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#watching a team win without you

chaconnenha · 2 months

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⌇ WANNA BE A WINNER 𓄹

❪ ꕤ ❫───엔하이픈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍

OR. he is used to you chasing after him . . . so what happens when the tables are turned ? && crush!en- x f!reader % hc format ( jealousy, pet names, mention of food, kissing )

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 doesn't think twice when he sees you on the bleachers at his basketball game, because he's gotten so used to seeing you there, cheering him on whenever he scores and waving enthusiastically when he looks your way... only to find himself doing a double take when he notices you talking to the members of the opposition's team. stands there for a while with a tilted head as he wonders why it is you're giggling and twirling your hair, batting your eyelashes at whatever it was the guy was saying. and he really shouldn't have been so annoyed, seeing as you're free to talk to whoever you like... but for some reason, he finds himself purposely missing a shot and causing the ball to roll over to where you and your friends are sitting, just so he has an excuse to walk over there after your pick up the ball, before kissing you on the cheek as he takes ball back. "thanks, baby," he says, before walking away again.... but of course, not without one last cocky smirk to the other guy when he sees your flustered expression, and a promise to ask you out properly after he wins this game.

more under the cut !

𝐉𝐀𝐘, who has gotten used to seeing snacks on his desk along with little notes whenever he wakes up from his nap, feels like he's been thrown into an alternate universe when he looks up one day to find that his desk his completely empty. looks around, and asks his deskmate if you came by today, only for them to shake their head and say that they haven't seen you all day. doesn't think too much about it at first, thinking that you may be busy... only to notice that it continues a few days straight. decides to walk to your class one day, completely forgoing his usual nap, just to see if you're okay, because as much as he wouldn't admit it, anyone could tell he was worried about you. so imagine his surprise when he walks up behind you while you're talking to your friends, just to learn you've been doing it on purpose to make him miss you. crosses his arms and leans down to your ear with a smirk, causing your heart to fly out of your chest when you realise he was there all along. "okay, you win." because he really did miss you... maybe even more than you had planned.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 probably takes a while to figure out that you're avoiding him, but only because he genuinely believes you when you say you're busy when he asks why you can't make it to his soccer game. he knows that you have a life outside of school, so he can't feel upset... but everyone (his teammates, his friends, his coach, his neighbour, his dog...) notices that he is walking around the field like a depressed puppy whose owner doesn't want to play with him, and it's all because you're not in your usual seat, cheering him on while wearing his number like you usually do. and it makes him realise just how much you were becoming his lucky charm, just as you had boldly proclaimed you would be. and so that's how he finds himself waiting for you after you're finished your classes for the day, before wrapping his arms around you in a hug, not caring about the wolf whistles and the cheers coming from all the students and teachers who stood watching around you, or the way you stuttered his name in protest because of how he was acting in public... all he could think about was how he was a fool for not making you his to begin with.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 can't remember when you haven't been next to him. from the first day of school, you were the one beside him, helping him in class whenever he had to catch up on work that he missed because of his figure skating career, saving him a seat on the bus because you knew he would always end up being five minutes late out of class. so when he comes back from a week off from school, he is visibly taken aback when you walk in and take a seat at the front of the classroom, next to some other guy who he didn't even know existed until now. doesn't buy it for a second when his new seatmate explains that you had to switch because you had trouble seeing, and burns holes into the back of your head for the entire lesson, intensifying his glare when you and your new seatmate are a tad too close for comfort, heads bumping against each other as you whisper about the answers to the questions, like you used to do with sunghoon. can't seem to catch you alone for the rest of the day, so he waits for the end of the day, when you guys catch the bus together, and makes sure that he gets there before you do... so that when you try and sit next to someone else, he pulls you down in the seat he saved next to him, before leaning his head on your shoulder, his hand wrapped around your smaller one. "stay here, please..." because you’re the only one he wants beside him, and he wants to be the only one next to you.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 knows immediately that something isn't right when you don't ask for his help with your club projects. being in the photography club, you love to remind him how he is your favourite model, and you make it painfully obvious whenever you beg him to let you take his pictures. imagine his surprise and offense when you no longer seek him out first, but some other guy in a different class, who you keep positing pictures of on the school newsletter, where you used to post his pictures instead. he instantly makes a plan to win you back and become your favourite once again, even going as far as to rock up to school the next day with blonde hair that makes everyone stop and stare... except you, the person who is usually the first to jump on the train of people to praise him. he realises at that moment that this goes beyond just his pride; he genuinely just wants to be able to make you smile like before. so imagine your surprise when you open the newsletter for the next week, to find a candid photo of you looking at your camera, hair blowing in the wind and a smile on your face, with the caption "prettiest girl in our grade" followed by, "taken by kim sunoo".

