#without the stupid helmet

[loz-furbies]

Linktober 2023 #4: Sage

The ancient sage of lightning

[savanir]

The Consequences

The comforting ticking of clocks fills the air, Danny cannot help himself but look at the many gigantic gears working in tandem each time that he pays Clockwork’s tower a visit.

“Alright, I’m here” Danny waves the green post it note around.

“Good,” Clockwork appears and gestures to an open door, “there is something I wish to show you, come”

Danny follows Clockwork into the room that appears to be an infinitely stretching hallway both left and right from him with the two of them in what he must assume must be the middle.

The young ghost takes a moment to process this and comes to the conclusion that this is just typical Infinite Realms ghost bullshit because clearly, logically, this is impossible.

There is a line on the hallway wall.

“Okay, what am I looking at”

“Time”

Danny takes a long deep breath of air before exaggeratingly rolling his eyes and giving Clockwork bombastic side eye, which the guy very rudely ignores.

“can you please be a little less vague Clockwork…”

the older ghost who has shifted into the appearance of a child grins at him, “very well, this line represents here, you could say it’s ‘my’ time.” a line which would sound ominous as hell if it were said by anyone other than the Ancient of Time itself.

“Did you call me here to tell me more about yourself” Danny quickly looks from Clockwork to the very important line and then quickly back to Clockwork  “is this a bonding thing, are we ghost bonding? Do you show this to all your favorite ghosts?”

“Daniel” Clockwork has shifted to his elderly form.

Danny rubs the back of his neck, "It's really cool- in a way. I kinda do feel like there is more to it though.” It’s also a little underwhelming, just a infinitely stretching dark grey stone hallway with a line on the wall, He’d expect Clockworks time to be… well… okay, so he’s got no clue what he was expecting Clockwork’s time to look like but it wasn’t this.

One thing is for sure though, Danny is no longer thinking about touching the Time Line.

“you would be correct,” Clockwork has shifted to his adult form, “let’s get back on track, the reason why I am showing you this is this discoloration over here” Clockwork gestures where to look with his staff.

“the blackish bit?”

“Correct, this is what I like to call missing time” Clockwork huffs, “I used to not mind it, but times have changed” he’s got the young king to be to worry about now.

Danny is somewhat startled while taking a closer look at the small black bit of the time line, “you’re missing time!? … please do not ask me to go find it for you”

Clockwork chuckles, “no there is no need, I know quite well where it is.” then it’s not actually missing is it?

“alright uh… I’ll just ask- What happens when you’re missing time, do you just… black out? orrrr, like, just what’s going on here”

Child Clockwork starts to explain, “During that period the Infinite Realms will move without me.”

Adult Clockwork continues, “from what I have learned of these events in the past it’s safe to say something will soon happen in this section of the realms, something big and dangerous, the tower is protected against these events- by going into a form of stasis.”

Elderly Clockwork finishes, “like I said, in the past this was of no concern of mine, the tower functions as intended, preserving me and time itself as it should, but I worry for you Daniel.”

“I’ve called you here to warn you, mayhap you could find out what this danger is, not to prevent it, but to ensure you yourself will not get hurt.” preventing it is sadly no longer possible. with the dark coloration on the wall the event happening is all but set in stone.

“can’t you look forward to see what it is? or maybe give me a hint or something?”

“sadly not, for me the time is wholly missing, in the sense that it will happen, and so in a way has already happened, which means-” Danny quickly waves his arm around to prevent Clockwork from going into a time tangent and give him a legendary headache, “-which means you will not be able to help me now, or during, or after. I understand.” the boy then sighs, “I’ll look into it I guess”

“Be careful” Clockwork says gravely in his adult form.

Danny nods, and deep in his core he can feel the unspoken please.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The young halfa really does try to figure out what might happen, what might be wrong, but it is incredibly hard when you have no clues what so ever.

Time passes, life goes on as usual- as it always does.

And then it starts.

Ripples go through the realms, an oppressive pressure building up. minor shades and blob ghosts scatter darting in every direction as long as it’s away from the perceived threat.

Not long after that there is strange crackling and rumbling, artifacts start behaving weirdly, powering up rapidly.

Walker’s prison becomes a fortress that he’s quickly losing control over locking everything and anything down tight.

Both Skulker’s and Undergrowth’s domains life grows rapidly. And although Undergrowth doesn’t mind Skulker certainly does, his jungle is his hunting playground, not the other way around! And that wouldn’t even be that much of a problem if his suit wasn’t completely on the fritz.

Desiree hides herself away deeply in her haunt, frightful of her own powers going absolutely haywire with every wish she grants, usually she enjoys the chaos- but this is rapidly getting out of hand.

Clockwork manages to catch Pariah’s keep going into its own magical automated lockdown before his tower does the same in its own way.

More and more ghosts decide to evacuate away from this corner of the realms, opting to temporarily stay somewhere else and return once whatever this mess is is over.

While all that is going on in the realms outside in the realm of the living Danny still has no clue what’s going on but his powers are freaking out more and more and he’s very glad that there are no ghost attacks because he’s not sure what will happen if he actually has to put some power in his abilities.

For now he’s simply not using them, instead deciding that while this is going on he’s just a regular living human boy with no special gifts, and you know, maybe it’ll all just blow over on its own and settle down.

