Summary : Lando wears one stupid shirt in a club without thinking about the consequences. But when Y/N, the girl he has been unsuccessfully flirting with for years, finally notices him, maybe the chaos is worth it.
Pairing : Lando Norris x reader
Genre : suggestive, smau
Face claim : Madelyne Cline
Main Masterlist
@_f1 gossip:
📹 Lando Norris was out last night, taking one of his friends shirt that says: “EAT PUSSY IT’S VEGAN.”
user1: sir??? the shirt says what ???
user2: not him wearing it like he’d been waiting his entire life for that exact shirt
user3: whoever filmed this needs an award 😭
user4: he knew. HE KNEW what he was doing.
user5: his pr team is currently drafting a resignation letter
user6: he needs to get on his knees and prove it
user7: don't ask me the color of anything
user8: well we like men who are ready to give heads
yourusername: god he is so unserious
liked by @_lando
user9: NOT THE LIKE????
user10: y/n, babe, you have approximately thirty seconds before he slides into your dms.
user11: wait...THE y/n? as in the girl he has been liking every single photo of since 2023??
user12: girl go get your man
Instagram DMs
lando:
unserious?
yourusername:
you swapped shirts with a stranger in a club because you thought the slogan was funny
lando:
not just funny
it suited me
yourusername:
that is exactly why you’re unserious
lando:
i have talents, you know
yourusername:
being a menace is not a talent
lando:
i’m more talking about being talented at eating stuff
yourusername:
lando.
lando:
what?
it's true, you don't belived me?
yourusername:
you are genuinely terrible at flirting
lando:
was that flirting?
yourusername:
you tell me
lando:
fine.
wanna go eat dinner with me?
yourusername:
no. for the fith time this month, no.
lando:
no to dinner or no to me?
yourusername:
yes.
lando:
that is not an answer
yourusername:
it is the only answer you deserve after that line
lando:
harsh.
yourusername:
accurate.
lando:
so there’s no chance?
yourusername:
there is a chance you learn how to flirt before trying again
lando:
cruel. but fair
yourusername:
goodnight, lando
lando:
goodnight, future dinner date
yourusername:
you're delusional
@_yourusername
Too spicy for you 🌶️
❤️ 186,492 likes
liked by lando and others
user1: OH MY GOD. they’re communicating exclusively through shirt slogans now.
lando: I like spicy food
user3: this is the worst flirting I have ever witnessed and I need it framed in a museum.
user4: he took one look at that shirt and forgot how to act normal.
user5: “I like spicy food” sir this is a public comment section, please behave.
user6: no because they are having an entire conversation through clothing and captions 😭
user7 the way he said that like he has not already been rejected twice this week.
user8: someone confiscate his phone before he says something worse.
Instagram DMs
lando:
wdym you’re too spicy for meeee?
yourusername:
couldn’t handle me. it’s all norris
lando:
whyyy?
yourusername:
because.
lando:
that is not an answer
yourusername:
it’s the only one you’re getting
lando:
please. just one date.
just to show you i’m nice and funny
lando
and then maybe more, eventually, to show you why i wore that shirt the other day…it’s a true passion
yourusername:
what is, lando?
wearing terrible shirts?
lando:
no, you know what i mean
yourusername:
if this is your attempt to imply you’re very talented at whatever that shirt was suggesting, this is actually terrible flirting
lando:
why? you don’t you believe me?
yourusername:
i don’t, actually
lando
just so you know, i’ve had girls coming in seconds just from that
yourusername:
they were just too polite to tell you it was shit, lando
lando:
their legs shaking tell me otherwise darling
yourusername:
most boys genuinely don’t have a clue what they’re doing
lando:
not me, then
yourusername:
you’re way too confident, lando
lando:
confidence is attractive
yourusername:
not when it’s completely unearned
lando:
one date.
i’ll prove it to you
yourusername:
this is still a no
lando:
you’re impossible
yourusername:
keep dreaming, club-shirt thief
@_lando
Refuelling properly before the next one 🍓✈️
@onflightinternational
❤️ 942,817 likes
liked by yourusername and others
user: not the pr-approved fruit post two days after the shirt incident 😭
user2: his team definitely said, “post something wholesome. make people forget the club video.”
user3: this is so aggressively out of character after seeing him take his shirt off for a man wearing that slogan
user4: lando norris promoting healthy eating while the entire internet remembers a very different definition of “vegan.”
user5: someone needs to tell him the fruit isn’t going to distract us. we saw the video, babe
user6: he’s trying way too hard to look innocent here
user7: “refuelling properly” SIR. after that week, you cannot use words like that casually
user8: i suddenly understand why y/n said he was unserious
yourusername: since when do you eat fruit?
lando: told you i’m vegan now 😉
user9: HE DID NOT
user10: they are still having their whole relationship through public comments. someone confiscate both their phones
user11: y/n walked directly into that one and he has been waiting for his chance all day
user12: lando, one normal post. that’s all we asked for
@_yourusername
The light was good so obviously i had to do a photoshoot
❤️ 241,883 likes
liked by lando and others
user1: this is genuinely the most beautiful set of photos i have ever seen
user2: she saw a camera flash and turned it into a magazine cover. iconic behavior
user3: you were meant to be photographed forever, actually
user4: no because she is so effortlessly pretty it makes me angry
user5: the way she can make lying on a TV console look like high fashion???
user6: someone get this woman on the cover of vogue immediately
user7: oh she knew exactly what she was doing with these
lando: I wish I was this TV console btw
user8: LANDO????
user9: somebody take his phone. immediately.
user10: he is not even pretending to be subtle anymore 😭
user11: “btw” as if he did not just throw himself directly into the comment section
user12: lando norris has officially entered his public embarrassment era
user13: THEY ARE FLIRTING IN FRONT OF US AGAIN
Instagram DMs
yourusername:
stop commenting stuff like that under my posts
lando:
what? it’s true.
yourusername:
lando.
lando:
you look good
just though you'll look even better under me
yourusername:
please if we ever do it, I'm on top
lando:
i'd love to see that, does that mean you wanna go out for a drink?
yourusername:
no.
lando:
oh directly going for the sex part, ok, i'm in for that as well
yourusername:
you’re dreaming
lando:
of you?
yes. but you don't wanna know what sort of dream they are
yourusername:
i have the image lando thank you very much
lando:
good, you could think about it next time you touch yourself, goodnight love
yourusername:
goodnight, lando...
@_yourusername Instagram Story
Out with friends tonight ✨
Instagram DMs
lando:
which club are you going to?
yourusername:
why?
lando:
just curious
yourusername:
you are never “just curious.”
lando:
answer the question
yourusername:
twiga
lando:
what a surprise
yourusername:
what?
lando:
i’m there as well
yourusername:
you are lying
lando:
look to your left
yourusername:
that is actually terrifying
lando:
you look happy to see me
yourusername:
i look concerned
lando:
same thing, basically
lando:
maybe you’ll see me later then
yourusername:
i have seen you already. unfortunately
lando:
hope you’re thirsty
yourusername:
why?
lando:
because i’m totally buying you a drink, or if you're thristy for something else, ask me...
yourusername:
are you actually talking about sex?
lando:
only if you want it to be
yourusername:
lando...
lando:
relax. we could have a drink first
i’ll be charming and completely normal
yourusername:
you have never been completely normal a day in your life
lando:
but you’re still coming over?
yourusername:
maybe.
lando:
that’s basically a yes
yourusername:
do not get ahead of yoursel
@_lando private Instagram Story
Your drink is waiting for you 🍸
Instagram DMs
yourusername:
stop flirting.
lando:
i’m not flirting
i’m just saying facts
lando:
wanna go get dessert then?
yourusername:
why would i have dessert, lando?
lando:
you are the dessert, darling
yourusername:
god, again with that?
lando:
i’m one hundred percent sure that if you let me show you how good i am with my mouth, you’d stop calling me insufferable
yourusername:
i just don’t believe you. that’s all
lando:
yeah?
want me to prove it?
yourusername:
you don’t have the guts to get on your knees for me in a club bathroom, lando
lando:
oh, you think?
lando:
just to remind you, i was shirtless in front of half of monaco wearing that ridiculous shirt a few days ago
i’m not scared of this
lando:
are you?
yourusername:
you’re an idiot. what if people see?
lando:
then they see
i don’t care
yourusername:
this is not me being interested, okay?
i’m just tipsy and it’s been a long time
lando:
don’t worry, sweetheart
i’ll change your mind
yourusername:
so sure of yourself, huh?
lando:
oh, yeah
lando:
seeing me between your legs will make you rethink every single mean things you’ve ever told me, baby.
yourusername:
stop saying stuff like this.
lando:
why?
does it turn you on?
yourusername:
we are in public, lando.
lando:
then let’s go somewhere private
lando:
unless you want me to eat you out on the table in the middle of the club's dancefloor
yourusername:
stop.
lando:
make me.
yourusername:
bathroom. now.
lando:
as you wish, ma’am
lando:
i like when you give me orders
yourusername:
just stop talking.
lando:
already on my way
@_f1 gossip:
📸 Lando Norris and Y/N were spotted arriving at the same Monaco club separately, disappearing toward the bathrooms together, and leaving not long after.
user1: FINALLY HE SUCCEEDED 😭
user2: he spent years embarrassing himself in her comments and it actually worked???
user3: they went to the bathroom together and left twenty minutes later. i am choosing not to ask questions
user4: what the hell happened in that bathroom
user5: this man has been asking her out since the dawn of time. let him have this
user6: the way they left so soon after is sending me. like neither of them even tried to pretend
user7: i need everyone to remember that shirt from a few days ago because suddenly it feels less like a joke
user8: lando saw her saying “too spicy for you” and made it his life’s mission to prove her wrong
user9: the quickie in the batheroom must have been good for them to leave this fast
user10: the pr team is going to wake up, see these photos, and immediately regret letting him out
user11: i just know he is unbearably smug today
@_yourusername
He wasn’t wrong, he actually knows what he’s doing.
❤️ 518,204 likes
liked by @_lando and others
user1: Y/N????? you cannot post this after disappearing into a club bathroom with him
user2: did she just publicly give him a five-star review???
user3: sooo it was that good huh? good for you honestly
user4: not the mysterious bathroom trip, the car make-out photos, and now THIS caption. i need a minute
user5: he was acting so confident with that shirt on and apparently he had a reason for it
user6: he 100% eat her out in that toilet cabin
user7: so what happened after she went home with him anyway?? the plot is plotting
user8: the club bathroom was apparently only the beginning because they left together SO fast
lando: could do it again anytime soon, baby 😉
liked by yourusername
user9: LANDO. THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE.
user9: he is never beating the allegations now
user10: at least we know what they did in that club bathroom
user11: he did went on his knees and prove it
user12: the smugness in this comment is actually outrageous
yourusername: you’re insufferable
lando: and yet you still let me prove my point
user13: I AM LOOKING AWAY RESPECTFULLY BUT ALSO NOT AT ALL
I’m in a smutty mood 😔 can I request girlfriend reader x lando where they’re on their first vacation and everytime they’re trying to spice things up one of their friends interrupts them and then the reader ends up jacking lando off under the covers or a blanket in a kinda semi public place (not to be perverted🤓) bc she can sense that lando is agitated and the more she whispers in his ear the more he can’t control himself and you can take it in any direction u think then🫠🤗
Interrupted
Lando Norris x Girlfriend!reader
Synopsis: Lando and his girlfriend can’t stop getting interrupted, so she takes it into in her own hands (literally)
Warning: smut, dirty talk, exhibition-ish..
Moonlight Radio: Loved writing this, i hope u like it!
The villa was everything you'd imagined and more—white stone walls, infinity pool overlooking the Mediterranean, and a master bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the space with golden afternoon light. You'd barely made it through the door before Lando's hands were on your waist, spinning you around to face him.
"Finally," he breathed against your lips, backing you toward the massive bed. "Been thinking about this since we left London."
You smiled into the kiss, fingers already working at the buttons of his linen shirt. "It's been three hours, Lan."
"Three hours too long." His mouth moved to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear that made your knees weak. Your shirt hit the floor, followed quickly by his. The feeling of his bare chest against yours sent heat pooling low in your belly.
Lando's hands slid down your sides, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts. "God, you're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, eyes dark with want as he looked at you. "Can't believe I get you all to myself for a whole week."
"Then stop talking and do something about it," you teased, pulling him down onto the bed with you.
He groaned, settling between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against you through too many layers of fabric. His mouth found yours again, hungry and demanding, as his hands roamed your body—cupping your breasts through your bra, sliding down your stomach, fingers dancing along the edge of your shorts.
You arched into his touch, desperate for more. Your own hands explored the planes of his back, the flex of his shoulders, before sliding down to palm him through his shorts. He was already hard, straining against the fabric, and the sound he made when you squeezed gently was absolutely sinful.
"Fuck, baby," Lando gasped, hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Need you so bad."
His fingers finally—*finally*—slipped beneath your waistband, and you were just about to beg him to take everything off when—
*Knock knock knock.*
You both froze.
"Lando? Mate, you in there?" Max's voice came through the door. "Need help bringing the rest of the stuff in from the cars!"
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Lando muttered against your collarbone, his entire body tense with frustration.
"Just ignore him," you whispered, threading your fingers through his curls and trying to pull him back down.
*Knock knock knock.* "Lando? I know you're in there, I saw you come upstairs!"
Lando dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a groan that was equal parts arousal and annoyance. "I'm going to kill him."
"Later," you said, even as you reluctantly pushed at his shoulders. "Go help before he breaks down the door."
The look Lando gave you was pure agony. "Tonight," he said firmly, stealing one more deep kiss before climbing off you. "Tonight, I'm locking that fucking door and throwing my phone out the window."
You watched him pull his shirt back on, admiring the view even as disappointment settled in your chest. "I'm holding you to that."
---
By the time evening rolled around, you'd both been roped into helping set up the villa, making dinner with everyone, and sitting through what felt like hours of Max and P arguing about the best way to organize the kitchen. The sexual tension between you and Lando was palpable—every brush of his hand against yours, every heated look across the dinner table, every whispered promise of "later" that made your skin flush.
When everyone finally started heading inside after dinner, claiming exhaustion from travel, you caught Lando's eye and tilted your head toward the pool area. He grinned, that mischievous smile that always made your heart race, and nodded.
You waited a few minutes before slipping outside, the warm night air kissing your skin. The pool lights cast everything in a soft blue glow, and steam rose from the hot tub in the corner. You'd just stepped onto the deck when arms wrapped around you from behind.
"Thought they'd never leave," Lando murmured into your ear, his hands already sliding under your cover-up.
You turned in his arms, looping yours around his neck. "We have to be quiet. They're just inside."
"Then you better not scream," he teased, walking you backward toward the hot tub.
The water was perfect—hot enough to relax your muscles but not uncomfortable. Lando pulled you onto his lap as soon as you were both settled, and you could feel exactly how much he'd been thinking about this all evening.
"Fuck, I've been dying to touch you," he groaned, hands sliding up your thighs beneath the water. His mouth found yours, the kiss immediately desperate and needy. You ground down against him, swallowing his moan.
Your bikini top was gone in seconds, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they were hard peaks. You gasped against his mouth, hips rolling against the hard length of him.
"Lando," you breathed, reaching down to palm him through his swim trunks. He was rock hard, and the way he thrust into your hand made you clench with need.
"Need to be inside you," he panted, fingers hooking into your bikini bottoms. "Right fucking now."
His hand slipped between your thighs, fingers finding you already wet—and not from the water. He groaned when he felt how ready you were, circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you see stars.
"So wet for me, baby," he murmured against your neck. "Been thinking about this pussy all day."
You were just reaching for the waistband of his trunks when—
"There you guys are!" Pietra's cheerful voice rang out across the deck. "I made margaritas!"
You and Lando sprang apart so fast you nearly fell off his lap. You scrambled to find your bikini top under the water while Lando strategically positioned himself behind you, clearly trying to hide his very obvious erection.
"Oh, uh, thanks P," you managed, voice slightly strangled as you finally got your top back on.
"No problem! Thought you might want some since you missed cocktail hour." She set two glasses down on the edge of the hot tub, completely oblivious to what she'd interrupted. "You guys okay? You look flushed."
"Just hot," Lando said through gritted teeth. "From the hot tub."
"Right, well, don't stay in too long! See you tomorrow!" She bounced back inside, and you felt Lando's entire body sag with frustration behind you.
"I'm cursed," he muttered. "We're cursed. This vacation is cursed."
You couldn't help but laugh, even as your own body thrummed with unfulfilled need. "Third time's the charm?"
"It fucking better be."
---
Back in the bedroom, door locked and phone on silent, Lando was on you before you'd even fully closed the door. He pressed you against it, mouth hot and demanding on yours, hands everywhere at once.
"No more interruptions," he growled, lifting you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist automatically as he carried you to the bed. "I don't care if the villa's on fire, I'm not stopping this time."
He laid you down with surprising gentleness given the hunger in his eyes, then proceeded to strip you with far less patience. Your sundress hit the floor, followed by your underwear, and then you were completely bare beneath him.
"Fucking perfect," he breathed, drinking in the sight of you. His hands skimmed up your inner thighs, spreading you open for him. "Been dreaming about tasting you."
He settled between your legs, and the first stroke of his tongue against you made you cry out. He groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. His tongue circled your clit, then dipped inside you, then back to that bundle of nerves that had you fisting the sheets.
"Lando, fuck, yes," you gasped, hips lifting to meet his mouth. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right while his tongue worked your clit, and you could feel your orgasm building embarrassingly fast.
"That's it, baby," he murmured against you. "Come on my tongue. Want to feel you."
You were right there, right on the edge, thighs trembling and breath coming in short gasps, when his phone lit up on the nightstand with a buzz.
