ITS ALL GOJO SMUT, BLURBS OR HEADCANONS IM SICK
creds to @d1.moonknight.goo on tt
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ITS ALL GOJO SMUT, BLURBS OR HEADCANONS IM SICK
creds to @d1.moonknight.goo on tt
✒️ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴇʀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3: ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ ✒️
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ + ʀᴇᴅᴇᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:
ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ɪɴꜰɪᴅᴇʟɪᴛʏ
ɪɴᴛᴇɴꜱᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙʀᴇᴀᴋ
ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ꜱʟᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ)
ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴇꜰ
ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴀꜱʟɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ
ꜰʟᴀꜱʜ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ʜᴜᴍɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
The roar of the crowd echoed through the circuit like a wave of thunder, a chorus of orange-clad fans electrified by the rhythm of Formula 1 at Zandvoort. Flags flapped in the sea breeze. Music pulsed through the paddock. Engines screamed from the garages, their guttural growls vibrating through every soul on the premises.
(Y/n) stood at the edge of the restricted hospitality zone, an official pass hanging from her neck like an invisible disguise. Few noticed her, and those who did, gave courteous nods, assuming she was merely another guest or staff member.
She wore a loose white blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers, a pair of designer sunglasses shielding her eyes, and her hair swept neatly into a twist. In her hands was a thermos, wrapped tightly in a cloth. The smell of its contents, a home-cooked dish, Lando’s favorite, wafted upward every time the wind caught it. She had spent the night preparing it, her fingers working methodically in their kitchen while her heart fluttered with the anticipation of surprising her husband.
She hadn’t told Lando she was flying to the Netherlands. The decision had been last-minute, impulsive even, but spurred by the soft guilt in his voice when he told her she might be better off staying at home. She wanted to prove otherwise, to show him she could exist in his world without being a burden. That she chose him, always.
She smiled faintly to herself, weaving through the maze of team trucks and steel stairs, heading toward McLaren’s hospitality area. She had done this before, countless times, in fact, but this time, something felt different. The air, maybe. The weight behind her smile.
The pass around her neck granted her more access than most, but she still stepped quietly, respectfully. She could hear voices ahead, muffled laughter, flirtatious giggles. The sound came from behind one of the storage trucks, a shadowed corner wedged between the motorhome and the service vehicles.
Then she heard it. A moan.
A slow, guttural sound, dragged from a woman’s throat.
(Y/n)’s smile faltered.
She took another step.
And then another.
Each one heavier than the last.
Her hands clenched tighter around the thermos. Her heart began to pound, not out of anticipation now, but out of something more primal. Something laced with dread.
As she rounded the corner, the world fell silent.
There, half-hidden behind the curved edge of a supply truck, Lando stood with a woman pressed against the metal siding. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. Her head tilted back, mouth slack with pleasure. Her arms clung to his neck as he drove into her, slow and relentless, one hand holding her hip, the other clasped tightly over her mouth, muffling her cries.
His eyes were shut.
His jaw was clenched.
His movements were desperate.
He was completely consumed.
And she, (Y/n), his wife, stood only ten feet away.
Her breath caught, stuck somewhere between her ribs and her throat. The thermos slipped from her fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud, the lid cracking open. The aroma of the food she had spent hours preparing spilled out onto the asphalt.
The sound startled them both.
Lando’s head snapped up.
The woman gasped as he pulled back instinctively, arms letting go of her as if she were suddenly made of flame.
His eyes met (Y/n)’s.
And the world, his world, collapsed.
“(Y/n)...” he whispered, voice hollow.
She stared at him, her face a mosaic of betrayal. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Tears pooled in her eyes and spilled without permission, tracing down her cheeks with the grace of rain on glass. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry out. That would have required breath. And she had none.
The woman, barely composed, smirked. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and scoffed. “Well, now it all makes sense. No wonder you were so tense, darling.”
(Y/n)’s gaze shifted to her, eyes still glistening, but steel beneath the sorrow.
She stepped forward once.
The woman raised an eyebrow. “What? You gonna cry on me, too?”
She didn’t respond.
Instead, (Y/n)’s palm cracked across her face with such force it echoed through the space like a gunshot. The woman stumbled backward, gasping in shock.
“Are you insane—?”
Another swift movement. A shift of stance. A sharp pivot.
With a single practiced motion, (Y/n) spun and delivered a crescent kick to the side of the woman’s head. The contact was immediate and devastating.
The woman crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Lando stumbled forward, hands raised, trembling. “(Y/n)... Please, wait. It’s not— I didn’t mean—”
She slapped him, open-handed and clean across the face. Not as a fight. But as punctuation. Final. Unforgiving.
He staggered back, eyes wild, skin burning.
