#Tina's SI

[sincerely-sofie]

in hindsight Darkrai was kinda lucky he only really had Palkia on his tail, considering Dialga was pretty much incapacitated by the Temporal Tower collapse

considering how similar his goal was to Cyrus', he's REALLY lucky he didn't wind up pissing off a certain third somebody, if you know what i mean...

Yeah the guy is on pretty thin ice with all three of the trio, and if Giratina were around during the events of the game, he’d be well underwater. He’s lucky that she’s tired of putting up with her brothers by the time the plot happens and is taking some time to focus on herself.

[officialromaniantranslatiuni]

liiiiiiiiiiiisten... melodia aia cu macarena de la erika whatever* e ordinara rau din toate punctele de vedere si cu argumente basic luate parca de pe pagina mediocra de insta care se vrea feminista, dar a deranjat gigeii (mireii in cazul ei) asa ca good for her

[ghostlypawn]

twitter recently has been *hardcore theatre fan makes a slight joke about wicked* *random person thinks its serious and spends the night arguing with it*

[aletterfortina]

So I was listening to this song, and... let’s just say it immediately made me think of you. You’ve definitely got me feeling some type of way, kind of like the energy in this track. 😏

[entropiasgift]

Federica y Dagmar modern AU/flatmates AU:

[arachine]

NOBODY UNDERSTANDS HOW FUCKING LONG IVE BEEN FIENDING FOR THIS FUCKING FIC LIKE IVE SPENT SECONDS MINUTES DAYS WEEKS MONTHS YEARS DECADES DAYDREAMING ABOUT THIS SHIT IT WAS ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT ON THE TOILET IN THE SHOWER IN BED IN SCHOOL AND NOW IM GONNA BE SO INSUFFERABLE OH MY GODDDDDDJEJJSJNSSJ

thinkin’ about bbf!charlie who uses any and every excuse under the sun to run into you when he’s over the house.

you’d call for your brother to hand you a towel from the shower, and your brother, ever the naive one, thinks nothing of it when charlie so eagerly offers to run it to you. thinks it’s just him being nice, brotherly.

he couldn’t be more wrong. you’d think after years of friendship, years of being attached at the hip, your brother would know everything there is to know about charlie.

but no, he doesn’t. he doesn’t know what charlie does when he’s home alone with just his fist and his imagination. and he doesn’t know who he’s thinking about when he’s got his hands stuffed down his pants, or even whose name he repeats like a mantra—over and over and over again—when he finishes all over himself for the nth time that night.

doesn’t even know that his best friend likes to watch you…doesn’t even know that he’s doing it right now. but he’s got your towel, though. and all he has to do is just accidentally stumble in. just accidentally not hear you when you say you’re indecent. yeah, some best friend he is.

lexi you're actually killijggemememeemem pleasseeee, the charlie renaissance starts now fr, we r about to be the leaders

°͙˒ ⊹ 𝐛𝐛𝐟!𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𖠵 ˖ ࣪

꒰ pairing: charlie walker x fem!reader ꒱

𓂅`˒ warning(s): male masturbation, charlie is lowkey delusional but me too, dirty talk to 'you' but you're not there but plot twist u actually are! (just read this plz.), he whimpers and he tears up 🤝

꒰ overview: charlie knows he shouldn’t be doing this, he's downright pathetic and he's well aware of it, but when he finally catches a moment to steal your panties—well, no point in stopping now, right? ꒱

he’s vile, he has to be—no normal person steals panties from his own bestfriends sister, he’s absolutely pathetic, and yet, he can’t seem to stop. he thinks he’s just too desperate, delusional. he’s sure you’re only so kind to him because he’s your brothers bestfriend, that’s it.

but, you gaze at him longer than one could consider normal, and maybe he is a bit off the hinges, but he can’t be wrong to think you want him, right? nonetheless, he knows he’s perverted for stealing your underwear, and he’s even more sick for breathing in the scent like a starved man, but it’s really, really hard not to.

and when he ‘’accidentally’’ walks in on you when you’re indecent, you act like you expected it—which is impossible, because how would you even know? has he really underestimated just how much you’ve found out about him and his dirty endeavors? (surprise, you have.) and you’ve decided it’s time you switch your roles.

he really decided to risk his own skin and steal your panties once more, and he’s sure he has some type of special spot in hell for stroking his dick in his bestfriends bathroom, like, he really does—but it feels so, so good. the fabric is rubbing deliciously over his cock, and he’s doing this slow fast pattern that leaves literal goosebumps in his goddamn feet.

he can feel he’s about to leave a rather loud noise if he continues, and he doesn’t want to stop because, well he stole a fresh pair and how could he ever, let your panties go to waste? so, he bites his fist and whimpers into his hand instead—god, the things he’d do to be able to touch you, your tits, your ass. he would eat your pussy like it’s the last on earth, he knows he’d be messy but he’s also sure you’d help guide him, tug him by his hair maybe, or even tell him how he’s a good boy.

and, oh fuck, if he goes at this rate he’s going to release all over your panties, smearing them and covering them in his cum. if he were actually paying attention to the sounds outside of the bathroom he’s currently hiding in, then maybe he would’ve noticed how the door opened just the slightest bit, and maybe he’d notice how you were peeking, and how your mouth was open and your pussy was absolutely pulsing at the sight of charlie tugging on his cock with your panties.

‘’oh, oh fuck, fuck yes baby—please—more, nghh.’’ and he’s certain he’s fucked now, there’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear him whimper your name like a pathetic bitch, he’s stroking himself so quickly he’s genuinely afraid he’s gonna hurt himself—but you’re like an addiction, he needs more and more and more. a few more strokes and he’s spurting his cum on your panties, and you feel yourself gasp a bit at the sight, he releases the loudest groan before he does it, and truly, it’s a sight for sore eyes (and ears.)

your heart is beating so quickly you’re afraid even he’ll hear it. you notice he’s about to get up and quickly leave, but in the moment of things you forget to close the fucking door, and charlie may be sometimes dense, but he’s not that stupid. he notices, and he knows it was you, he just does—your brother would probably beat the shit out of him if he found out what his bestfriend thinks about his sister, so the only other choice is you. and he, like the sick bastard he is, feels and finds himself smiling at the thought—maybe he wasn’t as delusional as he thought after all.

