Pathetic daeron and Reader who lives edging him til he cums himself pls 😖
u guys need to request more subby men content i love it so much… also guys sorry my quality & quantity of writing has gone down… im super jet lagged still and its so hot here that ive turned stupid
𑣲⋆｡˚ Daeron lounged back against a mountain of silken pillows and expensive furs. he was beginning to enjoy this life of excess you demanded from him— because why wed a prince if he cannot give you everything?
you had convinced him to indulge in a two-person feast of sweetmeats and honeyed dates, braised eels and the most delicate of salty pastries, all eaten with a lovely imported wine. now, his tunic was discarded and his eyes were glazed over with a cocktail of alcohol and lust. you were in a similar state: hair ruffled, the thin slip you were wearing hanging low on one of your shoulders, daring to give a hint of what laid beneath, lips stained with the sugared berries you had been eating not so long ago.
your hand wrapped loosely around his cock, pumping it languidly while he huffed with frustration. it was thick and warm and pulsing with need. “faster… gods, please, just a bit faster.” Daeron groaned, head falling back into the pillows there.
you smiled, thumb grazing the most sensitive part of his cock, smearing the precum across the tip. you increased the pace only slightly, palm sliding with a wet sound against his shaft. “is the prince impatient?” you cooed, eyebrows knitted together in mock-sadness for him.
Daeron whined, hips jerking upwards, trying to get the kind of friction he needed. your hand moved faster, and he let out a long sigh, his eyes falling closed. “oh— oh gods, yes. yes, don’t stop…” the words tumbled out.
you watched his face, noting the way his jaw tightened and his breath turned into shallow gasps. his muscles tensed and one of his hands fisted the blanket beneath him, the knuckles turning white, signalling the imminent arrival of his climax. you abruptly opened your hand, pulling away completely, admiring how his cock looked so red and pathetic, desperate for release.
Daeron’s chest heaved, looking at you with wide, betrayed eyes. “what are you doing?” he gasped, “why did you stop?”
“i’ve decided you’ve had enough for now.” you replied.
he reached for you, but his movements were clumsy, hampered by the wine. “just… put your hand back on it. now. put it back on!” he said. he was trying to sound commanding but the words came out more needy, whiny.
“so demanding!” you teased, reaching out to flick his nipple, at which he let out another strained cry and bucked his hips up. “it’s almost endearing how pathetic you look.”
a frustrated whine exited his mouth, “please, just let me finish. i’ll do anything. i can’t… i can’t stand it.”
you leaned forward, breath warm on his skin, a single finger beginning to trace the length of his underside, from the tight skin of his balls up to the leaking tip. “maybe later.” you murmured, “or maybe i’ll just leave you like this until morning. you can wait, can’t you?”
“no! no, no, no,” Daeron wailed, his voice bordering on a sob. he shifted frantically, cock bouncing against his stomach. “please, i’m begging you!”
“fine…” you sighed, finally closing your hand around his cock again, your pace starting out torturously slow. “but i think you need to ask for what you want properly.”
he bucked up into your hand, “please… please let me cum, please,” he whimpered, his whole self dissolved into nothing more than a puddle of needy desire. “please, please, please, i love you, just let me… let me.”
you laughed and sped up, feeling the warmth of him against your palm as you slid your hand up and down, watching his face twist up and his mouth fall open, drool pooling at one of the corners. his muscles once again seized up, the hard planes of his chest turning to stone and his fingers weaving into the blanket.
“ah— oh gods—” he stuttered out before his balls tightened and released, spurting hot ropes of cum all over his own stomach. “i.. i love you…” he whined. “‘s so good….”
you kept stroking him, his cock red and wet, milking ever last bit out from him. soon your hand was wet as his stomach, coated in a thick layer of semen. god, how could this man produce this much on a diet of alcohol and bread? he turned limp, his limbs collapsing into the bed.
pose for the camera | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x fem og youtuber reader
it's december which means it's vlogmas, which in turn means the internet gets to see charles run around after his ultra festive gf in 4k
day seventeen of aston martini's advent calendar
MASTERLIST | CHARLES LECLERC MASTERLIST
yourusername
liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel and 3,429,405 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: the first day of vlogmas is coming in an hour eek
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user1 i can't believe i've been watching her for so long
user2 i remember when her vlogmas was just weekends because she was still in school
user3 i was in school then and i still watch her now lol
lewishamilton have you ever been told you're the most stressful person to be around?
yourusername no...
charles_leclerc lewis! so rude :(
lewishamilton HOW ARE YOU SO PUT TOGETHER YOU'RE STRESSING ME THE FUCK OUT
yourusername years of pinterest addiction tbf
charles_leclerc she's just a vision of excellence
lewishamilton yes she's very good in front of the camera... you'd think you would've picked some of it up by now
charles_leclerc I'M A GREAT ACTOR
lewishamilton some of us have seen the ads where you have to talk
charles_leclerc y/nnnnnnnnnn defend my honour please
yourusername oh baby... you're very good unscripted? and just being you, with no directions or words
charles_leclerc you want me dead :(
user4 i'm surprised y/n allowed such an outfit in the second pic
yourusername i'm allowing ferrari teamwear for NOW just because red is a christmas colour
user5 they did that just for vlogmas, so true of them
maxverstappen1 more embarrassing footage of charles SCORE
yourusername VLOGMAS IS EMBARASSING TO YOU?
maxverstappen1 no ??????
maxverstappen1 i just like to watch charles make a fool of himself trying to keep up
yourusername or you just want to watch him in domestic bliss you SICK FUCK
maxverstappen1 WHAT
charles_leclerc ladies, there's enough of me to go around
yourusername no the fuck there isn't
oscarpiastri
liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 1,389,204 others
tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername
oscarpiastri: families that vlog together, stay together
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user7 oscar true yourusername truther
user8 i mean he grew up with three sisters so likely he knew about her for ages
user9 bro has been locked in
yourusername my second favourite son
oscarpiastri basically first so i'll take it
yourusername i'll have you know leo was just as instrumental in making that damn intro
oscarpiastri i literally drove an f1 car for it
oscarpiastri i had to get special permission from mclaren
olliebearman i wouldn't have complained this much just saying
oscarpiastri well you didn't get chosen DID YOU
user10 i'm dying, vlogmas is so important we have f1 cars worth millions used for the INTRO
user11 it's always been this deadly serious, we just now have the budget
user12 how many christmas trees do we want to bet on there being this year?
lewishamilton i've helped put up four
lewishamilton i don't think i've put this much effort into anything this year
yourusername and? they look great so very much worth it
yourusername also you're being paid in eating ALL OF THE BAKES I MADE
yourusername they were meant to last a week mr hamilton
lewishamilton bad time to remind you i'm a sir?
user13 the grid being in on vlogmas is killing me
user14 need yall to track how many make appearances
user15 we had oscar, ollie, lewis, carlos, alex and pierre last year and i'm confident we can double it
user16 abu dhabi weekend will surely come in clutch
charles_leclerc family you say? THEN WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE UNTANGLING THESE LIGHTS
oscarpiastri woah, can a guy not step aside to make an instagram post anymore?
charles_leclerc i'm gonna accidentally make a noose from christmas lights if i'm not careful
yourusername he needs to be monitored around the lights oscar, you know this
oscarpiastri he's like 28?
charles_leclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 2,574,038 others
tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri
charles_leclerc: the season is finally done! time to focus on my full time job of camera operator, house husband and mistletoe hanger
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user17 FINALLY
user18 too much f1 in my vlogmas
user19 at least we got most of the grid making appearances!
user20 some better than others...
maxverstappen1 using my likeness for such slander is actually illegal
charles_leclerc nuh uh you embarrassed yourself just fine on your own buddy
yourusername max YOU asked to do an OOTD
yourusername you said, and i quote 'lemme do an ootd, it'll be so funny because i don't wear anything different' and added in the underwear joke all yourself
maxverstappen1 well!
maxverstappen1 PR are angry at me :(
redbullracing we love y/n's vlogmas so it was obvious we'd see it in the end max
yourusername omg red bull being y/n stans
redbullracing can we get a shout out?
yourusername stop shipping my fiance with your driver and maybe we can talk
redbullracing that's the threads admin not me :(
user21 i did not know i needed to see the grid playing pass the parcel
user22 all for it to be like a £10 gift card
user23 millionaires were really wrestling over that
user24 any type of competition and they go feral
yourusername excited to have you to myself
yourusername well and my audience
yourusername but i think they might miss you more than i do
charles_leclerc bit rude?
yourusername well obviously i miss you
yourusername but i have hours of dumb extra footage of you to watch when i miss you
user25 RELEASE THE FILES
yourusername ummmmmm.... no!
yourusername anyway, babe, do you think ferrari would let us use the sf25 as a sleigh for the charity event?
charles_leclerc probably not?
yourusername why not? not like it's good for anything else, especially not racing
charles_leclerc thank god they're on christmas holidays right now
yourusername
liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 3,843,209 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: god bless a man who will deal with all of my festive bullshit
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user28 we aren't blessing A MAN? of all things...
user29 for real i'd kill to do what he does
user30 i could make her happier
charles_leclerc IT'S JUST A CUTE CAPTION
charles_leclerc I LOVE VLOGMAS AND ALL THINGS FESTIVE
charles_leclerc AND MOST IMPORTANTLY I LOVE Y/N
charles_leclerc MORE THAN ANY OF YOU PEOPLE COULD
user31 okay queen
oscarpiastri i think charles might be one jingle short of a bell
charles_leclerc nope, just sick of people thinking i don't appreciate the WONDER of vlogmas
oscarpiastri eh i guess so, you do watch the old videos all the time when you're away from y/n
charles_leclerc okay they didn't need to know THAT MUCH
user32 i am very much loving vlogmas so far
user33 they're FEEDING us
user34 and yet i still want more... this is the ultimate greed
olliebearman not enough ollie bearman, 7/10
yourusername you know you can just come over right?
olliebearman oh!
charles_leclerc no dna test needed i guess
olliebearman i'm on my way, can we bake ?
yourusername of course
charles_leclerc forever blessed to be allowed with your greatness
yourusername you little charmer
yourusername i love you too
yourusername now get back here, you can't distract me with pledges of love to get out of gift wrapping
charles_leclerc BUT I'M SO BAD AT IT
yourusername you can just sit there, be pretty and hand me the tape
charles_leclerc omg yay 🥳
fin.
note: can you tell i'm an og zoella stan (still in her top 10% of viewers LMAO)
SUMMARY: After a day full of work its time to play. Luckily Max knows exactly what it takes for her to relax
WARNINGS: smut, mention of several sex toys, tying up wrists, use of a spreader bar, spanking (flogger), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare mentioned, slight possessiveness
WORDS: 1694
_____
The dim light of my laptop is the only source of light in my office, while I type the last report of the day, hoping to finish it soon, because today was so repetitive. “Hi.” Max's voice, suddenly coming from the doorway, makes me look up from the screen. “Hey Max.” I greet him back, haven't even heard him entering the apartment and with a glance at the time I realise that he shouldn't be here already. “You´re back early.” I comment, saving the file, before turning my attention fully to him for a moment. Max comes over, stepping behind me, hand finding the back of my neck, fingers softly tracing the strained muscles there. “Yeah, it didn't take as long as expected.” He hums and I know he loves that fact, wasn't really excited for today and being done early is just to his liking.
“Want to play?” Max asks me, letting his hand rest on my cheek and I look at him while gnawing at my lower lip, already feeling excitement pool through my body, but there is just one last obstacle. “I need a few minutes to finish this report.” I tell him, gesturing to my laptop and Max nods, knowing that work will always have priority over our playtime. Even if we use it as a distraction sometimes. “Okay.” Max mumbles, stepping behind me while my fingers start flying over the keyboard again. I feel him part my hair into sections and then he carefully braids my hair down to keep it out of the way while we play. I look up at him, telling him “Thank you.” Before letting my eyes roam over the document one last time, finding a mistake and correcting a phrase that doesn't sound well, before finishing it off. Finally closing the laptop and standing up, coming chest to chest with Max.
“We can go.” I say and Max smiles down at me. “Give me a kiss first.” He demands and I lean up, meeting his lips with mine and I sigh at the familiar feeling. Heat pools between my legs when he pulls me just a little closer, before detaching his lips from mine. “Better.” He states, pecking my lips again and then his hand holds onto mine. “Now we can go.” Max decides, leading me to our playroom, a dedicated spot where we have all our toys and some things that would raise questions in our bedroom like hooks and displays of different spanking items. It's a room with just a dim light and as soon as we enter, I undress, placing my clothes neatly on one of the dressers, before turning to Max, who is roaming around the room, picking up a few things.
“Let’s make sure you stay where you're supposed to.” Max announces and a shiver runs down my spine, looks like I am getting tied up today. “I trust you.” I tell Max and he smiles, kissing me on the forehead gently while whispering “Good Girl.” Closing my eyes I lean into his touch for a moment, until he pulls back, his eyes already dark with the lust in his mind.
“Wrists.” Max instructs me and I hold them together in front of me. He gets a silky rope out of his back pocket, his fingers quickly wrapping it around my wrists, securing it with a knot. Gently pulling and tugging on them, before looking at me. “Feel, okay?” Max asks, he always makes sure that I feel comfortable, no matter how much he likes the dominant part, he is still insisting on checking on me every time. I test out the bonds, they are tight, but not in an aching way, just holding me together. “Yeah.” I confirm and Max turns his head to the side “Not too tight?” He reassures another time, because the first time he tied me up, he bound me up too harshly leaving scuff marks behind. “It feels good.” I promise him and Max nods with a small smile “Great.”
He brings me a few steps to the side where one of the hooks is hanging from the ceiling. Bringing my arms above my head and ties them up there and forcing me on my tiptoes, pushing my chest out while Max looks at me, licking his lower lip with an appreciative nod.
Max steps out of my sight for a moment and suddenly something cool touches my inner thigh, making me flinch. “Spread your legs.” Max instructs me and I do, struggling slightly to stay on my feet like that and then watch him adjust the spreading bar, which will keep my legs apart. He connects it to my ankles, adjusting the width slightly so it keeps me open but wouldn't trigger a cramp. “Comfortable?” Max asks me, still on his knees to change anything, but it is okay. “Yes Max.” I confirm his question and he comes back to his feet.
“Now you´re mine to play with.” Max says that voice laced with a low purr while he walks around me. “You love that, don't you? Being at my mercy.” Max asks me, hand curling around my braid to pull my head back slightly and I feel a rush of heat in my core. “Yes.” I breathe and Max chuckles lowly, a sound that always sends shivers down my spine. “Didn’t expect anything else.” He says and I feel his fingers testing the bonds one last time, deeming them to be okay.
Max steps in front of me, eyes lingering on my body, before sighing, “You look so sexy all tied up.” Those words make me blush, but I love that I can make him react like that. Eyes trailing behind him while he picks out something from our walls with toys. Taking a flogger, testing it out on his hand, before returning to me. He lets the leather pieces trail over my skin, making me shiver at the featherlight touch.
Max keeps it slow at first, letting it caress my skin, sending shivers over my spine, even letting it brush between my folds, making me whimper. Then the first strike hits, making me gasp. It isn't as hard as he used it before, building it up while letting the leather come down in different places. On my breast, making my nipples ache, on my ass, making my skin prickle, my thighs, and one precisely on my pussy, making me arch.
“So responsive." Max sighs, knowing exactly what I can take and how he can push me to the edge without sending me over. I can hear him drop the flogger, one hand trailing up my inner thigh and I can only moan, body aching with need and skin sensitive from the strikes.
His lips meet my skin, starting at my sternum, tongue tracing one of the lines the leather left behind. Lips closing around my nipple, making me gasp. His tongue soothing in contrast to the flogger before and Max keeps wandering lower until he is on his knees in front of me.
Tongue parting my pussy and I try to close my legs, place them around his shoulder, but the bar keeps me open and for a moment I hang just on my arms, Max pulling me close by the back of my thighs. His tongue flicking against my clit and I whimper. He is taking his time, bringing me to the edge, pulling his head back to kiss my thigh again, making me beg him to continue. I hear him chuckle, his head diving in again.
“Oh Max!” I whimper when he pushes two fingers into my wet pussy, lips sucking on my clit, finally sending me over the edge. Crying out his name again, body shaking against the bonds and he just continues to lick and suck on my clit, drawing out the orgasm until my legs give out, making me hang just on my arms.
Max comes up again. Lips finding mine, making me taste myself and he gently helps me to my feet again, before pulling back. “I take the bar off now.” Max tells me frees my ankles, so that I can put my legs closer together again. He grabs the back of my thighs, hoisting me up and letting me wrap my legs around his hips.
He reaches between us with one of his hands, guiding his cock to my entrance, pushing in slowly and filling me up completely. I moan softly, pulling him closer with my legs and Max kisses my face, waiting for me to get used to the stretch. “So, fucking wet.” He murmurs and I whimper when he starts to move his hips.
Still not able to touch him while his cock slides in and out of me. Thrusts targeting the best spots inside of me, hands kneading my ass and I would love nothing more than to pull his head closer, but my hands are still bound above my head. I can only moan while Max increases the pace, fingers digging deeper into my skin and his breath coming out in short rasps. Feeling his cock twitch inside of me and my body is building up another orgasm. Max groans, hips grinding into mine and his hot cum filling me up sends me over the edge as well. My pussy is milking every last drop of his cum while my body goes limp.
Max reaches up with one hand while holding me secure with the other to untie me from the ceiling. Carrying me to the bed to let me down onto the mattress, fingers quickly untying my wrists, lips caressing the skin there while I just watch him. He settles beside me, fingers rubbing over my wrists in comforting circles and I lean my head against his chest.
“This was a good round.” I mumble and feel his chest rumble with a soft laugh. “Just say one word and we can start again.” Max says and I smile tiredly. “Give me a nap and I am all yours again.” I tell him and while I drift off into sleep, I hear his soft voice "You're always mine.”
-ˋˏ| summary: in the comfort of his marital chambers, Aemond is able to let go.
✧ | Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader
✧ | word count: 2.5k
✧ | Warnings: MDNI 18+, masturbation (m), bottom!aemond, dom/sub dynamics, (lowkey) desperation play, aemond gets teased a lot (and he fights back… that brat)
✧ | notes: i discovered that bottom!aemond (@bottomondweek) was last week... yeah, i am publishing it now. sorry... if it is not allowed to publish it now, i will tag it properly. based on day six: physique
Aemond wasn’t keen on weakness.
He didn’t think any Targaryen was, because simply they were made by Gods to be different. Made to rule, to bond with dragons and control them. He knew that, and he always tried to make the most of that privilege the Gods gave to him.
So when his mother required him to marry, he did so without fuss. A lady of a great house, and he did it dutifully. She was a graceful lady, elegant yet with a strong personality. He had seen her scold men at court as if they were mere kids who needed a spanking from their wet nurse.
And Gods forgive him, but he liked that. It spurs something in him that he didn't acknowledge completely.
“You’re skinnier” You notice, as you both lay in bed together. He wore only his short breeches, mid-thigh as he was hot from the warm bath he had taken.
“I’m not”
“Yes, you are” You insist. “I know my husband’s body”
He cannot argue with that, as he looks away a bit caught. He didn’t understand how could you notice something so small like that.
“Here, you are skinnier” you say, pressing your hands in his waist, your hands a bit more cold against his skin, and he blushes slightly, feeling how you grab his waist.
“Stop it”
“What?”
He feels your hands, caressing softly the sides of his waist, as if he was some kind of maiden. He had seen it in court, when a knight did so with the lady he was courting. It was borderline lewd, to do so in public and at court. But here, he was in his marital chambers, alone with his wife.
“You’re tickling me” he murmurs between his teeth.
“I’m holding you”
It is foreign, the feeling of being held. He doesn’t even remember being held as a kid, less more as an infant. Why would he want to be held as an adult?
“Here you are skinny” You murmur, kissing his cheek as your lips remain close to his face. “Your stomach is flat, doesn’t even look like you’re a prince who can have any food he wants to stuff his belly full. Of dornish wine, or the finest meat” You say, moving your hands to his abdomen.
“I train with the sword. I ran around the yard of the Keep. I am not letting myself go as did Aegon. I doubt he could lift a sword.”
“You talk too much”
He raises one eyebrow as you manage to fit him in your arms, pressing soft kisses on the side of his face. Aemond couldn't understand you sometimes. It was utterly confusing.
“What about it? Am I lying, you imply?”
“No, but it’s always a complaint. Your mother this, Rhaenyra that, your father this… That Jaehaerys pulled your hair, that Vhagar took a small flight, that Aegon is a whiny cry baby…” You say absentmindedly as you caress his stomach.
“He is” he insists, a bit grumpy now. He doesn't like being called out so accurately.
“So are you” You retaliate to his words, almost pinching his skin to reprimand him as well.
He grumbles something about being unfair, the least he needs now is to be scolded by you. He wanted to relax, to calm himself with a bath and then be comfortable and lazy for once.
“What, are you mad?”
Silence.
“Aemond. Are you mad?” The more quiet he is, the more amused you are “Is my love upset?” You say in that tone that it is condescending enough to make him turn around and frown at you, his cheeks red as his embarrassment kicks in.
“Stop it”
“What?” You ask again, moving your hands to his breeches now. Your tone is the same as the one when you first held his waist. “Let me take care of you… hm?”
He hates his traitorous cock because it eagerly reacts to your touch, as if he was a puppy in need of affection or else he will perish. Even if he remains grumpy, he doesn’t move away from your touch and he doesn't plan to.
He pulls his breeches down to his thighs as you accommodate to sit, rather than lying in bed. Aemond knows that you’ve taken interest in this.
“You’re sweet like this” You say, your hand moving to grab his (embarrassingly quick) hardening cock. He grits his teeth as he sighs, enjoying the feeling of being touched.
He hates to admit it, he is too prideful for that. But he likes when you take initiative, as you toy with him however you want and see fit for the day. When you boss him around, telling him how to behave.
“Shut up” He murmurs.
You smile, as his cock feels heavy already, hard, leaking and larger. You’d always admit he has a nice cock, and he was very careful with his appearance, too vain not to trim his pubic hair. It makes you smirk a bit.
“What?”
“You’re a brat”
“I’m not”
You don’t fight with him like Aegon does, as they would soon be in a childish fight of ‘yes’ and ‘no’. It frustrates him, because he remains upset and you, as always, so calm. He looks at you, trying to sit up.
“Gods, can’t you be still?”
He remains frowning, leaning on his elbows to see exactly how you start caressing his cock. Aemond tries not to whimper as his shoulders seem to shake, and he bites the inside of his mouth as he decides to watch.
Your hand is slow enough to tease him, you always did everything so slow. From the base, slowly caressing its way to the top, and as soon as it catched his tip, it was already back down. Slow, but not enough to make him enjoy the feeling completely.
Aemond wasn’t patient, and you knew it too. As you caress his cock, he lets out a little whimper, softly as you start caressing the sensitive head, already red and leaking under your soft touch. He was a slave to your touch, no matter how it came.
“Did you say anything?”
“No” he mutters, trying to feign his facade of stubbornness and disinterest.
“Mhm, Okay…” You say with a smirk, as your other hand comes to cup his balls.
You were killing him.
He didn’t know why he had to be so sensitive, as if the mere touch of his balls was enough to get him whimpering and shuddering. He bites his lower lip as he turns to face the ceiling, enjoying how delicious it was to have your hand stroking him and fondling his balls softly.
He can feel the heat on his groin, all he feels is how the pleasure inside him starts to boil. Turning down to see his cock, he was leaking, coating your hand as the drag of your hand was delicious, and made him raise his hips to follow your motion.
“Ah, ah…. Fuck” He hisses under his breath, not helping the whimper following. He tries to ignore it, even if he sees how you smirk widens.
Your hand on his balls was as excruciating, because both hands worked independently to have him a moaning mess like this, and it worked. He was sensitive with his balls, and the small tug would…
“Ah!”
When you look up to see him, he moves his gaze away, embarrassed.
“You sound so pretty, love”
“Shush” he says. “Keep going” he says, referring to his balls. He can feel your knees brushing against his right thigh, as you were sitting comfortably, as if you were not torturing him.
“Pff, those manners? I ain’t doing nothing but a favour to you”
“That’s completely rid-”
Aemond gets cut mid sentence when he feels your hand lower than his balls. His head immediately turns to see you, his cheeks red.
“Wha-”
“I’m teasing” you say simply, as he feels your fingers brushing against his rim.
“Keep your focus here” He practically demands, moving his legs softly.
“You start to sound like Aegon, you know”
“I don’t” he says, the redness of his face not going away. He tries, again, to sit straighter, extending his elbows to make his presence known. “You’re baffling, and you are… you make me…”
“Keep being this insufferable and I might bend you on my knee and force it out of you”
He frozens, mid sentence and looks at you with an expression almost as a deer caught in a hunt. You see his thoughts forming behind his eye, as if he tried to understand.
You only seem amused at how red he is at a mere jest. The tip of his ears were red, from embarrassment, no doubt. His paleness only made it more obvious, plus his platinum hair.
You’d never done so before. Sure, you sometimes would tease him around, even get him to allow you such delights rarely. Touching anything related to his rear, for example.
“You’re being…” he starts, almost insulted.
“I don’t wanna hear it”
“You’ll have to”
You roll your eyes exasperated. “You’re making this impossibly difficult”
“Is you the one that…”
The soft slap in his face shuts him up. It was not harsh, at all. It barely even had a sound, no sting at all, it was mostly to move his face and stop him on his tracks.
He could feel his cock heavy and practically hurting, demanding attention. He would have gotten his orgasm if he knew how to shut up about his secrets when you had your hand on his cock.
“Stop whining” you repeat. “I am going to stroke your cock however I want, and I’ll do whatever I want until you cum. Understand?”
He feels a bit self conscious, and most small in comparison. A bit ashamed even, but it only creeped like a bit of horniness too.
“Yes.” He murmurs.
“Yes what”
“Yes ma’am”
He feels like a dog saying it, but feeling your hand back at his cock is worth it. He wonders why he is so needy, to the point where a single command of yours, or your hand on him could make him a fool, following your every word. As if he was Mushroom, made to entertain your whims.
Aemond sits up better, leaning on his hands, as your right hand moves to separate his thighs to have better space between his legs. He feels like a maiden, which makes him feel embarrassed but… he doesn’t care now. He lets out a simple sigh as rests his head on your shoulder.
“Y-yes, fuck” he stamers, his nose nuzzling the naked skin of your neck, his breath warm and starting to become quicker by each drag of your hand.
He sees your hand, moving up and down with such grace and elegance, as if it wasn’t the lewdest of acts. It made his head spin, his eyelids fluttering at the feeling of your hand rubbing his tip in circular motions. He bites his lip, feeling his cheeks pink and his balls heavy with lust.
“How does that feel,honey?”
He tries to answer, but he doesn’t trust himself enough now. He opens his mouth, only for a moan to come out. Aemond was so turned on, feeling his cock burning with desire as you caress it.
“Feels good?”
“Yeah…” He says softly, his hips moving softly to follow your lead. He breathes out, trying to keep calm.
You keep going, moving your hand as he moves his hips to his own rhythm. He was getting needy, you knew, and he was insufferable when needy.
He presses somewhat reverent kisses on your neck, whimpering and trying to hold himself as he attempts to do everything he wants at once. He’s an overachiever like that.
