#Requested!

[katsu28]

"Squeezing their hand reassuringly and holding their hand throughout an intense social situation" for Lando if you are still taking requests! I love your writing sm!!❤️❤️

thank you so much!!!

lando norris x reader, 1.5k. request something from here!

“I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?” 

You tilt your head at Lando as he slides back into his seat across from you, curious. He looks uncharacteristically serious. “What, did your card get declined or something?” 

“That’s—uh, excuse me? No.” Lando scoffs, scrunching his nose at you at the same time as he flips you off playfully. “My card did not decline, thank you very much. I’ll say it again, good news or bad news first?” 

“Good news first, always,” You insist firmly. 

Lando sighs, propping his elbows up on the table. “Good news, you got a free meal on me again. Bad news, there's a whole crowd of cameras and fans outside the restaurant right now and no way out the back.” 

“Oh.” 

Even just thinking about having to push through the whole gaggle of paparazzi outside has an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. You know you should be used to it by now, seeing as you’ve been with Lando for a while and known him even longer, but it’s not something you go through on a regular basis. You’ve tried your very best to avoid it, really. 

Without him, nobody notices you. You can blend in with others and not have to worry about whether or not your life is being looked at through a microscope. 

With him, you feel thrust into the spotlight. Even though you know they’re not here for you, they’re here for him, it doesn’t seem like anyone cares so long as they get a picture of Lando. Of course, not all of the fans are like that, but in your experience, things can get out of hand very quickly. 

“I’m sorry, love. I know how much you hate crowds.” 

“Um, yeah, it’s alright. I can handle it.” Your voice sounds breathy, even to you, and Lando takes notice, his brow creasing in concern. 

“You sure? I can leave now and you can wait here til it all dies down. I promise I’ll circle back for you,” He offers, tilting his head. He reaches across the table to take your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. Half of you wants to play it safe and take him up on the offer. It would be easier on yourself to take that route. 

At the same time, you don’t want to hide anymore. The greater part of you feels like it's about time you mustered up the courage to embrace the very thing that makes you nervous. Lando has to do it everyday, surely you can handle it once. 

“No. We’ll leave together,” You decide, firmer this time. He smiles and stands from his seat, ever a gentleman as he helps you up from your own seat. Your previous confidence takes a rather large blow when you get to the waiting area of the restaurant and actually see just how large the crowd outside is. You stop suddenly.

“I’ve got you,” He says softly. “I won’t let go of you.” 

“Promise?” 

Lando holds out his pinky towards you in a silent promise, a pre race tradition you’ve adopted to help him settle his nerves before a race. You study his completely sincere expression for a few moments before letting out a sharp exhale through your nose, hooking your pinky around his. Both of you bring your linked hands up to your mouth, kissing the side of your fists to seal the promise. 

A silly gesture from way back in his karting days, but the significance it holds now is set in stone. 

“Okay. Okay, fuck, let’s get this over with!” His fingers slide into yours now, squeezing your hand reassuringly just for good measure. 

It feels like a full body assault on all your senses coming from all sides the moment you step outside. Flashing cameras, screaming fans, being jostled around even as Lando pushes through the crowd first to try to clear the way for you. You make the mistake of looking out into the crowd instead of keeping your head down like him, and instantly you’re blinded by a series of photos being snapped inches in front of your face. 

You can’t see a thing anymore, vision swimming with white spots no matter how much you blink to try to get rid of them. You stumble on the uneven cobblestones, and Lando’s grip on your hand tightens, his other arm slipping around your waist to steady you before you trip again. 

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” He says into your ear, holding you close. He’s the only thing keeping you from panicking, your anchor in the ocean of people as he forges on towards the car waiting at the edge of the sidewalk. “Here, step up. Yeah, that’s it, grab there. Watch your head.” 

You scramble into the backseat of the car as quickly as you can so Lando can climb in after you. The door slams shut, and all that remains is silence. No more clamoring, no more screaming, just the rumble of the car under you and the telltale lurch that you’ve started to move. 

Collapsing back against the headrest, you laugh, high pitched and disbelieving. 

“Are you alright?” Lando’s voice sounds strained, tinged with concern, and his hand squeezes yours again. “All in one piece? All your limbs still attached?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’m okay, I just can’t really see anything right now,” You sigh. Your vision is still fuzzy, even in the darkness of the car. If you focus hard enough, you can kind of make out faint outlines of your surroundings, but you know it’ll be a bit until you’ll be seeing things clearly again. Lando makes a worried sound, and you're sure if you could see him his head would be cocked to the side, brows pinched in the middle. “Just the flashing cameras, probably. Now I know why you wear sunglasses everywhere you go.” 

He laughs then, giggles at you like you've said something absolutely hilarious. “I told you why I always have them on me! Did you think I was joking?” 

“No, I just always thought you were being a douchebag.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Only douchebags wear glasses indoors, Lando. And blind people, but you're not blind.” 

“You might be after this,” He snickers. You shove him with a huff. Well, your smack hits something firm and he yelps, so you assume it’s him. “Ow, jesus—fine, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I shouldn't be making fun of blind people.” 

“You shouldn’t be making fun of me! Why didn’t you bring them today?” 

“I did!” He insists. “I just…left them right here on the seat. Whoopsies.”

“Whoopsies.” 

The car returns you to Lando’s building, and thankfully by then your vision has returned so you can make your way up to his floor on your own. Lando’s gone quiet on the elevator ride up, which is a bit uncharacteristic of him. After a good meal like the one you’ve just had, usually he’s talking about how he wants to dive into bed and sleep for ten years. This time, he just stares at the changing numbers above the door silently. 

He wanders to the couch as soon as you get into the apartment, whereas you make your way over to the kitchen to grab some water. You grab a glass from the cabinet, not turning around as you ask, “Water, Lan?” 

“Do you ever regret it?” Lando sounds small, unsure. You freeze, wait for him to keep going, but he doesn’t. Confused, you turn around with the glass still in hand to see him not even looking at you, instead focusing hard on picking at a loose thread at the edge of his sleeve. 

