For The One You Asked More Context For -> Maybs Finn Facetiming Reader And Them Saying How Much They

for the one you asked more context for -> maybs finn facetiming reader and them saying how much they miss eachother and the other cast members are like making fun of them but in like a sweet way 🤭

the space between

finn x gn!reader

genre: fluff

summary: finn missed his costar and partner

“i know you guys had to be pretty far apart for the majority of the filming with half the cast in atlanta and the other half over in albuquerque.” jimmy spoke. you were currently with half the cast on the tonight show airing live from new york city. you were sat between millie and finn, next to finn was noah and sat behind noah in a row of four was gaten, sadie, caleb and priah.

“was it hard to keep contact with each other throughout the filming while you were far? i know how close the cast it.”

“well we did the best we could,” mille started off and noah nodded and continued her sentence. “we called each other a lot and we all texted non stop on our groupchat.”

“yeah and two cast mates in particular,” gaten trailed off, looking at you and finn. “looved face timing each other.” you both felt your cheeks heat up as the audience cheered and your cast mates looked at you with obvious smirks on your face. your relationship with finn wasn’t exactly a secret because you two were always spotted together but you guys never went out of your way to say you were dating.

“is that so?” jimmy smiled. you saw finn’s blush and placed a hand on top of his, nodding.

you think back to the time that you were in hair and makeup, getting all done up for the fight scene got had this season. your eyes glanced at the mirror but they were not trained on your reflection, they were focused on a picture of you and finn from season two. in the photo he had his arm around your shoulder. he smiled at the camera while you looked at him with a smile, lost in the moment. this was months before he had asked you on a date while on set and your relationship begun.

your phone began to ring and you got excited when you picked it up and saw finn pop up with a little heart next to his name. your makeup artist took quick note and put the brush down, scurrying out the trailer to give you and your boyfriend some privacy.

“hi baby, i was wondering- oh my god what the fuck happened to you? are you okay?” finn’s voice dramatically changed when he saw the blood on your face.

“finn-”

“did you fall? get hit? does it hurt? is there anything i can do i-”

“finn! it’s makeup! i have that big fight with vecna where i get my shit rocked today, remember?”

he sighed in relief. “oh right. sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you crossed your legs in the chair. “it’s cute when you worry about me.”

he smiled at the camera. “anyways. i was wondering if you wanna go on a date when i get back in atlanta. it sucks being away from you y/n, i miss you.”

you frowned lightly. “i miss you too! i’d love to go on a date when you get back.”

“great! noah and mille are waiting for me on set, but i’ll call you before bed?”

you nodded. “of course love. talk to you later.”

“later.” he smiled at you again before hanging up the phone.

“oh they called EVERY second.” caleb commented, pulling you out your thoughts.

“it was not every second..” finn defended even though he knew he was lying.

“sure it wasn’t.” priah spoke. “it was just every day. 24/7. all the time.”

“it was cute though,” sadie spoke in your defense. “i know we all missed each other but definitely not as much as y/n and finn. they missed each other a lot.”

the audience clapped again and jimmy smiled at you two. “ah to be young and in love.”

you and finn both covered your faces at the comment. the feeling of love was very much mutual but neither of you had said it yet so it was slightly embarrassing to be teased non stop by your costars and now the tv show host.

“i’m embarrassing you two, aren’t i?” jimmy asked, smiling.

“just a bit!” finn intertwined your fingers and brought the back of your hand to his mouth, kissing it before looking at you. “but you’re right. we are in love, aren’t we?”

you gave him the biggest smile before pressing a kiss to his lips which earned a squeal from all your friends. “yes. yes we are.”

•••

need him to kiss me silly rn

die for you.

ln x driver!reader

in which you can’t stand each other, or so you say…

this took waaaay too long for me to hate it sm but she’s here! and she’s long! love this concept so much, thank you for this request. so many feels so many vibes, tell me what you think <3

loosely inspired by die for you by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, slight glimpses of she fell first, he fell harder, rivals to lovers/enemies to lovers, choking, hate sex? bar fight, mentions of blood

8.3k words (oop)

it’s rare that you miss a podium, so when you do, it tastes bitter and stings like a bitch.

the car has been on fire all season long, a thing of beauty in your calculated hands. so, the string of bad luck you’re enduring, small mistakes with big consequences, it’s quite the pill to swallow.

out of the car you jump, teeth grinding hard out of frustration. you could see the commotion ahead of you, members of the papaya team celebrating their driver. your eyes roll so hard in your head that you feel a lasting ache. you side step members of your team, dodging every single person that tries to talk to you, your comms officer knowing better than to try and engage with you. you know you’re being unreasonable, it was a p5 finish! but it isn’t a podium or a win, so quite frankly, you aren’t interested, and you certainly don’t have any energy left to hear how amazingly well he had driven.

lando fucking norris.

what was once quiet disdain had grown into fully fledged hatred and you fear you’ll be violently sick if you catch a single glimpse of him on the podium. sure, he’s talented, and sure, he’s beautiful, you suppose. that doesn’t mean you have to like him. not anymore. he lives under your skin, inescapable.

you struggle through every interview in the media pen, most of which dissect your recent fall from grace, your mouth forming a hard, unimpressed line every time they mention the orange goblin and his recent streak of podiums and good luck. you wish the journos would bring up his string of women and the probable plan b receipts that went with them. that, you would love to talk about.

you drive in silence back to your hotel, leaving the track as soon as possible, and quickly find solace in your bed for the night. the idea of seeing the inside of a club makes you nauseous after your epic downfall. as your eyes are drooping, your body going limp under the thick duvet, a knock sounds from the door.

“no.” you shout flatly, but the only response you get are giggles from the hallway. for fuck sake, you mutter, groaning as you shift out from beneath the covers and trail apprehensively towards the door.

george and alex appear before you, and you throw your head back is exasperation.

“mate, it’s 9:30.” alex laughs, taking in your fancy attire; pyjamas that you’ve had since you were 17.

“what’s your point?” you croak, glaring up at your obnoxiously tall friend.

“why aren’t you getting ready to go out?” george questions, leaning against the doorframe. he, too, was obnoxiously tall, you thought, feeling the strain in your neck as you move your glare onto him.

“if it wasn’t obvious, i’m not going.” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought that was clear after i ignored all 77 of your texts.” you smile sarcastically, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“don’t be boring! you’re an f1 driver, you’re in a cool city, you’re rich and, let’s face it,” he sasses. “you need to get laid.” alex says, like it’s the most causal thing in the world. your eyes bulge out of your head at the utterance of the last bit. george bites back laughter.

“choosing to ignore that.” you hiss. “i’m sorry but i refuse to go out and celebrate that arrogant, whiny little bitch.”

they both know exactly who you’re talking about.

you and lando have simply never seen eye to eye. your karting days were spent pushing one another off the track or into a muddy puddle if things got a bit heated out of the car. sure, olive branches were extended, and maybe adolescent feelings were secretly harboured, but he never gave you any reason to tell him that. you’d grown out of the childish violence when you graduated into formula 1, but you hadn’t been able to shake the rage he made you feel.

it didn’t matter how many dinners you attended where others had conspired and forced you to sit next to each other. it didn’t matter how many times you turned up to play padel and were met with the same lame excuses of ‘oh, did we not mention lando would be here?’ it didn’t matter how many times you’d hugged it out on the podium while adrenaline and tensions were running high.

it didn’t matter how many times he’d watched you from across a crowded room and you’d found his eyes, watched him back. it didn’t matter how many times he’d smirked at you at the start of a race weekend, made you blush. and it certainly didn’t matter what happened last time you found yourself in a club with him.

you just don’t like him. not anymore. you sleep better at night when you lie to yourself.