“Wanna use my thigh to cum? Hm? Would that be better?” you ask sweetly, and he hates how he immediately nods.
“Yes, please” He even begs for it, but at the moment he doesn’t think about it much.
He has to change the position, holding himself better for when he rubs his dick into your thigh. It was crumbs of what he truly needed, but he was thirsty for anything. And most because he knows he’s making a show out of it for you; if he was turned on, so were you.
He practically ruts himself against your thigh just as he gets the green light, his hand gripping the bedsheet to hold himself as he moves his lips.
His mouth falls open, he can smell the scent you used for your bath earlier, and everything he can feel around him is you; overwhelming him, guiding him, pleasing him, loving him. It’s all he needed, deep in his soul.
You can feel his tip smearing precum against your thigh, and you watch how hard he was as his cock rutted against your skin. He moans, he trembles, and it’s all an indicator of his pleasure and how close he was to his peak.
“Good boy” you murmur, to which he whimpers. “You wanna mark my thigh, darling?”
He nods, his expression almost a needy pout, begging for you to say yes.
“Wanna cum on my thigh?”
He nods once again, and he politely says “Yes, please. Please” He adds the last one out of pure desperation to cum, his balls feel heavy and his spine practically shivers at the impending orgasm that he has been trying to delay.
You drive him to the edge, which you know he enjoys. At least afterwards, because you know that when he’s not allowed to cum, it is pure and animalistic desperation.
“Very well then, you can cum” you say, your hand moving to his face, cupping his cheek so his eye can see yours, assuring him as always “It’s okay, I got you” you say to him, as he whines, yet you know he’s about to cum. “Go on, cream on my thigh”
Aemond doesn’t need to hear it twice, practically squealing as his orgasm hits him before he can truly process it. He knows he’s making a mess on your thigh, his cock pumping his cum out as if he was milking your pussy. It doesn’t feel the same, of course, but the mere thought has him letting out a groan as he tries to get it out of his system.
He takes his sweet time, making almost sure his balls are empty before laying by your side, without more energy for anything more. Not for now, at least. He snuggles closer; needing that warm embrace and forehead kisses that, as predicted, you give to him.
“Hm. I’ll need to have another bath, it seems”
He doesn’t answer, just humming as his face was pressed against your clothed breast. He sighs dreamily, relaxing as he feels his cock softening.
“Look at that mess, darling” you say, teasing him. He opens his eye, and sees what you mean,, his cum on your thigh and surely it is a mess.
“Hmmm… you let me do it” he protests weakly, hiding his face on your chest.
“I did, didn’t I?” you ask softly amused. “You did good, my love. Why don’t we sleep now? Would you like that?”
He hums, nodding, but not really moving. He was practically boneless by now, and he can only say “Yes”, and knowing you will, once again, indulge him.
little drabble for my man on the podiummm!!! i’m so proud of himmm so here’s a lil gift 😛
your cheeks hurt from smiling. and the cold but that was the least of your worries.
204 podiums. he wrote history today, as he always seems to do the second that engine switches on.
the podium celebrations were perfection. you and your mother in law were ushered to the very front, watching as his car parked in front of you and his team from his side of the garage. he got weighed, tied his braids in a bun, took a sip of water and his eyes immediately connected with yours, causing the butterflies in your stomach to start fluttering all over the place. you knew that look in his eyes, giving you goosebumps.
he came over, excitedly hugging his mom and team before stopping in front of you, his large hand holding the side of your neck as he kissed your glossy lips for a moment before kissing your cheek and leaving lipgloss on it. lewis then hugged you which gave you the opportunity to kiss his cheek, leaving a much brighter lip stain in the middle of his cheek. he smiled at you cheekily and moved on, being rushed to the interviews.
during dinner with your mother in law and a few friends that were in canada, you scrolled on the socials for a bit after having half of your meal and with lewis’s hand heavy on your thigh. you chuckled at each fan’s tweet, their reactions to the very visible lipgloss mark and him basically flaunting it on camera for the world to see.
“if it wasn’t for the shower i took at the hotel, it’d absolutely still be on my cheek, love.” he smiled at you after showing him the tweets, the crinkles around his eye much deeper for you.
of course you blushed at his words, it was very easy for you to be wooed by your husband. “you’re corny as hell for that one.” you scoffed, failing to hide your smile as your cheeks burned. he squeezed your thigh in response to your words, and you just knew you were in for it when you got to the hotel.
—
“why you running, baby? ain’t this what you wanted?” he spoke lowly, gripping your leg that was currently over his shoulder and you were seeing stars as you clung to the bed sheets.
you see, you decided to plan something nice for lewis for whether he did good in the race or not. the lingerie set was absolutely stunning on your skin, the black and light pink accents really made your skin stand out. your tits sat perfectly and your ass poked out that it swallowed your underwear completely. you looked fine as fuck and you knew lewis was gonna get a podium in canada.
he made sure of it tonight.
“you feel so good, baby. saved this…” he teasingly picked up the bra that he basically tore off you, discarded next to your head where your braids made a halo. “all this for me. that’s it, y/n. give it to me.” he grunted, his thrusts remaining steady despite him knowing that his orgasm could rip through any moment.
“all for you, baby. ohh…fuck…” you panted, your fingers barely playing with your nipples as you were overcome with pleasure. you wanted to give him everything you got and he definitely understood you. “shit, baby. you love the way i make you feel? hm? tell me, sweetie.” he muttered but you heard him loud and clear despite the noise of skin slapping together.
“i love it so much, lew. i love you so much. please, please…i need to-”
“i know what you need. c’mere, baby. let go for f’me.” he murmured against your calf, kissing at it while digging his hands into your hips this time. “give it to me. that’s it, mama….c’mon.” lewis praised, letting you down slowly and immediately feeling you tremble in his arms while his thrust became slightly sloppy.
you pulled him down gently by his diamond chain and your finger was hooked onto it. sloppily kissing your husband and sucking on his tongue while orgasming was one of your favourite things to do and lewis knows that. as he released his thick load into you, he slowed his movements down but he never slid out. “fuck, i love you.” he said, lips brushing against your neck as he tried to catch his breath.
“i love you too. my living legend.” you smiled, cradling his cheek as he lifted his head to look you in the eye. that nickname you just gave him made him shiver and his dick slowly hardened inside you again.
without warning, he flipped you over and adjusted your body so that you could be comfortable while straddling his hips and him filling you up, your combined juices a visible sign of love where you connected.
he grabbed a handful of your ass, causing you to grind on him to let out a moan and he knew how sensitive you were.
with a stupid grin on his face, he spoke with one arm behind his head. “show me what you got, baby.”
——
this happened on a whim lmfaoooo!! one of his sexiest drives ever so this just had to be written down 😁😁 hope you guys enjoyed 😛
Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader x George Russell
Warnings: smut, pwp, threesome, oral (both m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving, v+a), vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving, sorry not a bisexual threesome), double penetration, unprotected sex, slight degradation and humiliation, Geogre and Lando being soft doms, manhandling you and using you as a toy, chocking, squirting, pet names, alcohol
let me know if i missed anything cause i feel this gets intense
Word count: 9565
AN: this was a long long dream of mine to write ever since i started writing smut, but i was still very shy and uncomfy going this far, but here i am two years later and let me tell you, did this idea escalate. ever since i started writing again on tumblr i decided it will be only if i push my creative limits and boundaries, and this definitely falls under that category. and for that i'm happy i waited to write this cause two years ago i maybe would've given you the most basic story, but that's not how we do it around here in 2026. we are going absolutely borderline nympho insane. anyway, not to make this any more longer, but this will probably flop cause i feel it's too niche, but hey, where my norrussell girlies at? did this for us
You don’t even know how or when did you agree to this. One minute, you were laughing over shots of tequila, playing dirty truth or dare—the next, you were seated on the couch between your two best friends, their hands groping your body.
When you picked truth, the question George asked you was, “What is your biggest sexual fantasy?”
Your face burned as you mumbled the answer, “Threesome, with two guys.”
Lando’s low chuckle vibrated across the table, George and him only exchanging a look.
Now your back arched against the cushions, Lando’s mouth crushing yours, his tongue slick and intense, his hand rubbing high on your inner thigh. George’s lips dragged along your collarbone, his teeth grazing skin before his palm closed over your breast, thumb circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your top. Each of your hands found their way to their thighs, squeezing up and down as it slid, drawing them closer at every new sensation.
Lando’s hand crept higher, fingers splaying possessive and hot, nails scraping lightly at your skin. He bit at your lips—hungry, messy—leaving saliva streaked down your chin. You opened wider for him, couldn’t help a moan, the taste of tequila and lime strong in his mouth, his touch making you tremble. George, all warmth and scratchy stubble and the angry note of vodka on breath, pressed his lips to the exposed line of your neck. He sucked hard at a patch below your ear, moaning when the skin gave way. His hands found the buttons of your shirt, fumbling, impatient, until plastic clicked free and your bra spilled from the cup in his palm.
You gasped as both boys moved in, two mouths—Lando wet and open at your mouth, George’s tongue dragging a hot trail down your throat and collarbone. Their hands overlapped on your ribs, sliding your shirt down and leaving you naked from the waist up. The sight of them through your hooded eyes—your best friends, both grinning and hungry—undid you.
Lando’s hand kept climbing, grazed the elastic at your hip and slipped fingers beneath. He pulled away from your mouth, looking down with a feral, incredulous grin to confirm what he just felt on the tips of his digits. “George, look at this. She’s soaked right through.” His voice was half-shocked, half-mocking pride, as if you’d surpassed some threshold by simply wanting this—by being so turned on, so ready for them.
George made a sound low in his chest and let your nipple fall from his mouth with an audible pop. “Jesus, she is,” he said, his tone a mix of reverence and filthy amusement. He ran his thumb across the slick skin, then pinched, just enough to make you arch further, to force another gasp from your lips. He went back to your nipple, lapped it with the flat of his tongue, then drew it in fully, sucking hard, teeth teasing at the swollen bud. Each pull pulsed straight down, tightening the ache between your legs.
Lando, not to be outdone, worked your shorts down, peeled them slow over your thighs as if unwrapping a present he’d waited years to open. Cold air shocked your skin and you almost squirmed off the couch. When the fabric caught at your knees, he yanked it the rest of the way, then spread your legs wide, palms rough at the crooks of your knees, anchoring you open.
He let his fingers hover, the gesture more obscene than any touch. “Pretty,” he murmured, and your cheeks caught fire, but you couldn’t look away. He knelt on the carpet, lips sliding between your thighs, breaths so warm it made you shiver.
George tugged your hips closer to the edge of the couch, trapping you between their bodies.
Lando traced his tongue up the inside of your thigh, pausing centimeters away from the drenched cotton that barely concealed you. “You want your friends to see how wet you get, huh?” His breath made your nerves tingle, every muscle in your body wound tight, as if you were strung together by a single trembling thread.
You meant to say something cocky—some half-witty, tequila-fueled retort—but George’s palm cupped your breast again with so much reverence that all you managed was a whimper. He chuckled, stroking the back of his knuckles under your jaw, brushing sweat-slick hair off your face.
His eyes glittered with something proprietary as he bent to whisper, “You’re being such a good girl for us.” The slap of shame and pride at that phrase went straight to the pit of your belly.
Lando hooked two fingers in the seam of your panties and instead of pushing them to the side like you expected, he drew slow, lazy circles with the pad of his thumb over your slit. The friction drove you a little insane; you bucked against his hand and he laughed, the sound wicked and light. His tongue licked a hot stripe over the damp gusset, teasing you through the thin fabric.
“Let’s see what you’re hiding,” he murmured and then finally tore the panties from your hips, casting them somewhere behind his shoulder.
Nothing prepared you for the shock of his mouth. Lando’s tongue flattened against your clit, pressure building until your eyes rolled back. You dug nails into his hair, anchoring yourself to reality as he worked you over—sometimes gentle, sometimes relentless, always reading you with terrifying precision. George, not to be ignored, let his teeth scrape little circles around your nipples until they peaked hard and flushed. He hummed—whether in approval or hunger or just the pleasure of listening to you, you didn’t know—and pushed your thigh open wider, his palm broad and rough against your skin.
The world dissolved to wet heat, the air thick with salt and the tang of sex that was just beginning. The only sounds were the wet, filthy noises of Lando’s mouth and the low rumble of George’s voice as he talked to you. “You like that?” He whispered, the vibration of his words against your tits electric. “God, you look so pretty getting eaten out.”
In your periphery, you saw his free hand trace lazy circles at the waistband of his jeans, clearly hard, clearly enjoying every second of you falling apart beneath them. You wanted to taste him—wanted it fiercely—so you reached down, palm seeking the heavy outline under his jeans. You earned a sharp inhale from him and squeezed, feeling him grow even harder, if that was even possible.
George’s lips left your boobs with a wet smack and he bit his lower lip as he locked eyes with you, his pupils black and blown out. “Christ, you’re greedy,” he groaned, pushing your hand hard against his cock, grinding into your palm.
Lando’s rhythm changed, tongue flicking fast and then swirling soft, keeping you teetering on the edge, but never letting you fall. A sob caught in your throat—half frustration, half pure pleasure.
He added fingers, two at once, no warning, and the shock of it rammed through you so hard you bucked straight off the couch and almost bit George’s lip when he swooped in to claim your mouth. His lips were warm and brutally thorough—he kissed like he didn’t just want to taste you, but to consume every whimper you made. You could feel him grinning when your hips jerked, when you moaned into his tongue.
Lando curled his fingers and set a rhythm, wet and obscene, the slap-slick noises of it making your ears burn. His goatee grated against your inner thigh as he groaned into you, pressure and release timed with the messy tangle of your mouth and George’s. Your head swam with the liquor, the ache, the slow grind of George’s hips against yours.
George tiled your chin and bit your jaw, lips smooth with spit and laughter. “She tastes ridiculous, Lando,” he said and you wanted to die—or maybe to be ruined, to be stretched until nothing in you would ever fit right again.
Lando looked up, his mouth slippery and unbothered, voice mocking gentle. “Yeah? Bet you’d trade places with me if you could.” He punctuated it by twisting his fingers and latching his tongue to your clit and for the first time in your life, you screamed, flat-out, voice hoarse and desperate. The boys laughed, both of them, delighted with each other and themselves.
George wiped your mouth with the back of his hand and leaned in, breath hot in your ear. “Go on, babe. Show him.” He slipped a hand up to tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to hold you steady, and kissed you like he meant to leave a bruise inside your mouth.
Lando didn’t let up. He hummed and the vibration tumbled through your entire nervous system, the edge crumbling out from under your feet in a rush so intense it blanked the world to bright white. You came hard, clawing at George’s back, mouth half-open, but all the sound swallowed by George, lost in his throat. Lando moaned into you, drinking everything you gave up, like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted.
You’d barely had time to suck air when George pressed his thumb into your cheek, smearing spit and tears, saying, “God, you’re gorgeous when you fall apart.” He kissed the pulse at your throat, slow and possessive, and you shuddered, limp and molten across the couch.
Lando wiped his mouth obscenely with the back of his hand, beaming like sunrise. He crawled up your body, big hands bracketing your hips, and dragged his teeth down your sternum to the spot where George’s hickeys bled red on your skin. “You still with us?” His tone was soft, but the gleam in his eyes was anything but.
You managed a nod, too stunned, too proud, to say anything that wasn’t a helpless plea.
George stroked your temple, his fingers sweeping the sweat-slick mess from your cheekbone. “There you go, take a breath.” He said it more like a command, not a kindness.
You managed to gasp once, maybe twice, then they were yanking you up by the arms, not exactly gentle, and off the couch. Your legs gave, but they didn’t care. Lando held your elbow tight, George braced your ribs, and together they manhandled you onto the carpet, knees scraping on the cheap, scratchy pile. The air felt arctic against your spit-wet skin. You blinked up at them, stunned into silence. Both were towering over you, eyes black with hunger, hands already at their waists.
Lando grinned—wolf, tease, ringmaster. “Let’s see if that mouth of yours is as greedy as the rest.”
He popped the button of his pants, dragged the zipper and boxers down in one easy move, cock springing free, almost brushing your nose. You blinked again, lips moist, already parted.
George followed suit, slower, making a show of slipping his belt, letting the leather hiss through denim loops before shoving both jeans and boxers down. His cock was just as hard, just as flushed, tip beading. The sight—both of them, thick and ready—sent a new shockwave through your ribs.
George cupped your jaw, thumb tapping the hinge until you opened wider, a well-trained pet. “Open up, gorgeous,” he said, voice a caress, a threat.
Lando nudged close, his cockhead hot and insistent against your bottom lip. You swallowed around the nerves, the ache, the leftover tremors of your last orgasm, and let him guide the tip into your mouth. Salty, skin-hot, already leaking on your tongue. You licked up the shaft, kissed back the base, just like you’d always wanted, but never admitted out loud. George watched, eyes wild, mouth crooked in a half-smile. He fisted himself, slow and relentless, pumping to the pace of your tongue’s work. Lando buried both hands in your hair and drew your head steady, rolling his hips, shallow thrusts, so careful at first, but growing rough as your lips got slicker. The back of your throat caught him with every advance.
When you gagged, he moaned, jaw tight. “Shit, you’re fucking filthy,” he said. “Never pegged you for a cock slut.”
The word fell from his mouth in stereo—George echoed it, but with a different tilt, almost adoration. “You’re beautiful, you know that? On your knees for us. Mouth full.” He leaned in close, feeding the words into your ear so only you could hear them. “Could’ve had anyone, but you wanted us. Been thinking about it for years, haven’t you?”
You tried to nod, but Lando’s cock made it impossible. He pulled free, smearing spit from chin to cheek, and tapped your face as if to say good girl, you did well. “Got another one for you,” he said, stepping aside.
George immediately lined up, less showy, more ceremonial. When you opened your mouth for him, he held your jaw steady with a palm so firm it made your scalp tingle. The head of his cock brushed your tongue and you sucked him in, slow, luxuriating in the feel of it, the velvet-tight stretch at your lips. His taste was overwhelmingly male—salt, skin, a flick of vodka.
His eyes never left yours. “That’s it,” he said, voice low, all the humor gone—just hunger, pacing every word. “Fuck, you take cock like you’re born for it.”
You swirled your tongue just under the crown and he hissed, thrusting just a bit deeper. You flattened your palms on his thighs to brace yourself, needing anchor. Lando watched from behind, silent, but you could feel him: the weight of his stare, the heat radiating from his skin, the urgent grip of his hand at the nape of your neck. George pulled back, pressed forward again, giving you just enough air to ache for more. “She’s got a perfect mouth. Feels like velvet.”
Lando dropped to his knees beside you, fingers tight in your hair. “Bet she could take both.”
His voice was a feral little dare. Your own moan vibrated around George’s cock: the idea of it, two at once, the way the thought alone left you hollowed and needy. Lando moved in, the blunt head of his cock bumping against your cheek, painting your skin with pre-cum.
“Want it?” He asked. The shape of him, the threat and promise, made you nod as much as George’s hand would allow. “Greedy fucking slut.”
He coaxed your head to the side and you opened, tongue already trembling, mouth slack and greedy. Both cocks pressed in, George at the front of your mouth, Lando inching along the side, the hot, heavy, slide of skin and salt and pleasured groans filling your ears. The stretch was impossible, then perfect, spit slicking the seam as Lando guided you to take more, his voice guttural: “Fucking hell, she’s even better than I thought.”
The sounds—yours, theirs, the desperate wet slap—filled the room, the air thick with a need so old it felt mythic. Hands in your hair and on your jaw, their hips setting the rhythm, using you as if they’d rehearsed it. You gagged a little, tears blurring your vision, but the reward was in their shuddered moans, the filthy praise that spilled from both mouths.
“My turn, pretty girl,” Lando said and George yielded just a little, letting his friend fuck deeper, hips stuttering as he lost finesse to raw need. He used your hair as the perfect lever, holding you open, face a mess of spit and tears.
George, ever the contrast, wiped your cheek with his thumb and whispered, “Taking it so well. You’re such a mess for us.”
You let the words wash over you, everything inside hot and thready and close to breaking. The taste of them mingled on your tongue, bitter and sweet, heady, the two of them together a chemical overdose.
The moment they eased up, both cocks glistening and wet, your chin slicked with spit and strings of pre-cum, your arousal throbbed at the edge of pain. You gasped for air, dizzy, almost cross-eyed, but the boys manhandled you with dazed efficiency—lifting you at the underarms, spinning you onto the couch, planting your knees on the cushions, shoving your ass high. George’s hands bracketed your hips, bruising, steady, possessive. Lando patted your hair, fingers combing out what they’d tangled, and sat in front of you, his cock an inch from your lips, grinning like a devil.
“There you go, fuck, look at you.” His voice rumbled, soft and cruel, as he wiped your spit-streaked face with his thumb, then aimed himself at your mouth again. You opened, obedient, as George’s cock prodded between your legs. The sensation left you wild, every nerve ending newly raw, as if the world had been torn open and you were the only real thing left in it.
George pushed in slow, deliberate, stretching you wide, the head burning at the tight entrance, then popping inside you nearly screamed at how full you felt. “You fucking ready for me?” He grunted, voice thick.
You nodded, as much as you could with Lando’s cock blocking most of your airway. The best you could manage was a choked sound, some vowel trapped like a sob.
Lando gripped your skull in both hands, holding you fixed while he eased forward, filling your mouth, muttering, “Keep her nice and wet for me when I fuck her next. Make her drool for it.”
George’s thrusts set the rhythm. Hard, insistent, ramming you against the couch so your jaw nearly dislocated swallowing Lando. Each stroke made your brain blank, replaced with the bone-rattle of George’s hips, then the conquest of Lando’s cock at your tongue. You gagged, spit flooding your mouth, drool running down your chin, and Lando just moaned, “That’s my girl, take it, take it.”
He held you until you couldn’t breathe, until your throat spasmed uselessly around him and tears ran, hot and humiliating, down your cheeks. Then he’d drag away, just a second, letting you pant, and George would slap your ass, bury himself to the hilt, and the cycle would begin again.
“Jesus, look at how wet you are,” George gasped, voice reverent, hips working meanly. “I barely even have to try. You’re fucking dripping for us.” He hunched over your back, chest pressed hot and damp to your spine, fingers digging deeper so your whole body distorted around the force, his rhythm fast and cruel. You could taste your pulse in the roof of your mouth, feel every slip and jerk of skin against the back of your throat.
Lando’s voice was so close to your ear you could smell the tequila ghosting off his tongue. “Get this cock nice and wet for you, princess,” he said, as if you were doing him a favor. He fucking loved it, you could tell—he liked watching you struggle, liked the way you choked and shuddered, every reaction flipping something inside him.
He prodded your jaw until you took him deeper, so the hot, salty tang of him hit your sinuses, made your eyes water. George’s pace never relented. He rutted you and every thrust pushed your whole body forward, spit sliding down the corners of your lips and onto Lando’s shaft, pooling at your collarbones.
“She’s drooling for it,” Lando said, cackling. “Bet her mouth is numb.”
“Don’t care,” George panted. “Feels fucking incredible. She can take it, can’t you, baby?” He punctuated it with a slap to your thigh, and you nodded, frantic and ragdoll loose, drool hanging from your chin.
Lando pulled out, string of spit stretching from your lips to his cock. He stroked himself, slow and mean, smearing your saliva around the head with theatrical, exaggerated circles. “Open up,” he said, voice gravel and velvet at the same time. He pressed the weight of his balls to your tongue and groaned, tensing as you licked and sucked, desperate to impress even through the haze of oxygen deprivation and pleasure. Your jaw ached, but you wanted more, you wanted to be ruined for anyone else.
“Look at her go,” George said, leaning over you. His sweat tickled your back as he bent, wrapped a hand around your neck—not choking, but holding, guiding, underlining every second by making it clear you weren’t going anywhere. “She loves this. She loves getting used.”
You did. That was the worst part. You loved it more than you’d ever imagined. Being between them, being their toy, existing only to be filled and stretched and worshipped by these two beautiful, ridiculous, filthy boys.
Lando tugged your hair until you looked up and made eye contact, his cock pressed to your nose. “You gonna suck these, sweetheart?” he said, nestling his balls to your mouth, a dare in every syllable. You took them in, tongue clumsy and greedy, the smell of him intoxicating. He groaned, low and private, and for a second you realized he was trembling. Not just you losing control—but both of them, hairline cracked by the need you provoked.
George’s thrusts grew erratic, losing discipline. He flattened you over the couch back, holding your ass spread with hungry hands. “This cock’s not gonna last much longer if we don’t switch soon,” he gritted, the words falling hot on your spine.
Lando shoved you back, almost gentle, and pulled out, your mouth clenching on empty space that stung with want. He stood, looming, then gave George a pointed look, “Let’s do it then.”
George grinned and, in a blur, took Lando’s place on the couch. You ended up facing him, arms shaking as you tried to prop yourself up from where Lando had left you. George grabbed you by the shoulders, drew you into his lap. He brushed damp hair from your forehead, the touch weirdly sweet. You almost collapsed against him—the only solid thing in a room spinning on its own axis.
Lando circled around, hands tracing down your lower back, ultimately bracing on your hips, spreading you from behind. You felt his cock nudging the slick, aching mess between your legs. He didn’t push in. Instead, he ran a hand along your folds, dipping inside and making a show of wet, squelching sound as he opened you.
“Didn’t think you could get wetter,” he snickered, something gleaming in his voice. He used his thumb to tap at your clit, a featherlight, infuriating touch. The sensation ripped a shudder up your spine.
George’s mouth caught yours in the moment, tongue greedy, pulling every moan out through your teeth. One of his hands found your knee, squeezed until it almost hurt, the other pressed flat between your shoulder blades to hold you upright for Lando.
The tip of Lando’s cock glided along your slit and you couldn’t help it: you rocked back, desperate, trying to get him to just goddamn fuck you already. He chuckled right into your neck. “Don’t get needy, sweetheart, you’ll get what you want.”
He lined up, pressed slow at the opening, a promise stretch between seconds—then slammed home a few centimeters, enough to pop inside, and waited, letting the heat rip through you. He was thicker than George, but no less small, and the slow build made you want to sob, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek instead. Your body stretched around him, skin prickling as he retreated, drove forward, deeper this time. “There you go,” he crooned. “Take all of it.”
George’s hand slid up to your throat, a gentle grip—reminder you were held, anchored, never falling. You didn’t realize your hands had found George’s cock until you felt the hot, thick length in your palm. You stroked him slow, marveling at how he twitched in your fist every time Lando bottomed out. With your other hand, you played at his balls, rolling them, delighting in the shudder his whole body gave in response.
Lando pistoned faster, the wet sounds of him fucking in and out of you louder than any porn. He used one hand to spread your ass, the other to press at your lower back, arching you for better leverage. The angle stretched you further, took him deeper, made every thrust throb with pleasure so sharp it almost hurt. “Jesus, you’re tight,” he groaned. “Like a fucking vice. Unreal.”
You barely heard him over your own pulse, the slurping, splatter-wet sounds that would haunt your every fantasy from here on out. Your vision static—spangly white, every muscle in your thighs trembling so hard you thought you might vibrate apart.
George’s free hand found yours and brought it to his cock, wrapping your fist around the flushed, pulsing length. “Stroke it for me,” he whispered, almost gentle. You did, and he shivered, leaned in so close you felt his breath on your tongue.
