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muntitled · 7 months ago

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Protecting His Investment

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: No one gets to hurt you except him.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Murder, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Voyeurism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

This can be read as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

“Shouldn't I be blindfolded?"

If it weren't for the silence simmering between you both, in this monotonous taxi drive, he might’ve not heard you at all and perhaps you should have been more careful with your choice of wording but you were feeling a tiny bit reckless this Wednesday afternoon. He hadn't ever offered to personally fetch you from campus, and you felt incredibly juvenile when you spotted him standing there like a dad, in his grown-up suit while his briefcase hung in his hands in front of him. You'd almost convinced yourself that you were imagining things. That somehow your obsession with the man who kidnaps you every Wednesday to fulfill all his messed up fantasies was truly taking a toll on your mental health.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he was real. And he had come to pick you up and you were feeling awfully giddy as he ushered you both into a taxi while a few of your peers stood and stared.

By now he would've blindfolded you. Keeping you completely clueless to the location he brings you to every Wednesday. See, your Salesman had myriad deep rooted issues. Mania. Sociopathy. Sadism. But the issue that irked you the very most was his inability to trust. Before you know it, you're pouting up a storm as you ask him. "Why aren't we using the blindfold today?"

He slowly removes his gaze from the window, where he had been pondering like the old man he is. He quirks up an eyebrow, letting the intensity of his attention wash completely over you.

"Would you like to be blindfolded?" He asks playfully. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and his lips are quirked up like it usually is when he's being sardonic. Still, you remain cautious as you lean forward. You send one quick glance to the taxi driver, wondering if you were being led in some kind of hearse on the road to your death.

"A-Are you going to kill me?" For the first time, cold, white fear ices the warm blood rushing through your veins. Come to think of it, he did seem far chirpier than usual. Perhaps that should have been your first warning. The flags were blood red but you were wearing rose-tinted glasses.

He only snickers before placing a heavy hand on your head, patting it down.

He doesn't answer you for the duration of the taxi drive, causing you to slip more and more into your thoughts of morbidity and despair. Why else wouldn't he blindfold you if not to end your life once you got there? It seemed dreadfully logical and so on-brand for him. He'd get bored of you sooner or later and then he'd dispose of you. There'd be no need to blindfold you any longer while he took you to his place because you'd soon become a corpse and-

"Doll." The voice cuts through the chatter filling your brain. All at once, the car has stopped, and warm air rushes into the interior as he holds the door open for you. "Get out of the nice man's car." He jests politely, quickly prompting you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scramble out of the taxi.

The second you're out he walks ahead of you. The building that comes into focus before you have your brows crinkling.

You quickly catch up to him, gazing up at his monotonous face. "Why are we here? You never come to my house."

He doesn't respond as you both walk into the foyer. He walks briskly and powerfully, like a man on the move while you send a small wave to the security manning the front desk. You both enter an empty elevator and he presses a button without you ever having to tell him which floor.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

He lowers his gaze to you, one eyebrow quirked up.

"You only die when you disappoint me and as of late," he stares directly ahead, "You haven't disappointed me."

The elevator dings and he steps out. You follow him like a puppy without a leash. "In fact I'd say your work ethic as of late has been-" he blows out a long sigh as he makes it your apartment door- recalling all the weeks you two have spent together in vivid kaleidoscopic images. All the pain you let him inflict on you and pleasure he'd offer as a reward.

"-nothing short of stellar. I'm proud of you." He punches in the code to your apartment and you both enter. The curtains are drawn shut because your roommate hates sunlight. You preferred it but there was no communicating with something like her.

He kicks off his shoes at the door.

"What are we doing here?" You ask nervously, "My roommate will be back soon and she isn't very nice."

"We won't be playing at my place today." He says finally meeting your wild and nervous eyes. He seems so lax and so in control. "We'll be playing here."

"B-But my roommate."

"Is that why you were crying?" His gaze keeps you rooted to the floors, unable to move even if you wanted to, "Because of your roommate?"

"Crying? I wasn't crying-"

"Back at the university," he says, casually removing a microscopic piece of lint from his grey blazer, "Your head was beant and you looked up at me with bloodshot eyes." His eyes shine with amusement as he says, "Usually with our sessions, the crying only comes later on." Then he quirks his head and asks, "What happened?" There's a bang somewhere in the apartment and your head snaps forward. Your eyes scan over the adjoining living room and kitchen but he seems unfazed.

"It's stupid-" you shake your head, "Like who even still gets bullied in uni?"

You laugh pitifully, leaning against the nearest wall. He stands tall before you. A brick wall.

"Your roommate's threatening to kick you out of this apartment to move her boyfriend in?" He asks before adding, "Again."

Your head snaps up to him, "H-How-"

In that moment, he turns rather robotically, making his way deeper into your home. It's clean. Thank God.

"You don't realize how chatty you get when you're about to orgasm." He says before stopping right outside your closed bedroom door.

"My roommate- she... decided last night that- well- she would really like her boyfriend to live here instead-"

"Without consulting you first?" He clarifies, staring blankly ahead at the door, listening very attentively.

"Y-Yes without consulting me." You bring your hand to the doorknob, on your way to open it but he stops you with an iron grip around your wrist. You wince.

“Continue talking.” He says and you do.

"This morning they both kinda sprung on me that they'd like to be living here now. She went behind my back and already placed the deposit down our landlord, well," you clear your throat. "I might be homeless soon." You laugh but then swallow very thickly as the gravity of the situation falls onto your shoulders.

"And still you decided to have our sessions today?"

"If you'll have me," you nod.

"Remarkable." He replies. "Well I've never been very fond of my things or my toys getting dirty." He begins mysteriously as he places his hand directly over yours on the doorknob.

"Pardon?"

"I can't have my favorite toy living out on the street. Who knows what kind of animals would try to rape you or drug you or fucking stick their slimey dicks inside you-" he turns the doorknob, clicking your room open.

You're not even sure when this started happening. These 'private sessions' with your Salesman that quickly bled into something much more concerning. Before you knew it, he was seeping into your brain, polluting you with obsession. There had never ever been anyone else involved.

"What the hell did you do?" You ask, slowly entering your room to find two chairs placed directly in front of your bed. As soon as you enter, you hear the blood curdling, muffled screams being ripped from the throat of the two people strapped to those chairs.

"I'm protecting my investment," Says your Salesman as he pushes the door closed behind you.

Your feet feel like lead as you watch them and their panic-stricken eyes. There in front of you, they sit opposite one another, both with a haggard countenance and tears streaming down their cheeks.

At the sight of you, your roommate screams something horrid but it's muffled by the gag placed in her mouth, a gag the shape of a dog bone.

He's there too. The boyfriend. He's not as loud or as frantic as she is but he's significantly startled. His eyes are wild and vacant. The same gag.

"Oh my god-" you begin but he cuts in front of you, making his way to the couple seated across from each other.

"We're all gonna play a game- a quick one," He says, "Can't play for too long because I've been dying to get inside you since I saw those pretty little bloodshot eyes."

"Sir- I"

If you knew his name you might've screamed it in this moment. 'Sir' is your only point of reference to address the manic man in front of you.

This isn't right.

Right?

You're so confused, you barely register than you've thought out loud. It hits you as he slowly shrugs his blazer off.

"What isn't right is them thinking they can rape this apartment from underneath you." He says, folding it and placing it meticulously over your desk.

"I- have neighbors!?" You begin but he has a plan for that too.

"I had your room soundproofed since our first session." You're pushed into even more confusion.

"WHAT!? When did you even-"

"While you were at school-" he says before uncovering a handgun from his briefcase. A handgun and a silencer.

"Point is, Doll, I'm going to need you to play a game for me, ok?"

"DOLL!?" Comes your roommates' mortified and muffled cries.

"I need you to make one tiny decision for me." He says, screwing on the silencer onto the barrel of the revolver. It strikes you then that even when the mask is off, and the worst workings of his personality are on display for all to gaze upon, you still find him breathtakingly attractive.

"If-" tears burn the back of your throat, "If this room is soundproof why-why do you need a silencer?"

"I'm nothing if not a cautious man, you know this." Then his expression turns very grave and very dark as he says. "Don't you?"

“Yes, Sir,” you reply almost automatically. Like your need to respond to him- to please him, greatly overpowered your moral compass. “You're extremely cautious.”

Your roommate releases a shrill noise from the very back of her throat, her eyes pleading with the humanity she desperately tries to find in yours.

“Out of these two, he's my least favourite,” Your Salesman says, standing beside you. Eyes wild as he points his gun to the boyfriend's head.

“But this isn't about me,” he turns to face you, slowly dragging you gaze away from the victims that had once been your tormentors. You look up at him with a broken sob slipping through your lips. “I need you to choose.”

There it is.

His words seem to detonate what little fate you had in his humanity. There is nothing in his eyes except hedonism and violence.

"I'm going to have you to choose very quickly, baby-”

You're already shaking your head as frazzled braids tickle your shoulders. Your eyes find theirs and you immediately say, “I'm not going to do it.”

When you look at him again, you're almost horrified to find the smile that had once been on his face, completely wiped away. His face is a shadow and it strikes you way more than anything ever has. Something in you scolds you. It gnaws at you to make things right.

“Don't do that.” He says darkly. “Don't disappoint me.”

His hands -one still holding a gun- moves to cup both your cheeks. He cranes your neck further back, gazing deeply. “I can't have you living on the street.”

“You don't have to kill anyone-”

His jaw ticks, “Pick.”

“Sir…”

“You're disappointing me.”

All it takes is those three words to have your world crashing to the floor. Tears blur your vision as you raise a trembling finger.

“Him. I pick him.”

It's the first time you realized that you were brimming with codependency

Or stupidity.

Or maybe both

“That's a good girl.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The father you never had.

He lets his eyes meet that of the boyfriend who is shaking and writhing in seat.

“What a good fucking girl I have, wouldn't you agree?” He asks the boyfriend yet he only cries and cries and cries. Meanwhile, you're bathing in the warm, milky words of praise.

"I suppose you wouldn't be able to agree to much in a second-"

He raises the gun.

Wait-" but the trigger is already pulled, and the bullet slices through the air and the deed is done.

It's remarkable how fast it travels. The speed of the bullet. Like it's competing with light itself. One moment his head is there and his brain is inside it, functioning like usual and the next moment, it's splattered all across my bedroom wall, coating your stuffed animals and drenching your pink bedding.

“You killed someone…”

“We killed someone, and you did such a good job. Now we're real rich people-”

You shake your head.

“Oh my fucking god we killed someone-”

It's stupid, but the first thought that comes to mind is-

“How- How am I gonna get the stain out!?”

“I'll get you new sheets, Doll, I promise…”

Meanwhile the roommate is crying and screaming her throat hoarse. You watch gravely as vomit soaks her gag.

