#ln 4

[liafics]

☆ lia's birthday calendar

day 8: titfucking x lando (ln4)

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☆ warnings: lando is obsessed w your tits, hints of soft dom!lando, a lot of praise, nipple play, oral fixation, cum on tits, fingering & clit stimulation ⋆ inspo: (18+) (x) (x)

⋆ ‧ ⋅ ☾ ‧ ⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ‧ ⋅

the bedroom is dim with the low glow of whatever movie lando put on.

you’re curled against him, legs tangled and his arm under your head. it feels peaceful. warm, like one of those nights where he’s soft from the inside out. race season is over and the adrenaline has burned out of his system. now he’s just here, with you. quiet. clingy.

lando holds you close. he gives you those small instinctual touches, his fingertips dragging slow patterns on your arm, your waist and the edge of your ribs.

you don’t even notice when his hand ends up under your shirt. it's so subtle, so gentle at first. just warmth against your stomach, sliding up to your ribs as if he’s adjusting his position.

but then he pauses. and you know that pause.

lando isn't paying attention to the movie.

“you good?” you whisper, thinking maybe he’s uncomfortable.

but he just hums, eyes on the screen. “mhm. comfy.”

comfy is not what he is. not with the way his thumb brushes under the curve of your tits, subtle yet way too deliberate.

you try to keep watching the movie. you really do. but his big veiny hands are so warm, and he’s stroking you so softly. every minute he gets a little bolder, like he’s waiting to see how long you’ll pretend that nothing is happening.

his pinky lightly traces the underside of your tits, all slow. then again. and again. each time a little firmer. your breath catches.

“cold?” he asks, still not looking down, voice suspiciously innocent.

“no,” you whisper.

“hmm.” he slides his hand fully up your shirt now, palm covering your tits. “thought you shivered.”

little fucker.

he squeezes your tits. gentle and testing, and you can feel him smile when your hips twitch.

“lando…” you warn.

“what?” he murmurs, thumb brushing your hardened nipple lazily. lando is pretending that he’s just getting comfy.

“just watch the movie, baby.” he mumbles again.

he’s rolling your nipple between his fingers now, so slowly playing with it in circles. you press your thighs together and feel him smirk against your hair.

“thought i told you to watch?"

“you’re, fuck. you’re doing stuff,” you breathe.

he finally looks at you, eyes soft. “oh, am i? i didn’t notice.”

fucking liar.

his big hands cupsyour tits properly now, squeezing and groping. his thumb is dragging over your nipples in lazy flicks that make heat pool low in your stomach. he’s obsessed, he fucking loves your tits. he’s been craving this all day.

his cock is hard against your thigh, and he’s not even trying to hide it.

still, he pretends. lando's eyes go back on the movie. his hands however, are absolutely not paying attention to the movie.

he keeps touching you like it’s muscle memory. his thumbs teasing back and forth, fingers curling around your tits to rub warm circles. he breathes a little heavier, his jaw suddenly tight.

lando is seconds away from losing it, just from shamelessly playing with your tits.

“can’t help it. they’re fucking perfect.”

you blush.

lando shifts you gently, guiding you to lie on your back without breaking eye contact. his gorgeous eyes look so soft, so wanting. he climbs over you, his thighs straddling you and he continues to squeeze your tits gently. his thumbs keep brushing your nipples back and forth until your breathing gets ragged.

“good girl, arms up.” he murmurs softly.

you obey instantly, lifting your arms above your head. the praise hits you hard, it always does. lando loves praising you and your body, and your cunt loves his praise. he looks at you, really looks at you, now that your tits are bare. he leans down and kisses the soft curve of your tits. his lips so slow and lingering.

“softest thing in the whole world, i fucking adore these tits.” he mumbles, lips brushing against your skin.

you arch into him, pushing your tits further into his mouth. his tongue flicks your nipple. it's light teasing, and your whole body jerks. he groans at your cute little reaction.

