i'm amelia (she/her) and i write f1 fic. i have two pseuds on ao3: passengerprincipessa (formerly 1425fivefive) and afterdark. i'm a lando fan but i like almost all the drivers. my ask box is literally always open as long as you are 18+ 🥰
please do not share my fics (this includes titles, screenshots, or links) on any platforms other than tumblr, discord, or ao3. keep rpf in rpf spaces
i’ve been living my life like an emotionally avoidant heterosexual man and i have to say this shit rocks. i love watching sports and casual sex and taking 36 hours to respond to a text
lando norris/stassie karanikolaou/alix earle | explicit | 5k
tags: pwp, m/f/f threesome, blowjobs, cunnilingus, face-sitting, vaginal sex
It wasn’t even Lando’s idea— nobody will fucking believe him— but it was all them. Smirking across the club after the race. Telling him to come to Cannes the next day. Convincing him the yacht was more convenient to stay the night than going back to Monaco. Dancing on each other as Lando tried not to get hard behind the DJ set up. Climbing onto his lap one after the other, and grinding against him until he came in his swim trunks like a fucking teenager.
Lando thought that would be it, but no. They sent selfies from new locations every few days in a chat with all three of them. Stassie laying by the pool, tits barely covered by a tiny bikini. Alix leaning close to a bathroom mirror, so he can nearly see down her dress. And one particularly evil one, with the accompanying message “wish u were here 😇” Taken by Alix from below, it’s clear she’s sitting between some man’s legs, Stassie only partially in frame, resting her chin on the same man’s shoulder, hands wandering down his chest— it’s cropped just right so his face isn’t visible. Lando had a wank about that one.
It’s different, being pursued. Nothing like his usual girls. They’re so brash, it makes him a little unsteady, like he’s 19 again, first year in F1, trying to figure out how to chat up hookups. Or how to behave around a flirty older teammate. He wasn’t sure at first if it was for him, didn’t know if he wanted to be that Lando again. But something about them made him feel like it wasn’t really about him. Every move like it’s entirely for them. It’s hot, to be part of their game, the shameless way they keep him on the hook, how his stomach swoops when their names illuminate his screen, the thrill of never knowing how far they’ll take it.
The London trip was all them too. Of course. Alix was alone the first night— last night— and invited him to her hotel. That’s usually his move. They fucked on the couch, quick and dirty, then again an hour and a couple drinks later. They made it to the bed that time— barely. A text from Stassie was waiting in the group chat when they finished, “miss me? 🥰” accompanied by a picture at whatever event kept her away, martini in hand, making those eyes at the camera.
Lando was sure then how it was going to end.
Not that there had ever really been any question.
So, he arranged the club for drinks.
The rest was them.
──
He’s had threesomes before, obviously. With men and women. But there’s something about both of them with their mouths on his cock that feels especially like it’s straight out of porn. Alix bobbs shallowly, taking a couple inches as Stas drags her tongue down his length, and without warning, mouths at his balls.
“Fuck,” his hand flies to Alix’s hair as he feels precome leak into her mouth. She pulls off and replaces her mouth with a hand, thin fingers barely able to wrap comfortably around his cock, and says, seemingly delighted, “Stas, do that again.”
She hums in response, and Lando feels her hot breath on his balls; but before he can string two thoughts together, it’s her mouth again, warm and wet, sucking with intention, and Lando can’t help his moan in response, cock pulsing once in Alix’s hand, more precome beading at the tip.
She grins, leans in and says, “He likes that,” then looks up at him, makes a show of running her tongue across the head, licking it clean, and pulls off, “Don’t you?”
Stassie’s rolling his balls on her tongue, and it’s almost too much. He worries, not for the first time tonight, he might come right then and there— he squeezes his eyes tight for a second, trying to block out the image of come splattering across Alix’s lips, in Stassie’s hair.
He can’t even muster up a real response, just a breathy, “Uh huh.”
It’s like Stassie can read his mind, because she suddenly removes her tongue and sits back on her heels with a glint in her eye.
“Don’t come,” she says. One shoulder of her dress has started to slip off, and he marvels briefly that her tits haven’t popped out of the plunging v-shape that goes all the way down to her stomach. He’d like to trace the edge of the fabric with his tongue, running all the way up, tracing the outline of her breast, then nosing under it to suck her hard nipple into his mouth. Maybe later.