@ vulturni 2023

[kasiobite03]

lo q me encanto tanto de bagi ayer es q ella cuando ve una problema consiga la manera de superarlo, y si no puede dice Ok ahorita no, regreso cuando si puedo. por ejemplo, tratando de encontrar la manera de entrar la casa de forever ella primero abrió la mapa y vio donde podia pasar antes de gastar su tiempo corriendo por todo el circulo. o cdo estaba tratando entrar la casa de veg ella se dio cuenta del train pero mejor se fue a avanzar en su viaje. sabe leer la mapa. aprendió usar el train. usa el waystone. usa una cubeta de chocolate para escapar de hoyos, son momentos chiquitos pero aun expresan su inteligencia y habilidades.... creo q estoy enamorada ....💞

[letterstotheflre]

i was listening to maathp and started feeling excited bc i imagined myself listening to the intro of eras tour and then i started to cry

[verchante]

Ishq hai - LN4

cw: fluff, desi!reader as always, based on an debate i literally had one of my frnd. veer-zaara, om shanti om, and devdaas are goated idc

lando adjust the camera as he waited for people to enter the stream. "chat you need to fix something," his tone solemn. "don't start before me," a voice yelled from the hallway before his girlfriend came into the view. she handed him his cup of chai before sipping on her coffee.

"chat remember whose fans you are," lando says. "that's cheating!" his girlfriend exclaimed. "babe how is it cheating when some bhen ka lauda said 'we're yn's fans lando'," he read one of the comments. "bhabhi hai teri," lando says to the camera as if directly threatening the person who left the comment.

lando norris who is that? i'm js here for yn 😍😍😍

actually she's my fav engineer

lando move i can't see yn

"alright guys, what do you think is the goated srk movie and why is it mohabbatein," he says. "you know mohabbatein jimmy shergill reminds me of neil perry from dead poets society," his girlfriend chimes in. "but the goated ones are om shanti om, veer-zaara, and devdass," she added.

lando scrunches up his face at the movies she listen, already having been traumatized by devdaas. "mohabbatein literally serves everything. devdaas and om shanti om are just plain trauma," he argued. "nah, uh om shanti om, devdaas, and veer-zaara are just goated," she repeated.

kuch kuch hota hai, laughing in the corner

"i literally don't believe ki there are people who like kuch kuch hota hai. that movie doesn't even make sense," she scoffed. "oh so om shanti om and veer-zaara makes sense?" lando sassed. "a guy who died reincarnation 30 years later and took revenge for his dead love?" he added.

"exactly! that's actually like so green flag thing," she replied. "and an iaf pilot left his job to go to pakistan to confront his situationship so that she can marry someone else. mind you that girl went to pakistan overnight," he rolls his eyes.

"okay i get it but it's not like the entire story is bullshit. i mean kuch kuch hota hai just doesn't even make sense. i have this theory ki rahul has a type. he's into feminine girls and jab anjali ko dekha in sarees he wrote a letter to his daughter signed by tina."

"vaise bhi hai toh tharkulla red flag. uss bhen ke laude ko dono chaiye. matlab peak bakchodi. and i genuinely can't understand that kisi ki favourite movie is kuch kuch hota hai," she added. "you cannot talk about logic in movies when your favourites are om shanti om," lando argued. "please my favorites are much better than mohabbatein," she rolls her eyes at him.

"please apna kalesh aapne pass keep karein," lando scoffs at her, referencing to her kaleshi aurat teeshirt. she gasped, "i'm returning you to cisca, you caught on my sass," she punched his shoulder. "dil se movie bhul gaye kya," she read one of the comments.

"wait that's the one with chaiyya chaiyya na? meine dekha nahi hai. behenchod i even forgot the hook step of chaiyya chaiyya," she mumbled. "it's literally this," lando moved his chair away from her, demonstrating the hook step while being seated.

"behenchod a white man knows the hook step to chaiyya chaiyya and i don't," she stopped herself. "actually mujhe hindi bol na chaiye varna mera aadhar card le lenge," she chuckled. "even my name is khan is a good movie too," she reads in the comments.

"anyway songs," lando says moving chair to it's original place. "look i don't care what you say ishq hai is goated. what? g o a t e d, fucking goated brother," he claimed. his girlfriend next to his gasped. "this is so embarrassing. meine isse itne acche gaane sunaye and he likes ishq hai!" she complained.

"baby no, ishq hai is literally so good!" lando says. "it's fucking overrated. like yeah it's a good song but it cannot be goated when sajda, o rangrez, yeh tune kya kiya, bheegi si bhaagi si, chaand sifarish exists!" she exclaimed.

"you know what let me pull up my playlist," she said, opening up her spotify. "also it's mainly love songs wali playlist which i listen to almost daily. like the ealry 2000s and abhi wale. toh mujhe koi bakchodi nahi chaiye ki arey kun faya kun kyu nahi hai," she warned. "actually most of the songs in my playlist are goated." lando makes a face at her words.

"see apna bana le, not so goated. arijit singh have better romantic songs than this so not goated," she said. "agreed," lando chimes in. "zaalima, not sure you guys decide," she said. "i mean it's good but not goated good," lando justifies.

"ajab bi, mast magan, tujh mein rab dikhta hai, fucking goated." "no! tujh mein rab dikhta is not goated," lando argues. "like the other one is goated but not the rab song!" he added. "loud and wrong," she shook her head. "rangisaari," she announced. "not goated," they said in unison.