“I brought you your favorite,” she said softly, her voice shaking as she glanced at the shattered thermos on the floor. “I thought you’d be hungry.”
“I— I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I swear—she meant nothing—”
“And I meant everything,” she finished.
That shut him up.
Footsteps echoed behind them.
Zak Brown, Oscar Piastri, Andrea Stella, and Lily Zneimer came rushing around the corner, drawn by the noise, by the sickening tension crackling in the air. Their eyes fell on the scene: the unconscious woman on the ground, the shattered meal, the slap-mark blooming red across Lando’s cheek, and (Y/n), standing still in the storm’s epicenter.
“What the hell is going on?” Zak demanded, eyes bouncing between the wreckage.
Lily’s jaw dropped. “Is that—? Oh my God, (Y/n)...”
(Y/n) didn’t answer. Her eyes remained locked on Lando, who now looked like a man unraveling, his knees buckling beneath the weight of his shame.
“I’m going home,” she said quietly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Do not follow me.”
“Wait—” Lando reached for her wrist.
Oscar grabbed his arm. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.”
“She’s my wife!”
“And you spat on that,” Andrea snapped, eyes cold. “You threw her away for what? Five minutes of flesh against a wall?”
“She surprised me—I didn’t know she was coming—”
“That’s your defense?” Zak cut in. “She caught you cheating because she dared to love you?”
Lando looked cornered. “I made a mistake—”
“A mistake is missing a meeting,” Zak growled. “This was destruction. You’ve broken something that doesn’t deserve to be broken.”
Lando turned toward the direction (Y/n) had gone, chest heaving. “I need to talk to her. I can fix this.”
Lily stepped in front of him. “No. Not right now. You don’t get to run after her and dump more lies on top of what she just saw. You stay. You race. Then we talk. Then you face the storm you created.”
“But—”
“She loved you so quietly,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “And you never noticed.”
Lando stood there, silent now, motionless, watching the love of his life disappear into the crowd, a trail of devastation behind her.
She didn’t cry again until she reached the hotel.
Not in the car.
Not in the elevator.
Not even in the hallway.
But the moment the door shut behind her, she collapsed against it. Her knees gave out. Her hands shook. Her entire body trembled beneath the weight of grief she didn’t know her heart could hold.
The silence in the room was unbearable. She had imagined surprising him, maybe kissing his cheek while everyone watched, maybe feeding him spoonfuls of the dish she’d prepared.
Instead, she had watched him give himself to another.
She had watched her marriage end.
Hours passed.
Outside, the engines screamed across the track as the race began.
Inside, (Y/n) sat curled on the bed, her face buried in her hands, her wedding band still digging into her skin like a wound she couldn’t remove yet.
Her phone buzzed.
Again.
And again.
Lando
Please pick up. Please, angel. Please. Let me explain. I can’t breathe without you. You don’t understand what you mean to me. You’re my life. Please, come back to the paddock.
She blocked the number.
To be continued...🧡
✒️ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴇʀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4: ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴘᴘʟᴀᴜꜱᴇ ✒️
📝 Note from the Author: Yep, we’re back again today with another emotional gut-punch, and I just want to say thank you. Truly. Whether you’re liking, reblogging, commenting, or just quietly reading, your support means everything. This story wouldn’t breathe without you.
Quick highlight from this chapter that shattered me:
“I brought you your favorite,” she said softly, her voice shaking as she glanced at the shattered thermos on the floor. “I thought you’d be hungry.”
That one line? A whole heartbreak. She came with love, with hope, with warmth, and walked away with nothing but silence and betrayal. It says everything without screaming.
Thank you for being here. For every note. Every reblog. Every emotion you throw back at this story. You make the pain worth it.
With love, me 🧡
KANJI | SANEMI x READER | DEMON SLAYER
~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.
Greetings beloved people!
Io and behold, my first time writing smut!
Thirteenth Doctor x (Genderneutral) Reader: Sex Pollen on a beautiful moon - shameless smut edition!
Reader is AFAB and body parts are referred to by name but I did not use any pronouns to refer to the reader themselves!
No beta, we die like men! I wrote this instead of sleeping! Enjoy!
********* Smut is way under the cut!*************
Bouquet (13 x Reader)
“This is the best day to go exploring with Y/N!”, the Doctor exclaimed excitedly while grabbing your hand to pull you with her towards a glittering field of flowers with an equally vibrant forest shimmering on the horizon.
You laughed, thrilled to be chosen by her to spend a day with her. To be close to her and to see her contagious, a billion galaxies erupting in light, smile.
Travelling with the Doctor was like a fever dream, in the best and worst meaning. At times so dangerous and scary that you were afraid to take just one more step. Usually the Doctor would then turn around to you and would encourage you to go on.
