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f1crecs · 5 months

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Fic Rec List - Lando/Oscar

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Only a few months ago, we featured a Lando/Oscar fic on our super rare pair list. Now, it's our most requested ship. Wow!

We hope you enjoy these ones! 🍊

nsfw: By a thread by @mctwinkdom | 5k | E

Oscar and Lando have a text conversation about thongs – things escalate from there. I loved the formatting of this fic, the texting really works well as a structure and the rest is filled up by the authors lovely characterization of both Lando and Oscar. I especially love Oscar being his normal aloof self, a little bit nervous about his new teammate (but so so in to it when the convo turns spicy) while Lando is just a strange little horny boy with a liking for ”thongs”.

Oscar raises an eyebrow. He thought his answer was pretty straightforward, didn’t think he’d have to spell it out for Lando. (me): I wasn’t talking about shoes in my tweet” Now that would teach him. Fucking British. Always thinking they have full powers over the English language. Okay, granted, maybe they invented it but still.

Sanctus by debrief | T | 5.5k

This is a renaissance au with lovers to enemies (and back), beginning with Oscar serving Lando's high-status family. What I like: This is some of the most incredible writing I've encountered. Not only is it a masterclass in non-linear narratives, but it's packed with striking imagery and fascinating power dynamics. There are phrases and sentences in this fic that I can quote off the top of my head. It's immersive and heart-wrenching and beautiful.

'Lando had been blithe, Oscar had been brave. They were seventeen and unforgivably naive. It was a time of spires, domes, cathedrals, rebirth celebrated at the heart of the greatest city-state this side of the world. A war of high art and marginalized decadence, long expanses of moon-kissed skin bathed in gratuitous bathos, love and lust flirting vows over gilt-framed canvases commissioned by wealthy nobles who have known neither.'

legerdemain by anonymous | Not Rated | 5.8k

Oscar gets roped into teaching Lando how to play chess, and quickly finds out that Lando's endgame is a lot more complicated than it seems. I loved this fic for a variety of reasons - firstly because of the way that the author's love for and understanding of chess shines through so clearly. And secondly, the characterisation of both Lando and Oscar is complex and witty and so fitting to who they both are. Lando is cheeky and a little weird and far sharper than he lets on, and Oscar is dry and matter-of-fact and unexpectedly into Lando. This is one of those fics that can get you sold on the Lando/Oscar pairing if you were initially uncertain about it - the slow build-up of tension and realisation is brilliantly captured, with chess and chess strategy being used to build UST between these two in a way that feels perfectly fitting to them.

'“Gotcha,” Lando says. “So like. D’you prefer blowjobs?” He moves the white rook to attack the hanging pawn and figures out the rest of the endgame puzzle pretty effortlessly.'

soft vanilla foreplay by anonymous | M | 7k

AU. Lando, a member of a Robin Hood style crime group, meets Oscar, who turns out to be a cat-hybrid vigilante superhero himself. Oscar joins Lando’s gang. Together they fight injustice (by doing crime). This fic is really well written and incredibly funny. It leans hard into the cat-Oscar joke - Oscar is very catlike in all the best ways and has some mannerisms that made me think the author definitely has one. Their meet-cute is hilarious and sets the tone for the entire fic.

' “No, I actually inherited the genes from my ancestors, who came from a planet of felids.” “Excuse me, did you mean a planet of furries?” “No, Jesus, Lando,” Oscar says emphatically, then he’s laughing, crinkling eyes and soft cheeks and bunny teeth. God, he’s so fucking cute. “No, I was found, um,” Oscar says, sobering from the laugh. He takes a deep breath. “In a handbag. Someone left me on the. Doorstep of a stranger’s house.” Lando looks up and gauges Oscar’s expression. He’s telling the truth. “I don’t know why I’m a cat,” Oscar says. Makes this shrugging expression without actually shrugging. “So…” Lando says. “How did you find out?” “Well. For one, I can speak to cats,” Oscar answers. Huh. This probably explains all the neighbourhood cats serenading Oscar from his balcony so much. “Okay,” Lando says, taking it all in stride. “And you fight crime by night?” “I work graveyard shifts at the supermarket,” Oscar says. “Yeah. Part-time. That’s three out of seven nights.” And Oscar is with Lando for two or three of the four remaining nights (they fuck every evening though) (and morning). Anyways, the maths doesn’t add up. Oscar sighs. “Well, I.” He pauses. “I climb up to fancy penthouses of people who run trust mills, and I take stuff. Then I redistribute.” Oh. Lando is mouthing the oh. “You’re a cat burglar,” Lando whispers it like it’s the funniest secret ever.'

nsfw: Needs Improvement by @strawberry-daiquiris | 7.1k | E

Zak tells Oscar his 'teammate communication' needs improvement. Mark sends him to a 'Psychic, Clairvoyant, Sorcerer' who ends up doing some voodoo that leads to Oscar and Lando being able to read each others' thoughts. Its got great characterisations and some humour mixed in with some angst and, of course, some smut. Plus one of the first Landoscar fics I read and it really drew me in.

'If he’s really that worried, Mark suggests, he could see a sports psychologist. Someone who can advise him how to work with Lando, really get to the core of what it means to be a good teammate. They could even do sessions together. “Like couples therapy.” Mark grins, clapping Oscar on the shoulder. “Only worse, because you won’t get any sex out of it.” The irony, really, is that Oscar and Lando don’t not get on. He’d actually thought they were doing pretty well. Lando laughs at his jokes, Oscar smiles through his stories. They don’t see eye to eye on music, or hobbies, or the taste of fish, but none of those things matter on track anyway. Even more ironic is that Oscar really wouldn’t mind having sex with Lando, if he’s honest.'

nsfw: Never have I ever by @mctwinkdom | E | 13k

Lando and Oscar play a game of Never Have I Ever, and it leads to some interesting revelations. Although its majority (very good) smut, this was a very heartwarming fic. The dialogue is fun and keeps you reading more. The characterisation of them feels realistic!

'But there was something between them, without shape or name, something that made them avert their gaze after staring at each other for one second too long, something that made them slightly jump if their hands were to brush. Something Lando had named in his mind: “I wanna fuck my teammate: the Remix”, in bold orange (papaya) letters with some glitter and fireworks.'

we are all in the butter but some of us are looking at the cars by xiaoluclair | T | 14.3k

Oscar's first season in F1 is about reaching the stars. It becomes about reaching Lando, too. The timing of this one feels very real to me, the way pieces slowly slot into place. The author places threads and waits until the end to pull on all of them, and it's lovely.

'Peer pressure, thinks Oscar, this is peer pressure. But Lando keeps it held out, eyes on Oscar and Oscar. Oscar takes the damn shoe. It’s probably one of the oddest experiences of his life. When he lowers it again, can feel the thin river of it cold on his chin, Lando’s still looking at him. Crows have walked in the skin beside his eyes.A minute later, Oscar watches him tip his head back, shoe against his mouth. Light shines through the gap and, just for a moment, it looks like he is swallowing the sun itself.'

nsfw: carried away by venerat | E | 22.1k

AU, non drivers. Lando impulsively asks Oscar to pretend to be his boyfriend to make an ex jealous. Oscar agrees, even though it's probably a bad idea when he likes Lando so much. Lando gradually comes to realise he is in love with Oscar. I am crazy for the fake dating trope. This has all the best parts of it - miscommunication, angst, gradual feelings realisation from the POV character and obvious pining from the other. Venerat is so good at this and the fic is a lovely journey. The characterisations are perfect, especially Oscar and his natural talent for understatement, which muddies the waters a bit.

