neonln4 · 3 days ago
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i found a good boy, and he's on my side | lando norris smau
lando norris x reader | a little bit of best friend!oscar
summary: when y/n's ex writes a messy song about her, fans push for lando to break up with her (he doesn't even consider it)
fc: sabrina carpenter
kind of a part 2 to what a coincidence, but you don't have to read part 1 for this to make sense
warnings: non-existent angst, lando very much in love with y/n, very brief mention of cheating (not lando), maybe some typos
note: y/e = your ex
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yourex
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liked by user1 and 593,827 others
yourex Biting My Tongue out tonight
Finally sharing my truth
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user1 WE LOVE YOU Y/E
user2 ready for the tea 🍿
ynfan2 PLEASE LEAVE Y/N ALONE I BEG WE'RE OVER YOU
ynfan1 "sharing my truth" OHHHH BROTHER
user3 the y/n fans getting nervous
ynfan2 not nervous, sick of his lies
user2 perhaps y/n isn't as perfect as you think
user4 anyone else just here for the music
user5 @ yourusername YOU ARE SO OVER
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yourusername
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liked by landonorris, yourbff, and 1,138,827 others
yourusername leng
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ynfan2 UNBOTHERED QUEEN
user2 is she just pretending her ex didn't drop a shady song about her
user6 lando still in the likes ... this is so sad
yourbff your reminder to not wear the red top this weekend
yourusername you've seen my outfits already TRUST there's no red in sight
landonorris that's my girl
ynfan1 MOTHER IS GOING TO SILVERSTONE
user4 how has lando not dumped you yet
user5 you really don't deserve lando
user3 HAS LANDO HEARD THE SONG YET? DUMP HER!!!
ynfan3 what's with all the loser hate comments
landonorris my girlfriend is sooooo leng now come give me a kiss
yourusername calm down
yourusername on my way tho
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landonorris
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liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, and 983,492
landonorris a little summer fun
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user1 JEALOUS
yourusername who's the baddie
landonorris that's my girlfriend mate back off
ynfan2 WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS
user3 waiting for the dumping...
user4 crazy that they're still together
user8 i think some of y'all are a bit dramatic, the song wasn't even that bad and it's just his perspective
ynfan3 A LANDO FAN WITH A BRAIN
yourbff last pic i want her baddddd
landonorris so you don't want [redacted]'s number anymore?
yourbff WAIT I TAKE IT BACK
ynfan2 QUEEN Y/BFF FINALLY APPROVING OF ONE OF Y/N'S MEN
oscarpiastri you stole my best friend
yourusername we literally have plans next week
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 1,293,283 others
yourusername is this thing on? 🎤
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ynfan1 MOTHER IN THE STUDIO!!!!!
ynfan2 the last pic has me crying 😭😭 i just know she's about to be a menace
user2 if she's actually making a response song that's kinda pathetic
user3 right? her fans all say y/e is using her for fame but she's also doing it
yourbff let me hear it first
oscarpiastri i better get the link first
landonorris ignore both of them, i get first dibs
user1 THE DRAMA if she's making a response song lando better get out of there quick before he's her next victim
user4 WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE
ynfan3 all these haters camping on y/n's post omg she's so famous
ynfan4 WE LOVE YOU Y/N IGNORE THE LOSERS
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yourusername
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 1,428,372 others
yourusername my turn🩷
surprise! planned to keep these in the vault, but i guess things change. 'vicious' and 'eternal sunshine' live performances out now on youtube! studio version out friday 💋
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landonorris proud of you love 🤍
yourusername 🧡🧡🧡
ynfan2 OH MY GOD NO WAYYYYYYY
ynfan3 "my turn🩷" THAT'S MOTHERRRRRRRRR
ynfan1 love lando supporting her through it all that's a good man
ynfan4 SHE SPILLED Y/E IS SO DONE
yourbff i love you so much!!!
yourusername love you!!
user3 these songs are really good ... sorry for hating before
user1 some of y'all switching up in the comments, she could be lying!!
ynfan5 perhaps i misinterpreted the lyrics, but did y/e CHEAT ON HER???
ynfan3 pretty sure 👀
yourusername
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liked by yourbff, landonorris, and 1,391,283 others
yourusername it doesn't get, doesn't get better than this 🧡
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yourbff LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH
ynfan4 THESE HAVE TO BE LYRICS
ynfan3 more lover girl music coming soon LET'S GOOOOOOO
ynfan2 y/n writing her two shady songs about y/e then going back to writing cheesy love songs for lando we love to see it
landonorris how i obsessively adore you 🤍
ynfan2 y'all they're quoting future lyrics right in front of our faces i just know it
user3 it's not looking like a break up any time soon
oscarpiastri answer my texts
yourusername sorry been busy 🤭
oscarpiastri disgusting
yourusername NOT LIKE THAT.
ynfan5 Y/NLANDO WILL ALWAYS PROSPER
landonorris
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liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 1,028,832 others
landonorris we are never breaking up btw
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ynfan2 LMAOOOOOO
yourbff i'll have to break all of your bones if you ever hurt her
landonorris the scary thing is that i actually believe that you would
oscarpiastri hurt her and your life is over
landonorris DAMN DID Y'ALL READ THE CAPTION OR NO
user3 they're kinda growing on me y'all ...
ynfan4 everyone say we love you mom and dad
user4 worst news of my life
user2 i'm gonna be forced to like her this is terrible
yourusername thank god
landonorris if you leave me i think that i just might lose it completely
yourusername don't ever quote my songs at me again
1K notes · View notes
pucksandpower · 1 day ago
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Meant to be His
Day 30 → Innocence Kink 💋 CEO!Lando Norris
Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, breeding, and manipulation
Kinktober Masterlist
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Lando leans back in his sleek, black leather chair, eyes glued to the door of his office. It’s been like this for months now. You waltz in every morning, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of him, completely unaware that he’s one wrong word away from losing it.
He tightens his grip on his Montblanc pen, watching you through the glass wall as you flutter about the office, bow in your hair, soft pink dress neatly pressed, kitten heels clicking softly against the marble floors. Innocent. Always so damn innocent.
He’s sure it’s an act. It has to be.
“Mr. Norris, do you need anything else before your meeting at two?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts like it’s nothing, and the soft, sweet tone of it only aggravates him further.
Lando exhales sharply, spinning his chair back to face his computer, pretending to check an email that he isn’t actually reading. “No. I’m fine.”
There’s a pause. You’re still standing there, he can feel it. His jaw tightens. She’s waiting for something, but what? An opportunity to toy with him again, no doubt. He glances up, catching your eyes.
“You sure? You seem tense,” you ask, that genuine concern on your face so perfectly played. You look so innocent. But Lando doesn’t buy it. Not anymore.
“I’m sure,” he says flatly, forcing his voice to stay calm. You smile, nodding before heading out of his office, your perfume trailing behind like some kind of torture. Sweet, light, impossible to ignore.
His eyes follow you as you return to your desk, and for the life of him, Lando can’t figure out how you do it. How you manage to walk around here, day after day, pretending like none of it affects you. The looks, the way he tenses up every time you’re near, the way his pulse races when you lean over his desk just a little too close to hand him a file.
You. Must. Know.
But you carry on, head buried in textbooks between calls, your fingers skimming through pages of what looks like accounting formulas while you answer emails. How the hell does someone focus on their studies while managing the workload he throws at you? And always with that ridiculous little bow in your hair. It drives him insane.
His phone buzzes, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glances down.
Max: Dinner tonight?
Lando ignores the text. He can’t think about dinner right now. His attention is on you, watching the way your lips move when you hum softly to yourself, tapping away at your keyboard. Do you know what you’re doing? Do you have any idea?
No, of course you do. You’ve got him right where you want him — second-guessing everything. Lando feels his frustration simmering, the tight knot of control he keeps around his emotions starting to fray. He’s built his career on maintaining composure, being the one who’s always a step ahead, but this — you — are throwing him off balance.
He hates that.
“Hey.” His voice cuts through the stillness, sharp. He doesn’t know what he’s about to say, but he’s tired of staying silent. “Can you come in here for a second?”
You look up, slightly startled, and he watches as you smooth down your dress before stepping into his office. The door closes with a soft click behind you.
“Yes, Mr. Norris?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, eyes narrowing as he watches you. His thumb taps rhythmically on the arm of his chair, thoughts racing. Your tone is so polite, so professional, as if you’re not in the slightest aware of the mess you’ve made of him.
“That report — did you finish it?”
Your head tilts slightly, confused. “Yes, I emailed it to you this morning. Did you need something else added?”
“No.” Lando pauses, his eyes lingering on the bow in your hair. It's small, white, and so out of place in this cold, polished world of corporate dominance. Yet you wear it like it belongs. It makes him irrationally angry, but he can’t say why. “I got it. You can go.”
There’s that pause again, your eyes searching his face for something, but you don’t push. You never push. Instead, you nod politely and turn to leave, but something inside him snaps.
“Why do you do that?” His voice is harsher than he intends, but he doesn’t care.
You turn slowly, brows furrowed. “Do what?”
“That.” He gestures vaguely toward you, frustration bubbling over. “You walk around here like nothing bothers you. Always … smiling. Always so damn-” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He doesn’t want to say it, but it’s on the tip of his tongue. Innocent. Always so damn innocent. He grits his teeth instead. “Forget it.”
You blink, clearly taken aback. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”
The sincerity in your voice almost makes him feel guilty. Almost. But no, this is part of it, isn’t it? You play this innocent card so well, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to him. He stands abruptly, crossing the room in two quick strides until he’s standing in front of you.
“Wrong?” His voice lowers, eyes burning into yours. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
You look up at him, wide-eyed, still confused. “Then what-”
“You can go.” He cuts you off, voice tight, jaw clenched. “Get back to work.”
Your lips part as if to say something, but you close them again, giving him one last glance before nodding and stepping out of his office. The second the door closes, Lando exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair.
He’s losing control. He never loses control. Not like this. He doesn’t lose sleep over things he can’t have. That’s not who he is. But you — you’re making him unravel.
He moves back to his desk, his eyes once again finding you through the glass. You’ve already gone back to work like nothing happened, typing away, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him. How can you be so unaware?
Lando clenches his fists, determination settling in his chest. No, you’re not unaware. You can’t be. You’ve been playing this game for months, testing him, pushing him to the edge, making him question everything he’s built. But if this is a game, it’s one he’s determined to win.
This ends soon.
Whatever you’re doing — whether you’re aware of it or not — Lando is done letting it get to him. He’s done letting you have the upper hand.
It’s time to do something about it.
***
The morning sun filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lando’s office as he sits behind his desk, trying to drown himself in spreadsheets and stock analyses. But his focus wavers every few minutes, his eyes drifting toward your desk, watching you chew absentmindedly on the end of a pen while scrolling through emails. The quiet hum of the office is nothing more than white noise, and no matter how hard he tries, you’re there. In his head. In his line of sight.
He rubs the bridge of his nose, frustrated, trying to get a grip. Yesterday’s conversation replays in his mind, your wide-eyed confusion, the softness of your voice, the bow in your hair. He told himself he’d put an end to it, but now, here you are again, all cute dresses and innocence, as if you haven’t been driving him insane for months.
Then, he sees it.
You’ve unwrapped a lollipop, the plastic crackling softly as you slide it into your mouth, your lips closing around the candy in a way that feels intentional. Lando’s stomach tightens. His jaw clenches as he watches the slow swirl of your tongue around the stick. He knows he should look away, that he’s letting himself spiral, but his eyes stay locked on you. You’re concentrating on your screen, tapping at the keyboard, entirely oblivious to the effect you’re having on him.
He shifts in his chair, feeling the sudden constriction in his pants, the tightness unbearable. His breath comes harder, shallow. He balls his fists on the desk, eyes narrowing. That’s it. He’s had enough.
He stands abruptly, the chair scraping behind him. His body moves before his mind catches up, the determination settling into his steps as he crosses the office in long, forceful strides. He doesn’t even bother knocking. He doesn’t need to. He owns this place.
“Come into my office,” he says, voice low, tight.
You look up, startled, your lips still wrapped around the lollipop. “Now?”
“Now.”
You blink, eyes wide as you quickly nod, pulling the candy from your mouth and holding it awkwardly between your fingers. You stand, smoothing out your dress as you follow him, heels clicking softly behind him.
The second you step inside, he closes the door with a deliberate, heavy thud. His office feels smaller today, the air thick, charged. He doesn’t even look at you as he walks to his desk, his movements sharp, controlled, as if he’s barely holding onto the last threads of his restraint.
“Did I — did I do something wrong?” Your voice is soft, confused, and that only makes it worse. How could you be so unaware? How could you stand there, looking at him like that, when he’s been on edge for weeks?
Lando’s silence hangs heavy between you, and you shift nervously, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. That innocent little dress that clings to your waist just enough to remind him of every single curve.
“If I’ve made a mistake-”
He cuts you off with a sharp movement, his arm sweeping across the desk, sending papers, pens, and his phone crashing to the floor in one swift motion. The noise echoes through the office, loud, final.
You jump, eyes wide, taking a step back. “Mr. Norris-”
“Enough.” His voice is deep, guttural, and he steps toward you, crowding your space, forcing you backward until your thighs bump against the edge of the now-cleared desk. “You think you can keep teasing me, walking around here like this?”
Your eyes widen, genuine confusion etched on your face. “I-I’m not — I didn’t-”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.” His hands find your hips, fingers digging in just hard enough to keep you there, to stop you from retreating. You’re trapped, and he knows it. He’s planned it. His frustration, his anger — it’s all coming to a head, and there’s no going back now. “With your little dresses, your bows, that sweet little act. All of it.”
Your breath hitches, and for a second, Lando thinks he sees it — something flicker in your eyes. But then your voice, soft and trembling, breaks the moment. “I haven’t-”
“Innocent,” he spits the word like it’s a curse, fingers tightening on your waist. “Always so innocent. But if you’re going to act like that, you better be ready to pay for it.”
Your eyes dart to the door, panic creeping into your expression. “Mr. Norris, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I swear, I-”
Before you can finish, he pushes you down onto the desk, the cool surface pressing against your back. His hands slide up your thighs, bunching the fabric of your dress as he leans over you, breath hot against your ear.
“You really think I believe that? You’ve been teasing me for months. The way you look at me, the way you walk around in those outfits like you don’t know what it does to me.” He’s practically growling now, his control slipping further with every word. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
“I haven’t-” You shake your head, breath coming faster, your voice breaking. “I swear, I didn’t mean to-”
He cuts you off with a hand on your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher, exposing the soft skin of your legs. His breath catches in his throat as he finally sees it — the tiny bows decorating the edges of your underwear. Innocent, delicate, just like everything else about you.
“Of course,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, his voice dark with disbelief. “Even your underwear has bows.”
You look up at him, eyes wide, lips trembling as you try to form words, but nothing comes out. You’re confused, scared even, but Lando’s mind is too clouded with months of frustration to see it clearly. All he knows is that you’ve pushed him too far, and now he’s about to push back.
Lando’s fingers toy with the delicate bows on your underwear, his grip tightening, anger laced with disbelief. Every detail of you, from your soft lips to the innocent little things you wear — it all feels designed to torment him. And now, this. The proof in the form of those bows only furthers his conviction that it’s all some calculated game. You have to be messing with him.
“Why would you wear something like this?” His voice is low, dark, as he tugs at the fabric just enough to make you gasp, your body trembling under his. “It’s pathetic. Like you’re trying to act sweet and untouched, but we both know the truth.”
Your eyes are wide, pleading, but you don’t say anything. Lando’s face hardens as he looks down at you. He doesn’t believe a word you’ve said — how could he? He knows the games women play, knows how they can hide behind innocent faces while pulling the strings behind the scenes. You’re no different. You can’t be.
But he needs to be sure.
Lando leans over you, his body pressing down on yours as his hands slide higher, pulling your underwear aside. The fabric moves easily, but what he finds next stops him cold.
His fingers pause, eyes narrowing as he pushes a little further, a soft pressure meeting his touch. His pulse quickens. For a second, his brain can’t quite process what he’s feeling. There’s no way. Not you.
He pushes a little harder, confirming what his mind refuses to accept. You tense beneath him, your breath shaky, and that’s when it hits him like a truck.
You’re a virgin.
A wave of shock floods through him, wiping away the rage that had been bubbling up inside. His mind races, trying to reconcile the idea of you — the teasing, innocent act he thought you’d been playing — with the reality of what he’s just discovered. You’ve never been touched. Not by him. Not by anyone.
He pulls back slightly, staring down at you in disbelief. “You're serious.” His voice comes out harsher than intended, but it’s the only thing that manages to escape his mouth. His breath hitches as the realization fully settles.
Your lips part, trembling. “I-I told you,” you whisper, barely able to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t … I didn’t …”
Lando stares at you, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in his mind. The shy looks, the blushing, the fidgeting. It wasn’t an act. You really are innocent. You’re untouched. Pure. And all this time, he’d been imagining the worst. Misreading every single thing about you.
A flood of possessiveness surges through him, stronger than anything he’s ever felt. He’s the first. He’s going to be the only one. His hands slide up your body, slower this time, deliberate. You’re his now. Completely. You’ve always been his, but now it’s clear. He’ll make sure of it.
“You're mine,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. His eyes burn into yours as he leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Do you understand that?”
You swallow hard, nodding slightly, though your face is still a mix of fear and confusion. He doesn’t care. You’ll understand soon enough.
He reaches for the lollipop laying abandoned on the desk, the one you had been sucking on earlier. Without breaking eye contact, he brings it to his mouth, licking the candy slowly, his tongue swirling around it just as he’d imagined watching you do the same. It’s sweet, just like you.
Then, without warning, he presses the lollipop back to your lips, his eyes darkening. “Open your mouth,” he orders softly.
You hesitate for a second, but his gaze is unrelenting, powerful, and you obey. Your lips part slowly, and he slips the lollipop into your mouth, watching with satisfaction as you close your lips around it. There’s something primal in the way he watches you now, the way your innocence only fuels the possessiveness raging inside him.
He leans down, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. “Don’t leave after work today,” he whispers, the words rough and commanding. “You’re coming home with me.”
You let out a shaky breath, eyes wide, but you don’t protest. You don’t argue. You just look up at him, the lollipop still between your lips, and nod. He smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek before pulling back, taking in the sight of you sprawled on his desk, dress bunched around your thighs, your lips wrapped around the candy he gave you.
His.
All of you.
***
The hours after Lando’s quiet command crawl by at a pace that feels like torture. He watches you from his office, stealing glances through the glass partition. You’re fidgety, distracted, clearly unsettled by what transpired. Your fingers keep brushing the spot on your lips where his lollipop had been, your gaze downcast, stealing anxious looks toward his office door. He finds it hard to focus on anything else, his mind swirling with the anticipation of what’s coming.
Finally, the workday ends. The usual shuffle of employees packing up to leave passes in a blur for him, and when he sees you stand to collect your things, his heart kicks into overdrive. This is it.
You look hesitant as you walk toward the door, but Lando meets you in the hallway before you can even reach for your coat. His voice is quiet, commanding, as he speaks. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”
You don’t say a word, just nod and follow him. It’s all you can do. You’re out of your element, swept up in a current you don’t understand, but something about his presence makes resistance feel impossible.
The elevator ride down to the underground parking lot is thick with tension. He can feel your anxiety radiating off you in waves, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. His hand rests on the small of your back as you step out, guiding you to his sleek McLaren. The doors unlock with a soft click, and he gestures for you to get in.
Once inside, the car roars to life with a low, throaty hum as Lando pulls out of the parking garage, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as they hit the road. For a while, the drive is silent, save for the soft purr of the engine and the occasional sound of your nervous breath.
Lando’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, but he allows one hand to drift away, resting on the center console. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re staring out the window, fingers twisting in your lap, the tension in your shoulders palpable. His gaze lowers, following the line of your thighs beneath your dress, and something in him snaps.
Slowly, deliberately, he lets his hand fall to your knee, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. The effect is immediate — you stiffen, your breath catching in your throat, but you don’t move. You don’t push him away.
His hand stays there, warm and firm, his thumb tracing slow circles on your thigh as he drives. He doesn’t speak, but the weight of his touch says more than words could. It’s a reminder, a promise. You’re his now, and tonight, he’s going to make sure you know it.
The tension between you both is electric, humming in the space between his hand on your leg and your racing pulse. You bite your lip, a futile attempt to steady your breath, but Lando can sense it — the nervous anticipation that’s eating at you, the mix of fear and something else, something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge.
The drive is short, the distance between his office and his penthouse a blur. Before you know it, he’s pulling into the private garage beneath his building. The McLaren comes to a smooth stop, and Lando kills the engine, the silence that follows heavy and oppressive.
“Let’s go,” he says quietly, stepping out of the car and coming around to your side before you can even unbuckle your seatbelt. He opens the door for you, his hand outstretched. You hesitate for only a second before placing your hand in his, allowing him to help you out.
His grip tightens as he leads you toward the private elevator. The doors close behind you with a soft hiss, and the moment you’re sealed inside the confined space, you feel his presence even more intensely. His hand slides up your back, fingers pressing into the curve of your spine as the elevator ascends.
When the doors slide open again, you’re in his penthouse — a sprawling space of glass and steel, modern and minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. But you don’t have time to take it in. Lando’s hand is still on your back, guiding you through the entryway, through the open living space, until you’re standing in the middle of his bedroom.
The door clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing through the large, empty space. You can hear your own breath, shallow and quick, the thud of your pulse loud in your ears. But Lando is calm, methodical, as he steps in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face.
“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding.
Your legs feel weak, but you take a step forward. His hands find your waist immediately, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your temple as he presses a kiss to your hairline.
“Do you know what happens now?” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You shake your head, barely able to think, let alone respond. Lando pulls back just enough to look down at you, his expression unreadable. “You’re mine. I told you that.”
You nod, swallowing hard, unable to speak. You can feel his hands moving again, tugging at the hem of your dress, pulling it up slowly, exposing more and more of your skin until it’s bunched around your waist. You gasp softly, feeling his hands on your bare thighs again, the same spot he’d touched in the car, but now his touch is more urgent, more possessive.
He pushes you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress as he leans over you, his eyes dark and focused. “I’m going to make sure of it,” he murmurs, his hands slipping beneath your thighs, spreading them apart as he positions himself between your legs.
Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers find the barrier again, that small, fragile proof of your innocence. He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at you.
“You really were telling the truth.” His voice is low, almost disbelieving, as if the idea of you being untouched still doesn’t fully compute in his mind. He’s quiet for a moment, and then his expression shifts, a dark, possessive gleam entering his eyes. “You’re mine,” he whispers again, and this time, there’s no doubt in his voice.
You let out a shaky breath, your eyes filling with tears, overwhelmed by everything — the intensity of his gaze, the feel of his hands on you, the weight of what’s happening. A tear slips down your cheek, and Lando’s lips are on you immediately, kissing it away, his breath warm and soft against your skin.
“Shh,” he coos, his voice soft now, almost tender as he kisses your tears. “Don’t cry. You’re all mine now, and I’m going to take care of you. I promise.”
His hands are gentle as he pushes through the barrier, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. You let out a soft, broken gasp, and Lando leans down to kiss you, swallowing the sound as he moves deeper. His lips trail over your cheek, your jaw, your neck, kissing away every tear, every bit of hesitation.
Lando’s grip on your hips tightens, his breath coming in slow, deliberate waves as he watches your every move. There’s a fierce, possessive satisfaction in his eyes as he presses further into you, feeling the way your body reacts, the soft gasps escaping your lips, the way your fingers curl into the sheets. He’s in complete control, and that’s exactly how he wants it.
You’re his now. Completely. And he’s going to be the first — the only one — to take you over the edge. That thought alone sends a surge of pride through him, dark and possessive. The world has never touched you the way he’s about to. You’re untainted, and he’s going to keep it that way.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice low and rough as his hand finds your chin, tilting your face toward him. Your eyes flutter open, wide and unsure, still glistening from the tears he kissed away moments ago. There’s an innocence in your gaze, a vulnerability that cuts through the sharp edge of his dominance for a moment, but he pushes that aside. He wants you to look at him — not in fear, but in understanding.
“This is how it’s going to be,” Lando murmurs, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he holds your gaze. “I’m the only one who gets to do this. No one else. Ever. Do you understand?”
You nod, your breath catching in your throat, and he smirks. “Say it,” he demands, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Say that you’re mine.”
“I-I’m yours,” you whisper, your voice shaking, but there’s something else in it now. A tremor of something more than fear — something closer to surrender.
“That’s right.” He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as his voice drops to a whisper. “You belong to me. And I’m going to show you exactly what that means.”
He moves deliberately, his hands sliding down your body, claiming every inch of you as he goes. His touch is firm, authoritative, yet maddeningly slow, building a tension between you that leaves you trembling beneath him. Lando can feel the way your body reacts to him, the way you instinctively arch into his touch, even though you try to hold back. It makes him smile, dark and knowing. You might be innocent, but your body is learning quickly. It’s beginning to respond to him, just like he knew it would.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his hand sliding between your thighs, teasing, as his fingers brush lightly against your skin. “You want this. I can feel it.”
You make a soft sound in the back of your throat, a shaky, half-swallowed whimper, but you don’t pull away. You don’t deny it. Because deep down, even if you don’t want to admit it, you do want this. You want him. He knows it.
Lando’s lips curve into a satisfied smirk as he continues his slow, torturous movements, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm with the soft gasps that escape your lips. He watches every flicker of emotion on your face, every shiver that runs through you as he pushes you closer to the edge. You’re so close — he can feel it.
“I can feel you trembling,” he whispers, his voice dark and seductive as he leans down, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “You’re almost there, aren’t you? You’ve never felt this before, have you?”
You shake your head, your breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps now, and Lando feels a rush of satisfaction. He’s right. No one else has ever brought you this close. No one else has ever touched you like this. And no one else ever will.
“I’m going to be the first,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck as his hand moves with agonizing precision, his fingers coaxing soft, breathless sounds from you. “The only one to make you feel this way. Do you know how good it’s going to feel, baby? How good I’m going to make you feel?”
Your only response is a soft whimper, your body arching beneath him as you inch closer to that tipping point. Lando can feel it in the way your body moves, the way your fingers clutch at the sheets, desperate for something to hold on to. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, his voice barely a whisper.
“Don’t hold back,” he coos, his voice dark and commanding. “I want to see you fall apart for me.”
His words send a shiver through you, and Lando can feel the way you’re teetering on the edge, the way your body is trembling, so close, so painfully close. But he doesn’t let up. He won’t let you slip away from this.
And then, with a deliberate, calculated move, he pushes you over the edge.
The gasp that leaves your lips is soft, broken, and Lando watches with dark satisfaction as your body tenses, your eyes squeezing shut as you finally fall. He keeps his touch steady, guiding you through it, his voice low and soothing as he coaxes you through the overwhelming rush of sensations.
“There it is,” he murmurs, his hand still moving in that same, steady rhythm. “Let it happen. Let me see you.”
Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps as your body trembles beneath him, and Lando can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips. He’s the first to do this to you. He’s the only one who ever will.
As you come down from the high, your body slowly relaxing, Lando’s hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He leans down, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice soft but firm. “And I’ll never let you forget that.”
You don’t respond, your breath still shaky as you lie beneath him, your body completely spent. But Lando doesn’t need a response. He knows you understand. You belong to him now, in every way that matters.
***
Lando wakes early, the soft light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains in his penthouse bedroom. The city outside is still and quiet, a far cry from the chaos of the day that is yet to begin. He blinks, his eyes adjusting to the gentle light, and then his gaze falls on you, lying beside him, still asleep.
The sight of you — curled up under the covers, your breathing slow and peaceful — does something to him. It’s as if, in sleep, you’ve become even more vulnerable, even more innocent. Your face is relaxed, lips slightly parted, your hair falling messily across the pillow. There’s a softness to you now, a contrast to the tension that had filled the air between you both the night before.
Lando’s chest tightens as he watches you, his mind racing. How could someone like you, with your wide-eyed innocence and shy demeanor, have this kind of effect on him? He’d never wanted anyone like this before, never felt this need to possess, to claim. But with you, it’s different. It’s all-consuming.
You stir slightly, shifting beneath the covers, and Lando feels his pulse quicken. Even in sleep, you’re irresistible to him. He can’t stop looking at you, drinking in every detail — your soft skin, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you dream.
He feels the pull again, that deep, primal urge to claim you in every possible way. He wants to feel you, fully, like he never has before. The thought sends a wave of heat through him, and before he can stop himself, his hand is moving, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His fingers trail softly down your cheek, barely touching, but even that small contact ignites something inside him.
You don’t stir, still lost in sleep, and Lando’s gaze darkens. He’s always in control, always dominant — but there’s something about the idea of taking you like this, of being the first to truly have you, that sends his desire spiraling out of control.
Slowly, deliberately, Lando shifts closer to you, careful not to wake you. His hand moves down your body, sliding under the covers, fingers grazing your skin. He inhales deeply, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your warmth, your softness. You shift slightly again, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you don’t wake.
“Shh,” Lando whispers under his breath, his voice barely audible. “Just stay like that, baby.”
His hand moves lower, slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, and he feels you tremble slightly in your sleep. He’s gentle, careful not to startle you, but he can’t deny the hunger building inside him, the way his body aches to be closer to you.
You stir again, your body instinctively shifting toward his touch, and Lando bites back a groan. The feel of you — soft, warm, so completely vulnerable — drives him to the edge. He leans down, pressing his lips to your neck, kissing the delicate skin just beneath your ear.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice dark and low. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”
He pulls back, just enough to see your face again. You’re still asleep, still completely unaware of the effect you have on him, and something about that only spurs him on. He slides his hand down further, positioning himself between your legs, his breath coming in slow, deliberate breaths as he moves.
He’s careful, so careful, not to wake you. This is his moment, the one he’s been waiting for. He pushes forward slowly, his body tense with anticipation, his heart pounding in his chest. You let out a soft, barely audible whimper in your sleep, but you don’t wake.
Lando’s jaw tightens as he feels the first resistance, the proof of your innocence, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, letting the satisfaction wash over him. You’re really his. No one else has ever been this close to you, no one else has ever taken this from you. And now, it’s his.
He moves slowly, savoring every second, every soft sound that escapes your lips. You shift beneath him, your body instinctively reacting to his touch, and Lando’s grip tightens on your hip, holding you still.
“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice thick with need. “Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.”
You stir slightly, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he moves deeper, but your eyes stay closed. Lando watches your face intently, his breath shallow, his entire focus on you. You’re so tight, so perfect, and the way your body responds to him only fuels his desire.
He moves carefully, slowly, not wanting to hurt you, but the heat between you both is undeniable. His control is slipping, and he knows it. But he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop. Not until he’s completely inside you, not until he’s claimed you fully.
Your body tenses as he pushes further, a soft moan escaping your lips, and Lando bites down on his bottom lip, trying to stay focused, trying to hold back. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you — not yet. But the feel of you around him, the way your body tightens and trembles beneath his touch, drives him wild.
You make another soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and your eyes flutter open, just barely. You’re still half-asleep, your gaze unfocused, but you feel him now. You feel what he’s doing.
“L-Lando?” You whisper, your voice barely audible, thick with sleep and confusion.
“Shh,” Lando soothes, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just relax, baby. I’ve got you.”
You shift slightly beneath him, your brows furrowing in confusion, but you don’t pull away. Lando watches your face carefully, his breath hot against your skin as he moves deeper, taking his time, savoring every inch of you.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “Just let me in. Let me have all of you.”
You let out a soft whimper, your body instinctively arching toward him, and Lando feels a surge of pride. You might not fully understand what’s happening, but your body is responding to him in exactly the way he wants.
“That’s it,” he breathes, his hand moving to your cheek, brushing his thumb over your lips. “You’re mine, remember? All mine.”
Your eyes flutter closed again, a soft sigh escaping your lips as Lando finally pushes all the way in, feeling the last bit of resistance give way. He’s inside you now, fully, completely, and the satisfaction that rushes through him is almost overwhelming.
For a moment, he stays still, just savoring the feel of you, the way your body trembles beneath him, the way your breath comes in soft, uneven gasps. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand cradling your face.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”
You make a soft, breathless sound, your hands instinctively reaching for him, your fingers brushing against his chest. Lando smiles, dark and satisfied, as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, his body pressing against yours with every thrust.
Lando watches the way you shift beneath him, the way you tense and relax with every movement. You’re unraveling, slowly, in his hands, and there’s something so intensely gratifying about it that he can’t help the dark, satisfied smirk that pulls at his lips.
He moves deliberately, controlling the rhythm, controlling you. Every thrust is measured, precise, pushing you closer to the edge while keeping you right where he wants you. He can feel it — feel the way you’re struggling to hold on, feel the way your breathing becomes more erratic, the way your fingers clutch at him, desperate, uncertain.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” Lando murmurs, his voice rough and commanding as he watches your face. Your eyes flutter open, wide and unfocused, your lips parting as you try to catch your breath. But you don’t answer, can’t answer — your body is too consumed by the sensations he’s drawing out of you.