He fiddles when he’s upset, something you’d learned quite early on in just being around him. He’s actually quite easy to read, really. Or maybe it’s just because you love him so much you’ve become attuned to his body language, what he does when he’s sad, mad, and everything in between. 

You give an acknowledging noise for him to elaborate, and he drops the thread, finally looking up at you. “Being with me.” 

“Now why would you ever think that?” You’re the concerned one now, rushing over to sit beside him on the cushions. 

He shrugs, letting his shoulders drop heavily. “I dunno, just…everything that comes with me, it’s a lot to deal with, y’know? Sometimes I wonder if you wish my life wasn't so…public all the time.” 

You take Lando’s face in your hands firmly, tilting his chin up so he's looking directly at you. “I will gladly take you and everything you come with. No matter what it is. I never want you to doubt that, my love.”

“I don’t,” He says softly, a flicker of a smile gracing his face. “How did I ever get so lucky with you?” 

“I think it was the knobby knees and giant head that really made young me go, yeah, I want that one. I think the sentiment still stands too.” 

Lando's smile disppears. Now he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're mean. You're mean and I hate you."

"That was for making fun of me earlier!"

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[wouldtheyfuck]

[minhosimthings]

imagine … feeding jake grapes while on a picnic together … or maybe just watching a movie, snuggled up at home… you bring up smth about how you used to peel grapes with your teeth growing up and challenge him to see who can do it the best. but someway somehow, things get heated, and he starts teasing abt you having an oral fixation after you peeled the grape better than him, ofc ;), and he decides to prove you wrong by showing you just how skilled his mouth can really be- 🧎‍♀️

This has been marinating in my asks for so long istg (i think since 2023), so i wrote this extremely quickly, and im so sorry i couldnt make it a full fic annonie! But, as always, enjoy this quick dumb blurb on mine (i know its really short BUT BEAR WITH ME)

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, oral (f receiving), mention of food (grapes), swearing, use of nickname 'doll' NOT PROOFREAD (forgive me)

“Now that—” Jake slumped back against the tree, “—is definitely something you learnt at Hogwarts, you beautiful witch.”

You threw your head back as your entire body convulsed with laughter, bringing a goofy smile to Jake’s face as he realized how stupid his silly joke was. The sun was still peeking out from the horizon, bathing the skies in a shampoo of oranges and pinks. The soft spring breeze pushed Jake's hair back, prompting his body to relax into the soft grass which he sat upon. The checkered blanket which you had brought was sitting peacefully on a side, as you had decided that the grass was far more comfy. In front of you lay a basket filled with cotton-candy grapes.

“How are you even getting them to stay in your hands?” Jake whined, picking up a grape which happily slipped out his finger. You stifled a giggle.

“Just watch and learn babe.” You said with the air of a sensei, “watch and learn.”

You picked up a nicely rounded grape from the basket, pretending to observe its dimensions like a professor before you brought it to your mouth. Jake watched in pure awe as your teeth easily managed to pull off the slimy green outer layer, leaving the fresh fruit behind. You peeled one end, then the other, and the last strip went onto your tongue as you proudly showed off the skin-less grape to your boyfriend. 

“Yep.” Jake sighed, “Witch material.”

“But the hot kind right?” You laughed, popping the grape into your mouth, “You’re just jealous I could peel more grapes than you could.”

“Well, you practice it throughout your childhood!” Jake defended himself. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“It’s alright baby.” You put on a cheeky smile, before checking your watch. The sun was now fully below the horizon and nighttime was falling, “Some of us just weren't born for grape peeling.” You laughed at Jake's scowl.

“Home then?” You said, picking up the basket.

“Yep.” Jake replied with a pop of his lips, before helping you pack up.

……………………………………………………………………

"Ohh Jake, more–please I need you," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have his tongue buried as deep as possible. Apparently, the bragging rights of the grape-peeling competition didn't sit well with him, especially when you looked so sexy, peeling them. He had you pushed against the bedroom door as soon as you had changed into your pajamas, and now—he was devouring you like a starved man.

He took his time, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your body responding to his touch. His hands slid under your hips, pulling you closer, his tongue delving deeper into your depths. Your fingers tightened on his hair and his lips stopped coordinating with your pulsing cunt. Jake pulled away to look up at you and smirk.

He was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his hair sticking to his damp forehead, the buttons of his shirt—once done up to near his neck, now trailing open to the middle of his chest, exposing the warm glow of his skin underneath.

“Do I win the competition now, doll?” The lowered tone of voice Jake was using sent you swimming in a pool of insanity. And it wasn't like it was any different for him. Your willing pussy throbbing for his tongue and touch were driving him to the limits of his self-control.

Before you could respond to his words however, his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn't take the tension anymore and you threw your head back with a moan. Just the feeling of his breath and the knowledge of how close he was to your pussy was driving you crazy. 

You couldn’t help but rithe under his touch, bucking your hips at his face–on instinct, overwhelmed by the way Jake was relentlessly drinking you up, his fingers gripping tighter to the meat of your thighs to hold you in place as you could feel the tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine, your back arching in desperate anticipation.

A sort of whimpering scream escaped you as you began to gasp for air, far too fucked out, just by Jake’s persistent tongue. Everything was getting hazy, and soon, your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull. Instinctively, you clenched your fists tightly on the sheets and tried to move your hips out of his reach, but his hands on your waist effectively stopped your movements.

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Jake, I’m so close oh f-fuck, I’m–” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high. His lips completely wrapped as he suckles and continues to flick where you’re most sensitive, working you through your orgasm.

More arousal poured from you, and Jake was quick to lap it up. You grabbed his hair tighter, driving your hips into his face at a ravenous pace—practically fucking his face—and then it hit you again. Eyes rolled to the back of your head as your back arched in an awkward angle, your orgasm hits you hard. It’s without warning, heart-pounding, with a certain addiction—as sweet as cotton candy grapes.

