#hope i didn't miss any if so not intentional

[muniemimi]

I HAD A VISION OK. ehem excuse my ugly grammar, to anyone who comes across this post, hope you like it:33 (also love the art)

       Huff! And there we go, last sack of orchid seeds to organize. "That was a pretty heavy An, I'm glad you called me over before Ken-san would see you lifting and scold me for letting his precious daughter get tired." The sun continues to direct its blaze at our little flower shop managed by my coworker, and singing partners, dad. Along with the light, the winds blow a warm breeze past us, balancing the temperature. The air smelt of wet soil and the mix of fragrance from different flowers we had just finished arranging just now spread. An hour from now, we're able to go back to the 'Weekend Cottage' where me and An usually practice with the supervision and guidance of Ken-san to take a short break before we go back to watch the shop and tend to our costumers.

      "Akito.. don't inhale the pancakes at our break later.. leave some for Kohane-chan! She promised me shes coming back today! I'm planning to give her some too while I teach her bout' our shop."

     "Aah enough with this lovestruck manners! Alright, alright fine, I won't."

    I was already planning to hide the snacks for myself since earlier.. How'd she know I'd do it again? As expected of my close friend. For now I'll just slouch behind the counter and wait for time to pass by more quickly. Hurriedly, I focused my eyes on the lovely combination of petals infront of me. Chrysanthemums. The symbol of longevity and love. The way those countless petals curl to the middle of flower, focused on the most noticeable feature, the core. It was the way I have learned this flower had different colors too. My favorite. And it also happens that, that same plant represented my birth month. From the moment I had learned to walk, I had run across fields of flowers to which it seemed to be endless, and only one seemed to stop my being. It was as if it had poison, an antidote that could make me behave and listen. Since then I have kept chrysanthemums where I can see them, to watch them grow. Slowly, the clock slowly swings its arm around. While I intently adore the plants I have bloomed, an unfamiliar sound snatched my attention.

SNAP!

      A stem. My stem of sunflowers. I can faintly hear new steps from my side of the counter. An was in the greenhouse, sprinkling the shrubs I assume. I don't need to worry about that right now, I have to focus on who is suspiciously, threading lightly on a completely normal flower shop, if not a shopper. It can't be strays.. I've carefully fended them off and guided them away from the store so the plants wouldn't be disturbed. Or maybe I missed a few pups running around? Damn.. I should've just asked for help from An to drive away the dogs. I still can't seem to get used to getting close to them.. Our windows are tinted with translucent glass so it's pretty hard to see what was it that was rustling outside, so I need to check it out myself.

     I warily walk towards the wood door. It opens with no sound emitted, and I continue to inspect my surroundings, to find any movement, none. When I tilt my head to peek at the side I heard the snap, there was no one, nor no animal. What was visible was a sunflower that seemed to be trampled on the stem, but the flower itself didn't seem to be crushed. I hum to myself proudly to know that it really was a sunflower, glad to know I still know my own buds. Before I took another step to make sure no one was there, I call out a greeting, waiting for somebody to respond,

"..Hello?"

     And then I squat down to pick up the mangled handle of the wide flower. I got up from my knees, hearing the faint tapping of shoes behind me. I had thought it was An running towards here to call me back to watch the counter. It felt so similar to the sandals the star-clipped girl always wore when working.

    "Oh hey An, back from watering the plants so fast? Did you come here to ask me to come to the front desk? Don't worry about it, I just checked if there was someone here, it was probably just a stray dog I missed when I was shooing them away. Hah.. they stepped on my sunflower.. Anyway, do you mind if you take thi--"

CLICK!

!!!

    A..ah.. something clicks.

    I turn around in hopes the sunflower in my hand would be met with the bright, familiar face of my coworker only for it to be met with a.. gun..? Gun? Here? In this quiet, unknown town? Slowly trembling out of nervousness, I thought, I won't be able to defend myself if I attacked suddenly. They have a gun for heavens sake! 

    I can't quite see who was holding the weapon, only the hair of the individual being the first thing I notice. It was the combination of two seperate colors. It was a pale, muted baby blue on the left and a more dark, navy blue on the right. Was it a natural hair color they were born with? I can't help but stare at the odd mix of pigments. It strongly reminded me of orchids gathered with hyacinths and delphiniums in a bouquet, and was getting distracted by the fact a deadly weapon was still being pointed at my temple! I try my best to whisper a sentence without seemingly wanting to provoke the figure infront of me. Still poorly gripping the flower I had in my palm since earlier, visibly shaking and terrified.

   "..Your wound." 

   ".. ..?

   ..What..?"

(english seriously aint my first language, anyways I love akitoya)

mama im in love with a criminallll

[cheralith]

omg i really love your slytherin!kaiser au. !!!! your writing is so good !! 😋 i was wondering if you would do any other characters for this type of au if so could you do karasu hp au 🫡😈

character ; karasu tabito || wc ; 931 contains/cw ; gn!reader, no pronouns used, ravenclaw!reader, ravenclaw!karasu, hogwarts!au a/n ; this was sitting in my inbox for awhile and i honestly didn't really know what to write abt despite wanting to, so hope this is ok! another person added to the harem (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

karasu has always been a rather fascinating character to me personally; dare i say he's very relatable in terms of how he finds himself mediocre? so he gets very confused as to why he's sorted into ravenclaw when he first comes to hogwarts, the house known for producing the most extraordinary wizards because he doesn't think of himself as such. he thinks he's a fraud.

it doesn't help that such a mentality worsens over the years. he excels at his subjects, yes, but amongst the house that many of its students at the top ranks of their classes, karasu merely blends in with the rest of them. there's nothing outstanding about him in particular that makes him stand out from the rest of his house.

so he attempts to search for a way. quidditch catches his eye because of the fact that in all the houses, there are only seven people on a team and he thinks by being one of those seven, he'd be able to stand out from the house of three hundred-something people. he tries out in his third year and doesn't make the cut and it discourages him from trying again in his fourth because if he can't even stand out in tryouts, how the hell was he suppose to make a name for himself if he'd ever make the team?

what makes him destroy that mentality is when he meets you. early in the fifth year, you're in his group for care of magical creatures, where you pick up on his ability to tame animals just by knowing their weaker, vulnerable points. tells you to press on the side of a hippogriff's neck to help calm it down when he sees your tense on your first ride and that the beast could sense it.

you're discussing about the most recent loss ravenclaw incurred from slytherin during a class break, karasu listening intently. you complain that their newest chaser, chigiri hyoma, was an insane weapon on the field, for his speed was incomparable to the others on your own team and what you've seen in the past.

karasu, who was watching the game at the time, tells you that you should've been more perceptive, that you're the upcoming captain, aren't you?

when you furrow your brows and question what he means by that, disapproving of his tone, he merely tells you that you missed a crucial point in the game that would've obliterated slytherin's newest weapon. that chigiri hyoma can't ride for long periods of time since it puts a strain on his back that he suffered an injury on awhile back due to the resisting air pressure.

"yeah, sure, he can definitely fly fast," he says, waving a nonchalant hand, "but he can only do it when he's about t'score a goal. if y'were able to pick that up earlier, ya could've made sure that he exhausted himself faster."

karasu notices your wide-eyed staring after he finishes his ramble of possible tactics you guys should've done against the other players, pointing out some of their key weaknesses. he asks you harshly, "what?" and despite his sharp tone, your eyes just continue sparkling at him.

"have you ever thought about trying out for the team?" you ask him excitedly.

he frowns and picks at his fingernails, head down in shame. "tried to. in my third year," he mutters. "didn't get in."

"well," you start giddily, thinking you found a diamond in the rough. "one of our old beaters had to step down due to an injury... we're hosting tryouts soon for his replacement."

karasu catches your drift and is quick to turn it down, not wanting to embarrass himself like last time. "no thanks. i'm good."

"but!" you protest, "we could use someone like you. someone who's really analytical. all of us are a lot stronger on a physical sense, but you seem to really have the nail on the head of our opponents. imagine what you could do!"

"... i don't have much experience playin' quidditch," he admits, scratching the back of his heating neck, "i don't think i'd be able to do well as the others."

you bite your lip, trying to think of what to say to him. you suddenly think of a plan that may be just a tad bit unfair to the others that would want to try out, but you think karasu could really be an amazing addition to the team with analytical skills that could compare to a familiar prodigal redhead's.

"i probably shouldn't be doing this but," you beckon him with your hand and whisper into his ear, "i could practice with you. just so you can get a solid grip on the play."

he thinks despite the colder weather, he's heating up a little too fast for his sake when your voice sends shivers down his spine.

you pull back with an excited smile on your face as the professor tells everyone to gather together again.

"i'm serious, think about it," you say to him as you begin to walk off to join some other friends of yours. "we'd love to have someone as extraordinary as you on the team."

you throw him a thumbs up just before you run off, leaving karasu dazed with your voice echoing the one word he's been desiring to attain the status of for years now in his mind.

"extraordinary, huh..." he murmurs with a soft grin, staring at the back of your figure when you chat and laugh amongst your friends. "someone like you sayin' that to someone like me... that's pretty funny."

[ruiniel]

Tag games extravaganza

So because I can't tell my head from my tail these days I'm doing all the recent tag games in one. Thank you all for including me in these fun little distractions.

1. childhood crush vs current crush via @batsyforyou here

Brandon Lee playing The Crow was It

Today? Can't really think of any

3. challenge -> you’re starring in a movie with the last person you saved in your camera roll and the last song you listened to is the title. via @batsyforyou

Still him because I was looking for images but... Yeah

3. little guy maker｜Picrew , tagged by @batsyforyou here

This is Gaw'n, chaotic good

4. fuzzy worm maker | Picrew, tagged by @batsyforyou here and @junk-whunk-punk-artist here

She is the Night

5. Last line game, tagged by @cilil here , @herinke here and @batsyforyou here

The blades of grass and leaves onto the forest bed crunched beneath their tread. The elf appeared strangely absorbed by this, his head lowered as he stalked forward. "It does not matter. Not anymore."

6. You and your fav | Picrew , tagged by @batsyforyou here

Aw, well chose Carmilla, thought it'd be fun

7. What's the color palette of your name tagged by @batsyforyou here

Tracks!

0 pressure tag to choose and do whichever of these appeals: @demigoddessqueens @effervescentdragon @imma-lil-teapot @chthonicsiren @goschatewabn @fandomn00blr @hirazuki @asianbutnotjapanese @eveningalchemist @wyyvernn @polutrope and anyone else

[crescentmp3]

hiii! 'tis me.

[pseudowho]

"Yuuji-- if you don't mind, can I ask you something?"

Yuuji looked up from his phone, feeling so grown up to be in the Jujutsu High staffroom with Kento. He raised his eyebrows, the scar across his lip tugging up.

"Uh...yeah, sure. Go crazy."

"What is scary dog privilege, exactly?"

"Scary dog privilege? Huh, well...let's see, uhm...so it's like..."

Yuuji explained, all peaches and wide eyes and animated hands. Kento nodded occasionally, listening intently. His mind, naturally, strayed to you; you were what this was all about, after all.

As with any thought of you (you being his blossoming latent obsession), Kento's stomach flipped, his grip tightening fractionally around his coffee.

Kento remembered.

He remembered when he dropped you home. You checked over your shoulder, again, and again, and again, before you unlocked your door and hurried inside.

He remembered how he had once walked up behind you without much thought, and you spun with panic in your eyes. Kento recalled how quickly you had relaxed, to see it was him, and how high his hope climbed as a result.

He remembered how you had spilled the contents of your bag. You snatched your pepper spray up in the hope that his keen eyes had missed it.

He remembered how you headed to the subway after a staff night out. Your keys had been curiously gripped between your fingers, a weapon that wasn't a weapon.

He remembered, how just the day before, he and you had walked together through central Tokyo to get lunch. You had sat on a park bench together, and Kento had been so overwhelmed by the need to hold it together, Kento, keep it together, that he barely registered the relief written on your skin.

You had eaten in comfortable silence, then leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way to the bins.

"Thanks for the scary dog privilege, Kento. It's the first time in a long time that I've relaxed in public."

Kento's eyes had drifted closed for just a few moments too long, with the warmth of your lips on his skin, and he stuttered, fumbling, unlike himself.

"Ah...scary...dog privilege?" He asked, quiet. But you were already gone; throwing your crumbs to the ducks.

Yuuji's voice snapped Kento out of memory, and back to the staffroom.

"Dunno if that makes sense, Nanamin?"

A molten pit of spite and rage ignited in Kento once he put two and two together. Scary dog privilege. He gave you scary dog privilege. Why was walking the streets in safety a privilege? Shit. Kento kept his voice level, patting Yuuji on the shoulder as he left, his steaming coffee abandoned.

"Thank you, Yuuji. Stay safe out there this afternoon, and call me when you're finished, please."