~ the last time

you sink shot after shot, cocktail after cocktail; the taste of fruity liquor stains your lips and burns your throat. you feel electric, sizzling with ecstasy and the heat from the flashing lights above your head.

it’s approaching 4am and you can’t recall a time in your life where you’d felt so fucking good. the high of your first win is indescribable.

you’ve lost track of the guys, alex and george have packed it in and gone back to their hotels with their girlfriends. pierre and kika are somewhere in a corner, you’re certain. you’re pretty sure you’ve even seen lewis with his entourage and a brick wall of a bodyguard trailing behind him. and at the bar, a set of eyes watch you.

lando isn’t even listening to oscar anymore, no. he is too entranced in the way your hips move to the beat, lost in the carefree lines your body makes in the crowd. he’s itching to go to you, put his hands in places that would stay between you, him, and god, but he doesn’t think a broken nose would be good for business.

everything changes when you spin around, facing his direction. then, it begins: the same thing that happens every time you end up going out in the same group. you watch one another, pretending you’re not both achingly desperate to find out how the other tastes.

but lando is feeling bold. he tells oscar he’ll see him in the morning, and then, egged on by a moscow mule and a few too many shots, he makes his way towards you. it is instinctual, magnetic, the way he is drawn to you.

hands on your hips, lips on your neck. the song changes. you recognise the weeknd’s voice. you are disappointed in yourself but it feels too good to stop.

you know what i’m thinkin', see it in your eyes
you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry
you’re scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night
i’m scared that i’ll miss you, happens every time

the lyrics sober you up. you’re in the first taxi you can see when you finally get outside.

alone.

~

as much as that memory makes you shiver, for several different reasons, you find yourself putting on some makeup and raking through your suitcase for something to wear. george and alex are waiting downstairs for you at the bar, and when you finally make your way down there, they have a martini waiting for you. they watch in impressed horror as the alcohol disappears from the glass mere seconds after it touches your lips.

“let’s get this over with.” you sigh.

-

it could have been worse, you suppose.

the club is packed, hundreds of faces blurring into nothing. you feel better knowing that there is a one in a million chance of running into lando.

you’re tucked into a booth with alex and george, carmen and lily, a few faces you can’t quite place, and charles and pierre. you’d conspired to sit on the outside, prepared to make a quick getaway at the first sign of tension.

you’d been in a state of fight or flight since your last run in, nails bitten down every time you thought about his hands on you, how good they felt on you. it scared you more than anything had in a long time, how your desire had festered.

you go to take a swig from your glass, only to find it empty, aside from a few sad ice cubes. you watch jealously as they melt into nothing, wishing they would take you with them, shoving your glass across the smooth table top when your frustration boils over.

you’re on edge, ridiculously afraid of bumping into a curly haired man. it wasn’t him you were scared of, per-say, more yourself. god knows what you’d do if you felt those warm, calloused hands pulling your hips into his again.

“you okay?” pierre calls across the table. he and charles abandon their conversation as soon as your glass goes flying towards their side of the table. you’re broken out of your trance, caught off guard like a deer in headlights.

“tired.” you reply, shrugging it off like it was nothing. it’s clear immediately that they don’t buy it.

“she’s hiding.” alex chimes in from beside you, and your elbow goes straight into his ribs. he feigns pain for a moment, cackling at your reaction.

“from who?” charles inquires. you roll your eyes, blush spreading down your neck already. you hate everything about the conversation, and yet you need to see where it goes. you’d planned your escape, and now was the opportune time to make it, but you seem to be glued to the leather of the booth.

“lando.” george smirks into his drink as a he speaks, wiggles his eyebrows.

“oh yeah, we know all about that.” pierre laughs, his head tipping back in amusement.

“what?” you spit, eyes wide with confusion.

“don’t think me and kika didn’t see you two before the summer break. that night you won? we thought you’d finally cave.” pierre explains, his grin conveying pure evil.

several “what?!”’s sound from around the table, and now all eyes are on you.

“nothing even happened.” you mumble. “he came over to me and then i left.” you look away, twisting your hair around your finger. you are sweating.

“you looked like you were minutes away from being arrested for public indecency.” pierre smirks. you almost launch yourself across the table, intent on strangling him, and then perhaps throwing yourself in front of an oncoming uber outside.

“well, well, well. i fucking knew it.” alex is giggling beside you.

“come on guys, leave the poor girl alone.” lily winks at you, but even she has a twinkle in her eye. “there’s obviously feelings there.” and just like that she betrays you. her sympathetic smile doesn’t make you forgive her.

“i think you guys just need to get it out of your system,” charles starts, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “just fuck.” he waves his hand, like it was the most causal thing in the world.

the table erupts in laughter and you decide that you are well past the end of your tether. you shake your head, declaring that you need another drink, or ten, and strut away from the table. a chorus of ‘love you’-s and ‘get some’-s sound from behind you. you reply simply by raising your middle finger and refusing to look back.

the bar is in sight, just about in your reach when your evening goes from mildly bad to aggressively worse.

“fuck sake.” you sigh.

“and good evening to you too.” lando replies. he’s blocking your path, materialising before you out of nowhere.

“get out of my way, lan.” it sounds like you’re pleading and you cringe internally.

“don’t you wanna congratulate me?” he feigns a pout and you almost swing for him.

“no, not particularly.” you say dryly. “all i want is a drink, so if you’d just…” you gesture for him to move. of course, he doesn’t.

“haven’t seen you in a while, though. thought maybe you’d missed me.” he takes a step closer; goosebumps litter your bare skin.

“you are such an entitled prick.” you spit, moving to step around him but he catches you, gripping your wrists and pulling you in. you feel heat radiating off of him, expensive cologne overwhelming you in the best possible way.

“and you, honey, are such a fucking brat. but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?” lando whispers, cool breath hitting your face, minty, laced with champagne and cockiness. you almost fold, thighs clenching so tight that he must have noticed.

“move.” you grumble through gritted teeth. you are crumbling painfully, embarrassingly fast.

“make me.” your underwear is damp, but you are fuming.

“don’t fucking test me, lando.” something in your chest sets on fire and you’re over him and his bullshit, and the way he makes you feel.

“i know you want me.” he dips his forehead down to rest gently against yours. his grip on your wrists tightens, thumbs swirling circles into the flesh, right where your pulse is.

you lean in, mere centimetres separating your lips. his eyes darken, the assumption of victory over you tugs his lips into a smirk.

“all i want is my fucking drink. come find me when you’ve managed to navigate your gigantic, stupid head out of your arse.” you catch him off guard, wriggling out of his grip. you’re shaking when you walk away, thoughts of doing things with him that would get you both fired invading your foggy brain.

you try to disappear into the crowd, finally breathe a sigh of relief when your hands meet the cool surface of the bar. you order your drink, putting it on your tab and drum your nails against the marble top. you’re lost in your own world, watching as concoctions are mixed, as shots are downed. you finally feel at ease, until your evening takes yet another turn, one that was somehow even more unfortunate than all the others.

your attention is rudely stolen by the guy stood next to you.

“can i get that for you?” the random man speaks, in a way that he must of assumed was smooth. slimy, you think. he’s gesturing to your drink, clearly having watched you add it to your bill already.

“no, thank you. it’s already paid for.” you smile politely, turning on your heel. it seems he wasn’t quite done with you. you feel a clammy hand tug on yours, a wave of sickness washes over you.

lando’s hands are bigger, warmer, softer.

“where are you rushing off to, babe?” the sweaty man asks, his tone fake in a way that makes you uneasy.

“i need to get back to my friends.” you try to pull your hand free, but he won’t budge. “can you let go-“

“i can show you a good time. always thought you were kinda hot.” you’re panicking now, looking every which way for a familiar face, a security guard, anyone.

“take your hands off of me.” you snap, still wrestling to pull yourself free.

“one night with me would pull you out of that little slump you’re in.” he leers. you visibly gag, white hot rage blurs your vision.

“okay you piece of shi-“ you snarl, interrupted by a flash of curls and tanned skin.

“she told you to let go.” lando stands in front of you protectively, rigid and furious. you’ve never been so happy to see his annoying(ly beautiful) face.

“and what are you gonna do?”

“hands. off.” lando stands up even straighter, looking bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

“okay, mate, whatever.” the stranger rolls his eyes, shoves your hand away.

lando turns to you, opening his mouth to speak when…

“keep that stuck up bitch all to yourself.”

and then, everything goes to shit.

lando whips around, fists are flying, the stranger topples to the ground, amassed to nothing in the face of the mclaren drivers rage. lando doesn’t stop there, makes sure he is sufficiently dealt with, flat on his back on the sticky floor. you don’t know what to do, calling out for lando, begging him to stop, as satisfied as you are. lando hears your shouts, pulled out of the chaos and back to you. always back to you.

