your pace was fast. perhaps too fast, even for an f1 driver.
how could a sloppy, silly kiss turn into this? the race winner in your bed, mouth agape as you ride him. you can feel him so deep inside you, wanting to erupt. and he does.
Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader (pre-relationship)
Genre: Fluff, slow-burn
Summary: When Lando shows up uninvited to your backyard with iced coffee and taking his hoodie off, you know trouble is ahead.
⸻
The sun was unapologetically bright, the kind that soaked into your skin and made your bones feel like they were humming. You were stretched across an old striped towel in your backyard, sunglasses crooked on your face, legs lazily splayed and still damp from the garden hose.
Your phone lay beside you on the grass, playing soft music. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Boring, even.
Until your back gate creaked.
You didn’t move at first—too content to be concerned. “If you’re a murderer,” you called, “at least bring me a cold drink before you kill me.”
“No promises,” came a familiar, smirking voice.
You turned your head and squinted over your sunglasses. There stood Lando, curls slightly wind-tossed, wearing a hoodie far too warm for the weather and a self-satisfied grin.
And in each hand? A large iced coffee.
You stared. “You actually came.”
He raised the drinks. “You sounded like you were melting. I figured it was a caffeine emergency.”
“I was also enjoying the solitude,” you teased, sitting up slightly.
“Sure you were.” He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the towel next to you without hesitation. “Your Spotify taste says otherwise.”
You snorted. “You mean excellent and unbothered?”
“I mean chaotic and vaguely nostalgic.” He set your drink beside your knee and then—without warning—reached behind his neck and peeled his hoodie off in one slow motion, tossing it to the side.
You blinked as your brain short-circuited.
He was already tanned from traveling, the sun catching golden on his shoulders and arms. He was only wearing swimming shorts underneath. No shirt. No warning. Just him, stretching out beside you like it was nothing.
You took a long sip of coffee mostly to hide your face. “Okay. You can stay.”
He gave you a smug little smile. “I already did.”
The two of you sat in the sun, quietly sipping, the air warm and comfortable. His bare shoulder bumped yours once. Then twice. You didn’t move.
After a moment, Lando said, “You know, this could be a trap.”
You tilted your head. “Me, in a swimsuit, sunbathing in my backyard, drinking iced coffee… is the trap?”
“No, the trap is me letting my guard down because you look like that,” he said, casually, but with just enough edge to make your stomach flip.
You choked slightly on your coffee. “Excuse me?”
Lando turned his head to look at you, eyes glinting. “I’m just saying, you know what you’re doing.”
“I literally look like a swamp witch trying to get a tan.”
He leaned in a little, voice low and amused. “And yet, here I am. Flustered.”
You raised a brow. “You’re flustered?”
He hesitated. “Slightly. It’s the sunglasses. The smugness. The legs.”
You fought the smile tugging at your lips. “Wow. So much power I didn’t know I had.”
“I’m deeply uncomfortable,” he said, sipping his drink again to hide his face.
You smirked. “Want me to cover up?”
He shot you a quick look. “Don’t you dare.”
Silence settled again, thick with amusement and a little bit of something heavier.
You were the one to break it. “You’re not usually this easy to fluster.”
“I’m not usually around you when you’re laying in the sun looking like a smug little goddess.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “…Okay. That one flustered me.”
He grinned wide, triumphant. “Finally.”
You shook your head, leaning back beside him. “You really just show up in my yard with coffee, take your shirt off, and make me blush?”
“Apparently.”
“Rude.”
“Effective.”
You both laughed, and something warm settled in your chest. Something that wasn’t just the sun.
After a while, you whispered, “You said you were flustered…”
He hummed. “Mhm.”
You grinned slowly. His eyes flicked to yours. That familiar smirk returned—but fainter this time. Softer.
He leaned back again, arms folded behind his head like this was just any normal day. His stomach stretched as he yawned, obnoxiously comfortable.
“You still drinking that coffee?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Good,” he said. “Because I think I’m staying a while.”
And you let him.
⸻
The sun had started to sink, lazy and golden, casting long shadows across the grass and dipping everything in that soft, almost-fictional light that made the world feel dreamlike.
You were still lying beside Lando, half on your towel, half on the warm grass, your now-empty iced coffee cup abandoned somewhere by your foot. The silence between you was easy, broken only by the occasional flutter of leaves and the soft clink of ice in the cup Lando kept swirling around just to annoy you.
But then the breeze picked up. Subtle, but cool. Enough to make your skin prickle.
You shivered just slightly.
Lando noticed instantly. “Cold?”
You considered lying. Then considered freezing. Then gave up. “A little.”
Without a word, he reached over to the spot beside him, grabbed his hoodie—the one he’d casually stripped off earlier, ruining your afternoon in the best possible way—and tossed it onto your stomach.
“Put it on,” he said. “You look like a sun-drunk cat who forgot the temperature drops after 6 PM.”
