#desperately hoping some fans of it are still out there

[melk-maid]

warnings: everyone is aged up 21+, fluff, a little angst in the backstory, stsg mentioning (canon flirting honestly), first kisses. synopsis: you isolate yourself to the music room of Jujutsu Technical College on a rainy day, planning to wallow in your lost dreams of fame.

note: this is a reupload! this was a secret santa for the amazingly talented @lydybyrd!! enjoy~♡ minors & ageless blogs dni - you will be blocked

You dream of a sold out stadium, hundreds of thousands of fans cheering and singing along to lyrics you have written, all eyes on you as you perform your latest songs. The rush would be incredible, a feeling of euphoria that's impossible to be replicated. Knowing— seeing how many lives you've touched and changed in unimaginable ways, connected to all these people with the power of music.

Instead, you're sat in front of a grand piano watching raindrops beat against the window, trying desperately to avoid your real life responsibilities as a sorcerer.

Fingers press down on the keys lazily, holding the note to drown out the doom and gloom of your situation. Whenever life gets tough you always fall back into the fantasy, a world you'll never see. It was like a second home in your mind when you were a kid, bouncing around the foster system until you were picked up by Jujutsu Tech, no one ever understood you nor did they care enough to try. All you wanted was to be normal, to live the same life as anyone else your age, reach for the stars in the hopes to make your lifelong dreams of being a musician come true. Hell, you'd take being a music teacher or some kind of background job if you couldn't be in the limelight. Anything that would allow you to fill your life with music and instruments. Sadly, you're forced to work and use your unique abilities as a jujutsu sorcerer to rid the world of dangerous curses and hope you don't die in the process.

As selfish as it is, you don't care to fight curses. Those are the cards you've been dealt and no one wanted you because of your unique ability; even when you begun to hide it, there was still something about you that families didn't care for. As grateful you are to be in a safe and stable environment at the school, it hinders your dreams.

You blink and reality begins to set in again; the grey shadows against the walls from the miserable weather, a small chill of the cold winds breaking into the building, the guilt over hiding from your responsibilities.

Your hands move on their own accord, playing something off of the top of your head. Whatever feels right at the time, a way to express your emotions through the notes, something you've never been good at doing the old fashioned way. Talking is hard but communicating everything you feel through an instrument is much easier. You wish to fly but you're tied down by the chains at your feet, they keep you grounded and obedient, watching as your dream slowly begins to vanish in the distance.

Suguru hears the piano as soon as he enters the building. Assigned to look for you by Yaga, he had a funny feeling he knew where you'd be after your dorm room turned up empty. The music room is only ever used by you — it was built for you after all the begging and noise that disrupted other students in the dorms. He'll never forget the bright smile or the shine in your eyes when the designated room was finished, or how you spent every waking moment playing the piano. It's clear your passion lies in music and it was the moment Suguru realised just how much he wants to see that look on your face everyday.

The tune makes a home in his chest, notes surrounding his heart and tugging on the strings. He feels the emotions being conveyed through such a delicate tune, the somber tone that echoes through the hall. Suguru creeps towards the music room, remaining quiet so as not to spook you. The door is open ever so slightly, giving him an easy view of your back at the piano. He slots himself between the sliding door and frame, leaning with his hands in his pockets, watching as you play entirely unaware of his presence.

Your hands seem to move with ease, not a single key out of place or hesitancy. It's as though you knew this piece by heart, that you're an expert and you've played these notes thousands of times before. The song speaks to him, though he can't be sure why — the beauty of music is that it can resonate with everyone differently, still connecting them through a mutual enjoyment.

When the keys begin to fade off, Suguru says, "Can I join you?"

The once quiet and peaceful room is suddenly shrouded with the sound of A0 bouncing menacingly off the walls. You panicked hearing Suguru behind you, your heart and body jumping, grabbing onto the piano for leverage.

Turning around you try to relax your racing heart. "How long have you been there?" Playing something like that is so incredibly vulnerable to you. It feels as though you were exposing your soul through the music — you didn't anticipate an audience to see you bare all.

For a moment there's a flash of surprise on Suguru's face, worried about your reaction but it quickly melts into a sweet and innocent smile. "Not long," He steps into the room towards you, "That song was beautiful, did you write it?"

You try and soften your features as you shake your head. "Not exactly."

You've performed for the other students and alumni at the school over the years but those are controlled, you know people are watching and listening to you, you don't have to show them parts of you that you don't want them to see. It's almost embarrassing knowing Suguru heard any of that — as though he could see right through you now.

"I was just playing whatever came to mind." You explain briefly, turning back to the piano and trying not to let the anxiety consume your already weary heart.

Suguru hums but he doesn't poke the wound, instead he says, "Can you teach me?"

For a moment you look surprised, making him wonder if he'd said something wrong — until you nod quickly and shuffle on the stool to give him room. While the stool is quite long, Suguru still sits almost on the edge with your hips and thighs pressed flush to one another. It sends sparks throughout your body, missing the way he smiles softly and the dusting of pink on his cheeks.

"What do you know already about playing the piano?"

"Not much," He traces his fingers over the keys, "My family didn't care much for music."

You smile pitifully towards your lap and try to remember when you first learned how to play as a kid. It's difficult trying to think of the basics that are instinctual to you, but are integral steps to learn in playing for someone with zero experience. Fingers spread over the keys, you play a couple of simple notes in a short melody, something slow that should be easy to keep up with. "Now you try."

He's unsure and it shows in the way he tries to place his hands like yours once were. You return to the keys you'd played, hovering your hands over the white teeth and watching as violet eyes check your placement before comparing and adjusting his own. Being on a different part of the keyboard, Suguru's tune was bound to sound different to yours, but it wasn't correct for his first try.

"Spread your fingers out a little more." You instruct and spread your fingers further for emphasis. Pressing the keys even slower this time, you count aloud with each press. "One, two, three…"

This time is a little better, though he is a little heavy handed in the way he presses the keys — almost like he's trying to break the piano in the process. You giggle and Suguru feels his heart begin to soar at the sound, unable to stop the goofy smile that spreads across his face as he looks over at you. "Was that not good?"

"You're slamming the keys; relax a little, like this—"

You're in his space, moreso than before, with your hands gently laid on top of his. So much smaller in comparison, your palm rests over his knuckles just to reach the tips of his fingers with your own. It was so casual the way you moved over him and Suguru was hoping you don't feel the slight shake of his hands in excitement.

"One, two, three…" You count, pressing his fingers down with your own as guidance. Much more gentle, melodic and natural.

Your intention was to teach him, completely unaware of how intimate this position was. When you came to, you pulled away as quickly yet naturally as you could, hoping he didn't notice how quickly your palms had begun to sweat. Clearing your throat of the lump that had formed there, you take a breath and praise him quietly before quickly moving on to another tune.

It wasn't much more complicated than the last, but Suguru puposely messes it up. The first few times you try and help guide him without touching him, though you couldn't decide if he was playing with you or not — especially not when he was smiling and laughing as you playfully scolded him.

Eventually, you give in and lay your hands over his again, counting as you press his fingers; Suguru wasn't paying attention to the piano, rather, his head was turned to look at you. It takes a second for you to realise, looking up at him when he doesn't respond to something you'd said. Your cheeks instantly heat up in embarrassment from both the proximity of your faces and your cluelessness.

The small smirk that tugs on his lips makes your heart stop beating.

It feels like time has stopped, his face moving in so slowly towards you that you can't be sure if it's you or him that's moving. Suguru's hot breath fans over your lips and you find yourself eager to steal it.

"Can I kiss you?"

A stupid question, you think — even stupider is the way you have to supress yourself from screaming 'yes!' You're trying to be subtle and cool about it, but you hands are sweating and likely shaking from adrenaline and they're still laid atop of his, completely blowing your non-chalant cover. Because your voice will fail you, you hum in response.

Suguru's lips are sweet and soft. As though they were meant just for you, you slot together like puzzle pieces. Nothing could even begin to match the overwhelming and delicate sensation of his lips on yours. Sparks of excitement tear through you and suddenly everything is okay. Your past is to be forgotten, your pesent isn't ideal but this moment makes up for it tenfold — you feel like you can conquor anything in the future as long as Suguru can kiss you like this.

The kiss doesn't last as long as you'd have liked (forever) and you force yourself to remain cool and casual about the kiss, despite the childlike grin that's spread across your face, and the fact you can hardly look him in the eye. You hope your flushed cheeks arent as noticable as they feel. Such a special and sweet moment that will be cherished by you both, if only it weren't ruined moments later.

There's a gagging noise that tears the pair of you from the dream-like state you resided in, Gojo calls attention to himself from the doorway of the music room. Leaning between the doorframe and half open door, he leans his upper body through the door and wears a scowl of annoyance. Glasses hanging down his tilted head, those playful blue eyes give away his act.

"Break it up love birds! Suguru is my partner in crime, only." Gojo barks, "And I'm not willing to share with anyone."

Your flushed face grows hotter in embarrassment of being caught sharing your first kiss with Suguru. While there are worse people to catch you both — Utahime comes to mind — Gojo is the king of making a big deal from nothing.

"Stop being so jealous," Suguru teases, sliding his hands from beneath yours and you realise you'd remained intertwined the whole time.

"I'm not jealous." Gojo huffs as he storms into the room, practically dragging Suguru out of the stool beside you. "I was worried the strongest duo would be split up when we have a mission."

Suguru furrows his brows in confusion, not bothering to pull away from his best friends hand around his arm. "We don't have a mission today — unless it's an emergency."

"It is an emergency." Gojo grins. "I need to go eat ice cream, and you," He points a slender finger towards Suguru, "Need to come with me."

You release the breath you'd been holding, worried that an emergency mission would somehow include you too. It's not often you're sent on missions with them, but Yaga has been known to do so as punishment.

Suguru playfully pushes Gojo's shoulder. "Get ice cream by yourself, or do you need me to hold your hand?"

"Would you kindly?" Gojo responds, holding his hand out and you feel like the third wheel of this relationship.

"Have you guys finished flirting? I have practise." You lie, but you aren't interested in watching the man who just kissed you proceed to play around with his friend in front of you.

Gojo takes the hint easily, running out of the room after Suguru confirmed he would go help him get some ice cream despite the rainy weather. He remains for a moment beside the stool, almost bashful as he says, "Would you be willing to teach me more tomorrow?"

It's obvious he isn't suggesting the brief piano lessons.

"Yeah," You bite your lip and giggle, "I can teach you."

When Suguru finally leaves the music room, closing the door behind him, you wait for a few seconds to ensure he'd made his way down the hall to catch up with Gojo. Then, you practically slam your hands onto various keys of the piano and squeal with elation.

[lambsgod]

so much of her taste had been defined by what her parents allowed her to consume growing up, and at times she forgot that she was a grown adult who was allowed to like whatever she liked. it wasn't easy to fully blossom into her own person while she was still living with at home, and for the most part she still lived her life in accordance with what they deemed was best for her, but listening to stevie's music and detailing all her graphic fantasies in her fan letters had been one of her few acts of rebellion. she was allowed to explore anything she wanted in her fictional universe, and now that she had the real thing right there in front of her— or, behind her, rather— it was surreal, and a part of her was still certain she must be dreaming. "i— yes?" her attempt at enthusiasm wasn't nearly as convincing as she'd intended it to be, the nerves she felt having no choice but to express themselves through her tone. she did want him to fuck her. she'd told him she did dozens of times now, and she couldn't let something as irrational as anxiety ruin what could be a once in a lifetime chance. as he rose to stand back up and got a better view of her bare chest, her mind decided to flip through every explicit thing she'd ever written about him, blushing profusely and looking off to the side to avoid accidentally meeting his eyes. things had gotten pretty filthy, and for some reason it was the written fantasies that she felt more embarrassed about than the photos. to know what she looked like was one thing, but to know all the filthy thoughts she'd been keeping to herself all this time was much more revealing. she could only hope he wasn't expecting her to bring everything she'd written to life, but she had given him full permission to do whatever he wanted to her in one particularly desperate letter, and she couldn't just go back on her word after spending so long emphasizing how badly she wanted him. her lashes fluttered as he toyed with her nipple, inadvertently shifting her hips back to rub herself closer to his bulge with a soft sigh of satisfaction. "thank you," she breathed, finally lifting her gaze to meet his in the mirror. what she saw was nearly unrecognizable, a version of herself that only came out when she was writing one of her letters or taking a photo, only this time, she actually had the subject of her obsession stood right there pressed up behind her. taking advantage of her momentary streak of boldness, kitty reached back and grasped his other hand, bringing it around to the front of her and down beneath her skirt to meet the wet folds of her cunt.

it wasn't the first band that stevie had been a part of, in his teens he had jumped from group to group, searching for a level of control over their creative process that most people hadn't been willing to give him. he knew what he wanted to say and hadn't been willing to let anyone compromise his message in favour of commercial success. their music would find the people it needed to in time and most people simply hadn't been willing to wait and hope that he was right. he was, of course, he almost always tended to be. now, it wasn't only societal outcasts like him who were listening to his music, sweet, unassuming girls like kitty had also joined the fray alongside other less typical listeners and his initial mission to spread a message had come into being. fucking his fans hadn't meant to be a part of the deal but kitty was special, she'd proven her dedication in more ways than one and it felt wrong to deny her of what she'd been craving. not many girls would have the balls to mail nude photos of themselves to a total stranger and it made her supposed shyness all the more intriguing to him. how was this the girl who had sent him letters detailing all the different ways she wanted him? polaroids playing with her tits, her hand down her cutesy panties, he might not have believed they were the same person had he not recognised the necklace she wore as being the same shown in some of the photos. her nerves were palpable, practically radiating off from her skin in waves that stevie could feel as he greedily grabbed at her flesh but he knew she'd be okay once she let herself go and focus on his touch, not how strange it must've been to be finally getting the thing she'd been dreaming about for months. as she struggled to undress herself following his command, he let his teeth gently sink into the tender meat of her ass for a brief moment then dragged his tongue over the mark, pausing to watch her pale skin blush then grow milky again before he pulled back. "that's what you want, isn't it?" it wasn't a real question, instead yet another reference back to all her filthy letters, the ones in which she described in graphic detail how she wanted his cock in a vast plethora of different positions. she might've felt shy now that she was having to reconcile with everything she'd said and done in the privacy of her room now being addressed with the object of all her smutty desires but he saw nothing for her to feel shameful about. she'd taken action to get what she wanted and this was her reward, the oppertunity to re-enact whatever whatever she wished. slowly, stevie rose up onto his feet once again and looked at kitty through her reflection in the mirror, his gaze naturally falling to her newly exposed tits as he brought a hand around to rest beneath her stomach, thumb barely brushing the underside of her breast. "think about how long you've been begging for it... making yourself cum all over those pretty, pristine sheets to the thought of a total fucking stranger... it'd be a shame not to give you what you've worked so hard for." his erection was still pressing against her ass while his hand finally moved up to tweak one of her rosy nipples between his calloused fingers. "i'm not gonna make you beg any more than you have in those slutty letters. i'll give you what you need."

