reidiot

[reidiot]

if he can’t get P1 in monaco this year, then by god he’ll be B1 🍌🩵

[reidiot]

me on my first criminal minds watch: i hope this scene doesn't awaken anything in me.

the "scene" in question:

[reidiot]

my honest reaction

teammate!lando x reader where they had a bet and she loses…so he makes her crawl to her, hump the pillow, rub her bare clit against his clothed crotch ALL WHILE HE RECORDS HER (with consent ofc)

Lights, Camera, Action! | LN⁴

🔹️ summary ──── It was supposed to be a joke, then it became everything.

🔹️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x fem teammate!reader

🔹️ rating ──── explicit

🔹️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, nerdy!Lando, soft!dom Lando, recording (consensual), cushion humping, manhandling, orgasm from external stimulation, swearing, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, playful teasing, camera kink??

🔹️ word count ──── 6.3k

🔹️ date ──── May 6, 2025

🔹️ a/n ──── How tf do I set my intention to go for PURE SMUT NO PLOT, yet still manage to write over 6k 😀 I don’t even know what’s this, nothing makes sense and we are living on a floating rock.

Hear me out, I usually only link the song, but then I remembered about this music video and I almost had an aneurysm because of how well it fits. I recommend watching it after reading though. Anyway, ENJOY!!

THE LAST RACE before the break fucked them both. Pretty hard. What was supposed to end with another 1-2 finish for the team turned into a disaster of strategy, pace, and pure bad luck.

Since getting back to Monaco, the fallout hasn’t left them alone. It’s pretty hard when everyone is talking about it; it can get lonely, too. Luckily for them, they’ve been texting back and forth for days, laced with sarcasm, blame, and just enough flirtation to keep the tension at its peak. However, neither of them said what they really wanted to say. But it was always there, between the lines as usual, and in the way her name popped up on his screen, making his stomach flip.

Every single time.

The bar is loud enough to blur that tension and even Lando, with his no-alcohol rule, is loose and laughing. They dance and talk about anything but racing, and for a while it feels like neither of them are carrying the weight of disappointment.

Friends come and go through their circle, a few fans spot them and ask for pictures — which they take, grinning too wide and standing too close for their own good. Somewhere between the fourth round of mocktails, a familiar song starts pulsing through the speakers, and that’s when she brings up the bet, half-laughing, stepping in front of him like she did back in the garage when she dared him.

“If I finish behind you, I owe you a private dance,” she said, confidence dripping from every word. She’d qualified ahead of Lando, and was so confident she can finish ahead of him, too. But since every race is unpredictable and full of unknowns, she ended up taking the checkered flag after him.

It was a joke, anyway. But she can’t say with all her heart that she hasn’t thought about it at least a few couple of times. Besides, it’s Lando who’s been constantly reminding her throughout the past few days and, even if it was in jest, the curiosity made her spend hours staring at the ceiling of her room, imagining different scenarios.

Now, it’s late when the door to his apartment clicks shut behind them with a clean, satisfying noise. Lando tosses his keys into the ceramic bowl on the console with more force than necessary, and while the keys clatter, one nearly skids off the edge, forcing him to reach for it instinctively. She doesn’t say anything, although she can’t help but finding amusing that the inanimate objects always decide to act up only when her teammate’s patience seems so fragile.

The sudden movement makes Lando whine in exasperation as she watches him kick off his shoes and drag a hand through his curls.

The place is quiet, as if reflecting their inner agitation, silently burning within. He’s not bothering turning on more than a lamp, but it’s enough to bathe the whole living room in a pale silver glow, making everything seem even more intimate than it should be.

As they step further into the apartment, the same silence hits them both, because it’s not just the sudden absence of noise, but the weight of it. They’ve never been this quiet around each other before. Usually, they’re the chaos in the garage, either laughing too loud or teasing mid-debriefs, always bringing the kind of energy that makes their engineers roll their eyes but secretly love it. Now though, it’s the first time neither of them knows what to say. Or how to act.

“Cute place,” she says, partly to break the silence, but mostly because it really is. Spacious, stylish, not super tidy, but very Lando in that sense.

“You know you don’t have to make small talk, right?” he laughs. “It was a stupid bet to begin with, since I was always going to finish ahead of you anyway.”

Her jaw drops slightly at the cockiness in his tone. This is the Lando she knows and, in other circumstances, she would find his confidence hot, but right now it only makes her want to knock that look off his face. Or sit on it just to shut him up. Either works.

“Always eager to finish first? Got it,” the playful jab lands right where she intended without too much effort; it’s a split-second flicker in his expression, the twitch of his jaw, and the way his arms tense.

That’s the spot, she thinks. That’s where it bruises his ego, not because it’s crude, but because it’s enough to sting. Which only makes her want to push harder.

Lando’s grin flattens a bit. “Well, someone’s gotta lead the way,” he replies casually, even though he caught her double meaning phrase.

“Right. Leading the way because you can’t pace yourself,” she fires back.

He chuckles. “Sounds like an excuse from someone who couldn’t keep up.”

They’re toe-to-toe now, all bite and smirk and so much tension. She’s half a second from throwing a cushion at him just to knock that pretty smile off when she glances past his shoulder and, without another word, she steps forward, fingers brushing lightly against Lando’s arm as she urges him to move out of her way, wandering farther into his apartment like she owns the place.

“Interesting,” she mumbles. “I saw you with the camera before,” the girl continues as Lando turns to follow her silhouette. “How about you film me while I dance? Give you some new material for land0.mov?”

Lando’s expression twitches barely, but she’s still able to notice it. That small flash of disbelief, quickly masked by a half-laugh, like he’s not sure if she’s joking or just testing him.

“No way, mate,” says Lando, but it’s already too late.

She nods slowly, letting the weight of her intention settle in the air they share. His boyish smirk fades into curiosity in an instant. It’s like watching him put a helmet on: composed, dialed in, serious in a way most people rarely get to see.

To give him more space to process, she veers toward the low shelf by his TV, crouching slightly. “Let’s see. Which one’s your favorite?” she asks nonchalantly, running her fingers along the row of cameras lined up like little trophies; old film bodies, modern DSLRs, and a few point-and-shoots with scratched lenses.

Lando stares at her like she suddenly grew two more heads in the meantime. “You play too much, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Which one?” she repeats.

He blinks, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. After he rubs the bridge of his nose, Lando exhales slowly. “The, uh… the Leica. Second from the left. Black one,” he instructs. “I rarely use it, which makes it special, I guess.”

She lifts it delicately, turning it over in her hands. It’s heavier than she expected, sleek and cool against her skin. “Nice,” she grins. “Bet it makes everything look expensive.”

Lando hums in agreement, “Only shoots what’s directly in front of it. Look,” he says, getting so close to her that he’s now towering over her frame, while pointing at the camera. “Fixed lens, see? No lazy zooming, but the resolution is insane. The tricky part is that you have to move it yourself to get the shot you want,” he continues.

She looks up at him, noticing a slight shy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. And, just when she thought Lando couldn’t get any nerdier, she hears his voice again.

“It’s a twenty-eight millimeter lens. That’s not crazy wide,” he informs her. “If you stay in the middle, the background’s gonna fall off all soft and blurry. Makes it feel…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “Personal. It’s not even about perfect framing or whatever,” he rushes to add. “It just catches whatever’s there, no hiding.”

“Did you use it before?” she asks, curiosity pulling the words out of her mouth without having the time to think them through.

“I did,” he replies with a grin, giving her enough time to come up with her own scenarios before adding, “On my cars.”

She smiles, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room. “So. If I move, you have to follow, hm?”

Lando nods.

She sets the camera down gently, then leans against the wall beside the shelf with her arms crossed. She’s aware that what she’s suggesting it’s pure insanity, especially after what’s been happening between them lately.

“Okay,” she finally says, holding her hand toward him, palm open. “Can I see your phone for a sec?”

Lando frowns, trying to hide a curious smile. “Why?” he asks, sliding the phone from his pocket and unlocks it, handing it over with suspicion in his voice.

She only flashes him a smile back, thumbing through his apps until she finds the little Spotify icon. A few seconds later, the speakers come alive with a sultry bassline that wraps the room in a charged ambiance.

The teasing in her voice is easy to catch next time she asks, “You seriously have a sex playlist called sex playlist? Men are so predictable.”

He chuckles, “Yeah? What’s yours called?”

“I’ll send you the link,” she winks at him jokingly, but that still has an unexpected effect on Lando. Maybe because he’s starting to understand that his teammate is hardly ever joking, actually.

For a second that feels like a week, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches her, every muscle in his body taut like he’s holding himself back from something that’s about to come out anyway. It has to. Because everything has a limit, and theirs was crossed from the moment she entered his apartment.

With a quiet exhale, she presses herself lightly against the wall, then pushes off and crosses the living room in steady, cat-like steps, taking his hand in hers, fingers threading through his. Her touch is warm and somehow reassuring, her palm so small and silky against his. She guides Lando toward the couch with intent as if this isn’t his own home, nudging him gently until he sits.

She breaks away then, walks back across the room, and returns with the Leica in hand. “Turn it on,” she says simply, with enough clarity behind her words.

Lando stares at her, dumbfounded for a beat, before the corner of his mouth twitches upward in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“I trust you to capture the best in me,” she admits.

He lets out a heavy breath, something between a laugh and a groan, and flips the switch at her insistence. The familiar click of the camera waking up is giving Lando chills, but when he glances up again, his hands still adjusting the ISO, she’s already pulling the shirt over her head, revealing a black bra and her toned shoulders dusted in the dim light.

She tilts her head. “Just make sure I look good, Lando.”

With that, she starts moving as slow as possible, every inch of revealed skin feeling like it’s offered, not given.

Lando’s hands are steady on the camera, but for some reason, breathing doesn’t feel automatic anymore, and he’s currently aware of every shaky breath he takes. His fingers work on instinct, dialing the aperture wider, letting in the glow of the cool lighting. His pulse is racing, heavy in his throat, because he can see everything through the lens, but is still not ready to look at her in the flesh.

For her, it’s easy to notice how focused he is, so she glances straight into the camera on purpose, with a spark of mischief in her gaze, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. To him. As a result, Lando’s knee starts bouncing, restless, his breathing too shallow to be subtle. He can’t remember the last time he felt so tightly wound, but it doesn’t even matter because what happens now will stay with him for a long time, and this is all he needs to remember from now on.

