lando norris x situationship!reader
warnings: explicit smut, asshole!lando x reader, blowjob, dom x sub, overstimulation, etc (kinda toxic but everything is consensual).
You let yourself in anyway, because Lando never locks the door when he’s waiting for you like this.
He’s already sitting on the couch. Shirtless. Black sweatpants, legs spread wide. Gold chain catching the low lamp light. McLaren charm swinging softly over his bare chest.
He doesn’t look up when you enter.
Just mutters: “Close the door.”
You stand there like an idiot, heart in your throat, already burning. You shouldn’t have come. You told yourself last time was the last time. That you’re done being just a warm mouth for his frustration, a soft hole for his stress.
Your knees hit the carpet before you even speak.
“See?” he says, finally meeting your eyes. “You always come back to me like that.”
Your hands shake as you crawl forward between his thighs. His cock’s already hard outlined against the fabric, tip damp with precum.
“I’m not just here to suck your dick.”
He raises a brow. Smiles, mean and cold.
Your stomach twists. You want to slap him. You want to crawl in his lap and beg him to touch you. You want to mean something.
You reach for his waistband.
Lando exhales hard when you pull his cock out already thick, flushed, ready. You wrap your fingers around him, thumb brushing over the head just to watch his jaw clench.
He taps the head against your tongue once, twice. Then slides in.
“God—fuck, you missed this, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t give you time to adjust. Doesn’t let you set the pace. He grabs your hair in one fist and fucks into your mouth like it’s what you’re good for, like that’s your purpose.
Your palms press against his thighs. You try to breathe, to focus, but your throat’s already aching, spit dripping down your chin. You moan around him, hum low and deep and it earns you a broken grunt.
“There she is,” he murmurs. “So fucking desperate. Can’t even wait five minutes without gagging on me.”
You’d fight him. But you’d lose.
You hate that you love it.
You pull off with a gasp, mouth raw. “You only call me when you’re hard.”
He stares right back, eyes dark.
“You think you’re more than this?” he asks, cock resting heavy on your lips. “Think I want you for a deep conversation?”
“Say it,” he demands. “Say what you are.”
You look up at him broken, breathless and whisper:
“And what do my toys do, pretty girl?”
You already know. You take him back in your mouth and let him use you.
Your lips stretch wide, throat burning again as he thrusts in hard. This time he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. One hand tightens in your hair while the other comes down fingers wrapping around your throat.
“Fuck, yeah. That’s it. Get messy for me.”
He squeezes just a little. Your vision flares. You whimper around him.
“Hands on me while you are on your knees in the carpet,” he pants. “That’s where you belong.”
Your nails dig into his skin. You feel him twitch.
And then he pulls out fast, sudden, leaving your lips parted and gasping.
But he leans forward, grabs your jaw.
You do. Without hesitation.
“That’s the only time you got depth, baby. Right there.”
Your throat is already raw.
Your mascara's smudged. Knees burning. Breathing wrecked.
He looks like he’s just getting started.
“Look at you,” he mutters, staring down with a tilt to his head like he’s inspecting a piece of art. “Spit all over your chin, mouth wide open. You love this shit.”
You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat is too raw and your pride is somewhere crushed under your knees.
But your lips part again anyway. You lean forward. Ask without asking.
“Of course you do. You’d rather gag on my cock than tell me what you actually want.”
Your hands curl into fists at your thighs.
You won’t ask for his love, his time or his attention. You won’t beg for more. Because every time you try, he pulls you back with this. With sweat and skin and his hands in your hair and you forget how to say anything except please.
Lando stands, guiding your head with his fist in your hair until your face is tilted up, mouth open like a fucking offering. His chain swings above your face, white gold McLaren logo catching the light as he drags his cock over your cheek, your lips, your tongue.
He slaps it once against your cheek.
“Don’t flinch. You want to be used? Then be used.”
Then he shoves in again. This time rougher. His hips snap forward, and the sound it makes is obscene wet and fast and filthy.
You choke. Gag. Your body jerks.
“Take it,” he growls. “Fucking take it.”
His thighs press into your shoulders, his breath ragged, eyes half-lidded as he fucks into your mouth like he owns it. Your throat tightens around him, and that only makes him moan louder.
“Shit—fuck, you feel that? Like a goddamn vice.”
Tears spill down your cheeks, mouth stretched too wide, your body rocking as he ruts forward with no mercy. You brace one hand on the carpet, the other digging into his thigh, not to push him away. Just to hold on.
Then suddenly, he pulls out again, panting.
You collapse forward, coughing hard, drool hanging from your lips.
He grabs your chin and forces your face up.
“Where’s all that mouth now, huh?” he taunts. “What happened to I’m not just here to suck your dick?”
