#venom 3 interview

[tomhardymyking]

These specific moments from one of the 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 interviews have caught my attention, apart from 𝗧𝗼𝗺's handsomeness, because of what they say 💖:

𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 and 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 can travel through the multiverse (𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝑴𝒂𝒏 4, 𝑨𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔? 😮), 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 realises he loves 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 and cares about him, they will have their happy ending (at some point) 🙏🏻, and that 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 won't go back to his home planet because he's already home was 🥹

And can someone tell me what's so funny about 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 and 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲's ending and why 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 laughs so much? 😕...

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Estos momentos en concreto de una de las entrevistas de 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑬𝒍 Ú𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒐 𝑩𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆 me han llamado tanto la atención, aparte de por la belleza de 𝗧𝗼𝗺, por lo que cuentan 💖:

𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 y 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 pueden viajar por el multiverso (¿𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝑴𝒂𝒏 4, 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔? 😮), 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 se da cuenta de que ama a 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 y de que le importa, ellos tendrán su final feliz (en algún momento) 🙏🏻, y que 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 no volverá a su planeta natal porque él ya está en casa fue 🥹

Y, ¿alguien me puede decir dónde está la gracia del final de 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 y 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 y por qué se ríe tanto 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆? 😕...

⠀⠀

[vulpinesaint]

people may accuse me of being problematic for "romanticizing" or even "sexualizing" this. i am doing NEITHER of these things. what i am doing is a secret third thing. and it's worse <3

[brazilian-whalien52]

Would be batshit insane if venom and interview with the vampire were from the same universe and Eddie brock and Daniel Molloy were coworkers

[hollywoodoutbreak]

Although Venom: The Last Dance is Kelly Marcel's first film as a director, she's got an extensive portfolio of behind-the-scenes work, including having written all of the Venom films. In Tom Hardy's eyes, that made Marcel the perfect choice to make the third film in the Venom trilogy. Hardy about the film, in who is both the star, and an executive producer said that he's really proud of the job Marcel did in bringing her vision to the screen.

Venom: The Last Dance is now playing in theaters.

[moviehousenow]

Why Tom Hardy wants his Son to Watch VENOM 😂

[oikarma]

look me in the eye | pt.3

pairing: max verstappen x rbr!engineer!reader

summary: the rb21 is unfixable-the whole world knows that, now-but you've become so much more than just his engineer and they should know that too.

a/n: i just...max verstappen...and thank you guys sm for the love you've shown this series! here is the last part <3

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The moment you step out of the storage room-you figured that out when Max shoved you against a nice metal rack and some probably important things crashed to the ground-reality crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

You just kissed Max Verstappen.

Max Verstappen just kissed you.

You don't know how it can get worse, but it will. He looks completely at ease, like he didn't just change the trajectory of your entire life in the span of a few heated seconds. Meanwhile, you feel like you're about to combust. Your lips are still tingling, your mind racing, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the noise outside: the team is still celebrating, the media is still circling, and maybe you're being a little dramatic but people will want answers that you can't give.

Max notices your panic before you can even say anything. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Breathe."

You shoot him a glare that lacks any real venom. "Don't tell me what to do."

His lips twitch. "Then don't look like you’re about to pass out." Which is ironic, because if he hadn't kissed you senseless, you probably wouldn't look like...whatever you look like right now. You need a mirror. Your hair is all messed up from the frenzy-his is too, though it suits his post-race look-and you straighten the collar of your shirt.

Damn you. You shove past him, desperate for space, for air, for something that isn't Max Verstappen and his infuriating ability to act like everything is fine. Your body betrays you, though, because even as you move, you feel his warmth lingering, his presence like a gravitational pull you can’t escape.

And then, as if the universe is determined to make your life a nightmare, Christian Horner appears. The devil himself.

You barely manage to school your expression into something neutral as he approaches, eyes sharp, mouth set in a line that promises nothing good.

"Max." He nods at Red Bull's star driver before turning to you. "We need to talk."

Max doesn't move. "She's busy," he quips.

You whip your head toward him, eyes wide. "Max."

Christian doesn't look amused. "Now."

You sigh, throwing Max one last look before following Christian into one of the back offices. The second the door closes, he lets out a heavy breath and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to will away a migraine.

"You know why we're here."

You cross your arms, steeling yourself. "If this is about that stupid interview-"

"Stupid?" Christian cuts you off and his eyes narrow quickly. "Do you have any idea what you just walked into? The media is losing it. The fans are in a frenzy. And now I have PR breathing down my neck asking if Max Verstappen is in a relationship with one of his engineers."

This isn't good. No, not at all. Today is not a good day to have Christian Horner mad at you. "It's not-"

"It doesn't matter what it is," Christian interrupts. "Believe me. The only thing I care about is what it looks like."

You don't have an argument for that. Because he's right. Perception is everything in this sport, and right now, the perception is that you are tangled up in something that no team principal wants to deal with.

Christian sighs and it's like all his fury is evaporating. "Look. I really don't care what you do in your personal life. I don't even care what Max does, as long as he keeps winning. But I need to know if this is going to be a problem."

You hesitate. "Define 'a problem.'"

Christian levels you with a look. "Are you going to be a distraction? To him? To yourself?"

Your mind flashes back to the kiss, to the way Max looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. Your heart stutters.

"No," you say, more firmly than you feel. "This doesn't affect my work."

Christian watches you for a long moment, then nods. "Good. Then handle it."

You swallow. "Handle it?"

"Either shut it down or control the narrative," he says. "But I don't want any more surprises."

You nod, even though you don't know what exactly you're affirming with that nod. The problem is, you don't know if you can shut it down. You don't know if you even want to.

When you leave the office, Max is leaning against the wall, waiting. Of course he is.

He leaps up when he sees you. "What did he say?"

"That I need to handle it," you explain.

Max’s expression doesn’t change. "And are you going to?

"I don’t know."

There it is again. You can't read Max Verstappen. He asks, "Do you want me to?"

All your problems come from the same thing-you should say yes, no, whatever it takes to shut down all this that's happening. You should make him go on some press circuit and laugh it off as a misunderstanding, to make sure your name isn't attached to his ever again. You should be walking away from this mess because it's not part of your job description and getting involved with an athlete never seems to end well. Even if it's Max Verstappen.

But you don't.

You never do, it seems.

Instead, you look at him: the way his jaw is clenched, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but won't unless you let him, and you keep making the same choice.

"I think," you say carefully, "we should talk."

Max’s lips curve slightly. "Dinner?"

You groan, shoving his shoulder. "Not helping."

His laugh is soft, but there's something else in his eyes now. Something serious. "Then let’s talk."

It's been a long time coming, but right there, you realize you're past the point of no return.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The ride back to the hotel is suffocating. Not the air-no, the air-conditioning in Max's car is great, thankfully, because it sure cost a lot-but because Max is sitting next to you, silent, his fingers drumming against his thigh so close to you if he shifts just a little his hands will be on yours. You push that thought aside. Now's not a good time to get worked up over him. Not now.

You should say something. You should clear the air. But every time you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Instead, you replay everything in your head: the kiss, the way he looked at you after, Christian's warning, and the way Max had asked if you wanted him to handle it. Like it was his responsibility. Like he was willing to do whatever you asked, even if it meant pretending none of this ever happened.

The thought unsettles you more than it should.

"You're thinking too much."

You blink, snapping out of your spiral. Max is watching you instead of the road. Stupid, stupid.

You roll your eyes. "And you’re not thinking at all."

He smirks, eyes darting back forward for a moment before they rest on your face. "That’s not true. I'm thinking about dinner."

"Max, this isn't a joke." You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to face him.

"I know." He's suddenly serious, his voice quieter. "That's why we should talk. Properly. Without Christian breathing down your neck."

You hesitate. You know he's right. You can't keep avoiding this, can't pretend that what happened in the storage room didn't just flip your world upside down. But you also don't know how to have this conversation without risking everything.

Max waits patiently, letting you come to your own conclusion. He always does that. He gives you space, but never too much. Always just enough to make sure you don’t run.

"Fine," you mutter. "But not dinner. We saw how that went."

He raises a brow. "Drinks?"

"No."

"A walk, then."