"raatan lambyian, fucking goated," she proclaimed. "you know yeah. it's you need it injected into your veins kinda songs," lando says. "heer ranjha, ishq wala love, not goated."

"okay the goated ones now." "main agar kahoon, kalank title track even luteron ka lootera version, khuda jaane, chaand sifarish, tere naina, o rangrez, teher ja, haule haule, rang jo lagyo, bheegi si bhaagi si, ye tune kya kiya, and sajda," she listed.

"these all are goated," she proclaimed. lando chimed in regularly with hmms and nahs. "i still believe ishq hai is above all," he states. "fuck off!" she rolled her eyes. "just accept that ishq hai is better," he says. "sajda is literally THE goated song," she insisted.

[entropiasgift]

Mi headcanon de Aleria mientras le revientan el templo y le parten a los paladines en dos:

Están partiendo palaDINES EN DOS EN EL TEMA DE LOS DRAGONES AHORA SÍ SE VAN A MORIR TODOS

[perfectly-m1saligned]

K!nktober day 6

Following @dreamlandcreations prompt list. Day 6: reunion sex. You can find all the stories on my Wattpad as well. Toodles!

(NSFW: MDNI!! Reader's discretion is advised)

Simon Riley x reader

(Boyfriend!Simon) (Jealous!Simon)

cw: oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampied

word count: 2680

a/n: later post than usual, spent the day with my boyfriend so I didn't have much time to write

68 days, 9 hours and 23 minutes, that’s how long Simon had been away for. Not the first deployment he’d been on since you started dating, but definitely the longest. Days seemed never ending, your nerves wrecked by your concern for him, restless nights spent in your shared bed, holding one of his t-shirts to your chest, in vain hopes that his scent would soothe you enough to allow Morpheus to take you in his arms. Sure, you still went on about your days, keeping yourself busier than usual, staying overtime at work, dreading coming to an empty home; it just didn't feel the same

The first week was fine: you had your space, more privacy - Simon was surprisingly very similar to a velcro dog whenever he was home - and you spent that time pampering yourself. The second week was a little lonelier, you started to miss Simon more, not hearing from him, and having no one to talk about your day to when you came back from work. By the end of the first month, you had less energy, not as motivated to go on about your day, always under the weather. Your friends forced you to go out with them, take your mind off him, but it wasn’t easy to not be worried when you knew your boyfriend was in bumfuck nowhere, on the other side of the world, and you weren’t able to receive any updates about his condition.

You didn’t know when he was coming back, every detail about this operation of his being highly classified. You understood why many people in his field decided to never have families, and you had so much respect for those army wives, so devoted to their hero husbands, who somehow managed to not have a psychotic meltdown every time they left. Either way, the joy of having them back was unmatched.

It was a rainy night, the kind of night that makes you want to cocoon yourself in blankets with some warm tea and do nothing. Something on Netflix played on the TV, the heat from your mug of tea making the warmth seep through your skin and soothe your muscles. Suddenly, the screen of your phone lit up, an unknown number appearing on the screen. You hesitated, but ultimately decided to slide your thumb over the screen, bringing it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, lovie,” a familiar voice greeted from the other side. “I know this isn’t exactly the most romantic way to announce that I’m back, but it’s raining bloody cats and dogs ‘ere, so the buses home were cancelled. I ever had some flowers for you, those blue ones you like, but they got drenched, the bloody things.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, chuckling at his words as you suppressed a sob. He was back, and the joy you felt was unmatched. “Damn storm, eh?” You tried to jest, blinking away the tears. “Don’t worry, Si. I’m on my w- why are you calling me from a public phone?” You asked, getting up from the couch to fetch your shoes. “Er…I might have gotten a little…agitated, when they announced that all buses were going to be cancelled. But a very sweet lady- Marjorie, yeah?” You heard him ask the most likely 80-something years old next to him. “Yes, so, Marjorie here gave me her phone so I could call my very beautiful girlfriend.” You snorted a laugh, shaking your head. “Does Marjorie need a lift?” You asked, grabbing the car keys and your purse. “Oh no, her son-” A pause. “Benjamin is coming to get her. Drive safe, baby, it’s not like I can go anywhere.”

The drive was surprisingly short, since no one in their right mind was trying to drive in the storm, especially not this late at night. Once you got to the bus station, you saw a, very tall, familiar head of dirty blonde hair, and that damned scarred smile you had fallen in love with. The moment Simon had climbed inside the car and threw his duffle bag in the backseat, you just couldn’t hold back tears anymore. “Hey ba- woah, woah, easy there, girl.” Simon chuckled, encircling your waist with one strong arm when you basically threw yourself over the central console to hug him. Sobs wrecked through your ribcage, your tears quickly soaking up the collar of his t-shirt. “I missed you so much!” You cried out, your broken voice muffled by the skin of his neck, your face buried in its crook. “I was so worried, I didn’t hear a thing from you, I was always nauseous, I-”

His warm and soft lips soothed your nervous rambling, his large hand cradling your face, rugged skin holding you with unexpected tenderness. You immediately relaxed into the kiss, finally feeling his familiar taste after so much time. His thumb stroked your cheek, keeping the kiss going for another few seconds before he pulled back and left a chaste peck on the crown of your head. “Hey,” he whispered, voice smooth like honey. “I’m back, okay? All in one piece. And I missed you so fucking much, y/n.” He kissed you again, and the sweet moan that rose in your throat made him groan. “And I really, really need you to drive us home as fast as you can so I can properly show you how much I’ve missed you.”

