passenger princess / ln4
established relationship lando norris x fem!reader
no use of y/n, as always.
in which the weekend takes a twist, and all you want is a baby.
prompt⋯ hi! first of all, i absolutely ADORE your writing. i’ve been reading all of your stuff for the past few days!! second, i was scrolling on pinterest and i rediscovered the lando daddy bracelet pic. that combined with THE dutch gp pic made me be down even worse for him. with that i request a fic with an established reader x lando relationship. that’s set during the weekend of the 2024 dutch gp. where he wears the bracelet over the course of the weekend and it gets you(? or me? idk how to phrase that) really worked up, and after he wins they fuck while he’s still wearing it. and it’s like the most rough feral sex known to mankind. but at the end you want him to come in you and he’s like “oh you wanna make me a daddy”. like yes it is a slight breeding kink but it’s more of the idea of the bracelet and how he definitely knew what he was doing when he wore it (in the fic and irl too tbh). that’s the general idea but feel free to put your own spin on it!! i am incredibly down bad for him and that photo did something to me. ty 🤗🧡
a/n ⋯ yeah tbh i got no excuse for this one chat...like...how could i not resist a breeding kink...i know y'all want it too. but for real--- thank you anon for being patient. i had a lot of fun writing this in between doing work. writing is an escape for me. thank you to all for the continued support, and i'll be continuing to get through asks as time moves along. comment below to be added to my taglist, or comment in general! i love replying to all of them as much as i can.
warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, breeding kink, impregnation, teasing, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, begging, mating press-- allat shit tbh. if i miss a warning, let me know.
wc ⋯ 8.5k (unedited.)
things had begun to be different between you and lando. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the gears shifted, the stars aligned, though you only cared how good it made you feel with him.
but he knew. he knew exactly when.
you’d been dating lando for two years now. it was two years of pure bliss— the exciting lifestyle that you’ve craved, the love and care, the passion that you shared with him was exquisitely yours. he is yours. and you are his.
that morning in the paddock he was speaking to max, chattering about the post collision from hungaroring. they seemed to make up in due time, finding it easier to call one another “brother’s” again, despite the damages done to their cars and the media in an uproar about their impish, punitive behaviors. you didn’t spare any glance towards the comments made about it, knowing that lando had been in a rough shape that weekend.
you played with penelope, p, as they were talking, squatted on the ground with colored pens in your hand. kelly loomed behind, on her phone, thankful enough that you could occupy her for the time being. you had no issue entertaining her. you loved being around children…most of the time.
“this one?” you held out the red pen for p, as she was pointing to with a bashful look. she was shy– especially around you, given your ethereal, wanderlust nature. you carried yourself in such an elegant way that could facilitate a ray of sunlight through the most tepid storms.
she nodded and you handed it to her. she latched her smaller hand around it, coloring in the rb20 from her sketchbook. your hand fell beneath your chin as you watched her carefully color inside the lines, dreading falling out of it. you smiled as she did, the dress you wore crinkling fashionably around your thighs.
p flashed the page at you nervously, awaiting her input. your eyes glowed, sparkles falling onto the page as you scanned it. she really did do a good job.
“beautiful, p!” you commented, your palm splaying over her upper back. “you’re really good at this, you know?”
a shade of red filled her cheeks, warming her skin. you hadn’t meant to embarrass her, nor make her nervous.
“do you want to color one with me?” you asked her, pointing to the pages in the book. she hesitated for a moment, as if she didn’t hear you properly, but ended up nodding with the same excitement that she did when she’d see max on the podium. “you pick. something…pretty.”
the gears were turning in her head as she flipped through the pages, trying to find the perfect one for you and her to work on. you, on the other hand, were focused on how her brows scrunched together as she furiously searched through her booklet. it was cute the way she perceived things. she was a cutie. it made you think about your own future, what you wanted.
what you wanted,
your eyes drifted from the carpeted floors inside the hospitality room, to the shoes that he wore, and up his black jeans to the papaya livery he sported for the day. you lingered on the expanse of his chest, the tan skin peaking through the v-neck of his unbuttoned collar. your mouth watered instinctively, thinking about how lucky you were to have a man like lando love you so deeply.
as you glanced further up towards his chin, the unshaved rigid surface that sparked electricity over your body, you found him already looking down at you. he wasn’t even paying attention to max at this point, already giving you all of his attention and you didn’t even need to ask.
you gave him a smile, covering your lips afterward to stifle your giggle, and turned back to p once she tapped you that she’d found a picture for the two of you to color.
“mate?”
lando was lost in a daze staring at you. gawking at your figure, the dress you decided to wear. it was a denim colored sheath that you’d twin with alexandra with. she’d wear the gia dress in a pomegranate hue, whereas you took the navy.
lando’s hand was cupped against his chin, rubbing over his stubble, keen on watching how you interacted with p.
your relationship had progressed further than he’s ever gotten to before in his life. he was at a point where he knew he didn’t want anyone else, to explore someone else’s body the way he did yours. he knew you, inside and out, and he didn’t think another connection was even fathomable.
you appeared to be so gentle with her, taking the time to listen to what she wanted you to do, how to color, maneuver the pens. there would be no outside the line coloring on her watch, that was for sure.
he found himself smiling bright.
do you want kids?
he knew that he did. he always knew that. but he’d never broach the subject to you directly. your relationship with him was secure, but was it eligible to be taken to the next level? would you be frightened by his sudden urge to create a life with you? a product of him, and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?
“yeah? sorry.” lando looked back towards max. but it was too late, and max was looking over his shoulder towards you and p.
when he looked back towards lando, he threw his hands up in defense. max rolled his eyes. “don’t know why you haven’t proposed to her yet. what’re you waiting for?”
lando bristled. he waited a moment to answer, wondering the same fucking thing. what was he waiting on? the perfect time, perhaps. summer break was rapidly approaching, and he certainly had a ring picked out.
the papaya clad driver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, settled on the right one, and handed it to max. the other driver took it, zooming in, not that he needed to.
“when?”
lando shrugged. “summer break. greece, maybe.”
max cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. “you’re serious, mate?” lando nodded. max pulled him in for a hug, slapping him over the back. he couldn’t be happier for his best friend in this moment, starting to jump up and down. lando settled him down and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“keep it quiet. i want her to be surprised.”
max made a motion of a lock and key. “surprised about what?”
lando felt giddy.
you hadn’t been paying much attention to what lando nor max were chittering about. you’d been so hyper focused on coloring with p, that you were absent minded of the conversation behind you.
p had picked out a cartoon illustration of max and lando smiling towards the viewer. you’d thought it was an adorable choice, and it showed that p was more aware than what she led on to be. she, of course, started coloring in max. with his neutrally blonde hair, redbull cap, she was fast working.
but then she shoved the book towards you, politely anyways, and pointed at lando, who was yet to be colored in.
“my turn?” she nodded her head, handing you the orange marker.
you grinned, carefully coloring in the lines of the drawing before p took a deep breath. “are you and lando married?”
the question had you freeze momentarily, taken back by her question. “no, p, we’re not.”
you continued to color, whilst she continued to question. “why not?”
“because he hasn’t asked me.”
“why don’t you ask him?”
“i’m not sure that’s what he wants.”
p raised a brow. she looked towards lando and max, giggling together like school girls, then back to you and your focused coloring.
she handed you a brown marker for lando’s curls. “i think you should.”
now it was your turn to be inquisitive, “really, now?”
she nodded her head without hesitating. “then you’d be my aunt!” she giggled.
you colored in lando’s curls, carefully, diligently, thinking of how they felt beneath your fingertips. your breath hitched thinking about the thought of him proposing, wondering if he had ever even thought about it. you knew what your answer would be. it wouldn’t even take a beat of your heart to give him in answer, if he chose to ask. if he chose you.
with one final stripe of a black marker, your drawing of lando had been finished. you stood up, and so did p.
“are you going to have babies?”
“p!” you gasped, mouth dropping. “that’s none of your business, young lady.”
she laughed, twirling around. “what? that’s what mama says happens when you love someone.” confident, wasn’t she? “do you love lando?”
“of course i do, p.”
she gasped.
“is there a baby in there right now?!” she seemed concerned, becoming so bold as to touch your stomach. it was a little higher than where your womb sat beneath your skin, but close enough.
you shook your head. “no, honey. i am not having a baby right now.”
she looked disappointed. taking her hand back, she crossed them over her chest.
“penelope, what are you going on about?” kelly finally chimed in, rubbing p’s back with her hand.
“nothing.”
but it wasn’t nothing.
lando appeared behind you, a hand on your lower back. you leaned into him, recognizing his touch, and you got a brief wave of panic wondering if he heard your conversation with p.