“fuck… you’re so sensitive tonight.”

ironic. his cock is already leaking through his sweatpants, twitching just from touching your tits.

then he wraps his lips around your nipple, causing soft moans to spill out of you. his tongue circles slowly and obscenely, tracing patterns that make your spine tingle.

he groans against your soft skin. “god, baby… you make the prettiest sounds.”

he sucks harder, and his hand is on the other breast, squeezing it in sync with his mouth. he’s not moving fast. he’s settling in, taking his time to taste you.

then, he gets pushed to his horny limit and pulls out his cock from his stained sweatpants. the slut wasn't even wearing any fucking boxers. his cock drags against your stomach as he shifts lower, precum smearing all warm and slick across your skin. he notices.

“fuck, look. haven’t even touched myself, just your tits.”

god, he sounds so turned on. he strokes himself once slowly and then gently pushes your tits together with his hands. it doesn't even feel filthy, he's being so tender. the sight is surely filthy, though.

“hold them for me, baby.” he whispers.

you do, pushing your tits together for him. he groans in awe.

“good girl, don’t move.”

he slides forward and sinks his cock between them. lando's cock is pressing into the soft valley of your tits, and his head leans back with eyes shut. he whines softly.

“fuck, baby. they're so warm and soft."

he starts thrusting slowly, fucking the soft space you’ve made for him.

his cock is sliding between your tits, his cockhead peeking through near your collarbone with every stroke. the friction melts him instantly. his breath is shaking and his hips are already stuttering. you look so pretty like this, helping him cum and feel good with your pretty tits. you watch lando fall apart, his eyes half lidded and mouth parted. his face is flushed too, just lost in you and your tits.

“look at you. you look so good, lan.” you whisper.

he whimpers. actually fucking whimpers as he keeps fucking your tits. precum keeps leaking from his cock, making your tits even softer and they feel so fucking good for him. you feel his cock throbbing between your tits. his hands squeeze your tits around his cock, adding more pressure to hug his cock so fucking perfectly. he thrusts deeper and faster, breath breaking into little gasps.

“fuck, baby. i'm cumming-”

you feel it. lando's hips are jerking as he spills his cum between your tits, warm and thick across your chest. he mumbles your name, his head falling to your shoulder like the pleasure just knocked him out. he rides out his high, still grinding softly between your cum covered tits.

then, he gets up. he looks wrecked. “god, you’re perfect.”

but he’s not done.

he kisses your collarbone and your throat. his lips trace the underside of your jaw, moving lower again with purpose. his hand slips between your thighs.

“move your legs for me, c'mon baby.”

you spread them without hesitation. lando looks blissful, so fucked out and still so horny.

“you let me get off on your tits, now i’m gonna return the favour.” he murmurs.

his hands reach down to your cunt as he pulls down your underwear. he's playing with your clit. slow, gentle circles that makes your cunt clench around nothing. his fingers work you with the same appreciation he gave your tits, slow and intentional. he slides two thick fingers inside your cunt, curling deep until you’re trembling and whimpering. his thumb never leaves your clit, your hips move in circles to chase more friction.

“is that good?” he whispers, genuinely wanting to give his girl whatever feels best for her.

“lando, god-”

“i know, baby. i know.”

he kisses your tits again while he his fingers keep fucking into you. his tongue is flicking on your nipple, gathering some of his own cum. but he doesn't stop. his fingers keep touching that sweet spot inside you, and all the stimulation hits too hard.

“that's it baby, just let go.”

his thumb presses harder onto your clit, circling and claiming.

you fall apart under him, thighs trembling as you cum with his thick fingers inside you. your back is arching hard, and lando is still teasing your tits with his mouth. he groans when he feels your cunt clench around his fingers, squeezing so nicely.

“there you go, fuck. that’s it, that’s my girl.”

you’re whimpering and overstimulated, grabbing at his wrist and tanned forearms. he finally slows, kissing your chest again until your breathing becomes softer again. lando pulls you into his own chest, arms wrapping tight around you as he settles back against the pillows. he's playing with your hair.

“you okay?” he whispers.

you nod, nuzzling closer to him.

"you look even prettier with my cum on your tits, did you know that?" lando smirks.

"you think my face would look prettier too?"

──── ☆☆☆

© liafics

i have small tits and this was hard to write lmaoooo

[lives-in-midgard]

I think they're cold

[kiyawritesforf1]

WEIRD VIBES ONLY

Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader

Words : 2.5k

The 4+1 times people overheard Lando and his Girlfriend’s weird conversations.

