#incredible prompt ty ^_^

[repressionmd]

prompt idea: Mel is trying to figure out Santos's whole... whatever-the-deal-is with Garcia. Santos's answers are too sarcastic to be helpful. Langdon is amused by the lesbian drama (he's seen Garcia break hearts before), but too scared of what Garcia would do to him if he's talking behind her back to explain.

help i know i said i'd use requests as warmups but i got uhm. excited. 😭 i didn't follow your prompt exactly but i hope you like it still !! about 800 words of santos/garcia and mel/langdon sillies :)

---

Dr Santos was at work early. Mel paused, staring at her as she stood by the lockers and tapped away at her phone, smiling slightly and clearly oblivious to the rest of the world. Mel walked forward, wondering what world-shattering event had occurred for Santos to be at work early.

She looked up then, tucking away her phone and eyes widening with surprise as she saw Mel.

"Hey!" They said at the same time, though Santos's was measurably less excited. That seemed more normal. It was still 6.30 in the morning.

As Mel moved to her locker and Santos moved to let her pass, she asked - "what brings you in early?" - and kept her eyes on the intern.

Santos didn't like giving much away verbally, but Mel had learnt that her eyes and expressions were very… well. Expressive. And very telling. Right now, she had on her None of your business, leave me alone face, and Mel's newly honed expression-reading skills went to waste when she said, "Oh, nothing special. Thought I'd enjoy some valuable extra time in the hospital I love so much."

"Oh, did you want to get started on rounds? I usually wait for a few more-"

Santos laughed, not unkindly, and looked past Mel as she did. "No, no - I'm actually going to take a little wander. Alone. See you in a bit!"

Just then, Dr Garcia rounded the corner, which Mel knew from the way Santos's eyes lit up and how her mouth curled up in a warm smile that she hardly gave to anyone. Really, Mel had only noticed it when Dr Garcia or Dr Ellis were around.

Something about the situation and Santos's emphasis on being 'alone' made Mel think she should probably leave, but she didn't need to. So she busied herself with sorting out something in her locker, noticing out of the corner of her eye the way Santos started fidgeting beside her as Garcia leaned against the locker on the other side of her. Well, that was interesting.

"Hey, Dr King, you doing okay? Is it a nice day out there? It feels like I haven't seen the sun in ages."

"Yeah, it's pretty nice! A little breeze but its lovely because the sun's out."

"Hey, Mel - I actually wanted to talk to Dr Garcia privately, if you didn't mind." Mel would've felt slighted if not for the glare that Garcia shot Santos.

"Dr Santos, you could have a little patience while I talk to a colleague." Mel fought back a giggle as Santos visibly deflated with that, and mentally conceded that whatever was going on wasn't worth mental warfare with Santos later.

She made a show of checking her watch and saying "Oh, is that the time? I should be heading in now anyway. See you, Dr Garcia!"

Mel walked away, and could've sworn she heard a crash coming from the direction of the lockers but was swept away to deal with a bout of sudden vomiting and promptly forgot about… whatever that was.

Till of course, she ran into Santos in the break room a few hours later.

"Hey, Dr Santos?"

"Don't even mention it."

"What?"

"Either you're going to quiz me about a patient, which is boring and I don't want to hear it, or you're going to ask about Garcia, which is none of your business. Because there is no business. I just had to talk to her, is all."

"So she had nothing to do with you coming in early?" Mel's voice was very purposefully toneless, though she was hiding a smile.

"Nope."

"Nothing at all?"

"Look, Mel. I think you're great."

"Aw!"

"Let me finish. You cannot ask me about that again or I will leak to the nurses that you and Langdon had sex in the supply closet"

"That - never happened!" It had, but Santos wasn't on shift then, how would she know?

"Well, the nurses will believe me. Wait, did you actually have sex in the supply-"

"Nope!" Mel got up very quickly, making another show of checking her watch and pretending to panic. "Okay. Nothing is happening with you and Garcia. And nothing has happened between Langdon and I. Good talk. Bye!"

She didn't miss Santos's laugh as she left, but knew that now this was a definite Cold War. And that she needed to have a serious conversation with Frank and going to HR.

(When she told him about the cold war, he groaned and agreed that they would have to do something first. "Garcia will never forgive me if I'm part of exposing another one of her relationships." To Mel's puzzled face, he added, "She's got a reputation, Mel. I don't want to get into it, it'll give me a headache. Did Santos really guess that part about the supply closet?")

[medusas-graveyard]

Comfort In A Knight

There was an uproar in the infinite realms after they found out about the GIW's imprisonment of the crowned prince, and as an attempt to damage control, he decides to hold a temporary martial law over the dimension. Some are upset, of course; but all of them ultimately acknowledges the young ruler's attempts on not starting an interdimensional war.

A few months go by, and while the inhabitants of the infinite realms all calmed down from the initial uproar, ironically, the crowned prince is the one getting agitated by the meddling of humans. All the pressure of his monarch lessons so he could take the king mantel, civil conflict between different parts of the realm, and some extremist rebellions are slowly making him more tired, anxious, and easily agitated. The once lawful neutral prince has turned into someone who would get rid of anyone he deemed as a bug, squashed by the heel of his boots.

Tl:Dr; He's tired of everyone's bullshit.

.

So really, it's not a surprise to see his eldritch self bounded inside a summoning circle, surrounded by Justice League members because of course he is.

"What do you want."

He's really contemplating on going 'fuck it' and destroy earth right now.

...that is, before a familiar gruffy voice called out to him.

"That's enough, Charon."

He whipped his head (if you can call it that) to the direction of the voice, finding batman's figure walking closer to him, ignoring the yelling from other Justice League members.

Eventually, he drops his act and turn into the teenager the Batman is all too familiar with. The boy drops his hand below the golden ribcage nestled on his chest, the familiar white hair peeking out of his hood slightly move around non-existent air, as his Lazarus green eyes stared at the dark knight, causing his Calavera–painted face to scrunch.

The man didn't stop for a second as he trudged closer, only stopping when he's directly Infront of the ghost, all within arms reach.

"I'm right here."

For the first time in several months, the prince finds himself breaking down into a sob. He easily destroyed the (poor attempt of a) binds caging him, throwing himself to the Knight's body.

The rest of the League stared at them dumbfoundedly, before Batman eventually sighed.

"Justice league; Phantom. Crowned prince of the infinite realms."

"...And my ward."

Notes:

Reference on Danny's clothing

Yep. Another adoptee au

[blorbologist]

“i love you” + vex

“I love you.”

“Rhhhah.”

“No - I love you.”

“Rrroak.”

“I. Love. You.”

“Roak-ak-ak-ak.”

Vex’ahlia sighs in exasperation and expunges what air’s left in her lungs by slumping against Trinket. The raven flutters back a few paces at the movement, watching her with its head cocked. She can’t stand looking at it anymore, so instead tips her head skyward. Everything’s greys up there: silver if she’s feeling fanciful, smokey if she’s not. Which she isn’t, anymore. 

It’s not that fucking hard to say. 

She’s heard cats and dogs grumble it, as close as they could get. Trinket has, too - a low grumbling Ruy ruh r’ou’ that the twins have been absolutely determined to get him to repeat. And the colorful birds of Marquet which can say all that and more. That one week they spent at Dalen’s Closet, Keyleth had shrieked in surprise when one chirped canItouchyourbutt - oh, and Vax had made it his goal to teach it how to say fuck, and - 

Well. Now she’s here. 

All those birds are probably dead. Or maybe they aren’t - she doesn’t know how long they live. But she’s surrounded by the same ravens that flocked to Whitestone after Vax - after, and she’s really, really tired of them only repeating the stupidest shit.

Percy didn’t teach Leona to say fuck. Neither did Cassandra, or Kynan, or any of the childrens’ favorite guards, and Vesper would never. Grog and Scanlan know better, now that Pike’s on their asses for Juniper proudly declaring things shit. 

She’s very sure it’s the ravens. They do say fuck, and hello, oy you, and pretty birdie, and - well. Shitballs is probably her fault. Indirectly. So is motherfucker. 

(Look: they always pester her when she and Trinket hunt something down, even after they’ve been given the offal, and she really, really is bereft of opportunities to swear with all the kids running around the mansion, alright? It’s cathartic.)

Yes, very cathartic. But now the ravens taught her toddler to say fuck, and she really should do something about it. 

Vex’ahlia rolls her gaze back to ground level. The solitary raven is watching her still, throat feathers fluffing with its breaths. 

She’s pretty familiar with most of them now; this one has a bad habit of trying to steal her knives when she’s cleaning a kill. He’s very glossy, with a notch in his tail fan. It. It feels like a he. 

Trinket’s breath is a reassuring backdrop, his fur too-warm behind her in his humidity. She feels out a little scrap of meat, getting both the bear and bird’s attention. 

“Let’s try it again, darling. Come on,” she prompts. “I love you.”

The raven opens his mouth, feathers ruffled as though he’s about to squall - but he shuts it with a clack, considering her. 

Again: “I love you.”

“Rah-ah-ah-ah-ah.” Like it’s laughing.

… This will take a while.

(If pressed, Vex would say she wasn’t sure why she started with I love you. Maybe because she loves Whitestone, and wants to tell it that without being weird. Because it’s something sweet that could make people smile. Or because Percy will certainly jump if he hears her voice somewhere he doesn’t expect it.)

(Maybe because her voice, echoed within a hard beak, might just sound deeper, and more like Vax’s. And it would do her well to hear him say it again, and hope that he hears her too.)

[queenlua]

Prompt: Sanaki and Naesala and... hmm, "aesthetics"

When Sanaki enters the parlor where Naesala's lurking, garbed from head to toe in her new royal regalia, she's not sure how exactly Naesala will react.

But she was expecting something a little less... monosyllabic.

"It looks fine," he says, with an indifferent shrug, glancing up for only a moment from the armchair onto which he's slumped.  Then turns right back to the book he's reading.

Fine.  Just fine, says Naesala, who's constantly mouthing off about the aesthetics of everything in Sienne.  Naesala, who thinks Mainal's narthex is too drab but its side chapel, too precious.  Naesala, who rolls his eyes at the famed columns and great vaulted dome of the ancient temple on Westover Hill ("dated even in its own time," apparently), but sneers at Mainal's redesigned eastern wing as so much modernist pretention ("did your architect run out of gold before he managed to buy a single shred of color?").  Naesala, who paused, the first time he ever entered Sanaki's chambers, just to call the crown molding tacky.

But Sanaki's currently wearing an entirely new wardrobe for conducting royal business, and all he has to say is looks fine.  Really.

For over a year, Sanaki's royal draper, Ariadne, has slaved over the design of this new regalia.  A special assignment, quite possibly the work of Ariadne's lifetime.  Since Sanaki was no longer apostle and empress, but instead serving as empress alone—she needed attire to match.  Something to project her authority, and her unbroken connection to Begnion's past, all the way back to its founding, while also discarding all traces of religiosity, any symbols of the goddess.  "Can you do it?" she'd asked Ariadne, and the woman's eyes had glittered, then.  She'd pushed up her glasses, pulled a pen from her hair, started sketching at once.

Ariadne was good.  The best.  All the ladies at court, and the aesthetes in their forums and parlors, said so.  And Ariadne herself had not even bothered affecting false modesty: "My greatest work yet," she'd said, the day of the unveiling.

All of that, and yet, looks fine is all Naesala says.

That can't be the whole of his opinion.  So Sanaki waits.

And sure enough, after a few minutes, Naesala glances up from his book to ask, "Who's your draper, again?"

"What is it," Sanaki snaps.

"Nothing, nothing."  Naesala laughs.  "Just might have a word with her, is all."

Sanaki waits again.  And after a moment Naesala sighs, rises from him chair, and crosses the room to give Sanaki a looking-over.  He paces around her slowly, pausing at every step to look closer, sometimes reaching out to touch a bit of fabric, rubbing it between his hands, feeling for the thread count.  When he's behind her, he grazes a few fingers down the back of her neck, and then a little ways down her spine, to just above where the back of the dress dips down toward her waist, and hmms warmly.  That detail, at least, he finds fetching enough.

"It's not a bad effort," he says, once he's in front of her again.  He tugs at the adornment on the edge of her sleeves.  "Very... lacey."  Then he sighs, as though finally goaded into honesty: "It's just that it looks a touch grandmotherish, don't you think.  I mean, Nealuchi'd find it charming, I'm sure, but he's not the one you're trying to impress—"

"It's historic," Sanaki sniffs, with renewed confidence.  He's only revealing his own ignorance.  He's not appreciating all the subtleties that Ariadne explained to her: "These buttons," she says, gesturing toward her sleeve, "are from the very same outfit that that Apostle Yilanti wore at her coronation.  They symbolize—"

"Right, see, I remember when your great-grandmother Yilatni was on the throne," Naesala interrupts.  "Back when filigreed plaster was 'in.'  And back when I hadn't yet learned how to out-cheat my cousins at cards.  Tulips were all the rage, everywhere south of Daein.  And you beorc had just come up with that dreadful little instrument that was going to make my ears bleed in every tavern between here and Melior for the next forty years, the one with the little hand-bellows, what's-its-name—"

"The accordion?"

"Yes.  That."  He shudders.  "Would've served better tending to fires.  Or chucked into those fires.  Anyway."  Naesala steps close again, gesturing at one of her sleeves.  "Those brass buttons have the same little insignia on them as the accordions back then did, all from the same awful maker.  Rather tarnishes the effect for me, personally."  He tilts his head.  "That and.. most of the other little flourishes, really."  He frowns.  "The lace especially.  Are you sure about that bit?  Seems rather unlike you."

Dully, Sanaki notes that this is the most tactful she's ever heard him when it comes to aesthetics.  She'd be touched if she weren't so annoyed at it all.