“p,” lando said over your shoulder. she looked up. “do you still have your bracelet making kit?”
she nodded again, though you weren’t quite sure what he’d need it for. you guessed you’d find out eventually, because lando uttered, “it’s a secret, sorry baby.”
and he followed p to her small table, pulling out the kit from her backpack. she had taken lando’s hand to guide him, and you watched fondly.
too fondly, you thought, and knew you were in deep shit.
the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be.
in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.
you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress.
relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs.
your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other.
“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on.
“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling.
and a good one at that.
qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.
flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.
lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car.
“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter.
you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit.
“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief.
he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized.
‘daddy’
you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. is this the bracelet he had made with p?
lando let out a short laugh. “like it?”
you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger.
“wore it for you.”
the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded.
and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.”
you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door.
the following day was race day. you were dressed flawlessly, curating perfection with your outfits to match the same prestige that lando had with his fans. also, you enjoyed feeling pretty. looking pretty, as lando would often say to you. he didn’t forget this morning either, arriving to the paddock with you in tow, hand wrapped tightly with yours.
as he took selfie after selfie, signed hat after hat, he didn’t forget to remind you, “you look beautiful,” that always brought a smile to your face, a blush fanning your cheeks.
when the two of you made it inside of mclaren’s hospitality, you were greeted by both lily and oscar. you gave her a warming hug, and she returned it with the same affirmation. when you separated, she danced on her tip-toes. lando and oscar side stepped toward the tea and coffee station, chatting amongst themselves.
“wow!” you were confused, raising a brow. “front row for him, hmm? told you, had nothing to worry about.”
you rolled your eyes, still holding anxieties for the race. you were always concerned going into a weekend. no matter how many grand prix’s you’ve attended, seen lando come out safe and sound, you still picked at the skin of your fingertips. anxious habits die hard.
lando’s managers came in alongside oscar’s beckoning both mclaren drivers to follow them to get ready for the race. lando found you instantly, his hands finding the handles on your hips, squeezing inward. you tensed at the action, wondering what had him on such edge.
you spun, hands running from his chest up to his neck, his cheeks. you cupped his face in your hands, sheepishly smiling.
“you’ll win this for me?”
he scoffed, “always.”
you smiled harder—if that was possible— and connected your lips with his. he returned your kiss, diving deep into your mouth. he held you close by your lower back, as if this was the last time that he’d ever kiss you. he sought to deepen your kiss by the clacking of your teeth, his tongue incessantly searching the inside of your mouth.
you separated yourself, still holding onto his cheeks. lando dipped his forehead against yours, seeking another kiss, but you pulled away. “go. they’re waiting for you.”
“don’t care.”
you flushed, allowing him one last peck before you patted his cheek. “seriously. go.”
he chuckled to himself, kissing the top of your head, uttering a soft “i love you,” before being swept away.
“i love you too.” you mouthed, returning your attention back to lily. she was in awe of how you and lando behaved, carving such a rugged, playful boy into a man of posture and mannerisms that were only reflected by your good nature.
“what?”
“nothing…” she looked away.
“lily.”
“you’ve got that man on a leash,” she broke into a fit of giggles. you looked back to where they were walking out. lando had been looking for you, then at you. he gave a wave, you returned it, then looked back at lily.
“i prefer the term ‘free-roaming.’”
the race was coming to an end with a single lap left. lando led the race with a twenty-two second lead, and your hands were clasped tightly together with your headset on. you listened carefully to his radio messages, sassy and revving, and had your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. with lily by your side, the two of you were anxiously awaiting the end.
your face suddenly appeared on screen, displaying your glistening eyes, perfectly done makeup and hair. a chic smile grew on your cheeks. you turned towards the camera man and allotted a small wave. your name appeared under the screen, lando norris’ partner.
god…
was there anything more prideful than that?
surely there was, but it didn’t matter to you. you were there to support your boyfriend, lando, your lando, and it was more than enough to see that you were recognized as that.
the checkered flag appeared and lando was on the headline for crossing. you had to clutch your heart, hoping to grip it from the inside out to slow its beating, and it didn’t cease when his mcl38 zipped past the flag.
there was an eruption of cheers throughout the garage and you were swarmed with love by the fellow mechanics and lily, too, who was happy for you to witness such a grand victory. a more than well earned victory.
a second one in the books for him. you couldn’t have been happier.
the podium gathering didn’t take long, and you managed to be at the front of the barricade, shoved forward by the team. you stood there, graceful and beautiful as he always saw you, and you were the loudest to clap and cheer as he walked out from the cool down room.
“your winner, lando norris…!” and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, the camera picking up your emotional feedback on the big screen. his eyes caught to it from the bannister, stepping up onto the tallest podium, and found you right at the front. his heart melted, dripped a red hot flame that burned for you. to see you there for him, emotional above all, solidified his feelings. what he wanted in his future.
you. you above anything else. you above racing, his career, his everything. he had nothing if you weren’t by his side.
he took off his pirelli hat and let the national anthem play. the camera panned away from you then to zak brown. you swayed gently to the anthem, lost in your own world of loving him. you saw him through clear glasses, though he was always your rose. there was nothing more that you wanted in the future than to be with him. you and lando.
after his attributed champagne pop, the crowd dissipated from the pit lane and you engaged in conversations with different women, friends, and coworkers of mclaren. you were jovial with your presence, engaged as much as you could be, though your thoughts kept tracing back to him. lando, lando, lando.
you ended your evening in conversations with the ferrari women— alexandra, rebecca, and one of charles’ friends, marta. you’re a recent acquaintance, meeting her only just a few moments ago. she was noticeably pregnant, and you wondered if that was just the recurring theme of the day.
“how far along are you?” rebecca chimed in.
“about twenty weeks, i think.” she smiled, holding her bump and leaning back into one of her heels to get a more comfortable angle.
“half way there! are you excited?” you asked her, sipping your sparkling water.
“of course,” she grimaced, though there was joy behind her eyes. “it can be hard, but it’s worth it. always worth it to see my husband with my daughter, and now it’ll be brand new with this babe.”
you gave her a heart-warming smile.
“they kick every so often—” she grimaced again, reeling her face into a tight knot. “like right now. do you want to feel?” she was looking at you. it took you a second to understand that she was referring to you, but you jumped at the opportunity.
“are you sure…?”
marta nodded. “put your hand here,” she placed your hand on her right side. you waited a moment before there was a small lurch beneath your palm. you looked up at her in pure disbelief, marveled by such a feeling. you wondered what it’d feel like to feel your own baby kick.
“so…” alexandra leered mischievously, “do you plan on having children? with lando?”
is everyone asking that today?
you stood up straight, embarrassed by the question, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “for sure. there’s no one else i want. whenever the time is right.”
“he’d be such a good dad.” alexandra added, and you couldn’t agree more.
“you should’ve seen him earlier with penelope—” the girls were reeling at your story. “making bracelets with her. almost tripped over my own dress,” you covered your mouth to laugh, attempting to keep your voice down.
“someone has baby fever.” marta commented.
“ugh,” rebecca groaned. “you two are picturesque. alex and i were just talking about it.”
“oh?” you wished to know more by their insinuation. it wasn’t often that you listened to anything about you or lando’s relationship. half of the time it was negative comments from fans across social media, and you didn’t want the other half to get to your head. you knew you were lucky as is, the least you could do was stay humble.
“ohhhh most definitely.” alexandra nodded. “you’ve been together for what— ever? we’re waiting for an engagement post.”
you were floored. it has been a good amount of time. “so am i,” it came as a laugh. you wondered if lando thought about it. if the thought ever crossed his mind— the possibility of you becoming his wife.
it did.
he was watching you. he’d been done with his interviews for a good ten minutes now, but he was gripped by the scene unfolding before him. he had distracted himself by glancing at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through notifications. but he was staring. hard.
your hand was so tender-loving as it grazed marta’s baby bump. you looked up at her with a graceful smile, asking her important questions about her pregnancy. why were you so interested?
fuck, he hoped the answer he wanted was what you were thinking.
you, pregnant in your floral dresses, pleated gowns, traipsing around the halls of your joint home. barefoot, glowing, effervescent. he could see it now. the vision coming to life, coming to fruition from just a mere fantasy. he felt his dick twitch in his pants, his groin running hot.
he overheard the conversation, too.
“do you plan on having children? with lando?”
for sure. there’s no one else i’d want.
fuuuuck. lando had to turn around, attempting to calm himself down. his entire body was aflame, an eternal gloss of bliss for wanting you. needing you. he needed to feel you. your touch. your skin beneath him, the way you curl effortlessly against the shape of his body.
yeah, he’s fucked.
after a few calming deep breaths, he was at least presentable. with his calmed down cock, he immediately made a beeline in your direction. he wanted—no, needed to get his hands around you as soon as possible. it was a world-ending feeling that suffocated him, gripped him by the throat.
you heard him approach before you saw him. lando’s hands were warm around your hips as he pulled you close. you felt the outline of his cock in his pants as he jut his hips forward. you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing up at him.
his nose found a home in the curve of your neck. you giggled when you felt his stubble tickle your skin, a hand coming instinctively to hold the side of his face tight against your skin. he breathed soundly against you, finding eternal peace of mind plastered against your body.
