#my fixations are acting up again

[squuote]

Realized how often the Narrator anthropomorphizes things in the Ultra Deluxe in order to encourage or bait Stanley. Which is so much different than how he was in the past endings, specifically the apartment ending. The way he now refers to all the different quotable and memorable objects in the game as Stanley’s friends.

There’s just something about the way the Narrator does at least deeply try to relate to Stanley’s need as a human, understanding more that we are sociable creatures. Giving us the bucket as something to cherish and playing along with the notion (despite getting very obviously upset when Stanley gets too attached to the bucket and then tries to break down that narrative). The attempt made to actually reach out to Stanley in a human-like way.

I don’t know where I’m going with this but the attempt at connection through the similar actions of a person or something like that. Acknowledgement of human needs, even if it's more or less the bare minimum effort.

[widevibratobitch]

actually im kinda happy with it lol probably because ive given up quite some time ago but yknow. its not that serious.

[rioblitzle]

oh yah reminder again about my pokemon sideblog ( @m4nectric ) where i reblog a ton of pokemon fanart! i tag every character so it can act like a wee archive for when i want to see pictures of a little guy. a lot of my pokemon reblogs are going there instead of here nowadays so if you want to see slightly more pokemon content on your dash you can give it a follow

[calpalsworld]

I really want to find some way to fix the problem but that desire is my compulsion (?) and it never actually fixes the problem. I tell myself to drop it and focus on other things like my art, but I just wish I could fix it now. The only way I can fix it is through ignoring it. And that will take time. (but also it feels unsafe to ignore it, because i feel like it is a real issue even though its probably not a real issue).

[void-tiger]

Maybe I’m doing pretty well at containing this, actually. Or at least not the WORST about it…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Happy Public Domain Day 2025 to all who celebrate

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/17/dastar-dly-deeds/#roast-in-piss-sonny-bono

In 1976, Congress set fire to the country's libraries; in 1998, they did it again. Today, in 2024, the flames have died down, and out of the ashes a new public domain is growing. Happy Public Domain Day 2025 to all who celebrate!

For most of US history, copyright was something you had to ask for. To copyright a work, you'd send a copy to the Library of Congress and they'd issue you a copyright. Not only did that let you display a copyright mark on your work – so people would know they weren't allowed to copy it without your permission – but if anyone wanted to figure out who to ask in order to get permission to copy or adapt a work, they could just go look up the paperwork at the LoC.

In 1976, Congress amended the Copyright Act to eliminate the "formality" of copyright registration. Now, all creative works of human authorship were copyrighted "at the moment of fixation" – the instant you drew, typed, wrote, filmed, or recorded them. From a toddler's nursery-school finger-painting to a graffiti mural on a subway car, every creative act suddenly became an article of property.

But whose property? That was on you to figure out, before you could copy, publish, perform, or preserve the work, because without registration, permissions had to start with a scavenger hunt for the person who could grant it. Congress simultaneously enacted a massive expansion of property rights, while abolishing the title registry that spelled out who owned what. As though this wasn't enough, Congress reached back in time and plopped an extra 20 years' onto the copyrights of existing works, even ones whose authors were unknown and unlocatable.

For the next 20 years, creative workers, archivists, educators and fans struggled in the face of this regime of unknowable property rights. After decades of well-documented problems, Congress acted again: they made it worse.

In 1998, Congress passed the Sonny Bono Copyright Act, AKA the Mickey Mouse Preservation Act, AKA the Copyright Term Extension Act. The 1998 Act tacked another 20 years onto copyright terms, but not just for works that were still in copyright. At the insistence of Disney, Congress actually yanked works out of the public domain – works that had been anthologized, adapted and re-issued – and put them back into copyright for two more decades. Copyright stretched to the century-plus "life plus 70 years" term. Nothing entered the public domain for the next 20 years.

So many of my comrades in the fight for the public domain were certain that this would happen again in 2018. In 2010, e-book inventor and Project Gutenberg founder Michael S Hart and I got into a friendly email argument because he was positive that in 2018, Congress would set fire to the public domain again. When I insisted that there was no way this could happen given the public bitterness over the 1998 Act, he told me I was being naive, but said he hoped that I was right.

Michael didn't live to see it, but in 2019, the public domain opened again. It was an incredible day:

https://archive.org/details/ClosingKeynoteForGrandReopeningOfThePublicDomainCoryDoctorowAtInternetArchive

No one has done a better job of chronicling the fortunes of our fragile, beautiful, bounteous public domain than Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle of Duke University's Center for the Study of the Public Domain. Every year from 2010-2019, Boyle and Jenkins chronicled the works that weren't entering the public domain because of the 1998 Act, making sure we knew what had been stolen from our cultural commons. In so many cases, these works disappeared before their copyrights expired, for example, the majority of silent films are lost forever.

Then, in 2019, Jenkins and Boyle got to start cataloging the works that were entering the public domain, most of them from 1923 (copyright is complicated, so not everything that entered the public domain in 2019 was from that year):

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2019/

Every year since, they've celebrated a new bumper crop. Last year, we got Mickey Mouse!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey

In addition to numerous other works – by Woolf, Hemingway, Doyle, Christie, Proust, Hesse, Milne, DuBois, Frost, Chaplin, Escher, and more:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/20/em-oh-you-ess-ee/#sexytimes

Now, 2024 was a fantastic year for the public domain, but – as you'll see in the 2025 edition of the Public Domain Day post – 2025 is even better:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2025/

So what's entering the public domain this year? Well, for one thing, there's more of the stuff from last year, which makes sense: if Hemingway's first books entered the PD last year, then this year, we'll the books he wrote next (and this will continue every year until we catch up with Hemingway's tragic death).

There are some big hits from our returning champions, like Woolf's To the Lighthouse and A Farewell to Arms from Hemingway. Jenkins and Boyle call particular attention to one book: Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, its title taken from a public domain work by Shakespeare. As they write, Faulkner spoke eloquently about the nature of posterity and culture:

[Humanity] is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance…The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

The main attraction on last year's Public Domain Day was the entry of Steamboat Willie – the first Mickey Mouse cartoon – into the public domain. This year, we're getting a dozen new Mickey cartoons, including the first Mickey talkie:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mickey_Mouse_(film_series)#1929

Those 12 shorts represent a kind of creative explosion for the Disney Studios. Those early Mickey cartoons were, each and every one, a hybrid of new copyrighted works and the public domain. The backbone of each Mickey short was a beloved, public domain song, with Mickey's motion synched to the beat (animators came to call this "mickey mousing"). In 1929, there was a huge crop of public domain music that anyone could use this way:

Blue Danube, Pop Goes the Weasel, Yankee Doodle, Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush, Ach Du Lieber Augustin, Listen to the Mocking Bird, A-Hunting We Will Go, Dixie, The Girl I Left Behind Me, a tune known as the snake charmer song, Coming Thru the Rye, Mary Had a Little Lamb, Auld Lang Syne, Aloha ‘Oe, Turkey in the Straw, My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, Habanera and Toreador Song from Carmen, Lizst’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, and Goodnight, Ladies.

These were recent compositions, songs that were written and popularized in the lifetimes of the parents and grandparents who took their kids to the movies to see Mickey shorts like "The Barn Dance," "The Opry House" and "The Jazz Fool." The ability to plunder this music at will was key to the success of Mickey Mouse and Disney. Think of all the Mickeys and Disneys we've lost by locking up the public domain for the past half-century!

This year, we're getting some outstanding new old music for our public domain. The complexities of copyright terms mean that compositions from 1929 are entering the public domain, but we're only getting recordings from 1924. 1924's outstanding recordings include:

George Gershwin performing Rhapsody in Blue, Jelly Roll Morton playing Shreveport Stomp, and an early recording from contralto and civil rights icon Marian Anderson, who is famous for her 1939 performance to an integrated audience of over 75,000 people at the Lincoln Memorial. Anderson’s 1924 recording is of the spiritual Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.

While the compositions include Singin' in the Rain, Ain't Misbehavin', An American in Paris, Bolero, (What Did I Do to Be So) Black and Blue, Tiptoe Through the Tulips, Happy Days Are Here Again, What Is This Thing Called, Love?, Am I Blue? and many, many more.

On the art front, we're getting Salvador Dali's earliest surrealist masterpieces, like Illumined Pleasures, The Accommodations of Desire, and The Great Masturbator. Dali's contemporaries are not so lucky: after a century, the early history of the works of Magritte are so muddy that it's impossible to say whether they are in or out of copyright.

But there's plenty of art with clearer provenance that we can welcome into the public domain this year, most notably, Popeye and Tintin. As the first Popeye and Tintin comics go PD, so too do those characters.

The idea that a fictional character can have a copyright separate from the stories they appear in is relatively new, and it's weird and very stupid. Courts have found that the Batmobile is a copyrightable character (Batman won't enter the public domain until 2035).

Copyright for characters is such a muddy, gross, weird idea. The clearest example of how stupid this gets comes from Sherlock Holmes, whose canon spans many years. The Doyle estate – a rent-seeking copyright troll – claimed that Holmes wouldn't enter the public domain until every Holmes story was in the public domain (that's this year, incidentally!).

This didn't fly, so their next gambit was to claim copyright over those aspects of Holmes's character that were developed later in the stories. For example, they claimed that Holmes didn't show compassion until the later stories, and, on that basis, sued the creators of the Enola Holmes TV show for depicting a gender-swapped Sherlock who wasn't a total dick:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/dec/22/lawsuit-copyright-warmer-sherlock-holmes-dismissed-enola-holmes

As the Enola lawyers pointed out in their briefs, this was tantamount to a copyright over emotions: "Copyright law does not allow the ownership of generic concepts like warmth, kindness, empathy, or respect, even as expressed by a public domain character – which, of course, belongs to the public, not plaintiff."

When Mickey entered the public domain last year, Jenkins did an excellent deep dive into which aspects of Mickey's character and design emerged when:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/mickey/

Jenkins uses this year's entry of Tintin and Popeye into the public domain to further explore the subject of proprietary characters.

Even though copyright extends to characters, it only covers the "copyrightable" parts of those characters. As the Enola lawyers wrote, the generic character traits (their age, emotional vibe, etc) are not protected. Neither is anything "trivial" or "minuscule" – for example, if a cartoonist makes a minor alteration to the way a character's pupils or eyes are drawn, that's a minor detail, not a copyrightable element.

The biggest impediment to using public domain characters isn't copyright, it's trademark. Trademark is very different from copyright: foundationally, trademark is the right to protect your customers from being deceived by your competitors. Coke can use trademark to stop Pepsi from selling its sugary drinks in Coke cans – not because it owns the word "Coke" or the Coke logo, but because it has been deputized to protect Coke drinkers from being tricked into buying not-Coke, thinking that they're getting the true Black Waters of American Imperialism.

Companies claim trademarks over cartoon characters all the time, and license those trademarks on food, clothing, toys, and more (remember Popeye candy cigarettes?).

Indeed, Hearst Holdings claims a trademark over Popeye in many traditional categories, like cartoons, amusement parks, ads and clothes. They're also in the midst of applying for a Popeye NFT trademark (lol).

Does that mean you can't use Popeye in any of those ways? Nope! All you need to do is prominently mention that your use of Popeye is unofficial, not associated with Hearst, and dispel any chance of confusion. A unanimous Supreme Court decision (in Dastar) affirm your right to do so. You can also use Popeye in the title of your unauthorized Popeye comic, thanks to a case called Rogers v Grimaldi.

This all applies to Tintin, too – a big deal, given that Tintin is managed by a notorious copyright bully who delights in cruelly terrorizing fan artists. Tintin is joined in the public domain by Buck Rogers, another old-timey character whose owners are scumbag rent-seekers.

Congress buried the public domain alive in 1976, and dumped a load of gravel over its grave in 1998, but miraculously, we've managed to exhume the PD, and it has been revived and is showing signs of rude health.

2024 saw the blockbuster film adaptation of Wicked, based on the public domain Oz books. It also saw the publication of James, a celebrated retelling of Twain's Huck Finn from the perspective of Huck's enslaved sidekick.

This is completely normal. It's how art was made since time immemorial. The 40 year experiment in life without a public domain is at an end, and not a minute too soon.

You can piece together a complete-as-possible list of 2025's public domain (including the Marx Brothers' Cocoanuts, Disney's Skeleton Dance, and Del Ruth's Gold Diggers of Broadway) here:

https://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/cce/

[neodazed]

enhypen - 🎀 - grinding/dry humping

ot7xfem!reader - grinding and dry humping

warnings: grinding, dry humping (wow the shock), clothed sex, thigh/knee-riding, hand-riding, nose-humping, abs too, mentions of doing it on objects, some might be executed slightly painful, not all humps are dry tho, lmk if i missed smth!

biggest kisses and hugs to every oral-fixation enjoyer out there 💋 can’t believe it got 600 notes ! also, i wanted to say that i’ll gladly take requests, but i’m a person who takes their time and def puts their brain-bugs first. have fun reading !

HEESEUNG

The first time Heeseung kisses you out of pure impatience, so rough his nose quite literally smashes onto yours, you know that’s something you will ride one day.

Obviously, you weren’t wrong.

But it’s not like you could just ask him bluntly — hey, you’re nose is so perfect, can I ride it? You didn’t have that much of a filthy mouth on you, no. You needed an ideal situation, which where you both were lost and loose enough to flew towards that direction.

So, back in the present, you’re already sitting on his face. The only fabric still “covering” you is the partially unclapped white bra, that Heeseung was too impatient to discard entirely, resulting in a annoyed huff, and just leaving it hanging off your tits, before grabbing your thighs in a harsh grip, and pulling you over his face.

Familiar it was, how your pussy enveloped mostly his chin and lips, a thing you’ve done countless times since you got together. The usual, practiced moves of his tongue licking your walls till the deepest parts he could possibly reach. His mouth closing around your clit, sucking so hard to the point you cried from both pleasure and faint pain. Sometimes, he liked to act like a jerk, and force you to stay in place, so that the joy you recieved was completely controlled and minimized by him, but truly, deep down, he was drunk. So high from how you taste, smell, and feel, all he wanted was to lay there and let you bounce on his face until he suffocates.

Totally normal about it.

Again, you’ve taken your well-deserved place. Your grip on his hair is tight and stable, as you lift your hips up and down in a repeating motion, sliding his warm muscle in and out of your pulsing hole. He groans into you, sending all the right vibrations, finger trying to rub your hard nub. When you push a little harder, paying a little less attention to wether he gets to breathe or not, you slide up enough that your clit brushes against the tip of his nose, and it’s so good you forgot everything you’ve thought out before. Your movements become intentional and directed, and his hand drops to his side by the newfound force. He waits a little, before grabbing your hips to pull away, his expression amused.

He’s smirking.

“If you like my nose so much, why don’t just sit on it all together?”

Your face reddens, realizing how obvious you have been. Is there a point of denying now though? Absolutely none. He gives a more soft, confirming nod, actually encouraging. You sit back, now in a position that allows his nose to go in between your puffy lips.

You don’t let yourself down entirely, but he doesn’t take your nice values happily, he grunts and pushes you down. Whimpers leave your mouth as you grind your clit without hesitation this time, a mantra of his name, gratitude to every god in the sky that let you have this moment. Crying out is an understatement to the noise you let out when the tip of his nose somehow manage to push past your ring. The bump rubs your insides in an unusal, yet mouth watering way. It’s Heeseung.

He’s the one slobbering over this, feeling like he’s on the edge of fucking heaven, and you’re about to send him through the gate by choking him into afterlife with your cunt.

Turns around it’s both of yours thing, afterall.

JAY

It was supposed to be a simple makeout session after dropping you off at home.

But then you started to stroke the back of his head with your cute little nails, opening your mouth wider, arching into his touch more, and before you could blink, you were in his lap.

However, he still holds back as much as he can, knowing you have to part ways eventually. He strokes your waist in a gentle manner, not pushing or pressing at all.

The problem is?

Those fucking jeans he decided to put on today. For anyone else, it looks and is like a simple pair of black denim jeans, and you are glad for that, honestly. Because thank god no one expect you stared at Jay enough to obsess over how the baggy pants got so tight in the place that mattered the most in this moment. You don’t even want to deny how you’ve been ogling at the bulge in his lap.

And that was him soft.

You must have a sixth sense, that made you wear a skirt today. As you lean onto his body, and lick into his warm mouth, it’s incredibly easy to just put your covered wetness on said bulge. He groans into the kiss, pulling back for a minute.

“We don’t have time to have sex now…” Is what he whispers, the words sounding almost painful coming from him, and you chuckle, continuing the kiss.

“We don’t have to” The short sentence is made in bits, taking a second for a sloppy kiss in between every word. He’s a tiny bit skeptical, but now so turned on he doesn’t protest.

He’s big enough to press against you in the right angle even through the tight material. It feels so big, so hot, so hard it makes a point itch somewhere deep inside of you. Your panties made of lace, and the fabric you try to so needily grind on make such an uncomfortable mix you’re not even sure how does it still feels so good.

It’s similar to a few things you did in the past, when you were single and inexperienced. Like humping a pillow, spraying cold water onto your clit on the hardest pressure, or grinding yourself back and forth on the arm of your chair.

Expect, now you’re not just dumbly chasing pleasure. It’s with Jay, who is kissing you so hard it bruises your bottom lip. With Jay, who guides you back and forth on his dick with his grip on your hips. With Jay, who pulls your soaked panties aside, and spits on your cunt you’ve rubbed raw by this point to make the slide easier, not caring if it also lands on his clothes. You already dirtied him with your slick, anyways.

It’s with Jay, who lets you explore and have your fun for a while, before getting frustrated and unbuckling his belt. The zipper he tries to pull down fastly grazes your lips, and you hiss, but immediatelly forget about it when his dick gets shoved into you the next second.

JAKE

It’s late in the evening.

The light breeze flowing in through the slightly opened window is a small sort of relief to your body, heated from the oppressive summer air and from the sight of your shirtless boyfriend laying next to you.

You are both tired - it’s obvious. Hazy eyes, short yawns, giggling about literally anything that happens in the late night glow, while you are wrapped up in each others presence.

But you can’t just go to sleep. Not like this, not when he is kissing so softly inside of the part connecting your neck and shoulders. When he reaches down to see if you’re also aroused, and it’s not just him growing needy despite the tiredness glooming over both of you.

He finds you wet, obviously. He smiles against your lips, proud of himself, and probably because he is a little out of it. Helps you kneel up just enough so that he can flatten his palm perfectly to cup your heat. He is way too spent to do his usual teasing, and the same goes for you. You make a silent agreement to just take.

His hand and forearm is strong, they don’t even budge as you begin to slowly rock yourself back and forth. You always loved them, to be honest. They’re big enough to envelope your smaller ones, his fingers are long and veiny, and it all screams perfection. He adds just the slightest pressure with one of his long digits to your clit, a motivation to go faster.

To hump the fuck out of it, basically.

But it wouldn’t be Jake if he wasn’t a whiny mess himself - he doesn’t ask for your palm, he just grabs it, and wraps it around his cock. He fucks your fist in a messy pace, no rhythm whatsover, sometimes yanking your arm so hard your own pace falters. Or the opposite, and he gets you in a position where the knuckles of his fingers press on your covered slit in a way that sends you to the edge right away.

‘S-so good, baby. Gonna come all over my hand? Gonna fuck yourself on it?’

Both of you do exactly that.

SUNGHOON

Black tank top+gray sweats+Sunghoon after his gym session?

Either have him now, or die, you think.

He’s sitting in front of you, with a towel loosely hanging around his neck.

The way his thigh strains beneath the thin fabric makes your mouth water, quite literally. All you can think about is having that taut muscle pressed between your legs, rubbing against your pussy through the fabric until it starts to ache — from both the frustration and the roughness of the material.

Then your gaze travels up to his torso, watching as the black tank top clings to his slightly sweaty muscles, outlining everything perfectly for your hungry eyes. You have to bite the inside of your cheek just to stop a moan from slipping out at the sight alone.

Of course, Sunghoon isn’t stupid — and by now, he knows you well enough to read your mind. Not that your lust-drunk expression left much to the imagination anyway. He smiles at your reaction, before pulling you into his lap.

‘Sit, pretty’ He pats his wide spread thighs for you.

He starts kissing you — hot, demanding. In contrast, his fingers are gentle as they caress your thigh, moving slowly up and down, occasionally slipping just beneath the edge of your shorts. You sigh under his touch, and your own hand sets off on a little adventure — though it’s a short one, since it only gets as far as his cock. He smiles into the kiss, grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand away. A frustrated little growl escapes your lips, making him chuckle softly.

‘What happened? The way you were staring, I thought you were planning to cum on my thigh.”

He says with a smug grin, pushing you back slightly in his lap.

You lift your hips for just a moment, letting him slide your shorts and panties down. With the layers gone, the hardness of his thigh sends even more pleasure surging through you, pressing perfectly against your pulsing wetness.

‘Damn. You’d really ride anything I give you. Are you that desperate for me, Love?’ You don’t have the energy to huff at his words, because truly, you really are that desperate.

You must be quite the shameless sight, reaching down with one hand to part your outer lips just enough to grind your clit directly against him. You can’t say it isn’t a little embarrassing — but the arousal far outweighs the discomfort. You’re wet, of course you are, and every forward motion makes everything even slicker.

Sunghoon watches your little performance with amused, mischievous eyes. He’s already rock hard beneath his sweatpants, but watching you struggle, rubbing your swollen clit against his thigh like that, was just too entertaining to stop you.

‘Mhm, that’s it, baby. Make that dirty cunt cum over my pants.’

And you do.

SUNOO

Sunoo always has nerve-wracking punishments that make you question, time and time again, why you decide to piss him off in the first place.

Of course, not enough to stop you from doing it anyway.

