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gomzwrites · 11 months

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The taskforce 141’s favourite steamy moments

Contain smut(18+), minors do not interact

a/n: I wanted to write something that the 141 members like the most whenever they have some spicy moment with the reader >:) so I decided to give smut writing a go! These are arranged based on length, I apologise for writing such a short one for Ghost as I was struggling to make it as gender-neutral as possible(if it still comes out as fem, Im so sorry!), maybe next time I’ll do specific gender one post at a time, but for now enjoy this mess :> Tags: xgn! Reader, dry humping/grinding, eating out(reader receiving), submissive, teasing, riding(implied sorta), biting, slightly possessive behaviour, hand job - let me know if i missed any tags reader's text is in purple PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Simon Ghost Riley - taste

Ghost likes it when you run your fingers along his hair, soft and gentle as he closes his eyes and savour the gesture. But he likes it best when you scratch his hairline and lock your hands in his short blonde curls.

Ghost has been in between your thighs since he dragged you into his room, he laps on your entrance as he sloppily licks up your sensitive sex, sinful slurping and moans filling the room. He works his tongue expertly, mixing those arousal juices with his saliva as he grunts and groans. You watch with teary, half-lidded eyes as he slowly retracts from your aching sex and trails teasing kisses around your thighs before he bites down as you jolt.

S-simon…!

You whine out his name as he hums and graze his teeth along your thighs, taking his sweet time as he watches you grow increasingly desperate, turning into a whimpering mess on his bed because of him.

He spread your leg further as he let his tongue dance against you, watching your back arches up as he moan into your sex, causing a shiver to run down your spine as his deep husky voice reverberated through your entire body. He looks up to you with those dark eyes that are blown out and filled with desire, hungrily pinning your hips down with his eyes alone.

“Be good”, was all he said before he latch onto you again as he devour you like there was no tomorrow. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

John Soap MacTavish - wants

You struggle to breathe properly as your chest is fully pressed on top of your desk, now messy and with papers and reports that are scattered about and long forgotten.

Grunts and moans filled your room as Soap has your hands pinned on top of your head, his other hand grabbing your hips, fingers digging into your hips that always leave purplish-red marks the next day.

“Fuck y/n…..” Soap slurs as he buckled his hip at your ass, both of you still have your gears and clothes on, leaving only the bulky vest on the floor as he grinds on you, so desperate, so fucking desperate.

He leans down to bite on the back of your neck causing you to moan as you feel his tongue lap at the bite marks and suck gently to soothe the flesh, now littered with goosebumps. You can feel how warm and hot he is from your back despite the layers of clothes, and you can hear his heartbeat too when he starts thrusting you faster, harsher, pressing his chest and his hips on you, as if he’s moulding your entire body as both of you are mushed together perfectly.

‘It's not enough…” he growls as he continues grinding on you, voice getting lower as he frowns and bites down on your neck again, another mark as he lets out pants of frustration, you gasp and moan at his bites as you push your hips back to meet his.

‘Yeah just like that…fuck…..fuck. me.” he lets out a deep sigh as both of you fight to push your hips towards each other to be impossibly close, you can feel it too, you can feel how he angles his hip so that every time he snaps and presses onto you, you can feel his tip poking at your entrance, making you roll your eyes back as you sob softly.

You want him, just as badly as he wants you. God it’s not enough, it’s never enough at all and yet every single fucking time, he does it still, it's too painfully good to stop, to pause this heating moment to remove some fabric, no, there’s no way he’ll stop, it's as if he’s afraid that doing so will result in these pent-up emotions and arousal slipping away.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Captain John Price - voice

John likes it when you hold back your moans and voices whenever you guys do it in his office, since his room is in the centre of the base, that means there are other rooms besides, and the walls are not exactly the thickest.

Sure, he absolutely loves your moans and the way you scream his name whenever he pounds you hard never fails to make him lost in ecstasy. But nothing riles him up more than hearing the voices you make that only he gets to hear.

He loves it when you suppress your moans, because it makes it so your voice tends to become whinier, and more desperate, reaching a pitch that sometimes has surprised him and yourself. He loves it because when you try to be quiet by squeezing your head into his neck, mouth biting on his collar as he drags his thick cock in and out of you, he gets to hear all those little gasps and pretty little moans that are barely audible.

John loves it, and he absolutely likes to break that resolve of yours, he likes to push all the buttons to see you crumble before him, and he knows when he is on the right track when you start to pant harder, and those whimper escapes more as you shakily grab onto his arm,

J-John….please…

he smirks as the pleas come spilling out from your mouth whenever you feel like you couldn't hold in your moans more.

“Awwww….too much?”

He would whisper back into your ears as he draws out each word in his deep honey voice, hands coming down on your waist before he slams it down hard on his hip, causing a startled yelp and a jolt of shiver running down your spine and let out a string of suppressed curses and moans.

He chuckles deeply, hot breath fanning against your neck when he watches your eyes tear up and your mouth opens as you let out a silent scream, still holding on as you shake your head and mutter to him, “N-no…m-my voice-” you didn’t finish your words as he clashes his mouth with yours, swallowing your pitiful pleas before biting down your lower lip as he pulls back, smirking as he bites down your shoulder.

“Let it out”, he challenges you with a raspy voice as he kisses the bite marks around your neck and nibbles softly when he coos at you, watching you squirm around as he gives you a mischievous look, oh he is going to, and will bully you until he has you screaming his name. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Kyle Gaz Garrick - hands

Kyle loves it whenever you take your time and tease him with your hands, you can feel how his thigh muscle tensed up and how he let out his breath shakily whenever you trail your finger around him. He always likes it when you start slow, gently trailing along his neck first as you kiss and softly nibble his ears, before you slip your hands down lower as you rest it on his chest, and those eyes….those big doe eyes of yours whenever you look up to him and whisper so sweetly, honey tone dripping out from your irresistible mouth absolutely drives him mad every time, and send his head into a spiral heat of want.

You like it, hm?

He gives a nod as he lay back on the sofa, completely melting under you touch as he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels your teasing hand trailing around his chest, sometimes flicking his nipples that cause him to jolt as you giggle,

Mhm, you do like it…

Fuck, you’ve barely done anything and he already feels like his losing his mind, only being able to nod frantically as words fail to come into his mind. As you slowly reach down, resting your palm just shy above his pants, his grip on your hip tightens as he desperately wants you to go lower, to give him what he wants. He loves it because you always manage to rile him up, giving some relief but never enough, it's like you knew exactly how he works.

Hmmmmm what do you want…pretty boy?

You whisper back teasingly as you brush your lips against his ear, you watch as his boxers get tighter when his arousal increases, even a small stain was visible now the more you tease him with the nickname, his favourite one, among all the other things you call him.