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 does not beat around the bush. so the first time you walk by him in the hallway without so much as uttering a "hi," he immediately knows he needs to confront you about it, because not a single day has passed in the time that you've known each other where you haven't jumped on him (figuratively, of course) whenever the chance arises so you can chat his ear off about something or other. and he doesn't like the feeling he gets seeing you give him the cold shoulder for reasons he has no idea about. so the next time you pass him by without saying anything, he's grabbing your wrist and tugging you down the hallway, ignoring the squeals from your friends as he pulls you into the janitor's closet. "why are you avoiding me?" he demands, frowning. but then the two of you are rendered blushing incoherent messes when you try to escape the room... only to trip on your own two feet and fall into his arms, your lips bumping against each other in the process. (but even though it's an accident, jungwon thinks that he really likes this feeling alot.)

𝐍𝐈-𝐊𝐈 is an absolute menace, and you are probably one of the only people in the world other than his mother that can put up with him. it really surprises people to see you follow him around, cooking him bentos and fixing his tie for him because he always fails at doing it himself, only to find out that you're not his girlfriend. ni-ki himself probably doesn't even realise how much you've been taking care of him until you stop showing your face around his classroom at lunch, and no longer nag him about his uniform or his hair being messy. instead, he's left to watch as you turn around whenever you see him, purposely changing paths so you don't bump into each other. no one is surprised when he jumps over a fence just so he can catch up to you after you try to run away after making eye contact with him for the hundredth time. you end up blurting your feelings for him before he can ask, and while you brace yourself for rejection, he's already kissing you like he hasn't seen you for months... and wondering why he never did it sooner.

3K notes · View notes

fairene · 2 days

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one of your girls / ln4, part two

lando norrisxfem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

part one

a/n ⋯ I LIED IT'S COMING OUT NOW!!! i sat down for 'bout four hours after work and a family dinner to knock this the fuck OUTTTT. it's shorter than i expected, but this was the best way i could wrap up this supposed 'oneshot'. i hope you all enjoy it. and remember, it is up to YOU for what you are wearing, clothes are intentionally vaguely described for your own viewing pleasure. and tbh, i did not proof read this...don't sue me!!! I JUST WAnted it out asap for everyone@!!! pls don't let it flop!!!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, possession, jealousy.

wc ⋯ 13.7k (unedited!)

he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. weeks. it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t know that the girl would come back, he didn’t know she would be a bitch, and he certainly didn’t know you would react that way. to his ultimate surprise, it was a comfort knowing that you did care. however sick and twisted it was, it told him without using your words, that you wanted something.

things had been left unsaid between the pair of you for a long time. too long. he was never in the business of guessing your feelings, assuming that you felt one way or another about him. and neither were you. both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good. neither of you could see what was right in front of you–

each other.

and that was the worst part for lando. it had him pushing himself harder. faster. to be better to perhaps catch your attention. to win you back through his ability to race. but you didn’t care about that. you didn’t care about how fast he drove his car, didn’t care about the number of podiums he got. you cared about him. but you never let the words fall upon his ears, and that was your first mistake.

it was the weekend in spain. warm, but not too humid, you traveled with alexandra and the rest of the ferrari hospitality team. you had gotten close to carlos’ girlfriend, rebecca, as well. they were both great company and more times than not, lando had slipped from your mind completely.

but not for him.

he was a mess. a wreck without you. guilt consumed him night and day, and he would feel eternally wrought with what could have been. he’s called you, texted you, even had oscar reach out to you, but there was nothing but radio silence and the bolded words ‘read’ beneath his sent messages. it hurt more knowing that you saw him suffering and did nothing about it.

but he deserved it. he deserved this treatment. he wasn’t going to fight you. he would roll over, belly up like a good boy for you. pay attention to me, his actions would scream. look in my direction. but you didn’t even view his stories on social media anymore. didn’t even like his posts.

the british driver would be found pacing back and forth, staring hunchback at his phone. oscar would watch him from across the room, legs dangling from the papaya barstool. he hated to see lando this way, but he knew what he did. lando was honest with oscar, hoping to maybe seek advice in his own girlfriend. but lily simply shrugged her shoulders and her expression said enough.

you did this to yourself.

but little did you know is that he threw that girl out the moment you left. okay, not literally, but in ever metaphoric way possible. he never contacted her again. he hadn’t contacted any girl, in fact, these past few weeks. he would be isolated with his PR team at every occasion, refusing to even entertain the thought of hitting up a new girl.

his loyalty to you was suddenly unwavering, but it was too late.

“mate,” oscar said from where he sat. lando didn’t look up, just hummed, staring at your last text to him.

‘you’re too sweet,’

too sweet. what would you say now? you had replied to a set of merchandise he saved for you, special edition for miami’s grand prix, and that had been it. from you. he had to scroll down through the text chain to reach the bottom. his endless apologies, desperate words, and more apologies. he felt nauseous. sick that he ever treated you that way.

his favorite girl. his girl.

“she’s here.”

what?

lando’s head snapped up, looking frantically around. but there was no sign of you.

