#to be clear i do not want people to stop doing this i do genuinely love to see it. it's jsut funny to me

[vettelsvee]

Hi love! For your tortured poets department, can I request endgame from the reputation album, lando being the driver please please 🙏

END GAME | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Friend with benefits Piastri!Reader

SUMMARY: You were used to have random hookups just for fun, including with Lando Norris himself. It's not until he decides to lock both of you up on his driver room and talk about your weird relationship that you don't realize that, deep down, you're willing to settle down your mind and start a dating him ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT

WORD COUNT: 2745

WARNINGS: Slightly +18 at the end (sorry for leaving it there ☺️), mentions of friends with benefits, spelling with multiple people, angst, curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Haven't written Lando in a very, very long time, so hope you like this one! University and my mental health are killing me but you know what? Writing is what keeps me going (and specially your comments have been a boost of serotonin for me lately). Also... the 2k special is already living rent free in my mind and I can't wait to achieve the goal to post it 😭 I wanna give spoilers now so... you know 🤓 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

"You finally decided to show up at a race. I was starting to think you only liked having me naked in your bed behind your brother’s back."

You smiled at the screen, playing with your fingers as you thought how could you answer Lando. Your relationship was based purely on sex, moreover sexting, with barely any real conversations whenever you met, moans and orgasms speaking for you both instead.

You had never felt the need to go beyond that, to involve feelings in your relationship, or at least that’s what you had made clear to Lando before sleeping with him the very first time. You also let him know that, besides him, there were other guys with whom you had no commitments whatsoever.

However, it was with Lando that you spent most of your time. The others were nothing more than a safe escape, an easy way out when the Brit wasn’t around.

"Be grateful that I even came," you finally replied. "And don’t flatter yourself. I came to see my brother, not to make you come before a race."

You hesitated, wondering if your reply was harsh enough to keep him from getting any ideas and, more importantly, to stop him from insisting on meeting up. You weren’t sure how, but you wanted to end that strange relationship before it spiraled out of control because, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you had started to feel something for him.

Yes, just a few weeks ago, you had one of your usual encounters with a friend of one of your best friends. But everything fell apart when, right before reaching your climax, you couldn’t help it: you moaned Lando’s name instead.

That was what made you question what exactly you felt for Norris and why the label of friends with benefits seemed to be fading away.

"Don’t play dumb, Piastri. See you at the motorhome. You know exactly where."

You huffed. Of course, you knew exactly where you’d be meeting. After all, ever since your brother became a Formula 1 driver, you had visited his teammate’s personal room more than Oscar’s.

With a sigh, making sure neither your mother nor your sisters were nearby, you got up, grabbed the plastic cup that still had a bit of coffee left, and walked with as much determination as you could muster toward McLaren’s motorhome, finishing your drink along the way.

As you walked, mentally preparing a script in case things got tense with Lando, you greeted the people you knew, or at least those who knew you as Y/N Piastri. Lewis was genuinely happy to see you and even stopped to chat, but you excused yourself, saying you had already made plans. Fernando gave you a knowing look, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were about to do with a certain driver.

Even your brother crossed paths with you at the entrance to McLaren’s motorhome. You managed to lie to him, partially, saying Lando had asked you to take a few pictures of him before the race.

Oscar gave you a strange look, then rolled his eyes, offered a small smile and told you to enjoy whatever it was you both were about to do.

You said nothing, but you knew your twin brother well enough to realize he already had a pretty good idea of what you were up to with Norris. Not that you tried too hard to hide it.

When you reached Lando’s room, you didn’t even have to knock. The door opened instantly, revealing a slightly tired-looking Lando with a cup in his hand. His race suit was already on but zipped only to his waist, leaving the top half hanging loose. His team cap was still on, though it didn’t last long since he took it off and tossed it aside within seconds.

He grinned from ear to ear, like he had been waiting for you with far too much anticipation.

"Come in. Make yourself at home," he said with that mischievous tone you were so used to hearing, though something about it felt slightly different this time.

You walked inside without hesitation, crossing your arms and ignoring him, except for the occasional sideways glance to see if he would do or say something before you did. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

"If you wanted a quick fuck before the race you could’ve just said so, you know?"

"I don’t think today’s the best day to fuck you and let everyone hear," he replied. "At least, not yet. Today, we’re going to talk."

"We don’t talk, Lando," you shot back, feeling an internal alarm go off. "And when we do, it’s just to ask about the safe word of the day, what we want to do to each other, and how close we are to coming."

"Well, maybe it’s time we started talking, don’t you think so?"

His answer took you completely by surprise. Your gazes remained locked on each other, and you felt the atmosphere grow tense.

For the first time in a long while, there was no excuse you could use to avoid that conversation with Lando. Maybe the fact that you had been ignoring him for the past few weeks was enough to make him realize that there was a chance—however small—that things had changed between you two.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing sense of unease settling in your chest. Lando kept looking at you with that same intensity he always did, except this time… it was different. It wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in a situation like this, where there were a thousand unsaid things hanging between you, waiting to be voiced. But it was the first time, at least on your part, where feelings were involved beyond pure physical desire.

"I don’t think there’s anything to talk about," you said as nonchalantly as possible, but your tense posture betrayed you.