Yet you haven’t even done a single thing wrong — you simply showed your own little cute, polite self when you returned the male waiter’s courteous smile at the restaurant.

Apparently, you can’t smile out of pure politeness anymore — you note out loud, after Sunoo makes you strip naked in front him. Your snarky comment only makes him roll his eyes. Of course even now, you can’t fucking shut up. Your smile instantly fades when he suddenly reaches between your legs, to press his palm onto your flesh. He scoffs at your reaction.

‘I’m scolding your nasty behaviour, and you’re fucking getting off on it?’ You stumble on your feet, and quickly take a hold of his shoulder as you shrug as an answer to his question. It wasn’t meant to be answered. Sunoo pulls back, leaning against the armchair he is sitting in. He is still fully dressed, in black denim pants, and now half-way unbuttoned white shirt. His flashed collarbone and chest, combined with the angry look on his face is simply delicious to your eyes. He pats his knees for you to sit, so you comply. Your first move is to lean onto his mouth, but he grabs your jaw and stops you.

‘I didn’t say you can kiss me’ You sigh. Alright, typical. Should’ve thought so. Your next go is at his crotch, but when he also yanks you back from there, you are left dumbfounded.

‘You’re really that stupid? You don’t get to have my mouth, dick, or fingers, baby’ Oh, okay. So this is the punishment this time.

‘So…what are we doing then?’ You sigh, biting your lip. You are needy, he literally stripped you down, and you are sitting in his lap. There’s no way he just wants to sit around and make you suffer…Right?

‘I didn’t tie your hands, did I? Get yourself off somehow, but do it without my help’ And his cock, mouth and fingers, as he said. As you think about what should you do, you shift on his legs, trying to get more comfortable, and now, you don’t know if he does on purpose or purely accidental, but his knee also adjusts in the same moment, and slides right under your core. And that’s more than enough to inspire you.

You rest your paws on his thigh, to steady yourself. You pull your hips back a little, so your pussy is just right in front of his knee, then push back. The sensation is immediate, though it’s a mix of strange and good. The fabric of his jeans is rough, obviously not meant to be, well, rubbed on, but it’s not like a flicker (or some more) of pain is not something you love in the first place. With the pace you settled on, the humping movement makes you whine, bumping your clit against the bones of his knee again and again. It’s still not enough though, Sunoo can see it very clearly on your face, hear it dripping through your pathetic little sounds.

There’s no warning before he holds your hips down, and moves his knee up. You whimper rather loudly, naked chest slumping against Sunoo’s, grabbing onto his arms.

‘S-sunoo, that hurts’

‘Hurts? You don’t want me to stop though, do you?’ He smirks, knowing the answer damn well is a desperate ‘no’.

His knee spreads your pussy apart as much as possible, the hardest part continously dragging up your slit and against your clit everytime he pushes up. You let out a hiss. Your lips, your slit, the entrance of your hole, your bundle of nerves…they’re all red and swollen puffy of the harsh material rubbing against you. You are almost crying, when you release over his clothes, your liquid dirtying his expensive jeans.

‘Thought this would be a good punishment, but of course you enjoyed it.’

JUNGWON

Jungwon’s family home had ridiculously thin walls, and it didn’t help that his parents’ bedroom was just two doors down.

Knowing all that, you probably shouldn’t have made out with the poor boy like crazy the first time you stayed over — but what’s done is done.

You pulled away before things could go too far, and now the two of you lie next to each other, breathing heavily.You turn over, as if not seeing his face might somehow calm the desire burning in you — or in him.You feel him shift too, the slow, deliberate way he wraps an arm around your waist and buries his face in the curve of your neck.You let out a relieved sigh, thinking maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to fall asleep like this — in this soft, sweet little moment.

Then his hips move.

At first, you try to tell yourself he’s just shifting to get comfortable — but by the third slow grind, it’s hard to keep up that narrative.

‘Won. What are you doing?’ You tilt your head back slightly to look him in the eyes, whispering. The boy shakes his head while a delicate blush spreads across his cheeks.

‘I c-can’t help it. I need to feel you right now’ He says in a desperate tone, now grinding with intent against your ass.

You want him too, how could you not? You haven’t been able to do much since you got together yet, but the desire and chermisty is definietly there. You feel it everytime you meet, everytime you touch, everytime you look at him. Obviously, you’re not about to have sex now. It’s not the place or time to do it, but still…

You can’t say no.

You take a shaky breath. The fingers that were resting on his hand now travel further, stroking his arm that is wrapped around your middle. Not with the most confidence, though just as eager as him, you push back. Feeling his bulge press against your backside and thighs is not that new. But the impatient, hurried pace of it pressing onto you is, and you think it must be good for him.

Good, but is it enough?

You need more. You need his growing member on a place that is pulsing for him, unsure yet open at the same time.

The only thing you’re wearing are boxers and panties, so when you suddenly decide to turn on your other side, he’s not prepared to back up even a little bit, and his cock presses forward, but now onto your pussy, covered by the very thin layer of underwear. Your hand slaps on his mouth almost right way, to stifle the loud noise you know he’s about to make.

You keep one of your hands there, even when Jungwon rolls on top of you, to rub his leaking hardness harshly. He’s obviously frustrated, the layer of his briefs being the reason, since you have gotten so wet your panties almost make no difference in the process. He grunts, and frees his dick, reassuring you when he sees the doubtful look on your face.

‘I won’t do anything else. Just want to feel you better’

It’s messy. Full of pre-cum, slick, and slight sweat, a mix of fluids making the slide so hard. If he was inside, he would he in heaven now. He’s not though, and the slippery mess you have created together only makes his annoyence grow, his grip on you tighter, and the press of his hips unhuman, both in pace and strength.

If there was unresolved sexual tension between the two of you before, now there’s a whole bomb ticking for more.

RIKI

‘I had something in mind’ Is what you whisper into Riki’s mouth when you pull away to breath for a second.

At first, his brain doesn’t really register that you said something, and instead of an answer, he kisses you again. Making out with Riki is quite similar to a fever dream, you think. Relatively slow, but the intensity doesn’t lay in the pace he sets. It’s a nerve-wrecking build up of plump lips, firm hands and wetness.

Both of you like it sloppy.

You try to gently push him away by his chest, and he listens this time.

‘Yeah? What is it?’ He did listen at first too, he was just too into it.

You are not that embarassed to say it, of course. You and him make a couple who are both got a rather high sex drive, and Riki was certainly never afraid to voice his thoughts on new things you could try. You, on the other hand, might be a bit more shy to just blurt them out. You’re not ashamed of wanting it, but your boyfriend is so good at keeping that damn eyecontact, and that cocky smirk on his lips still, that you can’t help but get flustered at times like this.

‘It might be a little weird’

You tuck your hair behind your ears. The muscles of his face are already twitching, but he suprisingly manages to stay serious.

‘Weird to me? Or to you?’ His fingers stroke from your hips to the underside of your chest repeatedly, making it kinda hard to think.

‘To you. I think’ His expression turns amused, but he doesn’t comment anything else, looking forward to hear it finally.

‘I though I could like…you know. Your abs’ You don’t say the word ‘ride’. You don’t really want to, and you already have been grinding on his clothed cock, so the idea might give itself, hopefully.

‘You gotta be more specific than that, baby.’

Asshole.

‘Like…grind on it.”

He stills for a moment, shocked that you actually said that out loud. Then he nods, and peels his shirt of fin a swift motion. The perfect pattern of his abs are revealed to your eyes, your mouth runs dry at the sight. His broad shoulders, biceps, veiny forearms and hands…the well built six pack on his stomach is a perfect match to complete the beautiful man that he is.

He lays on his back on the couch, his upper body flexing in the movement. Since there was no question and he seemed to be on board, you decide not to give him any more chance to tease you, so without another word, you quickly shimmy your undies down, and straddle him.

Biggest beige flag?

‘When his abs are so well defined you can cum by rubbing your cunt on it’.

Yes, that’s pretty random yet you love it.

You have to part your outer lips to feel him, and he is quite mesmerized by the view he is blessed with.

‘Such a pretty pussy for me, hm?’

Now you are glad he is talking, his voice sends waves of pleasure through your body, and it all comes out in the form of your wetness gathering between your legs. You try your best to have a stable grip, but you keep on slipping on his abdomen. He huffs, grabbing your hips and fixing you. He starts to guide you, pressing you down so hard the only thing you can do is moan.

‘It’s a bit funny, no? You’re so needy for me. You want to ride everything I have’ He lets out a low chuckle. Your face turns red.

“And you let me do it. That makes you just as needy, no?’

He smiles, and drags you down for a kiss.

‘Not my fault I have such a freaky girl on me.’

bae @ziiao

[shawtuzi]

request: ‘Y/n showing her ass all on ig and ony fucks her shit up (and records it so he can show all her followers who really run shit🙂‍↔️)’

some more inspo vids: 1 & 2 & 3

ur mind is so powerful and that vid is *chef kiss* here you go nonnie hehe/// cw include: there’s actually a little bit of plot *gasp*, mentions of drinking, reader is a little tipsy throughout the story, protective!ony, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, slight daddy kink, ony is a tease, dirty talk, praising, rough sex, creampie, rushed ending i’m sawry/// wc: 5.4k

“can you see my thong when i bend over?

ony’s eyes, that were previously fixated on the tv, flicked over to your form, pupils zooming in on the thin fabric of your thong that peeked out over your jeans. his full lips lifted into a smirk, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. “yeah i can see it, don’t do too much bendin’ over.”

“yeah, yeah, whateverrrrr. the fit looks cute though right?” you did a little twirl for him, the obnoxious sounds of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor echoing throughout the room. ony paused his game, his eyes drinking in every inch of your outfit.

his pointer and middle fingers curled, beckoning you over to where he was sitting on the couch. as soon as you were in reach he yanked you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his thick thighs. “where are y’all heading to again?” he asked, tatted fingers trailing along the bare spots on your back.

your hands ran along his toned chest, his thin wife beater making it easy for you to feel every muscle and ridge. he always liked the way your long acrylics felt against his skin, it was almost comforting, in a way.

“we’re just gonna get some drinks, and then maybe go roller skating. nothin’ too crazy baby,” you’d lean in and give him a big smooch, but your lip combo was looking extraaaa perfect tonight.

his big hands cupped your ass over your jeans, before slowly moving up the play with the visible strings of your thong. “gonna be good tonight right? not gonna make me come up there and put nobody on a t-shirt right?”

ony knew you were as faithful as they came, and trusted you with everything in him, but what he did not trust was those thirsty sluts at the roller rink—especially the notorious connie springer. if he had a dollar for every time he heard about connie sweeping some girl off her skates he’d be a goddamn millionaire.

“don’t trip baby, it’s just gonna be me and the girls. if anyone tries it with me you’ll be the first to know,” and with that you were standing up. you bent over to give ony five featherlight kisses, careful not to mess up your lip gloss.

“be safe, i love you mama.”

“i love you more papa ❤︎”

( one mango margarita and three shots of tequila later . . . )

ony clutched his poor phone in irritation as he watched you act a complete fool on your instagram story. it started smooth at first, just a couple boomerangs and videos of you and your friends enjoying your time at the bar, but then he peeped that as he clicked through your story you seemed to be getting more and more lit.

what really did it for him was seeing you hang halfway out your friends car, your hips moving rather seductively as you shook your ass to the trap song that was playing over the stereo.

‘y/n, get your ass back in here! i’m not tryna get pulled over!’ he could hear your friend, who was the designated driver, say in annoyance.

you were already so lit and it’s only been an hour . . . what was he gonna do with you?

“ooou this girl is gonna be the death of me,” ony sighed, swiping over to the phone app. he looked over his contacts before clicking on ‘sun and stars ★’ aka you. the line rung six times before going to voicemail, but did that stop him from calling once more. on the fourth ring the line finally picked up, the sound of loud music and jumbled voices already giving poor ony a headache.

“babe?” he heard your cheery voice on the other end. wow, he hadn’t even realized how much he missed you until he heard your voice, his heart clenching at your missing presence. “hi baby, everything all right? i saw your story n’ it looks like you’re having a good time.”

“i ammmm, oh my gosh babe we gotta come here together sometime. i think s’like couples night or sum, everybody’s skating together and bein’ all sexy it’s making me miss youuuu.”

ony chuckled at the slurring in your voice, his thumb running over the tattoo of your name on the side of his pointer finger. fuck, he missed you.

it was quieter on your end of the line now, the loud music now nothing but a distant hum in the background. you must’ve went off to the bathroom to hear him better. “i miss you more, mama. n’ you know i can’t skate, i’d bust my ass every time!” he almost wanted to pout when you busted into a fit of giggles. oh how he wished he could hear your laugh in person.

“it’s okay, papa. m’gonna teach you and then we’ll be the sexiest couple in here,” you had a slight purr in your voice, and as shameless as it was, it did make ony’s dick jump a little. before he could say anything else you spoke once more, “i should get goin’ before they start looking for me. i’ll text you when i’m coming home, love you baby.”

ony’s head fell against the plushness of the couch, his lips turning into a frown. “i love you more, be good.” you giggled once more, promising that you’d be on your best behavior before hanging up, leaving onyankopon by himself once again. might as well make a little something for you to eat when you got home.

while ony whipped up something special for you at home, you were skating your heart out, doing all sorts of tricks n’ moves while your friends were fighting for their lives trying to keep from falling.

“yo, you’re pretty good.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder, your body shrinking away out of instinct. any man’s touch that wasn’t ony made you wanna gag. seriously, like, who did these men think they were putting their grimy hands on you???

the man must’ve thought you were falling, because his grip on your shoulder tightened, pulling you closer to him. you hummed and moved a little to the side, the pace of your legs never faltering. once there was a safe distance between you and the stranger you finally spoke.

“thanks. i used to skate a lot when i was a kid,” your tone was short and dismissive. why was he even talking to you with this loud ass music in the background???you finally looked at him to get a good look at his face, and i’m assuming y’all already know who it is. sigh. you could already feel your buzz fading away.

you couldn’t deny that connie was handsome, but he wasn’t ony. no one could ever compete with your ony. whether it be looks, strength, book smarts, street smarts—anything the average human could do, onyankopon could do it better. at least that’s how it worked in your mind.

connie offered you a sweet smile, “do i know you? you look real familiar.”

“you might. i’m with onyankopon, i know y’all run in the same circles or whatever.” as you and connie talked the flash of someone’s phone hit you both, startling you the tiniest bit. you ignored it, deciding to keep the conversation with connie going until the song ended, but before you could even bid him farewell you heard your name being called numerous times.

your friends were standing at the entrance/exit of the rink, their skates now replaced with heels. you glanced at connie, muttering out a quick ‘see ya around’ before using a nearby railing to get out of the rink.

“that felt like the longest five minutes of my life,” you sighed, sitting on the nearest bench. “why do you guys look like that?” no one said anything, instead your phone was placed in front of your face, and what you saw made you actually gag.

it was a video of everyone in the rink skating to some rnb song, and there you were, front and center with connie by your side, his signature smirk gracing his lips.

“fucking ew! why do they have to get me, of all people, on candid camera with him? disgusting,” your nose was scrunched in disgust as you undid the laces to your skates. “ugh, i know right. let’s go do something else, i heard there’s gonna be a slide show not too far from hereeee. we should go there instead, yeah?” your best friend said, wiggling her phone in front of your face.

“a slide show? i don’t know girl, ony would be pissed. you know he don’t want me around that shit.” you knew your boyfriend well, and anything that had to do with a bunch of charged up men and expensive cars sounded like a bad situation to him, especially if he wasn’t there with you.

“don’t trip it’ll only be for like ten minutes, i promise. unless you wanna be lame and get dropped off”, your friend teased, and that had you pouting. you wanted to be good and listen to your boyfriend, but you also didn’t want the night to end quite yet.

“i got a blunt we can smoke on the way thereee,” your friend added. now that peaked your interest.

“well . . .”

[ 8 missed calls from my love ❤︎ ]

[ 6 new messages from my love ❤︎ ]

my love ❤︎ : please tell me you’re not where i think you are.

my love ❤︎ : baby answer the phone

my love ❤︎ : answer now or i’m coming up there.

my love ❤︎ : i’m omw.

“this fuckin’ girl,” ony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. he knew you wanted to have a fun night with your friends, but this was an absolute no no for him. you not answering your phone, but still posting on your instagram story didn’t make things any better either.

he found the nearest parking spot he could and jumped out of the car, his feet moving before he could even lock the car. it seemed the slide show had turned into a party type of situation, groups of people and nice cars scattered throughout the street. he whipped out his phone, pulling up the find my app to pinpoint your exact location.

after ten minutes of searching and bland, one minute conversations with his friends, onyankopon finally found you. you were dancing to music playing from someone’s car, your behind backed up against your friends front. if he wasn’t so irritated with you, he would’ve stayed a few minutes longer in that spot to watch you dance some more.

you looked breathtaking, per usual. all the gold jewelry you were wearing had you looking like a walking goddess—his goddess.

ony took his time walking over to you. he could feel a smirk fighting its way onto his lips at the thought of your poor little face realizing you were somewhere you certainly shouldn’t be.

“y’all cute,” he called out in his most sarcastic tone. your body froze, panic flooding through your veins. fuck, has it been more than ten minutes?

you stood up straight, your bloodshot eyes connecting with ony’s chocolate ones. “h-hey baby! what’re you doin’ here?” your body was stiff as you walked over to him, careful not to trip over your heels. once he was in arms reach you fell into his chest, his musky, natural scent igniting a warmth in your lower half.

everything around you was muffled, all you could focus on was the steady beat of onyankopon’s heart. suddenly, he pulled away, muttering something about you hopping on his back. with little strength you jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist.

you turned to your friends, offering them a weak wave as ony carried you away, not saying a word. once you both made it to the car, he carefully set you inside, and adjusted your limbs so he was able to buckle you up.

the second he got in the car you turned to him, your lips pulled into a pout. “how drunk are you right now, babe?” he asked, taking your chin between his fingers to examine your face.

“i’m more high than drunk, but i’m fine, i don’t feel sick or nothin’,” your voice was quiet as you spoke, your hooded eyes looking anywhere but at him. “are you mad at me ony?” your eyes finally locked with his.

ony shook his head, “i am, but it’s okay we’ll get it sorted out at home. drink some of that water for me.” your eyes flicked to the water bottle that was dripping with condensation in the console. it looked heavenly to say the least.

the drive home was quiet besides the music playing quietly in the background, and you taking a few gulps of water every now and again. ony’s hand was glued to the thickness of your thigh the entire time, squeezing the jean covered flesh every couple of minutes.

he was silent when he parked the car in front of your apartment building, and he was silent on the way up to the apartment. he was quiet as church mouse when he helped you take off your heels, his lips pressing soft kisses your ankles when he took each heel off, and he was still silent when he helped you take off your top, leaving you in your bra and jeans.

ony knelt between your spread legs, his hands gripping onto your thighs for stability. “before i go ahead, just tell me one thing, did you have fun, baby?” his eyes softened as he waited for your response. you nodded, a small smile coming onto your lips.

“that’s good, i’m glad you had fun. now can you tell me why you were all the way in the city and not answering your phone?” his thick brow raised up, awaiting your response.

you nibbled on your bottom lip, the lip combo you were so proud of hours ago now smudged away. “we were sick of the roller rink, and jasmine heard about this slide show happening in the city sooo we went down there just to see what was going on. i tried saying no, i really did, baby, but then she bribed me with a blunt and full control of the aux so i caved.” your fingers began to fiddle with his own.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t answer i just a little too, um, immersed in my activities. and i’m sorry about the connie thing—”

“wait. what connie thing?”

your lips pulled into a straight line, your eyes squeezing shut in defeat. why, oh why did you have to bring that up?

“y/n, talk to me. use your words,” ony’s thumbs rubbed little circles into your thighs, silently telling you he’s not angry, and will not get angry at your response. he knew better than to think you tried anything with connie, he just wanted to know out of pure curiosity.

“well, since you asked—that lame came and talked to me. he be acting all nice n’ shit like everybody don’t know how much of a dog he really is.” ony couldn’t help but laugh at the scrunched up look on your face as you talked about it.

“and i guess the roller rink has an insta page or something, because next thing you know there’s a video of me and constance skating together. he followed me and liked everything on my story not even a half hour later—the man has zero shame! like, how’re you gonna waste my friends time, then come onto me like she’s not my friend and i don’t have a boyfriend?! granted, he only did say hi and complimented my skating but—”

ony could only smirk as you tipsily babbled about connie, and eventually moved on to a whole different topic. he didn’t interrupt you, instead he let you ramble on and looked at you with nothing but infatuation in his eyes.

suddenly your phone pinged, a notification from instagram popping up on your lock screen. “mmcht, speak of the devil,” you grabbed your phone, and opened the notification, showing ony exactly what you were talking about.

connie_springer replied to your story: i hope to see u again next time. we barley talked

ony read the message three times, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “‘barley’ . . . illiterate bitch.” it was silent for a few beats before you both burst into giggles.

now, you don’t exactly remember who initiated the kiss, but somehow ony managed to kiss you breathless, pinning you to the bed while his lips hungrily chased your own. his thumb pushed down on your chin, widening your lips just enough for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

“missed you baby,” he muttered against your lips. you tasted like spiked lemonade and strawberry gloss, an odd yet, salivating combo. you responded with a moan, your leg lifting up to wrap loosely around his waist.

“i wanna fuck.”

onyankopon grinned, his nose playfully nudging against yours. “all that liquor and weed went straight to your pussy hm?” his tone was teasing as he blindly reached between your bodies to undo the button of your jeans. “turn over, wanna take you from the back.” ony pecked your lips three times before helping you turn over, his strong hands moving towards your hips a second later to lift you to your knees.

the view before ony’s eyes was perfect.

you smiled when you saw a flash behind you—onyankopon loved taking him some pictures of his pretty girlfriend. you whipped your head around, your eyes flicking to ony’s concentrated one’s.

