#again. its a joke and i get that. just a joke that is hard to reconcile with the experience i had as a homeless 10 year old

[vettelsvee]

YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACE | Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian Vettel x Pregnant Wife!Reader

SUMMARY: Seb's wife is pregnant, but she hasn't told him yet since she doesn't seem ready. However, after he almost crashed pretty badly during a Free Practice session, she can't help but tell him in not the best way possible ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Okay but can you imagine Sebs wife being pregnant but she has not told him yet. He does some dangerous and bold move on a drive and she gets mad and scared and just some fluff when he finds out :)

WORD COUNT: 1804

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of anxiety, overthinking about Formula 1 crashes (?), pregnancy, Ferrari Seb in general (if you know, you know)

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @herdetectivetheorist @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Hi guys! Finally back to posting fics! This year I don't only want to write more, but also establish some kind of writing routine because I've been dealing with anxiety over Christmas for some personal problems family related and found out that I missed distressing with writing. Also, thank you so much for all the support you've been showing me lately! Appreciate it a lot since I wasn't feeling very comfortable with my writing. Let me know your thoughts on this one <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Despite being quite far from the pit lane, you could hear nothing but the deafening roar of the engines, the clatter of tools on Kimi's car, and the curses of the race engineers at the constant stunts Seb had decided to pull during the free practice session.  

Your husband's red car seemed not just to race but to fly around the track. FP2 had started barely twenty minutes ago, but Seb had already come within inches of crashing into the walls far too many times after going off track more often than you could count.  

You couldn't deny that you had loved watching Seb race ever since you met and you learned he was a driver in one of the most dangerous sports in the world. Today, however, luck was not on your side, and anxiety was consuming you. The nausea, uncontrollable on its own, felt even worse than usual. Not to mention, you felt on the verge of a panic attack.  

"Are you okay?"  

You turned at the sound of Riccardo Adami’s voice, Seb’s race engineer. The Italian removed one side of his headset and covered the microphone to ensure the driver wouldn’t hear anything.  

"Yes, yes, of course," you replied hastily, forcing a smile and suppressing the urge to gag as you felt it rising in your throat. "I’m just a bit more nervous than usual today, that’s all."  

"Seb knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry about that."  

You nodded, but as soon as Adami turned his attention back to his screen, you rolled your eyes and did the same.  

"You know, sometimes he thinks that he’s a cat and has seven lives," you muttered under your breath. "Someone should remind him he’s in an actual Formula 1 car, not in a simulator."  

"Don’t worry, I’ll remind him in the post-session briefing," the engineer joked, flashing a smile before immersing himself back into Vettel's driving.  

You didn’t pay him much attention. Once again, you were entirely engrossed in both your husband’s onboard camera and the telemetry, even though you didn’t understand much aside from the fact that he was setting purple sectors, which was undoubtedly a good sign.  

You didn’t know much about the inner workings of the cars, but after so many years with Seb, you knew that the faster his times were, the higher the risks became.  

You were also acutely aware that your husband was pushing himself too hard in those moments.  

You began to tremble slightly, fidgeting with your hands in an attempt to calm your anxiety, but it didn’t work. Instinctively, and trying not to draw much attention, you placed your hands on your belly and prayed that your child wouldn’t give you any scares like his father was giving you.  

"Sector two in purple as well, Seb!"  

Even though the garage erupted into cheers and applause, you remained motionless. Instead, you couldn’t take your eyes off the screen, which now showed your husband’s car in full view.  

Your panic peaked the moment Seb lost control of the rear of his car and went off the track. You swore that if it hadn’t been for the sudden braking, he would have ended up in the barriers with a wrecked car and himself heading to the medical center because the crash would have likely exceeded the G-force limits.  

When Seb didn’t respond immediately, your heart stopped.  

"I’m fine, I’m fine..." Seb finally said in a disappointed tone. "But I can’t say the same for the car. I think it’s more damaged than it looks."  

"Can you bring it back, Sebastian?" Riccardo asked in a tone that was a mix of irritation and disappointment.  

"Yeah, no problem. Coming back. Sorry, guys."  

Just as no one on the team said anything to you, you, who had forced yourself to sit down because your legs were trembling too much and you felt dizzy, also remained silent until your husband returned and got out of the car.  

Seb removed his helmet, revealing an expression that was hard to decipher. You stood up carefully and approached him, trying to keep your composure. Without giving him a chance to say anything, you grabbed his hand and led him toward his driver room, ignoring Britta's protests to talk after interviews were done.  

"It could have been worse, right?" 

Sebastian closed the door behind him and turned to face you. You stood there with your arms crossed, visibly upset. Your glare alone was enough to tell Seb he was seconds away from one of your infamous scoldings.  

The problem? He had no idea why. You had never acted so strangely over something as common as a collision during a race weekend.  

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you exploded, your voice filled with frustration. “Fuck, Seb, can you explain what that was all about?!”  

“What do you mean, what was that? I was... racing, like I always do, babe,” he replied cautiously, still clueless about what he'd done wrong.  

You, however, didn’t know what was bothering you more: your husband’s calm demeanor or the sight of a few Ferrari team members peeking through the window to catch the drama unfolding between the two of you.  

“You were so close to slamming into a wall, Sebastian, that’s what happened!” you shot back, yanking the curtains shut and flipping off the nosy onlookers. “Are you out of your mind or what?!”  

“Come on, love, I had it under control. What you saw on the onboard might’ve looked bad, but I swear it wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed.”  

“Not as bad as it seemed? Are you seriously telling me that?” you retorted, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you think driving is just like playing a video game now? Do you have any idea what it would’ve meant if you hadn’t reacted in time? Do you know what it would’ve meant for me and for—”  

You stopped yourself mid-sentence, refusing to continue.  

You knew your emotions were running wild because of your pregnancy hormones, but you forced yourself to calm down. Getting so worked up would only lead to a pointless argument with Seb and wasn’t good for you or the baby.  

“For who, Y/N?” Seb asked, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his.  

“For... me! Who else?” you replied quickly. 

Sebastian didn’t know how to respond. He’d never seen you so distressed about his racing, and while he tried to stay calm, inside he was battling a storm of worry and confusion.  

“This stress isn’t good for me or for the situation you and, well... you’ve gotten me into,” you said, your voice cracking.  

“Y/N, babe, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about. Fuck, I’m pretty worried about you right now with all this shit, but if you don’t tell me what’s going on—”  

“Damn it, Seb! I’m pregnant!”  

You looked down, tears streaming down your face. You clenched your fists tightly, furious at yourself for revealing such big news in such an emotional, unplanned way.  

Sebastian, meanwhile, stood frozen, his eyes wide in shock at the unexpected news. Slowly, everything started to make sense: your morning sickness, falling asleep all the time, constantly complaining about being tired, and the flimsy excuses you gave for not drinking wine, something you normally loved.  

He cursed himself for not realizing it sooner and for believing your weak justifications about bad leftovers being the cause of everything.  

“You’re... pregnant?” His voice was barely audible, almost afraid to say the words out loud because they didn’t feel real.  

You wiped your tears and sniffled, doing your best to meet your husband’s gaze without feeling ashamed.  

“Yes...” you said timidly. “I wanted to tell you in a special way... you know, by giving you a baby onesie in a box with the positive pregnancy test inside, but...” You shook your head and finally looked him in the eyes. “I thought you were going to die out there today and leave your child and me alone. The thought of losing you, now of all times, just...”  

“You’re really pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”  

You nodded, and Seb couldn’t hold back his tears. He pulled you into a tight embrace and began kissing you tenderly. You melted into his arms, feeling an immense weight lifted from your shoulders.  

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you admitted. “I swear I wanted it to be special, but seeing you out there today, thinking something could happen to you...” Your voice broke again. “I was terrified, Seb, like never before watching you race.”  

“I’m so sorry, love. I really am,” he said sincerely, cupping your cheeks gently and kissing you over and over. “If I’d known, I would’ve been more careful. God, love, this is incredible... This is the best news I’ve ever received.”  

“You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you sooner? You should’ve seen your face earlier...”  

“Mad? That you didn’t tell me sooner?” You shrugged, your insecurity showing despite your years together. Seb tilted his head, understanding this was one of your rare but extreme moments of doubt. “I’m just... in shock. I can’t believe we’re going to be parents...”  

Sebastian hesitantly touched your stomach, and you burst into fresh tears at the tenderness of his gesture.  

“Now you have to promise me something, Seb,” you said, playing with his hair as he knelt before you, leaving kisses on your belly.  

“Anything for you and our little one.”  

“You need to be more careful from now on. Stop thinking so much with your adrenaline and testosterone, and start using your brain more,” you said, trying not to sound too harsh. “I know Formula 1 and racing is your whole life, but I don’t want you risking it when we’re bringing a new one into the world. I’m eight weeks along, and we still have 32 to go assuming everything follows the perfect pregnancy script.”  

Seb stood and gazed at you, trying to convey the calm you both could only find in each other.  

“Love, I promise,” he whispered softly. “For you, for the baby... I love winning, but today, and even more so when our child is born, I’ll have won the second most important race of my life.”  

You frowned, confused.  

“If that’s the second, what’s the most important race of your life then?”  

He chuckled and scooped you into his arms, kissing you again as he laid you both on the couch behind you.  

“The race I ran for so many years to win your heart,” he murmured between slow, deliberate kisses that said more than words ever could. “After all those years trying to get you to go out with me in high school, and now we’re eight months away from having a baby... what else could it be, mama?”  

[orangeblossomsintheair]

oh could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car 💜

BRAND AMBASSADOR | LN4

wc : 3k

an : slowly working through my requests yippie! im not too sure about this but i hope its alr :'>

It was meant to be a joke. Really.

But Lando didn’t know how to take a joke.

For weeks, he’d been pestering you to do a photoshoot with him for Quadrant.

“Brand image, baby!” he insisted, arms flailing as if that explained everything. “Power couple vibes! You and me, absolutely dominating the internet. Imagine the engagement!”

“My manager would actually drop dead if I did a hoodie campaign.”

“Oh come on, baby, just one photoshoot,” he pleaded, leaning so far over the kitchen island that he looked like he might slide right off. “Just a few pics in Quadrant stuff! Hoodie, joggers, maybe the bucket hat if you're feeling spicy-"

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Lando. I’m booked for the next eight months. Vogue is flying me to Paris next week, and Dior wants me in Milan by the weekend. I don’t have time to play influencer in your gamer merch.”

“It's not gamer merch!” Lando gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “It’s- it's… lifestyle! Culture! Gaming and racing fusion!”

“That’s cute,” you said flatly, scrolling.

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even look at the new designs I sent you.”

“Because it’s just another hoodie, baby.”

He gasped again, louder this time. “Just another hoodie?”

“Oh, I’m sorry- hoodie, but make it Formula 1.”

“Wow.” He pointed at you. “I cannot believe this slander. From my own girlfriend.”

“Your supermodel girlfriend,” you corrected without missing a beat.

“And yet, I’m still here, humbly begging for crumbs of attention.”

You didn’t even blink.

And that’s when you heard it. The soft shuffle of socks against hardwood floors.

You looked up just in time to see Lando drop dramatically to his knees in front of you, arms sprawled over your thighs like some lovesick Victorian maiden.

His chin rested on your knee, staring up at you with those big, stupidly pretty eyes.

“Please.” His voice dropped to a pitiful whisper, like he was auditioning for a charity ad. “Do a Quadrant shoot with me.”

“Oh my God, Lando- get off the floor!”

“No. I live here now.” He clung tighter. “Photoshoot. Please, baby. You could be the face of the brand! Imagine it: you in my merch, absolutely carrying. We could finally replace Max’s ugly mug on the website-”

“Lando!” You laughed, swatting at him.

“It’s true! The customers deserve better!”

“You own the brand. You’re supposed to be the face.”

"But you’d look so good in my hoodies," he said, practically drooling at the thought. "God, you in joggers? Maybe one of those cropped sweaters? The internet would lose its mind.”

You stared at him. Long. Hard.

“…Fine.”

His eyes lit up, stars in aquamarine. “Wait, really?”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

Lando blinked. Sat up straighter. “How much?”

You smirked, dragging your perfectly manicured nails through his curls, watching him melt like butter.

“A car.”

His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, interest piqued. Now you were speaking his language. “Which one?”

You almost choked. “Excuse me?”

Lando leaned in, eyes sharp now. “Which. One.”

Oh, he was serious.

You blinked, regrouped, and leaned back like you were simply ordering off a menu.

“LaFerrari.”

Silence.

“The red one. Wine red. Matches my nails.” You admired the burgundy polish glinting under the light. “I’d look good in it.”

Lando didn’t even blink.

“Deal.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?”

“Done.” He stood up, dusting off his sweatpants like you hadn’t just asked for a multi-million-dollar hypercar. “I’ll have the keys for you next week. Photoshoot’s on Friday.”

“Lando, that’s a LaFerrari-”

“And?”

“It’s like… a $3 million car!”

He tilted his head. “Do you want it in the garage or delivered to your place?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re insane.”

Lando leaned down, smirking, and kissed your forehead. “And now you’re stuck with me.”

“…I want full creative control over the shoot.”

“Baby, you can set the studio on fire if it makes you happy.”

“And you’re paying for my glam team.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him, still trying to process how you had accidentally hustled a hypercar off your billionaire boyfriend in under five minutes.

“And I want full rights to veto any photo where I look bad.”

“Oh, baby, you never look bad.”

You squinted. “If I show up and it’s just me in some hoodie in front of a brick wall-”

Lando’s hands cupped your cheeks, deadly serious. “You will be in a hoodie… in front of a gaming PC.”

You slapped his hands away.

—

You were never supposed to take it this far.

The photoshoot was meant to be a joke.

A little bargaining chip to shut Lando up for five minutes. You didn’t think he’d actually pull it off.

Yet here you were.

In a studio. In a Quadrant hoodie. In sweatpants.

And to make it worse, Lando was treating this like he was shooting for Vogue.

“Okay, okay- pause! Can we fix the lighting on her left side? I need more contrast, more mood. She’s selling the hoodie but not the vibe.”

You slowly turned to glare at him. “Lando. I am wearing a hoodie. There is no ‘vibe.’”

“There’s always a vibe!” Lando spun around to the photographer. “Tell her there’s a vibe.”

The photographer, who was clearly riding the paycheck wave, gave you an awkward smile and a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. “Yeah. Big vibe.”

You groaned and adjusted the hoodie, tugging the hood up over your head. “Lando, I walked for Dior last month. Dior. And now I’m here, dressed like a Twitch streamer in front of a gaming PC.”

Lando gasped. “First of all, streamers WISH they looked this good. Second of all, don’t disrespect the setup. That’s a triple-monitor, RGB-lit, water-cooled rig worth more than my life.”

“Yeah, well, it better be. Because I’m dying inside.”

“Okay, can we get a shot of her sitting on the desk? Like, casual, but make it fashion. Maybe holding a controller? No- headset! Baby, put on the headset.”

You stared at him. “You want me to wear a gaming headset in a fashion shoot?”

“Yes. Gamer girlfriend aesthetic. Internet eats that up.”

“I haven’t touched a console since the Wii came out.”

“And that’s the fantasy!”

—

Lando couldn’t stop staring.

The moment you put on the damn headset, he knew he was in trouble.

He’d been so smug, so proud of himself for getting you to agree to this ridiculous photoshoot.

But now? Now he was fighting for his life.

Because there you were, sitting on the desk in a Quadrant hoodie, wearing his brand, looking so effortlessly good that it was like the universe was punishing him for ever thinking this was a good idea.

It wasn’t just the way the hoodie hung on you, oversized and perfect, or the way you pushed the headset into place like you were made to wear it.

It was the thought behind it.

You were wearing his stuff.

And that did things to him.

Very Dangerous things.

Lando dragged a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it, but it was no use.

His gaze betrayed him, sliding back to you as you leaned back on the desk, legs crossed, your smirk telling him you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Lando,” you said, your voice teasing and smooth, “you okay over there, baby?”

He tried to play it cool. “Yeah. All good.” His voice cracked halfway through, and he coughed to cover it up.

But he wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he was hyperaware of the fact that he was growing harder by the second.

Oh, this was bad.

You shifted on the desk, leaning forward slightly, the motion drawing his eyes to your legs before snapping them back to your face.

That cocky little smirk was still there, your stupidly pretty eyes glinting with amusement.

You were enjoying this. Brat.

“You sure?” you pressed, tilting your head.

His voice was higher this time, strained and barely holding it together. “Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”

You didn’t buy it for a second. “Lando…”

“That’s it,” Lando muttered, voice tight, cracking slightly with frustration. “Break! We’re taking a break.”

His words were sharp, a contrast to the usual smooth confidence he exuded.

Without waiting for any response, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you away from the set with a sense of urgency that didn’t match the cool composure he usually carried.

“Lando, what the-”

“Not now,” he interrupted, low and tense, as he pulled you into a nearby storage room.

The door clicked shut with an almost deliberate force, the sound of the lock turning echoing in the small space.

You barely had time to gather your thoughts before he was in your space, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, strained, his hands finding your waist, gripping tight, enough to bruise.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if trying to center himself.

His breath fanned across your lips, shaky and uneven, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster with every breath.

“You’re a brat,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw, yet edged with something almost desperate.

“You’re the one who wanted me in your merch,” you teased, your fingers curling into his hair as you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body.

“Yeah, well…” His hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his fingertips burning against your skin. “Now I’ve got more than I bargained for.”

The words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours.

The kiss was messy, urgent, his lips urgent against yours, like he couldn’t get enough.

You didn’t need to think. Your body responded immediately, hands moving to pull him closer, the heat building.

The press of his body against yours was relentless, hard and desperate, as he deepened the kiss.

His hand slid down your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his waist, while the other traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw.

His breath fanned across your skin, shallow and uneven, each exhale carrying a heat that set your nerves ablaze.

“You don’t fight fair,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, edged with a hunger that made your stomach flip. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his teeth grazed your throat.

Your lips curled into a smirk, your nails raking across his back just enough to make him shudder. The sound of his sharp inhale sent a rush of power through you.

“Neither do you,” you whispered, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his as your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging it higher, your touch skimming over his skin.

“God, you…” His voice broke, his words catching in his throat as he crashed his mouth back to yours.

The kiss was harder this time, almost frantic, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands moved with purpose now.

Demanding, claiming, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your nails scraped against his back again, dragging another groan from deep in his chest, a sound so raw and desperate it made your knees weak.

His hips rocked against you, slow and deliberate, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“Careful, Norris,” you teased, your voice breathless but still carrying a hint of mischief as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. A quiet intensity that you'd seen more than once.

“You’re starting to look a little… well, territorial.”

For a moment, he froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath as if he was trying to regain control.

Then his lips twitched into a sly, almost dangerous smile, one that sent a thrill through you.

“Maybe I am,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word carrying weight. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, making any distance between you disappear.

The words sent a shiver through your spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was something else, something exciting, something that only made you want more.

His lips found your neck again, pressing soft, burning kisses against your skin.

His teeth grazed over your pulse, just enough to send a jolt through you, sharp and unexpected, making your breath catch in your throat.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Everyone’s going to notice, you know. You weren’t exactly subtle when you dragged me off like that.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, but it was dark now, and there was a sudden pressure in his hands as he adjusted his position against you. “Let them notice,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t care. They can see whatever they want.”

The words sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your nails scraping lightly over his back.

—-

When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath.

Lando, however, was already standing in front of you, his hair tousled, his hoodie still hanging off his frame in a way that somehow made it look even better on him than it ever had before.

He bent down casually to scoop your underwear from the floor, dangling them in front of you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, love,” he said, his voice rough and teasing, still thick with exertion. “Don’t leave me hanging. Put these back on before we go out there.”

You shot him a glare, snatching the fabric from his hand and hurriedly slipping it on, feeling the heat rush to your face.

Lando leaned back against the wall, watching you with a cocky, self-satisfied grin. “Still dripping with me,” he murmured, but the rasp in his voice made your stomach flip. You felt your cheeks flush even more.

You rolled your eyes, tugging the hoodie down to hide your body and fix your composure. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with a wink. “Guess that says something about you too.”

The studio lights were still dimmed as you walked back in, legs slightly unsteady. You caught yourself on the doorframe, trying to keep your cool, but the feeling between your legs was still fresh, raw.

Lando followed you, smirking like a cat that had just caught its prey. He leaned against the wall, eyes on you as his grin grew wider. “Fix your hair,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You look like you just got fucked.”

You barely suppressed a laugh, brushing your fingers through your hair and pulling it back into something that at least resembled “done.” “Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered under your breath.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you were still trying to play it cool. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to retort when Lando took a step forward, his smirk never fading, and pulled you close. He kissed you softly, lingering, the kind of kiss that made it hard to remember where you ended and he began.

“Come on,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’ve got a photoshoot to finish.”

—-

Months passed.

The LaFerrari didn’t show up.

Not that you cared. Really.

Sure, it had been a fun little joke—“Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot”—but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.

He said he would but Lando also forgot to stock up on groceries some days so you didn’t take it to heart.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had time to think about it.

Your schedule was relentless: fashion weeks in Paris, Vogue shoots in Milan, fittings for Dior in New York.

You were barely home long enough to unpack, let alone pine after a car.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Until one night, after a particularly grueling flight back from London, you pulled into your driveway and-

You slammed the brakes.

Because there it was.

A LaFerrari.

Burgundy red. Like aged wine. Like sin and velvet had a baby and parked it outside your house.

It gleamed under the porch light, shameless and expensive.

For a full minute, you did nothing but stare, slack-jawed.

Then you slowly got out of the car, leaving your bags in the trunk.

“Lando,” you muttered, pulling out your phone.

You called.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, baby- what’s up?”

“You left a LaFerrari on my driveway.”

“Oh! You got home?” He sounded way too casual.

“Lando. There is a multi-million-dollar car parked outside my house.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s yours. Obviously.”

“…You’re joking.”

“Would I joke about something this expensive?”

“Yes.”

“Fair. But not this time.”

You stared at the car again.

“Are you serious? After months?”

“It takes time to deliver a LaFerrari!” Lando said, his voice way too serious for a man who had just been exposed.

“I had to get it customized, too. Your name is literally engraved on the side. And then there was the whole issue with cargo. Did you know they’re super strict about how cars are transported? I had to make sure it wasn’t gonna get dented, and the shipping company I trust didn’t have any available slots until-”

“I thought you were joking, Lando!”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replied confidently. “You said you wanted a LaFerrari. You said ‘make it red wine,’ so I made it red wine. I also got the seats customized with carbon fiber inserts and-”

You groaned in disbelief, interrupting him. “You literally bought the car, customized it, and shipped it to my house."

Lando blinked, unfazed. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Did you think I was kidding about that part?”

“Yes! It’s a LaFerrari! Who even does that?! It’s absurd!”

"Clearly me.” He paused. “Check the glove compartment.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Suspicious, you approached the car, heels clicking on the pavement. You opened the door.

God, even the door sounded expensive- and popped the glove compartment.

Inside was a tiny Hot Wheels car. A red LaFerrari.

Taped to it was a sticky note.

“Just in case this one wasn’t enough. - Lando”

You stared at it.

You looked back at the LaFerrari, glinting under the sun like some ridiculous, over-the-top love letter.

“…I’m taking it to the Dior fitting tomorrow.”

“You better.”

“…Is this why you were ignoring my texts last week?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you! I was busy coordinating with Italy!”

“Oh my God.”

[ptergwen]

hi ! i had a dream like this so idk if its too specific or anything hut could u write a fluff/angst about reader being in a beach holiday with family/peter, theyre at the beach swimming and being all cute underwater and stuff- peter tries to hold/grab reader and accidentally hurts them bc of his super strength. theyre mad at him for a bit but they make up that night with heaps of fluff, cuddles, words of affirmation-ect. sorry if thats dumb fhdgdgf thank youuu <33

a boy who's jacked and kind

w/c: tba

warnings: a very sorry and sad peter, like two swears

a/n: peep the sabrina reference hehe i had a lot of fun with this one! decided to make it a beach day with friends, i hope that's okay & you enjoy <3

"marco!"

"polo!"

you and your friends scatter around the ocean while peter tries to catch you. you're at the beach for the day, which is exciting because you don't get to go often living in the city. peter pushes through the water with his eyes closed, hands outstretched in front of him. if he catches one of you, he wins.

"marco!"

peter is getting closer to you and ned. mj is the farthest away, deeper into the ocean. she silently signals for the two of you to swim towards her.

"polo!"

you all shout in unison. ned wades through the water frantically, mj continuing to swim in the opposite direction. you're not as quick to pick up on her guidance. you won't be able to make it to the two of them without peter catching you, so you keep swimming the other way.

"marco!"

"polo!"

ned and mj sound kind of far, but you seem to be close. peter follows your voice with a smirk, eyes still squeezed shut.

"marco!"

you can hear peter getting close from behind you.

"polo!"

you look behind your shoulder to see peter nearing you.

"go, y/n!" mj shouts. "run!" ned echoes.

"marco!"

you can't help but let out a giggle as peter gets closer and closer. you leave the water and start running on the wet sand, your boyfriend right on your trail.

"polo!"

peter tackles you from behind, pushing you down and landing beside you. you squeal and land in the sand, hard. it knocks the wind out of you. peter laughs softly and rolls on top of you.

"i win."

your lip quivers a bit, tears pricking your eyes reflexively from the pain of the fall. peter's cocky demeanor instantly changes, going into concerned boyfriend mode.

"baby, what's wrong?"

he catches a stray tear with his thumb, his lips forming a frown.

"why're you crying?"

peter's thumb caresses your cheek. you shoo his hand away.

"i’m not, that just fuckin' hurt. can you get off me?"

peter rolls off of you, watching you get to your feet with furrowed brows.

"oh no, baby, i'm sorry. i just got caught up in the game... i didn't realize how hard i pushed you."

"you have super strength, peter."

you brush the sand off yourself, sniffing back a mixture of salt water and snot. peter's voice quiets.

"sometimes i forget."

"yeah, i know. it's fine."

"but i feel bad." peter stands up. "are you okay?"

he reaches for your hand. you shrug and pull it away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'm fine, pete. just gimme a little while."

mj and ned meet you and peter on the sand. they form a circle with you, peter staying back. his eyes remain fixed on you, filled with worry.

"what happened, you let penis parker win? i thought we had a plan," mj jokes. "yeah, why'd you go rogue? we were supposed to stick together," ned agrees.

"i went the other way 'cause i wasn't gonna get to you guys fast enough, then peter tackled me."

their gazes shift over to peter, who sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

"dude!" ned punches peter's shoulder playfully. "major foul."

"it was an accident," peter mumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

"sure it was," mj deadpans.

peter is looking at you again, but you avoid looking at him. mj picks up on the tension between the two of you.

"hey, you good?"

"i'm kinda annoyed at peter. it hurt when he pushed me. i know he didn't mean to, but still, you know?"

"what a dumbass. come on, let's go get ice creams or something."

you give mj a half smile, throwing an arm around her shoulders. mj flips peter off as you two pass by him. ned starts yapping to peter about building the perfect sandcastle, but he doesn't listen. he's too distracted by his guilt over hurting you.

-

you're sleeping over at peter's later that night. you'd gotten back from the beach a little while ago, and nothing sounds better than cuddling up in bed with him. he had been trying to give you space since the tackling incident, careful not to be too touchy out of fear of hurting you again.

you feel bad for being kind of cold to him. even though you were upset in the moment, you got over it. you miss him being his usual touchy self. it's peter who's been choosing to distance himself.

peter lets you shower first, then he takes one. he finds you waiting on his bed after. you're wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of boxers.

"c'mere, i wanna cuddle."

"you sure?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?"

"i just wanna make sure you have enough space. y'know, after earlier."

you groan.

"i’m serious, y/n. i hate that i hurt you."

"peter," you stand up.

"and i’m sorry. really, really sorry. i’m never gonna let anything like that happen ever again, okay? i wasn't thinking."

"i know, peter. accident's happen, baby."

your arms circle around peter's shirtless torso. he doesn't trust himself to hold you just yet, so he keeps his arms at his sides.

"just because it was an accident doesn't make it okay."

you take peter's arms yourself and wrap them around you. his doe eyes meet yours. you hold his gaze reassuringly, an arm around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek.

"i like that you have super strength."

"you do?"

"yeah. it makes me feel safe, knowing you can always protect me. plus, you've got big arms. that's hot."

peter chuckles, perking up at that.

"sometimes you can't help how strong you are. i get it, pete. it's not your fault."

you nudge peter's nose with yours. peter moves in closer to you, letting out a sigh of relief. he kisses your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment.

"thank you. i love you."

"i love you, too."

you leave a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"sorry i was kinda mean to you earlier. it was just my first reaction."

"no, no. it's okay, baby. i’m the only one who should be sorry."

"stop apologizing. you don't have to be sorry anymore."

"but i am. i’m still really sorry i-"

you shove at peter's chest, making him fall backwards onto the bed, mimicking the way he tackled you earlier. you straddle his lap and take his face in your hands, giggling. peter carefully holds you on top of him by your sides. you lean forward so you're face to face.

"i forgive you."

you connect yours and peter's lips. he happily kisses you back, smiling into it.

tags (old taglist y'all sorry, gotta make a new form!):

@idkeverythingistakennn @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @mystic-writings @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @elllebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs @winchestersgirl222 @sunf1ower-vol6 @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @marvelgurl @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @sapphic_romanoff @itsjanedeluca @lomlbuckyy @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana

[sulfies]

"Its 5 am"

A soft heat landed on Desmond's shoulders, he pulled the corners of the blanket closer.

"I know, I know... I should be asleep" He sighs scooting the chair back and leaning to look at the ceiling. "I will... sooner or later. I just, I really rather it be "later" "

"And I rather not see you like this."

He finally looked at Altaïr with a weak smirk.

"Oh I know just how you like to see me-" "Desmond..."

Desmond sighed. He was tired, exhousted, sad and many more, all of it just wanted to explode out of him but he just didn't know how.