[gilly-moon]

Please tell me someone else remembers the absolutely stunning BL manga that is Adekan. Like??? The detailing and coloring of these illustrations were mind blowing to me as a budding artist:

Plus the absolutely ridiculous heels and sensual arch in the back of every last prettyboy in the cast:

The manga itself was also insanely impressive with all its finely-detailed linework and I remember the premise being REALLY intriguing.

Umbrella salesman/ex-assassin who teams up with the local officer occasionally to help solve the strange crimes of their town? Plus even more deep lore I'm totally forgetting about??? I spent years obsessed with this series and idk if it ever finished but it came to me in my formative years as an artist and left a permenant mark on my soul.

EDIT: The manga is still ongoing!!!!! Which means it's time for a reread ♡

[wyniepooh]

Loving him was never enough

you don’t have what logan needs, but he still takes all that he can.

Cage fighter!logan x reader. Mentions of violence. Porn with a little bit of plot. mdni; 18+

thinking about being logan’s plaything in his cage fighting days.

It’s not uncommon for the fighters to have a girl around their arms as they enter the ring, and though Logan usually resists against the fan girls who clamour around him in a frenzy, he figures a sweet thing like you could only do him some good.

Not only does it piss the other fighters off, (they hate to see the king of the cage also have a pretty girl like you beside him) turns out, you’re not half bad for company either.

You’re an anxious little thing, brows furrowed and eyes teary before every match. Logan doesn’t bother telling you that he’ll be fine, that he’s going to win guaranteed, that his punch is as hard as metal. Literally.

He hates to admit it, but he finds it endearing, the way you’re so worried for him. through his nonchalant front, he still wipes away your tears with his large hands before every match and reassures you, cooing, “I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

When logan gets in the ring, the fight goes exactly as he expects it to go. The other guy is destroyed before logan even shows his true strength. In a spiteful and humiliating position, the fallen guy comments something like, “I’ll fuck your pretty girlfriend dumb.”

Logan hears, of course, and though the guy is already bleeding and sprawled over the mat on the ground in a pathetic display, and though logan definitely didn’t consider you his girlfriend, he throws the announcer to the side and pounces. Through gritted teeth and a bleeding forehead, he catches your eye, shaking his head lightly before knocking the other guy out.

You wait for him in the small public washroom afterwords, arms crossed and pouting. As Logan approaches the door and sees your stiff pacing around the room, he knows you’re mad. And he knows it won’t stay that way.

“‘was so worried, logan,” you practically run towards him, “why’d you have to go after him like that? he could’ve really hurt you.”

He scoffs and flashes you the fresh wad of cash. “Hurt me? Please.”

He stays still for as long as he can bear while you dab at the wound on his head with your sleeve, silently hoping you wouldn’t notice the red cut slowly healing by itself. When you try to touch his face, to run a finger down his cheek and his stubble, he grabs your wrist harshly to stop you.

You’re confused, confused as to why he allows you to trail along to his every fight and wipes your tears with such a gentle hand, but refuses to let you in. He doesn’t give you much time to think, though, because as soon as you part your lips to speak, he’s picking you up from under your arms and sitting you down on the cold sink counter.

there’s an aggressive desperation behind his kiss, probably produced by the adrenaline of the recent fight and triggered by the soft whine he heard from you when his teeth knocked against yours. His hand reaches down between your legs and drags your panties to the side, and before long, you’re biting his shoulder and mumbling, “‘gonna cum, logan, please, let me cum.”

He does, drawing out your short orgasm with a few more pumps of his fingers and a graze over your clit. When he’s done, you’re practically already numb, head limp on his shoulder as you hear the metal clinking of his belt.

“You want this?” He asks, holding your head up by your chin as he tilts his head and raises his brows. “You want me?”

You nod feverishly, half-lidded eyes flickering as you breathe, “yes, logan. need you.” Your head falls back against the mirror, and he looks down with a grin at the sight in front of him.

he hooks his arms around your knees to bring you closer before you take him to the hilt in one go, burying a mewl into his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist. The first thrust burns, always does, but only he can make you forget the pain in an instant. Soon, your hands are tangled in his hair, his beard is rubbing against your neck, and you’re begging, “please, lo, need it so bad. “ Logan fucks exactly like how he fights, thrusting into you so sharply your ass is sliding back on the metal counter with each movement of his hips.

He’s done this enough times to know what makes you whine and dig your fingernails into his back, but he still demands, every time, “that feel good, baby? you like that?” Of course, you don’t have to answer for him to know that it does, that it does feel good, so incredibly good, and that he’s hitting all the right spots in the body only he knows so well.

You aren’t the only one filling the room with lewd noises. Logan is panting too, the echoes of his each and every grunt reflecting off of every corner in the room and into your ear. It only makes your cheeks flush hotter, only encourages your hips to move more eagerly to match his pace.

It’s always when he’s just about there that Logan pulls back and looks down at where the two of you are connected, slowing down his strokes to slowly watch his bulging cock sink deep into your slopping cunt.

It’s the only opportunity with logan that you get to really look at him, to see the raw expression of euphoria on his face, teeth bared and mouth open. Some strands of previously gelled hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes rolling back with each press of his pelvis. Your eyes trace the sweat on his shoulder, the hair on his chest peaking from behind his white wife-beater, and the vein on his stomach that connects to the one on his dick.

You gaze flickers back at his face, and you extend a hand to guide his head towards you. He tries to turn away, as usual, and you hate that you know he’s holding back; limiting the noises he’s making, the pace he’s taking.

“Just use me, Logan. I know you want to,” you plead against his lips, inhaling a gasp as you press your lips onto his. You expect him to pull away, to push your head to the side and focus on finishing the other task at hand, but this time, he only pulls you closer, one hand around your waist and the other on the back of your head. He doesn’t give you much time to be shocked before he resumes his previous pace, drilling into you with the same vigor, albeit a bit more sloppy than before.

Logan pulls back to catch his breath, and at the same time, you clench tightly around him. A low groan escapes him, a noise so animalistic and fervent that you reach your high right then and there, shrieking as your legs begin to shake.

He’s close too, you can feel it in his breathing, so you let him fuck you beyond your orgasm, even if it’s getting to be too much and you’re losing your thoughts by the second.

“nobody— ah— fucks my girlfriend,” he suddenly growls, lifting you up from under your arms and shoving you against the tiled wall. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to look into his hazel gaze as he spits, “n-nobody fucks you like I do.”

He plummets into you deep, leaning his lips in and making you swallow one last groan of his before you feel his warm release fill your insides.

When he’s done, Logan is supporting all your weight, your limp arms splayed around his sweaty back. You whimper at the emptiness as he pulls out, feeling his cum languidly drip down your inner thighs.

You’re too exhausted to realize what he just said, to react to what he just referred to you as, and as the fog of pleasure slowly unclouds Logan’s head, he’s glad he fucked you stupid enough to forget.

-

a/n: anyone else feel like they’re incapable of writing good smut? Hey Google how many other synonyms could there possibly be of the word ‘thrust’?

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Actor

The Golden Age of Hollywood. Stars are born every day and you're desperate to become one. Thanks to @laboodanda for requesting this!

Yandere! Actor who's well established in the industry - his name on the Walk of Fame, his face on all the posters, his agents calling day and night with new offers.

Yandere! Actor who meets you on the set of his latest movie. You're barely even part of the main cast - just a side character with a few lines. But you sparkle.

You have that razzle dazzle in you that makes a true star.

Yandere! Actor who knows it's just a matter of time before you make it big. You've already got your foot in the door and all it takes is a lucky break.

Yandere! Actor who comes up to talk to you during lunch, winks at you and grins at the way you blush. You're in awe of him and it takes a second before you can answer his questions.

Yandere! Actor who's used to starstruck fans, to women who shriek when he looks their way. But, it's somehow new and endearing when you're the one looking at him like that.

He can hear the other extras rushing to your side when he leaves, babbling about how lucky you are that he talked to you, the big stars never notice the little fish.

On the final day of filming, he congratulates you on your first ever role and invites you to dinner to celebrate.

Yandere! Actor who takes you to a cozy restaurant in a quiet seaside neighbourhood. He doesn't want to be interrupted by fans, but he also doesn't want to be seen in public with you. At least not yet.

You really impress him. You know quite a lot about acting techniques, about getting into and maintaining character, about catering to the camera.

But it's clear you're still a rookie. There's a slight nervousness to you that veteran starletts don't have. It's alright - he'll train it out of you in no time.

Yandere! Actor who shares he milkshake with you and offers you his jacket when the sea wind starts to nip.

When he drops you off, he squeezes your thigh and says he'll talk to his agent about you, that there might be a role in his next movie for such a pretty little thing.

Yandere! Actor who sees the innocent, love struck look in your eyes and revels in it.

Pretty soon he calls you and tells you about a private audition with some studio execs.

"Keep your hair loose and wear that short sundress you wore on our date."

It should be friendly advice, so why does it sound like an order?

The audition is in one of the studio's offices. A room filled with big shot executives and egotistical directors. Men in suits who are high on their own power, their own genius. They've seen a thousand hopeful girls and to them you're no different.

The way they look at you makes you feel like dirt, like the most untalented person in the whole world. You would have walked out then and there if it wasn't for him.

Yandere! Actor who volunteers to read the lines with you. He winks and smiles at you and by just being there makes you feel so much better. And a few sentences in, you find your stride. Immerse yourself in the scene.

You're playing the part of a jilted lover, a woman who gave everything to her man and has her heart shattered when he leaves. In the final act, you grab his collar and look up at him with tears in your eyes, your voice shaking.

"Please, please don't go. I love you. I need you."

You raise one hand to his cheek, your fingers trembling. "Don't you love me too?"

Yandere! Actor who actually forgets his line.

You're looking up at him so weak, so vulnerable that his mind goes blank. His director calls out the line and he repeats it blankly.

"And...End scene!"

Yandere! Actor who doesn't look away from you even when the directors start clapping and you turn to give them a bow. You were so raw that it didn't feel like a performance. The tears, the desperate way you pulled at him... It felt so real.

It's only when his agent slaps him on the back that he manages to snap out of it.

The director is already grabbing your arm and insisting to the studio executives that he needs you in his next movie.

Yandere! Actor who comes up behind you and drapes his arms around your shoulders. You don't realise it but he's staking his claim, showing all these rich and powerful men that anything to do with you has to go through him. He grins at his agent.

"She's perfect, isn't she?"

The man lowers his shades and drags his eyes across your body.

"You need to clean up her look a little, but you were right. She's the perfect girl for you."

You feel like there's more behind their conversation, things they've discussed that you aren't privy to. But you don't have the nerve to ask.

On your way out of the studio, Yandere! Actor curls his arm around your waist.

"You're gonna be a lead actress soon baby. The execs want you in a few supporting roles first, just to get you used to the camera, but the director has his mind set on you."

You smile at him, a megawatt grin filled with the thrill of having your dream come true. It makes him feel like the centre of your world, makes him feel like a man.

You throw your arms around his neck and hug him. "I owe you! Thank you thank you thank you thank -"

He cuts you off with a kiss. And in that moment you really do feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Yandere! Actor who slowly takes over your beauty routine. Who tells your hairdresser exactly what shade to tint your hair, exactly what shape to thread your eyebrows. Who buys you new clothes and tells you exactly how to style them.

You don't realise it, but he's shaping your look into something that compliments his own.

Yandere! Actor who almost invites you to his movie premiere until his agent advises against it. Who kisses you and apologises and says he'll bring you to the next one.

You understand, you really do. You're still relatively unknown and having you on his arm would just invite gossip. But it still stings watching him go to the premier on his own, his arm around his beautiful co-star. You go to bed that night with doubts nagging at your mind.

It's only when you hear him knocking at your door at three in the morning that your insecurities go silent.

Yandere! Actor who's still wearing his tuxedo from the red carpet. His hair falling out of its slicked back style as he dangles a bottle of champagne in front of you.

"Gotta celebrate with my girl."

He's barely three steps into your apartment before he's kissing you, his hands on your waist and dropping lower.

You try and push him away. Tell him it's your first time.

Yandere! Actor who nips at your neck. "Don't worry, 'm gonna be so gentle."

When you still try and slip away, he pulls back to look in your eyes. Despite the haze of alcohol, there's something piercing about the way he looks at you.

"How many girls can say their first time was with a Hollywood star?"

Yandere! Actor who let's his fingers climb higher up your thighs.

"I've been workin' so hard to make you an actress. Don't I get a reward?"

How are you supposed to say no to a man who holds your future in his palm? You nod your head just the slightest and he's back to kissing you, back to drawing you hands to his belt, back to growling in your ear.

Yandere! Actor who's a shameless liar. He isn't gentle with you at all.

Yandere! Actor who wakes up all groggy and hungover the next morning. Who pulls you closer to him and falls asleep again with his head on your chest. You look down at his dark hair and his chiseled features and for a little while, it doesn't feel like such a bad deal. Love him in exchange for a career.