“you still mad at me baby?” you purred, playfully sticking your ass out more. a whine bubbled in your throat when you felt his bulge press right against your ass. ony kissed his teeth, “be quiet, y’know i wasn’t even mad in the first place. now look at the camera.”

you looked directly in the camera, you fluttered your lashes and gave him a tiny smirk before he took at least thirty pics of you in the same position. “beautiful . . .” you heard him mutter. you grinned, your cheeks heating up at the compliment.

“mm, you should post it that. connie follows you right? i think it’ll be funny.”

“what do you think i’m doin’, mama?” ony flashed you a smile, his fingers typing furiously at his phone before tossing it to the side. your phone dinged, a notification from instagram popping up. “d-did you tag me?” your breath hitched when ony tugged your jeans in one swift motion, the waistband now on the backs of your jeans.

ony knelt down, now eye level with your panty clad pussy. “i did, but you can look at that later,” was all he said before tugging your thong to the side, his warm tongue cupping your clit with quickness. you hummed in content, your face nuzzling into the comforter. ony traced slow, gentle circles around your clit, his tongue swiping down every couple of seconds to collect more of your essence on his tongue.

“f-fuck babe.” ony could hear your tiny voice whine, your hips now back and forth. he kissed your clit one last time before kissing his way up your pussy, his tongue slipping into your cunt with ease. his thumb replaced his tongue, rubbing tight, little circles on your clit.

onyankopon wasn’t shy to let you know that he liked giving you head. in just mere minutes he’d be moaning into your pussy and caressing your thighs delicately, mumbling little praises every now and again just to make sure you got the hint hehe.

your back arched when he rubbed the middle of his tongue, the softest part of it in your humble opinion, sloppily against your clit, dribbles of your essence now dripping off his chin and onto his chest. “yeah, y-yeah, keep doing that and i’ma cum,” your breath quickened, your eyes rolling back as the coil in your stomach got tighter n’ tighter.

“mmph, yeah? you gonna cum in my mouth baby? lemme hear you,” ony’s thumb pushed the skin above your clit up, exposing it even more to his skillful tongue. “y-yes on—y!” your kiss bitten lips dropped open, back arching impossibly deep when you felt his fingers pinch your clit.

“try that again, what’s my name? whose mouth are you gonna cum on?” as tipsy as you were, your cheeks still went hot at the mention of his ‘bedroom name’. truly you weren’t into calling men daddy at first, it put a sour taste in your mouth—but then ony came along. sure you called him ‘pa’ and ‘papa’ occasionally but this just felt . . . different. he didn’t push you into calling him anything during sex, only suggesting it, and you were sure you’d never even think to call him daddy . . . until one night, when he had you folded up, your spent pussy pulsing around his dick as you chanted his new name like a prayer.

“i-i’m, i’m gonna cum on your m-mouth *huff*, daddy.”

“atta girl,” ony hummed, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. his middle and ring fingers slipped into your clenching entrance, immediately bumping into that spot that had you squealing. he would’ve made you cum whether you called him daddy or not, he just liked to fuck with you when you got like this. so annoying.

your thighs began to shake, your orgasm approaching closer and closer. “hah! hah! f-fuck m’cumminggg.” ony pushed your weight forward, his face burrowing into your pussy as he slurped and sucked up your cum like it was the finest wine he’d even tasted.

he licked you through your orgasm until you were whining oh so cutely in overstimulation. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his tongue running over his lips just to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

“fix that arch,” ony grunted, tugging his sweats down in one swift motion, his achingly hard dick springing free. you mewled, fixing your position as you mentally prepared for the insane dicking you were about to receive.

he bent down, pressing one, two, three soft kisses across your waist. “you’re so pretty, look at me one more time,” you felt his warm hand squeeze your waist as he spoke, his words laced with love and adoration. you slowly craned your neck to look at him. your eye makeup was already becoming a little streaky, and your lips were all swollen—probably from biting them so hard.

“thank you baby, but with all due respect save the sappy shit for the aftercare, i need your dick now,” your tone was playful, but he could tell you really needed it by the way your hips started to shimmy. ony grinned, his hand reaching down to grip his leaking cock. he slapped it against your ass cheeks a few times before slipping himself between your folds, your wetness and warmth embracing him like the universes’ warmest hug.

he hissed, his teeth catching onto his bottom lip when he felt your hand press his cock impossibly close to your pussy. you could feel the dull throb of him against your clit, and it had you feeling dizzier than any liquor ever could.

“put it in, baby. i need it,” you whined into the comforter. your clit had a heartbeat in it so aggressive, it was borderline painful at this point. ony had had just about enough of his teasing too, because he fulfilled your wishes and filled you up with his dick the second you finished speaking. he was in to the hilt, your pussy gripping him like a vice as you tried to adjust to his size.

he pulled out less than halfway before slowly pushing back in. he did that over and over until he began a steady rhythm. “you’d think after all the times we done fucked you wouldn’t be this fuckin’ tight,” he grunted, slapping your right ass cheek with force.

ony noticed you becoming greedy for more, your hips seeming to have a mind of their own as you tried to match his slow strokes with quicker, sloppier movements. he fisted the flimsy of your thong, careful not to rip it. “slow. the fuck. down.” he growled in between strokes, making sure you felt each puncture of his dick against your cervix.

he tongued the inside of his cheek, thinking to himself for a moment before halting his movements. he puckered his lips, letting a glob of spit fall onto your untouched hole. he felt your body tense, a smirk coming onto his lips as he watched the spit trickle down and mix in with the creamy mess that was you.

before you could whine about his lack of thrusts, he started up a steady pace again, eventually getting faster and harder as the minutes ticked by. “you like that?” he grunted, using his free hand to push your head further into the mattress. you nodded as best as you could, “y-yes, daddy, i fu—huckin’ love ittt.”

you felt him in your stomach, your chest, your fucking head. you felt it everywhere—all your senses consumed by him.

in between his brutal strokes ony had a sudden need, he wanted a kiss. without stopping the rolls of his hips, he pushed your lower half down, his arm wrapping itself around your neck to prop your head up. your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, a line of drool slipping from your trembling lips and onto the comfort that was already soaked with your tears.

his pace switched from fast to slow, his hips snapping against your backside rather roughly with each thrust. “kiss me,” you heard him whisper into your ear, his hot tongue lolling out to lick over the shell of your ear.

“come on, baby. you can do it. jus’ turn your head a lil to the left and give your ony a kiss.” it took literally every ounce of strength you had to turn your head, but you succeeded and got rewarded with a very sloppy kiss. he sucked on your bottom lip, and then your tongue. his kisses tasted tart from previously devouring your pussy.

your feet thrashed against the bed, a moan getting caught in your throat as your second orgasm of the night hit you like a semi—unexpectedly mind you. ony pressed his pelvis harshly against your ass, his hips moving in slow circles to draw your orgasm as long as possible.

“can’t— *hiccup* c-can’t take anymore pa,” you sniffled, fat tears rolling your puffy cheeks. ony kissed you, long and slow, before pulling away. “yeah you can, stay like that,” he muttered, pushing himself up. his thighs were on either side of your hips, his dick still snuggly sheathed inside your aching cunt.

his hands squeezed at your ass cheeks, spreading them so he could get a view at the way your pussy gripped him. your mouth parted in a silent scream when he pushed his hips forward, his cock sliding an extra inch deeper. “too deep, ony! t-too deep,” you panted, your manicured hand reaching behind you to slap against his lower stomach.

“keep your hand there, s’not gonna stop me, baby. it never does,” he breathlessly chuckled, rolling his hips. something felt off. very, very off, like you were about to—

ony was slightly taken aback by your force as you pushed his hips back, his soaked cock slipping out as a flood of your cum hit the sheets. he could only watch in awe as your hand reached between your thighs, fingers sloppily rubbing circles around your clit. you didn’t really know were doing in that moment, but it just felt right. the giant coil in your tummy had finally unraveled, leaving you a gasping, sobbing mess as you rode out your second unexpected orgasm.

your body slumped against the mattress, your soaked thighs twitching violently. “what the fuck . . . i didn’t know you could do that,” ony muttered, his fingers swiping against the puddle formed on the sheets. you shrugged and shook your head. shit, you didn’t know you could do that either!

onyankopon scooted off the bed with shaky legs. he gently tugged your jeans off the rest of the way before turning you over. “just need you to hold on a little bit longer, mama. just need to make me cum, n’ then we’re done, okay? use your words so i know you’re good.” his fingers tapped at your jaw, signaling you to speak.

your lashes fluttered open, “m’good ony, wanna make you cum now.” onyankopon gave you a little smile, his eyes never once leaving yours as he set your ankles over his shoulders. he turned his head, giving both of your ankles a kiss. “my pretty baby,” he whispered, his hand reaching down to give his dick a few pumps.

he tapped the tip against your clit, smearing any leaking pre against your folds before slipping in with ease. you both moaned in unison, and funnily enough your noses both scrunched up the same way from being connected once more. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling the tiniest bit to let him know you’d like to be closer.

ony obliged, adjusting himself so he was able to lean down and be closer to you. the new angle had him hitting deeper, each thrust damn near knocking the air out of your poor lungs. “hah, love you, baby,” he panted, messily pressing his lips against yours. you cradled his face in your hands, your legs wrapping tightly around his slim waist. “love you more, daddy.”

ony groaned, his face nuzzling in your neck a second later to contain his whines. “inside? can i?” you heard him whine into your neck, his rhythm getting sloppier each time he pulled out. you nodded furiously, begging and pleading him like a lil slut to cum inside you that moment.

ony let out his first vocal moan of the night, his hand slapping beside your head to fist at the comforter. you felt a sudden warmth inside you and sighed contently, your legs tightening around his waist to keep him in place. he spent the next couple of minutes pathetically humping into your pussy, relishing in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

his grip on the sheets loosened, his body relaxing completely into yours. “ugh, baby, you’re so heavy,” you whined, pushing at his broad shoulders. ony only hummed, not moving an inch, and after multiple attempted to push him off you did the only thing you could do.

“hah! babe, d-don’t do that,” ony hissed, finally lifting his head up. you narrowed your eyes, clenching around his softened dick again, “then get the heck off me.” he sighed dramatically, pressing one last kiss to your neck before pushing himself up.

“all warm, mama?” ony hummed, wrapping your favorite fluffy towel around your bare body. you nodded, your mouth parting in a yawn. man were you ready to go the hell to bed.

after ony found his strength he got up and forced you into the shower with him, despite your whines and protest of being ‘too tired’. he held you for the first ten minutes, clutching onto your body as if you’d slip away while the hot water cascaded down your bodies. he then took his time washing your body, making sure no skin was left untouched before quickly doing himself.

now it was finally time for cuddles and, most importantly, time for bed.

he carried you to bed, of course, carefully laying you down on your side and tucking you in. when he got into bed you immediately latched to his side, your head finding its rightful place on his chest.

“shit, forgot i posted this,” ony chuckled showing you the story he had tagged you in an hour prior to your . . . activities. you examined the picture, a lazy smile making its way into your lips. “my ass looks so fat in this, good job babe.” you pat him on the chest a few times, your lips parting from yet another yawn.

“mm, you’re welcome, baby. not get some sleep, n’ make sure to dream about me,” he chuckled, giving your forehead three kisses.

[emillionaireee]

warnings: softdom!matt, unprotected p in v (don't do it girl), finger sucking, oral fixation in a way?, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl 😩😫)

if you don't feel comfortable with these themes feel free to click out! 💞

matt usually loved your noises during sex. not that he didn't right in his moment but it definitely was an inconvenience while his brothers were downstairs. not aware of the sinful acts happening upstairs in matt's room.

you were in missionary your legs over matt's shoulders as he slowly slammed into you again and again. his thrusts were deep but slow and loving making sure you felt all of him. "ohh!" you moaned as you felt him hit a spongy spot higher up inside you.

"baby i already told you to keep quiet" matt said starting to grow frustrated. "m'sorry! it's t-too mhm good!' you said quick to defend yourself. matt continued to rutt his hips into your wet slick over and over again as you took him whole.

both of his hands were on your knees holding your legs over his shoulders. he moved one hand slowly moving it to your mouth. he fiddled his middle and ring finger into your mouth. "c'mon sweetheart you know what to do" he whispered. your tongue glided around his fingers and you sucked them rollin them around in your mouth.

matt suddenly picked up the pace causing your back to arch taking his fingers deeper in your mouth. "mgh ngh" you moaned, matt's fingers muffling the sound greatly so only matt could hear. the sides of your mouth drooling as matt watched you lustfully.

"fuuuuck baby" he said going faster than before. the pillows placed between the headboard and wall beforehand coming in handy. your eyes rolled back as the familiar knot in your stomach formed as you felt yourself reach your high. "c-close" you managed to whimper

"go on baby it's okay" matt said giving you permission to come. you whimpered around his fingers as you came your pussy clenching around him making him come inside you. he rode both of your highs out and pulled his fingers out your mouth with a wet 'plop'.

"such a good girl f'me hm?"

notes: that photo has me in CHOKEHOLD anywayss my bday in 3 dayss, and tysm for the support on my last fics!! also send requests !!

currently WORKING on masterlist!!

[sunsburns]

i think ur oral fixation surprises both you and joaquin when you take his dog tags into ur mouth and suck on them. they're just dangling in your face how could you ever resist

oh my god?? my jaw is on the floor. this is insane. i love it. (18+)

it wasn’t like you could stop yourself.

you were already a little out of it—joaquín had been treating you too good all night. from dinner, where he played footsie with you under the table until your heel slid just a little too high, leaving him red-faced, to the way he kissed you against the door before you could even get your keys out. and now, after everything, after he’s had you gasping and writhing beneath him, you’re both wrecked and breathless, tangled together in the sheets, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his hips roll against yours.

it’s a sweet pace, a little sloppy, his rhythm faltering as his body trembles. he’s close. you can tell by the way his huffs turn into short, needy whines.

joaquín loves missionary, loves looking at you, touching you. but right now, his eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed tight as his fingers tangle in your hair, cupping your jaw like he can’t bear to let go.

every thrust rocks you against the mattress, the old frame creaking beneath you both. the headboard knocks against the wall in time with your moans, the wet, desperate sounds between you filling the room. and over it all, there’s the soft, steady clinking of his dog tags.

your gaze drops from his face to the chain hanging around his neck. the tags sway with every movement, catching the faint light from the window, gleaming silver against the tan of his chest. it’s distracting, the way they dangle just above your lips, taunting you. you don’t think—just act—lifting your head as he drives particularly deep, parting your lips so the tags graze your skin, clinking against your teeth before you take them fully into your mouth.

it takes joaquín exactly two seconds to notice.

the slight tug at his neck drags him forward, and his eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused at first until he sees—

oh.

a shudder wrecks through him, his hips stuttering to a halt as a deep, broken groan spills past his lips. he stares down at you, panting, his dog tags resting on your tongue, your lips wrapped around the cool metal. you stare back, never breaking eye contact as you flatten your tongue against them, tracing over the engraved letters of his name and military rank. captain torres.

the taste is sharp, bitter and metallic, and you moan around it, letting the sound vibrate against the chain. his hand tightens in your hair, fingers flexing.

"qué… qué haces?" joaquín rasps, voice wrecked, thick with something he doesn’t fully understand yet. his brows knit together, but the heat in his gaze betrays him.

you hum around the tags, sucking lightly before letting them drag against your lips as you pull back just enough to murmur, "couldn’t help it. they were just… there."

joaquín lets out a choked noise, somewhere between a curse and a groan, his grip on you tightening. he presses his forehead against yours, exhaling shakily.

"dios mío…"

his breath is hot against your skin, his chest heaving, but you don’t let up. you close your lips around the tags again, sucking, a little filthier this time, pulling him down with you. his chain tugs against the back of his neck, making him swallow hard. his hips jerk forward on instinct, and you sigh through your nose at the way his cock fills you again, deeper than before.

joaquín doesn’t even try to hold back his groan this time. his fingers tighten around your hand beside your head, gripping like it’s the only thing grounding him. then your nails scrape against his scalp, urging him on.

that does it.

he snaps his hips forward, rutting into you with a newfound urgency, his rhythm completely wrecked. the bed creaks louder, his moans slip freer, and you’re right there with him.

he’s never going to be able to wear these without thinking about this moment again.

[boyfhee]

𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗬 𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗦 ㅤ⠀━━━━━━ ㅤ 엔하이픈

PREC𝒾S . . when you gotta go but they need you closer, right in their arms.

✶ 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍ㅤ｡⠀bf ! enha, fluffy fluff >//< ㅤ2O68 ..ㅤㅤ kissing, petnamesㅤㅤㅤread more :3

╰⁠(⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠╯ㅤ..ㅤ wrote this because i couldn't sleep :D happy reading !!

HEESEUNG

“one last kiss!”

“heeseung, go—” you groan in frustration, although your words are laced with half affection as you try to close the door on him, only for him to stop it by his hands, stepping inside.

you sigh at his smirk, arms crossed while he's putting on his best act, hand over his chest and all, words dripping with mock despair. “you're breaking my heart, angel,”

“and you're overreacting,” you huff, but honestly, you don't mind this one bit.

“one last kiss,” his hands find your waist, backing you up against the nearest wall. he feels your breath hitch, his own heart racing as he leans his forehead against yours and whispers softly. “just one, and i'll leave. i promise,”

it's like you're talking in gazes— yours fixating on him while his travels down to your lips. it only takes a brief second before you find yourself gravitating towards him, your lips moulding with his in a deep, slow kiss.

you gasp when he pulls you closer by your waist, tilting his head for a better angle, arms wrapping themselves around you like a lifeline. it's something between a longing hug and a needy kiss, and you're not sure if he's going home tonight.

JONGSEONG

it happens when he extends his arm to reach out for you.

cold. and he groans softly.

jongseong is a heavy sleeper and the only thing that can wake him up in an instant is you, or rather— your absence.

he opens his eyes, squinting them at your sleeping figure which is all warm & snug under the beige duvet. the sound of bedsheet shuffling fills his ears as he extends his arms and wraps them around you, pulling you flush against him.

“seong?” you mumble, voice dazed by the sweet slumber that was now interrupted by his sudden hug.

“nothing baby, go to sleep,” he whispers softly, pressing a soft kiss over your cheeks. you're not convinced but honestly, you're too sleepy to implore further.

so instead, you shift even close to him, arms wrapped around his waist, legs tangled, your warm breath fanning against his bare chest— a drowsy smile finds its way to his lips.

he could get used to this.

JAEYUN

“can't you stay longer?” you should've seen it coming, honestly. his constant need to hold your hand, soft caresses on your knuckles like feather on water while he was driving, the grip on your hand that keeps getting firmer as the car approaches your house— he's not ready to let you go yet.

“baby, i promise we'll meet again tomorrow,” you attempt reassuring him as he pulls over at your place, gently taking your hands out of his and cupping his face.

“yes but tomorrow,” he melts in your touch, lips jutted forward in a pout. “way too long”

it's hard to say no when he's being so desperate, giving you his best puppy eyes that are sparkling with pure love and yearning, the pout being cherry on top.

you can't help but laugh at his insistence, pressing your lips against the tip of his nose. “you're insatiable,”

“can't blame me, i have a beautiful girlfriend,” he knows he's got you right where he wants. it's in the way you let him press fluttering kisses on your cheeks, allowing his hands to pull you into a warm hug by your waist. “how am i supposed to live without her?”

and you know your next words are going to be a lie but you end up speaking anyway, sighing mockingly. “just five minutes more,”

SUNGHOON

sunghoon would never admit to being a clingy boyfriend even though his actions say otherwise every time you two are together.

“get up now,” you tell him for the fifth time now, hands ghosting up his hair and moving to his shoulders.

“mhm,” he hums in response, or perhaps it's discontentment with the way he holds you a little tighter, nuzzling his face in your stomach. “keep doing that,”

“doing what?”

“the thing you were doing with my hair,” you can feel his words brush against your skin, your top slightly lifted up as he draws random patterns on the bare skin of your waist. “it feels nice,”

and you can't help but comply, your fingers getting lost in his soft brown locks. the scent of his shampoo draws you in and your lips curl into a smile when you feel him relax further under your touch.

“don't stop, please,” his voice is quiet, laced with a silver of desperation, his need for you to be close. he only hugs you tighter, a breathy chuckle erupting from your mouth when he buries his face in your belly.

and sunghoon is definitely not a clingy boyfriend, but you don't mind if your mornings start a bit late just because he wants you to hug him and play with his hair a few minutes more. “i won't,”

SUNOO

your boyfriend has been following you around wordlessly for a while now,

he finally musters up the courage to reach out to you, hugging you instantly, afraid of looking at you in the eyes. “you're mad at me,”

“i am not, sunoo. let go,” you try to reassure him, hands on his arms as you gently push him away with a snicker, only for him to hug you tighter.

“you aren't even looking at me,” he's pouting now, once starry eyes now drowning in guilt as they refuse to let go of the sight of you. “ it completely slipped my mind. i swear it wasn't intentional.”

and sunoo isn't the one to forget plans. he makes them, he's the first one to get ready. it's unusual, rare, when he misses a date— your first time in two years and perhaps that's why it stings a little more than you had expected, but you do understand his urgency towards work.

you nod, caressing his cheeks, lips pressed in a thin line. “i know and it's okay,”

“really?” he wants to believe you, he hopes you mean it, and if you don't, he's ready to try a million times to make it up to you. “i love you,”

you don't get a chance to respond, words left unsaid on the tip of your tongue when he starts pressing butterfly kisses all over your face.