He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you say it,” he growls softly, his hand gripping your hip as he presses deeper into you. “Tell me how close you are. Tell me how badly you want this.”
“I — Lando-” Your voice is a shaky whisper, breathless and uncertain, and Lando smirks again. You can barely speak, barely string two words together, but that’s exactly how he wants you. He wants you undone, unraveling in his hands, unable to think of anything but him.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your side, his touch firm and possessive. “I know you’re close. I can feel it.”
He moves faster now, his hips grinding into yours as he keeps the rhythm steady, watching your every reaction. You’re trembling beneath him, your body responding to him in ways that make his chest swell with pride. Every soft whimper, every sharp intake of breath — it’s all because of him. And he loves it.
“You feel that?” Lando murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s me. I’m the only one who’ll ever make you feel this way.”
Your body arches beneath him, and Lando can see the way you’re fighting to hold on, the way you’re trying to keep control. But he won’t let you. He’s not done with you yet.
He slows his movements slightly, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge but not enough to push you over. You let out a frustrated whimper, your fingers digging into his arms as you try to pull him closer, but Lando just smirks, keeping you right where he wants you.
“Not yet,” he whispers, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’ll come when I say you can.”
Your eyes flutter shut again, and Lando can see the tension building inside you. He watches the way your chest rises and falls, the way your lips part in desperate, breathless gasps, and he knows you’re on the verge of falling apart.
But he holds you there, just on the brink, savoring the way your body reacts to him, the way you’re completely at his mercy. It’s intoxicating, the power he holds over you.
“I can feel how badly you want it,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl as he moves his hand between your legs, teasing you with soft, deliberate touches. “But you’re going to wait. You’re going to wait for me.”
You make a soft, pleading sound, your body trembling beneath him, and Lando’s grip tightens on your hip, holding you steady as he starts to move again, his pace slow and deliberate. He watches every flicker of emotion on your face, the way your brow furrows, the way your lips part as you struggle to breathe through the overwhelming sensations.
“You can take it,” he whispers, his voice dark and commanding. “You can take everything I give you.”
You’re so close now, so impossibly close, and Lando can feel it — the way your body tightens around him, the way your breath catches in your throat as you inch closer to the edge. But he’s not letting you fall yet. Not until he’s ready.
“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “The only one who gets to take you apart like this.”
His words send a shiver through you, and Lando can feel the way your body responds to him, the way you arch into his touch, desperate for release. He’s holding you on the edge, keeping you there, and the power rushes through him like a drug.
“Please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, breathless and pleading. “Lando, please-”
He smirks, dark and satisfied. That’s what he wanted. He wanted you begging for it, wanting it as badly as he does.
“You want to come?” He growls softly, his grip tightening on your hip as he moves faster, his thrusts deeper, harder. “You want me to let you come?”
You nod, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you try to hold on, your body trembling beneath him.
“Say it,” Lando demands, his voice rough and commanding. “Tell me how much you want it.”
“I-I want it,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you clutch at him, your fingers digging into his arms. “Please, Lando — please let me come.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride as he watches you unravel beneath him. “Come for me. Let me see you fall apart.”
And with that, he pushes you over the edge.
Your body tenses, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure crashes over you in waves. Lando watches every second, his grip firm on your hips as you arch beneath him, your breath coming in soft, broken gasps. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow his movements as he guides you through it, his breath coming in slow, deliberate waves as he watches you fall apart in his hands.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he keeps moving, keeps pushing you. “You’re doing so well. Just let it happen.”
You make a soft, broken sound, your body trembling beneath him as the pleasure washes over you, and Lando feels a rush of satisfaction. You’re his. Completely, utterly his.
But he’s not done.
As you come down from the high, your body slowly relaxing, Lando’s grip tightens on your hips again. He’s close now — so close he can feel it building inside him, the tension coiling in his muscles as he moves faster, harder, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.
“Look at me,” he growls, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing your gaze up to meet his. “I want to see your face when I take you.”
Your eyes flutter open, wide and unfocused, and Lando groans at the sight of you — flushed, trembling, completely undone. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.
“I’m going to come inside you,” he murmurs, his voice rough as he moves faster, his body tensing as the pleasure builds. “You’re going to take all of me. Do you understand?”
You nod, your breath shaky, your fingers clutching at his arms as you try to keep up with him.
“Good girl,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine. All mine.”
With one final, deep thrust, Lando feels the tension snap, the pleasure crashing over him as he finally lets go. He groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he comes inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it.
For a moment, he stays still, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts as he comes down from the high. He watches you, your body still trembling beneath him, your breath coming in soft, uneven gasps.
And then, slowly, carefully, he pulls back, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.
“You were meant to be mine,” he whispers again, his voice soft but firm. “And I’m never letting you go.”
You don’t respond, your body completely spent, but Lando knows you understand. You belong to him now, in every way that matters.
***
Lando lies beside you, his chest pressed against your back, a comforting warmth in the quiet aftermath. The soft sheets cling to both of you, and he can feel your heartbeat gradually slowing, returning to a steady rhythm as you begin to relax in his arms. His fingers lightly trace the curve of your lips, a subtle smirk playing at his own.
There's something so innocent about the way you look right now — your eyelashes fluttering gently as if you’re dreaming, the soft rise and fall of your chest. He wants to savor it, the moment of peace after everything, but he’s far from done.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from the lingering remnants of passion. You blink slowly, your gaze focusing on him, a small smile tugging at your lips. The look you give him is so tender, so trusting, it makes his chest tighten in a way he’s not used to. Vulnerability looks good on you, he thinks.
“You’re still awake,” Lando continues, his fingers brushing over your lips before moving to caress your jaw. He shifts his body closer to yours, resting his head on his hand as he looks down at you. “What were you thinking about?”
You blink again, your lips parting to speak, but before you can answer, he tilts his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What are you studying at university, again?”
There’s a brief pause, and he watches as you seem to collect your thoughts. “Business economics,” you say softly, almost shyly. “I’m in my second year.”
He raises an eyebrow, his hand still trailing lazily across your skin. “Business economics?” There’s a note of surprise in his voice, but more than that, there’s something else — something almost dismissive.
You nod, your eyes flicking to his, unsure of what he’s thinking. “Yeah, I mean … it’s interesting. And it’s practical. I thought-”
“Why?” Lando interrupts, his voice cutting through the air like a knife, making you pause mid-sentence. His tone is calm, controlled, but there’s an underlying tension there, something that makes you hesitate.
“What do you mean?” You ask, confused, your brow furrowing slightly.
“Why are you wasting your time on that?” Lando’s fingers stop their gentle tracing and move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes locked on yours. “You don’t need a degree.”
You stare at him for a moment, the words sinking in. There’s a silence that stretches between you, and Lando can feel the subtle shift in your energy, the way your body tenses just slightly, like you’re gearing up for some sort of protest. But before you can speak, he continues.
“I’ll take care of you,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “You don’t need to worry about school, or work, or any of that. I’ve got more than enough for the both of us.” He pauses, watching your reaction, waiting for the inevitable pushback. “Why would you bother with a degree when you have me?”
There’s a flicker of something in your eyes — uncertainty, maybe even hesitation. You open your mouth to say something, but the words die on your tongue. Lando’s hand moves to rest on your thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin, a silent reminder of the control he holds.
“I … I don’t know, I just …”
“You don’t need to worry about it,” Lando interrupts, his voice smooth, reassuring, yet unyielding. “I’ve got everything handled. I’ll take care of you. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
You swallow hard, trying to process his words, trying to reconcile the offer of security with the dream you’ve been working toward. “But I like studying …”
Lando’s hand moves down your thigh, his grip tightening slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make a point. “Do you?” He murmurs, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Or are you just doing it because you think you need to?”
You blink, caught off guard by the question, and he takes advantage of the moment. His hand slips further down, his fingers brushing between your legs, a slow, deliberate movement that leaves no room for argument.
“Lando-”
“Hush,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a faint smile as he leans down, his mouth hovering just over yours. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. You don’t need that degree. You’ve got me now.”
His fingers move with practiced ease, and you gasp, your body betraying you as you react to his touch. Any coherent thought slips away as he works you over, your head falling back against the pillow, your body arching into him.
“You’re going to quit,” Lando says, his voice calm but firm, a quiet command that brooks no argument. “You’re not going back to school.”
You shake your head, or maybe you don’t — it’s hard to tell anymore, everything feels hazy, your mind clouded by the sensations coursing through you. But Lando doesn’t care. He’s already decided.
“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers press harder, drawing another breathless moan from your lips. “You’re going to quit.”
“I … I don’t …” Your voice is weak, shaky, barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.
Lando’s grip tightens, and he moves his body over yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you, reminding you of who’s in control.
“Say it,” he repeats, his tone sharper now, more insistent. “You’re going to quit.”
Your breath hitches, your body trembling beneath him as you struggle to form a coherent response. But he doesn’t let up. His touch is relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, until you can’t think of anything but the way he’s making you feel.
“Lando … please …”
“Say it,” he demands again, his voice a low growl. “Tell me you’re quitting. Tell me you don’t need that degree.”
Your body arches beneath him, your mind a blur of confusion and pleasure, and finally, finally, the words tumble from your lips, broken and breathless.
“I … I’ll quit. I’ll quit.”
Lando smirks, satisfied, as he watches you unravel beneath him, your body trembling with the force of your release. He doesn’t stop, not yet, not until he’s sure you’re completely spent, until there’s nothing left of you but the quiet, trembling aftermath.
When it’s over, he pulls back slightly, his hand moving to cup your jaw as he looks down at you, his eyes dark and possessive. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”
You don’t respond, too exhausted, too overwhelmed to speak, and Lando chuckles softly, his hand slipping from your jaw to rest on your chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of your breath.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says quietly, his voice low and soothing now, as if he’s trying to comfort you. “You don’t need to worry about anything anymore. I’ve got you.”
There’s a part of you that still wants to argue, still wants to push back against his words, but it’s a small, quiet part, drowned out by the overwhelming sense of relief and security that Lando offers.
And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.
Maybe you don’t need that degree. Maybe you don’t need to worry about your future, because Lando is your future now.
He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady, reassuring presence of him beside you.
“I’ll take care of you,” Lando whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “Always.”
And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you, it’s easy to believe him.
***
Lando’s fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel of his McLaren as he pulls into the parking lot of your university. It’s a cloudy morning, the kind of gray that matches his mood.
He doesn’t want to be here — certainly doesn’t want to waste time with the formalities of this. But he knows it has to be done. He glances at you from the corner of his eye as the car comes to a smooth stop, his grip tightening for a moment.
You’ve been quiet since you left the penthouse, a subtle tension hanging in the air between the two of you. Lando notices the way your hands fidget in your lap, the way your gaze flicks nervously towards the university buildings. He doesn’t like it. You’ve already agreed to this; you’d already said you’d quit. This is just tying up loose ends, nothing more.
He shuts off the engine and leans back, turning his full attention to you. “You ready?”
You hesitate, and he doesn’t miss it. A small nod, your lips pressed together in uncertainty. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Good,” Lando says firmly, not giving any room for further discussion. He unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car, coming around to open your door for you. His hand slides possessively to the small of your back as he guides you toward the administration building. “Let’s get this over with.”
The university halls feel cold, sterile, as the two of you walk through them. It’s early, and the place hasn’t fully come alive yet. But the walls are lined with student posters, the smell of textbooks, and the quiet hum of academia that fills the space feels completely foreign to Lando. This world doesn’t fit you, he thinks. Not anymore. You belong with him.
The Dean’s office is tucked away in the corner of the building, and when you reach it, Lando notices how your steps slow slightly. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re sure about this, yes?”
You glance up at him, uncertainty flickering in your eyes for the briefest second. But then you nod. “I … yes. I’m sure.”
Lando smirks, satisfied. You’re just nervous, that’s all. He’s not worried. Not really.
The secretary outside the office lets you both in with a nod, and the Dean, a man in his early fifties with glasses perched on his nose, looks up from behind a stack of papers. He smiles at you as you enter, but his expression quickly shifts when he notices Lando standing beside you, his arm firmly around your waist.
“Miss Y/L/N,” the Dean says, his voice carrying a note of pleasant surprise. “What brings you here today?”
You shift awkwardly, glancing at Lando for a moment before speaking. “I … I’ve decided to withdraw from my program.”
The Dean’s brow furrows in confusion. He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on his desk. “Withdraw? Are you sure? You’re one of our most promising students. Your work in economics has been exemplary.”
Lando feels the slight tremor in your body, senses the moment of hesitation as you start to open your mouth, your gaze flicking back to the Dean. The man’s words clearly have an effect on you, and Lando doesn’t like it. His jaw clenches.
“I … I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” you start, your voice quiet. “I’m just not sure if this is the right path for me anymore.”
“Nonsense,” the Dean says, shaking his head. “You’ve made such incredible progress. You have a natural talent, and it would be a waste to throw it all away. You’re capable of so much more than just-”
“She’s not wasting anything,” Lando cuts in, his voice sharp and cold. He glares at the Dean, daring him to continue. The room falls silent for a moment, the tension palpable. “She’s made her decision.”
The Dean’s eyes flicker between the two of you, clearly noting the way Lando’s grip tightens around your waist, the way his presence dominates the space. He frowns, clearly displeased but unwilling to press further. “Miss Y/L/N,” he says carefully, “are you certain this is what you want?”
You hesitate, biting your lip, and Lando feels his frustration bubble up. He leans down, his lips close to your ear, his voice a quiet command. “Tell him you’ve already decided.”
You swallow hard, your body stiffening slightly before you nod again. “I’ve already decided.”
The Dean sighs, clearly reluctant, but he reaches for the necessary paperwork nonetheless. “If you’re sure,” he mutters, sliding the forms across the desk toward you. “You’ll need to sign here, and I’ll need a statement of withdrawal.”
As you reach for the pen, Lando keeps his arm firmly around your waist, watching carefully. He can still feel your unease, the way your hand trembles slightly as you begin to sign your name. But he knows this is the right decision. You don’t need this place. You need him.
The Dean watches silently, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly displeased. “It’s a shame,” he says after a moment, his eyes lingering on you. “You had such a bright future ahead of you. I hope you’re not making a mistake.”
Lando’s jaw tightens. He can see the way your fingers falter over the paper, the way the Dean’s words make you second-guess yourself. Before you can say anything, Lando steps in again, his voice cutting through the tension.
“She’s not,” Lando says firmly, his eyes locked on the Dean with a warning edge. “She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.”
The Dean doesn’t reply, only nods curtly as he gathers the signed forms. Lando watches as you hand them back, your face a mix of emotions — confusion, doubt, and something else he can’t quite place.
As soon as the paperwork is done, Lando wastes no time. He pulls you close to him, practically ushering you out of the office. You cast one last glance at the Dean, but Lando’s hand tightens on your waist, his fingers pressing into your side in a way that leaves no room for lingering thoughts.
Once you’re out in the hallway, Lando’s tone softens slightly, though the control in his voice remains. “It’s done. No turning back now.”
You nod, but he can tell your thoughts are still drifting, still caught up in what the Dean said. That won’t do. Lando knows he needs to distract you, shift your focus back where it belongs — on him.
“There’s an Hermès store nearby,” Lando says casually as the two of you walk toward the parking lot. His tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s an underlying purpose behind his words. “I’ve been thinking … you’d look adorable with one of their twilly scarves tied in your hair. Maybe even a matching Birkin.” He glances down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What do you think?”
You blink, momentarily thrown by the abrupt change in topic. “I … I don’t know.”
Lando’s grip on your waist loosens slightly as he moves his hand up to brush your hair back from your face. “Trust me. You’d love it. And I’d love seeing you with a cute little bow tied in your hair. It would suit you.”
You can’t help but smile, though it’s small and unsure. The shift in conversation, the mention of luxury, seems to distract you enough, pulling your thoughts away from the earlier doubt. That’s exactly what Lando wants. He needs you focused on him, not on whatever misplaced ambitions the Dean tried to stir up.
“I’ll take you shopping,” Lando continues smoothly as he opens the passenger door of his car for you. “We’ll find something perfect. After all, you deserve it.”
He watches as you slide into the seat, your expression still tinged with uncertainty but softened by the promise of something new, something exciting. Lando can feel the satisfaction curling inside him. He’s got you exactly where he wants you.
As he rounds the car and slides into the driver’s seat, he shoots you a quick glance, his hand already moving to rest on your thigh, a silent reminder of his control. “You won’t regret any of this,” he says quietly, his voice filled with certainty. “You’re mine now. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”
You don’t respond, but the way you lean into his touch tells him all he needs to know. He starts the engine, the roar of the McLaren filling the air as he pulls out of the university parking lot.
***
Each day seems to fall into a rhythm. Lando likes control, and now he’s exerting it over your life, molding it to fit his own. You’re no longer rushing to university or working long hours at his company. Instead, you’re left to fill your days with something else, though Lando never lets it be anything without him at the center of it.
It didn’t take long for you to find a new routine. It started the first day after you withdrew from school. You spent the morning pacing around Lando’s penthouse, the sprawling space eerily quiet without him there. His presence filled the place even when he wasn’t around, but it still felt empty without him.
By noon, you found yourself in the kitchen, your hands moving on instinct, putting together a lunch that reminded you of simpler times. You thought about surprising him at work, the idea sparking a tiny thrill in you. Maybe he’d like the surprise.
You had no idea how much he would love it.
Now, you’re in his office every day without fail. Each morning is spent in careful preparation — choosing the perfect outfit, something that Lando would appreciate. You know how much he loves your bows, so you always make sure to tie one into your hair. Your dresses are carefully selected from the expansive closet he’s stocked for you, all designer, all perfectly tailored to accentuate your innocence, your softness. It’s what he likes. It’s what keeps him satisfied.
Today is no different. You step off the elevator into his building, a picnic basket swinging delicately in your hand. The security guard already knows you by name, offering a polite nod as you pass by, though you can’t miss the curious glance he throws at the basket.
When you reach Lando’s office, his assistant greets you with a knowing smile. “He’s in a meeting,” she tells you, her voice pleasant. “But you can go in. He always makes time for you.”
You smile back, nodding your thanks, and push open the door to his private office. The space is immaculate, modern, with sleek lines and floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city. It screams power, control, everything that Lando is.
He’s seated at his desk, deep in conversation with a group of executives who are standing across from him, discussing something about market shares. But the moment you step inside, his eyes flick up to meet yours, and everything else in the room seems to fall away.
“Gentlemen,” Lando interrupts smoothly, not bothering to hide the way his gaze lingers on you. “That’ll be all for now.”
There’s a moment of hesitation from the executives, confusion flashing across their faces at the abrupt end to the meeting. But Lando’s tone leaves no room for debate. They gather their papers, nodding respectfully as they file out, each of them casting curious glances your way as they leave.
Once the door clicks shut, Lando leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. The picnic basket, the way your dress hugs your figure, the bow in your hair — it’s all exactly as he likes it.
“Come here,” he orders, his voice low but commanding. You don’t hesitate, crossing the room toward him, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
Lando doesn’t say anything as you set the basket down on the edge of his desk, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze as he watches every move you make. He doesn’t even look at the food; his focus is entirely on you.
He reaches out, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer until you’re standing between his legs, his chair swiveling slightly as he turns toward you. His other hand moves to the hem of your dress, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric.
“You always know just how to dress for me, don’t you?” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a possessive undertone that sends a shiver down your spine.
You nod, swallowing hard. “I thought you might be hungry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lando’s smirk widens, his hand sliding higher up your thigh, under the skirt of your dress. “Oh, I am,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing the lace of your underwear. “But I’m not interested in whatever you’ve brought in that basket.”
You bite your lip, your heart racing as his touch becomes more insistent. This is the routine now, the unspoken agreement. You bring him lunch, and he makes sure to have his appetizer first. His hands are all over you before you’ve even had a chance to set the table.
His thumb presses against the lace, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him. “Lando …”
He chuckles, pulling you down onto his lap, positioning you so that you’re straddling him, your dress riding up as his hands find your hips. “You know what I want,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear. “And you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you?”
You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his hands roam over your body, tugging at the fabric of your dress, pulling it up higher. His fingers find the bow tied around your waist, and he tugs at it, loosening it until the dress falls open slightly.
“You look so innocent,” Lando whispers, his voice dark with desire. “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” you breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders as his lips find your neck, kissing and biting softly.
Lando growls softly in satisfaction, his hands moving with practiced ease as he takes what he wants, as he always does. You’re used to this by now, the way he demands control, the way he always takes his fill of you before anything else. And part of you craves it — craves the way he makes you feel, like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.
After he’s had his way with you, his hands still lingering possessively on your hips, Lando finally leans back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Now,” he says, his voice still husky, “what did you bring me for lunch?”
You’re still breathless, your body trembling slightly as you try to regain your composure. You reach for the picnic basket, opening it to reveal the meal you’d spent the morning preparing — a simple but elegant spread of sandwiches, fruit, and pastries.
Lando watches you, his smirk never fading as you set everything up on his desk. “You spoil me,” he murmurs, reaching for one of the sandwiches.
You smile, trying to steady your breathing as you watch him take a bite, his eyes still fixed on you. “I just thought you might like something different,” you say softly.
He chuckles, swallowing his food before leaning back in his chair, his gaze predatory. “Oh, I do. I like it very much.”
As he eats, you sit across from him, watching as he devours the food you’ve made. There’s something intimate about it, the way he looks at you, the way his hand casually rests on your thigh as if he can’t go a moment without touching you.
When he’s finished, Lando leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “I want you to keep doing this,” he says after a moment. “Bringing me lunch every day.”
You blink, surprised. “Every day?”
He nods, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I like having you here. I like knowing you’re close.” His gaze darkens slightly. “And I like having you as an appetizer before the main meal.”
Your cheeks flush at his words, and Lando’s smirk widens. He leans forward, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, remember? And I always get what I want.”
You nod, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “Yes, Lando.”
His smirk softens into something more tender, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Good girl.”
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. You stay with him, lingering in his office as he works, your presence a constant distraction for him. Every now and then, he glances up from his papers to watch you, his eyes filled with a dark, possessive hunger that never seems to fade.
And when the workday finally ends, Lando takes you back to the penthouse, where the cycle begins again.
***
Lando is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his body pressed close to yours, his hand idly tracing circles on your bare skin. The mid-morning sunlight filters through the curtains of his penthouse bedroom, casting a soft glow over the room. It's quiet, peaceful, the kind of quiet that only comes with mornings like this — when the world outside is busy, but inside, it's just the two of you.
His lips are on your neck, warm and gentle, brushing against your skin with lazy affection. You can feel the way his breath hitches slightly, how his hand drifts lower, over the curve of your waist, until it comes to rest on your stomach. His fingers spread out across your skin, his touch firm yet tender.
“Baby,” Lando murmurs, his voice deep and hushed, as if he’s talking to himself as much as to you. He lets the word linger in the air, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. “You’d look so pretty with a baby.”
The words catch you off guard. You feel your heart skip a beat, a rush of warmth spreading through you, but there’s also confusion, a flicker of uncertainty. “Lando,” you breathe, turning your head slightly to look at him.
He doesn’t stop. His hand stays on your stomach, gently pressing against the flatness there, as if imagining it full, imagining you carrying his child. His lips find your jawline, kissing softly, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “You’d look perfect. So beautiful.”
You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. The tenderness in his voice is at odds with the intensity of his words. “A baby?” You ask quietly, unsure of what to say.
Lando’s eyes flick up to meet yours, his expression serious, though there’s a softness in his gaze. “Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “My baby with my baby.”
There’s a pause, the weight of his words hanging between you, and you feel a tightening in your chest. You’ve never really talked about this — about the future, about where this relationship is headed. You’ve been so caught up in the present, in the way Lando makes you feel, in the way he consumes every part of your life, that you haven’t allowed yourself to think too far ahead.
But now, he’s thinking for both of you. His mind is already made up.
“Lando, I-” You start to speak, but he cuts you off with a gentle kiss, his lips capturing yours in a way that steals your breath, that makes it impossible to think straight.
He pulls back, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Don’t think too much about it,” he whispers, his tone coaxing, soothing. “Just imagine it. You, with a little bump, carrying our baby. Doesn’t that sound good?”
You swallow hard, your mind racing. It’s overwhelming, the way he’s speaking, like he’s already decided this for you. His hand is still on your stomach, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, and it’s as if he’s trying to imprint the idea onto you — his baby, your body, his future.
“Lando, that’s … that’s a big decision,” you manage to say, though your voice is soft, tentative.
He smiles at you, that confident, easy smile that always makes your heart flutter. “I know,” he says, his voice calm, unhurried. “But it’s the right one. I want this. I want you to have my baby. I want you to be mine completely.”
His words send a shiver through you, both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. He’s never been shy about claiming you, about making it clear that you belong to him in every way. But this feels different. This feels permanent.
“I …” You try again, but once more, Lando silences you, his mouth moving against yours, his kiss more insistent this time, more possessive.
His hand slips down, over your thigh, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing against yours. He’s making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything other than the feel of him, the way he takes control with such ease.
“You trust me, don’t you?” He murmurs against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark and intense.
You nod without thinking, your heart racing. Of course you trust him. He’s always been there, always known exactly what to do, what you need. But this … this is different.
“I do,” you whisper, your voice shaky, unsure of where this is going.
Lando’s smile softens, his hand sliding back to your stomach, pressing there again, more firmly this time. “Then trust me with this, baby. You’d be perfect. You know that, right? You were made for this — for me.”
The possessiveness in his voice is unmistakable, and it sends a jolt through you. He’s always been dominant, always in control, but this feels deeper, more intense. It’s not just about the moment — it’s about the future he’s already planned out for you, the future he’s pulling you into without hesitation.
“Imagine it,” he says again, his voice dropping lower, his lips brushing against your ear. “You, carrying my child. Everyone would see it, would know you’re mine. You’d be so beautiful. So perfect.”
Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settling over you, wrapping around you like a tight embrace. The idea is both terrifying and intoxicating, and you don’t know how to respond.
Lando doesn’t give you the chance to. His hand moves again, this time slipping lower, between your thighs, his fingers pressing against you in a way that makes your mind go blank, your body responding instinctively to his touch.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, his voice soothing as his fingers tease you, his touch both gentle and firm. “I’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to think about it. Just let me take care of you, like I always do.”
You gasp softly, your body arching toward him, and Lando’s smirk widens as he watches you unravel under his touch, his hand working expertly to drive you closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against your neck, his voice a low growl. “That’s my girl. So good for me.”
Your mind is spinning, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch, the way he’s controlling the entire moment. And yet, there’s a part of you that wants to give in, to let him take control, to let him decide everything, because it feels safe, it feels right.
Lando’s grip tightens slightly on your stomach, his thumb brushing over your skin in a possessive way. “You’re going to be perfect, baby. You’ll be mine completely. You already are.”
His words sink deep into you, the finality of them making your heart race. He’s not asking. He’s telling you. This is what he wants, what he’s decided for both of you. And in this moment, with his body pressed against yours, his hand between your thighs, his lips on your skin, it’s impossible to argue.
You’re his, and you always will be.
***
Lando's eyes are fixed on you, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight. The golden light hits your skin, casting you in a soft glow, but all he can focus on is the slight curve of your stomach, the undeniable proof of the life growing inside you.
His child.
You’re wearing one of those dresses he loves, the fabric soft and flowing, cinched just below your breasts to accommodate the growing bump. It’s a subtle change for now, but Lando notices it like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. The way you move, the way your hands instinctively rest on your stomach sometimes, like you’re protecting what belongs to him. He can’t take his eyes off you.
You turn slightly, catching him watching you from across the room, and your lips curve into a soft, shy smile. “What?” You ask, voice light, but there’s a hint of nervousness in your tone, like you’re not sure what he’s thinking.
Lando doesn't answer right away. Instead, he walks toward you, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving your bump. When he finally reaches you, his hand moves to rest on your stomach, the warmth of your skin radiating through the fabric of your dress. He feels it under his palm — the slight roundness, the beginning of the change, the proof of his claim on you.
“My baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive, the words more for himself than for you.
You look up at him, a flicker of emotion in your eyes. There’s still that innocence, that soft vulnerability that Lando can’t get enough of. Less than a year ago, you were untouched, unclaimed by any man, and now — now, you’re carrying his child. The thought makes something primal stir deep inside him, a fierce sense of ownership and pride.
Lando’s thumb brushes lightly over your stomach, tracing the curve as if memorizing the way your body is changing. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his voice rough around the edges. His eyes flick back to yours, intense, as he continues, “I always knew you’d look perfect with my baby growing inside you.”
A flush spreads across your cheeks, your lips parting slightly, but you don’t say anything. Lando knows this is overwhelming for you — everything about him, about this relationship, about how quickly everything has changed. But that’s exactly how he wanted it. He wasn’t going to give you time to second-guess anything. You belong to him now, and there’s no going back.
He kneels in front of you without warning, one hand still resting on your stomach while the other grips your hip, pulling you slightly closer. His breath hitches as his eyes level with the slight swell, and he presses his lips softly to your stomach, placing slow, deliberate kisses on the fabric of your dress. His baby, inside you. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.
Lando looks up at you from where he’s kneeling, his eyes dark with intensity. “I still can’t believe it,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Less than a year ago, you hadn’t even been touched by a man. And now …” He trails off, his hand moving to press against the bump again. “Now, you’re full with my child.”
The words hang heavy in the air, and you swallow hard, clearly unsure of how to respond. Lando’s always been intense, always so certain, so in control of everything between you. But this — this is something different. This is forever.
He stands back up, his hands sliding up your sides, holding you close as he towers over you. His thumb brushes along your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Do you even understand what this means?” He asks quietly, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re mine. Completely. No one else will ever have you like this.”
You nod, a bit shakily, and Lando smirks. He knows it’s a lot for you to take in, but that’s exactly how he wants it. He wants you overwhelmed, completely consumed by him, by the life he’s building for you both.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, and there’s a softness in his voice now, a gentleness that he only shows you in these quiet moments. “You’re doing so well. Carrying my child, making our future.”
His hand moves back to your stomach, rubbing small circles as he continues, “I always knew you’d be perfect like this. My baby with my baby.” He chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. “You’re going to be the most beautiful mother.”
You lean into him, letting out a soft sigh, and Lando feels something warm unfurl in his chest. He likes seeing you like this — soft, pliant, completely under his control. He likes knowing that every part of you belongs to him, from your mind to your body to the life growing inside of you.
“I want you to rest more,” he says suddenly, his tone taking on that commanding edge again. “No more worrying about anything. I’ll take care of everything.”
You blink up at him, a slight frown crossing your face. “I don’t worry, Lando,” you say softly, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.
“You do,” he insists, his hand tightening just a bit on your hip. “You don’t have to, though. That’s not your job anymore. Your only job is to take care of our baby. Got it?”
There’s a pause, and you nod again, this time more slowly, like you’re trying to process what he’s saying. Lando watches your expression carefully, knowing that you’re still adjusting to this life with him. But he also knows that he’s not giving you a choice. This is your life now — his life.
Lando leans down again, pressing another kiss to your stomach before straightening up. “I want you to rest now,” he says, his voice softening. “Come on, let’s go lie down.”
You hesitate for a moment, but then you let him guide you to the bedroom, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back as you walk. When you reach the bed, he helps you lie down, pulling the covers over you with a tenderness that contrasts with the intensity of his words.
He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as you settle in, his hand resting lightly on your stomach again. “I’ll stay here for a bit,” he murmurs, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I just want to be close to you. To our baby.”
You don’t say anything, but you don’t have to. Lando knows that you’re still processing everything, still adjusting to the life he’s created for you. But he’s patient. He’ll wait. Because he knows, deep down, that you’re his. Completely and utterly his. And soon, there will be no part of your life that isn’t touched by him, controlled by him.
He smiles to himself, brushing his thumb lightly over your skin as he leans down to kiss your forehead once more. “Rest now,” he whispers. “You’re doing so well.”
And as you close your eyes, Lando stays there, watching over you, his hand never leaving your stomach, his thoughts already spinning with plans for the future. You and him, and the life you’re building together. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.
And it’s only just beginning.
***
The lecture hall buzzes with quiet anticipation, students shifting in their seats, eyes on the door as they wait for the keynote speaker. Lando strides through the entrance with effortless authority, his tailored suit emphasizing his power. Every step he takes commands attention, but his focus isn't on the sea of students. It's on you.
He keeps you close to his side, his arm protectively wrapped around your waist, guiding you through the lecture hall. You're heavily pregnant now, your rounded belly making it harder to move with the same ease as before. Lando notices every wince, every slight shift in your weight, and his grip tightens, steadying you.
“You alright?” He murmurs, leaning down slightly, his voice low but firm. He stops walking as you pause, his thumb brushing against your side in a rare gesture of tenderness.
You nod, offering him a small smile, but Lando isn’t convinced. He’s always watching, always reading you, making sure you’re taken care of. He doesn’t want you out of his sight, especially not now, not when you’re carrying his child — his future. It’s why he insisted you come with him to this keynote speech, even if it meant pulling you away from the quiet of home.