'If there was anything Oscar would do, it was was focus very intently on the task assigned to him, until he got it exactly fucking right. That was what made him perfect for this particular task: the task of being Lando’s boyfriend. Fake boyfriend. “Okay,” Lando said, clearing his throat. “Stunning. Was thinking, maybe we could try it out at the cinema tomorrow.” He, Oscar, and the Lefrères were going to see the new Bond film. It was the perfect opportunity to be dickish and in love, as far as Lando was concerned. “Just didn’t want you to get all jumpy if I touched you,” he explained. “If that’s alright. Like. Yeah.” Oscar nodded. “Got it. Sounds good, mate. I’ll be, er, ready.” It was nice to be around such passion. Lando rolled his eyes. He was smiling inside, when he thought it. But Oscar did have some capacity to surprise him. Before Lando fucked off, Oscar stepped forward, closing the normal non-sexual gap between them, and wrapped Lando in a light hug. It was nothing—Oscar’s arms were barely even squeezing him—but Lando’s breath still caught in his chest like a stupid fucking idiot, freezing inside the hug. “Have a good one,” Oscar said when he drew back. He was pink, which made Lando feel better, given that his own ears were warming. Okay. They clearly needed practice. Desperately, in fact. “You too, babe,” Lando said, and winked. Then, before he could embarrass himself further, he spun on his heel and walked out.'

nsfw: climb up to your lips by @scenetocause | E | 28k (wip)

This fic is Lando/girl!Oscar (the always-a-different-sex trope). Lando has a massive crush on his teammate. He also has a submissive streak that starts to express itself around her. As their relationship develops, she picks up on this and starts finding ways to take care of him. They’re both a bit inexperienced at relationships and sex in general. I just love these two. They’re both slightly weird and awkward and don’t quite fit with anyone else but are turning out to be perfect for one another. It’s a learning curve for them both.

“Yeah, fuck.” Lando has to tilt his head back onto the sofa. He can feel it in his arse, where she touched him. He might feel it for the rest of his life. “Yeah, I. Fuck.” “Later.” she says, like a promise. It takes him a moment to work out she means them, later. Fucking. Which might be ambitious because he currently feels like he needs a refractory period of about a decade, after that one but he won’t spoil her dreams just yet. She's acidic, clever as ever in debrief and brutal in the way she deconstructs her own, botched Q3. Lando's probably staring at her a bit lovestruck but he's been doing that all season anyway so no one has to know it's over the phantom sensation of her inside him. Despite the lecture from Zak earlier Oscar tucks him under her arm on the drive from the hotel, playing with his hair. He's actually less worried about being killed by Andrea or whatever now but still doesn't get his phone out because he hasn't had time to clean up his insta follows and he doesn't want Oscar to think he's into anyone else. For someone who doesn't seem to think much of herself, she seems fairly assured he likes her. Which might, in retrospect, be something to do with the best part of a year he spent broadcasting that to her before he'd even realised it himself.'

already home by @nyoomfruits | T | 32.5k

Lando marries Oscar, his best friend and roommate, to keep his family from worrying about him so much. This is an absolute gem. It's sweet, funny, cozy, and the dynamic between the pairing and their friends is delightful.

“Yeah, well, you’re marrying me, so,” Lando says, sticking out his tongue, and Oscar laughs, that loud, bursting out of him laugh he does sometimes where he completely folds his body in half. Lando hides his self-satisfied smirk behind another bite of his pancake, and pretends like he isn’t committing the little laugh lines in the corner of Oscar’s eyes to his memory.'

thank you to @singsweetmelodies, @ocontraire, @maaxverstappen, @lydia-petze, @frickinsweet & @welightitup for compiling this list 🧡

#landoscar #driver:lando #driver:oscar #pairing:lando/oscar

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inbabylontheywept · 7 months

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"That is not what humans are for."

The ambassador asked me if I wanted a party favor. I was tempted, but human minds were notoriously resilient. What might bend their mind into an amusing shape for an hour or two could break mine altogether.

I declined. The ambassador shrugged in a way that made it very clear that he considered it my loss, before dropping several spoonfuls of the substance into a specialized port on his exosuit. By default, the visor was dark enough one could barely make out the dark outline of the creature's bulbous skull, but as smoke started to trickle up into the dome, even that was lost. Where I should’ve seen an alien face, there was my own dim reflection, twisted by the curvature of the glass and the slow roil of smog.

“It is rare to receive guests,” it said in my voice. As if stealing my face wasn’t enough. It was an unsettling but common convention for humans to borrow the voice of whoever they were talking to. The generous view of this was that they enjoyed being mirrors. Personally, I’d always viewed them as a species afraid of being observed. It is hard, to see the mirror underneath a reflection.

“Do you want more?” I asked.

I couldn’t see its face, but I could tell it was exhaling by the way vortices formed in the smoke.

“Yes,” it replied. “But I know my limits.”

It then carefully pushed the remaining pouch of powder towards the center of the table. The question of whether it had been talking about guests, or its recreation, suddenly grew fuzzy.

I decided to assume the best and plowed forward.

“Our colony by outpost Battan. It’s-”

“Struggling,” it finished. There was a glint of white inside the smoke, a hint of exposed wet bone. Weeks of study informed me this was intended to set me at ease.

“Yes.”

“Bad neighbors?”

The question was posed innocently enough, but it gave away the entire story. Twenty years of guerilla strikes, of blood and coin andlost life summed up in two words. A pathetically small conflict, and yet, large enough that the humans knew of it.

I did not answer. I stood still and watched my own face stare back. Humans loved games. I did not want to play.

It matched me again. Always the mirror. Coy when I was coy. Serious when I was serious.

“Any requests for how they are handled?”

“No unnecessary bloodshed.”

It inhaled deep enough to clear the smoke from the dome. My reflection was interrupted, replaced with the form of the thing in the suit. The lines of the face were murky enough but what shone brightest through the glass were its eyes - perfect paper white spheres, slick and shining. It seemed wrong for something to look so earnest and so hungry.

“That is not what humans are for.”

I could not decide if it was agreeing to or denying my request. I looked into its eyes as long as I could, as long as I could still make them out through the haze drifting up through the neck slot. Only when they were well and truly gone did I take my glove off, and reach across the table. It gripped my hand, clenched around it hard, and then let it go suddenly. I’d been told this meant the deal was sealed.

I should have just left. But I was always too curious, so I asked my final question.

“Why us? Why not them?”

“Because you came to me first,” it replied, as if the answer was obvious. “And I was very bored.”

It showed me the door very soon after that. I had the presence of mind to avoid running until I made it out of the building.

#humans are space fae #humanity fuck yeah #hfy #scifi #science fiction #writing

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savanaclaw1996 · 7 months

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The King of my Heart-Leona Kingscholar x Fem! Reader (TwstOber 2022)

Day 6: Crown. From the TwstOber2022 prompt list from @raven-at-the-writing-desk. Enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of Chapter 2 spoilers!

Word Count: 1,007 words.

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Leona sometimes wondered why he was even born into royalty. If one is born a royal, that meant that they could be treated with the utmost respect, right? Well, Farena, his older brother, got that respect, so why not he? He was also born a royal. It just wasn’t fair. But, then again, life isn’t always fair.

"Life is determined for you from the moment that you're born, it doesn't matter how much you try to change it." Those were the words he told himself, and he believed them. If no one is going to respect or admire you, no matter how hard you work to make yourself appealing, why even bother trying to prove yourself?

Leona was lying on that certain one patch of grass under the tree in the Botanical Garden that's reserved just for him. It has been a week since his Overblot episode, and he was still slightly weak from it. He was still recovering from his Overblot episode and the rest of the dorms beating him up.

The Magift Tournament really took a lot out of him. But it still didn’t feel like it was enough. He did tell (Y/N) when they were in the infirmary that he would give it his all at the next Magift Tournament, but the vines grown from the seeds of doubt planted in his heart started to ensnare themselves around it.

"Would I really be able to give it my all next time?" he asked himself as he slowly opened his eyes as he looked at the sunlight shining through the Botanical Garden’s domed roof. "If Malleus wins the Tournament again, then what worth am I?"

He let out a heavy sigh as he turned to his side and shut his eyes, driving those heavy thoughts out from his mind and getting ready to snooze, when...

"Unca Leona!” a child’s voice yelled loudly, making Leona jolt in his spot. That screeching voice...! "Oh, no..." he groaned as he facepalmed in dismay. "Not him...!" Sure enough, a little lion child appeared from the bushes and ran up to him. He leapt and landed on Leona’s stomach, making him wheeze.