“never—” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “—ever—” and then on both your cheeks, followed by the tip of your nose. “—forget that,” and lastly, on your lips.

JUNGWON

“do we have to go?” he asks with almost pleading eyes, the whiney voice only lurching your heart further when you look at him.

“yes,” you respond with a gentle kiss on his forehead before pulling back, your hands still cupping his face. “before our friends notice our absence,”

“i hate keeping this a secret,” he doesn't break eye contact when he says this, kissing both your palms simultaneously before his hands go back to your hips, wanting to have you in his lap just a little longer. “just wanna show you off, darling,”

it leaves you breathless when he tugs you closer to him, the lack of space in the storage not helping you with keeping your sanity together.

it's dark, you feel his warm breath fanning against your face. you almost lose all your reasoning before composing yourself. “we'll tell them soon,”

“promise?”

and you nod, caressing his cheeks gently under your fingertips. “promise,”

“okay, now let me kiss you more,” he doesn't let you respond, immediately brings his lips back to yours, and when you hear a knock on the door, your lips kiss-swollen, lipstick smudged on his— you realise you can't keep it a secret anymore.

NI-KI

“riki let go—” you try getting away for the hundredth time, hands on his chest— your best attempt at stepping away and once again, he manages to pull you in against him.

“shut up,” he mutters against your hair, pressing butterfly kisses before bringing his head down to your ear, whispering. “you talk too much,”

the hint of irritation in his voice is betrayed by the softness of his touch, in the way he gently takes your arms and wraps them around his waist, as if they belong there.

your head is tilted all the way up, chin resting on his chest and he looks even more handsome under the streetlight. “if my parents find out, they're killing both of us,”

“then i'll make sure to find you in my next life too,” and you don't know what has gotten into him— even he is surprised, but none of you say anything, letting the silence speak for your hearts.

“cheesy,” you whisper against his hoodie, melting in the warmth of his embrace in the cold night, biting back a smile when you hear him whisper a quiet 'i love you' in the crook of your neck.

[fairene]

gravity / ln

lando norris x fem!reader

reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n.

where your life with him is just beginning.

yes! yes! i have insane brainrot for lando norris! yes! this is meant as a single 'oneshot' of sorts, but i am open to taking requests of this so called 'universe.' reader here is a stem major, particularly physics (shoutout to the stem students!) which helps perfect the progression. also was inspired by interstellar.

wc: 15.2k woops!

warnings: smut! -- MINORS DNI!!, porn with a lot of plot! angst, drinking, language, friends to lovers, corruption kink (minor), choking, soft!top lando.

it was all consuming; he was, at least, with his curly hair, upturned eyes, smile that brightened the entire room. utterly irresistible, any woman could agree. they’d jump his bones the second he gave them a lingering glance, a playful wink.   but that’s all it ever was with those girls— glances, observations. but you, on the contrary, were a fixation. an obsession, one might call it— actually, someone has before. but you ignored it and let it fly over your whimsical head. how could a man like lando norris ever glance in your direction like he did those models, influencers? 

you were always just his friend. his best one, yours too you’d admit only in the solace of your lonesome in the hours of the evening. you met him when you were studying abroad in london at the ripe age of nineteen. you were there on a research term for a professor at your university, though it was much far north of london's borders. still, the girlfriends you managed to make would insist on your attendance to the night club scene on the town. 

who were you to deny any pleasantries? a hardworking student. a student with a vision, a dream to be more than what society compressed women to be. you’d rather be out to the stake like a medieval witch than become a loftily homemaker. while it was some of your friends desires, yours stretched far beyond the horizon of which any life was palpable. 

a nerd in short terms. 

you studied physics. with as much fun as your girlfriends had in the club, you found it in the quiet evenings if your research. you’ve devoted a great deal of time for your studies, but hey— every girl lets go here and there. 

the one time you did, you met him. in the late evening hours of the bustling club, drink in your hand, short dress sticking to your sweaty skin, he scared your close friend, laurel.

“boo,” he had said with a low tone, grabbing the girl with a blonde bob by the shoulders. she shrieked despite the loud atmosphere and spun around, slapping him on the chest. 

“lando!” she exclaimed, which had your attention drawn upward from the half bitten olive in your martini. he was taller than her, than you, muscularity built with a low taper cut of chestnut hair. he was freckled, and the first thing you noticed about him was the way that his eyes smiled. 

they curved up at the edges and you could feel the warmth of the sun drip in from the rooftop. even though it was past midnight at this point. 

“i didn’t know you were coming,” laurel breathed at an awkward pace then turned to face you. she outreached her hand for you to take with your free one. you did, feeling warm from the alcohol that you had downed from the night. 

“lando, this is my bestie from school,” she introduced you by name, to which you gave a small, dramatic courtesy towards the brit. his eyes caught on your act, gleaming with something you could even see in the yellow hued lights of the club. “this is lando norris, rookie of…what team again?”

you glanced from laurel to lando, brows raised. he hesitated for a moment, gracing you with a lopsided smile that, in time, you’d come to adore. 

“mclaren. formula one racing.” he answered, taking a hand to brace the back of his neck. he felt the need to clarify for you, which you took in earnest. he earned a light ahh in your reaction. 

you were impressed, to say the least. you hadn’t ever met a formula one driver in the flesh, nor you could say you were a devoting fan. of course you knew what it was, watched it on sundays when your uni friends would turn it on, but that was it. as smart as you were, it seemed that someone knew more about something than you did. you reeled. 

“and you like it?” you said after a beat, swirling the toothpick inside the olive around your finger. lando seemed to contemplate your words, taken back by such a question. without a doubt he liked racing, otherwise he wouldn’t do it. but that’s not what she was asking, was she? it weighed on him more as his mind unraveled the layers to such a question, but he ended on a simple answer:

“i don’t know if i could love anything more.” a jest, playful and lightheaded when it came from him. 

but how the whims would be tested over the years. 

────────────

a year later

“a whole season, lando?” you asked him, hands drawn out before you to iterate the sincerity of what he was asking. 

a season of going to races with him.

you were graduating within the next two semesters. twenty two now, whereas he was twenty three. but you had qualified to graduate early, as your intent was to do as such, but the tempting leave of absence form that sat in your lap tempted you even further. 

you sat in his monaco flat, a frequent place you visited or stayed until you recently gained residency in monte carlo. it was efficient enough for what you needed to do for work— france around the corner, italy to the west. the best physicians rallied in europe, and staying in the isolated united kingdom was not the best option for you. you caved at his months of pleading to move to monaco. 

your legs crossed as you glanced from his pacing, anxious position. your fingers tapped incessantly at the piece of paper before you, pre-addressed envelope sitting on the coffee table. 

“why not?” he questioned, putting his hands up in defense, stopping before you. he looked down at you, his heart thundering in his chest. say yes he wanted to plead. his knees felt weak. wobbly as your eyes looked back at him, determined. he loved that look. it drove him wild, enchanted by how the cogs of your brain turned. 

you sighed, looking off to the side out the floor to ceiling window. “how would i even pay for all—“

“you wouldn’t drop a pound.” 

you were taken back. you could never expect him to pay for that. you knew he was well off, given his hefty contract, but you are friends. friends don’t use each other for money. 

“lando—“ you began to shake your head. 

“no, no, don’t do that.” he stopped you, earning a glare from you. he shivered, relishing in how vindictive you could be. he hasn’t seen it many times untamed, but the fantasy had his blood roaring. “if money wasn’t a problem, would you come?”

“well—“ you attempted to come up with a defense, but nothing formed. you were at a loss of words. “what would i even wear?”

it was february when you touched down in jeddah. lando has instructed you to fly on the jet with him, side by side for the entire eight hour journey. 

you were taken back by the sudden personal touches and longing looks from him. something has changed. over the past year he’s had a few girlfriends, none of them serious so he’s told you, and you believed him. your blind affliction to nod your head and whisper okay was the only way you found that you could truly protect yourself. ignorance is bliss, or whatever the poets say. 

with your legs crossed the entire flight and eyes peering from the window, you never once felt lando’s eyes drilling into your face. though he was entirely enamored by your bravery, your understanding how important this was to him. 

you may be the only one to truly understand his passion. as he began to understand yours. 

on your lap was a research journal translated from german. your professor had sent it over to you for your leave of absence, along with ideas for your masters thesis. she was a kind woman and you appreciated all the work she has done to support you. especially translate it from german. 

you tended when you felt lando spread his legs, knee bumping into your calf. but you didn’t shy away. 

“what’re you reading?” 

“do you really want to know?”

he didn’t hesitate. “why wouldn’t i?”

your chest tightened at his soft tone. you’d never get used to that, would you? when you were in such close proximity with him, he would become so gentle, caring. not that he wasn’t in public spaces but… what was the word you were looking for?

intimate

“after your season i fly to germany to finalize my thesis. i’m still struggling on a topic, but…” you flip back a few pages in the book which was messily annotated and sticky-noted. you stopped on the event horizon section. “this one caught my eye. always fascinated me.”

lando scanned the page. it wasn’t the words he was reading, but the marks you left behind. messily written notes in the margins, smeared ink, bright orange notes with rather… rushed drawings of a black hole, surrounded by streams of… “what is it?”

your eyes glimmered. lando wanted to take a picture of you then, turning from your corner of the window and towards him. your palms smacked the page as you excitedly explained the phenomenon in far too great detail for lando to really pay attention, but he was so engrossed in your intellect and pure passion that slipped past your lips. your sweet, honeyed lips—

“lando?”

“hmm?”

“what will it be like?”

“what?”

“all of it.” your fingers tended around the journal creasing the pages unbeknownst to you. 

lando reached over, not thinking rationally, and grabbed your hands. they were colder than his. he was always warm. so warm. a light gasp left your lips when you looked up at him. 

“i’ll give you some pointers. ready?”

you nodded. 

────────────

he kept a hand on you at all times. unhindered by any sudden movement, feigning to latch at the small divot of your back. you’d grow used to its presence as you scaled the tarmac, hopped into the passenger seat of the mclaren— opened by him— and glanced down at how his hand made claim to the skin of  your thigh the entire drive. 

he’s stressed. you’d tell yourself, not thinking anything more of it. because what else could it be?

────────────

the entire time you kept modesty in mind. you had pestered lando about your choice of attire, thinking specifically about the nature of your outfits. 

“i don’t want to be disrespectful.” you said sternly, looking between the stylist lando paid to dress you, and him. it was your debut at lando’s side and you were determined to make the right choice. you were never usually like this— cold and bullheaded, but he was growing to…enjoy it more than he should. 

you stood there tapping your foot with your arms crossed. you shrugged towards the outfits she provided you. you shook your head at a few and decided to ask. 

“what about orange?”

orange.

lando thought about falling to his knees for you right then and there. to see you sporting his team colors for him was a dream that he would never want to wake from. 

the stylist nodded, raking through the options. there was one that was made of silk, a dress that covered you to the ankles, to the forearms. an abaya it was called. if you were going to be representing lando, which he mentioned on the plane, then you were going to do it right. 

and you’ll be damned before you’re ever wrong. 

────────────

you certainly underestimated the crowds. 

with the season opening, you and lando had been swarmed upon your arrival. he warned you of this, but to which the gravity of it you greatly underestimated. 

your fists bawled at the material of the dress, clenching with unspoken anxiety. you were never much of a public person, but you’d be willing to find out if that were true or not today. 

“hey,” lando nudged your shoulder. you glanced at him with a light smile. “you got this.”

that comfort was enough alone to let you be pulled from the car. lando opened the door for you. immediately swarmed by flashing cameras and the devilish heat of the middle eastern sun. 

questions were thrown at him about you, who you were, and you’d let him do all the talking. 

you straightened your posture, gripped the handbag tightly, and kept a soft smile to your features. 

lando would stop on occasion to sign some memorabilia, which was a perfect time for you to observe. he was kind with the people who were such loyal fans to him. dressed in the mclaren jerseys, hats, he’d sign anything that was thrown his way. even some arms were thrown in his direction. 

it was endearing for you. watching him thrive in his element. your heart warmed at the sight. a new found affection blossoming in the pit of your stomach. 

a thump was heard on the ground before you. you turned, glancing back at lando who kept moving forward. it was a mclaren hat dropped by a teenage girl wrapped in a similar garment to yourself. you traipsed over, crouching down to pick it up, and hand it back to her. 

“here,” you offered in a sweet tone. your smile was brighter. the girl was clearly elated, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

“are you and lando dating?” came a question from the girl beside her. she was earned a slap to the shoulder, being called rude.

you laughed lightly, shaking your head. “no, no, friends from home is all.”

you saw a phone held up, recording the interaction. but it didn’t scare you. why would it?

“do you want to wrap your hijab? it’ll fly loose in the wind…” the girl asked nervously, placing the mclaren hat on her covered head. you were taken back for a moment, glancing down at the rather lazy job of the stylist, and took intent note that it was rather windy today. it would be hard for you to maintain it by yourself. 

“you would do that for me?” you took a step closer to the barricade, which had lando snapping his head over his shoulder to wonder where you went. 

he ogled, watching as a young girl began tying the ends of the scarf in an intricate, skilled manner around your collarbones, your neck. his eyes were caught on the smile you graced, the laugh that left your lips. it was such a delicious sound, intoxicating, one that he wished to drown in. if that were his fate, he’d gladly accept it. 

his staring was noticed, fans beginning to call his name louder. he swallowed, hands flexing at his side before he signed a few more hats and posters. 

────────────

what you didn’t expect was the way that lando looked in his fire guard suit. the black emblems that contrasted his tan skin, bolstered the tone of his muscles. there was barely anything left up for the imagination as you brought the tip of your finger to your mouth, crossing your legs on the orange couch. you couldn’t seem to sit still. 

“you alright?” he asked out of concern, but you didn’t miss the slight curve of his mouth. he knew what you were thinking.  you were always so responsive to him, so good, even when there were no words transpired. 

“peachy!” you confirmed, sitting back against the couch, your leg bouncing as you tried not to let your eyes meddle on the muscles of his neck, the veins in his hands, the bracelets that dangled from his wrists. 

he gave you a look of doubt before his teammate walked in with a girl at his side. oscar, you remembered. you had met before briefly at a press conference you attended in monaco. the girl beside him was his girlfriend— she was entirely too sweet and studied a similar focus as you did. 

the two mclaren drivers patted each other on the back, while the woman approached you. she sat beside you with a tick of picking at her fingernails.

your hand found its way on top of hers. “first time, too?” 

she nodded and introduced herself formally. you did the same. you laced your fingers with hers, stopping the habit from ruining her lovely nailbeds. 

lando watched the interaction from over oscar’s shoulder, a cheeky smile etching onto his face. oscar caught wind of his inattention, and glanced over his own shoulder briefly. 

he turned back to lando with a toothy grin. “i’ve been trying to get her to stop that habit.”

because within the matter of minutes you were both talking, not once did his girlfriend raise her fingers to her mouth. 

────────────

you pulled and fixed at the collar of his race suit. lando sucked in a low, tight breath. you missed the sound, focused on making sure he looks presentable for the national anthem. it would be any minute he’d climb into the car to do a practice lap. 

when you were satisfied with the result, you dusted off the top of his head and was going to let your hand fall to your side. but there was a stain of soot on his chin. 

without thinking twice, you grabbed his chin between your fingers. his eyes went wide at the action. his fists clenched at his side, body rigid with the feeling of your unexpected touch. 

you licked your thumb before wiping it away, his stubble rough against your fingers. his head crooned visibly into the shape of your hand. the warmth from his cheek getting slightly hotter. heat rushed to your own face, flushing you in your orange dress. 

whatever moment was transpiring between the two of you, you didn’t want it to end. neither did he. his breathing softened, but his heart was pounding. your thumb swirled over his cheek once before you gripped him tighter. 

“you got this, lan.”

there was the first time you graced him with that nickname. the rest was history for him, knowing that he was a dead man walking at your side. if you weren’t going to be his, he would ruin you. such sickening thoughts had him mulling over what you meant to him. you made time out of your busy schedule for him, and so did he. you were there to answer his calls. he was there to be at your beckon and call. he would wreck his entire career if it meant your undivided attention. 

he would pivot, skid, take more reckless actions on the track if it meant having your hands on him. your eyes. your love. he wanted it all with you, he learned, from that first weekend in jeddah. with your communally wrapped headscarf, caring nature, your determination… he wanted it to be his. he wanted you to flourish with him. he wanted to be the reason you blossom. 

with your unwavering strength at his side, he could conquer the world. fuck the championship, he wanted it all to be with you. maddening thoughts would consume him day and night after that first weekend, knowing there was only more to come throughout the season. he could only imagine how these months would fare, but he didn’t bide into fantasies. he would expect the unexpected and let you consume him entirely. 

────────────

miami was everything you thought it to be. bustling with life, parties, music. it was a stark contrast to what your life at university looked like— though you didn’t mind the occasional outing, of course, especially when lando was at your side. 

he was a beam of light crafted by the gods of the sun, brightening every room he stepped in. he was utterly magnetic, drawing others around him, letting them have a joyous laugh. it made you giddy, proud, that he could hold himself so well in the mediocrity of the crowds. while you etched yourself at his side, clamoring for his shadow, he held you tightly at every opportunity. 

his hand at your back, clutching for dear life. warm and soothing, you’d lean into him, clutching the hem of his black mclaren shirt. 

it had been a friday night. his free practices had been stellar as you watched eagerly from the mclaren paddock. you’d earned a status of earning a headset, your consistent attendance rivaling tidal waves in the media. you always told yourself not to look, not to peek, but you couldn’t help it. 

accounts were created in your honor. in your fan name. the mclaren fans loved you, and you loved them. the video of your first appearance at the paddock had gone viral within the community. your sensibility for adhering to culture norms gained you rapport. though you didn’t know why— why wouldn’t you dress appropriately? it grudged you how low the media could stoop, but you were honored nonetheless to gain such positive attention. 

of course there were the negatives. some were born to hate and you could live with that. many thought you were using lando for his money, just another stupid girl who didn’t deserve to be at these races. you kept yourself modest from the media with a private account, similar to charles girlfriend, and found that it was better to remain a mystery to those who weren’t a part of your life. you owed them nothing. 

though you never breathed these negatives to lando. he would be furious and absolutely say something in public. the last thing you wanted was for him to fight your own battles, yet you thought this nothing to be more of a playground spat. you could handle it; lando doesn’t call you sting for no reason. 

on the bright side, you had a steady, growing relationship with oscar’s girlfriend, and even considered each other to be best friends. 

though lando would disagree ardently, reminding you that he was always first, no matter the circumstance. he’d whine like a child and pout. how could you resist that face? even when you would playfully hold up four fingers and raise your brows, his number four, contrary to one, he’d scoff and laugh, your ability to see through him was astonishing. 

at the club tonight there were bottles and bottles of champagne being opened and passed around in the driver's honor. in your time there you had grown close to all drivers, except a few give or take. but while you carved relationships with the boys, it was the women you sought refuge in. 

charles' girlfriend, a tanned brunette sweetheart, would bake for you. in return you would host wine nights with the other women. you’d become accompanied with her new furry companion, little leo leclerc, and you fell in love with him instantly. his little licks of appreciation, his tiny wagging tail. gosh, you loved the pup. 

carlos’ partner, rebecca, had intimidated you at the beginning. she was tall, fierce, blue eyes unwavering with confidence as she spoke of deep experience throughout her years in the paddock. it took her longer to adjust to your presence, feeling doubtful of your friendship with the british driver, but changed her mind when she saw you dehumidifying lando’s race suit that hung in the tents in japan’s humid weather. 

no one stood around you whilst you did that. no one asked you to. you did it because it was ruthlessly hot and you didn’t want lando to contract a heatstroke. 

lily held a place in your heart that none of these girls could truly replace. she was your rock from the first race. you both learned together, wrought each other of the nail biting habits, and laughed amongst the radio calls between the pair of drivers. 

the rap music thundered the floor you stood on. heels tall and encompassing, you’d admit plainly you got used to the treatment lando awarded you. nothing but the best, he told you one evening under the moonlight. the words were imprinted in your mind. 

alexandra, charles’ sweetheart, called your name. 

lando’s grip tensed at your back. you could feel it. you glanced at him, then to alexandra. 

“come dance~!” she swayed, floreale spritz in her hand. she egged you forward with her hand, and you loosened yourself from lando’s side. 

you had no obligation to stay by him. it’s not like you were dating.

though many would disagree with that. 

you mumbled something incomprehensible to lando. he bent his head down towards your mouth, angling his ear to hear your voice. 

“will i see you on the dance floor tonight, mr. norris?” you teased, body warm from the cocktail you downed. his head turned, a signature smirk daunting his face. 

“want me to?” he said, bringing his lips dangerously close to your ear. you shivered, his breath hot and wet as it graced the curves of your cheeks. 

“only if his highness can make time,” you looked up at him through your weary, drunken eyes. something shifted, then, as you stared up at his green eyes. it was dark in the club, but not as dark as his stare. it intimidated you, but not nearly as much as it intrigued you. 