So far any attempts on Team Phantom’s end to figure out what the hell is going on in the realms has led to nothing. They can obviously detect the surges of power slamming through the zone but they can’t find the origin. 

The best they have got so far is that whatever it is has something to do with leylines. a suggestion brought up by Sam after Tucker mapped out some of the ripples and Sam recognized some of the shapes from her occult witchy books.

This sadly didn’t answer much and honestly only made Danny go, “This better not be some culty bullshit then”

and Tucker hissing, “bro don’t jinx it!”

When it all comes to a head it was just a normal average school day. After hearing them all out Jazz decided that the best course of action was to lock the doors of the portal just in case, and look further into ley lines later that day.

English class had a little outing planned, the whole class went on a short trip out of the city and into the forest for a special assignment.

Mr Lancer told them to find a scenery there that would inspire them, take a picture, and then write three pieces about it of various word counts, this was to teach them about word use and what not. Just regular shit, Danny wasn’t paying that much attention.

while trudging around in the woods, trying to avoid Dash and Kwan and find something to photograph does he feel it. It’s like his entire skeleton freezes over, a thin layer of frost over his entire insides that shatters right after.

Tucker yelps, “Danny what the hell was that!?”

Danny slaps his hands over his mouth, “I think that was my ghost sense? but like insane?”

“what”

Then a small portal opens and a tiny green blur speeds out and crashes right into Danny’s chest.

Danny can’t help but catch whatever it is and he quickly identifies it as Cujo when he can take a proper look.

The poor thing is shivering and whining and abrasions on his paws quickly clue the gang in that the little dog is hurt.

“Jezus, what happened to him?” asks Sam looking worried for the little guy.

Cujo whines and burrows down Danny’s jacket and into Danny's shirt, by now the A listers as well as Valerie have noticed something weird is going on. 

once Valerie recognizes the puppy butt going down Danny’s shirt does she shout, “that vile beast! Let me at them! Don’t worry Danny I have something that will deal with that thing real fast, just stand still!”

Sam immediately jumps in front of Danny to shield him and Cujo.

“Uhm, that’s a puppy,” says Paulina derisively while Star next to her starts to coo as Cujo’s small head pops up from Danny’s neckline, snuggled in fully and clearly content to be and stay right where he is.

"Sooooo cute!” Star just wants to snuggle it, if only all ghosts were adorable little animals, then the whole ghost thing all the time wouldn’t be nearly so annoying.

“That thing is evil,” Valerie fumes.

“It’s a fucking puppy, Gray. What the hell is your damage” Paulina and Valerie viciously verbally tear into each other and Sam hates to admit it but she’s really glad for Paulina’s redirection of Val’s ire.

because she’s right, Cujo is just a puppy.

Mr. Lancer shows up noticing the commotion and increasing volume of Valerie and Paulina’s now borderline screaming match to put an end to all that.

And it’s right then, right when everyone is fully distracted that a flash happens in the distance quickly followed by a tremor through that they can feel in the ground.

Then the sound reaches them, a loud boom and right after dark clouds quickly rise up in the distance where the flash originated.

All of it happens incredibly fast but right after Mr. Lancer wastes no time to round them all up and head back to the meeting point

“Holy shit that came from Amity”

“Did the town blow up?!”

“I’m texting my parents”

"Hi? mom? Are you okay? yeah? what the fuck happened!?”

dread pools in Danny’s stomach, it grows heavier as he gets no response, it does not lift even slightly through Mr. Lancer’s general reassurances to the whole class, holding Cujo tightly to his chest helps a little, but the frantic feeling keeps surging through his body as the whole class gets into the bus to head back home.

Back in Amity it’s just chaos, police sirens, fire fighters, people out on the street, for once there are no ghost warnings blaring and it’s all the stranger for it, all the more worrying.

This isn’t a ghost attack, this is a normal explosion, and it’s so much worse because of it.

Everyone is used to ghost attacks, they aren’t used to normal explosions.

Once back in Amity things get a bit blurry for Danny, he vaguely remembers school, there was a lot of rushing of people, he vividly remembers constantly trying to contact his parents and Jazz and being incredibly worried and frustrated that they aren’t responding to anything.

He very clearly remembers that Mr. Lancer was there through all of it, when everyone else got picked up, Danny remembers both Sam and Tucker not wanting to leave him and go with their parents, but he’d… well there wasn’t really…

things stopped making sense when the police showed up specifically for him. 

After that it was all just one big dark smear.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The street is pulverized, his house and those adjacent to it are reduced to rubble.

The other buildings are badly damaged enough that the people have to be relocated until repairs are completed and they are confirmed to be safe, for the ones closest to the explosion there is a high likelihood that the structural integrity is compromised. 

They might need to be torn down as well if that’s the case.

All the windows are smashed in a very wide radius around the initial point of the explosion, overall the scene looks like… like something out of a war documentary.

Danny doesn’t get to see much of that though, he’s put in a meeting room, or office, with some things to snack on and water to drink, both untouched, and Cujo in his lap.

The basement exploded, well, the lab or even more specifically, the portal exploded. But the local authorities don’t know about all that stuff so for them right now it’s just the basement.

And seeing as there is honestly nothing left, it's very possible that they are never going to realize there was a gateway to the realm of the dead under that house in the first place.

His mom and dad are… gone, as well as Jazz, she was most likely upstairs- studying.