And then, it gets worse.

He stares at her while she’s arching slightly as she undoes her bra clasp, letting it slide off her shoulders and onto the floor without breaking eye contact with the camera. At that, Lando looks away out of instinct — out of that last shred of decency clawing at him. But the camera stays trained on her, and when he lifts his gaze again, it’s like a dam breaks inside him. Violently. The hunger that flashes across his face is instant, and impossible to hide. He doesn’t even try, because what fool could ever take his eyes off her?

Lando adjusts himself without thinking, moving in sync with her teasing gestures as she peels her panties down her legs from under her skirt. He tells himself to stay focused and capture the sensuality of her body with the last fragment of professionalism that he possesses. But that’s a losing game when his own body is burning with need, and every subtle curve and line of her turns into a map that he’s desperate to explore as soon as possible.

His focus lingers on the swell of her breasts, her nipples tightening in the open air. It forces him to swallow hard, a deep ache growing both inside him and his pants, knowing how badly he wants to lean forward and suck them into his mouth, to feel the heat of her skin against his tongue.

The camera dips lower as she dances to the hypnotic rhythm of his music, and Lando keeps working with her, baring the elegant slope of her waist and the strong lines of her thighs. The way she stands there, so natural and confident, feels like a direct hit to his chest that he welcomes without hesitation or any intention of dodging. She’s pure femininity, and that throws him into a black hole made only of her, where the gravity is so strong that there’s no escape.

He’s so focused on her that he almost stops breathing in order to make sure he gets the perfect shot, every shot. That makes Lando’s hand tighten around the camera, his knuckles whitening from the pressure. But his body has a mind on its own, apparently, and his thighs flex like he’s one wrong move away from standing. From closing the distance between them. Against his will, though, he sits there, shivering with the effort to stay still.

“Come on, Norris,” she says, and her voice wakes him up from the trance her shapes put him in. “I’ve seen you take tighter corners at Spa with less hesitation.”

Even though he tries to, he can’t stop the throaty laugh that comes out of him. Only for a moment, Lando lowers the camera again, and lets himself, finally, finally, see her. And this time, he doesn’t look away. He watches her shamelessly, while reaching behind him to take a cushion that he ends up tossing onto the floor near his feet, nodding toward it.

“Go on, then. Show me how desperate you are.”

There is something about the way he says it that sends a thrill straight through her. She heard that Lando is direct when it comes to his wants and needs, but to feel it on her skin hits different. Her pulse suddenly stutters with excitement as she lowers herself in front of him, straddling the cushion, her body already anticipating the liberating feeling.

The moment her hips roll forward and her mouth falls open in surprise at the faint pleasure, Lando is right there, capturing every gasp, every twitch, and every sweet reaction like it’s the only thing that matters. His mind runs wild with all the places he aches to touch — his hand curled around her throat, palms squeezing her breasts, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he teases her until she begs.

The temptation claws at him, full throttle. But he forces himself to handle the camera like a pro, because more than anything, he wants her to see what he sees: how devastatingly beautiful she is like this, undone and bold. Through his own lens, she’s a vision, and giving her that full picture keeps him going.

From her perspective, noticing Lando’s determination sends a fresh wave of heat throughout her body, making her rock her hips a little harder, and that puts a tension in his shoulders. A type of need he didn’t feel before.

To stop herself from making more embarrassing sounds, she meets his gaze over the camera, mouth slightly open. “Is this good?” she asks, voice breathy and half-mocking, although there’s something real underneath. A dare. A plea.

Lando looks at her again, revealing a flushed face and his blown wide pupils. “Yeah, don’t stop,” he replies hoarsely.

Her thighs squeeze around the cushion from the moment she hears the first note in voice, the soft fabric teasing against her clit with every slow roll of her hips, pulling breathy sounds from her. Behind the camera, Lando tails closely as she grinds back and forth, his jaw clenching at the small sounds slipping past her lips.

“Shit, that’s hot. Are you always this needy?” he asks out of pure curiosity, but the question is mostly rhetorical; of course she is. Judging by the way her chest heaves and how she leans forward slightly to catch as much friction as possible, the answer is obvious.

She wants to push back against the power shift, but she’s too lost in the rhythmic movement of her body. And it’s not as if Lando’s wrong. Every gentle brush gets increasingly out of control, each desperate grind into the cushion sending small waves of pleasure straight to her nerves, making her fingers curl into the couch for balance. For the control she’s rapidly losing.

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, mouth constantly parting as the pleasure spirals inside her like a coil wound too tight.

Lando’s fingers flex over the shutter release, but he’s barely present anymore. He’s completely absorbed by what is happening on the other side of his lens, and it’s her moan that pulls him out of it, just as the pressure builds. So he reaches out, his hand entering the frame like an unexpected guest. With ease, his fingers grab the edge of the cushion beneath her, and she pauses, blinking up at him, flushed and dazed, breathing heavily like she just stepped out of the car after a last-lap push. With one strong pull, he slides it out from under her, making her gasp in surprise, her body jolting at the sudden loss.

“Lando,” she exhales irritated.

She gets her hands onto his knees to steady herself, thighs still wobbly, but he’s not looking at her anymore. He’s too busy staring at the soaked fabric instead, darkened with heat and want and everything she didn’t say out loud.

“That good?” he asks, but the arrogance in his voice diminished, giving way to his sincere curiosity.

She shakes her head, looking up at him again. “Not faking it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

The fact that she is as sincere in her statement, encourages Lando to take things to the next level, just to see how much he can push before it’s too much. He throws the cushion aside with a thud, his eyes lit up with need.

“Come here,” he orders in a gentle tone, patting his lap.

She’s stunned at his words initially, and the way they leave no room for teasing. But then she catches the way his tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, leaving it wet and shining, and something inside her pushes her to get up. She realizes that there’s nothing she wouldn’t do if he asked.

With calculated steps, she climbs him patiently, her thighs spreading over him. They’ve been in each other’s personal space in the past, when they had to do silly challenges for McLaren to entertain the fans. Still, even though there’s a camera between them just like before, the air feels different, charged with desire, unknown, and heavy lust. Because this time, it’s just them.

When her body sinks onto his, the scabrous fabric of his jeans meets the soaked warmth between her legs, the weight making Lando groan silently, his little sound hitting her low in her stomach. His reaction encourages her to continue, shifting on top of him in order to find the best position, enough to grind against his bulge. It’s thick and hard beneath her, and the simple contact is already maddening. Yet not nearly enough, and the realization that he’s just as affected by this makes the coil in her stomach tighten further.

“Keep going,” he speaks again as he lifts her skirt up to her waist, going back to the camera and angling it to capture the way she moves against him, right where her skin meets the fabric of his pants.

Her palm comes around his bicep for suport, letting the instincts guide her further. The pressure she chased a moment ago is still there, but it’s different this time around. More intense.

Lando grunts, his free hand gripping her hip to show her the pattern to follow. She whimpers while that sweet ache comes back, her body trembling with need. In no time, she can move on her own, and because she’s such a fast learner, Lando points the camera closer, eager to capture the wetness soaking through.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he says. “You’re making such a mess,” he exhales, bringing his hand between her legs to feel it before he could even process his own action. His thumb finds her clit, rubbing it gently, keeping his eyes on her face the whole time, craving to catch every reaction.

She moans, one hand squeezing his arm harder as her body rocks forward, chasing the release that she hopes it’s not that far into the future, especially if his hips continue to twitch beneath her the way they do, so impatient and reliant on her.

Unfortunately, the time almost stops the moment their faces get close enough to kiss. She can feel the heat of his breath and the pull between them, and she’s sure he can feel it too. Her eyes flick to his mouth, and Lando’s eyes stay on her, but no one dares to close the small gap. Because somehow, that would be more intimate than all of this. Kissing would mean acknowledging what’s been burning between them for a while now. It would mean admitting this is real, and admitting will complicate everything in both their personal and professional lives.

And neither of them are ready to take that chance yet.

With that in mind, she doesn’t lean in. She just closes her eyes and grinds harder, her hips rolling against his hand and the hard line of his cock beneath her. The sensation amplifies fast, and Lando never stops working her with his thumb. Soon enough, her breath comes out in spasms and her thighs start to shake. Her pace intensifies, chasing the high that’s been teasing at the edges of her patience, feeling the mess she’s made slick against Lando’s pants with every desperate press on it. Still, his hand stays steady, rubbing perfectly against her clit, matching the rhythm of her hips like he knows exactly all the ways she wants — and craves — to be touched.

With Lando’s help, it doesn’t take long until her body finally seizes, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as pleasure crashes over her. He moves with her, a silent apology for stopping her earlier written into every precise touch, making sure this time she falls apart completely. Because of him.

Luckily, the camera captures everything: his hand on her, the wet spot she’s left on his pants, the way her skin flushes and seems to crave more with each passing second, and the way her thighs shake when the aftershocks hit. It catches the way she starts trembling, too, body overwhelmed, aching for something deeper, something only he can give her right now.

Only he gives her time to ride it out instead, feeling all the ways her walls flutter, hungry and empty, and the sound that tears from his throat is nothing but a helpless moan. The sensation alone, even without him inside her, is enough to make his head spin. It wrecks him completely, makes him ache with the violent need to know how it would feel to be buried deep inside her, to have her tight, needy pussy squeezing around him while she comes undone all over again. Because of him.

The girl barely registers the camera being placed in her hands until Lando nudges her chin. “Here. See for yourself.”

Except, she doesn’t want it. Not yet. By her own choice, she takes it gently from his hand, presses RECORD again and turns it around, placing it on the padded arm of the couch. Facing them. Remembering Lando’s voice earlier, casual and offhand when he said that the camera only captures what’s in front of it.

Her fingers move impatiently, drifting to the hem of his shirt, bunching it in her hands. “Since you let me finish first,” she rushes to explain.

With that, she pulls the shirt up, and he lifts his arms to help her, muscles tightening under skin slick with the faintest sheen of sweat. Once it’s off, she tosses it to the side, her eyes drinking him in. Lando is warm under her palms, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, and she senses the same tension in him that’s barely holding him together.