They started talking over you again—about you, not to you—which only made you hotter. “Look at her, Lando. Fucking mess already,” George said, pride all over his face. He squeezed your throat a little, just the pressure, no air restriction, but enough that every nerve ending on your skin snapped taut, waiting for whatever came next.
Lando laughed, pure joy and mean delight, fucking you in slow, grinding thrusts. “Can’t get enough, can she?”
George made you look at him, tilted your chin so your noses almost touched. He looked so serious, for a second, it nearly sobered you. “Doesn’t she feel heavenly, Lando?” His voice cracked a little on heavenly, and you pulsed around Lando at the sound.
Lando groaned, his pace stuttering. “Best I ever had.”
“Fuck,” George breathed. “She’s close to making me cum again.”
“Not yet.” Lando thrust deep and froze, his cock pulsing, making you burn and writhe. He pressed a palm flat between your shoulder blades to keep you from wriggling away. “Not until she’s on top. Pretty thing deserves a show.”
He pulled out abrupt, leaving you empty and violently wanting. You cried out at the loss, body rifling for friction. Lando didn’t even give you time to process. He smeared his hand down your back, palm curling around your ribs, and muscled you around so you landed splayed across the couch. The cushions stank gloriously of sweat, vodka, the humid chemical of your own desire. Lando sat down hard, legs spread, cock bobbing obscenely in his fist. He dragged you by the hips so you straddled him, knees on the bitter synthetic of the cushion, cunt hovering over the mottled red head of his dick.
He grinned up at you, still catching his breath. “Ride me,” he said. Not a suggestion. A command, pitched low and private. He spat in his palm and stroked himself, eyes locked on the mess between your legs. “Let’s see if you can wear me out.”
Arms shaking, you braced on his shoulders. You could smell yourself on him, could feel the sticky, primal heat coating every inch of your skin. You lined him up to your entrance and, slow so you could feel every catching millimeter, sank down. Full. Stuffed. Perfect. The angle was new, sharper, and the pressure at your clit made your vision star-and-static again.
Lando’s eyes rolled back in his skull for a second before snapping back down to the present, pupils blown wide almost making his eyes entirely black. You bounced tentatively, still shaky, muscles rubbery with aftershock, but desperate for more, grinding your hips in small, testing circles. The base of his cock nudged parts of you that had never been reached—not like this, not from this angle. You gasped and held tighter to his shoulders, nails biting down to keep from falling over.
For a moment, all you did was ride him. Up and down, in little rock-and-grind stutters; every slide dragged sweet against your clit, every rut pressed heat up your spine. Your hair stuck to your cheeks, sweat pooling under your tits where they bounced wild and uncontained. He never broke eye contact, not once, just watched you with that lazy, wowed grin, as if the entire universe had always conspired to bring you here, naked and fucked open in his lap.
You leaned forward, dragged your tongue up the side of his throat like you’d seen animals do in documentaries, searching for salt, for something to bite down on. You bit his earlobe, sucked it into your mouth, and his groan nearly made you cum again. The air was thick with ozone and spit and primal, glassy-eyed want.
George, left idle for too long, watched with almost academic hunger. His cock still stood, flushed and leaking, and you ached to reach for him, but this time he didn’t rush you. It was the only favor he’d done all night—let you focus on the stretch, the grind, the heady pop of sensation Lando offered with every upstroke. For now, George only squeezed your hip in encouragement, lazily stroking himself. “You look so fucking good,” he said, like it was a secret he’d kept just for this moment.
You rode harder, desperate to wring every atom of pleasure out of Lando before your thighs inevitably gave. Each time you slammed down, the slap of skin echoed, wet and obscene, and Lando’s hands, huge and sure, locked around your waist, controlling the descent, drawing you down harder, deeper.
But it wasn’t enough—he wanted more, you could feel it in the way his hips bucked up to meet you. He steadied you with a grip that bordered tender, then slipped his palms under your ass, cupping, kneading, using you as leverage. With a measured grunt, he lifted you off him, just the tip left in. “Is that all you can do?” he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.
With a single smooth motion, he braced his feet against the floor and drove up into you with all the leverage he had. Your vision went white again. That was all it took to fuck the air out of your lungs, to make your whole body tense, the climax rippling right under the skin.
You barely had time to register it before Lando set a new pace, fast and brutal, humping up from below, pounding into you in relentless, battering strokes. The couch groaned in protest. The sound of it—raw, vulgar—combined with the feeling of fullness, the force of it, everything condensed into sensory static.
“Fuck, princess, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, princess—” He squeezed your hips, knuckles blanching, struggling to hold back. You rode him, harder, throat working with every desperate gasp. Lando’s cock felt like it might rip you in two, but you didn’t want to stop, never wanted to leave this body-locked orbit. Sweat dripped down your neck, every muscle burning, body rewired around the single mission of taking, grinding, making him lose all control.
You slammed all the way down, impaling until skin hit skin and it shook something loose in you. Lando’s eyes were locked on yours, wild and shining, and right before you shattered again he wrenched your hips down, shuddered, and moaned out a messy curse through his teeth. “Almost—can you—fuck—” He grit down, jaw clenched, fighting the urge to blow right then and there.
He panted, drew you down, and kissed you—feral, sloppy, biting at your lips, the taste of sweat and salt and sex everywhere. Slowly, he rocked you—once, twice, each time deeper, as if he wanted to fold you around his cock and wear you forever.
Time dissolved. Seconds or centuries later, you barely realized you were still sitting on him, wrung out, his cock still buried, both of you shaking. Lando held you steady, squeezing your waist for the tremors to pass. He looked over your shoulder and his grin went lazy and mean. “Oi, George. You just gonna watch or you gonna join?”
It was all it took. George abandoned the arm of the couch, standing, his cock out and proud and glistening with the leftover mess from you. He circled around languid, flexing his hand as if testing his grip. He knelt behind you, broad palm sliding up your thigh—higher, until it cupped your ass, both hands spreading your cheeks wide. He took a moment to drink in the sight of you, stretched taut around Lando’s cock, his balls glistening with your slickness. The image ignited something primal within him and he relished the view of you, fully claimed, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
“Think she could handle both?” George asked, the words thrill and dare in your ears.
Lando’s answer was a sound, more growl than word, as he felt you clench at the proposition. You were definitely up for it, he could sense it, quite literally. “Huh, baby, think you can take two big cocks in each hole?”
You nodded eagerly, but Lando grabbed your throat and squeezed as a reprimand, eyes evergreen. “Use your words, you’re a big girl.”
You gulped, and said, voice a little bit shaky in the beginning, but growing with confidence at each word. “Yes. I want both of your cocks inside me. I want you to fill my every hole.”
“Greedy little slut, wants all the cock,” Lando chuckled menacingly and released his grip. You gasped for air, maybe because you couldn’t take a breath for a minute or two, maybe because the excitement and anticipation of getting double penetrated were knocking all oxygen from your lungs.
You felt George’s heat as he leaned closer, his chest hot and sticky against your back. He slid two fingers down the crack of your ass, pressing gently against your asshole. He spat right on the tight ring, thumb working the spit in slow, practiced circles.
The spit was cold at first, then warm as his fingers massaged it, teasing you. He pressed, pulled away, pressed again, slower, gentler, not pushing in, just coaxing. It felt filthy and perfect, a new kind of friction. Every nerve ending lit up again, like you hadn’t just gotten off twice. You shuddered and pressed your cheek to Lando’s shoulder, the sweat on his skin cold and sweet against your tongue. All the while, your cunt gripped Lando so hard it felt like you’d never get him out of you, and that—God, that—made you rock harder, clenching, grinding down like you could wring some new sensation from the friction alone.
George laughed delightfully behind you. He pressed both hands to your ass and spread you open, thumbs pressing hard until your skin ached with stretch. You waited for him to spit again, but instead there was the shock of wet heat—his tongue, pointed and flexing, lapping at the seam with greedy, filthy precision.
At first, it caught you off guard. Embarrassment flared, but it died somewhere in your lower belly. George was loose and deliberate, licking your asshole in hungry, slow drags. He moaned as he did it and the vibration sent shocks up your spine. The sound rooted itself in you, made you feel strange and perfect and disgusting in a way that was instantly addictive.
You tried to say something, but Lando filled your mouth with his thumb, mashing it between your teeth so all you could muster was a grunt. He watched your reactions, grinning wide, as he braced his feet on either side of your knees and started to fuck up into you again, little controlled lifts that made you bounce, made George’s tongue dig deeper.
George parted your cheeks until it hurt, buried his face, lapping you with such focus that you thought you might black out. The mixture of Lando inside you and George’s tongue fucking circles around the rim—you could barely catch a breath. When George finally slid a finger in, it was easy, almost a relief. The spit slicked you, let him twist and hook inside until you felt impossibly, shamefully full.
He didn’t stop at one finger. He worked you open with the same patience a person would use to pick a lock: first one, then the slow introduction of a second, rotating them, stroking the inside, massaging you until you were desperate for anything more. Lando twisted your nipples as he watched you fall apart, the pain sharp, but fleeting, a flash bulb in the mess of heat George was building.
The stretch got easier, the ache turned sweet. George licked you as he fingered you, pushing his tongue wherever his fingers didn’t reach. You lost count of the times you clenched, the times you tried to pull away, only for George to hold you steady, tongue and fingers working in lockstep until the nerves in your asshole felt as raw and exposed as your clit.
Lando never relented. He held you by the hips and guided you down, working his cock deep on each thrust, his breath ragged in your ear. He was watching George and you and himself all at once, a loop of pleasure and exhibition that made the world tighten in on itself, the anticipation a living thing beneath your skin.
George finally stood, rubbing his spit-coated fingers together, absentminded and casual, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. He planted a knee beside your hip, cock standing proud, eyes flicking down to the pucker now shining with his saliva. The pressure of his gaze alone made it clench, as if in invitation. Lando’s cock was still buried to the hilt, stretching you, every muscle trembling as you rode out the aftershocks of your last, shatterproof high.
“Fuck, you’re hungry for it,” George said, thumb circling your asshole. He leaned in, his words a shudder on your neck: “You want to get split open? Let me hear you say it.” The sound of his voice—ruthless, loving, a snarl softened by years of gentle inside-jokes—curled in your stomach.
Your lips barely moved in reply, but he heard it all the same: “Yes, please. Please fuck me, both of you.” The rawness in your voice was its own loosened secret.
Lando’s hands slid to your ribs, holding you steady, as George angled the swollen head of his dick to your spit-slicked hole. The push started slow: just a suggestion, a whisper of promise against skin shocked pink and raw. At first, it burned, a single line of white heat, and you sucked in air expecting pain—only to feel George pull back and press in again, urging your body to open molecule by molecule.
“Relax. You love this, don’t you?” George murmured, and the praise made your body shiver. He spat again, massaging it in with two fingers, then used the other hand to squeeze Lando at the base, steadying the rhythm so you wouldn’t shoot off the couch.
The burn faded to a deep, bruisy fullness, can’t believe this is happening, can’t ever go back. Lando rocked up, his cock sleek and hungry inside your cunt, as George pressed in, slow at first, then with firm, insistent thrusts. Not all the way, not yet, but enough to stretch you into a new shape. The pressure grew, and you whined, the sound thin and animal.
“That’s it, take it. You’re fucking perfect, princess,” Lando gasped, voice ragged, as he felt the resistance of your body squeezed between the two of them.
George groaned, buried his face in your shoulder, then mouthed hot, wet circles against your neck as he punched in a few millimeters deeper. “Jesus, she’s tight. You ever do this before?”
You shook your head, barely able to breathe, the sensation so full it scrambled your brain. You gripped Lando’s forearm, nails carving moons, needing something to anchor you to the planet. George waited, waited, then thrust again, and this time you felt the blunt head slide past the first stubborn ring and in, real, shocking, a sensation that hovered between ecstasy and obliteration. Every inch slid against Lando’s cock, separated by only a whisper of tissue.
George braced both hands at the base of your spine, arms caging your body so you couldn’t retreat. The first few thrusts made you see black around the edges, pain and pleasure both sharp, especially as Lando timed his movements with George’s, so the cocks moved inside you staggered, then together, then apart. The friction—the impossible, swelling fullness—shattered your concept of self down to an open mouth, a pulse, a need. Lando’s breath came harsh and wild, thrumming against your cheek.
“You’re a fucking animal,” he said, fingers carving wounds into your hips. “Who knew you’d take it so good? I’m not even halfway and she’s milking me, George.”
George’s mouth grazed your nape, the salt of your skin hot under his tongue. “She’s a natural. Took her what—ten minutes to get cock-drunk?” His voice was almost gentle, but the weight of his thrusts said otherwise. He flexed and pressed in, deeper, as Lando rocked up to meet him. Every shared motion left your insides bruised and perfect, like the world now only existed in the centimeters between the two of them.
You tried to say a word, maybe their names, maybe just fuck, but every noise drowned in the slap and wet churn of your bodies. Lando crooked a hand to your throat from the front, pulling you into his chest so your head lolled and your mouth hung open in a helpless, wild gasp.
“That’s it. Fucking drool for us.” His laugh was mean and proud and electrified your spine—you could feel spit running down your chin, tears melding with it, too fucked out to care. The pain of your jaw from earlier was nothing next to this pressure, this delirium, the rhythm of their hips slamming you at both ends. George’s cock drove in, then Lando’s, the stretch reversing and doubling, amplifying.
“Wish there was another cock to fill your mouth hole, huh? Your mouth feel empty, useless, don’t it?” Lando’s words hung in the air like a taunt, his fingers tightening around your throat just enough to make your pulse hammer against his palm.
“Let’s fix that,” his free hand left your hip and rose, two thick fingers pressing against your parted lips before you could even think to close them. He shoved them deep, past your teeth, until the pads hit the back of your tongue. “Suck,” he ordered, voice low and filthy. “Lick and suck like it’s a cock you’re desperate for.”
Your mouth closed around the intrusion on instinct, tongue working over the rough skin, tasting salt and the faint trace of your own earlier arousal. Lando didn’t give you time to adjust—he pumped the fingers in and out in time with the cocks stretching your holes, turning your mouth into another wet, obedient channel. Spit flooded around the digits, dripping down your chin in thick strands that joined the mess already coating your throat and chest.
George’s mouth stayed at your nape, teeth scraping as he drove in harder. “Look at her,” he rasped. “Taking everything we give her. Fingers, cocks, whatever we want to stuff inside her.” His thrusts grew sharper, the head of his cock dragging against the thin wall separating him from Lando’s length. Every forward snap of George’s hips forced Lando’s fingers deeper into your throat until you gagged wetly around them.
Lando’s eyes stayed locked on your face, watching every twitch and tear. “That’s it, drool all over my hand. Show us how empty that pretty mouth really is.” He curled the fingers, pressing down on your tongue, forcing more spit to spill out. The wet sounds from your mouth mixed with the obscene slap of skin on skin as both men fucked into you without mercy.
Your body rocked between them, helpless, every hole filled or claimed. George’s grip on your spine tightened, keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted while Lando’s fingers fucked your mouth in the same staggered rhythm their cocks used on your pussy and ass. The pressure built again, relentless, the stretch and fullness and the taste of Lando’s skin on your tongue pushing you deeper into the haze.
George set his teeth into your shoulder, dragging them just enough to hum under your skin. “Look at you. You’re a fucking sight. Can’t believe what a little slut you are for us,” he choked, words muffled, but clear in meaning. “Knew you’d love this, didn’t we?”
Your body was on fire, nothing but acid and velvet and wet. The tightness was so complete you thought you’d break, not just fracture, but explode open, atomize, and spray the walls with your need. George was pressing you down with such force, your clit dragging over Lando’s pelvis, stimulation in three places at once beyond unbearable. You never knew it could feel this good, it was a miracle you didn’t cum right then and there. You hardly saw anything before you anymore, your eyes taking glimpses of the back of your head and deciding to stay there.
George sped up, then taunted, fingers digging so hard you’d have his fingerprints the next day. “Always thought about this, you filthy fucking thing? Both of us using you, fucking you dumb?”
“Say thank you,” Lando grunted and removed his fingers followed by a string of fat saliva.
Your body tried to say it, tried to do anything, but the only sound you made was a hoarse, barking moans.
“Look at her, fucked out of her mind, can’t even form a sentence, such a brat,” George grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, teeth nipping on the delicate curve of your neck as meanly as his words.
Lando suddenly gripped your hips, stilling all of you. “Hold up,” he panted, his voice hoarse with exertion. “I want to switch. Want to feel her ass.”
George grunted, clearly reluctant, but released you and pulled out with a sound that made your body clench around empty air. The sudden absence left you hollow, aching more than when you were full.
“Up,” Lando commanded, tapping your thigh. “Turn around, on me. Reverse cowgirl.”
Your muscles protested, trembling from exertion as you clumsily shifted position, straddling Lando facing away from him. His hands guided your hips, pulling you back against his chest. The position left you feeling exposed, vulnerable as Lando’s cock pressed against your entrance.
“Ease back,” he instructed, one hand spreading your cheek while the other guided himself to your asshole. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”
You sank down, taking him inch by inch. The stretch burned beautifully, different from before, your body still loose from George’s earlier preparation. Lando groaned appreciatively beneath you, his breath hot against your neck.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed. “Even after George. Perfect little hole.”
You expected to feel George lining up at your front, his cock ready to fill your pussy, but instead felt his hands on your thighs, pushing them wider. The carpet scraped as he knelt between your and Lando’s spread legs, his face level with your dripping core.
“What are you doing?” Lando asked, genuine surprise in his voice as George leaned in and swiped his tongue along your slit.
George pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Couldn’t help myself,” he said, voice husky. “I’m fucking jealous you got to taste her first.”
Lando chuckled, the vibration running through his chest and into your back. “Greedy bastard. Thought you wanted to fuck her pussy.”
“Plenty of time for that,” George replied before diving back in, his tongue delving deep.
The sensation made you gasp, head falling back against Lando’s shoulder. Two different pleasures assaulted you at once—the thick fullness in your ass and the wet heat of George’s mouth on your pussy. It was too much, not enough, everything.
“Fuck, look at you taking it,” Lando murmured, his hand roaming your body. “Both holes being used. You love this, don’t you?”
You could only nod, words beyond capabilities. George’s tongue swirled around your clit, building pressure that made your thighs tremble. Lando’s cock pulsed inside you, hitting spots that made you see stars.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” George said, pulling back to speak. “Been thinking about this for ages. How sweet you’d be.”
Lando thrust upward, making you cry out. “You’re not the only one who’s been fantasizing. Couldn’t stop thinking about this ass after that beach trip last summer.”
The memory flashed through your mind—you bending over to pick up a beach ball, Lando’s gaze hot on your backside. Had he been imagining this then?
George’s fingers joined his mouth, two fingers slipping inside your pussy while his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit. The stretch of Lando in your ass and George’s fingers curling forward made your body feel like it was splitting open in the best possible way.
“Found it,” George murmured against you, his fingertips pressing against that spongy spot inside. “Fuck, she’s got such a sensitive spot right here.”
Lando held your hips still, his cock buried deep, as George’s fingers began to piston in and out. The squelch was obscene, loud enough to echo off the walls of the apartment. You couldn’t think, couldn’t form coherent thoughts, could only feel the dual penetration turning your insides to liquid fire.
“Look at you taking both so well,” Lando said, his voice strained. “Our little cockslut, can’t get enough.”
George increased his pace, his fingers hitting that spot with every thrust while his thumb circled your clit. “You like having two holes filled? Like being stuffed full of cock and fingers?”
The pressure built impossibly fast, your body wound so tight you thought you might snap. George’s fingers curled, pressing harder against that spot, and something shifted inside you—a different kind of pleasure, deeper, more urgent.
“Think she might—” George’s words cut off as he felt the change in your body, your walls clenching around his fingers in rhythmic pulses.
“Fuck, is she gonna—” Lando’s question hung in the air as George pulled his mouth away from your clit and focused his attention on that spot inside, fingers moving faster.
“Gonna make her squirt,” George announced, a feral grin in his voice. “Watch this.”
You barely had time to process his words before the pressure broke. George pressed hard against that spot, his fingers curled, and your body arched violently. A gush of warm liquid flooded over his hand, soaking his fingers, his wrist, dripping down onto Lando’s thighs beneath you.
“Holy shit,” Lando breathed, feeling the wet heat against his skin. “She’s squirting.”
George didn’t let up, his fingers continuing to work that spot, coaxing out wave after wave. “Look at that,” he said, voice filled with wonder and pride. “Never seen anyone squirt this much. You’re a fucking fountain, baby.”
The sensation was unlike anything you’d experienced before—not quite an orgasm, but something more primal, more uncontrollable. Your body kept releasing, your thighs trembling violently as George milked every last drop from you.
“Beautiful,” Lando whispered, his hands gentling on your hips. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”
When the last tremor passed, your body went limp against Lando’s chest, boneless and spent. But George wasn’t done with you yet.
“Now,” he said, withdrawing his fingers with a slick sound, “it’s my turn to feel that tight pussy again.”
You felt him shift position, his cock nudging against your entrance, still wet from your release. The head pressed forward, stretching you around him while Lando remained buried in your ass.
“Double stuffed again,” Lando groaned, feeling George push in from the front.
“Fuck me,” George grunted, sliding deeper, “she’s still so tight even after all that.”
You felt like you were being split in half, the two cocks pressing against that thin wall of tissue between them again. The stretch was beyond anything you’d imagined, even though you already felt it all the same—too much, not enough, a burn that blazed through every nerve ending.
“God, she’s so fucking wet,” George moaned, rolling his hips to seat himself fully. “Still dripping from that squirting orgasm. My cock is swimming in it.”
Lando’s hands found your tits, squeezing hard as he began to move beneath you. “Feel that? We’re both inside you now. Taking up every inch of space in your greedy little body.”
The dual sensation was overwhelming—George filling your pussy while Lando stretched your ass. Your muscles clenched involuntarily around both of them, drawing twin groans from the men.
“She’s trying to milk us both at once,” Lando said, voice tight with pleasure. “Fucking insatiable slut.”
George set a punishing pace, driving into your pussy while Lando thrust up into your ass. The opposing rhythms created a maddening friction that made your vision blur at the edges.
“Look at us,” George panted, his breath hot against your neck. “Using every hole you have. This what you dreamed about? This living up to your fantasy?”
You couldn’t answer, couldn’t form words as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity. Your body was nothing but sensation—stretch and fullness and the delicious friction of being so completely filled.
“Think she can handle it?” Lando asked, his fingers digging into your hips. “Think she’ll cum again from this?”
“Bet she will,” George replied, increasing his pace. “She’s been begging for this for years, haven’t you? Our little cock-hungry slut.”
Their words should have humiliated you, but instead they stoked the fire building in your core. You were nothing but a vessel for their pleasure, and somehow that knowledge made everything more intense.
“I can feel your cock through her walls,” Lando told George, wonder in his voice. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
George groaned in response, his thrusts growing erratic. “She’s so fucking tight like this. Double stuffed and still squeezing us.”
Your orgasm approached with terrifying speed, your body wound so tight you thought you might break apart. The dual stimulation, the filthy talk, the feeling of being so thoroughly used—it was all too much.
“That’s it,” Lando encouraged, feeling your muscles clench around him. “Cum on our cocks. Show us what a good slut you are.”
The climax hit you like a freight train, your body seizing as waves of pleasure crashed through you. You screamed, voice raw and broken, as your insides convulsed around both men.
“Fuck, she’s cumming,” George shouted, his rhythm faltering. “Squeezing me so tight.”
Lando held your hips steady, driving up into your spasming body. “Take it all,” he growled. “Take every fucking inch.”
The orgasm seemed to go on forever, each wave more intense than the last. Your body spasmed violently as the climax peaked, every muscle tensed and trembling. The men didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—their rhythm growing more frantic as they chased their own release.
“Fuck, I’m getting close,” Lando growled, his fingers digging bruises into your hips. “She’s squeezing me so tight.”
George grunted in agreement, his thrusts losing their measured pace. “Me too. Not gonna last much longer like this.”
Your oversensitive body couldn’t handle any more stimulation, yet you craved it desperately. The pain-pleasure of being so thoroughly used pushed you toward another edge.
“Gonna cum inside her,” Lando announced, his voice tight with strain.
“Wait,” George gasped, pulling back slightly. “You’d want to see her face when we finish, trust me.”
In one fluid motion, both men withdrew, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, strong hands were manhandling you off the couch and onto the carpet. Your knees hit the rough fibers, the impact jarring through your boneless body.
“Open,” Lando commanded, his cock hovering inches from your face, flushed and slick with your combined fluids.
Your jaw dropped obediently, tongue lolling out as you panted for breath. George positioned himself beside Lando, both of them towering over your kneeling form.
“Look at us when we cum,” George ordered, his hand working furiously along his shaft. “Want to see your pretty eyes.”
Lando matched his rhythm, both of them stroking themselves with desperate urgency. The air filled with their ragged breathing and the wet sounds of their hands on slick flesh.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—” Lando’s words cut off as the first hot spurts hit your tongue. The salty, bitter taste flooded your mouth as he groaned above you.
George followed seconds later, his release painting your cheeks and chin in thick stripes. They continued jerking themselves, mixing their cum on your face, in your open mouth, until every drop was extracted.
“Swallow,” Lando commanded, watching you intently.
You closed your mouth, forcing down the bitter fluid as it coated your throat. The act itself was humiliating, yet somehow made you feel powerful—they had given you this offering, and you accepted it.
“Good girl,” George murmured, tucking himself away. “You took everything we gave you.”
Your body ached in places you hadn’t known could ache. Your knees throbbed against the carpet, your jaw felt unhinged, and between your legs, you were swollen and tender. Yet a deep satisfaction settled in your bones—the fantasy fulfilled beyond anything you had imagined.
Lando crouched before you, tilting your chin up with one finger. “Still with us?”
You nodded, unable to form coherent words, but forced yourself to croak, “Thank you.”
He smiled. His thumb swiped across your cheek, collecting a smear of their combined release.“Beautiful mess,” he said, voice softer now. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”
George extended his hand to help you up, steadying you when your legs threatened to buckle. They guided you to the bathroom, one on each side, their touches gentler now than they had been all night, reminding you friends always helped each other out—even if it was just making sexual fantasies come true.
Pornstar!Rafe who almost makes you break the camera 💦⭐️
He’d have the camera on its tripod, aimed and zoomed right at your dripping hole as he lifted the skirt you had on up. You were sitting in between his thighs, your back leaning against his broad chest as his hand traveled down to your folds. The lens captured the distinctive gold signet ring he wore, his thick digits spreading your pussy lips apart.
“She’s so goddamn wet for me.” His voice spoke, low and raspy as he breathed in your ear. “And so fuckin greedy, huh baby?” He asked, pushing his long middle finger into your soaking hole. You nodded, letting out a small whimper as he pulled it out slowly only to bring two fingers now to dip in. Even with his digits inside you felt full and the camera was recording every delicious second.
“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He spoke, looking at it in the viewfinder as he brought his fingers out to rub your aching clit. He then spread your folds again, the camera getting a close shot of your leaking cream. He would lean his chin over your shoulder, aiming his salvia to spit directly down your body so that it ran down to your already messy hole.
His two digits would slide back in, this time curling up to hit your g-spot. You let out a moan, his thick fingers filling your cunt as he pushed them in and out at a brutal pace. You squirmed, already knowing where this was going and knew you weren’t going to be able to control it. His other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you still as he finger fucked your gushy hole.