“I don’t want you far from me, baby,” he’d said that morning, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You stay by my side today.”
And now, as he guides you to the front row of the lecture hall, he’s making sure you’re positioned just right. The front seat, where he can keep an eye on you, where no one else can intrude. Lando gestures for you to sit, his eyes dark and serious as you lower yourself into the chair, careful of your bump. He crouches down in front of you, smoothing a hand over your knee before leaning in, his lips close to your ear.
“If you need anything,” he says, his voice quiet but commanding, “you call me. I’m right here. Don’t even think about getting up on your own.”
You nod again, feeling his intensity radiating off him, and he gives your knee one last squeeze before standing up, adjusting his suit jacket with precision. He takes the stage with ease, the shift from boyfriend to powerful CEO seamless.
Lando begins speaking, his voice steady and commanding, captivating the room effortlessly. The students sit up straighter, hanging on every word, as he talks about leadership, success, and the ruthlessness it takes to survive in the world of business. But every now and then, his eyes flicker to you, checking, ensuring you’re still there, still safe.
You sit quietly, watching him, one hand resting on your bump, and the baby kicks softly against your palm. The speech is engaging, and you’re proud of him, but there’s a slight discomfort creeping in — the weight of your pregnancy, the strange sensation of being back here, in your old university, surrounded by classmates who wouldn’t recognize the person you are now.
After Lando finishes his speech, the applause echoes through the hall, loud and appreciative, but it barely reaches you. You’re too caught up in your thoughts, in the reality of how much has changed. Less than a year ago, you were sitting in one of these very seats, studying, dreaming about a future you thought would be on your own terms. Now, here you are, with Lando's baby growing inside you, a future that looks nothing like what you imagined.
As the students begin filing out, Lando steps down from the stage, immediately walking over to you. His hand is on your shoulder before you can say anything, and his presence instantly makes you feel safe, grounded.
“Let’s get you home, baby,” he says softly, his tone gentle but firm. “I don’t want you out for too long. You need to rest.”
But just as you start to stand, you overhear a conversation behind you, voices you vaguely recognize — former classmates, their tones incredulous, like they can’t believe what they’re seeing.
“Is that Y/N?” One of them asks, the disbelief clear in her voice.
“Yeah, but … wow. She’s changed so much,” another replies. “I mean, look at her. She’s pregnant — and with Lando Norris? How did that even happen?”
You freeze for a moment, uncertainty creeping in as their words sink in. Of course, you knew people would notice, would talk, but hearing it said out loud — how different you are now — makes your heart race a little. They don’t know the half of it. They don’t know how your life shifted so drastically, how Lando swept you into his world and never let go.
Lando’s eyes harden as he catches the exchange. He glares at the group of students, his expression darkening. The possessiveness that always simmers under the surface rises to the forefront. He tightens his arm around your waist as if to make a statement — one that’s loud and clear.
Without breaking his gaze from the group, he speaks, voice low and controlled. “We should stop by Burberry after this,” he says, leaning close to you, his hand pressing against your back, anchoring you to him. “I’ve been thinking we need more clothes for the baby. Maybe some cute outfits with little matching accessories. What do you think, baby?”
His words are meant to distract you, to pull you away from any lingering doubts those comments might have sparked. You look up at him, meeting his intense gaze, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you should feel reassured or overwhelmed by how much control Lando always has over every situation.
The students fall silent, quickly averting their gaze as Lando’s attention stays fixed on you. There’s no mistaking his message — Lando is in control. Of you. Of your life. Of everything. And no one else’s opinion matters.
You swallow hard, nodding softly as you lean into him. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” you murmur, your voice quiet, unsure.
Lando's eyes soften slightly as he looks down at you, clearly pleased with your response. He cups your cheek briefly before turning to lead you out of the hall, his arm still firmly around your waist.
As you walk together through the corridors of your old university, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions — nostalgia, confusion, but also a deep, almost unsettling sense of belonging. It’s as if you no longer fit into the life you once had here, and the only place you truly belong is at Lando’s side, under his protection, within his world.
Once outside, Lando stops, glancing down at you as you lean against him. “You alright, baby?” He asks, his voice softer now, more intimate.
You nod, though the tightness in your chest lingers. “Yeah,” you whisper, but your mind drifts back to the students, to their words. How much you’ve changed.
Lando studies you for a moment before brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You don’t need to worry about what anyone thinks,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “Your life is here, with me. That’s all that matters.”
He kisses your forehead, the gesture unexpectedly tender, and pulls you closer. “Let’s go to Burberry. We’ll pick out something nice for our baby.” His hand moves down to brush lightly over your bump, possessive and affectionate all at once. “And maybe something for you too.”
You lean into him as he guides you toward his car, trying to shake the strange unease that’s settled in your chest. It’s true — you’ve changed so much in such a short time. But with Lando by your side, there’s no room for second-guessing.
Your life, your future, your identity — it’s all wrapped up in him now. And there’s no turning back.
***
Lando sits behind his massive desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office casting a warm glow across the room. He glances at his watch, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. It’s almost time. Every day around this hour, like clockwork, you arrive at his office with a homemade lunch, dressed in one of your designer dresses and kitten heels, looking as perfect as ever. But lately, there’s an extra reason for his anticipation. A tiny reason.
He hears the familiar knock on the door before it creaks open. His heart, normally steady and guarded, stirs a little, as it always does when you walk into the room. And there you are, with that ever-present bow in your hair, a smaller version of it perched atop your baby daughter’s head as you hold her close.
“There are my girls,” Lando says, his voice low, but with a warmth reserved only for you and your daughter. He stands from his desk, smoothing out his suit as he crosses the room in long, confident strides.
Your daughter, barely a year old, gurgles happily as Lando approaches. He reaches out and takes her from your arms with ease, holding her in one arm while his other hand reaches out to rest possessively on your lower back. His thumb brushes against the silk of your dress, the simple touch staking his claim over you, over everything you are.
“Daddy’s been waiting,” he says softly, his gaze flicking down to the baby in his arms before he turns his attention back to you. “And what did my girls bring me today?”
You smile up at him, a little breathless, always affected by the sheer presence of him. “Your favorite,” you say, lifting the picnic basket a bit. “And something new I wanted to try.”
Lando’s dark eyes sparkle with something unreadable, though you’re sure it’s a mix of amusement and affection. He loves these moments. These tiny, perfect slices of domesticity. He’d once filled his life with the best of everything — lavish lunches from Michelin-starred restaurants, anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. But none of it compares to this. To you, his beautiful wife-to-be, and the child you both created together.
Without a word, Lando steps away from you just long enough to sit down on the edge of his massive desk, setting your daughter on his lap. She immediately grabs for the bow on his tie, her tiny fingers tugging at it while she babbles incoherently. Lando laughs — a sound so rare that even you pause to savor it.
“She’s got good taste,” he comments, adjusting her tiny hand so she doesn’t pull the knot loose. His eyes meet yours again, and you know that he’s shifting the focus back to you. He always does. “You two make quite the pair, you know that?”
You blush a little, smoothing the front of your dress as you walk over, the baby’s gaze following you. “I think she takes after her daddy,” you tease softly, though there’s truth in your words. Your daughter’s eyes are the same shade of bright green as Lando’s, her expressions sometimes eerily similar to his — calm, calculating, but always with a spark of something mischievous beneath the surface.
Lando’s expression softens, though the control, the dominance that defines him, never wavers. He slides off the desk and takes your hand, pulling you toward him until you’re standing between his legs, his chest close enough to brush against yours.
“Do you know how perfect this is?” He asks quietly, the words intimate, meant just for you. His hand, the one not balancing the baby, comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. “You. Her. This …everything.”
You tilt your head slightly, leaning into his touch, feeling the familiar tug of his pull on your entire being. There’s something in the way he looks at you, something that both grounds you and makes you feel like you’re floating.
“I couldn’t ask for more,” you whisper, meaning every word.
Lando’s eyes narrow slightly, that smirk you know all too well tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, but I can. And I will.”
You blink, confused for a moment, but then you see the glint of metal as his hand slips into his pocket. He pulls out a small, black velvet box and opens it in one smooth motion. The ring inside is enormous, the diamond catching the sunlight streaming in from the windows and casting shimmering reflections across the room.
Lando doesn’t ask. He doesn’t get down on one knee. That’s not his style. There’s no question in his mind, and there won’t be in yours, either.
“We’re getting married,” he says, his tone leaving no room for discussion, no space for hesitation. His eyes are locked on yours, the weight of his words sinking in slowly, like gravity pulling you deeper into his orbit. He’s not making a suggestion. He’s making a decision. For both of you. Just like everything else in your life together.
Your breath catches as he takes your left hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. It’s heavy, almost too heavy, but then again, isn’t everything with Lando like that? His presence, his control, his love. All of it weighs on you in ways that sometimes feel overwhelming, but at the same time, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Lando, I …” Your words falter as you stare down at the ring, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Excitement, disbelief, love. “I wasn’t expecting …”
“You don’t have to expect anything,” Lando interrupts smoothly, his hand still wrapped around yours, anchoring you to him. “I make the decisions for us. And I’ve decided it’s time. I want you as my wife.”
Your heart races at the finality in his voice, at the way he always seems to know exactly what you need before you even realize it yourself.
You look up at him, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something — vulnerability, maybe — in your expression. But Lando catches it, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you close until your foreheads are almost touching.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, his voice low, intimate. “This is right. We’re right.”
You nod, the words catching in your throat as emotion wells up inside you. “Yes,” you finally whisper, your voice shaky but certain.
Lando’s smirk deepens as he presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, a soft, possessive brush of his mouth against yours.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, the praise making your heart flutter.
Your daughter gurgles in Lando’s lap, her tiny fingers still clutching his tie, and he chuckles softly, pulling back just enough to glance down at her.
“See that, little one?” He says, his voice shifting into something softer, more playful as he speaks to your daughter. “Mummy’s going to be Mrs. Norris soon. Isn’t that right, baby?”
You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and filled with happiness, as you reach out to stroke your daughter’s cheek. She coos at you both, completely oblivious to the monumental moment that just unfolded.
Lando shifts his grip on her, settling her more comfortably in his arms before his eyes meet yours again. There’s a heat in his gaze now, something deeper, more possessive. “We’ll have a celebration soon,” he says, his tone firm. “But today, I want you all to myself. No distractions. Just us.”
Your pulse quickens at the implication behind his words, and you feel a familiar warmth spread through you as you lean into him, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt.
Lando tilts your chin up, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, the world outside disappears. It’s just you, Lando, and your daughter — the family you never imagined, but the one you wouldn’t trade for anything.
“Let’s have lunch,” you finally say, breaking the silence with a soft smile. “I made all your favorites.”
Lando’s eyes darken with something unspoken, but he nods, the smirk still playing at the corner of his lips. “After,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Right now, I want to spend time with my girls.”
And with that, he pulls you even closer, the weight of his presence wrapping around you like the most precious gift of all.
***
Lando lies in bed with you curled up against his side, his arm draped possessively around your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. The room is dark and quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside the penthouse windows and the occasional faint sound from the baby monitor on the nightstand, signaling your daughter’s peaceful sleep in the nursery next door. It’s a rare moment of calm, one of the few times when Lando’s dominant presence seems softer, more intimate.
But even in moments like these, where his touch is gentle and his voice low, that control is never far beneath the surface. It’s in the way his arm tightens slightly around you, holding you close as if he can’t bear to let you go, not even for a moment. It’s in the way his eyes, though closed, seem always watchful, always aware of you, of every movement you make.
You let out a soft sigh, your body fully relaxed against his. It’s been a long day, but a good one, filled with moments that have become your new normal — bringing Lando lunch at the office, watching him melt when he sees you and your daughter, his two girls, as he always calls you. The rhythm of your life has shifted since you became a family, but Lando remains the constant anchor, the force that drives everything forward.
As you settle deeper into the warmth of his embrace, Lando’s hand moves from your waist to rest gently on your stomach, his palm warm against your skin. The gesture seems innocent at first, a continuation of the tender touches you’ve shared all evening, but then his hand lingers, his fingers spreading out slightly as if to claim more of you.
His voice breaks the silence, soft but unmistakably deliberate. “You know,” he begins, his tone casual, yet carrying that undercurrent of intent that always makes your heart race, “I’ve been thinking.”
You open your eyes, tilting your head slightly to glance up at him. “Thinking about what?”
Lando’s eyes are still closed, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the kind that tells you he’s about to say something that will change everything. “About us,” he says, his hand pressing a little more firmly against your stomach. “And about how perfect you looked carrying our little girl.”
Your breath hitches slightly at his words, a flush rising to your cheeks as the meaning behind them begins to sink in. “Lando …” you start, but your voice falters, unsure of what to say.
He opens his eyes then, looking down at you with that piercing gaze that always makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him. “You’ve been perfect, baby,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate register. “More than I ever imagined. But now …” His thumb strokes your skin, just beneath the swell of your stomach, and his eyes darken with that familiar possessiveness. “It’s time for the next one.”
You blink up at him, your mind racing to catch up with his words. “The next one?”
Lando nods, his expression entirely serious, but with a hint of excitement beneath the surface, as if he’s been thinking about this for longer than he’s letting on. “It’s time we started working on our next baby,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I want to see you pregnant again. And this time …” His hand tightens just slightly on your stomach, his voice taking on a more commanding edge. “I want you to be pregnant when we get married. Walking down the aisle with my ring on your finger and a little bump under your dress. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”
Your heart skips a beat at the image he paints, the idea of walking down the aisle, your hand in his, your body already showing signs of the new life you’d created together. It’s overwhelming and thrilling all at once, the way everything with Lando always is.
“Lando,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to process what he’s saying. “We just had our daughter …”
He chuckles softly, the sound low and filled with that familiar confidence that always sets you on edge. “And she’s perfect,” he agrees, his fingers trailing up to brush the side of your face. “But why stop there? We’re just getting started, baby. I want a family. A big one. And I want you to be the one who gives it to me.”
His words settle over you like a blanket, heavy and warm, filled with expectation. There’s no question in his tone, no room for hesitation. Lando has already decided, just as he always does. And as much as the thought takes your breath away, there’s a part of you that already knows you’ll give him what he wants. You always do.
You bite your lip, your mind racing as you try to form a coherent response. “But … what if I’m not ready?”
Lando’s eyes darken at your hesitation, his hand moving from your stomach to tilt your chin up so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You are ready,” he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “I know you are.” He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You were made for this, baby. For me. For our family. And you’ll give me what I want, won’t you?”
Your heart pounds in your chest, your body already responding to the commanding tone of his voice, the way his words wrap around you like a vice, pulling you deeper into his world, his desires. You nod slowly, unable to do anything else. “Yes, Lando,” you whisper, your voice trembling with both anticipation and submission. “I’ll give you what you want.”
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he pulls back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, a reward for your obedience.
He doesn’t waste any more time. His hand moves lower, slipping beneath the sheets, his touch firm and deliberate as he begins to remind you exactly who you belong to. Your breath hitches, your body arching toward him instinctively, already pliant under his control.
“You’re going to look so beautiful, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his hand moves with expert precision. “Walking down the aisle with my child growing inside you. Everyone will see. Everyone will know.”
His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of desire and awe flooding through you. He’s not just talking about a wedding. He’s talking about a future, one that’s already been mapped out in his mind, one that you’re destined to follow. And as overwhelming as it is, there’s something undeniably thrilling about being part of his plan, of knowing that you’re the center of his world, the one who will give him everything he wants.
Lando’s movements become more insistent, his lips trailing down your neck as he presses you further into the mattress, his body radiating heat and control. You can feel the weight of his expectations, the force of his desire, and it’s enough to make your head spin.
“Lando,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body trembles beneath him.
“Shh, baby,” he soothes, his voice dark and commanding as his hand continues its relentless pace. “Just let go. Let me take care of you.”
And you do. You always do.
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hamilando · 1 day ago
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ੈ✩ 4K video (smau) ੈ✩
pairing : lando norris x fem reader
summary: some things are better kept quiet about
tw : angst, fluff
fc : ester expostio
a/n : thank you so much to @evasmlp for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻 THIS FIC CONTAINS SENSITIVE TOPICS ( leaked videos, hate, s!ut shaming) please understand that I don’t mean to harm anyone with this fic, but kind of reflects on the recent Seunghan Scandal in the Kpop industry. ( he was a member of a boyband riize, and got kicked out and people sent death wreaths to him because his photos of kissing his girlfriend got leaked) #riizeis7, let the celebs live a normal life please
·:。・゚゚・ ✩ ・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・ ・゚·:。・゚゚・ ✩ ・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・・゚·:。・゚゚・ ✩ ・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚
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liked by landonorris, aron.piper and 3,568,297 others
ynpapi did I just graduate high school at the age of 24!?
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user1 NETFLIX RELEASE IT
user2 can't wait to have a crush on everyone
manurios babygirl 👄
ynpapi aren't you like gay?
manurios babydick 😒
ynpapi your management will be calling you in another 2 mins
user3 I am also gay for you yn 😔
aron.piper oh god, you really took your spanish roots seriously
ynpapi bow down to your papi 👄🤭
aron.piper please don't be high on set
user4 I just follow her to see her friend group drama
landonorris Aron, Danna, please make sure my girlfriend doesn't die by flushing herself down the toilet
aron.piper got it boss 💪🏻
danna you don't even have to say it
mariapedraza even I exist!! I can also take care of her!
manurios you just took a bottle of vodka from my cupboard
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liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmieux and 3,987,267 others
ynpapi can't believe my f1 champion is 26
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georgerussell I think I skipped a century worth of f1
charlesleclerc when did this short kid become the champion?
carlossainz that too before me!?
francolapinto in a Williams? Highly unlikely
carlossainz you don't even have a seat kid
ynpapi STOP BULLYING MY LANDO AND I CAN SAY WHATEVER I WANT
ynpapi lando baby, I love you and they are just jealous of you
landonorris I love you
landonorris GOING TO ZAC
landonorris I AM SO WINNING THE WDC
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liked by user1, user2, user3 and 452,937 others
hollywoodlife BREAKING! Y/N Expostio’s ex boyfriend ( non-celeb) has been arrested for leaking their private videos from when she was just 19. Y/N Expostio is currently dating F1 driver, Lando Norris.
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user1 that’s fucking sick
user2 SHE WAS 19!?
user3 if he wanted to ruin her career, he should have just blackmailed for money
user4 DOING ANYTHING TO RUIN A CAREER IS SICK !
user5 we love you y/n, stay strong 💪🏻
user6 I can’t imagine how tolling it must be for yn and lando
user7 but glad she got what she deserved, her fault for even making that video
user8 EXCUSE ME !?
user9 that’s just straight up bs
user10 PARDON HER FOR ENJOYING LIFE WITH HER BOYFRIEND !?
user11 now get her out of elite, didn’t like her acting anyways
user12 exactly! replace her !
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ynexpostio with the recent speculations going on, I would like to announce that me and Lando have decided to take a break after 3 years. It was a mutual and amiable decision and I wish him all the best!
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f1wags BREAKING! Lando Norris revealed the reason of their break up with Y/N Expostio!
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user1 and you all are still hating on that poor girl !
user2 she literally sacrificed her love just so he doesn’t get any hate!
user3 but lando should have declined!
user4 like always they have posted half the stuff
user4 Lando said after that line that he didn’t want to do that but Y/N was struggling mentally and so he decided he to respect her desicion.
user5 I swear being a celebrity means living your life on the edge
user6 you know it's bad when she changes her username back to her own name 😭
user7 they have not broken up! they are on a break !
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ynexpostio my d1 ♥️
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f1wags Alexandra and Y/N were seen in the Ferrari paddock for the Mexican GP!
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user1 umm, she is going after Carlos now ?
user2 both Ferrari drivers are dating
user3 first a slut and then a cheater ?
user4 this lady is messed up
user5 YOU BREAK WITH LANDO FOR THIS !?
user6 can't even defend her anymore
user7 SHE IS FRIENDS WITH ALEX AND CHARLES! she can go there as a friend too !
user8 imagine her cheating with Charles
user9 READ THE DAMN NEWS, HER EX BOYFRIEND HAD ESCAPED POLICE CUSTODY AND WAS STALKING HER, ALEX AND CHARLES ARE HELPING HER !
user10 he better stay in jail for the next few centuries
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liked by landonorris, aron.piper, charlesleclerc and 2,268,286 others
ynpapi break over, the movie resumes 🎬
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user1 SHE IS BACK !!
user2 WE LOVE YOU !!!
user3 don't scare us like that ever again
user4 what happened to the ex ?
user5 killed off from the movie
user6 he is in jail ☺️
tg: @sainzzreputaticn
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giannaln4 · 2 days ago
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GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day fifteen.
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Good Girl + Wearing His Clothes During Sex (2k words)
summary: The last thing you needed was your boyfriend distracting you from all the work you needed to get done, but he knew just the way to get your attention.
warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, oral (f receiving), praise, dom!lando, unprotected sex.
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The big hotel room felt overwhelming as you sat on the desk with your laptop in front of you. This is what you had to put up with for travelling around the world to support your boyfriend. You wouldn’t say it wasn’t worth it, but it was the time difference that was really killing you. 
You hoped to have enough time to enjoy Brazil and its beautiful activities, but sadly, this wasn’t the case, since you now found yourself feeling stressed, with a million things to do, and wearing one of Lando’s shirts that rested just above your thigh to put up with the hot weather.
Lando was laying on the bed, staring at you as you typed away; he was growing a little desperate. You promised you would be done in time for lunch, or at least to spend some time together, but it wasn’t looking like that would happen for who knows how long.
“How is it going?”
“Uh- not great,” he sighed as you said this. There were many reasons he brought you with him, and watching you work was not one of them. “I’ll be over soon, I promise.”
“How long?”
“Baby, I’ll be done in time for lunch, okay?” You said again, looking at him momentarily.
He looked at the time, assuming he wouldn’t have to wait too much since it was almost lunchtime. He decided to stop bothering you and just let you do your thing, knowing that if he distracted you, you’d take longer, and he just needed you to himself as soon as possible. 
An hour went by, and it didn’t look like you would be done any time soon; he hated to admit it, but he was almost at his limit. He realised it wasn’t fair to feel that way, but he honestly couldn’t help it. He decided to give you 15 more minutes, mentally setting a timer to drag you away from your computer, and when the time was done, that’s exactly what he did, or at least that was his intention. 
“Okay, time for lunch. What do you feel like eating?” He said it in a tone that felt like he wasn’t giving you an option to reject him. 
“Just 30 more minutes, baby, I promise.”
“What? That’s what you said almost two hours ago.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I just need to send this one thing and I’m all yours.” You looked at him with a soft smile, hoping he would understand.
Instead, he grunted in annoyance. “Baby, please. Is that office falling apart without you?”
“It is, by the looks of it.”
“Come on. Let’s have lunch and then you can come back to work. I’m starving.”
“Lando,” you stared at him more seriously now, feeling like a mother telling their kid away, going back to your laptop after a few seconds.
Were you being serious? He thought as he stood there, still looking at you and waiting for you to give him some attention. But you didn’t, so he would have to come up with a better plan. 
He stood behind the desk chair, wrapping his arms around you as he planted soft kisses on your jaw. This made you melt instantly, but that feeling quickly went away when a notification popped on your screen. With that, your attention went back to the screen.
But he wouldn’t give up so easily. His mouth travelled further down, paying special attention to your neck.
“Not now, Lando. I’m quite busy.”
He turned the chair around, so now you were facing him. “You need to take a break, my love, you can’t keep going like this.”
“I’m almost done-”
“That’s what you have been saying, not only today but literally every day.” He was giving you his best puppy eyes, hoping that would make you break. 
“I know… no, don’t give me that look.”
“Please, one hour is all I’m asking for. We’ll order room service so we don’t even have to leave the room. Is a win-win.”
He kneeled in front of you, his hands landing on your thighs as he started kissing your exposed skin. You were considering it; in one hand, stopping for an hour wouldn’t hurt anybody, but then again, if you stopped, that means you would eventually have to come back and finish later.
That internal battle was soon forgotten when you felt one of his hands creeping up between your legs, quickly finding your clothed core. You let out an involuntary moan, closing your eyes as you enjoyed his touch.
“See? You need to relax,” he whispered, his kisses becoming wetter the closer he got to the inside of your thighs. “Lift your hips for me.” Lando hooked his fingers in the hem of your panties, sliding them down your body and throwing them somewhere behind him. With all the patience in the world, he used one of his fingers to play with your clit, circling it softly as he looked up at you, a smirk forming on his face when he saw how much you were enjoying it.
“Want me to keep going?”
“Y-yes,” you breathed out, swallowing hard as your small hand fell on his hair.
He decided to cut out the teasing now that he could see how desperate you were getting, burying himself completely between your legs and planting a kiss directly on your clit. The moan you let out was glorious, and it only encouraged him to keep going. He then started to properly eat you out, licking and sucking just the way you liked it. He directed his tongue to your dripping hole, collecting all your arousal and then licking up your slit, bringing it to your sensitive clit.
“Shit, so good,” you moaned, and you could feel him smiling at the effect he had on you.
God, his tongue was really doing wonders. Repeatedly, he was lapping at your clit and then gently sucking on it for a longer period of time, which he knew was what you enjoyed the most, teasing it with the tip of his tongue from time to time. A few minutes went by as he repeated this process, adding a finger inside you when he felt you clench around nothing.
The added pleasure made you arch your back and push his head closer to you, although that was impossible. You couldn’t help it; you could feel your orgasm so close yet so far. It was probably the stress; Lando was right, you were overworking yourself day after day, and this was probably just what you needed.
Another thick finger was added as he picked up the pace, and you began to feel the familiar tightening of your orgasm approach.
“Lando- fuck.” Your eyes were squeezed shut as your legs that rested on his shoulder began to shake, gasps and pants escaping your lips as you started to see stars, your orgasm hitting you shortly after. 
You could hear him moan faintly, the vibrations prolonging your climax as your tiny clit pulsed against his tongue. Your entire body was combulsing so much that you were sure that if Lando wasn’t holding you with one of his strong arms, the chair wouldn’t be standing anymore.
When it became too much, you pushed his head away, breathing heavily as you came down from your high. But he was starting to get needy himself. He shifted on his feet and carried you in his arms, immediately kissing you, and you could taste yourself in his mouth. 
He walked towards the bed and softly placed you down, stepping away for a moment to undress himself. You admired his muscles flexing as he pulled his shirt over his head, his eyes never leaving your body. His intense gaze made you feel exposed, reaching down and trying to shove the shirt over your bare bottom half while he stood over you. 
God, he really had you in the palm of his hand, because the way he chucked had you pathetically leaking down your thighs and onto the bed. 
“Can’t get shy now, sweetheart, I’ve seen all of it,” he reminded you, making your cheeks go red as you recalled the events that took place in the chair across the room just minutes ago. 
You timidly nodded, paying attention to how his hands moved to undo his belt and pull his pants down, along with his underwear. His smirk grew darker as you pressed your thighs together; the way he affected you never went unnoticed, and he always yearned to give you more.
Once he was finally done, he hovered over you, his lips immediately finding yours. You involuntarily moaned against him, wrapping your legs around him to bring him closer. In a swift movement, he rolled you over so you would be on top, dragging your hips lower to get you to sit on his desperate cock. 
Your hips started slowly moving, relieving some of the neediness he was feeling; his moans joined yours, and as you got more into it, your hands reached for the hem of the shirt you were still wearing.
“No, keep that on for me, yeah?” He stopped you, pulling it back down. You nodded and placed your hands on his chest instead, nails digging at his skin.
“Mhm, need you,” you moaned, lifting your hips and guiding his cock to your entrance. That action sent a throb through his already aching abdomen, an incredibly deep moan coming from him as you sat back down. 
“Fuck, so perfect for me.” He whimpered, his hands finding your waist to guide your movements. This made his shirt roll up, uncovering your pussy and part of your tummy; he could practically see himself inside you as you bounced on his cock.
You had your lip trapped between your teeth as your hands were now placed on top of his, your eyes shut as you arched your back, allowing him to have a better view of how his huge cock disappeared inside you. He could watch you ride him forever; you were always so good for him.
“Good girl.” You let out a loud moan at his words and clenched his pulsing dick inside you, making you open your eyes and look down at him — a look somewhere between surprised and embarrassed meeting his eyes.
Lando didn’t share your feelings of embarrassment at all; in fact, he was going insane at the reaction two simple words got out of you. Oh, he was going to use that to his advantage.
“Like it when I call you a good girl?” Fuck, another loud moan. “Yeah, are you being a good girl for me?”
“Ah, yes,” you breathed out, your pace picking up at every word he uttered. 
“Keep going, baby, you are doing so good.” A broken moan vibrated from your chest, only making him more amused.
You did as he said, maintaining a rhythm that felt so good for both of you. However, after a few seconds, he felt like it wasn't fast enough, because the next thing you knew, he had planted his feet on the bed and thursted up into you, his grip on your waist tightening and breaking your rhythm, smirking at the broken moan you let out. 
“I need- please,” you moaned desperately as you felt him hit your g-spot over and over again. He watched with darkened eyes as you threw your head back and screamed his name. 
“Come on, wanna keep my cum inside your tummy?” As if he could drive you even crazier, one of his thumbs landed on your clit. His teeth flashed in a grin when you nodded, pressing harder. “Cum with me, baby.”
As soon as he said those words, the coil in your stomach tightened before breaking completely, more broken moans and a few curses slipping past your lips. He cried out when his orgasm followed soon after, filling your pussy with his hot cum. 
You fell forward onto his chest, his hands caressing your back under the sweaty shirt. “Good girl,” he muttered one more time as he pressed a sweet kiss to your head.
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itneverendshere · 2 days ago
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for bitchy pogue reader I'd love some actual introductions to Topper and Kelce after the golf course, they can be huge assholes but we've seen a nicer side to both of them. So Rafe trying to see if group hanging out *is* possible, and it's probably very weird but maybe it works out?
it's not working out just yet....but maybe! soon! thank you for the request💗
get your head in the game
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pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe
you think you had too many shots before leaving the house.
alright, so maybe the vodka was overkill. maybe. but you knew you’d need a little courage to pull off this top that’s basically a vague suggestion of a shirt. the whole thing's simple math—tight skirt, low-cut top, a flick of lip gloss, and, boom, everyone else is irrelevant.
if you wanted, you could have any guy here eating out of the palm of your hand. so why the fuck did you dress thinking about rafe when you’re supposed to distance yourself from that asshole? no idea.
the bonfire’s huge tonight, lighting up all the faces you couldn’t care less about.
you can feel him, hovering somewhere nearby. he’s in that faded sweatshirt he always wears when it’s colder out, the one that smells like salt and smoke and way too many of your bad nights. mister pouty face himself, sulking around the fire, watching you with this look that says he knows he messed up but doesn’t even know where to start patching things over.
you turn your back on him for the millionth time that night, let your hips sway just a little extra, knowing he’s watching. yeah, you’re putting on a show, all right—flicking your hair, laughing louder than you need to. 
you’re just reaching for a beer when you feel hands slide around your waist, and you almost jump out of your skin, but then you catch that familiar, maddening scent of his and your body goes all traitorous, leaning back against him before you snap out of it.
"jesus,” you’re already twisting out of his clasp, turning around, and there he is, standing like he didn’t just sneak up on you with those stupid blue eyes and that stupid, lopsided grin. 
you want to shove him away, but he’s got that look, like he’s begging for a chance without saying a word, and you hate how much it gets to you.
your head had been a mess since that day at the golf course.
“what do you want?” you ask, arms crossed, brows up, giving him that full-on don’t mess with me look.
“to talk,” he’s close, way too close, looking down at you like he’s trying to read every little twitch of your face as if he can just stand there and make things better by breathing the same air.
his hands are still hovering around your waist, like he’s waiting for permission to touch you again. part of you wants to let him, but you just narrow your eyes, tilting your chin.
“aren’t you afraid your little friends are gonna see you?” you edge him on, “talking to a pogue?”
“don’t start,” he says, you can see the pleading in his eyes as he reaches for your waist again, fingertips brushing your hip, like he can’t stand not touching you for another second.
“why not?”
he winces, dropping his hand back to his side, and it’s almost pathetic, how he’s just standing there, not even pretending to defend himself. “i—c’mon, i already apologized—”
you roll your eyes, not trying to hide the smirk pulling at your lips. 
“apologized?” you let out a bitter laugh, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “oh, yeah, that makes up for all the times you acted like i didn’t exist.”
his face crumples, and you can see him struggling, his hand drifting toward your hip again, but he hesitates like he’s afraid he’s about to get slapped away.
it’s almost sad, mr. big shot practically pussy-whipped.
“c’mon, don’t do this,” he murmurs, stepping closer until you can feel the warmth of him. his fingertips ghost along your bare arm, like he’s desperate just to feel you. 
you scoff, leaning back against the cooler, crossing your arms in front of you as his hand slides to your waist, bold and pleading all at once. his touch is warm, and you hate how your body responds like it’s a prayer, like you've been waiting all night for him to finally show up.