1. The Pit Crew Misadventure

Lando Norris was fresh off a practice lap, helmet still tucked under his arm, when Y/N bounded into the McLaren garage like a caffeinated squirrel. She’d swiped a wrench from a toolbox—because of course she had—and was twirling it like a baton. “So, if we’re doing it in the cockpit,” she said, voice low but not low enough, “I say we go full throttle. Maximum chaos, no holding back. I want sparks flying.”

Lando grinned, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Yeah, but I’d need to adjust the seat first. Can’t have you slipping around when I hit the apex. Precision’s key.”

Dave, a lanky mechanic with a permanent oil smudge on his cheek, was lugging a tire past them when his ears caught the exchange. Cockpit? Full throttle? Slipping around? Sparks? His brain short-circuited. He pictured Lando and Y/N sneaking into the car after hours, doing unspeakable things on the carbon-fiber seat, probably breaking half a dozen FIA regulations in the process. The tire slipped from his grip, bouncing once before rolling into a stack of toolboxes with a clang.

“You alright, mate?” Lando called, eyebrows raised.

Dave didn’t answer. He bolted for the break room, where he found his buddy Pete sipping a lukewarm coffee. “Mate,” Dave hissed, “Lando’s about to defile the car in ways I can’t unsee. Send help. Or a priest.”

Pete choked on his coffee. “What, like, in the car?”

“Full throttle,” Dave whispered, eyes wide. “Sparks and everything.”

Meanwhile, back in the garage, Y/N tossed the wrench onto a workbench. “So, confetti cannons in the sim rig—yes or no?”

“Yes,” Lando said, “but we’re blaming Oscar if it jams.” They high-fived, oblivious to the existential crisis they’d just triggered.

2. The Supermarket Scandal

It was a rare off-day, and Lando and Y/N were prowling the aisles of a Tesco near Silverstone. Y/N, in a hoodie that swallowed her frame, held up a box of Frosted Flakes like it was a sacred artifact. “Okay, but if we’re doing it with the tiger,” she said, “we’ve got to time it perfectly—right when the sugar hits. That’s the sweet spot.”

Lando, pushing a cart with one wobbly wheel, nodded with the seriousness of a race strategist. “Timing’s everything. Too soon, and it’s just messy. Too late, and we’re sticky for hours. I’m not dealing with that again.”

A middle-aged woman in a sensible cardigan—let’s call her Janet—was browsing the oatmeal section nearby. She froze, her hand hovering over a box of Quaker Oats, as her imagination ran wild. Doing it with the tiger? Sugar hits? Sticky for hours? She envisioned some depraved, cereal-mascot-fueled roleplay, complete with Lando in a Tony the Tiger costume and Y/N wielding a can of whipped cream. Her basket trembled in her grip as she backed away, abandoning her oats to escape the depravity.

Later that night, Janet regaled her book club with the tale. “I don’t know what’s wrong with kids these days,” she said, clutching her tea. “That racer boy and his girlfriend are freaky. I’ll never look at Frosted Flakes the same way.”

In reality, Y/N was already rigging their Roomba with a cereal bowl while Lando filmed, cackling as the vacuum skidded across their flat, flinging flakes everywhere. “This is gold,” he said, dodging a stray piece. “TikTok’s gonna lose it.”

“Next time,” Y/N replied, “we add milk.”

3. The Hotel Lobby Horror

The night before the Monaco Grand Prix, Lando and Y/N were sprawled across a plush couch in the hotel lobby, surrounded by marble floors and overpriced chandeliers. Y/N kicked her sneakers off and propped her feet on Lando’s lap. “If we’re using the feathers,” she said, “I want them everywhere—total coverage, no gaps. It’s gotta be epic.”

Lando smirked, poking her foot. “Fine, but I’m not cleaning up after. Last time, I was picking them out of weird places for days. My socks were shedding for a week.”

