I know you don't take requests in the traditional sense, but if it sparks for any of the goose boys.. (especially six or holland) then first time getting eaten out?
ty ty ty i understand if not !!
∘₊✧ Reader’s first time getting eaten out by;
Sierra Six / Holland March / Lars Lindstrom / Ryland Grace / Colt Seavers / Driver / Henry Letham / Luke Glanton
You’re getting not one, not two, but eight different Goose scenarios for this anon, because something about it lit up eight specific Geese in my head, and I’m starting with the two you wanted most of all ;) pick your Goose and have fun!
Content: afab!reader, 'pussy' used to describe readers parts (Ryland, Colt and Henry), reader wears a skirt (Luke), oral sex - reader receiving, fingering, p in v, premature ejaculation (Driver), erectile dysfunction (Holland), smoking (Holland and Henry), semi-public (Luke)
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∘₊✧ Sierra Six
Six holds you down with his big, strong hands. He talks you through it, firm but quiet, his whispered voice cracking under the strain of how turned on he is — but he won’t pay any attention to his own needs when you haven’t experienced this before and he gets to be the first to show you such pleasures. There’s something about the responsibility of it that thrills him endlessly. No one will ever do it as good as him, and he wants to make damn sure you know that. He makes you feel completely secure, but also like there’s only one way to end this, and that’s you cumming over and over on his tongue and fingers until he’s satisfied he’s taught you enough of how good it can feel. He doesn’t even care whether you’re coherent enough to see to his needs after, that’s unimportant right now — he just wants to make you feel good.
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∘₊✧ Holland March
Holland smirks when he finds out you’ve never been eaten out before. Not because it’s funny, but because he’s smug. And why is he so smug, you might ask? Because this is where Holland really gets the chance to shine. He’s very good with his hands, but depending on how much he’s had to drink or how distracted he is by a case or how his grief is hitting him that day, his dick doesn’t always work the way he wants it too. It’s complicated. But he still always wants to satisfy you, so get his head between your legs, with a last puff of his cigarette for good luck, the smoke swirling over your glistening folds, and he goes to town. And he won’t stop until your fingers are tugging at his hair and your thighs are clamped around his head for at least the second or third time. You’ll never feel anything like Holland’s tongue. It’s magic.
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∘₊✧ Lars Lindstrom
Lars is nervous, because it’s his first time, too. But he’s glad you’re on this journey of intimacy together, and the trust he has for you surpasses any worries he might feel about getting it wrong or simply not being good at it. More than anything, Lars wants to please you, so when he dips between your thighs, careful fingers brushing over your slicked skin, he uses his fingers to expose your clit and leans in, starting slow. But god is it heavenly. His tongue is so delicate, so precise, he has you gripping the bedsheets in tight fists, crying out his name as he laps carefully but perfectly at your bundle of nerves. Your back arches as he changes pace, tries different pressures and directions… oh he’s a natural and you would beg for him to do this again — only you won’t need to because Lars gets a real taste for making you squirm for his tongue and his touch.
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∘₊✧ Ryland Grace
Ryland considers your inexperience with receiving oral sex carefully before he makes a move in that direction. He doesn’t consider you an experiment, but he likes to keep track of exactly how to please you, and experiment with what works, and therefore what else might satisfy you. He’s obsessed with your pleasure. He knows you love his fingers, that you’d have him pumping his thick middle finger into your soaked pussy knuckle deep every single night if you could, and he always obliges when the time comes. So he starts there, fucking into you with those precise fingers, using exactly the right formula to get you off so good. But just as he gets you going this time, he stops. Expecting your protest, he nervously brings his slick coated finger to his mouth and sucks it clean, moaning around it, his eyes sliding shut. ‘Mmh… please can I taste you?’ he begs, long eyelashes fluttering under your surprised gaze. ‘I’ve done the math and I think you’ll like it...’ And really, how could anyone say no to that?
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∘₊✧ Colt Seavers
Making out with Colt is always messy. Sex is messy. When he’s lost in kissing you, it’s sloppy and needy — and while sloppy would usually equate to gross, this is anything but. Colt’s handsy and passionate and his hair is always a mess by the end of the night (as is yours thanks to him), he licks and he bites (gently), and there are clothes strewn all over multiple rooms. You can’t even remember half the positions you’ve been in because it’s so fluid and free with him; he finds it exhilarating to pleasure you and just lets all the tensions of life go when he’s buried inside. So the thought of being the first to make you unravel with his tongue has him particularly excited. He’ll take you for a romantic drive, finding somewhere to demonstrate a few donuts, park up looking pleased with himself and kiss you fiercely, then check it’s okay before eating you like a starved man. You’ll have one foot on the steering wheel, the other leg hooked over his shoulders, underwear lost somewhere in the footwell that he’ll find tomorrow. But right now your pussy is all he’s interested in and he’s starved of it.
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∘₊✧ Driver
As if his kisses aren’t sensual enough, Driver’s oral skills don’t stop at getting you both close to orgasm (or in some cases for him, reaching orgasm) with just his tongue brushing against yours. So imagine his face when you’re making out, hot and heavy, and he begins to press his lips to your neck, unfasten your shirt, push lower… and as you realise where he’s headed you breathe out, ‘Wait- I’ve never done this before-’ Driver freezes, tilts his head up at you, and his sparkling eyes widen for a moment. He tilts his head and you know it’s a silent question; Do you want to? You nod. He resumes. And let’s just say he’s not the only one cumming hard while his lips are on you tonight.
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∘₊✧ Henry Letham
Henry takes his time. He’s in no hurry. He asks casually if you’ve ever cum on somebody’s tongue before and when you say no, he just looks away, thoughtful. ‘You wanna?’ he asks after another drag of his cigarette, still not looking at you while he waits patiently for your answer. And when it comes, affirming that you do want to, with him, he huffs out some vague acknowledgement, stubs out the remainder of his cigarette, faces you, and with the most gentle hands, lays you back. He removes your clothes like he’s making a work of art just by revealing your body, and his lips on your bare skin are hungry and desperate and filled with passion for this particular piece. He fingerfucks you first, preparing you as he watches your pussy take his slim digits, licking his lips before leaning in and finishing you with the most thorough strokes of his tongue. He slows as you breathe through the aftershocks, and then he sits back in his previous position against the wall, pants feeling a little tighter, leaving you to recover beside him as he lights up again. You’re dying to know what he’ll ask you next.
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∘₊✧ Luke Glanton
Luke wants you to feel special, as special as you are to him. He wants you, of course, but he also wants to make sure you feel ready. So after riding around on his motorbike, legs and arms clamped around his hips and chest, the vibration of the engine hitting your core in a way you didn’t expect, he can sense you’re turned on. He pulls over somewhere desolate, kneels beside his parked bike and pulls you around to face him, perched on the seat, before spreading your legs with his rough hands, pushing your underwear aside and burying his head under your skirt. It’s not long until you’re rutting back against his tongue, one hand tangled in his bleach blonde hair as the other grips the seat of his bike that you’re only half sitting on now, to keep yourself tethered. He comes up to kiss you when you’ve come undone for him; you taste so good he can’t keep it to himself. And then you ride back off into the night together.
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──➤ ♡ WARNINGS: RATED M. NSFW, MDNI, 18+. Sex, dirty talk, swearing.
──➤ ♡ Prompt: Telling them their cock is big.
──➤ ♡ Characters Included: Ryland Grace, Holland March, Lars Lindstrom, Colt Seavers, Driver.
──➤ ♡ Total Words: 3.4K.
You were tracing the line of Ryland’s jaw slowly, your thumb brushing against the stubble there as you leaned down from your position in his lap, the bouncing motion you had set becoming nothing more than a delicious grind as the scientist tossed his head back aimlessly against the pillow with a groan. The rhythmic motion between you faltered slightly as you whispered to him, playing your lips against his, “F-For a man who spends all his time looking into microscopes and studying molecular compositions y-you’re surprisingly… well endowed in other departments.”
God, you were dirty talking just in the right way to get Ryland to turn into a babbling mess, his eyes squeezing shut behind the almost foggy nature of his skewed glasses. You could feel him tense beneath you as you clamped your walls intentionally, grinding up before slowly coming down and resting in a seated position with a swivel of your hips. Heat rushed to his cheeks before you pulled back to see the faint blush spreading across his sharp face. Ryland’s Adam’s apple bobbed deliciously as he tried to lubricate his throat enough for a response, as if that was the only sensory issue here.
“W-well, st-statistically speaking,” You smirked at the sound of his voice being a little higher than usual as you set another deliberately sensuous pace. “H-Human male anatomy follows a no-normal distribution curve---!” Ryland nearly yelped at the sensation of your walls tightening around his hard cock, pressing into places he wanted to memorize. You can’t help but smile breathlessly as his hands come to rest on your hips, helping ease you into a more leveraged position, feeling the tangled entrapment of your thigh muscles spasming.
“T-technically, someone has-has to occupy the upper percentiles… It’s just…” He drew a deep breath in and fluttered his eyelids open to make eye contact with you when you swirled your hips once again, the friction almost too much for him to handle. “Probability, really.”
Ryland managed to growl out those last two words as his hands loosened enough to allow you to continue bouncing as you scientific compliment came rushing in and out of his brain, trying to cope as it mixed tediously with the pleasure running through his entire body. “B-but um…” He added, fingers digging into the fleshy skin that rested right above your hipbones and helped lead you into a better rhythm.
“T-thank you. I-I think?” He was not thinking, in fact. How was he supposed to when you were… Well, doing what you were doing?!
A gasp escaped your mouth as Ryland’s hips came to meet yours half way, the head of his cock pressing against the spongy part inside of you that made stars blister momentarily behind your eyes as you tossed your head back with a moan that sounded suspiciously like his name. “J-Just making an observation.”
“Yo-you’d be a great scientist.” The blonde man let out a shaky laugh, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as you captivated his gaze, hands daring enough now to come up along the scape of your curves to grasp your chest. “I-I suppose it’s one variable th-that’s working in my favor.”
“I think i-it’s working more in mine.” Your voice was nothing more than a low purr.
Something about that caused Ryland to snap, and within moments, your back was against the bed and he was perfectly slotted between your open legs, your feet tucking into the fleshier nature of his lower back. He guided himself, eyes locked between your bodies and watching the stretch his cock gave you. The analytical scientist gave way to the man who was clearly pleased by your compliment even if he didn't know quite how to handle it. You lifted your hips up slightly to give way to a different angle, the slow drag of Ryland’s cock against your inner walls making you both gasp as he sunk back into you to the hilt.
The room was nothing more than a hazy mess with cigarette smoke clinging to the open air and the dim glow of a single lamp on your lover’s bedside table. He was above you, his usually clumsy grace replaced by a focused intensity as he shoved your leg up, relishing in the sensation of your other wrapped lazily around his narrow waist. Holland’s hand grasped at the muscle of your calf, pulling you infinitely closer with each thrust of his hips, his breathing coming in ragged pants as his pink lips planted a heated, saliva stricken kiss to your leg.
You were completely lost in the sensation of his cock relentlessly pounding into you until you felt him shift, the mattress rippling as a new angle was introduced, the head of his shaft now hitting a spot that made you thrash your head back.