It didn’t take much for him to get you to turn into a faucet. He could feel you already clenching around him, the pad of his fingers bruising your sweet spot as he had been with you long enough now to know exactly when you were about to burst. “Rafe! Y- gonna fuckin cum!” You squeaked out, chest heating up and pussy fluttering.
He pulled his fingers out, his hand rubbing your clit back and forth in a rapid motion to watch the fountain of juices squirt out everywhere. He groaned against your neck, slapping your drenched cunt with his massive hand before shoving two fingers in deep again. “She’s only a squirter for me.” His voice clear through the audio as he would proudly tell everyone he’s the one that made you make a mess. “Ain’t that right, angel? Do that shit again.” He spat, feeling you clench around him, only for you to spray the camera lens, letting the video end with an “Oh shit.”
I seen that you are taking requests so I have one for you!. I was thinking you could maybe do something with pornstar!axel and the reader is riding him in reverse cowgirl because that’s really hot 😩
“Slow,” Axel ordered, his voice husky and low. His massive hand curled over your hip to lower you slowly onto his cock while his other hand held his phone steadily. You gripped his knees and let out a low moan.
The reverse position was different than anything you’d ever felt. His cock was deeper and ever slow drag of your hips felt better than the last. Axel’s hand trailed down the side of your thigh, digging deep into your FUCK YOU tattoo etched in your delicious skin. He clenches his jaw and tapped your thigh for you to go faster. You lowered your upper body onto your elbows and gripped the sheets as you bounced your ass a little faster.
“Oh fuck,” Axel gasped and threw his head back against the mountain of pillows keeping him upright. You sweet little moans were music to his ears – and he’s sure that they’ll spur on the audience watching this. You curled your feet around his hips as you shifted between his thighs. “That’s it, sweet girl. Keep going.”
He clapped his hand against your ass and gripped your flesh hard to pull you further down. His cock was nice and wet, along with his tensed and tattooed abdomen. He dug his nails in your skin and grunted low like a hungry animal. “Look at that,” he crooned. “Look at how she fucks my cock like a greedy little whore.”
“Yes daddy, yes daddy,” you mewled, crying out into the sheets when he smacks your other cheek roughly, gripping your flesh and forcing your ass to jiggle. “Mmpphhh!!”
Axel groans and bucks his hips hard into your tightening cunt. His balls smacked wetly against your heated flesh as he only went harder and faster, forcing you further down onto his dick. “Take it. Take it. Take it.” He grunts and huffs as he nearly drops his phone.
You babbled incoherently, spit sliding down your chin as you kept your mouth open to weep pathetically. Axel dragged his nails down your back and grabbed your neck from behind to give you to grind harder on him. He groans and huffs a quiet “mmm” when you reach down and grab his inner thighs, your nails scratching and grabbing him. You heart beats erratically in your ribcage as you gasped and cried out brokenly. Axel stops his movements and props his phone up on the nightstand, making sure his head wasn’t in view.
He props himself up on his elbows and spreads his legs a little wider to fuck up into you much faster. You were caught off guard and let out a high scream from the sudden pace and force. Axel laughs smugly and grins as you fall apart on his dick. He watches your ass bounce and jiggle against his pelvis. He lands a smack to both your ass cheeks, watching your delicate skin turn pink, and then red.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet, huh?” Axel cockily asked. You can barely answer as he fucks you harder. You can feel your guts being rearranged as he slams into your cervix constantly, causing you to lose your breath each time. You let out a drowsy moan as your eyes crossed and rolled back. “Baby doll can’t even speak while she’s on this dick, huh?”
“Hhhnngghhhh,” was all you could utter.
“Fuck this,” Axel grunts and pushes your ass up to sit on his knees as he pushes his cock back inside your dripping and twitching cunt. “There we go.” His abdonmen tensed as he hears his balls smack wetly against your pussy. He threw his head back and let out a drawn out moan. He curled a fist around your matted hair and pulled your head up, forcing your back to arch even more.
“Gonna cum!!” You squealed and hiccuped as you reached one hand down to frantically rub your swollen clit. Axel hums and smacks your ass once more, watching his massive handprint begin to slowly form. You clenched tighter around his cock and sobbed, tears running down your inflamed cheeks as your orgasm hit you like a train. Your pussy contracted around Axel’s cock, your wetness spilling out on his thighs and the bed sheets.
“Oh fuck!” He groans and shoved himself all the way inside, his pelvis crushed against your ass cheeks as he shoots his thick load deep in your walls. You tried to stop your thighs from shaking so much, but it was damn near impossible when you felt his cum fill you up so good. “Oh shit, sweetheart.” Axel breathes heavily and slowly pulls his cock out. The creamy glaze coating every inch of him had him feeling smug. He reaches over and grabs his phone as he pushes you further down into the bed. “Stay down.”
He focus the camera to your pussy and moans in awe as his cock drips out and slides down your trembling thighs. “Fuuucccckkkk,” he sighs. “Push that cum out for me, baby doll.” You whimpered and contracted your pussy as more of his cum slides out. “That’s my good little girl.”
so…breeding kink lando but he’s also a munch and eats his own cum after the creampie? chat do we fw this?🙏
this might be the nastiest piece i've ever done but i fw this mega 😵💫 thank u for req'ing my lovely <3
"gonna make sure you're full of me- take it like a good girl, that's it." he'd praise as he'd spread you wider, one hand between your thighs rubbing small circles against your clit as the other rested at the side of your head. you could feel the sodden sheets beneath you and you were unsure how many times you'd actually cum - completely pliant as your body reacted deliciously to the way he rutted into you, over and over again. his seed from earlier glistened against your stomach, the thick liquid sticky as you groaned at the way his cock massaged your cervix, kissing that sweet spot inside of you as he grunted about how tight you felt around him. the both of you completely oblivious to the time, neither of you wanting to stop and take a break as you kept clenching around him, milking him dry of every last drop he had. and he'd cum again pretty quickly, your walls clenched around him as you dragged one more orgasm from him; his cock twitching inside of you as he whimpered your name over and over, cursing you for being so damn good for him. you'd lean in to kiss him, whimpering as he ducked down, letting his cock drop from you before replacing it with his pointer finger. he'd watch as his cum dripped from you, fingertip scooping some of the glistening liquid before putting it to his lips and sucking gently - moaning at the way he could taste the both of you at the same time, flavours mixing. and you'd audibly gasp as he suckled your clit between his lips, dipping his tongue between his folds as he moaned against you, the vibrations edging you closer to your next orgasm. hands either side of your thighs as he held you in place against his face, not letting you wriggle away as his tongue delved into your hole, tasting the remnants of where he'd been just moments before. lando's voice all muffled as he mumbled about how good you tasted, how pretty you were all laid out for him; his hips jerking against the sheets as he chased another high, his sensitive cock still oozing cum as he devoured you, his tongue working against you.
☆ warnings: references to prev parts so its better if u read, pregnancy, girl dad!lando, exes to lovers, lando trying but struggling, coparenting, nausea, cravings, conflict, lando being kinda whiny and subby, handjob, mentions of oral ⋆ inspo: (x)(x)(x)(x)
⋆ ‧ ⋅ ☾ ‧ ⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ‧ ⋅
there are no more explosive arguments.
you agreed on a plan via text in the morning, a clinical exchange of words that felt more like negotiating terms with a business partner rather than arranging a night with the father of your child.
it was the only way to do it without your daughter sensing the disastrous fallout from forty eight hours ago.
lando: ill bring her back at 6
lando: if i stay and do bedtime she wont ask why im still there before bed. she sleeps and we talk properly
you: ok. dont be late.
he wasn't late.
he was exactly on time, standing on the doormat at four sharp. holding her little overnight bag in one hand and her favourite stuffed animal in the other.
because he doesn't live at the house anymore, his presence during the evening routine isn’t always a given. usually he drops her off, maybe stays for a bedtime story, and then leaves before the domestic reality of the house stings him too hard.
but tonight is different. even your daughter can feel the shift. the tension.
she takes full advantage of it.
dragging her feet through dinner. begging lando to watch her do handstands in the living room. demanding he sits in the bathroom while she splashes bathwater all over both of you.
the awkwardness between the two of you is thick. almost clumsy.
you move around each other like strangers. like this is all somehow new, rather than familiar. trying to avoid a collision in what feels like a crowded space.
you both reach for the towel at the same time to dry her hair. your fingers brush, just a brief instance of warmth.
you both instantly pull back. total detachment.
"sorry." lando mutters, his eyes dropping to the floor tiles.
"it's fine. you do it." you reply, stepping back until your back hits the cold porcelain of the sink.
he doesn't try to use the proximity to flirt. he doesn't drop a cheeky grin or try to catch your eye in the mirror. he looks exhausted. his broad shoulders slightly hunched under his hoodie, consciously holding back his usual restless behaviour.
he knows he’s on trial.
you stand in the doorway and watch him swallow his frustration when she refuses to put her pj top on. you watch his jaw clench as he keeps his voice low and steady while gently talking to her. trying to prove that he can handle once again the less shiny parts of being a father without running away to a debrief meeting.
proving to you maybe, but also to himself.
by eight, upstairs finally goes dark. lando steps out of her bedroom, shutting the door with a slow deliberate click. holding the handle down until the latch slides into place without a sound. desperate to have some uninterrupted quiet. some time with you.
he walks downstairs.
you hear his footsteps. he brings the quietness with him. heavy. almost suffocating. he steps into the kitchen, pulling his hoodie off and remaining in his t shirt.
he's too warm. nervous and anxious.
you’re already sitting at the kitchen table. the dim counter lights are on. your laptop is also on, displaying his race calendar for next year. an intimidating block of black text, right next to a printout of your daughter's school calendar. there's also your diary, filled with personal appointments. work commitments. everything.
he sits in the chair opposite you.
he doesn't look at the papers first, he just looks at your face. his eyes dark, heavy. entirely stripped of the cocky attitude he wears in front of the cameras. in front of anyone, really.
"okay." he says, his voice flat and raspy. "let's look at it."
you point a finger at the laptop screen. but before your finger can trace the calendar, lando clears his throat.
he shifts in his seat, his shoulders tensing up as he tries to sit up straight. he looks down at his clasped hands like he’s rehearsing a speech.
"wait," he murmurs, his voice carrying a stiff sort of hesitation. "before we start… did you think about it? properly? what do you… what do you really want, like in an ideal world?"
you freeze, your finger hovering an inch above the trackpad. you turn your head slowly, staring at him.
in an ideal world.
you let out a short, humorless chuckle. the sound is sharp and ugly in the quiet kitchen. an ideal world. hilarious.
a phrase that doesn't even sit on his tongue. lando norris doesn’t talk about ideal worlds. he talks about cars, golf and sex. he doesn't have the vocabulary for conflict resolution, unless it involves a team radio debrief. you can practically imagine his google search history floating in the space between you. him spending last night in his empty flat reading through some communication guide his therapist would have sent him before a difficult race meeting.
and then, with panic resorting to googling communication skills.
'ask her what she wants in an ideal world to understand her perspective.'
it's so unlike his usual stubborn, defensive language. it almost makes your chest ache with how hard the idiot is trying.
but you're too exhausted.
"an ideal world." you repeat, your voice dropping into a bitter, dry murmur. "hilarious, lando. as if we can just build a fucking miracle out of thin air and have everything we want. as if life is that easy. as if you make life that easy."
"i'm just asking-"
"i want this baby, lan." you cut him off, your voice finally cracking as the truth spills. "in an ideal world, i want this child. i want us to be a family. be fucking normal. but an ideal world doesn't exist, and the reality we actually live in feels completely impossible right now."
he doesn't answer. just continues listening to you.
"baku, singapore, austin, mexico, brazil. you are on the other side of the world for months . i am here by myself, with a child who needs to be dropped at the school in the morning and a newborn who will be waking up every two hours. it feels physically impossible. i cannot do it alone again. i'm terrified."
lando’s posture stiffens.
he's trying. he really is. but you're not really reciprocating any of that. the defensive heat rises into his cheeks. his boyish ego flares up because your terror feels like an attack on your entire relationship history, not just the bad moments. a declaration that his presence is useless.
that he is useless.
"i built this house, you know." he says, his voice dropping into that low, stubborn register he uses when he's backed into a corner. "i pay the mortgage, the school fees, the medical bills, everything. even yours, not just hers. i still pay for it all. i’m trying to provide everything i can so we can make it work. don't sit there and act like i provide nothing to this family."
"money isn't a presence, lando," you hit back, your voice cracking as the old, buried resentment from your marriage begins to leak out. "you think because you send a transaction from fucking tokyo, it means i don't feel lonely? i spent years sitting on that sofa, wanting you here. watching the clock while you choose a sim session or a sponsor dinner over coming home to your wife. i want this family, but i am not doing that again with two of them. it will break me. it already broke us once."
lando snaps, his hands coming out of his pockets and forming into fists on the kitchen table.
"you haven't even listened to what i wanna say, i am trying to give you a solution so you don't have to! look at the summer. three weeks of total shutdown. no factory, no driving. she doesn't have school then. you all fly out. and the european rounds, you fly in friday, you leave sunday. we'll get the jet so you don't have to deal with all that airport hassle with a pram and another child. i'll fly back between midweek sessions. i'll take the red eyes and tiredness. i don't care. i want to be here for it."
it all sounds too good to be true.
"you can't just change your calendar, lando. zak won't care about a fucking pram when he's asking why you're not there yet."
lando leans towards you. his eyes are locked onto yours, desperate and furious.
fuck. his eyes look so pretty under the low light.
"i can make them care. i was still so young when she was born... i was terrified of them. i thought if i missed a marketing day or asked to delay a test, they’d go and find some other karting kid to take my seat. i was a coward. trying to make sure we're secure. safe. but somehow we still didn't fucking survive."
you glance back at him. no words, just teary eyes blinking back at him.
he continues.
"but i’m a champion now. what are the gonna do, fire me? i have the leverage. i can put it in my contract if i need to."
the words hang in the air between you. heavy and bitter. somehow raw.
it's a brutal admission of how the sport works. how his job works. but it stings like hell. it stings because it means the currency to save your marriage was always there. he just didn't have enough courage to make use of it back then. you had to live through the lonely, invisible years of his career climb. handling the burden of the domestic isolation.
this pregnancy might finally gets the version of him that knows how to dictate things on his own terms. his family's terms. but your eyes burn as you look at the black squares on the calendar.
you just can't accept his fantasy.
"leverage doesn't change the time zones. we can't always be there. you'll still be in australia while i'm holding a baby, wishing you were here. leverage doesn't fix the fact that you can't be here on a normal weekend for half of the calendar unless we travel to you. imagine how tired we will all be with all the travelling."
lando lets out a ragged, frustrated sound from the back of his throat. he stands up suddenly, shoving his chair back so hard the legs screech violently against the floor tiles.
the thin control he's held all evening just completely snaps. he paces a short line across the kitchen floor. his hands tremble slightly as he shoves them back into his pockets.
"you're just keeping me at arm's length. you knew i'm a driver before you married me. before you had a kid with me. remember how happy we both were when i got my seat? you wanted this, too. you wanted it all just as much as i did."
you don't answer. his words continue to sting.
"you're letting the fear take over everything. you're punishing me for the last few years because it’s easier than trusting me to actually show up this time. you've got your wall up so fucking high i can't even offer anything without you tearing it down. please, i'm fucking trying and i mean everything i'm saying."
you look down at the table, unable to meet his eyes. the exhaustion of the early pregnancy weeks is also starting to build.
"i'm not punishing you. i'm trying to protect myself from getting hurt again. i'm too tired for this, lan. please just go back to your flat."
lando stops pacing.
he looks at you for a few long seconds. his jaw clenches, his breath slows. he's fighting his ego's urge to throw another defensive line. another justification. another solution. whatever it takes to have you all again.
but he looks at your face. pure tiredness. and he stops.
"goodnight, love you."
lando grabs his car keys off the kitchen counter and walks out.
──── ☆☆☆ 1:30am
you’re still sitting in the exact same spot at the island.
laptop still open, papers still on the table. you're sipping on a warm cup of tea. a personal ritual to soothe yourself. the argument is repeating in your head looping over and over, exposing every raw nerve and unresolved grudge.
a completely ridiculous, desperate craving hits the back of your throat. fuck. vanilla ice cream and peanut butter. that salty sweet necessity, as if it's the only thing that will stop the nausea from taking over completely.
you stand up, legs stiff. you open the pantry. you reach for a cookie and bite into it. but it's not the same. you want ice cream and peanut butter.
you lean your head against the cupboard shelf. a small sob catches in your throat from the sheer frustration of it. god, it's embarassing.
your phone vibrates against the marble counter. the sound feels loud in the dead quiet of the house.
lando: cant sleep. thinking of you x
it’s short. no paragraphs. no pleading.
you stare at the text, your fingers ice cold against the glass screen. you want to tell him you want to make this work. you also want to push him away.
the pride and the fear are both still too heavy. too real.
you: goodnight lando
you set the phone down. your phone doesn't vibrate again..
you assume that’s the end of it. that he’s taken his shoes off. crawled into his bed in his empty flat. about to sleep off the anger.
but lando isn't stupid.
he spent years watching your habits, especially during your first pregnancy. he knows that if you were you're up so late, it's because something is keeping you up. and if you're responding to his texts at this hour, it's because you want him there. right next to you.
but you'd never admit that out loud. especially to him. his stubborn girl.
minutes pass by. 1:40am. 1:50am.
at 1:55am, you hear a low hesitant knock against your front door.
you freeze. heart slamming in your chest, before you stand up and walk towards the window to see who it is.
it's lando.
standing patiently in the damp air. he looks like a mess. a sleepy mess. messy curls, loose shoelaces. in one hand, he's holding a greasy cardboard box. in the other, a crinkling plastic bag.
you open the door, cold air rushing inside.
"lando, it's two in the morning. what are you doing here?"
he looks small. his chest heaving under the cold air, nose slightly red.
"i brought the pizza." he says, his voice raspy and rough.
he lifts the box an inch.
"the one from wednesday. when i messed up. the pizza place still does takeaway at night, so…"
his words scramble into nothing.
he steps past you without waiting for an invitation, setting the pizza box down on the counter in the kitchen. he reaches into the plastic bag, pulling out a large cold tub of vanilla ice cream and a jar of smooth peanut butter.
he sets them down right next to the pizza, his knuckles raw and red from the cold.
"i remembered you used to want this when the sickness got bad or the thoughts got too much. you’d eat the peanut butter right off the spoon. the salt stopped the nausea or some shit."
you blink at him, all silent.
but damn. your eyes light up a bit.
lando notices. he continues.
"i want this, baby. i want you. i really fucking do. and if you want it too, please let me. i… i don't want us to be broken anymore. can i just stay? please. just for a bit."
the anger. the calculated distances. the pride.
it all just thins out into nothing.
it’s just the two of you in a quiet kitchen at two in the morning. exhausted by the weight of your own stubbornness. both of you wanting the same thing but terrified of failing each other again. terrified of failing yourselves again. of failing your children.
"okay. come in." you whisper, your voice still croaky as you pull the door closed and lock it behind him.
you sit at the table. you open the pizza box, the sudden warmth of garlic and dough cutting through the cold air of the room. lando doesn't take the seat opposite you this time. he reaches out and pushes the papers into a disorganised mess at the far end of the table. completely clearing the marble between you.
he drags his chair right next to yours. his thigh press hard against yours, invading your space until you can feel the heat radiating off of him.
he doesn't take a slice of pizza. he just rests his elbow on the table, his chin in his palm. he's quietly watching you as you open the peanut butter jar and the ice cream.
you take a spoonful.
"is it helping?" he murmurs. his voice low, thickened with sleep.
"yeah." you mutter, swallowing down the massive lump in your throat as you mix a spoonful of it directly into the cold ice cream. "don't look at me. i look disgusting."
lando lets out a tiny, breathless sound. halfway between a laugh and a sigh. his eyes crinkle at the corners and he bites his lip.
"you don't." he whispers.
the silence settled between you shifts, losing its sharp and defensive edge. it becomes heavy, familiar. that domestic kind of quiet you used to share before it all got too difficult.
it feels kind. gentle.
without asking for permission, lando drops his head forward. he buries his face directly into the crook of your neck. he feels warm, his shoulders crowding you against the back of the chair. his damp curls are all soft against your bare skin. his arms slide slowly around your waist, his large hands settling firmly over your hips.
"i hate my flat." he whispers against your skin, his voice muffled by your pjs. "it feels like a hotel. no noise. there's nothing. i stay out driving till ten because i don't want to go back there. i don't want to be there alone. i want to be with you again."
you stiffen slightly.
the old, defensive instinct to remind him of his own choices flares up in your chest. but his grip tightens, his fingers anchoring firmly into your soft flesh. holding you. wanting you.
"let me do it, please." he mutters against your throat. he continues.
"the calendar. the flights. i can call tomorrow morning and tell them i need to discuss all this before the new season. we'll figure it all out the weeks, i swear to god, we will. i will. just… don't do any of this alone. let me be there with you. please."
and then, his hand shifts.
his broad palm slides down. flat and grounding against your lower stomach. he presses firmly, his fingers spreading wide. holding you right where your shared love is hidden.
you take in a deep breath, letting out a small sound into the quiet kitchen. your own hand moves down instinctively, your fingers locking tightly over his large knuckles. keeping his palm pressed against your body.
the concentrated comfort of his weight against your back is so unforced. that deliberate gentleness of him sitting here in the dark. just to make sure you can eat the food easily and comfortably. it does something strange to your chest. the heavy anxiety that had been bruising your ribs all night shifts. it melts down into a tight ache at your core.
it's that sudden heat. thick and demanding. sparked by the simple vulnerability of him showing up. being with you. caring for you.
you set the spoon down on the table with a small click.
lando notices the shift instantly. his breath catches slightly against your neck, his fingers tightening against your stomach. but he doesn't look at you, yet.
"hey." he murmurs awkwardly.
his voice a low, almost a question against your skin.
"hey there." you whisper back with a little giggle.
he shifts, his chair scraping softly as he turns his body toward yours. his knees bracket your thighs. his eyes wide and completely blown out in the dim yellow light of the counter.
he looks so raw. lips slightly parted, entirely at the mercy of whatever you decide to do next.
you reach out, your fingers slipping under the collar of his hoodie. your palms slide over his thick, warm neck. then along his bare collarbones. you lean forward until your forehead rests against his.
your breathing gets tangled together in the small space between you.
"you're such a idiot, i swear. driving back here at two in the morning because you knew i couldn't sleep." you murmur softly, your thumb tracing the hard line of his jaw.
he has some stubble. it's cute. a reminder of the time passing. a reminder of the man he grew up to be, right beside you.
"i couldn't sleep either. felt like i was going insane." he whispers, his hands coming up to grip your waist. his thumbs dig into your hips through the cotton of your pjs.
"i know."
you tug onto his hoodie as a little nudge. he understands. he takes it off. not wearing anything underneath. you slide one hand down his bare chest, your palm flat against him. you can feel the heavy thud of his heart. so fucking fast. he's nervous. hesitant to mess things up again.
but he wants you so bad.
you lean in and press your lips to his. the restraint they’ve both been holding all evening just fades. the kiss is deep. heavy and desperate. tasting his affection. lando's hands leave your waist and slide up your back. his fingers tangle gently into your hair, tilting your head towards him to kiss you harder. his tongue slides against yours. hot and demanding. his whole body shifts closer until he is pressed against you.
there's that sheer relief of having your mouth on his again. a sense of hope. belonginess. the touchy, feverish heat between you builds so fast. it feels heavy and impatient. the need to please you takes over his entire brain.
the need to take care of you.
he breaks the kiss for just one ragged breath. he slides off his chair, dropping onto his knees on the cold kitchen floor.
"let me- fuck. let me make you feel good." he rasps, his eyes blown and desperate. his large hands tremble, sliding down from your waist to the waistband of your pj bottoms.
he sits on his knees between your legs. his face is close to your thighs. close to your core. lando is completely desperate to put his mouth on you. to appreciate you.
he wants you as ruined as he is.
but as soon as he moves into your space, the physical reality of the pregnancy hits you. the thick, heavy scent of the pizza. the heat radiating off his skin. the sudden shift in movement. it all triggers the dull discomfort in your stomach.
"lando, wait. stop, baby." you whisper softly. your hand moves down to rest gently against his cheek. your thumb smoothing over his stubble to make him pause before his lips can touch your skin.
lando freezes instantly.
he stays perfectly still on his knees. his hands pulling away from your clothes as if he’s been shocked. he blinks up at you in the dim yellow light. his chest is flushed red, but his face turned entirely pale.
you can see the sudden raw panic in his eyes. he thinks he’s crossed a line. messed it all up and pushed too hard. went from walking on eggshells to ruining the only peace you've given him these past few days.
"i'm sorry, did i- am i hurting you? making you uncomfortable? i didn't mean to-" he stammers, his voice dropping into a small panicked whisper. his hands tremble on his own thighs.
"no no, you're fine. i promise. i'm just feeling a bit sick, lan. too nauseous. don't really wanna be touched… down there. " you murmur, your voice soft and reassuring as you swallow down the wave of nausea. your fingers slide into his curls to give his head a gentle, comforting squeeze.
the relief that washes over his face is almost pathetic. sweet and reassured. but he doesn't move from the floor yet. he stays right there, kneeling between your open thighs. completely at your mercy.
fuck.
it does something to you. looking down at him like this. seeing the world champion on his knees on your kitchen floor. looking up at you with his curls all messy and eyes all blown. it fucks with your brain in the best way possible. your core is aching, suddenly so demanding. you want him so fucking bad, exactly like this.
ruined.
a tiny chuckle escapes your lips. you give his curls another affectionate tug, guiding him up towards his empty chair.
"sit back up, lan." you mumble softly, your hand sliding from his hair down to his shoulders and chest.
lando follows instantly, moving like a needy puppy under your touch. he climbs back onto his chair, dragging it even closer until his knees bracket your thighs completely. locking you into his space.
your hand moves from his hair to his shoulders. then, his chest.
you let your hand travel even lower, tracking the line of his stomach down to his pretty happy trail. until your fingers reach the elastic band of his sweatpants.
the prominent, thick shape of his cock is already straining hard against the fabric. needy and desperate. already pointing toward his belly button. he’s always so easy for you but tonight, it all feels heavier. needier with the weight of everything that happened between you earlier. needier with the hope that things could work again between you.
lando feels like he's going insane.
you don't pull his trousers down. you just slip your hand directly inside his pants. your fingers instantly finding the smooth, burning heat of his cock.
lando lets out a low, ragged groan from the back of his throat. he tries to cover it up by pretending to clear his throat. you notice that, and squeeze his cock harder. gently smiling and teasing him.
his eyes close instantly. his head drops back. his neck is thick and flushed.
"keep it quiet. be good." you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and deliberate.
"fuck. yeah, okay. okay." he rasps, his tanned knuckles turning white where he’s gripping onto you.
your palm cups the heavy weight of his cock. letting him feel the cool contrast of your hand against his own warmth. your fingers curl around the thick length. he’s already leaking. the head of his cock slick and and wet as your thumb strokes over his slit, smearing the precum down the rest of his cock.
you start a slow, heavy rhythm. your grip is firm. sliding all the way from the base of his cock back up to squeeze the head.
his most sensitive spot.
lando’s hips instinctively twitch forward. he bucks into your hand, a desperate little search for friction that you deliberately cut off by slowing down. you want him soft. you want him to become a mess. completely fucked and ruined, stripped of any defenses you've both been holding.
