#the issue is .. im fucked up yes but he is the only one im like obssessed with

[cator99]

I always get detained at da border because PROFUNC never ended but basically I'm like if a targeted individual didn't even care

[dolokhoded]

simon peter is the funniest apostle to work with because in theory he's the most loyal, most by-the-book of the apostles so you'd expect him to be the most logical and collected one but 80% of his concerns (pre crucifixion then everything went downhill and they all died) are that he has a crush on every person he encounters

[chenyuvale]

.. i feel nauseous

[ichigosoju]

🐑

[luckyemo]

i always forget naegi/togami is like... a popular ship i guess so theres ppl who think like Deeply about togami and i just wha

[frostbite-the-bat]

remembering old fandoms and rps and aus i had and im realizing this isnt the first time an au version of frostbite interacted a lot with someone who at least in text had a quirk that does something to the letter s which is ironic considering their name

[radmista]

.

[sleepyagent]

I mean we can hang and just talk too but i dont want to do that too much

What about once every half year

[no-144444]

nothing bad!- o.piastri

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summary: the sprint pisses you off, ted's notebook catches you at a bad time, you say some things, oscar posts some things, and it ends up being one of the most popular ad campaigns in history. oops.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader

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You rolled your eyes as you watched the sprint end. Bullshit. Team orders had always left a bad taste in your mouth, but this was just bullshit. You sighed, looking at Mark, and he just rolled his eyes. Oscar was on par with Lando in his second season. Yes, there were some small mistakes or issues, but he was a fucking jet engine, and he deserved a team that treated him like one. He was going to be World Champion next year, you knew it, Mark knew it, everyone knew it. 

“Fucking arseholes,” Mark cursed. “What time is your quali at?” 

“12,” you answered. “I’m going to just go talk to him, see you in a bit.” 

You stood in Parc Fermé and he came up, pressing a kiss to your lips and sighing as his team congratulated him. 

“That was such bullshit,” you sighed, following him to his driver’s room after the media duties. “Wanna fuck to get all that frustration out?” 

He nodded, not even looking at the question like it was a joke. You both knew it wasn’t. “How long until your quali?” 

“An hour,” you shrugged, pulling him into his room with a smirk. 

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When you two finally resurfaced, you made your way over to your car, ready to slot it onto the grid, as you did, you were stopped by Ted Kravitz, the man, the myth, the legend himself. 

“Y/n! How are you feeling about today’s quali and sprint race?” he asked. 

“Good, yeah. Just need to get out and up there,” you nodded. You were the number one driver in F1 Academy, and F2. This weekend was an F1 Academy weekend. You’d won every race since you’d joined the series, a sweep of total domination for 2 years. 13 wins under your belt in F1 Academy, 12 feature race wins in F2, and 12 Sprint wins in F2. And you were only 22. 

“And how did you feel about Oscar’s Sprint race? You didn’t look so happy in Parc Fermé.”

You rolled your eyes. “If Lando really needs Oscar to take a side step like that over one point, maybe he’s not ready to be champion,” you shrugged. “And that’s coming from a friend.” 

You could feel the air shift as Ted smirked, knowing what a headline that would be. 

“Thanks for your time Y/n, we’ll see you on the other side of Quali,” he smiled, allowing you to walk on. 

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Pole position, again. 

It was almost funny how easy it was. 

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You made your way back into your garage and found Oscar looking proud, but slightly guilty…

“What did you do?” you asked, putting your helmet and gloves down. 

“Nothing bad,” he prefaced. “But I may or may not have posted something.”

You looked at him quizzically. “Show me.” 

He turned his phone around and you laughed. 

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oscarpiastri

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, y/nracing, and 839,231 others

oscarpiastri: get yourself a girlfriend who a) is intelligent, gorgeous, and awesome. and b) publicly humiliates your teammate over one point :)

comments

landonorris: low blow... i thanked you -> y/nracing: u forgot to thank beyonce.

user82: WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

mclaren: please take this down xxx -> y/nracing: if he takes this down i'll bomb mtc. -> mclaren: OH GREAT HEAVENS.

zbrownceo: we know this diva 💜

lilymhe: hold up im trying to spell gorjus -> y/nracing: OMG I FUCKING LOVE YOU DITCH ALEX FOR ME PLZ

carlossainz: at least you've got a leg up on lando... -> user22: ??? -> carlossainz: he hjas a girlfriend that loves him, lando's dumps him every four days -> landonorris: WHY AM I CATCHING STRAYS RN????

oscarpiastri: who is this gorgeous lady? -> y/nracing: she's taken bucko -> oscarpiastri: not by lando norris 😹😹😹 (even though he asked you out first...) -> y/nracing: who the fuck would pick lando over oscar?

pierregasly: WHO IS THIS DIVA 💜

charlesleclerc: glad to see my daughter in law is still insane

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“Well, I’d better post something myself, shouldn't I?” you smirked. He nodded, a bright blush on his cheeks, knowing exactly what you were going to post. 

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y/nracing

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 12,293,942 others

y/nracing: booo ln4. i'm into op81. oh yeah, also our skims collection is out on the 24th xxx

comments

user82: OH MY FUCKING GOD

user29: i have no one to talk to about this.

oscarpiastri: pretty girl -> y/nracing: pretty boy

landonorris: ??? ->oscarpiastri: I will actually gouge your eyes out, unlike this post right now. -> user92: WHAT HAPPENED TO POLITE CAT? -> oscarpiastri: his teammate became a bitch

user92: HOLY SHIT Y/N IS LOOKING GORG

lilymhe: my girl is beautiful

alexandrastmleux: my girl xxx

charlesleclerc: supporting! (with my eyes closed)

pierregasly: 👀 ->oscarpiastri: close them.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[solelifauna]

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 2)

Hi guys, I’m alive. I’ve just been sick and then found out that my dog’s cancer spread and the surgery costs $3,000 which is insane. Anyways, I’ve been working irl so I completely forgot about this account. Sorry pookies🤕🙏.

If anyone wants to know I’m still taking commissions, and if my price doesn’t work for you I’m sure I can lower it!! Honestly, I’ll write for whatever price I’m lowkey desperate.😭🙏

The next morning, you wake up in panic, shit, you slept in. You rush out the manor forgoing breakfast, almost eating shit on the sidewalk in your rush. You hop onto your bike, pedaling as if death itself was chasing you, huffing and puffing. Thankfully you make it to school on time, if only just on time.

You fall into your seat just as the bell rings, letting the top half of your body crumple over the desk.

“Looks like somebody had a rough morning.” The familiar voice of one of your best friends.

“Fuck off Quinn.” You huff out tiredly.

“Fine, then I guess this extra black coffee I got at Gloria’s is going to waste then.” She said teasingly.

How is it that she always has impeccable intuition about these things?

You groaned sitting up, giving Quinn a tired look.

“Yikes, I was gonna make another smartass joke but you look like you’re about to keel over.” She said worriedly, handing over the extra coffee.

“Ha ha, yeah I feel like I'm about to keel over. Thanks for the coffee by the way.” You said dryly.