“That's fucking disgusting.” He says before turning back to you. A spray of blood scatters across the side of his handsome face. He'd just committed murder and yet you still describe him as handsome.

“You're not disgusting at all.” He says, “You're so clean and beautiful.” His large hands rub over your face. “And now this apartment's yours. Ours. Maybe.”

Ours.

That word somehow affects you more than the murder you'd just lay witness to. It has you staring up at him with grateful, love-filled eyes. You're still scared but, you were his. And that was a powerful feeling. You'd never belonged to anyone before. Certainly not any man as handsome or smart as this. This isn't rose-tinted glasses anymore, it's rose-tinted vision.

“We killed someone.” You say. Solidifying the fact that you were a couple.

Your heart rages in its cage when his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck yes we did,” he moans before smashing his lips down onto yours. Confusion and discomfort wage a terrific and bloody war inside you as he kisses you absolutely dizzy. Your insides are swirling and your stomach is turning at the sight of the blood drenching your walls.

he tips your head up, forcing his tongue in and he moans when you let him. Your tongues touch and coax and he pulls you in close.

“You know how good you looked when I picked you up earlier, Doll? I loved seeing those bloodshot eyes of yours.” He mumbles, “I just hated not being the one to make you cry.”

You sob something awful. The sound escapes you while your lips are still plastered to his.

“But this is all me,” he says proudly, gazing down at your watery eyes as he pins you up against the wall. “This is all me.”

Your roommate sits in a daze. Over his wide shoulder, her eyes stare blankly into yours and you almost find yourself mouthing the words 'I'm sorry'.

Almost. But you never do.

Your brain is too clouded by feelings of fear, regret, pleasure and… satisfaction. In your defense her boyfriend really fucking sucked.

"Take this off." He groans, lowering his large build to the floor to shove your shorts and underwear down. Undressing you almost formally as he lifts your one leg out followed by the other.

Your eyes are still on her.

Every vile word she's said to you. Every occasion she'd bring her equally cruel friends over and they'd gossip about you loud enough for their words to carry through the walls.

You realize very gravely that your care is waning.

That humanity that was still left inside you is thinning.

And he's pressing wet kisses against your legs, worshipping the soft cellulite at your thighs.

A man in a suit at his knees for you and she's forced to watch.

It makes you feel so-

"Fucking beautiful, fuck." He groans.

The more riled up he is, the less care he gives to how crass his language becomes. As if trapped in a daze, with your eyes still on your tormentor -your bully- you hook your fingers into his hair. Parting your legs you lead his mouth to your exposed cunt and he slurps you up for all your worth.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he eats you out with vigor. He flattens his tongue and suctions his mouth against your clit, causing a deep and guttural moan to spill from your lips.

He pulls back, breathing raggedly, "Fuck my face," he commands, before placing both hands on your ass, enough to have your cunt riding his open mouth. It feels so fucking good your eyes are stinging with tears. You let them fall because you'd know he'd appreciate it. He appreciates every tear in your confidence. Every waver in your air-tight judgement. It undoes him completely to see you so fucking pathetic.

He looks up at you while you're riding him. Those morally black eyes are urging you to hump his face and you do.

At the sight of your tears falling his nails dig into your ass and you moan more. All the sounds you're able to make are in intelligible sounds of pleasure. But you force yourself to come to your senses. Just long enough to whisper

"Th-Thank you, Sir,"

He stills. Completely stunned.

You come. It crashes down on you all while your roommate tries to squeeze her crying eyes shut, shaking her head as if trying to delude herself into believing none of this is real.

"You are fucking fire, you know that?" He croaks, slowly rising. You're breathing oh so quickly and it only speeds up at the sight of your arousal casting his jaw.

“I wanna fucking hurt you so bad. I wanna eat you. I wanna fuck you. I wanna do so many unspeakable things to you- you're so perfect.”

He throws one more gaze over his shoulder. His almond eyes scan over the body, then the girl and he groans, furiously undoing his belt.

"How the fuck did I get so lucky?” he says, almost to himself.

"Answer me." He presses his body firmly against yours, until your spine is straight against the wall. "Fucking answer me when I talk to you."

He growls before bringing a hand up to your chin. It's painful the way he grabs you, but you're so used to pain. It lives here now. Between you both.

"I-I- don't know-" you really don't know and he melts at that.

"I'll tell you how, Princess. " he wraps your leg around his waist, "People like me- people we call crazy and evil-” His eyes are so wide, his smile too. -we get nice things. And people like that-" he quirks his head backwards, “The weak? Those people on the streets, they die.” He says, grinding his cock agaisnt your cunt, “And we don't die, yeah?"

"Oh fuck." You're seeing stars when his cock sinks into your cunt. It's hard and raging and he's already doing multiple shallow thrusts to force it deeper. "S-So big-" you can't talk, you hardly ever can when he's like this. Fucking you into an absolute frenzy.

"You gonna squirt for me, Doll?” he grits his teeth, hips stuttering as he ravages you against the wall. "F-Fuck." Some

“She's a really good squirter-” he turns his head to watch your roommate over his shoulder. Her head is slumped forward, she's fainted perhaps.

After weeks of trying to impress him, to show him that you were not the weak little thing he had first kidnapped- you realize it's paid off. He caveman grunts as he fucks you deeper and harder and a cry rips itself from your throat.

“Y-You want me?” You ask with trembling lips.

“Baby,” he breathes directly into your mouth. “I need you.”

"F-Fuck-" your orgasm sneaks up on you and he watches with immense gratification as you come undone on his cock.

“You're making a mess on my cock-” clear liquid streams out of hou, threatinging tk lush his cock out but he fucks you through it.

“Gonna fucking cum inside you, baby. You're gonna take it, aren't you? My good girl's gonna fucking take it,” he throws his head back as his eyes flutter closed and soon he's fucking spurts of warm cum into you.

It fills you completely until the mess is coating your thighs. Through your wave of endless euphoria you see stars, the planets and him in the very centre of it all, guiding you and coaxing you through the bountiful high.

Even when he's done, his cock is still nestled deep inside you, pushing you over the brink of stimulation.

"You're very promising.” He admits, “Always have been.”

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bjdmn2man · 1 year ago

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smbomcom · 1 year ago

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thetejasamale · 2 years ago

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marketreserachtreands · 2 years ago

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elalfywhore · 3 months ago

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partition • pazzi x reader

tonight was all about paige, as much as you loved to be the center of attention; you had to let her have her night.

azzi had already talked to you about this earlier in the day while she was getting glammed up, asking you for no fits, no snarky comments and no bratty behavior. the night went amazing; the draft had ended hours ago, team dinner was done and now the club was coming to an end.

it was about 4am when you checked your phone, you were sitting on paige’s right leg and azzi on her left; the three of you wearing dallas wings hats as paige felt up both of your thighs. you guys had spent the last 4 hours dancing and drinking the night away with your friends but now, your feet are killing you and you want nothing more than a street hot dog and your bed.

paige however; looks just as alive as she did when they called her name as she bites her lip, admiring yours and azzis bodies in your dresses. while your guys’ relationship was a secret the section at the club was private; you were pretty sure the bottle girls had to sign some kind of nda to work here tonight.

“you tired, baby?” paige asks, making you glance up from your phone. she must’ve noticed how your energy had plummeted in the last 30 minutes. “no, i’m okay.” you smile, assuming she’d want to stay out and continue to finish her time. “are you sure? you look tired?” azzi asks, making you shrug this time. “c’mon, let’s get going im ready to go anyway.” paige says, patting you and azzi both on your butts; signaling to get up.

you all get up and grab your belongings, saying your goodbyes and making the long journey to the car.

“that was so fun, im so proud of you.” azzi says, smiling to paige as you walk about a foot ahead of them but in the middle. “thank you, babe. couldn’t have done it without you two.” paige smiles, reaching to pinch your cheek; making you giggle and speed up your walk a bit.

once you guys get to the car you remembered what you had forgotten in your drunken state; the dallas wings sent paige a limo for the night, assuming she’d be riding with all her friends but it was just the three of you in reality. “i forgot about this” you blurt out, face a perplexed. “did you?” azzi giggles, letting her hand come to graze your hips. you hear the car door open and watch as the male driver gets out the car, coming around to open the door for the three of you.

“good evening, i hope you had a great time, miss buckers.” he greets politely, gesturing for us to enter the door. “i did, thanks man.” paige smiles, grabbing your hand guiding you into the back of the limo. once your sat inside you look at the exterior as she helps azzi in. it’s spacious, the couch wrapping all around the back in a U shape, it’s all white with an led rim that’s shaded to a light purple. there’s a small table in the middle, bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne, a few glasses set on the table.

you throw you head back, thinking it’s time to relax but as the car door shuts and paige finds herself comfortable between you and azzi; you realize it’s a different time. “hope you’re not sleepy yet, mama. we still got 30 minutes until we’re back to the hotel.” paige licks her lip before biting it, grabbing you by the back of the neck; leaning to plant kisses on your lips. you moan into the kisses as paige’s hand goes up your thigh, hiking up your dress. “drove me crazy in this little fucking dress tonight.” your eyes roll back after paige says that, planting one more kiss to your lips before biting your bottle lip; pulling her head back slowly before letting your lip go.

you sit up, now fully awake and watch her shift to azzi a bit. “and you looked so fucking sexy tonight.” paige pulls azzi into a kiss, pulling her dress up and allowing herself to massage the soft skin of her thigh. you almost moan at the sight of time making out. shifting in your seat, you burry your face into paige’s neck, sucking at the skin as your hand makes its way into her top, letting your fingers graze her nipple. paige and azzis kiss breaks after a bit and azzi also gets to work, sucking on paige’s neck and really just trying to feel whenever she can.

paige is a moaning mess, heavy breathing and eyes rolling back. something tells paige’s to open eyes and when she does she realizes; the partition was down. she’s too drunk off of you guys to ever care to much yet she still calls out, “driver roll up the partition, please and turn on some music.” you and azzi don’t pay much mind, both of you now basically grinding down on the seat, trying to get any kind of relief.

the car is soon filled with the sound of luther by kendrick lamar and sza.

“god, i love you two so much.” paige moans, neck now filled with hickeys but she doesn’t even mind. you and azzi murmur out your love yous back and her hands come to the back of each of your heads, pulling you two off her neck. paige bites her lip as she watches your and azzis eyes interlock; mischief in your eyes. “hi, baby.” azzi whispers, face moving towards yours. “hi, az.” you whisper back shyly. your lips soon interlock, tongues grazing each others. you feel azzi move, trying to get more comfortable, getting on her hands and knees on the seat; making you follow, your ankles crossing as you arch your back.