And he is so easy to love.

Yandere! Actor who encourages the director to start filming your movie as soon as possible. A romance between a thief (you, in your very first lead role) and a jaded detective with a heart of gold (him, who's had so many lead roles he's lost count).

The schedule is gruelling and the director is a tyrant, but this is your big break. You give it everything you have. You learn the script inside and out, badger the screen writer until she discusses your character arc with you, follow the director around and beg him for tips.

Yandere! Actor who adores working with you. You're sweet and pliable and the chemistry between you is sizzling. Every scene with you makes him need a cold shower and a priestly intervention.

Yandere! Actor who pulls you into his trailer every chance he gets to "read lines." But it always ends with him holding you down and kissing you, claiming it's good practice for the camera.

"Character building," he pants from between your legs. "Just getting into the mindset."

Yandere! Actor who watches with satisfaction as the movie comes along. You remind him of himself when he just started, raw talent and a burning desire to please.

Yandere! Actor who is next to you every moment he isn't needed on set. Who gives you endless advice and makes you laugh with his stories about bad takes and wardrobe malfunctions.

Part of it is to keep an eye on you - there's a jealous bit inside him that thinks of you as his creation, your talent a reflection of his training - and part of it is to spark rumours.

It works exactly as he intends. Pretty soon the magazines and radio hosts are blabbering about a possible romance between him and his relatively unknown co-star.

Yandere! Actor who's determined to make this movie a success. On the premier night, he walks down the red carpet with his arm around your waist. When the cameras are at the height of their flashing, he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you.

The next morning, the papers are raving about it and the theatres are sold out before midday.

It's a critical and commercial success. Yandere! Actor who's high on the thrill of it. Who loves driving down Hollywood Boulevard and seeing you on the billboards, who loves having Hollywood's newest darling on his arm and in his bed.

But then the letters start coming.

Yandere! Actor who snarls at the piles and piles of fan mail you receive. Maybe, if it was all innocent praise, he could have accepted it. But most of the letters are absolutely filthy.

Men writing to you from all over the country, all over the world. Describing in detail all the things they want to do to you, all the ways they want you speared on their cocks. Men who promise to treat you so sweet you'd never want to leave them and men who threaten to whip you over their knee if you don't learn to say please when they fuck you.

Yandere! Actor who's never received mail with such perversion. His fans are mostly sweet young girls who timidly describe how nice it would be to find a man like him, to get taken to prom and courted.

Yandere! Actor who becomes suspicious of every man he sees. The gaffer that looks at you too long becomes the guy who promised to find you and fill your cunt with his come. The driver who holds your hand when you climb out of the car becomes the stalker who followed you home the other night.

Yandere! Actor who keeps his arm around you whenever you're outside. Who starts keeping his gun in the glove box of his car.

It's not only strangers he needs to worry about either. The studio executives keep pressuring you with stricter and stricter contract offers. The director wants you starring in a romance role with another man. Two dozen talent agencies are crawling over glass to try and sign you.

Yandere! Actor who tells you to let him handle the contracts and paper work.

"The bastards will try and trick you out of your money and your clothes. Trust me baby, I've had to deal with plenty of shitty deals. I don't want that for you."

Yandere! Actor who knows exactly how tightly binding a contract is. And it's no coincidence that the one he has you sign binds your career almost entirely to his. It ensures that the bulk of your roles are alongside him, that he has the final say in studio disputes, that he owns the rights to your name.

The studio executives might normally never sign a deal like that, but they're desperate to get you under contract. You're a blazing star and they aren't going to lose you to a competitor.

Yandere! Actor who drinks a toast to your success and kisses you infront of all those high flying executives. Despite all the attention and awards you've earned, you still look up at him with a blind sort of hero worship. He's the goal you've always aimed for, the standard you've tried to reach. To be his girl is still so dizzying you almost can't believe it.

In bed that night, Yandere! Actor thinks about proposing, about wifing you up. The wedding would be huge, generate massive press. His next big project with you is scheduled for half a year away. Maybe do a proposal during opening night? Or better yet, at the Academy Awards? Yeah, that would get cinemas sold out even faster than kissing you on the red carpet did.

Save the wedding for a few years down the line. When your career is more established and your image might need an upgrade.

You curl against his side and moan in your sleep, brow scrunched. Cute, naive little thing, aren't you? Hollywood would swallow you up and spit you out if it wasn't for him.

Yandere! Actor who kisses your forehead as you dream about cameras and lights and action.

"Don't worry baby, I'll take extra good care of you."

Yandere! Actor who's curated his image so carefully. Who wants a girlfriend who's light and talent make him shine all the brighter.

And who better than someone who owes him her career?

Extra!! Here's a short drabble I wrote when I was brainstorming the idea with @laboodanda

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

[burningembers91]

Not Who I Want to Be - Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Thanos is tired of life, until he meets you.

A/N: I am determined to make this man likeable. Redemption story arc incoming!

Warnings: Mentions of abusive father, mentions of drug and alcohol dependency. 18+ only!

Thanos couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent 24 hours sober. He’d either been drunk, high, or both for as long as he could remember. When he was a teenager, it was a way to escape his abusive father, but the pills and drinks eventually became a crutch, one he couldn’t function without.

He still had no idea how he’d become so famous, how his music had managed to become such a hit with so many people. There were songs he didn’t even remember writing, days that were completely lost in a haze of booze and drugs. But somehow, people loved him. He was under no illusion that people loved him for who he was – he knew he was a prick. No, people loved him for his fame, his money, and his seemingly unlimited supply of narcotics.

It didn’t matter to Thanos though; he relished the attention, basked in the flirtatious attention he received from women whose names he never bothered to learn. His friends were nothing more than people desperate for fame, clinging to him in the hope he’d make them as big a name as he was.

People seemed to love his outlandish character. Every time he did something insane, his fans would go crazy for him. So, Thanos slowly became more unhinged, forgetting the little boy he’d once been, the one who’d had big dreams. He spent each night with a different woman, attending every party in Seoul. His penthouse apartment was a constant hive of activity, the people he’d picked up along the way using it as a base to get high.

He didn’t even enjoy music anymore, the words he wrote meant nothing to him. His fans constantly demanded more of him, so he worked like a dog to give them exactly what they wanted. Nothing he wrote made sense; it had no meaning, no context behind the raps. His songs were as empty as his soul; but people were eating up his words like they were gospel.

It was a usual Saturday night ritual for him to attend a club in Seoul. To make an appearance to the crowd, before getting blackout drunk. Tonight, he found himself in the throng of a sweaty crowd, so high off the pills he’d taken before coming out that he was barely clinging to existence. The usual scroungers were there, taking as many free drinks from him as they could get, posing for photos that would instantly be uploaded to Instagram for a few minutes of fame. Girls were clinging to his shirt, their slurred words ricocheting off his ears, melting into the thump thump thump of the base from the speakers to his right. He was dizzy, dehydrated and so, so fucking done with this crowd. He needed to get away, needed to breathe some fresh, sweat-free air.

Pushing himself away from his followers, he stumbled up the steps to the rooftop. It was raining, the wind pushing the droplets sideways into his face. If it was cold, his body didn’t feel the chill. It had been a long time since Thanos had felt anything. The roof was empty, expect for a figure to his left. You were stood huddled under a thin canopy, your arms crossed over your chest. You sipped periodically from a glass, shivering every now and again against the stormy night.

You were the most beautiful thing Thanos had ever seen. You seemed to light up the entire space, despite the wind and rain. Your outfit clung to your figure, accentuating your curves and leaving him breathless. You spotted him staring and offered a small smile. Half walking, half stumbling, Thanos made his way over to you. One good thing about the booze and the drugs, it gave him confidence; and he’d need a bucketful to speak to you.

“Hey girl,” he said, instantly transforming into his overly-macho, too confident persona. “You know who I am?” “No,” you simply said, taking in his tall, lean figure and bright purple hair. “Should I?” “I’m fucking Thanos, baby!” He cried, the wind drowning out his voice, making him seem as small as he felt. “Right… Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells,” you shrugged, downing the last of your drink. “Where would I recognise you from?” “My music,” he told you proudly, spreading arms so you could take him all in. This wasn’t the usual reaction he got. People usually knew he was before he’d even introduced himself, but you, you were just looking blankly back at him. “I’m award winning, senorita!” “Sure,” you smiled, “I’ll uh… I’ll take your word for it.” A clap of thunder stopped your next words, the two of you looking towards to the storm-laden skies. “We should get inside,” you said, “wouldn’t want the famous Thanos to be struck by lightning.”

Following you inside, he couldn’t help but eye your figure as you walked down the stairs. You were nothing like anyone he’d ever seen. Your indifference and unfamiliarity with him were refreshing. You weren’t scrambling to get an autograph or clinging to him in the hopes he’d buy you a drink or take you home for the night. “You here with friends?” He didn’t want the conversation to end, he didn’t want you to leave. He’d probably never see you again if you left now. “Yeah,” you nodded, “it’s my colleagues’ birthday. She really loves this place. You?” Thanos looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd for the people he knew were anything but his friends. “Yeah, baby! It’s Saturday night! It’s party night!” If he wasn’t so off his face, he’d be cringing at the way he was speaking. This wasn’t him; he knew it wasn’t. But he didn’t know how to be any other way. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your evening,” you smiled. He could tell you thought he was a joke; he knew you saw straight through his bullshit. “Wait!” He called after you. “Can I get your number”? You turned and shook your head. “Sorry, Thanos,” you smiled, “I don’t give my number to Marvel villains.” He laughed; not only were you beautiful, you were funny too. “What about your Instagram then?” You thought for a few moments, and finally agreed. Typing your account name into the search bar, you pressed the follow button. “Hey, your accounts private!” Thanos remarked, seeing the request pending written across the screen. “Yeah, it’s to stop all the weirdos from following me. You never know, I might accept. Have a goodnight, Thanos!” And with that, you disappeared into the crowd.

He awoke the next morning, his head pounding and his mouth dry. Some random girl lay next to him in bed, a bottle of vodka tipped on his side and dripping the last of its contents all over his custom-made tile floor. His memory of last night was hazy; he didn’t remember leaving the club or getting home. He didn’t remember going to bed with a stranger, but he remembered you. He remembered the way the strobe lights reflected in your eyes, the way you refused to put up with his shit. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his apps until he found Instagram. Clicking on your profile, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you’d accept his follow request.

A message popped up on his notification banner from you. His hands shaking from nerves and withdrawal, he clicked on it. Hey Thanos, it read, I hope you didn’t get blown away in the storm last night. He laughed, harder than he had done in months. Finally, he was excited about his day. He couldn’t wait to reply, couldn’t wait to see where this new conversation could lead him. He jumped out of bed, heading for the shower with his phone clutched in his hand. For the first time in a long time, Thanos was looking forward to the day ahead.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines

Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst

A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)

“Need anything?” Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. 

“I’m good,” you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead. 

“You wanna come in with me then?” 

You shook your head– the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. “No, I think I’ll stretch my legs out here.”

“Okay,” he said in a tone that indicated you’d be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” you assured him. 

He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, he’s opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face. 

You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadn’t ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritable– just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.

You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stifling– thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadn’t broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truck’s AC didn’t work as well as it used to. 

The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crew’s RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window.  

You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale air– like even they were desperate for some reprieve. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings. 

Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you. 

Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that you’d known about their existence had been more painful than the last. 

Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansas– their feud only grew each time their paths crossed. 

Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gaze– hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. 

“There she is,” he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driver’s seat. 

“Now what're you doin’ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didn’t need two uni drop outs on their team?” he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm. 

He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tyler’s skin. 

Tyler’s biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strength– but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the diner– hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to you– you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly. 

“Anderson,” you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tyler’s truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. “So lovely to see you, as always.”

You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker. 

Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. “You guys go ahead,” he instructed his crew. “I’m gonna spend some time with my friend here.”

They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone. 

“You should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.”

You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” you lied (it was absolutely on purpose). 

Anderson chuckled. “You know– I don’t know if we’ve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. You’re much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.” 

You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his words– but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chest– currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up in– but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel. 

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze. 

“Oh, hey now darlin’, don’t cover up. I’ve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action I’ve gotten all summer.” 

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerk– and he’d definitely make you uncomfortable… but you couldn’t imagine that he’d ever actually do anything to harm you.  

Then again, you’d never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didn’t care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness.  

You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tyler’s gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for that– all you caught was the glare from the sun. 

“You know I’m not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually you’re all covered up,” Anderson whistled. 

As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tyler’s truck– preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your ground– to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful. 

Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. “God, it’s true you don’t know what you’re missin’ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.”

You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yell– to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain weren’t connecting. 

“C’mon, where is she?” he taunted. “You know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer ‘em a little spicy.” 

He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like you’d originally planned. 

“Why don’t you come on back in my van with me,” he winked. “I’m not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.” 

Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldn’t move– your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly. 

“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fight– to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear. 

Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. “And don’t be afraid, baby doll. I don’t bite… too hard. Owens ain’t gotta know–”

“Anderson!” 

Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice… Not just any familiar voice– Tyler’s voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on you– undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage. 

“Here he is!” Anderson taunted. “Her douche bag in shining armor.”

You couldn’t help but notice Anderson didn’t step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tyler’s wake– all coming to your rescue. 

In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Anderson– forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tyler’s T-shirt for good measure. 

“Easy, Rambo,” Anderson sneered. “I was just tellin’ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidin’ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hangin’ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for something–”

But Anderson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Anderson’s nose. 

The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tyler’s shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face. 

Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils. 

“Damn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if she’s worth all this,” Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didn’t back down.  

Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up. 

“Easy, T–” Boone said. 

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Boone’s shoulder. You’d never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.   

Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. “It’s okay,” she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaos– like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. “You alright?”

You nodded, flustered.  

“Next time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,” Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone. 