You blink up at him through watery lashes, throat wrecked, lip trembling.
Still, you whisper: “I hate you.”
Lando grins. Wide. Fucking feral.
“No, baby. You hate how much you want this.”
He lets go of your chin and walks back a step. His cock stands hard, twitching, glistening with spit. He strokes it once, twice, gaze fixed on you.
"Say it," he demands. "Say what you are."
Your eyes burn. Your mouth opens before you can stop it.
“…a throat for your cock.”
“I’m just a throat for your cock.”
“That’s right,” he snarls. “That’s what you are. You get on your knees and open that pretty little mouth because you know I won’t give you anything else.”
You flinch not from fear, but from how much it hurts. How real it is.
“You want more?” he asks. “You want me to treat you like more than a hole?”
Lando leans in, fists your hair, and spits on your tongue again.
“Too bad,” he whispers. “You’re better like this.”
He shoves back into your mouth before you can protest, and this time it’s even rougher.
His rhythm is brutal hips slamming forward, cock filling your throat to the base. Your nose presses against the coarse trail of hair below his abs, tears rolling freely now.
Because even if he reduces you to this, even if he treats you like a toy, you’d rather be used by him than untouched by anyone else.
You moan around him, gagging again and it sends him over the edge.
He pulls out last-second and jerks himself twice before spilling all over your face thick ropes hitting your lips, your cheek, your chest. His groan is low and mean and satisfied.
He watches you wipe the cum from your cheek with trembling fingers. Watches you sit back, ruined and wrecked and completely hollowed out.
And then he says, like it’s the funniest thing in the world:
“See? Told you. That’s the only time you got depth.”
You cry. Mouth sore. Chest rising in sharp, shallow breaths.
He’s standing over you like he didn’t just tear you apart and call it affection.
He tilts his head, eyes dragging down your ruined body. Sweat. Spit. His cum drying on your cheek.
Then he points to the bed behind him.
“On it. Face down. Legs spread.”
You don’t ask for a kiss. Not anymore.
He doesn’t give those. Not to you.
You do what he says, limbs trembling as you crawl up on the mattress, bury your face in the pillow, and arch your hips back like it’s second nature. Like you’ve done this before.
Every time, it’s like this.
You hear his steps behind you, slow and purposeful. Then his hands rough, possessive grip your thighs and pull them apart wider.
“Fuck,” he mutters, “look at this pussy. Still dripping.”
He kneels behind you, spreads your folds open with two fingers, and groans low.
“I didn’t even fuck you yet and you’re this messy. That’s pathetic, baby.”
You moan at the words. You hate how much they light you up.
Then you feel his fingers slide inside two at once, fast and deep, curling just right as he thrusts them mercilessly.
Your body jerks forward, mouth opening in a ragged cry.
“You like that?” he growls. “Like when I treat you like a cum dumpster?”
You nod into the pillow. Whimpering. Eyes squeezed shut.
“I want to come,” you gasp.
“You’ll come when I say.”
His pace quickens. The wet sound of his fingers fucking you is obscene loud and slick and filthy.
“Say it,” he hisses. “Say what you are.”
He slaps your ass hard, making you yelp.
“I’m just a hole for you,” you whisper.
“I’m just a fucking hole for you,” you cry.
He pulls his fingers out suddenly and slaps your pussy once, sharp and wet, making you jerk again.
You barely have time to catch your breath before you feel the head of his cock line up behind you. He pushes in in one brutal stroke.
You scream into the pillow.
He pounds into you, fast and mean, hips slamming against your ass over and over as the bed creaks beneath you.
“You feel that?” he grits out. “That’s all you’re good for.”
You sob not from pain. From everything.
“You’ll never be more than this,” he spits, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. “Never be more than a wet little fucktoy for me to use when I’m bored.”
Your voice cracks when you whisper: “I know.”
That’s what makes him lose it.
His rhythm breaks, hips stuttering, cock pulsing deep as he comes inside you with a loud, broken moan.
He stays there, buried deep, breathing hard against your back.
You just lie there, his cum dripping out of you, face down, heart shattered.
When he finally pulls out, he doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t hold you. Doesn’t kiss your temple or whisper sweet things.
He just puts his pants up and says. “Shower is over there if you want it.”
The door clicks behind him.
And you stay face-down on the bed, body wrecked, throat sore, tears soaking the pillow.
Because you know the truth.
Because giving him your body is the only way he ever sees your worth.
And that’s the only kind of depth he’ll ever believe you have.
•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•
Part two ft Oscar is coming soon...
English is not my first language and I don't want it to be. Any mistakes are made out of pure hatred and disrespect for this language. The English have taken enough from this world, I will not let them have my tongue as well.
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