“are you okay?” he has his hands on your face searching for any remaining fear or upset. a crowd has formed and you see alex and george towering above the other club goers, jaws agape.

it’s as if he dj has it out for you, and you realise that the song has changed to something moodier, slower, one that gives you whiplash.

even though we're going through it
and it makes you feel alone
just know that i would die for you
baby, i would die for you

“we need to get out of here. security are coming.” you mutter, keening into his touch.

“i have a car outside.”

“well, let’s use it then.”

-

you can’t help but stroke over his knuckles mindlessly in the car, an unlikely comfortable silence settling between you. they look raw, cracked slightly and you have an overwhelming desire to kiss them better. your head is fuzzy, and you’re unsettled with confusion, but at the same time, you feel lighter.

“why did you do that?” you murmur, disrupting the quiet that has settled over the backseat of the town car, the question burning desperately on your tongue.

lando turns his head so that he’s looking down at you, his good hand comes up to cup your jaw softly.

“no one can talk to you like that.” he’s staring so deeply into your eyes and you almost squirm at the intensity. you feel exposed, bare.

“but why did you step in before that?” you reiterate shakily. lando hums in understanding.

“i’ve known you since we were 10 years old. i know when you’re scared.” he whispers, breath dusting your cheeks. you almost lean in, then, something about his words pull you even closer towards him. you feel warmth creeping over your chest, sinking into the pit of your belly.

“we’ve arrived.” the driver calls from the front, signalling that you need to get out of the car. it was like an elastic band had snapped, and you spring away from lando, scrambling to undo your seat belt, the moment of weakness long gone.

you sneak into the lobby, on the lookout for any angry PR teams or incognito photographers that are scoping for their next pay check. the coast seems clear, so you manage to scurry discreetly into the elevator. you hit the button for the third floor.

“can you hit the button for five?” lando asks, leaning against the opposite wall.

“you’re coming to my room.” you state, offering no other explanation, even when he raises his eyebrows.

the ding of the lift has lando pushing himself off of the mirrored wall, trailing behind you into the corridor. the lights are low as he follows you to your door, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. he watches in anticipation as you rifle through your small bag for your keycard. the green light gives you the go ahead to open the door, and he awkwardly follows you inside, peering around the room.

you notice the slight apprehension in his features, eyes blown wide from alcohol and adrenaline. they seem to sparkle more than you’d seen in a while, a hazel-y blue twisting with secrets and unspoken thoughts.

“let me find my first aid kit.” you tell him. you guide him towards the foot of your bed, gesture for him to sit. “make yourself comfortable.”

“you don’t need to do this.” lando replies, sitting down anyway.

“and you didn’t need to get between me and that dickhead but here we are.”

your words elicit a low chuckle from him, and you’re glad you have your back to him while you dig through your suitcase. he can’t see your smile at the wholesome sound, and he doesn’t need to.

random pieces of clothing fall out of the bag as you rummage through it, your attention taken up completely by your mission to find the small box. you don’t notice the pile of garments littering the floor.

“wow, didn’t take you for that kinda girl.” lando teases. your cheeks flame red when you catch sight of the cherry red thong that has managed to get caught in the wheel of your suitcase.

“shut up, i’m helping you.” you grumble, balling up the lace and burying it at the bottom of the case.

“why is it ferrari coloured? something you wanna tell me? do you think charles is… foxy? or is it fred? oh, i bet it’s fred, isn’t it.” he’s laughing now, loud and boisterous, and if it wasn’t for the butterflies erupting in your belly at the sound, you would have throttled him.

“i’ll leave you to bleed out.” you tease back, pointing at the dried up blood across his knuckles.

“of course, i am in urgent need of medical attention!” he exclaims sarcastically, clutching his hand. you roll your eyes.

“you know where the door is.” you stand from the floor, carrying a little square antiseptic wipe with you.

“yeah, i do. feel like staying now, though. i’m just so comfy.”

and with that, he throws himself back on your bed, closing his eyes as he sinks into the mattress.

you stare at him for a second, noticing the way his eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks, his tanned, thick neck peeks out from in between the undone buttons of his dress shirt. you exhale shakily, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

“give me your hand.” you instruct him, tearing the packet open and unfolding the wipe.

“romantic.” lando snarks. you shove his shoulder in response. he holds his hand out.

“whatever.” you sigh, avoiding eye contact as you run the wipe over his knuckles. you can see how they are already tinged purple, wincing at the idea that it is your fault.

“what is it?” lando asks, noticing.

you don’t respond. this proximity is odd, you can’t quite tell yet if you like it. what you do know is that you certainly don’t know how to handle him now that the alcohol is wearing off and you’re left tending to the wounds of a man that you could have sworn you didn’t like.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be? we’re going back to the silent treatment again?” lando scoffs.

“don’t know what to say.” you mutter, keeping your eyes trained on every line and indent of his knuckles.

“why do you hate me so much?”

“i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” he scoffs.

“i don’t think about you enough to hate you.” you lie. it’s cruel. he winces.

that shuts him up.

“i’m gonna go. thanks for this.” lando waves his hand and you feel a wave of guilt hit.

“no, fuck, i’m sorry.” you apologise, bowing your head. “stay.”

“i’ll stay if you tell me why you hate me.”

“i’ve never hated you, lan. haven’t always particularly liked you but i never, ever hated you.”

“okay.”

that’s all it takes for him to flop back onto the bed. some unexplainable instinct that you loathe has you crawling onto the bed beside him. you wrap your arms around your pillow, watching him watch you.

“i used to have such a big crush on you, you know.” lando says. you stare at him blankly.

“what?”

“yep. i think i was about 15. you were the first girl i ever really liked that way.” he smiles, recalling the memory. “it kinda sucked because i knew you wouldn’t even look at me twice but it’s funny thinking back to that time.”

~ 15

he watches the way her hair gets caught in the breeze as she takes off her helmet. two messy braids are shaken free, and his heart skips a beat or two, or seven, when she turns around with the biggest grin on her face.

she’s just won a race, another one, and he’d be so jealous if it wasn’t her.

he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. george and alex go over to her, congratulating her, hugging her. he wishes he could do that. he definitely can’t.

she doesn’t see him, the only times that she does are when they argue, when they push eachother off the track and scream at one another across a gravel trap. the times when she plants her pointed finger in his chest and calls him dirty, the times he gets heated and calls her something he doesn’t mean under his breath. and she always hears him. always. he watches her eyes pool with tears every single time.

he wants her, in a way he’s never wanted anyone before. he’s never felt like this, wonders how he can make it go away. she hates him. she must.

he can never have her, so why even try?

~

“i had no idea you ever felt that way.” you’re quite shocked, really. you knew that you had this intensely charged sexual tension between you now, but you had failed to realise how far back this all went.

mutually, at least.

“i’d say i’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it.” his smile changes slightly. it was now a sad smile, one that conveys disappointment in himself, and that you hated to see. it reminds you of the one you’ve gotten used to seeing on your social media feed after he’d had a shitty race.

you sigh, bracing yourself for what you are about to say.

“you’re not the only one who hid it.” you raise an eyebrow, your face says ‘guilty!’

“no?” lando’s eyes widen at your revelation.

“i think we were 13. you gave me half a cookie to apologise for pushing me off track.” you smile coyly. “it’s kinda sad but 13 year old me died inside.” you laugh.

“so, we’ve both… liked each other.” lando assesses. you nod.

“when did you stop?” you inquire, scanning his face. you take in each detail, each individual freckle, the curve of his lips. he seems closer, all of the sudden, and that’s when you realise you’ve closed the space between you. lando is within reach now, it would have been so, so incredibly easy to shift even closer still; it was like you were in his gravitational field, reeled in by pretty, pretty eyes.

“who said i stopped?”

“oh.” you breathe.

~ 13

he snaps the crumbly biscuit between his fingers, trails towards her awkwardly. he feels bad, feels a strange pang in his chest that he doesn’t recognise.

he finds her around the back of her parents car, arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, pouting hard. he thinks she’s cute.

“why are you here?” she whines.

“this is for you. i know it doesn’t make up for the race. i didn’t mean to take you out, i swear.”

he sounds panicked, sincere. her tummy turns funny.

he’s holding out a cookie, the children’s equivalent of an olive branch.

her face softens. she accepts it. they bite into their cookies at the same time.

it’s not the worst day in the world anymore.