“Yeah, and he’d deserve it. But he’s not worth catchin’ a charge,” Boone said. “It’s been a slow season and we don’t got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.”

“Take a breath, T,” Dani said. “He’s walkin’ away. Take a breath.”

You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breath– his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him. 

As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned around– his attention landing on you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of you– his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didn’t sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word. 

Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didn’t quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didn’t ask more. 

“I gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,” Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“What’d that asshat say to you?” Lily asked. “You looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyone’s eyes on you. Anderson’s previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourself– like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin. 

“Just the usual shit,” you tried to brush it off.  

You felt grateful when they didn’t push. 

Eventually, the crew disassembled– everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didn’t reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you didn’t take your eyes off from where it was parked– like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation. 

You remained hidden from the team– feeling so awkward and uncomfortable– like you didn’t want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Anderson’s words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldn’t find any shirts in your duffel bag that weren’t disgusting. And currently you didn’t have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat. 

“Everyone else is riding in the RV, it’s just us,” he said, eyes lingering on you. 

“Okay,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that you’d feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines.  

Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. “Baby, what’d he say to you?” 

You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. “I mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there… Just a lot of that.”

You heard his loud exhale. “Just say the word and I’ll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.”

The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. “I just want you to stay here,” you admitted. 

He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirts– like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirt– the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind. 

Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes. 

You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word. 

…

It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once you’d grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out. 

Tyler found you sitting on the curb once he’d passed out everyone else’s room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour. 

“You ready for bed?”

You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile.  

“C’mon,” he motioned his head to the left. “We’re upstairs.”

Tyler led the way to your room– and even though this was a dingy motel, you’d never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name. 

Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, he’d laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was… Still reading between the lines. 

You’d spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasn’t that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerk– of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldn’t have been a surprise– and yet, you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words he’d said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves. 

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tyler’s clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he must’ve grabbed for the two of you. 

“Better?” he asked, handing you one. 

You nodded and cracked it open. “Much.”

Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I-” you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tyler’s hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak. 

“It wasn’t even anything that bad–” you admitted. “I meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it… I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross… and dirty, and…” And, well, you didn’t quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight. 

“Oh, baby,” Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead.  

It wasn’t until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he assured you, only squeezing tighter. 

“I don’t know why this bothered me so much–” 

“Because Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,” he answered for you. “You’re allowed to be upset by that.” 

You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt. 

“I’m the sorry one,” he said. 

“What?” you shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry–”

“I should have been there.”

“You were there,” you reminded him. “Unless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the nose…”

Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chest– instantly soothing you. 

You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth. 

“I just–” you paused again. “I–” 

“Hey,” he said. You looked up at him briefly. “It’s just me.” 

That was the problem– it was Tyler. And you didn’t want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened. 

“I didn’t fight back,” you said quietly. “I just froze up– it was like I couldn’t even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood there– taking it.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “What are you talking about?”

“It just felt like…” your voice tapered off. 

Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, “Like what?” 

“It just felt like I didn’t do anything to stop it,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. “Like I let it happen.”

“Baby,” Tyler sighed. “Baby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldn’t have mattered what you said–”

“But I could have told him to get the fuck away from me–”

“You were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we can’t control how we react when we’re scared. It’s fight or flight–”

“Or freeze,” you mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Or freeze. I’m pretty sure fawning is one too, now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter– what matters is you can’t control that you froze. Just like–”

“Just like you couldn’t control punching him in the face?” you asked. 

You glanced up just in time to see Tyler’s lips tug into a smile. “Exactly,” he said. 

“I just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,” you pouted. “Freezing didn’t do much.”

You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,” he smirked. 

“Thanks for protecting me,” you said quietly. 

“I’ll always protect you, you know that,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. “And thanks for punching him in the nose.”

Tyler snorted. “Anderson’s had that coming for a long time.”

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey I hope you've having an amazing day/evening/night. This is my first time requesting something😅, and I was wondering if you could possibility write something like what you did with my type but the reader having natural auburn curly hair, with freckles thinking that she's not his type or something along those lines.

Gold in Snow

Summary: you and lando are in a relationship but you're reserving hate comments about you being a ginger, with freckles because the fans don't think you're his type

Song: Golden Hour · JVKE

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Another podium finish for Lando, another shower of champagne soaking his expensive suit. You watched from the relative calm of the garage, a small smile playing on your lips.

He looked genuinely happy, and that, more than anything, made the constant noise and pressure of Formula 1 palatable.

You’d been dating Lando Norris for almost a year now. A year of stolen moments, whispered secrets in hotel rooms, and navigating the chaotic whirlwind that was his life. A year of pure bliss…mostly.

The “mostly” came in the form of comment sections. Forums. Twitter threads dedicated to dissecting every pixel of your existence and comparing it to the accepted prototype of a WAG – Wives and Girlfriends – in the F1 world.

You were… different.

They’d say it with a thinly veiled, almost clinical detachment, but the message was always the same: you didn’t fit. You were too… ginger. Too freckled. Too… you.

The ginger part bothered them the most. Lando was a global superstar, practically sculpted from marble, with a smile that could melt glaciers. He was everything they wanted him to be: conventionally attractive, charming, and effortlessly cool.

And you? You were… well, very, very pale. Your hair was a fiery halo, and your skin was dotted with a constellation of freckles that bloomed fiercer in the summer sun.

“He likes the exotic look,” one comment had sniped. “She’s probably got a killer tan when she’s not hiding in the shade.”

You’d chuckled then, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach your heart. Exotic? You’d spent your life battling sunburns and jokes about having no soul.

And killer tan? Honey, you burned so fast, lifeguards would start applying sunscreen just by looking at you.

You tried to ignore it. Lando certainly seemed to. He showered you with affection, praised your quick wit and sharp mind, and constantly reminded you how beautiful he found you, flaws and all.

But the insidious comments burrowed under your skin, planting seeds of doubt that you desperately tried to weed out.

You saw him heading towards the garage now, adrenaline still buzzing through him. His eyes found yours, and that signature Lando grin spread across his face. Your heart did that familiar little flip.

“Hey!” he said, pulling you into a hug. He smelled of champagne and victory. “Did you see that last overtake? Unbelievable!”

You laughed, burying your face in his still-damp fire suit. “Yes, I saw it. You were amazing, as always. Just try not to spray me next time, okay?”

He pulled back, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You seem… quiet.”

You forced a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. “Well, we’re flying back tomorrow morning. We can just chill in the hotel tonight. Order some room service, maybe watch a movie?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, meaning it. Just the two of you, away from the cameras and the judgment.

That night, as you lay in his arms in the dimly lit hotel room, the familiar ache in your chest returned. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow… undeserving.

“Lando?” you whispered, the sound barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled into your hair.

“Do you… do you ever read the comments? About us?”

He stiffened slightly. “I try not to. You know how toxic that can be.”

“But you do read them, right? Sometimes?”

He sighed, a heavy sound that vibrated against your chest. “Okay, yeah, sometimes. But I don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just… noise.”

“Noise that says I’m not good enough for you.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours in the dimness. “What? That’s ridiculous. Who says that?”

“Everyone. Online, anyway. They don’t think I’m your type. They think I’m… too ginger. Too freckled. Too… plain.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. “Hey. Look at me. You are absolutely stunning. Inside and out. You are intelligent, funny, kind, and you have the most beautiful smile in the world. And yes,” he added with a mischievous grin, “I also happen to think your hair is gorgeous, and your freckles are like little constellations scattered across your skin. They’re unique, just like you.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “But they say…”

“They say a lot of things. People are always going to have opinions. But their opinions don’t matter. Only mine does. And I think you are perfect.”

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that chased away the doubts, at least for a moment.

But even as you melted into him, a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of your mind: He’s just saying that. He has to say that.

The knot in your stomach tightened with each passing day, each new photo plastered across social media. You and Lando, laughing at a restaurant, holding hands at the airport, just being normal.

What shouldn't have been a cause for concern, was. It should have been a happy bubble of romance, but it was quickly becoming a breeding ground for anxiety, a place where your insecurities festered and grew.

Because under each picture, nestled amongst the supportive comments and heart emojis, they lurked. The whispers, the not-so-subtle digs.

"He could do so much better." "She's not even his type." "Another generic influencer." And the worst of it? "Ginger + Freckles = No."

You knew it was irrational. Lando loved you. He told you every day, showed you in a million little ways, from the way he held your hand to the way he looked at you with genuine adoration.

But the internet had a way of burrowing into your brain, planting seeds of doubt that blossomed into thorny vines. You found yourself scrutinizing your reflection, picking apart every freckle, every strand of your fiery hair.

Was it too much? Was it enough? Were you enough?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Lando's voice startled you, pulling you back from the precipice of your spiral. He was standing in the doorway of your shared flat, his racing helmet tucked under his arm, a familiar mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"Just thinking about this weekend," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Excited for the snow."

"Me too! Max and Steve are already counting down the hours. You're coming to the slopes tomorrow, right?"

You hesitated. "I… I have something I need to do in the morning. I'll meet you guys up there later, okay?"

Lando frowned, his blue eyes searching yours. "Everything alright, love? You seem a bit off."

"I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just… a doctor's appointment. Nothing serious. I'll explain later. Promise."

He didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to push. "Alright. Just text me when you're on your way. Drive safe.”

He kissed your forehead, the warmth of his touch a brief comfort against the chill that had settled within you and left.

The next morning, the drive to the snow mountains felt endless. Each mile was another step closer to the potential storm brewing in your head.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous, that you were letting faceless strangers dictate your feelings. But the seed of doubt had been planted, watered, and was now taking root.

When you finally arrived at the ski resort, the crisp mountain air did little to soothe your nerves. You walked into the reception area, the scent of pine and hot chocolate thick in the air.

"Name?" the receptionist asked, her eyes glued to the computer screen.

"It's… uh… Y/L/N, party of Lando Norris."

The receptionist's fingers clicked across the keyboard, and she looked up, a polite professional smile gracing her lips. "Ah, yes. Mr. Norris's party. You're all set. Here's your lift pass. Your equipment rental is just through those doors. Have a wonderful day."

You collected your ski boots and poles from the rental shop, the familiar weight grounding you slightly. You'd been skiing since you were a kid, practically born on the slopes.

It was one of the few places you felt truly free, truly yourself.

You strapped on your skis and headed towards the main lift, scanning the crowd for a flash of Lando's familiar McLaren Racing beanie or the boisterous laughter of Max and Steve.

The lift carried you higher and higher, the view expanding to reveal a breathtaking panorama of snow-covered peaks and pristine valleys.

For a moment, the internet, the comments, the doubts, all faded away. You breathed in the crisp air, feeling the thrill of anticipation course through you.

As you reached the top, you spotted them. Lando, grinning and waving, Max, already carving down the slope with reckless abandon, and Steve, carefully navigating the beginner trail.

You took a deep breath, pushed off, and let gravity do its work. The wind whipped through your hair, the sun glinted off the snow, and for the first time that day, you felt a genuine smile spread across your face.

You were good. Really good. You weaved and turned, carving graceful arcs in the powder, your ginger hair a vibrant streak against the white landscape. You glided past other skiers, feeling the rush of adrenaline as you navigated the slopes with practiced ease.

You found yourself on a black diamond run, moguls stretching out before you like frozen waves. This was where you belonged, where you felt alive. You took a deep breath and launched yourself into the challenge, navigating the bumps and dips with precision and skill.

Suddenly, you heard a whoop of excitement and a familiar voice. "Wow, check out the ginger ninja!"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple of guys, clearly impressed by your skiing skills.

You grinned, threw them a wink, and continued your descent, the compliment a small spark of warmth against the doubt that still lingered.

The crisp mountain air bit at Lando’s cheeks, painting them a matching shade to the gaudy orange ski suit Max insisted he wear. He shifted his weight from one ski boot to the other, impatience radiating off him in visible waves.

He’d been waiting at the base of the slope for what felt like an eternity. Max was already halfway up the mountain for his third run. Steve was content to nurse a lukewarm hot chocolate and offer unsolicited advice on Lando’s form, despite the fact Lando hadn't even put his skis on yet.

"She's taking her time," Steve commented, taking another careful sip. "Probably intimidated by the black runs."

Lando rolled his eyes, though fondness softened the gesture. He knew you weren't intimidated by anything. This was more than likely your first time on the slopes, so you were probably taking it easy.

You were a natural athlete, thriving on competition, but you’d also confessed, with a sheepish grin, that skiing looked deceptively easy on TV.

He was about to tell Steve as much when Steve suddenly straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, there's your girl!"

Lando spun around, instantly forgetting the cold, the wait, and Steve’s irritating commentary. He searched the throng of skiers snaking down the slope, his heart doing a little skip. And then he saw you.

You moved with a surprising grace, your skis carving effortless arcs in the snow. Sunlight caught in your fiery red hair, turning it into a cascade of glittering copper. Each freckle seemed to dance on your skin, illuminated by the mountain sun.

He knew, objectively, that you were beautiful. He saw it every day. But seeing you now, flushed with exertion and radiant with joy, took his breath away.

He froze, utterly captivated, as you approached. You navigated the final stretch with smooth confidence. “Show off,” he muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You slowed to a stop, kicking up a spray of snow just inches from his boots.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, laughing. You pushed your goggles up onto your forehead, revealing eyes the color of warm honey. "Sorry! How long have you been waiting?"

Your cheeks were rosy, your breath misting in the cold air. Lando stared, speechless.

"Baby? What's wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing with concern. You reached out, your ungloved hand gently touching his cheek. The cold stung, but he barely noticed.

He swallowed, his voice a low rasp. "You're beautiful."

The words were a whisper, almost lost in the wind. He hadn’t meant to say it so abruptly, so…exposed. But the sight of you, framed by the snow-covered peaks, had rendered him incapable of coherent thought.

Your eyes widened slightly, and a blush bloomed on your cheeks, a delicate counterpoint to the healthy glow of the mountain air. "Lando," you said softly, "you okay? Are you coming down with something?"