Lando set his cup down on the table beside him. Then, he sat on the edge, crossing his arms again, and reached for your hands only for you to pull away and take a step back.

"I think you know exactly what we need to talk about," he replied calmly. His voice was lower than usual, and you felt the heat grow between your legs. You shook your head, feeling guilty and doing your best to push away that sudden, but familiar, awakening in your body.

"You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. And don’t tell me you haven’t, because you were in Monaco and never called me to meet up… to see each other," he added, his voice laced with something unreadable. "In fact, we usually sext almost every day, and you didn’t even bother to tell me what  new lingerie set you bought for when you came over."

"I didn’t tell you I was coming to Miami either."

Your reply, rather than making you sound indifferent, exposed you completely. Lando raised an eyebrow, as if he had caught you red-handed. That was when you realized you had seriously screwed up.

"I haven’t been avoiding you, Lando. I’ve just been busy," you insisted.

"Busy? You mean busy by ignoring me?" He scoffed, ironic. His expression turned much more serious now, and you started to worry about where this might lead. "Tell me the truth, Y/N. What’s going on? What’s happening with you?" he emphasized.

You averted your gaze, pretending to take interest in the room’s decoration, a room you already knew by heart. You knew you couldn’t keep dodging the topic, but you also had no idea how to confront it without changing everything you had so far. It was impossible to put into words what you felt for Lando, not when your relationship had always been purely physical. And especially not when there was a real chance you were just confused… and, well, you couldn’t forget the possibility that he might only see you as his hookup.

"Nothing’s wrong," you finally responded.

"I thought we were always honest with each other," Lando sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

You felt your throat tighten. It was hard to breathe. You had been honest, at least when it came to the unrestricted desire between you, to touching each other without attachments, to seeking comfort in one another without questions that went beyond your wildest fantasies. You had avoided anything personal.

But now, you were slowly breaking the unspoken rules that had kept you in perfect balance until this moment.

"I’ve been busy, Lando, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with you, alright?" you insisted, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Things should have stayed the way they were until, according to you, I started ignoring you."

"No, Y/N, things aren’t like that," the Brit denied, shaking his head. He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall. "If you don’t want to face something because you’re afraid of rejection, just tell me. But, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like I did something wrong, because you’re killing me."

"Lando…"

"Stop insisting that nothing is happening between us, when that’s exactly what makes me think the opposite."

His confession caught you completely off guard. His words—clear, direct, and without a hint of sarcasm, threw you off… especially because you knew he was right.

You felt the urge to run, to disappear, to pretend none of this had ever happened. Most of all, you wanted to deny yourself any romantic thought you had ever had about Oscar’s teammate.

When you lowered your gaze, Lando moved back slightly, giving you space and making sure he didn’t overwhelm you more than you already seemed to be. You sighed, trying to relax once again, but before you could say anything, he spoke first.

"Tell me nothing’s wrong between us, Y/N Piastri," he said softly. "If nothing has really changed, if everything is the same between us… dare to look at  me in the eyes and say it."

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t run away, not when Lando had you emotionally cornered, teetering on the edge of an explosion. Your breathing was unsteady, heavy. Your mind screamed at you to find an excuse, anything that would let you stay true to yourself regardless of what happened next.

Lando waited, unmoving, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you tremble for the first time in your life—without him even touching you. It was the first time he had shown himself to you like this: so vulnerable and yet so determined at the same time.

"Nothing is wrong between us, Lando Norris," you finally whispered, forcing the words out, ignoring both your heart and the boy standing in front of you.

"Say it again, but this time, look me in the eyes."

He didn’t move an inch. He knew you were lying; your posture gave you away—the way you avoided his gaze, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt and your accreditation pass…

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. You had no choice… at least, not entirely.

Lifting your gaze, you met his blue eyes once again. Your lips parted slightly, ready to try and let out a lie convincing enough for both him and yourself.

But it was impossible. You couldn’t keep doing this, not when, deep down, and no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you felt something more than just pleasure for Lando Norris. The fear of rejection… it terrified you. The thought of him turning you away, of losing what you had with him, was unbearable.

"Lando…"

"You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready," he interrupted. "But please… stop pushing me away. Stop making this to us."

"It’s just…"

Nothing. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, to find a logical enough reason for your sudden ghosting, you couldn’t.

"It’s just what, Y/N?" the Brit pressed. "Are you afraid to take a risk? To admit something because you’re scared of what might happen next? Because you don’t want to change the life you’ve had until now? Because you want to…?"

Lando forced himself to stop. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, turning his back to you. Guilt hit you immediately, your body trembling as the storm inside you began to break free. The driver rubbed his face, frustration radiating from him. This was exhausting him. You were exhausting him, to the point where he was starting to doubt his own feelings. Feelings that had started to grow the moment he realized it hurt when you ignored him, when you didn’t even send him a simple "Hey."

"I wish this were different, Y/N," he finally murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to face you again. "I wish you didn’t make me feel like this. I wish I could just be content with what we had before and pretend none of this was happening…"

Your stomach twisted painfully. That was exactly what you had been thinking, the very reason you had pulled away from him and from whatever this was. You had ignored the fact that your feelings for Lando Norris had become something much stronger—maybe they had been there for far longer than you were willing to admit.

