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gay-dorito-dust · 23 days

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Could I request Welt, Dan Heng, Sunday, Gepard, and Argenti finding their s/o's poetry collection of them?

Argenti:

Would sit himself down somewhere nearby and read every last poem, each one leaving him with a full heart, butterflies in his stomach and another addition to the list of reasons why he adored your creative soul.

He’s extremely honoured that you decided to chose him as your muse for your poems, for he could feel the love and respect you have for him through your writing, before holding the collections of poetry made in his name against his chest as he beamed with happiness.

He’d even openly praise you for your works if he were to see you later on in the day, which would make you understandably upset and embarrassed that he went through your things, but with the way that he passionately talked about your writing and the look upon his face that clearly shown his appreciation and admiration for poetry.

At the end you’re the one who ends up being flustered whilst Argenti was still sending appraisal after appraisal your way, all the while re-reading your works and proudly reciting his favourite passages without shame.

Sunday:

He thought it was sweet that you write poetry about him.

He didn’t feel as though he was invading your privacy at all, seeing as how he’d like to claim that whatever of yours was now also his by osmosis…totally not because he’s fishing for stuff to hold over you and maintain control should you act out…

Anyway- he’s taking his sweet time reading each and every poem you’ve written with him in mind and smiling at the hold he’s taken within your heart, finding it fascinating what adoration could make one do just to express their whole array of emotions.

It was almost as though they were on some timer that others couldn’t see just to express all their innermost feelings towards the special person in their life. Then again love tended to make people feel as though they were invincible, so the unthinkable and accomplish things that they never thought that they were capable of achieving in the first place.

So it didn’t matter whether or not you were able to wax poetry before him, but it was obvious to Sunday that the moment he had taken hold of your life and your every thought, poetry has became your primary outlet for feelings that you weren’t nearly brave enough to say aloud to him. Rest assured however for that day will come for you to open up about those unspoken feelings of yours…sooner or later.

Gepard:

He feels as though he was invading your privacy by reading your poetry collection and wanted to leave before he’d inevitably get caught, but just as he was about to take his leave, he stopped when the title of the first poem caught his eye;

Everlasting winter

He found himself reading through the first few opening sentences and immeditly made connections between himself and the person within your poem. To say it didn’t take long for Gepard to realises that the similarities between him and the person in your poem were purely intentional, and that he was the one the poem was actual about.

His face was blossoming red upon the realisation and averted his eyes elsewhere as he takes in the fact that you found him a perfect enough muse for your poetry. Him, the man who couldn’t hold a tune to save his life, grows flowers that unfortunately don’t last long, and wasn’t possessed with the basic skills of drawing.

And yet you found something about him that was worth writing poem after poem about. He didn’t know why that was but he was appreciative that you found something in him that urged you into written it down on paper, where your affection and admiration for him would be forever immortalised…He also may or may not have taken a poem to read to himself later on at night.

Dan heng:

He had noticed that you left a piece of paper laying about one day and was about to call out to you and give it back, while scolding you for leaving your messes everywhere for him to pick up after, only to see that it was in fact a poem about him.

Red faced, Dan Heng still planned on taking the poem back to you and journeyed to your room where he found that the door was left ajar, but could immeditly tell that your room was empty. Sighing, Dan Heng opened the door and quickly made his way towards your desk, where’d he found more poems in regards to him.

Much like Gepard, Dan Heng felt as though he was reading something he shouldn’t but he found himself unable to look away as he was secretly tempted to know how you viewed him. What he found was nothing short of you portraying him in a way that he’s never quite thought of himself before. If he wasn’t already so easily made flustered by your words alone, your writing was enough to put the poor man into a catatonic state.

Dan Heng wasn’t use to being smothered in a love like yours. Where you felt as though speaking your love for him wasn’t nearly enough, so you had to expand and start writing it instead in the form of poetry. He doesn’t feel as though he’s deserving of it but isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and is more then willing to try to accept the fact that you care deeply for him; especially when he can not find it within him to find anything about him remotely worth being with.

Welt:

He’s made copious amounts of drawings of you that he’s kept hidden in his room. So upon coming across your poetry collection about him, it only made him feel more comfortable knowing that he wasn’t the only one to express his innermost feelings through an art form.

Besides it wasn’t like he was actively searching your room for your poetry collection, he really wasn’t as he just came across them out of pure coincidence. He was currently about four poetries deep and was finding it extremely endearing how you viewed him in most of your writing: which was mainly as an well educated, wise man with a young man’s heart and restlessness sense for adventure, who had a talent for drawing.

Welt would chuckle under his breath at all the moments you’ve shared together, before you’d then went on to write about how beautiful he was in every possible way. From his sweet, insightful eyes that seemingly held all the knowledge you could ever ask for, to his calming, velvety voice that could lull you into a deep sleep within seconds.

You posed him as this figure of comfort, a figure of warmth and Welt soon finding himself not so subtly sneaking some of your poetry into his pocket to read for later. Your poetry only gives Welt the confidence he been looking for, as he would then starts to leave his drawings of you in places where you’d be able to see them; all in hopes that you would know that you had just as much of a huge place in his heart as he did in yours.

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cartierre · 9 months

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SINCE WAY BACK | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!black!producer!reader (fc: alexis carrington)

side note: drake is aged up in this because i want y/n to be born around 2000/2001 but that would mean drake was 14/15 when he became a dad... so he's just a few years older here to make it more believable okay? great. side note pt2: there are so many long twitter threads used to explain the whole backstory. like, really really long. i didn't know how else to explain everything, i'm sorry.

♡ liked by champagnepapi, mclaren, octobersveryown and 829,938 others

tagged: mclaren, octobersveryown

f1 BREAKING: October's Very Own (OVO) joins the McLaren team as their new primary sponsor for the 2023 season.

#F1 #Formula1 #McLaren

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user1 what the fuck is drake doing here

user2 i'm actually so gagged like what is happening why is drake invested in f1 all of a sudden

user3 this is such an odd pairing? drake and zak brown together feels like a fever dream

user4 drake joining f1 as a sponsor was definitely not on my 2023 bingo card

user5 caitlyn jenner buying a whole w series team is less surprising than whatever this is

♡ liked by yourusername, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 187,385 others

lando.jpg adonis is teaching me how to play basketball because otherwise he "cannot accept me" i've been humbled by a 5 year old

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user6 is that the girl he might or might not be dating ⤷ user7 i need to know otherwise i might die (i won't but the suspense is killing me)

user8 WHO IS THAT GIRL LANDO

user9 is this you trying to soft launch or is she just a platonic friend?

user10 "fans" going insane because they can't handle the thought of lando having female friends as well

user11 he's not even tagging anyone omg now i have to scroll through all the people he follows. lando is not making my job easy

(private account)

♡ liked by centralcee, jorjasmith_, landonorris and 637 others

y/n_graham why am i trending on twitter and why is everyone uncovering my childhood

view all 45 comments

landonorris i think this is my fault ⤷ y/n_graham you and your jpg ⤷ landonorris my camera lense is just so mesmerised by your beauty ⤷ y/n_graham your compliments won't get you out of trouble

centralcee i'm literally getting dms asking about you ⤷ y/n_graham i woke up to 15,000 people trying to follow me

jorjasmith_ lando's fans are literally fbi agents ⤷ y/n_graham i'm making so many backup files of my music projects because i'm scared someone will hack into my laptop now

♡ liked by 238,273 others

f1wags Y/N Graham, daughter of Canadian rapper Drake, was photographed by a fan outside the venue in Greece where Lando Norris, her rumoured boyfriend, was playing this weekend. None of the two have confirmed nor deniend the relationship allegations that have been going around for a few months now. An inside source, which attended the party, revealed how the two behaved very intimate with each other.