You sigh, but you don't argue. You suppose a walk is neutral territory. You can talk without the pressure of sitting across from him at a table, without the weight of eye contact that lasts too long.

When you arrive at the hotel, you don't give yourself time to hesitate. You step out, waiting for him, and he follows without question after tossing his keys at the valet. There's a cool breeze, and you focus on that instead of the way your fingers still tingle from where they brushed against Max's earlier.

You walk side by side, the silence stretching, but it isn't uncomfortable. It never is. That’s part of the problem, isn't it? It's always been too easy with him.

"I meant what I said," Max finally says. "I don't want this to be a problem for you."

"It's not that simple, Max."

"It could be."

You huff out a short laugh. "For you, maybe."

He stops walking, and you do too, turning to face him. There's something in his expression that makes your breath catch.

"I like you," he says, and your heart stutters. "And I think you like me too."

You swallow hard. "Max-"

"I know it's complicated. I know Christian is watching us like a hawk. I know you're worried about your job, your reputation." His voice is steady, unwavering. "But I'm not going to pretend this isn't happening just because it's inconvenient."

Your mouth feels dry. It does sound simple when he's saying it.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me this is nothing, and I'll walk away."

You hate him for that. Hate him for putting the choice in your hands, for making you responsible for whatever happens next.

But you don't tell him to stop. You don't say anything at all. You look at him clearly: this man you've watched grow up from a boy. You've seen him destroy things in fits of rage after bad races, you've seen him beam like the sun, and you've seen the way his eyes turn stormy oceans when they look at you. He sees you too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

bahrain 2025 post-race interview

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

y/n 🌎 gee, max, you're going to get to my ego

y/n 🌎 first "my everything," then "the constant"

y/n 🌎 and what's that about always? i don't believe that.

my mashed potato Are you referring to us or you being the constant? Because I don't believe in that either, but you have me as long as you want

y/n 🌎 are you SERIOUSLY CHECKING YOUR PHONE DURING AN INTERVIEW

y/n 🌎 sorry for all caps i just like it a lot when you get all romantic

my mashed potato i know ❤️

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: max verstappen and 3-post series are very special to me

[fandom]

Ships

Week Ending October 28th, 2024

Bucktommy +19 Evan Buckley & Tommy Kinard, 9-1-1

Billford Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Gravity Falls

Phan -2 Daniel Howell & Phil Lester, YouTubers

Buddie +7 Evan Buckley & Edmundo Diaz, 9-1-1

Agathario -1 Agatha Harkness & Rio Vidal, Agatha All Along

Poolverine -3 Wade Wilson & Logan Howlett, the Marvel universe

Megop +2 Megatron & Optimus Prime, Transformers

Lestappen Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen, Formula 1 drivers

Satosugu -2 Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru, Jujutsu Kaisen

Fiddauthor -4 Fiddleford McGucket & Stanford Pines, Gravity Falls

Ineffable Husbands +1 Aziraphale & Crowley, Good Omens

Narilamb Narinder & the Lamb, Cult of the Lamb

Zosan -5 Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji, One Piece

Farcille +4 Falin Touden & Marcille Donato, Dungeon Meshi

Ivantill Ivan & Till, Alien Stage

Symbrock Venom (symbiote) & Eddie Brock, the Marvel universe

Loustat -3 Louis de Pointe du Lac & Lestat de Lioncourt, Interview with the Vampire

Destiel -13 Dean Winchester & Castiel, Supernatural

Radioapple Lucifer Morningstar & Alastor, Hazbin Hotel

Bakudeku -5 Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Boku no Hero Academia

The number in italics indicates how many spots a ship moved up or down from the previous week. Bolded ships weren’t on the list last week.

[cutiepieloves131]

Rohini & Ashlesha ruling over, "The Siren Archetype"

Siren means a seductively beautiful or irresistible woman, especially one who beguiles men with a alluring voice but is also very dangerous.

I observed for the past few months of female celebrities who are considered to be "Sirens" and the two nakshatras that arose the highest in a lot of these women big 3, big 6, atmakaraka, lagnesh, or ascendant lord were Rohini and Ashlesha! In my opinion it 100% makes sense because Rohini and Ashlesha are known to be the most seductive nakshatras.

Rohini is naturally a seductive and alluring nakshatra, they have a huge amount of magnetism and irresistibility. Many perceive them to be docile and innocent which is a little true but at the same time Rohini individuals have a beguiling dark side and it's shown through fashion, makeup, and mannerisms. Their hypnotic snake-like eyes and allure will lure you in like a moth to a flame.

Ashlesha possess an tantalizing and enticing quality that's hard resist with a lot of people deeming them as incredibly sexy beauties. Their aura and the way they talk is very tempting almost attracting everyone towards them in just one minute. They already are rule the dark feminine aesthetic and the Siren eyed look, the gaze is hypnotizing and captivating. Ashlesha women are extremely powerful seductress.

Another thing that Rohini and Ashlesha have in common is the power attraction able to pull masses with ease due to their enthralling and entrancing talents and they're both connected to snakes which grants them seduction and hypnotism, but also snakes has connections to water too some snakes know how to swim and those that are born with snake yoni nakshatras can be excellent swimmers and sensual dancers. Snake nakshatras make great singers, they have breathy, sultry, and trance-inducing vocals. Both of these nakshatras tend to attract people that want to abuse, and take advantage of them because of their beauty, charm, and seductiveness. It's similar to a snake it'll be minding its own business just passing through and then all of a sudden humans or animals will catch hold of the its presence admiring it or immediately freaking out wanting to attack it, this is why snakes are constantly on defense mode from things and people that'll want to harm them much similar to Siren and her singing. Thanks to the venom that snakes maintain that is too used to protect themselves as well.

Marilyn Monroe 🖤 Rohini Sun & Mercury, Ashlesha Ascendant

Marilyn was known to be one of the most popular and beloved sex symbol in her prime and still is after her death. She's also referred to being the most iconic Siren, Marilyn had a magnetic charisma about her that many viewers, and fans, loved about her. She was enormously irresistible to masses with her beautiful appearance, blonde hair, red lips, and hourglass figure was a big part of her allure. Why do you think those who use the 'Marilyn Monroe Effect' to exude confidence, sensuality, and timeless beauty that she personified. Marilyn Monroe was a force to be wrecked with and still is!

Salma Hayek 🖤 Ashlesha Venus Atmakaraka

The seductive Salma Hayek, forever an enchantress has remained a beacon of raw sensuality and untamed beauty for many decades, with her dark eyes, thick raven tresses, and hourglass figure. Her spellbinding allure is undoubtedly unmatched, in 1996's Dusk Till Dawn most iconic scene Salma gained massive attention worldwide for her exotic and complling snake dance in the movie, you'll think she was a siren out of water performing that dance.

Angelina Jolie 🖤 Rohini Sun

Halting as the world's most beautiful woman to ever hit this world is also a famous Siren which you can see through her movies, interviews, and photos. Angelina has this siren-like and hypnotic gaze able to captivate those that look into her eyes, her entire existence is the reason why she subconsciously causes extreme reactions within the public. Angelina has a erotic and tempting quality to her that's a big factor to her appeal, beauty, and aura she's everybody's girl crush of the century. Angelina Jolie will forever be that girl!

Alexa Demie 🖤 Ashlesha Jupiter & Ascendant

Alexa known to play Maddy Perez in Euphoria, because of her role in Euphoria she gained a mass following on social media. Alexa is also a private person barely revealing things about herself and personal life which led to people being intrigued by her, she has a enigmatic and mystifying trait about her that no one can explain not even me. Alexa doesn't have to try anything to grab anyone's attention her ravishing beauty and the way she carries herself quickly captures onlookers eyes, to me Alexa Demie embodies the true traits of a Siren.

Adriana Lima 🖤 Ascendant Lord Mars in Rohini

Adriana is one of the most famous and successful models to ever walk multiple runways, in 2012 she's even been viewed by more than 100 million people from her appearing in two Super Bowl ads in one game! Ever since then Adriana still remained one of the most popular Victoria's Secret models, in 2012 Adriana is ranked 4th on the list of top-earning models with an estimated annual salary of $7.3 million and in 2021 she ranked 2nd with an estimated salary of $30 million. Adriana is noted for her magnetic presence and remaining agelessly alluring, she's effortlessly oozing charm and confidence through her walks, becoming a known figure of beauty and in the modeling world.