“it was nice seeing you alex, rebecca.” you began to bid your farewells. “marta, it was a pleasure to meet you.” marta leaned in for a hug, which pulled you away from the warmth of lando’s body. you felt like a snail ripped from its shell— hollow, cold.
“the same for you,” pregnancy looked good on her. though, you can’t recall the last time you’ve seen her without a baby blooming inside her. “if you ever need advice…alex has my number.”
you blushed, feeling lando’s hand around your lower belly tense. “thank you. i’ll be in touch.” you glance towards rebecca and alexandra, following lando’s pace back to the car.
lando’s eyes were hot as they drilled holes into the side of your head. you could feel it, though you weren’t even looking at him. “i can feel your urge to talk, lan.”
he laughed, holding your hand tight in his. “no. no, it’s nothing.”
you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest.
“okay, okay,” he apologized, taking your hand back into his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. his lips were warm and wet against your skin. your breath hitched.
“well, go on, then.”
“this is the congratulations i get? damn, baby, you’re rugged.”
you shoved his face away, beginning to walk back to the car once more. “you know i’m proud. don’t be silly, now.”
“i know, i know,” there was a brief silence. “you can show me in other ways.”
“lando!” you gasped, and he broke into a fit of laughter. “dirty bastard.” you mumbled.
“what was that, baby?”
“nothing. nothing. just like what you wanted to tell me, i guess.” two can play at this game. you heard him scoff, but ultimately relent.
“alright, alright. i just…” he became shy with the tone of his voice. you could recognize it instantly. “heard your conversation with the girls, is all.”
you attempted your best effort to still your facial expressions from annoyance, shock, embarrassment, and all of the fucking above.
“you heard…all of it?”
“the gist.”
you tried to cover your face to shield yourself from the world. god, that was your fucking nightmare. you hadn’t ever even touched upon a subject like that with him before. and now he had heard it from you talking to your girlfriends? oh, you just felt like the worst girlfriend in the world right now.
“fuck. i didn’t mean to—”
“no, baby,” he opened the car door for you to slip into the passenger seat. you stepped in, gripping his forearm to sit down.
when he climbed in himself and turned over the engine, you shifted to face him. before you could even open your mouth to speak, he cut you off.
“i want kids, too, you know. with you.”
“oh.” a weight lifted from your shoulders in that moment, and then you felt utterly stupid for thinking that he would’ve reacted badly. this is your lando you’re talking to. a man you can share anything with. “you do?”
he looked flabbergasted. “you’re joking, right?”
you shot your hands up in defense. “i don’t know! children aren’t exactly…temporary. i just— i didn’t know if you thought of me—”
“you’re permanent, love.” his hand wrapped around your thigh as he pulled out of the driver’s lot, whipping past the fans that were keen on snapping a picture of him.
though you’ve known that, deep down, it still hit you like the first time he told you that he loved you. a jaw-dropping epiphany that had been right in front of you the whole time. you’d been short-sighted, enjoying every moment that you had with him, and had become unknowing about the future you’ve been perpetuating with him.
you covered his hand with your own, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. the charm bracelet ‘daddy’ dangled between your fingers, rolling the beads over and over again.
“you’d make a good daddy, wouldn’t you?” you said the words under your breath, but even he could hear them like you’d shouted them in his face. he tightened his grip around your thigh.
“don’t say things like that,” he shook his head, eyes locked on the road ahead.
the air became heavy between you two. when wasn’t it? not only did passion run through your veins, but heinous desire breathed life to your souls.
“why?” you stroked the top of his hand with your nails. “you heard what i said to the girls.” his head lolled against the back rest. “what’s different now?”
you felt the car accelerate. it vibrated the cushion you were nestled atop of, sending shockwaves through your cunt.
“driving me fucking nuts, darling.”
you knew you were. it was the secret to your relationship— the two of you understanding what made you tick. seethe with lust until there was no other option for you to climb him like a tree.
it didn’t take long before he reached the hotel, pulling up to the front. you were getting your things to get up, but he was lost on his phone, pretending to be busy. “coming?” you asked.
“pfft—” you could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror. “i wish. give me a second.” you couldn’t help but huff to yourself under your breath, stepping out of the car with your heels clinking to the ground.
with your purse over your shoulder you stepped up onto the curb, but was distracted by a small voice echoing over your shoulder.
down the sidewalk was a mother and a stroller. you smirked lowly, taking only the few steps it’d take to reach the mother and child.
“oh my gosh,” you squealed. the mother was taken back, but by your demeanor and eyes on her baby, she returned a smile. by her pink bonnet and bunny swath, you knew she was the cutest thing you’d ever laid eyes on. “she is just the cutest thing!”
“thank you,” the woman said.
“she looks just like her mama,” you heard lando’s car door open, most definitely within earshot. “don’t you, sweet thing? yes you do!” you cooed at the baby, who erupted in a fit of louder giggles and mumbles.
the mother was flushed, but happy. “you’re too kind. you’re good with children? do you have any of your own?”
jackpot..!!
you clutched your purse as you stood up straight. you played into your theatrics, “oh gosh, i wish! my husband and i have been trying for ages, but he’s just so busy with work…”
the woman tsked with disappointment for you. “you’d make a beautiful mother,”
“you think so?”
she nodded her affirmation.
“that’s so sweet of you.” you were really milking this scene, especially that you knew lando was listening.
“is that your husband there?” she pointed to over your shoulder. and there he was, your husband, watching the two of you from behind the ajar car door.
“mmm, yes, it is.” you offered a cordial wave to him. he stuck two fingers up for a lazy wave, waiting for you to return to him. “i should go. it was a pleasure, ma’am. your baby is adorable.”
she nodded a thanks, and you took your sweet time walking back to the car. you could hear lando tapping the windshield incessantly. before his head dipped down back into the car he called, “get back in.”
you…admit, you were confused. brows furrowed, you opened the passenger side door and bent down, “why—?”
“get in the car,” your name was a rumble in his chest. you still didn’t know what he was doing nor going, and your stubborn self wouldn’t settle for a verbal answer.
you took too long for him. gripping your arm, he pulled you into the passenger seat, and you landed on your ass with a ‘thump’.
he fired up the engine again and pulled out of the traffic circle of the hotel. he radiated with heat— you could feel it from where you sat. “where are we going?”
he didn’t answer you.
you crossed your arms and legs, looking out the window. the area was unknown to you, but lando always seemed like he knew where he was going.
it took only a minute for him to pull into an empty level of a parking garage, dimly lit with only one overhead light at the entrance of the ramp. he put the car in park.
“what are we—”
you couldn’t finish your sentence until you were on his lap, hands gripping your waist so tightly that you had to gasp for air.
“husband?”
oh
oh…!
well, this was a change you welcomed with open arms.
he lowered the seat back until you were straddled atop of him, fingers aimlessly toiling with the zipper of his jeans.
“don’t know what you’re—”
he snapped upward, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “baby,” he breathed, and you shivered. “what do you want?”
your hips naturally moved back and forth against his own, dress hiked well above your stomach. his hand snaked between your legs, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. he hummed when you didn’t reply, flicking his finger upward to graze your clit.
you mewled.
“what was that?”
your hand twisted around the hem of his shirt. you were already breathless, clenching around nothing except the sound of his words.
“tell me,” he muttered, staring up at your disheveled state. he made quick work of sliding your panties to the side, massaging the folds of your cunt between his fingers. you continued your writhing against him.
“want you,” was what you managed to breathe out, hips rutting against his palm. he tsked, but allowed you this moment. a moment for him to bask in the way that you move your hips, writhe against his clothed cock that was egregiously hardening by the second and each amount of pressure you applied.
he slid his fingers in and out of you with ultra maneuvering, in and out, all around. he was a mastermind when it came to feeling you up, exploring you both on the outside, and the in. you were in heaven, ultimately, when he curled his fingers so deeply upon thrusting them. your cunt tightened so viciously around him that he groaned, his head falling back and his hardened cock thrusting upward. to no avail, his dick was strained against the cloth of his pants.
“fuck,” he cussed, curling his fingers over and over again. your body began to shiver, and only began to fall from grace when his thumb traced against your clit. stimulation grew hotter and hotter, until you let out a piercing moan from the depths of your throat. he angled his fingers differently, making you squirm.
“lando!” you breathed, feeling your climax creeping up on you faster than you could even blink. your core tightened, a coil of veracious flames churning around each other manifesting a slew of energy that released sparks from your nerves. your folds were inflamed, puffy, beating hot that you couldn’t think straight. lando was touching you with his other hand anywhere that he could reach. he palmed your breasts through your dress, twisted a nipple to earn a delicious squeal.