Dividers by the talented @drizztdohurtin

[luthqrs]

"What?" "You, at a festival? With your face painted? Dancin', wavin' your hands in the air like you just don't care?!" CARLA CONNOR and LISA SWAIN in CORONATION STREET ↝ 04.11.2024

+ bonus live lisa reaction

[violetmuses]

Tyler Owens + Female Reader 🌪

@amethyst-loves-bucky 🏷

======

2024

“Ty, what are you doing?” After taking your much-needed shower, you've joined Tyler in the kitchen for breakfast. No work this time around.

“Cooking.” He laughed while shirtless. Even his cowboy hat waited in the corner.

“Don't burn my place down.” You rolled both eyes as bacon sizzled.

“Yes, Ma'am!” While Tyler pulled his Southern accent, you jumped when he smacked your ass in return.

This is what marriage can look like.

[adornedwithlight]

Blues: Butterfly lights

Please like, reblog and credit when you use my dividers!

(Requested by 🧋-Anon)

[glittering-moonlillie]

Rough Sketches (Damian Wayne x Artist! Reader)

Word Count: 2662

Warnings: Very suggestive, mild language

Summary: You knew all along that it was a bad idea to bring that dreaded sketchbook to his house, so why were you surprised to find out that things, indeed, went wrong.

The sounds of your 2B pencil hitting the smooth, white paper filled the silence of the wolf gray room. You started with a circle which, with a few more lines, easily transformed into a diamond shaped face. Next was the pointed nose along with the ears and neck, all of which were drawn with masterful precision. 

The eyes were always your favorite to draw; they were a deep and lively forest shade that made you melt whenever they came into contact with your own.  In this drawing specifically, his eyes were half lidded and showing only a sliver of green, his lips etched into a seductive smirk.

After a few more minutes, you were able to look down at the image of your boyfriend, Damian - shirtless, toned, and looking like he might chain you to his bed if you gave your consent. You held the notebook close to your chest and squealed, face tinted with both embarrassment and ardor.

You were an artist at heart, something that you and Damian bonded over the moment you two met. While Damian drew more realistically, focusing on actual details rather than abstracts, you preferred a more characterized style that personified a person’s personality. It lies between realism and cartoonism. People were always your favorite things to draw. There was always something satisfying about being able to perfectly capture a person with simple lines and colors. 

Over the time span of knowing one another, he quickly became your muse, the person you wanted to practice drawing over and over, and as your feelings for him increased so did your desire to get every single detail of him correctly. This desire continued the day he asked you to be his beloved girlfriend. 

Innocent drawings of his sharp eyes and cheshire smile morphed into something more risque, something dirtier. There were an array of pages with nothing but a shirtless Damian solely based on your secret desire for him to dominate you. 

For that reason, the small art collection was hidden away under the folds of your bed, only taken out during the darkest of nights when you got lonely enough. You were too embarrassed to ever reveal them in the light of day, and you were sure you would die if Damian ever uncovered the sketchbook. If Damian ever did see how perverted you really were, he would undoubtedly break up with you. After a string of terrible breakups, you weren’t sure if you could handle another, especially with the son Bruce Wayne. 

So it was a wonder why you left the sketchbook in your small night bag while you got ready to stay over at his house. It was a lapse of judgment, really, a small misstep that would certainly lead to disaster if you weren’t careful enough. And yet, there was a strong guiding force that  compelled you to take it out and start doodling.  After all, Damian was out on patrol and he said he would be back at 11:15 precisely. It was only 10:30 now, you had time to indulge in mindless fantasy, right? 

Your eyes traveled back down to your newest sketch, your brain trying to decide on whether or not you were disgusted with yourself or if you should be pleased. The drawing itself seemed alright, the anatomy was near perfect but the actual content…well…It felt sinful, like drinking too much bubbly soda that left a deep hole in your stomach and spoiled your dinner. 

As you glared down at your own creation, surgically dissecting the morality of drawing your boyfriend as often as you did (along with the few lude ones) when the window towards the front left of the room began to slide open. You could only watch like a deer in the scrutinizing gaze of a car’s headlights as Damian pulled himself through the small opening. 

“Beloved, I’m home.” He said, an unusual goofy smile plastered on his face. “Dick let me come home early and so I was able to pick up some food for us.”

Any profanity that you had been taught up till now was used at this exact moment to curse anything and everything: Your luck, the cruel gods, Dick Grayson, and most of all, yourself. You should have thrown the sketchbook into the fireplace in the living room once you realized you brought it - or, even better, you should have never created it in the first place.

 You shoved the indecent drawings underneath the dark green sheets.  “T-that’s…wonderful…” You sighed, breath shaky. Any slight oddity in your behavior could lead to Damian’s detective skills to be triggered. “Welcome home, my love!”

You stared at him, doing your best to imitate a calm and collected smile. Damian stared back, grin slowly shifting into something more curious. He took off his mask, tossing it onto his (frustratingly) organized mahogany desk and took a few steps closer to the bed. The food was left on the desk as well, the enticing aroma wafting over and tickling your nose. 

“Wh-what’s up?” You laughed half heartedly, voice trailing off as soon as the laughter escaped your throat. Did he have to tower over you like this -  like a cat about to pounce on his prey? 

“Nothing. I think…I think I just like the idea of coming home to you on my bed like this.” He plopped down onto the bed next to you, part of his darkened cape folding onto your legs. “That and you are acting quite peculiar.”

Lord almighty. 

“O-Oh? I am?” You asked, squirming towards the sketchbook, praying to any demon that would hear you that he would not notice its presence. Your hands crawled towards the book until it covered the huge DAMIAN WAYNE, MY BELOVED label attached to the front. 

Despite your pleas, it seemed that fate had something else hidden up its mischievous sleeves. 

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he scanned your movements until they landed on the haphazardly partially covered book. “Ah, you were drawing. I have never seen that cover before, can I look at it?”

Every nerve in your body seemed to be doused in gasoline fluid, only for him to kindly light a match and toss it, making everything burn inside and out. The blazing sensation rose to your cheeks and clogged your throat until it burned. Damian’s eyes continued to pierce straight through your soul and you realized the longer you took to respond, the more skeptical he will become. 