"Lando, listen" You tried to step closer, but he pulled away.

"No, Y/N, no," he said bitterly. "I tried convincing myself there was a reason you were ignoring me, acting like I was nothing to you, and then it hit me that I really want you as more than just someone to fuck."

"That…" you struggled to say, stepping toward him. This time, Lando didn’t stop you. The sincerity in your eyes, the way you looked both calm and nervous at the same time, made him realize he had to trust his instincts. And that was exactly what they were telling him.

"That’s what I wanted to tell you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but Lando still heard you. "That’s why I kept you on standby for two weeks… I knew this would change everything, that you’d react badly, that we’d end up fighting, and I… I didn’t know how to face the possibility of you rejecting… this."

Lando stared at you in surprise before a sad smile crept onto his lips.

"Y/N… I’ve always been good at reading signals, but this has been driving me fucking crazy."

"And you think it’s not been making me feel the same?" you shot back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his. You didn’t resist, feeling how the both of you tensed at the contact. His lips inched toward yours, and when they finally met, the kiss was so fierce, so full of passion, that you ended up straddling him on the couch, moving against him, desperate to feel him. Even though you both knew there was still a race in two hours.

"I don’t want to touch you like this, Y/N," Norris whispered against your ear as you left small bites along his neck. "Y/N, stop it babe…"

"I don’t wanna be just another ex-love to you, Lando…" you murmured between kisses, still searching for friction between your bodies.

"And I don’t wanna miss you like your other lovers do, babe…"

This time, Lando gripped your waist firmly, flipping you onto the couch beneath him. His eyes never left yours as he carefully lifted your shirt and started massaging your breasts over your bra.

"I wanna be your end game, Y/N," Lando breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

Your breath came out in shallow pants, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge. Your hands gripped the unfastened gear around his waist, tugging lightly to keep him close.

"Then prove it."

"I have a race in two hours, love…" he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead to yours, his arousal growing.

"Then you better be quick," you teased, running your hands over his abs beneath the fireproof. "Especially if you don’t want Osc to hear us…"

"You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Y/N Piastri," Lando groaned as he trailed his fingers up your thighs, lowering himself before you. "Now, open your legs for me... You deserve a punishment after being such a bad, bad girl these past few days…"

[rhiannonsknife]

I’ve never seen someone write Jackie and Rhiannon like you do! They’re such complex characters and you do an amazing job capturing that, even in just a one shot. Just wanted to tell you that I love your blog!

If you’re still taking requests, would you mind writing a Jackie one where her and the reader come out as a couple at Doomcoming like Tai and Van did? Maybe they’ve been together for awhile but Jackie wasn’t ready to come out until then? I think a plane crash would really put things into perspective lol!

-🦈

── MEET ME IN THE WOODS TONIGHT

— summary: doomcoming with jackie taylor.

— warnings: fluff. implied internalized homophobia. secret relationship. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

the makeshift decorations sway in the breeze, the clearing glows with warm lantern light and, despite everything, despite the crash, the wilderness, and the gnawing hunger, there’s laughter.

for the first time in weeks, the mood is light, almost joyful in a way that’s more genuine than anything any of you have experienced since the plane went down.

you stand near jackie, your shoulder brushing hers just so as you watch the others dance. she looks beautiful tonight, as she always does: her crown of wildflowers slightly askew, her cheeks flushed from the drinks misty’s been passing around. she’s smiling, but you know her too well to think she’s as carefree as she looks: jackie has always been good at pretending.

you’ve been together for months now, sneaking touches and stealing kisses when no one is looking your way. she had made one thing clear from the start: no one could know. she’d framed it as self-preservation. “it’s not that i don’t care about you,” jackie had said one night, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “i just…i don’t want to make things harder for us out here”

so, you learned to love the mask she wears just as much as the girl jackie is beneath all her pretense.

you’d understood, or tried to; her fears weren’t all baseless. she was used to control, to the certainty of her old world where she’d been whs’ golden girl, the one everyone admired. out here, though, her carefully constructed image had been crumbling from the start. the others had turned on her in subtle ways; side glances, muttered comments, the slow loss of respect. she couldn’t risk giving them more fuel.

now, as you’re watching taissa and van kiss in front of everyone, something seems to shift.

it’s not a grand declaration; they just kiss, laughing against each other’s lips like they’re the only two people in the world. the group doesn’t stop them. some cheer, but no one judges. it’s all…normal. contrary to the events of the past weeks, but normal.

you glance sideways at jackie, expecting her to look away or maybe make a comment to cover her discomfort. but she’s watching them, just as everyone else is, her eyes wide, her expression both soft and unreadable. there’s no jealousy there, either, no scorn. just a quiet longing that makes your chest ache.

“jackie?” you ask gently, leaning closer so only she can hear.

she blinks, pulling herself back to reality, and gives you a shaky smile. “it’s nothing,” she assures quickly.

“are you sure?” you press, keeping your voice soft. “you can talk to me, you know?”

jackie’s smile falters. for a split second, she looks like she might say something. but then she shakes her head, looking away. “come on! let’s dance!”

you follow her to the makeshift dance floor, letting her spin you around with surprising enthusiasm. the two of you laugh, swaying surrounded by the other girls. for this short while, it’s easy to forget everything that comes with the looming uncertainty these days. but then jackie slows, her movements faltering as her gaze locks on yours.