Alix follows suit, rocking back on her heels and looking sweetly up at him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She’d been good fun last night— eager to please and let him lead— something tells him Stassie won’t be the same.
“Wasn’t gonna,” Lando replies, unable to keep the air of defiance out of his tone. There’s something about Stassie that makes him simultaneously want to do everything she says, and also respond like a petulant teen. She can go blow for blow, he learned that quickly. Any cheeky comment he tossed her way, she had one for him. And she usually got the last word when Lando turned into the shy, blushy version of himself he thought he shed years ago.
She smiles wide, lips parted, white teeth flashing, and her tongue playing across a canine. His cock visibly twitches, and he suddenly feels very exposed, dick out, trousers around his ankles, being sized up like something to devour, while they’re both still fully clothed. He tucks it back into his boxers, snapping the elastic against his stomach harder than necessary to take the edge off.
“Sure you weren’t,” she smirks, “But good to know how to make you.”
There’s a hundred ways they could make him come, actually. But they don’t need more ideas.
He must have missed Alix getting up, too locked onto Stassie, because suddenly, she’s not on the ground anymore and is snaking an arm around his neck, leaning in for a kiss and using her body to communicate a move towards the bed. Earlier, they’d made it out of the small sitting room of Stassie’s suite but only just past the door of the bedroom before Stas had a hand down his trousers, tugging his half-chub free and making a little noise in her throat.
“Told you,” Alix said.
A flush had crept up Lando’s neck at the insinuation. Stassie stroked him once, thumbing slowly across the tip, and when he choked out a dumb, “Wut?” Stas simply smirked and said “Big” before she dropped to her knees and got to work.
Lando melts into kissing Alix, her full lips feel nice— and looked even better around his cock. He can’t think about that again. Not if he doesn’t want to let Stassie down. Lando turns them around so he’s guiding her towards the bed instead, kneading his fingers into her ass and rucking up the fabric of her dress with one hand, as he slips the other under, running it up the back of her thigh, over smooth skin until he makes contact with a thin line of lace. Hooking his fingers under, he slides her thong over the curve of her ass.
Her tongue is in his mouth, and she’s pushing the sides of his shirt up urgently. He abandons one item of clothing for the other, removing his hands and mouth to finish undressing. He tosses his cap onto the bed, and pulls at the back of the collar—his ex told him once girls think it’s hot when guys strip that way— and hopes Stassie’s watching from over his shoulder while he attempts to make the muscles ripple as he shirks the shirt. Need to thank Jon later for that, he thinks absently.
Finishing Lando’s handiwork, Alix steps out of her thong and kicks off her heels. “Stas,” she throws over Lando’s shoulder, “Zipper?”
A shiver runs through Lando as a long nail makes contact with the small of his back and runs the length of his spine before fingers thread through his hair and Stassie appears on his right. His eyes flutter, and he bites his tongue to stop the moan in his throat. As soon as she appears, she’s moving onto Alix, hips swaying under the skin-tight dress. The way she moves feels more reminiscent of a prowl than a walk, and she cocks her hip as Alix moves her hair out so she can unzip.
Stassie undoes the straps clasped around Alix’s neck and lets it fall forward, exposing her— no bra, tits shocking perky, Lando clocked that last night, but it still makes his head spin. Alix winks at him as she peels the pasties off her nipples as Stassie unzips the rest, letting the dress drop to the floor.
It’s so seamless, the way they move around each other, and Lando wonders with a jolt, just how many times they’ve done this. He can’t dwell for more than a second, though, because Alix is naked in front of him. She sits on the edge of the bed, with just the right amount of force to make her tits bounce— intentionally, he’s positive. Then all the blood rushes from Lando’s head straight to his cock, when she opens her knees to show off her glistening cunt.
She’s so wet— just from having his cock and tongue in her mouth. Most girls suck his cock because it’s what they’re supposed to do. Transactional. Perfunctory before he fucks them. Seeing the evidence of how much she liked it makes him feel a little crazy. His tongue catches the corner of his mouth.