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user12 girl it's been nearly four months since the rumours started... can one of them just please either confirm or deny them?

user13 at this point i'm just over the whole drama. let them have their privacy i guess

user14 this drama is juicier than when the whole oscar-alpine-mclaren fiasco happened

user15 i'm this close to ripping my hair out why is this rumour been going on for AGES i just want a simple statement already

♡ liked by y/n_graham, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 374,947 others

tagged: y/n_graham, champagnepapi

lando.jpg bonding family time, got to support the father in law ;)

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user16 EXCUSE ME WDYM FATHER IN LAW? is this a joke or real ⤷ y/n_graham we're not married, don't worry ⤷ user17 OMG Y/N MADE HER ACCOUNT PUBLIC JUST NOW

champagnepapi i like the sound of "father in law" ⤷ lando.jpeg i know you would ⤷ y/n_graham no no no

user18 okay from what i've gathered drake and lando are on good terms ⤷ user19 bet that's why drake sponsored mclaren lmao ⤷ y/n_graham no but deadass

user20 y/n fighting for her life in the comments lmaoooo ⤷ y/n_graham in the trenches

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vanilladove · 5 months

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♡ Helloo, I saw that your requests are open, so can I request being the wife of Jouno [: ? Just Hcs and if you want a scenario (or sth else)

I'm gonna leave the rest up to you, I hope you have fun writing it and Thank you ^^

ugh i absolutely love jouno😻 he's so underrated, and i think this trope is adorable ♥︎ i added some spicy stuff oops

png creds eundior

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: jouno x wife!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: fluff + suggestive (sex mentions)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: some nsfw content in the last section; read at your own discretion

~in general...

Husband!Jouno is the definition of "when he hates everyone but you". He only shows his soft side to you.

Gifted you a matching red rope earring with a bell that you wear on the opposite ear ♥︎

Despite making fun of and degrading literally everyone on the daily, Jouno craves your praise to the point where he'll get needy and start begging for reassurance lol.

Gets sassy during arguments/when you haven't given him enough praise and will use his ability to dissipate into thin air every time you get close to him until you eventually cave in and apologize/compliment him XD

Since he still needs to fulfill his evil urges but doesn't want to offend you, he resorts to teasing and excessive flirting. Won't give you any peace bc he picks up on every reaction.

Bc he’s constantly snarky and rude to others, his love language is words of affirmation since he saves his kindness for you.

~relationship dynamics

Extremely protective & possessive: whenever you're both in public, he always has an arm wrapped around you or on your shoulder; whenever passerbys ogle you or try to signal dirty things to you (they usually try stuff bc they notice that Jouno's blind), he always calls them out menacingly, threatening them enough to send them running away in fear.

Becomes your primary provider, basically making you a housewife lol. He would justify you not working/make you work from home bc he wants to keep you safe from people targeting him for being a Hunting Dog/ex-criminal executive.

When he's stressed after a busy day of mocking tecchou work, the first thing he does when he comes home is cuddle with you and listen to your heartbeat...it's basically like his white noise/comfort sound :,(

Basically your entire presence comforts him, probably lowkey develops attachment issues like a needy kitten hehe

Not much privacy between you two bc of his Super Senses™. He knows your heartbeat and "default" body settings (breathing patterns, fidgets, etc.) better than his own.

Because of this, he always wins arguments or gets the last word...

"Hmmph. I'm not mad"

"Yeah? Wanna explain why your heartbeat got faster then? Or why you exhaled loudly?"

"..."

"Ur mad :p"

You guys probably listen to ASMR together lol

Never strays too far from you and always is wrapped around you: hugging you from behind + resting his chin on your shoulder/kissing your neck whenever you're cooking or shopping for groceries.

Brings your home-cooked meals to work everyday (they're his fav food) and brags about how good his wife's food is (especially to Tecchou)

"An unrefined idiot like you would never understand the luxury of a wife's--what the hell, Tecchou? Are you putting chocolate syrup on your sushi?"

Since he’s blind, most of his compliments are about your personality and actions. He goes crazy from your signature perfume and prefers when you wear soft clothes (they’re the best for cuddling).

Occasionally, he’ll comment on how beautiful you are, even though he can’t actually see you. Whenever you mention that, he responds that he “just knows it’s true”. Otherwise, I think he would give you cheesy compliments about how you have “a beautiful aura” and stuff like that lol.

Husband!Jouno’s the type to easily become a yandere…

~spicy🤫

Husband!Jouno is a big fan of phone sex since he's needy and can't stand being away from you or not hearing your voice.

Likes eating you out/fingering you bc he can hear the heartbeat down there.

Forces you to not hide your voice, but doesn't actually care since he can still clearly hear your muffled moans.

An expert at dirty talk and won't shut up during sexy time...hopefully you have a praise/degrading kink...

Even though he mostly stays gentle with you, I think he still has a bit of a dacryphilia kink and is into impact play + rough sex bc of his past personality (。-∀-)

~fluffy vignette ♥︎

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"...."

Jouno already knew who was aggressively pounding on his office door. The two biggest idiots in the Hunting Dogs: Teruko and Tecchou. He scrunched his nose as a foul odor from behind the door crept up on him. Whatever it was, he wanted it gone. He had a plan: pretend he wasn't there until they lef--

"Oi, Jouno, we know you're in there! Open up, Damn it! Your captain's commanding you!" Teruko demanded in her usual high-pitched squeaky voice, now banging on the door. Still in line with his original plan, Jouno only remained silent since the last thing he wanted was to let the two smelly intruders into his clean, precious space.

"Captain, maybe he's not in there. It is almost lunch time, so he--" Tecchou started.

"Shut up! We already checked the break room, so--" Teruko suddenly went silent as her hand passed over the door knob, "Hey, it's unlocked..." Jouno winced as he heard her twist the knob and storm in along with Tecchou--not reacting fast enough to use his ability and escape the scene. He cringed as the smell assualted his senses; it was one that was too familiar--Captain Fukuchi's vomit. He impulsively plugged his nose as his face twisted. "See, Techhou, told'ya he was in here. What do have to say for yourself, huh, Jouno?"

Jouno only turned away disgustedly. "I didn't open the door for a reason, Captain. Some of us value hygiene around here. Plus you two stink--unless you're here for a reason, disrespectfully, leave." Jouno coughed dramatically, "I'm about to pass out."

Shock crossed Teruko and Tecchou's faces from the blatant rudeness, and before his hot-headed senior could go off on Jouno for 'disrespecting his elders', Tecchou butted in. "The captain threw up after drinking too much again, so we tried to clean it up since he has a meeting in an hour, but the smell won't go away, even though we tried everything." He clenched his fists sadly, "I even put flowers all over the pile on it to cover up the smell...I guess they died for nothing..."

Flowers? Over a pile of vomit? Now Jouno didn't know if he was going to pass out from the stench or the idiocy of his coworkers. Teruko sighed deeply, "After that, I tried using air freshener, but that made it smell worse somehow...Anyways, we were going to ask you if you knew where the bleach is."