Then another.
Then three more in rapid succession.
"Ignore it," you panted, so close you could taste it.
But Lando had already lifted his head, frowning at the phone. "It's Carlos. Says it's important."
"Lando—"
*Buzz buzz buzz.*
"Fuck." He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled curls. "He's calling now. He wouldn't unless—"
"Answer it," you sighed, flopping back against the pillows in defeat.
The call was brief—something about needing Lando's advice on a contract issue that apparently couldn't wait until morning. By the time he hung up, the moment was thoroughly ruined, and you could see the frustration radiating off him in waves.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking genuinely miserable. "I'm so fucking sorry."
You sat up, cupping his face in your hands. "It's okay. It's not your fault."
"I just wanted this vacation to be perfect. Wanted to finally have time with just you, and instead we can't get five fucking minutes without—" He cut himself off with a frustrated sound.
An idea formed in your mind. A risky, slightly insane idea, but the more you thought about it, the more appealing it became. Lando was wound so tight he was practically vibrating with tension, and you knew exactly how to help him.
"Come on," you said, pulling on your pajamas—a thin tank top and sleep shorts. "Let's go watch a movie with everyone."
He looked at you like you'd grown a second head. "What?"
"Trust me," you said with a smile that promised trouble.
---
The living room was dimly lit, just the glow from the massive TV and a few ambient lights. Max and P were curled up on one couch, Carlos and his girlfriend on another, and a few other friends scattered in armchairs. You led Lando to the large sectional in the back, grabbing the oversized throw blanket from the back of it.
"What are we watching?" you asked innocently as you settled in, spreading the blanket over both of your laps.
"Some action movie Carlos picked," Max called back. "Just started."
Perfect.
You snuggled into Lando's side, his arm automatically coming around your shoulders. To anyone watching, you looked like any other couple getting comfortable for a movie. But under the blanket, your hand was sliding up his thigh.
Lando stiffened slightly, glancing down at you with wide eyes. You kept your expression neutral, focused on the TV, even as your fingers traced higher.
"What are you doing?" he whispered, so quietly you almost didn't hear him.
"Helping you relax," you murmured back, your hand finally reaching the growing bulge in his sweatpants. You palmed him gently, feeling him harden further under your touch. "You're so tense, baby. Let me take care of you."
"Are you insane?" But even as he said it, his hips shifted slightly, pressing into your hand. "They're right there."
"Then you better stay quiet." You slipped your hand beneath his waistband, fingers wrapping around his cock. He was already hard, hot and heavy in your palm, and you felt him shudder as you gave him a slow stroke.
"Fuck," he breathed, the word barely audible.
You kept your movements subtle, slow strokes hidden beneath the blanket while explosions played out on the TV screen. Lando's breathing had gone shallow, his arm tightening around your shoulders as he fought to stay still.
"You've been so good today," you whispered directly into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. "So patient. But I could tell how badly you needed this. Could feel how hard you were in the hot tub."
His cock twitched in your hand, and you smiled against his shoulder. You picked up the pace slightly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke the way you knew drove him crazy.
"Been thinking about your cock all day," you continued, keeping your voice low and breathy. "Thinking about how good you feel inside me. How you stretch me. How deep you get."
"Baby, please," he whispered, and you could hear the desperation in his voice. His hips were moving now in tiny, almost imperceptible thrusts into your fist.
"Please what?" you teased, thumb swiping over the head of his cock, spreading the precum you found there. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?"
"Don't—fuck—don't stop." His free hand gripped the edge of the blanket, knuckles white.
On screen, a car chase was reaching its climax, the sound effects providing perfect cover for the soft, slick sounds of your hand working his cock. You could feel him getting close—his breathing was ragged, his body tense, and he was leaking steadily now, making each stroke easier.
"You're doing so well," you praised, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Staying so quiet while I stroke your cock. Bet you want to moan for me, don't you? Want to tell me how good it feels?"
"Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Feels so fucking good."
"Want to come for me, baby?" You increased your pace, your grip tightening slightly. "Want to come all over my hand while our friends are sitting right there, completely clueless?"
His head fell back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut. You could see the muscle in his jaw ticking as he fought to maintain control.
"Look at me," you commanded softly.
His eyes opened, meeting yours, and the raw need you saw there sent heat flooding through you. You held his gaze as you whispered, "Come for me, Lando. Right now."
That was all it took. His whole body went rigid, cock pulsing in your hand as he came, spilling hot over your fingers. You worked him through it, slow strokes as he bit down on his lip hard enough to leave marks, fighting to stay silent. His eyes never left yours, dark and intense and so full of want it made you clench.
When the last aftershock had passed, he slumped against you, breathing hard. You carefully withdrew your hand, using the blanket to discreetly clean your fingers while he tucked himself back into his sweatpants.
"You're incredible," he murmured into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "And absolutely insane."
"You loved it," you whispered back, grinning.
"Fucking loved it," he agreed. Then, quieter, "But you're in so much trouble later."
"Promise?"
His hand slid under the blanket, fingers trailing up your thigh. "Oh, I promise. The second we're alone, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your own name."
You shivered, already anticipating it. "I'm counting on it."
For now, though, you settled against his chest, his arm warm around you, both of you finally relaxed as the movie played on. And if anyone noticed the flush on Lando's cheeks or the satisfied smile on your face, they were kind enough not to mention it.
Tomorrow, you'd have the whole day. But tonight, this was enough—this secret moment, this delicious risk, this perfect relief after a day of frustration.
And later, when you finally made it back to that locked bedroom, Lando made good on every single promise.
summary: a day out on the mediterranean with your friends should be nothing more than sun, swimming and a little harmless flirting with your boyfriend. unfortunately, lando has other plans, and the tiny cabin below deck suddenly seems a lot more interesting than the party upstairs.
warnings: teasing, dirty talk, praise, degradation, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), deepthroat, handjob, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, anal sex, anal fingering, rough sex, multiple orgasms, public/near-public sex, friends nearby, risky sex, choking/hand over mouth
word count: 6.2k
minors dni
──────── ♡ ────────
The Mediterranean in late July is a kind of blue that feels personal, like the sea remembered exactly what color would ruin you and settled there. The yacht rocks gentle beneath you, a cradle rhythm you've been half-drowsing to for the past hour, your skin tacky with dried salt and sunscreen, the edge of your bikini top leaving a faint pink line that you'll trace later in the mirror and smile at.
Somewhere behind you, Max is telling a story about a missed flight and a stolen Vespa, his voice rising and falling with the kind of theatrical energy that only makes sense after three beers. Pietra laughs, that bright, unguarded sound she only makes when she's truly relaxed, the one that always pulls a grin out of everyone within earshot. The cooler lid slams. Ice rattles. Someone cracks open another bottle.
You should be listening. You should be laughing with them, chiming in with your own embellishment to Max's increasingly dubious tale. You should, at the very least, be aware of where your drink has gotten to.
But Lando just pulled himself up the ladder at the back of the boat, and every functioning thought you possess has evacuated.
He comes out of the water in stages: first the crown of his head, dark curls plastered flat and gleaming under the sun like wet silk, then the broad shelf of his shoulders breaking the surface, rivulets sheeting off his skin. The saltwater traces his body with a kind of reverence, down the slope of his back, catching in the valley of his spine, following the topography of muscle and bone with an attention you suddenly, irrationally envy. His hands find the stainless steel rail, forearms flexing as he hauls himself up, and there is something in the way his body works against gravity that turns the air in your lungs to something heavier. Thicker.
The swim shorts sit low on his hips. Navy. Soaking wet. Clinging to him in a way that ought to be illegal in international waters.
He turns, reaching back to offer a hand to whoever's still in the water, it's Keegan, you register dimly, because Keegan is always the last one in, and the movement pulls the fabric taut across his ass, the muscle shifting beneath, and you actually forget to breathe. Your lips part. Your thighs press together beneath the towel you've draped over your lap, a gesture so instinctive you don't notice you've done it until you feel the soft friction of your own skin, the faint ache that accompanies it.
The sun is hot. That's your excuse. The sun is hot and you've been sitting here too long and that's why your pulse has relocated to the base of your throat, beating there like a warning. Like a promise.
Lando says something to Keegan that makes him laugh, that crinkles the corners of his eyes, and then he's walking toward the bow, toward you, his bare feet leaving wet prints on the white deck. Water still beads on his chest, catching in the sparse dark hair there, and his abs tighten with each step. His tan is deepening by the hour, you realize. The line of his jaw, the hollow of his throat, the vee of his hips disappearing beneath that clinging navy fabric. He looks like something out of a photograph you weren't supposed to see. Something private. Something that makes your stomach drop the way it does when a plane hits turbulence.
He hasn't even looked at you yet, and you're already ruined.
"You're staring," Pietra says, and her voice is so close to your ear that you flinch, a flush crawling up your neck before you can stop it. She's settled into the seat beside you without you noticing — how long has she been there? — and her smile is the knowing, predatory kind. The kind that precedes relentless teasing.
"I'm people-watching," you manage. "It's a very people-watching kind of day."
"You're Lando-watching. There's a difference." She takes a slow sip of her drink, eyes not leaving your face. "Your pupils are dilated. That's a physiological response to—"
"If you finish that sentence, I'll push you overboard."
Pietra grins like you've just given her a gift. She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.
Because Lando has reached the cooler, and he's bending over to fish out a bottle of water, and the shorts — those goddamn shorts — are doing something that makes your teeth catch your lower lip hard enough to sting. You watch a single drop of seawater trace a path from his shoulder blade down, down, disappearing into the waistband, and you follow it with your eyes like it holds the answer to a question you didn't know you were asking. The muscles in his back shift. His shoulder blades move beneath his skin like something winged and restless.
He straightens. Twists the cap off. Drinks with his head tipped back, throat working, and you can see the line of his neck, the way his Adam's apple moves with each swallow, and it shouldn't be this devastating. He's just drinking water. He's just standing there in wet shorts on a boat with all your friends around him, drinking water like a normal person, and your body is reacting like he's whispering filth in your ear from across a crowded room.
Maybe it's the salt. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the way summer stretches time into something elastic and dangerous, where normal rules don't apply and wanting someone this much feels not just permissible but inevitable.
He catches you looking.
His eyes find yours over the rim of the bottle, and his mouth ticks up at the corner, that almost-smile he does when he knows something you haven't said yet. And it's not fair, it's genuinely not fair, because the smile makes his whole face soften and sharpen at the same time, boyish and wolfish in equal measure, and your stomach does the turbulence thing again, the free-fall thing, the oh-god-I'm-in-trouble thing.
Lando lowers the bottle. Holds your gaze for one beat too long — long enough that it's a message, not a glance. Then he turns back to whatever Max is saying, laughing at the right moment, seamless and social, as if he didn't just set every nerve ending in your body on fire without touching you.
Your thighs press together again under the towel. Harder this time.
Pietra is saying something else, but you can't hear her over the roar of your own blood in your ears. The boat rocks. The sun beats down. The afternoon stretches ahead, golden and endless and full of possibilities you're only beginning to imagine.
You watch the water drip from his hair onto his shoulders. You watch the way his hands move when he talks. You watch the small of his back, the dip just above the waistband of his shorts, the place where your mouth would fit perfectly if you could just get him alone.
And you start counting the minutes until you can.
He lets you count. For a while, that's the whole game — Lando settling into the conversation with Max, laughing at the right beats, his back to you like a man with nowhere to be and no one to impress. You tell yourself to look away, to be normal, to join whatever Pietra is saying about the marina and the yacht that's been anchored out there all morning. You don't. Your eyes keep finding the same two or three places on his body and returning like they've got a homing instinct.
Then he turns.
Not toward you. Toward the cooler again, casual as anything, but his head tips just enough that he catches you mid-stare, and this time the almost-smile doesn't fade. It holds. His eyes go dark and pleased in a way that makes your stomach drop and your thighs clench at the same time, and you realize with a hot, mortified clarity that he's been counting too. That he's known exactly where your gaze has been this whole time, and he's been letting it happen.
He says something to Keegan — something that makes Keegan clap him on the shoulder and wander off toward the bow — and then Lando is moving through the group with a bottle in each hand, doling out water and easy jokes like a man with absolutely no agenda. He reaches Pietra, hands her a bottle, and she takes it with a smile that's a little too knowing. Then he's beside you.
"You're burning," he says, low, and at first you think he means the sun. Then his hand lands on your shoulder — a friendly, public, completely innocent touch — and his thumb drags across the strap of your bikini, once, slow, like he's checking for sunscreen. Except the pad of his thumb brushes the edge of your collarbone, then the hollow of your throat, and the touch is nothing. It's nothing. It's a boyfriend being affectionate in front of his friends, and that's exactly why it undoes you.
"I'm fine," you manage.
"You're pink." His voice stays even, pleasant, the voice of a man discussing the weather. But his thumb has found the strap again, and he's tugging it a fraction of an inch, testing the fabric, and his eyes never leave yours. "Should do something about that before you peel."
You don't trust your voice, so you just look at him. And he knows. He sees the heat in your face and the way your breathing has gone shallow, and something shifts behind his eyes — a quiet, wolfish satisfaction that makes you want to hit him and kiss him in the same breath.
"I'll get you some water," he says, loud enough for the group, and his hand drops from your shoulder. But as it falls, his fingers trail down your arm, and at the last possible moment, his thumb catches the inside of your wrist. He squeezes. One second, a message pressed into your pulse point like a thumbprint on soft wax.
Then he's gone, walking back to the cooler, and your wrist is still tingling where he touched it.
Pietra is watching you. You can feel it without looking. You don't turn to her. You stare at the spot on your wrist where his thumb was, and you press your own fingers there, as if you could hold the feeling in place, as if it weren't already spreading up your arm and down your spine and settling somewhere low and insistent between your thighs.
He doesn't look at you again for a long time. He doesn't have to. He's already won, and you both know it.
The boat rocks. The sun beats down. And you stop counting the minutes, because counting is for people who think they have a choice.
The ladder to the lower cabin is narrow, the rungs slick with the salt spray that's been riding the air all afternoon. Lando goes down first, one hand on the rail, and he doesn't look back at you, because his other hand is reaching up behind him, palm open, waiting. You take it without thinking, the way you've taken it a hundred times, and his fingers close around yours and hold on a beat longer than the ladder requires.
Below deck it's dimmer, cooler, the light going amber through the small round portholes. The engine thrums somewhere under your feet, a low vibration that you can feel through the soles of your bare feet. There's a tiny galley to the left, a bench seat with a folded towel on it, and at the end of the short passage, a door with a brass handle that's warm from the sun on the other side of the hull.
Lando stops in front of it. He doesn't open it yet. He turns, and the passage is so narrow that his chest is nearly against yours, his hips close enough that you can feel the heat coming off his skin through the damp of his shorts.
"Thought you'd never come down," he says, low, and there's that almost-smile, the one that's been doing things to your stomach all afternoon.
"Thought you'd never ask."
He reaches past you, his arm brushing your shoulder, the smell of salt and sunscreen and warm skin filling your head, and turns the handle. The door swings open into a space barely bigger than a closet. A toilet, a tiny sink, a mirror that's fogged at the edges from the heat. The ceiling is low enough that Lando has to duck his head to step through, and the sight of it, him folding himself into that cramped little room, all broad shoulders and wet curls, does something sharp and sweet to your chest.
He pulls you in after him. The door clicks shut behind you, and the lock slides home with a sound that's louder than it should be in the quiet.
Then his hands are on your face.
He cups your jaw, tilts your head up, and kisses you like he's been holding it in all day. It's not the quick peck he gave you on the deck before jumping in the water. It's slow and deep and hungry, his mouth moving over yours like he's relearning the shape of it, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees go soft. One hand slides back into your hair, fisting the damp strands, tilting your head further, and he kisses you deeper, harder, until you're pressed back against the door and the only thing holding you up is the warmth of his body against yours.
You make a sound against his mouth and he swallows it, kissing you through it, his other hand finding your hip and pulling you flush against him.
The friction is immediate and electric. His shorts are still damp, clinging to him, and through the thin fabric you can feel him hard and heavy against your stomach, the shape of him unmistakable. You gasp into his mouth and roll your hips without meaning to, seeking more of that pressure, and he groans, low in his throat, his hand tightening on your hip.
"That's it," he murmurs against your lips. "That's it, baby."
He kisses you again, and again, and each one is longer than the last, his mouth never quite leaving yours, his tongue sliding wet and warm, his breath hot on your skin. His hands move, one still in your hair, the other sliding down your back, over the curve of your ass, gripping and pulling you harder against him. You can feel every inch of him through the damp fabric, the ridge of him pressing into you, and the thought of him, right there, so close, makes your thighs clench.
You grind against him, slow and deliberate, and his groan is muffled against your mouth. His hips answer, rolling against yours, finding a rhythm that's torturous and perfect, the friction building a heat low in your belly that spreads through you like the sun through the porthole.
His mouth leaves yours and drags down your jaw, your throat, his lips hot and open against your skin. He kisses the hollow of your collarbone, the spot where your pulse is hammering, and you tip your head back against the door and let him. His teeth graze your skin there, a soft bite that makes you shiver, and then his mouth is lower, trailing down your chest, over the swell of your breast above the edge of your bikini top.
You're still moving against him, your hips finding that rhythm again, and he groans against your skin, his hands coming up to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your top. His thumbs find your nipples through the damp material, and he rubs them in slow circles until they're tight and aching, until you're arching into his hands and making sounds you can't seem to stop.
"Lando," you breathe, and your voice comes out wrecked.
He looks up at you, eyes dark, mouth wet, curls falling across his forehead and the look on his face undoes you completely. He's looking at you like you're the only thing on the water worth seeing.
Then he drops to his knees.