“there’s some people i want you to meet.”
his thumb brushes the skin just above your waistband, and he’s so close you can feel his breath against your cheek.
“what?” you huff in annoyance, lifting your chin up as he inches closer, his lips brushing against the side of your neck.
you feel his thumb grazing your skin back and forth, his lips so close you can taste the desperation in his breath.
perhaps it’s the vodka, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you but you feel yourself softening, just a little, against your will.
“my friends.”
you didn’t hear him right. 
his friends? the same friends who wouldn’t even look at you if you walked past them in town? the same friends he’d all but hid you from for months?
“what?” you ask, slower this time, more disbelief than anything, and you tilt your head up to get a better look at him. 
he’s got that kicked puppy look in his eyes, and you’re not even sure what to make of it.
this is rafe cameron, the guy who wouldn’t be caught dead with you outside the bedroom, now practically begging to introduce you to his kook buddies?
“i want them to know,” his voice trails off, “i want them to know ‘m with you.”
“with me?” you repeat, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in your voice. “since when?”
this can’t be real—this can’t be the same rafe who couldn’t even look you in the eye outside his house three months ago.
“i told you, the other day at the golf course.”
you stare at him like he’s stupid, “you mean, when you went alpha on those little frat boys?”
“i saved you from them, okay.” 
you’re seconds away from outright laughter when he just keeps looking at you with those fucking pleading eyes, that hand grazing your cheek in a way that should be soft but instead feels like he’s trying to imprint himself into your skin.
why the fuck is this so endearing to you.
he sounds almost earnest—almost. but you’re not giving him an inch, not after months of him acting like he didn’t know your name outside of his bedroom. 
“what do you mean, ‘saved me’?” you raise an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. “saved me from what? a little attention?”
rafe lets out a rough exhale, glancing down with a frustrated shake of his head.
“they were hitting on you,” he mutters, his hand tightening on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you aware of every single inch of his hold on you. “and ‘m not gonna stand around and watch some asshole get his hands all over what’s mine.”
mine?  he’s really lost it. 
“country club, i don’t know if you hit your head golfing and this is some post-head trauma hallucination, but ‘mine’ implies you want something more than whatever the fuck this is.” you motion between the two of you, throwing a hand up in exasperation.
“why don’t you ever call me by my name?” he grumbles, just like he did the other day on the golf course. he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “except when—”
your mouth drops open. is he serious? this shit again?
“except when what?” you glare at him as you swat his chest. 
he’s got that smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.
“you only call me rafe when,” his voice drops deliciously, and he leans in close, eyes half-lidded and fixed on your lips. “…when ’m inside you.”
“shut up,” you hiss, smacking his chest again, but he doesn’t move. instead, his smirk grows as he catches your wrist and holds it, letting his fingers trace over your knuckles.
before you can retort, there’s a loud cackle from behind you.
you turn, and there they are: topper and kelce, both looking like they’ve stumbled into a parallel universe.
“whoa, what’s this?” topper’s smirk is almost as wide as rafe’s. “didn’t know our boy here had himself a—” he raises his eyebrows, letting the word hang with a smug twist of his mouth. kelce snickers, crossing his arms, eyes darting between you and rafe.
you’re already huffing, half-prepared to watch rafe put on his usual bad boy with daddy issues mask, toss out some stupid excuse, or worse—let them think you’re just a fucking hole to him.
rafe gives your waist an extra squeeze, fingers pressing into your side as if he’s staking a claim.
“this,” he says, clearing his throat like he’s about to announce something official, “is my girlfriend.”
you blink, utterly thrown, and from the look on their faces, topper and kelce are right there with you, both staring at rafe like he’s just grown an extra head.
“your what?” kelce sputters out, eyes widening, clearly expecting the punchline.
you open your mouth to say something snarky, make some joke out of this whole ridiculous scene, but rafe’s fingers are tracing slow, warm circles against your hip and you can’t think straight to save your life.
god, old you would’ve ridiculed yourself for being putty in the hands of a kook of all people. 
“girlfriend,” he repeats, like he’s spelling it out just for them. “want you both to meet her.”
you swear kelce’s jaw drops, while topper lets out a low, incredulous laugh. tweedledum and tweedledee at their best.
“you’re serious,” topper mutters, giving you a once-over and shaking his head in disbelief. “i thought she was just a—”
“yeah, ’m serious,” rafe cuts in, his tone brooking no argument.
you must’ve missed the part where you two talked about this thing like adults and he proceeded to ask you. 
“your what?” you bite out, as you try to wrench his arm away, but his grip only tightens, he’s prepared for a full-on wrestle if it keeps you there.
“hey—will you just stay here?” he murmurs, voice low enough that it’s just for you. 
you’d throw something at him if you could. you yank his hand away anyway, tearing yourself free from his grip. “stay? are you kidding?”
you’re already storming off into the crowd, but you still hear kelce behind you, their voices , “that went well.”
rafe curses under his breath, but you just keep walking, not looking back, even as you can feel him running after you, those long legs of his making it easy to catch up.
“wait! seriously, wait!”
 like hell you’re going to let him off the hook so easily.
“not happening!” you shout over your shoulder. 
you could turn around and give him one last piece of your mind, but a part of you knows it’ll only lead to more hurt feelings—yours or his. you push through a group of people huddled around the bonfire, and it’s only when you reach the edge of the beach that you finally stop, trying to catch your breath.
“why do you always do this?” rafe’s voice comes from behind you. you don’t turn around, knowing that if you see that look on his face, you might just give in.
“do what?” you shoot back, crossing your arms defensively.
“run away,” he almost whines, taking a step closer, and you can hear the frustration in the way his throat tightens up, “you never give me a chance to explain.”
“explain what? that you want me to be your girlfriend when two weeks ago, you couldn’t even look at me in front of your friends?” you spin to face him, “this is ridiculous.”
rafe opens his mouth, probably to defend himself, but the look on your face shuts any attempt down.
“i asked you to stay.”
you groan, itching to pull your hair out, “what are you talkin’ about?”
“that night, i asked you to stay.”
“and proceeded to ignore me the next day, yes, i’m well fuckin’ aware.”
you want him to feel a sliver of what he’s put you through, but he just steps closer, almost like he’s trying to coax you back.
“i was trying to figure things out,” he says, like that’s supposed to mean something to you. “it’s not easy, alright?”
“were you incredibly tortured by the thought of letting your friends know you were slumming it with a ‘pogue’? please.”
“what, you really think i don’t care about you?” he’s pleading now, his face just inches from yours. “because if you don’t know that by now, then i don’t know what else i can do.”
you laugh bitterly. Is he actually serious?
“you can grow a fucking pair. where was this brave, ‘caring’ version of you last week? or the week before that?” you throw a hand up, trying to make him see how obvious this all is. “when you could’ve just acted like a man and told your friends instead of pretending i was some embarrassing secret.”
“’m trying to fix that,” he says, his desperate, “right here, right now.”
“and ’m supposed to just forget the way you treated me all those times?”
“can you just let me try to be better?”
you swallow, biting your lip. he’s closer now, and you can smell that familiar cologne and saltwater.
“it’s gonna take more than a few pretty words.”
“i know,” he says, nodding like he’s promising you something. “that’s why i want you to meet my friends, why i want them to know ’m with you.” his fingers finally, lace with yours, and he looks down at your hands, “i want to do this right.”
you stare down at his hand in yours, and for a second, yeah, your heart stutters, betraying every ounce of pride you’ve tried to keep intact through this whole mess.
this is rafe we’re talking about. kook royalty, king of mixed signals, the guy who’s too proud to admit when he’s wrong, especially when his boys are watching. the guy smells good, he looks like sin, and he’s saying all the things you’ve wanted to hear since day one.
a few weeks ago, you’d have laughed at the idea of ever feeling anything real for him. you, a pogue with a mouth on you, and him, a kook with daddy issues and an ego bigger than his bank account. but here you are, letting him pull this romantic shit on you.
is he actually worth all this? you could do better; you know that.
you could have someone who doesn’t make you feel like an option, someone who’s not constantly forcing you to guess what the hell he wants.
the real question is, do you actually believe he’s gonna change? or is this just another moment of him saying whatever he has to so he doesn’t lose the convenience of you?
you huff, half-scoffing, half-sighing, because honestly, maybe he does sound genuine for once, and maybe a part of you wants to believe him so badly you could actually throw your whole life away. 
“prove it then,” you say it like you’re daring him. “day by day. if you’re serious, you’ll show me. and you’ll handle your idiot friends in the process.”
“deal.”
you raise a brown, “you’re not gonna think about it?”
he shrugs, “nothin’ to think about.”
you roll your eyes, because that line should be cheesy, but it lands. he really has no right to be this good at disarming you with a few well-placed words. and the worst part? he knows it. 
“can i kiss you?”
of course he'd say something like that. of course, after all the back-and-forth, the pushing and pulling, he’d just stand there and ask to kiss you like everything’s solved.
you sigh, tilting your head like you’re seriously considering it. "you think a kiss is gonna make me forget every dumb shit you did?"
he smirks, all cocky confidence, but he knows he’s on thin ice. “nah, but i figured it’d be a start.”
you almost hate him for making it sound so tempting, you wish it didn't feel this good to be wanted.
you shake your head, resisting the impulse to let him off easy, but how he’s looking at you… ugh. you can’t help it, you’re thinking with your pussy at this point.
"fine," you say, trying to sound annoyed even as your heart's practically pounding out of your chest. "one kiss, no tongue.”
his mouth actually drops open, and he's staring at you like you’ve just told him he can only have one fry out of the whole basket.
"no tongue?" he repeats, eyebrows practically hitting his hairline. he's doing this thing where his mouth opens and closes like he’s a fucking fish, "wait, please—what do you mean, no tongue?"
you only just manage to keep a straight face, because fuck, this is killing him, and it’s almost cute.
"exactly what i said," you nodd, crossing your arms with this wicked little smirk. "you wanted a kiss. you get one.”
he’s looking at you like you insulted his entire lineage, "c’mon, just a little tongue. you know you wann—"
“absolutely not,” you wrinkle your nose, laughing as you cut him off. maybe you do, but this is way more fun, watching him squirm.
“fine,” he groans, moving in close, the glint in his eye tells you he’s about to break all the rules the second he’s got you there. he leans in, almost sulking, and you feel him press a single, very tame, very tongue-free kiss to your lips, “so... no tongue later either? when ’m between your legs? 'cause i’d hate to break your rules.”
son of a bitch.
it’s useless to act unaffected when he’s looking at you like that.
“pull that shit again, rafe, and you’re getting blue balls for the next month.”
he looks scandalized, that smirk dropping as he watches you with wide, pleading eyes. “you wouldn’t.”
“play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
his jaw drops a little like he can’t decide whether to laugh or fall to his knees and beg for mercy. “you’re seriously cruel, y’know that?”
“course i do.”
404 notes · View notes
huh-i-guess · 3 days ago
Text
Paloma
(Captain John Price x F!Reader)
Summary: You all go to a club after a mission in Mexico and your drunken words have a sobering impact on your captain.
Warnings: SMUT 18+, daddy kink, embarrassingly drunk reader (no sex while she's drunk), spanking, choking, authority kink (?), age gap, unprotected sex, price gets nassssty
Word Count: ~ 6.3k
(Reader's callsign is Pepper)
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I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.
“Pepper. We’re waiting on you. What’s taking so long?” Simon gruffly inquired from the bottom of the stairs. “y/n what are you wearing?” He examined as he questioned your choice of club attire.
“A dress. Duh?” You deadpanned.
“WOAH.” Some of the guys gasped as you walked down the stairs.
“Steamin’ Jesus. Where’ve you been hiding these things?” Soap quipped.   
“You guys are acting like you've never seen me in civies before. They are just legs, come on. Leave me alone suds.” You swatted at the Scotsman that poked at your thighs.
“Pepper. I’ve seen you in civies before but not in a dress. Not this dress” Soap stated while his lips quired into a sly grin. 
“Yeah, I can't say I have either. You look beautiful though.” Gaz affirmed to your left.
“Thanks, Gaz.” You tilted your head in appreciation. Alejandro and Rudy walked in from the kitchen. Ale’s face brightened as he took in your appearance.
“¡Qué hermosa mi amor pero eso no es nuevo para ti!” Alejandro winked at you.  
“¡Gracias Ale!” You smiled as your face flushed with warmth. 
“You look gorgeous, sweet girl.” You looked over to the bench where your captain sat.
“Thank you, Captain.'' You smirked at Price's compliment as you watched his eyes rake down your body. Something about Price stirred things deep inside of you. Like a primal need. A want. A craving. But he’s your commanding officer so that’s all that he can ever be.
 A want. 
You fought the urge to clench your thighs together at his heavy gaze. His baby blues met yours and you felt yourself to suppress a shiver. Get it together.
“Okay let's go before they close the doors on us huh.” You cleared your throat and made your way to the door. 
~~~
You had just finished a massive bust and the team wanted to chill for a bit so you recommended clubbing. Did you recommend this because you miss shaking your ass and wanted to get drunk? Yes. Yes you did. You could only deal with so much testosterone for so long. It wasn’t like you hated being around the guys, you loved them, it was just that you sort of missed the thrill of getting hit on and it actually leading somewhere. The guys flirted with you all the time but it never went anywhere because at this point you were all family. It wasn’t even flirting anymore, it was like getting a compliment from a drunk aunt. 
You missed when flirting had an edge. When it led to you going home with someone and riding them till the sun came up. Some small part of you missed being treated like a girl. You appreciated that the guys saw you as one of them but at some point you have to remember that you have needs… parts you have to have filled. 
Price treated you the same as all of the guys and part of you appreciated it but his “flirting” always had a different air to it. Like he wasn’t trying to rile you up or ruffle your feathers. It was like he wanted you to hear everything he said and take it to heart. Like he meant it. Clubbing could also serve as a distraction from your feelings about the man. It wasn’t fair that he could occupy so much space in your brain. 
So you styled your hair, put on a face, slipped on a cute but always comfortable pair of heels, and a dress that damn near guarantees you’ll get laid. And made your decision to kick back and take your mind off of Price.
~~~
“So… Can I get drunk tonight?” You looked at Price for an answer and batted your mascara covered lashes.
“Why are you looking at me? You’re a grown woman and you don’t need my permission to do things.” Price rasped avoiding eye contact as he gripped the wheel. 
“Okay cool. So then you don't have a problem with me going home with someone tonight?” You probed watching as his hand white knuckle gripped the steering wheel. The men behind you fighting to hold in giggles knowing their captain’s feelings for you that he has yet to admit.
“Now why would I have a problem with that, Pepper?” Sounds like he has a problem with it, you thought. You chuckled and looked out of the window as you watched the stone fences eventually turn to trees. Alejandro’s car in front of you eventually came to a stop outside of the club. All of you regrouped at the door and made your way in. It always felt a little weird being one woman walking in with a gaggle of 6 men on your tail but you’ve been in weirder situations. You grabbed a booth on the far side of the club. Making sure to have easy, clear views of all of the exits. 
“Okay. I'm going to the bar to have a drink. Please don't come over unless you need something. You guys have a tendency to scare… people away.” You laughed and winked as you made your way to the bar. You spotted a handsome man who appeared to be having a drink with his friends and you knew you had to get his name. 
“The huntress is on the prowl, Price. You gonna do anything about that tonight?” Soap questioned his captain with a low whistle.
“Soap. I have no clue what you are talking about.” Price denies.
“Ay dios mio. Captain, you play the fool so well. We all know how you feel about her and I think she knows too. We are in Mexíco. My people do not play when it comes to beautiful women.” Alejandro began as he lifted himself from the booth. “I saw at least four others whose jaws dropped when she walked in. You will miss your chance with her here if you keep being shy.” Alejandro chipped with more bravery than his brothers at the table before he patted Price on the back and made his way over to a beautiful woman he had locked eyes with the moment he stepped foot in the club. 
After a while you got bored of the man you were talking to. He was a beautiful man but lacked any depth and honestly didn't seem like he could do any of the things you need a man to do. You stayed up at the bar and turned back to look at your group's table. Almost all of your group had been dispersed throughout the club. The only ones left at the table were Price and Rodolfo. They seemed to be deep in conversation and enjoying themselves so you smiled and headed to the dance floor. 
You found a group of girls to dance with that seemed to be having a good time and you asked if you could join their group just to dance for a bit and were welcomed with open arms and kisses brought to your face. You missed being like this. It's been ages since you hung out with a group solely made up of women. You quickly learned their names and where they were from. They were from all over the world and just spent time traveling together across the world as a group. The group was composed of some of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen and you felt great being accepted into their group. Mara was from Brazil, Tati from Puerto Rico and a number of other girls from a variety of countries. Tati had been eyeing Gaz all night and you knew that they’d hit it off deciding to introduce them later in the night. Your priority at the moment was dancing and having a good time.
Although you were in a Mexican club, they played all kinds of Latin Music and even random hints of American Music. Anything that you could move to, you moved to. From Destiny’s Child to Bad Bunny to Kali Uchis to artists you’d never heard of. You and Mara had been platonically grinding on each other for a major portion of the night. Your hips had minds of their own and moved any which way. Your system was flooded with an indiscriminate number of margaritas and palomas so you felt like you were on cloud nine. Your hips hadn’t stopped moving even as you felt a pair of eyes on you. The heat of the gaze could only belong to one man in this club. 
 You looked back to the table and locked eyes with Price. You smiled, felt a wave of confidence, and blew him a kiss before you turned back to Mara, Tati and the others.  La Romana by Bad Bunny and El Alfa came on and you all were locked in place on the dance floor. The tequila from the drinks you downed had you feeling like the only thing that mattered in the world was dancing to this song with these girls that you quite literally just met.
 You and the girls danced to the song as if you were the only people on the floor. Tati started rapping El Alfa’s part as all of the inhibitions exited your body. You couldn’t even call it dancing anymore because at this point it was just cheering as the gorgeous woman next to you rattled off in Spanish. By the time the song ended and you were out of breath and drenched in sweat. You raised your voice over the music as you drew the girls in and let them know that you had to take a break. You were met with a number of hugs and kisses to your cheeks as you turned to slip from the crowd. You decided to stop at the bar for another drink and turned back to the table. The liquor coursing through you made it feel like you were floating as you made your way back over to the table with your fruity cocktail in hand. 
Price’s eyes followed each step that you took and he stared at you with a burning gaze. The heat of his stare felt like a rope as the intensity pulled you closer and closer to him. You eventually closed the distance between the two of you and plopped down next to him. You were most definitely invading his personal space, but he just sat with the slightest smirk on his lips. 
“You look like you’re having fun out there, sweet girl.” He said as bumped his shoulder into yours. Your mouth was moving before your brain could even formulate a response. You never really did kick the habit of rambling when you got drunk. That little fact about you and Price’s watchful eyes had you loose. Absolutely no control over your body or your mouth, so you rambled. 
“I would be having so much more fun out there with you, daddy. Those girls are so sweet though. Mara and Tati and I think someone named Olivia. I can't really remember but I think Tati and Gaz would be so cute together.” You leaned into Price and lovingly looked into his baby blues. For some reason you grabbed his hand. “I haven’t danced like that in so long. Did you see my hips? It was like they had a mind of their own. Feel like I'm gonna be sore in the morning. Ugh, Daddy you should’ve joined me out there. Wanted to feel you behind me. Grabbing my hips and guiding them. Might’ve even put your hand on my throat and let you choke me a little.” The filth slipped from your mouth with a giggle and you hadn’t even realized the gravity of the comments you'd been making. You’d called him “daddy” twice. Not once but twice. 
Price stared at you dumbfounded. He felt his dick twitch in his trousers. Of course he’d been watching you from the moment you left the table to the moment you set foot on the dancefloor. He watched you meet the girls, open your arms, and be welcomed with kisses and giggles. Watching the interaction had him feeling things. His mind told him was too old for you. It told him that he was old enough to be your father and he already was your superior.
He’d watched you play with the lad at the bar who hadn’t even realized how out of his league you were. Price’s mind told him that you have all of these young men at your disposal. The doubts about his age flooded his mind. Why would you want him? You deserve someone who can keep up with you. Someone young and energetic.
His doubts were put on the back burner when you blew that kiss to him. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. When you damn near skipped over to him his heart was replaced by a warmth. When you called him “daddy” his cock stood at attention and his doubts had flown far from his mind. 
“Sweet girl, how many have you had tonight?” He groaned. 
“Like 4 shots of tequila and a few palomas? Have you had one yet? I think it's the national drink of Mexico or something like that” You chirped. 
“You know that I won't enjoy that. Barely enjoying this sorry excuse of a whiskey.” You pushed the cocktail over to him. 
“Please just give it a try for me, daddy? I tried that scotch the other night and I almost passed out from how strong it was.” Price let out a long sigh and looked into your eyes as he grabbed your glass and took a sip of the grapefruit cocktail. The smile plastered on your face was enough to melt his heart. He felt the cold liquid hit his tongue and was immediately hit with the sweet tang of grapefruit and the light punch of tequila. He would never admit it, but he actually enjoyed the slight tangy and sweetness of the drink. He faked a grimace and placed your glass back on the napkin. 
“Happy, love?” You giggled in his ear and kissed his cheek. Your brain hadn’t even registered what you’d called him just a moment ago. His eyes met yours.  “y/n, I don't want you going home with anyone tonight.” Price stated with a serious tone. He almost sounded how he did when you went on missions and he’d used your real name. Not your call sign or a term of endearment. 
“Daddy, don’t be so serious, I wasn’t planning on it.” You leaned into his ear as the words flowed from your lips, sweet and syrup-like. “ I just wanted to look pretty for you. Maybe sit on your lap and dance a little but you can be so stubborn.” Price turned his head and looked at you with wide eyes. Full of lust but also full of shock at your gall. 
“Love, I think I should take you home. You’ve had quite a lot tonight.” You leaned into him and pressed a giggly kiss to his cheek. 
“Only because it's you, okay. You really don't want to dance with me. Not even one song?” You practically begged as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 
“Let's see if you can even stand up on your own, Love.” 
“Of course I can.” You stood up and felt like the world had left you behind as wobbled on shaky feet. 
“Mhm. Let's go home.” Price affirmed and you frowned, but immediately thought of Tati and Gaz.
“Wait. Tati and Gaz. They need to know each other. Let me introduce them, please daddy.” With a long sigh that was meant to calm himself, he nodded and let you drag him to the dance floor. Of course you had hopes of playing matchmaker tonight. He chuckled a little at the fact that you always had the best interest of the team at heart. 
When you spotted Tati, she looked at you, and then at the 6'2 man planted firmly behind you. Her smiling face began to reflect one of concern as a frown crossed her stunning features. She tried to convince you to stay with her to make sure you weren't being taken advantage of in your state of intoxication. You felt your heart warm at the act of consideration, but let her know that you know him, trust him, and love him. Loud enough for him and everyone around you to hear over the music. His eyes widened and his face immediately flushed into a shade of deep red. He cleared his throat and grabbed your phone. He asked for the girl's number while you leaned on him and looked at him like he roped the moon out of the sky for you. He’d definitely remember the dopey love struck look that was painted on your face. 
He let you take Tati over to Gaz. Gaz, Soap, and Simon had been planted at the bar drinking and laughing with each other before you tapped Kyle on the shoulder. He turned around and was met with the sight of you, very much inebriated and giggly, arm intertwined with Price’s as you leaned onto him while holding onto Tati’s hand. Kyle and the others were glad to see you clinging onto Price and watched the interaction in fascination. 
“Kyle. Tati. Handsome man meet stunning woman.” You hummed while pushing Tati toward Kyle, feeling satisfied with your matchmaking skills. “Daddy, let's go home.” You looked up at Price. Soap’s mouth dropped open as soon as the word slipped from your mouth but quickly clamped it shut as he locked eyes with his ever serious captain. Simon just shook his head, not completely in disbelief at your comment, but more in amusement that you’d been drunk enough to say something like that in front of the others. Gaz’s eyes widened because he definitely heard you call your captain, daddy, but he threw on a smooth grin as he looked over to the beautiful woman that you brought along with you. He was torn between clowning you for your kinky admission or letting it slide. He ultimately decided to put it on the back burner as the gorgeous woman locked eyes with his. You whipped your body around and stumbled your way toward the door. 
Price basically carried you to the car. He was supporting most of your body weight with his as he chuckled while navigating the two of you through the gravel filled parking lot. The pair of you reached the Black SUV and Price swept you into his arms as he opened the car door. 
“In we go, love.” As he situated you securely in the passenger seat. Just as he was about to close the door you slurred out a “wait.”
“What do you need, sweet girl?”
“I’m sorry for being like this, daddy. I just wanted to have fun. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” He chuckled and brought your hand up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hand.
“You’re not a burden, love. You just had a bit too much to drink. It happens. As long as you had fun, I really don’t mind it.”
“God,” you said with a sigh, “You’re so hot. Can we have sex?” The warmth returned to his face at the admission. He had no intentions of doing anything with you tonight except maybe brushing your teeth and tucking you into bed. He sighed with a soft smile and closed the door. 
“You truly are something special.” He said into the nothingness as he walked around the car.
The rest of the night was a blur for you but all you remember was Price carrying you back into the safe house then lying in the soft covers of a bed and finally drifting out of consciousness.
Price sat next to you in bed and watched your sleeping figure as your soft snores filled his ears. When he was satisfied with the amount of breaths that fell from your lips, he lowered himself into the sheets next to you and lost his own battle with consciousness. 
--- --- ---
When you awoke, you were met with the sight of an empty bed and the sun shining through the flowing curtains. You looked over to the on-suite and saw your burly captain brushing his teeth at the sink. You released a content sigh as you turned onto your side. You felt yourself being pulled back into the warm embrace of sleep but as soon as you were at the cusp of consciousness, you felt the bed dip next to you. You kept your eyes closed but felt your captain just sitting there. You heard his breaths as he sat motionless next to you. The air grew tense as a beat of silence passed. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the heat of his gaze. Was he just staring at you? Was he going to say anything? 
“What are you doing?” You probed, anticipating a gruff response.
No reply and then a long, heady sigh. 
You started to turn your head until you felt a warm, firm body press against your back. Price’s body molded into yours as he reached around your front to find the hand that rested on the sheets. His hand found yours and you gawked at the difference in size. His hand engulfed yours in a warm embrace as he gave it a soft squeeze. His face nuzzled into the nape of your neck as he filled his lungs with your scent. His hairy chest was snug against your back as you felt his lips purse against your warm skin. 
The tension grew as he shifted his hips forward against yours. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his bulge firm against your ass. He let out a low hum behind you at the feel of your soft bottom against him. Your mind started running through scenarios as you tried to recall the events that took place last night. How did you end up in bed with your captain? Did you fuck your captain? Did you do what you’ve been craving since your first meeting almost two years ago?
“We should talk about it, love.” He said with a firm squeeze to your hand. 
“Did we… Did we have sex last night?” The words came out far meeker than you had intended. He let out a small sigh and pushed his head deeper into the crook of your neck. 
“No.” Before he placed a soft kiss against the side of your neck. You felt a chill run down your spine at the intimate act. “You were far too inebriated for me to feel comfortable doing anything to you.” He hummed as he began to pepper delicate kisses on your neck.
“I wanted you to.” Slide its way, breathlessly and truthfully, from your lips. 
“I know.” His hips shifted into yours, allowing you to feel him fully. Feel the warm, firm thickness that John had hidden under his shorts. “You looked stunning last night. Seeing you free and enjoying yourself like that, it made me feel things.” A gasp slipped from your lips as you felt his cock twitch against your bum. “Things I thought I had buried. Things that aren't right. Things that I shouldn’t feel about you.” He rocked his hips into you as his hand tightened around yours. “Then you danced your way over to me, looking at me like I hung the moon in the sky. Calling me what you did.” He groaned in your ear at the memory as he rolled his covered length into your behind. “You remember what you called me, love?” A fervent pulse into your rear. His hand left yours and trailed its way up your front, stopping just under your breast. 
You couldn’t say anything. Your mind had just gone blank as your captain began to frot into your clothed ass. “Hm? Do you remember, sweet girl?” His hand made its way into the valley of your breasts and he pressed, pushing your torso impossibly close to his. Your back and ass flush against the mountain of a man. 
“I-”
“Do you need me to remind you?” His hips curled into yours. Your thighs tightened and your pussy clenched around nothing. Air slipped from your mouth as your words were trapped in your throat. Lost searching for words as his cock rubbed into the covered crevice of your ass. The intimacy of the act had dulled your thoughts. The only thing that filled your mind was him and the effect that he had on you. 
“Ah. I- Price.” 
“No. Not that. That's not what you called me seven times.” His hand made its way to your gulping throat. “That’s not the name you used. No, I don't think so. That's not what you said in front of the others.” You pressed your ass into him needing to feel more of the thick bulge that was trapped between you, your underwear and his. 
“Please.” Was all that you could conjure as your mind told you to take matters into your own hands. Your trembling hand made its way between the two of you searching for the thick length that was causing the blankness in your mind. The man jerked his hips away from you. Away from your desperate touch. 
“Ah ah. Not until you say it. I know you know it sweet girl. You wouldn’t let me forget it last night.” His voice had a deep, raspy quality to it that you’d never heard from him before. It set your core ablaze. 
“Captain please.” His grip on your throat began to constrict as your hand searched behind you desperately seeking the source of warmth you’d just lost.
“Getting closer.” His other hand slipped under your neck and replaced the hand he had tightening on your throat. The hand that was originally at your throat made its way down your body as you trembled at the sensation of his warm fingers teasing your body. 
“Mmmmmm fuck. Please please. I-” His fingers made their way into the waistband of your absolutely drenched panties. Your hips twitched at the sensation. He pressed his palm just above where you needed him. His breathing deepened in your ear. He growled in your ear. Deep, full bodied like a scotch. Gravelly.
“Say it.” Your hips twitched at the command. 
“Price I- please I’m-,” the words racked your brain as you tried to concentrate. His fingers on your pubic mound just began to tap. Light yet so impactful as his fingers just danced upon you. You tilted your hips upward trying to catch their movement just a bit lower. So close to where you needed him. The words tumbled out of your mouth at breakneck speeds.
“Daddy, please.” You were almost crying now. He tugged your ear lobe between his teeth as he sank two fingers into your weeping pussy.
“Oh fuck yes.”
“Say it again, sweet girl.” No hesitation. No stammer. 
“Daddy. Fuck.” He rocked his hips back into yours as he plunged in and out of you. The meat of his palm rubbed harshly against your puffy clit. An exhale forced itself from your lips that was soon accompanied by a low whine.
“You wouldn’t stop fucking looking at me last night.” Rock.
He licked the side of your neck as he breathed heavily against your ear. He curled his fingers inside of you as the breaths were forced from your lungs. 
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Rock.
“Like you had some kind of spell on me. Your hips. Watching them sway in that dress.” Rock.
“You- uh fuck- wouldn’t stop.” He groaned as he pushed his fingers in further. Rock.
“You insatiable little slut. I shouldn’t even fuck you right now.” His hand constricted around your throat again. The man was tearing you apart with just his fingers and his voice.
“I- oh my god. I’m so sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean it.” The groan that ripped from his throat shifted something inside of you. You needed to hear him make that sound again. Your hand fumbled behind you as you searched for his cock. John tilted his head away from your ear as he watched your clumsy ministrations. You, frantically searched behind you. 
“Desperate girl.” He chuckled over your shoulder. 
“Please, daddy. I just. I wanna make it better.” Maybe you were desperate. You really couldn’t care because the thing your really needed was so close yet being shielded from you by fucking fabric. “John fucking help me.” 
Wrong answer. 
He pulled his fingers from you and rolled out of the bed. Your body followed as he stood up. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please just- can you just-” Frustration was not a strong enough word to describe your feelings.
“Lie on your stomach.”
“Huh?”
“I won't repeat myself.” You wouldn’t even give him the chance to repeat himself as you laid yourself flat on the bed. 
“Hands behind your back.” You complied. Of course you did.
He gathered your wrists in his hand and ran his palm over the covered globe of your ass and you shivered at the touch. He yanked your panties down to your thighs and your newly exposed pussy fluttered at the change in temperature. 
“Fucking gorgeous. God look at that little pussy. It's too bad though.” You couldn’t see what he was doing behind you but your hips twitched in anticipation. 
Apologize. Yeah that’s what you should do. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you feel good.” 
Smack.
An exhale left your lips that you didn’t even know you'd been holding. The pain hadn’t even fully begun before he dropped his palm onto the other cheek. You rocked your hips back in shock. 
“You don’t like to listen, sweet girl. No. You don’t think, do you?” The sting was red hot on your ass and you somehow couldn’t stop your pussy from clenching. He pressed your hands into your back and forced you to arch for him. He ran a thumb down your dripping slit. He dipped the tip of the thumb, just barely, into the opening of your weeping center. You shifted your weight back, further into his touch, and let out a soft moan. 
Smack. 