Ailyn 🖤 Rohini Sun & Mercury, Possible Ashlesha Moon

Before I finish up this post I'd like to add Ailyn here, she was a former singer in the Norwegian metal band called, "Sirenia" and when she was still in the group they had a album named, "Perils of the Deep Blue" that came out in 2013 with the cover image of Siren. All of the songs in the album is dedicated to Siren, Ailyn's singing and essence alone is reminding me of a Siren.

More Siren Examples

Brigitte Bardot [Rohini Moon and Ashlesha Mars], Bella Hadid [Ashlesha Mars Atmakaraka], Michelle Pfeiffer [Rohini Ascendant], Halle Berry [Ashlesha Sun], Emily Ratajkowski [Rohini Sun], Mila Kunis [Ashlesha Sun], Madison Beer [Rohini Ascendant], Monica Bellucci [Ashlesha Venus], Hwasa [Rohini Moon], Mae West [Ashlesha Mercury], Gabbriette Betchel [Rohini Moon], Elizabeth Taylor [Ashlesha Jupiter], Uma Thurman [Rohini Mars], Jennifer Lawrence [Ashlesha Sun], Olivia Wilde [Rohini Moon], Charlize Theron [Ashlesha Sun, Moon, & Mercury]

[firstkanaphans]

P’Jojo sat down for a very detailed interview with a Brazilian podcast called Venom Sisters BL. I have summarized some of the highlights below.

The Heart Killers

This story was originally presented to GMMTV 2-3 years ago but was more dramatic than comedic. At that time, Kant was a police officer rather than a tattoo artist.

THK was meant to be announced in GMMTV Part 1 but the decision was made to postpone it after a mass shooting in Thailand. They didn’t think it would be appropriate to release as scheduled as the show deals with hitmen

Khaotung told Jojo that Bison was a more difficult character to portray than Ray because he had to find a balance between the dramatic and the comedic aspects of the character. Apparently, melding genres is not common in Thai media so it was an adjustment

“In my series, the characters already know they are gay, so a little touchy-touchy in the sauna room is normal.”

He purposefully made sure to include kisses in every episode and has been surprised by people claiming THK has a lot of NC scenes. He thinks some viewers see any kissing scene as an NC scene but he does not. He sees kissing as normal. That is how his characters express love for each other.

The scene he had the most fun filming was the BDSM scene. He was concerned it might be too intense for the actors but First and Khaotung had a great time

Other

Jojo was asked to start Only Friends 2 immediately after finishing Only Friends but he wanted to film something a bit lighter first

Of the three series he is directing next year, That Summer will film first with A Dog and a Plane to follow around the middle of the year

He refers to A Dog and a Plane as “my baby” and says he originally pitched the idea 2-3 years ago but they were waiting for the right cast

He will never again direct a series where the characters are high school age. “I’m too old for that.”

[cupidsworstcrime]

au inspo - possible fic ideas under the cut but send asks w/ ideas

Northpoint Vice hockey team got sponsored by Velvet Vice Gentleman's Club and had to pick dancer names for their jerseys:

1. Johnny – “Bambi”

2. Simon – “Velvet”

3. Kyle – “Prince”

4. Roach – “Peach”

5. König – “Candy”

6. Graves – “Roxxxie”

7. Alejandro – “Strawberry”

8. Rudy – “Luna”

9. Horangi – “Venom”

10. Nikto – “Bliss”

Bonus: The Coaches' Reactions

Laswell: “If any of you show up to a charity event wearing these, I’m disowning you.” Reluctantly wears a coach jersey with "Violet."

Price: Refused to wear a dancer's name, but eventually got assigned “Daddy.” Didn’t change it.

("teams have more members" suspend your disbelief for me here)

possible fic prompts

Johnny x f!reader

You’re the team’s new physical therapist—young, professional, and not at all impressed by Johnny’s charm. But when a knee injury sidelines him, he’s forced to rely on you during recovery. As weeks go by, your relationship shifts from irritation to reluctant trust to something much softer… and much more dangerous to both your careers.

Simon x m!reader

You’re the team’s media coordinator, and no one is harder to wrangle for interviews than Simon. You’re persistent, he’s avoidant—until a quiet night in an empty stadium leads to an unplanned conversation about loss, reputation, and the masks men wear. The walls don’t fall easily, but maybe they don’t need to crash all at once.

Kyle x f!reader

You’re the team’s new PR crisis manager, brought in after one of Simon's sarcastic comments goes viral. He’s prickly at first—joking, defensive—but behind the scenes, he’s the only one who notices when you’re unraveling under pressure. What starts as late-night hotel hallway chats turns into something quieter, closer.

Roach x f!reader

You run a local diner the team frequents after games. Roach always lingers a little longer, helps you wipe down the counters, asks about your day. When the city’s budget threatens to shut your business down, he rallies the team behind your back to help save it—but you're not sure how to feel when you find out.

König x m!reader

You’re the new assistant coach, and König is the one player you can't figure out. He’s huge, quiet, and defensive—until he sees you break down after a press conference goes sideways. What starts as mutual silence becomes late-night conversations in the locker room… and growing feelings neither of you want to name.

Graves x f!reader

You’re the head bartender at Velvet Vice, the strip club sponsoring the team. You’ve known Graves for years—before the team, before the public image—and now you’re watching him spiral under the pressure to perform. You’ve always said you wouldn’t fall for a man like him. But he keeps calling, keeps showing up, keeps trying.

Nikto x m!reader

You’re an old friend from his past—before hockey, before the fame. You show up to a game uninvited, not knowing if he'll even remember you. But he does. And the long, silent walks you used to take together start happening again… only now, the tension between you is very different.

Alejandro x f!reader

You’re a local journalist who’s made it her mission to expose the darker side of pro sports. Alejandro challenges you, flirts with you, dares you to see the good in the team. You want to resist him—until he shows you the charity work he does behind the scenes, and the lonely man hiding beneath the swagger.

Rudy x m!reader

You’re a local artist hired to repaint the arena murals. Rudy is the only player who stays after practice just to talk to you—about music, about the moon, about loneliness. You start leaving sketches for him to find. He starts leaving notes in return. And then one night, he leaves a ticket with your name on it.

Horangi x f!reader

You’re a single mom whose son idolizes Horangi. After a PR event, he starts showing up to your son’s games, teaching him tricks, being there. You’re wary—used to unreliable men and broken promises—but Horangi’s loyalty is fierce, and he seems determined to prove that he doesn’t just want your son’s admiration… he wants your trust.

Price x f!reader

You’re a sports psychologist brought in after a violent outburst during a game. Price is wary of you, but slowly lets you in. As you dig into the team's emotional issues, you uncover his own guilt and burnout from trying to keep everyone together. What he doesn’t know is that you’re falling for him—and that you’re not sure it’s ethical to stay.

x stripper!reader vers

Johnny x f!reader

You dance under the name Pixie, and Johnny flirts with you relentlessly after every sponsored event at Velvet Vice. But behind the teasing, you see something familiar—someone performing a persona to survive. When he asks you to teach him how to move for a charity number, it becomes something neither of you expected: vulnerable. And intimate.

Simon x m!reader

You’re the other Velvet, a sensual, elusive performer who doesn’t talk to clients. But Ghost sees you after a game, and for some reason—you talk to him. What starts as wary, wordless companionship grows into private conversations and soft touches shared backstage. He doesn’t care about your job. He cares that you remember how he takes his tea.

Kyle x f!reader

You’re Nova, a dancer known for your poise and elegance—until someone cuts your music mid-performance as a "joke." You hold it together, but Gaz sees the shake in your hands after. He doesn’t say much, just offers his jacket and stays with you in the dressing room until you can breathe again.

Roach x f!reader

You’re Dahlia, the bubbly star of the Vice stage and the only dancer who actually finds Roach’s nickname cute. He’s shy with you at first, until you catch him patching up your broken heel without saying a word. You offer to teach him a routine as a joke. He says yes. That’s how the late-night sessions begin—and the secrets start slipping out.

