James x Reader — After months of trying to shut your friends down, you finally agreed to let them set you up on a blind date. Only, the guy never showed and you mistook the cute stranger in round glasses to be your date.
Sirius x Reader — Sirius is the best mate ever, he’s decided. So when the rule was set that Lily cannot date James unless you, the older sister, dates first… he makes it his mission to date you for James.
Remus x Reader — You’ve always known what you and Remus meant to each other but never crossed that line. The five times Remus almost ruined your friendship and the one time you finally did.
So, will Danny be appearing in ootb? I hope he fucks Max while reader fucks George as George or Max fucks Kimi
Okay so... danny will be making avery brief appearance, however none of that will be happening 👉👈 his role will be more about plot than just to fuck, but he will fuck ;)
Warnings: smut, overstimulation, oral, dom/sub dynamics all over the place, in this one we get some more interesting Max lore, don't ask about the title, it took me two days to come up with it and I still hate it
One of the Boys Masterlist
"I am not getting fucked by Lando"
You burst out laughing at the look on Max's face.
"I wasn't going to ask you to" you sat down on the couch of his driver's room, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. "I was just going to ask you to join us tonight."
Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you planning, then?"
Your evil smile never failed to make him nervous.
"That's a surprise, but I promise you won't even have to touch Lando if you don't want to"
He reluctantly agreed.
Lando on the other hand, was so eager to celebrate that he agreed without you having to even ask him anything at all.
Charles was surprised to be invited, but pleased none the less, and promised he'd be there on time.
Kimi, sweet baby boy Kimi, was grinning before you even walked through his door.
"Whatever it is, I want to"
You laughed. "You don't know what I was going to say. For all you know I'm going to tie you up and torture you..."
He blinked. "Are you?"
You shook your head with a chuckle.
"Then it's a yes!"
You smirked at the insatiable teenager in front of you. He was definitely in for a treat, even if he didn't know it yet.
Max was late.
Very late.
But you were having too much fun to care that he was missing out.
You and Kimi were facing each other, trying to make out but failing somewhat, as you got fucked by your respective partners.
Lando was behind you, driving into you in a trance with one arm wrapped around your middle and the other around your neck.
Kimi was getting his insides rearranged by Charles, who was being particularly mean tonight.
You got brief flashbacks from zandvoort, when they'd been in a similar position after Charles' DNF.
Charles was apparently thinking along the same lines, because he chuckled and leaned in close to the rookie's ear.
"Do you crash into me on purpose? So that I'll fuck you?"
Kimi gasped at a particularly hard thrust.
"No! It was Osca-"
"I don't want excuses" the older man growled. "I want apologies"
Kimi's canines peeked out in a brief smirk. "Yes, I'm sorry. I won't do it again!"
Charles rolled his eyes, entirely unconvinced by the tone of the younger man.
You were being held in place by Lando, and when his hand slipped down over your cunt you started moaning louder, attracting the attention of the other two.
As if Lando couldn't bear not being the center of attention for more than thirty seconds.
Your face was inches away from Kimi, and you begged him with your eyes to kiss you.
Once again, your lips tangled messily, gasped curses flying as you approached the precipice with Lando's talented fingers driving you almost insane with how good he was.
You came with a loud cry, legs shaking as your eyes closed in bliss. But they didn't give you much time to come down before your head was being shoved down, and Kimi's cock was bouncing obscenely in front of your face.
"Why don't you help him along?" Lando said, hips stilled but still very much inside.
"And don't stop until I say" came Charles' gruff voice, and you obeyed quickly, swallowing down Kimi's girth eagerly as the other two watched you.
Kimi came within minutes, but you listened to Charles' order, not stopping your assault on his cock despite it softening a bit, before going hard again.
Kimi's was writhing and shaking, and sniffling wetly as Charles held him there, arms behind his back and unable to stop the deep grind of the Ferrari driver's cock inside him, and your talented tongue and mouth on him.
You could still feel the stretch of Lando inside you, barely moving, but for the unconscious soft bucking of his hips every time you took Kimi down to the base.
You were full, from both ends. And you were taking great pleasure in teasing Kimi, making him squirm and cry with pleasure as you continued your assault on his sanity. Charles was feeling sadistic after his unfair DNF, so he was very much enjoying this too.
"You gonna come again, Kimi?" He mocked as the younger man cried silently.
Fingers digging into Kimi's hips, he angled his thrusts perfectly to stimulate his prostate, and Kimi just cried harder.
"Please!" He hiccuped, "I'm gonna come- please let me come!"
Charles wrapped a hand around his throat.
"Are you sure you deserve it?" He growled.
Kimi was nodding quickly, desperate for release, so you sucked harder and Charles fucked him with gusto, and it didn't take long for Kimi to all but scream as his orgasm ripped through him.
You barely had time to swallow what he gave you before Lando was picking up the pace himself, stuffing you full of him as he chased his own pleasure.
Then Max just barged in.
His eyes widened when he saw the positions you were all in, Kimi slumped against Charles, both of them sweaty and exhausted while Lando drilled into you like he was on a mission.
Now that your head was unoccupied, he was free to shove your face in the covers to arch your back further.
"Take it" he grunted under his breath.
The slap of his hips against you was obscene, but almost hypnotising to the others who watched you fail to hold in your little whines.
Lando seemed more aggressive than usual, maybe the pressure of the closing stages of the championship was getting to him, and he needed to fuck the relief out.
Your fists clutched the sheets as you finally came, and Lando followed shortly after with a garbled curse and a loud groan.
And then... he left.
He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, muttered something about "places to be" and left...
It was very unlike him to not want to be the last one there. You decided to ask him about it next time you saw him, maybe it was time for another chat about his headspace.
In the meantime, you had an eager Max waiting for you to invite him onto the bed, and two other sex pests waiting for instruction.
"Max, why don't you show Kimi how grateful you are? You probably wouldn't be here without his interference..."
It was immediately obvious that Max misunderstood you.
He reached for the lube, ready to slick himself up, eyeing the way Kimi was already hard again as he lay back, propped up on his elbows.
"Ah ah" you snapped. "That's not how you show gratitude, Max."
His face slowly turned towards you, bewilderment obvious.
Kimi glanced back and forth, not understanding the tension, and Charles' eyes were wide.
Max did not suck dick.
Ever.
Well, rarely, and not for a long time.
His eyes were glued to yours, unmoving, and you tried to look serious. This was a battle of wills you refused to lose.
He swallowed thickly.
"Okay" his voice was quiet.
On the inside you were shouting for joy. If there was one thing you loved doing, it was getting your boys out of their comfort zone.
And Kimi definitely deserved to know what it felt like to get a blowjob from the Max Verstappen.
The young man watched in awe as Max lowered himself down over him, lips hovering above his cock.
Charles was shocked. He'd never seen Max suck anyone off before, this was almost inconcievable in his mind.
The only reason you knew about Max's prowess, was through Nico. After the celebrations on the jet after Silverstone he told you stories about was Max used to be like, and how much of a whore he was.
Now you were seeing him in action, and boy was it worth it.
Weirdly, all the tension seemed to drain out of him as soon as he took Kimi in his mouth, and if the way the Mercedes driver was struggling to keep his composure was any indication, he was also sucking the soul out of him.
Charles gaped at him, and couldn't help wrap a hand around himself reflexively. It was such a turn on seeing Max like this, and hopefully this was a start to getting him where you wanted him for the end of season... event.
Kimi didn't last long. He would've been embarrassed if it weren't for the way Max's tongue was rubbing the underside of his tip with every stroke, a true pro.
Unlike Kimi or Oscar, he did have a gag reflex, but he worked around that with gusto, and it was sloppy. He was moaning into it, almost whining as he gave his gridmate the best head of his life.
Kimi had his head tipped back as he moaned, and came into Max's hot mouth.
Max looked wrecked, lips red and puffy, watery eyes lidded and hair tousled from the younger man's eager hands.
"Now then, Max. You have a choice" you smiled evilly.
"Either you fuck Charlie over here..." you ran a hand through Charles' hair, which made him shiver. "Or he fucks you"
Max immediately sobered up, and glared at you.
"Charles, get on your hands and knees"
You laughed. Of course.
Charles sure wasn't complaing either way, and he complied eagerly, and you and Max swapped places.
Kimi gazed up at you from where he was slumped on the bed, boneless after that apparently otherworldly experience.
"As for you, you can choose where I sit"
Kimi blinked, taking a second to understand what the fuck that meant, and then he realised.
He didn't think he would ever get hard again after that, so he pointed at his face.
You grinned.
The second your thighs caged his head in, he pulled you down onto his eager mouth.
Your clit having been cruelly neglected so far, the wet slide of his tongue over it sent shockwaves through your body. You were extra sensitive and you clutched his curls to ground yourself as you rode his face.
Max was apparently already inside Charles, because as usual, the Monegasque's arms had stopped functioning and he'd slumped face first into the covers.
He was stretched out like a cat, trying to escape Max's powerful thrusts, but it was no use with the tight grip Max had on his slim waist.
Between the four of you there was no way anyone in the neighbouring rooms wouldn't be very much aware of what was happening in here, but it was to good, and too late, to care.
"Hope this makes up for your race..." Max growled in Charles' ear, before trailing kisses over the man's shoulders.
Charles' answer was garbled, and pretty much incompréhensible but it seemed to be positive so Max chuckled and carried on, holding himself up either side of the brunette's head to deepen the angles of his thrusts.
Kimi's face was soaked in your juices two or three times before you let up, and Charles was so riled up it didn't take him too long to cry out either. Muffled by the sheets he wailed, aftershocks rippling through him until Max finally took pity on him and pulled out, finishing over his deliciously plump ass.
Kimi was half hard, but he felt too sensitive to go again, so you sent him and Charles off to shower while you made Max change the sheets.
"So why don't you suck dick anymore? You certainly seemed to get off on it..."
Max sighed.
"I don't know. I think I used to do it when I was younger for... validation? Attention? So that the other drivers would like me?... Now that I am on the older side of the grid I don't like showing that kind of vulnerability I guess..."
He couldn't see the way you were biting your lip to stop from grinning to hard.
"So you become a whore when you've got old man dick in you is that what you're saying?"
He turned around to glare at you.
"That's why you were so subby when Nico fucked you on the jet... It all makes sense now"
He scoffed and threw the dirty bedsheet at you.
"And..." you continued. "You don't like getting fucked, it's because you don't want your rivals knowing you like it a bit too much"
"Oh fuck off!"
You laughed at him and helped him get the spare sheets on the bed.
"It's okay, Max. Your oral fixation is safe with me"
He rolled his eyes.
"If you tell anyone about this, I will tell everyone what happened at the after party in Abu Dhabi five years ago."
Your heart skipped a beat.
"You wouldn't"
He smirked, and the sound of the shower being turned off in the bathroom made the room eerily quiet.
Maybe you're crazy, or maybe Lando's crazy, but you're both pretty sure his teammate Oscar has a crush on both of you?
And fuck it, why not have a little bit of fun while you figure it out?
AKA - the fic in which you and Lando torture poor, sweet Oscar
Warnings: 18+ Content, PWP (some plot.... mostly porn...), dirty talk, praise, oral (m & f receiving), thigh riding, p in v, fairly light dom/sub themes, dom lando, sub oscar, switch reader, everybody's bisexual in this house, biting, unprotected sex (be safe pls guys lol), completely pathetic oscar piastri, not beta read..., katsreading classic shitty ending...