“what?” you ask, unable to brush it off this time.

she hesitates, her hand tightening around yours. “i just…” she glances over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowd. no one’s looking at you, their attention scattered all across the clearing. jackie takes a shaky breath. “i don’t want to hide anymore,”

“jackie, you don’t have to-“

she cuts you off by cupping your face and pressing her lips to yours, as easy as it would only ever come to her behind closed doors and the comfort of knowing you’re unseen. the kiss starts tentative, like the very first time jackie had kissed you, with her hands trembling against your cheeks. when you don’t pull away, when you lean into her, your own hands finding her waist, she deepens it. it’s soft and warm and open, jackie’s lips moving with a kind of desperation that you feel all the way to your core.

the entire world around you fades, you don’t hear the murmured conversations and laughter that surround you. all you can feel is jackie, her hands moving to your shoulders, her thumbs brushing your jawline. when she finally pulls back, her cheeks are tinted in the softest shade of pink.

“jackie,” you whisper, breathless, your forehead resting against hers still, hesitant to withdraw.

“i mean it,” she murmurs, the side of her nose nudging yours. “i don’t want to hide anymore. not with you!”

her gaze flickers shyly to the other yellowjackets around you.

there’s a moment of quiet as the others catch on, realizing what they’ve just seen. it’s van’s loud whoop that breaks the silence. when jackie looks back at you, there’s something new in her eyes. relief, maybe, or pride.

you smile at her, your fingers squeezing her waist through the fabric of her dress. “i guess the plane crash really did put things into perspective, huh?”

jackie laughs softly. “yeah. something like that.”

she doesn’t step back. if anything, she moves closer, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips as you rest your chin atop her head and pull her into your embrace.

“come with me,” she murmurs eventually.

your heart skips. “where?”

jackie’s smile turns coy. she doesn’t answer, instead she takes your hand and leads you away from the group. the warmth of the fire gives way to the cool darkness of the woods, and then, once you reach it, the cabin door creaks behind you.

inside, the room is dim, for once completely empty with the team still celebrating outside. jackie turns to face you, her eyes catching yours in the low light. she doesn’t say anything, but the way she steps closer, her free hand reaching for the back of your neck, speaks volumes.

when her mouth finds yours this time, it’s slower, deeper, her movements no longer tentative. it’s not just about showing something to the others now. it’s about you, and her, and everything that had been unspoken until now.

jackie steps closer then, backing you up until you hit the wall. her hands move to your neck, fingers sliding into your hair. the full length of her body presses against yours, caging you in as the kiss deepens.

for months, she had to hide her desire for you. now that it’s all out in the open, it’s like a dam has broken. jackie kisses you desperately, all the pent-up longing of the last poured into the collision of your mouths.

you can’t help but gasp, struggling to keep up with the demanding motion of jackie‘s lips. they trail from your mouth, down the side of your neck, nipping and kissing hungrily as her hands tug impatiently on the fabric of your clothes.

“jackie” you pant with your head tossed back against the wall. “we- we’re still-”

she pins you harder to the door, one of her legs slipping between yours. for a moment you allow yourself to get lost in the friction against your center, your hips rutting back and forth instinctively.

then, finally, you repeat, “jackie!”, breathless when she breaks away from you. her hazel eyes are dark, her chest heaving with the force of breath.

“did i do something wrong?” she asks, her voice quieter now, a hint of insecurity threading through the haze that’s come over you both. “i’m sorry, we don’t have to-“

you cut her off before jackie can overthink it.

your hand finds hers, squeezing just enough to ground her. the others could come in at any second, loud and stumbling, forcing you back to your new ‘normality’. you don’t want to forget this, don’t want to let the moment pass.

“attic. now”

you’re on top of her. chest to chest with a bare body that arches up against yours to meet you halfway.

jackie’s arms are draped over your neck, her ankles locked around your waist, pulling you in close. impossibly close, because you don’t think it’s possible to be any nearer unless you merged into her completely, lost yourself in the press of her skin, the curves of her body against yours. maybe that’s exactly what she wants. maybe that’s what you both need.

to forget where one ends and the other begins.

your clothes are scattered all around the makeshift bed you’re sharing. her dress, neat and beautiful, crumpled up on the dusty attic floor alongside your own.

it’s the most intimate you’ve ever been together: in all the months you’ve spent dating in secrecy, you never got jackie like this. you’ve imagined it, sure, pictured her at the absolute crack of dawn after making sure the other girls were definitely asleep, with a hand shoved down your pants. but even your poor attempts at masturbation in this absolute hellscape could never compare to having her underneath you.

you know, from the occasional stories she’d tell you -secrets, exchanged in hushed whispers- that jeff hasn’t either. that she was never quite ready to go all the way with him, never felt comfortable enough to.

with you, that has changed. jackie seems very comfortable now. she’s reassured you at every shy check-in between layers of clothing slipping away: “are you sure?” you’d asked when your fingers pushed up the hem of her dress. “is this still okay?” as you struggled with the clasps of her bra.