“Sketchbook? Right, yes, I was drawing while waiting for you to get home. Totally normal, totally fine, not something you would really be interested in.” With hasty hands, you pulled the pad close to your chest carefully so as to not expose the embarrassing label, your arms acting like a steel gate protecting glinting jewels from tempted dragons. 

His lips quirked into a frown and he, with minimal effort, raised a singular eyebrow. “That’s nonsense, Habibti. I always love seeing your art.” 

“I-I really don’t think you would want to see it. I mean, the sketches are really rough and it might melt your eyes off and your eyes are too pretty to be melted.” You exclaimed. 

Damian’s nose scrunched and it was at this moment you realized he did not believe you in the slightest. Unaffected by your behavior though, Damian reached for the coveted drawings swiftly, forcing you to jump off the bed and backpedal to the center of the room. 

“Beloved, this is nonsense. Why can’t I see your drawings?” Like a panther, Damian stalked his way towards you slowly yet purposefully. 

“Because!”

“Because…?”

He stepped closer, making him an arm’s reach away. Close enough to feel the irritation building up inside him. 

“Because I…” You drawed out the vowel. “I want to keep it private..?” It was a lie and you both knew it. Sharing art together was one of your guys’ main forms of quality time and you have never turned down the opportunity to do so. It was a quiet intimacy that allowed the other to see how you viewed the world and there was nothing you loved more.

There was a brief pause, echoing silence filling the room as the two of you engaged in an intense staring contest. It was at that moment, the second Damian’s lips twitched into a tenuous smirk, that you realized you began a competition you already lost. “Forgive me for this, alright Beloved?”

Damian extended his arm and attempted to grab the sketchbook again, resulting in the most terrifying game of tug of war you had ever participated in. Every centimeter of leverage you gained, Damian was there to pull back another 5 inches. You did your best to pull the drawings out of your boyfriend’s grasp but there was no way you could win in a tugging match with one of Gotham’s strongest protectors. 

With one harsh tug, you ended up falling on the carpeted floor of the room, hands empty. Damian’s frame towered over you, one hand trapping you under him and the other holding the sketchbook in his hands. A dangerous smile was plastered on his face. 

He pulled away, resting some of his weight on your lower abdomen and rendering you immobile. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but feel a certain way with Damian on top of you like this. His smirks were always rugged and somewhat sinister in tone, but now, with him on top of you, it felt like electricity shooting through your body and down between your thighs.

He scanned the front of the small binder and chuckled upon seeing the cover. “I see why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, I suppose. A sketchbook with nothing but me? Habibti, I’m flattered.”

You writhed, you pleaded, you begged - but Damian, with a small hum, began to flip through the pages. He would do anything to inflate his already bolstering confidence. With each flip, you counted down the remaining seconds you had of being his girlfriend. Seconds felt like an epoch and worse, you were powerless to do anything. 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, Habibti, these are wonderf-”

Damian’s voice waned as he flipped the next page; you could feel the pressure of his body settling, juxtaposed with his slight gaping mouth, curious eyes, and red tinted ears. Another shiver danced along your spine, like a ghost's touch, as he connected his eyes with yours. The intense green pigment left you feeling dizzy yet paralyzed with need, forcing you to close your eyes lest you might fall for him deeper. 

You waited for him to say something, anything, but all he could do was stare. The only comforting noise was the slight ringing in your ears from the loud silence.

“I knew you would think I was disgusting…” You muttered. 

Damian shook his head, eyes crinkling from the accusation.“What? No no…it’s not that, beloved. This isn’t disgusting in the slightest.” He said. “I was just a little surprised, my love.”

With a sigh, Damian pulled your dazed form into his arms and picked you up, carrying you back to the bed and laying you down on the covers. He pressed his lips to your temple delicately. “I want to show you something.”

He inched away with a whispered laugh. Damian lowered himself to the ground and pulled out what seemed to be a hidden box of drawing supplies and papers. 

“I wanted to show you this for a while, Habibti but a part of me was unsure how you would react.” He tugged out a similar looking sketchbook to yours. The cover was scuffed and darkened with age and each paper spilled out, begging for release. Damian stood back up and lightly kicked the box into place under the bed. 

Damian’s hand slipped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He held the mess of papers in front of you and as he pressed loving kisses along your exposed neck, he murmured a soft “Look through it.” 

You hesitantly opened the cover and the first image you see is a beautiful picture of you drawn with the loving intricacy of a photograph. Splashes of your favorite color decorated the outline of the portrait and you could discern the collar of the outfit Damian loved to see you wear. The next few pages were all similar to the first with the same picturesque quality; every portrait featured you smiling, flaws and all. 

Damian’s arms wrapped around you tighter, trapping you against him. You could feel his heartbeat matching yours, thumping against your back. His fingers played with your hair, twirling it into delicate curls. The way you were positioned, Damian’s thigh was directly in between your own, and you hated the urge you had to start rubbing yourself against him. 

As you flipped the next page, your vision is suddenly filled with drawings of you clothless, sprawled out and blushing. Damian had never seen you naked and yet every curve felt like looking in a silver lined mirror. Your breathing hitched. 

“I think you have the most gorgeous body in the world,” He said, “I’ve always wanted to worship your body fully but I wasn’t sure if you wanted that or not…”

His finger trailed down your neck to the opening of your shirt, leaving a fiery trail of butterflies in its wake and teasingly playing with the buttons. “I didn’t realize you needed me this badly, Beloved…” He whispered in your ear. 

“D-Damian…”

You shifted around, body suddenly searching - yearning - for something, but you weren’t sure what. It was an exuberant, even wanton, anticipation; a breathless pining that consumed every ounce of your being until your mind became clouded with need. Any previous inhibition you had quickly drifted away. 

There was some more shuffling of papers and yet another soft chuckle emanated. “Darling, if you wanted to know how big I was, you could have just asked.”