“Don’t sweat it girl, but–uh, what the hell happened.”

“Too much dude, too much. It's so much bullshit I don't even know where to start.”

“Im guessing its about��”

“Ding, ding, ding, you got it.”

“Shit…how bad? They’re not gonna… you know…” Quinn stutters off.

“Kill me? Eat me?” 

She nodded.

You massage your forehead, a headache forming between your eyebrows. “I'll be so for real right now, I don't even know.”

“Damn, I don't even know what to say to that.” Quinn grimaces.

“It’d be weird if you did.” You joked giving her a sardonic smile.“Well if they’re gonna kill me, I hope they do it before finals.”

“You’ve got issues (Y/n).”

“I’m aware.”

Just then the chatter in the class started to pipe down as your history teacher, Mr. Lechliter, made his way into the room. However, something wasn’t right; his usually neat hair was in disarray and you could smell that he was profusely sweating. He was nervous, which was completely out of character. Sure Mr. Lechliter was awkward at times but he was normally confident and loud around the class, something was going on. 

“Good morning, class,” Mr. Lechliter began, but his voice was shaky, not at all the usual booming tone he used to command the room. “I-uh, hope you’re all ready to jump into… um, well, history.” He swallowed hard, glancing around as if searching for something—or someone—outside the door.

You look at Quinn with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is happening right now?

“We, um, actually have two guests who’ll be auditing a couple of classes today so we all want you guys on your best behavior. For our sakes and yours.” He said fidgeting with his paperweight globe, however, it was what he whispered under his breath that had you worried. What the fuck did he mean by that?!

“These guest speakers are one of the school's top sponsors so I truly cannot express the need we have for you all to behave and be on task, understand?” Mr. Lechliter spoke gravely.

The class let out a scattered “Yes” whilst others nodded. Now it was the class's turn to start getting nervous, the energy in the room now becoming quite grim. Seeing the class’s cooperation, Mr. Lechliter let out a shaky smile and nodded back at the class in approval. You sipped your coffee nervously in tandem.

“Good. Now, without further adieu, please welcome the esteemed Bruce Wayne and his son, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

And in walked your worst nightmare as you choked on your coffee. A hesitant applause began as a couple of heads turned your way, including the scrutinizing eyes of Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake.

“Jesus Christ (Y/n), are you good?” Quinn whispered, patting your back.

“Does it look like I'm good, Quinn?” You whisper-yell back.

“Sorry, dumb question.”

“I legitimately can't do this right now.” You groan out quietly.

Tim’s sharp, calculating gaze landed on you, and for a split second, his lips twitched upward in what looked disturbingly close to satisfaction. Bruce, however, kept his gaze steady, stoic, making his way to the front of the class like he owned every square inch of the room—and maybe, in a way, he did.

Bruce stepped forward, greeting Mr. Lechliter with a firm handshake before addressing the class. “Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying a smooth authority. “It’s always a pleasure to see the next generation of Gotham’s finest minds, and today, we’re here to discuss some unique opportunities with Wayne Enterprises—partnerships, scholarships, and mentorship programs that may be of interest to you in your future studies.”

Meanwhile, Tim’s gaze remained fixed on you, a silent warning lingering behind his polite smile. You swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact, hoping that blending in might somehow make you invisible. But Tim had no intention of letting you off the hook. He leaned slightly closer to Bruce, murmuring something that made Bruce’s eyes flicker in your direction, his expression unreadable.

Quinn leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. “(Y/n), what the hell is going on? They keep looking at you.”

“Trust me, I wish I knew,” you muttered back, managing to take a sip of coffee without choking this time. “They’re just here to make my life a living nightmare, apparently.”

As Bruce and Tim began their presentation, outlining all the “wonderful opportunities” that a connection to Wayne Enterprises could bring, you couldn’t help but feel trapped. Every line, every subtle glance, seemed like a reminder that escape from their influence was impossible. They were inescapable, even here, in the one place you thought you could breathe.

When they finally wrapped up their presentation, Bruce offered to answer questions, his gaze settling on you for the briefest moment, as if daring you to speak up. You just nervously looked away, its fine, they’ve said their piece and will be leaving soon.

But of course life doesn't ever go the way that you want.

The relief that had started to settle in evaporated as Bruce and Tim made no move to leave. Instead, they took seats at the back of the classroom, settling in with that same poised, assessing presence that dominated every room they entered. Bruce folded his hands in his lap, his gaze steady and inscrutable, while Tim casually crossed his arms, his eyes tracking every student’s reaction, but always coming back to you.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Quinn, who was now just as unsettled as you were. “Are they… staying?” she whispered, her brows knitting together in worry.

“Looks like it,” you muttered, barely moving your lips.

Mr. Lechliter, visibly tense under the weight of their scrutiny, resumed his lesson with all the grace of a man on the edge of a breakdown. Every time he stumbled over his words or glanced nervously at Bruce, the room felt as if it held its breath.

“This, um, particular era in history…” Mr. Lechliter began, stammering slightly as he struggled to keep his usual confident tone. “It’s a time when alliances shifted often, and there was…constant jockeying for power…”

Bruce and Tim watched, expressions neutral, but you knew better than to believe their act. They weren’t here for any genuine interest in educational standards; they were here as a reminder, a warning that the Wayne influence extended beyond the manor walls.

You focused on your notebook, pen tapping anxiously against the paper as you tried to tune them out and take frantic notes. But it was impossible to ignore the cold prickle at the back of your neck. Every glance felt like a needle, each second stretching longer than the last.

Mr. Lechliter’s lecture painstakingly continued on for another thirty minutes before class started coming to an end.

The bell finally rang as you shot up out of your seat and practically sprinted out the door. You head to your locker, feeling the many starters of students and teachers bore into you. Another thing was that everyone kinda knew that the Wayne’s didn't like you, it was very obvious. Which meant the media had a field day, letting the entirety of Gotham know how much the famous pack hated you. So now your business was also aired out to the entire world to know. Wonderful, am I right?

You shove your unneeded books into your (tbh, very cutely) decorated locker, while grabbing the science textbook you needed for your next class, AP Biology. This class was the absolute bane of your existence. Not only was the content hard, the teacher was also absolutely nuts. You walk over to your Bio class, clutching your books like a lifeline. “Please, dont be here too.” You pray to yourself. Thankfully, this class was normal, well, as normal as it could get. The other two classes you have before lunch ended the same way, Wayneless. 

As your fourth class comes to an end your stomach starts to growl. You’d be embarrassed, but everyone else in your class was in a similar starved state. When the lunch bell goes off, you’re excitedly grabbing your things and making your way down. Fucking finally it was lunchtime. You made your way to the quickly growing lunchline

Your friends were already sitting at your usual table as you made your way over and slammed your lunch tray on the table.

“Im gonna kill myself.”

“I can't even say anything about that.” One of your other friends Daniel says.

You groaned holding your head in your hands, your headache becoming more prevalent as you turn to look at him.

“Man all I did was ask to leave, and now this shit? I can't even right now.”

“You finally asked to leave, huh? I'm guessing it didn't go well.” Daniel asks.

