#he should get to know how much he is loved. because it's so much. it's so so much.

[cutiefulism]

cw. established relationship, reader is a perv n a tease, caleb is sort of a perv here too ithink, idk they are both freaky n they match 💔 this is to make up for the bs i posted like two days ago! also i am tempted to try out smaller text.. should i poll it

boyfriend!caleb who swears you’re sooo innocent. the first few months of any relationship are the most tumultuous ones, and you’re shy. he knows he has to tread lightly and carefully, to cement the fact that he loves you unconditionally and always will, that it isn’t just about sex. plus, this is your first real relationship. he doesn’t want to scare you off and screw this up by being too hasty, despite feeling like he’s wearing combat boots while traveling through eggshells.

but, god, are you hard to resist.

it’s like you don’t even know how just how hard he gets when you wear those thin tops that do nothing to hide your pert nipples or when you send him pictures of those dangerously short skirts — the ones where, with just a wave of his hand, could lift up and reveal the dainty, soaked panties you have on underneath.

if he could bring himself to hate anything you do, he’d say he hates it when you send them those photos at work the most, because then he’s forced to leave a meeting or kick a subordinate out of his office just to rub one out. :((

caleb’s thoughts are just so filthy, too — ranging from using your pretty tits to get off to just keeping you home and spending all day, everyday stuffing your cunt full of his cum until the two of you have at least five kids.

but even he knows that’s far too fast for the two of you. no part of him has ever been inside you (save for his tongue when you two make out), and yet here he is, fantasizing about debauching his sweetheart of a girlfriend.

shame on him.

but it’s not like you aren’t thinking the same.

you like walking around his cold house with no bra and a flimsy little camisole. you like wearing tiny shorts with no panties to sleep or short skirts that is, really, but a scrap of fabric. you like accidentally brushing your foot against his crotch during dinner or shifting far too much in his lap whenever you two are watching a show.

caleb’s reactions are priceless — the way his breath gets caught in his throat, how his soft cheeks grow a dusty pink, the subtle jerk of his hips or adjustment of his hardening cock in his pants . .

how could you resist provoking him more, especially when you know he’s doing so much to hold back?

you’ve heard him, whether it be when he’s in the shower, the door cracked open just enough for you to peer in, or late at night when he thinks you’re asleep, fucking his fist like a hormonal teenager or, worse (in his eyes), humping the bed. it’s like he forgets that you’re right there, that you could pop into the bathroom for something while he’s moaning your name or wake up mid-orgasm and watch all that cum go to waste on his toned abs or thighs.

it’d be so easy to interrupt. a little too easy, actually, as if he’s subconsciously wishing that you would catch him and scold him for being so perverted, so disgusting.

but you won’t, no matter how badly you want to take his dick into your mouth and clean it up until he’s quivering with the force of another orgasm or slip into the shower behind him and help him work himself over with softer and smaller hands.

you’ll keep playing the long game, teasing caleb with feigned naivete, sending him pretty pictures while he’s at work and pushing him further and further to the brink until he has no choice but to snap and take you for himself, ripping clothes and spitting and spanking.

there’s only so much a man can take, after all, and he’s undeniably weak to you.

[afterglowsainz]

do i wanna know? | oscar piastri

pairing: female!reader x oscar piastri

summary: during a stream, your best friend lando casually says that you cannot physically listen to arctic monkeys because they remind you too much of your ex, so everyone is surprised when you get caught listening to them

fc: emily alyn lind

a/n: i know i’m a week late, but fic for the chinese grand prix winner (!!!!!) (also i know this man only listens to house music but i don’t like that genre so i kinda did whatever i wanted)

—

liked by f1gossip, f1wags and others

landonorrisupdates lando on his most recent stream saying his best friend y/n can’t listen to arctic monkeys without crying

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username lando omg 😭😭

username he did NOT had to expose her like that

username god save me from friends like lando

username he’s so annoying sibling coded because WHAT would prompt him to say this out loud

username y/n girl you’re stronger than me 😔

username i think y/n should be allowed to punch lando on the face every time he exposes her

username this is why you can’t associate your favorite band with boyfriends

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

yourusername a little quadrant bts 🎥🎾💋

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username she’s gonna eat as always

username i need that set actually

username insane face economy

maxfewtrell 😎

username lando couldn’t convince me to buy quadrant merch but y/n might

username y/n did you listen to the arctic monkeys new album?

username plsss 😭

username leave her alone she’s just a girl!

oscarpiastri’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 🎶 505 - arctic monkeys]

liked by oscarpiastri, pietra.pilao and others

yourusername plus vibe activity✨✨✨

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username gorgeous 🤭💗

username loveeee the aesthetic

username when we were young is such a vibeee

landonorris good song

yourusername 🤐

username plsss he’s still in time out 😭

maxfewtrell bring me some pizza

yourusername no

pietra.pilao pleaseee? 💘

yourusername only for you 🫶🏽

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername turns out monaco is a real place and not just a bad bunny song

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charles_leclerc 🤨

username crazy how she’s been friends with lando for years and she’s just in monaco for the first time

username what force on earth pushed her to visit that place

landonorris heyyyy 🤪🤪

yourusername immediately no i’m going back

username the outfits!!!

username i would’ve compare it to that selena gomez movie but okay

yourusername omg i should’ve said that 😭😭

username how iconic of her to be a selena gomez and a bad bunny fan

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and others

oscarpiastri exploring (my new home) 🏡

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username oscar piastri soft launching on main ????‼️

username he moved to monaco 😭

username leave it to oscar piastri to drop two insane news at once

username i know charles is proud to see his son 😔

charles_leclerc proud!

oscarpiastri 👊🏽

username WHO is that

username guys don’t call me crazy but … y/n?

username lando’s friend?

username no wayyyy 😭

username idk it doesn’t really look like her

mclaren’s tiktok

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: favorite romcom of all time💗]

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and others

yourusername what a beautiful place shanghai 🪷

tagged oscarpiastri

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username i’m confused

username the hard launching hard launch

username oscar was soft launching y/n ???? 😭

username the twitter girlies knew and they called them crazy

username never again.

username ohhh so THIS is why she was listening to arctic monkeys again

yourusername 🤭

username he kissed her. right after getting out of the car. 😭

username may this love find me

landonorris WHAT

landonorris NOOOO

landonorris go back to being a couple in secret

yourusername no ❤️

oscarpiastri beautiful indeed

yourusername 😁🫶🏽

[apatheticsunday]

Adopt a Bat Dad

AKA "Danny becomes de-aged in Gotham and finds the only person he knows who can probably help. Bruce Wayne, the Batman. Except Bruce thinks Danny is a kid mistaking him for his dad??" prompt idea!!

HC that Bruce Wayne and Jack Fenton look super similar. Therefore, Danny and Bruce also look pretty similar!!

I love the idea that Danny already knows Bruce Wayne is Batman. Maybe it's his aura or because the amount of kids Bruce has directly correlates to the amount of bat-themed sidekicks there are. Who knows? Anyway, Danny comes into a small bit of trouble. He may or may not have insulted an immortal witch who cursed him because he's an "immature child, may as well look as young as you act!"

So. Now Danny looks a solid 3-4 years old. It's a good thing that Sam and Tucker briefed him on all he celebrity gossip before he came to Gotham, because he coincidentally knows where the Wayne Enterprise building is. He... can figure it out. Probably. It's actually alarming how many people watch what they think is an unaccompanied kid huff and puff his way in downtown Gotham. (Also, wow, Danny severely underestimated how difficult it is to run after being babified.) But he does make it to the general area of where WE is supposed to be!

His legs are practically shaking at this point, sweating through his toddler-sized NASA hoodie, and searching frantically for Bruce Wayne. Because he really didn't think of it before, but it's Friday afternoon. What if Mr. Batman isn't at WE today? What if Danny gets to WE after 5pm and he's gone until Monday? Would Danny even be able to find the Wayne Manor, much less get transportation there?

Except as Danny's becoming increasingly worried (don't cry, don't cry, don't cry), he spots... his dad?? in the coffee shop windows beside him. No, not his dad. Bruce fucking Wayne! Hell, yeah! Danny smacks open the doors of the coffee shop with single-minded toddler-clumsy determination. Makes a bee-line straight to the coffee pick-up. Bruce Wayne is standing off to the side, quietly speaking on his phone, as Danny practically slams face-first into his knees. Thankfully, it doesn't take either of them down, but it is particularly embarrassing.

Especially when Danny clutches to Batman's pant leg and confidently shouts, "Batman!" Except... he doesn't. A weird jumble of words come out of his mouth that sound more like baba! It's like the world screeches to a stop because, first of all, what the fuck. Second, that bitch witch! She must've made it so whatever he says comes out in toddler-speak despite the fact that he should be able to say somewhat comprehensible sentences, being he's physically 3-4.

That doesn't stop him from trying, though, so he ends up babbling baba, baba, baba in an increasingly frustrated tone.

And Bruce Wayne, who's become used to Damian calling him baba instead of Father, can only stare down at this child who could pass as his clone. The similarities are striking. Even if the toddler is huffing, red-cheeked and clearly on the verge of crying, he looks so much like Bruce that he wonders momentarily if it's another Damian situation.

Regardless, there's a kid crying in front of him, tugging on his pant leg and calling for his dad. And Bruce is nothing if not absolutely weak-hearted against stuff like this. So, he leans down and just... scoops the kid up. Murmurs, "Shh, it's okay, kiddo. You're okay." Pats the kid's back, sways. Completely forgets he's in a crowded coffee (this is definitely going on YouTube, posted under 'Wayne Adopts Another??') and that he's on a phone call with Dick. It's like his Dad Instincts kick in and he's completely focused on Danny.

Danny is... bewildered. Because why is the Batman coddling him?? Except he notices that others have noticed, and have their phones out recording, which is really Not Good. He's not super confident that his parents would be able to recognize him while he's de-aged, but the fact that they might? That's opening a can of worms he can't handle at the moment. So his little string bean arms loop around Bruce's neck and he shoves his face into the collar of the man's suit. Much to his irritation, he can hear several girls next to him coo and giggle about him being such a cute baby. Danny's really regretting not approaching Batman privately now.

And it doesn't end!!

Bruce calms the kid down and then immediately goes to the store manager, asking if any parents have lost their child. He doesn't trust that someone may claim Danny as theirs when that may not be the case. Then, he calls up Gordon, asks about any missing person reports on a child the ages of 2-5 with average height, medium build, and black hair. No hits. Eventually, Bruce makes up his mind and takes Danny home with him. Oracle will likely be able to pull more information than the GCPD anyways.

Meanwhile, Danny zonks out. Like full on, toddler-sprawl open-mouth drooling, because it's been a long day and he got Batman. He did it! And from the way Bruce is still carrying him, Danny will likely be with him for a little while. A little catnap will do him some good. Maybe when he wakes up, he'll magically have the ability to speak normally instead of hysterically babble.

(Four hours later, Danny wakes up on the couch at Wayne Manor, bundled up in super soft blankets with Bruce talking on the phone with some woman. Bruce smiles at the way Danny says baba again. Danny's ready to throw that witch into Bruce's well-maintained fireplace because screaming son of bitch isn't as satisfying when it sounds like sa-bA-BAH!!")

Cue Danny doing increasingly ridiculous things to make The "Greatest Detective" Batman realize he's not a literal baby and Bruce Wayne so enamored with this little kid that he does not realize.

[bunny-jpeg]

not second best

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, redbull driver!reader, teammates au, jealousy, possessiveness, missionary, dirty talk, rough sex

"if you could be teammates with anyone else, who would it be?"

you stood in front of the camera and thought on it for a moment before you answered, "oh, easy! i'd choose charles! i'd say we're pretty close and i'm hopeful this year is the year we wins... but he'd have to beat me first!" then winked at the camera with your hands on your hips.

your teammate, max, was behind the camera and his ears were burning. he knew the question was a joke, but he didn't want to see his favourite teammate be on the same team with his most loathed rival.

in the hotel room, max's hand lingered across your back a little more as he guided you away from your hotel room and towards his. his nose brushed against your neck, taking in your scent before he went to open the door.

when he got the door closed behind you two, his hands were on you once more. his lips at your neck and between kisses he asked, "you'd pick, charles, huh?"

you squeaked, "they said pick someone else." you looked into max's eyes, "we're already teammates." and your eyes went a little wide as he pressed himself further against you. you two have had sex before, it was no secret - with the amount of time you spent together it was inevitable.

"could have picked anyone else." he said lowly as he rubbed up against you further and touched your chest, "you know how i feel about him. how he gets under my skin. i wouldn't want anyone to be on the same team as you. you're mine."

you knew his reaction was overbearing, but you knew that max deeply cared for you. he yearned for you deeply. the thump of his heart was in time with how much he adored you, needed you. so the idea of charles taking you away from him only poked at something in his brain.

you gasped when he bit into the skin of your neck, you knew it would bruise. but something curled in your gut as you felt the a certain lust wash over you.

"you're red bull or nothing." he said lowly, "by my side, or off the track." he said as he started to play with the front of your jeans, "i don't want charles to get the wrong idea, so tonight. i'm going to make sure you firmly remember who you belong to." he placed another kiss on your neck before you ended up in the bedroom and on the bed.

you could have said no, you could have stood your ground and had him slink away with his tail between his legs. but there was something about the domineering max that just made you wet. the looked in his eye, cold, commanding. he looked like the villain that everyone thought of him as.

you took off your branded t-shirt and you felt his gaze linger on your breasts. he licked his lips and you got your bra off, slowly your jeans came off too along with the rest of your under garments. socks throw in two different directions and your panties on the other side of the bed. max was quicker to get undressed before he got on top of you in bed. he pushed you up against the pillows and gazed down at you.

his cock was fully erect. you knew he got off to submitting you under him. he told you once that he liked when you posed a challenge on the track because that meant he could fuck you harder. a real champion can take anything, he told you once when he had you in a headlock and bullied your poor pussy.

"look at you." he said as he hiked your hips up closer to him, "see, this is what no other driver can have. you're just so sweet on the track, you're their little star. but you need someone to actually keep you safe. and charles would never do that." max said lowly and rubbed the tip of his cock up against you, "too trusting. you should only be trusting me."

you swallowed, "please, max." you held onto the pillows under your head and you lifted your hips a little to give him better access to your cunt. you were wet and max knew it. he loved that he carried that bit of control over you, easily making you soaked between your legs.

he remembered after a rough practice he spent what felt like half an hour rubbing your cunt through your driver's suit and he knew that you raced the next round with stickiness between your legs. risky move, but max had to plant those seeds early.

that after formula one, you wouldn't become an engineer or a reporter, or whatever else ex-drivers seemed to do. no, you'd be max's wife. and hopefully married after after that season ended.

he looked at you and licked his lips. you met his gaze as he sank his cock into you. you arched your back a little and he relaxed against you. and so did you. he planted his hands on either side of you, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips as you wrapped your legs around him.

"look at you." he said.

you shifted yourself on the bed a little and reached for him. your arms wrapped around his neck. you held on while he moved against you. pleasure moved through both of you. you loved the feeling, even with max's harsh words, you still felt affection for him. both as a teammate and a lover.

"i'm always looking out for you." he said, he drank in the sight of your face, "i want you well, i want you safe. and i want you as mine." his strokes started to move faster, he felt a slight fire in his gut from the feeling of his cock buried inside of you slick pussy.

you were on birth control, but still it was a risk to take you this way. to have him bare inside of you. but, it eased his jealousy just a little bit to know that he was the only man to ever take you this bare. to take you as his, all his.

"please, max. it feels so good." you encouraged him as you held on tighter, the pleasure was growing in your core as he rutted against you. there was something about how his cock moved inside of you that hit all the right areas that made your eyes roll a little out of pleasure.

"you don't know what you do to me." he said lowly, "i don't want you to ever think about having another teammate ever again. i want you to only need me by your side. matching cars, matching uniforms." matching last names.

he continued to thrust into you, he held onto the bedding a little tighter and felt the sweat at his brow. it was hot between you two. the movements of him against you only had you holding onto you tighter.

"max. fuck."

"i know, it feels good. you love how you feel under me. do you like being my teammate?"

you nodded and your nails nipped at the back of his neck as you held on, you swallowed before you said, "i love being your teammate, max. you know that!"

