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tsunomenom · 4 months ago

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my fault: lando | ln4 smau

♡ summary: you star in my fault: london and the internet can’t stop comparing your onscreen love interest to your real life boyfriend, lando norris

♡ pairing: lando norris x singer/actress!reader

♡ warnings: use of yn, fluff, established relationship

♡ faceclaim: asha banks

♡ a/n: i watched my fault london and couldn’t stop thinking about how fun a smau with asha as the faceclaim would be 😭

masterlist

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𝜗𝜚

yourusername

🎵 YN LN • Feel The Rush

Liked by lando and 635,789 others

yourusername My Fault: London is OUT!!!! AGHHH 😭🥲 i’m so proud of this movie and everyone who worked on it!! plus my song Feel The Rush is in the end credits (WTF 🥹🥹🥹) so go WATCH GUYS!!! and if that’s not enough to convince you there’s a mclaren cameo 😏

tagged: primevideo, primevideouk

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user854 “mclaren cameo” got me thinking lando just gonna pop up 😪

user206 but no queen meant an actual mclaren 🥲🥲

user173 ACTUALLY PEAK WATTPAD CINEMA 😍😍

user035 wattpad cinema is crazy 😭

pietra.pilao talented girl 🥰

yourusername love you p 😚🙃

mattbroome3 vroom vroom 🏎️ ♥︎ by author

user840 ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED

lando MY BEAUTIFUL TALENTED PRETTY TOTAL BABE OF A GIRLFRIEND EVERYONE 😍😩😝

maxfewtrell damn mate could you be anymore whipped

yourusername shush you muppet (don’t stop keep complimenting me) 🤭😝

yourusername maxfewtrell literally stfu who invited you 😒

user387 FAVORITE WAG EVER (she ate in this guys go watch it 🥹🥹🥹)

user218 guys hear me out nick is eerily lando coded….

user876 STOP CAUSE I THOUGHT THE SAME THING 😭😭

user321 THEY LOOK ALIKE FFS 💀

lilymhe best movie every pretty girl 🫶🏻

yourusername MWAH LOVE YOU BIG 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

lilyzneimer i’ve watched this way too many times i fear 🫣😭

yourusername BYEEEE ILYY

user530 the sequel is a NEEED 😭

primevideo buckle up

user408 she’s actually so pretty 😭😪

user032 when she can’t escape guys who drive mclarens >> ♥︎ by author

user321 ICONIC TBH

hattiepiastri can lando fight?

riabish no 🙂‍↔️

yourusername no (but he’d try) ☺️

maxfewtrell no he can’t

lando literally wtf 😀

hattiepiastri movie eats and so do you!!!

yourusername MWAH MWAH MWAH 😚😚😚

—— twitter

replies—

user912 ITS SOOO GOOD (BUT THE MCLAREN)

user773 THE FUCKING MCLAREN & THE LICENSE PLATE 😭😭😭

user912 LIKE THEY DID THAT ON PURPOSE 💀 ♥︎ by author

user775 YN LOOKED SO GOOOOD 😭

user773 HONESTLYYYYYYY

user925 THE NL LICENSE PLATE MADE ME CRASH OUT

user021 IT WAS CRAZY BEHAVIOR

user044 the actor even lowkey looks like lando 😭😭

user773 no cause they have some similarities it’s kinda scary 😭😭

user923 yn’s onscreen version having the same type as her irl is real af though

user773 honestly if you’re gonna kiss someone in a movie might as well be your bf’s lookalike 😭😭

user856 ITS SUCH A GOOD MOVIE I LOOK PAST THE WATTPADYNESS OF IT 😭😭😭

~~~

user550 BYE THATS DIABOLICAL 😭😭😭😭

user773 i hope yn sees these tweets cause this is wild 😭😭

user410 DONT WISH THAT ON ME OMFG-

user887 lando and matt ignoring that they’re kinda twins: 🧑‍🦯 ♥︎ by author

user444 yn’s too chronically online for you guys to be this bold 😭😭

user410 whoops 🥲

user923 mad respect for coming up with that one

yourusername STOP STFU 😭😭

user410 NO LOOK AWAY MY LOVE IM SOOO SORRY

user773 OH HI QUEEN 😭😭😭

user076 STOP U GUYS SCARRED HER SHE’LL NEVER INTERACT WITH US AGAIN 💀

yourusername GUYS NO DONT MAKE THIS A THING WTF-🥲🥲🥲

user923 ml i fear this is already a thing 😬

user176 LOOK AWAY LOOOK AWAYYYY

—— interview

snippet of YN LN & Matthew Broome youtube interview for My Fault: London

(pic 1: interviewer: now i'd be remissed if i didn't ask... YN how do we feel about fans online saying Nick and Lando have similarities? Matt: *laughs* YN: I honestly still don't see it! but i showed Lan a few of the tweets i saw and we all have seen many tiktoks—)(pic 2: Matt: i sent her and lando a few on instagram and was like this is f***ing nuts mates and we had a proper laugh about it YN: *laughs* it got worse when lan's siblings started seeing the comparisons and told him "he has your f***ing license plate!" but honestly i think we all just find it a funny coincidence! i mean nick does have a mclaren with a custom license plate *you shrug*)(pic 3: Matt: *laughs* although she's not a fan of me and lando calling each other twin which we have started doing just to mess with her! YN: it actually makes me mental it's the worst! Interviewer: *laughs*)

Comments —

user807 STOPP THEY THINK THE COMPARISONS ARE HILARIOUS

user776 YN is so unserious i love her 😭😭😭

user446 matt and lando calling each other twin is fucking hilarious 😭😭

user007 it honestly makes me so happy 😭😭

user310 okay but the similarities are so glaringly obvious 😭😭

user820 i love that lando has always been close to yn’s costars

user885 its boyfriend goals tbh

user431 such a good movie and the offscreen chemistry is adorable (platonic obvs)

user522 YN CALLING LANDO LAN FUCKS ME UP ISTG 😭😭😭

user032 MUM AND DAD HONESTLY

user001 love that she was probably giggling over the tweets with lando 😭😭😭😭

user045 f1 winter break has us so bored we all watched a movie because the main guy looked a little like lando norris 😭😭

user465 speak for yourself i watched for my fav wag yn‼️

user777 drop the sequel 😩😩😩😩

—— instagram

yourusername

🎵 Charli xcx • Vroom Vroom

Liked by pietra.pilao and 856,708 others

yourusername 1 week of My Fault: London!!! as a treat for streaming enjoy my lando cosplay 😚🙃☺️

tagged: mattbroome3

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user281 giving f1 driver 😍

user021 YN could drive an f1 car but lando couldn’t play Noah 😌😌 ♥︎ by author

mclaren contract is on its way 📝

yourusername mwah admin 🥰 (i will win the wdc for you bby)

lando you can’t give her my job… admin..? zak..? andrea..?

mclaren lando sorry who is lando norris? we only know YN LN 🤷‍♀️ ♥︎ by author

user630 i have watched it four times (ITS AMAAAZZZZINGGG) ♥︎ by author

lando i’ve watched it 10 get on my level 🤨

user630 lando pack it up nick leister wannabe

yourusername user630 BYE 😭

user388 ICON LEGEND GIVE HER THE WDC ALREADY HONESTLY

lilymhe woaaah racing driver 😍

yourusername 😝😏

alex_albon i- wow

lando you soooooooooooo pretty 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

yourusername omg it’s lando norris 🫢🫢🫢🫢🫢

lando u single????? can i have ur numberrrrrrr 😍😍

yourusername noo i have a bf 😨😨😨

lando yourusername NOOOOO 😓😓😓😓😓😓😓😓😓😓😓

maxfewtrell sometimes you make me question why i’m friends with you 🙂‍↔️

yourusername maxfewtrell wdym? aren’t you his wag??

user995 SOOOO PRETTYYYY 😍

mattbroome3 quick like norris quick like lando norris 🏎️🏎️

lando hey that’s me 🫢

mattbroome3 lando wait- twin… is that you?

yourusername don’t be slow stegosaurus..? 🏎️

yourusername mattbroome3 stfu 🙂

pietra.pilao missed opportunity to use sports car as the song 😪

yourusername YOURE SO RIGHT 🥲

user886 actually obsessed 😭😪

user930 ICONS

user765 so… anyone else think these two look cute together??

user176 no. that’s just you.

user004 hey so she has this really really cool bf and doesn’t enjoy being shipped with costars! hope this helps! 🙂

user032 go away.

lando some people shouldn’t have the internet.

yourusername NO THEY REALLY DONT 🙂

yourusername lando istg 😭😭

riabish actually best racing driver i’ve ever seen 🤷‍♀️

yourusername it’s true get me in that mclaren zbrownceo

lando yourusername hey so that’s my boss 🙂

yourusername lando i know 😊

user912 she’s gonna pull the race scene this season and race for lando 😭😭😭 ♥︎ by author

user321 ik this is a joke but pls could you IMAGINE 😭😭😭😭

user995 this photo is actually papaya’s lineup this season

user039 all i see is best driver ever and walmart lando 🏎️🏎️

user995 user039 WALMART LANDO IS CRAZY 😭😭

lando YOURE CRAZY IF YOURE NOT STREAMING THE SHIT OUT OF THIS MOVIE‼️‼️‼️‼️

yourusername guys… i think he might kinda like me 🤭🤭🤭

~~~

lando.jpg

🎵 Tate McRae • 2 Hands

Liked by lnfour and 255,890 others

lando.jpg movie star 🏎️

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user921 HE REMEMBERED THE PASSWORD TO SHOW OFF HIS GIRLFRIEND YASSSSS 😍😍

lnfour our favorite movie star!! ♥︎ by author

pietra.pilao the models hot can i have her number??

lando.jpg no.

yourusername yes 🤭

maxfewtrell yourusername you can’t steal my girlfriend!

user982 he remembered his password ‼️‼️‼️

user765 give her all the awards‼️ ♥︎ by author

primevideo movie star? or supermodel? 😍

yourusername omg 🤭🤭🤭

lando.jpg watch it 😒

quadrant we 🫶 YN

user254 coolest movie star in the world 😍😍

user087 my fault is such a good movie and YN slayyed 🤩

mattbroome3 omg guys twin posted‼️

yourusername STFU 😭😭😭

lando.jpg ITS MY TWIN ☺️☺️

maxfewtrell lando.jpg i thought i was your twin 🥲😕

user470 using 2 hands on a pic of his gf is so real 😭😭

user708 i love him for that tbh

user003 it’s fucking iconic 😭😭

user034 MOM AND DAD FRFR

user007 OBSESSED FAVORITE WAG TALENTED QUEEN 😍😍

user517 models are lucky YN chose acting and singing for a career cause DAMN 😍😍

user021 HONESTLY

lilyzneimer ITS MY FAVORITE RACING DRIVER YN LN 😍😍

yourusername FLATTERED AFFF 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

oscarpiastri this just… this just hurts 😕

lando.jpg damn that’s cold 😭😭

lilymhe mm real af mine too 🤭

alex_albon lilymhe OKAY—

yourusername AHH I LOOK GOOD 🤭🤭🤭🤭

lando.jpg YOU ALWAYS LOOK GOOD 😍😍😍😍

yourusername i love youuuuu this is so cutesyyyy 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

lando.jpg MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD TALENTED AMAZING BEAUTIFUL I LOVE YOU TOO 🥹🫶🫶

2K notes · View notes

kekewrites · 7 months ago

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tw. Dark content, noncon, dubcon, creampie, size kink, magic onahole/toy/fleshlight, coercion, mind-break, corruption, obsession, gaslighting(?), objectification(?)

part 2 of the onahole troupe

***

"Sweetie~ Are you already out? Come on, you can still keep going."

Hot... It's so hot.

Whining, your body continue to bounce on him, hole swallowing his fat cock. Sweat and cum staining your thighs, sticky and wet as it mixes with your juices.

Such a hot sight. His hands gripping your hips, helping you bounce on him and sometimes meeting your hips with his own, making you whine and sob.

You were so sensitive, having no idea how much time have passed. How many orgasm he pulled out of you.

"I'm helping you, remember?" He sat up, wrapping his arms around as he pulls you close. "Ha... You're so cute. That bastard won't touch you anymore, ok? I'm here."

Barely hanging on, you nodded as your ears started to ring. If there was still a rational part of you awake, you would've find his words suspicious, but you were just too dumb for that. Blindly trusting your friend, believing him with your being.

He promised to help you.

So why does it feel like you made the wrong choice?

That tiny rational thought of yours was pushed as you felt his lips on your own.

***

It was odd how the phantom disappeared after his help.

Your complexion improved, the shadows under your eyes fading as if the weight of their presence had been slowly draining you all along. Sleep came easier now, uninterrupted by restless nights and unwanted pleasure, able to focus studying without it whisking your attention away.

Sitting in class, you were finally able to listen without dreading for the touches.t was freeing.

You were glad you told him.

Smiling a bit, you open your cellphone as you think of hanging out with them. You really missed them, thinking about how you three rarely hang out nowadays. It used to be so easy to hang out with your closest friends, without having to plan anything elaborate. Just a quick text, and before you knew it, you were all together. But lately, it was about you two without your more or less busy friend. You know how much he took his studies seriously, often holding back to invite him whenever you discover a film you'd both like to watch.

Determined, you found yourself texting him, sending him a little message of, "Are you busy? Let's meet at the library when it's lunch time!"

You nervously shifted on your sit as you await his reply, a minute after you feel your phone vibrate.

"Sure."

You couldn't wait for the class to be over.

***

"Hey, what's up?" You heard his voice as he sat down beside you. Your usual hangout spot, comfort place, and your solace before those events happened.

Beaming, you turned to him, grateful for the simple presence of someone you're comfortable with.

"Are you done with your studies? I was hoping we could hangout soon, all three of us..." You speak, your confidence dipping down as you let out the last part.

Resting his chin on his hand, "Hmm... We have a quiz for next week in my major," He observes as your smile fades, "But I suppose, I'll make time for you," He swears it's like watching a dog wag its tail as he see you regain your smile.

It couldn't hurt to relax a little, it's been a while since you two hangout. He did notice how you were with that stupid guy in the past few days

You softly clap your hands, "That's great! Oh, we should do a movie marathon!" As you babble your plans, he couldn't help but notice how more... alive you look compared to before. He was still wondering why you were so troubled back then, but he's glad you got it solved out.

Humming, you started typing on the notes in your phone, making plans and listing movies to watch, throwing in snacks to buy as well. It was safe to say that you're really excited to be able to be with your best friends.

It would be just a fun night with the guys, right?

***

"Come on, don't be upset. Something probably important came out that he won't be able to come."

It seems that the three of you wouldn't be able to hangout, as the two of you sit on the couch.

Grumbling, you hug the couch pillow close to your chest as you glance at the text message left by your friend. It was upsetting but you couldn't be that upset since he rarely wasn't able to come in your hangout session, and since he's the one who helped you after all.

"Yeah, you're right. It can't be helped, I guess…" you sigh, trying to hide your disappointment as you sink further into his couch. The soft fabric and cozy atmosphere of his apartment help ease your mood a bit.

"I'm sure the three of us will meet up soon. Plus, the two of us haven't hangout for a while."

Come on, it's not so bad to be alone with him, you know?

"Yeah, that's true," you say, trying to shake off the disappointment. You steal a glance at him as he queues up a movie. It's been a while since the two of you just hung out alone like this, and despite the change in plans, it feels nice.

As the movie starts, you realize he accidentally picked a horror film—complete with dark shadows, creepy music, and plenty of jump scares. You’re both laughing it off at first, but the sudden shocks get you clutching the couch pillow a bit tighter, scooting unconsciously closer to him.

The atmosphere shifts when an unexpected scene appears—a moment that’s more... explicit than either of you anticipated. You feel your face heat up as you quickly avert your eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and tension settle between you. You catch him glancing away too, clearing his throat nervously.

What is he, five? Getting flustered with such scene, not like he hasn't done any worse than it.

"I... think I need to use the bathroom," he mumbles, standing up hastily and heading out of the room, leaving you alone on the couch.

You’re left there, pulse racing slightly as you try to shake off the awkwardness.

This is bad, you suddenly remember all of your other friend's help. Clutching your legs close, you try to avert your attention somewhere while waiting for your friend to come back.

Though, you felt your stomach drop as that familiar and unwelcome touch came up.

***

What the hell is he even thinking?

He tries to find his reason as he stares at the onahole on his hand, that idiot's gift to him. It's been a week since he had last use this thing, yeah it felt good and feels like the real deal but after one use he never touched it again.

So why the hell is he using it while thinking of you? The same girl who's sitting on his couch right now, in his apartment?

His eyes glance at the lube on the counter, putting the wet lotion on his free hand. It's your fault he got hard, you were too squirmy and... cute. That shitty horror movie wasn't even that good with the corny soft porn scenes but you... were just having an effect on him. So damn shy and innocent reactions, he needed to get out before he'd lost his composure and pounce on you.