“Ah fuck….please y/n…”

He begs as you slowly pull down his boxers, bit by bit as he lifts his hips up on instinct to help you remove them, then you slowly let him free of these hellish restrictions, and you make sure your hand doesn't touch his hard cock that flings up as you remove the boxers, watching the red angry tip leaking as he lets out a content sigh. Yet as free as he is at the moment, he needs more.

“y/n….god…please….”

He whines softly again as you rest your hand on his V-line, trailing those deep beautiful grooves as you hum idly and press your body against his. You continue moving your hand along the V-line before you lightly ghost his cock with the middle knuckle of your index finger, running it all the way from his tip to the base.

Please what hm?

He lets out another whimper when you tease him again, trying to be good as he bites his lower lip to stop himself from flinching so much from how sensitive and needy he is, he nuzzles into your neck as he pleaded with a desperate tone, voice crackling at the end as he gulps in between words.

“Please….fuck….please touch me….touch my cock…need to feel you please….”

You chuckle as you kiss his cheek and snake your hand down to hold the base of his cock, watching him buck his hip up to seek those sweet, sweet friction. Who are you to deny him when he begged so nicely?

Good boy~

you whisper back huskily as you wrap your hands around his length, he takes a sharp inhale and lets out a trembling moan as he slung his head back to the top of the couch, his hand holding your hips, to ground himself as you start moving your hands around his cock, sliding upwards as you wipe the precum of the tip, teasing the tip as you slowly pump your hand down and watch another string of precum leak and flow down his length, you run your thumb along that one prominent vein as you press on it slightly, the agonizing slow speed you’re doing makes Kyle gasp as he frown and grab your hips tighter,

“fuck, so good….hmm fuck your hands….ah…”, he lets out a loud moan lightly when you kiss his ear lobe, whispering sweet nothing as you attack his ear with your tongue, moaning and letting sloppy noises consume his head, you take this opportunity to reach out and interlace your finger with his other hand as well to overwhelm him in every sense.

He prays internally as he tries his best not to come right here right now, you just started stroking him but he already feels like he’s about to explode. He can’t help it when he can feel your hands, every crease of your finger swiping along his girth as you pump slowly again, god and your thumb? Whenever you use it to press down on him he swears his vision goes white for a moment.

“Don't stop….”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: yes yes I know yet another longer section for Gaz, I am, and forever will be biased towards our babygirl, YOU CAN'T STOP ME *runs*

#cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod imagines #mw2 x reader #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #smut #gomzwrites

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sabertoothwalrus · 2 years

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Art theft has always been bad, but I feel like the way tiktok promotes remixing other people’s content into “your own” has ESPECIALLY proliferated the idea that, if something is on the internet, it’s anyone’s to take.

like. My friend just found these comments on a tiktok someone made of their comic:

This is why I don’t allow reposts. Because even if I give one person permission, even if they credit me and do everything I ask, you never know who is going to steal it from them.

So here’s your reminder:

If you see fanart or a fancomic you like, you ABSOLUTELY MAY NOT share it without checking if it’s ok first.

IF YOU RUN A FAN ACCOUNT. I’M LOOKING AT YOU. YOU’RE NOT HELPING ‘EXPOSE’ ARTISTS BY POSTING STOLEN ART YOU’RE JUST BEING SELFISH AND DISRESPECTFUL. @‘ING ME ON INSTAGRAM ISN’T GOING TO FIX THE FACT THAT YOU DIDN’T ASK PERMISSION

THIS GOES FOR TRANSLATIONS. I UNDERSTAND WANTING TO MAKE A COMIC MORE ACCESSIBLE TO YOUR LANGUAGE, BUT IT’S STILL A CONCERN THAT IT WILL GET STOLEN FROM YOU (and I KNOW some people don’t ACTUALLY care about it being more accessible, because I’ve asked people to reblog my original post with a translated transcription and they threw a fit because they obviously just wanted the views for their own page)

Comic dubbers are also not exempt from needing to ask for permission. I know there’s a lot of editing and you are technically producing new content, but jfc you still need to ASK TO USE SOMEONE’S ART. ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE MONETIZING YOUR PAGE.

I also DO NOT CARE if your pinterest page is “just for your personal reference” STOP UPLOADING ARTWORK AS ORIGINAL POSTS. IF YOU MUST PIN ART, JUST POST THE LINK!!!! I die a little inside every time someone says they saw one of my comics on pinterest and had a hard time finding my actual post.

Why is it important that artists stay credited? Well, I for one, am about to start my junior year of my BFA, and I won’t be able to work my part-time job anymore. My art is going to be only source of income. Every time someone reposts my art without credit, that’s more people that won’t find the link to my store. That’s potential job recruiters that won’t find my portfolio. That’s work that I’ve done that someone else is getting activity for, potentially even making money off of.

Please, PLEASE be aware of art theft. Point it out when you see it. Please understand most artists see it as offensive and disrespectful and are not flattered by it.

#art theft #psa

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sy-on-boy · 1 month

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My fic (and others) have been voiced by AI / Text to Speech, posted on Youtube, and monetised via Patreon without permission

I have been contacted by another author who has kindly contacted the other affected authors. The infringing video is here. Here is the infringing channel and the Patreon. Stolen artwork is also used in thumbnails and videos (I recognise @meomoicecr 's work in the above video). My work (Your Hand in Mine) that is hosted on Archive On Our Own is free and it will always be free (because Ao3 does not allow monetisation and because of personal values).

From what I gathered, making a copyright claim report requires my personal information (eg. full legal name) which I am unwilling to give at the moment, so unfortunately I've just been reporting for spam / fraud, and hopefully with enough strikes it'll get taken down. I've checked the Ao3 Reddit and I know this is not the first instance of fanfiction being posted on YouTube with machine voiceover without permission.

There has been a worrying and disheartening trend of fanwork being monetised against the author's wishes, for example Dramione fics being used in illegal fic bindings and then sold. I recognise this is common sense and I'm probably preaching to the choir, but please do not "purchase" fanfiction or otherwise give money when the "source" is dodgy and unaffiliated with the fanfic authors. As stated on Ao3's Terms of Service, "Promotion of commercial products or activities is not allowed." and "In general, unsolicited commercial activity is not permitted on the Archive".

Apologies if I've gotten any information wrong as my mind is quite frazzled at the moment. But TLDR: my work and other's work have been stolen, I want to take it down.

#fandom #fanfiction #archive of our own #youtube #spy x family #<- for visibility

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bluesinnamonroll · 2 months

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These two have a very specific dynamic i really like idk how to explain it though

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casualhedonists · 5 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter three)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 3/? (MASTERLIST)

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, power play, oral sex, thigh riding, degradation, dirty talk, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

taglist: if you’d like to be tagged, leave a comment on the masterlist post and i’ll add you! 💌

a/n: thank you for your patience and condolences / kind messages over the past week i’ve been awol. i’m very happy to be back. very long, filthy and much awaited chapter ahead, so strap in and hope you enjoy the ride.

in the words of miss zegler herself: oh we are so back.