Danny swallows and holds Cujo closer, nobody has bothered him about the ghost dog, everyone is just treating the little guy like a regular dog, Danny would appreciate it if he wasn’t completely numb.

He’s trying very hard to just keep it all together and not start spiraling cause this is all very painfully familiar, explosion, death, they are contacting Vlad, it’s taking really long.

But from this point forward he’s going to have to do everything in his power to not slip, this is it. He can’t afford- Cause Clockwork isn’t availa- is that it? 

Is all this caused by the mess in the realms!?

Now Danny has to fight the thoughts that he should have done more, taken it more seriously, researched harder, he’d gotten an on time proper and clear warning for fucks sake! Why didn’t he- Why didn’t he-!?

But he did didn’t he? There was basically nothing to go off of, he tried really hard with the tools that he had and he had been making progress, it just wasn’t enough, he didn’t- couldn’t figure it out on time, and-

Why is it taking so damn long to contact Vlad and get this nightmare fully going he wants out of this room it’s getting suffocating!

The door opens, the nice sounding lady regretfully informs him that there seems to be more bad news, she brings it very gently and carefully, most likely trying to not re traumatize him again.

But it comes down to this, Vlad’s estate has blown up as well and nobody knows where he is, they haven’t found, ahem, him yet.

Danny swallows, that’s not how this is supposed to go.

“You think Vlad is dead?” he stammers out.

“We-” she starts clearly thinking very hard about how to word this, “Right now he’s considered missing, I’m afraid that any attempts to reach him hasn’t been answered but search and rescue-”

Danny blinks, he knows Vlad’s phone just has reception in the zone, and something as a portal explosion wouldn’t take him out, the guy should be chomping at the bit to come and get him. So he’s… incapacitated.

“-however, in the meantime the Foley’s have generously accepted to temporarily take you in, I have heard you are good friends with their son Tucker so-”

Danny perks up a little, and Cujo sleepily snuffles before settling in again, “that sounds good, as much as anything can sound good right about now”

The lady tries to hide her wince and gives him a pitying smile instead, both suck.

The next thing Danny knows he’s wrapped up in a tight hug by his best friend.

“You’ll get through this man, we’re here for you, Sam is in spirit here with us right now, if you’re very quiet you can hear her furious yelling at her parents to let her go so she can hug you too”

Danny gives him a watery laugh, “thanks, I just- fuck”

“yeah… yeah”

it’s bad, but it’s not like that time with Nasty Burger, he’s still got Sam and Tucker, Mr. Lancer too, who is certainly not stopping checking in with Danny either.

And Vlad is missing.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The zone is a mess, it’s also devoid of life, more than usual, devoid of unlife might be a better way to put it? 

Suddenly tracing the point where this mess came from is a lot easier, Sam came with the idea that the one or ones or thing or whatever that started all this probably did something to hide what they were doing.

They go past Clockworks tower, still encased in a perfect time still bubble, seeing none of the outer gears move even an inch is rather unnerving.

eventually they reach a gigantic neon green flaming crack in reality, or at least that’s what it looks like. 

with Cujo’s aid they move back into the living world somewhat to the right of the reality tear.

It turns out that on the living side of things the tear is a big erupting neon green magma spewing volcano.

By Danny’s estimates the green is ecto adjacent but feels horrible wrong.

“so this volcano was connected to the realms somehow and when it erupted…” Sam shivers, “so natural disaster?”

Tucker looks from his PDA trying to make sense of the ecto energy readings and the still spewing volcano, “there is no seismic activity here, that volcano was dead, something triggered it”

“or someone” hisses Danny, “I’ll have a closer look around as Phantom, do not hesitate to contact me if you see someone or something” 

Sam and Tucker both agree and Danny transforms and heads into the volcano.

the place is… weird, there are ruins, and some ritualistic areas, there is a huge mostly destroyed pool where new debris occasionally still falls into, causing a new explosion, Danny takes a few samples of the stuff in the pool to investigate later, cause even though it’s the same toxic green it’s clearly different from the stuff the volcano is spewing into the air.

Then he makes a quick sweep through the underground caverns and stumbles upon a sight he was not expecting.

Unconscious Vlad. Though upon closer inspection it’s revealed to Danny he’s very cold and stiff, so properly dead Vlad. 

The idea is… ridiculous.

So is that it then? Vlad found some neat new place to fuck around with shit he shouldn’t and he found out in the most explosive way possible, and now there is some manner of ecto volcano or whatever, though probably not cause it just doesn’t feel like ecto… But anyway it all exploded in Vlad’s face and he died and caused another Pariah Dark level event through the Realms and somehow managed to also kill Danny’s parents and Jazz while he was at it.

Danny lifts Vlad’s corpse up and takes him with him to Sam and Tucker. Whatever happened down there happened, but Vlad’s corpse doesn’t deserve to just be left there to rot, just like Danny’s parents and Jazz, he didn’t deserve to die (fully).

Sam and Tucker startle violently when he carefully lays his body down nearby.

“Ancients! is he-” Sam takes a hesitating step forward

“I don’t sense anything from him anymore, like, there is supposed to be something there and there just isn’t so…”

“fucking hell” Tucker wipes a head over his face, “can we- I would really like to go home now, I think I’ve gotten enough of this place”

The trio agrees and after some back and forth they have decided that Danny will put Vlad’s corpse in a not yet combed through section of his estate. Search and rescue will find his body, and then… uhhh…

“I worry about everything after that when we get there, alright?” Danny says, and that’s that.