But he's not a brute, no he isn't like those rabid animals.

Imagining does not count, no, no, he's only letting his frustration out.

So with the touch of his fingers, rubbing the entrance of the onahole he let himself go.

***

Jumping from the couch, you looked around frantically as you felt that horrifying touch on your nether region.

That's impossible! You though he already fixed it!

Silently crying on your hands, you tried to keep your noises.

You've experienced that ghostly touch countless times however this time, it felt a bit calculative yet desperate, as if another entity was touching you. It felt weird but you can feel how different this one was touching you.

Is there another ghost who's harassing you?

Will it ever go away?

You cried as you felt something big goes inside you.

***

Shit, he forgot how realistic this onahole was. When was the last time he used it? Weeks ago? He doesn't remember but he might use it again now. Since his darling is always inviting him to hangout, this little gift might save him from pouncing on you when you're just a little too cute for his liking. Not only that but because of the hectic projects and assignments coming in, he hasn't had the time to relieve himself.

His thrust is fast and uncaring, yet a bit desperate for release. He felt himself feeling more sensitive as he imagine if this was your cunt instead, squeezing and twitching around his cock. He loves how automated this thing was, his mind just running wild as he imagines you sitting alone in his couch unsuspected of his vulgar and filthy thought of you. It's wrong but it damn this onahole just feels so right.

Slamming himself on the tight hole, he pinch the little clit and felt the walls squeeze tight making him come undone. Hissing and twitching as his cock shoots down his massive load inside the toy. What a waste, it would've been better if he could shoot it down your womb. Exhaling, he slowly pulled out of the toy, savoring the way the wall clung on his shaft before his head pops off.

Fuck. He's really a goner now.

He's no better than a scumbag for letting his mind wander to thoughts about his best friend, his childhood friend… his first crush, his first and only love. He remembers how he was when you two first met—a boy who struggled to connect with anyone. He didn’t see the point in making friends, preferring to stay on the sidelines, reserved and detached.

Though, him, was the exception as both of their parents were business partners and have good relationship with each other. It's only natural for them to build a connection, solely for maintaining good connections with their business partners. Over time, he realized how strangely alike the two of them were, as if they shared the same quirks and preferences.

Well, he shouldn't think of that while thrusting his dick on a toy but he can't help but reflect on the way they are alike. He certainly knows, that guy shares the same affection he has on you, and he hated how he can't feel jealous because... he's fine with sharing you if it's him. But he's a little pissed at how you two were hanging out lately, he only have himself to blame by taking his studies seriously unlike that guy.

That's not important now, he has you in his room alone with no one else to ruin your moment with him. Shit, he felt the toy tighten around him.

His mind goes blank as he felt himself getting closer.

***

"Hey, sorry I took a while, but I'm... back?" he said, sitting down on the couch. His voice trailed off, quieter and confused, as he noticed you hugging yourself with your head hung low.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, placing a hand on your back as he tried to see your face. His eyes narrowed as he waited for your response, only to widen when he saw your tear-streaked face.

"I-It... touched me again..."

"What do you mean?"

And you broke down, crying as you told him about the phantom.

Any sane person would be skeptical, hell they would probably put you in the asylum for the things you swore happened to you. He'd get you help if it weren't for that one specific detail, an oddly timed and complete coincidence. Where that phantom touched you the same time he had gotten the toy... and the way it touch you just minutes later he went to the bathroom.

No way...

Surely, it was just a coincidence...

He supposed testing that theory wouldn't hurt.

With a lousy excuse of getting you a glass of water from the kitchen, he went straight to the bathroom to take that toy, sure it was big enough to be seen by you, but the way you were staring down on the floor as you quietly sob made it easy to sneakily place the onahole behind the couch pillow. Close for his hand to touch but unnoticeable from your teary eyes.

His hand goes behind the pillow right where the toy is.

"Ah!"

It can't be... Such an impossible story.

"J-Just now... it touched me!"

His finger went in.

"No! It went inside...!"

This is crazy.

He knows it's wrong but watching you panic and look around with frantic and terrified eyes made his cock throb. Not knowing that the source of your trouble being right in front of you made it immoral, so bad, and it made his cock harden.

"Hey, I'll... chase out that bastard for you." His wandering finger pulls out of the toy, his other hand cupping your tear stained cheek, "You don't have to worry anymore. You said that guy made that phantom disappear, right?" He sweetly cooed, a rare tone in his voice, "Just trust me on this one like he'd done with you, yeah?"

Your back gently hits the couch as he straddles you, "Be a good girl and relax, I'm just going to help you."

Doubt and wariness swirls in that doe eyes of yours. He can see the uncertainty in that stupid head of yours, but he knew you'd agree with him. You always do.

"O-Ok... Please help me."

And he's right about that.

You're just too trusting, aren't you? Stupid girl.

It's your fault he's like this to you.

All your fault.

There’s a faint metallic click as his belt buckle comes undone, and the soft rasp of fabric follows as he frees himself from his pants. His cock springs free, the swollen head brushing against your inner thigh. He can't believe he's finally doing this. The girl he ever wanted right beneath him, all bare and for him to ruin.

It's fucked up how he doesn't feel guilty for doing this, doesn't feel guilty as he rubs his tip on your wet entrance. Everything about you is soft, the only thing he's afraid to do is to bruise your pretty skin. He can feel your breathe quicken, you heart thumping in anxiety and he smiles at that.

"I'll be... gentle." For now.

The blunt head nudges against your entrance, the slick heat of your hole enveloping him inch by inch as he presses into you slowly. Fuck. It's completely different from a toy. He wished he'd done it sooner, the walls of your inside and the wall of the toy was like night and day. His cock pulses within them, the heat and tightness driving him to the edge of his patience. Hissing in pleasure as your walls clenched around him.

"So cute..."

With that, he leaned down, his lips pressing against you. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you, owning you, just as his cock claimed your body. He knows he should let you adjust and wait for you to be ready but hell he'd wait for more than a second. Setting a fast pace, fucking into you with abandon, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises-- the one he was dreaded on doing. He panted, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

If it were that easy, he should've done this sooner. Manipulated that stupid head of yours, your naivety being the one who'd get you in trouble when you were younger.

It was different back then when he was alone. Socializing was unnecessary and draining, didn't have any purpose or value to him. He supposed having one friend is enough, he didn’t have patience for others, especially kids his age who, to him, seemed immature and exhausting.

Then you came along with your bright smile, bold laugh, and endearing quirks. You weren’t stunning or wealthy, and your background was humble—a stark contrast to his world. And yet, every time you called him by that silly nickname you made up, something in his chest stirred, an ache he couldn’t ignore. A foolish girl, treating him as if he were just another friend, another kid to play with.

So why can’t he push you away? You're just like any other kid who wants his attention. So why is it so hard to say no to you?

You're the one driving him crazy. So you only have yourself to blame, this is only happening because you're letting him. You're the one doing this to your self.

He could feel the pleasure building, the pressure in his balls as he neared his release.

"Be my onahole, ok?" He demanded, his voice rough with lust. He needed to hear you say it, needed to know that you understood.

Your mind was swirling, head foggy as the pleasure was starting to mix with the confusion. As your cries grew louder, body writhing beneath him, he felt his own orgasm approaching. He could feel the heat building, the tingling in his toes as his balls drew up tight.

O-Onahole? What's that? What is he talking about?

"Everyday, you'll be my onahole." he panted, his words punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the obscene squelch of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy. "I'll save you from that phantom, ok?"

I don't know anything....

"Ok?!" he warns, hips losing their rhythm as his climax approaches, "Shit...!"

"Ah! I-I will! I'll become your onahole!"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep in your womb. He holds you tight against his chest, grinding into you to prolong the waves of pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so good for me," He praises breathlessly, peppering your sweat-dampened neck with kisses. "Taking my cock so well, milking me dry. That phantom is gone now that I'm with you."

All you could feel was the light kisses trailing on your neck to your cheek and finally on your lips.

"One more time? I mean you are my onahole now."

***

"Wow, you didn't hold one bit eh?"

His eyes narrowed as he saw him standing on the door with a smug grin.

"What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be able to make it?" His tone accessory as he cleans up the aftermath, gently tucking in your passed out figure on the bed.

"So defensive for what?" He chuckles, sauntering as he glance at your peaceful fresh-fucked face. Such a lovely sight. He licks his lips at that but for now you'd need to get your beauty rest after a rough day. "So, did 'ya like your present?"

"..."

"I'd take your silence as a yes then." Giggling, he places his hand on his shoulder, "I knew you'd like it I mean, we are similar in taste after all."

His jaw tightens before sighing in defeat, "Where did you even get that toy?"

"Oh, some shady website~! I was planning to buy another one but the website mysteriously disappeared!" He exaggerate his movements which earned a grimace from him.

"Shut up, you'll wake her up."

"No, she won't. You made her pass out, how ungentlemanly of you."

"Says you."

"Whatever, I came to ask you a question," His hand drop to his side, his smug smile still on but something sinister behind it, "So, we're going to share, right?"

The answer should've been obvious but it was hard to let the word out of his mouth. Was it pride or possession?

"Yeah..."

"I knew you'd say that."

"But I want her on Mondays."

"Oh brother, why pick the worst day?" He grunts in disappointment.

"Because it's the worst day, I need her on that day."

2K notes · View notes

mrsfancyferrari · 5 months ago

Note

Hey I hope you've having an amazing day/evening/night. This is my first time requesting something😅, and I was wondering if you could possibility write something like what you did with my type but the reader having natural auburn curly hair, with freckles thinking that she's not his type or something along those lines.

Gold in Snow

Summary: you and lando are in a relationship but you're reserving hate comments about you being a ginger, with freckles because the fans don't think you're his type

Song: Golden Hour · JVKE

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Another podium finish for Lando, another shower of champagne soaking his expensive suit. You watched from the relative calm of the garage, a small smile playing on your lips.

He looked genuinely happy, and that, more than anything, made the constant noise and pressure of Formula 1 palatable.

You’d been dating Lando Norris for almost a year now. A year of stolen moments, whispered secrets in hotel rooms, and navigating the chaotic whirlwind that was his life. A year of pure bliss…mostly.

The “mostly” came in the form of comment sections. Forums. Twitter threads dedicated to dissecting every pixel of your existence and comparing it to the accepted prototype of a WAG – Wives and Girlfriends – in the F1 world.

You were… different.

They’d say it with a thinly veiled, almost clinical detachment, but the message was always the same: you didn’t fit. You were too… ginger. Too freckled. Too… you.

The ginger part bothered them the most. Lando was a global superstar, practically sculpted from marble, with a smile that could melt glaciers. He was everything they wanted him to be: conventionally attractive, charming, and effortlessly cool.

And you? You were… well, very, very pale. Your hair was a fiery halo, and your skin was dotted with a constellation of freckles that bloomed fiercer in the summer sun.

“He likes the exotic look,” one comment had sniped. “She’s probably got a killer tan when she’s not hiding in the shade.”

You’d chuckled then, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach your heart. Exotic? You’d spent your life battling sunburns and jokes about having no soul.

And killer tan? Honey, you burned so fast, lifeguards would start applying sunscreen just by looking at you.

You tried to ignore it. Lando certainly seemed to. He showered you with affection, praised your quick wit and sharp mind, and constantly reminded you how beautiful he found you, flaws and all.

But the insidious comments burrowed under your skin, planting seeds of doubt that you desperately tried to weed out.

You saw him heading towards the garage now, adrenaline still buzzing through him. His eyes found yours, and that signature Lando grin spread across his face. Your heart did that familiar little flip.

“Hey!” he said, pulling you into a hug. He smelled of champagne and victory. “Did you see that last overtake? Unbelievable!”

You laughed, burying your face in his still-damp fire suit. “Yes, I saw it. You were amazing, as always. Just try not to spray me next time, okay?”

He pulled back, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You seem… quiet.”

You forced a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. “Well, we’re flying back tomorrow morning. We can just chill in the hotel tonight. Order some room service, maybe watch a movie?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, meaning it. Just the two of you, away from the cameras and the judgment.

That night, as you lay in his arms in the dimly lit hotel room, the familiar ache in your chest returned. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow… undeserving.

“Lando?” you whispered, the sound barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled into your hair.

“Do you… do you ever read the comments? About us?”

He stiffened slightly. “I try not to. You know how toxic that can be.”

“But you do read them, right? Sometimes?”

He sighed, a heavy sound that vibrated against your chest. “Okay, yeah, sometimes. But I don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just… noise.”

“Noise that says I’m not good enough for you.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours in the dimness. “What? That’s ridiculous. Who says that?”

“Everyone. Online, anyway. They don’t think I’m your type. They think I’m… too ginger. Too freckled. Too… plain.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. “Hey. Look at me. You are absolutely stunning. Inside and out. You are intelligent, funny, kind, and you have the most beautiful smile in the world. And yes,” he added with a mischievous grin, “I also happen to think your hair is gorgeous, and your freckles are like little constellations scattered across your skin. They’re unique, just like you.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “But they say…”

“They say a lot of things. People are always going to have opinions. But their opinions don’t matter. Only mine does. And I think you are perfect.”

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that chased away the doubts, at least for a moment.

But even as you melted into him, a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of your mind: He’s just saying that. He has to say that.

The knot in your stomach tightened with each passing day, each new photo plastered across social media. You and Lando, laughing at a restaurant, holding hands at the airport, just being normal.

What shouldn't have been a cause for concern, was. It should have been a happy bubble of romance, but it was quickly becoming a breeding ground for anxiety, a place where your insecurities festered and grew.

Because under each picture, nestled amongst the supportive comments and heart emojis, they lurked. The whispers, the not-so-subtle digs.

"He could do so much better." "She's not even his type." "Another generic influencer." And the worst of it? "Ginger + Freckles = No."

You knew it was irrational. Lando loved you. He told you every day, showed you in a million little ways, from the way he held your hand to the way he looked at you with genuine adoration.

But the internet had a way of burrowing into your brain, planting seeds of doubt that blossomed into thorny vines. You found yourself scrutinizing your reflection, picking apart every freckle, every strand of your fiery hair.

Was it too much? Was it enough? Were you enough?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Lando's voice startled you, pulling you back from the precipice of your spiral. He was standing in the doorway of your shared flat, his racing helmet tucked under his arm, a familiar mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"Just thinking about this weekend," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Excited for the snow."

"Me too! Max and Steve are already counting down the hours. You're coming to the slopes tomorrow, right?"

You hesitated. "I… I have something I need to do in the morning. I'll meet you guys up there later, okay?"

Lando frowned, his blue eyes searching yours. "Everything alright, love? You seem a bit off."

"I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just… a doctor's appointment. Nothing serious. I'll explain later. Promise."

He didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to push. "Alright. Just text me when you're on your way. Drive safe.”

He kissed your forehead, the warmth of his touch a brief comfort against the chill that had settled within you and left.

The next morning, the drive to the snow mountains felt endless. Each mile was another step closer to the potential storm brewing in your head.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous, that you were letting faceless strangers dictate your feelings. But the seed of doubt had been planted, watered, and was now taking root.

When you finally arrived at the ski resort, the crisp mountain air did little to soothe your nerves. You walked into the reception area, the scent of pine and hot chocolate thick in the air.

"Name?" the receptionist asked, her eyes glued to the computer screen.

"It's… uh… Y/L/N, party of Lando Norris."

The receptionist's fingers clicked across the keyboard, and she looked up, a polite professional smile gracing her lips. "Ah, yes. Mr. Norris's party. You're all set. Here's your lift pass. Your equipment rental is just through those doors. Have a wonderful day."

You collected your ski boots and poles from the rental shop, the familiar weight grounding you slightly. You'd been skiing since you were a kid, practically born on the slopes.

It was one of the few places you felt truly free, truly yourself.

You strapped on your skis and headed towards the main lift, scanning the crowd for a flash of Lando's familiar McLaren Racing beanie or the boisterous laughter of Max and Steve.

The lift carried you higher and higher, the view expanding to reveal a breathtaking panorama of snow-covered peaks and pristine valleys.

For a moment, the internet, the comments, the doubts, all faded away. You breathed in the crisp air, feeling the thrill of anticipation course through you.

As you reached the top, you spotted them. Lando, grinning and waving, Max, already carving down the slope with reckless abandon, and Steve, carefully navigating the beginner trail.

You took a deep breath, pushed off, and let gravity do its work. The wind whipped through your hair, the sun glinted off the snow, and for the first time that day, you felt a genuine smile spread across your face.

You were good. Really good. You weaved and turned, carving graceful arcs in the powder, your ginger hair a vibrant streak against the white landscape. You glided past other skiers, feeling the rush of adrenaline as you navigated the slopes with practiced ease.

You found yourself on a black diamond run, moguls stretching out before you like frozen waves. This was where you belonged, where you felt alive. You took a deep breath and launched yourself into the challenge, navigating the bumps and dips with precision and skill.