König x m!reader

Your stage name is Mercy, and you’re used to people being intimidated by your act—except König. He comes to the Vice alone after away games, always sitting quietly in the corner, never staring. One night, you leave him a drink. A week later, he walks you home. Neither of you say much. But you keep finding reasons to meet in the silence.

Graves x f!reader

You’re Candy, the headliner Graves swears he “only respects professionally.” He doesn’t want to fall for you—you're everything he can’t control. But when your apartment gets broken into, and he’s the one you call, things spiral. He wants to protect you. You want your freedom. And neither of you know how to stop wanting each other.

Nikto x m!reader

You’re Silk, the Vice’s most enigmatic dancer—no one’s allowed to touch you, and no one knows your real name. Except Nikto. He saw you once, recognized you from years ago, and now sits in the front row every week like he’s waiting for you to break the spell. The worst part? You’re tempted to let him.

Alejandro x f!reader

You’re Baby, the crowd-pleaser with a sharp tongue and sharper stilettos. Alejandro’s first impression of you is all sass and glitter, until he sees you bruised in the dressing room after a drunk fan crossed a line. He goes too far defending you—but now you’re both in trouble, and bound together by consequences neither of you regret.

Rudy x m!reader

You’re Swan, a dancer known for grace and tragedy in equal measure. Rudy starts walking you to your car after work without being asked. You start saving him the last cigarette in your pack. You don’t think he sees you clearly—until he sketches you mid-performance. And it’s not your body he captured. It’s your loneliness.

Horangi x f!reader

You’re Lily, feral and unashamed on stage—but off it, you keep your distance. Horangi becomes obsessed with your duality. He starts paying for private dances, not for the show, but to talk. You think he’s mocking you at first. Then he tells you he grew up with women like you—survivors. You haven’t stopped thinking about him since.

Price x f!reader

You’re Sable, the oldest dancer at the Vice and the unofficial den mother. You’ve seen men like Price before—rigid, composed, breaking slowly under pressure. When he finally lets loose during a drunken post-game visit, you pull him into a back room and call him John. It’s the first time anyone has in months. He doesn’t ask you to stop.

[tomhardymyking]

Well, in the end, it turns out that it was 𝗧𝗼𝗺 and the inspiration given by watching 𝑬.𝑻. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂-𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒍 that 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 and 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 ended up like they did at the end of 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 🤔

How about that 😅?

Well, apart from all this, the film has already grossed $406M and is No. 1 in cinemas worldwide for the third week in a row, let's go 🥳!!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Pues al final resulta que fue 𝗧𝗼𝗺 y la inspiración dada por ver 𝑬.𝑻. 𝑬𝒍 𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆 que 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 y 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 terminaran como terminaron al final de 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑬𝒍 Ú𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒐 𝑩𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆 🤔

¿Cómo te quedas 😅?

Bueno, aparte de todo esto, ¡la película ha recaudado ya 406M de dólares y es por tercera semana consecutiva la Nº1 en cines de todo el mundo, ¡¡¡vamos 🥳!!!

⠀⠀

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

There are twice as many stars as usual - minotaur! Daniel Ricciardo x reader

cw: daniel actually cursing the second seat, body transformation verging on body horror, monster fucking, primal play (chasing reader through the woods), dubcon, dark! Danny, author read greek mythology in her formative years instead of talking to boys, so now we have this

It's September in Singapore, the night after the Grand Prix, and Daniel Ricciardo can't sleep. He lost his race seat. He heard the venomous words from Helmut on Friday. But he held on. He knew he could get the tractor out to Q3, he had the ability, the experience. Just not the pace. The old engine was holding him back, and that P18 was the final nail in the coffin of his career. He still tries, might as well go out in a blaze of glory. He manages the fastest lap, soft tires sparking up against the streets. Daniel brings her home to the garage and sits. He just waits. He's like a petulant child, hiding out in a bathroom, not wanting to face the world. Not wanting to let go of the comfort of the cockpit. Not wanting to face everyone like this. But it's hot, and he's not about to be a frog boiling itself alive. He still had a job to do. He gets out and gives his interview, misty eyed, and broken. His signature smile gone. The mention of Austin doesn't help.

Everyone knows why he stays in the paddock. Lando comes by, and Danny also swears the Netflix people are still lurking in the shadows for him. They should unionize, he thinks, along with the photographer that's waiting for a last shot. Daniel gives it to him. And goes back to his hotel.

Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the sheer nausea from the track. The shock of an icebath after it. Maybe it's months of unprocessed feelings and the week from hell recently in the media. But no matter how hard Daniel tries, he can not sleep. So he sets out with a plan. And thankfully the expensive hotel they are staying in has a receptionist 24/7. One that laughs at his face when he asks for the best place to find a witch.

"Sir, pardon me, but this isn't the White Lotus. I'm not some plot device that will magically bring you everything you need cause you're staying with us. I can help with a faulty AC, a light bulb that doesn't go out, sure. But I can not find you a tarrot reader at 3 in the morning." They say. Daniel sighs and opens his banking app. He hates using his status and money for things. He had a nice personality and good looks he'd rather utilise. He tilts the screen and asks

"How much?" Within an hour, a taxi stops in front of the hotel, and an old woman is knocking on Daniel's hotel room door.

"You must be pretty desperate to seek me out, young man. What is so pressing that you couldn't wait any longer?" She asks, clearly skeptical of him.

"I want to place a curse. And reinforce one I made years ago." He says, dead serious. Daniel explains the infamous second seat at Redbull curse he had actually asked for. How he had the terrible, winless seasons in Renault to repent for it. The worst luck from his stint in McLaren was due to the fact he was wishing evil on Pierre and Alex. It lessened when he had no seat or when he was a reserve. After all, as long as the "energy drink team" had him, there was no need to be despising them. Now Checo was collateral damage. Whatever podiums he'd had in 2023 would be his last. Daniel felt a bit conflicted about that, he and the Mexican driver did have a good time once. He breaks it down, as cohesively as possible. Describes exactly what he knows about the woman from Etsy he hired then. The witch listens intently to what he wants now. The second VCARB seat, too. Daniel Ricciardo could be a petty motherfucker when he wanted to. And Liam Lawson was going to feel that.

"Look, I am capable of it. But it comes with a price. I see your pain, your anger, your resentment. They are built up inside of you. That reserve is not endless. So when you no longer feel them, you will have to change. Shed your old skin and give in to what you want. If you do this, you might become nothing but a raging bull. Is it worth it?" She asks.

"Yes." He says without hesitation. The world of racing wouldn't be the same without him. But he knows that he also wouldn't be the same without racing. Not without a fight, right? Well, this was his fight.

Daniel lets the woman take a lock of his hair. He covers the smoke detector in the room with a trash bag so she can light her candles. Closes his eyes when instructed to. A magician never revealed secrets, huh?

It works, Daniel thinks, watching the rest of the season. Liam fights with Alonso of all people. As if Fernando was going to let a rookie make a fool out of him. The Alpine double podium in Brazil puts the French team up in the constructors and bumps the VCARB down. Meanwhile, Daniel is thriving. Enchanté is selling like hotcakes. He's still got the wines, the Thorne ads. He's dubbed a WAG of Josh and Scotty, he's traveling. He even attends some Redbull things. God ,does he like the bikes better. Maybe he should listen to those fans and stay in motorsport but on two wheelers. He had the ass for MotoGP, that's for sure. Of course, he has to lose something, too. That's how curses work.

The media is still vicious on him. The commentators, the articles, they help feed the datkness sometimes. But honestly, he is less petty than he was years ago. Repeated loss taught him to forgive. There was no use dwelling on the past. He was focused on the present, the future. Unfortunately, that's not how curses worked. It started with the announcement. Liam was moved to Redbull. Now, it was almost solely focused on him. He carried two curses. Which meant the universe had to take double from Daniel. Equivalent exchange and all of that. There was the reel fiasco. Who knew Enchanté would invite a comedian who was also a horrible person. The digital footprint of that wasn't great. Then, the underwhelming collection, where people criticized him for having higher prices and less inclusive sizing. But, as the season started, and he got to Australia, it had stopped. Maybe it was Daniel congratulating the New Zealander for the promotion. Maybe it was the combined bad luck of hometown heroes Doohan and Piastri. Maybe it simply had an expiration date he wasn't aware of? Either way, he had sold out his new drop. What was meant to be a homecoming in Australia for the new season.