You pressed forward into the bed hoping to run from the sting that blossomed on your ass. 
“I’m sorry, daddy.” You whined.
“Sit still.” 
“Yes, daddy.” 
He let go of your hands and moved his own to the burning flesh that encompassed your ass. His hands squeezed and groped, kneaded, the plump fat that sat at your hips. 
“Calm down, sweet girl.” He soothed. With a firm grip of your ass, he turned his thumbs inward, and pulled the stinging cheeks apart. His thumbs sat just above your drenched slit. He pursed his lips and pushed a drop of spit from his lips. It landed on your perineum and trickled its way into your opening. You tried to still your hips as your mind conjured a visual of the filthy act. The picture you painted in your head had you shivering. 
“Are you gonna be good for me, love?”
“Yes, daddy.” You eagerly nodded your head against the pillow. 
He hummed behind you as he kneeled above your trembling body. He grabbed your hips and tilted them upward, deepening the arch of your spine. He pressed his weight against you as he shifted his own hips forward. His underwear was gone. You could finally feel just how massive he was as he shifted his bare hips into yours. He pressed his cock down between the globes of your ass and he rocked his weight into you. A light whimper left your lips as you felt the girth that hung between his legs. He pressed his thumb onto his cock and sank it down into your wet heat. 
The stretch was blinding as you forced yourself to calm your breathing and you felt him work your open on his cock. Your body shook as he made room for himself inside of you. It felt like the air had been pressed from your lungs. 
“Oh god yes. Thank you, daddy.” 
“Tight as a bloody vice.” A deep groan tumbled from his mouth as he dropped all of his body weight onto you. He let you adjust to his girth before he repositioned his arms and legs so he could support himself and fuck you proper. He pulsed his hips forward and you swear that you could feel him at your cervix. The kiss of his cockhead at your center sent a shiver through your body. 
“So fucking deep, daddy.”
“Yeah I am.” He sighed quietly. He rocked his hips into you again and you keened. You reached your hand up to his, needing to hold onto something as you prepared for what was to come. His thrusts began to pick up speed as he fucked you into the mattress. The only thing that could be heard in the room was the sound of his hips slapping into yours and your quick releases of air as he fucked into you. A ragged growl left his throat as he straightened his legs and grabbed your neck. It was a blur of colors and gasps as he shifted the two of you over. He laid on his back with your back to his chest and planted his feet firm into the mattress. He slipped a hand around your front and found your neglected clit. His hips met your ass with a fierce clap. The sounds that left your mouth were quick little yaps as he fucked up into you. The change in angles had you feeling him even deeper than before and you were about to start seeing stars.  
You’d never been fucked like this. His hips shot upward and brought yours back down as they descended. The pressure of him driving into your aching pussy along with the tight, firm circles on your clit had you clenching tightly onto his cock. He was hitting all the right spots deep inside of you and taking care of your clit just the way you needed. All you could do was lay on top of him and take it as he basically used your body. His breathing had gone ragged as he pounded you.  
“Daddy I-”
“What sweet girl? Is it too much for you?” He smirked, out of breath beneath you as he pounded into your pussy. He stopped the circular movements on your clit as he pulled his hand away from your body. A frustrated goan fell from your lips at their removal. The groan was short-lived as tight gasp replaced it. Price quickly dropped his hand back down onto your clit in a sharp slap.
“Oh my god.” You squeaked.
He chuckled behind you and did it again. The sting from his motion had melded perfectly with the pleasure of him digging into you. Your pussy tightened around him as the sensations of his actions pushed you closer to the edge. He brought his hand back down onto your puffy clit and sighed into your ear. The only thing that slipped from your mouth were the short moans that were being punched out of you as you took what he gave you. 
“You gonna cum, sweet girl?” He taunted over your shoulder. His condescending tone had your pussy bearing down onto him. 
“Fuck. I feel you tightening up on me.” His voice had started to sound almost surprised as he made you take him. He placed his hand back on your pussy and used his index finger to rub small, intense circles on your clit. 
“I’m gonna cum, sweet girl. Where can I? Huh? Can I cum in you?” He ragged under you. 
“Fuck yes. Yes, daddy. Yes.”
“You gonna let me fill you up? Huh?” He sounded absolutely feral. He applied firmer pressure to your clit as he groaned into your shoulder. 
“Oh fuck, daddy” You threw your head back and dropped all of your weight onto him as you felt your release flood your system. Your back arched and your toes curled as you struggled to take air into your lungs. The intensity of the orgasm rendered you speechless and helpless as it washed upon you. Price’s movements grew sloppy as he tried to walk you through your release. You ground your hips into his as you rode out your high. 
“Fucking shit.” You felt your captain throb inside of you as he emptied himself into your aching cunt. You felt the warmth grow inside of you as his seed flooded your warm walls. 
He straightened out his legs and layed the two of you onto your sides. He left his softening cock inside of you as he wrapped an arm around your sweat drenched torso. All that could be heard in the room was the sound of your breaths syncing up as you laid there in bliss.  
“Holy shit.” You panted. 
“Mhm. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He sighed, breathlessly as he traced your senseless shapes onto your stomach.
“Yeah? Me too.”  You smiled as you turned your head to partially face him. 
“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” His baby blues met your gaze.
“Because you’re a stubborn man.” A satisfied chuckle fell from his lips as he smiled at you.
“I guess so.” 
A beat passed as the two looked into each other's eyes. Your breaths had fallen in sync with one another.
“You told your friend that you loved me.” Somehow, more warmth spreads across your face and your eyes widen and his smile grows. 
“I- I do.” You said, meek as a mouse, as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. 
He leans over and places a soft, tender kiss to your lips. His lips feel surprisingly soft and only mildly chapped as they move against yours. He pulls back from you, breathless, as his eyes lock onto yours. 
“I love you too, sweet girl.” 
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sxorpiomooon · 1 day ago
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How would a tarot reader describe you to them? A pac reading
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Pile 1-
They would describe you as someone who knows when to strike. Someone who's patient and knows when to grab the opportunity, someone who understands the value of the right timing. I had a vision of a cheetah then a cat in their attacking mode waiting to grab their prey. Someone who's hardworking and very detail oriented about their work. Someone who's very traditional too and likes to go by the rules, someone who might also be religious and a good teacher. Someone who teaches very good and will have their juniors looking at them for advices and approval of any sort. Someone who looks for a very equal partnership I'm seeing a lot of this reading revolving around career you'll meet this person when you are working and pretty settled I'm getting 24 or late 20s. This will also be a very true love they might talk about how you will both be equals in relationship and work like a team. I also heard "bosslady"?
Pile 2-
Someone who feels too much guilty about everything, you might be going through a bad phase I think. This pile is most likely to have a very hard terrible time growing up hating themselves and everything and once they grow up they will be all about loving themselves and others, true enlightenment. A lot of rage which is the result of love. Someone who is also probably learning or will learn to see themselves for who they truly are that is, someone who is always in the spotlight and comfortable in it. Someone who always attracts everyone wherever they go I'm seeing sparkly eyeshadow? Golden and blue you might love to dress or style other people up.
Pile 3-
Someone who can give the most heartwarming compliments as well as the most ruthless insults. This reading will be mostly focused on your communication skills. Someone very sure of who they are and their identity. Someone who is capable of making things happen and make sure to do so. Someone who is very blunt and can come across as very blunt sometimes. Someone who goes to the root of the problem to solve it very extraordinary communication skills. Someone who is very insightful and might all of a sudden get inspiration of things I'm seeing a very big map or something. Looking at the other card it makes sense lmao someone who wants to do alot of things just for the sake of doing them. Someone who genuinely lives and experiences.
Pile 4-
Someone very resilient and determined. Someone who just refuses to give up no matter what. Someone who endures very well I had a vision of someone just breathing in a big sun in their chest. Accepting everything like it's your own. Someone who knows how to overcome obstacles. Someone who over analyses and has a very restless mind. I had a vision of someone constantly doing that thing with leg where they are always moving it anxiously. Someone who will achieve alot purely because of their hardwork, determination and resilience. This pile probably needs to hear this, you are going to make it very big pile 4 keep working hard.
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dreamescapeswriting · 2 days ago
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Through The Façade ~ MYG [MATURE WARNING]
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‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 7.2K
‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ GENRE: arranged marriage, TRIGGER WARNING MENTIONS OF ABUSE FROM FATHER, BEING HIT IN ONE SCENE PLEASE DONT READ IF IT’LL TRIGGER YOU, T MINORS DNI!!! yoongi being a simp for reader, forgiveness, fluffy ending, smut,
‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024
‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST
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The ceremony had been flawless, beautiful and absoutelyly flawless. Everythign had been planned out perfectly by your father and it was meticulously orchestrated and over the top. Done to display of wealth and elegance, the union of two powerful chaebol families, something you had begged your father not to do but, did he listen? No. You'd wanted something small, just you and Yoongi's family since th two of you didn't know each other but it was all pushed aside.
Your wants weren't important despite it being your wedding and you were mostly ignored and your mother and father planned the whole affiar. The guests were a sea of familiar faces, but none of them mattered, you hardly knew any of them by name and they mostly referred to you as "Yoongi's wife" or "Mr YLN's daughter" No one was there for you. Your hands had trembled through the entire ceremony, the weight of the vows, the cameras, and the expectations crushing you it felt like there were a million pairs of eyes focused on you. But now, behind the closed door of the changing room, you could finally breathe.
You exhaled, leaning against the vanity, your fingers gripping the edge tightly. The dress you were wearing was something your mother had picked, a huge puffy thing to display your wealth. If it was your choice you would have gone for something elegant and small, plain...simple. Nothing like this. The money would have gone to something much better.
The soft hum of the celebration continued outside, muffled by the heavy door, but the isolation here was a brief relief. You didn't want to go out there and plaster on the fake facade you'd mastered over the years, you just wanted time to yourself, time to breathe.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and you stiffened, no one was supposed to come back here and you panicked wondering if your father had come to hand out one of his speeches to you reminding you not to fuck everything up.
In the mirror, you saw Yoongi enter the room, his expression hardened, his sharp features set in a grim line. Swallowin the lump in your throat you stood up straight and brushed down the dress, trying to make it look as if you were just reaplying your make up.
Your father told you that Yoongi iked his women pretty and silent and that was exactly what you were trying to be. The perfect wife for the perfecg man. He closed the door behind him with a resounding click, the finality of the sound sending a chill down your spine.
He said nothing at first, just stood there with his arms crossed, eyes scanning over you as if appraising something he already disliked. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. How did he already hate you? You'd barely uttered a word except for the vows and you wanted things to be smooth between you both,
“Hey...Do you need something? I think I have emerency snakcs in my back if you're hungry,” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt strange—awkward—to address him, to speak to him without your father present was even weirder. You were a little stunned that your dad was even allowing it in the first place since usually he hated you speaking out of turn. But yoongi was your husband now, sooner or later you'd be left alone but even still, he felt like a stranger. Yoongi scoffed, shaking his head as he looked you up and down.
“Do I need something?” he echoed mockingly.
“I need to understand how the hell I got roped into this. But I guess that’s obvious, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for your answer before taking a step closer, his movements sharp with frustration.
“This whole thing—it’s a farce. A business deal. And you—" He gestured toward you with disdain.
“You’re the perfect little pawn, aren’t you? Just like everyone said you would be.” You frowned, trying to process his sudden hostility. You thought all of this had been planned between both of your families, that his side wanted this just as much as you,
“What are you talking about? Dad said-”
“Dad said what? Do you think I seriously want to be with you?” His voice was icy, his eyes narrowed in accusation. His gaze felt like tiny daggers in your chest as you stared back at him, you did your best to appear confident.
“You think I don’t know about you? Your reputation? The tabloids have painted a very clear picture. Daddy’s little princess, spoiled beyond belief, doing nothing but spending money and making headlines. Everyone knows you’re shallow and selfish.” His words cut deep, sharper than you expected. You had spent years ignoring the rumours, the gossip, and the false stories about your life, but hearing it from him—your husband, who didn’t know you—made it hurt in a way you weren’t prepared for.
You straightened up, keeping your tone as calm as you could manage. No one was supposed to listen to what the tabloids said, if they did you would have had six kids and been married years ago according to those liars in the media.
“You’re basing your opinion of me on tabloid gossip?” Your voice shook ever so slightly but you weren't going to back down from this. He gave a short, bitter laugh.
“Why wouldn’t I? Everything about you screams entitled. Look at this wedding! The dress, the flowers, the venue. You’re playing the role perfectly, aren’t you? The helpless daughter of a chaebol, marrying for convenience.” Your heart pounded in your chest, each word stoking a fire of resentment inside you. You had been pushed into this marriage just as much as he had, and you’d done everything to survive under the weight of your family’s demands. But now, being judged for it without a chance to defend yourself—it was too much.
“I didn’t ask for this either,” you shot back, your voice rising as anger began to seep through.
“Do you think I wanted to be paraded around like a prize horse? Do you think I enjoy being talked about like I’m just some shallow, spoiled girl? You think I wanted some big fuckin bullshit wedding?!” You slapped your hand over your mouth realising you'd overstepped a little but Yoongi’s expression remained cold, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, a little surprise.
“You don't know me,” you continued, stepping toward him, your hands trembling at your sides. You'd never stood up to anyone in your life but you were going to damned if you would let this bullshit with him continue,
“You’re judging me based on rumors. Headlines written by people who don’t know the first thing about my life.”
“Oh, I think I know enough,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp.
“People like you don’t have to try. You’ve never worked a day in your life, and you wouldn’t know what hardship looks like if it slapped you in the face.” His words were like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you felt your resolve falter. But you quickly steeled yourself, if he wanted a fight, you weren’t going to back down.
“And what about you?” you snapped, your voice louder now, almost echoing in the small room.
“You think you’re any different? You’re standing here in a tuxedo that costs more than most people make in a year, and you have the nerve to talk about hardship? You don’t know anything about my life, Yoongi.” He clenched his jaw, clearly not expecting you to defend yourself. The silence between you stretched for a long moment, filled with tension. He stared at you, his eyes hard and unreadable, as if he were trying to find some crack in your words, something to validate his preconceptions.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he finally said, his voice quieter now but still laced with bitterness.
“I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be tied down to someone who doesn’t care about anything but herself.” Your breath hitched in your throat. You knew this was an arranged marriage, but hearing him say it out loud...that he really didn’t want this. He really didn’t want you, it killed you a little inside.
Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, you weren't goign to give him the satisifcation of knowing that he broke you.
“You think I wanted this either?” you whispered, refusing to look in his direction,
“You think I wanted to marry someone who hated me before even knowing me?” He didn’t respond, and for a moment, the silence between you felt unbearable. The weight of the situation pressed down on you both—two people forced into a marriage neither of you wanted, bound by family expectations and years of societal pressure.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” you said, breaking the silence. Your voice was a little stronger this time as you stared over in his direction, an iron will plastered across your face,
“But lest you suffer vertigo from your moral highground but acting like you’re any different. We’re both stuck in this, whether we like it or not.” Yoongi’s eyes flickered showing, guilt? It was impossible to tell, but he said nothing, simply standing there as if he were battling some inner turmoil.
"Photo time!" Someone called from the door and you picked up the bottom of your dress, walking past your husband and going to join the rest of the party. Falling back into the "pretty princess" routine you'd mastered over the years.
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Weeks had passed since the wedding, and the tension between you and Yoongi remained thick and unresolved. The two of you shared his penthouse apartment but you made sure to avoid each other at all costs. While he was working you moved freely around the place, doing all of your hobbies and enjoying the piece but when he was home you were gone. The whole place was silently, so quiet the staff were almost scared to move around.
Yoongi wasn't stupid though, on the days he didn't work you had made a habit of disappearing from the apartment for hours, sometimes entire evenings. Every time you came back, you barely spoke to him, retreating to your own space, keeping your distance. He couldn’t tell if it was resentment or something else, but it gnawed at him. He thought he'd wanted it, the silence. The peace.
It was everything he'd known for years but it felt weird having you live there and no speaking to each other besides "goodnight" if you happened to bump into each other. Or asking if the other one had eaten yet.
One night, after you'd left without a word again, Yoongi finally had enough. His frustration had been simmering for days, and the mystery surrounding your late-night absences only fueled his suspicions. He grabbed his keys, following the trail you'd left behind.
It wasn’t difficult to follow you—he had resources, after all, and within the hour, he found himself parked outside a grand building, far from the world of nightclubs or lavish parties he'd expected. A charity auction?
His brows furrowed in confusion. He stepped out of the car, slipping inside unnoticed, staying in the shadows as he tried to make sense of what was going on.
When he saw you sneaking out he figurd you were going to meet some secret fling or friends but this wasn't what he was expecting at all...or even close to it.
The room was filled with elegantly dressed people, sipping champagne and mingling beneath chandeliers. You were at the center of it all, standing near the stage, smiling warmly as you chatted with guests. Yoongi watched, his eyes narrowing as he tried to reconcile the on the stage with the image he had of you in his mind. This wasn't anything like he'd been expecting when he saw tabloid photos of you leaving hotels.
"She's lovely, isn’t she?" A voice to his left caught him off guard. He turned to see an elderly woman, smiling fondly as she looked in your direction.
"Excuse me?" Yoongi asked, masking his confusion. The lady moved closer to him and smiled as she eaned on her zimmer frame, Yoongi offered her his arm and she gladly took it.
"The young lady running the auction,” the woman said, nodding toward you, Yoongi glanced back at you. Taking in the stunning dress you were wearing that clung to every single part of your body showing him what he was missing out on by not being friendly with you.
“She’s been organizing this event for the past six years. Always so generous with her time and donations. We’re lucky to have someone like her supporting our cause.” Yoongi’s mind went blank for a second. Siz years?
"She organized this?" he asked, disbelief lacing his voice. He glanced around the room, it looked as if it had been done by professonals and this lady was telling him you'd done all of this?
"Oh yes,” the woman replied, her eyes shining with admiration.
“She’s quite the visionary. She plans for weeks, sometimes months on end before we host an event together," She chuckled softly as she took Yoongi toward a table, the two of them sitting down together and looking over at you. You were smiling brightly and speaking into the mircropphone, you looked...at peace here.
Here, you looked like someone who enjoyed what you were doing, as if you didn't have a single care but this charity in the world.
"She does? I thought she was a party princess." He grumbles a little and the lady scoffs,
"She plays her part well but she hates that shit," Yoongi laughed at the crude language coming from such a sweet old lady,
"She's smart, too. She always has new ideas to help raise funds for the shelter.” The woman paused, looking at Yoongi with curiosity, noting the wedding band on his finger.
“Are you a friend of hers?” Yoongi didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mind was spinning as he watched you laugh softly with a group of guests, the warmth in your eyes, the genuine kindness in your smile.
"Husband," He whispered finally. Guilt gnawing at him as he realised everything he had assumed about you—your selfishness, your shallow nature—it all began to unravel in front of him. You weren’t the person the tabloids made you out to be, and certainly not the spoiled brat he had convinced himself you were.
“Excuse me,” Yoongi muttered, barely hearing the woman’s farewell as he made his way to the other side of the room, closer to where you stood. He stayed just out of sight, observing, listening to the way people spoke about you.
“She’s always been so generous,” another guest commented, her voice dripping with admiration.
“I don't know what we'd do without her... she’s so down to earth,” another person added. The guilt only further weighing him down,
“It’s rare, you know, for someone from her background to be so...genuine.” Yoongi’s chest tightened. He watched as you gracefully moved through the room, your laughter soft but infectious as you joked with the staff, thanking them for their hard work.
Maybe he could have brushed it off as you faking it but the thing was...You weren’t pretending. This was real.
He had been so quick to judge you, to believe the worst because it was easier than trying to understand. The facade you wore around him—cold, detached—wasn’t who you truly were. You had built walls around yourself, maybe because you had already sensed how much he disliked you from the start.
He hadn’t given you a chance.
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After the auction wrapped up, Yoongi lingered outside, leaning against his car as he waited for you. The night was cool, the city lights flickering around him, but his mind was far from the usual chaos of his business world. He was lost in thought, contemplating every interaction the two of you had shared since the wedding.
Finally around 2 in the morning, you emerged, bidding farewell to the remaining staff, your posture relaxed but clearly exhausted. He'd heard someone talking that you stayed behind to make sure they didn't need any extra hands and he...loved...that about you.
You didn’t see him at first, not until you were halfway to your cab, your heels in your hand ready to drop into your bed but when your eyes landed on him, your steps faltered.
"Yoongi?" you asked, surprise lacing your voice. You looked around nervously, did you have a plan and not realise?
“What are you doing here?” He straightened up, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his usual guarded expression still in place, but something in his eyes had softened.
“I got worried and I followed you.” You blinked, confusion crossing your face. Worried?
"Worried? You followed me?" He nodded, unsure how to explain the storm of emotions brewing inside him. He didn't even know where to start with anything he was thinking or feeling right now.
“You’ve been disappearing a lot,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders and then licking his lower lip.
“I wanted to know where you were going. I thought-”
"Thought I was cheating?" You were quick to cast a judgement on him like he had you and he didn't blame you for that. He sighed a little and you pressed your lips into a thin line, the warmth you’d shown all evening fading as your walls shot back up.
“I didn’t think you’d care about me disappearing,” you said, turning your gaze away, asking your cab to wait for you to finish talking, Yoongi felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. You had every reason to think that. He’d given you nothing but disdain since the day you met.
"I didn’t know," he said quietly, taking a step toward you. You stared at him, your eyes on him the whole time as if you were waiting for him to try something.
“I didn’t know you were doing all of this.” You glanced at him, confusion still etched on your face. If you were doing this or if you weren't shouldn't have mattered to him.
“What does it matter?” He hesitated, the weight of his assumptions pressing down on him.
"Miss?" Your cab driver asked through the window, checking to see if you were okay and you glanced at him,
"I'm fine Romano, I'll be right there." You smiled sweetly at him and he went back to waiting. Yoongi looked at you,
“I was wrong about you,” he admitted, his voice low. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.” You didn’t respond, your eyes searching his as if trying to figure out if his words were genuine. The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken feelings.
“I thought I knew who you were,” Yoongi continued, clearing his throat and sighing a little,
“but I didn’t. I’ve been... holding on to these stupid assumptions, believing the rumours, and I never gave you a chance.” You looked down at your feet, your fingers curling around the strap of your bag.
"You never asked," you said softly, the vulnerability in your voice catching him off guard. You hated that you sounded like this right now, but all you'd ever wanted out of this thing was someone to talk to...Someone to be the real you with.
Yoongi took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his guilt sink deeper.
"You're right. I didn’t ask. I just assumed. But tonight, seeing you like this..." He paused, searching for the right words. "You’re not who I thought you were.” You looked up at him, your expression still guarded but softer now.
“Who did you think I was?” You stared at him and watched as he exhaled slowly.
“Someone selfish. Someone shallow. I thought you were only interested in... whatever this marriage could bring you.” He shook his head, his voice tinged with regret. “But I was wrong. I see that now.”
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The city hummed around you, but in that moment, the world seemed quiet. Yoongi’s heart raced as he waited for you to say something—anything.
“I didn’t want this either,” you whispered, the weight of your own exhaustion clear in your tone.
“I didn’t want to be judged before I even had a chance...I thought maybe I'd be able to finally be myself around someone...not the prim and proper princess I'm forced to be.” Yoongi swallowed the lump in his throat. He had a lot to make up for, and he wasn’t sure how to do it. But standing here, watching the walls between you crack just a little, he knew he had to try.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice sincere. “For everything.” You looked at him, your gaze softening, and for the first time since you’d met, you allowed a small, genuine smile to grace your lips.
"I'll make it up to you?" he suggested and you bit your lip,
"Hmm,"
"Whatever it takes." He told you once he saw you were hesitating, he would do anything to make things right with you...To get the fresh start the two of you were going to need.
"A donation to the shelter." You said, folding your arms across your chest, you weren't only going to ask for that but you wanted to see how serious he was.
"Done."
"Come to charity events...actually donate to the thigns I'm doing. Not just for show." You'd asked your father for donations many times in the past but he would only pretend to donate.
"Done." He said with a smile, stepping closer to you, your chests pressing against each other as you looked at him,
"I want a dog."
"No." He mumbled, he wasn't a dog person.
"A cat?"
"Done." He smiled again,
"A ride home?" You whispered as he nodded at you,
"Done," he smiles turning back and opening the car door for you, gesturing for you to get inside.
"Thanks for waiting Romano," You went to get some money out but Yoongi shook his head, handing Romano triple what he would have gotten for taking you home and smiling at the man.
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Months had passed since Yoongi first realized he’d been wrong about you. The chilly distance that had once separated you both had melted away completely, replaced by quiet, genuine affection. You laughed more around him now, and in return, he had softened in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He found himself caring for you, watching you with admiration in ways that were foreign but undeniably real.
The two of you were always arm in arm at events, photogrpahed going to your different charities. Yoongi told you he wanted to make sure you got proper coverage for them and arranged for the two of you to be seen at events. The charities were getting more and more attention which you were as well but you hadn't minded too much.
Tonight, he had decided to come home early to surprise you, he'd been working late every single night all week and he'd finally had enough. He'd told his assistant to cancel all meetings and he was heading home for the night. It had been a long day, but the thought of seeing you, sharing a quiet dinner or even you forcing him to watch trashing shows filled him with delight.
As he entered the house, he noticed something was off. You weren't sitting on the sofa greeting him, it was silent...Back to the same silence that had filled the penthouse months ago when you first got married and his stomach sank. Moving further into the apartment he went to find you, maybe you'd crashed on the sofa asleep or in bed? But as he headed toward the living room he heard a gruff, harsh voice cut through the air. Yoongi paused, his heart sinking as he realized the voice belonged to your father.
He edged closer, keeping out of sight, and listened.
“Enough with your excuses,” your father spat, his voice low but filled with venom. You flinched back from him and tried to talk but the words refused to come out,
“You need to hurry up and produce an heir, do you understand? This marriage was supposed to save us, but all you’ve done is play the perfect little wife, and for what? We need results, not your shit charity work.” Yoongi’s stomach churned with unease as the conversation continued, your voice soft but trembling as you tried to respond.
“I’m trying,” you whispered, “but I can’t just—"
“Trying isn’t good enough!” your father barked, cutting you off. You loved Yoongi, you'd fallen in love with him and you weren't just going to force him to make you pregnant. The two of you were taking your time together.
“Do you think this is some game? We’re on the verge of losing everything. Your husband may have his own fortune, but that’s not going to save us. You need to step up!”
"I love-"
"Love is a foolish game!" He screams in your face, making you whimper at him and shake your head. You weren't going to play this anymore.
"Open your fucking legs for him, that's all he wants! Let him fuck a shitty baby into you and do your job!"
"My job is to be a good wife! To lead my charities-" There was a loud crack, the unmistakable sound of a slap, followed by a sharp intake of breath—yours. Yoongi’s blood ran cold, his hands clenching into fists as he stormed toward the room. He could hear you whimper softly, the sound of it making his heart twist with rage.
In an instant, Yoongi was at the door, throwing it open with a force that startled both you and your father. Your hand was clutching your face,
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi’s voice was ice cold, his eyes blazing with fury as he stepped between you and your father. Your father straightened, the vein in his neck popping with anger at the interruption coming in.
“This is a family matter,” he growled. “You have no right to interfere.” Yoongi ignored him, his attention focused entirely on you. He was by your side in seconds, moving your hand and scanning your face for any sign of it hurting and you wincing was enough confirmation for him. His jaw tightened, his heart pounding with the urge to protect you from any further harm.
“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked, his voice softening as he gently touched your arm. You nodded, though tears brimmed in your eyes, and Yoongi’s heart broke a little more.
“I’m fine, nothing I'm not used to,” you whispered, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you. Used to?! There was no way Yoongi was going to let this asshole anywhere near you ever agian, Yoongi turned back to your father, his expression hardening again.
“Get out,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not welcome here anymore.” Your father scoffed, stepping forward as if to challenge him, but Yoongi didn’t flinch. The cold authority in his gaze was enough to make anyone hesitate.
“This isn’t over,” your father spat, glaring between you and Yoongi. “You owe me—both of you.”
“No,” Yoongi said firmly, his hand tightening protectively around your arm. He wasn't going to let the piece of shit make you feel small,
“She doesn’t owe you anything.” Your father glared at him for a long moment before turning on his heel and storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. The echo of it reverberated through the halls, leaving behind a heavy silence.
Once he was gone, Yoongi turned to you, his eyes softening as he gently cupped your face, inspecting the damage. His thumb brushed over the spot where your father had hit you, careful not to press too hard.
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. You'd done everything yo could to hide this side of your life from him,
“I didn’t want you to see that.” Yoongi shook his head, his expression filled with concern. The thought of you hiding this from him breaking his heart into a million pieces.
“You don’t have to apologize. None of this is your fault.” Tears slipped down your cheeks as you leaned into his touch.
“He’s been pressuring me for months,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. You knew it was all going to come out anyway and you hated the idea of Yoongi getting caught up in the middle of it all.
“He’s trying to cover up his bankruptcy, and he thinks... he thinks if I have a child, it will fix everything.” Yoongi felt a surge of protectiveness raise in him, the thought of you being used as some pawn in your father’s schemes igniting his anger all over again.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said firmly, his hand slipping down to grip yours.
“I won’t let him treat you like that. Not anymore.” You looked up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable. You wanted to believe him but how were you supposed to get away when he was your dad?
“But... he’s my father. He’s desperate. I didn’t know what else to do.” Yoongi’s heart clenched at the sight of your pain. He could see how much this had been weighing on you, how you’d been carrying this burden alone. Guilt washed over him for not noticing sooner, for not realizing the extent of what you were dealing with.
“From now on, you don’t have to deal with this alone,” Yoongi promised, his voice low but steady. “I’ll keep you safe. No one—especially your father—will hurt you again.” You stared at him, a mix of relief and disbelief in your eyes.
“You’d do that for me?” Yoongi’s expression softened, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears.
“Of course. You��re my wife, I'd do anything for you,” he said simply before looking at you, biting his lip a little. “And I... I care about you.”
It was the first time he’d openly admitted it, and the weight of those words hung between you for a moment, settling in the space where uncertainty had once been.
You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest as you allowed yourself to finally breathe. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. And Yoongi, with his arms wrapped around you, knew that he would do whatever it took to protect you—from your father, from the world, from anything that tried to hurt you.
In that moment, it wasn’t just a promise he made out of obligation. It was a promise he made because he had fallen for you—deeply and irrevocably.
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Later that night, the two of you sat on the couch in the living room, the television softly flickering in front of you. The events of the day still weighed on both of your minds, but the comfort of Yoongi’s presence soothed the tension that had lingered. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped protectively around you. It felt natural now, the closeness, as if this was always where you were meant to be—with him.
The TV played in the background, but neither of you were really paying attention. Your thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation with your father, the harsh words, and Yoongi’s unwavering defense of you. It had changed something between you two, bringing you even closer than before.
After a while, Yoongi shifted, turning his gaze from the screen to look down at you. His voice, low and soft, broke the comfortable silence.
“Can I ask you something?” You nodded, sensing the seriousness in his tone.
“Always." He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. He didn't know how this conversation was going to go,
“Earlier, when your father was... pressuring you about having a child,” he began, his eyes searching yours. “Is that something you actually want? I mean... a baby—not just for him or an heir, but for us?” The question hung in the air, and you felt your heart skip a beat. It was a vulnerable thing to ask, especially after everything that had happened, but you could see the sincerity in his eyes. Yoongi wasn’t asking because of some external obligation; he was asking because he genuinely wanted to know how you felt.
You bit your lip, glancing away for a moment as you gathered your thoughts. Having a baby was something you'd always wanted, you wanted to raise your child to feel the love you'd wished you'd felt growing up.
“I’ve always wanted a family,” you admitted quietly. “But I didn’t want it to be because of... what my father wants. I want it to be because we want it. Because we’re ready.” Yoongi’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, turning your face back to his.
“Do you want that with me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, laced with vulnerability. Your heart fluttered at his question, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear him ask. It wasn’t just about an heir or fulfilling some family expectation. It was about the two of you—about building something real together.
“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his. “I do. I want that with you, Yoongi.” His expression shifted, a mixture of relief and lust. His thumb brushed across your cheek as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin.
“I want that too,” he murmured, his voice deep and intimate.
The air between you grew heavier, charged with the intensity of the moment. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. It started as a soft and gentle but quickly turned into something more urgent, more passionate. Yoongi responded instantly, pulling you closer, his hands slipping around your waist as his lips moved against yours with a newfound hunger.
You let out a soft gasp as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he drew you into his lap. The warmth of his body against yours, the way his hands roamed over your back—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. Everything about him, the way he kissed you, the way he held you, spoke of desire, of a need that had been building between you for months.
Your hands moved to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips as he trailed kisses down the side of your neck, softly whimpers left your lips.
“Yoongi,” you whispered breathlessly, your head tilting back to give him more access. He groaned softly in response, his lips trailing back up to claim yours once again, he loved that you were so responsive to him.