“Come here,” she says coyly, like her entire pussy isn’t on display.
Lando keeps forgetting how to speak. What does he usually do during sex? Does he talk? He literally can’t remember— his brain is filled with static and he can feel his heart beat in his cock.
“Pretty,” Stassie ended up behind him again somehow, and her hands find his hips, gently pushing him towards Alix, “Isn’t she?”
He swallows thickly and nods, and Stassie’s breath tickles his neck, and she lowers her voice to a whisper that sets his whole body on a knife’s edge, “Cat got your tongue?”
“No.” Stupid answer. He hasn’t put a full sentence together in the nearly fifteen minutes they’ve been back at the hotel.
“Good,” her teeth lightly catch on the shell of his ear and goosebumps pepper across his chest, “We need it.”
He groans. Stassie laughs. She’s gonna kill him.
“Did you tell him?” Stas circles around, and perches on the edge of the bed as well. It’s an insane picture, the two of them— Alix completely nude, thighs open, pussy dripping for him, inches from Stassie, still fully clothed, legs crossed, but somehow still oozing sex.
“No,” Alix replies, and Lando swears she pouts a little.
“Tell me what?” Lando asks, his voice feels disconnected from his body somehow.
Stassie feathers the back of her index finger up Alix’s bare thigh, “You can’t fuck her.”
He looks from Stassie to Alix, to Alix’s cunt, and finds his tongue.
“Does she know that?”
Alix giggles, “You really can’t,” then raises her eyebrows, “Sore,” and looks pointedly at the bulge tucked into his pants.
He cringes a little, he’d almost forgotten. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it’s been a while— doesn’t usually go two rounds in one night anymore. And when he did, Magui would usually ride him so she could control it, not take him too deep.
“Sorry, ‘m just—”
She cuts him off, “Big,” she looks pleased, and she wets her lips with her tongue, “Yeah, I know.”
He preens a little and can’t help but notice how her wet mouth matches her cunt. Stassie’s hand is still on her leg, and he doesn’t register what’s happening until her hand has already moved— middle finger dragging lazily through Alix's folds. Alix's whole body shudders, and Lando takes a deep steadying breath, willing himself to hold it together for whatever they— Stassie—has up her sleeve.
Her finger comes off wet, and she raises it to her lips, sucks the digit into her mouth, lips pursing around it as she slowly pulls it free, centimeter by centimeter between her still-glossy lips. Lando’s not even sure how that’s possible when she had them wrapped around him minutes before, but somehow, she looks practically untouched. It’s doing something for him he doesn’t quite understand.
Even though the instructions are clearly for Alix, she doesn’t take her eyes off Lando when she says, “Get him wet for me.”
Alix’s breath hitches, sharp inhale audible. He’s sure they planned this together, clearly orchestrated the reveal he can’t fuck her until the opportune moment, but something about the way Alix seems like she’s hanging in this moment with him feels electric. Like they’re both vibrating in their skin at the prospect of tending to Stassie’s whims. His stomach feels funny, and his balls tighten— he’s so hard he might die if one of them doesn’t touch his dick soon.
They’re close enough now when Alix reaches out, he’s sure she’s gonna go for his boxers so she can take him down her throat again, but instead she grabs his wrist and pulls him in, slotting him between her spread legs. Only then does she push at his waistband. He helps her along, freeing his cock and removing them entirely.
Stassie’s watching them intently, inches between the two of them on the mattress. A little smile dances at the corners of Stas’ lips while Alix rearranges herself, lying back on her elbows, legs spread even wider than before with one foot on the bed and the other hooked around him to draw him closer.
“Just don’t put it in,” Stassie says.
“Get him wet.”
It hits him all at once what she meant. Not with her mouth, with her cunt. He sways on his feet a little.
His cock throbs as he lines himself up. The initial slide is nearly enough to make him come— slick and warm, and Alix gasps when his length rubs through her folds, turning to a moan when the head nudges her clit. She needs it just as bad.
He thrusts experimentally a few times, going slow for both their enjoyment, savoring the way he looks slotted between her folds. As he slides up, his cock drags up her stomach until his balls tap against her hole— Alix’s eyes flutter, and Lando feels crazy with the reminder of how deep he was in her already, the whole reason he can’t be again. Precome dribbles out and paints Alix’s taught abs, mixing with her slick as he slides back through her.