“Fuck, Holland!” You moaned, one of your hands coming to grasp at his wrist, fingernails digging slightly into the skin there. He hissed into the moan that left his smirked mouth. “R-right there.”
“You like that, baby?” He responded with a guttural sound, picking up the pace and driving into you with what felt like a renewed purpose. You were getting close, your entire body was shouting at you. The tension in your stomach, your leg tensing around his waist and urging him even closer, your walls tightening around him to the point where Holland had the feeling you were going to milk him for all he was worth. More than okay in his book. “O-Oh, you r-really like that.”
“G-God, you’re so deep.” You squeezed your eyes shut and chomped onto your bottom lip, but that was pointless as another groan tore through the air. Irrationality was winning, as it so often did in the throes of pleasure. “You’re so fucking big, Holland.”
The blonde above you seemed to catch for a moment at that, a slower reluctance being placed into his thrusts as his breath caught in the hollow of his throat in a sickeningly sensual way for your eyes to feast on. You can feel his cock twitch inside if you, he must have been replaying your words again and again as a stuttery laugh escaped his lips, his upper half careening down so he could place a messy kiss to your mouth.
“Jesus,” He murmured against your lips, tongue pressing against yours for a moment. “Y-You can’t just say…. Shit like that when I’m trying to concentrate.”
Holland let your leg go, instinct taking over and within moments, it joined your other around his slim hips, his forearms coming to trap you to the bed as his cock grinded into you. You moaned, “W-why not…? It’s true.”
His rhythm faltered the second you tightened around him intentionally, bringing your hips up to meet his before Holland found the willpower in himself to proceed. Deeper, harder this time. He needed you to cum on his cock. “B-because it makes me want to…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into nothingness as you clenched around him again.
“To what?” You teased despite your tone being incredibly breathless.
“T…To fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” Holland forced himself to finish a coherent statement, dark, pupil blow eyes meeting yours in a heated frenzy. “Make you feel every,” He deliberately grinded his cock as hard as he could inside of you, “Inch.” He did it again, the compliment clearly going to his head and there was now a set pace as Holland was determined to prove your words right, over and over again.
Lars was always so careful with you, as if you were something too precious for this world that might break if he wasn’t paying enough attention. And as he shifted his hips, pressing into your warmth, earning himself a soft gasp from your lips, nothing screamed as aggressive or overdone. It was just you and your boyfriend, the evening light filtering through the curtains of his bedroom to cast warm glows to juxtapose against the Winter air outside as his cock stretched you in an almost overwhelmingly absurd way.
Your inner walls fluttered, spasming around his girth as he settled a bit more between your legs, letting them case around his larger body and easing his chest against yours as the dark blonde let a whimper leave his parted lips.
“L-Lars.” You whispered, your hand coming up to cup the side of his face, his eyes squeezed shut in focus as he himself was in an adjustment period. Common for him, you let Lars work it out the way he needed as you traced your thumb along his cheekbone. He couldn’t handle those dual sensations and a moment later, his head collapsed into the crevice of your neck as he gave an exploratory shuffle of his hips a few centimeters out before plunging back into you.
“T-That feels really good.” You moaned softly into his ear causing a shiver to blister down his spine.
“I like… I like when you ma-make those sounds…” He admitted, his voice strained and barely a notch above rationality. “It’s… It’s really nice…”
A smile tugs onto your face slowly as you tuck your fingers into his thick hair, seeking to motivate and calm him down from the prospect of overstimulation. “I like making those sounds for you…”
Lars’s cock twitched at that, the motion so minute but you could feel it inside of you as you shifted just a bit beneath him, readjusting on the pillow so you could look up at him properly when he pulled his head back. “A-And I like the way you feel around me…” His blue eyes drifted along your expression before they locked onto your lips as a sole point of concentration. “It’s… Tight but in a good way… A really… Good way…”
Your boyfriend's words made you clench around his heavy cock, causing him to gasp out, his eyes widening at the new sensation. “Oh-oh, that’s… That’s something…”
You nod in agreement as a blush overcomes your entire being, urging him down so you could place a gentle kiss to his lips. He had been asking silently by staring at your mouth, a whisperless thanks being given as his moustache tickled you as you muttered, “Y-you’re bigger than I expected.” There was that breathless laugh of yours that Lars thought was so cute. “Y-You feel so good in me.”
And for a moment, the man above you didn't respond. There was no motion from him until you felt the sting of a very deliberate drag of his cock against your walls that made you tremble. He pulled back from your neck, your skin immediately missing the heated sensation of his breath against it, Lars’s brows furrowed in minor confusion.
“R-really?” He asked, and there’s something so genuinely surprised in his tone that it made your heart ache a little as you brushed your fingers through his hair as your words settled into the air and into his mind. Something shifted in Lars’s expression. The shock of your compliment slowly melted into something warmer, more confident. A shy smile tugged at the corner of his plush lips, his mustache lifting with it.
"I-I’ve never really… thought about it like… that…” Lars trailed off, his cheeks flushing a deep red against his pale skin, only minorly disrupted by his facial stubble as he inched out of you before sinking back in as far as he could reach.
Your back arched off the bed slightly, pressing your taut chest against his as you let a low moan out. “Is… Is this okay?” Lars asked after a few moments, repeating his thrusting motion that sprinkled the best sensation along your core. “I do-don’t want to hurt you…” His voice was straining to keep itself contained and not delve too far into the pleasure. Yet. He would once he knew you were good to go.
You nodded wordlessly, your mouth slightly agape as you sucked a breath in as Lars shuffled his hips against yours. “Y-You’re perfect, Lars.”
The cheap mattress of Colt’s trailer bed dipped beneath your knees, the worn sheets cool and contrasted against your palms, stark compared to the heat of the desert outside. Being on all fours was common now, it’s what the blonde stuntman liked as you arched your back to display the fleshy bounce of your ass for his hungry eyes.
His cock was so hard it felt like one little bit of attention made to it was going to make him cum as he positioned himself at your entrance, a small hiss leaving his mouth as he gripped his needy hard-on with one calloused hand, the other grasping with a possessive strength at your hip to get you in the most optimal angle. You were surely going to have bruises there in the morning, but it was all worth it.
“Ready?” Colt asked, his voice low and rough, incredibly different from the charming demeanor he showed the film crew when performing stunts.
You could only nod, your breath catching in your throat aggressively as he pushed in, painfully slow. The head of his cock disappeared as you were given time to adjust to the stretch. Even after all this time, the initial penetration was enough to make you go crazy, your head dipping as you urged your body not to shake prematurely as your toes curled. Colt watched his cock bury itself so deep inside of you that he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than that point of primal contact.
“Fuuuuckkkk.” You gasped as air finally met your lungs again, his cock filling you up completely, his taut hips pressing against your ass and conforming against him like a puzzle piece. “Y-you're so big.”
“What was that?” His hands tightened on your hips, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Your cock.” You clarified with a huff, pushing back against him and causing the large man to stumble a bit before he regained composure. “It f-feels even bigger in this position. Like I-I’m being split in half.”
What a visual. Colt responded with a low chuckle as he began to move. It was slow at first, too slow for your liking as you grasped at the sheets with a tiny moan before it increased into a set rhythm. Enough to get you both going for now, but not enough to cause anything to be over too soon. If there was one thing Colt was good at, it was teetering on that very line.
“Yeah?” He grunted, a hand coming down to grasp at your ass and urge you to grind into him as the other wrapped delicately around your neck to keep you arched instead of letting your body falter. “Tell me more, baby.”
“So thick.” You moaned hoarsely as Colt picked up pace, jutting his cock into you as best he could, the sound of skin slapping skin seeping into the air of the small trailer, the controlled movements he was known for giving way to something far more urgent. The bed groaned loud under your combined weights as Colt drove into you, your body reacting as best it could as you met him thrust for thrust, pushing back to take him deeper as his long fingers exploded against your neck and held you. You needed every inch of him, and he had to know.
“I-I’m going to cum a-all over y-your big cock, Colt. Fuc… Fuck… don’t stop.”
Colt's rhythm faltered for a moment as he processed your words. "Fuck," he muttered, his voice strained. "You say things like that and I'm not going to last."
"Don't last then," you challenged, looking back at him over your shoulder. "Just fill me up and show me what a stuntman can really do."
Lazy mornings seemed rare with your lover. Even more so when he came home at the early hours of the morning, unexplained but always willing to tug himself into your bed with the favor of stress release. And this early Tuesday morning was no different, the predawn light filtering through the small blinds of your apartment, casting faint, gray stripes across the rumble sheets that were close to being discarded.
The air was cool on your exposed skin, raising goosebumps and hardening your nipples only to be soothed by the solid wall of heat pressed against your back. Driver was behind you, his chest a firm plane against your shoulder blades, one arm curled possessively around your waist and keeping you against him. His other hand was holding onto the base of his cock, teasing your entrance, urging you to prop your leg up so he could enter.
Not like it was even a question as you did just that, sleep still tugging on your movements as the blonde pushed into you with an inch by inch stroke that made a shudder explode down your spine, felt in Driver’s sternum as he pressed his chest more ardently to your back, lips barely ghosting against the shell of your ear as a silent moan cased there. Driver’s movements were always economical and precise, somewhat tearing more into the idea of performing a function rather than fucking but that’s just how it was.
There was an intensity to him that both thrilled you and unnerved some part of your rationality, but it made you only want him more as he focused behind you, shifting his hips against your ass and pressing deeper. You gasped softly, the hand around your waist dripping between your semi-open legs.
Driver’s rhythm didn't change at your sound, but his blue eyes which has been closed, fixed on some obscure thought of his nice it was to be with someone like this, opened and slowly came to focus on your face. He watched you, his expression unreadable in the dim light but there was a crack in the facade as you moaned again, his mouth twitching.
“Mmmmm… Y-You’re always so much bi-bigger than I remember, Driver.” You panted into the air, your voice barely a tangible whisper for him. But, he heard it. And for a moment, nothing changed. He continued his steady, measured pace of railing into you as if he didn't hear your compliment at all. “You feel incredible.”
That was the nail he needed. You felt it - a subtle shift in his fingertips, the way he moved behind you before giving you a slightly deeper thrust forward. You groaned at that, feeling him stretch you like it was the first time, head tilting to the side. Driver’s gaze met yours immediately and you’re both frantically searching for something.
“Y-You’re being awfully quiet.” You observed, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face as he thrusted deeper into you, his free hand coming up to grasp your thigh to keep your leg from rebounding and clamping shut. Driver didn't bother responding verbally, but you were in for a treat as he leaned his face in to capture your lips in a tired kiss, languid and bustling with the affection he so often chose to ignore because it was easier in his line of work. His lips brushed against yours before captivating down your jaw to your ear.
“I’d rather listen to you than listen to me.” He moved behind you once again, the bed frame creaking a bit with that as his cock hit that spot inside of you that made you grasp at the side of his face in desperation, his thrusts becoming that much more purposeful, more attune to your reactions.