It feels… wrong, but none of them can come up with a better plan so…

It’s not long the next day that the same nice lady contacts Danny about Vlad.

Danny was expecting that. 

What he wasn’t expecting was that eventually in that conversation a whole new bomb got dropped on him.

Because apparently Vlad has registered him as his heir, as in like heir to Dalv.co

And heir to a lot of money.

Time passes, the world is in magical chaos, the Justice League is solving it. Danny isn’t involved in any of it. 

He just had a funeral and is now looking at the graves of his parents and his sister, and a little bit over there is Vlad.

Cujo is still with him, the little guy seems to have decided that he’s just not going anywhere without Danny so he has a dog now, he’s always wanted a dog.

There is a man a respectful distance behind him, apparently that’s Vlad’s butler, his butler now, since when did Vlad have a butler? Danny cannot remember there being a butler the last time he was forced to go to Vlad’s creepy mansion.

It’s starting to rain.

“Master Daniel,” oh no, he’s going to have to put an end to that right away.

Danny turns and takes a step to the guy, “please call me Danny”

“time stop”

Danny startles as everything around him stops moving, rain drops freezing in place.

The butler in front of him now looks a lot like Clockwork.

“First I want to give you my condolences, I am very sorry for your loss Danny” Clockwork looks well and truly remorseful, he’s genuine. There is a tiny part of Danny that instantly wants to rage and scream at him about the unfairness of it all. But Clockwork cannot do anything, not this time.

“And secondly,” he changes back into the very regular human butler appearance, “I’ll be around to aid you along this new path”

Danny blinks.

oh, well, okay then.

Clockwork introduces himself as Conrad W. Kronus and makes it very clear that to everyone that matters he’s always existed. 

There will be no need to worry about any paperwork or whatever, from here on out Danny will get to stay at the other estate Vlad got in Amity so he could do his Major work more easily and he’ll get to live there with his butler and his dog.

That way he can finish school in Amity Park comfortably.

There is of course still the matter of Dalv.co to worry about but Clockwork reassures him that he doesn’t have to think about any of that just yet and to focus on grieving properly instead.

He says all that while driving them home in one of Vlad’s fancy cars, Danny didn’t think the old ghost would know how to drive at all…

It’s when they arrive and Cujo jumps out of his arms to explore his new home while Clockwork goes about his own maybe butlery duties while Danny kind of just stands in the main living room that a sudden realization comes to him.

“oh- this is… I’m like Bruce Wayne now”

[n7valkyrien]

uncharted worlds (3/3)

[cardo-de-comer]

ms paint :/ i don't have energy to draw in photoshop like normal so i just opened ms paint big brain moment and below is just some dumb memes

and absolutely cursed thing to end this post - Imri without his helmet. god knows how those curls fit under it

[elllteo]

cleanup on aisle dunmeshi

yeah the gay people were yearning again. sorry

[chaosinstigator]

anyone saying daniel is quitting needs to go outside and touch some grass fr

do you know nothing about him? did you pay any attention the last fucking what four years?? hell his whole career that man has showed he’s a fighter to the very fucking end he’s proved that time and time again ffs please give him that respect

[robingivesmemagic]

[bugisbonkerz]

i don’t like him

[xxplastic-cubexx]

idgaf the helmet is part of magneto's sex appeal. to me.

[pinimi]

so guys do we think it was jon or martin who forgot to wear a bicycle helmet and 🚴‍♂️🚗

[seenfull]

Regarding the racer guy: I love him so much and I do know a little about F1 so I could offer some ideas?

Since not all riders are the same height/weight (naturally) they add weight plates to the cars of the lighter riders to make it fair. Additionally they get weighed in before and after the race. It's also normal for them to loose a few kgs in sweat during the race especially in warmer climates.

So: how about the racer guy not being the tallest on the grid (maybe even one of the shorter guys) so he started with a decent amount of additional weight plates in his car but as the season drags on, his team can remove them one by one as he is climbing the ranks regarding his weight. Maybe his team colleague (always 2 drivers per team) starts to notice the change too and sees a chance to be the star of the team so he feeds him extra donuts whenever he can.

The race suits are usually pretty snug as well and lined with fire resistant fabric so they're not very flexible. Him growing out of them over the span of a few races is actually quite realistic.

May I also add: they usually wear team shirts around the paddock and for press conferences (excluding Lewis bcs he's extra like that) so the racer guy sitting there in too tight athletic shirts in his post-race interviews would also be realistic.

If he wins often enough you can add podium celebrations for after the races with buffets too. They usually party hard after a win (understandably).

Anyways I love your racer guy and the molded seat post was genious🤌

Thank you so much for all this info & inspo!! Around the time I made those two drawings I was doing some research so I eventually read about the weigh-ins and the weight plates and other bits and pieces of info :) though I felt like I needed some info that I couldn't get anywhere and, out of fear of getting anything wrong, I ended up not posting much about it.

Anyway... our guy would definitely be on the shorter side, would gain easily, and would absolutely get teased by the other driver of the team. He loves racing, bet he loves the rush of winning even more... too bad he gets easily distracted whenever food's involved, almost forgetting how he's supposed to be on a diet >:) thank god his good-hearted teammate is right there to remind him just how much weight he has put on since the start of the season...

