#she's doubts herself and is insecure | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlightwritingf1 · 2 months ago

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Just a Picture | LN4

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ After four days of silence, Y/N was drowning in heartbreak, replaying the fight that started it all—a photo of Lando in a club, looking far too close to another girl. It triggered every insecurity she'd tried to bury, and when she confronted him, things spiraled—accusations, shouting, even a panicked flinch that neither of them could forget. Then he showed up at her apartment, looking just as wrecked as she felt, desperate to explain, desperate not to lose her.

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 10k

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f and m receiving), creampie?, slow sex, lots of 'I love you's

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° author's note ━━━━━━━ I guess this can be part 2 to The One He Couldn't Let Go if you squint a bit.

Based on this request.

It was late afternoon. Y/N was in her apartment, the dark clouds outside mirroring the storm brewing in her thoughts. She paced across the polished hardwood floor, arms folded tightly over her chest, her posture radiating tension. The living area—modern décor, a minimalist gray couch, glass coffee table, and tall bookshelves filled with novels—felt both too big and too small all at once.

Her phone lay face-down on the dining table, silent for the past three days. Not a single call from him since that explosive argument. She glanced at it again, half-hoping it would light up, but it remained still. She bit her lower lip, trying not to let the swirl of angst devour her. The image from that damned photo online had replayed in her head non-stop. Just a random snapshot—but enough to trigger months of tension that had been quietly building between them.

A year ago, when she first met Lando, she had never imagined she could be standing in this place—both physically, in her apartment, and emotionally, consumed by heartbreak so intense that it threatened to break her from the inside. And yet, she remembered how it all started. He had breezed into her life, courtesy of a mutual friend, with that mischievous grin and those unexpectedly soft, bright eyes that seemed to look right through her. At first, she’d tried to keep her distance. He was a playboy, or so all the rumors said. She had read the articles, seen the gossip, heard the stories from random acquaintances who claimed they knew him. She doubted he was the type to stay faithful. She doubted he was the type to take relationships seriously, given all that she’d heard about his partying, about the way he used to message random girls on Instagram. It was the exact opposite of everything she wanted or needed.

Yet he had pursued her relentlessly. Flowers would show up at her apartment every week—delicate bouquets of roses, peonies, lilies. Expensive gifts, random text messages in the middle of the day just to say he was thinking of her. He found out about her favorite authors and sent her limited-edition books. He discovered her love for certain designer bags and surprised her with them, even though she told him a hundred times that she didn’t want him to waste money on her. She had tried to play hard to get; she had shut him down over and over, telling him that she wasn’t convinced, that he’d break her heart. She had tried to remind herself that once upon a time he had been in a relationship, still rumored to be cheating, going to clubs, and partying with random women. All the gossip. All the pictures. She didn’t want that kind of heartbreak. She believed he would revert to his old ways at any moment.

But then, five months ago, she finally gave in. Five months that had begun the strangest, most wonderful, and most complicated relationship she had ever experienced. From that moment, everything between them had been intense, nearly suffocating in its passion, overshadowed by her lingering doubts and his determination to prove her wrong. Every kiss felt like a confession of how badly he wanted her to trust him. Every time he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, she glimpsed in his eyes a silent plea that she believed in him. And slowly, she had begun to let her guard down. She let him in further than she had let anyone before.

That is, until four days ago, when her phone blew up with messages and notifications from mutual friends, from acquaintances who had seen it on social media: a photograph of Lando in a club with an unknown girl pressed very close to him. The angle of the camera made it look suggestive, as if he were leaning down into her ear, or maybe even nuzzling her neck. The girl’s arm was around his shoulders, and it looked like she was whispering intimately to him. The moment Y/N saw it, her stomach dropped. She hadn’t known rage so pure, not since childhood memories that she tried to bury. And in that moment, every single doubt she’d ever had about him came roaring back. She confronted him that night in her apartment, the memory of that confrontation still burned into the walls.

–

Four Nights Ago – The Fight

The moment Lando stepped into her living room, Y/N’s hands were shaking from anger. She had texted him: We need to talk. Now. And he’d come over immediately, wearing an expression of anxiety mixed with confusion. He must have known the rumors were swirling online.

“What the hell is that?” she demanded, pointing her phone at him, screen displaying the offending photograph. She didn’t realize she was almost yelling from the get-go. “Care to explain, Lando?”

He swallowed hard. His cheeks reddened. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or guilt or both. “It’s… nothing,” he said, raising his palms defensively. “That picture—God, I didn’t even know someone snapped that. It’s not what it looks like.”

Her words came out in a hot rush, unfiltered. “Oh, it’s not? Because it looks like you’re cozying up to some random girl at a club—just like the old days, right?” She breathed in sharply, unable to stop the venom streaming out. “I knew it. I always knew you’d go back to your old ways sooner or later.”

He stepped closer, frustration written on his face. “I wasn’t cozying up to her. She was a friend of a friend. I was leaning down to hear what she was saying because the music was too loud. That’s it. It’s a stupid camera angle.”

“Camera angle,” she repeated mockingly. “Right. Always an excuse. You act like I don’t know you have this… this history. Messaging random girls. Sleeping around. Even when you were with someone, the rumors said—”

“Rumors!” he interjected, voice cracking with frustration. “They were just rumors! I told you a hundred times, I never cheated on anyone. If I had a reputation for partying, it was because I was young, going to clubs, sure, but I wasn’t hooking up with every girl who came near me. And I’m sure as hell not hooking up with them now!”

Her face twisted with anger she couldn’t contain. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know how insecure I already feel. You know what I’ve been through, Lando!” Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to cry. “You should’ve been more careful. You should have thought about how that picture would look. How it would make me feel.”

He ran a hand through his curls, agitated. “For God’s sake, Y/N, I can’t control every photo or every rumor. I’m an F1 driver. People take pictures. I’m sorry that it happened, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure. Just like you never did anything wrong all those other times you got plastered with groups of girls, right? God, how am I supposed to believe you, Lando?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. She could see him holding back his own anger. “Because,” he replied in a voice that trembled with repressed fury, “I’ve been bending over backward for months trying to prove to you that I’m not that guy. Do you think I spend all this time showering you with gifts, messages, and time, just so I can go out and hook up with random girls? That’s not me anymore!”

he shook her head, her voice laced with contempt that came from the deepest pit of her insecurities. “We can never know for sure, can we? God, I can’t stand the idea that I let you in, and you do something like this.”

He took another step toward her, eyes flashing. “Don’t put this all on me. You came into this relationship—if we can call it that—assuming the worst about me. I’m always on trial with you, Y/N. You never truly trust me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Well, if you want my trust, then don’t get photographed cuddling with random girls!”

He breathed heavily, exasperation rolling off him. “I told you, it wasn’t cuddling. And I can’t believe you’d think I would cheat on you. After everything we’ve shared.”

For a long moment, they stared at each other, hearts pounding, both of them caught in the throes of powerful, conflicting emotions. Then she lifted her chin, refusing to budge. “Get out,” she said quietly, but her tone was menacing in its finality.

He froze. “Y/N, please. Don’t do this.”

She shook her head. Her vision blurred as tears threatened to spill again. “Get. Out. Now.”

Lando’s expression turned furious and wounded. “Fine,” he spat. “If you won’t even listen to me, what the hell am I supposed to do?” In his frustration, he flung his arm up, wanting to run his hand through his hair, but in that split second, it looked like his hand was coming toward her in a fast, menacing way.

She recoiled instantly, a panicked flinch, arms defensively curling toward her face, eyes wide in fear. A rush of adrenaline spiked through her. It was so fast, so involuntary, as if a primal reflex told her that he was about to hit her.

His entire demeanor changed in an instant. The anger drained from his face, replaced by a haunting sorrow. “Y/N,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You think… you think I would—?”

She just stared at him, still trembling. She hated that her body had interpreted his movement as a threat. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, guilt mixing with the cocktail of fury and heartbreak in her chest. “I— I just… you moved so fast.”

He took a shaky step backward, heartbreak contorting his features. “I would never lay a hand on you,” he said, voice trembling. “How could you even think—?”

She pressed her lips together, her cheeks burning with shame. But the anger was still there, too, overshadowing everything. “Just get out,” she repeated.

He stared at her for a few long seconds, pain written on every line of his face. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel, storming out of the apartment. She heard the door slam behind him. It left her standing alone in the silent living room, her heart pounding loud enough that she thought it might burst through her chest. She sank onto the couch, tears finally spilling.

–

The Four Days of Silence

Now she was on day four without a call, text, or anything from Lando. At first, she’d been so angry she told herself she wouldn’t care if he never reached out again. But after the first 24 hours, the doubts crawled in. Had she overreacted? Was that truly just an innocent picture? She battled with herself over and over, replaying the confrontation in her head, fixating on the moment he raised his arm to push his hair back—how she flinched, how his eyes turned to raw agony.

Guilt ate away at her. Yet the betrayal—and the fear that he was still that same playboy—remained. She wasn’t sure she could handle being with someone who always had rumors swirling around. It was making her question everything.

But she also missed him. Terribly. She missed his laugh, that boyish grin in the morning when he’d wake up next to her, the way he’d wrap his arms around her waist from behind while she was doing something mundane like making coffee. She missed how he would gently brush his fingertips down her cheek while watching TV, how he was always so enthusiastic about introducing her to his friends—well, the few times she’d let herself be around his circle. She missed that warmth and attention, how being with him made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long while.

Late into the nights, she lay awake in her bed, staring at the city lights, tears wet on her cheeks, imagining him in Monaco or at his family’s home, maybe even with that unknown girl. The worst part was that she realized, in her chest, that she truly loved him. A truth she had tried to ignore because acknowledging it made her feel so vulnerable.

She hated herself for flinching, for letting him see that she thought he could physically harm her. She knew enough about him by now to know he wasn’t violent. That flash of panic had come from a dark place in her mind, shaped by her insecurities. She didn’t know if he’d ever forgive her for that. Or if she could ever forgive him for being so careless in that photo.

Day three passed. Then day four. She was pushing through work, eyes rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep, snapping at her coworkers who asked too many questions, trying to bury herself in spreadsheets and emails.

–

The Afternoon of the Fourth Day

She had just gotten back to her apartment after another draining day at the office. She kicked off her heels by the front door, passing the large mirror in the entrance hallway. She lingered a moment, studying her reflection—searching for something she could never quite name. She tried to straighten her shoulders, to seem more composed than she felt, but the familiar ache of doubt had already settled in.

She always worried that Lando, with his flirty ways and well-known preference for a certain type, would eventually look at her and realize she wasn’t enough. It hurt that she cared so deeply about this. She hated that she cared. She wanted to be that fierce girl who didn’t need anyone’s validation. But with him, she felt so out of control sometimes—like all the confidence she’d tried to build kept slipping through her fingers the moment he smiled at someone else.

Letting out a shaky breath, she headed to her bedroom, planning to change into something more comfortable, maybe sweatpants and an oversized tee. She rounded the corner into her living room—and froze.

Lando was there, standing by the window, looking out across the glittering skyline of London. He had his luggage next to him, as if he had come straight from the airport or something. Her heart jumped to her throat. Anger, relief, love, and pain swirled inside her so violently that she couldn’t even speak for a moment.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, eyes meeting hers. She saw the exhaustion on his face, the shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days either. His hair was disheveled, the curls an unruly mess, and he wore a fitted black hoodie and gray joggers. Under normal circumstances, the sight of him might have made her breath catch with desire, but now, there was only tension.

They stared at each other in silence. Her eyes filled with tears again. She loathed that she cried so easily these days. “How did you get in?” she finally managed, her voice cold.

“I still have the key,” he replied quietly. “You didn’t ask for it back.”

She swallowed. Right. She hadn’t. Maybe that was a subconscious sign she wanted him to return. “You can’t just barge in here.”

“I didn’t know how else to see you,” he said, voice trembling with raw honesty. “You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I kept sending messages the first two days, you never replied. I got scared you’d blocked me, or that you never wanted to see me again.”

She scoffed, though hearing he’d tried to call made her guilt spike. She had left her phone on silent, or face-down, ignoring the messages—convinced she had to remain strong. “And so you decided to ambush me at home?”

He clenched his jaw, taking a step forward. “I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, Y/N. It’s been killing me.” He paused, searching her face with a mixture of desperation and anger. “I’m sorry for everything. But you have to understand, that picture—it was nothing. And I hate that you believed otherwise. It feels like you don’t trust me at all.”

“Because you’ve given me reasons to doubt,” she snapped, tears threatening to spill once more. “I’ve seen the rumors, the pictures, the girls you used to be with. I can’t— I don’t know how to handle it. It hurts to even think about. I can’t stand the idea of being compared to those bikini-model types you used to party with.”

His eyes widened. “Compared to them? Y/N, I’ve never once compared you to anyone. I—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know I made mistakes in my past. I slept around. I partied. But that was before. This last year has changed me, especially these five months with you.” He paused, voice trembling, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

Her throat was tight. She exhaled slowly, all the anger and hurt rising again. “Then why did that picture look so—so intimate?”

He rubbed his face. “I was talking to that girl. She was leaning in because the music was loud. I wasn’t even there for long. I’d gone out with some mates, had a few drinks, and left early. I swear to you, I wasn’t flirting or anything close to that.”

She folded her arms protectively, glowering. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

He looked at her with a heartbreak so profound that her stomach twisted. “I wish you would,” he whispered. “Because it’s true.”

She stared at the floor, tension coursing through her. The silence pressed down on them. She recalled the image of his arm moving up four nights ago, the absolute terror she felt, that flicker of fear that he might hurt her physically. She forced her eyes up to his. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, voice catching. “For thinking you’d hit me.”

His face contorted with anguish. “That… that moment,” he said, voice shaking, “I can’t even describe how it felt to see you flinch like that. Like you believed I could do something so horrible.”

She sucked in a breath, her lips quivering. “I just—I don’t know what came over me. It was a reflex. But everything else I meant. I can’t stand the way you have these shady pictures circulating. The rumors. And I hate feeling like I’m one in a long line of random women in your life. It eats me alive.”

His eyes were red, and he seemed to hold himself back from crossing the room to comfort her. “You’re not just another woman,” he said, voice brimming with emotion. “I would never see you that way. I love you, damn it. Don’t you get it? You’re everything to me.”

She swallowed, her heart thumping so loud it filled her ears. “You say that,” she answered raggedly, “but it’s so easy to say. What if you get bored, or you find someone else, or you want someone who wears skimpier clothes—someone who has the perfect body or an easier attitude?”

He scoffed softly, a pained look crossing his face. “Skimpier clothes? You think I care about that? Y/N, I love you for you. You can wear a shapeless potato sack, and I’d still think you’re breathtaking.” He licked his lips, stepping closer, but still leaving a couple feet of space, as if cautious not to invade her bubble if she didn’t want it. “I don’t want any other woman. I want you. I hate that all these rumors, these illusions, keep driving a wedge between us.”

She turned away, crossing to the couch. She rested her palms on the back of it, trying to steady her breathing, trying not to let the tears fall. “I can’t… forget. When I see pictures like that, it’s like a knife to the chest.”

He came up behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. Very gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. “Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I could erase my past. I wish I could protect you from seeing that photo. But I can’t. All I can do is promise you I wasn’t cheating, nor do I ever want to.”

Anger still simmered beneath her skin, but she also felt the longing, the deep ache to reconcile with him. She wanted to lash out, to blame him, but she was so damn tired of fighting herself and him. She turned around slowly, looking up at him. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” she asked hoarsely, tears pooling in her eyes. “Why didn’t you show up earlier?”

He inhaled sharply. “I tried calling. When you didn’t answer, I was worried you’d blocked me or that you needed space. I also needed to cool down. After how we yelled at each other, I— I was afraid you wouldn’t even look at me.” A trembling laugh escaped him. “I didn’t want to drive you further away. But last night, I realized I couldn’t handle another hour without trying to see you. So I packed my bag and flew here this morning.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fresh tears running down. “I hate you,” she whispered, though her tone was heartbreakingly vulnerable, betraying how she felt the exact opposite.

He grimaced, eyes moist. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’ll do anything to make this right.”

For a moment, she couldn’t respond. She just stared at him through the haze of tears. Something inside her cracked wide open—the dam that had been holding in all the emotion. In one swift motion, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. She felt his heart hammering beneath her cheek.

He hesitated only a split second before he crushed her against him, his arms wrapping around her waist so tightly as if he was afraid she’d slip away at any moment. The tears she’d been holding back poured out, and she felt his body shaking too. They stood there, locked in an embrace that trembled with raw anguish.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate that you made me doubt you,” she whispered, voice muffled by his shirt. “And I hate that I’m so insecure. But most of all, I hate that… I can’t let you go.” She let out a choked sob, closing her eyes. “I love you too. And it hurts so bad because I’m scared you’ll destroy me someday.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’d rather die than hurt you,” he said, voice cracking with sincerity. “I’d rather die than lose you.”

The tension and heartbreak in the air shifted palpably, turning into a different kind of electricity. They pulled back just enough to look at each other, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Their faces were inches apart, breath intermingling. Then, wordlessly, as if drawn by a magnetic force, their lips collided in a fierce, desperate kiss.

She tasted salt from her tears as he kissed her, but the urgency in the press of his mouth overwhelmed her senses. Her hands slid up around his neck, fingers tangling in his curls. He held her face between his palms as though she were something delicate—yet the kiss itself was anything but gentle. It was raw, intense, filled with the pent-up longing of four days of agony and an entire relationship’s worth of insecurities.

They broke apart for a brief moment, gasping for air, foreheads touching as they tried to form words. But no words came. Only that frantic hunger to feel close after so many days of pain and confusion. They resumed kissing, deeper this time, tongues and teeth clashing, breath ragged. She moaned softly against his mouth, her body igniting with the need to be consumed by him.

“Bedroom,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak. His eyes were dark with longing, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

She grabbed his hand and led him down the short hallway. The moment they entered her bedroom, the tension redoubled. Even the air felt charged. The blinds were half-drawn, letting in the golden glow of the late-afternoon sun. The duvet on her bed was slightly disheveled, and she had thrown some clothes on it earlier that morning. The entire room smelled like her faint vanilla perfume and the leftover anxiety of the last few days.