You made a face. “It probably smells like you.”
He grinned. “Yeah. That’s the point.”
You narrowed your eyes but tugged the hoodie on anyway. It was warm. It was soft. And—ugh—it smelled like him. That mix of sun, something expensive, and just a little bit of mischief.
It was also so soft.
He snorted. “You look like a child who stole from the laundry basket.”
“You chose to give it to me,” you said smugly, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. “Now you’ll never get it back.”
“Oh no,” he deadpanned. “What a loss.”
You turned your head and looked at him, his curls now glowing from the dying sun, his bare chest freckled with gold. He looked… calm. Too calm.
So naturally, you had to ruin it.
“You know,” you said sweetly, “it’s getting a little unfair how good you look shirtless in this light.”
His head whipped toward you. “Don’t start.”
You batted your lashes. “I’m just appreciating the view.”
“You’re trying to kill me.”
“No, I’m trying to enjoy my evening.” You stretched dramatically, arms above your head, hoodie sleeves flopping uselessly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
His eyes stayed locked on yours. “Too late.”
You swallowed. The air suddenly felt warmer again.
After a beat, he shifted a little closer. Not a lot. Just enough that his knee bumped against yours.
You didn’t move.
“Do you do this often?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Lay out here like this?”
“Sometimes,” you said. “When I want to escape my brain.”
“Is it working?”
You looked at him. The way his fingers played with a stray blade of grass. The way he wasn’t looking at you, not really—just watching the sky above with a soft frown.
“Yeah,” you said honestly. “But you’re kind of making it worse.”
That caught him off guard. “Me?”
You smiled gently. “My brain doesn’t shut up around you.”
Lando blinked. You could see the moment he froze, like his brain couldn’t decide between laughing or running away.
“You just say things like that?” he muttered.
“What, the truth?”
He finally looked at you. “No one’s supposed to say that stuff out loud.”
You rolled onto your side, propping your head up on your hand. “Then why are your ears red?”
He groaned and flopped backward, covering his face with his arm. “I’m never going to recover from this afternoon.”
“You’re welcome.”
He slowly peeked out from under his arm, curls sticking in every direction. “You’re dangerous.”
You leaned a little closer. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t let you suffer.”
That got him. He laughed—bright and surprised—and reached over to flick your hoodie sleeve.
“You’re not even trying anymore,” he accused. “You just know it shuts me up.”
“And yet,” you said, dramatically flopping onto your back again, “you’re still here.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“You’re mine.”
Silence.
Too much silence.
You panicked a little and added quickly, “I mean—technically. Just in the sense of—like—this backyard? I claim it. You’re on my turf. So.”
He was still staring at you.
You were not going to scream into the grass again.
Then—softly: “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t like that.”
You blinked.
He was still staring.
You were 90% sure your heart had just stopped.
And then—his voice broke the quiet. Light. Casual. But not.
“Move over.”
“What?”
He nudged your leg. “The grass is poking me. Your towel’s softer.”
You slid an inch away. He slid in, closer than before. Your arms brushed. Your knees touched.
And just like that, the sun disappeared behind the trees, and all the light that was left seemed to be coming from him.
⸻
By the time the last of the sunlight dipped below the fence line, everything had quieted. Even the breeze held its breath.
You could hear the distant buzz of summer—bugs, maybe, or far-off lawnmowers—but it all felt miles away. Here, in the tiny world you and Lando had carved out on one towel in your backyard, there was only warmth, silence, and the sharp, steady beat of your heart.
He hadn’t moved much since sliding in beside you. Maybe his breathing had slowed. Maybe yours had quickened. All you knew was that every inch between you felt alive.
Lando exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding something in. “You know,” he said, so quietly it almost didn’t register, “I wasn’t planning on staying this long.”
You turned your head slightly. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t look at you, just traced a faint line in the grass with his finger. “I was just gonna drop off the coffee. Make a dumb joke. Leave.”
You smiled faintly. “You still made the dumb joke.”
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. But now I’m here. And I… don’t really want to go.”
That made your chest ache a little. The good kind. The kind that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one caught in this slow-burn spiral.
You tilted your head, voice gentler. “Why’d you stay?”
He glanced at you then. Not a full look—just enough for his lashes to catch the light. “Because it’s quiet here. And warm. And I like the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”
Your breath hitched. You opened your mouth to deny it. To joke. To change the subject. But nothing came out.
Lando finally turned to face you fully, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. His eyes searched yours, like he was looking for permission he wasn’t sure he deserved.
And then he said, very quietly, “Can I try something?”
You nodded before you even understood the question.
His hand moved slowly—almost uncertain—as he reached up and pushed your sunglasses up into your hair. His fingers brushed your temple, lingered just a second too long. The world seemed to pause.
“I like your eyes better when I can see them,” he murmured.
And just like that, your body forgot how to function.
You were still processing that when he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, leaning in—not fast, not demanding, just close enough that your noses were nearly touching.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, like the words might break if he said them any louder.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t say anything at all.