“with alexandra. ferrari paddock.” oscar gestured his phone towards lando. he snatched it from him, letting his eyes fly across the photo. it was a picture of you, rebecca, and alexandra. posted on alexandra’s instagram story.

you looked…

happy.

he…

he didn’t know why he was upset by that. he wanted you to feel the same level of anger, sadness, distress, even. but here you were– looking absolutely beautiful with your bright smile. so fucking beautiful. he remembers he was there when you picked out that top. and god, he was right, it’s meant for you.

lando threw oscar’s phone back at him, and knew this would be a long fucking weekend.

barcelona’s air had been clean. much cleaner than miami, new york. the decor of the paddock, too, had you thinking and trailing your fingers over the textures. you had done that more– feeling the things around you. you used to do that with lando. but now he was gone, and you had to suffice to other obscurities to lay your fingers upon.

gone. the word echoed in the chasm of your mind. gone. you didn’t realize the depth of lando’s absence would impact you this much, but that had been a mistake on your part. clearly. an oversight of your intimate relationship. that, eventually, it would end. it would end in flames, crash and burn, and ultimately never recover. as much as you thought, anyways.

you heard your name being called from the other side of the couch. you glanced up.

rebecca stared at you expectedly.

“sorry,” you breathed. “what did you say?”

rebecca huffed, but repeated herself regardless. “i said that i have a friend with me i want you to meet.” you raised your brows quizzically. “i think you’ll like him.”

him? him? oh, fuck, here we go.

as much as you wanted to breeze past what happened in lando’s monaco apartment, you couldn’t. your feelings, as heavy as they were, weighed you down into the abyss of lando norris’ wellbeing.

you didn’t sleep with anyone since him. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it didn’t feel right, and your own attempt at an orgasm was ultimately futile.

but you said nothing when rebecca turned, pulling a man from conversation with carlos. he looked confused, but let his eyes settle on you. he relaxed.

he was a handsome chap. dark hair, dark eyes. tanned skin. fit. he had a grecian nose, one that was slim and curved. not like lando’s, you thought, but brought yourself down to earth and stood. you greeted him with two kisses on the cheek, and his name was raphael.

“so you are…” his spanish accent was thick and attractive. you couldn’t deny that. “friends with rebecca?”

“that’s right.” you nodded, bringing a bottle of water to your lips to cool down. “you, as well?”

he shrugged, giving you a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “carlos, really,” you let out a soft ‘ahh’ and soon realized, too, that this would be a long fucking weekend.

the day of free practices came and went. so did your time with raphael. he wasn’t a bad conversationalist whatsoever, you were simply not interested. but you made a promise to rebecca this weekend that you would try. try and branch out instead of looking insatiably bored on live television. she was right. you needed to get over this and move on, because lando must’ve, right? he must’ve slept with that girl, given the fact that he didn’t go after you.

did you expect him to?

you weren’t sure. you weren’t fucking sure of anything. you weren’t a mindreader for fucks sake. but you saw his text messages. all of them. you made yourself sick with despair every night, rereading them to yourself like the fucking bible. what did you expect him to do for you? crucify himself? maybe. just maybe.

as you were walking down the pit lane with alexandra at your side, you felt the wafting air of an oncoming storm of people. you glanced around, but alexandra was the one to point it out.

“uh oh.”

the papaya suits could be seen from anywhere. it’s not like they were subtle.

you bristled and stood up straight. fuck, okay. this was happening. he’s walking this way. was he coming toward you? no, don’t be so foolish. but you hoped that he would.

lando was approaching you, but his eyes were set forward. but when you weren’t bothering to look, he had been staring at you the entire way here. he could spot you from miles away with your countenance, your undying beauty.

but he didn’t stop to look at you.

you didn’t either.

but your hands–

god your hands

they brushed past one another when he swept past your shoulder. his pinky desperately latching to yours before you let him go. you gasped lowly and he heard it, his ears twitching with the sound. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t.

if he stopped to turn, he would kiss you out in the open.

you dared him to.

but you both kept on your way, and the interaction had you fuming. why can’t he care to show up? texts, calls, whatever, didn’t compare to the ability to show up. you knew he was in monaco. you knew exactly when he was there. it wasn’t a fucking secret.

fuck him.

you didn’t care if you were being a brat. you knew what you put at stake, but you opened your heart to him. and you believed that maybe, just maybe, if that girl hadn’t interrupted, the two of you would be in a very different situation. maybe. but you didn’t let that thought linger. you couldn’t.

“what was that?” alexandra whispered to you as you both kept walking.

“nothing.”

and that’s what you promised yourself it to be. nothing. when in reality, it had been everything. lando had seen you, spotted you from what felt like a mile away with a man lingering at your side. fuck. reality set in for him that you were looking. you were looking elsewhere from him for companionship. it made him fucking sick to his stomach, and he knew that had to change. he was a man on a mission now, a conqueror ready to pillage.

it was the evening when you found yourself locked away in your hotel room. it was well past ten o’clock, and you were exhausted form today. alexandra had invited you out, but you just couldn’t bring yourself. rebecca prodded away at you, too, insisting that you and raphael hit it off today. he said that he wanted to see you again.

you had thought about it. you really did.

but you couldn’t.

you’d been sucked into a tv melodrama in your hotel room when you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you.

you checked the time and raised a brow, lifting your phone to see the all-too-familiar contact card lighting up your face in the ambient lighting of the room.

lando

you hesitated.

suddenly your heart was racing, beating rapidly against the cage of your chest, and you felt like a prisoner to your anxiety. you felt it drop to your stomach, feeling queasy, but hit ‘answer call’ anyways. you lifted your phone to your ear, and let out a soft breath.