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

Kal and his amazing beautiful bodyguards

[leclerc-hs]

safety first - op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader summary: in which you always had a thing for oscar in his helmet OR oscar fucks you with his helmet on.... warnings: smut smut smut, all smut, p in v, dirty talk, language, filthy, hot hot hot, thigh riding, slight degradation, NOT PROOFREAD! word count: ~1.4k author's note: hiiiii sorry if its a little too short for y'all. my brain is just like mush after this past week being so busy so this was all I could come up with at the moment! I hope y'all like it tho!!! xoxo

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

You never expected him to keep it on.

But when he walked into the room still suited up, the neon helmet covering every inch of his face, your mouth goes dry.

And you’re already lying back, thighs spread and waiting. You should be embarrassed. Should say something sassy. But he kneels at the edge of the bed, gloved hand around his cock. Hard and leaking.

And you swear your brain short circuits. 

And then he’s there.

Head tilted, pulling you up. Sits back against the headboard and shifts you until you’re straddling his thigh.

The suit is hot against your skin. A little rougher than you’d expect.

“Don’t make me say it,” He grunts.

And you whimper, grinding down against him without thinking. Slick dripping onto the fabric.

“Yeah,” He groans, head falling back, neck flushed. “Just like that.”

Your clit drags along the curve of his leg. You moan. Over and over. Until your entire body is rocking, chasing the friction.

“Y’that fuckin needy for me, aren’t you?” He teases. “Gonna come from this?”

He taps the side of his helmet with two fingers. Nods.

“Kiss it.”

“What?”

“You’re coming from it.” His hands flex around your hips. “Thank it.”

Your body clenches. And you lean forward, pressing your lips against the glossy shell.

And you keep grinding. Keep kissing. Until his hands are hauling you up, flipping you over to your back and he’s hovering over you.

His cock already pressed between your thighs when he says it.

“Say it.”

And the helmet dips closer. The Monster logo smearing across you like a brand.

His voice crackles. Voice low through the helmet, gloved hand tightening under your knee as he shoves your legs open wider. There’s a slight rasp in his tone. As if he’s fighting to stay composed.

And you’re soaked. Slick leaking out of you, smearing against him as he slowly drags his cock through your folds.

He hasn’t even fucked you yet. Not properly at least.

You gasp. “Fuck, Osc…”

“No.” He grunts. “Say it.”

You bite your lip and his hips thrust forward just a little bit. Just enough for the tip of his cock to push into your cunt. And your moan breaks out before you can stop it.

He grinds in slow. Teasing. 

The helmet visor catches the bedroom light, flashing your reflection back at you. Eyes half-lidded, jaw slack, body twitching from nothing but the way he’s holding you there.

Glossy black streaked with wild reds, greens, and blues wrapped around. And it’s all too bright for what he’s doing to you. 

The visor’s pitch black and you can’t see anything behind it. Can’t see his eyes. Can’t see his expression. Just your own ruined reflection looking back at you.

He watches you like he’s trying to memorize every twitch.

“Say what?” You whisper.

“That you’re soaking the fuckin’ sheets because I’m still in this stupid fucking helmet.”

Your back arches off the bed.

“Say it or I don’t fuck you.”

You clench around nothing. Skin burning. “I’m..fuck…Osc. I’m soaked. Because of it.”

“Because of what?” He presses on.

You whimper. Frustration bubbling up inside of you. “Because you’re still in the helmet. Because I can’t see your face and I…..I don’t care. I just need you to fuck me please.”

His groan muffles through the speaker. “That’s my girl.”

And then he pushes in. Splits you open.

Inch by inch until you’re full. Stretched around him. His cock stuffed inside of you. 

You cry out, nails digging into his skin. And he doesn’t pull back. Just stays buried inside of you, his helmet brushing your cheek.

“So fuckin’ tight. Y’love this, yeah?” 

You nod frantically. One arm clutching at the back of his fireproofs, the other gripping the pillow beside you.

“Bet if I came home like this every night, you’d drop to all fours before I even said a word.”

He pulls out halfway and then slams back into you. 

“Bet you’d let me bend you over the table in a full kit. Still suited up. Not saying a word.”

And you choke on a moan. Air knocking out of your lungs. And he doesn’t even flinch.

He’s still steady. Calm. Still in the fucking helmet.

“So sensitive,” He mutters. “I’ve barely started.”

Your nails dig into the fabric, clinging. Trembling.

“What? Just the tip and you’re melting on me like that?” He mutters. “Y'make it too easy.”

He thrusts in again. Brutal. Sharp.

And he hums, like he’s thinking.

“This thing must really fuck with your brain.” He says. “The helmet. Can’t even see me, and you’re still making those noises like some whore.”

He pulls back again. Slower. Deliberate. Your cunt tightening around nothing.

Body twitching. Aching.

And he just stays there. Tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

The silence makes you whimper. The denial makes you ache.

And Oscar…he stays completely still.

“Y’want it that bad?” His voice is lazy. Cruel in the calmest way. “God.” He lets out a sharp laugh.

You nod. Frantically. “Please…”

He clicks his tongue behind the visor.

“Y’hear that?” He mutters. “The sound your cunt makes every time I even think about shoving into you?”

You sob his name out, begging. Pleading.

“Need me to fuck you?” He grunts. “Need to be used by a helmet and a voice and my cock?”

He hisses softly at the movement of your hips. And then finally pushes back in. All the way.