Word Count: 9k
Note: I'm sooooo sorry for teasing this fic for months. I have no explanation for why it took so long to write. It's a completely self-indulgent work of PORN. I hope u guys love it bc it's actually kinda my baby at this point. Seriously, this thing is 20 pages in a word doc. (15 of those pages are just straight up porn!!!!!!!!)
The first time Lando brings it up, you’re pretty sure he’s gone insane.
“You’re letting the rivalry stuff get to you head, Lan,” you say softly, stroking a stray curl out of his face.
You’re sat back on your living room sofa, watching-but-not-really-watching something on the TV, and Lando’s sprawled across you, legs tangled through yours as his head rests against your chest.
“I’m telling you, I’m right,” he insists, not bothering to look up. “Oscar has a crush on you.”
You laugh, completely unconvinced, but he continues. “I’ve caught him staring at you more than once, and not just in a normal way. Do you remember in the drivers’ room in Bahrain, when you bent down to tie your laces? I’m pretty sure he stopped breathing for a second. And in Austria, when you hugged me after quali he went bright red.”
He says it all in one long rush of words. When he’s done, you shake your head, fighting not to laugh again. “Babe, he was probably just zoned out. You know how boring work stuff can get! I feel like you’re thinking too far into this.”
He tilts his chin up, stubborn as always. “I know what I saw.”
The two of you laugh it off, though, because the thought of Oscar Piastri harbouring a quiet little crush on his teammate’s girlfriend is quite silly.
It’s so silly, that the thought doesn’t cross your mind again for weeks.
Until Silverstone, when Lando wins, and you find yourself screaming at the top of your lungs as he gets up onto the podium.
You’ve giggled at pictures of yourself like this before, looking up at the podium as Lando receives his trophy. You can never manage to hide that adoring look in your eyes, like nothing matters but him, and you can feel it shining through now while you clap and cheer until your voice is hoarse.
There’s something so special about seeing your boy standing where he belongs.
The British national anthem begins, and for just a second your attention flicks to the left, where Oscar stands in his own spot on the podium.
You expect him to be staring straight off into the crowd, or perhaps tilting his head back, shutting his eyes as the anthem plays. What you don’t expect is to find him staring straight at Lando, with a far too familiar look in his eyes. The same look you were giving Lando ten seconds ago.
You blink up at him, like maybe your eyes will focus, and see that Oscar’s not even on the podium and you were just making things up. This does not happen. Oscar remains on the podium, and his eyes remain fixed on your boyfriend.
The national anthem comes to an end, and Oscar finally manages to drag his eyes away from Lando.
When he looks down into the crowd, his gaze collides with yours, and there’s a flicker of awareness in his expression, as his cheeks pink ever so slightly. It’s over in a second, though, because then the champagne is out, and there’s no time to think about anything other than celebrations.
In the garage, Lando finally seeks you out, planting a firm kiss on your lips the second he can reach you.
He pulls away to speak to you, grin spreading across his cheeks, still completely high from his win. Usually, you’d let him yap at you for hours straight after a race, but right now? Something sparked in you, seeing the way Oscar stared up at your boyfriend. Something that certainly won’t be satiated by a peck on the lips.
You wrap a hand around Lando’s neck, pulling him back towards you.
You catch him a little bit off guard, but it doesn’t take him long to melt into you, his big hands firm at your waist, pressing you against him as he lets his tongue explore your mouth. He tastes like champagne and victory, and it’s taking every ounce of restraint in you not to tear all his clothes off and give him a real winner’s reward.
Especially when you can feel the solid outline of chest through his soaked shirt.
You’re actually pretty sure you could, without anyone noticing. It’s so chaotic in the paddock right now that nobody is paying the two of you a lick of attention.
(Plus, it’s not like it would be the first time you and Lando have had sex in public… though maybe his place of work still isn’t the best time to go for a round two..?)
Somehow, you manage to drag yourself away from the kiss moments before it becomes straight up pornographic.
Lando’s cheeks are flushed, and his lips are still parted. He tilts his head, a grin spreading across his cheeks.
“What was that for?” he asks, breath hot against your ear as he leans back in, in close enough for you to hear him.
You bite your lip, not fully sure if you should tell Lando the real answer. But you do.
“I think,” you reply, “Oscar might have a crush on you.”
“Yeah?” mutters Lando.
You nod.
“Because I think,” he replies, tilting his head to the left ever so slightly, “He might have a crush on both of us.”
You follow his eyeline to where Oscar stands across the room, looking away from the two of you. His ears flush pink as both of you stare.
*
It’s not an uncommon sight, to find you, Lando, and Oscar sat around in the McLaren motorhome after a race.
Most friends and family choose to return to their hotels at this point, to avoid hours of sitting around and waiting, but you like the quiet time with the boys, listening to them recapping the race in private before they’re dragged away to do media stuff.
Today is no different. Lando is sat back on the sofa, legs spread comfortably as he explains his mindset through turn one to Oscar. You’re slotted in beside him, one arm around his shoulders, stroking his neck lazily as he speaks.
Oscar listens carefully, clinging on to Lando’s every word—like he always does—but his voice wavers when he replies. Lando asks him a question about his tyres into turn one, and Oscar starts to answer, but you lean in just a little bit closer to Lando as he does, purely to see if he’ll react.
Your hand slips into Lando’s hair, brushing a stray curl from his forehead, and when he turns his head slightly you press a soft kiss right below his ear. It’s completely innocent, of course, but it certainly does something to Oscar, because he trips over his words right away.
You drag your eyes away from Lando, to watch as a flushed pink spreads from Oscar’s neck, kissing up his freckles until it settles at his cheeks.
Lando, cool as a cucumber, pretends not to notice that Oscar has essentially turned to a babbling pile of mush, and stretches his arm along the back of the sofa behind you, brushing his fingers over your shoulder before he responds.
“That’s interesting, mate. Think it’s one we could both work on, but I definitely think you managed it better there.” He says, though it appears to go in one ear and out the other.
The best reply Oscar can conjure up is a small nod paired with a large gulp. He attempts to continue, talking about his best lap time of the race, and the incident with the cars at the back towards the start of the race, but his voice shakes each time one of you shifts in your seat.
You try very hard not to laugh, because it is a little bit cruel, but you can’t help that you’re a bit like cats sometimes, playing with your prey before you pounce.
When a member of the media team appears at the door, clipboard in hand, and announces that it’s ‘Interview O’Clock,’ Lando sighs dramatically, and attempts to cling onto you a little bit longer.
You manage to stand from the sofa despite his attempts, leaning down to kiss him quickly before you go. Then, you turn to Oscar, bending down across the sofa, and press a light kiss to his cheek. It’s a perfectly friendly goodbye.
A perfectly friendly goodbye that manages to turn Oscar an even more neon shade of pink. He freezes for half a second as the blush spreads, before managing to mumble a soft “bye,” under his breath. Lando watches this with a smug grin, and his eyes briefly flick to yours as you walk out the door.
You smile back, pretending not to notice that Oscar still hasn’t managed to recover.
*
There’s two weeks until the next race, and somebody at McLaren decides that this means Monday night is a perfectly acceptable day of the week to go out drinking.
You’d love to be able to say that you weren’t expecting to end up six cocktails deep clinging to Lando’s bicep at the VIP table of a ridiculously exclusive club, but unfortunately you know yourself far too well for that, and you’re not sure you and Lando have ever managed to go for ‘just one casual drink’. What you might not have been able to predict, however, is that Oscar Piastri would decide to join you for the night.
Oscar Piastri, who gags at the smell of vodka and takes an hour to finish half a pint.
It’s that part of the night, where everyone is either drunk or politely excused themself an hour ago, where your skin is warm and sticky and your options are to dance or take a nap.
Most of the remaining team have chosen to take themselves to the dancefloor, but you, Lando, and Oscar remain sprawled out across the plush purple booth.
Lando’s arm is around your shoulders, fingers softly tracing lines up and down your bare skin. You’re a touchy couple on an average day, but a few drinks in? you couldn’t pay Lando to take his hands off you.
Oscar sits opposite you, stirring a deep golden drink as he avoids your gaze. His cheeks are once again flushed, partially from the alcohol, partially from the warmth of the room, and maybe a little bit from simply being around you and Lando. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to expose the sharp rise and fall of his collarbones as he breathes, and you don’t try to hide the way your eyes trace his freckles.
Lando leans in closer to you, his lips brushing against the edge of your jaw. You keep your eyes on Oscar but lean into his touch. The smell of Lando’s cologne always does something to you, and this many drinks in you’re melting like butter for him. When his hand runs up your thigh to rest at your hip, you don’t hesitate to turn to him.
The kiss starts out warm and familiar, almost like you’re whispering that you love each other over the music. It doesn’t stay like that though. Maybe it’s the music, or the drinks, or Oscar’s eyes on you, but something heats up the kiss.
Your hands wander up and down Lando’s arms, his back, his thighs as you kiss, desperate for more contact. You actually moan into his mouth when he grabs a handful of ass, like you’re starved of his touch or something, and didn’t literally fuck him six hours ago.
When you break for air, Lando’s grin is lazy as he looks at you in that way that tells you he’s got about thirty minutes of this left in him before he bends you over the nearest flat surface and makes you cum until you cry.
Part of you considers that this club could use a bit of entertainment, and maybe you should test it out? The rational part of you agrees that you’ll keep it to the bedroom tonight.
But not quite yet.
You glance across the table and catch Oscar’s expression. He’s caught somewhere between fascination and guilt, lips parted in a half gasp as he glances away, eyes never meeting yours.
He tries to act casual, fingers tapping the side of his glass as his eyes dart over to the bar then back to you and Lando. It’s almost endearing.
You tilt your head slightly, and Lando takes it as an invite to trace your jaw with his teeth, drawing a soft whimper—silent against the pounding club music—from your lips.
When his lips meet yours once more, his tongue is greedier as he nips at your bottom lip, hands tangling through your hair as he pulls your head back, granting him further access to your mouth. The burning heat of Oscar’s gaze only spurs you on, rocking your body against Lando’s as you continue to kiss.
It’s Lando who pulls away this time, with a low murmur of, “It’s time to go.”
As much as you love being a little bit of a brat sometimes, when Lando’s voice sounds like that, and you know exactly what’s waiting for you back at the hotel,you’re certainly not putting up a fight.
You follow Lando out of the booth, pausing to say goodbye before you go.
“Don’t stay out too late, Osc,” he shouts over the pounding music, slapping a hand against Oscar’s shoulder before finding your hand once again.
You run a hand up Oscar’s arm, giving the solid muscle a quick squeeze. “Goodnight, Oscar,” you say, in the sweetest voice you can produce, like you haven’t just sat and tortured the poor guy for an hour.
And then you leave him, flushed and tipsy, to his own thoughts.
*
When you get back to your hotel room, there’s not much talking.
Not until you’re naked, adjusting yourself above Lando’s dick.
“Fuck,” he whispers, as you grind down onto him him. “So pretty like this, baby.”
You steady your hands against his chest, tracing lines up his tanned skin. He’s still wearing his white shirt, but he’s unbuttoned it completely.
He sits up, trying to shrug off the shirt, but you catch his wrist before he can get it off.