“what?”

your words were bitter, but quiet in the solitude of your room.

“didn’t think you’d answer,” came his raspy voice from the other end. he was breathless, as if he had been running. or fucking some girl. fuck you, you wanted to bite out, but held your tongue.

“neither did i.”

that earned you a cheeky laugh from him. he hesitated, too, before breathing. “are you at your hotel?”

you were confused by the question. “yes.”

“can i see you?”

his words hit you hard. you fell back against the pillows of your bed, hand coming to rest over your forehead. you sighed with a grumble. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

you could practically feel him wince through the phone.

“please.”

fuck him and his soft words. his desperate tone, the pity that you felt for him grew. the fact of the matter flew from your head, disappearing with a singular plead from his cracked vocals. he sounded honest. that he truly wanted to see you, and a small part of you wished to reconcile whatever was happening between the two of you. you were not a woman of small touches– you wanted it all, or nothing.

“okay.”

lando cleared his throat, choking on his breath, exhibiting his initial shock. “i– okay, okay, what room are you in?”

“610.”

he hung up before you could let out a breath. your phone fell onto your nightwear– a simple baggy shirt and spandex. they were what kept you most comfortable at night.

your hands raked over your face, pulling your eyelids with it. what were you doing? engaging with him, talking with him over the phone. the long text chains of read messages you had banished him to sat idly on your screen, staring you down with an ambivalence that you quivered before. was this a mistake? should you just pretend you’re–

there was a knock at your door seconds into your thoughts.

you jumped from your bed, hands raking through your hair. how did he get here so fucking quick? you scrambled around your room, checking yourself in any reflection you could find. fuck, why were you so nervous? how could he possibly make you so riddled with anxiety in a matter of seconds? your heart was in overdrive once again, and you wondered just how much you could take.

he said your name through the door. weak, pining. you dropped the brush you grabbed in the bathroom instantly, feet soaring over the hardwood floor to open it. when you did, you were face to face with the british driver.

he wasn’t drunk. that’s a first. the thought crossed your mind only briefly, thinking that you were just a booty call in the late hours of the night. it wouldn’t be the first time.

lando was disheveled, messy, and the white shirt he wore was ruffled. upon his head was a mclaren hat, concealing his identity from the outside. most importantly, though, that you noticed was how his face was glazed in a sheath of sweat. you cocked a brow at him.

“did you run here?”

lando shrugged. it felt, in that moment, that things were normal between you two. that all of this…shit washed over for just a second. you felt at home. comfortable. but you cleared your throat and let him walk in, shutting the door behind you.

you didn’t want to speak to him here. not where he could see your laundry everywhere, pairs of underwear sprawled around so he’d get distracted. not that you expected to fuck him here, though the thought didn’t upset you. fuck, you were in deep.

you brushed past him, leading him to the small terrace just outside your bedroom. you slid the door open and leaned your back against the railing. he slid the door shut behind the two of you, and he took a seat in one of the wooden picnic chairs. he gawked at you, openly, letting his eyes run over your bare legs beneath the oversized shirt.

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat.

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that.

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.”

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his.

“like what?”

you scoffed.

“like you’re in love with me.”

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs.

“i wanted to see you.”

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?”

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say.

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems.

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.”

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.”

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world.

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer.

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant.

“why, now, are you sorry?”

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share.

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices.

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–”

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment.

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well.

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath.

you felt his hands tense against your hips.

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft.

he was confused. again.

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips.

“one of your girls.”

you pushed him away, walking back to the railing with your back turned. he said your name over and over. you ignored him.

“i think,” you said, sucking in a tight breath to calm the storm of emotions that were threatening to raise hell. “that you should go.”

“no, no–” lando stood, coming to wrap his arms around you, but you turned, holding up your hand to stop your advances.

“we knew this would happen one day, didn’t we?” you reaffirmed, steadying your breaths the best that you could. but it was difficult. nothing about this was easy. but it had to be done. you were done waiting. done pining for someone that did not feel the same. did not burn the same.

lando breathed your name again. you shook your head. “no. no. we can’t–” you choked on your tears. it felt hard to breathe. “i can’t keep waiting for you.”

lando’s own eyes filled with tears. it felt like a breakup, when you two were clearly never together. you made that clear enough, and he obeyed, just wishing to feel your skin beneath his fingers, fall asleep to your heart beat. so why did he say he didn’t know? fuck, he’s such an asshole. he couldn’t take back his words now, could he?

he tried to explain. words stumbled from his lips, nervous and riling with anxiety, but you would hear none of it. you simply brushed past him and into your room, opening the door from your hotel room for him. you said nothing else, tears sliding down your cheeks, lip caught between your teeth.