“Nope, but when does anything ever go right in my life.”

Just as you finish talking, the noisy cafeteria falls abruptly silent. The usual clatter of trays and chatter of students fades, replaced by an almost eerie quiet. You and your friends exchange confused glances before turning to see what—or who—could possibly have silenced a room full of teenagers. But in the pit of your stomach, you already have an idea.

Sure enough, walking through the entrance are Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne, looking completely out of place in their immaculate suits and composed expressions. Their powerful, calculating gazes sweep across the crowd, searching for someone, before both of their eyes zero in on you and your table. Instinctively, you tense up, your shoulders hunching as if to make yourself smaller, and you feel the flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks under their scrutiny.

Their focused stares make you flinch, and you quickly look away, facing your friends once more. “See what I mean?” you mutter under your breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s like the universe is out to get me.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the Waynes, a flicker of worry passing over his face. "What are they doing here? This isn’t normal, right?”

“No, it’s definitely not,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart races. “They’re here to make a point.”

You further slump into the table, arms cradling your head as the cafeteria slowly starts to go back to its normal noise level. Both Tim and Bruce take a seat at a table opposite to where you’re sitting, which gives them a perfect view of your table. Great.

“Guys talk to me. Anything–talk about anything please.” You beg quietly.

Quinn leans in, glancing nervously at the Waynes across the cafeteria. “Uh, did you hear about Chief Keef performing soon? Apparently, he’ll be in Gotham.”

Daniel nods, catching on to your plea for distraction. “Yeah, yeah, I heard he's gonna bring another artist on stage. Mauve Travis or something if we’re lucky?.”

You smile weakly, grateful for the distraction, even if your heart’s still pounding. You try to focus on what they’re saying, but you can feel Tim’s gaze on you like a laser, scrutinizing, watching every movement. You pretend not to notice, grabbing a fry from your tray and nodding along to whatever Daniel and Quinn are saying, forcing yourself to join in with a half-hearted laugh here and there.

Quinn suddenly brings up a story from her last weekend, trying her best to lighten the mood. “Okay, get this—I tried to impress this guy by pretending to know how to skate, but instead, I ended up flat on my face in front of, like, everyone. Mortifying, but he did buy me a smoothie as a consolation prize.”

You chuckle, letting the story pull you out of your anxious thoughts. “I mean, sounds like it kind of worked. You got a free smoothie, right?”

Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes. “Only because he felt bad, but hey, I’ll take pity smoothies.”

The laughter at your table grows, the lighthearted moment almost making you forget the ominous presence of Bruce and Tim nearby. But just as you’re starting to relax, you catch a glimpse of Tim’s amused smirk from the corner of your eye. His eyes don’t leave you, as if he knows exactly how unsettling his presence is and he’s reveling in it.

“I think he liked you,” Daniel teases Quinn, keeping the conversation going to help ease your nerves.

“Liked my bruised ego, maybe,” she snorts. “Anyway, what about you, (Y/n)? Got any secret admirers?”

You shake your head, grateful they’re keeping the focus off your current predicament. “Nope, unless you count the cadaver frog I accidentally dropped on my lab partner. He, uh-didn’t look at me the same after that.”

Your friends burst out laughing, and for a brief, blessed moment, you almost feel normal again. But when you glance back, Bruce’s eyes are still on you, cool and unyielding.

“Here’s to hoping they’re gone after lunch,” Daniel mutters, catching your uneasy glance.

“What good has hoping ever done me?” You sigh, picking at your food.

The tension in the cafeteria never fully fades. Despite the attempts from Quinn and Daniel to keep the conversation going, the presence of Bruce and Tim just continues to overwhelm you. Every so often, your eyes flit toward them, only to find them still seated, still watching, and their expressions betraying nothing of their true intent. It feels like they’re waiting for you to make a move, to react in some way that would justify their unsettling attention.

Lunch drags on in this uncomfortable limbo until, at last, the bell rings, signaling the end of the break. Your friends gather their things, offering small words of encouragement or supportive smiles, though they too look wary of the Waynes’ lingering presence.

“I’ll see you both in Chem. Hopefully Mr. Domzalski isn't still in a bad mood from what happened yesterday.” You say.

“You mean from when you and Daniel set fire to one of his textbooks?” Quinn questions sardonically.

You and Daniel offer her a sheepish, guilty smile. 

“Hey–it was an accident!” he exclaims, feigning offense.

“Yeah, what he said! We followed all the instructions to a T!” You defend as well.

“Sure, whatever you both say. I'm just surprised he didn't automatically fail you two.” Quinn says fondly.

“It’s ‘cause we’re somehow his favorites? Don't ask me how or why though.” You respond.

As you and Daniel chuckle, the lightheartedness helps lift some of the weight that had been hanging over your head. The relief is short-lived, though, as you feel a prickle on the back of your neck—a feeling that’s become all too familiar lately.

You glance back to see Bruce and Tim still watching, and for a moment, something in Bruce’s gaze changes. You can’t quite read it, but it feels sharper, like he’s calculating, considering something he hasn’t said. You swallow, gripping your bag tighter as your friends move to head toward class, unaware of the silent tension hanging around you like a cloud.

You head to your APA Algebra II class alone, without the usual buffer of Daniel or Quinn’s lighthearted banter to ease the tension. The classroom is quiet, a different atmosphere from the lively lunch period, and you’re able to slip into your seat undisturbed, hoping that the math problems ahead will give you a welcome distraction.

As the class moves on, you find yourself lost in equations, the numbers and formulas acting as a temporary refuge from everything else. You keep your head down, concentrating on the work, grateful for the momentary peace that academics bring.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of Math, you gather your things and head to APA Chemistry, where you’d finally reunite with Daniel and Quinn. When you arrive in APA Chemistry, the atmosphere is surprisingly relaxed. Mr. Domzalski hasn’t arrived yet, so everyone’s just hanging out, chatting about weekend plans, or joking around. You plop down next to Daniel, who’s already doodling on his notebook, and give Quinn a tired smile. It’s nice to have a few minutes to unwind before the usual controlled chaos of Mr. Domzalski’s class kicks in.

Then, the door swings open, and you freeze as Mr. Domzalski steps in with Tim Drake following close behind. Your stomach twists, and you have to swallow down a groan. Thankfully, Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Small blessings, you suppose; better not to question it too much. You look at your friends, trying to convey your annoyance with a single tired look as Mr. Domzalski beams with a sort of overdone excitement that sets you on edge.

“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome a special guest,” he says, practically brimming with enthusiasm. “Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, is here to observe our class today.”

You sink lower in your chair, stifling a grumble. Great, just great. This whole thing was growing stale fast. You try to ignore the interested murmurs spreading through the class as everyone stares at Tim, who stands there with that same polite, professional smile he’s been flashing all day. You avoid eye contact, focusing instead on the edge of your desk as Mr. Domzalski continues.

“Now,” Mr. Domzalski goes on, shifting his focus to the lab materials, “before we dive into today’s lesson, let’s review what went wrong in yesterday’s lab.”