The compliment that had gone vaguely unnoticed, at least in your perspective, was driving him crazy to the point where Driver became irrationally focused on your pleasure, determined not to understand every nuance and sensation. He needed this more than he could tell you, so he was going to show you.
summary: You're inexperienced and open up that secret to Lando. From the moment you admit that you want his fingers and dick inside of you he is on a mission to make it worth it. He'd only let himself have you if he can make you ruin the sheets.
fem!Reader x Lando Norris (4.2k)
Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, first time, fingering, squirting (the actual Kinktober prompt for this), inexperienced reader, reader can blush, bit of angst about being inexperienced, awkwardness, idiots in love, friends-to-lovers, overstimulation, I'm really proud of this one aaaah
"Wait, you're the same age as me, this gorgeous and still a virgin? And you're telling me it's not by choice?" Lando looked at you exasperated in his big hoodie and sweatpants. You were sitting on his couch with him after trying out Split Fiction together. Somehow the conversation had turned from this game to the last game of the same developer 'It takes two', then to the topic of marriage and then to the fact you'd never gotten remotely close enough for that with anyone. You'd become friends only in recent months and you always waited longer with that piece of information. But in this case it would be even more devastating to see him react badly, because you couldn't deny the crush you had on him that you wished you could just get past already.
"Yup. Never even been asked out on a date." His jaw went slack, incredibly offended on your behalf.
"But you're, like, such a pretty girl?" You shrugged, "I also don't take shit. Maybe that energy scares them off."
He mustered you neutrally, "Love, that's never held most men back from trying."
You shrugged, "Meh. Maybe I'm just not meant to be with someone currently and the universe is protecting me."
He frowned a little at that, "You really think that?"
You looked at your hands in your lap, "I mean with how most men have treated my friends I'm almost a bit glad?"
You saw him nod in your peripheral vision, "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You deserve someone who will appreciate you and doesn't just, I don't know, see you as some sort of decoration."
You have him a thin-lipped thankful smile, "Yeah. Either that or nothing."
He pulled his knees to his chest in the silence, "You afraid of staying single forever?"
You mustered him, "I mean, not really. I'm really happy alone most of the time. Just sometimes wish I had someone when shit hits the fan." He nodded like he understood. Your mouth opened, then closed, then you said it, "But it does kinda fuck with my head that nobody's ever even tried to kiss me. Makes me feel like something's wrong with me."
There was shock and then a pang of pain in his eyes for a split second, then a frown of worry, "Nothing's wrong with you. Nothing. I promise."
You nodded with your eyes back on your fidgeting hands.
He sighed, "That's actually bloody infuriating to hear. Sure, you have a knack for bullying men around you but nobody's ever stopped and thought 'hey, let me ask that one to hang out'? Fuckin' mental."
You huffed with a smile, "I don't even get asked if I have a partner or anything, so like, people don't even seem to vaguely think about it. But then again, I've never been someone that is at a lot of social events."
His jaw tensed, "Yeah, I see how that messes with your head."
You nodded, "Everyone wants to be wanted."
He moved a bit closer, arm snaking around your waist, head landing on your shoulder, "You're an angel. Don't let men's collective stupidity get to you."
You chuckled, "I'm sure the right person will be worth it."
He peeked up at you, then nodded. You leaned your head on his, smushing down his curls.
Curiosity won out in his head, "D'you have a crush on anyone currently? You know, like, what kinda things do you like in people?"
You sighed, "Yeah. I haven't had one in a while. The current one, uh, I don't know. Gentle, chaotic, cute. I definitely prefer men radiating neurodivergent energy. But soft and careful. You know? Like, will dance in the living room at 2am but will take care of me appropriately when I'm sick." He nodded.
"Like someone that'll just excitedly pick you up when he has too much energy but also curls up with you?"
You huffed with a smile, "Yeah. Chaos gremlin soft boy. Golden Retriever and orange cat vibes mixed together."
He chuckled, "Sounds awfully familiar."
You nodded, staying silent. He didn't have to know. He was not the only one fitting that bill.
"But like, please don't have a crush on Fewtrell, yeah?" You snorted at that, "Don't worry, he's not my type. He's a little too...self-curated. Not quite that chaotic in the ADHD sense."
Lan subconsciously pushed his curls closer against your neck, "Also not single."
You chuckled, "Yeah, I don't really crush on taken men. Not my style unless it's a celebrity crush."
There was a silence in the room. Not awkward, but also not relaxed.
"Hypothetically..." The Brit threw into the silence after a while, "...would you date someone like me? Only hypothetically, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."
You nodded, "Probably."
He wiggled a bit, clearly giddy about what he was about to say, "So...have you ever thought about it?"
You peeked down at him on your shoulder with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, "Sure."
He frowned confused and looked back up at you, "Wait, really? I was just joking."
You shrugged with your free shoulder, "I assess most people I'm close with."
"Oh? So how did I do in my assessment?" You huffed with a smile, "Pretty alright. Minus points for dropping out and being a bit too handsy when overly excited."
He giggled, "Fair points."
There was a contemplative silence.
"You definitely deserve someone less stupid than me." He was grinning saying it.
"I hate to say it, but I don't want my partner to be smarter than me. Like a specialist in some thing I know nothing about? Sure. Smarter in general knowledge? No."
He chuckled, "You hate pretentious men."
You laid your head back down on his, sighing a "Yeah."
Both of you were soaking in the comfortable little cuddle you had.
"I would date you, probably. You're a good egg." He mumbled a bit sleepy from the warmth. Your heart dropped. "Really?"
His face came up, a small frown on it, "Yeah, I mean..." His eyes nervously darted around, "You're kind of... it, you know? Why do you think I'm so bloody shocked about you being treated so oddly?"
You averted his eyes, "I don't know. I thought maybe you also... found me weird."
There was a breathy, confused, "What?" Then a "Is that what you think people think about you?"
You looked at his deeply concerned face and opened your mouth but you didn't know how to answer that so you opted for intense nodding.
He gently grabbed your face, making you look at him, "Hey, look at me. You are NOT weird. You are pretty, smart and chaotic and cute and soft, but not weird. Never weird. Okay?" You looked down and nodded.
"You're an angel. You're kissable. You're worthy of nice dates and being someone's wife." You were still averting your eyes, "Okay."
He took his hands off your face. Somehow that felt like a little stab to the heart. Part of you hoped that he'd do something to prove his words right.
He grabbed your hands in his, "...I'd prove it to you if you'd let me."
Your eyes shot up. "Not that I... fuck, I mean not that I'm just trying to prove your mind wrong out of pity. That's not...That's not my– I'm not saying that because of–" He wasn't finding the words. You frowned and angled your head sideways. "I don't want you to think that I'm just saying that to make you feel better. I mean it. You're the last person I'd want to play with. You're too fucking precious for that. I–" He sighed, "I give up on trying to say this correctly."
You gave him a soft, almost teasing smile, "You sure? Feels an awful lot like just doing it because the opportunity arose?" He heavily shook his head, "No. Nonono. I already thought you were cute before this. I promise. I just thought I'd overstep a line if I... I mean I'm not necessarily having the best reputation. I thought you'd reject me or I'd ruin a friendship that you cared about. I don't wanna be that guy... that makes you feel like he's only friends with you because he wanted to fuck you. I want to be friends if you only want to be friends. That's okay too. I promise."
He almost fell over his own words trying to explain himself so you wouldn't take anything the wrong way.
"Like, we don't– You don't have to say yes. I just– I just thought maybe– maybe you feel similar. We, uh, we can forget about the entire situation if you want. Yeah? Sometimes my mouth is just quicker than my brain."
You whispered, "I was just teasing, Lan. I was even smiling saying it, c'mon."
He blinked, then burst out, "You make me nervous, alright? So nervous. I feel like I have to think about anything I say three times before I say it so I don't look like an absolute idiot in front of you. You're so...I don't know, delicate? I don't wanna... I– especially now that I know you've never– I don't wanna ruin anything for you. You deserve the best from me and–"
"Lan... Lan..." You grabbed his chin to interrupt him.
He shut up and gave you confused puppy eyes, "I'm the one that's supposed to be nervous like that, not you."
"You're not... upset?" He asked carefully and you frowned, "No, why would I be? My crush just told me he thinks I'm precious and cute." The realization hit him, both of you blushing. "Oh, I'm stupid, wow." A self-deprecating smile formed on his face.
You chuckled at that as he mentally found his footing again, "Fortunately you seem to be into that."
Now you were laughing, "Your specialt–" You were cut off by his face softly melting against yours like a puzzle piece.
His hands were gently holding you, more firm than he usually was when he casually touched you. Gently you were pushed to lay down with him, his hand on your jaw softly directing you in what to do and where to move. His tongue slipped into your mouth and he was patiently showing-by-doing. You were both panting, humming and sighing into each other's mouths. He let up from you, forehead against yours, "See? Nothing wrong with you."
You giggled at that, "Yeah."
He pushed a soft kiss onto your swollen lips, "Lemongrass lip balm is a new one." Now you were laughing.
He took the opportunity of your head falling back to press kisses along your jawline, then behind your ear, "Can I make a mark?" His soft voice was in your ear with a sense of familiarity. "Mhm."
You felt the sensitive skin of your neck being gently pressured as he drew circles in your hair with his thumb.
You sighed and relaxed your body, "I like it." He hummed in response, still not done. His other hand grabbed yours off his neck and softly pinned it down, squeezing you fingers softly in a reassuring manner. He let go of you, whispering a chills-inducingly soft, "Mine."
"Yours, huh?" You raised a brow and he pushed himself up to meet your eyes. A slightly nervous smile and lip-bite was directed at you.
"Damn, I really do make you nervous." You giggled and hid your grin behind a hoodie paw.
"You do." He smiled feeling caught and gave you a peck on your cheek.
You attentively looked at his lovey dovey eyes that were directed down at you, "What's on your mind right now? What d'you wanna do?"
He made an innocent face, "Kinda wanna kiss you dizzy."
You were still hiding behind the sweater paw, "That's it?"
There was a playful glint in his eyes, "Why? D'you wanna do something else?"
Your cheeks heated up, "Nope. Not at all."
He dove back to your neck, pressing kisses into it, "Talk to me, baby."
You sighed, "Have you ever thought about it?" You felt the smile against your neck, "Many times."
"In– In what way?" One of his hands firmly grabbed into your waist, "D'you mean what I imagined or in which context?"
You answered breathy and almost inaudible, "Both."
He whispered, "Tell me if you did first."
"Yes." You could feel the big grin and then heard a "Not so innocent, huh?"
He pressed more kisses into your skin, "I've thought about you in that orange dress from the beach afterparty you came to an abnormal amount of times when getting off."
Your body tensed at that, "Yeah?"
"Yeah. And that one picture you posted where you're wearing my merch hoodie." He softly bit you. "And that one time you wore that red swim suit. God, dunno how I survived that day."
He littered your collarbone with kisses, then murmured a, "What's been going through your pretty head?"
He went in for another hickey, this time grabbing you closer firmly. You hummed, "Just imagined what you'd feel like." His hips softly rolled against yours and you felt what you had done to him. It made you nervous, but it made you confident a bit more than it made you nervous. "Just you inside of me. Gosh, your big fingers or your dick honestly." He pressed himself against you with a hum that sounded like purring.
"Bloody hell, I wanna ruin you until you squirt all over my bed." He forcefully grabbed into your hips, listening to your gasp.
"Don't deserve you if I can't make you do that." He sounded possessive, strained, needy.