“Come on, Y/N,”, she would say with her beautiful eyes full of stars and her scrunched nose and deliciously curved lips, “I need your help here, I can’t do it without you!”
And at other times it was so unbelievable and beautiful that you feared you would wake up and find it all not to be real.
Today you had landed on a small moon of a busy planet.
Onceler X Fem!reader Oneshots! - Sick!Onceler x Caring! reader (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/927046617-onceler-x-fem-reader-oneshots-sick-onceler-x?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Freida007&wp_originator=xAO%2F5lB52SpsK2l2zuVNhRksYbxOyXmcqsSaj8MMOUMqNhqclfCKIhVeHdRtAPs9wH2NhvlDUBrolDNaqEnaFdwEe%2BX%2FGfTpJHF7eiwWqsyOgJc9f2yKLRPRQZVZTLla bitches be like: Oh My GoD tHe OnCeLeR fAnDoM iS sTiLL hApPeNiNg?¿ I'm bitches
Yall this is soo good yall better read this!!
Fruity Four: Flexibility
just did a yoga practice and it had me thinking of the fruity four and flexibility
Steve
will break in half if he tries to touch his toes, just absolutely incapable of the slightest flexibility and if he sees you so much as cross your legs he will be amazed because;
"how the hell did you do that! doesnt that hurt?"
Nancy
could teach a yoga class, i feel like after the upside down experiences yoga and meditation helped her with the trauma. it makes her feel in control, if you ask her about it;
"i'm happy to show you just how flexible i can be"
Robin
is naturally flexible but cannot for the life of her do yoga due to balance issues. nancy tried to teach her once and it ended up with robin nearly concussing the both of them, she did warn nancy about her difficulties learning to walk
Eddie
i'm really torn with him, on one hand i see him as being naturally flexible and on the other hand i see him being like dry pasta. i'm leaning more towards him having hypermobility in his fingers and arms, one of those kids in school who thought it was funny to gross his classmates out by pulling his thumb to his forearm
The Grinch’s Heart Was Three Sizes Too Small
Request by @just-a-dreamer23: “ Hello! I hope that you are having a good day. I was wondering if I could request prompts #98 and #100 with Sirius Black but also prompts #7 and #14 with Fred Weasley if possible could the reader either be Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw? Thank you!!😄 “
Prompts: 7. “I look at him/her/them and I just..it’s like when the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes.” + 14. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”
Character: Fred Weasley
Warnings: N/A
Notes: Gif is my own, using my art of Fred Weasley which you can find on my art blog @artisticwarnug here. If you use please make sure you credit me and my art blog properly, that the ownership is clear as it is my own art and I would hate for it to be unclear that I made it <3 x
It’s implied that the reader stays in the Girl’s Dorm, but no pronouns etc. are used.
Susan Bones is a half-blood in this although, I don’t think we have a confirmed blood status for her.
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You groaned as you flopped down onto the bed within your dormitory, legs bouncing against the mattress. Normally any groans in your dorm would be due to the soft, fluffy mattress and wonderful mustard coloured pillows given to all Hufflepuffs, but not today.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” You jump at Susan’s words, fully believing you’d walked into your empty dormitory. At least you liked Susan, at least you were friends...it could have been Millicent instead. She would have surely lectured you on the way you laid down on your bed and the state of your hair.
You roll onto your back and stare at the different grains of wood above your bed, contemplating whether it was a good idea or a terrible one to discuss your feelings openly. Susan was your friend, but feelings were so...complicated. Former, you decided, out weighed that latter, especially as you had this overwhelming need to share your woes.
“Frederick Gideon Weasley...” You sigh out at the mere thought of the boy. Fred Weasley was a thorn in your side, not because you disliked him, not because of the pranks or the cheeky jokes, but because you so desperately liked him that every wink and flirtatious remark sent you into a tizzy.
You turn on your side to look at your friend, “I look at him and I just...you’ve read How the Grinch Stole Christmas, right?”
“Yeah, my muggle cousin made me read it to him, why?”
“Well, when I look at Fred it’s like when the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes.” You expect a heartfelt, serious response at your confession and are instead met with Susan laughing loudly, hands clutching her stomach as she nearly rolls off of her own bed in a fit.
“Stop laughing at me, Susan! Susan Bones!” You don’t sound as angry as you wish though as laughter begins to slip into your own voice at the ridiculousness of comparing your feelings to a children’s Christmas book.
“Alright, Alright, I get it, that was stupid way of explaining it...but not inaccurate.” Whenever you saw Fred’s face, especially when he smiled like that it felt like your heart was increasing in size, like it was too big for your chest, like you couldn’t contain how much you liked him, how much affection you had for him. It was rather painful actually. This uncomfortable sort of feeling building.