He shoots a pointed look in your direction, his smile still in place, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not exactly thrilled. “For those who might need a reminder,” he continues, not-so-subtly side-eyeing you and Daniel, “improper handling of materials led to one of my textbooks, which I cherish dearly, being set on fire.”

The class erupts into quiet snickers, and Daniel coughs into his hand, trying to disguise his laughter. You roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Even Tim’s eyes change a bit, as if interested.

Mr. Domzalski clears his throat, regaining the class’s attention. “Let’s aim for a little more caution today, shall we?”

The lab for the day was going to be more complex than usual. Mr. Domzalski, with a edge of nervousness in his tone, began rattling off the new, more complicated instructions. His gaze flicked to you and Daniel more than once, lingering just long enough to make his message clear: Please don’t mess up.

You slouched slightly in your seat, already feeling the weight of the unspoken pressure. It wasn’t lost on you how much was riding on this lab going smoothly—not just for your grade, but for Mr. Domzalski himself. With Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and a member of one of Gotham’s most powerful packs, observing, any mishap could very well put your teacher’s job on the line.

Next to you, Daniel caught your eye, his lips twitching into a wry smirk. He leaned in, whispering, “Feel like we’re walking on eggshells today, huh?”

“More like a minefield,” you muttered back, eyeing the lab equipment warily. The setup looked far more intricate than usual—beakers and flasks stacked alongside pipettes, Bunsen burners, and an array of unfamiliar chemicals. It was a recipe for disaster, and you had no intention of being the one to set it off.

Tim, seated at the back of the room, watched the proceedings with his usual cool detachment. His presence was like a weight pressing down on the room, amplifying every minor sound and movement. You could practically feel his gaze on you, even when you weren’t looking his way.

“Alright, everyone,” Mr. Domzalski said, clapping his hands to gather the class’s attention. “Remember to follow the instructions precisely as they’re written. This is a delicate experiment, and precision is key. Any deviation could—well, let’s just say we don’t want any surprises today.”

The pointed glance he sent your way at the word “surprises” made you cringe internally. You shot Daniel a look. He seemed to get the message, giving you a small nod before turning his focus to the materials in front of him.

With a deep breath, you adjusted your goggles and got to work, determined not to give anyone—especially Tim—a reason to criticize.

The lab was rough from the very start. No matter how tightly you adjusted your goggles, they kept fogging up, obscuring your vision at the worst possible moments. You constantly had to pause to wipe them off, and each time, you felt Tim's Gaze flicker towards you. Daniel, meanwhile, was no better. He almost tipped over a vial of some unpronounceable chemical twice, and each time, you barely managed to steady it before disaster struck.

“Bro you have to lock in.” you said under your breath.

“I'm trying–fuck. My hands are too shaky.” Daniel whispered back, nervous as he tried held out his hands for you to see. He carefully set the vial down, only for his elbow to nudge another piece of equipment. You caught it just in time, your heart leaping into your throat.

The instructions seemed to come at lightning speed, Mr. Domzalski rattling off steps faster than you could write them down. Each new instruction layered on top of the last until your head was spinning with measurements, temperatures, and reaction times. You were doing your best to keep up—you think you were doing it right—but the constant noise and movement around you made it feel like everything was closing in.

You glanced at the flask on your workstation, bubbling faintly as it was supposed to, and double-checked the temperature. It seemed fine. Probably fine. Hopefully fine. But the nagging thought that you might’ve missed a step wouldn’t go away.

Behind you, Tim’s silent observation was like a shadow, adding another layer of stress to the already chaotic atmosphere. Every time you caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye, you swore his expression was unreadable, yet somehow judgmental.

“I think this is right,” you muttered, glancing at the next step in the instructions and adjusting your setup.

“‘Think’ isn’t reassuring, (Y/n),” Daniel replied, he was nervous. “Don’t blow us up, okay?”

“Not funny,” you snapped, though your lips twitched in a half-smile despite the stress. “Just keep stirring before we mess up the timing.”

The rest of the lab dragged on in a haze of nervous energy and frantic adjustments. Your hands trembled slightly as you measured out the final chemical, careful not to let even a drop spill. When you finally completed the experiment, the mixture in the beaker turned the correct pale blue color, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“See?” Daniel said, flashing you a grin. “We nailed it.”

You gave him a tired look. “Barely.”

As Mr. Domzalski approached to check your work, you held your breath, praying there wasn’t some detail you’d overlooked. When he gave a curt nod of approval, you finally relaxed, though your nerves still felt frayed. Even then, you could feel Tim’s eyes on you, as if silently appraising every moment of your struggle.

The lab was over, but the stress lingered like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You packed up your materials with shaky hands, grateful to escape the pressure of both the experiment and the unrelenting scrutiny.

As the class wrapped up, Mr. Domzalski passed by your station, his sharp eyes flicking over the completed experiment. The pale blue liquid in the beaker must have been just right because, instead of his usual critical remarks, he gave a subtle nod and a quiet, “Good work.” The words weren’t overly enthusiastic, but coming from him—and especially with Tim Drake watching—it was as close to praise as you could get.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, and you let out a long sigh of relief. You and Daniel exchanged a look, his triumphant grin mirrored by the faintest smile you allowed yourself. You’d passed. Somehow, despite the foggy goggles, Daniel’s near-disasters, and the relentless pressure, you’d made it through the lab unscathed.

As you finished cleaning up, Mr. Domzalski gave you a brief, silent glance of thanks. It wasn’t much, but you knew what it meant: he was grateful you hadn’t turned today’s experiment into another headline-worthy incident. You nodded subtly back, grateful that the ordeal was over.

With the last of your equipment put away, you grabbed your bag and escaped the lab as quickly as possible, the weight of Tim’s lingering gaze finally lifting as you stepped into the hallway. Quinn was waiting by the door, chatting with Daniel, who was still buzzing with post-lab adrenaline.

“Well, looks like you didn’t burn down the school,” Quinn teased, grinning as she fell into step with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself. “We’re still alive, so I guess that’s a win.”

“Hey give us more credit.” Daniel chimed in, earning a laugh from both you and Quinn.

As the three of you headed for the stairs, you said goodbye to Daniel, who was heading to a different class. “See you later, guys.” he said, waving as he turned down another hallway.

You and Quinn made your way toward the gym for your seventh period, the final class of the day. The familiar chatter and clang of lockers greeted you as you stepped into the changing area. Gym wasn’t exactly your favorite class, but after the stress of the lab, it was almost a relief to have something physical to focus on instead of the constant mental strain.

“Think they’ll leave you alone for the day?” Quinn asked as you pulled on your gym shoes.

“I hope so,” you replied, your voice weary. “I can’t handle any more of this. It’s like they can’t even wait to-to…you know.”

Quinn grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” But she smiles back at you, as if tying to make you perk up. “Well, at least we’re doing dodgeball today, you should blow off some steam.”

You huff, amused. “Mm, maybe nailing Farah in the head with a dodgeball would do me some good.”

“Straight on bitch, that girl needs to be humbled.” Quinn says.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to hit something.”