Suddenly, you heard a whoop of excitement and a familiar voice. "Wow, check out the ginger ninja!"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple of guys, clearly impressed by your skiing skills.

You grinned, threw them a wink, and continued your descent, the compliment a small spark of warmth against the doubt that still lingered.

The crisp mountain air bit at Lando’s cheeks, painting them a matching shade to the gaudy orange ski suit Max insisted he wear. He shifted his weight from one ski boot to the other, impatience radiating off him in visible waves.

He’d been waiting at the base of the slope for what felt like an eternity. Max was already halfway up the mountain for his third run. Steve was content to nurse a lukewarm hot chocolate and offer unsolicited advice on Lando’s form, despite the fact Lando hadn't even put his skis on yet.

"She's taking her time," Steve commented, taking another careful sip. "Probably intimidated by the black runs."

Lando rolled his eyes, though fondness softened the gesture. He knew you weren't intimidated by anything. This was more than likely your first time on the slopes, so you were probably taking it easy.

You were a natural athlete, thriving on competition, but you’d also confessed, with a sheepish grin, that skiing looked deceptively easy on TV.

He was about to tell Steve as much when Steve suddenly straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, there's your girl!"

Lando spun around, instantly forgetting the cold, the wait, and Steve’s irritating commentary. He searched the throng of skiers snaking down the slope, his heart doing a little skip. And then he saw you.

You moved with a surprising grace, your skis carving effortless arcs in the snow. Sunlight caught in your fiery red hair, turning it into a cascade of glittering copper. Each freckle seemed to dance on your skin, illuminated by the mountain sun.

He knew, objectively, that you were beautiful. He saw it every day. But seeing you now, flushed with exertion and radiant with joy, took his breath away.

He froze, utterly captivated, as you approached. You navigated the final stretch with smooth confidence. “Show off,” he muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You slowed to a stop, kicking up a spray of snow just inches from his boots.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, laughing. You pushed your goggles up onto your forehead, revealing eyes the color of warm honey. "Sorry! How long have you been waiting?"

Your cheeks were rosy, your breath misting in the cold air. Lando stared, speechless.

"Baby? What's wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing with concern. You reached out, your ungloved hand gently touching his cheek. The cold stung, but he barely noticed.

He swallowed, his voice a low rasp. "You're beautiful."

The words were a whisper, almost lost in the wind. He hadn’t meant to say it so abruptly, so…exposed. But the sight of you, framed by the snow-covered peaks, had rendered him incapable of coherent thought.

Your eyes widened slightly, and a blush bloomed on your cheeks, a delicate counterpoint to the healthy glow of the mountain air. "Lando," you said softly, "you okay? Are you coming down with something?"

He blinked, shaking himself slightly. "No, I'm fine. More than fine, actually. You just…you look incredible."

Steve coughed pointedly beside him. Max, having apparently teleported from the top of the mountain, snickered. Lando shot them both a warning glare. They knew how self-conscious you were, especially around his racing colleagues.

The comments section of his social media had been a cesspool ever since you two became public. Hateful words about your appearance, thinly veiled as concerned opinions that you weren’t “his type,” were a constant, ugly background noise.

He knew it bothered you, even though you tried to brush it off with a laugh and a casual, "Haters gonna hate." But he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.

He hated those comments, hated the people who wrote them, and hated that they had the power to make you feel anything less than extraordinary.

He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Ignore them," he said, his voice firm, his gaze locked on yours.

You looked confused. "Ignore who? Max and Steve?"

"Everyone," he said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "Anyone who makes you feel like you're anything less than perfect. Because you are. Perfect. Just the way you are."

The blush on your cheeks deepened, and you ducked your head slightly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "You're sweet," you mumbled. "But I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea."

"Good," Lando said fiercely. "You're mine. And that's all that matters." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring Max's exaggerated gagging noises.

He pulled back and met your gaze, his expression serious. "Listen to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful, or that you're not good enough, or that you don't belong. Because they're wrong. They’re absolutely, unequivocally wrong. You’re amazing, inside and out. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re fiercely intelligent, and yes, you’re unbelievably beautiful. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you."

A tear, born of emotion and the biting wind, escaped your eye. "You're going to make me cry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Good," Lando said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "Let them see you cry. Let them see how real and how beautiful you are. Don't hide anything. Don't let anyone dim your light."

He knew his words were bold, maybe even a little cheesy, but he meant every single one of them. He wanted you to know, deep down, that he saw you, truly saw you, and that nothing anyone said would ever change that.

Max, surprisingly, had stopped snickering. He clapped Lando on the shoulder. "Alright, mate, enough with the declarations of love. Let's hit the slopes. Before I get frostbite."

Steve nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Lando. You can gush later. Right now, let’s see if your girl’s got what it takes.” He winked at you. “No pressure.”

You smiled, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Pressure is my middle name," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's go."

Lando grinned, relieved to see the familiar spark back in your eyes. He squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

He watched as you adjusted your goggles and clicked your poles into the snow. He felt a surge of pride watching you. He knew the comments would still be there, lurking in the shadows of the internet, waiting to pounce.

But he also knew that you were strong. You were resilient. And you had him.

He grabbed his own skis, a newfound confidence coursing through him. He would protect you, always. But more than that, he would celebrate you, every freckle, every fiery strand of hair, every brilliant facet of your being.

As you pushed off, gracefully navigating the gentle slope, Lando felt a lightness in his heart that had nothing to do with the altitude. He knew, without a doubt, that their love story was just beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.

He followed you down the slope, his orange ski suit a beacon against the white snow. He caught up to you easily, skiing alongside you, matching your pace.

"So," he said, grinning mischievously. "Think you can keep up with me, ginger?"

You laughed, a bright, joyful sound that echoed through the mountains. "Try me, Papaya boy."

And with that, you kicked it up a notch, leaving Lando in your snowy wake.

He laughed, his heart soaring.

He pushed off, determined to catch up, knowing that even if he never did, he would be perfectly content just to chase you, forever. . . .

The papaya coloured dress hung on you, a vibrant splash of sunshine in the sterile white bathroom. It was Lando’s favourite colour, or so he claimed. He said it reminded him of McLaren, of speed, of… you.

But all you could see in the mirror was a canvas of imperfections.

Your reflection stared back, a stranger dissected and judged. The fiery red hair, usually a source of pride, now felt like a neon sign screaming "OUT OF PLACE."

The constellation of freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks, tiny sun-kissed stars Lando often traced with his fingertip, seemed like blemishes, flaws magnified under the harsh bathroom light.

The original plan, a simple elegance of no-makeup and loose waves, lay discarded. You'd envisioned a carefree evening, a confident entrance with Lando by your side.

Now, the thought of facing the public, the prying eyes, the inevitable whispers, felt like climbing a mountain of anxiety.

Social media had been a minefield lately. Ever since your relationship with Lando Norris became public, the comment sections had become a breeding ground for toxicity. Most were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating your love.

But a persistent undercurrent of negativity gnawed at your confidence. The "fans," or rather, the internet trolls masquerading as them, were relentless.

“She’s not his type.”

“He could do so much better.”

“Ginger? Really? He's lowering his standards.”

The worst were the comments picking apart your appearance. The freckles, the hair, the perceived lack of "glamour." They painted you as an anomaly, someone who didn't belong in Lando's world. It was absurd, of course.

Lando loved you for you. He told you every day. But the insidious nature of online hate was that it seeped in, whispering doubts in your ear when you were most vulnerable.

Tonight, facing a McLaren party filled with glamorous personalities and industry insiders, the doubts had reached a crescendo. You grabbed a tissue from the dispenser, dabbing at the corners of your eyes, fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry.

The reflection in the mirror blurred, the colours swam, and the vibrant papaya felt like a mocking reminder of everything you weren't.

That’s when you heard the familiar click of the front door.

“Y/n?” Lando’s voice echoed through the house, a warm, comforting sound that momentarily cut through the anxiety clouding your mind.

Panic seized you. You couldn't let him see you like this, a mess of insecurities and mascara-smeared cheeks. You needed to compose yourself, to build up a façade of confidence before facing him.

Quickly, you turned the small lock on the bathroom door. The click was loud in the sudden silence.

“Y/n?” he called again, his voice closer now. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just… just getting ready,” you managed, trying to inject a lightness into your tone that felt utterly fake. Your voice wavered, betraying your true state. “I’ll be out in a second.”

You heard him pause outside the door. “You sure? You sound… different.”

He knew you too well. He always did. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Just a bit of a headache. Nothing serious.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken concern. You could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softening. “But don’t rush. I’m happy to wait. Do you want me to get you some water?”

His thoughtfulness, his unwavering care, only made the guilt swell inside you. He was so genuine, so supportive, and here you were, hiding from him, consumed by the petty insecurities fueled by strangers on the internet.

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, a little too quickly. “Just… give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. You heard him move away from the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning against the cool porcelain of the sink. This couldn’t go on. You couldn't let these hateful comments dictate your life, dictate your relationship.

Lando deserved better. You deserved better.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the cold tap, splashing water on your face. You grabbed a towel and gently patted your skin dry, removing the remnants of your almost-attempted makeup.

You looked at yourself again, really looked.

The fiery hair, the freckles, the flaws… they were all part of you. They were what made you unique, what made you you. And Lando loved you for it. He saw beauty where others saw imperfections.

He saw strength where others saw vulnerability. Why were you letting the opinions of anonymous strangers outweigh the love and adoration of the man you adored?

You let out a shaky sigh, a weight lifting from your shoulders. It wasn't a complete cure, the insecurities wouldn't vanish overnight, but it was a start.

With newfound resolve, you took another look at the papaya dress. It shimmered under the light, a vibrant symbol of sunshine and joy. You smoothed the fabric down, a small smile gracing your lips.

You unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out.

Lando was standing in the living room, fiddling with his phone. He looked up as you entered, his face immediately lighting up. He was wearing a simple dark suit, impeccably tailored, but it was the genuine warmth in his eyes that truly caught your attention.

He took a step towards you, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. The smile widened.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice laced with admiration. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blushed, the compliment genuine and heartfelt. “Thank you.”

He closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, tracing the familiar pattern of your freckles.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. “You seemed a bit… off earlier.”

You hesitated, the urge to brush it off still lingering. But you knew you couldn't hide from him. He deserved the truth.

“I… I saw some comments online,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “About… about me. About not being ‘your type.’”

His expression darkened, his eyes hardening with anger. “Don’t you dare listen to those people, Y/n,” he said fiercely, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

“They don’t know anything. My ‘type’ is someone who is kind, intelligent, funny, and beautiful, inside and out. Someone who makes me laugh every single day. Someone who challenges me and supports me, even when I’m being an idiot. That’s you, Y/n. That's always been you."

He paused, his gaze searching yours, making sure you understood the sincerity of his words.

"And as for the… the physical stuff," he continued, his voice softening again. "Your hair is the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen. Your freckles are like little constellations, guiding me through the darkness. And that little dimple you get when you smile? Drives me absolutely crazy."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough, Y/n. Because to me, you are perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude, of love.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you, Lando,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his jacket.

He held you tight, his arms a comforting embrace. “I love you too, Y/n. More than you know.”

After a long moment, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you.

Lando was right. You couldn't let the negativity of others define you. You had his love, his support, and that was all that mattered.

You looked at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go to this party?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Absolutely. And just so you know, I'm planning on spending the entire night showing you off to everyone. They need to see how lucky I am."

He took your hand in his, his fingers interlacing with yours. As you walked out the door together, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.

The haters could say what they wanted. You had Lando, you had your love, and that was more than enough. The papaya dress suddenly felt like armour, not a target.

You were ready to face the world, hand in hand, imperfections and all. . . .

The party was exactly what you expected: loud music, flashing lights, and a sea of familiar faces from the F1 world – drivers, team principals, engineers, and their partners.

The sheer volume of people made your anxiety prickle, but Lando kept a firm grip on your hand, navigating you through the crowd.

He introduced you to what felt like a hundred people, his arm possessively around your waist, his smile beaming. You tried to focus on the conversations, to be witty and engaging, but the whispers seemed to follow you, phantom echoes of the comments haunting your mind.

“Lando’s with her?”

“She’s… different.”

“Not exactly what I expected.”

You squeezed Lando’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself. He seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, his attention solely focused on you.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the music.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s… great.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching. He knew you better than anyone, and he could see the forced cheerfulness masking your discomfort.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “If you want to leave, we can. We don’t have to stay here.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here. With you.”

He smiled, relieved. "Okay, but seriously, if you change your mind, just say the word."

Just then, a tall, lanky figure approached, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Lando! Mate, good to see you.”

“Oscar!” Lando clapped him on the back. “Good to see you too. Oscar, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar offered you his hand, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to gauge his expression. Was there judgment there? Pity? You couldn’t tell. “Likewise, Oscar. Congratulations on your season so far.”

“Thanks,” he said, his smile genuine. "It's been... interesting, to say the least." He paused, then gestured to a woman standing beside him. "And this is my girlfriend, Lily."

Lily stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. She had kind eyes and a simple elegance that immediately put you at ease. "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N. Lando talks about you all the time."

You blushed, glancing at Lando, who just winked. "All good things, I hope?"

Lily laughed. "Of course! He's completely smitten."

The four of you fell into easy conversation, discussing the season, the pressures of being in the spotlight, and the challenges of maintaining relationships in such a demanding environment.

You found yourself relaxing, the tension slowly draining away. Lily was refreshingly down-to-earth, and Oscar, despite his reserved demeanour, had a dry wit that you found endearing.

As the conversation flowed, you noticed Lily subtly steer the topic towards your interests, asking about your work, your hobbies, and your passions.

She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, not just as Lando’s girlfriend, but as an individual.

“So, Y/N” Lily said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “Lando tells me you’re a writer? That’s fascinating! What kind of writing do you do?”

“I dabble in a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling your confidence grow. “Short stories, poetry, some freelance journalism. It depends on what sparks my interest, really.”

“That’s amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve always admired people who can write. It’s such a powerful way to express yourself.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “It is. I’m useless at it. Give me a steering wheel any day.”

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, your earlier anxieties fading into the background. You were having a genuine, enjoyable conversation, with people who seemed to genuinely care about you.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. “Lando, darling! There you are!”

A woman, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes, glided towards you, her eyes scanning you from head to toe with blatant disapproval. You recognized her as the wife of a prominent team principal, a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper judgment.

Lando’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face her. “Genevieve, good to see you.”

She completely ignored Oscar and Lily, her gaze fixed on you. “And who is this, Lando? A new… acquaintance?”

You felt your cheeks flush, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. You knew what was coming.

Lando’s arm tightened around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “This is your girlfriend? How… interesting.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Well, congratulations, darling. I’m sure you’re very happy.”

She turned back to Lando, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lando, darling, you really could do so much better. Don't you want to think about your image?”

You felt your heart sink. This was it. The moment of truth. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of negativity.

But then, something unexpected happened. Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, and his grip on your waist tightened protectively.

“I’m perfectly happy, thank you,” he said, his voice cold and firm. “And Y/N is more than enough. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

He turned his back on the woman, effectively dismissing her. He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still reeling from the encounter. “Yeah,” you mumbled. "I'm okay

Lily stepped forward, her expression fierce. “Honestly, some people are just ridiculous,” she said, her voice laced with scorn. “Don’t let her get to you, Y/N. She’s just jealous.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s got nothing better to do than spread negativity. Ignore her.”

Lando squeezed your hand. “They’re right. Don’t let her ruin your night.”

You looked at them, at Lando, at Lily, at Oscar. You saw genuine support, genuine kindness, genuine acceptance. And suddenly, the weight on your chest lifted. The comments, the whispers, the judgment – they didn’t matter.

You had people who loved you, who supported you, who valued you for who you were, not for who the internet thought you should be.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not going to let her ruin my night.”

Lando grinned, relieved. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we get out of here and go somewhere more… private?” He winked suggestively.

Lily laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Oscar, you’re driving, right? I’ve had one too many cocktails.”

As you walked away, hand in hand with Lando, you glanced back at Lily and Oscar, a warm feeling of gratitude washing over you. You had found unexpected allies, people who saw past the surface and appreciated you for who you were.

You were still an outsider, still a ginger with freckles, still not “his type” according to the internet. But tonight, surrounded by love and support, you didn’t care. You had Lando, you had friends, and you had the courage to be yourself.

And that, you realised, was more than enough. The papaya dress no longer felt like armour, but a symbol of your strength, your resilience, and your unwavering commitment to being true to yourself.

You were you and you were happy. . . .

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername and 867,879 others

landonorris

Happy anniversary to my beautiful girl. Two years. Two years of laughter, adventures, and learning to love you more fiercely every single day. I know the internet can be a dark place, especially for someone as radiant as you. Don't listen to anyone who talks about you bad, especially those whispering nonsense about "types." They see a snapshot; I see the whole damn masterpiece.