“please,” he begged one last time. he had succumbed to his tears, too, cheeks flushed and lip wet. his hands trembled as he made one last attempt to cup your face. you let him.

your foreheads met in both desperation and exhaustion. here, it felt like time stopped. the two of you in sync with your racing hearts, trembling hands, voracious blood churning through your veins. you looked up at him through your wet lashes and he met your gaze. it only had you sobbing harder.

he wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“please,” he said your name on his trembling tongue. the sound had your knees trembling, but you resisted. you had to. you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. there was a life out there, waiting for you to take hold of. “don’t make me go.”

you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head.

“you have to.”

lando hiccuped. his fingers were still shaking, and he finally accepted your rejection. though he supposed he signified it first. that was his first mistake. he couldn’t take back his words without sounding like a dick, so he was trapped. trapped utterly in this pit of mayhem.

he exited your hotel room with his tail between his legs. defeated.

you shut the door behind him and slumped against it, your back sliding down until you hit the floor. your head fell into your hands as you attempted to stifle your sobs.

little did you know, that he had done the same thing, fallen limp against your hotel room door. your sobs were in unison as you began to unravel, whilst he coiled into knots. forever entwined amidst your inability to be vulnerable with one another. toilsome, but ultimately true.

you didn’t know how long you stayed there. he didn’t know how long he stayed there. the two of you stayed in parallel behind a closed door, mimicking each other’s beating heart, for you knew that they would never be one.

when you woke, you were still slumped against the door. you stood, stretching out your painfully aching muscles, arched your back, twisted your neck. your eyes were swollen raw with your epidemic of tears the night prior, and you rubbed the crust away. the memories flooded through you. lando was here. he was here, and you had to haul his ass out.

you thought he was going to kiss you.

but he didn’t. your lips would remain untouched by his own.

your fingers ghosted over your mouth, shivering at the memory of him so close to you. you could feel his breath fanning over your face– the heaving, desperate puffs of air– and he felt yours, too, with the same amount of anxiety. you were a wreck before him, and he was too.

in no time you found your phone, grimacing at your battery, and the plethora of texts from rebecca and alexandra. it was still early in the morning so you had time to pull yourself together, but you had a big day with them today. qualifying was happening, and rebecca had set you up.

she set you up with raphael for the day. you knew she meant the best. and maybe it was. this was your opportunity to uphold your promise– to move on. you had to, or else you would be strung dry for the remainder of your life, with dreary hopes and aimless romantics. you would not drown in the ocean of lando norris, despite how cumbersome he gripped on your ankles.

you fixed yourself for the day. showering quickly, styling your hair to your liking. you threw on a formal chic outfit, perhaps trying a bit hard today to catch raphael’s eye– or someone else’s, by chance. but you left the unattainable at the back of your mind today, heart far too raw to be ripped open again.

you would stick with something safe. someone safe. raphael was your answer in the short term. you were sick of playing the long game, bested to your knees in the face of whatever conspired between you and the british driver. you were convinced it was for the best. it had to be. these emotions couldn’t be for nothing.

it couldn’t be for nothing.

when you arrived to the track that morning, alexandra was quick to meet your side. she had an impenetrable amount of questions for you, yearning for your answers, but you only gave her a brief overview.

“we’re done,” you said as you walked through the pit lane. “he doesn’t want me like that.”

she was clearly taken back. her hand flew over her heart, obviously distressed for you. you admired her care for you. you would do the same for her. “really?”

you nodded, gulping down the lump in your throat that was tempting to choke you.

“it’s okay.” you reaffirmed her. she made a move to speak over you, console you to the highest degree, but you stopped her. “i’m fine. swear. let’s have a good day, shall we?” you plastered on a fake smile towards her, but you knew she saw through you. but she would accept this for now when you were approached by carlos, rebecca, and raphael.

you smiled brighter when raphael came to kiss both your cheeks. you gripped his bicep. engaging in conversation with him felt easier today, and you weren’t begging for an out. you’d catch rebecca’s eye here and there, and she glowed with happiness. if you weren’t doing this for yourself, you could at least say that you were doing it for her.

raphael was not a bad man whatsoever. he smelled good, had good hygiene, and had a glowing smile. but he didn’t smell the same. didn’t have the same musk. didn’t have the harsh pricks of a stubble that burned into the skin of your neck.

fuck. you missed the feeling of that stubble.

you clung to raphael’s side for the rest of the day, a burning itch between your thighs undoing the morals of your mind. if you wanted to get over lando, you’d have to truly get over him.

it was never a ‘string’s attached’ relationship, was it? you were free to fuck whoever you want, when you want. so why would it be so bad if you wished to see raphael bend down for you?

or you wanted someone else, but raphael was the closest you’d get.

the rest of the day went by smoothly. for you, at least, but not for lando.

he had come into the mclaren paddock looking absolutely awry. his hair messy, eyes dreary with sleep and emotion, whereas you…you looked beautiful. untouched by your emotions from the night before. so much so that you were cuddled against that same fucking dude, which had lando’s blood bursting to life.

you were across in the pitlane observing the car, arms folded over your chest. that fucking guy’s hand rested on the upper part of your back, rolling soft circles with the pads of his fingers. he clenched the rim of his helmet in his hands. his teeth grinded inside his mouth, sawing down the enamel. for you, he’d have no teeth. for you were the only world he wished to bite, and even then you starved him of it.