You just closed the space between you.
The kiss was soft. Careful. So much tension threaded through it that it almost came apart at the seams. It wasn’t desperate—it was deliberate. A question wrapped in warmth. A quiet confession dressed in sunshine and old towels and iced coffee.
When he finally pulled back—barely—he pressed his forehead to yours and sighed like he’d been holding that breath for years.
“Well,” he murmured, “there goes my afternoon.”
You laughed. Quiet. Breathless. “I think it was already gone the moment you took your shirt off.”
“Tragic,” he whispered. “But fair.”
He shifted again, this time flopping back onto the towel with the most dramatic sigh you’d ever heard. His arm, without really asking, found its way beneath your head, pulling you gently to rest on his shoulder. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You stayed there. Together. Quiet. Close.
And when the stars finally began to show up—one by one like shy guests—you felt his thumb trace idle circles along your arm.
“Hey,” he murmured eventually.
“Yeah?”
“Next time,” he said sleepily, “can I still be flustered? Or is that a one-time deal?”
You smiled against his shoulder, heart impossibly full. “Depends on how short your shorts are.”
He snorted. “Evil.”
“You knew what this was.”
“I didn’t. But I really, really want to.”
You didn’t say anything. You just reached down, tangled your fingers with his, and held on.
And in the cool night air, wrapped in his hoodie and something that felt like the start of everything, you stayed.
⸻
Eventually, the stars multiplied—spilling across the sky like someone had cracked it open and let the light leak through. The warmth of the day had faded, replaced by something quieter, something slower. Lando was still beside you, arm beneath your head, fingers linked with yours.
You weren’t sure how long you lay like that. Long enough for the last bits of light to vanish. Long enough for your heart to settle into a rhythm that matched his.
And then his voice broke the silence, low and hesitant: “So, uh… do we just… sleep out here now?”
You turned your face into his shoulder to hide a smile. “You’re the one who said you were staying a while.”
“Right. I meant like… emotionally. Not physically.” He paused. “I didn’t bring a toothbrush.”
You laughed softly, and it made him grin. “You’ve stayed over before.”
“Yeah, but that was Mario Kart and couch blanket territory. This feels different.”
You lifted your head just slightly, enough to look at him. His curls were a little messy now, his expression open in a way that made something in your chest twist.
“It is different,” you said quietly.
Lando blinked. Like he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.
Then, “I don’t want to ruin it.”
You tilted your head. “Lando…”
“I’m serious.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I don’t want this to be a moment we pretend didn’t happen.”
You studied him. “Do I seem like someone who forgets kisses that easily?”
He smiled faintly. “You’re kind of intimidating, actually.”
That made you laugh again. “You’ve literally watched me cry over a burnt quesadilla.”
“And I still showed up in your backyard with iced coffee. Clearly, I’m in too deep.”
You hummed. “Yeah. You kind of are.”
Another beat passed.
Then: “Wanna come inside?”
He blinked, surprised by your question.
You added, “There’s leftover pasta. And probably a blanket that doesn’t smell like grass.”
“And toothbrushes?”
You grinned. “I might even let you borrow mine.”
Lando sat up, stretching with a dramatic groan, and then offered you a hand. “You’re the worst host ever, but I’m weirdly into it.”
You took it, standing slowly, a little cold now that you’d left the towel behind. His hoodie still hung around you, the sleeves long past your hands.
“You are keeping that, aren’t you?” he said, eyeing it.
You nodded solemnly. “Forever. It’s mine now.”
He just smiled, slipping his hand into yours again like he didn’t even have to think about it.
The two of you wandered back inside—quiet footsteps, soft laughter, the sliding glass door clicking shut behind you. You didn’t bother with lights. The moonlight spilling in through the windows was enough. Familiar shapes, soft shadows, the comfort of a home that already knew him.
You tossed your empty cup in the sink. He leaned against the counter, still shirtless, still golden from the sun.
And he was still looking at you like he hadn’t quite recovered from earlier.
You gestured toward the hallway. “Blanket or pasta first?”
He hesitated. Then crossed the room in a few slow steps and tugged gently on the hoodie sleeve that hung from your arm.
“I think I want you first.”
Your heart gave a traitorous skip.
You didn’t say anything—you just stepped in closer, arms looping around his waist, forehead resting against his chest.
And in that quiet, kitchen-lit moment, Lando wrapped his arms around you and held on like he wasn’t going anywhere. Like this was exactly where he was always supposed to be.
He kissed the top of your head. “This is a very emotionally reckless hoodie.”
You mumbled into his chest, “Should’ve thought of that before you took it off.”
He chuckled. “Next time, I’m bringing two.”
You felt his laughter vibrate through his chest where your cheek rested. It was warm, steady. Familiar.
Then came the quiet again—the kind of silence that didn’t ask to be filled. His arms stayed around you, fingertips tapping a slow rhythm against your back like they had nowhere better to be. Like they already belonged there.
