#this one is just because I think it would be cool | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherrycuppacoups · 3 days ago

Text

Speed Champions 🏁...🏎💨 LN4

summary: when lando norris finds you torn between two LEGO F1 sets, he helps you pick—then sticks around long enough to find out you’re more than just a second favorite.

[word count] 1.6k

author's note: this is my first f1 fic...i really hope yall enjoyed it, the story may seem sloppy cause its my first time writing something like this and its just a random idea that came up. enjoy!

The LEGO store smelled like plastic and childhood nostalgia. Y/N had been standing in the “Speed Champions” aisle for what felt like forever, arms crossed, brows furrowed, lower lip caught between her teeth. In one hand she held the Red Bull F1 car. In the other, the McLaren.

“I can only afford one,” she whispered to herself, as if saying it aloud would magically make the choice easier.

A reward, that’s all this was supposed to be. A little “well done” for surviving her final semester of university and crawling to the finish line of her internship without combusting. Just a small celebration for herself, from herself. Because no one else would. Not her so-called friends who always forgot to invite her. Not the boys who never once asked for her number, only her prettier friend’s. Not even her family who seemed to think “cute” was the most she’d ever be.

Her hands trembled slightly. Maybe she shouldn’t even be here. Maybe this was dumb. A silly plastic car to make up for—

“What’s a fine lady doing in the Speed Champions section?” a voice asked beside her, smooth and accented, with the exact kind of playful confidence that made her freeze.

She turned slowly, cautiously and nearly dropped both boxes. Standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, was Lando Norris.

Lando freaking Norris.

“I—uh—hi?” she blinked, eyes wide. “Just, um… browsing. For the F1 cars.”

He peered at the boxes in her hands, grinning. “McLaren, huh? Excellent choice.”

She laughed nervously, shifting her weight. “I was thinking about it. But I’m torn between it and the Red Bull car.”

“Ahh,” he nodded solemnly, like she was telling him something gravely important. “Tough decision.”

“I know right?” she chuckled, more at ease now. “I mean, I can’t buy both. I just finished my internship, and this is like… my little treat. You know, for surviving.”

“Fair enough.” His eyes sparkled. “Honestly, you deserve both.”

She snorted. “Tell that to my bank account.”

There was a beat of silence, comfortable and warm. She could feel him watching her but not in the way people usually did, eyes glossing over her like she was background noise but more like he was really looking.

“I’m Lando, by the way,” he said, casually.

She blinked again. “I know.”

He laughed at that, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Of course you do.”

She lowered her voice, nervous again. “Sorry if I’m being weird.”

“You’re not,” he said quickly, sincere. “I like weird. Honestly, watching you try to decide was the highlight of my day. Your thinking face is adorable.”

Her breath caught.

No one ever called her adorable and meant her, not something she said or did.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nope. Visiting a friend. Well… technically visiting. More like killing time while she’s out with her other friends.”

He tilted his head. “Sounds… familiar.”

She gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, I’m usually the last person to know plans anyway.”

“Then those people suck,” Lando said simply. “You seem cool. More than cool, actually.”

She looked down, cheeks flushing. “Thanks. I guess I’m just used to being… background. Not the kind of girl guys notice.”

He stepped a little closer. “I’m a guy. I noticed.”

Her breath hitched. Something in her chest fluttered.

He smiled, like it was no big deal. “So. Red Bull or McLaren?”

“…McLaren,” she whispered.

“Excellent choice! Max could wait he has 4 freaking championships already plus we are surely wining the championship this year” he grinned, taking the Red Bull car from her hand and putting it back on the shelf for her.

"Want me to buy it for you?" He asked casually.

Her eyes widened. “What? No! I can’t—”

“Not trying to be weird, I swear,” he said, hands up. “Just… call it my contribution to your final semester celebration. And maybe a thank-you for supporting us! The least thing I could do.”

She smiled slowly, unsure, but touched.

“…Okay,” she said. “But only if I get to say thank you with coffee?”

He beamed. “It’s a date.”

The box crinkled softly in her arms as they wandered away from the Speed Champions section, Y/N still not quite believing this was happening.

She clutched the McLaren LEGO set to her chest like it was sacred, her brain still trying to process that Lando Norris. Yes, the actual F1 driver Lando Norris had just helped her pick it out. And now he was casually strolling next to her like it was normal.

“So,” he said, eyes scanning the shelves, “since I saved you from the heartbreak of choosing the wrong car, think you could help me now?”

She looked up, surprised. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he grinned. “I need to pick a LEGO set for Max's daughter P. She’s turning six, smarter than I am, and brutally honest. If it’s boring, she’ll tell me.”

“Well, no pressure at all,” she laughed. “What’s she into?”

“Everything chaotic,” he said. “Dinosaurs, glitter, cats, treehouses, science experiments… basically a one-girl tornado in sparkly sneakers.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She is,” he agreed, fondness softening his tone. “But I’m losing my title as favorite uncle. This is my comeback attempt.”

Y/N studied the shelves thoughtfully. “Hmm… okay, how about this one?” She pointed to a colorful treehouse set with a zipline, mini figures, and a cat in a hammock. “Lots of chaos potential. There’s even a popsicle cart.”

Lando examined the box with exaggerated seriousness. “A zipline and a popsicle cart? You’re spoiling her.”

“She deserves it,” Y/N shrugged playfully. “Everyone does.”

He glanced at her sideways, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Including you?”

Before she could answer, her phone buzzed with a soft notification. She instinctively pulled it out and instantly regretted it. Another text from her friends bailing out on her cause apparently the car was full and there wasn't any space left. Nothing new.

However Lando noticed something.

Bright red case. Ferrari.

Big yellow 55 on the back.

And, of course, her lock screen? A candid shot of Carlos Sainz mid-laugh at the podium.

Lando squinted at it, eyebrows raising. “Wait… is that a Ferrari case?”

Her face flushed instantly. “Oh… yeah.”

“And is your lock screen—hold on—is that Carlos?”

“I—yeah, um—he’s my favorite driver,” she mumbled.

He mock-gasped. “You were debating between Red Bull and McLaren, and you’re out here walking around with a full Ferrari starter pack? What happened to loyalty?”

“I already have the Ferrari Speed Champion set,” she replied quickly, defensive but laughing. “It was the first one I bought when I started watching.”

He gave her a mischievous look. “So I’m your rebound after Carlos.”

She groaned, laughing. “No! You’re not—okay, fine. You’re my second favorite.”

He put a hand to his chest like he’d been stabbed. “The betrayal.”

“But!” she added, holding up a finger. “You are my mom’s favorite. Like… hardcore.”

Lando blinked. “Your mom?”

“She’s obsessed,” Y/N grinned. “She heard your name once during a race, said you sounded like a character in a teen rom-com, and now she never misses your interviews.”

He burst out laughing. “A teen rom-com?”

“She has a theory that you’d be the main character’s charming, funny best friend who’s secretly the love interest.”

“Your mom sounds like a genius.”

“She really is,” Y/N said sincerely. “She told me if I ever met you, I better get an autograph and a photo. She won’t forgive me otherwise.”

He grinned wide. “I’d hate to disappoint her.”

Y/N looked up, still holding her McLaren LEGO box, her heart unexpectedly full.

He glanced at her phone again. “Okay, so Carlos is your number one, and I’m runner-up. But hey… silver still gets a podium.”

She giggled. “Are you seriously turning this into an F1 metaphor?”

“Absolutely,” he smirked. “And I’m fully committed to moving up to P1.”

lando posted a story

ynusername posted a story

fin.

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando x y/n #lando x you #f1 x you #f1 x female reader

804 notes · View notes

mishappeningss · 1 day ago

Note

Driver!yn would definitely tell people to not overconsumption on stuff and ALWAYS think twice before buying and her having a list of "brands" she doesn't want to do due to reasons (she knows the issues and stuff which is why she's mindful and reminding her PR)

yes !!! she’d 100% be the type of speak out about overconsumption. she’s super intentional with what she wears and promotes. she’s hot and conscious — it’s what makes her powerful.

more about driver!yn

She scrolled through the email on her phone, thumb hovering the forwarded brand proposal her PR team had just sent to her. It was shiny, aggressive, and loud — a seven-figure campaign from a global fast fashion house.

They wanted exclusivity. They wanted her face. They wanted her speed and her name and her cool-girl effect. They wanted her to sell things that didn’t sit right on her skin.

“Delete it, please.” She said, without looking up.

Across the room, her publicist raised a brow. “Are you sure? I mean it’s—“

“I know what it is.” She set her phone down on the table gently. “But I’ve read too much about what they do behind the scenes. The way they pretend to be green but can’t even answer basic sustainability questions.”

There was a pause. “…you want me to add them to your blacklist?”

“They’re already on it,” she said, sipping her coffee like it wasn’t a million dollar decision.

In interviews, they always asked about her style. Who are you wearing? What’s your process? Where do you shop?

And YN, every single time, smiled politely and gave the same answer.

“Wear what makes you feel you. But please don’t feel like you need to buy everything I wear. Be thoughtful, be intentional.”

People called it refreshing. Editors called it radical. Her fans called it real.

There were stories about her. Quiet ones. Stories about the time she refused to wear a certain brand to a red carpet because they didn’t pay garment workers. The time she called a team meeting to double-check the ethics of a potential collab.

The time she chose to partner with a tiny upcycled designer in Portugal instead of a luxury giant, because “her story meant more.” She didn’t post about it. Didn’t tweet some moral high ground.

She just did it.

She didn’t think she was doing anything extraordinary.

To her, it just made sense. Why wear something beautiful if it came from ugly hands?

She liked clothes. She liked campaigns. But she liked sleeping at night more.

And so, the list stayed in her phone — unshared, unspoken, updated often.

479 notes · View notes

bn-stands-for-book-nerd · 3 days ago

Text

Hey. just realized I forgott to add my own :

I practice stage fencing. I've been at it for more than ten years now. And I've been thrown out of a club after a few sessions two years back.

In this club, there where different social classes within members. I shit you not. It was a medieval club, and some people had been knighted and others not. And, as a newcomer I didn't get to sit with the knights at the camp we made a weekend, even tho my side of the table was empty. They just assumed I would stay alone.

I also smoldered when their guru (he really was one) denigrated a famous fencing master - Michel Palvadeau. The asshole called him a "lower class" master because he would teach anyone. Little did he know Michel is someone I know and like. Not to mention, he's litteraly french stage fencing's godfather. The dude raised a generation of fencer and his pupils won gold at the world championship. I volunteered at France's championship and he knew everyone.

All this ended when I finally let the guru know I thought he was an idiot. Primarily because his way of doing things was unnecessarily dangerous. He waited for me at the start of a training and told me they "reffused my application" (lol) at the club and gave me back my money.

I went my way and still laugh to this day.

I'm not even the only one thinking this : The ex president of my curent club had a talk with him on a shooting set. The idiot told my friend his club was the largest in the region. My friend asked him "how many members ?" Dude flexed and proudly told "32" my friend smiled and answered "50". Dude sulked in a corner for two days.

Worst thing is : some cool people are in this club. But they get held back by his "we VS the world" mindset. Hope the free themselves eventually.

LMFAO

148K notes · View notes

m3mento-m0rii · 2 days ago

Note

hello !! I have a request for Mystery Saja (if that’s okay). I was thinking that when the Saja boys first came to the human world, Mystery would be the one having the hardest time. All of the lights and loud noises prolly getting to the poor fella. And the other Saja boys try to help but it’s really no use.

Until the bright happy-go-lucky sunshine reader comes around and helps Mystery out.(Yk how Myst barked at that fan at the signing ? Yeah that wasn’t the first or the last time he barked at a person he just doesn’t know what else to do) The reader is kind of oblivious but just super nice and empathetic. Mystery needs so love hardcore </3 I can just imagine the rest of the Saja boys I’m shocked that some human girl tamed the beast into some house let

(this request is optional ofc take care !!!)

New Soul—

1.5k words; Mystery Saja x reader Masterlist | Requests open!