He’s about to get lost in it, chasing his release, when Stas says, “Thanks, Alix.”
He remembers then. This is just the fucking preamble.
“My pleasure,” Alix says in a tone that tells him she means it, and stretches to kiss him. Cock still pressed against her, he meets her halfway, capturing her lips. It’s too chaste. Not nearly enough, and she pulls away quickly, moving just out of his reach before leaning back in and capturing his chin in her hand.
She rests her thumb on his bottom lip and says coyly, “Now wanna see what you can do with this.”
Fuck. He wants that too. He wants to taste her, wants to eat her out until she’s trembling and sensitive, get her even wetter than she is already, messy and open under his tongue.
“Mint,” he says weakly, suddenly very aware of his mouth. His tongue darts out. It’s a good thing they already want him. His game has never been worse. It’s like someone went and took his favorite game, the one he’s best at, and changed all the rules without telling him. Now he’s still got to act like he knows how to play.
“Good at multitasking?” Stassie drawls.
He is, usually. Comes with the job. Debatable if he’s currently up to the task. And he’s not even sure why she’s—
“Get him wet for me.”
Oh, fuck.
His cock jumps. He’s not gonna fucking last.
It’s like Stassie can see him putting the pieces together in real time, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across her face.
“Lie down.” She slides over to make room for him to get on the bed between them. He looks from her to Alix, and his stomach flips when he realizes she’s touching herself. Fingers dragging up and down, staring at him—at his cock covered in her— following the same lazy rhythm he’d set with it moments before, bits of him clinging to her abs.
His body seems to move of its own accord, and without even really knowing how he got there, he’s staring at the crown molding on the ceiling, until a slender leg cuts across it, knee planting next to his ear, and he’s staring at something else entirely.
Alix’s pussy is even prettier up close, lovely and smooth and absolutely dripping. She braces a hand on his chest, and hovers just out of reach. The pressure is nice, the weight of her palm somehow grounding. He’s used to making girls turn the other way, put their hands on headboard for leverage— plus, easy access to ‘accidentally’ nudge their clits with his nose while keeping his tongue inside and wonders aimlessly why Alix prefers it this way.
The bed shifts again, and he can’t see around Alix, but suddenly there’s weight on his thighs.
Oh. That’s why. So, Alix can see Stassie. So, she can get off to the picture of her friend taking his cock, imagining it's her again.
“So wet,” Stassie’s disembodied voice coos. He wonders if she means the slick from Alix’s cunt, or the way his cock can’t seem to stop leaking. Either way, it’s clearly doing something for her, because fingers wrap gingerly around his girth, before a kiss is pressed gently to the tip, followed by a feather light kitten lick.
He pulses in her grasp, and gasps out, “Stas, please…”
“Don’t worry, baby,” her breath tickles against his cock. Every new thing she does with her mouth is better than the last. Didn’t know "baby" couldn’t be an improvement on literally kissing his dick, but his core goes molten at the word, and Alix must like it too because her cunt literally clenches above him.
“I got you,” Stassie’s shifting again, hand still around his cock, “Remember what I said earlier?”
It’s a fucking stupid question. He can barely remember his own name.
And then she says the two words that make the world go fuzzy around the edges.
“Don’t come...”
And his vision whites out as she sinks down, taking all of him in one motion, no time to adjust, while simultaneously, Alix dips a couple inches, pressing her soaked folds to his lips.
Stassie pauses, fully seated on him, not moving a muscle, and finishes her thought, voice steady and sultry, even while sitting on his cock, “…until we do.”
Fuck. Fuck. His hips stutter, cock throbbing against her walls. They’re actually going to kill him. He can see the headlines now: “F1 World Champion Dies in Bizarre Threesome Incident.” He can feel the whine in his throat and grateful his mouth is full, tracing lazily across Alix’s cunt, muffling whatever pathetic, involuntary noises escape as Stassie begins to move excruciatingly slow, almost letting his cock slip out every time she moves up and down.
It’s stupid, but that petulant need Lando gets around her returns and he wants to do exactly what she said— make Alix come on his tongue and Stassie on his cock before it's his turn— but he wants to play the game again.