~

messy kisses and soft whispers lull you to sleep.

his nose bumps yours every time your lips meet, gentle and plush.

you feel delicate in his arms, treasured. his lips press gently to your hairline. he’s different, softer than you’ve seen him since you were teenagers splitting cookies.

it’s the easiest thing in the world to curl into his side, mould together until you’re part of him, and drift off.

-

the heat wakes you up.

you stir, eyes fluttering open, searching for the source of the onslaught of warmth. it clicks quickly, and you realise that you hadn’t dreamt the events of the night before.

lando is in your bed.

lando had protected you.

lando had wanted you since you were stupid kids who didn’t know any better.

he is the heater that had woken you up, and suddenly you don’t care that you’re far too hot. you curl back into his side, head rests on his chest. it rises and falls softly, his heartbeat thrums beneath your ear. you are jealous of how pretty he looks when he’s asleep, relaxed and infatuating. you lose track of time, gazing up at him.

a sharp pain in your side makes you groan. you had fallen asleep in your dress, lando in his jeans and his shirt, and now you’re paying for it, your fingers searching for the zipper that was now digging into your side. your movements draw him out of his slumber, and when you look back at him, he’s watching you, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“you okay?” lando croaks, his voice deep and sleepy. it sends shockwaves through you.

“mhm. how did you sleep?” you ask, mindlessly running your hand over his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. a smile breaks out across his face, eyes fluttering shut once more.

“really fucking well.” he laughs, almost in disbelief.

“yeah, me too.” you smile at him, shy.

“what’s bothering you?”

“well, a human heater woke me up and now this fucking zipper is killing me.” you joke. it’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird.

“i am pretty hot i guess.”

“yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes and stand from the bed.

lando sits up, resting on his elbows. his eyes follow you as you walk around the room. you take a bottle of water, drinking half of it before passing it to him. his lips wrap around the bottle and you have to turn away, the ache between your legs that you’d been fighting for months rearing it’s irritating head. you clear your throat, composing yourself.

“need to get this dress off.”

lando pulls himself off of the mattress, stalking towards you. you stop in your tracks and he meets you at the foot of the bed. his hands find your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your skin in little circles, and then kisses you deeper than he did last night.

it’s impossible not to melt into him, hands running over his chest, his shoulders, and finally finding solace tangled in his curls. if someone told you the morning before that you’d wake up in lando’s arms, you would have cackled, urged them to seek medical attention, and probably spat in their face. how things change.

“i think you should keep it on, look so pretty.” lando breathes, staring down at you. you blush hard, leaning into him.

“but i’m uncomfortable.” you grin coyly. and then, a surge of confidence has you whispering: “i’ll let you take it off if you want.”

“let me make you comfortable first.” lando murmurs, dipping his head down until it rests in the crook of your neck. “want me to get you nice and comfortable, baby?” he kisses up your neck.

you cave, finally.

it takes him all of thirty seconds to have you spread out on his face, laying himself down on the mattress and pulling you on top of him so that you’re hovering over his lips. he mouthes at your panties for a second, getting his first taste of you, and then he drags them to the side, clearing a path. his tongue laves over your cunt, groaning as soon as he gets a proper taste.

your dress fans out over your thighs, and lando has disappeared beneath the fabric. you can tell he’s there, though, by the strong hands gripping onto your thighs, the tuft of curls peeking out, and the feeling of his nose bumping your clit as he buries his face deeper and deeper between your folds.

“lando.” you cry, throwing your head back. the straps of your dress are slipping down your arms, skimming your goosebump ridden skin. he just groans into your pussy in response, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth, backwards and forwards until you’re grinding down on his willing tongue. you reach down blindly, grabbing one of his hands where it rests on your thigh, and your other threads through his hair, gripping tight as you revel in the pleasure.

lando pulls your clit between his teeth, grazing over the bud and you’re jolting, writhing above him. you feel like you’re going to die, heat pricking all over your skin, your tummy tight from the building orgasm. he’s so eager, sliding his entire face through your slippery folds, obscene sounds falling from his lips that ricochet through your quivering body.

tears prick your eyes when you finally let go, slumping forwards from the overwhelming sensation taking over every single nerve. he lifts you off of him, laying you back on the bed as you come down from your high.

“you okay, baby?” he coos, brushing sweat dampened hair from your eyes.

his lips are stained, dark pink and shiny, a mixture of enthusiasm and your slick coating them. lando scans your watery eyes, feral at how fucked out you look all because of him, and tantalisingly licks his lips.

“need you.” you moan, reaching out for him. his shirt is wrinkled where he’d slept in it and your shaky hands find the few buttons that are actually done up. you push the material off of his shoulders, pupils blown wide at the sight of his toned chest, at the feel of smooth, golden skin. you pull him in by the shoulders, swallowing him whole as you kiss him with everything you’ve got left.

lando’s hands find your thighs once more, running his hands over them to push your dress up your hips.

“wanted this for so long.” he whispers into the kiss, pulling away so that he can take the dress off of you. he looks ravenous the more he pushes the fabric up your body.

you feel vulnerable under his intense gaze, watchful eyes taking in every movement you make. you try to pull him back in for another kiss but he resists.

“let me look at you, please?” lando asks. “there you go, baby, let’s get this off, hmm?” he sits you up so that he can get it over your head, and you lay back, bare aside from your panties that he’d left in disarray.

he sucks in a breath, raking his eyes over the curve of your lips, your collarbone, the slope of your breasts. his gaze lingers there for just a second, before continuing further over your belly, the length of your legs. you want to hide away, pull him in so that he can’t look at you like this, or just dive under the duvet and stay there until you need to catch your flight.

“god, you’re so, so fucking beautiful.” he gasps, awestruck. he sounds speechless, and you feel yourself going red again.

“come here.” you whine. “needed you for so long.”

your admission seems to kick him into action, because seconds later, he’s on top of you, fingers grazing the band of your underwear while you fiddle with the button on his jeans.

“gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” lando stares you down, tone sending a shiver down your spine. you nod, batting your eyelashes. “words, my love.”

“yes, lando.” you affirm, arching into him. that’s all he needs to know, kicking his jeans away, boxers too.

“good girl. took care of me so well last night, now ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”

your eyes skim his body, honing in on how hard he is. your hand finds his cock, tentative at first, stroking over it softly. it’s heavy in your hands, red and dripping already. he wants this just as bad as you do. you continue to jerk him off, watching the way his eyes squeeze shut and his lips part, soft pants falling out. a low hum sounds from the back of his throat, and you wet your lips, threading your free hand through his hair.

lando opens his eyes at the sensation, gently batting your hand away. he dips down even closer, resting on one of his forearms. he lines himself up and your legs wrap around him instinctively. slowly, he pushes inside of you, his breath catching in his throat.

“fucking hell.” he groans, deep and guttural, something carnal sending shockwaves through his body. “been dreaming about all the ways i’d get to fuck you.”

your eyes roll back and you go languid in his arms, feeling every inch of him slide against your slick walls.

“want you.” you rasp, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving patterns between his taut shoulder blades as you beg for it.

“you have me, baby.” and then he kisses you, messy and slow, stealing the air from your lungs. you’re dizzy when he pulls away, sitting back slightly to change the angle. you cry out, feeling him even deeper and everything is more sensitive, warm. you roll your hips, meeting his thrusts deliciously, and he chokes out a moan as you clamp around him. “yeah, that’s it. fuck yourself like that for me.” he encourages.

this is all too much, too good. you have whiplash, physically and emotionally, eyes pooling with tears as the man you’d wanted so badly that you hated him for it rocks into you. lando hits the right spot every time he pistons his hips harder, and his nimble fingers slide up your abdomen, applying light pressure to your navel that makes you writhe.

“fucking perfect for me. gorgeous.” lando slurs, entranced by the sight of where you’re joined. he can see just how wet you are and it drives him insane, barrelling into you like a man possessed, drunk on every single way that your body responds to him.

his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading it before he traces your nipple. he watches the way it hardens at his manipulation, wetting his lips. he collapses back on top of you, sucking the bud into his mouth. you’re panting, whining beneath him as his tongue swirls over your chest, switching to the other side. you jolt, a silent scream scratching your throat when he slips his hand between your thighs, working your clit with the pad of his thumb. he’s rutting against you, grinding deeper, faster, uncontrollably.