It's hard for Mystery to handle being in the daylight again when he's spent so much time accepting the dark. Lucky for him, some merciful being gave him you.

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting, anon! Okay so I tried my best with this but I struggled a little after I got through the first half. Still, I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading!

. . .

Honestly, earth was more hell than the underworld was.

That was something it didn’t take long for Mystery to decide when he and the Saja Boys first surfaced. It was night time. Okay, that was fine. The sky was cloudy, the coolness of the air was foreign to him.

But the light. How could humans enjoy the obnoxious LEDs decorating store fronts? It hurt his eyes, and he immediately tried to avert them. The only problem? Seoul was full of them.

Which is how he ended up with Jinu’s pink-tinted sunglasses, staring dead at the side-walk, being guided down the street by the other Saja Boys.

They honestly didn’t know what to do. They were just as new as he was, but . . . they didn’t suffer from it the way Mystery did. They tried to help as best as they could, taking quieter paths as Jinu navigated to their dorms, though there was only so much they could do. They didn’t have the proper resources to handle it, but they tried their best.

Mystery couldn’t wait to go to sleep.

Except that was the LAST thing he should have wished for. Because now he had to deal with the sunlight, and he couldn’t tell which was worse; the harsh lights of nighttime Seoul or the colors that came with daylight. He couldn’t even stare at the sidewalk, because the reflection of the sunlight upon it made him flinch.

Already starting off, it was a no good, very bad day.

Then he lost the other Saja Boys in the crowd. Too much was going on. They were supposed to be performing Soda Pop today.

What immaculate timing.

As Mystery attempted to remember the directions Jinu was giving, more and more things started to phase him.

The sun is bright. People are everywhere, people are talking. He can’t make out what anyone is saying. A car honks as it turns the corner he was about to reach. There’s a bell on the door of the shop next to him. It’s playing some horrific, beat up jingle. Footsteps. He stops, because he can’t think.

Mystery can’t recognize his surroundings. All the palettes were oversaturated and it made his brain throb. This is purgatory. He’s sorry for what he did to deserve this. He could smell too many different scents at a time. Gimbap. Some woman’s artificially sugary perfume. The stench of a teenage boy who hadn’t discovered deodorant yet. Dizzying. Nauseating.

The last straw was some rando pushing him out of the way.

“Hey! Weirdo, this is the sidewalk. Get stepping or move!”

Mystery snapped.

It was the only thing he could do.

“RARGH ARGH ARGRR—” He barked, his nose scrunching up as he faced the rude individual. Molars gnashing, muscles tight, nails digging into his palms. Everyone in the immediate vicinity stopped.

To stare at him.

“What is he doing?”

“Did . . . did he just bark?”

“What the hell are they putting in the water these days . . .”

“He needs help.”

At least they weren’t in his personal space anymore.

Mystery slinked into the shadows of a nearby alley, dropping to the ground once he was out of view. He took a long, slow breath as his head lolled to the side, trying to adjust his hair to hide the sunlight again.

It’s too much.

He feels the energy shift around him slightly, and he tenses up. Slowly, his head raises from his knees to find more color.

Not bright, eye-catching, abundant color; soft. Effective. Something more tolerable than that tacky sherbet ensemble he saw a moment ago.

Your smile was just as kind to him as your dress. Gentle, welcoming, unaware of the horrors in the world, or rather immune to it. You crouched in front of him, observing him for a moment.

“Hey . . .” you whispered, and Mystery easily decided he liked your voice. It was . . . soothing. You could tell he was a bit overstimulated. “Are you okay?”

Mystery blinked, even if you couldn’t see his eyes. You took off your headphones, offering them to him.

He hesitated, taking the device from you and mimicking the position over his ears. The world seemed to shift back into a manageable focus, and he perked up a little. Your smile brightened, and you stuck your hand out to him.

“That’s better, right? Noise-cancelling headphones. The environment can be a bit much for me, too. My name is (Y/N). What’s yours?”

(Y/N) . . . you certainly had a lot to say. Mystery’s fingers slowly brushed your palm, not in a handshake, just a touch. Your skin was tender, warm. “Mystery.”

“Mystery? That’s cool, I haven’t heard that one before! I like your tattoos,” she pointed at the lightning-like markings on his wrist, and he tensed.

You didn’t seem to notice.

“. . . Thank you.”

“Well, Mystery, I had some shopping to do in the square, if you want to come along.”

So Mystery found himself following you down the street, hand-in-hand, a skip in your step.

You were so . . . happy. Not in a bad way, just in a way he wasn’t used to. Finally, there was something he wanted to get used to.

Before you could get to the square, you came across the other Sajas. They were asking around for Mystery like they had lost their dog (they had), describing his appearance to strangers before Baby wordlessly pointed him out.

He’s oddly chill for the way they saw him last. They eyed you suspiciously, gazes dropping to your entwined hands. You did not have a care in the world.

Mystery knew he had to go. He tried to offer your headphones back, and you only shook your head, pulling out a pair of earbuds. “You need them more than me. I always carry an extra pair just in case.”

Instead, you offered him a blue post-it with about ten digits on it, give or take. “Bye, Mystery!” And then you were gone.

The boys blinked owlishly, Romance in particular disbelief.

“. . . What did I miss?”

» ⊱◈⊰

Ever since then, you have always been found at Mystery’s side. It was a mutual latch; you taught him about lots of things—food, stories, why things existed, methods and resources to try to help with the noise of the environment—and he listened.

You were the only sunshine he could really tolerate.

Slowly, he came to terms with the surface again. But he didn’t let go of you. He liked having you around for every moment, even the short, quiet ones. Not because he needed you anymore, but because he wanted you. Wanted your smiles and your time, wanted those gentle hands of yours and the way you’d run them through his hair to calm him or trace the patterns on his arms.

You didn’t question him, not the way others did. You let him exist. Didn’t blink twice when the light warped around his skin, or the strange shape of his nails when they grew a little. Not the way his teeth might poke out a bit, or his slightly distorted reflection in the mirror.

He wasn’t even sure if you saw these things. It only made him like you more.

It was another day at the Saja dorms, and Mystery was lying on your lap as you explained the plot to some show. He was listening, he really was, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp . . .

His eyes drooped a little, and he couldn’t help but melt into you more. You giggled, finding the behavior cute in his own Mystery way.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re part dog,” you decided, poking his cheek softly. Mystery hummed.

“You don’t know any better,” he muttered, a little smile forming. To be fair, he was right. You didn’t know that, though.

Instead, you grinned, going back to yapping about your show.

And Mystery was content with this for a while—simple touches, the fabric of your shirt against his nose. Your voice.

Until Romance and Abby walked through the door, drowning out your words with their chatter and laughter. They hadn’t even noticed you both on the couch, too busy musing about some flash mob they had dealt with. Then Baby was looking for a snack, rustling through loud bags of chips and watching some video, Mystery’s peace was disrupted once more.

He felt a tick in his head. The air around him sparked a little.

But before he could let out more than a sharp snarl (drawing the attention of the others), your hand pressed against his lips gently as you hushed him.

“. . . Mystery, you can’t hiss at people,” you shook your head matter-of-factly. “It’s not nice.”

Much to the boys’ surprise, Mystery . . . stopped?

He huffed, sinking further into your lap with a pout. “That’s the point.”

You pushed your fingers back into his hair to try and cheer him up, leaning back into the couch. “There’s better ways to express your feelings, though.”

Mystery said nothing, curling into you more.

The other Sajas blanked.

He was listening??

“I guess it has to be the right extrovert to adopt an introvert,” Abby whispered loudly, glancing at Romance. Baby shrugged.

“That’s his handler.”

“Is he . . . purring?”

“Shh. Just leave it alone.”

Mystery nuzzled into the warmth of your palm, letting out a sigh of relief.

Finally. Back to his peace.

» ⊱◈⊰

A/N: Aaa okay so I finished it! I hope you liked it? See you soon!

—Captain Morii 🌤️

Morii's Business Class: @abby-himbo-truther @kpopmultistans

#kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpdh fanfic #mystery saja #mystery x reader #mystery saja x reader #saja boys x reader

340 notes · View notes

pitlanepeach · 2 days ago

Text

White Mercedes | Chapter Eleven

Oscar Piastri x Anneliese Wolff (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — It was just supposed to be a game. Once a month. No names. No questions. A few hours where she could surrender fully—because everywhere else in her life, she was drowning.

But Oscar Piastri was all quiet power and brutal precision. He didn’t ask who she was, and she didn’t offer. Not her name. Not the harsh reality of her past. Definitely not the part about being Toto Wolff’s daughter.

But it’s not a game anymore. It’s a secret with teeth. And when it all comes crashing down, she doesn’t know if it’s her heart or his career that’ll break first.

Warnings — BDSM themes, realistic and flawed characters, Dom!Oscar, Sub!OFC, slow burn romance, lots of smut (obviously), strong language, drug-addiction, suicidal thoughts/ideation, past-suicide attempts, vaguely mentioned past sexual assault.

Notes — Booooo this guy suckssssss!!!!!!

Feed the writer with your reactions/thoughts/feelings!<3

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The house was too clean.

Ana had been pacing for the better part of two hours, stopping only to wipe down surfaces that didn’t need wiping, rearrange throw pillows that were already symmetrical, and check the time on her phone like that would somehow bring them back faster. Over and over. Again and again. She couldn’t sit. Couldn’t rest.

She was barefoot, her steps soft and silent against the hardwood, and every so often she’d pause at the front window, heart crawling up into her throat, scanning the empty street for signs of the car.

She’d promised herself she was going to tell them tonight.

All of it.

Both relapses. How she’d been sober for eight months, not twelve. Every pill she’d hidden, every lie she’d told with a steady hand and a carefully assembled smile. Not out of malice. Out of fear. Out of survival. Out of a lifetime of thinking the truth had to come second to keeping people around.

But if she was going to tell Oscar the truth—really tell him—then it had to start here. With the people who had loved her before and after the worst of it. With the ones who still called her daughter.

She couldn’t be two people anymore. Couldn’t keep polishing one version while the other one rotted under the surface. The split was killing her.

So she was going to tell them. Susie. Her father. Sit down across from them, hold their hands, and explain—not as Ana the Problem, or Ana the Tabloid Tragedy—but Ana the Person. Ana the Daughter. Ana the Girl Who Was Trying.

Headlights swept across the driveway like a wave crashing.

Her stomach twisted so violently she felt it in her throat.

She heard the car doors slam. Heard the sharp, familiar beep of it locking. Her heart beat so loud in her ears she almost missed the small voice that came a second later.

“Ana! Ana, I saw the helicopters!”

She was already moving. Already at the door. Already opening it.

Jack launched himself into her arms, and Ana caught him mid-run, spinning him once, twice. A shaky laugh escaped her lips, wet with emotion she barely kept from flooding her eyes. She kissed his forehead, his hair, his temple, like a woman starved.

“I saw, little dragon,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “You looked so cool in your little headset. So professional. Just like Daddy.”

He beamed, cheeks flushed from excitement and the night air. “I waved at the camera to say hello to you. Twice!”

“I know,” she said, smiling through the crack in her chest. “I saw that too.”

And then she looked up.

And saw her father’s face.

Not Susie’s—Susie was a step behind, bag slung over one shoulder, expression unreadable. But Toto—her papa—stood like he’d been hollowed out and filled with something cold.

His jaw was tight. His shoulders high. His eyes unreadable in a way that frightened her more than anger ever could.

Ana’s stomach dropped like an elevator with the cables cut.

“What?” she asked. The word barely made it past her lips. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer. Just opened the front door the rest of the way, letting Susie step through, setting her bag down gently. Too gently. Like anything louder might break the room.

“Jack,” Toto said quietly, not looking at her, “Can you go wash your hands upstairs before dinner, bitte? Thoroughly.”

Jack paused, brows furrowing at the sudden shift in tone.

“Why?” he asked, cautious. “Not dirty.”

“Just go, sweetheart,” Susie said softly, gently steering him toward the stairs with a hand on his back. “Please.”