"You two...Did you both lose all your braincells?" Jouno couldn't be more disappointed in everyone, starting with his raging alcoholic of a captain. Next, he turned to Tecchou, "What kind of moron uses flowers for cleaning? We're the Hunting Dogs, not the Hunting Fairies" He sighed as he felt a migraine forming, "God, I wish you would just di--" Jouno paused when he heard a familiar chime in the distance. Once he had confirmed a special someone's footsteps, he took off running, yelling to "call the janitors" and leaving the two confused behind him.

You sighed as you walked into the break room, bowing politely to thank the security guard for leading you there. You placed the lunchbox down on a table and held your face in embarrassment. You'd unknowingly slept in this morning and didn't have enough time to make or pack Jouno's lunch. It'd become an unspoken norm between the two of you to wake up at the same time, and you would cook a meal and stock up Jouno's work snacks while he got ready. Even though he never asked you to do it before, it became a habit after you'd gotten married. He'd always tease you about your "cute little housewife tendencies" like he wasn't the one who'd secretly made you into one. You were just about to call him to say you were there until you felt a strong pair of arms swiftly wrap around you.

"I missed you~" Your husband expressed, pulling you into a chair and seating you on his lap. You yelped as he buried his head into your chest and inhaled your scent. He adored the scent of your favorite perfume and the way you smelled like your shared home--like his. Jouno groaned as he drowned out the world listening to your heartbeat and you both shared an intimate moment of silence.

Smiling to yourself, you ran your fingers through his soft white hair as he pulled you closer. It was clear that he was stressed. "What's wrong, dear?" You asked, massaging his temples.

You giggled as he explained the situation and rubbed his shoulders. "Ah, I see. That sounds like something those two would do..." You looked down to the original reason you came, "Oh, right! I brought your lunch--it's your favorite," you paused, "Sorry for sleeping in today...You should've said something to wake me up..."

Jouno finally dug his head out of your chest to look up at you. "Oh, about that, I didn't wake you up on purpose. Your breathing was just so peaceful that I didn't want to disturb you..." You pursed your lips at that. "Besides, I knew you'd come to visit me at work! It's a win-win situation in the end!" You blushed at your husband's teasing; he'd won another one of his silly games yet again.

"Jeez...just wake me up next time...Anyways, I bought you some strawberry cake since there's a bakery close to the headquarters! Think of it as a thanks for all your hard work!" You perked, kissing his forehead lightly. It definitely wasn't meant to be an apology cake or bought because you were craving sweets.

"Yeah?" Jouno smirked, reveling in your praise. He caressed your sides, "My hard work, huh? What else about me are you thankful for?" You pouted as you realized you'd just been caught in a compliment trap--how gullible you were. It didn't help that Jouno was looking up straight at you and kneading your soft skin over your long dress.

Blushing, you started, "I'm thankful that you take care of me and our home. You're the bust cuddle partner...You have pretty hair and a nice voice, you're strong and..." You were about to continue until you looked to see Jouno's flushed face, he nuzzled into your chest again, muttering "I love you" lowly.

You beamed at the precious sight and lifted your husband's face up to yours. "I love you too, Jouno, so much." You brought your lips to his and kissed him sweetly, your red nails tugging softly on his hair and drawing quiet groans from him. He passionately kissed you back, hugging you tightly and angling your face to deepen the kiss, noting the way your heartbeat got faster and how your muscles relaxed in ease.

You pulled away suddenly after hearing koncks on the door, much to Jouno's disappointment. "It's just the janitor, we can still--"

"It's fine," You sighed, gently getting up from his lap and fixing your dress, "I'm meeting with some friends soon, so I should get going. You've got stuff to get back to, too. The world still needs saving!" Jouno pouted at that, missing your warmth on him and the sound of your pulse in his ears. "I'll see you at home, then. Keep up the good work!" You jokingly patted his head and turned away towards the door before he quickly grabbed the lunchbox and took your hand. He didn't want you to leave him just yet.

"W-wait, I'll walk you out. This place is big, so you might get lost. Security might not let you out since they won't recognize you. And there might be someone suspicious outsi--"

You giggled at his rambling, "Okay, I get it. Let's go~" You pulled him along and he wrapped his arm around your waist to lead you to the exit. He couldn't believe how utterly whipped he'd become for you, his beloved wife. His cheeks were red like the tips of his hair as he held your face and kissed you goodbye, watching as you drove away.

While the world knew Jouno as a sadistic ex-criminal fighting for justice, only you knew his soft side as a devoted and loving husband that would do anything for his pretty wife ♥︎

#vanilladove #vanilladovebsd #bungo stray dogs #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #jouno saigiku #saigiku jōno #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff #bsd #bsd x reader #saigiku jouno x reader #not me repeating scenarios bye...#chat is this rushed

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anlian-aishang · 5 months

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SNK Men - Masturbation Habits - Levi, Erwin, Eren, Armin, Jean, Reiner, Zeke [nsfw]

Levi

Masturbates in the shower. Levi deems it as a way to save time, to keep his sheets and clothes from getting too dirty. He hates to admit it, but something about sex makes him sweat easily. Even more shameful, he is weak to the flow of scalding water on his skin and the way it melts his reserves, inhibitions down the drain. The echo of tile walls amplifies the smacks of his hand around his cock, making it easier to imagine it's your pussy around him instead. Feigning the priority of cleanliness, he grants himself an excuse to be filthy. Levi sees masturbation as a last resort, something to rely on when he can’t have the real thing. As such, when by himself, he finishes fast. Three minutes of ferocity, white-knuckle holds of the shower bar and his erection. Toes curl tight against slippery tile. Soap trickles down his bangs and into his eyes. Squeezing them shut, he relies on imagined scenes to get him there. Strives to stay silent, but especially when it's been too long, not even Ackerman can prevent the grunts and swears from escaping. At the sound of his own succumbing, his ears, cheeks, chest flush red. On comedown, he deliberately jerks the metal handle to cold with hopes that, by the time he steps out and sees the mirror’s reflection, his fucked-out state will not stare him back.

Erwin

Gets off at his desk. It’s always the end of the quarter that his sex drive surges. Though it’s inconvenient at best and incapacitating at worst, he has come to understand why. A cruel chain reaction: work piles up, his mind multitasks to its bitter end, and at that end is a pure, carnal desire for reprieve. His signature grows illegible with the way his hand is shaking. He is making mistakes and making them in ink. Erwin clenched his fist, nails dug into his palm, but neither his erection nor filthy thoughts will die down. His hand is big, but his cock is bigger. The ratio aids his fantasy, trying to pretend it's your grasp wrapped around him instead. Erwin pumps himself a couple palms full of the lotion that others find so innocuously stored on top of his desk, lays a path of tissues on the pad of his office chair, and shuts his blinds as well as his eyes. Left hand works his member tight from tip to base. Right hand undoes his top button and hooks itself on the loop of his tie, allowing his breaths to deepen, and they do. Erwin growls through it. After this many successive nights of overtime, he deserves these minutes of release from those reins. Squeezing so hard that the veins in his biceps rise. Exhales harsh, fogging the oak of his desk top. Toes curl in his leather shoes. Words fail him as he climaxes to the thought of you barging in on him - loud grunts and moans of your name all the man can muster.