Behind the reception desk, a concierge named Philippe—crisp suit, impeccable mustache—nearly dropped his tray of complimentary sparkling waters. Feathers? Total coverage? Weird places? His mind conjured a scene straight out of a risqué rom-com: Lando and Y/N tangled in a pile of plucked pillows, feathers drifting through the air like some avant-garde sex ritual. He coughed, adjusted his tie, and spent the rest of his shift warning coworkers to steer clear of Room 312. “They’re… creative,” he muttered. “Very creative.”

Upstairs, Y/N was sketching a feathered dinosaur costume on a napkin while Lando scrolled through gaming forums. “Think we can get it done before the next stream?” she asked.

“Only if we bribe Carlos with pizza,” Lando said. “He’s got the hot glue gun skills.”

4. The Paddock Panic

The paddock at Spa was buzzing with pre-race energy when Y/N sidled up to Lando near the McLaren hospitality tent. She lowered her voice, but the wind carried it just far enough. “I’m telling you, the harness is key. Strap me in tight, and I’m good for at least twenty minutes.”

Lando chuckled, tossing an energy drink can between his hands. “Twenty? Bold. I’d say fifteen tops before you’re begging to get out. You’re not built for that kind of endurance.”

A journalist from Racing Weekly, lurking behind a potted plant with her notebook out, perked up like a bloodhound. Harness? Strap her in? Endurance? She scribbled furiously, her pen practically smoking. This was it—the scoop of the season. She could already see the headline: “Exclusive: Norris and GF’s BDSM Secrets Revealed!” She pitched it to her editor that night, claiming she’d uncovered the spicy underbelly of F1’s golden boy.

Back at the tent, Y/N adjusted the straps on a go-kart harness, grinning at Lando. “Twenty minutes around the track, and I’ll smoke you,” she said. “Loser buys dinner.”

“You’re on,” Lando replied, “but when you tap out at fifteen, I want extra garlic bread.”

+1. The Truth Comes Out

It all came to a head at a McLaren team dinner after the Italian Grand Prix. The restaurant was cozy, all dim lights and clinking wine glasses, with the team sprawled across a long table. Dave the mechanic was there, still haunted by the cockpit fiasco. Janet, who turned out to be Oscar Piastri’s aunt, had tagged along with a friend. Philippe the concierge, off-duty and visiting a cousin in Monza, sat at the bar. The Racing Weekly journalist hovered near the dessert cart, hoping for more dirt.

Lando and Y/N were at the end of the table, heads bent together as usual. Y/N tapped her fork against her plate. “Lando, if we’re doing the whipped cream thing tonight, we need to prep the tarp. I’m not scrubbing the ceiling again.”

Lando nodded, chewing a breadstick. “Yeah, last time it got everywhere—total disaster. Took me an hour to unstick my shoes.”

The eavesdroppers leaned in, senses tingling. Dave whispered to Pete, “Whipped cream in the cockpit?” Janet clutched her pearls, imagining a dairy-drenched tiger romp. Philippe pictured feathers and cream, while the journalist scribbled, “Kinky Dessert Fetish Confirmed.”

Then Y/N pulled out her phone and shoved it in Lando’s face. “Look, here’s the vid from last time,” she said, loud enough for the table to hear. The screen showed their kitchen, a tarp on the floor, and a towering, wobbly whipped-cream sculpture that collapsed mid-build, splattering them both. Lando’s shriek of “MY HAIR!” echoed through the restaurant as Y/N doubled over laughing on the video.

The table erupted. Oscar snorted into his pasta. “You two are idiots,” he said. Zak Brown shook his head, grinning. “I don’t even want to know.”

Dave dropped his fork. Janet blinked, her scandal evaporating. Philippe coughed into his wine, and the journalist snapped her notebook shut, muttering, “Well, that’s not printable.”

Y/N caught the stares and smirked. “What? It was for a charity bake-off livestream. We raised, like, two grand.”

Lando leaned back, arms behind his head. “Next time, we’re building a spaghetti catapult. Way less sticky.”

The eavesdroppers slunk away, red-faced, as Lando and Y/N clinked glasses, already plotting their next absurd adventure. Their dynamic was weird—borderline unhinged—but it was theirs. Cute, chaotic, and definitely not what anyone thought. Best to just leave them to it.