“come on, sweet thing,” he encouraged you with that stupid lopsided smile of his, you were looking down on him, sweat beading at his forehead, pupils blown dark and wide. his hand that was groping your breast moved upward, threading around the column of your throat. “show daddy what you’re made of.”
his hand tightened, and you felt the coil snap. he continued to pump his fingers in and out, maneuvering so perfectly, hitting that exact spot with precision.
he knew you came when your eyes rolled back into your head, legs quivering around his waist. god, you’re a sexy thing.
his hand loosened from around your neck, dropping to your chest, fiddling with the van cleef necklace he had gifted you. it reeked of possession, marking you as his with the “l.n.” initials engraved on the back of the golden surface.
the moment of bliss passed before he was pulling the zipped down from your dress and throwing it from over your head. your panties were next, though the fabric was thin as is. there you were, bare and glistening, before your so-called ‘husband’ as you had worded it. he wouldn’t forget it, a spark igniting within him that was lit by the phrase leaving your tongue. he didn’t think that it would affect him so much—
but it did.
he made quick work of his own pants, shoving them down to his knees beneath you, breathless and needy.
you gripped the hem of his shirt. he lifted his arms to hasten the process, and the shirt went to the back seat. with his skin exposed, you couldn’t help but run your hands along his tan, toned chest. it made you dripping wet, though he was barely touching you now.
with your skin atop of his, carnage was sure to ensue. he took a drag of his fingers against your wet cunt and brought it to his lips. he sucked on them, releasing with a ‘pop.’ your mouth hung open in anticipation for what he was going to do next. he always kept you on your toes.
but this…this is not what you expected.
he took a ring from his index finger, plated in silver, and slid it onto your ring finger on your left hand. the wedding finger.
it stuck to your sweaty palm, sure enough to not slip off.
“let’s make it official then, pretty girl.”
you sat upon him astonished, looking down at the adornment that he had given to you. it dazzled on your finger.
“if you’re my wife, what does that make me?”
the words trembled from your lips, thighs tightening around his own. you could feel his dick sprung to life against your backside. “my husband.”
“good, baby, you learn fast.”
you gulped, finally taking a look at him from his propped upright position. he was downright smitten with you, guzzling everything about you inside of him. you were his, so much fucking so, that he was going to ruin you. and he didn’t even feel bad for wanting it.
“my husband…” you repeated, lowering your face down to meet his own. he smelled so good—a mix of sweat and his cologne.
his hand tangled into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to meet your eye level.
“makes me fucking crazy when y’say it…”
you knew that was the truth. you’d known the minute you sat down in the car. his demeanor had changed, shifted to something darker that you didn’t quite understand. it was insane enough as is that you’d discovered so many things about him within a short period of time.
“husband, daddy…what’s the difference?” you cooed, kissing up and down his neck. he groaned, landing a smack on your ass that had you giggling.
“‘ll just make you a mommy if you keep throwin’ that word ‘round.”
you grinned ear to ear. against his cheek, you took a deep breath in, before letting go.
“daddy.”
if you’ve ever made a good decision in your life, this has to be the best. a switch flipped. gears started to turn in his head. the spark plug burst into flames.
you were his undoer,
the key to his shackled restraint,
the sun to his universe.
it was always you. you’d been right in front of him for the past two years. two years to get to this point. two years for the woman he loved most in this world to be sucking his neck whispering ‘daddy’ into his ear.
lando sat upright in the seat. with a hand at the back of your head, he forced eye contact with you. this was different. this look. you could feel it in your heart, your folds, as they began to beat synchronously. life with him was euphoria, and sex had been the serendipitous release for both of you.
but seeking the future together?
heaven incarnate.
despite being locked inside such a tight space, lando managed to swap your position with a suave move. you were on your back, shocked by his carnal rampage, as he hooked your legs upward. your toes scathed the ceiling of the car, pressed deep into the metal chassis.
“kiss me,” you demanded with the breath that you could take. he didn’t waste a second, leaning down to your lips and capturing you with the most breathtaking press that he could muster. his tongue and your own fought for dominance over one another; you lost, quickly, unable to match his revered pace.
he wanted to eat you from top to bottom. devour your insides, carry you with him every day of his life. you would be his, one way or another, and he didn’t care how it was.
lucky enough, you were more than willing to be his bride, his lover, his person.
because he was yours.
then he was inside of you. braving the treachery of your tight walls, he hissed when the tip of his cock slipped through your folds. you’d been dripping on the leather seat.
“fuck, baby…” his head fell to the crevice of your neck and collarbone.
“oh my goddd…” the moan you both let out was terribly lewd, grotesque, even, with how he didn’t start a pace. you both savored this sweet moment of lust, passion, and a figurative toast to a lifelong commitment to fucking one another.
with each thrust he took, he aimed to make a statement. deeper and deeper he penetrated you, his cock crafted of divine measure with how he quartered your g-spot.
you could never stay still beneath him. it had him on edge the way you squirmed. dare say it was one of the most favorite things about you, though the list would be never-ending. you shiver from pleasure, leaning into him as your cunt squelches beneath you.
echoes of moans bounce off the interior of the car, whilst a smile of greed and possession conceives on his own cheeks. the angle he has you at is deeper than any that you’ve had before— it left no room for noncommittal nature, no room for you to complain about wanting him closer, more, more, more.
“y’feel me here?” his hand rest on your lower belly, your womb, as he applied pressure. you do feel him there. the indent of his cock is poignant, bulging out from the skin.
“mhm…!” you whine, trying to keep your mouth shut from the onslaught of moans pouring out.
his attention turned to your tits as he swallowed a nipple whole with his tongue, sucking feverishly at the sensitive bud. it had you weak, dribbling to puddy.
he could only think about how you’d look pregnant. swollen tits, round belly, glowing with his child.
“this what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace quickening. you were too dumb to speak, a droplet of drool leaking from your mouth. “hm? fuck you—fuck, fill you up?”
your back arched at the sentence, not knowing that his words could have such an arousing effect on you. this arousal was different. the way you clench around him was different. your actions spoke a lot louder than your words.
“yeah? i can feel you, darling.” sounds of skin slapping and your hoarse voice could only be heard. he fucked you so good, treated you even better. fuck it, you’d rather be pregnant than anything else.
“please, please…” you didn’t know what you were pleading for, in truth— he was already fucking you like he’d been in a rut.
“yeah? that what you want? want a baby?”
your head nodded furiously up and down, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks. lando bent down to kiss them away, followed by a capturing of your lips. he swallowed your breaths, your moans. he trailed kisses down the column of your throat; your collarbones, breasts, nipples, nothing went untouched by his mouth.
“god…these…” he muttered against your tits, voice sending shockwaves through your body. “imagine how big they’d be.” he managed to chuckle to himself. “swollen and beautiful,” he kissed the top of your abdomen.
“lando…”
his head shot up from his daze.
“the time is right. please, please—” your words seemed to hit him like a truck. the foreplay had turned reality, and he was more than ready to lurch into fate.
“what, pretty girl?”
your face flushed, biting your lip. “give me a baby, need it—lan, need it so bad.” your hand found the back of his neck, tugging on the strands of his hair.
he tsked, his pace evening out to a level throttle. your lips formed a sweet pout, and he stroked your chin with his index finger. “give you?” he mocked. “oh, don’t think that’s how we ask, do we?”
“lan…please, please, can i have your baby? need it so bad lando, need it…” you swallowed your breath. “daddy…wanna make you a daddy…please.”
it was more than enough for him. “atta girl.” he grunted, deepening his lackluster thrusts into thrilling rides on his cock. “y’learn fast…kids ‘r gonna be so smart.”
“yes, yes! so good, lan.” you heaved, the heat in your cunt finding a boiling point, and he felt it by how tight you became around him.
“go on, baby, take it. be a good girl and take it all.” you’d do anything to hear your lando call you a good girl. it had been more than enough to send you over the edge into a spiraling orgasm that had slick seeping around his cock. your vision whitened, and you could only see the shadow of your ‘husband’ through the light.
with sloppy thrusts, lando came with ease. he didn’t pull out urgently, letting his cum soak inside of you. he peppered kisses along your ankles, your calves, and let them fall to the seat.
out of breath, your chests rose and fell at a rapid pace. lando’s forehead connected with your own, and through the haze of post-sex, he smiled at you.
you smiled back. the two of you broke into a laugh.
“fuckin’ knew that was gonna happen today.” he commented lazily into your chest. a hand of yours threaded through his brown curls.