The two of you stepped into the gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors and the buzz of students warming up filling the air. It wasn’t the easiest day, but at least the end was finally in sight.

The day finally winds down as you head to the locker rooms to change. The smell of sweat and disinfectant fills the air as you and the other students shuffle to your lockers, exchanging the occasional half-hearted quip about how much of a drill sergeant Coach Walker was today. You change quickly, eager to escape the lingering humidity of the gym, and sling your bag over your shoulder just as the dismissal bell rings.

Joining the tide of students heading toward the front exit, you fall into step with Quinn, chatting idly about homework and plans for the weekend. The sprawling line of cars in the pick-up area is already forming, parents eager to whisk their kids away from the chaos of the school day.

Daniel spots you both as he weaves through the crowd toward his mom’s car, parked conveniently near the front of the line. “Guess that’s my ride,” he calls, swatting your shoulder playfully. “Try not to miss me too much tomorrow, I've got a doc's appointment.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah, you wish asshole.”

“Later!” he shouts, hopping into the passenger seat of his mom’s car as it pulls away. You and Quinn wave after him before continuing toward the pick-up zone.

“Alfred here today?” Quinn asks, glancing around at the cars idling nearby.

“Probably not,” you reply with a shrug. “Haven’t heard from him, so it’s probably just me and the bike today.”

Quinn nods, her attention already shifting to a car pulling up in the distance. “Looks like my dad’s almost here.”

You glance toward the pickup area and spot the familiar vehicle inching closer. “Cool. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yep. Don’t get mugged on the way home,” she jokes, smirking as she adjusts her backpack.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply with a laugh. With a quick goodbye, you head toward the bike rack to unlock your trusty two-wheeler.

The quietness of the parking lot is a stark contrast to the noisy chaos of the day. You crouch down, fiddling with the combination lock on your bike, when a hulking shadow falls over you. The sudden shift in light is enough to make your instincts bristle, but you stay focused on the lock, rolling your eyes at the interruption.

“Bro, if you’re lookin’ to mug me,” you say without looking up, your tone flat and unamused, “you should know I’m skint broke. Try some other bitch.”

The air around you seems to thicken with tension, and you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze boring into you. It’s enough to make you pause mid-turn on the lock, your breath catching as a low, familiar voice responds.

“I sure hope you’re not talking to me?” Comes your father, Bruce’s, deep voice.

Your head snaps up, and your breath catches in your throat as you realize it’s not some wannabe punk standing over you.

You pale instantly, the color draining from your face as you meet his icy blue eyes. His expression is unreadable, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating. The sheer presence of him—imposing, cold, and unnervingly silent—makes your stomach churn with dread. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scramble for words, your brain tripping over itself in panic.

“Oh—uh, Mr. Wayne—I didn’t—I mean, I thought…” you stammer, trying to cobble together an explanation and an apology all at once. Your hands fumble with the lock on your bike, suddenly feeling clumsy under his scrutiny. “I—um—sorry! I thought—uh—someone else—”

He raises an eyebrow, the tiniest shift in his expression, but it’s enough to make you flinch. You straighten up, clutching your bike for dear life, feeling small and utterly exposed under his towering figure.

“I see,” he says finally, his voice calm but laced with that undercurrent of authority that makes it clear he’s not just seeing. He’s assessing.

“I didn’t realize it was you,” you blurt, trying to salvage what’s left of your dignity. “I thought it was, uh, someone else. Someone trying to—um—mug me?” The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, and you wince inwardly at how ridiculous it must sound.

Bruce’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you make a habit of mouthing off to strangers you assume are threats?” he asks, his tone deceptively mild.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, shaking your head quickly. “I just—I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s been a long day, and I wasn’t thinking—”

He holds up a hand, cutting off your rambling. “Enough,” he says, “I’m here to pick you up. Alfred’s occupied.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, as you try to process his words. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Bruce might be the one picking you up today. Of course, the thought of him going out of his way to do so hadn’t even crossed your mind, it wasn’t like he ever went out of his way for you before.

“Oh,” you manage after an awkward pause. “Right. Thanks.”

You still have your conversation from the previous day in mind.

“Come on,” he says, turning without another word. “We’re leaving.”

You hastily shove your bike into the back of his sleek black car, your movements hurried and uncoordinated under the pressure of his presence. Sliding into the back seat, you notice Tim sitting in the front passenger seat, looking at you through the rear mirror. You avert your gaze, clasping your hands tightly in your lap, trying not to fidget as the engine purrs to life. The air inside the car is thick with silence, broken only by the occasional click of the turn signal as Bruce maneuvers through traffic.

You steal a glance at him, his expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. Despite the tension knotting your stomach, you force yourself to speak. “I—uh, thanks for picking me up,” you mumble, staring out the window.

Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the road. When he finally speaks, his tone is even but firm. “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Your throat tightens when you see Tim's glee filled smile, as if a cat had just caught a canary. You nod mutely, knowing there’s no point in arguing. Whatever he has to say, it’s not going to be pleasant.

[Hope you guys liked the chapter!! I'm sorry for the delay and the ghosting, more fics will be updated trust!! Also thank you to all the people who were checking on me, I really appreciate it!!]

[cloudysarts]

Screaming, crying, throwing up, eating the drywall with my bare hands, ripping up the floorboards

Please please please PLEASE, begging on my knees, more glasses Bill🙏🙏🙏

(coming from a teen who has awful vision, astigmatism, and visual snow syndrome lol)

(other bills glasses au parts can be found here and here!)

i got SUPER excited when i saw this ask, because you described THE EXACT VISION ISSUES THAT I HAVE!!!!!! :D i also have awful vision, astigmatism, and visual snow syndrome!!!!!! so yes of course ill doodle more glasses!bill for you!!! its like were both mutually projecting 🤝

first of all. this made me realize how PERFECT bill is for visual snow syndrome. for people who dont have it/dont know what it is, its a condition where your eyes get like,,,,,a fuzzy, static-like overlay. like, for me, it looks like im looking through a static filter. it gets ESPECIALLY bad in low light. which reminded me that one of bill's fears is tv static...... 👀 i just couldnt shake the mental image of bill resting for the first time in the theraprism, only to wake up to everything being FUZZY.

at first he thinks its a cruel trick that the staff is playing on him just to torture him more. nah, his eye is just fucked up <33333

ANYWAY, here are some more lighthearted doodles!!!!!!! <3

LIFE HACK!!!! did you know that if your opponent only has one eye and wears glasses, you can temporarily blind him only using a jumbo sticker?? the more you know!!! <3

hes such a drama queen <3

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade's life and his mental health issues a lot, and I just thought about this. Not only being abused, but his entire brain being made out of cancer, and the fact that oxygen was physically taken from his brain over the course of 2+ days multiple times?

We see him coloring a lot and claim multiple times that he doesn't/ can't read (this is probably a bit, I guarantee he can read), but it had me thinking what if some days were more childish then others as part of his coping mechanisms?