"slow down, i've got you. just feel." you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the pulse point in his neck.
a thin layer of sweat is forming on his skin. the soft scent pulls you deeper into him.
another broken, hitched sound escapes his throat. a needy whine that vibrates right against your lips as you move your mouth up to catch his jaw. that specific, boyish sound he only makes when he’s entirely overwhelmed by you. the sound that no one else ever gets to hear.
the sound of letting go.
"i missed that pretty sound, so fucking much. " you whisper into his ear. your hand tightens around his cock, quickening the pace just enough to make his breath hitch again. "i missed hearing you whine for me, lan."
"oh, fuck. you're- you're doing this on purpose. driving me mad. you're a fucking tease." he stammers, his eyes opening and glazed. he looks so ruined, so gorgeous. his lips wet, his chest heaving. as your hand keeps moving up and down, slow and relentless. teasing his cockhead.
"you deserve it. it feels good, no?"
he instantly nods. so sweet.
your lips catch his into a deep kiss. tasting his tongue. his hands move feverishly. sliding up your back, gripping the fabric of your pjs as if he’s trying to anchor himself.
but his brain is melting.
your hand keeps moving, you grip tightens. your hand is getting soaked with him as you thumb his sweet spot over and over. tracking the heavy pulses of his cock as it strains against his own stomach. so red. so desperate.
he’s right on the edge. you can feel the sudden tension in his thighs. the way he bites on his lips and squeezes his eyes shut. his whole body suddenly feeling too tight.
"keep looking at me, lan." you murmur, pulling back just enough so he has to lock his eyes onto yours. to desperately beg you for more.
"i can't- baby, please, i'm gonna-"
"i know, i know." you whisper.
your grip tightens again, delivering the last devastating strokes.
lando lets out a long, muffled sob into your shoulder. his face is buried itself into you as his body twitches between your knees. the deep, heavy release hits your hand. thick, warm cum spilling over your fingers. smearing against his stomach. his hips hitch twice again when you start to move. his forehead drops heavily against your collarbone. he's softly trying to catch his breath.
the silence comes back. thick but comforting.
lando stands up softly. grabs a kitchen towel and gently takes your hand. he wipes your hand clean. his movements slow, focused. incredibly sweet. he cleans himself up.
you look at him and smile. he smiles back. he sits back down and holds you. his arms wrap you tightly, his breathing gradually slowing down to a soft comforting sigh.
he looks at you. his curls a complete disaster, his eyes still slightly watery but clear. that quiet, vulnerable awe is back in his face. the raw knowledge that despite the divorce, despite the paperwork at the end of the table, he is still wants to be yours.
all yours.
"thank you." he whispers, his voice thick and rough. he reaches up to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.
you lean your head back into his shoulder, letting your eyes close under the dim yellow light.
after some moments of silence, lando speaks softly.
"ice cream or pizza?" his voice low and sleepy.
you let out a tiny, tired breath. your hand traces a lazy circle on his knee.
"pizza."
"yeah? thought the garlic was making you sick." he lets out a quiet little laugh, already reaching across the table to flip the greasy box open.
he pulls a slice out and hands it over to you.
you don't answer him. you just take the slice from his hand. a soft, tired smile pulls at your lips as he grabs a slice for himself.
warnings: smut throughout!! MDNI!! unprotected sex, little bit of jealous!lando
snippets of lando and his girls sex life throughout the years of their relationship! <3 (can be read as a fewtrell!reader but it's not discussed)
masterlist the playlist
the first time -
y/n remembered her first time with lando like it was yesterday. the two of them, freshly 19 and still friends at the time, found themselves cuddled up on the sofa in his and max’s shared house. their friends slept dotted around the house, many of them drunk and sleeping in the first place their body stumbled into.
there’d always been a sense of something more between the two, friends from a young age, attached at the hip. they were close, too close for friends, max would tell him constantly - raising his eyebrows every time he caught them wrapped up in each other on the couch, or when they entwined their hands at any given opportunity. everyone around them had given up trying to push the two together, hoping they would come to their senses soon.
their first time happened so naturally, it was quite sweet actually. her head resting on his shoulder, as they sat together, her eyes staring wide up at his face. it was that moment he decided to go for it, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. he half expected her to push him off, but found himself pleasantly surprised when she kissed him back, escalating the kiss till she was straddling his lap.
“not here,” she remembered him whispering in her ear, pulling her up from his lap as he lead the two of them to his room. the two of them resuming there position on his bed, lando resting his back on the headboard, palms covering her waist as she hovered over his cock.
“-wait!” she panicked slightly, “i don’t know how to-”
“it’s ok, you’re fine. just breathe, ill guide you. go slow, yeah?” he reassured her. in the heat of the moment he had forgotten this was her first time with anyone, let alone him, and yet she’d decided to get on top.
y/n remembered lowering down on him, his grip on her hips allowing him to fill her slowly. lando distinctly remembered her shy moans, the way she tried to stay quiet, aware of the amount of people in the house.
“fuck me, angel. so tight,” he’d said, grunting slightly as she got lower, fighting to keep his hips still whilst she grew accustomed to the stretch, “last bit angel, you can take it.”
“there’s more?” she’d replied, panting slightly as he chuckled at her, “i can’t d-”
she remembered the way their eyes locked as he jutted his hips up into her, filling her whole. he remembered the way her mouth gaped open, and the way her head rolled back as his hands slowly rocked her hips over his length.
lando was gentle with her, kissing her softly throughout, his moans and praises merging together as she grew more confident, falling into a steady rhythm on top of him.
“i love you,” he’d grunted as his hands ran over her skin, trying to remember everything about her - the way she felt, the way she sounded, the way she clenched around his cock when she got closer. she reciprocated his sentiment, neither of them shocked at the revelation.
“you owe me a tenner,” max had said to niran the next day, after he’d found the two of them passed out in lando’s bed, smiling to himself.
getting caught -
the two of them gained more confidence with their sex life the following years. lando knew exactly what she needed, and how to make her fold for him. max had described the two as rabbits, going at it like no one’s business, laughing to himself as the trio constructed a new bedframe - the last one meeting its unfortunate ending when lando had taken out his stress on his girl. her legs had been over his shoulders when they heard a snap! and felt the mattress dipping into the broken slat. the paint on the headboard had long been chipped from the constant banging into the wall behind, and one of the legs was coming lose.
it had been mid-season, the two of them finding themselves in his drivers room after an unfortunate race. y/n had tried consoling him, but being comforting and supportive was not working at the time. he’d come round eventually and talk to her but for now, he had her pressed against the wall, her cheek pushed up against it. her skirt had simply been tugged up around her hips, panties to the side as he pushed into her from behind, roughly thrusting as he muttered curses under his breath. his hand was about to snake around her waist to toy with her clit when the door flung open.
“land- OH SHIT!” a voice had called out before dissolving into giggles, followed by the door slamming shut again. the shocked face of daniel ricciardo, followed by his distinct laugh, was something y/n was sure would never leave her brain. the interruption hadn’t bothered lando, the two of them were both covered enough for daniel to have seen too much, and so he took it in his stride, bringing them both to a finish soon after.
it had taken a while for y/n to look daniel in the eyes again without wanting to drop dead on the spot, her boyfriend simply smirked at the memory.
club, cameras, cars -
lando’s body was pressed up against hers, packed together in the busy club, their bodies moving in time with the beat. his hands stayed firmly on her waist, telling her it was so she wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but realistically it had been his way of keeping her close to him. close enough that he could drop his head to hers, joining their lips together in a deep kiss. her tongue dragged along his bottom lip, before her teeth nipped at him, pulling away slowly to catch her breath. his hips grinding into hers, her hands running through his curls.
she was obsessed with him, his unbuttoned shirt, the way his necklace peaked through - she was feral for him.
he looked up momentarily, glad to meet max’s eyes, who directed him to the corner where a man similar in age was filming the interaction between the couple. he leant down to her ear again, so that she could hear him over the loud bass.
“someone filming us,” he told her, feeling her body tense slightly, “you wanna get out of here?”
she’d nodded at him. being filmed by anyone and everyone was nothing new for her, although she wished people would have some concept of privacy. it was somewhat infuriating, but she guessed that was the price she paid for loving the man in front of her. his eyes had softened at her, noticing her anxiety - she didn’t get anxious when people captured them driving around, or just living their normal lives. she did however when such intimate moments were filmed and posted on twitter for the world to see. people had strong opinions - strong opinions that they shared online all whilst hiding their own identities.
they walked next to each other, his hand clutching hers protectively as they said goodbye to max. a few cameras flashed as they walked towards lando’s car, the odd fan approaching him to sign something - they assumed someone had leaked where they were. it was these interactions she didn’t mind, the ones that didn’t make her feel like her whole life was being dissected by the media.
“’m glad max pointed him out,” he started as they climbed into the car, “don’t want to imagine how far i would’ve gone if he hadn’t.”
“you would’ve fucked me in the middle of a club?” she spluttered out, turning to stare at him as he pulled onto the main road.
“i’d fuck you anywhere, angel,” he replied with a shrug.
“you are the pr teams worst nightmare,” she joked, shaking her head at him again.
“hey!” he defended, “since when did loving my girlfriend become a crime?”
“it’s not,” she conceded, smirking to herself at her next statement, “the real crime is the fact you’re not pulling into that lay-by right now.”
“i- wha-,” he stuttered, taken aback at her boldness, “here? right now?”
“why not? there’s no one around.”
he didn’t bother indicating, pulling the car into the side lane, and hurrying to turn the lights off. his free hand adjusted the seat, rolling it back as far as it went before reaching over to grab the woman besides him. she clambered over the centre console, landing not-so graciously on his lap.
the whole interaction was messy and lacking in any decorum. his cock was deep inside her, stretching her out as he thrusted up into her. with every bounce her knees hit the side of the door or the centre console, sure to bring bruises to the skin from the sheer impact. she leant forwards into him, his hands trailing under her dress to squeeze at her breasts.
“baby, lean back a bit,” he had told her, desperate to see her face.
“lan, if i lean any further back im gonna hit the horn,” she said, still adjusting herself to lean up.
“you can hit my horn,” he retorted, giggling to himself at the childish joke.
“don’t make jokes when you’re inside me,” she begged, sighing at the man in front of her.
the counter -
y/n had remembered their move to monaco fondly, lando had been living there for a few months before she made the move herself. she recalled the heartfelt goodbye with her family and friends, her entire life packed into boxes and a suitcase as she moved to a country she’d never even visited. the move felt right, especially after 3 years together - 2 months of long distance was hard enough, neither of them could imagine spending anymore time apart. she’d set herself up as a small time content creator, working closely within quadrant to build up a sufficient income to support herself in between races. lando’s fans loved the snippets of domestic lando, but they also appreciated her wicked sense of humour and her biased insight on the world of motorsport.
once she’d settled into life at the new flat, traces of her personality dotted around, the woman found herself on facetime to her mum giving her a virtual tour.
lando had been out of the flat, spending his morning training, returning home sweaty but overjoyed to hear the sounds of his girlfriends voice travelling through their home. taking the opportunity to sneak up on her, he crept around the hallway, moving quietly towards the kitchen.
“praying my B in french GCSE is gonna come in hand- AH!” y/n yelped, almost dropping her phone as lando pounced on her shoulders, shouting boo! as he did. the older woman on the phone laughed as her daughters face went from startled to glaring at the boy behind her.
“i better leave you two be,” her mum had told them, smiling at the camera and waving slightly to the couple. the shock of her youngest child announcing that she was moving to a different country was wearing off gradually - the happiness of her daughter being with someone she’d secretly rooted for their entire childhood taking over.
“bye mum!” “bye y/m/n!”
y/n had placed the phone beside her, leaning back to rest on the counter. lando had fallen into her embrace, hands wrapping around her waist as he pressed kisses across her entire face. she leant into the kiss, joining their lips together in what had started so innocently. in what had started as such a wholesome day, talking to her mum about the new flat and spending time with the man she loved, quickly turned into something much more.
he’d soon noticed how the counter perfectly lined up with her waist, smirking into her lips as they kissed, before his hands twisted her waist, turning her by the hip until she was pressed up against the marble. her back arching as he bent her over, grinding her ass into him as she did. he’d tugged at her jeans, pulling them down her legs slowly, her lace panties following soon after. he’d allowed her a moment to step out of them, kicking her clothes across the kitchen floor, before kicking her feet further apart. his strong hand gripped her hip, stabilising her frame as he guided his cock through her folds, covering it in her slick before pushing himself into her fully. she moaned out for him, her hands searching for anything to grip onto for support, settling on wrapping around the coffee machine.
the counter pushed on her lower stomach, the pressure sending waves through her body as she tightened around him. he grunted at the feeling, his fingers finding their way to her clit, falling into a natural rhythm as he always did. lando knew her body like it was his own, he could map every bump, every scar, every freckle that adorned her skin. he knew where she needed him, and how.
“im gonna cum,” she’d whimpered pathetically, embarrassed at how quickly she fell apart for him.
“already?” he asked cockily, his hand landing harshly on her ass. lando took her moment of shock to run his hand up her back, his fingers settling at the base of her hair. he gripped at the roots, tugging her entire body back into his, her face settling next to his. he could hear the way she panted, the way his name tumbled from her lips like a mantra.
“always take me so well,” he moaned in her ear, exhaling as he did. the feeling of his breath hitting the skin of her neck sent her over the edge. she fell forwards, legs shaking beneath him.
lando’s hands moved back to her hips, holding her up so that she wouldn’t fall as he pushed her into the counter again. he thrusted into her for a minute more, his pace growing sloppier as he reached his own climax. y/n whined at him, overstimulated and sore - her noises short circuited his brain, and soon after he was filling her up, his cum leaking from the sides as he rode out his own high.
they panted together, lando pulling his cock out as they fought to catch their breath.
“how did we manage to fuck in the kitchen before our actual bedroom?” she chuckled, moving to grab her discarded clothes and shuffling towards the bathroom.
“never gonna be able to cook in here without thinking about this,” he replied with a shake of his head, as he followed her out of the room with a final glance at the counter. the coffee machine now skewed, water puddled around it from where she’d knocked the tank.
“lando norris? cooking? that’ll be the day the world spontaneously combusts,” she teased.
jealousy -
y/n had accompanied lando and max to the motogp event, finding herself in a deep conversation with someone she had hung around with during the karting days. she hadn’t expected to see him there, pleasantly surprised to catch up with an old friend who’d she’d spent a lot of time with growing up. she honestly saw no harm in it, lando and max had disappeared to film content of the day, so she saw no issue in speaking to him rather than sit alone, twiddling her fingers.
lando, however, was fuming not happy. he trusted his girlfriend in any situation, it was other men he didn’t trust, especially when he walked up to find y/n laughing loudly with a man he vaguely recognised.
“y/n, we’re leaving now,” lando told her, clenching his fists at his sides rather than taking her hand.
“oh- ok,” she replied, a little startled at his tone, “bye sam! was lovely seeing you!” she said to the man, turning on her heel to catch up with her boyfriend.
“lovely to see you!” lando mocked childishly when she rejoined his side, “yeah bet he thought it was lovely to see you.”
“what is your problem?” she asked, stopping short of the car, arms crossed over her chest.
“what’s my problem? you. him. the way he looked at you?”
“are you serious?” she asked, taken aback, “he’s an old friend lando. grow up.”
“grow up?” he repeated, “you don’t see me laughing like that with old friends.”
“whatever you do with old friends is not my problem, i trust you to make the right decision. but clearly, you don’t trust me,” she responded, marching past him and climbing in the back of max’s car.
the two barely spoke for days, the silence made worse by the fact they were stuck together in max’s spare room. y/n spent her days with P, lando with max - the other couple desperately trying to speak sense into the two of them, knowing just how stubborn they both could be.
y/n finally believed their spat was over when he settled between her legs, eating at her like a man starved. she was stubborn, but never too stubborn to pass up the chance of his tongue on her heat. his hands gripped at her thighs, his grip leaving bruises on her skin. lando’s tongue swirled around her clit before sucking at her harshly. she was so close, hands gripping at anything - his hair, the bedsheets, his hands. but then she felt nothing, only cold air against her desperate heat as lando pushed himself away and stood up to move across the room.
she sat up on her arms, staring at him in complete disbelief.
“what the fuck lando?”
“you know what you need to do if you wanna cum,” he’d told her, dark eyes staring back at her. he wanted an apology, she wasn’t going to apologise. she’d done nothing wrong.
“good idea, lan. ill see if sam’s free,” she shot back, leaning forward to grab her phone from the bedside table.
that had been her mistake. potentially too brave in the moment, y/n genuinely didn’t know if she regretted even alluding to messaging the man causing the couples squabble.
“i didn’t mean it!” she’d moaned out, feeling his hand slap against the skin of her ass harshly, the feeling sending shots of pleasure back to her core, before he rolled her onto her back once more. he freed his cock quickly, roughly thrusting into her with no warning.
“’m sor- m’sorry,” she said again, her legs pulled harshly over his shoulders as he fucked into her. he wasn’t even mad anymore, yet he rammed into her as if to teach her a lesson, as if he was literally fucking the attitude out of her. she moaned out loudly at the feeling, lando’s grunts like music to her ears.
“you gonna behave now?” he asked her, pace remaining relentless.
“i wi- will,” she choked out, “i promise.”
“good girl, that’s more like it,” he said, satisfied with her remorse as his fingers returned to her clit.
she came hard and fast around him, the tightening of her walls bringing him to his own climax. he pulled out slowly, rolling to lay next to her as their chests heaved in unison.
“you know i do trust you, right?” he asked, finally willing to talk to her about the argument.
“i know. i just wish you’d show it, rather than getting angry when i speak to any man.”
“im sorry,” lando apologised, pulling her into his side and pressing a kiss to her head, “im trying my best, m’trying not to let jealousy get the better of me.”
“thank you,” she offered him, “and ill try not to provoke you. even if it does result in the best sex of my life.”
he chuckled lightly, his breathing finally stable. but no quiet moment between the two would ever stay quiet for long.
“im glad you guys made up and that, but next time can you not be so loud?” max shouted through the door, making the couple blush as they realised they’d forgotten that he was home, “oh, and you’re cleaning those sheets.”
yes, the idea of reader getting used as a fleshlight is fantastic, but what about reader using him as a dildo? not worried about his pleasure. you're only fucking him because he's a loser with a huge cock.
you're stuffing your panties (lacy, soaked through, reeking of your perfect pussy) into his face in a failed attempt to stifle his loud, unabashed moans. he definitely hasn't been fucked before, if so, not like this. due to his inexperience, he's probably came way too many times already inside you, and so you're bouncing on his fat, slimy cock with cum sloshing inside you and leaking with every bounce onto his pelvis.
"oh fuck- shut up, will you? i'm t-trying... mmnh... to focus," you manage out. trying to sound stern is basically an impossibility when you've got his cock smushed inside you to the hilt.
his hands are fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, thighs trembling beneath you as you sink down on him and then rock your hips back and forth while completely stuffed. this method doesn't give him as much pleasure as it does for you, but you don't care. this isn't for his pleasure, or your connection. all you care about is how deep he hits when you sink all the way, how your cunt's clenching so tight he can't stop shaking.
"f-fuck-!" he whines again pathetically through the lace in his mouth, drool soaking the crotch of your panties where they're pressed over his mouth and nose. his eyes are wide, glassy, fixed on the place where you meet him. it's humiliating how desperate he looks.
"you like getting used, huh?" you pant, beginning to bounce again so the overstimulation hits once more. you let his big, drooling cock drag and catch with each rough bounce. it makes that slick, wet sound every time you move.
"ah- ye-yeah, like it soooo much," he moans so loud it vibrates through your soaked panties, tries to say something, but you shove your panties harder into his face so you don't hear what shit he has to say. his cock pulses again and you can feel more warmth spill out of you, overflowing from the tip, dripping down to his balls in glooping heaps. "such a -shit- big fucking cock wasted on a nobody like ngh! you. y-you don't deserve it."
your voice cracks halfway through but you don't stop or pretend this is anything but using him like he's just a toy that happens to twitch and moan and cum without your permission. your hands are braced on his chest for balance, his skin hot and slick under your palms from how hard he's sweating, poor thing.
you push the underwear just enough to see his eyes, which are teary and rolled back. his eyes clamp shut when you drop down especially hard, and his whole body jerks like he's seizing. his stomach tightens under your hands but the second you grind down again deep, slow and mean, he lets out a strangled sob into your panties, soaked through with spit and the sharp scent of your cunt.
"mmnh, fuck, look at you," you breathe out, "you're crying, sweetheart. is it too much?" you coo mockingly, dragging your hips up until just his swollen tip is nestled at the edge of your cunt, nearly pulling out. the area where his cockhead enters you is smeared in cum and slick. he scrabbles at your arms, needing to be back inside you. then, without warning, you slam back down, clamping hard on him.
he screams behind the fabric. legs kicking. you begin grinding down hard as punishment until you feel another twitch inside you, his cock thickening, spurting another weak, creamy load. his fifth? sixth? doesn't matter.
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lando norris x best friend/fwb!reader₊⊹ smau + written
it seems like everyone in the world knows that lando is in love with you, except the man himself.
note: anon requested yearning fwb lando and i had to provide! there's no set timeframe for this one but could definitely be read as before lando got his first win 🤷♂️ the smut was a bit tough to write but i hope you guys enjoy anyway :) kind of bullied max and alex a bit in this one, couldn't help myself hehe
word count: 3.8k warnings : smut (18+ mdni), oral (f receiving), semi public sex (on a phone call, lando's drivers room), unprotected sex, exhibitionism?, swearing, a few kms jokes
fc: multiple
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･
yourusername just posted
liked by lando, riabish, and others
yourusername: life lately
view all comments:
user: MAX LMAOOOO
lilyzneimer: We need to get together again soon ❤️
yourusername: PLEASE i miss you </3
user: yn posting with lando wearing a quadrant hat is this a hint at something??
quadrant: 🤫🤫🤫
lando: 😍😍😍
⤷user: u are not subtle big guy
⤷user: we know you want her just admit it 🎤
comment liked by maxfewtrell
lilymhe: just one chance, please
⤷yourusername: i would give u a thousand chances babygirl
⤷alex_albon: GO AWAY I HATE YOU.
⤷lilymhe: lets use our inside voices, alexander.
⤷yourusername: point and laugh everybody, point and laugh
user: lando in that tight black shirt is it hot in here or is it just me 🥵
comment liked by author
maxfewtrell: You are always doing me dirty bro
⤷yourusername: you do it to yourself man
rebeccadonaldson: Stunning 🥰💞
⤷yourusername: thats u becca <333
user: if her and lando aren’t dating then why are all the wags in her comments 🤔
view story replies:
lando: Youre replacing me?
↳yourusername: never
maxfewtrell: What am I chopped liver?
↳yourusername: sorry do i know u?
↳maxfewtrell: I see how it is
user: crying at these questions you’re asking alex i know he hates you
↳yourusername: he does
user: wait i’m obsessed with this duo! lando who?
lilymhe: please keep him i don’t want him back
↳yourusername: HELL NOOO
↳yourusername: i’m already sick of this guy!
↳lilymhe: he read your message over my shoulder and now he’s crying 😕
↳yourusername: alex if ur reading this cry harder
—
you fall back onto the bed, gasping a few breaths as your legs twitch from the orgasm that just racked your body. lando pulls out and flops down on his back next to you, turning to grab his phone off the nightstand. you roll over, resting your head on his chest and tangling your bare legs with his. he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer and rubbing your back. you're both silent for a moment still trying to catch your breath from the workout you'd just finished. you look up at lando as he responds to some unanswered text and admire the man. his cheeks pink, face flushed. his curls are all over the place, some sticking to his forehead from sweat. you're sure you look the same, always leaving this man’s bed looking a mess.
you run your hand along lando’s chest, tracing the bite marks and light bruises you'd left. as you do, you cheekily pinch one of his nipples and he yelps, dropping his phone and slapping your hand away. you laugh at his reaction, reaching your hand up to attempt to do it again but lando doesn't let you. he flips your position, forcing you flat on your back with him hovering over you. he has a playful glare on his face, holding your wrists above your head and against the bed.
“how would you like it if i did that to you, huh?” he pauses, thinking about his question. “nevermind, i know you'd like it.”
“you know me so well, baby” you beam up at him, parting your legs so he fits more easily between them. you try to get him to release your wrists but he doesn't budge, his grip too strong. “let me go, you menace.”
“fine.” he leans down and bites at one of your tits before releasing your hands, you moan at the sharp pain. “now we're even.”
“asshole.”
“you love me.”
“mhmm.” you hum in response, agreeing with his words. lando, as always, is unable to realize you're serious no matter how many times you try to let him know you want more than your current arrangement. you've been in love with this man for ages, just waiting for him to open his eyes and see it. what is the most confusing to you is that you know he has feelings for you, more than just friendship or lust. he's so fucking obvious about it, but you don't know if he's scared to admit it to you or if he's even admitted it to himself yet.
stuck in your head, you don't notice lando making his way down your body, placing kisses as he goes. it's when he's finally between your legs, pressing a kiss to your thigh, that you pay attention to him again. you groan, knowing exactly what he wants.
“nooo…i don't think i can come again.” you try to squeeze your legs shut but his big head is in the way. “i’ll die.”
“you don't have to come again, just let me taste you.” he pleads, looking up from between your legs, eyes wide and desperate. you're so weak to his gaze, tossing your head back and spreading your legs further for him.
“yeah, alright.” he dives right in at your compliance, so eager to get his mouth on you. lando holds your leg open with one hand, pressing you flat into the bed. with the other hand he slides two fingers between your folds, already dripping from when he fucked your earlier. you're leaking a mix of your own juices and lando’s cum, and he pushes it back in, making a squelching noise. he puts his mouth on your clit, sucking as he fingers you. you let out a whimper at the feeling, still so sensitive from before. you reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, yanking his head back so you can see his eyes. he looks at you, dazed, his mind clearly focused on one thing.
he moans at the taste of you on his tongue, closing his eyes. he uses his thick fingers to spread your wetness along your folds, dipping down to eat his cum out of you. the sounds he's making are filthy, slurping up your cum and spitting on your clit using his thumb to massage the sensitive nub.
while the man is preoccupied eating you, you decide it's the perfect time to bring up what he's been avoiding, hoping he'll be distracted enough to not brush you off this time.
“lando…” you brush a few curls off of his face, tilting his head to look up at you without making him remove his mouth. “i wanted to ask you something.”
he hums in reply, eyes unfocused as he continues licking and sucking your clit. this probably won't work but you've tried so many different times to approach this conversation and nothing has worked so you might as well give it a shot.
“do you ever- ah,” your question is interrupted when his fingers reach that spot inside of you, causing you to flinch and moan. you gather your thoughts, trying again. “do you ever think about, um, being more than this? like the- ah, the friends with benefits thing?”
he lets out a questioning sound from between your thighs, not stopping his ministrations. you're not even sure he understands what you're trying to say at this point, too far gone worshiping your pussy. you use your grip on his hair to pull his head up, forcing him to remove his mouth and finally pay attention to your words.
“lando, i'm trying to say that i’m in-” you're cut off by your phone vibrating loudly against the nightstand. you groan out loud, you thought this time would finally be it. the moment is broken and lando sits up from between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs. you lay there for a minute, letting the phone ring, thinking about what you did in a past life to have this kind of luck.