“your mastermind plan to babytrap me.”
he raised a brow. “did you plan on leaving?”
you gave him a knowing look. “not in the slightest.”
he became embarrassed and sheepish as he hid his face into your ribs. “no chance of it, now.”
you chuckled, flexing your fingers to see the ring still there. “i want a real proposal, by the way.”
his head shot up. “what? this wasn’t good enough?”
you palmed his face with one hand, and tugged the back of his curled head with the other. “bastard.”
it only took you two ten minutes to get your clothes back on from such a leisurely excursion from the empty parking garage. covered in his spit, sweat, and cum, you didn’t feel….dirty.
when he finally pulled up to the valet and opened the door for you, you stepped out as graciously as possible. though your hair was a tangled mess— you tried your best. lucky enough it was late enough to where minimal paparazzi were gathered. thank god.
you shifted on your feet, shimmying the dress down, but lando came to your rescue. he pulled the dress down where it was crumpled at the back, caught between the hem of your soaked underwear.
“that was a rental, wasn’t it?” you pointed out, looking over your shoulder.
“they should auction it.”
you spun around and laughed in his face, gagged by the ego he has. “you have a big head.”
“need all that room for you.”
“cheesy.”
lando’s eyes lit up— though exhausted from the day and your antics, the sun still rose for him— “almost forgot—” he reached into his pocket whilst you waited patiently.
he pulled out a bracelet.
a friendship bracelet.
“thought it suited you.” he put it around your wrist, and you analyzed it clearly. in white, capitalized letters it read:
“MOMMY”
“you really had this thing planned.” you were impressed.
he shifted on his heels, throwing his hands up as if saying ‘what can i say?’ “p thinks you’re pregnant now.”
you gasped. “lando!”
“i mean…hopefully.” he winked as you fiddled with the jewelry, still not bothering to take off the ring from your finger.
“well…” you brought a finger to your lips, thinking, “we have to be certain, don’t we?”
lando was catching your drift as you walked backwards towards the entrance of the hotel, luring him in with your charisma. “perhaps…”
“so…we need to try again.” he wasn’t going to argue with that. “and again.” or that. “and again, for good measure.”
“you’re gonna kill me, baby.” he whined, chasing you up the steps. you squealed, running forward. inside the elevator you two went, clicking the floor for your room.
after further inspection, lando’s brows furrowed after he glanced over you. “what?”
he covered his mouth to shield his devious smile.
“what, lando?”
he coughed to hide his amusement, but it was a very bad act. “you’re…”
“what?”
“you’re dripping.”
you looked down at your thighs and saw the glistening reflection of his cum seeping out of you. fuck. maybe the first time was the charm, but you hoped it wasn’t.
you really hoped it wasn’t.
tags ; @landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch
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RE: Ortho (+Shroudcest) post replies
Phew, alright, I think I didn’t skip anyone. If I did, I’m sorry, I’ll reply to you next time then!
Thank you so much for your wonderful messages of support and for your takes. I really appreciate it! I say it all the time but it saying it again feels appropriate: we had no idea we would ever see so many people who share our point of view despite not shipping Ortho with Idia or any other character. The fact that we can have this conversation really makes me happy.
You are welcome to share more of your thoughts if you want, but unfortunately I might not be able to reply to everyone. I will do my best though.
All of the asks in this blog are related to this post.
Anonymous asked:
Different anon, I think Ortho is in this nebulous situation like superboy in young justice who is physically 16 years old but chronologically 16 weeks old. I genuinely hate the uwu babying of characters. The dwarfs are all second years(so theoretically 17 at the youngest) but no one makes anything with them. Heck the characters I see get lewded the most are the octo trio who are the same age.
Heck, even Grim gets the baby mascot treatment by fans when he's also lumpedwiththefirst years. Like yes, he's a whiny brat but he's also grown up all alone as far as he can remember. I can't help but compare him to Puppycat who acts similarly and is a grown ass man.
Yeah, this probably plays a role too! Ironically, we were just having this conversation about Stitch the other day lol Being new to the world you exist in (and to existing in general) and being a baby aren’t necessarily the same thing.
And even in that case Ortho doesn’t fully fit into the trope because he was created quite a while ago and is already pretty well adjusted. But since he is still learning and doesn’t always understand people + doesn’t always get things like sarcasm, people consider it to be a proof that he is a toddler lol Who am I kidding, their reasoning doesn’t even go that far. They say “he died when he was a baby therefore he is a baby forever” and call it a day.
I feel bad for people who love Grim, I haven’t even thought about it… The Puppycat comparison is so spot-on lol
Grim is inexperienced and doesn’t know much about the world, but yes, he is one of the freshmen + just as he at times acts like a whiny brat, there are also times when he tells Ace that he should be more considerate of Deuce’s feelings, like wtf was that? That was Grim. Because Grim also isn’t a baby, he is a furry gremlin…
Anonymous asked:
As one of the most avid Ortho stans, it really is a pet peeve that people act like he's a little kid
You're so right that it's people that want to write him like Idia's little convenient plot device
I do want to note that it's also sometimes just the infantilization of an autistic coded character
God forbid he be somewhat optimistic, this must mean he's just an innocent baby /s
One small thing that gets me: Ortho can and has made his own gears!! Idia doesn't need to and maybe this is inspired by a post I saw that used the fact that Idia has made his stuff to take away Ortho's agency in what is supposed to be him having a tattoo analog. Not having a character be the architect of their own body mod equivalent is wild and I just.
He's a silly little guy, but he's not a fucking baby!
Indeed, Anon. I feel like people either completely ignore Ortho or see him as Idia’s appendix. I absolutely love them together, and of course I am biased towards scenarios that focus on their deep codependence, but I also really love how they get to have their own adventures, their own relationship, their own experiences separate from each other. Because they are wow, different characters, and Ortho has his own agency. He had it even before ch6, but after that he fully and officially became his own person. Being with Idia is his choice, not his only option. And just like you mentioned, he makes his own gears pretty much all the time now… even though I don’t agree that Idia making his gears has anything to do with Ortho’s agency.
I don’t even think Ortho is that optimistic. He is a little sunshine, but not even close to people like Kalim for example. Ortho even has his own cynical moments and douchy moments that people also tend to ignore. But even if he was 100% optimistic and naïve, it still would not be a valid reason to infantilise him. And you are absolutely right, people do that a lot. With Kalim too, actually, now that I think about it.
Anonymous asked:
Aaaaah, Ryuichi, after reading your post (rant) about Ortho, made me very happy! I'm glad there's someone else who shares the same opinion. The number of fans who infantilizes Ortho is beyond me. I absolutely hate the argument Ortho's mentally "8 years old" it's like they completely forget his storyline.
I'm guessing that the people who genuinely believe the theory that he's "8 years old" are younger fans with no media literacy so no hate towards them but it's frustrating when fans pretend it's Canon when it's not.
Not only that but it’s so sad to see how he's also so mischaracterized by the fandom. He's always seen just as Idia's little brother but never himself despite the fact that Ortho's life doesn't revolve around Idia. He has his own interest and hobbies different from Idia AND he is NOT innocent! Fans tend to forget this is a game about a school full of villains and that includes Ortho too! If I remember correctly Ortho has multiple times tried to blow up the school with his laser! He's violent! He's not a kid.
Unfortunately, I've seen this kind of stuff happening across all fandoms this isn't exclusive to Twisted wonderland. Heck a few months ago I've seen fans in the black butler genuinely believe that Ciel's in fact 9 years old instead of 13 year old!? And then they call us weird? The SebaCiel shippers? Like why do YOU want him to be younger?? I'm getting too old for this.
Thank you so much, Anon! I am happy you also agree.
I don’t hate younger fans, and I know that some people might be genuinely confused; but I also believe that there are a lot of people that simply do not care about Ortho’s actual story and any arguments one could make about this case. The actual issue isn’t Ortho being a certain age, it’s a pretext, an excuse, an invitation to harass. If Ortho didn’t exist, they would still do it with other characters, and even if all the characters were adults, they would still find a reason to do so, like, for example, their appearance. There is no winning in this game, this is why factual arguments won’t work even if Ortho Shroud himself looks in the camera and says “hi, I don’t care if people ship me with my niisan, I am also in fact not 8 years old”.
I am also very glad you mentioned Ortho being his own person! I mentioned it in a previous reply, so I won’t talk about it, but yes, you are absolutely right. Ortho is a menace, and all of his disappointed “come ooon, niisan, don’t do that” moments come from his desire for Idia to have more friends, not because he genuinely cares for other people. He clearly doesn’t – hence his multiple attempts to blow up the school lol
I love it when characters just keep getting younger with every single wave of this shitstorm. Didn’t you know he is 13? How dare you post something like that about a 9 years old! He is a toddler who is only 3 months old! That’s one powerful fountain of youth right there. Antis in Kuroshitsuji fandom do that a lot, just as antis in TWST fandom.
Anonymous asked:
I really feel bad for people who have Ortho as their oshi. It's not like fans of other characters don't get shit on too, apparently pretty much everyone is an immoral heathen these days, but I feel like Ortho gets often excluded in fan content, especially when it features any mature theme.
Also, if you a problem with people liking Ortho in the same way as they do with the rest of the guys, you should take your issues to the creators, since that was definitely their intention when they put him in the pretty boy gacha. Or maybe just play another game.