"There you are, Unca Leona!" Cheka said with a bright, happy smile on his sweet, cherubic face. Leona recovered from the pain and glowered at his screech-box of a nephew.

"How did you know I was here, furball?" he asked grouchily. "Did Ruggie tell you I was here?" Cheka shook his head. "Nope. Auntie (Y/N) said so. She took me here to find you." he said, pointing at the person appearing from behind the bushes.

"Cheka was wondering where you were, so I took him to find you. Ruggie-san told me you'd be here." you said, smiling. Leona scoffed as he rolled his eyes. Of course Ruggie would tell you and Cheka where he would be.

"I brought a little gift for you. Grim and I made it." you said as you knelt down beside Leona. "I helped her!" Cheka added proudly. "Oh? What is it?" Leona asked, raising an eyebrow.

You placed your backpack on the grass and took something out from it. It was a white cardboard box. You then placed the box on the grass, opened it. You reached your hands into the box and pulled out a little circlet. It was made of copper wire with gems looped inside and vines with purple flowers adorned the wire, providing the finishing touch.

"What’s that?" Leona asked, looking at the circlet in your hand. "Stay still for me, please." you replied. Leona obliged as he sat still. His ears twitched as you gingerly placed the object on his head. A few purple petals fell to the ground.

"There you go. Don’t you look regal?" you said with a playful smile as you looked at Leona's new look. Cheka clapped his hands in delight. "Unca Leona looks so handsome!" he exclaimed. Leona raised his hand and gently touched the flowers on his circlet. "Okay, what's the deal?" he asked in annoyance. "I'm not in the mood to play your silly little game, herbivore."

"Leona, I just gave you a crown." you replied. Leona froze as he turned to look at you. "A crown?" he asked. You nodded. "Yep. I got the copper wire from Sam's Mystery Shop, the gems I got from the Dwarf's mine, and the purple flowers I plucked from the woods near campus." you replied.

"Cheka came and helped me tie the vines on the wire." you said. "Those purple flowers are purple heliotropes. They represent eternal love and loyalty. Leona-senpai, that crown is a symbol of my undying loyalty to you. Even if you can’t be a real king, you’ll forever be the king of my heart."

"Huh... Is that so?" Leona hummed as he looked at you, his annoyed expression slowly becoming that of fondness. Despite everything that had happened, him Overblotting and nearly turning everything and everyone into sand, you leapt in without a single trace of fear and pulled him out from the inky depths of despair, thus saving his life.

Even when he wanted to nap, (Y/N) would tell him to attend his classes. She had complete faith that he could achieve something, that he could be more than a second-born prince.

He then looked at his nephew. Cheka will one day inherit the throne of the Sunset Savanna; thus, he will have the crown. While your creation may not be a real crown of royalty, your heartfelt declaration and gift were enough to make the vines of doubt wrapped around his heart to wither away.

He smiled. "Thanks, herbivore. I appreciate it." he said as he looked at you fondly. You smiled sweetly. "You're welcome." you reply. He then turned to Cheka. "Thanks, furball." he said, tousling his hair. Cheka smiled.

He then placed a tender kiss on his uncle's cheek, making Leona blush. "You're welcome, Unca. I love you lots." Cheka replied. Leona just scoffed. "Yeah, yeah." he said dismissively. But still, he truly adores his nephew.

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #disney twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twst #twst leona #twstober 2022 #twstober

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varpusvaras · 7 days

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They are both breathing hard when they finally get back to the Senate.

Fox leads her through a smaller door, one that Leia, even with all her time spent in the Senate Dome has never even seen before, and pushes her into an elevator that currently has only three maintenance droids in it. They all beep at them, but quiet down when Fox shushes them. He takes the coat from Leia, while Leia starts to comb her hair open. They need to work fast, so Leia unceremoniously puts a part of her hair in her mouth, while she starts braiding another part of it.

Fox watches for a moment, before he reaches for her head.

"Same part from this side too?" He asks. Leia raises her brows at him through their reflections on the elevator's shining wall, but nods. Fox pulls his gloves off, and takes a part of her hair into his fingers, and starts to braid with surprising speed and skill, managing to match the tightness of the braid to hers closely enough when in the moving elevator. He holds the braid in place until Leia gets to tie it up, and pulls both the braids behind her head as she starts to braid the last braid on the front.

"You seem to know what you're doing", she comments, as her mouth is now free from hair.

"I braid Thorn's hair a lot", Fox answers. "And I've seen this same hairdo on your mother. The last one goes through the middle, right?"

Leia swallows, but gathers herself quickly.

"Yes", she answers, and throws the last braid over her head as well. He pulls it through and tightens it up. He's much gentler than Leia's or Mama's ladies-in-waiting, who would pull the braid so tight that Leia could feel the pull in her teeth. "Mother used to wear this when she was younger."

It was one of the braids that were easy to do, even for someone who wasn't too experienced in tying up the Royal ladie's hair, so it was many times chosen when there was, for some reason, not too much time for doing the hair to any of the more complicated upstyles. Mother had liked it when Leia had been small, especially on the days she had had more time to spend time with just Leia and father. Leia had learned to do it pretty young as well, so she could match up with mother on their days out.

Something turns and tightens inside her chest for the thought that Fox had spent enough time just looking at her mother, and paying attention to every little detail, that he knows how to do the braid without instructions. It's bittersweet, because it also makes her feel warm amidst all the turmoil. He has paid enough attention to her mother to know how to braid hair.

Fox backs away a bit, and hums.

"Looks neat enough", he says, and starts to pull his gloves back on. "Deep breaths. We're there in just a moment."

Leia has just enough time to touch her hair and turn around, when the elevator stops and beeps, and the doors open. Fox holds the coat for one of the droids.

"Put this into trash", he tells it. The droid beeps, opens its compartment and stuffs the coat in, and then wheels out after the two other droids. Fox steps out first and glances around, and then waves for Leia to follow.

"I'm going to take the maintenance door, and go up to the next floor", he tells her as they walk down the corridor. "Go straight from here, and take the elevator on the right side of the hall. I'll be there."

Leia nods. She brushes her fingers against his, and he curls his fingers around them briefly before they part ways.

Leia holds her head high and walks without looking around, to the end of the corridor and through the next door, and she crosses the hall on the other side without anyone stopping to even look at her. She steps into the elevator, and puts herself into the corner in the back, behind a few other Senators and aides. She recognises a couple of them. It's strange, every time, to see people she has known all her life, but who now have no idea who she is.

The doors start to beep, but before they can close, Padmé Amidala steps in, and behind her is Anakin Skywalker.

Leia's heart slams to a stop, before she can control herself.

Deep breaths, Fox had just said to her. Deep breaths.

She breathes, and stares at the spot on the wall, trying to keep any unsavory thoughts out of her head. She had done it before, while being in the same room with him, while he was watching her cry in pain he was inflicting upon her.

He is just standing there now, not looking at her. She is safe. She is safe.

The elevator starts to move. Leia breathes in, and thinks about anything else than her birth parents standing right there in front of her.

#fox my man you are a goner you know?#also leia is trying so hard not to just stab anakin in the kidneys lmao #sw #tcw #Star Writing #snippets #Leia Time Travel AU #Leia Organa #Commander Fox #my writing #bail/breha/fox

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theplanetprince · 1 year

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I think considering their profession, the fentons aren't numb to death but they do have a lot of... Quirks about it.

Like they're probably a family well versed in funerary affairs of all sorts of cultures.

Like it would probably take sam by surprise that Danny knows the Jewish death prayer off of the top of the dome (may their memory be a blessing) . Same thing with the Catholic prayer with Tucker (may perpetual light shine upon them)

Hunting Ghosts and studying them is just one facet of the discipline.

It comes off a bit unusual to those on the outside of the profession.

Like Jazz has been planning her will and getting affairs in order since she was a child. And Danny meanwhile loves to talk about his wake like it's his wedding.

"What? Don't you guys think about the kind of suit you want to be buried in?"