“y’alright, mate?” oscar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. lando broke his stare from the pair of you, ripping his eyes away.

but you had turned, then, and let your eyes linger on his back.

“fine.”

that evening was no different than any other. for lando, at least, he succumbed to his hotel room for the night. he had no interest in going out. if he saw you with that spanish prick, he’d only lose himself even more. the guilt of losing you had been overturning, divulging into what a psychologist would declare as madness.

but you were the opposite. you were out on the town, clubbing with rebecca and raphael. carlos was there, too, but was saving his energy for the race tomorrow. he held no drink in his hand, but you did. you were downing shot after shot.

you were swaying your hips, grinding against raphael with a steady pace. he was into it. his dick was aggressively hard against the back side of your dress, but you weren’t scared by it. it enticed you further, in fact, and had you drawing new sensations of pleasure through you.

finally, you thought, a break from him. from lando. but the voices echoed inside the back of your mind. it bounced off the walls; he couldn’t compare.

lando would have his hands drawing up the sides of your body. fingertips scathing the fabric of your dress, teasing touches that would have you writhing in his hold, desperate for him to fuck you in the back.

lando would have his face nuzzled into your neck whispering bittersweet praises into your ear. he’d squeeze your hips with anticipation as the both of you would move in sync. always in sync. the two of you were one on the dance floor, one when you fucked one another senseless in your less than private moments. when he was particularly desperate for your touch, he’d go as far as taking you in the bathrooms at any club. he had no shame; not when it came to you.

but raphael was tame. and maybe you appreciated tame. maybe this was a new start for you. fresh and free of any unknowns.

“you’re beautiful, hermosa.” he would whisper to you, body trying its best to keep up with you. he did, for the most part, but you moved to your own beat. lando would know. he knew every inch of you. were you really prepared to be strangers?

you spun around in raphael’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you offered him a cheeky smile. this wasn’t you. “and you’re handsome!” it was alcohol talking. you would never be seen so exuberant. not like this.

it had raphael laughing, though, and it was enough for him to take you back to his place.

the entire way back to his place you were giggling, latching onto his tanned skin. his hair was soft, sheen, and luscious. your hands never got lost in the strands of his hair– it was too combed, not curly enough. nothing was curly enough.

and then he had you against the wall of his flat. your hands pinned against your head, and he met your lips with his. fuck, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been kissed. but the worst part about all of it was–

you hated it.

you tugged his head down to your neck, letting him work the sensitive skin with his tongue. your lips felt hot. blistering with a heat you haven’t felt in a long time. it felt…it felt…

raphael’s tongue found the meeting part of your underwear and skin, “can i?” he asked with a timid voice. you let out a soft moan and nodded. he tugged the fabric down, your dress still hanging off your body. you didn’t even remember if he left kisses along your neck, your breasts, you guessed his lips weren’t that memorable.

and then his tongue was against your slit. you weren’t wet enough. clearly. you could feel the chapped parts of your cunt, disappointed in your body that you couldn’t ‘get it up’ for him. whereas he was practically jacking off in his pants, you were left like a desert. it wouldn’t be like this with lando.

he explored your cunt with his tongue, narrowly dodging your clit ever so slightly. he thought your noises of pleasure were noises of distress, so he avoided touching your clit as much as possible. so he tongued you through and through, until you began to become irritated.

you couldn’t even feel tight in your stomach. the feeling couldn’t be outmatched. maybe your sexdrive had died. maybe you could never cum ever again. this was to be your fate– dry and lonely. fuck. you let your head fall back against the wall, which he took as a good sign, and kept going. instead, you threaded your hands through his hair, rolling your eyes.

you let out a few soft, faked moans. you felt guilty– of course you did– but apparently it was an olympic sport to make you cum. he certainly wouldn’t make the playoffs.

after another minute of this, you were fed up.

you tightened your cunt on command, which took a lot of fucking work, thank you, and began to heighten the sound of your moans. the award for best fake orgasm goes to: you!!! you surged forward to grip onto his shoulders, even pretending to be shaking.

you deserved an oscar.

“didn’t think i was that good.”

an egot, maybe.

you let out a soft sigh, a faked chuckle, and let him lead you to his bedroom. he fell atop of you on your back, holding himself up with the strength of his forearms. he dipped his hand down, scathing over your irritated cunt. you gasped at his hand finding your slit once again, drenched in only his spit, and without warning slipped a finger inside of you.

your mouth hung open, lurching at the sudden contact. you felt sinched beneath his weight, taught with tension. he even curled his finger inside of you. he grazed your bundle of nerves that had your squirming. squirming for more pressure. he kept hitting your spot until he pulled away. you looked confused at first, wondering where exactly he was going.

and…then he was pulling his cock out. fuck. you really weren’t going to win here, tonight, were you? not in the slightest, it seemed. he looked down at you with a knowing smirk. the same one where he thought you came beneath his tongue.

he thought you came.

fuck!