She turned to face him, breath quivering. He reached for her face, cupping her cheek. She looked up into his eyes, still rimmed with leftover hurt. She reached for his hoodie, and he helped yank it off, tossing it aside. The next second, he was kissing her again, guiding her toward the bed. He peeled off her blouse, his hands shaking with the intensity of the moment, exposing her skin to the cool air and his heated gaze.

His lips moved down her jaw, her neck, gently nipping at the sensitive flesh there, drawing out soft gasps. Her fingers fumbled with the waistband of his joggers, pulling them down. Every movement was frantic, desperate, as if they both knew that making up like this was both a healing and a reaffirmation of what they meant to each other.

She sank onto the bed, and he followed, settling above her. Their mouths found each other again in a searing kiss, tongues dancing as their bodies pressed together. She could feel his heart beating wildly. She let her hands roam over his torso, savoring the warmth of his skin, the muscle that flexed beneath her palms. He groaned into her mouth, his voice husky with need.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed. He lowered his head to kiss down her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin. “I was going crazy not hearing your voice.”

She arched against him, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by how much she had missed him too. Her nails lightly raked his shoulders. “Don’t ever disappear on me again,” she murmured, breath hitching. “Don’t leave me like that.”

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. The raw emotion in his eyes almost made her dizzy. “Never,” he promised, and he sealed the vow with a slow, deep kiss.

Their hands explored every inch of exposed skin, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies as though it had been years rather than mere days. Slowly, carefully, they stripped away the barriers of clothes. Each article of clothing fell to the floor or was pushed aside on the bed, along with the tensions and fears that had weighed on them. He caressed her curves, pressing gentle kisses to her hip, her waist, then trailing his lips up to her neck. She whimpered softly, allowing herself to be lost in the sensations.

He loomed above her, completely naked, his body trembling with the intensity of the moment. His hands slid down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before he moved up her body again. His lips found hers in a searing kiss, hot and desperate, as if he were trying to make up for every second of the four days they’d spent apart. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his unruly curls, pulling him closer, as though she could fuse them together and never let him go again.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips didn’t stray far. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her temples, each press of his mouth a silent apology, a promise, a plea. His breath was warm against her skin as he trailed kisses down her jawline, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her head fell back against the pillows, her body arching instinctively toward him.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he kissed across her collarbone, his hands moving down to her shoulders to steady her. His lips moved lower, leaving a trail of fire across her chest. He lingered there, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, his breath hitching as if he were savoring her. She could feel his hunger, his desperation, and it mirrored her own. When his mouth finally closed around her nipple, she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He sucked gently at first, teasing her, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud until she was squirming beneath him. Then he sucked harder, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. She could feel the heat pooling low in her stomach, her body responding to him as it always did, as if it were wired to crave him and him alone. His fingers found her other breast, kneading and teasing, and she moaned, her back arching off the bed.

“Lando,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing.

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire, his lips swollen from kissing her. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything that had happened between them hanging in the air. But then he leaned down, capturing her lips in another kiss, and all the tension, all the doubt, melted away, replaced by an all-consuming need.

This time, when he pulled back, his hands moved to her hips, lifting her slightly so he could slide further down the bed. His lips trailed down her stomach, leaving a path of fire in their wake, and she shuddered, her hands clutching at the sheets. He kissed her hips, her thighs, his breath warm against her skin, and then his mouth was on her again, sucking and teasing, his tongue darting out to taste her.

She cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily, and he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. His hands tightened on her hips, holding her still as he continued to worship her with his mouth, his tongue flicking over her sensitive flesh until she was trembling, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice breaking. “Please.”

Lando didn’t lift his head, not yet. His hands tightened on her hips as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to trace the slick, sensitive folds of her pussy. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her, and she whimpered, her thighs trembling on either side of his head. He could taste her, her arousal, her need, and it drove him wild. He loved her like this, so open, so vulnerable, so completely his. His tongue delved deeper, exploring her, savoring her, and she cried out, her hands fisting in the sheets.

“So fucking sweet,” he murmured against her, his breath hot. “I could taste you forever.” His voice was rough, dripping with desire, and it sent a shiver up her spine. He pulled back slightly, his lips closing around her clit, and he sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. She arched off the bed, her moans echoing through the room, and he groaned, the sound muffled against her.

He lifted his head just enough to speak, his lips glistening with her. “You taste like heaven,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “I fucking love your pussy, Y/N. I love how you writhe for me, how you moan for me.” He kissed her again, his tongue slipping inside her, and she gasped, her hips bucking against his face. He held her steady, his hands firm on her hips, as he drank her in, every sound, every taste, every shudder of her body.

He loved this—he lived for this. The way she fell apart for him, the way her breath hitched and her cries grew louder, the way she trembled when he touched her just right. He loved the way she moaned his name, the way she clutched at the sheets, the way she surrendered to him completely. He loved knowing that he could make her feel this good, that he could bring her to the edge and push her over, that he could make her his in every possible way.

His tongue flicked over her clit again, faster this time, more insistent, and her moans turned into desperate cries. “Lando—please—I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice breaking. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue working her relentlessly, and she came with a sharp cry, her body convulsing, her hands clawing at the sheets. He didn’t let up, drinking in every drop of her release, until she was panting, her body limp and trembling.

He finally lifted his head, his lips wet, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice rough. He crawled up her body, his hands framing her face as he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. “I love making you feel good,” he murmured against her mouth. “I love hearing you moan, feeling you shake, watching you fall apart for me.”

She reached for him, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. “You’re incredible,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I love it when you worship me like that, when you make me feel like I’m the only thing that matters.” Her eyes were soft, filled with adoration, and he kissed her again, gently this time, savoring the way she melted into him.

“You are the only thing that matters,” he said, his voice low and earnest. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I love you, Y/N. I love everything about you—your body, your mind, your soul. I love making you feel good, I love hearing you moan, I love watching you come. I love you.”

She smiled, a slow, sweet smile that made his heart ache. “I love you too,” she whispered. She pulled him down, her lips finding his, and they kissed, slow and deep, their bodies pressed together, their hearts beating in sync. For the first time in days, the world felt right again.

He pulled away from her lips reluctantly, his chest heaving, his cock throbbing between them as he hovered above her. “I need to be inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. “I can’t wait anymore.” His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he guided her closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

But she shook her head, her eyes filled with need, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Not yet,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I need you in my mouth first. Please, Lando. Let me taste you.”

He groaned, his head falling back as he fought for control. “Fuck, Y/N—I want to be in you. I’ve been waiting for this for days.”

Her hands slid down his chest, her nails lightly scratching his skin as she moved lower, her fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He hissed at the touch, his hips jerking forward instinctively. “I know,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “But I need this. I need to feel you in my mouth. Let me, please. I’ll make it good for you.”

He looked down at her, his eyes burning with desire and frustration. She was begging him, her voice dripping with need, and he couldn’t deny her. Not when she looked up at him like that—with those pleading eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, his resolve crumbling. “Just—just for a minute. Then I’m inside you.”

She didn’t waste another second. Lando lay back on the bed, his head resting on the pillows, his chest rising and falling rapidly as she positioned herself between his legs. His cock was already leaking precum, the tip glistening, and she could feel him twitch in her hand as she stroked him slowly. She licked her lips, her mouth watering at the sight of him, at the thought of tasting him, of feeling him on her tongue.

Without hesitation, without teasing, she took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around his shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head. He groaned loudly, his hands fisting in the sheets as she sucked him deep, her head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. One hand rested on his inner thigh, her fingers digging into his skin, while the other stroked the base of his cock in time with her movements.

She looked up at him, her eyes locked on his as she sucked him, her lips stretched around his length. The sight of her—her lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes filled with hunger—was almost too much for him. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and she moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him, sending jolts of pleasure racing down his spine.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice rough with arousal. “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this. You love having my cock in your mouth, don’t you? You’re such a good girl for me, Y/N. Such a fucking slut for my dick.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t stop. She loved when he talked dirty to her, when he called her his slut, his good girl. It made her feel wanted, desired, and it only made her suck him harder, her movements becoming more desperate, more eager. Her hand moved from his inner thigh to his balls, her fingers gently massaging them as she continued to suck him, her lips and tongue working him relentlessly.

She could feel him throbbing in her mouth, could taste the saltiness of his precum on her tongue, and it only made her want him more. She loved the way he felt in her mouth, the way he filled her, the way he made her feel so alive, so connected to him. She loved the way he moaned her name, the way his hands tightened in the sheets as he tried to hold himself back. She loved the way he looked at her, his eyes filled with desire, his breath hitching as she sucked him.

For Lando, it was almost too much. The sight of her—her lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes filled with hunger, her hand stroking him, her fingers massaging his balls—was driving him wild. He loved seeing her like this, so turned on, so eager for him. It made him feel powerful, desired, and it made him want to give her everything she begged for. He loved the way she looked at him, her eyes locked on his as she sucked him, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He loved the way she moaned around him, the way her body trembled with need. She was his, and he loved every fucking second of it.

But he couldn’t let himself come—not yet. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her tight, wet pussy around him as he spilled himself deep inside her. He gently pushed her away, his hands trembling as he gripped her shoulders. “Enough,” he said, his voice rough with need. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

She pulled back, her lips swollen, her breathing ragged, her eyes filled with longing. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. “Please. I need you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands moved with purpose, gripping her hips firmly as he manhandled her onto her back again, her body sinking into the mattress. She gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for him as he positioned himself above her, his weight pressing her into the bed. His eyes locked onto hers, intense, brimming with something deeper than desire—something raw, emotional, and unspoken. He hovered for a moment, his breath ragged, his chest heaving, before he shifted, guiding himself toward her entrance.

She felt the tip of him brush against her, hot and insistent, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her. He paused, his hands framing her face as he leaned down, his forehead pressing against hers. She could feel the tremble in his body, the way he was holding himself back, trying to control the primal urge to claim her. His breath mingled with hers, shaky and uneven, as he whispered, “I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

And then, slowly, achingly slow, he entered her. She felt every inch of him as he pushed inside, her body stretching to accommodate him, the sensation both overwhelming and electrifying. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t just the physical sensation that made her head spin—it was the way he looked at her, his eyes never leaving hers, his expression a mix of reverence and desperation. It felt like he wasn’t just entering her body; he was reclaiming her heart, her soul, every piece of her that had been fractured by distance and doubt.

For Lando, the moment was equally intense. The warmth of her body enveloped him, tight and welcoming, and he groaned, his head falling forward as he fought to keep his movements slow, controlled. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps, and it made him ache with a need that went far beyond physical. He wanted to lose himself in her, to drown in the way she felt around him, but more than that, he wanted her to know how much she meant to him. How much he loved her. How he’d do anything to keep her, to protect her, to make her feel cherished.

He stayed inside her, not moving, his body flush against hers, their breaths mingling as they stared into each other’s eyes. The stillness was charged, electric, as if the world had paused just for them. She could feel him twitching inside her, the way his body seemed to throb with the effort of holding back, and it made her ache with a need that was almost unbearable. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her hands clutching at his back. “Please… move. I need you.”

But he shook his head, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to take my time with you. I want to show you how much I love you, Y/N. How much you mean to me.” His words were soft, tender, but there was a fire behind them that made her heart race. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss, his tongue exploring hers as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m yours. Always.” His voice broke on the last word, and she could feel the sincerity in it, the weight of his promise. It was as if he were trying to pour every ounce of his love, his devotion, into that one moment.

She whimpered, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. “I love you,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion. “I missed you so much. Please, Lando… don’t let go.”

He kissed her again, his movements slow and deliberate, his hands roaming her body with a reverence that made her heart ache. He worshiped her with his touch, his lips, his words, as if every inch of her were sacred. His hands slid down her sides, smoothing over her skin, before he cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow, teasing circles. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as her body responded to him instinctively.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he leaned down to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive spot just below her ear. His lips were warm, his breath hot against her skin, and she shivered, her hands tightening in his hair. He took his time, exploring every inch of her with a patience that made her ache.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice pleading, her hands tugging at his hair. “Please… I need you. I need you to move.”

But he shook his head again, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping her firmly as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. “I’m not going to rush this,” he said, his voice steady despite the fire burning in his gaze. “I want to make this last. I want to make you feel how much I love you, Y/N. How much I’ve missed you.”

His words were a balm to her soul, soothing the raw edges of her heart, but they also made her ache with need. She could feel him inside her, hot and thick, twitching with every breath, and it was maddening to have him so close, so still. “Please,” she begged, her voice breaking, her hips lifting slightly in an attempt to get him to move. “Please, Lando… I need you to fuck me. I need you to make me feel good.”

He groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily at her words, but he held himself back, his hands tightening on her hips. “I will,” he promised, his voice rough with desire. “But not yet. I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

She whimpered, her nails digging into his back as she tried to pull him closer, but he stayed still, his eyes locked on hers, his expression filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache. She loved this side of him—the way he could be so soft, so gentle, even in moments of intense passion. It made her feel cherished, adored, and it made her love him even more.

Finally, he began to move, his hips rocking against hers in slow, deliberate thrusts. The sensation was maddening, each movement drawing a soft cry from her lips as she writhed beneath him. He kept his pace slow, his eyes never leaving hers, his hands moving to cup her face as he leaned down to kiss her again. His lips were warm, his tongue exploring hers in a way that made her head spin, and she moaned into his mouth, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

For her, the slow, deliberate movements were both agonizing and intoxicating. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, the sensation building slowly, steadily, until she felt like she might explode. She could feel him inside her, hot and thick, filling her completely, and it made her ache with a need that was almost unbearable. She wanted more—needed more—but he held back, his movements controlled, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

For Lando, the slow pace was equally intense. He could feel her around him, tight and warm, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep from losing himself in her. He wanted to savor this moment, to make it last, to show her how much she meant to him. He wanted to worship her, to make her feel loved, cherished, adored. And he knew that the only way to do that was to take his time, to draw out every second, to make her feel every ounce of his love.

He kissed her again, his lips moving against hers in a slow, deep rhythm that matched the pace of his thrusts. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, his voice trembling with emotion. “I love you so much, Y/N. I’m never letting you go.”

She whimpered, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with a desperation that mirrored his own. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please, Lando… don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept his pace slow, deliberate, his thrusts deep and steady as he continued to worship her with his body, his touch, his words. He kept kissing her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders, his lips lingering on every inch of her skin as if he were trying to memorize her. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he were trying to commit her to memory.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he leaned down to kiss her again. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N. I never will.”

She moaned, her hands clutching at his back as she arched into his touch, her body responding to him instinctively. The slow, steady rhythm of his thrusts was driving her wild, the sensation building slowly, steadily, until she felt like she might explode. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I’m so close.”

He kissed her again, his movements never faltering as he held himself above her, his eyes locked on hers. “Let go, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

And with those words, she shattered, her body convulsing as she clung to him, her cries muffled against his chest. He held her through it, his thrusts never faltering as he continued to drive her over the edge, his own release building steadily until he could no longer hold back. With a low groan, he pressed his face into her neck, his body shaking as he spilled himself inside her, his breath hot against her skin.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies trembling, their breaths mingling as they held onto each other. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, the air thick with the weight of everything they had shared, everything they had overcome.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking down at her with an aching tenderness she had never seen so plainly before. He brushed damp hair off her forehead, trailing a thumb across her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice a low rasp in the hush of the room. “I love you so much. And I’m so sorry for everything.”

She exhaled shakily, caressing the side of his face. “I’m sorry, too,” she murmured. “I got so consumed by anger and jealousy. I should have let you explain calmly. And I… I should never have doubted that you’d raise a hand to me.”

He shook his head, kissing her temple. “You have nothing to apologize for. Your fears come from a real place. I just want to do better for you. I never want you to think I could hurt you.” He swallowed hard. “I’m terrified of losing you.”

She stared up into his eyes, seeing the layers of heartbreak there. “Don’t do anything that makes me doubt you again, Lando. Please,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “I can’t take this kind of fight again.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I promise,” he said. “And if something comes up—pictures, rumors, anything—please talk to me before letting it build up in your head. I’ll tell you everything.”

She nodded, tears threatening once more, but they didn’t spill. “Okay,” she agreed softly.

They settled into a quiet embrace, his arm draped over her waist, her head on his chest. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, each beat reassuring her that he was here and that he wasn’t letting go. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in pink and orange hues that filtered into the room. For a time, neither of them spoke, letting the warmth of each other’s bodies and the lingering afterglow of their fierce coupling do the talking.

Eventually, their breathing evened out, and Lando shifted to lie on his side, propping his head on one hand so he could look at her fully. She blushed slightly, tugging the sheets up to cover herself, though he’d already seen every inch. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her lips felt tender from the rough kisses.

He reached out to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. “Don’t,” she mumbled. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he insisted. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Your body, your face, your heart… it’s all incredible to me.”

“Stop flattering me,” she murmured, but she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. His genuine admiration always made her heart skip a beat.

He gave her a half-smile, though there was still a hint of sadness in his eyes. “We have to talk, you know,” he said softly. “We can’t just… pretend the argument didn’t happen.”

She nodded, the smile fading as she remembered the fiery fight. “I know.”

He took a deep breath, shifting closer so their foreheads nearly touched. “I hate that my past makes you feel insecure. But it’s my past. I can’t change it, no matter how badly I wish I could.” He placed a hand gently on her hip. “I need you to understand that I’m not that guy anymore. Maybe I was reckless before, a little shallow. But I’m not the same person I was a year or two years ago.”

She chewed her lip, eyes drifting to where her hand lay over his on the bed. “I guess a part of me thinks that once a player, always a player,” she admitted. “Like, if you’ve done it once, you’ll do it again. But I know that’s not fair. People can change.”

His fingers squeezed hers lightly. “I don’t want anyone else. I know you might find it hard to believe, but it’s true. I’m not going to ruin this for some random stranger in a club.” He paused, voice growing thick with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I love your fierceness, your shy smiles, your sarcastic quips, how you refuse to let me pay for everything even though I want to spoil you. I love the way you get all excited about a new book or a new recipe you learned. I love your body, every curve, every inch, how it feels like you were made to fit in my arms.”