He fucks into you deep. Bottoming out. 

“Fuck…listen to that,” He groans. “Can barely move. So fuckin’ tight.”

He pulls out just a bit, and then sinks back in hard. 

“That’s it,” He grunts. “Take it.”

And you do.

Mouth slack, head tipped back, clenching around him. And he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t speed up either. 

Just fucks you through it. Lazily. Like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Y’gonna come?” His voice is heavy. Hushed. “Gonna soak me from this?”

And you sob out. Nodding.

You choke on a moan. “M’gonna come, Osc….fuck..I’m gonna..”

“Yeah,” He cuts you off. “Fuckin come for me.”

And you do.

It hits hard. Convulsing around him, vision blurred, skin hot as he fucks you through it. Hips snapping harder into you. Finally losing that lazy rhythm he had.

He buries himself so deep into you that you feel everything. His orgasm hitting him only moments later. Spilling into you with low curses as his helmet rests against you. 

And he’s still buried inside of you. But he’s breathing too hard now.

“Fuck…” he mutters. “Fuck…I can’t…”

You blink up at him. Dazed.

“Need it off.” His voice is urgent.

And then he’s moving frantically with one hand. Shoving the helmet strap free. Fumbling with it.

The helmet slips to the floor with a thud. And suddenly his face is there. Flushed. Sweaty. Eyes blown wide. Desperate.

And he kisses you like he’s starving.

Tongue pushing past your lips like he couldn’t get deep enough. Fingers shaking as he threads them through your hair.

“Couldn’t breathe in there,” he mutters. Bringing his lips to your cheeks, to your jaw, your nose. “Fuck…wanted to kiss you so bad.”

You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck. Shivering. Still full. Legs wrapped around his waist.

“Y’didn’t sound like you were losing it…” You whisper.

And he lets out a breathy laugh. Wrecked. “Yeah? Felt like my brain was mush in there.”

He thrusts forward once, slow. Deep. And your body twitches.

His hips move again. Another long stroke. Not hard. Just deep. 

“Y’gonna keep me in all night, hm?” His teeth graze your jaw. “Just let me fuck into you all night?”

You lift your hips into his next thrust. Moaning.

He groans. Kisses you again. Lazily.

“Good.” He glances at the helmet for a brief second. A sinister look on his face.

His lips brush against your ear. Hot.

“Y’gonna wear it next time.” He states.

And your brows raise. “What?”

“The helmet,” He grins. Voice rough with need. “Wanna see you fall apart with that fuckin’ thing on. Wanna see you ride me.”

Your breath catches.

And he hums. Like he’s already imagining it.

“Bet you’d be all shy until I stuffed you full. Grinding down on me like some fuckin’ addict.” He teases.

And he laughs. Kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Next time, baby.” He says. Dragging his thumb against your lip. “Next time.”

taglist: @dfinchr @1-of-my-many-obsessions @saintlaurentcowgirls @hannainchains @landscar @rabittscar @ayap4paya @8junejpg1 @strawberrylov-er @olivialup @bigcatharmony @ninjambrich @skylyn-vais @Ellie-bellie-29 @s-luv183 @angelique-rose-valentine @megatrilss1885 @princesspiastri007 @ezumama @madicecream123 @ysavelelelel @margaritad1 @canyouseethesainz @marladelrey @number-0-iz @mollybxrn @saturnizma @angzedxtz (i think that's everyone that commented) xoxo

[saatorus]

— you just really have the biggest crush on your boyfriend sukuna , for some odd reason.

1.4k wc. warnings—suggestive, but mostly just fluff.

a/n. quick thing i whipped up because i can’t sleep and this is my reward for studying :3

You don’t really know how to explain it sometimes. It’ll happen at the most random of moments. You’ll just be sitting there, peacefully watching Netflix or something, bundled up on the couch in a hoodie twice your size (belongs to him), when he’ll walk in—loud footsteps stomping through your apartment like he owns the place (he kinda does), letting the door slam behind him with a grunt that barely passes as a greeting. Then he leans down, mutters something under his breath you don’t even catch, and kisses you. Softly. Briefly. Like it’s nothing.

Scratch that. Like it’s everything.

His kiss is always in direct contrast to how he acts the second you’re in the same vicinity, like he totally doesn’t want to be kissing you—except he’s always the one to do it first. Always the one seeking you out like some subconscious pull he doesn’t know how to fight.

Or when you’re doing something as mundane as washing the dishes. Lost in your little dissociative bubble, just vibing with the warm water and the clinking of plates. He comes up behind you without a sound this time, which is rare, and just stands there. And that alone has your stomach flipping.

Giddiness?

You feel like a teenager, like one of those girls in the early 2000s movies clutching their hearts as their crush walks past in slow motion. It’s stupid. You’re literally washing dishes. And he’s just standing there. But then his arms come around you from behind, thick and warm and solid, and he gruffly mutters something about how he should be doing the dishes tonight.

You don’t even know what he’s saying. You can’t process anything except his chest against your back, his chin on your shoulder, the way he exhales like being near you soothes something he’ll never admit out loud.

It happens again when he’s sitting on the couch, groaning low and frustrated at his laptop. His pink hair messy, eyebrows drawn together, mouth forming that irritated pout he always gets when he’s trying to concentrate. It happens when you walk past him, catching his eye mid-stride, and he just stares at you—blank and deadpan, but it does something to you. You grin, and the corner of his mouth quirks up before he shakes his head like you’re the ridiculous one.