She studies his face while her hand drifts lower, trailing down the center of his stomach, pausing at the waistband of his jeans. Carefully, she slips her hand inside, where she finds him hot and so painfully hard that it makes her mouth water. Without any instructions, her fingers curl around his soft skin, and the sight alone makes his stomach flip. She starts to stroke him teasing, but before she can go quicker, Lando grabs her wrist, groaning low in his throat.

“Just a sec,” he pants, voice cracking slightly. His hands are already moving, guiding her hips back over his lap with a need that borders on desperation.

This time, there’s no fabric between them, and her soaked heat presses directly against his length, making them both shuddering at the contact; skin on skin and no more barriers, just the unfiltered reality of what they both want. His hands find home on her hips, big and heavy, his control hanging by a thread.

Agonizingly slow, her clit slides along his hardness, slick and warm, sending sharp jolts of pleasure from one body to another. He can barely contain himself at the way she finds it so easy to rock against him, faster when she feels how thirsty Lando gets in a matter of seconds. He’s leaking already, the head of his cock glistening, smearing against her folds as she moves.

Completely flushed and utterly drunk with pleasure, he shifts beneath her, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, pulling her closer, even though there’s no physical space left between them. But it’s useless. No matter how close they are, there is only one way that would truly satisfy his urge.

“Please,” he whispers next to the shell of her ear, desperate and breathless. “Can I slide in?”

She’s a lost cause by now, and her reply is reduced to a broken hum, while she sits up just enough to guide the thick head of his cock to her entrance. Lando’s patience snaps at her quick response, and he thrusts his hips up in one motion, his hands holding her hips and pulling her down onto him at the same time. The stretch is overwhelming and takes her by surprise, knocking the wind out of her and making her vision blur at the edges as she tries to take all of him.

They moan together, helpless, her hands landing on his chest as she laughs shakily. “You trying to break me in half or?”

“Didn’t think you’d be so tight,” he groans in a strained voice.

Lando tries his best to take it slow, but the way she welcomes him, so warm and perfect, nearly undoes him the moment he’s all in. A shudder runs down his spine as he grips her hips with more force, thinking maybe if he doesn’t hold her right, the world will actually end.

And it may, based on how her hands are sliding up, clawing at his shoulders with her nails digging in to anchor herself. Her breath shudders out in short bursts as she does, her body struggling to adjust, to take everything he has to offer. All of him.

To test the waters, she starts circling her hips, hoping she’ll find the angle that makes her breath hitch, and when she does, it’s like lightning strikes between them. He’s impossibly deep, touching places inside her she didn’t even know could feel this good. Her pussy hugs him so tightly that Lando has to grit his teeth to shut himself up. Then she tilts her hips forward just slightly with every grind, rocking her clit perfectly against his pelvis while he’s buried inside her.

The effect she was looking for is instant, and she hears Lando choking on another moan, finally, “Fuck, yeah. Right there,” his fingers dig into her skin, hunger battling in his wide eyes. “Do that again, it feels so fucking good.”

“Shit, Lando,” she breaths out. “So deep, I can feel you everywhere.”

She pulls him in again and again, until he is practically whining beneath her. Seeing Lando so lost inside her makes her losing the rhythm, her breathing turning ragged, thighs ready to give up as exhaustion and pleasure blur into one. It’s messy and greedy on both sides, and when she finally collapses against his chest, she sobs out a cry, her voice cracking with it.

“Need you,” she exhales. “I can’t hold it anymore.”

Lando doesn’t waste a breath. One sharp, hungry movement and he’s planting his feet against the floor for leverage, thrusting up into her with everything he’s got. She gasps at the same time he groans deep in his chest, the sound vibrating between them as he finally takes her the way they’ve both needed.

Her mouth goes dry.

His jaw tightens.

Their breath grows heavier, shared in the tight, sweaty space. Her body tenses, then squeezes around him with such perfect pressure it leaves him breathless. A high-pitched moan spills from her, unexpected and honest, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, biting at it in order to shut herself up.

Gently, Lando catches her wrist, holding it firm. “If you’re gonna bite something,” he tilts his head, offering his shoulder, “Be a good girl and bite me instead.”

Her breathing is too fast and her mind runs at the speed of an F1 car. She can’t think straight and, for a moment, she just stays there, her forehead brushing the curve of his shoulder as she tries to catch herself from falling in too deep. Then slowly, like she’s giving in to something bigger than her, she places a kiss on his skin. Her lips press gently on it, trailing along the line of his neck to the dip of his collarbone. It’s the closest thing she’ll ever give him. The closest thing to letting herself feel for him.

He’s still warm, salty with sweat, and soft under her lips. And he smells so good, like skin and heat and something clean that clings to her nose and settles in her chest like smoke.

It drugs her.

The way his scent mixes with the feel of his breath against her temple, the way his pulse flutters beneath her lips — she has to stop. It’s too much, too close, too real.

“Think we should bet every race weekend, what do you say?” asks Lando, his pace quickening, hands guiding her up and down his cock like it’s the only thing that keeps him sane. “Would die to have you like this all the time, hm?”

“Mhm,” she grinds down until his name is all she can say. “Fuck. I’m so close.”

“Yeah, baby. I feel you.”

Her voice breaks off into a moan right when she’s about to speak again, to tell him not to go there and call her that. But Lando rolls his hips, pushing deeper, filling her inch by inch until there’s no space left, which shuts her up in an instant. They fuck in a rhythm that shouldn’t work, all sweat-slicked skin and shaky breaths. The air fills up with obscene sounds of them, their bodies colliding with enough force to make her whimper and moan his name all over again, each time he thrusts.

To help himself, he spreads her wider, holding her open for him, watching the way he disappears inside her, utterly wrecked by the sight. “Taking me so fucking well,” he says between thrusts, dragging his mouth over her jaw. “Look.”

She whines while looking down at where they’re joined. Lando moves his gaze on her expression with a grin on his face, so proud when he feels every spasm in her body; it’s a total mess. Her slick is all over him, coating his cock, his thighs, soaking through the waistband of his jeans that are still shoved only halfway down his hips. Each time they meet, there’s a wet sound echoing between them, sticky and warm, ricocheting against the walls in Lando’s living room like a drumbeat pulling them closer to the edge.

“You like how wrecked you’ve got me?”

She nods frantically, squeezing him so tight it makes Lando see stars. At that, he reaches up, brushing the strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears with his long fingers. His hand stays there a moment, continuing to slide lower, fingertips skimming her jaw, then wrapping gently around her throat, enough to feel her pulse. To hold her in place.

In a matter of seconds, their eyes lock again. Her chest heaves and her eyes shine, but not just from pleasure. It’s because she wants to tell him that this isn’t what she expected. It’s much, much more, and it will leave a deep mark, no matter which path they’ll choose to take tomorrow morning.

His hands move hungrily, down from her neck to her chest, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. He holds them carefully, wanting to memorize the shape, the weight, and the way they fill his palms, to make sure he won’t forget a single detail about her body.

“Lan,” she warns.

Lando hums, “Mhm. Right there with you, beautiful,” he assures her.

Her breathing is jagged, the rhythm of their hips desperate, chasing the edge that’s been teasing them since the moment she sank down onto him. Every motion drives him deeper, sends wave after wave crashing through her, because she’s right there for quite a while now.

“Hi there,” Lando’s voice brings her back. His hand comes up to cradle the back of her head, gently pulling her to see her face. “Look at me, I want to see you. Let me see you.”

Her body tenses, and just for a split second the frantic rhythm stutters, then finds its pace again as the orgasm rips through her with a blinding force. She keeps her eyes on his the whole time, riding it out with her hands burried in the curls at the back of his head. His hips jerk beneath her as he throbs inside her, overwhelmed by the way she fights to keep him in. It drives him crazy, and he moans loudly, trying to pull out, but her thighs close tighter around him.

“Inside,” she rushes to say, unable to form sentences longer than one word.

Lando’s jaw clenches so hard he feels like his teeth might snap from the force, every muscle in his body pulled tight and shivering. He holds on by a thread for half a second longer, but then her body flutters around him again, and with a loud, guttural gasp, he lets go, spilling inside her in thick pulses that only make her hold him tighter. His hands shake where they clutch at her hips, trying to pull her down even harder, like he can’t bear even a sliver of distance between them right in this moment.

None of them knows how much time passes like that, but neither of them moves again. She’s stays slumped against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, while his arms stay locked around her waist, as if letting go might break whatever just happened between them.

Lando presses his cheek on the top of her head, his heart hammering so hard he’s sure she can feel it. But it’s fine, because he can feel hers, too.

His hands drift up and down her back in aimless strokes and, while she starts to come back to herself, she notices the music still playing softly around them, the same sultry beat from earlier floating through the air.

Her brows pinch together in confusion before realization hits. “How the fuck did you time your playlist so perfectly?”

Lando lets out a breathless laugh, “Talent.”

She snorts, dropping her head back onto his shoulder with a groan. “Goodness gracious, it is so hard tolerate you.”

“Liar,” he says, “You wanna kiss me so bad.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but the way her cheeks heat up gives her away immediately. Lando laughs under his breath again, cocky and so annoyingly right. She opens her mouth to fire back, to tell him that no, she definitely doesn’t want to kiss his smug ass, but then her eyes catch the little red light blinking from across the couch.

The camera. Still recording.

She nudges him softly, grinning against the flush in her cheeks, and points at it. “Smile and wave, Norris,” she whispers, and Lando immediately flashes the most ridiculous smirk at the lens, making her laugh for real this time.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[reidiot]

the issue with most men nowadays is that they refuse to get educated on a topic unless they are "educated" by another man who knows as less as they know, but in more words.

[reidiot]

all i'm saying is, if lando had come up behind oscar with even a sniff of better pace, mcl would've swapped them immediately. i'm talking no hesitation.

oscar's average lap time towards the end of the race was 1:31.4.

lando's in clear air was 1:31.3.

a tenth, that's it. and yet, oscar gets parked behind like it's 2024 all over again.

it's just interesting to me, you know. i love lando, but can we at least stop pretending this “equal treatment” thing is anything but optics at this point? i think i've seen this film before...

anyway. happy birthday oscar, i guess.