You weren’t sure how long he stared at you, smiling with a fire in his eyes that rivalled yours until it was eclipsed. A third and final time, you found yourself speechless, dumbstruck, and one final time, much like the others, you took a few shaky steps backwards, before turning and fleeing.

He knew. He’d known this whole time. How long had he been planning this? Exactly how much of this had been an act, with Snow puppeteering you as you slowly lost your mind?

You almost felt pity for the girl, because she was played just like you were. She was a mere pawn in his game of chess, where he’d toyed with you until you were backed into a corner, unable to make a move.

Well, not this time. Now you knew what he was playing, you were ready to up your game. This wouldn’t be another stalemate; you wanted to win, and you had a few ideas of where to start.

You were already up and dressed when you heard a knock at your door the next morning.

Dreading the worst – despite the fact that Snow had never actually been in your room before, but the rules had changed now and you weren’t sure quite how much – you paused for a second to prepare yourself, praying that he wouldn’t be there, ready to put a stop to your plans before they’d even started.

You fell lucky. It was one of Snow’s footmen, George.

“Good morning, ma’am. I, um.” He swallowed, not meeting your eye. “I have a message from Master Snow. He’d like for you to meet him for breakfast in a half hour, if you will. He says you have something… quite important to discuss.”

Typical Snow. Never liked to get his hands dirty. Too proud to knock at your door himself.

You considered.

“George, could you please tell Coriolanus that if I’ve already eaten, and that I’ll come to him when I see fit. If he isn’t satisfied,” you added, for his sake, as you knew Snow wasn’t above killing the messenger, “Say I have an urgent matter to tend to, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You grew a lump in your throat from your refusal, fearing the consequences. But you’d set your plan into motion now and there was no going back. Once George had been sent on his way, you snuck down the stairs on the far end of the building and slipped out the door through the servants’ quarters, where you knew Snow wouldn’t see you leave. The one upside to the last few weeks was that you’d learned how to sneak around the manor unnoticed. You were certain there were at least three hallways he’d had never even set foot in.

You had Lucille call Henry – Snow’s driver – in advance so you could leave right away.

“Where are we going, ma’am?” He glanced at you over his shoulder as you slid into the black town car.

“Head into the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Henry took some convincing – and some light bribing – to finally cave and tell you what and where this gentleman’s club was. Of course, it was a risk, a roll of the dice to go there without concrete proof, but you knew Snow. You knew his little neuroses and hang-ups, and he was paranoid; in all senses, it would seem, except when it came to you. If he’d been frequenting this club for some time – some years, according to Henry – and trusted their discretion, then you highly doubted he’d play Russian roulette and pick somewhere else.

You were dropped off outside, and sent Henry to the tailor to pick up some of Snow’s things; an excuse for the outing, but a part of your plan too. He was hesitant to leave you alone in such a place, but you insisted you knew exactly how to handle yourself, and so he gave in.

You’d deliberately dressed down for what you were about to do, worn your old coat and let your hair down with a hood pulled over it. It being daytime, the place was closed for business, but you knocked on the front door expectantly.

You waited. Went over the plan, and knocked again.

This time, the door opened and a burly man now stood between you and the inside of the brothel. Your curiosity made peek over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. My name is Margaret, sir, I’m a maid at the, uh,” You dropped your voice to a low whisper, “Snow household. I have a message for the owner of this establishment, from my master. Is he here?”

The man cleared his throat and glanced around the nearly empty street, then beckoned you in quickly.

“Anything for Mr Snow, miss. Right this way.”

There was your proof.

The empty club was a classy one, you had to give Snow that. The bar caught your eye, silver panels lining the wall behind it in an otherwise jet-black glossy room, with dark red couches and shiny tables, booths, single chairs, a stage with shiny metal poles, and a few cordoned-off alcoves.

You took it all in, certain you’d be able to appreciate the aesthetics of it more if it wasn’t for the seething rage inside you. You were stopped at a closed door near the back, and the burly man knocked.

“Yeah.” Came a voice from inside.

“All yours. He’ll take care of you.” Your guide stepped away. You pushed at the door.

A dark-haired man sat facing a desk, poring over paperwork. He didn’t look up.

“If you’re here for a job, sweetie, it’s Tuesday after 11.”

This incensed you.

“I’m not here for work. This is official business. I was told you take care of… special clients.”

He spun around, frowning.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a message from President Snow. He has a series of requests to be carried out with no delay.”

“Ah, yes. Mr Snow. I see. And you are to him?” He prompted.

“Just a maid from the household. He sent me as a messenger.”

“Excellent. Well in that case, of course, miss. How can I be of service?”

You took a breath, hoping desperately that he didn’t see right through you.

“Firstly, the shoes your girl wore.”

“What would he like with them?” He asked.

“He’d like to keep them. He’s willing to pay, and he’s not up for a price negotiation. This should cover them.” You slipped a bill across the table, and he nodded. You learned long ago that money causes loose lips, and this man was no exception.

“Of course,” he obliged, “They’re in the lockers through that door there. I’ll bring them to you. We ordered them in specially for Veronica, he made a point for her to wear them on the first floor. Usually our girls get instructions to sneak through clients’ houses quietly, but we handle every request as thoroughly as possible.” He chuckled.

That fucker. He really had planned it all out to get in your head.

“Was there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

You swallowed thickly.

Here goes.

“Yes, actually. As of today, he’ll no longer be needing your services, or her services. He’d like to terminate your contract, and he doesn’t wish to see her again. Ever.”

The owner blinked. His mouth moved, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed again.

“But, um,” he stammered, “It’s only been three weeks. Veronica is our best girl, and he’s her top client. She carried out his orders to the absolute best of her ability, I can assure you. Are you sure those were his words?”

You sighed.

“She’s getting off lucky with a dismissal. Take it as a warning, sir. President Snow doesn’t show mercy to thieves. If she shows her face again, I can guarantee you, he’ll have her head.”

His face turned plum-red with horror.

“She was… stealing?”

In a way, yes.

“She was caught by a maid last night.” You nodded, and the owner swallowed thickly.

“I – I understand, Miss. I am terribly sorry for this. I apologise that our services weren’t up to your master’s expectations, truly. Please, if there’s anything I can do- and I can assure you, I’ll be having some very stern words-”

You cut him off.

“There is one more thing, as a matter of fact."

"Anything." He pleaded.

"You can send word that… Veronica, is it? She’ll be paying him a visit this evening. But you are not, under any circumstances, to send her. Am I understood?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled. But you stared back challengingly and held your ground.

A small, sheepish smile formed on his face.

“Much obliged. I can assure you your requests will be carried out with the utmost discretion.”

“Thank you.”

He brought you the heels in a shiny box, and you turned and left.