It happens when your fingers brush as you pass him the salt. When his thigh, firm and warm, presses into yours while you sit side by side watching some dumb movie you’ve both seen three times already. When you hear the steady sound of his breathing in the middle of the night, and suddenly everything feels safe.

You may or may not have a tiny crush on your boyfriend.

Yes. Boyfriend.

You don’t know how it happened—he’s loud, he’s rough around the edges, he’s snarky to a fault—but you’re hopelessly, embarrassingly, irrevocably enamoured with him.

You stare at his back muscles in the mornings as he sits up, groggy and shirtless, scratching the back of his head. You trace the tattoos that stretch over his strong arms, his back, his chest. You memorise the sound of his laugh, the one he tries to cover with a cough when it’s too genuine. You still get that blooming feeling in your chest—like fireworks in reverse, soft and warm instead of loud and blinding.

The same feeling from middle school crushes, from sneaking glances in high school corridors, from scrolling through fanfiction about a character you were fixated on. The same feeling from that first motorcycle date, when he’d wordlessly handed you a helmet like he wasn’t nervous at all (he was). The same feeling as that very first kiss, the one that left you dizzy and kicking your feet like a tween.

Genuinely just a big, fat fucking crush.

And now you’re in bed with him, curled into his side, and he’s shirtless, wearing those stupid grey sweatpants that do something to your brain. His pink hair’s tousled, messier than usual, falling over his forehead in soft strands. He’s scrolling on his phone, attention half on you and half not, but you’re clinging to him anyway.

“Hello,” you say with a grin, arms wrapping around his torso as you burrow into his warmth. He smells like that stupidly expensive cologne he always wears—the one you told him made him smell “exactly what I wanted to experience when I’m ovulating,” which earned you a smirk and a very not safe for public comment.

“Fuck you mean hello? You think you’re Adele or somethin’?” he grunts, but his hand slides into your hair, fingers scratching lightly at your scalp before he leans down and kisses your cheek, hoisting you effortlessly into his lap like it’s nothing. (There it is again—the swooping, heart-flipping feeling.)

You blink at him, properly taking in his face up close. The sculpt of his jaw. The way his mouth curves naturally, even when he isn’t smiling. The faintest red tint to his irises, which always makes your heart race just a little faster. He’s beautiful in a way that shouldn’t be allowed.

“Oi. Quit starin’ at me like that, woman. ‘S fuckin’ weird,” he mutters, scowling at you, but it’s undermined by the soft way he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and gently pinches your cheek lovingly.

“Sorry,” you mumble, eyes still locked on his. “You just look really good. Do I ever tell you that? That you look really good? ‘Cause you do. All the time.”

You kiss his face lightly—nose, cheeks, jaw—pressing little pecks across his skin while he sits there suffering through it with dramatic sighs and minimal resistance.

“Christ. You’re so fuckin’ weird,” he mutters, grabbing your face with one large hand and smushing your cheeks together until your lips pucker. There’s a barely-there blush across his cheekbones that he definitely pretends doesn’t exist.

He narrows his eyes. “And for the record, you annoy the absolute shit outta me. Always goin’ on about how I look like this, how I look like that. Shut up, won’t you?”

But his thumb is skating across your lower lip again, his eyes softer than they were a second ago. No heat behind the words. Never is, really.

“Kuna,” you murmur, eyes crinkling as you press another kiss to his thumb, “I think I have a crush on you.”

He blinks. Then huffs out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah?” he says, voice rough, teasing. “Bit late for that, ain’t it?”

And then he pulls you in, arms locking around you as he leans back against the pillows and lets you bury yourself into his chest—grumbling under his breath the entire time, but never letting go.

You can’t help but smile, your cheek pressed against the ink and warmth of him.

You’ve got a crush on your boyfriend.

You’re tracing patterns on his bare chest now, fingertips ghosting over his tattoos like you’re trying to memorize the exact grooves of his skin. He exhales slowly, eyes half-lidded, arm heavy and warm across your back.

“Keep doin’ that,” he mutters, voice low and silky, “and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re tryna get somethin’ outta me.”

You blink up at him innocently, chin on his chest. “And what if I am?” you ask, trying not to grin.

He scoffs, hand dropping to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your stomach flutter. “Tch. Figures. Can’t even cuddle me without havin’ some hidden agenda.”

“It’s not hidden,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly so your lips brush against his collarbone. “I’m being very transparent.”

You feel more than hear the low growl that rumbles in his chest, like you just challenged him and he’s all too happy to rise to the occasion.

“Is that so?” he says, hand sliding a little lower now, hand gripping your ass through your lounge shorts. “You sure you’re ready to back up that pretty little mouth of yours? Or you just talk big?”

You hum, pretending to think, your lips brushing higher, close to the hollow of his throat. “Maybe I’m just desperate for attention.”

He snorts, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “No shit,” he says, but his other hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, tilting your face up to look at him properly. “Lucky for you, I got a bit of time to kill.”

And the way he says it—voice low and dangerous but playful, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement—you know exactly what he means.

“You’re sexy,” you breathe, even as your legs shift over his hips and your fingers curl around his shoulders, anchoring yourself.