She drew in a shaky breath, tears gathering again. “Lando…”

He nodded, blinking back his own moisture. “So trust me, please. Talk to me if you feel suspicious. Don’t bottle it up until it explodes. Because I can’t go another four days like this. It was pure hell.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling. “I’m sorry I shut you out,” she whispered, voice trembling. “And I’ll… I’ll try. I don’t want to go through this either. I just need reassurance. Because my insecurities are… they’re crippling sometimes. Seeing that picture brought back every fear I had.”

He cupped her cheek gently. “I get it. And I’ll do my best to reassure you. Always.”

They shared a tender kiss, a silent pact to communicate better, to lean on each other instead of letting the fear linger. After a few more minutes of hushed conversation, she excused herself to use the bathroom, to freshen up.

Stepping into the attached en-suite, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair in wild mess. She splashed cool water on her face, trying to calm the roiling emotions. She felt lighter somehow, as if her chest wasn’t as constricted. He was here, in her home, in her bed, and they’d just poured out so many painful feelings. But they’d also reconnected intimately, forging a new bond in the midst of all the anguish.

Yet a small flicker of doubt still lingered. She wondered if she could truly accept the rumors that might come in the future—pictures of him with fans, random girls in clubs, or women who found him attractive. He was an F1 driver, he was famous, and she couldn’t shield him from the outside world. She swallowed hard, telling herself that if she truly loved him, and if he truly loved her, they would find a way through it.

When she returned, dressed in a fresh tee and shorts, she found him sitting on her bed, having pulled on his boxers. The bedside lamp was on, illuminating the curve of his shoulders, the slight slump as he stared at his phone. He looked up the moment she stepped in.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly, noticing his phone in his hand.

He grimaced. “Max and a couple of the other guys are freaking out because I went off the grid. I told them I needed time to sort this out.”

She nodded, crossing to the bed, settling beside him. “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t apologize for that. They were worried, but now that I told them I’m with you, they’re pretty much leaving me alone.”

She reached for his phone, pressing the lock button so the screen went dark, then set it aside on the nightstand. “You’re here with me now,” she said quietly. “Focus on that.”

He exhaled, nodding. Then his eyes flickered to the faint bruise on her wrist, a small mark she’d gotten from accidentally knocking her hand against a table the day before. She saw him stare with concern. “What’s that?”

She glanced at it. “Oh, that’s nothing. I bumped into something at work. I’m clumsy.”

He lightly brushed his thumb over the bruise, then lifted her hand and kissed the spot gently. The tender gesture made her chest tighten. His gaze moved up to hers, intense. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “for scaring you the other night. I haven’t gotten that out of my head. The way you flinched…”

A wave of guilt crashed over her. “Lando, I said I’m sorry. It’s not you—it’s my own fear. I just reacted.”

“But the fact that you could even think I’d—” He exhaled unsteadily, closing his eyes. “I promise I’ll never move that way again. I’ll be mindful. I don’t want to trigger that reflex or make you think—”

She slid her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “No. Don’t change how you move or exist in the world,” she whispered, voice thick with regret. “It was my own trauma or fear or something. But I know you’d never do that to me, logically. My body just panicked.”

He nodded, holding her close. “Okay,” he said softly. “But if you ever feel scared, tell me. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel safe.”

They stayed like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other on the bed, the soft glow of the lamp creating a cocoon of intimacy. She felt his heartbeat slow as he relaxed in her arms, his breathing growing calmer. She gently stroked the back of his neck, and he exhaled against her shoulder.

Finally, she drew back slightly, looking into his face. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

He shook his head, giving her a wry smile. “No. I came straight here from the airport, then… all this happened.”

She offered a small smile in return. “I’ll order us takeout. Thai or pizza?”

He shrugged. “Anything you like. Though I’m kind of craving noodles.”

She nodded, picking up her phone from the nightstand, scrolling through her food delivery apps. Within minutes, she placed an order for a selection of Thai dishes. Then she set her phone aside again.

Lando let out a soft chuckle. “I can’t believe we went from screaming at each other to ordering noodles. My head’s spinning.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, it’s been a rollercoaster.” Her features turned somber as she looked at him. “Do you regret coming here?”

He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. “Not in the slightest. I want to fix things with you more than anything.”

A gentle silence fell over them, broken only by the hum of the city outside. She cuddled closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Despite the leftover ache, a sense of relief washed over her. He was here. They were together, speaking, touching, and trying to heal.

2K notes · View notes

fear-is-truth · 5 months ago

Text

ft. in-ho (001) ‧ hyun-ju (120) ‧ nam-gyu (124) ‧ su-bong (230) ‧ se-mi (380) ‧ dae-ho (388) ‧ jun-ho

a/n — did these bc i was bored… english is not my first language, sorry if there’s any mistakes !

HWANG IN-HO (황인호) / PLAYER 001

in-ho doesn’t let his jealousy show. not even a twitch of the eye. when he sees someone flirting with you, his expression remains calm—maybe even a little amused. the mask never slips, but there’s something cold and calculating beneath it, like a viper watching from the grass.

he has a habit of always “coincidentally” being nearby. yeah.

in-ho knows exactly how to manipulate without being overt. he never accuses, never demands. instead, he asks harmless little questions like, “you two seem to be getting along well.”

and then, after a small pause—he adds, “be careful who you trust. some people don’t have your best interests at heart.” his tone is casual, but he’s planting seeds of doubt, nudging the situation just enough to make you second-guess. his gaze flickers briefly to gi-hun, like he’s searching his face for confirmation. am i right?

then, as if to break the awkward tension, in-ho lets out a light laugh. “i suppose you can’t completely trust us, either.”

tl;dr — man doesn’t always slip up, but when he does, he backtracks FAST

CHO HYUN-JU (조현주 ) / PLAYER 120

she’s a pretty straightforward and genuine, so her jealousy would come across in a very honest, but an insecure way. when she notices someone flirting with you, she won’t try to hide how she feels, though she also won’t cause a scene in front of them.

instead, she’ll try to naturally slide into the conversation, maybe offering a friendly smile or a casual comment just to insert herself without being too obvious.

afterward, when it’s just the two of you, she’ll admit that she didn’t like how things went. she’d be direct but still unsure, maybe looking away or fiddling with her hair as she confesses, “i don’t know… i didn’t like how they were talking to you. it made me feel… weird. i know it’s silly, but…” even though she’s admitting her feelings, she’ll follow it up with a self-conscious laugh, brushing it off in a way that makes it clear she doesn’t want to burden you, even if she just needed to say it.

NAM-GYU (남규) / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu’s jealousy is ugly. unlike thanos, who masks his irritation with forced camaraderie, nam-gyu doesn’t even try to hide it. the second he catches you talking—laughing—with someone else, his expression sours.

his eyes flick away like he can’t be bothered, but his irritation lingers in the small, compulsive gestures that follow. fingers twitch toward his face, rubbing his temple and dragging down his cheek in a slow, irritated motion as if he’s physically restraining himself from saying nasty. then, he tucks his hair behind his ear, fingers lingering at the ends before dropping back to his side.

tl;dr — just am interesting quirk i noticed lol

but later? when it’s just the two of you? suddenly, he’s different. as if the bitterness never existed in the first place. his hands disappear into the sleeves of his jacket, the fabric bunching at his wrists as he curls his fingers inside like paws. he tilts his head slightly as he leans closer, “y/n~” he drawls, dragging out your name. “why were you talking to them for so long? you’re not getting bored of me, are you?”

and the person who got a little too comfortable in your presence? yeah, they’re screwed.

nam-gyu doesn’t just make their life difficult—he makes it fucking dangerous. during games, he’s reckless with them. a sudden, well-timed shove at the worst possible moment. a convenient distraction that nearly gets them eliminated. nothing that can be traced back to him, of course.

when he passes their bunk, he gives a small shove to the back of their head as he walks by, the kind that makes it look like an accident, but it’s far from it.

CHOI SU-BONG (최수봉) / PLAYER 230

thanos wouldn’t be subtle about his jealousy—he’d be super obnoxious about it.

the moment he catches someone flirting with you, he’s all over them, acting like they’re best friends. throws an arm around their shoulder chummily, “my boy!” he grins, smacking them on the back so hard it nearly knocks the air out of them. his overall demeanour is playful, but there’s something off about it. like he’s sizing them up. like he’s deciding how much of a problem they’re about to become.

later, he and nam-gyu make it their personal mission to make their life even more miserable than it already is.

during mealtime, the person just so happens to trip right in front of everyone. maybe it’s thanos’ foot, maybe it’s nam-gyu’s—either way, they did a face-plant. thanos crouches beside them, fake sympathy dripping from his voice. “damn, that must hurt,” he says, shaking his head. “maybe you should be more careful, yeah? how else are you gonna survive the next game?”

it doesn’t stop there. at the bunks, he and nam-gyu make a point of cornering them, bodies blocking any easy escape. thanos grins, “so, you’re real friendly with y/n, huh?” with nam-gyu smiling cutely menacingly in the background. if they try to shrug it off, he just laughs. “aw, don’t be shy! we love meeting new friends.”

if the poor bloke ends up alone in the men’s bathroom? bad luck. thanos is suddenly right there, leaning against the urinal stall, inspecting his colourful nails. “hey, man. funny thing…” his voice drops, and the humour is gone. “you don’t wanna make yourself a problem, yeah?” he doesn’t have to say it outright. the message is clear.

SE-MI (세미) / PLAYER 380

se-mi’s reaction is barely noticeable. when she sees someone flirting with you, her expression doesn’t change, but her eyes get a little colder, and she might look away, focusing on something else.

she might look at you for just a second too long, as if waiting for you to catch her gaze and understand without saying anything.

she doesn’t hold a grudge, but she definitely keeps her distance until she feels like you’ve figured it out on your own.

KANG DAE-HO (강대호) / PLAYER 388

when he sees someone flirting with you, dae-ho doesn’t get angry—he just feels a creeping sense of inadequacy settle in his chest.

if you try to talk to her after, her responses are polite, but there’s a certain sharpness to them—like she’s not fully engaged. every now and then, she’ll throw in a comment, maybe something about not trusting people easily or how “everyone has their own agenda,” but it’s all under the radar.

being the good-natured person that he is, dae-ho doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t push himself into the conversation. but if there’s a chance to naturally one-up them, he’ll take it. dae-ho’s jealousy is a bit more showy, but not in a malicious way. he straightens his posture a little more. rolls up his sleeve to expose the marine tattoo on his arm.

dae-ho isn’t one to sulk, but he goes quiet. fidgets more, rubbing the back of his neck, cracking his knuckles, anything to keep his hands busy. when he looks at your direction, it’s fleeting—like he’s afraid of seeing something he doesn’t want to.

he never lets it turn into resentment. dae-ho doesn’t want to be that guy, doesn’t want to make it your problem. but later, when it’s just the two of you, he gets a bit clingy.

HWANG JUN-HO (황준호)

a gentleman to his core, jun-ho’s jealousy doesn’t come with flare or outward signs. when he sees someone flirting with you, his smile remains polite, almost cordial. posture stays poised, tone respectful—nothing gives away the annoyance bubbling inside.

if the other person crosses a line—that’s when the temperature drops. a slow blink. a slight tilt of his head. a stare just sharp enough to unsettle. jun-ho doesn’t need words to make his presence known.

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lnracer · 1 month ago

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Hey babe, I have a little request if you’re open to it !!

Could you maybe write something Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader where she’s still in high school and doesn’t come from money at all? Like she feels super out of place in his world — all the hotels, race weekends, the fancy people, and she kind of feels like she’s not “enough.”

But he’s just… soft. Gentle. The kind of guy who makes her feel safe, like she does belong, even when everything feels overwhelming.

I’d love something comforting, maybe with a tiny bit of angst because… identity crisis hits hard sometimes. I just feel like we don’t get enough of that dynamic. Golden boy driver and the girl who still takes the bus to school. No pressure at all! But if it ever inspires you… I will cry. In the best way.

Thank you so much if you do fill my request and of course I understand if you don’t. Have a lovely day!

Pairing: Kimi Antonelli x High Schooler! Female Reader.

Warnings: Mild angst with a happy ending, emotional arguments, self-doubt/insecurity, class difference/social disparity and hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 2.164k.

a/n: Ahh, thank you so much for the request! 🥹 It's really not the kind of dynamic I usually see around here, but I loved writing about it and I hope I was able to capture what you imagined (even the saddest and most complicated parts) I hope you like it! ☺️🩵

Her heels clicked softly against the pristine pavement of the Monte Carlo paddock, the sound nearly swallowed by the hum of engines and a buzz of conversation laced with designer perfume. She tugged at the hem of her floral sundress — a soft, pretty thing she’d found on sale weeks ago — and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to flinch under the eyes that passed over her.

They weren’t cruel. Not exactly. Just curious. Polished. Intrigued.

She knew how she looked next to them — tall women with sleek blowouts, tailored blazers thrown over slinky minidresses, legs that disappeared into Louboutins. Everything about them screamed expensive.

And then there was her. Pretty, sure. But simple. Sweet. A soft pink lip gloss in a sea of sharp red lips.

Kimi noticed. He always noticed.

“Hey,” he said as he reached her side, sunglasses pushing up into his curls. His hand found her waist like it was muscle memory, warm and easy. “You okay?”

She nodded quickly, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just… not really used to all this.” Her voice was quiet, almost swallowed by the luxury around them. “It’s a lot.”

Kimi’s jaw tensed, just slightly. He saw the way her gaze dropped whenever another glamazon strutted by, saw the way she folded inward, like she was trying to shrink herself.

He leaned in, voice low so only she could hear. “You don’t have to be like them. I don’t want you to be like them.”

She looked up at him, surprised.

“I like your dress,” he added, brushing a finger down the strap of her sundress. “I like that you’re here, even when it’s not easy. I know this world is loud. But you make it feel quiet.”

She blinked, heart stuttering at the way he looked at her — like she was calm in the chaos.

And in that moment, even surrounded by gold watches and camera flashes, she started to believe that maybe… she was enough.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

Until she didn't think so.

It was past 6 p.m. by the time they got back to the hotel suite — lavish, towering above the harbor, too many mirrors and far too much silence. Kimi was in the shower, washing away the sweat and stress of qualifying. She was curled on the edge of the bed, phone clutched tight in her hand, screen glowing with a headline that made her stomach twist:

“Kimi Antonelli’s mystery girlfriend spotted in the paddock — pretty, but painfully out of place?”

Her cheeks burned. Her jaw clenched. And the comments were worse — anonymous, faceless words from strangers, dissecting her like she was a novelty.

“Looks like she wandered in from a flower shop in the countryside.”

“She’s cute, I guess, but she looks like a schoolgirl next to those women.”

“Sweet, but not really WAG material, huh?”

She locked the phone and dropped it onto the nightstand like it burned. It wasn’t new — she’d felt the stares. She’d felt the way some of the grid girls looked her up and down. But seeing it written out, confirmed, cemented in black-and-white — that hit different.

When Kimi stepped out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and sweats, towel-drying his curls, he spotted her right away — still, quiet, distant.

“Hey,” he said gently, moving to sit beside her. “You okay?”

She looked at him, eyes glassy. “I saw something.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t answer right away, just reached for her phone, handed it to him. Kimi read the headline, then the comments. His expression hardened. “This is bullshit.”

She gave a soft laugh, bitter and barely there. “Is it?”

He turned to her, eyes sharp. “Yes.”

“You didn’t think that the moment you brought me here? That maybe… maybe I don’t fit?” Her voice cracked. “Kimi, I’m still doing high school homework while you’re out there in an F1 seat. I don’t own a single designer anything. I smiled at Susie Wolff earlier and she looked at me like I was sweetly delusional.”

The air thickened. Kimi stood, pacing for a moment, frustration simmering under his skin. “I’m doing homework too. I’m your age too. Just because there’s money and cameras doesn’t mean I’m not still figuring things out.”

She shook her head. “It’s not the same. You’ve been groomed for this world since you were a kid. I… I still have to ask if we can split dinner when I go out with friends. I don’t come from anything, Kimi.”

He crossed the room in two strides. “I chose you. Out of everyone. And I don’t give a damn if you don’t have a designer bag or if you do homework in my hotel bed — I love that about you.”

She blinked at that. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I want to say it.” His voice was low. “Because it’s true. But if you keep looking at yourself through their eyes — those people who don’t know you — you’ll ruin us before they ever could.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Her eyes were glassy again. “I just… don’t want to hold you back.”

“You don’t.” He stepped closer, hand brushing her jaw, tilting her chin up. “You keep me grounded. Don’t push me away because the world doesn’t make room for girls like you. I’ll make room.”

He was genuinely sincere — he always was — she knew he really meant it, what she wasn't sure about was whether it would be easy in practice.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

Barcelona, Spanish Grand Prix – Saturday Night

The air in the hotel suite was warm, heavy with humidity and tension. She sat on the window bench, knees pulled up, trying not to cry. Again.

Kimi stood near the dresser, pulling off his team hoodie with too much force, like it had personally offended him. “You didn’t even come to the garage today.”

She flinched. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped, turning to her. “You’re avoiding me.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his, voice low. “Because every time we talk lately, we fight.”

Silence. Harsh and sudden.

He ran a hand through his curls, exhaling hard. “So what? You just give up?”

She stood then, too fast. “I didn’t give up. I’ve been trying so hard, Kimi. But it’s like I’m never enough for this world. And now I’m starting to wonder if I’m not enough for you, either.”

His face twisted — hurt and anger flickering in equal measure. “Don’t put that on me.”

“Then what do you want from me?” she said, voice shaking. “To keep pretending I’m okay when the comments get worse, when I feel like your accessory instead of your girlfriend? When I’m expected to smile next to women who have million-dollar contracts and ten-year media training? You have no idea how hard it is to stay in a world that constantly tells you you’re out of place—”

He cut her off, sharp. “You think this is easy for me as well? Balancing racing, press, you—”

“Oh, I’m a burden now?”

He froze. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But you said it.” Her voice broke. “You said it and you meant it.”

Kimi looked down, breathing hard. “I didn’t. I swear.”

But it was too late. The damage had been done.

She stepped back like he’d physically struck her, arms folded across her chest like armor. “Maybe we should take a break.”

His eyes snapped up, wide with disbelief. “No.”

“Kimi—”

“No,” he said again, voice rough. “You don’t get to walk away just because things got hard.”