Your fiery hair is sunshine on a cloudy day, each freckle a tiny star mapping out the constellation of my heart. They don't see the intelligence that sparkles in your eyes, the quick wit that keeps me on my toes, or the unwavering kindness you show to everyone you meet. They don’t see you. You are everything I could ever want, and more than I ever deserve. So, happy anniversary, my love. Let's keep painting our world with joy, ignoring the noise, and celebrating the beautiful, unique you. I love you more than words can say. ❤️

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salem-s · 3 months ago

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03 ── PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN (18+) ── RAFE CAMERON

SYNOPSIS when your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron ─ your friends with benefits ─ in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin's upcoming wedding in Italy, and spirals even further when he says yes. SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

WARNINGS language, fingering, nudity, p-in-v sex, mentions of body insecurity, unhealthy eating habits, and parental induced insecurity. 18+ mdni.

WORD COUNT 7.7k. no comment.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER sunshine by steve lacy, fousheé

When you wake, Rafe isn’t in bed.

You have a brief moment of panic, but your mind eases when Po sits a foot away from your face, looking at you curiously with a low purr and slow blink. Sleepily, you bring your hand up to pet him, to which he nuzzles right in as if he's been waiting for your attention for hours.

This is a nice wake up call, you figure.

Taking in your surroundings, you notice Rafe’s bed is neatly made, which is odd in itself since he usually just throws a blanket hazardously over his sheets, and his suitcase is laying open on the floor. A laugh rises to your throat when you notice a Po-sized indent on his clothes in the bag.

The culprit simply continues purring, relishing in the attention. The bed is warm and the cat’s making it even cozier, and the urge to stay right here is sky high.

But you're craving a coffee and the sun beaming through the curtains reminds you of the beautiful day ahead. So you scoop Po up under your arm and swing your legs over the bed, wincing at the cold tile against your bare feet. The door’s been left ajar, but regardless you slip through easily.

You stalk through the quiet cottage, smiling when you see Lorenza sitting in the living room with a coffee as she stares out the window to the yard, sun beaming through the tall windows and accenting the blue walls a few shades lighter than normal.

“Buongiorno,” you say sleepily, yawning. “Dormi bene?”

Lorenza nods without taking her gaze away from the window, a knowing smile etched on her lips that's targeted at whatever she's observing in the yard. You stand behind her, and curiously look up to follow her gaze.

The sight is overwhelmingly endearing when you see Rafe outside with Ticino playing fetch.

Judging by the glee on his face, it's like he’s enjoying it more than the dog himself.

The shetland-sheepdog has the craziest energy levels you've ever seen in a dog, and it’s proving that right now as Rafe continuously throws the ball, further and further each time. Ticino retrieves it and sprints back with more and more energy every throw, tail wagging passionately fierce.

Rafe says a command to the dog, to which Ticino drops the ball and obediently waits for him to throw it, and the cycle continues.

The grin on Rafe’s face is comparable to a kid on Christmas.

“Ho insegnato la parole ‘lascia’ a lui,” Lorenza murmurs teasingly. “Ha giocato per un'ora." (I taught the word ‘drop’ to him. He's been playing for an hour.)

You hum, not trusting your voice.

Instead, you turn and head to the kitchen to brew yourself a fresh pot of coffee. Distractedly, you don't even have the thought process to take any milk with it as you tiptoe back into the living room, selfishly wanting to catch another moment of Rafe’s little act.

You're no better than the next person, because frankly you'd be an idiot not to watch.

Like a rightful creep.

You sit on the seat adjacent to Lorenza, both of you simply ogling at this scene in the yard. Po meows quietly as he jumps in your lap, wanting to continue his head scratches from earlier. You abide by his terms, alternating between sipping your coffee, petting the cat, and trying to disregard the rapid thump of your heartbeat at the sight of Rafe's biceps.

How dare he.

It doesn’t help that ten minutes later, Rafe enters the house all sweaty and glistening that you have to focus really hard on your coffee or on gazing solely into his eyes to refrain from looking further down...

If your gaze drops any lower, he’ll definitely make fun of you.

And that's proving correct when he smirks at you deliberately not looking at him below the chin, and it only pisses you off further. To push his luck even more, he intentionally sparks up conversation with Lorenza, to which she forces you to translate, trapping you in the room for longer than you'd like.

When Rafe crosses his arms and purposefully bulges his biceps, you nearly scoff.

Lorenza packs a few sandwiches and homemade arancini for the beach while you both get dressed. To avoid climbing him like a tree (or showing that you'd like to), you linger in the living room and nurse your coffee as you wait for Rafe to change, not wanting to seem entirely desperate as your thoughts tell you to jump him like there’s no tomorrow.

Even though he can probably already tell.

He unabashedly takes his time, strolling out of the bedroom ten minutes later in a simple t-shirt and his bathing suit with a backpack slung over his shoulder. Sunglasses perch on the bridge of his nose as he narrows his gaze, ducking his head low and meeting yours with his piercing blue eyes. You rush past him with a traditional eye-roll and shut the bedroom door, changing into your suit and gathering your items for the day.

You two trek on the dirt path quietly. You sling a tote bag over your shoulder that holds a towel and a book while Rafe carries the backpack with his towel and lunch. The silence is comfortable as you take in the sight before you, relishing in the summer-like breeze as you desperately try to ignore the tingle on your skin every time Rafe’s arm brushes against yours on accident.

Or at least you hope it’s an accident.

You stride a little ahead of him, ignoring his piercing gaze on the back of your head as you try to relax. This is a beautiful walk, your favorite kind of walk, and you want to relish in the sights as much as you can as you descend closer and closer to your most prized spot.

After about twenty minutes of silent strolling (or more so silent on your part, with the occasional random question from him that either has you scolding him or ignoring him altogether), the two of you reach the bottom of the hill and enter town. A few people walk past you towards the more public part of the rocky beach, but you diverge from the crowds and slip through a man-made path between two trees, Rafe following your every step.

You can’t help but grin when you see your favorite spot approaching in the distance, and sigh in relief when you notice no one has discovered it.

Yet.

The nostalgia hits you at once, and you find yourself talking before you can stop it once you breach through the trees and emerge into the open cove.

“I discovered this spot my freshman year of high school. I used to come here almost everyday in the summer.”

Stopping on the rocky beach, you slip off your sneakers, socks, and tote bag and walk to the edge of the water, the gentle laps kissing your feet. As if it cures you of any negative weight, you sigh at the feeling. Like you're home.

Rafe follows your motion silently, soon standing right next to you and feeling the crystal blue water as well. You feels his gaze on you, patiently waiting for you to keep talking.

Despite the nagging feeling of not wanting to reveal too much, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“I loved it because my mom could never find me,” you continue softly, looking out onto the horizon. “Paulette never really cared for this place, this town, these people. She always came on the yearly trip with me and my dad to say she's been to Italy, but never as a courtesy to Lorenza, who practically raised my dad when she lived in the States. So we fought a lot on what Paulette wanted us to do, and vice versa."

You look down at your feet, pushing around some small rocks with your toes. His stare burns in your peripheral.

"She always wanted to get out of here and go to the touristy spots, mainly so she could post the trip on Facebook, or whatever. It was always Milan this, or Rome that."

You snort humorlessly at the memories of Paulette frowning in disgust at the more rural areas.

It only makes you scoff gently. "But me? I wanted to stay with Lorenza. Practice my Italian. Learn what it’s like to be a local. Hear stories from my dad's childhood. One day, mom nearly dragged me out of the house by my ears to get on a flight and I just...found myself running."

The memory burns in your mind, smiling at your rebel.

"I didn’t even have my phone. I don’t know what led me to slip between those trees, but it led me here. To my spot.”

Rafe has the overwhelming urge to grab your hand.

“So far, no one else has discovered it,” you smile, priding yourself on that small tidbit. “I expect you won’t tell anyone?”

“And if I do?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I might have to drown you.”

Rafe barks out a laugh, not expecting that answer.

Before he can retort, you're stepping back out of the water, shimmying your shorts down your legs and lifting your shirt off your back. Shamelessly, his gaze zeroes on your chest, lightly littered with his marks from last night that just peak out from under your bikini top.

Without hesitating, you walk back towards the water and gradually sink deeper and deeper until you're waist level, the temperature greeting you like an old friend.

The water is crystal clear, and you look down to see some small minnows swimming about around your legs.

You look up to Rafe, who stands unmoved from his spot watching you with a slight tilt of his head.

(As well as a smile so earnest it makes your heart flutter, but you choose to ignore it.)

“You gonna keep standing there looking stupid or are you gonna get in?” You continue to go deeper in the water, moving up to your neck as you cautiously step on a rock.

Rafe rolls his eyes, throwing his shirt up over his head and descending into the water.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he grumbles, but his suppressed smile gives away his indifference. “Which reminds me, I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Oh?”

Rafe is suddenly right in front of you, crouching so you're at the same eye level. You nearly slip on a rock taking a step back at the sudden intrusion, especially when his eyes soften and arms barely -- just barely -- outstretch as if to grab you.

“You left last night.”

Is he serious?

You shoot him an incredulous glare, unsure if he’s acting upset to uproot his doting boyfriend facade or if he’s actually torn up about it.

The latter can't be true.

Nonetheless, you furrow your brows. “Uh, I was naked. And judging by the way your bed was made this morning, my nonna was in the room checking in on us. Could you imagine if I didn’t get up and change, and she walked in? She’d probably have a heart attack.”

Rafe knows it’s stupid to even bring it up, but he hated the way his chest felt funny when he woke up this morning alone, noticing your sleeping figure across the room instead of with him.

“Besides,” you continue, “the light was still on.”

Rafe doesn’t take that as an excuse, and cocks his head to the side with a deadpanned look.

Whatever. You decide to indulge in his pity party. “Stop getting mopey. I planned on getting back in when I changed, but someone decided to take up the entire bed in the ten seconds it took for me to change.”

“Excuses,” he murmurs, unconvinced.

“You were sprawled out everywhere. I had no room.”

Rafe cringes. “I don’t sprawl.”

You raise a brow.

He secedes. “Maybe I sprawl. Sometimes. Only on Tuesdays. You could’ve just, I don’t know, slept on top of me.”

“Slept on top of you?”

Rafe hates how ridiculous it sounds. But yes. He would’ve preferred that instead of sleeping alone.

(But he’s not ready to admit that, not outright, anyway.)

Instead of responding he sighs deeply, as if this whole conversation that he started is an inconvenience. He moves forward lightning fast, placing his hands on your shoulders and dunking you so quickly you can barely register what’s happening. It’s only for a split second before he lets you resurface.

You splutter and sucks in a huge breath, throwing your hands out to splash that stupid grin off of his face. “The fuck, Cameron?!”

“Oh, c’mon, you were gonna go under anyway.”

The rest of the morning is spent having lazy conversation in the water, alternating positions from floating on your backs, to you on Rafe’s back as he swam through the deeper sections where you can’t touch the bottom, to Rafe on your back as you (unsuccessfully) try to carry him through the water.

He dunks you a few more times, irritably, and you really do try your best to dunk him back but it never works, as the guy is built like a tree.

A strong, muscular tree.

You show off your perfect handstand as Rafe tries to emulate the motion too, but despite being able to balance on his hands underwater, his feet unnaturally would not stay straight, so you had to deduct points for the informality, much to his dismay.

"You're judging based on a professional scale," Rafe albeit complains when you give him a whopping 5/10 score. "I'm very much at a novice level, and considering that, I think I deserve a higher score."

Your rating did not change.

Lunch rolls around and you eat together, the current debate of the hour being if a tsunami came at this very moment, how they would be able to survive.

You nearly want to shove the arancini down his throat when Rafe says that he’d simply dive through the wave.

"Gimme a break," you say, half annoyed yet half amused. "You know that's not physically possible."

Rafe shrugs with a half lipped smirk. "Well, I'm built different, baby."

Rafe goes back into the water after lunch as you stay on the rocky shore, finally being able to lay in the sun, get some shut eye, and hopefully have some peace and quiet to soak in the feel of the warmth, the sound of the small waves lapping the shore. You adjust your bikini quite skimpily so you have the most optimal tan space - the reason you're telling yourself for practically having your tits out - and soaking in the rays.

The peace and quiet only lasts about thirty minutes before Rafe is standing over you, sopping wet and blocking the sun, complaining that he’s bored.

It takes some serious convincing from you that laying on your towel and resting your eyes is also fun.

You make small talk as you lounge in the sun for a little while longer, which is ultimately Rafe just talking your ear off about whatever bullshit he can muster up, and you're unsure if he's doing it to piss you off or if he desperately needs answers (i.e. "How do you come to terms with the never-ending universe even though your consciousness has a time limit?" to which you answered, "Do you ever shut up?").

The delusional and partly existential questions continue until you feel yourself getting hot. To cool off, you stand to go in the water and Rafe’s right behind you like a lost puppy, glad to know that his aquatic entertainment has come back to play.

Despite his childish whines, Rafe reluctantly lets you swim around on your own for a bit, not without lamenting his boredom, before he forces you to get on his back again, coming up with the lame excuse that he wants to see how deep he can touch, but is too scared to do it alone.

Surprisingly, you agree to his stupid reasoning (not without a few sarcastic retorts and a creeping blush), and let Rafe drag you around the small private cove, wading through the water as if you have all the time in the world to do so. He doesn’t even care that you're relentlessly dragging him right next to his ear, because he likes the way you're clinging to him, skin to skin.

"What if a shark swam up to you right now? And if I couldn't swim?" You tease when he carries you so deep that it's up to his neck and your collarbone.

He grunts amusingly. "You'd drop you as bait."

At one point, you stay in the water while Rafe swims to shore to check his phone. In the backpack, his fingers brush against the old camera Lorenza gave him this morning, the topic of photography coming up at dinner the night before on his long list of interests.

He completely forgets about it until now.

An idea crosses his mind, and Rafe turns around to check on you, heart lurching as he sees you standing on one of the bigger rocks that breach the surface, teetering balance precariously. Without hesitation, he turns the camera on and snaps a photo of you.

He doesn't have time to inspect the product as Rafe quickly puts the camera away before you turn back around, yelling to see if he’s coming back in or not.

Three p.m. rolls around where you decide it’s time to leave, much to Rafe’s dismay.

He feels like a little kid all over again because he wants to stay for a little longer, relishing in your private company, but you simply don't give in. Albeit, it is fairly childish on his part. When his pleading goes nowhere and he refuses to step out of the water, you simply shrug and start walking towards the trees.

Rafe has never put shoes on quicker.

The walk back is trudging, but the two of you are content enough to do it with limited bickering.

When Rafe finds himself lingering behind you a little, he carefully slides the backpack off his shoulder enough to grab the camera again and snap another photo of you with the picturesque landscape in the back, unbeknownst to you.

Though his eyes only linger on you in the photo.

Once the cottage is in sight, Rafe casually slips his hand into yours, ignoring the way you quizzically look up at him at the gesture. Before you can protest, you hear Ticino's bark in the distance, the shetland-sheepdog looking at you from the window. Lorenza is quick to open the door, leaning against the frame as she did yesterday in her introduction and taking note of their intertwined hands.

“Devo andare al mercato,” Lorenza tells you when they approach the door. “Tornarò presto.” (I have to go to the market, I’ll be back soon.)

When Lorenza leaves, Rafe occupies Ticino briefly as you take a quick shower, washing the salt and exhaustion off your body.

The sun was beaming bright today, undoubtedly tiring you out. With bloodshot eyes and sopping wet hair, you collapse in your small twin bed with nothing but a t-shirt and sleep shorts, wanting nothing more than a few minutes of shut-eye.

After Rafe’s done entertaining the dog, he barrels into the room after his quick shower to try and initiate something he’s been thinking about all day - especially after seeing you in the skimpiest bikini to grace the earth and especially since you have the house to themselves with a short time frame - but his gaze softens when he sees you peacefully passed out, curled in on yourself in the twin bed as your arm hangs off the side.

God, he swallows the lump in his throat.

Rafe looms over you for a moment, frowning. He nudges his knee with yours to see if you're awake, to scout for any sort of movement or reaction. You're seemingly not as you don't even budge. He figures his arousal can wait.

He doesn’t even think twice about throwing on boxers and shorts and climbing in beside you.

Rafe cautiously lowers himself behind your sleeping figure, brushing your damp hair off the pillow so he doesn’t lay on it, and wasting no time nuzzling in and inhaling the scent of your shampoo, the same citrus smell that radiates from his hair.

Familiar, he thinks as he slides an arm around your waist, gently pulling you flush against his chest as he hums in contentment at the contact.

For Christ's sake, he’s practically been holding you all day but Rafe can’t seem to get enough. It’s intoxicating.

It must be something in the Italian water, or whatever, he figures.

A low groan escapes his throat when you shift your hips against his, and regardless of if you do it on purpose or subconsciously, he finds himself stilling, holding his breath to see if you do it again.