If Kento hadn't already felt dirty enough with the knowledge that he pleasured himself to thoughts of you every night, he felt worse, now. He stalked through the corridors of Jujutsu High, calling Ijichi, calling Shoko, determined to find you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Once you noticed how one man's gaze lingered on you, you noticed them all. To you, almost all seemed to do it, and to every woman, be they 18 or 80, tall or short or curvy or lithe or gay or straight or anywhere in between. Then, when you began to notice the gazes on 16 year olds, or 12 year olds, or--

You had nauseated by the time you turned the corner to grab lunch. Simultaneously built up and dragged down and accused, you were a madonna and a whore and a bitch. You wondered, vaguely, how deeply, how incurably the disease ran, as you entered the bustling café. You didn't want to think about it. You'd just grab food, and go, and--

"Ah. Good afternoon."

You blinked, to see Kento before you in the queue, and felt a warm burst of joy from your tummy to your toes.

"Kento, I'm...happier than you know, to see you, actually."

A satisfied hum. "I had a feeling you might be. Now...about something you said yesterday...."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento didn't immediately strike one as a scary dog. He was built, yes, but his suits hid it well, and he was only a little taller than average, and really quite mild, but--

-- oh.

The way his glares could frost a soul. The way other men bounced off him, a stone wall, when a shoulder 'accidentally' hit his. The way his eyes found wayward gazes like a sniper, with the dulcet loading of a bullet behind his sneer. The silent commanding respect. The dares that other men would not dare.

It was no wonder, then, how you and Kento, became you and Shoko and Kento, became you and Shoko and Maki and Nobara and Kento. While individually able to fight your own fights, feeling Kento's scary dog privilege melt threats with acid, was a burden blissfully relieved.

With Kento's protective Midas' touch, your daily lunches turned to gold, unsullied and unmolested. Still...he was there for the whole group.

So why, then, in such a large group, did you look up to find his gaze on you, and only you? How could his eyes caress without staring? It was sorcery, surely.

Kento sequestered you one day, throwing his crumbs to the ducks alongside yours, as the others chatted on the benches behind you. You looked up, shooting him a sideways smile, and wondering how you could ever be good enough for him. He spoke quietly.

"I always believed a dog to have just one owner."

You felt your stomach twist with insinuation. You laid the thread.

"...oh?"

"And while I'm happy to offer my privileges to the benefit of a group, I...would like to be in the position to make such a privilege exclusive."

You swallowed hard, looking sideways again with hope against hope against hope against--

"Are you...saying you'd like to be my scary dog?"

"Very, very much so."

[mytheoristavenue]

Shy Makeouts with Your Fav!

Summary: You initiate a makeout as a confession and he's just putty in your hands!

Warnings: Just fluffy stuff, makeouts, sub!character, dom!reader, gn!reader

"H-Hold on..." He said, staring up at you shyly. He'd always had the softest spot for you and no matter how confident he could be, no matter how resilient- he never could tell you no. That's what had him sitting on his own bedroom floor with you in his lap, kissing down his jaw without any shame for knowing neither had confessed yet.

"Sh-Shouldn't we talk about this first...?" He asked weakly, swallowing thickly as his head rolled to the side to give you more room. This felt so taboo, and yet he had no intent to stop it. "Hey..." He shuddered while your lips brushed his throat, but his palms stayed planted on the floor.

He could never pinpoint what it was about you that made him so shy. Maybe it was you dazzling smile or the mischievous glint your eyes would have when you had an idea that would get him in trouble. Kinda like right now. You were smirking at him for above, peppering his face with kisses, giggling at his blushed cheeks and furrowed brows.

"I'm seriou- ahh..." He sighed, melting when your lips brushed the shell of his ear. Your playful giggle rang in his ears as he tried to muster the willpower to stop you, to make you talk things out with him. "W-Wait, please-" He begged, trembling under your touch, but his arms betrayed him, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away. "Just talk to me, you know I hate it when you get all cryptic..."

"What would you like me to say, big guy?" You finally mused, breath hot on his ear.

"That you like me...?" He confessed with red cheeks. "T-That you keep kissing on me because you want be my..." He didn't have the heart to finish his thought, the embarrassment becoming too much to bare.

"Oh, but I do like you..." You smirk deviously. "And I do want to be whatever it is you want me to be." You didn't miss how his infectious, dopey grin cracked across his face at your confirmation. "There's that cute smile..." You giggled, settling back into his lap as he melted against your touch like butter in a pan. "Now, where where we?"

Mezo Shoji, Fumikage Tokoyami, Mashirao Ojiro, Eijiro Kirishima, Tamaki Amajiki, Izuku Midoryia, Tenya Iida, Hanta Sero, Shoto Todoroki, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Juzo Honenuki, Shihai Kuroiro, Iguro Obanai, Inosuke Hashibura, Tanjiro Kamado, Gyomei Himejima, Tomioka Giyuu, God Usopp, Roronoa Zoro, Vinsoke Sanji, Cyborg Franky, Portgas D. Ace, Spirit Albarn, Soul Evans, and whoever else you'd like!

I hope you guys like this format! I wont be doing this like this all the time, but I thought it might be a way to give yall something when I'm away for a few days at a time!

[astralis-ortus]

form of affection

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— everything feels... new.

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff warning → chan and reader both referred to as baby, one use of 'my girl', reader on period :(, minor cussing here and there, not proofread!ㅠ a.n → honestly i don't know what to write atm (aside from the continuation for that one seungmin fic) but i still want to write something lighthearted so... this happens. welp. :] ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

you messed up.

"fuck," you finally muttered under your breath, hand clutching your forehead in frustration. you know you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling earlier this morning and followed through with the precautions anyway.

again you turned against the mirror, still bearing some hope that whatever you saw earlier was just your eyes playing tricks on you, but no—the damned red spot on your white dress is still there, mocking you through reflection of your boyfriend's bathroom mirror.

"baby?"

you jumped at the sudden knock on the bathroom door, feeling like your heart has suddenly fallen to your feet. fuck—how are you supposed to tell him?

"are you okay? do you need me to come in?"

"no!" you hurriedly replied, only later cursing at yourself for not maintaining your composure. making chris worried was definitely your intention after going missing to his bathroom for quite a period of time, and your reply definitely wasn't helping your resolute.

"are you sure?" chris' voice were laced with concern, and you could even picture the frown that's definitely present on his forehead. "can you crack the door open? just so i'm sure you're really okay."

"it's just—"

"baby," again, the image of your boyfriend's stern gaze immediately popped up in your mind. "please? just one sec. i need to make sure that you're alright."

it's not that you're worried chris would say anything about it—you're well aware of the kind of person your boyfriend of 4 months is, and you completely trust him. it's just that…

you're embarrassed.

the click of lock were soon followed by a soft creak, revealing chris' concerned eyes beyond the slight opening of the door. his relief was audible even to you, gaze softening when he saw the glimpse of your flushed face.

"okay," chris' lips formed a soft smile, as if trying to soothe you, "are you sure all is good? do you need any help?"

"…today."

"hm?" blinking in confusion, chris brought his face closer to you, "sorry, baby, i couldn't—"

"i got my period today," you quickly repeated, cheeks heating up as you heard your own confession, "and i didn't bring any feminine products with me since i wasn't supposed to have it for another week. i also might've stained your couch. i'm sorry."

chris turned quiet, and you could practically see thoughts flashing through his eyes—but you're not a mind reader, and the passing seconds made your heart grew heavy. is he embarrassed to hear that? is he going to send you home? is he going to get upset? should you have not—

"if i'm not mistaken… i think there should be some pads and maybe some disposable underwear under the sink, baby," the sound of chris' voice promptly ceased the vortex of worry growing in your head, your eyes again meeting chris' clear ones, "i bought it a while back for you but i don't remember if i placed it here or in my room. could you check?"

despite the confusion, your body had instinctively moved along chris' request. to your surprise, you do find the items your boyfriend had mentioned, tucked neatly in a small box of necessities. you chest bubbled up in gratitude and filled with warmth—you never expected chris to do this for you, and yet, he managed to come over and beyond any of your expectations.

"found it?"

nodding your head, you swallowed back the tears welling up in your eyes. gosh—period hormones! "yeah, just found them. thank you, baby."

a sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the door, and you couldn't help but smile—if it wasn't clear before, then now you're determined to find a way to repay chris somehow. frankly, at times you still don't understand the lengths chris would willingly go for you, or if you even deserve to be at the receiving end of chris' gesture of affection at all. the chris you've gotten to know is so full of love, and you don't even know if you have the capacity to love him the way he cares about you.

but in the mean time,

you've decided to try and accept chris' form of affection for you.

"okay," you could hear the smile in chris' voice as he speaks, "i'll go grab a change of clothes for you while you settle down, yeah? oh, and you do know where the towel if you want to shower, right?"

"yeah, i know," you held back a giggle as you reappeared in chris' vision between the crack of the door, clutching the box close to your chest with a beaming smile, "thank you, baby. really. i really appreciate this."

and with a smile equaling to the warmth of a spring's sun, chris chuckled a reply,

"anything for my girl."

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[absentlyabbie]

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.

[uzurakis]

hii again!! I’m here to request a Drabble/headcannon (doesn’t matter to me :3) where the reader gets approached by two strangers n one of them goes ‘hi my friend thinks you’re cute’ and motions to their friend next to them even though the jjk men (yuta and Megumi but feel free to add anyone else!) is literally RIGHT next to them (this happened during lunch a week ago n all my friends laughed at me 😭😭😭)

WHEN A STRANGER CALLS YOU CUTE IN PUBLIC!

featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji.

n. hi baby! i supposed you’re the same nonnie that requested the stalker one? thank you for trusting me with your requests cause yours are always enjoyable to write and your ideas are *french kiss*. i hope ya like this one and please if you have any ideas you wanna share, hmu! ill always write yours bby. mwaah xoxo

hey, excuse me! my friend thinks you’re cute . .

ITADORI YUUJI. you exchanged a surprised glance with itadori, who cracked a smile sheepishly. "oh yeah? thanks," he replied, clearly missing the implication. the stranger nudged their friend, urging them to speak up. "uh, yeah," offering a nervous smile. "you're really cute."

your boyfriend only chuckled, oblivious to their intentions. "right? my girlfriend is the cutest!” he said proudly, pinching your cheeks infront of them. “yuu, we’re in public..”

the strangers shared a bewildered look, realizing that their attempt to strike up a conversation with you had been unintentionally thwarted. "uh, yeah, you’re really lucky," the stranger managed to mumble before they awkwardly excuse themselves and slipped back into the crowd.

you and itadori watched them go, bemused expressions on your faces. "did you catch what they were trying to do?" you asked, stifling a laugh. itadori shook his head, still clueless. "nah, but it doesn't matter. i already know who the cutest one here is," he said, planting a kiss on your cheek, causing you to giggle at his oblivion.

GOJO SATORU. before you could respond, gojo stepped forward, subtly clearing his throat. you shot him a puzzled look, wondering what he was up to. “yeah? well, she's taken," declaring at once, voice laced with amusement as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

the strangers kept eyeing you curiously, seemingly undisturbed by the statement he made. "oh really? too awful," one of them remarked, maintaining a smile.

gojo raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with you. it was clear they weren't getting the hint. with a sigh, he cleared his throat again, this time louder, as he firmly took your hand and started to lead you away. “sorry, folks, but we're kinda busy," your boyfriend said with a charming smile, gently steering you in the opposite direction.

as you both walked away, gojo grinned down at you. "just making sure they know who you belong to, darling,” he said, pulling you closer as you continued your walk through the path.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you immediately glanced nervously at megumi beside you. however, your boyfriend remained silent, his expression unreadable as he gazed at the strangers.

unsure of how to reply, you gave the stranger a hesitant smile. megumi didn't express his jealousy, but it was obvious that he was still very much in the dark about it. the stress was literally radiating off of him. "um, thank you," you managed to murmur, feeling awkward under megumi's scrutiny.

the strangers seemed unfazed by megumi's silence, continuing to chat amicably with you. they asked questions, trying to engage you both in conversation, but megumi remained aloof, his attention solely focused on you. you glanced at him, catching the tightness in his jaw and the furrow in his brow. he was clearly uncomfortable, but he didn't make a move to pull you away from the strangers. rather, he only stood there, sulkily contemplating.

sensing his unease, you subtly shifted closer to him, hoping to offer some reassurance. megumi glanced down at you, his gaze softening ever so slightly before returning to the strangers, "hey, you done talking?" he shot at the strangers with thinly veiled irritation.

he then sighed, a hint frustration crossing his features. without another word, he gently took your hand and pulled you away from the conversation, his grip firm but not forceful. as you walked, you stole a glance at megumi, finding his expression softened slightly, his jealousy dissipating now that you were out of the strangers' reach. “i didn’t feel it like has to be said, but,” a tint of red swelled on his face, his eyes denying your gaze. “yeah, you’re always pretty. and if you need someone to say it, just,”

“just ask me, okay?”