now, with the restrictive clothes gone, her lips are everywhere; against your own, the side of your neck, wandering as low as they’ll go in your current position, never getting past the swell of your breasts. jackie pulls you in absentmindedly and traces soft lines up your naked spine as her lips move down your throat. one of her hands finds yours, threading your fingers together.

this is different from all the stolen moments and careful touches you’ve shared so far. there’s no fear of being heard, no risk of being interrupted. jackie is different, every soft sound raw in a way she’s never been capable of before.

her hands roam with purpose, memorizing every single inch of your skin. her mouth traces a path from your collarbones to your shoulder as she whispers “i need you” with both her eyes closed. you can’t stop your hips from grinding into her all over again, bare skin sliding together.

you break away, blinking down at where jackie is sprawled out. “are you sure?” you manage. she bites her lip, but nods determinedly.

for months, she’s been so focused on what she should need -the validation, the approval, the status- that she’s almost forgotten how the simple act of being wanted feels like.

“okay...okay”

jackie strokes over your bare shoulders, her thumbs digging into the skin there. “can i-“ she begins, blushing under your attentive gaze. “can i touch you?”

when you nod, she brings both of her hands up to your chest. you exhale shakily. this is all so new, so sweet, even in the mess that you’re in. it’s a blur of shy touches and breathy murmurs of approval, and, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re happy. truly, undeniably happy. happy that it’s jackie. happy that she’s the one you get to share this with.

her thumb brushes over your nipple and you arch your back forward, a quiet moan drawn from your lips. the floorboard creaks under the weight shift and you laugh into each other’s mouths.

“you like that?”

your eyes flutter shut and you manage another nod. as if to test it, jackie repeats the motion, applying just the right amount of pressure.

“oh-“ you gasp, your full body shuddering.

jackie smiles, satisfied. she leans up again, her hips jerking against your leg as she moves to press kisses to the hollow of your throat while simultaneously playing with your nipples. only when she lets out a soft noise of her own, do you realize that your thigh is pressing right between hers with the way your bodies have moved together.

momentarily caught off guard, you breathe out and jackie opens her eyes to look up at you. eager to get a similar reaction out of her, you experimentally flex the muscles against jackie’s cunt, grinding carefully. her hands grasp the thin sheets beneath her body instantly, her fingers curling up in the fabric tightly. her head falls back as she gasps: “oh my god”

“does that feel good?” you drop one hand to hold her hip.

jackie nods, her jaw slack when she gives her hips a couple of gentle rolls, dragging her wetness over the length of your leg. you watch in awe when the first actual moans spill from her lips, her voice unusually high-pitched.

you press your forehead against jackie's again, anchoring yourself to her like you're afraid of losing this moment the second there's space between you. her breath is warm but uneven, ghosting over your lips as she tilts her head, her fingers threading through your hair to pull you closer.

her open mouth brushes yours, barely, just enough to make you dizzy and press your lips to hers.

the temperature around you is rising steadily as jackie moves against your body, your breathing tangling together.

this is better than anything you’ve ever imagined already, but it is not enough.

“jackie,” you whisper. immediately, she stops the movements altogether, her brows raising in concern.

“are you okay?”

her attentiveness makes you smile. “more than okay, i just-“ you bite your lip. “i want more,”

“oh”

“is that okay?”

jackie smiles in response, shifting backwards and maneuvering you both into a new position. after some more rustling movement on the blankets, you find yourself kneeling face to face with her. the way jackie’s eyes fall to your bare chest doesn’t go unnoticed: they widen as if she’s still struggling to believe that any of this is really happening.

she takes your hand in hers, gently pressing it against the valley between l own breasts so you feel the racing of her heart against your palm.

“touch me,” jackie instructs. “and let me touch you too?”

suddenly, your position makes a lot more sense. you don’t have to be told twice. instead, you bite your lip and nod. “please”

both of you reposition your knees so your legs are spread wider, and jackie’s delicate fingers trace down your front. when they reach the hemline of your underwear, you watch her, catch the way her mouth falls open as her fingers brush over the wet patch on the fabric.

“you’re so wet” jackie murmurs in awe.

hearing those words from her is enough to set you into motion too. first, your jaw drops and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, painfully aware of the emptiness where you want to feel jackie the most. then, after a soft cry of “touch me,” you drop a hand between her thighs. jackie’s arousal is damp, soaking through the lace of her panties as you cup her carefully.

she moans your name, and her head falls against your shoulder while she simultaneously fumbles with your underwear and pushes it aside. you copy jackie’s motions, panting as you look down the little space that’s left between your bodies.

you don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed about the moan that falls from your lips when she finds your clit and starts circling it with her index finger.

“god, jackie-“

“it’s okay,” jackie promises, her free hand cradling the back of your head. “you- oh!”

whatever she was going to say is cut short when you press your fingertips against her clit, rubbing it the same way you know you like. judging by the sharp intake of breath through her nose, it seems to be working for jackie too.

she’s the one to pick up the pace first, rubbing quicker circles. you can feel your thighs trembling already, struggling to support the weight of your body as you try to focus on touching jackie too. her wetness glides against your fingertips, practically dripping from her. occasionally, you dip lower, where her arousal pools, so you can gather it and bring it up to jackie’s stiff clit.

when she feels you there, she leans back, her pupils dilated as she looks at you in the dim light of the attic. her fingers press against your entrance. “can i?” she breathes, sounding surprisingly pleading for someone who’s just asking to touch rather than be touched. in response, you do the same for her: a singular finger toying at her throbbing hole.

when jackie pushes two of her own into you, you immediately follow suit, shuddering as she slides in with ease. your moans mingle together in the thick air, only half aware that, if any of the others come back inside now, they will definitely hear you through the floorboards.