"No... Danny... No one does that."

"oh-- okay."

None of these topics are uncomfortable for the Fentons, they don't shy away from the hard stuff.

#tales from the voorhees #danny phantom #dp #txt

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idolatrybarbie · 5 months

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pairing: santa!francisco "frankie" morales x fem!reader

word count & rating: 886 words | explicit jesus christ

summary: you're joking, right?

tags: santa kink???, cockwarming, cum, like so much cum, unprotected vaginal sex, unethical use of a mall Santa Village, semi-public sex, dirty talk and pet names, mentions of free use.

notes: hiatus more like LIEatus. what am i supposed to say here. this is unedited, straight off the dome. blame the gin twins @atinylittlepain @wannab-urs. sorry?

You can’t tell how long you’ve been sat here. The sprawling hall is dim with light, security fluorescents shining from the glossy, guarded windows of each storefront. Without all this festive set dressing, the mall at night would be purely creepy. With Santa’s Village set up amid all the sleek chaos, though, it’s cheerfully welcome. And here you are, taking full advantage of the generous invite.

Sat on Santa’s lap, you shuffle your hips the slightest bit, trying to relieve the tingles that run up and down your calf. Frankie—err, Saint Nick slaps your ass with a solid gloved hand.

“Sit still,” he tells you.

“Sorry, Mr. Claus.”

You stutter on a sigh as you feel him twitch inside you. The last thing you expected was to be spending Christmas Eve speared on Santa’s cock, keeping him warm as a nasty blizzard blows wildly outside.

“Have you been a good girl for me this year?” he asks, voice gruff.

“Yes, I promise,” you keen.

Facing away from him, you can feel the tickle of his magically fluffy white beard against the nape of your neck. The only thing keeping you sane is the thought of that same plush softly running along the skin of your inner thighs. Imaging Santa’s tongue in your cunt has you clenching around him, earning you a groan.

“You seem pretty naughty to me,” Santa says.

“Please, Mr. Claus. Santa, I need it.”

Without warning, he punches his hips up. The tip of his jolly cock reaches the very ends of your cunt in a pinch of painful pleasure.

“You’ll take what I give you, when I give it to you,” he says. “Keeping me nice and warm right here, honey. Be a good girl for me and you’ll get a nice present this year. Promise.”

“Santa, please. I’ll be such a good girl next year, I promise.”

“Yeah? How am I gonna hold you to it, little girl?” Santa asks. “Maybe I’ll keep you with the rest of my elves. They all work real hard, you know. Maybe I could put you to work.” He starts to move his hips, thrusts lazy into your wet heat as he continues to ramble. “Yeah, think I’ll do just that. While the rest of ‘em make toys for all the good girls and boys, you can stay right here with me. You can be my toy, honey.”

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“A bad word? That wasn’t very nice.”

Santa picks up speed, cock practically sloshing through your sopping cunt like driven-through snow.

“I think you’ll like it up North. Christ knows you’ll be getting enough pole,” Santa continues. He grips the skin of your neck in his hand with his thick fingers, holding you up like a disobedient kitten. “That’ll teach you how to be a good little girl. Hard work, all day every day. Usually Mrs. Claus does the baking, but I’ve got a special icing for this little cookie.”

The thought of being fucked, purely used at any time of day for 365 days of the year has the soft embers in your belly growing to scorching flames. He lets go of your neck, bringing that hand to the column of your throat while his other hand skates down the naked plains of your chest. His fabric-covered hand slides between your breasts and past your diaphragm, pressing down at the soft spot between your stomach and pelvis.

Each upwards stroke has you almost gagging, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you surrender any intelligent thought or movement. You can feel yourself dripping down around him, pooling between your thighs to the dark, sticky velvet of his disheveled pants.

“Look at you, little girl. My sweet doll. All plug n’ play, aren’t you? You like being my hard little worker?” Santa asks, lips brushing against your ear. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Please, please, please,” you chant in time with each of his thrusts.

“It’s pretty chilly in here. Can’t wait to watch it drip out of you. Think it’d make an icicle for me?”

“Ah, oh god,” you cry.

“I’ll let it drip over you, right back into that pretty pussy. How’s that sound?”

You’re past the point of talking. Santa uses your body for his pleasure, legs spread out in front of you like the wings of a turtledove. The constant smack smack smack of wet thighs and pussy almost creates a caroling tune; something for your mind to grasp onto as he fucks you stupid.

“I’ll have to make sure my girl doesn’t get too greedy. Can’t have you hogging all the toys next Christmas. Can’t have you too naughty,” Santa says. Then, “Ho—oh, it’s coming, honey. You ready for your Christmas gift from Santa?”

You bob your head in a nod, biting your lip as he gets his last few thrusts in. Your cunt sucks him in hungrily, squeezing with your own orgasm as you simultaneously milk Santa of his wintry blast. Somewhere in your haze of pleasure, you hear the faint jingle of Christmas bells. Finally, you’re sat still in his lap again. His snowy spend leaks out of you slowly, soiling the crotch of his pants further.

“D’you like what you got this year, little girl?” Santa asks.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. “Can’t wait for next year.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #fic: jingle balls

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ultrakdramamama · 3 months

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240227 smtown 샤이니, 6년 만의 도쿄돔 콘서트 양일 전석 매진 기록하며 성황리에 마쳤다!

대표 히트곡 ‘Sherlock•셜록 (Clue + Note)’부터 ‘HARD’, ‘LUCIFER’, ‘View’ 등 약 3시간 동안 총 28곡의 세트리스트를 선보여…

“이렇게 다시 이곳에 설 수 있어서 기쁘다. 늘 저희 곁에 있어 주셔서 감사하다. 샤이니는 지금부터 시작이다” 진심 어린 소감 전해!

3월 2일 싱가포르, 16일 홍콩에서 아시아 투어 ‘SHINee WORLD VI [Perfect Illumination] in ASIA’로 열기 이어간다!

SHINee made a dazzling return to the TOKYO DOME stage, marking their first performances at the iconic venue in six years. Fans were overjoyed as the group delivered a thrilling 3-hour setlist packed with 28 songs, including mega-hits like 'Sherlock (Clue + Note)', 'HARD', 'LUCIFER', and 'View'.

The members expressed their heartfelt gratitude: "We're so happy to be back here with you. Thank you for your unwavering support. This is just the beginning for SHINee!"

The excitement continues as SHINee takes their 'SHINee World VI [Perfect Illumination]' tour to Asia! Catch them in Singapore on March 2nd and Hong Kong on the 16th.

#SHINee#샤이니@shinee #SHINee_WORLD_VI #SHINee_WORLD_VI_JAPAN_FINAL

#SHINee #Key #Kibum #Kim Kibum #Keybangs' Smooshy #Minho #Choi Minho #Taemin #Lee Taemin #SuperM #SHINee World VI Japan #smtown #instagram #240227

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simplydannie · 28 days

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Part 1 || Parts 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 6

After running from his sisters outrage, Veneer found himself in alley where he met a very familiar little friend.

The meeting is cut short as a new face comes in to save Branch. Finally being able to leave, something stops Branch… he somehow can’t leave Veneer behind to the dangers of Under Rageous.

Branch squinted his eyes, taking in the sight in front of him. Same pale skin, deep blue eyes, the darn swooped up hair, it was definitely Veneer. A smile spread wide on the boy's face.

“You’re Floyds brother!” He called. “H-how is he? I wrote to him and he never wrote back. Is he okay? Is he better? How did you get here? Is he here too? Is the rest of Brozone here? Is….." Branch ran up to Veneer covering his mouth with his tiny hands. This kid was a yapper.

“Dude. Calm down. You’re giving me anxiety.” Branch scowled.

“Sorry! I’m a little nervous.” Veneer kneeled on all fours to get at level with the little Troll. That’s when Branch noticed the faint bruises all along Veneers face, a scar healing above his lip…. This wasn’t the same flawless face he had laid eyes on a year ago at the Rage Dome. Branch glanced behind him, noticing the unconscious Rageons laying on the ground.