The passage is too small for it, the floor too close, but he folds himself down anyway, his hands on your hips, his mouth finding your stomach through the damp of your skin. He kisses the soft skin just above your bikini line, open-mouthed and slow, and you feel the heat of his breath through the fabric. His hands slide down your thighs, pushing them apart, and he presses his mouth to the inside of one, kissing his way up, closer and closer to where you're aching for him.
"Let me taste you," he says, his voice rough, his eyes dark as he looks up at you from between your thighs. "Please. I've been thinking about it all day."
Your hand finds his hair, fingers threading through the damp curls, and you tug gently, pulling his face closer.
"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Lando."
And he smiles and leans in, his mouth finding you through the thin fabric of your bottoms, and you gasp and grip the door behind you as the first hot drag of his tongue sends a shock of heat through your whole body.
The fabric of your bikini bottoms is still between you, a thin, damp barrier that he doesn't bother removing yet. His tongue presses against it, flat and hot, and even through the material you can feel the exact shape of his mouth, the way his lips part and seal over your clit with a precision that makes your hips buck forward against the door. The sound that escapes you is half gasp, half whimper, and too loud by far because somewhere above deck Max's voice cuts through the engine hum, laughing about something, and Pietra's bright cackle follows right after.
Lando's hand clamps down on your hip, holding you still. He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his mouth glistening, his eyes dark with something that sits right on the edge of amusement and hunger.
"Quiet," he murmurs, and the word is a warm gust of breath against the soaked fabric between your legs. "They're right there, baby."
Before you can answer, before you can even draw breath to form words, his fingers hook into the waistband of your bottoms and tug. The fabric peels away from your skin with a wet sound that seems to echo in the tiny bathroom, and then you're bare, the salt-cool air hitting you where you're already slick and aching. He pulls the bikini down your thighs, your calves, taps your ankle so you'll step out of it, and then he's draping your leg over his shoulder, opening you to him in a way that makes your face flush with heat.
His mouth finds you again. No barrier this time. Nothing between his tongue and your pussy but the mess he's already made of you.
The first direct stroke is devastating, the flat of his tongue dragging from your entrance to your clit in one long, slow, reverent pass that gathers every bit of wetness you've been building since the moment he climbed out of the water. Your head drops back against the door with a thud that's louder than you meant, and your hand flies to your own mouth, pressing hard against your lips to trap the moan that's already climbing up your throat. The taste of salt is still on your fingers, seawater and sunscreen, and you bite down on the heel of your palm as he does it again, slower this time, like he's memorizing the shape of you with his tongue.
He groans against you, and the vibration of it travels straight through your clit and up into your stomach, where it settles into something hot and coiling and desperate. His hands are on your thighs now, thumbs pressing into the soft inner flesh, spreading you wider, and his mouth works you with a patience that feels almost cruel, not rushing, not chasing, just licking into you like he has all the time in the world and no one waiting twenty feet away.
Above deck, Keegan shouts something about the anchor. Footsteps cross the fiberglass and you can hear the exact cadence of Max's laugh, the way it rises and breaks and rolls into silence. They're so close. If Pietra decides to come looking for you, if anyone needs the bathroom, if someone just walks down the ladder and hears.
Lando's tongue circles your clit, slow and deliberate, and your thoughts dissolve into static.
Your hips roll against his mouth without permission, grinding into the heat of him, and he makes a sound that's half laugh and half something much hungrier. His hand slides up from your thigh, fingers finding your entrance, and then one finger presses inside you, just one, curling slow, and the stretch of it combined with the steady rhythm of his tongue on your clit makes your vision go spotty at the edges. You're making sounds now, you know you are, little broken whimpers that leak out between your fingers no matter how hard you press.
He adds a second finger. Crooks them upward. Finds the spot inside you that makes your whole body clench and your free hand slap against the door for balance, palm flat, fingers splayed. The sound your skin makes against the wood is sharp and unmistakable, and somewhere in the back of your mind you know someone could have heard it, but the thought is distant and irrelevant compared to the way he's sucking your clit now, gentle at first, then harder, then pulling back to flick the tip of his tongue against it in a rhythm that's building something immense and unstoppable low in your belly.
"Lando," you breathe, and it comes out ragged, barely a whisper, his name breaking on your lips like a wave against the hull. "Lando, I'm—"
He hums against you in acknowledgment, and the vibration of it is almost enough to send you over right there. His fingers pump deeper, faster, curling with every thrust, and his mouth stays locked on your clit, tongue working you in circles that are somehow both precise and completely devastating. Your thighs are trembling now, the one hooked over his shoulder shaking so hard you can feel the muscle jumping, and your hand is no longer enough to muffle the sounds you're making little gasps and whines that escape around your palm, damp and desperate.
The yatch rocks. Someone's footsteps cross the deck directly above you. A voice — Pietra's voice, close and clear — says something about the cooler, and you can hear the ice shifting as someone digs through it, and they're right there, right above your head, close enough that you swear you can feel the vibration of their movements through the hull.
"Come for me," Lando whispers against your clit, so quiet you feel it more than hear it. "Right now. Let me feel it."
And you do.
The orgasm hits you like the boat hitting a swell sudden and violent and all-consuming. Your back arches off the door, your hand clamps down over your own mouth hard enough to bruise, and the scream that wants to tear out of you gets trapped behind your teeth, swallowed down into a guttural, shaking groan that vibrates in your chest instead of the air. Your hips buck against his face, riding out the waves of it, and he stays with you through every pulse, his mouth soft now, gentle, lapping at your clit while his fingers curl inside you and draw out every last tremor until you're spent and shaking and barely holding yourself upright.
He pulls back slow, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh, and when you finally look down at him his mouth is wet and his eyes are bright with something that looks an awful lot like pride.
"Good girl," he says, just loud enough for you. "Didn't hear a thing up there."
And from above deck, as if on cue, Max's voice drifts down: "Hey, where'd Lando go?"
When he stood, his erection strained against the wet fabric of his shorts. Kneeling on the textured floor, you started slow, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the length of his shaft, tasting the faint, clean salt of his skin. Your tongue traced the prominent vein on the underside, swirling around the head before taking him fully into the warmth of your mouth. You worked him with a deliberate rhythm, one hand wrapped around his base, the other gripping the hard muscle of his thigh for balance as the boat swayed.
You pulled back, your lips glistening, and looked up at him through your lashes. His jaw was clenched, his eyes dark pools of hunger fixed on you. You leaned in again, this time letting the flat of your tongue lavish slow, broad strokes from root to tip before swallowing him down. You relaxed your throat, taking him deeper with each pass until he hit the back, your nose buried in the coarse hair at his pelvis. His fingers tightened in your hair, a ragged groan tearing from his chest as he fought to keep his hips still.
The pace became frantic, your head bobbing, saliva slicking the way. His breath came in sharp gasps. "Gonna come," he warned, his voice a strained whisper. You took him as deep as you could, holding him there as his body stiffened. Hot, salty pulses flooded your throat. You swallowed diligently, milking him with gentle suction until he was spent, then cleaned him with slow, thorough laps of your tongue, savoring every last drop. You finally released him with a soft kiss to his hip, meeting his dazed, satisfied gaze.
Before you could even catch your breath, his hands were on you again. He spun you around, bending you over the small sink, your cheek pressed against the cool acrylic. His palm clamped over your mouth, smothering the startled cry that tried to escape. His other hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging in as he drove into you from behind, a single, brutal thrust that stole the air from your lungs.
The friends' laughter and conversation filtered through the thin door, a mundane soundtrack to the raw, pounding rhythm he set. Each slam of his hips jolted you forward, the edge of the sink biting into your stomach. His hand stayed firm over your mouth, his own breaths hot and ragged against your ear. "Not a sound," he grunted, his voice thick with exertion. You could only moan into his palm, the vibrations swallowed by his skin, your body arching back against his in desperate, silent pleading.
He fucked you with a relentless, punishing pace, the wet slap of skin and the creak of the boat's fittings drowning under the force of it. His release came with a low, guttural sound, his body shuddering against yours as he emptied himself deep inside. He stayed there for a long moment, his weight pinning you, his hand finally sliding from your mouth to wrap around your throat, not squeezing, just holding as you both gasped for air, listening to the oblivious chatter just beyond the door.
He didn't pull out. Still buried deep inside you, his body a solid, sweating weight against your back, his fingers trailed down the curve of your spine. They slipped through the slick mess between your thighs, gathering wetness before circling the tight, forbidden ring of muscle lower down. You tensed, a muffled whimper escaping into the cage of his hand. He pressed the pad of his thumb against the clenching entrance, applying a steady, insistent pressure that made your eyes roll back.
"Relax," he commanded, his voice a dark rumble in your ear. As he began a slow, shallow thrust again, his thumb pushed inward, breaching the tight resistance. The dual invasion was overwhelming, a shocking fullness that tore a raw, ragged scream from your throat, perfectly captured and silenced by his palm. He worked his thumb in deeper, twisting slightly, the filthy, exquisite stretch syncing with the punishing drive of his hips. Your body convulsed around him, a silent, shuddering climax ripped from you as he fucked you through it, his own movements becoming jerky and uncontrolled.
He came with a harsh groan, his release hot inside you, his thumb still lodged firmly in your ass as his body went rigid. For a long minute, the only sounds were your choked, panting breaths against his hand and the cheerful, entirely separate world of your friends discussing where to anchor for lunch. He slowly withdrew both himself and his thumb, the sudden emptiness a shocking void. He turned you, your legs trembling, and kissed you, deep and possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body just had.
You slid down his body, your mouth finding him again before he was even fully soft. You took him deep, your tongue working with a desperate hunger. "Need more," you gasped, pulling off for a second, your lips swollen and wet. "Please, Lando, fuck me again." A dark, approving laugh rumbled in his chest. He hauled you up by your arms, turning you to face the small mirror above the sink. He bent you forward, your hands splayed on the counter, your reflected eyes meeting his in the glass.
"Look at you," he growled, slamming back into your soaked cunt with one brutal thrust that made you cry out. He set a punishing pace, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. "Such a greedy little thing." His eyes were locked on yours in the mirror, watching every flicker of pleasure and pain on your face. You reached back with one trembling hand, fingers slick from your own juices. You pressed two fingers against your own asshole, circling the tight ring before pushing them slowly inside yourself, your breath hitching. You held his gaze in the reflection, a filthy, inviting smile spreading across your lips as you worked your fingers in deeper.
"Jesus Christ," he snarled, his rhythm faltering for a second. "You want that? You want me there?" You nodded, your fingers pumping in and out in a lewd mimicry. "Tell me," he demanded, his thrusts becoming even harder, jarring your body with each one. "Say it." "Fuck my ass," you moaned, the words slutty and clear. "Please, I need it." With a guttural sound of pure lust, he pulled out of your pussy, his cock gleaming. He spat into his palm, slicking himself roughly before pressing the thick head against your other entrance. He pushed in with a slow, inexorable force, stretching you impossibly wide, his groan mingling with your sharp cry as he filled you completely.
"You're crazy for this," he panted, his voice raw against the shell of your ear as he began to move. "My perfect, filthy slut." Each word was punctuated by a shallow, testing thrust that stole your breath. The stretch was searing, a white-hot ache that blurred your vision in the mirror. Tears welled and spilled over, tracing hot paths down your cheeks as you bit down on your own knuckle, the metallic taste of blood a sharp counterpoint to the salt of your tears.
His hips drew back and then pistoned forward, setting a brutal, driving rhythm. The sound was obscene, a wet slap of flesh meeting flesh, each impact driving a choked sob from your throat that you strangled into a whimper. "Take it," he commanded, his hands like vices on your hips, holding you open and impaled. "You wanted it, now fucking take it all." His pace became frantic, unhinged, his control shattering. The boat rocked violently with his force, your body bowed and trembling under his, a vessel for his frantic need. You could feel every ridge, every pulse of him as he neared his peak, the pressure building to an unbearable point inside you.
"I'm gonna fill this tight little ass," he groaned, the words slurred with pleasure. His movements became shorter, harder, a final, desperate ramming. His rhythm was a brutal, unyielding metronome, each deep plunge stretching your to a breathtaking limit that hovered on the razor’s edge between agony and ecstasy. Tears blurred your reflection in the mirror, but your eyes remained locked on his, wide and glazed with a submission that drove him wilder. “Look at you,” he growled, his voice shredded with the effort of his restraint. “Crying and taking it like you were made for it. My personal little fucktoy.” He leaned over you, his chest plastered to your sweat-slicked back, his mouth at your ear. “You feel that? How deep I am? You’re gonna come just from this. Just from my cock in your ass. I own this.” His words were a filthy incantation, and your body believed them. A different kind of tension began coiling deep in your belly, a hot, electric wire of pleasure that wound tighter with every savage thrust.
The change in you was instantaneous and profound. You choked sobs shifted in pitch, becoming high, desperate whines that vibrated against the hand you had clamped over her own mouth. Your inner muscles, which had been clenched in a tight ring of resistance around his invading length, began to flutter and spasm in a frantic, involuntary rhythm. “That’s it,” he snarled, his own control fraying at the edges. He could feel your climax building around him, the convulsive grip of her body milking him toward his own ruin. “Come for me. Come on my cock while I wreck this perfect ass.” He fucked you with renewed, frantic intensity, his hips a blur of motion, the sound of their joining a loud, wet slap that echoed in the tiny room. Your orgasm hit her like a physical blow, a silent, seismic scream shaking your frame. Your vision whited out, your legs buckled, and you would have collapsed if not for his iron grip on your hips. The intense, rhythmic clenching of you around him was the final trigger. With a raw, guttural roar that was barely muffled by the boat’s engine, he slammed home one last time and held, his body bowing over yours as he emptied himself in hot, pulsing jets deep inside you.
The sensation of his release, so intimate and claiming, sparked a second, smaller wave of aftershocks through your spent body. Lando stayed buried within you for a long moment, both of them panting, dripping, utterly ruined. Slowly, he pulled out. The sudden absence was a shock, a cool rush of air against oversensitized flesh. Immediately, a trickle of his spend began to escape, tracing a slow, warm path down the inside of your thigh. He watched it for a second, his eyes dark and possessive. Then, without a word, he dipped two fingers into the pooling evidence at your entrance. He pushed them back inside you, working his cum deeper with a slow, deliberate circular motion. “No,” he murmured, his voice low and final. “This belongs inside. You keep it. Every drop.” He sealed his decree with a rough, open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder, his fingers still working gently, insistently, until nothing remained to leak out.
The silence in the head was heavy, broken only by their ragged breathing and the cheerful din from the deck. Lando straightened, his movements slow and satisfied. He ran a hand through his damp hair, then reached for a small towel, wiping himself down with a casual efficiency that belied what had just transpired. He handed it to you without looking, his eyes already assessing their reflection. You took it with trembling fingers, cleaning up as best you could, the rough fabric a stark contrast to the sensitive, well-used flesh between your legs. Every movement caused a slow, internal shift, a visceral reminder of his possession sealed deep within you.
He pulled his board shorts back on, the damp fabric clinging. He turned to you, his expression shifting seamlessly from predatory intensity to one of mild concern. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the last trace of your tears. "You okay?" he asked, his voice now soft, almost gentle. You could only nod, your body humming with exhaustion and the secret, liquid heat he had ordered your to keep. He opened the door, the bright sunlight and sound of laughter flooding in, a jarring return to reality.
"There you are!" called Max from the sun-drenched deck. "We were about to send a search party."
Lando stepped out first, shielding his eyes with a relaxed grin. "Sorry, mate. Just helping her out," he said, his tone light and easy. He half-turned, offering you a hand to step out. "She's not feeling too well. A bit seasick, I think." The lie was smooth, effortless. You took his hand, your legs feeling unsteady. As you emerged into the blinding light, the warmth of the sun on your skin was nothing compared to the deeper, secret warmth pooling inside you. You managed a weak, blurry smile for your friends, the feel of him still leaking slightly, a filthy, thrilling truth beneath her clean bikini.
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♡ feedback & reblogs mean the world.
written by minmin.
☆ warnings: reserve driver!reader x landoscar being kinda gay, drinking game, p in v, praise kink, soft degradation, exhibitionism/voyeurism, slight objectification, dom!lando, switchy!osc ⋆ inspo: (x)(x)(x)(x)
⋆ ‧ ⋅ ☾ ‧ ⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ‧ ⋅
the announcement played over the airport speakers.
eight hours. flight delayed. an entire night.
everyone grumbled, disappointment exhaled in soft breaths.
lando was the exception.
he was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. grinning like this delay was a gift rather than a punishment.
beside him, oscar was quieter. phone in hand, with that calm expression covering any tension coiling underneath. you noticed it. a flicker, a slight tightening of his jaw as he watched lando walk around the airport lobby with that stupid grin.
as the reserve driver, you were usually the one balancing their energies. dragging behind them yet keeping the dynamics solid, intact. but something that has been simmering for the past few months. something heavy. tense.
“could be worse.” lando chirped, glancing at the arrivals board. “could be stuck doing boring debriefs.”
you snort, leaning back against the coolness of the wall. it soothes the tightness of your skin. you keep up your banter. your usual bitey remarks towards lando.
“yea. could be stuck with just you. thank god for osc.”
lando’s grin widened, sharp and knowing. he stepped into your personal space, with no regard just as usual. the scent of his cologne sneaks up on you.
“you’d miss me. both of you actually. you love my company. how i make everything interesting."
oscar chuckles.
“i absolutely would not.” you lie.
your eyes lingered on the way his curls were messy from the headset he was wearing hours ago. he caught up on that, and smirked.
what a little shit.
oscar looked up from his phone. a faint, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. he knew the rhythm of your ongoing teasing with lando. the constant banter. the way lando never stopped pushing. the way you always pushed back.
oscar actually likes it. grew fond of it.
lando slung an arm over your shoulders. his thumb grazed your shoulder through your team hoodie.