“aren't you going to answer that?” lando nods at your phone, using the back of his hand to wipe your juices from his face.
“ugh, i guess so.” you pick up the phone and see that it's max calling and roll your eyes. you answer the call, because for some reason instead of giving up when you let it ring for a while, he kept calling. “mate, what do you want? i'm kind of busy.”
“when are you going to be done, we're sick of waiting for you.” max sounds pissy on the line, clearly prepared to bitch at you over your lateness. “and tell lando i said hi.”
“hi max.” lando waves at the phone like an idiot, as if max can see him. while you're busy chatting with max, aka getting yelled at for your lack of time management skills, lando takes the opportunity to finish what he started. his cock is hard and throbbing when he rubs it between your slick folds, using a hand to press it down, sliding through your wetness. you smother a moan at the feeling of his cock rubbing on you, not wanting max to hear. you glare at lando, trying to signal him to stop what he's doing, but he ignores you. with his cock sufficiently lubed up, he pushes into your entrance. he slides in easily, your hole already stretched, and fits snugly inside you. you have to cover your mouth to keep in your sounds as max rants at you over the phone. you're about to try and find a way to hang up on your friend but lando stops you, shaking his head and mouthing at you not to end the call.
lando pulls out of you almost completely and pushes back into you, hard, stealing the air from your lungs. you can feel him in your throat, his cock big and thick as it pounds in and out of you. he presses a hand down on your stomach, slamming into you over and over. the intensity of his movement has you sliding up the bed, your head almost hitting the headboard. you reach a hand up and behind you, pressing it against the wood to stop from sliding up too far.
“i just think it's a little disrespectful, yn. you said you'd join and i even told the stream you'd be here. they're mad at me for lying, don't you feel bad?” max’s words go in one ear and out the other, you couldn't listen to him if you tried, too overwhelmed by the feeling of lando filling you up. you feel yourself getting close when he starts rubbing on your clit, your walls tightening around his cock. lando increases the speed of his thrusts, pounding in and out of your pussy. you can't stop yourself from letting out a loud moan as you let go, lando joining you, groaning when he releases his cum inside you, pulling out and watching as it oozes out of you.
max is silent on the phone for a moment, you and lando’s combined breathing definitely audible on his side of the call.
“are you two seriously fucking right now? you are SO LUCKY i’m muted on stream. i can’t believe this! the audacity of yo-” max’s voice is cut off when lando grabs the phone and hangs up on the man, tossing the device onto the bed and leaning his head down on your chest, putting his full weight on top of you.
“he's not going to shut up about that.” you warn lando, already thinking about how annoying max will be about what you just did.
“worth it.”
—
view story replies:
user: LIKKEEEE
user: lmao max looking like he’s lando’s dad here 😂😂
lilymhe: what do i get for liking
↳yourusername: A BIG OLE KISS
↳lilymhe: LETS GOOOOOOO
user: 3rd wheeling nortrell
↳yourusername: always
mclarenf1: Please don’t run over our driver, we need him
↳yourusername: what about max
↳mclarenf1: Not our monkey not our circus
yourusername just posted
liked by lilyzneimer, lando, and others
yourusername: girls night 🩷✨@.lilyzneimer @.lilymhe
view all comments:
lilyzneimer: 🍸🪩💋
lando: Holy shit
comment deleted by author
lando: Youre so fucking hot
comment deleted by author
lando: AWOOOOGAAAAAAAAAAA
comment deleted by author
user: uh lando are you good man
⤷user: deleting the comments like we didn’t see them LMAOOO
⤷user: down horrendous
alex_albon: We were supposed to watch Marley & Me
⤷lilymhe: don’t pretend you didn’t go and watch it with george when i cancelled on you 🙄
⤷alex_albon: That did not happen
⤷georgerussell63: Don’t lie to her, Alexander
⤷yourusername: exposed by ur girlfriend AND ur boyfriend LOL
yourusername just posted
liked by lando and others
yourusername: best part of family vacation is when all my aunties ask when i’m going to get married and have kids 🙄
view all comments:
user: need to know where the bikini is from neowwww
user: SO PRETTYYYY
lando: You can post on instagram but not pick up the phone :(
⤷yourusername: omg call me you loser
user: caption is SO real
user: ok but when are you going to get married and have kids
⤷yourusername: when someone puts a ring on it babe
⤷user: @.lando GET TO WORK
view story replies:
lando: I miss you
↳lando: Come home
↳lando: Im lonely without you
↳lando: Pretty girl
↳lando: Cant wait to see you again :(((
yourusername just posted
liked by oscarpiastri, lando, and others
yourusername: thinking of a career change 🧐
view all comments:
user: yn make a post without lando in it challenge FAILED
⤷yourusername: mind your business bro
lando: so that’s why my pitstop lasted six seconds
⤷yourusename: i can think of something else that only lasted six seconds
⤷user: WHAT DID SHE SAAAAAYYYY
⤷user: hello??? yn come back what does that mean???
⤷user: guys relax, she’s totally talking about vine…
⤷user: sure bud
mclarenf1: We love having you in the garage 🫶
⤷yourusername: does this mean you’ll give me a job?
⤷mclarenf1:…We will get back to you on that
user: lando’s hands holy shit
⤷user: the veins got damn
maxfewtrell: Stick to your day job mate
⤷yourusername: like u could do better 🖕
—
you manage to extricate yourself from the pit crew member’s flirting, explaining that you have somewhere to be. he lets you go but not before asking for your number.
“sorry, i don’t have a phone.” you shrug at the man, quickly walking away. he tries to call out to you again but you ignore him.
you make your way to the mclaren team hub, trying to calm your nerves. you try not to worry too much about why lando wants to speak to you. deep down you hope he’s finally pulled his head out of his ass and realized that he wants to be with you. the way he reacted to you entertaining some stranger’s flirting has your hopes high for a positive outcome to this conversation.
you scan your pass at the hospitality doors, squeezing past a handful of vip guests oohing and ahhing at the motorhome’s interior. thankfully, no one stops you on your way up to lando’s room. you take the stairs two at a time, trying to seem casual but you’re definitely rushing. the excitement is mixing with anxiety and you send out a little prayer that this goes the way you want.
you knock on the tinted black door with a white #4 on it, rocking back on your feet, waiting for lando to answer. you don’t have to wait long, you hear lando trip over something and swear before he opens the door, smiling awkwardly at you.
“hey, yn.” he waves you into the room, shutting the door behind you. “um, just sit wherever.”
you take a seat on the sofa bed, twisting your hands in your lap. lando locks the door and closes the blinds, blocking out the outside world. he turns to you, running a hand through his curls and letting out a sigh. instead of sitting next to you like you’d expected, he grabs a chair from the desk and sits across from you.
“um, so what did you want to talk about?” you try to get the conversation started and lando groans, covering his face with his hands. “or not?”
“no, sorry. give me a second.” lando rubs his hands over his eyes before putting them behind his head and leaning back in the chair. “i need to tell you something.”
“alright?” you’re so anxious, you need him to just get on with it. “nothing bad, is it?”
“no, no. i mean i hope not.” he leans forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees and looks at you, holding your gaze. “yn…i think i’m in love with you.”
you just blink at the man, eyes wide, and he stares back at you. at your silence, he continues speaking.
“i think i have been for a long time but i was too scared to do anything about it. i thought if we were hooking up but still friends, it would be enough for me.” he gets up, moving to sit next to you on the couch, grabbing your hands in his and you turn to look at him. “i’ve wanted you for so long, yn.”
“uh...” you don’t know what to say, speechless at his confession. you’d hoped this would happen but now you don’t know what to do with yourself.
“please, please, yn. tell me you feel the same.” lando grips your hands tighter, his eyes pleading at you. “tell me this wasn’t a mistake.”
“lando…” your brain finally starts working, and you pull your hands from his, moving to sit on his lap and grabbing his face with your hands. “you idiot.”
“wha-” you don’t give him the chance to reply, leaning forward and kissing him hard. he melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist as you straddle his lap. you pull back from the kiss, staring into his blue green eyes, your own glimmering with tears.
“i have been waiting for this moment for so long, lando.” you lean in for another quick kiss, leaning back in his arms. “i tried to tell you so many times that i wanted more, but you kept brushing me off.”
“fuck. i’m so fucking stupid.” lando laughs in relief, tilting his head forward and bumping your forehead. “so you love me?”
“of course i do, dummy. so much.” he leans in to kiss you again and it quickly becomes heated. lando licks into your mouth, hands sliding underneath your shirt and rubbing up your sides. a hand reaches up and grabs one of your tits, causing you to moan into his mouth. you run your hand through his hair, yanking his head back and he groans, looking up at you. “say it again.”
“i love you” he’s breathless when he says the words, the look in his eyes full of love. “i love you, yn.”
you go back in for another kiss, reaching down to pull up lando’s team kit, only breaking the kiss so that he can take the shirt off. you pull back from his mouth, kissing up his neck and lando moans. he tightens his grip on your waist and smoothly switches your positions, putting you flat on your back on the sofa bed. his gold chain hanging down as he hovers above you. he kisses you deeply before sitting back above you and pulling your shirt up over your head, removing your bra as well.
“god, you’re so fucking beautiful.” he grabs your tits in your hands, leaning down to kiss and bite at them. “all mine, yeah?”
“all yours, lan.” you moan at the feeling of his mouth on you, moving your hands to his waistband, attempting to unbutton his jeans. he lets go of you, standing up to take off his pants, moving to take off your skirt and panties before he gets back on top of you. you both moan at the feeling of skin on skin, his cock already hard, warm and throbbing as it brushes against your stomach.
you spread your legs for lando when he slips a hand between them and he groans when he feels how wet you already are. he starts to lean his head down to where your thighs are parted, clearly wanting to eat you out, but you put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
“lando, i need you to fuck me. now.”
“shit, yeah okay.” he slicks his cock up with your wetness, rubbing your clit a few times, before moving to push the tip into your hole. you’re tight from the lack of foreplay and lando groans as he forces himself inside you. “fuck baby, you feel so fucking good.”
fully seated inside you, lando gives you a few moments to adjust, leaning forward to kiss your neck and lips. you run a hand down his back, feeling so full. all you can think is lando, lando, lando.
“yeah, say my name baby.” you’re already so far gone, you didn’t realize you were speaking out loud. lando leans back up, holding your hips and pulling out of you all the way before pushing back in. you moan loudly at the feeling, your walls squeezing around him. “love this fucking pussy.”
he pounds into you over and over, you swear you can feel him in your throat. neither of you try to control your volume, your moans echoing in the room. you hope these walls are soundproof but you’re so lost in the feeling of lando’s cock filling you up, you don’t even care if someone hears. let them hear, let them know how good lando makes you feel.
lando’s cock slips out of you from how wet you are and you whine at the sudden emptiness. he coos at you, leaning down and holding your cheek in his hand. you look up at him, tears in your eyes from how good he’s fucking you. he smiles at you, eyes full of love. “my pretty girl. can’t believe you love me.”
“love you more than anything.” you lean up to kiss him and he pushes his cock back into your pussy, sliding in easily from your wetness. he picks up his pace, pounding in and out of you harder than ever. you can feel yourself getting close, your walls tightening around him and he groans at the feeling. “ah- please cum inside me, lando. please, please.”
“fuck, yeah. anything you want, baby.” he speeds up his thrusts, rubbing circles on your clit to get you to cum before him. you moan, feeling yourself peaking, and lando is right there with you. you tense at the wave of pleasure overcoming you, holding lando close, tucking your face into his neck, breathing heavily. he groans as he lets go, cum filling you up. he grinds his cum deeper inside you, before pulling out and watching as it drips out of you. “holy shit.”
“yeah,” you sigh, trying to catch your breath, holding lando in your arms. you’re both covered in sweat, panting from the exertion. “i love you so much, lando.”
he lifts his head from your chest, beaming at you. “i’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
“i’ll never stop saying it.”
—
view story replies:
lando: I LOVE YOUUU
↳lando: MY GIRLL
↳lando: FUCK THE WIN I GOT YOU
↳yourusername: love u lan <3
can i please request some max smut? plot (or even pwp) is completely up to u, as long as its filthy max smut, which ik ull feed us so well queen
thinking about… just straight up filthy sex with max verstappen
note: hi nonnie,, i’m so sorry you’ve had to wait so long for this req !! i must admit it’s 100% just porn, like there's absolutely no plot whatsoever. it’s kind of based on an idea i had from these hcs but didn’t add to the list then. kinda debated not posting this after the bean soup incident but whatever, not all of u max fans are evil, soooo here we are. hopefully this makes up for the long delay tho and i hope u enjoy<3
18+ content ahead, mdni !!
there’s sweat beading on max’s forehead, threatening to drip onto your face with each and every hard thrust of his hips. his eyes don’t meet yours; they’re locked onto the diamonds around your neck, sparkling in the evening light.
“max-!“
his gaze flicks up to you as you choke out his name, briefly— so very briefly—, before it drops back down to the jewellery you’re wearing.
“so beautiful, schat,” he grits out, “so fucking- mine...”
you accept that his focus is elsewhere, and allow yours to drift also, landing on the spot where his cock is plunging in and out of your pussy. the sight of it makes you clench subconsciously, and you feel his hips stutter as you do, trying not to come prematurely.
the bracelets on your wrists jangle against each other as max fucks you, a delicate clinking that can only just be heard over skin slapping against skin and both of your heavy breaths.
there are more diamonds, as well as an assortment of other coloured gemstones, shining on your fingers as they scratch down his back, red lines surely appearing instantly. he’s always marked easily; you’d found that out early in your relationship from an italian tabloid and a paparazzo with a very keen eye.
the edge of the vanity digs into the back of your thighs as max pounds you into it again and again. you can’t see the mirror pressed against your back, but you can hazard a guess that the front of it is all fogged up from the workout max is putting you both through right now.
your pussy is dripping for him, only getting wetter each time his tip rams into your cervix. slick sounds have filled the room, along with your moans and the rattling of the mirror against the wall as you’re fucked against it.
your weeping cunt gets the better of you on one particularly hard thrust, and his cock slips out from you in one wet motion. before you can reach down to ease him back in, he spins you, so that you’re facing the mirror. he makes eye contact with you through it, and presses a kiss to your shoulder blade before he looks back down to line himself up.
your mouth falls open as he presses in, this new angle allowing him to push even deeper into your cunt. max barely gives you a second to adjust before he’s gripping your hips and ramming into you again, picking up the same pace as before.
lifting your gaze to watch him in the mirror, you can see he’s still staring at the necklace bouncing against your tits, just through the reflection now, instead of straight on. his cock hits your g-spot every time he rams into you, and when you close your eyes, you swear you’re seeing stars.
his fingers are digging into your hips hard, manipulating your body to whichever way brings the most pleasure for you both. his hands shift their grip slightly, and you cry out. the fingerprints he’s left hurt.
one of his feet nudges yours out, forcing your stance wider. now it feels like he’s in your lungs; every thrust of his cock harder than the last, stealing your breath away. a glance up at the mirror sees complete lust in his eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open as he fucks you from behind. his gaze darts from the jewels around your neck to the ones on your fingers, then to the ones on your wrists, and back to your neck again.
max’s hand snakes around your front, fingers on your clit before you even realise his arm’s moved at all. the roughness of his fingerpads makes your knees buckle, and he has to keep you upright, his other arm wrapping around your waist.
you can feel waves of euphoria peaking in you, and your pussy clenches for him again, desperately needy for an orgasm that’s just within reach.
“don’t stop,” you beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
he gathers your hair in his fist and yanks your head back in lieu of a verbal reply, a soft kiss pressed to your forehead a stark juxtaposition to his rough treatment of you otherwise. his thrusts get deeper, more purposeful, as his fingers work furiously. you can barely keep your head up anymore, body weak and mind muddled by the pleasure he’s overwhelming you with.
“max, i’m gonna- fuck, i’m gonna come!”
his hand jolts a little each time he rams his full length into you, but his fingers don’t stop their tight circles on your clit, determined to push you over the edge right this second.
your back arches as you come for him, and you can’t stop the borderline pornographic moans that he forces out of you. your legs shake as he fucks you through it, and you can just hear his murmured praises over the ringing in your ears.
“perfect, schatje. so good for me.”
max’s lips trail along your back and shoulders as he waits for the aftershocks to pass, stopping more than once to mouth at the clasp sitting at the base of your neck, tongue and teeth playing with the cold metal.
“will you keep being good for me?”
you grind back on his cock as you whine tiredly, too exhausted to use your words. he responds in kind, free hand flying back up to your hip to control your body for his free use.
your nails leave shallow scratches in the wood of the vanity as you hold on for dear life, bejwelled rings surely leaving indents in your skin as you squeeze your fingers together. his hands, entwined in your hair and gripping your hip, work together to better impale you on his cock.
a flash of tiffany blue in the mirror catches your eye as you’re railed within an inch of your life. your brand new necklace box is sitting empty on the dresser, ribbons undone from when you’d opened your gift only an hour ago. there are at least a dozen other jewellery boxes dotted around the room, all gifted to you through the many years you’ve known max, and all empty now also; their contents placed delicately on each part of your body by max as part of this unique but ubiquitous ritual in your relationship.
max interrupts your recollection by pulling out of you hurriedly, a loud squelch bringing a flush to your cheeks as he leaves your wet hole, now gaping from the form of his cock pounding into you. he beckons you to the floor, and you kneel down how you know he wants you to, staring up at the underside of his cock as he starts jacking himself off furiously, chasing fiercely after his own orgasm.
the sound of his hand on cock becomes wetter and louder as your come is smeared all over his grip. despite coming only a few minutes ago, your pussy clenches on air, begging for a cock in her again.
a moan is ripped from max’s throat suddenly, louder than any other sound he’s made tonight, and his head falls back. you shut your eyes in preparation, but he doesn’t aim for your face.
instead, hot ropes of come land on your necklace, creamy white smearing against sparkling diamonds. his eyes flutter back open; his cock twitches and he almost chokes on a sharp inhale as he takes in the state of your jewellery, now soiled by his seed.
you drag a finger across your collarbones and bring it to your lips, licking his come off. he watches you do so, eyes dark and intense. you can tell he’s debating whether to push you onto the bed and go for round two, but ultimately, his hand comes down to help you up instead, already spent. you take it, stretching your knees out from being pushed onto the carpet.
“you know you don’t need to fuck me every time you buy me a new piece of jewellery, right?”
his focus drops to your new pearl necklace before he frowns and tilts his head at you, like you’ve started speaking in another language.
“what’s the point of me buying it then?”
enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹
summary: Max just wants to have some sexy time but you have adorable unwanted visitors in the bedroom.
warnings: none! Suggestive topics via Max. Possibly some spelling errors..
author’s note: I’ve been busy lately and have been struggling to write, so pls take this drabble/short fic as a peace offering☺️
It was a lazy day in Monaco.
The sun beamed through the curtains of your window in your shared bedroom. The covers enveloped your and Max’s bodies, your legs tangled together, and your back flush against his. His head was shoved into the crook of your neck, one arm underneath your neck, and the other snaked tightly around your waist.
As helpful the comforter was at protecting you from the AC that had been on all night, Max was the perfect human heater you could ever ask for. You didn’t have to worry about getting too cold at night because Max helped balance your body temperature with how warm he got. Throughout the night, his arms somehow stayed wrapped around you. His nose was often nuzzled against your neck, your hair, and sometimes your chest when he’s managed to become the little spoon overnight.
Just a few minutes ago, you had woken up to the scents of Max and fresh linen filling your senses. Something that always sent a warm feeling in the pits of your stomach, much similar to butterflies. The two scents mixed together meant your love was home after weeks of traveling and finally sleeping peacefully beside you—a feeling both you and Max took great pleasure in.
You tried to stretch as best as you could in Max’s hold, though your actions only caused the man beside you to squeeze you tighter. You reached behind your head to gently run your hand through his hair. A small groan, almost similar to a whine, emitted from your boyfriend.
His body tensed against yours as he attempted to stretch the sleep out of his bones, his head only burying further into the crook of your neck.
“Don’t get up yet, schatje.” He mumbled against your skin, his voice still rough. You hummed in response, bringing the hand he had around your waist to your lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of his hand.
“I’m not planning on getting up anytime soon, Maxie.” You turn in his arms, finally facing him. He truly looked adorable in his current state. His hair was ruffled, sticking in a couple of different directions. His lips were in a slight pout and his eyes were puffy from sleep.
His eyes remained closed but his arms were quick to wrap tightly around you. You smiled seeing him so relaxed. Often after race weekends, especially the ones you were not able to attend, Max came home very clingy. He wanted to spend every waking moment with you, holding you at all times, and being in your company. You never had a problem with it, in fact, you found it extremely endearing. It was a side he saved for you and only you. He was your giant, cuddly, teddy bear.
You pressed light kisses against his face, causing the corner of his lips to rise in a smile. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before looking down at you.
“Hi, schatje.” He greeted softly, crimson lips set in a sweet smile. You giggled at him, “Good morning, Maxie.”
You squealed as he suddenly forced his body on top of yours, pushing your back against the mattress. His sudden burst of energy nearly knocking the wind out of you.
“Oh my god, I missed this.” He mused, resting his body weight atop yours and shoving his face into your chest. He dug his face deeper, his nose basically between the crevices of your breasts.
“I missed you too, you goof.” You laughed, lovingly running your hands through his hair. Max reciprocated your actions by stroking your sides with his rough hands, pressing tiny kisses above your breasts and any other surface of your skin he could reach.
“Just wanna stay in bed all day.” Max said against your skin, talking between his kisses. “No paddle *kiss*, no driving on the sim *kiss*, no working out *kiss*, no work emails *kiss*, nothing!”
“We need food.” You interjected, quickly adding, “You also need to feed the cats.”
Max huffed, he’s managed to reach your stomach now. Resting his chin on the soft surface of your tummy, he looked up at you with his addicting blue eyes, shades of turquoise and grey bursting in them.
“Jimmy and Sassy can wait a few minutes longer.” He grumbled, one of his hand searching for yours. When he finds it, he places a kiss into your palm, and guides your hand to his hair. Taking the hint, you run your fingers through the strands again.
“I don’t think they’ll mind if I eat first.” Max’s voice dropped an octave, an underlying tone of arousal—in more simpler words—horniness.
He began to kiss on the exposed skin beneath your (his) lifted shirt, his thumbs stroking circles into your hips, as he drifted lower beneath the sheets. Your hand remained in his hair, pulling lightly at the strands. It was a habit of yours that he liked, but something he craved even more during intimate moments. Especially when you roughly tugged on it, encouraging him and his acts of love.
“Your cats are persistent.” You hummed, Max finally inching closer towards your lower region. You bit your finger in amusement, glancing at the two Bengals hanging out in their cat tower behind Max.
As much as you wanted to have sex with your boyfriend, you were not going to do the nasty while your shared cats stared at the both of you, waiting to be fed.
“I’m persistent too, schatje.” Max claimed, squeezing your bum with one of his hands. Still unaware at the two cats glaring daggers at him. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
“Not as much as Jimmy and Sassy, baby.” You shook your head, adjusting yourself to sit up. Max whined at you moving away from him. He was beginning to wonder why you were so concerned with the cats, especially while he was trying to go down on you.
“They’ll be fine, schat, I’ll even put some more food in their bowls for waiting.” He assured you, trying his best to keep the built up tension.
“Baby please I need you.” He crawled up your body until you were face to face. You placed a teasing kiss on his pouted lips before cradling his jaw, “Trust me Maxie, I need you too.”
You gently turned his face to look behind him, “But we are not fucking in front of the cats.”
You felt Max deflate against you, “Oh, for fucks sake!”
He groaned and dramatically threw himself on the mattress beside you. You bursted out laughing, very much killing the sexual tension.
You tried to pry off Max’s hands from covering his face, “Aww, it’s okay Maxie.”
You were still fighting off some giggles, not helping Max’s situation. Max refused to take his hands off his face. Only rushing to grab the decorative pillow beside him to cover his hard on.
“Baby.” You cooed. Max huffed in response.
“Maxie.” You sang, poking his side. He jolted, but smacked your hand away from his side, “No.”
“Maxie, I promise we can get some me and you time later.” You reassured him, stroking his stomach. He finally took his hands off his face, revealing a very flushed faced.
“I just wanted some morning sex.” He pouted. You chuckled at him and moved to kiss his cheek.
“Me too, baby. But we can’t always get what we want.” You teased him, patting his warm chest, and hopping out of bed. Max continued to pout, watching as you sauntered out the bedroom.
“I have the hottest girlfriend in the world and I still managed to get cockblocked under my own roof.” Max said to himself, staring at the ceiling.
He sat up, pillow still covering his boner.
Jimmy and Sassy remained in their cat tower, waiting for Max to get out of bed.
“You guys are the worse roommates ever.” Max announced, causing you to burst out laughing from the kitchen.
Sleep, ignore his phone and sim racing until his eyes felt like they were being fried in a pan.
Everyone else treated the F1 winter break like a spiritual reset. Beach holidays, fancy dinners, ski trips, matching pajama photos with their girlfriends, gym videos where they pretended to enjoy cardio.
Max had done none of that.
He had landed in Monaco, unpacked approximately half of his suitcase, stepped over the rest of it for three days straight, and then basically fused himself to his sim setup.
It was perfect.
He had one headset, multiple screens, one drink, and one beautiful opportunity to ruin strangers' evenings online.
He was streaming, too, mostly because his friends had bullied him into it.
"People like watching you be grumpy," Joel had said over the phone.
"I am not grumpy."
Joel had laughed so hard Max had hung up.
So now here he was, live to thousands of people, sitting in his room with his hoodie sleeves pushed up, his hair a little messy, his face lit up by the glow of three monitors while the chat moved fast.
"Okay," Max said, clicking into the next lobby. "We do one more race, then I am done for the night."
The chat immediately went off.
ONE MORE = TEN MORE
LIAR
MAX YOU SAID THAT TWO HOURS AGO
blink twice if sim racing owns you
Max leaned closer to the screen and squinted. "I can stop whenever I want."
The chat spammed laughing emojis.
He ignored them, very maturely, and entered the lobby.
For exactly four seconds, everything was peaceful, until he saw a username.
Amyra1655
Max went still and his jaw tightened.
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
The chat lost its mind.
SHE'S HERE
AMYRAAAA
THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED
MAX'S WORST NIGHTMARE
HERE WE GO
Max stared at the name. Amyra1655 had become a problem. Not a little problem...a serious, irritating, deeply inconvenient, makes him want to log off but he would rather die problem.
She had appeared in one of his lobbies two weeks into winter break, driving like someone who had no fear, no manners, and no concern for Max's blood pressure. She was fast. Annoyingly fast. Not reckless, not sloppy.
She braked late enough to be offensive. Defended like she was guarding royal jewels. And the worst part was that she talked...a lot.
Not nervous talking. Not fan talking. Not "oh my god Max Verstappen" talking. Trash talking, directed mainly at him.
The first time she had overtaken him, she had calmly said over voice chat, "Sorry, was that the 4 time F1 world champion? I thought it was old lady traffic."
Max had nearly crashed into a wall...not because of the overtake, because of the disrespect.
Since then, she had become unavoidable. Every other lobby, there she was. Same username. Same calm voice. Same ability to make Max want to throw his headset directly into the marina.
He had no idea who she was.
He had asked once.
She had said, "Someone faster than you."
He had not asked again.
Now, her little mic icon lit up.