At first, Logans was really confused about why Althea puts up with it until he realizes that it's extremely good for him to just... be taken care of? Praised and given affection for the bare minimum? He thinks it's weird. This wasn't the same man he was fighting with yesterday.

Coming into the living room, he sees Wade sprawled out with crayons and markers all around him with multiple pictures already coloured, his notebook having pages ripped out of it as he kicks his feet and hums.

On the tv, there are cartoons playing. Once in a while, he'll look up at the tv and then go back to coloring. "What are you doing??"

"Hi wolvie. 'm colouring."

"He's behaving, so don't ruin it." Al says. There's pictures by her, and she is holding a box of cereal.

"O..kay??" Sitting down, he's almost too curious to just walk away, picking up puppins so she doesn't ruin his drawings, petting her confusedly.

Sometimes, Al will hold out some cereal in her hand. "Wade." And he will see him shimmy over and take the cereal. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby."

As hes scooting back to his color spot he stops and watches the tv for a bit longer then usual.

"...What.. the fuck." Logan says to her and she gives him a brow raise. "What?"

"What is he doing?"

"He's coloring. And I thought I was the blind one."

"No no I mean.. those aren't murder plans. That's puppins."

"Yes? And?"

"And.. what did you do to him?"

"Treated him like a human being. Give it a try once inawhile." She says, and he comes back with more pictures, climbing in between them with no regard for space as he leans into her.

"Oh thank you. What is it?"

"It's you."

"Oh? How sweet. Do I look good?"

"Mhm!"

"Im glad. How about you show our friend here your amazing pictures. And he better be nice!"

So wade turns and now is leaning on logan as he points to a different picture. One of Logan with Puppins on a leash with a sun in the corner and crappy grass, a hearts all over the place.

At first he wants to tell him to get off of him, but seeing the pictures and how excited his eyes were to show him, it hits him and he understands.

".. uhm.. thank you?" But he puts it back in his hand. "Oh- you want me to keep it?"

Wade nods and starts cleaning up his crayons.

Logan turns to whisper to Al "How long does this go on?"

"About 2 hours or so."

"Why?"

"God only knows, but it helps with his nightmares."

"Colouring helps with his nightmares??"

"Its more then that. Hey sweetheart? Why don't you bring your ponys out."

"Theyre horses."

"Oh im sorry, my mistake. I think logan here wants to play horses."

Logan gives her a look like excuse me? When did I sign up for that? "No.. uhm.. I think im good."

Wade gets this look of sad innocence but goes to get them anyway, beginning to play by himself, brushing them and making them talk to each other quietly. As if he speaks any louder, he would get hit.

Logan groans and is like "Gimme a fucking horse.."

From then on, Logan is quick to understand what's happening and is much nicer to him, starts giving him snacks, buying him actual coloring books, and has pinned his drawings to the fridge each time he's gifted one. His horses name is Buttercup, by the way.

[widevibratobitch]

unhinged characters: edward little and james fitzjames? and hodgson [eyes emoji]

ohhhhhHhHHHhHh terror brainrot <333

little

fitzjames

hodgson

[tpwk-formula1]

lando, gluten free, red sauce, onions, chicken, gouda cheese, mozzarella, pulled pork, kale with a sprite, black tea and green tea with dessert please <3

im imagining reader working for his team and they can't stand each other but always end up in each others beds somehow, he catches her flirting w another guy and although he usually wouldn't care for some reason he gets really jealous and has to remind her he's the only one that can have her ? do w this as you wish hehe

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten-free enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex onions "I saw you being a little slut" chicken "Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" gouda “Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl” mozzarella “All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it” pulled pork "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" kale "I love knowing I ruined you so good you can only cum when I make you" sprite size kink black tea choking green tea doggy dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Lando x fem! reader

TW - MEAN ASF Lando, crying, choking, 2 ass slaps, creampie, ROUGH sex, honestly just all the warnings :) MDNI 18+

WC 3000+ (sorry I got really into this one!)

Y/N POV

"Lando, you have filming for Quadrant today," I remind Lando softly making him roll his eyes.

"i know my own damn schedule," Lando snapped making me roll my eyes back at him.

"Then why do you need a fucking assistant," I say while throwing my hands up in defeat.

"I don't fucking know. I thought it would be a good idea, instead, I got stuck with you," Lando snapped back making me roll my eyes and get everything together that Lando would need for the Quadrant video.

"I love to see you try and live a week without me hounding on your ass," I snap back while placing Lando's backpack by the front door so he didn't forget it while also getting his lunch together knowing he would leave without eating if I didn't do it.

"I'm a grown man, I can take care of myself," Lando snapped back making me roll my eyes.

"Okay, give me the rest of the week off. I'll be back Monday morning and if you survived then I'll quit no questions asked, but if you don't then you will learn how to respect me and not be an absolute dick to me," I tell him while pulling his food back down onto the counter no longer preparing him food.

"Deal. It's Thursday which means I only have to survive 4 days, I can manage," Lando replied back making me smile and head to the front door to leave.

"Bye, don't be scared to call when you inevitably need help," I say while exiting and heading back to my own apartment.

I spent the rest of my day relaxing and enjoying my time away from Lando knowing tomorrow was gonna be a new day and he was probably gonna call tomorrow when he realized my job wasn't useless like he always liked to claim.

It was Friday at noon and by now I would normally be with Lando planning what his next week would look like but instead, I'm laying out on a yacht with Oscar.

Oscar and I had always been close. We both started the same year and both bonded over being so young working for McLaren and further bonded when I would rant to him about how Lando was treating me.

"Hold on I'm getting a call," I sit up softly picking up my phone to see who was calling.

I showed Oscar the caller ID making both of us smirk and laugh softly.

"Couldn't even go 24 hours," Oscar mutters making me laugh a little harder before I answer the call.

"Why are you with him," Lando seethed the second I answered my phone.

"Oh, quit it Lando. Do you need me or are you just interrupting my weekend off," I snap back at him having no patience for his jealous ass.

"Get your ass back to my apartment," Lando snapped back making me roll my eyes.

"Lando if this isn't for work related issues then I will not be coming over until I am done hanging out with my friend," I reply back emphasizing the word friend.

"Y/N I swear to God if you don't get you ass to my apartment in the next hour you will lose your job," Lando said back.

"And you're gonna tell Zak what exactly? 'I want her removed from my team cause she was hanging out with Oscar and I was a jealous twat who couldn't get my dick wet.' Sounds real mature Lando Norris. I will come over later tonight," I tell him finalizing my plan before hanging up on him before he could say anything else.

"I don't understand why you won't make it official," Oscar says with a raised brow making me raise my brow mirroring his actions.

"He's inmature and doesn't know what he wants," I tell Oscar softly climbing back onto the couch so Oscar and I can continue soaking up the sun.

"I just know he's call Max to use his yacht right now to track your ass down," Oscar says with a smirk making me laugh.

"Probably," I reply honestly.

"You ever gonna put him out of his misery and become his?" Oscar asks making me think hard before answering.

"I don't know. Definitely not until he starts respecting my work," I tell Oscar softly making him nod his head.