“Did you do that?” Branch asked in surprise. Veneer cocked his head unsure of what he was talking about at first. He then turned around.

“Oh! Y-yeah. Good thing there was a crowbar nearby.” He chuckled. He turned back to Branch. “I know you’re Floyd’s brother, but I don’t know your name.”

The little Troll was hesitant. This was the same face that tortured his brother a year ago, nearly killed him…. But then he did admit to his wrong doings, he did just save him, and he hasn’t tried kidnapping him…yet. He had to proceed with caution.

“Branch.” He said coldly, crossing his arms. “And where the heck am I? You’re here, but this doesn’t look like Mount Rageous.”

“It’s because it isn’t. Umm.” Veneer extended his hand on the ground, waiting and hoping the small Troll would take the friendly gesture. Branch hesitated, Be ready for anything, he thought to himself. Eventually, Branch mounted Veneers hand. Gently, like carrying something delicate, Veneer walked over out of the alley. Without being chased, with everything calm, Branch was able to take in the scenes for the first time.

The buildings where stacked on top of each other, bunched up crowded reaching the sky. Streets and walkways unkept, broken, cracked. Nothing but neon artificial light lit up the city as far as he could see. It was high tech for being somewhat run down, Branch would give it that. He stared straight up. Far above he noticed clouds, the cloud line, bright lights barely shining through…

“Is that, Mount Rageous? Then what’s this place?”

“It adopted the name ‘Under Rageous’. It’s…. It’s a lot different down here than it is up there.” Veneer explained.

“Obviously. Mount Rageous was too colorful, this place, well, hardly anything.”

“We make do.”

Branch glanced at the Rageoun confused. “What do you mean?”

“We….Me and Velvet…. This is where we’re from…. I found Floyd down her before….” He voice and eyes trailed off as he avoided eye contact with Branch. “….It can be hard down here…”

“How hard?” Branch asked….

….What they didn’t notice, hiding in the cracks in the buildings above them, was a gray little Troll. He’d been eyeing them, watching them the whole time. He peeked his head out ever so slightly; he wore a dark blue beanie that covered his Troll dark blue hair except for a piece that covered his right eye, he wore sa denim-like material that was fashioned into a sleeveless vest, the same material he used for his pants. He was young, a Troll born and raised in Under Rageous… and throughout all his 17 years of life, he never saw a Rageon and Troll interact in such a casual manner. The young Troll kept a watchful eye, waiting for the opportune moment.

“Just… hard.” Veneer didn’t explain any further, and Branch didn’t push it. “How…. How did you end up here?”

“I was….taken….Pop Troll Village was attacked. Some of us kidnapped. I was able to escape with a few others… everyone else… I don’t know.” Branches voice and gaze grew distant, remembering the events that occurred that day.

“Is…Is…Floyd okay?” Veneer asked with a desperation in his voice. Branch arched an eyebrow.

“You care?”

Veneer turns his gaze away, looking at something at the ground. A sense of guilt hit Branch, maybe he did….

“I don’t know…I don't know what happened. That’s why I have to get out and go back.” Branch finally responded. Veneer turned back to look at Branch. He noticed and knew that look all to well…it’s a look he would constantly give his sister….worry.

“I can…help you…” Veneer finally replied after sharing a silent moment. The Trolls small ears perked up.

“R-really?”

“Y-yeah. But ummm…. Could we go with you?”

Great. Branch was not in the mood to make promises. Did he want to take the kids with him? No. He didn’t trust him, he didn’t trust his sister. What if this was some trick Veneer was plotting? A plot to get closer to the Trolls, find their destination, take them all…. But what if Branch said no? Would Veneer still want to help him?

“I….”

SWOOSH. THUMP. THUD.

Something came swinging in, hitting Veneer full force on the chest, knocking him off his feet. Branch went tumbling out of his hand and onto the floor with a small thud. He rubbed his head as he stood up.

“Ven-..” Another little Troll came up to Branch, covering his mouth.

“Shh! Let’s go!” The dark blue haired Troll with a dark blue beanie pulled Branch along after, heading back into the alley.

“Wait. What? Who are you?”

“Hurry up!” The young Troll ran until they made their way into a crack in the building. The Troll looked at Branch and heldl a finger to his lips.

“Branch? Branch?” He could hear Veneer call out as he rubbed his chest. Peeking through the crack, Branch could see Veneer peeking and overturning debris to find him.

“Who are you?” He asked looking at the young Troll.

“….Tye.…My name is Tye.” Tye peeked through the cracks as the young Rageon outside kept digging through the debris.

“Branch!” Veneer called out again.

“I don’t think he’s all that bad-..”

“Shhh!”

The two Rageons that Veneer had knocked out earlier regained consciousness. They wabbled their way to Veneer, holding their heads, letting out small moans of pain.

“You…. You stupid little freak!” One exclaimed, a fury growing in his eyes. Veneer quickly got up from all fours, he turned and ran….

THUD!

He slammed into a body that was standing right behind him. Veneer fell back again, he stared up the tall Rageon: pale skin like them all, orange stringy hair style into a Mohawk. A cybernetic eye on his left, matching his clawed prosthetic arm.

“Wel, well, well. I should be honored. The one and only Veneer everyone!” He gestured to the young Rageon still on the ground.

The Trolls watched silently from the cracks of the building.

“Okay. They’re distracted, let’s go.” Tye attempted to pull Branch along.

“Wait.”

“For what? Let’s go!”

“Wait!” Branch exclaimed, peering through the cracks.

“H-how do you know m-my name?” Veneer stuttered.

“Isn’t that what you guys wanted? ‘Baby, remember my name’” He sang mockingly. “Oh you were famous down here as much as you were up there. Only for the wrong reasons.” The Rageon gazed and fiddled with his prosthetic arm as he continued to speak. “You and your sister, Under Rageons living the luxurious life. And you didn’t bend a finger to help out the rest of us down here.”

At his last words the orange haired Rageon grabbed Veneer's neck with his prosthetic, robotic arm, he began to squeeze tightly leaving Veneer choking and gasping for air. The rest of the Rageons smiled at the sight of Veneers suffering.

“You’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” Tye whispered again.

Branch stared at the sight before him. Veneer desperately claws at the at the other Rageon, pleading to be let go, fear in his eyes…

“….I can’t…” Branch replied. Tye spun around in genuine surprise.

“What.” He demanded.

“I have to help him. Please help me help him.” Branch said.

“He’s a Rageon! They’re all disgusting filths!”

“I think… I think he’s different. Trust me. I know him, kind of.” Branch stated.

“Yeah! So does everyone down here. We know who he is and what he did. I am NOT helping you help him.” Tye crossed his arms and turned around.

“Please! Troll to Troll.” Branch heard painful whimpers and grunts. He peeked to see Veneer struggling in and out of consciousness.

“Many would pay a heavy price if I took you in right now. Public execution would be nice. But the satisfaction of killing you myself is rewarding enough.” The Rageon squeezed his hand tighter. “Not to mention you allowed a Troll to escape my guys.” Tighter he squeezed.

Tears began forming in Veneer's eyes, his face going from red to blue….he felt his heart fighting to continue pumping.

“Please!” Branch said again, turning around to Tye with a desperation in his eyes as Veneer inched closer to death. Tye let out an annoyed sigh, balling his tiny fists. Reaching into the pockets of his vest he pulled out two seeds, handing one to Branch.

“Ummmm..” Branch began to say.

“Do you want to help him or not?” Tye asked, earning a nod from Branch. “Then listen to what I say…”

“Someone should record this.” One Rageon laughed as their boss squeezed tighter and tighter around Veneer's neck. His thoughts went straight towards Velvet… who would watch out for her? Who would help her with the condition she was in? He was all she had, Veneer couldn’t just leave her alone.

CLANK!

The sound of metal hitting the ground echoed through the alley behind them. The orange haired Rageon slightly let go of his grasp around Veneer's neck.

“What the hell was that?” He murmured…. Suddenly in the blink of an eye, two tiny Trolls came swinging in.