Eren

Lays back on the sofa. Unspeakable yearnings have brought him to this point. It was not only that he was unable to make it to the privacy of his bedroom. More accurately, Eren was so caught up in his fantasy that he couldn't care less if he were walked-in on. Lying on his back, his right hand slithers beneath the hem of his shirt and hikes it to his teeth. Abdomen exposed to less stifling air. At the same time, his left hand handles his belt, button, zipper before tugging his waistband to rest at his upper thighs. Eren leans his head back over the armrest, airway straightened, low yet loud vocals fill the room. Running his fingers through his hair, his elastic band snaps and lets his locks flow freely. Even with his eyes closed, his thumb lands right atop the lotion bottle - an old habit - and pumps a couple ounces into his hand. The unexpected cold draws a few hisses and curses, but before long, the fierce friction of his hand has converted it: hot like the rest of him. Even though he is reclined back, Eren is an active masturbator. His left hand has one job, one primary motion, but his right hand plays himself. Palm over his chest, fingertips pinching his jawline. Legs squirm, heels jut - all threatening to rip the leather couch. Instead of damaging the space around him, he takes that tension out on himself: cock sore, nipples bruised, scratches on his abdomen - but nothing that his sweatshirts can’t hide.

Armin

Shuts himself in his closet. An unexpectedly experienced masturbator, yet the shame Armin feels is disproportionately tremendous. Not even his bedroom is private enough, Arlert retreats to his locked closet, barely large enough to fit his clothes, let alone him. The blonde leans back against his wooden, creaky dresser and props his feet on the opposite wall. On the way to grab himself, his arm twitches: do you really need this? He tilts his head back and sighs: yes, you do. Armin dips his fingers into his mouth and pretends that they’re yours. Sucks them deliberately as he aims to keep quiet. As his tugs grow tighter, fuller, that sucking becomes sloppy, though. Overstimulated cries demand his lips fall from a circle to a helpless part. His breaths are brisk on his skin, covered in his own saliva. Soon enough, his tongue is flopping in frantic indecision: keep quiet or cry your name? That tug-of-war results in a submissive symphony for his reddened ears alone. But at least you can’t hear it. But what if you did? For what he lacks in confidence, he makes up for in imagination. Armin softens his grip to match the way he thought you would hold him. First, your fingers. Then, your presence. Now, your contact. Once his walls have weakened past the point of disbelief, and only once he convinces himself that you’re the one working him can he get himself to his toe-curling, back-breaking climax.

Jean

It always starts on his bed. Lazily palming himself on his mattress, Jean is rather carefree. Masturbation is not something he plans, but something he indulges in when he feels like it. It’s just one of those things. It is not something he lets himself anticipate all day, nor is it something he approaches with shame. Before he wakes up or before he drifts to sleep, it will cost only a little energy but help him rest. It’s the lie he tells himself, arousal his most gullible state. Less than a minute after he begins, Jean is panting, drooling, burying himself into his pillow. Swears muffled as he envelops his twitching cock in his similarly trembling hand. In working hours, he keeps his thoughts for you under wraps. When the sun is down, though, so is his façade of composure. Oh, the things he wants to do to you. More than that, what fucks him up is the thought of what you would do to him. Tendons strain and cast shadows on his neck, a desperate attempt to subdue his needy vocals. In this one session, the scenarios he has fantasized over have flashed faster than seconds. In that way, he thinks he must have lasted a while. In reality, everything is skewed. When he goes for days, sometimes weeks, without release, that release is difficult to delay. His pent-up dam demands a break: the uncatchable shot of his warm seed through his fingers and onto his sheets. He always thinks that climax will wind him down, but instead, it gets him up and out of bed, to the laundry machines.

Reiner

Slams himself against the door. Panting hard before he can even unbuckle and unzip himself. He’s ashamed to admit it all: how badly he wants to cum, how badly he needs to. The desperate rasp in his throat and the way it bounces off his bedroom walls turns his blush ablaze. He manages a squint and the sight of his bed, but the stagger in his legs tells him that he won’t make the walk. Reiner leans back against the wooden slate, one hand around his cock, one hand clutching the doorknob for stability. Eyes rolled back into his head. Hair a mess after this many runs of his hand through it. Inhales hiss through his teeth. Exhales shake on their fall past his lips. Looking down at himself, he notices the way his abdomen ripples with blood flow and wonders if you’d like that. He could practically hear you, the way you would dip your fingers into his mouth and pry, beckoning his moans and encouraging their volume. His imagination of what else you would do drives the speed and force of his hand. Pants crumpled at his ankles bind his legs to the perfect spread. His back is soaked with cold sweat, slicking and sticking him to his bedroom door. The flicks of his wrist are automatic now, racing to catch up with the snowball effect in his mind: you you you. With one final, nearly sadistic yank, he brings himself to finish - the sensation just as incoherent as his calls of your name.

Zeke

Tucks himself into bed. To Zeke, masturbation is a ritual, religiously stocked with offerings. From the drawer of his bedside table, he removes fire-and-ice lubrication and a ten-inch fleshlight. Atop the nightstand, a pack of cigarettes and his reflective lighter wait to accompany his comedown. He removes his glasses and sets them aside. By a thumb on his waistband, he peels his briefs down and flings them into the hamper across the room, satisfied with his aim. Zeke deliberately clashes his teeth together, trying to resist the admission of how good the initial sheathe feels. This is his relaxation time and he intends to savor it. His spank bank is rich with both fond memories and colorful fantasies. Playing them back in his mind, he accompanies the scenes with his own vocalizations, beating himself to the rhythm of your ass as it bounced around his cock, or the way your head bobbed back and forth around him. Most men last only a few minutes. Zeke basks in his average time of one hour. Edging himself on and on, chuckling maniacally each time he - to his own surprise - manages to wean himself off at the last second. His arm does not tire. His images are endless. It is only after the friction reaches an unbearable burn and his wrist begins to cramp that Zeke decides to give in, though he didn’t like to phrase it that way. Tilting his head back, his exhale is deceptively cool as his hot cum soaks his sleeve. It takes a couple flicks of his lighter, and many more involuntary twitches, though, until the pleasure truly ends.

// masterlist //

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helen-with-an-a · 26 days

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Clumsy

Hi. So this was a request that I thought was such a cute idea. I hope you enjoy it.

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Description: Moments were Lucy helps take care of R when she's clumsy

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Injury

You were clumsy. That had been a fact of life since you were born. In nursey, you had a designated Mr Bump ice pack that was used solely by you. In primary school, the office lady who doubled as the nurse was your best friend, often spending more of your playtime with her getting something patched up than running around with your friends. In secondary school, things didn’t get any better. You often sported random bruises that you didn’t know where they came from. You would think that being placed into a sport that required a level of coordination and skill from a young age and then becoming a professional footballer would improve your balance and dexterity, yet you were often on the ground in matches due to your own idiocy rather than a harsh shove or poorly timed tackle from the opposition.

The bruises to your ego hurt more than the ones on your skin, but you often just laughed it off, accepting the hands that came to help pick you up off the floor and wipe away the grass stains. The hand that, more often than not, belonged to Lucy. She was always the first to come to your aid with a poorly concealed laugh and a kind smile. In a match, it was followed by a raised eyebrow and a squeeze to your shoulder as she shook her head, trying to remain professional on the pitch. In training, it was a gentle kiss to the forehead and an arm around your waist as she steadied you. In your daily life outside the training ground, you could never fully fall as she often tucked you safely into her side or had a firm, supportive grip on you if that wasn’t possible. In your own home's privacy, you could hardly move without Lucy fretting over you. She had seen too many injuries occur for you to be allowed to do much without her personal supervision – not that you really minded your girlfriend’s near-permanent presence.

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

It was a wet and windy day as you battled it out on the pitch. It was not the most ideal conditions to play in regardless, but with your inability to stay on your feet, you were having more trouble than most. You were making a run up the wing when you tripped, stumbling over your own feet as you went flying, skidding painfully along the sodden grass. You groaned, embarrassed that you had, once again, ended up face down on the pitch. You lay there for a minute, waiting for your mind to catch up with what happened before rolling onto your back.