“more,” you whine.

jackie pulls her fingers out slowly at your request, until only their tips are still inside, then pushes them back as far as they’ll go, tearing a soft cry from the back of your throat. “oh, jackie!”

her own walls throb around your still finger -which you have almost forgotten about until you feel her squeeze it. weakly, you curl it forward against jackie’s g-spot, trying to make up for your lack of movement. her eyes roll back in her head instantly.

"oh-“ she whines softly. “oh my god-“

you manage some gentle thrusts into her before you slide in a second one. jackie easily takes it.

regardless of your efforts, she doesn’t stop moving and her thrusts don’t falter. jackie, unlike you, keeps up with ease, her fingers reaching deeper than your own ever did. when she curls them in a come hither motion, you reach for her and jackie pulls you in closer, pressing her lips against yours to stifle your sounds.

it doesn’t take long at all until you feel a knot forming in your abdomen, tightening with every press and thrust.

when you part from her to catch her eyes, there's a string of spit connecting your mouths. the sight, the sensations, the knowledge that you’re hers in a way not even the wilderness can undo is all so much, and enough to have you on the edge of the first orgasm in months.

you know exactly what it’ll take for her to finally make you cum. and, even though her touch feels too good for you to string together coherent sentences, you manage a quiet: “jackie, god, i’m close!”

jackie, bless her, seems to understand: she finds your clit with her thumb while still pumping her other two fingers into you, and rubs it just like she did before, studying your face for a reaction.

"right there!“ your head lulls back, each breath coming high-pitched and every muscle tense. your hips rock against her hand and she starts circling your clit faster, adding just the right amount of pressure.

that, and her other hand sneaking up your body to roll your nipple between two of her fingers, is all it takes.

“jackie-“ you never get to finish what you were going to say. instead, you feel your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves. a breathless moan dies in your throat when the world around you shifts out of focus and your thighs shake violently around her wrist.

just like that, you come, coating her fingers in your release as your legs give out beneath you. somewhere through the sensations, you hear jackie’s whine when your fingers slip from her, but you’re still too caught in the pleasure to really care.

finally, when it fades, you open your eyes to look up at her. jackie is panting and removes her hand from between your legs. she’s still kneeling over you but is quick to settle down in your lap now that you’re no longer holding your weight on your knees.

“here,” she pants, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as the other guides you back between her thighs. you know what to do without any more instructions: you give yourself to her, letting her use your fingers to get herself off too.

jackie slides down onto you, jaw going slack as you slip into her with ease. you hold her by the waist to support the gentle rocking motions that make the floorboards creak.

her nails dig into your skin, leaving half-moon shapes on your shoulder blades, and she cries out quietly. you watch the scene through heavy-lidded eyes while jackie rides your fingers, getting closer and closer to the sounds of skin slapping against skin. she picks up her pace until she’s practically bouncing on top of you, her chest heaving erratically.

jackie is beautiful, you knew this about her already, but -as you watch her cum- you doubt anything else could ever compare to this sight: she pulls you closer so that her mouth is right by your ear and her face is buried in the crook of your neck, repeating your name like a prayer, not stopping even as her body tenses.

her fingers clutch at you desperately, as if you're the only thing that's keeping her grounded, but she doesn't stop. doesn't let up until she's all spent and collapses into your arms. you hold jackie through it, pressing your lips to her temple, your hands steady where she needs them most.

it takes long until you’ve both fully recovered. neither of you recalls how you ended up lying in the messy sheets, with jackie’s head resting on your chest and your fingers combing through her hair. she has her arm draped over your waist, gently stroking across your side. you don’t speak.

eventually, she shifts, pressing her face further into your chest. “we should probably go back down,” jackie murmurs, though she makes no effort to move.

you hum. “do you want to?”

she’s quiet for a moment before shaking her head. “not yet,”

you smile, letting your hand settle on her back. “then we won’t,”

[k4txlulzz]

rant of a very tired aven fan because. honestly i should know better than expect more from this fandom but😭

i want to make it very clear that i dont want to woobify aventurine ever like . that man is fucked up but he is not inherently a bad person who deserves the kind of fate he has.