After a moment, Rafe thinks you've fallen back asleep and he exhales deeply, but as soon as the affirmation comes on, you do it again.

Rafe grips your waist in warning. “Sweet girl.”

“Your bed is over there, by the way.”

“Stop playing.”

You hum sleepily, a shiver running down your spine as his fingers edge the waistband of your shorts. “Playing? I’m only trying to sleep, baby.”

Rafe scoffs at your faux tone, as if it’s the most offensive thing he’s ever heard. His fingers are ice cold against your hot skin, warmth pooling in your belly as they travel lower and lower.

“You really expect me to not fuck you stupid after seeing you parade around all day in that slutty little bikini?” he murmurs gravelly against the shell of your ear. "Drivin' me fucking crazy."

There’s a small swell of pride swirling in your chest when you realize you've been making him all hot and bothered all day. But it fades as quickly as it came as he firmly presses himself along your backside, nearly gasping when you feel his hard-on against your ass, the product of your practically nude flaunt all day.

You squirm when his fingers ghost over your cunt, growing impatient at the buildup and elongated foreplay. It’s as if he can sense your frustration, retracting his hand every time you try to wiggle your hips closer and speed the process up.

You groan in irritation at his teasing.

“Rafe.”

“Hmm?”

Your words die in your throat.

You wouldn’t be caught dead saying please.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s begging for dick. Especially Rafe’s, because it always goes straight to his damn head and he gets even more insufferable than he already is. And he really doesn't need any more fuel to boost his ego as it's already the height of Everest.

There was one time you said it during a moment of drunk desperation and he’s been elongating foreplay to get you to say it again, and again, and again ever since.

But you refuse.

(That particular night was one of your best lays together, maybe because you were both drunk enough to admit how badly you needed each other, but still.)

The hesitation drives Rafe up the wall. He wants to hear your words.

“What, princess? What do you need?” Rafe mumbles low with a tone that’s anything but sweet, almost mocking you.

You huff, pushing his hand out of your pants and turning around as efficiently as the twin bed will allow. Pressing forward, you swallow the cocky laugh that emits gravely in his throat as you kiss him. A large hand immediately presses against the small of your back under your shirt, pulling you taut against his bare chest.

The moment goes as quickly as it comes, because soon enough Rafe’s shifting your bodies so your back is flat against the mattress and he’s hovering over you, kissing you bruisingly.

One of his hands slides underneath your t-shirt and immediately kneads the swell of your breast, his cool ring ghosting over your nipple. The sensation is so startling that you moan into his mouth, and, fuck, you want to take it back immediately when you see the smug smirk on his lips.

Rafe pulls back and peers down at you writhing figure in mockery, as if he's looking at a masterpiece.

“What happened, baby? Forget how to speak?”

You roll your eyes so hard as you turn your head away from him, but his hand leaves your breast and comes up to grip your chin, stubbornly pulling your gaze back to him.

He hums mockingly, and you hate the way you nearly pout. “Don’t get all shy on me now. Tell me what you need.”

You speak before you can think.

“Need you inside,” you murmur, growing tired of playing cat and mouse.

“Magic word?”

You groan in irritation. “Really?”

He imitates a buzzer. "Wrong."

"Rafe."

He repeats your name back, tone teasing.

God. You hate how wet you are, how turned on you are, and hate even further how you're a mess and he’s barely even touched you.

Huffing again, you try to take back any ounce of control (before you'll eventually submit). You narrow your gaze to the best of your ability, trying to act indifferent at the fact that he’s getting you stupid horny just from a little bit of kissing and fondling. Pathetic.

“You said you were gonna fuck me,” you weakly retaliate, crossing your arms.

But Rafe doesn’t let up control, instead he leans down so his lips are brushing yours, the ghost touch making you twitch. “I said I was gonna fuck you stupid. But I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already blabbering.”

“Rafe–”

“Beg for it.”

“No.”

“No?”

Rafe pulls away, feigning hurt as he tries (and fails) to form a frown. You nearly whine at the loss of contact, frustration snowballing as he sits up on his knees and peers down at you in anticipation. He cocks his head to the side and takes in your flushed cheeks and how your hands almost – almost – grab at him in desperation, and you retract them quickly so he doesn’t notice but, oh, he does.

“We can go all day, sweet girl,” he drones out, checking his wrist as if he’s looking at the time.

He’s not even wearing a watch. Prick.

Sitting up, you cross your arms again with a pout that makes Rafe want to screw all the foreplay and take you on this twin bed. You're inches apart, chests heaving at the intensity as you stare at each other, waiting to see who’s going to crack first.

It’s a standoff, and neither budge in aggravated stubbornness.

Well, stubbornness on your part and pure amusement on his.

But all of that goes out the window when your gaze flickers down to his shorts, the obvious tent making your heart flutter with desire.

Because despite all of the arguing, he wants you just as much as you want him.

“Fine,” you grumble, cheeks unprecedentedly burning. “Please.”

Rafe grins. “Please what?”

You shoot him a glare that could kill.

He doesn't falter, and your struggle only eggs him on further. Rafe raises a brow and still achingly refuses to touch you, anticipating a response, and you decide to swallow your pride, knowing this is going to be the only way you'll get what you want.

“Please fuck me.”

It takes less than a second for Rafe to press forward, kissing you fervently as he guides you to lay down on your back. When your head hits the pillow, his large hand comes up to cradle your jaw and, for a moment, you hate how intimate it is, especially when it’s soft in comparison to how he normally handles you and how his eyes gleam with pride.

The emotion behind it makes you sick.

He hums as a thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “See, baby? You just had to ask nicely.”

“Shut up.”

Rafe snorts with a stupid smile, leaning back to pull your shorts down. You lift your hips to accommodate, and the way his breath hitches as he stares at your bare cunt dreamily has your tummy pooling with desire.

It's as if he sees it for the first time every time.

“So pretty. Such a pretty cunt, princess.”

You zoom your focus out, pulled from the moment with a harsh swallow.

You're only fucking. Just that. He likes you for your pussy. You like him for his dick.

With the way he was holding you earlier, you need to remind yourself of your arrangement. He’s here to pretend to be something he’s not. Having sex in between the lines of the main mission of the trip is simply a bonus, an activity. Nothing more. Reading into it more than that is going to complicate things, and you don't do complicated.

You can't do complicated.

“You’re taking an awfully long time after I was so nice,” you murmur irritably and it earns a belly laugh from him.

Rafe digs in his pocket for his wallet and pulls out a condom, proceeding to carelessly throw the expensive leather somewhere in the room as he slides off his shorts and boxers. He comes down from his laugh when he slides the condom over his cock, shaking his head in disbelief as he hovers over you and places the most chaste kiss on your lips as an apology.

You hate the tenderness, but it doesn’t seem to faze him as he kisses you again while simultaneously lining himself up with your entrance.

“You were so nice,” he says against your lips. You both moan into each other’s mouths when he slowly pushes himself in. “Asked so nicely for me.”

He bottoms out painfully slowly, holding himself there basically at the tip of your cervix torturously as he exhales deep through his nose. You nearly buck your hips up at his stillness in frustration.

“Missed this so fucking bad.”

You try to ignore how it’s only been days since you've had sex. “Rafe, please move.”

Rafe hums in adoration at your pretty, breathless words. “Being such a sweet girl for me. Sayin' please.”

Your nails dig into the grooves of his back as he pulls out just as slowly as he entered before pushing himself back in, settling at an agonizing pace that has you rutting your hips into his with impatience.

He growls, fingers tightening on your neck in warning. “Stop.”

You do it again in retaliation. Rafe says your name as a second strike.

“Hmm?” you hum, feigning mock nativity that you know is going to piss him off. The heel of your left foot slowly eases up his spine until you're hooking your leg over his shoulder, allowing him deeper access. “Faster. Going so slow, Rafey.”

His eyes roll back at the nickname, hating the way it sends a shiver down his spine.

God, he hates it with a burning passion, since girls have said it to him to hold some sort of possession over him in bed or at parties to stake their claim. You overheard one of Rafe’s booty calls whine it once, just once, and now you'll dangle it over his head every now and then to get what you want, or when you simply want to piss him off more than usual.

Now, Rafe can claim all he wants that it drives him up the wall, but the first time you said it mockingly to him during sex, he immediately came.

The word triggers something in his gut, switching his pace from sweet and achingly gentle to animalistic, fucking you rough and deep against this godforsaken mattress, the lewd noises only spurring your arousal.

And, god, it pisses him off the way you're fucking beaming at the change up because you, ultimately, got what you wanted simply by uttering one word. That godforsaken nickname.

Your tits bounce from the force of his thrust, his tip hitting spots unknown as you moan shamelessly into his mouth.

Rafe nearly scoffs against your lips, moving to ghost over your ear as your cheeks press against each other. You arch your back as much as you can at the sensation, chest to chest, and the movement causes Rafe to bring his hand down from your neck to your clit.

Your nails dig further into the planes of his back muscles because of it. The guttural moan from you makes Rafe chuckle darkly, the noise being nothing nice.

“Is this what you needed, baby?” he mocks. He feels you nod against his cheek. It only spurs him on further, addicted to you. “A bit of attention?”

“Been thinking about you all day,” you challenge shakily, smirking at the way his pace falters momentarily, then resuming the original rhythm. “Wanted you to fuck me on that beach.”

Rafe presses his thumb firmly against your clit to shut you up, and your hips rut in synchronization to his thrusts, causing him to hilt into you deeper, harder, rougher. “Fuck- princess, you know you could’ve asked nicely.”

“Don’t like being nice,” you pout, breaths becoming shallower the more he rubs circles on your clit.

“Only for me, right?”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the possession, hating the way it makes your heart flutter. As much as you want to retaliate and deflect the ownership (because you'd rather fucking die, truthfully, then give him that satisfaction), you hum in a tone that can be argued is in agreement.

At least Rafe seems to think so as he accepts it with a low moan that only turns you on.

It kickstarts the warmth gradually building in your core, a wrangled whine escaping your lips before you can bite it back. One of your hands immediately find his hair, tugging it harshly as your pants become shallower, shorter, breathier.

You don't even need to give a warning that you're close, Rafe already knowing your body like an open book as he continues his movements, his own thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own high. The sounds of slapping and moaning and the mattress creaking underneath you echo off the walls.

In seconds, your grip tightens as you writhe underneath him, coming with an embarrassingly passionate whine as your back arches into him.

You whisper something in the shell of his ear that he can’t even comprehend, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your warm cunt, your hot breath, your rough grip on his hair.

Every feeling, every sensation in this god-given moment has his brain saying your name over, and over, and over again until he’s murmuring it like a prayer, like it’s the only mantra he’ll ever need to say again.

You breathily moan again, and Rafe realizes you're saying his name, too.

“Oh, fuck–”

The sound is so fucking pretty that it has his rhythm stuttering as he comes with you with a strangled moan, releasing into the condom in hot spurts and riding out his devastatingly early high.

Rafe refuses to look down at your connected bodies, knowing the sight is only going to make him do something embarrassing again – as in moaning like a pornstar – and instead squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in the crevice of your warm neck to attempt to hide from whatever the fuck just happened.

Your chests heave against one another and his movements gradually slow until he stops, still fully buried inside you.

Spent, Rafe lowers his elbow and collapses on your chest, soliciting a low moan from you when his thumb leaves your clit as his hand settles on your hipbone. That same thumb traces lazy circles on the bone, Rafe doing it without thinking as he exhales deeply against your vocal chord, brows furrowed as he suddenly has a revelation.

Not a good one.

You smooth out his hair, which ultimately is just you stroking his head gently. He nearly sighs at the sensation, subconsciously nuzzling a fraction deeper into your embrace in contentment to push down his thoughts.

Because he can't look up at you. Not after what he just discovered.

But you stop as soon as you start, as if you realized what you were doing, and instead place the hand cordially on his shoulder to backpedal from any moments of accidental intimacy. He replicates your intention with a weird tug in his chest, his thumb stilling and simply resting on your hip.

Despite it, he says nothing.

Very on the contrary to his usual behavior, especially after sex.

He loves to talk. He never shuts up. He cleans you up, dresses you if you want to be dressed, cracks a joke or two about your fucked out state and calls you something stupidly and aggravatingly endearing that turns your mind to mush. Even last night– he held you and had the energy to annoyingly quip despite being on the brink of sleep.

But now Rafe offers nothing but uncharacteristic quiet.

You don't like it, not because it’s silent, but because it’s different.

After a few moments, you let out a long breath. You're sure that he can feel your erratic heartbeat as you can feel his eyelashes fluttering shut against your skin, an ounce of anxiety rising like bile in your throat.

Why is he so quiet?

“Are you–”

Before you have the opportunity to make the matter worse by opening your mouth, the sound of the front door startles you both as you simultaneously sit up in panic.

Lorenza doesn’t catch you, too busy unloading the groceries and addressing Ticino when she arrives back.

As you get dressed and leave to help her, Rafe stays in the room. After peeling the condom off, wrapping it in tissue paper, and throwing it in the trashcan behind your bed, he pulls his boxers and shorts back on and flops back down on the sheets that smell of you, remaining unmoved as his thoughts race.

The realization hit him – shamefully – mid-orgasm.

It further rendered him unable to trust his words in the post-sex haze in fear of saying something that’ll, undoubtedly, scare you away.

A haze is what Rafe hopes it is, just a fleeting thought that crossed his mind in such a vulnerable moment.

Sometimes sex – mind blowing sex – makes people feed into their delusions in the moment, but later coming to their senses when their head is screwed on straight. Then they laugh about those silly little thoughts in the long run, looking back and making fun of how ridiculous they were.

Rafe waits for the moment his thoughts will return back to normal, but this epiphany only drums in his mind harder and harder until he feels a migraine splitting his head in two.

Rafe likes you. Bad.

He slaps a hand on his forehead and groans.

Fuck. This isn’t good. There are so many things wrong with this blossoming feeling bubbling in his chest, and he tries and tries to push it down but it keeps springing back up stronger than before, and it only augments his panic as he lays here in this twin bed staring at the ceiling.

Rafe doesn’t do crushes.

He hates vulnerability, hates the level of trust he’s required to put in another person, hates the expectations that come with being romantically involved with someone. It’s much easier to do things casually, to not let feelings get in the way because feelings cause complications, feelings create dangerous situations, feelings don’t take prisoners.

The whole idea of trusting another person in such an emotionally intimate way makes his chest feel heavy.

It is so detrimentally unfamiliar that it scares Rafe.

The idea of not having any control in any scenario already terrifies him, because if he can’t dictate a situation then he’s at the mercy of another person. He was always taught to be in charge, to be the commanding person in the room, to be feared so that he’ll be listened to. Not having control means submitting. Rafe doesn’t do that.

Especially not emotionally.

The only person he'll let take control of things is his father. Ward's the one who instilled the lesson that control is created, sought upon, and needed in every situation. Rafe was only a kid when he knew what was expected of him whenever his father wasn’t present – which was often – and it simply grew when the only person allowed to tell Rafe what to feel and what not to feel was his father.

Crying was for pussies and being sad was something you pushed down deep and replaced with anger. Trusting other people was dangerous, because they could use your most vulnerable moments to their advantage. It lowers inhibitions, fogs logistics, and makes people do stupid things against the betterment of propriety.

Rafe knows what he has to do.

He has to distance himself from you.

The decision is ridiculous, Rafe already knows. He’s trapped in a foreign country with you for nearly a week, and it’s not like he can avoid you in the meantime or act like he still hates your existence.

He’s supposed to be your boyfriend, playing a part that entails being loving and doting and disgustingly devoted. He has to be able to properly emote his affection for you, to show your family how much he supposedly loves you without outright saying it out loud.

Rafe’s always been bad with his words, his actions doing most of the talking for him throughout his life.

Right now, that's coming to bite him in the ass.

Rafe spends the rest of the evening uncharacteristically quiet, smiling politely and nodding to anecdotes Lorenza tells during dinner. He adds his own, not as animatedly as he was the previous night since he doesn’t want any alarm bells to go off for her, but also trying to distance himself emotionally to attempt his plan of shoving away this stupid crush.

He barely even looks at you for the entirety of dinner, and doesn’t loiter in the kitchen while you and Lorenza cook.

Well, Rafe's plan lasts about four hours, which is four hours longer than he expected.

After dinner, Lorenza sends you out of the room to do something that he doesn’t comprehend. When you're gone, Lorenza turns to Rafe who unsuccessfully attempts to help her clean. She takes the plate out of his hand and puts it down, instead grabbing his hands and leading him to the doorway of the kitchen where her calendar is.

She points to today’s date. “Oggi.” She then taps yesterday’s date. “Ieri.” Lorenza then taps the next day. There’s a red circle around the number. “Domani.”

Rafe nods, assuming the word means tomorrow. “Domani…” he trails off, not sure where she’s going with this language lesson.