“You good, love?” Lucy laughed as she came to your side.

“Ow,” you groaned, but reaching for her to help pull you back to standing.

“Are you ok?” Lucy asked again, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder as you drew level with her again.

“Yeh, sweets, I’m ok,” you sighed, wiping the worst of the mud off your jersey. Her eyebrow raised, silently asking if you were being honest with her. "I might be a little sore tomorrow, but I’m okay,” you mused. You had gone down a little harder than normal and could already feel the ache in your body as a result.

“Do you need to come off, bubba?” She asked, face full of concern as she scanned you discreetly.

“No, I’m ok. My ego took more of a battering than I did,” you laughed, lifting your shoulder to trap Lucy’s hand between it and your cheek. She squeezed three times and winked at you. You stuck your tongue out in an attempt to playfully lick her hand, demonstrating to her that you were clearly fine.

“C’mon, then. Let’s try to stay vertical with your feet on the ground for the rest of the match, shall we?” Lucy teased as you moved back into your respective positions.

“I can try, but I make no promises,” you joked back, grinning widely at her as you separated.

She shook her head at you. “I love you,” you mouthed at her.

“I love you,” she mouthed back.

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

“Shit,” you said as you stumbled up the stairs to the training pitches.

“Careful, idiota maldestre.” Aitana called as she came to steady you.

“Mi héroe,” you thanked her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “And I’m not an idiot. I might be clumsy, but I’m not an idiot.” You slipped her into a headlock that she quickly broke out of.

You came to stand beside Lucy in the huddle before training started, her arm automatically drawing you into her side.

“No quiero ninguna herida,” Jona said as he finished his pre-training speech, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer than everyone else. You just smiled at him.

“Now, what are we going to do today, love?” Lucy asked in a serious tone, but you knew she was teasing. Her hands came to rest on your hips as the others split off into their training pairs.

“Stay upright,” you replied in an equally severe voice.

“Good.” She squeezed you lightly before glancing around and pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. You rolled your eyes at her antics and beamed anyway.

Your promise only lasted about 20 minutes. You were in a trio with Alexia and Patri; Alexia pushed against you with a yoga ball as Patri passed the ball for you to kick back. It was going well. You remained strong and firm, leaning back into the shoving and stabilising your core muscles. But you were so focused on keeping your body straight that you forgot where you planted your feet.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed as you went tumbling to the ground, Alexia and the giant blue ball following you. Patri stood, slightly stunned, as her group was no longer in front of her; instead, there was a pile of limbs on the floor. “Ay, dios mío. Estás bien?” Patri asked, recognising the grimace of pain on your face. “Ow,” you winced as you tried to wiggle it. Now standing again, Alexia left your side, heading toward your girlfriend.

“Bubba?” Lucy’s concerned voice reached you as you shifted to sitting, her hand coming to rub your back as she crouched by your side.

“I’m ok, sweets. It’s just my ankle. I put my foot down wrong.” You tried to move it again, but it didn’t hurt, though it definitely felt funny.

“Ok, let’s get you up and to the medics.” Lucy moved to help you up, taking most of your weight. You gently added more pressure to your foot, relaxing slightly as no pain radiated up your leg. “What did I ask you about injuries?” Lucy sighed dramatically as she guided you to the bench where the physio was waiting.

“I’m sorry,” you said guiltily, your cheeks flaring with an embarrassed blush.

“I know you are, love,” she said, depositing you on the seat and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “No funny business,” she said seriously as she cupped your face. "And listen to the doctors.” You nodded, taking her hand and kissing her palm lightly.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” she answered, equally as quiet before she returned to training.

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

“Anem, anem,” Aitana chanted, her excited calls encouraging everyone to increase their speed as you walked to Manuela’s. There was finally a break in the busy schedule, so naturally, you used it to your advantage. The drinks were flowing, and the carefree atmosphere helped relax you immensely.

“Oops,” you muttered under your breath as you tripped over the uneven pavement. You didn’t go very far, not with Lucy's iron grip on your hand.

“Okay?” She asked you as you shook off the jolt.

“Yeh. You saved me, sweets. My knight in shining armour.” You lifted your intertwined hands and pressed a loving kiss on the back of hers.

“Ew, ustedes dos son asquerosas,” Mapi gagging as she fell in step with you. You clicked your teeth.

“Girl, you have no leg to stand on with that. You and Ingrid are so in love, it’s hideous to witness.” You laughed at how offended she seemed.

“Es cierto,” Lucy agreed. Ingrid giggled at her girlfriend’s expression.

“Uhh, mi Princesa, no deberías estar de acuerdo con ellos.” Mapi continued, outraged at the apparent attack on her relationship.

“She just recognises the truth,” you goaded, drawing Ingrid closer as she swung her arm around your shoulders.

“Relax, min skjønnhet. She’s only teasing.” Ingrid placated her girlfriend, extending her hand out for Mapi to take. You watched as she and Mapi fell into a quiet conversation, love clear on both of their faces. You turned to look at Lucy and found her already looking at you, her own adoration clear on her face, which you were sure echoed in yours. She squeezed your hand three times, causing a blush to bloom on your cheeks. You squeezed back three times and watched as she looked down, slightly shy under your intense gaze.

The problem with alcohol for you was that it caused you to fumble even more. You had gone outside with Ona and Keira to get some air – the sweaty club was getting to all of you.

“So, yeh. I think I want to try to get a long weekend away in soon ish,” Ona finished her conversation. You weren’t really paying attention, your minds drifting between the chicken nuggets you would pester Lucy for on the way home and if you wanted another drink or not – the world spinning slightly as you sucked in the cool night air.

“You alright over there, clumsy?” Keira asked, noticing you staggering somewhat as you drifted away from the pair.

“Um? Oh, yeh. I’m a-ok,” You threw Keira the universal ‘ok’ sign – pausing slightly as you commanded your fingers to do what you desired. Your drunkenness was obvious; you blinked a little too slowly, and you were clearly not in complete control of yourself, but your speech wasn’t slurred yet.

“Sure, you are,” Ona laughed as you tried to wedge yourself between them, throwing too much weight into the action and launching yourself forward. You crashed heavily into the ground, your knee taking most of the force. You yelped a little at the pain before flopping down on the floor behind the bar. You looked down, and a slight graze on your right hand captured most of your attention until Ona gasped.

“What?” You looked around, trying to see the cause of her alarm.

“Su rodilla,” she said as she pointed to your knee. Your drunk brain didn’t know what she was referring to, but you followed her finger and came to stare at your bloodied knee. You gasped.

“My knee,” you whined, only now becoming aware of the throbbing cut.

“I’ll get Lucy; you stay with her.” Keira rushed back inside.

“Oni, I fell,” you pouted. You looked from your knee to her and back again, your frown increasing with every minute. Ona had to admit, drunk you was very adorable.

“Love?” Lucy appeared, looking around frantically for you.

“Sweets?” You perked up, looking somewhat like a meerkat.

“Hey, lovely. How are you doing?” She asked gently, taking a seat next to you.

“I fell,” you said wetly through the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

“Oh, Bubba. It’s ok.” She cooed, drawing you to lay your head on her collarbone. She shushed you gently, used to your drunken antics after the number of years you had dated. It was easier for her to treat every issue with just as much seriousness as you did. “It’s just a small cut. Let’s get you patched up, and we can head home, ok?” You nodded, refusing to leave the sanctuary of Lucy’s chest. “Do you want me to do it, or are you ok with Manuela’s staff doing it?” she asked, leaning back slightly to hear your answer.