He held up another picture from your sketchbook, one where you attempted to draw a fully nude picture of Damian that ended up being scrapped, the only remnant being the question How big even is he? 5, 6 inches maybe? 

Instead of being embarrassed by this though, the comment only furthered your lack of restraint, and you had to slowly rock yourself back and forth against Damian’s thigh to assuage the increasingly empty pit deep within you. Damian’s lips pressed against your neck once more, surely leaving marks to remember in the morning. 

A small whimper escaped your mouth, his hands wandering up further until they palmed your chest. You allowed yourself to move just a bit faster, only for Damian’s hands to trail back down and tightly grab your hips, forcing you to remain still. 

“Damian, what the hell!” You whined. 

“Patience, my love. If you want me to fuck you then you have to calm down, alright?” He turned you around so that you were now face to face and kissed you gently. “This is our first time after all, I want to do it right.”

He continued to press tortuous open-mouthed kisses down your body, unbuttoning your blouse along the way. “You are so beautiful…” He murmured against your skin. 

Your back arched from the hint of pleasure feasting your body, picking away at every last bit of sanity until nothing remained. The comfortable clothes you wore suddenly felt too tight and restricting to breathe.

He pushed you onto the bed so your back was flush against the covers, his frame looming over you, and from the tent of his black pants, you could tell that your estimation of five to six inches was far off. 

“Damian…I need you…” You panted. “Please”

“And you will have me, Y/n.” He assured, the loving smile he only showed you in full view. “But for right now, I just want you to stay still and be good for me, alright?”

So as some of you may seen, I don't have as much experience with writing heavy spicy stuff, so I know that this is probably really bad. But! That's okay! Because one day I am going to look back at cringe, and that will just be a sign of my improvement! Also, I wasn't sure how to end it so...uh...OPEN ENDING-

[nightmarereverie]

hiya! do you think you could pull iron bundle figure transparents? its this little guy-

can't find good pngs :(

Sorry for the wait, I just woke up, but regardless: Aye-aye Cap'n! One set of spooky future Delibird figurine pngs!

(If you wanted something else, please let me know, so I can correct it to the best of my abilities — whether it be a private message or another ask, thanks for requesting!) ✿༉‧₊˚.

[fernifox]

Yamato!!! I love him so much, he’s one of my favorite side characters.

[starfirette]

Hey!anon here! Since you made a Fluff Alphabet for Dori,can you maybe make an NSFW version? If not,or request are closed then it's okay 🍵🌷

❇starfirette renaissance day two...?!?!?!?! I thoroughly enjoyed this!

❇Dori Sakurada NSFW Alphabet | more Dori fics here! | masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pillow talker meets attentive retail staffer. Encourages you to pee and shower up; engages in aftercare behaviors you additionally require, such as reassurance or food. He’s very much your dom so he takes his role seriously. Your health and wellbeing is incredibly important to him so he’s going to pay attention to that first!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He prefers his mouth or his hands; he is self aware and he knows that he was asked to model a lipstick for a reason. As for you, he loves your hair. To pull it, to control you with it; or to softly play with, braid absentmindedly…

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

On your tongue. “Be good and swallow it”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Is a kinky, kinky man. He wouldn't consider this a secret if he weren't so well known. Being that he is famous he keeps it on the down low. Very likely to be into BDSM as a dom only. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Average experience. Has had sexual relationships with partners and BDSM experiences with strictly sexual partners. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes when you're on your knees or intricately restrained 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Maybe strikes jokes in a mocking way, sometimes are your expense but he wouldn't ever mean it 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I doubt he'd shave at all. Maybe to keep things neat but he doesn't bother trying to stay bare

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If he's in a relationship and he loves you, then he can be tender and romantic. But with a strictly sexual partner or a one night stand, he wouldn't bother/feel comfortable 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Makes you watch while he edges himself. He likes the JOE 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dom and Sub, as well as pain infliction and degradation. He thoroughly gets off on being in complete control. He edges himself and he'll edge you, too

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Mostly in his own place just because his toys and his ‘area’ is there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you whine. When you misbehave. When you obviously are in need of his attention 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don't foresee him being into the Daddy thing. He's more of a master 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes to grip a fistful of your hair while you guides your mouth up and down on his cock. He also likes to tie you up and put a gag in your mouth before he goes down on you. Sometimes, as a punishment, he'll overstimulate you. He won't take it easy. He won't let you think of it as a prize: he'll suck your clit like a jolly rancher while you scream over the gag. He knows it gets uncomfortable after a while and that's why it's a punishment

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough over slow and rough

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his forte

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh yes, absolutely! 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can be pretty tired after a long day of work and filming and everything else. It really depends on how far you two want to go and if he has the time and energy to do anything. Of course if you two want to have a chill quickie he's totally down! I think he doesn't mind being a soft, service dom, especially if you ask! 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Why yes he certainly does. I imagine a sex swing, rope, floggers, and gags are some of his favorites. Just anything to keep you restrained. He is content with using his hands and mouth to punish or reward you. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Very much likes to edge you! Most of the experience is foreplay. Generally getting you wet and excited. You like to be teased, he likes to tease you, so it’s a win-win.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s loud and he LIKES being loud, he PREFERS it. If he has to yell at you then we will. Brats will be punished. But good girls get their praise. Loud encouragement is the best encouragement. He is vocal about his own pleasure and he is sure to let his girl know she’s doing such a good job.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You two have made sex tapes, but they’re kept on your phone and not his 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I imagine he is chiseled and sharp edged, toned with slight muscles that make him bulkier than he typically would be. I also have to say he is hung as a horse 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think that the more he loves you the more he finds himself craving you. He thinks about you all the damn time. You consume his thoughts when he is bored or daydreaming. He finds himself fantasizing about everything he wants to do to you when he sees you next

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once you’re all cleaned up and taken care of he’ll feel comfortable to chill and fall asleep. Part of being a dom means looking out for your sub. He takes it very seriously and he’d never want to leave you without the aftercare that you need

[kozumesphone]

hi! your writing style is so cute!!! <3

could I request for a jason x sister!reader fluff? maybe a holiday theme oneshot at camp ft. leo's silly little dialogues of course 💞

masterlist

💌┊₊˚⊹꒷ LIKE WE JUST MET .ᐟ

⤷ platonic!multiple x daughter of zeus!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅

ᝰ. 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 . . . percy jackson and heroes of olympus

ᝰ. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 . . . jason grace’s sister!reader and tooth rotting fluff ft. jason (ofc), leo and his adorable dialogues, just fluff basically, christmas party, and a fun day out for the demigods. ft. y/n saying a few words here and there in french, princess passenger!leo again <3, sugar crashed!leo, matching lightning mcqueen pjs for y/n & jace. alsoalso jason’s weatherman nickname inspired by this post.