“so unreal.” paige whispers, biting her lip and you gasp when you feel her hike up your dress, putting your ass on display and revealing your black thong. she gives you ass a few smacks before moving to azzi, lifting her dress up as well and smacking her ass a few times; making her moan into the kiss. your guys’ hands all over and in between paiges lap as she manspreads, one of each of her hands come to grab at yours’ and azzis asses; leaning back to admire the view of her girlfriends kissing in front of her.

you and azzi moan into the kiss loudly at the same time, both feeling a single one of paige’s fingers slip inside of you with no warning. azzi’s hand comes up; tightly grabbing onto your hair as paige starts to finger fuck the both of you. “look at my dirty girls.” paige teases, now slipping in a second finger in both of you. “do my girls like that?” paige’s forward, making you and azzi pull apart; moans spilling out of the both of you as paige continues her assault on your pussies. “feels so good, daddy.” you whine, leaning forward to give paige a few pecks on the lip. “feel good, mama?” paige asks azzi, who’s clearly trying not to cum so soon. “feels so good, fuck.” azzi moans are so soft, the type that make you feel like you can float on them.

as paige and azzi kiss you see a golden opportunity, immediately reaching to unzip paige’s pants. paige moans into the kiss, lifting her hips up to help you pull her pants and boxers down. you moan at the sight, your girlfriends kissing, azzi bent over facing you but you can still see the round of her ass and paige’s hand sneaking around her, paige’s pants now down at her knees; pretty pink pussy on display; all three of you still in your dallas wings hats. azzi pulls back from the kiss, looking down to admire paige’s wet cunt, glistening in the light purple lighting.

you’re the first one to touch, allowing your middle fingers to connect with her clit, wet and sticky; rubbing soft circles on it. paige bites her lip, looking down to watch you play with her; fingers still fucking you and azzi. it doesn’t take long for azzi to join in, sticking her pointer and middle fingers inside of paige, fucking her with the same sensual speed that paige is fucking you two at. you’re all moaning messes, shoving your face back inside of paige’s neck, licking and sucking all over as you feel your orgasm approach.

“think…think m’ gonna cum, daddy.” you whimper, warning paige. “yeah? did you ask if that was okay?” paige whispers back, a bit scarily to you; realizing you’d probably have to cum on whatever condition paige wanted. “can i cum, please daddy?” you pull your face from her neck, letting her see your pouty little face. “ask azzi, baby.” you look to azzi, who’s eyes are screwed shut and you can tell, she needs to cum too. “mommy, can i please cum.” you whine out, getting impatient, your hips now trying to jut away from paige a bit. “i’m gonna cum too baby, c’mon, cum with mommy.” azzi moans; pulling you into a kiss.

your tongues swirl as your orgasms hit, your movements on paige halting for a moment but she doesn’t mind, just happy to see you guys playing so nicely. paige helps you both ride out your highs, enjoying the feeling of your warm, wet holes pulsating around her. “good girls.” paige groans, pulling her fingers from both of you. you bite your lip, seeing how wet her fingers are from azzi as she brings them up to your mouth, “open up, baby.” she moans as azzis fingers start to move inside her again. you open your mouth, letting paige’s fingers inside; savoring the sweet taste of azzi, sucking on her fingers like a long popsicle. once her fingers are all clean paige brings her fingers that were inside of you to azzis mouth, she opens without needing to be told; immediately moaning at the taste.

you start to rub circles again, making paige moan out; now being stimulated by you and azzi. azzi releases paiges fingers with a pop. “so good for me.” paige groans, leaning back in the seat again; her hands going to untie the top of your dress, helping pull it down to your hips, letting your tits free. she immediately does the same to azzi, pulling down the straps of her dress to release her boobs. her hands come under both of you, reaching to play with both of your boobs, jiggling the fat in her hands.

“you gonna eat my pussy for me, baby?” paige asks you making you bite your lip with a nod; making you pull your hand away from her clit. azzi pulls her hand away as well and they watch and you get off the seat, it feeling good to get into a new position and onto your knees in between paige’s legs. you pull her pants down to her ankles and she spreads her legs wider, giving you easier access. azzi uses her left hand, helping guide your head towards paige’s pussy. you almost moan the feeling of the warmth radiating off of her pussy as your face gets close. the first taste is like heaven as you immediately take her clit into your mouth, sucking at the bud.

“holy shit.” paige groans, helping azzi readjust to sit perked up on her knees; her tits at perfect eye level with paige. you moan at the taste of paige and the view above you, azzis silk press becoming a bit frizzy with sweat but she still looks beautiful as ever; moaning out as paige takes her nipple into her mouth. paige’s arm wraps around azzis lower back, pulling her closer to her and the other hand goes to play with azzis other nipple. azzi throws her head back, her hand still pressing your face into paige’s pussy.

paige’s pussy tastes sweeter than normal, you’re not sure if it’s maybe the cherry liquor you’re still tasting on your lips, azzi’s vanilla lipgloss or maybe the fact that she just won first round pick in the draft but whatever it is; it’s making you weak in the knees. you nod your head in her pussy, eyes rolling back as you lick up her clit with the minimal movement your allowed with azzis hand. azzi looks down to check on you, noticing how fucking submissive you look she can’t help but to pull you back by your hair and lean down; making paige release her nipple for a second, she grabs you by the cheeks, squeezing with her other hand, “open wide, baby.” her voice is so alluring you do as she says, your mouth soaked with paige’s wetness and now her saliva as she spits in your mouth.

you swallow like a good girl of course, gasping for a breath before azzi shoves your face back into paige’s pussy. paige leans forward a bit, one of her hands grabbing at your dress that had bunched up at your waist and the other coming down to spank your ass. “good fucking girl, how did i get so lucky?” paige praises, leaning back again after delivering a few more smacks to your fat ass. “im gonna bust.” paige groans out making you lick her pussy faster. her hand also comes to grab a bunch of your hair, joining azzis. “c’mon, princess make daddy cum.” azzi moans, biting her lip at the sight of you two.

it doesn’t take many more licks and nods of your head before you feel and taste paige spilling down your chin, “fucking shit, baby.” paige groans hips bucking into your face as her and azzi hold your head still.

you gasp for air when they finally let you go, leaning your back against the seat as paige lays there limp for a second, azzi pressing soft kisses to her neck. “you did, so damn good baby.” paige praises, her hand coming down to reach for you; helping you back onto the seat.

you guys hear the music turn down and the partition cracks just a bit, “we’ll be at the hotel in 5.” the driver calls out, rolling the partition back up and turning the music back up. “fuck, let’s fix ourselves.” azzi says, starting to pull the top of her dress back up. you watch as paige starts to pull her pants back up, pouting as azzi puts her tits away and paige covers her pussy. “don’t worry, baby. i got something waiting for you at the hotel.” paige smiles, noticing your pouty face and knowing you’d want to go again. “really?” you beam, making azzi giggle as you start to fix yourself. you turn away from paige and azzi, just trying to figure out which way is which on your dress. “something real good.” paige comes behind you, one knee on the seat as she grabs onto your shoulders, starting to thrust her hips into your ass. you gasp out in excitement, “you brought the strap!” making azzi scoff, “actually i brought it, paige forgot to pack it.”

you crouch a bit in the limo, almost being at your girlfriends’ heights in your 6 inch heels. paige let’s you go, as you grab onto azzi; your dress still not fixed, ass and tits still out as you straddle her lap. “thank you, mommy.” you press a soft kiss to her lips, letting her taste paige who still lingered on your mouth. “you’re welcome, now let’s get you fixed.” azzis quick to squeeze your ass in both her hands for a second before pulling your dress down and fixing the top, re-ting what paige un did a while ago. “my pretty girls.” paige smiles, making you both look over at her, her phone in hand taking a picture to savor the moment.

the next morning hit like a hurricane, there were clothes and shoes all over the room, sex toys spread all over the bed and even some on the floor as you woke up in the middle of your girlfriends.

the sun was peaking through the curtains as you looked to see them still asleep, spotting your phone on the side of paige you reach softly for it.

3:39pm

your phone reads, you immediately feel a grumble in your tummy, turning to azzi to wake her up. “azzi, baby wake up.” you whisper making her groan, “please baby.” you whine. “what?” she grumbles, eyes not open yet. “i’m hungry.” you pout. “ask paige to order something.” she says, turning away; immediately falling back asleep.

you turn to your blonde girlfriend; realizing azzi was too sleepy to help. “paige, wake up.” you whisper, shaking her a bit and she opens her eyes immediately; stretching her long limbs. “what happened, babe?” her morning voice sending a jolt straight to your pussy that you decide to ignore. “i’m hungry.” you whine out, “here.” paige turns, grabbing her phone and handing it to you. “doordash something for us.” making you smile in victory. you turn away from paige, allowing her to spoon you, one of her hands going between your thighs, enjoying the warmth of it.

azzis turns back to face you, joining in on the cuddles, still probably half awake. you cuddle in the middle of them; keeping paige’s brightness on low as you place your guys’ order. sitting the phone between you and azzi; you relax, deciding it’s just best to sleep until your food gets here.

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iitslera · 1 month ago

Text

to the real space ✶ LN4

english isn’t my first language, just some Father’s Day fluff (kinda short)

── ✦ ──

Lando was in the kitchen, wearing a wrinkled white t-shirt and his hair slightly messy, flipping pancakes like he was in the middle of a qualifying session. He moved the pan with that driver precision he seemed to have for everything never losing focus, never making a mess, his movements swift and efficient, a sharp contrast to the slow, sleepy rhythm of the morning.

The smell of melted butter and sweet batter filled the apartment, and from the kitchen island, you watched him with your cheek resting on your hand, like every small gesture of his reminded you exactly why you’d fallen in love with him. Despite the travels, the races, the fast-paced life he had led for so long, Lando had become a safe place.

Ever since you came into his life along with the little whirlwind called Oliver Lando hadn’t hesitated for even a second to open the door to both of you. He wasn’t Oliver’s biological father, but no one would’ve ever guessed that.

He taught him how to ride a bike in the park behind the house, his hands shaking with emotion the first time Oliver pedaled on his own. He bought him ice cream after preschool even when you said it was too much sugar. He read him bedtime stories in pirate, astronaut, and dragon voices and when Oliver fell asleep on his chest, Lando kept holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“Landooo!” The little voice echoed down the hallway, loud and clear. “Lando, come play!”

Lando set the spatula aside and turned just in time to see Oliver running toward him. Barefoot, in dinosaur pajamas, and with his blond hair wild from the pillow. He had that perfect mix of energy and clumsiness that only a four-year-old could have: arms wide open, unsteady little steps, and a laugh that filled the entire apartment like music.

“Slow down, little one!” Lando laughed, crouching down to catch him with open arms. Oliver threw himself into his chest like he hadn’t seen him in weeks, even though it had only been a few hours since he’d fallen asleep next to him during a bedtime story about planets.