Lorenza looks at Rafe and calculates her words, saying your name quietly. “Domani è il compleanno di lei.”

“Compleanno?” He feels like an idiot as he repeats it back to her, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat when she says your name.

“Compleanno è…” Lorenza drones out, thinking about the word very hard. Then it comes to her as she snaps her fingers, as if it’s an epiphany. “Birthday.”

Rafe freezes, blinking stupidly down at her.

Wh-

It’s your birthday tomorrow?

Panic rises in his chest as he fumbles for words, but instead of interrogating him on his lack of knowledge for his supposed-girlfriend’s birthday, Lorenza huffs and shakes her head irritably.

“Questa ragazza non lo dice mai a nessuno,” she hisses quietly, mainly to herself, it seems. (This girl doesn't tell anyone)

Then, she turns to Rafe and takes a deep breath, her next words very slow and calculated.

“Domani, she say she do not want party. Solo cena e vino. The birthday she does not like.” (Only dinner and wine.)

That makes Rafe frown. Deeply. He hates that you don't like your birthday, he hates even more that he wants to know why, and hates even further that he wants to shower you with gifts.

The latter makes him reel because, fuck, man, he's supposed to be distancing himself.

“She does not know I tell you this,” she adds, pointing a knowing finger to him as if to say you better not tell her I told you.

Rafe nods wordlessly, still frowning.

Why wouldn’t you tell him that it’s your birthday?

He thinks back to birthdays at home. They were always the talk of the season, as the Cameron siblings always had to throw the craziest ragers to grace their side of the island. They were always coined the term event of the year every year.

Rafe’s birthday has always been nothing short of a giant celebration, half relishing in everyone kissing his ass all day and half loathing all of the attention. He never really cared about the gifts since he always had every material object he could think of (that he never really cared for), but he always appreciated when people brought him alcohol and weed and things that could make him feel good. He always got a lot of birthday sex, too, which was always a plus.

Shaking away the memories, Rafe goes to ask a question but steps away from the calendar when he hears you come back into the house, barreling into the kitchen with an empty box while fisting a silky lilac dress.

However, you're not looking at him, instead looking at Lorenza with an exasperated expression.

“Paulette ha sbagliato taglia!” (She got the size wrong!)

Rafe’s ears perk up at the mention of your mother’s name, brows furrowing as his gaze darts between your expression, the dress, and the way you hand it over to Lorenza who inspects the tag intently. The two of you talk at such a rapid pace that he feels like he’s intruding even though he doesn’t understand a lick of it. All he can gather is that you're upset about the dress, or upset with your mother. Maybe both.

Either way, you're clearly not happy.

Quietly retreating back to the bedroom, he leaves the women in the kitchen as he’s no contribution to the conversation. He sits down, this time on his own bed, leaning up against the wall as he sighs deeply, attempting to rub the growing migraine out of his temples. The effort to look online to see if anything can be delivered to the house for your birthday falls short, and Rafe groans when he comes to the conclusion that it’ll be impossible to get you a gift before tomorrow night.

One that you deserve, anyway.

He finds himself deep in thought when you enter the bedroom, throwing the dress carelessly on the table in the corner of the room and flopping down onto your bed, sighing. Sitting up from his slouching position, Rafe pinches his brows in concern when he sees you pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes.

Pushing away the urge to go over and coddle you, he resorts to his default state.

“You good?” he settles on, his voice forcefully even.

You huff. “She drives me fucking crazy. I can’t take it.”

Rafe connects the dots. “I’m assuming…your mom?”

“She forces me to sit at some pretentious restaurant for two hours going over measurements and alterations for the dress for the wedding,” you suddenly rant, sitting up and turning to him to dial him into the dilemma.

The eye contact has him shifting uncomfortably.

“I tell her three different times what my measurements are, and she even pulls out the damn tape measure at the table and makes me confirm my actual size in front of a hundred people. She writes the numbers down and says she’ll call the tailor to make the alterations, and – lo and behold – the measurements are wrong.”

He’s confused about why you're worked up over a dress, never hearing you be picky about clothes before. “Can you call the tailor and have them–?”

“No,” you interrupt harshly, then recoil at your tone and replace it with something softer, more calculated. “It’s not– this isn’t about the tailor.”

“Then…what is it about?”

You hesitate and he hates it.

He despises how you don't tell him anything about yourself. He’s been chasing anecdotes ever since you told him about the beach spot, silently wishing you'll talk forever and forever about yourself because you never do.

Rafe feels like he’s blind when it comes to knowing you. Sure, he knows when you're seconds away from coming and what makes you moan and what makes you squirm, but god forbid he tries to know your birthday. Why does it take so much for you to open up to him?

It’s simple. Because you could never trust him. Could never see yourself with a guy like him.

That thought makes Rafe feel weird. “Hey. Answer me.”

You sigh so gutturally it makes Rafe frown at the sound. “She does this." You gesture back to the discarded dress. "She purposefully buys me clothes that are smaller in hopes that I’ll slim down enough to fit into them."

The look on his face, the confusion and hurt, is making you nauseous.

So, you dart your gaze to the bedsheets to aimlessly pull at the seams, because the thought of his eyes staring you down makes you nervous, especially about this topic. "I mean, my junior prom dress was conveniently a size down a week before so she had an excuse to give me an almond diet.”

"What?" he asks quietly, and it sounds so innocent that it makes you reel.

Did you...say that out loud?

You suddenly look surprised that you even said that. Immediately, you shake away any shroud of hope that you'll be continuing that story. “That’s not– that’s not the point. The point is that I should’ve expected this. I should’ve just taken care of the dress myself.”

He sucks in a breath.

The confession breaks Rafe’s heart.

It feels awfully similar to how little control he has with his father, how he tries and tries to be patient and do everything right but it only backfires and makes things worse. It only gives his father an excuse to cuss Rafe out or embarrass him publicly in front of his peers. He hates how you have had to go through a similar emotional turmoil with your mother, and the whole situation makes his heart feel like lead.

You take his silence as indifference.

Before Rafe can say anything, you wave it off nonchalantly.

“Whatever. It doesn’t– it’s fine. I’ll have to go into town tomorrow to look for a replacement. Nonna said there’s a couple of places.” You abruptly stand and grab your toiletry bag, needing to leave the room and his silence to refrain from crashing out. “I can walk you to the same beach tomorrow so you have something to do.”

You move to leave but your words make him panic.

“Uh, wait.” Rafe sits up with an outstretched arm in your direction, heart thumping when you turn to meet his eyes. “I’ll, uh, come with you tomorrow.”

You quirk a brow in disbelief. “You want to come shopping? Willingly?”

Rafe nods quickly.

“Really?”

He finds himself rolling his eyes, his plan on distancing himself long out of the window. “I’m not sure I like your prejudicial tone. Who says all guys hate shopping?”

“Every single man I have ever met hates shopping,” you retort, placing a hand on your hip and popping it out with attitude. He nearly grins at the gesture. “You’re really telling me you enjoy it?”

No, he really doesn’t.

But he’s accustomed to it with two younger sisters. The amount of shopping sprees he’s been dragged to is astronomical, and while he usually complained the whole time and verbally wished he was anywhere else, he secretly found the endeavors fun.

At least, it got him out of the house and away from his father for a few guaranteed hours. However, the thought of watching you play dress up excites him, and the perfect opportunity to shower you in birthday gifts falls right into his lap.

“Yep. I love it,” Rafe settles on saying.

You roll your eyes. “Try saying it more convincingly next time.”

Before Rafe can retort, you're leaving with a pointed look as if to call him out on his BS. His laugh reverberates through the room, sliding out of his sitting position so that he’s laying on his back, drumming his fingers on his tummy as he suppresses a grin as his thoughts pool with excitement for the upcoming day.

Rafe figures he needs to make the most of this boyfriend role, since it’ll be the only time he’ll ever get to treat you the way you deserve, all without raising suspicions of his true feelings.

So, it's settled. He’ll shower you with gifts in front of Lorenza to set your relationship in stone, and play the hell out of the part when the wedding rolls around.

Rafe figures having the privilege of being your boyfriend for a week is better than not having the opportunity at all.

notes reminder that this will be an emotional slow burn even though it might not feel like it. hope you enjoyed!

#rafe cameron #salem-s works #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #reader insert #rafe cameron x female reader #outerbanks

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leclercwriting · 1 year ago

Text

leo leclerc | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

you and charles get a dog together and you come out as a couple

masterlist

y/n.user

liked by francisca.cgomes, yourbff1 and 12,547 others

caption: find yourself a man who buys you a dog xx

view all comments

francisca.cgomes: when is my time :(

y/n.user: @ pierregasly buy her a dog!

pierregasly: on it

yourbff1: omg he's grown so muuch. I remember him as a little babyy

y/n.user: yeaah:(( i miss my little doggie. now he's a crazy dog, and he barks all the time

user83: what is his name?

f1fanpage: I heard that his name is leo or something like that. But she never said it publicly

user93: she's getting princess treatment. I need to find a man like this

landonorris: I want to take photos of your new family member

y/n.user: hmm he's pretty photogenic so that's not gonna be a problem

user24: OMG IS THE DOG LANDO'S AND Y/N'S??

f1gossip: there's no way that they're dating lol

charles_leclerc

liked by y/n.user, pierregasly and 345,738 others

caption: my babies. the leclerc family

view all comments

y/n.user: ugh I look so bad in the first photo

charles_leclerc: but leo looks cute

y/n.user: I hate you. if you don't want me to post you playing football, then you should consider how you're going to apologise

user34: I LOVE HER. SHE'S SO ICONIC

maxverstappen1: I fear that she ate him up

user34: max?!

user94: I want what they have

francisca.cgomes: can you fight charles?

charles_leclerc: I mean maybe, why?

francisca.cgomes: I want your gf and dog

pierregasly: I'm gonna buy you that dog kika. just wait, no need for violence

user85: can we talk about how they haven't publicly said the dog's name? does anyone know what he's called?! :((

y/n.user: his name is leo leclerc xx

user93: omg I love that name!!

charles_leclerc: she picked it and I love it too

y/n.user

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 233,485 others

caption: i enjoyed the summer break with the loves of my life. we took leo to the trainer so he doesn't bark at people randomly, lol. anyway, I'm announcing that pierre finally bought kika dog!! his name is simba. yall wait for puppy dates xx

view all comments

charles_leclerc: I love you mon amour

y/n.user: love you more ❤️

maxverstappen1: Ugh, too much

user83: max is secretly a shipper of them. I'm just saying

maxverstappen1: naah. I just love the dog

francisca.cgomes: simba can't wait to meet leo

charles_leclerc: and leo can't wait to meet simba

y/n.user: simba is so cutee and small

user838: we NEED to see simba and leo content. Also ROSCOE

y/n.user: I already texted lewis and he said that next time in the paddock leo and Roscoe can see each other

user39: OMGGG I CANT WAIT

charles_leclerc: ferrari dogs

charles_leclerc and lewishamilton

liked by y/n.user, landonorris and 987,939 others

caption: next years ferrari duo. dog dads

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y/n.user: they are so cute. Leo is having his ADHD moment while roscoe is chilling 😭

lewishamilton: roscoe is like a dog grandpa compared to leo

maxverstappen1: i love roscoe

user84: max is so random lol

landonorris: I need to tell oscar to buy a dog so we can have mclaren duo dogs

charles_leclerc: lando, you stick to your goldfish

landonorris: I DONT HAVE A GOLDFISH

oscarpiastri: he had a goldfish..

user29: I love how random the comments are. since y/n became a wag every f1 driver is in hers and charles' comments

user49: we love the ferrari duo!

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dmitriene · 11 months ago

Text

cw: poorly described virginity, simon likes staning pure things, kidnapping.

outlaw!simon riley meeting you as nothing but a pretty waitress at a saloon, standing out among the dimly lit vast room in that you did not look like anyone from the crowd, only an indiscriminate mess of men around you, drunken workers, alcoholics, loudly screaming lovers of starting a conflict, and just someone hiding with a cheap prostitute, cheating on his wife behind the walls of home abode.

simon sees it's like some cruel joke alive, you look like you've just just run away from your daddy's cozy, rich home, or from the convent boarding house like a typical good girl, too bloody clean for this place, and maybe that's why he's enveloped in incomprehensible emotions, clouding his mind with thick wisps of smoke as he moves through the roaring crowd to the farthest table, hiding not only behind the scarlet mask on his face, but also in the murkiness of an unlit corner.

you're not walking around the room, you're sliding, a long dress fluttering at your ankles, open by light shoes with a small heel tapping on the parquet, to the beat of softly played music on the piano nearby, allowing you to occasionally wag your rounded hips under the many skirts of your dress, not paying much attention to the visitors' gliding glances at your bouncing cleavage, but you feel a burning gaze on the back of your neck, until you free your hands from the freshly placed orders, and finally notice a new visitor.

simon catches your gaze on him, his pale eyelashes barely visible in the darkness that envelops him as if in a kinship embrace, so you don't see how his oppressive gaze focuses on the curves of your body, dark irises dilate to swallow the perilous blackness of his lazily hooded eyes, swirling deep with something unsettling, yet you are too pure to notice the clinging, engrained filth on his hands and the meaningfulness of his gaze, smiling greetably like a ray of morning sunshine, closing the distance between you and his table to take an order.

he orders a whiskey, cocks his head aside to lick his eyes up from your toes to your head, and you just pull on a bigger smile and nod obediently, not a word about his rough tone of voice, about the absence of a nice plea for you to bring him some, you go to the counter with your toes turned around and take one of the many brown bottles to fill a nice, clean faceted glass, pouring three fingers of alcohol that smells clearly of vanilla and spice, melting onto the leather and tobacco that penetrates simon's nose as soon as you come back and put the glass next to his gloved hand with a thud.

you peer cautiously through your wispy eyelashes when he hoists the black fabric with skull jaw up, bunching it beneath the edge of the crimson, as well skull shaped mask to take a sip from the glass, and you look at his thin chapped lips that he moistens with tart alcohol, the opened curve of his neck where the mask no longer touches the high collar of his dark shirt, adorned with a gold trinket engraved with a scorpion, and when his lips suddenly stretch in a toothy grin, creasing his eyes that now gleam with amber glows, you almost shriek and turn around, feeling your cheeks warm up.

and simon is not a good man at all, maybe as good as an outlaw can be, but it's nothing compared to your pureness, an innocent glint in your shyly running eyes, clean hands that easily wipe the dirt picked up from visitors on a small, light apron on your waist, and more than once he spoiled things that seemed beautiful to someone, just as he has long lost all shame and sympathy for such things, besides, looking at your reaction, he is quite sure that you yourself would not refuse to end dirtied up, by him.

with your curious glances, the fiddle of your fingers that tremble at contact with his own, not like with everyone else, as he brushes his whole palm against your hand on purpose while crooning about how unsuitable you look around there, and he can't blame himself for the longing want of bending you right here when you giggle, a little ringing sound that provokes him to squeeze his knees under the table because his empty glass is in your hand, and his suddenly aching cock makes his trousers too tight.

it's night behind the wide glass windows at the entrance when people begin to disperse, and the saloon seems to shrink when it's just the two of you, he's still at the rounded, wooden table, and you're knocking empty bottles behind the counter, putting them in a wooden box to return to the storage room, noticing simon's figure behind you not immediately, only when he runs his hand along the curve of your waist and to the dip of your hip, snuggling almost close to your ass, and you shudder barely perceptibly when he hoarsely offers to help.

you don't act surprised or either hard to get when he slaps the wooden door of storage room behind you two, twisting the key and sprawling two heavy hands at your hips, hurriedly turning you to face him before his lips descend against yours, lips open wide in knocked, whiny gasp, when he shoves his tongue in a wet, sloppy kiss between your slack lips, tugging you against him by snaking his hand behind you, pressing onto the small of your back, as he walks you towards the wall.

simon sees how you give him the reins, clumsily following the movement of his tongue in your mouth as he runs it over your teeth and curls the muscle around your own, ripping at his leather gloves that fly off towards the closer of the shelf, getting lost there when his bare, scarred arms bunch your skirts up and he hoists your body, making your legs loope around his waist, heels slipping off with a thud against the wooden floor, and when his touch rubs up your knees and swipes to your thighs, he almost howls at finding the pantaloons that are so uncomfortable to take off.

it's a loud rip of fabric that makes you gasp, sound swallowed by his hungry mouth, as his thick fingers find your puffy folds that drip off with saccharine wetness, making his digits tacky as he spreads your folds and toys at your peaking, neglected clit, as you kick your feet, head tilting back against the wall, making you retreat from the kiss with a shy, whiny moan, and simon smugly sure you have an virgin little hole that drips just for him, wetting the short curls of your pubic hair.