“Veneer hold your breath!” Branch cried out. As he and Tye neared the other Rageons, they squeezed the seeds they held in their hand, releasing a yellow pollen into the air. Taking one breath, the Rageons began falling to the ground one by one. Veneer felt the hand around his neck go limp as the orange haired Rageon lost consciousness and fell to the ground with a big THUMP.

“Okay…. You can breathe now.” Branch said as the pollen quickly disappeared.

Veneer gasped for air, coughing and choking as he held his neck. Red marks began to bruise around his neck where the Rageon squeezed.

“Are they..” Veneer said softly as he tried to regain his strength.

“No. Insomnia Lily Seeds. Knocks you out in one shot. Trolls are immune, but not Rageons.” Tye responded. Veneer glanced at the small little Trolls.

“T-thank you.” He said.

“Don’t thank me. I’d personally have had them kill you. He was persistent though.” Tye nodded at Branch who was caught off guard.

“I- l…. W-well…Let’s just call it even!” Branch turned around and crossed his arms, avoiding Veneer's thankful gaze.

“Whatever. Let’s go now.” Tye nudged Branch. As he began to run away, footsteps and voices were heard rounding the corner….

“Boss said he’d be back in a few. Where the heck is he?”… More Rageons, and not the nice ones.

“Great. We- ah!!!” Tye yelled as he felt himself being scooped up. Veneer also grabbed Branch and made a run for it, holding both Trolls close to his chest.

“Let go!” Tye began beating his little fists against Veneer's chest.

“Where are we going?” Branch called out.

“Somewhere safe….I hope.” The Rageon replied

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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It Had To Be You: Chapter 3 - Around London Town (Sun Is In The Sky)

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Set 5 years after Chapter 2, serious relationships are ending. You reunite with Benedict and bond over heartbreak.

Artwork credit: @colettebronte

Warnings: discussion of sex/sexual acts, swearing.

Word count: 3.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, we are in various spots around London, hence the title. We also get to meet the Kate and Anthony of this AU. Enjoy! <3

Two years ago (5 years later)

“I saw the email,” she sighs, poking her salad. “He just spent 2000 quid on a new king-sized bed.”

“What do you mean you saw the email?” you frown, taking a bite of your fish as you stare across to St Paul’s dome, looking so beautiful lit up at dusk this late spring evening. Oxo Tower is a regular haunt for you, as it’s right around the corner from Kate’s work.

“I mean… he was working on his laptop in bed next to me and got called away, and a delivery notification from John Lewis popped up, and well, I saw it. He's bought a new bed for them,” her jaw ticks as she swallows hard. “He’s never going to leave her, is he?”

“No, Kate, he's never going to leave her,” you echo for what feels like the millionth time.

Your sympathy has limits; this woman, your very best friend, is so smart and so blindingly beautiful; you really don't understand why she has spent the last few years allowing herself to be dicked around by this what sounds like colossal asshat of a married man. She claims he's fantastic in bed and treats her like a queen, but as you've never even met him in the three years she's been seeing him, you can't form an opinion beyond the rose-tinted snippets she shares.

“I know you're right, I know,” she shakes her head a little and reaches for her G&T, downing it with remarkable alacrity. “How's Doctor Tom?” she wiggles her eyebrows comedically, obviously wanting a change of direction.

“Fine,” you offer warily, “at least, I hear he's fine.” You take a deep breath “… we broke up,” you explain as her brow knits.

“What? When? Why didn't you tell me?” she cries.

“I am telling you now. Last week. It just wasn't something I wanted to discuss on WhatsApp y'know,” you shrug, reaching for your wine and taking a fortifying large gulp. You knew you would have to tell your best friend sometime, apparently that ‘sometime’ is today.

“What happened?”

“We’ve been growing apart for a while, to be honest,” you confess, feeling like a burden is lifted just from voicing it. “It was all very grown up. We had a heart-to-heart; I said what I wanted, he said what he wanted, and we agreed it was very different, so he left.”

“My god, you make it sound so simple! And almost businesslike, mechanical. Fucking hell, are you not broken up about it at all?” she raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, this time in surprise.

“I've had a few days, and you know, I'm alright about it. I'm over it, to be honest. It's better we did this now than after we had gone through with the marriage,” you point out, starting at your now bare ring finger with a short pang of loss. It really was a beautiful ring.

“Well, good point, divorces are expensive and a bloody nightmare, but still…. Five years y/n. That's a long time to be with someone, and you are so matter-of-fact about it!”

“Not all of us are drama queens, Kate,” you jest gently and chuckle as she pulls a face.

“So you want me to set you up? There's that guy at my work, remember?” she singsongs, her brown eyes shining with mischief. “You guys would be perfect; I just know it!”

“Urghh, who?” you will admit to some intrigue.

“Freidrich Hohenzollern, you don't mind the blonds,” she winks.

“Kate! German Freddy?! You set me up with him six years ago!” you roll your eyes. “He threw up your deathly strong margaritas all over my pretty summer shoes,” you bemoan, recalling how it capped off a truly awful barbecue in her back garden. As it turns out, it was only a few weeks before you met Dr Tom. “Besides, I'm not ready to meet anyone yet; it's only been a few bloody days.”

“I thought you said you were over it?” she teases.

“I am, but I’m in mourning about being single again. I don't need anything right now, except maybe a rebound fuck, and I don't want that to be anyone remotely close to our friendship pool, you know? Much better to get with some rando I never have to cross paths with again.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugs but then waves her fork at you. “Just don't leave it too long before you get serious again.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” you laugh.

“I mean, if you stay on the shelf too long, some other bitch is going to snap up your man, and you’ll have to get cats and live alone, a bitter spinster until you die one of those mystery early deaths from unused vagina in about ten years. You’ll even make the news; cos, y’know, the cats, they’ll eat your face after you die. All alone.”

“Thanks, Kate.” you deadpan at that fantastically supportive vision of your future. “Also, so glad to know you are visiting me in my ancient forties, like the wonderful friend you are,” you roll your eyes.

“Bitch please, imma be busy being impregnated for the fifth time by my beautiful husband, James Norton,” she breezes with a huge grin.

“You’ll have to leave the fucking married idiot who doesn't deserve you first,” you point out, perhaps a little uncharitably.

“Touche,” she fires over her water glass. “He’s never going to leave her, is he?” she adds wistfully.

You reach over the table and touch her hand gently. “No darling, he is never going to leave his wife.”

“I know, I know, FUCK, I know…” she sighs dramatically, “Well… this calls for MORE DRINKS!” she states decidedly, banging her beautifully manicured fist on the table.

That, at least, you can fully support.

—

“What happened?” Anthony Bridgerton asks, taking a sip of his beer, his eye on his beloved team on the pitch below as they take a slight hammering at home in Twickenham.

“It's over. I'm moving home,” Benedict sighs, scratching his beard and glancing around the grandstand. “You've still got that spare room, right? Just until I get everything sorted, my stuff shipped back,” he adds, not wanting to be a burden at this age.

“Yeah, it's yours, as long as you need it,” Anthony nods, the older brother instinct kicking in without thought. “Are you sure this isn't something you can work out? Moving back to London seems rash.”

“Not a chance,” Benedict responds morosely, staring at his beer as a fly lands in it and starts swimming—seems like an apt metaphor for the shitshow being thirty-five has become for him. “I offered everything,” he shrugs miserably, “to go for counselling, sleep in the spare room; she's not interested. I knew something was up when some of her shit started disappearing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d come home, and her wardrobe looked half empty, you know, more than just laundry piling up, whole sections missing. Then her art and supplies started to dwindle, and she wasn't replacing them, but she was coming home still covered in paint. I figured maybe she had rented a separate studio space. So I confronted her; asked her what was happening: ‘Que se passe-t-il ici, tessa?’ you know. And she was all ‘de rein’ and ‘c’est tous dans ta tête’ it’s all in my head,” he translates, “and the whole time, I knew I wasn't being paranoid. So one day, I followed her...”

“You did what?”