"do you want another teammate? want another man to fuck you the way i do?"

you shook your head, "never. never in a million years. i want us to win the constructor's this year!" you arched your back a little when his cock nudged against just the right spot that made you feel tingly all over. he laid another heated kiss on your lips and continued to fuck you quickly and roughly.

the headboard slammed against the wall from the force that he was fucking with you. you whined into the kiss and he held onto your hips tightly, you were pinned under him while he fucked you. he felt your body quake under him, the feeling of heat under your skin. you were the sparks in his brain and the fuel in his blood.

fucking you was the same intensity as driving. except he could let his mind grow hazy with each powerful thrust. to know you'd never want another meant the world to him, to know that you were all his. you moaned against his lips and clawed down his strong back.

you didn't last much longer. you broke the kiss and made a strong yet whiny noise as you came around his cock. you arched your back and squeezed your eyes shut as you climaxed. it only spurred him on, it made his heart hammer along with yours. the pleasure flooded your head and after you reached your peak, you let go of him and let him have his wicked way with you.

"beautiful." max said as he continued to fuck you strong thrusts. he left himself feel all of you, every inch of you felt warm under him. you were sweaty and hot. he licked his lips and the pleasure throbbed in his body.

"please, max. i'm sorry that i made that comment. i knew i couldn't pick you." you whined.

max kissed at your neck, "next time, pick someone else. alex, george, even carlos. just not charles, i won't let that sweet talker take you from me." you could feel the possessiveness in his tone.

he knew he was close, with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. he groaned under his breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. your cunt fluttered around him and he drank in the feeling. you felt amazing, warm all over and so soft. he knew he had to have you always.

"perfect." he cooed before he pulled out and laid out next to you in bed. he cupped your face with his large hand. those large hands on your soft skin. he leaned in, "tell me again."

you opened your eyes and asked, "tell you what?"

"that you don't want charles."

you shook your head, "i don't want charles. only you, max." and you curled up closer to him. his touches were more gentle, the jealous beast in him calmed down. for now.

-

"if you could be teammates with anyone else, who would it be?"

you thought about it for a moment, the reminder of last time tickled in your gut. but quickly you looked back to the camera and said, "i'd have to pick, lando! he got really close to the wdc last year, but if we were teammates he'd have a little more competition."

and you knew behind the camera, max verstappen was seething. <3

[trashytracktales]

My love….i need some ANGST. Like make me cry….then make me wet 😱😅

IM SORRY ITS BEEN ONR OF THOSE DAYS and your posts always make the day better.

Final call | LN⁴

📞 summary ──── Lando thought that ending things was the right decision. But he never really let go. When one final, desperate call pulls her back into his orbit, old wounds resurface, anger and longing collide, and the lines between love and heartbreak blur.

📞 pairing ──── Lando Norris x (she/her) ex!reader

📞 rating ──── explicit

📞 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, mentions of drinking, Lando struggling with withdrawals from his usual life, drunken texts, heavy angst and arguments, swearing, heartbreak, power struggles between both characters, smut, fingering with teasing and edging, unprotected sex, praise, desperation, overwhelming pleasure leading to emotional vulnerability, begging, multiple orgasms, post-sex tenderness, crying (I need to touch some grass fr fr).

📞 word count ──── 12.8k

📞 date ──── Mar. 30, 2025

📞 a/n ──── Been working on this for over a month now. It feels like a fever dream, I have no words. Enjoy whatever this is and I apologize in advance 🤧

IT IS A random Saturday night during the winter break, and Lando would rather stay home. But he’s spent the last two months buried in the same routine; rinse and repeat. It’s been easier that way, keeping himself too busy to think, and too exhausted to feel anything else.

This time around, his friends have been quite insistent, pushing him to get out of his self-imposed isolation.

“Come on, mate,” said Max, his frustration evident in every word he uttered, even through the speaker, “One night won’t kill you. Everyone is expecting you to be there.”

“Why would they?” asked Lando, not particularly interested in Max’s answer.

“Because I told them you’ll come. Now, don’t make me a liar, and get your athletic physique up. I’ll get to yours in five.”

Lando tried to argue at first, but Max wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, eventually, after what felt like ages of back-and-forth, he caved, mostly out of morbid curiosity.

Now, standing in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by laughter and music, he wonders why he agreed, after all. When he’s not in the mood to party or to be around people in general, everything is suddenly way too loud, too annoying, and nothing satisfies him. The air is thick with a weird combination between spilled liquor and various perfumes, adding to his irritation.

Avoiding to make a scene, Lando shifts awkwardly, nursing a drink, half-listening to whatever story Connor is animatedly telling. He feels bad when he realizes that he hasn’t seen most of his friends since the breakup, but he knows they’ve only been giving him the space he needed, waiting for him to bounce back.

But Lando hasn’t. He’s just gotten better at pretending things are going the right way. Fake it until you make it, or whatever.

“Landooo,” Max says suddenly, nudging him out of his thoughts. “Look who I ran into!”

Lando turns and his eyes lock on her, her alluring presence catching him off guard.

“This is Eva,” Max continues, “An old friend of mine.”

He can’t help but think how effortlessly beautiful she is, all bright eyes and easy smiles, with the kind of confidence that makes people gravitate toward her instinctively.

“Hey,” the girl says, offering him a playful smirk. “I was starting to think you were just a figment of Max’s imagination.”

Lando forces a chuckle. “Yeah, well. I haven’t been… around much.”

Eva tilts her head, taking him in. “That’s a vague answer.”

Max claps a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “He’s just being mysterious. It’s part of his charm, you’ll see.”

Lando rolls his eyes, but plays along. He knows what Max is doing, but he doesn’t call him out on it.

Because maybe Max is right. Maybe he should try.

And so he does.

He engages in conversation, letting himself slip into the rhythm of it. Eva is funny and easy to talk to. She makes it effortless, steering their interaction in a way that keeps his mind from wandering. As the night progresses, they end up dancing, and hands are suddenly everywhere while the music envelops them like a protective dome.

At some point, he offers to buy her another drink, and she smiles, nodding at Lando’s initiative.

“I’d like that,” she admits, her eyes sparkling under her eyelashes.

They weave through the crowd toward the bar, and as they wait, she leans in a little closer. It’s subtle at first — a touch to his shoulder when she laughs, then her fingers grazing his bicep. Lando notices it, but he doesn’t react. Not until he feels her fingertips brush against his hand. At that, he looks down and sees the way her small hand lingers against his, making his chest tighten.

She’s watching him with anticipation in her expression, waiting for him to do something. Anything. To respond, to take her hand in his, to let this moment be what it’s supposed to be.

Lando closes his eyes for a fraction. Then he pulls his hand away. Eva’s face doesn’t fall, but something shifts in her eyes; the spark goes away, being replaced by something Lando can’t quite decipher. Confusion, perhaps? Understanding, maybe? Pity, for sure.

She nods, taking a step back, putting distance between them. “Right,” her voice is light, but unbothered. “Cheers for the drink, Lando. I should get back to my friends.”

Lando swallows, guilt gnawing at him. “Eva, it’s not that I don’t—”

She stops him with a tiny smile hanging in the corner of her mouth. “Don’t have to explain yourself to me, darling. It was fun meeting you, hope to see you around. Have a nice night.”

And with that, she’s gone.

He watches her disappear into the crowd, debating going after her or scanning the place to find someone else.

Finally, Lando turns back to the bar, giving his head a little shake.

Well, that went well.

He downs the rest of his drink in one go and signals for another. The liquid burns his throat, but it’s still not enough. He needs more, now that he’s alone. Just for tonight.

As Max said, it won’t kill him.

A few minutes later, Lando returns to his people with another drink in hand. He looks much more relaxed, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s still there, somewhere, lost among the lonely nights spent in his apartment, buried under the lies he told his friends just to be left alone.

Max spots him first and frowns, “Mate, where’s Eva?”

Lando shrugs, “I think she didn’t like my bucket hat.”

Max squints in his direction, clearly unimpressed. “You didn’t even try, did you?”

He did, but won’t bother explaining that to Max. It’s not the time nor the place and, taking a slow sip of his new drink, Lando doesn’t answer, ending the conversation there.

HIS PLACE IS drenched in darkness, exactly how he left it, when Lando stumbles in. He kicks off his shoes haphazardly, muttering a curse as one skids across the floor.

So, Max’s plan hadn’t helped; nothing ever does. He had laughed at all the right moments, sipped at overpriced drinks, and told himself he was having fun. But the ride home had been silent, his thoughts crashing against him like a lost boat against the waves in the middle of a storm.

His friend offered to stay over, but didn’t insist when Lando told him he was okay; two months of pretending he was.

Two months of convincing himself he made the right choice, that he needed space to figure out who he was outside of them. He told himself he needed to be alone and focus on his work, because the aftertaste of the last season still lingers. He wants to see his dream manifesting before his eyes, and he knows that comes with a set of sacrifices. He is ready, but how far is he willing to go? What else is he willing to give up?

Because all he’s done in her absence is slowly descending into madness.

With a defeated sigh, Lando collapses onto the couch. His head falls back against the cushions, just as his phone starts buzzing into his pocket. He doesn’t need to check it to know it isn’t her. She hasn’t reached out since the day she walked away, her face crumpling in defeat as she whispered, I can’t keep fighting for something you clearly don’t want.

The memory of her face still haunts him, because he knows now, just as he knew then, that he should have fought harder. He wishes he had at least tried. Although he also knows it wouldn’t have been fair to either of them, because the mental state he was in at the time would’ve made everything worse for both of them.

Without thinking too much of it, his thumb finds her little icon, and before he can stop himself, Lando starts typing.

10:24 PM: Hey, you up?

10:24 PM: Sorry.

10:26 PM: Can we talk?

10:30 PM: You ever think about us?

10:35 PM: Forget I said anything.

10:39 PM: No, actually, don’t. You were everything. You ARE everything.

10:39 PM: I may be a little bit drunk, but I fucking miss you, baby…

10:41 PM: I don’t miss you because I’m drunk BTW. I just miss you.

10:41 PM: All the time.

10:45 PM: Was I ever enough for you? Like, in general… do you think we could’ve made it work?

10:47 PM: God, I hate you for making me question myself like this.

10:58 PM: I don’t hate you. I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you.

11:59 PM: Remember when we went to Lake Como and got lost trying to find that little café? I think about that all the time. It started raining, and we both got sick, then we stayed in bed for a week.

11:08 PM: Are you happy?

11:10 PM: Please, say something.

11:10 PM: I know I ended this, but don’t ignore me.

11:10 PM: Please…

On the other side of the city, she’s sitting across from a man who could be plucked from a brochure for Monaco’s elite. His posture oozes confidence and he’s immaculate, from the tailored suit to his charm that has her smiling politely but distantly. He’s nothing like Lando, and she noticed that from the first date. That’s the reason why she agreed to go out again. And again.

Now, she’s four dates in, and she tries to convince herself she could get used to seeing this man as something more. But it’s not that easy when all he talks about is crypto currency and boats.

Suddenly, her phone starts buzzing, a succession of vibrations that she tries to ignore at first.

Once.

Twice.

Three-four-five-six-seven times.

When it keeps going, she excuses herself to glance at the screen, and her stomach twists as she sees his name. What freaks her out at first is that only now she realizes that she never changed his contact name, and LANDO ♥︎ now occupies both the entire size of her screen and her entire mind.

“Is everything okay?” her date asks, his voice cutting through her haze.

She blinks, confused, “I’m sorry, yeah,” she says, a wave of heat crawling up her chest and neck. “I forgot to put it on silent.”

A deep ache settles in between her lungs as she touches the icon to silent her phone. She wishes she could do that to her brain right now, because all of a sudden, her entire world starts spinning faster.

It’s the first time he’s reached out since he ended things. For her, this is monumental. But she shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t even be tempted to read whatever nonsense he keeps typing out. But then another message comes through, begging her not to ignore him, and something about the desperation in the rapid notifications makes her break.

“Excuse me,” the girl says quickly, pushing her chair back as she gets up, ready to head towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

Somehow, she knew the quiet won’t last forever, but she kept hoping that Lando was happy, even without her. She hated him for a few hours after he broke up with her, but all the hatred faded away the next morning, when she woke up in an empty bed, trying her best to understand his decision.

She did, eventually. And she accepted it. More than that, she respected it, because she knew that Lando would do the same for her.

Rage.

She put in so much work, and now it’s all for nothing.

She exhales heavily, gripping the edge of the sink before finally, finally unlocking her phone, not so surprised to see more texts flooding the screen.

11:12 PM: I just wanna talk, I swear.

11:12 PM: Can I call you?

11:12 PM: Just once, please.

11:13 PM: I miss your voice.

Her heart breaks a little, but before she can overthink it, she presses that call button herself, and Lando picks up on the first ring. There’s silence at first. Nothing but his uneven breathing and the faint hum of the muted background noise.

Then, she hears his voice, rough and slightly slurred, “You called.”

She closes her eyes, trying her best to control her trembling hands. “Only to tell you to stop texting me, Lando. I am busy.”

A pause. Then a slow, shaky inhale, followed by Lando’s curiosity, “It’s almost midnight on a Saturday night, how busy are—” he stops himself as if realizing something obvious, his next words dripping in disappointment, “Oh, you’re busy,” he continues, but this time his voice changes to nonchalance. “What am I interrupting?”

She presses her lips in a thin line, bringing her fingers to her temple. “None of—”

“Are you with someone?”

Her throat tightens. “None of your business,” she finally manages to say.

His heavy breath crackles through the speaker. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She doesn’t confirm it. Doesn’t deny it. Just exhales slowly, wishing she would disintegrate into thin air before the conversation gets to an end.

To break her silence, Lando makes a noise, something caught between a bitter laugh and a sigh. “How boring is he? Be honest.”

The girl blinks, letting out a dry laugh. “Excuse me?”

“The guy you’re with,” says Lando, “How boring is he? Does he talk about taxes and golf? I bet he fucking sucks at golf.”

“Lando, how drunk—”

“Does he make you laugh?” his voice drops, softer now, but unsure. “Like I used to? God, I miss your laugh.”

She grips the sink tighter, warning him, “Stop that.”

Silence.

Then, in true Lando fashion, he blurts out something completely ridiculous, “And I miss you.”

Her stomach flips. Painfully.

He shouldn’t have this right. He broke up with her. He was the one who argued in detail why they should break up and stay that way. Him. But hearing his voice again, after all this time, she realizes how easy it is to fall back into it. Into everything they had.

“I do,” Lando insists, “I really fucking miss you, baby. Do you miss me?”

The words hit like a sucker punch.

Yes.

She bites her lip, willing herself not to break. “No,” she ends up saying.

“No,” he echoes. And for once, he sounds completely sober.

She swallows hard, forcing her voice to stay steady as she repeats, “I am busy. Goodbye, Lando.”

And before he can say anything else, before she lets herself feel too much and tell him the truth, she hangs up. With a heavy heart, she presses the phone against her chest, eyes shut, trying to breathe through the emotions crashing over her.

Breaking up with someone when you still love them is like throwing yourself into a bottomless pit. You don’t know when or if the fall will ever end, you have no idea whether or not you’ll be alone on the other side if it does end, and you certainly don’t know if you’ll make it there alive. They had their problems, of course. Everybody does. But for the first time in their relationship, Lando’s goals didn’t include her, and she had to make peace with it.

Inhaling deeply, she looks back at her reflection then she steels herself, smoothing her dress, and wiping at the corners of her eyes.

THE SECOND SHE hangs up, her words brand themselves into his brain, and for a while, he’s terrified that he’ll go mad, because they won’t stop replaying in his head like a broken record.

Goodbye, Lando. Goodbye, Lando. Goodbye, Lando.

Goodbye.

The finality of it slams into him, sucking the air from his lungs, and all the light from his eyes.

He can’t do anything but stand there, phone still pressed to his ear, as if maybe she’ll change her mind and call back. As if this is just a silly test, some cruel joke played by the universe to see how much more he can take before he completely breaks.

To his horror, the line stays dead, and the realization settles in too quickly for him to process, a dull ache spreading through his chest like poison ivy.

She didn’t even hesitate, didn’t soften, didn’t give him anything to hold onto. And maybe it’s better this way, but how easy is it to close the door on someone like that?

For the past two months, he told himself that if he ever needed her — really needed her — she’d be there for him. Because he knows her, and he knows that no matter how much time passed, no matter how many miles stretched between them, she’d still be his person.

But now, the truth is staring Lando in the face. And it looks like him. She’s gone for good, and he has no one to blame but himself.

His jaw clenches, his hold tightening around the phone so hard he might break it. The room feels too big, too empty, too goddamn quiet to the point it gets too much. With an angry exhale, Lando hurls his phone across the room, watching it smashing against the wall before clattering to the floor, the sound slicing through his ears like a gunshot.

With a deep sigh, he drags his hands down his face, fingers digging into his skin as if he can claw the frustration out of his body.

What did you expect? he asks himself. Then, he laughs. A dry laugh, deprived of real amusement.