“come to my room, both of you.” he said, casual.
the tone was light. no implication of a heavier suggestion.
“we’ll order food. kill time. chill or whatever.”
you agreed without a second thought. no thought, just instinct. always safe around the boys. always comfortable.
oscar hesitated for a heartbeat. brief awareness crossed his face before nodding. he knew. knew exactly what lando was doing. oscar did not say anything, just followed his teammates.
──── ☆☆☆
lando's room became a mess again.
his hoodie tossed over a chair. suitcases half open. a gaming controller abandoned on the coffee table. he headed to the mini fridge, grabbing the hotel's mini bottles of alcohol.
“we’re not sleeping. so… truth or drink.”
lando's voice is rough. tired but cheeky. he grabbed the bottles and started mixing the alcohol with the cans of monster he had in his suitcase.
you giggled, leaning against the headboard on the bed. “oh god. are we sixteen?”
oscar echoed your movements. leaned his back against the wall near the window, his arms folded across his chest.
“lando apparently is.” oscar murmured.
lando pointed at him. “you’re playing, osc. no shitty excuses. it's just us.”
he poured three glasses, sliding one to you and one to oscar. lando dropped onto the edge of the bed. his eyes are fixed on you.
“alright, i'll start.” lando announced. "most inappropriate place you’ve ever gotten turned on?”
you eyes widen. “that’s not how you start! you’re supposed to ask about embarrassing childhood stories and shit first. ease us into it, lan.”
“rules are boring. i'm not.” lando countered. he leaned forward towards you. “answer. or drink.”
you looked at your glass, then at lando's face. he's waiting. somehow patient.
“it was a race weekend. in the garage. the vibration of the cars starting up… i don't know. it just did things.”
lando’s eyebrows shot up. oscar shifted subtly against the wall.
“the adrenaline, the noise… it’s all a lot.” you added, feeling the heat creep up your neck.
“so what did you do about it?” lando asked.
“i took care of it later.”
lando chuckled a low, satisfied sound. almost proud of you.
"see? you act all unimpressed by me, but you’re just as fucking filthy.” he took a sip and turned his gaze to oscar. “your turn, mate. same question.”
oscar didn't hesitate. he picked up his glass and drained the entire thing in one go. the burn hit his throat. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. his gaze never broke from yours.
“pussy.” lando teased, though his grin was fond. “alright, piastri. ask a question.”
oscar set the glass down and moved to the bed where he can join both of you. his voice was steady.
“okay. have you ever thought about one of us while you were taking care of things?”
oh. the room went dead fucking silent.
the playful energy vanished. replaced by this sudden heavy heat. lando’s jaw dropped slightly, his gaze darting between you and oscar. this wasn't the polite oscar piastri that everyone saw. this was the man who hunted down lap times with ruthless efficiency. quiet but focused, determined.
you didn't drink. you met oscar’s gaze and didn't back down.
“this morning. before we left for the track.”
lando let out a breathy laugh.
his cock twitched. “which one of us?”
“both of you.”
lando’s hand went to his glass, but he didn't drink. he was still staring at you, his eyes roaming over your body. oscar clears his throat, and refills his own glass before taking another big sip. lando joins him.
"dirty girl. you spend every second proving you can handle the pressure. always so disciplined. so good. do you always want that control, or do you want someone to handle you? maybe be a bit of a prick about it, too?" lando is pushing your buttons.
you didn't reach for the glass.
“i want to be handled. i want someone to take control and not be polite about it. want it rough. but be told i’m doing a good job while it’s happening.” you're whispering. raw, rambling. the alcohol is starting to get the better of you.
lando made a sound. half-groan, half sob. “praise kink. oh my god. you’re an overachiever even in your pretty little head.”
oscar’s pupils dilated. he didn't move, but the air around him felt heavy.
“my turn again.” lando said.
"what, why?" osc questions.
"my game, my rules. osc… you’ve been drinking a lot to avoid answering. what’s the filthiest thing you’ve imagined doing to our little reserve driver? maybe while seeing her sitting in the sim all focused?”
your thighs clenched. your cheeks flushed. lando cannot be fucking serious right now.
oscar reached for his glass. his pupils look heavy. he was going to drink, to hide again. but lando leaned forward and caught his wrist. oscar looked at you, then at lando.
"stop hiding, osc. just say it." lando whispered.
“… i imagined her bent over the console. just taking her from behind, and you're watching us. maybe touching her a bit, too.”
oscar's words were raw. lando's breathing is shallow now. he looked at oscar, and for a moment, you see it. that total lack of jealousy. that raw, shared hunger.
oscar wanted this. and lando wanted this too.
“you two look like you're about to kill each other. or fuck." you joke lightly, your own heart hammering against your ribs.
lando looked at you. and moved towards oscar. not patient, just desperate. he grabbed oscar by the back of the neck. strong hands pulling oscar close to him on the bed. they kiss.
almost a collision.
teeth and soft whines. you watched, as lando's tongue pushed into oscar's mouth. that frantic, messy hunger. oscar’s hands came up to grip lando’s waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.
they agreed to share you, but right now, you're sharing them. what a pretty fucking sight. the two men you spent months crushing on, just devouring each other. not soft, but needy.
you crawled next to them. you reach out, placing one hand on lando's lower back and another on oscar's shoulder. both drivers broke apart, their foreheads still pressed against each other. faces flushed, pupils blown. lips wet.
“please don’t stop.” you're shameless.
“enough watching.” lando mumbles.
lando grabbed you and pulled you into the middle of them.
you're surrounded by their heat, by their scent. cologne and sweat. lando's mouth was all over yours, tasting of oscar and something sweet. oscar’s hands moved under your hoodie, his palms hot against your bare skin.
“clothes off, now.” lando muttered against you.
everything felt hurried. desperate. lando's movements were a needy blur, his hands everywhere all over you. he was the one who stripped you, but somehow kept glancing at oscar. just making sure osc was seeing everything. enjoying everything. lando's mouth found your neck, your tits. big strong hands never still. so vocal, suddenly whispering every filthy thought he has ever had about you. fingers moving downwards, tracing your core. his fingers find your wetness and start working you with a speed that had you arching your back.
“i’ve seen you look at her, osc. you know you want her, come on mate."
oscar was different. steady but strong. his large hands pin you down to the pillow just for a brief moment, forcing you to look at him. he kisses you deeply, his tongue contrasting lando's motions over your clit.
“you're so fucking pretty.” oscar groaned into your ear, his voice breaking.
“he thinks you’re fragile. little osc thinks he has to be careful with you.”
lando reached down, grabbing a condom from his backpack. always prepared, what a fucking slut. he handed it to oscar who understands it as a nudge to roll it over lando's cock.
but lando pulls back, shaking his head.
“you’re not putting it on me. i wanna watch. just like you said.”
oscar looked confused, yet his cock is leaking. his breathing becomes short and sharp. “lando-”
“put it on, oscar. and get on your back.” lando commanded.
osc hesitates.
he then nods and rolls the condom on his needy cock with trembling fingers. his gaze never leaves yours. he positions himself between your legs. but before he could push in, lando moved.
lando grabs your waist, guiding you to straddle oscar. he lifts you to position you over oscar’s aching cock. all with that stupid grin on his face. you felt oscar’s cock press against your entrance. thick and demanding, that delicious blunt pressure pushing against your cunt. oscar let out a choked sound, his hands reaching up to grip your waist. his knuckles are fucking white.
“slow, osc.” lando teased, his voice low and vibrating against your back. “she likes the build up.”
lando placed his hands over yours on oscar’s shoulders. his chest pressed firmly against your back. he leaned in, biting softly at the shell of your ear.
“go on then. take him. show him what you told us. how you want to be handled.”
you lowered yourself down further on oscar's cock. that a slow, agonising shift where his cock is splitting you open slowly in the best fucking way. oscar’s eyes flew shut. his hands gripped your thighs tighter.
“good girl. take him all the way. that’s it. fuck- look at how well she takes you, osc. look at her.” lando praised.
a guttural groan escapes oscar's throat as your cunt takes all of him. he's big, filling every inch of you. you feel his cockhead push against your walls. against your tight cunt.
“jesus fucking christ.” oscar rasped, his head falling back against the pillows.
lando didn't let you go. he kept his hands on your hips and began to move you. his hands firm and possessive over you.
he started bouncing you on oscar's cock.
at first, it was tentative. a steady pace that allowed you to feel every vein of oscar's cock. but lando increased the speed, his movements becoming more aggressive. more direct. he slammed your hips down against oscar. over and over again, that brutal force. he's giving you exactly what you need. what you and oscar both need.
“see? told you. she wants it harder. don't you, pretty girl?”
this man needs to learn how to shut the fuck up.
you cry out at the impact. your fingers digging into oscar’s shoulders. his cockhead repeatedly hitting your neediest spot.
"ask for it. tell us what you want." lando teases.
“harder, please. fuck-”
“that's it, good girl." lando glances over to oscar. "i told you. she wants to be used. she wants to be told she’s a good little driver while we wreck her.”
oscar's hunger starts to take over. he wanted to take control himself. he gripped your hips, thumbs digging into your skin. began to thrust upward to meet every downward stroke lando forced you into. every bounce, every impact turning you into a melting mess.
“you’re doing so well. so fucking good for me. for us.” oscar gasped.
oscar's eyes are all blown out, his composure completely shattering. his brain only registers your cunt. the way it squeezes his cock, the way it coats him with your slick. oscar's praise makes your cunt clench tighter around his cock.
you're caught in the middle of them and their strength. your two teammates.
you arch your back. your head falls onto lando’s shoulder as he continued to bounce your pretty body over oscar's cock. the friction is overwhelming. oscar’s thick cock stretching you, lando's warmth pressing against your back. lando reached around, his fingers finding your clit. he rubs quick little circles, giving you that sweet and sharp pleasure. lando watches oscar, the way his eyes roll back as you squeeze onto his cock each time lando touches you just right.
“is she tight, osc? tell her how tight she is.” lando asked, voice thick with pure lust.
“so fucking tight. lando…i'm so close-” oscar groaned, his pace becoming frantic.
"don’t you dare stop. look at her, she needs more. look what we're doing to her.”
lando moves one hand from your hip to oscar’s chest. his large fingers spread over oscar’s racing heart. almost caressing him.
you're a mess of sweat and broken gasps. your head is lolling back against lando’s shoulder, unable to keep yourself up. the room is filled with the sound of skin slapping. the obscene sound of three people being pushed to their absolute limit.
“please lan, harder.” oscar is begging.
lando obeyed. he bounces you over oscar's cock, hands guiding your hips back and forth onto his cock. your own orgasm creeps up on you fast. your walls clamp down on oscar. lando bruises your hips as he holds you there, helping oscar shatter under you. oscar thrusts up harshly into you one last time, cumming with a desperate and pretty whine. filling the condom. but lando didn't stop. he kept moving your body until both of your climaxes tore through you, turning you into two little pretty messes.
your breating is ragged. broken.
but lando wasn't done. it's his turn now.
he pulled you off of oscar, who reacts with a pretty whimper at the loss of contact. lando is hard. absolutely throbbing.
he doesn't ask. he quickly rolls another condom on himself and pushes his cock into your cunt. you feel so fucking good. all soft and wet from oscar fucking you so well just a few moments ago.
“fuck. so warm. so tight.” lando choked out, his eyes locking on oscar’s.
he pulls his cock out, letting you feel that sweet mean drag against your cunt as he pushes it all the way back in again. and again. and again.
it feels fucking insane.
oscar crawled up the bed with the little energy he had left. his face all flushed, cheeks pink and hair all messy. he leaned over your shoulder, leaving soft kisses on your neck until his mouth finds lando’s.
their rivalry somehow turned into something sweet. something domestic yet filthy.
lando hammered into you, his cock dragging in and out of your needy cunt. you're taking it so well. such a good girl for both of them. their best fucking girl. his hands push your hair out of your face, and you can see your boys sharing their kiss. all while lando keeps thrusting into you. fucking you and filling you.
it's all too much.
the taste of oscar still on your lips, the feeling of lando's cock stretching your cunt after taking such good care of oscar. the weight of both of your boys pressing into the mattress.
and lando can feel it all too. he's so close. a few more thrusts into your sweet cunt and he cums. a sharp little whine, his body finally giving out as he lays on top of you. oscar also lays down near you both, one hand brushing against your cheek and the other against lando's body.
the silence was heavy. not with regret or shame, but the terrifying weight of something uncertain. something genuine.
lando was the first to move, collapsing back onto the pillows and pulling both of you near him. he curled up into your side, his head on your chest. he looked small, vulnerable. oscar's arm draped over your waist, his leg also tangled with yours. he pulled the covers over you and lando.
“best delay ever.” lando panted, his voice wrecked.
oscar let out a soft, genuine laugh. he kissed the top of your head, his breath finally evening out. “i think we might have ruined the professional dynamic of the team.”
“i’ve wanted this for a long time, you know. just didn't know how to ask properly.” lando whispered into the crook of your neck.
“i don't think we need to ask anymore.” oscar reassures lando. he reaches out and gives him a little pat on his curly head.
you smile. “it’s gonna be complicated, though. the team. the media. everything.”
lando propped himself up on one elbow, looking at both of you with a wide grin. messy and flushed, but so fucking happy.
“sooo, who’s hungry? i think we should order the most expensive thing for the room service. mclaren is paying, obviously.”
oscar groaned, but there was a smile on his face. “an absolute menace.”
“yeah, our menace.” you agreed.
──── ☆☆☆
might make this into a series??? not sure! lmk what u think <3
rien n'a autant d'importance
running into lando norris— your ex— at a party gives you the perfect opportunity to remind him that there really is only one girl for him.
note: hi nonnie! thank u so much for this request omfg i was literally soaked just imagining it. i hope its ok that i did change the slightest bit cause (due to personal experience— ew i know, so lameee ugh!) i don’t 100% love cheating. i hope u enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it<3
original request:
thinking about ex boyfriend! Lando finds reader in a party, he’s already with another girl and she knows that, so they both ended up in the bathroom and she gives him a blowjob, being all cocky because only she knows how to do it well, and she’s trying to act all innocent and telling him it’s only to teach his other girl so she makes him film her so the other girl can ‘learn’
“does she make you feel this good?”
the party is raging on happily beyond the bathroom door, but neither you or lando take particularly great notice of the bass thumping through your bones or the constant stream of chatter in the other room, getting louder and louder as people keep drinking.
you and fewtrell were still friends; a silly breakup didn’t change that. so, just like he’d done with all his other friends, he’d invited you to his party. it wasn’t for some big event or anything; "just because,” he’d told you with a smile.
his little apartment was crammed full of people, some of whom you didn’t recognise, more of whom you did. everyone had greeted you excitedly; you hadn’t really turned up to these things for a couple of months. you’d used work or school as excuses, but everyone knew the real reason.
your friend had been the one to show you the post; a fan account sharing a photo they’d found of lando with some girl on a date, sat in the shade at a cafe table.
you’d smiled brightly and told her you were “so over him,” as he clearly was you. she’d matched your smile and given you a big hug and told you how proud she was of you and that, “i know it hasn’t been easy, but he’s such a scumbag anyway. you’re so much better without him.”
you’d raised your coffee mug and cheersed her, laughing at getting away from him unscathed, but on the inside, you were absolutely fuming.
“i’m sorry, angel. i’m just getting too busy; i have so many things on, and i feel so exhausted all the time. i want you to have everything you deserve, but i just don’t have the time anymore to make that happen,” and then here he was, not even two months later, sharing this random girl’s fucking drink; a bright lipstick stain on the rim of the cup right under where his mouth was placed.
“don’t look fucking busy to me,” you’d hissed as you scrolled through the fanpage’s feed later that day.
post after post was dedicated to sightings of him. press events, races, selfies with fans, merch photoshoots, and that stupid date. you'd stalked through the account until you recognised the pictures as being screenshotted from your own stories, and told yourself that was that, and there was nothing else to be done.
you hadn’t expected lando to be here tonight. from the way he’d paled when you made eye contact, then darted off, hoping you wouldn’t follow him, he hadn’t either.
of course, because you didn't live to appease him, you’d trailed behind him from room to room, keeping a healthy distance until he was alone. then you’d cornered him and dragged him into the closest room that would provide you both privacy— the guest bathroom.
one thing had led to the next, and you find yourself in the position you’re in now; on your knees in front of him, one hand stroking along his weeping cock, the other pressed against his thigh for support.
“i was trying to move on…” lando manages, throwing his head back with a groan as you press a kiss to his tip, right on the slit. you lick your bottom lip as you pull away and taste salt.
“is that why you went on that date? to move on?”
your hand keeps stroking him as you talk, your eyes trained on his face as he struggles to articulate himself.
“use your words, lan.”
a few tears fall from his eyes as he whines for you to keep going.
“i’m sorry!” bursts from his lips, “oli set it up; he said i needed to stop moping! i didn’t know there would be paps; i think she called them herself, i-“
he cuts himself off with a choke at a particularly sharp flick of your wrist.
“she’s pretty, lan.”
he doesn’t reply, eyes wide and brows scrunched together as he tries to figure out where you’re going with this. you don’t stop fisting his cock, sticky precome dripping down your hand.
“did you fuck her?”
he shakes his head desperately, tears rolling down his cheeks at the stimulation you're giving him.
“lando, words.”
“i didn’t!”
really? you stop all of a sudden, contemplating the new information he’s just revealed to you.
“…have you fucked anyone else since me?”
he sniffles at the question and shifts on his feet.
“lando.”
god, it’s getting exhausting having to constantly remind him of his manners.