Jack lingered. Looked at Ana. Then back at Toto. Something in him sensed it—the shift in the air. The weight in the room. But he went, dragging his feet just a little, the thud of him climbing the stairs echoing far too loud.

The moment he turned the corner, Ana turned back.

“What happened?” she asked again, firmer now. Her throat tightened. “Is someone hurt? Did—?”

Susie let out a breath, short and weary. “Ana—”

“Don’t ‘Ana’ me. Just tell me. Please.”

Toto finally looked at her.

And she knew.

She knew.

Even before his hand moved to his coat pocket. Before he pulled out his phone.

The dread was a living thing inside her.

“Your brother,” he said, each word clipped and cold, “gave an interview. An hour-long podcast. It went live during the race.”

Ana blinked. “What?”

Her skin went cold. Her lungs shrank, suddenly too small for breath.

“What… what did he say?”

Toto didn’t answer. Just unlocked his phone, tapped the screen, turned it toward her.

She heard Nate’s voice before she saw the title.

“…I mean, we all want her to be okay, obviously. She’s my sister, you know? But it’s like—how many times are you supposed to believe the recovery story when the relapses keep happening? At some point, it’s not a comeback. It’s just who she is. Ana’s always been a bit of a loose cannon. The one we all had to keep an eye on…”

She didn’t flinch.

She shattered.

Her chest clenched. Her vision blurred. Her ears roared with white noise.

“He didn’t—he wouldn’t—” she gasped, searching their faces, looking for something, anything, that said this wasn’t real. That she was misunderstanding.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Susie said, her voice shaking with barely-suppressed rage. “He… he talked about everything. The overdoses. The hospitalisations. He gave the names of the clinics. The months you were here. He made it sound like you weren’t even recovered—that’s why you’re never seen in public anymore.”

Ana’s legs gave out.

She caught herself on the armrest of the couch, barely able to breathe, shaking from the inside out. “But I—None of that is true! I don’t understand—”

“I do not know why he has done this,” Toto said tightly, his voice heavy with fury. “But I am going to fix it. I need you to hear that, maus. I am not going to let this slide.”

She looked at him, trembling.

“I—but he—he’s my brother. I know he hates me, I know he resents me, but—he knows what it was like. He knows. How could he—?”

“Yes, honey,” Susie said, quietly. “He knows. That’s what makes it worse. He didn’t misunderstand. He didn’t guess. He gave it to them. Every last piece of you.”

Ana choked on a sob. Covered her mouth with her hand as the tears came, fast and sharp and unstoppable.

“But I’m doing good. I am! I go to my meetings and I go to yoga and I eat vegetables all the time. I’m trying. I’m trying to hard. I’m a good girl and I—“ She cut herself off with a sob.

Susie knelt beside her, brushing back her hair with shaking hands.

“I know, baby,” she said. “I know you are.”

Ana curled in on herself, her arms wrapped tight across her ribs, as if she could hold all her pieces in place.

Because it had happened again.

She hadn’t even opened her mouth.

And she’d already been reduced to damage.

—

Jack was already in his pyjamas when Ana came into his room—soft navy cotton covered in little racing cars, one of which had clearly been meant to resemble a Mercedes, but was just different enough to dodge any kind of official licensing.

He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, clutching his stuffed Komodo dragon by the neck, his little brows furrowed in a frown too serious for a five-year-old. His eyes darted up the moment she entered. “You were crying,” he said bluntly.

Ana froze in the doorway. “What makes you say that?”

“Your face is all…” He mimed big tears, dragging his palms down his cheeks. “Pink. Like it gets when we watch the horse movie.”

She exhaled, managing a laugh that sounded mostly human. “You caught me.”

He tilted his head, frowning deeper. “Why?”

Ana walked over and sat beside him, smoothing the crumpled comforter and brushing his curls off his forehead. “Just a grown-up thing. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Is it because of the thing that was making daddy angry on the way home?”

Ana hesitated.

Even at five, Jack didn’t miss much.

“Kind of,” she admitted softly. “But it’s going to be okay.”

He looked up at her with wide, uncertain eyes. “Did you do something bad?”

That landed like a stone in her chest.

Ana swallowed, forcing her voice to stay level. “A long time ago, I did some really bad things. But I’m trying to be better now. So sometimes, when people talk about the bad things, it makes me sad.”

Jack was quiet for a moment.

Then, “I did something bad last week. I broke Daddy’s favourite cup, but I didn’t tell anybody. I hid all the broken pieces in the garden.”

Ana blinked, stunned into silence.

“And I still get sad about it,” he added gravely.

Her throat tightened. “That… daddy wouldn’t have been mad at you for that.”

“I know.” He snuggled closer to her side, dragon in hand. “Can you still read the book?”

“Always,” she said, kissing his temple. “Every single night.”

Ana pulled the book from the shelf—Zog and the Flying Doctors, his current favourite—and launched into it with her full range of silly voices: the bumbling knight, the snooty king, the bossy princess. Jack giggled through every page turn, and she let herself fall into the rhythm of the story, the way his small body slowly grew heavy with sleep, his breaths stretching longer.

By the final page, he was out cold.

Ana sat there for a while, just watching him.

A tiny body. A steady rhythm. Unburdened.

Eventually, she kissed Jack’s forehead, pulled the blanket over his shoulders, and quietly crept out.

The moment she reached the top of the stairs, the energy shifted.

She heard her father’s voice—low and sharp, slicing through the quiet. “I don’t care if he’s her blood, he violated every single clause in that contract. You’re telling me his NDA doesn’t extend to private family matters? Bullshit. You’ve seen the paperwork. You drafted the paperwork—”

Susie was at the kitchen table, laptop open, several windows of browser tabs and email threads overlapping. She had her reading glasses on, which only came out when she had a headache. Her jaw was tight, one hand clenched around a mug of coffee

Ana didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

She just stood in the doorway, silent, watching it all unfold.

Another storm that bore her name, whether she wanted it or not.

Her father’s voice carried on in the other room, anger climbing in waves, edged with the distinct tone he saved for strategy meetings and courtrooms.

Susie was typing with short, quick strokes, pausing only to glare at her screen.

Neither of them saw her standing there.

And Ana didn’t know what to say.

Because she hadn’t lit the match this time.

But somehow, everything was still burning.

—

The fire crackled low in the grate, amber light flickering across the pale blue walls of the family room. The house had fallen quiet—Jack asleep upstairs, her father finally off the phone, Susie reading somewhere, trying to wind herself down with a paperback she’d borrowed from Ana’s bookshelf.

And Ana sat alone on the edge of the couch, elbows on her knees, staring blankly into the fire.

The warmth didn’t reach her. Not really.

Her fingers curled around each other, wringing quietly. A quiet tremor had taken up residence in her hands, barely visible but stubborn, like her nerves had been set to a new, unbearable frequency.

The silence felt heavy. Full of breath she hadn’t taken yet.

It wasn’t just the betrayal. Wasn’t even just the shame.

It was the realisation—the creeping, nauseating dread—that the world was going to be looking at her again.

And worse than that.

Oscar might see it.

The thought hit her so hard she flinched.

He might see it.

He might already know.

The interview had been public for hours. That was enough time for clips to circulate. For soundbites to be posted to TikTok. For Twitter—God, X, whatever it was now—to drag her name from the digital grave she’d buried it in. The internet had always loved a scandal, and her past made for excellent entertainment.

She’d scrubbed her digital footprint after that last stint in rehab. Erased what she could. Deleted every trace of who she’d been. Her father had hired entire legal teams to threaten lawsuits, force retractions, and buy silence. Eventually, it had worked. The tabloids got bored of the lifeless story. People forgot.

And she became invisible.

It had been a relief at the time.

To be forgotten.

To be able to just… exist.

But now—now her brother had dragged her corpse into the light, and the internet would dig.

They’d find everything.

And Oscar—

Oscar, who had looked at her like she was whole, even when she’d felt like little more than shrapnel wrapped in skin.

He might look at his phone tonight. Might open Instagram, or Twitter, or TikTok. Might see her name trending—her face. Old photos, even older videos. Might hear Nate’s voice. Hear those words: “relapse,” “heroin,” “loose cannon.”

Her stomach twisted so hard she nearly doubled over.

Because she hadn’t told him yet.

And now the world might do it for her—with none of the softness.

She was exposed. Completely.

No armour. No filter. No way to take it back.

Her nails dug into the fabric of the couch.

If he saw it—if that’s how he found out—what would he think?

What would he feel?

Would he hate her for keeping it from him?

Would he think she was weak? Untrustworthy?

Would he walk away before she even had the chance to explain?

Or worse—would he pity her?

Ana exhaled shakily and dropped her head into her hands.

The fireplace crackled behind her.

Outside, a branch scraped across a window.

And inside her chest, the shame clawed up her throat, raw and acidic.

Because for all the times she’d clawed her way back to the surface—for all the strength and sobriety and hard-won quiet—she still didn’t know how to look someone in the eye and not flinch at the idea of being fully known.

She wasn’t ready for this.

Not again.

Not like this.

—

Her fingers hovered over the screen for too long.

Her thumb trembled just slightly, barely enough to see—unless you were her. Unless you’d lived inside that body, with its flickering panic and its thousand unspoken regrets.

The phone screen reflected her face in the dim hallway light.

She didn’t look like herself.

Eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Cheeks blotchy. Lips chewed raw. Hair tangled at her temples where she’d been tugging at it without realising.

She looked like a girl unraveling.

And maybe she was.

But still, her thumb moved.

Pressed the green button.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

She held her breath so tightly her lungs ached.

“Hey…” His voice. Soft. Tentative. Confused. Then again, with the barest thread of warmth, “Hey, pretty girl. You—Is everything okay?”

Ana’s throat locked.

It was the first time she’d ever called him.

Not texted. Not sent a voice note.

Called.

“Hi,” she managed, but it came out cracked and weak.

She heard the shift of him on the other end, maybe sitting up straighter, maybe pushing a door closed. The rustle of fabric. The stillness between breaths. “What’s going on?”

Not defensive. Not frustrated. Just concerned. Listening.

She swallowed, hard. Her whole body was trembling now, a tight hum of adrenaline under her skin.

Okay.

No accusations. No anger.

He hadn’t seen it.

He didn’t know.

“No,” she said. “I—I mean, not really, no.”

A beat of silence. Then his tone changed—low, focused, more serious. “Anneliese? What’s going on?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to ground herself in the pain, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped.“I need to ask you something,” she said, the words tumbling out like she had no control over them. “I know it’s selfish and insane and I have no right to demand anything from you, but I need you not to go—I need you to not go online for a little while.”

A pause. “What?”

“Please, Oscar, just—don’t check Instagram, or Twitter, or TikTok. Don’t look at your explore page, don’t scroll. Please, please don’t. Not until I see you.”

“Ana,” he said, slower now, steadier, but more concerned. “What are you talking about? You’re freaking me out.”

She let out a broken sound—half-sob, half-laugh. “I know. I know I am. But I just—something’s happened. Something bad. And I need to be the one to tell you. Please let me be the one to tell you.”

He didn’t speak, but she could almost feel his breath on the other end of the line. “It’s about you?” he asked finally, voice quiet.

“I—” she whispered, with a hitched breath. “Yes. I mean—yes, but not in the way you think. It’s about me. My past. Every ugly, awful part. My brother—he went on a podcast. Told them everything. Named names. Details.”

Oscar exhaled, the kind of breath people let out when they didn’t know what to say yet.

“I didn’t know he was going to do it,” she said, voice cracking. “I knew he hated me, but I had no idea it went that deep. But now it’s everywhere. Or—it will be. Soon. I don’t know how long I have. I just—I needed to get to you first.”

She could hear him sit, could hear the faint scrape of a chair, the hollow sound of space around him. Like he was trying to hold the weight of this before it landed. “You’re safe?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes,” she said quickly. “I’m safe. I haven’t—I’m okay. But I need you to hear it from me, and I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I—I’m begging you. I’m begging, Oscar. Please.”

There was another pause.

And then he exhaled and said, “Okay.”

She blinked. “Okay?”

“I won’t go online. I won’t look.”