"Please." You whimpered, hand in his hair as he kissed across your cheek to your mouth.
He looked at you intently, cheeks flushed and lips pink, "You sure?"
You nodded, "Just don't disappoint me." You both grinned at each other before he grabbed you off the couch and into his bedroom.
With your legs still around his waist you got rid of your hoodie. His eyes suddenly forgetting where your face was. You giggled, "Don't run into something."
He bit his lip with a grin looking up, "My bad, they're just really..." He squeezed your thighs he was holding.
"Meh, I could do with less of them." You shrugged as he set you both down in the bed.
"They're fucking nice though." He took his hoodie off. His face clearly thrown off by how you kept looking at his eyes. You didn't care much for how his body looked, you liked HIM, his stupid cute face and the way he talked.
"Are you...more of a visual or sensory person?" He asked leaning back down to you.
"Sensory, I'm pretty sure. At least I don't really care for the visuals in anything porn-related." You shrugged.
He nodded, "Alright. Do you like when I do this?" He traced your skin above the hem of your sweatpants and your muscles reacted. "Mhm."
"If you feel more comfortable at any point closing your eyes, do it, yeah? I know this feels awkward the first few times." He mumbled after kissing you behind your ear.
"You're so gentle." You sighed and he huffed, "Of course, you're precious."
His mouth left marks on your collarbone before he captured your lips again, making you go dizzy.
You could feel how badly he wanted his body between your thighs as he pressed his whole body against you.
"Lan, please." He huffed with a soft grin, "You okay with me taking your clothes off?" You nodded at his endeared facial expression. You trusted him. More deeply than you expected.
He was so gentle with his fingers going under the hem of your sweatpants and panties. Eyes focused on not hurting or scratching you.
You could watch him process you visually like a gift being unwrapped. He looked, nervous? Excited, in love, definitely horny, but also nervous.
He swallowed, "Fuck, you're gorgeous." He crawled to lay down next to you. Kissing you as his hand wandered around your lower abdomen and inner thighs.
You whined a little impatiently and he chuckled into the kiss before his hand started massaging your clit. A gasp escaping you.
"Tell me if something feels bad or painful, yeah?" He murmured as you melted into the pillow. He listened to the way you were breathing, watched the way your face and body reacted.
"Relax, baby. 's that good?" He muttered as you were starting to shake a little. "Mhm."
"You okay if I put my fingers inside of you?" You whined in response and he huffed amused and accomplished as he started gently pushing two fingers into you.
He curled them inside of you, trying to figure out where you needed him most. The heel of his hand pushing against your clit with each movement.
"I don't–" You sighed, "–come from penetration."
He kissed your cheek, "Got it, but let me at least see if I can prove you wrong."
You chuckled, before softly moaning at what he'd just done. He pressed the same spot again, your jaw became slack. "Don't underestimate these hands, baby."
Your soft spot was so deep inside of you, toys made for it probably had a weird time reaching it right and you yourself definitely couldn't. But he and his giant hands definitely could.
"That feels so good." He kept doing it, watching your arch your back and tense your muscles.
"Gooorgeuous. My god you're pretty when you stretch your body out like that."
"Please, Lan." You whimpered and he kissed your cheek, movements becoming faster as you started panting and whimpering for him.
"C'mon, need you all soaked." He spurred you on before you started breathing uncontrollably deep, squeezing his fingers inside of you.
"Pretty girl. Let me make sure you're comfortable with me." He pressed a third finger into you, massaging you open.
"So soft." You whispered and he gave you a kiss.
"Always, baby. You need to be comfortable."
"That felt so good." You mumbled.
"If you're patient I'll manage to hit that spot the way you want." You squirmed and had him chuckle.
"And once you do?" You asked breathy with your eyes closed.
"Depends on what you'll want, hm?" He nuzzled your face before his fingers left you and he grabbed something out of his nightstand. No surprises there.
"Out of curiosity." He was still busy with protection, "How wide can you spread your legs?"
You peeked your eyes open at him with a smirk before demonstrating it to him, "Jesus Christ, bloody hell."
"You're certainly going to hell for sending me to heaven." You joked and he snorted.
He crawled between your legs, grabbing a throw pillow and pushing it beneath your lower back.
"Good lord, I could eat you up." He commented looking down at you. You chuckled before he grabbed your thighs the way he wanted them. "Relax, baby. I got you. Tell me if anything hurts."
He started pushing into you in gentle motions, drawing circles into your skin where he was holding you.
"That okay?" His voice was strained asking.
"Yeah." You sighed, having expected more pain instead of the slight stretch you were feeling. He leaned down to be face-to-face with you.
"And? Feels how you imagined?" He grinned and you opened your eyes with a soft laugh, "The man attached is gentler than I expected."
He huffed, kissing you softly, "Can I move or do you need a bit?" You nodded, "Need you to find that angle, huh?"
You were smirking at each other before he kissed you again and started softly moving with you.
His hands adjusting your angle, his hips adjusting themselves. Both of you panting at the sensations. If felt unfamiliar yet comfortable being connected with someone else.
Your body let out an uncontrolled moan before you caught up to the fact he'd found the right spot.
"Now, do you want me to be gentle or do you want me to show you what I've been thinking about?"
You giggled, "Both."
He smiled at you, "Alright, but don't feel guilty if you can't finish, yeah? I'll take care of that."
You nodded as he started more pointedly thrusting into you. He made you a whimpering mess for several minutes, your hands grabbing into his shoulders.
"You're everything I imagined." He murmured before whimpering himself. He slowly became a little rougher, soft moans spilling out of you, then him.
"You're doing great, baby." He cooed as he started pounding into you. You moaned in the neediest way you didn't even know you could.
"That's right, baby." He spurred you on as you clawed into his back.
"Don't stop." You whined and heard how much his movements where shacking you.
"I got you. Let go, I got you." He pressed out between pants. You felt like you were losing your mind, head squirming in the pillow, "I can't– oh my god, I–"
With a forced inhale your body locked up under his as he kept going.
"Just like that, baby." He got out before he himself stuttered in his movements.
"Just like that." He stilled inside of you, kissing you with a gentle intensity you didn't expect.
"I didn't think I could... do that?" You uttered still catching your breath. He was smiling, "Love proving you wrong about your own body."
You giggled at that, but then he became serious, "No seriously, let me see if I can make you squirt."
He seemed determined, you were a bit speechless.
"I need your permission to try. Might feel a bit...too much. But I meant it. I won't let myself have you if I can't make you do that."
"What if I can't?" You nervously bit your lip.
He gave you a soft smile, "I'll try another time."
"What're you gonna..." He smiled wider, "I mean I'll keep attacking your sweet spot. The overstimulation might feel like too much. It's a bit stressful on the body. Did you drink enough today?"
You blushed hard, "Uh, yeah."
"Can I try? You can tell me to stop. And if it doesn't work we can try with toys another time, yeah?" He was so eager, you didn't even want to say no. You felt safe.
"Okay."
"Alright, just relax. I need nothing from you other than you feeling good and relaxed and into it." He smiled and you mirrored him, cupping his face, getting kissed another time.
Not even five full minutes later you felt what he meant. He felt good inside of you. Hitting your soft spot just right, but your body hadn't quite calmed down from the last high. It felt simultaneously too much and like there was a pressure building inside of you.
"Relax baby, I know. You're safe, breathe." He repeated at the whiny moans you gave him.
"Breathe." He said with all the softness he could muster while still thrusting into you.
"Lan..." He looked at you with all the attention.
"Over– whelmed." You teared up.
He kissed the tears away, "Good overwhelmed?"
You nodded and he kept going.
The marks on his back turned a deeper red as he pounded into you. Your moans became loud and prolonged. Begging both him and your own body to finish you. You could hear how obnoxiously wet you were.
"C'mon baby. Relax, I know you can." He roughly got out.
Something inside of you snapped as he relentlessly pounded into your g-spot and your lungs made you hold your breath as you felt your body physically finish on him and the sheets. He fucked you through the waves of wetness attacking him before he groaned into your neck burying himself deep into you.
"Didn't expect you doing it that quickly." He chuckled. "Do I make you feel that safe?"
You normalized your breathing, "To be fair, I've never had a g-spot orgasm before today, much less three in a row. The statistics were with you." He snorted at that.
He was laying on you, thumb circling your hair, "My girl." You giggled, "Yeah."
He nervously licked his lips, "So, uh, date tomorrow?"
You laughed at that, "Lan. C'mon."
"Yeah, my bad, might be weird to be nervous asking that after I made you ruin my sheets." He paused, "And while I'm still inside of you."
You snorted, "You're such a boy."
"I heard you're into stupid ones." He grinned and kissed you before leaving your body.
After you had showered, you had put on your panties and his giant hoodie. Sitting back down on the couch with him. A fond look directed at you as he picked up a controller for round two.
"Eating out?" He mumbled and you raised a brow making him giggle uncontrollably. "That's not what I meant."
"Dumbass." You chuckled, "I could go for a pizza."
He grabbed you into the center of his crossed legs and you ordered together. The evening was spent leaned against him as he was leaned against the couch. Arms around you with a controller while you held your own.
Split Fiction, pizza and a new boyfriend. Sounded like a good way to spend your time.
Kinktober Masterlist
a/n: legitimately I don't know where these 4k words came from but I think this is the softest smut I've ever written and I need y'all to validate the fuck out of it, k thx bye!
Summary: Lando Norris embraced his now-public relationship as a chance to openly and unapologetically adore his girlfriend. Fans saw it as a win—though it came at the cost of Max F constantly getting roped into their antics.
Words: 4.8k
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, suggestive dialogue
part 1 | part 3 | part 4
Protect Max
Fans were absolutely loving how Y/N had become a bigger part of Max’s streams. They got to see a side of her they’d never caught on social media and beyond the glimpses from the paddock with Lando.
It was just another day of chatting and gaming for the two during a break between races, the pair sat in an ever familiar room in Lando's place in Monaco, but with him absent as Max had mentioned he went out for training.
"We just agreed on not using grenades you cheat! Lando's rubbing off on you way too much. I don't like it" Max exclaims as his character on Counterstrike once again, gets killed by Y/N less than a minute into the round.
"Oh go cry about it Max, just admit I'm better than you" Y/N smirks as she grabs her water bottle to take a sip
"You cheated! I got absolutely knocked by that"
"Fine! You big baby, no grenades this time, promise" Y/N groans as they start another round
"they're so sibling coded"
"not bob getting dethroned from being Max's gaming partner"
"she's so gonna beat Max again this round"
“Okay, chat, no need to rub salt in the wound—by the way, I was the one who taught you how to play, you should be grateful—shit!”
Max was mid-sentence when Y/N sniped him, knocking him out of the game and securing yet another win—this time, fair and square.
“The student becomes the master,” she smirked, leaning back in her chair, clearly enjoying the moment.
"What's going on here?" the mic picks up Lando's voice before he even enters the frame.
"I'm absolutely dominating on counterstrike—did you just get back?" A playful smile spreads across Y/N's face as Lando walks into the room, standing behind her chair and gently massaging her shoulders.
"I've already showered and everything. Been here the past 30 minutes, you two were too busy bickering—I could hear you all the way down the hall," Lando chuckles, looking down at her with a cheeky grin.