Henry was waiting outside, and you slid back into the car.

“Get what you needed, ma’am?”

“I certainly did.”

The drive home was your chance to pick up lunch, finetune your plan, and go through the suits you’d had Henry pick up from the tailor.

They looked impeccable – crisp and creaseless, the white shirts brighter than the stars, and the maroon red jackets and waistcoats deeper than blood itself. It was one of these jackets that you chose to take upstairs with you, leaving the rest to be taken up to Snow’s room later, hoping the missing item would go unnoticed.

You retraced your way up the winding stairs of the manor. Luckily, Lucille had informed you Snow had left not long after you that morning, and was expected to be gone until evening. Nonetheless, your paranoia made you glance left, right and left again before every turn. Finally, after an exhaustingly long morning, you were back in the safety of your own room.

But the work was far from finished. You ate quickly, then began getting ready for your discussion with Snow. He hadn’t sent for you again; he was too proud. You took pride in knowing he’d be positively seething at your turning him down that morning. You kept going, showering, teasing your hair, adding a little more makeup than usual – not excessive, but enough to make a difference – then finally wandered the room as you picked your wardrobe for later.

You lay out the heels – which were a little big on you, but would serve their purpose – as well as the jacket you’d stolen, taking the time to run your fingers over the smooth maroon velvet you’d felt only briefly before, when brushing against Snow at public events. You then dug through your underwear drawer, debating between a red lingerie set and a white. You picked the latter; the tones of red would blend in with the jacket and white made more of a statement.

Innocence. If only.

You checked the time. Three hours or so until Coriolanus would be expecting Veronica. You hoped that he would be back by then, and more so, that your performance with the brothel owner had been enough to hold him to his promise of sending word. But if you’d learnt anything from Snow, it was that fear commanded respect, and better yet, obedience. So your doubts were few and far between.

In all honesty, that’s what had drawn you to Snow in the first place. It wasn’t about money; your family had money, more than they knew what to do with. It was the power, the fear. Even the richest man in the world would crumble to the ground with a gun to his head. Power trumps wealth every time, and the enigmatic, newly elected President was by far the most powerful man in Panem.

It was its own kind of thrill, pursuing a man like that. The temptation to get him wrapped around your fingers, ravenous, hungry for power, hungry for him. It all blurred together at this point, the man was like a magnet. You wondered if this thirst for more, always more, was an affliction the two of you shared. Or perhaps, an affliction you’d developed a taste for because of him. And the longer you spent at his side, the louder it began to beat in your chest like a second heart. You wanted to consume it, and let it consume you.

It thrummed in your chest now, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You fidgeted as you waited for the hours to pass, your craving growing with each second. You flicked through a few books; you drafted a letter to your mother. Each tick of the clock bringing you closer to finally taking the one thing you’d wanted since the day you met Coriolanus Snow. It was almost time for your big move.

✩✩✩✩

As enough darkness crept into your room and you stood to light some candles, you heard soft footsteps pass your door.

For a change, you recognised them as Snow’s, even and deliberate. He was home. With half an hour to spare until he’d be expecting his whore.

You jumped at the opportunity to change. Slowly and carefully, you slipped out of your clothes and into the underwear set, until you were clad in crisp white lace, with a matching garter belt as a finishing touch. You slid on Snow’s jacket – which smelled like him, of his cologne – the usual fitted shape it would give Snow now hanging loose and slack around your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. You did up the first button, tracing the neckline that plunged down your chest, leaving very little to the imagination. You slipped into the heels, checked the time, and after scanning yourself over in the mirror, made for the door.

The few worries you had about being seen by the staff were short-lived; the hallway lights were dim as you wobbled in the heels, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You weren’t sure if Snow had fallen for your plan, but what mattered was that as you turned the corner, there were lights shining from under his bedroom door. He was in there, waiting. By now, it was odd seeing it closed. You tried your best to emulate the sound of the footsteps you’d drilled into your brain, the clicks giving you a sense of power knowing Snow – apprehensive or not – would be in for at least one surprise.

Click. Click. Click.

You considered pausing before barging in, but you didn’t. When you reached the end of the hallway, seconds away from your fate, you reached out a hand, pushed Snow’s door open, and walked right inside.

Snow was there; of course he was. Facing his dresser and away from you, he didn’t flinch at the sound of your arrival. You closed the door behind you, and took a step towards him. Stared at his back, scanning his black dress pants and the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows, cufflinks on the table, blonde curls a little unruly as he smoothly poured himself a drink.

This, right here, was where the solid part of your plan ended. It was caution to the wind from here on out, and you could practically taste it, high off the adrenaline; off his presence. And he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

This was the moment of truth.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Look who finally figured it out.”

“Not who you were expecting?”

“She’d never reschedule.” he said simply, turning on his heels, eyes glinting at you. “Figured you were up to something. Drink?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

He approached you, eyes scanning your body, deliberately clad in the skimpiest underwear you owned. You figured this was as good a time as any to unbutton the jacket and let it fall open. It brushed your sides, and you watched him lower his glance, hungrily taking you in for what could quite possibly be the very first time. He wet his lips, took another sip.

There it is.

There was that power you craved, that look that you’d been aching to see in his eyes while he stared at you, and although it was fucked up, you let the pride fill your head with confidence, and stepped forward.

“Now, just where did you get that?” A slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. At least something you’d done had made an impression.

“Borrowed it. In case I get cold.” You smiled.

“Cute. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

“Oh, I take whatever I want, Snow.”

You raised your head in defiance. Proud of your voice for not faltering once.

“Clearly. Nice shoes. Borrow those, too?”

“Why, do they look familiar?” you quipped.

“I think we both know the answer to that, doll. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

You sighed, feigning exasperation. A chill crept up your legs but you barely noticed.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coriolanus. Talk.”

“Is that really what you came here for, sweetheart? Dressed like that?” He put his drink down on the dresser, not once looking away from you.

“If this is what it takes to get your attention, Snow, then yes.”

You took another step closer, and the jacket fell further to your sides, more skin slipping out from underneath for him to feast his eyes on.

“I think you know plenty about trying to get my attention. I watched you struggle for weeks.”

“Didn’t think you cared.” You muttered.

He laughed, low, more like a scoff.

“What, your childish attempts at seduction? They were pitiful at best. I’d expect that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady of your standing.”

“Thought you liked whores.” You retorted.

“They’re no fun to live with. And there you were, proving my point.”

Your eyes narrowed, and when you spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“So what, you had to go and fuck one to prove a point? Mature.”

“Mature?” he glowered, then before you could think, he stormed towards you, grabbing both of your wrists with a hard squeeze. You gasped.

“Mature like you, with your short skirts and your fuck-me eyes, sucking your fingers off at the breakfast table?”