At that time, space was what he needed, but she was never something Lando needed to escape. She was his anchor. His safe place. And now, she’s out with some other guy, probably smiling in that adorable way she does when she’s trying to be polite but isn’t actually interested.

Or maybe she is interested. Maybe she is moving on.

The thought nearly guts him.

Pushed by fear from behind, Lando forces himself to move, pacing the the living room while he runs a hand through his hair, irritation simmering beneath his skin like an annoying itch he can’t scratch. His heart is racing, thoughts spiraling faster than he can control. The only time he felt like this before was when his car slipped from his grasp back in 2021 at Spa. He knew he had to brace for impact, and knew his time was limited to do so. The difference now is that he can’t even brace himself, because the impact already took him by surprise.

This can’t be it.

After a moment, he crosses the room and picks up his phone. It has a little crack across the screen, but it’s still functional and, in his foolishness, he takes it as a sign to start typing again.

11:59 PM: Fuck your goodbye. You’re really just going to pretend like I don’t exist?

11:59 PM: After everything?

12:01 AM: Such a fucking liar.

12:01 AM: You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything. That you don’t miss me at all.

12:04 AM: I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you, alright? But I swear to god, I never stopped caring about you.

12:04 AM: Not for a second.

12:07 AM: It’s so stupid, but tell me to move on, and I will.

12:08 AM: Tell me you don’t love me anymore, and I’ll leave you alone.

12:48 AM: Please, don’t leave me like this…

12:48 AM: We can find a way, I know we can.

12:53 AM: No one will ever know you like I do, you know that, right?

12:53 AM: He doesn’t know how you hum when you’re nervous or how you always steal the blanket in your sleep, does he?

01:23 AM: Got it.

01:23 AM: If you ever meant what we promised, just know that this is my final call.

The moment he sends the last text, Lando knows he’s got only one chance to make it right. And maybe he took it too far this time, but he’s also at peace, knowing he did everything he could to catch her attention.

Their worst fight ever, before breaking up, nearly ended them right there and then. They were on the verge of walking away, but when all the anger settled and the silence stretched between them, they both realized neither wanted to lose the other. So, they needed a way to say it. A final chance to make things right.

A final call.

A desperate ‘I need you’. No games, no pretending. If one of them said it, the other showed up, no questions asked.

But the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into his darkest hour.

HER KNUCKLES ALMOST leave marks against Lando’s door from how aggressively she’s knocking. She is relentless, angry, and insistent, like she wants to break through it at all costs.

Behind the door, Lando frowns, pushing himself off the couch where he’d been slumped, after the realization hit him. But when he swings it open, his heart nearly flatlines.

She’s standing there, chest heaving and eyes wild with fury, with her tears still fresh on her face. Before he can say a word, she pushes him hard, forcing him a step back as she storms inside. The door slams shut behind her, the sound ringing through the silence of his empty apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Lando?” her voice cracks, her chin trembling under the weight of her furious words. “Are you actually serious?”

Lando barely has time to react before she shoves him again, her palms pressing into his chest with all the force her adrenaline generates.

He stumbles back, blinking at her in shock.

“You’re such a coward!” she yells, “This is so unfair, you know?” her voice wavers, but her anger doesn’t falter. “You have no right to do this to me. None.”

Lando swallows hard, his mind scrambling to catch up. But too much is happening too quickly, and he doesn’t get the chance, before she interrupts him right when he’s about to speak.

“No. You’ve said enough, now I’m talking,” her breath is ragged while pointing a finger at her chest, her whole body shaking with rage as she glares up at him. “You don’t get to pull me in just to push me away. Again and again. You don’t get to decide when you love me and when you need space. And you sure as hell don’t get to use your last call just to make me drop everything for you. Because of course I will, and you know it!” she says, laughing at herself in disbelief. “That’s so fucking selfish, especially when I know you don’t even mean it, and you’re just too fucking pressed that I’m moving on without you.”

His stomach twists. “I do mean it.”

“Oh, really? Then why do you do this?” she asks, her voice breaking as she shoves him again, weaker this time. “Why? One second, you’re in love with me, and the next, you want to be left alone. And now you’re dragging me back in like I don’t have a choice, like I don’t have a life outside of you.”

Lando flinches, guilt settling deep in his bones. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“You don’t know what you want,” she accuses, her voice trembling in frustration. “Because if you did, you’d know how ridiculous you’re being right now. You can’t do this to people who love you, Lando. You can’t just… fuck with my peace like this just because you’ve had a rough night. I’ve had plenty of those myself!” she loses it, turning around only to take a break from seeing his face.

Her words hit Lando like a freight train, but she doesn’t even realize what she’s just said. She’s too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, too exhausted from holding herself together. But Lando heard her loud and clear: she still loves him.

He takes a step toward her, thinking that she’s done with pushing, but when she suddenly turns around, she starts hitting his chest again, enough to pour out all the anger, all the irritation, and all the heartbreak she’s been carrying like rocks in her pockets.

Lando just stands there, letting her, because he knows he deserves it.

Finally, she lets out a shaky breath, her hands falling limply against him. Her forehead presses into his chest as the fight drains from her completely, and a sob wracks through her. Instinctively, Lando’s arms move on their own, pulling her into his tight embrace.

He wraps himself around her, his grip firm but careful, like she might slip through his fingers if he’s not careful. Her tears soak into his shirt, and for the first time in months, the floor stopped moving under his feet, and Lando can breathe again.

They stay like that for a long time. No more words. No more yelling. Just the sound of their breathing, and their hearts beating in sync. Lando’s hand is gently moving up and down her back, and she hates how safe she feels with his scent enveloping her from every direction.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, she sniffles and pulls away just enough to wipe her cheeks.

Her fingers brush lightly against his damp shirt, letting out out a humorless laugh. “I probably ruined your stupid shirt. There’s make-up all over. Sorry.”

Lando shakes his head, his hands still resting on her waist. “That’s okay.”

She scoffs, stepping back to free herself from his embrace. Next time she looks up at him, her eyes are still glassy, but there’s something softer in them now. Then, quietly, she says, “He was boring, by the way.”

She walks past him without another word, heading straight for the couch, just like she did a thousand times before.

Lando turns to follow her, his mind slowly starting to catch up.

She’s here.

She came.

He hesitates for a moment before he enters her personal space again, watching as she sinks into the couch, exhaling silently as if she’s trying to steady herself. She rubs the mascara smudges beneath her eyes, and the sight twists something deep in his chest, realizing that he did this to her. Again. And he hates it. Hates knowing that he’s the reason she looks so lost, with puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Hates that she showed up at his door furious, but now she just looks tired. Most likely of him. Of their situation. Of running in circles that he’s designing with the sole purpose of torturing her.

Still, as Lando lowers himself onto the couch beside her, a strange sense of normalcy settles over him. They’ve sat like this countless times before, curled up together watching movies, falling asleep tangled in each other, making love, and sharing lazy conversations over takeout. He can still picture her lying here in one of his hoodies, laughing at some stupid joke he made, eyes bright and full of adoration. But tonight, the space between them is foreign, like a chasm neither of them knows how to cross.

He exhales, raking a hand through his curls. At least, her words sobered him up, his thoughts clearer than they’ve been in months.

“I met someone tonight,” Lando’s voice cuts through the silence.

Her heart drops in her stomach, but she turns her head to look at him. Her expression is unreadable, however, Lando can see the way her fingers tighten on her thighs, like she’s bracing herself.

He swallows. “If you need a reason why, this is it. Max introduced me to her,” his tone is quieter now, a bit uncertain. “I think he was trying to… I don’t know. Set me up, maybe.”

She nods once, a short, clipped motion. “And?”

“I tried,” he admits. “I really did. She was nice. We had a few drinks together.” Lando huffs out something that’s almost a laugh but lacks any real amusement. “I even thought that maybe it could work out. I hoped it would work out.”

She doesn’t say anything, but looks at him with empty eyes and dry lips.

Lando sighs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “But then she tried to hold my hand and…”

A beat of silence.

Another deep sigh.

He lifts his head just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye before continuing, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend,” he adds, voice faint, like the confession is physically weighing on him. “It felt so wrong.”

She turns her face away, staring at the opposite wall, her jaw clenched. She understands him, of course she does. Because that’s exactly what she was doing before her phone was flooded with his texts — pretending. Faking it. Settling for something that, deep down, was so utterly wrong.

Lando shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

He watches her profile, trying his best to understand what’s going on inside her head, what she’s thinking, and if she’s warring with her own heart, just like he did for the past two months.

Finally, Lando leans back against the couch. His fingers drum restlessly against his knee when he starts speaking again, “Do you like him?”

She stiffens. “What?”

“The guy you were with tonight,” he says, studying her closely. “Do you like him?”

The girl rolls her eyes, pressing her lips together. “You are so incredibly stupid, Lando.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “I still want to hear you saying it.”

She hesitates, “I don’t know. He’s nice.”

It’s Lando’s turn to roll his eyes now, “Nice.”

She gives him a sharp look. “Yeah, nice. Like the girl you met? What is wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he mutters. But when she keeps staring, he forces himself to continue, picking at the lint on his pants, only to avoid her piercing eyes. “It’s just… you never went for nice.”

Her expression flickers between annoyance and something else he can’t quite name.

“You don’t know me like that anymore,” she warns him.

Lando lets out a quiet breath, “People don’t change that easily,” he says it like he talks from experience. “I’d still be able to recognize you blindfolded.”

His words almost knock the wind out of her. She tilts her chin up, trying to hold onto her anger, but it’s slipping through her fingers like sand. Especially when he speaks so soflty, no bitter trace behind his voice. It’s just a fact.

“I don’t know about that,” she whispers.

“I do,” he says, getting closer to her side of the couch.

She takes a breath in, exhaling slowly. “You walked away, Lando. It was your choice. What changed?”

Instead of looking back at her, Lando’s picking now at the skin of his thumb with his nail, until he feels the blood under his fingertip. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“For who exactly?”

His chest tightens. “It was for you too,” he says in a defensive tone. “I couldn’t be what you needed. It took me years to finally be competitive, and I barely had time to breathe outside work, let alone be someone you could rely on. There was so much noise around me, I just couldn’t put you in second.”

She shakes her head, her expression caught between irritation and heartbreak. “You didn’t have to change anything for my comfort. I know what racing means to you. Knowing you were there was enough for me.”

He swallows, guilt pressing heavy against his ribs. “Not enough. I didn’t want to drag you down.”

Her lips part, a flash of disbelief crossing her face. “Do you even hear yourself?” she gestures wildly, “You were never dragging me down. I was so happy for you, Lando. Still am,” she blinks rapidly, trying to push down the emotion rising in her throat. “But you decided I was an inconvenience.”

Lando closes his eyes briefly, his fingers curling into fists. He knows she’s right. He knows. But back then, he had convinced himself that letting her go was the only way to keep her from ending up hating him. Now, she’s standing next to him, looking at him like she doesn’t know whether she wants to scream or sob.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all he can say. And then, “I just... missed you.”

Out of instinct, she makes herself smaller on the couch, raising her knees to her chest.

“I tried to act like I didn’t, but I was miserable,” Lando adds, “Everywhere I went, I was looking for you. Waiting for you.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head again. “Spare me, won’t you?”

“I’m not saying this to change your mind,” he defends himself quickly. “I just need you to know. Because it was eating me alive.”

Her arms loosen around herself, her posture softening just a fraction. “Do you think I wasn’t miserable too?” her voice cracks on the last word. “You said I was pretending you didn’t exist. Do you really think I just walked away and simply forgot about you?”

Lando stares at her, taking in the way her lower lip trembles, the way her eyes are shining with new, unshed tears.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Stupid, stupid,” she repeats.

She’s still mad at him. But she aches to be closer, to touch him, to bury her face in his chest and just breathe him in. Just for a moment. Just long enough to pretend that everything is okay again.

Cautious, Lando lifts a hand like he’s giving her time to pull away. But when she doesn’t, his fingers brush against her hair, gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His touch is light, barely there, but it still gives her chills. Then, without thinking too much of it, she leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

A tear slips down her cheek, and before she can wipe it away, Lando’s thumb does.

“I’m sorry.”

She lets out a quiet sob, and that’s all it takes for Lando to pull her into his arms without hesitation. She melts against him, fists gripping the fabric of his shirt, pressing her face back against his chest as she lets more tears out.

Lando buries his face in her hair, whispering all over again, as if that will make her believe him, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Tears are threatening his eyes too, but he closes them before they can escape.

He feels the warmth of her breath against his collarbone and, once again, he’s terrified. He would rather her push him away, rather her scream at him, tell him she hates him, hurt him back. Because all this silence is unbearable. It swallows him whole, and tells him everything he’s too afraid to admit: that he drained her, emptied her out until there was nothing left to give.

He’s about to apologize again, but then he feels it in the way her fingers, still curled into the fabric of his shirt, twitch slightly, and the weight of her head is pressing deeper into his chest — she fell asleep. As soon as things went quiet, she slipped under, exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with the time of night and everything to do with him.

A lump forms in his throat as he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. He shifts carefully, moving just enough to lean back fully, making sure she’s as comfortable as possible. But unfortunately, sleep doesn’t come easy for him.

HER PALM RESTS against his cheek, the heat of his skin seeping into hers. Every exhale of hers tickles his jaw, and it feels like muscle memory, the way her body molds into his, the way he instinctively holds onto her even in sleep.

Lando doesn’t stir. He never does. He’s always been the type to sleep through anything — alarms, thunderstorms, and morning light flooding the room. Even now, he’s dead to the world, his lips slightly parted, his arm wrapped lazily around her waist.

But his phone vibrates on the coffee table, and that’s what wakes her up, the sound cutting through the stillness. She barely registers it at first, burying her face against his chest, but when it buzzes again and again, she groans softly.

Disoriented, her breath deepens as she takes in her surroundings: the familiar scent, the heavy weight of Lando’s arm, the warmth of his body against hers. And then, all of it crashes down on her. Last night. Every whispered apology, every push, every tear, every way she let herself slip back into him like she never left.

Suddenly, a wave of panic wakes her up for good and, covering her mouth with a trembling hand, she tries to muffle the sob that threatens to escape. She can’t cry again; she’s way too exhausted for that. But her body betrays her, stiffening next to him as his weight becomes suffocating.

Luckily, the continuous buzzing takes her out of it and, reluctantly, she finally reaches for Lando’s phone. The screen lights up with a crack across it, and lots of notifications. It’s 1:04 PM, and a text from an unsaved number catches her attention first:

Hey, Lando ;) This is Eva. Max gave me your number, said you weren’t feeling well last night. I’d like to see you again tonight if...

The rest of the message is cut off by the lock screen, so she lets the phone drop back against the glass of the table, swallowing past the tightness in her throat and slowly turns onto her side, facing him. Lando looks so peaceful like this. His curls are messy, his face slack with sleep, no frown decorating the smooth skin of his forehead. His eyebrows are a little fuzzy, so she gently styles them back into shape with her thumb.

She missed their lazy mornings more than anything. The way the concept of time never seemed to exist when they were wrapped up in each other, away from anything that could potentially come in between them.

Her hand is still weak as she presses her palm to Lando’s chest. His heartbeat thrums beneath her fingertips, steady, warm, alive. That’s why she came here in the first place: for him. And in the clear daylight, she realizes that the familiarity between them can’t be reversed. Last night was a lot, but she can’t let herself fall into it again, no matter how badly her body wants to stay curled into him.

She brings the same palm to her chest then, trying to put some distance, but Lando stirs instinctively. His arm pulls at her waist, his fingers twitching against the fabric of her dress, unwilling to let her go even in the hazy blur of waking up.

His body recognizes hers before his mind does; the warmth, the normalcy of having her there. Then, reality creeps in, dragging him back into consciousness. And with it comes the dull ache pressing against the inside of his skull, the dryness in his throat, the remnants of last night staining his entire body with exhaustion, guilt, and shame.

“I feel like shit,” he speaks against her shoulder, voice raspy from sleep. His head is pounding, his stomach unsettled, but her scent is the only thing guiding him to something steady. He breathes it in, eyes still closed, and continues, “I need a greasy burger for breakfast.”

“It’s past one,” she says quietly.

Lando groans, rolling onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes. He can feel her presence, but even though her body is so close to his, he starts to feel the tension. The distance. He realizes it the second she moves again, getting in a sitting position, ready to leave the bed. Leave him.

Lando’s eyes snap open, desperate to catch a glimpse of her, even as the sunlight nearly blinds him. Her hair is messy, hands resting against her lap. Her dress is all wrinckled and drapes over her frame, making her look small in a way that destroys him. Like she doesn’t belong to this moment, like she’s already halfway out the door.