“Leave it on, please?” You ask, words broken into a half-moan as you feel him shift in his seat again, pressing himself deep inside of you.
He raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up into a smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you reply, breathy, rocking your hips against him, chasing any friction you can find. “Looked so fucking good today, Lan. Couldn’t stop thinking about this all night.”
“Mm,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “Did you see the way Oscar was staring at us?”
You nod. “Couldn’t take his eyes off us.”
Lando thinks before he speaks again, rocking his hips up, forcing another moan out of you. “Do you think he’s picturing us now?”
And suddenly there’s an image in your head, of Oscar, all alone in his hotel room, whimpering as he finds his climax but it’s still not enough to satisfy him, not now that he’s had the thought of the two of you using him like a toy.
“I think he’s fucking his hand,” you reply, voice a soft whisper, “wishing he was here with us.”
And you feel the way Lando’s body responds to that—jaw clenching, hips snapping up into you, as he pictures the two of you having your way with his sweet teammate.
“I bet he’s never had a threesome,” he says once he’s able to form a sentence.
“We’d treat him so well,” you gasp, fully riding him now.
Lando pulls you down against him, his movements becoming far less patient and controlled. “We’d ruin him.”
You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, when you reply, “Maybe we should.”
His response is a soft hum, which he lets out right before lifting you off him like you weigh absolutely nothing. You gasp at the sudden feeling of emptiness, but it doesn’t last long, because then he’s flipping you onto your stomach and lining himself up with your entrance from behind.
“You’d love it, wouldn’t you baby?” He groans, as he pushes himself into you, not giving you that achingly slow moment to adjust this time, fucking in and out, hard.
He grabs a handful of your hair, yanking your head back as he pounds into you, the new angle allowing him to hit an even deeper spot than before.
You can barely find it in you to form the word, “Yes,” but you manage it, and it comes out a desperate, pleading sob. “I’d love it.”
“I know, my love.” He replies, planting a kiss at the base of your neck before dropping a hand to rub slow circles against your now-throbbing clit.
It’s devastating—the combination of Lando thrusting into you, so hard and so unrelenting, paired with his hand, so gentle as it guides you towards your orgasm. You don’t have to tell him when you’re close, because he already knows it, and he is too.
His hand speeds up, pace not faltering until jolts of pleasure are coursing through your veins and you’re seeing stars.
The feeling of you clenching around him as you moan out his name is just enough to push Lando over the edge too.
His thrusts slow to a deep, final stop, and he presses his fingers into your thighs hard as he reaches his climax.
He’s still for a moment, before he pulls out, just taking in the sight of you underneath him. When he does, you roll over, panting heavily, trying to catch your breath. When you lock eyes with Lando, he leans over to kiss you once again, softly this time.
Before his lips meet yours, you whisper, “You’d love it too.”
“Of course I would,” he replies. And that’s that decided.
*
Date night, a week and a half into summer break, you’re just on the verge of being tipsy as you and Lando make your way home—both of you agreeing to walk through the warm streets of Monaco rather than bothering to wait for a driver to pick you up.
Lando’s hand rests on your waist, always a steadying presence by your side. He leads you round a familiar corner, just a few streets away from your apartment.
And that’s when you see him.
Oscar, looking so perfectly sweet, lovely Oscar, in shorts and a dark hoodie, hair flopping down into his eyes as he walks right into you.
He notices you just a second after you notice him, but that second is enough for Lando to give your waist one tight, firm squeeze, a silent agreement between the two of you.
“Oscar!” You call out, arms extended wide for a hug. You relish in the pink tinge that stains his cheeks when you release him.
“Hello, mate,” adds Lando, slapping him on the back. “How’ve you been?”
“Yeah, alright,” he says, “Just resting up, you know how it is.”
“Course, I do, Osc,” Lando replies, and you’re sure Oscar’s blush deepens at the use of that nickname. “So you’re not busy, then?”
“Nah, not particularly.”
“Great!” smiles Lando “So you’ll come back to ours for a drink?”
Oscar blinks. “What, like, now?”
Lando grins. “Like, now.”
“Ah, you know, I should probably be getting home—”
You cut him off, running a hand up his bicep, doe-eyes blinking hard. “Come on, Oscar, it’s just one drink and we’ve missed you so much this week.”
He swallows, hard, then says, “alright. Just one.”
“Just one,” echoes Lando.
*
When you’ve returned your wine glasses to the kitchen, after the one drink Oscar agreed to, you settle back down on the sofa next to Oscar, who’s wedged between you and Lando.
Your short skirt shows off most of your bare legs when you’re sat like this, and Oscar stares straight ahead, blinking at your wall as he avoids looking at all the skin you’ve got on display.
Lando catches your eye, and you nod, one final yes.
“Babe,” he says, faux concern laced through his voice. “You have something on your lip. Come here.”
You lean forward across Oscar, enough so that the neckline of your shirt drops, exposing far more cleavage than before.
Lando leans forward too, and before you can register what he’s doing, he licks the corner of your mouth.
You laugh, head tilting towards Oscar, which leaves your neck exposed. Lando takes that chance to scatter open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to scrape his teeth along your pulse point.
You lock eyes with Oscar, a gasp of pleasure slipping from you, and he holds your gaze for a second, pupils blown wide. When he looks away, he’s blushing, hard.
You let the hand closest to him snake along his back, and he’s burning hot against your touch.
Oscar parts his lips, like he’s right on the cusp of saying something that’s on his mind. But he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts in his seat silently.
Lando stills against you, breath still warm against your neck as his lips curve up into a smile before he pulls away.
“Sorry, Oscar,” he says, sly grin only growing wider, “Are we bothering you?”
You can’t pull your eyes away from Oscar now, the way the flushed pink of his cheeks spreads right up to the tip of his ears, and right down below the collar of his shirt.
His eyes don’t meet yours or Lando’s when he replies, shakily, “No.”
You let your fingers trace down the curve of his spine, pausing as you find his shirt has ridden up ever so slightly, revealing a sliver of his back.
When your fingers, whisper soft, press against the warm skin, he inhales.
It’s tiny—so quiet—but it’s like music to your ears
“Lan?” You say, as casually as if you were about to ask him to add tomatoes to his shopping list.
“Hmm?” He replies, equally as casually.
“I think,” you continue, emphasising the I, “Oscar might like it,”
“Do you think so?” Lando asks, though the way he says it tells you it’s not really a question.
He turns his head, so he’s perfectly in line with Oscar’s throat.
“I think you’ve got a crush on my girlfriend, Osc.” He murmurs, breath soft against Oscar’s neck. You watch as his jaw clenches in response, eyes fixed ahead of him, desperately holding onto some shred of control.
Lando brings his hand up to Oscar’s face, cupping his cheek. He keeps his mouth so close to his neck that when he speaks again, voice sure and steady, his teeth graze the sensitive skin.
“Do you want to kiss my girlfriend?”
And that’s when you see Oscar lose the shred of control he’d been holding onto. His eyes snap down to meet Lando’s, and he nods silently, the movement so subtle you’re sure you would’ve missed it if you weren’t paying such close attention to him.
Lando doesn’t miss it though.
Using the hand cupping Oscar’s cheek, he tilts his head towards you, an invitation you’re more than willing to accept.
Your fingers ghost against his face, finding Lando’s hand and settling over it as your lips meet Oscar’s.
The first thing you notice is how soft Oscar’s lips are. His lips part in a whisper of a gasp as you take his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping just hard enough to sting.
Kissing Oscar feels just like kissing a girl usually does. He’s so pliant, so ready to let you take the lead, which you do, tongue pushing into his mouth, tasting the sweet wine from before.
You almost have to remind yourself not to reach for a handful of tit—though, judging by the way Oscar’s turning to mush at your touch, he’d probably quite like that.
You adjust your weight, knee brushing against Oscar’s leg, and he actually whimpers into your kiss, both of his hands now resting at your waist.
A smile curling at your lips, you pull away ever so slightly and take in the sight of him, cheeks already flushed pink, lips parted as he catches his breath. You lean in again, but don’t quite let him have another kiss yet.
“The thing is,” you whisper, lips brushing against his. “I think you might have a crush on my boyfriend, too.”
Oscar’s breath catches as you run your fingers through his hair, barely giving him a second to think before you’re gripping it, turning him to face Lando, who hasn’t stopped staring since you got your hands on his teammate.
“Do you want to kiss my boyfriend, Oscar?”
Lando doesn’t hesitate for even a second to take that invitation.
His mouth finds Oscar’s with a determination that flushes your cheeks pink, like he’s been picturing this moment just as much as you have. You bite your lip, not bothering to hide exactly how hot the image of the two of them kissing is to you.
Lando’s hand never leaves Oscar’s cheek, thumb pressing lightly into the hinge of his jaw as he deepens the kiss, and then, with a shift of his body and a firm tug, he’s pulling him closer, guiding him easily until he’s straddling his lap.
It’s so seamless, so natural, if you’d have blinked you might have missed the movement altogether.
You decide you love the way Oscar doesn’t resist at all. His body completely yields to Lando’s, knees resting against Lando’s thighs, hands still clumsily grasping your waist until one finally moves, uncertain, to Lando’s shoulder.
He lets Lando take complete control of the kiss, lets himself be tilted and pulled into exactly the position Lando wants him in; completely melts against him.
Then, a sound slips from Oscar’s throat. It’s small and broken, almost a whimper, and it makes Lando smile against his mouth, letting out a satisfied hum. You recognise that smile, because it’s one you’ve prompted on many occasions. It’s the smile that says, yeah, that’s right, I’m the one who makes you feel good.
And oh, how right he is.
Lando kisses Oscar like he owns him, like he’s known all along that this moment was waiting, and Oscar gives himself over to it so easily it almost makes you dizzy to watch, his body softening against Lando’s touch, knees tightening around his thighs as though he needs an anchor.
He’s probably never been kissed quite like this before. You certainly hadn’t, before Lando.
You’d once told him he ruined other men for you forever. Though you quickly took that back after your first threesome together, as it turned out he was quite capable of making other men very pleasant indeed.
Your gaze wanders down Oscar’s chest to his waist, where Lando’s hands hold him steady. The gasp that escapes you is completely involuntary, when you realise Lando can very nearly touch his fingers together around Oscar’s waist.
The size difference between the two boys is almost as erotic as the sight of them lapping up each other’s tongues. Oscar, so much bigger than Lando, yet looking so unreasonably tiny as he completely hands over control.
You decide you could stay and watch this forever, the two of them locked together, but then Lando finally breaks the kiss, dragging his mouth away just far enough to look at you over Oscar’s shoulder, eyes dark and shining with triumph. His lips curve, breathless but steady, and his voice is low when he says, “Look at us, having all the fun without my beautiful girl… Come here, Baby.”
Lando’s words are a command, not really a question, you know that, so you find yourself moving before your brain has fully processed his words, leaning into their burning space.
Lando’s hand is still firm against Oscar’s jaw, so it’s easy for him to guide the angle when you press closer, tilting Oscar’s face just enough to allow you access to him. The brush of your lips against his is different this time, wetter now from Lando’s kiss, his breath stuttering hot against your mouth as he struggles to process this fantasy of his coming to life.
This time, Lando doesn’t just watch as you kiss Oscar.