you sweat when he unzips his trousers and let's his fat cock bob out, the veiny girth of him, twitching with oozing, pearly precum that dribbles down his uncut, rudy length makes you throb, and he feels it, fingers already buried in your stretching cunny that is gooey with your glossy juices, coating his digits in glistening sheen as he thrusts them in you, fisting along his leaky dick with other hand, lining up with your pulsing entrance just as he starts to slip his fingers out.

he reinvents you for himself, stretching your thin, silken walls around the meaty girt of his cock, letting you feel every inch that pistons slowly in and out of you, careful, not nearly enough so you won't feel the sting, yet you still moan prettily, each wet glide making you tighten with rapid pulse of your tight walls, snug around every vein that rubs against your gooey insides, the hold of his fingers are bruising at your thighs, staining them with your slick that were clinging to his fingertips, as you moan with strained, whiny mewls.

simon fills you up when you get too tight, starting to arch off the approaching feeling, making his hands glide from your thighs towards your round, plush hips, gripping onto them to grind his cock inside of you, thick cockhead slamming against your spongy little spot with small, deep circles, his eyes boring into the sight of your eyes rolling back, sparks erupting behind your eyelids with each canting movement of his hips, and you wail when his cock jerks and spills ropes of cum against your cervix.

your whole body spasms, the thin walls of your pussy that milk his cock, your legs that tighten around his waist, the painfully arched spine, as your head tilts aside, eyes glassy with eyelids growing heavy, simon's hands moving to support you behind your back, cradling your slowly limping body against his sturdy, clothed chest, as the other finds purchase at the back of your head, pressing your face into his shoulder, letting you breathe into lulling scent of smoke and leather that clings to him like from a bottle of whiskey.

simon's cock still carved in you, your pussy spasming, dripping his milky cum down onto the wooden floor, and there's a satisfied growl rumbling in his chest, the one that makes you nuzzle closer, huffing at his scent and curling your body, and he's never been one to believe in the rules of being obligated to marry a girl with which you've been fornicate, but there's no way in the whole west that he's gonna leave you in this saloon for anyone to have, after being marked by his seed.

not that you have anywhere to run when you wake up at the dawn of a new day, uncomfortably wet between your legs, rocked up and down, fluttering your eyes only to be meet with silent, empty outskirts of the wild west, while cradled against simon's chest, one of his hands holding the horse's rains, making the animal ride slowly, as he holds you close with the other, feeling easily the way you shift, his gaze snapping down at you with a leery twinkle, a crooning purr of “good morning, darlin'„ slipping from under his mask.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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vanteguccir · 6 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ11:50 PM. DEC 32ST, 2024 * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N shows up at Matt's doorstep at 11:50 PM of New Year's Eve, soaked by the rain and ready to confess her love to him.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　insecurities (just a bit). friends to lovers trope.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

11:45 PM.

December 31st, 2024.

Y/N had never considered herself one for big gestures. She preferred to deal with her feelings by pretending they didn’t exist, tucking them away in the quiet corners of her heart until they faded on their own. That had been her plan for handling her crush on Matt Sturniolo - ignore it, bury it deep, and wait for it to dissolve into nothing.

But the universe had different plans for her.

Instead of subsiding, her feelings for Matt had only grown. They grew with every laugh they shared, every accidental brush of his hand against hers, and every time he looked at her with those soft, oceanic eyes. It felt like the emotions were slipping out of her control, inch by inch, until tonight, when they completely exploded.

Now, she was walking through the freezing rain, her body trembling as water seeped through her clothes. She had never been more determined - or more terrified - in her life.

The Sturniolos' house was a few doors away, its warm glow spilling onto the wet pavement. It was almost midnight, and she knew the triplets and their parents would be gathered inside, celebrating New Year's Eve together. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait for a "better" time or a "perfect" moment. Her time was now.

It had started hours earlier when she sat in her room with a notebook, jotting down her resolutions for the new year. She wanted 2025 to be different. She wanted it to be clean, honest, and full of things that truly made her happy. But one glaring thing wasn’t right - her feelings for Matt. She couldn’t go another year pretending she didn’t feel the way she did.

The rain fell down harder, and her breath came out in visible clouds as she approached the front door. The cold was relentless, but it barely registered compared to the storm inside her mind.

Her heart hammered as she pressed the doorbell. She could hear Trevor’s nails clicking on the hardwood floor as he bounded toward the door, his excited barking growing louder.

She smiled.

Of course. Having the triplets' parents in Los Angeles for New Year's had meant Trevor was here too.

Drops of water dripped down her face, mingling with her already damp hair, as she clenched her fists at her sides to stop the trembling. She didn’t know what she’d say when the door opened, but she knew she couldn’t leave without Matt knowing the truth.

The clock ticked closer to midnight.

11:50 PM.

Ten minutes until the new year. Ten minutes to change everything.

The door creaked open, and Matt showed up - not surprising, it was always Matt who got the door; Chris and Nick couldn’t be bothered most of the time. He stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob and his expression soft with curiosity.

Trevor bolted out before Matt could say a word, charging toward Y/N. His wet nose nudged her soaked leg, wagging his tail so hard it shook his whole body.

"Hey, boy." Y/N said softly, her voice trembling from the cold as she crouched down to scratch behind his ears. "I missed you."

Trevor barked once, happily, then turned and bounded back into the house, disappearing up the stairs toward the living room, leaving her alone with Matt.

Matt took a step forward, leaning against the doorframe. His brows knit together as his eyes swept over her, taking in the rain-slicked hair plastered to her face, her damp, trembling figure, and the strange look in her eyes - something between fear and anxiety.

"Y/N?" He asked cautiously, his voice quiet but edged with concern. "Hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay? It's almost midnight."

She wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at the wet ground beneath her feet.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just need to talk to you." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be quick, I promise."

Matt blinked in surprise, his gaze flickering toward the warm glow of the living room. He hesitated for a moment, then looked back at her.

"Okay." He said slowly, though his tone was laced with uncertainty. "But you should come inside. You’re soaked, and it’s freezing out here."

Y/N shook her head quickly, her voice catching as she replied.

"No. I can’t. I don’t even know if you’ll hate me after this, and I... I think it’s better if we stay out here."

Her words and the desperation in her eyes froze Matt in place. He let out a soft sigh, clearly torn, but he nodded.

"Okay." He repeated, his voice low. "Okay, we’ll stay here."

He stepped out fully onto the porch, the rain spilling over the edges of the roof above them. His hands were shoved into his hoodie pocket, and his expression was unreadable as he waited.

Y/N drew in a shaky breath, staring down at her soaked sneakers.

"Um... The first time we met." She began, cringing when her voice faltering slightly. "You completely threw me off guard."

Matt tilted his head slightly, confusion crossing his face, but he didn’t interrupt.

"I had heard so many amazing things about you on the internet." She continued, her words coming out in a rush. "When you and your brothers moved to LA, to my street, I thought I already had this perfect image of who you were. But then I actually met you."

She glanced up at him briefly before quickly looking away, unable to hold his gaze.

"You were more than I ever imagined. You exceeded every expectation I had in my head. You’re... so sweet, Matt. So kind. So human."

Her voice wavered, but she pushed on.

"You take care of people. You’re a gentleman, and you’re so thoughtful, always putting everyone else before yourself. And then we started spending all this time together. At your house, at mine, sleepovers, just... being with you."

Matt’s expression softened, but Y/N kept her eyes fixed on the ground.

"You were always there." She whispered. "And every time you were, you pulled at my heart a little more. You made a home inside it, Matt. You made it warmer. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you."

Her cheeks burned despite the cold rain.

"When I realized how I felt, I was terrified. I thought, 'Why would someone like Matt ever feel the same?'"

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N raised a hand, cutting him off.

"So I hid it." Her voice broke slightly as she added. "I buried it so deep because I couldn’t lose you. I wasn’t ever going to tell you, Matt. I wasn’t. But tonight..."

Y/N took another shaky breath, her fingers trembling as she pushed her damp hair back from her face.

"Tonight." She repeated, her voice quieter now but still steady. "I was sitting in my room, writing down my resolutions for the new year, as I always do, you know that. But then I started thinking about what I wanted for 2025, what I wanted my life to look like, the things I needed to fix, or let go of. And then I realized something." She hesitated, her chest rising and falling as she braced herself. "The one thing I haven’t been honest about with anyone is how I feel about you. And I can’t go into a new year carrying this secret anymore. I just... I can’t."

Matt’s brows knit together as she continued.

"I can’t stop thinking about you, Matt. I think about you all the time. Your laugh, your kind words, the way you’re always so thoughtful. The way you smile at me like I’m the only person in the room. Everything about you, every little piece of you, it’s always on my mind."

Her voice trembled, but she didn’t stop.

"Every time I see something, it reminds me of you. A song, a movie, even the smallest things, like the way the rain smells or the sound of someone laughing across the street. It all brings me back to you. You’re the only thing that never slips my mind, no matter what time of day it is."

Matt’s lips parted slightly, but he stayed silent, his hands still buried in his hoodie pockets as he listened.

"You’re my best friend." Y/N said, her voice breaking slightly. "But I want more. I need more."

Her eyes finally met his, and for a moment, she forgot the rain, the cold, and the fear pounding in her chest.

"I want to be called yours. I want to be seen by your eyes with love, not just as your friend. I want to be held by your hands, kissed by your lips... I want to be yours, Matt."

Tears mingled with the rain on her face as she finished, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"And I'm so sorry for damping all of this on you like that. I know it’s a lot, and I’m probably ruining everything right now. I-I never wanted to mess up our friendship-"

"Y/N-" Matt interrupted, his voice firm but gentle, but she didn’t even hear him, lost in the whirlwind of her thoughts.

"And I don’t want you to feel bad for rejecting it. I know you don’t feel the same way, because why would you? People like you never fall in love with people like me-"

"Y/N."

His voice was louder this time, cutting through her rambling like a sharp blade. She froze, her eyes widening as she finally looked at him.

"Y/N." He said again, softer now, his eyes locking with hers. "You're so silly. People like me fall in love with people like you all the time, actually."

"What?" She whispered, her voice barely audible. Her brows knitted together in confusion, her lips parting as if to say something else, but nothing came out of them.

Matt shook his head, a small, breathy laugh escaping his lips before he leaned in.

His hands found her waist, gripping her soaked shirt as he pulled her closer, and then his lips were on hers. The kiss was everything at once, soft yet intense, hesitant yet confident, warm despite the cold rain pouring down around them.

Y/N gasped softly against his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his messy hair. His lips were softer than she could’ve ever imagined, moving against hers with a fervor that sent shivers down her spine.

Their mouths opened, their tongues brushing and intertwining in a dance that felt both foreign and natural. The rain mixed with their saliva, the taste of each other blending with the crispness of the winter air.

Matt’s hands tightened on her waist, grounding her as her knees threatened to give way, and her fingers tugged lightly at his hair, earning a quiet groan from him that she felt more than heard.

The world around them seemed to fade away, the cold forgotten as their shared warmth became the only thing that mattered.

And then, like magic, the sound of fireworks exploded in the distance, the vibrant colors illuminating the dark, rain-soaked sky. Cheers and laughter echoed from nearby houses, and Y/N’s mind registered what was happening: midnight.

12:00 AM.

January 1st, 2025.

New Year's Day.

Slowly, they broke apart, their breaths mingling in the space between them as their foreheads rested together. Y/N’s heart was racing, her cheeks flushed despite the chill, and she could see the reflection of the fireworks in Matt’s eyes.

"Happy New Year." He whispered, his voice soft and filled with something she could only describe as love.

She laughed breathlessly, a smile breaking across her face.

"Happy New Year." She replied, her voice light despite the tears still glistening in her eyes.

Matt pulled back slightly, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"So... do you want to come inside now? I think you’ve been out in the rain long enough."

Y/N chuckled, nodding.

"Yeah, I think I do."

He reached for her hand, his fingers warm and steady as they intertwined with hers, and together, they walked inside the house, leaving the cold rain and the past year behind.

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splataii · 1 year ago

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bokutos got a size kink

i mean it definitely started innocently. he’s the typa guy to compare hand sizes with you as an excuse to hold your hand, and engulf you in his biceps when he picks you up for hugs. he melts whenever you cling to his side, and loves when u ask him to reach something on the higher shelves. being your big strong man is one of his favorite things, and he's so obvious about it. you can practically see his tail wagging.

but idk something definitely shifts the moment he has you between his thighs, barely able to wrap your hands around the base of his cock. just the way u look up at him, tears pricked in your eyes as you choke on his dick,, it's a miracle he even lasts. has him grabbing the back of your head and fuckin you even farther on his cock as he shoots load after load in ya, the image of your lips stretched around his fat dick replaying in his mind.

takes his sweet time playin w your pretty lil cock cause he loves how perfectly it fits in his hand. gets him so hard watching how easily u crumple into his arms as he jerks u off, and seeing how big his cock is in comparison to yours. next thing you know hes guiding your hands to wrap around his shoulder so he can tower over ya as he fucks u guys’ dicks together.

and don't let him catch you in his clothes. somethin about seeing how small his jerseys make you look has a switch going off in his brain. he just can't help himself from pulling you into his arms, and bouncing you on his cock till he can't even speak no more. mind too far gone to notice anything but the feeling of your boy pussy milking his cock, and the outline of his dick bulging out your tummy with every thrust as he claims you.

#nicky speaks☆#bottom male reader #bokuto x you #x male reader #walk w me yall walk w me please💆🏽

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movedblog-thesacrificialdove · 8 months ago

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tags hybrid puppy, breeding kink, knotting, master kink, humping

—📜" As much as you wish that owning a pup is easy, it’s not. You’re going to end up with a headache, missing clothes, and an aching hole at the end of the day. His rut is approaching and—oh dear, this is going to be bad.

When people tell you to get a pup, they don't tell you about the horrid responsibilities you have to go through.

It's always: 'They're such sweet things! You will always feel loved', 'Very loyal boys and girls', 'It's always going to be a joy around the house', and 'You have to be prepared to give them a lot of love. Ha. Ha. Ha.'

They don't tell you about the burden of actually having a pup.

"Fucking—Atlas! Drop that right now!"

Atlas, your newest pup, is bigger than your average pup. He's also a lot more handful than you imagined. A German Shepherd hybrid is often rare to come across in normal companion shops. Most are already taken by some older chap who wants some protection.

This one appeared at your doorstep. Now, he's currently running around your house with your socks in his mouth.

You groan, almost unable to keep up with him, "What is with you? Why're you so goddamn hyper?"

He tries to say something, though his words are muffled by the pair in his mouth. His tail wags behind him enthusiastically as you continue to miss him when you attempt a tackle.

Fastening out the living room, you try to keep up. "Atlas! Down boy!" He ignores you as he keeps manoeuvring inside your house. He ends up in the storage room, and you corner him there.

When you expect him to cower with nowhere to go, something else catches your attention. Atlas is rushing towards the corner behind some boxes. You peer; he has his old mattress covered in a cloud of your clothes.

"Fucking hell, Atlas," you sigh, "what is this?"

He looks at you like he has nothing to say. "What is what?"

"This? I thought I lost my sweatshirt, but—god, your fur is all over my pants!"

An unbothered look is plastered on his face. He sits on the pile of clothes happily before you start pulling them away.

Rushing, he goes after your cruel hand to take away your clothes. "Hey! That's mine!"

"No, it's not," you snatch your fucking underwear from the pile, "this is all mine, and I'm putting them all in the laundry."

"But what am I supposed to do if you're gone~?" he falls to his back and rolls around. His arms spread to cover all the clothes he could. He's too protective of your dirty clothes and you need to take them away now.

"Guard the house," you say. You kneel down on the mattress, tugging for the shirts. "Seriously, I would guess you're a retriever if I didn't see your papers."

He huffs. "Don't compare me with those sons of bitches." Atlas sits up, defeated. All of his work disappears into your arms. "I'm way better than all of them."

"Yeah, yeah." You need to come back to get the rest. With a grunt, you stand up and take them to the laundry room.

An extra pair of steps follows you there. Surprisingly, you turn to see that he's carrying the leftover clothes. "How nice of you to help for once," you say. "Just separate the whites, okay?"

The two of you fix your laundry. His tail sits low between his legs, a shy blush accompanying his downward ears. He's looking at your clothes like it's his arm—taken away forcefully by some evil monster. Which is you, by the way.

Overcome by his puppy looks, you throw a sweater in his direction. "Keep it," you say, "but if you take any more, I'm making you sleep outside."

He yips excitedly, cuddling the sweater by his chest as he's come alive again. That fucking easy to make this silly pup happy.

"Thank you so much~!" he giggles as he hugs you from behind. Seriously, is he a retriever? Atlas embraces you tight, pulling your body as close as possible to rid the distance between you.

You ignore him as you put your underwear away. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome, pup."

"My master is the best," he cooes, head nuzzling to your neck. His ears tickles.

Pulling away is impossible. He tightens his grip as he moves the both of you back and forth. "Absolutely the best," he says, his tongue licking under your ear and to your nape.