“I should go,” she says the words that he was so afraid of, and it feels like a knife to his ribs.

“You should stay,” he insists. “We can get something to eat, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

She presses a palm against her forehead, realizing the gravity of the situation. Giving him false hope won’t help anyone.

“No, thank you. Falling asleep was already bad enough.”

Lando clears his throat before speaking again, slightly unsure, “Was it, though?” he asks and, in return, she shoots him a warning look. “I know, I’m sorry.”

However, she’s no longer angry with him. She exhausted the last of her strength last night, and now all that’s left is the bitter taste of what could have been.

“Is that the only thing you’ll say now?”

He licks his lips, throat still dry as if he drank sand. “Yes. Until you forgive me.”

It was meant to be lighthearted, a little joke, and a weak attempt at softening the weight pressing down on both of them. Based on past experiences, she always forgave him. So why should now be any different, right? But when she doesn’t react, when the silence only thickens, he realizes how fucking stupid that was.

She blinks once, twice. Her gaze flickers away, “Your final call,” she says quietly, “Did you do it because of that girl? You got scared because you liked her more than you thought you could?”

Lando’s heart stalls for a second, caught off guard by her inquire. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know what the hell I was doing. I mean, I was scared. But not of her,” he stops, thinking of it. The frown comes back, and it looks like the thought gives him a headache. “I was scared of falling back into something I couldn’t fix. Still am. You and me… we’re not easy, you know?” he lets out a small, bitter laugh, almost self-deprecating. “We’ve never been easy. And I’m just so tired of fucking things up.”

She doesn’t think much about her actions lately. She wasn’t thinking last night when she left her date in a rush, and she certainly isn’t thinking now, as she turns her body to face him.

“I don’t understand you anymore, Lando. The only thing I do understand is that you pushed me away just so you wouldn’t have to deal with me. Because you couldn’t handle me, is that right?”

Lando winces. The weight of her words hit him harder than any punch. “No, it’s not right. I just didn’t know how to fix… me,” he says it for the first time out loud, his voice breaking on the last part; surprisingly, it’s not making him as uncomfortable as he thought it would. “I didn’t want to lose you. Not like that.”

She scoffs, “And now what? You think one drunken night is enough to put you on the right track? You think you know what you want just because you’re afraid of losing something that’s no longer yours anyway?” the girl asks, watching as his facial expression changing in pain. “I’m sorry, Lando. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I need answers.”

His voice is barely a whisper as he replies, “The only answer I can give you is that I didn’t know how to be what you needed at the time. Is that so hard to believe?”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them away. “It is,” she agrees, “Because you never asked me what I needed. Not once. You just did what was best for you. And now…,” her voice trails off before moving her eyes on a random point on the floor, “You’re not showing me anything. You can say that all you want, but how do I know you won’t push me away again? I need to know you’re here, that you’re really here.”

Lando reaches for her then, almost instinctively, his hands determined as he cups her face. “I am here,” he whispers, leaning in, his breath shaky against her skin. “You’re just too stubborn to let me back in. And I get why,” he rushes to say as he feels her tensing under his touch. “But, please. Let me fix us. Please.”

Neither of them speak for a while after that. She’s so close to him now, she can hear both of their heartbeats, the weight of every single second hanging between them like lead from a strand of hair.

She is hesitant, but she pulls him in first, her lips barely brushing over his. Even though it’s a featherlight touch, her close proximity ignites something highly flammable in Lando. He stills, his breath caught in his throat, his hands curling into fists as if holding himself back, too afraid to take it any further too fast.

Just as he leans in, just as he starts to close the little gap, slowly, she pulls away. The loss of her, even for a second, makes his patience snap and, without giving her the chance to build another wall between them, he reaches out, fingers threading into her hair, pulling her back to him, this time with purpose.

She doesn’t resist — can’t, really.

His forehead presses against hers and neither of them move, trapped in the space between knowing and doing. His grip tightens against her jaw, thumb stroking over the edge of her cheek, his breath hot against her parted lips. The weight of everything that’s been left unsaid lingers in the air, and it’s suffocating. She exhales shakily, closing her eyes for a moment, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers splayed over his heart, feeling the way it pounds beneath her touch. And then, as if her body betrays every ounce of hesitation in her mind, she fists his shirt and pulls him back against her.

They crash together, and the world tilts within a second.

Their lips meet in a clash of want and desperation that knows no border of sanity. His hands are suddenly everywhere, cradling her face, threading through her hair, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. She presses into him, her nails scraping against the back of his neck, anchoring herself to him like she’s afraid he’ll slip away any minute. Like he’s going to change his mind again, and tell her to leave, because he needs to be alone.

But he won’t. He never will again. The taste of her floods his senses, familiar and intoxicating, making his body buzz with excitement as he deepens the kiss. He breathes her in, trying to make up for every second he’s spent without her.

She wants him, and she’s aware that things could go exponentially wrong after this, but she’s already broke the rules the moment she crossed his threshold last night. She shifts against him, pressing closer, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. He stirs slightly, humming, his arms automatically locking around her, helping her sit on his lap.

Her lips brush against his jaw, trailing down the column of his throat. She’s barely even touching him, but she knows he feels it, because she hears the way his breathing stutters, the slight twitch of his fingers against her hip. She smiles, shifting again, innocent, except not at all, because her thigh suddenly drags over his, pressing just enough to feel the growing heat between them.

Lando lets out a sleepy grunt, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “What the hell are you doing?” his aroused voice is exactly how she remembers, rough and deep, and able to send shivers down her spine.

She hums, pressing another kiss to his collarbone. “Nothing.”

Lando chuckles, his hand sliding to grab her waist, fingers lazy but firm. “No, I think you’re doing something.”

And, whatever she’s doing, she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause to think.

She lets out a dry laugh, edged with sadness and a hint of accusation, “Always making me ache, aren’t you?” she asks, pressing her lips against his ear, while positioning herself above him, helping Lando get rid of his shirt. Soon enough, her fingers are dragging down his stomach, nails grazing lightly at his abs. “It’s like it turns you on to see me in pain, isn’t it?” the girl sighs, brushing her hips against his in a way that makes him curse under his breath.

His fingers dig more into her waist, his patience thinning by the second. “You know that’s not true,” his voice sounds so angelic, that she actually believes him for a second because of it. “I’m sorry you can’t trust me anymore. But there’s nothing I hate more than to see you hurting because of me.”

She nods, giving him the impression that his words have the power to make her weak. In reality, she’s just curious to find out how sorry he really is.

“You’ve said that about a hundred times already,” the girl reminds him, “How bad, though?” she tries to push the limits, mostly to see if there are any, the words slipping from her lips like something delicate and filthy all at once. “Bad enough that you’ll drunk text me again? To see if I come running to you? Again? To say you’re sorry a hundred more times, hoping I’ll let you fuck me in whatever position you want, for as long as you want just because I feel for your sorry ass?”

His nostrils flare as he exhales in disapproval, “Stop that shit.”

“Why?” her voice sounds overly seductive, but somehow, he knows it’s just a trap. “Isn’t sex your answer to everything?”

There you go.

Lando’s jaw tenses as the words continue to leave her mouth, unforgiving, each one winding around his self-control like a vice. His fingers twitch on her waist, the weight of her straddling him making it impossible to think straight. She knows exactly what she’s doing, pushing, teasing and testing the waters of his restraint.

And fuck, it’s working.

Her dress has ridden up her thighs higher, exposing smooth, warm skin that begs to be touched, and his hands find their way there without permission, fingertips pressing into her like he wants to make sure he’s not just dreaming, and she’s actually there.

“Not trying to fuck my way back to you, if that’s what you mean,” Lando disagrees just as he lets his fingers drift higher, watching the way her breath becomes more uneven. “But won’t back down if it works, either. So what does that say about you? That we’re just the same?”

She puffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor behind it. Just a lot of tension, coiled so tight between them that something is bound to snap. Soon.

“We’re so not,” she argues, tilting her head slightly, her lips so close to his that he can taste her breath. “I actually have the balls to stay when things get tough.”

Her unfiltered comment it’s all it takes.

Lando moves in a blur, gripping her hips and flipping them over in one swift motion, pressing her into the couch as a surprised gasp leaves her lips. He hovers over her, his body fitting perfectly between her open thighs, hands braced on either side of her head. The sudden shift has her looking up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, and chest heaving in anticipation.

In this position, Lando looks at her like he’s trying to figure out what to do to her, aware that the changing in dynamics favors him. His hands find the hem of her dress, fingertips teasing the edge as he watches her reaction, giving her a chance to stop him — or to take back her words, whichever comes first. But she does neither. Instead, she lifts her hips, a silent plea, and that’s all the permission that Lando needs.

He peels the fabric up, savoring the way her body is revealed inch by inch. His mouth finds the newly exposed skin along her ribs with the speed of a man starved, trailing open-mouthed kisses up her torso, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. Lando can feel her shiver beneath him, her fingers tangling into his curls, tugging just enough to pull a string of sweet noises out of him.

“I won’t be able to stop if we—” he murmurs against her skin, a last sliver of hesitation buried underneath all the want.

She cuts him off by cupping his jaw, guiding his face up so he has no choice but to look at her. “I won’t ask you to,” she assures him, lifting her hips up once more to meet his, feeling how hard he is against her. The contact is like a drug she’s been deprived of for too long, and now that she has access to him again, her mouth starts moving before wiring to the rational side of her brain, “I wanna do laundry together later.”

Despite what he’s just said, Lando does stop, watching her intently. Because he knows that she means more than just laundry. For starters, it means she’s staying. It means she’s letting him try. It means the weight in his chest that’s been suffocating him for weeks finally lifts, replaced by something warm yet fragile, something he doesn’t dare break this time.

He has to swallow past the ache before pressing himself against her, letting her scent wrap around him like the most familiar kind of comfort.

“Yeah?” he finally whispers, like he’s afraid speaking too loudly might shatter whatever weak truce they’ve found between them.

She nods, a real smile appearing on her face, the first one in months, “Yeah,” she parrots, which urges Lando to plant another kiss on her lips, lazier this time. And she welcomes him.

Gradually, his grip consolidates around her, his teeth catching her bottom lip, and suddenly, the slow morning is anything but. Now he’s wired, wide awake, and so fucking hard.

Her hands work fast, pushing at the waistband of his pants with an urgency that makes Lando’s pulse hammer in his throat. He moves enough to help her, and then the fabric is gone, pooling somewhere on the floor, next to her dress and panties.

The feeling of skin on skin has the power to set him on fire, every inch of him hypersensitive as she drags her fingers down his stomach, nails scratching lightly against the ridges of muscle before wrapping around him for just a second, only to say hi. His breath catches, head tipping forward before he forces himself to look down at her.

“You’re a menace,” Lando points out. His voice is thick with desire as he rolls his hips against her once her hands move around his neck, dragging his length along the soft skin of her inner thigh, brushing lightly where she needs him most. He feels her shiver, her nails digging into his back for a fraction of a second before she exhales a breathy laugh.

“I had to adapt,” she says, her voice saccharine, but teasing, fingers biting into his shoulder blades.

“I can see that,” his tone is rough, but there’s something playful underneath it. He continues to move, this time with more intention, the tip of his cock catching against her slick heat.

She bites her lip, her free hand reaching up to pull him down on her and crash their lips together in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, too desperate to be anything but raw. He groans into her mouth, their breaths blending together, and she takes the moment to wrap her legs around his waist, locking him against her completely, the heat ever-growing.

The easiest thing in the world for Lando is to get lost in her warmth, her scent and the way his skin vibrates with every touch of her delicate palm.

The hardest thing in the world for Lando is to stop when every nerve in his body screams for more, just to make sure she wants this as much as he does, even though it risks snapping her back to reason, forcing her to push him away all over again.

“If you don’t—”

She doesn’t even hesitate. “I do.”

With that, his hand is already in motion, dragging down her stomach, pushing between her thighs. He finds her soaked, warm, and slick against his fingertips, and it makes him want to howl, knowing that he still has the same effect on her; if anything, the time spent apart only made her miss his touch more.

“Shit,” he slurs, pressing two fingers against her clit, moving them in torturous circles. “Missed seeing you this needy in the morning.”

She hums, thighs twitching. “Techincally, it’s not morning anymore.”

Lando shakes his head in disbelief, “That smart mouth,” his fingers slip lower, teasing at her entrance but never pushing in, just pressing there, feeling the way she opens up for him.

For a moment, his fingers stay right there to tease her, barely giving what she wants, what she’s silently begging for with the way her hips roll forward. Agonizingly slow, he pushes in, finding her so ready for him and so fucking tight, that Lando swears he could lose his mind just from feeling her in his hands.

The girl huffs out a breath, her frustration evident as she glares up at him, “Lando.”

“Yes, love?” he uses his fingers to press further just a little more, but never enough, feeling her walls hugging him impatiently.

She bites her lip, a flush creeping down her neck, and he knows she hates the way he’s making her ask for it.

Her voice is sharper next time she speaks, “You win. Now stop being a dick.”

Lando smirks, dipping down to press a kiss to her shoulder, dragging his teeth along her skin before pulling back to look at her. “I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully, fingers curling lightly inside her pussy, enough to make her whimper. “I kinda like seeing you like this.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but it’s ruined by the way she starts panting when he finally, finally, glides his fingers in and out, her body agreeing with everything he has to offer. His thumb presses against her clit, rubbing her wetness against it as he watches her fall apart, her hands clinging onto him for support.

“Fuck,” she cries, head tipping back, and Lando swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Yeah, fuck,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth, and then her jaw. Her back arches instantly, a moan spilling from her lips as her nails dig into his arms, while he’s going faster, agonizingly so, dragging his fingers in and out, feeling how her body fights to keep him in. “This what you needed?”

She quickly turns her head from side to side, fingernails scratching along the skin his shoulders. “More,” she whispers, already out of breath. “Wanna feel you.”

Lando pulls his fingers out, watching the way her slick clings to them in the rich color of the afternoon light. He blows out the breath of air he was holding, trapping her thighs in his grasp as he lines himself up, the tip of his cock dragging through the wetness pooling between her legs.

“Well, if that’s what you want, that’s what you get, baby. Wanna see you drip on it,” he muses, pressing just barely inside before pulling back out, coating himself in her slick. “See how much you missed me.”

She whines, hips jerking up.

The grin on Lando’s face widens. “There you go, you beauty.”

She meets his eyes, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from his kisses. Seeing her like that, squirming under him, throws Lando into a spiral. For now, he has no idea where this moment will take them. All he knows is that he wants to make the most of it, to memorize her body lines and the sound of her moans, because once the haze fades and clarity takes its place, anything is possible.

And that terrifies him.

Sinking into her feels like homecoming, and the sweet stretch is making both of them whine in unison, cling onto each other. He swears under his breath as her walls constrict around his length, her mouth falling open in a breathy gasp.

“Holy shit.”

She’s so full of him, just like she wanted, the feeling even better than she remembers.

Lando presses a kiss to her jaw, his hands holding her waist tight enough to leave faint marks behind. “Not letting you go ever again,” he says with his lips glued to her skin like he’s in a trance, voice strained as he fights to keep control of his own body.

She nods, barely able to realize what’s she agreeing on, mind buzzing with thoughts of him, him, only him. “Promise?”

Lando sighs, pulling out slowly, almost all the way before sinking back in. The sound alone — that lazy, wet, messy drag of his cock leaving her, again and again — enough to turn him into a savage man. He watches, entranced, as the evidence of how much she wants him spills down her slit, glistening and painting her inner thighs.

In answer to her plea, Lando links his pinky finger with hers, his hand covering hers entirely. “Promise you, baby. You’re fucking unreal,” he rasps.

Waiting for her was pure torture, but the thought that this can be over before it even properly begins, forces him to still inside her then pull out entirely, his cock, flushed and soaked, resting against her thigh, leaving more of their mess behind. He grips the base, stroking himself once, careful, watching as her empty cunt clenches in his absence, her body desperate to be filled again.

“I’m so glad I got drunk,” says Lando, tracing his fingertips through the wetness between her legs. He presses a long finger back inside her, for his own pleasure, only to feel how impatient she is.

She cries out, thighs snapping shut around his wrist, back arching off the couch. “Yeah, me too,” she blinks up to him, her sincerity spurring Lando on.

He adds another finger as a reward, fucking into her deeper, his other hand stroking his cock in time with her gasps.

“We were always gonna end up here, weren’t we?” asks Lando, his hand working her faster now, watching as she writhes beneath him.

She lets out a choked moan, but can’t answer, too busy rolling her hips against his movements.

“Me, apologizing,” Lando continues, sounding so out of breath, “While you moan my name. Like always, is that right?”