YUTA OKKOTSU. you responded with a timid smile, sensing yuuta's comforting presence beside you. he let out a soft chuckle, his laughter soothed the situation as you thanked the compliment. "i appreciate it.”

yuuta's casual reaction didn’t appear to dismiss the strangers, as they continue to strike up a discussion as though you’ve been friends for years. while yuuta stays a silent yet watchful presence, they kept the questions going.

after a while, yuuta's smile widened, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he glanced at his watch. "it was fun talking to you guys," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "but me and my girlfriend need to be somewhere else."

you blinked in surprise at his sudden intervention, but the strangers took it in stride and finally offering their farewells. after they walked away, you turned to yuuta, curiosity piqued by his unexpected assertiveness.

"you’re not going to say anything about it?” you commented, impressed by his ability to not get jealous or anything else in between. yuuta brushed your hair, his gaze warm with affection. "cause they weren’t wrong though. you are the cutest.”

@uzurakis — reqs are open! <3

[saduko]

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

Summary: You had driven sick many times before, but never sick enough to retire from a race. Now Lando was worried about you and how the media was going to react. But maybe this was just about the best thing that could of happened to him. Or in which, reader gets sick during the Spanish GP race and has to face the looming media presence after retiring early with a newfound anger she's never experienced. She was a mess of emotions, acting so different, or maybe it wasn't just her being strange.

Teammates, established relationship, an unexpected surprise?? Note: this unfortunately is a re-upload because my dumbass literally deleted the post the first time I posted it despite it being up for days. Yes I'm mad, and no this isn't edited because of it.

The heat of the Spanish sun beat down on the track, the asphalt shimmering with a relentless intensity that seemed to seep through the cockpit. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your focus on the race ahead, hot, fast breaths heaving through your helmet like a symphony. The familiar roar of the engine, usually a comforting sound, felt more like a distant hum as yet another wave of nausea rolled through you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d raced under less-than-ideal conditions, but today felt different. The adrenaline that usually sharpened your senses now seemed to amplify the queasiness in your stomach, every bump and turn on the track making it harder to push the discomfort aside. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising bile as you powered through another corner, the car responding to your every command despite the growing turmoil within.

The twisting and turning of the track seemed endless, each lap blurring into the next as your vision narrowed, tunnel-like, around the path ahead. You knew you needed to speak up, to let your team know something was wrong, but the words felt heavy on your tongue, weighted down by the fear of admitting weakness. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The twisting and turning of the track was making it hard for you to settle your stomach enough to find your voice, but when you had, there was a long silence on the other end. Ears alert with anticipation as nothing came through, before the thick accent of your engineer, Marlow finally sounded in with a panicked voice, "Are you feeling faint?"

"Not really.” You huffed. “I feel quite nauseous though. My stomach is not cooperating."

There was a short silence through your head piece before a shuffle was heard on the other side, followed by a concerned, "Should we retire the car?"

The suggestion shakes you and a quick puff of air leaves your mouth in order to hopefully settle the turning in your stomach, though you think it might have translated more as annoyance to your team despite the intention. You couldn't help but hope it hadn't come off too harshly, however the forceful tone of your next words certainly didn’t do much to calm the idea. "No! I'm not retiring the car... No, I'm okay."

"Please love, If you can't finish there's no shame in retiring. You're not letting anyone down, we understand-!" He knew how stubborn you were and he really didn't want the question to feel like the hit to the ego he knew you would take it as, but it was hard when everyone knew this race was what was separating you from top 3 and the rest in the championship. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, quickly corroborated by the frustrated grunt you let sound through the line.

Your foot braces against the accelerator, bearing down full force as you take the straight right after corner 4 at full speed, you weren't retiring. Subjective to your own harsh perception of yourself, retiring - no matter the circumstance - was one of the most culpable failures you could commit. It was never a rewarding feeling, and whether or not to retire from a race like this was an indisputable no. Six years into the sport and you had never retired from a race on your own accord. Today would not be the first.

"I'm okay for now."

There was no arguing with a driver going over 300 kilometers an hour, and so the team let your decision chart as they sat back and kept on with their roles, no different than before. Except for one thing, noting the conversation, they all made undisclosed motions to keep an extra close eye on the driver cam.

And so the race continued as 10 laps went by, 10 very shaky laps with countless immoderate wobbles, a few oversteers around a couple corners and a very close call with Carlos who made quick work of letting the communal radio know how exactly he felt about that, words that were quickly relayed to you. Though his accent was warm, his words were anything but kind and usually you would have taken it on the chin, laughed at his profanities and apologized with a quick witty comment to follow, but your team watched as you only let out a harrowing breath and shook your head. You obviously were not on your A-game and your entire team could see that.

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the silence in their headphones was abruptly interrupted with the blaring sound of your wheels against the track, followed by your voice, quick yet strained, echoing through the radio.

"I think I'm gonna be sick, guys."

With not a moment to spare, Marlows eyebrows furrowed down at your words, worry clear in his voice as he pressed down on the radio button. And though his words were mostly phrased as a question emphasizing the choice as your own, it was still hard to miss the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke loudly into the headpiece, "Are we retiring? It’s your call, love."

Your end of the radio was silent as the words rang through your headset, though not for lack of connection as the sound of your wheels barrelling against the tar never ceased. They knew you were still there, just not vocalizing your thoughts. They had no doubt this was a tough decision. A huge part of this sport was pride; pride in your team, pride in your car, pride in your abilities. And being the only woman on the grid meant your pride was strong and the backlash was inevitably more harsh when things went wrong. 

It was already hard enough for a driver to admit they needed to back out of a race, let alone for a driver who had something to prove and everything to lose. It was a decision they knew you were avoiding complying with. You had been complaining about feeling ill for days leading up to the race and yet insisted on racing regardless. They knew this was important to you, and to back out now, after making it so far already? Your heart was strong, and your head stronger. But for this one time, it seems your stomach was the strongest, and your nausea was taking the reins of this particular race. And so you bit your lip, hoping to keep the bile from rising for just a little while longer. “I need to stop. I’m retiring the car. I can't help it.”

As disappointing as ending a race early was, your team couldn’t deny the shred of relief that washed over them as you, for once, chose your health first. As fun as racing was, and as rewarding as a race in points felt, none of it was ever worth the increased risk to your safety. They would much rather you all woozy up in the medic bay with a DNF, than halfway to unconsciousness with a p8 finish. This certainly wasn’t your best race anyways, probably one the lowest you’d been in points this season. 

As you began your way around your last lap towards the pit lane, your mind raced with all the dreadful thoughts a DNF brought, the pit in your stomach rearing into a sizeable hole which would of left you feeling melancholy if the twisting and turning hadn’t trumped the discontent. 

As each second passed, you could feel whatever it was you had eaten for lunch earlier with Lando rising higher and higher. High enough in fact, that you found it necessary to press the radio button once more with a request. “Have a bag ready for me when I pull up, please.”

To which a compliant, “Copy.” sounded suit.

It wasn’t too much longer until your orange car could be seen sweeping down the pit lane, no hesitation in your steering as you made a harsh turn into your spot by the garage door. The pit team were prepared to make haste in their actions, ready to prop your car onto the jack in order to wheel it into the garage only to be stopped when two quick hands extended up as you braced yourself up against the halo and pulled yourself out of the seat.

At this point, you were hyper aware of the all the people surrounding you, as well as the multitude of cameras pointing directly at you, recording your every move for all the judgeful eyes to see, and yet you found not a single cell in yourself which cared as you leaned over the car and called out for your assistant, who quickly met you with a large black bin in tow. 

You quickly grabbed for it, pulling your front over the side of the car as far as you could in order to hide yourself from the view of the cameras. And out it came, a slurry of lunch which you had been so looking forward to at the time, and quickly regretting now as it all escaped your stomach.

What in the world had you feeling so ill in the first place? It felt like it had been lightyears since you had felt sick enough to actually puke, and god did you not miss this feeling. Had you eaten something bad earlier in the day? Maybe. But everything you ate Lando had eaten too, so wouldn’t he be sick as well? Well, it’s not really like you could ask him, you thought as you looked up just in time to see him overtake George on the big screen. He looks a little busy. And you should be busy too.

The thought seared through your mind as you spat into the bin, you should be racing too, but at least you feel a little better now that it’s come out; though not completely. Your stomach still churned a little and now your throat burned but you guessed it was better than crashing. You had already nearly done that just by being on the track a little too long and now you were definitely going to receive an earful from Sainz when he finally crossed the checkered flag and found you inevitably moping. 

However, you quickly realized that Carlos was actually the least of your worries and the only person you really had to fear was Lando, for when he heard about the outcome of your race, you were sure to face the lecture of your life. He had been warning you for days leading up to it not to participate. You were obviously unwell and he was aware of the dangers an unwell driver faced under the taxing conditions of a race but you were stubborn, insisting you would be fine. Look at you now. Head in a bin with cameras all around and a bruised ego. 

There was only a little time now until the race ended to recover before everyone came pummeling at you with questions. 

The wheel was starting to feel heavy in his hands and the rubbing of the HANS device against his neck was really starting to hurt. They were approaching the end stretch of the race and as the last 15 laps commenced, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little relieved knowing this would be over soon. This was undoubtedly a tough race. 

From lights out till now, he’d managed to pull from P5 to P4 and had every intention of passing Lewis for a podium position, soon enough he’d be in DRS range but for the time being, he was focused on catching up. The world around him had become mute, he hadn’t even looked up at the grand screen once, all he knew was the car.

So he had almost jumped in his seat when the chime sounded. Just as he began slowing around the final corner leading up to the line for his next lap, the sound of an incoming radio signal had his ears perking in anticipation. Were they planning on pitting him again? Sure he was definitely pushing a little too hard against his tires- not really doing his best at conserving them but he was so close to a podium position and he just needed a little bit more force-

“Lando mate,” Will’s voice sounded through his ears, his tone a little hesitant which left Lando biting his lip with anticipation. Please don't box. “I’ve just been informed by Marlow that y/n has retired.”

Lando's heart nearly fell into his stomach as the words registered in his brain. You retired?! Now thinking about it, you did start only a single position behind him and he hadn’t really seen all that much of you during the race. What happened? “Did she crash?!”

“No Lando, she's okay, it was voluntary. She wasn’t feeling well, I don’t think.” 

“You don’t think?”

“She’s okay Lando, just under the weather.”

Not feeling well? Under the weather? You’d raced a multitude of times before whilst under the weather. Each time he’d advise you not to race, and each time you’d ignore him, swearing up and down you’d be fine- and to Lando’s consolation each time you were fine. You’d come out the other side with a smile, no qualms or grievances and you would save your complaints for him afterwards, when no one else was around to judge. As you had done before, he expected the same this time. You’d never let a little ailment set you back, especially not let it affect you enough to retire. Not unless it really was bad.

Lando’s thoughts were soon interrupted by Will’s voice once more, his tone dismissive, implying the conversation had reached its end and no more discussion would be had about it. “We will contact you again if anything happens.”

And despite Lando’s dismay, he complies. There were still a good 15 laps left of the race ahead and he had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of competitive driving to be had. His focus couldn’t be elsewhere, but what was he supposed to do knowing his sick fiancé has just pulled herself out of a race? What was he supposed to do when he knew you well enough to understand how prideful you could be, and how poor you had to feel to choose to retire?  

He really tries to not let it bother him. During the next lap, he tries to not let it bother him as he forces himself to look anywhere else but the jumbo screen in hopes of a possible update on your condition. He tries to not let it bother him in the lap after that as the team radios in to discuss possible strategies regarding the oncoming overtake he will perform, and he tries to not let it bother him during the lap after that one when he finally passes Lewis. Now 3 laps have passed but he just can't get the questions about you off his mind. It is bothering him. He shouldn’t be distracted, especially while he’s in a podium position but he can’t help it. 

So as he crosses onto the next straight, he finds himself radioing in with the question that had been eating away at him since the news broke. “Uh.. Any updates on y/n? Is she alright?”

There's a considerable moment of silence on Mclaren’s end of the line, the team were honestly tied on what to tell the man and what not to. You weren’t exactly in optimal condition, and word around was slightly worrisome regarding your state. You were okay, but definitely not well, they knew because they had caught the treacherous sounds of your gags a few more times since the first echoing through the mclaren garage. 

As your fiance, he deserved to know these details, but as a driver, they knew it wasn’t smart to worry him. What were they to say as to not stress him out in an already extremely stressful situation? They could tell him a few of your team members were discussing taking you to the hospital. Or they could keep him from driving the car through the wall in order to meet you there. The decision was clear, they needed him to focus on driving. “She’s okay, she's currently being looked at by the medical team.”

“She has the medical team on her?!” Will’s eyes shut hard as Lando’s reply came through. Definitely not the right choice of words.

“Just a precaution Lando, she isn’t well at the moment.”

Lando’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as he ponders his engineer's words. He finds himself over analyzing every syllable, every infliction with intentions of unpacking whatever truth was seeping between the lines, and he notices that he’s biting his cheek as he rounds the 8th corner with a little less precision than usual. “Is she bad?”