i've seen people say that aventurine was just as much of an ass as sunday which. aventurine was doing his job and wears a MASK of a manipulative ass to mimic the men(and the gender is important here) who have hurt/exploited him in the past (sunday does actually become one of them). it genuinely is maddening to see people say that aventurine deserves to be treated the way he was or brushing off any kind of sympathy for aven as woobifying like . i feel like in an attempt to give him more agency (which i love and support by the way. one of my pet peeves IS people stripping away that agency in his actions), sometimes it goes far into the other point of the spectrum? like theres no sense of balance, he is either evil slimy corp guy or innocent victim who needs rescuing (both being outcomes that he actually predicts and expects!!!! ARGH)

and i dont even hate the chicken wing man at all !! i very much enjoy his character, a lot! and theres definitely a conversation to be had about how him and aven are great narrative foils. but mayhaps that doesn't mean i think aventurine, an ultimately morally gray character with a kind core, deserves to be treated in insanely cruel ways. he is a victim that is a ALSO perpetrator yes but that does not mean he isn't allowed to receive basic empathy from fans😭 he was ENSLAVED and barely had any fucking agency in regards to ipc to begin with . once again, he IS morally grey but hes not in the ipc because he enjoys destroying people's lives. maybe he is planning revenge have y'all considered that (👀possibly and hopefully oh my lord). the whole point is that he CAN get better if he truly believes in himself enough but also if he tries hard enough because it will most likely be very challenging . chaining him to a facade he puts up during work means refusing his character progression . aven isnt in his core ipc's lapdog those people are literally borderline the cause of his loved ones' death and actually the ones that enslaved him do you think he genuinely believes in their cause ?

this is just a personal little rant moment but i also saw someone complain that "i dont think aven is as much of a grudge holder as ppl think he is"(towards sunday) WHAT DO YOU MEAAANNN ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THE SAME MAN WHO WOULD RATHER BURN HIMSELF ALIVE THAN LET SOMEONE ACTUALLY CLOSE ?? LET ALONE SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO HURT HIM ???? one of the big reasons why he has this shitty mechanism IS because he got burnt in the past and got, quite literally, defensive ! hes got major trust issues

(some) sunday fans will gasp at people woobifying aven but then turn around and do the same exact thing with their own fave like . please😭dont even. people will put more blame onto the formerly enslaved person of color who did what he needed to survive than the guy who dug out all or aven's trauma and shoved it back in his face for him to suffer for hours later

i love both of them (aven significantly more) but if i see this kind of tomfoolery one more time im going to tweak OUT. stop equating aven to the entirety of the ipc and judging people for defending him

[tavolgisvist]

Two Virgins and Why Don't We Do It In The Road?

Two Virgins

recorded 3-4 (or 19–20) May 1968, released 29 Nov(UK), 11 Nov 1968 (US)

August 31 Private Eye announced that John and Yoko’s forthcoming album would have a full-frontal nude cover. September 15 Around this date, John and Yoko photographed themselves in the nude, from the front and rear, intending to use the shots as cover artwork for their rst collaborative album. November 11 John: “Originally, I was going to record Yoko, and I thought the best picture of her for an album would be naked. So after that, when we got together, it just seemed natural for us both to be naked. Of course, I’ve never seen my prick out on an album before.”

(The Beatles Diary. Volume1.The Beatles Years by Barry Miles, 2001)

Autumn 1968:

As the meeting was drawing to a weary close, John, not this day with Yoko, who hadn’t seemed particularly connected with what was going on, said he wanted to play us a tape he and Yoko had made. He got up and put the cassette into the tape machine and stood beside it as we listened. The soft murmuring voices did not at first signal their purpose. It was a man and a woman but hard to hear, the microphone having been at a distance. I wondered if the lack of clarity was the point. Were we even meant to understand what was going on, was it a kind of artwork where we would not be able to put the voices into a context, and was context important? I felt perhaps this was something John and Yoko were examining. But then, after a few minutes, it became clear. John and Yoko were making love, with endearments, giggles, heavy breathing, both real and satirical, and the occasional more direct sounds of pleasure reaching for climax, all recorded by the faraway microphone. But there was something innocent about it too, as though they were engaged in a sweet serious game. John clicked the off button and turned again to look toward the table, his eyebrows quizzical above his round glasses, seemingly genuinely curious about what reaction his little tape would elicit. However often they’d shared small rooms in Hamburg, whatever they knew of each other’s love and sex lives, this tape seemed to have stopped the other three cold. Perhaps it touched a reserve of residual Northern reticence. After a palpable silence, Paul said, “Well, that’s an interesting one.” The others muttered something and the meeting was over.

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg (filmmaker), Luck and Circumstance: A Coming of Age in Hollywood, New York, and Points Beyond, 2011)

Inevitably, many people bought Two Virgins for the cover alone: for some of the Beatles’ younger fans, it was to be their first ever glimpse of grown-ups in the nude.

(Craig Brown, 150 Glimpses of the Beatles, 2020)

Paul: So what’s the point behind Two Virgins? <…> Paul: Is there any need to do this in public, Mr. Lennon?*

(Get Back sessions, January 14th, 1969)

Why Don't We Do It In The Road?

recorded 9, 10 October 1968; released 22 Nov (UK), 25 Nov 1968 (US)

designing the White Album poster during Sept-Oct 1968

I was up on the flat roof [in Rishikesh] meditating and I’d seen a troupe of monkeys walking along in the jungle and a male just hopped on to the back of this female and gave her one, as they say in the vernacular. Within two or three seconds he hopped off again, and looked around as if to say, ‘It wasn’t me,’ and she looked around as if there had been some mild disturbance but thought, Huh, I must have imagined it, and she wandered off. And I thought, bloody hell, that puts it all into a cocked hat, that’s how simple the act of procreation is, this bloody monkey just hopping on and hopping off. There is an urge, they do it, and it’s done with. And it’s that simple. We have horrendous problems with it, and yet animals don’t. So that was basically it. Why Don’t We Do It In The Road? could have applied to either fucking or shitting, to put it roughly. Why don’t we do either of them in the road? Well, the answer is we’re civilised and we don’t. But the song was just to pose that question. Why Don’t We Do It In The Road? was a primitive statement to do with sex or to do with freedom really. I like it, it’d just so outrageous that I like it.

(Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now by Barry Miles, 1997)

PLAYBOY: “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?” LENNON: That’s Paul. He even recorded it by himself in another room. That’s how it was getting in those days. We came in and he’d made the whole record. Him drumming. Him playing the piano. Him singing. But he couldn’t—he couldn’t—maybe he couldn’t make the break from the Beatles. I don’t know what it was, you know. I enjoyed the track. Still, I can’t speak for George, but I was always hurt when Paul would knock something off without involving us. But that’s just the way it was then.

(John Lennon, 1980, All We Are Saying by David Sheff, 2020)

The song’s (very) slightly risqué lyric, all two lines of it, heightened the vague air of controversy surrounding the album. McCartney was already in trouble with the press for allowing a minuscule nude picture of himself to be included on the set’s free poster.

(The Beatles Diary. Volume1.The Beatles Years by Barry Miles, 2001)

“All this work, all this talent — and what [the press] fixate on is one small picture.”

(Derek Taylor)

from too long post

*thank you a lot, @i-am-the-oyster <3

[mamawasatesttube]

kon sweetie im so fucking sorry that someone would even say something stupid like that oh my god.

[bedlamsbard]

for love of god I wish I hadn't trained my brain into generating sequel ideas.

[bitchfitch]

I had a shrink appointment today and while I could not see it I knew my doc was going through the five stages of grief while I explained my fool proof strategy for doing my t shots despite a crippling fear of needles: By abusing my vastly more crippling fear of being an inconvenience.

My mother and I play phasmophobia together every week. she usually has a pretty limited time to do this bc she's like. a doctor and a college professor whos always busy. So I asked her to just. hold me to doing them. We don't start playing until the shot is done. so my needle fear doesn't matter because now it's Wasting™ her time and I have to do it quick. Using one neurosis to defeat another.

It's a horrible coping mechanism because it's feeding the inconvenience fear, but it is definitionally a coping mechanism.

[ghost-bard]

I feel like every time i hear about solavellan its talking about like “oh when they reunite and solas and ooooo” or like. Something angsty like one of them dying or something.

Anyone elses lavellan wanna just kill him like straight up

And i dont mean this in a hating solas way (irl) but at least in my lavellans case they went through hell and back in inquisition, and finding out solas wants to tear down the veil, effectively destroying the world as they know it, was the final straw. As in they were barely keeping it together before, and this caused them to spiral. Like a mental break happened. And that manifested in a very uh. Violent and hunting down solas at all costs kinda way.

[bitchthefuck1]

you know what, I actually will talk about this because it's bothering me. The issue with focussing so heavily on syd and carmy's potential for a romantic relationship isn't that there's something inherently unintellectual about romance or whatever, it's that a lot of people seem incapable of doing that without immediately flattening the story and ignoring or intentionally misreading any and all nuance for the sake of that romance. Every scene suddenly becomes about how it impacts their relationship, every analysis is done through a romantic lens, every frame or line of dialogue becomes about finding some easter egg or hint that "proves" these people should start dating. Their dynamic is absolutely a fundamental part of this show, but if you can only see it as a will-they-won't-they, you miss so much of what the story is actually trying to say with these two.

There are good versions of this story where their relationship is romantic and there are good versions of this story where it isn't, but as soon as you decide them being together is "the point," you lose the ability to actually judge the story for what it is, not what you want it to be.

[rat-rosemary]

I dont want to keep discussing Tommy and want to move past the drama VS the horrible terrible signs and the need to talk about it

[kn-1013]

modern au larry would actually be hype as fuck that tapes are coming back into vogue now, but he's also extremely pissed that gen z doesn't actually have access to any good quality tapes or any good quality stereos to play tapes. every single fucking last one of the modern tape players at this point in time are absolute fucking garbage and it makes him want to start blowing up buildings

[alexo-lotl]

now don't get me wrong i love fanart of jon with the fabulous outfits lots of accessories and long luscious hair as much as the next tma fan but the jon in my brain is far too pathetic for anything but years old stained and torn up jeans. and hair that hasn't been cut in years and looks like it hasn't been washed in about as much time. i enjoy the vision though

[weed-cat]

yall have got to stop conflating catharsis with praxis and/or progress.

[orcelito]

Sasuke is Out! Sasuke is Doing things! What will Sasuke do?! I have no idea!!! I've never gotten this far in the story before, so I have no idea how things are going from here!!!! But Sasuke is Loose!!!!!!

Quoting this post to myself as I see Sasuke walking around and doing things. I haven't seen this guy do anything in like a hundred episodes. It's so exciting

[ionlycareaboutyou]

it's so funny i can have a relatively good week and be in a good mood but then i start thinking about food too hard and i'm like well time to end it all