Danny reflects on Saturday evening when he gets the message that it's all sold out. He won. Then Sunday, Isack's crash on the formation lap, Liam and Yuki's performance out of the points. It was taunting him. A hat trick of bad luck was coming his way. And he was none the wiser.

Daniel was getting hairier. He'd always been blessed with good genes, his dad's Italian heritage. The thick curls, the bushy eyebrows. But now it was a lot. His beard was out of control, and no amount of shaving cream could let a razor pass through it. He could only attempt to style it, the silver clippers burning slightly, but doing the job. His happy trail was more like a scarry dark road now, not to mention his bush. Danny had to put 4 pimple patches on his ingrown hairs, wincing as he pulled out the curly strands with tweezers. It was almost like he was growing fur, the hair was forming a peach fuzz on him everywhere. It got worse as the season went on. When Max started getting penalties out of nowhere, Danny sighed. But the sound that came out was inhuman, almost like a cow's moo, that terrifying throaty sound. It spooked Heidi so much that she got mad at him for pulling a prank on her. She kept telling him that she knew he played the sound on his phone, an app of some sort. But his trusty iPhone was charging upstairs, and he was as confused as her. Danny guessed it was just something going down the wrong pipe, an accident. But it kept happening, again and again. Sighs, snores, even words turned into that horrifying sound. The Grand Prix weekend ends. Daniel turns to speak to Heidi, but he can't. It's all a demented moo. He pleads for her to listen, to help. She calls an ambulance and tells the paramedics something about a "psychotic break." or an episode of some disorder. They shove the world's thickest needle in Danny's ass. He's out like a light, and when he comes to, it's Monday night. They keep him for tests, just a few days. There's apparently nothing wrong with him. He comes back home, and there's left of Heidi is a note saying she's sorry. That's strike one.

He packs up his stuff too. There's no use. He had moved out of Monaco. He could move out of this one too. Go back to his childhood home, spend some time with his parents. He could run things from there too, couldn't he? Visit some local someliers, work on what's next. Plus the extra money from selling this place would be good. Of course he manages to wrap it up in 4 days, get an initial meeting with his realtor on Monday. Daniel knows he shouldn't tune into the GP. Suzuka is a good track, though. He rations that if the race is boring, he'll just doze off, the sound of the engines putting him to sleep. Right? He watches the whole thing, ears perked up. Yuki, in his home race, first in the Redbull team, isn't doing too hot. And Daniel feels bad for him. Maybe it's camaraderie, for the almost 2 years they had in formerly Alpha Tauri. Maybe it's guilt, because all of the bad luck was only meant for Liam. Not for everyone. But there is no malice in Daniel anymore. He can't really sleep that night, there's a splitting headache that's troubling him. He googles it all - stroke, brain tumors, aneurysms, the lot. But nothing feels like the constant pain he's having at the sides of his skill. It's almost like when he had his wisdom teeth coming in sideways. There was something trying to grow, to pierce through when it couldn't and it was driving him insane. He took advill and paracetamol or ibuprofen, something to ease it. He was skirting on the amount, almost on the verge of actually taking too much when he managed to fall asleep.

Daniel was late. Badly, horrendously late. At the last minute he stormed in the realtor's office, still in the tanktop he had slept in. Curls messy, face red from the pillow, head still throbbing. He didn't stop when the receptionist screamed (she was new, he noted, must be a fan). He sat down and saw the realtor's face turn fifty shades of red. Daniel was dragged out with a "Why you?" and a "Am I some sort of twisted joke to you." and something about hornbearing. The former athlete looks in the mirror in his car and almost thinks he's still dreaming. There are two big straight bull horns coming out of his head. Actual horns, made out of god knows what. Danny googles hornbearer and in some languages it's slang for being cheated on. He remembers his realtors messy divorce. The wife running away with the best friend, the whole affair lasting for years. The fact that Danny shares a first name with his realtor. Daniel is a hornbearer, Ricciardo wants to remind him of that. The complexity of that sentence worsens his headache. He goes to buy a ridiculous fedora. By the time he's home and trying to call someone else, the rumor that he's a horrible client spreads like a wildfire. The house doesn't sell. But right before the next free practice on Friday, the horns are gone. Which is good, because Danny can't really justify them to passport control. That's strike two.

Australian soil seems to do him well. For now. Maybe it's because he doesn't watch the race. Maybe it's the huge time difference. Maybe it's just a bit of luck. But for a few days, nothing bad happened to Daniel Ricciardo.

It's actually just a fluke. Just like the mini break between China and Suzuka, that seemed shorter to everyone. But the third strike and the bad luck from Bahrain 2025 was going to catch up to Danny. No matter how fast he ran from it.

Farm life was his thing. Before, he couldn't even get that close to the animals. They didn't know him. Didn't trust him. He was a stranger. Now he was shearing sheep and alpacas like a pro. Always knowing when the cows need to be milked. He even knew more about them than the farmlands. Daniel could tell which animal was sick. Which cow was fertile. It started to freak him out. It wasn't like he was using a farmer's almanac or something. It just came naturally. Like driving. No, like breathing. Then came the next race. Saudi Arabia. He didn't have the fondest memories of Jeddah. Didn't feel like tuning in. But his dad was somehow now invested in Doohan's performance. Something about a fellow Aussie in the sport. Daniel knew that Joseph saw younger Danny in Jack and Oscar. That hungry, scrappy 20 something battling for points, for a win. Alone, in Europe, missing home, trying to get sponsors, trying to get the people back at home to tune in. So he sits by his dad, and despite all odds, Daniel cheers for the McLarens. He should really pick a team he had no history with, like Ferrari or Aston Martin. Seeing the VCARBs scramble for points is like a punch to the gut. He can't help but wonder what he'd do in the car. Would the upgrades be kind to him? Would he be able to outperform Isack or Liam or Yuki. Could he be even close to them on the SIM, or would he be at a Sauber's pace or in the wall. Danny looks at his hand, the scar still visible. Oscar is on the podium again, being drowned in champagne like his predecessor once was. And Mark Webber before them. And Jack Brabham. Who would come after them? Where was the rookie that would take it home one day? Daniel thinks of all the kids he could visit on the karting tracks. How he's getting old now and should be thinking of making one anytime now. After all, somebody has to give baby Verstappen- Piquet a run for their money.

Dan goes to sleep in his childhood bedroom and wakes up in a barn. He can't see properly. His eyes seem so far apart, and his head feels heavy. He takes a breath and hears a loud "pff" coming out of his nostrils. That can't be right. He tries to get up, but his hair keeps getting in his eyes. The dark curls are entirely too long, almost like bangs now. He looks around, and he can't recognize any of the animals. He sees the brands, the tags, and it clicks. He's in the next property over. The one which got inherited by some distant relatives of the original owners who wanted nothing to do with it. Who turned it into an AirBnB, giving the guest an "authentic experience." And discounted prices due to the animal stench. Daniel recalls listening on the farm hands talking about the trio of friends and how they messed up, thinking they'd be able to travel to Sydney and back every day. How one of them apparently wore his team hat like a uniform, not having any idea, he lived nearby. This was bad. He had to get out of there. He couldn't afford for a fan to see him dazed and confused, post sleep walking and apparently, judging by his bare feet scrambling on the hay, naked. He tried to walk, but he collided head first with a pole. Daniel lets out a groan, and here it is that moo, from months ago. The sound that drove away Heidi was now back. And it was scarring the cattle. He was walking over to them, trying to soothe them, but to no avail. It was only getting worse.

He hears footsteps and tries to hide. But the sudden movement makes him dizzy, and before he realizes what's going on, he's on his ass. All he can do is try to hide his head between his legs, literally. But as soon as he realizes that two protruding horns are on his knees, he knows he's inevitably and irrevocably screwed.