"I think that's fair. Maybe this weekend will open his eyes to realize how much you do for him. Going above and beyond what is in your job description," Oscar replies back making me smile, happy he understands.

"Hell, I too wouldn't want to share you if you prepared my lunches, made sure I had time allotted for a break, and spent the night in my bed," Oscar says smirking at the last part making me roll my eyes.

Oscar and I had a teasing relationship closer to siblings than lovers and it was refreshing to be close with someone in this crazy life we both live.

"You're an ass for that, Piastri," I say while laughing softly.

We spent the rest of the afternoon tanning and enjoying each others calm presence before we decided to dock and head back to our individual apartments.

"Better not find out I'm gonna be an uncle in 4 to 6 weeks," Oscar says with a smirk across his face making me roll my eyes and close the door to my apartment while Oscar walks the rest of the way to his.

Lando, Oscar and I all live in the same building making it easy to have group dinners or see each other when we are getting bored or lonely.

I hadn't even been back to my own room for 5 minutes when I hear a pounding on my front door making me roll my eyes knowing it could only be one person making such a scene.

"Open the door," I hear Lando say in a sing-song voice being far more menacing than I would prefer.

"What is your damn problem," I snap when I swing open the door making Lando shove his way through the door before taking my neck into his big hands and squeezing choking me slightly while he pushes me against the door.

"I saw you being a little slut. All cuddled up with Oscar in the middle of the water," Lando says getting closer to my face and showing me just how upset he is.

"You know damn well it's not like that," I snap back getting just as angry at him.

"Do I know that though? Cause between fans spying on yall and your own snap story it looks like you were dressed into next to nothing cuddled right up to Oscar's side," Lando scoffs back squeezing my throat a bit tighter making it more difficult to breathe.

"You're ridiculous you know that," I say while gripping his wrist trying to pry his grip off of me. Lando finally releases my neck but quickly grips my hard into a death grip and yanks me through my apartment where he dumps me near the bed.

I was on the floor when Lando situates me onto my knees before he quickly pulls his pants down with his briefs leaving his hard cock to bounce freely between us.

"Don't make me fucking tell you want to do," Lando snaps when I make no move to take him into my mouth,

"You're pathetic," I mutter softly before I take Lando into my mouth. I knew he heard me when his hands were on the back of my head again pushing his whole length into my throat making me gag and instantly start to tear up.

"I'm fucking pathetic? You're the one crying on my cock less than 10 seconds after giving it to you. Bet your fucking pussy is weeping too," Lando says while holding my head in place and brutally fucking into my mouth making me repetitively take him into my mouth. Once Lando has fucked my face for a few seconds he shoves his whole length into my mouth and holding me on his cock for several seconds making me gag and cry around his cock hitting his hips trying to get away from his brutal attack.

Once Lando pulls out of my mouth I yank my head away best as possible while I gasp and cough for air.

"Not so rough," I whisper softly through my hoarse voice.

Lando just pulls me back onto his cock and starts fucking my face again. Still rough but nowhere near as rough as he had been.

“All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it,” Lando grunts while still pumping his cock into my mouth. I can feel my tears have completely soaked my cheeks and my own spit in starting to trail down the front of my neck making me look like a proper used-up whore.

"God, I love destroying you," Lando says smirking when he pulled me off his cock leaving me to heave in heavy breaths while he stared down at my ruined face.

"Look most beautiful when you're wrapped around my cock," Lando whispers with a smirk before softly biting my earlobe making me whimper at the feeling.

Lando helps me to my feet where he quickly pulls the swim suit cover I was wear off leaving me in my bikini I had been wearing. I cringed slightly when Lando was eyeing my bikini.

"Turn around," Lando says roughly making me turn in curiousity. When Lando got a view of my ass he instantly slapped it leaving a large hand print behind.

"For someone who says Oscar and you aren't more than friends you're leaving far too little for his imagination. You think sweet little Oscar could destroy your pussy even half as good as me," Lando says stepping closer to my back making me rest softly against him.

"No Lando, only you. You literally fucking ruined me for anyone else," I cry out in confession. It had been true, ever since Lando and I got involved I hadn't been able to finish with anyone but Lando. Even my trusted vibrator was now useless.

"Oh is that true?" Lando says clearly a smirk laced in his voice.

"Yes, I literally can't even make myself cum anyone," I confess in pure annoyance at the situation.

"I love knowing I ruined you so good you can only cum when I make you," Lando says while turning me back around so I can see his face.

"I hate you," I whisper back.

"That's a fucking lie and we both know it," Lando whispered back getting closer to my mouth before finishing his sentence by kissing my lips.

I whimper into the rough kiss when I feel Lando start pulling at the strings of my bikini leaving me completely bare for Lando's rough hands to continue to explore my body.

When I feel Lando's large hands grip my ass I whimper out that quickly turns into a strangled cry when he roughly lands a slap on my ass.

"That side was jealous," Lando says smirking against my lips.

Lando roughly pulls his shirt off leaving him completely naked before he roughly throws me onto the bed where I bounce a couple times before Lando is gripping onto my foot and pulling me into him where he is kneeling on the ground next to the bed.

My pussy was now at face level with Lando who wastes absolutely no time to pull my clit into his mouth and start eating me out like a starved man.

"Oh fuck Lan," I moan softly when I feel Lando slowly slip two fingers into my pussy.

"Fuck, so fucking sweet," Lando groans before standing up and towering over my body and spitting into my mouth making me gasp in shock.

"Fuck I love when you're like this," Lando groans getting back onto his knees and continuing to eat my pussy out like a starved man. When he puts his fingers back into my pussy he's not nearly as gentle this time. He quickly shoves them in finding my G-spot with no trouble and attacking it.

"Oh my god Lando," I scream out and clench around him in preparation for the orgasm I can feel building in the pit of my stomach.

"Please Lan," I moan when I can feel myself on the edge of cumming. But instead of Lando giving me permission like I thought he would he rips his fingers and mouth away ripping my orgasm away with them.

"Lando what the actual fuck," I heave sitting up slightly only to be pushed back down.

"Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" Lando says with a smirk making me want to slap him across the face. Instead I just clench my hands at my side.

"Lando please," I finally beg out when I calmed down. Lando didn't say anything he just roughly flipped me onto my stomach before he pulled me onto all fours and pushed his dick into me.

Lando gave me no time to adjust, he just quickly started fucking into my tight pussy making me whimper.

"Too big," I gasp when I finally find my voice making Lando speed up his actions on my pussy.

"You can fucking take it," Lando says snapping his hips into mine making me whimper at the hard thrusts.

Lando pulls me up by me hair so he was still fucking into me but my back was now pressed against his chest where he moves his hand from my hair to my neck and giving it a hard squeeze making my eyes tear up again from the choking.

"Close," I gasp in a stranged moan not being able to breathe fully.

"Cum on my cock," Lando roughly states making me instatly start cumming all over his cock.

"Fuck Lando," I moan through my orgasm while Lando squeezes hard on my throat completely cutting my airflow off as I'm cumming only making it that much more intense. When my orgasm ended only then did Lando release my throat making me gasp for air.