He leans in, but Y/N quickly shifts away, avoiding the kiss.
"You're avoiding my kisses now?" Lando teases, his mouth hanging open in mock surprise.
"The stream, Lan..." Y/N mutters, a little pout on her lips, making Lando laugh softly.
"Alright baby, for our eyes only, yeah?" Lando smirks, leaning back down while reaching for the camera, his hand covering it just in time to hide their kiss.
"Hello?! My eyes! My eyes! What about Max’s eyes?!" Max's shout makes the two burst into laughter as Lando pulls his hand away, revealing Max’s face, twisted in utter disgust.
"lol poor max"
"bet he misses P a lil extra today"
"i think im going to cardiac arrest they're so cute"
The night before testing in Bahrain, Lando hopped onto Max’s stream for a few rounds, confident as ever. After absolutely schooling Max, he decided it was time to call it a night, shutting down his setup and stepping away.
What he didn’t step away from, however, was the chat.
Curled up in bed, phone in hand, Lando lurked—dropping smug messages every few minutes. No matter how much Max tried to ignore him, chat was loving it, egging Lando on as he tormented his friend from the shadows.
" 'Just take the L—' Mate, I did take the L. You’re the one still lurking in chat," Max laughed, shaking his head as yet another message from Lando popped up. "You have testing tomorrow, by the way."
Then, a new message appeared.
"Ed said he let you win this morning."
Max smirked, grabbing his phone. Without a word, he held up a finger to the camera and pressed dial. The stream went quiet as he waited. After a few rings, a familiar voice came through the speaker.
"Hey, Y/N, you alright? Sorry if I woke you. You’re in Bahrain with Lando, yeah?" Max finally said, his grin growing wider at the thought of absolutely snitching on his best friend.
"Hey, Maxie. No you're good, just in the other room catching up on work. Lando went to bed about an hour ago. Everything okay? Do I need to wake him up?" Y/N sounded concerned.
"Yeah, 'bout that... he’s wide awake, actually—just finished streaming golf with me. Wouldn’t leave my chat."
The pause on the other end was almost too satisfying. Max leaned back, waiting patiently, his smirk never fading. The sound of rustling and soft footsteps had him turning up the volume, bringing his phone closer to the mic. He even covered his mouth, stifling his laughter, determined to catch this golden moment in all its glory.
"bro is cooked"
"oh no she's mad"
"not max snitching on lando AGAIN"
"You’ve got testing tomorrow, Lan."
"Fucking snitch, Max! Grow up!" Lando’s voice barely made it through, muffled.
"You said you were going to bed an hour ago," Y/N said, clearly not amused.
"Baby, I am in bed," Lando mumbled, his tone defensive.
"You were just playing with Max—"
"—For one round, my love. I’m in bed now, aren’t I?"
"Don’t play me, Norris. Go to sleep, or I’m taking your phone away."
“How am I supposed to sleep without you next to me, huh?” Lando’s voice was full of fake desperation, stretching the words out like he was pleading for a lifeline.
“Right, well, now I’m about to throw up,” Max interrupted, cutting through the conversation with his dry humour.
"Fewtrell, you knew better. shouldn't have entertained him when he asked you to play."
"yeah that's right! you get him baby"
"Didn't I say go to sleep? I'm telling Jon about this tomorrow"
"This isn't over Max!" Lando manages to shout before the line cuts.
Lando, Max, and Y/N had been best friends long before Lando and Y/N started dating, and though Lando loved how well his girlfriend and best mate got along, there were times when his jealousy got the best of him.
"Baby, come on. You've been playing with Max forever!" Lando whined, his voice dripping with playful frustration. Both Y/N and Max paused their game, turning to see Lando dramatically sprawled out in the chair behind them, looking all sorts of pouty.
"Lan, you’ve been glued to your phone for the past two hours," Y/N teased with a laugh. "We’ve asked you to join us, like, a million times"
"That’s different!" Lando huffed. "I need you. Did you not miss me? It’s the first time we’ve seen each other in a week!" He gave them a puppy-dog look, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his adorable pout.
"A week’s not that long, mate," Max teased, unable to resist poking fun.
"Shut up, you dickhead. I wasn’t talking to you," Lando snapped back, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're only saying that because P’s been with you the whole time."
"Y/N is literally 6 feet away from you—" Max shot back, raising an eyebrow.
"—Yeah? And you’re about 6 feet away from getting punched," Lando retorted, his playful threat making everyone laugh.
"You’re so easy to wind up," Max said, shaking his head in amusement, clearly enjoying Lando's reaction.
"Very mature, you two," Y/N spoke up, watching the back-and-forth between Lando and Max with an amused smile.
"Baby, please, can we kick Max out? I need some me and you time," Lando groaned, rolling his chair closer to Y/N, his eyes full of exaggerated desperation.
"Lando, chat asked her to join my stream today," Max protested, raising an eyebrow. "You’re really gonna steal her away from them?"
"They’re stealing her away from me right now," Lando shot back, narrowing his eyes playfully at the camera.
"Alright, you big baby, one more round, then we'll leave Max alone," Y/N chuckled, turning to face Lando and gently running her hand through his hair.
"No. Now," Lando pouted, shamelessly showing just how needy he was, making Y/N laugh as she gave him a soft, teasing look.
"I'm about this close to bleaching my eyes and ears, mate," Max teased, smirking at the chaos unfolding.
"I'm about this close to kicking you out of my flat—" Lando leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at Max.
"—OKAY. Chat, my kids are throwing tantrums now, I think it’s time for me to go," Y/N sighed in defeat, sitting up straight with a playful roll of her eyes. "You two are impossible." She gave both of them an exasperated but affectionate look, knowing she’d have to be the voice of reason.
"boooo! not bob stealing y/n from us"
"NOOO don't leave Y/N"
"LN being selfish lol"
"hes neeeedy"
Max let out a laugh as he read through the chat, clearly enjoying the chaos. "They're booing you, mate—yeah, chat! That's right! He’s stealing Y/N from us!" Max egged them on, his voice full of mischief.
Just as Y/N stood up from her seat, ready to leave, Lando grabbed her arm, pulling her back down onto his lap. He held her firmly by the waist, giving her a quick kiss.
Y/N gently shoved him, standing up again with a soft laugh, trying to hide the flustered look that had crept onto her face from his sudden move. Lando, now sporting a proud smirk, looked straight at the camera. "Gotta take my girl back now, chat," he said with a playful wink. "We’ll see you guys next time."
"Did you get the code? I sent it to you on WhatsApp," Lando said, setting his phone down and turning his attention back to his screen as he finished setting up the game.
"Yep, got it. We're using in-game mics, yeah?" Max replied, joining the lobby.
Before Lando could answer, a soft knock echoed through the room. He instinctively pulled off one side of his headphones, swiveling his chair to find Y/N standing by the door.
"I'm heading out now, bub" her voice carried through the mic, chat flooded with messages about how soft Lando’s gaze had just turned.
"Look at you all dressed up—where are you headed, my pretty girl?" Lando smirked, leaning back in his chair, eyes shamelessly trailing over his girlfriend.
A blush crept up Y/N’s cheeks as she shifted on her feet, slightly embarrassed by her boyfriend’s proud declaration. "I’m having lunch with Alex today, remember?"
"You look beautiful, my love," Lando murmured, his grin widening before turning back to his stream. "Chat, doesn’t Y/N look absolutely stunning?"
"Maate, start the bloody game!" Max groaned, dragging out the words in frustration.
Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Alright, Lan, I gotta go—they're arriving soon."
"Alex is picking you up?" Lando asked, tilting his head as he kept his eyes on her.
Y/N nodded. "Charles offered to drop us off at the restaurant. I'll bring you home food, and I’ll send you the menu when I get there."
Lando’s expression softened. "Have fun, my love. Text me if you need anything."
"Got it. Bye, chat—" Y/N smiled, giving a small wave as she stepped out the door.
"—What?! Hey, hey, no! Come back—baby, my kiss!" Lando whined, nearly pushing himself out of his seat, watching her leave with a dramatic pout.
She let out a playful groan but stepped back into the room, making her way toward Lando.
"Look at her, everyone—stunning," Lando grinned, taking her hand in his. "Alright, bye, gorgeous. Have a great time."
Y/N smirked, holding her hand up to the camera—mimicking the way Lando had covered it on a previous stream—before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.
"Thanks for that, Y/N, really appreciate the modesty," Max's voice rang through Lando's headphones, dripping with sarcasm. "Hope you do that to my eyes next time, yeah?"
Lando had been on Twitch for a good hour now, casually playing UNO with Max and a few other friends on who were on Discord. It was all easygoing banter, a way to kill time before diving into a more intense Tarkov session.
Y/N walked in not too long after, carefully balancing plates of food in her hands. Without looking up from his screen, Lando muttered a quick, “Thanks, love,” too focused on his cards to even glance her way.
It wasn’t until the chat suddenly exploded with rapid messages that his attention flickered toward the comments. His brows furrowed, eyes scanning the screen.
"hi Y/N"
"okay hot mama!"
"Y/N you look stunning babe"
"can Lando fight?"
“‘Can Lando fight’—chat, what the fuck?” he scoffed, finally turning his head toward his girlfriend.
And then he saw it.
The slightly cropped, low-necklined tank top hugging her in all the right places, a sight he was very much happy to see, just not so happy to share with the rest of the world.
His reaction was instant. “Baby… where’s the rest of your shirt?” Lando whined, reaching out to tug at the hem of her top as if he could magically make it longer.
Y/N only laughed, swatting his hands away. “It’s literally just a tank top, Lando.”
“Yeah, and apparently, it’s starting fights in my chat.” He shot a glare at the screen before narrowing his eyes at her playfully.
As Y/N stood up, completely unaware of the way the camera was angled, she leaned forward slightly to grab something from behind the monitor.
Lando, ever vigilant with his quick reflexes, moved faster than ever, one hand darting out to cover her chest while the other reached for the mouse, ready to slam the stream off if necessary.
“Woah, woah—baby! Careful, please,” he blurted out, eyes wide as he practically shielded her from the world.
Connor’s laughter echoed through the call. “LN’s about to have a heart attack, mate.”
Y/N, finally realizing what had just happened, let out a soft laugh as she sat back down, napkins now in hand. “I was just grabbing these, bub. Calm down.”
Lando let out a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest like he’d just lived through a near-death experience. “Baby, please, I’m begging—could you put on a hoodie or something?” His voice was almost desperate, eyes flicking between her and the chat that was going absolutely feral.
Y/N raised a brow, arms crossing over her chest. “You’re overreacting.”
“Yeah, well, they’re not getting a free show,” Lando huffed, shooting a glare at the screen before rolling his eyes. With one last grumble, he finally turned his attention back to his game, picking up his fork to dig into dinner—all while side-eyeing the chat every few seconds.
Meanwhile, Max was wheezing through his mic. “I swear you just aged five years.”
Connor chuckled. “Bro’s fighting battles no one else can see.”
"still cant believe he was able to pull her"
"Y/N leave him be with me"
"she looks unreal"
"lando better know how to fight"
Lando didn’t say a word, just stood up abruptly and rushed out of the room, leaving his friends confused as his turn in UNO was about to run out.