ᝰ. 𝐤𝐞𝐲 . . . y/n — your name | n/n — nickname | r/n — random name | ‘merde’: shit | ‘mon amour’: my love

ᝰ. 𝐰𝐜 . . . 1.5k

ᝰ. 𝐚/𝐧 . . . uhajshwkjs this request is everything! tysm anon, bc I miss winter sm 😭 this was the perfect way to get over my summer depression fr <3 hope you like it!

“rise and shine, my lovely buffalos!” clarisse’s voice rang loudly.

“stop, no,” jason groaned from the opposite side of the room, grabbing a pillow to cover his ears.

“I love you, but it’s christmas eve. let us sleep in, clarisse! even jace wants to!” I yelled.

I cracked an eye open, and sunlight filtered through the now-open door as clarisse walked in, her hand intertwined with a sleepy chris’.

“oh, the light, i’m going to go blind, merde-” I rambled and picked up a pillow, throwing it in the general area of the cabin’s door. a thwap sounded as clarisse caught the pillow before it maimed chris.

“man, wake up, where’s the christmas cheer, yeah?” chris said, extremely unenthusiastically.

“you’re half asleep, dude. let me sleep,” jason mumbled.

“yeah, we all know clarisse dragged you here-” suddenly, my blanket was yanked off my body as I muttered a string of curse words. “nooooooo, my lovely and warm blanket-”

a squeal sounded from jason’s side of the room and I sat up on my bed to see him blanket-less as well. satisfied that I wasn’t the only one who was being annoyed by the two lovebirds, I grinned.

“you know, this is the first time you didn’t wake up the second your clock hit 5 in the morning,” I chuckled at jason.

before he could reply, clarisse started ordering us around. “get out of your pyjamas and come around to the dining pavillion for breakfast at 8.”

she glanced at jason’s and mine matching lightning mcqueen pyjamas, and grinned. chris and her walked out, leaving the door open.

“at least close the door,” I mumbled.

we disappeared into our sides of the room to get ready, and met up outside the cabin in 20 minutes.

it was absolutely serene to wake up to an almost-empty camp as it was snowing, with the harpies asleep. a butterfly landed on jason’s nose and I smiled. in that moment, it felt like nothing could disrupt the harmony of the world-

“HEY, WEATHERMAN! oh hello, lovely n/n,” leo skidded to a stop in front of us and grinned.

“morning, princess,” I said. leo and I did our handshake, as jason was still preoccupied with the butterfly.

“dude, how did you not wake up at 5? did your alarm malfunction? I can fix it for ya,” leo commented, looking at jason.

“what, i’m not allowed to wake up late?” he rolled his eyes, and started walking towards breakfast. leo and I followed him, talking about our prank war against the stoll twins and the general ongoings of camp half-blood.

we all take our seats at the hermes cabin’s table since chiron decided we should just sit at the same table because we’re only 40-ish campers, as compared to the usual 150 or more.

jason talks with clarisse for a while as leo and I engage in conversation with connor and travis, as we wait for the food. when everything we could ever want for breakfast turns up in our plates, we collectively get up and make a line to offer some food to the gods. I drop in a portion of my french fries and some vegetables I didn’t want.

“good luck receiving burnt vegetables, my dudes on olympus,” leo said, looking at me dropping some broccoli into the pyre, making me roll my eyes.

as we ate, chiron walked trotted in and took his seat at the head of the table, as mr. d echoed his actions on the other side.

“merry christmas eve, kids,” chiron said. “we have an announcement to make.”

we stopped talking between ourselves and turned towards chiron.

“as you all know, most of our campers have left camp to visit their families for the winter,” chiron said, as we all nodded along.

“and in lieu of the small number of you left in camp, we wanted to let you know that we are giving you pesky kids permission to have a ‘party’ for christmas.” mr. d continued. “and as a bonus, for gods know what reason, chiron asked to send any four of you to the mortal world to buy some decorations, or whatever, and anything else you might need.”

chatter broke out at the news of camp’s first ever christmas party.

“no alcoholic drinks will be permitted, unfortunately,” mr. d remarked sadly, which no one bothered to hear.

by the end of breakfast, we were all talking about the things we’d need for the party, and I began making a list. after an hour of begging, chiron decided that jason, leo, travis, and I (or as mr. d called us: “lee, jackson, tyler, and r/n”) could go to buy decorations and food ingredients. he gave us a few american dollars, and told us to eat something with any remaining money. he also pulled jason and me aside, asking us to look after the other two.

we piled into the camp car with travis driving, and leo beside him. ever the passenger princess, he put on his sunglasses, turned up the radio, and started singing to some pop music.

in about half an hour, we reached a store called 7-eleven (“but why would you name a shopping centre in numbers?” leo had asked us the last time we’d been there) and walked into the store, the sound of the bell resonating behind us.

we split into each of the four aisles for food, use-and-throw cutlery, decorations, and board & card games.

I finished picking out the decorations first and met up with jason, who got lots of food, near the cashier.

“ooh, percy, hazel and nico would’ve loved the cocoa and marshmallows,” I said to jason, peeping into his basket.

“yeah. and frank, will and annie would’ve loved to help you put up all those streamers and everything,” he said.