“Lan,” she warns.

“Juuust like that. Look at you,” he chuckles, watching the way her body responds, getting covered in a sweaty layer of goosebumps, and the way her thighs tremble. “As desperate as ever.”

She whimpers, pushing up onto her elbows, dazed and itching to see what he’s doing to her. And the sight makes her pulse race: Lando between her legs, his fingers moving inside her, fucking her with a contrasting gentle force, while his other hand works over his cock, slick and hard, ready to stretch her all over again.

His eyes flick up to hers, dark and hungry, lips parted as he watches her descending into despair, slowly but surely. He drags his fingers out, just to press them back in, firmly, watching her body tense, making her whine louder.

“That’s it, my sweet girl,” he praises, voice subdued and teasing. “Feel it,” his strokes on himself grow lazier, drawing out the moment. “Feel me.”

She nods frantically, her thighs so close to give up from so much shaking. “Not… enough.”

Lando mewls, biting his lip as he watches her squirm, his patience hanging by a thread. “No?” he asks amused, pulling his fingers out and lining himself up again. “Let’s do something about it then. Show you how sorry I am, hm?”

He pushes back inside without any warning in one fluid motion, and the sensation wrecks both of them at the same time. She’s always so fucking tight, but soaked enough that there’s no resistance, just the messy slide of him stretching her open with every inch.

“Shit,” his voice is barely a sound, more like a guttural groan as he bottoms out, his hands finding their way back home, on her hips.

The heat of her, the way she pulses around him, has his heart racing relentlessly, and their sounds fill the living room every time they move together. Lando grits his teeth, withdrawing just halfway before thrusting back in, harder each time.

She gasps, her body craving him, like she can’t get enough. “More.”

He snarls, pace picking up, his hips snapping against hers, skin meeting skin in a rhythm that’s almost punishing. “More?” Lando asks in amazement, “You fucking take everything I give you, and you still want more?”

She nods, dragging her hands down his back, nails leaving marks that burn, but it only spurs him on, thankful she gives him something he could feel for hours after they’re done.

“Always more,” she whimpers, legs wrapping weakly around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she yammers. “Feels so. Good,” she chokes on the last word, lifting her hips in desperation.

Lando is close to sobbing at this point, slamming into her, his control unraveling by the second. “Good girl. Gonna make you come so fucking hard you’ll feel me every time you blink.”

Her whines break into cries as he fucks her harder, each thrust hitting the exact spot inside her where she needs him most. His hand slips between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing her in messy circles, just to see her fall prey to the pleasure that only he can give her.

“Yes,” she nods, her body keep moving on its own to meet his. “Yes, I’m so close. Don’t stop!”

He is far too hypnotized by the way she loses it under him, demanding more and more with each passing second. Lando’s hands move then to encircle her waist, squeezing gently before sliding higher up her ribs, and finally to her breasts. They don’t rest there for too long, though, as she grabs his wrists and moves them around her neck, pulling his face right above hers. Her legs tighten tighter around him, and her palm cups his ass cheeks, pressing him deeper into her.

“That bad?” he asks her, and all she can do is nod again, speechless. “Come on, then. Wanna feel you drench my—"

Lando can’t even finish his sentence as her moans get louder, a blinding pleasure tearing through her in waves, over and over again, too intense to hold back. She cries out, back arching, body shaking she squirts, soaking both of them.

“Ah, shit. Shit shit shit!” Lando’s voice is wrecked, his hips stuttering as he watches her welcoming the euphoria.

The sight, the feel of her pulsing around him, squeezing him so tight has the power to destroy him. He barely manages a few more thrusts before he breaks, burying himself deep, groaning as he spills inside her, warmth flooding her walls. His body shudders against hers, muscles tensing, pleasure rolling through him in waves just as endless as hers. His hands are holding on to her like she’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. And right now, she is.

For them, the time stops. They just breathe each other in, their bodies locked together, still vibrating. He can feel everything, from the soft rise and fall of her chest to the tiny aftershocks still making her pussy throb around him, pulling him deeper even though he’s already buried to the hilt. It makes Lando gasp softly, dragging his lips lazily over her jaw.

His fingers brush along her side once they manage to catch their breaths. “You okay?” Lando’s voice is low, lightly dipped in concern at her sudden silence.

She nods weakly, eyes snapping open, a satisfied little hum escaping her lips. “Okay,” she breathes out, lovingly tracing her fingers along his spine.

Lando smiles mischievously, “Okay.”

Before she can register what he’s doing, he grabs one of her legs and pulls it up, resting it over his shoulder, changing the angle entirely.

“The fuck?” her inquire is startled, but it quickly turns into something else the moment he starts moving, the new position making everything tighter, deeper. Heaven.

His grin is downright devilish. “Not done,” he informs her matter-of-factlty.

To that, Lando’s hands settle firmly back on her hips, pinning her in place before he draws back and thrusts into her measured at first, the kind of stroke that leaves her breathless.

Somehow, the finish line turns into a brand new start, and all she can do is brace for it.

“Oh, my—Lando!” her stomach twists, fingers grasping at nothing, forced to cling to the cushions because she can’t reach him like this. The position keeps her wide open for him, helpless, unable to do anything but take it.

Lando hums, his grip tightening. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. Spread wider for me,” he instructs. “Can you give me one more?”

She whimpers, barely able to think, let alone answer, as he starts pounding into her, his rhythm relentless. Every thrust knocks the breath from her lungs, her body struggling to keep up with the sheer intensity of it, but somehow excited and so willing to push the limits.

“Please,” it’s both a cry and a plea, but she doesn’t even know what she’s begging for.

“Obsessed with those pretty noises. Just take it, baby,” he breathes, driving into her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

His grip shifts then, spreading her even wider, forcing her open until there’s nowhere for her to run. His pace slows just for a fraction, not out of mercy, but because he wants to feel every inch of her hugging him, wants her to feel how deep he is, how there’s no part of her he isn’t claiming.

And then he sees it.

Right there, in the soft plane of her lower stomach. Every time he pushes in, there’s a faint, tantalizing bulge, proof of just how deep he goes; his brain short-circuits. The sight of it has him helpless, hunger twisting tight in his gut, making his cock twitch inside her.

“Fucking hell,” his voice is nothing but raw, shattered arousal. He can’t help himself, instinctively bringing his wide palm to press down on it, applying the slightest pressure, feeling himself inside her from the outside.

“Fuck’s sake, Lando,” her moans turn high, her body jerking as if there is no such thing as too much pleasure.

“You feel that, baby?” Lando’s eyes are wild, rolling his hips a bit slower now, pushing so far inside her that she swears she can feel him in her throat. “Feel how fucking deep I am?”

She nods, tears beading in the corners of her eyes, her hands clawing harder at the sheets because it’s too much.

His forehead falls forward, resting on hers. “Forgive me.”

A simple — yet not really — plea, wrapped in something devastatingly tender. It makes her stomach flip, makes her heart ache in a way that feels too big for her body. She clenches around him involuntarily, and he groans, his grip on her hips tightening.

Her leg slides down his waist, hands instantly flying around his back, pulling him impossibly closer, her lips brushing against his jaw as she nods. “Please, Lando…”

“I need you,” he says, “Need you by my side when I win. Need you by my side when I fuck up. When I’m flying so high it feels like I’ll never come down.”

The sweat blends with the smell and the desperation behind his confession, and somehow, the moment feels endless, even though both of them know it quickly approaches the end.

“Need you when it gets too loud, when I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just noise. Need you when I wake up, and when I go to sleep. Just… need my pretty girl that knows me better than anyone,” he praises, pressing his palm firmer against her stomach, feeling the way she squeezes him from the inside. “Need to fuck you like this every day, baby. To be the one that drives you mad. Please. Please, forgive me.”

His words send a shockwave through her, a moan ripping from her throat. Lando hisses, thrusting deep again, watching the way his cock bulges against his palm, and the way her body welcomes him with no resistance.

He is right there, balancing on the knife’s edge of pleasure, and it’s almost infuriating. His whole body shakes with the effort of holding back, but he can’t tear his eyes away from where they’re joined. The sight has his stomach tensing, his cock throbbing inside her. The slick glide, the way she clenches around him every time he grinds in deep, and the way her body drags him back in with every pull out it’s fucking unbearable.

“Baby, I can’t—” she drags him deeper into the heat of her release, her weak arms pulling him impossibly closer as if she’ll disintegrate without him.

That does it for Lando, shattering whatever control he has left. His rhythm stutters, his thrusts turning erratic as the pressure in his spine explodes.

“Fuck” he groans as his release bursts inside her, hot and thick, flooding her walls. His hips jerk against her as wave after wave crashes through him, his cock pulsing with every sharp, overwhelming aftershock.

But even as his body shudders with euphoria, even as his breath stutters against her throat, his hips keep moving.

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” he rasps, pressing into her with hard grinds, still spilling inside her, his body demanding more. “Fucking hell, I can’t stop.”

She gasps, over-sensitive but still achingly wet for him, her body responding to every push, every deep roll of his hips.

“I know, I know,” she says, wrapping herself around him.

“Yes? Just a little more,” he begs, “Please, just let me feel you a little longer.”

His movements slow eventually, each thrust turning sluggish, drawn out, until he can’t physically move anymore. The last of his pleasure drains from him, leaving his body heavy, and utterly spent. Finally, he collapses on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, breathing ragged, skin covered in a generous layer of sweat. His natural scent sends her home in an instant, and all she wants right now is for time to freeze in place.

She doesn’t say anything, just exhales softly and presses a kiss to his temple, then another to his cheek, her lips brushing over his damp skin. She moves tenderly, kissing his jaw, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose. He’s still inside her, still holding onto her like she’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

People talk about the quiet before the storm, but the quiet after is much more terrifying. It gives you time to see the destruction it left behind, and there’s nothing you can do but watch. She has always hated feeling powerless, and it’s only when she tilts her head, pressing her lips to his forehead, that she feels it. A warm, wet drop against her collarbone. Then another.

Her fingers still where they were stroking through his curls. “Lando?” she whispers, pulling back just enough to look at him, hoping that her suspicions will not come true. But that’s when she sees the raw emotion in his eyes, the way his brows are furrowed, the silent tears slipping down his cheeks.

He looks almost startled, like he hadn’t even realized he was crying. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his lips parting slightly as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

She cups his face instinctively, her thumb catching a tear before it can fall, just like he did last night. “Lan…” she speaks a bit louder this time, “Look at me.”

He shakes his head in response, his hands gripping her waist like he’s afraid she’ll disappear again, this time for more than two months.

Lando presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes, feeling more tears running down his cheeks, “Tell me it’s not too late for us,” he pleads, pulling back to finally meet her gaze. “Tell me I haven’t fucked this up beyond repair.”

Beneath the surface, the pain still lingers. But much deeper down, their bond is still knotted tightly, and even though the rope is taut, ready to snap at any small gust of wind, the fact that she’s still in his arms is enough for the rope to become the binder that holds them together. She can’t name the feeling without giving him everything all at once. Instead, she just brushes her nose against his.

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

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

Thank you for reading!

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

© trashy track tales, 2025

[tokoyamisstuff]

Hear me out…

Variants finding out that reader who is their S.O in their universe is dating somebody else in this one

All the possible reactions from them ESPECIALLY if the seeing reader again was their main motivation for coming to this dimension in the first place

(Pretty please can you include No goggles Mark and the variant that got blown up with Rex,,,,he had such an evil yet sweet and soft voice it still scratches my head so good)

Warnings: every red flag imagineable, forced relationship, abduction, manipulation, canon-typical violence + death, not proofread

He's calm. Too calm. Because he knows exactly how to resolve this.

You'd surely hate him if he was to kill your mate - which wouldn't be a hindrance, but still bothersome - so instead he resorts to more sophisticated measurements.

Got your partner dangling helplessly in the air while making it crystal clear that if he was to ever approach you again, the consequences would be worse than death.

Of course he'd be there to comfort you immediately after you get broken up with 'out of the blue'. You'll never know.

Surprisingly, I think he'd be the most chill about it. After all, he knows best what it's like to try and fill the void with meaningless partners.

But anyways, it's time you stop this bullshit, because your real soulmate is here now. He wouldn't even feel threatened by this nobody, confident that you'll eventually see just how much better he is in every way.

However, he is not a patient man. If you take too long to accept your fate, he might have to become a little more aggressive in his attempts.

Oh, so you want to make him jealous? Cute. Challenge accepted.

But don't be fooled by his confident facade, on the inside he is seething with rage and heartbreak. There's no way to calm him down, couldn't care less and didn't ask for your opinion, feelings, or whatever excuse you'd come up with to soothe his hurt pride.

He'd keep your 'pathetic attempt at replacing him' around, torturing him for his own amusement, and also as means of punishment because you 'cheated' on him. To 'mark his territory', he will constantly force your partner to watch the things he does to you.

In between his cruel way of venting his anger, he'll have brief moments of weakness, revealing just how desparate he is for your affection.

Won't harm your partner if you comply and come with him. They're insignificant either way.

He's pretty chill about the whole situation, certain that given time you'll surrender to your new circumstances. Treats you strict yet caring - as far as he is able to be - and gives you clear instructions of how to act around him.

Other than that, you'll be granted a rather peaceful life with as much freedom as he is possible to give to make you adapt easier. Asks you to never mention your ex in any way, though. Sore topic.

As far as he's concerned, your life before his arrival never existed.

This whole situation is weirdly amusing to him. He'll have a fit of laughter seeing you with this fucking loser, slapping his ankle and acting all silly, while degrading them and also you for choosing someone like this.

Will challenge your partner to a 'duel to win your favor' just for the fun of it. Might even let them land a hit or two, just to toy with them. We all know how this ends, but hey, it got the point across pretty well.

Afterwards he'll act all cheerful and whimsy, twirling you around and expecting you to be thrilled that he's here and got rid of this 'disgrace' for you.

Would be very underatanding. You are not to blame, after all. It's just that your kind is so weirdly obsessed with the concept of love, that you'd rather stay with the wrong companion than be all alone.

But now he has arrived, and by Viltrumite logic you should practically launch yourself onto the superior choice.

Acts as callous and neutral as always, claiming that this union is strictly strategical, but in reality it's eating him alive that he keeps failing to recreate a bond similar to the one you had with your partner.

At some point he pours out his heart, despite having a hard time to verbalize those feelings he was never taught. It's a beginning, though.

Amused, at least initially. But his mood is pretty erratic in general and can switch drastically.

Depending on your reaction, he might either adapt to the situation pretty easily or do something he regrets later. It's a thin line honestly, and there's no right or wrong action.

Most likely he's a petty bastard and will disregard your partner completely. Flirts with you constantly like a damn bully that tries to steal someone's girl in the most disrespectful way possible. And given his power he just knows neither of you have the guts to resist his antics. If you do play hard to get however, it only spurrs him further!

He can work with whatever you decide on doing.

This is his breaking point.

As soon as the reality of the situation sets in, he'll have a complete mental breakdown. You're finally in reach and yet so far away, with someone better that can provide a normal life for you.

Without any hope to hold onto, he'll start destroying everything in his path in a nihilistic fenzy. Without you, nothing matters anymore - it's better to end it all and take everyone with him.

You'll sacrifice yourself by making the heroic offer to stay at his side if he spares your world - and really, he'd rather have you like this than not at all.

Abducts you right then and there, no questions asked.

This man is so lost in his delusions that he seamlessly continues where he left off with his world's version of you. He refuses to acknowledge that you're a completely different person and gets unstable if you act any different than he expects you to.

The most horrifying thing is that he's a talented manipulator without even trying to be. Gaslights you into obedience by claiming it's the only way to keep you safe, and his gentle way of tending to you in huge contrast to his true nature. Over time he's able to actually make you care for him in a twisted way.

His intentions might be pure, his methods on the other hand are anything but that.

But hey, he never seeked out to be absolved anyways. All he wanted was to have you back.

Be prepared to hear all insuslts in the book being hurled at you.

Kills your partner out of a whim, but regrets his approach later on since he should have made them suffer way more. You can be glad he has a soft spot for you in his heart, otherwise would've died right then and there together.

Better make up to him after your 'mistake' by every means necessary. Get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness - even though you have no idea who he is or what he is talking about.

But hey, luckily he just can't be mad at you for too long.

Bonus: Retro Invincible

"I'm not mad, just disappointed" he states flatly with that smooth, balmy voice of his. He is definetly mad. Run.

Takes his sweet time ending the life of the person that dared defiling you with their unworthy touch, making you watch the entire thing so you'll 'learn your lesson'. And don't you dare to scream or even cry for them, or he'll unleash pain a thousand times worse.