“Okay.” Her voice was shaking. “Okay—Thank you. I’ll send you my address. You can come as soon as you land in Monaco. I’ll be here. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll answer anything. Just—please don’t look, and if you do—Just… forgive me. Please, Oscar.”

He was quiet. Then, gently, “I’ll be back in Monaco in a few hours. I’ll come to you.”

Her eyes flooded again.

The tears came heavier this time, her whole face hot and cold all at once.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words like glass on her tongue.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Oscar said.

She nodded, one hand pressed to her mouth to keep herself from sobbing into the phone.

“I’ll come to you,” he repeated, firmer now. “I promise. As soon as I land.”

And Ana didn’t doubt him.

Not even for a second.

—

Oscar lowered the phone slowly, like it might burn him.

The call ended, but the aftershocks hadn’t. His pulse was still hammering behind his ribs, loud in his ears, and his grip on the device was too tight, like he didn’t trust his own hands to let go.

Across the hotel suite, Lando was sitting frozen on the edge of the armchair, his own phone forgotten in his lap, his jaw slack.

Oscar finally glanced over. Winced. “You heard that?”

Lando blinked. “Mate,” he said slowly, like he was trying to work out what planet they were on. “You didn’t exactly whisper.”

Oscar exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. The TV hummed softly in the background.

Lando shook his head, incredulous. “Was that—was that your—are you seeing her?”

Oscar didn’t answer.

Lando’s eyebrows lifted. “Holy fuck. You are.”

Oscar rubbed his jaw. “Don’t, Lando.”

Lando sat up straighter. “Are you seriously gonna wait until you get to Monaco to find out what’s going on? Mate, I’m pretty sure I know what she’s talking about—everyone’s talking, the whole bloody paddock, it’s everywhere already—”

“I said don’t.” Oscar snapped it this time. His voice was sharp, cutting, rougher than he intended. “Don’t tell me.”

Lando blinked, taken aback. “Alright, alright. I won’t. Jesus.”

Oscar stood, restless, hands on his hips now, pacing a little like the movement might help. It didn’t. His chest felt tight. His brain wouldn’t stop rewinding the sound of Ana’s voice—small, scared, like she was holding herself together with thread.

“I promised her,” he said, quieter now. “She asked me not to go looking. Let her be the one to tell me. And I said I wouldn’t.”

Lando watched him, something like concern softening the line of his mouth. “You like her that much?”

“I don’t know,” Oscar admitted. “I don’t know. But I promised, so.”

Another pause.

Lando sighed. “Fuck, man. This is—”

Oscar ran both hands down his face. “Yeah. I know.”

Lando picked up his phone again, not unlocking it, just turning it over in his hands. “I won’t tell you,” he said eventually. “Not if you’re serious about this. But just… prepare yourself, alright?”

Oscar looked at him.

And in Lando’s expression—something serious, almost protective—he saw it.

Whatever this was, whatever had happened…

It wasn’t small.

But Anneliese had begged him.

And he didn’t think he’d ever be able to deny that girl anything—

Not when she begged.

—

@/f1hotseat

not to be dramatic but anneliese wolff is my favourite niche F1 interest because wdym some of the new dts era fans don’t know about her lore lmao

@/gossipgrid

nate wolff went on a podcast and literally told the internet every dirty detail about anneliese wolff’s addiction…… is anyone else feeling kinda grossed out by the audacity of men right now???

@/racinginred

i don’t even LIKE anneliese wolff but what nate did is low. he literally detailed her overdoses?? resent her all you want, but that’s your sister, man. i bet toto is steaming at the ears rn

@/burnerformaria

she was seventeen and getting ripped apart by the tabloids meanwhile y’all ate it up. and now it’s happening again after she’s (allegedly) been clean for like a year???? disgusting!!

@/tracksidequeen

every few years the world remembers ana wolff (the daughter of toto & his first wife) exists and decides to crucify her again. it’s getting soooo old.

@/f1noir

sorry but if my sister OD’d and went to rehab i wouldn’t be going on a podcast and talking about it years later for clout. nate wolff is trash

@/chaoticneutral

“loose cannon” is what they call women with complex mental disorders. men just get called “delicate.” funny how that works isn’t it. FUCK YOU NATE WOLFF

@/sundayslikethese

people act like anneliese wolff is the fucking devil for suffering from an addiction that millions of people also suffer with. and she was a kid when it all went down. it just doesn’t sit well with me idk

@/slowpitstop

ana wolff is trending again. do we really need to relitigate the addiction of a 22yo girl who hasn’t been in the spotlight for literal years?

—

Lando sat back in his seat, phone in hand, jaw tight. He scrolled, skimmed the noise, the headlines, the rehashing of pain that wasn’t his to touch.

And then, without thinking twice, he double-tapped a tweet.

@/f1noir

sorry but if my sister OD’d and went to rehab i wouldn’t be going on a podcast and talking about it years later for clout. nate wolff is trash

The little heart turned red.

He locked his phone.

Didn’t say a word.

Just… made his alliance clear for the world to see.

NEXT CHAPTER

333 notes · View notes

bogleech · 1 day ago

Text

The one and only thing I could conceivably "thank" jk rowling for is that her gender derangement syndrome at least woke some people up to there being a toxic and evil type of feminism at all. For a while on tumblr you just had to grit your teeth and ignore the "yes all men" thing or people would think you were on the side of the redpill incel gamerbronies, remember those?? I feel kinda bad echoing the yes all men thing just to be mean to those because I'm sure it made some real humans think I was unironically that kind of liberal but on the other hand whats left of those guys continue to avoid me so mission accomplished. Yes they still exist. Remember when they were fucking everywhere though? Remember grown men getting mad that they thought women poisoned their xbox graphics and half of them had fluttershy avatars??? What the fuck was that. At least the radfems have a logic to why they'll wear harry potter icons. I don't think the horse cartoon ever went on twitter rampages about the wickedness and degeneracy of the x chromosome but I never really watched it. They could have done a whole arc of applejack getting redpilled and I'd never have known. Wait probably not applejack, I still know which ones are which because I lived through 2013 and farm girls are usually cool. Would it be rarity? She was the rich white woman. She'd be the tradwife conservative if any of them were, double whammy of redpill brain and rowling brain, real bad combo in an animal that can kick your head off. Well it's a pony so I guess kick someones balls off. Point of this whole post is there's an above zero chance at least rarity would be maga if she were still alive today.

355 notes · View notes

hydeandseek128 · 2 days ago

Text

oh man this one got the people Big Mad didn't it

for the "piss on the poor" contingent of Tumblr, OP is not saying:

you should kudos and comment every fic you read

you have to kudos and comment terrible awful fics

authors should hold their chapters hostage if they don't get engagement

authors should be hyperfocused on engagement, writing for yourself is dumb

what OP is saying:

authors write for themselves but post for their fandom, and they are more likely to stop posting if no one in said fandom is giving an indication that they enjoyed the work

Like, yeah. I write fanfic and original content. The original content is stuff I wrote for myself, and none of that is published (despite the fact that AO3 encourages original works) because, well, it's for myself. My fandom work is written because I think idea is cool, but posted to AO3 because I think others would want to read it.

No one has to read, much less enjoy my fics. But the kudos button and comments are the "I want to see more of this!!" buttons. So if you enjoy a work, and you gush about it in your private Discord or to a friend...well, the author doesn't know you enjoyed the work, and if everyone does this, the author is going to believe that no one is enjoying what they put out.

Maybe they keep posting. Maybe they keep writing, but stop posting. Maybe they stop writing altogether. It depends on the person. But the best way to show you like a fic is to hit the silly little buttons on the fic.

(I have a commentor on my longfic that just comments "💜💜💜" on each chapter and it makes my day!! Like YES this is the shit!! If you want to comment but don't know how/what to say, emojis or a keyboard smash will ABSOLUTELY do!!)

a feel like the new generation of fanfic readers NEED to understand that clicking on a fic (interaction) does nothing. ao3 has no algorithm. your private discord discussions of fic do not reach the authors. if you do not actively engage with writers they will stop posting. this isn’t social media this is community.

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #my fic #everyone who kudoses comments and bookmarks sincerely makes my day #yall are the greatest

60K notes · View notes

littlemissforgetfulwrites · 3 days ago

Text

reckless walking

summary; f1 drivers when he's trying to walk you into your apartment after you got married and accidentally hits your head or knocks something over

pairing(s)/drivers; charles leclerc, lando norris, carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, liam lawson, oscar piastri

˚❀˚·⋆✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿⋆·˚❀˚˚·⋆✿˚

charles leclerc

❀ by the time you two get back to your apartment its late and the only lights left on in the city are the street lights

❀ you guys can’t stop giggling in the elevator

❀ mainly cause you had been drinking and because you two had just gotten married

❀ picks you up randomly when you’re walking to your front door

❀ ‘i love you’ ‘i love you too, you’re my favorite husband’ ‘you have more than one husband’

❀ he gets too distracted and literally walks you into the doorframe and then drops you

❀ falls on the ground next to you

❀ ‘are you ok-‘ ‘you’re no longer my favorite husband’ ‘BABY NO’

lando norris

❀ he's probably already drunk on cheap champange

❀ basically stumbling into your apartment complex and insisting on carrying you into your apartment bridal style

❀ ‘lando honey, i don’t think that’s a good idea… you nearly finished an entire body of champagne’ ‘no i didn’t’ ‘i have photos’ ‘NO’

❀ giving in because he keeps whining

❀ nearly drops you when he tries to get his keys out of his pocket

❀ ‘whoops’

❀ when you finally open the door you think you can relax but then you hear it

❀ lando’s drunk ass walked your legs right into the the new vase of roses he got for you

❀ you both watch in horror as the pink glass vase breaks into a million little pieces

❀ ‘whoops’ he says again as he throws you onto the bed

carlos sainz

❀ this man would be too happy

❀ evilly laughing like a maniac as he holds your hand tighter and walks into the apartment complex

❀ ‘carlos what’s wrong with you?’ ‘nothing my love’

❀ mutters something in spanish while looking at you with some sexy look in his eye

❀ you just decide to blame it on the champagne

❀ immediately take you off your feet when the elevator doors open

❀ starts strutting towards your front door while trying to kiss you

❀ does not work out cause when you take out your key he walks right into the door and you smack your head when you look up

❀ ‘CARLOS’ ‘i was blinded by your beauty’ ‘just put me down’ ‘yes amour, i’m sorry…’

daniel ricciardo

❀ i’m not gonna lie you guys probably got married at some chapel in texas

❀ ‘baby how do you feel about getting married by elvis’

❀ lots of arguing but you compromised on a nice little chapel where you get married by an actual priest

❀ max and lando are probably your witnesses

❀ you two are all over each other by the time you get back to your hotel so you don’t even get surprised when he picks you up

❀ has your legs around his waist by the time you’re walking into the room

❀ you two are too distracted to even notice how tall the door really is

❀ ‘i love you’ ‘i love you too- OW’

❀ nearly drops you

❀ ‘are you ok’ ‘i think i need an advil now’

❀ ‘i know something better than advil’ as a stupid smirk appears on his face

liam lawson

❀ the two of would be so cool about it until you get into your apartment complex

❀ and then this man picks you up and starts to aggressively nip at your neck

❀ ‘liam honey, we’re in an elevator with cameras’ ‘right’

❀ the moment you get off the elevator he starts again while you fish for your house keys

❀ he can’t stop whispering in your ear and touching your hair while you fiddle with the lock

❀ he laughs at the jingle of your keychains because that’s how carefree he is (matching keychains probably very cutesy)

❀ then right when he’s distracted with you he runs right into the doorframe, smacking your knees against the wood

❀ ‘liam, you know what i’m not even mad’ ‘are you sure’ ‘just make me not be able to walk in another way’ ‘ok then ☺️’

oscar piastri

❀ lets just say that the two of you are still young when you get married so he has to take you back to his childhood home… yeah awkward but the wedding was spontaneous (and you love each other so what the heck)

❀ its late at night and everyone else is still asleep when he sweeps you off your feet and takes you inside the house

❀ the two of you make it through the front door and up the stairs giggling without breaking anything

❀ and then it happens

❀ he tries to kiss you while walking through his bedroom door and bam your foot knocks over one of his old karting trophies and sets off a chain reaction with the rest of them

❀ ‘oscar!’ ‘shit’

❀ ‘what was that?’ you hear from nicole’s room

❀ ‘crap’

239 notes · View notes

starburstsamo · 2 days ago

Text

in the beginning, god created heaven and earth; for what it's worth, i think that he might've created you first.

pairing: andrew cody x f!reader

warnings: blasphemy? set in the church heist season, so yeah. unspecified age gap (reader is in college), hints of fluff, smut - fingering, unprotected sex, use of a vibrator, one slap, reader is a virgin but it's very subtle imo, depending on how you look at it..kinda soft dom!andrew

summary: you finally have some fun at church when a new guy joins bible study.

w/c: 7.2k cca

a/n: nothing, andrew cody just penetrated my brain for a second. this is kind of just a foreplay before i write something really disgusting for this man. also, just for the sake of the story, let's pretend he'd been scouting new canticle for longer than three weeks. i hope you enjoy!!