Lando scooped him up with ease, resting him on his hip, and Oliver immediately wrapped his little arms around his neck.

“I had a dream,” Oliver mumbled sleepily. “That we went to real space.”

Lando smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Well then, we better start building a rocket after breakfast, huh?”

From the kitchen island, you watched them in silence. Your heart full, your eyes misty. Because even if you’d never said it out loud, you knew Lando was the closest thing to home Oliver had ever known. And you, too.

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ice-man-goes-bwoah · 2 months ago

Note

So I just saw that you want an ask about plus size reader and f1 driver👀 I'm a Lando Norris fan so can I please ask about him? Maybe plus size reader is his physical therapist and looks after him and makes him happy and he in return is so down bad that if anyone says or does sth disrespectful he is so defensive he always has her back and he shows that he loves her every single minute ❤️ I really hope you have many plus size reader asks cause as a midsize girl myself I really don't see many fics to represent us

All the ways you look at me||Lando Norris x mid size reader

Summary —Y/N lands the job as Lando Norris’s physical therapist, neither of them expects much beyond rehab sessions and recovery plans. But as shared glances turn into inside jokes and late-night conversations, a quiet friendship begins to blossom—one that tiptoes into something deeper to bad they are scared to take the fall into something more than friendship.

Word count—8k

Thank you @fuckoffbard for reading this for me!

A/n—depending on how well this does I’ll do a part two

"Come on. You can do this. It’s your first day meeting everyone; you’ve had plenty of first days, so this should be easy,” Y/n said to herself. She sat in the parking lot of the McLaren Technology Centre, where she was to meet her new team. Taking a deep breath, she let it out and opened her eyes. “Okay, I’m ready.” She opened the door to her car, stepped out, grabbed her iced coffee, badge, and bag, and walked to the building.

The scenery was beautiful. The McLaren Technology Center was secluded from the rest of civilization in a big field hidden behind trees. There were two buildings: the factory itself and the headquarters. That's where she was going.

Walking up the pathway, she admired the bean-shaped building with the little pond that was next to it. It was definitely something she could get used to seeing on a daily basis. Once she was up to the door, she took out her badge and put it up to the scanner to open the door. As the door opened, she was welcomed by the nice, cool air and the beautiful interior of the building.

The lobby was filled with F1 cars and cars that McLaren had produced over the years. To the right of her was the staircase and the elevator that led to the second floor, and in front of her were the trophy cases that held all the trophies that the team had won over the years. The building was truly beautiful with its simple and futuristic design.

“Can I help you?” A voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Yes, hi, I’m Y/n, I’m the new physical therapist. I’m here for the team meeting. I'm supposed to meet everyone.”

The owner of the voice shook her hand and spoke softly but friendly, “Hello y/n, I’m Sarah, I’m part of the social media team. I’m heading that way so I can help you get there.” Sarah said, shaking Y/n's hand.

“Oh, that would be lovely, thank you,” Y/n replied with a smile.

Sarah led Y/N through a maze of corridors and open workspaces, the hum of quiet conversations and the occasional keyboard tapping following them as they walked.

“This place is like a spaceship,” Y/n murmured as she looked around.

Sarah laughed. “Right? Wait until you see the simulator room. Total sci-fi vibes.”

They stopped outside a wide conference room with frosted glass panels through the translucent windows. She could see shadows shifting and hear a few muffled voices from inside.

“You’ll be great.” Sarah said, giving her a small nudge, “Come on.”

Y/N took one last calming breath and stepped inside.

The room was already half full—engineers, mechanics, PR staff. A few people turned to glance at her as she entered, their expressions curious but friendly. At the far end of the table, there were two guys, one was balancing his chair on its two back legs while trying and failing to balance his pencil on his nose. The other one had an unimpressed look on his face while trying not to smile or laugh at the other’s antics.

Y/N immediately knew who they were—Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri. Even without the uniforms and team gear, their energy gave them away.

She took a moment to observe them from where she stood, unnoticed for now. Lando had that easy, magnetic kind of charm—the type that could dissolve tension with a grin and a well-timed joke. He moved with confidence, expressive hands, and animated eyes, clearly the kind of person who filled a room without even trying.

Next to him, Oscar was a striking contrast. He was quieter, his posture more composed, his words more measured. While Lando spoke with his whole body, Oscar listened with stillness. His eyes were sharp and observing, like he was always a few steps ahead in his head, even when he didn’t say much.

They worked like a natural counterbalance. Lando brought the lightness, Oscar the grounding. It was a rhythm—one teased, the other gave dry comebacks; one stirred things up, and the other reined them in without needing to say much. And somehow, it worked.

“They’re like opposites, but at the same time, they work so well together.” Y/N thought, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Suddenly, she felt a little less nervous. Because despite their differences, there was something oddly comforting about the way they fit together. Like maybe this place wasn’t going to be so intimidating after all.

Especially if Lando kept looking at her the way he just did.

His head tilted slightly like he was trying to place her. His eyes flicked from her face to the badge clipped to her shirt and back up again. Then he smiled—lazy, crooked, and so bright it made her stomach flip.

“You must be the new Physio,” he said, “I was starting to think they were making you up.”

Y/n blinked slightly, off guard by the friendliest tone of his voice.

“Nope, very real. I even brought an iced coffee and everything.” She joked, holding up her iced coffee and giving it a little shake.

A few people chuckled, the tension easing, and Lando's smile widened.

“Then we’re going to get along just fine.”

Zak Brown stood and clapped his hands for attention.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s officially joining us this season as part of the performance and health team—working closely with you, Lando.”

“Lucky me,” Lando muttered with a grin.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’ll see how lucky you feel after your first deep tissue session.”

More laughter followed, and a few people around the table gave her nods of approval or polite greetings. Someone even muttered, “Bold move on day one,” with a grin.

As the meeting began and the briefing started, Lando leaned slightly toward her seat, voice low so only she could hear.

“Seriously, though. Welcome. We’re glad to have you.”

She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes.

“Thanks. I’m glad to be here.”

But her heart was racing. Because while she came here expecting professionalism and a great work performance, she hadn’t expected him.

Over the course of the few months that Y/N joined McLaren, she really had made her mark on the team. She and Sarah are quickly becoming friends, the two of you often meeting up for coffee dates and other things that friends do.

Y/N’s office doubled as her Physio room, in the corner was her desk with her laptop and a couple of other personal items that made the space truly hers. On the other side of the room was a table where the mats, foam roller, and other supplies sat, and in the center was the padded table.

Y/n was reviewing Landos' training notes Landos's trainer sent to her tablet when the door creaked open.

“Morning,” came that familiar voice—soft, a little smug, a little sleepy.

She glanced up. “You’re late.”

Lando strolled in like he wasn’t, tossing his water bottle on the bench. “You’re early.”

Y/N raised a brow unimpressed “Try that again but imagine that I haven’t heard it from every cocky athlete I’ve worked with.”

He grinned, “touché”

She nodded towards the mat, “Shoes off, warm-up stretches, let’s go.”

He obeyed, stretching his arms overhead and settling onto the mat with an exaggerated groan. “You’re scarier than my last physio.”

“That’s because your last physio didn’t have to deal with you constantly flirting with him.”

“True. He didn’t look this good, either.” Lando remarked, admiring Y/N’s curves.

God, he would give anything just to hold her—to let his hands rest on her hips, fingers curling around the softness he admired far more than he probably should. She was all curves and comfort and warmth, and it was unfair how often his mind drifted to her when he was supposed to be focused.

He swore she was made for him. It just made sense. His hands were big—meant to anchor, to hold, to fit—and when he looked at her, he couldn’t help but imagine how perfectly she’d settle against him.

His thoughts flicked back to three months ago when they’d trained together outside under the sun. She’d worn those leggings—the ones that clung just right, hugging the shape of her legs, her thighs, her hips. He remembered watching her move, muscles working under soft curves, grace and power woven together. He hadn’t meant to stare. But he did.

And the worst part?

He still remembered how she’d smiled at him afterward. She didn’t even realize the way she knocked the air out of his lungs.

Y/n didn’t even blink when she turned to face him. “Flirting won’t save you from the foam rollers.”

“Damn.” He gave her a mock-wounded look. “You are immune.”

Truthfully, she wasn’t. Not even close. But she had a job to do.

Y/N crouched beside him, guiding his leg into position. “How’s the left quad feeling?”

He shifted slightly. “Tight. Not awful, though.”

“Alright. Let me know if anything feels off.”

Her hands moved to his thigh, fingers firm but practiced as she applied pressure, feeling for tension. He stilled a little under her touch, his gaze flickering down to her.

“Are you always this focused?” he asked quietly.

Her brows lifted. “Are you always this chatty during treatment?”

“Only when I’m trying not to think about your hands being on my leg.”

That earned him a warning look, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “Behave.”

He smiled—but it was softer this time. Not smug. Not cocky. Just…warm.

For a moment, silence settled between them, the only sound the quiet hum of the AC and the shuffle of movement. She moved around him to adjust his arm, her fingers brushing his skin.

He looked up at her. “You’re good at this.”

She paused. “Thanks. It means a lot. Especially from someone who can’t sit still for longer than a minute.”

He chuckled. “I sit still for you.”

That stopped her. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and something in his expression made her chest tighten. It wasn’t teasing. It was sincere.

Dangerous, that kind of sincerity.

Y/N cleared her throat and stepped back slightly. “Alright. Upon the table. Let’s check that shoulder mobility.”

Lando obeyed with a faint smirk. “Yes, boss.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks felt warm.

And he noticed. Of course, he noticed. He’d always noticed.

Truth is, Lando loved the way her face flushed, and then she bit her bottom lip trying not to give him the satisfaction that he made her feel this way, she was never successful.

And he found it adorable.

Y/N stepped around the table to check the alignment of Lando’s shoulders, her fingertips pressing lightly along his upper back. “Drop your right shoulder just a bit,” she murmured.

He obeyed, head tilted slightly toward her. “You know, you’re very serious when you’re in work mode.”

“That’s because I am working,” she replied, eyes flicking up toward him.

“Yeah, but like—intensely serious. Like mission control, seriously. I bet you’d threaten to take someone’s kneecaps if they did a stretch wrong.”

She snorted. “I’ve never threatened kneecaps. Hamstrings, though? Fair game.”

Lando grinned at that, leaning back slightly on his elbows, watching her as she made a few notes on her tablet. “You must be fun at parties.”

“I’m a riot,” she said dryly, glancing up. “But only if someone needs help foam rolling their Iliotibial band.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It was.”

He laughed, and for a moment it felt easy—normal. The line between physio and friend blurred slightly in the warmth of their shared amusement.