"Fortunately," Naesala drawls, stepping away, "I imagine the median age of your citizenry runs a fair bit younger than all that.  So probably it's fine."  He flashes a patronizing smile: "Since you asked."

And with that, he turns to leave.

For a moment Sanaki just watches him go.  Watches him close the door behind him.

And then she motions for one of her servants to come closer.

"Fetch me Ariadne," she whispers.  "Quickly.  Before that crow gets to her."  A few adjustments wouldn't hurt.  Sanaki had had a few in mind, after all, even before asking Naesala.  She's not changing it because of him, she just—happens to have agreed with one of his points.  A few of his points.

But she'd be putting in the request herself, thank you very much.  No need for any more meddling on his part.

[lre333]

☆°Hey! I wanted to say thank you for tagging me in the one photo, a line of text story challenge. It really pushed me back into storytelling and just being able to create both the pose and having the scene come together. It just rejuvenated that excitement I use to have with creating for my ocs and just making something outta nothing!

mannn, that was an entirely selfish tag/request loool you often post images that are an entire story in themselves, even without words, and i had not a single doubt that your name was going on the tag list when i read the prompt ~ i love your storytelling style! and i’m delighted to hear that it was as inspiring and fun for you to make as it was for me to read/experience <33 i hope you do the prompt again! i’m thinking up my next one as we speak~😌💖✨

[fairene]

passenger princess / ln4

established relationship lando norris x fem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

in which the weekend takes a twist, and all you want is a baby.

prompt⋯ hi! first of all, i absolutely ADORE your writing. i’ve been reading all of your stuff for the past few days!! second, i was scrolling on pinterest and i rediscovered the lando daddy bracelet pic. that combined with THE dutch gp pic made me be down even worse for him. with that i request a fic with an established reader x lando relationship. that’s set during the weekend of the 2024 dutch gp. where he wears the bracelet over the course of the weekend and it gets you(? or me? idk how to phrase that) really worked up, and after he wins they fuck while he’s still wearing it. and it’s like the most rough feral sex known to mankind. but at the end you want him to come in you and he’s like “oh you wanna make me a daddy”. like yes it is a slight breeding kink but it’s more of the idea of the bracelet and how he definitely knew what he was doing when he wore it (in the fic and irl too tbh). that’s the general idea but feel free to put your own spin on it!! i am incredibly down bad for him and that photo did something to me. ty 🤗🧡

a/n ⋯ yeah tbh i got no excuse for this one chat...like...how could i not resist a breeding kink...i know y'all want it too. but for real--- thank you anon for being patient. i had a lot of fun writing this in between doing work. writing is an escape for me. thank you to all for the continued support, and i'll be continuing to get through asks as time moves along. comment below to be added to my taglist, or comment in general! i love replying to all of them as much as i can.

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, breeding kink, impregnation, teasing, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, begging, mating press-- allat shit tbh. if i miss a warning, let me know.

wc ⋯ 8.5k (unedited.)

things had begun to be different between you and lando. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the gears shifted, the stars aligned, though you only cared how good it made you feel with him. 

but he knew. he knew exactly when.

you’d been dating lando for two years now. it was two years of pure bliss— the exciting lifestyle that you’ve craved, the love and care, the passion that you shared with him was exquisitely yours. he is yours. and you are his.

that morning in the paddock he was speaking to max, chattering about the post collision from hungaroring. they seemed to make up in due time, finding it easier to call one another “brother’s” again, despite the damages done to their cars and the media in an uproar about their impish, punitive behaviors. you didn’t spare any glance towards the comments made about it, knowing that lando had been in a rough shape that weekend. 

you played with penelope, p, as they were talking, squatted on the ground with colored pens in your hand. kelly loomed behind, on her phone, thankful enough that you could occupy her for the time being. you had no issue entertaining her. you loved being around children…most of the time. 

“this one?” you held out the red pen for p, as she was pointing to with a bashful look. she was shy– especially around you, given your ethereal, wanderlust nature. you carried yourself in such an elegant way that could facilitate a ray of sunlight through the most tepid storms. 

she nodded and you handed it to her. she latched her smaller hand around it, coloring in the rb20 from her sketchbook. your hand fell beneath your chin as you watched her carefully color inside the lines, dreading falling out of it. you smiled as she did, the dress you wore crinkling fashionably around your thighs. 

p flashed the page at you nervously, awaiting her input. your eyes glowed, sparkles falling onto the page as you scanned it. she really did do a good job.

“beautiful, p!” you commented, your palm splaying over her upper back. “you’re really good at this, you know?”

a shade of red filled her cheeks, warming her skin. you hadn’t meant to embarrass her, nor make her nervous. 

“do you want to color one with me?” you asked her, pointing to the pages in the book. she hesitated for a moment, as if she didn’t hear you properly, but ended up nodding with the same excitement that she did when she’d see max on the podium. “you pick. something…pretty.”

the gears were turning in her head as she flipped through the pages, trying to find the perfect one for you and her to work on. you, on the other hand, were focused on how her brows scrunched together as she furiously searched through her booklet. it was cute the way she perceived things. she was a cutie. it made you think about your own future, what you wanted. 

what you wanted,

your eyes drifted from the carpeted floors inside the hospitality room, to the shoes that he wore, and up his black jeans to the papaya livery he sported for the day. you lingered on the expanse of his chest, the tan skin peaking through the v-neck of his unbuttoned collar. your mouth watered instinctively, thinking about how lucky you were to have a man like lando love you so deeply.

as you glanced further up towards his chin, the unshaved rigid surface that sparked electricity over your body, you found him already looking down at you. he wasn’t even paying attention to max at this point, already giving you all of his attention and you didn’t even need to ask. 

you gave him a smile, covering your lips afterward to stifle your giggle, and turned back to p once she tapped you that she’d found a picture for the two of you to color.

“mate?”

lando was lost in a daze staring at you. gawking at your figure, the dress you decided to wear. it was a denim colored sheath that you’d twin with alexandra with. she’d wear the gia dress in a pomegranate hue, whereas you took the navy. 

lando’s hand was cupped against his chin, rubbing over his stubble, keen on watching how you interacted with p. 

your relationship had progressed further than he’s ever gotten to before in his life. he was at a point where he knew he didn’t want anyone else, to explore someone else’s body the way he did yours. he knew you, inside and out, and he didn’t think another connection was even fathomable. 

you appeared to be so gentle with her, taking the time to listen to what she wanted you to do, how to color, maneuver the pens. there would be no outside the line coloring on her watch, that was for sure. 

he found himself smiling bright. 

do you want kids? 

he knew that he did. he always knew that. but he’d never broach the subject to you directly. your relationship with him was secure, but was it eligible to be taken to the next level? would you be frightened by his sudden urge to create a life with you? a product of him, and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“yeah? sorry.” lando looked back towards max. but it was too late, and max was looking over his shoulder towards you and p.

when he looked back towards lando, he threw his hands up in defense. max rolled his eyes. “don’t know why you haven’t proposed to her yet. what’re you waiting for?” 

lando bristled. he waited a moment to answer, wondering the same fucking thing. what was he waiting on? the perfect time, perhaps. summer break was rapidly approaching, and he certainly had a ring picked out. 

the papaya clad driver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, settled on the right one, and handed it to max. the other driver took it, zooming in, not that he needed to. 

“when?”

lando shrugged. “summer break. greece, maybe.” 

max cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. “you’re serious, mate?” lando nodded. max pulled him in for a hug, slapping him over the back. he couldn’t be happier for his best friend in this moment, starting to jump up and down. lando settled him down and slid his phone back into his pocket. 

“keep it quiet. i want her to be surprised.” 

max made a motion of a lock and key. “surprised about what?” 

lando felt giddy.

you hadn’t been paying much attention to what lando nor max were chittering about. you’d been so hyper focused on coloring with p, that you were absent minded of the conversation behind you. 

p had picked out a cartoon illustration of max and lando smiling towards the viewer. you’d thought it was an adorable choice, and it showed that p was more aware than what she led on to be. she, of course, started coloring in max. with his neutrally blonde hair, redbull cap, she was fast working. 

but then she shoved the book towards you, politely anyways, and pointed at lando, who was yet to be colored in. 

“my turn?” she nodded her head, handing you the orange marker. 

you grinned, carefully coloring in the lines of the drawing before p took a deep breath. “are you and lando married?” 

the question had you freeze momentarily, taken back by her question. “no, p, we’re not.” 

you continued to color, whilst she continued to question. “why not?”

“because he hasn’t asked me.”

“why don’t you ask him?” 

“i’m not sure that’s what he wants.”

p raised a brow. she looked towards lando and max, giggling together like school girls, then back to you and your focused coloring.

she handed you a brown marker for lando’s curls. “i think you should.”

now it was your turn to be inquisitive, “really, now?”

she nodded her head without hesitating. “then you’d be my aunt!” she giggled. 

you colored in lando’s curls, carefully, diligently, thinking of how they felt beneath your fingertips. your breath hitched thinking about the thought of him proposing, wondering if he had ever even thought about it. you knew what your answer would be. it wouldn’t even take a beat of your heart to give him in answer, if he chose to ask. if he chose you. 

with one final stripe of a black marker, your drawing of lando had been finished. you stood up, and so did p. 

“are you going to have babies?”

“p!” you gasped, mouth dropping. “that’s none of your business, young lady.” 

she laughed, twirling around. “what? that’s what mama says happens when you love someone.” confident, wasn’t she? “do you love lando?”

“of course i do, p.”

she gasped.

“is there a baby in there right now?!” she seemed concerned, becoming so bold as to touch your stomach. it was a little higher than where your womb sat beneath your skin, but close enough. 

you shook your head. “no, honey. i am not having a baby right now.” 

she looked disappointed. taking her hand back, she crossed them over her chest. 

“penelope, what are you going on about?” kelly finally chimed in, rubbing p’s back with her hand. 

“nothing.” 

but it wasn’t nothing.

lando appeared behind you, a hand on your lower back. you leaned into him, recognizing his touch, and you got a brief wave of panic wondering if he heard your conversation with p. 

“p,” lando said over your shoulder. she looked up. “do you still have your bracelet making kit?” 

she nodded again, though you weren’t quite sure what he’d need it for. you guessed you’d find out eventually, because lando uttered, “it’s a secret, sorry baby.”

and he followed p to her small table, pulling out the kit from her backpack. she had taken lando’s hand to guide him, and you watched fondly. 

too fondly, you thought, and knew you were in deep shit.

the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be. 

in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.

you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress. 

relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs. 

your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other. 

“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on. 

“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling. 

and a good one at that. 

qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.

flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.

lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car. 

“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter. 

you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit. 

“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief. 

he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized. 

‘daddy’

you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. is this the bracelet he had made with p? 

lando let out a short laugh. “like it?” 

you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger. 

“wore it for you.” 

the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded. 

and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.” 

you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door. 

the following day was race day. you were dressed flawlessly, curating perfection with your outfits to match the same prestige that lando had with his fans. also, you enjoyed feeling pretty. looking pretty, as lando would often say to you. he didn’t forget this morning either, arriving to the paddock with you in tow, hand wrapped tightly with yours.

as he took selfie after selfie, signed hat after hat, he didn’t forget to remind you, “you look beautiful,” that always brought a smile to your face, a blush fanning your cheeks. 

when the two of you made it inside of mclaren’s hospitality, you were greeted by both lily and oscar. you gave her a warming hug, and she returned it with the same affirmation. when you separated, she danced on her tip-toes. lando and oscar side stepped toward the tea and coffee station, chatting amongst themselves. 

“wow!” you were confused, raising a brow. “front row for him, hmm? told you, had nothing to worry about.” 

you rolled your eyes, still holding anxieties for the race. you were always concerned going into a weekend. no matter how many grand prix’s you’ve attended, seen lando come out safe and sound, you still picked at the skin of your fingertips. anxious habits die hard. 

lando’s managers came in alongside oscar’s beckoning both mclaren drivers to follow them to get ready for the race. lando found you instantly, his hands finding the handles on your hips, squeezing inward. you tensed at the action, wondering what had him on such edge. 

you spun, hands running from his chest up to his neck, his cheeks. you cupped his face in your hands, sheepishly smiling. 

“you’ll win this for me?”

he scoffed, “always.” 

you smiled harder—if that was possible— and connected your lips with his. he returned your kiss, diving deep into your mouth. he held you close by your lower back, as if this was the last time that he’d ever kiss you. he sought to deepen your kiss by the clacking of your teeth, his tongue incessantly searching the inside of your mouth. 

you separated yourself, still holding onto his cheeks. lando dipped his forehead against yours, seeking another kiss, but you pulled away. “go. they’re waiting for you.” 

“don’t care.” 

you flushed, allowing him one last peck before you patted his cheek. “seriously. go.” 

he chuckled to himself, kissing the top of your head, uttering a soft “i love you,” before being swept away. 

“i love you too.” you mouthed, returning your attention back to lily. she was in awe of how you and lando behaved, carving such a rugged, playful boy into a man of posture and mannerisms that were only reflected by your good nature. 

“what?”

“nothing…” she looked away.

“lily.” 

“you’ve got that man on a leash,” she broke into a fit of giggles. you looked back to where they were walking out. lando had been looking for you, then at you. he gave a wave, you returned it, then looked back at lily. 