You squirmed. Tried to jolt yourself away but it was no use.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Oh, I noticed.” He said, moving in to corner you, grip tightening until he was walking you backwards across the room as he spoke, never once taking his eyes off you. “And it’s a real shame this couldn’t have been easier for us both, but you just had to start it. So I watched your pathetic little displays, day after day, knowing if you’d behaved better, I would’ve given you exactly what you wanted.”

You fought not to trip over yourself until your legs bumped against the ottoman at the foot of his bed and you caught your breath. His eyes bored into yours and you blinked helplessly. His grip loosened on your wrists. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone dry.

“If you’d been good,” he continued, voice lowering, “you wouldn’t have played around like that. Good girls don’t whore themselves out to respectable men.”

Your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt heat start to brew in your stomach.

“Respectable?” You spat, and his grip tightened again, bringing one hand up to trace your jaw, almost pitifully.

“See what I mean? You dig yourself deeper at every turn. Good girls ask nicely, and say please. It didn’t take me long to figure out you had issues with authority. It could’ve been so easy for you, sweetheart. You had plenty of chances. You could’ve asked me very nicely to fuck you, but instead you behaved like a desperate slut for weeks on end. Eventually, I knew there was only one way to shut you up.”

Your ears started to ring and you fought harder to gain composure. He’d never talked to you like this before. And now, all this, all at once, it was almost too much. Goosebumps had long covered your arms and legs, despite the heat inside you burning you up. You were vaguely aware of heat pooling uncomfortably between your legs.

Your breathing was heavy as you stared into him, his hand gripping your chin, and you couldn’t hide it if you tried. He finally backed away, letting you peel yourself from the ottoman. His hungry eyes scanned over you, suit jacket now crumpled at the wrists. You swallowed as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You knew I was watching you. The whole time. Every time. It was… for me.”

He watched you knowingly, raised his eyebrows a little. His lips grew into that smirk, that fucking smirk you knew all too well.

“We were playing the same game, sweetheart. I was just… Better.”

“A little excessive, don’t you think?” Your voice faltered and you cursed how breathy it sounded.

“Oh, on the contrary. It was very entertaining to see you struggle, but I could’ve gone further.” He mused. “I even considered fucking her on your bed.”

Shit.

A thought popped into your head, and a strange smile made its way to your face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I got these?” You asked, glancing down.

He frowned for a second; good. You’d thrown him off guard. But he caught up fast.

“The heels? You know, I had her walk right past your door in those so you’d follow her and see just what you were missing?”

If you weren’t so wired with adrenaline, you were pretty sure you’d be tearing up with how desperate you felt. But his words channelled it all into pure anger.

“Fuck you.” You seethed, and he smiled.

“We'll get to that. But go on, I’ll bite. What did you do to her?”

“Let’s just say she deserved much worse than what she got. Maybe you should’ve fucked her on my bed. Would’ve given me a reason to choke the life out of her.”

“You think I’d care?”

“Course not. Knowing you, it’d probably get you off.”

“Which brings us right back to now.” He stared at you, challenging. You laughed again.

“Is this you talking? You’re not very good at it.”

“No, this is me giving you a second chance. The way I see it, you made your move, I made mine. Now, if you’re a good girl, and ask me very nicely to fuck you until that pretty little head of yours gets filled with nothing but empty space, I might consider putting an end to this and giving you what you want. Maybe.” If you thought you’d survive smacking that smug look off his face, you would.

“You want me to ask nicely, Coriolanus?” You closed the gap between the two of you and glanced up at him through your lashes. He looked back at you, and no chill in the world could cool you down from the fire in his eyes.

He stepped away, paced towards the desk chair – the one he’d watched you from last night – then dragged it across the floor, spun it around, and took a seat. Once again, last night felt worlds away now. A lifetime sat between that moment and this one as he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his collar. As if the room was now a stage, and he was the sole spectator.

“Go on. I’m waiting.”

Cocky bastard.

Another airy laugh escaped you. But you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t exactly where you wanted him. So you played into it.

“You want me to beg you? Say pretty please?” Your voice softened as you slowly stepped towards him, holding his gaze. A passing thought reminded you of your childhood, asking your mother what you’d feel when you first truly fell for someone.

Fireworks. Thousands of them, crackling, hissing, charging the air between the two of you into something heavy. Thick clouds of smoke you could almost taste as you stared into darkened eyes. You paused in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket that brushed against your thighs. Caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

“Gladly.”

You slipped the jacket off your shoulders, and it fell smoothly into a pile on the floor. You kicked off the heels next, landing haphazardly to the side with a thump. His eyes never leaving you, consuming you.

“Like what you see, Snow?”

He took you in, long and hungry and shameless. Like you were simply there for his entertainment, nothing else. You wondered where along the line he’d lost all his inhibitions, at what moment in his very young life he’d decided to simply stop caring. It should scare you, but it just made you burn warmer. Maybe your wires were a little crossed, too, because it didn’t make you feel cheap.

It made you feel powerful.

You knew you looked good, too; you’d made sure of it. But he was looking at you like you were carved out of solid gold. He didn’t answer, because he didn’t need to.

“Think I like you better when you’re not acting like a dumb slut.”

You hummed, determined and unphased, moving in closer until your legs touched his knees. His words shouldn’t turn you on - nor should not knowing exactly how much he meant them – but they did.

“You like me better when I’m begging, then?” You placed your legs either side of his, straddling him, but still standing, and took his hands in yours. You ran one of them across your lips, brazenly taking a digit in your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop, then dropping your head down.

“You want me to be straightforward, Snow? Tell you exactly what I want?” you breathed, your foreheads almost touching, looking down at him from a thrilling vantage point, your hair falling either side of his face. “To beg you to rip this off me?” You guided his hands to your hips, letting them slide over the lacy fabric. “You want me to beg you to kiss every inch of skin you see and make it yours? Beg you to fuck me until I can’t think, and forget my own name?”

You ran his hands down the sides of your legs, then, inch by inch, letting him take a good long look on the way, you finally lowered yourself onto his lap. Your blown-out eyes met again, at the same level this time. You shifted your hips once, feigning getting comfortable, and hid a smile as he let out a strained sound.

You were close enough to feel his breath against yours, fast but steady, controlled. You moved closer, your head dipping cautiously under his chin to kiss his neck. He smelt clean, like fresh laundry and his cologne, and his skin tasted like salt as your tongue traced a line across it. It felt like power, having him like this. Slowly starting to grind your hips as your mouth pressed against his pulse, every shaky breath you elicited from him awakening something new in you.

“Say it, Snow.” You murmured, breath catching. “Tell me you want me to beg you, and be good for you.” Another trail of messy kisses across his jaw, and you finally heard it, ragged and coarse, words shooting through you like knives softened by the heat of his breath on your hair.

“Be a good girl, and fucking beg me.”

You hummed with satisfaction. Moved your lips to his ear, hand cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in close.