Please like and repost

[hadalplumes]

Original post

[rubywillkins]

Hi babes hope your doing well

Could I have a dark mocha, a shot of espresso, with almond and hemp milk, and French toast, hot dog, spaghetti and a mushroom burger, with crispy squid and chicken Parmesan

With lando please thank you!

Sure Darling❤

Lando Norris|

You Don’t Get to Miss Me

Pairing lando fem reader

Warning rough, explicit

dark mocha dating shot of espresso rough sex almond milk vaginal sex hemp milk squirting French toast spanking hot dog size kink paghetti handcuffs mushroom burger pain kink crispy squid “Do you think, you deserve a reward/punishment?” chicken Parmesan “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“Some days I wonder if I blow through ..

Every second you're not with me / I lose control…”

The flat was too quiet when Lando walked in, the kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful — just cold.

He kicked off his shoes with a sigh, running a hand through his messy curls as he tossed his keys into the bowl by the door. He was late. Again.

The moment his eyes landed on her, sitting on the edge of the couch, legs crossed, arms folded, he knew.

Trouble.

“Hey,” he said softly, like the right tone might defuse it. “Sorry I’m late. Debrief went long.”

Y/N didn’t move. Not even a blink. “It’s been three days, Lando.”

He froze mid-step, brows knitting. “Three days since what?”

“Since we’ve had a real conversation,” she said flatly. “Since you looked at me like I mattered more than your phone.”

Lando sighed, stepping closer. “Come on, it’s been a crazy week. You know how the schedule’s been—”

“Don’t,” she cut in sharply, standing now. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide behind the race, the cameras, the team. You think I don’t know how hard you work? I do. But lately, it feels like I’m just another thing on your to-do list.”

“That’s not fair,” he muttered, jaw tightening. “You know I care about you.”

“You say that, but I’m the one sitting alone at every dinner we plan. I’m the one talking to a version of you who’s always halfway out the door.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and Lando’s shoulders dropped, guilt threading through his chest.

He stepped forward again, gentler now. “Y/N, I’m not trying to push you away. I’m just… tired. The pressure’s getting to me. I didn’t know how to balance it all.”

She looked up at him, something aching behind her eyes. “I don’t need perfect. I just need to feel like I matter to you.”

“You do.” The words came out hoarse.

“Then show me,” she whispered. “Because right now, I don’t believe you.”

That snapped something in him — not anger, not defensiveness. Just this overwhelming need to make her feel it.

Lando closed the distance between them, fast.

His hands were suddenly at her waist, pulling her to him. “You think I don’t want you? That I don’t think about you all day even when I’m too fucking busy to breathe?”

His mouth was at her ear now, breath hot and uneven.

“You think I don’t go crazy every night I fall asleep without you next to me?”

She didn’t answer. Her chest rose and fell in quick bursts, lips parted, heat rising between them like a fuse about to spark.

His grip on her tightened, voice lower. “You don’t get to say I don’t care. You don’t get to act like I’m not here, dying to touch you.”

“Then do it,” she breathed, a challenge more than a plea. “Show me.”

And just like that — it all snapped.

His mouth was on hers, rough and hungry, hands roaming her back like he couldn’t decide whether to hold her together or tear her apart. She grabbed at his shirt, dragging him closer, and they stumbled blindly toward the bedroom, neither bothering to turn on the lights.

What followed was fire — messy, consuming, and edged in everything they’d both been too stubborn to say.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was frustration and desperation and I need you in every movement, every breath, every unspoken word.

Y/n's hips clawed at him, grinding her slick pussy against his abs, her hot breath raining down on his chest. She teased and begged for more, but Lando held her off, savoring her frustration. His eyes bored into hers, challenging.

"Who's in control here?" he growled.

"Me," she hissed, trying to wriggle free.

His lip curled into a smug smile. "Wrong answer."

He flipped her onto her stomach, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. His other hand came down hard on her round ass, the room ringing with the crack of flesh on flesh. She gasped, her back arching as the pain radiated.

"You think that hurt?" he asked, spanking her again, harder. She moaned, her body twisting under his hold. "Fuck you," she spat, eyes wild and defiant.

"And who's in control now?" he growled, rubbing his cock against her wet folds.