“i prefer the term ‘free-roaming.’” 

the race was coming to an end with a single lap left. lando led the race with a twenty-two second lead, and your hands were clasped tightly together with your headset on. you listened carefully to his radio messages, sassy and revving, and had your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. with lily by your side, the two of you were anxiously awaiting the end.

your face suddenly appeared on screen, displaying your glistening eyes, perfectly done makeup and hair. a chic smile grew on your cheeks. you turned towards the camera man and allotted a small wave. your name appeared under the screen, lando norris’ partner. 

god…

was there anything more prideful than that?

surely there was, but it didn’t matter to you. you were there to support your boyfriend, lando, your lando, and it was more than enough to see that you were recognized as that. 

the checkered flag appeared and lando was on the headline for crossing. you had to clutch your heart, hoping to grip it from the inside out to slow its beating, and it didn’t cease when his mcl38 zipped past the flag. 

there was an eruption of cheers throughout the garage and you were swarmed with love by the fellow mechanics and lily, too, who was happy for you to witness such a grand victory. a more than well earned victory. 

a second one in the books for him. you couldn’t have been happier. 

the podium gathering didn’t take long, and you managed to be at the front of the barricade, shoved forward by the team. you stood there, graceful and beautiful as he always saw you, and you were the loudest to clap and cheer as he walked out from the cool down room. 

“your winner, lando norris…!” and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, the camera picking up your emotional feedback on the big screen. his eyes caught to it from the bannister, stepping up onto the tallest podium, and found you right at the front. his heart melted, dripped a red hot flame that burned for you. to see you there for him, emotional above all, solidified his feelings. what he wanted in his future. 

you. you above anything else. you above racing, his career, his everything. he had nothing if you weren’t by his side. 

he took off his pirelli hat and let the national anthem play. the camera panned away from you then to zak brown. you swayed gently to the anthem, lost in your own world of loving him. you saw him through clear glasses, though he was always your rose. there was nothing more that you wanted in the future than to be with him. you and lando. 

after his attributed champagne pop, the crowd dissipated from the pit lane and you engaged in conversations with different women, friends, and coworkers of mclaren. you were jovial with your presence, engaged as much as you could be, though your thoughts kept tracing back to him. lando, lando, lando. 

you ended your evening in conversations with the ferrari women— alexandra, rebecca, and one of charles’ friends, marta. you’re a recent acquaintance, meeting her only just a few moments ago. she was noticeably pregnant, and you wondered if that was just the recurring theme of the day. 

“how far along are you?” rebecca chimed in. 

“about twenty weeks, i think.” she smiled, holding her bump and leaning back into one of her heels to get a more comfortable angle. 

“half way there! are you excited?” you asked her, sipping your sparkling water. 

“of course,” she grimaced, though there was joy behind her eyes. “it can be hard, but it’s worth it. always worth it to see my husband with my daughter, and now it’ll be brand new with this babe.” 

you gave her a heart-warming smile. 

“they kick every so often—” she grimaced again, reeling her face into a tight knot. “like right now. do you want to feel?” she was looking at you. it took you a second to understand that she was referring to you, but you jumped at the opportunity.

“are you sure…?” 

marta nodded. “put your hand here,” she placed your hand on her right side. you waited a moment before there was a small lurch beneath your palm. you looked up at her in pure disbelief, marveled by such a feeling. you wondered what it’d feel like to feel your own baby kick. 

“so…” alexandra leered mischievously, “do you plan on having children? with lando?” 

is everyone asking that today?

you stood up straight, embarrassed by the question, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “for sure. there’s no one else i want. whenever the time is right.” 

“he’d be such a good dad.” alexandra added, and you couldn’t agree more.

“you should’ve seen him earlier with penelope—” the girls were reeling at your story. “making bracelets with her. almost tripped over my own dress,” you covered your mouth to laugh, attempting to keep your voice down.

“someone has baby fever.” marta commented. 

“ugh,” rebecca groaned. “you two are picturesque. alex and i were just talking about it.” 

“oh?” you wished to know more by their insinuation. it wasn’t often that you listened to anything about you or lando’s relationship. half of the time it was negative comments from fans across social media, and you didn’t want the other half to get to your head. you knew you were lucky as is, the least you could do was stay humble. 

“ohhhh most definitely.” alexandra nodded. “you’ve been together for what— ever? we’re waiting for an engagement post.” 

you were floored. it has been a good amount of time. “so am i,” it came as a laugh. you wondered if lando thought about it. if the thought ever crossed his mind— the possibility of you becoming his wife. 

it did. 

he was watching you. he’d been done with his interviews for a good ten minutes now, but he was gripped by the scene unfolding before him. he had distracted himself by glancing at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through notifications. but he was staring. hard. 

your hand was so tender-loving as it grazed marta’s baby bump. you looked up at her with a graceful smile, asking her important questions about her pregnancy. why were you so interested? 

fuck, he hoped the answer he wanted was what you were thinking. 

you, pregnant in your floral dresses, pleated gowns, traipsing around the halls of your joint home. barefoot, glowing, effervescent. he could see it now. the vision coming to life, coming to fruition from just a mere fantasy. he felt his dick twitch in his pants, his groin running hot.

he overheard the conversation, too. 

“do you plan on having children? with lando?” 

for sure. there’s no one else i’d want. 

fuuuuck. lando had to turn around, attempting to calm himself down. his entire body was aflame, an eternal gloss of bliss for wanting you. needing you. he needed to feel you. your touch. your skin beneath him, the way you curl effortlessly against the shape of his body.

yeah, he’s fucked. 

after a few calming deep breaths, he was at least presentable. with his calmed down cock, he immediately made a beeline in your direction. he wanted—no, needed to get his hands around you as soon as possible. it was a world-ending feeling that suffocated him, gripped him by the throat. 

you heard him approach before you saw him. lando’s hands were warm around your hips as he pulled you close. you felt the outline of his cock in his pants as he jut his hips forward. you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing up at him. 

his nose found a home in the curve of your neck. you giggled when you felt his stubble tickle your skin, a hand coming instinctively to hold the side of his face tight against your skin. he breathed soundly against you, finding eternal peace of mind plastered against your body.

“it was nice seeing you alex, rebecca.” you began to bid your farewells. “marta, it was a pleasure to meet you.” marta leaned in for a hug, which pulled you away from the warmth of lando’s body. you felt like a snail ripped from its shell— hollow, cold. 

“the same for you,” pregnancy looked good on her. though, you can’t recall the last time you’ve seen her without a baby blooming inside her. “if you ever need advice…alex has my number.” 

you blushed, feeling lando’s hand around your lower belly tense. “thank you. i’ll be in touch.” you glance towards rebecca and alexandra, following lando’s pace back to the car.

lando’s eyes were hot as they drilled holes into the side of your head. you could feel it, though you weren’t even looking at him. “i can feel your urge to talk, lan.” 

he laughed, holding your hand tight in his. “no. no, it’s nothing.” 

you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“okay, okay,” he apologized, taking your hand back into his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. his lips were warm and wet against your skin. your breath hitched.

“well, go on, then.” 

“this is the congratulations i get? damn, baby, you’re rugged.” 

you shoved his face away, beginning to walk back to the car once more. “you know i’m proud. don’t be silly, now.” 

“i know, i know,” there was a brief silence. “you can show me in other ways.” 

“lando!” you gasped, and he broke into a fit of laughter. “dirty bastard.” you mumbled. 

“what was that, baby?” 

“nothing. nothing. just like what you wanted to tell me, i guess.” two can play at this game. you heard him scoff, but ultimately relent. 

“alright, alright. i just…” he became shy with the tone of his voice. you could recognize it instantly. “heard your conversation with the girls, is all.” 

you attempted your best effort to still your facial expressions from annoyance, shock, embarrassment, and all of the fucking above. 

 “you heard…all of it?” 

“the gist.” 

you tried to cover your face to shield yourself from the world. god, that was your fucking nightmare. you hadn’t ever even touched upon a subject like that with him before. and now he had heard it from you talking to your girlfriends? oh, you just felt like the worst girlfriend in the world right now. 

“fuck. i didn’t mean to—” 

“no, baby,” he opened the car door for you to slip into the passenger seat. you stepped in, gripping his forearm to sit down. 

when he climbed in himself and turned over the engine, you shifted to face him. before you could even open your mouth to speak, he cut you off. 

“i want kids, too, you know. with you.” 

“oh.” a weight lifted from your shoulders in that moment, and then you felt utterly stupid for thinking that he would’ve reacted badly. this is your lando you’re talking to. a man you can share anything with. “you do?” 

he looked flabbergasted. “you’re joking, right?”

you shot your hands up in defense. “i don’t know! children aren’t exactly…temporary. i just— i didn’t know if you thought of me—”

“you’re permanent, love.” his hand wrapped around your thigh as he pulled out of the driver’s lot, whipping past the fans that were keen on snapping a picture of him. 

though you’ve known that, deep down, it still hit you like the first time he told you that he loved you. a jaw-dropping epiphany that had been right in front of you the whole time. you’d been short-sighted, enjoying every moment that you had with him, and had become unknowing about the future you’ve been perpetuating with him.

you covered his hand with your own, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. the charm bracelet ‘daddy’ dangled between your fingers, rolling the beads over and over again. 

“you’d make a good daddy, wouldn’t you?” you said the words under your breath, but even he could hear them like you’d shouted them in his face. he tightened his grip around your thigh.

“don’t say things like that,” he shook his head, eyes locked on the road ahead. 

the air became heavy between you two. when wasn’t it? not only did passion run through your veins, but heinous desire breathed life to your souls. 

“why?” you stroked the top of his hand with your nails. “you heard what i said to the girls.” his head lolled against the back rest. “what’s different now?” 

you felt the car accelerate. it vibrated the cushion you were nestled atop of, sending shockwaves through your cunt.

“driving me fucking nuts, darling.” 

you knew you were. it was the secret to your relationship— the two of you understanding what made you tick. seethe with lust until there was no other option for you to climb him like a tree.

it didn’t take long before he reached the hotel, pulling up to the front. you were getting your things to get up, but he was lost on his phone, pretending to be busy. “coming?” you asked.

“pfft—” you could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror. “i wish. give me a second.” you couldn’t help but huff to yourself under your breath, stepping out of the car with your heels clinking to the ground.

 with your purse over your shoulder you stepped up onto the curb, but was distracted by a small voice echoing over your shoulder. 

down the sidewalk was a mother and a stroller. you smirked lowly, taking only the few steps it’d take to reach the mother and child. 

“oh my gosh,” you squealed. the mother was taken back, but by your demeanor and eyes on her baby, she returned a smile. by her pink bonnet and bunny swath, you knew she was the cutest thing you’d ever laid eyes on. “she is just the cutest thing!” 

“thank you,” the woman said.

“she looks just like her mama,” you heard lando’s car door open, most definitely within earshot. “don’t you, sweet thing? yes you do!” you cooed at the baby, who erupted in a fit of louder giggles and mumbles. 

the mother was flushed, but happy. “you’re too kind. you’re good with children? do you have any of your own?” 

jackpot..!!

you clutched your purse as you stood up straight. you played into your theatrics, “oh gosh, i wish! my husband and i have been trying for ages, but he’s just so busy with work…” 

the woman tsked with disappointment for you. “you’d make a beautiful mother,” 

“you think so?” 

she nodded her affirmation. 

“that’s so sweet of you.” you were really milking this scene, especially that you knew lando was listening. 

“is that your husband there?” she pointed to over your shoulder. and there he was, your husband, watching the two of you from behind the ajar car door. 

“mmm, yes, it is.” you offered a cordial wave to him. he stuck two fingers up for a lazy wave, waiting for you to return to him. “i should go. it was a pleasure, ma’am. your baby is adorable.”

she nodded a thanks, and you took your sweet time walking back to the car. you could hear lando tapping the windshield incessantly. before his head dipped down back into the car he called, “get back in.” 

you…admit, you were confused. brows furrowed, you opened the passenger side door and bent down, “why—?”

“get in the car,” your name was a rumble in his chest. you still didn’t know what he was doing nor going, and your stubborn self wouldn’t settle for a verbal answer.

you took too long for him. gripping your arm, he pulled you into the passenger seat, and you landed on your ass with a ‘thump’. 

he fired up the engine again and pulled out of the traffic circle of the hotel. he radiated with heat— you could feel it from where you sat. “where are we going?” 

he didn’t answer you. 

you crossed your arms and legs, looking out the window. the area was unknown to you, but lando always seemed like he knew where he was going. 

it took only a minute for him to pull into an empty level of a parking garage, dimly lit with only one overhead light at the entrance of the ramp. he put the car in park. 

“what are we—”

you couldn’t finish your sentence until you were on his lap, hands gripping your waist so tightly that you had to gasp for air. 

“husband?” 

oh

oh…!

well, this was a change you welcomed with open arms. 

he lowered the seat back until you were straddled atop of him, fingers aimlessly toiling with the zipper of his jeans. 

“don’t know what you’re—”

he snapped upward, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “baby,” he breathed, and you shivered. “what do you want?”

your hips naturally moved back and forth against his own, dress hiked well above your stomach. his hand snaked between your legs, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. he hummed when you didn’t reply, flicking his finger upward to graze your clit. 

you mewled. 

“what was that?”

your hand twisted around the hem of his shirt. you were already breathless, clenching around nothing except the sound of his words. 

“tell me,” he muttered, staring up at your disheveled state. he made quick work of sliding your panties to the side, massaging the folds of your cunt between his fingers. you continued your writhing against him. 

“want you,” was what you managed to breathe out, hips rutting against his palm. he tsked, but allowed you this moment. a moment for him to bask in the way that you move your hips, writhe against his clothed cock that was egregiously hardening by the second and each amount of pressure you applied. 

he slid his fingers in and out of you with ultra maneuvering, in and out, all around. he was a mastermind when it came to feeling you up, exploring you both on the outside, and the in. you were in heaven, ultimately, when he curled his fingers so deeply upon thrusting them. your cunt tightened so viciously around him that he groaned, his head falling back and his hardened cock thrusting upward. to no avail, his dick was strained against the cloth of his pants.