He blinked, shaking himself slightly. "No, I'm fine. More than fine, actually. You just…you look incredible."

Steve coughed pointedly beside him. Max, having apparently teleported from the top of the mountain, snickered. Lando shot them both a warning glare. They knew how self-conscious you were, especially around his racing colleagues.

The comments section of his social media had been a cesspool ever since you two became public. Hateful words about your appearance, thinly veiled as concerned opinions that you weren’t “his type,” were a constant, ugly background noise.

He knew it bothered you, even though you tried to brush it off with a laugh and a casual, "Haters gonna hate." But he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.

He hated those comments, hated the people who wrote them, and hated that they had the power to make you feel anything less than extraordinary.

He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Ignore them," he said, his voice firm, his gaze locked on yours.

You looked confused. "Ignore who? Max and Steve?"

"Everyone," he said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "Anyone who makes you feel like you're anything less than perfect. Because you are. Perfect. Just the way you are."

The blush on your cheeks deepened, and you ducked your head slightly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "You're sweet," you mumbled. "But I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea."

"Good," Lando said fiercely. "You're mine. And that's all that matters." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring Max's exaggerated gagging noises.

He pulled back and met your gaze, his expression serious. "Listen to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful, or that you're not good enough, or that you don't belong. Because they're wrong. They’re absolutely, unequivocally wrong. You’re amazing, inside and out. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re fiercely intelligent, and yes, you’re unbelievably beautiful. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you."

A tear, born of emotion and the biting wind, escaped your eye. "You're going to make me cry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Good," Lando said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "Let them see you cry. Let them see how real and how beautiful you are. Don't hide anything. Don't let anyone dim your light."

He knew his words were bold, maybe even a little cheesy, but he meant every single one of them. He wanted you to know, deep down, that he saw you, truly saw you, and that nothing anyone said would ever change that.

Max, surprisingly, had stopped snickering. He clapped Lando on the shoulder. "Alright, mate, enough with the declarations of love. Let's hit the slopes. Before I get frostbite."

Steve nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Lando. You can gush later. Right now, let’s see if your girl’s got what it takes.” He winked at you. “No pressure.”

You smiled, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Pressure is my middle name," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's go."

Lando grinned, relieved to see the familiar spark back in your eyes. He squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

He watched as you adjusted your goggles and clicked your poles into the snow. He felt a surge of pride watching you. He knew the comments would still be there, lurking in the shadows of the internet, waiting to pounce.

But he also knew that you were strong. You were resilient. And you had him.

He grabbed his own skis, a newfound confidence coursing through him. He would protect you, always. But more than that, he would celebrate you, every freckle, every fiery strand of hair, every brilliant facet of your being.

As you pushed off, gracefully navigating the gentle slope, Lando felt a lightness in his heart that had nothing to do with the altitude. He knew, without a doubt, that their love story was just beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.

He followed you down the slope, his orange ski suit a beacon against the white snow. He caught up to you easily, skiing alongside you, matching your pace.

"So," he said, grinning mischievously. "Think you can keep up with me, ginger?"

You laughed, a bright, joyful sound that echoed through the mountains. "Try me, Papaya boy."

And with that, you kicked it up a notch, leaving Lando in your snowy wake.

He laughed, his heart soaring.

He pushed off, determined to catch up, knowing that even if he never did, he would be perfectly content just to chase you, forever. . . .

The papaya coloured dress hung on you, a vibrant splash of sunshine in the sterile white bathroom. It was Lando’s favourite colour, or so he claimed. He said it reminded him of McLaren, of speed, of… you.

But all you could see in the mirror was a canvas of imperfections.

Your reflection stared back, a stranger dissected and judged. The fiery red hair, usually a source of pride, now felt like a neon sign screaming "OUT OF PLACE."

The constellation of freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks, tiny sun-kissed stars Lando often traced with his fingertip, seemed like blemishes, flaws magnified under the harsh bathroom light.

The original plan, a simple elegance of no-makeup and loose waves, lay discarded. You'd envisioned a carefree evening, a confident entrance with Lando by your side.

Now, the thought of facing the public, the prying eyes, the inevitable whispers, felt like climbing a mountain of anxiety.

Social media had been a minefield lately. Ever since your relationship with Lando Norris became public, the comment sections had become a breeding ground for toxicity. Most were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating your love.

But a persistent undercurrent of negativity gnawed at your confidence. The "fans," or rather, the internet trolls masquerading as them, were relentless.

“She’s not his type.”

“He could do so much better.”

“Ginger? Really? He's lowering his standards.”

The worst were the comments picking apart your appearance. The freckles, the hair, the perceived lack of "glamour." They painted you as an anomaly, someone who didn't belong in Lando's world. It was absurd, of course.

Lando loved you for you. He told you every day. But the insidious nature of online hate was that it seeped in, whispering doubts in your ear when you were most vulnerable.

Tonight, facing a McLaren party filled with glamorous personalities and industry insiders, the doubts had reached a crescendo. You grabbed a tissue from the dispenser, dabbing at the corners of your eyes, fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry.

The reflection in the mirror blurred, the colours swam, and the vibrant papaya felt like a mocking reminder of everything you weren't.

That’s when you heard the familiar click of the front door.

“Y/n?” Lando’s voice echoed through the house, a warm, comforting sound that momentarily cut through the anxiety clouding your mind.

Panic seized you. You couldn't let him see you like this, a mess of insecurities and mascara-smeared cheeks. You needed to compose yourself, to build up a façade of confidence before facing him.

Quickly, you turned the small lock on the bathroom door. The click was loud in the sudden silence.

“Y/n?” he called again, his voice closer now. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just… just getting ready,” you managed, trying to inject a lightness into your tone that felt utterly fake. Your voice wavered, betraying your true state. “I’ll be out in a second.”

You heard him pause outside the door. “You sure? You sound… different.”

He knew you too well. He always did. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Just a bit of a headache. Nothing serious.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken concern. You could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softening. “But don’t rush. I’m happy to wait. Do you want me to get you some water?”

His thoughtfulness, his unwavering care, only made the guilt swell inside you. He was so genuine, so supportive, and here you were, hiding from him, consumed by the petty insecurities fueled by strangers on the internet.

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, a little too quickly. “Just… give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. You heard him move away from the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning against the cool porcelain of the sink. This couldn’t go on. You couldn't let these hateful comments dictate your life, dictate your relationship.

Lando deserved better. You deserved better.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the cold tap, splashing water on your face. You grabbed a towel and gently patted your skin dry, removing the remnants of your almost-attempted makeup.

You looked at yourself again, really looked.

The fiery hair, the freckles, the flaws… they were all part of you. They were what made you unique, what made you you. And Lando loved you for it. He saw beauty where others saw imperfections.

He saw strength where others saw vulnerability. Why were you letting the opinions of anonymous strangers outweigh the love and adoration of the man you adored?

You let out a shaky sigh, a weight lifting from your shoulders. It wasn't a complete cure, the insecurities wouldn't vanish overnight, but it was a start.

With newfound resolve, you took another look at the papaya dress. It shimmered under the light, a vibrant symbol of sunshine and joy. You smoothed the fabric down, a small smile gracing your lips.

You unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out.

Lando was standing in the living room, fiddling with his phone. He looked up as you entered, his face immediately lighting up. He was wearing a simple dark suit, impeccably tailored, but it was the genuine warmth in his eyes that truly caught your attention.

He took a step towards you, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. The smile widened.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice laced with admiration. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blushed, the compliment genuine and heartfelt. “Thank you.”

He closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, tracing the familiar pattern of your freckles.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. “You seemed a bit… off earlier.”

You hesitated, the urge to brush it off still lingering. But you knew you couldn't hide from him. He deserved the truth.

“I… I saw some comments online,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “About… about me. About not being ‘your type.’”

His expression darkened, his eyes hardening with anger. “Don’t you dare listen to those people, Y/n,” he said fiercely, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

“They don’t know anything. My ‘type’ is someone who is kind, intelligent, funny, and beautiful, inside and out. Someone who makes me laugh every single day. Someone who challenges me and supports me, even when I’m being an idiot. That’s you, Y/n. That's always been you."

He paused, his gaze searching yours, making sure you understood the sincerity of his words.

"And as for the… the physical stuff," he continued, his voice softening again. "Your hair is the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen. Your freckles are like little constellations, guiding me through the darkness. And that little dimple you get when you smile? Drives me absolutely crazy."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough, Y/n. Because to me, you are perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude, of love.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you, Lando,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his jacket.

He held you tight, his arms a comforting embrace. “I love you too, Y/n. More than you know.”

After a long moment, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you.

Lando was right. You couldn't let the negativity of others define you. You had his love, his support, and that was all that mattered.

You looked at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go to this party?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Absolutely. And just so you know, I'm planning on spending the entire night showing you off to everyone. They need to see how lucky I am."

He took your hand in his, his fingers interlacing with yours. As you walked out the door together, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.

The haters could say what they wanted. You had Lando, you had your love, and that was more than enough. The papaya dress suddenly felt like armour, not a target.

You were ready to face the world, hand in hand, imperfections and all. . . .

The party was exactly what you expected: loud music, flashing lights, and a sea of familiar faces from the F1 world – drivers, team principals, engineers, and their partners.

The sheer volume of people made your anxiety prickle, but Lando kept a firm grip on your hand, navigating you through the crowd.

He introduced you to what felt like a hundred people, his arm possessively around your waist, his smile beaming. You tried to focus on the conversations, to be witty and engaging, but the whispers seemed to follow you, phantom echoes of the comments haunting your mind.

“Lando’s with her?”

“She’s… different.”

“Not exactly what I expected.”

You squeezed Lando’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself. He seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, his attention solely focused on you.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the music.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s… great.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching. He knew you better than anyone, and he could see the forced cheerfulness masking your discomfort.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “If you want to leave, we can. We don’t have to stay here.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here. With you.”

He smiled, relieved. "Okay, but seriously, if you change your mind, just say the word."

Just then, a tall, lanky figure approached, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Lando! Mate, good to see you.”

“Oscar!” Lando clapped him on the back. “Good to see you too. Oscar, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar offered you his hand, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to gauge his expression. Was there judgment there? Pity? You couldn’t tell. “Likewise, Oscar. Congratulations on your season so far.”

“Thanks,” he said, his smile genuine. "It's been... interesting, to say the least." He paused, then gestured to a woman standing beside him. "And this is my girlfriend, Lily."

Lily stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. She had kind eyes and a simple elegance that immediately put you at ease. "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N. Lando talks about you all the time."

You blushed, glancing at Lando, who just winked. "All good things, I hope?"

Lily laughed. "Of course! He's completely smitten."

The four of you fell into easy conversation, discussing the season, the pressures of being in the spotlight, and the challenges of maintaining relationships in such a demanding environment.

You found yourself relaxing, the tension slowly draining away. Lily was refreshingly down-to-earth, and Oscar, despite his reserved demeanour, had a dry wit that you found endearing.

As the conversation flowed, you noticed Lily subtly steer the topic towards your interests, asking about your work, your hobbies, and your passions.

She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, not just as Lando’s girlfriend, but as an individual.

“So, Y/N” Lily said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “Lando tells me you’re a writer? That’s fascinating! What kind of writing do you do?”

“I dabble in a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling your confidence grow. “Short stories, poetry, some freelance journalism. It depends on what sparks my interest, really.”

“That’s amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve always admired people who can write. It’s such a powerful way to express yourself.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “It is. I’m useless at it. Give me a steering wheel any day.”

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, your earlier anxieties fading into the background. You were having a genuine, enjoyable conversation, with people who seemed to genuinely care about you.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. “Lando, darling! There you are!”

A woman, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes, glided towards you, her eyes scanning you from head to toe with blatant disapproval. You recognized her as the wife of a prominent team principal, a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper judgment.

Lando’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face her. “Genevieve, good to see you.”

She completely ignored Oscar and Lily, her gaze fixed on you. “And who is this, Lando? A new… acquaintance?”

You felt your cheeks flush, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. You knew what was coming.

Lando’s arm tightened around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “This is your girlfriend? How… interesting.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Well, congratulations, darling. I’m sure you’re very happy.”

She turned back to Lando, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lando, darling, you really could do so much better. Don't you want to think about your image?”

You felt your heart sink. This was it. The moment of truth. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of negativity.

But then, something unexpected happened. Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, and his grip on your waist tightened protectively.

“I’m perfectly happy, thank you,” he said, his voice cold and firm. “And Y/N is more than enough. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

He turned his back on the woman, effectively dismissing her. He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still reeling from the encounter. “Yeah,” you mumbled. "I'm okay

Lily stepped forward, her expression fierce. “Honestly, some people are just ridiculous,” she said, her voice laced with scorn. “Don’t let her get to you, Y/N. She’s just jealous.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s got nothing better to do than spread negativity. Ignore her.”

Lando squeezed your hand. “They’re right. Don’t let her ruin your night.”

You looked at them, at Lando, at Lily, at Oscar. You saw genuine support, genuine kindness, genuine acceptance. And suddenly, the weight on your chest lifted. The comments, the whispers, the judgment – they didn’t matter.

You had people who loved you, who supported you, who valued you for who you were, not for who the internet thought you should be.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not going to let her ruin my night.”

Lando grinned, relieved. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we get out of here and go somewhere more… private?” He winked suggestively.

Lily laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Oscar, you’re driving, right? I’ve had one too many cocktails.”

As you walked away, hand in hand with Lando, you glanced back at Lily and Oscar, a warm feeling of gratitude washing over you. You had found unexpected allies, people who saw past the surface and appreciated you for who you were.

You were still an outsider, still a ginger with freckles, still not “his type” according to the internet. But tonight, surrounded by love and support, you didn’t care. You had Lando, you had friends, and you had the courage to be yourself.

And that, you realised, was more than enough. The papaya dress no longer felt like armour, but a symbol of your strength, your resilience, and your unwavering commitment to being true to yourself.