"Lando," I scream when he continues to fuck into me as I fall out of his arms and back into doggy position.

"Please Lan, it's too much," I whine losing all fight I once had in my body.

"You can take it, love," Lando tells me softly while slowing his thrusts to let me catch my breath for a second.

"So pretty all fucked out," Lando mumbles before speeding his thrusts up and continuing to fuck into my overused pussy.

"Faster," I beg when I feel another orgasm starting to build up again. This one coming in far faster and stronger than the previous one.

"Cum for me," Lando grunts when he can feel my pussy clenching for another release. I instantly cum all over his cock again barely able to hold my body up anymore. I would have completely fallen into the bed had Lando not been holding me up by the hips.

Lando continues his hard and fast thrusts even after I have come down from my orgasm making me cry out again in overstimulation.

"Slow down," I scream out only making Lando speed up.

“Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl,” Lando grunts out before sending one final thrust into my pussy before I feel his hot cum start splashing my walls letting me know Lando was cumming deep into my pussy.

"Oh Lan," I gasp and fall half onto the bed while my legs dangle over the side. When Lando was slipping out of my pussy he made sure to pull out slowly to make sure to not overstimulate me further.

"Don't leave," I gasp when I watch Lando start retreating into the bathroom making him turn around and lock eyes with me.

"I'm gonna leave you. I'm just gonna grab something to clean you up," Lando tells me softly before disappearing into my bathroom and grabbing a rag before coming back into my room and cleaning my sore pussy up softly.

"Hurts Lan," I whine when he brushes against my sensitive clit with the rough rag.

"I'm sorry," Lando mumbles sheepishly.

I feel Lando observing me while I slowly climb into bed properly getting under my covers and pulling my blanket up to my chin as I watch Lando throw on his boxers before picking up his shirt and softly placing it on me.

"Thanks," I reply softly as Lando climbs into the bed next to me.

"God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you. Now you're sitting here all pretty and blissed out," Lando tells me softly making me smile up at him.

"I don't like the way you dismiss my work," I tell him softly finally opening up about my feelings.

"I could barely survive today, please come to work with me tomorrow," Lando says turning his body towards me so I can look at him.

"Fine, but you better start having some respect for me all the time, not just during post nut clarity," I tell him back making him blush just thinking about what just transpired between us.

"And you owe me a plan B I promised Osc he wouldn't become an uncle in 4 to 6 weeks," I tell Lando making the both of us start laughing.

"Deal, and I promise from now on I promise I'll stop being condescending and undermining you. I realized how much you really do for me. I didn't eat until dinner cause I forgot about a meeting and had no time to grab anything," Lando confesses making me smile and laugh lightly.

"Didn't even realize I was such a pain that you were feeding me too," Lando admits hiding his face in my neck due to embarrassment.

"And I wanna work on us. I wanna build a better friendship between us so one day I can make you mine," Lando says once he pulls his face from my neck.

"I would like that Lando," I admit softly before pulling his face close to mine and giving him a soft kiss.

"I wanna keep doing this though and maybe sometimes not so rough," I tell Lando making him break out into a blushing smile.

"Deal. I would love to spend my time worshipping your body," Lando tells me softly making me turn red.

[teaboot]

Do you think that cis men feel the same way as trans men do? Like with how men get treated by society as being inherently evil and as predators?

I think maybe both cis and trans men experience these issues but it's easier for a trans guy to point it out because he gets to see people so quickly turn on him for being a man while transitioning

oh yeah definitely

I find "meninists" fucking obnoxious, especially as any of their VALID concerns fall under the bracket of feminism, but there does exist a presence of radfems and terfs that are scarily eager to lash out at anything resembling masculine that. Definitely needs to be addressed somehow

Like. There's a mile of middle ground between "Um yeah women have problems, whatever, but what about ME and MY FEELINGS 😢" and "I am genuinely trying my best to be thoughtful and considerate of others, and everything I do is being met with bad-faith interpretations and dismissal"

And I think the best advice I have for anyone else getting bogged down by this is that. like.

If someone is determined to see the worst in you, nothing you can do to prove otherwise will be enough. You will never change that person's mind. They don't want you to change their mind. So like... just focus on you, and keep doing your best, and learn, and know that people determined to find something nasty don't really have an issue with YOU- they have their own experiences and traumas coloring their worldview.

Someone who is determined to see you as a monster will only ever see a monster. So it's better to ask yourself, "would a monster do what I'm doing?". If the answer is yes, take steps to change that. If the answer is no, then it's not about you, and you can give yourself permission to move on.

So... yeah, I imagine cis men probably do feel the way I feel about this sorta thing sometimes.

Except, like. After a lifetime being a girl, living as a girl, fighting for equality as the only girl in a lot of men's spaces, being a feminist girl and an Eldest Daughter girl and calling out the bullshit only to later realize I'm not a girl... and that Im actually mostly a dude, still a feminist... at least when people call me a mysoginist, I know they're talking out their ass

I can kinda see where young men encounter their very first radfems calling themselves feminists and immediately become radicalized right-wing conservatives cause like. If I as a teen thought feminism meant Radfems and Terfs, I'd probably start running too

It's all just so exhausting

Any one group being wholesale grouped as "100% helpless gentle victim" or "100% selfish malevolent monster" is doomed, imo

(Now watch the notes blow up with "this is just 'not all men' rhetoric, lol)

But anyways I hate nuance I hate interpretation I hate implication and symbolism and context and I wish everything in the world was simpler so we could all blow a collective joint together and invent some new soups

[another-punk-trans-woman]

Wishing all doctors a very

PERSCRIBE ME PAINKILLERS PLEASE IM IN AGONY EVERY DAY PLEASE LISTEN TO ME WHEN I SAY IM IN PAIN FOR FUCKS SAKE

Okay, now that I have your attention:

Let's talk about classism and chronic pain, shall we?

I work a very physically demanding job as an automotive technician. In the past year, I've been having more and more issues with the chronic pain I was told would 'work itself out' (direct quote from one of my doctors.)

I've been seeking a diagnosis for a long time now, and each and every 'specialist' or professional has the same thing to say:

"It's because of your job"

And then don't do anything to help me. Then, when I say "Yes, I deal with traditional muscle aches and pains as described by my coworkers, but also have different pain on top of that" They not only continue to refuse help, but go deaf and pretend I didn't say anything.

The 'physical labor causes joint pain in everyone' idea, combined with the stereotype of blue collar workers being 'tough' and able to push through the pain without help means that most doctors won't even be willing to help manage pain, much less look beyond the appearance of the patient to find any further underlying problems. A few months ago, one of my coworkers had a *stroke*, the day after he went to the ER complaining of intermittent chest pain. They told him it was likely he pulled a muscle at work, and didn't bother even hooking him to an EKG.

To make matters worse, labor industries pay isn't great, and insurance is usually even worse. So for every appointment, I am paying out the nose to be told to shut up and that I'm fine.

The absurd notion that blue collar workers are all looking for opioid painkillers (Something a doctor told me right to my face) or are just fine and exaggerating needs to die, before it kills more people.