"Oh good," came Amyra's voice. "The Dutch roadblock is here."
Max closed his eyes for half a second.
The chat went feral.
DUTCH ROADBLOCK
SHE CAME READY
AMYRA 1 MAX 0
Max leaned into his microphone. "You know, most people say hello...brat."
"Hello, Dutch roadblock."
"That is not better."
"It felt better to me."
Max huffed, selecting his setup. He could already feel his mood shifting. Not bad, exactly. Just sharper. Like his brain had been half asleep before and now someone had thrown ice water on it.
That was the infuriating part. Racing random people was fun, racing Amyra was personal.
"You are starting P8?" he asked, looking at the qualifying order.
"Yeah," she said. "I wanted to give you a chance."
Max actually laughed, but it came out more like a scoff. "You qualified P8 because you are slow."
"I qualified P8 because someone spun in sector two and I had to avoid him."
"Sounds like excuses."
"Sounds like you're scared."
"I am on pole."
"And yet you're worried about me from P8. That's embarrassing for you."
Max's mouth opened, then closed.
The chat was unbearable.
SHE ATE
MAX BUFFERING
AMYRA HAS HIM FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE
"You are lucky this is not real life."
"Why?" Amyra asked sweetly. "Would you complain to the stewards faster?"
"Oh my god."
The countdown began.
"Okay," Max muttered. "Now we race."
Lights out.
He got a good launch. He led into turn one, defended the inside, and settled quickly into it. For the first few laps, he didn't even check where Amyra was.
He did not care. He absolutely did not care.
Then the timing tower updated.
Amyra1655: P5.
Max frowned. "How?"
Her mic lit up. "You miss me, lion boy?"
"I was enjoying the silence."
"Liar. You were looking for me."
"I was not looking."
"Max, you literally slowed down in sector three."
"I had traffic."
"You are traffic."
He gritted his teeth, but he was smiling despite himself, which annoyed him even more.
Lap six and Amyra was P3.
The chat was moving so quickly he couldn't read any of it.
Max focused ahead. He had a gap. Not huge, but enough.
Some automated sound had informed him that Amyra had set the fastest lap.
Max stared at the sector times. "No."
"Oh yes," Amyra said.
"I was not talking to you."
"You were thinking about me though."
"I promise you I was not."
"You promise a lot for someone checking my lap times."
Max took turn four slightly too aggressively and clipped the curb.
The car twitched and the chat went wild again.
SHE'S IN HIS HEAD
MENTAL WARFARE
MAX PLEASE STAY STRONG
He caught the car and exhaled through his nose. "Okay, Amyra."
"Oh, using my name now. Serious business."
"You want serious?"
"No, I want you to panic. It's funnier."
He laughed once. "You are so annoying."
"And yet here we are."
By lap ten, she was right behind him. P2..of course.
She didn't attack immediately. That was what made it worse. A reckless driver would've thrown it down the inside and prayed. Amyra waited. She sat close enough to pressure him, close enough to make him think, but not close enough to be stupid.
Max recognized it. He hated that he respected it.
"You are quiet," Amyra said.
"I am concentrating."
"On not losing?"
"On not falling asleep."
"You sound stressed."
"I sound normal."
"Do you even know what normal is?"
Max nearly missed his braking point because he laughed.
"Do you ever shut up?"
"No."
"Good to know."
"You asked."
"Unfortunately."
She pulled alongside him on the straight.
Max defended, but she stayed there. Wheel to wheel into the corner.
He gave her just enough space. She gave him just enough back.
For half a second, the whole thing felt less like two people fighting and more like they were speaking the same language at exactly the same time.
Then she edged ahead and Max immediately tucked into her slipstream.
"Oh no," she said. "Is this where you get emotional?"
"I am going to enjoy this overtake."
"You have to actually do it first."
He waited. One corner, two. She defended the inside, he switched back and she anticipated it.
He cursed under his breath.
The chat had become one giant wall of screaming.
Max attacked again on the next straight. She moved once, blocking the obvious line. He went wide, carried speed, tried to sweep around the outside.
For one beautiful second, he had it. Then she braked later, still made the corner and still kept the car within track limits.
Max stared. "No, no, no."
Amyra's mic lit. "Did you just get outbraked by a woman using a controller?"
Max froze.
A CONTROLLER????
NO WAY
MAX END STREAM
SHE SAID WITH A CONTROLLER I AM CRYING
MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU ARE FINISHED
Max blinked. "You are using a controller?"
Amyra sounded delighted. "Did I forget to mention that?"
"You are not using a controller."
"I am."
"No."
"Yes."
"You are lying."
"I can send a picture."
"Do not send a picture."
"Because it will hurt?"
"Because I do not care."
"You care so much."
Max wanted to argue, but honestly, he did care. He cared deeply. He cared in a way that was frankly embarrassing.
He chased her for the remaining laps with the intensity of a man seeking revenge. His braking got sharper. His exits cleaner. The gap closed, opened, closed again. Amyra stayed cool the entire time, making tiny corrections, defending without desperation.
Last lap and Max saw the chance. Amyra went a little deep into the second to last corner. Not much.
He cut underneath, got better traction, and pulled alongside her down the short run to the final turn.
"Don't do something stupid," she warned.
"I never do stupid things."
"That is the funniest thing you've said all night."
They were side by side and Max held his line. For one second, he thought he had it.
Then she edged ahead by practically nothing as they crossed the line.
P1: Amyra1655.
P2: MaxV3.
The silence on Max's stream was immediate.
Amyra inhaled. "Wow."
Max stared at the results screen. "Do not."
"Imagine being a four time F1 world champion-"
"Amyra."
"-with a full sim setup..."
"I swear to god."
"-and losing to a girl on a controller during winter break."
Max pushed his headset slightly off one ear and looked directly into his camera with dead eyes.
The chat was gone. Completely gone. Just a blur of laughing, crying, screaming, clown emojis, goat emojis, and people typing AMYRA1655 SUPREMACY in all caps.
Amyra wasn't done. "Good race though."
Max narrowed his eyes. "Do not patronize me."
"I'm being nice."
"You are being impossible."
"You bring that out in me."
He didn't have a comeback for that...which was annoying.
For the next few weeks, it only got worse. Amyra1655 became a permanent fixture in his winter.
He told himself it was coincidence...it was not. If he logged on and she wasn't there, he checked another lobby. If she beat him, he demanded another race. If he beat her, she said something ridiculous like, "Congratulations, you finally used your resources," and he immediately wanted to race again.
Their rivalry became a thing online.
Clips spread everywhere...Max scoffing at her insults. Amyra calling him "Mad Max" only when he was, in fact, mad. Him saying, "You have no racecraft," right after she outmaneuvered three cars. Her replying, "And yet you keep following me around like a lost golden retriever."
The internet loved it.
Max pretended not to notice...but he noticed everything.
One night, after she beat him again by two tenths, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face.
"Who even are you?" he asked.
Amyra hummed. "Someone faster than you."
"You always say that."
"And it's always true."
"It is not always true."
"It means you understood it and got annoyed, so actually it means everything."
Max stared at his monitor, lips pressed together. Then he laughed. He didn't mean to, it just happened.
"Wow, finally."
"What?"
"You laugh like once every nine business days. I was starting to worry."
Max rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed. "I laugh."
"At people crashing."
"Still counts."
"Barely."
For one weird second, neither of them said anything mean...and Max noticed the silence.
He noticed how late it was. How his soda had gone warm. How he had been planning to log off two hours ago but was still there because Amyra was there.
That annoyed him, too. So he cleared his throat and said, "One more race."
Amyra laughed. "You're obsessed with me."
"I am obsessed with winning."
"Same thing, lately."
"Join the lobby."
"Yes, sir."
Max's hand slipped slightly on the wheel.
The chat, unfortunately, noticed.
DID HE FREEZE
MAX?
MAX???
SIR GOT HIM
HE'S INTO THAT FREAKY TALK!!
Max coughed. "Do not call me that."
Amyra sounded way too pleased. "Noted."
"I mean it."
"Sure."
"I will mute you."
"You won't."
He didn't.
Then came the announcement from his private PR team.
There would major sim racing event in London. Big sponsors. Big stream. Real drivers, esports racers, creators, guests. Red Bull was involved, so Max had to go. He complained for two straight days, but privately, one thing made it almost tolerable.
Amyra1655 was on the invite list. Her username was there, sitting casually among professional racers and popular streamers.
Max read it three times.
Finally, he would know. Finally, he would put a face to the voice that had spent half of winter break ruining his peace.
He expected someone cocky. Maybe a professional driver from another category. Maybe a college student with terrifying reflexes and too much free time.
He did not expect what he got.
The event space was loud when he arrived. Bright screens, rigs lined up on a stage, cameras moving around, people with headsets and clipboards rushing from one place to another. Max walked in wearing a custom black red bull shirt and slacks, trying very hard to look like he was not scanning the room.
He shook hands, nodded at people.
Took a photo or ten and pretended to listen to someone explain the schedule while his eyes kept drifting toward the competitors' area.
"Max?"
He looked over.
The event coordinator smiled. "You'll be seated next to Amyra for the opening segment. You two have great chemistry online."
Max almost choked. "We do not have chemistry."
The coordinator laughed like he had made a joke...but Max was not joking.
Then he saw her.
She was standing near one of the rigs, arms crossed loosely, talking to someone from production. Long hair falling over her shoulders, tight black pants and a fitted white top. She looked calm.
She turned slightly and her eyes landed on him.
Max stopped walking. Because Amyra1655 was not a smug college girl.
She was a woman...a very pretty woman, nearly around his age. A very pretty woman who looked at Max, recognized him instantly, and did not look impressed even a little bit.
Instead, her mouth curved.
That same voice he had heard through his headset for weeks reached him from across the room. "Oh no."
Max stared.
She walked toward him, smiling like this was the funniest thing that had ever happened to her. "You're actually Max Verstappen."
For once, Max had absolutely nothing to say.
Amyra stopped in front of him, tilted her head, and looked him over, then she held out her hand.
"Amyra," she said, as if he didn't already know. "The girl with the controller."
Max looked at her hand, then at her face. Then, finally, he took it.
Her handshake was firm, but her smile was deadly.
And Max, still holding her hand a second longer than needed, had the horrifying realization that his winter break had just become a much bigger problem.
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Max had spent the entire flight home from London trying to convince himself that meeting Amyra had changed absolutely nothing.
Nothing...not a single thing.
She was still annoying, still talked too much, still drove him insane. Still somehow managed to beat him in races while making fun of him at the same time.
The only difference now was that he knew what she looked like.
That was it...nothing else.
Definitely not the fact that he kept remembering her smile. Or how she'd looked completely unfazed by him being Max Verstappen.
Nope...didn't matter...t all.
Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to test that theory.
Because exactly four days later, Red Bull called.
"Absolutely not."
His marketing manager sighed. "Max."
"No."
"Please listen first."
"I already know it's stupid."
"How?"
"Because you called me during my break."
There was silence, then another sigh.
"...we'd like you and Amyra to do a content series."
Max immediately sat up straighter. "What?"
"Fans love your dynamic."
"No they don't."
"Max."
"They love watching her annoy me."
"Exactly."
"That is not a good thing."
"It gets views."
Max pinched the bridge of his nose...of course it got views.
Every clip involving Amyra somehow exploded online. There were entire compilations now.
Amyra1655 bullying Max Verstappen for 12 minutes straight.
Max Verstappen losing arguments to Amyra.
Best Amyra and Max moments.
He hated every single one and definitely hadn't watched them...not even once.
Three days later he was sitting in a studio in Milton Keynes wondering where his life had gone wrong.
Amyra arrived fifteen minutes late.
"Look who it is."
Max groaned. "There she is."
"The loser."
"You won by half a tenth."
"A win is a win."
"You say that because you have very few of them."
Amyra gasped as the production crew immediately started laughing.
One of the camera operators whispered..."Oh this is going to be good."
It got worse, much worse.
The first challenge involved racing each other while answering trivia questions.
Amyra somehow managed to do both, but Max couldn't understand it.
"Which country has won the most Formula One championships?"
"United Kingdom."
"Correct."
"Can you stop answering so fast?" Max asked.
"No."
"You're distracting me."
Amyra grinned. "Sounds like a skill issue."
He nearly drove into a barrier.
The producers were crying laughing.
The second challenge was somehow worse.
Anonymous internet comments. A giant screen displayed random fan comments. They had to react, simple.
Or so Max thought.
The first few were normal, then one appeared.
JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY
Amyra laughed so hard she nearly slid off her chair.
"Oh my God."
The producer was wheezing.
Max stared at the screen, then at Amyra. For some reason...he wasn't finding it quite as funny.
"Relax," she managed.
"I'm relaxed."
"You look like you're about to file a complaint."
The producer pulled up another comment.
THEY ARGUE LIKE A MARRIED COUPLE
Amyra immediately pointed at the screen.
"See?"
"No."
"That's literally what this says."
"We do not."
"You absolutely do."
"We absolutely don't."
Amyra slowly turned toward the producer. "See?"
The producer nodded. "She's got a point."
Max wanted a time refund on the entire day.
The problem started after that, not immediately...slowly. Which was somehow worse.
Because at first it felt normal. Just messages, race invites, a few jokes...nothing weird.
Then somehow it became daily.
One night Max was testing setups and his phone buzzed.
Amyra.
you're using the wrong rear wing
Max frowned.
how would you know?
Three dots appeared instantly.
because i know everything
that isn't an answer
and yet it was accurate
He changed the setup...and she was right.
Another night he couldn't sleep because of jet lag. He was lying in bed scrolling aimlessly till 2:13 AM.
A notification appeared from Amyra.
are you awake
yes
why
couldn't sleep
same
Three dots...then...
want to race?
Max was already getting out of bed.
After that...it kept happening.
Late night calls, gaming sessions, texts, voice notes.
Sometimes they raced...sometimes they just talked. Their conversations became longer, more comfortable. Which honestly should've worried him.
One evening they were both waiting for delayed flights. Amyra was stuck in Scotland while Max was stuck in Barcelona.
They ended up on a video call for three hours talking about absolutely nothing.
Amyra was laughing about something when Max realized he hadn't checked the time once. Not once...and that realization felt dangerous. So naturally he ignored it.
Then came the problem, and his name was Ethan...or Evan...or something equally annoying.
Max wasn't paying attention. Because the actual issue wasn't the guy. The issue was Amyra mentioning him.
They were gaming and Amyra was talking.
"...and then Ethan told me-"
Max interrupted. "Who?"
"Ethan."
Silence.
"Okay."
Amyra frowned. "Okay?"
"Yeah."
"That's it?"
"What else?"
She squinted. "You're weird."
"I'm not weird."
"You sounded weird."
"I'm literally sitting here."
"Exactly."
The next time it happened was worse.
Because she mentioned grabbing coffee with Ethan and Max immediately lost concentration.
Crashed. straight into a wall.
Amyra burst out laughing. "No way."
Max removed one hand from the wheel. "I got distracted."
"You drove into a barrier."
"I made a mistake."
"Because I mentioned Ethan."
"No."
"Max."
"No."
"MAX."
He muted himself and Amyra called him out immediately.
The third time she mentioned Ethan was during a group stream.
And for some reason Max felt himself getting increasingly annoyed because the guy sounded perfect.
Amyra laughed at something Ethan had texted and suddenly Max was in a terrible mood.
The worst part? He didn't understand why...at least that's what he told himself.
The breaking point came two weeks later when they were in another online race.
The tension had been building for days, which Amyra noticed.
"Okay." Her voice came through the headset. "What's your problem?"
"No problem."
"Lie."
"Nope."
"You've been weird for two weeks."
"I'm normal."
"You're impossible."
Max said nothing and Amyra sighed.
"Is this about Ethan?"
The fact she asked immediately somehow made it worse.
"No."
"It is."
"No."
"It literally is."
Max gripped the wheel tighter.
"Max."
Nothing.
"Max."
Still nothing.
Then she sighed again.
"Fine."
The race continued, then Amyra spoke again...softer this time.
"Did I do something to upset you?"
And that...that hit differently. Because suddenly she sounded hurt.
Max's frustration boiled over, not because of her, because of himself. Because he couldn't figure out what was happening inside his own head.
"Go talk to Ethan..."
The words came out harsher than intended.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No."
Her voice hardened. "What does that mean?"
Max knew he should stop...he didn't.
"If he's so great."
Silence.
"Oh."
Amyra's voice was ice cold now. "That's what this is."
Max immediately regretted everything. "Forget it."
"No."
"No, actually."
"Forget I asked."
"Amyra-"
"No."
For the first time since he'd met her...she sounded angry.
"You know what?" she said.
"If you have something to say, say it."
Max stared at the screen. Because the truth wasn't something he was ready to say...not even close.
Neither spoke for the rest of the race.
The next day there were no texts, then another...nothing.
A week of nothing turned into two weeks, then three...and Max hated it.
The racing wasn't fun anymore. The streams felt quieter, the jokes weren't there. The arguments weren't there.
Everything felt...off.
One night he sat down to stream. Not because he wanted to, because he was bored.
The chat immediately started asking questions.
Where's Amyra?
Did you guys fight?
Is Amyra joining?
Max ignored all of them as the race lobby loaded.
He barely looked at the participant list. Until...
His breath caught.
Amyra1655.
The chat exploded.
Max stared at the username, then waited. The little microphone icon stayed dark. No greeting, no joke, nothing.
For the first time since meeting her...he realized exactly what he'd been missing. Not the competition or the banter...just her.
And sitting there staring at a stupid username on a screen...
Max felt something that was a lot scarier than losing to her. Because he wasn't worried about getting beaten. He was worried she might not want him in her life anymore.
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Max had not spoken to Amyra in twenty three days. Not properly, at least.
There had been no late night races. No stupid voice notes. No messages at 2AM telling him his setup was embarrassing. No random screenshots of her leaderboard position with a caption like, sleep well, loser.
Nothing.
At first, Max convinced himself it was fine. Actually, he convinced himself it was good.
His phone wasn't buzzing constantly. His streams weren't being hijacked by some woman with a controller and an attitude problem. His chat wasn't screaming about Amyra1655 every five seconds. He could race without hearing, "Careful, Max, your ego is showing," in his headset.
It should've been nice...but it was not nice.
It was awful. He hated how quiet everything felt.
He hated that every lobby looked wrong without her username in it. He hated that he'd open his messages without thinking, then immediately feel stupid when there was nothing there. He hated that whenever something mildly funny happened, his first thought was still that Amyra would have made an annoying comment about it.
The worst part was the racing. Max still won, obviously. He still streamed. Still showed up. Still did his usual thing.
But it wasn't the same.
There was no one pushing him just hard enough to make him sharper. No one baiting him into ridiculous arguments mid race. No one calling him 'Dutch traffic' when he defended too aggressively.
And Max was not dramatic. He refused to be dramatic. But there was something deeply humiliating about realizing he missed being insulted by her.
He'd almost messaged her a dozen times...almost.
He would open the chat, stare at the empty message box, type something painfully stupid like, racing tonight? and then delete it.
Because what was he supposed to say?
Sorry I acted like a jealous idiot because you mentioned some guy named Ethan and I apparently lost control of my entire personality?
No. Absolutely not.
He would rather drive into a wall...again.
So he said nothing. Amyra said nothing. And the silence stretched until it became something heavy and ugly sitting between them.
By the time an actual race weekend in Silverstone came, Max had almost convinced himself he was over it...almost.
Then he walked into the Red Bull motorhome on Thursday morning and heard someone from marketing say her name.
He stopped dead. "What?"
The woman with the clipboard looked up. "Sorry?"
"What did you say?"
She blinked, clearly confused by how aggressively he'd appeared out of nowhere. "Amyra? The popular streaming gamer...she's arriving this afternoon."
Max stared at her. "Amyra."
"Yes. The sim racer from the winter content series?"
"I know who she is."
"Red Bull invited her for Silverstone. The fan response to your content together was huge, so she's here for some paddock filming, livestream bits, hospitality appearances. Nothing too intense."
Nothing too intense...Max nearly laughed. Because nothing about Amyra had ever been 'not too intense.'
"When was this decided?" he asked.
"A couple weeks ago."
A couple weeks ago. So Red Bull had known Amyra would be at Silverstone for weeks, and nobody had mentioned it to him.
Great. Amazing. Perfect.
Max nodded once, turned around, and walked straight back out. He made it all the way to his driver room before shutting the door and standing there like an idiot.
Amyra was coming to Silverstone. Amyra, who hadn't spoken to him in twenty three days. Amyra, who he had last heard go cold and quiet after he snapped at her. Amyra, who he missed so badly it had started to annoy him on a cellular level.
He dragged a hand over his face.
"Fucking fantastic," he muttered to himself. "Very normal."
It got worse that afternoon...because he didn't even get a warning.
He was walking through the paddock with his hat low, half listening to someone from the team talk about filming times, when the noise shifted.
A few people turned their heads. Someone laughed. A Red Bull media girl waved excitedly toward the entrance.
Max looked over before he could stop himself and there she was.
Amyra.
For a second, his brain simply refused to cooperate. She looked gorgeous, so gorgeous that it actually irritated him.
She was wearing dark jeans that fit her perfectly, black boots, and a cropped Red Bull jacket over a white top. Her hair was down, moving slightly in the wind, and there were sunglasses resting on her head like she had just casually walked in and ruined his life without even trying.
She was smiling at someone from the team, not at him.
That made something tighten in his chest. Stupid, so stupid.
He stood there like a total idiot, watching her hug one of the content producers.
Then Amyra turned and her eyes found him. The smile faded, just a little. Not fully, but just enough that he saw the wall go up.
Amyra was the first to break eye contact. She turned back to the producer and said something Max couldn't hear, then she walked away.
Max's jaw tightened.
"Mate," Isack's voice appeared beside him, far too cheerful.
Max didn't look at him. "Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
Daniel looked toward Amyra, then back at Max. His grin widened. "Oh, I was definitely going to."
Max walked away, but Isack followed because he had no survival instinct.
"So that's Amyra."
"No."
"No?"
"No talking."
"I can see why you've been so emotionally unwell."
Max stopped walking and looked at him.
Daniel held up both hands. "Respectfully."
"Go away."
"Gladly. But before I do, you should probably fix whatever that was."
"There is nothing to fix."
Isack gave him a look.
Max hated that look. It was the same look people gave him when they knew he was lying and were enjoying it way too much.
"Sure," Daniel said, then he left.
The weekend became torture after that...because Amyra was everywhere.
In hospitality, talking to Red Bull guests like she hadn't spent weeks ruining Max's peace. In the garage, watching FP1 from the back with a headset on, arms crossed, focused in a way that made him remember exactly why she'd been so dangerous online. At the sim setup for a content segment, laughing with some reserve driver who clearly thought she was the coolest person on earth.
Max noticed all of it...every smile, every laugh, every time she didn't look at him. And Amyra knew he noticed, that was the worst part.
Because she wasn't avoiding him completely. That would've been easier. She was polite and polite Amyra was evil.
"Good luck this weekend," she said when they passed each other Friday morning.
Max slowed slightly. "That's it?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Was I supposed to insult you?"
"Yes."
Her mouth twitched. For one second, there she was...his Amyra, then the shutters came back down.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm sure you'll find someone else to bully you for free."
And she walked off while Max stood there, annoyed by how much that hurt.
Later, Red Bull forced them into a short livestream together...because of course they did. They sat side by side in front of a sim rig while the chat lost its mind.
AMYRA AND MAX BACK TOGETHER???
MOM AND DAD STOP FIGHTING
THE TENSION IS DISGUSTING
WHY ARE THEY SITTING SO FAR APART LMAO
Amyra looked at the comments and smiled sweetly. "Your fans are dramatic."
Max didn't look at her. "They're your fans now."
"I know. They have taste."
"You still use a controller."
"And you still bring it up because it hurt your feelings."
The crew behind the camera laughed.
Max looked at her then..big mistake. She was smiling, but not fully. It didn't reach her eyes the way it used to and he hated that too.
They raced one lap against each other for the stream. Amyra was quick. Still annoying. Still brave in the corners. Max beat her by a tenth.
The chat lost it.
Amyra leaned back in her chair and sighed dramatically. "Wow. Congratulations."
Max frowned. "Why do you sound like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're lying."
"I am lying."
The producer laughed, but Max didn't. Usually he would've said something back. Usually she would've kept going. Usually they would've been five insults deep by now, both pretending they weren't having the time of their lives.
Instead, the moment sat there awkwardly.
Amyra stood once the cameras cut. "Good race," she said.
Max caught her wrist before thinking. Not hard, just enough to stop her.
She looked down at his hand, then up at him.
Max let go. "Sorry."
Amyra nodded once. "It's fine."
It was not fine.
That night, Red Bull hosted a private dinner near the staff hotel. Nothing wild. Just team people, guests, sponsors, a few drivers and friends. Max almost didn't go, then hated himself for considering not going just because Amyra would be there.
So he went and immediately regretted it. Because Amyra was there, and apparently so was Ethan.
Max knew it was him before anyone told him. Maybe because of the way Ethan hugged her when he arrived. Maybe because Amyra smiled when she saw him. Maybe because Max's mood dropped so violently that even Isack looked at him like he'd become unsafe to sit near.
Ethan was tall. Annoyingly normal looking. Nice smile.
Max hated him instantly, not in a reasonable way. In a childish, embarrassing, deeply personal way.
Amyra and Ethan stood near the bar, talking easily. Ethan said something and Amyra laughed.
Max stared down at his drink. He could hear Amyra's laugh from across the room...of course he could. Because apparently his brain was now trained like a dog.
"Are you going to glare holes into him all night?" Isack asked.
Max didn't blink. "I'm not glaring."
"You look like you're trying to make his organs fail."
"He is annoying."
"You've never spoken to him."
"I can tell."
"You're doing great. Super normal."
Max turned away.
He lasted another twelve minutes. Twelve whole minutes of watching Ethan touch Amyra's elbow when he laughed. Watching Amyra lean in to hear him over the music. Watching her look relaxed in a way she hadn't looked around Max all weekend.
Then Ethan said something close to her ear, and Amyra smiled.
Max put his drink down and across the room, Amyra looked up.
Their eyes met, she knew...of course she knew. Amyra's smile slowly faded.
Then, without a word to Ethan, she stepped away from the bar and headed toward the corridor leading out to the quieter balcony area.
Max followed..he knew he was following. He knew it was obvious, but he did it anyway.
The balcony was mostly empty, tucked away from the dinner. Amyra walked to the railing and stopped, arms folded tightly like she was trying to hold herself together.
Max shut the door behind him, then Amyra turned around.
"Say it."
Max's jaw flexed. "Say what?"
"No." She shook her head, already angry. "Don't do that. Don't follow me out here, don't stare at me all night like I did something wrong, and then act like you have no idea what I'm talking about."
Max looked away, which only made her angrier.
"Look at me."
He did...bad idea. Her eyes were bright, furious, hurt. All of it.
"What do you want from me, Max?"
He hated how tired she sounded.
"I don't know."
"That's the problem. You never know, but somehow I'm the one who gets punished for it."
"I didn't punish you."
"You stopped talking to me."
"You stopped talking too."
"Because you were horrible to me."
Max went quiet.
"I mentioned Ethan and you acted like I had betrayed you. I asked if I did something wrong and you threw him in my face like I was supposed to understand what the hell was going on in your head."
Max swallowed hard because she wasn't wrong...that was the worst part.
She was angry and right.
"I didn't know what to say," he admitted.