“Where’s he gone now?” Max muttered, clicking onto Lando’s stream, only to see Y/N sitting there, casually eating and playing in his place.
She simply shrugged, unfazed, taking Lando’s turn for him as she popped another bite of food into her mouth. A few seconds later, Lando reappeared, arms full, determination set on his face.
“Pick.”
“Huh?” Y/N blinked up at him, mid-chew.
“Pick one. Shirt, hoodie, or blanket?” He stood in front of her, dead serious, holding up the options like this was a life-or-death decision.
Y/N let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Baby, pick.” Lando repeated, unwavering.
“Lan, it’s really not that—”
Before she could even finish, he had already tossed the clothes onto the floor and made the executive decision himself, unfolding the blanket and draping it over her shoulders. “Right, blanket it is.”
Y/N sat there, wrapped up like a burrito, staring at him in amused disbelief.
Max was howling through the mic. “Mate, she’s looks like she's about to go to bed”
Lando glanced over at her, a proud grin spreading across his face as he admired his work. “There. Better,” he said, his tone smug but warm, clearly pleased with himself for making sure she was all cozy and covered up.
Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he was about it, “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she teased, tugging the blanket a little lower, enough to free her hands.
“I’m just making sure you’re comfy,” he replied, his grin only widening. “Don’t want you catching a chill, do I?”
She shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes, but the smile she gave him was all warmth. “You’re something else, Lan.”
Lando only winked, clearly pleased with his efforts. “I try.”
It had only been a couple of weeks since Lando and Y/N had last been seen together in public, but the internet had exploded. Breakup rumors, theories about a fallout, and even claims of a “divorce era” started circulating among fans. Of course, Lando and Y/N found it all utterly ridiculous. But why not have a bit of fun with it?
Tonight, Max was streaming, and Lando was, as usual, by his side. The chat was absolutely flooded with questions and speculations, with fans wondering where Y/N had gone, why they hadn’t seen them together lately, and if they were still a couple. Usually, they wouldn't entertain it, but Lando couldn’t help but grin at the chaos as Max glanced at him, his face filled with mischief.
“Mate, you’ve been dodging questions for weeks now. People are asking if you and Y/N are okay. What's going on? Is it true? Are you in the ‘divorce era’ now?” Max teased, his voice full of drama.
Lando leaned back in his chair, groaning. “Oh don't even say her name around me. We're happily separated,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. He watched as the chat went wild, fans speculating whether he was joking or not.
"this is NOT funny im fighting for my life over here"
"i honestly cant tell if hes serious pls"
"stop asking ab their personal lives guys"
"theyre clearly fine, look at him"
"oh theyre fine lol"
Max laughed, clearly enjoying it. “Heard it here first chat, there you go”
Lando shrugged dramatically. “Sometimes, I still hear her voice"
Before Max could respond, the door behind Lando opened. Y/N walked in casually, wearing one of Lando’s hoodies, hair up in a messy bun. She stopped when she saw the camera, raising an eyebrow at Lando’s ridiculous grin.
“Hey, guys,” she said, giving the camera a casual wave.
"See! it's like she's still here” Lando pretends to wipe a tear
Max burst into laughter, while Y/N, confused as ever, attempts to read the chat. "Why are you guys talking about me like I've died?"
Lando looked at her with all seriousness. “Baby please. We're broken up remember, gosh keep up will 'ya"
Y/N nods, the expression on her face immediately switching from confused to locked in. "Oh— guys, being in this room right now pains me. I can't even look at him"
Max, lounging back in his chair with a smirk, couldn't help but shake his head. "You two were definitely eating up this breakup rumour stuff, huh?"
Lando and Y/N couldn't help but break, letting out small laughs at the comment. “Oh fuck yeah, we’ve been lying in bed, giggling like idiots, reading threads and watching tiktoks about it,” Lando said, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“We purposely stopped liking each other’s posts and hid from the public" Y/N grinned, “And had so much fun doing it,” she added, sticking her tongue out at the camera.
Max threw his hands up. “You lot deserve an Oscar for this shit”
Lando, still grinning, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, mate, you’re telling me— I had Carlos knocking at my hotel room at three in the fucking morning after reading some random breakup article online.”
It was well past 1 AM, but Lando was still wide awake, glued to his Twitch stream, deep into another round of Tarkov with his friends. The chat was slowly saying their goodnights, viewers logging off one by one—but Lando? He and the guys were more awake than ever, already planning a few more rounds like the night had just begun.
Y/N was not one to stop Lando from enjoying his alone time, but it was getting late. She had just finished yet another episode of her go-to comfort show—but sleep still hadn’t come. With a glance at the clock and a sigh, she finally got up, padding toward the other room. Maybe she could convince Lando to get some rest… or at least come fill the cold, empty space beside her.
“Baby… it’s late, come to bed.”
Y/N’s soft voice barely stood a chance against Lando’s, drowned out by his rapid-fire strategy talk and the sharp bursts of gunfire from his game. He didn’t even flinch, too locked in, too focused.
It wasn’t until she stepped closer, bathed in the soft glow of his monitors, that the chat began to stir, messages flooding in at the sight of her. Only then did Lando pull off one side of his headset, glancing up at her with a lazy smile.
“Hi, gorgeous. Thought you were asleep already,” he murmured, seamlessly giving out directions to his teammates in the same breath.
“Couldn’t sleep… You should come to bed now. It’s late.”
“I know, baby. Just give me ten minutes, alright?”
“Bedtime for little Lando?” Connor teased, earning a chuckle from Max and an eye roll from Lando.
“Shut up, Connor."
Instead of leaving, Y/N plopped down in the free chair beside him, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. She barely noticed how time slipped by—until she glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed since Lando promised he’d be done.
“Lan, it’s been 15.”
“10 more minutes, baby. Just a little longer,” he mumbled, eyes still glued to the screen.
"he's so stubborn lol"
"poor y/n"
"listen to ur gf pls lando, im sleepy but i have fomo"
Another 15 minutes passed, and Y/N, now visibly annoyed, let out a sigh. “Lando.” No pet name. Just his name. Max chuckled on the other end.
“Mate, I’d log off now if I were you. Y/N is scary when she’s tired and cranky.”
Lando glanced over, taking in her tired expression. “Baby, go to bed, you look exhausted… I’ll be there soon, okay? C’mere, gimme a kiss.”
Smooth. A clear attempt to buy himself a little more time.
Y/N gave him a blank stare, then simply nodded before standing up. No protest, no further attempts to drag him to bed. Instead, she turned to the stream with a small smile.
“Okay… goodnight, guys. Have fun playing with Lan. Goodnight, baby.”
Lando blinked, a little surprised that his plan actually worked. He grinned up at her, feeling triumphant, until she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, her lips barely brushing his ear as she whispered.
“I was gonna let you have me any way you wanted tonight… your loss.”
His smirk vanished instantly, his head following Y/N's trail, now exiting the room.
"WHAT DID SHE SAY OMG"
"look at his face she definitely said something"
"bro is cooked lmao"
"lando fumbled baaad"
Beyond distracted by what his girlfriend just whispered in his ear, he misses an opponent causing Max to get killed in game earning a battering of complaints
"Gotta log off now guys, goodnight" Lando, without saying a proper goodbye, had managed turn everything off, leaving both the game and his stream in record breaking time.
Max, watching Lando vanish without a word, quickly put the pieces together as the chat exploded with teasing. Realizing he could save his friend from some serious trouble, Max cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone.
“Bet she’s got him in trouble now. He’s probably getting an earful for keeping her waiting.” Max grinned, adding, “Man’s gonna need a serious apology when he gets off. You know how it is—no escaping when she’s upset.”
Even the chat could pick-up how he's working extra hard to save the his best friends from a PR nightmare.
"Max working extra hard tonight"
"LN and Y/N got Max sweating bullets lol his face"
"Max being the bigger man, respect"
"Theyre bout to hear an earful from max too after this"
Chat was going wild. It was a random Friday night, no announcements, yet, somehow, Lando had appeared with his own stream. Even Max, mid-game, was caught off guard when the messages started rolling in, asking him to play with Lando.
Lando, sitting in his chair, still looked like he had just stepped out of the shower, his hair damp, he wore a matching grey sweatsuit and hoodie.
“What’s going on, mate? You’re back early. Thought you two were out for dinner?” Max’s unmistakable voice crackled through the speakers as he joined the group Discord, clearly catching onto the sudden shift in the vibe.
“Aye chat, Max is here! Yeah, mate, we were, but got back home and decided to hop on,” Lando cheered, clearly stoked to hear his friend's voice.
“Loving the enthusiasm, man. You seem happy tonight. You up for some golf?” Max chuckled, amused by the energy radiating off Lando.
“We can play whatever you want, Max. Feeling really lucky tonight,” Lando replied, a grin spreading across his face.
Max raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with a teasing smirk. “You’re worrying me a bit, mate. You sick or somethin’? Bit too happy for my liking.”
Lando just kept dancing and singing along to his music, looking even more upbeat, and Max couldn't help but laugh. “Alright, what’s going on with you, seriously?”
It was as if the universe had perfectly timed it—Y/N walked into the room, completely unaware that her boyfriend had already started his stream. She was wearing nothing but the white long-sleeved button-up shirt he had worn during their date earlier that night, the one fans had captured in photos. Her hair was slightly messy, giving her a carefree, just-rolled-out-of-bed look as she casually walked in.
"Lan, did you see my cleanser by any chance? It’s not in the bathroom." Y/N stood just by the door, just enough to be in frame of Lando’s camera.
As soon as she appeared, the chat went wild, and Max couldn’t help but laugh, not even attempting to rescue them this time. “Hey Y/N, my chat's saying Lando’s shirt looks better on you than it did on him.”
Y/N froze for a few seconds, her face turning bright red before she quickly dashed out of the room, her voice still audible through the mic as she shouted, “Lando Norris, you little shit!”
Lando, in too good of a mood to keep it together, couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, chat, calm down—we’re all adults here.” He leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face as he wiped away a few tears of laughter.
After a beat, he stood up, still chuckling to himself. “I’ll be back in a minute, guys.”
He left the room, probably heading off to help Y/N find her cleanser, maybe even consoling her after the little reveal. The chat was buzzing with teasing comments, but it was clear Lando wasn’t too worried—he’d be back soon, and the situation was already too funny to be mad about.
"post sex stream is insaaane"
"man was glowing, no wonder"
"PR team fighting for their life after this"
"Landos phone bout to blow up"
"meeting being set up as we speak"
Lando returned, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he casually sat back down, as if nothing had happened. “Right, Max, what are we playing tonight?”
Max raised an eyebrow, eyeing his friend with a grin. “Look at him, so smug. Had a great night, didn’t you?”
Lando let out a laugh, shrugging nonchalantly. “Told you, mate, we went and had dinner.” He paused for a second, then winked at the camera, his smirk widening. “Just had to head home early to have some dessert.”