So, before she has a chance to really control the pace, sink back down at the same diabolical speed, he hitches his hips, snapping up into her. There’s a small noise of surprise and then a hand on his stomach, nails lightly pressing into him in warning.
He smiles into Alix, feeling a little too pleased with himself.
“Fuck Stas, look so—“ Lando doesn’t let Alix finish her sentence. He can’t know how Stassie looks riding him, he’ll blow his load in two seconds flat if he does. He grasps Alix's thighs and presses his tongue firmly to her clit, eliciting a gasp, as she grinds down, needing more.
Stassie gets into a rhythm again— it feels even slower than before— probably intentionally. Deliberate movements, regularly pausing briefly once every inch is in. He’s got a task though— getting Alix off. He’s good at tasks— especially this one. And right now, it’s Lando’s only saving grace to take his mind off of the growing need in his gut.
Luckily, by the way Alix keeps pressing closer and tightens around his tongue when he dips it inside— it won’t take much. He lets his head go fuzzy, buries his face in her, fingers flexing into her thighs, methodically working his tongue, throat bobbing against the cool metal of his chain pooling in the hollow, finding all the places that make her moan and roll her hips. All while Stassie won’t pick up the pace.
It’s like he’s floating a few inches left of his own body, so it takes him a second to register that they’re talking…
“—have to try,” Alix says.
“Yeah?” It’s low and raspy from Stassie.
Good, he thinks. Not entirely unshakeable.
“He keeps—“ Lando flicks her clit with his tongue, and her breath stutters, thighs boxing his ears, “Ah— doing this thing.”
…talking about him.
He knows what thing. He’s perfected it. It’s harder at this angle, but Alix rocks forward against his tongue, bracing her hands on his chest, and he closes his lips around her clit.
“So— God—“
He sucks.
She gasps, “Good.”
She’s pulsing in his mouth, and his chest feels warm with the praise. It seems to have encouraged Stassie to want more too. She’s circling her hips, and he feels her weight shift forward, wetness brushing against his belly, trying to use him for some fraction.
He releases Alix, and drags his tongue slowly, splitting her open, tongue exploring so he can feel the rolling tremors as she gets closer, closer, until he reattaches his lips, sucking hard and her thighs clamp tight around his head, nails digging into his chest.
“Oh— God,” she moans, and breathy sounds fill the room, and she's trembling all over, legs and cunt alike. He works her through her orgasm, watching her muscles repeatedly contract and release, lapping at her core and lightly dancing his tongue across her clit, letting one hand wander up her stomach to feel her abs flexing under his palm, until she’s whining, oversensitive and spent, and pushing herself out of his reach, swinging her leg back over him and falling to his side.
Her retreat clears Lando’s line of sight— he’s so fucked.
His hips jerk at the mere sight of Stassie on top of him. She’s still in her dress, and he can’t even be disappointed her tits aren’t out because it’s bunched around her waist, the impossibly small thong pushed to the side, so he can see her stretched around him. There’s something so filthy about her still clothed, soaked panties on, wetness from all three of them inside her— he can see it on his dick every time she slides up, leaving slick and precome behind.
Lando feels like there’s something vibrating under his skin, and an animalistic groan escapes his lips. Stassie looks like a cat that got the cream as she leans down, and hooks two fingers under his necklace, pulling him into a sitting position.
“My turn.”
He wraps an arm around her waist as she finally starts to fuck herself on him without restraint, tits bouncing, dress barely holding them in place, head thrown back, as Lando thrusts up to meet her. Before, he’d had to ignore the tight squeeze of her cunt the best he could, but now, with Alix sated and watching the show from between the hotel's fluffy pillows, he’s seeing stars every time she bottoms out.
“Stas— I don’t—" He groans as she slows again, eyes glinting as her hips undulate.
“Shhh,” she soothes and threads her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close to her breasts.
Lando needs a distraction, something to focus on other than the pressure in his balls, so he presses in closer, nosing at the edge of the plunging neckline, fingers finding the straps just barely clinging to her shoulders and pushing them down. The fabric falls, her perfect tits finally on display, bouncing as she rides him, full and heavy.