“come on, baby. you’re so close, so tight for me.” he mutters into your skin. you nod frantically, your words lost on you. he kisses over your collarbone, the base of your throat, until he finds your lips.

“so close.” you sigh.

he stops.

“tell me you’re all mine.” lando growls, his entire demeanour changing. the tone of his voice almost finishes you off but you’re suddenly enraged. you’re too close for him to stop.

“c’mon lando.” you hiss, trying to move your hips but he has you firmly in place.

“need to hear you say it.” his hand slithers over your chest, finding a new home at the base of your throat. it makes you throb, the way his thick fingers wrap around you. slowly, his grip tightens, and you see an opportunity.

you buck your hips hard, whimpering at the sensation, but your plan works and now you hover over him. he’s still buried inside you, and you can feel him pulsing as you steal control.

“for once in your life, honey, shut the fuck up.” you smirk, mischievous in victory.

slowly, you build up your rhythm. he feels bigger like this, deeper, and you almost lose yourself in the small circles you make with your hips.

“knew you’d be like this. you liked giving yourself to me but i just knew you’d need to take back control.” lando teases. his hand is back around your neck, squeezing slowly, and you grind frantically, dizzy for him. “i was right last night, wasn’t i, baby? pretending to be my good girl when really,” he pulls you down so that you’re chest to chest. “you’re just a fucking brat.”

lando holds you close as he fucks up into you, feeling the way you go limp on top of him as the pleasure washes over you like a million electric shocks. you’re crying, tears pooling on his chest, because there is nothing you can do, nothing you want to do, but take it. he’s got you right where he wants you, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

“yeah, baby, take it how you want it.” lando commands through gritted teeth, and you move your hips in a feeble attempt to match his speed. everything is slippery, everything feels wet and flushed.

the power play, the position, the frenzy he seems to be in as he fucks you, it all has you gushing, spilling all over him. you choke out a sob, shuddering as the elastic band in your belly snaps. lando stops his thrusts, replacing them with small rolls of his hips to help you through your orgasm.

a sharp breath and a string of curses from him give you the strength to muster the last little bits of energy you have left to look up at him. you pull your head up off of his chest just in time to watch him shatter into a million little pieces.

his neck flexes as his head rolls back, sinking into the pillow, his eyes tight. swollen lips part and your name falls from between them like a prayer. you can feel him filling you up, his hands tightening their hold on your hips like he’s scared to let go, like the world will stop if he does.

the world stops anyway, because then you’re looking at each other. really looking at each other.

it only takes a second for you to be drawn in and his hands leave your hips to cup your face. his calloused hands feel your skin, stroking over rosy patches on your cheeks. it’s deathly silent all around you, apart from the breathless pants you share.

swollen lips crash hard into yours and you melt. he’s still buried so deeply inside of you, your hips digging into his, impossibly close. you’re blindly reaching for any part of him you can get your hands on, and his big hands slide down your body until they meet the small of your back. ever so carefully, he flips you onto your back, easing your spent body into the mattress.

lando collapses on top of you, mouthes at your neck for a moment, delicate kisses making your eyes flutter shut. the eye contact almost sends you into cardiac arrest as he pulls out, oh so slowly. tease.

he holds you close in the shower, fingers massaging every part of you. sex and sweat are washed away, almost lovingly. you let the water run for far too long, content in clinging to him. it’s quiet, reflective time for both of you, exactly what it needs to be. you’re both hung up on questions that need to be asked, neither one of you brave enough to take the first steps. you know one thing, and one thing only: something has changed, in a forever kind of way.

your hair is stringy, half dry, and you’re stood in your underwear. your legs are still shaky.

“your flight soon?” lando asks. he’s stood in his boxers on the other side of the room, scrunching the water out of his curls.

“yeah.” your throat feels raw.

“and you’re going back to monaco?” he’s stopped what he’s doing now, staring at you. you can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

you nod.

“fancy a sleepover?” he grins, boyish and careless. your heart falls to your feet.

you’re giggling when he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you into the freshly made bed. the sheets are on the floor by the time you finally remember you have a flight to catch.

you’re his now, you realise. he’s too beautiful for his own damn good.

-

“baby?” you hear lando call from his bedroom. you make out the faint sound of his footsteps making their way in your direction. he appears before you can even answer him, and he’s smiling softly at the sight of you bundled up in a blanket, sprawled across his couch.

“what is it?” you ask. the next thing you know he’s on top of you, peppering kisses over every single inch of skin he can get to on your face. “hey, get off, muppet.” you whine playfully, ruffling his hair.

“do you know how much i love having you here?” he murmurs. it’s endearing as fuck and you fight a foolish, dopey grin.

“you’ve mentioned once or twice…” you’ve been here since your flight touched down a week ago. you haven’t even been home to get clothes, not that you needed them in his company.

“we might have a teeny, tiny issue.” he squints, pulling a face.

“and what’s that?” you ask, your voice measuring equal parts cautious and amused.

“so, alex called…”

“oh, shit.”

“we have to go to dinner tonight.”

“we have to?”

“he’s suspicious as fuck. you do realise they’ve been plotting for us to happen for years,” you roll your eyes as if you say duh. “and also, you’ve been in monaco for a week and haven’t seen him once. oh, and also, the last time we saw them, we were running away from a fucking crime scene.” lando smiles sarcastically, and you sigh, defeated.

before you can reply, your phone is ringing somewhere beside you. you root around in your blanket searching for it and when you find it:

“son of a bitch.” you exclaim, showing lando the caller ID. alex is one persistent motherfucker.

“hey girl.” alex singsongs down the phone before you can even say hello.

“hello to you too.” you can hear the fear in your own voice.

“dinner. tonight. although, i’m sure lando already told you.” alex teases.

“why would lando have told me? what?” you choke. lando slaps his hand over his face. your voice has gone up several octaves. not suspicious at all.

“so, you’re at home? you haven’t been at his place since last week?” the playful interrogation begins.

“why would i be with lando?” you try and feign disgust at the implication. it does not work.

“because you hate fucked after he beat up that perv? i have to say, i didn’t think he had it in him but he’s been in love with you since he was like, ten, so, you know-”

“bye alex.”’

“you’re not denying it-“

“bye alex!”

you’re flaming red when you throw the phone to the other end of the sofa. lando, as on brand as ever, is cackling into a pillow.

“he is such a fucking shit stirrer.” you bury your face in your hands, slumping back into the fuzzy cushions.

“well, he’s right about one thing.” lando trails off. suddenly he’s looking anywhere but you and you see him gulp, hard, swallowing his words, like he’s too afraid to bare his soul.

“huh?” you ask gently, sitting up to reach out for him. “what’s wrong?”

“we need to get ready for dinner. that’s what he’s right about.” lando says, standing from the sofa and walking towards his room. you’re suspicious, watching him go with furrowed eyebrows.

-

“lando, behave! you’re the one making me go to this dinner.” you squeal, batting his restless hands away.

you’ve made it as far as the elevator before he pounces on you, caging you in against the metal walls.

“but you look so good, can’t help myself.” he mutters between kisses on your neck, pressing himself even further into you.

the hand that finds it’s way between your legs, exploring beyond the hem of your skirt, is the one that makes you press the button for his floor. why have plans when you can have sex?

he gets through the door to his apartment at lighting speed and carries you all the way to his bed.

when you’re sweating and breathless a good hour later, half of the bedding on the floor with your clothes, you realise you never cancelled your plans.

lando is drawing shapes into the bare skin of your arm, kissing over your shoulder as he does so. his eyes are dropping from all of the over-exertion and you want to count each and every freckle on his face while he falls asleep. he’s cute like this, soft and yours.

and idea comes to your mind, and as if he can see the lightbulb, lando half raises an eyebrow at you. you giggle, somewhat evilly perhaps, and scramble for your phone on the beside table.

“what’re you doing?” lando groans, pouting as his outstretched arms try to find you.

“getting even.” you state.

with the phone in your clutches, you roll back over towards him, holding the camera above you both. he hears the shutter sound as you snap the picture, and peers closer to see the screen. when he sees the groupchat open, he quickly understands what you’re plotting.

“may i?” you ask for his consent.