“fuck,” he cussed, curling his fingers over and over again. your body began to shiver, and only began to fall from grace when his thumb traced against your clit. stimulation grew hotter and hotter, until you let out a piercing moan from the depths of your throat. he angled his fingers differently, making you squirm.

“lando!” you breathed, feeling your climax creeping up on you faster than you could even blink. your core tightened, a coil of veracious flames churning around each other manifesting a slew of energy that released sparks from your nerves. your folds were inflamed, puffy, beating hot that you couldn’t think straight. lando was touching you with his other hand anywhere that he could reach. he palmed your breasts through your dress, twisted a nipple to earn a delicious squeal. 

“come on, sweet thing,” he encouraged you with that stupid lopsided smile of his, you were looking down on him, sweat beading at his forehead, pupils blown dark and wide. his hand that was groping your breast moved upward, threading around the column of your throat. “show daddy what you’re made of.” 

his hand tightened, and you felt the coil snap. he continued to pump his fingers in and out, maneuvering so perfectly, hitting that exact spot with precision. 

he knew you came when your eyes rolled back into your head, legs quivering around his waist. god, you’re a sexy thing. 

his hand loosened from around your neck, dropping to your chest, fiddling with the van cleef necklace he had gifted you. it reeked of possession, marking you as his with the “l.n.” initials engraved on the back of the golden surface.

the moment of bliss passed before he was pulling the zipped down from your dress and throwing it from over your head. your panties were next, though the fabric was thin as is. there you were, bare and glistening, before your so-called ‘husband’ as you had worded it. he wouldn’t forget it, a spark igniting within him that was lit by the phrase leaving your tongue. he didn’t think that it would affect him so much—

but it did. 

he made quick work of his own pants, shoving them down to his knees beneath you, breathless and needy. 

you gripped the hem of his shirt. he lifted his arms to hasten the process, and the shirt went to the back seat. with his skin exposed, you couldn’t help but run your hands along his tan, toned chest. it made you dripping wet, though he was barely touching you now. 

with your skin atop of his, carnage was sure to ensue. he took a drag of his fingers against your wet cunt and brought it to his lips. he sucked on them, releasing with a ‘pop.’ your mouth hung open in anticipation for what he was going to do next. he always kept you on your toes. 

but this…this is not what you expected. 

he took a ring from his index finger, plated in silver, and slid it onto your ring finger on your left hand. the wedding finger. 

it stuck to your sweaty palm, sure enough to not slip off. 

“let’s make it official then, pretty girl.” 

you sat upon him astonished, looking down at the adornment that he had given to you. it dazzled on your finger. 

“if you’re my wife, what does that make me?”

the words trembled from your lips, thighs tightening around his own. you could feel his dick sprung to life against your backside. “my husband.” 

“good, baby, you learn fast.” 

you gulped, finally taking a look at him from his propped upright position. he was downright smitten with you, guzzling everything about you inside of him. you were his, so much fucking so, that he was going to ruin you. and he didn’t even feel bad for wanting it. 

“my husband…” you repeated, lowering your face down to meet his own. he smelled so good—a mix of sweat and his cologne. 

his hand tangled into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to meet your eye level. 

“makes me fucking crazy when y’say it…” 

you knew that was the truth. you’d known the minute you sat down in the car. his demeanor had changed, shifted to something darker that you didn’t quite understand. it was insane enough as is that you’d discovered so many things about him within a short period of time. 

“husband, daddy…what’s the difference?” you cooed, kissing up and down his neck. he groaned, landing a smack on your ass that had you giggling. 

“‘ll just make you a mommy if you keep throwin’ that word ‘round.” 

you grinned ear to ear. against his cheek, you took a deep breath in, before letting go. 

“daddy.” 

if you’ve ever made a good decision in your life, this has to be the best. a switch flipped. gears started to turn in his head. the spark plug burst into flames. 

you were his undoer,

the key to his shackled restraint,

the sun to his universe.

it was always you. you’d been right in front of him for the past two years. two years to get to this point. two years for the woman he loved most in this world to be sucking his neck whispering ‘daddy’ into his ear. 

lando sat upright in the seat. with a hand at the back of your head, he forced eye contact with you. this was different. this look. you could feel it in your heart, your folds, as they began to beat synchronously. life with him was euphoria, and sex had been the serendipitous release for both of you. 

but seeking the future together?

heaven incarnate.

despite being locked inside such a tight space, lando managed to swap your position with a suave move. you were on your back, shocked by his carnal rampage, as he hooked your legs upward. your toes scathed the ceiling of the car, pressed deep into the metal chassis. 

“kiss me,” you demanded with the breath that you could take. he didn’t waste a second, leaning down to your lips and capturing you with the most breathtaking press that he could muster. his tongue and your own fought for dominance over one another; you lost, quickly, unable to match his revered pace. 

he wanted to eat you from top to bottom. devour your insides, carry you with him every day of his life. you would be his, one way or another, and he didn’t care how it was. 

lucky enough, you were more than willing to be his bride, his lover, his person. 

because he was yours. 

then he was inside of you. braving the treachery of your tight walls, he hissed when the tip of his cock slipped through your folds. you’d been dripping on the leather seat. 

“fuck, baby…” his head fell to the crevice of your neck and collarbone. 

“oh my goddd…” the moan you both let out was terribly lewd, grotesque, even, with how he didn’t start a pace. you both savored this sweet moment of lust, passion, and a figurative toast to a lifelong commitment to fucking one another. 

with each thrust he took, he aimed to make a statement. deeper and deeper he penetrated you, his cock crafted of divine measure with how he quartered your g-spot. 

you could never stay still beneath him. it had him on edge the way you squirmed. dare say it was one of the most favorite things about you, though the list would be never-ending. you shiver from pleasure, leaning into him as your cunt squelches beneath you. 

echoes of moans bounce off the interior of the car, whilst a smile of greed and possession conceives on his own cheeks. the angle he has you at is deeper than any that you’ve had before— it left no room for noncommittal nature, no room for you to complain about wanting him closer, more, more, more. 

“y’feel me here?” his hand rest on your lower belly, your womb, as he applied pressure. you do feel him there. the indent of his cock is poignant, bulging out from the skin. 

“mhm…!” you whine, trying to keep your mouth shut from the onslaught of moans pouring out. 

his attention turned to your tits as he swallowed a nipple whole with his tongue, sucking feverishly at the sensitive bud. it had you weak, dribbling to puddy. 

he could only think about how you’d look pregnant. swollen tits, round belly, glowing with his child. 

“this what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace quickening. you were too dumb to speak, a droplet of drool leaking from your mouth. “hm? fuck you—fuck, fill you up?” 

your back arched at the sentence, not knowing that his words could have such an arousing effect on you. this arousal was different. the way you clench around him was different. your actions spoke a lot louder than your words. 

“yeah? i can feel you, darling.” sounds of skin slapping and your hoarse voice could only be heard. he fucked you so good, treated you even better. fuck it, you’d rather be pregnant than anything else. 

“please, please…” you didn’t know what you were pleading for, in truth— he was already fucking you like he’d been in a rut. 

“yeah? that what you want? want a baby?” 

your head nodded furiously up and down, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks. lando bent down to kiss them away, followed by a capturing of your lips. he swallowed your breaths, your moans. he trailed kisses down the column of your throat; your collarbones, breasts, nipples, nothing went untouched by his mouth. 

“god…these…” he muttered against your tits, voice sending shockwaves through your body. “imagine how big they’d be.” he managed to chuckle to himself. “swollen and beautiful,” he kissed the top of your abdomen. 

“lando…”

his head shot up from his daze. 

“the time is right. please, please—” your words seemed to hit him like a truck. the foreplay had turned reality, and he was more than ready to lurch into fate. 

“what, pretty girl?”

your face flushed, biting your lip. “give me a baby, need it—lan, need it so bad.” your hand found the back of his neck, tugging on the strands of his hair. 

he tsked, his pace evening out to a level throttle. your lips formed a sweet pout, and he stroked your chin with his index finger. “give you?” he mocked. “oh, don’t think that’s how we ask, do we?”

“lan…please, please, can i have your baby? need it so bad lando, need it…” you swallowed your breath. “daddy…wanna make you a daddy…please.” 

it was more than enough for him. “atta girl.” he grunted, deepening his lackluster thrusts into thrilling rides on his cock. “y’learn fast…kids ‘r gonna be so smart.” 

“yes, yes! so good, lan.” you heaved, the heat in your cunt finding a boiling point, and he felt it by how tight you became around him. 

“go on, baby, take it. be a good girl and take it all.” you’d do anything to hear your lando call you a good girl. it had been more than enough to send you over the edge into a spiraling orgasm that had slick seeping around his cock. your vision whitened, and you could only see the shadow of your ‘husband’ through the light. 

with sloppy thrusts, lando came with ease. he didn’t pull out urgently, letting his cum soak inside of you. he peppered kisses along your ankles, your calves, and let them fall to the seat. 

out of breath, your chests rose and fell at a rapid pace. lando’s forehead connected with your own, and through the haze of post-sex, he smiled at you. 

you smiled back. the two of you broke into a laugh. 

“fuckin’ knew that was gonna happen today.” he commented lazily into your chest. a hand of yours threaded through his brown curls. 

“your mastermind plan to babytrap me.” 

he raised a brow. “did you plan on leaving?”

you gave him a knowing look. “not in the slightest.” 

he became embarrassed and sheepish as he hid his face into your ribs. “no chance of it, now.” 

you chuckled, flexing your fingers to see the ring still there. “i want a real proposal, by the way.” 

his head shot up. “what? this wasn’t good enough?”

you palmed his face with one hand, and tugged the back of his curled head with the other. “bastard.” 

it only took you two ten minutes to get your clothes back on from such a leisurely excursion from the empty parking garage. covered in his spit, sweat, and cum, you didn’t feel….dirty. 

when he finally pulled up to the valet and opened the door for you, you stepped out as graciously as possible. though your hair was a tangled mess— you tried your best. lucky enough it was late enough to where minimal paparazzi were gathered. thank god. 

you shifted on your feet, shimmying the dress down, but lando came to your rescue. he pulled the dress down where it was crumpled at the back, caught between the hem of your soaked underwear. 

“that was a rental, wasn’t it?” you pointed out, looking over your shoulder.

“they should auction it.” 

you spun around and laughed in his face, gagged by the ego he has. “you have a big head.” 

“need all that room for you.” 

“cheesy.” 

lando’s eyes lit up— though exhausted from the day and your antics, the sun still rose for him— “almost forgot—” he reached into his pocket whilst you waited patiently. 

he pulled out a bracelet.

a friendship bracelet. 

“thought it suited you.” he put it around your wrist, and you analyzed it clearly. in white, capitalized letters it read:

“MOMMY”

“you really had this thing planned.” you were impressed. 

he shifted on his heels, throwing his hands up as if saying ‘what can i say?’ “p thinks you’re pregnant now.” 

you gasped. “lando!” 

“i mean…hopefully.” he winked as you fiddled with the jewelry, still not bothering to take off the ring from your finger. 

“well…” you brought a finger to your lips, thinking, “we have to be certain, don’t we?” 

lando was catching your drift as you walked backwards towards the entrance of the hotel, luring him in with your charisma. “perhaps…”

“so…we need to try again.” he wasn’t going to argue with that. “and again.” or that. “and again, for good measure.” 

“you’re gonna kill me, baby.” he whined, chasing you up the steps. you squealed, running forward. inside the elevator you two went, clicking the floor for your room. 

after further inspection, lando’s brows furrowed after he glanced over you. “what?” 

he covered his mouth to shield his devious smile. 

“what, lando?” 

he coughed to hide his amusement, but it was a very bad act. “you’re…”

“what?” 

“you’re dripping.”

you looked down at your thighs and saw the glistening reflection of his cum seeping out of you. fuck. maybe the first time was the charm, but you hoped it wasn’t. 

you really hoped it wasn’t. 

tags ; @landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[tetsumie]

heyy when you have the time to do so, can i request college!suna x reader angst to fluff where reader tries to spend time with suna but they get into an argument where he decides to spend time with his athlete friend group but then feels guilty and make up with reader through heart to heart conversation? 🫶🏻sorry if this is so long i have no idea how to make the prompt shorter but honestly i love all the fics you post so idc if you change it up a bit just thought i’d give an idea

𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

pairing: suna rintaro x gen!neutral reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: you confront him about the growing distance in your relationship, something he's been dismissing for a while, until he finally grasps the seriousness of the situation

cw: suna is a bit harsh; arguments but they make up <3

a/n: hihi anon! ty for requesting and i hope it's to your liking :D i'm still accepting requests for my 1k event so feel free to send more into my inbox!

"it's like i never see you anymore!"

suna and you have been in this back and forth argument for what felt like an eternity and it's draining the life out of you.

suna has been preoccupied with the upcoming inter-collegiate volleyball tournament. as a starter on the prestigious division 1 ejp raijin volleyball team, the arduous practices and pressure have been taking a heavier toll than expected on him.

as a result of this, suna has been incredibly distant in your relationship. he was always gone before you woke up in the morning and didn't return until after you fell asleep. every time you tried to plan a date or suggest something to do together, he somehow always cancels. it's always, "sorry i have to run some extra drills. maybe another day?"

it's exhausting putting this much effort into your relationship when it all seems in vain.

you've tried bringing this up to suna before, mentioning how you would like to spend more time together. but suna, being suna, always brushed it off. but there's only so much dismissal you can take.

you really miss your boyfriend.

but you're not sure he misses you the way you miss him.