Becomes awfully possessive afterwards. Even while holding you in captivity he'd still find reasons to lash out randomly at people he deems suspicious. You are always under his scrutiny, and the fact that you'll never truly be his is slowly driving him insane.

What a cruel turn of fate for both of you, eh?

[dissociativewriter]

Solutions

Sylus x reader/MC (not specified)

Sylus was confused.

He watched, head tilted in amusement as you vehemently complained about one of your coworkers again. About his idiocy, his laziness, his disrespectfulness, and how uncomfortable he made you feel.

This wasn’t what confused Sylus.

He could understand getting annoyed with your peers (in fact, it seemed to be his default setting). What he didn’t understand was why you had turned down the many solutions he had offered you.

He inhaled sharply, freezing you and your rant in place. He shifted on his feet, crossing his arms as he took in your annoyed expression. “Sweetie,” he said, “if it bothers you this much, why not just take my advice?”

You rolled your eyes. “Sylus, your ‘advice’ is hardly reasonable,” you scoffed.

“I don’t see any issue with it.”

“Do I need to remind you of your ‘solutions?’”

Solution 1

“Kill him. He’s clearly useless, and I’d certainly like to see a kitten unleash her claws,” he smirked.

“Sylus, I am not going to kill a man for being a little annoying.”

“I can do it for you,” he offered.

You shook your head firmly. “No, Sylus.”

Solution 2

“If you don’t want him dead, why not… rough him up a bit? Show him he should leave you alone.” You opened your mouth in immediate protest, but Sylus held a hand up. “Again, since you don’t seem to want to hurt him, I’d be more than happy to do your dirty work. You can tell this coworker of yours that your boyfriend will make his life miserable if he doesn’t leave you be.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Ah, yes. My boyfriend the fruit vendor threatening my colleague. That’s a good idea.” You walked off before Sylus could respond.

Solution 3

“Quit.”

“What?” You looked at him incredulously.

“You don’t need to have that job. So quit.”

“Sylus, I’m not just going to quit because my coworker pissed me off,” you chuckled.

“Why not?” he looked at you seriously.

“Because that’s ridiculous! How would I pay my bills? Pay for food? Or my apartment?”

“Move in with me,” he said simply.

“What? No…”

He shrugged. “There’s plenty of room for you at the base. I’d pay for everything you could need. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.” He walked closer to you then, warm breath fanning over your cheek and sending goosebumps across your skin. “And you wouldn’t have to travel back and forth between Linkon and the N109 Zone. You’d always be here. By my side.” He raised a hand to hold your face.

“Sylus…” you breathed.

“I’m not asking you to decide right this instant,” he said softly, thumb rubbing back and forth on your jaw. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Just… consider it, alright sweetie?”

You stared up at him, lips parted slightly, and only nodded. Seemingly pleased with himself, Sylus smirked before dropping his hand and straightening up.

“Come to think of it, kitten, you still haven’t given me an answer.” He walked closer to you then, picking your hand up and drawing featherlight circles across the top of it.

“Sylus… I don’t know…”

“Do you need some help with your answer? It’s simple.” Piercing red eyes bore into yours. “Yes? No? Maybe so?”

“Maybe… it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to live in the N109 Zone.” You grinned sheepishly.

Sylus smiled, his eyes slightly crinkling in the corners. He gave you a quick peck on the forehead. “I’m glad you’ve come around, sweetie. Though, I’ll admit, I’m a bit worried,” he huffed. “You may take a certain someone for granted if you see him too often.”

“Hmm..” You raised your free hand to tap your chin in faux pondering before breaking into a wide smile. “Nope! I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”

Sylus chuckled, shaking his head. “Why don’t we make a bet?”

“Always bets with you!” You sighed, a pout forming on your face. “How can you be so sure you won’t get sick of me?”

“I could never be sick of you, sweetie.” He spoke each word with a quiet strength, like a reverent promise. “You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

[adragonsfriend]

I think this is time loop movie for our times, actually. Instead of some lame asshole who mainly needs to figure out how to be polite (eg. Groundhog Day, a lovely movie, no shade to it), the protagonist is some person beaten down by having basic needs denied, and through the time loop they get the freedom to get out of the stress state for a while (maybe they were specifically expecting to wake up on the day they weren’t going to be able to make rent/other stressful event). They’re kind of a boring loser at first, but gradually they encounter they regain energy and creativity starts showing through they never knew they had, and they can take lessons, eat what they want, turn the heat up, get their hair done, tell their landlord and boss to fuck off as much as they want (all the stuff Groundhog Day guy could’ve done whenever he wanted if he’d been less of an asshole). Instead of the usual limits like Groundhog Day guy not being able to leave the tiny town, the protagonist has enough time/random malfunctioning ATMs spitting money to buy whatever they want and travel basically anywhere they want in the world. Coincidences line up to let them in to odd places, talk to people that wouldn’t give them the time of day usually. We see them explore and achieve so much without the pressure of necessities. They revel in that for a long time.

The turn back toward the real world is in how the protagonist gets to know people. Their neighbours and community, maybe they call their siblings they haven’t talked to in ages. They get to know what everyone is struggling with and what they’re great at. There’s suddenly time to do all the research people on TikTok are saying you should do about finance or applications or whatever. In fact there’s time to do it for your neighbours too. So Sue who ends up on the hospital everyday loop can know they can challenge the hospital a couple of dumb charges just by calling, and Dion knows about that scholarship he got in one of the loops, and Louisa can find out about she really shouldn’t sign that contract with the bank.

Basically protagonist finally comes out of the time loop with a lot of things still sucking, but in a position to suddenly have a giant leg up in community organising. Even for their own situation, it’s not totally fixed, but they know at least a couple people they can call on to alleviate it, because they’ve actually had the time and space for thought to find those people instead of being trapped in endless stress and necessities. It’s so far from fixing everything.

But the audience sees all this person would be capable of if they just . weren’t . trapped .

Unfortunately I think I would legitimately enjoy being stuck in a time loop unless the events of the day itself were super horrifying or tragic. Once I figured it out I would be so relieved just to not be overwhelmed by time pressures and responsibilities that it would take me 1000 years to get bored

[geeeemmmmmmm]

"Maybe I do know"

Summary:When a little white cat rushes into your apartment, you didn't know what it could bring you

Warnings:Alpine gets her own warning for being a trickster, fluff

A/N:I'm planning to add a couple more parts to this because I love how in so many Bucky fics Alpine plays a big part in them so I thought I should join the trend. Just pretend beefy Bucky has his memories back and is friends with Steve and Sam. As always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

WC:1.3K

It was a typical Sunday for you - you left your front door open, only for a moment as you grabbed your laundry basket. Evidently you forgot to do your laundry last week so it was very safe to say it was a struggle carrying the basket from your room. The moment you were about to reach your door, a white flash appeared in your peripheral vision. Confused by the sight you put the basket down and tried to investigate and soon enough as you went to your couch - you saw a big pair of bright blue eyes peering at you from underneath your couch. "puss, puss come here little kitty" your attempt to coax this little white fur ball out from under your couch was not working but luckily you were met with a mysterious voice coming down the hall "Alpine! Where are you? C'mon girl come here!" After hearing the voice you thought maybe the voice you heard was looking for the cat that sprinted like lightning into your apartment. "Uhm are you by any chance looking for a cat, white fur, blue eyes?" you asked stepping out into the hall to see this mystery person, completely taken aback by the sight of a handsome man wandering in the hall. Definitely something you weren't expecting. "Yeah have you seen her anywhere?" you watched as he nodded observing how his hair framed his face "Oh well she must've ran into my apartment" you told him "I'm so sorry ma'am, I'll go get her right now, may I?" he gestured towards your door as you stood in front of it "Oh of yea yea sure go ahead, she's just set up camp under my couch" you tried to joke as you let the man follow you into your apartment, to your couch. "Yep this is her" he smiled at you before trying to reach under the couch in such a comical way, you had to hold back a laugh as the cat would not relent into his grip. "Here I'll try to help" you said while walking to the back of the couch also trying to get the cat into your grasp - "I'm Y/N by the way" "I'm Bucky, this trickster here is Alpine" he said in a warm tone back to you. You were so grateful that he couldn't see the way you blushed at him talking to you. A jolt of electricity flowed through you as you both fumbled around accidentally touching his hand, you both stayed like that, just for a second. Even if it was a small touch, it felt different? Your pulse slowly went back down to its normal rate as you puffed out an awkward laugh while Bucky stayed silent not knowing if you felt the way he didn't want to pull back from you. "Got ya now little girl" he said in a mischievous tone as he stood up with Alpine sitting in his arms looking quite proud of herself as she kept looking at you. "Thank you for helping me find her, she's always been an escapee but I thought she might stop when we moved but I hope we haven't disturbed you too much" he sheepishly admitted to you "Oh no no, this was nothing don't worry" you replied back in such a sweet tone of voice that it made Bucky's pulse quicken. "Well I better get her back inside before she runs off again" Bucky said as he started to make his way outside into the halls "Cya you two" you smiled sweetly following him out "Maybe I'll see more of two, I can show you around if you're new to the area?" You don't know what came over to you to be so bold but something about Bucky just drew you in. "Yea I'd like that" he said in a shy tone as he gave you a quick flick of his hand trying his hardest not get one more look at you as he walked back down to his apartment.

You huffed a small chuckle watching the pair walk back which reminded you of what you were meant to be doing right now which was your enormous load of laundry. It was a struggle to say the least, having a massive basket down 3 flights of stairs. Of course this would happen and right when the elevator is out of order you thought to yourself as you finally made it to the laundry room which was tucked in near the letterboxes on the ground floor. 30 minutes was how long your machine had left, you figured you might as well go back into your room, hoping you'd see Bucky again as you jogged up the stairs. 

Bucky stirred upon hearing your voice in the distance as you greeted a neighbour of yours. He didn't know what had taken hold of him but he rushed out the door - careful not to let Alpine escape as he kept his foot in the door to push her away as he closed the door. You noticed Bucky emerge from his apartment just before you entered yours "Keeping Alpine inside?" you called out to him watching him let out a small chuckle at your remark "Yep, hopefully she grows out of it" he replied walking over to you, just waiting to your hear your sweet voice in reply "Ya know what they say old habits die hard" you joked while nudged his right shoulder. Friendly touch - something Bucky has had in a long time but he was most thankful you didn't reach for his metal arm, the arm he's ashamed of every time he wakes up, the arm he desperately tried to claw off. "Are you free tomorrow by any chance" he blurted out without thinking "Yea I think I am" you hummed, slightly dumbfounded on how bold he was especially for not even knowing you for 24 hours, but hey who were you to complain especially when it's a very handsome and seemingly kind man doing it. "Great, should I meet you out here at 12PM? I'll make it up to you since me and Alpine disturbed you" he grinned with a boyish expression "Sounds great! You two weren't a disturbance I promise, it was quite entertaining for a Sunday afternoon" you reassured him, noticing how he relaxed into himself just a little bit after hearing you tell him that. It was a comfortable silence after that, quickly interrupted by the sound of clawing coming from the direction of Bucky's apartment "That bloody cat, I wonder why I rescued her everyday" he grumbled looking back at his door "Someones jealous" you teased playfully "Well I better get Alpine but I'll see you tomorrow" "See you tomorrow Bucky" you still spoke in that sweet tone which made his heart melt. His door quickly closed as he ran in so that was your cue to enter your apartment. You felt so giddy about the fact that you had plans with someone after what felt like years of being single again. You ran to fetch your phone from your room with the only purpose to inform your best friend.

Guess who's got a date tomorrow!!

No fucking way omgg tell me everything

I promise tomorrow I will!! too giddy to talk, I have to prepare my outfit!!!

You smiled at your conversation with your bestie as you chucked your phone back on your bed and started to try find some clothes only to find nothing cute to wear

Damn it I have to get my laundry, you suddenly remembered so you sprinted out your door and down to the laundry room, already planning your outfit. 

You sighed as you grabbed everything out of the machine, hoping that Bucky was anticipating tomorrow just as much as you were. He was. Bucky was in a panic rushing around his apartment not knowing what to do with himself, he debated texting Sam and Steve but he didn't want them to annoy him and ruin his mood with their antics  so instead he tried to organise what little furniture he had in his 1 bedroom with no bed, small kitchen and living room apartment while Alpine purred sitting on his bench in the kitchen "Maybe I do know why I rescued you" Bucky whispered as he gave Alpine a scratch on the chin.

A/N:Ugh I love it when fics have Alpine in them so I hope you guys relate! I do want to turn this into some more parts so feel free to tell me if you'd read more of this or not:)

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆Both Calloused Hands｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

☆Jason x reader

☆Cw: body image issues, sex mention, birth control mention, slight possessiveness

You have a handful of the skin of your stomach in your hand, your shirt rolled up to expose your body to the unforgiving visage in the full length mirror. Your frown is tense, a hard crease between your brows as you pinch and rub your skin between your fingers.

Jason is behind you, just barely in view from the side of the mirror. He's doing something on his phone, not paying attention to what you're doing. You're supposed to be getting dressed, but you're clearly sidetracked.

"I think I'm gaining weight." You sound just as uncomfortable as you look.

"So?"

"My pants don't fit the same way they did a couple months ago."

Jason raises an eyebrow, tearing his gaze from his phone to lock eyes with yours through the mirror.

"I can take you shopping tomorrow then."

"No, Jason I don't want you to buy me new pants."

New pants is giving up. It's defeat. It's acceptance of your new body, your new size.

"I think it's cuz of my new birth control."

"I'm still not seeing the problem. You look as good as you always do."

Your frown deepens. You've seen Jason practically worship the ground you work on. You've felt his calloused hands drag along your waist, his lips bite and suck exactly where your hands are placed upon yourself. You know he's attracted to you, but there's this weird separation in your head that just doesn't seem to leave you.

Because how good is good? And what does he mean as you always do? Have you always been this weight, always looked this way and you're just noticing now? The thought makes you a little sick.

"Look..." Jason slides behind you, wrapping his hands around yours. "If it makes you that unhappy then just get off it. I still think you're gorgeous, for what it's worth."

"If I get off the pill then no sex at least until marriage." You love Jason, but you're not gonna end up anyone's baby mama, daddy, or nothing.

"Okay, then let's get married."

"Jason, be serious."

"I am." He shrugs.

Your breath leaves you in a huff of air. You're left staring at him through the reflection, the weight of him behind your back feels too heavy, and unreal, at the same time.

"D-Don't fuck with me, Jason."

He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. "'M not."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah."

You look down to where your hands are interlocked over your stomach, and the back up to your face in the mirror. Heart fluttering excitement gets squashed by a sudden feeling of utter inadequacy. Not enough of what you should be, and too much of what you are.

It's like you're covered in it. This drudge of grotesqueness that no one around you seems to have. It's on the meat of your arms and the fat of your thighs, it pulls to create the lines on your face, and the stretch marks on your chest. You're drowning in the pieces of you that separate you from others. The ugly parts that you know other people have, but you can't seem to find when you look at them.

"We should stay in."

"What?" You choke out.

"We should stay in. I don't wanna share you right now."

"... Share?"

"No. Keep every part of you to myself. No one else should look at you, but me."

Jason's eyes are burning into your reflection. His gaze is heavy, possessive. You don't know how long he's been staring.

"We can reschedule for another time." He placates, running kisses down your shoulder. "Come lay with me."

Your throat feels thick with tears. They came out of nowhere, really.

"Y-Yeah, okay."

"Okay."

Neither of you move for a moment, stuck eye-fucking each other in the mirror. Jason with a heat that makes you want to shy away, yourself with a soft and hesitant reverence. You make quite the sight.

He breaks the tension with another kiss, this one placed on your jaw, and begins to lead you away from the mirror. When your head turns to catch one last appraisal of your body Jason places a hand on your cheek, guiding your eyes back towards himself.

"Eyes on me, pretty."

"Okay."

Reader, having a slight breakdown: I'm gross, worthless, nobody should love me ever.

Jason, completely oblivious: Jesus fucking Christ they're so hot be normal be normal be normal be normal be normal

Posting this but it's almost 2am and it's not proofread, if it's ass uhhhhh that's none of my business. I have longer fics not too far behind this one, trust and believe

｡⁠☆Requests Open

[misshuntereevee]

The Winner Takes it All, part 2.

( part 1. )

Synopsis: You look like the MC, and you actually remember bits and pieces of the myth (not all.) But MC finally shows up, with no memory, and Sylus can’t help but be drawn in. What will happen?

Notes: Thank you guys so much for the love. Part 3 will be coming probably in a few days as I prepare to start a new series for Raf. However, there has been some interest in a taglist for this series. I won’t be doing this at this time, but I will keep considering. Comments, likes and reblogs are encouraged but not necessary. Enjoy the groveling. (Also don’t forget I’m not beta-read.)