“are you kidding? go for it. that’ll shut them up.” he laughs sleepily, muttering something about how this is the most lando thing you’ve ever done

FROM: you

TO: the groupchat

1 image attached

couldn’t make dinner. something came up xx

“alex always thinks he’s right, this’ll teach him for being such a little shit.” you flop back into bed even more satisfied than you were before.

you hear lando inhale shakily beside you.

“he is right sometimes you know.” he repeats his earlier words.

you hold your breath. his eyes say so many things that are too delicate to be spoken yet.

“like… like what he said on the phone?” your voice quivers with anticipation, fear. your heart is thunderous, hammering away like it wants to escape the clutches of its cage.

“yeah. i-“ he stops himself. you don’t need him to finish, you know which two words follow. they can follow in good time, you both know it.

“me too, lando.” you coo.

he’s beaming, eyes half shut. you watch as he falls asleep, the both of you ignoring the way your phones are vibrating so aggressively that they might buzz their way off of the night stand. you lose count of his freckles, but it doesn’t matter.

you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.

-

let me know what you think :D

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin

(i ran out of tags omg? whoops) lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

And the truth of the matter is (I'll never let you go) - J.S

Synopsis: Jake Seresin hates you. Or is given no choice but to hate you after you decide to hate him first. Which sucks, because he dreams of dating you, marrying you, fucking you, the whole nine yards.

Tags: NSFT, miscommunication, enemies to lovers (kinda), F!Reader, mentions of gender and sexism, infactual Naval Control Room (sorry babes I have no clue what goes on in there and did not fact check), alcohol, sappy emotions, unprotected sex (Don’t do this!), penetrative sex, sub!reader, Dom!Jake, squirting, creampie, overstimulation, spanking, brief cockwarming

Word Count: 4.3K

AN: pretty silly in concept as in I know nothing about Naval control rooms and instead of learning or changing things just barreled on ahead because I felt compelled lmao I also tend to not like miscommunication tropes but once again…something compelled me

Jake Seresin fucking hates you.

Well not really. To be quite honest, he thinks you may be the prettiest thing he’s seen in years. He has dreams where he wakes up next to you, fantasies of taking you to Texas, making sure you never had to lift another finger unless you wanted to.

So no.

He doesn’t hate you. But dear God he seems to be doing everything wrong. 

And he never does anything wrong. 

But anytime he flirts with you, dropping the ole’ Seresin charm, your lips curl up at him, unimpressed. (He wants to bite them. Or kiss them). You always roll your eyes, pat his arm and leave him hanging.

He hates it.

So he ups the ante, deviating from your carefully calculated flight instructions. He easily sails through the air, gliding between clouds and aces through the training and exercises. 

By the time Jake lands his plane, he’s elated, adrenaline pumping, muscles tense, and craving something hot, something more. 

Except it’s worse when he sees you that night. He practically turns red when you completely ignore him. Turning on your pretty little heels, not even giving him the time of day. 

He grabs your forearm on your way out, brows pinched in frustration at your lack of attention. At least before, when you talked to him, you were friends of some sort. 

But now you rip your arm out of his grasp, anger evident. 

“You’re a fucking asshole, Hangman,” you mutter before disappearing into the night. You never call him Hangman outside of work.

So yes, Jake Seresin hates you now. 

Any conversation between the two of you changed after that day. It’s always tinged in anger, some sort of bitterness. He can’t figure out what he did wrong, and you won’t tell him, and it just further cements the fact that he has to put those dreams of you to rest. He continues to defy you when he’s up in the air, but he’s no longer trying to impress you, no, it’s petty and cruel now.

He lets the wound fester, lets it grow and spread, turn vile enough that the others eventually take notice. 

Phoenix hangs by you when you’re all together, a loyal shadow, talons out whenever he gets too close. Rooster's loud and annoying as ever, picking up on the tension and doubling down on his clown routine to dissipate the heaviness. 

Jake finds himself embarrassed when Bob looks at him with sympathetic eyes. If you didn’t want to talk to him fine. He doesn’t need you or your goodwill (God he wants you so bad though). 

Coyote finds him at a barbecue one night. He hands him a beer wordlessly and just stays with him. It’s quiet and nice, making the ache he’s been feeling recently disappear a little. 

“You should talk to her.” Coyote's usually calming voice sounds abrasive to Jake; his hackles go up. 

“Jake.” Javy’s tone stops him from pouncing. “I’m serious. Just talk to her. You’ll both feel better.” He slaps his back, wandering over to Fanboy and Payback as the sun dips into the sea, the sky painted in orange and pinks. 

You’re sitting by yourself on top of a picnic table, a little away from the group, gaze glued to the sunset. 

You look like a fucking angel right now. Something straight out of his dreams. 

Fuck it. 

Shock finds its way onto your face as you see him walking towards you, his muscled body moving with purpose. Wide eyes watch him before they narrow turning towards the sand. 

“Go away, Hangman,” you spit. “Do I need to get Natasha over-“

“What did I do wrong? Tell me what I did.” He cuts you off abruptly, and there’s a twinge of guilt and desperation that colors his words. It’s different than any of your previous conversations. No cocky charm, no anger, just a solemness that leaves your jaw hanging as you gape at him.

He barrels through your silence, sitting on the table next to you. “I can’t fix this,” gesturing between the two of you, “unless you tell me what I did to make you hate me so much.”

Jake briefly notes the way you look at him like a deer in headlights, it’s a look he hasn’t seen on your face before. He wonders what other faces you could make for him. 

“You really don’t know?” Your voice softly cuts through the air, anxiety underlining your words. He shakes his head, watching the way you chew on the inside of your cheek as you stare at the darkening sky. 

A silence settles between the two of you, nothing to listen to but the laughter of your friends, and the repetitive crash of the waves.

“You embarrassed me.”

It’s so quiet, Jake almost doesn’t hear it. 

“What?”

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone. You didn’t listen to me at work. And I fought so hard to get into that control room.” You pause, tugging your jacket tighter around you. It sounds stupid now. Certainly nothing to cry over, and yet here you are, furiously rubbing your eyes. 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Jake carefully pushes, unsure of how to make this better. 

You make a pained sound, before nodding, a humorless smile on your face. Of course, he has no clue. You press a palm to your chest, looking straight through his eyes into his soul.

“I do the calculations for your exercises and training.” You pat your chest, voice cracking. “I do it.” He tilts his head at you, silently urging you on. “And when you don’t listen to me and are still so successful, everyone looks at me.” 

“But I do that all time…” he trails off, hand hovering over your shoulder before pulling it away. 

“When you train with Mav or the other pilots, that’s different. But just- certain exercises, where it’s mainly for the plane and just you. That’s on me.” 

He takes a sip of his beer, nodding slowly.

“Why do they look at you?” You let out a small groan, brows pinched in annoyance. 

“Because when what I calculate doesn’t happen, they think I should be doing better. Well, everyone but Hondo. And in case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a lot of women here.” Jake’s stomach drops a little as you continue. Shit. 

“If I had been a man, I don’t think they would’ve raised an eyebrow. Hell, no one says anything when Johnson fucks up on Rooster’s calculations. And it is on me. I should’ve considered the fact that you’re the perfect pilot who will always beat the odds, but you had never pulled this shit with me before.” He snorts at that, before finally letting his palm rest on your thigh. 

In a comforting, apologetic manner. 

Nothing else.

“And it certainly didn’t help that after the first time, I did everything in my power to do the opposite of what you said.” You laugh at that, a twinkle returning to your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while.

“No that didn’t help at all. One day my favorite pilot stopped listening to me, the next day I was a joke in the control room.” Your fingers curl into your jacket, and you keep still as Jake slides closer to you. He puts his beer down, gently caressing your jaw so you look at him.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry that happened to you. I wish you had told me,” he whispers, watching as your eyes dart around, unused to this type of closeness from him.

“I’m sorry. I just was-“ you meet his eyes again, tears beginning to well. “I was embarrassed. I thought I was going to get demoted or transferred. Which didn’t happen. But I thought you didn’t need me and….” your voice fades off, embarrassment all over your face, as you try to squirm out of his grasp. 

Jake drops his hand from your jaw, giving you space, but he squeezes the flesh of your thigh.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that. That’s the last thing I ever wanted, believe me.” He swipes at a stray tear with his free thumb, watching you blink in surprise. He steals himself, deciding the truth may be the best route.