“yes.”
his reply is so quiet that if you hadn’t been listening with pricked ears, you might’ve mistaken it for just a breath passing his lips.
“was that a yes?”
to be fair, you have as well. and you’re not going to punish him for taking advantage of being single, but he doesn’t have to know that.
“did you enjoy it?”
he frowns, then shakes his head gloomily. god, this is getting more interesting by the second.
“and why not, lan?”
lando hesitates, biting down on his tongue as he mentally debates himself on whether to tell you or not. the part of him that still wants to be a good boy for you wins out.
“no one else’s been able to make me come; there’s something wrong… i-i don’t know.”
he averts his gaze, almost shamefully, missing the smile that creeps along your mouth.
“oh, you poor thing, lan. that must be really hard, huh?”
he sniffles again, pitifully.
feeling sorry for him, your hand resumes stroking up and down, and you take pleasure in watching the emotion on his face contort from shame to satisfaction. he opens his mouth to reply to your last question when the doorknob rattles, followed by a series of hard knocks.
“hello?! i need to take a shit!”
lando’s eyes widen even more at the sound of one of his friends’ voices on the other side.
your hand doesn’t stop moving up and down; lando’s flies up to his mouth to muffle himself, eyebrows knitting together at the prospect of being caught. you reach up and push it away, probably more forcefully than you needed to.
“don’t even think about it,” you hiss, before licking a wet stripe up the underside of him, balls to tip. his mouth drops open at the feeling of your warm tongue, then you’re taking his cock in your mouth and sucking hard.
you can hear his nails scratching at the wood of the door as he scrambles for purchase; something, anything to ground himself as your head bobs up and down on his cock.
the doorknob rattles once more, then falls silent. you pull off with a ‘pop’ and smile up at him.
“good boy, lan. so good.”
his eyes are still shut tight, but a small, proud smile appears on his face at the praise. you reward him by returning to his cock, trying to suppress your gag reflex each time he hits the back of your throat.
he’s assumed he’s allowed to be loud now, breathy moans leaving his perfect lips as he throws his head back, overwhelmed by pleasure.
an idea pops into your head and your mouth is moving before you can contain it, pulling off him to rest your cheek against his flushed tip.
“why don’t you film this, honey?”
lando’s eyes fly open, taken aback by your suggestion.
“yeah,” you’re rolling the idea around in the back of your mind.
you decide you like it and you want to keep going, “get your phone out, lando; let’s film this for the next girl you go out with. show her how to make you come like i do, yeah?”
he’s shaking like a leaf, poor thing, but you don’t let up. one hand comes up to stroke just the base of his cock, knuckles brushing against your cheek as you do so.
“i mean, you’re moving on from me. if you fuck her, you should at least come in her, right, honey? so let’s help her learn. give her a lesson on how to treat you properly, lan.”
you’re pretty convinced your words are going in one ear and going out the other. he seems more focussed on not busting prematurely to properly take in what you’re saying.
you’ve had enough of his disobedience.
“lando, do you want to come?”
it’s not so much a question as it is a threat, and lando recognises it, eyes flying open as your words finally get through the thick fog of pleasure.
he nods desperately, tears pricking at his eyes again. what a crybaby.
“yes— fuck, yes, please; don’t just leave me here!”
it’s not illogical for him to be so worried; you can recall many a party in the past, just like this one, where you’d left him hard and leaking on a whim.
you pull your hand away now and he chases after it with his hips before whining, defeated.
“get your fucking phone out, lando.”
he fumbles around in his pants pocket for his phone and passes it to you obediently. you reward him with another kiss to his cock. he shudders at the contact.
staring at his lockscreen, you type in the passcode he’d had during your relationship— your birthday—, not necessarily expecting it to work. the screen slides up and you find yourself on his homescreen.
“i thought you were moving on, honey. what’s this?”
blush coats his cheeks as he glances away from you and the unlocked phone you hold in your hand.
“i haven’t changed it yet. was gonna… just got used to it.”
how cute.
“you wanna be good for me? you wanna help your girl learn?”
he nods again, though he’s slower to agree, like he doesn’t like everything what you’re saying. it’s funny; how he thinks his opinion matters.
you start off jerking him slowly, watching as he draws his lip between his teeth, his hands shaking as he struggles to press record. you hear the little ding sound and the flash shines in your eyes as he finally starts filming, and you feel yourself get wetter than you should at the knowledge that you’re on camera.
you start by mouthing slowly at his head, enjoying how much he struggles to maintain any semblance of composure. he squirms as your tongue passes over his tip, hands flexing as he fights the incessant urge to rush you.
you know the exact moment his patience runs out; he pushes his hips forward, forcing himself past your lips. you glare up at him from the base of his pelvis, mouth split open by his thick cock, but don’t make any move to stop and scold him.
instead, you take it in stride, taking a deep breath through your nose before pulling off almost all the way, then back down again. lando lets out a heavy sigh as your mouth moves around him, warm and hot.
you glance up and notice the phone drifting off-course, filming more of the bathtub than you, so you stop, balls-deep, and frown at him through the camera until he gets the memo. when he points it back at your face, you smile as best you can, wide-eyed and innocent like this is something casual for you, before returning to the task at hand.
he keens at you and thrusts his hips forward, desperate, and you gag as he hits the back of your throat. this earns him a hard swat to the thigh, to which he babbles out a, “sorry, fuck-,” before you take him even deeper.
you take his free hand and hold it against your neck, pushing his palm flat against the bulge that appears as his cock slides down your throat over and over.
“oh fuck- oh my god...”
his cock twitches in your mouth as he feels you take him entirely.
you kind of regret the whole filming thing now; you can’t see his pretty face anymore when you glance up, just a blinding light in your face and a dark lens staring at you.
he’s squirming more and more, and you know he’s close; he’s getting so loud. his moans are becoming more choked as he nears his peak, and he sets the phone down with a slam against the marble countertop; his hands fly down to grip at your hair. you almost think to stop and tell him off, but this is a special occasion, you suppose.
“fuck, please let me come; please, please,” he begs you.
you pull off him just enough to murmur at his tip, “i don’t know, honey. do you deserve it?”
he nods pathetically, pushing his hips forward to get the slightest bit of stimulation from you, ignoring the sensitivity of your lips mouthing at his head.
you decide to be cruel.
a sob escapes him as you lean back on your heels, away from him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“but what about your girl, lando?”
you glance towards his phone, abandoned on the edge of the sink, probably still rolling.
“fuck, she’s not my girl; i don’t care about her. fuck her- fuckin’- please!”
your head tilts to the side, and your eyes drift up, pretending to think about it.
“mm, no. that’s not very fair to her, is it?”
the tears start up again; this time out of frustration. his brain isn’t working nearly hard enough for him to think of what the right thing to say is. instead, when he opens his mouth, what comes out is a pitiful, ragged gasp.
“what are you gonna do to convince me you deserve it, lan? ‘cause… i don’t think you’re doing a very good job of it right now.”
his eyes squeeze shut as he racks his brain for what you want to hear.
“move back in with me. i’ve missed you so bad, angel— fuck!”
you thumb swipes over his leaking slit, smearing precome over his sensitive head. still not good enough. he hisses and whines again.
“please-, i can’t live without you. i need you. i need you, angel!“
his lip is raw from biting down on it, his lashes wet from crying.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i was wrong; i was so wrong to end it! i miss you all the time, i regret it every day; i’m so sorry, please come back, please, please-“
you hum, finally satisfied with his grovelling, and hollow your cheeks as you take all of him in your mouth again. hands in your hair holding you in place, lando’s hips take over as he chases his own pleasure, bucking forward, forcing his cock down your throat. your jaw goes slack and you finally allow him take what he wants from you; just a hole for him to empty his balls in.
“thank you, thank you, thank you-“ he’s babbling as he gets closer, like he always does, “fuck, angel; love you, thank you, love you-”
he finally comes with a broken cry, hot come spurting in your mouth. his hips don’t stop, prolonging his orgasm for as long as possible after months of being unable to. your pussy clenches on nothing as he pulses against your tongue.
you manage to swallow half of his seed, coating your mouth in the bitter taste of him. the other half oozes out of the corners of your mouth, and you jerk your head to the side to avoid getting any on your dress. his cock slides out of your mouth easily, leaving a soreness in the back of your throat when you swallow.
you look up at lando. his legs are shaking and his eyes are trained on you, following your every movement like a dog would it’s master.
“such a good boy, lan. come here, honey.”
at your command, he slides down to the ground to meet you, and when his knees settle against your own, you kiss him finally.
a relieved whine escapes him as he melts into your touch, shoulders sagging and body leaning towards yours. he’s kissing you desperately, trying to communicate months of dissatisfaction with his tongue as he pushes it into your mouth, running along your teeth. his hands grab at the front of your dress, trying to pull you closer, ever closer.
he tilts his head down and away from you, so your lips end up on his cheek. you open your mouth to complain until you feel his tongue dart out and licks up his own come from your chin. you smile against his stubble. maybe he hasn’t lost all his manners after all.
his mouth returns to yours and the taste gets mixed in with your saliva and his. you can’t help but moan as everything familiar sinks in, and you realise lando’s back. he's here, with you. emboldened by your noises, his teeth nip at your lip; not hard enough to draw blood, but not softly either. his arm sneaks around your waist, settling at your hip.
it stays there for not even five seconds.
he trails it slowly down, drawing little patterns on your thigh as he edges towards your cunt, trying to be inconspicuous. you only notice subconsciously his fingers dancing along your panties, light against the wet spot right on the front of them, or your hips canting up, aching for him to touch you like he used to do.
your hands fly up to either side of his face as lando pulls your panties to the side and pushes his index in in one go. his mouth stills against yours once he’s buried up to the knuckle, waiting for you to stop him. when you don’t show any signs of wanting to, he curls his finger up tentatively. a sigh leaves your lips as even just one of his fingers fills you up in the way you’re used to.
taking your sounds as permission to continue, he pushes his tongue back past your lips as he drives his thick finger in and out of your sopping wet pussy. his teeth clack against yours as he swallows down all the noises you’re making.
he pulls out suddenly, and his mouth leaves yours again; this time to take his slick-covered finger in his mouth, tongue swirling around his knuckle as he licks up every trace of you. you pant heavily, taking the opportunity to catch your breath as you watch him with half-lidded eyes, on his knees in front of you. your tongue runs over your swollen bottom lip, feeling every mark left by his teeth, and your pussy clenches, wanting him back in her now.
you reach out for him, and his hand drops from his mouth as you near. you pull him towards you by the chin, tapping at his lips— still wet from a mix of your slick and his saliva— when you're happy with how close he is.
his jaw hangs open on command, and his eyes dart down to your lips expectantly. pleased with his retained obedience, you kiss the tip of his nose gently before prying his mouth open wider, and spitting.
he moans happily as his tongue rolls your saliva around his mouth, before he swallows and shows you.
“mm, such a good boy, aren’t you?”
you don’t mean to say it out loud, but lando hears all the same. his pupils get impossibly darker, and he all but lunges back at you, pushing you against the side of the tub as he connects your mouths together again.
your fingers find his hair and pull, earning a desperate whine from him just as his index and middle fingers push back into you with no resistance. his hand starts pumping in and out and you gasp into his open-mouthed kisses, back arching off the porcelain skirt as he hits your g-spot like he never forgot how to. you can feel his hardening cock against your hip, eager to fuck you again after so many months.
as much as you also want that, you tear yourself away from him as the amount of time you two have spent in this bathroom suddenly occurs to you. any longer and either someone will get max to unlock the door because they really need to piss, or max himself will find you as he’s cleaning up the apartment afterwards.
a string of spit connects your mouths still, until your finger comes up and twists itself around it, breaking as it gets too thin. his fingers slip out of you with a wet squelch and your cunt mourns being full already. you push yourself off the ground, brushing your knees of imaginary dirt. lando remains where he is, crumpled on the ground, chest heaving.
“come on, clean yourself up.”
you grab a towel, neatly folded by the sink, and throw it at him. he takes a moment to get to work, but does as you say, rubbing at his face first, then cleaning the excess amounts of your slick off his hand, and finally drying off his spit-covered cock. you smooth your hair down in the mirror, and pull your dress down, trying to look like you haven’t just hooked up with your ex in your friend’s bathroom.
lando gets up slower than you had, and pulls his trousers back up his hips. another little ding from his phone as he picks it up tells you that, like you had suspected, it had been recording even after lando had tossed it aside.
“you okay?”
lando sniffs one more time to compose himself, and nods, taking your hand in his as you unlock the door and step out.
there’s no one lingering around the bathroom, thank god— they would surely ask what the two of you were doing in there, but as you make your way through to the living room where everyone else is, you don’t miss the shocked looks the two of you get from the other partygoers, each of whom knows about your messy breakup.
“lando! i’ve been looking for…” max’s sentence dies off in his throat as takes notice of who lando’s with.
“max! isn’t this great? you always throw such a good party; thanks for the invite, babe.”
you let go of lando’s hand to wrap your arms around max’s neck. he hugs you back just a second too slow.
“hi love. i, uh… i didn’t know this was a thing again?” he gestures to the two of you when you step back to lando’s side.
lando smiles cockily, an aura of confidence around him, and entwines your hand with his again, the whiny boy in the bathroom completely gone from sight.
“well, we ran into each other earlier and got to talking and, honestly, mate? i didn’t realise how bad i missed my angel.”
he presses a kiss to the side of your head as he says the last part, making you blush at the attention. max eyes the two of you suspiciously, like he knows something, but shrugs and decides to drop it.
“well, as long as you’re both happy, i’m happy.”
you nod eagerly at him, then at lando, who’s doing the same as you. you’re sure you both look goofy as hell, like a couple of bobbleheads.
max looks weirded out. whether it’s from the sudden rebirth of your relationship or the way the two of you are acting, you’re not sure.
you make your escape before things get even more awkward tonight.
“bye, max! nice to see you again; i’m sure lando can fill you in later! love you!” you push lando in some random direction, speaking quickly so max can’t interrupt.
his hand raises in a half-arsed wave, and you think you hear an affectionate, “weirdos,” before you’re out of earshot.
taking charge once you’re both around the corner, lando grabs your hand and clears a path to the kitchen, where he rummages around in max’s cupboards for two glasses and pours you a drink before doing the same for himself.
you take a sip, the first thing you’ve tasted that’s not lando in at least an hour and a half, and sigh happily. he leans against the counters, watching your throat bob as you swallow down the alcohol.
“you know we’re gonna need to have a proper talk,” you posit, glancing at him over the rim of your glass.
he nods, a serious expression on his face very unbefitting him.
“and you should probably delete that video.”
lando pretends to think about it, before his face splits with another cheeky smile.
“mm… nah.”
“lando.”
he pulls you in by the waist and presses another kiss to your cheek. he dwells for a second, breathing in your scent before carrying on.
“it’s really hot. i might keep it for when i’m alone at a race and missing you, angel.”
you roll your eyes before realising how happy you are to be falling back into a familiar dynamic with him. lando seems to come to the same realisation at the same time, smiling softly down at you as his arm comes up to rest on your shoulders.
“will you come over tonight?” he murmurs into your hair.
you make a face at him, “…what?”
lando shrugs at you like it’s obvious, “saves you having to drive tomorrow morning.”
“okay… um, remind me again why i’m coming to your place at all tomorrow?”
“well, we have to talk, right? might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible. plus, we wouldn’t have to do it in a bathroom at mine.”
he waggles his eyebrows as he says the last bit, clearly looking forward to continuing where you’d left off earlier. you respond to his confidence with a pat on the arm, and take another sip of your drink.
“let’s just see how the night turns out, okay?”
it’s not a no, and from the way you catch him grinning into his drink, he knows it just as much as you.
enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹
summary: best friends aren't supposed to fall in love, are they?
reader x lando norris
smau + 3,1k written blurb
genre: fluff, idiots in love/friends to lovers, driver yn.
fc: cindy kimberly
warnings: reader talks about virginity once or twice, mentions of magui corceiro (just a mention, not implying anything good or bad about her), curse words.
author notes -> mention of "goatjo" and "Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the honored one" refers to the anime Jujutsu Kaisen.
liked by scuderiaferrari, lando, sabrinacarpenter and 4,668,555 users
yn 2025 season kicks off in a week and I just wanna clarify something: yes, I trained hard. no, it wasn’t just me sunbathing on my boat with a cocktail in hand 🙄 (although that did happen. frequently.) I’m mentally, physically, and spiritually prepared. speaking of spirtuality, may God grant us the right to dream? because I may or may not have promised my virginity to the forest gods in exchange for a wdc and wcc <3
scuderiaferrari Yn, we need to have a serious discussion regarding appropriate boundaries. Kindly refrain from sharing details of your personal sexual activities on social media platforms.
yn i'm doing a sacrifice for yall and this is how you show gratitude? i could've asked for a wdc only... 🙄
user Never get PR trained 🙏🏻
user Lando already lurking in likes oh god here we go again
yn he wants a piece of this delicious meal mhmhm
lewishamilton Spiritual preparation is underrated. Manifesting greatness for all of us! ❤️ liked by author
yn thank you, my king!
user and when i turn into a forest spirit then what
yn ohhhhhh i'm shy, take me on a date first
user I LOVE YOU QUEEN
user thank god ferrari decided to sign you, my favorite 2024 rookie is now going to shine even brighter.
charles_leclerc16 I pray to god one day I'll have a normal teammate. Welcome to Ferrari, Yn! Forza.
yn hi cutie 😏
yn posted a story "is it hot in here? am i hot? oh? ps.: i didnt drink anything, just took this pic, had dinner and went to my hotel room prepare for quali (for legal reasons I have to clarify)"
replies
lando yes you're hot
yn stoooooppppp i'm shy
lando you're not
yn lemme beat u in quali tmrw and i'll let u have a peek at my undies deal or nah
lando DEAL
yn you're insane 📸
yn sending this to mclaren asap
lando YOU TRICKED ME
🎙️ Pre-Race Interview — Melbourne Grand Prix 2025
Driver: Yn (Scuderia Ferrari)
Position: P3 in Qualifying
Interviewer: F1 Media Team
Interviewer: Yn, welcome to your first race weekend with Ferrari. We didn’t get a chance to speak with you before qualifying yesterday—how are you feeling ahead of your debut?