You were you and you were happy. . . .

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername and 867,879 others

landonorris

Happy anniversary to my beautiful girl. Two years. Two years of laughter, adventures, and learning to love you more fiercely every single day. I know the internet can be a dark place, especially for someone as radiant as you. Don't listen to anyone who talks about you bad, especially those whispering nonsense about "types." They see a snapshot; I see the whole damn masterpiece.

Your fiery hair is sunshine on a cloudy day, each freckle a tiny star mapping out the constellation of my heart. They don't see the intelligence that sparkles in your eyes, the quick wit that keeps me on my toes, or the unwavering kindness you show to everyone you meet. They don’t see you. You are everything I could ever want, and more than I ever deserve. So, happy anniversary, my love. Let's keep painting our world with joy, ignoring the noise, and celebrating the beautiful, unique you. I love you more than words can say. ❤️

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[lologoinsolo]

Added after this one, Part 3, Part 4

Cats and Their Men Masterlist

You stammer at the man as he holds what looks to be a calico. His face looks worse for wear despite how handsome he is. Cut lip and cheek that look as though maybe the cause is from the one wiggling in his hands. “Sir, the uh,” you look down at your phone for the time. “The stores about to close.” You look from him to the kitten and then back to him.

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m sorry. Really, I am but I’ve no idea what I’m doing.” He rubs at the baby’s head and she nips right at his finger. He groans, “why are you so mean? You were all cuddly in my lap and now you’re being hissy.”

You laugh a little at his lament and rub your own face. “Alright,” you can’t very well leave him like this. You’re sure the kitten would be more than happy to chew on something better than the man’s finger. “Come on,” you motion for him to follow. You don’t bother to page for someone to cover the front. The store’s about to close in 2 minutes anyways. “I’ll get you started, sir.”

“Kyle,” he grins when you quirk a brow, “just Kyle, none of that ‘sir’ business or else I’ll feel far older than I actually am.” He rests his kitten against his chest when she starts wiggling even more. “Curious little bugger, found her shivering at my front door.” There’s a glint in his eye as he retells his findings, “she didn’t even notice me grabbing her till I picked her up and look what she did to my face.” He says with dramatic flare when he holds her up to his eye view. The kitten merely blinks at him and her paws prod his nose.

You pull a cart since you have a feeling he’ll need a lot of things. He doesn’t give off ‘I already have a cat’ energy. “Serves you right for spooking her.” You joke about his woes when he gives you a playful glare.

“You’re only siding with her because she didn’t mark up your pretty face.”

You cough at that and push the cart more quickly down the aisle. You can handle getting yelled and cussed at but god forbid a handsome man says you’re pretty. “So,” you manage to say when he gives you a dazzling smile. He caught up quickly to your step and looks neither winded or strained. Why are all the tall men getting kittens? You inwardly roll your eyes, “you said a friend told you to find me?”

His brow raises slightly and he maneuvers his kitten to be more in his arms. “Yeah,” he simply says, “says you know a thing or two about cats.”

“Did he..” you look a bit hopeful, “did he say if he’d come back to the store.” Picking up some cat toys and placing some cute orange cat shaped bowls in the cart. “He uh, he left in a hurry last I saw.” You give a quick reasoning so as not to feel as desperate as you sound. You still feel the phantom touch of his hand. You never got his name…

“Can’t really tell,” he shrugs and he plucks some crinkle toys and tosses them in the cart. He doesn’t seem to care about pricing either. “Man’s unreadable unless you tell him a stupid joke.” There’s a short chuckle and flash of a memory that goes through his eyes.

You deflate a little, it wouldn’t make sense to feel like this. You don’t know mafia guy anyways. “Ah, well. If you see him, tell him he needs to take his cat to the vet.” Kyle nods and he perks up when he sees the cat clothing.

“When you get older, rug, I’m gonna buy you one of these.” He points to a cut pirate costume as if the kitten understands him. “You’ll hate me for it but at least I can get a picture out of it, yeah?”

You smile at his enthusiasm, from what you seem cats have never been a fan of clothing… but then again the clothing here doesn’t look— “wait,” you jerk your head to him, “rug? As in,” you gesture to the kitten that’s starting to meow when he pulls her back down from his shoulders. She must’ve climbed up there when he was looking through the clothes. “The cat?” You blink once then twice when he shrugs once more.

“Not really a naming guy, plus,” he rubs along her ears, “she was shivering on my rug. Figured I’d just say that and be done with it.”

Better than garbage, you think. “Well…” biting on your lip, “that’s unique.” Trying to save face, you don’t want to be too judgmental.

He gives you a look and then snickers, “I’m just kidding, love.” He comes close and you freeze slightly till he plops his kitten down in your hands. “About the rug name at least. I really am shit with names. Johnny’s better at naming animals.” Placing his hand on his hip and you wonder if that’s mafia guy but then you think maybe not. “If you got an idea then I’m all ears.” He turns on his side and he rubs his chin in thought. He mutters something and then walks off to the litter aisle.

You hold her in your hands. “A name, huh?” Bailey was the only name you could think of but that one’s been taken already… “hm,” you rub her nose to the top of her head. She seems to enjoy that as she curls into your fingers. “Pretty girl, what should your name be?” Humming softly in thought and leaning against the cart when Kyle comes back with a tub of litter and a nice looking litter box. You hadn’t expected to see the nice flex of muscle from his arms but you’re certainly not gonna complain about the view. “I got a secret to share, Kyle.” You say as he comes within earshot

“Oh, yeah?” He smiles and places the litter box in the cart first and then the tub. “What’s that? Promise I won’t tell a soul.” He makes an X over his chest.

“I’m shit with names too.”

His shoulders jump and he lets out a laugh. “Really?” Rolling his eyes, “guess we’re both in a pickle. Might have to stick with rug for now.” He rubs a thumb over his kitten's little head. She nips a little at his finger but he doesn’t seem to mind. He pats the top of her head like one would a dog.

“I think she hates that idea.”

“Very opinionated this one,” he takes over the pushing of the cart and you lead him down to the cat food aisle. You check her teeth and you are pleasantly happy that she won’t need formula. “Now,” he turns side to side to check the kinds of food the store sells. “What does my girl need?”

You give him a thorough answer after having learned your lesson with your mystery man. Explaining what he should and shouldn’t do and placing a weeks worth of 3 different foods. You then also speak about how he’ll need to see a vet. You checked her for fleas and you are incredibly happy to tell him that she only had one but that it’s still good for him to get some flea drops. After you give him the runaround once more around the store, checking for items you know she won’t need but she absolutely needs a carrot cat scratcher. You finally take him to your register so he can pay. Your manager looks none too happy about a remaining customer but your manager has nothing to remark when Kyle looks right at him.

“Okay,” you finally say after bagging all his items and placing them in the cart. “Here’s your receipt,” you pass it to him and you give a little pet to his kitten. “Sweet girl when she wants to be.” He chuckles around you and pockets his receipt.

“Only when she wants to, that’s for sure.” He lets out a low whistle, “cost me a high bill but only the best for her.” He tucks her a little closer and gives you a kind look. “Thanks for staying late for me,” he looks like he wants to say more but hesitates. “I’ll see you around?”

You blink and then nod quickly, “I’m always here, Kyle. Gotta make money,” you laugh shortly and his lips pull back so that you can see just a peep of his pearly whites. He takes his leave, chugging along his cart to place it in his car. He mouths something to his kitten when she tries to get out of his hands. Probably a scolding with how he tuts a finger side to side in front of her face. She’s hearing none of it though from how her tail flicks back and forth. You wave him goodbye and he waves back right at you before he steps in to drive away. You hope he’ll come back to tell you her name once he’s figured it out. You wonder if mafia guy will come back too…

[f1angelz]

𝒇𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 — lando norris x f!reader

summary: lando has been fed up with Y/N’s bratty attitude, unfortunately for her, he finally bursts out.

content warning: (non proofread) smut, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, heavy degradation, spanking, swearing (literally starts under the cut), unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, and a hint of fluff at the end!

guys pls don’t bully me this is the first time i’ve written a full smut fic 😔 if you aren’t into hardcore shit this is your final warning to leave!

── .✦

“You fucking bitch.” As soon as the door was slammed shut, Lando grips her by the neck from behind, turning her around to face him.

“I’ve had enough of your fucking attitude, and your act earlier was the last straw.” His jaw clenched out of frustration and looked her dead in the eyes.

A few hours ago, they went on a date and it was scorching hot. Y/N wasn’t a big fan of the heat— it made her super annoyed, and annoyed she was for the whole entirety of their date.

Lando tried to be patient, trying his best to attend to her needs even if some were out of reach.

And here she was, giving Lando puppy eyes in hopes of him having mercy.

Lando dragged her to the bedroom, “O-ow! Lando, that hurts!” Y/N winced, her body being forced to follow his harsh actions.

“Now you decide to fucking speak after giving me silent treatment on the way home?” He slams her on the bed and she whines, still giving him puppy eyes.

“Those eyes aren’t gonna work on me, fucking bitch.” He aggressively pushes his lips into hers, teeth clashing and tongues fighting. Y/N tries to pull away, but Lando is quick enough to grip her cheeks to restrain her from doing so.

When Lando finally pulls away, she takes this as an opportunity to catch her breath.

“W-wait!” Y/N pleads as he practically rips off her shorts and top, leaving her in her underwear. He, too takes off his shirt and pants also leaving him in his underwear.

“Shut up.” Lando says under his breath, pushing her legs open. “Keep these legs fucking open, ‘kay?” He slaps her inner thigh, making her jolt at the sudden contact.

“Sit up.” He commands and Y/N obeys, resting her back against the headboard while keeping her legs open.

Lando lays on his stomach and positions himself in front of her pussy.

Gently, he placed kisses on her inner thigh while his free hand teased the other.

Y/N’s breaths were stuttering, feeling ticklish at his touch. She wanted more— she needed more.

“Lando please..” She croaked out in a soft, trembling voice, afraid of what his response may be. “Please what? Hmm?” He taunts, looking up at her.

He pulls away from her thigh and focuses on inching closer to her pussy, a wet patch evidently marking on her underwear. Lando smirks, “Already so fucking wet? What a slut.” He mocks and slaps her pussy, earning a moan from the female. He watched the wet patch grew larger and Lando laughed even more.

He teases a finger on her clit, still keeping her underwear on. He licks on the wet patch and Y/N’s mouth hangs open. “P-please..” She begs in a small voice.

Lando pulls her underwear to the side to reveal her wet, desperate pussy. He brings his finger to her clit, rubbing it in painfully slow circles. Y/N looks at him, biting her lip out of frustration.

“Look at this pussy.. So fucking wet, so desperate for me. Yeah? Isn’t that right?” Lando looks at her, applying pressure on her clit. She nods, accepting the fact that she was desperate for his touch.

Unsatisfied with her answer, he slaps her pussy once more. “Speak when you’re spoken to.” Y/N lets out a moan, almost a scream from how sensitive she is. “F-fuck, yes! Fuck p-please, I need your fingers.”

Lando, feeling a tinge of sympathy, removes her underwear to fully reveal her pussy. He teases her entrance with his finger, coating it with her wetness.

Y/N pushes herself down onto his fingers, in attempt to feel stretched out by at least just one finger.

“Needy little bitch. That’s what you want? Fine, fuck yourself on my fingers.” Lando sits up and gets on his knees, finger still inside her.

Y/N, left with no choice yet with such desperation, obeys and starts fucking herself on his digits.

She moans out, and even louder when he adds another and curls it inside her. Lando rubs her clit with his thumb, making her go crazy. “Sh-shit, that feels so good.” She manages to say between her shaky moans.

She picks up the pace, slowly feeling a knot form in her abdomen.

“I’m gonna c-cum, please let me cum.” Y/N begs, looking at Lando.

“You aren’t cumming yet.” He pulls out his fingers and pushes her down on the bed, then aggressively pulls her legs closer to his face to eat her out.

He sinks down onto her, licking a long stripe then stopping at her clit to suck it.

Y/N cries out, finally taking in what she’s been craving for. Lando sucks harder upon hearing her moans, then shoving two fingers in her.

Her jaw hangs open, unable to produce another sound from all the pleasure her body is receiving. Eventually, she feels a familiar sensation in her abdomen— causing her thighs to tighten around Lando’s head.

Lando pushes her legs down and looks up at her, pulling away from her pussy.

Y/N whines, the feeling of pleasure being ripped away from her once more.

Lando gets on his knees and takes her by the waist, aggressively turning her around to put her in all fours.

“P-please..” Was all she could say, “Ass up.” He places a hard slap on her ass and she jolts.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Two slaps were given, and tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes— overwhelmed and overstimulated from everything that was happening.

Pissed off, Lando grabbed her hair and shoved her head in the pillows with no remorse. Y/N hiccuped, tears streaming down her face.

Lando gets rid of his underwear, freeing his dick from the restraints. He gives her ass a firm squeeze before shoving his dick in her with no warning, forcefully fitting his thick cock.

Y/N practically screams at the sudden action, the first thrust hitting her cervix causing her tears to shed even more.

“Where’s the bratty little bitch from earlier? Hmm?” Lando asks in a demeaning tone, his rhythm going faster. “I-I’m so— s-sorry, baby p-please!” She sobs out, regretting all she has done— but it was definitely too late.

He slaps her ass again, but this time much harder. Y/N was helpless, gripping on the pillows like her life depended on it. With every thrust, her body was starting to become limp.

Her mind wasn’t processing anything. Only sobs, moans, and whines were coming out of her mouth— her poor pussy severely overstimulated.

Lando pulls her hair, causing her head to jerk upwards. “Fucked out that little brain of yours?”

She doesn’t answer, only sobbing and moaning from the pleasure. “S-sorry, baby I’m s— s-sorry! I wanna cum pl-lease!” She managed to say in between sobs, catching her breath.

He lets go of her hair, limp body falling down on the bed like a rag doll. Lando lets out a laugh, picking up the pace even more.