Y/N set the tablet down and nodded toward the floor again. “Back to the mat. Let’s work on hip mobility.”

He groaned but complied, flopping onto his back dramatically. “You just like bossing me around.”

“It’s not that I like it,” she said, kneeling beside him, “It’s that you’d be hopeless without me.”

He blinked up at her with mock offense. “Hopeless? Excuse me—I am an elite athlete.”

“Who forgot how to do a proper glute bridge three weeks ago?”

“That was one time.”

“Twice.”

Lando gave her an exaggerated glare, then pointed at her. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Oh?” she teased, adjusting his knee with a light touch. “Is that why you’re being so dramatic this morning?”

“No, that’s just who I am.” He gave her a soft grin. “But seriously—I do like working with you. You’re not like the others.”

Y/N paused, hands still on his leg. “Is that a compliment or a red flag?”

“A compliment,” he said, softer this time. “Most people treat me like a brand. You treat me like… I don’t know. A human.”

For a beat, their eyes met again. It wasn’t flirtatious-not-not-not-not-not-not—not really. Just honest.

“I guess I figure you already have enough people telling you what you want to hear,” she said quietly.

His smile widened a little, less cocky now. “You’d tell me if I sucked at something, huh?”

“Absolutely. No hesitation.”

“See?” He gestured vaguely. “Hopeless without you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. She pressed gently on his hip, making him flinch.

“Hey! Abuse!”

“Mobility,” she corrected.

“You enjoy this way too much.”

“Only when you whine.”

He grinned up at her again, and for a second, something warm settled between them. It was subtle. Easy. The beginning of something unspoken.

Once the session was over, Lando dropped onto the bench near the corner of Y/N’s office, sweat dampening the edges of his curls as he reached for his water bottle. Y/N tossed him a clean towel from a nearby shelf.

“Here,” she said, settling onto the floor across from him with her bottle. “Try not to collapse dramatically on my floor next time. I might not be so kind.”

He caught the towel with a grin. “You love it. Gives you an excuse to roll your eyes at me.”

She took a long sip of her water. “You give me plenty of those without nearly fainting mid-stretch.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Okay, that was one time.”

“Twice, actually, and you faked it. Both times,” she replied with a smirk.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

He pointed at her, mock offended. “You and Oscar are going to start a club at this rate.”

“‘The Times Lando Was Wrong’ club? I think there’s already a group chat.”

Lando laughed, head tipping back slightly. “God, you do fit in here.”

She blinked at him, surprised by the softness in his voice.

“I mean it,” he added, more quietly now. “The team likes you. It’s been…lighter since you showed up.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly. “Lighter?”

“Yeah. You bring this kind of energy—like, calm but still sharp, you know? It’s a good balance.”

She wasn’t used to compliments like that, especially not ones that sounded so genuine.

“Well,” she said after a beat, “someone’s got to balance your chaos.”

He smiled at that. “You calling me chaotic?”

“I’m calling you exhausting.”

He laughed again, eyes crinkling. “You’re mean.”

“Only to the ones I like.”

He looked at her for a moment—looked. And for once, he didn’t shoot back a flirty line or a joke. Just smiled.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply.

Her breath caught. But then she smiled too, soft and a little surprised.

“Me too.”

They sat in the quiet for a few seconds longer, sipping water, the faint hum of the building in the background. Outside the window, the sun was high, casting soft shadows on the floor.

“I’ll probably regret saying this,” Lando said after a moment, “but you can drag me through those stretches again next time if you want.”

“Oh, I will,” she promised.

“God help me,” he muttered, shaking his head—but he was still smiling.

A few days later, Y/N and Sarah sat at an outdoor café nestled on a quiet street in Woking, the warm spring air wrapping around them like a soft sweater. The table was cluttered with two half-drunk iced coffees, a slice of cake they were sharing, and the occasional gust of wind that kept threatening to blow Sarah’s napkin off the table.

“I swear,” Sarah said between bites, “if we keep meeting here, the barista is going to start calling us regulars.”

Y/N grinned, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. “We already are. The barista knows our order.I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“God, you’re right. That’s dangerous.” Sarah paused to sip her coffee, then gave Y/N a look over the rim of her cup. “Speaking of danger…”

Y/N raised a brow. “What is it?”

“Look who’s here.”

Y/N turned her head—and sure enough, Lando was walking across the street, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, curls a little messy, sunglasses perched on his head. He hadn’t spotted them yet, distracted by something on his phone.

Sarah leaned closer, conspiratorial. “He looks relaxed. Like really relaxed. Must be your influence.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. “Stop.”

“I’m serious! I’ve worked with him for years, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this chill during a season. You’re good for him. He listens to you.”

Y/N snorted. “That’s because I threaten him with foam rollers and ice baths.”

Sarah laughed. “Maybe, but it works. You’re a good team, you know?”

Before Y/N could respond, Lando looked up and spotted them.

A wide grin immediately spread across his face, and he jogged the last few steps over to their table.

“Well, well, well,” he greeted, dropping into the empty chair beside Y/N without asking. “Didn’t expect to see you two here. Or should I say, the office dream team?”

Sarah raised her brows. “Crashing girl time? Bold move.”

He shot her a cheeky grin. “What can I say? I live on the edge.”

Y/N nudged his leg with her foot under the table. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Canceling all plans immediately,” he said, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. “Unless you’re kicking me out.”

Y/N bit back a smile, and Sarah just gave her a look—the kind that said this is exactly what I meant.

They chatted for a while, laughter threading easily through the conversation. Lando didn’t even seem to notice how comfortable he looked, slouched in his chair, legs stretched out, occasionally stealing bites of their cake. It felt natural. Uncomplicated.

And when Y/N caught Sarah looking at her with a knowing smirk, she just shook her head with a laugh and looked away.

Late nights had become something of a routine for them now. It started with playful iMessage games—8 Ball, Cup Pong, Darts. A way to unwind after long days. Eventually, the games were followed by texts, then voice notes, then full-blown calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning.

Y/N had learned a lot about Lando during those calls. How he hated olives but loved olive oil. He always watched one episode too many when he promised he’d go to bed early. How silence didn’t scare him, and how his laughter sometimes sounded like relief.

They’d grown close.

So close when the new season began, and she started to notice him pulling away—she noticed.

He was Lando, still cheeky and warm and kind. But now there was a weight behind his smile. A slump in his shoulders when he thought no one was looking. Most of all, there was tension in how quiet he got when scrolling through his phone, the way his jaw would tighten, thumb hovering over a screen that never seemed to offer good news.

The race hadn’t gone as well as they’d hoped. The car was temperamental, the strategy of. The media had been brutal. And Lando… Lando was taking it personally.

It was past midnight when Y/N’s phone buzzed.

Lando: You up?

Y/N: Always. Need to talk or need to be distracted?

It took a minute before the typing bubbles appeared.

Lando: a bit of both. I'm just… tired. Of people. Of messing up. Of feeling like I’m not enough.

Y/N’s heart sank. Without thinking, she called him.

He picked up after the first ring.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Talk to me.”

There was a pause on the other end, then a shaky breath. “I know I shouldn’t let it get to me. The comments. The press. The expectations. But it’s like… I can’t shut it out this time. Everyone’s already written me off.”

“Lando…” she murmured, shifting on her bed. “You are not what those people say you are. You’ve done more in the past few years than most people ever get close to. You work your ass off. You care. You’re allowed to be disappointed—but not to forget who you are.”

He didn’t speak for a second.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Especially not you.”

She blinked at the ceiling, her heart squeezing. “Hey. You couldn’t let me down even if you tried. I’m here. Always. Whether you’re on pole or P18. That doesn’t change.”

He let out a breath—this time, steadier. “I hate how you always know what to say.”

“That’s because you’re not very mysterious,” she teased gently. “Plus, I’m a genius.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Debatable.”

“Shut up. Let me hype you up.”

Lando grew quiet again, but this time it felt like peace instead of pressure.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said after a beat. “For always answering. For always being… you.”

“Always,” she whispered. “Now get some sleep. I’ll beat your ass at 8 Ball tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “Dream on.”

But she heard the smile in his voice, and that was enough.

The paddock buzzed with media, team personnel, and the hum of anticipation. Cameras flashed, journalists circled like hawks, and mechanics moved with quiet urgency. But Y/N had learned to find her pockets of calm. She had her coffee, her notes, and her well-practiced ability to look like she was busier than she was.

She spotted Lando from across the garage.

Cap low, hoodie pulled over his race suit, jaw set.

But when his eyes found hers, something shifted. His shoulders relaxed just slightly, and his mouth twitched up at one corner.

He made his way over, slipping through the chaos like it didn’t faze him, though she knew better.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice only for her.

“Hey,” she replied, equally quiet.

“You beat me at 8 Ball,” he muttered.

She grinned. “Told you I would. Should’ve let me hype you up before the game, too.”

He laughed under his breath. It wasn’t loud, but it was real. And that felt like a win.

“You sleep okay?” she asked, watching his face.

He nodded, nudging her lightly with his elbow. “I did. You helped.”

“Good,” she said. “Now don’t let any of those trolls live rent-free in your head today. You’re here for you. For the team. And maybe a little bit for the drama.”

That pulled a wider smile from him. “You’re better at pep talks than my old sports psych.”

“Probably better looking too,” she teased, sipping her coffee.

He didn’t deny it.

They stood there a beat longer, just existing in each other’s calm before the noise swallowed them whole again.

Will called him over, and Lando straightened up.

“Time to go to work.” He said, turning away.

But before he went, Y/N called for him to come back.

He glanced back at her. “What is it?” He asked.

Y/n bit her bottom lip in the nervous way Lando loved, but he would never admit that, and walked up to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light peck on the cheek.

“For good luck,” she said, flushed.

Lando smiled, and he smiled hard. So hard that it hurt, and he carried that smile out onto the grid.

The roar of the crowd was still echoing in the paddock. Orange flags waved from the grandstands, mechanics were cheering, champagne sprayed somewhere nearby—and Lando stood on top of the world.

He’d done it.

His first win of the season.

It didn’t hit him all at once. It came in waves—the checkered flag, his race engineer yelling in his ears, the blur of the final lap flashing back in his mind. But now, standing next to his car with confetti still drifting down like slow-motion snow, it hit.

And he smiled.

No, he beamed.

Because the first thing he saw when he turned around was her.

Y/N had pushed through the crowd just enough to stand on the edge of the garage, a breathless grin on her face and pride in her eyes.

He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.

He jogged straight to her, still in his suit and helmet, sitting on the first-place table stand, and before she could even say a word, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground like she was weightless.

She let out a startled laugh, clinging to his shoulders. “Lando!”

“I did it!” he yelled, spinning her once before setting her back down, still holding her like he wasn’t ready to let go.