Landos team take quick note of this change in pace, latching onto the clear oversteer he performs around the corner. They quickly find themselves trying to pull away from the topic in order to keep him both figuratively and literally on track and so Will concludes the conversation with a stern tone. “Please Lando, you can see her when you're done racing. We need you to focus on the race.”

He almost wanted to curse the man out purely due to frustration despite knowing deep down that he was right. But what else was he supposed to do when he knows his fiancé is sitting in the medic bay and all he can do to support her is… well, nothing. He just has to finish this race.

Despite your protests, your team was adamant on a visit to the med bay in order to possibly come up with a reason for your sudden onset of race ending symptoms, and after a quick trip down the hall that took a little longer than usual due to your need to stop once more, you were simply told there wasn’t much they could do long term to crack the bilous case. Shocker. They did however hand you something to ease the nausea which you were beyond thankful for.

You had spent so long counting down the seconds until the anti-nausea medication kicked in that you hadn't even noticed that the race had ended, nor did you notice the approaching sound of hasteful footsteps until the door to your driver's room came barrelling open with a thud.

“I told you not to race.” Lando’s voice was so stern it had you stiff. There was a slight indication of anger lingering behind his words but ultimately his face was a dead giveaway to the worried intention etched behind his tone. 

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“You threw up?” His eyebrows came down as he said it, and you noticed it was less of a question and more as if he was trying to confirm a suspicion. Someone from your team must have snitched on you already. No damn loyalties.

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

“You stink.” He deadpanned and you found yourself scoffing, slightly exasperated at the bluntness of his words. The statement had you petty with offense. 

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

Finally you let out a sigh, already tired of the back and forth over something so menial, and unworthy of an argument. You were sick. Shit happens. “Lando, I wasn’t feeling well and I’d been feeling it all week with no real problem so I didn’t think there would be a reason to sit this race out. I didn’t think I would actually need to pull over. It’s done now.”

There was a loud silence between the two of you as he onced over your body with intentful eyes. You seemed okay enough and he guessed this really wasn’t the time or place to start an argument, especially over something as stupid as him being worried about you, you were on the same damn side. So instead he just sighed, bit his lip and nodded at you. “Alright.”

“Guys.” Charlotte suddenly peaked her head through the cracked door to glance at you both. “Come on, we need you at Media now.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, that you knew. The media had given you a hard time for things way less than this so you could only imagine what they had in store for you after throwing up on live TV for half the world to see moments after a voluntary DNF. It just about felt like you were being led to your execution with the way you knew they were about to tear into you. But there was no avoiding this, and the grimaced look etched into your features left Lando very aware of this fact.

“I know you don’t wanna do this but you have to go out there, you’ve got no choice. Not unless you’re willing to cop a fat fine.”

You stuck an eyebrow up at Landos voice, the sides of your lips extending out as you conceptualized his words but your expression quickly had him shaking his head alongside a hearty laugh. “No, no. Don’t even look like you’re considering it.”

Your laugh to match his own soon sounded throughout the room, and his hand swiftly found its place at the nape of your neck, to which he gave a quick squeeze and began leading you out the door into the McLaren garage hallway. “We have a wedding to plan and that means a lot of money to spend. You will not be wasting money trying to get out of media duties.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at how exasperated and sarcastic he sounded.

You both found yourselves trailing along Charlotte's path until the hallway quickly opened up into a large room where a few other drivers had already begun their own separate interviews towards the camera crews which littered every corner. The media pen; may as well be your death site.

Whilst waiting for the race to end; and for the nausea to subside, Charlotte had given you a rundown - more like a lecture; regarding what to expect and how to approach the inevitably condescending questions that would soon be thrown your way. 

This was going to be brutal, you knew that. You had finally made a mistake that the male media could exploit to reinforce their stereotypes about damned women in motorsports. Just another day facing the misogyny of the position, except this time, it was your own carelessness that put you in this position. The only damned thing you’d be was a damned liar if you said the upcoming articles tearing into you weren’t already gnawing at your mind. You could just picture it;

‘’Mclaren Princess’ Just Might Throw Her Way Up and Out of Competitive Driving,’

‘Speed Queen’s Weak Stomach Shows Why She’s Better Suited for Other Races,’

‘Too Glamorous For The F1 Track? or Maybe Not Glamorous Enough; - maybe we should leave the fast cars to the men that made them.’ 

This might just be worse than the ‘Revving Engines, not Emotions,’ article from last year when you teared up in Australia after what was the most frustrating race of your career. This was going to be horrible. 

Your actions were always hyper-criticized, but maybe just once you were being too imaginative for your own good. You needed to calm down because words tended to stick with you. A fact that Charlotte knew all too well, because she was sure to speak words she knew would ring through your ears during those interviews; Take it on the chin, stay composed and certainly don't be snappy. One of those was doable.

The moment you passed the threshold beyond the doorway, officially crossing into the media pen, it's as if every set of eyes and every lens of a camera had turned to watch you move. The room hadn’t by any means gone quiet, but there was definitely a shift in volume as the noise settled from a near unbearable buzz to a tolerable chatter, just enough to notice the change. The influx of attention almost had you doubling over once again, especially when you felt the nausea begin to slowly creep up for the second time that day. But you made notable efforts to keep your head high, hoping that a strong demeanor would at least soften the blow which would soon be dealt.

Lando’s arm had split from your neck not long after entering the room. You guys were always light on your PDA, trying to keep as much of your personal relationship as private as possible; as private as an already public relationship could possibly be. But he still managed to give you a small, reassuring squeeze on the hip before you both set off, being led in opposite directions.

A flurry of reporter eyes seemed to trail your path as your personal PR manager led you to a spot right in between Carlos and Charles, and as you started setting yourself up, you unavoidably overheard their journalists trying to wrap up their interviews, which you could only imagine would be to get a shot at you faster. 

However unluckily for those journalists, it seems your first adversary had already taken the stand just directly across from you with a large, heavy mic and aged, gleaming eyes; eyes that had your own widening in alarm. You were quite familiar with this journalist, very familiar with him actually as he had always been quick to criticize you and your skills on many occasions in the past. He was quite ill-mannered towards you, definitely holding a target out with a gun aimed directly for your career, making it clear he was disapproving of your presence as a woman on this grid. You just knew he had been waiting for you. This was going to be hell.

The journalist quickly began setting himself up, the cameraman behind him pointing the lens directly at your sour face, which you admittedly were not doing a great job at masking. Though, if your interviewer had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t commented on it. However that didn’t stop him from wasting any time beginning to comment on the other mistakes you had made today.

“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Speed Queen.” His gravelly voice spat. “Though I think ‘Pit Princess’ may be a little more fitting after today's race.” A sly smirk quickly spread across his mouth, an act that had your hands bracing against the railing separating the two of you from one another. Charles had quickly taken notice of this from his position just beside you. He admittedly felt he was doing quite well at remaining professional and ignoring the exchange between you and the infamous journalist, but now he was on high alert, ears perked in your direction with the intention of intervening at any given moment.

Despite your peeved sentiment, you did well at keeping your face straight and head high at the insult, feeling it necessary to not crack in front of the person trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t prove his point. 

“I appreciate the creativity, but I think I would prefer to focus on the race itself rather than nicknames. I’m quite happy with the one I have.” There was a moment in which he tried to intervene, however you were determined to move past the subject. “-And, you know, today’s challenges were significant, but that’s a part of the sport, I guess.” Despite the lingering nausea, you still managed to force a professional smile.

“Is it?” He curled an eyebrow condescendingly, a look which nearly had a scowl slipping past your placid facade. But instead you held strong, that sickeningly sweet smile dripping like honey with disdain. “Part of the sport is the unpredictability of it. So I’d say so.”

The man's eyes gleamed on, a small hum escaping his lips as he nodded absently. “It’s just that no other driver seems to have this issue. Do you think maybe your choice to retire has to do with particular limitations a female might have that the men in this sport don’t?”

And as expected, the indirectness wasn’t so indirect anymore, the true misogynistic intentions of his words slowly crept out with ferocity. 

“No.” Your tone was final, like it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, because it really hadn’t. “No I really don’t. Many men before me have gotten sick during races, I guess I just preferred to voluntarily take myself out of the race than spend the rest of it wiping pesto off my visor.” You snarled. 

A small tap against your arm quickly alerted you to the contention of your PR manager, a disapproving gesture silently advising you to reel it in. But god was it hard when his face was so smug. She should understand that being passive aggressive was much more admissible than being violent, so she may as well let you get your anger out in the socially acceptable way, though you admit it was strange of you to feel so angry. You were usually better at keeping your emotions in check. Hm. But alas, you complied, correcting your face and letting him speak; even if you wanted so badly to interrupt him with your thoughts of how horrible a journalist he was. 

“Well, I think a lot of people agree when I say that this sport tends to reward determination and resilience, not quitting.”

Were you hearing this correctly? Was he really implying that you should have thrown up right into your helmet and just continued through the race like nothing? It was getting really hard to remain socially acceptable. What was this new found anger? “Racing may sometimes reward resilience, however, being sharp minded is more important sometimes. I noticed I was unwell enough for it to affect my performance, so I decided it was smarter to take myself out of the race. Especially after nearly taking Carlos out of the race too.” 

Just as you finished answering the (absurd) question, a suave laugh sounded to your left as Carlos suddenly stepped up beside you, sliding his arm across your shoulder. “I did have some choice words prepared for you earlier Mija, but then I learnt what happened and now I forgive you.” His eyes suddenly turned to the journalist, a glint of exaggerated pity in relation to the topic seeping into his expression, almost as if he was speaking with experience to someone who wouldn’t understand; because he was. “Driving whilst sick is not for the weak.”

The journalist's cold eyes squinted slightly as Carlos’ condescending tone registered in his head, yet he kept his expression neutral and mic high as he nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.” And nothing was said after that. No rebuttal, no argumentative comment, just a plea of agreement. God, how you wished interviews were that easy for you.

A few voices echoing out from somewhere behind had caught the attention of the trio, and it didn’t take long for you to realize it was Carlos’ team instructing him to move onwards to his next position. So with a reassuring smile towards you and a quick quirk of a brow towards the reporter, he was off to his next interview without another word, taking your fleeting moment of security along with him as he left.

Now it was just you and the reporter once more, and you could tell he wasn’t feeling as cordial with you as he was with Carlos, evident by the slight snarl that had crept onto his face by the interruption in your defense. “Friendly words from Sainz there, as always.” he began, his tone dripping with insincerity, “Do you find it degrading that other drivers always have to come to your defense in order to keep your positive reputation, because there are a lot of people that believe you perhaps, ride off the success of others.” 

Your stomach twisted, and if it was from the nausea growing once again or from the sheer audacity of his words, you couldn’t tell. He was essentially implying that the only reason people liked you was because other likable people vouched for you, and not because of your own hard work and valiant achievements. It seems he wanted defense, you were about to show him just how defensive you could be. 

“With all due respect,” you began, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “I don’t defend myself because I don’t have to, because the genuinity of my character extends far past my words.” you paused, thinking about your next words carefully. “My peers defend me because I’ve proven my capabilities time and time again, and they know that one incident doesn’t define my career. However, I don’t think you share the same sentiment, hm?” 

The taunting in your voice was quickly caught on by your PR manager who swiftly grabbed your arm in yet another warning, except this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as much. The journalist's eyes narrowed at your words, clearly not expecting such a discourteous response and the tugging of your PR manager's grip against your arm was an obvious nonverbal message to wrap it up but you weren't finished, oh no. That new found anger that had been gnawing at you all race was just beginning to trickle out.

“‘Riding off the success of others.’” Your quoted, voice riddled with humor, “And yet you somehow manage to find me every post race interview. Do you write these question’s down in your little notebook while you watch my multi-race winning car fly past you? Or do you wipe the dust from the camera lens instead?”

He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, your PR manager intervened, her grip on your arm tightening slightly as she stepped forward. “This interview is over,” she announced firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “McLaren will be utalizing the next few days to help Y/n recover for next week's race. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to our media office.”

Your eyes widened in shock at the intervention. You had overstepped your media training a few times before and yet none had ever led to the end of the interview. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at your PR manager's swift movements as she tugged you back and away from the journalist. “Let’s move on.” Her voice was disapproving but she was obviously trying to remain calm and professional, understanding there was a job to be done. But your anger wasn’t discriminatory, everyone was a potential outlet, and you weren’t having this. “No, I’m finished.” You didn’t even want to participate in media in the first place, this was obligatory. You had done your part and now you were taking charge of the rest of your night. And so you pulled your arm back and made quick haste towards the exit, leading back to your driver room. 

You were only a few meters from the door now, acutely aware of all the eyes watching you retire early from yet another obligation today, when a hand grazing the small of your back pulled you away from the tormenting feeling of the bile rising once again. This time, it was Charles, his sweet face beaming a reassuring smile at you as he began walking in stride towards the exit alongside you. “Mon cheri, that was something else.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, nausea bubbling once again, expecting yet another lecture from someone else. “If by ‘something else’ you mean a complete disaster, then yeah, I guess.”