Ry gos characters who’s dating a single mom ( single mom has a daughter because “girl dad Ry chatters) and the reader’s daughter calls him dad for the first time
AWWWW 😭😭 well first and foremost, every single one of these boys are either literally or metaphorically falling to their knees and crying when your daughter calls him dad. but to be more specific…
Ryland tears up. Your five year old daughter looked forward to dropping Ryland off at work every single day. While you stand and wait by the car, she walks hand-in-hand with your boyfriend to the doors. It’s a sweet little habit the two started after you and Ryland began dating, and you genuinely believed it was the highlight of both of their days. One day, as Ryland drops your daughter’s hand to say goodbye before he walks into the school, your daughter says something to him before happily skipping back to you. Ryland is visibly stunned where he stands, eyes wide and misty. You don’t find out what she had said until he returns home that afternoon, still looking dazed and distracted. Your heart lurches when he recounts her words (“Have good day at school, Daddy!”). You wonder if you should apologize, but from the small smile he has when he tells you her words, you figure there is nothing to apologize for.
Holland does cry. Snot and sobs, the whole shebang. Your daughter doesn’t even call him dad directly, she says it to Holly. The two girls are coloring on the dining room table while Holland and yourself lounge on the couch watching the news. There’s a shuffling of papers and your little girl’s voice rings through the room, barely louder than the TV. “Lookit! I drew Daddy’s gun!” Holland’s head snaps around so fast you’re sure he almost breaks it. Your eyes are wide and Holly looks a little shocked too. Your daughter is oblivious to the bombshell she just dropped, continuing on with her coloring like nothing happened. The tears were instant for Holland- the man ducking his head into you chest to muffle his cries. You rub his back soothingly with a happy smile. Holland already views your daughter as his own, but it was good for him to hear that she considers him with the same regard.
Colt is just plain happy. Your daughter is pretty young when you start to date Colt, barely over a year, so she doesn’t really know life without him. So one day, when she’s sitting in her high chair after having finishing her mashed potatoes, reaching wildly for him in a clear request for him to pick her up, he’s not too shocked when she squeals “Dada!”. He just grins and scoops her into his arms, kissing her mashed potato-laden cheek with a laugh.
Lars is a little more unsure. It’s not that he doesn’t care for your daughter more than life itself, he just doesn’t know if he’s good enough to be a dad. When your daughter tugs on his pant leg one day as he washes the dishes, holding up a small package of fruit snacks and quietly requesting “Dada, open?”, he freezes. You overhear the exchange and panic, rushing over to usher her away, opening the snack yourself and worriedly watching Lars as he slowly turns back to the sink. He’s uncharacteristically quiet the rest of the day, and you have a conversation with him that night once she’s asleep. You repeatedly apologize and tell him you’ll try to stop her from saying it again but he shakes his head. “I don’t mind, it just shocked me a little to hear her say it out loud. I’m just worried I’ll screw something up.” You spend the next hour reassuring him that he’s already gone above and beyond regular boyfriend duties to love her unconditionally- Lars couldn’t screw anything up even if he tried.
Driver acts nonchalant but he’s screaming on the inside. The two are out on a drive together like they do most Sundays. She loves his car and is constantly asking to leave the house so she can ride in it. It’s not any different from their regular Sunday drives until your daughter excitedly points out of the window and squeals at something. “Puppy! Daddy look, a puppy! Did you see it?” Driver is stunned by both the sudden scream and her vocabulary choice but he’s able to recover quickly and smile at her through the rear view mirror. “I saw it, sweetheart. What do you think it’s name is?”. While she babbles away, Driver is smiling the whole drive home. There’s a puppy with a bow tied around it’s collar waiting on her bed the very next day.
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what are the geese like with a reader who goes nonverbal
i have been having a time (and by a time i mean i have gone nonverbal) so i wanted to help myself cope by imagining my geese, my little goslings, being nice to me lol
driver: honestly, if you're going nonverbal he's probably doing it right along with you. takes you home from whatever event and turns on a comfort movie on a low volume back at your shared apartment. neither of you speaks and it's exactly what you needed.
ryland grace: since this man has barely any control over his own mouth, he doesn't totally Get It at first. probably things you're just mad at him. but then you explain and he's just like oooohhhhhh. does research on it. asks you lots of questions in order to fully understand what you need from him in those moments. after he has gathered the proper findings, he is so so caring the next time you go nonverbal. getting you a little treat, explaining to others, setting you up with comforting things.
officer k: especially if you're his partner in the LAPD, he takes over the reigns of an investigation where you usually would. questioning suspects. talking with other officers on evidence. picks up...not your slack. he never calls it that. picks up where you left off. gets your work done so you don't feel even more overwhelmed.
lars lindstrom: you saw how he was with bianca. just...the fucking sweetest!!!! whispers to you so softly when you're in a social setting. tells everyone you talk to in the most normal way that you don't feel like talking right now, and knows you so well that he can mostly respond for you. but when you want him to tell someone something, all you gotta do is tug on his sleeve, and he bends over so you can whisper in his ear.
holland march: another man who does not understand what is going on for a while. doesn't understand when you go to your bedroom and close the door, needing quiet and silence even from yourself. so when he joins you awhile later with a big ole sundae to share and an apology for something he didn't do already scripted, you explain. He gets it. he wishes his mind would shut up like that with alcohol involved. leaves you to it with a melting sundae and a very awkward dad smile.
colt seavers: imagine you are at a wrap party. imagine getting overstimulated and going nonverbal during the middle of it. you're standing next to colt, who is deeply engrossed in conversation with someone else, and you just go quiet. he's a pretty social guy so he doesn't notice for a minute. but when he does? he's asking if you're okay and leading you away to a more secluded corner of the party. setting you up with a water and giving you some earbuds he carries around just for occasions like this. and he doesn't leave your side the rest of the night. people come up and talk to him still but he doesnt leave you. not for one second.
sierra six: after a particularly rough mission (maybe one where you go undercover as a couple) you go nonverbal in the aftermath. sitting by yourself, zoning out, trying to regulate. six isn't much for emotions or for a lot of talking in general, but when he notices you like that he does sit with you. no touching. no talking. not expecting anything from you. just company. you appreciate it more than he knows.
sebastian wilder: he sees you getting overstimulated at the club from across the room. his significant other waitress with shaking hands and a frazled look in their eye. you're giving clipped, short answers to customers. you don't want to be rude. you're trying not to be, but your brain and body can't take the jazz and the chatter any longer after pulling two open to closes in a row. seb pulls you to the side and offers you a pair of earplugs and a "15 minutes. then you can head out. i'll cover for you." you could cry and you almost do as you throw your arms around him.
Warnings: suggestive (Noah & Ken-ish), implied stalking (Driver), swearing (Ryland & Colt), general blood and crampy period realness
A/N: i sorted them shortest -> longest. Also i’ve never written x reader before so i hope you all like it :) they’re all pretty fluffy + established relationship
Noah Calhoun (386 words):
You’re not leaving your bed. He makes sure of it. Anything you need, he’s getting it for you. Really, he kicks himself a little because he doesn’t already have everything ready, but you know without him telling you that come next month, it will all be in place. For now, though, food? He’ll cook for you. Drink? He’ll get it for you. Water, tea, beer, anything. He’d give you his blood if you wanted it, but you seem like you’ve got enough of your own. Heating pad? Medicine? Well that’s what he’s for, he tells you, slipping into bed beside you with a contented hum. He holds you, hand splayed over your belly protectively, and kisses all over your face, your neck and shoulder, down your body and up your legs. You only get what he’s getting at when he starts laying slow, gentle kisses at the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you with eyes full of suggestion.
“Don’t be gross,” you groan, flushing at the thought, tangling your hand in his hair to pull him away, but he resists the pull with a frown.
“It’s not gross,” he insists. “It’s you.” He outlines his full case between kisses. Mostly, it’s that he loves you, but also that orgasms have got to help, since they’re supposed to make you feel good, right? And, well, you can only resist logic like that for so long.
You do swat him when he suggests a baby as a solution. “What?” he says indignantly, rubbing at his shoulder. “You wouldn’t get another one for nine months.”
The only thing he struggles to give you is alone time, but if you push it enough, he will leave you for a while, though he makes his reluctance abundantly clear. He goes into the barn and tries to work on things, but he gravitates back to you in under half an hour. You’re what he wants to focus on at the best of times, and when you’re not feeling well, neither is he. Luckily, since you’re not feeling well, he lets you be as grouchy as you want without complaint. Ordinarily, you know he would never shy away from an argument, but for about a week every month, you get your way, and he’s very happy to give it to you.
Ken (411 words):
He’s devastated. Genuinely devastated. Well, at first he doesn’t really understand what’s happening to you, but after a quick anatomy lesson, he is so upset that you wonder if maybe you’re underreacting to the whole thing.
“Don’t women have to go through enough!?” he cries to the heavens, tearing at his shirt to bare his chest to the world. Ken has no shortage of shirts and jackets that open down the middle, since he’s prone to this sort of thing. It was a lesson you’d had to learn when you taught him about the feminist movement.
“Not just women,” you remind him with a little false cheer, just to hear the aughuagh pulled from his throat as he falls to his knees in the middle of the living room. You’re on the couch with a heating pad on your belly–the thing that had prompted his questioning–and you find that his performance is actually helping with your cramps, pain shared being pain halved and all. He shuffles towards you on his knees, big watery eyes staring into yours as he far too gently places his hands on your knees, seemingly afraid to use any force lest he hurt you more. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, and one of your hands finds his bleach blond hair to pet him soothingly. Him and his theatrics.
Except, you remind yourself, his hair just grows out of his head like that. And it’s not theatrics–he really feels this strongly about your period, and about pretty much everything. It was one of the things you liked most about him. Because you were, despite yourself, very charmed by a human-sized doll who knew nothing about female anatomy or the world at large. You were so charmed, in fact, that having him on his knees between your legs was doing a pretty good job of distracting you from how miserable your period was making you. Ken adored you right back, though, leaning into your hand and sighing as he settled from just a simple touch. Kind of like a horse, ironically. Well, you think as you stroke his unfairly soft hair, human guys don’t know about female anatomy either, anyway.
After a few moments, Ken opens his eyes and furrows his brow as if struck by a concerning thought. It was so wonderful to watch him think. He locks eyes with you and says, with complete seriousness, “Is that going to happen to me too?”
Lars Lindstrom (630 words):
You two had just gotten back to his place from a date where you traipsed around the woods and sat by the lake together. You had been heavily relying on coffee and infatuation to carry you because your body was protesting. It wasn’t that you were in that much pain, but your limbs felt heavy and you were slow to respond, not that it made much of a difference to Lars. You still wanted things to be perfect despite your fatigue, since you don’t want to scare Lars off so early, but you can admit to yourself that you’re flagging a little as you lean back against his kitchen counter.
You allow yourself a moment to squeeze your eyes shut and breathe as a lazy curl of pain crests in your gut. Lars is in the bathroom, so you don’t have to hide so much, not that it really makes a difference to the cramps whether you feel them out loud or not.
“Are you okay?” You hear a soft voice ask, and you open your eyes to find Lars, pretty in the afternoon light from his window, but wearing a fretful expression as he looks at you. You twist your grimace into a smile, helped along by the image of Lars lit up like an angel, but it’s a bit too late. “You’re a little…” he trails off, tentatively waving a hand around his face. Pale? Sweaty? The gesture is too vague to say, but you have your ideas.