“When I didn’t listen to you the first time, I was trying to impress you.” Your eyes widen and your upper body pulls away from him.

“What?” You sound like you can’t believe him, and your eyes narrow at him. “This isn’t funny Seresin.” There’s an edge in your voice again, one that he’s come to respect and hate over the past weeks. 

“I’m not being funny,” he throws back, matching your glare. “I was trying to get you to notice me. Hell, nothing else was working.”

“Now what the fuck do you mean?” He looks at you like your stupid, and he almost feels guilty about it except for the fact that he had been flirting with you for so long, it’s a miracle he didn’t give up. And when he tells you that, you look at him mouth gaping. 

“You were serious?” Jake almost rolls his fucking eyes, but he’s watching you relive months of memories, as your shoulders sag. “Oh my god. I thought you were making fun of me.” 

His heart aches a little at the thought of you thinking he was being cruel to you when he wanted to do nothing more but give you the moon and every star in the sky. 

“Sweetheart. Not only do I want you more than anything, I need you. Always.”

“Oh.” He feels you squeeze your thighs together, feels the heat radiating from you. 

Oh. Oh indeed. 

———

Jake’s careful with you. More careful than he wants to be right now, but everything’s so fragile right now, so tender, he doesn’t want to do anything that’ll scare you off. 

His hands are gentle when he peels your shirt and bra off of you; he’s hesitant as he kisses down your neck. His thumb swipes over the, now swollen, lips that have haunted his dreams. They open ever so slightly, letting him push in. He groans into your neck, pushing his free hand into your shorts, sliding over your damp panties. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as he trails his fingers up and down your clothed slit. Your hips buck slightly at his ministrations, lips curling around his thumb as you suck gently at it. 

Jake’s cock throbs painfully in his boxers as he watches your body react to him so beautifully, and he hasn’t even really done anything yet. You’re so wound up, so tense in multiple ways, and it’s his fault. He owes it to you to make you cum before he gets his dick wet. It’s what you deserve. 

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, caressing your face ever so slightly before trailing it down your breasts to tweak at your nipples.

“Such perfect tits,” he mutters, watching you bloom so beautifully under his attention. “Now let's get you out of these shorts.” You lift your hips as he situates himself between your thighs, pulling your shorts and underwear off in one go. And then he just fucking stares. 

You squirm under his eyes, thighs beginning to close as anxiety plucks at your nerves. But he’s faster than you.

“Don’t you go hiding from me now, sweet thing.” He licks his lips before looking at you with blown-out eyes. “I think you doubt how long I’ve been dreaming about you and this perfect pussy. Let me enjoy this.” Your heartbeat picks up at his words, cunt involuntarily clenching around nothing. And he fucking watches it happen. 

He smirks up at you in a way that makes you want to pull your hair out, presses a kiss to your thigh, and remains silent. As if not wanting to push your annoyance too far. 

Jake settles on his stomach between your thighs, continuing to leave a trail of soft kisses up your thighs until he’s right at the apex, thumbs pulling your lower lips apart. He sighs appreciatively as your thighs tense.

“You’re just staring,” you complain, beginning to squirm again. He tsks at you, dragging his thumb up the cleft of your cunt.

“Hold your horses. I’m just getting started.” He swaps his thumb for his index, circling around the bud of your clit, delighting in the way you shiver, and he continues to trace your pussy as it leaks for him. “So pretty…” he murmurs mostly to himself.

Jake’s mainly teasing you at this point. A bit cruel considering how battered you both are emotionally, but he wants the first time you cum for him to be big. Memorable. Nothing less from Hangman. And for you. Of course. 

And so he continues to tease, to drag his digits around your clit, your entrance, teasing the opening but not quite entering. He’s enchanted by the little noises you make, the gossamer strands he pulls from your body. They just look so…sweet. 

With his eyes fixed on yours, he leans his mouth forward. 

When his tongue swipes along you, your groan of relief goes straight to his dick. Fuck. He could listen to you all day. 

Jake laps away at your cunt, chasing after your nectar and the sounds you make, relishing in the way your thighs tense around his head. He draws his tongue up, passing over your clit, and you buck into his mouth. Your fingers are in his hair in a flash, tugging as he repeats the motion. His eyes roll into the back of his head at the feeling, and he grinds his dick into the bed.

“Fuck,” you whimper, eyes sealed shut as you continue to hump against his face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

He expertly flicks at your clit, fingers digging almost painfully into your thighs. It feels so good, the pleasure radiating from your pussy making your brain foggy. Much like he can’t think of being anywhere but between your thighs, you can’t think of anything but Jake and his perfect mouth.

The two of you stay in this, wet, messy rhythm of tugging and licking and teasing until your wound so tight, muscles so tense you can’t help but beg. Jake, Jake, baby, please. I need to cum so bad.

He groans against you, vibrations making you shiver. One of your thighs is released, fingers gently trailing over the shallow nail marks left on your skin. You shiver again. Those same fingers find their way to your sopping, twitching cunt, and they trail in-between the lips of your pussy while his tongue remains focused on your clit. 

You pant tugging hard at his hair again, you can feel it coming, feel the wave begin to crash- and then he pushes 2 fingers inside you, stretching, searching, begging you to cum around them. And obedient as ever, you do.

You jolt forward, fingers still tangled in his hair as your thighs snap shut around his head, cunt pulsing around his fingers and into his awaiting mouth. Your blood feels white hot, pleasure overwhelming as your hips continue to twitch and buck. 

Jake continues to thrust his fingers into you, helping you ride your high as his own hips grind into the bed, reluctantly chasing the same. 

When your body starts to relax, fingers no longer clinging to his hair almost painfully, he pulls his mouth and fingers away slowly, watching you carefully, gauging where you are. 

You blink at him blearily, licking your lips before noticing how wet the lower half of his face looks. Wet because of you. 

You let out a small moan. “Fuck, Jake.” 

You look so fucked out, so lovesick- Something snaps in him and he doesn’t know why but he needs you to cum again as fast as possible. 

And so he dives back in. 

Fingers thrusting, tongue skillfully teasing. And you wail, hips rocking. To escape or seek more, you don’t know. 

“Jake,” you cry out, pulling his hair, trying to get his tortuous mouth off of you. “Jake it’s too much!” But a single arm keeps you glued to his mouth. His eyes meet yours, blown out and desperate, and your fucking shaking. 

And then his lips form a seal around your clit. 

And he sucks. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips writhing against him as you’re taken under by another massive wave of pleasure. Your thighs squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, feet flailing against the bed. You repeat nothing but his name, as if it’s the only word you remember how to say, voice tense and whiny. 

He moans into you, fingers pulling more of your cum into his mouth, and he grinds his boxer-covered cock into the mattress watching your body crest and crash until you begin to still. 

Carefully, as if you might break, Jake pulls away again. The deep ache in his gut was finally satisfied at seeing you fucked out and exhausted. 

But you prop yourself up to look at him, chewing your lip thoughtfully. “Dontcha wanna fuck me?” You whisper, something desperate and needy kicking to life inside of you again. 

Jake inhales deeply, something twinging in his abs, and he grimaces. 

And you flail in panic at his face, turning over to your hands and knees, cunt rising above him, as you turn back to look at him, begging again. Jake please, please I need you in me. I want you so bad. 

And he groans, reaching a hand up to squeeze your ass. 

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing more I want than to fuck this cunt until you pass out. But I need to wait. I’m a little spent…” 

You freeze at that, turning more to watch as he peels off his boxers, noticing the shine of the fabric. Holy shit. 

Your eyes widen, and you collapse in front of the pillow in front of you. 

“That’s so hot, Jake. Fuck.” Your hips wiggle as if to sell your point, and he chuckles. 

“Bad timing though, huh?” 

You peak out from the pillow, turning back again. “I don’t mind waiting.” 

“I know.” And he smirks at you again, and it’s so annoying and cocky in the ways you hate but you’re too horny to care. 

Especially when he starts massaging the globes of your ass. You settle down, eyelids drooping as his fingers dig into the flesh there. It feels so nice, relaxing while still keeping you turned on. 

Jakes's fingers drift lower towards the entrance of your cunt, fingers gliding over the wetness that lingers around the entrance, pushing it back into you. 