“Want Mazza to do it,” Lucy sighed. You often missed your best friend when you were in Barcelona and she was back in Manchester.

“Mary’s not here, Bubba. How about Keira?” Lucy comforted you, nodding to Keira to take the first aid kit from the security guard who had joined you outside. You sniffled slightly, burring yourself further into Lucy as the alcohol wipe stung your cut.

“Can I have nuggets?” You asked, your mind still lingering on the food you craved.

“Sure, love.” Lucy laughed as you sat up straighter at her response.

“I love you,” you said, staring straight into her eyes.

“I love you,” she responded, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

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

You stared at your relatively empty fridge. An onion, a pepper, some leftover chicken, and 3 eggs stared back at you. It's not particularly inspiring, but it would do. You gathered the ingredients, deposited them on the chopping board, and started cutting. You should have started with the pepper to avoid having watery eyes as you chopped everything, but you weren’t thinking and now you were regretting it. The lingering sting of the onion made it harder to see what you were doing. The front door opening also distracted you even more. Lucy’s calls of arrival made you not watch where you placed the knife and try to cut the pepper.

“Fuck,” you swore loudly. The red liquid came streaming out alarmingly quickly. “Ow, ow, ow.” You blinked away the tears.

“Love, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” Lucy ran around the corner, skidding on the hard floors as she rushed into the kitchen. You were aware of how scary it must have looked, you standing wide-eyed at Lucy, blood running down your hand with a knife in the other.

“Oh, Bubba.” Lucy soothed, her gentle fingers taking the knife from your hand and manoeuvring you to stand by the sink, letting cool water wash over the cut. “What happened, lovely?” she asked her.

“I was trying to make us tea,” you said dejectedly. Why couldn’t you do anything right? All you wanted was to do one small thing for Lucy, and here you were, bleeding into her sink. You looked up to the ceiling, trying really hard not to let the tears fall. She gently patted your finger with a clean towel before holding it tightly, trying to stop the bleeding. “So stupid,” you whispered dejectedly.

“Hey, stop that. Accidents happen.” She chastised gently, pushing some hair out of your face.

“Not just this,” you waved your injured hand around. “I constantly trip and fall, and it’s just so stupid. I’m an adult. I’m an athlete. I should be less of a fucking clumsy idiot.” You had heard it your whole life – people teasing you over your clumsiness, calling you affectionate nicknames based on your inability to stay upright. You sniffed, staring hard at the floor.

“Hey, no, stop it.” She said firmly, her free hand forcing your chin up until you had to look at her. “I love that you trip all the time. It’s part of who you are,” she kissed your cheek. “And I like that I can help you,” she admitted softly. “It makes me feel important,” she whispered.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “You are important. And not just to me. And not just because you help me when I trip.” You spoke with such conviction. She leant in to press a passionate kiss on your lips. You hummed quietly at the feeling. “I love you,” you proudly stated when she drew away.

“I love you,” she said declared back.

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

You weren’t really paying attention as Leah moaned about something someone had done to her. It was very trivial, but she took it as a personal attack. You spotted Lucy walking down the path to the field with two water bottles. You saw her spot you and speed up slightly, smiling at the thought of her hurrying to get to you. She was practically speed walking down the gentle slope, her movements slowly becoming less controlled. You saw her foot catch the uneven pavement from a tree root. Before you knew it, you had abandoned your conversation with Leah and rushed to Lucy’s side, getting her just in time to stop her from falling painfully onto the concrete.

“Easy, sweets,” you teased, leaning your body into her to help steady the both of you. “You ok?” you asked her, scanning her features for any discomfort.

“I’m all good, bubba. You caught me.” She smiled broadly at you.

“You always catch me. I thought it was only fair.” You pressed a kiss to the underneath of her jaw.

“I love you,” she said happily.

“I love you,” you replied, equally as joyful.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month

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Here we have a home that demonstrates how stark white walls don't mean that a house can't be colorful. Why, however, they painted all the exterior brick blue, I don't understand. Anyway, the 1991 contemporary home, located in Pauma Valley, California, has 3bd, 3.5ba and is listed for $1.15M.

Enter an open "foyer." The front door is painted purple inside. Love that.

Immediately to the right is a big bright living room with a contemporary fireplace. I think that the colorful chimney is wallpaper, there's a blue square painted on the wall with an orange door to the left that matches the Mona Lisa art.

Also in the living room is a recessed wet bar.

The open concept living/dining room features a custom made conversation pit. I'm disappointed that the furnishings don't seem to be included. But, I guess there's enough color for the buyers to put their own stamp on it.

Look at the tile column that appears to be made of Legos. The stairs and seats in the pit are made of concrete, so all that's needed are some cushions.

Brightly striped wall in the dining room has a neon sign that says, "Steak Me Home Tonight." I wonder if it conveys.

The spacious powder room has pink toilet paper roll wallpaper.

The kitchen has white cabinetry and features a blue island, but accessories provide pops of color.

In the family room, a floor-to-ceiling fireplace looks funky with raised geometric shapes painted gray. I suppose that you can repaint it, if you want. Light blue shelving and cabinets provide the color in the room.

Purple carpeting in the primary bedroom. I see what they were trying to do with the bed, but it's just not bright enough.

I prefer this bedroom with the mural and geometric shapes.

Check out the bright yellow wall of cabinets in the home office. That desk would be easy to duplicate.

Colorful wallpaper and doors.

The basement is a blank canvas.

This home is located in a country club.

Nice entrance to the driveway, but I think it would look classier if they hadn't painted the bricks.

Path to the front door looks nice.

The kidney-shaped pool kinda looks heart-shaped, too. A privacy wall surrounds the property.

They didn't show it, but there's a sun room or conservatory in the back.

Unusual elevated yard area has a ladder to get to it.

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/15759-Pauma-Valley-Dr_Pauma-Valley_CA_92061_M28257-29025

#contemporary homes #colorful homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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whetstonefires · 2 months

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Honestly the most interesting thing about the Jiang interpersonal dynamics that is being totally slept on is how Jiang Fengmian's power as head of the family affects everyone, including him.

Yu Ziyuan knows Jiang Fengmian won't use his power against her unless he feels like he needs to, and that he doesn't fear her and isn't going to feel like he needs to act in self-defense unless she attempts significant physical harm, so short of that she can do whatever she likes against him, and he won't resist.

But if the collateral damage to the kids of her verbal attacks on him goes above a certain level, he says one word and she stops.

He just goes, 'wife.' ('My lady' but it's just a polite term for wife.) Sort of disapproving. Same kind of way he talks to Jiang Cheng when he acts like a shithead, but without the subsequent attempt at an ethics lesson.

And bam. Momentum halted. That line of attack is out of bounds. Nobody likes this, but good god it works.

And because they both know he ultimately has all the power, that Yu Ziyuan's lifestyle of privacy and doing exactly as she pleases at all times and so forth is all something that exists by Jiang Fengmian's generosity and sufferance, and she hates it, and he's not comfortable with it either, he sets that boundary really high, and she gets away with all kinds of cruelty because it's all stuff she's strictly allowed to do, entitled to do. So he'd be abusing his authority over her, by constraining her right to exercise her power within normative bounds over the people she outranks.

Even if she's using it harmfully and in a way directed by spite, these are her rights, she's not technically abusing her power, and her primary target in all the episodes he actually witnesses is him who outranks her; she's not being one of those mistresses.