Anyway Ryu and Katsu, keep doing your thing, cause you guys are awesome!
What I love about it is that Ortho himself would be so pissed if he learned that all the other guys get to do fun mature stuff and he doesn’t lol That’s so not fair, he’s charging his lasers as we speak!
Also yes, it was absolutely the creators’ intention. He is supposed to look like that, just like Lilia is supposed to look like that – both caused confusion in the game story with how young they look, and yet both are a big part of the cast (+ As we know, even Idia was supposed to be younger looking…). Ortho has one of the biggest amounts of cards, he is clearly a popular character, not just a lovely addition or a mascot.
Thank you so much for your support, Anon <3 It means a lot. This shit might be upsetting, but it will never stop us from creating.
Anonymous asked:
While I am not an Ortho/Idia shipper, I do like your art pieces because your art style is straight-up gorgeous. So when I do see your Shroudcest art Im like: not my cup of tea but I respect the time and effort made into this. (And here is my rant siding with you bc they are fictional characters)
The babyfication of Ortho is something I do not understand. As much as Idia made RoBro in trauma, rn I doubt he wants RoBro to remain stagnant in mind and hardware. With Ortho's ability to learn, he is practically a teenager like the rest. He displays more emotional maturity than most ppl despite his killer laser beam. Kindness, hope, and optimism are traits not limited to children. Shortness is also not limited to children. If we treat other characters by traits often shared by children, then Neige's fellow dwarf classmates are also children. What they don't count bc they are not human? Ortho is not human either. Similarly, Kalim and Silver display positive internal traits of kindness, hope, and optimism. Shortness? Well, we got Grandpa Lilia and the Napoleon complex twins Riddle and Epel. They are all teenagers (minus Lilia) and no one is babying them.
...And are we ignoring all the shit he has seen on the internet. The amount of porn (from adult sites and even the soft-core types you can even find by watching some twitch/yt streamers) that can be seen. Videos of violence, crimes, and ppl doing their best to win the Darwainism Award. Ortho could access and go through like 5 terebytes by the time I reach page two of Google.
As for the Shroudcest, they are fictional characters! You can go straight to phub and have incest type (the sheer amount of the step family porn troupe) porn being acted out by actual breathing people. Do you want to metaphorically die on this hill of ppl shipping fictional 2D characters? Are we just going to ignore you targeting this harmless ship? At least go for a larger target like Game of Thrones or House of Dragons. So much incest in those media that it has it's own fan wiki page, but you don't see ppl go for George R. R. Martin's throat for writing about characters willing or unknowingly committing incest.
It is like people reading/watching media of horror movie killers. It's something you can enjoy or have a preference for because you, as a sane person, will not become a serial killer. AND, as a productive member of society, you condemn actual, real-life serial killers. You read horror stories or watch scary movies for entertainment value not for a guide to be one. Similar logic to furries. Furries consider anthropomorphic creatures as hot, but those same furries are against beastilaity.
TL;DR: While I am not personally a fan of incest or shota type of media, I do not mind they exist (or go after creators who use FICTIONALLY characters to enhance their form of FICTIONAL media), bc they are FICTIONAL CHARACTERS from a FICTIONAL MEDIA. Stop with the performative activism. Use that effort and go after people who do it for real in real life. If you prevent/stop an actual crime from happening, I will applaud and thank you! AND I DOUBT I WILL BE THE ONLY ONE.
Thank you so much, Anon! I am happy that you like my stuff despite not shipping some of our ships. I am very grateful for the respect, and also for your message! I really like your points and I’ll go through them briefly.
The entire part about all those traits not being exclusive to children + about other characters having those traits but still not being babied – YES, thank you so much for that. Like I already mentioned, the game clearly plays with those tropes, and even though the characters are young-looking, they are still of high school age (other than Lilia). Ortho is weird, Ortho is different from some of the other boys, but all of them are weird in their own way, Ortho is just a robot. If we can make “not a human” excuse for the dwarves, why can’t we look at Ortho that way? And yes, Ortho absolutely knows stuff a kid wouldn’t be able to digest lol All of his difficulties come from him being an AI – he doesn’t always get sarcasm, he doesn’t fully understand why people do certain things and doesn’t understand some limitations of human’s body and mind; none of it is tied to him being childish or too innocent.
Incest in media is very popular indeed, and it’s SUPER popular in porn! You are right. If any kind of media ends up “normalising” this kind of relationship, it definitely won’t be shippers of incest. But also that won’t happen because wow, it doesn’t work that way. People love to say that fiction affects reality, and while in a way it does, it’s never a “everyone is going to start shooting people because the videogames brainwashed them” type of deal, and this is exactly what they’re doing with their arguments. It’s fear-mongering, moralism and ignoring the fact that people do in fact know how to separate fiction from reality. And the key to making sure no one is going to jump out the window because their favourite character did so isn’t in censorship, but in people learning this difference and always keeping in it mind. Ironically, that would mean that people who harass others over cartoons can’t make this separation very well because of their lack of critical consumption of media; but then again, they can’t even see (and don’t care, which makes it worse and my point stronger) how their own reckless actions seriously affect real people in real life, and I think this is a more important issue to resolve lol
Unfortunately, people who prefer performative activism very rarely end up becoming real activists, but I do hope that they will at least find some other hobby, something that doesn’t cause so much harm to both innocent people and the cause they claim to be fighting for.
I got a bit carried away there, but yeah, I totally agree with your point, and once again grateful for your understanding. There will always be media that makes you uncomfortable – and that’s the beauty of it. Creativity is a boundless ocean and no amount of bricks can contain it.
Anonymous asked:
I was just scrolling through and saw your explanation of ortho and shroudcest the other day. As tiring as I’m sure it is, it always gives me hope to see people who remember what shipping is really about. I mean problematic content has existed all through human mythos and history, and society still survives! According to the studies the “art morality” argument is roughly the same as “but da violent games!!” Argument, or metal music, or clothes, or any other form of media deemed ‘new’ or ‘too different’.
Anyway, I don’t ship cest stuff myself but your art is lovely and it’s become one of the things I can view without feeling uncomfy despite how my head usually responds to such content (woohoo free therapy??? /j)
I ship ortho with an OC who’s also 16. Said oc’s mother said she would never treat her child differently for who they choose to love, and while she definitely wasn’t expecting a robot, she’s not going back on her word.
Thank you so much, Anon!! YES, this is exactly what shipping is all about! It feels like “umm but they’re not even canon” type of people are suddenly the majority in fandom spaces ahhh lol
As long as art exists, there will always be people who are against it, especially if it’s something niche, and despite how popular fandoms are, all of the fandom activity is a niche, ESPECIALLY shipping, ESPECIALLY this kind of shipping. So unfortunately it’s unavoidable, but it’s so useless and annoying!
I am very happy that you like our stuff. Thank you for enjoying it. Your OC’s mother is amazing and very supportive lol I am sure she and Ortho will get along swimmingly.
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Joel Miller x f!reader
Rating: E (age gap)
Summary: Best friends with younger one, you’ve known the Miller brothers since forever — you’ve wanted the older one for just as long.
a/n: it’s been a while! I’ve been writing over on Ao3, but thought I would pop in and say hi and happy summer ❤️ enjoy!
—
Glancing at the clock on the wall, you wonder how much longer you need to stay before it’s appropriate to leave.
You can’t even remember the name of the person who's talking at you – someone who said they took calc with you or something, back in high school. Brian, maybe? Ben? Picking at the label on the bottle in your hand, you tip the last swallow of warm beer into your mouth, grimacing at the taste.
“Gimme a second,” you interrupt him. “I’ll be right back.”
Not a fuckin’ chance , you think to yourself.
Navigating through the crowd of people packed into the Miller’s living room, you make your way towards the kitchen. Needing another beer to get through it all, you head straight for the fridge – only to see someone already there, their broad back facing you. When they straighten and shut the door, you reach out and pluck the beer from their hand.
“Thanks for the beer, Miller.”
Joel huffs, grabbing another one from the fridge. Turning to face you, he leans his hip against the counter.
“You even old enough to drink?” Twisting the cap off, he takes a long, slow drink, his throat working with the motion.
You roll your eyes, and his eyes drift down your body and back up again.
Playing it cool, you clink your bottle against his.
“Cheers, old man.”
His eyes narrow, and he waits a beat before tipping the bottle against his lips.
His face has been a fixture in your life for as long as you’ve known Tommy – a kid you met back in elementary school. Tommy was a few years older than you, Joel even older than him. The fact that you were younger never bothered Tommy – you were just as daring as any boy his age, and he was more fun than any girl your own. A fixture by his side more often than not, you’d stuck together through middle school and then high school, through boyfriends and girlfriends, through Tommy’s enlistment after senior year.
The entire time, Joel was there.