“I’m fine.” You’re quick to reassure him, but his brow furrows. Darn. “I’m just…it’s that time of the month, you know?” You let out a little nervous laugh. It’s uncomfortable at the best of times to tell others about this, but it’s undoubtedly worse to talk about it with Lars. His face lights up in understanding.
“Oh, okay.” He nods and, a second later, smiles at you and shifts on his feet.
Lars is a grown man. He knows, conceptually, what periods are. The thing is, you know he grew up without a mother, and the only woman he’s really close with is pregnant, so it’s not like he has a lot of practical knowledge on the matter. Plus, he’s very religious and very reserved, so how could he really get a thorough education? He knows about the blood, but he’s not quite prepared for the pain. You realize this when another cramp hits you, harder this time, and you curl into yourself, breaking eye contact and gripping his counter tighter with a hiss. You hear him take a few quick steps towards you, but he doesn’t touch you.
“I’m fine,” you repeat, sing-songy as if more cheerfulness makes it more true. “It’s just a cramp, I’m fine.”
“A cramp?” he asks, and you lift your head to watch him watch you with concern, hands twitching at his sides. “Do you need the doctor? Are you gonna be okay?” he asks, and if he wasn’t so genuinely concerned for you, you would laugh. But his concern is genuine, so you pull yourself back together with a sharp inhale, and you lay a hand over his clothed bicep, feeling the muscle jump under your touch. His head snaps to look at your hand, and you almost move away, but he only seems surprised, not upset.
“I’m okay. I promise,” you soothe, rubbing your thumb back and forth against his arm. He continues to watch your hand, and at the sound of your voice, his cheeks go pink. Suddenly, he gets an idea.
“You can watch me chop wood,” he says, finally turning back to you. “I’ll get you a chair so you can rest.” He smiles at you again and blinks hard, but he doesn’t move until you release his arm.
Driver (639 words):
He stands in the doorway of your bedroom, staring at you. This isn’t entirely unusual–you two didn’t live together, but he had gotten into the habit of quietly letting himself into your apartment to invite you out, and you had gotten into the habit of agreeing.
Today was a different story. You could tell that he had come to do just that, invite you out to grocery shop or take a drive with a casualness that suggested he’d been practicing his lines. Upon seeing you, however, his words died on his lips. You’re still in bed despite it being nearly two in the afternoon, and you know you look terrible. Your hair and skin feel greasy; you’re probably grimacing in pain because you were too exhausted to get up and take medicine, hands pressing on your uterus over the blankets; your sheets are rumpled because of all your tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position; and you’re still in your pajamas, which consist of a very large, very ugly shirt you’re too embarrassed to wear in public and some period underwear. You thank all that is holy for your foresight–you decided on period underwear after you had cried about The Very Hungry Caterpillar last night, which was something no one else ever needed to know about.
“Sorry,” you begin before he’s even had the chance to speak. Actually, he did have his chance. You’d been staring at each other for the past fifteen seconds. “I started my period and I just haven’t felt good.” You’re sort of embarrassed to say it, especially under his intense gaze, but you’ve learned it’s best to just tell him the truth. He takes in this information, eyes scanning you with singleminded focus. You watch him come to a decision, the barest hint of stoniness entering his expression as his gaze flits back to your eyes.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says with frankly unwarranted gravitas, like you’d just put a hit out on someone. Before you can ask what that even means, he turns around and leaves your apartment, leaving you feeling confused but…kind of taken care of.
He returns 15 minutes later with a small bag and a softer expression, which warms you up. He hands the paper bag to you without a word and cards his fingers through your hair almost unthinkingly, which of course makes you feel like a thousand butterflies are trapped in your abdomen, fluttery and light. It makes your next emotion all the more jarring, a cold drop in your stomach when you look in the bag.
It makes no sense for you to feel that way, really. It’s all of your favorite things. The right brand of pads, your favorite chocolate, and even some other snacks that bring you comfort. It’s just–how did he know that? You’ve never spent a period with him before. You look up at him, confused and pleased and unsettled and grateful all at once, and he smiles down at you, just one of his little ones, but still genuine, still sweet.
“You’ve got Midol in your cabinet,” he tells you in his low, soft voice, like it’s only natural he knows the ins and outs of your medicine cabinet. You’re still a little uncertain how to feel, but then he leans down and kisses your temple, and you feel like you can taste sugar in the back of your mouth. “I’ll run you a bath,” he says into your ear, hushed, but his voice is dripping with such fondness and care that you can’t help but preen under it. Then, he pulls back and he is gone again. You hear your bathtub faucet turn on a few seconds later, and you look into the bag again, unable to keep the incredulous laugh from bubbling up out of you.
Ryland Grace (664 words):
You’re sitting on Grace’s couch when you feel the Gush of doom and despair. Hypothesis: if you go to the bathroom and investigate, then there will be blood. Grace is sitting at his kitchen table grading a stack of papers, mumbling to himself and generally looking domestic and adorable, so you sneak off to his bathroom to test your hypothesis. What you find therein supports your hypothesis. Shit.
“Ryland,” you call softly from the doorway between the living room/kitchen and the bedroom/bathroom hallway situation. Your boyfriend looks up from his work, peeking at you from over his glasses. Then, he pushes his glasses up and properly looks at you, half hidden behind the doorframe.
“...Yes?” he responds with an edge of suspicion. “You look like a ghost right now. Hiding in my hallway. In the shadows. What’s going on?” He’s being semi-playful, but you can tell from the focus in his expression that he knows something’s amiss. You kind of want to stand there and watch him figure it out, brilliant scientist that he is, but the situation is unfortunately time sensitive.
“Um. So,” you start, cringing a little. You’re a fully grown adult with a job and an apartment, but sometimes Grace fixes you with a look that reminds you that he teaches middle schoolers, and it makes you a little shy. “It’s no big deal, but I just started my period literally right now, and I figured I should bring it up.” You try to force casualness, but it doesn’t fit right in your mouth, so it comes out a little sideways.
“Oh.” he says. Awesome. “Do you need a pad?” he asks. What?
“What?” you ask. You were planning to stuff toilet paper in your underwear.
“A pad. It’s a weird coincidence, but, uh, I actually have some in my bag that I keep forgetting to put in my desk at school.” he explains with helpful hand gestures to boot. You wait a beat for him to tell you he’s joking, but he does not.
“Why do you need pads at your school desk?” you ask slowly. Grace makes a face at your tone.
“Well,” he starts, clearly trying to be delicate. “I teach the age group where.” He stops, apparently realizing that he’s talking to you and not the school board. “Sometimes kids start their period in my class.” he says quicker. “Actually it’s happened multiple times. And I’m talking first period ever. So I keep pads in my desk. Also for the kids who randomly start in the middle of the day, or they can’t get them at home, or they’re embarrassed to ask the office, or–” He takes a sharp breath. “They’re needed.”
You can’t argue with that, so you concede with a slight head tilt. It probably would’ve been nice to have a teacher like that when you were in school. “Do you have any tampons, by chance?”
“I’m not giving a 12 year old a tampon,” Grace says, deadpan. Right. Duh.
“Fair. I’ll take the pad, please,” you say. Grace immediately starts rooting around in his school bag, and after a few moments, he emerges with a slightly dented box of pads. He takes one out of the box and holds it out to you, whistling like someone luring a wild beast, since you’re still lurking in the hallway. You laugh softly and cross to him, planting a kiss on his cheek as you take the pad from him, your nose bumping the edge of his frames. His cheeks are pink when you pull back with a cheeky smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Grace!” you singsong, and he groans and shakes his head, unsuccessfully fighting a laugh.
“Please, Mr. Grace was my father,” he says as you retreat to the bathroom. “Call me Dr. Grace.” He smiles at your back when he hears you cackle. Once you’re gone, he notes the day in his calendar. It’s good to collect data on these kinds of things.
Colt Seavers (736 words):
With the casual way he reacted–just a quick downturn of his lips, a tilt of his head, “Sorry, baby”–when you told him you were on your period, you figured that your evening with Colt would be peaceful. It was your mistake to think that any evening with Colt would ever be peaceful. Well, that wasn’t quite fair–things had started out like normal, with you curled into his side on the couch, head resting on his shoulder, reveling in his warmth. He had let you pick the show for tonight, even though it was technically his turn, and you figured that would be the extent of his chivalry. That is, until you grunted softly in pain, your hand coming to rest over your traitorous uterus. Ow. Your medicine had run its course. Wonderful. It wasn’t really that big of a deal, though, because Colt would be here tonight to do triple duty as a heating pad, a weighted blanket, and a boyfriend. You would be fine.
“You alright?” Colt murmurs, tilting his head to rest on yours so that he can look down your body. “You in pain?” he asks even softer, one of his hands coming to cover yours, warming you inside and out.
“Yeah, but it’s no biggie.” You shrug one shoulder, nuzzling further into him. You were way too comfy to move.
“Au contraire,” Colt says, turning his body to face you, dislodging you from his shoulder and forcing you to lean your side on the back of the couch instead. He smiles at your irritated groan, which gives you the impression that he doesn’t know you’re not joking. “It’s a biggie.”
“You’re in pain,” you counter. It’s a safe bet, anyway, given what he does for a living.
“I am in pain,” Colt says, “because you’re in pain.” He places a hand over his heart and gives you his most soulful eyes, but if you look closely, you can see one side of his mouth twitching, suppressing a smile. Good, you think. He knows he’s being stupid.
“Oh my God,” you say, fighting your own smile, “I literally don’t wanna hear it unless you plan on feeling my cramps for me.”
“I would if I could, baby,” he sighs, sliding his hands under your thighs and folding himself in half to lay his head in your lap. You sigh too, long-suffering while you rub a hand over his back. Not to be outdone, he sighs even louder, longingly. “I would if I could.”
“Shut the fuck–” you begin, covering your amusement, but you cut yourself off with a yelp when he lifts you by the back of your thighs, unfolding himself to hook his chin over your shoulder. He carries you to the bedroom, unbothered by your kicking legs and your protests that it’s not even 10 pm, and he hasn’t paused the show. In no time, he gently sets you on the edge of the bed and settles himself on his knees on the floor in front of you, big hands holding your hips.
“What are you doing,” you ask flatly, rolling your eyes when he shushes you, eyes fixed on your lower belly. Despite being a stuntman, he could be very dramatic when he chose to be.
“I have a message for the motherfucker named period cramps.” Colt says in some kind of deep, action hero type voice, and you have a sneaking suspicion he’s making a joke at the expense of Tom Ryder. “You better stop hurting innocents before I get involved.” He leans closer and closer as he speaks until his nose is against your stomach, and you feel weirdly self conscious about him possibly smelling your blood.
“You are so dumb,” you tell him, and he leans back with an easy smile. His cocky expression makes him look extra dumb, but unfortunately also really handsome. You roll your eyes again playfully.
“You’re smiling though,” he tells you with increasing smugness. You’d want to hit him if you didn’t want to kiss him.
“I am n–” You are. Son of a bitch. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumble as you grab him by the shirt collar with both hands and pull him up to you. He follows you easily, letting go of your hips to plant his hands on the mattress.
“Mm, maybe,” he murmurs against your mouth, still unbearably smug, but when your lips finally meet, you’re both smiling.