But after a moment, you pulled back just enough to look at him. “You’re still not getting it back, by the way.”
Lando raised a brow. “The hoodie?”
You nodded. “It’s legally mine now. Common law ownership.”
He grinned, lips twitching. “I see. You’re going for emotional squatter’s rights.”
“Exactly. It now lives in my closet, between my emotional baggage and the sweater I stole from my sister.”
His smile softened again, like it always did with you. “What if I asked nicely?”
You stood on your toes just a little, nose brushing his. “Then I’d let you visit it. Supervised.”
His breath caught, almost too quietly to catch. But you did. You always did with him.
“I think I’d rather visit you,” he said.
It was barely above a whisper.
You stepped back first, only because you had to. “Okay, Casanova. Pasta’s going to get lonely.”
He groaned, throwing his head back like you’d just delivered the greatest tragedy known to man. “You can’t just flirt like that and then pivot to carbohydrates.”
You smirked, already padding toward the kitchen cupboards. “Watch me.”
He followed you anyway, of course. Still barefoot, still a little dazed, like gravity didn’t quite work right when you were near. You grabbed the pasta container from the fridge, popped it into the microwave, and leaned against the counter while it warmed—arms crossed, hoodie sleeves bunched at your elbows.
Lando watched you in that quiet way he sometimes did. Less teasing, more observing. Like he was memorizing you in the mundane.
“You really gonna let me use your toothbrush?” he asked finally.
You tilted your head, playful. “I said maybe.”
He squinted, suspicious. “So that wasn’t a flirty offer? That was a trap?”
“Everything’s a trap with me. Haven’t you learned that by now?”
“I’m learning it the hard way,” he said, inching closer. “Still here, though.”
You looked up at him just as the microwave beeped, loud and ridiculous between you. He didn’t move away. Didn’t stop smiling.
“I’m not kidding,” he added softly. “I think I could get used to this.”
You opened the microwave door to buy yourself a second. “Leftover pasta and emotional sabotage?”
He bumped your hip with his. “Exactly.”
You plated the food—he stole a bite before you could even grab forks—and the two of you ended up curled on the couch with a shared bowl, legs tangled under the blanket you found in the linen closet.
He fed you a spiraled noodle with way too much ceremony. You retaliated by flinging a bit of basil at him.
The laughter came easy. So did the closeness.
Eventually, the food was gone, the bowl abandoned on the coffee table, and your head found his shoulder again like it was meant to. The room was dim, TV humming low in the background, some sitcom neither of you were really watching.
Lando shifted slightly, resting his cheek on top of your head. “So… this is definitely not Mario Kart and couch blankets anymore, huh?”
You hummed, content. “Nope. It’s hoodie theft and pasta-based intimacy now.”
He grinned against your hair. “God, you’re dangerous.”
And you smiled—because he said it like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
You stayed like that for a while, the kind of while that made time stretch and slow and feel like it didn’t need to be counted. His arm stayed around your shoulders, your legs draped across his like they’d done it a thousand times before.
The TV murmured some laugh track in the background, and you could feel him breathing—steady, calm, like the day had wound down into something safe.
“You know,” he said eventually, voice soft, “I used to think nights like this only happened in movies.”
You glanced up at him, your cheek brushing his collarbone. “Because of the pasta?”
He smirked. “Because of the girl who keeps stealing my clothes and making me feel like I belong somewhere.”
Your chest tightened. That quiet, aching, warm kind of tight.
“I’m not trying to make you feel that way,” you murmured.
“I know,” he said, eyes on you now. “That’s what makes it worse. Or better. I haven’t decided yet.”
You reached up, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “You belong, Lando.”
His breath hitched again—barely. But it did.
The teasing was gone now. So was the grin. What was left was this soft sort of awe, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he didn’t know what to do with how he felt.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said.
You blinked.
Not because it shocked you—no. You’d felt it, too. In the way he looked at you. In the way he always came back, always stayed.
But hearing it out loud made something inside you crack open.
So you whispered, “Then maybe you should start bringing a toothbrush.”
Lando stared at you. Then laughed—quiet, breathless, full.
“I’m serious,” you added, your fingers playing with the hem of your stolen hoodie. “I can’t exactly be seen dating a guy with poor dental hygiene.”
He pulled you in again, arms tight around your middle, face buried in your neck now.
“You’re unreal,” he mumbled against your skin.
“You’re unreal,” he mumbled against your skin. His voice was muffled, warm, a little dazed.
You felt the soft brush of his curls against your neck as he lingered there—breathing you in, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
You didn’t say anything at first. Just ran your fingers gently through his hair, slow and steady, until his grip loosened enough for you both to breathe again.
“Come on,” you whispered, nudging him slightly. “Bed before one of us falls asleep on the kitchen floor.”
“I’d risk it,” he said, but let you lead him anyway.