"y/n you can't expect me to drop everything for you! like fuck, i have a life outside of you," he exclaims, snapping you back to the current argument at hand.

"i didn't say that, rin."

"that's what you're trying to say," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

you shake you head, lowering your voice. "i know volleyball always has and always will be a top priority for you but i just wish... well, it would be nice if you could put a bit of effort into our relationship."

"what if i don't even want to anymore..." he mumbles under his breath as he walks to the closet, grabbing a coat.

the rage in your heart and mind now simmer down to a feeling of dread and heartbreak. what?

as he turns around, he sends an icy glare at you. you've never seen this side of him and you refuse to let him see you crumble apart in front of him. you refuse to break down right now.

"you don't want to what, suna?" you look at him, tone icy cold. "go on. tell me."

the heated environment is making his mind all cloudy and he wants to end this conversation now.

"you know what i mean, y/n. i'm going out. don't call me."

the door opens and slams shut.

the moment the door closes, you're completely still. you're running on autopilot. you find yourself making a cup of tea and sitting at the dining table, looking at the empty, lifeless apartment sprawled in front of you.

subconsciously, the tears started to roll. i guess that's it then. i think i better start packing my things. i should be gone by the time he comes back home.

meanwhile, suna makes his way downtown to the bar where some of his volleyball friends had invited him out for a couple drinks. he opens the door to the bar and he can hear the familiar rowdiness of his friends.

"well, well, well, if it ain't the infamous sunarin from ejp," a familiar blonde comes running to him. "been too long since i've seen ya stupid ass."

"yeah yeah whatever asshole," suna slaps the back of atsumu and nods over at osamu who's sitting on the table. "it's good to see you both."

as suna and atsumu head to the table in the back with the rest of his friends, his mind can't help but linger back to the argument that he had with you. but he decides to shake his mind off it.

he's here to have fun with his friends right now. not be worried about you.

"you didn't bring y/n tonight?" komori, suna's teammate, asks. "i haven't seen them in a hot minute. what've they been up to?"

what have you been up to? he doesn’t know. when was the last time we both had an actual conversation? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t even know what's been going on in your life lately. fuck this is what y/n meant.

he forces a smile, masking the bitter thoughts playing in his mind. "they're good. just doing their classes and stuff."

"ah right, well bring them by sometime! it's been too long since i've seen them. they never fail to light up the room with their presence."

"yeah you're right."

he nods, taking small sips from the beer in front of him.

as the conversation and chaos ensue among his friends, his mind keeps drifting back to the memories of the argument he walked out on. his mind has cooled off and a sense of guilt starts to take over his body.

here he is having fun with his friends while you're at home all alone, waiting for him. you just wanted to spend time with him and here he was, finding comfort in other people other than you.

he tries to remember the last time you both had gone out together but he's drawing a complete blank. he can't even remember the last time he's kissed you or held you in his hands.

no wonder you've been feeling so lonely.

and in response, he just kept brushing you off until you blew up today. and to make matters worse, he walked out of the argument giving you no sense of reassurance or closure on the matter.

at the realization, suna shoots up out of his seat with flushed cheeks. the group turns to him.

"i gotta head out for the night. i gotta see my baby."

"get a fuckin' room sunarin," osamu shouts. the rest of the groups howls in agreement. "see ya."

he waves goodbye and starts trudging his way back to the shared apartment. he expects to find you asleep so he can crawl into bed with you and cuddle, never intending on letting you go.

so you can imagine the surprise when he opens the door and sees the bedroom light on and hears rustling noises. "baby?" he calls out. "y/n?"

he takes off his shoes and coat and walks to the bedroom. he starts to internally panic at the sight in front of him.

you have a couple of suitcases out filled with your clothes and belongings. at a glance, he can see that your side of the closet is almost empty. you've even taken down a couple of the decor pieces in the room that you bought but he was never particularly interested in. with your headphones in, you’re focused on packing, but what breaks him the most is seeing you wipe your eyes as you do so. why are you even packing? where are you going?

and then it hits him.

not only did he make it seem like he didn’t want to make this relationship work, but his actions have been driving you away. fuck, this was bad. he didn't mean any of it. he has to fix it or he's gonna lose the best thing in his life for good.

he goes over to you and taps your shorted and you yelp, startled by the 6'2" man, hovering above you.

"what the hell are you doing?" suna asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

you wipe your eyes. "i'm leaving."

"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs.

"ridiculous?" you laugh at the absurdity of his comment. "what's ridiculous is how you walk out of an argument not even wanting to work things out. what's ridiculous is how you just continue to put me aside like i’m some side piece."

he knows you’re hurting. and it’s all his fault.

he doesn’t know how to properly express everything he needs to say to you.

so in the heat of it all, he does what he thinks is the next best thing and kisses you.

you'd forgotten this feeling. his soft lips on yours and how they fit together just right. it's the softest kiss he's ever given to you and your heart swells at the gesture.

you pull away and you plop yourself on the floor to process what just happened.

right there and then, he looks at you. he really looks at you. he notices the way you have some baby hairs popping out and your cheeks feel warm from all that crying. he notices the way your eyes look slightly puffed out and the remnants of tears on your cheeks.

i'm the cause of this. this is all my fault.

"i’m sorry," he begins.

you sigh and look away mumbling to yourself. "you’ve said that before. it doesn’t change anything."

"and you’re right."

you look up at him, surprised by his admission. "w-what?"

"you’re absolutely right, y/n."

he crouches down to your level, resting his hand on your knee so he can look you in the eye.

"i shouldn't have made it seem i wasn't willing to put in the effort into making us work," he says, gesturing between you and him. "my actions and what i said to you a couple hours ago obviously made it seem that way and i'm an absolute dumbass for not picking up on it."

you’re silent. he searches your face, looking for any speck of emotion, but he still can’t read you. in the amount of time he's known you, you’ve always been the exception.

"i've been swamped with so much work lately and i know i need to do better. i spread myself so thin that i forgot to prioritize the things and the people that matter the most to me."

you're silent, unsure of what to say to him.

"i thought i was doing the best i could do until i realized i could be doing so much more for us and for you. i'm so sorry for not being here."

"i know rin," you whisper. finally, for the first time you look up from your lap to look at him. "it just felt like you didn't care about us anymore. you're the hardest worker i know but i just wish you were here sometimes."

"and i wouldn't be able to be that hard worker without your love and support, you know," his hand cups your cheek as he runs his thumb across the tear streaks on your face.

"i realize how absent i’ve been in our relationship lately and i can’t imagine how lonely you’ve been feeling. i want to make this relationship work with you. i know i suck at being sappy and shit but you really are my other half. no matter what it takes, i’ll make us work. i’ll fight for this relationship. i'll fight for us."

"oh, rin," you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in close for a hug. the tears begin to flow from your eyes.

he feels his eyes glaze over. he breathes in your familiar scent and feels a warmth he’s missed.

even after everything, you still love him.

he starts with a gentle kiss on your cheek, then starts peppering your face with soft kisses.

you let out a watery chuckle, making his heart skip a beat. he hasn't heard your laugh in forever and he swears to himself to never be the reason for your tears again.

"let's go to bed now baby. i've gotta cuddle away all the pain i've caused you."

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved

[qwiopty]

TAILS GIJINKA BREAKDOWN!

FINALLY!! i put together some tails gijinka/humanized stuff LOL!! see below for some goodies and an in depth (kind of indulgent) breakdown!!

[for the third image: sonic gijinka design belongs to @noka-exe !! i havent really come up with my own but i like theirs :-) ]

thisss gijinka is packed with headcanons LOL.. beware!! for starters...hes just a little guy!! i took visual inspo from markl (howls moving castle) and simon (gurrenn lagann)!! mostly simon bc i find a lot of similarities between him and tails.. short and unassuming shy boys who are also compassionate and brave!! (isn't it also awesome how simon and tails both have an older brother figure who encourages them to be brave.. 💥💥🤯 and they both have some sort of space opera and id go on but thats spoilers!!) i also went with a prosthetic leg to kind of represent his tail!! i think it could parallel to how tails' tails can act like a mobility aid, and he'd get the opportunity to tinker and repair them too!! it could also possibly correlate to how tails makes something he was picked on and bullied for, his tails, and uses it to his advantage! and again tying in his interest for mechanics and being able to customize and repair it is a concept that i find neat!! (maybe some inspo from fullmetal alchemist.. bahahaha..)

speaking of customization. i also love the idea of him covering them with stickers!! i've already added tails' own emblem on there but this has prompted me to look into adding some more!

(sorry that im singling you out again @tornado1992 LMAO i just loved your input!!) but i also love the hc that tails gets hand me downs from sonic!! for instance his gloves.. ik theyre not directly from sonic but it is such a sweet detail that tails has a rubber band around those oversized gloves to mimic sonic! and tails definitely has the means to make his own fitted gloves yet he still has those bands on in his modern models!! auhgh!! so yes.. lets say the hoodie is so oversized and oozing with swag cause it originally belonged to sonic! :-) maybe tails likes it so much that he designs the cyclone after it!! just some ideas... more depth into his clothes: i drew a lot of inspo from already existing tails-related designs!! the main outfit i draw him in is a large short-sleeve hoodie with some elements pulled from the cyclone and tails' racesuit design from sonic speed simulator! he also has his goggles and shoes from sonic riders, with some slight details added on!! see below for a better look at the outfit LOL

(the pins on his crossbody bag are a fly-type emblem, a mint, and a red star ring! theres also a sonic keychain that i keep forgetting to add/switch out with the fly type emblem LOL)

here's some more doodles from last year with this design!

yes i did make a classic design for him!! his younger hair is more of that nice vintage orange-yellow but as he gets older itll turn amber then maybe gold? i was also thinking he dons some red clothing to reflect his admiration for sonic but later starts implementing his own style with some grays and blues!!

i'll also point out that i lean into more of a space-pilot design instead of the usual aviator pilot!! tbf i was raised on sonic x season 3 which is just a huge space opera.. 😅😅 but i still do love the aviator pilot concept!!

this should be about everything i have to dump about my design!! im not usually this talkative in posts so im a little embarassed to be sharing this at all 💀 but if u read through all of this thank you so much LMFAO im so crazy about him!! if you have any questions or ideas youd like to share id love to hear them!! maybe draw them out too... i may even do a cosmo design update/breakdown!! for fun.. heres the first tails gijinka post i ever posted!!

also shoutout to @corvussio for the incredible detailed comment on my other tails design post!! i know its been ages but i still think about how you took the time to look into each and every detail!! thank you greatly pal!!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Academic economists get big payouts when they help monopolists beat antitrust

After 40 years of rampant corporate crime, there's a new sheriff in town: Jonathan Kanter was appointed by Biden to run the DOJ Antitrust Divisoon, and he's overseen 170 "significant antitrust actions" in the past 2.5 years, culminating in a court case where Google was ruled to be an illegal monopolist:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/07/revealed-preferences/#extinguish-v-improve

Kanter's work is both extraordinary and par for the course. As Kanter said in a recent keynote for the Fordham Law Competition Law Institute’s 51st Annual Conference on International Antitrust Law and Policy, we're witnessing an epochal, global resurgence of antitrust:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/speech/assistant-attorney-general-jonathan-kanter-delivers-remarks-fordham-competition-law-0

Kanter's incredible enforcement track record isn't just part of a national trend – his colleagues in the FTC, CFPB and other agencies have also been pursuing an antitrust agenda not seen in generations – but also a worldwide trend. Antitrust enforcers in Canada, the UK, the EU, South Korea, Australia, Japan and even China are all taking aim at smashing corporate monopolies. Not only are they racking up impressive victories against these giant corporations, they're stealing the companies' swagger. After all, the point of enforcement isn't just to punish wrongdoing, but also to deter wrongdoing by others.

Until recently, companies hurled themselves into illegal schemes (mergers, predatory pricing, tying, refusals to deal, etc) without fear or hesitation. Now, many of these habitual offenders are breaking the habit, giving up before they've even tried. Take Wiz, a startup that turned down Google's record-shattering $23b buyout offer, understanding that the attempt would draw more antitrust scrutiny than it was worth:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/wiz-turns-down-23-billion-022926296.html

As welcome as this antitrust renaissance is, it prompts an important question: why didn't we enforce antitrust law for the 40 years between Reagan and Biden?

That's what Kanter addresses the majority of his remarks to. The short answer is: crooked academic economists took bribes from monopolists and would-be monopolists to falsify their research on the impacts of monopolists, and made millions (literally – one guy made over $100m at this) testifying that monopolies were good and efficient.

After all, governments aren't just there to enforce rules – they have to make the rules first, and do to that, they need to understand how the world works, so they can understand how to fix the places where it's broken. That's where experts come in, filling regulators' dockets and juries' ears with truthful, factual testimony about their research. Experts can still be wrong, of course, but when the system works well, they're only wrong by accident.

The system doesn't work well. Back in the 1950s, the tobacco industry was threatened by the growing scientific consensus that smoking caused cancer. Industry scientists confirmed this finding. In response, the industry paid statisticians, doctors and scientists to produce deceptive research reports and testimony about the tobacco/cancer link.

The point of this work wasn't necessarily to convince people that tobacco was safe – rather, it was to create the sense that the safety of tobacco was a fundamentally unanswerable question. "Experts disagree," and you're not qualified to figure out who's right and who's wrong, so just stop trying to figure it out and light up.

In other words, Big Tobacco's cancer denial playbook wasn't so much an attack on "the truth" as it was an attack on epistemology – the system by which we figure out what is true and what isn't. The tactic was devastatingly effective. Not only did it allow the tobacco giants to kill millions of people with impunity, it allowed them to reap billions of dollars by doing so.