You hate this entire trip. Your Australian friend finally goes back home, and by some miracle, you can send her off before going long distance. Then, at the airport, she gets the text that her friends are no longer welcome in her parents' home. Something about traditions and bad luck. Slight bump on the road, but that just means that you'll have to find a cheap hotel nearby. The only thing in your budget that can accommodate 3 people is hours away. With no other option, you're on a farm in Perth. And now, in the middle of the night, the animals are freaking out. The rest of your friends think that the livestock will calm down on its own. But you see it as an omen. What if there's a snake or a spider that's in the barn? Or an intruder, a drunk teenager, or something. So you go to check it out, classic horror movie trope. Lone girl in the dead of the night, only in her babydoll nightgown. Serial killers were also a possibility you reason with yourself as you use your phone flashlight. George Orwell did not prepare you for this might be one of the last things you think. At least it was iconic.

You walk in and the cacophony starts again. Of course the animals aren't happy, they don't know you. But there's something wrong. There's a statue in the middle of the barn? A perfect replica of a minotaur that wasn't there before. You go to touch it and it moves. You jerk away immediately as if you're scalded by burning water.

"Jesus, what are you? A freaky robot?" You ask and it shakes its head.

"Wait, was that a coincidence? Can you actually understand me?" The creature shakes its head again and then nods. So there was a human in there. An anatomically correct one, judging by the quick glance you make towards it, well him now. You should go. Get back to bed and blame this on whatever moonshine you drank with your friends after finding a bottle in a closet. Call it a sleep paralysis demon or something. But you can't just leave it. Because he looks as confused as you are. His dark brown bull eyes remind you of someone. You ask him if he's seen himself and he shakes his head no. You ask him if it's okay to take a picture with the flash on and show him. He nods. You almost laugh as he poses, a rock on sign next to his horns. You snap the shot and walk over to him. You try to move in such a way he sees himself, but when you're close enough, you get your eureka moment. He has tattoos, ink on his skin that's as familiar as if it was on yours. The American traditional ship on his thigh. The rose on his hand. The of love and life on his collarbone. This creature was your celebrity crush. Daniel Ricciardo was in quite of a pickle. And you'd be in one too if you let on that you knew it was him.

Because Daniel was off the grid, in more than one way. Even the Instagram and Tumblr fan pages were in a drought. Scotty's content was only throwbacks, the man was practically a ghost. Technically a minotaur, you joke in your head. You absent-mindedly hand him the phone, let him see what he looks like. You don't notice the sounds of distress. How both of his hands fly to his crotch, cupping it awkwardly. How he's shaking his head, almost wanting to throw away the bull face with sheer force. You're terrified, but you do something stupid. You start comforting him, as if he's a child. Whispering that it's okay and that he's safe. That this can be fixed. You should leave. You should give him some clothes and snacks, let him sleep in or something. But you can't help it. You touch his head, attempting to brush off the fur out of his eyes. A male highland cow, you thought, fit him better than a honeybadger. He huffs, his dark brown eyes filled with rage.

"I'm sorry, Daniel." You say, entirely to loud. He knows you know. So you do the one thing you know you shouldn't do. You turn your back on him and run.

He's an athlete. Albeit retired, he has his stamina. He can run. And you barely see in the dark. You don't know the layout, just that it looks huge. You somehow have a head start, the bunny slippers having good grip on the grass. But you can hear him behind you. Huffing, mad, a raging bull. You speed out of there, happy that your friends left the door to the wooden fence open. You're in the thick of it now. There's just a dirt road ahead of you and you take it. Twigs snap around you, you scrape your legs on bushes. You feel like Daniel is enjoying this, enjoying how you already sound out of breath. How you occasionally look back to see him dangerously close to you. How a snake darts out and you shriek, backing into him. How he takes the creature and lets it curl around him, seemingly needing the heat. Danny releases it, letting it go in the opposite direction of you. You, who's kneeling, exhausted, trying to catch your breath. Mud is caking the hem of your nightgown and you're just defeated.

Daniel should pick you up and lead you back to safety. He should trust that you won't tell anyone about this. Who would believe you anyway. If you sold the pictures, they'd think you got a little crazy with photoshop. Or that he was into some weird furry sex thing. But there's something about you, looking so vulnerable, caught by him, helpless that makes him feral. So he has to get it out of his system, the anger he just felt posses him earlier.

He kneels, tan legs familiar with the soil. He'd sit here often after a bike ride, knee pads off, just stretching or squatting. And now he was on top of you, elbows on either side of your face, cock heavy, almost brushing against your ass. He can see that you're frozen, eyes wide in fear. Your breathing is irregular and he's scared. He knows what a panic attack feels like, knows how your chest is tight already. So he does what a bull might do to a calf that's in distress. Licks.

The thick bovine tongue smells bad. The texture is almost slimy, but it also feels good? It encompasses your whole chest. He presses it against your left breast, and swirls it. He's trying to feel your heartbeat, you guess but the only thing he's successfully doing is flicking his tongue against your nipple. Again. And again. And again. You scratch at the ground bellow you, caking your nails with dirt.

"Daniel please." You say and he gets the jist. You've calmed down. He pulls away, a thick string of saliva connecting you. You're not sure what you're doing and why. Maybe it's all the adrenaline, scrambling your brain. But you get on your hands and knees and spread your legs for him. You move your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to him. It's an invitation. A peace offering, if you will. He pressed his wet nose against it and attempts a kiss. When it doesn't work, he simply licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance.

It's soaked and sloppy and clumsy, and yet it has you aching for more. You reach your hand behind you, spread your folds open, showing him exactly what you need. His tongue is as thick as regular cock, even worse. It fills you, stretching you out so good. The texture which you thought you'd hate was actually good, foreign yet intriguing. You shift your hips, trying to move, to get more, to fuck yourself on it, on him. Daniel doesn't like your squirming. It's throwing him off, what if you move the wrong way and accidentally scratch yourself on his new horns. So he grabs you around the waist and picks you up, your knees around his shoulders. He thrusts his tongue into your slick cunt as you're upside down, just moaning and catching an eyefull of his monstrous cock.

You're sure your perspective might be off because that thing did not fit with Daniel's human lower half. It was big, bigger than anything you've ever seen (aside on your curious browses of the Bad Dragons site) and definitely way more than anything you've ever taken. The minotaur above you didn't let you be distracted for long, flicking his tongue. He fully grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him, fucking you with his tongue. He's fast and unrelenting and before you know it, you're coming against his face. Danny sets you down gently, but you're still face to face with his cock. Angry, red, the tip decorated with beads of precum on it. Begging to be used, begging to shoot loads into your pussy, to fill you and breed you. Well, when in magical realism, you think. You silently ask that Australia has good gynecologists on speed dial and affordable healthcare before saying.

"Danny, will you sit for me. I think that will be the easiest way for me to try to take this. Rely on good old gravity." He lets out a puff of air from his nostrils, what you take as a chuckle. But he obeys. He holds your hips, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze. Daniel nudges the monster cock around you, trying to gather the slick from his saliva and your orgasm. He can't even get the tip in. You take a deep breath and relax, and just try to move down. It's slow, but it feels good. So, so good. Danny wants to hump you, to shove his dick inside of you, but he knows he can't. He settles for groping you instead, rough, calloused suntan hands against your tits. Squeezing, making you moan. You're so responsive to him, gone is the fear and hesitation. You're running on lust fumes, fucking made for taking his cock. You try to move, to bounce on it, to get something. But you're lucky because your partner is sensitive. Hasn't felt even his own fist around his cock, much less a perfect wet cunt. It doesn't take much for you to be feeling the telltale slowing of his hips, the throb of him inside of you.

Daniel Ricciardo kisses you as he cums. It's sloppy and gross, and you can taste yourself a tenfold of his large tongue. But it's also right. You get off him, legs jelly. You're too tired to move, and you just hope that you're actually able to flee with him. God knows what a farmhand will think if they find the two of you like that. For now you curl against Danny and try to get some sleep.

Daniel still wakes up before you, feeling lighter, like the worst is over. He turns to you and there aren't horns digging into the dirt below him. He looks around and luckily enough, he did manage to drag you far enough for no one to see. You were sleeping peacefully, his fucking cum dried in a puddle beneath you. Your clothes are intact enough, albeit filthy. He nudges you, getting ready for the most unusual morning after conversation. But when you open your eyes and practically cover his face with kisses, he changes his mind. Maybe it would be worth keeping you. Especially after you promise to get him a clean pair of clothes to change into if he points you to the way back.