“Yeah? Everything about me turns you on?,” he smirks, large hands grasping your hips to move them against his own. “Now quit starin’ at me like I’m some goddamn post on that fucking tumblr app and do somethin’ about this little crush of yours.”

You giggle, right before he pulls you in by the waist and the teasing turns into something deeper—kisses growing slower, more deliberate, his hands mapping out the shape of you like he’s committing it to memory.

Somewhere in between his lips mouthing at your neck and his hand sneaking under your shirt, cupping the warm, fullness of your breasts, he mutters against your skin:

“Still think it’s just a crush, huh?”

You can’t even answer—your thoughts are too hazy, your heart too loud.

But if this is what crushing feels like, you hope it never ends.

i lowkey feel so needy and weird before my period like it’s like ovulation but kind of worse and rn i need to suck on sukuna’s boob sorry i’m severely sleep deprived

[padawan-snack-packer]

Don't imagine Rex quietly fixing a younger clone’s armor after hours, muttering, "you gotta take better care of yourself, kid," while he polishes each scratch like it’s sacred.

Don't imagine Fives trying to teach shinies how to play cards, cheating outrageously so they win, whooping and hollering like they’re champions of the galaxy, and slipping a few credits into their pockets when no one's looking.

Don't imagine Cody staying up all night after a tough battle because he's personally stitching medals of bravery into the empty bunks of fallen troopers, so when they’re remembered, they’re remembered right.

Don't imagine Hardcase giving away his dessert rations to any clone who looks even remotely sad, acting like it’s a prank or a dare so no one knows he’s doing it out of love.

Don't imagine Echo re-learning how to shoot left-handed after his injury, stubbornly, painstakingly, so he can teach other injured clones that they’re not broken — just different.

Don't imagine Jesse carving tiny little messages into the walls of every base they’re stationed at. Messages like "501st were here. We fought. We lived." like he's trying to leave proof they mattered.

Don't imagine Dogma leaving tiny notes in people's lockers that just say "you’re doing good." "you’re brave." "I believe in you." — and then feeling too shy to admit it was him.

Don't imagine Wolffe pretending to be annoyed when Boost and Sinker sneak stray animals into the barracks, but secretly building a little hidden shelter for them behind the hangar.

Don't imagine Kix memorizing the medical charts of every single brother in his battalion — birthdays, allergies, old injuries — because he doesn’t trust the GAR systems to care enough (and he's 30000% right).

Don't imagine Tup tending to a tiny makeshift garden in the middle of a warzone with whatever seeds and scraps he can find, because "something’s gotta grow, sir."

Don't imagine Rex carrying every goodbye letters and notes he never got to say or give tucked in the seams of his armor or in a chest under his bed — every brother he couldn’t save, every friend he couldn’t reach — and still standing up the next morning because someone has to lead, and if not him, then who?

Don't imagine Waxer carrying around a crumpled, dirty drawing of Numa from Ryloth in a hidden pocket inside his armor, smoothing it out and smiling every time he feels like the war is eating him alive.

Don't imagine Boil pretending to grumble about it but secretly checking the drawing too, mouthing, "stay safe, little one," before every mission because part of his heart never left Ryloth.

Don't imagine Bly sketching little comic strips in the margins of his field reports to make Aayla laugh during debriefings — and still carrying the last one he never got to show her, tucked inside his chest plate.

Don't imagine Colt teaching his new ARC trainees how to properly tie a tourniquet and lecturing them seriously, but at the end quietly handing each of them a little lucky charm, like an old Republic credit or a braided cord, "for good luck, kid."

Don't imagine Appo still wearing a piece of Fives' blue paint on his armor as a "tradition" without telling anyone where it came from or why it matters so much.

Don't imagine Fox locking himself in his office after long shifts guarding Coruscant because he can’t stand seeing the brothers’ faces when they look at him like he’s a stranger now — so he sits in the dark and listens to the old 501st comms chatter recordings, just to feel something again.

Don't imagine Jesse and Kix starting a stupid prank war in the barracks where they replace each other's ration packs with terrible "mystery meat," laughing until Rex threatens to demote them — but Kix sneaks Rex a spiked caf packet later as revenge.

Don't imagine Tup painting tiny flowers on the inside of his helmet where no one can see them, tiny bursts of color against the cold plastoid — because he wants to carry beauty into battle even if no one else knows.

Don't imagine Dogma standing at the memorial wall and reading every single name out loud, even the ones he never knew, because he thinks someone should.

Don't imagine Waxer and Boil talking about "after the war" plans, like opening a repair shop on Ryloth, taking in lost kids, making sure no one else has to grow up the way they did — and laughing about it like it could actually happen.

Don't imagine Fives pulling a prank so chaotic that even Rex laughs — real, loud, helpless laughter — and Fives looking absolutely stunned before grinning like he'd just been handed the whole galaxy.

Don't imagine Rex tracing the scars on his hands sometimes without realizing, as if he’s trying to memorize every mistake, every battle, every time he almost didn’t make it — and then closing his fist around them like a promise to keep going.

Don't imagine Kix secretly saving every "thank you" note the boys have ever given him — crumpled sticky notes, bad handwriting, a piece of torn armor that just says "thanks doc" — tucked into his med kit like the most valuable supplies he owns.

[revvethasmythh]

long time (five days), no pics of the Prettiest Princess In All The Land (beloved durge). anyway here's hands down my favorite pic that I've taken ft. lae'zel in a funny looking helmet: