#and when I see ANY of that so called ‘development’ linked to any of these ships

[rafesbangs]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ rafe has always loved the way lace looks on berry!reader, so she surprises him with something he'll really enjoy.

warnings: MDNI ! 18+ ! dom!rafe (duh), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, use of the nicknames 'baby' and 'rafey', teasing, and strong language.

a/n: this marks the beginning of the berry!reader fics! yay! insp by this p!link actuallyyyy +++ i was listening to gibson girl by ethel cain and i definitely think that's the vibe of this oneshot pretty much summed up. berry!reader definitely put it on sometime during the 'surprise' ;)

cameron development had recently under gone a lot of changes upon rafe becoming a more prominent figure than his father, taking over his duties didn't prove to be easy though.

he'd been spending a lot of time in meetings, on job sites, riffling through real estate paperwork and what not. you hadn't really seen him in days but in all fairness, its not like you weren't busy either.

busy shopping around that is, rafe didn't mind how much you spent and you knew that but you had an idea. he's been working so hard recently and you've been out spending all his money, why not give him a fun surprise.

it was pretty late at night, rafe had endured a meeting that lasted several hours too long and he was dying to see you at this point. thankfully it would be the last of the painfully long meetings for a while.

you were busy up in his room, prancing around in this new deep red lacey lingerie set. complete with mesh lace trim hosiery and garters. you'd decked the room out in a few candles you could find and sprayed yourself with your perfume that also happened to be rafe's favourite on you (he always swore you put pheromones into it).

the front door of tanneyhill slammed shut downstairs, you could hear rafe's loud sigh and you wanted nothing more than to run down the stairs and greet him but you knew for the surprise to be good, you had to stay where you were.

he started calling for you, walking around all over downstairs waiting to see you turn around a corner to say hi, but nothing. when he wasn't getting the hint you finally leant over and grabbed your phone.

posing yourself on your side you quickly snapped a pic of you only your lips biting your finger and everything below until your waist showing. you knew that would get him to finally come upstairs.

you could hear the ding of his phone getting your photo on messages, "baby?" he mumbled, obviously he hadn't opened it yet but when he did you could also hear a drawn out groan and his footsteps heavily coming up the stairs.

"jesus girl, what're you doing to me-" he sighed, finally pushing the door opening and stopping at the sight of you, lying there on his bed with candles illuminating his bedroom.

"holy fuck," his jaw was practically on the floor and you swore you could see drool beginning to drip from his mouth.

you smiled, "hi rafey." and he just about lost his mind.

he threw his blazer off and slammed the door shut, locking it. next to go was his tie which he ripped from his neck and his shoes were flung off somewhere in the room, all while he was holding eye contact with you. he just couldn't look away.

"all f'me, fuck.." he breathed, now kneeling on the bed right in front of you. you looked up at him, seductively, purposefully. your eyes were absolutely screaming fuck me rafe cameron. and all he could do was oblige.

he tore his belt off and began unbuttoning his shirt but couldn't just not touch you for any longer. he reached out and grabbed one of your tits, groaning as he felt the soft lace fabric around your boob.

"are you surprised?" you said sweetly, smiling at him and now sitting up on your knees. he opened his mouth as if to say something but couldn't quite get the words out, so he just nodded, but then immediately connected his mouth to your tit.

you groaned at the sudden feeling and caught his other hand palming himself through his pants.

"rafey... rafe- let me put it in my mouth" you drawled, in that sweet tone you use when you want something. he sat up, leaving only his hand still around your tit but his mouth was again open in awe, "okay... fuck, you're so sexy when you do all this f'me, i'm so fuckin' lucky."

your fingers worked to get rafe out of his work pants and boxers, pulling them down your eyes widened as his length sprang up against his stomach. he watched your reaction with a grin and unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt. you drank up the view of your chiseled boyfriend tearing his tailored long sleeve shirt off his chest, it wasn't your fault he was so sexy. the prominent v-line and huge biceps never fail to make your legs weak, every damn time.

you grinned and gestured for rafe to lay back, so you could easily put his cock in your watering mouth. he obliged happily and smirked as you leant down, arching your ass up as you put one hand under his thigh for support and with the other hand began rubbing the mushroom tip of his huge cock.

rafe was never shy about making sound with you, nor were you with him. he grunted and swore under his breath, tilting his head back every so often as you worked your magic. "got the things you do to me" he sighed deeply as you once again took his entire length in your mouth, nose hitting his pelvis as your eyes roll back.

rafe started bucking his hips a little, practically begging for release. you grinned at him mischievously and connected your lips to his tip again. you stroked the rest of his length, his eyebrows knitting together as his jaw went slack, he tried and failed to stifle a loud moan.

"you're unreal- ah fuck... 'm gonna cum- baby..." he groaned before his cock twitched in your hand and lips, you continued to swirl your tongue around and suck his tip when thick ropes of cum began spilling out. rafe was a groaning mess as you lapped up all the cum spilling out and all over your hand.

finally you placed a sloppy kiss on the tip of his cock and smiled over at him as you sat up again. without a word he got up and grabbed the nape of your neck, taking you down backwards against his bed, roughly and sloppily kissing you.

he now had one hand sliding down your body slowly, gently, you knew he was teasing you, "ugh, rafe.. stop it, stop teasing-" you managed to choke out through his lips. he chuckled against yours, ignoring your request when he finally lifted his lips from yours.

"you're so fuckin' hot.." he mumbled, noses touching and his hand kept sliding down your torso, getting closer to your dripping pussy. "did this all f'me?"

"yeah.." you breathed, your legs squeezing together and your eyes begging for him to just touch you already. you felt butterflies in your stomach, fluttering around on fire. he smirked and moved his face closer, close enough that when he spoke his lips would brush yours, "yeah?"

when rafe pulled up the waistband of your panties you let a gasp out, your eyes wide, staring into his. he slowly slid his hand down into the fabric, still smirking against your lips. he took no time in sliding his fingers over your sopping wet pussy.

"fuck baby, you this wet from sucking my cock?" he teased, sliding a finger into your begging hole. you gasped at the sudden feeling of his long finger and he mirrored your reaction before pressing his mouth against yours, finger still pumping in and out of you.

he took no time in picking up the pace, you were a moaning mess and he adored the way you were digging your nails into the bicep of the hand that was down your panties. he slipped another finger in, the sloppy sound of your pussy was making him rock hard, and you could feel it, only make you more and more wet.

you were gasping for air, trying to hold off finishing on his fingers, "rafey..." you pulled his lips off of yours to grasp his attention, "rafey.. i need you inside me" you finally breathed. as you finished the sentence, you could feel his cock harden and twitch against you.

"do you now.." he said lowly, cockiness was dripping in his tone but you didn't care, you loved making him feel good because damn was he good at making you unravel. you nodded desperately which only made him groan in satisfaction, "the things you to do me y/n"

he licked his lips before tearing your panties down, taking the garters with, you didn't even care if he'd shredded any of it, he'd buy you as many more pairs as you wanted. you reached for the mesh lace trim hosiery but rafe's hand quickly caught yours, you looked at him questionably before he opened his mouth.

"no baby those stay on," he breathed deeply looking down, "your legs look so sexy with that red lace." you just grinned at his approval because of course you were right, he absolutely adores the lingerie.

lastly, he grabs your tits, peppering kisses all over them on top of the lacey bralette you still had on. he gently slid his hands under you to unhook the bra, all while his mouth was still connected to your chest. he slid the bra off and grinned from ear to ear, mouth diving in to put rough kisses all over your boobs again.

you ran your hand though his messy hair as he now travelled up your chest to your neck and your lips, passionately laying kisses on you. you had both arms wrapped around his neck when you felt his huge tip sliding up and down your wet slit.

"you want me inside baby?" he whispered deeply, breath hot against the shell of your ear. you breathed in deeply and nodded, looking down at the way his cock was resting on top of your stomach, it went all the way up to the top of your belly button. "i need words.. cmon baby, you want my cock inside your wet pussy, hm?"

"yes.. god, please rafe." you gasped, now looking him in the eyes. he smirked before leaning back a little and without warning, he slid his entire length into you, all the way to the hilt. you screamed his name and dug your nails into his shoulder blades roughly.

he groaned as he very slowly pumped his length in you, "just rafe's fine baby, this may feel heavenly but i'm no god" he chuckled deeply, grunting through his words. he couldn't believe how tight you felt, but how easily his dick slid into your pussy because of just how wet you were for him.

the pain turned into pure pleasure as he picked up the pace. the head of his cock kissing your cervix while you couldn’t form a single thought, you just felt so full. rafe was determined to make you reach your peak, the twitching of your thighs and the way your moans were getting louder indicated you were getting closer and closer to coming soon.

the way you clamped around his cock made his eyebrows stitch together in pure pleasure. you felt so fucking tight, he nearly lost it when you whimpered in his ear, "rafey, cum inside me, please baby.."

he met your eyes with a grin and launched his lips onto yours, practically eating your face. he was so hungry for your lips as his cock began to twitch inside you, indicating he was about to spill into you at any second.

"if you're sure baby" he breathed between kisses. he continued snapping his hips against yours, even speeding up as he got closer and closer. you moaned, loud, "yes! fuck- rafe, cum inside me, i need you to fill me up."

he buried his face in the crook of your neck and released a guttural groan as hot thick ropes of cum filled your insides. you came undone around his cock, clenching and unclenching as he filled you up, breathless.

both of your movements had come to a stop as he lay there on top of you, his back rising and falling rapidly. "fucking hell y/n.." he breathed, "you're the prettiest thing i've ever seen."

you smiled at his sweaty grin, leaning in and kissing him softly, "i love you rafe."

he kissed you back before kissing your forehead, "i love you too baby."

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[pinkmirth]

KEEPER!

SYNOPSIS! ⸻ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?

CONTAINS⸻ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

MY LOVE LETTER! ⸻ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎

reiner’s your bulking shadow, never trailing too far behind.

he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.

things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.

nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?

it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.

before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.

‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.

reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.

what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.

“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”

you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.

“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”

you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.

reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.

eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.

you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.

but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .

reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.

he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.

you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.

so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.

your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.

it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.

you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.

“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .

he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.

“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.

“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.

“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”

“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”

“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”

right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.

see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.

upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.

upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.

it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.

you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?

the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.

“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.

“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”

in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.

“oh, please do.”

being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.

there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”

“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .

“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.

mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.

“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.

experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.

“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.

“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.

“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.

by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.

reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.

as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.

“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.

“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.

you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.

“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.

he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.

“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.

reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”

not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.

he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.

“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.

“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.

“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.

“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.

reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.

“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.

“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.

“yes, tonight, rei!”

he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—

“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”

©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨��

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P1]

(Yandere × F!Reader)

[Series link]

[Warning: obssessive, workplace/academic discrimination, xenophobia, mention of SA, slowburn, dense plot, not even sure if its dark romance, not sure if its romance at all]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

You knew his type. Rich, spoiled, and never told no. In college, you would see them flocking down walkways in goofy polos, or if there were events, in color-coded suits and ties as if going to their first communion. They were never alone, stuck in bubbles of laughters and champagnes and vape vapors. You were not there besides them. You sat rooted in the library chair, dropping in and out of kickbacks of other students who also never fit into their puzzle of oxfords and high heels. You didn't resent them. You had your own little life. You found comfort in turning it up in the weekend with your fierce eyeliner and fishnet when your bank balance was full, or sitting in your friends' living room greening out on Mexican weed when you were broke.

So when you graduated side by side with them, ordered by names, you didn't feel as if you missed the school spirit. Your ex was chatting up with his crowd a couple rows down, arms in arms with a known rapist. In a sea of them you treaded in your scuffed heels and walked the stadium to your fine, leather-bordered diploma and took a half-hearted photo with the dean before sneaking out early, never to see any of them again. Sure, you missed your friends, but you could always call and catch flights (when your bank balance so permits). The rest of them slipped off your mind easily like vapor.

You moved country. That was the right move. Sure, you could stay in the States and try out a desk job, but you didn't find it in you to belong. Plus, with the recent development of AI  technology coupled with the impending economic recession, you weren't too optimistic about finding a position that lasts. So you packed up and left, missing barely anything. 4 years of your life remained in the tissues your cried into in the dingy airport toilet. You called your family to let them know your ambition. They scoffed, trying to talk you out of it for the last time yet, before their persuasion became discouragement. Before they told you that the corporation needed an heir, and that you were stubborn just like your father was. You turned off your phone and boarded. Your 20s seemed wide open, soaring with you, louder than the plane engine that roared even in your sleep.

3 years later, in your little cubicle in a Japanese high school, you didn't feel like you were soaring anymore. Perhaps your wings got caught somewhere, shredded in the engine just before you landed. You buried your head into piles of notebooks, your red pen gliding. The power to decide who passed and who failed was in your hands, and the soft-hearted nature you carried with you squirmed as you had to mark down zeros and ones. You found yourself smiling at your students and encouraging them, as well as enduring the resistance from the rebellious ones. Little by little, the spark of hope in you matured into a quiet resolution. You learnt to be calmer, to hang your head more, and to speak less of your opinions. In the mirror, you saw a new face.

You pushed on, narrowing your shoulders in the subway, cooking your dinner in your modest kitchen, and packing your own lunch at five in the morning. Sometimes you went out with your coworkers, sometimes you remained indoor. Settling in a monotony as Tokyo raged on with its flourescent storm, you feel, in your quiet moments, as if you were half asleep.

Then one summer morning just before another school year ended, the head of the foreign teacher department walked in. Walking by her was a face you didn't recognize.

"This is Mr. Lukas."

As customary, you stood up and greeted with a polite smile.

"Yes, good morning Mrs. Tahara. Good morning Mr. Lukas."

"I know this is late into the school year", Tahara said, "but Mr. Lukas is the perfect fit for our school. He has plans to stick with us for the next 2 years, so I was hoping he would get the training he needs by trying out at our summer program."

"That seems like a lovely idea", you acknowledged.

"Since you have the most experience in our department so far, and also the only one left since the rest of the team has taken an early vacation as customary for them", Tahara continues, finally building up to her point, "I was wondering if it is not much trouble for you to mentor him this summer. I know that you have said that you would take the summer off this year, but there is nobody else we would trust quite as much!"

You felt a knot of frustration in your chest. After 3 years of dedicating yourself to the summer program, you did finally decide to take the summer off to have some time for yourself. Truth was, you had found yourself growing weary of the monotony in your life which had lulled you into a state of daydream. This summer was supposed to be for you to travel and visit your family. Plus, with the money your had accumulated by pinching your purse, you were hoping to finally fly to LA to meet with a long-term friend you had been dying to see.

But you knew this was not a request. It was an order. Though Tahara was smiling, she was not going to take "no" as an answer. The woman did not climb to her position in this expensive international high school in the heart of Tokyo by being softhearted like you.

"I see", you nodded, the blank smile yet to leave your face, "Very well, then. I will do my best."

Tahara also did not let hers falter when she tried to soothe you, "I heard the staff vacation is to Thailand this year. How exciting, right? It is the 10th year anniversary of our school after all. Tell you what, I will lobby for you the best room there is!"

The pang in your heart did not go away as you chuckled, "Oh, there is no need at all. Please, I am happy to do this job."

"Nonsense", Tahara insists, "Best room there is! Please leave that to me. All you need to worry about is Mr. Lukas."

You bowed your head.

"Thank you very much. I will do my best."

With that, Tahara turns to the newcomer: "Your cubicle is right here next to her. Please get settled in, and she will show you around. You have her full attention for today- I checked, there are no classes today, right, Miss?"

You nodded at the last part. Tahara briskly walked away, leaving Lukas standing in front of you.

You finally turned your attention to him, getting a good look for the first time yet. Lukas was tall, black haired, with a strong nose and freckles. His defined body was complemented by his white button-up and slack pants. The way his body opens up by his wide shoulders and his face held up high told you that he was a stranger not only to this work environment, but to the country as a whole. He still seemed alert, yet to be lulled into sleep like you.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lukas", you held your hand out for him to shake. His hand was soft, and his grip was gentle. You could tell clearly now... he hadn't been a working man.

"Hi", he smiled, "I'm so excited to be here. I'm all yours now, so... lay it all on me!"

American, you mused in your head, noticing his accent and the loud, overly friendly manner. He reminded you of the people you knew from college.

"Of course. Let me give you a quick tour of the school before we get started!"

"Great! It's a beautiful school. Can't wait!"

The moment you and him exited the teacher lounge, Lukas couldn't help but immediately make small talks.

"So... how long have you been working here?"

"Oh, for 3 years now", you replied absentmindedly.

"Woah, that's a long time. To be honest, I just graduated college last December, so this is all totally new to me."

You hummed and pointed out to him the nurse's office, letting him know that he could find assistance there in case of student injuries. Finding it difficult to simply ignore his attempt at a conversation and partially feeling sympathetic at the assumption that he may feel alone in a new country, you picked up the small talk.

"I understand it may feel intimidating at first. I was just like you... moving from an American college to work here is a big change."

"Oh, you were in the States, too? Where at?"

His head turned toward you. He seemed intrigued.

"Yes. I was studying in Texas. X Univerisity."

"So you are smart, then. I was in T University. Your rival school."

"That's a good school, too. What did you major in?"

He sheepishly grinned.

"I was in their business program. What about you?"

You didn't want to divulge more information about yourself, so you directed the focus back on him: "Business? Then what makes you decide to teach here in Japan?"

"Well, I wanted a change of pace... My family, they have a job lined up for me already, and I can come back for it whenever I want. So right now I guess I'm just, like, trying to live my life, you know? Figuring myself out. I thought Japan would be a nice start."

A part of you felt that you could relate to him. Indeed ... if you wanted, you could simply go back to your own family company and work toward inheriting it. But from the way he was talking, it seemed he had a better relationship with his folks.

"That's a great way to challenge yourself", you nodded, now leading him to visit the indoor gym. Your indifference toward him left you with a lukewarm response.

"What about you? You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

It was your turn to look at him now, a bit bewildered. You didn't expect him to show interest in what you do. Most people usually got caught up in talking about themselves, especially with you who knew to ask more questions to evade the attention.

"Oh... well, I guess I've been interested in linguistics ever since high school. This place put me into curriculum development and researching, so I figured it would be a great addition to my CV."

He narrowed his eyes barely.

"So you have a plan?"

"I do."

"You wanna get a Master's?"

"Well, higher, if I can."

"Ahhh... so you are smart smart."

Uncomfortable now that the topic was you, you quickly looked away: "Not really. Tell me, what is the position your folks have lined up for you?"

He chuckled.

"Business consultant. It's nothing special, but it's steady."

"Where are they based?"

"New York."

Right. So they have money money.

"Are you perhaps a nepo baby?"

He laughed.

"Well, I guess you could say that. But I don't want to be defined by them. I want to create my own ... my values, you know?"

You almost felt yourself sympathizing with him, but the feeling of seperation came back. You remembered the looks you received and the empty seat next to you in classes filled with his type. You remembered being talked over and put aside when you wanted to speak on team projects. You remembered the blatantly perverted things you were told, the arms that linked with rapists, the lack of protection that you and your friends got from anyone when one of them had laid his hands onto a girl you knew.

"Anyway... would you be free for dinner sometimes this week? I'm totally new and alone here, and I could use someone to show me around, you know?"

You held back a sigh as you looked at him who had stopped in his track. He still was younger and, as he said, new and alone in Tokyo. When you were just like him, your coworkers indeed did you the same favor he was asking of you.

"Yes, I can arrange that."

"Does tonight work? If you don't mind, of course."

Against the strange aftertaste that lingered on your tongue, you agreed: "I can do that."

You knew that it wasn't in your nature to ignore someone who felt lost. But you decided that you would not be too close a friend with him. After all, you knew his type.

[norrizzandpia]

I JUST READ You Were Never What I Wanted AND NOW I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE

IT WAS SO GOOD

IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART (if u decide to post it)

YOURE WRITING IS AMAZING <333

Yall ask and yall shall receive! Part 1 link if you need it <3

But I Need You Now (You Were Never What I Wanted, Part 2) (LN4)

Summary: In the aftermath of Lando and Y/n, Lando makes it his personal mission to show Y/n that it wasn’t fake. Their PR stunt might’ve started out as a lie, but it was love for him and he knows it was for her too.

Warnings: language, angsty, FLUFF AT THE END BITCHES AS AN APOLOGY FOR THE HELL I PUT YOU THROUGH WITH THESE TWO-PARTERS, sexual conversations

Note: see what I did with the title… 😏 You were never what I wanted, but I need you now 🤭 also i made this less angsty as an apology again 👹

Y/n goes home for a few days.

The news spreads throughout the paddock like a virus, being whispered in every person’s ear. When it gets back to Lando, he stands in the midst of the chaos in McLaren’s garage.

Jon leaves his hand on Lando’s shoulder in a comforting manner, knowing something happened between them, but not knowing the specific details.

“She left?” He says lowly, voice wavering as he tries to gain control of it.

Jon nods, “I’m afraid so.”

“What about the race?” He asks, hands clenching at his sides.

“She’s having the reserve driver take her place. You know that.” Jon gives him a confused look.

Lando shakes his head, “No, I get that, but how could she just give up on it?”

Jon sighs and Lando can tell his trainer doesn’t want to tell him the next bit of information. He does anyway, “I heard she was pretty distraught after that gala a week ago. Apparently, she was sobbing and the valet had to help her call a cab. She was a mess, I gather, no one knows why.”

I do, he thinks. I know why, Lando thinks.

Lando abandons the conversation, not wanting to hear anymore about the girl he loves.

She plagues his dreams, his nightmares, his delusions, his thoughts, he doesn’t need her to infiltrate his life anymore.

🏎️

“What’s the problem?” He asks an hour later when Jon treats him like he’s about to have a mental breakdown at any moment.

His trainer eyes him suspiciously, gently, “Nothing,”

Lando groans, arms flying out beside him before smacking down back at his sides, “Jon, cut the bullshit. You’ve been treating me like I’m a fucking baby all day. Why?”

Jon sighs, turning to look at him before grabbing his arm and pulling them out of the garage. Jon forces them into a random hallway always away from the commotion and publicity, looking at Lando softly, “What happened between you and Y/n?”

Suddenly, Lando’s defensive. The mention of her name makes his skin crawl and his heart clench, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You two were dating.”

Lando rolls his eyes, “We were not dating. We were a PR stunt. You know that, Jon.”

Jon stares him down, “You two were dating.”

The meaning of his words hits Lando, what Jon truly is trying to address. He’s drowning in the mistakes of his own actions and the love he developed for her, no way to explain his way out of the situation with Jon looking at him knowingly.

He folds his arms over his chest, “Maybe in the end.”

Jon’s face scrunches up in confusion, “In the end? Of course, you were. Did you sleep together?”

“Fuck, no!” Lando yelps, astonishment at Jon’s bluntness, a trait the man has never had when it came to his romantic relationships.

Jon shakes his head, confusion deepening, “Then how the fuck did you two end up where you are? How did you end up in this mess? Which you still have not told me about.”

He sighs, head falling to stare at his shoes, “I fell in love with her. She fell in love with me. Well, at least I think.”

Jon, the man so incredibly lost, looks blankly at Lando, “You fell in love. With Y/n. Y/l/n. The woman you used to absolutely detest. The woman who used to hate your guts. You two fell in love with each other?”

Lando nods, “I know how it sounds, but it happened.”

Jon’s head tilts to the side, “Okay, and what happened the night of the gala?”

Jon sees the shift of Lando’s demeanor, his entire body running cold with images of her walking out on him. The boy’s body running cold, he tries to get through the night that ruined it all, “Everything was fine in the beginning. We were just talking to a bunch of donors. You know, we got so many that night. Anyways, we were at the bar and being stupid as always, getting drunk, when Lu showed up.”

“Lu as is your ex?” Jon clarifies.

Lando nods, “Yeah, so she came up to us and we just got to talking. She mentioned the fact that we still talk.”

Jon’s mouth falls open, “You and Lu still talk?!”

“Not anymore, not after the gala. She basically cut off contact with me because she ‘hated the way it made her feel when she saw the look on Y/n’s face’. But, at that time, we had been. I should’ve told Y/n when we started getting serious, but I didn’t and that came back to bite me in the ass because she was so betrayed, Jon.”

“So, she walked out of the gala because she was angry about you and Lu?”

“Yeah, she basically told me I didn’t care about her in the way she thought I had, which wasn’t true. I told her I loved her and then shit just went completely downhill after that.”

Jon’s hand squeezes Lando’s arm, “You told her you loved her?”

There’s a flash of sadness in Lando’s eyes and Jon knows it’s because of the painful rejection. He’s learning that Y/n might’ve started out as one of the people Lando cared about the least, but she had quickly become the center of his entire world.

“Of course, I did. But, she didn’t believe me. I don’t blame her too! The start of our relationship was built specifically on hatred. We never wanted anything to do with each other and then, all of a sudden, we were kissing and it was feeling like something more.”

A silence passes before Lando whispers, “Sometimes I wish I never would’ve met her.”

Jon chuckles, “You’ve said that before.”

Lando scoffs, “Yeah, but that was because I hated her. This is because I can’t deal with the fact that she left me.”

“Have you tried to talk to her?” Jon inquires, eyes roaming Lando’s face in search of an answer.

“No,” Lando responds, grief and remorse soaking his tone.

“Well, maybe that’s where you need to start.” Jon smiles.

“In order to do what?” Lando’s lost on the insinuation.

“In order to get her back.”

It’s heartbreaking the way Lando stares up at Jon as if he’d just single-handedly restored all senses of hope and happiness into his body, “You think I can do that?”

“I think that you and her loved each other too much to let it go to waste this way.”

Maybe you’re right, he thinks. Maybe I need to find out for myself, he thinks.

—

Y/n, the girl he hated so much for the love she made him feel, was locked up in her room of her childhood home, information Lando gained from her mother who he had called quietly. It was the first time they had spoken, but it wasn’t the first time she had heard of him. Her daughter had shown up in the middle of the night, sobbing to her over a boy and berating herself for allowing a man to hurt her in the way he had.

However, with the undying kindness Y/n shared, she had patiently heard Lando out as he explained to her the feelings he harbored for her daughter. Strong words of love had persuaded her into giving Lando their address and giving him permission to come. After all, she saw the way her daughter’s Lock Screen lit up with a loving picture of them every time Y/n got a notification. She clocked the picture as the room where Y/n had been hospitalized after her crash, Lando laying on the bed beside her with his arm wrapped safely around her shoulders, a kiss to her cheek as she smiled at the camera.

Bags packed and in hand, Lando stands in front of her house, hood pulled over his head with sunglasses shoved over his eyes. He takes two steps at a time, bypassing multiple steps in the process as he reaches the front door in no time.

Knocking on the wood, Lando waits patiently before the lock is turning and her mother is appearing before him. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she smiles softly at him, a smile resembling the one Y/n had adorned him with before he made her feel less than the most important person in his life.

“Hi, Ms. Y/l/n. Thank you for this.” He says quietly, not wanting Y/n to hear him and get scared.

She nods at him, opening the door and letting him step in, “As much as you hurt my daughter, I think this space is effecting her worse.”

He lingers in the doorway, nerves getting to him as he stares at the steps in front of him, steps he assumes would lead him to her.

Her mother notices his eyes, “She’s up there if you want to go.”

He takes a step toward them, but takes on back and looks at her with tension in his face, “Do you think she’ll want to see me?”

Her mother’s head moves side to side, “I think, at first, she’ll be mad, but she’ll warm up. I know she still loves you, that’s still there.”

He nods, “What should I say?”

His words relay quietly and her mother lays a hesitant hand on his arm, “Why are you here? Why are you fighting for her?”

His answer comes easily, “Because I love her. Because, after years of hating each other, I realize that I never truly, fully hated her. I hated that she was better than me and the fact that she was winning races more than I was, but I never hated her. I never gave her a chance to show me who she was and it took someone forcing us to be together for me to see how amazing she is. I’m remorseful for that, of course, but I’m happy it happened. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have realized the happiness that was standing in front of me all along.”

Her mother smiles brightly at him, “Tell her that.”

🏎️

The door creaks as Lando pushes it open, head poking in to see her laying with her back to him.

“Mom, can I just have some time alone right now?” Her broken voice whispers, curling further into herself as Lando steps in and closes the door.

He doesn’t say anything, opting to walk over to her bed and sit down. The mattress is larger, putting space between them so he’s not touching her.

“I can hear you breathing. Please leave.” She says again, this time pleading desperately.

Lando exhales before lifting his hand and laying it on her hip, his thumb rubbing soft circles lovingly. He feels her body tense, her head looking down to inspect the fingers wrapped around her skin.

She pulls away quickly, sitting up and whipping her head around to meet his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! You should be at the race!” She yells at him, shifting farther away from him.

He hates how tired she looks, how puffy her eye bags are from a mixture of exhaustion and tears. His body turns to completely face hers, his leg being pulled onto the bed, “Your mom gave me the address and I got the reserve driver to cover for me.”

Y/n scoffs, “Okay, why would my mother do that?”

“Because she knows I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes glaze over, iciness translating in her every move, “How would she know that?”

“I called her.” He states simply, watching her eyebrows stitch together.

Her head tilts, “How did you get her number?”

“From Nick.”

Y/n body rears back, “My trainer?! You coerced my trainer into giving you my mother’s phone number?! Are you fucking crazy?!”

“For you, yes.” He smiles softly. His comment earns an eye roll.

“Y/n, just listen to me.” He begins, but Y/n raises her hands in objection.

“No, Lando. Leave me alone. I appreciate the effort, but leave.” Her hands push his arms, doing nothing to move him.

He gently takes her hands in his and shifts closer to her, “No. I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.”

Knowing how stubborn he is, Y/n sits back and gestures for him to continue.

“When I first met you, I hated the success you had.” He starts.

Y/n laughs, “What a great start!”

“Let me finish.” He states, “I hated the success you had and I was dumb enough, young enough to think that meant I hated you too. So, I spent years resenting everything that had to do with you. I never gave myself one moment to reflect on the reasoning for my dislike of you. If I had, we wouldn’t be here right now. Part of me hates that, hates that I spent so much time treating you in a way you never deserved, but another part of me, the part that has fallen so hard for you, is happy it didn’t. If I had realized that I was just jealous of the race wins you were claiming, I would’ve been cordial with you, never getting close enough to get to know who you are out of the envy I held against you. If it had gone down that way, I would’ve never gotten to meet you. And I mean the person you really are, underneath all the PR trained, guarded skin. I would’ve never fallen in love with you, never experienced you and the happiness you have provided me with. It took us so long to get here, through hurtful insults and screaming matches, I can’t let you slip through my fingers, your love with it, because of my stupid mistakes. I won’t let that happen.”

Y/n stays quiet after he completes his last sentence, staring at him as she decides what she wants to do next.

Softly, she says, “Why didn’t you tell me about Lu?”

He sighs disappointedly, “I don’t know. Truthfully, I didn’t think it meant that much. In my head, I didn’t love her. I was just ending a relationship on good terms. I didn’t think far enough to get to you. I’m sorry for that. If I could go back and sit you down, explain to you what Lu and I were doing, the fact that it meant nothing compared to what I feel towards you, I would. You deserve that conversation. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but I hope it does. She was never going to mean the same thing to me as she had before after I first kissed you. Truthfully, she never did mean the same thing to me as you do. I’ve never felt this way for anyone before.”

Y/n nods slowly, gathering her thoughts, “When did you start loving me? When did it stop being hate? Because that night at the gala, at the end of our conversation, you hated me again.”

Lando shakes his head, “First of all, I didn’t hate you that night. I was just hurt and it translated to something ugly, which I can’t apologize enough for. Second of all, I don’t know when I genuinely started loving you, but I know I realized it when you crashed. When I was running throughout the paddock, I could not get away from the heavy pit in my stomach that only pointed toward one thing, I knew that. I tried to push it away, tried to forget about it, but when I saw you laying there, bandaged and alive, it just hit me. I loved that you were still there, I loved the relief that spread through me, I loved the happiness I felt when I saw you breathing, and, then, I just loved you. It built exactly like that. I was just listing the things, in my head, I adored about the moment in order to get away from the severity of it, and then it was just you. You, you, you, you.”

Y/n’s small smile graces his eyes and he moves closer to her, sitting with his legs folded on the bed and his hands over her thighs. The two of them breathe each other in before Y/n is shuffling closer to him. His arms immediately move from her legs to snake around her torso, folding open his legs and pulling her into him. She lays her shoulder against his chest, her head falling to the side to nuzzle in his neck as her legs spread in front of her, lying over his thigh. She plays with the hem of his hoodie as he kisses her temple, laying his head on top of hers.

“You know, I love you too.” She says into his neck. A warmth spreads through Lando, happiness buzzing all the way down to his toes at her confession.

It’s all he’s ever wanted to hear, “I had an inkling.”

She lightly smacks his stomach, giggling, “Don’t be a smart ass.”

Just as he’s about to rebuttal, his phone begins vibrating harshly in his back pocket. His arm reaches around to pull it out, Jon’s face illuminating the screen.

Y/n laughs, “Can I answer it?”

The idea makes him shine with pride, knowing Jon will be proud to hear Lando’s gotten his girl back. So, he plops the phone in her lap with a smile.

Clicking the green button, Y/n puts it on speaker.

“Lando? Did you get there okay? Have you spoken to her yet?” Jon’s rushed voice says quickly.

Y/n gives Lando a playful look before answering, “He got here okay.”

There’s a silence before Jon is cackling, “AHA! IS HE THERE?! LANDO, I TOLD YOU!”

The couple laughs at his antics, Lando moving closer to the speaker to say, “I’m here and I’m starting to think I should listen to you more.”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone before they hear Jon screaming to, what they assume is, the entire McLaren garage, “LANDO AND Y/N, GUYS!”

Again, silence, murmuring even, before the entire room erupts in cheers. Lando can hear it’s just his crew, the group of men knowing how much it stressed Lando out to have her mad at him, the reason she was, they didn’t know.

Y/n and Lando break into tears over their laughter at the men on the other end of the phone. It’s therapeutic to see her laughing in his arms again, a sight Lando didn’t think he would see again.

She’s leaning into him as the men continue to cheer, holding him as her body racks with laughter and all he can do is hold her closer, tighter.

He holds her like she’ll leave him again if he lets go, a thought he knows is so preposterous. Because she’s got her eyes closed, blissed out in his presence and he can see the lines of tension wither away.

She’s safe with him, she shows that through the way she hugs him and softly kisses the side of his neck when he ends the call.

When the noise stops and quietness envelopes them, the couple is left with just each other. He lays them down, her body relaxing into him as she murmurs how much sleep she’s lost over their dispute.

He whispers back, “Go to sleep, then, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He watches her eyes flutter close, her head falling further into the crook of his neck when she crosses the line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Lando’s not tired, however, only laying down with her because he’s not ready to let her go yet. His eyes wander around her childhood room, pictures of a toddler Y/n winning karting races and different championships. Her toothy grin is a charming sight, a look she hasn’t lost in the years of her growth since then.

After inspecting and finding nothing, but more things to love about her, Lando’s eyes avert back to her sleeping form. He brushes the hair out of her face lightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering against it, “At first, you weren’t what I wanted, but I absolutely need you now.”

Tags (i forgot to put these lol): @toasttt11 @megumilovesme @the-untamed-soul @evieepepi08 @igotnorrrizz @im-an-overthinker @cxrlha @ssrcsm @landoslover @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @louvpdf @weasleyreidstyles @ushygushybaby @theycallmeahugger @sainzluvrr @itsjustaninchident @gavisuntiedboot @gracielukey @formula1mount @cjjydes282clo @ssararuffoni @aexitizen

[toji-sweetheart]

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 | 𝐭. 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: What was supposed to be hands-off for a lot of reasons turns out to be the best thing you've ever done.

wc: 3.5k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + dark content + step-dad trope + both him and you have fucked up morals and do fucked up things but it's okay because this is fiction + some angst + I changed it up after a new idea came to me lmaoo + daddy being used + food play

an: this is an ask I got from my last blog that got out of hand lmao

Lines tend to blur when the human mind is muddled with a strong emotion, such as anger. Pretty much all of us have said something out of anger or spite that we wish we could take back, but can't.

When you have to hear your mother and stepdad go at it fighting about things that could easily be talked about, but you know your mom wasn't like that. Her go-to tactic was the silent treatment which left the house in a war zone that had you walking on eggshells.

It was something you were used to, and as soon as you turned eighteen you moved out and away to college only to come back and visit her during breaks and when summer started then she met Toji.

She claimed it was love at first sight but it didn't take long for her new husband to realize what type of woman she really was after the wedding which is where you met him for the first time ever and then you kept coming back home after you and Toji developed a relationship.

You two could bond over being stuck with your mother.

He listened to you bitch and complain a lot about the guys in your class and the ones who try to chase after you to get a taste but there was always one thing you left out, never telling Toji.

None of those men were him.

Having a crush on your stepdad wasn't a new thing, there were more porn links on any website and the pages went into the triple number about fucking your stepbrother or stepmom, whatever tickled your fancy, they more than likely had it.

But the videos always lacked men that looked like Toji or they didn't know how to fuck, and it was like they missed the clit on purpose.

It was a dark secret you were going to take with you to the grave.

That is until you were caught.

You came into town a day ago and forgot a few essentials back at your dorm so you had to run into town quickly before meeting up with a few old friends to grab them and that's when Toji found it.

Your laptop was still playing a video when he was shuffling down the hallway ready to get in the shower, the sound was on but it wasn't loud enough for Toji to realize what it was until he opened the lid to see a woman who looked like you getting her back blown out while chanting daddy fuck me harder and oohs and ahhs about his dick.

With his eyebrow cocked Toji couldn't stop himself from watching as the man pulled out, his condom-covered dick was shiny with the woman's cum, and all he could think about was fucking you raw.

Feeling his cock twitch under his towel he sat down at your chair looking around your bedroom, the same one you grew up in and your mother never changed anything when you moved out so it was frozen in time it felt like with pictures of you and your life hanging up.

Toji wasn't sure how long he had before you came home and while he wanted to jerk off in your chair he knew it was best to take your laptop to his and your mom's room to lay on the bed with the laptop next to him as he lay naked with his legs spread open.

His heavy cock wept as he wrapped thick fingers around the shaft knowing this was beyond fucked, masturbating to his stepdaughter's porn that he found wasn't the best moment in his life but damn it, you were a minx and tempted him more than anything.

It simmered under the surface and now it was a raging boil that wouldn't even stop if you took away the heat source. With his head tilted against the headboard and the video louder he didn't hear you coming in calling out for him. "Toji!? I have something for you!"

No answer.

Usually, he would call back out from the living room. Silence greeted you as you breezed through the lower half of the house, going from room to room holding the scratch-off ticket you bought for Toji.

Humming softly you walked upstairs stopping midway when you heard the moans.

Immediately your blood ran cold with thoughts of him stepping out on you. Your feet faltered as you gripped the rail bolted to the wall thinking about the woman Toji brought home.

With determination in your step, you hurried up the stairs and down the hallway to push the door open to see Toji naked and jerking off, his fist going up and down his fat and leaky cock, it was the thickest and longest you've ever seen in person.

Toji stopped when he heard you suck in a breath and you met each other's gaze feeling your heart threaten to get stuck in your ass, it felt like a dream as your eyes bounced from his to where his fist was.

It was now or never.

"Are you goin' to stand there or help me?" He husked moving his fist again, his heavy sack bouncing with each stroke making your mouth water as you watched stuck in the doorway until the video changed pulling you from your state of mind.

Your feet propelled you forward as you shed your clothes until you were on the mattress kneeling between Toji's strong and powerful thighs, he was so close you could smell his natural body scent which was all potent male. 

Toji watched you with darkened eyes forgetting that another video was playing, he didn't have to imagine this now, not with you right here with a soft smile and even softer hands that felt like heaven when you replaced his fist with yours.

The line was crossed the moment he was caught, the both of you knew that so when you finally closed the distance to wrap your lips around the tip while keeping eye contact Toji knew he was in for it.

He watched as you swallowed him all the way down to the hilt burying your nose into the soft dark pubic hair that he kept trimmed, and it's been so long since he got his dick wet and here you were sucking his cock like it was your job.

Whatever you couldn't reach you jerked off making it messy with thick spit that bubbled and strung from your mouth to the head of his cock when you pulled away to give your jaw a break. "You can do better than that, I've heard you gossip for hours doll." Toji husked with a deep chuckle as he guided your mouth back to his cock.

You gagged wetly causing tears to glisten and make your eyes glassy as you met Toji's gaze again knowing that was beyond wrong, this was your mother's husband, your stepdad whose dick you were sucking in their bed like it was a melting popsicle.

Green eyes took in the way you swirled your tongue around the tip before dragging all the way down to his heavy sack sucking on each one gently while using your spit as a makeshift lube to make it easier to jerk him off as you kissed your way up making a mess of your face.

"You look so pretty like this," Toji grunted when you slapped the length of his dick against your tongue once it lolled out, your lips curled into a smile when you felt his warm essence splatter that he smeared in with his thumb before dragging it toward your lips.

He watched as you sucked his cum-soaked thumb before moving to straddle him, your hands perched on his shoulders not cleaning up the rest of his orgasm on your face as you grabbed his wrists guiding his hands to grab your tits and rolling your nipples.

"I see where you got most of your looks from." Toji teased hearing you huff and smack at his hands as you glared at him and rolled your eyes.

It was just to rile you up really because truth be told you are the most beautiful woman he's had the pleasure of looking at.

His words stung as you turned your attention to your laptop that kept playing porno and now you couldn't help but feel cheap and used. "We won't talk about this ever again, this never happened." You told him and crawled off the bed with your laptop and clothes in your arms.

Toji sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair knowing he fucked up big time with that joke and since the apple doesn't fall far from the tree he took the rest of the night to think about your fave covered in cum and you crying on his cock as you struggle to take him.

Over the next several days all you could do was taste Toji.

It was your own personal hell because not only couldn't you get rid of it but he was always around and it seemed like he was picking fights with your mom on purpose to.

Since it was summer break, you had three more months of living with them before going back to college, and you didn't want to hear the yelling, so you called up an old friend for dinner.

They didn't notice you leaving at first until Toji went upstairs passing by your bedroom, and by then, it was an hour after the fight ended.

Another hour passed by of him laying in bed thinking about the other night, and you still weren't home, making Toji sick to his stomach until his phone rang with your ringtone.

He answered it, hearing a noisy background fade away. "Hey, I was wondering if you could come and get me please?" You asked softly shifting your weight between both feet waiting for his answer.

"Send me your location."

With that he hung up to get dressed while looking at his phone knowing exactly where you were, it was the restaurant that he proposed at.

Another twenty minutes later you saw Toji's car turning the corner smoothly and gliding up to the curb, the passenger door swung open revealing Toji who seemed irritated. You scurried to the car just in time for sheets of rain to start coming down heavily.

The air in the cabin of his car was thick with unsaid words and tension that even a knife couldn't cut through, you would need a chainsaw to get the job done. "Thank you for picking me up."

You turned to look at him thankful for the dark sky and Toji's tinted windows, the eye contact was intense and it made you ache. It could be felt like a heartbeat between your legs but his comment still rubbed you the wrong way.

"I have no choice." He muttered pulling away from the curb and driving slowly down the streets until he reached the driveway where he shut the car off filling the air with static.

Neither of you moved from your spot.

Toji looked at you turning his body to get a good view of your dress. "Why are you being a jerk?" You blurted with a curled lip as you gripped the door handle glaring at him when you pushed the door open to get out when he grasped your wrist gently.

Before you could say anything, you were yanked forward and felt Toji's lips against yours. At first, you stilled then melted like butter on a hot pan, you became putty in his arms as he pulled you closer.

He helped you staddle him making sure you were comfortable before his hands slid up your dress. "Look at ya. So pretty 'f me." His words made you burn from the inside out as you rubbed your pantie-cladded cunt against his bulge wanting to feel him inside you.

"Toji. I want you so bad." You whimpered leaning your back against the steering wheel to lift the front of your dress to show him your no bra and underwear choice, his eyes widened and his cock twitched.

"Is this for me or that loser you went with?" He husked pinching your nipples and hearing you whine while rolling your hips unable to help yourself, he trailed his fingers down your belly and down between your legs where he spread you open gently.

"Who do you think, silly?" You hummed leaning in to kiss him again and nibble on his bottom lip while reaching both hands down to pull the band of his shorts down to reveal his dick that felt warm and heavy in your hand while being smooth and soft.

He was beyond thick and his length was impressive but you weren't surprised. Toji swirled his tongue with yours as he slowly slid his middle finger inside you, curling to find that sweet spot of yours.

With your arm wrapped around his neck, you jerked him off letting him finger you as you kissed him growing drunk and needy for him.

Toji already had you on the edge in a matter of seconds it felt like.

His teeth sunk into the tender area of your pulse when you tossed your head back riding his fingers, wanting to ride something else.

"Dick." You muttered pulling away in a frenzy.

"What for?" Toji huffed as he rolled his eyes.

You looked up at him as you spit in the palm of your hand to use as a makeshift lube before jerking him off again. "I want your dick."

He chuckled and smacked your ass as you sat up the best you could due to being in a cramped car, your muscles cramped and ached but you didn't care, not when you felt his hot tip against your fluttering hole.

Slowly you sat down until he was halfway inside you feeling your pussy pulse around him and trying to milk it already. His fingers curled into your dress stretching the fabric when he bottomed out.

The both of you gasped as tears stung your eyes feeling him in your throat what felt like. "Holy fuck." You whimpered and put your hands on the roof of the car as you began a slow pace at first.

Toji pulled the top of your dress down to bare your breasts to him which he attacked with kisses and soft nibbles as you rode him like you were going to win first place for doing it too, this wasn't going to be the first or last time this happened, the both of you knew it too.

His cock kissed your cervix mixing in a bit of pain with the pleasure that swirled in your foggy brain as you bounced up and down. "I'm going to ruin any man that tries to lay his claim on you, you're all mine, aren't you sweet girl?" Toji asked reaching up to squeeze your cheeks in one hand squishing your lips together.

You couldn't speak, only moan which was amusing to him. "So drunk on cock you can't even talk, don't worry princess. I'll ask again. You're mine, right?" He shook your head for you softly and thrust up mocking your voice. "Yes, daddy, I'm all yours." He husked.

Your hips ground down on him feeling your orgasm wash over you making you squeal and clamp down around Toji which in turn pushed him to cum sooner than what he's used to filling you to the brim.

You nor Toji spoke about what happened in the car but you had silent conversations when your mom was home and when she wasn't you were sure to tease him and tonight you broke the poor man.

After dinner, you curled up on the couch with a bowl of fruit and whipped cream while your mother did the dishes when Toji sauntered in just in time to see you dipping a strawberry in the cream lapping the white essence up reminding him of the blowjob in his bed.

Toji was silent as he sat on the other end of the couch but he still eyed you and now you were sucking the whipped cream off your fingers. "Did I miss a spot?" You asked in a sultry voice as you leaned in to look at him.

This was a very dangerous game you both were playing, he could feel the heat from the flame he was playing with but Toji knows you would balm any burn he got and he would do the same for you too.

His eyes shifted to the hallway still hearing the water running before he was staring at you while he dipped his finger in the cream to smear some of your mouth. "You did, you're a messy eater."

He leaned in grabbing the back of your neck in a gentle hold that only made you melt under his touch when he licked your lips before kissing you which made your pussy ache and drool for him again. Quickly you put the bowl down and kneeled on the floor.

Toji leaned back and watched you curious as to what you were going to do as you removed his cock that grew in your hands. You scooped up some cream and slathered it on the tip of his dick before licking it off never breaking eye contact as he ate a few pieces of fruit.

Both of you had to be quiet and quick too.

He rested his hand on top of your head as you cleaned the sticky mess up before adding more whipped cream on the side of his dick that you licked up before sucking on the tip like it was a comfort thing and in a way it was, you enjoyed seeing Toji like this.

You pulled away to grab a grape and feed him before going back down deepthroating him gagging softly as he attempted to keep his moans quiet when your mom called him to the kitchen. "Oops, you've been called to duty." You teased and giggled as you stood up.

Toji reached out and smacked your ass as he stood up to kiss you, the sweet cream and his musk mixed together making you taste addictive.

It was a cat-and-mouse game now.

You were more than fine being the mouse and letting Toji chase you.

Like now, it was Saturday evening and he and your mom had a date planned which made you become bitchy and mean to both of them which was promptly ignored by your mom but Toji wasn't having that.

After they left you knew your mom wanted you to stay home to watch the place but you wanted to see your friends from your old days and what's the worst thing that can happen when you sneak out?

It ends with the party having the cops called on it for being too loud and no ride because your friends couldn't find you and they had no choice but to leave you behind, which made you dial Toji.

He was clearly upset when he answered and you could hear your mother in the background nagging about something. "I'll be there."

You sent him your location once you made it safely away from that house and the cops that crawled by the bench you sat on until you saw Toji's car causing butterflies to erupt in your belly. "Did you tell my mom you're picking me up?" You asked him once inside.

"No, your mother went to a hotel tonight."

"Oh."

After that, the car ride was silent until you finally broke it. "What are we doing?" You murmured afraid of his answer feeling your heart pound in your chest.

Toji didn't say anything until he pulled into the driveway to look at you not saying anything which made your stomach twist with a mixture of emotions. You both have already crossed the line and there was no going back from all of that, it was all out in the open.

Another minute passed and you couldn't take it anymore, with your purse in your hand you shoved the door open and hurried out of the car and into the house with tears streaming down your face, it felt like he was breaking up with you when he wasn't yours to start with.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[nadvs]

keep thinking about having a sneaky link and or fwb situation with rafe and one night he calls you and hes like ‘can i come over i need you’ and youre like dude im asleep but hes already standing at your place and when you open the door hes all dishevelled and bloody and beat up and drunk or high or whatever and close to passing out so you patch him up and eventually get into some freaky stuff and maybe he even ends up confessing hes falling for you……. is that anything

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning blood/injury

You’re used to Rafe’s name flashing on your phone late at night. He’s usually drunk or high after a party, desperate to fuck and knowing you’re almost always up for it.

You know he’s not interested in nor capable of having sex with any strings attached. It’s just a friends with benefits situation, and you’ll take what you can get, loving how perfectly his body fits into yours.

But it hasn’t stopped you from developing feelings for the complex, hardened man who’s seen you naked dozens of times.

Tonight, you’re already dozing off when your phone starts buzzing. You tiredly pick it up to see he’s calling. He never calls. Only texts.

You figure it’s another booty call and let it go to voicemail.

But he calls again. And again.

“What?” you say groggily.

“Can I come over?” he rasps.

“I’m sleeping,” you say. “Another night, ‘kay?”

“Please. I need you.”

“What?” you ask. You’ve never heard his voice like this. Sad. Empty.

“I’m outside your building. I… I need you,” he repeats.

You agree even though you’re exhausted, hearing desperation in his voice. When you open your door, Rafe’s head is hanging, his messy hair falling over his forehead, his lips parted.

When he finally looks up, you notice blood spattered over his nose.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Can you help me?” he says. Rafe doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He realizes how pathetic it is that a girl he fucks casually is the closest person he has to him. And how pathetic is that you don’t even know it.

He’s leaning against your bathroom sink as you dab a wet tissue over the dried blood, his lids heavy. He feels like he’s about to pass out, but he wants to keep looking at you.

Even through the fog, gazing at you and feeling the way you take care of him gets him hard. As you clean him up, you notice the bulge in his jeans.

“Really?” you say with a breathy laugh.

“You’re hot,” he drawls, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

After tossing out the bloodied tissue, you brush Rafe’s bangs out of his face and study his tired features. He doesn’t get many moments like this with you. These soft, quiet moments of concern and care.

It makes him wonder, like always, if you feel the way he does.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Fight,” he says with a shrug.

“Ever considered just walking away?”

“That’s stupid.”

You chuckle and step back, but he pulls you in by your wrist and kisses you, fighting through the pain radiating on his face. You purposely kiss gently so not to hurt him, arousal twisting inside of you. You don’t care about how tired you are anymore.

He stands, pushing you back, following your footsteps into your room. He grinds into you once you’re on your bed, feeling himself throbbing already.

“I thought you were hurt,” you tease.

“I am,” Rafe whispers. “Make me feel better.”

He knows your body by now, knows where to touch to get you wet. He kisses down your neck as he pulls your pajamas off, rubbing you over your panties.

You strip him down to his boxers, dipping your hand into them and stroking his hard, smooth cock. He lets out a groan, loving the feeling of your fingers wrapped around him.

Once you’re naked, you sit on him, slowly sinking onto him, letting him bury into you. Rafe throws his head back in pleasure. He never gets used to how nicely you squeeze around him.

As you start to rock, your hands on his firm chest, he watches you on top of him in awe. He grips your hips, letting you take full control, loving how you writhe and move and breathe.

“You take it so fucking good,” he praises, revelling in how hot and wet you are.

You lean down so your clit rubs against his base, whimpering at the sensation, arching your back. Rafe’s hands rest on your ass as you move on top of him, reaching your peak with shallow breaths.

He cums quickly after you, emptying himself inside you in hard and fast spurts, groaning through his climax.

You clean up and settle beside him, sure he’ll head out soon. He never stays the night. But he’s not getting up.

He turns to kiss you again, cradling your face. You figure he wants to go for a second round. He continues to run his tongue over yours, languidly and without the speed and urgency you’re used to.

Rafe isn’t touching you anywhere else. His palms are on your cheeks, his lips gently sucking yours. He eventually pulls back, forehead against yours.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he mutters.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.” He swallows hard. “Pretending like this is just fucking.”

“What?” Your heart is racing. Your stomach is numb. You look at him in the dimness of your room.

“This no strings attached thing is bullshit,” he says. “You’re all I fucking think about.”

He kisses you again, soft and shy for the first time.

“Is it just me?” he asks. He’s hurting all over, in pain from simply imagining you rejecting him.

You’re worried he’s just fucked up from whatever he was drinking or inhaling earlier tonight, but you take the opportunity to get your feelings off your chest, no matter the risk.

“It’s not just you,” you finally say.

He breaths a short sigh of relief, kissing you again, thumb stroking your temple.

Rafe isn’t sure when you went from an amazing hook-up to a girl who’s slowly taking his heart piece by piece, but it’s been agony keeping it from you.

He’s glad that he doesn’t have to pretend anymore, but mostly, he’s elated that you feel the same.

[thebibliosphere]

Hello, I apologize if this is something you've already talked about or you've answered this question before or don't want to speak more on it but I saw that ask you responded to the other day that your 'mast cells burnt down your gi track' and I wanted to ask what the name of that condition is called? Several years ago I randomly lost 45 pounds and couldn't explain it. And while I already had gi issues before, after it happened I started developing new ones that got worse with time to the point that now I am physically unable to work. There are a lot of other factors with my situation that could be to blame but I've gotten an absurd amount of various tests with no answers to show for it. And now I'm wondering if maybe whatever happened to you has happened to me.

Oh, bestie, you're all good; all I do is bitch on this app about having mast cell dysfunction.

There are a handful of different mast cell disorders, but my condition is known as Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, or MCAS for short. If you want to know what a mast cell is and how it operates in the immune system, I'd recommend checking out The Mast Cell Disease Society:

They're currently redoing their content, but there's still a wealth of information on there.

You can also search my blog for #MCAS and find a handful of posts where I break it down in detail, along with the current flaws in testing for mast cell patients.

The reason I lost a lot of weight was because my mast cells made my GI tract so inflamed that I couldn't digest anything I was eating. It was going in through my mouth, causing excruciating pain and giving me no nutritional value whatsoever.

Histamine type 2 blockers, such as famotidine/pepcid used to treat acid reflux, can help with GI inflammation from mast cell dysfunction (the GI tract is lined with histamine receptors), but I needed extra support, which I finally got late last year when my GI doctor realized after a biopsy that I was being undermedicated and needed more help managing my MCAS.

If you want to ask more specific questions, I'm happy to try to answer them, but I'd suggest reading through the above link first to see if any of it resonates with you.

[stepintothelimelight]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄SHE CAN GO HOME, BUT SHE’S NOT GOING TO

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° i would do

anything

you want me to…. ✧ ⁺ ┊

PART 4 of the Spitfire Saga

TRAILER: A home race that doesn’t feel like home anymore

(2018!f1grid x fem!Genz!driver!reader, max verstappen x reader (platonic), lewis hamilton x reader (platonic) sebastian vettel x reader (platonic))

For more Spitfire content go to my account and it’s my pinned post since tumblr hates me and won’t let me link anything :)

WARNINGS: FAMILY ISSUES, mentioned child abuse, swearing, gratuitous hurt/comfort, reader’s birthday happens before the gp, mention of a suicidal thought, ANGST, barely edited :)

fc: an assortment of female celebs

Aaaaannnnd ACTION!

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f1

f1: 🇺🇸🦅💥💥💥HOME RACE FOR Y/N L/N 🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅 

 American fans - be there or be 🟦

📍Circuit of the Americas

tagged: yourusername, mercedesamgf1

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yourusername just shared a story!

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You arrive early, per usual, to make sure you have time for every fan, and maybe to catch a glimpse of Taylor Swift, who will be singing the national anthem today.

Your phone call with Seb last night quickly turned into him and Hanna knocking on your hotel room door and enveloping you in their arms. You fell asleep between the two of them, a comfort show playing on low volume in the background.

You hate that it caught you off guard. A small, stupid part of you actually believed that your family - your mother - could love you like they - like she- was meant to. 

It was supposed to be fun. You dressed up, treated them to one of the nicest restaurants in Austin. The second they arrived, though, it all turned to shit. 

At least your fans are majorly little girls and they couldn’t care less if you’re having widely photographed, public arguments with your older brother after a family dinner turned sour. 

Miraculously, you get into the paddock unscathed by prying questions into your personal life. You just get set up in your drivers room for Qualifying and try to put it all behind you. You don’t see Taylor, and unlike any other day, you don’t have the energy to face the paddock.

As you rearrange your hangers for the hundredth time, there’s a knock on your door. You sigh. Most of the team knows that you like your private time before any event, especially your first home race. 

“Yeah?”

The door opens slowly. It’s Lewis. Since the beginning of the season, your relationship with him has definitely developed. He’s good friends with Seb and you have a sneaking suspicion that he has told Lewis to keep an eye on you where Seb can’t. He’s become a sort of mentor-slash-friend and you couldn’t be happier, especially since you’ve both signed on for another few years at Mercedes. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you say. 

Lewis sent me this. 

“Did you hear about Taylor Swift?” You exclaim. “How cool is that?”

He grants you a trademark half-smile. 

“Consider it a belated birthday gift.”

You eyes widen and your mouth drips open.

“It was you?”

He shrugs.

“It wasn’t very hard to convince her.”

You hurry over to him, hesitate for a second, then hug him gently. You’ve never hugged him in a normal setting. You break off of him and stand there, not quite knowing what to say next.

“Home race,” He says awkwardly. Lewis is hardly ever awkward. “Big deal.”

“Yeah.” You don’t mean to sound annoyed. Or tired. Or defeated. 

“Family coming? I’d like to meet them. I don’t think I have, yet. “

That’s true. Your mother has been to two Grand Prix since the start of the season and your father and brother one, respectively. They’re busy people, but after last night, some part of you wonders if your mother intentionally schedules conflicts so that they can never make it. 

That’s stupid, she says in your head. We love you. You’re the one who makes this whole thing impossible. 

When they have shown up, you’ve kept them as far away as possible from cameras, and Lewis draws every camera in every room he steps foot in. Maybe your brother is right. Maybe you hide them because of some secret shame you hold for them. The only thing you’re ashamed of is how complicated your relationship with your family is. 

“No. I-“

What?

Sent them home? 

Told them to never show their faces around the paddock again?

Cried into Seb’s chest all of last night wishing I was dead because of how horrible they make me feel?

“Couldn’t deal with them today,” you say decisively. The media might see you as a stone cold bitch, so why not Lewis, too. 

“They’re your family.”

“They hate me,” you whisper, turning back you your hangers. You’ve never said it out loud. Not to Max or Charles, not even to Hanna last night when she was helping you wash your face through swollen eyes and a runny nose.

“I’m sure they don’t-“

“You’ve never met them. My mom hates me. She loathes me and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I have given her everything and she still don’t bring herself to even like me a little bit. The rest this I’m too independent, too liberal, not liberal enough, too opinionated, too young, too smart, whatever. My dad and his side wish I went to university and my mom’s side tries to chase the fame. It sucks. It didn’t use to be like this, but it is now.”

You spare a glance back at him. He’s wide- eyed. This is probably the most he’s heard you talk without cracking a joke or bursting out laughing.

“Have you told Seb? Or… Max, Charles?”

“Seb, yes. Max would order a hit on my entire family if I told him this type of thing and Charles would hide the evidence.”

What you told Charles at Christmas, he didn’t acknowledge then and there, but he was noticeably cold to your mother when you brought her to see him.  

Lewis studied you, then a look dawns on his face. It’s a mix of dread and fury, but he schools it quickly.

“Y/n,” He says in a very serious tone. “Don’t lie to me.”

Your brow furrows.

“Do they - does your mother or your father hit you?”

It wasn’t the question you’d expected, but it still makes your blood turn cold.

You think for a second, contemplate his expression, run the risks of him exploding if you tell him the truth. 

“No…” you trail off. “Once. I made her mad when I was fifteen and-“ you raise your own hand and slap your face. “Never after though.”

She cried into your shoulder for hours after, telling you just how sorry she was, how she would never dream of laying another violent hand on you again. 

Lewis’s mouth opens then closes. You purse your lips. 

“I don’t need my family,” you whisper. “And I don’t need you to worry about me. I’m fine.”

He gives you a look, one that says:

There’s no way in hell I believe you.

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chalmaxy/nship

chalmaxy/nship: Max and Charles (+Pierre) teaming up to cheer Y/n up 😫 they are sooooo whipped for her (even tho they pretend they hate each other 🙄)

tagged: max33verstappen, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, yourusername, f1

liked by lestappenforever and 4773 others

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The video starts with the camera fixed on a very angry - looking Y/n. Her brow is set and her mouth is distorted in a flat line, which of course, is to be expected. She was obviously off her usual top-five worthy game today and has earned herself a starting position of P20.

The interviewer asks her a series of questions that she responds to very flatly and emotionlessly, so much so that her press officer elbows her in the side more than once to get an actual, genuinely not sarcastic answer out of her. 

And then -

“Do you think your family issues are the reason you’ve performed so miserably today?”

She stops. Pauses, opens her mouth then closes it again. 

“That,” she drags out bitingly. “was an incredibly stupid and insensitive question. Every question you’ve asked me today has been either completely patronizing or borderline inappropriate.”

She shoots a look at her press officer, shakes her head slightly, then leans into the microphone.

“You’ll understand why we’re choosing to cut this interview short.”

And then she turns and leaves the media pen.

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mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1: AAAAAaaaaaannnnnddd she’s done it again! A home race win is yet another thing our Spitfire can check off of her bucket list 💪 

tagged: yourusername

liked by yourusername, f1 and 63720 others 

view 67199 comments 

user6: Admin really said yes she’s a spitfire yes she’s OUR Spitfire 

user7: did anyone else notice how down Y/n seemed up on the podium tho

⮑ user11: Yeah, definitely not the energy we’re used to up there

yourusername: 🖤🖤

⮑user12: girl I need to know the tea behind the story and the tweet 🙏🙏🙏

user7: Call me crazy but she’s the biggest talent of her generation, not Verstappen 

⮑ user8: you’re crazy

⮑user9: @/user8: did we not just watch the same race? 

user10: she’s making the sport annoying.

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yourusername

yourusername: Great home race win guys! 🇺🇸💥💥🦅💥 lovely to share the podium with maxie and lewie

tagged: mercedesamgf1

liked by max33verstappen, charles_leclerc and 738291 others 

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max33verstappen: Get ready, I’m coming to get you in an hour to celebrate 

⮑yourusername: I can’t drink here dumbass

⮑user13: MaxY/n confirmed???

taylorswift: So glad I finally got to meet you in person! 

⮑ user14: TAYLOR SWIFT WAS THERE AND Y/N DIDNT EVEN MENTION IT???? OH SOMETHING’S WRONG WRONG

⮑ yourusername: 🖤

user15: U go Spitfire!!

user16: Y/n is such a bitch. 

lewishamilton: This is starting to sound redundant, but congrats Y/n!

user17: I still can’t get over how rude she was to that reporter 

⮑user18: EVERY reporter is rude and/or patronizing towards her. She deserves to bite back once and a while

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True to his word, Max knocks on your door. You get up from the spot you’ve been staring out the window and open it.

He’s dressed up, ready to go out drinking, you suppose. You’ve changed into your pajamas and tied your hair up sloppily. 

He arches his eyebrows.

“Ready to celebrate?”

You shrug. 

“Not really in the mood. Plus I can’t drink here. You go ahead, tell the team to send me the bill and I’ll pick it up.”

You go to close the door then. He kicks his foot between the door and the doorframe. 

“Come out. It could still be fun,” He offers. “It’s your home race. I’d be happy if I won at spa.”

He raised his eyes brows at you and you look down guiltily. You should be happy. You’ve broken a record of some kind, you’re pretty sure, and every other driver dreams of winning his home race. 

“You’d be happy because your family would be there to see it,” you say bitterly. “Because then you’d be able to prove to them it wasn’t all for nothing. That you’re not selfish or - or something.”

Max closes the door when he hears your voice tremor. There’s a hard concern in his eyes. 

“Go, Max. You should celebrate.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

You look him up and down. He’s gelled his hair and put on a non redbull shirt. Obviously he’s gearing up for a big night of celebrating. 

“Tell me,” He says. “You can talk to me. I’m not a stranger to family issues.”

You scoff and flop onto your bed. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You love partying. It’s a big deal.”

It’s quiet, except for his slightly heavy breathing. Here’s Mad Max Verstappen, standing at the foot of your bed begging you to confide in him with his eyes. His big, sad, droopy eyes.

You cover your face with the your arm.

“I can’t believe they actually left,” you choke out. “I told them to go and they just … left. The first time my entire family could muster up the time and effort to spend an entire weekend supporting me and they decide to just go home.”

Max moves towards you, hesitates, then settles himself on the floor next to your bedside table. 

“Why?”

You huff. 

“I don’t know. I push them away. I get on my mom’s nerves. I try too hard to impress my dad. Did you know,” you take a deep breath. “Did you know my mother hasn’t told me good night or I love you in five years?”

He sits and stares out the window. 

“Why doesn’t she love me, Max?”

It comes out more pathetic than you wanted it to. Max is probably one of the only people who might get it, just a little. 

“Schat…” he trails off. “I don’t know.”

Max is two years older than you. Sometimes those two years feel like a lifetime. You wish he was a lifetime older than you so he would know.

“Maybe…” He trails off. “Fuck. Maybe some people just aren’t made to be parents.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to try and push down the sobs building in your chest. Max, thankfully, doesn’t react when you let out a soft gasp and sniff wetly. He just sits there and stares out the window

Eventually, you curl up in your bed and Max sits a on the other side (on top of the covers, a safe two feet away) and turn on Star wars (The prequels - he’s a huge nerd, surprise, surprise).

Maybe some people aren’t made to be parents.

Maybe some people aren’t made to be daughters. 

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✧ ⁺ ⁺ Yelled down the hall

but nobody answered ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

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Aaannnnnnddd scene!

DIRECTOR’S CUT: A short and sad angsty hurt comfort type of thing… next chapter i swear will be happier !!

Want to join the taglist? drop a comment below or message my inbox

🏷️ @octavikravecell218 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @sugarrush-blush @scarletwidow3000 @umm-i-love-u

@tallrock35 @itsjustkhaos @dullwaterlily @demande @delululeclerc

[brett-is-afraid]

Do you know anything but the Wilbur allegations? I just saw somethings on Twitter and Wilbur also responded

Yeah. So, here's a rundown of the situation so far for anyone who might've missed it or might not know. Each link is going to include a specific timestamp for what was said. TW for detailed abuse

Shubble went live (she begins talking about it at 3:38) and talked about abuse she had experienced from another creator. She talked about how her silence was "only keeping someone else's peace" so she opened up about it.

She specifically did not name any names and stated she was talking about it to help avoid someone else being in the same situation.

She says that in the beginning, he had expressed that he had a tendency to bite and that he'd made sure she was okay with that because he "didn't want her to come back later and say he abused her." And that she had agreed because he had never hurt her, but it had become more often that he bit too hard and hurt her. But that he always seemed, "genuinely sorry" and that they would develop a safeword.

She stated that he would bite her in front of others and that she would have to laugh it off because she was embarrassed.

She specifically talked about being bitten by him and that she had communicated that it was too hard, that she did not like it. She says she was met with him blaming it on her, saying it was her pain tolerance or that she was being dramatic. She states that he would later show off the bruises to their friends and joke that it looked like he abused her. She also states that he would poke at her bruises while they hurt.

She said she had asked him to stop and he said, "this is who he is and he wasn't going to change."

She said he also would constantly contradict himself and would fight her on it sometimes, telling her that he didn't do/say certain things.

She also said he would weaponize the safeword to make sure she was hurting, ignoring their safeword and biting harder for "just a second before letting go" or grinding his teeth down and smile after.

She said she'd express her anxiety to him and he would always reassure her.

She also said she believes he lovebombed her a lot at the beginning and that he'd make really huge romantic gestures. (Calling her his soulmate and writing love letters, etc.)

She stated she'd caught him in lies before, but it had always seemed like it was small things and she didn't address it. He then lied about big things and had been caught by his friends.

She said he insisted he didn't want to break up and expected her to have solutions, but he refused to compromise. And she said he would flaunt that he'd never prioritize her over anything.

He also allegedly stated that he would never prioritize her over anything that would give him more fame and money, admitting that he'd grown to resent her and that was the final push she needed to leave.

She said when they broke up, they'd agree to be friends and that he said he could never imagine not speaking to her again. And then he never talked to her except for when she needed things back. She also said he threw away hundreds of dollars worth of her things.

She said that once, he pinned her down and had her try to get away. When she couldn't, he made that point that he was stronger and she wouldn't be able to fight him back.

She also mentioned that he lived in a really filthy place and that she felt bad for him, believing that he just didn't know how to clean and needed someone to help him. She then states that she found out he had said that he didn't bother cleaning when she wasn't there because he would just wait for her to do it (which she only found out about after they broke up).

She said she did all the cleaning, laundry, paying for all the paper towels/soap. As well as food more than half the time.

She said she also paid for all the tickets and he never offered to pay after the very beginning. She said she also told him that she couldn't afford it and that he never traveled out to see her. He then agreed to pay for the cat sitter and did it once, and never again in the next months they dated.

Shubble never confirmed it was Wilbur, but Wilbur made a statement on it which can be found on his Twitter account.

He stated that allegations had come from an ex-girlfriend and while he claimed that he did not know he was abusing her, that he thought the behavior was consensual. He claimed he had messages that he believed proved it was, but chose not to publish them "out of respect for her."

He stated he was sharing his side to offer his perspective, but not to diminish or invalidate her.

He stated he recognized she felt her and that he wanted to apologize for it, that he had begun therapy and had made changes, committing himself to earning and maintaining trust from those around him.

[Image description in alt ids]

Neither have provided any visual proof or receipts to accompany their side of the story, despite Wilbur claiming to have it. Shubble has also not released any messages that may support her claims, although she never claimed to have them.

Other content creators have spoken about it.

Tubbo said he wanted to wait until Wilbur stated his side and that his response made him angry. He stated people might think he's biased for Wilbur, but they haven't spoken in private often. He also stated the response was "fucking vile" and that Wilbur made it about him. And that people in chat don't have any place in his chat if they're defending domestic abuse and he wants them to unfollow him. That he fully supports watching Shubble for more context.

Niki also spoke about it and stated,

"I see that people expect me to say something about the situation. Truth is that I was freshly 18 years old when I met him, while I did not see a problem with it back then I can now see how harmful he was to my young self and how damaged I am from that time. my time in the uk had some of the darkest moments of my life (and I think people can tell from the way I used to act on stream) I still can’t think too much about everything that happened back then without shaking and I don’t want to, I always felt so unheard whenever I brought up any situation regarding that time. I don’t want to say more as I don’t want to make this situation about myself."

Hannah also encouraged people to support Shubble and that she avoided unfollowing Wilbur at first because she didn't want to out who her abuser. But she has now unfollowed him.

Aimsey also stated Wilbur was not canceled, he was an abuser.

Badlinu also stated he had seen Wilbur be manipulative numerous times.

Billzo also added that he'd also seen Wilbur intimidate and manipulate his friends

As far as I'm aware, that's all that's happened as of now.

Sidenote: this is not an invitation for discourse or me trying to tell anyone how they should feel/react on said situation. This is just me trying to give an objective view of what's happened, please do not start discourse on this post/blog. As always, I will not publish any negativity about any creator as that is not what this blog is for.

[fireheartwraith]

There are a lot of different traditions during Carnaval, but the allegoric cars players have been building are known to be part of the Parade of the Samba Schools, so I thought I'd explain how it works!

For starters, the Parade is a competition. Each team is called a samba school and they have their own flag and history. People can be really hard or die for their teams! Some are connected to soccer teams, like Gaviões da Fiel (the school) is connected to Corinthians. The two main parades (of this type of carnaval) happen in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro.

Each school has one hour to completely walk across the sambódromo, and in that hour they have to tell a story or message. That is one of the things they are judged on! The criteria are the drums, the samba-enredo (enredo literally means plot, but this is a genre of samba), the evolution (how the story develops), the harmony (is everyone singing together? Do the people in the parade know the lyrics?), the plot itself, the allegoric cars and accessories, the costumes, the opening act, and the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira.

The parade is divided into sections called alas, and each one of them functions as a chapter in the story being told and have their own separate choreography. The first one is the Comissão de Frente (the opening act). They set the tone for the rest of the team and the public, so it’s common to see celebrities here to get the audience hyped.

Another crucial part is the drums. They are setting the beat that everyone is dancing to, so they shouldn’t make any mistakes. To both hype them and keep the pacing is the Rainha da Bateria (the Queen of the Drums). She’s a woman dancing samba in very minimal clothing but very heavy accessories. This is a very prestigious spot, the dream of any passista (this is what the samba dancers are called). Since they are the face of the parade, celebrities are sometimes given the position, and not all of them deserve it.

There are other passistas atop the allegoric cars, but they are not the only type of dancers. There’s the Ala das Baianas (ala of the baiana women): older (usually black but not necessarily) women dancing in traditional clothing. Honestly one of my favorite parts of the parades.

But my favorite part is the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira. There are several throughout the parade, but only the first one is graded. They are a couple: the man is the mestre-sala dancing around the porta-bandeira (literally 'flag carrier'), who dances with the school flag, and wears a big skirt, usually in the school colors. I wanted to be one when I was a kid, they dance doing twirls and it just looked like so much fun.

There are other unnamed alas, of course, and the allegoric cars.

The samba schools are very tied to black history and black communities, so their stories are usually very powerful. Like the year they represented a former president as a blood sucking vampire with the presidential sash, or this year, where they showed a statue of a known slaver graffited and on fire. Seriously, some of these cars are insane, and most of them have moving parts while also being light enough to be pushed or motored across the sambódromo, but sturdy enough to support all the dancers on top of it. A true feat of engineering! See the size of the woman near the statue's feet compared to the whole thing?

Most people celebrate carnaval by going to street parties called "bloco de carnaval" (basically a mini parade with live music), but these huge parade still get a big audience, despite streaming so late at night.

Here's this year's presentation from Vai-Vai if you're curious to see everything in motion! Originally, I had put a link to Estácio de Sá's presentation, but some politicians want to apply sanctions to Vai-Vai because it represented cops as demons. A few days later, a white man attempted to kill a black man, and the black man was arrested despite witnesses telling the cops what really happened. When news broke out, they kept him in prison on claims of "resisting arrest." So, why is it wrong to say cops are devils?

Anyways, the Vai-Vai presentation is about celebrating blackness and black creativity and resilience. Happy Carnaval! The winners this year were Mocidade Alegre in São Paulo and Unidos da Viradouro in Rio de Janeiro. You can look up their presentations if you want to.

[acapelladitty]

Trouble Like A Mugshot (1.5k)

Pairing: Lucy Maclean/Cooper Howard

Summary: After a long day of travelling the wastelands, Lucy is feeling horny and asks Cooper if he wants to have sex with her. A question which is much more complicated than she could have possibly known.

(A/N: I might turn this into a short series of moments showcasing the pairs developing relationship from this to hard nsfw if that's something folks would like to see.)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Lucy Maclean was no stranger to the difficult to ignore feelings which were pressing at her body. Fingers slightly trembling, breath coming in shorter bursts than she would admit to, eyes unable to pull themselves fully away from the lounging ghoul who reclined in his nearby bunk with a relaxed stance; cowboy hat tipped across his face as he feigned sleep.

Lucy Maclean knew herself enough to understand that her restlessness wasn't the radition sickness which had recently started to touch at her peripherals again. Nor was it the fact that it had been weeks since she'd had any time to herself that wasn't shadowed by either her ghoulish companion or some other entity.

Lucy Maclean was horny and she was never one to deny herself a simple, sneaky little indulgence when the mood took her.

"Hey, Cooper." She called, fingers rolling across her bare forearms as she sat with her back to the wall, legs crossed in a neat pile. "You awake and listening to me?"

"Hard not to with those foghorn vocals." A grumpy response, muffled by the hat rang back at her. "What are you yapping your flap about?

"Do you want to have sex?"

In their time together, Lucy had never witnessed Cooper doing anything that her vault lessons had taught her were sexual acts. He didn't touch himself around her, didn't disappear for some self-relief as the boys did, didn't make any kind of pass at her like some of the others had done before her husband had been selected. As far as she knew, maybe the ghoul didn't even feel the same things she did, and that realisation made her roll back on her question almost as quickly as she had asked it.

"I mean, if you can have sex that is. I don't know if your," Lucy paused, unsure how to describe her partners physical state without causing offence, "condition, makes it possible. I don't even know if you have the right parts for it but there's other ways of experiencing pleasure. We could use our mou-"

Cutting herself off as her babbling reach a new octave, Lucy watched as Cooper's body - his frame stock still since she had asked her initial question - finally stirred into action. A reddened hand slowly rose from its position by his hip until it reached the cowboy hat, plucking the leather from his face as he turned to look at his bunkmate and travelling companion with an indescribable expression; various emotions fluttering through his typically stoic face.

"I know your experiences with ghouls are limited, princess." Cooper spoke patiently, voice low as he fired the hated nickname at her, her vocal dislike of the new monkier making it a very quick favourite of his. "But the whole package is still intact so let's get that established before you go telling people falsehoods about my good person."

"Okay. Noted." Lucy held her hands up apologetically and her knees touched as she lounged against the concrete wall which was supporting her. "But you didn't answer me. Do you want to? Have sex, I mean? Last time i did was with my assigned husband and it was good enough, great even, but then he tried to kill me and it was this whole thing."

Mentally filing that information away for future use and subtle further investigation, Cooper lay back fully against his own cot and tilted his head closer in her direction, thankful for the dimness of their shared room as it shielded most of his features.

"As much as I'd love to bury my bone in a new patch of land, I don't think that's necessarily the best choice in terms of this little partnership we've stitched together."

Indicating his sewn finger, he wagged it at her dismissively as a discomforting sensation flooded his stomach, mild arousal at the thought of some tail mixing with something dangerous that set his teeth on edge.

"Why not? It's only sex."

Suddenly feeling older than he had any right to, Cooper fell silent as he mused on her question for a moment.

Lucy Maclean.

Eyes as big as a doe, that girl was built soft but he was lucky enough to see people for what they truly were and the steel which lurked beneath the painful optimism and naivety that shone free of her would make her a dangerous player if she ever truly entered the game. He felt the burden of his own cruelty at times, cornering her into making decisions that would cause her little vaultie friends to vomit if they knew the violence she enacted, but with every difficult choice came a fresh coating to that steel which would see her survive and thrive in the wastelands.

It's only sex.

In his life, Cooper Howard had enjoyed less sexual partners than many would believe. A sticky fumbling in the upper level of an old barn had been his first, the other party a sweet girl from a nearby ranch who was two years older and knew what she wanted from him. Pretty soon after that came Barb and as soon as he laid eyes on her he never saw anything past her.

War was terrible for the other men and many lost themselves in drink and the women who haunted the barracks and backlines looking for poor souls to feed on. But not him. Never him.

Not when he had to come home to Barb.

Even when married and at the height of his fame, when aspiring young things would throw themselves at him, their perfumes overpowered by the stink of wine and cigarettes, he had rebuffed them politely. He was loyal and he enjoyed the fruits of that loyalty as he held his wife in his arms and basked in the sweet sounds that she would make as they fucked. Hell, she had even given him a daughter and he loved her every day for it.

War never changes.

But he did.

And fuck him if his new appearance and designation as a Ghoul didn't screw him out of any chance of some stress relief as he wandered the wastelands. Might as well have been a fucking leper for all the tail which was now afforded to him and his leathery visage.

Not for Lucy Maclean though.

She, it seemed, didn't care about any of that.

"Did I say something wrong? The leaders explained all acts of intercourse to us so I know what I'm doing and I consent fully."

Lucy's voice, heated with an almost defensive lilt, broke into his musings and Cooper blinked at her as the hole that made up his nose flared while he inhaled deeply.

"I don't doubt that, darling. I've seen how you handle a pistol." Reverting to his typical sarcasm as he looked, truly looked, at her, Cooper sighed at the earnestness which oozed from her features. "But I'm gonna have to decline. Politely."

"Is it because of me? Did i do somethig wrong? I mean, my husband didn't seem to mind but then he was planning on killing me anyway so y'know?" Making a wild gesture with her fingers as she spoke, the casualness of her speech wasn't enough to mask the genuine insecurity which threaded through the questions.

"You're fine. Attractive little thing, even. I think any man would jump at the chance to have you wrapped around them like an old holster."

He wasn't lying- and he wasn't blind. She was a good looking young woman, her innocence flickering like the dull embers of a welcoming fire in the darkness of the wastelands. She was enthusiastic, eager, and damn pretty with those big eyes and curved figure which hid beneath the bulky clothes which she used for protection. More than once he'd caught himself glancing at her as she bent to snatch up things from the floor and the few times he did allow himself to fall into something like sleep featured breathy moans and the feeling of long, brunette strands brushing through his ungloved hands. Mouthy too so he knew she would be a vocal one - probably yowling like a hellcat.

It would be so easy to have her.

A simple yes and she would no doubt leap into action, shedding those clothes as quickly as did her weapons when trying to find peaceful solutions to violent problems. He would treat her right, everh inch the gentleman cowboy and no doubt much better than that shady husband she'd unwittingly fucked. He'd show her things with his fingers and mouth that would have her screaming loud enough to wake up all the devils in hell. Against the cot, against the wall and against whatever furniture she wanted, he could show her how a real man treats a woman as they both burned off some stress.

Feeling a very definite stirring in his groin, Cooper was quick to banish the dangerous thoughts.

"But a bad man like me shouldn't be allowed near a pretty little thing yourself. You're ready for a lot, Lucy Maclean, but you ain't ready for that."

Something almost like understanding passed through her gaze and Lucy nodded, instead exhaling deeply as she tapped the back of her head against the wall behind her.

"In that case, would you mind leaving for an hour so that I can masturbate, please?"

Cursing himself for the little shred of morality which plucked at his heart and refused to allow him to ruin this unknowing tease of a woman, Cooper dutifully rose to his feet and marched to the nearby door.

"You get half an hour." He grunted, barely tilting his head towards her as he stormed out into the nighttime air - determined to get far enough away that there was no chance that he would hear her and break his determined stance.

Besides, he might not be fucking her but as his cock pressed against his slacks, he wasn't masochistic enough to deny himself a similar pleasure and the distance would also give him some much needed alone time.

Goddamn Lucy Maclean.

Links to rest of the series:

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

[schrodingers-romy]

Jilted (not) Lover [Mitsuya Takashi x Reader]

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2,100 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Takashi is your best friend (who you have some more than friendly feelings for); so you don't understand why he never seems to want to spend time with you anymore.

Warnings: mild misunderstandings, kissing, no gendered terms for reader; reader is a bit insecure, and Takashi is a little less emotionally mature than normal.

Notes: wasn't feeling good so I finally sat down and wrote an idea I've had for a while. Probably needs more editing but I want to let it finally fly free

You thought nothing of barging into your best friend’s room; after all, he gave you a spare key for a reason. “Takashi!” you called excitedly. “They let me off work early today! Do you wanna maybe go out and do something? I heard there was a new—”

You were cut off before you could even finish. “I’m sorry,” Takashi said, not even bothering to raise his eyes from the patterns in front of him. “I really need to finish this today.”

“Oh,” you said, deflating slightly. “Well, I could just hang around here if you want some company. I can help too!”

Still, you received barely any acknowledgement. “I’ve got it, I just need to focus. I’ll see you later, though.”

Your smile felt brittle. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll go see Yuzuha then. Don’t forget to show me your new design when you’re done.”

The door clicked shut softly behind you.

Later, you heard from Yuzuha that Takashi went out to the arcade with Hakkai that same day. You were hurt, but you wanted to think the best. Takashi probably just finished early and assumed you were busy. It was nothing.

Except it wasn’t.

-

Ever since the two of you met in middle school, you had never gone more than a few days without hanging out. Throughout high school you basically lived at his house, becoming almost like another sibling to his sisters. Even once you both graduated and got different jobs, the two of you spent most of your free time together. (Enough time together for you to develop a horrible infatuation with him, at the very least.)

And yet, for two weeks straight Takashi had been completely blowing you off.

He was always busy with last minute designs, or he had to take his sisters to something, or he already had plans with Draken or Hakkai or the old Toman members. Normally, he would ask you to tag along, but he barely talked to you other than to let you know he couldn’t see you or spend time with you.

You never said anything, keeping a nonchalant tone around him. But god, did it hurt. You didn’t know what you did wrong to deserve this treatment; you couldn’t remember anything. Maybe he had just finally gotten tired of you and was trying to let you down easy.

You did your best to ignore those thoughts. It’s Takashi, you thought. If there was something wrong, he would communicate with you. It was probably nothing. (You needed to tell yourself that to keep from breaking down.)

-

Even though your relationship with Takashi was at a standstill, you still talked to his sisters.

Today, you had come over to make the girls lunch before they left to go hang out with their friends. Takashi hadn’t come out from his room when you called.

[“It’s fine,” you said, “I know he’s busy.”

The girls gave each other a look when they thought you weren’t paying attention. At least these Mitsuyas noticed something was up, you thought bitterly.]

They were long gone, after thanking you for the food and each giving you an awkward teenager hug on the way out. You have the rest of the day free, so you take your time cleaning the dishes, in the pathetic hope that Takashi will come out and you two will go back to normal.

You think that your prayers are answered when you see him come down the stairs. He seems a little surprised to see you still there, and he gives you a small, distracted smile. Your heart flutters as you smile back.

You think he’s coming towards you, but he walks right by the kitchen and heads towards the door instead. “Thanks for making lunch for the girls. I’m sure it was great,” he says, lingering for a moment. “You can leave the rest of the dishes; I’ll get them when I come back.”

“Oh. Where are you going?” you ask. You can hear a nearly imperceptible buzzing in your ears. You wonder if you’re angry or just sad; it’s hard to tell sometimes.

“Just out with Draken. I’ll see you later, yeah?” He’s already opening the door to leave.

You try to keep your composure, but the way you slam the plate as you set it on the counter is telling. “Yeah. See you later, I guess.” You wince. Even to your own ears, you sound bitchy. And you were doing so well in keeping it straight...  

There is a second of hesitation, and then the door closes. You busy yourself with drying the remaining dishes, not bothering to look up. Takashi probably left already.

But then you hear his footsteps as he comes into the kitchen. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks.

You still don’t look at him. You hate how concerned he sounds. Because of course he noticed how snotty you sounded; it wasn’t subtle. And Takashi was nothing if not a mediator, so he would obviously want to talk it out. But now, even after praying for the barest scrap of his attention back, you want nothing more than for him to leave you alone. You aren’t ready for whatever sort of conversation this is going to be.

On one hand, you are still hurt by how he treated you, how he hung out with you less and less as he replaced you with Draken and Hakkai. On the other hand, you feel like you’re being nothing but a spoiled brat. Takashi doesn’t owe you anything; he’s nice, so this is probably his own way of letting you know that you were too clingy and that he needed space while trying to spare your feelings. You just don’t want to hear that out loud.

At this point, you can feel yourself getting worked up. Your own thoughts buzz in your head like a swarm of angry locusts, rattling to the ever-quickening beat of your heart in your ears. You don’t quite know if you want to cry or scream.

He’s right in front of you now; you can see his shoes sidle up next to your slipper-clad feet on the kitchen floor as you valiantly avoid eye contact.

“C’mon, talk to me,” he says, voice softening even more. Because of course he can tell you are getting more upset.

“Just go,” you say. You sound muffled in your own ears. “Go hang out with Draken, or Hakkai, or your other gang friends. I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s up.”

“Oh, now that I want you to leave me alone, you won’t.”

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean?” He sounds a little offended now, and that just makes you angrier.

You spin around to face him for the first time. You can see how his eyebrows furrow, purple eyes glistening with concern as they take in your expression.

You lose your grip on your emotions. “Oh, what does that mean? I mean you’ve been ditching me for weeks now! Every time I come around, you’re too busy, or you already have plans with someone else!” You take a deep breath, trying to rein yourself in. “Look, if you don’t want to be around me anymore, just say something. Not any of this ‘hinting’ bullshit. Just…just say something…because I honestly don’t know what’s going on, Takashi.”

Your anger burnt through you quickly, like a flashfire, and you can feel your eyes starting to water.

Takashi looks stricken. One of his hands comes up to grip yours, using it to pull you into a tight hug. It only takes one murmur of your name, spoken gently into your hair as he tucks your head underneath his chin, for you to fully break.

There are tears streaming down your face now. You start to babble. “You’re my best friend, Takashi,” you say, pitifully. “I miss you.”

You feel his arms tighten around you, until you can almost feel your bones grinding together. It kind of hurts, but you are just happy to be held. His grip loosens soon enough, and he pulls back so he can look you in the eyes.

“I fucked up.” He smiles sadly at you. “I never wanted to make you feel like that. You’re my best friend too…but I couldn’t stay like that, and I didn’t know what to do about it.”

You feel your heart drop; you don’t understand. “What’re you trying to say?”

He lets out a sigh, and then reaches to clasp both your hands in his. His eyes dart around the room, nervously, before settling back onto yours. There is a quiet intensity in them that he only has when things are serious. “I want to be more than friends. I like you…romantically. I realized it a few weeks ago…you were always so special to me, and I didn’t understand why until Draken pointed it out to me.”

He let out a light chuckle. “I treated you differently than I did everyone else because I had—have—a crush on you. I didn’t know what to do about it, so I started avoiding you. I thought I would blurt out something that would ruin our friendship. I didn’t think about how it would affect you. I’m so sorry.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. It seems so inconceivable that he would return your feelings. You don’t even know what to say, so you focus on the end of his short speech. “So much for being the emotionally intelligent one, huh?” you say, tone lighter than it has been this whole time.

He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, tilting his head down. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’m better with other people’s problems than my own. But cut me some slack, this is the first time I’ve been in love with someone before.”

You freeze. “Love?”

He already told you he had a crush on you, but this brings your thoughts to a halt. Love is a much more serious claim than a simple crush.

Takashi seems to think so as well. His face shutters. It’s clear he didn’t mean to say that much, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah. Love. But it’s okay you don’t feel the same way. I’m good with just being friends. Or whatever makes you comfortable. Um. I owe you that much after being such a shithead, huh?” He looks uncomfortable, like he is just waiting for you to reject him. Like it’s inevitable.

You give him a sharp flick on the nose. “Idiot. Who says I don’t feel the same way.”

“…You do?”

You let out a snort, fighting to keep a grin off your face. “Like I wasn’t pining after you for years. God, Takashi, I follow you like a lovesick puppy, and you didn’t catch a hint?”

You open your mouth to say something else, but you’re swept back into his arms before you can. The two of you are face to face now; from here, you get the full force of his blinding grin. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes are nothing more than crescents of purple, his pretty eyelashes nearly brushing his cheeks. He looks breathtaking.

You break out into your own smile, unable to keep the happiness off your face. You feel so light, lighter than you have in a long time. The knowledge that Takashi loves you is like a shot of dopamine straight to your brain; you feel nearly delirious from the sudden rush of happiness.

“I love you,” he says. He sounds so tender when he says it, you can’t help but tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips. It’s nothing more than a peck, but the touch of his soft mouth against yours sends sparks through your body.

“I love you too,” you say.

He looks at you in awe, before he leans down to steal another kiss from your lips, this one longer, and deeper.

You never want to leave; you would happily spend forever standing in the middle of his kitchen, trading heartfelt kisses and basking in the warmth of your love with Takashi.

-

(Draken wonders what happened to Mitsuya; he missed their hangout without so much as a “can’t make it” text. He can only hope the other boy finally got the balls to confess his feelings to you. He loves his sworn brother, but he’s getting tired of seeing Mitsuya avoid you. And he is definitely getting tired of hearing his lovesick ramblings. Well, if the two of you haven’t gotten together by now, Draken supposes he could always go with Yuzuha’s plan to lock the both of you in a closet until you worked things out.)

[aclowntiny]

🧭 Stray Kids’ Preferred PDA🧭

Bang Chan: This man is a hand around waist guy!!! Too shy to kiss in public, absolutely bold enough to have a protective hold on you especially in crowded places. He may even make a joking excuse like “can’t lose you, can I?” followed by a little chuckle that betrays the last hints of shyness residing. If the two of you are standing still, side by side in idleness, he finds himself running his hand lightly up and down your back, too. Just another gesture to show you he’s got you.

Lee Know: Will kiss you in public without giving a shit. Like will you guys be full-on making out on the corner of a street? Probably not. Will Minho randomly pull you into his lips in a Starbucks line because he wants to? Absolutely yes. Over the years, he has just gotten more comfortable with himself and satisfied with the fact that not everyone will understand him. Oh well. And you sure do, so why not let them know? He’ll get especially more affectionate if you’re wearing any sort of couple item, like he might not seem like he likes such things, but the moment he sees you you’re getting kissed.

Changbin: Man will hardly let go of your hand for a second. As long as you don’t need it or have to go somewhere else of course, but if you’re down Changbin would hold your hand almost 25/8 doesn’t matter what you’re doing. The feeling of connection is so important to him that even the simplest link carries great weight. Plus the little protective sensation of grabbing hands in the remotest of tense situations? Changbin lives for it. He wants to feel like someone you can hold onto, depend on, trust, and when you take his hand it feels possible.

Hyunjin: It’s not something he’s consciously aware of at first, but Hyunjin has a habit of tracing patterns on your back as you stand side-by-side or upon your knee when you sit together. He didn’t try to start doing it, but he wonders if it was a subconscious way of trying to record memories, sketch his happiness upon a newly comfortable space. It’s relaxing too, calms any anxiety he might feel. The moment Hyunjin becomes aware of it, though, he asks if the idle motions bother you. When you tell him of course not, it feels nice, the relief dawning upon him as he beams confirms his suspicions.

Han: His favorite thing to do when you’re out and about is to sling an arm around your shoulders. A casual gesture, but it has his chest puffing out with pride- his own little way of showing you off. Smile never failing, Jisung will sit with you in your own little world he encloses, eyes only for you. He loves having a close-up view of the way you throw your head back and laugh, a little avenue to tug you closer and sneak a quick kiss. Actually, scratch all that. His real favorite thing is when his arm is around you and you reach up to grab his hand where it falls, completing the loop of connection entirely.

Felix: Loves, loves, LOVES resting his head on your shoulder. Doesn’t matter the height difference, life Felix finds a way. Especially if you have to stand or sit somewhere for an extended period of time like a long amusement park ride line or a boring ceremony. You are his center of comfort and nestling into you is heaven on earth for him, the subtle warmth, the way his head fits perfectly in the crook of your neck, it all reminds him that you’re meant for each other. Let him stay there, he’ll have the biggest, softest smile of contentment.

Seungmin: He’d have never guessed it about himself, but the habit he develops is twirling you. Taking your hand the moment you step out dressed in something new and giving you a spin to see it all around. Raising your joined hands above his head when you’re bored just to see you giggle and complete the turn, every feature of yours he loves on full display. When you return the favor, reaching up in a clear juxtaposed lead, it brings such a genuine laugh from him he knows he’ll never forget it.

I.N: He calls it ‘standing up cuddles’, you’d call it a backhug or the like. Reaching his hands around your waist and clutching yours close, he can rest his head in the crook of your neck or maybe atop yours. Sway you both back and forth until someone caves and bursts into merry giggles. Your heartbeat against him from any angle is music to his nerves, well, so to speak, the rhythm by which he guides his impromptu slow dances with you.

[sitp-recs]

do you have any recs for drarry + workplace romance?

I definitely do, one of my favourite tropes! This list is strongly focused on office romance and as you can see it got a bit out of hand so I’m gonna link two additional rec lists that might interest you: sports AU and Quidditch fics. Enjoy!!!

Measure My Lordship With Thine Vulgar Aye by @starquestingfordrarry (M, 1k)

Draco buys some Muggle magnets for the office.

Coded Office Missives by carpemermaid (E, 2.5k)

They had an arrangement. Malfoy would send a coded memo when he needed Harry. He knew to tell his secretary to hold his appointments, and lock the door after he arrived. It was a game they started when they were just starting their careers at the Ministry; it’s something they’ve kept up all this time.

The Keepers by RenVeree (T, 3.6k)

In the Rare Books Department of the Ministry of Magic, Draco tends to unique texts and, on occasion, a certain Unspeakable.

Graffiti and Insomnia by SilentAuror (M, 4k)

Harry can't seem to sleep these days. Perhaps it's the boredom of his office job, but all that changes with a bit of graffiti in the office bathroom one day.

Never Gonna Give You Up by InnerLilith (E, 5k)

Five times Harry rickrolls Draco and one time Draco gets him back.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos (E, 6k)

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Say the words / then stay around by Teatrolley (NR, 6k)

They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad?

Interdepartmental Memos by GoldenTruth813, Henndra (E, 6k)

What do you get when GoldenTruth813 plays Harry and Henndra is Draco? An epistolary fic of course!

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose (T, 8k)

Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

Small Spaces series by @bixgirl1 (E, 8.5k)

Malfoy is like an itch under Harry's skin on an average day. It's even worse when they're trapped in a lift.

Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart, orphaned (NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

This Unexpected Windfall by mindabbles (E, 11k)

Harry doesn’t like it when Draco is called in to work one of his cases. No. He doesn’t like it at all — at least that’s what he tells himself.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites (E, 11k)

Harry James Potter, Member of the Wizengamot for Godric’s Hollow, Secretary for Transport is ill-suited for the world of wizarding politics. Enter Draco Malfoy, Director of Communications for the Minister for Magic to moonlight as his press secretary. It should solve all of Harry’s issues with the press and Draco’s issues with over-work. Theoretically.

What Real Thing? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 12k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

In Which Harry is Magnetic North and Draco Is An Idiot by bryoneybrynn (T, 13k)

For as long as he can remember, Draco’s been bringing fake dates to his family’s annual Yuletide celebration in order to evade his mother’s matchmaking. This year, Potter’s posing as his pretend boyfriend.

The World of Management (Or, Harry Potter and the Office Romance) by @moonflower-rose (E, 15k)

Draco Malfoy is the heart and soul of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. The only thing standing in the way of professional bliss is his boss. And Harry Potter.

Give Me a Quiet Mind by @wellhalesbells (T, 16k)

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again?

Ardour of Karma by @xx-thedarklord-xx (E, 17k)

“Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.” “How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”

Common and Cliché by bryoneybrynn (E, 17k)

Aurors Malfoy and Potter have to work a case on Beltane. It would be simple if everything wasn't so damn distracting.... For those of you who are wondering, yes, I've tried to cram in as many h/d clichés as possible. But hopefully the story works as a story, too. It's not crack!fic by a long shot but it is a bit tongue-in-cheek.

Knot Your Average Coworkers by @thecouchsofa (E, 22k)

It takes Harry a while to work out that every month, almost like clockwork, Draco is given an assignment in the field that takes him out of their shared office for days on end. After each assignment, Draco returns looking so bloody exhausted that Harry gears up to file a complaint with their boss.

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (E, 47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

The Darkness Before the Dawn by Ren (E, 55k)

A mysterious creature is loose in London, stalking and killing people. Auror Harry Potter requests the help of a liaison from the Beast Division and gets saddled with Draco Malfoy. Will they be able to stop the creature before it claims more lives?

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 70k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine.

Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (E, 149k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Tales From the Special Branch series by Femme (E, WIP)

When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law.

[lesbianchemicalplant]

If you're surrounded by people who call trans people by their deadnames, you're most likely in a hate group. But a possible alternate explanation is that you're in academia. And it's not because that many academics are openly transphobic -- they just don't know that the site they fully trust, Google Scholar, is telling them to do it. Google Scholar was developed in 2004 and has changed very little since then. It supplanted a lot of hard-to-use library search indices by providing a Google-style interface with a single search box. Now it's the most name-recognized site for searching for almost any paper by almost anyone. One aspect of the design was, authors are just a kind of search term. An author is a cluster of different ways to abbreviate a name, like Firstname Lastname, Firstname M. Lastname, and F Lastname, and you might see different forms in different places, but the underlying name will never change. This is because Google Scholar was built by, and for, cis men with unchanging Western-style names. The "almost anyone" who you can search for excludes trans people, among a lot of other people it represents poorly. And because Scholar will not change, it should perish.

I fought the goog, and the goog won I changed my name in research, retroactively. I broke the assumptions of Google Scholar, and Google Scholar hid my papers from search results when it couldn't model what was going on with them. It would particularly suppress search results for my new name, which were just confusing distractors for the results it really wanted to show, for my deadname. If you ask it how to cite me, it will auto-generate you a citation of my deadname. I fought hard to remove citations of my deadname, replace PDF files, take down papers I couldn't replace, take away all the evidence of my deadname that I possibly could. Not to keep it from the eyes of people, but to keep it out of the Google Scholar model. I partially succeeded in making my new name more searchable, and even got it to show up in the auto-generated citations in some circumstances. For a fleeting moment, I claimed victory. But Google Scholar countered by finding my absolute most obscure things that count as publications, ones that I can't kill because they were not really alive in the first place, and bringing them to the top of my search results, so it can use them to keep helpfully directing you to my deadname. Signing in and claiming papers on an "author page" doesn't help, because author pages are one tiny link in search results that nobody clicks through, because the papers are already right there. Most trans people quit research rather than deal with this, and even though I found myself with more energy and opportunity to fight for my name than most, I quit research too.

There! We fixed it for cis people Google knows about this. I raised the issue with them in February 2019. It became an internal bug report in July 2019, which I have never seen, but from what I've heard about it, it quickly went far astray from what I was trying to tell them. "Allies" inside Google came up with extremely dumbass theories of how to represent trans people in a way that fit Google's preconceptions. I've posted about the problem at various times on social media (mostly Twitter when that was a thing). I tweeted about how Google's name model doesn't even work for cis women, given that many women change their names at some point in their lives. This got some traction and led to an amazingly quick response, along the lines of "oh shit! We fixed it for cis women." The new feature they added allowed a person (who had claimed papers using a Google account) to link together their multiple names, as long as they were okay with all the names being shown at the top of their search results. The first trans person to try using the feature was extremely surprised and dismayed by the prominence it gave to their deadname, and asked "do you think they talked to even a single trans person about this feature?" Nobody has ever heard Anurag Acharya, the creator of Google Scholar, say anything about the problem of name changes on his platform, or really anything attributable to him at all. But I know he knows about it.

The one time we got their attention Google got banned as a sponsor of Queer in AI, partially because of Google Scholar, though if you ask most people now they'll say it's because they profit from AI weapons systems. Which is also a thing. But Google Scholar was enough of a part of the issue that an exec actually got on the phone with non-Googlers about it for the first time. The exec was Jeff Dean, head of AI, whose organization does not actually include Google Scholar. When pressed on the issue by Queer in AI, he defended Scholar's lack of name changes, saying -- I believe this to be a direct quote -- "we have to ensure accurate information". Calling trans people by their names does not fall under the category of "accurate information" to the latently transphobic Jeff Dean. In another rare instance of public communication, a couple of painfully assimilationist trans Google FTEs promoted a horrible idea where publishers would have an API for informing Google that someone's name had changed in their archives. That's right, you wouldn't control your own name, dozens of publishers would, all with their own processes ranging from gatekeepy to nonexistent, and you'd have to out yourself and beg to every one of them to press the Here's A Trans Person button. The only good thing about this proposal is that it was so obviously unworkable that they didn't do it. Aside: If you are a Google full time employee, and you are trans, you are assimilationist. I'm sorry. I know your life circumstances mean you have to be. There used to be non-assimilationists there, and they joined the union and got illegally fired in 2019, or they quit in solidarity with the people who were fired in 2019 or 2021, and that leaves you, keeping your head down and keeping your job. You're still reading this paragraph, and that's amazing, so here's what I need you to know: from your position, you cannot advocate for the needs of trans non-Googlers, unless you allow trans non-Googlers into the conversation. Contract workers, though, you're cool. You fought for a trans man, working at a Google data center, to stop having to wear his deadname on his badge, and you won.

There is a solution I know that Google would not invest a lot of development effort into fixing a pet project like Google Scholar (though, again, "we fixed it for cis women" came remarkably quickly). I know that Google is institutionally incapable of letting people control their own identity without being a gatekeeper, that it's just not in the realm of things they dream of. There is still a solution. It's so easy. It plays to Google's strengths. There's even a business argument for it. They just need to shut it down. Google Scholar can have a plot in the Google graveyard next to Hangouts, Picasa, AngularJS, Cardboard, Inbox, Orkut, Knol, and the dearly departed Reader. It will be missed, for a bit, and then real librarians and archivists can get back to doing the job that Google monopolized. They'll know how to do it better this time. The Internet Archive is already doing it, and they let trans people change their names. I made a site about all this, scholar.hasfailed.us. I haven't been raising the issue enough since the fall of Twitter, and I think it's time that I get back to it.