Yn: Honestly? I’m super anxious. Ferrari’s been my dream since I was a kid, and now I’m here, living it. It’s a whole new vibe, but everyone’s been so sweet and patient with me. I feel really supported. [Laughs]
Interviewer: You’re stepping into Carlos Sainz’s former seat. We know you’re a big fan of his—how has that transition been?
Yn: Yeah, I adore Sainz. At first, it was kinda awkward, like… am I really taking over his seat? He’s insanely talented. But we had a real talk, cleared the air, and he’s been super chill about it.
Interviewer: So, no tension between you two?
Yn [raising an eyebrow]: Why would there be? We don’t make the calls—teams do. It’s not like I stole his seat in a poker game. [Laughs] It’s all been handled respectfully. [Looks directly at the interviewer]
Interviewer: Well, congratulations on P3 in qualifying. What are your expectations for the race?
Yn: Melbourne’s kinda personal for me. Last season, I had a rough time here—couldn’t even finish the race. It felt like a stain, you know? First woman in years to race in F1 and boom, DNF. [Takes a deep breath] But today? I’m manifesting good vibes. Maybe even a podium. Fingers crossed. [Smiles]
Interviewer: McLaren’s upgrades seem to be working—Lando Norris will be starting behind you in P4. Do you feel any pressure?
Yn [grinning as she spots Lando approaching]: Pressure? Nah. I don’t think Lando’s crazy enough to try passing me, right babe? [Locks arms with Lando, who nods with a smirk]
Interviewer [turning to Lando]: What’s McLaren’s take on that?
Yn [cutting in]: McLaren doesn’t need to take anything—I’m his boss, right dear?. [Lando nods dramatically, then mouths “no” to the camera, laughing]
Interviewer: Your friendship is clearly strong. Is there any rivalry between you two?
Yn: Oh, 100%. We tease each other all the time, but when we’re in the car, it’s serious business. We both want to win. [Lando nods in agreement]
[Lando leans in as the interview wraps up.]
Lando [off mic, whispering]: You finished ahead of me… so, do I get to find out the color today?
Yn [laughing]: Only if you behave.
[The camera captures the moment as they walk off together.]
comments section
user Charles watching this like ‘I asked for some peace of mind and Ferrari gave me Yn’ 💀
user From DNF last year to podium contender this year… Yn’s redemption arc is cinematic!!!!! Shine bright, love.
user "do i get to find out the color?" THE COLOR OF WHAT ????
scuderiaferrari We need to get her media trained asap.
user NO DONT DO THAT...
user dont cut out the wings of an angel
user Are they lovers?
user worse
user "only if you behave" gurrrrrllllll
yn posted a story "back to my fav trainer"
replies
oscarpiastri just admit you guys are dating, it's getting old
yn we are not?
oscarpiastri ...
yn stfu kangaroo hugger or wtv
lando now post a pic in those little shorts you were wearing
lando its urgent
yn gonna post somethin even better babes
lando dw a took a pic while you werent looking <3
yn HARRASMENT?
lando i was joking 🙄🙄 im not a sick
lando posted a story "she said 'wanna work out?' and when we left the gym she suddenly decided she really needed pie"
replies
yn you’re totally jealous of this hottie😌
lando jealous? lol never
yn ugh. perv 🙄
carlossainz55 Mate. Just date already.
lando we are just friends tho ?
lando no feelings
carlossainz55 From your side or from hers? Because I can totally picture you having feelings lol.
lando nonsense ?
yn posted a story "i need oscar to leave us alone for a sec"
replies
oscarpiastri ouch? what did i do?
yn you're blocking my view from this fine ass delicious honey
oscarpiastri yall are disgusting, just get a room already
lando PLEASE LOSE PLEASE LOSE PLEASE LOSE PLEASE LOSE PLEASE LOSE
lando you're too good at poker
yn you sure want me to lose?
yn im not wearing anything under my shirt
lando PLEASE LOSE PLEASE LOSE 🕯️
lando lets give osc a parachute and kick him off <3
yn perv.
liked by scuderiaferrari, lando, yn and 1,554,444 users
vogue Sweet. Fearless. Untouchable. Is Yn Too Perfect for F1?
She’s many things: the first woman to race for Ferrari, the first to secure a podium in over a decade, and the only female driver to last more than one season in Formula 1. Her achievements are historic —but they’re only half the story.
Yn’s presence on the grid is magnetic. With a face that could dominate fashion week and a gaze that belongs on billboards, she’s a walking contradiction: beauty that could build an empire, and a passion that chose speed over spotlight. The world wanted a model. She gave them a champion.
📸 Read the full interview now at vogue.com/article/yn-1120
lando when are these pics dropping in hd? i need that info asap fr
yn 🙄 gonna airdrop for you
user THEY SHOULD DATE ALREADY
scuderiaferrari Our girl!
user How is she real?? Like… she drives for Ferrari AND looks like that?? I’m unwell.
user look at me Im yn, Im pretty, everyone loves me ooooh fuck you (affectionaly)
user I read this and immediately started manifesting a Yn x Met Gala moment. Someone call Anna Wintour.
liked by lando, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc16 and 2,665,444 users
yn almost halfway through the season and nor me nor ferrari are leading the championship. i gues the spirits of the forest doesnt really care about my v card
lando i am actually a spirit of the forest 🪴
yn you just wanna mess with me 🙄
lando LOVE PLEASE
yn too much of a playboy reputation
oscarpiastri if i had a coin for everytime you talked about your personal things like that, i'd have a lot of coins. which is crazy.
yn i'm gonna crash on you and lando will lead wdc
lando yeahhhhh
yn would you crash on someone for me ?
lando ofc love
yn i dont feel very much true in your voice tone
yn and that's how you wanna get into my pants ;/
lando I'M SO SORRY. I APOLOGIZE. I'LL NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.
oscarpiastri just get a room
user i'm shook by how many times she had talked about being a virgin...
yn bc being a virgin is ok? i think this is the kind of taboo we should break.
user QUEEN
user yn 💜
scuderiaferrari We give up! Go on queen, talk your thruth! ❤️ liked by author
user actually, whos this in the last slide?
yn its lando
user sooooo dating?
yn god forbid a girl gets tired of sitting in the cold hard chair
lando i was hard too
yn you're on very thin ice.
lando i'm sorry my queen
liked by user, user, user and 400,555 users
f1wags 🚨 SPOTTED IN IBIZA: Lando Norris & Portuguese model Magui Corceiro!
Well, well, well… looks like the paddock’s favorite flirt has found himself a new muse. Lando Norris was seen cozying up with Magui Corceiro in Ibiza this weekend — and yes, there are photos. 😏
Now for the heartbreak: this one’s for all the delusional defenders of “Landoyn” (you know who you are). Apparently, the couple never existed. (Let’s be honest, they always said they were just friends… but you guys were shipping them like it was a Netflix rom-com.)
Still, we can’t help but raise an eyebrow. Remember Hungary? Post-race conference? Yn and Lando casually mentioned they were going somewhere together — and it didn’t sound like a joke. 👀
So what happened? Whatever the reason, it seems the Yn x Lando era might be over before it even began. 😢
Wishing happiness to the new paddock couple — but also lowkey hoping Yn posts something chaotic in 3… 2… 1…
user Wait but didn’t Yn say she wasn’t dating him? You guys might be overthinking too much 🥴
user so we just gonna pretend Hungary (and all their story) didn’t happen?? They were literally flirting on camera 😭
user I KNEW IT. Lando was never serious about Yn.
user and was Yn ever serious about him? ... yall r delulu
user Just look at her face whenever he's around, look at how people talk about them? Don't be dense...
user I feel like osc knows something.
user “They were just friends” yeah and I’m just casually giving heart eyes my “friend” and whispering about our summer break plans together. OKAY.
user Was it casual when they (landoyn) were spotted on his boat last month, having what looked suspiciously like a date? They said it was just a casual meet-up between friends. So tell me… is it still casual now?
user no one's talking about his new girl is cracking me up lmao
user thank god yn fans ain't shitting on her
liked by carlossainz55, iamrebecad, oscarpiastri and 3,665,444 users
yn sorry for disappearing these past few weeks of summer break. crashed out so badly I had to reconnect with nature.
oscarpiastri did you seriously spent all summer break in a farm?
yn as i said... reconnect with nature!
oscarpiastri ... sure
user i missed her so bad i started doing drugs. yn pls never leave again
user i’m gonna start crashing out too if it means i get to look this good after
yn I do not recomend!
scuderiaferrari Wait… Yn media trained?? We used to light candles for this moment to happen.
yn Not fun guys...
user so no one's gonna adress the elephant in the room?
user Which is?
user she disappeared when photos of l*ndo and his gf were posted,..,,.
user Oh
user i would also disappear if i had to deal with ferrari’s strategy team ❤️ liked by author
user yn’s absence = breakup recovery arc? i’m looking at you, Ibiza photos
user was she dating anyone?
user landoyn???
user delulu.
yn posted a close-friends story "when you wanna cry but you don’t wanna cry you just wanna throw up and dye your hair blonde and quit this racing nonsense and give up everything and just wanna crash into the first wall but the FIA doesn’t care and pairs you up for press conference with your crash-out reason ex-best friend who’s now in a happy relationship with a beautiful girl you’re jealous of because she’s everything you ever wanted to be or it just ever happned to me"
replies
oscarpiastri first of all. i said you were into him and you didn't believe
yn WHO'S HIM
yn i could be talking about anyone... like lewis hamilton or wtv
oscarpiastri didn't know you were bestfriends with lewis, that's news to me.
yn stfu
yn im gonna kms <3
oscarpiastri nonsense. you're not
yn he even ohhhhhh god i love that man like nobody can
oscarpiastri mind you your're talking about lando norris...
oscarpiastri i think you should put yourself together and be a professional
yn on god i'll
✩✩✩‧₊˚
your gaze swept across the conference room. ferrari’s staff hovered beside you, trying to fix the smudged makeup on your face before you stepped in front of the cameras. you gave them a weak smile — the kind that didn’t reach your eyes. one of them looked at you with that expression that said, “girl, i’m not paid enough to deal with this.” you whispered an apology, lips barely moving, like you were afraid to hear your own trembling voice.
“want me to ask if they can move your slot?” paul, one of the staff, asked. his voice was soft, careful, like he didn’t want to hurt you by being too firm.
“it’s fine… i’m a big girl, i can handle this,” you said, sighing.
“i’m not gonna ask what happened or what didn’t happen, but i hope it doesn’t mess with tomorrow’s quali. you’re fifth in the championship — still a shot at fourth.” he spoke gently, dabbing a tissue at the corner of your eye. “go on…” he pointed to the couch.
only one seat was left — right in the middle, between lando and carlos sainz. you wanted to ask carlos to scoot over, wanted to say, “please don’t make me sit next to him, i don’t think i can handle it.” but you couldn’t. the cameras filming didn’t allow it. besides, lando norris could be a lot of things, but he wasn’t to blame for your own madness.
you sat down, trying to control your breathing, your heart pounding like every camera flash was a painful reminder poking at your wound. the microphone in front of you looked bigger than it should — like an impossible obstacle. carlos adjusted himself beside you, fiddling with his mic before offering a polite smile to the room. on the other side, lando looked far too relaxed — the posture of someone who hadn’t noticed the distance that had grown between you in recent weeks.
the first questions went to carlos. you pretended to listen, but the sound of cameras and muffled chatter from journalists blended with your own thoughts. your mind drifted to the rumors, to the photos of him with another girl, to the silence you both carried since then.
then you felt a subtle movement. lando leaned in, his voice low, just out of reach of the microphones:
“you okay?”
it took you a second to register. you glanced at him, too scared to meet those eyes that always looked too innocent. you just nodded quickly, like any hesitation would expose the chaos inside you. he accepted your answer with the same ease of someone who never noticed anything wrong.
“next question, please.”
a journalist asked about ferrari’s strategy after the summer break. you had the answer ready in your head, but before it was your turn, lando started talking about mclaren. and that’s when you got lost.
the way he spoke, gesturing lightly with his hands, the focus in his deep, calm voice… it was so familiar. for a moment, you remembered how many times you’d heard that same voice in casual conversations, inside hotel rooms, laughing at inside jokes only you two understood. the difference now was — you couldn’t laugh anymore. now, every word felt like it was pulling pieces from what you were trying to hide.
“yn?” — a journalist’s voice snapped you out of it.
you blinked fast, like waking from a trance.
“ah, sorry…” — a nervous smile slipped out, trying to mask it. “i think the summer break is still messing with my head.”
the room laughed with you. but you just wanted to shrink into your chair and disappear.
the questions kept coming. carlos answered with elegance, always composed. lando, with that playful charm, made the room laugh. you tried to stay present, but every time he spoke, your gaze betrayed you. you noticed things no one else did — the way he ran a hand through his hair before starting a sentence, how his mouth curved slightly when he spoke with confidence, how the room seemed to orbit around him without him even realizing.
then came the question you feared.
“it seems everyone here is in a happy relationship. will you be bringing your partners to the next race?”
you felt the air leave your lungs. your smile froze. the microphone in front of you felt like it weighed a ton.
“i don’t have a... partner, actually.”
it came out low, almost a whisper.
there was a brief silence before the journalist mumbled an apology. you tried to pull yourself together, but it was too late. carlos answered, as charming and polite as ever. lando joked, got more laughs. but when he started talking, you stopped existing in that room. your eyes lost focus, your body present only out of obligation. you gave minimal answers when needed, nodded with empty gestures, and let the conference go on without you.
when it finally ended, you were the first to stand. you walked fast, not looking to either side, like the ground might collapse if you stopped. you rushed through the corridors, dodging anyone who tried to stop you, and only truly breathed when you saw the rental car. you opened the door and got in all at once, the flashes outside catching your red face, your teary eyes you couldn’t hide. no smile, no wave — nothing like the warmth you usually offered the journalists who always treated you kindly.
the car door slammed shut. and for the first time in a long time, you let the silence weigh more than any word.
the drive through zandvoort’s streets felt blurry, like the city had been wrapped in a thin veil. you drove like you knew the roads, but none of it felt familiar. the car, heavy in your hands, seemed to mock your experience; you, who were used to controlling violent machines at over 300 km/h, now couldn’t keep steady on a simple steering wheel. maybe it wasn’t the car. maybe it was the weight of your own heart.
your hands tingled, fingers gripping tighter than they should. you hated this — hated feeling so weak because of a man. worse: because of him. your once best friend. the boy who had been by your side since year one, when everything was hostile, when you were just a girl trying to survive formula 1.
zandvoort, with its salty air and cold wind from the coast, welcomed you in silence. you parked without thinking, carelessly, in a secluded spot by the beach where no one else was. the engine still hummed when your phone started ringing — over and over. you answered on reflex, ready to hear a scolding from someone at ferrari.
but it wasn’t.
“where are you, love?” — the soft voice, with that british accent you knew too well, hit you straight in the chest.
you closed your eyes, the lump in your throat impossible to hide. all you wanted was to ask him to leave you alone. but you couldn’t lie.
“at the beach… i don’t know where exactly. it’s far.”
silence on the other end, then a firm reply:
“i’m coming. don’t move.”
your first instinct was to run. drive away, keep going until the gas ran out. like movement could dissolve the feelings. but they were rooted. planted, nurtured, too deep inside you.
you sat on the cold sand, the wind hitting your face, when you heard the car stop behind yours. you didn’t need to look to know it was him. you felt it. every cell in your body knew. your eyes were red, watery, tired of holding back. and for the first time, the smile that always followed you wasn’t there — and that’s what he noticed first.
“want to talk?” — he asked, voice low, steady. he didn’t ask if you were okay — he knew you weren’t. didn’t ask what happened — maybe because he was afraid of the answer.
you took a deep breath, but your voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper:
“i don’t know.”
he stepped closer, the sand crunching under his feet. stayed near, but not too close. eyes fixed on you, waiting.
“is it about the team?” — he tried. “or the pressure? or… did someone say something?”
you closed your eyes, wishing the world would stop. you wanted to scream and hide at the same time. your chest burned, your breath faltered. until you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“it’s you.” — the confession came out torn, almost a sob. you looked at him, eyes blurred, but finally facing him. “it’s always you. you haunt me when i sleep, it’s your face i see when i dream, your voice in every corner of my head. i wish things had been different, but it’s too late now. i like you. too much. i can’t control it.”
silence. he blinked, surprised, like your words were punches.
“why didn’t you tell me before?”
you laughed without humor, a sad laugh.
“it doesn’t matter now. you’re with someone else. you should just be happy with her…”
he laughed. genuinely. and you frowned, confused, even more hurt.
“what are you laughing at?”
“i’m not dating anyone.” — his voice was calm, almost amused, like he couldn’t believe you actually thought that.
“but…?” — you tried, but the words wouldn’t come.
he ran a hand over his face, shaking his head.
“i did go out with her, yeah. but during dinner, i called her by your name like three times.” — his eyes were shining, locked on yours. “and she told me i should ‘grow a pair and confess to you.’ that was the final straw.”
you were speechless, frozen.
“we’re both idiots.” — it was all you could say.
he laughed again, softer this time, almost tender.
“i thought about telling you, so many times. but you seemed off, i figured it was work, the pressure… i didn’t want to stress you out even more with something so… trivial.”
you bit your lip, your eyes welling up again.