Charles kept his tone steady, a touch of amusement in his voice as you both walked in stride. “No, I mean you handled it with a lot of, uhh.. What is the English? Poise.” 

You gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks, but it didn’t feel like handling things with poise, It felt like I was about to lose it.” 

His smile slipped into a small laugh before it fell,  and his bright eyes quickly turned into one’s of worry as he began a once over of your body. “Are you feeling okay?” he began the inevitable conversation. “I’m okay, it’ll pass I'm sure.”

Charles’ brows furrowed down, thick accent sounding with worry as he spoke. “You shouldn’t count on it passing, you should take care of yourself. You’re only gonna have more shit thrown at you if you don’t-”

As sweet as his concern was, you were tired of this conversation today, it was becoming tedious to hear and you really just needed to lie down or something. “-Charles, I really appreciate it and I'll be sure to visit the doctor tomorrow, but I think I’m gonna be sick again, so how about you cover me up to the hallway before I end up in another fight with a reporter, or my head in another bin on TV.”

Your words had Charles’s eyes widening, quickly glancing around from side to side in search of his target who was finishing up from an interview of his own, when your hand came up to press against your mouth, skin turning a tinge green. “Lando!”

The video shook a little as the person on the other end fidgeted with the camera, a slight blur shifting the image and the audio cracking with the movement before the frame finally straightened up. The person took a step back. It was you, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the video had been uploaded onto your own instagram, but it was the first anyone had really heard of you in weeks. 

Ever since your race ending ailment back in Spain, you had essentially gone radio silent. Not posting, not participating in interviews; you had missed 2 more races since then. It was worrisome, especially considering you had assured everyone the day after Spain that you were working on getting better for next week's race, which you never showed up to. 

The races went on and the fans asked about you, the interviewers asked about you too, but it seemed everyone involved in the FIA had no comment on your whereabouts nor your condition. The drivers dodged post interview questions, excelling on to new subjects and only had quick fleeting comments in response to concerned fans around the paddock who were only trying to make sense of it all.

Lando copped the brunt end of it though, scoring a P2 podium in Canada that everyone could more obviously care less about in his post-race interviews. The only topic mentioned was you, your absence from the race and why everyone was so hush-hush about it in the first place. The interviews were so off topic that this time it was Lando who had to leave the media pen early to avoid the questions, though opposingly, McLaren had been the ones to encourage his swift exit.

It was starting to become an issue. People were fretful. Were you still sick? Was it something more serious than you had anticipated and now you couldn’t race anymore?

The view they were looking at suggested that perhaps they were about to find out. 

You retreated away from the camera propped up against what people could only speculate had to be your dressing table, as you found your spot upon the large, luxurious bed the camera was pointing towards. Now cross legged upon it, your body clad in a 2 piece short silky pajama set, finally you began to speak. 

“Hello everyone.” You didn’t sound unwell, not stressed or upset. In fact, there was an edge to your voice that almost seemed cheerful; excited. And yet for now you remained composed, nothing but a small, media trained smile dawning your otherwise expressionless face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence was humorous, calling attention to the silence you had afflicted, and the lack of news upon your whereabouts. “Lando and I are finally home in Monaco for summer break, though I have to admit that I’ve actually been in Monaco for a few weeks now. I think some of you might feel that was a bit obvious given my absence.”

There was a high pitched chuckle off screen, it obviously being Lando out of frame as your eyes flickered over to the side with a playful yet mischievous smile, encouraging his reaction with your expression. It was a fleeting moment as your smile once again fell into something a little more vacant before straightening up and continuing. “I know a lot of people have questions, and I do want to apologize for the lack of communication on my end, I’ll explain, I promise but first I also want to say please don’t be mad at any of the other drivers for not speaking out, they were all just respecting my wishes in not saying anything until I was ready.”

There was a small pause as you took a breath, no sound emitting except for the slight breeze wafting through the room, further exemplified by the sway of the sheer curtains. This was so nerve racking, were you about to announce your departure from motorsport? Were you about to reveal a sickness you weren't aware of until now? The silence, though short lived, was deafening. 

“I-” Finally you spoke, but quickly caught it with a bite to your lower lip. It really seemed like you were processing your words, debating how to present your next statement carefully enough. “How do I-?”

Once again your gaze drifted off to the side of the screen, confused and cautious eyes quickly averting into a bright smile before a laugh escaped your mouth. “Don’t look so excited!” 

Lando, obviously beaming, clear by the tone of his voice, cheerfully yelled back, “Do you want me to say it?!”

“No!” you rebutted quickly with a laugh, “I told you I wanted to be the one to announce it, stop trying to take my shine!”

“Then go on with it!” He was so obviously really excited, impatient to finally announce whatever it was that had him so elevated.

“Okay well-” You stuttered for a moment, quickly catching yourself before continuing. “As many of you saw in Spain, I wasn’t feeling too well,-”

“-Hard to miss-.” Landos voice mumbled, a comment in which you swiftly ignored.  

“-And I hadn’t been for a few days leading up to it but I just took it as a stomach bug and planned to go on with it like usual. What I didn’t plan for however, was the doctor's visit I was forced to go to the day after.”

Your eyes glared off to the side once again, feigning annoyance but evidently not actually upset before looking back at the camera with a smile. “The good news is that we are very much aware of what was making me sick.” Your voice was reassuring, eyes slowly beginning to light up as you continued on. “The bad news is that I unfortunately will not be participating in the rest of the 2024 season, or the 2025 one for that matter.”

It was like you could feel the impending shock of everyone watching radiating through the screen despite it being pre recorded because your pause was almost comically dramatic. And yet it was so wholly conflicting, because regardless of the awful news, you didn’t really seem all that upset despite being such a passionate racer, it felt so out of character. This confusion was only exemplified further when your eyes once again drifted to the left, a large smile engulfing your features as you took notice of what had to be Lando's excited expression once more. “Oh don’t look so happy, you’re the one who still gets to race!”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed that high pitched laugh he does when he just can’t hold it back.

Your eyes flickered back to the camera, sitting straight on with a patient yet humorous smile, a single eyebrow cocked as you waited for Landos laughter to simmer. It took a moment, a moment you thought ended a time or two before he began again, but eventually the room became still again as your face grew just a little more in adoration towards the man everyone could see you loved dearly. It was like the energy had shifted just a little, from what felt so playful before, to something a little more familial and warm. 

“I think some of you may have put the pieces together, but for those who haven’t. Well… I’m pregnant!” Your smile was so big and sheepish, so conscious and just a little shy, it almost felt as if you were announcing it to a friend of many years and it was all just so heartwarming. You were okay! More than that, you were happy, and soon everyone else who would watch this video would be too. Lando's happy laugh from beyond the camera at the announcement finally being made was more than enough to express just how joyous the news was for the two of you.

“As heartbreaking as it will be to not be able to competitively race in the upcoming seasons, I’m not actually that sad about having to step down for a little.” You laughed heartily. “I proudly announce that in my place, the very talented Australian driver Oscar Piastri will be filling my position until I'm off from… maternity leave? I guess. That's a first for this sport.”  You laughed.  “But of course they just had to find the best to replace the best.” You quickly glanced over towards Lando out of frame, clearly expecting an agreement that never came. They could only imagine the disapproving look Lando was sending you.

Your expression never changed, but your tone dropped as you spoke darkly. “I’m carrying your child.” You spat, to which a loud “But of course!” sounded in response, followed by a laugh from the both of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be seeing me around the track a lot considering this muppet,” you pointed to your left, “still gets to race.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the soft voice came from off screen. 

“No, I’ll confidently admit it, I’m so jealous.” You pouted, but the warmth in your eyes belied the playful tone in your voice.

Lando’s hand appeared in the frame for a brief moment, gently squeezing your shoulder before disappearing off-camera again. “We’ll be back out there together soon enough.”

You nodded, your smile returning as you glanced back at the camera, feeling a surge of excitement for what was to come. “In the meantime, I’m looking forward to supporting the team from a different angle. It’s going to be a new experience, but I’m excited to do this as…”

“-As a mother?” Lando finished with a knowing smirk.

“As a mother.” You laughed, a loud one from Lando soon sounded to match your own, one so joyous it left you beaming. Suddenly, Lando jolted in frame, clearly excited as he leaned over the bed to tackle you from your sitting position down into a hug, leaving you both falling back onto the sheets. “Oh my god Lando!” You shout, a hand quickly moving to shield your lower stomach. “God! Nevermind guys, I think Lando just tackled the baby out of me, guess I’ll be seeing you all from my McLaren in Austria.”

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!” 

[f1fantasys]

Only Mine

Summary - Lando giving you a necklace with his number. Find Charles' version here

Warnings - explicit smut, blowjob, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, swearing.

'Baby?'' Lando called out to you while you were finishing off your makeup in the bathroom.

''Yeah Lan?'' you replied, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. He was standing in front of the floor length mirror in your bedroom.

You rest your chin on his shoulder and looked at him through the mirror. ''Missed you'' you whispered.

You really did miss him. He'd just gotten back from the Chinese and Japanese races which you couldn't go to because of work, so 3 weeks away from each other had you both on edge.

''And i missed you too, which is why i got you a gift'' he said, taking your hands in his and walking to you sit on the bed.

''Oooh i like gifts!'' you excitedly joked.

''Trust me baby, I know'' he smirked.

He opened his drawer and pulled out a long box before sitting next to you and handing it to you.

Intrigued, you took it from him but not before pecking his nose.

You carefully opened it to reveal a gorgeous, dainty gold necklace, but what caught you eye was the pendant in the middle.

It was the word ''four'' etched out with tiny diamonds covering it.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at Lando, your heart fluttering.

He smiled at you. ''Just want you to always remember you're mine, only fucking mine''

''Lan, it's so beautiful, thank you'' you said, launching yourself at him for a tight hug.

He hugged you back before you pulled away and looked at it again. It really was beautiful, but then something else caught your eye.

The word was cut out in handwriting that you knew all too well - it was Landos'.

''Baby, this is your writing. How did you do this?''

''Yes it is, but that's a story for another day. I hope you like it'' he cooed.

''I do, going to wear it everyday. And i love you''

''Love you too sweets''

Lando pulled you in for a kiss which started slow and gentle but very quickly turned sloppy and desperate.

You granted him access as he slid his tongue into your mouth, causing you to suck it for a while as his hands roamed your body.

He pulled you onto his lap and started groping your ass, while you tried to grind down on him.

But you had to stop this from going any further - you had a dinner with friends to get to, and you didn't wanna just have a quick fuck.

''Lando wait. Later. Dinner. Friends'' you mumbled.

''Fuck them'' he said, showing no intentions of slowing down.

''Hmm, I'd rather you fuck me, but later. Come on'' you said, detaching yourself from him and standing up, though your core was screaming in anger, clenching around nothing.

Lando groaned. ''Ugh y/n''

The dinner started off well. You were celebrating a friends' birthday so their was a large group of you. Of course, Lando's hand found homage on your thigh for the whole night, itching closer to where you craved him the most.

You tried to distract yourself by following conversations that were going around the table, which was working until Lando decided to let his fingers slip past your panties and run through your folds.

The action had you jumping in your seat, a flurry of confused eyes looking at you, until he said he kicked you by accident.

Fortunately for you, or unfortunately for Lando, it was soon time to leave and head to the club for a few drinks.

You tried to make up an excuse to go home, but your friends weren't buying it, so here you were being forced to down a few drinks and dance the night away.

You actually were both having fun - you with the girls and Lando with the guys, gossiping and talking shit, dancing crazy to the music on at Jimmy'z, until you went to the bar to get another drink.

A guy - who was at the dinner as well, a friend of a friend, stood beside you and tried to make conversation. He had being giving you weird glances all night, smirking at only you, which you tried to brush off. Right now, you wasted no time in making it obvious that you didn't want to interact with him.

He wasn't budging though, and he was inching closer to you in the limited space. You tried to search the crowd for your boyfriend- or anyone else for that matter but everyone was caught up doing their own thing that no one saw your eyes begging for help.

He looked at your neck and obviously saw your necklace, and putting on a fake, sarcastic laugh.

''Lando Norris huh? Really?''

You looked at him, your eyes throwing daggers at him. ''What's that supposed to mean?'' you asked.

''Well, for starters, he's such a fucking useless driver. Bet i can do better than him and win a race. And baby you can surely do better than a man like him''

You hated when people down talked Lando like this. He was one of the best fucking in drivers in the world and 2 bad races do not define him. And what the fuck does he mean you can do better than someone like Lando?

You took you necklace in your hand and squeezed it tight, somehow trying to draw power from it to tell this guy to fuck off. But he started talking again.

''Bet he doesn't even know how to fuck you properly, bet you can't even make you cum. Let me show you how a night of passion should be' he rambled on.