When you crossed the threshold to the lobby, Jackson, a new guy that had moved into your apartment complex just a month ago, raised his hand to say hello as he was grabbing his mail. “Hey, y/n-” His face fell the moment your 6’4”, 250+lbs, totally not jealous boyfriend appeared behind you, a steely glare in his deep brown eyes. “Jackson!” You greeted back, a wide smile on your face. “This is Simon, you know I’ve told you about him. I just picked him up from the bus station, he just came back from his deployment.” Jackson looked pale, and like he was very much going to pee his pants. “H-Hi…”

“Good evening.” The saccharine grin on Simon’s face betrayed the death threat in his voice, and Jackson quickly scurried away up the stairs. “Do I need to ask who the fuck is that?” Simon asked with a raised eyebrow, peering down at you. “Nobody, really,” you scoffed dismissively, punching the button up for the lift. “Jackson moved in a month ago, he lives in Mrs. Robinson’s old apartment. He helped me unload the groceries a couple times, he’s alright.” Nothing but a low rumble came out of Simon, as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

“Another man was in my house?” Simon asked, a menacing hint in his voice as he leaned forward, closing the height difference between you and him. You stared up at him, wide-eyed, unable to utter a single word. “Another man touched what’s mine?” He asked again. “N-No, Simon, I-” He clicked his tongue, his lips now a breath above yours. “Looks like I was away for too long, and you need to be reminded of who you belong to.” The moment the doors opened, a squeak left your lips when he picked you up effortlessly, hoisting you up on his shoulder like a caveman and carrying the two of you down the corridor.

He retrieved the keys to your flat from the back pocket of your jeans, the lock clicking open. Simon tossed his bag on the ground, still holding you, then made a beeline for the bedroom. “S-Simon, I can explain,” you kept repeating, your voice nervous and high-pitched, knowing what was about to come. You groaned, the air being kicked out of your lungs when your back hit the mattress, Simon’s body immediately following after, the bed dipping under his weight as he snaked between your thighs. “Oh, darling, I think this reunion is going to be the perfect opportunity for you to remember who’s boss here.” He purred, planting his palms flat on the bedsheets on either side of your head, claiming your lips in a searing kiss, definitely more aggressive than the sweet one you’d shared in the car.

His fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of your jeans, hastily sliding them down your smooth legs, smiling against your lips when you released a shaky whimper. “Calm down, pretty girl,” he whispered, a hand creeping under your t-shirt, cupping your breast through your bra. “Just make sure to scream my name extra loud tonight, yeah? I think Jackson needs to know who’s the only one that can fuck you.” His fingers pulled down your bra cup, warm thumb sliding over your sensitive nipple. “And I fuck you pretty fucking good.”

You were pretty much sure that you were drenched by now, the sight of Simon being jealous doing something to you that you couldn’t quite explain to yourself. “I missed my jealous bastard.” You quipped, lifting your head up a couple inches away from the pillow to steal a quick kiss. “Not jealous,” he corrected sternly. “It’s called being territorial, because you’re fucking mine.” You smiled, cupping his face with both hands. “Just yours, Simon,” you murmured reassuringly. “And I wasn’t the only one who missed you.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, a moan leaving your lips when he collected your panties on one side, sliding a finger between your slick folds. “Mhm,” he hummed. “I can tell. Don’t worry baby, we’re gonna take very good care of her too.” Simon climbed off the bed to undress, and you quickly stripped out of your t-shirt and undergarments. When he crawled back onto the bed, he hoisted your thighs on his broad shoulders, letting your legs hang off his back. “It’s so good to be back.” He purred before he dove in, his flat tongue lapping up at your weeping hole, drinking you like a man finding an oasis in the desert. The sweetest sounds of pleasure fell from your lips, while Simon produced the most obscene ones from between your thighs, stretching your weeping hole with two long digits, pumping his fingers in your needy cunt as he sucked on your engorged clit.

You were tugging at his hair, a squirming mess wiggling about on the bed as you pulled him down on you one second, then tried to push him away the other, the stimulation making you go crazy, reducing you to a babbling, pathetic little thing. His strong hands were secured on the back of your thighs, firmly keeping you in place and restricting you from any unwanted movements. You were rotating between “Simon”, “oh fuck”, and “right there” every other second, and Simon drank in your needy moans like he did the juices leaking from your sweet, soft pussy. He only stopped when you unravelled around him, an orgasm wrecking through you and leaving you breathless.

He raised his hand, sporting a victorious grin, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal, looking prouder than ever. “Such a good girl.” He purred, giving you one last kiss before propping himself up on his elbows and pushing himself off the bed, only to position himself back between your legs. You saw him spit down on his hand, before he started to slowly stroke his length, his fat cock ready to ruin you, already oozing with precum and twitching in anticipation. “What-” you tried to say. “What?” Simon cooed. “Just because you already came once doesn’t mean we aren’t finished, love. Plus-” he teased your entrance with his tip. “We’re just getting started.”

Inch after inch, his heavy cock stretched your soaked hole, collecting your recent release onto his length, a growl rumbling deep in Simon’s chest as your walls clenched around him, adjusting back to his size after months of distance. “Oh, Simon…fuuuuck…” you cried out, slim fingers fisting the pristine bed sheets as he buried himself deep inside you, now kissing shy of your cervix, balls tickling your ass. “That’s it,” he moaned. “That’s the good girl I’ve missed, y/n. You still take me so fucking good.” He slid a hand under your head, cradling it as he captured your lips in a feverish kiss, tongue delving deep into your mouth, exploring its familiar warmth.

You clawed at his back the moment he started to pump his hips, leaving red crescents on his already scarred skin, legs wrapped tight around his waist, heels pressing down on the back of his thighs, keeping him deep within your gummy walls.

“I…f-fuck, I’ve missed you.” You cried out against his lips, chest heaving with ragged breaths as he thrust with purpose, soft, guttural moans arising from his throat. “What about that Jackson guy?” He growled, his teeth catching your hoop earring and gently tugging at it. “I’m sure he would’ve loved to ease your concerns, hm?” In a different circumstance, you would’ve rolled your eyes at his words, but his cock punishing your cervix was making it kinda hard to be annoyed at him right now. “N- I would’ve never-”

“I know you would never, baby,” he reassured you, although his deep strokes said otherwise. “But I think he needs to understand that you-” A hard thrust. “Are.” Another. “Mine.” And another. His words were punctuated by his harsh thrusts and your screams, and you were pretty sure you had drawn blood, nails digging into his back, making him hiss. “S-Simon, please…” You pleaded, hot tears lining your eyes, heat quickly coiling back up in your stomach from the overstimulation.