“So, Fred, huh?”
“Fred.”
“Have you ever thought of just...telling him?” She posits, legs kicking behind her, arms folded beneath her chin. Always a raised eyebrow. Susan always had a raised eyebrow for you.
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because he clearly likes you back.” You physically pulled back, taken aback at the suggestion, the mere thought that Fred Weasley could like you.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Fred doesn’t like me.”
But the conversation stayed on your mind for weeks. Every time you saw Fred, every time he spoke to you, every little smile, every raised eyebrow, every wink, all brought you back to that one simple sentence; because he clearly likes you back.
It was even on your mind as you left Charms class, books held against your chest, shoes click-clacking against the stone floor of the corridor.
“Y/N! Hey, wait!” You didn’t slow your pace, not because you wished to avoid Fred and his calls for you, but rather because you knew his long legs and big strides would ensure he effortlessly caught up with you. Despite being one of the shorter Weasley’s, due to their stocky nature, the twins were still taller than you.
As you predicted he soon was walking beside you. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noting the way his tie was barely tied, the buttons haphazardly left unbuttoned, the messy red locks. Your heart did that thing again as your eyes caught on the freckles across his cheeks.
“You don’t need to walk with me, Fred, don’t you have Defence against the Dark Arts with Slytherin?” Perhaps it was telling that you, a Hufflepuff, knew his timetable, but you’d had it memorised from the third week into the school year...mostly because he kept telling you where he should be, but where he wasn’t in favour of walking you to your next class instead. You had decided that he felt some sort of joy in ‘forcing’ you to be in his presence, when in reality you rather liked his company.
“I want to walk you, love. Walking you to potions is the highlight of my Tuesday.”
“Yeah, sure it is.” You scoff, not truly believing him. How could walking you to the dungeons be, in anyway, the highlight of any days of the week. You barely even talk most of the time, it was usually just a quiet walk. Not that you minded that, the silence was comfortable and while you certainly enjoyed Fred’s company, you doubted your own company was as enjoyable.
You kept walking, not realising Fred had stopped until a hand reached for your elbow to still you gently. You turned to him confused, after all the last thing you wanted was to be late for potions and Fred had never stopped you before.
“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” His lips are parted, brows furrowed, Fred looks at you as if for the first time he’s realised some great secret, as if what he has previously believed to be true has shifted.
“Fred, what are you talking about?” Your heart feels as if it might jump from your throat at the soft, but sad look pitched at you and you do not understand why he looks so sad, what had you said to cause this?
As Fred steps closer you instinctively go to step back, but stop yourself. He is closer than he has ever been to you and you can see a little scar on his chin, so faint that you’d never noticed it before.
“I want to walk you to class. I enjoy walking you class because I like you. I think you’re beautiful.” You can feel your eyes widen at his words, “I think you’re smart, witty, lovely in more ways than one and even though you’re a goody-two-shoes,”
“Hey!”
He smirks at you, white teeth peaking out from underneath a half raised lip, “Even though you’re a goody-two-shoes and it would be terribly damaging to my reputation...there is nothing I would like more that to take you to Hogsmeade and call you mine, love.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You blink up at him, feeling some how like you knew what he was trying to say, but not confident enough to say it out loud.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Y/N! He wants to snog your face off!” You turn your head to see George leaning back against a wall, somehow managing to evade your notice until this moment.
“He’d know. He’s my twin after all.”
“Will...I would like that. I mean not the snogging! But I...” You run a hand down your face as Fred and George chuckle, tossing a middle finger up at the latter. “I mean that....I would like to go out with you...sometime and I really don’t mind you walking me to class.”
“She means you make her heart grow three times it’s size!”
“Susan!” You hiss at your passing friend, sure that Fred wouldn’t even understand the reference and sure enough he looked rather confused, head tilted to one side. “Does that mean you like me too?”
“Yes...I like you too...but i’m going to be late for potions with Snape!” You exclaim as you look at your watch, realising that you might just get a detention with your least favourite teacher.
“Will you go to Hogsmeade next weekend with me?”
“Yes!” You call out behind you as you rush down the corridor, books clutched to your chest, satchel over one shoulder, and a smile wide across your face.
Howdy!
Just a little intro to the ~brand spanking new~ blog.
I formerly ran my blog @castihelloboys for a couple years, then fell off the fanfic bandwagon. A whole mixed bag of reasons, mostly bad ones, but hey here I am again! I adore all the fics I wrote in the past so that blog is still up and running but I just don’t have access to it. (Stupid me can’t remember ANY login info.)
I’m so excited to be cracking my knuckles and getting back into some writing. I have favourite characters I like to work with my reader inserts which I will tag below, *but* I happily take requests and will do what I can to start filling that post count on this blog.
Cheers!