By now you were seeing red.

''Seriously you need to fucking stop talking right now. I don't owe you anything but I will tell you that you are wrong. Lando is the most talented fucking driver on that grid, and for your information, he fucks me better than you could ever fuck yourself''

Just as you finished saying that Lando appeared by your side. His face laced with confusion as he took your one hand in his and then noticed how you were clinging into the necklace.

''Y/n'' he said. ''What's going on?'' he said, looking at the guy now, throwing his own daggers at him because you wouldn't be pissed off for no reason.

''Oh nothing, just a low life who thinks he knows shit, trying to interfere with our lives, but really just needs to fuck off'' you spat.

''Oh please, what are you guys? 12 years old that you have to wear a piece of jewelry to show off?'' the guy spat back.

Now it was Lando's turn to see red.

''Listen, this is the exact reason she's wearing it. To show losers like you that she's mine, and not yours. So fuck off before I do something you'll regret'' Lando shouted over the music.

You won't lie - hearing him claim you as his and saying he got you that necklace so everyone knew that your only his had turned you on more than it should have.

You squeezed his hand, not bothering to pay any attention to the guy again.

''Lan, take me home please'' you said, rubbing your lips together.

His anger faded when he looked at you and smiled. ''Gladly'' he said, before throwing one last dagger at that stupid man.

You rushed out of the club hand in hand. Lando never let go while waiting for the valet to bring his car over.

The ride home was palpable with tension. Neither of you saying a word but stealing glances at each other ever so often.

Thinking you were being discreet, you started rubbing your thighs together - trying to get some relief to your aching core.

He didn't miss that action though. He settled his hand on your thigh again and squeezed it.

''Wait til we're home baby. I''ll take care of you'' he whispered.

As Lando parked and stopped the engine, he made way to open his door though you stopped him.

Unbuckling your belt you got onto your knees on your seat as best you could in the small car and leaned over. You quickly unbuttoned his shirt before leaning forward and taking one of his nipples into your mouth.

He hissed at the contact. ''Fuck y/n'' he panted as he held your hair out of your face, pulling at it, hard.

You bit and sucked at it while you hand snaked down to unbutton his jeans and slide into his boxers. He was already half hard so when you pulled his dick out it was already standing stern, begging for attention.

You continued to lick a stripe down his torso, stopping to peck his moles, as you pumped him a few times, using your thumb to spread his pre-cum over his slit.

Just as you were about to take him into your mouth Lando pulled your head up to give you a dirty kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss, goosebumps appearing on your skin at just how rough he was.

''You're only mine y/n, never forget that. And next time someone behaves like that, kick him in the balls'' he said, pulling back and looking into your eyes.

Before you could even respond, Lando was pushing you head down and his dick in your mouth, making you bop up and down his length.

You deep throated him straightaway - his tip hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag.

''Yes baby, that's it, taking me so fucking well'' he said as he continued to fuck himself into your mouth.

You moaned at him - words of encouragement always turning you on even more.

''You like that, don't you? Taking my thick girth down the back of your throat so good like that''

You moaned again and pulled up for some air.

Lando watched how your spit was dripping down your chin and he couldn't help but lick some of it off of you before pushing you down on him again.

You could his dick start to twitch in your mouth - his own movements becoming sloppy.

''Fuck me, y/n, not gonna last baby. Gonna cum now'' he grunted through gritted teeth.

And he did. Sheets of warm and salty cum shot in your mouth as he pulled harder on your hair.

You rode him through his orgasm, sucking on his tip before pulling off completely, breath heavy as you looked at him.

He cupped your face and chuckled lightly.

''What?'' you asked, curious as to what his answer would be.

''Who knew an asshole like that would lead to me earning the best head you've ever given me?'' he whispered.

''Fuck Lan, need to feel you in me now!'' you said, already climbing out of the car and running towards the front door of your penthouse.

Lando followed you and as soon as the door was shut he had you against it.

Crashing his lips to yours with an urgency while his hands ripped your dress off of you. You couldn't care less about it. All you knew was you needed to feel him everywhere.

You'd not worn a bra tonight so it was easy for Lando to bend down and latch his mouth to your nipple. Biting and sucking at it, showing it no mercy while his hand massaged your other boob.

You held onto his hair as he sank lower and lower down your torso, eventually settling at his knees.

He pryed your legs open, sliding your tiny panties down them before he attacked your pussy with his lips.

''Fuck Lando'' you panted, your back arching off the door as your pulled on his hair harder.

He wasted no time in finding your clit and kitty licking it with the tongue, while his eyes never left yours.

''Hmm yes, please'' you begged him, not sure what for.

He pulled your pussy apart with both hands, allowing his tongue to slide in with ease through your entrance, before replacing it with two fingers, thrusting in and out of you.

Your nails were now digging into his shoulders, probably leaving purple marks for tomorrow. Your way of showing everyone he was yours..

He set a quick pace, curling his fingers at just the right time for you to feel your orgasm approaching.

''Lan, gonna cum'' you said through bated breaths, and in no time you were gushing your sweet liquid all over his face, his tongue trying to lick and swallow it all while you were a moaning mess above him.

Your legs, definitely like jelly by now, started to give way but Lando quickly stood up and held you up, before jolting you up over his shoulders and walking towards your bedroom.

''So pretty my love'' he whispered, more to himself, as he dropped you on the bed.

You whined. ''You're still wearing too many clothes'' you said as you sat on your knees and helped him work off his shirt and jeans, stripping his boxers off.

His cock bounced freely, already hard and aching for more. He pumped himself a few times while looking at you watch his actions.

'''Ready baby?'' he asked, though he knew the answer already.

''Fuck me now, please'' you begged again.

Lando pushed you to lay down and placed your legs over his shoulders as he lined himself up with your dripping pussy.

''Remember babygirl, you asked for it, yeah?''

All you could do was nod embarrassingly eagerly, as he thrust his whole dick in you at one go.

Normally he'd give you time to adjust to the intrusion, but on nights like this when you were both riled up, there was no holding back.

You palmed your breast as he fucked into you at a relentless pace, both your moans filling the room, loud enough for people walking on the streets to hear.

''So fucking tight baby, taking me so well. God you feel so amazing'' he muttered through his moans before he leaned down to adorn your neck with enough hickeys to last a month.

''Lan, Lando, Harder, deeper, please'' you edged him on.

Within minutes your body was shaking and trembling below him, your orgasm washing over you violently.

''Fuck me'' he mumbled, his hands now finding your waist and ramming into you with just as much force.

You dug your nails into his biceps, begging him for to stop - or for more - you weren't sure.

Suddenly, you got an idea, so with whatever energy you had, you pushed Lando off you so that he was now laying down.

You quickly climbed on top of him and sank down again, gripping at his abs and setting a quick pace. You watched as he licked his lips and smiled to yourself as his eyes shifted from yours down to your neck.

The necklace

Shining bright and looking beautiful as every on you - this was the reaction you wanted. His eyes grew shades darker and you watched as his breath hitched and he bit down on his lower lip.

You couldn't help but let out a few moans.

''Like what you see baby?'' you asked innocently.

It was as if you tapped him out of his daydream as his eyes found yours again and gave you the biggest boyish grin you'd seen in a long time.

''You fucking know it'' he smirked, now lifting himself up to thrust into you.

You leaned forward so the necklace was now dangling right in front of his face, going crazy with the movements of both your bodies.

Lando leaned up a bit and took it into his mouth, sucking it while his eyes remained your yours above him.

That action alone shot another orgasm through your body, shuddering and closing your eyes to calm your breathing as you felt your cum sliding out of you with each thrust Lando was giving you.

''Mother of fucks this is incredible'' you say incoherently as Lando slides out of you and pushes you back down, pulling your whole body to the edge of the bed where he is now standing and lining up with you again.

He thrust in, holding your legs out the way while watching you face contort with pain and pleasure, both your breaths reaching new heights.

''How did i get so lucky. The prettiest, more intelligent girl out there and best of all the one who fucks me the best. Y/n, you're something else'' he said, clearly now chasing his own orgasm as he was becoming sloppy and could barely hold himself up.

You were too fucked out to know what was happening to be honest.

So you let him have his way with you. You did feel as his thumb found your clit and started circling it.

''Gonna cum for me again? Hmm baby? Got one more in you?'' he asked, not that you had a choice.

Words had long left your brain, so you just let out a series of moans to pleasure his ears, while the sound of your bodies slamming together pleasured yours.

You opened your eyes and saw how Lando let his spit drip from his mouth down to the place you were joined, sliding around his dick and disappearing into your cunt.

''Lan I'm done, gonna cum'' you panted, eyes shutting at how sore you actually were now.

''Do it y/n, let it out'' he said.

And just as you moaned out his name when you felt your orgasm ripping through you, you felt ropes of warm cum filling you up and painting your inner walls white, his dick twitching uncontrollably inside of you.

''Fuck me'' he said as you pulled him down to let his weight fall on you.

The both of you were so zoned out, neither making a move to get up and clean up.

You just held each other, trying to calm your breaths, shivering at the cool air now drying the sweat that was covering you.

Lando felt himself soften inside of you so he slowly slid out - you whined at the loss of contact.

''Be back now, let me clean you up'' he said, running to the bathroom.

You sat up and looked down, seeing the mixture of juices slide out of you had you scooping some up on your finger, just as Lando returned with a warm towel.

Just as you were about to put your digit into your mouth, he moved quickly to lean down and take your finger into his mouth instead.

''Uh, Lan!'' you whined, watching as he sucked on your finger.

He swallowed and smirked at you.

''Sorry baby, it just looked so fucking hot''

You pouted at him but watched as he leaned down further and licked more that was dripping out of you before leaning up and prying your mouth open to drip it into.

''There'' he said, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

After cleaning up and climbing into bed together - you wearing nothing but some lacy panties and a certain piece of jewelry - Lando pulled you into his side and held you close, pecking your nose.

''I love you baby'' he whispered.

''Love you too handsome'' you replied back, you fingers playing with the necklace.

''Thank you again for this Lan. I love it, and it will always tell me - and others - that I'm yours and only yours'' you said.

''Only mine, babygirl''

Requests are open for Lando and Charles!!

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham Headcanons (Poly!Romantic)

❝ 🍽 — lady l: I finally managed to post this!! I really liked the result and I hope you like it :) forgive me for any mistakes and good reading. 💙🤎

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, manipulation, kidnapping, death and mention of suicide and violence, toxic relationships.

❝🔪pairing: yandere!hannibal lecter x gender neutral!reader x yandere!will graham.

The idea of ​​someone else coming into their relationship wasn't something they planned or thought about. They were still getting used to the new dynamics of their relationship, so actually adding a third person wasn't in the cards. But when Hannibal and Will met you, that thought took root in their minds.

You were like a breath of fresh air to them. Something new, exciting, and something they could keep to themselves, as a new addition to their new lives. And they were eager to make you fit into your new life with them.

Initially, Hannibal and Will watched you from a distance, exchanging conspiratorial glances and smiles, as if sharing a silent secret. Every interaction with you only reinforced the idea that you were the missing piece to the puzzle they were putting together. They had no doubt that you would be theirs eventually, whether you wanted it or not.

Hannibal, with his calculating nature and magnetic charm, began to engage you with his intellectual conversations and sophisticated dinners, demonstrating an almost mesmerizing hospitality. He knew exactly how to capture your attention and make you feel special, he knew how to make you feel indispensable.

Will, on the other hand, with his sensitivity and keen perception, found subtle ways to connect with you. He understood you in a way few could, offering a shoulder to lean on and a deep understanding of your emotions and thoughts. His sincere vulnerability was a perfect contrast to Hannibal's confident assurance.

You found yourself torn between these two poles of attraction, each complementing the other in a way that seemed almost orchestrated. Hannibal and Will became more and more indispensable, each encounters deepening your connection and making the idea of ​​leaving their circle more and more unthinkable.

Finally, a dinner at Hannibal's house that felt more like a secret celebration than a simple meal. The tension in the air was palpable, filled with unspoken promises and unspoken desires. Hannibal and Will, with complicit looks, began to close the distance between the three of you, breaking down the last remaining barriers. They didn't hide their intentions anymore, nor what they were. There was no more secret.

They knew perfectly well how to manipulate you, how to make you trust them completely. Every interaction, every gesture, was carefully calculated to deepen their dependence and trust. Hannibal, with his ability to read people and understand their weaknesses, knew exactly what to say to make you feel valued and special. His words were like a balm, soothing any doubts you might have had.

Will, in turn, used his innate empathy to connect with you on a deep emotional level. He knew how to make you feel understood and accepted, creating an intimacy that seemed almost magical. His eyes reflected a sincerity that was difficult to question, and his presence offered a comfort that became addictive.

They were both good to you, in their own way. Hannibal would always cook you your favorite meals, and treat you to anything you want. Do you want to go on a ridiculously expensive trip? No problem. He will give you all the best and the best, bathing you in luxury. Will is more simplistic in this situation, he prefers to show his love for you through touches, like kisses and hugs, but he also gives you gifts when you want something.