Y/N’s voice was growing hoarse from all cries and screams she was letting out, and she knew Lando wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon.

The knot in her abdomen forms again for the third time, and she secretly hoped that it would finally release for that night.

“C-cum.. I’m gon— gonna c-cum!” She cries even harder, the pillows visibly wet from her tears and sweat.

“Hmm? The little bitch is gonna cum?” Lando mocks, his thrust going at an ungodly pace. His grip on her hips tighten, pushing it down for him to go even deeper.

“Go cum.” With Lando’s command, Y/N’s most awaited release comes instantly, pleasure immediately washing over her.

He pulls out, her juices gushing out of her entrance. Y/N’s legs shake, her body completely surrendering to collapse. Eyes were half lidded, breaths still shaky and tears were still flowing ever so slightly.

Lando takes a look at her state and a wave of regret instantly surges over his mind.

He sinks beside her on the bed, taking her in his arms. He rests her head on his chest, stroking her hair.

“You s-still love me, right..?” She croaks out, sniffling as she looked up to meet his eyes.

Lando, with a concerned look on his face, wipes her remaining tears away. “My love, I will always love you. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive, especially with my words. I’m sorry baby.” He looks at her endearingly, moving her hair away from her face.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, scanning her body for any bruises. “My ass hurts..” She whines, turning her body slightly to show the red marks he previously made.

“My poor baby.” He pouts and grazes his hand over the marks, making Y/N wince.

“Do you want me to draw you a bath, or would you like to stay like this for a little more?” Lando places a hand on her cheek, stroking it lightly.

“We can stay like this for a while.” She takes his hand on her cheek, intertwining it with her hand.

After a few minutes, Y/N dozed off— embraced in her lover’s arms.

── .✦

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!

[vampzity]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ꒰ 14 DAYS OF KINKS ꒱ ˚₊‧✩ ੈ‧

[ DISCLAIMER: ] MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! All content under this event/masterlist is STRICTLY NSFW! Minors will be blocked!!! All stories are written with a fem character!

This is simply a timeline of events! Days can be subject to change :) You will find OT8 ateez & some stray kids members! I’m still working on writing skz so that is why all the members aren’t here yet I’m vv sorry :’D

⭐️: author’s favorite

🍓: fan favorite

[ DAY 1 ━━ VIBRATORS WITH WOOYOUNG ] <1.1k>

Watching a movie with your boyfriend sounds a normal task right? Not when your new toy comes into play. Every time you lose focus of the movie, he’ll stop, but when you pay attention the speed only intensifies.

[ DAY 2 ━━ VOYUERISM WITH HAN ] <2.1k> ⭐️🍓

han comes home and hears sounds coming from your room, only to sneak a peek of you touching yourself. so, he watches from the door, trying not to get caught as he gets himself off.

[ DAY 3 ━━ DACRYPHILIA WITH BANGCHAN ] <1.7k> ⭐️🍓

after teasing him through the entire dinner, chan decides to show you what whining really gets you. now you have no choice but to whine at his mercy.

[ DAY 4 ━━ BLINDFOLDS WITH YEOSANG ] <1.6k> ⭐️

you and yeosang decide to spice your sex life up with the tease of a blindfold. you’re touching him, kissing him all over until he’s practically begging for you to let him burst.

[ DAY 5 ━━ FACE RIDING WITH FELIX ] <1.4k> 🍓

felix is so desperate to feel and taste you, to the point where he’s begging you to suffocate him once he when he sees you in that dress. all he wants is to make you feel pretty once before you go.

[ DAY 6 ━━ PILLOW HUMPING WITH YUNHO ] <1.6k> ⭐️🍓

getting your boyfriend’s attention is hard when he’s so busy with his game. you can’t bare to wait any longer, so you resort to humping a pillow in hopes of getting his attention. only now, he’s watching you while you sit there in embarrassment.

[ DAY 7 ━━ SPANKING WITH JONGHO ] <1.8k>

jongho comes home and catches you trying to get off after a week of him being away on a business trip. look at you, so desperate and needy. you couldn’t wait for him to come relieve you? now you sit there, struggling not to make a sound. every time you do, the smacks get harder.

[ DAY 8 ━━ MARKING WITH JEONGIN ] <2k> ⭐️

Jeongin can’t seem to take his eyes off of your body. the way it walked through the halls of your shared apartment, the way you looked so frail in his clothing, even how his arms wrapped around your body. he wanted to eat you and tear you apart. make sure you knew that you belonged to him.

[ DAY 9 ━━ BONDAGE WITH CHANGBIN ] <1.5k>

a little bondage never hurt anyone right? how arousing it must be to have your hands tied behind your back while being fucked like he hasn’t seen you in weeks. oh right, he hasn’t!

[ DAY 10 ━━ COCK WARMING WITH SAN ] <1.9k> ⭐️🍓

while stuck in a winterstorm you decide to keep yourself busy by doing your makeup. of course the two of you make sure to keep the heat on, but san can’t help but want more of your sweet warmth.

[ DAY 11 ━━ SOMNOPHILIA WITH SEONGHWA ] <1.8k> ⭐️🍓

you wake up, restless and needy but still want your pretty boyfriend to get his rest. it won’t hurt to ride him softly while he sleeps right? as long as you stay quiet?

[ DAY 12 ━━ PHONE SEX WITH BANGCHAN ] <1.4k> 🍓

after a long day of work bangchan just wants to relax, but all he can think about is you. he tries to get off only to get a call from you and your complaints about the day you had. your voice turns him on, makes him greedy for you more than before. it’s such a rush getting off to the person who hasn’t got a slightest clue.

[ DAY 13 ━━ BREEDING KINK WITH MINGI ] <1.5k> 🍓

after a long day of baby sitting your niece, mingi can’t help but think what it would be like to see you with a child of his own. to have a mini him running around bothering you… to have you filled with him to the point where it spills out of you.

[ DAY 14 ━━ NUDES WITH HONGJOONG ] <1.3k> ⭐️

your boredom only worsens while hongjoong is working in the studio, leading you to tease him with spicy “i miss you” photos. who knew how needy your boyfriend could be for you that he’d get off right there in his own workplace.

★ BONUS DAYS ★

i’ve decided to collect some spicy twt links for you all hehe 🤭 if you’re comfortable with nsfw links then click away! if not, then that’s ok! this is simply a thank you to everyone who has supported this lovely event and my acc overall! <33

[ DAY 15 ━━ NSFW LINKS: ATZ HYUNG LINE ]

members: seonghwa, hongjoong, yunho, & yeosang

[ DAY 16 ━━ NSFW LINKS: ATZ MAKNAE LINE ]

members: san, mingi, wooyoung & jongho

[ DAY 17 ━━ NSFW LINKS: SKZ HYUNG LINE ]

members: bangchan, lee know, changbin, & hyunjin

[ DAY 18 ━━ NSFW LINKS: SKZ MAKNAE LINE ]

members: han, felix, seungmin & jeongin

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @h4untedgrl @rvereri @scarfac3 @jjongibears @kittykat-25 @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @tiredlittlevirgo @joonezra @honeyhwaaa @evidive @potentialgay @dollywoo @losrpark @motherseonghwa23 @inniesfanblog @stephanieeeyang @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub @katsukis1wife @unbel1ve4ble @sojuxxi @felixleftchickennugget

skz only: @bluesungology

atz only: @nopension @bbdeongi

: ̗̀➛ back to homepage

: ̗̀➛ back to main masterlist

: ̗̀➛ join my taglist

[palmerzy]

Hi, I loved your recent Spencer Reid blurb, I was wondering if you would do another nsfw blurb with sub Spence and maybe some Somno?? Like he can’t help himself when he’s so tired and he barely realises what he’s doing? 🫶🫶

hey anon, thanks for requesting! i wasn’t totally sure if you meant reader to spencer or spencer to reader, so i went for the latter - i hope that’s okay! if that’s not what you meant, feel free to send another ask and i’ll appease that <3 for now, please enjoy!

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes, incl. somnophilia. read at your own discretion.

spencer would be coming home late from a case, and he’s just desperate to spend some time with you - to spend some time inside of you.

his face falls when he pushes open the door to his bedroom, seeing your sleeping form already knocked out on his bed, and he internally chides himself for staying behind at the bau longer than he should have. now, his girlfriend is passed out, and he’s sporting a hard on - the taunting punishment for daydreaming on his journey home.

as a responsible man, somewhat, he grumbles to himself but gets ready for bed nonetheless, pouting at the thought of having to go to sleep without being able to share the night with you, knowing it’s his own fault.

he’d climb into bed beside you, narrowing his eyes at the sight of you in just your panties and one of his button ups, like you’re literally messing with him in your sleep. a defeated sigh passes his lips, and he snuggles up against you, his chest against your back as he wills sleep to take him before his thoughts wander too far.

of course, sleep doesn’t take him. not when he can feel you shifting in your unconscious state, your ass pressing just perfectly against his hard-on, something you’re blissfully unaware of. he tells himself he can’t wake you up, not for an issue as small as his petulant neediness.

and yet, spencer recalls a conversation in which you’d told him you wouldn’t mind being woken up with his head between your thighs, or with the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance. well - you’d said it a lot more innocent than that, but he knew the implications. he knows what you’d meant, and he finds himself questioning his morals with how he’s considering it.

in his mind, he draws it up to him simply being tired and needy. he’s been at work all day, barely able to talk to you, and then he comes home to find you asleep. he can’t help feeling a little down, a little pouty, and a little bit guilty as he reaches down between your bodies to pull your panties aside.

he waits for a reaction, and even when he gets none, he perseveres. a finger dips beneath your folds, testing the waters, and his slightly drowsy mind is elated to find you just about wet enough for him. you’ve been wetter, sure, but he knows you’re sleeping, your body isn’t anticipating him. that’s what you wanted, right? to be woken up by him? he’s just providing his partner with what they’d wanted. he’s a good boyfriend.

his mind is a blur when he tugs his pyjama pants down and pushes forward, eyes rolling back when he sinks into your warmth, your body involuntarily clenching around him.

with furrowed brows, he studies your body, waiting for you to stir awake. he’s silently begging for you to wake up so he can continue, so he can have his fill of you and then the both of you can get some sleep.

when you don’t, he stills, keeping himself sheathed within you. he’s at war with his mind, debating on whether or not to keep going. he knows he’s not in his right mind, not with how tired he is after a long days work. he should pull out and just go take care of himself.

but he doesn’t, and it’s not long before he’s slowly thrusting up into you, biting down on his bottom lip to muffle his whines. he’s not a massive fan of taking you from behind, he likes to see your face, but he has no choice here - spooning you as he gently grasps your hip, his cock half submerged into your unknowing body.

he continues like that for at least a minute, muffled gasps and whimpers passing his pursed lips as he shallowly dips into you over and over, refusing to come from his invasion. he wants you to wake up, he really does, yet he can’t deny how good it feels to be able to satisfy himself with your body like this, and he finds his guilt rising more with each second.

when you finally awaken, his face lights up, his cock stilling and feeling your pussy clench around him, as if pulling him further in. “spence?” you’d mumble ever so quietly, and he swears he could’ve come just from the sound. he’d nod slowly, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder, whispering sweet apologies. “‘m so sorry,” “couldn’t help myself, i tried- mmph, i really tried,” “is this okay? please tell me it’s okay,” he’d whimper over and over, until you were nodding, telling him you were going back to sleep and allowing you to find his own pleasure, finally pressing his cock as deep as he’d originally wanted to, guilt washed away.

askbox open, come talk to me about spence <3

[mickyschumacher]

[I THINK HE KNOWS!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a fake and curated date in italy on valentine's day is no one's idea of fun except a publicist’s. but all it does is take a walk around monza to know the difference between what's real and what's fake.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, fake dating trope, reader is a graduate uni student, lando being a dream boyfriend, kinda suggestive at the end, mentions of horrible fans and privacy invaded, me knowing nothing about italy let alone lombardy at the end as well.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k

𝐀/𝐍: third fic of my series! i really loved writing this one! fake dating is always such a hit or miss to write about but in this case, it was a lot easier. hope you enjoyed it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Life’s a funny thing really. Full of mistakes leaving you wondering how you ever got there.  

And as you sat on a bench, looking over at the view of Lake Como in Lombardy, Italy, with ‘hidden’ paparazzi down the street, you began wondering the exact same thing.  

“How long do you think they’ll be here?” You queried, turning your body to face Lando.  

Lando tilted his head, resting his cheek in his hand as he leaned on the top of the bench. His blue eyes briefly raked over you and then where the paparazzi hid. He looked over at his watch. “Give or take twenty minutes. They’ll probably be hungry for actual food soon.”  

You withheld your sigh. How did you get here? Time sure had flown as seven months ago you were just a graduating university student with loan after loan on her shoulders. The very student who still decided to have a sweet treat after handing in her assignment and headed to your favourite cafe. The very student who bumped into Lando Norris and had her bracelet snag on the sleeve of his jacket, landing you in a compromising position as you tried to take it out.  

The very student who woke up the next day with her entire privacy invaded as ‘fans’ hunted you online and seemingly decided not only were you Lando’s girlfriend but the ‘perfect match’. 

That was you.  

Mere hours later, you had Lando’s publicist and underlings knocking at your door with a comprehensive contract and a promise to pay your student loans and pay you. You didn’t think it would last this long. Three months tops... surely. 

So, you signed it. A contract declaring that you were fake dating Lando Norris.  

They said it would help Lando’s image. And help it did. Lando had never looked better to his sponsors. Apparently dating a university graduate makes you look more polished and mature, enough to at least secure a dozen contracts. Most fans seemed to love you. Even the driver’s had taken a liking to you.  

But to you, Lando, and a handful of selectively picked people, this was all fake.  

Every decision was carefully made. The matching jewellery, what he said, what you posted, where you met, the hugs, the arms around the waist, the staring, the kisses... 