“I know! I watched it happen!” she said through a laugh, breath catching at how happy he looked.

He leaned his forehead against hers for a second, grinning like an idiot. “It was a kiss. I’m telling you. You kissed me and boom—podium. Easy math.”

She flushed. “I didn’t say it was that kind of good luck.”

“Too late,” he whispered. “I’m never racing without one again.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too widely to deny how much she cared. “You were brilliant out there.”

He pulled back enough to look at her properly. “You believed in me when I didn’t. I’ll never forget that.”

Her heart stuttered at the sincerity. But before she could answer, cameras started clicking furiously again, someone called his name, and he gave her one last squeeze.

“I gotta go do media stuff—but don’t leave, alright?”

“I won’t.”

He took a step back, still smiling like he’d just been handed the world—and honestly, he kind of had.

And Y/N? She just watched him walk off, her heart full and racing, a little dazed by how much that boy meant to her now.

The party had faded hours ago. The team had cheered, the champagne had flowed, and Lando had done more interviews than he could count. His face hurt from smiling, his voice was half gone, and his suit still smelled faintly of victory and engine oil.

But now… now it was quiet.

Lando stepped out on the rooftop lounge of the hotel wearing a t-shirt and some joggers. The night air was cool against his skin, the concrete still warm from the day’s sun. He wasn’t even sure why he came out here—just needed space, maybe. Air that wasn’t full of flashing lights and praise.

And there she was.

Sitting on one of the lounges, looking up at the stars, sipping from a bottle of water, like she’d been waiting. Or maybe just knew he’d show up eventually.

Y/N looked up and smiled, soft and familiar. “Hey, champ.”

He walked over and dropped down beside her, shoulder brushing hers. “You’re still awake?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” She handed him her spare bottle.

He took it, twisted the cap, and drank without question. “Can’t sleep. Still buzzing.”

“Kind of hard to crash after your first win of the season.”

He chuckled. “You make it sound cooler than I do.”

“It is cool. You were incredible, Lando. No one could’ve taken that win from you today.”

He leaned back on his palms, glancing up at the stars above. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

They sat in silence for a moment, their legs stretched out in front of them, ankles nearly touching. Somewhere down the road, a car whooshed by. People were humming in the streets down below.

“You ever wonder,” he said quietly, “if it’s ever going to be enough? Like… you do everything right, you win, you prove people wrong—but then there’s always more. More noise. More pressure.”

She looked over at him, eyes steady. “Yeah. I wonder about that a lot. Especially when I see you carry the weight of it like it’s your job, too.”

Lando didn’t respond right away. He just stared ahead, letting her words settle.

“But you don’t have to carry it alone, you know,” she added gently. “Not when I’m around.”

His gaze shifted to her, something raw and open in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

Another quiet stretch passed, filled with everything they weren’t saying out loud. And then—

“You’re kind of my favorite person right now,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

Y/N’s breath caught.

“Just right now?” she teased.

Lando smiled slowly, turning to face her fully. “Alright—maybe longer.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, heart thudding a little too loudly in her chest. “Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

And they sat there, side by side, under the stars—two friends teetering on the edge of something more. Not ready to fall just yet, but both were wondering what would happen if they did.

They weren’t together. But they weren’t just friends anymore, either.

Sometimes Y/N would catch herself mid-laugh, watching the way his eyes crinkled when he was genuinely happy, and her stomach would twist. Not in a bad way—just that damn it kind of way. The kind that made her fingers itch to reach for him. To hold his face. To kiss him like she’d imagined one too many times in the dark.

And Lando? He was no better.

There were nights he’d finish a race and instinctively check his phone—not for the media, not even for his team—but for her. Just a little “Proud of you” text with the star emoji she always used. That’s all it took. That one sentence could undo him. He kept screenshots. He reread old messages when he couldn’t sleep. And there were moments, more than he could admit, where he caught himself imagining what it would be like to wake up to her in his bed. Not even for anything explicit—just her, warm and sleepy, stealing the covers and smiling at him through the sunrise.

They hadn’t crossed that line. Not yet.

But the tension simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but always there. It was in the way her hand lingered on his back just a second too long. The way his gaze dropped to her lips when she was mid-sentence. The way they always seemed to lean just a little too close when they laughed, like gravity was slowly pulling them together.

And when they hugged now—because they did, often—it wasn’t the quick, polite kind anymore.

It was slow. Intentional. Bodies pressed close. Hands-on waists, fingers at the nape of a neck. Heads tucked into shoulders. His heart was thundering.

Y/N wasn’t sure who would break first.

But sometimes, when he looked at her like she was the only thing tethering him to earth, she thought maybe it would be both of them.

But where it truly got complicated… was in the physio room.

There was only so much distance you could keep when your job involved touch.

Y/N was a professional. She’d worked with dozens of athletes. But none of them made her heartbeat do stupid things when she slid her hands down a tight quad or helped them through a stretch. None of them made her pause before every session and breathe, just to stay grounded.

Lando was different.

At first, it was subtle—his breath hitching when her fingers pressed into the muscle at the back of his shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed for a second longer than necessary. The way he’d hum quietly, almost to himself, whenever her hands found the spots that needed working out.

But lately, the air between them had changed.

His eyes lingered when she bent down to adjust his posture. Her fingers hesitated, not out of uncertainty, but want. His body relaxed under her touch in a way that felt like trust. Like surrender.

And sometimes… their touches lingered.

Like that morning when he came in early, hoodie tugged over his curls, voice still raspy with sleep.

She had him lying flat on the padded table, one leg bent, her hand gliding over his thigh to feel the tension. Her other hand braced his knee, her eyes locked on his body as she worked through the tightness.

“You okay?” she asked softly, fingers pausing at the sensitive spot.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Feels good.”

Too good. Too intimate.

She glanced up, and he was already looking at her—eyes soft, lips parted, breath shallow.

It would’ve been so easy. Just a little lean forward. Just one second of bravery.

But then he blinked, and the moment passed. Barely.

Another time, he sat shirtless on the edge of the table, and she stood behind him, helping him stretch out his shoulders. Her hands slid up his back, over the planes of muscle and the little freckles she was trying not to memorize. He leaned back slightly into her touch, head tilting until it nearly rested against her shoulder.

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

The air was thick with something unspoken. His hand dropped, fingers brushing against her leg.

It should’ve meant nothing. But it did.

Their sessions grew longer. Not because he needed more treatment, but because neither of them wanted to leave.

Because physio had become the one place where they could be close without questions. Without pressure. Just them. Quiet. Tense. Comfortable. Dangerous.

They weren’t together. But they weren’t just friends either.

And more and more, when Y/N found herself thinking about him—about his laugh, about his hands, about the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention—it wasn’t professional.

Not even close.

And Lando? He couldn’t even pretend anymore.

He thought about her when he fell asleep. Dreamed about her touch. Missed her even when they’d just seen each other. He lived for her voice. Her calm. Her presence. Her hands.

He was falling.

They both were.

And one day soon, one of them would break.

Lando had finished P2. A hard-fought, tooth-and-nail race that left his adrenaline spiking and his heart pounding. The kind of race where the sweat felt earned and every muscle in his body ached in the best way.

And when he climbed out of the car and saw Y/N waiting just outside the garage with that quiet smile—smile-the one she saved just for him, it was better than any champagne on the podium.

“You were unreal,” she beamed, reaching for his water bottle, like always.

He leaned in without thinking, resting his forehead against hers for a beat. He was still in his helmet, visor up, and he could feel her breath against his chin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured.

She flushed. He loved it when she flushed.

But before they could say anything else, someone behind them cracked a joke—too loud, too thoughtless.

“…Guess Lando needs extra weight in the garage to balance the car out, huh?”

A pause.

Someone snorted. A second of awkward laughter from a couple of junior engineers nearby. They didn’t mean it maliciously. Just idiots being idiots. The kind who thought fat jokes were still funny.

Y/N didn’t even flinch. She’d learned not to. Instead, she looked away, jaw tight, the smile slipping off her face.

But Lando?

Lando snapped.

He turned so fast that his helmet nearly swung into someone.

“What the hell did you just say?” he barked.

The laughter died instantly.

The guy, the one who’d said it, froze. “I was just—just joking—”

“No. You weren’t. You were being a disrespectful prick,” Lando said, voice sharp, unwavering. “She does more for this team than you ever will. She’s the reason I’m standing here right now with a trophy in reach, and if I ever hear you talk about her like that again, I swear to God—”

“Lando,” Y/N said quietly, her hand brushing his arm. But he wasn’t done.

“I don’t care who you think you are. You want to stay on this team, you treat her with respect. She’s family.”

The word family landed heavily.

Everyone was silent.

The guy mumbled something that might’ve been an apology and disappeared fast. The others avoided eye contact, scattering like roaches.

Lando turned back to her, face still flushed with anger, chest heaving.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His eyes softened immediately. “Don’t. Don’t you ever apologize for other people being assholes.”

She looked at him, her throat tight. “I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m not. And I won’t be.” He reached out and took her hand, just for a second. But it felt like a lifetime. “You mean too much to me.”

That part slipped out.

Neither of them moved. Not even when Will called for Lando to get to the media.

“I’ll find you after,” he said, voice quiet again. “Don’t disappear, yeah?”

She nodded, heart thudding.

And when he finally walked off, she stood there for a moment longer, hand still tingling from his touch, replaying his words.

You mean too much to me.

Maybe this wasn’t just friendship anymore.

Maybe it never had been.

The gym was quiet—unusually so. Just the soft hum of machines, the occasional thud of a dropped weight, and the low murmur of a playlist that neither of them was paying attention to.

Y/N sat on the mat, stretching out Lando’s leg, focused on his hamstring. Or at least pretending to be.

Lando was lying on his back, shirt clinging to him with sweat, one arm slung lazily over his eyes. But she could feel the way his body had gone still under her hands. Not relaxed. Not tense. Just waiting.

Waiting for something to break.

Her fingers moved gently, working the muscle. Slow, practiced, familiar. And yet it felt anything but.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally, voice soft and scratchy from the heat.

Y/N glanced up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just focusing.”

“Right,” he muttered. “Because stretching me out is so mentally taxing.”

She gave his leg a push, just enough to make him grunt. “Don’t tempt me to bend it the wrong way.”

That pulled a laugh from him, but even that sounded off.

A beat passed. Another. The air buzzed with something unsaid.

“I meant it, you know,” Lando said suddenly, lowering his arm so he could look at her. “What I said last week. About you.”

She froze, fingers stilling just above his knee.

“Lando…”

“No one’s ever stood up for you like that?” he asked, sitting up slowly. “That’s what you told me.”

She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t move away either. “People don’t usually think I need it.”