[reidiot]

it's like, i want to do something, and then i remember a criminal minds episode

[reidiot]

when i say i hate men, my man (fictional character i'm currently obsessing over) is right behind me, nodding

[reidiot]

"I love you enough to listen and feel everything with you."

i'm about to get sick HELLO? 🤧💔

Idk if you write about this topics since they are really sensitive, but it is something I’m currently struggling with and I would like to see how lando would react after finding out that the reader has been hiding a her struggle with mental illness and attempts of ending her life. Once again I know how sensitive this request is but I started reading your work and fell in love with it and thought that you would write this beautifully

Seasons change | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── This was a pretty difficult one-shot to write, even though it's not very lengthy. I know that mental health is still a topic of actuality that we all deal with in one way or another. The only thing that I want you guys to remember after reading this, is that you are not alone. I know that it may sound like a broken record, but it's true. Each of us has a Lando in our lives who will care enough to stand by you without ulterior motives or conditions. And if you really feel like you don't, I can be him for you. My DMs and ask box are always open, so don't hesitate to reach out if you need someone. You matter in all your forms 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

☆ summary ──── He's been away for work for a while now, but when Lando comes home to find his girlfriend at her lowest, they have to learn the hard way that love is about sitting with each other in the dark, not just chasing the light.

☆ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

☆ rating ──── mature

☆ category ──── F/M

☆ word count ──── 2.6k

☆ date ──── Jan. 11, 2025

☆ warnings ──── 16+, established relationship, soft!Lando, mental health struggles, depression, suicidal ideation, mention of alcohol consumption and pills, emotional distress, vulnerability, guilt and healing, non-sexual nudity (bathtub scene, including tenderness and intimacy).

Please, proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being. If you or someone you know is struggling, these are some of the resources I personally used for years now & I think (and hope) that it might help you at some point:

☆ MENTAL HEALTH APPS

Calm

7 cups

BetterMe

☆ INSTAGRAM ACCOUNTS

idontmind

thefabstory (also an app)

getreformative (currently inactive, but great resources posted there)

talkspace

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE APARTMENT IS too quiet tonight. A space that once felt like a sanctuary, now seems to close in on her, the walls pressing closer with each passing hour.

To anyone looking in, her life might appear perfectly ordinary, even enviable. She has a stable job that she loves, a couple of friends who care in their own way, and Lando. Lando, with his boundless energy, his boyish grin, and his unwavering ability to see the good in her even when she struggles to find it in herself. But beneath that polished surface, there’s a darkness she’s been hiding for as long as she can remember.

She’s not really sure when it happened, or what caused her to lose her spark. Most of the times, she thinks that she’s always been like this, but that can’t be right. Although, at this point in time, it went on long enough that she learned to wear masks and mimic people’s gestures. It’s exhausting, but it’s easier than explaining why some days she can barely drag herself out of bed, or why her mind feels like a storm she can’t escape.

Lately, the same storm has been relentless. Lando’s been away for weeks, hopping from one race to another, his life a whirlwind of fast cars, tons of people, and flashing cameras. She’s proud of him, of course, but his absence leaves a void she can’t seem to fill on her own, no matter how many phone calls they share.

She knows it’s not his responsibility to fix her, but without even knowing it, Lando does it every time he looks at her. In those moments, pieces of her heart are welded back together, giving her hope that one day, maybe, it will be whole again.

Of course, things aren’t that easy.

She’s always been a loner, someone who enjoys her own company more than the chaos of others. This is why she doesn’t go with Lando to all of his races. Over time, they’ve developed their own rhythm, and it only works when they both put in the effort to be together. However, she knows that he often works for both of them. She also knows that it’s not right to let him do this, but she doesn’t know how to stop.

But being alone isn’t the same as being lonely, and lately, the loneliness feels like it’s swallowing her whole. She tries to keep busy, to distract herself with work or a new book, but the dark thoughts always find her; a cycle she can’t break. They usually creep in at night when she’s most vulnerable, whispering lies she can’t ignore.

You’re a burden.

He’d be better off without you.

Everyone would be better off without you.

In spite of everything, she knows she’s lucky, though. She has a roof over her head, food on the table, and someone who loves her. And, somehow, knowing that only makes her feel worse. Most of the times, the guilt is suffocating — a heavy weight that presses down on her chest until she can’t breathe. She’s tried to push the thoughts away, to drown them in work or meaningless distractions. She tried to be grateful. But tonight, like many other nights before, they’ve won.

When Lando steps into the apartment, the soft click of the door is echoing in the stillness. It’s late — later than he’d hoped — and he assumes she’s already asleep, because he texted her hours ago to let her know he was on his way, but there had been no reply.

Dropping his bag quietly by the door, he toes off his sneakers and glances toward the dimly lit living room. The faint glow of the city skyline filters through the curtains, casting muted shadows across the floor. He moves carefully, not wanting to wake her, with a simple plan in mind: slip into bed, wrap his arms around his girlfriend, and fall asleep to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

But something feels off.

On his way to the bedroom, he spots the balcony door slightly ajar. A cool breeze sneaks through the crack, carrying with it the faint scent of something acrid. He pauses, his brow furrowing as he approaches the glass door.

That’s when he sees her.

She’s out on the balcony, her back to him, legs dangling dangerously over the edge. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his mind struggling to process what he’s seeing. Then his gaze shifts, taking in the scene: some things are knocked over on the small table by the door, a small flacon of pills alongside a half-empty bottle of wine, and all the mess. The realization hits him like a physical blow, and his heart starts pounding in his chest.

But then, panic grips him as he slides the door open, stepping out onto the balcony. The sound startles her, and she turns her head slightly, her expression distant and unfocused. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s an eerie calmness about her that chills him to the core.

“Hey, is everything okay?” asks Lando, his voice soft as he crouches beside her, careful not to make any sudden movements. “What… baby, what are you doing out here?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, her gaze drifting back to the city below. The silence stretches, each second feeling heavier than the previous one.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, his voice slightly cracking. His eyes dart back to the table, to the pill bottle and the wine, and he feels a surge of anger mixed with fear. “Is this—fuck. Did you take these?”

She shakes her head, a small smile curving in the corner of her mouth. “I’m so tired, love,” she whispers finally, her voice shaking over the hum of the city.

Her words hit him like a punch in the gut, and he’s suddenly aware of how fragile she looks, and how close she is to the edge. His hands shake as he reaches for her, gently gripping her arm. His heart beats so hard that he feels it throughout his body — his ribcage, in his throat, in the hand he tightens around her, to make sure he’s holding her with enough force.

“Okay. That’s okay,” he says, his tone soft but urgent. “Let’s go inside, yeah? I’m tired too, we can rest together. What do you say?”

“No… no, it’s not—” she tries to speak, but her brain is clouded by a mental fog, and everything around her moves too quickly for her to catch up.

“Come on, can you step back? Please. For me?”

His last question is what jolts her back to reality. For him? She would do anything for him. Lando knows that, and she soon realizes that he is using it to emotionally blackmail her. He always does that, and it annoys her.

She raises her head to look at him, her tired eyes meeting his, and for a moment, Lando thinks she’ll comply. But then, she pushes his hand away, a trace of betrayal crossing his face.

“No. It’s pretty out here,” she says, gazing down at the world that simply exists under her feet. The distance makes her stomach clench, knowing that all it takes it’s a small misstep for everything to end. Still, she doesn’t move an inch.

“I see that, love,” he agrees, “But I want to talk to you, and I can’t do that unless I make sure you’re safe. Did you… do this before?”

She nods slowly, refusing to look at him.

At that, Lando exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm in his chest. He knows her enough to know when to push and when to give her space, only this time around, he’s met with a weird combination of both. Luckily, his body decides what to do before his mind agrees to it and, cautiously, he climbs up to join her on the edge, his hands gripping the cold railing as his pulse pounds in his ears.

Her head snaps toward him, her expression instantly shifting, panic flashing in her eyes. “No, what are you doing?” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“I’m with you,” he murmurs, his voice tender, laced with fear he’s desperately trying to hide. “If you’re staying here, then so am I.”

She blinks, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words come. Instead, her gaze softens, the wine-induced haze in her eyes clearing. Slowly, she lets out a shaky breath and sits down on the narrow ledge, her hands gripping the edge. Lando follows her lead, sitting close but careful not to crowd her, his knee brushing hers. He hesitates for a moment before gently reaching for her hand, and he exhales relieved when her fingers close around his, grounding both of them.

They sit in silence for a moment, the distant city lights flickering around them.

“I’ve missed you a lot, you know?” he finally whispers, his voice barely audible, breaking the quiet. “I never… If something happens, I don’t want to have to miss you all the time—”

“Lando, I know,” she cuts him off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she continues, staring at their joined hands. Her voice is small, guilt creeping into her tone.

He nods, looking at her, “Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Lando says gently. “I know I’m away a lot, but if you need me, I’ll do anything.”

Her grip on his hand tightens slightly just as she turns to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, tears pooling but not yet falling. “It’s not your fault, Lan. It’s me. I… don’t even know. There’s nothing wrong, but at the same time, nothing’s quite right, either.”

He shakes his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Don’t apologize for feeling. It just makes me think now, because I thought you trusted me,” says Lando, his words cutting through her like a knife through butter. “I trust you,” he adds, almost like pointing it out.

She knows he does, her mind instantly replaying the moments in her mind, the times he’d come to her with his struggles. When a race didn’t go his way, and he doubted everything he’d worked so hard for. When social media was brutal, tearing him apart with words that left invisible scars. When he felt hated and couldn’t understand why. He always talked to her, shared his pain, his fears, his insecurities. He let her in, trusted her completely. And now, here she was, shutting him out when he was only trying to do the same for her.

“Don’t say that…” she starts, but her voice catches, and her breath hitches. “I’m trying.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Lando says gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Can we, please, just go inside?”

The tears she’s been holding back for too long finally slip free, carving hot, silent paths down her cheeks. She looks up at him, her lips trembling as she whispers, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His expression softens, and without hesitation, he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles, mostly to show her that she didn’t. The gesture is so simple yet so full of love that it sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over her.

Lando doesn’t let go of her hand as he gently helps her to her feet, guiding her back inside the apartment. The night air clings to their skin, but it’s the quiet inside that feels even heavier. He doesn’t say much, just keeps her close, his touch steady and grounding as they make their way to the bathroom.