The hallway was dim, the kind of quiet that made the whole house feel softer somehow. Familiar shadows, creaking floorboards, your hoodie sleeves still swallowing your hands as he followed close behind. His fingers brushed your back lightly as you walked, never quite letting you get too far ahead.
You pushed the bedroom door open and turned back toward him, only to find him already watching you.
“You sure?” he asked, voice quieter now.
You nodded. “Yeah. I want you here.”
He didn’t say anything—just stepped closer and kissed your forehead in a way that made your knees go a little weak.
It wasn’t rushed, what came next. It wasn’t fumbling or heavy or unsure.
It was slow.
He waited as you pulled back the blankets. Let you crawl in first. Crawled in after, his arm sliding beneath your head like it belonged there, like this was already routine. And when you turned to face him, eyes adjusting to the moonlight slicing in through the blinds, he was already looking at you.
You tucked your hand beneath his shirt, just at his ribs, fingers brushing warm skin. He didn’t flinch. Just sighed, a little content noise, and moved in closer.
His nose bumped yours.
“Still not over today,” he whispered.
You smiled sleepily. “Me neither.”
You leaned in and kissed him once, soft and slow—no pressure, no rush. Just two people who had been circling something for far too long finally letting it happen.
And when you pulled back, his eyes were still half-closed, his lips still curved.
“I like falling asleep next to you,” he murmured.
You buried your face against his chest. “Then don’t stop.”
His arm tightened around you. “Not planning to.”
And with your heart steady against his, the two of you drifted—wrapped in borrowed clothes, lingering affection, and the quiet kind of comfort that didn’t need any more words.
synopsis: Every night since the f1 season ended Charles Leclerc hosted parties every single night; and his neighbor is getting tired of it. One night she returns home from an exhausting day and comes home to once again: another party.
Monaco was asleep as she walked home from running all over the city. Her boss needed jewelry pieces from Dior for a client, and then bags from Gucci for a shoot— the list goes on.
A bouquet of flowers rested in her arms and her right shoulder sagged because of the heaving tote she carried around.
She wasn’t particularly happy about returning home. Her neighbor—Charles Leclerc—yes, the f1 driver, throws parties every night, and they keep her awake.
She was sure that he forgot about her existence due to the loud music, banging, and yells that are heard from his large house that is mounted on the cliffside above her small home, both the houses far from any others.
While his was modern, and white, and brand new— her’s was more vintage. The bricks outside were stained with salt and chipped everywhere, the glass windows were stained with beautiful flowers allowing the room to be filled with rainbows when the sun shone brightly through them.
As she expected, another party. “What the fuck, man?” She mutters to herself, reaching her keys as she walks up to her door. She unlocks it, the bell attached to the door ringing through her ears. She smiles to herself remembering the first time she walked through that same door, hearing the familiar chime of the gold bell.
Her cat rubbed itself on her legs as she walked in, kicking the door behind her. She was so incredibly exhausted that she didn’t even make a fuss about the music, didn’t make a fuss about her clothes or the makeup on her face, didn’t even kick off her heels as she plummeted onto her couch and fell asleep with the large bouquet on the floor and her bag left open beside it, all its contents spilling out.
She wasn’t even asleep for more than an hour when a loud shuffle was heard from outside her front door. Giggles emerging from the cracks of the door frame and a male voice, “Shush, we have to be quiet.”
That voice was way too familiar. She heard it everywhere in Monaco. Whether she was in a cafe, passing a jewelry store or even watching television, his voice was always there.
She stood up from the couch, steadying herself as she made her way to the front door, her hand on the doorknob until…
“Charles!” The female called out from behind the thick wooden door. “Oh, baby!”
She let out a laugh and the commotion stopped suddenly from outside. Her hands quickly found her mouth and she began shaking as she just couldn’t stop. It was like she was a young teenager again, finding her two most hated teachers make love on a desk…her desk.
After everything went quiet, including her, a knock was heard from the door. “Hey, I know you’re still there.” Charles was right, she was.
She wasn’t embarrassed, so she opened the door to see a flushed Charles. “Yes, Charles?” His hair was muddled up, the collar of his shirt all wonky, and lipstick was smudged on the corner of his mouth, leading down to his neck.
“You heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Stop playing dumb.”
“Yes, I heard and I don’t care what you do with women who isn’t your girlfriend. Just don’t do it in front of my house.”
Charles cleared his throat as she exposed the issue. The girl wasn’t his girlfriend and she knew that as Alexandra and her are colleagues whom have worked with each other on various projects.
“Don’t tell her.”
“Charles, she’s back tomorrow.” Alexandra had left Monaco to model for a brand in France. Charles was supposed to tag along but he weirdly denied, insisting he stayed home.
“I know, one last night of fun, huh?” He replied wiggling his brows.
“You’re just like Arthur.” She bit at him. Ok, fine. She did have a history with the Leclerc’s. She dated charles’ younger brother, Arthur who cheated on her with his ex-girlfriend because guess what! He cheated on her too. “I don’t know what Alex sees in you.”