"We can practice baby making," He whispers before continuing the kiss but it was deeper now, more insistent, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His hands roamed your body, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.
Yoongi pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath heavy and ragged as he rested his forehead against yours.
“I want everything with you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “A family. A future. Everything.” Your heart swelled at his words, and without hesitation, you captured his lips again, pouring every bit of your emotion into the kiss. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you to him as the intensity between you grew. You had never felt this way before—so completely consumed by someone else.
"T-Take me to our room?" You whispered as he looked at you, scanning your face to make sure you were sure about this.
"You've been through a lot tonight-"
"Yoongi, please." You begged, leaning down and kissing his soft skin, biting and sucking on his neck as he groaned, grinding you down against him as he nods at you.
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It wasn't long until the two of you were naked and he had you laying beneath him on the bed, his eyes drinking in every inch of your skin as he felt his cock growing harder at the sight.
"You're so beautiful," He moans, sliding his fingers inside of you gently while rubbing your clit until you were gasping against him. Yoongi smirked, nibbling your earlobe and kissing down yout throat,
"Spread those legs for me, princess." he said. You whimper a little, spreading your legs and watching as your husbamd dropped to his knees between your legs. He lowered his head and began to tease you, kissing along the inside of your thigh and licking your folds before finally touching his tongue to your clit. You moaned loudly, your back arching from the bed as you whimpered at him.
"Y-yoongi," You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to eat you out. Your whole body on fire as you whimpered, grinding against his face as he smirked. He continued to push his fingers into you, curling them against that one spot that made your mind blank,
"R-Right there!" You cry out, whimpering as you chased your orgasm. It didn't take long as you called out his name as you came.
Soon he started kissing up your body, your hand moved between you as you took his cock into your hand, pumping slowly as you watched his face. His eyes rolled back and he moaned softly,
"Princess,"
"I wanna make you feel good," You pouted at him but he shook his head at you, there was no way he would last and he wanted to fuck you. Tonight.
"Later...I wanna be inside you when I cum for you the first time," He moaned not caring how needy he sounded. You nod and spread your legs once more as he pushed the head of his cock into you, your head rolling back as he pushed all the way into you,
"So fucking wet," He moaned out, sliding in and out of you as your hands clucthed onto the sheets around you. He fucked into you slowly and sweetly, your lips finding each others as you kissed him deeply.
"Y-Yoongi," You moan out as he thrusts a little harder this time,
"I'm so deep inside of you," He moaned out, his voice like sandpaper. Ripples of pleasure wavered through your boody as you whimpered,
"Feels so fucking good," you cry out, your nails digging into his skin as he continued to fuck into you. He shifted a little, his cock hitting that spot that made you scream and you whimper,
"Y-Yoongi-"
"Me too," He moaned out as he continued to fuck into you. Your heart raced and your back arched off the beg, your fingers digging into his arms as your heels dug into his ass, sinking him deeper into you. You scream out as your orgasm hits you, clenching around him tightly as you whimpered,
"S-Shit! S-Shit!" He grunted as he bucked into you, cumming into you and holding you close to him. Your foreheads rested together as you caught your breath, gigging softly at him,
"I love you." You whispered to him, stroking some of the hair out of his face,
"I love you too princess."
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You smiled softly, feeling the flutter of movement beneath your hand. The little kicks were a constant reminder of the new life growing inside you, not that you could ever forget with the constant needing to pee all of the time.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and you turned just as Yoongi entered the room. His eyes immediately softened when they landed on you, and he crossed the room to stand by your side, his arms wrapping around you from behind. His hand joined yours on your belly, fingers brushing over the spot where the baby had kicked moments before.
"Hey," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "How are my two favorite people doing?" You leaned back into his embrace, sighing contentedly.
"We're doing good. He’s been pretty active today." Yoongi smiled, his hand gently rubbing small circles over your stomach, kissing it softly before looking back at you.
"Already giving you a hard time, huh? Just like his mom." You laughed softly, turning your head to meet his gaze.
“Or like his dad,” you teased, earning a playful smirk from Yoongi.
For a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the closeness. Yoongi’s hand never left your belly, as if he was already in tune with the life growing inside you. His protectiveness, his love—it had only grown stronger with time.
“Can you believe it?” you whispered, your voice filled with awe. “In just a few months, we’re going to be parents.” Yoongi’s smile softened, his eyes brimming with excitement, he'd been over the moon when you told him you were expecting but he had baby proofed every single inch of the penthouse.
“I’ve been thinking about it every day,” he admitted, his voice low and full of affection. “It still feels a little surreal.” You turned in his arms, facing him fully.
“Are you ready for it?” His gaze met yours and he smiled at you.
“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he said sincerely. “Especially with you by my side.” Tears pricked at your eyes, overwhelmed by how far you had both come. There was a time when you hadn’t been sure if things would ever feel this right. But now, standing here with Yoongi, your husband and soon-to-be father of your child, everything felt complete.
“I still think about my father sometimes,” you admitted softly, breaking the gentle silence. Since your fathers outburst Yoongi had made it clear he wasn't to be involved with anything the two of you were doing and he'd...back off. Something that had creeped you out and you'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop but he never showed up again.
“About how different things are without him in my life. It feels strange… but also freeing.” Yoongi’s expression darkened slightly, his jaw tightening at the mention of your father. He had tabs on him at all times to make sure he wasn't going to do anything to you again,
“He lost the right to be part of your life the moment he put his hands on you. I won’t let him come anywhere near you or our family.” You nodded, comforted by his unwavering protectiveness.
“I know. And I’m glad he’s not part of this. I don’t want our baby growing up under that kind of pressure.” Yoongi’s hand slipped from your waist to cradle your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek.
"Our child is going to grow up surrounded by love, not expectations or obligations,” he said firmly. “That’s all that matters now.” Your heart swelled with gratitude, tears welling in your eyes.
“Thank you, Yoongi,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”
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dreamauri · 2 days ago
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♪ — 𝗠𝗬 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗨𝗦 max vertsappen  x  dutch! fem! driver! reader ( angst ) fic summary . . . when admiration and worship morphs into an obsession that borders on rivalry and hate, even as it remains tangled with traces of reluctant respect. From studying his every move as a young fan, Yn transforms into his fiercest competitor, driven by the need not just to beat her childhood idol, Max Verstappen, but to utterly dethrone him. (5.7K words)
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You pull off your helmet with a fury that blurs your vision, the weight of the day’s mistakes turning everything to red. You’d been so close—so damn close to taking the lead from him, only for Max to pull that brake test, sending both of you into the barriers. Without a second thought, you dropkick your helmet across the gravel, your scream piercing the air.
He’s already out of his car, stalking toward you with that smug, barely-contained anger in his eyes. The type of anger that’s wrapped up in confidence and control, the kind that shows he doesn’t care, not really.
“Are you out of your mind?” he barks, his voice clipped, only the faintest bit breathless. “What the hell was that?”
“You! You were what the hell that was!” you shout back, stepping forward until a marshal wedges between you, holding you both back with outstretched arms. “You pulled that damn stunt! You think you’re untouchable, Verstappen, but you’re not!” Your words echo across the track, catching the attention of everyone nearby.
Max’s lips curl into a mocking smirk. “Untouchable? Coming from the one who can’t seem to finish a race without nearly taking someone out?” His laugh is bitter, biting, and it grates on every nerve you have left.
“When did you turn into such a coward?” you hiss, every word as sharp as the tension in the air. “Or did the idea of losing to me start to get under your skin?”
Max’s face twitches, just for a second, but he covers it up with a shrug, like your words meant nothing. “Get real, Yn. You’re reckless. This sport has no place for someone like you if you’re going to risk both our necks out there.”
But as the marshals pull you apart, each of you going in opposite directions, the heat simmering in your chest turns from anger to something almost painful, a question that’s been lying dormant for too long: When did I start hating him so much?
In the quietness of the shower back in your drivers room, the memories come rushing back.
There was a time when you couldn’t even imagine hating Max. A time that you looked up to Max. You can see it now, your younger self glued to the screen, watching every race, every move he made on the track. Back then, he was a hero, a force you admired, your inspiration as you fought your way through karting, Formula 4, Formula 3.
It was one of those post-race interviews, back in the early days, when a reporter called you “Mini Max.” They’d smiled at you, waiting for your reaction, and you’d laughed, your cheeks flushed as you spoke about how much you looked up to him. It felt like an honor, a small victory, to be compared to him.
But somewhere along the way, admiration soured into frustration. Somewhere along the way, you started to hate him—hate that he seemed so invincible, that he could still overshadow you, that no matter what you did, he was always a step ahead.
Now, the thought of finishing behind him feels like a betrayal to the younger version of you, the girl who once dreamed of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her hero. No, now it’s no longer enough to be near him. You need to beat him. You need him to feel what it’s like to lose.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
While he was enjoying the off-season, probably relaxing on some distant beach enjoying his winder break, you were here—training, pushing yourself past every limit until your muscles ached, until you couldn’t remember anything but the fire burning inside you. You wanted to be better. You had to be.
You’d already stolen one of his records: youngest F1 driver. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted his wins, his titles, his legacy. Every drop of sweat, every missed social event, every sleepless night—all of it was for one thing: to dethrone Max Verstappen.
“You’re pushing too hard,” your performance coach warned one day, watching you with concern as you struggled to complete yet another lap on the simulator, your hands trembling with exhaustion.
“I’m not stopping until I’m faster than him,” you gritted out, voice strained, but you didn’t let up. You couldn’t. Because every time you closed your eyes, you saw him there, his smirk, his arrogant confidence, and it made you push harder, faster, ignoring every ache and pain.
Pre-season testing felt like a curse. The moment you hit the track, frustration settled in like an unwanted passenger, sitting heavy in your chest as you struggled with the car’s every turn. You needed something perfect, something that could carry you past him, but instead, the car felt like it was working against you, resisting every command.
“Is this really the best we can do?” you snapped at your engineer after another failed lap. Your tone was sharp, the bite in your voice making him flinch.
“It’s early, Yn,” he replied cautiously, not quite meeting your eyes. “We still have time to make adjustments.”
Time? You wanted to laugh, but it felt too bitter. There was no time—not when you could feel Max somewhere on the track, clocking in faster times in his rocketship, his team perfecting every detail while you were stuck here, in a car that felt like it was holding you back.
“It needs to be better,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper, but every ounce of frustration bled through. “I need it to be better if I’m going to beat him.”
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
As the season began, you avoided Max like he was some kind of curse, the plague even. Every time you saw him across the paddock, your jaw clenched, and you turned away. Every glance he threw your way felt like a challenge, and every interview brought questions you hated answering, questions about him, about your rivalry, about your chances against him.
The roar of the crowd was still pounding in your ears as you climbed out of the car, adrenaline coursing through you as every nerve thrummed with frustration. The race had been brutal—more than it should have been. You’d fought for every inch, every corner, only to have Max come up behind you on that last lap, reckless as always, clipping the side of your car and puncturing a hole right near the rear wing.
You tore off your gloves, tossing them to the side before stepping closer to examine the damage. The deep gouge was blatant against the pristine paint, a mark of just how close he’d come to forcing you out completely. Your fingers traced the edges of the hole, the anger simmering hotter with each second as you replayed the moment he veered in your direction, testing you in a move so blatant you couldn’t ignore it if you tried.
A nearby camera crew caught the scene, the lens aimed in your direction as you ripped off your helmet, pushing damp strands of hair from your face. You barely registered the red light on the camera, too consumed by the frustration boiling over.
“He really had to pull that move, didn’t he?” you muttered, voice dripping with bitterness as you wiped sweat from your brow. “Typical Max. God, he’s such a… such a bitch.”
The words came out low, rough, but it was enough for the camera to catch them, the red light blinking like it was in on the joke, laughing with you, or at you, whichever it was. You let out a huff, half-expecting him, Max,  to have heard it somehow, already imagining his response—a smirk, a raised brow, maybe some cocky comment about how close he’d gotten to overtaking.
As you ran a hand over your face, trying to shake off the rage, you felt someone approaching from behind. You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. Max’s presence was unmistakable, like a storm looming over you, too close, too intense.
“What?” you snapped, finally spinning around to face him. He was already out of his helmet, his blue eyes fixed on you with that unreadable look that made your blood boil all over again.
“What? No ‘thank you’ for keeping it interesting?” he replied, his tone light but his gaze sharper, more calculating.
“Oh, sure,” you retorted, a bitter laugh slipping out. “Thank you for trying to send me into the wall with that last move. Real sportsmanship, Max.”
He tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind getting a little aggressive when it suits you. Didn’t think you’d be this sensitive about it.”
“Sensitive?” You stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “That was reckless, even for you. I’m not surprised you’d think putting both of us at risk is somehow a good idea.”
Max’s smirk faded, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “If you can’t handle the pressure, maybe—”
“Don’t,” you cut him off, words coming out like steel. “Don’t you dare imply that I can’t handle it. I was still ahead of you, even with that stunt. Maybe you should stop hiding behind dirty tactics and see how long you can actually stay in front without them.”
The air was thick with tension, and you barely noticed the media crew and team members pretending to busy themselves nearby, clearly trying to avoid interrupting whatever this was turning into.
Max let out a slow breath, his expression softening just enough that it threw you off for a second. “Believe what you want, Yn. Just remember who crossed the line first.”
His words were like a taunt, but they left a hollow ache in their wake as he turned, walking away without another glance back. You clenched your fists, feeling the heat of the camera still on you, catching everything.
Fine. Let them see, let them know you weren’t about to let him get away with this. If Max Verstappen wanted a rivalry, then that’s exactly what he was going to get.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The roar of the engines echoed around the track, every corner a battle between you and Max. Your car was an extension of you, a machine honed and perfected for moments like this, pushing you to the very edge as you fought for P1 in the sprint race. Max was right there—just inches away, as relentless as ever. Every overtake, every daring cut into the corner, was met with resistance from him, as if he refused to let you have even an inch of track.
“He’s defending like mad,” one of the commentators said, awe in his voice. “You have to wonder if they’re aware of how much this fight feels like Caesar and Brutus. Max as Caesar, of course, with Yn gunning for him like Brutus.”
Your focus sharpened even further, the comparison strangely invigorating, pushing you to take every move with more aggression. If they wanted a Brutus, they’d get one.
When the race ended, you crossed the line right behind Max, fuming and breathless but satisfied with the chase. It was in the media pen afterward, your mind still replaying every maneuver, that an interviewer brought up the commentary.
“Did you catch what they were calling you out there?” the interviewer asked with a sly grin, clearly relishing in the drama.
You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “No, what?”
“They called you ‘Brutus.’”
You blinked in surprise, a mix of confusion and amusement flitting across your face before you brushed it off with a shrug. “It’s fitting, isn’t it? Brutus was victorious in the end.” You tried offering, looking at the bright side and giving a small smile, letting the interviewer chuckle as you shrugged off the implication. You knew there was a bite to your words, an edge that hinted at more than a friendly rivalry.
Meanwhile, in Max’s own interview, when they informed him of the new nickname, he barely batted an eye. “Yeah?” he said, cocking an eyebrow. Then he gave a small, careless nod. “It’s fitting, ’cause she’s a brute.” There was a half-smirk on his face, and the way he said it was practically a challenge. You could practically hear his voice, even though you were nowhere near him.
The next day, you stepped onto the track with a new kind of energy, a thrill of anticipation in your veins. As you took your position on the grid, a chant from the crowd filtered into your helmet. You could hear it even over the sound of engines revving, the murmur and shout of the crowd growing stronger: “Brutus! Brutus! Brutus!”
The name had taken hold, and there was something about it that set your blood on fire. You embraced it, straightening in your seat as though you were some kind of warrior, sent with purpose to take down Max. It felt like you weren’t just racing for yourself anymore; you were embodying something larger, a symbol of the one who dared to challenge the reigning power.
You glanced to the side where Max’s car sat in P1, his familiar helmet tilted as he prepped, no doubt hearing the same chant. If he looked your way, you didn’t see it, too wrapped up in the energy that was now backing you. You were Brutus, and you were ready to show everyone, including Max, just how fierce you could be.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Each race felt like peeling back another layer, another page in a book you couldn’t stop reading, even as it tore at you. Max had become everything that drove you—every late-night practice, every reckless risk taken, every corner claimed just an inch sharper. You’d built your entire career studying him, dissecting his strengths, cataloging his weaknesses, carving out a strategy with every heartbeat set to match his.
But that irony twisted in your gut like a knife. It was almost poetic, really: you’d spent years learning him, watching him, emulating him until you’d become something terrifyingly similar. It was as if you’d built yourself in his image, shaped your own ambition around his fire, around the relentless hunger he brought to every race. But the thought was bitter, cold. Every time someone compared you, every time they pointed out how alike you were, it felt like a betrayal.
A betrayal to the younger you, to the version of yourself who’d watched him with awe, who’d traced his lines on paper with stars doodled around his name. The one who had once seen him as a symbol of everything good and pure about racing.
Now, he was nothing more than a hurdle you couldn’t ignore, one you refused to let stand in your way.
But no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you resented him for being the goal you chased, you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t. Not until every accolade, every win, every record was ripped from his hands. Not until you stood there, victorious, knowing it was your name on everyone’s lips. Even if it meant becoming the very thing you hated.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The music pulsed, pounding through your chest as you leaned over the bar, nursing your drink with an intensity that bordered on dangerous. Tonight had been supposed to be an escape—a distraction from the simmering frustration that came with finishing just behind Max. Again. You could still feel the clench of your hands around the wheel, the image of him just a few seconds ahead as you crossed the finish line etched behind your eyelids. You wanted to forget it all. Lose yourself to the numbing, pounding bass and the warm haze of alcohol.
But that small sense of victory shattered the moment you caught sight of him across the club. Max. His eyes were on you, his presence impossible to ignore as he stood near the VIP section, laughing with friends, drink in hand. You groaned, tipping your drink back in a quick gulp. Of all the places...
You tried to ignore him, focusing on the dance floor, the bodies swaying around you, anything but the fact that he was watching your every move. But the alcohol mixed with the adrenaline still buzzing from the race, and that tiny, vengeful part of you wanted to prove something—to remind yourself you didn’t need to dwell on Max Verstappen.
But then you felt it: a warm, familiar touch wrapping around your waist. An arm pulling you back gently, firmly, into a chest that you knew too well.
"You know," he murmured, voice low, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re just like me."
The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated the way your heart reacted, a mix of anger and something else you didn’t want to name. You tried to wriggle free, stumbling slightly as the room spun around you. “Get off, Max. Go celebrate somewhere else.”
But he didn’t let go, his grip steady, holding you against him. “Come on, Yn,” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "Let me take care of you. I'll take care of you."
His words wrapped around you like a taunt, like an invitation. You wanted to resist, to pull away and leave him there, but your head was foggy, your limbs heavy from the drinks, from the heat of his breath. You could barely manage a scowl as he pulled you closer, his hand steady against your waist.
“I don’t need your help,” you muttered, your words slurred but defiant.
“I know,” he murmured, his voice a warm murmur in your ear. “But I’m still here.”
Your mind swirled, the beat of the music fading to a low hum as you let yourself sink into his warmth, barely remembering how you’d stumbled out of the club, your legs unsteady as he led you down the hall to his suite.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The next morning, you woke with a start, your head pounding as the light filtered through the hotel curtains. You groaned, burying your head in the pillow. You weren’t home—this wasn’t your bed. Slowly, memories of last night seeped in, fractured and surreal. The club. The warmth of Max’s arm around your waist. The soft rasp of his voice in your ear.
And then it hit you. The sex, the moaning, the positions, the kissing, biting, fighting, fucking. All of it.
You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to feel a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you back into the bed. “Leaving already?” Max’s voice was thick with sleep, his blue eyes meeting yours with a soft, unreadable look.
You tried to pull away, the instinct to run screaming through your hazy mind, but he caught your chin gently, tilting your face toward him. “Stay,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours, soft and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.
Your mind raced, half of you screaming to push him away, but the warmth of his mouth, the way his hand cupped your face—it was both maddening and disarming. Just for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, your guard down, all your reasons to hate him slipping through your fingers like sand.
The aftermath of the kiss felt like whiplash. Your initial hesitation morphed into pure, seething anger, and you shoved Max’s arm off, pulling yourself away. The alcohol may have clouded your thoughts last night, but clarity came barreling through now, sharp and laced with regret. You needed to get out—fast.
Throwing off the covers, you stormed to the other side of the room, grabbing your clothes off the floor with an urgency that matched your pounding heartbeat. As you shoved your legs into your jeans, Max stirred behind you, still sprawled half-asleep, reaching out as if to pull you back down beside him.
“Yn,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Why the rush? It’s not like you’ve got anywhere better—”
“Don’t,” you snapped, jamming your arms into your jacket. Your voice was clipped, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the zipper. “Just… don’t. I don’t know what I was thinking last night. This—” you motioned between you two, fingers trembling with irritation “—this was a mistake.”
Max sat up, that grin fading as he registered your expression. “Wait—hey, just hold on,” he muttered, pushing the blankets off and scrambling to find his boxers. You didn’t wait, storming toward the door, but his voice pulled you up short.
“So you’re really just going to walk out? Pretend this didn’t happen?” He was struggling into his pants, one leg half in as he hobbled after you.
You turned to him, words cutting through the morning air like a knife. “Yes, Max. I’m walking out because that’s exactly what this was—a mistake I’m leaving behind. We’re nothing alike, no matter what you want to think.”
He swayed, one hand against the wall as he finally managed to get his pants on, his eyes narrowing. “Are you sure that’s what this is? Or are you just scared to admit that you don’t hate me as much as you say you do?”
You paused, heart catching in your throat, looking at him for what felt like a minute before laughing bitterly, hoping your pause wasn’t too long for him to notice. Your heart ached. “You’re delusional. The only reason I was here was because I was too drunk to know better.”
Max took a step closer, eyes glinting with a challenge. “Then why don’t you tell me to stay away? Tell me to stop following you. I will, right now, if that’s what you really want.”
You faltered, your gaze flicking to the door, the pull between you both undeniable and frustrating. You could feel his stare digging into you, asking you to turn back, to stop pretending that he didn’t know you better than you wanted him to.
But instead, you gripped the doorknob and turned it, your knuckles going white. You didn’t say anything. Why didn’t you?
And before you let him say anything, you stepped through, slamming the door behind you.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
You were sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the screen as another race played out before you. It wasn’t your own; it was one of Max’s races from a few seasons back. Your thumb hovered over the rewind button, your attention focused solely on catching every turn, every move he made. You leaned forward, squinting as you watched his lines, his techniques—any crack in his armor that might finally give you the edge you needed.
Behind you, your mother and father’s voices clashed in the kitchen.
“If you’d bothered to pick up the dry cleaning like I asked—” “Oh, don’t start. Just because you’re married again doesn’t mean you get to dictate my life, Liza.”
You tuned them out. Their back-and-forth was almost as predictable as Max’s lines around a slow corner; it was white noise now, nothing that could break your concentration.
Just as you spotted something—maybe a half-second hesitation in his approach to the apex—your father walked into the room, arms crossed, a smirk on his face as he eyed you and then the screen. He leaned against the doorframe, clearly amused.
“Still glued to that Verstappen kid, huh?” he teased, shaking his head. “I swear, it’s borderline obsession at this point.” He held something up, something that made your heart skip a beat—a familiar little notebook, worn and creased, with your childish doodles on the cover.
You looked at it, your chest tightening. The old notebook you’d kept as a kid, filled with every scrap of information about Max you could find—techniques, race strategies, his overtakes, his lines…everything.
He walked over, dropping the notebook onto your lap with a chuckle. “Remember this? You used to practically idolize him. Stars, doodles, the works,” he said, a slight hint of nostalgia in his tone. “You’d scribble notes while watching his races, your little hero.”
You swallowed, flipping open the notebook slowly. There it was: your handwriting, a little messy but full of enthusiasm, each page packed with observations about Max’s races. “Quick on the throttle here,” “Stellar defense move,” “Perfect line through Turn 4.” Some sections even had little stars around his name, doodles you’d drawn in the margins. Little hearts you hadn’t even noticed you’d drawn. Back then, he’d been like a god to you, the driver you’d wanted to be like, even surpass one day. The admiration on those pages was almost embarrassing now, a reminder of how innocent and naive you’d once been.
“Maybe I used to admire him,” you muttered, closing the notebook with a slight flush. You looked back at the screen, at the Max on the track, now an opponent, someone you wanted nothing more than to beat. “But that was before I knew what he was really like.”
Your dad laughed, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Sure, sure, whatever you say. Just keep your obsession in check, alright? Wouldn’t want Max to get a restraining order.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t shake the feeling of those old memories lingering. The stars, the admiration—they were still in the notebook, a record of a time when you’d looked up to Max, and in a way, it reminded you of why you’d wanted to race in the first place. But now, you had something more to prove, and none of those doodles and stars could make you forget that.
The notebook lay open in your lap, one page showing a neatly drawn corner with “Max’s line” scribbled beside it. You had been meticulous, even back then, mapping his every turn, his every strategy like they were holy instructions, some sacred blueprint of how to be the best.
“Honestly, Liza, I’m not the one who left the thermostat set to Arctic!” Your dad’s voice cut through the hum.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to run every single thing by you,” your mom snapped back. The sharp clink of a pan hitting the stovetop made you wince, your focus wobbling before you found it again.
You sat down heavily in your sim rig, the notebook clutched in your lap. Flipping through its pages, you skimmed over the small stars and scribbled praises, memories spilling out like ghosts as you stared down at all those words you’d once used to describe Max: quick, flawless, untouchable. A tiny part of you wanted to laugh at yourself; the other part ached, the way you did when you realized something beautiful had soured beyond repair.
You loaded up the AI program, Max’s settings set to the hardest mode. The muffled argument from the kitchen filtered through the walls. Your parents were at it again—voices low but tense, each word prickling at the air, growing louder with each moment.
“And what about last weekend? Who took Kendra to her recital while you were out playing golf with your buddies?” your mom accused, her tone biting.
“Oh, please, because I didn’t already spend hours making sure her car was fixed?”
You shifted your focus to the screen, finally blocking them out as you took off into the first lap. The AI Max was fast—just as aggressive as he was in real life, lunging to take the inside line at every turn, leaving barely an inch between his virtual tires and yours. You held on, matching his speed with ease, remembering every note, every trick you’d taught yourself just to keep up with him. Lap one down. You’d beat him.
“Oh, come on, Frank! If I had a dollar for every time you pulled that excuse,” your mom continued, voice muffled but unmistakable.
“Then go ahead, keep tallying, Liza. I’ve got a list a mile long if we’re counting grudges!” he fired back.
You reset the sim, sending the AI Max to challenge you again. The screen flashed, and you were off, Max’s virtual car zipping ahead as you pushed your own car to keep pace. The tension built lap by lap, each turn taking you closer to a victory over him—even if it was only a pixelated version. A feeling of triumph stirred in your chest as you overtook the AI at the final corner, winning another lap, then another.
Another loud clang from the kitchen pierced the air, followed by your mom’s frustrated,
 “Can we at least agree to stop shouting for once, Liz?”
“Sure, sure, until you find another reason to bite my head off,” 
But by now, it didn’t matter how loud they got; you couldn’t shake the realization sinking in as you felt the weight of the notebook in your lap. You’d beaten him here, again and again. 
Your gaze had dropped back to the pages in your lap, flipping through more of those pages, each one carrying fragments of that old adoration. Back when he was more than an opponent, back when he was someone you idolized, maybe even more than that. You felt your eyes burn as a tear slipped free, catching on your cheek.
You clenched the notebook tightly, fighting to shove down the wave of anger and resentment. When had it shifted? When had this fierce obsession turned into something ugly, something that kept you up at night, wanting nothing more than to knock him off that pedestal and destroy him?
The ache twisted deeper as you whispered, almost to yourself, 
“Why did you have to ruin it, Max?”
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The Abu Dhabi sunset cast an intense glare over the grid, heat rising from the track in waves as the entire circuit buzzed with anticipation. This was it—the final race, the decider. The season had been a brutal, relentless tug of war, and every inch you’d gained had been hard-won, paid for with countless hours and sacrificed peace. Yet all that melted into a charged, quiet tension as you stood on the grid, looking straight into the piercing gaze of Max Verstappen.
He looked calm. Unshaken. A flicker of something unnameable crossed his face as he watched you, that damn smirk just barely tugging at his mouth. It was the same cocky expression that haunted your memories, the one that lit the spark of anger you’d fanned all year. You looked back, hard, steady—fighting the urge to let your lips twist into something bitter. All you wanted, all you needed, was to cross that line first. To watch him falter, just once. You could almost feel the weight of the wish pressing into your chest, every quiet, secret prayer you’d ever made for him to fail. You wanted it so badly that it felt wrong—like holding fire too close to your heart.
Just let him crash, you thought. Just once. You closed your eyes briefly, wishing with all the intensity you’d buried over the years. It was twisted, immoral maybe, but you was past caring. This was yours to win.
The lights went out, and with a roar of engines, you launched forward, you world shrinking to the roar of your own car and the blur of track under your tires. Corner after corner, you battled, inches apart, daring each other to break first. Max was relentless, always in your mirrors, always pushing you to your limits. They danced around each other with a precision that spoke of rivalry, yes, but something more, too—years of watching each other, of studying each other’s moves like rival chess masters waiting for the inevitable mistake.
But it was Max who finally cracked.
A few laps from the end, as you watched him from your mirrors, you saw it happen in real time. He’d miscalculated, his car swinging out too wide, the split-second error sending him straight into the barrier. The force of it made you gasp, the sound of his car hitting the wall ripping through your chest, catching you off guard. Your hand tightened on the wheel, breath coming fast as the seconds dragged on.
“Is he . . . is he okay?” you asked, your voice shaky as you came through the radio. “Max? Is he okay?”
There was a pause, and then your engineer’s voice cut in, calm and steady. “He’s fine, Yn. Focus. Just bring it home.”
Those words, simple as they were, snapped you back into the race. The track blurred around you as you pushed, pushing yourself as hard as your car would allow. When you crossed the finish line, your screams rang out over the radio, your  engineer’s laughter joining you as the reality of it finally sunk in.
“Yn, you did it! You’re the champion!” he shouted, laughter bubbling over the line. “You are the world champion!”
“World champion!” You screamed, slamming your hands on the steering wheel in pure and overflowing euphoria. “Oh my God! We did it!”
You let out another whoop, a wild, unrestrained sound you didn’t recognize. Pulling into parc fermé, you climbed out, eyes bright as you leapt onto you car, your fists thrown in the air as cheers erupted around you. It felt surreal, everything you’d been fighting for finally, finally in your hands. Your team rushed toward you, their faces alight with joy as they lifted you up, your arms outstretched as you soaked in the moment, your heart swelling.
But as you turned to face the crowd, the energy draining just enough for clarity to creep in, your gaze locked on him. Max stood just outside the circle of people, his helmet still in hand, his expression unreadable. You almost froze, the swell of triumph slipping, replaced by something else. You forced yourself to look away, turning back to you team and pulling them in closer, their arms slung around your shoulders as they lifted you onto their shoulders, chanting your name. Their support grounded you, lifting you from the gnawing doubt you hadn’t expected.
As they set you down, your heart hammered, still buzzing from the race. But in that instant, you felt it—a pang of something like regret as you looked at him again, standing alone, just watching you.
Max took a small step forward, a soft, almost hopeful look in his eyes. “Congratulations,— Yn! Congrats—” he called out, his voice barely rising above the roar of the celebration around them.
But you didn’t move toward him. Your team pulled you back into their cheers, and you let yourself be swept up, allowing the thrill of victory to drown out everything else. As your team lifted you onto their shoulders. And as the cameras flashed, the crowd cheered, and your name echoed around the circuit, you held onto the knowledge that you’d won, even if a small, nagging voice reminded you that you’d left something behind in the process.
the Dutch national anthem now plays for you.
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this is the longest one shot I've written so far, someone hold me
217 notes · View notes
fallstaticexit · 1 day ago
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Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort
TW: Bruises/Hickies
AN: With Halloween coming up, I won't have much time to work on any updates, that said, we shall return next week for more gays, drama and angst. I fear we've only just begun
Transcript under the cut
Nancy: Shouldn’t I- you, know, return the favor? You didn’t-
Lily: Trust me, I did. Twice. Besides, I have a mess to clean up at the office after that stunt you pulled. This sets us back for the goddamn quarter-
Nancy: Wait! No one can know about this!
Lily: [scoffs] Oh relax. What, you thought you’re the first closeted, married woman I screwed? I know how these things go.
Nancy: I don’t care about that! How do I know you won’t tell anyone? How do I know you won’t run off and tell the media and try and ruin me?
Lily: Because I like fucking you more than I hate you.
Nancy: I- liked it too.
Lily: Well, if you ever want to play again, you have my contacts. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the next competition, and trust me, I won’t hold back.
-
Nancy Narrates: [Once the fog finally cleared from my head, I was left with the crushing weight of what I’d just done..]