“If you wanted me to be good,” you whispered, “then you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

You felt it, his whole body tensing beneath you. But you had it now, the upper hand, and you weren’t giving it away. Your other hand came up to close over his mouth with a warning shake of the head, and you gripped the back of his neck harder with the first. Craned it backwards so he could look at you, a different kind of fire in his eyes. A fire that could burn you far worse than any other. You leaned your weight into him until you were flush, skin pressing into fabric. Tightening your legs around his so he couldn’t kick out. You felt dangerous. You felt alive.

When you spoke, your voice was a vial of vitriol.

“You thought I’d just give into you? Three weeks of torture and you call it even? No fucking way, Snow. You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

You were closer to him now than you’d ever been before, infinitely closer than when you’d held hands in front of an audience, or danced in the middle of a ballroom, or when he’d draw you in for a lingering kiss at the head of a busy table.

You were closer still because of the common denominator: you were alone, your bodies pressed together, soft and firm colliding. And your stomach ached with want, but your rage burned brighter.

When you were sure he wouldn’t move, you readjusted your position on his lap so you were sat on one thigh, your right knee pressed firmly against the chair between his legs. Slowly, you dragged your hips against it, firm muscle between your legs, shameless as you stared him down.

“I’d like to modify the terms of our agreement, as of tonight. Starting with this: I’ve made sure your little whore won’t come running back here. If I so much as hear a whisper of a rumor that you’re fucking someone else, I’m leaving. Don’t think I don’t know how to disappear. I can, and I will.”

He scowled at you, and you’d never felt power like the rush you got from seeing your hand clamped over his mouth. His own hands, now easily able to overpower you and push yours away, instead sat at your hips, digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises for weeks. As you moved, he started to follow suit, rocking your hips on his thigh faster.

He’s allowing this.

The realisation made you pull your hand from his mouth, and yet he didn’t speak. There was a tightness in his jaw, locked down so hard it must’ve hurt as he watched you move, helped you move. It sent a shock through your core, and you ground down harder.

Who’s on top now?

This was getting to your head.

“President Snow,” you mocked. “What a title. Thinks he can take whatever’s in his sight. Thinks he has the right. Did you think I’d come crawling back to you?” Your voice lowered.

“Did you think I’d get on my knees, like she did?” You glanced down, running your now-free hand over the front of his pants, gentle at first, then pressing in firm, and he hissed.

“Did you really think, after all your little shows, that I’d just submit? Not a chance.” You spat, and his breath turned a little shaky as your hand slid up, then down.

As it evened out, and he reached for composure again, he pulled a countermove. Got in close, with words so sharp, they nearly cut through you.

“Which one was your favorite?”

You pulled your hand away. Your hold on the back of his neck tightened, and in turn, so did his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder as you got closer, panties bunching up as you became desperate.

You shook your head.

“Don’t.”

He smirked.

“I gave you plenty to go off. Tell me, was it when I sat right here while she rode me? Or when I was fucking her mouth and calling your name?”

He pulled your hips in rougher, and you gasped, barely able to think. You were sure if he kept this up, your thighs would chafe. You just couldn’t find it in you to care.

“No, I don’t think so.” He hummed. “I know which one it was. It was the second time, wasn’t it? When I was making her cum all over my tongue, wondering what you tasted like.”

You couldn’t help it – a moan slipped out of your lips. He kept up the pace, rolling your hips faster, flexing his thigh as you started losing your bearings. He laughed at the state of you.

“I knew that one would get to you. Tell me something, princess, how many times did you touch yourself after that night wishing it was me? Or did you lose count?”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the spinning room.

“Cocky much?”

He let out a breathy laugh again, as if he was losing himself as much as you were. Pulling you in harder in response.

“Look at you,” he mused, “riding my thigh like the needy slut you are. Bet you’re close, too, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck.” you panted. “Stop fucking talking, oh my god.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart? You know I can feel how wet it’s making you, right?”

Your head dropped down and you whined. Sure enough, you’d soaked through your panties and dripped an embarrassing wet patch on his dress pants. You cursed under your breath as you slowed down.

“Beg me.” He ordered.

“No.” You gasped as he pulled you back again, faster, hips bucking as your legs started to shake around his.

“Beg me,” he repeated, "or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck, no, don’t fucking stop, I can’t-”

It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it.

“Yes, you can. You want to cum? Ask nicely, sweetheart. Just ask me.”

The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, just enough to let the pain melt into pleasure instead as it caught on your clit, and you started to ride out your high. You were right at the edge, he was keeping you there, hair stuck to your face in a hot sweat as you writhed on his lap. So fucking close.

“Fine, shit. Please. Please help me cum, oh my god. Right there, please. Fuck.”

And maybe you were more like him than you thought, because you weren’t ashamed. You rode his thigh like you’d ride him, unabashedly, while he watched you starting to fall apart. He moved faster, pulled your hips hard in as if you were riding him, as if he could feel it, breath running ragged, desperate. It only brought you closer knowing this would be sending him over the edge, holding you so near and yet so awfully far away. The look in his eyes screaming danger, and you let it swallow you whole, squeezing his shoulders like you were scared you’d float away.

"That's it. Knew you'd sound incredible, asking me all pretty like that."

His lips met your neck, teeth grazing your skin and that’s what did it, your legs squeezing his as you shook through your orgasm, crying out, falling to pieces, hearing going fuzzy. The words good girl echoing through your head so distantly, you couldn’t tell if he’d really said them or not.

You sighed, glazed eyes rolling open, coming back to yourself. Your right hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled into the creased fabric of his shirt. As you looked closer, you noticed it had opened wider, and he was missing a button. Had you done that?

When your eyes finally met Snow’s, you couldn’t look away from them. Beautiful and blue, like an ocean frozen over, staring into yours like you were all he’d ever wanted. You could get high off this feeling, live off it.

“Get on the bed.” He breathed. “Right fucking now.”

But too much of any feeling isn’t good for you.

“No.”

He glowered, face flushing even further, and as he leaned in to make another demand, you quickly stood, trying your hardest not to let your wobbling legs give you away.

“You should understand, Snow. We’re doing things my way now. And I’m going to be doing them as I please, when I please.”

You picked his jacket up from the floor, and slipped back into it, the soft fabric cooling down your burning skin.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Nobody likes a fucking tease.”

You chuckled, doing up a button and brushing your hair out of your face, damp with sweat. You walked to the dresser and took a swig from Snow’s half-empty glass, then turned. He sat there, and it took everything in you not to smirk at the mess you’d made of him. You handed him the glass when you were done drinking and turned away. You felt him stand, but you didn’t acknowledge it, still fiddling with your hair, smoothing it out.

“You said it yourself, Snow. I’m no common whore. If you want me to beg you to fuck me, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You turned, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. His face was unreadable.