Since then, epistemology has been under sustained assault. By the 1970s, Big Oil knew that its products would render the Earth unfit for human habitation, and they hired the same companies that had abetted Big Tobacco's mass murder to provide cover for their own slow-motion, planetary scale killing spree.

Time and again, big business has used assaults on epistemology to provide cover for unthinkable crimes. This has given rise to today's epistemological crisis, in which we don't merely disagree about what is true, but (far more importantly) disagree about how the truth can be known:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/25/black-boxes/#when-you-know-you-know

Ask a conspiratorialist why they believe in Qanon or Hatians in Springfield eating pets, and you'll get an extremely vibes-based answer – fundamentally, they believe it because it feels true. As the old saying goes, you can't reason someone out of a belief they didn't reason their way into.

This assault on reason itself is at the core of Kanter's critique. He starts off by listing three cases in which academic economists allowed themselves to be corrupted by the monopolies they studied:

George Mason University tricked an international antitrust enforcer into attending a training seminar that they believed to be affiliated with the US government. It was actually sponsored by the very companies that enforcer was scrutnizing, and featured a parade of "experts" who asserted that these companies were great, actually.

An academic from GMU – which receives substantial tech industry funding – signed an amicus brief opposing an enforcement action against their funders. The academic also presented a defense of these funders to the OECD, all while posing as a neutral academic and not disclosing their funding sources.

An ex-GMU economist, Joshua Wright, submitted a study defending Qualcomm against the FTC, without disclosing that he'd been paid to do so. Wright has elevated undisclosed conflicts of interest to an art form:

https://www.wsj.com/us-news/law/google-lawyer-secret-weapon-joshua-wright-c98d5a31

Kanter is at pains to point out that these three examples aren't exceptional. The economics profession – whose core tenet is "incentive matter" – has made it standard practice for individual researchers and their academic institutions to take massive sums from giant corporations. Incredibly, they insist that this has nothing to do with their support of monopolies as "efficient."

Academic centers often serve as money-laundries for monopolist funders; researchers can evade disclosure requirements when they publish in journals or testify in court, saying only that they work for some esteemed university, without noting that the university is utterly dependent on money from the companies they're defending.

Now, Kanter is a lawyer, not an academic, and that means that his job is to advocate for positions, and he's at pains to say that he's got nothing but respect for ideological advocacy. What he's objecting to is partisan advocacy dressed up as impartial expertise.

For Kanter, mixing advocacy with expertise doesn't create expert advocacy – it obliterates expertise, as least when it comes to making good policy. This mixing has created a "crisis of expertise…a pervasive breakdown in the distinction between expertise and advocacy in competition policy."

The point of an independent academia, enshrined in the American Association of University Professors' charter, is to "advance knowledge by the unrestricted research and unfettered discussion of impartial investigators." We need an independent academy, because "to be of use to the legislator or the administrator, [an academic] must enjoy their complete confidence in the disinterestedness of [his or her] conclusions."

It's hard to overstate just how much money economists can make by defending monopolies. Writing for The American Prospect, Robert Kuttner gives the rate at $1,000/hour. Monopoly's top defenders make unimaginable sums, like U Chicago's Dennis Carlton, who's brought in over $100m in consulting fees:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-09-24-economists-as-apologists/

The hidden cost of all of this is epistemological consensus. As Tim Harford writes in his 2021 book The Data Detective, the truth can be known through research and peer-review:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/04/how-to-truth/#harford

But when experts deliberately seek to undermine the idea of expertise, they cast laypeople into an epistemological void. We know these questions are important, but we can't trust our corrupted expert institutions. That leaves us with urgent questions – and no answers. That's a terrifying state to be in, and it makes you easy pickings for authoritarian grifters and conspiratorial swindlers.

Seen in this light, Kanter's antitrust work is even more important. In attacking corporate power itself, he is going after the machine that funds this nihilism-inducing corruption machine.

This week, Tor Books published SPILL, a new, free LITTLE BROTHER novella about oil pipelines and indigenous landback!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/25/epistemological-chaos/#incentives-matter

Image: Ron Cogswell (modified) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:George.Mason.University.Arlington.Campus.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[thefreakandthehair]

mistletoe.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: mistletoe | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: alternate universe- no upside down, alternate universe- flower shop au, eddie pov, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, confident!steve harrington, fluff, getting together, first kiss, background buckingham mention

It’s chaos. 

Clippings, and rogue petals, and ribbons that still need to be tied into bows as far as the eye can see. Long tables lined with crinkling plastic to protect the aged wood take up the center of the room, and somewhere off in the distance, Eddie can hear Chrissy on the phone with what sounds like a disgruntled, last-minute customer. 

“... Sir, it’s December. Most of our poinsettias have been reserved for weeks. We have two left that we can give you. You can have them, or you can—”

Eddie’s sure Chrissy’s about to kindly tell the phone stranger to go fuck himself and he couldn’t be prouder of how far she’s come, really, but he loses the thread on the conversation when Steve bustles in from the back.

“How many carnations does one middle school Winter Wonderland dance need, anyways? Are there even this many kids in the town?” In his warm, forest green jacket and black beanie with wind-flushed cheeks and rosy nose, Steve exhales and sets the box of carnations down on the counter. 

“Enough to pay the rent this month with carnations alone, apparently,” Eddie jokes, tapping Steve’s jean-clad shin with the toe of his boot. “We’ll be here all night doing these ribbons, won’t we?”

He tries to make it sound like a chore, like something he hasn’t been looking forward to since Chrissy told them she had a date and couldn’t stay. Any amount of alone time with Steve is welcome, even if it means tying tiny bows on small carnations and pricking his finger a hundred times with the stupid little pins. 

“Probably, yeah,” Steve shrugs with a smile. “It’s not so bad though, right?” 

“Not at all.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from beaming. 

When Chrissy wraps up her part— invoices, confirmations, and all of the paperwork shit that Eddie and Steve are better off leaving to Chrissy— she practically skips out of the office with a wave and a smirk. 

“You do know that if she and Robin hit it off, this is gonna be a regular thing, right?” Eddie jokes, hoisting himself up to sit on one of the tables and grabbing a ribbon to wrap around another flower. 

“Robin hasn’t stopped talking about Chrissy for months. This is going to be our life, Ed. Mark my words.” Steve laughs with Eddie’s favorite crooked smile, the one that only ever seems to be targeted at him. 

He tries not to let Steve’s phrasing dig its claws too deep into his lovestruck brain, but our life wiggles its way in regardless. 

Eddie looks around and takes in all of the fine details— a half-eaten bag of plain chips, two cans of coke, carnations and ribbons strewn about in somewhat orderly piles. Chrissy left the radio on when she left, the station alternating between the top hits and classic holiday songs, and Steve bobs his head to Wham!’s Last Christmas. 

This could be their life; not just the tumultuous riptide of highs and lows, but all of the mundane minutiae in between. 

Eddie and Steve. 

EddieandSteve. 

“You okay? Stab your thumb again?” Steve asks, tearing Eddie from his reverie. 

“Yes, and actually, yes,” Eddie laughs, breathy through his nose, and wipes his thumb on his jeans. Before Steve can grab his hand and check him over, and probably push Eddie over the edge into doing something incredibly fucking stupid in the process, he brushes it off. “It’s fine. Let's get these bitches done.”

Hours pass, quickly and comfortably, and they eventually tie their last ribbon. 

“We did it, Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie celebrates, hopping off of the table and tossing the last carnation into the box. “Do you still have skin on your fingers? I don’t think I have fingerprints anymore.” 

“Now would be the time to go commit some crimes,” Steve snorts, his nose wrinkling, and Eddie wants to kiss him right on the mouth. “Before you head out though, I uh, I think we forgot one. Close your eyes for a second.” 

“What?” 

“Just close your eyes? Please?”

Eddie does as Steve asks because he’s helpless to not, his brows knitting together in confusion because closed eyes. He hears rustling and the sound of scissors snipping ribbon. What’s so special about this carnation? What’s so secretive that Eddie has to close his eyes and miss valuable alone time with Steve? Doesn’t Steve get it? Every second with his eyes closed are seconds he doesn’t get to stare. 

Steve’s stool slides against the tile floor, scraping as Eddie feels Steve standing closer. Close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against him when he says, “Okay, open your eyes.”

In front of him is Steve Harrington, his favorite smile, and wide, hesitant eyes holding a hastily tied together bundle of mistletoe just above their heads. 

“I know it’s not Christmas yet or anything, but I couldn’t wait.” 

“You’re not fucking with me?” Eddie asks, heart clattering in his chest as hope gouges its way out of its deepest recesses. 

“Definitely not. I really like you, maybe more, and I know I didn’t have to wait for some big moment but tonight, just the two of us, it felt right. If I’m wrong, I’ll chuck this in the garbage and we can never bring it up again but—”

Eddie launches himself at Steve, both arms wrapping around Steve’s neck. 

Maybe he should’ve taken it slower— maybe their first kiss should’ve been patient, tender— but he’ll have other opportunities to show him the softness he deserves. Instead, Eddie kisses Steve just like he’s fallen in love with him: spontaneously, impulsively, urgently. Steve drops the thicket of branches and pulls him in closer, one hand balling the edge of Eddie’s shirt up in a fist by his hip and the other cupping the back of Eddie’s head, meeting his intensity wordlessly. 

Through the murky daze of Steve’s lips against his, Eddie hopes that this is their life. 

[love-fictional-ppl]

number 17 (smut)with Sirius Black plss!(u can always say no :) )

(Can I be roach anon?)

Ofccc 🙏🏻 ty for the req🙏🏻

Too Sweet

Summary: Your boyfriend, Sirius Black, asks to eat you out for the first time.

Pairings: experienced!Sirius Black x virgin!Fem!reader

Warnings: language, smut, oral(f receiving), fingering, making out, color system, spit, cumming in pants, hair pulling, pet names, squirting, a smidge of overstimulation, being walked in on, etc.

Prompt: 17.) “Sit on my face”

A/N: reader and Sirius are in their 7th year and are aged to 18 but you can imagine them however you want. Title is inspired by the song Too Sweet by Hozier.

You were sure you hadn’t heard him right. Or he had to be joking. You were hanging out with Sirius in his empty dorm, the two of you had only been dating for a few months now, friends even longer than that. Sirius was your first boyfriend, he was practically your first everything. The only first he could never take was your first kiss which had been stolen by James Potter.

Earlier in the day the raven haired boy had invited you to his dorm when classes end, his roommates all busy in the afternoon. You expected your usual routine, listen to music, talk, smoke, make out.

Everything went as planned until the two of you were making out. You were laid on Sirius’ bed, him on top of you massaging your tongue with his. He pulled away from you suddenly, out of breath, “Sit on my face.”

“Pardon?” You were’t sure how to react.

“I said sit on my face. If you’re not ready yet that’s just fine, darling.” Sirius reassurance made you feel better and you would be lying if you said you weren’t soaked.

“Um, are you sure?” You had no idea why you were asking him if he was sure.

“Of course I am, darling, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” The pervert in you got wetter at his words.

You pulled the male forward into a searing kiss. Sirius took that as a yes and flipped you so that you were straddling him. You pulled away, unbuttoned your dress shirt and pulled off your tie. Sirius moved to kiss down your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” the compliment caught you off guard.

You shoved the boy’s face between your bra-clad tits. Sirius waisted no time with unclasping your bra so he could latch his mouth onto your chest without a barrier.

The minute Sirius got a view of your bare chest he was in awe. Sirius latched onto one nipple and started pinching and slapping at the other one.

“Mm! Too much!” The force he used was borderline painful. Sirius pulled back with an apologetic expression, “I’m sorry, love. You want to move on to the main course?” And just like that, his devilish smirk was back.

You stood up wordlessly and peeled off your plaid skirt and panties in a seductive manner. You gave Sirius a mini-show and when you turned to face him you could see he was incredibly hard.

You went to climb back on top of the boy but he stopped you. “First I need to hear you say you want this,” Sirius spoke.

“I want you, Sirius. I want to sit on your face.” You sounded desperate and you couldn’t care less.

“Are you familiar with the color system?” He was so sweet with the way he asked. You shook your head, unsure. “Green means we’re good to keep going, red means stop. Simple enough?” You nodded your head.

Sirius pulled you onto him and adjusted you to hover over his face. Your bare pussy was about an inch from his face, Sirius spat on your clit and circled it with his thumb.

“Fuck- Sirius,” you moaned out.

“You’re already soaked. Me kissing you got you that worked up?” He asked rhetorically.

You nodded your head, your eyes with shut tight and your bottom lip was between your teeth. You were shocked by how different Sirius’ fingers felt compared to yours, his were so much more rough and larger. Sirius slapped your ass and gave it a squeeze before he ducked his hand down to finger your pussy from behind.

Sirius inserted a finger into your tight hole, he worked his fingers to match the same pace as he rubbed your clit and thrusted his finger inside of you. After a few minutes like that Sirius inserted another finger inside of you, as well as replacing his left hand, which had been circling your clit, with his mouth.

Sirius pulled your weight down onto his face and started lapping at your cunt. Sirius pulled away for a second, “What color, Sweetheart?”

You responded quicker than you ever have in your life, “Green!” And then Sirius was back to work. You felt like he was making out with your pussy but you were in utter bliss. Your hands moved from the pillows to Sirius’ hair, you heard him groan in pleasure when you tugged on his black locks of hair. You did it again and ground into his face.

Sirius used his free left hand to grab your ass roughly. You were moaning pornographicly, you were sure the two of you were going to get in trouble. Sirius lapped at your folds, not a care in the world.

“Sh-shit! Just like that!” Sirius was alternating between sucking on your clit to lapping at your folds and clit. His fingers worked a fast, steady rhythm. He curled his index and middle fingers to hit that spot that made you see white.