No, he drops his hand to your panties, completely exposed under your short skirt and presses hard against you, until the tiniest bit of friction sends a jolt of pleasure through you. At the same time, he grinds his hips up against Oscar, forcing soft whines out of both of you at once.
Lando continues his movements, revelling in the sight of you and Oscar moaning into each other’s mouths.
You’re just about to lose your patience with his barely-there touch, when Lando abruptly pulls Oscar off his lap, separating the two of you completely.
Oscar blinks at Lando dumbly, eyes glassy and hair a mess.
“On your knees,” says Lando.
Oscar follows his instruction obediently, dropping to his knees.
You’re not expecting Lando to drop down with him, so they both kneel at your feet, but you’re certainly not complaining when it happens.
You let Lando be in control here, like he always is, and so does Oscar.
Lando continues, “pull down her skirt.”
Oscar brings his hands up to the tiny thing, and does as he’s told, delicate hands working quickly to pull the tight fabric down your legs.
You lift your hips up to help him, and when they’re off his hands shoot right back up to pull down your little red thong—already soaked through from just kissing the two boys.
You can’t help but laugh at his eagerness, and your eyes lock with Lando’s as his lips quirk upwards.
“Look at you,” He purrs against Oscar’s ear. “So eager. Do you want to make her feel good?”
He nods, and you spread your legs for the two of them, revealing your soaked core.
Lando touches you first, fingers swiping achingly slowly from your entrance up to your clit. He brings the fingers to Oscar’s mouth, where he parts his lips obediently and sucks your wetness off Lando’s fingers.
“Doesn’t she taste perfect?” Lando asks.
Oscar just nods again.
“Go on,” he continues, “You can taste.”
It’s like Oscar is made to serve, like making you feel good is the only thing keeping him ticking, like he needs it more than oxygen.
The way he laps you up, two fingers fucking into you hard and perfectly deep.
You let your head drop back, eyes fluttering shut as he finds a steady pace, fingers curling up into you until he finds that spot that has your hips twitching up into him. He smiles against you at that, but doesn’t slow down, so eager to please.
Lando notices it too, the way he reacts to your pleasure, because a second later you hear his voice, low and calculated, murmuring words of encouragement for him.
“That’s it, Oscar. Good boy,” he says, and Oscar whines against you, the feeling of his stuttering breath almost enough to send you over the edge.
He pumps his fingers in and out again, but when his pace stutters for a moment, another whimper slipping from him, you notice it, and your eyes dart down to where he kneels.
There, you find Lando, palm pressed flat against Oscar’s cock as he continues to mutter words of encouragement for Oscar.
And that, the sight, the feeling of Oscar desperately moaning into you while he squirms under Lando’s touch is far too much for you to handle.
Your head drops back against the sofa once again, and you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the way Oscar’s tongue flicks against your clit, and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
And then you’re right there, waves of pleasure crashing over you, your hips pushing up against Oscar’s mouth, as his little noises of pleasure blend together with yours.
You fall back, catching your breath. You don’t open your eyes right away—instead, you give all your energy to your other senses. To the feeling of the two men kneeling at your feet, their shoulders brushing your knees as they move against one another. To the sounds Oscar is making, so perfectly desperate, as Lando strokes his cock.
Dragging an eye open, your gaze finds Lando, peppering open-mouthed kisses along Oscar’s jaw, left hand gripping the back of his neck just hard enough to make him gasp, while his right hand continues to work up and down his length, which is no longer concealed by layers of soft fabric.
You keep your eyes glued to them as Lando’s mouth finds Oscar’s again, licking into his mouth, teeth catching against his flushed lower lip as they kiss hungrily, and messily.
Just as Oscar begins to rock his hips up against Lando’s firm hand, he pulls away—from both the kiss and Oscar’s cock, a grin spreading across his cheeks.
“Desperate for it, aren’t you, Osc?”
If this embarrasses Oscar, he certainly doesn’t show it, simply nodding, wide-eyed, at Lando.
“Been picturing it for a long time?” Lando continues, tracing a finger down Oscar’s pale, exposed neck.
Again, Oscar nods. But this time, he allows a soft shade of pink to tint his cheeks.
“Did you touch yourself, thinking about us?”
Oscar hesitates, then chokes out, “Yes—Fuck. After that night at the club.”
Lando’s eye’s snap up to meet yours, and he drops his hand back down to Oscar’s cock.
“We pictured you, too, Osc. Talked about you while we fucked that night.”
Oscar doesn’t reply, simply drops his head to Lando’s shoulder and whines, melted to a puddle under Lando’s touch.
He pulls away again, to Oscar’s visible disappointment, though this time he guides the Australian to his feet, positioning him next to you on the sofa.
“Come here, baby.” He says, attention back on you now. He gestures for you to join him, kneeling on the floor in front of Oscar.
“How about you show Oscar just how badly you wanted him?” He says once you’re on the floor next to him, gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear.
You nod, taking Oscar’s length in one hand. It rests for a moment at the base of his cock, barely moving. He takes a deep breath, and it’s perfectly shaky.
Lando’s hand snakes across yours, interlocking your fingers, before he drags both of you up and down Oscar’s length.
Oscar’s head drops backwards immediately, a groan spilling from his lips as his hands cling to the edge of the sofa.
“That’s it, beautiful,” says Lando, and you’re not completely sure if he’s talking to you or Oscar, until he pulls his hand away from yours, and whispers, “You want to make Oscar feel good, don’t you?”
You nod, continuing to work Oscar’s cock while Lando stands up, unbuttoning his trousers.
Oscar makes the most perfect sounds when you’re stroking his dick, and you focus in on that while Lando rises to his feet and undresses himself, testing what makes him squirm.
You trace a gentle finger along his tip, gathering the drop of precum that has pooled there. Oscar manages to breathe out a soft, “Please,” at that, which only makes you grin harder.
You still your hand, and look up at him through your lashes. “Is that what you want, Oscar?”
He nods, jaw tense.
“You’re going to have to use your words, baby.”
Oscar squeezes his eyes shut, fists clenched, and shakily manages, “right there, please.”
“Good boy,” you reply, letting your fingers caress the soft skin again. His hips buck up as you move, and you settle into a rhythm again.
Lando is fully naked now, and you realise this as he lines his length up with your face.
You look up at him, still grinning.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,”
“Want something to do with that pretty little mouth of yours?”
You nod, because for some reason, despite being able to produce a whole string of commands for Oscar, when it comes to Lando your brain melts back down into putty.
He hums as you stick your tongue out, swirling it against his tip before taking in his whole length.
You know the size of him so well, know exactly what you can handle, so you don’t have to think as you bob your head up and down. You find a steady beat, hand moving up and down Oscar’s length as you take Lando’s.
You continue for a little while, until the three of you are a mess of spit and groans, and you’re pretty sure you could cum at least once from the pure eroticism of making the two drivers feel this good.
Your brain is short-circuiting in that way it often does when Lando’s dick is in your mouth, and you desperately want to just shut your eyes and let him use you.
He must notice the way your eyes flutter closed, hand still steadily working Oscar’s throbbing cock, because he threads his hand through your hair and seconds later is snapping his hips forward into you, finding a steady rhythm.
There’s something so perfect about the way the two men react to your movements—Lando, pushing your head down as far as he knows you can take it, muttering just how good you are for him, while Oscar fists his hand into the sofa, a whining, twitching mess. You feel completely in control of Oscar, yet you couldn’t feel less in charge with Lando.
But that’s what’s so perfect about your relationship with Lando, and why it works so well when you invite someone new to the bedroom. The two of you know each other’s bodies so perfectly, that it gets to be a game of discovering what the new person likes together.
When your jaw is beginning to ache, Lando slows his movements to a stop before he pulls away from you. A string of saliva connects you still, and you try to chase it, not quite ready to be done yet, but Lando stops you with a firm hand, turning you back to Oscar.
“Good girl,” he says, when you speed your hand up again, pumping up and down until Oscar is shaking, jolting with each movement, and you pull your hand away completely, leaving him twitching up against nothing.
Then Lando’s hands are on you, lifting you up onto the sofa, where Oscar sits trying to catch his breath.
“Think he’ll sit there like a good boy while I take care of you for a bit, baby?” Says Lando, voice low and hoarse.
You nod, immediately, and when you look up at Oscar, he’s nodding too.
“That’s right,” Lando continues. “Sit on your hands for me, Osc. No touching yourself for a bit, okay?”
He nods, cheeks flushed a brighter shade of red than you’ve ever seen them. Lando manhandles you into the position he wants you in—ass up, face down, resting on Oscar’s lap.
When you get your hands on Oscar’s thigh, he lets out the tiniest whimper, already tortured by not being able to touch himself. You begin to say something, to praise him, tell him what a good little toy he’s being for you two, but then Lando begins to tease at your entrance, and then you’re the one whimpering pathetically.
You’re not quite sure how you continue to be surprised by the sheer size of Lando, after so many years together, but when he bottoms out in one slow, delicious thrust, it has you crying out, weak at the knees, barely able to steady yourself over Oscar.
Lando gives you a second—just a second—to adjust, before rocking back into you.
“Fuck,” you whisper, “So perfect, Lando.”
Lando grunts, hips rolling hard against you, hitting your G-spot once more, forcing another choked half-moan from your lips.
And poor Oscar doesn’t know where to look, eyes darting between you—mouth dropped open into a silent ‘O’, eyes fluttering, barely open, rocking forwards into Oscar’s lap each time Lando’s hips snap against yours—and Lando, all toned, tanned skin, one hand digging bruises into your waist as the other tangles through your hair, fucking you hard and deep at this ridiculous angle that hits exactly the right spot.
Oscar shifts, hands still firmly tucked underneath him, his cock throbbing against his pale chest.
Lando yanks your hair back, ripping a moan out of you. The way Oscar’s dick twitches at the noise has you right there on the verge of another climax.
You clench around Lando, head falling forward to rest on Oscar’s thigh, and you’re not sure which of the two men groans louder.
“That’s it, Baby,” grunts Lando, “So fuckin’ close. You gonna come for me?”
You just about manage to hum in agreement, which is enough for him to drop the hand laced through your hair down to your clit, his skilled, practiced fingers rubbing quick, tiny circles that have you rocking back onto him.
Each brush of pressure sends a jolt of pleasure right up your spine until you’re dizzy and the only thoughts on your mind are Oscar’s strong thigh underneath you, and Lando’s warm, solid body behind you.
It feels like Lando is fucking into you even deeper than before, and it’s almost too much for you to handle, the feeling is too good. A moan threatens to rip from you, but you cut it off, teeth sinking, biting, into Oscar’s leg. And once again, he whimpers, hips bucking up into thin air, cock painfully strained.
Then you’re tumbling over the edge, vision blurring as tiny explosions go off in your stomach, Lando’s own thrusts becoming far more erratic as he brings himself to his climax.
“Gonna come, fuck—course I am, seeing you all over Oscar like this.”
You don’t have the words to tell Lando exactly how fucking hot this is for you, too, watching him play with his teammate like a toy, feeling him so deep inside you that you can barely breathe, but you do manage to turn your head to look at him. To catch a glimpse of him as he loses control, eyes squeezed tightly shut and jaw clenched, hard.
Warmth spreads through you, and that feeling, that fullness you can never get enough of is suddenly the only thing on in your brain, which is foggy and without thoughts once again.