So he'd be overstepping if he tried to constrain her, he'd be one of those husbands. Just like she always accuses him of.

(This is why she keeps insisting that she's also the master of jiang sect and he's 'forgetting' that in contexts where it doesn't make a huge amount of sense.)

Anyway, the fact that it's impossible to unpick where Jiang Fengmian's moral principles stop and his conflict-avoidance kicks in with this relationship is so much more interesting than the weirdly sexist readings I keep seeing, where it's all the conflict-avoidance and he's an unmanly loser who lets Yu Ziyuan bully him and his kids without ever standing up to her, for no good reason. When actually they have a really interesting and fantastically realistic toxic relationship.

He has a good reason! His reason is he's uncomfortable with the patriarchy! And guilty that his wife is miserable! And that he doesn't love her correctly! So he gives way as often as he can, trying to fix it!

But it doesn't fix it, because no amount of giving in to her gives her cause to trust him, and if she doesn't trust him and she knows that if he actually cares about an issue her ability to get her way will disappear, she can't feel secure about any of it. And therefore everything, especially Wei Wuxian the symbol of that fact, makes her angry and Want To Punish.

#hoc est meum #mdzs #yu ziyuan #jiang fengmian #jiang family #i am OBSESSED with them #meta #marriage #gender #character meta

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f1byjessie · 2 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part eight.

The thing is, you pride yourself on being stubborn.

Your parents hated it━ loathed that you wouldn’t give in when they demanded you find some other career path, something stable like finance or business. They hated that you moved out instead of submitting to their whims, and you imagine they hated even more that you declined every call and never answered any of the messages they sent for months afterwards until they gave up.

You’ll be the first to admit that it’s not a particularly marketable trait, nor is it very favorable in the eyes of others. It pisses people off more than anything, especially when they badger and push and prod and all you do is stand your ground. An old boss early into your career once nearly burst a blood vessel when you resolutely refused to take pictures at a private event━ threw a fit when you stuck by your morals to uphold the privacy of the athletes involved. But it’s a feature of who you are and it’s managed to save your ass more times than you can count.

Nonetheless, you also know that there’s a time when you have to swallow your pride and give in. Garrett and his threats to your career had been one of those times. A teacher in primary school and an argument about an uncompleted assignment had been another.

The situation with Lando, however, is not.

And just because Oscar is weirdly perceptive and creepily wise for his young age doesn’t mean you’re about to change things.

Why should you be the one to talk to Lando? Why should you reach out first to clear up the misunderstanding? He’s the one who misunderstood in the first place, and he’s the one that blew up without ever even thinking to give you a chance to explain what was actually happening.

If Lando wants you to talk to him again, then he’ll have to suck it up and apologize to you first. It’s the least he could do after implying the whole world thinks you’re a slut. It’s his fault you two aren’t talking in the first place, and the fact that he has the audacity to think you’ll just lay down and take it? That you’ll hear everything he had to say and just be fine with it?

Just thinking about it has you gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles the entire ride back to your flat.

This isn’t the first time the two of you have fought. It’s not even the first time Lando has been the one in the wrong. Beyond the disagreements the initial tension had caused in 2019, your worst spat was in 2021, following his crash at Spa during the qualifications for the Belgian Grand Prix.

The crash itself wasn’t the problem. You’d never get upset at someone for something out of their control, and Lando had hydroplaned because of track conditions and nothing else. But he’d been so nonchalant about it all, brushing off the medical staff with an “I’m fine,” and a “nothing’s wrong.” That, in and of itself, is not uncommon among Formule One drivers or even athletes in general. A lot of them disregard their own bodily limits and the damage they take if it means getting to do what they love, and Lando isn’t any different.

He’d had bruises all along his chest from his seatbelt and had needed to get a precautionary X-ray taken, but there hadn’t really been anything wrong. Even still, you’d fluttered about asking if he was okay, asking if medical had anything to say, asking if he thought he’d be well enough to race on Sunday. You’d understood that he’d probably been asked those same questions a few dozen times already in that hour alone, but he’d scoffed at your worry and told you to leave him alone.

So you did, after scoffing right back at him and snapping that you were just concerned and he didn’t need to be a bellend about it.

You’d ignored him for the rest of the weekend and stuck close to Daniel. Lando had had to corner you on the plane to finally apologize, and you’d jumped right back into the swing of things afterwards, laughing and joking around like none of it had ever happened.

That short fight seems like a cake walk in comparison to what’s happening now.

Deep down, there’s a desperate need for it all to go back to how it was before the winter off-season━ back when you and Lando would get drunk in each other’s hotel rooms on cheap wine while watching shitty reality TV, when you and Lando would make up stupid games in the airport waiting for your flights, when you and Lando would gossip like a couple of school girls about all the messy drama on the grid and around the factory.

But without Oscar’s infuriatingly mature outlook on everything, and his stupidly healthy way of perceiving relationships and the people involved in them, that same desperate need to have Lando in your life is buried down beneath your rekindled anger and a very justified pettiness.

Your flat is cold, dark, and empty when you push the door open. The sound of your keys clattering against the counter when you toss them echoes, as does the thud of your bag as you let it fall to the floor by your shoes.

You need to eat, shower, and sleep━ preferably in that order━ but when you open the fridge you divert your path from the tupperware of leftovers and reach for the pack of beers you never got around to finishing awhile ago.

Lando brought it around and you’ve never been much of a beer drinker, but he’d insisted you try it, so you had. The bitterness had clung to the inside of your mouth and you only made it halfway through your first bottle before handing it off for him to finish it for you. The rest of the pack had been allocated to your fridge for when he came over next, but that had never happened.

The fact that it’s beer is annoying enough, and the fact that it’s Lando’s beer pisses you off even more, but this is one of those moments where you have to push your stubbornness aside because you don’t have anything else and all you really want to do is get drunk and watch sad movies on your couch to forget about how upsetting your own life is at present.

You can’t cry over Lando if you’re already too busy crying over a fictional character.

It’s not particularly healthy, and you can imagine Oscar with his creepy omnipotence giving you a look for it, but you don’t really have the energy within you to bring yourself to care and Oscar isn’t actually there to judge you for it anyway.

The first half of February carries on similarly. You don’t get drunk every night, but you don’t talk to Lando either and Oscar’s heaving sighs and blatant exasperation whenever he third-wheels the frigidity between you and his teammate is explanation enough to what his opinion is on your choices.

But you’re standing firm.

It doesn’t matter that your phone sits heavy in the pocket of your trousers, searing into you like a hot coal with the knowledge of how easy it would be to just make a few swipes, press a few buttons, and end this whole thing━ to give in first.

The reality is that Lando did something shitty and you aren’t going to give him the impression that he has the ability to do similar shitty things in the future and get away with them.

So you cling to your hurt and your stubbornness, and you use every mildly annoying and slightly frustrating thing to keep the flame fueled within you.

Garrett helps, too.

You’re in Woking now, which is just over three and a half hours away from Manchester. Between the distance, your new schedule packed full with preparations for testing in Bahrain and the start of the season, and Garrett’s busier schedule with the resumption of the Champions League, neither of you have been able to find the time to be able to meet up for another staged date.

And it’s making Garrett fidgety. He wants results and he wants them now. Footballers always seem to have an inability to be patient, probably comes with the fact that they’re always on the move in one way or another, and this━ his reputation━ is no exception.