“are you ready?” he asked when his cock pushed against the skin of your lower belly. he was a good size, you admit, but you had a inkling that you weren’t going to find a sweet release with his hands. you nodded, forgetting your manners, but raphael said nothing.

he pushed into you with a discerning pace. you scrunched your nose out of his eyesight. he was too busy fucking himself into your pussy. he couldn’t even open his eyes to look at you. and, for the record, he didn’t use a condom. dick. at least you had a form of a contraceptive. you’d make sure not to let him finish inside you. that’s for fucking sure.

he slid in and out of you with the lubrication of his spit and his own precum. you didn’t move. you laid there, bored, faking a moan and gasp here and there.

the whole time you thought about someone else. and you didn’t feel guilty about it. you were able to find yourself comforted by the dreaming thought of lando’s voice in your ear. the phantom touch of his stubble. the amount of moles that you could count on his face.

with a grunt, you felt raphael push off of you, cumming onto his own sheets. he laid there, panting, and you…”did the same.”

he turned to face you, smile on his face. “did you finish?”

you nodded with an itching smile. he seemed triumphant. though you couldn’t be drier than a haystack.

your exit from his flat quickly. it’s not like he even took your dress off. he insisted that you stayed, but you retorted that you had an early morning with alexandra. whether or not that's true, you didn’t seem to care. he didn’t fight your statement and seamlessly let you go, clearly too exhausted from his evening to even see you out the door.

you hailed a cab from your hotel shamefully. you felt icky. your lip sneered when you caught a cab and tipped the driver once you arrived back. the elevator ride never seemed so tantalizingly long.

when you swiped into your room, you threw your belongings on your bed and turned on a hot shower. while you waited for the water to heat, you opened your phone.

no messages from lando.

did you expect any?

maybe.

you decided to call him. you didn’t fucking care. it was the alcohol talking.

ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…

no answer.

you left a voicemail.

“heeyyy…!!” you surged into the phone as you began to untangle your dress from your body. “i–uh, i dunno i just…wanted to call you… because i…” you swore under your breath as you couldn’t get a strap off. “sorry i…” you stuttered, laughing to yourself. “i think i miss you, lan.”

and then you hung up, singing yourself into the shower. the hot water panned over your body, fingers trailing over the mounds of your breasts. the soft skin of your abdomen.

but with your whimsy, came a price.

lando was there. he just didn’t answer your call. he had been awake, wondering what you were doing, since you were absent on almost all forms of social media. so when he got your call, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

then the voicemail came.

he must’ve played it over a dozen times. hearing your soft voice, amicable and kind. you had been drinking, clearly, and he could hear the sound of the shower running in the background. he held his phone against his head, other hand running through his hair. he was a wreck over you, and you were as well. drunk dialing was never a thing between the two of you.

especially an ‘i miss you.’

and how ‘lan’ slipped past your lip with such ease. the name was meant for you to use. only you.

he found himself stroking his cock to your words, the temptress in your voice. he knew she was there, baiting him, and he was no better than a fish to bite. he fisted his cock with your name on his lips, and a reminder that yours was on his.

with a pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears, all he could think about was you. and more or less, you the same.

your fingers trailed down your navel in the shower, coming to nib at the lips of your clit. how swollen it was, angered and annoyed, that such a man could ignore it. by association, you.

a hand rolled over one of your breasts, twisting your nipple in hand. you gasped at the sensation you provided, flicking your clit between your fingers. you truly needed no more to make yourself cum, except the thought of lando’s voice in your ears.

‘come on, baby,’ he would say to you, fingers gliding along your drenched slit with ease. you clenched around nothing, whimpering to yourself in the hum of the hot shower. ‘little more for me, yeah?’ he would always talk you through it. never once would you be alone when you came. he was always there, lingering, a shadow against the walls.

you slipped a single finger inside of yourself, curling it expertly as lando taught you to. ‘just like that, sweet thing.’ he’d mutter against your shoulder as he’d fuck you on a chair facing a mirror. you could never make yourself cum before his “lessons.”

your back arched against the marble of the shower walls. your thumb and forefinger worked just like his would against your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until a coil inside of you snapped, and you came all over yourself with his name on your lips.

and he could feel it. amongst the cosmic plane. he had been grudgingly fisting his cock, grunting your name over his lips. it was sinful, the way that his cock was spewing cum in only a matter of minutes at the thought of your voice. ‘lan, lan,’ you would say to him, ‘need it. need you inside,’ you’d whimper against him, begging for his cum to seep out of you.

he’d never deny you a pleasure. so he shouldn’t deny himself. he came in a matter of seconds over the palm of his hand, your name flustering his tongue. and he’d lay there, soaking in his milky cum, eyes blown wide at just how much of an effect you had on him; mind, body, and soul.

you stood there in the shower, flustered from heat, the slick running down your thighs. your hearts beat in unison at that moment, miles apart, on the same wavelength.

the shower wasn’t the same after that. you felt dirty, but so good. the namesake of lando’s voice in your ear was enough to have you cumming on your own fingers, but the touch of another man made you ill. what a shock that was to you. or maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all.

clean to the best of your ability, you slept easy that night. the best sleep you’ve had this weekend, in fact, with lando frolicking through your dreams. and you in his, whispering soft ‘i love you’s’ which had him writhing with pleasure. you infested every part of him, and he did the same to you. you’d never be free of lando norris, and the thought began to settle. it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but you couldn’t forget his words.