You keep your face pressed into Oscar, as you whine out a pathetic, “Lando,”
“I know,” he says, soft and gentle as he pulls out of you.
You roll onto your back, searching for his face. He pulls you up against him, then slowly, as you catch your breath, tilts your head to look at Oscar.
Oscar, who is squirming, hands shoved underneath him, beautiful brown eyes watery as he tries to maintain control.
And holy fuck, the sight of Oscar like that, so pathetic, clears the fog in your brain. Enough that you think you might quite like to have a little bit more fun with him.
You stare at Oscar, who’s blinking at you dumbly, presumably waiting to be told exactly what he can and can’t do. Lando must interpret it this way too, because he lets out a light chuckle, and pats your shoulder.
“Got him all stupid,” he says.
“Exactly how I want him,” you reply, standing up so you’re towering over him despite your still shaking legs.
“Oscar,” you say sweetly, placing one hand on each of his shoulders, steadying yourself more than anything.
“You gonna sit nicely a little longer, while I get myself off on this big, strong thigh of yours?”
He swallows, hard. And you’re fairly sure you even hear Lando suck in a breath.
Oscar starts to nod, but, like he knows you’re going to tell him to use his words, manages to choke out a strangled, “Yes. Please.”
You let the grin spread across your face again and lower yourself onto his thigh.
And oh, you weren’t exaggerating when you called him big and strong. The muscles of his thigh tense as you settle on it, and it’s close enough to rock solid underneath you.
Oscar groans at the contact, at the feeling of you, so wet against him, still dripping with Lando’s cum.
Lando settles himself on the sofa next to you, and begins to stroke his cock lazily, like he’s got all the time in the world.
You rock your hips forward, the tiniest bit of friction enough to spark a moan from your lips.
Oscar’s hands fumble at the hem of your shirt, a silent request to get you just as naked as them, and you nod, letting him pull it up over your head. You have to pause your movements for a second, when your shirt covers your face, but once Oscar has managed to get it off you’re right back to it, hips rolling forward into him.
You use his shoulders to steady yourself, and find your fingers tracing the solid muscle at the base of his neck.
Formula one drivers and their necks.
You bring your lips down to his neck, and run your tongue along it. Oscar hisses in a breath, and you let your teeth nip at his sensitive skin just a little.
Somewhere next to you, Lando laughs.
“Knew you’d be all over his neck, baby.”
In silent agreement, you scatter a few more bruises along Oscar’s jaw.
His hands find your hips, and move you back and forth, speeding up until you’re moaning, loud, in his ear. You’re still so sensitive from your last orgasm, and Oscar is so desperate to make you feel good, you’re sure you’ll be close to another within seconds at this rate.
You toss your head back, unashamedly bucking your hips into him, squeezing your eyes tighter and tighter until the only thing in your brain is your next climax rapidly approaching.
The pads of your fingers press into his shoulders—hard, but you can barely spare a thought for any pain he might be in, and he certainly doesn’t complain as you fuck yourself against his thigh.
You’re sure you see stars, this time, as you come, panting hard, nails digging harsh marks into Oscar’s back.
You stay like that for a moment, heart racing, head tipped back.
As you let your head straighten, eyes still squeezed tightly shut, a pair of hands grips at your waist. They’re too big to be Oscar’s, you think, and far too familiar as they run up and down your bare skin.
“Hey,” comes Lando’s voice—soft, and gentle in that way it always is when you’re coming down from a climax. “Do you want to fuck Oscar like this?”
At that, you manage to pry your eyes open, breath still shallow and uneven.
You take in the way Lando still looks so relaxed, despite his arousal, and the casual sing-song to his voice when he asks you these questions designed to drive you mad.
Then, you shift your eyes across to where Oscar sits patiently underneath you. And the way he looks almost knocks the breath right back out of you.
His cheeks are flushed, the pale pink a stark contrast against the pale of his freckled cheeks, and his eyes are glassy, barely focused on you as you take him in. His lips part ever so slightly, and you think, for a moment, that he might speak.
But he doesn’t. He just continues to stare dumbly at you.
Then, finally, you let your eyes drop down.
Oscar’s cock is painfully hard against his chest, precum leaking from its tip. You trace a gentle line up its base, and he shudders, pleading doe-eyes snapping up to meet yours.
You feel yourself soften at the edges a little. Lando always loves to play with his food a little bit before he eats it, but you can’t help but take pity on Oscar.
“Is that what you need, baby?” you ask, fingers still feather-light against his tip. “Need me to take control? Ride you properly?”
He buries his face in your shoulder, voice barely a whimper, and nods.
You glance up at Lando, and his grip on your waist tightens, before lifting you. You adjust yourself above Oscar, then sink down onto him, a sharp gasp falling from you as you do.
Oscar bites his lip, humming out a half moan as he fumbles to keep you from moving for a second while he regulates his breathing.
“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, “we can go slow.”
Oscar nods, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your thigh when you grind against him. It’s a gentle, barely there movement, but it has him whining in your ear.
“Fuck,” he pants out, “feels good.”
Lando, sat so close next to him that their whole sides are pressed together, runs a hand down Oscar’s arm.
“Yeah?” he says, letting his thumb rub circles across Oscar’s bicep. “You love it?”
You roll your hips forward again, and Oscar whimpers. “Yes, Lando—” he inhales sharply. “Love it.”
Lando grins, settling himself back into the sofa and running a lazy hand over his cock, which is already getting hard again.
He’s far too comfortable like this – sprawled across his sofa, at his house, watching his girlfriend ride his teammate.
“Thought you would.” He replies, after a long pause. “Pictured how good you’d look under both of us. All needy and pathetic.”
This time it’s Oscar thrusting up into you, the soft moans from both of your mouths blending into one. He finds a steady rhythm—him, fucking up into you as you grind your hips against him, both drawing tiny little noises of pleasure from the other.
Oscar brings a hand up to your tits, eyes fixated on the way they bounce up and down as you ride him, the sight almost pornographic. He rolls a nipple between two fingers, harder than you’re expecting, and the moan it drags from you is a surprise to even you.
“Fuck,” says Lando—still thrusting up into his own hand—as Oscar brings his mouth to join his hand, tongue flat against your nipple, “We might have to keep him.”
“Fuck him in every position,” you reply immediately, voice breathy.
That has Oscar bringing his mouth back to yours, swallowing your moans as he presses his tongue into yours, hands completely unable to decide where to rest as they explore your naked body.
Lando chokes out another moan. When you look at him again, he says, “I want you to make him come.” It’s nearly enough to make you choke on thin air. “Wanna watch him fill you up, too,” he continues, voice hoarse, hand still pumping lazy strokes up and down his flushed cock.
Then he looks at Oscar. He doesn’t meet his eyes. Not until Lando’s hand grabs his jaw and tilts it towards himself.
“Does that turn you on, Osc?” He asks, and you clench around Oscar, forcing a deep groan out of him before he can reply.
“Yes, fuck, please. Gonna—” He interrupts himself with another sharp moan, hips snapping up into you harder, deeper, hitting that spot that makes you feel so good over and over.
Your nails dig into his shoulders again, and you bring your mouth right up to his ear, so your breath warms his cheek when you whisper, “Please, come for me baby.”
It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become uneven, his whimpers becoming louder and far more pathetic, and then he’s lacing his fingers through yours before his final, deep thrust.
There’s something so deeply intimate, about the spreading warmth of Oscar coming inside you, where Lando has already filled you up.
Oscar pants, as his cock throbs, and all you can do in response is press your mouth up against his cheek again and tell him how perfect he was for you.
“Made me feel so good, Oscar. Filled me up so nicely.”
He practically purrs in response, eyes half lidded, brain so clearly dazed and foggy, leaving him completely pliant. You wait a moment, before getting up, letting Oscar ride his high a little longer.
You wince at the emptiness when you do get up, but Oscar’s mouth simply drops open, face blank and seemingly completely devoid of thoughts.
You raise an eyebrow to Lando, who seems perfectly content to sit and fuck his own hand, as he watches you do whatever you want with Oscar.
You look back at his open mouth, and his soft pleading eyes.
Your thumb slips into his mouth far too easily, and when it does, it’s like it ignites something in Oscar’s brain. He sucks your finger, humming as he does.
And it’s a bit like looking in a mirror. You know exactly what he needs, because it’s exactly what you need when you get like this.
“Want something in your mouth?” you ask, voice oh so gentle now.
He nods, and you guide him to his knees in front of Lando, where you join him. Oscar drops his mouth open, blinking up at Lando, who doesn’t hesitate to fuck into it, earning a whine of thanks from Oscar.
Lando laces his fingers through Oscar’s hair and uses his mouth like a fuck toy, the only sounds filling the air the wet, hot grunts of pleasure from both men, and the soft sound of gagging as Oscar desperately tries to fit more of Lando’s impressive length down his throat.
You’re not sure how long you’ve been watching them like this, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, when Lando pulls away from Oscar,
But suddenly he’s fucking into your mouth, and Oscar can’t even bring himself to whine about his mouth being empty, because then Lando’s switching back and forth between the two of you, edging himself closer and closer to a second climax.
You can barely think, once again, so desperate to please Lando when he’s like this, so turned on by the feeling of choking on his cock, but both you and Oscar still far too sensitive to touch yourselves, reduced to existing just to make Lando feel good.
You’re sure Lando’s followed this train of thought too, because he’s not going to last long, muttering jumbled words of praise to both of you as his thrusts become more frantic.
“Gonna play nice?” he asks, breathily. “Gonna share?”
He doesn’t need to ask, not really, because he knows you’d both say yes to just about anything right now, but you’re both whimpering out pleas of yes, Lando, anything anyway as he strokes his cock above your faces.
When he finally fucks himself over the edge, warm come spills across your face, your eager tongue, your chest, and Oscar’s too.
And it’s sticky, and disgusting, and so erotic when Oscar starts to lap at your face like he’ll die if he doesn’t get to taste Lando again, waiting patiently for you to reciprocate. When you do, you let your tongue explore all the way back down his chest, not sparing a drop.
You share another kiss, as Lando watches, and it’s salty and hot. You run your hands along his thighs, and he gropes hungrily at your ass, neither of you quite ready to take your hands off the other yet, all three of you very aware that this won’t be the last time you fuck. Not even close.
*
You’re not quite sure how all three of you manage to fit in the shower, but you do, and whilst you’re in there Lando insists it’s entirely unfair that Oscar’s only had one orgasm, before sinking to his knees and sucking him off until he’s gripping onto you, and the bathroom wall, desperately willing his legs not to give in, even when faced with the totally, stupidly, ridiculously hot sight of Lando swallowing his come.
After that, the three of you, mostly clean and dry, return to the sofa.
“Reckon we’ll let you stay the night,” says Lando, swinging his feet over to rest on Oscar’s lap.
Oscar just laughs, a light, breathy noise, and replies, “Yeah, think you’d be pretty shit hosts if you didn’t.”
The way his pants hang off his slutty little hips?? I’m falling to my knees 🥵
I needed to share that with someone, and you were the first person I thought of T. I knew you would get it 😮💨
Yeah well. Lucky for him, he’s got a whole bakery in the back. Everybody say thanks to #that ass for keeping his jeans from sliding to his knees. Istg he’s one hip sway away from a lawsuit.