He sent you a bouquet of flowers for Valentine’s Day, which you posted on your story with a sickening amount of heart emojis, and you’d both made disgustingly sappy Instagram posts about the day and how hard it was to be apart for the sake of maintaining the illusion of being smitten with one another in your fledgling romance.

Since then, he’s been hounding you about when you’re free and reminding you rather unkindly about just what he’ll do if you even think about using your schedule to get out of the agreement the two of you have.

He doesn’t seem to understand that you’re contractually obligated to travel the country for the next ten months, and even if you wanted to spend time with him and pretend to be his perfect little girlfriend, you can’t.

It makes your mood even worse, and when you accidentally snap at a poor intern who’s only crime was asking you the same question twice, you decide you have to do something.

“Y/N!” Jack’s voice crackles over the phone, and the way he says your name alone━ the excitement and seemingly genuine joy laced in his accent━ makes you smile. “I thought you’d forgotten about me already.”

Much like Garrett, it’s been hard to stay in touch with Jack as well. Not as hard, because at least you like Jack and it makes it that much more motivating to put in the effort to reach out even when you’re exhausted from a day’s work and faced with hundreds of images you still need to sort through and edit, but still hard.

You message occasionally about the big things. He knows you leave for Bahrain in a few days to begin set up for pre-season testing, and you know that he got “White Girl Wasted” in Copenhagen after the team’s win. He also knows, from the few times you’ve called him tipsy and crying, anything and everything about the fiasco with Lando and just how deep it goes.

“As if I could possibly forget you, what with your amazing DJ skills,” you tease back, a bit self-consious of how your voice carries in the otherwise silent bathroom.

Jack laughs, deep and hearty. “Right. I’m a proper expert now, the lessons are paying off.”

“So what I’m hearing is now I’ll have to book you in advance to make sure you can play at my birthday party?” You dig the toe of your shoe against the tiled floor.

He hums, pretending to think on it. You can almost imagine how his face looks, eyebrows scrunched up and lips pursed to stop himself from smiling, like he’s having some intensely philosophical internal debate with himself. “You know,” he says after a moment of contemplation, “as a VIP customer, I think I can squeeze you in.” You can hear the grin in his voice. “But really, me and the lads all miss having you ‘round. I imagine a lot of them don’t like coming in anymore when they ain’t got a pretty face to look forward to.”

“Grealo, you flatterer,” you laugh. “I thought we agreed it was your job now to be the pretty face? You’ve got the cheekbones for it. And the hair.”

He heaves a dramatic sigh. “The lads just don’t appreciate me like you do.”

“Figures,” you murmur in mock commiseration.

Jack chuckles again and then clears his throat. “But real talk, though. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on your lip, worrying it between your teeth for a few seconds of baited silence before it’s your turn to heave a very real and very stress-induced sigh. “I don’t know,” you start, “I’m just stressed outta my mind and I can’t really talk about it with the people here, which makes it worse. I snapped at an intern and then lied to her about why I was stressed which made me feel doubly as bad.”

“Not fun,” Jack replies.

“Not fun at all.”

“What’s got you so stressed?”

“Everything,” you groan. “Garrett won’t leave me alone about trying to schedule another outting, but I can’t just leave and spend the day in Manchester with him on a whim. The factory is really hectic with everyone getting ready to go, and I’m included in that. But he seems to think I’m doing it on purpose, just to spite him, and if I wasn’t genuinely swamped with work then maybe but that’s not the case this time and he just won’t listen.”

You run your hand down your face, pinching at the bridge of your nose to try and alleviate the ache behind your eyes.

“He’s threatening me again, and I’m trying to explain to him what’s going on, but he’s a prick as you know so of course he isn’t listening. And on top of that,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “Lando’s still ignoring me. And because Lando won’t talk to me, Oscar thinks I should talk to him, except I still don’t think it’s too much to ask for a simple apology.”

Jack hums. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you grumble. “Tell me about it.”

“I think, that you shouldn’t have to talk with Lando until he apologizes. Outside of work, at least,” he starts. “What he did, what he said, hurt you a lot and you’re entitled to that hurt. And if this Oscar guy keeps pushing you to talk when you obviously aren’t ready and don’t want to, then he doesn’t sound as wise as you said he was.”

You make a noise. “No, he’s like freakishly wise, Jack. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m doing the right thing by sticking to this. I’m like, if he, of all people, is telling me I should talk with Lando, then maybe I should. Except I’m not. Because I’m pissed off.”

“And you’re entitled to being pissed off,” he says.

“It’s just messy,” you whine. “And I hate messy when it’s my life and not pretty people on TV or random logistical folks from the offices that I don’t know the names of because they never actually go to races.”

Jack hums again, “I feel you there. You just gotta take it one at a time, yeah? One foot in front of the other, and all that.”

“You got that from Rudolph,” you snort.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “and he’s a reindeer with a glowing nose and that’s pretty fucking cool so sue me if I pick the lad as one of my inspirations.”

You really do miss Jack. If Oscar plays the role of your little brother, then Jack takes the spot of the older one. His laughter is warm and friendly, familiar in the way that feels like coming home after a long day of work. From the day you walked in and found him waiting for you in your office, he’s always looked out for you.

Back at Etihad Campus, whenever the guys were telling stories, he’d always be sure to elaborate and explain who everyone and what everything is so you could feel included in it all. He was the first to take the plunge and invite you out the group dinners and hangouts, including you with the boys even when he didn’t really need to. You were a temporary addition to their team, and not even all that important, but he’d taken you under his wing and seemingly made it his mission to make you feel wanted.

He always just seems to know what to do.

“What do I do, Jack?”

“Well,” he drawls out, “with Garrett, I think you just gotta lay it out for him. Show him a screenshot of your crazy full calendar if you have to. He’ll listen eventually, you just gotta smack it into him sometimes. As for Lando…”

Jack sighs, “I think you’ve got two options here. You either keep waiting it out and hope he realizes how much of a total fucking muppet he’s being and apologizes, or you take the first step and start the convo.”

“What happened to making him jealous using Garrett?”

He makes a noise. “I don’t think you ever really wanted to make him jealous.”

“You’re right,” you mumble. You pull at a loose thread on your shirt. “Is it stupid that I think I’m still in love with him even after all this?”

“No,” Jack says. “I think if you weren’t still in love with him then you probably weren’t in love to begin with. It makes us do crazy things, things that hurt us sometimes.”

You both fall into silence.

“I wish I could go back in time and never even answer Garrett’s call,” you huff, hoping it hides how your voice cracks with emotion.

“I know you’ve already said it’d be too risky, but if you wanted to break things off with him, me and some of the other lads are all still willing to stand up for you if he tries to start any rumors,” Jack answers.

You shake your head, not caring that he can’t even see it. “It’s been too long now. If he comes out with some misconduct rumor he could just as easily make something up about the times me and him spent alone on our dates. Not to mention, with the way my comments and inbox was flooded with death threats just because I started dating him, I don’t want to imagine how bad it’d be if he purposefully weaponized his fans against me.”

You take a deep breath, “Even if my career somehow managed to survive, I don’t think I would.”

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: i have not gotten around to editing this, so i do sincerely apologize if there are any mistakes. it's nearly 5AM and i pulled a crazy amount of consecutive all-nighters while keeping up with the pre-season testing, so my brain isn't functioning as well as it probably should be, and that's also why it took me a little longer than normal to get this out. i'm running on four hours of sleep from last night and my hopes and dreams! so, alas, if there are any grammatical errors, that's why. anyways, i hope you enjoy! i'm very excited to begin working on the next part~

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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