Sirius groaned against your pussy and praised you, “Such a good girl f’me.”

You could feel yourself getting closer, you started practically riding Sirius’ face and fingers. At first Sirius paused to get a sight of such a beautiful scene but quickly kept going. He changed his fingers pace to meet yours and started devouring your pussy. Sirius was enjoying this as much as you, he had already came in his pants, he felt like he was in a fantasy right now.

As you practically rode Sirius you think about how lewd this entire thing is. The sound of him slurping on your juices and the clapping of your ass against his hand, the stench of sex, the sight of him under you, it was all so addicting. As you got closer to your high Sirius plunges a third finger inside of you and curls his fingers inside of you.

Immediately you squirt everywhere. On his face, shirt, hand, sheets and pillows, everywhere. And Sirius fucking loved it, he swore he could cum again if he hadn’t already. He withdrew his fingers and licked them clean when he was done he licked a stripe up your pussy causing you to squirm in overstimulation.

Sirius was in awe at the entire situation before him, he swore he had died and went to heaven. Sirius allowed you to pull yourself off of him and lay next to him. You tried to catch your breath, still in shock. You couldn’t help noticing the wet patch on Sirius’ pants but before you could call him out, the door opened.

In came, James, Remus, and Peter. The three boys stopped in their tracks jaw dropped, Remus simply shut the door and left you two alone. You simply looked at each other in shock, laying there.

“Uh oh.”

I hope you enjoy, 🪳 anon! Sorry this wasn’t longer. Not Proofread!

[yokohamapound]

If you have enough time, could you please write about Fyodor, Dazai, chuuya, and tecchou (You could add more if you want) reacting to their s/o pinching, squeezing, and kissing their both cheeks with a slight nibbling on them? If you don't mind, ty.

This request is so cute and sweet that Ranpo is going to try and steal it. For which I am also adding him to the headcanons~

Characters: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Suehiro Tetchou, Edogawa Ranpo

Contains: Smoochies

Fyodor Dostoevsky 

I imagine it takes a little while for you to gather the courage to do this. While Fyodor has a very pretty face, his aloof demeanour and sinister edge don’t encourage people to touch him casually. Obviously, as his partner you have much more freedom in this sense, but it was probably still a while before you reached out and pinched his cheek.

Fyodor’s surprise is fascinating to see. He lets out a small, throaty laugh, raising an eyebrow at you for your impulsive gesture. 

“What prompted that, may I ask?”

His amusement is only compounded when you follow your pinching up with kisses. He’ll allow you to get away with it for a moment or two before he takes your chin and asks if you’re so terribly in need of his attention. If you ask ever so sweetly, he might just give it to you. 

Dazai Osamu

No matter how gently you pinch his cheek, Dazai will overplay it. He’ll widen his eyes into big chocolate brown pools and pout, clutching his cheek (conveniently trapping your hand against the side of his face).

“You’re so cruel, bella!” he proclaims. 

He’ll require you to kiss it better, and will not stop at just one. It’ll take multiple kisses to stop “the pain”.

Despite all his whining, Dazai enjoys your soft, playful affection. Just be warned that he’ll repay you tenfold, and probably in public, too. He has no shame, (which is incredibly ironic when you consider the first line of No Longer Human). 

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya cleaves very tightly to his “tough guy” reputation. He’s slick, he’s cool, he’s a dangerous executive from the Port Mafia. He can’t be having you pinching his cheeks and cooing at him over how cute he is. Even if he is pretty cute. 

It’s a little bit hypocritical, since one of his favourite “cool guy” ways to greet you is to pinch your cheek and be like, “Hey, dollface.” 

If you do it, be prepared for him to sputter and turn his face away, his ears burning red and starting to blend in with his hair. 

“Tch, the hell was that for?!”

He’s a little mollified if you follow it up with a kiss, but only moderately. He frowns at you in that grumpy way of his and rolls his eyes. “Fine, you’re forgiven. Just don’t ever do that in front of the guys, you got it?”

Suehiro Tetchou

Tetchou’s face doesn’t show much reaction the first time you reach out and pinch his cheek, squishing the flesh of his face between your thumb and forefinger. His eyes slide toward you, but apart from a blink, he seems stoic.

“Are you testing the strength of my facial muscles?” he asks, quite serious. “I can make them stronger. I will.”

You have to explain to the dolt that it’s just an expression of affection. You’ve also developed a habit of kissing those three little markings under his left eye. He normally shuts that eye and lets you get away with it. 

Edogawa Ranpo 

I feel like this request was made for Ranpo. Amongst the right people, this young man inspires such a prodigious amount of cute aggression that you’re practically shaking with the need to pinch his cheeks. 

Depending on his mood and current snack level, Ranpo might placidly accept it as you tug on his cheek like it’s made of playdoh, or he might bat your hand away like a cat, or he might try to nip at your fingers. 

He might pout a little when you grab his face in your hands and start covering his cheeks in kisses, muttering that he is a grown man, you know. That said, he doesn’t mind being considered cute and adorable, so long as you recognise he’s the World’s Greatest Detective. 

“If I’m so cute, why aren’t you spoiling me more?”

[willowsnook]

hiii can you please serve a vodka,whiskey, tequila, and scotch with italian soda in either a cooper mug or wine glass ? ty <3

charles leclerc x reader

a little variation on the prompts bc i was struggling

18+

it's always been you you're mine, end of discussion let me take care of you just shut up and come here

“We’re definitely sad to see you go, y/n,” your boss said, a frown tugging at his face, “but we’re glad to have you for the final stretch of the season.”

You had just told him that, as Carlos’ lead strategist, you’d be following him to Williams next year. You’d worked with Carlos since your first day at Ferrari, and over time, you two had become incredibly close. When he started negotiating with Williams, he mentioned he’d feel more comfortable if you were by his side. They offered you a position, and after some thought and financial incentive, you accepted.

Ferrari had been home, but the idea of a fresh start was exciting—and part of the reason you were ready for a change was waiting just outside your boss’s office.

“You’re really leaving Ferrari?” a voice called as you walked out, Charles stepping in your path.

“Yes, next season,” you sighed, already bracing for a comment.

“So, you’re a traitor then.” He crossed his arms, his expression sharp.

“People switch teams all the time,” you countered.

“Yeah, but you have insider knowledge.”

“And you had insider knowledge from Sauber. No one’s accusing you of anything,” you snapped back, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you even care, Charles? Honestly, I’m thrilled I won’t have to deal with you.”

“Maybe Ferrari will finally give Lewis someone with a brain,” he shot back.

You flipped him off as you brushed past him, headed to your office. From day one, you and Charles had been at odds, no matter how much Carlos tried to smooth things over. He constantly undermined your decisions, making it clear he didn’t think you deserved your position.

When you stepped into your office, Carlos was waiting, lounging in the chair opposite your desk. He grinned as you entered.

“How’d it go?” he asked, though you could see the concern in his eyes.

“Fine. He didn’t say much.” You dropped into your seat, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for telling Charles, by the way.”

Carlos smirked. “What did he say?”

“The usual nonsense.”

“He was pretty upset when I told him,” Carlos said, watching you carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Because he likes you, cariño,” Carlos replied, exasperation evident in his voice.

You scoffed. “He hates me, and I hate him.”

Carlos just shook his head. “Two people that argue with the passion you guys have aren't just enemies. Trust me.”

Rolling your eyes again, you shooed him out of your office, focusing back on preparations for the next race.

Three weeks later

“I can’t believe you screwed me like that!” Charles’ voice rang out as he stormed into the garage, livid after the race.

“I’m sorry, since when was it part of the strategy to overtake there?” you snapped back, meeting his anger head-on. “We told you to wait for the next turn.”

“I had the opportunity!” he seethed.

“And look where that got you,” you shot back, throwing your arms up. “Into the wall!”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re sabotaging me to help Carlos. Just admit it.”

“Ferrari signs my checks, not Carlos,” you retorted, your voice edged with frustration.

He glared at you before muttering, “Please, you wouldn’t even be here if Carlos didn’t think you were so—”

“Charles!” Carlos’ voice broke through, but it was too late. Your hand slapped Charles across the face before you even registered the movement. His eyes went wide with shock, and you turned on your heel, storming out of the garage without looking back.

You left early, heading straight to the hotel, needing space to cool off. Carlos texted later, checking in and inviting you to dinner with him and Rebecca.

Reluctantly, you changed into a nicer outfit and met them downstairs.

“How are you, y/n?” Rebecca asked kindly, linking her arm with yours as you stepped into the Uber.

“It’s been a day,” you muttered.

“Charles feels terrible, you know,” Carlos chimed in from your other side.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure.”

Carlos pulled you to a stop, making you face him. “He does, seriously. We all get worked up after races, and what he said was out of line. But you know how it is.”

You just hummed in response, unwilling to dive back into the topic, and turned your attention to Rebecca. Dinner was lighthearted, and soon after, the three of you headed to a nearby bar with friends. A few drinks in, you spotted Charles watching you from across the room. The moment your eyes met, you turned away, avoiding him for the rest of the night.

But as the night wound down, you sensed him approaching, and when you turned, there he was—standing right behind you.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, his earlier anger replaced with something softer.

You sighed, giving in. He led you to a quieter corner, and even in your haze, you could feel the tension between you two.

“I crossed the line earlier,” he admitted, his gaze dropping. “You just—drive me insane.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” you replied with a bitter laugh.

“In a way, yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

You were tired of his words, tired of the tension. Without thinking, you grabbed his collar, pulling him down into a fierce kiss. He froze, stunned, but after a beat, his hands found your waist, pulling you closer.

“I like you better when you’re not talking,” you said as you pulled back, breathless. “I still hate you. But I'm drunk and want to forget this day.”

His eyes darkened as he nodded. Wordlessly, you led him out of the bar, ignoring Carlos’ knowing smirk as you ducked into a car with Charles at your side, his hand resting on your thigh, neither of you saying a word.

Opening the door to your hotel room, Charles tried to push you against the wall but you shoved him back.

"I'm in control," you said sternly and he held your gaze for a second before retreating to lay down on the bed. You watched as he pulled his shirt over his head and your eyes followed from his chest down to his abs in appreciation.

"See something you like mon cheri?" He asked smirking and you stalked over to him.

Straddling him, you met his lips in a heated kiss again, fingers tangled in his hair while he tugged at your dress to pull over your head. When it was off he immediately attached his lips to your chest, sucking harsh enough to leave a mark and causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. Feeling him harden underneath you, you ground your hips down onto him causing him to gasp.

His hands found the sides of your hips and started rocking you back and forth against him while you whimpered at the friction.

"That feel good huh," he rasped. "You need more?"

"Yes Charles please," you begged and he smirked at your neediness. He set you on your back and pulled down his jeans and boxers, letting his cock flip up against his abs.

He reached down to pull your thong off and rubbed his fingers up and down your wetness.

"So wet for someone you supposedly hate," he teased as you groaned against him. He brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. "Tastes even better than I imagined."

You started to say something but were cut off as he pushed into you, causing you to gasp. He moved slowly, whispering encouraging words in your ear as you adjusted to his size.

"Move Charles," you demanded once you were ready and he happily obliged, picking up a fast pace. You dug your nails into his back as he pounded into you, causing him to gasp out.

"I want on top," you breathed out and he pulled out, helping you up. Once he was settled, you sunk down on him slowly causing him to groan. You kept at a slow pace enjoying the tortured look on his face.

"Come on," he complained and you smirked.

"Beg."

He didn't say anything for a while, just staring into your eyes until you rolled your hips into his, causing him to whimper.

"Please y/n," he begged. "I need more mon cheri, please make me feel good. I need you."

Satisfied, you started moving faster and his head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closing. Your hand wrapped around his throat forcing him to look back at you.

"Eyes on me," you purred and he bit your lip. Grinding against him you could feel your climax coming and it was game over as his thumb found your clit. Your hips came to a stop as it washed over you and Charles dug his hands into your hips to take over the movement.

He was brutally fucking up into you chasing his own release as you squeezed tightly around him. At the last minute he flipped you back over to get a better angle and finally spilled into you.

The two of you just stared at each other in silence, breathing hard. You started to get up to move towards the bathroom but he stopped you.

"Let me take care of you," he said, scooping you up in his arms. He set you down in the shower, turned on the water, and slid in behind you. Washing your body slowly, you let yourself relax against him forgetting for just a second that this was your mortal enemy.

Turning the water off, you changed into pajamas and hesitated, seeing Charles in the bed under the covers.

"I don't know if you should spend the night," you said, and he gave you a pointed look.

"Just shut up and come here," he said and you gave in, climbing into bed next to him. He pulled you against him, letting your head rest against your chest.

"What are we doing?" You mumbled against him. "You don't even think I'm qualified enough to do my job and here I am letting you into my bed."

His fingers that were tracing circles on your back stilled.

"I don't think that," he said and you scoffed looking up at him.

"You basically say something along those lines every time we are together," you retorted and he looked away.

"It's just hard," he finally said.

"How is trying to be civil with me so difficult?"

"Because I'm jealous okay!" He exclaimed exasperated. "I love my strategists but they're all way older and have lives and other things going on. Carlos gets you and it's not fair. You guys hang out all the time and you actually want to spend time with him. It's been you that I've wanted this whole time."

Your mind was reeling at his confession and you sat up. He looked at you expectantly.

"So because you were jealous of me being Carlos' strategist, you decided the best course of action was to harass me?" You asked and he flinched at the coldness in your voice.

"In hindsight, it was a bad idea," he admitted. "I was just hoping you'd switch to another team but now that it's actually happening I freaked."

"You are truly unbelievable," you said, amazed at the audacity of this man. You laid back against your pillow and just stared at the ceiling.