"I..." He mouthed the words he wanted to say. "Just..." Leaning forward he put his head on his hands. "I don't want to... I-"

"You are scared..."

Desmond blinked hard, refusing the tears that wanted to fall.

"Why?"

He sucked in a hard breath. He was not going to cry about a problem of his own making.

"Desmond... Whatever you are scared of will not ha-"

He felt like a child throwing a tantrum. "God, I sound so stupid I know, but what if it does?" He wiped his face and looked back.

"Your body will do it for you if you don't."

A deep breath and he tried to speak more calmly to control the tremble in his voice. "I realize that... but if it gives me 1 more hour here..."

"Here? Alone in your room, miserable? I get why-"

"No you don't get why..."

Desmond turned back to the table, trying to carve a hole in the desk with his gaze alone. "You don't get why, Ezio doesn't get why, Connor doesn't get why! It is, literally, impossible for you guys to get it, okay?"

"At least let us try? But you won't even talk to us about it!" Altaïr was getting frustrated.

"How can I even start? I don't even know where I can begin. I barely even know this shit works myself!"

He just didn't want to blink and for it all to be gone, he did not want to see that grey, soulless place ever again. He hated it back then, he hated it even more now.

"If I sleep I might wake up" He shook his head, what a profound sentence he came up with.

"come again?"

"I-I don't want to lose this... Whatever this is and I don't know if I will! İts a gamble each time I go to sleep"

"Why would you lose us?"

A chuckle slipped past him "Come on Altaïr, why do I even have you guys now? For fucks sake I died! You were born thousands and thousands of years ago and now you are here! Same with the others! Nothing makes sense nothing ever feels real and I am scared it actually is not!" He dug his nails into his palm, he wanted to bang his head against a wall.

"I am so scared, in one second I will be finally happy and breathe, then the next second I will be back in that place. There is nothing there Altaïr, nothing. No sounds, not even your own breathing. At least the last time they gave me an island and... And 16 was there to keep me company but now if I go back I am scared that there will be nothing."

He took a breath, then another since it was getting harder to.

"I fucking died so, so, so many times. As you, As Connor and As Ezio. From age and my own mistakes. Then I died myself and sometimes I wonder if I actually did or if this is a sick joke and I am still in that goddamn machine that is sucking me for all I am worth just to keep me going!" His fist banged on the table, he wanted to wreck something. "Or maybe Juno is playing with me, showing me a piece of heaven before she spits on my corpse"

Two cold hands wrapped around his own, taking his gaze away from the desk he saw Altaïr with his brows in a concerned burrow, which was becoming a common expression he had whenever he was with him. "I will never know Altaïr and it scares me. For all I know you guys could be programs to make me spea-"

"Okay enough" The hands on his squeezed harshly, Altaïr moved his hands to pull Desmond's chair to the side so he could speak eye to eye.

"You cannot talk about my being like I am not here Desmond." He took a breath to collect himself as well "You are right, I might never understand but you don't get to tell me what I am when I am right in front of you, you don't get to tell me I can't try to understand. I feel real to myself and you feel damn real to me" His hand holds Desmond's cheek.

"but if you keep up like this I'm not sure how long you can keep yourself from going insane to the point of no return. You can't live like this." Desmond's lips became a thin line. "I don't want you to live like this, I know me or any of us being here is not normal but nothing ever was. An orb, holding mind-controlling powers and secrets to the time itself is not normal, Ancient beings leaving a message through us to you is not normal. Do you think I, myself don't think this is too good to be real?" His other hand squeezed Desmond's knee, he sighed and continued, at least Desmond was listening for now.

"Nothing ever is normal in the life of an Assassin and if it was I would never have you. So don't take this away from me by deciding that this-" he gestured between them. "Is temporary"

He placed a small kiss on Desmond's salty cheek only to hear a sob spill out of the man. "We are all riddled with the same fear, yours is..." He could not even begin to comprehend from what little Desmond had told them.

He drew him into a hug "I wonder many nights if this is a last dream from the apple for keeping it safe, If it will end one day before I rest forever in my tomb filled with books."

Desmond was crying now, silently as he could but Altaïr could feel the damp patch on his shoulder "And if it is a last thank-you gift I rather spend every grain of that hourglass with you by my side, stop torturing yourself. If it is a limited time we have together, enjoy it with me" A shakey breath and a sob slipped from Desmond as the damp patch grew.

Altaïr held him through the shaking and pain, in a sick way he was happy to at least hold Desmond after so long and have him for just himself for a little while.

He was lucky, unlike Desmond all of them chose death on their own terms and tasted it slowly. Not with a bang and flash of lights but with a much-needed rest, in a slumber.

"Come, Ill kee-"

Oh...

He realized the hug had much more weight to it than before.

With a slight smile, he sighed in relief, Desmond's body made the choice for him it seemed.

"Ill keep guard for you Desmond, alright?"

He smiled softly and brushed the passed-out man's hair. Sometimes he forgot that while Desmond lived decades in their body he only got to see two of his own life.

He dragged Desmond more into himself and lifted him up softly to walk to his room.

If needed to be he would gladly take the burden of being awake forever to put him at ease.

[cxvii666]

"GIRLS"

college au! denki kaminari x reader

cw: recreational drug use, bad language, sexual tension, wet and messy public handjobs, men whimpering

wc: 2.5k

loosely inspired by the dare's album "what's wrong with new york?"

girls that's mean just for fun, i like girls who make love, but i like girls that like to fuck

THAT'S WHAT'S UP

"she doesn't like you, y'know."

denki gasped semi-sarcastically, like its obvious that you don't like him and anyone with eyes can see that but it still shocking to hear out of his best friend's mouth.

jirou turns to him with barely concealed mirth in her eyes and she looks up from her phone where she'd been texting momo, asking for her whereabouts.

they were at a party, a sleazy rich kid house party, one of momo's friend's sisters' or something like that. the kind that involved lots of expensive alcohol, shitty bass music, and sweaty hot rich kids that did too much coke and no survival instincts or a general sense of humiliation. one guy had already thrown up twice, two girls had passed out, someone's boyfriend had punched someone else and denki was absolutely fucking loving it.

he and jirou had smoked some good shit with hanta after pregaming and had enter the party at its pinnacle, completely crossfaded. the good kind that makes you feel like hot shit, like you're the baddest on the planet, and that you could fuck anyone you wanted if you tried hard enough.

that was about two, maybe three, hours ago.

he hits the vape he stole from jirou and scrunches his face at her.

"where even is momo?"

he's chosen to dodge the topic. the topic of you.

he only knows you as one of momo's ex talking stages. you run in the same social circles mostly and somehow, you're still amicable, friendly infact, its some weird sapphic thing that denki doesn't get. how you're friends with jirou, denki really doesn't get. like how can jirou be friends with her girlfriend's ex-situation?

well that's what he thought.

until he met you.

and wow.

you're across the kitchen from him now, chatting it up with some guy you just met, and he's laughing at something you said because you have this effortless wit and charm about you that everyone in your vicinity can sense. it rolls off you in waves, your aura is so attraction, so is your hair, and your eyes, and your smile, and the dress you're wearing-

and now you're looking at him, or maybe at jirou, yeah never mind, you're looking at jirou, and before he knows it his best friend is whacking the back of his neck.

"you're staring," she teases in a singsong voice, fucking annoying habit that she stole from him and just for that he snatches her drink from her and downs it in one gulp. "hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

denki fake gags slightly before smiling all teeth "you never answered my question, when's your girlfriend getting here?" jirou rolls her eyes at his obvious diversion from the topic "i want her to make me that weird drink she makes with the tequila.... and i'm pretty sure i left my lighter in her car."

"momo won't care y'know." she looks at him with full seriousness and nods in your direction. "you should be more worried about how you're gonna talk to her."

denki says nothing in reply, only sighs and send jirou an affirmative hum so that she knows he's not being pissy and ignoring her.

his eyes cut to you again, the guy you were talking to has gone back to the friends he came with and you're pouring yourself a drink.

and jirou was right, by the way. at first you didn't like him, he laughs too loud at his own jokes, bums cigs off of everyone and everytime you've seen him in passing, at parties like this or nights at the club when jirou's band plays, he's always chatting someone up.

girls of all kinds, tall girls, small girls, girls that do drugs, girls with dicks, blondes, brunettes, gingers, white girls, black girls, brown girls.

you wondered about him. there's gotta be something that he's doing right, because from what you've heard from momo his cool guy persona is simply that, a persona, and he's actually a massive loser who spends most of his time playing pokemon go or holed up in his room watching anime. so how he can pull so many baddies, most of whom speak of him fondly, is a mystery to you.

but damn, he is cuteeee.

like cracked, horny, stoner, twink that would probably beg for it cute.

and you're obsessed.

that's the real reason why you've been throwing shade at him all night, making sly biting comments, getting into dumb senseless arguments, you're playing with him, working him up slowly, and he's enjoying it.

but contrary to popular belief, denki is not the sleazebag everyone thinks he is. sure he's had a few flings with a few friends, drunken nights never spoken of again, and there was that one time where a girl he slept with lied to him about having a boyfriend. but like, aside from that, he's not like horrible.

and momo is his friend, and idk, isn't flirting with her ex kinda weird, and won't you think its weird that he's flirting with you, and omg, what if you think its weird??, and you actually don't want anything to do with him, and this highly charged game made of mean banter and heated stares, is actually just a game and he's been reading all the signals wrong, and you actually don't want him, and he's gonna have to jerk off so hard tomorrow morning to forget about you because the look you gave him after you called him a senseless idiot for spilling vodka on the counter early was sooo hot and he-

"you're spiralling."

jirou rolls her shoulder and starts riffling through her jacket pockets, probably looking for the vape denki has concealed in his right hand. she pauses and looks at the blonde before sighing. "momo's here. she's got your light." she gets up off the counter and pauses. "and maybe drink something before you smoke, you look like you're about to vom all over the floor or somethin'."

"you dirty bitch, i am not nervous, i swear you're so-" jirou leaves him in the kitchen with a resounding cackle and goes out into the main house to find her girlfriend.

the sound of jirous laughter calls your attention over to denki, who's attention you already had, he'd been counting the piercings on your right ear, and a smirk creeps onto your face, as you pick up your cup and make your way over to him.

"do you have a staring problem?" straight to the point, your voice so close to his ear it makes him jump. "huh, oh, what?" he splutters "staring? me?? why would i be staring at you, of all people?"

the red on his cheeks makes you snort and you regard his fake non-chalant lean against the kitchen counter.

"well that's what i'm trying to work out," you say as you inch closer practically caging him in, still keeping direct eye contact.

his breath hitches slightly as his eyes lock onto your own, determined to win whatever game it is your playing, despite the twitch in his jeans.

you're so close you practically taste his breath, he smells like bud, expensive foreign perfume and bubblegum, your hands splayed either side of his hips creep closer to him.

denki can hear the gulp he takes when your hands finally make contact with his body, your thumbs just slightly grazing his outer thighs, he thinks he might actually have a fucking heart attack or something. he keeps his eyes on yours, but trying to centre himself in your gaze seems to have been the wrong decision to make because the way you tilt your head and smile so innocently, like you don't know what you're doing, is sending him to space. and it's your smile that makes him blink and drop his eyes entirely to the curve of your lips, just for a second.

you notice immediately and let out an obnoxious 'ha!' before reaching up and plucking the joint that he had tucked behind his ear, and yeah it was part of the fit, the pink rolling paper matched his shoes, before taking a step back from the blonde.

he responds to your laugh with a scoff and a roll of his eyes which makes your smile grow even wider. you hide this as best you can by taking a sip of your drink effectively finishing it. he looks at you, amber eyes regarding you curiously, like he's awaiting instruction.

"you wanna go out back?" you smile cheekily brandishing your prize, "go smoke this baby before jirou gets back?"

he sniffs and stands at his full height, stuffing his hands in his back pockets before nodding to the exit. and you lead the way to the garden with a giggle.

"it's not my fault. you're the poser walking around with a joint and no lighter." as you finally stamp out then end of the joint. you'd just had to beg some snotty marlboro gold smoking guy for the use of his lighter. "honestly it was more of an accessory than a zoot, you didn't even roll it well."

"you're so mean to me," denki flushes, honest to god his voice sounding more like a whimper then anything else.

you scoff at him. you're not mean, this guys just an idiot, generally easy to make fun of, and has the most adorable reactions whenever you take the piss out of him. you can't help yourself. he's so easy practically throwing himself at you, demanding all of your attention all night and then whining like a kicked puppy and retreating back to hide behind jirou when you don't give him the response he's looking for.

"oh, i'm sorry," you ask soflty and the change in attitude gives him whiplash. "are you alright, denki?" he's growing crossed eyed as he watches your lips getting closer to his.

his knees buckle "yeah, just uh, my iron deficiency."

you pull away to raise your eyebrow about to make a sarcastic remark when he surges forward and captures your lips in his. your hands travel up the back of his neck, and the way you thread your fingers through his hair makes him groan into your mouth. you push against him effectively pining him against the cold stone wall, and he just takes it, lets you control the momentum of the kiss, like he's in the middle of a storm just being thrown around and carried by the waves, and he's fucking loving every second of it.

you swear once you break for air, your lips plump, and wet, and juicy, and soft, and he's already diving back in, he needs more of you. more of your taste, fuck, you taste so good, your lips are so soft and syrupy against his, he feels like he's melting into to your hands.

"careful," you murmur directly into his ear and he keens as you grip his hair tight and tilt his head back to give provide acces to his bare neck.

"please, please, please, please, fuck."

you tug harshly on his blonde locs, his eyes fluttering open at the feeling as you hold his gaze. "what do you want denki? use your words."

he can't think of how to reply, not with your right hand itching at his scalp and your left hand drawing circles on the skin above his waistband. "oh god, i don't- i don't even know- i- fuck."

your left hand has dropped, finger only slightly grazing the front of his jeans but it's enough for him to whine so prettily in your ear and cant his hips upwards into your palm.

"fuck, please-"

you cut him off by mashing your lips into his, he accepts gratefully pouring every inch of his desire into your mouth.

"you're so desperate."

he's nodding, he wants you so bad, your hand feels so good even through the layers of fabric covering his most sensitive parts, but its like his skin is on fire, and the only thing that can put it out is your touch. his hands run along your torso, his finger only just brushing over your nipples, enough to make you gasp into him, as he wraps his arms around your body to deepen the kiss.

as good as this feels, the sounds he's making, the whimpers leaving his lips as he grinds into your hand, are increasing in volume and your entirely conscious of the fact that you are outside, out the open, for anyone to hear or see.

you hiss out his name, but just hearing your voice turns him on more and you have to grip his face with you fingers for him to stop moving and pay attention.

"if you want me to keep going," punctuated by a squeeze to his jaw, "then- look at me when i'm talking to you, then you're gonna have to shut up." your gaze is so intense he's nodding before he's even fully comprehended the words you've said.

his pretty amber eyes roll back into his head as your hand finally slips underneath his boxers and you grasp his hot, sticky, dick with your cold soft hands. "oh wow," you snicker, "you're so messy."

your words make denki whine, silenced by a stern look before he pouts. "what so you can talk but i can't even-, oh fuck-" you squeeze him, the weight heavy in your hands.

"yeah, because you're leaking all over my hand."

he holds in his whine this time cussing under his breath and looking at you. his pretty face obscured by strands of hair all wild and messy sticking up at odd angles. his lips are pink and swollen, drool threatening to spill out of his mouth, cheeks flushed.

"that's not fair," he hisses at you but you remain largely unbothered by his attitude as you thumb his tip. "you're teasing."

"i'm not doing anything, you're the one that can't keep it together."

"i-" he starts but you pick up speed and cover his mouth with your free hand so he's free to buck and whine all he wants.

"look at you, are you gonna finish like this? i've barely even touched you."

its like your words are directly fuelling the grind of his hips, he humps against you furiously, drool spilling all down his face, soiling that hand as well. like he can't help but make a mess in all directions.

you can tell he's close when his eyes start fluttering and his body starts twitching crazily.

your hand drops from his face, quickly wiping the drool onto his tshirt before snaking your way back up and applying light pressure to the base of his neck.

"thank you, thank you, thank you-"

that does it for him as he comes with a whine of your name, followed by jagged breath and the crazy stutter in his hips.

you give him a second to catch his breath before you start tearing into him about the mess he's made and about how he better not have gotten any cum on your dress.

"always complaining about something, i swear," he rolls his eyes and before you can bite back he slips your cum soiled fingers into his mouth and runs his tongue along each individual finger before giving a hard suck. you watch him mouth slightly agape, and the pulsing heat in between your thighs makes itself apparent to you.

"you are such a slut." he grins mouth full and you press down on his tongue. "you wanna get outta here?"

heyyyyyy guys sorry ik i said i'd do part 3 of dealer reader WHICH WILL COME but this was a random burst of inspiration i got last nigjt when i was omw back from the last sesh of the season before all my friends fuck off out of london but and one of my mates is super obsessed with the dare and made us listen to the whole album while we were out on the field ANYWAYS IK U DONT CARE but this was so yummy and juicy to write so i hope u enjoyed 😝😝😝😝😝

[nnmmxnxmxmx]

my long thoughts on this shit take of a reddit post, going basically line by line, as a previous inniter and a dream hater:

1. If dream was just expressing confusion on double standard rules i would understand, no it’s not fair (as much as i hate him) that he’s getting called slurs online- the issue is he seems to never address this, if this is something he dislikes why hasn’t he decided to quote tweet these posts he’s talking about? instead he attacks Tommyinnit fans because they… don’t like a trumpie okay weird choice.

2. further more- if Dream understands the hurt from using slurs without caution/ as an insult, surely that would have crossed his mind before posting? surely it would have an impact on his actions? i’m not doubting he’s felt hurt by being called rude names online, but if it’s actually something he takes a moral stance against i can’t fathom why he would decide to use them in retaliation.

3. “Obviously it's the internet being disingenuous, but that doesn't completely invalidate anyone that might be upset by it.” honestly asking here if anyone can explain what he means by this? cant work it out

4. Again, this post would be fine if dream was just expressing discomfort at being called slurs online- if he was actually involved in the drama before inserting himself and Tommys fans had been attacking him with derogatory language this would make sense. But Dream is the one who decided to call a group of millions the R slur, and as much as he’s trying to argue he’s autistic and therefor thought it was okay i just don’t buy that. He’s trying to paint himself as a victim of circumstance- “people called me a rude name, and because i’m apart of the group that name targets i thought i could use it back” but that’s not how “reclaiming” works. You’re just firing back with the same hateful language that you claim to know what it feels like to be hurt by.

5. “internet police” is interesting when Dream is the one getting involved in other people’s drama

6. Additionally, calling tommy “poor tommy” just feels mean- he’s trying to prop himself up as a victim and Tommy as someone who manipulates himself into being perceived as one. But this doesn’t make sense because even during peak dsmp no one got more shit that Tommyinnit- he was getting cancelled every week! There’s never been a time on the internet where people have perceived him as someone to treat with Kid gloves

7. Also adding the “lmao” on the end of seeing he never meant to be ableist feels very inauthentic, hard to believe someone feels remorse for fucking up when they are actively laughing at the idea that they fucked up

8. As a previous Tommyinnit stan- and someone who currently enjoys his tweets on my tl from time to time i KNOW we were, and i’m sure some still are, annoying. Tommy stans had poor standards when it came to boundaries and would harass streamers about Tommy constantly. That said, having your defence of calling a whole group of people the R slur being that.. they were annoying? that’s strange.

9. i just don’t care that Tommyinnit is promoting stand up while bullying bad people. sorry.

10. Last line is probably the scariest in it’s implications, i made a post before but it really feels like this is a gateway into some semi alt-right shit making its way into Dreams community. The seeds are there with him talking about how unreasonable twitter is, and lamenting how they are taking his joke too seriously. Just saying if we see a Kick deal in the future i wouldn’t be suprised

[moonxpalace]

You have any Iris pregnancy headcanons, please?

Sure! here they are:

Iris doesn't find pregnancy itself too tiresome. She can live with not sleeping on her back, nausea and weird food cravings. But the worst thing? The hormones. She cries over everything. Once she dropped a fork and said "sorry." And then she realized she said sorry to a fork and cried.

Ash knows Iris can take care of herself, as she has mad acrobatic skills and can navigate through forests without a compass. When she becomes pregnant he can't help with being overprotective of her. Iris thinks he goes too far when he insists of holding her hand when she goes down the stairs.

The doctor had a hard time with finding out the gender during the ultrasound. No matter how much the doctor tried to make the baby move, it was only turning its back on them ...

When they got home, Ash and Iris decided to guess the gender. Ash is 100% sure it's a girl, while Iris thinks it's a boy. Iris justifies it with "since I mostly sleep on my left side, it's a boy. If I slept on my right, it would be a girl. That's what the Elder at the Dragon Village says!" Ash thinks this is ridiculous ... But Iris ended up being right when Oliver was born.

Ash and Iris are invited on some Champion event when she is around 8 month pregnant. None of her elegant dresses fit her, so Iris cries again. She insists that she looks like a big Wailord. Ash tells her lovingly that in that case, she's the most beautiful and majestic Wailord ever ... and Iris just cries even more. Ash doesn't get why she is upset ...

Once Ash had to get up at 2 AM to drive to Viridian City because Iris was craving baby carrots dipped in strawberry yogurt

Ash and Iris didn't have a "Baby shower" or "Gender reveal party" because they found these kind of parties to be pointless and pretentious.

Ash's Dragonite is the most excited about Iris' baby bump. She can't help but hug her more than she usually does

Iris' Dragonite pretends he doesn't care about the baby. But he is actually a big softie and makes sure to obey Iris 100% while she is preggo (to avoid stressing his trainer out)

Iris is close to Delia, but they become even closer during her pregnancy. Delia is super excited about her role as a grandma and will drop everything to come visit Ash and Iris if needed.

Ash is worried that Iris doesn't ask him to do enough. He knows pregnancy isn't easy, and that Iris is stubborn and likes to do things herself. Therefore he does everything she asks him to do - even vacuuming the whole house (which he normally hates)

Whenever they discuss names, Ash and Iris end up joking around. Ash insists on calling the baby "Ashton/ Asher/ Ash jr." if it's a boy, and "Ashley/ Ashlynn" if it's a girl. Iris says that's stupid, but she's laughing and that makes Ash laugh as well. In the end Delia is the one who suggest "Oliver" - and they think it's perfect.