“always make time for you baby,” he said, tone playful and airy but it was more than that for you. baby. he was just drunk, wasn’t he? he didn’t know what he was talking about. didn’t know he was talking to you. don’t let it get to your head. “just tell me when. think charles is dying to dance.”

you looked over your shoulder to see charles being teased by sweet alexandra as she shook her head, pointing at you. this was a girls dance, that told you. 

before you turned, your hand cupped lando’s neck. he grumbled; you felt it through your palm. it was a nonverbal okay. you spun, threading yourself out of lando’s grasp. he let his hand linger for as long as he could before you slipped away, the imprint of his hand leaving you bare and cold. 

it was quickly replaced by the rambunctious action on the dance floor. lit up with multicolored tiles, alexandra grabbed your hand and raised them above your heads, swaying to the heat of the music. 

she was a natural beauty. no wonder charles fell in love with her. 

you mimicked her dance moves to the best of your ability, hands sliding down your waist, through your scalp and over your head. 

alexandra laughed and sashayed, giddy with fun and life. you did the same, unable to withstand her pulsing vibrato. you twirled her around you, she did the same. heads turned at your giggles, a few grunts of laughs had you looking over your shoulder. 

the men of the club began to swarm. but in the moment, you didn’t care. let them gawk if they so wish. you felt untouchable. 

your body slid parallel to alexandra, hips gyrating with an orbit of its own cosmic makeup. she grabbed onto your waist pulling you close when you rocked from side to side. your hands slid up your neck, down your chest— exposed from the evening gown you chose for the evening festivities. 

the swarm intensified. one man attempted to twirl in front of you and alexandra, reaching to touch your forearm, but that’s where the line was drawn. 

a body pushed itself between you and the man, alexandra standing up straight behind you. you recognized him instantly— signature smell bringing you an insatiable comfort that soothed your soul. 

lando stood before you, face close to yours. he didn’t look pissed off…just…cocky?

before alexandra peeled away, you tilted your head back to her shoulder. she whispered, “needy, needy, needy…”

charles whisked her away for a dance. you didn’t get to respond. there wasn’t much for you to say though, watching how happy alexandra became when charles wrapped his arms around her. you felt sour. what was this feeling? 

“you didn’t ask me,” he said into your ear, bringing your attention back to him. little to your knowledge he watched as you glanced between the happy ferrari couple, your face scrunching and hand coming to cover your lips. 

you gave him a quizzical look. 

“to dance!” he laughed, big and goofy. but there was an edge to his tone. was he peeved? did he think that you forgot about him?

“wanted you to come get me.” you slurred, lifting your arms to throw them over his muscled shoulders. when you were met with a hard surface. your eyes bulged at just how big he’s gotten this year alone. it made you want to touch him more, explore his body behind the polo mclaren shirt. 

he raised his brows at you. “yeah?”

you pursed your lips together, letting your eyes flutter. “wanted you to hunt me down, little lando.”

his hands fell to your hips, fingertips functioning your skin. his demeanor shifted. your words igniting such a vicious flame inside his heart that burned for you and you alone. you were practically fucking edging him with your words. he wished it was the other way around. how insatiable your screams could be, the little noises you’d make. 

you warmed even more when his head dove into your neck, lips parting so you could feel his tongue. “‘ve already got you.”

“do you?” you challenge. lando loves a good challenge. 

he tucked you against his body, saying nothing more. 

“dance with me.” it wasn’t a question. but a statement. 

rolling your eyes, annoyed that he didn’t answer you, you pivoted on your heel. your back against his abdomen. you’d surely regret this on the morrow, but that was a problem for then. now, you only felt sturdy as you leaned your weight into lando. he supported you with ease. 

dancing with him was always the easy part. he knew how to move his body, sway his hips, and lure any girl into the trap of his toned and tanned arms. but it was never you up until now. you’d always dance with the other drivers, girls, friends, but never him. it was something far too intimate for you, but you weren’t sure how lando thought about it. 

but your friends noticed. 

rebecca snuck up behind alexandra, carlos at her arm. 

“look at him,” she gestured to lando who was entirely smitten with your let-loose expression. his hands were tight around your hips, legs spread to cage you against him. a fortress came with the name lando norris, and you were his queen. 

“entirely in love.” rebecca concluded, and alexandra agreed with a nod. 

“you should talk to her.” charles suggested, clearly feeling the pain his friend was going through, yearning at a distance. 

“and say what, char?” alexandra asked her partner. “do you love him like he loves you?”

“is that a bad idea?” charles retorted and was met with silence between the two girls. 

“we’ll figure something out.”

against your bodice, you felt the hard imprint of his dick blistering against his jeans. but it didn’t frighten you, not like his touches used to. your tour of the grand prix’s continued your closeness amongst one another, so…

your hips continued to sway, egged on by how lando ran his arms up your waist. it felt good–his hands, the tension woven into them. he felt good. 

you turned around to face him, letting your hands wrap around his neck. he looked euphoric beneath the dim lighting, rbg hues collectively making him look like he was glowing. he was, in truth, because of you. always because of you. 

the two of you were making eye contact now. not just any, but you thought it was the most intense of your life. his eyes rimmed with red, exhaustion you thought, and you suddenly felt guilty for keeping him out for so long. it’s not like you weren’t tired yourself. 

you raised your head to his ears. “we should go.”

he narrowed his eyes, looking disappointed that the festivities were ending so soon. “you want to?”

your head nodded. one hand came down to brush against his hand, taking it between yours. “tired.” 

the alcohol had taken its course through you. head pounding with a soft thump, you clasped your hand with lando’s. he returned the same force, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. he didn’t hesitate when you said you were tired. that was that for him. he had no other reason to stay.

“just wanna say bye to them,” you said, making your way over to rebecca and alexandra. they turned to you when you had lando in tow, entirely at your whims. 

“we’re meeting tomorrow?” you confirmed. both girls nodded, a shared glance between them making you feel uneasy. alexandra told you to come to ferrari’s paddock. you’d nod your head before they both raised their brows at each other again, sheepish smiles flashing in your direction. 

“what?” you prodded. they smiled at you again. 

“nothing. we just can’t wait for tomorrow.” rebecca soothed your concerns, though it didn’t prevail as much as you hoped. 

“that was weird.” lando said into your ear when you were close to the exit. 

“right?” you were glad he noticed. he always noticed these things. too observant for his own good. 

before you stepped foot out of the club, you turned back when you felt a thump. like a body had fallen to the ground. you stopped in your tracks. 

the man that grabbed your arm laid face flat on the ground. lando looked down at you, looking smug. though he didn’t hit him.

“must’ve tripped.” he shrugged. 

“should watch where he’s going.” you said, knowing that he didn’t just trip.

“guess so.”

────────────

saturday afternoon you were standing beside rebecca and alexandra when qualifying started. you wore a casually chic outfit. pants, a shirt, matching accessories. the stylist lando hired was getting to know you better. she understood what patterns you liked, your sense of aesthetic. it felt like a homecoming. 

“so,” alexandra crossed her legs as all three of you sat on the couch. “what happened with lando last night?”

you were taken back. “what do you mean?”

they exchanged a look. 

“you left together!” rebecca held up her hands as if pointing out the obvious. she was, really. 

“so…?” 

“so…! he went back to your room?” alexandra pleaded in wanting to know details. details of an extravagant night that didn’t happen. 

“we share a hotel room,” they gasped. your hands thrown up in defense. “not like that! he gets two bedrooms for us.” 

the girls settled, not looking entirely pleased. 

“besides,” you sighed. “we’re friends. he doesn’t see me like that.”

so confident

alexandra and rebecca burst out in a laugh. “are you serious?” alexandra wondered. 

you bristled, brow raised, wondering what she meant. “yes…?”

rebecca sighed your name, “have you seen the way he looks at you–?”

“or how he follows you around like a puppy.”

“how he pays for everything for you.”

“oh! how he scares any man off who tries to talk to you.”

your mind went numb. is this true? you thought lando was like that with everyone– kind, considerate, conscious. but as you sat there considering their words, just wondering how much truth was attached to them. 

“are…are you sure?” you hesitated about finding the answer. what would that mean for you? 

“absolutely.”

“one hundred percent.” they said at the same time. so this is what they wanted to talk about.

shit. maybe you were blind. it had gotten tempestuous over the course of these last few months. his growing attentiveness, his softness, his eager eyes whenever you’d make him coffee in the morning. no one makes it as good as you, he’d say. 

would it be so bad that you…weren’t upset with it? you loved being friends with lando. he was always there to listen to you, support you. he cherished your time together. but what if there was a slim chance that you were wrong? that you were in over your head? 

the last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed. 

“what do i do?”

the ferrari girlfriends exchanged looks. 

────────────

lando qualified in fifth for the miami grand prix. you thought he did absolutely wonderful. it was a close quali, he was pushing his car to its limits, but it wasn’t enough in the final stretch. a sigh left you as you were watching the tv, lily at your side. 

oscar placed just below lando at sixth. “i don’t get it,” you said.

lily looked at you, confused. 

“they should be faster. mathematically, i mean.”

lily was an engineering graduate. the question you brought forth had her perking up. you could see the cogs turning in her head. 

“the physical body of the car offsets it.” she tapped her thumb against her elbow, arms crossed. she raised a hand to bite at her thumb, but you stopped her. 

“you’re right. i don’t know–” you just had a weird feeling about this race. about lando. what rebecca and alexandra said…”lily.”

“yeah?”

“do…” you took a light breath in, suddenly intimidated by the answer you could receive. “do you think lando is in love with me?

a beat of silence.

“without a doubt.”

the mclaren plated with number four rolled into the garage. lando jumped out, taking off the neck guard, then his helmet. his hair had gotten longer this month. curls were starting to frame over his forehead. his stubble was more prominent. he was tanner. had his jawline always been that sharp?

he patted his engineer on the back but was looking for something. his eyes were darting all around the room, concern beginning to encompass his face. until he found you and lily, you, in the corner with her. you looked absolutely beautiful today. you had been worried about your outfit, wondering if the colors were too contrasting, or if they washed you out. 

lando didn’t think there was any color that could wash out the beauty of your skin. you were too bright for that, always glowing.

when you saw him, you beamed. but it was different this time. the way he looks at you. how is he looking at me?

he took a few steps forward before you met him half way. your fingers found the zipper to his jumper, the action was new for you and lando. he welcomed it, looking down at you with a smile. 

“you did amazing.” you breathed, undoing the zipper. though you couldn’t reach his eyes with your own. your hand shook against the zipper. he noticed, face falling with a slight frown. 

“are you alright?” 

“perfect,” you answered a bit too quickly. you still haven’t looked at him. you went to turn away, but he grabbed your elbow with a light grip. 

“hey, look at me.” he pleaded, voice entirely too soft and gentle for your state right now. the way he follows you around like a puppy. but why did you blush? why did you fiddle with your fingers, bite your lip? 

you looked up into those lovely pools of green. they shimmered so elegantly. your breath caught in your throat. 

“what happened? did–”

“do you want dinner tonight?” you blurted, suddenly feeling stupid and small. you kept shrinking with each passing second that he didn’t answer. little did you know, he felt like the earth was flipped on his head. was he dreaming? did you ask to have dinner with him? surely you just meant with all of your friends…

“we always have dinner,” he said with a light laugh. you felt shivers creep up your arms. Goosebumps.

“me. just you and me.”

“oh.” oh? that’s all that lando could say? yes. that was it. his brain was short circuiting, unsure of what you were inferring. was there a deeper meaning to this? was he thinking too hard? you’ve gotten dinner just the two of you before. but not in a long time. 

he was absolutely speechless as he looked at you, heart racing in his chest. It was just about to pop out when you opened your mouth to retract your statement and apologize. 

“what’s the dress code?” he bit his lip to hold back his childlike grin. 

“fancy.” you snipped back, feeling entirely too giddy that he seemed to come alive once again. you thought he would reject the idea, a part of you hoped that he did– silly, right? but you were terrified of confrontation. confrontation that rebecca and alexandra could be right. 

“fancy?” he said, taking a step closer to you.

“did i stutter?” your tone was playful as you raised your brows. his tongue got caught on his teeth as he pursed his lips. 

“wanted to make sure i get to see you in a dress.” the comment slipped from his lips easily, suavely. you blushed again. he noticed, surely. it was a rare occurrence that you blushed, even rarer for him to be the reason. what was this feeling in his chest? pride? pride that he could be the one to make you bashful. he felt like a king, wanting to conquer the skirts of your heart. 

“maybe i’ll let you pick it out.” 

lando’s face couldn’t light up any further. what did he do to award such treatment? such…such…god, he was entirely enamored with you. there was not a moment that went by that he didn’t wish you were his. he wanted this to be the norm. whatever it was. was it a date? was he supposed to hold your hand, kiss you? god, god, god, if he got to kiss you…

“deal.”

you were back in the hotel in an instant. the clock read 6pm, and you told lando no later than 7:30. both of you were in the kitchen filling up your bottles of water, cracking jokes between each other. when you were refreshed and relaxed, you spoke. 

“still picking my dress?” you lead him to the door to your room, opening it for him. he followed behind you without a second thought. his eyes weary, glossy. like he was about to cry or something. 

you stood at the doorway to the room. it was a chaotic mess of clothes, ruined sheets, open bottles of water. if lando noticed the state, he didn’t say anything. thank god. 

but he did

lando was keen on noticing every detail of how you lived. your habits. it was the only way he could figure out how your mind worked– the spectacular thing that it was. he turned his head over his shoulder to you, gesturing towards the closet. you nodded. 

he opened the door to the closet, dresses hanging by the dozens. damn, the stylist really put her money’s worth, didn’t she? rather his money, but if it meant for you to look jaw-droppingly stunning, who was he to complain? 

the british driver ran his fingers through the numerous dresses before him. different combinations of cotton, silk, satin. they all felt different at his fingertips, yet you would always be sweet to him. but something else caught his attention–

a lace bodice piece, lingerie, that hung low from a hanger. he waited a beat. another. he pulled it with both his hands, showing you the hanger with a curious, raised brow. 

you flushed.

never in your life did you run as fast as you just had. you tried to snatch the hanger from him, but he held it high above your head. he was laughing. 

“lando!” you screeched, trying to climb up his body to reach it. it only incited a more intense laugh from him. he hummed.

“what’s this for, then? hmm?” 

“i–” you stuttered, not really being able to know what to say. “she gave it to me!” the stylist.

his laugh quieted. “did she?”

“yes! if, you know, i dunno–” you rubbed your arms together anxiously. “if i ever met a guy. or something. it was stupid!”

you tried to get it back from him. he didn’t relent. you stomped your foot. 

“lan, please…” you whispered, looking up at him with his unreadable stare. lando was always the type to know how he felt through his eyes, but now…you didn’t know what you were looking at. 

“did you?”

“did i what?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“meet a guy?” 

you looked away, embarrassed. “no. not like i was trying, though.”

he relaxed, noticeably. 

keeping all these guys away from you…

“it was just a fun idea. now will you pick something? else i’ll change my mind.” you threaten him. he hung the lingerie piece back up, surrendering instantly. 

you headed to the on-suite bathroom, starting to get ready for your night out. though his tone echoed in your mind– “did you?” – he sounded…deflated. bested, by some indomitable force. you had a growing epiphany that the ferrari girls were right, and you were just too damn scared to admit that such a beautiful man could be interested in you of all people. 

lando knocked on the door frame, watching as you finished up your look. you glanced at him through the mirror, then turning to see the dress he held. it was a long, black dress with lace flowers embroidered into it. it even had sleeves, lace ones, that could keep you warm with the miami breeze. it got rather chilly when the sun went down. 

his choice was rather impressive. dare you say that you liked it. you grabbed the fabric piece from him, taking it off the hanger and leaving it on the counter. it was beautiful– must’ve cost a fucking fortune– breathtaking, though. 

did you even deserve to wear something so elegant? 

“gimme a sec,”  you said, shooing him out of the bathroom before you changed. the dress slipped on with ease, much to your shock. but its downside–the zipper. you tried for about three seconds to get it up in the back, but you gave up.

you opened the door. 

“lan?” you called for him, voice whimpering for his attention. he shifted from your bed, scrolling on his phone. he looked up immediately, eyes widening at the site before him. you were absolutely breathtaking. his hands twitched, desperate to touch you. 

and you weren’t opposed, you thought, given your insolence towards any patience you had for the zipper. ‘test the waters,’ is what alexandra had said to you when you asked her for advice. ‘see how he reacts.’ rebecca followed up. 

testing the waters

that’s what you were doing

you turned your back to him, shimmying out of the bathroom. “zip me?”

“yeah. yeah of course.” he launched to his feet. the dress was so low down the curve of your back. he wanted to trace your spine with his fingers. he was gentle with his touch, warm to the skin. you absentmindedly leaned into him, back arching. 

he zipped the piece with ease, letting his fingers trace the back of your neck. you shivered, goosebumps crawling up your shoulders. he felt them, quickly glancing at the side of your face to gauge your reaction. was he going crazy? your body was so receptive to him. it was addictive. 

you pulled away. his hands felt empty, your back felt cold. 

“thanks,” you smiled bashfully, unable to look him in the eyes. so fucking cute, he thought. “go get dressed, will you? i’m getting hungry.” 

lando bolted from the room, and you managed a short laugh to yourself. while you were alone, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. you still felt entirely undeserving of such a gown. 

you slipped on your shining black heels and had to adjust to their feeling. you were never good at walking in them, but this tour was a playground for you to learn how. you wanted to learn. you felt badass walking around like you had pointy claws. 

in your hands was a matching leather clutch, simple and handheld. you waited patiently for lando, though it took him barely no time at all to look so put together. 

you heard the clink of his loafers before he made himself known. turning around, you got a good look at the man you’ve gotten to know over these past few months. 

it was chilling the way your body electrified. heat pooled in your lower belly, tingling with lust. he was dressed in a black dress shirt, few buttons undone revealing his chains, with a black jacket and taupe pants. his loafers were black with a silver buckle at the center of each shoe. 

he was fiddling with the cufflinks at his jacket when he noticed you gawking at the shape of his abdomen, to his exposed neck. he didn’t want to say a word, afraid that it’d break your moment of admiration. that you would never look at him in such a…virtuous manner. 

but he could never control his tongue. 

“my eyes are up here, darling.” you snapped your head up, blushing. you crossed your legs over each other, leaning against the kitchen isle. 

darling

you were caught red handed. there’s no point in pretending. your blood burned hot in your veins, the petname coming as second nature from his lips. you wanted to hear it again. 

“didn’t know you cleaned up so well.” you pushed off of the isle with ease, waiting for him to join your side. “used to all the sweat and pajamas.” 

he tsked at you, sheepish at your witty remarks. he hoped that no matter what it would always be like this; you and him, full of banter and fun. 

“and you look…agreeable.” his smile was bright, mischievous. you pushed his arm away as he came to rest his hand on your lower back. “kidding!” 

he lowered his voice and connected your eyes with his. “you’re breathtaking.”

and for the first time, you believed him.

────────────

the restaurant he chose was more than you could imagine. with high ceilings, a valet, lights in the shape of mystical orbs strung together on the walls. the floors were made of marble, the tiling on the sidings were matte black. 

but lando didn’t give a fuck about the decorations. he was staring at you. you in your beautiful dress, carrying yourself so elegantly. you were born to fit into this life, whether or not you believe you deserve it. he would do anything to prove that you did. that you were worthy of every dime he spent. 

“right this way, madam.” the waiter ushered you, but you didn’t move until you held out your hand for lando to grab. you’ve never asked him to sober. 

he didn’t hesitate, never did, and latched onto your hand with a warming grip. you tugged him along through the restaurant while he kept getting distracted from you and how you walked so well in those high heeled shoes. he remembers a time when you couldn’t. and look at you now.

the waiter seated you at your two person table. lando pulled out the chair for you. you smiled appreciatively. 

“aren’t you the gentleman.” you acknowledged his kindness, his face brightening as he seated himself with ease. he pulled into the table, leaning over it. you did the same, eager to meet his face with a bashful smile and your hands rubbing together. 

lando looked nervous, but most of all happy. he is happy. to be sitting here with you, in your presence, and most of all, you wanted to be here with him. he didn’t miss how you leaned towards him, your legs crossing over one another as the point of one of your heels grazed his knee. 

“so tell me,” he picked up his water glass, taking a sip. you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed, the water running through him. you gulped. “why dinner?”

your hand touched the back of your neck. “‘m not allowed to want to spend time with you?”

“didn’t say that, did i?” he placed the glass down. “all this, i mean–” he gestured to your dress, his shirt, the restaurant. “you tryin’ to tell me something, darling?”

one of your fingers ran over your lip. darling. god, it sounded so good coming from him. it put you in such a state of heaven, feeling entirely weightless in his presence. you were staring at him speechless, before you heard a clatter of glass behind you. you were ripped from the safety of your trance. 

“maybe,” you muttered, looking away for him briefly before attempting to switch the topic. “anyways-”

“what was that?” he said languidly, the softness of his tone unrecognizable. his eyes were blown wide, taking in every subtle movement that you made. you felt like you were under a microscope being analyzed by his prerogative. you felt stripped bare– but that wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? no. no it wasn’t. the thought had you blushing. what weren’t you blushing about today?

“the race,” you continued on, disregarding his questioning. “are you nervous?”

he leaned back in his chair in defeat. fine, if she wanted to play it that way. he knew exactly what you said. but he wanted to hear it again. he will hear it again if it is the last thing he ever hears. you said “maybe” and didn’t brush him off with a scoff. his advances towards you had always been playful and light, but you never indulged him so…earnestly. he was caught off guard. in fact, he’s been caught off guard…a lot these past few days. something has shifted–

but what?

“am i supposed to be?” he wondered. you never really asked him those kinds of things. he always had your full reassurance. 

“no. it’ll be just like any other, won’t it?” you felt like you were talking out of your fucking ass. you, all of a sudden, didn’t know how to talk to your best friend. it was gibberish, dry, god, how the fuck did he put up with you beforehand? 

you began fidgeting with your fingers. his eyes latched on the movement. 

“are you nervous?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to look at him. you didn’t know he leaned in again until you felt his knees bump with yours. you jumped, but sunk into his light touch. 

“i dunno– no? no, why would i be nervous?” you continued fidgeting. “it’s just…it’s all so dangerous, isn’t it? i’ve done the math before. at your speed if–”

“hey.” he cut you off, grabbing both your hands. “hey.” he breathed, looking at you with his widened, sparkling green eyes. your hands were sweaty against his, a byproduct of your anxiety, but he didn’t seem to care when he brought them to his lips, gracing you with a sweet kiss on the top of your palms. 

your breath hitched in your throat. 