As she attempted to close the door on him he pushed open once again, startling her. “Ok, look. I’m done, okay? No more girls, just Alex.”
“Slip up one more time and I’m telling her. You don’t deserve her, Charlie.”
“I know I don’t, Amour.”
Ok, shit! She does have more history with Charles himself. Long story short: they dated during school, he then lost everyone around him so he cheated on her (well…duh), then begged for her forgiveness. And yes, she did forgive him—NO! She didn’t get back with him.
“Ok, good night now.”
“Come to my next party, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.”
AUTHORS NOTE
HIII this is a mess…sorry!! i just needed to post something
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finally gives in to the tension Y/N has been teasing him with all night, determined to remind her exactly who she belongs to. Their night quickly turns into something possessive, filthy, and intimate—him whispering promises of breeding her, worshipping her body, and filling her until she can’t take any more. Even after he cums, he doesn’t stop.
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི word count ━━━━━━━ 3.4k
ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, breast play, nipples play, mirror sex, multiple positions, rough sex, dirty talk
Based on this request.
Y/N lay sprawled across the plush, white sheets of his bed, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the ache between her thighs. Lando stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless, his hands on his hips, his eyes burning into her with a mixture of desire and something deeper—something possessive.
“You’re not getting away with it tonight,” he said, his voice low and teasing, the corners of his mouth curling into that smirk that always made her stomach flutter.
She arched a brow, propping herself up on her elbows. “Getting away with what?” she asked, her tone innocent, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her.
“Playing this game.” He stepped closer, his fingers trailing up her calf, sending a shiver through her. “You’ve been teasing me all night, love. And now you’re lying there looking like that, expecting me to just...” He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly. “No. Not tonight.”
She laughed softly, stretching her legs out before pulling them back, her toes brushing against his stomach. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, though her breath hitched as his hand moved higher, his thumb brushing the inside of her thigh. “What exactly do you plan to do about it?”
Lando leaned down, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her lips. “I’m going to make sure you remember who you belong to,” he murmured, his voice dripping with intent. “Every time you squirm, every time you moan... you’ll know it’s because of me. Because I’m the one who gets to have you like this.”
Her heart raced, her body responding to his words before he even touched her. She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off with a deep, searing kiss that left her breathless. His hands were everywhere—tangled in her hair, gripping her waist, tracing the curve of her spine—and she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but feel.
When he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her chest heaving. He smirked again, that damned smirk, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “See? You’re already falling apart for me.”
She narrowed her eyes, though the effect was ruined by the way her body leaned into his. “You’re insufferable,” she said, her voice shaky.
“And yet,” Lando drawled, his voice thick with amusement and something darker, something possessive, “you’re not stopping me.” His fingers slid beneath the waistband of her shorts, his touch deliberate and unhurried. The moment his fingertips brushed against her bare skin, she gasped, her body tensing as if electrified.
Her breath hitched, her hips arching ever so slightly, betraying her need. “Lando...” His name escaped her lips in a breathy whisper, more plea than protest.
He chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “No underwear, huh?” he teased, his fingers dipping lower, finding her already slick with arousal. “Seems like you were planning this all along, love.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she bit her lip, her eyes locking with his as his fingers explored her, tracing her folds with a maddening slowness. “You ruin me,” she breathed, though her hips betrayed her, grinding against his hand as if begging for more.
“And yet,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, “you’re fucking soaked for me.” His fingers pressed against her entrance, teasing but not entering, drawing a desperate whine from her lips. “Tell me, Y/N,” he prompted, his thumb circling her clit with torturous precision, “how much do you want me to make you come right now?”
Her hands fisted the sheets, her body trembling under his touch. “Lando, please...” she begged, her voice breaking as he slipped a finger inside her, slow and deliberate, filling her in a way that made her toes curl.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Say it again. Say it like you mean it.”
Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body arching into his hand. “Please... don’t stop.”
His lips curved into a satisfied smirk, his eyes dark with hunger. “That’s my girl.”
His fingers started to move inside her slowly, almost teasingly, as if he were savoring every inch of her. She could feel herself growing wetter, slick with arousal, her body arching instinctively toward him, desperate for more. His breath was hot against her ear, his voice a low, sensual rumble that sent shivers cascading down her spine. “Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing her neck in a way that made her shiver. “Tell me you want me to fill you up. To make you mine in every way.”
Her breath hitched, her hands gripping the sheets tighter as his fingers curled inside her, hitting just the right spot that made her cry out softly. “Lando...” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, her heart pounding in her chest.
He didn’t let up, his thumb circling her clit with a maddening rhythm that made her see stars. “Say it, love,” he urged, his voice rough with desire, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that left her breathless. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to put a baby inside you, to brand you as mine forever.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t shy away from the heat in his gaze. Instead, she pressed her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his as she whispered, “Yes, Lando. I want you... I want you to fill me up, to make me yours in every way.”