I realised that it was the first time we were spending christmas without them.

“why do you guys look like someone ran over your favourite stuffed toy? it’s christmas eve, guys! cheer up!” travis said, slapping jason’s back.

leo joined us too, suddenly smacking my shoulder as well, earning himself a glare from jason.

jason and I scanned travis and leo’s baskets to make sure they didn’t get anything extra. satisfied, jason grabbed all four baskets and made small talk with the cashier about a football game till the billing finished.

“shotgun!” leo called, as soon as we got our receipt, and he ran away along with travis to get into the car. I chuckled and took two of the four bags from jason.

from the store, we drove to a cafe for some coffee and bagels before getting back to camp.

timeskip

by half past 10, the hecate, tyche, hebe, hypnos, hera, poseidon, and hephaestus cabins had all the decorations set up, while the athena, demeter, nike, iris, and hades cabins whipped up the foods. the remaining cabins (ares, apollo, artemis, zeus, hermes, nemesis, aphrodite, and dionysus) set up the various games and logs for the campfire. chiron and mr. d chopped and dragged a tree from the woods to decorate.

we began settling down in a circle around the campfire with the decorated and well-lit christmas tree to one side. the apollo kids began singing, and the hermes kids put on their own version of a musical they called ‘hamilton’.

games were played and christmas carols were sung until we felt sleepy, and the chirping of the crickets increased. I was on my fourth cup of hot chocolate (jason said it wasn’t healthy, but whatever) and fifth packet of mini marshmallows, while leo was… passed out beside me from way more than just five cups of hot chocolate and lots of candy. typical leo valdez sugar crash.

“ay, mon amour,” I laughed at him.

beside me, jason was smiling warmly at the fire. his face was glowing in the harsh light of the campfire, making him look every part thalia’s brother.

I was a few months younger than jason, but I was at camp before he stumbled in. thalia was almost like my blood sister, always taking care of me. at this moment, everything about jason reminded me of the girl I once loved like a sister.

campers’ clocks struck 12, echoing wishes of ‘merry christmas’ throughout the camp.

“merry christmas, n/n,” jason smiled down at me.

“merry christmas, weatherman.”

“N/N!!! mErrY cHriStMaaaaaaaS!-“

“merry christmas, your honour, bad boy supreme,” I laughed at leo.

getting up from our spots on the mattresses around the campfire, everyone made their way into the hermes cabin. they had the biggest beds, and we’d all gotten our cabin’s heaters into one for more warmth.

the stolls fell onto the bed first, followed by around 10-12 campers, jason, leo and me. everyone readjusted themselves to comfort, and we were all falling asleep.

in the morning, I wouldn’t have anyone to share a miraculous christmas kiss with, but I will have many hugs to give to the boys I loved like my own brothers, and that would be enough for me any day.

bonus!

“i’m not crying, you are,” chiron said, wiping a stray tear away, looking at the huge cuddle pile in the hermes cabin. “my babies!”

mr. d scoffed at him.

taglist — @sunnitheapollokid @puffoz @canonfeminine @taytayluvr @urmomabby @cinemaconrad @aezuria @thetunnelunderoceanboulevard @jgracie @cherigall @percabethluvr @pjoverseluvr @maybxlle

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[katsu28]

Hi, I really like your writing! I had an idea for a fic with Lando. He left school really young (he got tutored privately afterwards according to wikipedia) and mayhaps that could make him feel insecure or something along those lines if he has a significant other that is in university, maybe studying to get a bachelors or masters degree. School is not everything and does not accurately measure intelligence or anything else but it is still a standard that most people hold and compare themselves too. It's something that I know all to well, which is where this idea came from. Whatever you do with it thank for reading it!💖

thank you for trusting me with your idea <3

lando norris x reader, r is in an unspecified master's program, 1.5k.

Lando loves how smart you are.

He tells you all the time. When you’re stressed from the intensity of your master’s program, nervous about an exam, or most of the time, just randomly. He’s proud of you for taking on something he definitely doesn’t have the brains for, and for absolutely crushing it so far. 

He left school before even completing his GCSEs in year 10, just so he could focus on racing full time—a decision he’d never regret, but always wondered about.

What would his life have looked like if he hadn’t devoted it to pursuing a career in racing? Would he have finished secondary school? Made it to university?

He doesn’t even know what he would’ve studied. 

Granted, he was never really good at school to begin with, but things could’ve changed. Now don’t get him wrong, he would never change a thing, but that didn’t mean he never thought about what might’ve been. 

So yes, Lando loves how smart you are, but if he’s being honest with himself, it does make him feel a little insecure about his own intellect.

-------

Lando finds you in your workspace when he gets home from padel with Max. 

He’d turned one of his guest rooms into a sort of office slash study space for you when you moved in with him all that time ago, a place where you could get your work done in a quiet environment whenever you needed to. The space itself was one of the smaller rooms, but still bigger than you were used to, and decorated to perfection too. 

A standing desk with an ergonomic chair (better for your neck and back, he’d said, so you weren’t hunched over your books all the time), a smart blackboard on one wall for any necessary brainstorming, a comfy chair in another corner—all overlooking the Monte Carlo cityscape from massive floor to ceiling windows. Everything else has been up to you, but Lando wanted nothing but the best for his smart girl. 

He pads in silently, making his way over to where you're furiously typing at your computer to press a kiss to your cheek. You flinch a little, startled out of your own world at the action. Your eyes fly to his, wide, before your posture relaxes again. 

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” You breathe, giving him a short kiss on the lips this time. 

“Didn’t mean to make you jump like that, darling. My bad,” He chuckles. He leans over your shoulder, squinting at the diagrams on your screen. “What’s that?” 

“Oh, it’s—” You pause, flicking through a few pages of the textbook next to your computer. Your lips twist to the side in thought, and then you smile at him in what he’s sure you meant to be an assuring way. “Nevermind, you probably wouldn’t get it.” 