“I’m not walking away,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I’m just… trying to protect what little of me I have left.”

He stared at her then, quiet, wrecked, and helpless. Like a boy lost in a world that was suddenly too big for both of them.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them knew how.

And in the silence between them, it was suddenly obvious:

They were still in love.

But maybe that wasn’t enough anymore.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

They barely spoke in the car that morning.

He asked if she wanted coffee. She said no.

He reached for her hand. She pulled her sleeve over her fingers.

It wasn’t cold in Spain, but something between them was frozen.

She didn’t make it to the paddock that day. Said she had homework to catch up on. He didn’t argue. He just nodded with a tight smile, then left.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

The post-qualifying press conference was routine until it wasn’t.

A woman with too-white teeth and a smug smile leaned into her mic. She wasn’t with F1 media. Not really.

“Great quali, Kimi,” she purred. “You’ve been quite impressive this season. Seems like you’re adapting quickly to the F1 lifestyle — fast cars, jet-setting, glamorous weekends…”

He nodded once. She continued, voice light but loaded.

“…Just wondering, with all the attention and, let’s say, expectations around young drivers and their image, do you ever feel pressure to — hm — upgrade your personal life to match the brand?”

A few chuckles from the room. Microphones crackled. The other drivers turned to look at him.

He knew what she meant.

She meant her.

He sat up straighter. Calm. Still. But his voice cut like a blade.

“Are you asking if my girlfriend doesn’t fit the aesthetic you expect?”

The woman blinked. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“Because that’s what you just implied.”

“No, I—”

“She’s not the one who needs upgrading,” he said, firm and deliberate. “She's smart. She’s grounded. She reminds me that there's more to life than this bubble. And if that doesn’t match your ‘brand,’ then maybe it’s your idea of success that needs to be rethought.”

Silence. Heavy and uncomfortable.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t offer a wink or a joke to smooth it over.

He just sat there, eyes locked on her like he dared her to speak again.

The moderator quickly moved on, but the damage — or maybe the justice — was done.

Clips went viral before the press conference ended.

And later that night, when she opened Twitter and saw the clip — Kimi Antonelli, eyes sharp, voice unwavering — defending her against the world she feared…

She didn’t call him.

But she showed up, cheeks pink from the cold, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything, just pulled her into his arms like he’d been waiting all week.

“You didn’t have to do that, Kimi,” she said softly. “I didn’t ask you to defend me like that. I never wanted to cause you any trouble…”

He took a deep breath, shaking his head, guilt creeping into his chest. “I didn’t do it for trouble. I did it for you.” His hand brushed her arm, soft but desperate. “You’re not a distraction. You’re not a burden. You’re… you’re everything. You make me feel alive.”

The tears she’d been holding back slipped down her cheeks, and Kimi’s heart twisted in his chest. She looked so small, so vulnerable in this big, overwhelming world she didn’t ask to be a part of.

“I told you once,” he murmured, voice rough. “I don’t care if you don’t fit this world. You fit with me.”

She shook her head, sniffling. “But… I’m not like them. I don’t know how to… how to be the girlfriend you’re supposed to have. I’m just—”

“Stop.” Kimi wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. “You’re everything I need. You’re exactly who I need. And if I have to fight every damn person in this world to keep you — then that’s what I’ll do. I’m not in this for the ‘perfect’ girlfriend. I’m in this for you.”

She collapsed into his chest then, shaking as sobs wracked her body. Kimi held her close, his arms wrapping around her like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t belong. I just… I just wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to think you were alone in this.”

She squeezed him tighter, the tears soaking into his shirt, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel so alone.

“I don’t need anyone but you, Kimi,” she whispered against his chest, voice muffled. “I never did. I was just scared... I was scared I wasn’t enough for you.”

Kimi pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’re more than enough. You’re exactly what I need. Don’t ever doubt that.”

For the first time in weeks, they were both quiet — no more doubts, no more words left unsaid. They simply stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting everything else fade away.

And when she finally looked up at him, her eyes swollen but sincere, Kimi knew:

It didn’t matter if she fit into his world or not.

They fit with each other.

And that was all that ever mattered.

#kimi antonelli #andrea kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x reader #kimi antonelli x y/n #kimi antonelli x you #kimi antonelli x fem!reader #kimi antonelli fanfic #kimi antonelli imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula one fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1blr #formula one imagine

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catssluvr · 2 months ago

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dating nerdy/loser natalie scatorccio <3

⭑.ᐟ Straight up just obsessed with your existence, Nat’s blindly in love with you and would do anything to make you happy - probably loves you tons more than playing video games and that’s a compliment.

⭑.ᐟ Makes you watch all of her favorite movies, not so subtly looking over to catch your reactions to her favorite parts and also yapping about little details that no one else notices.

⭑.ᐟ Takes the gameboy she bought on second hand everywhere with her, pulling out in public whenever she’s on a line or even at school when she’s bored. She plays the games you find most interesting so you’re also entertained.

⭑.ᐟ Drags you to the arcade and makes you play the duo games with her, then plays the other ones while you sit close to her eating some snacks she got from a vending machine.

⭑.ᐟ Tank tops and pajama checkered pants are her go to outfit - not that you could ever complain. Also likes graphic tees with a long sleeved under them and sometimes the infamous leather jacket she wears just for you.

⭑.ᐟ Absolutely tears up whenever you give her flowers or anything of the sort, mostly just overwhelmed with how nice she thinks you are to her.

“Baby, are you crying?”

“What- no! I just had hot cheetos and they were extra spicy.” Meanwhile pouting with trembling lips.

⭑.ᐟ Talking of pouting, it’s probably Nat’s top one reaction to you being mad at her. She’d never make you feel anger towards her on purpose so most of all it makes her panic right there. Tries to solve it as quickly as possible because all she wants is to see your frown dissolve into a sweet smile so she can finally hug your bones out.

⭑.ᐟ Loves to sleep in and will not let go of you until she’s fully ready to get up, nuzzling into your neck and practically whining when you make move to take off the covers.

⭑.ᐟ The biggest cuddle bug and particularly adores being the little spoon. Have her lay her head on your chest while playing with her hair and she’ll be purring like a cat in seconds.

⭑.ᐟ Is an absolute tease who wants your attention 24/7, will pinch your cheeks and arms until you finally look at her.

⭑.ᐟ This girl gets the zoomies randomly, giggling about stupid things and jumping on top of you to tickle your life out and cover your pretty face in wet & very sloppy pecks.

⭑.ᐟ Never having to be scared of her cheating cause realistically she’s a big loser who can barely talk to a girl without stuttering and wears shirts that say ‘i love my gf’ every other day.

⭑.ᐟ Is so freaking clumsy, keeps on hitting her toes on wall corners and breaking cups because she trips on literal air. It’s all worth it for her though because she gets to have you as her personal nurse, putting a band aid over where she’s hurt before placing a kiss over it.

⭑.ᐟ Paints your nails while you tell her about the latest gossip going on, listening attentively and gasping dramatically when she thinks something is particularly shocking.

“He did what!? :0”

⭑.ᐟ Genuinely leaves hickeys on you sometimes without even noticing. She’ll be kissing your neck without any second intentions and before she can stop herself there will be a whole bruise on it.

⭑.ᐟ Has a lego collection with spaceships from star wars and some geeky video games. Gets sooo giddy when you buy her new ones and prepares a whole date night for you to build it with her.

⭑.ᐟ When you’re sitting together in class she draws silly doodles on your notebook, making very bad drawings of both of you holding hands with hearts around you.

“Look, that’s us :)”

⭑.ᐟ Sometimes gets a bit insecure and doesn’t understand what you see in her, it’s hard to believe you actually love her for who she is. But once you call her over when you’re with your friends in public and literally show her off she knows there was never a reason to doubt it.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x self insert #natalie yellowjackets #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio

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livsbuffy · 26 days ago

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the long-term impact of buffy’s relationship with angel on her perception of love and her self-worth deserved to be explored more. the show touches on it a few times, but it didn't get nearly enough focus, considering how formative this first romantic experience was.

from the beginning, their relationship is doomed by the narrative : the soul curse, the slayer vs. vampire dynamic, angel's constant disappearing acts, etc. when angel loses his soul, he immediately expresses hatred for buffy. angelus doesn't feel an ounce of love for the girl. whatever angel felt never transferred to his uninhibited counterpart, angelus.

ANGELUS : She made me feel like a human being. That's not the kind of thing you just forgive. (Innocence, 2x14).

from the age of sixteen, buffy starts associating intimacy (emotional and physical) with punishment and hurt. her love is poison. it's the root of evil (angel losing his soul after their first time) and it hurts the people she loves (giles losing jenny). love becomes laced with guilt.

BUFFY (to Giles) : I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you... for [Jenny]... when I had the chance. (Passion, 2x17)

angel taints buffy's sense of self. he makes her doubt herself. he never stops bringing up her age and immaturity (shocker, high school girl isn't an adult!!!!). it's a recurring theme in their relationship, one the show gives up on for some reason, but it was very much present in the beginning.

ANGEL : You're sixteen years old. I'm two hundred and forty-one. BUFFY: I've done the math. ANGEL : You don't know what you're doing, you don't know what you want... (Reptile Boy, 2x05)

this imbalance is a constant, but both shows gloss it over or try to reverse it. there’s a scene in angel’s spin-off where buffy finds faith with him and asks that she face legal consequences (a reasonable demand for someone who just stole her body). but buffy is painted as the irrational party by the writing. worse, when angel grabs buffy’s arm to stop her from going after a fleeing faith and she fights back, he justifies hitting her, completely disregarding her trauma and focusing on her physicality to distract the viewer from his emotional manipulation.

BUFFY : You hit me. ANGEL : Not to go all schoolyard on you, but you hit me first. In case you've forgotten, you're a little bit stronger than I am. (Sanctuary, 1x19)

the show insists on buffy’s strength, but ignores the emotional and situational imbalance. angel is older, more experienced, and constantly undermines her feelings. the narrative minimizes his mind-games by deflecting. angel twists buffy's need for justice into revenge. he takes her justified pain and shapes it into something vile, gaslighting buffy and invalidating her feelings.

ANGEL : Buffy, this wasn't about you! This was about saving somebody's soul. (...) ANGEL : You came because of Faith. You were looking for vengeance. (Sanctuary, 1x19)

angel plays tricks on buffy's mind during her most formative years. every time he dismisses her pain and struggles, it confirms her insecurities and feeds the voice in her head telling her she's the problem.

there are moments where buffy actively tries to change herself, be someone she's not just to please angel. she tries to lose herself in a performance for the older guy. one notable instance is her halloween costume choice : a woman from angel’s era, prettier from buffy's point of view, a woman that he would have been attracted to back then. ironically, buffy actually does lose herself because the costume is cursed.

BUFFY (to Angel) : I just wanted to be a real girl for once. The kind of fancy girl you liked when you were my age. (Halloween, 2x06)

not only does her love for angel cause tragedy and evil, it also makes her feel small, not worthy, not enough. it touches her self-esteem. this is apparent when angel mocks buffy after their first time, tapping right into her teenage insecurities :

ANGELUS : You got a lot to learn about men, kiddo. Although I guess you proved that last night. BUFFY : What are you saying? ANGELUS : Let's not make an issue out of it, okay? In fact, let's not talk about it at all. It happened. BUFFY : I don't understand. Was it me? Was I not good? (Innocence, 2x14)

he is later painted as the older guy who changed after sex. the show veers off-course in season 3 and completely disregards this aspect of their relationship in order to paint them as a tragic romance instead of sticking with the original subtext : teenage buffy, the "kiddo", being groomed and blaming herself.

BUFFY : Do you remember that guy Angel? JOYCE : Angel, the, um... the college boy who was tutoring you in history? BUFFY : (...) We're sort of dating, were dating. Going through a serious off-again phase right now. JOYCE : Don't tell me. He's changed. He's not the same guy you fell for? (Passion, 2x17)

you can see the impact later with parker. buffy thinks something is wrong with her. her instinct when parker decides that she was just a one-night stand is to put the blame on herself and question her worth, reminiscent of her conversation with angel after their first time :

BUFFY : Parker did I do something wrong? PARKER : Something wrong? No, of course not. It was fun. (...) PARKER : I'm sorry if you missed something. I thought things were pretty clear. BUFFY : I'm sorry if I miss. I'm sorry. PARKER : Look, I really have to go now. BUFFY : Parker wait. I did this all wrong.

angel was the first love that turned evil because of her touch. he was the first love that didn’t stay. so in buffy’s mind, it rings “this is all my fault” alarm bells. she’s not worth staying for. people leaving is her responsibility. it's always the slayer's responsibility.

then she settles for riley despite the lack of love or passion, to regain the normalcy that was shattered by angel. her relationship with riley only happens because of the damage angel caused.

BUFFY : I think [Riley] cares about me but I just feel like something's missing. WILLOW : He's not making you miserable? BUFFY : Exactly. Riley seems so solid. Like he wouldn't cause me heartache. (...) WILLOW : The pain is not a friend. BUFFY : (...) Part of me believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting. I wonder where I get that from. (Something Blue, 4x09)

she stays with him even though she’s clearly not fulfilled (running away to slay vampires in the middle of the night instead of staying with him). but even then, riley leaves. being in a relationship with the slayer hurt him in some way (well, his ego). buffy was caught in yet another relationship where she had to change herself, this time because she was too intimidating for regular human riley.

all the men in buffy’s romantic and sexual life made her feel like she tainted them in some way. they were worse off with her. angel loses his soul. she wasn’t good enough for parker. she was too slayer-y for riley. she voices this insecurity to angel in the series finale :

BUFFY : I always feared there was something wrong with me, you know, because I couldn’t make it work. (Chosen, 7x22)

this all starts with angel and bleeds into every single one of her relationships because he shaped her worldview at such a young age. angel being completely unable to love her without a soul also made it impossible for her to accept spike's love, at first. because if spike could love her, then why couldn't angel?

BUFFY : And the joke is... [Spike] loved me. I mean, in his own sick, soulless way, he really did care for me. But I didn't want to be loved. (Conversations With Dead People, 7x07)

accepting spike's unconditional love for her, with or without a soul, would mean confronting the reality of her relationship with angel. it was a superficial love that never transcended soul, conscience or morality. it wasn't deeply ingrained in the deepest parts of him (angel and angelus). strip angel of his inhibitions and he only has loathing for her. strip spike of his soul, and the love stays. twisted, perverted, selfish, but there. real and strong enough to make him want to be better on his own, no curse needed.

for spike, the humanity he gained from loving buffy was a gift he was grateful for, because he's always longed for humanity and never fully severed the link with it.

SPIKE : I know that I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man. (The Gift, 5x22)

he tries to be better for her, as much as his lack of conscience allows. from the start, buffy planted the seeds of his soul quest. it wasn't a spur of the moment thing. it was a process. when willow's spell backfires in Tabula Rasa (6x08), spike, stripped of his memories, already thinks he has a soul. even then, he instinctively gravitates towards buffy and tries to do good. his bond with buffy doesn't depend on souls or memories.

buffy being better and stronger than him—because of her soul, her true goodness, her slayer power—never scared him or drove him away. it intrigued him. it pushed him to stay. spike keeps coming back to buffy. it's all about buffy.

DRUSILLA : You're all covered with her. I look at you, all I see is the Slayer. (Fool For Love, 5x07)

at first, spike tries to drag buffy down with him, to keep her in the darkness, where he belongs. he isolates her further from her friends after her resurrection. by then, corrupting her is the only way for him to have her.

SPIKE : That's not your world. You belong in the shadows... with me. (Dead Things, 6x13)

but spike ends up having an epiphany thanks to love. the only way is to rise to her level. he's beneath her and he accepts it.

SPIKE : We were never together. Not really. She'd never lower herself that far. (Seeing Red, 6x19)

this is the culmination of years and years of performing goodness to please her, failing, trying again, that lead to one conclusion : he needs the missing piece. it's love that leads him to this. he got his soul back to be her equal. buffy is intricately tied to spike's growing identity. she's part of him. buffy changed him on a fundamental level, in a way that was never seen before. she made him go against his vampire nature.

SPIKE : You know, everything used to be so clear. Slayer. Vampire. Vampire kills Slayer, sucks her dry, picks his teeth with her bones. It's always been that way. I've tasted the life of two Slayers. But with Buffy... It isn't supposed to be this way! (Seeing Red, 6x19)

love has become transformative.

and even after his ensoulment, he still kneels in front of buffy. he voluntarily puts himself beneath her, to profess his love for her just the way she is. spike loves all of her, the failures, the cracks, the shortcomings. he loves her for trying and failing and being imperfectly good.

SPIKE : I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You’re a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy. (Touched, 7x20).

spike elevates buffy on her journey towards loving herself. he tells her what neither of the men who came before him ever did : she is better, she is enough, she doesn't have to change. he honors her.

caring for spike means loving the darkest parts of her. caring for spike means finally accepting that her love can be a power of good, that her relationship with angel doesn't define how she loves. through spike, buffy frees herself of the self-inflicted guilt in her failed relationships.

the last scene is extremely symbolic. spike gives buffy her fire back.

their clasped hands burn. fire symbolizes purification. when spike burns, it's the ultimate step of his redemption. purification of the soul. when buffy's hand burns with his, it signifies the change in how she views love. it's cleansed. it's pure. it's life-changing. it heals. she takes spike's burning hand because she's not scared of love anymore. because she accepts it, fully, in all its beauty and complexity.

angel was the problem. parker was the problem. riley was the problem. there is nothing wrong with her.

spike loved. spike stayed. spike changed. spike burned for her. spike became light because of her.

her love is light.

#spuffy #spuffy meta #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #buffyverse #btvs meta #buffy meta #spike btvs #buffy x spike #btvs s2 #btvs s4 #btvs s5 #btvs s6 #btvs s7 #btvs #angel btvs #spike buffy #buffysource

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fawnedolly · 2 months ago

Note

Toxic!shauna my godddd 🤤🤤i need her to be crazy and obsessive over me

Yes!!!! I love my girls a little toxic… like plss go insane whenni dont answer!

Toxic!shauana who started off the sweetest girl but then her insecurities and doubts start to creep up on her.

Toxic!shauna who genuinely loves you so dearly but the love reshapes itself as your relationship develops.