A little uncomfortable now, she leans against the doorframe, watching as Lando moves around, carefully. He runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand, adding just the right amount of bath salts from the container on the shelf. The pale lavender-scented steam begins to fill the space, creating a safe bubble for both of them.

When Lando finally looks back at her, his expression is warm and inviting, somehow hopeful. He steps closer, reaching out to gently cup her cheek, wiping away the tear stains that remain.

“You’re everything to me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over her skin before his hands move to the hem of her hoodie.

She doesn’t protest as he carefully lifts it over her head, his touch tender, his eyes never leaving hers. For a moment, she stands there, feeling vulnerable under his gaze, but there’s nothing but love in his expression.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out to return the gesture, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. His eyes stay locked on hers, silently reassuring her, grounding her in the best way possible. By the time she pushes the fabric off his shoulders, the weight in her chest feels a little lighter.

They step into the bath together, the warm water enveloping them like a soothing embrace. She settles between his legs, her back against his chest, and his arms come around her instinctively. There’s no rush, no need for words. It’s just them, surrounded by the quiet hum of the water and the soft glow of the candles Lando had lit earlier.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment before he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Promise you’ll talk to me next time?” he asks, his voice small but steady. “I know things won’t change overnight, I don’t expect them to. But I need to know you understand that I’m here for you. That I love you enough to listen, and feel everything with you.”

The words settle in her chest, heavy but necessary, like the first raindrops of a storm. For the first time in what feels like forever, she sees beyond the swirling chaos in her mind. The weight of his love and understanding wraps around her like the warmth of the water they’re sitting in. And then it hits her.

How life itself is the changing of seasons, a constant push and pull — a constant chaos. Sometimes, the sun will break through, lighting everything in gold. Other times, it will rain so hard she won’t see the way ahead. But Lando’s right. It will get better again. Then worse. And then better again. That’s the way it is for everyone. A relentless tide of ups and downs, joy and pain, hope and disappointments.

As she leans back into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, she realizes the most important thing: it isn’t always black or white. Sometimes, it’s a hazy gray — a space where the lines blur, where the answers aren’t clear, and the path you find yourself on feels impossibly difficult to navigate. But it’s in that in-between, in the murky middle, that having the right person beside you matters the most. Not to pull you into the light or demand you leave the shadows, but to sit with you in the dark, holding your hand, letting you know you’re not alone.

She swallows hard, her throat tight, but not from sadness this time. “I promise,” she finds the strength to whisper. Her breath catches, and she turns her head slightly to meet his gaze, tears still pooling in her eyes. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I—”

“You deserve everything, my love,” Lando assures her, his lips brushing her temple, before placing a tiny kiss there. “And I’ll make sure you get it.”

His definitive tone sends shivers down her spine.

She closes her eyes, feeling the water ripple softly around them, and holds on tighter, knowing that no matter what storms may come, the most important thing is that they won’t lose each other’s touch.

And that’s everything to her.

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[reidiot]

the fact that these were taken at strauss' funeral is still sending me through the stratosphere 💀💀

[reidiot]

if i don't watch criminal minds for one (1) day i'm starting to feel withdrawal symptoms is this normal

[reidiot]

this was so HOT 🤤🥵

Hiii i’ve seen your post about witting a book! Congrats!!! that’s awesomene!

i wanna add that me like the other anon loveeee your work!! and yes, your second chance ex lovers is pure gold!

can i request lando and ex lover reader having like an affair, they don’t know if they are together or not because they are in the same group of childhood friends and they grew up together, their families are like besties and they are forced to see eachother frequently even at family events but they’ve been screwing around every chance they get secretly snd none of their friends know , because they feel like it’s the only compromise for having eachother in their lives without complications and at some point during a party they are almost getting caught cause someone comes back home while they are doing it

idk if this is something you’d be willing to write! but i imagined like a good amount of banter and comedy but at the same time angst and passion!

LOVE UUU!! i’ll be queuing at the bookshop to buy your book as soon as it’s out!

Winning hand | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so, so much for supporting my work, you're the sweetest 😭🤍 I promise you guys will be the first to know if I manage to get my shit together and finally publish my project. Also, I know the party setting it's kind of basic for this type of request, but hopefully I didn't derail too far from what you've envisioned. Anyway, thanks again and happy reading ^^

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𐙚 summary ──── A little fiasco about childhood friends, second chances, and playing your cards right.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, unresolved tension, mentions of alcohol and drinking, confrontation and emotional conflict, fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, fluff & smut, Max, Ria, Ethan, Connor, and Morgan cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 7.8k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 30, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── That being said, this is the last LN⁴ one-shot of the year. Thank you so much for making the past 2 months more bearable for me, and hopefully we'll get to grow together into the next year. Take care of yourselves, spend as much time as you can with the people you love, and for the ones who sent requests my way, know that they're coming. Love you all, see you soon 🤍🎀

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

FOR MOST OF their lives, it had been innocent.

They’ve known each other since they were kids, their lives stitched together by years of memories together, family connections, and the kind of history that feels impossible to escape, no matter how hard they’ve tried. Their families were inseparable, and by extension, so were they — holidays, vacations, and every mundane day in between.

But time has only one direction, and a lot of things can change in a year, a month, a week, even a day.

For most of their lives, it had been innocent.

But then it wasn’t.

Somewhere along the way, the dynamic shifted between them. It didn't happen in a year, a month, a week or a day. Truth is, none of them actually knows the when, the how or the why.

The first kiss had been unexpected, born out of a summer evening and a bottle of stolen alcohol they’d shared in her dad’s wine cellar, hiding from their families. They were 16 at the time, and they never talked about it, not properly, but they never stopped either. Just like that, in time, they became each other's first in every possible way.

Their relationship — if you could even call it that — evolved into something undefined and intoxicating. Lots of stolen moments, late nights, whispered conversations, and fleeting touches behind closed doors. Now, it’s a game they both know how to play, the rules unspoken, but understood by both parties.

They dated once, a year ago, but it was way too complicated for them to keep pretending it was working. Too much time apart is never good — not when you try to build and maintain something.

They’re not together, not officially, but the pull is undeniable. Surprisingly, keeping their ‘complication’ a secret was exactly what they needed; it’s easier this way. Safer. A compromise they're both willing to make.

Max’s new place hums with energy, the low thrum of bass-heavy music blending seamlessly with the murmur of conversation and bursts of laughter.

The party sprawls across the open-plan living room, with clusters of people perched on couches, leaning against counters, or swirling drinks in their hands. Amidst the buzz, their group is huddled around the coffee table in the corner of the living room, playing Uno.

A few empty beer bottles and half-eaten bowls of chips clutter the table between them, innocent casualties of the night’s ongoing pulse.

“Lando, if you play another Draw Four, I swear I'm gonna jump on you,” Ria warns, narrowing her eyes at him. She’s leaned forward on her elbows, her focus razor-sharp despite the gin and tonic in her hand.

Lando grins, twirling a card between his fingers. “I’d like to see you try,” he teases, his eyes flickering over the table, but not before catching her gaze. It’s fleeting, just a split second, but it lingers in the tension between them.

She smirks, pretending not to notice, just as her stomach twists in a familiar, unwelcome way. “Just play your card, Norris,” she says, tilting her head.

“Don’t rush me, love,” he replies smoothly, the nickname slipping out so casually that it makes her heart stutter.

The others notice, of course — they always do. Connor snorts, nudging Ethan with his elbow, while Morgan rolls his eyes in exaggerated exasperation.

“Goodness gracious. Just go fuck already, and spare us, mate. Max’s gaming room is empty, anyway,” Morgan mutters, drawing laughs from everyone except the two people in question, and Max.

“No one is fucking in my gaming room, yeah?” says Max, throwing another card on the table, eyeing Lando up and down, while pointing a finger at his friend. “I'm serious, mate.”

“Jesus. Let’s jus focus on the game, people,” Lando chimes in, though the corner of his mouth twitches with amusement.

The cards pile up in the center, bright reds and blues clashing in a game that’s somehow both chaotic and competitive. Ria drops a Reverse with a flourish, grinning when it disrupts Ethan’s carefully planned move. Ethan groans, shoving his chair back and glaring at her.

“Fuck this game, mate. I’m out,” he says, getting up to leave, while the blonde girl starts laughing.

Half an hour later, the space gets smaller, quieter somehow, even with the hum of the party carrying on around them. The others have drifted away, absorbed in conversations or drinks, or conversations and drinks. Still, Lando and her are locked in their own little world as the game stretches into its final act.

They sit cross-legged on the floor, with the coffee table between them, the once-busy atmosphere around them reduced to white noise. She leans forward, elbow braced on the edge of the table, her gaze sharp and focused on her last two cards. Lando mirrors her posture, though there’s a lazy grin tugging at his lips, one that doesn’t quite match the intensity in his eyes as they flick between her and his hand.

“Don’t mess this up, Norris,” she warns, voice light but edged with challenge.

“I won’t, I won’t,” he replies smoothly, spinning a card between his fingers. “But you might.”

She narrows her eyes, “You’re so bluffing.”

“Am I?” his grin widens, his confidence unshakable.

The playful edge between them is now stained with something warmer, something they both pretend not to notice. When she plays her second-to-last card, her voice cuts through the air.

“Uno,” the girl announces, sitting up straighter, her smile gleaming with smug satisfaction.

Lando pauses, glancing at his cards. He has her — he can make her draw four, ruin her victory lap, and turn the game in his favor. It would be so easy. But as he looks up, he sees the way her eyes sparkle, the way her lips quirk into that small, victorious smile that makes his chest tighten in the best way. So, he hesitates. It’s not the game he cares about, not really. It’s her. Her joy, the way her confidence radiates when she wins, even at something as silly as a stupid card game. And right now, he realizes he’d rather lose a hundred games than take that away from her.

“Your move,” she prompts impatiently, tapping her fingers on the table.

Lando sighs dramatically, as if conceding defeat is the hardest thing he’s ever done. “Fine,” he says, laying down a harmless card.

Her last one hits the table with a loud slap, throwing her hands in the air. “And that’s how it’s done!”

Lando chuckles, leaning back on his hands. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Hm, maybe I am,” she replies, standing and pointing at him with mock authority, “But you’re still the loser, so clean that up,” she continues, gesturing at the mess of cards scattered across the table.