He knows you don't mean it as a dig or anything, but the brush off ignites a bitter taste on his tongue. And if there’s one thing about Lando, it’s that he feels everything extremely strongly. “Well I’m sorry, not all of us can be geniuses.” 

“Pardon?” You look genuinely stunned at his outburst, at this huge 180 degree turn his mood has taken within the last few seconds.

Then he can't help the words tumbling out of his mouth next. “I get it, alright? ‘Lando doesn't know what I’m talking about, let’s make Lando feel dumb!” 

He storms off before you can process his stinging words, but even then, the anger that had just flared up in him has already dissipated. Lando knows all of it comes from a place of insecurity, that little nagging feeling at the back of his brain telling him that even though he’s happy where he is, happy doing what he does for a living, he could’ve made something different of himself. 

You leave him alone for a while before coming to find him, presumably to let him cool off. He feels awful about what he said now. Honestly, he hadn't even meant to say it out loud, doesn’t know why he said it. It’s not like he meant it. 

A knock from the doorway of the bedroom draws him out of his guilty thoughts, and he looks up to see you hovering just behind the threshold. He hates how you look hesitant to approach him. 

You press your lips into a thin line once his gaze meets yours. “Can we talk about what just happened?” 

“It’s nothing. Just forget I said anything.” 

“It’s obvious you’ve been holding onto those thoughts for a while, so no, Lando, it’s not nothing.” 

“I don’t wanna fight,” He mumbles, eyes glued to his fiddling fingers. You seem to notice his sudden quietness because your expression softens as you cross the room to sit next to him. 

“We’re not fighting. You’ve got something on your mind, and I want to know so I can help,” You reply, shifting to face him. He can tell how you're trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “Please let me help.” 

Lando chews on his bottom lip, unsure. You say you want to help, but he's worried that if he tells you what's really going on, you’ll think it's silly. It is silly, really, him feeling insecure because of how smart you are. But if he doesn't tell you, you’ll think he doesn't trust you, and he does trust you. He trusts you with everything. 

Then you say his name again, softer this time, and you’re looking at him like you’ve done something horrible, and he sighs. 

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not smart enough to be your boyfriend. You get all excited about your research when you talk about it,” He sighs, shrugging clumsily, “and I want to understand it because I wanna be able to get excited about it with you, but I just don’t get it. And it makes me feel stupid.” 

“I didn’t—Lando, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to, I—” 

He shakes his head forcefully, grabbing both your hands in his. “No, that’s not what I meant. You never make me feel stupid. It’s my problem, really. I just…I’m not really known for my brains, yeah? Came to terms with that a while ago.” 

“You’re smart, Lan,” You insist, brows pinching in the middle. “You’re so smart, what’re you even talking about?” 

“We talking about the same person here? I never even finished school. Wasn’t too good at it before I left either.”

“There’s more than one way to be smart, y’know,” You continue. Lando tilts his head curiously, not unlike a puppy would. “You’ve got amazing people skills, you’re creative beyond anything I could’ve dreamed up, you’re well balanced with your emotions. Not to mention the amount of skill and strength it takes to do what you do everyday, at the level you perform at.” 

“No, but that’s different. I could never do what you do, remember all the stuff that you’ve had to.”

“And you think I could do what you do?” You ask, giving a disbelieving chuckle. “Genuinely, if I got put into the cockpit of your car, I wouldn’t even be able to start the bloody thing, let alone drive it the way you can when you’re being bombarded with information from all sides during a race. If you put me in front of a group of reporters, if I had to do even a fraction of the press appearances and sponsorship events you do, I’d probably shit my pants.”

Lando wrinkles his nose in slight disgust. “That’s nasty.” 

“It’s true though! I can’t do half the things you can, but that doesn’t make me any less smart. It just means we’re smart in different ways. So what you never finished school? School isn’t the only way to measure how intelligent you are. And Lando, you’re beyond intelligent.” 

His shoulders sag with the long sigh he releases, and he lists to the side, slumping over onto your lap. “Sorry for lashing out,” He murmurs, cheek pressed against your knee. He rolls over onto his back, gazing up at you with truly apologetic eyes. “I didn’t mean what I said, I was just being a dick.” 

You hum noncommittally, stroking a hand through his curls. “You’re allowed to have feelings, Lando, it’s alright.” 

“Yeah, but what I said was just mean, and I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t deserve to be snapped at like that.” 

“Makes up for all the times I’ve snapped at you during exams, so…call it even?” You ask, leaning over him with a soft smile. 

“We’re even.” He lifts his head, craning to reach your lips, and you chuckle a little bit, but meet him halfway in a gentle kiss. 

It’s an I’m sorry kiss, a I forgive you kiss, a I’ll always support you kiss.

A no matter what you say, I’ll love you forever kiss.

This fact, Lando knows for sure, even though a little bit of him still thinks he’s not quite as smart as you.

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[wouldtheyfuck]

[traumakiss]

Name: Nicole, Nicotine, Amaya, Charlotte (Charlie/Lotte) Pronouns: He/Him, Cut/Cuts, Gore/Gores, Slit/Slits Titles: N/A Age: 18 Species: Human Gender: Transfeminine, Gxrl Orientation: Aroallo, BiLesbian Typing Quirk: N/A Other: Hypersexual

CisIDs: Brunette, Blue Eyes, ASPD, BPD, NPD, Low Empathy TransIDs: PermaAbuser, PermaManipulator, TrisHarmful, TransSmoker, TrisMisandrist, TransGoreAddict Paraphilias: Nｅcrophile, Somnophile, Biastophile, Erotophonophile Blankqueer Stance: Xenosatanist Other: Sadist

Role: Persecutor Source: Nicole { Class of 09 } Likes: Gore, Women Dislikes: Men, Being Vulnerable Other: N/A Appearance: Canon, Just with S/H scars

[phoxphenex]

req: texts with chenle where he's your classmate and you always flirt with him boldly and tell him you like him but he always rejects your advances saying he's not interested and you swear you'll get him until you get tired of it and stop texting and replying to him so he realizes he's in love with you and apologizes until he wins you back

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗦 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