Will is the more affectionate of the two, at least physically. He likes to hug you constantly, bury his head in your neck or steal kisses from you. Hannibal is already more subtle in his touches, he prefers to place a hand on your shoulder, lift your chin so that you look him in the eyes and kiss your forehead gently.

They are extremely possessive and overprotective and this is nothing new. Hannibal will kill and cook anyone who gives you the wrong look or displays inappropriate behavior around you. To him, you are a treasure that must be protected at all costs, and he will not hesitate to use his macabre skills to ensure your safety. Any perceived threat is quickly eliminated and transformed into a feast only you can enjoy.

Will, on the other hand, has a different but equally intense approach. He is more than willing to beat anyone to death if he thinks they are trying to steal you from them. His anger is raw and direct, driven by an intense passion and a desperate need to protect those he loves and he loves you, even if it's in a twisted way. For Will, you are the anchor that maintains his sanity, and he will do anything to maintain that stability, even if it means committing extreme acts of violence.

Hannibal and Will are an amazing duo when they work together and if they want you, they will get you. While Will may have reservations about kidnapping you and forcing you into a relationship with them, Hannibal already thinks otherwise. You are theirs and there is nothing wrong with taking what is yours, is there?

There is no escaping them. You can try as much as you want, but they will always find you. They are great at hunting together and they would hunt you all over the world if necessary. You won't leave them, they will be sure of that.

In the end, you become part of their world, accepting that, although complex and sometimes terrifying, it is the only place you truly belong. They own you, and you, in some way, also own them, creating an indissoluble bond that redefines the concept of relationship. The sooner you accept that this is your new reality and accept them as your partners, everything will be fine. But if not, Hannibal will have no problem teaching you manners and Will are going to be there to help heal your wounds and silence your cries.

[skyahri]

Arranged Marriage |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Caught up in his personal conflict, Zuko completely neglects his marriage.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, forced marriage, whatever. Mentions of violence. Angsty Zuko and reader. Fem pronouns.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You'd married Zuko a little over a year into his reign as Fire Lord. You're the oldest daughter from a noble family, and the council decided it was best if Zuko married someone well liked by the community.

He didn't take it well. He was still hoping Mai would come back to him, and you being there completely obliterated those chances.

Not that there was a shot to begin with. Mai had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Zuko, even if she admitted to still having feelings for him.

Your relationship was staged to be perfect in the eyes of the people. Young love against all odds sort of thing.

The marriage ceremony was beautiful. Your robes were elegant, the flowers were perfect, and even your soon-to-be husband was handsome.

Zuko was charming towards the guests, really selling the story and gaining a lot of trust with his people. He was awkward but personable, something everyone ate up.

But he wasn't like that with you.

As soon as the two of you were away from public eyes, he didn't so much as look your way.

You slept in different rooms and ate at opposite ends of the table. He excluded you from as many duties as he could, stating something about him not wanting to concern you.

Life in a palace was pretty isolating. The only people you could talk to were servants, and even then, your topics were extremely limited.

You'd taken to the gardens as much as possible. It felt nice to be outside and even better to see the plants and animals.

Tending to the flowers was one of the few things you were allowed to do without constant eyes on you. The lonely atmosphere felt intentional instead of forced.

But after a year of this, not even the newly budding flowers could heal your disdain. Your once bubbly exterior had been chipped away by the dread and disappointment that lingered in your heart.

You were truly just a shell of your former self by this point.

There was no change with Zuko. He'd made no effort to get to know you or even just not hate you. Any attempt you'd made in the beginning to soften the relationship had been put out the moment it left your lips. It seemed like public pleasantries would be the extent of your marriage.

You'd long given up on trying to befriend the older women who waited on you. They had no desire to be anything more than the people who got you through the day.

You'd given up on trying to sneak away with the kitchen staff to the market. They feared being held responsible for you, even if you claimed to be plenty capable of taking care of yourself.

All that was really left to do was to just stay quiet and look pretty. The sad fate of the Fire Lord's wife.

You'd been laying in bed all morning. It was one of the few days where nothing was planned. No meetings, no guests, no events- nothing.

Well, at least you thought.

"Miss Y/N, Lord Zuko has requested your presence. We must get you ready immediately."

They'd dragged you out of bed and stuffed you into a pair of your nicest robes. They're doing your hair up and rushing to cover your face in makeup.

"Why am I being summoned?"

"The Avatar and his friends have arrived. They were the ones to request you."

"I see."

It made sense. You had met the Gaang at your wedding, and they were everything you'd expected; kind, loud, and passionate. Just like Zuko was said to be.

At the time, they'd promised to come by often, but you hadn't seen them since. You'd heard something about the rebuilding of the air temple and having some unexpected issues arise, so they just hadn't had time until now.

You met Zuko at the front gates. His friends arrived just after, allowing the servants to take their things to their rooms. Without a word, Katara grabbed your arm and dragged you away with the other girls. You turned back to see the same happening with Zuko and the boys.

They pulled you all around the surrounding area. For the first time in a long time, the dread started to fade away.

You'd bought some new incense, hair pins, and seeds for the flower beds. They were small purchases in comparison to the others, who had gone all out with new clothes, trinkets, and a heap of spicy snacks for Sokka.

You'd suggested several times over the last few hours that it was time to head back to the palace, but only now that it was growing dark did the trio actually listen.

Just as you had begun packing up, a string of explosions started on the next block and made its way towards the plaza you were in.

Toph was quick to make a stone barrier, but that didn't stop the cloud of soot from staining your skin and clothes.

A group of men had emerged from the smoke and revealed themselves to be Ozai supporters. Not everyone was pleased with the fundamentals Zuko was running the country on, so rebels had started causing a bit of an uproar.

Katara, Toph, and Suki did their best to take the men down swiftly, but that didn't stop you from getting injured in the process.

Your forearms had been severely burned when you'd covered your face from an attack. Katara offered to heal you, but it'd have to wait until you got back to the palace where her spirit water was.

The trip back was uneventful. Some of the local guards stationed in the city had insisted on escorting you guys back, which at this point you couldn't deny.

Apparently, word had already gotten back to Fire Lord Zuko, who was waiting at the front doors of the palace for your arrival.

He immediately stepped forward and picked up your hand, letting the scorched fabric fall and reveal your burn. He did the same with the other and sighed.

"Please give us the room."

You watched as everyone filed out of the room, the guards towards the exit and your friends towards the south wing.

"These are severe,"

He cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head so he could get a good look. His thumb swiped over some of the soot on your face.

You were confused by his actions, but the pain from your burns created a bit of a blur in your mind, keeping you from thinking too hard about it.

"The others couldn't protect you?"

"They did what they could. I apologize for the hassle-"

"Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault."

You opted to stay silent. You weren't sure what to say. This is the longest conversation you'd had in private since you'd met, and you were finding it hard to navigate.

It was silent for a minute. The vibe was awkward, and you desperately wanted to hide away from all of it.

His face contorted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. You didn't pry. It didn't feel like your place to ask.

"Why don't you head to your room for a bath, and I'll have Katara meet you in there once you're done."

You nodded and made your way down the corridor. You stripped down and opted to just toss your clothes in the trash. Between the ash and scorch marks, there was no saving anything.

The second the water touched your wounds, you winced. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched small bits of charred skin go down the drain. The pain quickly went from a sharp sting to almost mind-numbing. You sat down and let the water just run down your body while you waited for the brunt of the discomfort to pass.

In your hazy state of mind, you hadn't heard the knock on the door, so you were surprised when Zuko entered in much more casual clothing.

When he saw you hunched over on the shower floor, he didn't say anything. He moved to the side of the tub and went to touch you, but you weakly swatted his hands away.

"I'm not comfortable with you being in here whole I'm naked."

"I'm your husband-"

"You're a stranger."

Ouch. Harsh but fair, and he knew it.

"Look, I know I haven't been good to you over the past year, and I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when you're feeling better, but for now just let me take care of you."

Satisfied with his response, you stopped resisting his help. You let him wash your hair and scrub your skin. His touch was gentle despite how rough his hands were.

He never once made you feel uncomfortable. He was thourough but never lingered. It was almost as if this was a normal occurrence.

When he was done, he offered you a towel and left you alone in the bathroom to get dressed. When you entered your bedroom, Katara was on your bed, but Zuko was nowhere in sight.

"Just me. Sorry to disappoint."

"No, no. I'm glad you're here."

You sat in front of her on the bed and let her examine your burns. She positioned your arms for easy access and opened her canister. You watched the water glow and the skin slowly heal itself. It was amazing, nothing like anything youd seem before.

"So," she broke the silence, "Has he warmed up to you at all?"

You were surprised by her words. You weren't sure how much they knew or what all you should say. Last thing you wanted to do was incriminate him.

Sensing your hesitation to respond, Katara clarified her question.

"I know everything, at least, from his side. You can be honest with me."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

A small smile crept onto your face.

"I think you're friend is an ass."

"I couldn't agree more."

You told her everything; the loneliness, the isolation, the lack of, well, everything in your relationship and life. She listened, something you're eternally grateful for. It felt nice just to get it off your chest instead of suffering silently.

"Today was the greatest day I've had in a long time. I got to leave the palace and talk to people and for once it felt like my husband didn't hate me."

"Zuko doesn't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

"He doesn't hate you. Just talk to him. I know he has a lot to say, and it seems you do as well."

Once your arms were healed good as new, Katara left your quarters and returned to her own. You'd crawled under the covers and passed out, completely exhausted from the day.

The next day, you took Katara's advice and decided to speak with Zuko. You woke up early, before the sun had risen and made your way to his room.

He was surprised to see you, much less in your nightwear at such an hour. He invited you in nonetheless, where you then entered and decided to sit on his bed. You patted the spot in front of you, and he hesitantly sat.

"Katara said we should talk."

"Okay."

Sensing that he wasn't going to be the one to initiate anything, you decided to get the ball rolling.

It was a long conversation. Zuko confessed a lot of things, mostly about bitter feelings towards life and guilt over his actions. He apologized for everything and listened to everything you had to say. He made a lot of promises to be better.

He stuck to his word. He began including you in anything you were welcome to. Dinners became more personal, and eventually, you started sleeping in his room like a proper married couple.

By the time team Avatar had visited again, things had visibly changed. You were both happier, and your once fake marriage had become real. You meshed into the group just fine, making the pseudo family that much bigger.

All thanks to a simple conversation.

[harrysfolklore]

of the jealous kind - charles leclerc blurb

inspired by this request ! i hope you like it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The Miami heat embraced your skin as you walked holding Charles' hand through the Ferrari garage. It was race day and you were beyond excited to be joining him.

The Miami Grand Prix was known to be a place where all kinds of celebrities wanted to be, from actors to influencers, the paddock and the garages were filled with starlets who wanted to meet the drivers. So you wondered who would you be seeing around the area and possibly fangirling if any of your favorite celebrities happened to attend

"They told me Ed Sheeran is coming," Charles said, as if he read your mind, "I really want to meet him, he's a legend."

"Look at you, fan boy," you teased, pinching his side and letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders, "Are you going to tell him how many times you play his songs around the house?"

"Definetely, I'm also going to ask him to sign my forehead," he said and you threw your head back in laughter, "Are you good? Do you want anything to drink? Or anything I can get you."

You smiled tenderly at him, one of Charles' many love languages was always making sure you felt comfortable and happy, no matter the place or setting.

"I'm all good, baby," you pecked his cheek affectionately, "I can't wait for the race to start, honestly."

"Me too, I have a great feeling about this one," he moved his arm to placed around your waist, squeezing your hip, "I feel like it's going to be special."

Before you could reply, someone from his team called for him.

"I'll be back in a minute, mon coeur," he kissed your lips quickly, "Don't go too far, okay?"

"Don't miss me too much." You winked at him and sent him his way, watching as he walked off with a confident stride.

As you waited for Charles to return, you took in the atmosphere of the garage. Mechanics rushed around, making last-minute adjustments to the cars, while team members and guests mingled, discussing the upcoming race. You spotted a few familiar faces among the crowd, fellow drivers and their partners, all sharing in the pre-race anticipation.

Lost in thought, you almost didn't notice when a voice called out your name. Turning, you could swear your jaw fell to the floor as you realized that it was Zayn, your ex-boyfriend.

You and Zayn dated for almost two years and broke up nearly six years ago, the breakup was healthy and you were in good terms with him after it, but it had been years since you had seen each other, and you had never expected to run into him here, of all places.

"YN, hey," Zayn said, a warm smile on his face as he reached you, "Wow, it's been a while,"

"Yeah, it has," you replied, returning his smile. "What are you doing here? Are you a fan of Formula 1 now?"

"Yeah, I'm really into it," he said, "I was dying to meet the drivers and hang around here, I'm glad I could finally do it."

"That's amazing," you said, genuinely surprised. "I had no idea you were into that kind of stuff."