Sylus knows he fucked up. The moment you were gone -- Miss Hunter ceased to exist. Multiple calls from her went unanswered. And he didn’t even wonder once if she was okay. But every moment since you’ve been gone, Sylus has been searching.

If you’re mad at him, that’s one thing. But he has a duty to you to make sure that Ever never lays a hand on you. And no matter how mad you are at him, he refuses to let that promise go. If he has to rebuild the trust… he will. Brick by brick.

But the pit in his stomach doesn’t subside when he sees you. He’s not a jealous man, never felt the need to be. But right now -- he understands he’s the closest he’s ever been to losing you. And he is feeling envy creep up into his veins.

You were flirting with the cashier. Well, he started it but you definitely were returning it. In all honesty… the attention felt nice. It had been a few weeks since you felt like you got this sort of attention.

The cashier is already blushing. “You know, I get off around -,”

“We don’t care,” a smooth voice comes from behind you, and a shiver runs down your spine. Sylus. You hate that it elicits such a reaction, but there would never be a day it didn’t. Your memories of your past life were hazy at best, but his voice — you don’t remember a single time it didn’t made you fall head over heels.

A hand comes to rest on your shoulder but with a loud huff, you yank it off spinning around. You’re angry. Passionately so. “Don’t you dare,” you hiss at him. “You don’t have a right—,”

“Keep the change,” Sylus tells the cashier, ignoring you.

The cashier looks between you both before he lets out an awkward low whistle and backs up. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not risking my life for a date with you.” And with that he leaves the customer service desk, leaving the two of you alone. You swivel around to face him, and you notice a swirl of emotions around his face.

Relief. Anger. Annoyance. Relief again. Adoration. And then finally in lands on one thing you didn’t expect —

“You were actually flirting with him,” he points out, his eyes looking… hurt somewhere underneath an accusatory jealousy. You don’t say anything. In fact, you grab the book you purchased and start walking out the door. He follows you, and you try to put your earbuds in. He takes them immediately with his Evol. You scowl at him and yank him into a nearby alleyway.

“What the hell are you doing?” You spit at him. “Leave me alone. If I wanted to talk to you, I’d answer my phone.”

A flicker of hurt crosses his face for a moment. But finally, he forces a calm look on his face. “My little bird, I know I forgot our —,”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face when you laugh loudly and bitterly. “Are you kidding me? You think that’s all I’m upset about?” He stays quiet, seeming to realize you aren’t done with him yet. In all honesty, he needs to hear what you say. Sylus knows he can’t fix anything until he knows how you’re feeling.

You frown at him before continuing: “She comes along and just because she looks like me she grabs your attention? Oh and that stupid fucking linkage bond thing ---,” How could you forget? You could resonate with him, yes, but there has never been any physical bondage connecting the two of you. That was new -- something only Miss Hunter had. And you had wondered —

Was it enough that you should doubt? Your fears were confirmed when he forgot your anniversary to take her home after a mission.

“And Ever wants you both,” he adds, his eyes narrowing. “Which was enough for me to wonder if you left… or disappeared.”

“Ha, no, more like your ego couldn’t handle that I left!” You say, poking his chest. He scowls at you. “And you know what -- I fucking remember. Does she?! I might not remember everything, but I remember! She can’t… she’ll never —”

You stop, your voice about to shake with tears. A lump forms in your throat, your chest tightening. You remember when he forced the blade through his heart. You remember slaying the dragon. And you remember the pain your past self carried -- everywhere. “Does she remember losing you like I do? However hazy it may be, she doesn’t carry that pain.”

And that’s when you turn away from him. A hand comes up, pushing tears away. “Oh, my little bird,” he murmurs behind you, his voice sounding raw. He can’t stand the fact you’re crying… over him. Self-loathing was the only thing swirling in Sylus’ red eyes right now. “I’m sorry.”

“No. I don’t forgive you. I’m not willing to fight with another version of myself for you. Go away,” you spit. You need time. And you start to walk away from him. However -- You’re only about two feet away from him when you’re yanked backwards. Something is tethering around your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stop it,” you hiss at Sylus. “Let me go!” But as you turn around completely, you can tell — this is not his Evol. You’d be able to resonate with him and make him stop. This isn’t that.

Sylus stares at it for a moment before there’s a small smirk on his face. “Well,” he says. “It looks like you’ll have to hear me out now.” A linkage.

***

“No, don’t you even start,” you say to him, staring at the link. “I’m sure if I just resonated with you — when you finally resonated with her, it went away right?”

You try to resonate with him but —

“You’re blocking it!” You accuse him. “You’re trying not to resonate with me.”

“What can I say? If my little bird flies away before I can tell her how sorry I am, that just won’t do,” he nearly purrs.

“Oh, I hate you. Stop this!”

“You have every right to be angry,” Sylus starts. Granted, you weren’t expecting that, so your response doesn’t come quickly. He keeps talking. “I admit… seeing her threw me off. But anything drawing me to her was pure curiosity, nothing more. Any other pull I felt — it felt empty. Like it belonged to you. Because it does.”

You cross your arms, pretending not to be fazed by his declarations. He leans down, gripping your chin. “You’re right, my Queen. You remember me,” he says. The other hand — the hand linked to yours by the bond — laces fingers with yours. You don’t lace them back right away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “If you wish for me to never see her again, I’ll let someone else investigate her appearance for me. I have to know — for both our sakes why she’s here. Just please -- I can’t lose you. You’re right.”

“Sylus —,”

“Please. You don’t understand. These last two weeks have been — eye opening.” He lets out a deep, ragged breath. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I mean it.”

A deep breath. Your thoughts are so consumed with confusion. Because you’re also curious to why there seems to be two of you - albeit two crazily different lives. You mean, she had her life and you certainly had yours.

But you also missed him. Your dragon. And the look on his face. You found it remarkable how this crime boss of a man could look like a kicked puppy, begging for forgiveness. And you absolutely hate how much you’re softening. How much you’re still attracted and pulled to him.

“Mhm. Fine. Come back tomorrow and apologize again just as passionately… and I’ll think about it,” you finally say.

His mouth opens and closes. “My little bird — okay. If that’s what you want.” And he takes your hand, ready to resonate and undo the linkage so he can leave you for the night. Sylus doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to give you a single chance to overthink it and -- not forgive him. But he also knows -- if he pushes this, he could lose you forever.

The glow of resonating begins — but nothing happens. Your heart drops. It’s not working. So… it wasn’t Sylus that was holding it together. A brief moment of confusion flits across his face.

He remembers what the scientists had told him when he failed to resonate with the hunter. That they wouldn’t be able to resonate because she was disgusted and angry with him. And in striking clarity -- he knows for a fact that it’s not him holding them back from resonating like he previously thought. It’s you.

“What’s happening?” You says, seeming a little panicked as the bond only tightens the more you try to pull away. In fact, the link tightens so much that you stumble forward into his arms. The more you try to get away from him, the closer you get.

“Hm.” Sylus says, staring at it. He’s currently trying to make sure he isn’t smiling -- this might be a small win, and he knows he has more opportunities to remedy your relationship. “I have a theory.”

“Okay -- so spill,” you say, your eyes widening at him. “I have work tomorrow, and I can’t bring you with me! You’re a crime boss!”

“We’re linked because you’re mad at me,” he finally says. “Or disgusted. Or --- you hate me.” He almost can’t get the words out. Because you can’t. You can’t hate him. There is so much he never got to do with you. You blink at him several times before it clicks -- you’re both bonded until he can fix what he broke.

[greenevergreens]

I also want to add that a lot of the complaints about trans people also have and are said about lgb folk.

Lots of people today think being lgb is a mental illness, or that it's not real and just people wanting to be special and get attention. That they're choosing to be lgb. That they're predators and just want to abuse or even rape kids.

We have VERY similar struggles, and it boggles my mind that people who know and are treated extremely similar to us, want to distance themselves from us.

Like yeah, we aren't exactly the same, we don't have exactly the same struggles, but for fuck's sake we're family, metaphorically of course.

We all have people who want us dead for whom we love or how we exist in the world. We all have to deal with people who think that being LGBT+ or queer or whatever word you want to use, somehow makes us dangerous, perverse, and should therefore be eradicated.

You don't have to like trans people to understand that we are all in the same boat. Hell, you don't even have to think being trans is a real thing to understand that we're on your side, we want exactly what you want, to exist as our true self.

Your ability to exist as a Lesbian, Gay, or Bi person wasn't gained alone. We fought together, alongside each other. Now more than ever we need unity.

This isn't about the identity, this is about our right to exist outside what the republican, MAGA, Christian world thinks we should exist. It's about making sure women can still be masculine if they want to, it's about making sure men can be feminine if they want to. Whether it's about, presentation or gender, they can't stand people being different. They hate it so much they're willing to kill us over it.

So whether you see trans people as their identified gender, or just as men and women playing dress up, that too should be defended.

Not to mention, if you want to bring up the bathroom or sports debate, your problem is NOT with trans women, it's always been about cis men.

“What if a guy dresses up as a lady to sneak into the women's restroom” So your issue is with cis men, not trans women. Also, MEN DON'T NEED TO PLAY DRESS UP TO ASSAULT WOMEN, men have been assaulting women inside and outside of women's restrooms for forever and only extremely rarely do so by dressing up as women first. Also, just in case you forgot, CIS WOMEN CAN ALSO BE SEXUAL PREDATORS!!! I never see that being brought up, because it's not about the safety of the American restroom, it's about, demonizing trans women.

“Okay, but what if a man dresses up as a lady to compete in women's sports!?” When in the history of EVER has a man, who's so sexist he thinks women don't deserve their own space, who would want to degrade (I say degrade because that's how he'd see it), himself by PERMANENTLY changing his body. Making himself grow breasts, putting in all the effort of voice training, wearing dresses, wearing makeup. Men who hate women like that would NEVER want to do anything to associate themselves with womanhood.

Trans women don't just get to say they're women and then jump into women's sports, there's a process and that involves making sure she's been on Estrogen long enough to have muscle mass comparable to cis women.

And that's not even acknowledging the most glaring and obvious thing. SPORTS ARE NEVER, HAVE NEVER BEEN, AND WILL NEVER BE 100% FAIR. Any good athlete is bound to have some sort of natural biological advantage. Micheal helps has an unnaturally large lung capacity, by transphobic logic, he's cheating by the way his body was born. He doesn't deserve any of his metals.

Bodies are different, one person may have a biological advantage in swimming due to a large lung capacity. Other's may have an advantage in running due to the way their body doesn't make as much of a specific chemical that causes muscle fatigue. Others may be inherently better at marksmanship due to some weird thing about their body that gives them unnatural control over how stable their hands are.

That's life, trans women included or not, SPORTS ARE NOT 100% FAIR THEY HAVE NEVER BEEN 100% FAIR AND THEY NEVER WILL BE 100% FAIR!! That's how bodies work, that's how sports work.

so many of those "drop the t" people make no fucking sense.

"lesbians don't want to suck dick!" and nobody is forcing you to. if they are that's just rape and has nothing to do with their transition

"it's weird!" .. okay??? and?? so what.

"well its too complicated and they talk about dysphoria and stuff instead of just your attraction to other people!!!" life isn't that simple. if somebody's identity is complicated, that is fine. and even then transitioning isn't as confusing as you're making it sound.

"it's a mental illness!!!" I heavily doubt you're qualified enough to make that statement. and, regardless, in the hypothetical scenario that it was a mental illness (its literally not), not all mentally illnesses can go away! not all illnesses are developed throughout life; a lot of them you were born with but you didn't know!

to add more onto that, if you replace the word trans with any form of neurodivergency then things show a lot clearer on how stupid it sounds. let me demonstrate

"(having autism) is so weird" "people with (adhd) don't exist, theyre just troubled and (easily distracted) people who want attention" "(npd) is just an excuse for (people) to (act egotistical), its not an actual thing!"

that doesn't make any sense and is really stupid. so do you know what else is stupid?

"being transgender is so weird" "people with gender dysphoria don't exist, theyre just troubled and confused people who want attention" "transgenderism is just an excuse for men to creep on women, it's not an actual thing!"

summary/tldr, transphobes should fuck off.

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ THE AFTERMATH

cw. fratboy isagi, he’s a little stalkerish in this but he just misses his girl, part one where they break up here

ever since your breakup with isagi, he’s been so in his feelings.

the only reason you know this is because of the posts your friends have screenshotted from his profile of sad quotes with drake songs playing in the background. it’s honestly a little cringe. so, if you hadn’t felt so bad already you’d probably be crying with laughter. you’ve also noticed user6372928 in your story highlights a lot recently. wow, must be a real fan.

and isagi knows he’s only making this worse for himself, that he’ll never move on this way. but, he can’t help it, hes a certified lover boy!

meanwhile, you’re not really sure how to feel with all this. you know isagi’s been asking around about you, you know he’s stalking your socials constantly. he just won’t leave you alone. and i guess in some fucked up way it was reassuring, knowing how much isagi actually loved and needed you.

but you ended things because you wanted better for him. so, why was he still holding onto this for dear life? you were hoping he’d realise sooner or later, hoping maybe his friends would help him move on.

but really, all his friends hate this more than when he was actually with you. saying, “bro, please just move on from her. you should be glad anyway, wasn’t she like, mad controlling?”

he frowns, “no..? where did you get that idea?”

shrugging, they reply, “cause you never came to the frat parties anymore. plus, she was pretty nasty. always saying shit to you, i couldn’t deal with that.”

but even if you weren’t his girl anymore, isagi wasn’t about to let his friends talk shit about you.

“shut the fuck up, she wasn’t nasty. she was the best girlfriend i had. you think i’m this upset over a girl who treated me like shit?”

then there’s a pause of silence.

“damn alright. sorry, bro.”

he huffs before getting up from the couch he was just sat on, storming up to his room with a frown on his face and slamming the door shut. he’s definitely letting your break up get to him more than he should.

so, he decides to stalk your instagram again!

and the way his stomach dropped when he saw your instagram story; you at a frat party with your girls, looking like you’re having the best time of you life, the frat isagi and his boys hate. what makes it all worse is the fact you look like you’re actually fine without him, that this breakup has no affect on you. and sure, isagi knows you’re the one who broke up with him, but you weren’t even a little upset? a little bit hurt that your two year relationship was over?

the actual truth was that your friends had practically dragged you there, wanting- no, needing you to stop being so fucking miserable about your now ex boyfriend. yeah, yeah, you love him, but you’re really bringing the energy down here!

of course, isagi never had this though cross his mind and instead jumping to the worst case scenario. it’s like everything finally snapped. there’s no way isagi is gonna take this for a second longer. he can’t.

and that’s how he ended up in this situation, his hands shoved in his pockets whilst walking out of his frat like a man on a mission, ignoring his friends questions and calls.

he’s gonna get you back one way or another.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[delugyu]

maybe this is evil but i’ve been thinking about txt when another member likes their bsf… or gf… i like messy hehe

i like the way u think hehe

(wc: 2k / warnings: soobin x fem!reader, jealousy, a ton of possessiveness and borderline obsession lol, insecurity, oral (f rec.), overstimulation, choking (f rec.), unprotected sex)

it starts off only mildly irritating. soobin doesn’t care all that much when beomgyu leans in to tell you a joke, or when beomgyu’s hand graces the skin of your arm for a second, or even when beomgyu chooses to sit right next to you on the couch. soobin’s secure enough to not think too much about any of that, even if he does find it a little odd.

beomgyu’s actions get a little less forgivable when he starts letting his touch linger on you. there’s no need for him to brush your hair back, and certainly not to let his hand rest on your shoulder longer than a couple seconds. soobin can’t even keep up with the conversation he was having with yeonjun and taehyun anymore, too focused on keeping an eye on you and beomgyu.

beomgyu surely knows you’re soobin’s girlfriend, so soobin can’t imagine why he’s doing any of this. he doesn’t even spare soobin a glance—even worse, neither do you. you’re just laughing and nodding along to whatever he’s saying, and it’s making soobin’s skin crawl.

soobin silently pulls himself out of the conversation he was in, striding towards you and beomgyu on the couch. a part of him feels at ease when you draw your attention away from beomgyu, smiling up at soobin instead. he nods at beomgyu in greeting before sitting beside you in the couch.

“what’s up?” beomgyu asks, and soobin thinks it’s funny how his friend suddenly wants to keep his hands to himself.

“not much. what have you guys been up to?” he thinks he sounds casual enough when he asks.

beomgyu shrugs. “just talking.” soobin looks at you then, to which you just meet his gaze with a smile. he throws an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in a little closer, and he doesn’t miss the way beomgyu’s eyes linger on the movement.