“Yes, I know, I’m not proud of it,” he admits, “but I went to the coffee shop across the road and followed her. She had a big suitcase, lugging more of her stuff, I guess. So she went straight to a flat in the tenth arrondissement. Her ‘friend’ Clarissa. Yeah, they are definitely not just friends.”

“How do you know?” Anthony checks, sucking in air between his teeth as a Harlequins player hits the grass hard after a vicious tackle

“I watched them fuck on the balcony,” Benedict monotones, “sat in a little cafe opposite and watched my wife screaming her fucking head off as her ‘friend’ went down on her.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly. She hasn't let me do that in months; claims she’s lost the enjoyment of it. That isn't fucking true, obviously.” He fishes out the fly and downs the rest of his watery beer, placing the plastic cup on the ground and letting his head fall into his hands. “I mean, we haven't had sex in a year, but I thought it's just a rough patch, you know? We could get through it. Until a couple of months ago, she was at least letting me eat her out, and on occasion, when she got drunk, come to think of it, she might even give me a handjob once in a while. So I was dealing with it, thinking it's a blip, we can get through it. But… uggghhhh…. I knew it, you know? This whole time I knew she would kick the shit out of me one day. I just didn't think it would be this far into marriage. Five fucking years Anthony….”

He looks so utterly unmoored that Anthony turns to him and places a comforting arm around his brother. “Listen, infidelity isn't the reason marriages break up; it's just a symptom that something else is wrong.”

“Yeah, well, that symptom is eating my wife’s pussy,” Benedict grouses loudly, uncaring that a whole bunch of people in the vicinity twist around in their stadium seats and stare at him.

Just fucking great.

—

“Ooh, what about this one?” Kate bounds over, holding some utterly dreadful-looking period romance novel.

“Regency? Sex? Kate, please, I’m not that desperate yet,” you say witheringly, staring over your reading glasses at her.

“You’re newly single. This shit might teach you a few things,” she hums unapologetically, waggling the book at you.

“Please, as if I need some American woman telling me how to fuck a handsome Englishman from 200 years ago,” you roll your eyes and take the book from her.

“Speaking of handsome,” Kate sidles up closer, “someone is staring at you in foreign languages.”

You peel off your glasses and look over to see a face you would never forget lurking by a bookshelf. And it’s a jolt to your being. He’s got to be in his mid-thirties by now and sports a somewhat scraggly but short beard. Damn, he’s still so handsome, your mind screams.

“I know him. You’d like him; he’s married,” you needle sarcastically.

“I don’t see a ring,” Kate counters quietly, “when was the last time you saw him?”

“God, maybe five years ago? And he was moving to Paris. To get married,” you explain as you politely raise a hand to wave and nod.

“So that’s a long time ago,” she stage whispers, “maybe he’s not anymore,” she hints.

“Please, he’s so obnoxious,” you dismiss, even as your heart thumps a little harder as he approaches. “Plus, he never remembers me….”

“Y/n y/l/n,” he says warmly as he pulls up nearby.

Wow, okay, wrong on that count.

“Ben! Ben Bridgerton. Hi!” you breeze, feigning nonchalance and quickly dropping the crappy romance book Kate gave you.

“This is…” you turn around, and Kate is gone, waving next to the Hatchards sign and heading out the door. “Well, that was my friend Kate…. How are you? How’s married life?”

“Ahh, not good,” he winces, and you feel awkward as his face goes crestfallen. “I’m getting divorced.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I really am,” you frown, the sting of your breakup lessened somehow.

“How’s Doctor Dorset?” he perks up.

“Oh, I hear he’s fine. We uhh just broke up. Last month,” you nod, and you exchange glances that are so meaningful.

He looks so much wiser, mellow. And it’s not just the beard. Like the cocksureness and swagger have been knocked out of him. He’s learned some hard lessons about life, living but hurting. Something in your heart reaches out to him.

“Coffee and a catch-up?” you offer casually.

“Actually, I’m starving,” he admits, “how about lunch instead?”

You glance at your phone, and there’s a trademark subtle WhatsApp message from Kate.

Ride that fine thing to Rebound City.

I expect all the deets tmrw.

Woof.

“Urghh, sure, looks like I’m free,” you answer, quickly swiping left to clear the screen.

——

You are sitting on the sunny rooftop terrace at Ham Yard sharing break-up stories. Although it’s selfish to admit it, somehow, his melancholy makes you feel better about yourself. That you are more together than you thought. And even more certain you made the right choice not to get married.

“We used to say how life was great because we didn’t have kids,” you explain, pushing your salad around the plate. “How everyone we knew stopped having sex if they had kids. How we could fuck against the window or on the kitchen table, and no one would walk in on us. And I believed him when he said he didn’t want kids. But then…” you trail off.

“He changed his mind?” Ben intuits; his emotional intelligence momentarily takes you aback.

“He went to stay with his sister for a week to celebrate some family thing; I had to cover an event, so I couldn’t go. Anyway, she has three kids. And he came back different; kept saying maybe kids aren’t so bad. Even after his brother-in-law admitted they no longer had sex cos childcare was so exhausting, mind,” you gesture with your hands. “And he just started to drop hints about how we aren’t getting any younger - I'm only thirty-fucking-one - and how kids ensure a legacy….” you stab a piece of cucumber. “That’s when I snapped, and I just said. Listen, I don’t want kids, and if you do, maybe we need to rethink this engagement, cos I’m not going to change my mind. And he looks at me horrified. As if it doesn’t compute that a woman would never want children. ‘I thought that was just a thing to establish your career, then you’d take a break and have kids. My income more than provides’,”

Benedict huffs a gentle laugh at your deliberately lousy impression.

“And I said back, ‘I love my job, I don’t want to give it up and certainly not to have kids’. And he replied, ‘Well, I want a wife who will give me kids’. And I said, ‘Well, that’s not me’. And then he left.”

Your harsh but accurate summary of that shitty afternoon somehow feels lighter now you’ve shared details. You don’t want to dwell on how odd it is that you’ve given him, a man you’ve seen twice in ten years, more than you shared with your best friend.

“And the thing is, we never did fuck spontaneously like that anyway,” you sigh, sipping your coffee.

“Not on the kitchen table?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Not once. Not even against the window. He doesn’t like doing it standing up,” you shrug.

“That’s a shame. It’s fun,” Benedict opines, but it’s not like in the past when he would’ve used it as a blatant flirtation; it’s more like he’s simply agreeing with an empiric truth.

“Agreed,” you nod and fall silent as you can tell he’s gearing up to talk more.

“I knew Tessa was bisexual when we got together,” he sighs, elaborating on his breakup story. “To be honest, I think that’s what made her so damn sexy at first, the stupid caveman idea she’d be into threesomes,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly at the naivety of his younger self. “I just didn’t think she would do the almost cliched thing and cheat on me with a woman.”

“Doesn’t it hurt less? That it’s not another dick that led her astray?” you frown.

He huffs a laugh. “Never thought of it like that. But it’s more the helplessness of it. That’s the one thing I can’t be, a woman. And that’s what she wants.” he twists his mouth into a thoughtful pout before continuing. “She moved in with her. But she didn’t tell me. Didn’t have the guts. She just kept moving her stuff out slowly. I’d prefer she was honest and told me, but she played mind games. Tried to gaslight me into thinking it was all in my head.”

You drop your fork and decide to inject some humour, knowing the sign that he’s getting too maudlin. “Hold the bloody phone. Did Benedict Bridgerton just use the word gaslight?” you tease. “Bloody hell, we have gotten old.”

He looks up and meets your eye, an appreciative glint in the down-sloped corners as he chuckles in agreement. The look lingers for a beat longer than it should, and all you can think is the slight crinkles around his eyes lend him a more mature beauty, somehow more deadly than the pretty, fresh-faced idiot you shared a car ride with ten years ago. Benedict Bridgerton with heartbreak is a beautiful sight, perverse as it may be to think it.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” you offer conciliatory, reaching out to touch the back of his hand. His skin is soft; you can feel his pulse in the prominent vein under your fingertip, and something in you runs warm.

“You know, the first time we met, I really didn't like you,” he confesses as you withdraw your touch, “you were so uptight about the world; you’re much mellower now.”