Of course, his smug laughter echoes when you realize he's fully naked and mutter "that wasn't part of the weird minotaur thing, god does have favorites." He also finds it amusing that your most oversized clothes are the Hugo shirts he "modeled for", you were a bit of a crazy fangirl, huh. He liked to be liked, to be praised, to be worshiped. He dedicated his life to this sport, so why wouldn't he profit from it. Danny likes that you find a loophole in your visa and stay with him in his parents' house. You're constantly encouraging him, making him appreciate life again. Helping him draft his little LinkedIn posts. Just listening to his ideas and showing him the little Tiktoks fans make to support the Enchanté and F1 academy collaboration. Both of you cheer and drink a shit ton of the new wine when Christian Horner gets demoted. Maybe that's why in the morning you're vomiting, head almost in the toilet. The cheeseburger Danny offers as hungover food also doesn't bode well for you. There's something wrong, and you think it's stress. International moves lead to missed periods, right? Somewhere, in Singapore, an old woman is looking into a crystal ball. It's May in Australia, and Daniel Ricciardo can't sleep again.

[jamminvroomvroom]

stress.

ln x fem!reader

finally finally finally uploading this! returning from my fic hiatus with some good old fashioned lando smut. feedback is always much appreciated! love you guys, thanks for being here <3 (pls tell me if the format is weird)

in which lando is stressed and so are you.

warnings: 18+!! smut, language, lando being an annoying little bitch, sliiiightly inappropriate workplace relationship, tiny bit of angst

1.7k words

he’d barely spoken since he’d jumped out of the car, helmet shoved at the first person he saw. his fingers worked through his sweat dampened curls, sheer frustration coursing clearly through his veins. they’d failed him, yet again.

your eyebrows were furrowed, the tension in your face conveying your deepest sympathy to him. it only angered him further. you gulped.

lando didn’t look at you again.

-

you trailed behind him awkwardly, every step he took seemed to shake with rage. he’d strutted from interview to interview, hardly biting his tongue. your warning eyes did nothing to soothe the sting of his words, he wasn’t even checking himself, just spitting sarcasm, his own personal venom.

you were quietly seething yourself by the time you made it into the hotel lobby, huffing as he continued to ignore you. the way your heart ached for him did little to ease your growing anger. you caught him as he ducked into the elevator while you were speaking to the woman at the front desk, trying to lose you. you snapped. you apologetically excused yourself, darting across the floor and into the metal box, the closing doors jolting back open.

“where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“don’t want to talk to you.”

“oh, for fuck sake, lando. are you five years old? we let you leave the track but we still need to debrief. you have duties.”

“yeah well, the team has a duty towards me, too.” he sneered.

“don’t you dare take it out on me. i didn’t build that tractor.” you bit back, pointing your finger at him.

he looked down at you, smirking, perhaps at your offhand comment. he looked evil, you couldn’t think of a better word. you felt hot, face red. working with him was, more often than not, headache inducing, especially lately.

“maybe i want to take it out on you.” his voice had dropped an octave, sultry, nostalgic.

your mouth was dry, lips parted. you felt like gasping for air, thighs clenching at his suggestion.

you swore this wouldn’t happen again. oh well.

you closed the gap, sighing in defeat, lips against his. he smiled, victorious in something, finally. you hated the hold he had on you. he was warm, familiar, hands at home on your waist. he pulled away to nip at your neck, bruising you deliciously. you swatted his arm in annoyance.

“knew you wouldn’t be able to resist after last time.” he taunted. if your eyes weren’t squeezed tightly shut, you would have rolled them.

the elevator dinged, and you were stumbling out, poorly composed. the lighting was dim, dim enough that he thought he could sneak a hand on your waist. you slapped him, hard this time. he laughed.

-

lando seemed to have cheered up the second you’d dropped to your knees at the end of his bed. one of his hands was wound in your hair, tugging harder every time your tongue ran over the vein that made his eyes roll back. he was panting, his neck flexing every time he threw his head back. you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter each time he did, his tanned skin dampened with sweat, torso on display, muscles rippling.

just when you thought he was nearing the edge, he yanked you off of him, your balance momentarily lost as he pulled you off your knees on the carpet. lando steadied you in the narrow gap between his legs, glazed over eyes staring up at you, lustful and wanting. he kept his stoney eyes on yours, pupils blown as he ripped each garment of clothing off your body until you were bare, your flushed skin pressed to his. you seemed to prefer each other this way, naked, no talking.

you swallowed hard as you caught sight of your mclaren polo, crumpled on the floor, your mind suddenly riddled with the image of you being fired. as quickly as the anxiety inducing mirage arrived, it was gone, replaced by bright white nothing as you felt his lips hit the soft skin of your stomach. his curls tickled the underside of your breasts, one of your hands threading through the messy strands. you pulled his head back, leaning down to kiss him urgently, his hands finding the backs of your thighs. you were on top of him before you could even process it, your back against the mattress even quicker.

you remembered the last time, the frantic tearing at each other’s clothes, the blurriness, the way his giant hands seemed at home in all the places he touched you. the way your eyes rolled back and your toes curled and the way your name tore from the back of his throat. it had been carnal and desperate and a long time coming. so good, that you’d almost decided it was worth the risk to do it again.

your attention turned back to him as his hands grabbed at your hips, grinding you into him while he pressed open mouthed kisses over your neck, his teeth grazing your sweet spot. you let out a breathy moan, your body moving with his.

“you don’t know how much i’ve missed this. think about that night all the time.” he whispered. “this body, your pretty little noises, god. so perfect for me.” his breath fanned over your neck, your back arching.

“lando, please.” you whimpered, uncaringly desperate for him. he laughed, low.

“i know, pretty girl, i know.”

you were a mess beneath him as soon as his fingers found your core. you could feel him smile against your skin, taking a break from the bruises he was leaving against your neck. presumably he’d felt how much you needed him, your pussy slick. lando ran his fingers through your folds, finding your clit, teasing it between his fingers. you whined, writhing, thighs snapping shut to trap his hand.

lando pulled away, forcing your legs apart once more, snaking down your body until he rested between your thighs. his grip was iron-clad, unrelenting. your eyes rolled back the second he leant in, his tongue meeting your clit just as his fingers glided inside of you. he moved quickly, hard, the sound of your wetness doing nothing to shame you, and everything to get you both even needier.

“you like it like this, don’t you?” he taunted, as his fingers hit that spot your legs kicking out from the pleasure. you couldn’t respond, hearing him snicker quietly. it made you flushed, almost embarrassed to be so vulnerable underneath him, but it felt too good to care.

“please.” you cried out once more, no shame in your desperation.

he pulled away, crawling up your body painfully slowly, the kisses peppered across your abdomen making you shake.

“do you think about that night too? bet you’ve been waiting for this just as much as i have.” he whispered, hovering over you. “god, every time i see you at the track or in the factory, bossing me around like you run the place, i just want to bend you over and remind you who you think of at night.”

you blushed, hard, you lip caught beneath your teeth as he inched inside of you, teasing you further.

“come on, lando.” you groaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him deep.

you both moaned, ecstasy, stress relief.

“oh, so that’s how you wanna play it?” he asked, grinning down at you. the smirk painted on your face was wiped away instantly by his immediately unrelenting pace.

he was harsh, filthy, taking it all out on you. one of his hands dug into your thigh, keeping you in place, reminding you who was making you feel so good. the other hung loosely around your neck like a piece of expensive jewellery, making sure you kept your eyes open. the look on his face, that lazy, devious smirk, was enough incentive to keep you transfixed on his face, his eyes gleaming, the dark rings around them framing his intense stare.

just as you were nearing your end, he pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach like you were nothing. he forced you onto your elbows, back arched, ass up, your face lost to the pillows. a haze washed over you, bright white nothingness clouding your vision as he went even deeper. your mouth fell open, your silent scream burrowing into the comforter as you lost yourself, your orgasm beginning to wash over you.

lando felt you let go, pulling you up until you were on your knees in front of him, your back to his chest, the angle change making you whimper into the warm air of the hotel room. he held you still, his hand snaking around you until he found your clit, prolonging your orgasm, your body shaking against his.

you both collapsed into a heap, his sweaty body covering yours. you could feel his curls tickling your shoulder, his heavy breath fanning sending shivers down your spine. an open mouthed kiss to your shoulder blade had your eyes shooting open, your stomach twisting. it was soft, intimate, the opposite of how you usually spent your time together.

this was not like last time.

you needed to leave, urgently, escape before things got worse, weirder, even more unprofessional. it was stress relief, a way of releasing all of the pent up tension your jobs created between the pair of you.

you assumed he’d be happy to see the back of you, now that you were done with what you came here to do. you were proven wrong when he rolled off of you, pulling the duvet over your knackered body.

a complete silence fell between you as he switched off the bedside lamp, rolling over onto his side, facing you. he seemed pensive, like he was trying to decide what to say. and then, finally, he spoke.