"Yeah, it's been a huge hobby of mine for a while now," Zayn explained. "But enough about me, how have you been? What have you been up to?"

You filled Zayn in on your life since you last saw each other, telling him about your job, your hobbies, and of course, your relationship with Charles. Zayn listened intently, nodding along and asking questions, clearly interested in hearing about your life.

"I'm really happy for you, YN," Zayn said sincerely. "It sounds like you're in a really good place right now."

"Thank you, Zayn," you replied, smiling sincerely at him, "I'm glad we ran into each other. It's nice to catch up."

Before any of you could say anything else, you felt a presence behind you and a strong arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

You didn't have to turn around and look at his face to know that Charles was jealous.

"Hey, love," he said, his gaze fixed on your face, "All good?"

"Yeah, I was just catching up with Zayn. Zayn, this is Charles,"

"Her boyfriend," he said before you could even speak, and you almost rolled your eyes comically, "It's nice to meet you, mate."

"Nice to meet you too," Zayn said as you shook hands, "YN was just telling me about you, I'm a big fan."

"Likewise," Charles replied, his tone polite and kind but and with a hint of possessiveness "Are you visiting all the Garages?"

"Yeah, that's my goal for the day," Zayn said, "Actually, I should probably get going, It was really nice seeing you, YN. And it was great meeting you, Charles."

"Yeah, it was nice catching up," you replied, offering him a smile.

"Take care, both of you, and goof luck on the race." Zayn said, returning your smile.

As Zayn walked away, you could feel Charles relaxing beside you. He turned to you, his expression softening, and you looked at him with accusing eyes.

"So, care to explain what was that?" you said, raising your eyebrows at him.

"What was what?" Charles looked at you innocently, but you could see his jaw was still tensed

"Don't play dumb, Charles," you chuckled, nudging him with your elbow. "You were totally jealous back there, acting all petty and protective."

"I wasn't jealous," he protested, but his eyes betrayed him, glancing away for a split second before meeting yours again, "I wasn't!"

"Sure, sure," you teased, wrapping your arm around his waist and leaning into him. "It's cute, you know. Seeing you get all protective."

"Okay, you win," he rested his arm on your back, "I just wanted him to know you're with me now."

"Don't worry, I think he got the message," you teased, leaning into his side.

"Good," Charles chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple "Because I don't like sharing."

"Don't be ridiculous now," you rolled your eyes playfully, "You're like a big, jealous puppy."

"Hey, I can't help it," Charles protested, a grin on his face, "You're stunning and such a catch, anyone would die to be with you," he said, instantly making you blush, "I just love you so much."

"I love you too," you replied, leaning up to kiss him softly, "Now, come on, let's go watch you win this race."

"Sounds like a plan," Charles said, squeezing your waist, "I hope Verstappen doesn't ruin that plan though."

[cvnntagious]

˗ˏˋ pornstar!chris films with someone new ‧₊˚

꒰part two ✩꒱ (coming soon)

creeping into chris' condo as quiet as possible with a wrapped gift in hand, a large smile took up most of your face at the thought of him opening it. though, the more you explored the area, the more discouraged you got before eventually giving up with a loud sigh at the realization that he wasn't home. but then, where was he? he always told you when he was going to be out, but today? he didn't even so much as leave you a text.

if not for chris updating you on his whereabouts becoming routine, you truthfully would've thought nothing of his sudden absence, but with a confused look on your face, you found yourself setting his christmas present on the coffee table in front of you to plop down onto his couch. you slipped your phone out of your back pocket, instantly typing away at it.

it was simple and straight to the point, leaving no room for confusion; you'd never been the type to beat around the bush. you weren't upset, really—more like confused, is all. and you waited. sitting idly on his couch as you waited for that little 'delivered' alert to turn into 'read'.

it didn't.

not for a while, at least. you ended up leaving his house only about half an hour after you sent the message, seeing no reason in just sitting there overthinking it. but you still did. going on about your day, trying to distract yourself from that nagging voice in the back of your brain that whispered 'where's chris at? what's he doing?' and 'you're not special. he got bored of you, silly,' at any moment you weren't occupying your mind with something else.

you knew you were probably overreacting; being dramatic in a way chris wouldn't like if he could hear your thoughts. i mean, it's not even like you'd be that upset if he had gotten tired of you. he was only some good dick and a person to keep you company... every single day for the past month. shit, you needed to know. picking up your phone in a swift motion as you now sat on your own couch, having tried to watch a show as means to keep your mind off chris, you checked your notifications in hopes that you'd missed his text.

but something new caught your eye.

a notification from chris' twitter, far different than anything you'd imagined throughout the day. of course you clicked it, a small breath of relief coming from you as you'd immediately told yourself he must've been busy with his executives. oh, he was busy alright.

your eyebrows raised at the sight before you: a short clip of chris plowing into some blonde with big tits, her moaning and whining in such a forced way. he was grabbing and squeezing at them. i mean, shit, he wasn’t even a boobs guy. it was so unlike him, completely disregarding his original intent for his content—keep it authentic. the caption only contained the hub link, telling his fans to watch the full video there.

dread sounds about right. a look of dread spread across your face, as if you'd just witnessed your worst fear. except it wasn't your worst fear. at least you didn't think it was, until now.

without thinking, you found yourself in chris' messages again, seeing the 'delivered' alert still there like a taunt. it was a slap in the face, really. not even the fact that he'd went and filmed with someone else, but the way he'd so clearly purposely failed to give you any type of warning.

once you'd sent the message, seeing the little text below your blue message change to 'read' instantly, it all suddenly felt pointless — all the worrying throughout the day, the dread you felt when you watched the short clip chris posted, the hurt when you saw he ignored your message, and now, even the message you literally just sent to him.

w/c : 645

a/n : i'm gonna try to bust these out the best i can, but y'all might have to bare w me cs i'm proly the worlds slowest writer... this may overlap with the au calendar as well, so to be clear, this isn't my priority. if i have to postpone parts of this to keep up with the prompts, i will. that being said, hope you guys enjoy my first multi-part tumblr fic <3.

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Congratulations for 800 followers!!! 💝💖😘

I have amazing idea, if you into this. I was thinking whenever reader and eddie said the same words at the same-times and whoever say “Jinx!” So eddie can’t say any word till reader said his full name. But… not for while (evil laugh) because R want to see how far he can stay silent but hang on, eddie had a great idea, he made reader cums so many times till he hear his full names!

Thank you for the request! It's been a minute since I wrote anything for Eddie. I missed him! ❤️

I changed this up just a wee bit! Hope you enjoy!

CW: No use of Y/N. Pet names. Reader has a vagina. Established relationship. Oral (female receiving). Fingering. Squirting. Eddie cums in his pants.

WC: 1.3K

“JINX!” You yelled with a smirk, before his brain had time to register it.

“Hey— no, I—” He tried to protest.

“Ah, ah Ed! You know the rules, three times.” Pinching his full lips between your thumb and forefinger, effectively shushing him, smiling and lowering your hand back down.

“Eddie… Eddie… Ed…” You laugh as he rolls his eyes. “Didn't think I'd make it that easy for you, did you?”

“Sweethea—”

“Eds!” You chide once more. “You're the one who came up with this game, so shut that big, beautiful mouth of yours!”

He huffs with a pout, leaning his head back against the couch, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. Fuck. He just had to come up with a stupid game that you'd gladly play along with, but he'd hoped he would have the upper hand, instead he had to somehow stay quiet until you said his first name three times. No nicknames, and no abbreviations count. A hard, if not impossible task for the motormouth, getting the idea after the two of you saw Beetlejuice for the first time.

You hummed, turning back to the magazine you were reading with a grin, in no hurry to give him his freedom. It had been a while since you'd gotten the best of him and you planned on prolonging his torture for as long as possible.

His attention finally drifts back to the TV as you hear another huff of irritation that you ignore.

He fidgets in place, knee bouncing next to yours, already fighting for his life and it's only been 10 minutes. Of all his stupid ideas. Way to go motormouth…

His eyes drift over to you, legs bent under yourself while still reading that magazine, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you scan over an article that must be interesting enough to hold your attention.

You look stunning, but who was he kidding, you always did. He continues to roam over your form, when an idea suddenly strikes, scooting closer to you.

His fingers come into view, curling over the top of the magazine before it's yanked from your grip and tossed to the floor.

“Hey! Eds! What're you do—”

Your whining is cut off when he presses his lips to yours, tongue instantly exploring and tangling with yours giving you no other choice but to reciprocate and melt into his needy mouth.

He hums his contentment, arm curling around your waist, hand coming to cradle your jaw, breaking the kiss a moment later. You open your eyes to see a devious grin plastered across his smug face as he lets you go to ease off the couch.

You watch him intently, brows married with confusion. His hands drift to your knees, pushing them apart slowly, his own eyes drifting down to your soft pink panties that come into view beneath your short skirt.

“Baby…” You muse with a giggle, his hands drifting up the outside of your thighs, still looking down between your legs. Once he reaches your ass, he quickly grabs your hips and pulls you forward with a squeak escaping you at the sudden movement.

“It's not going to be that easy.” You laugh, his gaze finally drifting back to yours as his eyes darken, hearing your resolve only made his determination grow.

One hand flips up the edge of your skirt as his other trails to the inside of your thigh sending a shiver down your spine, goosebumps spreading across your soft skin.

You assume his intentions were to tease you until you give in, but instead his fingers hook into the side of your panties, hastily pulling them over.

He groans, seeing your lips already glistening with your juices, biting his lip to keep from commenting further as he moves forward, promptly flattening his tongue, licking a broad stripe up, moaning the moment your essence erupts across his taste buds.

“Ooooh!” Your hips buck when he expertly flicks across your clit, his free hand pins you quickly back down to the cushion.

He grins against you, repeating his motions. Your hands come to tangle in his unruly curls, gripping a little tighter each time he pays special attention to your puffy nub, making a series of moans fall from your parted lips.

His mouth moves back down to your aching hole, tongue darting in and out, lapping at the steady stream of sweet juices.

“Yes! Yes!” You pant out, between labored breaths getting caught in your chest when his finger teasingly swirls around your entrance causing you to suddenly clench around nothing.

Eddie was very vocal in bed, well anywhere for that matter. It was a little off-putting to only hear the smacking of his lips against your core mixed with your filthy moans but if this was the type of treatment you receive each time you “jinxed” him you'd gladly take one sided silence for just a little while longer.

His lips attach to your throbbing clit, sucking a little harshly as his finger begins to push inside of you.

You throw your head back with a high pitched whine, as he slides his digit into you, pulling back just as quickly adding a second with ease into your soaking pussy, immediately curling them up to send you into a frenzy.

A combination of figure eights and tight circles dance across your clit, providing the perfect amount of friction for your core to be set ablaze. His fingers continued to curl, until he found that perfect spot.

Your back arches, hips pushing your pussy further into his mouth with a cry of pure pleasure.

His eyes dart up over your mound when he feels you tighten around his fingers. He wants to praise you, tell you how good you're doing but he moans instead, the vibrations sending another jolt of ecstasy through your body.

He strokes you from the inside, the rough pads of his fingers moving over your sweet spot again and again, each pass growing a little more frantic pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You're barely coherent when he adds a third finger, giving such a delicious stretch making your walls flutter and toes curl.

“Oh fuck!” You wail out, only causing him to double down his efforts, moving his free hand to press down on your lower abdomen.

“Oooooh! Baby!” Yelling out and squirming under him as that pressure begins to rapidly build, but he holds tight, pinning you in place giving you no other alternative than to let go.

Your cunt clamps down around his fingers, as your orgasm crashes into you with a blinding force, a tidal wave of pleasure pulling you under. An abundance of sparks dance behind your eyes, your release soaking him in the process.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You repeat his name like a mantra while he works you through your high, only slowing and popping off your abused clit when you begin to push his head away.

“Fucking finally!” He grins in triumph, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You squirted by the way.” He adds, winking and quickly hopping up to grab a towel from the hall closet.

“Wha—I…” You sputter out, trying to comprehend what had just happened, chest still heaving, mind still reeling in the afterglow.

He comes back into view a few moments later, towel in hand, dropping back between your thighs, gently wiping up the mess you made.

You throw an arm over your eyes, letting him take care of you as you hum your appreciation.

“Shit, Eddie! You didn’t–” Suddenly rising up on your elbows.

“Uh,” Clearing his throat slightly. “I did, actually.” He blushes as your gaze travels to the very wet patch on the front of his jeans.

“Well, that's one down. Two more to go.” Mumbling as you bite your lip.

“Hmmm?” His eyebrows raise, with a tilt of his head trying to decide if he had heard you correctly.

“Since we're using a rule of three, I think it's only fair you give me two more earth shattering orgasms.” Shrugging, as his mouth drops open.

“Ooooh! You are in for it now, sweetheart!” He grins, eyes lighting up at the prospect of a long night, tossing the towel and practically pouncing on top of you.