In the beginning, you never paid him any attention. Busy working since he could, you barely saw him. The couple times you did see him at parties, it was only as Tommy’s ride, or showing up when Tommy got in trouble with his mouth. Like he never had any patience for parties or stuff like that; an aged man since forever. Even at their house, Joel had been…around, but he never stuck around for long. Always drifting away to go hang out in the garage, or in his room.
It was during high school when you started looking at him differently. Started paying attention to him in a way you never did before. Starting noticing things like he never had a girl around – or at least one that stuck , though you knew he knew his way around them, because you saw him in town sometimes.
Walking out of a liquor store with a brown bag, a girl sitting in the passenger seat of his truck.
Pulling open the door of the bar, his hand on the small of another girl’s back.
Once, you saw him at the movie theater you worked at senior year. You still remember the heat that flooded your face when he strolled up to the ticket booth where you were standing, the broad smile he had on his face for his date, one that turned your insides warm. His arm was looped around her back, his hand resting on her ass with casual confidence.
You’d never been so jealous of someone in your life.
You left him behind (not that he ever knew it) when you went away to college. A visit back home after your first year timed with a visit home from Tommy, Joel is right where you left him, still on the fringes. Only at the party to keep an eye on things, to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand, still keeping to himself. He’s been upstairs all night, only coming down every so often for another beer.
The mystery of how he spent his time used to consume you back in your school-kid crush days…and it comes back full force, when he leaves you in the kitchen to go back up to his room.
Leaving the noise of the party behind you, you climb the worn carpeted stairs. The second floor of their house is off limits to party guests, but you also know that doesn’t apply to you. Having been to this house more times than you can count, you know right where Joel’s bedroom is. You’ve never been in it though, which is part of the pull that drives you towards it – along with a slice of light that breaks through where he’s left the door cracked.
You nudge it open with your knuckle, to find him sitting inside.
At a desk chair, his legs spread wide in his slouch. A beer rests in his hand, the other one holding a book and at your presence, he puts the book face down in his lap.
He frowns. “Everything okay down there?”
“Yea. Just thought I’d come up and say hi. See what you’re doing.”
“Said hi in the kitchen,” he teases. He lifts the book with one hand. “And I was readin’.”
Used to his gruff sarcasm, you ignore it. “Any good?”
His eyes follow you as you walk further into the room, sitting down on the edge of his bed.
“Not really,” he answers. “Just waitin’ for everyone to leave.”
You know that’s not going to happen any time soon; another large group of people had walked in just as you made your way upstairs.
A golden hue washes over everything, a single lamp burning on the desk, the colors of everything else dulled in the dim light. Shadows pool in the corners of the room, but he is lit, though only parts of him: the chestnut ends of his curls, his tanned skin, the stretch of his jeans across his thighs. The bed you sit on has a rumpled comforter, clearly having been slept in.
Arousal pools low and heady between your hips.
Has he ever brought another girl up here? Has he fucked anyone in this bed?
You imagine it briefly: his flushed cheeks, his heavy breathing, his muscles shifting under his skin. Your hand trembles, and you grip your beer tighter.
“Already sick of bein’ downstairs?” he asks.
You thumb at the condensation gathered on the bottle, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Yea. Sort of. It’s always a little awkward when you come back, you know?”
He shakes his head. “Not really. Never been anywhere but here.”
Your shoulders slump, and you let out a sigh. “Right. But you know what I mean.”
Suddenly, the weight of exhaustion pulls at you: the smiles you had to force downstairs, the names you tried to recall, the crush of people and the fake enthusiasm. You came here for Tommy, and you’ve barely seen him tonight. Forgetting for a second that you’re not in Tommy’s bedroom, you relax and let yourself fall backwards on Joel’s bed. The second you do it, you freeze – but don’t correct it.
You’re in Joel Miller’s bed. Lying down.
You feel the hem of your shirt ride up, but don’t fix it. The sheets smell like him, and you hear him huff.
You also feel the weight of his eyes on you.
–
He should be more annoyed that you’re in his bedroom, but he can’t take his eyes off your legs: a mile long in your cutoffs, the slight peek at the curve of your ass in their ride high. The slice of soft skin he can see, between your waistband and your shirt.
He watches you roll over and prop your head up on your hand, not liking at all how good you look in his bed.
He’s been watching you since you came back. Watched you even before that, though he’d never admit it. Walking around their backyard in a tiny bikini when you lounge with Tommy by the pool, looking gorgeous as hell all windblown and carefree sitting in the passenger seat of Tommy’s truck, looking so fucking innocent and beautiful swamped in one of Tommy’s sweaters by the bonfires he’s been having at night since he came back.
The sight of your ass in those shorts as you walk around their house has been imprinted on his mind all week.
He sits up, clearing his throat. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he lets his head hang down between his shoulders. If he can avoid looking at you, maybe his cock will stop hardening with interest.
“I think you better get back downstairs.”
“I just wanna catch up,” you reply innocently, looking anything but.
He looks up, giving you a knowing look in reprimand. “That ain’t all you wanna do.”
He doesn’t know what compelled him to say that to you , but he does know it to be true. He’s seen the look on your face on plenty of women before – women . You’re a girl . One he’s known since forever. One he never thought about until he did, and one he tried not to think about once he started.
One who is way too fucking young for the things he’s thought about doing to you.
“No?” you ask. “Why don’t you tell me what you think I wanna do?”
He shakes his head instead.
The edges of your mouth curl up in a soft, teasing smile. “Joel Miller, a secret prude.”
His head snaps up, “I ain’t no prude, honey, you’re just –”
“Honey?” Your eyebrows lift, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just what?”
“ Young. Too young.”
“I’m twenty.”
He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes and you cave.
“Almost. In a few months.”
He huffs in disgust, dropping his head back down. “Jesus Christ. A baby.”
He feels you study him for a moment.
“I missed you while I was gone, you know.”
The confession surprises him, and he looks up to find your face completely sober, truthful.
“Did you miss me?” you ask quietly.
The vulnerability on your face pulls at him, and even though he knows what will happen if he gets on that bed, he wants to. If only to tuck you against his chest and reassure you that he did. He really did. He knows you think he never noticed you, but that’s only because he made you feel that way. He couldn’t notice you, for both your sakes.
“Just come…sit with me, okay?” you ask. “I’m not gonna bite.”
He doesn’t move for a moment, keeping his eyes on the floor. He feels you wait with bated breath, knowing full well that he should stand up and walk you out of his bedroom…but he can’t bring himself to leave you hanging like that.
Instead, he stands, and walks over to the bed.
Your face flashes with surprise that you try to hide, and he smirks.
There is a look on your face he’s seen a million times — a bolstering sort of lift to your chin, the look of a tough girl that would follow his brother anywhere. A girl who never backed down, even when he could tell she was nervous.
A girl he knows he shouldn’t want, but does anyway.
He tests the waters, crawling onto his bed. Stretching out next to you, he sprawls across the mattress, his broad form partially covering yours in shadow. He can feel the heat gather between your bodies. You look even younger close up, and he leans closer, unable to stop himself from pushing to see how far you’ll go.
He recognizes that same determined look on your face now, only this one is slightly different. This one is laced with lust, and want. So much fucking want it makes him ache.
“Okay, big girl,” he drawls. “Now what?”
–
It’s his turn to be surprised when you lean in and press your mouth to his.
You can tell because he momentarily freezes when your lips meet, his stubble brushing against your skin, your lips fitting neatly along the seam of his own. You kiss him again, this time opening your mouth just enough to let him in and he takes your invitation, the taste of beer thick on his tongue when he slides it against yours. His hand comes up, cradling the curve of your jaw as you tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss and a soft sound that catches in the back of your throat has his fingers flexing, pulling you closer.
The sheets rustle beneath you when he takes over, his hold guiding you beneath him on the bed. He kisses you harder, longer, a deep groan rumbling from his chest, the light of the room blocked out behind him. His solid body weighs heavy on top of you, his denim clad hips pushing between your thighs with a grind and you open your legs wider, his hand sliding up the outside of your leg to hitch your knee around his hip.
It’s sensory overload after wanting him for so long. You’ve daydreamed about this a million times, imagined it happening a million different ways, but you never thought it would be anything like this. Lost in the weighted haze of lust, drunk on the way he feels against you, head swimming with arousal, the crotch of your panties already so fucking wet that they slide over your achingly empty core with every rock of his hips into yours. Meeting the rolling grind of his hips with your own, you feel the weight of his cock press against you, his calloused hand covering your breast with a squeeze. His hips rock forward again, the grinding promise of what he’s capable of against the damp seam of your shorts and you are just about to beg him for more when he pulls back, standing.
In one long stride, he shoves the door shut and locks it.