“didn’t know that you worried about me so much.” he gave you a light laugh, his eyes crinkling with a smile. he bit his lip. 

“what? of course i do,” you looked at him in disbelief, your hands still held in his. “i mean– why wouldn’t i? we’re friends, aren’t we?”

‘aren’t we?’ was branded into lando’s heart. he swallowed, pulling back and letting your hands fall to the table. “‘course we are.”

“you are both such a beautiful couple.” your waiter approached. you bristled, glanced quickly to lando, and an idea bloomed in your head. test the waters, the girls said. “what can i get for you lovebirds?”

lando sat up straight to correct him, but you stopped him. “you are too kind,” polite smile was gracing as you ran your fingers over the menu. “what are the specials?”

lando’s jaw dropped. he shut it before the flies flew in, but he wouldn’t forget this. no amount of alcohol or fantasies could recreate that feeling. this feeling. you glanced at him while you were ordering, puckering your lips. 

god, he wanted to kiss you. Ruin you. make you his.

dinner went smoothly despite a perpetuous tension lingering over the pair of you. you’ve never fiddled so much before with anything; your dress, napkin, glass. but you were still there with him, and he always knew the perfect way to make you laugh. you wanted to kiss him that night, beneath the glimmer of the moon, but you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t muster the courage to break the barrier. 

but you would, in time.

on your way out of the restaurant you were keen on grabbing his hand first. you felt him tense and he covered his mouth with his free hand, surely hiding a cheeky smile. 

the cameras were flashing when you came down the steps. you’d be trending on every social media platform, especially with how bright your smile was, and how tightly you gripped his hand. 

────────────

race mornings were always chaotic. but you somehow managed to make it to the track at the end of the f2 race with lando at your side. In the mclaren hospitality room, you straightened his collar of the fireguard, taking a deep inhale of his subtle cologne and natural scent. you felt dizzy, struck by the desire to run your hands over his chest. 

your touch lingered longer than it normally did. he noticed. what didn’t he notice?

especially after your stunt last night. he didn’t get a wink of sleep. he was up all night staring at his phone, watching the pictures light up his feed. he wasn’t embarrassed, shocked, nor ashamed. the british driver was entirely elated. with your graceful composure, assuredness in holding him at your side. 

he scrolled through the comments, too, but there was not one negative thing he could find. spare a few comments that he had to bite his tongue on responding to, you were gaining an overwhelming amount of support from his fans.

your fans.

there were accounts made in your honor. outfit accounts, update accounts, people with your face as their profile picture. he scrolled through every one of them. he was maddeningly obsessed. 

but what changed? why were you acting this way? not that he was upset by this change…but your inability to tell him…tell him what was going on frightened him. he felt anxious. 

“what’s going on with you?” he brought his face closer to yours, lowering his voice so no one else could hear the both of you. 

“nothing. it’s nothing.” your tone was hastened, weary. 

“it doesn’t sound like–” 

“we’re ready for you, lando.” his engineer interrupted the two of you with a polite smile. 

the british driver sighed. 

you placed your hands on his chest. “i’m fine.” though it did little to soothe his woes. 

he looked at you weary eyed, brows turnt upward with concern. he didn’t believe you. 

“i just…” your hand trailed up his neck, thumb caressing his bottom lip. he stayed perfectly still beneath your fingertips. “really want you to win.” 

you placed a soft kiss on his opposite cheek. 

“you got this, lan.” 

he kissed your thumb that was on his lips and said nothing else before he jumped into the mclaren.

────────────

you were on absolute edge the entire race. it was an uphill battle. you’ve never been seen so anxious with your headset on, tapping your feet anxiously against the concrete. arms crossed over your chest, it was down to the last few laps. lando had been hard running in first.

first. lando was in first. 

you could feel this in your blood. he was born for this.  

and when he crossed that fucking finish line, you’ve never felt so much joy in your entire life. 

he yipped and punched his fist in the air, his screams were pure music to your ears. 

his engineers came to pat you on the back, gauging your all too excited reaction. lily was at your side, too, jumping and giving you a hug. 

lando jumped from his parked car, ripping off his helmet and neck guard. he was on top of the fucking world when he jumped atop the crowd of mclaren workers, them holding him up with ease and chanting his name. 

you stood beside lily, hand covering your mouth to stifle your sobs. you couldn’t be more proud of him than in this moment. 

he caught your eye from above the crowd, watching the tears fall down your face. when he jumped off his celebratory pile, he ran over to you. 

you threw your arms around his neck, launching yourself against him. he caught you, he always would, and held you tight. he would never let you go. never. your tears wet the base of his neck.

“lando…” you said into his race suit that smelled of burnt rubber and sweat. you didn’t care. this was your lando. 

he pulled back, looking at you with concern. it was a characteristic look for him these past few days. 

but you wanted that to go away. 

you wanted nothing but his happiness. his joy. his passions. to see him on top of the world. but you wanted to be right there with him, side by side. 

your lips were on his before he blinked. he was taken back, surprised, and face dripping in sweat. your hands gripped around his muscular neck, tugging him to you. you wanted more. you wanted this. this over anything. him over anything. 

he returned your kiss when he was done pinching himself. your lips were entirely too sweet. luckily he had a sweet tooth. 

his hand cupped the back of your head, tilting you towards him for a better, deeper angle. you moaned into him as he sucked on your bottom lip, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. you were floating, floating in the world of lando norris. you never wished to return to the ground. 

but you did. the cheers around you got louder. you realized you would too if this kept up.

the new grand prix winner wasn’t finished, though, when his free hand gripped your hip. you stifled a giggle by smiling into his mouth, catching your breath. “lan,” you chuckled. 

“don’t tell me this is a dream.” he had tears swelling in his eyes, lips plump from your kiss. “i might just have to–”

you cupped his cheek. 

“real.” you assured him. “i’m real. this–” you brought his gloved hand to your heart. “is real.”

he bit his lip, though it did little to conceal his smile. 

“drink some champagne for me.”

he kissed you once more. a telltale we aren’t done. 

and you sure as hell weren’t. 

────────────

“don’t understand why we’re celebrating out there,” lando gestured to the door as you were putting your heels on in a hurry. “when we could be here.” he pulled you to him, your back flushed against his chest. you leaned into him, sighing. 

“because your friends want to celebrate,” you finished putting on your shoes. “me included.”

lando’s hand tightened around your waist. “you’re not my friend.”

your brows upturned when you spun around to face him. your expression was sickeningly innocent. “‘m not?” your hands landed on his chest, turning your head to the side with fluttering lashes. 

“absolute minx,” lando seethed with a hearty laugh, leaning in to kiss you. your noses brushed together, his lips coming to graze yours. but you smiled and pulled away from him before he could taste your lipstick. 

he made a move to pull you back to him by your elbow, but you gave him a look. “we’re going to your celebrations, lan. don’t care what you have t’say.”

he groaned, his head falling forward to your shoulder. your hands raked through his hair, down the back of his neck. he practically purred like a fucking kitten under your fingertips. 

“and as far as i know,” you kissed his temple. “we’re still friends. haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend, did you?” your hands curled in his hair, pulling him to meet your eye. he bit his lip, blushing!

“you’re blushing, baby!” you cooed, reaching to squeeze one of his cheeks. 

“can’t blame me,” he muttered, head darting back into the crook of your neck and leaving soft kisses down to your collarbones. “the most beautiful woman has her hands all over me…what am i supposed to do with m’self?” he chuckled and you felt his teeth against your sensitive skin. you sucked in a breath with a smile. 

“ask her,” you lowered your voice, whispering into him. “i’m sure she’ll say yes.”

“would she?” his head perked up, flushed and warm from your neck.

“in every universe, lan.”  your humorous tone turned serious. he gulped, adam’s apple bobbing when he felt the weight of your words. “you know that gravity is the only force that can travel through any dimension? any time, any place, it will be found.”

he was listening to you intensely, voice cracking as he spoke. “i would find you.” 

your eyes widened at him. 

“through any black hole, space phenomena, wormhole,” his breath fanned your cheeks. “i’ll always find you.”

you leaned in to kiss him. he met you halfway, swallowing your mouth with his. you let him push you up against the counter, your hand gripping the ledge so you didn’t tumble over. you opened your mouth and his tongue slipped in without hesitating. he explored the corners of your mouth, the shapes of your teeth, your own tongue. 

your moan was deep from your chest when you felt his hand start to slip up your thigh. his pinky scathing the fabric of your thin underwear. you gasped when he ran trailed over your cunt, already wet and swollen under his touch.

"all for me, baby?" he chuckled into your neck, soothing your cunt of its tumultuous ache.

you nodded, but that wasn't enough.

"words. need words."

"fuck. yes, lan, all for you." you moaned when he flexed a finger inside of you, the sweet burn was tender to your growing coil in your belly. but things just can't go smoothly, can they?

you were brought back to earth when your phone began to ring. fuck. 

you tried pushing lando off of you, but he grumbled against your lips. you smiled, but detached from him. “lan,” he shook his head, refusing to let you go. “lan, it’s probably everyone wondering where you are.”

“don’t care.”

“you should.” 

“don’t.” his mind didn’t change, finger still exploring you before you shook him off.

you kissed the tip of his nose. “we won’t stay for long, okay? besides…”

there was a sheepish look on your face. “i have a boyfriend to show off.” 

lando didn’t need to be told twice to get you swept off your feet and into his car. 

────────────

the entire drive there his hand was on your thigh, so high that he traced the lining of your black laced underwear with his pinky. you gripped his wrist tightly, but said nothing the entire ride there. 

when you pulled up, a valet man opened the door for you. you stepped out and were met with ten times the amount of flashing cameras that you were used to. you got this. with a straight posture and elegant– as elegant as you could muster– composure, you waited for lando to meet at your side. 

you weren’t disappointed when you felt his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowds. shouts were sent your way, his way; “lando! lando! is this your girlfriend? are you dating? what’s her name?”

he made sure to answer only one question with your nod of approval before he climbed the steps to the nightclub. 

“lando! is this your girlfriend?”

“yes,” he said with his charming nature, turning back to look at you, starstruck by your beauty. you smiled back at him, hand caressing his chest. the cameras went wild at your natural pose with each other. 

inside the club was much better. with a restricted guest list of close friends and family, you were at ease. when you entered you were met with all three of your closest girlfriends. lily, rebecca, and alexandra. they squealed when they saw you, sprinting in your direction leaving their boyfriends in distress by their absence. 

“congratulations, lando!” lily said upon her arrival first, then glancing to you. “and an even more congratulations is in order? are you fucking kidding me!” she said with utter glee. you leaned further into lando’s side if that was possible. he relaxed at your touch, hand loose at your hip. 

“i knew it.” rebecca said with certainty. 

“she really did,” alexandra confirmed. 

you rolled your eyes at the pair of them. 

“i’ll get us drinks, baby.” lando whispered into your ear, his nose jutting against your hair. he gave you a kiss to your head and departed from your side, meeting up with the guys, too. 

“tell us everything!” alexandra jumped up and down. 

“there’s not much to tell.” you shrugged, hands thrown up in defense. “i just thought about what you said. you were right. i was so, so blind.” wasted time was a fear of yours.

“we’re proud of you anyways. have you seen all the paparazzi for you?” rebecca opened her phone, scrolling endlessly through her timeline. “i fucking hate you. you look perfect in every one of them.” 

“oh please,” you brushed her off. “have you looked in a mirror, becca?” 

it was a stellar night. you found yourself on the dance floor shortly after with your favorite drink in your hand, per lando’s stellar memory of your order. 

without another moment longer, your hips were moving over lando’s on the dance floor, his hands loose on your hips as he ran them up and down your body. you decided you weren’t going to have more than one drink tonight, preferring to remember every moment of this celebration.

the song was a bumping rap tune, easy to follow along with your suave moves. “suave,” you were just letting loose against your now boyfriend. the word was still foreign to you, but you felt increasingly giddy at the mention. 

lando, though? he was a changed man. not only did your kiss bring him ultimate luck before his race, he now has you at his side. he’ll do anything to keep you there. fuck, how did he get so lucky? he had a feeling something was going on, but never would he think it would be your lips on his after his race. he can still taste your tears.

you cried for him the entire time he was up on that podium, absolutely relishing in the national anthem played in his honor. and he could only keep his eyes on you. your glittering, magnificent eyes that sparkled beneath the miami sun. they sparkled for him, only him, on this marvelous day. 

and he would let everyone know that you shined for him. that you were his. while he may have won his first race, you were better than any trophy he could ever get. 

eventually, everyone raised their glasses for lando and cheer’s to his victory. you held your glass high, downing the entire thing. he did the same, only keeping to a few so he could see you as clear as day. he felt the same way…he never wanted to forget a moment with you. 

you faced him now, body still swaying to the music. with your chest brushing against his, you felt a growing heat over your neck. as the night went on, the sweatier lando became. the more his tanned skin glowed beneath the hue of the lights. the more his cologne pumped through your nose. it was impossible to not be intoxicated by him, drunk on his affection. 

with your hands gripping his neck, you looked up to him through your hooded eyes, a look that he wished he could take a fucking picture of. 

“what?” he said into your ear. 

you only shifted closer into him if that was possible. 

“need me, baby?” he chuckled low and wicked. you shifted on your feet, tightening your legs together. you almost did before lando stuck his leg out, having you tightened around him.

you nodded rapidly into his neck, clutching the fabric of his shirt. it was an appropriate time to leave, too, given that many have already bid their goodbyes. lando was only sticking around for you, after all. “please,” you whimpered into his ear, mouth wetting the skin beneath his chin. 

“fuck.” he cursed, maneuvering your body towards the exit with ease. his hands felt so good around you. you wanted them everywhere all the time. 

you bid your farewells to your friends with haste, feeling a slight guilt for leaving so…suddenly.

but lando didn’t. 

the drive back to the hotel took no time at all, lando blowing through every fucking stop sign and light that came in his direction. his hand was firm on your thigh this time, white knuckling the steering wheel. you stared at him, his side profile. he was too irresistible like this–needy, urgent– so you leaned over to kiss the side of his face, down his neck with sensual, puckering kisses.

he leaned his head back, giving you access to his thick neck. you had no idea how he kept focus on the road, but you had full faith in him to get back unscathed. 

“i know, baby,” he sighed, low and deep. “almost there.”

pulling into the valet, you opened the door yourself. lando threw the keys up in the air to the doorman and proceeded to rush you through the lobby. you couldn’t contain your giggles when he kept pressing the elevator button over and over. 

“that doesn’t make it any faster, you know.” you commented, your own foot tapping against the cool marble of the ground. 

“i’ll show you fast, baby, watch your mouth.” chills ran up your spine. your legs clenched together again and you couldn’t meet his eye. 

bastard. 

when the elevator opened, you shuffled inside and he had you against the wall before you could catch your breath. his lips attacked yours, moving down to your jawline, peppering your neck with slower, intense kisses. you moaned, biting your lip to conceal the sound the best you could. 

he moved to your chest, your collarbones being the first to be victim of his biting kiss. he would bruise the skin atop your breasts, marks for only him to gawk at. it looks like you won’t be getting any miami sun any time soon. or ever if his swirling tuck keeps suckling against your skin. 

“fuck, lan.” you whimpered, looking down at him below you, hands cupping his neck in place. he would happily be imprisoned by you like this. he would never go hungry. 

he groaned at your breathless response, adhering heavily to his actions as he didn’t miss an inch of your skin with his sloppy kisses. you pulled at the curly hair of his scalp that had his eyes rolling back into his head. you watched the delectable sight, your panties becoming increasingly damp as the seconds rolled by. 

the doors to your floor opened. lando didn’t move for a moment. you pulled his head back from his devouring of your skin. “you’re fucking me in your bed or not at all.” 

“you’re the death of me, darling.”

you were swept across the floors of your hotel, lando fumbling with the key to the room anxiously. you kissed up his neck in anticipation until the door clicked open and you were practically tossed inside. he slammed the door shut, throwing the “do not disturb” sign on the handle. not a soul would bust in on the two of you. 

you were ripping off your heels and throwing them across the floor before you were latched onto him again. but it didn’t last long until you wanted more. you weren’t going to fuck him in this kitchen, either. you were going to do it right, despite your hazy mind and actions. 

lando chased after you like a mad man. you squealed running through the hotel room on your tip toes until you burst open the door to his place. the bed sheets were ruffled, clothes on the floor, and it smelled like him. you bit back a moan at the sight, lando’s chest meet your back.

his lips were back on your neck, your shoulders. he tore through the fabric of your dress, undoing the zipper with methodical fingers. the gown fell to the floor, leaving your chest bare and your panties thin and otherworldly. 

you were ethereal. 

there wasn’t an ounce of shame inside of you when you spun around to face him. his hands were running up and down your bare skin, feeling how soft you were. a cuss fell verbosely from his lips, like honey. 

you backed away from him with an enticing look, swaying your hips before you fell backward on his bed, hands threading over your head. a palm came down to trace down your sternum, your lower belly, the hem of your dampened panties. 

lando watched you through his darkened eyes, almost black with desire. black holes. they sucked up the light around them, absorbing it without second thought. you wanted nothing more than to be absorbed by him. wholly. 

he stalked towards you like a hunter, back straight with his lip caught between his teeth. he wanted to ravage you right here– tear the underwear from your hips, fuck you into another dimension, but he would resist. all he wanted was to savor this moment, this vision, of you laying out before him, bare and vulnerable. all for him. you trusted him with your intimacy, your touches. he’d do nothing more to keep you like this. 

the british driver stood over you, your legs coming to squeeze together until his knee shoved its way through. your thighs dangled over the edge of the bed, burning with the scorching heat of your core. 

one of his fingers came down to run over your chest, your nipples, your abdomen. you squirmed at his teasing touch, feeling everything and absolutely nothing at once. you mewled deep within your throat, begging for more. 

he stopped at the band of your underwear, latching the same finger beneath it and drawing his hand back. the fabric peeled away with ease, your cunt glistening at his will. he noticed, of course, nostrils flaring with a tense angst of lust. no woman had looked as beautifully sinful as you have. you were a blessing and a curse– the most angelic devil he’s ever met. 

“beautiful,” he cooed, trailing two fingers over the crease of your thighs, over the lips of your pussy. you whined again, shifting your hips to get him to touch you where you needed him. badly. he tsked, at your impatience. 

it took him all of a second to launch atop of you, his turn to cage you in with his toned arms. you watched as his veins pulsed, blood running viciously hot through his body. it had you glancing down at the outline of his cock through his pants, the indent firm and mesmerizing. 

you salivated, a string of drool leaking from your mouth. he wiped it away with his thumb and a chuckle, looking at you from his elevated position above you. “soon, sweet girl.”

that was enough for you right now. his lips attached to your chest once more, spots already swollen and bruising with his previous attack. he moved to your breasts, cupping them in his palms, kneading the flesh. it felt heavenly to be beneath him like this– you never thought you could be so vulnerable with a man like this before. 

the british driver’s mouth moved to your opposing nipple, latching onto it with his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. you whined, mouth opening for a loud gasp at the curdling sensation. you felt that feeling in your lower belly, a white hot coil that was desperate to snap. 

you were so soft beneath his touch. he could mold you, bruise you for his own gawking at a later date. and you wanted him to. you were his and he was yours. nothing could change that now. 

he moved to the other breast, not daring to neglect any part of you. it was euphoric how delectable this was. you’ve never been touched so intimately. no one has cared this much about your pleasure. but to lando, it was everything. 

his gospel was on your pleasures. 

“lan, lan please,” you whimpered, squirming beneath him when he wasn’t between your thighs yet. “need you so bad.” 

“i know baby,” he said into the skin of your belly. you felt his smirk. he kept trailing down and down. “so pretty,” he sighed, coming face to face with your folds, swollen and beating for his touch. 

 you clenched around nothing, and the desperation has never been so poignant. 

and then his tongue was on you, spreading you wide. you gasped, so responsive to his touch, and grappled onto the curly strands of his hair. he was deliberate with his touches, fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs. his tongue drilled into you, curling upward that had you biting back your moans. despite your efforts, it was a failure. you were slack jawed and squirming beneath him. his grip tightened around your thighs in response, surely bruising the skin. 

he tongued every corner of your pussy, swiping over your clit once that had you jolting upward. he memorized the spot, stimulating you to the point where the coil began to itch to snap. 

there was no hope for you when he was getting impatient and added a finger to rub circles on your clit, his tongue continuing to thrust in and out of you. pleasure would build and build, rising to an ultimate bliss when he found that sparkler inside of you. 

at the angle he caressed with his tongue, you bucked your hips into him further. you felt him chuckle into you, his throat vibrating with such a cocky sound. he found a spot that made you fucking tick and you were entirely at his disposal. 

he abused the motion of his fingers, the assault of his tongue. you felt entirely undone by him, progressively getting tighter and tighter at his motions. “come on, baby…” he spoke into you. you couldn’t help the uncontrollable arch of your back. “you’ll be a good girl and come for me, won’t you?”

yes, yes! your mind shouted, fingers hanging onto his hair for dear life. you moaned, soaking further with his words of encouragement, eyes rolling back into your head. ‘course you needed him to talk you through it. how silly of lando with such an oversight. “so good, lan…”

“i’ve got you,” he uttered. “fuck baby, so pretty f’me. come on now,” and you needed nothing more than his sweet praise brushing past your ears to have the coil inside of you snap. 

you saw stars as you came on his tongue, sweet nectar filling his mouth with a gulp. he kissed every part of you, cleaning you with his tongue. you watched, weary eyed, amazed by how hot the action was. your pussy clenched. he felt it. glancing up at you from his position on his knees. 