Simon pulled out, a sigh of relief leaving your lips before he grabbed you by your waist, manhandling you as he flipped you on your stomach, lifting your hips up to put you in doggy before he lined himself back, pushing into your weeping, sensitive hole once again, stripping another cry out of you. A big hand splayed onto your lower back kept you pinned to the bed, the bed sheets grazing your nipples, the friction adding up to the stimulation, making you roll your eyes back into your skull. You buried your face in the pillow, biting down on it to muffle your screams. Simon pressed his chest to your back, reaching under you to circle your swollen clit with his forefinger, making your screams raise in volume. “Hush, Hush, baby…” he whispered, his breathing laboured. “Come on…I know you can do it, just one more for me, yeah? I know you can take it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, y/n, be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

His goading words were your undoing, your squirt coating his lower abdomen as you came one more time, screaming out Simon’s name like a prayer, hot tears lining your cheeks as the overwhelming orgasm crashed through you like a merciless, powerful wave. Your walls squeezed him so tight Simon met his release as well, hot cum spurting out of him in thick ropes as he unloaded himself inside of you. His hips stuttered from the sheer force of it, and he gulped, breathing heavily as you both rode out your high.

You were completely wrecked, flat on your stomach, feeling your mixed juices leak out of your hole once Simon had unsheathed himself. He quickly ran to the bathroom, dampening a towel under some lukewarm water, coming right back to the bedroom to clean you up, his touch surprisingly tender after the rough session. When you were all nice and clean, he climbed back onto the bed, putting a strong arm over your limp, and spent body to pull you into his side. He gently manoeuvred you so he was spooning you, nuzzling his nose into your hair, pressing it to the nape of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, mixed with sweat and after sex pheromones.

You cuddled up to his chest, a tired hum leaving your lips, your eyelids feeling impossibly heavy. “That was…that was some reunion.” You said, your voice weak and feeble. Simon chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “Told you I had to properly show you how much I had missed you, baby,” he said. “And I’m on leave for the next three weeks. I’m not done with you yet.”

•This is an original work of fiction, please do not translate or share on this or any other platforms without credit•

[purplesimmer455]

Later that night at the Hecking-Feldman-Chen-Liao household, Megan takes Emily with her to visit her older sis Mia in Brindleton Bay. She and her wife Tess are giving each other space as they figure things out in their relationship, so she didn't come with them. While Megan hugs her oldest nephew Morgan, Emily hugs Megan’s sister, her auntie Mia. "You've gotten so tall, Emmy." Mia says, hugging Emily tightly. Emily grins, hugging her auntie back. "I know." She says.

Emily sighs as her auntie smooths back her hair and gives her a concerned look. "Everything okay?" Mia asks quietly. "Yeah, it's just my moms." Emily murmurs and Mia nods, glancing at her sister. Megan is talking to Morgan and looking cheerful but her eyes look so tired and her smile doesn't fully reach her eyes. "I'll talk to her," Mia says to Emily, who gives her a grateful and relieved smile and another hug.

Megan and Emily head inside, and Megan goes to see her niece Kristina, or Tina as the family calls her, and her youngest nephew Owen. Megan blinks back tears as Owen snuggles into her, remembering her own three babies at that small stage. She gets a lump in her throat as she thinks of Tess, how amazing of a wife she is, and how happy they were when they got married. Now, they're arguing all the time, and she and Tess are both so exhausted and tired. Megan knows it's her fault, she fell for her ex Iseul and let it get to the point where she was emotionally cheating* with Iseul. She snaps back as Owen asks her to play with him, and she smiles. "Sure, nooboo." She says.

[eggsnatcheskneecaps]

Hi Bucharest and Ilfov (and other close by locations) based Romanians!

People are planning everyday protests against Călin Georgescu from 19:00 at Universitate.

If you can, go.

The police has been civil and cooperative as far as I've heard, even removing somebody who showed up with a Bible.

Update:

Update 2:

"‼️Mesaj de maxima importanta‼️

Se apropie ora 19:00, ne vedem din nou la TNB‼️

S-au vehiculat informatii cum ca nu se mai tine manifestul, acestea sunt eronate!! Ne vom strange in fiecare zi pana la alegeri, see you there‼️

Acesta NU este un protest, este un manifest pentru democrație, un manifest pentru informarea cetatenilor despre cat de nociv pentru societate este un regim fascist!

ACESTA ESTE UN MANIFEST:

1. PASNIC! Tot ce vrem este sa ne spunem nemultumirile, exista toleranta 0 pentru orice fel de agresiune!

2. FARA ORGANIZATOR! Nu avem pe cineva care ne repezinta, asta spuneti de cate ori vorbiti cu politia sau presa, oamneii pur si simplu au iesit in strada.

3. CARE NU ATACA O PERSOANA ANUME! Nu suntem acolo ca sa defaimam pe cineva, luptam impotriva unei ideologii politice pentru o societate democratica si ATAT!

dar!!

- "nu exista organizator" oricand vb cu presa sau politie

- if police violence, fie ne strangem toți armloc, fie dispersare daca dau cu gaze, but fyi they were really nice, they work by order and the order is to protect us din ce pare.

-nu-i lasam sa ne disloce. (worst case scenario)

- for extra safety puteti purta masti daca nu vreti sa va apara fata

- legat de legionari care sa se tina dupa noi, sa comita acte de violenta: avem niste contacte ig working on it

- incercati sa lay low inainte si dupa, pancarte insemne ca sa nu fiti usor de reperat and stick to places cu jandarmi and most importantly impreuna.