Suddenly, his innocent movements are not so innocent anymore.

"Y-yeah. Just let me down, Atlas." His embrace starts to become little humps. "Atlas!"

"Master," he breathes out, teeth feathering over your skin. "A-ah… I love Master's scent so bad," he giggles, loopy.

"Good for you, Atlas," with a rough hand, you attempt to pull away. It ends with him whining and pinning you down to the washing machine. "Fucking hell, Atlas..!"

For a fact, you know that his rut is nowhere near. You were planning to neuter him for your safety, and now he's grinding needily on your clothed cheeks. You struggle against his strength. All he does is disapprove of your rejections.

When he growls, it's your time to scold him. "Atlas," you harden your tone, "fix your attitude."

A pained whimper leaves him. Immediately, he backs away. Turning around, you can see his hardon through his shorts.

"S-sorry," he says, pulling down his shirt to try to have some decency. "Master, I'm just really happy to have something of yours. I'm getting really excited."

You can tell. "Yeah, but I'm busy doing laundry right now. Now I got more clothes to wash because of you. See my dilemma?"

For a split second, you can see his cock twitch in his trousers. You sigh. "Sorry," he says, "Can I… fuck, can I just maybe hump you? Please, Master? I'll be so careful."

One thing that they were right about pup boys is that they're needy. And that they're good at giving you those stupid puppy eyes everyone is irresistible to. You feel yourself giving into his whims.

"Fine," you say. His eyes light up like fireworks. "Don't get too carried away. I'm still sore from last night."

Last night: getting stuck on his knot for an hour before having to calm him down when you pull away.

Atlas is back to his excited self as he mounts you from behind. Thankfully, you've placed most of your clothes back in the machines now. He pulls down your shorts, spitting on his hand as he rubs your hole—Jesus.

"Be careful," you hiss, gripping the ends of the washing machine. "Seriously, I'm sore.

"Don't worry," he smiles. "I'll take care of my Master~"

Red rises to your face. Somehow, he makes the simplest thing sound so sexual. You try not to let it sink in but he keeps mumbling your name as he fingers you open.

"So open for me, Master," he moans, rubbing your insides and scissoring you open. He's breathing into your neck and his cock is pressed against your thighs.

The height difference between the two of you is making the angle a bit awkward. He pulls you up so one of your knees lays on top of the vibrating top of the laundry machine. He's breathing hard, turned on just watching your hole clench around his fingers.

A breathy laugh leaves him. "Mmph… I'm sorry, Master. I need to be inside you now—"

"Wait!"

You're not sure when he undressed himself. But he has a leg up as he fucks his cock inside of you. A guttural moan leaves you, overwhelmed by the sudden stretch. Though your body remembers his shape, you're still too sensitive for this.

"Master," he moans, panting as his tongue tickles your neck. "S-so good… You feel so good around me, Master. I wish you could feel it~!"

He puts both of your hands on your stomach, making you feel the little bulge in your stomach. His long pup cock is thick, reaching deep inside of you with the base of his knot already forming. He's too excited and you're sure he's in his rut.

Atlas fucks his cock deep inside of you. He tries to slow his movements as much as possible. Yet, you can feel him whimper and whine as he struggles to keep a tame pace. His mouth is dropped open as he pushes his cock as deep as possible—he has a need to imprint inside of you.

"Atlas," you breathe out, clenching around him. "Just fuck me already, pup. Breed me with your big fat knot."

Your words are immediate. If you could look back, you would see his ears perk up and his tail wag excitedly. Taking your word, he ruts inside of you as if his goal is to put a baby inside of you.

"Yes! Th-… thank you, Master!" he moans, hips slapping lewdly against your ass. "So fucking good, Master. I love it—hahh… I love your sloppy hole so much. S-sucking me in like you want to be bred by me~"

He's manic as he puts a hand on your hips. "So good, so good, so good, so~… good!"

You want to lay your head down. Each thrust hits you deep inside; it rubs against your sweet spot. You feel yourself go crazy as he doesn't care for your own pleasure. He's chasing his own climax, and it makes you clench around him in desperation.

"Maste-e-e-r," he drags out, burying his head in between your head and your neck. "Puppy wants to breed master so bad. Wanna—wanna see you round with puppy's seed. S-so good."

"Breed me, pup," you cry, whining as he's basically only grinding inside of you. You can feel his knot start to attempt to push in. "Get inside of me, pup. Let me have your seed."

"Ah, ah, ah~!" He screams as his knot spreads open your hole—it pushes inside and he's quivering. Your oversensitive hole is being stretched to its last extent. You can barely feel your legs as he's grinding his knot inside.

"So good," he moans. You can feel drool going down your shoulders. "M-master… I'm gonna cum. 'm gonna cum. Puppy's gonna cum inside ofMaster. Gonna-gonna fucking breed Masta-haaah..!"

Waves of his hot cum surges inside you. He's holding you tight; attempting to fill you to the brim, he doesn't let you leave his knot. You're left hanging there to take all of him. When he thrusts inside of you unexpectedly, you can't help the spurt of cum that comes out of you.

He feels you tighten more and groans. "S-so tight," he whines, wiggling his lips as if that would help. "Mmph. Master, you're so nice."

If you were in a better mindset, you would be criticising him. Saying that your compliance is his fault. Instead, you just lay there and take it.

A few minutes in, the haze leaves you and realisation punches you. "You little shit, your knot is gonna be in me for an hour!"

"…I think I'm going into rut, Master. I'll- er… I'll maybe last an hour or more."

"Atlas!"

Owning a pup boy is way too much work. You briefly consider giving him away to some adoption centre. Though he's too attached now, and you might find him back at your doorstep.

UPDATE ! 📢 @wiltedpoison @elloredef @alureasoley

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ shu_TMX

#[ 🐶 ] . ATLAS #oc x reader #male oc x reader #male oc x you #x reader #oc smut #smut #gender neutral reader #male x reader #male oc #original character x reader #original character x you #gn reader #puppy sub #dogboy #dogboy x reader #male sub

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vonlycsnn · 11 months ago

Note

Hello, author! Can I request Wise/ Licaon with reader-Vidyadhara (from honkai start real)? Reader shows love in an unusual way. Their dragon tail wags happily when Wise /Lycaon is around. Reader protects them even if reader are weaker. They give out ancient jewels and can also purr softly. Dragons are hard to trust, but the reader lets them touch their tail. The reader's actions scream "I LOVE YOU. I AM DEVOTED TO YOU FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE."

If you don't like the idea, then feel free to skip it. Anyway, I wish you all the best~

❈ — A DRAGON'S WAY OF AFFECTION

~ WISE AND VON LYCAON WITH (GN) VIDYADHARA! READER.

SUMMARY: AU - You're a Vidyadhara from the Xianzhou Loufu, travelling across the galaxy and visiting numerous planets just for the fun of it. One planet in particular is your absolute favorite to visit: Eridu-47. | You narrowly escape Thanatos with Wise (in Eous' body). Lycaon is surprised to see you at midnight.

cw/tw: mentions of (minor) injuries on Wise's part, other than that it's all fluff.

A/N: Crossover prompt! How exciting!! We need more playable Vidyadhara characters on hsr...they're such an interesting species. :0 Very sorry for taking so long with your request, and very sorry for not putting some of the actions you've said. :') Thank you for your request and for the kind words! Hope you enjoy reading this.

Breathing. All you could hear was your intense breathing.

You didn't know how long you were running for, but that didn't matter. What matters is getting out of this hollow ASAP. The only problem being that you were being chased by a highly dangerous ethereal.

You recall the moment Wise warned you about the beast. A very fast ethereal capable of slashing its prey in seconds—putting your guard down even for a single second could lead to your demise.

The two of you were terrified, but compared to the small bangboo tightly locked in your arms, deep down—you were the most terrified.

Never have you dealt with this kind of situation before. Sure, Yaoshi's abominations are tough to deal with, but they were more annoying than anything.

This? This was out of your league. You've only fought Ethereals once or twice since you've been here, so you basically had little experience on how to fight them.

But as you were overthinking about the situation, you heard Wise talking from Eous' little body.

"There it is! It's the exit!" It's a small hand/arm pointed forward.

You looked towards the direction it was pointing at; sure enough, the exit of the hollow was in front of you.

You picked up the pace, hoping that Thanatos would give up chasing you. Out of pure instinct, you threw the poor bangboo towards the exit before you could make it there yourself. Unbeknownst to you, Thanatos had created a scar on the back of your neck the second you got out of the hollow.

You trip and fall to the ground beneath you; your body slides against the pavement, creating some minor scratches on your body. But it was nothing you couldn't handle.

You tightly closed your eyes, now feeling the scar that the Ethereal created on the back of your neck.

You heard someone rushing towards you; soon after, you felt as if two people were looming over you.

"Belle, take them to the staff room. I'll recharge Eous in my room."

You heard a familiar voice, and you smiled gently when you realized who it was. You felt your tail wagging, sweeping dirt from the ground.

It was embarrassing to show this type of behavior in public, but you were too tired to care.

You sat up to see Belle in front of you, trying her best to help you. She took your arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, lifting you up to help you stand. But as you tried to listen to what she was saying, your vision became blurry, and then you passed out.

—

Your fingers played with your horns as you stared at the television in front of you. A blanket was moved aside to give you some space on the couch you were sitting on.

You've woken up 10 minutes prior, confused about what happened. Fortunately, Belle was here when you woke up and explained everything to you. She was always nice to talk to; she's optimistic and cheerful no matter the situation—its great.

But after a few minutes, she stood up from the couch and told you that she's going on a girls night out with Nicole and Anby. As she approached the door to leave the room, she looked at you and winked.

"Wise's making you some tea upstairs. Good luck with him, you hear?~" You heard her whisper.

And here you are now, sitting nervously as you overthink about Belle's words. Other than the bangboos inhabiting the store, it was only you and wise. You and wise. Your heart started to beat rapidly, and you looked to your side to see that your tail was wagging ever so slightly.

You tried to calm down, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Just as you were calming down though, you heard footsteps from upstairs...then they walked down the stairs.

Calm down, calm down. You can't let wise see you like this. It'll be embarr—

"Oh, hey, you're awake."

You jumped and snapped your head towards the door to see wisely at the doorway. He became concerned as he saw you breathing heavily, putting the two glass cups on the table behind the couch, and rushed to you.

"Sorry...did I scare you? Here. I made you tea."

He carefully picked up the cup and gave it to you. Still stunned by his presence, you shakingly accepted it. The cup felt warm; it wasn't too hot to the point where it could burn you. You smiled, and your tail wagged once more.

"It's nothing fancy. I don't know if the tea they serve on the Loufu is any different, but I hope you like it." Wise said.

You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he made. Your eyes closed as your taste buds danced with how good it was. Wise giggled at your reaction.

"I'm guessing that you enjoy it?"

"Mhm. It tastes slightly different than the ones from the Loufu...but still as delicious as any tea I've tried so far."

You held the cup up, inspecting it as if it were some piece of treasure. Wise laughed, but his attention was quickly stolen by your tail wagging constantly beside you. He smiled.

"Are you that happy to see me? Every time we meet in person, your tail always wags."

You paused your drinking, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your own behavior. You avert your gaze, trying to hide your red face from wise. He moved closer to you upon seeing your reaction.

"Hey, it's okay! I'm happy to see you as well; you shouldn't be risking your life in that hollow though..." He reminded you. You looked at him straight in the eyes, opening and closing your mouth as you struggled to get a word out.

"I-i just wanted to keep you safe...and Eous. Yeah." You awkwardly explained to him. Wise sighed, grabbing the blanket behind him and throwing it over your shoulders.

"Get some rest before you leave. You deserve it." Wise said. His voice was so comforting to you; it was soft and pleasant to your ears. You quietly purred.

"Oh right. Forgot to ask; did you bring back the videotape you rented a while back?" Wise asked. You froze in place.

You've completely forgotten that you rented a videotape from here a few weeks ago. And today was the deadline.

"I...may have forgotten it back in the Loufu. Haha."

You paced back and forth. Completely deep in your thoughts. You looked absolutely ridiculous in public, but people were too busy minding their own business to look at you weird.

In your hands was a box that looked like nothing from this world.

Of course it wasn't; it's a box containing the finest souvenirs from the Xianzhou Loufu. You held it close to your chest, preventing anyone from potentially stealing it. Or even worse, breaking the precious and fragile souvenirs inside. That would be a disaster. You'd have to pay a good amount of money to the seller you bought these from.

Sitting on the bench behind you, you quickly pulled out your phone. Looking at your contacts to find a specific person, he was the reason you came here in the first place.

A smile formed on your face when you saw his name; your scaled tail wagged simultaneously. But as you hovered your finger on the screen to click on his profile, you hesitated.

It was already late at night by the time you were here, so contacting him now wouldn't be ideal. You sighed, putting your phone back in your pocket, and stood up. Simply accepting that tomorrow morning would be a more appropriate time to give him the box.

You turned around to pick up the box, only to realize that it was gone. Your eyes widen at the sight, and your heart beats fast as you panic. You frantically looked around to see if anyone had taken it purposely or mistakenly.

That's when you heard it. From your pointy ears, you heard the echoes of rapid footsteps coming from your left. You snapped your head in the direction of the sound; sure enough, you saw a figure running towards the gross alleyways of lumina square.

"STOP. STOP IT. YOU THIEF."

You quickly chased him down as confused bystanders backed away in fear. The hooded man with your box created all sorts of obstacles to slow you down, from kicking down stacks of empty boxes to straight up pushing down a dumpster.

Unfortunately for him, this was nothing to you. Like any of the other Vidyadhara from the Loufu, you were athletic. Easily dodging the obstacles the man created.

He looked over his shoulder to see that you were almost caught up to him. He whimpered in fear, but just as he was about to pick up the pace to lose you, he tripped on something heavy and metallic. The impact nearly broke his foot in the process.

The box flung upwards, but thankfully someone effortlessly caught it with one hand. As you ran closer to the scene, you frozen. Tail wagging once more as you saw a tall, well-dressed wolf thiren standing in front of you. One of his prosthetic legs was stepping on the thief's back as a way to restrain him.

"Oh?" The man said. It was a familiar voice—the voice that makes you fall to your knees mentally every time you hear it.

"L-lycaon! I didn't expect you to be here at this hour." You expressed your shock to him.

"The same would apply to you. I wouldn't have expected to see you here in Eridu-47."

As Lycaon said that, he felt the man below him wiggling himself to try and escape. The thiren's eye glowed as a warning, and the hooded man squealed in fear as he finally pleaded guilty for his actions.

"I-i-im sorry! It won't happen again! I promise! I swear! I-i—"

The hooded man begged. Lycaon crouched and leaned towards the side of the man's face, whispering something directly to his ear.

You couldn't hear it, but you know Lycaon said something terrible when the man screamed in fear and quickly ran away the second Lycaon removed his leg from his back.

You were kind of scared, of course, but it was Lycaon. You trusted him dearly, and he has proved his sincerity many times before. So, you didn't question anything. Lycaon looked at you in relief, now holding the box full of goods with both of his hands.

"Apologies for my unbefitting behavior just now. I believe this belongs to you."

He handed you the box; he looked at you so softly that you couldn't help but stare at his face for a few seconds.

But you snapped out of your thoughts and declined. Lightly pushing the box back towards him. Of course, he was confused. Then you explained to him.

"It's for you, silly! No need to give it back to me." You giggled; you could see his one eye widen in surprise.

"My...you're too kind. I don't deserve such treatment from the likes of you." He said. You saw his ears twitching and his tail ever so slightly wagging from this; you smiled. Holding back a laugh.

He looked down at the box, now noticing that it's tightly sealed. Preventing anything from falling out.

"And what awaits me inside this box, may I ask?" He asked you.

One hand was gently placed on top of the box while the other held the bottom part so as not to let it fall to the break.

You walked closer to him, looking upwards to his face as you smiled widely.

"Inside are exclusive items from the Xianzhou Loufu. How about you open it and see for yourself? W-well, maybe not in this dirty alleyway at least." You awkwardly laughed. The thiren merely chuckled, gently taking your hand.

"Then I know just the place. If I may?" Your eyes widen when he offers you this; your horns glowed brightly as you felt your tail wagging. You smiled, nodding at his offer.

"Lead the way, dear attendant." You playful said. He laughed.

"Please. Just call me Lycaon."

Then the two of you walked out of the alleyway, admiring the nightly scenes of lumina square as Lycaon guided you to the rooftop of a building.

You smiled widely; tonight turned out better than you expected it to be. You couldn't wait to see his reaction to the items inside the box, and quite frankly, you were just very happy to be by his side.

Oh, what a happy little dragon you are right now.

#n-writes #zenless zone zero #zzz #zzzero #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz x reader #von lycaon #zzz wise #von lycaon x reader #zzz lycaon #wise x reader #zzz wise x reader #not very proud of this but i still you all enjoy this!#honkai star rail #vidyadhara

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