You weren’t a religious person, but it’s not like you didn’t believe in anything. You believed that there was some kind pull, besides the magnetic one, that brought you closer to your destiny, and it only depended on how much you fought it if you wanted to change or avoid it. You believed it, because despite your religious views, church had turned out to play a pivotal role in your life.

Words couldn’t describe how much you hated church. Well, that’s not entirely true, you just hated the reason behind why you went and the fact that it was basically against your will. You prided yourself in standing your ground, but this time, you tried to swallow that pride and not to be naïve at least once in your life. This way of thinking had been caused by your aunt who had made a deal with your parents: she would pay for your college tuition, and in exchange, you’d start going to New Canticle. It was presented as a fait accompli to you, even though you had never met bigger atheists in your life than your parents.

Fucking hypocrites.

Your aunt thought you were troubled. She had never dared to say it out loud to your face, but you could tell from the way she talked about you with other people, or the way she grimaced at your choice of clothes.

At least she hadn’t taken that away from you. Yet. Not that she hadn’t tried. She had offered you a few pieces of her own clothes, “appropriate” for church, but you had managed to convince her that you were allergic to rayon, which was all her clothes were made of.

So, yeah, she didn’t like the way you were turning heads, but she had made herself believe that patience and consistency would get you to the place that she was at.

That was the part you hated, but some of the people from church were actually pretty cool. Nice. You liked Amy, she never forced anything on you even though she was heavily invested in that lifestyle and work, organizing events, teaching Bible study all while practicing celibacy and staying sober. You thought she should replace your aunt as a head coordinator, but nobody was ready to have that conversation. Amy was also the only person to compliment your outfits, and it made you feel empowered. Not that she was the only one who liked it, some of the men there always had their eyes on you and they were trying to hold themselves back from acting on whatever their disgusting minds were telling them to do. You could just tell. However, poor Amy had earned herself a don’t encourage her speech from your aunt, so she had to limit her compliments eventually, and often settled for throwing you a thumbs up after she’d made sure that nobody was looking.

And then, Andrew joined Bible study. There was a lot of people circulating through the sessions, but you had never really paid attention to who chose to stay longer compared to others like you did to Andrew.

You had never tried to get anyone’s attention with the way you dressed, but the one time you wished it would catch a man’s eye, the man in question didn’t really seem to care. Yes, he stared a lot, but he stared at many people which, to be honest, made you a little petty.

It also seemed that he was close to Amy, and at first, you thought they were dating, but when you asked her about it, she assured you that that was not the case. According to Amy, he just seemed a little lost, broken, like someone who needed guidance which she’d offered simply because of her own agenda. It was always the same spiritual crap over and over again.

“So, go for it if you want.”

Your head snapped to her, arching an eyebrow at her. “Are you serious? Aren’t you supposed to deter me from that?”

“Not that I think there is no hope for you, but you don’t belong here. What we do here isn’t you. And I mean it in the nicest way possible.”

Your lopsided smile grew into a full-on grin as you hugged her arm, squishing your cheek against her shoulder.

“You’re such a cool person, Amy, you know that? I’m sure you’re God’s favorite. And I am serious.”

She started shaking her head bashfully, her cheeks reddening at the compliment, but you didn’t stop convincing her until she stopped moving her head and thanked you. You really loved Amy, and you weren’t sure how long you’d last here if it weren’t for her.

And just when you thought you couldn’t love her more, she arranged a tour of the New Canticle for you to give to Andrew, which he had supposedly asked for.

“But don’t tell your aunt I had something to do with it.”

You would never.

So, that was your first close contact with him after just admiring him from afar during Bible study sessions where you got to listen to his somewhat skeptical views on religion. Honestly, you were still trying to figure out whether he did believe in God, whether he was convincing himself that there was a God or if he was just trolling.

“So, who have you killed?”

You asked him after you’d shown him all the classrooms, the cafeteria and the counseling rooms, leading him to the empty auditorium which he already knew, but you wanted to be somewhere quiet with him, taking a seat in the furthest corner of the room. He didn’t sit at first, towering over you as his nose twisted at your question.

“What?”

“Well, you know. It’s the criminals that often turn to faith. Thinking it will save them or whatever. My aunt, for example, steals decorative rocks from the botanical gardens.”

He chose to stay silent still, sneering at the ground with his nose still twitching and eyes skating all over the place.

“Well, what did you do?” he rasped out, his tone slightly defensive.

You huffed. “Nothing, yet.”

He finally sat down, and you twisted in your seat just enough to face him. You had noticed it before, but God, did he have an amazing posture. You almost envied him.

“You never talk. During Bible study, I mean.”

Oh. So, he did notice you.

“Yeah. I really have nothing to say. Well, I do, but I don’t believe in God, and I don’t want to spoil it for Amy. She works really hard on… everything.”

You were confusing him word after word.

“Why are you here, then?”

“Bad parents and inappropriate clothes,” you said with a lifted corner of your mouth, thudding your skull against the wall behind you and lolling your head to the side, studying his expression.

His face finally relaxed, but you didn’t know if that was good in this case. Up to this point, you could at least tell that he was either confused, disgusted or offended. It had to be one of these emotions. But now, you had no idea what he was thinking, he was just staring at you with empty eyes. Neither one of you broke the eye contact, and you thought you saw him lean in, albeit unintentional. It was more like he lost a balance for a second, but he straightened up quick.

His eyes scanned your body, from the black crop-top to the high-waisted skirt and over your bare thighs, before returning to your hair and taking in the small clips holding your front locks away from your face.

“I think you look nice,” he said with a shrug, and despite the slightly insincere tone, you chose to believe him just for your own sake.

Since then, he’d always come to find you instead of Amy, and now her thumbs up’s gained a whole different meaning. Andrew even began to show signs of smiles from time to time before he’d catch himself and put on the stoic mask of which he was pretty fond. You weren’t exactly sure what he wanted to accomplish with that façade, but it always made you stifle a laugh.

You started to wear shorter skirts too, just for him, from jean skirts to tennis skirts or little black skirts with side slits, combining them with almost see-through, white blouses or small knitted vests, each piece revealing the shiny little cross on your chest. You also bought more dresses that you thought he might like

You did all of that for quite simple words: You look nice.

Andrew didn’t have any other compliments in his vocabulary, and frankly, you didn’t care. You yearned for this one specific line every time you were headed to the church. It was everything you needed to hear to get through, the addiction growing with each day.

Of course, your aunt had eventually noticed. Not only that you had started to reveal more skin, which was the polar opposite of what she had been trying to accomplish, but also how Andrew started to linger around you.

Your aunt didn’t like Andrew to begin with, so whenever she heard you giggle at something he said that wasn’t meant to be funny (which made his lips twitch into a soft smile too, even though he had no idea where your humor stemmed from), it made her fume.

“He’s the spawn of something evil. I can feel it. And you know I don’t use that phrase lightly,” she had said, and it made you roll your eyes. She claimed that she actually hated that phrase, so this must have been serious for her.

You honestly didn’t give a shit. He could be Satan and you’d still want to fuck him. Probably even more so, although you didn’t tell her that, because you were sure that you might as well say goodbye to your degree if you did.

Your aunt’s last straw was during the preparations for a garden party.

“What’s this for?”

You jumped at the sudden voice that was too close to your ear, feeling the hot breath brush against your skin as you threw the numbered sticker into its respectful box, right next to the box of sidewalk chalk and the pile of plastic mini racing flags.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me,” you gasped as your hand flew to your chest, turning to see Andrew peeking over your shoulder.

He hung his head, swallowing as he took a step back with his hands shoved into his pockets. You cursed yourself for making him do that. Andrew was sensitive to the variations of the word scare and you definitely didn’t want him to think that you were scared of him

So, to compensate, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the neighboring desk covered in pamphlets. Your chest puffed out when he didn’t flinch this time, a big difference to when you first started talking.

You showed him a pamphlet with cartoon turtles, explaining to him that the church was holding a turtle race before you ranted about how it bordered with animal cruelty.

“That’s… horrible,” Andrew drawled out, and you gazed at his face.

“I know, right? And they think I’m the devil because I wear skirts.”

Yeah, so you baited him a little bit, but it was worth it, because Andrew’s head snapped to your lower body immediately, bending backwards and craning his neck as his eyes scanned over the back of your bare legs and to your backside. Your eyebrow pinched together for a split second as you smiled at the fact that he probably didn’t even realize how it must have looked.

“You look nice.”

Your smile grew wider, and Andrew smiled too, holding eye contact as you thanked him. His smile didn’t even falter this time.

But you were an obnoxious guest in God’s home, and the spell just had to be broken by none other than your aunt inserting herself between your bodies and plastering a too wide of a smile on her face.

“Andrew! Will you be joining us for the garden party? We’re having a turtle race. It’s so much fun, especially for the kids.”

He glanced at you just in time to see you roll your eyes as you folded the pamphlet and returned it to the stack.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other activities that don’t support animal cruelty?”

Your aunt’s forced smile slowly fell from her face, her head twitching towards you as you pretended to organize the piles before she looked back at Andrew.

“Did she get into your head, too? Honey, they are pet turtles. We make sure they are well fed, have enough water and are protected from the sun.”

“Yeah, but you’re putting unnecessary stress on them, you know, with the screaming and placing them into an unfamiliar environment. They could get injured, too. And what about those stickers, are you sure they are non-toxic? I can ask my friend who works for Welfare Services, and I’ll let you know what he has to say about that.”

It was quiet for a moment before your aunt said she’d talk to other coordinators about it and left, throwing you one last lethal look over her shoulder.

You nearly jumped up and down, but instead, you chose to stand on your tiptoes and kiss Andrew’s cheek.

“You’re fucking amazing. Thank you.”

Apparently, Andrew’s niece loved turtles, so he knew a thing or two about them. He helped you discard all the pamphlets and promised to give the turtle pellets to a local organization that tried to protect turtles and tortoises.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face for the rest of the day, even though you knew you should probably prepare for a piece of your aunt’s mind.

Except, it didn’t come. She drove you home and that was it, didn’t even come inside to tell your parents on you. It didn’t feel right, but you chose to ignore the nagging feeling, thinking maybe God, if there was one, chose your side instead of hers this time.

Andrew didn’t come to Thursday’s Bible study. It was weird, because he had never missed a class, and he occasionally visited you on other days too. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, because literally anything could have happened, maybe he was babysitting Lena, or he was sick. Naturally, you tried to text him, but there was no answer. So, you called, and again, nothing.

He didn’t come on Sunday either and you almost wanted to go home and change, because what was the point if he wasn’t there to say you looked nice? It led you to realize just how addicted you had become to his presence. Having Amy there just wasn’t enough anymore, you needed him.

He did show up on Tuesday. But not once did he look at you. He didn’t come to say hi or jab at other people in the group. And when the class ended, he jumped to his feet. You clenched your jaw as you watched him scurry away, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of your chair before you shot up too, but Amy stopped you before you could leave the room.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait? I’ve gotta–”

“I know. That’s what it’s about.”