His jaw slack, lips still slick with Alix, his eyes travel from her tits to her face, “Can I?”
Stassie runs her thumb across his lips.
“Whatever you need.”
He needs to come. And she knows that. It almost feels like permission. Almost.
Lando buries his face in her cleavage, and Stassie continues to ride him, little bounces now, cock barely moving in and out of her, as Lando licks across the swell of her breast, and over her nipple, before sucking the pert nub into his mouth.
Stassie stops moving entirely.
He can feel her warm and wet against his balls. His teeth graze her nipple, and at the exact same time she clenches hard around his cock, whispering low in his ear.
“Good boy."
There’s static all around him, and stars explode behind his eyes as he jerks up once, twice, and spills, tit still in his mouth, hips rabbiting erratically, pulsing inside her without warning.
“Fuck,” Lando says, releasing her nipple. Her chest is shiny with his spit, and he looks up at her again— her pupils are blown, breath shallow, watching him intently as he finds his release. He needed it so bad, he can’t even bring himself to apologize, even though she still hasn't come.
Lando's good with his hands; he can still get her off. His dick is softening inside her, and just when it's getting too much and he’s about to lift her off, she makes the first move, pulling away, pussy squelching as she goes.
He didn’t notice she kept her heels on the whole time too. Stassie turns her back to him and crawls on all fours towards the headboard, ass on display so Lando gets an eyeful of his mess, white against the dark string of her thong. She sits back on her heels, and pulls the dress, now only covering her midriff, over her head. She turns around laying back in the pillows next to Alix, who is leisurely touching herself. She’s clearly not trying for another orgasm, just taking the edge off from the scene that unfolded feet away.
Stassie shimmies out of her ruined panties, tossing them to the floor. But doesn’t move to take off her shoes, just spreads her legs, his release dripping out of her, and says, “You still have a job to do.”
He nearly falls face first on the mattress trying to get over to her. He’s got a hand on her hip in an instant, ready to fuck his come back in with his fingers, but she grabs his wrist.
“Uh uh,” Stassie says devilishly, “Show me what you did for Alix.”
He feels hot all over, limbs going numb and tingly.
“You want that?” Lando chokes.
“Obviously,” she grins, and if he hadn’t come two minutes ago, he’d already be filling out again.
He moves back so he can slot between her legs, and she throws one over his shoulder, strappy heel in the air to give him better access.
Her cunt is red and plump, glistening with her own arousal and his come. He’s probably hallucinating because of all the blood being in his dick for too long, but he swears he can see her swollen clit throbbing.
“Wait,” Alix says, and he looks over to see her reaching to grab his cap from where he discarded it earlier on the bed. She turns to them and smiles innocently, then places it backwards on his head.
“Now you can,” and he doesn’t need telling twice.
He usually doesn't like the overly-salty taste of spunk, prefers men finish anywhere but his mouth, but something about the illicit act of tasting himself mixed in with her feels different. He works his tongue over her, recreating the pattern he used on Alix, sucking, licking, savoring. The wet sounds are obscene, and Stassie's making all these pretty noises. He looks up at her through his lashes, to see Alix with her head on Stassie's shoulder, watching him, fingers disappearing between her own thighs.
Lando can tell they're both close, little shakes rocking their bodies, so he reaches up, taking Stassie's tit in one hand, tweaking her nipple and dips two fingers inside her, and attaches his lips one final time to her clit.
That does it, Stassie first, squeezing on his fingers, head tossed back, tits heaving, then Alix around her own fingers, the breathy little noises from before bubbling up again. When Lando looks up, the girls are kissing, Stassie still shaking, orgasm seeming to stay in her body for longer than Alix's.
When they break apart, their attention quickly turns to him, Stassie somehow already managing to look strangely in control.
"Remember what I said earlier?"
Lando feels like it's a trick question, repeating her query from before, so just cocks his head inquisitively, and wipes the back of his palm across his mouth, tongue flicking out to clean any remnants.
She smiles knowingly and puts two fingers under his chin.
i know everyone’s so productivity pilled and trying to optimize their lives but what if the thing that makes me the happiest is sleeping in until 10 everyday and having an espresso martini after dinner