Nancy: [softly] Oh, my baby..
Geoffrey: Hey Superstar! I thought I heard you come in. I’d just put Malcolm to bed. The boys wanted to wait up til you got home but looks like Johnny was the last man standing. [chuckles] They’re so excited for our anniversary trip and your big promotion, I’m surprised they fell asleep.
Geoffrey: So, did your employees throw you a party at the office to celebrate? Nance? Whoa, hey, what’s the matter?
-
Jonathan: Give me back my hat, Malcolm!
Malcolm: NO! Finders keeper!
Jonathan: I’ll tell mom!!
Malcolm: [mimics] I’ll tell mommm!
Geoffrey: Take it easy, you two! You’ll poke an eye out! Hey, Nance! Ready to hit the city? The boys are getting antsy!
Jonathan: Bring your swimsuit, Mom! We’re going to the beach too!
Malcolm: [mimics] Yeahhh, we’re going to the beaaach!
Jonathan: Quit it!
Geoffrey: Alright, alright. How about we wait outside until Mommy’s ready?
-
Geoffrey: Happy Anniversary.
243 notes · View notes
leclarifies · 2 days ago
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matchmaker (MV33)
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✰ max verstappen x alexandra's sister! reader ✰
summary: you're alexandra's sister and charles just so happens to be tired of hearing you complain to be single all the time. good thing for you, charles is sneaky and has a plan up his sleeve.
genre: smau & fluff <3
a/n: hello everyone, taking a small break from writing off the grid. new chapter will be released tomorrow, enjoy this fluffy smau for the moment <33
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yourusername has posted!
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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and 12,950 others!
yourusername great weekend to be a tifosa <3
click to view 3,206 comments
alexandrasaintmleux: thank you for the family picture, i appreciate it 😘
charles_leclerc: hey pretty lady, you free tonight? 😉
yourusername: can yall flirt somewhere else, my single ass is NOT tolerating this type of slander on my page 🙄
charles_leclerc: i can set you up with one of my other friends
yourusername: REMEMBER HOW IT WENT LAST TIME?
alexandrasaintmleux: they call you coffee girl now...
yourusername: JUST BC I SPILT COFFEE ON THE GUY DOESN'T MAKE ME COFFEE GIRL
charles_leclerc: just change ur username to yncoffeegirl atp
yourusername: i hate both of you 🥰
charles_leclerc: the last picture is not true btw
yourusername: i cry everytime u guys don't win, u will lose this fight with me every single time. do NOT start.
charles_leclerc: IT'S NOT MY FAULT WE LOSE, I AM DRIVING A UNPOWERED WAGON SOMETIMES.
alexandrasaintmleux: aww, you guys already fight like siblings. where's the ring @/charles_leclerc?
charles_leclerc: this is where i take my exit ladies and gentlemen
user1: this is so hilarious i love them
user2: the fourth image is so real
user3: WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE SECOND PICTURE IM CRYING
user4: someone send me that banner rq
user5: you guys are so pretty :(
yourusername: please do not give me compliments, it will go STRAIGHT to my head
user6: the best thing the saint mleux sisters have done is unprivate their instagram, i love the content
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MAX'S POV
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maxverstappen1, alex_albon, georgerussell, oscarpiastri, pierregasly, lilymhe, carmenmmundt, lilyzneimer, francisca.cgomes just followed yourusername!
yourusername has just posted!
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liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and 57,879 others.
yourusername on the wrong side of the paddock this weekend, but i don't really mind. last picture is a bonus for everyone. special thank you to @/maxverstappen1 for giving me a special invitation <3
click to view 12,589 comments.
maxverstappen1: Lovely having you around this Grand Prix, same time next week, pretty?
yourusername: as long as ur the one giving me the paddock passes, might not come if charles gives me ferrari passes
maxverstappen1: Come to another date, yeah? That's the only way I'll forgive you for posting the last picture
yourusername: you're threatening me with a good time max <3
user7: MY BOYFRIENDABLE MAX CRUMBS
user8: y/n and max flirting on the tl? we love to see it
user7: WAIT I JUST READ THE COMMENTS THEY'RE FUCKING FLIRTING WITH EACHOTHER
charles_leclerc: weren't u the one that was raving about ferrari JUST LAST WEEK? ur crazy
charles_leclerc: AND THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT Y/N HAS BEEN CONVERTED INTO THE DARK SIDE? SHE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE HEART TO TELL ME HERSELF?
yourusername: weren't you the one to set this one up?🤨
charles_leclerc: wow im so happy for you converting into a red bull fan!
yourusername: yeah that's what i thought
user9: you guys are crackhead energy siblings, i love it
alexandrasaintmleux: you need to come stop by the ferrari garage next weekend, me and rebecca miss u!
iamrebeccad: sending love all the way from the ferrari garage!
francisca.cgomes: <333
user10: is this.... a soft launch.............
user11: wait i kinda see it
user12: im waiting for max to post something before i believe in it :(
user13: I'M DELUSIONAL SO YES THIS IS A SOFT LAUNCH
user14: seeing y/n in navy feels so weird after seeing her in red for so long
user15: wait am i delusional or........
user16: no see, you get it.
user17: THEY'RE FLIRTING IN THE COMMENTS GUYS. PLEASE. THIS IS A HARD LAUNCH
user18: i am a delusional bitch who likes seeing max happy so i will take this as a hard launch :D
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maxverstappen1 has posted!
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liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 546,908 others.
maxverstappen1 And that's P1, flawlessly done for the team this weekend. Looking forward to next weekend!
tagged yourusername.
click to view 27,986 comments
user19: what happened to hello? hi? good morning?
user20: SO THIS WAS THE HARD LAUNCH WE WERE LOOKING FOR
user21: wait is that y/n
user22: so we all weren't being delusional about y/n posting max last week, nice to know
yourusername: it was nice being in the red bull garage this weekend <3
maxverstappen1: I only won because my good luck charm was in the Red Bull garage and not in the red team's one
charles_leclerc: MY TEAM NAME IS NOT A CURSE YOU KNOW.
redbullracing: @/yourusername <3
yourusername: what are you doing here redbull admin 😭
user23: THE REDBULL ADMIN COMMENTED, IT'S OFFICIAL GUYS!!!
user24: DABHDHAWD IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM
user25: did we all realize how many of the wags and grid members followed y/n over the course of this weekend and last weekend????
user26: i think we all noticed it but we were waiting for the hard launch
oscarpiastri: Congrats on the race man, nothing less than perfection from you
georgerussell: hm...
charles_leclerc: you lost the bet, you owe me $20
georgerussell: oh cmon man
yourusername has posted!
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liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe and 107,593 others
yourusername hot girls get kissed by hot f1 drivers <3
tagged alexandrasaintmleux, maxverstappen1
click to view 50,938 comments.
maxverstappen1: You look so good in Red Bull merch.
yourusername: you look good in my arms :D
charles_leclerc: just so you know, i made this happen
yourusername: NOW ur taking credit, asshole
alexandrasaintmleux: actually *i* take credit bc i was the one who convinced her to continue to pursue max
maxverstappen1: Everyone say thank you Alexandra
user27: "thank you alexandra!!!" we all shout
user27: CHAT THEY'RE FLIRTING AGAIN
user28: they look so good together, i might actually die
user29: EWWWW (god when will this happen to me)
user30: yall have been speculating so hard on the bird app the other day and they go and do this in front of our salad
user 31: i'm so happy for you!
alexandrasaintmleux: so i'm assuming no more red merch from now on?
yourusername: max has thrown every single ferrari merch out the window :D he banned me from using a red article of clothing ever again
maxverstappen1: You have to assert dominance, you know?
redbullracing: It's nice to have you on our side of the garage now @/yourusername!
yourusername: you really gave me a jumpscare with that notif, redbull admin
scuderiaferrari: And another one of our soldiers lost to the dark side...
yourusername: I'M SORRY, I'LL COME VISIT OFTEN THO. I STILL LOVE YOU
maxverstappen1: 😡😡😡
charles_leclerc: i'm so happy for you guys. i can finally stop hearing my sister in law complain about being single everytime i take her sister out
yourusername: HELLO? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SISTER IN LAW? WHERE IS THE RING?
alexandrasaintmleux: oh you really can't keep a secret to yourself, can you?
yourusername: HELLO? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? ANSWER MY TEXTS??????????????
user32: did i see charles accidentally post an engagement announcement without posting an engagement announcement...?
user33: IT'S A GOOD DAY FOR LESTAPPEN GIRLIES
user34: the comments section is on fire btw
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very short but sweet, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this <3
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Good Girl
Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader
-After a hard day at work, you seek comfort in Matt. He knows exactly what you need.
cw: explicit material (oral m!receiving, daddy kink, hair pulling, praise kink) looooots of pet-names, use of ‘sir’, he says ‘slut’ one time, rough!matt, patronizing!matt, matt’s sort of mean in this :P in the hot way
a/n: minors Do Not Interact!! i tried my best to not describe the reader or use any language that would insinuate anything about her looks :) also no use of y/n i hate that shit. this is the first fic i’ve written in like six years so i appreciate all feedback!
⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇
It was Friday, the one day you got off work early enough to spend the rest of your night with Matt, it was around 6:30 when you finally parked your car in his driveway and made your way up the stairs. The day you just had was replaying in your mind, all the grief you got from your boss and the way every coworker on your floor watched you leave her office, eyes welling, face hot from the embarrassment. You couldn’t help but feel defeated, like you had deserved the verbal assault and all you wanted now was your boyfriend.
Matt was perfect. He knew exactly how you needed to be treated before you could even tell him, which was lucky for you, considering how flustered you got asking for anything, let alone something on the more sexual side. It’s why the closer you got to the top of the stairs the more your body started to relax, albeit this also meaning your eyes once again felt the hot prickle of tears ready to fall.
You felt relieved as you saw the living room empty with just one ambient light glowing from above the sink across from you. you followed your heart and the sound of Frank Ocean playing softly to Matt’s bedroom door, rapping lightly with your knuckles so as not to startle him. Walking in, you saw him doing what you expected, sitting heavily in his chair, headset half on so he could still hear the low melody from his speaker, making final edits on a new hour long video the boys had filmed that week.
Matt straightens in his seat as he turns to where you’re leaning against the doorframe, waiting for him to welcome you in, nervously picking at your thumbnail. “Hey, doll, c’mere.” a smile breaks over his face as he takes his headphones off and twists his chair to face you, holding his arms out.
Walking in, you try and muster up a smile but it falls short as the comfort of Matt’s presence makes your damn finally break. You traipse over to settle into his lap sideways and tuck your head under his chin already feeling the tears spill over onto your cheekbones. Matt must’ve felt the drops falling onto his sweater as he cranes his neck to see your face where it’s nestled into his collarbones, “Whats wrong, honey? hm?” he rubs your leg where its propped up on the side of his chair, squeezing you closer by the arm he has wrapped around your shoulder.
You feel his lips meet your forehead gently, resting them there more than kissing you, you bring your hand to tug on his sweater, shaking your head and letting out an almost imperceptible whine. “awe, poor girl, d’you have a rough day? want daddy to help, baby doll? we can go lay down or…” his sentence trails off as you slip from his lap onto the floor between his legs.
Matt lowly chuckles as he watches you get comfortable on your knees, looking up through your still-wet-lashes at him, laying your hands on his thighs and resting your cheek on his left leg. Matt’s amusement is evident in his voice, “what’re ya doin, silly girl. not gonna even ask me?” his smile stays playful as he moves his hands from atop yours to rest on the sides of your head, the feeling of his cool fingers lightly touching your ears and the pressure of his big hands causes you to almost purr in his hold.
The tension from your day a thing of the past as you feel your mind floating to a place only your boyfriend can take you to. “s-sorry” speaking is the last thing on your mind but a part of you knows matt loves hearing you have to explain yourself, loves how you squirm at his insistence and especially loves your willingness to fulfill his wish through your embarrassment. “need daddy, need you ta just do what you want please, don’t wanna think.”
Your voice is meek as you move your hands up his thighs feeling over his soft sweatpants, not pushing too far as you know matt hasn’t given express permission.
One of Matt’s hands move to meet yours where it’s resting on his upper thigh as his right hand slides to cup your jaw, rubbing his thumb against the apple of your cheek.
“hmm, my sweet girl.. you need daddy? thats okay sweetheart, just need to ask like a good girl, okay?”
His voice is gentle and guiding with the slightest glint of condescension, just enough to make your eyes slip closed, melting into his palm as you blearily nod at his instruction. “could I please make you feel good, daddy, and let you do what you want to me, please, sir?”
Matt feels his heart clench at your words, always loving how he can get you so eager and desperate for him, your soft voice adopting that airy quality, eyes sparkling, looking at him like he was your whole world. Matt can’t help himself as he leans forward and lands a sweet kiss to your hairline, your cheek, then down to the tip of your nose. “My girl~.. so polite, you know how much I love when you use your manners, huh? Good job, sweetheart..” His voice soothing and husky, you can tell he’s beginning to give into you, but you also know he’s not that easily swayed.
Matt leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, like he’s relaxing on the beach and not mentally torturing you as you squeeze your thighs together, squirming where you’re propped on your knees between his legs. “Please.. please?” you’re trying your hardest not to break into a full-on beg but looking up at his smug expression, legs spread and chin tilted up as he stares at you down his nose, you feel like youre going to burst out of your skin, needing him to just grab you and take you.
The only response Matt dignifies you with is a low chuckle and a patronizing ruffle to your hair, you know you should be angry or even ashamed but the only thing running through your mind is how thankful you are for him. You feel your body temperature rising as his hand stills and starts patting over your head, “Okay, sweetheart.” he drags out the oookay in a placating tone, “Why don’t ya show me how bad you need it, hm? If you’re not gonna tell me whats botherin you, you can show me where you need me, at the very least, huh?”
Matt’s words are all you need to hear as you lift up onto your heels, planting your hands on the muscle of his thighs and tilting forward to shyly nuzzle against the slight tent forming in his sweats. You look up, gauging his expression, feeling nervous no matter how many times Matt has reassured you that there’s just about nothing you could do to him that he wouldn’t love.
“Ah…” he drags the syllable as if he’s just connected the final clues to a mystery. “That’s what my dirty girl wanted. Need me let you sit there and have daddy take over like a good girl?” You nod lethargically, head swimming with desire, your nose brushing against the part of him you want the most. “Need it, i’ll be good, promise..” Hearing your own words distantly, you almost feel like someone else is in your head controlling you, opening your eyes to meet Matt’s devilish expression, you begin to half believe he is in your head.
You mouth desperately at his bulge, wetting the gray fabric of his pants, digging your fingers into the meat of his thighs, furrowing your brow at how close you are to what you’ve been thinking about all day. Matts large hand thats still resting on the crown of your head suddenly tightens to grip your hair firmly, “Okay, okay… let daddy take care of ya, princess. I can see how bad you need it, hm? Need to be put to use?” You begin to nod as much as you can while he still holds you by the hair, Matt kicks the chair from behind him as he stands in front of you, using his tight hold on your hair to make you crawl after him as he moves closer to the end of the bed.
The whine you let slip could only be described as pitiful. It makes Matt’s face light up as he lets go of you, smoothing your hair down and bending to kiss where he had previously been tugging you.
“Alright, babydoll stand up for me.” as you rise to your feet, finally feeling how numb your legs had become, you lilt forward to hug around his waist. Matt chuckles sweetly and uses a gentle hand on your jaw to tilt your head back, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.
The sheer intensity of the kiss makes you feel like you’ll never be able to breathe again, only able to inhale what he lets you, nose filled with his scent and a lingering breath of the cologne he must’ve put on this morning. If this is how you went, you would die happy. Matt holds you firmly by the back of the neck, using this leverage to pull back just slightly, lips barely touching as he examines the mess he made of you, in contrast, you study his composed demeanor, making you feel a flutter of shame at just how worked up you are knowing matt has barely even touched you.
The thing to snap you out of your own head is a soft thump from beneath you, looking down, realizing Matt has tossed a throw pillow on the floor in between you two. His hold on the nape of your neck stays firm as he lowers his head just a bit to really meet your hazy eyes, “You gonna be a good girl and get on the ground for me? I know your poor knees must hurt, hm? Sit on the pillow, doll, get comfy. Don’t wanna hurt ya too much.” The splitting grin on his face as he says this last sentence is enough to make you that much more aware of the arousal in between your legs.
Eyes never leaving each others as you drop to your knees, Matt’s hand cradling the side of your face. Once you’re settled his soft touch turns to a grip on your chin causing your lips to form into a pout, making him laugh at your position.
“Such a good slut, bet I could tell ya to do anything and you would.” He uses his tight hold on your face to manipulate your head into an exaggerated nod, “Uh huh, and you’d love it… love when daddy bosses you around, makes you humiliate yourself…” Matt’s smile stays wide but his eyes have lost all humor as he bends to be eye-level with you.
“But you don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart, you know i just wanna take care of you. Help you let go, stop doin all that thinking, huh? Yeah… ‘s too much for my girl, thats why you just gotta let daddy do all the thinking for ya.” He finishes his words with a light couple taps on your cheek. By the end of Matt’s monologue his smile is reaching his eyes and you can tell, even through the fog in your head, that he’s sincere, slightly teasing, yes, but he means what he’s saying, knows how much you need him to take over.
You only nod dumbly in response which gets you another tender kiss as a reward. Matt straightens out and lets go of your face, holding out his hands to you. “Gimme your hands, baby.” Your hands placed in his up-turned palms are then guided to hold his hips. “Want ya to keep your hands here for me, tap me twice if it’s too much, alright?” Matt’s stern tone letting you know that this was a rule not a suggestion, “Mhm, yes, sir.”
“Good girl~!” His voice as though he was giving a treat to a puppy who learned its first trick, causing you to squeeze your legs tighter, hyper aware of the wetness growing in your panties, and smile up at him lovingly.
“T-thank you, daddy..” Your low voice like kryptonite to your boyfriend, moving his hands from where they were settled over yours to play with your hair, gently twisting the strands with a blissed out look on his face.
“Okay, babydoll, I liked that little show you put on for me earlier but…” His voice trails slightly as he tugs on one of the strands of hair he’s still holding, “I dunno if you’ve demonstrated just how much you need me in your mouth, so daddy’s gonna let you try again, hm? How’s that sound?”
“Mhm mhm i’ll show you!” At this point your brain is so beyond feeling embarrassed you don’t even realize how pathetic you sound, only knowing you’re allowed to put yourself to some use, allowed to prove your devotion to Matt. Immediately leaning forward your mouth reattaches to the still damp spot on Matt’s sweats, licking and kissing at his erection, needing to convey all the words and feelings swirling in your head through your lips.
You’re still fully attached to him as your grip on his hips tighten, mumbling through the fabric, “Please, please lemme take ‘em off, your pants, please.” You feel like your skin is on fire, mouth too empty, head not empty enough. “Of course you can, princess, just remember, don’t move those hands.”
His words give you pause for a split second before you’re straining to bite at his waistband moving downward as you pull off his pants, you don’t even care that you hear him failing to stifle his laughter from above you, it only spurs you on, making you more wet, more hungry for him.
Matts hands in your hair start to move more to the back of your head, now pressing your face against his hard on, “That what you’ve been begging for this whole time? Daddy’s dick in your face, hm? Makes sense, what kinda guy would i be if i didn’t know how much my girl likes getting her face fucked, huh?” It’s these words that finally make you moan out loud, now more eager than ever to just get him down your throat.
“Please, please, need it so bad, more than anything please. Don’t wanna breathe anymore unless you want me to, need daddy to make it better~” You’re almost unaware of the words you’re saying as they tumble out of your mouth, Matt certainly enjoyed your little outburst as he lets out a quiet Fuck under his breath, now completely hard as he haphazardly tugs down his boxers, kicking them and his sweatpants from around his ankles, reaching to his back and pulling his sweater over his head.
Then just as you were about to get what you wanted, Matt pushes you back slightly at the shoulder, tugging meanly on your shirt, “Take all this shit off, keep your panties on.”
A shiver runs through you while you rush to take all your clothes off, obediently repositioning onto the pillow, feeling Matt’s scrutinizing eyes on you, making your face heat up. “Good job, doll, say ‘ah’…” His smile is verging on cruel as he holds your chin, pulling your mouth open.
You follow his orders and he immediately steps closer to you, slapping his tip against your tongue. “Ya look so pretty, baby…” his voice trails off as he uses the hand under your chin to guide your mouth onto him, letting out a deep groan and rolling his head back.
“Fuuuck, good girl…” Matt’s eyes are back on you as you slowly work your mouth up and down his length, your eyes slip closed, finally feeling your body and mind level out, you feel Matt’s big hands lay on your head, assisting your movements. “Open those eyes… ‘Atta girl.” his left hand moving down to lightly pinch your cheek, right hand petting you softly as he stares down at you- shiny lips, teary eyes, and puffed out cheeks.
Suddenly, the hand that was previously stroking over your hair, was now firm at the back of your head, pushing you forward.
Your brows furrow as you gag on Matt’s dick, feeling him hit the back of your throat as he holds you still, laughing under his breath at your spluttering breaths and the tears falling down your cheek.
“Such a good job, babydoll, know how much you love choking on it, hm?” the hand he has on the back of your head lets go, allowing you to pull back for a full breath of air. “So good, honey, i love how you take it, love how you’d do anything to please me..”
Immediately after taking a break to breathe you put him back in your mouth, fervently bobbing your head, sucking him down to his pubic bone, forcing yourself to stay there, looking up at Matt as he smiles down at you proudly. “That’s my good girl, want daddy to fuck your face, hm?”
You nod as much as you can with your mouth so full, Matts smug smile only getting bigger at your answer, he plants his hands on the side of your head and starts slow. Pulling you off him just a bit before tugging you back down, again and again. Matt’s moans and swears increase as you gag and choke on his dick, you can feel him pulsing in your mouth as he thrusts messily, “Fuck, so good, so perfect, angel.”, he pants out the words, throwing his head back and finally holding you down on him, cumming down your throat.
“That’s it, baby, good job. Swallow it all like a big girl…”, he pats your head lovingly, before nudging your head off of him. The floaty feeling not subsiding as you slump down, hands still gripping at Matt’s hips, looking up at him with stars in your eyes.
“Thank you, sir…”, is the only words you can think of, watching Matt as he slips his sweats back on, “Don’t need to thank me, babydoll, I love helpin you.”
Matt’s voice lulling you, he comes back over to you and leans forward, picking you up under your arms and holding you to his chest. “C’mon, sweet girl let’s go lay in bed, hm? Did so good for me, im so proud of you for tellin me what you need, such a good job.” Matt carries you to the head of his bed, laying you down and walking over to his wardrobe, grabbing a long sleeve shirt and dressing you in it, sitting sideways on his bed next to where you’re sitting back against his headboard. “D’you want daddy to take care of you, hm?”, he says this while rubbing up and down your thigh, lightly nudging your legs open. The blush that covers your face makes you feel more shy as you answer, “N-no, that’s okay… just wanted to make you feel good, it makes me feel good.”
Matt smiles brightly at you, cooing at your words. “Awe, baby, that’s so sweet…”, he brackets you in between his arms as he leans forward to kiss you deeply. “My sweet girl..”, another kiss, “You know I love you so much, right? More than anything, just wanna give you everything you ask for.”
Your arms reach up to wrap around Matt’s neck, tucking your face into his neck, your blush intensifying at his words, “I love you, too. So much. Thank you for always knowing what i need, you’re the best thing to happen to me.” You’re still hiding your face in his neck, too shy to see his face as you speak your mind.
Matt leans back, bringing you with him and positioning you in his lap, his hand on the side of your face pulling you away from his shoulder to look at him. “I’m always gonna take care of you, sweetheart, it’s my job.”
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ja3hwa · 2 days ago
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♡ 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞 | 𝐂.𝐉𝐇 ♡
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Day Twenty-Nine - Giant Au (Ft. Size Kink)
【Synopsis】 : Being betrothed and shipped off to far away from your kingdom was the least of your worries when you saw exactly who you were marrying...
『Word count』 : 4.50k
-> Genre: Smut. DND. Pwp. Slightly Angsty. Romance. 
Pairing: Half-Giant!Jongho x Human!Reader
[Warnings] : Mentions of being sold off. Toxic family live. Giant Queen Seonghwa, with his human husband Hongjoong cause why not hehe. Jongho IS the standard. Making out. Jonghos tongue is huge (everything about him is huge). Jongho is eleven feet tall (yes, you read that right). Nipple/Breast play. Petnames. Dirty talk. Oral (both rec). Jerking off. Humping? Thigh fucking. Body fucking?... Fingering. Multiple orgasms. Squirting.
Note: Please, please! I HIGHLY recommend everyone to go check out @Zylkco on instagram or twt. When i came across these pics on pinterest (the ones in the banner), I FLIPPED out! It took me ages to find the artist, but arggh now that i have. Its safe to say all of their content is absolutely amazing. But anywhoo, this fic is inspired by their amazing art. ♡♡
Also another note, I tried really hard to describe the different sizes given Jongho is a giant and the reader is human. So if something doesnt makes sense ignore it. Blame the dnd logic hehe.
Networks: @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity
Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Tip Jar ♡
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It wasn't like you hated your parents for the arranged marriage, really. It was more of a frustration that they didn't consult you prior to it. You wanted to be able to choose your own husband and forge your own path in the royal society. But alas, you had awoken one morning to your maid and dear friend bringing you the news of your new engagement.
The day is still a blur no matter how hard you try and remember it. You were fitted for a dress, sent to the court for approval, signed a bunch of marital wavers, stood in front of the king and queen—your dear parents— to be blessed and for their "approval", and before you knew it, the ceremony was completed, and you were being shipped off the the unknown lands—with a few of your belongings and a quick farewell from your family— to your darling husband. And who was your husband, you might wonder. You didn't hadn't the faintest clue.
Every time you were to ask anyone from the courts of your soon to be other half, they all went pale, quiet, and uncomfortable. Like speaking of him was a worse fate than death. Was he some beast? A ghoulish, hideous man that had paid for your hand? Was he a cruel creature who wanted a human to be his little play thing? All these thoughts did cross your mind throughout the day, spiralling into a ball of anxiety that sat right at the back of your throat. Your parents had reassured you, and by reassure they briefly said the marriage was for "unification and politics" before telling you to never bring it up ever again until after the ceremony when you were leaving for his kingdom forever.
So you here you sat, in your carriage awating the inevitable with a strong will and a unreadable expression. If there was one thing in your life growing up as the third daughter in your family, it was that you were just another chess piece in the royal game. You were no Knight, nor Rook, or Bishop. You were a pawn. A foot soldier to serve and protect the queen and king.
"We are here, princess." Your lady-in-waiting snapped you from your unruling thoughts, almost gifting you room to breath for a moment. Your eyes wandered to the little window in your carriage, seeing a ginormous castle. One that reached higher than the skies. The architecture was old, older than the first man. It had stood here tall for centuries and even then some. "Are you ready, Your Highness?"
You cleared your throat before existing the carriage. You could already see the coachman and baggage handler take you luggage off quickly, seemingly wanting not to be around when your husband and his workers arrive. Who could cause this much fear in humans? Vampires, elvin, and fae alike were at peace with your kind. Werewolves were unbothered by most, and Orcs, Barbarians, and ogers stick amongst their kind and would not need to take part in a political treaty. So what were you missing. The only other creature in the nine kingdoms that you could think of was...
"All the heavens above." The coachman gasped, shaking like a leaf while crossing his arm along his chest before rushing off for his seat on the carriage once against. The baggage boy was not fair trailing behind as a thump, thump, thump, shook the ground lightly. It couldn't be, your parents wouldn't...
"My darling wife." His deep mellow voice rang in your ears, making a smile grow on your features. All the horrible thoughts, the deepening anxiety, had quickly washed away as you turned to face where the voice had come from.
Your eyes met his with sparkle, a sparkle that didn't go unnoticed by the halfling-giant. His grey pale skin lightly dusting pink as he mimicked your smile. Your fingers laced in with your dress as you scanned to see his mother behind him. His mother was watching your every move with just as much curiosity as both your lady-in-waiting and the two men on the carriage. So, with a deep breath, you curtsy. "My dearest husband."
You were quickly shuffled inside the large estate, your maid following you close by before the other smaller worker giants that only ranged between six-to-nine feet tall hurried her off to the other humans maid quarters. You stood up straight next to your husband, Prince Jongho, while you watched the queen wave off the a florist that held a huge arrangement of flowers, finally leaving the three of you alone.
"Ah, now that we are alone." The queen sighed, pinching his nose lightly while he watched the last of his workers leave the ballroom to give the three of you privacy. This was the moment your body began to shake as you turned your neck slightly to the eleven foot tall man beside you. His gummy smile was beaming as he eyebrows raised with anticipation.
"Yeeeeeee." You squealed, jumping for the giant, letting him grab your small waist as he lifted you with no effort as he could hug your figure. Your feet were off the ground as your arms wrapped as best as they could around his neck, holding him tightly. "Jongho, you ass!!"
"Language!" His mother, the queen scoffed a laugh, finding the moment between you both adorable.
"I'm sorry, Queen Seonghwa..." You addressed Jongho's mother by his first name, feeling relief rush through you. Jongho let you back to the floor, dusting the layers of your dress. "I was under the impression I was going to be married off to some bog creature. No one, not even my parents, would tell me who I was betrothed to." You sighed, tilting your head slightly with a hand on your pounding heart, finally feeling some relief from the gruling endeavour today.
"Strange? I've known for the past month that i as betrothed, and then I was told two days ago you were going to be my wife" He looked over at his mother, and Seonghwa just shook his head slightly. He knew your parents all too well. They have been fearful of the giant clans for decades. But contrary to popular belief, giants weren't these creatures of cruelness, gold hoarding, and war. They were peaceful, gentle, and wise. But people see size and decide for themselves what is deemed good and bad.
"I'm sorry dear. This was planned for many months. I suggested a betrothal to unite our kingdoms, beating the alternative your father gets restless and chooses war...again." Seonghwa sighed, pouring a glass of wine by the table near the window. The large gauntlet was at least two sizes too big for your hands. You glanced at the interior of the room, taking in the beautiful architecture while your mind wondered. Your father was the type of man to go to war over the stupidest things. So, for Jongho's mother to suggest marriage, even though he always said to "find love with your heart, not the mind of society," must have meant he had no other choice.
"It's okay." You gave him a crooked smile before chuckling almost painfully, "at least it wasn't any of my other sisters... they wouldn't have taken this offer with such open arms like me." You looked back to Jongho, seeing him watch your every move. You still remember the day you met him. He was practising archery in the woods by the border of your kingdom. You had never met a giant, let alone a half-bred one of that, so the minute you saw him completely focused on his bow and arrow, you became infatuated. He, of course, saw you instantly, finding it nice to meet more humans other than his staff and his father.
"Well, I have a wedding to plan. And normally, with human traditions, you're not allowed to see one another before, but I think we can make an expectation. Just so you can settle in. Hhm?" Seonghwa downed the rest of his drink before fixing his hair slightly with a smile, "I'm going to go find your father. He's probably in his study again.”
As you hear Seonghwa’s heels, click off into the distant hall. You are suddenly left with your thoughts again. You could feel Jongho’s eyes on you, watching, waiting. He wasn’t going to lie. The first day he met you, he was smitten. He still remembers the look on his parents' faces when he came home with a passionate grin on his face. They both knew he was in love before he even did. He spent nights dreaming of you after that, the cute little human that gave him her undying attention.
“Let me show you to our quarters.” Jongho’s voice was staggering, almost nervous. But your little smile made his heart at ease slightly. Walking through the corridors of the large estate was nothing more than out of your fairytales. It even puts your own home to shame. It was lavish, well kept, and filled with endless antiques and history. You could spend days wandering and would never get tired. “This is our room.”
Jongho's soft voice draws you from your thoughts as you gaze inside the decorative room. Everything was in pairs, you noticed. Two wine glasses on the counter, one small and one large. A perfect fit for you and your soon to be husband. Chairs both various sizes and so forth. Jongho's family really did know about this arrangement for months given how much they had prepared, and your parents didn't even bother to tell you that you were getting married until the day of your departure.
Deep down you knew it was because both Your mother and father hated the idea of owning their actions and this would have definitely caused you to flip out if you didn't know who and when you were to be married. So waiting for the day was skillfully planned in their eyes. Even if it did hurt their daughter, they did not care.
“You like it…” Jongho asked nervously, fiddling with his fingers as he watched you inspect the room delicately. You nodded, giving him a small smile before a sigh.
“It's beautiful, perfect in fact. I'm just…” You didn't wish to taint the mood. This was your wedding day, after all. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, not some moopy mess.
“You wished it happened differently…” A part of Jongse's words indicated himself, meaning he was not the one you wanted. It hurt him to admit it, but he knew if you didn't love him, he would still try and make this marriage to your liking. If you wanted to see other men, have a relationship, or bear someone elses children, he would be ready and glad to give you that. He would give you the moon if you so wished. Rather seeing you happy was all he could wish for.