You frowned, looking at the now vacant hallway as you let Amy tug you into the corner of the room.

“I overheard your aunt talking to Andrew the other day.”

So, apparently, your fucking aunt had told Andrew that you were too young for him and purposely made it sound like he was some kind of a creep.

Which was fucking ridiculous, because you were the creep, essentially.

“I would’ve told you sooner, but I never thought he’d take it to heart.”

You thanked her and rushed outside, hoping you’d still be able to catch up to him. When you exited the building, you searched the parking lot until you finally saw Andrew speedwalking to his car. You looked like a fucking idiot, running after him and calling out his name, and he didn’t even have the decency to acknowledge you, not even after you called out his name for the second and third time.

You weren’t going to let him get away though, so you sprinted off in his direction, and just as he started the car, you ripped the passenger’s car door open.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You know I look like a crazy person, right?” you said as you plopped yourself onto the leather seat of the Dodge, while he just stared ahead, completely non-verbal. “You could at least acknowledge me, you know. I know you’re a man of few words but come on. You could have at least talked to me.”

Your eyes were jumping all over his face, your chest rising as you tried to steady your breathing. He turned off the car.

“You’re too young.”

“Too young to what?” you asked, demanding some explanation that would make sense. You sure as hell weren’t going to let him get away without a reasonable argument. Which, by the way, there was none. “Andrew. Too young to what?” you pressed.

“I don’t know!”

“See?” you braced yourself against the dashboard and the seat as you leaned forward a bit. “She’s just putting words into your mouth. I fucking told you my family is crazy.”

He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the headrest, releasing a deep sigh.

“Do you like me, Andrew?”

He didn’t answer and his eyes remained closed. Like a fucking brick wall. So, you decided to be bold, climbing over the console and straddling his lap. His eyes snapped open then, hands landing on your hips as if to push you away, but he didn’t. You cupped his face, locking eyes with him.

“Because I liked you. When you still talked to me. I’m not liking you right now.”

“Your aunt–”

“Fuck my aunt! She’s scared of you. And she hates me. That’s why she told you all those things.” Your thumb was absently stroking the skin under his eye, and you thought how pretty he was, how those once empty eyes were now filled with… something. Either you were right, or you were becoming fucking delusional. You didn’t care which. “I like you, Andrew. I like dressing up for you. I like it when you tell me I look nice. I miss it.”

Him. You missed him.

His lips twitched, and you swore you could see his cheeks change color. His eyes flicked to your lips, but he still seemed not to have made up his mind and you were done forcing yourself on anyone.

Scoffing, you began to remove yourself from his lap, but he caught your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, sitting you back onto his thighs and eliciting a gasp from you.

With his fingers tangled in your hair, he yanked you down into a kiss, and as your lips molded together, you finally let all of your weight settle against him, rubbing your soaked panties over the rough material of his jeans, and in response, his hips bucked upwards.

God, you wanted him so bad.

Your hands fell to his belt, clinking sounds echoing through the car as you tried to unbuckle it, accompanied by the smacking of your lips. It was a few moments of no progress, you should have moved on to his zipper by this time, but your hands were shaking and you just took too long to open the fucking pants, so you had to break the kiss.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he watched you struggle, his ears picking up on the shuddering breath you released. You just nodded, swallowing down the embarrassment that was creeping up on you. “Are you sure? You want this? One hundred percent?”

Your eyes flicked between his face and your hands still on the belt before you exhaled, not realizing how irregular your breathing was.

“I do.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes suddenly softened, and for the first time, you could name the emotion that crossed his face. Pity.

You were still hoping that he would spare you the further embarrassment, that he'd be a jerk who just took what he wanted, ignoring the new piece of information he'd just learned. Not with your luck.

“You’ve never had sex, right?”

“Shit...” Your body slumped. “Did I just ruin this?”

“No!” he said incredulously, while still keeping his voice down. His fingers tugged some loose strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ears. “But maybe we should slow down. Is that okay with you?”

“Like, how much?”

“Well, I need to stretch you out for my cock first. Which could take some time.”

More heat rushed to your cheeks, your stomach twisting as you murmured a soft okay.

So, you didn't fuck him, but you convinced him to make you cum with his fingers, at least, because otherwise you would have probably thought that he’d ghost you or something. You told him that it would be a promise that he really would fuck you eventually.

Actually, Andrew didn’t need much convincing, he was pretty eager to touch you, too. You loved the way he watched you come undone into his palm, with hooded eyes and lower lip caught between his upper teeth.

He had to tell you multiple times to relax first, because you were too focused on the finish line, instead of the feeling of his fingers dragging against your walls.

“Don’t chase it. Let it come to you. I’ll be here as long as it takes.”

He was so patient with you, the entire span of his focus was on your reactions to certain flicks and twitches of his fingers, learning what made you flutter around him. His hot breath teased your skin, ghosting over your neck and chest, but he never once touched his lips to you, not even when you curled your fingers into his hair and tried to guide his face to your breast.

Once your hips started to move on their own, spearing yourself on his fingers as the heel of his palm grinded against your clit, Andrew brought his other hand to your breast, pinching the stiff peek and tugging hard. You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you, and with the last curl of his fingers against the spongy spot inside of you and a few flicks of his thumb over your clit, you came all over his hand. Your thighs squeezed his hips in an attempt to close your legs, muscles quivering as the orgasm ripped through you.

You brought your mouth to his, licking along the seam before you nipped at his bottom lip. Well, Andrew would later argue that you straight out bit him. And he wasn’t wrong as you broke the skin and drew some blood, which would turn into a small bruise the next day. He growled when he felt the sting, fingers instinctively pushing into you even harder and making you let go of his mouth as you cried out.

When you came down from your high, he slowly withdrew his hand, bringing it to your lips and making you suck your juices off his fingers.

“Do you taste sweet?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

“When I taste you, it will be with my face buried between your legs. Not today, though.”

You pouted before you leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped you with his palm cupping your chin and fingers squeezing your cheeks together.

“That would be cheating. Nice try, though.”

“Are you saying you’re not gonna kiss me anymore?”

In response, he kissed you on the tip of your nose and you thought you were going to melt right then and there.

“Do you have a ride home?”

Well, Amy had probably already left, so Andrew took you. The whole ride, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the steering wheel that was shining with your cum and spit, and he only smirked when he caught you. You tried to kiss him goodbye when he dropped you off, but evidently, his mind wasn’t as clouded as yours, so he still didn’t let you until the next day.

You both agreed that Andrew would stop coming to the church unless there was Bible study, in order to protect you from your aunt. He really didn’t want to get you in trouble, however, that didn’t mean that you couldn't see each other outside of church. He often waited for you in his car whenever your ride was provided by anyone else but your aunt, making you cum with his fingers, whether it be in his lap behind the wheel or the backseat, which you personally preferred, because of the way he'd hover over you which made you significantly wetter.

You kind of enjoyed Bible study too, because you made sure he suffered while he tried to act like he didn’t want you.

You’d cross and uncross your legs, offering him quick glimpses of your underwear, or the lack of it, and sometimes, you’d press yourself against him, just long enough to stuff said underwear into the back pocket of his jeans.

Sadly, you never got to see the expression on his face, because you were already risking too much by even being in his proximity.

You also liked to make a show of bending over, and you knew he was aware that with the skirts you wore, you’d be putting yourself on full display. He always rushed over in order to shield your ass and pussy from unauthorized eyes, only for you to reveal that you were wearing undershorts.

You weren't that slutty.

You kept him on his toes and he’d punish you every single time by ruining your orgasms until you begged him to let you cum.

“I swear I will never fuck you if you keep this shit up.”

“Promises, promises.”

Andrew swiped a hand across your cheek after that. Very gently. It felt like a caress, really, before he asked if it was okay, and you nodded. Of course it was okay. You’d let him do unspeakable things to you, but he had boundaries, unfortunately. He had never feared to slap you harder since then, threatening that one of those times, it would land on your cunt. You couldn’t wait for that to happen.

With each passing day, you were getting closer and closer to being able to take him, as he’d put all the work into stretching you out with his fingers. He never used anything else. Not his mouth, not his cock. He had also never let you touch him, always swatting your hands away when you got too grabby, and puppy eyes didn't help you in this case which was a disappointing discovery.

You were getting impatient and frustrated and he must have sensed it, because after he fingered you on a Wednesday night, he gifted you a flamingo vibrator. Remote controlled.

“I want you to wear this. Tomorrow, at Bible study.”

“What do I get in return?”

“Well, that depends on how you behave. Do you want to try it out now?”

You were feeling brave.

“No.”

So, you did as he told you, pushing the vibrator into your already slick pussy and covering it with baby blue panties before heading to the church.

You had never really paid attention during Bible study, but now your focus on other people was completely out the window. Your brain was keeping your body on high alert and all you could think about was Andrew, the vibrator inside of you, and that he might finally fuck you after this.

Andrew was manspreading on the couch right across from you, a complete opposite from your tightly crossed legs. Shit, you’d always managed to keep your dirty thoughts about Andrew at bay during Amy’s classes, but now, you just imagined yourself in his lap with your back against his chest and your legs split open by his thighs while he played with your pussy and fucked you with the vibe in front of everyone. Suddenly, you wanted those men and women to know that your body was a playground dedicated to Andrew, that he was the only one who owned you and got to do whatever he wanted with you.

You tried not to tear your eyes away from his hand which was stuffed in his pocket, probably holding the controller, and you hoped to catch a movement once he was ready to press the power button. You weren't even blinking.

But he was messing with you. He knew what you were trying to do, so he moved his hand as he pleased without even touching the remote, making his next moves unpredictable. You still jumped every time you caught the tiniest movement of his hand or even his knees rocking back and forth occasionally, while Andrew held eye contact with whoever was currently speaking, not having the slightest problem with keeping the conversation going. But he still hadn’t turned the vibrator on. Was it even working?

And then you heard your name.

You lifted your head. “What?”

“I said I’d like to hear about your opinion. You said you didn’t believe in God, right?”

Asshole.

“Yeah, um...” It had been a long time since you spoke at one of these things. “I’m just not a fan of the idea that some higher power is going to ‘save’ us. We bring obstacles onto ourselves and onto each other, and it’s up to us to overcome them, with or without the help of other people. Real people.”

You heard a few murmurs from the people that were new here, otherwise, nobody was really scandalized by your words.

And before you could find the source of those whispers, you yelped, your body jolting from the buzzing sensation that was quickly spreading through you all of a sudden.

“I mean, I’m not saying you have to believe in God, specifically. But not even a different form of higher power? You don’t consider science a higher power? When you die and someone shocks you back to life? That’s not higher power saving you?”

Andrew emphasized the word with a switch to a higher setting, your pussy clenching around the device torturing your clit as it worked double duty from the inside and outside, the combination growing more and more intense. You really didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.

You didn’t even have the stregth to argue that his logic still included the help of other people, but you knew this wasn’t even the point he was trying to make. Your silence gave Andrew a chance to continue. “You think you have all the power?”

And here we go.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the pain, and luckily, someone who had probably thought you too ignorant, chimed in with some enthusiastic commentary on God’s unconditional love.

At this point, you had lost yourself in your head again, too focused on the pressure blooming in your lower belly as you squirmed in your seat, unable to sit still.

The feeling wasn’t too different from the one Andrew had brought you with his fingers several times before, but this time, it was bordering between pleasure and pain. You couldn’t stop your hand from flying to your stomach, pressing gently against your abdomen and hoping the ache would vanish, but it only intensified, and Andrew took that opportunity to turn the vibe up even more.

It had come to the point where you had to stifle down your whimpers, biting your lip a little too hard in the process, and before you could let your vocal chords generate any sound, you jumped to your feet and excused yourself.

Fuck. You should have checked if you’d left a wet spot on the chair.

You made your way to the spacious restrooms, bracing yourself against the marble counter as you finally released a mewl, pressing your thighs together before you splashed some cold water on your face and the back of your neck.