“Well, I do,” he said. “I see how you carry it all. The weight. The pressure. The way you make space for everyone else. I just—I wanted you to know someone’s got your back too.”

Their eyes locked, and everything in the room went still.

Her heart pounded in her ears. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

“I’ll always choose to.”

That hung in the air.

And then she was moving, standing, grabbing a towel, pretending to need a break—but Lando followed and stopped her just short of the water cooler.

He stepped into her space, one hand coming up to brush a loose curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered, soft and warm against her skin.

Her breath hitched.

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“Y/N…” he said, almost like a warning. Almost like a prayer.

She leaned in just slightly, barely a fraction.

But a door slammed in the hallway, laughter echoing down from a nearby group, and they both stepped back at the same time, like the spell had been broken.

She swallowed. “We should… finish the cooldown.”

He nodded, jaw tight, eyes still locked on hers. “Yeah. Okay.”

But as they returned to the mats, neither of them could focus. Her hands still trembled faintly every time they brushed his skin, and he didn’t stop watching her like he’d never seen her before.

And maybe… just maybe… that was the beginning of the end of pretending.

Race weekends didn’t leave much room for downtime, but somehow, Lando always found time to text her.

Lando: u up?

Y/N: classic

Lando: It’s not what it looks like

Y/N: uh huh

Lando: Okay, it’s a little what it looks like

Y/N: insomnia or overthinking?

Lando: both. You?

Y/N: same. Plus hotel pillows suck and Sarah snores.

Lando: Want to come upstairs?

She stared at the message for longer than she’d admit.

Then:

Y/N: I’ll bring the gummy worms.

Y/N smiled to herself as she climbed out of bed, scribbling a quick note for Sarah to let her know where she was going.

Ten minutes later, she was standing outside Lando’s hotel room, knocking gently. The door opened almost instantly.

Lando stood there in sweats and a hoodie, his curls a tousled mess, eyes soft in that way they only ever got when he was tired—or when she was near.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said, eyeing the bag in her hand.

“I never joke about sugar,” she replied, stepping in.

“Just don’t tell Jon, he’ll flip if he finds out.”

“Don’t worry, your secret's safe with me.” Y/n joked poking Lando lightly on his chest.

He closed the door behind her, the air between them thick with the things they weren’t saying. The things they almost said yesterday.

They sat side by side on the edge of the bed, legs brushing, the bag of gummy worms between them.

For a while, it was easy. Familiar. Joking about the media circus, roasting each other over their old Spotify-wrapped playlists, comparing race notes with mock-serious expressions. The kind of rhythm that came with trust.

But somewhere between her laughing too hard at one of his impressions and him watching her like she hung the damn moon, the silence started to hum again.

“About yesterday,” Lando said softly.

Y/N looked over at him. He wasn’t smiling now. Just studying her like she was something he wanted to memorize.

“You don’t have to explain,” she said, voice quiet.

“I want to,” he replied. “It’s not just what they said. It’s that they thought they could say it. That they thought no one would care.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight.

Lando shifted closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that she felt the heat of him. “I care.”

She met his eyes, searching. “I know. I just… I didn’t expect it. You’re kind to me, Lando. And I don’t know what to do with that sometimes.”

He reached out, hesitating only a second before taking her hand in his. His thumb brushed gently over her knuckles.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “I just want you to feel safe with me.”

Their hands lingered like that—twined and quiet and warm.

Then she laughed under her breath, the sound a little breathless. “You know this is dangerously close to being a rom-com moment.”

“Is it?” he asked, smirking. “We already share gummy worms and trauma. What’s next, joint taxes?”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t let go of his hand.

And neither of them kissed the other.

But God, it was close.

Closer than it had ever been.

And it was getting harder to pretend they didn’t want more.

The dining area was quiet, tucked into that early hour when most of the paddock was still asleep or off on their morning routines. Y/N sat at a corner table with her usual coffee, toast, and a notebook open beside her.

Lando showed up like he always did lately. No grand entrance, just that familiar presence sliding into the seat across from her, hoodie up, sleepy eyes.

“Did you even sleep?” she asked, glancing at the mess of his curls.

“Some,” he said, voice rough with morning. “You?”

“Eventually.” Her mouth quirked. “The sugar crash helped.”

His eyes softened at the memory of gummy worms and everything that nearly happened after. But he didn’t say anything about it—not directly.

Instead, he reached for a slice of toast from her plate, and she didn’t stop him. Their legs brushed under the table. Neither moved.

They talked about the day ahead, strategy notes, and the weather. All the surface-level things that kept them steady. But the air between them was still humming, still warm with the weight of almost.

She caught him watching her once, thumb brushing absently over the edge of his coffee cup. When she looked up, he didn’t look away.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just… glad you’re here.”

Before she could respond, someone slid into the booth beside her.

Sarah.

Y/N blinked. “You’re up early.”

Sarah grinned, setting down her plate. “Early bird gets the paddock pass upgrade.”

She looked between the two of them, and her brows lifted just slightly.

“What?” Y/N asked, trying to sound casual.

“Nothing,” Sarah said innocently. “Just… the tension in this booth could cook my eggs for me.”

Lando choked on his coffee. Y/N elbowed her.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” Sarah continued, eyes dancing. “You two are acting like you didn’t almost kiss last night.”

“Sarah!”

“I knew it,” she crowed, pointing her fork at Y/N. “The way you were texting him before bed? Girl. Come on.”

Lando’s ears had gone pink. Y/N looked like she wanted to melt into the booth.

But still, neither of them denied it.

Sarah grinned, looking way too smug for someone holding a half-eaten croissant. “Well, let me know when you two do something about it. I want front-row seats. Or at least to plan the wedding playlist.”

Lando finally laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s relentless.”

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance, fighting her smile. “She’s not wrong, though.”

His eyes met hers, something quiet and serious beneath the teasing.

“No,” he said softly. “She’s not.”

The room was quiet, tucked away from the buzz of the paddock. Just padded floors, low lights, and the occasional thrum of the bass from the nearby garage.

Lando lay on the mat, one arm slung over his eyes, his race suit pulled halfway down to his waist. Y/N knelt beside him, helping him stretch through his usual pre-qualifying routine.

It should’ve been routine by now—she knew the shape of his body like muscle memory. But something about today felt different. Like they’d both woken up with the echo of what could’ve happened the night before still lingering in their skin.

“Tell me when it’s too much,” she murmured, guiding his leg into a deep hamstring stretch.

He let out a breath through his nose, shifting slightly under her touch. “You’re good.”

But his voice was rough, and she could feel the tension—not just in his body, but in the way his fingers flexed slightly every time her hands brushed his thighs, her forearm skimmed his ribs.

He didn’t pull away.

And neither did she.

When she leaned in to adjust his shoulder, her breath hit the side of his neck. He shivered.

“Cold?” she asked, low and teasing.

“No,” he said, and when he looked up at her, his eyes didn’t blink. “Not even a little.”

Y/N’s breath caught. She was straddling one leg, hovering over him, face barely inches away.

It would be so easy.

His hand came up like he might tuck her hair behind her ear or maybe just touch her cheek—he stopped himself.

Barely.

A beat passed. And another.

Then the door creaked open.

“Lando?” Will’s voice broke the spell. “Time to suit up.”

Lando blinked first. Cleared his throat. “Yeah. Be right there.”

Y/N rolled off him, trying not to look rattled. Lando stood, tugging his suit back on, eyes flicking to her once more as he paused by the door.

“You coming?” he asked softly.

She nodded, grabbing her clipboard, trying to calm the heat in her chest. “Always.”

He smiled—small, knowing, charged—and disappeared down the hall.

She exhaled hard, gripping the edge of the table.

They were right on the edge of something dangerous and wonderful.

And neither of them had quite decided if they were brave enough to fall.

545 notes · View notes

fromdove · 2 months ago

Text

The oven clock hums in the quiet, blue-lit kitchen.

5:27 a.m. The numbers blink at you like you personally wronged them—like you committed war crimes against their digital family and their only form of retaliation is flickering judgment at you in LED red.

You squint back, unrepentant. The apartment holds its breath. Outside, Gotham isn’t dreaming—it never does. It paces. Restless. Sirens cut through the early morning murk like lullabies for the damned. Somewhere out there, someone’s bleeding, someone’s running, someone’s already clocking in for the graveyard shift that never ends, a bus driver lighting a cigarette with fingers still shaking from the night shift.

The city isn’t sleeping. It’s grinding its molars, turning over in its own filth.

The wind licks the window, not gently, but like it’s testing the glass—like it’s bored and looking for something to break.

And somehow, by some divine interventional clerical error, your responsibilities haven’t kicked the door down yet.

“We talked all night,” you murmur.

Dick hums in agreement, sitting cross-legged on the tile like he belongs there, wearing sleep like an afterthought. He’s in sweats and a shirt that you bought him. His hair’s damp from a half-hearted shower, his cheek smudged with what might be ice-cream or a healing bruise—it's always hard to tell with him. always a coin toss.

You’re perched on the countertop like some shrine, legs swinging in lazy arcs, socked feet brushing the cabinet every time you swing your legs backward. There’s an open tub of half-melted ice cream between you. A spoon balances precariously in your hand, forgotten.

“You realize we spent two hours ranking vigilante catchphrases and another forty-five debating whether penguins would survive Gotham winter,” you say.

“I know,” he replies, sipping cold tea like it’s a fine wine. “I just thought we were both committing to the bit.”

“What bit?”

“The sleep-deprived heart-to-heart we pretend isn’t happening.”

"This was not a sleep deprived heart-to-heart."

He looks up, eyes wide with mock innocence. “Exactly. That’s the denial stage. My point stands.”

You scoff, but your grin betrays you. “You’re dumb.”

“I’m right.”

“No, you’re—” You cut off with a snort, unable to finish through the laugh crawling up your throat. “Whatever.”

He shrugs, eyes still locked on yours. “Still made you laugh.”

“I was laughing at you-”

He’s moving before you even finish speaking—like the sentence gave him permission. He stands, pushes his palms into his knees, and crosses the space between you in that slow, deliberate way of his. Not dramatic. Just present.

He steps between your knees. His hands lift, hover, then settle lightly on your thighs—fingertips barely there, like he’s afraid too much contact might undo something. There’s a tremble in it, not from nerves but restraint, like he’s touching the edge of a page he’s scared to tear.

You don’t move. Not because you’re being coy, but because everything in you stills when he’s this close. Like the silence has weight now.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, your voice a decrescendo.

“You’re letting me,” he replies, and suddenly it feels like the kitchen’s not holding its breath anymore. You are.

His hand isn’t lingering at your thigh anymore—it’s at your jaw. He tilts your face towards him, his eyes tracing your face like his intention is mapping you again with the memory of someone who’s traced you before, under kinder lighting. Like he’s not just touching skin, but checking if the shape of you still fits what he remembers.