Amyra stared at him. "You could've started with the truth."
"The truth is not always easy."
"No, Max. The truth is actually very easy. You just have to stop being stubborn long enough to say it."
He looked at her then, really looked at her, and every stupid excuse he had been clinging to fell apart.
Because there she was. Angry. Gorgeous. Hurt because of him...and he was tired.
Tired of pretending he didn't miss her. Tired of pretending Ethan didn't bother him. Tired of pretending he didn't wait for her name to pop up on his phone like some lovesick idiot.
Amyra held his stare.
"Either tell me what this is," she said quietly, "or leave me alone. I mean it this time."
That did it. The thought of leaving her alone, properly, for good, made panic flash through him so fast it almost pissed him off.
Max took one step closer. "Fine."
Amyra's breath caught slightly.
"I was jealous."
Amyra paused. For once, she didn't have a comeback ready.
Max kept going before he could lose his nerve.
"I hated hearing you talk about him. I hated that you laughed at his messages. I hated that when you said you were getting coffee with him, I cared so much I crashed into a wall like an idiot."
Her lips parted slightly.
"And then I hated myself for caring," he said, voice lower now. "Because I had no right to care. You were not mine. You could talk to whoever you wanted. You still can."
Amyra didn't move.
"But I didn't want you to."
The air changed. The anger was still there, but now something else moved underneath it. Something hotter. More dangerous.
Max stepped closer again.
"I wanted your messages. I wanted your calls. I wanted you in my races, annoying me until I couldn't think straight. I wanted you next to me in those stupid content videos. I wanted you laughing at me, even when it drove me crazy."
Amyra's voice came out softer. "Max..."
"No." He shook his head. "You told me to say it, so I am saying it."
Max looked at her like he was done hiding. "I like you."
The sentence was simple.
"I like you so much it has made me act insane for weeks," he said. "I missed you so badly that sim racing got boring. Do you know how annoying that is?"
Amyra's mouth twitched, there she was...just a little.
Max saw it and nearly lost his mind.
"And when I saw you today...I was angry."
"Because I was here?"
"No. Because you looked beautiful and you didn't even look happy to see me."
Amyra's expression softened, but only slightly. "I wasn't sure I was allowed to be happy to see you."
That hit him directly in the chest.
Max shook his head. "You are."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Because you're very difficult."
"I know."
"And emotionally confusing."
"I have been told."
"And jealous."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Careful."
Amyra's smile came back properly this time, small but real. "There he is."
Max took another step, and now there was barely any space left between them.
"Ethan is not my boyfriend," she said.
"I know that now."
"He's my friend."
"I know."
"He's also dating my cousin."
Max froze and Amyra watched the realization hit him.
Then she smiled wider.
Max closed his eyes. "No."
"Yes."
"Your cousin."
"My cousin."
He opened his eyes, and the look on his face made her laugh for the first time in weeks. God, he had missed that sound.
"You were jealous of my cousin's boyfriend," she said.
"Do not say it like that."
"How else should I say it?"
"Not at all."
Amyra laughed again, and Max couldn't help it. He smiled too, even though he was still embarrassed enough to walk into traffic.
"You could have told me," he muttered.
"You could have asked like a normal person."
"I am not normal."
"I noticed."
"You really missed me?"
Max's face softened before he could stop it. "Yes."
"Even my trash talk?"
"Especially your trash talk."
"Even when I called you Dutch traffic?"
"No."
She grinned.
He leaned closer. "Maybe."
Amyra's eyes dropped to his lips. It was quick, barely anything...but Max saw it and his entire body went still.
Amyra seemed to realize what she had done at the exact same time. Her smile fell, not because she was scared. Because the mood shifted too fast to ignore.
Max's voice was low when he said, "Do you like me?"
Amyra looked back up. There was the Amyra he knew. Stubborn..not giving him anything too easily.
"I thought that was obvious."
"I want to hear it."
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Max's eyes darkened slightly. "Say it."
Amyra stared at him and the challenge sat between them.
"I like you."
Max's jaw tightened. "Again."
Her heart started racing. "Max."
"Again, sweetheart."
Her cheeks blushed, but she didn't look away. "I like you."
His eyes dropped to her lips now, and this time he didn't bother hiding it.
"Good."
The word was so simple and so loaded that Amyra forgot how to breathe for a second.
Then Max reached for her. Just his hand sliding to her waist, pulling her in like he had been waiting weeks to do it and was done being patient.
Amyra's hands landed against his chest. For a second they just stood there, close enough to feel each other breathing.
Then she whispered, "You are so annoying."
Max's mouth curved. "You missed me."
"I did."
Max leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away, but Amyra didn't. When he kissed her, it felt like the argument continued in a different language.
Still stubborn...still heated...still them.
She kissed him back immediately, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, and Max made a low sound in his throat that sent heat straight through her. His hand tightened at her waist, pulling her closer, and she smiled against his mouth because of course Max kissed like he raced...focused, committed, and completely unwilling to lose.
He pulled back just enough to breathe and Amyra blinked up at him, dazed for half a second.
Then she whispered, "You really crashed because of Ethan?"
Max groaned. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No."
"Then stop talking about him."
She laughed. "Jealous."
"Yes..."
Her smile faded slightly, but Max didn't look away.
"I am jealous because it's you."
Amyra touched his face, thumb brushing lightly along his jaw. "You don't have to be."
Max's hand covered hers. "I know."
"Do you?"
"I am learning."
"Slowly."
He kissed her again, shorter this time, but no less intense. When he pulled away, his forehead rested briefly against hers.
The balcony door opened a crack, then closed again immediately when whoever it was realized the space was very much occupied.
Amyra's cheeks turned red and Max didn't even look embarrassed...of course he didn't.
Instead, he took her hand. "Come on."
"Where?"
He didn't answer right away. He led her back inside, but not toward the dinner. They slipped through the side corridor toward the hotel elevator attached to the venue.
Amyra followed, heart racing, hand still locked in his. When the elevator doors opened, Max stepped inside and pulled her with him.
The doors closed, then Amyra looked at him. "So are we done fighting?"
Max's eyes flicked to hers. "For tonight."
She laughed. "For tonight?"
"You will annoy me again tomorrow."
"Probably."
"I will still like you."
Amyra's smile softened.
Max's thumb moved slowly over her knuckles, and somehow that felt more dangerous than the kiss.
When the doors opened on the upper floor, he led her down the quiet hallway. At his door, he stopped. For a second, the old tension came back, but this time it wasn't angry...it was anticipation.
Max turned to face her. "You can still walk away," he said quietly.
Amyra's heart squeezed. She stepped closer, sliding her hand up his chest. "I don't want to."
Max's expression changed, that was all it took. The last bit of patience in him snapped.
He unlocked the door, pushed it open, and looked down at her with a dark, possessive kind of certainty that made her stomach flip.
"Inside...now."
Amyra's excitement sparked so fast she forgot every sarcastic response she had ever learned...so she smiled instead, then she stepped inside with him.
The door clicked shut and Max's hands were on her shoulders, turning her, and her back hit the door before she'd finished turning.
He caged her in with both arms, palms flat against the wood on either side of her head. He didn't touch her. Didn't kiss her. His eyes were doing that thing again, tracking over her face like he was memorizing it.
"Tell me you want this." His voice had gone rough at the edges. "I need to hear it."
He was asking. He was dominant, certain and already breathing harder than he had been thirty seconds ago, but he was asking.
"Yes." She didn't recognize her own voice. "I want this."
"Good." His eyes flicked to her lips again. "If you want me to stop, you say stop. If something is too much, you tell me. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Understand?"
She swallowed. "Yes. I understand."
"Good girl."
The praise landed hard. Amyra felt her knees actually go weak, the thing that happened in romance novels that she'd always assumed was exaggerated. It wasn't exaggerated. Her spine wanted to melt. Heat pooled low in her belly and her breath caught somewhere in her throat.
Max noticed. "You like that." Not a question.
She didn't bother denying it. "Yeah."
"Good to know." He pushed off the door and stepped back, giving her space, but his eyes stayed fixed on her. "Take off your dress for me, sweetheart."
Amyra reached for the zipper at her side and pulled it down. The dress fell and pooled at her feet.
She stood in black underwear and nothing else...no bra, because the dress had a built in thing and she'd figured, screw it, no one's going to see anyway.
Max's expression shifted. Something flickered behind the control...a crack in the certainty. His eyes moved from her collarbones to the swell of her breasts to the dip of her waist to the curve of her hips. He was savoring in her beauty.
"You're beautiful." His voice had gone quiet. "Do you know that?"
"I've been told."
"Not the same." He stepped closer again, one hand coming up to brush her hair back from her shoulder. His fingers barely grazed her skin. "I'm not telling you because I want something from you. I'm telling you because it's true. You're so fucking beautiful, Amyra."
The way he said her name. Like it mattered, like she mattered.
Her breath shuddered out of her. "Max-"
"Turn around for me."
She did. Faced the door, her palms finding the wood, her forehead nearly resting against it. Behind her, she heard him move. Felt him drop to his knees...
Then his hands were on her hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of her thong, and he pulled them down. The fabric slid over her thighs, her calves, and she stepped out of them automatically.
"Spread your legs."
She did. Shifted her feet wider, feeling the cool air of the room against the slick heat between her thighs. The exposure made her stomach clench...she was bent forward slightly, bracing against the wall, and he was behind her, on his knees, and she was completely bare and completely visible.
"Good." His palm flattened against the small of her back, pressing just enough to make her arch. "Stay like that for me."
And then his mouth was on her aching pussy.
Amyra's forehead hit the wall with a thud. His tongue...fuck, his tongue...tracing a slow, wet line from her clit to her entrance and back again, like he was learning the shape of her. Her hips jerked involuntarily and his hand tightened on her back, holding her steady.
"Max, oh god!"
He didn't answer. Just did it again. And again. Each stroke slightly different...firmer here, softer there, a flick of pressure that made her gasp, a slow drag that made her thighs shake. He was methodical. Of course he was methodical. He was entirely focused on her, on what made her moan, on what made her hips press back against his face.
She was already making sounds she didn't recognize. Little broken gasps that escaped every time his tongue found her clit. Her fingers curled against the wall, nails scraping uselessly at the wood.
"You taste-" He pulled back just long enough to speak, his breath hot against her wet skin. "You taste incredible."
Then his tongue pushed inside her and her vision went white at the edges.
He ate her like he had something to prove. Slow, deep strokes that made her feel full and empty in alternating waves. His nose pressed against her from behind, his jaw working, and one of his hands left her hip to slide between her legs from the front, finding her clit with his thumb while his tongue worked deeper.
Amyra made a sound that wasn't a word. Couldn't have been a word. Words required brain function and her brain had vacated the premises somewhere around the third stroke of his tongue.
"Let me hear you." His voice was muffled against her. "I want to hear every sound you make."
She couldn't have held back if she'd tried. The moans came out of her in a rhythm that matched his tongue...short and sharp when he flicked, long and low when he dragged. Her hips were moving now, grinding back against his face, and he let her, encouraged it, his hand on her back pressing harder to keep her arched.
"You're being so good for me." The words vibrated against her clit. "So responsive. So perfect."
The praise hit her like another stroke of his tongue. Her thighs shook. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. Something was building low in her belly...a pressure that made her toes curl against the floor.
"I'm-" She couldn't finish the sentence.
"I know." His thumb circled her clit faster as his tongue pushed deeper into her. "Cum for me. Let me feel it."
Amyra's orgasm ripped through her without warning...one second she was hovering on the edge, the next she was gone, crying out something that might have been his name, might have been nothing at all. Her body convulsed against the wall and her hips bucked. Max didn't stop...he kept his mouth on her through every pulse, every shake, until she was gasping and oversensitive and trying to pull away.
Only then did he ease back, pressing a kiss to the back of her thigh as he stood up.
Amyra stayed where she was, forehead against the wall, chest heaving. Her legs felt like they'd been replaced with something jelly. Somewhere behind her, she heard the rustle of clothing...his clothing, she realized. He was undressing. The thought sent another pulse of heat through her even though she'd just cum.
"Turn around for me."
She did. Slowly. Her body felt heavy and electric at the same time.
Max had stripped down to nothing. And he was...big.
That was the first word her brain supplied. Not just tall, which she'd known...but thick thighs, built shoulders and chest and arms that came from actual physical labor, from steering wheels and training regimens and a life that demanded more than just sitting in a sim rig. The line of his body was efficient. Just muscle where it needed to be, and between his legs, thick and already hard and curving up, was his cock.
He'd already put on a condom. She hadn't even heard him open the wrapper. "Come here."
She walked to him on legs that still felt unsteady. Stopped when she was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.
His hand came up to cup her jaw. Thumb tracing over her cheekbone with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the command in his voice. "You did so well. That was beautiful." His thumb slid lower, brushing across her lower lip. "You're beautiful."
She was dripping again already, just from his voice. Just from the way he looked at her like she was something ready to ruin, yet his at the same time.
"On the bed, on your back."
She moved. Climbed onto the mattressand lay back. Max followed, crawling over her, but instead of settling between her legs, he sat back on his heels and looked at her.
"Open your legs."
She did.
"Wider."
She spread them further. The stretch pulled at her inner thighs, made her feel open and exposed in a way that would have been uncomfortable if not for the way he was looking at her...like she was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen laid out on his bed.
"Wider."
She couldn't go much further. Her knees were nearly touching the mattress on either side. The position made her acutely aware of her own wetness, the way her body was still pulsing from the first orgasm, the way her clit was still sensitive and swollen.
Max made a sound low in his throat. His hand reached out, fingers tracing from her knee down the inside of her thigh, light enough to make her shiver.
"You have no idea how hot you look right now." His fingers crept higher. Brushed the crease of her hip. Skirted around where she actually wanted them. "Spread open for me, wet for me. Your body is-" He paused, searching for the word. "Perfect."
His middle finger slid through her folds. Barely any pressure. Just enough to make her gasp.
"So wet." The words were almost reverent. "You're so wet for me."
"Yes, all for you."
His finger circled her entrance, teasing. Barely dipping in before pulling back. "Tell me what you want."
Her hips lifted, chasing his touch. "You."
"You have me." Another slow circle. Another near penetration that didn't quite get there. "Be specific."
"Max." His name came out like a plea.
"Specific."
"I want you inside me." The words tumbled out. "I want your cock. Please. I need you-"
His finger pushed inside her. One knuckle, then two. Not fast, but low enough that she felt every inch of the stretch, every ridge of his knuckle, every place her body had to make room for him.
"Good girl." He pulled out and pushed back in with two fingers this time, scissoring them slightly, stretching her. "You ask so nicely."
Her hips bucked. Her hands fisted in the sheets. He was so intentional, so controlled, and it was driving her insane.
"I love how responsive you are." Another finger. Three now, stretching her wider, and she could feel how tight she was around him, how much thicker his cock was going to be. "I love the sounds you make. I love how wet you get when I praise you."
She moaned...she couldn't help it...and his fingers curled inside her, finding a spot that made her back arch off the bed.
"There." He pressed again, watching her face. "Right there. You're squeezing my fingers so tight. You're going to feel incredible around my cock."
"Then-" She could barely form words. "Then do it. Please."
His fingers slid out. Left her empty and aching. She watched him position himself between her spread thighs, the head of his cock brushing against her soaked pussy, and her whole body clenched in anticipation.
"Look at me."
Her eyes snapped to his face.
"I want you to watch." He pressed forward just slightly...barely the tip, stretching her wider than his fingers had. "I want you to see who's inside you and making you feel so good."
And then he pushed. The stretch was intense. More than intense. Deeper than his fingers, thicker, and he didn't stop. Just kept pressing forward, inch by inch, until he was fully deep inside her and she couldn't remember how to breathe.
Her eyes rolled back. She couldn't help it. Her body was so full, so stretched, so completely filled by him that her body didn't know what to do aside from short circuit.
"Eyes on me." His voice was strained now...the first crack in his control. "Amyra. Eyes on me."
She forced her gaze back to his face. His jaw was clenched. A vein stood out on his forehead. He was holding himself still inside her, letting her adjust, but she could see what the effort was costing him.
"You feel-" He stopped. Swallowed, and started again. "You feel incredible. So tight. So hot. So perfect."
She clenched around him involuntarily and his eyes nearly crossed.
"Don't-" His hands tightened on her thighs, spreading her even wider. "If you do that, I'm not going to last long."
"Then move."
Max did. The first thrust was deep and slow and pulled a sound from her that she'd never made before in her life...something guttural and desperate and completely beyond her control. His cock dragged along every sensitive place inside her, filling her completely, and when he pulled back and thrust again, harder, she saw stars.
"That's it." His rhythm picked up, still controlled but faster now, deeper. Each stroke pushed a moan out of her that she couldn't have held back. "Let me hear you. Let everyone hear you. I don't care."
Amyra was beyond words, beyond thought. Her world had narrowed to the stretch of her thighs, the fullness between her legs, the slap of his hips against hers, the sounds he was making...low grunts that she felt in her chest.
"You're taking me so well." His thumb found her clit, circling in time with his thrusts. "So deep. You're so-" His breath hitched. "So good...my good girl."
She was going to cum again. She could feel it building...faster this time, sharper, climbing up her spine and spreading through her body. Her moans turned high and broken. Her hips bucked to meet his thrusts without any conscious direction from her brain.
"Are you close?" His thumb pressed harder. Faster. "Tell me."
"Yes...Max, yes!"
"Look at me when you cum around my cock."
Her eyes found his.
"I want to see it. I want to watch you fall apart on my cock."
The words pushed her over. Orgasm hit her like a wall...merciless and total. Her vision whited out even though she was still looking at him. Her body clamped down around his cock in rhythmic pulses that she couldn't control.
She was still convulsing when his control broke.
He thrust deep...once, twice...and then buried himself to the hilt with a sound that was almost a whimper. She felt the pulse of his release through the condom, felt his body shake over hers, felt his forehead drop to her shoulder as he rode out the last waves.
His breath was hot and ragged against her collarbone. Her legs were still spread wide around his hips, trembling faintly from the strain. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her teeth.
Then Max lifted his head. Looked at her with eyes that were still slightly unfocused.
And said..."You're staying."
Not a question.
Amyra swallowed. Her voice came out wrecked. "I have a flight tomorrow."
"Cancel it."
"Max-"
His hand slid up her ribcage, over her breast, to cup her throat. Not choking, just holding. His thumb traced her pulse point...still racing.
"I said." He bent his head, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You're staying."
Below them, the dinner was still going. But up here, in this room, with Max still inside her and his hand around her throat, Amyra realized she'd already made her decision.
The question wasn't whether she'd stay tonight...the question was whether she'd ever be able to leave...or if she even wanted to.
synop: lando is frustrated, luckily he has you to help him work through it
warnings: smut smut, no plot, use of baby, slut, and bunny, dom(ish) lando, not really any aftercare but its pretty soft
🎞️: 2.1K words
he wasn’t angry, certainly not with you. not even really with himself or the team either. just frustrated. like his blood was swirling with boiling water just beneath the skin. pressure building in his fists and jaw as he worked through the post quali media.
when he was finally released, his steps were pointed and purposeful. he knew where he was going. what he needed, who he needed. he spotted you standing next to the car, with a driver inside waiting to escort you both to your hotel.
he didnt smile, but you could see a small glint in his eyes, before his arms were wrapped around your waist and he lifted you to his height. usually, after exhausting himself in the cockpit, he slumps into you absorbing any amount of comfort you will give him. it was clear as he easily lifted your dead weight to exactly where he wanted you, that this was not going to be one of those nights.
the car ride back was quiet, but became comfortable. you scattered light kisses along his knuckles and played with his fingers. he watched you, careful, his sour mood cracking slightly when he leaned down to kiss you, maybe a bit more passionately than the driver found necessary. but you didn't care, this is what he needed, and you were willing to give him whatever he could possibly want.
as the hotel suite door softly shut behind him, he was on you. hands fast and rough along your jaw and hips, walking you both backwards as you tried to keep up with how furiously he was kissing you.
“i need you” was all he could say before he was pulling his jacket off, already hot.
“take me-” you told him, and it was all the go-ahead he needed. pouncing back onto your mouth almost before you could finish speaking. you felt the bed hit the back of your knees and took his hands pushing on your hips as an order to sit down. his fingers caught the bottom hem of your shirt, hooking it up as you sat down, peeling it off of you. discarding it before he tugged his over his head with haste.
“beautiful” spilled from his mouth as his eyes flicked down to your bare chest. and he meant it, and you knew he meant it. but really, he didn’t spare much of a glance before connecting your lips again. like a wicked spell being cast between you, you moved against each other with such poise. taking everything he gave you, and him knowing how much you could take better than you did yourself.
his hands were pushing your knees apart for him to stand between, still bent over kissing you like it was easier than breathing. his fingers lightly trailed between your thighs, never touching anywhere you really needed him. your hand raised to his shoulder pushing him towards you, needing to be closer to him, more contact. he put a hand lightly on your throat and pushed you back enough to separate your lips.
“behave” he warned you, which was enough to have you whining and your skin buzzing with want. he kissed you quickly once more, maybe because you looked so good with puffy lips, and completely wrecked before he had even touched you. his pointer fingers slipped inside the waistband of your skirt, tugging it off. he nodded his head and hummed for you to help him. you knew what he wanted, he didnt have to say it. he knows what a good listener you are.
your hands helped you to crawl back on the bed as he easily slid down your skirt and underwear. he wasnt wasting time, you both knew very well where this was going. really you werent sure how much longer you could wait for him. his shorts slacked easily to his ankles after undoing the button.
he saw that you had crawled your way back to the top of the bed, much too far for his liking. he dragged his boxers off as he knelt onto the mattress, reaching for your ankle. yanking on the first one he could reach, he pulled you to have your head on the pillow and legs stretched towards him. kissing the mark his thumb left on your ankle from the strength he used.
you adjusted to be propped back on both your elbows, you needed to see him. you watched his every movement with such severity. from his eyes dark and ready, to how his mouth hung open slightly like he needed to kiss you again. but as he placed his hands on the underneath of both of your knees, pushing them towards your chest, kissing you wasn't the first thing on his mind anymore.
your pussy spread for him, legs open, ready to listen to anything he had to say. he could have lost it right there… it took a strangled hmph from you to pull his eyes away from your core. eyes snapping back to yours, he positioned himself to rub his length against you. you didnt need lube, not when he had you like this. he knocked one leg around his waist to free up a hand to put his thumb in your mouth. flat against your tongue, salty and grounding. giving you something else to focus on beside the way his dick was throbbing against you.
soaked in you, he pulled back slightly and finally let his tip sink inside of you, your hips flinched at the fullness. he stopped as suddenly as this had all started. only about 3 inches in he stilled at your movement and locked your eyes.
“you know how much i love you right?” he questioned with a moment of sincerity that almost felt out of place. you nodded quickly, a bit confused and still dazed with half his dick resting inside of you.
“and if I ever do anything you don't like, you will tell me?” he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him out loud.
“of course baby” you told him with just a hint of worry about where this was coming from but always loving how he respected every part of you and your relationship.
“good girl” he exhaled deeply as his hand came back up to cup your chin and hold your jaw slack, “because i need you to stay fucking still and take whatever the fuck i give you”
he went back to sinking himself inside of you, grinning as you kept your legs just how he wanted them, faint grunts and whines fell from your lips but you didnt dare move your face enough to moan like you really wanted to.
“thats my girl” he told you as his cock finally bottomed out, almost teasing as he watched you bite your lip hard enough to control all the twitching and moving you wanted to do so desperately. “you can move bunny, just dont run from me, i know how well you can fucking take it” he smirked as he leaned down to kiss you again.
you relaxed around him instantly and he sunk just that little bit deeper, making you moan into his mouth. his hips started working slow circles in you, pubic bone bumping your clit every time, making you crazy. your hands rested on his shoulder and the back of his neck, scratching right at his hairline, as he finally let out a grunt that had you clenching around him. a crack in the armor, the reward for how good you are to him.
he pulled his cock halfway out before he was diving back into you, missing your warmth already. the thrust pushed a real moan from you, one you couldn't control. and just like that he was tipping his head back trying not to finish at just the sound of you loving his cock. the music your mouth made went straight to his hips as he found a rhythm. it was familiar, one that said, i know how you like it. he needed to fuck you so bad it was killing him, but still he goes at the pace that drives you crazy. you falling apart on his dick like a whore was just as much for him as it was for you.
you were loud, you knew he liked it, and there was no point in trying to hold back when your lan is fucking you this good. he moved both legs now to be wrapped around his waist as his hands found your hips. Pushing your whole body up and down to meet him, fucking you onto him. it was hard, it was fast, it was driving him insane. his eyes lulling closed as he listened to you moaning like nothing less than a pornstar. feeling himself slide in and out of you with nothing but the wetness of your desire for him. he opened his eyes as his head started getting fuzzy, watching your pretty face, then your tits bouncing, then his cock ruining your sweet little pussy. the only conscious thought he had was ‘mine’ repeated over and over again in his head like a mantra.
“tell me what you want baby” he husked out once he noticed the tears brimming your eyes. letting up on the force he was conducting your hips with, he could feel very much so that you were enjoying yourself but he still wanted to check..
“wan you to use me… to make ya’feel better” you told him as your walls fluttered around him.
he dropped to his elbows and tucked his forehead right where your neck met your shoulder. honestly he didn't know if it was because his body was tired or if it was your soaking cunt making him weak. one arm reached down to wrap under your leg and guide it up to rest on his shoulder. splitting you so wide, as he found more pace in the new position. your nails dug so deeply into his back, the sting only making him fuck you harder. really, he didnt mind, he knew you would never do anything to intentionally hurt him. so, the sting was just another reminder of how completely gone you were with him inside of you.
the muscles deep within you clenched around his tip, he knew your body so well, he could tell exactly how close you were. he kept hitting the same spot at the same pace, not daring to change a thing when you were leaning over the cliff you so desperately needed to fall off. your moans had quieted only slightly. he picked his head up to watch as you broke for him, finding you so dazed and cock drunk there was nothing else to read on your pretty face. he clenched his fists next to either side of his head so as to not cum before you.
“look what a slut you've become for me, my sweet girl, all mine” he cooed next to your ear, knowing it was just the extra push you needed. he felt every part of you clench underneath him before the surge of pleasure washed over you. moaning and convulsing like you had no control of your body. his hips were still bucking into you as your jaw slacked completely and you lost it for a moment. leaving your mind for just a second to let it all fill with bliss.
“all yours” was the first thing you said as the waves of pleasure still rippled over you and his dick knocked the sweetest spot in your tummy. and he broke, head dropping as his orgasm crashed onto him before he had a chance to think about holding it in. your legs spread wider as he painted your insides warm and sticky. still moaning right next to his ear as his hand gripped so tightly onto your hip, both of you riding your highs together.
as you both came back down, the pace had slowed and he gave you two or three more good pumps. letting his cock soak for just a moment longer, making sure you got every drop. his body relaxed onto you and your hands found his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and twirling his curls, as he laid on you for a moment.
“i love you so much baby” was all he said before pulling himself up and out of you. he left kisses on your shoulder, up your neck, across your cheek, until finally being reunited with your lips. kissing you so gently; it held more words than either of you had ever spoken. pulling away, your eyes gleaming with love as he thought about spending forever with you. his thumb gently soothed the tear stains on your cheeks, as he looked at you like a marvel. you were his, you were all he would ever want, all he could ever need.
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