A shudder runs through your body as you clench tightly around his fingers. He coos at you, beginning to thrust them in and out, other hand still squeezing away. You gently rock back against him, mind glazed over from all the sensations and the fact that it was Jake Seresin who was doing it to you. 

He pushes another finger in, smiling to himself at how you flutter around him, wanting more. Your darlin’ cunt was really a gift, wasn’t it?

He thrusts in and out, glued to the way you drip around his hand. 

“Jake?” you sound so quiet, so soft. He could eat you live right now. You’re pouting now, lip jutting out at him. 

“What is it darlin’?” 

“Can you fuck me now?”

There’s a mean edge to your voice again, one that almost has him rolling his eyes. You’re a fucking piece of work sometimes. But he just pulls his fingers from you, stroking his cock with the wetness of you. 

“You know what? I think I can take care of that for you.” You grin back at him, propping yourself up and shaking your ass again, and he slaps the jiggling flesh, making you laugh. 

He fists himself mindlessly, guiding himself forward, closer to where he wants to be more than anything. 

You inhale, fingers digging into the sheets at how he barely nudges toward, stretching you ever so slightly. 

Jake lets out a hiss as he pushes forward. You’re fluttering and tensing like crazy around him, and his nails dig into your ass harshly. 

“You gotta relax for me. Let me in.” You shiver and nod taking deep breaths as finally slides deep into your slick cunt.

“Oh shit Jake,” you say, already moving back against him, lost in the way he feels spectacular inside of you. Whatever daze you’re in is reciprocated, as he shallowly thrusts into you ever so slightly as you both adjust. You’re just so hot and wet already. It makes the small of his back tingle; lights something up deep inside of him. 

Jake pulls out slowly, watching the way your walls cling to him, listening to the way you mewl. Fuck.

“Yea you like this dick?” He pumps back into you, watching the way you react, feeling you. 

“You’re so- fuck- annoying,” you moan, glaring at him from over your shoulder, but your pussy squeezes him anyways.

“You were the one begging for it.” His palm slaps the fat of your ass, and you bounce back against him. 

“And what’s wrong with that?” He glares at you, at the twinge of fight and mischief in your eyes. 

“Nothing you little brat.”

And then he fucks you. Hard. Hips slamming into your ass, skin against skin. It’s loud, filling the air with wet, lewd noises that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. You can feel the ridges of his dick as he stretches your cunt.

He fucks you steady, hypnotized by every little thing about you. You just feel so fucking good, surrounding his cock as you drip into the sheets. Jake briefly wonders if you’d let him do this again, let him see you like this, tease you apart until you’re just as gooey and babbley. 

He splays his hand out on your upper back, pushing you in the bed. Your breathing’s shaky, fingers curled into the sheets. There’s a deep ache inside you. You need him so much it hurts. 

“Jake,” you manage to pant out, cunt squeezing him deliciously. He hisses before stroking the length of your back. 

“I know. You’re being so good for me. Such a good girl,” he coos, hands landing on your waist. You nod in agreement, the praise going straight to your overworked cunt. 

“Used to be so mouthy with me. Just needed my cock in ya, huh?” His question is punctuated by a particularly well-aimed thrust that makes your knees feel wobbly. It’s degrading, but the way he’s making you see stars right now has you whimpering in agreement. You need it. You need him.

“Jake,” you whine hoarsely. “I’m close.” He coos at you again, squeezing the flesh of your waist before sliding his hands to grip your ass, pulling you further against him, letting him take you more and more and more.

“Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?” You blink dumbly at his request, before slowly inching a hand in-between your sweaty thighs. Your fingers split into a V, surrounding where he fills you, and you shake your head, dropping your hand. It’s too much, too sensitive. “That’s okay,” he drawls, making your heart skip a beat. “I’ll take care of you.”

He drops forward, sweaty chest pressing against your back, and his hips continue to pummel into yours, cock pressing into your so sweetly. Jake snakes an arm beneath you, blunt finger rubbing quick little circles into your clit. 

You cry out, squirming away as he relentlessly attacked your poor, tired nub. It’s overwhelming, face pressed into his sheets, the scent of sex filling the air, the way your cunt’s being shown more attention than it has in a while, and most importantly, Jake Seresin's lips reaching anywhere they can- your jaw, shoulder, back. He’s everywhere. And you can’t hold off the inevitable any longer. 

Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, pulsing around him as you shake under him. You gush around him, an extra burst of wetness almost forcing Jake out of your cunt. He grunts, doing his best to keep his rhythm consistent, keep it nice to help you ride it out.

“There you go there you go. Just like that.” 

You throw an arm back, nails clawing into whatever part of him they land on. 

“Cum in me Jake, please, please.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, but you don’t care. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” His hand drops from your throbbing clit, granting you relief as his pace falters. When he finishes, he’s loud right in your ear, spurts of cum filling your soaking pussy. 

The stillness that follows is thick, hanging heavy in the air. You accept the weight of him inside and out, taking deep breaths as you try to calm down. 

Jake stays inside of you, and he curls around you ever so slightly, desire and need to be close to you outweighing the discomfort of his softening cock. 

It’s nice, being stuffed full like this. But eventually, you squirm, tapping his arm that rests near your head. 

“Jake.”

A chaste kiss is pressed to your sweaty shoulder. 

“I know, honey. I know.” Jake pulls out of you slowly, and you wince at the feeling. He hops off the bed, leaving you to curl up on his bed, trying to ignore the sticky cum that’s spread along you. 

The next moments pass in a blur; you vaguely feel a damp cloth clean your pussy, a sweatshirt slid over your shoulders, and a glass of water gently pressed into your hands as you sit up. 

You blink up at Jake, sipping your water as you take in his appearance. Hair messy, chest flushed, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. 

“How ya feeling?” he asks gently, sitting next to you. 

“Like I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.” Jake smirks at you, a sick sense of pride filling him before he rubs your thigh.  

“I’ll take care of ya then too.” And that makes you smile so sweetly at him, he feels the breath get knocked out of him. You stretch your arms above your head, twisting as you get comfortable in his bed. 

“And I’m feeling stupid because we could’ve been doing this for months.” Jake laughs at that, before humming in agreement. 

“We’ll we’ve got a lot of time to make up for… later of course. I need my beauty sleep.” You roll your eyes at that, and he kisses your shoulder, before curling around you, a smile on his face as he reluctantly drifts to sleep. After all, his dream was finally a reality.

happy womens day to everyones favorite woman

Do you have any enemies to lovers while fake dating prompts?

One my **personal** favourite tropes.

OTP ENEMIES TO LOVERS WHILE FAKE DATING

Prompts

A is reluctantly visiting B in the hospital (maybe they’re the one who put them there) and had to tell the doctors that they’re engaged so they can see them.

A made a bet with an old friend that they’d be dating someone in six months. The six months are up and A doesn’t want to lose the bet, so they get B to pretend to date them for a few days.

A and B were childhood friends who now hate each other. Their families are really close and have no idea that they’re enemies. They pretend to be friends when their families meet up for a party/reunion, but it backfires when everyone just thinks that they’re dating.

A needs B as a fake date for a week long camping trip that doubles as a school reunion (or a family reunion or anything else). Cue one week of hiking, stargazing and being cramped into a tent together.

A and B are part of a criminal group. When they’re caught, they pretend to be married so that they can’t testify against each other in court.

Oneliners

“I’m beginning to think that you don’t hate me as much as you say”

“Woah woah woah, when did this turn into dating?” “Just go with it okay?”

“Complimenting you is revolting”

“I have never felt anything but resentment towards you”

“When you said that you loved me, did you mean it?”

“No offense- actually, full offense, but every time you speak I want to jump out of a window”

“You’re not even my type” “Pshhhh I’m the embodiment of your type”

“This is all fake, don’t you get it?”

“I never though I’d see you like this”

“If you hate holding my hand so much, why haven’t you let go?”

“Come on, it’s obligatory date night”

“Your mother just pulled me aside and told me to call her ‘mom’. I think I’m going to start crying”

“I hate that we have this much in common”

“So thats’s why you don’t talk about your family”

“The whole time we’ve been ‘dating’, we’ve been putting up a front. You’ve fallen in love with an act”

Also see:

Fake dating oneliners

Enemies to Lover oneliners and prompts

More enemies to lovers prompts

Let me know if you’d like me to add to the list.

Leave requests for other oneliners / prompts!