Toxic!shauna who is constantly checking your location when youre apart. She needs to know where you are 24/7 and when you -to obviously provoke her- turn your location off and she goes absolutely insane..

Blows up your phone, calling & texting.

Why is your location off?

Where tf are you?

Answer your phone

Stop being a bitch

Ur annoying af

Who are you with?

Lmao alr have fun

Ur w another bitch aren’t u?

You text back saying something nonchalant to get on her nerves even more “im out lmao”

Immediately runs out of her house, keys in hand, ready to hung you down. She drives by your house looking to see if your room light is on. She checks all of your friends instagram stories to see if you’re in any of them.

Will gonna far as texting your mom. She obviously wouldn’t sell herself out but she would say something about wanting to “take you out for dinner but you aren’t picking up and she just wanted to check in☺️”

Shauna is D1 rage baiter… she will go park up in front of her ex’s house just bc she knows ur checking her location and wants a reaction out of u and say something like “if u can fuck around, so can i”

Of course you react.

Now you’re the one blowing up her phone and yelling at her and she is LOVINGGG the attention. But obviously it turns into a real fight when end up getting home and she’s already sitting outside of your house. Windows down, music low, just chilling on her phone. It irks you to your core that she’s so calm now.

You step out of Mari’s car and storm over to Shauna’s, yanking the door open, climbing in, slamming it, and immediately yelling in her face.

“Are u deadass? Wtf is wrong with you? “

She stares are you, smug look on her face.

“You tell me” she says after shrugging and it only seems to add more fuel to the fire brewing in you.

“You’re so weird. You know I was with Mari. You knew. Why tf were u outside of her house?!”

“I didn’t know anything and the streets are free for anyone”

Your scoff and shake your head, angry tears starting to form in your eyes. “You’re disgusting “

“You checked my location though.”

“ Of course I did! You weren’t answering! Then I see you parked at her place?”

“So?”

“So you have history with her, Shauna. Are you fucking dumb? You know how that looks.”

“Not my fault you assumed the worst.”

“You’re so fucking weird. Like actually.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You almost (keyword) open the door to leave right then. But you don’t. You sit there, seething, heart pounding. She leans back, arms crossed, totally unbothered knowing you wouldn’t.

#yellowjackets #shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman #shauna shipman smut #shauna sadecki #shauna yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #wlw #lesbian #yellowjackets smut

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layaispunk · 2 months ago

Text

good enough

description: after a tense moment at the dance, Joel spirals into old guilt and doubt — but in the quiet of your shared home, you remind him he doesn’t have to carry it alone.

pairing: jackson!joel miller x fem!reader

warnings: smut 18+ MINORS DNI. unprotected P in V. submissive joel if you squint. no y/n used. established relationship, fluff, insecure joel

wc: 2.4k

a/n: i'm still practicing at writing smut and i thought what better way to practice than with a little bit of old jackson joel ... he's got me feeling some type of way. but i am extremely sensitive and overprotective of him rn because of whats to happen, i jus wanna lock him in a room and protect him

You saw it happen before anyone else did.

The moment Seth raised his voice at Ellie and Dina, you immediately noticed Joel’s body language’s sudden change and his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

The whole hall stilled. Your chest tightened. It hurt, seeing Joel stand there - you could see the hurt behind his eyes as if he’d been slapped. Your body moved before your mind could think and immediately followed him outside.

You found him outside, teary eyed with hunched shoulders like he was carrying a huge load of guilt and shame. Embarassed. Ridiculed.

“Joel,” you said softly.

He exhaled through his nose, low and tired. “She hates me.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to ground him. “She doesn’t. She’s just angry because she wanted to handle it herself.”

He finally looked at you then. “I just wanted to keep her safe,” he said, voice thick. “Always do.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I know, honey.”

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers with his. He let you. “We already talked about this, Joel. I know your first instinct is to attack,” you whispered, reaching for the grey curls on the back of his head, combing through them slowly. “I know how you feel, but you’re not going to fail Ellie too, I promise, Joel.”

Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was grief that never learned how to stay buried. But ever since Sarah, Joel had carried this silent promise within himself - that if he couldn’t save Sarah, he’d spend the rest of his life trying to save someone else’s.

Trying to save Ellie. Even when she didn’t want him to. Even when it cost him.

He didn’t respond. You kept your fingers threaded through his hair for a moment longer, just breathing next to eachother was enough. Then you leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to his temple, and whispered against his skin, “Alright, cowboy. Let’s get you home.”

The weight in his chest had lifted just a little when he left out a soft laugh. Your fingers stayed laced with his as you turned and started walking together, boots crunching lightly over snow-dusted dirt. He stayed close, his hand gripping yours like it was the only thing grounding him and not making him think about the mess he'd left behind.

The walk home was quiet. There was comfort in the silence, in the way your shoulders brushed every so often. In the way he kept glancing at you like he still couldn’t believe you were real. He didn’t quite understand how someone could stay after seeing all his broken pieces.

He sighed a little when the porch light came into view. When you stepped into the house, it was warm from the fire you'd left going. Familiar. Safe. You slipped off your jacket, turning to look at him, but he just stood in the doorway like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now.

“Come on,” you murmured, reaching for him again. “Let’s get you ready for bed, hm?”

He didn’t argue. Just let you lead him to the bathroom to take a nice warm shower and wash the day off.

The steam rose quickly as the water warmed under your hands, making sure the temperature was perfect for him. Warm enough to loosen the knots on his shoulders, but not scorching. You undressed him slowly, letting your fingers linger over each scar, each line that marked his survival.

He undressed you too, hands rough and calloused but soft, brushing down your arms like he was doing sensory grounding exercises you taught him for when he’s feeling anxious.

When you stepped under the water together, he exhaled. You reached for the bottle of floral shampoo he secretely liked - soft lavender, and poured a little into your palm. He closed his eyes when you started working it into his hair, letting himself lean into your touch like he hadn’t let himself do all day.

“Don’t know how you put up with me,” he mumbled, voice thick.

“Easy,” you whispered. “I love you.”

He cracked one eye open, looked at you like he didn’t quite believe it. You smiled and rinsed the shampoo from his hair, then cupped his face in your hands. “You’re always takin’ care of everyone around you, Joel. Let me take care of you for once.”

When you were done, you dried off slowly, wrapping Joel in one of the thick towels you always made sure were clean and folded. He let you fuss over him, didn’t even try to stop you. He just stood there, heavy and quiet, letting your hands do the talking. That alone told you how tired he was.

In bed, he lowered himself on his side with his back turned to you at first — not because he was upset, just.. used to holding things in. Used to thinking he had to process it alone.

But you weren’t going to let him. You never did. You slipped in behind him, resting your chest against his back, one arm curling around his waist. And after a few minutes, he turned toward you. Slow, hesitant. Your hands immediately found his hair once again, running your fingers through it gently, still a bit damp and smelling like lavender. He closed his eyes, jaw finally resting. “I’m proud of you, Joel,” you whispered. “You did what you thought was right. You always do.”

His hand found yours beneath the sheets. Gave it a squeeze. He’d gone quiet again, always noticing the smallest changes in his body language when he has something going on in his head. You gently nudged his chin up so he’d look at you.

“What’s wrong?”

He hesitated. “Jus’ thinkin’.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheek. “Wanna talk about it?”

Joel looked at you for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose, eyes dropping to the space between you.

“I don’t feel like I’m good enough for you. And for Ellie.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said, voice rough. “Ellie’s growin’ up. Don’t want me stickin’ my nose in her business anymore. It’s not even about that, it jus’ feels so sudden, y’know? And you…” He trailed off, brow furrowing. “You’re still young. Strong. Capable. Still got so much life in ya. There’s things I can’t… do, anymore. Not like I used to.”

You quickly realized he was referring to the intimate moments you shared together. Sometimes, when his shoulder starts to hurt, he can’t last a long time on top of you. You absolutely adored being on top and taking control, but he thought he was just being a burden. There were times where he couldn’t keep his dick hard, or couldn’t orgasm at all. You didn’t think anything of it. Not at all. As long as he was comfortable and safe, that was all that mattered to you. But that’s not what his mind was telling him.

He glanced at you then. “And I know it ain’t all about that. But it matters. And I just—” His voice cracked. “—just want to be good enough for you.”

You let the silence hold for a second before you touched his face again, guiding him gently to meet your eyes.

“Joel,” you said softly, “you are more than enough. There’s not a damn thing about you that makes you less of a man. Not to me. Not to Ellie.”

Joel’s eyes dropped to where your hands rested against his chest. His voice was quieter this time. Barely there. “I don’t even know how you still want to be with me.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?” He shook his head slowly. “We were different ten years ago. My back hurts. I’m slow. My knees ache, I got lines on my face I don’t even recognize. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I barely see myself anymore.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going. “I look at you,” he said, eyes flicking up to yours, “And you’re still so... full of life. Still got that light in you. And I feel like I’m lettin’ you waste it on an old man you gotta take care of.”

Your heart cracked. You knew he had some issues with his self-esteem recently, but you didn’t expect he’d open up to you this way. You reached up and cupped his face again, your thumb brushing the scar on his right temple.

“You’re still my Joel,” you whispered. “You always will be.”

He tried to shake his head and look away, but you didn’t let him. You leaned in, close enough that your forehead touched his, your voice gentle but sure.

“When I say I love you, I mean I love all of you. I love massaging your back, I love crushing up your medication. I love every wrinkle, every scar, every gray hair. You think that time made you less, but it’s only made me love you more, Joel.”

He let out a shaky breath, trembling through his chest. You smiled softly, brushing your fingers through his hair again.

With your voice low and warm, you added, “There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t look at you and feel it. I still want you. All the damn time.” He smiled.

You wanted nothing more than to please him and show him just how much you wanted him, despite what he thought. You tilted your head. “Move back, cowboy.”

Joel raised a brow. “What’re you—?”

But you were already climbing on top of him, straddling him like it was the most natural thing in the world - because it was.

“I like it here,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Feels good.”

Joel’s hands found your hips automatically, like a reflex. His shoulders relaxed beneath your touch, and his eyes fluttered shut when your fingers threaded gently through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You rested your forehead against his, noses brushing, and began to softly grind on him — slow, soft motions, making sure he wanted this just as much as you do. Just enough to remind him that yes, you loved being on top.

His grip on your hips tightened slightly, like he needed that contact to hold himself together.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. Your hands slid down from his shoulders to his chest, fingers tracing the buttons of his pijama slowly. You undid them one by one, not looking away from his eyes when they finally opened again. He watched you like he was afraid the moment might vanish if he blinked.

You could feel the way his breath hitched just slightly. “You don’t have to do anything,” you whispered against his skin. “Just let me love you.”

When his shirt was open, you let your hands rest over his heart for a second, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your palms. Then, still straddling him, you reached down to the waistband of his briefs, asking for permission with your eyes. You helped him shift enough to slide them down his hips, leaving him with nothing on, the rest of his body warm and solid beneath yours. Then your hands reached for the hem of your own shirt, pulling it off over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving you with nothing but your now soaked panties, and still rocking your hips back and forth, grinding on his length.

Joel’s hand came up to touch the scar on your chest, grazing it with his thumb with featherlight care. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to it — slow, lingering — his beard scratching gently against your skin, his lips soft with admiration, which sent a pulse of heat between your legs. He continued to press light kisses all over your chest, softly grazing your nipples. You opened your mouth slightly and let out a soft moan to let him know he was doing good. You were trying to get his self-esteem back. The thought of him being insecure was eating you from the inside.

His breathing had grown shallow and uneven, each exhale a silent confession, “Can I touch you a lil’ bit?” he begged as he reached for your white cotton panties, waiting for your consent to pull them to the side. You nodded, leaning down to kiss his neck, “Yes, baby.”

Your pleasure was his pleasure — and ever since you’d teasingly confessed how much you loved the way he touched you with his fingers, it had driven him wild.

You were moaning softly against his neck as his soft fingers were rubbing small circles on your clit. He adored the way your body reacted to him. “Jesus christ, darlin’,” he rasped, “Look’t you, so beautiful.”

The words hit you, feeling like electricity in your belly. Without hesitation, you lowered yourself onto him with practiced ease, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His eyes were shut, “so warm,” he muttered, as you kept the pace gentle, sensually kissing him from his chest all the way to his forehead.

His breathing was uneven, moaning softly as you rocked on top of him. His hands were gripping your waist and he was whimpering beneath you. His hips lifted beneath you, jerking forwards to match your pace and fuck into you.

“Jus’ like that, Joel. Fuck,” you moaned, your voice coming out hoarse as your fingers gripped the curls on the back of his head. Your hips moved in a steady rhythm, breath hitching as you moved your hips and sunk deeper into him, the air turning warm and heavy. His eyes were shut, mouth slightly open. You loved seeing him fall apart like this.

Your head tilted forward, touching his forehead, “i’m so close, Joel,” you gasped, as he was moaning softly beneath you. He continued to rub slow circles on your clit, knowing you don’t always climax when it’s just penetration. So sweet, and so considerate.

You lost your steady pace, hips now moving with a desperation you couldn’t control, and your orgasm hit you like shockwaves. Your release came at the same time, bodies trembling in perfect synchronization. You collapsed against him, both of your breathing erratic as you tried to catch up with gasps as the waves of pleasure slowly faded.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady thump of his heart still fast paced. His arms wrapped around you tightly, protectively, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go of you yet.

You sighed against his skin, one of those quiet, contented sounds that only came after being seen, touched, loved in full.

You pressed a kiss to the crown of Joel’s head. “I’m right here,” you mumbled, voice low and gravelly with sleep. “M’not goin’ anywhere, alright?”

ty for reading! check out my masterlist!

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #dbf!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #tlou hbo #tlou game #tlou fanfic #tlou joel

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rafecameronsleftbicep · 8 months ago

Text

want more, rafe cameron

When reader and Rafe have been sneaking around with each other for the last two months, y/n can't help but want more. Bringing this up with him, she's under the impression he's embarrassed to be seen with a pogue.

warnings: swearing, insecurities, arguing, mentions of sex, angst, always a sucker for a happy ending though, it's a looong one <33

pairing: rafe cameron x fwbpogue!reader

Y/n was sat on the little bench outside her small home, right by the water as the wind blew through her hair. Her knees were tucked up to her chin as the kook boy who usually plagued her thoughts did just that, sink into her mind.

It was never meant to be more than a good time, something to pass the summer. He made her feel good - in more ways than one - he would take her out on dates, whisper sweet words to her, and the way he looked at her. She could swear he was in love, that he was just as infatuated with her as she was him. But the way he only took her to private and secluded places, the way his words were the most affectionate when he was deep inside her, the way he would put space between them whenever he saw someone he recognised. These small things, things he may not even realise he does, they all reminded her that she wasn't anything to him. He would never let himself fully be hers, he could never let his reputation fall like that.

He gave her just enough that she felt completely and utterly consumed by him. Craved his attention, his touch, even a small message would complete her day. However, as time went on she knew she needed more, she knew that she couldn't bear much more before she completely lost herself to please him.

"Come over" The message catches her attention, the illuminated screen laying on the bench beside her pulling her from her wandering thoughts.

She knew the message was from Rafe before her eyes even flicked to the screen, she never really had anyone else calling on her. It wasn't that she didn't have any friends, but she wasn't one to go out and the friends she kept knew that.

A couple weeks ago, she would've been on her way to his before she could even start replying, no thought needed except the thought of being in his proximity. Now, however, she was tired. Tired and sad, feeling pathetic really after spending so long thinking about him.

"feeling tired tonight. sorry, rafe" She replies slowly, her heart pounding as she sends it. She turns her phone back off, yet before she can place her phone back down her screen lights up with another message from him.

"Please, baby. I need you" He responds, her heart sinks. She doesn't know how much more she can stand up for herself, fighting that craving feeling she has for him.

"not in the mood rn tbh" She tries to stay strong, holding onto that tiny bit of dignity she has left in her.

"Don't even need to fuck"

"Just wanna be close to you"

Her heart pounds faster and her breathing is shaky. Fingers hovering over her illuminated screen. Every possible message she could write spinning though her head.

"you can come over then" She types out, deletes and types out again. She had never been so unsure in herself before, never doubted her own thoughts like this. But she sends it, stopping herself from contemplating and worrying further.

Rafe had been to her place a couple of times before, only ever to pick her up. Each visit shorter than the last, hurrying to leave as if humiliated to be caught in such a place. It made her feel ashamed of who she was, how she grew up and she felt even more embarrassed that she let a guy make her feel so insecure about something that could never change, something that literally made her who she was.

"Coming" The phone lights up for a last time in her hands and when her eyes run over the message she is filled with surprise and even more shame as her heart warms for him. She knows that him visiting her is the bare minimum. That being able to step foot in the place she calls home should not be seen as a difficult task. But she feels happy that he's coming to see her because he wants to.

She sits with her pathetic thoughts as she waits for him. Curling up on the bench as she watches the way the pearly moonlight glimmers across the waves perfectly. The soft wind sending chills down her spine and strands of her hair across her face.

"Y/n?" She hears his voice call out and for a moment she feels like she's lost hers. "Baby?"

"Yeah, around here" She replies softly as she sees him bend round the corner of her home. She has a tiny smile on her face, never fully reaching her eyes.

"Something wrong, pretty girl?" He mutters softly as he moves to sit next to her on the bench. He's dressed in sweats and she can only assume he's been relaxing at home prior to coming over. He gently takes her bare legs and slides them onto his lap. He can't help but let his eyes rake over her perfect body. The way she looks so small in his shirt he must've let her borrow once and some pyjama shorts. Yet for the first time, he puts aside his vulgar thoughts because he can tell she's unhappy.

Her eyes look into his, the way he's cracked open her feelings so easily, reading her like a book despite keeping a wall up of his own. Her breath shaky again as she gives a small shrug, her eyes dropping down to his hands. The way his thumb gently runs back and forth over her knee.

"Talk to me" He says softly, the crease between his brows deepening as he loses her gaze.

"Do you even care?" She voices gently. Not looking at him, to maintain the little power she has left over herself.

"What?" He mumbles with confusion, his body straightening up as he didn't expect such blunt thoughts from her.