He leans in—slow, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, even though he knows you won’t. His breath ghosts over your mouth first, warm and a little shaky.

Then he goes in—no more waiting.

The kiss starts of gentle. His mouth brushes yours softly, like he’s trying not to wake something. You inhale sharply, and he pauses. You lean in.

And that’s when it deepens.

It’s not frantic, but there's intention behind it. He kisses you like he’s making a point, and the point is You, me, here, now. His hands settle at your waist anchoring you to him, pulling you closer, and yours find his neck, fingers threading into the hair at his nape, damp and warm.

There’s a kind of ache in it—slow, knowing. Not hunger, exactly, but the full-bodied weight of recognition. He tastes like mint toothpaste and sleep deprivation.

When you pull back, your breathing is uneven, lips kissed swollen, forehead pressed to his like punctuation.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He smiles, and it’s real. Not his charming, PR-smile. This is the smile he only gives when you’re the only one awake with him.

“Hi,” he echoes, soft as breath.

You keep your eyes closed.

Then: “So... if I said I wanted pancakes now, you’d say—?”

He groans dramatically, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I knew that kiss had a motive.”

“Pancakes and affection for your amazing and kind and scrumptious girlfriend. Not exactly a criminal demand.”

He lifts his head and kisses you again—just once, firm and warm and maybe even a little possessive.

“I’m dating a con artist.”

“You love it.”

He laughs into your neck. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I do.”

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bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago

Text

sinful sentences (eleven)

oscar piastri - "please, mark me."

tags: smut/pwp, bruises & hickies, jealous!oscar, modified doggy style, body worship & dirty talk, one spank, backshots

sinful sentences catalogue

jealousy was an emotion that oscar piastri felt was childish. to be envious of someone else's accomplishments was just an excuse for someone not to work on themself.

that didn't mean that oscar never felt the familiar pang from time to time. when lando won a grand prix was an example of when the feeling tugged in his gut. but that was nothing compared to the ice cold that ran through his body as he felt a pang of jealousy through him at the sight of you and carlos speaking.

you, dressed in mclaren orange, shouldn't be talking to the likes of sainz. you should be tucked away against oscar and away from the likes of carlos. it could be seen as petty, but when you giggled at one of carlos' comments. he knew that he wanted to mark you.

oscar would be the gentleman, he always was, and guide you away from the ferrari driver. hand on your lower back as he was all smiles with you. but when his gaze locked with carlos, his smile became tinted with something else. something a little more possessive. a warning gaze to the other driver. do not touch what isn't yours. only to have his look torn away when you took him by the cheek and pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

you giggled before you pulled away from oscar, you took him by the hand and led him back towards the mclaren side of the garage. back into his territory. where you should be. not letting the spanish driver chat you up like you were on the market. everyone knew that you and oscar were together. but oscar guessed that carlos wasn't getting the memo. oscar let you kiss him again and again and again as you made your way further into the garage.

you fit against him so well. tucked under him like the wing of a bird. your kisses were soft and your lip gloss stuck to his cheek and left a little shine. you giggled and asked, "oscar, honey. your going to get lines before your thirty-five with that look on your face. it might even stay like that!" and lean in further to rub the scrunch in his eyebrows.

oscar smiled and kept an arm around you, "thank you, babe." then leaned in to kiss you on the mouth. he needed to stay focus for the upcoming qualifiers, he didn't need the green eyed monster impacting his performance. with one final kiss he got ready for qualifier.

you weren't stupid, you didn't get your degree in engineering because you were an idiot. and even though you were oscar's cute girlfriend, a darling for the fans, you were keen. had to be to be with a driver of oscar's caliber. while your chat with carlos was friendly, sharing banter before the qualifier, you knew that oscar was seeing green. the relationship between the two of them was tense. you let him escort you back to where you needed to be, gave him kisses and let him wrap himself up in you.

but you knew to sate the jealousy, you'd need to do more than press glossed lips against his warmed cheek. so when you were back in the hotel, you added a little sway to your hips as you went to the bedroom and asked oscar one little question, "oscar, honey. can i have one thing tonight?"

"anything." always the giver.

you looked over your shoulder and with a small flutter of your lashes, you said rather than asked, "please, mark me." and you had never seen oscar trip over himself to get to you as he did in that moment. because who was he to deny his girlfriend anything.

you giggled when you entered the bedroom and he wrapped his strong arms around you. his grip tight as he held you and kissed your neck. your giggles were replaced with gasps when he started to bite at the column of your neck. your hands held onto his forearms and you laughed a little at the feeling. his grip was slightly possessive, but you loved it. you loved him. there was something about him that kept you achy for more. so of course it was only fair that you sated the lingering jealousy in his core.

he started to leave marks, the kind of marks that you knew very little make-up would fix. but it was hot, a certain eroticism that made your core soaked. his teeth nibbled into your skin and made your body grow hot.

"how does that feel, beautiful?" he asked with with a strong hint of want in his tone. he couldn't help it. you shakily exhaled, unable to form words as he continued to mark you up, "you asked for this, you asked to be marked up by me." he pressed himself against your back and licked his lips before he continued to suck and mark your skin.

you held onto him tighter and felt the leap in your chest from the feeling. it was painful, but you loved it. to feel marked by him,owned in a certain way. even though the two of you had a partnership of equals, there was something a little arousing by the feeling of him acting some possessive over you.

"let's get undressed." you said softly and he let you go enough for you to have enough room to get out of the mclaren shirt you wore. the pretty little thing you wore around the paddock, it was cute. but it would look better on the floor. oscar eyed you up and down as you undressed. you looked over your shoulder at him as you got your jeans off and winked at him, "i bet carlos wouldn't know how to handle me. at least not in the way you do." then yelped when oscar pushed you down over the bed with your ass up and your feet still on the carpeted floor.

he eyed your cotton panties, white with roses on them. you couldn't be any sweeter. he licked his lips and ran his hand down your back which made you shudder. he replied, "of course he couldn't. please don't talk about him in the bedroom."

you giggled a little, "of course." you couldn't help but get wet at the feeling. you moaned when he pulled your panties down then started to work at the waistband of his jogger. you moaned louder when he slapped you across the behind which only made you excited.

"someone's wet." he chuckled as he rubbed his finger up against your slit, capturing a bit of wetness. he bought it to his lips and chuckled, "dirty girl." and you shuddered.

oscar got his clothes off, occasionally teasing your pussy with his fingers before he lined his bare cock up with your perfectly. he rubbed it against you teasingly and watched you squirm. it was hot, it riled something up in him until he sank down into you. letting himself feel all of you, every inch of heated pussy. you were soaked, letting your wetness coat his cock.

"that it's, fuck, baby." he shuddered as he felt all your warmth. all your love for him. carlos could never compete, not when oscar's love for you when deep. a longing, a yearning he could never remove himself from. he loved you, and as he held you hips as fucked you up against the mattress, his love took a physical manifestation.

"please, oscar." you said softly as the two of you moved against one another. the feeling was intense, there was a rawness to your passion that left your mind swimming as he held you by the hips and moved against you.

he swallowed back some of the pleasure as he moved against you. he admried your features as pleasure started to coil in your core. he kissed you on the center of your back. he held you by the back of your neck to keep you face down on the bed as he fucked you. it was hard for you, almost on your tippy toes to keep leveled with his cock.

it was cute to see you struggle a little, you were eager for him. that only made you more endearing as he held onto you soft hips and moved up against you. he felt the pleasure in his core as he worked his cock inside of you, letting you both feel the sweetness of passionate sex.

carolos sainz could eat his heart out.

you were not for him, only for oscar. your other half, and oscar loved that fact. you were all his, no one else's, no ferrari fool could steal you away from him. and it only made him press you further into the bed, his thrusts heavy which made you held onto the covers tightly under you.

"fuck."

oscar leaned forward and started to decorate your back with hot kisses, followed by more hickies. you wouldn't be wearing backless dresses for a good while now, not when your skin was tinted purple from the marks. it only excited him more.

as did you, as your nails dug into the covers and the sensation made your back arch, "ah, honey!"

"you feel right for me." he said softly, "you feel so right, every inch of you is perfect." he splayed a hand across your back and rocked up into you. his pace made your toes curl into the carpet under you as you tried to keep yourself upright thanks to the force of his movements.

"you feel amazing too." you said softly, "unlike anyone else. fuck, that feels good. you feel good, oscar. perfect for me." and then let out a sweet moan as he smacked your round behind once more, which you hard to admit made you fairly sexually excited. a rush through you as he moved his hips against your ass.

you were his girlfriend, the love of his life! you were beyond special in his eyes. there was no one else like you that he could ever meet. you were like the rarest mineral he could find in the dirt, something worth admiring. a treasure for him.

the two of you moved together as he fucked you over the bed. soon he wrapped his strong arms around you and moved himself up against you. his cock hit all the right places in you and he watched you struggle to take every inch. he was a bit bigger than average, but he knew more how to make you a whiny, panting mess for him.

you felt yourself grow needy for climax. the feeling was powerful as your back arched a little more as the pleasure coursed through you. you were sweaty and on the knife's edge. you whined into the covers as you let him continue to move up against you. his cock brushed up against all the right areas.

"that's it, that's it." he said softly, "you feel amazing." he held onto your middle a little tighter and continued to hit your sweet spots with each heavy thrust of his hips. his words were true as he fucked you.

"oscar. fuck, i'm close." you panted. there was no one else for you.

and there was no one else for him as he said, "perfect, cum for me, babe. make a mess of yourself." maybe his words were tinged slightly with possessiveness. but you couldn't help it, not when you sounded so beautiful with your cunt getting his entire length soaked. it was hot, erotic in a sense that it only drove him to want to pleasure you further.

"oscar." you whined as you came around his cock. his thrusts continued and you felt like you were on top of the world. you felt the pounding your heart as you pussy clenched around him. it left a head rush followed by a throb as you relaxed your grip against the covers.

"that's it. only one for you. no one else." your sweet boyfriend's tone was heavy with lust as he gave you a few more heavy strokes of his cock. he felt your cunt have a hold on him as he finished inside of you. he let out a heavy exhale as he finished, slowing his pace until he stopped and letting your plant your feet firmly on the ground.

but quickly you were in bed with him, his arms wrapped around you and his sweaty forehead pressed against yours. you both laid in bed and panted heavily against one another. you smiled softly at the closeness, especially with his arm wrapped around you lovingly. his hold was protective.

"i love you." he said softly.

"and i love you." you replied as you turned over to kiss him on the lips. oscar felt more secure in your love for him, that you wouldn't run off with carlos or any other driver. not when your skin was littered with marks of him. better luck next time, sainz <3

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