You turned to him, grabbing his one hand with both of yours, your fingers only just wrapping around his pointer finger. “I couldn't have wished for anything better. I'm so glad it was you who I saw walk out from those doors. I was dreading all day what ghoulish creature paid for my hand.” You bring his hand up to your face, nuzzling on his palm slightly. “But it was you. my big giant, saving me yet again.”
You hinted at your feelings and the first encounter you shared. In truth that day you met him in the woods you weren't there to stroll around but in fact you were hiding from one of your parents courters sons that had wished to “get to know you more” As he put it. But with wandering hands and bad breath you knew what he wanted from you and it caused a panic, so you fled into the forest for some air, and instead of finding solace and peace you found your giant. When Lucas, the court's son, managed to finally find you. He was quick to run upon seeing such a “Huge Beast”. Jongho had a few remarks of his own that day, which still manages to make you laugh every time you think back to them.
Jongho couldn't help but chuckle at the pet name. Using the hand you held to brush any stray hair out of your face. He looked at you with nothing but love and devotion, something you are very unfamiliar with. It sent a tingle down your spine, and as his hand travelled to your hip, almost engulfing your entire side, you gulped.
You glanced for a moment around the spacious chamber, finally setting your eyes on a massive bed that dominated the room. "It's so big," you remarked gently, your voice quiet and quaint. Jongho blushed for a moment, biting his inner cheek at your choice of words.
"Wanna test it out," Though his query was innocent, the lingering of desire was brewing just below the surface making his alluringly deep voice send shivers down your spine. You gave him a little smile before agreeing, letting his hand that was resting on your hip to wrap completely around your waist. “Can I…”
You blushed before nodding, knowing what he wanted to do. You lifted your hands so he could easily lift you gently off the ground. And with you comfortably in his hand, he guides you to the bed, feeling an electric spark passing between one another with every step. He let you go as soon as you got to the edge, letting you fall with a ‘oof’ onto the soft sheets. You sighed with a bright smile, feeling content on the bed, letting your eyes flutter closed for a moment, taking in the surroundings.
Jongho watched you as you visibly started to relax. All the anxiousness and frustration from your parents began to wash away, leaving nothing but contentment and peace. Jongho took a seat next to you, laying down on his back while putting his arm under the back of his head. You sneakily open one eye, watching your friend shuffle gently. You couldn't help but smirk at his care to detail, not wanting to disturb you.
You both laid there in silence for a moment, just taking everything in. But you couldn’t help but think about the arrangement in full. This marriage is nothing but political in the eyes of the courts. Both of you coming from races that couldn't be more different from the other. Your cultures, your laws, myths, morals. Everything is different. Especially size.
You can't lie. The idea of seeing what Jongho is packing didn't bring your mouth to water and your thighs to clench. But of course, you knew he'd be too big to ever fit inside you. You had heard of elixirs that grant you a large size or to shrink. So maybe one day you could use one of them to… Perform your marital duties. But for now, being with him like this would be just as enjoyable.
“Jongho. Do you want to have sex with me?” You don't know why you blurted that out like that, but it made the poor half giant sit up dead straight getting a head rush as he did.
“W-what…” Jongho gulped, leaning on his hand so he could turn his body towards yours.
“Like… I mean, I've always loved you, and getting married to you is single-handedly one of the greatest things ever—woah, wait, slow down.” Jongho cut off your rambling, both your and his cheeks flustered with embarrassment and shock.
Jongho's face lit up with a grin, and he let out a nervous laugh. "I agree marrying you is great but…” he stared at you for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking. “I love you too. I was so scared to tell you. I thought you'd never want to marry a big, clumsy giant like me..."
You took his hand in your small one, a boldness surging through you. "You're not clumsy. You're perfect. And I can't wait to be your wife properly." With that, you leaned forward, to stand. Jongho got the hint, leaning down, his eleven foot frame towering your small human figure. His mouth met yours in a passionate kiss. You felt Jongho's tongue slip past your lips, exploring your mouth, its size filling you entirely making you gag slightly. But you couldn't help but moan softly, a sound that seemed to spur Jongho on.
“Come here…” he chuckled, slipping his tongue out of your throat, his fingers finding the laces on your dress, snapping them. You gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.
“I liked this dress.” You huffed, letting the corset lining fall off you along with all the other layered material of the gown.
“I'll get you a new one. A better one.” Jongho grunted, helping you throw the dress away onto the floor of the room. You were left in your undergarments as Jongho moved to his suit, tugging off all the buttons and material he could until he was completely bare. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw his cock spring free from his garments. He was huge, almost the size of your whole waist length and as Jonghos hand wrapped around the appendage to pump himself you noticed…
Hes only half hard.
“Fuck…” You gulpped, feel the biggest urge to touch his throbbing cock. But Jongho had other plans as he helping you pull off the rest of your underwear, he laid you down on the soft pillow while he sat on his side, one of his large arms caging above while while the other tucks under your ass, letting your legs hang over his forearm.
“My pretty wife.” His whisper sent shivers down your spine. As he gave you a short, sweet kiss. His tongue travelled to lather your neck before slipping between the valley on your breasts. Your gasp was short and staggered as he latched his lip to your hardened nipples. His mouth almost covered your whole breasts, but with hands flying to his soft head of hair, you knew your lover boy was on a mission. “So perfect.”
His sweet grunts made your head spin as he kissed along your figure, his large fingers pinching your nipples as his tongue lapped at your navel all the way to your pelvis. “Want me to…”
Jongho’s voice was deeper than normal, filling with lust as he spread your legs wide. He eyed your dripping cunt waiting patiently for you to let him have his way. “I mean sure… If you wan—oh fUCK!!”
His tongue flattened against your cunt as his left hand held your securely while the right cupped your breast. His large fingers lazily squeezed your body while his tongue lapped at your juices all the while your own hands tugged his hair sharply earning a gravelled groan from Jongho. Your body felt like it was heating up quicker than you could react, and before you could say anything, you felt Jongho's large tongue slip inside your waiting hole. It was almost same thicken of a normal human cock maybe a little bit smaller in girth but, fuck did it make you see stars. “JONGHO!! Nangh!!”
Your body shook as your high slowly began to die down, Jongho slowly slipping his tongue from your sensitive hole. “Felt good?” Jongho murmured, coming back up so his face was inches from yours. You nodded, grabbing his face before whimpering against his lips, “Very good.”
He rolled you over so you could climb onto his huge chest. Your kiss broke while you sat up to smile at him. “Your turn. Husband.” You purred, making Jongho chuckle at the title you gifted him.
“I have no complaints about that.” He gave you one of his signature gummy smiles. With your bare pussy on his abdomen he grabbed you gently by the waist tugging you towards him. “Come here, my love. Let me bite those perfect tits while I sort myself out.”
“No…Wait, let me do it for you.” You brushed his hand off you so you could turn around. You felt your inhibitions melt away as you responded with boldness you didn't know you possessed. "I want to do it for you..." With that, you crawled towards his waiting cock letting Jongho see your pretty pussy dripping as you stood on all fours.
“Fuck…knock yourself out, baby.” He groaned as he watched you straddle his pelvis, grinding against him while you wrapped your legs around his appendage, his length being the same size as you from neck to the bottom of your waist.. “It might not be a good fit, but you still like it, don’t you.”
Jongho chuckled, his filter dropping with all his nerves finally washing away. You whimpered in response, grabbing his tip with both hands as you said, “Yes..I like it a lot.” Your tongue licked along his long slit. “I love it…” Using two hands, you pumped his shaft while you swallowed his precum that dripped out. Your small tongue might not be much but the feeling of your whole body practically humping against his whole cock got Jongho aching for more.
“Fuck baby, use your body more.” He felt like he was about to lose control, grabbing your ass to push you against his cock more.
“Like this?” You moaned feeling his cock rubbed against your clit perfectly. He let out a staggering, ‘yes like that.’ before thrusting your body a little bit harsher.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren't you?”Jongho groaned, his hands holding your hips firmly as he guided your movements. "Your little cunt is dripping on my cock." You giggled, a playful glint in your eye as you spat on to his tip before slurping it up so you could take as much of him in your mouth as you could—which wasn't a lot at all.
“Wait, this gives me an idea…” He suddenly stopped his movements, wrapping his hand about your waist to tug you off his cock you looked over your shoulder seeing Jongho dishevelled. Panting with blown out pupils. “I'm going to be a little rough with you, is that okay?”
You nodded watching as Jongho, with a firm motion, lifted your whole body as if you were just a little doll, positioning you so that your thighs were wrapped around his cock, his hands tightly digging into your flesh while your back rested against his large heaving chest. Your breath quickened as you looked up at Jongho, your eyes reflecting your desire. And slowly, he started to jerk himself off with your thighs, his head falling back against the pillows as his mouth hung open, spewing out filth and whines. “Just relax. I'll move your little body…Fuck you feel so good.”
You gasped feeling your clit rub harshly against his shaft while his increasing harsh thrust caused a mixture of pleasure and excitement to cross your face. You watched as his cock slid through your wet, soaking thighs, feeling your hole clenched hard, begging for the day when you could have him inside you. You helped by squeezing your legs tighter as you noticed his heels dig into the mattress more while he picked up his thrusts. Both you and his grunts and groans fill the room.
Your hands gripped his chest, your nails digging into his skin as you met his thrusts with your own eager movements, chasing your own high. You could feel your orgasm building, a coil of pleasure in the pit of your stomach, ready to explode. "Jongho, I'm so close," you cried out, your voice hoarse with desire.
With a final, powerful thrust, Jongho pushed himself tightly between your plump thighs. He let you go grabbing his own cock to jerk himself vigorously. You felt Jongho's cock twitch against your opened sticky thighs, his thick, hot cum spilling all over your body. Ropes after ropes of his juices coat your waist, face and even some in your hair. The sensation pushed you over the edge, as you cried out, your body shaking as your orgasm washed over you.
“Fuck, hell can swallow me whole. That was the hottest thing ever. I'm definitely keeping this in mind.” Jongho panting, his hand gently stroking your hair.
But you rotate, facing him. “Uh…J-Jjongie.”
“Hm?” Jongho finally sat his head up, his dark eyes gazing upon your dishevelled and ruined figure. The way his cum drips slowly down your chin, between your breast and pooling onto his chest. He couldn't help but groan. “Oh fuck… Sorry about that, love.”
“It's okay… Could you just h-help me, please?” You tried to wipe some of the cum off your face with a pout. He quickly reached for the sheet that had bunched up before using it to wipe you clean as best as you can.
“Sorry my love. Not gonna lie, though. You look really hot right now…” He chuckled, throwing the sheet somewhere in the room. You gaze at him for a moment, not realising you were pouting as your wide eyes bored holes into Jongho. It was only when he started chuckling that you noticed what you were doing. “What is it, baby? You need more?”
He hands grabbed your ass pulling your cheeks apart as his eyes narrow “Need me to fill you up?” You nodded shyly, blushing like crazy. He slips one finger inside your sensitive cunt, thrusting slowly making you shiver as you moan his name over and over. He couldn't help but bite his bottom lip as he scrunched his nose while grunting. “Wanna another on baby. Do you think you can take two?”
“Yes yes please hurry.” You whine spreading your legs further so he could sink another finger deep inside you.
“So impatient baby. Are you close already?” He growled, drilling his fingers into you harshly. Squelching wet noises echo in the room as your voice pitches higher as you get closer and closer to your orgasms. “Wow, I barely put them in, and you're already close. You're gonna cum around my fingers, love.”
“Fuck, yes!” your eyes squeezed shut as you felt yourself tip over the edge squirting all over his fingers.
As your passions calmed, and Jongho withdrew from your cunt slowly, a slick trail of cum connecting his fingers to your ruined pussy momentarily. You smiled, a satisfied grin on your face as you snuggled on top of his chest, your hand slowly drawing circles against his sweaty skin. “Satisfied, my love?”
“Hmm, I'll be more happy when I finally get to walk down the aisle and get married to my giant husband.” You whispered, a mischievous glint in your eye
Jongho pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I can't wait either, my tiny wife.”
281 notes · View notes
aakeysmash · 24 hours ago
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you manage to make college!sukuna take yuuji trick or treating
college!sukuna masterlist
You barely put your foot inside the apartment when you hear sniffling coming from the kitchen.
“Please ‘Kuna, I can’t go alone,” Yuuji mumbles, moving a single piece of spaghetti around his plate.
Sukuna huffs, standing up from the table. "Can't you just go with that kid you invited over the other day? Meg... Meg something?"
"No! I already told you I can't, like 3 times!" Yuuji starts, getting progressively more frustrated.
"Don't throw a fucking tantrum, Yuuji, you know I hate that shit," the older grits out, cleaning his plate.
"But-"
"Hello...?" you say, peeking inside. Two sets of eyes fix on you, and silence engulfs the three of you for what feels like the longest three seconds ever. "Y'all are weird," you whisper, getting inside and going to the fridge. Yuuji waves at you, trying to be polite even if you can see he's on the brink of tears, before the two brothers in the room with you resume their conversation.
"Brat, I'm not coming. I have assignments," Sukuna sighs. He doesn't turn around, he knows Yuuji is pouting and he might or might not have lied. Well, not completely: he does have to turn in two different projects for his economics class, but he's almost finished. He did say he would take a double shift the night Yuuji is asking him about though. They're tight on money, but it's not like he wants to admit that to his little brother. Is this what guilt feels like?
The little pink haired boy sniffles, then nods. "It's okay," he slurs out, cleaning after himself in silence. For the next 5 minutes, you can hear a pin drop from how silent it is. Sukuna keeps on washing dishes, Yuuji keeps on cleaning the table.
You're still standing by the fridge, trying to mind your own business, but seeing the whole scene makes the hair on your nape stand up. The two siblings would have the same stoic and unmoving face if it wasn't for Yuuji's lip trembling imperceptibly from time to time.
"I'm going to my room. Sorry for having bothered you, 'Kuna," the little one says, opening the door to the kitchen softly, and closing it even softer. Sukuna inhales strongly, putting his hands on the counter in front of him and closing his eyes. You feel like if you breathe harder than what a mosquito does, he'll crash out.
He pats his pockets repeatedly, searching for something. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and turns around to reach for the lighter you keep in the first drawer, when your voice startles him. Seeing him startled startles you too. He's never startled. What is going on?
"I thought you quit."
"Mind your own fucking business," he snarls, snatching open the drawer.
"What's got your panties in a twist?" you reply, matching his rudeness.
"Can you shut the fuck up? Damn," he continues, glaring at you, taking one big drag of the pressed tobacco between his fingers.
"No, I'd like to eat a normal dinner with both of you today, so are you going to tell me what is going on or do I have to ask your crying nine year old little brother?" you hiss out, snatching the cigarette he just lit and tossing it in the sink, still wet from when he washed his dishes, effectively turning it off.
He's on you in a second. "Don't piss me off, woman," he says, trapping you between the sink and his body. He's towering over you, and he has to bend down to look at you properly. "Stay out of it," he says, menacingly. You gulp, but you're not finished. And most importantly, you know him. You've been living together for forever, or maybe it feels like it because you're always together, either for Yuuji or because... wait, why are you always together?
"I'll stop when I feel like it, Sukuna," you say, getting closer to his face. Your voice is clear, your nose an inch from his own. You look into each other's eyes so intensely that if you had the power to shoot lasers he'd be blind by now. You're about to speak up again, when he headbutts you. Hard.
"Ouch!" you yelp, punching him in the arm as hard as you can. He just traps your fist in his, squeezing until you wince, then lets go, smirking.
"Don't play with me, girl," he says while getting off of you. You pout, rubbing the spot he hit on your forehead.
"Asshole," you mumble.
"Mh? What'd you say?"
"Nothing, sir," you respond mockingly, assuming the position of a soldier. "You know what, I'm going to report you to the police for domestic violence," you continue, still pouting.
He throws you a single cube of ice. You raise an eyebrow.
"That's all we have, make it work. I ain't got the money for court," he shrugs.
Something clicks in your brain. You know he sees it. You see it from the way his eyes widen waiting for you. "Is this what this was about?"
He sighs, then sits on the floor across from your figure, which is still standing by the sink. You raise the ice cube on your forehead. This feels nice.
"Yuu asked me to accompany him trick or treating on Halloween."
You wait, but he's not looking at you anymore. He seems distant.
"Oookaaay, and...?" you push. He sighs again. His hand repeatedly passes through his pink locks.
"I picked up a double shift for Halloween like... last week. I can't lose the money right now, or I won't have enough for rent on the 1st," he grits out, keeping his head low. You hum. You throw the melted ice cube in the sink near the cigarette. The image makes you smile. It looks like you two.
You get down on the floor too, the tip of your sock clad feet grazing his.
"You could've asked me, you know," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. He scoffs.
"Baby, I know you're whipped, but I didn't think you wanted to be a sugar mommy at twentytwo," he says smirking. You try kicking him, but he just gets out of the way, snickering. "I'm not asking a girl for money, that's fucking humiliating."
"I'm serious, idiot. If you didn't want the money I could've taken Yuuji for you, it's not like it's the first time," you tell him, rolling your eyes. "He tried to be strong for you at the end, I know you know," you add, delicately this time, Tentatively. He stares at you and sighs for what feels like the hundredth time. He grabs your foot again and manspreads, just to position your calf on his thigh. This position feels incredibly intimate, and you try not to stiffen. You two have never been the cuddly type of roommates, but he looks like he could use a little bit of physical contact.
"It wouldn't be the same. He wants me there because all of the other kids are with their families, even if he doesn't want to tell me so. Satoru texted me about it this morning. He's taking the two brats he basically adopted too," he rambles. Sukuna is not one to open up, so you just let him talk, absorbing everything like a sponge.
"Couldn't you like... move the appointments up by a few hours?" you ask.
"I could, but I still have two fucking assignments for Halloween. If I don't turn them in I'm fucked, and I need the scholarship," he grits out. His thumb caresses your exposed ankle mindlessly. Shivers run up the entirety of your leg.
Suddenly, an idea pops into your mind.
"But what if you had an amazing roommate who oh so happened to love your brother so dearly that could turn said assignments in for you if it meant to see him happy?" you say, looking at him expectantly.
"I can't ask you that, come on," he rolls his eyes. You jump up, almost falling over him in the process. "I'm not doing that for free."
"I knew you were a bitch," he growls. You just whistle, going toward the door. He squeezes his eyes hard, before opening them, jumping up too and grabbing your wrist before you can exit the kitchen.
"What do you want?"
You grin.
That's how you find yourself holding a badly sponged muscled up Tarzan-Yuuji's little hand while going from door to door, your cute yellow Jane dress on.
"Might have given you a concussion the other day, doll," Sukuna, dressed as a monkey, grumbles next to you. You laugh, and he throws you a mean glare.
Yuuji leaves your side and runs up to his friends, screaming "Trick or treat!" with them, beaming. He looks back at you from time to time, smiling, offering you something every time the people he rings the doorbell of give him more than one candy.
You suddenly feel an arm drape over your shoulders roughly, before getting slammed into a hairy side.
"Thank you, y'know," Sukuna mumbles near your ear, pressing your head in a way where you're not able to see his expression. Then, he pushes you away. "Not for the fucking costume, that's for sure," he adds, disgusted, scratching his neck and arm at the same time. You just stand there, mouth gaping a little, in front of him.
"Cat got your tongue, sugar mama?" He tells you after a while, grinning.
You scowl, fake mad, before chuckling. "Who knew you were capable of saying thank you?"
"Don't get used to it."
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fastandcarlos · 1 day ago
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Family Bubble : ̗̀➛ Fernando Alonso
summary: some soft fernando as you enjoy some rare family time
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Your smile couldn’t help but turn up as you watched Fernando walk out into the garden, your daughter held tightly in his arms having just woken up. You pulled a chair over for him to sit down on, peering across to take a look at the slightly sleepy haze that was over her eyes. 
Across the garden the squeal of your son could be heard as he ran around on the swing set Fernando had installed as a surprise for him. Not knowing how he would adapt to becoming big brother, Fernando was keen to find something that would make him smile. 
You were left in your seat overlooking the sunshine, your body still aching from what you had gone through just a few days prior. Fernando didn’t let you lift a finger, running around for every little thing that you needed, keeping both of your children entertained whilst you sat back and recovered. 
“Someone is still a tad sleepy,” Fernando grinned as he took his seat, resting your daughter against his chest. “Do you want anything?” He then asked, watching as your head shook, your hands gripping onto the arms of either side of your chair. 
“I need a drink,” you told him, “but I can go and get it, it’s about time that I got up and stretched my legs for a little while.” 
Fernando quickly leaned across and placed your daughter into your arms before you could begin lifting yourself up off of the chair, standing himself up instead and looking down at you. 
“What would you like?” He questioned, sniggering at your eyes rolling, having come to expect Fernando waiting on you hand and foot. 
You couldn’t help but laugh though at how keen he was to help, “just a water, nothing special.” 
“Anything else? Are you comfy enough? Are you due any pain meds soon?” Fernando quizzed, running through his own checklist in his mind that he’d written of things he could do to help you. 
Your head shook as you shuffled slightly, adjusting how you sat so you were more comfortable holding your daughter. “I’m alright, honestly, stop worrying about me before you kill me off from dehydration.” 
“Sorry, I just know what you’re like sometimes my love.” 
“I’ll tell you if there’s anything, promise.” 
Fernando’s head reluctantly nodded, “I know I’m annoying, but I just want to be sure. You’ve given me the greatest gift again and I just want to make sure I repay you.” 
“Being an amazing dad is repaying me enough,” you assured him, “and that you most definitely are. There’s nothing else I need, aside from a glass of damn water Fernando.” 
“Sorry. Sorry. I promise that I’m on my way to go and get it this time.” 
Fernando walked back into the house to get you a drink as you leant back, your eyes firmly watching over your daughter. Her bright eyes and the laughter from your son in the background were the perfect pair to make your heart swell and your smile wide as you relaxed once again. 
In the blink of an eye, Fernando returned with your glass of water, handing it across to you. Rather than sit back down beside you, his eyes watched over your son, swinging himself as high as he possibly could, squealing each time he got a little too cocky and frightened himself with how high he was. 
“He’s taking to this big brother thing a lot better than I thought he would,” you spoke, following to where Fernando’s eyes were looking. “I thought he’d hate not having our attention all the time, but if anything, he doesn’t seem to want it at all, he’s happy all by himself.” 
“That’s because we’ve done such a good job with him so far,” Fernando proudly told you. “He won’t admit it, but I think he loves having a little sister anyway.” 
When you first told your son that you were pregnant, he didn’t show much emotion. However, as you started to let him help you pick out outfits, come up with names, and join Fernando in decorating her nursery, he soon came around to the idea. 
“We’ve got such a good team,” Fernando smiled, taking his seat down beside you again. “I hope that having these two has been worth all the pain that you’ve endured.” 
“Of course, they’re the best thing to ever happen,” you responded, watching as Fernando’s eyebrow raised back at you. “Aside from meeting you, of course.” 
“You almost offended me there.” 
“I mean without you, none of this would have even been possible,” you reminded him. 
Fernando nodded in agreement with you, resting his hand against your thigh. “I couldn’t have dreamt of a more perfect family. Sitting here doing absolutely nothing somehow feels like the best thing in the world.” 
“Who needs to go racing at over two hundred miles an hour for an adrenaline kick, right?” You couldn’t help but tease, “all you need is two children and a needy wife.” 
“I think you’re justified to be needy for a little while.” 
Nothing would ever be enough for Fernando to show how appreciative for what you had done, bringing not one, but two children into the world. Both times were just as special, leaving him overwhelmed and more in love then he ever thought he could feel, barely able to contain his emotions each time too. 
“How can two little humans consume so much our lives,” Fernando whispered to himself, “they’re so unaware of just how in love we are with the two of them, aren’t we?” 
You hummed in agreement with Fernando, “one day they’ll know just how loved they are, all the sacrifices we’ve made to make sure that they have the most incredible life.” 
“There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for these two, and you, obviously too.” 
As the two of you fell silent, your son called out waving Fernando over to play with him. His eyes quickly checked on the two of you, making sure that you were alright before standing up and heading over to where your son was, still swinging himself sky high. 
“What’s going on bud?” Fernando smiled, watching him slow himself down. 
Your son stopped on the swing, digging his feet into the ground. “Can you push me for a while? I want to go high up into the clouds like an astronaut,” he told him, watching as Fernando’s smile turned up, impressed with his son’s aspirations. 
Fernando was soon back in his bubble of adoration, pushing his son as high as he could. Every so often he still looked in your direction, never quite able to stop himself from worrying. Everything was just so perfect for Fernando and he didn’t ever want to run the risk of his perfect life changing. 
From afar, you watched on, bouncing your daughter gently in your arms as the two boys were lost in their own conversation, talking big about their dreams for the future. 
“Your daddy really is the best,” you whispered down to your daughter, just as Fernando told your son... 
“Isn’t mummy the best in the world?” 
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
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with-my-calamitous-love · 2 days ago
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HELP ME HOLD ONTO YOU / WE WILL NEVER GO BACK
katsuki bakugou x reader
after the war, katsuki still deals with the trauma and the hurt. in a moment of what he thinks is weakness, you help him through a panic attack.
based on a convo i had with @suksatoru ❄️
inspired by the archer + the great war
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after the war, he’s seen cruelty. he knows it well.
his knuckles were bruised like violets, long after his injuries healed and his blood stopped escaping him. the flashes of the battle still came back to him in hazy blurs. he’s got a hundred thrown out speeches, things he could still say but doesn’t.
he was now the #1 hero. he married you and became one of the most well-respected men in the country. he survived the war. but he still feels like the hero in him, maybe just a small part, died alongside those undeserving villains.
he’s getting old, and he knows what it feels like to be on both sides. he’s been the archer, and he’s been the prey. he survived, but now more eyes were on him. he could survive the battle, but now, he wasn’t sure if he could survive ever knowing if he’ll live up to what he’s made out to be.
the great, mighty explosion king katsuki bakugou actually had doubts about himself.
and he can't thank you enough for being there for him. things have been insanely stressful lately. theres been more crime and more unrest, and he feels like he's going to go insane from sheer exhaustion. the room is on fire, but only for him. theres invisible smoke only he can see. where everyone sees a strong, selfless hero, katsuki sees a soldier returning only half his weight.
right now, he’s pacing like a ghost. he’s just gotten home and somehow, all the oxygen has been swept from his lungs. he feels his knees get weak as he tried to make sense of it all- the bloodshed and those crimson clovers. if he survived, why did he feel like punishing himself for things he never did? why was he justifying it?
he hates his reflection. he has for years. all of his heroes, everyone he’s believed in has died, all alone and away from him. apart of him is waiting for that dark side, that sign that he isn’t actually alright here.
he sinks down on the couch, defeated. he doesn’t even realize he’s crying.
not until you gently cup his face, and wipe away his tears.
he blinks, breathing still ragged. he acknowledges that you’re there but can’t make out anything. his vision is blurred with salt streams.
the sound of your voice, asking him whats wrong, barely registers in his mind. his red eyes search to find you, and you can see that pain. he’s hurt. he’s wounded. and he’s pretending that he isn’t.
“breathe.” you whisper. he honestly expects you to yell, to slap him back to reality. but you don’t. you hush him to safety. “breathe, katsuki.”
he tries to follow your instruction, focusing on his breathing. he tries to ruminate on the feeling of your hands gently rubbing his back, or the subtle weight in his lap, and the feeling of your hair against his skin. but god dammit, it's hard.
he’s struggling to keep his breathing regulated, taking short, shaky breaths, as he continues to hold onto you.
you take his hand, and place it over your beating heart. somewhere in the haze, you’re helping him hold onto you.
and he feels it. the steady, reassuring beats of your heart. the rhythm of blood pumping through your veins. he takes in the feeling, letting it wash over his senses. he can slowly feel the panic start to subside, his breaths coming out more regularly, at least for a moment. he can still faintly feel his heart pounding against his chest, and his breaths stuttering every now and again. he’s terrified that at any moment, the panic will take over again. he never wants to go back to that.
you take his face in your hands, making sure he’s listening. “nod if you can understand me.”
he nods, trying to focus on your words. the feeling of your hand on his face, and the touch of your forehead against his- it's grounding him. its helping him to calm down, and he's so fucking grateful for that. even though his legs are shaking, and he's still holding onto you desperately, he nods, letting you know that he's still conscious. he wasn’t gonna let this win. he was stronger than it. you made him stronger.
“feel around… you’re on the couch, your feet are on the ground. your hand is over my heart. you’re safe, katsuki.” you whisper.
he does as he's told. he feels the soft fabric of the couch under him. his feet and legs firmly planted on the ground, and can feel the warmth of your heart through your chest, and the way it's beating so steadily. he’s safe. he’s home. he’s with you.
you reassure him more, telling him he’s doing so good. and he is, evident by the way his breathing steadies down. after a few more minutes, his eyes blink open. and you couldn’t be happier.
“you back with me, kats?” you softly smile, seeing his red eyes lose their tears.
he sighs, burying his head into your shoulder. “yeah. i’m here.”
he’s embarrassed.
you stroke the back of his neck, letting him rest on you. he’s tired, and he’s scared. you know you have to address what caused this, but for now, you give him this grace of silence.
“do you wanna talk about it?” you whisper.
suddenly, the war turned into something much bigger. it wasn’t a just a battle, it was something that stayed with him for years. somewhere in the haze, he’s scared of betrayal. that soon, everyone will see through him. even he sees right through him.
“i don’t know where to start.” he quietly groans.
you nod, understanding. “just… tell me whats on your mind.”
he swallows again, his mind still fuzzy, trying to figure out what to say. theres just so much that he’s thinking about right now, but he knows he needs to tell you. he can’t keep bottling it all up. so after a few deep breaths, he finally speaks up.
"….i’m exhausted, babe.” he sighs, like he’s confessing to a crime. “everything’s been so goddamn stressful lately. work has been insane, and… i just feel like i can't catch a break. i just… i wish i had more time away from it. to just… i don't know. decompress."
it doesn’t fully articulate everything he’s feeling, but it does give you a good idea of where this is all coming from.
you sigh, stroking his cheek and pointing out the one thing he’s afraid to admit to himself.
“katsuki, you have trauma.” you say. “the war left its marks on you. you can’t just expect it all to go back to normal.”
he feels like he’s down in icy ground. he doesn’t want to admit how much its hurt him- but it has. all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t put him together again.
“…i didn’t think i’d survive this long.” he whisper. and it breaks your heart.
he’s unable to take back those words. it’s true. he didn’t think he would survive the war. he didn’t think he was going to make it out, and that’s exactly what he’d mentally prepared himself for. and now that he’s here, and the war is over…
he’s struggling to cope with that fact. he feels lost, unsure of how to deal with surviving.
“you survived.” you whisper. “you survived but now you’re at war with yourself.”
he nods slowly. that perfectly sums up his feelings. heMs not fighting villains anymore, but that doesn’t stop the war from going on inside of him.
he’s fighting the memories. the nightmares. the constant pressure of being a hero. the constant pressure of living up to everyone’s expectations.
and he’s scared he’ll lose that fight.
“the war took apart of you you’ll never get back.” you whisper. “but… healing isn’t about becoming the person you were before. its about accepting you’ll never fully understand it, and maybe never fully be okay with it.”
katsuki bites down on his bottom lip, your words sinking in his mind. that’s something he’s been struggling to accept for a while now- that he won’t ever just be the person he was before all of this. something about him has changed. permanently.
he nods slowly, your words slowly and gradually beginning to make him feel a little better. it’s so reassuring, having you there with him right now.
“you are a hero, and you are #1. that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to hurt. it happened to you and it hurt you. you’ll never heal if you pretend you weren’t wounded.” you whisper again. “just because you carry it well doesn’t mean its not heavy.”
your words hit him straight in the heart. you’re absolutely right. he’s never really stopped to consider that he doesn’t have to pretend to be strong, or that it’s okay to let those walls come down, even a little. he’s allowed to be vulnerable. he’s allowed to be hurt by what happened to him.
“i… i keep feeling like i’m constantly on that damn battlefield. i keep seeing it every time i’m alone. and i just… i haven’t slept properly in days.”
you nod, understanding.
“you aren’t your worst days. you aren’t what happened to you.” you remind him. honestly, he’s needed that reminder.
he hugs you tighter, like you’re the one thing keeping him afloat right now. he wonders who could possibly stay with him, let alone love him like you do.
“they ripped your heart out of your chest. no one gets to decide how much you bleed.” you tell him. because you see how much he’s trying to force the wound closed, burning himself and only worsening his pain. he hasn’t healed because he’s too scared of the hurt.
“…you really mean that?” he says, red eyes searching for lies.
he finds none, even as you nod and tell him you mean every word.
he isn’t sure what to say anymore. so when words fail, he cups your face and pressed two gentle kisses to your forehead. he survived the war, and now he will always be yours.
“i love you.” he whispers. “so damn much, idiot.”
you smile, his usual asshole-self back on the table. your arms throw around him, hugging him even tighter.
he realizes then that you could, and you will stay.
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