As he gathers the deck, watching her saunter off toward the kitchen, her smugness is practically radiating off her. He can’t help but smile, shaking his head.

Totally worth it.

A moment later, Lando gets up, glancing around to make sure no one’s paying attention. Then, his feet move almost of their own accord, following the path to the kitchen. When he steps inside, he finds her leaning against the counter, pouring herself another drink. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound sharp, letting her know she’s not alone anymore.

She finally turns, eyebrows raised, “Can you be more obvious than that?”

Lando leans back against the door, nodding his head while shoving his hands in his pockets, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Easily. But I thought I’d see if the reigning Uno champion needed anything.”

He moves towards her with a purpose that makes her heart beat faster. His eyes flick to the drink in her hand, and before she can react, Lando takes it gently from her fingers.

“You’ve had enough of this,” he says softly, a teasing lilt to his voice, though his gaze holds something deeper. He places the glass on the far counter, far enough that neither of them can easily reach it.

“Says who?” she asks, excited to provoke him.

“I say,” Lando's voice has so much determination behind it that it makes her swallow her own words.

Her breath catches as his hands hover near her waist, not quite touching but close enough to make her feel the heat of his presence. He shifts, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress, hesitant at first, as though testing her boundaries. At that, she tilts her head to look up at him, her fingers moving almost instinctively to touch his jawline.

“And who are you?” the girl finally asks.

The tension thickens in the air they’re sharing when her fingertips graze his skin, his jaw clenching beneath her touch. Lando inhales deeply, his eyes closing briefly before they lock onto hers again, darker than usual, filled with something raw.

“Come here,” says Lando in a low voice. “Find out.”

His hands finally land on her hips, lifting her with ease onto the counter. The cold surface beneath her contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from his body as he steps closer, slotting himself between her knees. After that, the world shrinks to just them, the space between their faces reduced to a tiny whisper. His nose brushes against hers, a soft, innocent gesture that makes her heart grow ten times in size. His breath fans over her lips, his words so quiet she almost misses them.

“You look beautiful tonight,” says Lando, his voice rough yet tender. “These past few weeks have been...” his voice trails off, swallowig the lump in his throat, “I’ve missed you.”

Her hands slide up his arms, fingers curling over his shoulders as she leans in, her lips brushing his as she whispers, “Then why didn’t you—”

Just as she’s about to scold him for ghosting her, the door flies open with a loud noise, making them both flinch.

“Where’s the beer?” Connor’s voice cuts through the charged silence, loud and boisterous as he stumbles into the kitchen, his grin as wide as it is oblivious.

Lando groans quietly, stepping back quickly, his expression shifting into something far more neutral. “In the fridge, mate,” he says, his tone calm and collected despite the storm she knows is still brewing inside him.

Connor doesn’t notice a thing, too busy rooting around in the fridge for another bottle.

She stays on the counter the entire time, her cheeks flushed and her breathing uneven as she tries to compose herself.

Lando shoots her a quick glance, his lips twitching into a small smirk before turning to help his friend, grabbing a beer from the fridge and handing it to Connor.

“Did you go blind all of a sudden? Here you go,” says Lando, pushing the bottle into his friend’s chest. “Let’s get you back before you clear out the entire stock.”

Connor laughs, slinging an arm around Lando’s shoulders as they head back to the living room. Lando glances over his shoulder one last time, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he disappears through the door.

A COUPLE OF hours later, the room roars with life, the bass vibrating through the floor as bodies move in sync with the beat. The air is heavy with the scent of different perfumes, energy drinks, and alcohol, the colored LEDs casting a kaleidoscope of light that bounces off the dancing crowd.

She lets herself get swept up in the chaos, her hand clasped in Ria’s as they spin each other around, their laughter cutting through the music. The rhythm is intoxicating, the tension from earlier forgotten as she moves, her body surrendering to the music completely.

And then, out of nowhere, she feels it — a pair of hands on her waist, big, warm, and so very familiar. She knows it’s him before she even turns, her breath catching as Lando’s presence envelops her. He doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls her closer to him, their bodies falling into an easy rhythm that feels as natural as breathing.

Her hands instinctively fly to his, their fingers intertwining as he holds her against him. Lando’s chest presses against her back, his breath warm against the side of her neck. He’s so much taller than her, his frame towering over her petite body, and she feels the possessiveness in the way his fingers grip her waist, anchoring her to his body like a keychain. It makes her stomach flip, enjoying it more than she should.

Her movements slow at the feeling, syncing to his as he takes control. Instinctively, Lando’s hips press against hers, and she feels the growing evidence of his desire through the thin fabric of her dress. Her heart skips a beat, a shiver running down her spine as he leans in, his lips brushing against her ear.

“You’re driving me wild,” he says, his voice rough, barely audible over the music. “Maybe we should take Ginge’s advice and disappear upstairs.”

She twists her head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his mischievous grin. “People will notice.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against her back. “So what?” he asks, continuing when he sees confusion painting her face, “No one’s paying attention,” says Lando, his tone dripping with confidence. “Just look around. Everyone’s too drunk to care.”

She doesn’t respond, her mind spinning as his lips brush against her ear again. His hands slide lower, cupping her ass through her dress, his touch firm while he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper.

“Coming or not?”

Before she can answer, he steps back, squeezing her hand for the briefest moment before letting it go, his body heat lingering like a ghost around her. He starts toward the stairs, his movements confident, knowing she’ll be the one to follow him this time.

Her heart pounds as she watches him disappear upstairs, her body torn between reason and his magnetic pull. But without even realizing it, her feet are moving, carrying her up the stairs after him.

Max’s gaming room is painted in a deep charcoal gray, accented by strips of LED lights glowing in soft blue. A triple monitor is mounted on one wall, the dark screens reflecting the faint light. A sleek gaming chair sits in the center of it all, surrounded by an array of high-tech equipment, from consoles to headphones hanging neatly on their stands. The shelves are lined with a few books, collectibles, trophies, and Lando's mini helmets throughout his Formula 1 seasons.

The centerpiece, though, is the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that span one entire wall, offering an uninterrupted view of the city skyline.

Lando waits leaning against the door frame, letting her enter first, a wry smile at the corner of his mouth. She steps inside hesitantly, her heels clicking softly against the polished wooden floor. The moment the door locks behind them with a quiet click, the silence is absolute, wrapping around them like a cocoon, realizing quickly that the room is soundproof.

She takes a few steps forward, her fingers trailing over the edge of the desk, the cool surface smooth beneath her touch. The faint scent of Max’s cologne lingers in the air, mingling with the faint hum of electronics on standby.

Lando watches her from afar, his arms crossed casually over his chest, but his eyes follow her every move. He doesn’t rush her, letting her explore the surroundings at her own pace.

Her fingers glide further over the back of the gaming chair, then along the edge of a shelf, before finally coming to rest on the thick glass of the window. She gazes out at the city, her reflection faintly visible against the backdrop of twinkling lights. The view is breathtaking, but she barely notices, her focus drawn inward by the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

Lando moves silently behind her, his presence warm and solid as his arms wrap around her waist. His hands are firm but gentle, sliding down over her hips before slipping under the hem of her dress. His fingertips trace small patterns against her soft skin, igniting a fire that spreads through her body.

She turns to face him, her arms traveling up to wrap around his neck. Her fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging gently as she looks up at him. With a small sigh, her eyes search his, finding a tenderness there that makes her heart ache.

Lando’s hands shift lower, gripping her thighs as he lifts her effortlessly. She gasps, her back pressing against the cool glass of the window. He presses his lips to her collarbone, then lower to the heated skin of her chest, his breath hot against her.

Her fingers bury deeper in his hair, pulling his head up so their eyes meet again. The tension between them snaps as she pulls him into a kiss, profound and purposeful, her lips moving against his with a desperation that matches the fire building between them.

Lando’s breath hitches as her hips press into his, the intentional movement sending a jolt of heat through his body. Without breaking their kiss, he adjusts his grip on her, his strong hands supporting her thighs as he walks them both across the room. She clings to him, her fingers threading through his hair, her lips trailing along his jawline as he walks to the plush armchair tucked near the bookshelf. He sinks into it with her still in his arms, her body fitting perfectly on his lap.

The girl shifts, her knees on either side of his hips as she settles in, her dress riding up slightly. Her hands move to the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing them one by one, exposing the tanned skin beneath. Her lips follow the path of her hands, leaving a trail of wet kisses along his chest. She lingers on the curve of his collarbone, her tongue flicking out to taste him, eliciting a low whimper from his throat. Lando leans back into the chair, letting her take her time, his head tilted slightly to watch her with hooded eyes, dark and full of want.

“Enjoying yourself?” he speaks softly, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

She smirks against his skin, her fingers grazing over the muscle of his chest as she hums in response, “Very much. What about you?”

As a response, his hands slide down to cup her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he helps guide her movements. Slowly, deliberately, he grinds her hips against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of them. She gasps, her head tipping back as he presses her harder against his growing length.

“Lando,” she whispers, her voice breathy, almost pleading.

He smiles, leaning forward to nip at the sensitive skin of her neck, his hands never stopping their rhythm. “What is it, love?” he teases, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

The shift in her demeanor is instant, the energy between them going from electric to tense in a heartbeat. Her body stiffens at the word ‘love’, and she pulls back, her expression shuttered. Lando frowns, confused, the heat in his body still thrumming, but now accompanied by a gnawing sense of dread.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice cautious now.

She shakes her head, slipping off his lap and smoothing her dress, avoiding his gaze on purpose. “Nothing. I just—I need a moment.”

Still sitting, his confusion is mixing with a rising sense of panic. He’s half-hard, his shirt unbuttoned, his heart pounding, but all of that pales compared to the way she’s looking anywhere but at him.

“Wait,” says Lando, standing quickly, his brows knitting together. “What’s going on? Did I do something?”

“It’s nothing,” she replies, slightly annoyed, her tone clipped as she turns away from him.

“It’s not nothing,” he counters, taking a step closer. His voice is gentle, but there’s an edge of desperation behind it. “Please, talk to me? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

She exhales sharply, her arms wrapping around herself as she keeps her back to him. “I said I need a moment, Lando.”

The way she won’t look at him stings more than he wants to admit.

“A moment for what?” asks Lando, frustration creeping into his tone. “To avoid me? What the hell did I do?”