“taste so good, sweet girl.” he cleaned up the excess from your plump folds with two fingers, bringing them towards your mouth. 

you opened your mouth on cue, his eyes widening with awe. you were fucking perfect. lips latching onto his plush fingers, you sucked them clean amply. you’ve never done such an act before, but it felt…natural. his dick was painfully hard in his pants, almost cumming at the sight of your lust filled eyes.

“my perfect girl…” 

you whined, sitting up on your elbows and clenching your hand to etch him closer. he listened on command, climbing to you. it was his shirt, pants, socks, shoes, everything that was on him that bothered you. 

fingers coming to yank at the hem of his shirt, he swiftly understood your nonverbal wishes. he tore his shirt over his head, throwing it to the corner of the room, and you fiddled with the belt of his jeans. your fingers worked fast and anxiously, throwing the damn belt across the room with a slap. he gripped your chin with a laugh as he loomed above you. 

“want you,” you demanded of him in your sweet, cracked voice. he wouldn’t make you beg this time, pulling his garments down with a swift motion. his cock sprung free and up towards the skin of his lower stomach. you flushed. precum was seeping from his tip, dripping onto your thighs. fuck, you whimpered under your breath. 

he didn’t settle for a grace period to settle from your orgasm. he wasn’t nearly finished with you. his hand came to cup the side of your face, your lips finding the skin of his palm. wet kisses covered the surface. he groaned. “you got me baby. relax for me, yeah?” 

you nodded eagerly, unable to speak as you wiggled your hips from side to side. he bent over and continued to kiss gingerly down your neck, his tip teasing your swollen cunt. you gasped into him, pulling him close to you. he grumbled, finding this angle inadequate. soon enough your legs were over his shoulders with one swift movement. 

lando dipped down for a kiss, his lips hot and feral against your own. soon enough, you felt him clamor inside of you. the stretch was invigorating, your entire body springing to life with his beating cock. “oh my god,” your head flew back into the sheets sinking inward as he felt too heavenly to be real.

“that’s it baby,” your cunt tightened around him with those sweet words. as he progressed further, you felt yourself fall further and further into pure bliss. you’d find no such place elsewhere, only in the comfort of his arms. you knew that to be certain. “taking me so well…”

you sucked in a breath, letting out a hoarse moan when he bottomed out inside of you, walls clenching entirely too tight and he thought he’d cum right then and there. but he withheld the best he could, promising to never cum before you did. he needed to see your face when you’d finish on his cock. 

“fuck…move, move lan, need you.” you whined, adjusting extremely well to his size. he didn’t even need to prod you to beg for him, you were already a willing candidate. he always knew you would. your sweet eyes, droopy and dolled up for him at the races. he’d imagined these scene over and over in his head, and never once did it disappoint when he’d fist his cock. now you were here, and your cunt was even more heavenly than he imagined. 

“anything, baby.” his pace was even and controlled, but you could see that he was tense. through your bedroom eyes, you could feel the tension through his cock. you appreciate the sentiment of taking it slow, but you knew how he was. 

he liked to be fast. 

“more,” you moaned, his head shooting up to look at you with surprise. you cupped his cheeks, flushed face begging him. “fuck me, lan. need you so fucking bad, please, please–”

he would burn the fucking world for you. you didn’t know it at that moment, but he had never been so in love with you than he has been before. he adhered to your wishes, losing the tension in his shoulders as he began a rough pace against your cunt. 

it was his only goal to make sure you felt him in every part of your body. he stretched every corner of your walls, squeezing him at every increasing thrust. he explored you fully and promised to know every inch of you. 

“taking me so well,” he grunted out, hips flexing in and out of you with an egregious pace. it was to your ultimate liking to get fucked so well by him. 

“lan…” you drawed out in a moan, lost in the stars of his throttling pace. “you’re so good. so fucking–” your own pleasure cut you off, squealing when he shifted only slightly and had your core clenching him tight. 

he let out a greedy snicker, knowing he found a spot that made you unbelievably tick. it was his to find, and his to use. you would know no better pleasure than what he awarded you. 

“oh fuck–!” you yelped as your release continued to build, the tip of the iceberg in reach. lando felt it, too, with his own stomach tightening and desperate to cum inside of you. you were a trigger for all his desires, and it would be sent off with a singular please that could leave your lips. the power you held over him and didn’t even know it…

“always gonna make you feel good, baby.” he promised you, dipping his abdomen over yours for a deeper, tighter angle. you whimpered, unable to speak. he would do it for you as he kissed over your cheeks, your jawline. 

his hand came to the column of your throat. your eyes flared with an undeniable attention and intrigue. you clenched around him, and he hadn’t even applied pressure. “always.” and you fucking believed him when his fingers swiped at the sides, applying the slightest pressure of his fingers to your airway. you fell lax against the sheets, trusting him with every part of your body. no one else would feel this way for him. no one except you. 

your eyes swelled with hot tears, breaking when he was firmer with his grasp, even with his hard cock beaming in and out of you. 

he lavished at the sight. he never knew he was so hungry up until now, starving for your affection, your pleasures. how perfect you were could never be summarized in words alone. 

“i love you,” you sputtered out, breathless and flushed hot. lando’s pace didn’t falter, but his grip around your neck loosened. 

“say it again,” he demanded, face pushing up into the crevice of your neck.

“love you so much, lando,” it was a promise you made to him. to yourself. he swore against your neck, his breath hot and humid against your skin. 

“come for me. come on, my love.” his words were only encouraging you towards and ultimate release, your tears hot against your cheeks. “i’ve got you, i’ve got you baby. so good for me, aren’t you?”

“yes, yes!” you whimpered, coil of lust for the british driver snapping a second time, harder, bringing an entire galaxy into your vision. you traveled through time and with lando, you found yourself grounded together in every universe. this was home. 

your cunt tightened, causing his pace to get sloppy, his own release parallel to yours. you milked him dry, panting and chests heaving together. 

he fell on top of you, his full weight comforting against your wet skin. he didn’t pull out yet, too exhausted to find the effort. 

“did you mean it?” i love you.

“yes.”

lando became shy as he found himself brushing your nose with his. “i love you, too. have for a long time.” 

a long time

“i will love you in every life time,” you said, earning you the brightest smile that the driver could muster. a lifetime. 

“a lifetime…” he repeated, in a daze. “love you so much…” he said your name into your cheek, giving you a plump kiss. “infinite lifetimes would never be enough.” 

you peppered his face with kisses. this was your gravity. the force that kept you grounded throughout time. if you ever got lost in the cosmic reaches, you would be able to find him. find home. find the beacon of light that he provided. 

you were safe here, and so was he. and does gravity know no bounds between objects. you would be attached to one another for the rest of your living days, and even further throughout the cosmos. and that was enough for you, for now. 

────────────

weeps;;

i am also open for requests <3

[sukunasteeth]

When Sukuna kisses you, it feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.

You started out perched on his lap, but by now he's reduced you to a boneless, panting heap in his grasp. His arms supporting you are the only things keeping you from melting against him like liquid lust. You're desperate for a moment of solid ground to catch your breath, but Sukuna is adamant on continuously taking it away from you. His calloused hands inching their way up your shirt, brushing softly against your sides, over your rib cage, skimming the underside of your breasts, all in mesmerization at how soft your skin is.

"'Kuna..." You try to capture his attention, which has been taken by his fixation on how sensitive your ears were to the scrape of his teeth.

You're surprised when he answers with a distracted hum, "Yes, my little doe?"

"I -I need a second." You stutter, your heart is thumping wildly in your chest, despite how intoxicated and incapacitated you feel at his mercy. You were starting to forget how to breathe in his close proximity and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep your head straight with his natural scent acting like a pheromone.

You feel his wicked grin against your neck before you hear it in his voice, "Poor thing. Am I working you too hard? I rarely see you so out of sorts..." 

Sukuna doesn't even try to disguise his amusement at your complete inebriation with his kisses. His tongue presses against the nape of your throat before he follows a line of sweat up to your ear, leaving behind a cold stripe of his saliva against your burning hot skin. He holds you fast when you violently shiver against him, "It's a good look on you."

“Please…” You beg with whatever breath you can conjure for him but it comes out as more of a desperate little whimper. That was Sukuna’s favorite tone of your voice, after all. 

And desperate you were. Sukuna had been devouring you for so long, sucking and nipping and licking at whatever part of your revealed skin interested him. You could feel your legs forgetting how to operate.

You just needed a moment. 

Without his permission, you push away from his chest and manage to get to your feet in front of him. Your legs buckle, but you're able to catch yourself before you fall face first back into him. Sukuna is looking up at you, as kiss drunk as you felt, blinking slowly with a satisfied smile. 

“Give me just one sec-” You’re about to turn away. And then you see it. 

Sukuna had you so entranced with him, had your mind so far away from your body, that you hadn’t even noticed the fact that you had cleanly soaked through your panties on his lap. And there, on that oh-so-comfortable part of his thigh, that had quickly become one of your happy places, was a dark spot on his jeans from your wetness. 

All you could do was stare down at it, mortified. 

Which only has Sukuna following your gaze in momentary curiosity. 

“I-I’M…” You try to catch his attention again with the sound of your voice before his eyes can settle on the new mark, but Sukuna sees it first.

His grin quickly fades and your heart careens into your throat. You feel embarrassment shoot through you like a shot of adrenaline, coloring your already pink face a bright and rosy red. 

The clear solution to the undoubtedly awkward situation is to run, right?

“I’ll be right back-” But you don’t even move an inch before his hand snaps forward and latches onto the front pocket of your (his) hoodie, stopping you in place. 

Your heartbeat thumps in your red-hot ears and you go against every fiber of your being to meet his eyes.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going with my dinner?" The playful lilt of his tone has completely vanished and reveals a deep, dark starvation in its place.

"I work hard for my meals, you know?” 

[hcneymooners]

dad’s best friend ambessa perhaps ..? :3 i love ur age gap fics ur so talented

⋆ come, and be my baby.

dad's best friend!ambessa x f!reader. men & minors dni. synopsis: you've always been a troubled, searching girl. ambessa, your father's long-time best friend, is your self-ordained solution. cw: age difference, older woman/younger woman, reader is implied to be between 22-24, emotional hurt/comfort, dom/sub, dom!ambessa, sub!reader, you're a little bit of a conniving bitch still love you tho, unhealthy relationship dynamics, codependency, slight emotional manipulation, listen you had to lock in, non-sexual intimacy, pleasure dom!ambessa, rough body play, manhandling, pet names, lesbian sex, dildos, vaginal sex, implied penetrative sex, implied strapping, oral fixation (ambessa), praise kink, mommy kink (specifically mama), implied exhibitionism, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, begging, spanking, impact play, face sitting, desk sex, you guys are definitely freaks but you love love love each other.

notes: hi, honey baby. this might be the most erotic questionable thing i've ever written. i hope you're happy with it. i went a little overboard and a bit non-conventional with the trope. i adore you & thank you for requesting, mami.

two things in this world reigned absolute: that you were glad your life would only be lived once, for you couldn't do this again, and that you were ambessa medarda's favorite girl.

the medardas were a family heavy with conflict, and perhaps that's why the matriarch and your father were best friends. they both were volatile people, sometimes prone to cruelty, with soft spots for certain people that were darkened with rot at the edges—perfumed with the sweet notes of their rage.

you were both of their favorites, and therefore, when your parents got divorced, you'd acted through the narrow scope of a confused and aching little girl and chose your father. once you'd shed that naive nature, you traced your way back to your mother in secrecy. you indulged in hushed phone calls in the middle of the night, timing your exits from your room with the fading beat of your father's boots as you left.

every month, she promised to get you.

the glass would fog with your breath as you waited in that tall, flaking phone booth, each passing car's headlights casting long shadows across your face. you memorized every crack in the booth's floor, every water stain on its ceiling, until they became as familiar as your own disappointment.

you wore the same outfit: thick, wool tights in burgundy tucked under the gleaming straps of your mary janes and layered underneath the dark denim of your favorite jeans. you cradled yourself into a black turtleneck, your hair tamed into two plaits that rested against your neck underneath the fabric. your eyes would be wide and searching, one hand gripping the curved handle of your brown leather suitcase and the other shaking around your well-loved copy of prozac nation.

she never came, but you showed up every time.

one night, a maserati did skate up to that ancient meeting spot, and you straightened from where you'd been dozing standing up. an overly tinted window rolled down, and you were met with the strong gaze of ambessa medarda, whom you hadn't seen since your early days. you didn't remember much, just yellow-tinged memories of being spoiled by her and being picked up and tossed into the bright sky above the farm she owned.

she must've moved back.

at first, she said nothing, just cataloged your most recent iteration of your "going with my mother" outfit and worked her jaw. finally, she leaned over and popped open the door before leaning back and letting you make the choice. embarrassed and teetering on the edge of emotional collapse, you slid in and shut down as she pulled away. this was how you met her again. seventeen and sobbing, emotionally wrought and disappointed from all angles. you probably came off unbearably young, dreamy, and unprepared for the challenges of real life.

it was only later that ambessa revealed that her first thought was that you needed a mother, that you needed her. that you were a girl abandoned and fighting your best against the more experienced hands of life.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

from then on you were her newest daughter, until you weren't. you noticed how 'miss' became 'dear' became 'darling,' each new endearment a step closer across the chasm between you. the way she said your name changed too, softening at the edges like butter left in sunlight.

by nineteen, you were practically sequestered to her house by your personal desires, curling at her hip as you grew into yourself. even now at an older age—still far younger than her—you came home from university only to lay all of your belongings in the warm wood of your makeshift bedroom (the guestroom, really). she taught you to appreciate aged whiskey, watching with amusement as you struggled not to grimace at the burn.

"small sips, little one," she'd say, her hand warm against your lower back.

you learned to love the taste, if only because it meant sharing these quiet moments in her study, the leather of her armchair creaking as she leaned forward to pour you another finger's worth.

you and mel even developed a soft friendship that lessened the tension between her and her mother, tall arguments tempered by the agreement that they would not aggravate your ptsd from the divorce days. sometimes you caught mel watching you both with worried eyes, but you'd grown tired of other people's concerns.

you'd rather have this - ambessa's fingers absently playing with your hair as she read reports, the way she automatically ordered your coffee exactly how you liked it, the subtle possessiveness in how she introduced you to her colleagues.

regardless, you knew that you and ambessa's relationship spun on an axis that could be labeled uncomfortably intimate, maybe even imbalanced. for all that everyone said, you couldn't find it in yourself to be concerned. you regarded her as all that you had, something that wouldn't leave.

she indulged you, kissing your forehead when she came in from a day at work or texting you about what replacements you had wanted for certain items on the grocery list. she rarely called you by your name, always coaxing you forward with firm, warm pet names. they were swollen with affection, a doting '(my) sweet girl', 'baby girl', or 'little one.'

your favorite one was invoked from a spontaneous trip to paris to meet an art collector she'd purchased from, only to return bearing handcrafted soaps and a penchant for calling you 'chouchou.' that stopped about two weeks later, but you wrote it down under your list of desired tattoos. what didn't stop was the way she'd buy authentic silken scarves to tie around your neck with careful precision, her fingers brushing against your pulse point in a way that sent you shivering.

the shift was gradual, like watching shadows lengthen at sunset. one evening, as thunder rolled outside and rain lashed against the windows of her study, she pulled you closer than usual. ambessa’s fingers traced patterns on your skin as she read, and when you tilted your head back to look at her, she met your gaze with an intensity that made your breath catch. the thunder cracked again and the peeking champagne of your bra strap slipped down your arm. still, neither of you moved.

the moment was eventually broken by mel’s surprise of coming home for the weekend. you pulled yourself upright, intending to put together a small plate for her. before you could leave, ambessa strolled up behind you and adjusted the strap, so that it was firm and held tight to the delicate bones of your shoulder.

for a moment, you thought you’d felt her lips right beside it.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

"you're not a little girl anymore," she murmured one night, weeks later, her voice carrying the weight of aged whiskey and unspoken promises.

you were curled in your usual spot beside her, but everything felt different - charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle. you couldn't remember when the maternal comfort of her touch had transformed into something more, but you knew there was no going back.

"i haven't been for a while," you replied, your voice steady despite the way your heart hammered against your ribs. her hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze, and you saw in her eyes the same hunger that had been growing in your own.

your fingers traced the rim of your whiskey glass, ice long since melted. the study had grown dark save for the amber glow of her desk lamp, catching the silver in her hair like moonlight on water.

you'd noticed her watching you more lately, her gaze heavy with something between concern and desire.

"you remind me of her sometimes," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "mel, when she was younger."

the comparison should have stung, but you knew better. you'd learned to read between her lines, to understand the weight she carried. you were not mel's replacement - you were something altogether different, more dangerous.

you set your glass down carefully, the crystal making a soft sound against the carpet.

"i'm not her," you said, voice steady as you rose from your chair. "i won't leave."

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and threat. her laugh was low, throaty.

"no, baby girl. you're nothing like her at all, are you?"

she spoke the endearment deliberately this time, watching how it made you shiver. you'd both been playing this game for months - you with your calculated vulnerability, her with her careful restraint.

you moved to stand behind her chair, hands resting on her shoulders. through the silk of her blouse, you felt her tension, the way she stilled like a prey animal. but ambessa medarda was nobody's prey, and you both knew it.

"i need you," you murmured, the words leaden. you were trying not to sound as crazed as you felt . "and you need someone who needs you."

her hand came up to cover yours, her gold rings dense and cool against your skin.

"you're very clever," she said, something like pride coloring her voice. "i should send you away."

"but you won't." you pressed your lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her perfume - something expensive and french. mango wood and black rose if you remembered correctly, discovered during your illicit investigations of her bedroom. "because you understand me better than anyone. because we're the same."

she turned then, catching your wrist in a grip that walked the line between gentle and controlling.

"the same?" her thumb pressed against your pulse point, counting out the rhythm of your wanting. "you're barely older than my daughter."

"age is just a number," you said, and then laughed at how young it made you sound. "no—that's not what i mean. what i mean is that we both know what we want. we both know how to take it."

the silence stretched between you like spun sugar, delicate and sweet. outside, leaves skittered across the gravel drive, and somewhere in the house, a clock chimed eleven. you watched emotions play across her face - desire, concern, resignation, hunger.

"if we do this," she said finally, her voice rough like aged bourbon, "there's no going back. no playing innocent. no running away when it gets hard."

you smiled, all teeth and triumph poorly disguised as submission.

"i told you," you said, sinking to your knees beside her chair, resting your head against her thigh like you had a hundred times before - but different now, charged with intent. "i'm not going anywhere."

her hand found your hair, nails scraping gently against your scalp.

"my clever, terrible girl," she murmured, and you could hear in her voice that she'd surrendered to this animal between you. "what am i going to do with you?"

you turned your face into her touch, lips brushing against her wrist where her heart copied yours, beat for beat.

"keep me," you said simply. "just keep me."

the study grew quieter still, the only sound was your shared breathing and the distant whisper of wind through bare branches. you'd won, you knew, but then you'd been winning since that first night in the maserati, since you'd looked at her with calculated tears and let her save you. you loved her - truly, deeply, with all the fierce possession of your young heart - but you'd learned from your mother's absence that love wasn't enough. you had to learn how to hold on to what you wanted.

and oh, how you wanted this - wanted her, with her silver-streaked hair and elegant hands and eyes that saw right through you and wanted you anyway.

her fingers tightened in your hair, and you looked up to find her watching you with an expression that made your breath catch. the lamp clicked off, and in the sudden darkness, you felt rather than saw her move. her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

"stand up," she commanded softly, and you did, letting her guide you until you were perched on the edge of her desk. the wood was cool against your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of her body as she stepped between your knees. "are you sure about this?"

your answer was to reach for her, fingers curling into the cotton of her blouse.

"i've never been more sure of anything."

the clock struck quarter past, and the last autumn leaves rattled against the window as she leaned down to kiss you, tasting of whiskey and an affection hard won.

you kissed back lazily, squeezing your thighs together as one of her hands came to direct you by the base of your neck. she slotted the two of you together, lips sliding and grasping at each other between soft inserts of tongue. your teeth seemed to buzz with unnamable energy as she leaned forwards, hands bracing around you, so close to cupping your ass.

you needed her touch, needed to know whether your fantasies had been well-conjured or only pathetic in their imaginings. you’d spent nights tucking your fingers into yourself, trembling quietly as you pictured the shape of her mouth and how it would fit over you.

as if reading your mind, ambessa firmly spread your legs apart with a forceful hand and came closer to you. you let out a weak moan as her teeth scraped your neck, a hand coming to press down on your stomach as if to see how much space she had to fill.

you were so immensely grateful for the flimsy structure of your sleep shorts, the fabric tugged easily down your legs by only one of her fingers. she used that same finger to feel out the shape of your clothed cunt, her throat trembling with a low sound of satisfaction.

you were wet and desperate, wrapping an arm around her broad shoulders so that you could grind against what was now two fingers.

ambessa moved your panties aside with no great effort, sliding a finger into your tight heat. gradually, she built a rhythm inside of you until you were bucking where she held you. after a minute, she slid it out and into her mouth.

“mmm,” she said consideringly. “my babygirl is so sweet for me.”

you’d swallow a boat of fucking blackberries if you had to, choke them down despite your allergies and sealing throat if that meant she’d taste you again.

“ambessa.

she laughed and you saw her eyes glittering in the dark, the light brown so bright with want they seemed gold. it was then you realized you’d never said her first name alone before, and she must’ve realized as well because her hand suddenly clenched around your throat.

“do you remember when you turned twenty and got drunk with those miscreants from the town over?” your mouth twitched at her avid disgust. she could be quite classist. you’d work on that. “you don’t because you practically drank your body weight, but i do. do you want to know why?”

you gasped out a ‘yes’ as she used her free hand to grope the peach of your ass before switching to thumbing at your pebbled nipples.