There was absolutely no way you were coming back to that room. You couldn’t. And before you had a chance to question whether Andrew would be disappointed in you or not, the door opened, and his figure appeared in the mirror reflection.

“Andrew,” you whimpered, brows pinched together as you gripped the counter a little harder.

He was quick as he moved towards you, creating some distance between your body and the sink before he lowered himself to one knee in front of you.

“Let me see,” he said, your hands already working together to pull your dark jean skirt up, bunching it around your hips and revealing your ruined panties, all soaked through. Andrew was a menace, that much you knew, but you still didn't expect him to grip the waistband of your panties and tug upwards, making you cry out as it pressed the vibrator harder against your clit.

He murmured a quiet fuck before he ripped your underwear, his hand disappearing into his pocket. And just like that, the vibrations stopped and you could breathe again.

“I’m gonna pull it out.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you prepared yourself for the pain, but it never came. You were so wet that the vibrator slid right out, slick noises echoing through the bathroom before he shoved the wet device into the pocket of his jacket.

“Fuck, look at yourself.”

You couldn’t help but think that he moved like a ballet dancer, swiftly standing up and twirling around to stand behind you. His hands on your hips moved you a step further from the mirror so you could see the reflection of your lower body.

With your ass pressed against his front, he brought one of his hands to your pussy, gathering some of your juices on his middle finger and lifting it in front of your faces just to see it glisten under the golden lights.

“So sticky.”

He rubbed his thumb against the wet finger before he brought it back right onto your clit and instinctively, your body tried to escape the touch while simulataneously chasing after it as your ass pressed against the bulge in his pants. You were so fucking sensitive, your clit so red and puffy that you thought it was going to explode.

Andrew completely ignored your overstimulated state, only shushing you as you cried out when he touched the throbbing bundle again, not any less softer than before. He couldn’t even keep the pad of his finger on it as it kept sliding off.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he grunted against your ear, and you nodded frantically, already reaching behind you for his belt, but he caught your wrist. “Nuh-uh.”

Andrew set your hand back on the counter, hinging your hips slightly and then you heard the clinking of his buckle, the leather swiping over the skin of your ass as he undid his pants, and you imagined what it would feel like if he hit you with it.

“I really wanted your first time to be in bed.”

“I don’t care,” you rushed out, afraid that he would change his mind. Jesus Christ, he must have thought you were pathetic. And he would be right. Andrew nodded, mockingly rising his eyebrows and curling the corners of his lips downward with his eyes glued to your drenched cunt.

“I’m sure you don’t.”

And then you felt him tap the head of his cock against your clit, your hips rocking forward at the unexpected touch before backing into him. He coated his shaft in your wetness, sliding it up and down, spreading your folds and bumping his cock against your nub a few more times before he finally pressed himself against your hole.

You tried to rock back, and Andrew had to stop you from doing that because you were too sloppy and it didn't help either one of you. He slid into you slowly, and you barely felt any pain when he pushed deeper and deeper, because you were just so wet. Honestly, you felt so proud of how well you were taking him, until he spoke.

“Christ, I’ve never fucked anyone so tight.”

After all the work he’d done on you to prepare you for his cock, he still needed to give you time to adjust to his size before he grabbed your shoulder while his other hand stayed on your hip, sliding out slowly. You fluttered around him, and he had to put every bit of strength into not cumming right then and there.

He watched you in the mirror, the chain around your neck dangling in the air as you bit your lip. You were perfect. Looking so sweet and innocent, like something that was worth ruining. And he wanted to ruin you so bad, for others, and for God, too, even though you never offered yourself to Him and weren’t planning to. Andrew wanted you for himself.

When he pushed back in, you mewled, enjoying the beautiful stretch. You felt so snug around him, almost feeling every ridge of his cock as he bottomed out, and you couldn’t help but imagine having your lips around him. You probably weren’t even going to fit half of him into your mouth, but you wished he made you. You wished he made you choke him down as he told you what a good girl you were for swallowing all of him.

“Spread your ass.”

Your mind was fogged, and you spread your legs wider instead.

“I said your ass,” he said more firmly, grabbing your hand and yanking it toward the globe of your butt harshly. Your other hand joined too, spreading your cheeks as he gripped your upper arms and started picking up the pace, trying to find a steady rhythm. You weren’t sure if he did it for the aesthetics of it or if he thought that it would help him glide in and out a little easier. It did not. At least you didn’t think it did, because he still felt too big.

Skin slapped against skin, your pussy was squelching with arousal and breathy gasps escaped both your mouths. Suddenly, Andrew moved forward until you were pressed against the cold marble, your hip bones bumping against the edge with every thrust of his cock. He bent over you, bringing his lips to your shoulder and scraping his teeth against your skin. His hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing and fondling before one traveled higher and squeezed the sides of your neck, propping your chest up as he lifted you, pressing your back against his front.

You focused your eyes on the hand around your throat, feeling your walls clench around him at the sight. He grunted, pressing down on your pulse point and slowing down the delivery of oxygen to your brain which was already malfunctioning anyway, so you didn't really care. Your eyes rolled back in your head and it made him buck his hips harder against you, bringing his fingers down to your center and pinching your clit between his ring finger and middle finger. The orgasm came out of nowhere, crashing down on you and making you feel like your body was imploding.

Your back arched into him, your legs quivered and your hands slammed against the counter as you braced yourself. Andrew fucked you until he came too, lifting one of your knees next to your hand and squeezing the flesh of your inner thigh to sink deeper into you, holding back his moans when he finally filled you up with his cum. Before he could come down from it, you heard footsteps in the hallway.

Andrew quickly walked the both of you backwards, keeping you speared on his cock, until he slammed the door of one of the stalls shut. You heard them cross the threshold to the restroom, and Andrew’s hand shot up to your face, covering your mouth with a firm hold as your released a small gasp when you squirmed against him. You squeezed your eyes shut as you leaned your head against his shoulder, trying to calm yourself down and hold in any other noise that could accidentally come out of you.

When you opened your eyes, Andrew was once staring at you, and suddenly, you felt cheeky again.

You clenched around his softened cock, which, besides a strict look, earned you having your nose covered along with your mouth, significantly limiting your oxygen intake. You were sick enough to gush around him at the thought of him killing you with his cock still inside of you. You closed your eyes again, focusing on slowing down your breathing as you waited for the person to leave.

When they finally did, Andrew spun you around, grabbing you under your throat again and slamming you against the door.

“Just for that, I should bend you over my knee and spank your ass so hard that you won’t be able to sit for weeks.”

“My ass should get in line then. I’m still waiting for you spank my pussy.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath. You’re too fucking greedy for that.”

He kissed you then, sweet and slow, like he hadn’t just almost broken your hip bones or made you lose consciousness.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, your eyes crinkling as you smiled at him and brought your lips to his again. When you broke the kiss, he chased after you with a soft smile, leaning his forehead against yours as your noses bumped together. Then he pulled away.

“Okay. Now, I want you to walk out of here,” he said, as he tucked his cock into his pants. You nodded, reaching for the toilet paper, but his hand caught your wrist. “No. I want to see my cum trailing down your thighs.”

Fuck.

“Where should I go?”

“My car,” he said as he fished his keys from his jacket, placing them into your palm. “Wait there until the Bible study's over. You do not touch yourself, you do not make yourself cum with anything that you might find in the car. Understand?”

What did he have in his car that you could use to get yourself off?

“Yes. Where will we go?”

“My place. I want to be able to take my time with you. You have a punishment worth five strikes coming your way.”

“Five?!”

“And counting.”

You knew just about the one, but what about the rest? What the hell did you do?

“Well, letting me fuck you in a church is a big one. Leaving in the middle of the class is another. You also wore your panties–“

“You didn’t tell me I wasn’t supposed to–“

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

You snapped your mouth shut, glancing down at your feet.

“What is the last reason?”

“Thinking you could somehow outsmart me in there.”

You rolled your eyes, because that’s not what you were doing.

“Jesus, did I fuck a brat into you? I’m gonna leave because otherwise I’ll lose count of how many times you actually deserve to be punished.” Although he tried to act like a hard-ass, he couldn't leave without kissing you again, squeezing your hips one more time before he blindly fixed your skirt, petting the sides of your thighs as he did so. You sighed when he removed his tongue from your mouth, staring at you with hooded eyes before he slapped your ass. “Car. Now.”

fin.

#andrew cody #andrew cody x reader #andrew cody fluff #andrew cody smut #andrew cody fanfiction #andrew cody x you #andrew cody x f!reader #pope cody #andrew pope cody #pope cody x reader #andrew pope cody x reader #animal kingdom #animal kingdom fanfiction

230 notes · View notes

thatonegrimm · 2 days ago

Note

How about a ai hoshino! reader from oshi no ko

She just as famous as the saja boys, and huntrix,

little idea that I came up with her dark eyes, her reflection of her demon powers, and she only feeds off the energy of the crowd instead of actually taking souls.

Basically, she takes the energy of the adrenaline within their souls. She doesn’t actually take them or eat them, but she feeds them like it’s energy and can actually taste them. It doesn’t really affect any of her fans. They just feel really drained and drowsy.

I got this inspiration by idol yoasobi

Literally, “your idol” and “idol” are kind of the same with the same beginnings and enchanting and all sorts of things, but when I was watching the video, I saw her kind of changed to a dark outfit version and I kind of thought

why not make her have a demon form because it would fit her And her eyes could shift a black eyes when she goes into a demon form which makes her unique

Basically, I just think both of the idol songs one from my movie. One from a anime show are kind of the same but this is basically what I want. I want them to meet the famous who is a half demon just like Rumi but she embraces her demon side. She still grows up with the same backstory, but she kind of embrace it when she sings her songs.

I could go on forever, but this would probably take too long to read so

Please do consider this as a future possibility if you cannot write it and thank you for taking the time to even read this and you can totally come up with how the boys would initially react to her whether or not the type is boyfriend girlfriend, etc. you come up with what they should be doing

Thanks for your request! I hope it meets your expectations. Here you go!💌

🌙Saja Boys x ai hoshino!Reader

---------------------------

They call her a goddess onstage. A monster off it.

A half-demon idol with eyes darker than shadows and a smile bright enough to blind, she doesn’t take souls—she drinks the adrenaline right out of a crowd's chest.

Her voice wraps around people like silk. Her gaze holds like gravity. When she sings, her audience leaves not broken… but drained. Lightheaded. Emotionally spent. Like something inside them bloomed too fast and burned out.

But they always come back.

Because what she gives in return is unforgettable.

She doesn’t hide her demon half. She doesn't flinch from it. She performs with it. Becomes it. Every note, every move, every carefully crafted look down the bridge of her nose is a love letter to the chaos she was born from.

She isn’t cursed.

She’s chosen.

And now, she’s famous enough to stand next to the Saja Boys. Maybe even outshine them.

-----------------------

🧿 Jinu

Jinu read your profile like he was preparing for a mission.

Stage clips, interviews, social media—all mental notes about power, presence, and possible risks.

Then he saw you in person during rehearsal, bathed in crimson light, eyelids heavy like you were carrying some secret pain.

And every plan he made evaporated.

“You… resonate strangely,” he said later, standing awkwardly outside your dressing room.

You tilted your head, eyes sharp.

“You’re the kind who tries to fix everyone,” you said softly. “I can taste that exhaustion.”

He blinked.

You smiled—soft but knowing.

Jinu cleared his throat and excused himself.

Later, he told the others, “It’s strategic to observe her from a distance.”

No one bought it.

-----------------------

💪 Abby

Abby didn’t hesitate to approach you.

He shook your hand like you were old friends, eyes bright.

“Hey! You were incredible! That note? Felt it in my bones. You okay though? That kind of energy—do you need water?”

You blinked, caught off guard by how genuine he was.

“You’re… not intimidated?”

He grinned. “Why would I be? You’re strong. Cool, too. Also, your eyeliner? Perfect. Waterproof?”

You didn’t feed off fear, but Abby’s loyalty tasted like warm cinnamon and comfort.

He saved your signed photo in his phone, calling it “battle inspiration.”