"So what now?" Charles asked nervously.

"Dude, I don't even know," you said. "I hate you, but you hate me because you like me, and now I don't know what to think."

"I know," Charles said, his voice steady now. "But I don’t want to lose this... whatever it is between us. Can we at least try to figure it out? Maybe start over?"

You looked at him for a long moment, weighing his words, before finally nodding slightly. "Maybe," you said. "But this doesn’t just go away because you’ve admitted it. You hurt me, Charles."

He nodded solemnly. "I know. And I’ll make it right if you give me the chance. I want you to be mine."

You didn’t respond immediately, still processing everything. Eventually, you rolled onto your side, closing your eyes. "Let’s just get some sleep. We’ll figure out tomorrow when it comes."

Charles lay back down beside you, giving you space but still close enough to feel his presence.

[ghosted-draws]

Really liked that Alastor lost the fight in the finale, actually! A lot of people have been saying that they wished he went full power on Adam, but a theory i really enjoy is that he WAS, but he didn’t OUTPUT what he was expecting.

Alastor canonically rose to becoming an overlord INCREDIBLY quickly. a power no being in hell had ever seen before- I don’t think it’s an accident Lilith picked him, and i’m super curious what would have prompted him to EVER sell his soul as a DEAL DEMON. (And even if he didn’t sell his soul directly, making a deal that would restrict him so badly) Like he knows what that does he must have been DESPERATE. He says specifically both that his wings have been clipped, and also that once he figures his way OUT of his deal he will be pulling all the strings. I think his deal was something to do with his power, or whatever let him rise so quickly to overlord status. He’s not exactly used to being properly challenged.

So when his staff broke, it wasn’t even something he thought COULD happen. It’s not “Oh shit”, its “What just happened?” he holds it out in front of him like he expected it to withstand that attack. But he DOESN’T. It freaks him out so badly he drops everything but the smile for a second. You could say he miscalculated Adam’s power, which, sure, but Alastor is good at picking out weakness, i think he just assumed he could take him, or at least distract him for much longer- he doesn’t seem to have an angelic weapon with him so his job could have just been keeping him busy

when we see him in his studio he is downright hysterical. Because he DID almost die, FOR THIS DEAL. Whatever is tying him to the hotel, he let it almost KILL HIM. And the realization he is not as in control as he thought he was shakes him to his core- he goes back to the shattered radio tower just to feel like himself again, battered and bleeding.

TLDR: Alastor isn’t as in control as he thought he was, and i am very interested to know how he killed so many overlords so fast

[jessthebaker]

By the Gods

This is for the gorgeous @beefrobeefcal 's Half Bricked, Wrong Time February Prompt Challenge!

I've never written for Oberyn before, this is barely titled, no beta, minimal editing, I don't know if it's crack or serious or both, but I'm yeeting this out into the world and running away again. Enjoy!

word count 1.6k

rating: Mature (duh, it's Oberyn)

“Oh, Seven, not again.” Oberyn mutters as he opens his email and sees a message from HR waiting for him. It’s right at the very top, with the little red exclamation marks to denote High Importance. Oberyn hates those exclamation marks. They only seem to turn up when he’s done something that he deems (personally) perfectly appropriate. But HR never seems to think so.

The head of HR is a man Oberyn loathes but can’t seem to get away from. Oberyn doesn’t hate his job, rather he quite likes it. He likes what he does and he’s good at it. But dealing with HR is another story.

The HR manager, Ty Lane, is an older man with a bad case of resting grump face. He constantly looked as if, if he wore glasses, he’d be glaring at you over the top of them. Quietly, Oberyn thinks Ty looks like an angry, elderly lion.

Oberyn sighs as he skims over the details of Ty’s email. Date, time, place, all the usual. Current infraction: ‘Inappropriate workplace relations’. What else was new? Oberyn has a feeling he knows which particular circumstance this one was referencing.

Last week he had been daydreaming at his desk when he noticed you walking past his cubicle. Of course he noticed you. He found you incredibly attractive; the way you walked, the confidence with which you moved, the defiance in your eyes that said “I’m here and if you don’t like it, fuck off.” Oberyn appreciated confidence.

You were fairly new in the office. He hadn’t seen you around before about last month, yet you had already made a name for yourself though with the quality of the work you turned in. The management were impressed with your quiet efficiency and the way you didn’t overtly call attention to yourself. But somehow you demanded respect and by the gods, you got it.

On this particular occasion, he couldn’t take his eyes off your ass. You’d caught him staring, given him a wink and a little extra swish of your hips as you passed.

So how could anybody reasonably blame Oberyn for admiring such a perfect specimen of a human ass? Yours was perfect. He had to get a better look. You had practically told him to look.

And yet, apparently someone blamed him for looking. Because now he has that damned email from Ty Lane sitting in his inbox, waiting for that Read Receipt, confirming his appearance at the next mandatory workplace training.

He clicks Accept with another sigh. Then he gathers his thoughts for the rest of his workday.

At the appointed day and time, Oberyn finds himself sitting in a half-circle made of uncomfortably straight-backed chairs with a few other co-workers who, he supposed, had been dobbed in for similar infractions as he was. And...you. Why in the Mother’s name were YOU in here too? Oberyn’s mind wandered as he let himself imagine the myriad reasons you might have been called into this awful torture session.

Mr Lane was droning through his PowerPoint presentation detailing all those things you were and weren’t supposed to do in the workplace. And all the things you were and weren’t supposed to do with your coworkers. And...was that...was that? Celine Dion’s voice singing as background music?

Where does my heart beat now? Where is the sound That only echoes through the night?

Oberyn is trying to pay attention, he really is. His mind wanders again. To you. You’re just so...sexy. Confident. So perfect. So sultry as you just go about your day. The unwitting reason he’s in this room in the first place. He tries to keep his eyes to himself, but he can’t resist glancing over at you for a peek. Fuck. You’re openly watching him, not even trying to be subtle. You give Oberyn a wink and flick your eyes forward again. Pretending to pay attention to Ty’s boring slideshow.

Next time Oberyn looks over to you, he’s ready. You’re looking at him again and this time, he drops you a wink of his own. He sees your cheeks darken slightly and your eyes flash momentarily.

Where does my heart beat now? I can't live without, without feeling it inside I've need someone to give my heart to

Oberyn’s imagination strolls off again at what you might be thinking about. He only comes back to himself as he hears someone saying his name. Mr Lane. It sounds as if it’s not the first time he’s said it. Shit.

Oberyn senses a dreadful feeling of his pants growing tight. And he feels the unmistakeable tingling of his cock making itself known.

I feel it getting stronger and stronger and stronger, yeah And I feel inside Hearts are made to last till the end of time

His cock is definitely growing harder and he can feel it pulsing to the beat of Celine’s song. Shit.

Ty is speaking now. “Mr Martell, would you join us to role-play out the scenario we’ve been discussing. Please come up to the front. Your partner will be --” and he said the worst possible choice for partner: your name.

Oberyn’s brain stops briefly. His cock is at full mast and he knows it’ll be visible through the soft linen pants he prefers to wear. There’s no way he should be standing up right now, in front of a room full of people at a fucking sexual harassment meeting of all times. With YOU.

He puts on his most sincere face and attempts sanity. “Mr Lane, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ty’s eyes narrow. “Oberyn, you are here and participation is mandatory. Get up here.”

“Mr Lane….being reasonable, this isn’t something you really want me to do right now.”

“Martell. NOW.”

Oberyn sighs. “Alright. Just remember, this is what you wanted.”

He stands and walks to the space at the front of the room. Ty’s attention has turned to you now as you walk up to join Oberyn, so he misses seeing the obvious tent in Oberyn’s pants. As you and Oberyn reach the front together and turn to face your audience, a gasp breaks the silence and a few snorts erupt from those watching. Oberyn’s mouth half-lifts up in a smirk.

Ty is not having it.

“People, we are all adults and we are here for a reason. Settle down, please. You two,” He gestures to the two of you with an exasperated wave of his hand. “continue. Now.”

In the scenario you and Oberyn are attempting to recreate, one employee is making unwanted advances toward the co-worker. The other is supposed to be shutting it down and ending the interaction before reporting it to HR. Oberyn expected he would be taking the role of the unwanted aggressor, given his reputation, but you surprise him by immediately starting with that role. Forcing him to take the receiving role.

“Well, hell-oooo gorgeous, how have I never seen YOU around here before? Where have you been hiding this incredible body?” You step closer and riffle the collar of his shirt, which (as usual) was barely hanging on to his shoulders due to its missing top three buttons.

He’s stunned. He can’t tell if you’re just a very good actor, or if you’re being serious. He hopes it’s the latter. His cock desperately adds its vote for the latter too.

Ty is silently shooting daggers at Oberyn as he tries to catch up and deliver his expected lines. “uh, why, hello, I don’t really -”

You continue as if he hadn’t said a word, and take another step closer. “You know, it’s really a shame we don’t work in the same department. We could be spending a lot - more - time - together,” as your first two fingers walk down the front of his buttonband and pause just above his waistband.

Oberyn didn’t think it was possible but his cock is growing even harder. You’re up close in his space, he can smell the scent of your hair, and the gleam in your eyes is practically shouting at him to bed you. He’s so hard it aches. He can’t think straight. What have you done to him? He’s supposed to be the office rogue, but here you are practically fucking him with your eyes in front of a room full of people.

He takes a breath. Finds his control. Takes a step back and grasps your hand and gently moves it back down to your side.

He says the lines expected of him, “This is neither the time nor the place, and I’m afraid you are making me uncomfortable. Please stop.” His voice is serious, but his eyes are locked with yours in flirtatious challenge. His hand is still holding yours and he’s making no effort to let go now that the act is over.

You’ve both fallen silent, standing stock-still, your eyes are still locked onto each other. A frission passes between you and suddenly the tension ebbs as Ty’s voice floats out as if from a distance. “Finally, thank you. You may sit down now.”

You and Oberyn startle back to your senses with Ty’s voice. Your glance flickers down at Oberyn’s crotch and his cock jumps in response. Oberyn squeezes your hand with another smirk. You take the obvious invitation and practically drag Oberyn out the door by the hand. You’ve both bolted so quickly that the door slams and bangs back open, swaying with the breeze of your passing.

Ty stares after you, dumbfounded, while the remaining participants in the room are giggling and whispering amongst themselves.

Poor Mr Lane. He can’t decide whether to follow you both and start proceedings now, or let you get it out of your systems first. He shakes his head and shuffles his paperwork before sighing to himself, “fucking Martells.”

[rosenclaws]

for the injury prompts if you're still up for it: #15 with worst or og trilogy Logan (I love them both sm you decide 😅) ilysm super talented beautiful person on the internet ty for the Logan content keeping us fed 🫡

15 - "This is going to hurt, okay?"

warnings: injury, sad boy logan

a/n: I picked worst logan bc he’s my favorite <3

"You're a real fucking idiot you know that?!" Logan spits, his claws out and ready to slice right through Wade.

"Me?! You're the one who decided to get down and dirty right here peanut." Wade yells back. His hands on his hips as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Will the two of you shut the fuck up!" You snap. Your nails digging into Logan's hand as you try to focus on breathing.

See these two idiots were pissing each other off all day and it all culminated at dinner where a simple nice home cooked meal turned into a fist fight.

The two were going at it as only they could. Wounds healing fast as Logan drew his claws and Wade had his swords. It was how they showed each other love in their own weird fucked up way.

Unfortunately this time you were caught in the crossfire this time. Logan was aware of where you were the whole fight, his senses picking up on the third person in the back of his mind. But Wade, well he was so far deep in his hack and slashing that he threw baby knife right at Logan, only for it to miss and go right into your shoulder. Fucking idiot.

"I really am sorry I was totally aiming for the big guy." Wade does feel incredibly guilty but Logan wouldn't let him anywhere near you.

"Maybe if you drink my blood you'll heal too, like in those vampire novels you swear you don't read." He says a little too cheerfully.

"The what?" Logan asks, looking back at you.

"Nothing." You say too quickly, glaring daggers at Wade for exposing your guilty pleasures.

"Can one of you just get this stupid knife out of me?!" You lean back as Logan grips the handle.

"Go get some towels dick face." Logan growls.

"Yes sir." Wade scurries off to the bathroom while Logan turns his attention back to you.

"This is going to hurt, okay?" He says gently. He knows what it's like to be stabbed, he may be numb to the pain but you aren't.

"On three. One, Two-" He pulls the knife out of your shoulder before he finished counting making you gasp.

"Asshole!" You yell as Logan presses a towel onto your wound.

"Sorry, thought it'd be better as a surprise." He mumbles.

"It's not deep, we shouldn't have to go to the hospital." You sigh in relief, not wanting to explain this to a poor ER doctor.

Logan moves himself so he's sitting behind you, your back against this chest. He practically enveloped you in his strong arms.

Wade comes back with bandages and pain meds which you take happily. Logan’s hands work gently as he bandages and cleans your wound.

“What were you even fighting about anyways? I came home to both of you on edge.”

"It was nothing…He just wouldn’t stop poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Making his stupid fucking jokes." Logan rests his chin on the top of your head. The smell of your blood is strong and he hates it.

The truth is Wade was being nosy about the two of you. The whole, relationship stuff was new to Logan. It’s been a long time since he’s had anything but a meaningless hook up and if he was honest.

It’s a touchy subject and Wade implying he was too old, too broken for you really sent him over the edge. Especially because he was thinking that himself every day for the past month.

“You know you can’t let him in your head, he’s an idiot but he loves you too. Not as much as me but…” You tease, happy that it gets Logan to smile.

“Whatever he said, just know I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

“Now can you please order a pizza I’m fucking starving.”