Tugging his shirt off with a one handed grip over his head, you take in the sight of his broad, solid chest and the dusting of hair that scatters sparsely just under his collarbones. It’s thicker along his sternum, even thicker still just under his navel, where it leads into the waistband of his jeans. He looks so…big, from where you lay on the bed. Older, masculine in a way you’ve never seen on a boy your age. Your eyes run the length of his body and back up again, the outline of his thick cock pushing against the fly of his jeans making your cunt flutter.
He opens the drawer next to his bed, tossing a condom down and there is something so arousing about the matter of fact action, the implied sight of it just sitting there, waiting for him. Black, with gold letters. When his hands drop to work open his belt buckle with single minded intent, you reach down to slide your shorts off.
“Don’t.”
Your hands pause.
“I wanna do that.”
You don’t even know what to say in response before he’s bending to grab you behind your knees, hauling you to the edge of the bed. Your shirt rides up your back, and sit up enough to tear it over your head, your bra following shortly after as his greedy eyes track every movement. His thick fingers pop open the button on your shorts, hooking under the fabric and he drags them down and off, bringing your panties along with them.
Then he stands there, his hands on your knees. He pushes them apart, and you try not to squirm as he spreads you for him.
“Goddamn.” The word pours out of his mouth, saturated with awe, low with lust.
Your thighs flinch, your knees trying to pull together to hide yourself from the heat of his gaze, but he keeps a firm grasp on them, holding you open.
“Don’t try to hide it from me now, honey.”
His eyes drop from your face to the gleaming spread of your cunt. He reaches down, his thumb brushing over your opening, and it’s so fucking filthy the way he drags it through the mess you’ve made for him.
“Especially not when it’s this pretty,” he murmurs.
He drops to his knees, your breath hitching when he tugs you closer to his mouth and guiding your legs over his bare shoulders, his mouth immediately seeks you out.
“ Fuck .”
The word slides into a moan when your body bows off the bed to chase the slick heat of his tongue. It smears wetness over everything, dipping inside you to drag upwards to your clit and then he’s fitting the bottom half of his face along your cunt with a messy, open mouthed kiss.
He devours you there the same way he devoured your mouth earlier, and the sensation is simultaneously too much but not enough, your hands finding purchase in his sheets. You fist them, twisting them in your grip as you start to rock your hips and you have never - never - had this done to you before, a tremble pouring sweet and thick down your spine to pool right under his mouth.
His hands keep your thighs forced open, his shoulders spreading you wider and when his tongue starts to swirl firm, tight circles over your clit, it drags a hoarse moan out of your throat.
Too consumed to care if you’re being too loud, every thought leaves your head when two thick fingers stroke delicately along the dip of your opening, before sliding inside you with a filling stretch just as he starts to suck . His whiskered cheeks hollow with it, your words breathless and pleading. A stretch just to take his fingers , you close your eyes and feel your stomach drop when you think about taking his cock.
The thought alone sends you flying over the edge.
When it happens, he groans into you just as loud as if he’s the one who’s come, and a second wave washes hot over your limbs when you peek down to see the upper half of his face between your spread thighs. His brows pinched together, his eyes closed tight, his white knuckled hold on your thighs.
The music turns up louder downstairs, a shout of a crowd greeting new arrivals – but it’s lost in the intimacy of the bedroom. His satisfied low groans, your trembling thighs, his damp beard against your skin.
Pulling back, he wipes your slick from his face with his hand – and then gives your cunt a sharp, flat swat.
The action shocks you, your eyes widening and the grin on his face is charmingly boyish. Or would be, if he didn’t follow it with a filthy suck of the fingers that were just inside you. He stands, shucking his jeans and briefs off in one movement, and puts a knee on the bed between your legs, reaching for the condom. His large hands rip it open, and though you can feel his gaze rest heavily on you as he puts it on, your eyes are fixed firmly on his cock.
It’s – big. Much bigger than you’ve ever seen, a grown man’s dick. He fists it lazily for a moment, the weight of it evident in his grip and when he places the condom over the tip and rolls it down to the base, you openly stare. The translucent rubber fits snug and tight, down to the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.
When you finally drag your eyes up to his face, he looks smug.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. It’ll fit.”
The amount of times you’ve thought about this moment is nothing compared to the real thing. The man standing in front of you has always been off limits, a complete mystery to you all these years, even as the subject of most of your debased fantasies. The realness of him — the solid width of his frame, the flush to his skin, the amount of bare, firm skin on display. You swallow hard, a bundle of nervous anticipation even though he just fucked you with his mouth.
He settles his body on top of you, caging you underneath him and the press of his hot skin has all of your nerves scattering, evaporating into need .
His mouth rests right next to your ear, a kiss brushed against the divot below it.
“We’ll make it,” he whispers.
If you thought his fingers were a snug fit, it’s nothingcompared to how full you feel as he slides in. The stretch almost to the point of pain save for how wet he got you beforehand, it still steals the air from your lungs as he pushes inside. You squirm underneath him, shifting to accommodate every single inch and his hand curls around your waist, his hips pushing forward with a final, hard thrust.
His mouth brushes tenderly along your clenched jaw, letting you get used to it before his hips find a rolling rhythm. Every downstroke shoving you up underneath his hold, you hold on tight, hitching your knees up along his ribs and your feet slide over his tailbone, a whine crawling out of your outstretched throat.
“This little pussy is so tight ,” he groans, his hot breath gusting over your skin. “So fucking tight.”
His hand shoves itself under your tailbone, angling your hips to take him deeper and his own groan sounds deep over your softer, higher one.
“Do you have any idea how much I thought about fuckin’ you? How many different ways I’ve wanted to?”
Hearing him utter those words makes your chest crack open, your heart thundering underneath your rib cage. Everything you’ve ever wanted to hear, paired with more than you ever thought you would.
He picks up pace, his hips a relentless, heavy pound into the cradle of your own, each thrust punching the air out of you – and your fingers claw into his forearms when he sits back on his heels, pushing your knees to your chest to fuck you harder.
The bed pounds lewdly against the wall, the music from the party covering it up.
“Joel,” you whine, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. It feels like you’re being used by him, your body a tool for his own pleasure, your pliant, moldable body being positioned just for his use. It sends you higher, thinking about him doing the same for others, right here in this bed.
You start to tense underneath him, the wave of slick, brutal pleasure pulling you under and when you come, it’s a wordless, breathless thing – your body pulling taut, your cunt squeezing him tight. He groans, dropping forward to cover your mouth with his, his hand sliding up to wrap around the nape of your neck with a grip and he forces himself deeper, his strokes urgent in their snap against you.
He rests his forehead against yours, and through the haze of your freshly fucked gaze, he recognizes the same look from before. A girl who never backs down, a girl who knows how to hold her own.
“I already want it again, Joel,” you breathe against his mouth, his heavy pants washing over your lips. “Next time, I’m gonna ride you. I’m gonna sit on your lap and you can watch me take it, okay?”
“Fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering. They chase the slick warmth of your cunt, his eyes closing tight.
“You’re fuckin’ trouble, you know that?” he rasps, his fingers threading into the hair at your nape, fisting it with a tug. The motion tips your head back for him, a victorious grin stretching across your face.
“A pain in my ass since I met you,” he pants, letting out a deep groan. “A sweet piece of ass in my bed.”
You nod, the smile on your face melting into something pleasure soaked when he shifts the angle of his hips.
“I’m gonna come inside this little cunt, okay? And then I’m gonna do it all over again. You ready, honey?”
“God yes.”
He buries his face in the damp crook of your neck when he comes, he back rounding as his hips still in their push against yours. He’s so deep you know you’re going to feel it tomorrow – more than you’ve ever taken, a stretch you know will make you ache every time you sit down. He holds onto you so tight that you can barely breathe, and it’s a special sort of heaven to be buried underneath the bulk of his body. Your cheek pressed against his curls, your chest compressed under his. Your hips sore from being spread so wide, your cunt still snug around him.
He lifts just enough to see you, and opens his mouth – right when something crashes beneath his room.
“What the fuck , Tommy,” he grumbles, and you laugh at his instant change of expression. He slips out from inside you with a groan, his hips imperceptibly shifting forward to chase the heat between your thighs. He presses a quick, hard kiss against your lips and then he’s dragging himself from the bed, tugging the condom off and tying it in a neat knot.
Tossing it in the trash next to his bed, he grabs his jeans off the floor.
“I’m gonna go downstairs and see what the hell that was,” he says, sliding them up over his bare ass. Buttoning them, he shoots you a look. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ get dressed.”
You gesture a wordless salute, and he shakes his head, smiling.
“Smartass,” he grumbles, picking a shirt up off the floor. Sliding it over his head, he opens the door and disappears.
“Tommy!”
You hear him shout and a laugh bubbles up from your chest.
“What the fuck was that?”
Stretching out, you slide against the warm, rumpled sheets and listen to the familiar sound of their deep voices. For the first time since you’ve been back, you feel like you’re home.
Pressing your face into his pillow, you take a deep breath – and grin.
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