“But be a doll, leave your door unlocked.” You added, stepping back. “You never know when I might change my mind.”

“You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t dare.” He seethed, the rage in his voice only propelling you on.

“Wouldn’t I?” You smiled, giving him a once over. Dropped your eyes down pointedly, first at the ruined leg you’d ridden, then at the uncomfortable-looking tent in his pants. You met his eye again and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He huffed, incredulous, disbelief painted across his face as you made for the door, swinging it open. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Buckle up, Snow. I’m just getting started.”

You missed the way his shocked face turned almost admiring as he watched you leave, walking barefoot down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Checkmate.

a/n: hope it was worth the wait 😌

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#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #snow x reader #snow x you #tom blyth #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #attention

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 7 days

Text

It Was All A Lie - LN

Dark fic 18+ - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS

Summary: Lando knew she was a die hard romantic, gullible to a few sweet moments and pretty whispers for her to be in the palm of his hand. She just made it so so easy.

Warnings/themes: Smut (choking, toys, cockwarming, semi public, mention of it being used for "punishment"), toxic/controlling behaviour (physical, financial, digital and mental), slut-shaming, isolation, some sexism towards the end, but equally kind of soft Lando at moments (but don't mistake that as him being nice)

No part 2 requests please

Y/n likes to watch edits from fans of her and Lando, old videos and clips of them together and what they used to be. What he tricked her into thinking was how he'd always be.

That feels like a lifetime ago and even though she gets glimpses of that side, it's no more than a performance for other people to believe that he's still that sweet, caring, cute boyfriend who charms the world with a wink and a smile.

She'd love to have that boyfriend back.

There's rules now with her fiancé.

Permission has to be given before she can talk to certain people. She doesn't have her own money. Lando has access to her phone and usually carries it for her. Any post on social media goes through him first. She goes where he goes and if she can't then she stays where he tells her to.

Now she's dependent on him. How could she possibly imagine going back to life without him?

She's his. Completely.

"Y/n, you're not going out in that. Jesus, why don't you just invite every man in the paddock to try and fuck you?" Lando scolds as y/n finishes pulling on a skirt.

Y/n looks down at the skirt, it's maybe a little shorter than she'd ideally have liked. But she didn't think it would earn such an extreme reaction.

"It's new. I didn't realise how short it was." Y/n mumbles making Lando get up and seem to pick through her clothes then holding out a dress. One she's worn before, and one he always smiles seeing her wear. "You always pick that one."

"You always look good in it without looking like you're trying to hop on every dick you can get hold of." Lando shrugs then moving his hand up. "I just don't want every man out there thinking I got you because you're easy...and I don't want them thinking they can take you because you're easy."

"I know." Y/n smiles lightly before she feels him push her skirt off leaving it to pool at her feet.

"How do they feel?" He asks almost absently while pulling off her top.

"Heavy, I'm scared they're going to fall out." Y/n mumbles as he hums running his finger knuckles down the length of her torso before he slides his fingers on the lips of her pussy, tips wet just from the touch.

"Well I think we can figure out why." Lando comments making her swallow. "At least I know they work the way I want them to work. I can have you whenever I want you with these."

Using kegal balls was, of course, Lando's idea. He's not a stranger to toys and he decided using them through the day might be a fun way to keep y/n on edge throughout the day.

"Y/n's is busy, but I'll make sure she gets back to you when she has the chance." Lando states into her phone while she looks at him.

"No! I'm sick of calling her number and you picking up the phone. Let me to talk to my best friend, Lando!" Y/f/n's shouts through the phone.

"Fine. But she won't want to talk to you for long." Lando sighs holding the phone out to y/n who looks at it like it's a foreign object. "Go on, she wants to talk to you."

Y/n takes the phone and sighs.

"Y/f/n, I'm kind of trying to sleep." Y/n mumbles making her laugh loud and dryly.

"I haven't heard from you in nearly 2 months-I spoke to your mum and she said she's got 5 texts in the past 4 months since you got in engaged and you don't want to talk to me because you're trying to sleep."

"I've been busy." Y/n sighs watching Lando move around, he won't watch her but she's not naive enough to believe he's not listening with pricked ears. Y/n tolerates a few minutes of ranting from her friend before she actually manages to fall asleep.

Being in a timezone that she's just not altered to and y/f/n having managed to talk without interruption.

Lando actually stops to look and smirks in amusement that y/n has really stopped bothering to try at all when it comes to people beyond him.

Which is good because he's all she needs.

"You've successfully bored y/n to sleep with your nonstop shouting. Bye, y/f/n." Lando states hanging up the call before she can speak again. "Fucking bitch."

He sighs sliding y/n's phone into his pocket before he sighs looking at y/n, throwing the blanket over her and kissing her temple.

His possessive and toxic behaviour that rose to the surface after felt like he had her safely stuck with him. She might change him for the way that he is, but he's perfectly happy with the way he is. But there is moments where he really does show that same amount of love and care that y/n fell for.

Because the truth is that he's the way he is because he never wants to lose her, he never wants anyone to get between them and he never wants anyone else to hurt her the way he knows they could. That's why he cuts her contact, that's why he controls her social media and that's why he tries to make sure she never gets attention from other people.

"Lan?" Y/n mumbles catching his attention though she's only just peaking through almost closed eyes. "Can you lie with me?"

See? Moments like this he knows that he might not treat her like everyone thinks is acceptable but he's certainly keeping her happy enough to want him there without him having to force it upon her.

"I will in a couple minutes. I just need to do one more thing." Lando promises moving to finish up with some messages he needed to sort out and check that his photos from his camera are uploading before he sighs and pulls off his clothes.

He manages to pull her over, reaching down between them before she finally stirs enough again to actually help. Lifting herself enough before she slides down on his dick, slotting them together before she nuzzles down against him again.

"I love you." Y/n mumbles feeling Lando's hands finger tips run up and down her back each hand up and down either side of her spine which really lulls her to sleep.

"I love you too." Lando whispers knowing that she's pretty much out for the count.

Y/n knows better than to test Lando. It's not big and it's not clever, so any time people even come close to having a full conversation with her, she finds any possible excuse to get out of there quickly.

"You look like you're having fun." Carlos comments catching her attention as she tries to rush through the paddock.

Y/n started dating Lando long after the Spaniard and Lando were teammates but because of their closeness, there's no denying that the two are close but that doesn't make Carlos any less of a threat when it comes to pissing Lando off.

"I am-sorry, Carlos. I'm in a rush." Y/n smiles trying to be polite but hasty.

"Ah no, you go. Go. Go." Carlos nods but as soon as she's turned, he's frowning at the fact she's actually always rushing off.

Y/n is rarely no in a rush and no one is really sure the last time they had a real conversation with her. Though admittedly few of the drivers interact with each other's girlfriends. Hell the girlfriends usually interact with each other more than the drivers interact with each other's girlfriends.