“i appreciate you, you know?” he said softly, quietly into the pitch black space between you.

you smiled, thankful for the darkness surrounding you. you knew you’d gone red at his admission. your heart may have skipped a beat; you were probably just tired, you told yourself.

“see? i knew you weren’t a total asshole.” you murmured, back to teasing him. it was the safe option. you kicked yourself immediately. you’d just had sex with him, what good was playing it safe?

“you love it.” you could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“go to sleep, norris.”

-

thank you for reading! <3

-

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[hollywoodoutbreak]

Academy Award nominee Chiwetel Ejiofor is practically a veteran of the Marvel universe. After his appearances as the complex Baron Mordo in both 2016's Doctor Strange and 2022's Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, he's now  joined the symbiote-fueled mayhem of Venom: Let There Be Carnage, starring alongside the incredible Tom Hardy.  But this time, instead of wielding mystical powers, he's got a front-row seat to the incredible dual performance of Hardy as both Eddie Brock and the symbiote Venom.

Don't miss Venom: Let There Be Carnage, still playing in theaters, to witness this dynamic duo for yourself!

[stealthypussycat]

Check out what Venom 3 TLD director had to say in an interview with IGN:

EDDIE IS OVER ANNE, HE IS COMPLETELY COMMITTED TO VENOM NOW. ❤️

I'M CRYING, I'M FUCKING CRYING!!

THEY ARE IN LOVE AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER GOD

I LOVE YOU KELLY I LOVE YOU TOM😭❤️

Symbrock is canon!!!!

[bestest-brackets]

Now the the qualifying round is over, It’s time for the official announcement!

Introducing…

The Most in Need of a Hug Bracket!!

This is by FAR the biggest bracket I’ve ever run

The first round will likely be posted on Friday, May 9, although it is finals week, so that is subject to change. If May 9 looks impossible I’ll let you know in advance.

Anyway, the full lineup is below the cut!

Most in in Need of a Hug Bracket

Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy VII) vs Coco (Witch Hat Atelier)

Mono (Little Nightmares II) vs Milo Thatch (Atlantis: The Lost Empire)

Hunter (The Owl House) vs Arthur Lester (Malevolent)

Jason Todd (DC Comics) vs Aoyama Mitsuo (Atarashii Joushi wa Do Tennen)

Bamora (Dandadan) vs Zelda (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom)

Big Man (Splatoon 3) vs Dante Sparta (Devil May Cry)

Stanley (Spiritfarer) vs Sora (Kingdom Hearts)

Mizu (Blue Eye Samurai) vs Wheelbarrow (Monopoly)

Susie (Deltarune) vs Sunny (OMORI)

Kyle Milton (The WereCleaner) vs Klemper (Danny Phantom)

Misfortune Ramirez Hernandez (Little Misfortune) vs Sam Winchester (Supernatural)

Kissy Missy (Poppy Playtime) vs Haymitch Abernathy (The Hunger Games)

Frankensteins Monster (Frankenstein) vs Mizi (Alien Stage)

Yellow Guy (Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared) vs Taranza (Kirby)

Carlos De Vil (Descendants) vs Denji (Chainsaw Man)

Rocket Raccoon (MCU) vs Soren (Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn)

Sigma (Bungo Stray Dogs) vs Shane (Stardew Valley)

Evan Kelmp (Misfits and Magic) vs Heinz Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb)

Alan Wake (Alan Wake) vs Sayori (Doki Doki Literature Club)

Peril (Wings of Fire) vs Kermit the Frog (Muppets)

Boy (Hunter: The Parenting) vs Kurode (Fragaria Memories)

Siffrin (In Stars and Time) vs Maia Drazhar (The Goblin Emperor)

James “Jim” Lake Jr (Tales of Arcadia) vs Emily Pope (Control)

Alluka Zoldyck & Nanika (Hunter x Hunter) vs Kiyotaka Ishimaru (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc)

Sanji (One Piece) vs Tom (Paralympic Mascot)

Erik (The Phantom of the Opera) vs Dys (I was a Teenage Exocolonist)

Ray (The Princess and the Frog) vs Bumble (Warriors)

Neeko (League of Legends) vs Ruffian the Blue (A Hero’s Guide)

Starscream (Transformers) vs Gideon Nav (Gideon the Ninth)

Merlin (Merlin) vs Wylan van Eck (Six of Crows)

Count Bleck (Super Paper Mario) vs Varian (Tangled)

Nagasaki Soyo (BanG Dream!) vs Eustace Winner (Ace Attorney Investigations: Prosecutors Gambit)

Asahina Mafuyu (Project SEKAI: Colorful Stage) vs Silver the Hedgehog (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Molly Blyndeff (Epithet Erased) vs Jennifer (Rule of Rose)

Sakura Matou (Fate/stay Night) vs Towa (Slow Damage)

Jonathon Sims (The Magnus Archives) vs Hershel Layton (Professor Layton)

Thorfinn Karlsefni (Vinland Saga) vs Veronica Sawyer (Heathers the Musical)

The Princess (Slay the Princess) vs Crutchie Morris (Newsies)

Golden Cheese Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom) vs John Thomas Ward (FAITH: The Unholy Trinity)

Deena (Nexomon) vs Serizawa Katsuya (Mob Psycho 100)

Nicky Little (Pepper Ann) vs Torbek (Once Upon a Witchlight)

Bryce Hanson (Hfj0NE) vs Zena (Dragalia Lost)

Kaladin Stormblessed (The Stormlight Archive) vs Mark Heathcliff (The Mandela Catalogue)

Beatriz (“Autistic? Me?”) vs Adrien Agreste (Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir)

Shang Qinghua (The Scum Villain’s Self-serving System) vs Arven (Pokémon Scarlet and Violet)

Nina Tucker (Fullmetal Alchemist) vs Violet Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

Hatake Kakashi (Naruto) vs Shoko Nishiyama (Koe no Katachi)

Kang Tae-jun (Akatsuki no Yona) vs Angela Orosco (Silent Hill 2)

Ruby Rose (RWBY) vs Venom Snake (Metal Gear Solid V)

Yassen Gregorvitch (Alex Rider) vs Ceroba Ketsukane (Undertale Yellow)

Gordon Freeman (Half-life) vs Jay Halstead (Chicago PD)

Amane Momose (MILGRAM) vs Senshi (Dungeon Meshi)

Glisten (Dandy’s World) vs Homura Akemi (Puella Magi: Madoka Magica)

Serial Designation J (Murder Drones) vs Lestat de Lioncourt (Interview with a Vampire)

Israel “Izzy” Hands (Our Flag Means Death) vs Falco Grice (Attack on Titan)

Vinicius (Olympic Mascot) vs Stanford Pines (Gravity Falls)

The Doctor (Doctor Who) vs Medkit (Phighting)

Isaac (The Binding of Isaac) vs Rob (The Amazing World of Gumball)

Monroe (Grimm) vs Jane Doe (Ride the Cyclone)

Alex Fierro (Magnus Chase) vs Lucas (Mother 3)

Flowey (Undertale) vs Frodo Baggins (Lord of the Rings)

Evan “Buck” Buckley (9-1-1) vs Nanami Kento (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Harrier du Bois (Disco Elysium) vs Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Romano (Hetalia) vs Michitaka Sakai (Kono Oto Tomare!)