That’s when she snaps, spinning around to face him, her eyes blazing. “Fine, you want to know? Stop calling me love.”

He blinks, thrown by the venom in her tone. “What?”

“You don’t mean it. You never do,” she says, her voice trembling, though her anger is steady. “You say it because it’s convenient. Because it fits the moment. And it's pissing me off.”

His jaw tightens, and he crosses his arms at his chest, his confusion giving way to irritation. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you?” she fires back, stepping closer. “Then how come you throw it around like it’s nothing, Lando? All the damn time, it drives me insane.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling sharply. “I’ve never treated you like nothing. Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

“Then stop acting like words are enough,” she fires back, her voice rising. “Because they’re not. You don’t get to call me something like that just because you’re horny or because it sounds good in the moment. It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” he repeats, incredulous. “What about what’s fair to me? What about all the times I’ve shown you that you’re not just some hookup? That you actually matter to me? Come on, why are you like this?”

Her laugh is harsh, bitter. “Shown me? Lando, you’re all talk. Always have been.”

“See, now that’s not fair,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “You were the one who said it’s better to stay just friends, then did nothing to stop me when I came to you. You know I'll always come to you. So, don’t put that on me, because it’s not the case.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” she retorts. “I’d have trouble believing you even if you fell on your knees in front of me, because you’re always just talk. You never follow through, not really. That’s why it’s better to stay just friends.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he just stares at her, his chest heaving.

Then, slowly, as if the weight of her accusation has physically buckled him, Lando sinks to his knees. Her breath catches as she watches him, stunned. He wraps his arms around her waist, holding her tightly, his head resting against her stomach. When he looks up at her, his eyes are glassy, as if he tries to keep his emotions under control, but failing at it.

“I’m not just talk,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’m here, right now. What more do you need from me?”

Her hands hover in the air, uncertain, before they come to rest gently on his shoulders. She looks down at him, her anger ebbing away, replaced by something softer, something aching.

“I need you to mean it,” she whispers.

“I do,” he rushes to say, his grip tightening around her.

As a desperate gesture, Lando presses his lips to her bare thighs. The tension between them shifts for the hundredth time tonight, softening with every kiss he leaves on her skin. Each touch feels reverent, as if he’s trying to carve his devotion into her body — for her to feel it and for the world to see it.

“You’re it for me,” he speaks against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. He glances up at her, his eyes unguarded. “You always were. Ever since we were kids.”

She swallows hard, the warmth of his words sinking into her as he continues, “You’re the only one who knows me, really knows me. You’ve seen every side of me — the good, the bad, the stupid — all of it. And I know you. I know everything about you, the things you don’t tell anyone else. We’ve always had that, haven’t we? Something no one else could touch.”

Her chest tightens as his words hit home. His hands slide down her legs, his thumbs brushing over her skin as if he’s trying to ground himself in her.

“I hate that I couldn’t make it work the first time,” says Lando, his voice breaking slightly. “I hate that I didn’t try harder. But even after all that, I can’t stay away from you. You can’t either,” he points out. “You’re the only one who’s ever mattered, and you know it. Fuck it, our friends know it. They see it. They see what I see — that you’re mine, and I’m yours, no matter how much we fight it.”

His lips graze her inner thigh now, and she shivers, her breath hitching at the intensity of his words and the way his hands never stop caressing her. “Of course I love you,” whispers Lando, the confession hanging in the air between them. “I always have. I’d be crazy not to.”

Tears blur her vision as she listens, her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, she lifts his chin with her fingers, forcing him to look at her. Lando’s eyes are desperate, pleading, searching hers for a hint of understanding.

“Believe me,” he begs, his voice barely above a whisper.

She takes a shaky breath in, her gaze locked with his. Then, without a word, she presses the sharp point of her high heel into his thigh — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a message. He smirks faintly, understanding, and moves to help her slide the shoes off her feet.

When she stands, now smaller without the height of her heels, he rises to his full height, towering over her. The look on his face is equal parts adoration and hunger, and she reaches for his shirt, her fingers skimming his skin as she pushes it off his shoulders. The fabric falls to the floor in a forgotten heap, and he steps closer, their bodies almost touching.

His hands find her waist again, his thumbs brushing the curve of her hip as she moves to unbutton his jeans. Their breaths come faster as they help each other shed the rest of their clothes, the tension and passion between them building with each passing second.

They stumble back toward the chair, their movements uncoordinated but instinctive. He lowers her onto the seat, her body sinking into the plush fabric as he follows, hyperaware of the way they fit together so perfectly. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like coming home, and as he presses his forehead to hers, they both know there’s no going back from this — this is it.

Lando kneels again, his eyes never leaving hers as his hands slide down her thighs with purpose. His grip is firm while he pulls her to the edge of the chair, his strength undeniable yet gentle, a combination that sends a shiver through her. The soft fabric of the chair cushions her, but there’s nothing soft about the way Lando handles her — decisive and full of intent.

She stops breathing when he spreads her legs wider, his large hands gripping her thighs to keep her steady for him. His gaze flickers to her core, full of hunger. She’s trembling under his touch, gripping the arms of the chair for stability just as he leans forward.

The first touch of his tongue is hot, firm, and rushed. He parts her folds with his fingers, collecting her wetness, and spreads it with an audible slickness that makes her gasp. His eyes flick up to hers, a smirk ghosting across his lips before he dives in again. His tongue moves like he knows her, like he’s memorized every spot that makes her whimper in pleasure. He alternates between slow, languid strokes and quick flicks on her clit, keeping her on the edge of control. Her hips move involuntarily, rocking against him, chasing the feeling that’s building deep inside her.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaking.

He squeezes her thigh with one hand, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave faint marks, grounding her. The silent message is clear: Let me take care of you. His other hand moves back between her legs, his fingers finding her clit with expert precision, circling it in time with his tongue.

She’s helpless against the onslaught, her body arching as the sweet feeling builds to an unbearable peak. Her breaths come faster, her hands gripping the blanket that’s resting on the arm of the chair, so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Lando groans against her, the vibration of the sound shooting straight through her, pushing her even closer to the edge.

“Oh, shit,” she gasps, her hips jerking as his tongue works her over. “I'm—fuck, Lando. What are you—”

Her string of unfinished thoughts makes his heart race, Lando’s hand tightening on her thigh on instinct, holding her close as she lifts her hips to meet his movements. His name spills from her lips again, a desperate cry this time, and he redoubles his efforts, only to push her over the edge.

His fingers curl inside her, pressing against that perfect spot that makes her jaw drop, her thighs quivering against his shoulders. The rhythm of his hand is relentless, a steady pulse that syncs perfectly with the deliberate flicks of his tongue against her clit. The contrast of sensations — the firm stretch of his fingers and the velvety warmth of his mouth — overwhelms her, pulling her further into bliss.

Every nerve in her body feels like it’s on fire, the tension in her core winding tighter with every stroke of his fingers, and every gentle suction from his lips.

The only anchor she has left is him — the man whose name she can’t stop moaning, the man who knows her body like he owns her.

He groans against her wetness, and the smug satisfaction in his chest grows. He loves the way she falls apart for him, the way her voice trembles when she says his name like a prayer. He loves knowing he’s the one unraveling her, that he has this power over her, that she’s utterly his, in the end.

“Come on, baby,” says Lando, his lips brushing her sensitive skin between kisses. “Let me taste you.”

Her body obeys before her mind does, a shuddering gasp escaping her lips as her climax crashes over her. Her walls clamp around his fingers, and her hips jerk uncontrollably against his mouth as he continues, drawing every last ripple of pleasure from her. She’s not in Max’s room anymore, she’s not even on this planet; she’s somewhere far beyond, floating weightlessly in the haze of ecstasy, and the only word that lingers in her mind, that passes through her lips in breathless repetition, is his name.

He watches her losing it, utterly mesmerized by her beauty. The way her face contorts with pleasure, the way her body trembles beneath his hands — it’s everything to him.

Lando slows his movements as she begins to come down, his fingers slipping out of her gently, his tongue tracing delicate, feather-light circles over her oversensitive clit before he finally pulls away. A thin string of saliva mixed with her release connects his mouth to it, glistening in the low light as he leans back, the sight almost obscene. He pauses for a moment, his chest heaving, before lifting a hand to wipe his mouth, the corner of his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

She’s a mess, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed. And he’s never felt more proud and content than he does in this moment, knowing he gave her that.

He presses a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, his fingers tracing the faint marks he left there, before looking up at her, satisfied.

“You okay?” asks Lando, his voice husky.

Instead of using her words, she pulls him in without hesitation, her fingers threading through his curls as their lips collide. The kiss is passionate yet lazy, since she is too spent to rush it. Her legs wrap around Lando, anchoring herself to him, and he rises with her in his arms like she weighs nothing at all. The motion is seamless, natural, as if their bodies are following a script written long ago. He settles back into the chair, drawing her onto his lap. She feels him beneath her, hard and eager, his arousal pressing insistently against her.

She brushes a hand over his chest, letting her fingers trail down his stomach before wrapping them gently around his cock. Lando shudders under her touch, his breath hitching as her thumb brushes over the sensitive tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum, and without breaking eye contact, she lifts her thumb to her mouth. She sucks gently, her lips closing around the digit, her tongue swirling as if savoring the taste. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, the sight of her making his chest tighten, and his breathing grows uneven.

“Are you planning to kill me?” he rasps, his voice strained, filled with both awe and desire.

“No, I'm planning to let you fuck me,” she replies in a teasing voice, the words like silk against his ear.

Lando exhales sharply, “Same thing.”

She laughs at his failed attempt to breathe normally, “Unless you want me to return the favor first?”

Lando shakes his head, his hands tightening on her hips as his gaze locks onto hers. “No,” he says in a definitive tone, his voice rough with want. “Need to be inside you.”

Her heart stutters at the intensity in his eyes, and she doesn’t hesitate when he lifts her slightly, positioning her over him. His hands grip her thighs firmly as he lowers her on his throbbing cock, inch by inch, the stretch stealing the air from both of their lungs. They moan in unison, their bodies adjusting to the sweet connection.

She doesn’t move right away. Instead, she rests her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply as her arms wrap around his neck. They stay like that, breathing together, their bodies perfectly still. Then, Lando presses his face into hers, his lips brushing her skin as if to remind himself how lucky he is.