“Way to wrap a compliment in an insult,” you pull a face, and he laughs. “You were just utterly nonplussed that someone might not want to fuck you—-that's why you didn't like me,” you add, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“What's the apology deadline for being a young idiot?” he winces and shoots you an adorably contrite expression.

“Hmmm, ten years,” you volley back, unable to stop your grin.

“Oooh, well, it's mid-May, and that was late May, so I am juuuuust in time,” he jests, and you feel a warmth inside your ribs as you smile at each other.

After eating, you find yourselves wandering together, crossing under the mature trees of Golden Square.

“Are we becoming friends? For real this time?” An ironic smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I forgive you for not ever texting me after I gave you my number all those years ago,” he teases, and you blush.

“We might be,” your tone playful.

“Huh, a woman friend,” his brow knitting, “that’s novel.”

You laugh, and again your eyes meet.

“You know you may be the first attractive single woman I don’t want to fuck…” he confesses.

Something in you feels conflicted. Pleased he has matured enough to be that way, flattered he feels willing to admit it to you as a friend, and the part you don’t want to think about too much, the tinge of sadness that fact gives you.

“That’s wonderful, Ben,” you reply as he loops your arm and keeps strolling.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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dlstmxkakwldrlarchive · 3 months

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Tokyo Dome Opening Gate installation for SHINee World VI Perfect Illumination Japan Final in Tokyo Dome Concerts

#240224 #shinee #shinee world vi perfect illumination final in tokyo dome #fantaken #hard era #daily update

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

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well it's love, make it hurt - chapter two

well it's love, make it hurt series

two: watch you hang on every word

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: The Mandalorian teases you on a hunt, and you get your revenge.

Warnings: established d/s relationship but only undertones present here, dirty talk, teasing, bounty hunting, reference to alcohol, mild canon-typical violence, sometimes reader can have a turn being a menace as a treat

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 11: Exhibitionism/Teasing, inspired by @absurdthirst’s Kinktober 2023 prompt list

also on ao3

3 ABY - Summer

“Got eyes on the quarry yet?” you murmur into your drink, taking a tiny sip to keep up appearances. The cantina is a small, but airy, wooden dome. The heavy tarps had been rolled up to let the breeze through the windows, unfortunately also allowing the swollen afternoon sun to shine in right in your line of sight, unable to see more than black shapes at the entrance.

“No, but I’ve got eyes on something else,” Mando says from on the roof across the path, sniper rifle poised and the sun at his back.

You roll your eyes exaggeratedly, knowing he had a good enough view of your profile to catch the movement.

It was your third day staking out the target's alleged watering hole, and coming back another day would be pushing it. Nobody stayed here for long without a reason, and you were running out of them. It was bad enough that you’d had to actually make notes about the local flora to keep up appearances.

“This is, like, my least sexy disguise,” you say. It was also one of your usuals. Nerds, as it turned out, were on the same page as hunters about practical clothing with plenty of storage. You had the requisites for your cover: binocs, glass tubes, tissue samples from various bushes and sprouts, small clippers, and an assortment of tools for gathering specimen. The less obvious pockets had explosives, a switchblade, smoke grenades, and more.

The rusty orange vest and dark olive shirt hung loose enough around your torso to conceal the blaster tucked into your waistband. A commlink is nestled in the ear facing the wall, behind a curtain of your hair.

“I don’t know,” he muses. “Those shorts are pretty short.”

“What has gotten into you today?” You already know the answer. You don’t fuck on hunts, too wary of getting distracted. But the two bounties before this were on the same planet, and now it’s been over a week since you had touched him. And maybe you had left the fresher door open this morning, hoping he would come in, but he didn’t.

He definitely watched, though.

You, at least, had your drink and your datapad. He had nothing to do but watch, and his mind kept replaying filthy memories from between your thighs.

“Like you aren’t thinking about it too,” he says, voice low and rumbling. “I bet you’re starting to soak through those little shorts.”

You don’t respond, swirling the drink idly in the cup and trying to focus on the botanical database.

“I can see your nipples through your shirt, cyar’ika,” he says. “Is it cold in there?”

“Shut up,” you groan. Every time you responded, you had to take a little sip as a cover. At this rate, you were going to end up actually getting drunk.

“So you’re not thinking about what I’m going to do to you when we get back to the Crest?”

“No, I’m thinking about getting off this damp ass pit of a planet.”

“Hmm. That’s too bad.” He wasn’t actually lingering on you through the scope. He was doing his job, keeping watch, and fastidiously ignoring his half-hard cock. “I was going to help myself to something sweet before we left.”

You cursed through gritted teeth. “Behave,” you hiss.

“That’s my line.”

You could hear the smirk through the crackle of the commlink, so you stretch a hand up to scratch the back of your head, middle finger extended.

He laughs, and even through the double distortion of his helmet and the line, it makes you smile.

“Hey, shit, here—” he cuts off, static buzzing.

Your smile wilts as fast as it had sprouted, but you hold your body in the relaxed slouch over the datapad, still idly twirling the cocktail in one hand and annotating something in meaningless shorthand.

The line clicks twice, and you move to stand. Another being comes around the corner of your booth, and you stumble right into them, knocking the violently green remains of your drink over their tan shawl.

“What the hell?” they begin to unwrap it from their neck.

“I’m so sorry, here; please, let me help,” you tell the tall Pantoran woman. You reach for your little napkin on the table and grab for her shawl with the other, tugging her to you with it. The hand that went for the napkin comes back with a blaster, pressed between her shoulder blades where the shawl hung down.

She freezes.

“C’mon, let’s go,” you murmur in her ear.

She turns her head side to side, looking with pleading eyes to see if any of the other patrons had noticed her predicament. If they do, they know better than to care.

“I can pay.” She still isn’t moving.

You nudge her with the nose of the blaster. “Outside.”

In the alley behind the cantina, Mando leans casually against a wall. He has one leg bent, foot against the wall, arms crossed. “Took you long enough,” he says when you shove the bounty toward him.

She stumbles and screams when she sees him.

You cover her mouth with your hand, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, he’s a big, scary Mandalorian. Shut up about it.”

Mando forces her arms behind her back and claps the binders on tight, magnetizing them to the side of a stack of crates.

“What’re you doing?” You try to ask, but he crowds you against the wall in seconds, gloved hands running down your sides.

“Need you,” he huffs.

“Are you kriffing kidding me?” the quarry yells.

Mando puts one hand on the holster facing her, and she falls silent.

“C’mon, baby, please.”

You go to push him off and roll your eyes, but at the last minute, decide to wrap your fingers into the cowl of his cape instead. “You need me now, huh? Got yourself worked up?”

He squeezes your waist in warning, but lets you move him so your positions were switched. Well. He cooperates when you tug on his cowl. You aren’t stupid enough to think you could actually move him when he was in full beskar. He was like a broken repulsortank.

His head falls back against the wall when you sink down to your knees in the filthy alley. The quarry tries very hard to look anywhere else. You palm him through his trousers, and he groans, clenching a gloved hand in your hair.

You nuzzle your face against him, pressing kisses through the fabric. He reaches down to pull his cock out, but you wrap a hand around his wrist and use it to pull yourself to your feet.

“Where’re you going, sweetheart?” He tries to pull you closer, and you duck out of his reach, laughing.

“We’re on a job, Mando, where do you think I’m going?” You call over your shoulder, already walking out of the alley and leaving him to grab the woman.

“Gonna pay for that,” he warn.

You spin around and grin. “No, I’m not. We’re not home, sweetheart.”

You turn and keep going, missing the way he stops for a moment, jerking the bounty in the process.

Home. It rings in his head, ricocheting off the helmet and his boner-addled brain.

“Should have just shot me. Then I wouldn’t have had to see that,” the bounty grumbles.

He snaps, “Shut up,” and gives her a harsh shove forward, following your leisurely path back to the Crest.

*title from "Sink Into Me" by Taking Back Sunday

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #dom din djarin #kinktober 2023 #make it hurt verse #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fic

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