“anyway,” beomgyu says, looking back at you. your head swings to meet his gaze. “you think you’ll be there on friday?” he asks. soobin’s eyebrows furrow, confused.

“what’s happening friday?” soobin asks.

“there’s this band coming to town,” beomgyu explains.

“yeah, we both like their music. you should come too!” you say. either soobin’s delusional, or beomgyu’s face falters a bit when you make that offer. his arm stiffens around you a bit.

“i’ll go,” soobin says. there’s no way he’d say no and give beomgyu that opening to do whatever he wants without soobin knowing. beomgyu gives him a small smile.

“we should all just carpool then,” beomgyu suggests.

“and we can go to that new restaurant after,” you add. soobin has to keep his face from twisting sourly at the way your attention is still on beomgyu.

a gnawing sensation in his gut tells him to grab you by the hand and leave. the longer he sits here, the more insecure and jealous he starts to feel. he wants you to only spend time with him. he wants to be selfish and awful, and the childish urge to hide you away from the world comes over him.

soobin knows you’d never go too far; he trusts your love for him entirely. what he doesn’t trust is other men, not even his friends. you’re a beautiful woman with the kindest personality, so it’s only natural that people flock to you and try to swoon you. the only reason that usually doesn’t irk him is because you always run back into his arms, looking at him like he’s the only man in the world.

he’s itching to turn your face back towards him, to get you to stop talking to beomgyu and focus on your boyfriend instead. he wants to pout at you and make you feel bad, then he wants you to soothe him and rake your hand through his hair and tell him everything’s okay. he just wants you.

“do you wanna go soon? i’m kind of tired,” soobin says. it’s a little bit of a lie, but he’d do anything to be in a room alone with you right now. it feels like he won’t be able to breathe until you make him remember that your eyes are only for him.

you look at him then, and he can tell you find something in his gaze. “yeah, we can go,” you say. he almost sighs in relief. he doesn’t linger longer than he has to, saying a quick bye to beomgyu before heading out with you.

it already feels like the air is lighter when he gets back to his place with you. he sinks into bed with you, but the feeling of insecurity doesn’t quite leave him yet. he gets up on his elbow and turns to you. he runs his hand down your waist, a small frown on his face as he thinks about you and beomgyu earlier. you turn your head to him, and you look a little tired. soobin wonders if he should just let you sleep.

“lay back down,” you say gently, but he doesn’t. he moves until he’s hovering over you instead, slotting himself carefully between your legs.

“do you love me?” soobin asks, holding your face like you’re something fragile. he brushes a thumb against your cheek as his eyes dart between your own. he can’t help but ask, even if he already knows the answer. he’s dying to hear you say it. it’s like his heart won’t beat again until the words leave your mouth.

“i love you so much,” you say. soobin presses a kiss to your lips, rewarding your sweetness. he doesn’t stop there; his lips move to your jaw, then down your neck, letting his lips worship your skin.

his lips linger at your chest, dragging his bottom lip over your heart. “tell me again,” he whispers, looking up at you when his tongue licks a short stripe up your skin.

“i love you,” you whimper, hand knotting in his hair. he pulls away, only long enough to take off your shirt and bra, and takes in the sight of your skin greedily. he could never get tired of this. he trails his mouth further down, nipping and sucking at your flesh until he’s at your hips.

“you’ll never leave me?” he asks. his fingers dip under your pants, ready to pull them off. he’s hungry for all your attention and reassurance. he needs you to shower him in loving words, to let him get his fill of you while you tell him how perfect he is. he needs to know you love him half as much, half as obsessively and consumingly as he loves you.

“never. i want to be with you forever,” you say. that’s a good answer; it makes soobin smile a little. he pulls off your bottoms so that you lay fully naked and ready for him to please. he wants to be with you forever too, and if time could stretch infinitely, he’d choose for each moment to be spent with you.

soobin brings his mouth to your clit, sucking lightly and rolling his tongue over the bud. something about this soothes him—you giving up your sex to him, gifting him a part of you that’s only his. this and your heart, soobin wants them both at his whim. he’s selfish, and there’s always more he craves. his tongue dives into your cunt, desperately pushing into your walls. he wants to hear you cry, to feel you squirm, to find relief in knowing you’re only his.

“soobin,” you moan, a little quiet and breathy. he grinds against the mattress when he hears you, unable to stop himself. he wants to know you’re feeling good, needs the proof that he’s enough for you.

he goes back to your clit, sucking with more vigor now, wanting more and more. you squeal and jolt at the pressure, and it makes soobin feel like he’s worth something. he works harder for it, needing to see you fall apart for him.

“is it perfect? am i good?” he asks breathlessly, rubbing his fingers insistently across your clit, he comes back down to your hole, lapping up the arousal that spills out of it hungrily, moaning at the taste.

“mhm, so good, binnie, i love it, love you”—you’re cut off with a gasp, mouth falling open as you arch your back.

“i love you more than anything,” he says back, pulling his face away so he can watch when you cum. his fingers keep their relentless pace over your cunt, and he soaks up each little twitch of your body. “more than anything,” he repeats, biting into your thigh. he wants to mark you and make it an undeniable fact that you’re his.

“i’m cumming,” you whisper, sounding overwhelmed and fucked out and pretty. soobin could almost cry; he needs this so bad. your legs tremble and your hips stutter, but he keeps his hand steady. he holds you down to make sure you take it all in and absorb every second of the pleasure he wants to give you.

“so good, my perfect girl, my love,” he rambles, eyes zeroed in on your face as you slowly come back down. he smiles softly at you when your eyes start brimming with tears and you start trying to push his hand away. he doesn’t stop, too obsessed with the sight that no one else gets to see.

your cunt is soaked, and his hand dips down towards your entrance to collect your wetness before coming back to your clit. he coos and pouts at you when he sees you shaking, unable to handle so much stimulation. his poor baby. he can’t stop, though; he needs you to know that no other man would be so determined to get you off like this. only soobin can, only soobin deserves to.

“soobin, ‘s too much,” you whine, blinking a tear from your eyes. he shakes his head and kisses your cheek comfortingly.

“no it’s not,” he reassures. he grabs his cock from his pants and jerks it a few times. he taps his tip against your entrance. “won’t you let me fuck you?” he slides his cock between your slick folds, aching to be inside you.

“yes, i’m yours,” you say, bringing his face in for a kiss. he tangles his tongue with yours, moaning into your mouth as he breaches your entrance, sheathing himself inside you like it’s where he belongs. you wrap around him tight, making his head spin, nothing but primal instinct driving his actions. he groans into your mouth as he fucks you, keeping your hips still with his harsh grip.

“i’m yours too,” soobin pants, eyes flitting down your face. your lips are parted, breathing heavily as he continues ramming into you. “i need you to love me. i don’t want to live without your love.”

“i love you,” you say as if it was commanded. he thrusts a little harder, encouraged by your proclamation. you gasp, “i love you! oh, god, soobin..!”

he brings a hand to your throat, needing to see your body in his hands. he doesn’t want anyone else to ever make you feel this good. he presses lightly, just enough to make your eyes roll back, to feel your pussy clench around him. the feeling of you cumming around him is enough to send him over the edge too. he buries his head in your shoulder, sucking at your skin as he releases inside of you.

he stays there, panting against your skin as the two of you recover from your highs. he takes his hand off your throat and brings it to your chest, placing it over your rapidly beating heart. his heart, the heart he’s earned and worked so hard to win over.

“i love you,” he says again.

“i love you too.” your hand lands on top of his, and soobin finally feels okay enough to let his eyes close peacefully. sleep comes to him easier when he feels your love like this.

[lavenderhateswritting]

Bruce Wayne x Male Reader

This is me kinda going further in depth on my ideas about Bruce and divorced BatDad link

There has to be something you're not understanding. At least that's what you have to keep telling yourself there has to be something here that doesn't connect that you aren't picking up on. Bruce has a biological child. A biological child who has been alive for less years than you have been married. Bruce cheated on you. Again.

The air in the cave is acrid. The boy. Damian. His name is Damian. Is speaking to Bruce. He's Talia's son because of course he's fucking Talia's son. God.

The world around you feels like its millions of miles away, muffled and unreachable to you. You should have known. Talia had known him long before you had come into the picture and had always been so much more than you could ever be. It wasn't just Talia though it was so many more than Talia and you kept telling yourself that it wasn't true because you just couldn't believe it.

Now there's no denying it. Now there's a child and now you had to make a choice because if you didn't nothing was going to change.

You must have been standing there for too long looking into space floating into a world where your marriage is happy and your husband loyal because Bruce finally walks up to you. He stands in front of you his cowl is down and his eyes have hardened hemselves. He's prepared for the coversation then great.

"You'll have to start the paperwork to get him in school." You finally say. The first thing you've said for 40 mins and for just a second you can see the confusion hits him for just a moment and then its gone. God forbid he shows you any fucking emotion.

"But you probably shouldn't do that before you acclimate him to average people." Your voice is airy like you're a second away from crying.

"And you're gonna need him to do placement tests - "

"Y/N I know you want to talk about this." He's interupting you.

"Because he's probably ahead of his grade and we - "

"Y/N please can we talk about this."

" We don't want him to take grades he doesn't need to. And I am talking about it. I'm telling you what you need to do for your child. You and Talia's child." Your breathe is starting to come out faster as you speak.

"I mean what else could there be to talk about. You, cheating on me. Again. With another woman. I mean do you even like men Bruce cause god knows you love cheating on me with women." Your hands are shaking now. It feels like you've been drenched in cold water.

"That's not important you have another child you need to take care of and unlik the others you can't fall back on me to handle the the civilian aspect." You finally look back into his eyes there's nothing there. Of course.

"Y/N please calm down we're going to talk about this, we're going to get through this, and handle this Damian situation together." He's grabbed your hands now the gloves of his suit means you can't feel him against your skin only the thick sturdy material.

"No, we aren't, you are." His eyes finally show a flash of fear like he understands what's finally happening.

"Y/N please try and be reasonable. You're in shock and I understand why, but you aren't thinking straight you just need to sleep through the night and then we can talk." His hands are griping you tighter like if he lets you go you'll run for the hills. Maybe he's right to be scared.

"Yeah I'll go to sleep and we'll talk about this later beacuse you need to go on patrol and this mission will always be more important than our fucking relationship. And then when I wake up you'll tell me it'll neve happen again and that you're sorry right. Like how you did with Selina, or Viki, or FUCKING TALIA. And then I'm goint to forgive you again and again and again because I love you, but you don't love me, do you Bruce." You hands have stopped shaking this isn't scary anymore. This is necessary for you you need to get out of this relationship or it's going to kill you.

"Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in the world you know this." He actually for once looks sad and isn't that something.

"But you don't love me enough to not cheat on me and I don't blame you. I keep forgiving you so why would you stop. Not this time though let go of me Bruce." His grip on you had gotten tighter and tighter as the conversation continued it was bordering on painful.

"If I let you go will you be here when I come home tonight." He's scared you've managed to scare Batman isn't that something.

"Don't make me lie to you. Don't make me treat you like you treat me." He flinches back like you've slapped him across the face and finally drops your arms. He probably would have perfered it if you had simply smacked him. Violence he understood. Violence was something he was good at.

"Is there anything I can say that will make you still be here when I come home." His voice hitches the smallest amount pushed down as soon as it comes up.

"No, and I think you already know that. I love you Bruce." You turn toward the staircase back up to the manor. You'll need to pack and stay in the penthouse tonight and then in the moring make a plan. You've reached the first step of your climb when Bruce finally speaks again.

"I love you Y/N I promise you I do."

There's no point in turning back so you keep going forward.

[noreasontobebland]

Rafayel x Black Reader

CW/// Raf has a slight mommy kink(sorry but he so gives the vibe), Eating Pussy, Raf has a dirty mouth, Fingering, Tounge fucking, messy pussy eating

I’m a Firm Believer All LADS Men Don’t Mind If You Didn’t Shave/Wax Yet, But Rafayel Actually Prefers If You Don’t

“Why do you get so sensitive over something so pointless? You humans are so vain.”

It came to you as a shock to see Rafayel doesn’t seem to mind when you forgot to go to your waxing appointment. Not that he’s ever shown you he cared too much about your looks. He always made you feel like the only woman in the world that matters which would be true.

He loves you at your lowest when you feel like you look terrible for those days your body is aching and your hair ain’t done, and when you pretty yourself up.

However Rafayel was always the pretty boy, even when he was dramatically ill on those nights he was at his weakest he looked so …majestic, he didn’t have any body hair either, he doesn’t grow much so you often caught yourself comparing how smoother his skin was to yours.

Silly, but true.

“I’m going tomorrow for my appointment. When I come back I’m all yours.”

“So you hate me.”

“What?”

He smacks his teeth, arms crossed. He really did not understand the big deal of your pubic hair and why you tend to remove it. Though he’d never judge you about it or question you, because he supports you regardless he will give you an earful on why he loves it.

“It shouldn’t matter if there is hair down there.” Rafayel’s voice drops down as he crawls between your legs, placing your hand to cup his cheek, a habit he has grown to do when he seeks the warmth and comfort of your hands. You seem to melt everytime with this tactic.

Oh if your little fishy only knew how cat-like he really acts.

“Please ….mommy…?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, he immediately went for a low blow that you should have seen coming, but it’s pretty rare he calls you that nickname. You huff at him, trying to keep your gaze at the beautiful dark blue sky reflecting off the water that evening, but Rafayel doesn’t stop, he turns your face back to him.

One hand on his cheek, and the other being guided down his neck, bare chest, down under the band of his bottoms to let your feel his dick practically grow in the center of your palm. You sink further into his cushy couch, his breath fanning over your lips.

“Please, I know I can make you feel good….i always do…”

“Raf…I’m…”

“Last time I made you cum twice. ….Then your body was practically crying out for more…you had some hair then and I loved how you felt grinding your pussy against my mouth I—-Besides I was more focus on that cute little clit of yours…She tasted so good—-“

“Rafie!” You moaned out his name to stop his talking, thinking about his own sweet noises he make when he eats you out, his indescribable soft lips against yours, and the way he makes out with your lower body sends a chill down your spine.

Lost in thought was officially broken when you felt your shorts being tugged on. The cool sea breeze hitting your clothed cunt you had squeezed your thighs but your boyfriend was stronger than you in every way prying them open to lay comfortably on his stomach between your legs.

You grimace a little seeing that some of your pubic hair was sticking out of your panties, and Rafayel didn’t seem to care his cheek laid on your warm inner thigh, tracing mindless shapes on your pussy and making small circles when he reaches you clit, “I’ll be quick? You don’t even have to look at me this time.”

“Yes you do.”

“Okay I do, but only if you don’t wanna look.”

He managed to crack a smile out of you, quite literally laughing you out of your panties seeing that your panties were now in his back pocket.

“You—-“

“Just say the word and I’ll stop….”

You really DIDN’T want him to stop…you’ve felt just as needy as him, but the hair you have now is almost turning into a bush, but the insecurity began melting away when Rafayel looked at you, then your pussy, licked his lips then looked back at you.

“I promise it’ll feel so good…plus I can smell you, you’re wet as hell—-“

“ALRIGHT—-AAH~”

Your horny fishie wasted no time pushing back the hood of your cli to suckle on, he began swiveling his head back and fourth, moaning and humming with satisfaction of eating you out.

….it was kind of hot, but also bizarre how much he didn’t care about your hair.

It didn’t take long for him to really prove it when he pushed your legs back against your chest and dived back in, his thumbs opening up your labia wider to tongue fuck you.

“This—-“ your words are broken in whimpers, “is so…embarrassing—-Raf!”

“Maybe for you…” He gave a harsh pop to your clit to punctuate his sentence, “But your pussy feels so good against my mouth, and you taste really good too…see look…your clenching.”

“STOP!”

“Uh uh…” Rafayel pouted and shook his head no in between your lower lips, as if what he wasn’t doing wasn’t lewd enough he brought two fingers to circle your clit while he plunges his tongue back in your weeping hole.

“Mmmmmmnghhh! Rafayel please…please don’t….dont stop!” Throwing your head back with little room you try reaching out for something and he immediately knew what you wanted so he went back to sucking on your clit to free his hand to interlock with yours as you came in his tongue.

His mouth followed the rhythm of your hips as you rode off your high, singing his name out loud and praising him, the hair began to rub against his mouth and it felt so good to the Lumerian boy he almost began to overstimulate you on accident by letting go of your hand to hold up your ass and rub against you more.

“See. Told you I’d make you feel good….now stop feeling like you need to shave…it’s stupid.”