“i spent my summer break crying. every single day.”
he sighed, finally closing the distance between you. his hand brushed your hair gently, tucking a wind-blown strand behind your ear. it was delicate, intimate, like he was afraid of breaking you.
“i’m sorry.”
the word hung in the air, along with the sound of the ocean, your racing heart, and the heavy silence that was finally starting to crack.
you blinked, trying to swallow the tears, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t budge. before you could say anything, he leaned in. the touch was soft, hesitant at first, until his lips found yours like they already knew the way. the kiss wasn’t just apology, or desire — it was a silent plea: “don’t leave.”
when you pulled apart, both of you were smiling without realizing. he rested his forehead against yours, laughing quietly, his warm breath mixing with the salty breeze.
“you…” — he started, voice slow. “you complicate everything.”
you let out a nervous laugh, trying to catch your breath. “and you only make it worse, you know?”
his laugh came easy, and soon you were walking back, hands almost touching, like any wrong move would lead to another kiss. and it probably would.
on the empty road, with both cars parked crookedly, the scene repeated itself: side by side, but each in front of a different car. you pointed to yours, biting your lip with a barely hidden smirk.
“well, i guess i’ll see you tomorrow.”
he raised his eyebrows. “wait, are you serious?”
“what? each of us has our own room, our own bed, our own hotel.”
lando huffed, throwing his arms up. “you’re kidding me. i’m not letting you drive back alone. i’m a gentleman.”
you laughed. “yeah, a gentleman who loves to argue with me.”
“i’m driving you back.” — he declared, already grabbing his car keys. “i’ll figure out someone to pick up your rental later.”
you sighed dramatically. “always bossy, huh?”
“only when i know i’m right.” — he opened the car door for you, like it was obvious there was no room for debate.
on the way, you let the comfortable silence grow, but when you reached the hotel entrance, you couldn’t resist.
“wanna come up?” — you said it simply, but with a weight that made the meaning clear.
he swallowed hard, laughing nervously. “yn…”
“what?” — you teased, voice trembling between playfulness and confession. “i’ve got separation anxiety now. don’t wanna be apart.”
he shook his head, laughing out loud. “you’re impossible. i can’t say no to you.”
the elevator felt too small with both of you inside, and when you reached the room, you dropped the keys on the table and pulled him in again by the collar — another kiss that felt inevitable.
between laughs and whispers, he paused, looking into your eyes with sudden seriousness.
“just so you know…” — he began, still smiling. “i’m going to ask you out properly. the most traditional, cheesy, over-the-top way possible. so get ready.”
you raised your eyebrows, pretending to be shocked. “bold of you to assume ferrari and mclaren will let us date in peace, without hiding.”
he shrugged, his hand still on your waist. “doesn’t matter. i’m asking anyway.”
and you couldn’t hold back the laugh before kissing him again, knowing that, for the first time in months, the future felt a little less terrifying.
the hotel hallway was quiet, except for the echo of your hurried footsteps. outside, the sea still roared beneath the night’s veil, a deep, constant sound that seemed to follow lando like a lingering memory of the recent fight. he walked beside you, hands buried in his pockets, as if afraid that if he let them loose, he’d give in to the urge to touch you.
when you reached the door, you stopped. there was a mischievous glint in your eyes, still damp, but now shimmering with something that mixed vulnerability and boldness. you turned the key, opened the door, and before he could protest, leaned against the frame, silently inviting him.
“come in.” — you said, simple, but with a firmness that shattered any resistance he still had.
he stepped inside slowly, like entering sacred ground, and sat on the couch near the bed, trying to hold onto a rationality that was already slipping. the room was lit only by the soft yellow glow of the lamp, and the distant sound of waves filled the silence between you.
you walked to the open suitcase on the armchair and started rummaging through clothes, picking something light to change into after your shower. the gestures seemed casual, but every movement carried silent intention. the curve of your shoulders, the way you tied your hair up, the soft laugh that escaped your lips — everything felt designed to disarm him.
“you’re dangerous.” — he murmured, barely realizing he’d said it out loud.
you turned, raising your eyebrows with fake innocence. “me?”
lando rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “yeah… always knewn i was crazy about you, and still you posted bikini pics every single week. like you knew exactly what it did to me..."
you laughed out loud, falling back onto the bed, your hair spreading like a halo around your head. your eyes, still red from crying, sparkled with a mischievous joy that left him breathless.
“and you invited me to train wearing the shortest shorts in your closet.” — he continued, unable to stop the flow of words, like a late confession demanding to be heard.
you rested your face in your hands, looking at him like someone watching a secret unfold. “i did all that and you still didn’t feel motivated to ask me out?” — you laughed, sweetly ironic. “must be karmic, then.”
he sighed deeply, looking away. “don’t say that… i always wanted to. but what if it ruined our friendship?”
“it’s okay. that part’s over.” — you said, rising from the bed with ease and crossing the space between you. with a gesture almost innocent, you settled into his lap, leaving no room for him to pull away.
lando’s heart raced. your perfume-scented skin, mixed with the sweetness still clinging to your hair, seemed to intoxicate him. he tried to speak, but the closeness reduced him to silence.
“i think it’s time for me to go…” — he whispered, trembling, more like a plea to himself than a decision.
“stay a little longer… please?.” — you ran your fingers through his hair, and he let himself close his eyes for a moment, surrendering to the tenderness of the gesture.
when he opened them, yours were fixed on his. pleading eyes, eyes that begged without words.
“should be special for you, love.” — he confessed, voice cracking, almost believing in his own resistance.
but you smiled — that smile he’d come to recognize from miles away. not the one you wore for cameras or friends, but one loaded with something he couldn’t name — maybe vulnerability, maybe desire, maybe both.
“but it’s special because it’s with you.” — you murmured, with a quiet certainty that completely disarmed him.
you looked at him with a confidence that felt impossible for someone confessing such raw emotion. and before you could stop yourself, you let it slip:
“if there’s one person in the world i want to… fuck with, it’s you.”
as soon as the words left your mouth, heat rushed to your cheeks. you looked away, biting your lip, and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from laughing at how sweetly nervous you were.
“should i have said ‘make love’ instead?” — you murmured, voice trembling, almost childlike in its hesitation.
he nodded slowly, eyes still locked on you like he was trying to absorb every detail of what you’d just said.
you leaned in, inch by inch, like every second was a test of how long he could hold back before giving in. he didn’t move. his whole body was tense, breath shallow, like temptation had taken over every muscle.
and when your soft laugh escaped, calling him “silly,” it was like every wall he’d built over the past few months came crashing down.
he pulled you closer, arms wrapping around your waist, forehead resting against yours.
“you drive me insane,” — he whispered, voice low and wrecked. “i’ve wanted you for so long, and now you’re here, saying things like that, and i don’t know how to breathe.”
you smiled, brushing your nose against his. “then don’t think"
for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like you were falling apart.
liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alexsaintmlux and 4,445,444 users
yn zandvoort ❤️ loved each minute here.
maxverstappen1 I'm sure nude swimming is against the law
yn and here comes mr no fun 🙄🙄
lando no it's not
maxverstappen1 And here comes the defense squad
alexsaintmlux Pretty girl ❤️ liked by author
user THE ENERGY? LANDO LIKING? SHE'S HAPPY?
user the fact that she took a pic of lando pouring champagne and just cut out his face. queen.
oscarpiastri you two good now?
yn me and ?
oscarpiastri don't make me say bc i'll.
yn bold.
carlossainz55 😏
yn gossipers everywhere 🙄
charles_leclerc16 Great performance today, Yn!
yn thanks 🙏🏻 you did well too!
lando 😏😏
yn 🍆🍑🏨⌚?
lando 😁😁
yn 😏🙏🏻👌🏻💧💧😋?
lando 👌🏻👌🏻💧🍑
scuderiaferrari STOP YOU TWO.
yn ? just sharing some emojis, is it a crime?
oscarpiastri i’m not saying anything but i’m saying everything
yn ??? ok
lando you cropped me out but kept the 🍾? rude
yn had to gatekeep
lando omg cutie
user if #they’re not dating then i’m not breathing
yn posted a story "on god he'll win wdc"
replies
scuderiaferrari Yn, please. We can not have a say in your personal life, but it's getting out of hand. You can't root for another competitor.
yn but... :( but daddy i love him !
scuderiaferrari Oh, god.
oscarpiastri give him some brown contacts pls
oscarpiastri damn we see them
yn he's always staring into my soul
yn Throughout Heaven and Earth, He alone is the honored one
oscarpiastri you DID NOT compare the goatjo with lando norris.
yn 🙄 - lando
oscarpiastri 🙄
carlossainz55 Thank god you guys worked things out
yn wut
carlossainz55 Too much tension around
yn 🙄
Summary : While filming a “What’s In My Bag?” video for TUMI during a dreamy shoot in Lake Como, Lando Norris proudly shares his favorite travel items: headphones, cinnamon mints, lucky charms… and a stack of Polaroids of his girlfriend.
Until one very private photo slips into the mix, and suddenly the internet sees a whole lot more than he meant to show.
Genre : suggestive, fluff, oneshot
Pairing : Lando Norris x reader
Warning : mature content, allusion to nude and sex activities
Main Masterlist
Author notes : funny and soft oneshot to bring a little bit of joy after the race of Sunday. Everyone please stay safe and if you can, stay away from social media if it gets too hard after this week-end race, love you all <3
Lake Como glistened in the soft morning light, its surface scattered with diamonds of sun as gentle waves rolled against the dock. A light breeze rustled the cypress trees lining the water’s edge, carrying with it the scent of pine and polished wood from the nearby villas. Birds chirped, water lapped, cameras clicked.
And somewhere on a private terrace above the lake, Lando Norris was trying not to sweat through his linen shirt.
“Alright, we’re rolling in three, two, one...” the cameraman’s voice faded into silence as the red light blinked on.
Lando sat back in the sleek director-style chair, a black TUMI backpack resting on his lap. He adjusted the strap, cleared his throat, and gave the camera his signature, cheeky grin.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
His voice echoed softly against the terracotta walls behind him.
“This is my TUMI backpack. I take it everywhere, especially when I’m traveling. It’s kind of like my...survival kit,” he chuckled, unzipping the top compartment. “You’ll see what I mean.”
One by one, he began pulling items out, placing them carefully on the small table beside him.
“First up: my headphones,” he said, holding up a sleek black pair. “Can’t live without these. Whether it’s music, Netflix on the plane, or zoning out in the paddock, these save me.”
He paused and smirked at the camera. “They also help when I’m pretending not to hear Oscar.”
The staff behind the camera chuckled.
“Next... passports. Plural. Yeah. I have three.” He fanned them out like a hand of cards, laughing. “I’m international, baby.”.”
He dug deeper into the backpack and pulled out a small, velvet pouch. Opening it carefully, he revealed several stone bracelets in warm earthy tones.
“My mum got me these for Christmas,” he said quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t always wear them on track days, but I keep them close. Just… makes me feel a bit more grounded.”
He placed them gently down and then brandished a small tin.
“Cinnamon mints,” he declared proudly. “For the sweet tooth. Helps with cravings. Or when you want to pretend you don’t eat like a raccoon at midnight.”
More laughter. The atmosphere was warm, friendly. Lando was in his element, somewhere between boyish and bold.
“Now we’re getting to the fun stuff.”
He pulled out a tangled mess of keychains, one shaped like a tiny McLaren helmet, another a fluffy orange pom-pom, and the last: a piece of tissue with the initials LN sewn into it.
“A fan gave me this,” he said, holding it between his fingers. “I’ve had it for years. It’s falling apart but... can’t travel without it.”
He smiled at the memory, then paused as his hand slipped into one of the deeper side pockets. His brow furrowed.
“Oh... wait,” he muttered, pulling something halfway out before immediately stuffing it back in.
He looked up at the camera, suddenly sheepish.
“Uhh...yeah. Some stuff I definitely can’t show you,” he said, grinning and scratching the back of his neck. “Let’s just say... it's better to stay protected”
The staff broke into laughter. One of the camera guys let out a dramatic “ooooohhh.”
“What?” Lando laughed, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “You never know, okay? I like to get prepared.”
Still grinning, he reached again into the bag and pulled out a small, silver disposable camera.
“This guy comes everywhere with me,” he said. “I take film photos when I travel. Stuff that’s just for me, you know? Not for Instagram. Just memories.”
He held it up with affection, then reached in again and began pulling out little mementos: a handmade skull keyring from Mexico, a folded receipt with something scribbled on the back, a broken friendship bracelet.
“I’m kind of a hoarder,” he admitted. “These are all... pieces of places. People. Moments. I like keeping them close.”
His hand brushed against something in the side pocket. A small, rubbery bottle.
He pulled it out before he registered what it was.
There was a beat.
He stared at the camera.
The bottle gleamed in the sunlight. Bright pink. Labelled clearly ' Lubricant: Strawberry flavor' .
“Oh. My god.”
He blinked, went pale, then immediately turned red.
“I...okay, that’s not, this is not...this wasn’t meant to be in here.”
He stuffed it back into the pocket, eyes wide.
The cameraman wheezed behind the lens. A staffer covered her mouth.
“I swear this is not... I didn’t pack this bag this morning!” Lando stammered. “Okay I did, but not, like, not with this interview in mind so I didn't know I had to show it.”
Lando groaned. “Can we cut that out? Please? It’s for...dry skin.”
“Oh wich part of your skin?”
He buried his face in his hands and trie to change the subject.
Still flustered, he grabbed one of his tech pouches and unzipped it, desperate to pivot.
“Oh!” he beamed. “Okay. These are my favorites.”
From the padded pouch meant for a laptop, he pulled out a neat little stack of Polaroids tied with a red ribbon. He untied them quickly, holding the first one up to the camera.
“This... is my girlfriend.”
The way he said it, like he couldn’t believe his luck, was soft, sincere.
He flipped through the pictures with reverence.
“This is her in Spain last summer. Look at this, she was trying to take a serious photo and I made a face behind her.”
He laughed.
“This is us in Monaco. Don’t ask how I convinced her to get in the pool. She hates cold water.”
Another.
“This is her sleeping. And this... this is her at breakfast, in my hoodie.”
His smile melted into something private, like a quiet sunrise behind his eyes.
“And this...”
He held up the next Polaroid to the camera without looking at it first. There was a beat. A pause.
From behind the camera, someone made a choked noise.
Lando glanced up. “What?” Then looked at the picture.
“Oh...oh, no. No, no, no...”
He yanked it back quickly, his ears flushing bright pink.
“Shit, this isn’t...this was not supposed to be in that pile.”
He stuffed it deep into the side of the bag, clutching the remaining Polaroids protectively.
“Oh my god, please can you blur it,” he groaned, covering his face. “That’s from the other pile. Like...the private-private collection.”
The entire crew burst into cackles.
“I swear to god if that makes the cut, I’m a dead man. She’s going to kill me.”
“Was that a nude?” someone asked, not even trying to hide the glee.
“I am not answering that.”
“Was it?” the assistant pressed.
“I plead the fifth,” Lando said dramatically, still red-faced. “Blur it. Blur it, please. I’m begging you. I have a career. I have a relationship.”
He tried to laugh it off, but his smile was flustered, eyes wide and nervous.
Eventually, he cleared his throat, trying to move on.
“Anyway. My phone. My wallet. You know. The boring stuff.”
But even as he listed the rest of his items, he kept glancing at the camera, haunted. Regretfully boyish. Still blushing.
“Alright. That’s what’s in my bag,” he said quickly, snapping the backpack shut. “And apparently... a reason to get murdered by my girlfriend.”
He groaned again. “Can we cut that part? Please? I swear, she’s gonna make me sleep on the balcony.”
The red light turned off.
The staff burst into applause.
“Best interview yet,” one of the directors laughed, clapping. “Gonna break the internet.”
@TUMIofficial
WHAT’S IN MY BAG with Lando Norris: Lake Como Special
Catch our exclusive behind-the-scenes interview with what Lando really carries with him👀
@_user1
WAIT. Did he just… show a nude of his gf on camera?? 😭😭😭
@_user2
THE WAY HE PANICKED. omg that was NOT staged. He looked like he wanted to die 💀💀💀
@_user3
No bc I NEED to know what was on that Polaroid. Was it like artsy nude or nude-nude?
@_user4
LMFAO he had the audacity to hint at condoms, then literally WHIPPED OUT A NUDE LIKE IT’S A FAMILY VACAY SNAP 💀💀
@_user5
He carries cinnamon mints for his sweet tooth AND spicy pics of his girl?? man’s layered fr
@_user6
Not Lando Norris accidentally exposing his thirst for his gf on a sponsored ad 😭 someone check on the TUMI PR team
@_user7
Lube AND nudes of his girl?? Lando Norris is not packing for a trip. He’s packing for a weekend of sin.
@_user8
He really said: “this is her being pretty, this is her sleeping… and this is her NAKED” lmao LANDO WHYYYYY
@_user9
This man is not traveling. He’s on a mission.
@_user10
Lando really opened that bag and gave us: emotional support bracelets, cinnamon mints, protection, lube, porn. He's got range.
@_user11
“Some stuff I can’t show you” and then five minutes later accidentally shows us 😭 this man has NO filter and NO chill
@_user12
This isn’t a “what’s in my bag” this was a “what’s in normally in my bedroom drawer but I somehow take it everywhere in my backpak”
@_user13
He said “I like to be prepared” and I believe him now
@_user14
“That’s from the other pile” UM. HELLO????? THERE IS A PILE??
@_user15
Protective AND obsessed with his girl?? I need a man like Lando
@_user16
He really said “what’s in my bag?” and the answer was: horniness
Texts messages
Y/N
Just watched the TUMI video 😇
Lando
Oh no.