"Do you even care that I'm upset? Or what I'm upset about?" She mumbles a bit louder as her gaze moves back over to the glistening waves ahead of them.

"O-of course I do, I don't understand?" He mutters as his thumb stops the stroking and instead slides to her chin, moving her face to look at him.

"I mean we aren't dating, and it feels like you've never really cared about how I feel outside the sex." She tells him for the first time. The tension feels suffocating, yet at the same time the weight off her shoulders is so liberating.

"That's what you think?" He asks her, a strong tone of annoyance or maybe disappointment.

The eye contact between them so intense that she feels as though she needs to take a deep breath before replying or she might pass out. "That's exactly how it feels." She admits gently with a shrug.

"That's not what this is." He says firmly, shaking his head as his hand slips off her chin and runs down his face with a huff.

"You're embarrassed to be seen with me. Face it, Rafe. It's not like we're dating. You only keep me around for a good fuck." She says shakily, running off adrenaline and the fact that there's no use stopping now that she's started.

"You don't embarrass me, I'm just not ready to make things official." He tells her unwaveringly, yet his eyes darting towards the water, the ground, her. Everything about his body and words make him seem so secure in himself. Yet his eyes express all his true emotions, how hesitant and insecure he really feels.

"God, Rafe. You can barely be seen with me, and I can't bear to be just some girl you fuck and take out secretly." She tells him, her throat feeling scratchy and sore as her eyes water lightly. She curses herself for getting so emotional, it wasn't even that serious yet she couldn't keep herself together.

His heart breaks, pained as she expresses her feelings to him, pained as he watches her fall apart in front of him. "I'm sorry for making you feel that way." He mutters gently.

"Don't be. You never promised me anything more than what you've given me." She shakes her head gently, as her eyes look at the side of his face.

"I want to give you more, I want to promise you the world." He whispers with his head in his hands.

"I can't continue feeling like this, Rafe." She tells him softly, "I can't handle craving you privately."

"I didn't know you felt like this..." He replies shamefully, his hands sliding down his face as he turns to look at her with torment. His eyes are glossy and his jaw is clenched, he doesn't know what there is to say to make this better.

"Don't bullshit." She mumble with a soft frown, not believing for a second that he didn't know she was completely infatuated with him.

"No, y/n. I mean it. I've... I feel for you. And I don't know how to handle it, express it. Fuck. I'm a mess, baby." He spills to her helplessly. "If I knew how I was hurting you, I would've done something, said something. I just- it's so difficult for me." His voice rasps and cracks unsteadily.

She doesn't know what to say, heart pounding as she watches his sincerity. She fiddles with her fingers anxiously as she tries to think of anything to reply with.

"Please believe me, pretty girl" He practically whimpers, his hands itching to feel her near him.

"What are we gonna do?" She whispers as she looks down at her hands. "Something needs to change... I can't go on like this" She tells him.

"I wanna make you mine." He tells her, giving in to his desperation to be close to her as his hand moves to rest on her anxiously fidgeting fingers.

"What's holding you back?" She mumbles as her eyes remain glued to their hands, fluttering closed for a moment as she soaks in the warmth of his hand.

"I-I don't know. I just, I feel so stupid because I want to give you the world but I'm the one stopping myself from giving it to you." He opens up quietly, his eyes boring into the side of her face. "But I know I need you, for more than just your body. I need you in every way I can have you." He whispers to her, gently pulling her closer so that his lips brush the shell of her ear. His closeness, warmth and the way his breath tickles her ear shoots a shiver down her spine.

"Please let me have you."

(a/n: i had to end it there or i would keep writing all night, i hope you all enjoyed!!)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #obx #obx season 4 #rafe obx #rafe x reader #pogue reader #rafe x fwb!reader

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cherrylibby · 3 months ago

Text

Jealousy at Mach Speed

Jake Seresin had a reputation.

It wasn’t exactly unearned—the cocky smirk, the smooth Southern drawl, the way he could charm just about anyone within five minutes of meeting them. It was part of who he was.

And usually, you were fine with it. You knew that, despite the way women threw themselves at him, Jake was yours.

But tonight? Tonight, that logic was a little harder to believe.

Because as you stood at The Hard Deck, watching some girl drape herself over him, laughing a little too hard at something he said, you felt a sharp sting of insecurity settle in your chest.

Jake didn’t push her away. He didn’t tell her to back off. He just stood there, smiling, sipping his drink like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And suddenly, all the old doubts—the ones you thought you had buried—came rushing back.

Maybe you weren’t enough for him.

Maybe he’d realize that soon.

Maybe he already had.

You didn’t say anything right away.

You just grabbed your drink and made your way to the other side of the bar, setting up camp next to Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, who immediately raised an eyebrow at your sudden mood shift.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Nothing,” you said, too quickly.

Bradley snorted. “Uh-huh. And I’m about to win Pilot of the Year.”

You didn’t respond. Just took a long sip of your drink, staring at the wall.

Rooster followed your gaze across the bar—right to Jake, who was still talking to that girl. Understanding dawned on his face.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “you know Jake isn’t interested in her.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know anything.”

He groaned. “Okay, no. We’re not doing this.” He stood up. “I’m getting him.”

“No—Bradshaw I swear—”

Too late.

Jake turned the second Rooster called his name, eyes instantly locking onto you. His face shifted, brows furrowing as he excused himself from the conversation and made a beeline for you.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice low as he reached you. “Everything okay?”

You plastered on your best fake smile. “Peachy.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Try again.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I don’t know, Jake. Maybe you should go ask her.”

Jake blinked. “Wait, what?”

You gestured toward the blonde at the bar. “She seemed really interested in whatever you were saying.”

Realization hit him like a brick wall. His eyes widened slightly before his expression softened.

“Oh,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Sweetheart…”

You shook your head, looking away. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

Jake didn’t let that slide. Instead, he gently tilted your chin up, making you look at him. “It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

You sighed. “I just… I don’t know. I saw you with her, and I just started thinking… why me? You could have anyone.”

Jake’s eyes darkened—not with anger, but something deeper.

“Y/N,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t want just anyone. I want you.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve crack. “Yeah, but for how long?”

Jake exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, forever isn’t long enough when it comes to you.”

Your heart stuttered.

Jake cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You think I don’t notice every little thing about you? The way you scrunch your nose when you’re trying not to laugh. The way you pretend to be annoyed when I flirt, but I see that little smile.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “The way I feel like I’m home whenever I’m with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Jake…”

“I don’t care about any other girl. Never have. Never will.” He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “I’m yours, Y/N. Only yours.”

Tears pricked at your eyes—tears you hated because damn it, you were not a crier.

Jake noticed, of course. He kissed the corner of your eye, then your cheek, then finally—finally—your lips.

It was slow, deep, filled with every unspoken word between you.

When he pulled away, he smiled softly. “You believe me now?”

You let out a watery laugh. “I think so.”

Jake chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the storm passed—leaving nothing but love in its wake.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun hangman

646 notes · View notes

trashytracktales · 5 months ago

Note

Okay i don’t know if you’re still receiving requests so 😭 but i absolutely ADORED inked and it actually inspired me for a request and you’re literally the only one who could give it justice. hopefully😔

so imagine reader not being able to cum for the past few times they had sex, maybe because she was stressed for work/exams/adult life and she hasn’t told lando because she feels bad for it and she doesn’t think it’s his fault. so when he finds out there’s a lil discussion and he PROMISE he SWEARS he will make it his mission on earth to help her to get out of her head and relax and enjoy herself and what they’re doing and he’s like WHATEVER IT TAKES you will orgasm again i promise, even if it takes all night!!

so he’s a man on a mission and when he succeeds they have their best sex ever and she’s having the best orgasm of her life! fireworks !!!!! 🥹🥹

The finish line | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── So… ✌🏻😗 I usually go with the flow when I’m writing, and for this one, it felt right to leave it at THAT (you’ll see). Don’t worry, there are fireworks and Lando achieved his goal. However, I felt it in my bones to keep this one leaning more on the emotional side, because sometimes, less is more. Enjoy!!

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⤿ PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOTS: Inked, Winning hand, Seasons change.

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. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── While Lando is sound asleep after a passionate night together, she wakes up restless and frustrated, unable to ignore the weight of her own insecurities.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── explicit

. ݁₊ ⊹ category ──── F/M

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, mentions of sexual frustration and insecurity, emotional vulnerability such as crying and self-doubt, masturbation, obsessive behavior, fingering, swearing, use of praise and mild dominance, begging & desperation, overstimulation.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 4.5k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Jan. 29, 2025

. ݁₊ ⊹ a/n ──── I know I sound like a broken record, but I don’t want you guys to think that I’m lying. THIS is the current state of my inbox:

Just know that I am trying, but at the end of the day, I’m literally just a girl 🎀 If I didn’t post your request yet, thank you for your patience, I’ll eventually (hopefully) get to it.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE BEDSHEETS ARE rumpled, and there is a faint scent of sweat and sex that lingers in the air. Lando sleeps peacefully on his stomach, his arm draped lazily over her waist. His soft snores are the only sound that animate the room, but inside her head, her thoughts are louder.

It’s late, and she should be exhausted; well, she is, but mostly on a mental level. Her body feels heavy and restless, the glow of their earlier intimacy only temporarily satisfying a more deeper need that refuses to fade, no matter what she does. Her skin feels hot, especially where he touches her, and her mind races with thoughts she can’t control.

At this point, it’s been too long.

She shifts in different positions, and when it gets too much, quietly, she slips out of the bed, careful not to wake Lando, and pads her way to the bathroom. The cool tiles under her feet send a shiver down her spine as she closes the door behind her with a mellow click.

She splashes cold water on her face, hoping that she’ll wash away every little doubt that way. The shock of it is prickling her skin, but it does little to cool the constant heat simmering beneath the surface. Involuntarily, her thighs press together in a failed attempt to soothe the ache that refuses to dissipate.

Small droplets of water slide down her cheeks as she raises her head, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips are parted, her breathing uneven, and her eyes betray the storm churning inside her. It’s become an obsessive ritual, one she can’t seem to give up until she gets all the answers. The shame coils tight in her stomach, a mix of desperation and anger at herself.

Why couldn’t she just let it go?

Why couldn’t she figure out what was wrong?

Her reflection doesn’t offer any of those answers — only a silent, maddening reminder of how close she always gets before it slips away, like sand through her fingers.

She lets out a frustrated exhale, while grabbing a towel from the rack with trembling hands, shaking it out before folding it in half and laying it on the floor. Carefully, she lowers herself onto it, her back pressing against the cold porcelain of the bathtub. The chill bites at her skin, but it keeps her guarded. She pulls her knees up slightly, legs spreading just enough to give her the space she needs, the vulnerability of the position making her heart race. Her fingers tremble as they trace the edge of the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, closing her eyes to gather the remaining pieces of her patience.

The bathroom is tenderly lit by a single lamp above the mirror, casting a silver glow on her flushed face and the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin.

Weakly, she starts circling her fingers with increasing desperation, her slick heat betraying the arousal that never seems to reach its peak. Her breaths grow shallow, her movements frantic, but no matter how hard she tries, the pleasure stalls, hovering just out of reach. Irritation claws at her chest as her thighs tremble, the pressure building only to evaporate moments later, like a cruel joke.

Tears blur her vision as she slows, finally giving up, her head falling back. A sob escapes her lips, her mind spiraling into dark thoughts, and she pulls the towel tighter around her as if it can shield her from her own failure.

Back in their the bedroom, Lando stirs. His hand instinctively reaches out to her side of the bed, but the cool, empty sheets pull him out of his catatonic state. Half-asleep, his head lifts as he scans the room, his hair mussed and eyes hazy; it’s the faint, muffled sound that wakes him up completely. A muted cry, that he’s easily able to recognize.

His heart lurches, and he’s on his feet instantly, tugging on a pair of boxers. He follows the sound to the bathroom door, pressing his ear to it. The cries are clearer now, but they’re not purely sad — they’re mixed with hushed panting.

His brows knit together, and without thinking, Lando knocks. “Everything okay, love?” his voice is thick with sleep and worry.

She doesn’t answer.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Lando insists, tightening his grip on the doorknob.

Inside, she’s too caught up in her own world to hear anything else. Her hands finally drop to her sides as she lets out another defeated sob, the tears spilling freely on her cheeks. She feels raw and vulnerable, unable to understand why her body is betraying her like this.

Sounding more concerned now, Lando knocks harder this time. “Babe, I’m coming in, alright?”

The door creaks as he steps inside, and the sight before him makes him stop in his tracks. She’s sitting there, legs spread, flushed and teary-eyed, her chest rising and falling in erratic breaths. His mind takes a second to catch up to what’s happening, his gaze flickering from her damp cheeks to the towel beneath her and then finally to the source of her breakdown.

Her eyes widen when she realizes she’s not alone anymore, and she quickly moves to close her legs, her face burning with embarrassment.

“Lando—” she begins, but her voice dies in her throat.

He’s frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but then he steps closer, crouching down in front of her. His hands reach for hers, gently prying them away from where she’s trying to cover herself.

“Don’t do that,” says Lando in a tender voice. “What’s going on, babe? Talk to me.”

She looks away, the shame too much to bear. “I don’t know,” she stammers, her voice a small whisper. “I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” he prompts gently, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

She lets out a shaky exhale, avoiding his gaze. “I’ve been trying so hard, but I just—I can’t finish,” she admits finally, her voice breaking.

Lando’s expression softens, and he cups her face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, his voice low but laced with concern.

She laughs dryly, “And say what? It’s fine, Lando. I didn’t want to bother you,” she replies, sniffling. “You were sleeping so peacefully, and I thought I could just handle it myself.”

His lips quirk into a tiny, understanding smile. “Baby, you’re never a bother to me,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “You know that, right?”

She nods weakly, her lips trembling as fresh tears threaten to spill. Lando doesn’t hesitate, sitting down beside her on the bathroom floor, the cool tiles pressing against his bare legs.

His hand moves tentatively to her knee, but he stops just short, his eyes searching hers. “Can I touch you?” he asks patiently.

Her nod is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough for him. He places his hand on her knee, his thumb tracing soothing circles over her skin. He’s quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach the situation, but his concern outweighs his uncertainty.

“Come on, baby. It’s just us,” he says, his tone earnest. “What’s really been bothering you?”

She hesitates, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her — his — old t-shirt. The weight of the truth feels too heavy, but his steady presence makes it easier to breathe.

Finally, she exhales shakily and confesses, “I… I haven’t had an orgasm in three weeks.”

Her words hang in the air, and Lando blinks, his brows furrowing in concern. “Three weeks?” he repeats, raising his eyebrows in surprise, as if he’s trying to wrap his head around it.

She nods again, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Look. It’s not you, Lando. I love being with you, and I love the way you make me feel,” she pauses, her voice trembling, and the tears come again, “I think something’s wrong with me. I’m so—I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Her shoulders shake as she cries, and Lando’s heart breaks, seeing her in such distress. He shifts closer, wrapping his arms around her gently, his hand resting on the back of her head.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he says in a soothing tone. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I promise.”

“You don’t know, Lan,” she sobs into his chest, her hands clutching his bicep. “I... don’t know what else could be wrong. I just. I feel broken. Every time we’ve been together these past few weeks, I’ve tried so hard,” she trails off, the weight of her words crushing her.

Lando feels something dark coiling in his chest as the realization settles like a heavy weight in his gut. Weeks. She’s been suffering in silence for weeks, lying beneath him, taking everything he gave her, and still unable to let go. His fingers twitch with the need to fix it, to wipe away every trace of frustration she’s felt, to drag her into a pleasure so deep she forgets this ever happened. But on the outside, Lando stays calm; he can’t let his frustration show, because this isn’t about him. This is about her. And he’s going to make damn sure she never has to feel like this again.

But… how could he have been so clueless?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks in a weak tone, pulling back just enough to look at her.

“I didn’t want to ruin things for you,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “You’ve been so busy lately, and I didn’t want to add to your stress. But it’s not your fault,” she reassures him. “It’s not. It’s me, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Her words cut through him, and he shakes his head, his hand cupping her cheek. “Stop saying that, you’re not doing anything wrong,” says Lando firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “God. Whatever this is, it’s not on you, okay?”

She sniffles, her lip trembling as she looks up at him. “But it feels like it is. Like my body’s just failing me all of a sudden.”

Lando’s jaw flexes, and he feels a sudden pang of anger — not at her, but at himself for not paying enough attention. For being so blind.

“I’m sorry I was so busy and distracted. I should’ve known something was off,” he sighs, voice filled with regret. “I feel so bloody stupid for not noticing how much you’ve been struggling.”

“You’re not—” she says quickly, but he cuts her off.

“No, baby. I should’ve seen that you were hurting.”

Her breath hitches at the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t want you to see. It’s fine, just… I don’t know what am I supposed to do now,” she whispers, her voice losing intensity.

Lando’s words come out so determined next time he speaks, “We’ll take our time, and we’ll work through it together.”

She looks at him, wanting to believe him, but she’s too caught up in her own head. Without thinking, her hands start trembling as they push against his chest, desperate to get some distance.

“No,” her voice is cracking. “No, you deserve better than—gosh, this so unfair. I’m always so close, and then I lose it. This never happened to me before.”

She covers her face with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping that next time she’ll open them, everything will get back to normal. But she knows it’s not that simple, so she stays like that, pressing the bridges of her palms on her eyelids until she sees white, sparkly dots.

Lando stiffens momentarily, the weight of her words sinking in. Her pushing him away stings, but he doesn’t let it show, and he doesn’t let it deter him, either. Instead, Lando leans forward, wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her close even as she tries to fold in on herself.

“It’s okay. We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he whispers, “Just, please. Don’t shut me out.”

She feels his steady embrace, his scent and warmth enveloping her like a protective blanket. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits again and again, hoping that she’ll eventually find an answer.

Lando presses a kiss to the top of her head and tightens his hold. “Is there something I can do? Right now? Something to make you feel even a little better?”

The question hangs in the air for a few seconds before she exhales shakily, attempting to lighten the mood with a weak, joking reply, “I’d like to have an orgasm,” she mutters with a sad laugh, but the vulnerability in her voice betrays her attempt to make light of the situation.

Lando pauses, his lips parting slightly. She feels his chest rise and fall behind her as he takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says simply, his tone laced with quiet determination.