*cough* Calvin campaign when *cough* PHEWWW. I must have caught something, guys be careful :,)
➸ lorenzo berkshire was the perfect mix of pureblood arrogance and muggle-born rebellion in hogwarts. a sly grin, a wand-turned-drumstick, and a voice that echoed down the stone corridors; loud, reckless, unforgettable. he had that bad boy charm professors hated and students worshipped, the kind that made detentions feel like concerts and chaos look like art. his band, exploding cauldrons, was infamous for blowing up a practice room once, but he called it “creative expression.” beneath all that noise and swagger, though, was someone who never quite fit into the neat little box hogwarts wanted him in. half wizard, half dreamer, he carried the spark of something raw and real; something even magic couldn’t tame.
➸ she was the regina george of slytherin; sharp smile, sharper wand. she ruled the common room like a throne, her green and silver robes always threaded with pink silk and power. everyone adored her or feared her, and most did both. she had her girls, her influence, her perfect control. she knew how to make people bend without lifting a finger, how to turn a single glance into a command. but under the perfume, the perfection, and the flawless composure, there was something else; the quiet ache of someone who built an empire to keep from being hurt. she swore she didn’t care about the loud boy from charms with the messy hair and the drummer’s hands, but every time he smirked her way, she felt the careful walls she built start to crack.
summary: your friend group finds out something shocking about you, Hogwarts's biggest heartthrob.
wc: 1.5k
cw: undertones of remus x reader, talks of sex, suggestive(?)
A charming smile that swept boys and girls alike off their feet. Confidence that had teachers and students agreeing with any word that came tumbling out of your mouth. Luring eyes attracting prey after prey into your arms, whether it be at a party or from across the library. A roster of people lining up in front of you that had Sirius Black intimidated. Everyone wanted you, and not a single person could deny that.
Some people were genuinely intimidated to approach your friend group, and you weren't surprised. Why wouldn't they when you had the two heart throbs, the scariest student at Hogwarts, both Head Students, and a raging lesbian? That’s why everyone left your favourite spot in the common room empty, whether you were there or not. And it was always available for after parties like this one. You slumped down on the couch next to Remus, snatching his bottle of beer and taking a sip before pulling a face. Sometimes you were intoxicated enough to forget you hated beer — this was not one of those times.
“He a good kisser?” Asked Marlene from the armchair she was vacating, watching as you waved goodbye to the Hufflepuff you'd been making out with. You shrugged, letting the smile drop from your face when you turned back around. “Just enough.” “Not enough for you to take to bed?” Questioned Sirius, hiding his smirk from behind his own beer bottle. “You say that as though I sleep around.” You didn’t mean to get the entire group laughing, but you couldn’t help the smile on your face at their cluelessness. “Right, because how many people have you slept with? One? Three hundred?” You threw your head back with a laugh at Lily’s comment, eyes attracted to where she and James held hands tightly.
“Why, how many have you slept with Sirius?” You asked, suddenly curious. He winced, lips moving silently as he counted the numbers in his head. “Like twelve?” You hummed apprehensively. “Thought it would be more.” “More? Lady, you’re really scaring me here.” He shot back, eyes wide in shot. “Genuinely sweetheart, how many is it?” Pushed Marlene.
You turned to Remus, now holding you snug against him by the arm around your shoulders. The boy smiled at you, noticing the mischievous glint in your eyes. “They’re not going to believe me when I tell them.” Remus chuckled at your loud whisper, watching as you started giggling to yourself. “Oh I can’t wait to see your faces when I tell you.” You announced, feeling your cheeks heat up as you continued laughing. Remus swallowed thickly, trying not to think about the number. Lily, sat directly facing you on the warm rug with her boyfriend, looked terribly concerned for your wellbeing.
“Okay, ready?” You asked, scanning the group one last time. “Wait!” Yelled Sirius, “Let’s place bets!” You nodded, seeing Remus roll his eyes from your peripheral vision. “Is that appropriate?” He rubbed your arm softly, and you turned to him again, telling him “Let them.” He was confused for a moment. Were you under the impression he knew how many people you slept with?
“Okay,” Marlene announced, “I want twelve, I’m matching Sirius’s count. Lily says seventeen, James says seven, okay odd man out. Sirius?” “Twenty three.” You gasped loudly, putting your hand out towards Sirius in a theatrical gesture. “I think you’ve had enough to drink, Mr. Black.”
“Oh just spill, will you?” He countered. “Okay, here we go.” You took a deep breath, taking one last look at each of your friends’ faces before finally saying. “I’m a virgin.”
Marlene screamed, standing up and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You’re a fucking liar is what you are.” Said Sirius with an unimpressed look on his face. “Zero?” You heard Remus mumble. He just wished you didn't sense the relief in his voice. “And I wasn’t hiding it either. If you’d asked, I’d have told you.” Marlene shook her head.
“Lies, because when I asked last week how it was with Rosier, you said-”
“Good. I said it was good.”
“And then I asked if it was mind blowing and you said-”
“Not really… Because what’s so mind blowing about a good make out sess?”
Lily suddenly gasped. “You sneaky little- so just because we’ve never said the word sex in the questions, you didn’t - oh my godric.” You shrugged, a smile on your face. “Wait so how has the entire castle been fooled?” Asked James, looking at you with genuine interest. “I mean boys in the Quidditch locker rooms talk about you all the time.”
“People exaggerate things. I’ll give a hand job here and there, and when they can’t get it up again I’ll just say it was shame and they’ll leave. I guess they’re just too embarrassed to reveal those details. And you’d be surprised by the amount of guys who cum in their trousers from a little kissing and grinding.” You heard Remus’s breath hitch in his throat. “You’re joking, right?” Clarified Sirius. You shook your head. “I’ve never tried hiding the fact that I’m a virgin. Thought you’d know.” You turned your head towards Remus, finally looking at him in the eyes.
“When I asked if you slept with Malfoy, you said no. Said you didn’t sleep around. I thought you meant you didn’t sleep around much. When you came back from Davies’s dorm, I asked you about it and you said ‘these boys are disappointing. A little kissing and they’re done for.’ I thought you meant kissing while fucking. Jesus, it’s been right in front of our faces.” Remus ranted breathily, looking at you with a confused expression.
“So Hogwarts’s number one heartthrob is a virgin?” Gasped Sirius. “Kissing enough guys made people think you’re sleeping with them all?”
“I’m good at what I do, Sirius, there’s no denying that.” His face flushed red, and from across the couch, you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips. "Mind blowing kisser, in fact." “You see - that!” Marlene cried, sitting back down. “You’re so confident, and you could have anyone. So - so why haven’t you?”
You leaned your back against the couch, stealing Remus’s beer from him again and taking a long sip. “I just - I enjoy kissing people, you know? And I don’t want to have sex with any of these guys who are only interested in that. Like they all hope they’ll sleep with me and then steal my heart so they can be the ones to break it. I want-” You huffed, downing the rest of Remus’s beer. The boy huffed, pushing you to the side in mock annoyance. You laughed lightly. “I want someone I have a genuine connection with. An emotional commitment before a physical one.”
Your eyes followed Remus as he got up to fetch another beer, and you saw him grab a pre-mixed cocktail. He opened both bottles, handing you the watermelon flavoured drink, and you smiled at him softly. A long silence fell on the group, watching as you thanked him with a loving look in your eyes.
“Godric,” started Sirius, breaking the comfortable silence, “You must masturbate like-” “Never.” You cut in. It was his turn to scream now, and even James and Lily’s jaws dropped. You started laughing again as you took another sip of your drink. “Not my thing.” “But you have, right?” Asked Marlene, a desperate look in her eyes. You shook your head.
“So the biggest heartthrob at Hogwarts isn’t only a virgin, but has never had an orgasm.” You nodded at Lily’s shocked words. She was discovering a whole new side of her best friend. “Hogwarts’s biggest heartthrob is actually Hogwarts’s biggest prude.” You grinned, almost proudly, at Sirius’s words.
You stood suddenly, putting your drink down on the table and stretching your back in an exaggerated manner. “Well, I’m going to go have another peaceful, virgin night’s sleep.” Marlene cackled at your comment, and you squeezed Remus’s outstretched hand as you passed by. It was easy to notice how relieved he was to know that you didn't sleep around. That maybe, his amateur skills in bed could impress you.
“Hey y/n?” You spun around, hand still holding Remus’s. You hummed at Sirius’s call, tossing your hair out of your face. “I’m not drunk enough now, but next time, I’m finding out just how good of a kisser you are.” You winked at your friend, missing the glare Remus sent his way. You bent down, pressing a kiss on Remus’s forehead. The unsuspecting boy jumped at the feelings of your soft lips on his forehead, and he turned to wave bye at you, but you had already turned your back to him and were halfway up the stairs.
Once you were out of earshot, Sirius laughed loudly, clutching his sides. “Oh, should’ve seen his fucking face! Chill out, Remus, I am not stealing your girl.”
oml dalia dare i admit that my college roommate sorta looks like james potter (drooling btw rn) so if i may requets a james potter x reader oommates to lovers sorta things with lots of fluff and crack 🤌🤌 preferably if james has a nightmare and ends in bed with roomate reader :3
unexpected company
roommate au: james potter x reader
synopsis: caught in the kitchen at three a.m., james can’t help but gather the nerve to make a move on you, his hot roommate, that seems to be avoiding him.
w/c: 2.4k
warnings: modern au, roommate/roommate flirtation, suggestive themes, sleep deprivation, mentions of sex, casual language, humor, james is desperate, not proofread, cuddling.
You could probably count the number of actual conversations you’d had with your roommate on one hand. Maybe two hands, if you were feeling generous, but that’s pushing it. The truth was, you barely talked to him at all.
Not that you disliked him. James Potter was… fine. Charming in a sort of chaotic, slightly infuriating way, and the kind of guy who made it obvious why anyone would want to live with him.
It was why you agreed to take him on as a roommate whenever you were searching about two months ago.
But life had other plans. Between your mountain of college classes and your obsessive overtime shifts at work—basically every hour of every day that could conceivably earn you a promotion—you were barely ever in the apartment.
And James, true to form, had his own life spinning around somewhere else, leaving the apartment eerily quiet most of the time.
So when you did talk, it was always short, robotic, and slightly awkward. Something like:
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Uh… we’re out of [insert mundane household item].”
“Noted. I’ll pick it up later.”
“Cool, thanks.”
“No problem.”
And then you’d go your separate ways, vanishing for days until the next equally thrilling mini-interaction. The kind of stuff that made you consider installing a whiteboard in the kitchen just to keep track of the excitement.
Your friends, naturally, thought this was a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.
They constantly reminded you that you were living in the perfect setup for your very own roommates-to-lovers AU, and yet here you were, treating James Potter like an NPC in your apartment rather than a potential romantic lead.
You tried to explain that you didn’t even know the guy, that the few words you exchanged didn’t exactly qualify as a relationship, but they were relentless.
“You mean to tell me you’re literally living with James Potter and have no idea what he’s like?” Dorcas squealed, eyes wide.
“Yes,” you said, very clearly. “Exactly that.”
“Which is exactly why you should talk to him!” she countered, practically bouncing with excitement. “Get some intel, make your move, or—” she paused for dramatic effect, “—let us intervene!”
It was hard to argue with logic like that.
James often found himself in the same predicament.