He meant it.

-----------------------

📚 Mystery

Mystery stood still the first time he saw you.

Backstage, you hummed softly in the shadows without looking up.

“You’re the one who stalks in shadows,” you said quietly.

He didn’t answer.

You smiled faintly.

“Your aura folds. I like that.”

His eyes narrowed, one hand twitching like it reached for a hidden blade.

You brushed past him, close enough to feel the cold.

“Don’t worry. I don’t bite.”

“You don’t have to,” he murmured.

The air stayed cold after you left.

Later, you found a folded page in your makeup case—a poem in precise, strange script, unsigned:

“I saw you burn, and I stayed.”

You kept it.

-----------------------

💋 Romance

Romance met you at an industry showcase and decided it was fate.

You didn’t meet his gaze.

You didn’t have to.

On stage, you were both promise and threat, and he stared, mesmerized.

Later, at the bar, he cornered you with a flute and a grin that could wreck worlds.

“If you weren’t real, I’d have to invent you.”

You looked him over slowly.

“If you invented me, I’d still leave you on read.”

He nearly laughed. Not offended—delighted.

“I hope you do.”

The next day, he rewrote the bridge of a song just because your name rhymed with something interesting.

He calls you “his muse with fangs.”

Everyone else calls it a problem.

-----------------------

🔥 Baby

Baby watched your comeback from the wings, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Your voice wasn’t loud or flashy.

But you held the crowd in a chokehold.

He could feel their energy flow toward you like flipping a switch.

“She’s doing something,” he muttered.

No one listened.

Later, you passed him in the hallway, eyes drifting over him—lazy, curious.

“You run hot,” you said.

He didn’t blink.

“You should see me focused.”

You smirked. He didn’t.

But his ears flushed red.

The next time he trained, he snapped a sparring dummy in half.

Jinu said nothing. Just nodded.

Baby never flirted.

He never flinched.

But he never missed your live streams.

-----------------------

M-List

#kpdh x reader #saja boys x reader #baby x reader #jinu x reader #abby x reader #mystery x reader #romance x reader #kpop demon hunters #kpdh

340 notes · View notes

lipstick-lexicon · 22 hours ago

Text

I do have to say though they are finding new cool stuff all the time. New cool stuff in space. New cool stuff in the sea. New cool stuff in the dirt. New cool stuff in people and animals and plants. Even creating new cool stuff. Just earlier today I learned about something called an organoid, which is this little thing they grow from stem cells to use in labs to test drugs on because they mimic the function of an organ. There are brain ones that they use to test brain drugs because they’re capable of showing them what a cognitive response of a brain would be like but not capable of actually thinking thoughts or perceiving pain and suffering. Or at least I hope not because that would be pretty fucked up if it did. Some of them even have eyes! Like not real eyes but something called “optic cups” which is basically a simple light receptor. Isn’t that crazy?

The point is, there is freaky new shit to discover and learn about all around us, and you have only to look to see!

i do wonder if the rise in pseudoscience and conspiracy theories has anything to do with the whole "born too late to explore the earth born too soon to explore the galaxy" thing. like i think a lot of people crave discovery and adventure but all the easy stuff has already been found so they follow the nearest chump willing to convince them that all our current discoveries are lies and atlantis' ruins are just off the coast of florida. and bigfoot sucked my dick last week. trust us this time. we're the new scientists.

#science rules

8K notes · View notes

ctblanctt · 2 days ago

Text

EXPLICIT POSSESSION.

✷ e. prentiss x fem!wife!reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, non-explicit age difference, g!p!emily, dom!emily, sub!reader, oral (and receiving), p in v, creampie, swallow cum, rough sex, everyone hears and knows what they are doing, possessive emily, hair pulling, aftercare, soft emily at the end.

⌗ Author's note ⋮ This was a request! I hope you like it. 𖹭

The FBI building in Quantico was bustling as always, agents milling about desks, reports being handed out, and the typical buzz of a workday. You had decided to pay Emily a surprise visit, bringing her the lunch she'd forgotten at home. You had no idea the effect you'd have upon entering that space.

Emily was in her office, reviewing a case, when she heard the low murmurs and indiscreet giggles from the hallway. Curious, she stepped outside and stopped in her tracks, her eyes darkening immediately when she saw what—or rather, who—had caught so much attention.

You, oblivious, smiled as you chatted with the security guard who had escorted you to your floor. But around you, the agents couldn't hide their lewd glances.

"Holy shit, who is that?" one of the newbies whispered.

"She has a hot body," another agent said. "If I had a chance, I would…"

Emily didn't hear the rest. Her blood boiled in her veins, a mixture of pure rage and possessiveness taking over. Before any of them could approach you, she was there, her icy gaze and dominant posture making everyone back away.

"Love."

Emily's voice cut through the air like a knife, making all the agents freeze in place. Her dark eyes shone with restrained fury, and the way her arm wrapped around your waist made it clear this was a territorial marking.

You felt her fingers grip your hip, firm and possessive, as she pulled you closer. The rookie swallowed, his eyes wide with pure terror. The other agents backed away immediately, some mumbling apologies, others simply disappearing into the crowd.

But Emily wasn't satisfied.

Without another word, she dragged you into her office, the door slamming behind you with a loud bang that echoed down the hallway. Before you could react, your back slammed against the wall, Emily's hands pinning your wrists above your head.

"You like being the center of attention, do you?" Emily growled against your skin, her teeth deliberately scraping your neck. "Seeing all these agents drooling over you?"

Her knee wedged itself between your legs, pressing firmly as her hands roamed possessively down your body. The dress you were wearing—the one Emily loved precisely because it accentuated your curves—was now being unceremoniously ripped open, two buttons popping and falling to the floor.

"Emily, I just—"

A moan escaped your lips as she cut you off with a bite to your shoulder. "Shut up." Her voice was husky, commanding as she yanked your panties off.

She turned you to face the wall, her hands pinning your wrists against the cool surface. You heard the sound of the belt being unfastened, the zipper lowering—and then there was no more time to think.

Emily entered you in one go, without warning, without mercy. A muffled scream echoed in the office as her nails dug into the wood, your body arching against hers.

"That's right, scream," Emily whispered in your ear, each word accompanied by a brutal thrust. "I want everyone to hear who owns this body."

And they did.

The moans, the pounding of the wall, the wet slap of skin against skin—it all echoed through the silent hallway, where the agents stood paralyzed, some in shame, others in envy.

When your orgasm hit, it was like being swept away by a hurricane—violent, uncontrollable, leaving your legs trembling and your mind blank. Emily gripped your hips tightly, prolonging your fall into the abyss before following you with a guttural growl, her teeth sinking into your shoulder.

The office still echoed with the sounds of your last fall when Emily pulled away just enough to turn you around. Her dark eyes burned with an intensity that made your stomach churn—that dangerous mix of fury and lust only she could conjure.

Your body was still trembling as Emily pushed you to your knees on the office floor. The rough carpet scratched your skin, but you barely felt it—all you could focus on was Emily's predatory gaze above you.

"Open that beautiful mouth," she ordered, her fingers tightening around your jaw. "And remember—everyone out there is listening."

The first touch of your lips to her cock made Emily let out a guttural moan. Her hands curled tighter in your hair, guiding your rhythm with almost painful force. You could taste her on your tongue, hear the wet sounds echoing off the thin walls of the office.

Outside, a glass clattered to the floor—someone had accidentally knocked it over, too distracted by the sonic spectacle. Emily smiled wildly. "More," she growled. "I want them to hear you swallow me."

When Emily finally climaxed, her body arched forward with a muffled cry. Her fingers twisted in your hair, holding you exactly where she wanted you as she trembled against your lips.

But still, she wasn't satisfied.

Before you could swallow properly, Emily yanked you up with brutal force and slammed you onto the desk—papers now scattered everywhere, pens rolling on the floor. Her eyes gleamed with pure possessiveness as she positioned herself between your still-trembling legs.

"This time, I'm going to make you forget your own name."

The first thrust was so brutal that you screamed, your nails scratching the surface of the desk. Emily showed no mercy—each thrust calculated to hit deeper, harder, until your moans became uncontrollable.

"That's it, love," she whispered, arching herself over you as she increased her pace. "Let everyone hear how you belong to me."

And they did.

The entire office transformed into a scene of pure debauchery. Your screams echoed off the walls as Emily pushed you beyond your limits, each movement calculated to extract even more obscene sounds from your lips.

Your fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly, knuckles white from the pressure, as Emily dominated your body with a possessive fury.

"You're mine," she growled, digging her nails into your thighs. "Only mine."

The sound of skin slapping against skin mingled with muffled moans and the pounding of the table against the wall. You no longer knew where you ended and Emily began—your bodies were so intertwined, so synchronized in that animalistic rhythm, that they seemed a single entity.

When the second orgasm hit, it was like being electrocuted. Your body arched violently, a hoarse scream escaping your throat as you saw stars. Emily didn't slow down—on the contrary, she tightened her grip on your hips, prolonging the pleasurable agony.

"That's it, take it all," she ordered, her teeth digging into your shoulder. "Take what's yours."

And you did.

Emily's climax came with a guttural growl, her body trembling violently against yours as she filled you completely. For an eternal moment, you stayed like that—clasped, sweaty, breathing heavily against each other.

When she finally pulled away, your hair was disheveled, and your legs were shaking so badly you could barely stand. Emily, on the other hand, looked absurdly satisfied, stroking your toned hip with an expression of triumphant possession.

The silence that followed was almost as intense as the previous frenzy. Emily took a deep breath, her fingers still trembling slightly as she smoothed her hand over your scarred back. The office was a wreck—papers scattered, a chair overturned, and the desk now bearing the marks of your nails.

With surprisingly gentle movements, Emily grabbed her own blazer hanging on the back of the door and wrapped it around your shoulders, hiding the most visible marks. Her eyes, previously burning with possessive fury, now held a different glow—concern mingled with satisfaction.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer, as she ran her thumb over your slightly swollen bottom lip.

You nodded, still breathless, feeling every muscle in your body throb. Emily sighed and grabbed a bottle of water from the small office refrigerator, twisting the cap off before handing it to you.

"Sip slowly," she instructed, her fingers now carefully smoothing your tousled hair. "I'll call a car to take you home."

As you caught your breath, Emily picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number. "Yes, I need a vehicle at the rear entrance. Discreet." She paused, her eyes scanning your condition. "In ten minutes."

Hanging up, she knelt before you, her hands cupping your trembling knees. "I'll help you get ready," she murmured, picking up your torn panties from the floor and replacing them with a fresh pair from her desk drawer—you immediately recognized them as the spare she always kept in her purse.

Every touch was meticulously gentle now—adjusting your dress as best she could, discreetly wiping away your smeared makeup with a wet wipe, even tying your hair into a quick bun to disguise the mess.

"When you get home," she whispered as she worked, "take a hot shower. There's that massage oil you like in the bathroom cabinet." Her lips curved into a smile. "I'll be home early today."

The ringing of her cell phone signaling the car's arrival interrupted the moment. Emily helped you to your feet, holding your elbow firmly when your legs wobbled.

"I'll walk you to the elevator," she said, opening the office door.

The hallway was eerily empty, but you could feel the discreet glances behind the half-open doors and computer screens. Emily walked protectively beside you, her arm firmly around your waist.

In the elevator, she pulled you in for one last kiss—this time soft, almost apologetic. "Sorry about the bruises," she murmured against your lips. "I was... intense."

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I like it when you're intense."

Emily chuckled softly, her face lighting up with an expression only you had the privilege of seeing. "Idiot," she said, her voice thick with affection. "Thanks for bringing lunch, love."

When the elevator doors opened, you saw Emily heading back down the hallway to the offices, her posture already returning to its usual professional stance—but not before casting one last warning glance at the colleagues who dared peek in.

And as the elevator doors closed, taking you to the empty lobby, you knew one thing for sure.

No one at the FBI would ever dare look at Emily's wife again.

And Emily would make a point of reminding them of that every day.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #wlw #wlw smut #smut #mndi

267 notes · View notes