She turns her head to look at him, confused. “What?”

Instead of answering, he adjusts his position so that she’s sitting between his legs. His hands come to rest on her arms, and his touch is light on her skin, as if silently asking her to put her trust in him.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Her shoulders tense at first, but as his hands begin to move, caressing her arms with deliberate care, she allows herself to calm down.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” the girl tells him, tilting her head slightly to meet his eyes. Her hand comes up to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing over his cheek. “You’re always in my mind, Lando. Always.”

Her words make his stomach flip, but he shakes his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s good, baby. But I can’t stand the thought of you feeling this way. Not when I can do something about it. So, let me try.”

He dips his head to kiss her neck, slow and measured, his lips warm against her skin. She shivers, goosebumps spreading across her arms as his hands travel up her sides, cupping her breasts lightly through her shirt. His thumbs brush over her nipples, teasing through the fabric, and her breath hitches.

“Lando…” she breathes, but her protest is weak.

“Shh,” he whispers, his lips still moving against her neck. “Let me.”

With a gentle tug, he pulls her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her bare back presses against the heat of his chest, and she leans into him instinctively, her body relaxing further. One of her hands reaches back, resting against his thigh, while the other remains on his jaw, her thumb tracing his skin absentmindedly.

His kisses grow lazier, deeper, taking his time to savor her, his hands still exploring her body with quiet reverence. When his thumb brushes over her bare nipple this time, her breath catches, and a soft moan escapes her lips.

“Better?” asks Lando quietly, the question laced with affection and a hint of teasing.

She doesn’t answer with words, only nodding as her eyes flutter shut, her body leaning fully into his.

“You’re safe with me,” he assures softly. As his lips linger on her shoulder, his hand moves lower, tracing the curve of her stomach.

Her body tenses momentarily before melting into him again, exhaling sharply when his fingers trail lower, featherlight, until they dip between her legs. He feels the slight tremble in her thighs as her body reacts, and she instinctively parts her legs for him, granting Lando all the access he needs.

Her gaze drops to his arm, watching as the veins stretch under his skin with every movement. The strength in his hand contrasts with the careful way he touches her, and she can’t help but marvel at the sight. Almost instinctively, her hand moves to cover his — not to stop him or to slow him down, but to ground herself in the moment, to feel the reality of him there with her.

“Don’t think too much, yeah?” Lando instructs her, his breath warm against her. “Focus on me. I’ve got you.”

Lando’s fingers part her folds, and he has to close his eyes at the heat and wetness he finds there, evidence of the frustration and need she had been battling. When his thumb brushes against her clit, he feels it pulse under his touch, sensitive from what she had been doing before he walked in.

“Wanna see how responsive you are?” he asks with a teasing smile, pressing his thumb firmly against her clit without moving it.

She gasps silently, but he keeps his hand steady, his other arm holding her securely against him.

“Easy, baby,” he says, his tone as soothing as ever.

He holds the pressure for a few seconds, then finally rubs slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her breathing deepens, her legs shifting as he repeats the motion: firm pressure, then slow strokes, over and over. The rhythm he sets is almost hypnotic, and he feels the tension in her begin to ease as her arousal builds.

Once a new wave of wetness slicks his fingers, his lips twitch into a satisfied smile, “See that? Such a good girl,” he praises gently.

She whimpers at his words, her hips bucking slightly against his hand. He adjusts his grip, keeping her in place as his fingers move lower, teasing her entrance. He doesn’t push inside just yet, only circling the sensitive area, feeling the way her body squirms and trembles in anticipation.

“Relax for me,” he reminds her, his tone almost pleading, “I’m not going anywhere until I make a mess of you.”

She does as he says, but a soft, desperate cry still manages to escape her lips. Her arm wraps tightly around Lando’s neck, pulling him closer, her lips ghosting over his jaw as her breathing grows uneven. He presses a kiss to her temple, whispering words of encouragement, while his fingers explore her with dexterity.

“That’s it, feel me,” he soothes, his tone gentle yet commanding. “Don’t think.”

He finally pushes a finger inside her, but only the tip, teasing her repeatedly. He feels her walls soft and pillowy as he pumps it in and out, and she feels the stretch on her hole somehow differently. When he pulls out completely, her pussy clenches around nothing, instinctively trying to keep him there.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he presses his lips against her hair, smiling. “There goes your needy little hole,” he says, his voice filled with quiet admiration. “Told you there’s nothing wrong with you, baby. It’s all in your pretty head.” Lando pauses, his hand still as he tilts his head closer to hers. “Let me clear it for you.”

With that, he pushes his finger all the way in this time. Her sudden gasp hits his jaw, her hips jerking forward at the sensation. He knows it’s not enough, though the way he feels her walls fluttering around him, tells Lando he is on the right path.

“Look how perfect you are,” he praises, his voice a warm caress. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Without warning, he adds another finger — just to prove his point — stretching her and going deeper than before. Her moan is breathless, her head tipping back as her hips grind into his hand. Lando groans, feeling the slick warmth of her around him, and the way she reacts to every little movement.

“There it is,” his low voice catches her attention, “Feel that? That’s all you, my love. You just needed to be reminded of how incredible you are.”

He finally sets a rhythm, curling his fingers just right, and her cries turn into something more profound, a broken whimper of relief and pleasure as he works her open with care.

Leaning in, Lando is capturing her lips in a urgent kiss. His tongue slides against hers, coaxing soft moans from her as his fingers keep pumping in and out of her slick heat. He spreads her wetness over her puffy folds, his other hand moving to her chest, teasing and pinching her nipple until it hardens under his touch. He’s deliberate in his movements, having one clear goal in mind: to overwhelm her senses, to pull her away from the pressure of the finish line and make her fall in love with the journey.

His fingers scissor inside her, stretching her further, before curling again, brushing over the spot that makes her cry in pleasure. He presses the bridge of his palm firmly against her clit, applying just enough pressure to have her legs trembling against him. Her breathing turns erratic, her chest rising and falling quickly as the excitement starts to blur the edges of her thoughts.

Lando’s hand never falters, burying his fingers in and out of her with just the right amount of force, the wetness between her thighs making everything slick and obscene. But then, just as the wave begins to crest, he stills. His hand stops and she cries out, her walls protesting around him, as if trying to pull him back into motion.

“It’s okay, you’re doing so well,” he continues with his praise. “We’re close, yeah?” asks Lando rhetorically, waiting, feeling her body tighten and then gradually relax.

Then he starts again, the rhythm maddeningly slow.

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, but just as she teeters on the edge again, he stops once more.

“Fuck, Lando. Please,” she chokes out, her hips jerking against his hand, trying to create some friction. “I can’t—please, let me have it,” her voice is drenched in frustration and need.

He hums against her neck, savoring every sound she makes. “You know I will, baby. But you need to trust me,” he says, voice steady, his fingers suddenly resuming their pace. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you, pretty girl?”

Her whole body shivers, her thighs trembling around his hand as she shakes her head frantically. “No,” she whimpers, “I won’t—please, please. I’ll do anything, just don’t stop again.”

The desperation in her voice tugs at something deep in him. He feels guilty, seeing her so wrecked and desperate after holding this pressure inside for weeks, but when her slickness grows, coating his fingers and hand, he knows she’s on the brink. He can physically feel it.

Smiling, Lando leans over, pressing soft kisses to her flushed cheek, talking tenderly against her skin, “Make me proud,” he whispers, his voice thick with affection and lust.

And that’s more than enough.

Her release comes in a rush, hitting her like fireworks as she cries out his name, her body spasming uncontrollably around Lando’s fingers. He keeps working her through it, whispering praises against her skin while her nails dig into his forearm, anchoring herself to him as the weeks of frustration dissolve into pure, blinding pleasure.

“Beautiful,” says Lando, dipping his head to kiss her.

He bites her lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with a soft lick. Then, with a sly smirk, he shoves his tongue back into her mouth, tasting the soft gasp she lets out.

He attacks her senses from every direction — his hand between her legs, the other on her chest, his lips consuming hers. The pressure on her clit, the way his fingers still curl and stretch inside her, the heat of his body pressed to hers — everything feels right again. She’s finally losing herself, over and over, her mind emptying of everything but the way Lando feels, and the way he’s making her feel.

Just like he promised.

Her lips part against his, and the only thing she can think to say it’s his name, that escapes in a broken, breathless cry.

Her cheeks are flushed, the heat spreading through her body like wildfire. The wet, slick sounds of his hand working her fill the bathroom, blending with her breathless moans and the occasional low rasp of his voice. She feels the telltale pressure building once more in her lower abdomen, the one that makes her toes curl and her thighs tremble. And then, like clockwork, the fear starts to creep in — the same fear that’s stolen her release before.

Sensing the shift in her breathing, Lando reminds her, his voice impossibly soft, “You can,” he encourages her, “One more, baby. Look how well you take my fingers.”

Her chest heaves as she finds the strength to glance down, her half-lidded eyes catching the hypnotic way his hand works between her legs, his fingers disappearing into her again and again. The sight is enough to make her stomach tighten, and when her gaze lifts, she meets Lando’s.

He’s already looking at her, his eyes dark with desire but impossibly gentle, filled with reassurance and love. That’s what does it — their unyielding, pure connection. Her second orgasm crashes over her without warning, the intensity pulling a cry from deep within her chest.

“Lando, yes!” she moans, her voice breaking as she clings to him, her body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh my—”

He doesn’t stop, his fingers working her through the overwhelming waves of pleasure. She’s crying, tears slipping down her cheeks, but these are different — they’re tears of relief; liquid euphoria.

The towel beneath her is soaked, her release spilling out in waves, and Lando lets out a low, approving groan as he feels her gush against his hand. “That’s my good girl,” he says proudly, kissing her temple as her cries fade into breathless whimpers. “Look at you. So perfect, baby. You fucking did it.”

She collapses into his chest, her body utterly spent, her mind hazy from the high of finally letting go. And for the first time in weeks, she feels nothing but peace.

Lando keeps her close, his lips brushing against her temple in the softest of kisses, waiting for her to come back to herself. She exhales shakily, the steady thrum of his heartbeat calming her.

Lando tilts his head down, his curls tickling her cheek as he insists, “Next time you feel like this, come to me. Don’t keep it in, baby. We’ll work it out together like we did now,” his words are definitive, the weight of his love for her wrapped around every syllable. He leans back slightly to look at her, his eyes soft but unwavering. “The perfect fit, you and I, right?”

She lifts her gaze to meet his, and he smiles, his dimples peeking out as his hand brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Thank you,” she says. “For knowing me better than anyone.”

“That’s because I love you, silly,” says Lando, his lips grazing hers in a featherlight kiss. “And loving you means taking care of you. Even when you don’t know how to let me.”

Hearing Lando’s words, a flicker of shame creeps in. She realizes she should have told him sooner. They’re a team — they always have been. And yet, she let herself spiral alone, convinced this was something she had to fix by herself.

Before she can dwell on it too much, Lando peppers more kisses to her temple and cheek, his voice deliberately teasing, but laced with something undeniably serious, “Let’s go back to bed,” he says, helping her up. “I’ve got three weeks to make up for, and I don’t plan on wasting a second.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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scarluna · 3 months ago

Text

Thoughts of You

Y/N starts work as a client agent at a big corporate company. There, she meets Jungkook, a man who confuses the hell out of her.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, fuckboy jungkook, insecurities, smoking

Chapter available: 1 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapters: 2 / 5

Chapter Warnings: mature language, a little sexual tension

A/N: In sake of this fic, some things are added, others are a little changed, but the overall story is true. I AM AS CONFUSED AS Y/N OK? OK.

A week had passed, and Y/N found herself standing in front of her mirror, dreading the idea of stepping out. The past few days had been a relentless battle between her self-doubt and the need to push herself beyond her comfort zone. She hated the way she looked—how big she felt in her own skin. Every outfit she tried on made her feel worse, her reflection in the mirror only reinforcing the insecurities gnawing at her.

Sighing, she settled on oversized clothes, ones that concealed rather than accentuated, offering her a semblance of security. Her hair was curled loosely, cascading down her shoulders, a contrast to the chaos in her mind. A touch of makeup—just enough to make her feel like she had put in some effort, yet not enough to draw attention—completed her look.

Her dog whined at her feet, sensing her reluctance, but Y/N gave the pup a small smile before grabbing her bag and stepping out the door. The fresh air hit her face, yet it did little to ease the weight in her chest. The car ride was silent, save for the occasional deep breath she took to steel herself.

Arriving at the meetup spot, she saw her colleagues already gathered, laughter filling the air. They greeted her warmly, joking about the upcoming night, their energy so effortlessly light compared to the storm within her. For a fleeting moment, she managed a small smile, allowing herself to feel a bit of ease in their presence.

Then came the loud roar of an engine, bass-heavy music thumping through the air. The group turned, already knowing who it was before they even saw the sleek car roll up beside them. Jungkook. His presence was impossible to ignore, commanding attention the moment he stepped out.

Y/N swallowed as she caught sight of him. The disheveled hair, the relaxed posture, and—what made her stomach churn—the faint but unmistakable hickeys littering his neck.

Her heart sank, her mood plummeting instantly. She had been struggling to even step out of her house, to feel like she belonged among them, while he... he had been out, living effortlessly, having fun, and clearly enjoying the company of someone else.

She shifted her gaze away, forcing herself to maintain composure as their friends greeted him with teasing remarks. She wanted to disappear, to retreat into the comfort of her home, where she could be alone with her dog and her thoughts.

But she was here now, and she had to endure it. Even if it hurt.

The teasing began almost instantly.

“Damn, Jungkook,” one of their colleagues smirked, nudging him playfully. “Rough night?”

Another chimed in, laughing. “Or should I say, rough nights? You’ve got enough hickeys to last the week.”

Jungkook, ever the cocky one, simply grinned, running a hand through his already messy hair. “What can I say?” he shrugged, his voice dripping with amusement. “Gotta keep life interesting.”

The group erupted into laughter, the energy high and unbothered. Y/N, on the other hand, remained quiet, staring ahead as if their conversation didn’t concern her. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lighting it with steady hands, despite the storm raging inside her. Taking a slow, deep drag, she let the smoke swirl around her, masking the bitter taste of disappointment that sat heavy on her tongue.

She had no right to feel this way. She knew that. He wasn’t hers—never was, never would be. But for even a second, she had allowed herself to believe there was something. A fleeting glance, a moment of warmth, a shared silence that had meant nothing to him but had kept her awake at night, foolishly hoping.

Stupid. She was so, so stupid.

“Hey, you good?” One of her colleagues leaned toward her, their voice laced with concern.

Y/N forced a lazy smile, exhaling the smoke as she waved them off. “Yeah, just too sleepy to function.” A lie, but an easy one.

They seemed satisfied with her answer, turning back to the conversation as Jungkook smirked at another crude joke thrown his way. Y/N, meanwhile, sat in silence, the cigarette burning between her fingers as she fought the cruel thoughts in her head.

She needed to stop. Stop pretending. Stop romanticizing. Stop letting herself fall into this ridiculous fairytale where she was ever anything more than just another face in his orbit.

Jungkook would never see her the way she wished he would.

And it was time she stopped seeing him that way too.

The break room was lively, filled with the usual chatter and laughter as everyone settled in for their lunch break. Some were sprawled out on the couches, others engaged in a casual game of football, while a few gathered around the vending machines debating over snacks. Y/N sat at the table in front of Jungkook, absentmindedly picking at her food, her mind drifting elsewhere as the conversation carried on around her.

Jungkook, spinning lazily in his chair, suddenly spoke up, dragging everyone’s attention back to him. “You know,” he mused, stretching his arms behind his head, “I think I should date an older woman. Maybe even a MILF.”

A chorus of laughter erupted around the room. “Oh yeah?” One of the guys smirked. “Thinking of settling down already?”

Jungkook grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, just think it could be fun. Older women have their shit together, know what they want, plus…” He trailed off as he turned slightly in his chair, catching movement outside the window. His gaze locked onto a woman walking past the building, pushing a baby stroller. She was effortlessly beautiful—dressed casually yet put together, her confidence apparent in the way she carried herself.

“Damn,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Now she’s hot.”

Some of the guys turned to look, chuckling at his sudden distraction. “She’s got a baby, dude.”

Jungkook shrugged, still watching her. “So? Doesn’t mean she’s taken.” He smirked, clearly entertained by his own train of thought. “Think I should ask if she’s single?”

Y/N felt her stomach twist in disgust. She had spent the last week trying to fight off the stupid storm of feelings and confusion she had toward him, trying to remind herself that this was the reality and no matter how his words were gathered, he was still a fuckboy and probably did not mean anything he had told her so far about him being loyal. Here he was, proving her right without even realizing it.

She didn’t think. She just moved.

Pushing her chair back abruptly, she stood up and walked straight out of the break room, her face blank, her heart pounding with frustration. She didn’t even care how obvious it looked—she just needed to get out of there.

As the door swung shut behind her, Jungkook’s amused voice carried through the room. “Oh, no, Y/N is tired of my shit!” he joked, shaking his head as the others laughed.

But for the first time, something about her reaction made him pause.

Y/N had made it a habit to slip away during breaks, finding solace in the quiet outside. The crisp air, the burn of the cigarette between her fingers—it was the only thing that seemed to ground her these days. She avoided the break room, avoided the easy laughter and meaningless conversations, and most importantly, she avoided him.

Jungkook.

But of course, he found her anyway.

She barely had time to take another drag when she heard the door creak open behind her. She knew it was him before he even spoke.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate in the air before she turned her gaze to him. “No, I haven’t.”

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, his presence too overwhelming, too intoxicating. “Liar.” His tone was teasing, but there was something else beneath it—curiosity, maybe even concern. “You barely look at me. You don’t sit with us anymore.”

She shrugged, taking another drag, feigning indifference. “I’m just tired.”

Jungkook didn’t look convinced. His dark eyes scanned her face, as if searching for something beneath her guarded expression. The silence between them was heavy, charged. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way he was studying her, trying to read between the lines of her simple excuse.

“You sure that’s all?” His voice was lower now, softer, and it made her stomach tighten in a way she hated.