She panted, "You are. You are."

"Damn right."

His hips surged forward, burying his cock deep inside her. She groaned, the sound guttural and raw. He rammed into her, each thrust hard and punishing, chasing his own pleasure. His mind went blank, lost in the sensation of her body under his.

Y/n clawed at the sheets, grunting with each violent thrust. Suddenly, she panted, "I'm gonna come."

Lando stopped, his cock buried deep. He glared down at her, feeling her strain against him. She gasped as he withdrew, inch by inch, leaving her empty and wanting.

"Lando, you bastard!" she shouted, her body going limp under his.

He loomed over her. "Do you think you deserve a reward or punishment?"

He stared into her eyes, waiting.

She glared back at him, her chest heaving, and said, "I don't know. Do I?"

He smirked, then rolled off her, reaching into the nightstand drawer. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, the metal glinting in the dim light. "Let's find out."

She eyed the cuffs and Lando's grim expression. She looked back over her shoulder at him as he locked one cuff around her wrist, then the other to the bed frame. She tested them, but they held fast. Her throat went dry, her heart pounded, and her pussy flared hot — betraying her as she secretly yearned for the punishment.

He circled his fingers over her ass. "You want me to leave you like this, spread and helpless? Or do you want me to fuck you senseless?"

She gritted her teeth. "I want you to fuck me."

"No," he replied, and his palm came down hard across the soft flesh of her ass.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in a silent cry. Pain flared across her skin, but it was the fire in his eyes that made her pant with lust. He was a god who had created her just for this — to take and use, punish and reward.

He spanked her again, his handprint blooming red on her creamy skin. She mewled, her body squirming and writhing. Her pussy dripped, slick with her arousal, her breasts rubbed against the sheets, her nipples hardening with each slap.

Lando paused, his breath ragged. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "I’m going to fucking ruin you," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "I’m going to make you scream. I’m going to make you beg. And then, I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll forget your own name."

She shuddered, her body aching with need. "Yes," she groaned, her hips lifting, begging for more. Her fingers flexed and clenched in the cuffs, her body taut, ready to snap. "Do it."

Lando stood, his cock throbbing, and kicked her legs wider apart. He grabbed her hips, tilting them up, exposing her completely. He admired his handiwork, the red welts on her ass, the glistening pussy eager for more. He ran his fingers through her folds, feeling her heat, her wetness. She shivered, pushing back against his touch.

"I'm going to fill you up, Yin," he growled, pressing the head of his cock against her entrance. "Every inch of you is going to know who owns you."

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching her wide. She groaned, her body tensing as she took him. He was thick, long, and she could feel every ridge, every vein as he filled her. He bottomed out, his hips flush against her ass, and he leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back.

"Fuck, you're tight," he grunted, pulling out slowly, then slamming back in. She gasped, her body jolting with the force. He set a punishing pace, each thrust deep and hard, his hips slapping against her ass. She could feel him everywhere, his cock hitting spots she didn't know existed, his body crushing hers.

Her breath hitched as he reached around, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed in tight circles, the sensation overwhelming. She tugged at the cuffs, her body writhing, her mind spiraling. He was too much, too big, too intense. She could feel her orgasm building, a pressure coiling in her belly.

Suddenly, he stopped, his cock pulsing inside her. She whimpered, her body aching for release. "Please," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Please, Lando, I need to come."

He chuckled, a low, dark sound. "Not yet," he said, pulling out completely. She cried out, her body empty and aching. He flipped her onto her back, his eyes wild, his cock glistening with her juices. "I want to see your face when you come," he said, grabbing her thighs and pushing them up to her chest. He drove back into her, hard and deep. She screamed, her body arching off the bed. He prowled over her, his hands pinning her wrists above her head. He was everywhere, his body covering hers, his cock filling her, his breath hot on her face. She could feel his size, his strength, his power. She was trapped, helpless, and she loved it. "Come for me, Y/n," he commanded, his hips pounding into hers. "Come for me now."

The chill of the air against her wet skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from her body. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one echoing in the room as Lando's hips drove into hers with relentless force. His cock filled her completely, stretching her wide, every thrust pushing her closer to the edge.