“i remember that birthday because you stumbled into my room and climbed into bed with me.” you felt dread rising. “you bumped against my back, like a little bunny, and worked yourself into quite the state. and the whole time you kept apologizing. you were saying ‘sorry, mama’, all slurred and saccharine, over and over till you finished.”

you were so hot with shame you could’ve set the house burning. she smiled, slow and teasing, as she pinched your nipple hard. you let out a high moan.

“i liked that.”

you were squirming now, two of her massive fingers back to stretch your pussy.

“i liked it very much. i had to make sure not to wake you as i fucked myself.”

your eyes widened, like two coins, as the words registered. ambessa laughed again and lowered to her knees, yanking you forward so your ass hung off the edge of the desk. she was still tall enough to tower over you, shadowing the sopping mess of your cunt.

with an annoyed roll of her eyes, she pulled her fingers away and reached behind you, returning with a pair of scissors. with two efficient cuts, your panties were hanging in tatters around your hips. your pussy was exposed in all of its pink glory and it pulled apart with a soft squelch as she pushed your thighs up and out, guiding your hands to hold them for her.

she tugged a hair tie from around her wrist, drawing her gray mass of curls into a loose bun. several strands fell around her face, but she only pushed them impatiently behind her ears. you slapped your hand around blindly, eventually flicking on the bright desk lamp.

“i want you to see me,” you breathed, and she cupped your cheek.

“i’ve always seen you.”

and with that, she went down. she started with a long, luxurious lick up your cunt, her lips suckling around your clit as she reached the top. you moaned loudly and dropped your hands from your thighs, raising them to tug and pinch at your tits. she kept your legs open by sliding the bulk of her back between them, sliding back down to lap at your hole.

for someone as rigid as ambessa could be, she was messy when eating you. she didn’t care to savor, not right now. she’d wanted you for what felt like forever, and you wanted to black out beneath her.

she further spread you open, thrusting her tongue into your heat and feeling you clench. back and forth she went, slobbering over the pink of you until you were tearing up. she suctioned her mouth over one of your lips, large and gleaming, pulling away so that it slid from her mouth with a wet extended ‘pop!’. you clutched at her head, rocking yourself into her unforgiving hold. she blew gently over your hole, watched as it fluttered.

“mama, please.”

tenderly, she grazed her teeth over your clit, soothing the sting with her tongue as she sank three fingers inside of you. ambessa fucked you hard and fast, your tits bouncing as you whimpered with a hand over your mouth. a hand came down like thunder on your ass, the crack hard and hot. you wailed and clutched at her, begging her to go faster, to mark you, to swallow you whole.

“there you are, baby girl. tell me what you need.”

“mama, wait—” you shuddered around her crooked fingers, the world turning white as your head grew hazy. “wait. mama.”

“hmm?”

you scrambled at her, pushing her until there was enough space to slide from where you’d settled at her wrist. wobbling, you turned on your hands and knees, pushing your ass up into her face and falling into a brutal arch.

“like this please.”

“anything for my girl,” ambessa said and you shook because you couldn’t see her face but you could feel her voice.

her fingers dove back into you, her mouth joining the effort. you were floating, only briefly aware of the consistent slaps to your ass through the pain ricocheting pleasantly through you. you pushed back, fucking yourself the way you wanted. she let you, steadying you when you began to lose rhythm.

“bessa, i can’t—i can’t see you,” you slurred and she hummed into your weeping pussy.

your stomach grew tighter and tighter, the world narrowing down to the way she slurped and worked into your cunt. you gripped the opposite edge of the desk, extending yourself as your orgasm began to boil over. quickly, ambessa swung herself under you and brought you down on her face. her arms flexed around your stomach, the corded muscle circling you as she moaned into your cunt.

the vibrations set you off. you felt like you were flying, like you were fucking free.

“oh shit, mama. fuuuuckkkk.”

your voice was unrecognizable to yourself, cracking and raspy. time stretched and winded. you knew your legs were shaking, that you’d squirted over her and yourself.

you didn’t know how, but ambessa was undressed now and rearranging you like a doll. you were back up on your knees, but she was draped over you with her heavy tits branding your skin with their warmth and weight. her hair was down and around you; it smelled like her shampoo, a curtain of coconut and cinnamon.

she bumped her hips against you, caught the silicone tip of a dildo again and again against your loose hole. you turned your head and opened your mouth like a baby bird so she could spit into it, stuff her fingers in.

she began to break into you, bullying your cunt into accepting her cock. you did what you always did. you pushed back and let her in.

you only ever gave her what she needed.

⋅˚₊‧ 🕯୨୧ 🦪 ‧₊˚ ⋅

morning light filtered through dense curtains, casting the bedroom in baby pink. you watched your rings catch the light as you stretched - the marquise diamond throwing prisms across egyptian cotton sheets, your simple gold band warm from sleep.

you'd chosen them together - ambessa insisting on the marquise cut for the engagement ring (something as unique as you, sweet girl) while you'd wanted the classic simplicity of the wedding band, a quiet echo of forever.

the bedroom remained your favorite place - all cream linens and dark wood, familiar as breathing. in the mornings, you could pretend time stood still, pressing chapped kisses against her strong bare arms in the quiet before the day began. sometimes you climbed on top of her, sunk as far as you could into the broad helm of her body.

despite the passing years, she remained your most fortified sanctuary.

"baby girl?" ambessa's voice carried from the en-suite, still commanding even wrapped in morning softness.

you could hear the water running; a bath being drawn.

“coming, mama.”

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[junicult]

!! the bachelors after their first kiss with you

contains ; fluff! gn!(but written with fem in mind)farmer for most. implied male in alex’s. non canon setting (for most). unestablished relationships—pre dating. alcohol usage. smoking (cigarettess).

note ; i had a nice time in my imagination with this one

harvey.

he stares at you, stunned at how easily you were able to do the thing he’s been thinking about for weeks. how soft your lips felt, how comforting your hand on his chest was, and how genuinely intoxicated just one simple kiss from you was already making him feel.

he clears his throat, and almost like you just sucked every word out of him, all he could muster up was a mumbled, “thank you.” he thanked you. for kissing him.

you purse your lips, trying your darnedest not to laugh watching his face just drop, realizing the first thing he said to you after you kissed him for the first time was a thank you.

“oh no, it was my pleasure.” you tease, allowing a small giggle to slip. he sighs like his blood has run cold, too embarrassed to even respond. luckily for him, you’re just too perfect, and you cool his sting by leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. you pull back with a smile, hand cupped over the opposing one, “goodnight harvey. i’ll see you tomorrow. you can thank me for that one, then.”

sam.

he acted almost as quick as you did, the moment he saw your eyes fixate on his lips and lean in, he wasted no time to fill in the gap between you two.

“you kissed me.” he says, face washed in amusement and adrenaline. he remains a solid grip where his hands rest on your lower waist, clear he has no intent on letting you go anytime soon.

“i might’ve.” you murmur, flickering your gaze to and from his. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think—

“are you all shy now? did i make you nervous?” he angles his head to chase your nervously wandering eyes, mischievous grin and tease in his tone. his hand consciously cups the side of your neck, thumb pressing into your jaw to gently force your chin up and maintain eye contact.

you huff, shaking your head. “well, a little! we just kissed!” you try not to sound too whiny—though, the way his grin spreads almost makes you forget that plan.

“aha! i made you nervous! am i so handsome? am i such a good kisser?” he muses, snickering in triumph.

“sam,” you test, narrowing your eyes through your eyelashes.

“what? you dunno know the answer? wanna kiss again to find out?”

shane.

he didn’t actually think you’d lean in, much less keep it going for so long that he’d have to push against you a moment later to give him a second to breathe.

but you shake your head, misinterpreting it all so quickly. “i’m sorry—i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have kissed you, i don’t know why i did that, i’m sorry—“

“whoa, i wasn’t pushin’ you away,” he immediately rouses, “i’m not mad that you kissed me.” and he snickers lowly, “more like pounced on me.”

“you’re not?” you hum breathlessly, straightening your pants and tucking pieces of your hair back. now your chest bubbles with a new kind of embarrassment. you nibble on your lower lip, attempting to ease your breaths. “i—i dunno why i did that. i don’t usually drink…much less makeout with people while i do.”

you slouch back down on the old, creaky dock next to him. he snorts, tilting his head, “‘m just too irresistible, huh?”

you shoot him a glower. “yeah,” you say like it’s sarcastic, but really, you’re well aware you aren’t drunk enough to start behaving irrationally. “i just didn’t mean to do that.”

“i don’t mind that you kissed me.” he shrugs.

you watch as he takes a swig from his beer can. his eyes focus on the overall still lake in front of you both. “you don’t?”

he almost wants to tease you for all your disbeliefs. he chooses to scoff out a laugh instead, shaking his head. “mm-mm.”

you turn to face the water, gently swinging your dangling legs over the edge. “hm,” you hum back, “maybe we should talk about that when we’re both sober.”

sebastian.

he’s borderline shocked at how easy it was for him to kiss you back—no hesitation after your fingers brushed the back of his hair to pull him in. he’s almost loopy, too, and he’s never been the type to swoon so hard from these kinds of affections. but he’s also learned a lot has changed since he first met you.

“you taste like cigarettes.” you murmur as you step back, licking your lower lip as if to repeat the taste. you turn towards the city lights, and for the first time he’s finding it nearly impossible to follow your gaze.

“i’m sorry,” he truthfully says, absentmindedly stepping down on the previously tossed cigarette butt at his shoe. “i’ve been trying to stop.”

“tastes like you, too. mixed in, i guess.” you note with a smile, “it’s not terrible though. but good, you should try and quit.”

he honestly doesn’t know how to take that—in his mind, he can’t imagine that tastes good, much less the combination any glorious. yet you turn to him again, stuffed hands unfolding from your pockets to reach across for his.

all you had to do was to give him a tiny tug, sliding your hands up his shoulders before he repositioned his own back to where they previously sat on your waist.

“let me bask it in while i can, though.”

alex.

you’ve almost never seen him with this soft, content look on his face. you’re half expecting him to burst into laughter, try to justify his actions with a teasing lilt and offer to pretend like it never happened.

but no. all he does is look at you, watching the way your eyes shift between each of his, evaluating. like he’s waiting for one of you to break.

you take the bait. “why’d you do that?” you murmur, quiet enough the wind almost picks it up.

he shrugs. “i dunno. it felt right.” he hums, and despite his uncertain words, he says it with sincerity. “was that the wrong choice?”

you think for a moment. for you, you surely thought about it for weeks. but the timing certainly didn’t feel appropriate. vulnerability changes a man like him most of all, and the last thing you’d want to do was take advantage of that. you absentmindedly swirl the grains of sand under your fingertips.

“no, i don’t think so.” you respond easily.

he nods. you’ve never seen him this quiet, but despite that, you’ve got an idea of what’s exactly going through his mind. when he turns away, you’re certain.

“you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“of course not.”

elliott.

he had almost forgotten why he invited you over—just for inspiration on the last couple chapters of his novel, or did he honestly plan for it to go like this?

“so…what happens after they…kiss?” you coyly murmur, still held in his embrace so close you can smell the drop of pomegranate on his lips.

“well, i haven’t written that far just yet,” he pauses to take a breath, “i was hoping they’d finally confess their love.”

he’s so handsome this close, your head still reels and lips feel fuzzy as you struggle to bring back in your even breaths.

you nod, slow and computing. “yeah—no, that sounds good.”

your plump lips hold him in a trance, as do his, making it so hard to concentrate on his words all the while you feel you’re too fixated on them.

“so you believe they love each other? that they should finally tell the other?”

the kiss rendered you thoughtless—what can you expect from a romantic like him? however, the metaphor is not lost on you. and had he let you go at this point, it wouldn’t have been so easy for you to eagerly nod, “absolutely. two people in love should tell each other they’re in love.”

[lilianne-tarot]

Pick-A-Card: If They Could Speak to you, This Is What They’d Say…‎✧˚₊‧

I know many of you are carrying unanswered questions from someone who disappeared, whether they ghosted, blocked, or drifted away. Just because they’re silent doesn’t mean they don’t feel something. This reading will reveal what they feel now, what they wish they could say, and the truth behind their silence. If you’ve been searching for closure, this might be exactly what your heart needs. This is a timeless reading.

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જ⁀➴PILE I

Cards pulled: 10 of wands, the chariot, knight of pentacles, 9 of wands, 5 of cups.

Omg, lovely, I can already feel the weight of this situation. Your person is literally carrying the weight of regret on their back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they go about their day pretending everything is fine, but the moment they’re alone? Boom. The reality of what happened between you two slams them like a truck. This disconnection is heavy for them. There’s guilt, sadness, and this exhausting feeling of, “Did I seriously let this go? Did I mess this up beyond repair?” They’re haunted by what went down, but instead of dealing with it, they’re burying themselves in responsibilities, work, distractions, ANYTHING to avoid facing their own emotions.

And can we talk about the 9 of Wands real quick? Because this is telling me that even though they feel all this, they are STUBBORN AF about actually doing something about it. Like, they’re standing behind this emotional wall, peeking out every now and then like, “Should I reach out? Should I say something?” And then immediately retreating like, “Nah, can’t risk getting hurt again.” It’s this push-and-pull energy where they miss you like hell but are too scared to face what reconnecting would mean. It’s frustrating because I can FEEL their emotions bubbling under the surface, but their pride, fear, or past pain is making them act like they don’t care. They care. A LOT.

Are They Still Thinking About You? Oh, 1000%. This person might be hyper-fixating on work, hobbies, or even other people as a way to convince themselves they’re “over it,” but the gag is… they are NOT. This was a lesson in emotional growth, resilience, and learning to let go of what isn’t serving you. This wasn’t just a random breakup or separation, this was divinely orchestrated to push you BOTH into a new phase of life. Whether that’s healing, self-worth, or realizing that love isn’t meant to be this exhausting, this situation was meant to wake you up. The universe was like, “Okay, I’m gonna rip this band-aid off because y’all clearly aren’t doing it yourselves.” For them, this disconnection was supposed to teach them how to actually process emotions instead of avoiding them. For you? This was a test in knowing your own worth and not waiting around for someone to figure out theirs. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already outgrown this situation in some ways. Like, you’re looking back and realizing that this person’s emotional immaturity, avoidance, or inability to take action was something you deserved better than.

Because right now, you’re The Chariot. You’re the one being pushed forward by the universe, stepping into your power, and realizing that you don’t have to keep carrying the emotional weight for someone who won’t even acknowledge theirs. I feel like if there’s a reconciliation, it’ll be one of those moments where they show up out of nowhere, suddenly ready to talk, but you’re already at peace with how things played out.

At the end of the day, bestie, the choice is yours. Do you want to wait and see if they finally grow up emotionally? Or do you want to fully step into your Chariot era and say, “If they wanted to, they would.” Whatever you choose, just know you are NOT the one who lost here. they are. The universe didn’t remove this person from your life to punish you, it did it because you deserve someone who isn’t emotionally constipated. Whether this person ever steps up or not, you’re already on the path to something bigger and better. Don’t let their slowness keep you stuck when you’re meant to soar. Period. 

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જ⁀➴PILE II

Cards pulled: 2 of cups, empress, 4 of cups, 3 of wands, 8 of wands

Let’s start with the 2 of Cups + 4 of Cups because, this is a whole messy situationship in their heart. On one hand, they KNOW what you two had was special. Like, deep down, this person still feels so connected to you, there’s love, attraction, and this magnetic pull they can’t explain. BUT, instead of embracing it, they’re in a situation which is like, “Ugh, I don’t know what to do with these feelings, so I’ll just pretend I don’t have them.” Make it make sense. This person is giving emotional avoidance at its finest. They’re sitting there thinking about you CONSTANTLY, yet they’re also refusing to act on it. Why? Pride? Fear? Stubbornness? Check, check, and check. This person is SO in their feelings, but they’d rather stare at their phone in silent suffering than send that “I miss you” text.

If you ever doubted your impact on this person, let me tell you right now—you are THE standard. The Empress energy is giving “no one else compares”, and trust me, they feel that. You weren’t just another person in their life; you were a whole universe, comfort, love, beauty, growth. They looked up to you, even if they never said it. And now? Now they’re sitting in that misery like, “Wait… did I actually fumble them? Did I just ruin the best thing I ever had?” And babe, the answer? Yes. Yes, they did. Instead of owning their feelings and reaching out like a normal person, they’re watching from the sidelines probably lurking your social media, let’s be real. It’s like they’re waiting for you to make the move, but at the same time, their ego is screaming, “No, don’t do it! Stay mysterious and suffer in silence!” The duality is strong.

Do they still think about you? LOL. the cards said said, “Let me be so serious right now.” YES, bestie, they think about you ALL THE TIME.

The 3 of Wands tells me they’re waiting, but for what?? A sign? Divine intervention? A carrier pigeon with your message? SERIOUSLY, this person has a very princess energy ( i mean it sarcastically🫠)  It’s like they’re standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out into the distance, wondering if you’ll come back, BUT THEY WON’T MAKE THE MOVE. They’re definitely thinking about reaching out, but they’re terrified of rejection, of things not going how they want, of you realizing you deserve better (which you do, btw). This person is itching to talk to you. Like, the urge to break the silence is REAL, but their fear of vulnerability is holding them hostage. They want that fast, passionate, “let’s fix this” conversation, but at the same time, they don’t know how to start it. So instead, they overthink, procrastinate,

For you, this was about realizing your worth, stepping into your Empress energy and knowing that you don’t have to chase love or beg for emotional availability. You’re learning that if someone isn’t showing up fully and completely, they aren’t worth your energy. For them? This was a harsh lesson in what happens when you take something beautiful for granted. They had the 2 of Cups connection in their hands, and instead of nurturing it, they let their own fears, ego, and hesitation sabotage it. Now, they’re left staring at their phone, wondering why it feels like something’s missing. (Spoiler: It’s you.)

It depends on them. The 8 of Wands is the biggest clue here, IF they find the courage to reach out, this could move FAST. Like, once the dam breaks, expect texts, calls, maybe even some dramatic love confession energy. BUT, and this is a huge but, are they actually ready to show up for you the way you deserve? Because if they come back with the same inconsistent, emotionally avoidant energy, then babe… NEXT. 

The universe didn’t make you go through this pain just for you to settle for half-assed love. If they step up, if they come back genuinely ready to make this work, then cool. But if they’re just coming back because they’re lonely and miss your warmth? You already know the answer.

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જ⁀➴PILE III .

Cards pulled: temperance, queen of swords, 3 of swords, death, lovers

Omg, buckle up, bestie, because this reading is major. Three out of five cards are Major Arcana? Yeah, this isn’t some casual, “Oh, we drifted apart” situation. And I’m already getting chills.

First off, yes, this person still thinks about you. Like, a lot. But here’s the twist: their thoughts are a mix of regret, self-defense, and straight-up emotional exhaustion. I’m seeing someone who’s torn between wanting to reach out and knowing that doing so might just reopen wounds they aren’t ready to face. This is giving heavy "I messed up but I don’t know how to fix it" energy, mixed with a sprinkle of "but also, am I even ready to?" vibes.

Let’s talk about the situation here, because ouch. This was not a simple falling-out. This was heartbreak in its purest form. Whether it was betrayal, a painful truth, or just the gut-wrenching realization that you two couldn’t continue as you were, this was an ending that HURT. The kind that still lingers, even if you try to act like it doesn’t. And the thing is? This connection had to break apart. The universe literally forced this transformation on both of you. Death isn’t just about loss, it’s about endings that lead to major rebirth. Whether you wanted to or not, this separation changed you both. This person sees you as someone who’s balanced, mature, and, dare I say it, lowkey intimidating. Like, you’re in your healed era (or at least you seem like you are), and they don’t even know how to approach you anymore. There’s a sense of, “Would they even give me the time of day?” but also, “I know I need to be on my best behavior if I even think about coming back.” It’s like they know they can’t play the same games or bring the same energy they did before.

And The Lovers? Whew. This is deep. On a soul level, this connection was REAL. Like, cosmic contract, past-life, meant-to-be-a-lesson kind of real. Whether that means “meant to be together” or “meant to change each other’s lives” is another question, but the bond? Unbreakable. Even in separation, you two are still energetically linked.

So, what’s the truth they’re not saying? I’m getting that they regret something big, possibly a choice they made, something they said, or maybe just how they handled the situation as a whole. But their pride (or fear) is stopping them from admitting it. There’s also a level of stubbornness here. Like, they don’t want to come back unless they’re sure they’ll be received well. They don’t want to be vulnerable unless they know it’s safe. Why did this happen from a higher perspective? Because, bestie, you needed to step into your power. The Queen of Swords isn’t here by accident. This situation forced you to set boundaries, demand better, and step into your own clarity. You’re wiser now, sharper, and honestly? You won’t tolerate the same nonsense anymore. The universe was like, “Let me remove this person so you can actually step into the next version of yourself.” And whether they realize it or not, they were also meant to learn something from you. They may not have grown as much as you (yet), but your impact on them? Unforgettable.

So… reconciliation? Here’s the thing: It’s possible, but it wouldn’t be the same. If they were to come back, they’d have to be a whole new version of themselves, and honestly? You might not even want them anymore once you fully step into your power. This isn’t about waiting around for them, it’s about knowing that you’re on a completely new path, and if they can’t meet you at your level? That’s their loss.

Final advice? Trust this transformation. Even if it hurts, even if you miss them, know that this ending was a divine redirection towards something so much better. Whether that means a renewed version of this relationship or a completely new chapter, either way, you’re leveling up, and that’s the real takeaway here.

Sending you all the love, bestie. And remember, you’re THAT person. Don’t let anyone make you forget it. ✨

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Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!