He smirked, that smug, knowing smirk that always sent a thrill through her.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he purred, his voice dripping with praise that made her cheeks flush despite the heat pooling between her thighs.
His fingers trailed away from her wetness, and she whimpered at the sudden loss, but he didn’t leave her wanting for long. His hands moved to the waistband of her shorts, yanking them down her legs in one swift motion, leaving her bare from the waist down, completely exposed to his hungry gaze.
But he wasn’t finished.
His eyes roamed over her, dark and greedy, before shifting to the thin fabric still covering her chest. He leaned over her, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her top, dragging it slowly upward until her breasts spilled free. She arched instinctively, gasping at the sudden cool air against her flushed skin as he peeled the top over her head and tossed it aside.
Now she was fully bare beneath him, and his breath caught in his throat.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, eyes roaming every inch of her with reverence and hunger. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never.”
She shivered under his gaze, her body tingling with anticipation. His hand moved to his own shorts, palming the bulge that strained against the fabric. He was hard as a rock, the outline of his cock unmistakable, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight. He always got like this for her—hard, desperate, completely consumed by her. And the best part? She barely had to lift a finger to have him like this.
He wasted no time, shoving his shorts and boxers down in one fluid motion, his cock springing free. Her eyes flew to him immediately, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of him—thick, aching, and dripping with need. She couldn’t help but salivate, her mouth watering at the thought of him filling her, claiming her. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire, her body already begging for him. He grinned, running a hand down his length as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You ready for me, love?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, but there was no mistaking the hunger in his tone. She nodded, her heart racing as he closed the distance between them, ready to make her his once again.
His lips crashed into hers again, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself between her legs. She could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against her, and she whimpered into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough. “Say you want me to put a baby in you.”
Her breath caught, her body trembling with need. “Lando...”
“Say it,” he insisted, his hands sliding up her thighs, his thumbs brushing over her hips. “I need to hear you say it.”
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I... I want you to put a baby in me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
His eyes darkened, and he kissed her again, deep and possessive, before pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise. “Now let me take care of you.”
He entered her slowly, inch by torturous inch, and she gasped, her body stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hot against her skin. “Fuck, you feel incredible,” he muttered, his hips rolling against hers.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he cursed under his breath, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of her head. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, his voice strained.
“I thought that was your job,” she teased, though her voice broke as he thrust into her, hitting that spot that made her see stars.
He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear. “Oh, trust me, love. I’m just getting started.”
Lando’s smirk deepened as he slowed his thrusts, savoring the way her body clenched around him. His hands roamed her curves, one settling on her hip while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that made her gasp. “You ever think about it, love?” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling, sending shivers down her spine. “My baby growing in you? Tits sore. Belly round. Still letting me fuck you full because you can’t help yourself?” His words were a tease, but there was an underlying possessiveness that made her heart race.
She moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body trembled under his. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice breaking halfway through his name, her body betraying just how much his words turned her on.
“That’s it,” he growled, his thrusts growing deeper, more deliberate. “You’ll look so fucking pretty knocked up.” His hand slid down her stomach, his fingers splayed over her abdomen as if he could already feel the roundness he was imagining. “Always wanted to see you carrying my baby, love. You’d be fucking radiant.”
Her breath hitched, her body arching into his as she clung to him, her mind swimming with the images he was painting so vividly. She could almost feel it—the weight of his child growing inside her, the way he’d look at her with that mix of pride and hunger, the way he’d still want her, need her, even then.
“Fuck, Lando…” she whimpered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.
He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear. “You like that, yeah? The thought of me putting a baby in you?” She nodded, her cheeks flushing as her body clenched around him again, tighter this time, drawing a groan from his lips. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice thick with praise. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re stuffed full of me.”
His thrusts grew faster, harder, and she could feel the way his body was beginning to tighten, his control slipping as he drove them both closer to the edge. Her breasts bounced with each movement, and his hands slid up to cup them, squeezing and teasing as he groaned. “Fuck, look at them. Look how they bounce every time I fill you.”
She whimpered, her body arching into his touch as her nipples hardened under his fingers. “Lando…”
When she whined, he let out a growl and flipped them over with a grunt, settling her on top of him. “Ride me. I need to see ‘em up close when you’re losing it on top of me.”
He was losing control—her moans, the way her tits bounced with every thrust, the way her body clenched around him—it was all too much. With a grunt of restraint, Lando pulled out of her slowly, his cock slick and twitching.
“Get on top,” he rasped, already falling back onto the mattress, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyes glued to her flushed, wrecked body. “Come ride me, love. I wanna see every fucking inch of you when you take me.”
She didn’t hesitate. Her legs trembled slightly as she straddled him, gripping his cock in one hand and lining him up. Lando groaned deep in his chest as she sank down on him inch by inch, her walls stretching around him, taking all of him inside.