Every now and then, his friends would bring you up—how was his mysterious roommate doing, what were you like, was it true you were never home? And every single time, James had to give the same, pitiful answer: “Honestly? No idea.”
Sirius had this ongoing theory that you weren’t real—just some elaborate bit James had committed to for attention.
He mostly stuck to that idea because it drove James insane and made him flustered every time he tried to defend your very real existence.
Usually, Remus would cut the teasing short before James got too worked up, but still, he’d always end up a little sulky afterward.
Because you were real. Real and, unfortunately for his peace of mind, very, very pretty.
It was almost painful how much the situation sucked. From the moment you’d opened the door during his roommate interview, wearing mismatched socks and an expression that said you’ve got five minutes to prove you’re not a serial killer, he’d been done for.
You’d laughed—even snorted—when he’d made a dumb joke he hadn’t meant to say out loud, and that had sealed his fate.
That interview had been, hands down, one of the hardest of his life. While you were asking normal, responsible questions about rent and cleaning schedules, James was just trying not to stare too long or say anything stupid enough to ruin his chances of living across the hall from the pretty girl with a sassy mouth.
If he’d known that would be the longest conversation he’d have with you for the next two months, he would’ve made it count—asked what you liked to do, what kind of music you listened to, what brand of tea you were so loyal to that the cupboard was always stocked with it.
But no, he’d completely blanked, too busy noticing how soft your laugh sounded and how good you looked in fuzzy socks.
Now, he spent most nights hoping you’d skip class or take a day off work—anything to give him a chance to talk to you again about something other than running out of coffee filters or paper towels.
However, the light shining from under your door this night at three in the morning stood to change this pathetic arrangement.
You were typically up late finishing assignments for school that you couldn’t get to during the day outside of work, and tonight was no different.
But out of the two months you’d been living with James, never, ever had you seen light coming from outside your door this late at night.
You stare at the light in confusion, slowly processing what it meant since you’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours at this point.
Looking at the time on your laptop to check and see that it was as late as you thought it was, you sigh and rub your eyes as they began to sting again from the bright light of your screen.
You took this as a sign to quit for the night and shut your laptop, leaving your desk to investigate the hall light.
The door creaks slightly as you crack it open to see the light not coming from the hall, necessarily, but from James’s room, the door left open wide enough for you to see that your roommate was not in there.
Your eyebrows furrow together and you frown. Then, oddly, without a second thought, you head to the kitchen.
You come to the doorway after silently padding down the hall to see James, in all his six-foot, tanned abs glory, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants, hunched over and rummaging through the fridge.
Whatever instinct it was that told you he would be in here had proven to be correct.
He eventually turns around with a Tupperware container in his hand, shutting the fridge with his foot, but freezes in the middle of setting the container down on the island once he sees you.
To be honest, you hadn’t even registered that he wasn’t wearing a shirt while he was turned around, but now that he was facing you, you have to force yourself to keep eye contact even though you could feel your face heating up slightly.
James, on the other hand, is frozen to his spot. He feels like he’s been caught selling drugs by his parents for some reason even though he knows getting food from the kitchen late at night isn’t a felony.
Seeing you was so rare, though, that it took him a second before he realizes this is his chance.
Sleep-deprived as you were, you were here, in front of him, with no other obligation for you to attend to. And God, if you didn’t look adorable as fuck in your sweatpants and hoodie, sleepily staring at him like he was an apparition.
You rub your eyes for what feels like the thousandth time that night, and the motion finally spurs him into action. “Can’t sleep either?” James asks, setting down the food he’d just pulled from the fridge, trying to sound casual (which he fails miserably at).
“I was looking for you,” you reply, your voice a little rough from disuse. It doesn’t exactly answer his question, but it’s the best your tired brain can manage.
Good God, you think, refusing to let your eyes drop below his shoulders, is that a fucking ten-pack?
You don’t even notice how intimate your words sound, but James does—and his heart skips a beat.
You’re clearly exhausted, probably didn’t mean it the way it came out, but James is James, and now that you’re standing here, sleepy and soft and right in front of him, he’s not wasting the moment.
The shift in his expression is almost instant. Surprise melts into a grin that threatens to split his face, one eyebrow quirking up as he leans forward on the counter, resting his arms against the cool surface.
His golden eyes gleam with mischief, and you swear your pulse jumps just from the way he’s looking at you.
“Does that mean you think I’m a snack?”
Your eyes go wide, heat flooding your cheeks. “What?! No—that’s not—I didn’t—”
Well, the reckless half of your brain starts, you’re not wrong— but you shut that thought down immediately.
James laughs softly, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, you could’ve checked anywhere in the flat, and you came straight to the kitchen.”
You glare at him, mostly because you can’t think of a good comeback. “What’s wrong,” you deadpan, trying to sound unimpressed and ignore the way your heartbeat’s still hammering.
His grin falters, just slightly. He looks away, shoulders stiffening for a moment. “Just a bad dream,” he says quietly, shrugging like it’s nothing.
You frown, the teasing air between you shifting into something softer. He stands up straight, shoving his hands into his pockets, and forces a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
It’s obvious something’s bothering him, but if he doesn’t want to talk about it, you won’t push.
You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling over something you might regret. “Do you kick in your sleep?” you ask suddenly.
James blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. One hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting around as if trying to find the logic behind it. “Uh, not that I know of?”
Your eyes flick to the way his bicep flexes when he scratches the back of his neck, and you force yourself to look up again. “Well, my bed’s big enough for two, so as long as I don’t end up on the floor, you’re welcome to share it—If you want to, I mean. No pressure or anything,” you add quickly, words tumbling over each other.
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before breaking into a full, bashful grin.
It’s ridiculous how pretty it is—warm and soft and golden, the kind of smile that makes you forget what you were saying in the first place.
You feel a bit stupid for spending so many nights working when this is what’s been a room away all along.
“Yeah,” James says, his voice quieter now, hands slipping back into his pockets. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”
You scoff, pretending to sound unimpressed. “I’m the one who offered, Potter. Why would I mind?” Still, the corner of your mouth betrays you—his grin’s contagious, and fighting it is hopeless.
You turn on your heel and pad down the hall toward your room.
From behind you, you hear the fridge door close—maybe a little too forcefully—and then soft footsteps trailing after you.
When you reach the hallway junction, James veers off into his room. You pause, confused, until you see his light flick off and his door creak open again.
He reappears tugging a gray t-shirt over his head, hair a mess, looking somehow both tired and unfairly attractive.
You busy yourself at your desk, giving him a moment to climb into bed before switching off your lamp. The room dissolves into quiet darkness.
You slip beneath the covers, leaving enough space between you that it almost feels comical.
For a while, neither of you says anything. The only sounds are the faint rustle of sheets and the hum of the night air.
You stare at the ceiling, covers pulled up to your chin, acutely aware of how loud your heartbeat sounds.
When you glance over, James is on his side, back turned. You’re about to assume he’s asleep when he tilts his head slightly toward you.
“Hey, this might sound weird, and you can totally say no, but—”
“Are you about to ask me to have sex with you?”
“What—no!” He immediately turns over, eyes wide, before that familiar smirk starts tugging at his lips.
“I was gonna say cuddle,” he says, then adds with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “but I mean… I wouldn’t mind if we—.”
You gape at him, scandalized, as he flashes you that flirty, troublemaker grin. Without thinking, you grab the nearest pillow and whack him square in the chest.
“Behave, Potter!” you warn, though the laugh that slips out ruins any attempt at sounding serious.
He’s still grinning when you roll onto your side to face him, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “Cuddling’s fine,” you say, voice firm, “but don’t let your mind wander too far.”
That’s all the invitation he needs. He scoots closer, sliding an arm around you and pulling you in until your cheek rests against his chest.
Your face burns instantly. The hoodie you wore suddenly feels like a mistake—it’s too warm, too thick, and you’re far too aware of every exhale that leaves his lungs against your hair. His hand settles between your shoulder blades, steady and grounding.
Eventually, the tension eases. Your pulse evens out, your body sinks into his warmth, and the exhaustion you’d been fighting all night seeps back in. You can feel his breathing slow, the rise and fall of his chest syncing with yours.
“You know,” he murmurs against your hair, voice low and lazy, “I’d probably wait a few dates before asking you for sex.”
You flick his chest weakly. “Shut up, Potter. If you’re gonna ask me out, do it when I’m conscious.”
He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your forehead.
You’re already half asleep when you feel his smile press there, and he makes a quiet promise to do exactly that in the morning.
It took two weeks for the spell to work. By which time you'd pretty much forgotten about it, but the very naked and very clueless Lando standing at your door was a surprise to say the least.
Warnings: magical realism, smut, light somnophilia and dubcon, sub!Lando... and also dom!Lando because... you know... clones, bit angsty
Halloween event Masterlist
Lando had been a huge brat all week. Not just because he was moody at the moment, but because he felt like it, and he loved getting a rise out of you.
You loved, him, you really did. But he got under your skin like no one else could, and from time to time took great pleasure in driving you to the edge of insanity.
What he seemed to have forgotten though, was that he was dating a very grudge prone, very capable witch.
And he managed to get you so riled up that you really wanted to teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget. And generally the only way to get something through Lando's thick skull, was through sex.
So you flipped through your spellbooks, looking for something, anything that would be useful.
Your fingers froze when you got to a specific chapter.
Cloning.
You'd never attempted this particular spell before, but... God, the things you could do if you had two Landos... You shivered at the thought.
You did the spell, and for the next couple of days nothing happened, so you assumed it didn't work.
So you taught Lando a lesson the good old fashioned way (tying him up and making him beg for pussy), made up, and forgot all about it.
Until two weeks later.
You were in bed with a happily snoring Lando, when you heard a knock at the front door.
You looked at the time. It was 6 o'clock in the morning.
Confused, you made your way through the house and when you looked through the peep-hole, your blood ran cold.
You wrenched the door open and pulled Lando inside. He was naked, and understandably shivering.
You were in shock. This was definitely Lando, but you knew your Lando was asleep in bed, so that just left one explanation...
The new Lando didn't even give you time to say anything before he launched into a speech.
"Listen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a brat, I'm sorry I've been a dick lately, I've been under a lot of stress and I shouldn't take it out on you. I get that, but the fact that you used magic on me is fucking rude! I don't know why you thought it would be funny to teleport me outside without my clothes on, but this is too far! I almost gave Mrs. Bouchard downstairs a heart attack!..."
You were stunned. This Lando apparently had no memories of the past two weeks, or what you had been planning on doing with him... or that he was not, technically speaking, the real Lando.
You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.
"Okay, I realise this will sound crazy, but this isn't how the spell was supposed to work. I used a cloning spell, two weeks ago!... And you're the clone.... So. Yeah."
He stared at you in bewilderment. "The fuck do you mean, I'm a clone? What I am is your very pissed off boyfriend, who would like to get some sleep before my meeting at 10!" he stormed off.
The meeting. With Zak and Andrea. That happened two weeks ago.
You followed him into the bedroom in a panic, terrified of what your Lando was going to say when he caught sight of the impostor.
Thankfully, he was still snoring, but clone Lando froze in his tracks when he saw him.
His eyes darted around wildly, trying to piece it together.
There were clothes on the floor that he didn't remember wearing. The bottle of water on his bedside table was empty, despite him rembering having not drank any during the night.
Then his eyes landed on the digital clock, with the date on it.