Before she could answer, his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket, breaking whatever unspoken thing had been building between them. Jungkook sighed, pulling it out and glancing at the screen. He didn’t answer immediately, but whatever he saw on the display made him smirk slightly before he finally picked up.

“Yo,” he answered casually, his voice shifting into something more playful. A few short words, and then he hung up.

Moments later, Y/N heard heels clicking against the pavement. She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—she could already picture the kind of girl Jungkook surrounded himself with. And when she did look, her stomach twisted.

The girl was thin, almost unnaturally so, her long hair spilling down in artificially perfect waves. Everything about her was polished—the exaggerated lashes, the overly plumped lips, the body sculpted to perfection.

“Hey, you,” she greeted Jungkook with a slow, knowing smile, her voice dripping with familiarity.

They were close. Too close. The way she looked at him, the way he smirked at her—it didn’t take much to guess what kind of history they had.

Y/N felt something ugly crawl up her throat, but she swallowed it down. She refused to let it show. Instead, she forced a weak smile, one that probably looked as fake as the girl’s hair extensions.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she murmured, flicking her cigarette away as she immediately slipped back into the building without giving Jungkook time to respond. This entire thing kept running in her mind, it was as if this was all she could think of the month she has been here. Y/N had to get a fucking grip and get over this, all of the men she had met in her past were the same, men who were one in words yet did the opposite. She shouldn’t have been surprised about this, it was as if Universe sent a huge middle finger her way for being so closed off. -

Y/N sat across from her close friend at their usual café, the scent of fresh coffee filling the air. She stirred her drink absentmindedly, sighing as she recounted everything—Jungkook, the break room incident, the fake-looking girl, and the way she had walked away, feeling small and ridiculous for even being affected.

Her friend had a a knack for reading people far too well, listened attentively, nodding along as Y/N spoke. When she was finished, her friend leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“You know what I think?” she said thoughtfully.

Y/N groaned. “Here we go.”

“I think you’re stuck.”

Y/N frowned. “Stuck how?”

“You’ve been in your comfort zone for too long, Y/N,” her friend said seriously. “You’re always playing it safe, always hiding. And I get it—you like your space, your quiet world. But growth doesn’t happen in places that are comfortable. If you want to move on, if you want to feel better about yourself, you need to push yourself.”

Y/N arched a brow. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

“Easy. Start by doing things you wouldn’t normally do. Wear something different, change up your makeup, say yes to things instead of immediately retreating.” Her friend smiled. “Do it for yourself. Not for Jungkook, not for anyone else. Just you.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. It sounded simple enough, but it wasn’t. She had built her world around comfort and control, and stepping outside of that felt terrifying. But at the same time, a part of her knew her friend was right.

And so, the next morning, she did just that.

For once, she didn’t reach for her oversized clothes. Instead, she slid into a pair of skinny jeans, ones that hugged her figure in a way she wasn’t used to but didn’t hate. She paired it with a soft, slightly low-cut blouse—work-appropriate yet subtly flattering. Her makeup was a little more refined, enhancing rather than hiding. She stared at herself in the mirror, unsure at first. But the longer she looked, the more she felt… okay. Not completely confident, but okay.

And that was a start.

When Y/N arrived at the office, the reaction was immediate.

“Damn, Y/N, look at you!” one of her colleagues grinned.

“You look amazing!” another chimed in, eyes flickering over her in genuine appreciation.

She offered them a small, almost shy smile, mumbling a quiet “Thanks” as she made her way to her desk. It felt strange, the attention, but it wasn’t bad. For once, she wasn’t trying to disappear into the background.

The door opened, and in walked Jungkook.

She held her breath, but he barely reacted. He walked past her, barely sparing a glance before offering a casual, “Hey,” before settling into his place.

That was it.

Y/N exhaled, realizing something.

She hadn’t done this for him. And that meant his reaction—or lack of it—didn’t matter.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt something close to free.

The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky as Y/N stepped outside for a quick smoke break. The air was thick with casual conversation and laughter as a few colleagues gathered, all taking a moment to unwind. She leaned against the railing, taking a slow drag from her cigarette, exhaling as she listened to the chatter around her.

“Y/N, you look different lately,” a voice piped up beside her. She turned to see one of her colleagues, a guy who had always been a little too flirty, watching her with an interested smirk. “In a good way,” he added, his eyes running over her outfit.

She gave him a polite smile, shrugging. “Just trying something new.”

“Well, it suits you,” he said, stepping a little closer. “We should celebrate the new you. Maybe grab some drinks after work? My place, maybe even watch a movie?” His voice had a certain implication to it, and Y/N felt her stomach twist.

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass.”

“Oh, come on,” he pressed, his tone playful but persistent. “It’ll be fun. Just a casual hangout.”

Y/N stiffened slightly, the forced smile on her lips faltering. “I said no,” she replied, firmer this time, but he didn’t seem to take the hint, leaning in just a little too much.

Before she could react, another voice cut through the air.

“Is there a problem here?”

The mood shifted instantly.

Jungkook had been standing nearby, leaning against the wall with his own cigarette in hand, casually listening in. But now, his entire posture had changed—his jaw tight, his expression unreadable as he stared at the guy with an intensity that made everyone else go quiet.

The colleague blinked, caught off guard. “Nah, man. Just talking.”

Jungkook didn’t break eye contact. “Didn’t sound like just talking.” His voice was low, calm, but there was something sharp in it. Something warning.

The guy let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Relax, dude. Just asking her out.”

“She said no,” Jungkook stated plainly.

Silence stretched between them, tension thick enough to cut through. Y/N glanced between the two, her heart beating a little faster, not expecting Jungkook to step in like this.

The colleague raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No harm done.” He took a step back, throwing Y/N one last glance before mumbling something under his breath and walking off.

Jungkook took a slow drag from his cigarette before flicking his gaze toward Y/N. “You good?”

She exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just studied her for a moment before finally nodding back, looking away as he took another drag.

But even as the conversation around them resumed, Y/N could still feel his presence beside her, solid and unwavering. And for some reason, that alone made her feel a little lighter.

The workday finally came to an end, and the office slowly emptied as people grabbed their bags, exchanging casual goodbyes. Y/N slung her purse over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out into the cool evening air.

She made her way toward the bus stop, the day’s events still sitting heavy in her mind. Just as she was about to put in her headphones to drown out her thoughts, she heard the familiar sound of an engine purring beside her.

Jungkook’s sleek car rolled up, the passenger window sliding down effortlessly. “Where you headed?” he asked casually, one hand resting on the wheel.

Y/N blinked, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “Uh… home?”

Jungkook smirked. “Get in. I’ll drive you.”

She hesitated.

This was unexpected. It wasn’t like they were close. Sure, they shared breaks, exchanged words, but this? This felt like something else.

“I’m fine, the bus is—”

“Slow. And uncomfortable,” he cut in smoothly. “Come on, it’s a thirty-minute ride. You’d rather sit in a crowded bus when I’m right here?” His gaze flickered toward her, something teasing yet unreadable behind those dark eyes.

Y/N bit her lip, the refusal sitting on the tip of her tongue. But then she remembered her friend’s words—step out of your comfort zone.

Maybe this was one of those moments.

With a small sigh, she relented. “Fine.”

Sliding into the passenger seat, she was instantly engulfed in warmth, the subtle hum of the car’s engine vibrating beneath her. And the scent—God, his scent—wrapped around her, all masculine spice and something distinctly him. She forced herself to focus on buckling her seatbelt rather than the fact that she was sitting next to Jungkook in a confined space, inhaling his cologne like it was some kind of drug.

He pulled onto the road, one hand lazily gripping the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift.

“So,” he mused after a moment, glancing at her. “What’s your deal?”

Y/N frowned. “My deal?”

“Yeah. You don’t talk much. You keep to yourself. And yet…” He trailed off, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’ve been looking different lately. Acting different too.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “So I put on better clothes and now I’m a mystery?”

Jungkook chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through the car. “You were already a mystery. This just makes you more interesting.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but felt the heat creeping up her neck. The conversation flowed easier than she expected, light banter mixed with moments of silence that weren’t uncomfortable. The drive went by quicker than she thought, and before she knew it, Jungkook was pulling up in front of her apartment building, shifting the car into park.

She turned to thank him, but the words caught in her throat.

The air between them shifted.

The low hum of the engine did nothing to mask the way the tension suddenly thickened, heavy and lingering. The dim glow of the streetlights outside barely illuminated the inside of the car, casting soft shadows across Jungkook’s sharp features.

His gaze settled on her, slow and deliberate.

Y/N swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly around her purse.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering down to her lips before meeting her gaze again. “You’re hard to read, you know that?” His voice was lower now, smoother.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, forcing a small smile. “Maybe I like it that way.”

Jungkook’s smirk deepened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Yeah?”

She nodded, gripping the handle of the door before things could spiral into something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. “Thanks for the ride, Jungkook.”

He didn’t stop her. Didn’t say anything else. Just watched as she slipped out of the car and made her way to her building.

But she could feel his gaze on her, lingering, burning, until she finally disappeared inside—her heart hammering against her ribs the entire way up to her apartment.

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moonlightwritingf1 · 4 months ago

Text

Between Goodbyes and Forevers | LN4

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando has to leave to prepare for the new season, and Y/N is super sad and clingy. He comforts her, and they have emotional goodbye sex.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.6k

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex,

Based on this request.

Y/N’s apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside her floor-to-ceiling windows. The evening was winding down, but her mind was anything but calm. Lando lounged on her sofa, one arm draped casually over the back, his signature smirk playing on his lips. He’d been teasing her all night, his words light and playful, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her heart race.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he remarked, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the silence. His gaze lingered on her, and she felt her cheeks warm under his scrutiny.

“Just tired,” Y/N lied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Lando was leaving tomorrow, heading back to Monaco to prepare for the new Formula One season. She’d known this was coming, but now that the moment was here, it felt like a weight pressing down on her chest.

“Bullshit,” Lando said with a chuckle, leaning forward slightly. His eyes narrowed, and that smirk turned into a knowing grin. “You’ve been clingy all evening. Not that I’m complaining,” he added, his tone softening.

“I haven’t been clingy,” Y/N retorted, though her voice lacked conviction. She hated how easily he saw through her.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been glued to my side all night. Even when I went to grab a drink, you followed me like a lost puppy.”

She opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it. He wasn’t wrong. She had been clingy, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to seem desperate or needy, but the thought of him leaving made her stomach churn.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, looking down at her hands. “I just… I’m really going to miss you.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he moved closer to her on the sofa. His hand found hers, intertwining their fingers. “I’m going to miss you too, you know. More than I can say.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. There was a sincerity in his gaze that made her breath catch. For someone who was always so carefree and teasing, Lando had a way of making her feel like she was the most important person in the world.

“You’ll call me, right?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Every day,” he promised, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. “And I’ll FaceTime you after every race. You’ll be sick of me by the end of the season.”

Y/N managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but there was a part of her that was terrified he’d forget about her. That she’d be just another girl he left behind.

Lando must have sensed her unease because he leaned in closer, his free hand cupping her cheek. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice like a warm blanket wrapping around her. “You’re not just some girl, Y/n. You’re everything to me. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest, and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. She hated how vulnerable she felt around him, but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “What if… what if you meet someone else? Someone prettier, someone more….”

“Stop,” Lando interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. He tilted her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes. “There’s no one else. There’s only you. Always you.”

His words were like a balm to her insecurities, but they weren’t enough to completely erase the doubt gnawing at her. Before she could say anything else, Lando leaned in and captured her lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was soft and sweet, but there was an underlying passion that made her pulse quicken.

When he pulled away, she was breathless, her lips tingling from the contact. “I’m not letting you go, Y/N,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Not now, not ever.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the heat pooling in her lower stomach. She wanted to believe him, to trust him completely, but it was hard. Harder than she’d ever admit.

“I love you,” she blurted out, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop them.

Lando froze for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across his face, lighting up his features. “I love you too,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “More than anything.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Before she could overthink it, she leaned in and kissed him again, this time with more urgency.

Lando responded immediately, his hands tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that mirrored her own, and she could feel the heat between them growing with every passing second.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their chests rising and fallings rapidly. Lando’s eyes were filled with desire, and Y/n could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

Lando didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands trailing down her sides to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it off slowly, his touch soft and deliberate.

Y/N bit her lip, her insecurities bubbling to the surface. She was so used to hiding her body, to covering up the parts of herself she didn’t like. But the way Lando looked at her made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

His hands moved to her bra, and she tensed slightly. “Lando, I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice soothing. “I love every inch of you, Y/n. Every scar, every curve. You’re perfect to me.”

His words melted her fears, and she relaxed as he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. His eyes roamed over her body, and she could see the hunger in them. It made her feel powerful, desired.

Lando leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone before trailing his lips lower. His tongue flicked over her nipple, and she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair.

He continued to tease her, his lips and tongue working in tandem to drive her wild. She could feel the heat building inside her, her body trembling with need.

When he finally pulled away, she was a wreck, her chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes met hers, and there was a fire in them that made her stomach flip.

“I need you,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He stripped off his clothes quickly, his eyes never leaving hers. When he finally joined her on the bed, she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His lips found hers again, and he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body. Every touch, every kiss, was slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment.

He hovered above her, his weight pressing into the mattress, his breath warm and ragged against her skin. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, sending shivers up her spine. With a gentleness that made her chest tighten, he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her, teasing, testing.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening, lips parted in a silent plea. Lando didn’t break eye contact as he slowly pressed into her, inch by inch. The stretch burned just enough to make her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to him. He paused there, buried deep, letting her feel the full weight of him, the way their bodies fit together like they were made for this, for each other.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost pained. His jaw clenched, his forehead falling against hers as he struggled to hold still. “You’re so tight... so goddamn perfect.”

She could feel every pulse of him inside her, the heat of his skin searing into hers. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low groan from his throat. It was overwhelming, the fullness, the intensity of it all. She felt owned, claimed, but not in a way that scared her. In a way that made her heart swell, as if this was where she was always meant to be.

Lando began to move then—slow, deliberate thrusts that made her head spin. Each stroke dragged against her walls, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She arched into him, her legs wrapping tighter around his hips, urging him deeper, faster. But he kept his pace unhurried, his lips painting a trail of heat along her neck, her collarbone, anywhere his mouth could reach.

“Look at me,” he demanded softly, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hand. Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. There was so much in those eyes—lust, yes, but something else too, something deeper. Something that made her chest ache with how much she felt for him.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the dampness of his skin. “I love you,” she whispered, the words tumbling out like a secret, a promise.

His breath caught, and he pressed his forehead against hers again, his thrusts faltering just for a moment. “I love you,” he breathed back, the words raw, unfiltered. And then he kissed her—deep, consuming, as if he could pour everything he felt through that one connection.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

She nodded, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Always.”

Their bodies moved together in a rhythm so deliberate, so unhurried, it felt like time itself had slowed. Every deep, calculated thrust was more than physical; it was a conversation, a language only they spoke. Lando’s hips rolled into hers with an almost unbearable precision, every stroke dragging against her inner walls in a way that left her gasping, her nails carving faint crescents into his back.

She could feel the fullness of him stretching her, the way he filled every inch of her impossibly tight heat. The friction was torturous and exquisite all at once, a slow burn that coiled low in her belly, building with every movement. He leaned back slightly, supporting himself on one arm, his free hand roaming down her side to grip her hip. His fingers dug in just enough to anchor her, pulling her closer as he drove deeper, their bodies slapping together in a wet, dizzying rhythm.

“Look at me,” he said again, his voice rough, strained. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the intensity there stole her breath. His pupils were blown wide, filled with desire and love.

She reached up, her fingers trembling as they traced the damp line of his jaw, the stubble scratching her fingertips. “Lando...” she whispered, her voice breaking halfway. It wasn’t a plea or a demand; it was a confession, a surrender.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he bent his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that swallowed her moans whole. His tongue slid against hers, hot and demanding, mirroring the relentless pace of his hips. She could taste the desperation in him, the way he clung to her as though she might slip away.

And then his hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit in one fluid motion. She arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her throat as he pressed firm circles there, the pressure exact and unrelenting. Her thighs clamped around his waist, her body tightening around him in waves that had him groaning into her mouth.

“Fuck, you feel... too good,” he rasped, his thrusts growing uneven, faltering as he lost control. His forehead dropped to hers, their breaths mingling, sweat-slick and frantic. “Y/n, I—”

She cut him off with a whimper, her orgasm crashing over her without warning, stealing her ability to think, to breathe. Her vision blurred, her body shuddering as pleasure ripped through her, sharp and all-consuming. And still he kept moving, dragging out her climax until tears pricked her eyes.

Her name fell from his lips again, this time a choked sound, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hips jerked sharply, once, twice, before he buried himself deep, his release spilling into her in thick, pulsing waves. He collapsed onto her, his weight heavy and warm, their chests heaving in unison.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the two of them, tangled together, heartbeats syncing as they came down from the high.

Lando’s fingers traced the curve of her jawline, his touch feather-light, as if memorizing every detail of her face. His lips pressed against her forehead, lingering there, soft and unhurried. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent a shiver through her, and she nestled closer, her arms tugging his tighter around her. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest, grounding her, anchoring her to this moment.

“I’m going to miss you,” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, like a secret she couldn’t hold in anymore. Her breath hitched, the weight of his impending departure pressing heavily on her chest. “So much.”

Lando’s arms tightened around her, his lips brushing against her temple in a lingering kiss. “I’m going to miss you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Every second I’m away from you will feel like a lifetime.”

She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes searching his face. The intensity in his gaze held her captive, his eyes filled with a love that made her chest ache. “Promise me,” she said softly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, “that you’ll come back to me.”

“Always,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the ache in it. His forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. “You’re my home, Y/n. No matter where I am, I’ll always come back to you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her lips curving into a small, radiant smile. “I love you,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions.

“I love you more,” he replied, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. “More than I’ve ever loved anything.”

Her eyelashes fluttered shut as she leaned into him, her body melting against his. In his arms, she felt safe, cherished, and utterly loved. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them, holding onto each other as if nothing else mattered. The warmth of his embrace, the softness of his touch, the depth of his love— it was all she needed, all she ever wanted.

And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet stillness of the night, Y/n knew, without a doubt, that no matter the distance, no matter the time, he would always be hers. And she would always be his.

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