And six months later, here you were. On a curated date with the Lando Norris at Lake Como on Valentine’s Day – the third day of your trip. You had both compromised, agreeing to each make a list of things so do in Lombardy, two of which had to be a couple’s activity for the sake of it.  

You had completed most of both of your lists. A visit to Teatro Alla Scala, an opera theatre (your idea, obviously). A guided tour Villa Del Balbianello because Lando needed to see some more real-life scenes of Star Wars (mostly ended up taking photos of you the entire time). An agreed night out from the both of you to Navigli to consume ‘local food.’  

Lando, who desperately wanted to have walk around Lake Como, was sorely disappointed when he spotted the paparazzi hiding around the corner. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching your fingers trail the cracks in the wooden bench.  

“It’s okay,” you assured. “It’ll be over soon anyways.” 

Lando knew you were talking about the paparazzi. But he couldn’t help but think about your relationship with him.  

That day at the cafe... the only reason people thought you two were in a relationship wasn’t just because you were barely a centimetre apart trying to remove your bracelet but in all the photos people had captured, Lando was staring at you like it was love at first sight.  

And before he knew it, everything had gone down. The fans, his publicist, the media... it was a shitshow. And then you showed up two days later having signed a contract to be his fake girlfriend.  

Lando hated it. Fuck, he hated it so much. He hated that he dragged you into this. He hated that every moment with you was planned. And he especially hated that he couldn’t like you openly. Not with you thinking it was fake.  

Lando looked down back at his watch. He sighed, leg beginning to shake out of impatience. 

You raised a brow. Naturally, you put a hand on his arm. “Lando... is everything okay?” 

Lando flickered his eyes to your hand and back to your face. He moved his arm from your grasp, grabbing your hand instead. “Come on. We’re leaving,” he stated.  

Your eyes widened as he stood up, bringing you up with him. “W-What? Lan–we’re supposed to leave in thirty minutes,” you murmured quietly, leaving only him to hear your voice.  

“I don’t care,” he started, increasing his walking pace. “Whatever you do... just hold on to me, okay?” 

You furrowed your brows. “Lando, what are-” 

Abruptly Lando paused in his steps. He turned to you, blue eyes staring hard back at you. “Do you trust me?” 

“I–” 

“Do you trust me? Yes, or no?” He repeated softly. 

You gulped nervously, unable to look away from him. “Yes.” 

A look of relief washed over his face as he nodded. “Good. Then hold on. And don’t let go.” 

“Lando, I still don’t get what you–MEAN!” You yelped as Lando began running in no particular direction. You tightened your grasp on his hand while your legs struggled to catch up to him. The problems of having an athlete boyfriend.  

The wind felt serene. The sun was oddly warm despite it being the winter season. It was as though spring was trying to come a little early. All the early architecture you had seen on the way here was beginning to blur into one uniform colour. You weren’t sure where you were going or why but all you knew was that you were going way too fast.  

“Lando! I swear to God, if you get us killed–” 

“You said you trusted me,” Lando yelled back, cautiously looking over his shoulder. He could see the paparazzi struggling to follow the both of you.  

You panted, pushing your legs to keep up. “I do! Breaking into a sprint all of a sudden with no idea in mind, however, begs a slightly different answer.” 

Lando couldn’t help but laugh over the air and God, did you love it. You had heard of people saying that a laugh could so like music to one’s ears. You never understood it. It was a laugh. A reaction. How could it be musical? But in that moment, you understood. It wasn’t just the laugh. It required the context, the smile, the thought... and only then did it become an orchestrated musical masterpiece.  

Another yelp left your mouth as Lando pulled you to the side, situating yourselves in an empty shaded alleyway. You rested your back as comfortably as you could against the stone while Lando stood in front of you, hand still wrapped around yours.  

You both waited quietly. Turning your head slightly, you could see a small flock of black clothed paparazzi walk by, all ushering and yelling, mystified to how you both had disappeared.  

“Okay,” you swallowed hard, turning back to Lando. “I think they’re...” You seem to have lost your ability to speak as you found Lando staring at you. It had been a common occurrence within the past few months and it never got any easier. “They’re gone,” you confirmed, chest heaving.  

“You should probably start joining me on my workouts,” he mumbled, eyes flickering over you again, absorbing the sight of the thin sheet of sweat across your skin.  

You narrowed your eyes, moving your hand from his grasp to hit him with the side of your bag. A groan fell from his lips. “Ow!” He yelled, making you clasp a hand over his mouth. Your head darted to the side, checking whether anyone heard him.  

“What was that for?” He queried after you removed your hand from his mouth.  

“For being an asshole. And for making me run. Which reminds me... why did you make us run?” You queried with a more than unhappy tone.  

Lando grinned. “We still have one thing on your list to do.” 

You furrowed your brows. “I didn’t add anything else.” 

Lando’s hand rummaged through the pocket of his shorts, taking out a familiar piece of paper – the very one you had written all your activities on. And right at the bottom was an activity you thought you tore off.  

Your eyes widened, hand darting out to grab the piece of paper but Lando was too quick. “Nuh-uh,” he tutted, holding the paper close to him. “I’m getting this framed.” 

You skin burned at his words. You clearly remembered what you wrote.  

Walk the Monza track with Lando (and preferably some gelato). 

“I was supposed to take that off,” you mumbled.  

Lando frowned. “You don’t want to do it? Or did you not want to do it with me?” 

You blinked blankly at Lando. “Are you stupid? Did you read the same thing I did? Obviously with you. I just... we’ll probably get mobbed so it’s a stupid idea.” 

Lando understood what you meant. Visiting in Italy for two days now had proven to be incredibly difficult with a fan asking for a photo every other minute. He was appreciative that you were so understanding but he felt awful. 

“Yeah... I mean it would be crazy if you had a boyfriend who could rent out the entire track for a couple of hours,” Lando yawned, stretching his arms nonchalantly.  

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see your mouth fall open. “Lando... you didn’t.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand once again. “I did. Now come on. We’re going to be late!”  

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

You blinked blankly once you arrived to the empty Monza track. You had preoccupied yourself in the car ride here, pointing out all the interesting things you were seeing as Lando drove to the track. You were going to fall asleep if you hadn’t arrived there any earlier. But now that you were... you didn’t think your eyes could get any wider.  

“Is that a...” You turned to Lando with twinkling eyes.  

“Just go pick your flavour,” he narrowed his eyes.  

A squeal fell from your lips and before you knew it, you were hugging Lando tightly. You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, happily accepting your hug. “Thank you,” you murmured next to his ear.  

Lando smiled calmly despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. He was sure he could stay like this forever if he could. “You’re welcome. I... It’s so much less than what you deserve, but it’s all I could think to do given the... circumstances.”  

You stared at the pavement of the track heavily, Lando’s words swirling around your head. Right... the circumstances. You cleared your throat, pulling away from him even though you could’ve sworn you felt him tighten his grasp momentarily.  

“Come on. Pick your flavour or I’m just going to get you all chocolate,” you called out, waking over to the gelato cart he had hired. 

Lando sighed, briefly making a disgusted expression. He followed after you with a small smile. Despite the wind, he could still smell you on him.  

You greeted the cart owner, excitedly eyeing all the gelato flavours. There were so many to choose from... how were you ever going to pick? “Can I get...” 

“She’ll get mango, chocolate, raspberry, and lemon in a cup,” Lando finished, hovering behind you.  

You gaped, snapping your head to Lando. “How did you know?” 

“Better question is,” Lando started, resting his mouth right above your shoulder and near your ear, “why wouldn’t I?” 

You shivered at his words, cheeks burning at the small grin playing on his lips. “I’m not sharing any of mine,” you muttered, moving your eyes to the gelato.  

Lando pouted teasingly. “Please,” he sung, tilting his head so you could see him blink his eyes rapidly. 

You gulped, taking a step away before you succumbed to his wishes. “I think I’m going to throw up.” 

Lando gasped. “So rude!” 

You chuckled taking the cup of gelato while thanking the owner. Lando narrowed his eyes at you, ordering his own combination of pistachio, melon, and orange.  

You made a face at his cup as he walked towards you. “There is something so wrong with you.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, nudging you forwards to the entrance of the track. “Just be quiet and walk.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

You and Lando walked comfortably at your own pace around the track, eating your gelato while he explained parts of the track or its history.  

“I’m not gonna lie,” you started, finishing your spoonful of raspberry, “Curva Parabolica makes me feel sick. Every time it came on the TV, I thought I was going to throw up.” 

Lando raised a brow, resting his spoon in his cup. “I thought you didn’t watch them?” 

It was always Lando’s assumption you didn’t watch the races. Even when you came to them, if there was a camera, you’d flash a smile, otherwise there was no other reason to be there. You were at the podiums because you had to be, not because you wanted to be. 

You snorted, looking at him incredulously. “Of course, I watch them. Why wouldn’t I? You’re freaking racing! I’m always so proud of you, no matter where or how you finish. You don’t see me next your mum and dad, cheering you on at the end of the race?” 

Of course he did. You were the first person he would look for at a race. And if you weren’t there, he’d look at the camera in hopes you were watching. And all this time... you had been.  

Lando’s mouth dried. “I just thought...” 

You looked at his face and you could read his mind. “You thought it was fake.” 

He blinked, regret washing over his face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it,” he apologised.  

You took a spoonful of your mango gelato and eyeing his mournful expression. “It’s okay. If there’s one thing you should know, my proudness and happiness for you isn’t fake. Even if this whole thing is.” 

And there it was again. The bitter reminder that this entire relationship was fake. That perhaps the only real thing in your relationship was how you met.  

But this was real. 

This – the track, the gelato, the conversation – this was real.  

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, moving his eyes to the rest of the track as he ate large soon of his melon gelato. He exhaled slowly, trying to remember where he was once again. “Okay... pop quiz! Who was Variante Ascari named after?” 

You cleared your throat, pulling on a thoughtful expression. “Um Al.. Alberto Ascari? The Italian driver, right?” 

“Thank God someone’s been paying attention,” he joked as you neared the named turn.  

You rolled your eyes. “I should thank Fewtrell for that one. Remember that stream he made us join?” 

“Yeah,” Lando laughed softly, all the memories hitting him at once. It was really sweet of Max actually. It was a time when some ‘fans’ were being particularly awful to you. Saying you were using Lando for fame because you barely knew anything about the sport.  

Max then created a poorly made quiz about Formula 1 and got you and Lando to join. Max and Lando pretended not to know much so you were all in the same boat. And any time the right answer was mention, Lando would occasionally squeeze your leg to give you a clue. The stream was flooded with some of the kindest comments, telling you to ignore everyone else and just focus on your health and your relationship with Lando.  

It was one of the moments where you realised how good of a friend Max was. Lando was lucky to have someone who cared for him that much.  

Lando looked down at his cup and let out a dramatic sigh. 

You didn’t even need to bat an eye towards. “I told you I'm not sharing,” you reminded, quickening your pace.  

It didn’t take long for him to catch up. “Please, please. I can see you have like two spoons of mango and lemon. Come on. Sharing is caring.” 

“No–Lando! Stop following me!”  

All of a sudden, you and Lando were running again. But this time, you weren’t worried about some paparazzi or the destination. It was just you and Lando.  

“No offense, but you are not outrunning me,” Lando called out from behind you, running with what you were pretty sure was a smug grin. 

You huffed, trying to push your legs further but you could feel him hovering. You came to an abrupt halt. “You’re right. I can’t outrun you,” you smiled, turning to him. “But I can out-eat you.” 

Lando’s grin dropped as you combined the two flavours of gelato and plopped them in your mouth. He stood there, dumbfounded while you happily ate the rest.  

You replicated his smug grin from earlier and poked your tongue out. “All finished. Sorry,” you shrugged with no sound of an apology hidden in your voice.  

Lando swallowed hard, eyes fixated on your mouth. A step closer to you, his body was pressed on yours. His hand travelled up your neck, the other hand resting on your waist to pull you closer.  

You inhaled slowly, hairs on your body standing straight. You tried meeting his eyes but all you could see was him focus on your lips. Instinctively, your hand fell to his arm around your waist, fastening yourself to him.  

“I... I think I can still taste it,” he said, voice hoarse and dry. He wasn’t sure if he could even recognise himself. 

“Lando... I–we're not on the clock,” you whispered, unwilling to untangle yourself from his grasp.  

“I don’t care.” 

In the blink of an eye, Lando’s lips were smashed against yours and fuck, his lips were soft and pillowy as usual. Your stomach churned upon feeling Lando pushing you closer to him, if that were possible. His fingers were cold against your skin, creeping under the hem of your shirt to rub tingling circles onto your skin.  

A breathy gasp fell from your lips while goosebumps littered your skin. Lando took advantage of this, groaning against your lips as he darted his tongue to explore your mouth. He could feel himself press into you, rubbing his hard-on against you.  

You think now would be an appropriate time to self-implode. You had all the signs. Burning skin, dizziness, and the lost ability to breathe. 

Lando almost buckled under your touch as your fingers scoured his taut torso, lingering dangerously close to his v-line. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. His hands had found themselves holding yours, preventing you from undoing him any further. His chest heaved, rising up and down while he stared at your swollen lips and moved his eyes to meet yours.  

“I want this to be real,” he pleaded, moving your hand to his face. “Please.” 

“Lando,” you started but he didn’t want to hear it.  

He shook his head. “I think I’m falling in love with you. I think I have been since we first met,” he sighed out, collecting himself. “I don’t want to do this when it’s fake. I want to be with you because what I feel is real. Because you drive me crazy and I can’t imagine a future without you.” 

You blinked, feeling his hand trail over yours as you caressed his face. Your heart raced loudly in your ears. How were you supposed to respond to that? “I...” 

“Please say something. Anything,” he begged, blue eyes heavily staring down at you. 

“As long as you promise to walk with me on every track. Oh, and get me gelato.” 

Lando let out the biggest sigh of relief, almost collapsing against your hand. His head dipped down, pressing his lips against you once again, taking you into a long kiss. He sighed, pulling away.  

His arms fell around your waist as he grinned at you. “I promise.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