When she gets to Lando, he's sitting in the communal area with a half eaten meal in front of him.

"Hey, baby. Where you been?" Lando asks making her smile a little.

"I had to grab something from the hotel and I forgot my phone was with you." Y/n sighs making him hum and nod before he leans over to kiss her. "I tried to be quick."

"You're alright baby." Lando smiles earning a slightly settled not and sigh. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Yeah." Y/n hums before she looks at Lando for a moment then he seems to notice what she grabbed.

"Are you wearing my jacket?" He questions with a quirked smirk.

"It's cold." Y/n mumbles earning a nod before he notices the time.

"Ah, I have to go. Qualifying prep. But I'll see you later, ok?"

"Ok." Y/n smiles with a small nod. "Can I come watch in the garage?"

"Yeah, of course you can." Lando nods leaning over to kiss her again before he rushes off. Seemingly in a pretty good mood to see y/n dressed up in his jacket. It's something that works as a reminder of who she belongs to.

As if the heavy platinum ring encrusted with diamonds haloing around a sapphire doesn't make her status obvious and impossible to miss.

Y/n smiles the whole time standing in the garage as Lando goes out for qualifying.

Even before Lando was in her life. Y/n loved F1, so actually being a WAG is without a doubt a dream for her. Even if it's not quite how she really imagined it going.

When qualifying is done, y/n moves to his drivers room. Knowing better than to get herself caught in the post-quali chaos.

Lando is on the second row but there's something about his mood over the radio and in interviews that makes her feel like he's not the happiest man in the world.

He gets to his drivers room after media and ahead of the debrief with a storm behind his eyes.

"We're leaving as soon as the debrief is done." Lando states making her swallow thickly and nod.

By the time y/n is in the car with him for the short journey to the hotel, his hand is shamelessly pressed between her thighs. Is sex a healthy outlet in a bad mood? Not necessarily, but damn is it effective and the pay off for both of them is a 10 out of 10.

His free hand comes up to cover her mouth when she tries to choke back a moan soaking his hand and the seat beneath her as an orgasm hits.

Thankfully the driver is either a very respectful man or just so focused on the traffic he's not noticed but he's not paying any visible attention to the two passengers in the back seats.

"Lando, my dress." Y/n stresses when they pull up since her dress has taken collateral damage from their indiscretions.

"There's no fans there, just walk in front of me." Lando mutters climbing out and waiting for her to follow looking very panicked about the fact the seat is also fairly soaked. "Y/n, now."

Y/n swallows moving with him out of the car before he throws his backpack over a shoulder then pulling y/n in front of him as he walks closely behind her.

As soon as they as in the lift, she finds herself with his hand at her neck and his lips pressed to hers. Her body practically weak at his touch, plus as much as she shouldn't be turned on by someone's hand around her throat, she's almost fighting a second orgasm just from the heat of his touch.

When the lift stops on their floor, he somehow manages to navigate them to his room almost without breaking the kiss the whole time.

He only releases her momentarily when she's pushed back onto the bed, Lando wasting no time in thrusting into her finally earning a loud moan before his hand is back on her throat. He practically uses his hold on her to keep her in place as he seems to spend any remaining energy from the day on her.

"Fucking hell, y/n." Lando groans tightening his hold slightly which does restrict her air ways a little, though not enough to completely cut it. Out of habit she does bring her own hand up to hold his wrist, maybe her own way of feeling some control despite there being no way she could overpower him in the moment.

He's always in control.

Skin slapping and Lando's groans combine with her own whimpers and moans fill the room before his free hand finds her clit again and she arches up, feeling his hand tighten again finally cutting her air as he feels her sucking him impossibly deeper as he groans humming inside her before sighing as he ruts a couple times finally release her neck as her strokes down her body then finally pulling out and flopping down beside her.

After getting in the shower together and cleaning up, Lando sighs checking their phones then frowning and rolling his eyes at her phone which makes her look over but not dare to try and peak at the screen.

"Your parents called. Like 10 times, I don't know what their problem is." Lando mutters shaking her head while she bites her tongue.

Her parents problem is that they never hear from her but they see evidence of her being alive. They don't understand why she goes so long without contacting them.

Some days she really wants to go home to them. But even if she did have access to the money to pay for a ticket home, Lando would cancel it before she had the chance to get on the flight and even just the joke of an idea that she might be able to go straight to the airport, he makes sure that she has no idea where her passport is.

"You know you don't need them when you've got me." Lando sighs moving towards her again and tipping her chin up do she needs his gaze. "You know that."

"I know." Y/n swallows thickly hating that the good moments are always shrouded by his dark reminders that he's not going to stop till he really is all she has left in the world. No doubt that will change when they have kids but those kids will only have her and him too. "I love you."

"I love you too." Lando smiles stroking her cheek his thumb. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good. Proud of you for qualifying, I know you were happy but I think you did well." Y/n smiles earning a hum but there's something else that is clearly lingering in his mind and his expression is not one that can be considered positive in anyway.

A silence falls as they look at each other for a while then he speaks again.

"I want you to stay in the hotel room tomorrow for the race. I've told you I don't want you talking to people around the paddock, especially the other drivers."

"-I didn't." Y/n chokes out though she knows it's a lie. Even if she didn't really maintain conversations with anyone, Carlos and Daniel both tried chatting with her. That's a big no-no.

"Don't lie to me, y/n." Lando scoffs his hand going back down to her throat. "If you can't be trusted to listen to me, then I'll give you no other choice. You're staying here."

"I'm sorry." Y/n mumbles knowing there's no point in actually trying to argue. It'll fall on the deaf ears and only land her in being tied up and left probably freshly "fucked dumb" as he likes to call it when he pushes her limits of pleasure into pain from overstimulation. That's when she's most compliant, too exhausted and brain seemingly melted her into a babbling mess begging for forgiveness and promising to never do whatever wrongdoing she's done.

"You're always sorry." Lando states making her swallow because she hates it when he says that.

As if he sorry is insincere.

"We're going to get married soon and you need to start acting like a loyal wife. Not some slut any man can take." Lando grumbles making tears gather in her eyes and when one escapes he wipes it away. "If you'd just learn how to behave like I want then we wouldn't have to go through this time and time again."

"I know. I'll be better." Yn whispers not even sure how she can be better without flat out ignoring anyone who speaks to her. "I just don't want people to think I'm rude."

"What I think is the only thing that matters. Why do you care what other people think? Are you going to marry them? Spend your life with them? Have kids with them? No. So be concerned more about what I'm thinking. I'm the one fucking you, lying next you in bed every night, paying for you to live. I don't want anymore excuses. Or I'll be keeping you in Monaco and you can stay there permanently."

The only threat bigger than Lando keeping her by his side or in the hotel, not even letting her leave one apartment at all and if she tried to leave, just the thought of what he might do makes her spine straighten.

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