- be aware of ur surroundings, nu lsati oameni sa mearga singuri cu politia, filmati daca e ceva.

- again "theres no organiser", "s-a spus la protest sa venim azi"

- daca vreti sa reprezentati studenti si sa fie asta un statement puteti sa va organizati niste pancarte si sa stick together as a group.

- being aware of ur surroundings also means sa verificati cat de cat oamenii din jur, daca chantuiesc, cum se comporta, cum arata mici simboluri whatever sau semne care fac sa para ca cineva nu e de acord cu ce se jntampla/ vrea sa disturbe protestul.

- daca vedeti ceva dubios sau se intampla langa voi anuntati jandarmeria/people u trust

Pentru cine doreste sa participe astazi la manifestare acestea sunt reguli bune de urmat pentru a fi in siguranță si scopul manifestării"

Please refer to this document for a list of chants during the protest:

Would appreciate if people reblog this version instead

[entropiasgift]

Uy, no me tires de la lengua que puedo hablar durante horas de como Tina es definitivamente una swiftie y su relación parasocial con Aleria es parecidísima a la que tendría con Taylor, he dicho.

Catherine, Called Birdy (2022)

[rubywolffxxx]

Hijo desconocido (Lando / Charles / Lewis)

Resumen: años después de una relación fallida, descubren la existencia de un hijo.

Nota: Lewis no es un corredor que siga mucho fuera de la pista, por ende puede que me equivoque un poco en su personalidad.

Nota 2: uso de ____ (tu nombre)

Masterlist de mi autoría

Shot de Charles Shot de Lando

Lewis

Cuando los periodistas y Lewis no se llevaban bien, y el hombre sentía rechazo por las entrevistas, la aparición de una mujer cambió todo. La buscaba solo a ellas tras las carreras, se abría con seguridad y ansiaba poder verla. Cuando la relación escaló a más y comenzaba a sentirse demasiado serio, el piloto decidió alejarse.

Se sabía de sobra que la relación de Hamilton con el periodismo fue más que tensa en esos últimos meses.

Leves pizcas de racismo y ninguneo por parte de la prensa hacían inmanejable la situación periodística, aún más teniendo en cuenta que Lewis estaba obligado a dar las entrevistas. Quiera o no.

Fue por esa razón que se acercó con la peor de las ganas al área de entrevistas, dispuesto a responder "si, no, no sé".

Pero entonces ella apareció, y con su mejor sonrisa, le hizo una de las mejores y más cómodas entrevistas que tuvo en toda su carrera. Y fue solo el comienzo, porque en cada carrera terminada, la mujer de actitud tranquila lo hacía sentir apreciado, respetado. Y eso era suficiente para que Lewis la tomara como su periodista favorita.

Ese aprecio hizo que cierta tarde post qualy Lewis la invitara a cenar, y ese aprecio rápidamente escaló a interés. Y luego a deseo.

La joven periodista brasilera se había robado su corazón, y por su parte, ella no dudó en entregarle el suyo. Se amaban con locura, y por meses mantuvieron una secreta pero casi obvia relación. Cualquiera que viera las entrevistas entre ambos lo notaban, esa obvia tensión. Pero nadie decía nada, eran tan buenos ocultando sus salidas y encuentros que nunca nadie tuvo pruebas de ello.

Fue así hasta que alguien los vio salir de un restaurante en su paso por Brasil en el último gran prix. Lewis se preocupó, y terminó de sentir la presión cuando la mujer le planteó la necesidad de dejar de ser escondida. Comenzaba a sentirse incómoda con tanto misterio e incertidumbre.

"¿Soy motivo de vergüenza? ¿No puedes blanquear una relación con una simple periodista?"

"Sabes que te amo... Pero no quiero nada serio ahora".

Y ____ no se haría de rogar, desapareció sin dejar rastro. Incluso del paddock.

—¿Sabes a quién ví hoy? Al amigo de ____.—George miró a Lewis, quien meditaba en su tina de hielo—. Ya sabes cuál, el que se casó con el camarógrafo de Fox Sports hace algunos años.—

—¿Bruno?—

—Si, ese mismo. Estaban instalando equipo en el paddock.—George notó como su compañero se removía en el agua—. No lo veía hace meses.—

—... Si.—

La verdad era que Lewis había estado siguiendo el trabajo del par de amigos periodistas por un tiempo.

Después de cortar lazos, ____ había terminado de cubrir la temporada -claro está que a Lewis no volvió a entrevistarlo-.

Luego se dedicó a conducir un programa de Formula 1 de Fox Sports desde Brasil un tiempo breve y luego anunció su retiro temporal, alegando que tenia "situaciones familiares" que debía atender. No dijo mucho más.

En las redes se habló de su padre, que venía atravesando una delicada enfermedad. Pero nada confirmado. Lo único que se sabía, es que no sabían nada. Y ella solo se esfumó.

Al menos por tres años, hasta esa tarde que George vio a su equipo de siempre acomodarse en el paddock. Y Lewis no podía más de los nervios. Cada vez que salía al patio, su mirada recorría a cada persona que se movía por su campo de visión. La buscaba a ella. No la encontró, pero si al famoso Bruno.

El camarógrafo caminaba junto a su pareja, charlando sin mayores inconvenientes. El detalle a destacar era el pequeño niño sobre los hombros de Bruno.

En un principio Lewis pensó que la pareja podría haber adoptado a un niño, o que se trataba de algún familiar. Pero entonces apareció ____, y el niño se desesperó por ir a sus brazos.

—Mamá ya esta aqui, Nono. No te preocupes.—lo estrechó entre sus brazos, llenando su rostro de besos y arrancándole risas desesperadas.

Mamá...

Lewis sufrió un escalofrío.

—Estuve preguntando y dicen que su programa de Fox volverá al aire, mañana es el primer capítulo.—

George volvió a los cuartos con toda la información recopilada. Lewis le pidió ayuda, y el piloto amante del chisme no pudo negarse.