His hands stroke her back, steady and reassuring, while they let the moment grow between them, until she breaks the silence.

“I love you, too,” she whispers against his shoulder, her voice filled with emotion.

Her words break something open in him, and he pulls her tighter against his chest, his hands sliding up to cradle the back of her head. “I know,” he replies softly. “I feel you.”

She starts to move then, her hips rolling tentatively, as if savoring every second of him. Lando’s hands guide her, his grip firm but gentle, his thumbs pressing into her waist to set a measured pace. The chair creaks softly beneath them, the quiet rhythm of their movements filling the space. Her lips part with every motion, her breath spilling out in uneven gasps as the pleasure builds slowly but surely.

Her body trembles above him, her thighs quivering as she moves, their pace instinctively increasing. There’s a grace to her movements, a natural rhythm that leaves Lando utterly hypnotized. She does it so effortlessly, driven not just by the guidance of his hands but by her own want and need.

His gaze is locked on her, drinking in every detail — the flush of her cheeks, the way her lips part with soft, breathless moans, the mesmerizing sway of her body. His eyes drop to her chest, captivated by the way her tits bounce with every rise and fall. His restraint snaps, and he leans forward without thinking, his mouth finding one of her nipples.

He wraps his lips around the sensitive peak, sucking gently at first before his tongue flicks against it. Her breath grows rapid, her movements faltering for just a brief second as her hands fly to his shoulders for balance. His hands tighten on her waist, his thumbs pressing into her soft skin as if urging her to keep going.

“Lando,” she breathes, her voice shaking with pleasure, the sound shooting straight through him. Her pace quickens again, spurred on by the heat of his mouth and the steady pressure of his hands guiding her. He groans against her skin, the vibration sending a shiver through her as the tension between them builds to a fever pitch. “Look at me,” she orders gently.

Lando lifts his head, her eyes meeting his, while his hands move on her hips.

“Fuck, you feel amazing. Taking it so well, baby,” he groans, his head falling back briefly before his gaze snaps back to hers. “Wanna have you like this everyday.”

Her walls flutter around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips. Her thighs are burning from the effort, but she doesn’t stop. She’s driven by his words, and the way he looks at her, as if she’s his entire world.

The pressure inside her builds rapidly, her breath hitching with every movement. She leans forward, her lips brushing his ear. “Mhm, Lan,” she gasps, her voice barely audible. “Baby, I—I can’t—”

“You can, love,” he whispers fiercely, his voice both a command and a promise. “You can, come on,” he repeats. “Don’t you wanna be good for me, hm?”

All she can do is nod at him.

The tip of his cock presses so deeply inside her that it feels like he’s imprinted on her very soul, the sensation overwhelming and all-consuming. Her walls begin to squeeze him tightly, the pulsing waves of her climax gripping him with a force that borders on unbearable bliss. The pleasure is blinding, leaving her completely undone as her cries echo in the quiet room, her nails digging into his shoulders as she collapses against his chest.

Lando moans deeply, the sound rough and guttural, his body tense as he holds her trembling frame. Her pussy keeps hugging his length, pulling him deeper into her, and he feels the hot rush of her release spill over their joined bodies, making everything slick and impossibly intimate. Her hips jerk involuntarily, riding out the aftershocks, and he feels every tremor, every pulse, sending him spiraling toward his own breaking point.

He grips her tightly, his fingers pressing into her as he thrusts upward, his movements growing erratic and desperate. He’s lost in the way she feels around him, how perfectly she fits, how her body milks him without mercy.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he rasps as he chases the same release that’s stolen her breath. “Say yes, please. Let me fuck you like this everyday. Holy fucking shhhit.”

Her head rests against his shoulder, her lips brushing against his neck while she moans weakly as he fucks his cock deeper. It’s too much and not enough all at once, until he drives into her one final time before he lets go. A deep, shuddering moan escapes his throat as his release overtakes him, his cock throbbing inside her, filling her completely as his hips stutter against hers. He’s still holding her tightly, their bodies locked together, both of them shaking as the last waves of pleasure ripple through them, leaving them spent and sated in the afterglow.

The room gets silent again, except for their labored breathing.

Then, he finds the strength to finally speak, “Say yes?” asks Lando in a whispered voice, his lips brushing against her temple.

She lifts her head, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips as her eyes meet his. “We’ll talk about it.”

THE MORNING LIGHT filters through the edges of the curtains in Max’s gaming room, bathing the space in a muted gray.

Lando stirs first, his head lolling against the back of the chair as consciousness pulls him out of his sleep. His arms tighten instinctively around the warm weight sprawled on top of him; she’s still asleep, her cheek pressed to his bare chest, the soft rise and fall of her breathing steady and comforting.

As he shifts slightly to ease the stiffness in his back, she stirs too, nuzzling her face deeper against him with a sleepy hum.

“Hey,” Lando murmurs, his voice raspy from sleep, as his hand comes up to brush through her hair, his fingers threading lazily through the strands. His touch is warm and intimate, a silent comfort in the quiet morning.

But his hand doesn’t stop there, though. It drifts lower, skimming over her bare shoulder and along the curve of her chest. He cups her breast gently, his palm warm against her skin, and a contented sigh escapes him as his eyes fall closed again. His thumb brushes over her nipple, the gesture instinctive and tender, as if he’s memorizing every part of her even in his half-asleep state.

She lets out a little whimper, her eyes fluttering open just enough to squint up at him. “Too early,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against his skin, sighing at his touch.

Lando chuckles, “Pretty sure it’s almost lunch.”

She tilts her head up slightly, her sleepy gaze meeting his, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “Max is going to kill us. To death,” she says, managing to get another high-pitched chuckle out of him.

“Only if he catches us,” he replies, leaning his head back against the chair and grinning.

She laughs, “We better get out of here before he does, then.”

Reluctantly, they untangle themselves from the cocoon of the blanket draped over them and get dressed lazily. Lando’s eyes trail over her, unabashedly watching as she smooths her dress down and runs her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it.

“Stop staring,” she teases, turning to look at him as she gathers the blanket.

“Can’t help it,” he replies, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “I’m actually so in love with you.”

“Shut up,” she huffs, her cheeks flushing a soft pink as she turns away, trying to avoid his gaze.

He steps closer, his hand brushing her arm to stop her. “Don’t hide. Let me see you,” he says softly, his tone playful but laced with sincerity.

She rolls her eyes but smiles, giving him a playful shove before turning to fold the blanket and place it neatly on the chair. But before she can move away, Lando grabs her wrist and tugs her back into his arms, wrapping them snugly around her waist. He looks down at her, his eyes still heavy with sleep but filled with a softness that makes her heart flutter.

She turns around, her fingers reaching up to lazily comb through his curls, smoothing the messy strands as if styling them would make him look any less irresistible. His lips quirk into a crooked smile, but before he can tease her, he leans in, capturing her mouth with his.

His morning kisses are warm and soft, unhurried and tender, as though time itself has paused just for them. His lips move against hers with a lazy, intoxicating rhythm, and her hands slide up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers.

When they finally pull back, her eyes flicker down to his lips, still swollen from their kiss. She presses her fingertips lightly against his mouth, silencing whatever playful remark he was about to make.

“Don’t ruin it,” she says, her voice teasing but low, and Lando smiles, his arms tightening around her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers.

As they leave the room, Lando leans down to press one more kiss to her temple, his hand lingering on the small of her back as he gestures for her to go ahead of him. She glances back at him with a smirk but obliges, descending the stairs quietly.

The living room looks like a crime scene. Connor is sprawled across the couch, one arm hanging limply off the side, his face half-buried in a throw pillow. At his feet, Morgan is curled into a tight ball, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head. Ethan lies on the floor nearby, clutching a plush ball as if it’s a lifeline, his body surrounded by a meticulously arranged outline of plastic cups.

She stifles a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as she looks back at Lando. In response, he shakes his head, his own lips twitching with amusement.

“Do you think someone planned the cup thing, or did Ethan just fall into it?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Knowing this lot, I’d bet on both,” Lando replies, his grin widening.

They tiptoe towards the coffee table, careful not to disturb the fragile peace as Lando starts looking for his phone and keys. The clinking of glass and the shuffle of objects are the only sounds until he accidentally knocks over an empty bottle, the crash breaking the silence like a firework.

Connor bolts upright on the couch, his wavy hair sticking out at odd angles as he squints blearily around the room. “Fuck’s sake, mate.”

From then on, the movement triggers a chain reaction.

Ethan startles, knocking over the cups around him with a cacophonous clatter that echoes through the house. Morgan stirs next, groaning loudly as he stretches out on the floor.

“Fuck outta here,” Morgan mumbles, his voice muffled by his hood.

Before anyone can fully process the chaos, Max appears in the living room, his hair disheveled and his face twisted in an expression of sleep-deprived annoyance. His gaze sharpens when he sees his friends, taking in their rumpled clothes, her hastily tied hair, and the suspiciously guilty expressions on both their faces. His brows knit together in dawning realization.

“I have one question, and then I’ll erase everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours from my memory,” Max points a finger between them, his gaze narrowing.

She stiffens, her eyes darting to Lando, who is already trying to concoct some sort of defense.

“In my new gaming room?”

The silence that follows is deafening, until Morgan breaks it. “Bet’s a bet, Maxy boy,” he calls after Max in a sleepy voice as he storms out, mumbling in disbelief.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[reidiot]

charles apologising for not being enough after going from p19 to p3 will haunt me for the rest of my life

[reidiot]

this aged gracefully 🖤

she's a 10, but her mental health depends on charles leclerc winning at least one (1) race this season (pretty please)

[reidiot]

thanks for the heads-up. the internet never disappoints :///

Just to warn you guys, there are now blogs here fully stealing content from blogs and then using them to link porn sites!!

pretty sure @/friedcloudcupcake is one of them! pls do NOT CLICK ON THE READ MORE!!!

Pls reblog fr reach!! The same posts keep showing up bcz they're ripping somebody's post office every 10 mins

/ @racingline3 @reidiot

[reidiot]

i need ollie to comment condolences

[reidiot]

lestappen is holding hands behind checo ❤💙

[reidiot]

corporate needs you to find the difference between these pictures.