“Fuck,” he growled, hands gripping her hips as she bottomed out, fully seated on him.
Her heart raced as she adjusted, her hands settling on his chest as she began to move, her hips rolling against his in a rhythm that made him moan. His hands immediately went to her breasts, squeezing and teasing as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes.
“That’s it, baby. Fucking ride me.”
She moaned, her head falling back as she ground down on him, her body trembling with the pleasure of it. His hands roamed her body, one sliding down to grip her hip while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that made her gasp. “So fucking perfect,” he muttered, his eyes locked on her as she moved.
“Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap.
“You want me to come watching you bounce?” he growled, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust up into her, the bed rocking beneath them. “I’m so fucking close. You want me to come just like this? Watching your perfect tits bounce while I fill you up?”
She whimpered, her body arching into his as she felt the pleasure cresting, threatening to overwhelm her. “Yes… please…”
He groaned, his hands sliding up to her breasts, squeezing and teasing as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “I want your tits in my mouth while you ride me.”
Her breath hitched as she leaned forward, her hands bracing on his chest as she offered herself to him. His lips immediately wrapped around her nipple, sucking and teasing as he thrust up into her, his movements growing sloppier as he lost himself in her. She moaned, her hips rolling against his as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap.
“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his lips leaving her breast to trail kisses up her chest, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust up into her. “Ride me until I fill you. Don’t stop ‘til I’m spilling inside you, yeah? You want that?”
She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she felt the pleasure cresting, threatening to overwhelm her. “Yes… Lando…”
“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough with need as he thrust up into her, his grip on her hips tightening. “Tell me you want me to fuck a baby into you.”
Her breath hitched, her body trembling as she felt the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap. “I want you to… fuck a baby into me…” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.
Lando’s thrusts grew erratic, his grip on her hips tightening as he neared the edge. Suddenly, he pulled out, leaving her gasping at the sudden emptiness. Before she could protest, he flipped her onto all fours, positioning her in front of the mirror beside the bed. He knelt behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he slammed back into her, forcing a moan from her lips.
“Look at yourself,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. She lifted her eyes to the mirror, her cheeks flushing as she saw herself—her hair wild, her lips swollen, her body trembling under his. “Look at how you take me,” he continued, his thrusts deep and deliberate. “Like you were fucking made for it.” His hands moved to her waist, holding her steady as he drove into her harder, faster. “Gonna pump you so full, it’ll be dripping down your thighs.”
Her breath hitched as she watched herself in the mirror, her body arching into his, her eyelids fluttering as he hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. He reached up, gripping her chin and forcing her to hold his gaze in the reflection. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “Every inch of you. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”
When he came, it was deep inside her, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into her with a low groan. She felt it, the warmth of him filling her, and she whimpered, her body clenching around him as he held her close, his chest pressing against her back.
He nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing her skin as he whispered, “Still clenching around me, needy little thing… fuck, I love how your body begs for more even after I’ve filled you.” His voice was soft, almost tender, but there was no mistaking the possessiveness in his tone. She could still feel him inside her, still feel the warmth of him spilling into her, and she shuddered, her body trembling with the need for more.
He pressed his lips to her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he murmured, “Shh, I know, baby… you’re still aching. Let me take care of you. Don’t worry, I’m not done filling you up.” His words were a promise, and she whimpered, her body trembling with the need for more as he gently pulled out of her, his cum already beginning to drip down her thighs.
He shifted, kneeling behind her again as he watched his release trickle out of her. “Look at that—leaking already. Gotta fuck it back in, don’t I?” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Can’t waste a drop of me.”
He pressed two fingers against her entrance, pushing them inside her slowly, dragging his cum back into her as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her. She gasped, her body arching into his touch as he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. “You’re so wet, so fucking ruined… and still, you want more,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You want to come with my mess inside you, don’t you?”
She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he worked his fingers inside her, his thumb brushing her clit with every thrust. “Please… Lando…” she whimpered, her body trembling with the need for release.
“Good girls don’t waste what they’re given,” he purred, his voice dark and commanding. “So go on, come for me—make a mess with my cum on my fingers.”
His fingers moved faster, deeper, and she could feel the tension building inside her, tightening like a coil ready to snap. Her body arched into his touch, her breath hitching as her orgasm crashed over her, waves of pleasure coursing through her as she came on his fingers. He didn’t stop, his fingers continuing to move inside her, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling, her body slick with sweat.
She collapsed onto the bed, her body spent, her heart racing as he pulled his fingers out of her, his cum slick on his skin. He leaned down, pressing his chest against her back as he nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing her skin as he whispered, “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
She whimpered, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and he chuckled darkly, his hand moving to her stomach as he murmured, “Just wait until it’s my baby you’re carrying. You’ll be even more fucking perfect then.”
His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and something deeper, something primal.
He smirked, leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, possessive kiss. “Mine,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with need. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”
janainaart
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
baratheonpilled
snowghoul
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