—Dudo que nos entreviste a nosostros.—Lewis miraba algo distraído por la ventana, notando que la mujer almorzaba unos pisos abajo, en el jardín—... ¿Viste al niño?—

—¿Al pequeño morenito de rulos que tiene la edad aproximada desde que la viste por última vez y luego ella desapareció?—George frunció su rostro con fingida confusión.

—Yo también lo pensé, pero no puede ser... ¿Por qué no me dijo nada?... ¿Por qué lo trajo justo ahora?—

George se encogió de hombros, sin muchas intenciones de teorizar sobre algo tan delicado como lo era un posible hijo.

—Deberias hablar con ella, de forma casual... Y no asaltarla con preguntas sobre un hijo que ni siquiera sabes si es tuyo.—

—Comienzo a pensar que sí lo es... Tengo el presentimiento.—

—Hay moros en la costa.—

Un Bruno muy poco disimulado se arrimó hacia su amiga, soltando aquello en su oido. ____ no se inmutó mucho, en su lugar, solo asintió. La mujer siguió cuidando el cabello del niño, aplicándole una loción y desenredando sus rizos con todo el amor maternal que tenía.

El camarógrafo pellizcó la mejilla del niño con cariño antes de comenzar a alejarse, escapando del evidente momento incómodo. Lewis llegó a la pequeña mesita donde la mujer merendaba, sin despegar la mirada del pequeño sentado sobre la mesita con los piecitos colgando, moviéndolos vagamente.

—Hola.—soltó sin más al notar que la mujer no se dignaba a mirarlo. ____ finalmente levantó la mirada hacia él.

—Hola, Lewis ¿Qué tal la tarde?—volvió la atención al pequeño—. ¿Disfrutando del solcito? Nosotros también.—

—... Me da gusto ver que has regresado.—

—Si, ya iba haciendo falta... ¿Podrías dejar de verlo tanto? Vas a ojearlo.—

—¿Y qué es eso?—

—Cuando adultos cansados o con sentimientos negativos miran mucho a un niño, le transmiten esas malas vibras y después les cuenta dormir o están molestos.—

—No sabía que eso existía.—

—... ¿Qué diablos quieres, Lewis?—____ dejó los rizos del pequeño, mirando al hombre cansada—. Si sigues dos segundos más aquí, te volverán a inventar rumores. No quieres que te relacionen con la simple periodista ¿no?—

—Este niño es mio.—soltó sin más, y por la postura de la mujer, lo confirmó—. ¿No es así?—

____ se relajó, acomodando al niño para que Lewis lo apreciara bien.

—Lewis, te presento a mi niño: Bruno.—el pequeño rió animado al escuchar su nombre—. O Nono, como nos gusta llamarlo en casa.—Lewis se sentó en la silla vacía, mirando con atención al pequeño—. Me enteré de la existencia de la pequeña patata a las 4 semanas de romper contigo.—

—¿Por qué no me dijiste nada?—

—"no quiero nada serio, hay que terminar esto. No estoy listo para una relación".—citó de memoria—. Si no querías blanquear algo tan normal como una novia ¿Qué sería de un niño fruto de eso? No, Lewis. No iba a pasar un momento de mierda.—

El pequeño miraba con curiosidad a su padre, sintiendo una atracción innata por él. Extendió sus manos hacia el piloto, quien las tomó con cuidado entre sus dedos. Y entonces Lewis murió.

—Hola, Bruno...—La mujer se rompió un poquito al ver como el rostro de Lewis se iluminaba con los gestos del bebé, mirándolo con cierta fascinación—. En honor a tu amigo, supongo.—

—Estuvo conmigo durante todo el embarazo, me apoyó siempre... Era el detalle mínimo que merecía.—____ lo miró con curiosidad—. ¿No vas a enojarte?—

—No sé qué sentir en este momento.—su voz era suave, pero su rostro conflictivo—. Por supuesto que me molesta el hecho de que me hayas ocultado algo así... Pero entiendo el porqué. La verdad... No sé cómo habría tomado la noticia en ese entonces.—

La mujer pasó la mirada del niño al piloto, intentando averiguar qué diablos podía decir.

—... Cubriremos el fin de semana con Bruno y Lucas. Estaremos quedándonos en los cuartos de las instalaciones... Si quieres, y te parece bien, podemos arreglar para que tengas más tiempo con Nono.—Lewis la miró de inmediato—. Lamento haberlo ocultado... No te impediré tener contacto con él, si es lo que deseas.—

—... ¿Puedo cargarlo?—la mujer sonrió apenas, asintiendo enseguida. La idea de verlo cargar a Bruno en brazos le causaba intriga, pues durante años se hizo la imagen mental.

Lewis deslizó las manos por debajo de los brazos del niño y lo alzó, apoyándolo enseguida contra su pecho. Y sintió una sensación indescriptible.

Pertenencia. Calidez. Amor...

Lewis creía ser capaz de no volver a soltarlo nunca más.

—Es como mágico ¿No crees?—____ lo miró con ternura—. Es como tener un pedacito tuyo en brazos.—

—Un pedacito tuyo.—respondió sin pensarlo demasiado, haciendo que la mujer se sintiera extraña—. Y mio... De ambos.—se mantuvo en silencio un momento, hasta que finalmente la miró—. ¿Están libres en la noche?—

Lewis se paró más que nervioso frente a la puerta de aquel departamento, y no precisamente por la más reciente carrera.

Habían acordado una cena, para que la mujer le contara un poco sobre todo lo sucedido esos años. Y puede que sea solo por el tema del bebé, pero Lewis no podía evitar pensar que se trataba de una cita. De esas citas escondidas que tanto esperaba los fines de semana. Tocó finalmente.

En cuanto la puerta se abrió, un conocido aroma atacó a Lewis.

—¿Spaghetti?—miró con una pequeña sonrisa a la mujer, quien asintió enseguida.