"Lando," she screamed, her voice raw and desperate. "I can't—it's too much."

"Not enough," he growled, his teeth bared in a fierce grin. He shifted his angle, his cock hitting a spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. "You can take more. You will take more."

His fingers dug into her thighs, his grip bruising as he held her open for his assault. His hips slapped against hers, the sound wet and obscene, a symphony of their debauchery. She could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as it slid in and out of her, the friction almost unbearable.

He leaned down, his tongue tracing the line of her jaw. "I want to feel you come around me, Y/n," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "I want to feel you squeeze my cock so tight, you milk every fucking drop out of me."

She whimpered, her body trembling as she tried to hold on. Her pussy clenched around him, her inner muscles spasming as she teetered on the brink. He could feel it, his cock pulsing in response. He released one of her thighs, his hand snaking between them. His fingers found her clit, rubbing it in rough, insistent circles.

"Come, Y/n," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Come now."

Her body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She screamed, her back arching off the bed as her pussy clenched around his cock. She could feel every pulse, every spasm, her body milking him, begging for his release.

Lando groaned, his hips stuttering as he fought for control. But it was too late. Her orgasm triggered his, his cock swelling inside her as he came with a roar. He thrust deep, his hips grinding against hers as he filled her with his seed. She could feel it, hot and wet, coating her insides, dripping out of her as he pulled out slightly before thrusting back in, chasing every last drop of pleasure. His body shook, his breath ragged as he rode out his orgasm, his cock pulsing inside her. He collapsed onto her, his body slick with sweat, his breath hot on her neck. She could feel his heart pounding, matching the rhythm of her own, their bodies slick and tangled. Her pussy still fluttered around him, her body unwilling to let go and he licked the sweat from her neck.

Y/N lay on her back, chest still rising and falling rapidly, her lips swollen, eyes distant — like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or kiss him again.

Lando turned onto his side slowly, brushing his thumb against her cheek, not yet trusting his voice.

She swallowed thickly. “That was…”

“Too much?” he asked, voice raw.

She shook her head. “No. Just… a lot.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes met his, softer now. “For what?”

“For being absent. For letting you feel like you weren’t important. For needing a fight to finally wake the hell up.”

Y/N rolled toward him, tucking herself into his chest, her fingers drawing small circles over his ribs. “I didn’t want perfect, Lando,” she whispered. “Just you.”

“You’ve always had me,” he murmured into her hair. “Even when I was stupid and didn’t show it.”

His hand found her lower back, gentle now, tracing soothing patterns.

He kissed the crown of her head — slower this time, like an apology sealed with warmth.

And for the first time in days, she let herself breathe easy in his arms.

[reeneeart]

Just saw ur reblog. What were Maomaos inner thoughts as she was about to chop off her finger?

Her thoughts are very angsty, not at all like the anime made it seem. Here are screenshots of that LN section:

[marla-consumes-media]

i offer you:

a disappointed father and moody son

[igdrasii]

For fucks sake Julius!

This grape head is so inept at speaking that he’s making me seriously consider if he’s worse then Arc 3 Subaru when he’s trying to negotiate with the Candidates. What is this?!

This utter circus by Julius is even worse by the fact that Subaru genuinely was still trying to maintain what he thought was respectful language, but Julius going into a classist rant - which I’ll touch on more deeply in a sec - basically made Subaru see Julius as this stuck up Noble who got his position based on birth & no actual merit which is what led to Subaru finally sniping back once Julius had insulted him with nasty language MULTIPLE times already.

On the classist rant here, this honestly feels like Julius sort of.. projecting his issues onto Subaru? Like, he gets all animated about this which he wasn’t acting like previously. This is making me wonder if Julius is some illegitimate Juukulius or maybe from a Branch Family of the Juukulius family? Arc 6 I hear does contain his named chapter and hooooh boy. When I get there, I want to see his POV on this disaster + whatever the hell his Family situation with the Juukulius’s is like to make him act this Prideful.

At the very least, the way Julius widens his eyes here towards the end of the snippet + him walking away implies Julius internally might’ve respected Subaru here for his actions despite the outward language he utilized.