Y/N
The one where my nude photo makes a guest appearance in front of 1.2 million people? 🤗
Lando
BABE
It was an ACCIDENT But don't worry it's blur we can't see a single thing
I didn’t mean to pull that photo
I meant the cute ones!! The breakfast one!! The one where you’re wearing my hoodie!!
Y/N
So you show the one where i’m wearing nothing at all?
Lando
I’m sweating
I’m actually sweating
I’m gonna get sued. by you. By TUMI. By your parents
Y/N
My mum did text me
She said “interesting campaign... very modern”
Lando
NOOOOOOOOOOOO
I’m crawling into the lake
Y/N Also “i like to be prepared”?
Really?
What exactly are you preparing for mid-flight with lube? 🤔
Lando
Dry skin!!!
I said it's for my dry skin!!!!!
Y/N
Right
Because when i think of skin hydratation i think of edible lubricant 🙃
Lando
I’m scared to check twitter
Someone called my bag “frat boy coded" They’re not wrong
Y/N You do carry condoms, lube, candy and a Polaroid of me naked in the same backpack
You’re like Dora the Explorer if she was addicted to sex
Lando
DORA?!?!?! 😭
Y/N
“What’s in my bag?” Everything but self-control
Lando
Okay, first of all, RUDE
Second of all… the lube smells nice
Third of all…
You didn’t complain last time
Y/N
Oh so now you’re doubling down??
Lando
Just trying to make the best of my public humiliation
Besides
What’s so wrong with carrying a few... essentials?
A man’s gotta travel prepared
Y/N
You sound like a horny boy scout
Lando
“Always be ready” is a valid motto 🙋♂️
Y/N
Valid until you drop a bottle of lube in front of a camera crew
Lando
They laughed so hard i thought someone was gonna need CPR
Y/N
You’re lucky i love you
And you’re lucky the nude was actually a good one
Lando
Thank you 🥺 i almost show the one where you’re biting the sheet but i had... instincts
Y/N
INSTINCTS????
You mean your last two brain cells had a moment of clarity
Lando
Pls
Do you still love me?
Y/N
Debatable
Might depend on whether or not you bring me almond croissants when you will come back
Lando
Deal
But only if you let me take a new Polaroid…
One just for me to see😉
Y/N
…
Good luck on media day tomorrow Norris
Lando
Oh no god I forgot about that
The paddock was already buzzing by the time Lando arrived, hoodie up over his head like he was trying to go incognito. Not that it helped, cameras turned as soon as he walked through the gates.
Media day.
He kept his head down, offering a few tight-lipped smiles to passing crew and journalists. He could feel the looks. The barely contained smirks. The PR team had already warned him to "expect commentary.” He hadn’t realized commentary meant the entire motorsport world was now intimately familiar with the contents of his bag.
He reached the McLaren hospitality unit and headed straight for the driver lounge.
Oscar was already there.
He looked up from his phone the second Lando walked in, and the smile started immediately.
“Morning,” Oscar said, way too casual. “Sleep well?”
Lando didn’t answer. Just dropped into the chair across from him and stared at the ceiling.
Oscar waited half a beat.
Then: “So… what’s in your bag today?”
Lando groaned, eyes closing. “No.”
“No what?” Oscar asked, blinking innocently.
“I’m not doing this with you.”
Oscar nodded slowly, tapping his phone against the table. “Right. Of course. Strict media day focus. No time for lube talk.”
Lando didn’t move but look at him shocked. “Oscar!”
“Yes?”
“I will actually fight you if you keep talking”
Oscar continued, unfazed. “I’ve learned a lot about you this week.”
“Please stop.”
“Your skincare routine. Your travel essentials.”
“It’s for my girlfriend,” Lando muttered.
Oscar nodded slowly. “Romantic.”
Lando looked at him. “I didn’t mean to show half that stuff.”
Oscar took a long sip of his water bottle, then added, deadpan: “You were really sweating.”
“I was panicking, Oscar.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
There was a pause.
Oscar looked back down at his phone.
“I just didn’t know you were the type to carry… souvenirs.”
Lando threw his head back and groaned. “It’s private. It’s supposed to stay private.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You handed it to a camera crew.”
“I didn’t know it was that one.”
Oscar hummed. “Risky system.”
Lando covered his face. “I’m not coming out for media. Tell them I’ve combusted.”
Oscar leaned back again, shrugging. “Might be safer. Someone from Williams asked if you’re sponsored by Durex now.”
Lando didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to crawl into his chair.
Oscar gave a tiny, satisfied nod.
Then, after a beat: “At least the mints were normal.”
“Thanks,” Lando said miserably. “Really comforting.”
Oscar took another sip from his water bottle, then looked back at Lando, who was still sulking in the chair across from him, hoodie half over his face.
After a moment, Oscar spoke again. Calm. Curious.
“Okay, but... I actually have a question now.”
Lando didn’t move. “Please don’t.”
Oscar ignored him, tone completely deadpan. “What’s in the pile?”
Lando sat up slowly, blinking at him in horror. “What the hell, Oscar?”
Oscar stayed relaxed, perfectly composed. “You said it yourself. There's the normal Polaroids. And then there’s the private-private pile. So… what’s in it?”
“I am not...” Lando pointed at him, absolutely done. “...having this conversation with you.”
Oscar raised a brow. “Just curious. For science.”
Lando stood up instantly. “I’m leaving.”
Oscar shrugged. “Fair.”
Lando stormed toward the door, muttering something about changing teams, changing sports, maybe even changing names.
He was halfway out when,
“Oi!” Oscar called after him. “Don’t forget your backpack, Norris.”
Lando froze mid-step.
Oscar was already grinning.
“You left it,” he added, far too casually. “Y’know… the one with your precious things in it.”
Lando turned around like a man walking back into a crime scene, snatched the bag off the chair with one hand, and glared.
“Stop talking about it,” he muttered.
Oscar just smiled. “I’m not saying anything.”
“You are thinking them.”
Oscar leaned back, unfazed. “I’m not.”
“You’re being insufferable.”
Lando slung the bag over his shoulder and walked out without another word.
As the door shut behind him, Oscar shook his head slightly and let out a quiet laugh, just enough to himself, just loud enough for it to echo in Lando’s memory for years to come.
Original Request “lando is obsessed with the fact she’s a virgin and it turns him on so much and like the first time they’re having sex he goes crazy it’s like he’s spitting out pure filth like “aw first cock for baby”.
The hotel room door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the air felt different—charged, electric, heavy with anticipation. Lando's hand found the small of your back, guiding you further into the dimly lit space. Monaco's city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in a soft, golden glow.
"Come here," he murmured, his voice already rougher than usual.
You'd been dating for months now, and every moment had been building to this. The stolen kisses in paddock corridors, the heated make-out sessions that always ended with him pulling away, breathing hard, asking if you were sure you wanted to wait. You'd told him you wanted your first time to be special, with someone who mattered. And God, did he matter.
Lando pulled you against him, his hands sliding up your sides as his mouth found yours. The kiss started soft, almost reverent, but quickly deepened into something more desperate. His tongue swept against yours as his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access.
"You have no idea," he breathed against your lips, "how fucking crazy you make me."
Your hands found his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath your palms. "Lando..."
"Knowing that no one's ever touched you like this," he continued, his voice dropping lower as his hands roamed your body over your dress. "That I'm going to be the first one to make you feel good... fuck, baby, it drives me insane."
Heat flooded through you at his words. You'd told him weeks ago, nervous and blushing, that you'd never been with anyone before. The way his eyes had darkened, the way he'd pulled you into his lap and kissed you breathless—you'd realized then that it affected him more than you'd expected.
"I want this," you whispered, looking up at him. "I want you."
Something shifted in his expression—desire mixing with possessiveness and a hint of that cocky confidence that made him so magnetic on and off the track. His hands found the zipper at the back of your dress, slowly dragging it down.
"You're sure?" he asked, even as his fingers traced the newly exposed skin of your back. "Because once we start, baby, I don't know if I'll be able to stop. I've been thinking about this—about you—for so fucking long."
"I'm sure," you breathed, and that was all the permission he needed.
Lando peeled your dress down your shoulders, his eyes tracking every inch of revealed skin like he was memorizing it. The fabric pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in just your underwear. You fought the urge to cover yourself, especially when his gaze raked over you with such raw hunger.
"Fucking perfect," he muttered, more to himself than to you. His hands came up to cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened beneath the lace. "And all mine. No one else has seen you like this, have they?"
You shook your head, breath catching as he leaned down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.
"That's right," he murmured against your skin. "Just me. Only me."
Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. He helped you, shrugging it off impatiently before pulling his t-shirt over his head. You'd seen him shirtless before—in photos, in videos, even once at the beach—but having him here, in front of you, knowing what was about to happen, made everything feel different.
Lando walked you backward toward the bed, his hands never leaving your body. When the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you sat, looking up at him as he stood over you. The bulge in his jeans was obvious, straining against the denim, and your mouth went dry.
"See what you do to me?" he asked, palming himself briefly. "I've been hard since we left dinner. Knowing I was finally going to have you, that I was going to be your first..." He groaned, the sound rough and needy. "Get on the bed properly, baby. Lie back for me."
You did as he asked, scooting backward until your head hit the pillows. Lando followed, crawling over you with a predatory grace that made your stomach flip. He settled between your legs, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he kissed you again—deeper, filthier, his tongue claiming your mouth like he was about to claim the rest of you.
His hand slid down your stomach, fingers tracing the edge of your panties. "Can I touch you?"
"Yes," you gasped, and his hand immediately slipped beneath the fabric.
The first brush of his fingers against your most intimate place made you jolt. No one had ever touched you there except yourself, and the sensation of someone else—of Lando—was overwhelming.
"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as his fingers explored. "So fucking wet and I've barely touched you. Is this all for me, baby? Your first time getting this wet for someone?"
"Lando," you whimpered, your hips moving instinctively against his hand.
"That's it," he encouraged, his fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Feel good? Tell me it feels good."
"It feels—oh God—it feels amazing."
He made a satisfied sound, kissing down your neck as his fingers continued their exploration. When one finger pressed gently at your entrance, you tensed slightly.
"Relax, baby," he murmured. "I've got you. Just want to feel you. Want to feel how tight you are."
He pushed inside slowly, and you couldn't stop the moan that escaped. His finger felt foreign but not unwelcome, especially when he started moving it in and out, his thumb still working your clit.
"So fucking tight," he breathed, sounding almost pained. "Jesus Christ, you're going to feel incredible around my cock. Have you thought about it? About me being inside you?"
You nodded, unable to form words as he added a second finger, stretching you carefully.
"Yeah? What did you think about?" His voice was pure sin, dark and demanding. "Tell me."
"I thought about—" you gasped as his fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "About how it would feel. If it would hurt. If you'd be gentle."
"I'll take care of you," he promised, but there was an edge to his voice that suggested 'gentle' might be relative. "But I can't promise I'll be able to hold back completely. Not when I've been fantasizing about ruining this perfect virgin pussy for months."
The crude words should have shocked you, but instead they sent another wave of heat through your body. You could feel yourself getting wetter around his fingers, your body responding to his filthy mouth.
Lando pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered at the loss. He sat back on his heels, reaching behind you to unhook your bra with practiced ease. When your breasts were bare to him, he made a low sound of appreciation.
"Fucking beautiful," he muttered, leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak while his hand kneaded your other breast, and the dual sensation made you arch into him.
He lavished attention on your chest, sucking and licking and occasionally biting gently until you were squirming beneath him. Then his hands hooked into your panties, and he dragged them down your legs, leaving you completely naked.
"Spread your legs," he commanded softly. "Let me see all of you."
You obeyed, feeling vulnerable and exposed but also incredibly turned on by the way he was looking at you—like you were the most desirable thing he'd ever seen.
"Perfect," he breathed. "My perfect girl. And no one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you, taste you, fuck you. Just me, right?"
"Just you," you confirmed, and he smiled—that devastating smile that had first caught your attention.
Lando stood up just long enough to strip off his jeans and boxer briefs, and then he was naked too. Your eyes went wide at the sight of him—his cock hard and flushed, bigger than you'd imagined, already leaking at the tip.
"Don't look so worried," he said, though he sounded pleased by your reaction. "I'll make it fit. Your body was made for this, baby. Made for me."
He reached for his wallet, pulling out a condom, and you watched as he rolled it on with efficient movements. Then he was back over you, settling between your thighs, his cock pressing against your entrance.
"You ready?" he asked, and despite everything, despite the filthy things he'd been saying, there was genuine care in his eyes. "We can still stop if—"
"Don't stop," you interrupted. "Please, Lando. I want this. I want you."
He kissed you deeply, and then you felt the pressure as he started to push inside.
The stretch was immediate and intense. You gasped against his mouth, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.
"Breathe, baby," he murmured, holding still. "Just breathe. You're doing so good. Taking your first cock so well."
He pushed in another inch, and you whimpered. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was overwhelming—the fullness, the stretch, the intimacy of having him inside you.
"Fuck, you're tight," Lando groaned, his voice strained. "So fucking tight around me. Can feel you squeezing my cock. Does it hurt, baby? Tell me if it hurts."
"It's just—a lot," you managed.
"I know, I know," he soothed, kissing your jaw, your cheeks, your lips. "But you're taking me so well. Such a good girl, letting me be your first. Letting me have this virgin pussy."
He pushed in deeper, and you felt a brief, sharp sting that made you tense.
"Shh, relax," he whispered. "The hard part's almost over. Just a little more and I'll be all the way inside you. Gonna fill you up with my cock, baby. Gonna make you mine."
With one more slow thrust, he bottomed out, and you both moaned. Lando dropped his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged.
"Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck, you feel incredible. So tight and wet and perfect. Can't believe I'm inside you. Can't believe I get to be your first."
He held still, letting you adjust, but you could feel him trembling with the effort of restraining himself. His cock was throbbing inside you, and slowly, the discomfort was fading into something else—something that made you want more.
"You can move," you whispered.
"You sure?"
"Yes. Please move."
Lando pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, and then thrust back in. The sensation made you cry out, and he did it again, establishing a slow, deep rhythm.
"That's it," he groaned. "Take it, baby. Take your first cock. Fuck, you look so good like this—spread out beneath me, taking every inch. This is what you were made for. Made to be fucked by me."
His words were getting filthier, his control slipping as he moved inside you. Each thrust was a little harder, a little faster, and you found yourself meeting his movements, your hips rising to take him deeper.
"Look at you," he continued, his voice rough and almost reverent. "My sweet, innocent girl, getting fucked for the first time. And you love it, don't you? Can feel how wet you are, how your pussy's gripping my cock. Your body knows what it wants even if you've never done this before."
"Lando," you moaned, overwhelmed by the sensations, by his words, by everything.
"That's right, say my name. Want you to remember this forever—remember that I was your first. That I'm the one who took your virginity, who made you feel this good." He thrust particularly deep, making you gasp. "Aw, first cock for baby and she's taking it so fucking well. So proud of you, sweetheart."
The praise mixed with the filth was intoxicating. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groaned.
"Fuck yes, just like that. Want it deeper? Want me to fuck you harder?" He didn't wait for an answer, increasing his pace until the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else. Not that there will be anyone else. You're mine now. My girl. My perfect, tight little virgin—well, not a virgin anymore, are you?"
You shook your head, unable to form words as pleasure built inside you. It was different from when you touched yourself—more intense, more all-consuming. Every thrust hit spots inside you that made your toes curl.
"That's right," Lando continued, one hand sliding between your bodies to rub your clit. "Not a virgin anymore because I'm inside you. Because my cock is stretching this perfect pussy. And you're going to come for me, aren't you? Going to come on your first cock like a good girl."
The combination of his fingers on your clit and his cock inside you was too much. You felt something building, tightening in your core, different from any orgasm you'd given yourself.
"Lando, I think—I think I'm going to—"
"Come," he commanded. "Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel it. Let me feel your virgin pussy coming for the first time with someone inside you."
His words pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm hit like a wave, making you cry out his name as your body clenched around him. The pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from where you were joined, making your whole body shake.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Lando chanted, his rhythm faltering. "Can feel you coming. Can feel you squeezing my cock. So fucking perfect. Gonna make me come too. Gonna fill you up—fuck, baby, I'm—"
He thrust deep one last time, his whole body going rigid as he came with a guttural moan. You felt him pulsing inside you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, his face buried in your neck.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, both trying to catch your breath. Your body felt boneless, satisfied in a way you'd never experienced before. Lando's weight was heavy on top of you, but you didn't mind. You ran your fingers through his damp curls, feeling his heart racing against your chest.
Finally, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft despite the intensity of what had just happened.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"More than okay," you assured him, and you meant it. Despite the soreness you were starting to feel, despite how overwhelming it had been, you felt amazing.
"Good," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. "You were perfect. So fucking perfect." He carefully pulled out, making you wince slightly, and disposed of the condom before returning to pull you into his arms. "How do you feel? Be honest."
"A little sore," you admitted. "But good. Really good."
Lando's hand stroked down your back possessively. "You're mine now," he said, and there was no question in his voice. "Completely mine. I was your first, and I'm going to be your last. No one else gets to touch you like this."
The possessiveness should have been concerning, but instead it made you feel wanted, cherished, claimed in the best way.
"I'm yours," you agreed, snuggling closer to him.
"Damn right you are," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "My girl. My perfect girl. And next time—" his hand slid down to squeeze your ass, "—I'm going to take my time. Going to taste every inch of you. Going to make you come so many times you forget your own name."
"Next time?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh baby," he said with that cocky grin, "we're just getting started. I've got months of fantasies to work through. Hope you're ready."
And as he kissed you again, his hands already starting to wander, you realized you were more than ready. You were his, completely and utterly, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