At a point Iris insists on an all natual home birth with no pain relief. Ash is totally against that (What if something goes wrong?? Wouldn't it be much safer in a hospital?) Later on Iris agrees

Iris refuses to be absent from work. She still accepts battling requests and attends Champion meetings most of her pregnancy (as long as she feels fine)

The birth was harder to Ash than to Iris lol

Welp, this became a bit too long. I had more ideas but let's stop here for now!

Thank you for the ask 💕

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

sorry. I just saw another video with some guy being "hurr durr Japanese has two syllabaries plus kanji so why don't they just ditch kanji and one of the syllabaries and start putting spaces between the words" idk man why does English retain spelling patterns from a bajillion different languages instead of reforming spelling so that everything looks the way it sounds. that stuff fossilizes language history that no one's thinking about otherwise, it's really hard to convince a whole country or multiple countries full of literate people to change everything about the way they read and write, and, yeah, it does carry semantic value that you're underestimating the importance of as well. shut up. I don't ever want to hear about this again

[sandinmybed]

some of yall are incapable of simply saying you dislike something. you have to dress it up in social justice language and make it into a Moral Issue rather than just owning and acknowledging that it's not your taste even though other people like it. which is fine btw.

[ikilledamanforthisurl]

really fun parallels between Minami & Nishida in which one guy who wants most of the fights he gets into generally has a bit of a dodgy win/lose ratio, meanwhile the other who has only ever welcomed one single fight in his life is the more violently competent

[reel-fear]

MIKE BLOCKED ME ON TWITTER FOR ROASTING HIS DUMBASS RESPONSE TO THE GRAPHIC NOVEL STUFF!!

grown ass man scared of the 19-year-old queer being mean to him over his public meltdown more at 8.

[hanakihan]

On side note

Salieri still as a Avenger class servant, but his mechanics and overall vibe is similar to Seele and Veliona

Watch poor musician being for some reason summoned in Avenger class and having no idea the fuck is happening only to have a really angry and protective being floating around you who wears your face but has insane bloodlust.

Antonio Salieri and Gray Man being semi separate beings who are bound to be one in soul, and they’re weird unstable hybrid of ruler and avenger in one class

[astranauticus]

the rwd season 4 qna inspired me to start thinking about college au headcanons except a lot of these are gonna be really specific to my school and y'all are just gonna have to deal with that <3

Kyana feeds some of the school cats. she would feed all of them if she could

Dani smuggled Plug (the scrawniest black cat you've ever seen) into her dorm room illegally and somehow management hasn't caught her yet (based on a true story) (Kyana visits to see Plug all the time)

Finbar keeps an updated tier list of every canteen in the school with breakdowns of the best stalls/dishes for each

A senior from the school of engineering once said to me 'all the engineering people dress like rats cuz our classrooms don't have aircon' (context: tropics) anyway that's Dani

Kyana would probably be involved in a lot of freshman orientation events from second year onwards. she just likes talking to the new kids and giving them advice like she would be the kind of orientation group leader who'd get messages from her freshies asking about all kinds of random nonsense because she's made sure they know they can always contact her with questions

VR-LA is The Guy you go to for textbook pirating resources

(this is more of a 'wouldn't that be funny' but VR-LA is just Veerle's discord handle)

Docent is the name of VR-LA's old laptop that broke down so he gave it to Cassimere (computer engineering major he met once at a networking event) to fix except Cassimere got everything off the hard drive and then somehow managed to fuck it up Even More so he had to get a new laptop (and named it Emi)

Roy has gotten food poisoning from his dorm meal plan at least once (based on at least one true story)

The heap trio + Mandy would be those friends constantly playing majong in the dorm lounge and if all the majong tables are taken they just play in one of their dorm rooms on a towel to dampen the tile shuffling noises (it was Mandy's idea)

Every morning Dani goes to the drinks stall at her faculty and orders one iced coffee to the point where the stall owner starts preparing an iced coffee whenever they see her approach (based on my true story)

Roy would be one of those people who goes clubbing every other week and every time he tries to drag the rest of the heap trio and Egan almost always goes and Dani would go if she didn't have a good excuse but always begrudgingly. anyway Roy would always be the only one having a good time until Egan gets drunk enough to start having fun

Finbar actually uses the dorm kitchens instead of just buying canteen food and it always makes the hallways smell really good

Vhas also uses the dorm kitchen sometimes but like. one time i walked into the pantry on my floor and someone had left cut sweet potatoes and 2 eggs in an inch of water in a pan on the stove. that's Vhas

Kyana's constantly applying for overseas exchanges and international summer/winter school programmes. the world is large and she wants to see it!

Maxim's the definition of a hall phantom. you know he lives on your dorm floor because you pass him by in the hallways sometimes and literally nowhere else. sometimes you're not convinced that he actually exists

VR-LA and Maxim's friendship stems from them being from wildly different faculties (VR-LA's in STEM, Maxim's doing anthropology so arts/social sciences) but also having lots of weird interests they cant really bug anyone in their home faculties about

Elyse is in student government and every once in a while Finbar receives a series of angry texts about the newest idiocy she's had to put up with

MR-SN and AS-TR start a stargazing club together. other notable members include AS-TR's girlfriend E-DN, MR-SN's friend C-RA (the one who always volunteers to carry the heavy ass telescopes) and MR-SN's friend K-LB who he pestered into coming to fix one of the wonky scopes even though K-LB's actually in electrical engineering but he's the only engineering person MR-SN (an arts student) knows

oh and of course VR-LA joins because he genuinely just likes space (developing a crush on his club chairperson was not on his bingo card)

Kyana and E-DN were MMA sparring buddies at one point which is how she found out about the stargazing and joined immediately

honestly i can probably think of more but this post is fuckin long LMAO

[pezpenser205]

the main reason i know im not femme in the slightest is bc i cant comprehend why anyone would Ever want to be feminine. i can understand neutral leaning fem, but the idea that people are born wanting to be feminine is appalling to me personally because femininity always felt like imprisonment and torture. it was and still is a restraint. a training weight i was forced to bear. i cant fully empathize or understand anyone who wants to be more feminine because i have never and will never want to be more feminine out of anything other than pressure or insecurity. im most comfortable being gender neutral, hairy and disgusting in old gym shorts and stained tshirts no matter how much insecurity it causes me. i dont care. im never dressing up all pretty for anyone elses benefit ever again. and i assume this is how people who want to be feminine feel about masculinity to some extent. if thats the case im super glad we could trade because holy moly

[the-acid-pear]

The thing about the painter analog that people don't get and makes them hate it is that at heart this isn't a serious horror story. This is pure gore not only for the sake of gore but for the sake of camp. Once I was talking of to my dad laughing at the guy who had his face sanded off and he was like yeah not new they did that in Jason already 🙄 which was later reinforced by UrbanSpook admitting this is inspired by those old 80s slasher which should tell you everything.

I'm saying this bc i saw a video pairing it with Playground and the incest game and while I don't know the second I watched a video on playground once and the difference is that that book is trying to tell a story and say something on top of the gore but the later makes it hard to care. Which is kind of the issue another "gone too far" piece of media my beloved A Serbian Film runs into where you cannot take yourself too seriously if you also want to show over the top violence or you'll lose the audience.

OF COURSE there are exceptions like Hostel, Saw and 😏 the human centipede ☺️ (cocksucker for that movie and it's more serious points, though it barely counts bc the gore is very tame save for in 2) and I couldn't exactly tell you what's the difference between what makes them work and what doesn't but still.

But I'm getting off topic I'm not here to say which media is good or not I'm here to point out the painter is not a serious story that asks you to care for the characters it's a over the top schlocky gore that asks you to go GROOOOSS or laugh at the over the top brutality it presents. Which is very standard in horror.

[mechazushi]

I had to teach myself editing software on my phone *Racking shotgun noises* Applaud Me.