—Adelante, pasa.—El hombre entró al departamento, sorprendido de lo grande que era—. Los cuartos del paddock son muy pequeños, por eso alquilamos un departamento.... Éste lo comparto con Bruno y Lucas, pero hoy salieron a cenar.—

—Ya veo... Es bonito.—caminaron hacia la sala, y el rostro de Lewis se iluminó al ver al pequeño en un pequeño corralito—. Hola, Bruno.—

El pequeño que miraba distraído los peluches colgantes sobre su cabeza, volteó al escuchar su nombre, y no tardó en reír al ver a Lewis.

—Puedes cargarlo si quieres, de todas formas, ya casi esta la comida.—____ pasó por su lado, acomodándose del otro lado del corral—. Nada de vino, supongo ¿Jugo de manzana?—

—Ya lo sabes, si.—Lewis la miró, notando la sonrisa que le regalaba.

El hombre cargó al bebé, comenzando a hamacarlo vagamente. Comenzaba a adorar el perfumito a bebé, lo calentito que se sentía y los balbuceos constantes que indicaban la necesidad de querer comenzar a hablar.

____ terminó de acomodar la mesa, y entonces llamó a Lewis a cenar. Sentó al niño en su sillita, y se acomodó a uno de los lados de la mesa cuadrada. Lewis se sentó del otro lado.

—Spaguetti con salsa de champiñones... Era la cena de victoria.—el piloto miró a la mujer que dejaba el plato frente a él.

—Ganaste hoy ¿O no?—____ se sirvió su plato—. Felicidades, por cierto.—

—¿Observaciones sobre el desempeño?—

La mujer se congeló por un segundo, pues recuerdos del pasado llegaron a su mente. Siempre solían discutir sobre la carrera en las cenas secretas, debatiendo sobre la parte técnica del asunto y como Lewis se había desarrollado en su performance.

Pero ahora se sentía extraño. Toda la situación era rara. Más ninguno de los dos pensaba arruinar eso.

—... Fernando corrió mejor.—

—¡Siempre dices eso!—Lewis la miró divertido—. Y siempre queda abajo.—

—Ah, disculpa señor Pole.—____ mezcló el puré de verduras para el bebé—. Pero me preguntaste por desempeño, no por posiciones... ¿Quieres intentar?—le ofreció el platito de comida.

Cualquiera que viera la escena, pensaría que se trataba de una familia normal. A pesar de que le dieron fin a su relación, no fue en malos términos, no del todo. Por lo que no había resentimientos como tal. Ambos deseaban formar una familia en el pasado, solo que ____ no quería esperar de forma indefinida por ello. Y era justo lo que Lewis quería.

—Quiero dejar crecer su pelo, asi lo iré acostumbrando a las trenzas.—____ se sentó en el sofá, mirando a Lewis cargar al niño. Se dormiría en cualquier momento—. Pero no tiene el cabello tan esponjoso como tú, es más lacio. Sus rulos son suaves.—

—¿Tengo el pelo tieso entonces?—la mujer rió bajito, llevando su mano al cabello del bebé—. Es hermoso... Sacó mucho de ti.—la vio sonreír.

—Tiene tus ojos... Y se hacen chiquitos cuando sonríe... Es de las cosas que más amaba de ti, asi que me pone feliz saber que heredó eso.—

—¿"Amabas"?—la mujer no dijo nada—... Pues yo amaba tu risa... Y lo sigo haciendo.—

—... No vamos a hablar de eso ahora.—

____ se levantó, tomando al pequeño en brazos y llevándolo a su cuna en el cuarto al final de la sala. Lewis la siguió de cerca.

—Crei que la cena era justo para eso, para hablar.—

—Si, sobre Bruno. No sobre nosotros.—acomodó al niño sobre la cuna, arropándolo con cuidado.

—Una cosa abarca la otra.—

—Claro que no. Son dos cosas diferentes.—

—En ese caso hablemos.—La mujer salió seguida de Lewis—. Hablemos de todo, aclaremos todo.—

—¿Aclarar qué?—cerró la puerta, mirándolo frustrada—. No querías nada serio conmigo, me fui y fin. No hubo nada raro ni extraño. Ahora quiero que mantengas una buena relación con Bruno y ya. Nada más.—

—¿Nada más? ¿Segura?—

—Lewis...—

—No debí alejarte esa vez, pero tenía miedo... Muchos me odiaban, recibía mucho hate a diario ¿Qué quedaría para ti?—

—... Por ti, hubiese soportado lo que sea, Lewis... Y eso lo sabías muy bien.—

Lewis murió un poquito con aquello...

—Serías novia del piloto más odiado de la grilla.—

—Sería novia del piloto más lindo, amable y dulce de la grilla. Y padre de Nono... Pero creo que ya es tarde para eso.—

—No, no lo es.—el hombre tomó las mejillas de la mujer, quien sintió como su cuerpo se tensaba por el tacto—. Vamos a intentarlo, intentémoslo de vuelta. Seremos una familia.—

—¿estás seguro? ¿y qué le diremos a todo el mundo? ¿"Ella es mi novia y el niño de dos años mi hijo"?—

—A estas alturas he aprendido... Que me debe importar una mierda lo que digan los demás sobre mi, sobre lo que hago y lo que amo. Lo único que debe importarme es estar junto a la mujer que amo, ese niño de ahi que fue fruto de ello... Y comer pasta con salsa de champiñones cada vez que gano.—____ sonrió, posando sus manos sobre las que presionaban sus mejillas.

—¿Me darás entrevistas exclusivas en mi nuevo programa?—

—Te daré lo que sea que me pidas, corazón...—

Al otro dia, luego de la carrera, ____ entrevistaría a Lewis en su programa. Lo último que esperaba era una descarada confesión.

"¿Y si mejor tú le dices a tu público la gran primicia? Sobre mi hermosa novia y el hermoso niño que compartimos..."