When he went to sleep, it was the 8th, but the clock displayed a big red 23rd.
"I missed my meeting..." he whispered, defeated.
You steered him away, grabbing a dressing gown on the way and took him back to the kitchen.
"You didn't miss the meeting" you said softly, helping him get the robe on. "Although, you told me it was so boring you wish you had..."
He looked at you, and he seemed utterly destroyed. You supposed you'd feel the same if you you were him.
"Listen, I'm sorry about this. It hasn't really gone according to plan... We made up almost immediately after the fight, but only after I'd already cast the spell... you were supposed to appear that night, I don't know why it's taken two weeks."
He didn't say anything. You took a deep breath. "I'm going to get my spellbook, maybe we can figure this out"
When you came back, Lando had grabbed a box of biscuits and was nervously nibbling on one.
"Right." You started, laying the book open between you. "Page 63. Cloning"
You read through the method, which you'd done pretty much to the letter.
Then the warnings. "The clone will have the same memories as the subject, BUT ONLY UP TO THE TIME AT WHICH THE SPELL IS CAST. Anything after that will not be included, regardless of the time of the clones' appearance. The time of said appearance can vary, from a few minutes up to three days, anything longer is an anomaly and will not be held against the authors of this book..."
You trailed off, frowning at the rest of the inked text.
"Well, I told you to stop buying knockoffs..." Lando deadpanned.
"Not helpful" you snapped at him.
He shrugged, and popped half a biscuit into his mouth.
"What were you planning on doing with me anyway? Were you going to cheat on me with another me out of anger?"
You scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Actually, I was planning on making you go fuck yourself, literally"
Lando blinked at you, obviously surprised by your answer. "Really? You wanted me to... fuck... myself?"
His tone wasn't disgusted, it was more... intrigued.
Of course, clone or not, Lando Norris was Lando Norris. And Lando Norris was a freak.
"Don't tell me you're considering it"
His thick brows wriggled in mischief, and his mad grin was enough to get your heart rate to spike.
"Why not, that's why I'm here. Might as well..."
He slid off his chair and started walking towards the room where Lando was sleeping.
"Wait! Now? Are you serious?"
He gave you an annoyed look.
"What? So now you don't want to see me fuck myself?"
Your hesitation was enough for him to turn around and walk right into the bedroom.
Lando was naked in bed, you knew, and the other Lando probably guessed, so all it took to uncover him was carefully peeling back the duvet until his bare body was out for all to see.
He was hard, cock standing tall and proud like it always did in the morning.
Clone Lando looked at you with nothing but glee in his eyes as he sauntered around the side of the bed to grab the lube he knew was kept in the drawer.
Along with it, a blindfold.
Alarm bells rang in your head, telling you this wasn't a good idea, but you were way too curious about where this was going.
Lando managed to slide the blindfold onto the sleeping man, and straddle his thighs while warming up some lube in his hand.
As soon as he got a hand around... himself? Lando woke up with a jolt and a shaky moan. He wasn't used to being woken up like this.
The hand that tried to remove his blindfold was seized and firmly planted above his head.
"Shhh... relax." Other Lando whispered.
How Lando didn't realise that the voice in his ear was his own was a mystery, and you chalked it up to how groggy he probably was.
The pace on his cock increased, and his head tipped back in pleasure, more noises spilling from his lips as it went on.
Then Lando's other hand, the one not pinned above his head, suddenly curled around his clone's thigh.
Then his whole body went rigid and your own heart stopped. How he knew something was wrong from a soft touch on his thigh you didn't know, but the game was up.
He ripped the blindfold off too fast for anyone to intervene, and screamed in shock. Then he saw you next to the bed and screamed again.
"What the fuck!"
Clone Lando just cackled at himself looking so distraught.
"Calm down man. You never looked in a mirror before?"
That did not calm Lando down. In fact, it made his voice crack with how high it went.
"Calm down? What the fuck- what the fuck is going on?"
He scrambled out from under the other Lando and grabbed a pillow to cover himself with.
"What the..." there was something utterly disturbing about looking into your own eyes from the perspective of someone else.
The man in front of him looked like him, but different. Like how when you look at yourself in a mirror you're not actually seeing what you look like, you're seeing yourself backwards.
This was like looking at himself backwards.
It was undoubtedly him.
He looked at you, half anger half distress.
" I fucked up, Lan" you simply said.
He glanced back and forth between you and the other Lando.
"What do you mean? What is this?"
"I tried a spell a couple of weeks ago and it backfired... well, it worked but... late"
Lando didn't look any less confused, and other Lando looked thouroughly entertained.
"What?"
You sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed to put a hand on Lando's thigh reassuringly.
"You know when you were being a little shit after that Gala two weeks ago?"
He nodded, no idea where you were going with this.
"Well I was pissed off with you, and I cast a cloning spell. My goal was to make you regret being a brat by..." you glanced at the other Lando sheepishly. "...telling you to go fuck yourself. Literally. But the spell decided to take two weeks to work and, well... here we are."
You could see the cogs turning in Lando's brain, trying to make it make sense.
"That's... psychotic. You wanted me to fuck myself?"
You nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it through!"
He frowned.
"Wait, don't you mean you wanted me to get fucked? Or did you actually want me to fuck the clone? Which way round was it supposed to be?"
You scoffed in disbelief.
Lando Norris. The freak.
"That's what you're focusing on?" You asked, and he shrugged.
"What's done is done. Might as well make the best of it"
You couldn't believe it. You looked at the other Lando, who was wearing the widest grin you'd ever seen, and suddenly you realised what you'd gotten yourself into.
One freak was enough. Now there were two of them...
Well, naturally your loving boyfriend was feeling the need to be a brat, as usual, and his clone seemed eager to see what he looked like when he was getting fucked, so they mutually agreed on missionary, and all you could do was watch it all unfold.
You couldn't exactly stop them, they were eager, and horny, and arguing with one Lando was hard enough, two would probably kill you.
You watched as Lando lay down, hips propped up and legs hanging either side of his doppelganger.
He was quite red in the face as Other Lando warmed up more lube and rubbed lightly over his hole, making him shiver. You noticed he was having trouble meeting his clone's eyes.
"Lan, if you don't want to do this it's fine."
He shook his head. "No, I want to it's just... weird"
Other Lando hooked a finger under his jaw to make him look up at him.
"It's going to be fine. Just relax for me..."
There was something otherwordly about two identical faces breathing each other in, while one was being fingered open by the other.
The best part was the soft whines Lando was letting out, you knew them well from the times where you pegged him to get him out of his head after bad days.
The second best part was the manic grin that the other one was sporting as he fucked into the spot he knew with experience was going to make him lose his sanity within minutes.
When his cock breached Lando's rim, you were all but drooling at the sight of them together.
Lando's head was tipped back, pleasured moans escaping him while Other Lando pushed into him slowly, inch by inch until they were flush together.
"fuck..." they both gasped at the same time, and then they chuckled breathlessly.
They were both too pent up by the circumstances to wait, Other Lando pulled out and slammed back in quickly, and the heavy pace he set was impressive, even for Lando.
He looked down at him darkly, jaw slack as he started sweating with the effort, his hands holding Lando's waist to pull him back onto his cock on every thrust. It was animalistic, they both looked insane with it.
Then it slowed somewhat, and their bodies got closer, suddenly much more intimate.
"Now I know why you enjoy fucking me so much..." Other Lando looked at you with a sort of soft desperation in his gaze. "I look so... "
He didn't have the words, but you understood what he meant. Lando getting fucked always was a sight to behold. Soft lashes fluttering in an effort to stay focused, even though he always failed miserably and his eyes would roll back as he went limp with pleasure.
And now Lando was experiencing this for himself. He had a fundamental understanding of why you took so much pleasure in it.
You frowned when you realised that Lando, your Lando, wouldn't get to have those memories... they would dissappear along with the clone.
Maybe for his birthday you could bring him back somehow, let your Lando have the same experience.
"Mmh- fuck" Lando gasped when a particularly good spot was hit. He was getting close, the telltale shake of his legs gave him away.
Other Lando leaned over him, one hand cupping his jaw as their bodies moved in tandem, foreheads pressed together intimately.
"You feel so good..." Other Lando whispered, and his lips brushed against Lando's.
You held your breath. This was possibly the hottest thing you'd ever had the pleasure of watching...
Lando, in a last wave of desperation, grabbed the back of the other's neck and crashed their lips together, and they both moaned wantonly into each other's mouths as it all came undone.
Lando came first, crying out in a pitch only bats could hear, and Other Lando grunted as he emptied himself inside... himself, panting heavily.
They both had tears in their eyes, you could only imagine how they were both feeling with this profoundly weird, but inexplicably erotic turn of events.
Lando slumped back into the mattress, spent, and Other Lando didn't move from where he was draped over him. They stayed there for a while, breathing each other in.
Then your Lando turned his head to look at you.
"Can I fuck him, next time?"
You huffed sadly.
If you cloned Lando again, it wouldn't be the same one. The clone wouldn't have this clone's memories, only Lando's.
The Other Lando looked at you with a sad smile. He knew.
"That's not how it works, mate. Once I dissappear... that's it. My memories go. The next clone wil be you, with your memories."
Lando's head bounced against the bed in defeat. He knew it too, it was wishful thinking.
"Let's get some breakfast..." you tried to reason. "Maybe we'll think of something..."
The two Landos sat at the table, eating cereal silently, and the scary part was, you didn't know which was which.
They'd grabbed some random clothes while you were in the kitchen, and now it was impossible to differentiate them.
You flipped through the book, wondering if there was a way to make some kind of compromise, to make them feel better.
Time travel... nope.
Reversing spells... that wouldn't be much comfort to anyone.
Memory erasure...
You glanced up at the pair of them. Once you got rid of the clone, you could erase Lando's memories... make him forget the whole thing ever happened.
Somehow you found that more cruel than anything else. You carried on flipping.
Until you fell upon a page you'd never noticed before. Consciousness Merging... you read the page curiously.
'Merging the consciousness of two people. All memories will be shared by both parties, and SHARED memories will be remembered from BOTH POINTS OF VIEW.'
In the margin was a little scribble. 'Ideal in the event of accidental cloning'
You frowned at the precision of that note. It was perfect. As if the book had read your thoughts.
One of the Lando's must have noticed your expression.
"What is it?"
You looked at them solemnly.
"Well, we have two options... first one is I erase your memories so that it's as if none of this ever happened..."
They looked at each other, distress evident on their face.
"Or, I merge your consciousnesses. So that you get the memories of doing both. Then next time, if there is a next time, the clone will also have both... it's the only way to conserve the memories of this clone."
You still weren't entirely sure which one you were trying to talk to.
"I can live with that." One of them said quietly. "That way, I can know how it felt for you, and next time I'll make it even better"
That was a very sweet sentiment, and the Lando next to him nodded slowly. Then looked at you.
"When will he dissappear?"
"As soon as I do the counter spell for the cloning. After I've done the merging spell"
He nodded and looked back at his clone.
"See you around I guess"
Other Lando smiled and pulled him in for a tight hug.
You could feel emotions swirling in your chest. No one could understand Lando better than himself, it was probably nice to have that, someone who truly knew you, even temporarily.
They cleared their throats, holding hands under the table as they turned to you one last time, stony resolve matching on each other's faces.
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