‘i don’t know,’ he spoke into your stomach. his nose pinched you. the words sliced clean. your stomach coiled not with pleasure, but anxiety. why didn’t he want you that way? why did he hesitate?

you weren’t taking his rejection well. that was clear.

but he wasn’t taking this any better. he was going through his own emotional turmoil of trying to make this up to you. it would be the last thing that he did.

when you woke that morning with a groggy headache and a sore ache between your thighs, you couldn’t help but groan. what the fuck were you doing last night? you perhaps had the most disappointing sex of your entire life, and now, as you looked in the mirror you were nothing more than mortified.

littered on your chest, above your breasts, were a few specks of bruises. hickey’s. fuck. fuck. that was one thing that was always far too intimate. kisses and hickeys. what did this mean, then, that you belonged to raphael? your fingers trailed up the bruises on your chest, the flesh tender beneath your soft touch. you winced at the memory of his cocky face, thinking that he had you finishing more than once. if at all. you leaned over the sink, washing your face off with cold water.

your hands rested at the base of your neck. your reflection stared back at you, pitiful, the bruises beneath your eyes reflected a tiredness that the word ‘exhaustion’ could not begin to fathom. you were disappointed in yourself. that much was clear.

a sigh escaped you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. for the race today, you decided on a long dress. one that covered your chest, but hung on your shoulders. it was a beautiful piece. you’d been saving it for this weekend, and you were more than thankful that the universe seemed to be looking out for you.

you tidied up your appearance the best you could and slid on a pair of heels, grimacing at the sore ache from the night before. raphael didn’t have a valet, so you had to walk across four blocks with his hands wandering down your sides, desperate to fuck you in an alleyway. ew. you shivered at the memory, but continued on from your hotel room.

though, you took one last glance before leaving, and let your eyes rest on the balcony. it felt like a dream to see lando sitting there, his face resting against the tender flesh of your stomach. his stubble itched through the cotton of your shirt, but it rather tickled. and then he said he didn’t know what he wanted with you, and your whole life slipped right through your fingers.

he slipped through your fingers.

you shut the door.

lando’s morning, on the other hand, started off stellar in comparison to yours. he had stayed up a while longer, wondering if you would call him back, but you never did. there was a faint pang of disappointment, but much more guilt that he let you slip away so easily. he should’ve refused to leave your hotel room that night. refused by any force you attempted on him.

but he’s just that much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? when he left for the paddock early that morning, he glanced at his phone one last time. one missed call, and it was from you last night. and then suddenly, his heart was warm, and there was a smile on his face.

all this told him was that there was a chance. you called him. you called him whether or not you were shitfaced. blackout drunk. in your vulnerable moments you thought of him. reached out for him. fuck, he was in love with you.

in love

he paused when he shut the door behind him, frozen in place. what? is that what this was? love?

anxiety churned in his stomach. this feeling had been there for a while. a long time. and only now he was just realizing it. shit.

he fiddled with his phone in his hands. thumb hovering over your contact card, he let it fall.

it rang twice before he heard the line connect.

“yeah?” you said, demure and quiet. he knew you were exhausted. he’s heard this tone before. the tone you had when you were viciously hungover. it had him chuckling. “what?”

“good morning to you, too.” the words rolled easy from him. he suddenly felt calmer with you on the other end, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

“good morning.” you said, like you were shocked that he was calling you to say good morning.

“fun night?” he asked, stepping into the elevator and hitting the ‘lobby’ button. a few members of his team were already waiting for him.

but you had froze up in the car ride to the paddock. what? how could he know? did he know that you were with raphael? you cleared your throat. “what– what do you mean?”

“you called me.”

shit.

if you weren’t fucked already, you were royally now. your hand dragged over your forehead as your head swarmed with anxious thoughts, completely forgetting about calling him and then…touching yourself in the shower to the thought of him. yikes! what a little freak you were. but lando would enjoy it.

“i–” you stuttered, voice caught in your throat. “i’m sorry…i was just…”

your voice trailed and you could hear his childish laugh from the other end. “no, no. it was cute.” you heard the elevator ding from his end, but it hard to focus on when there was a deep blush flustering your cheeks.

“i didn’t mean to bother you,” you quickly said, finding the need to apologize over and over again for disrupting his night. it was embarrassing enough as is that you had the worst sex of your life, but you called the one man that didn’t want you for consolidation. what a conundrum that was, wasn’t it?

“you didn’t.” his words were firm this time, no traces of playfulness. you perked up at this, finding yourself laughing.

“must’ve said something dumb, didn’t i?”

there was a pause.

“yeah. yeah. something dumb.”

there was another beat of silence. you shifted in the uber, the pass around your neck.

“i’ll see you there?”

you heard him suck in a tight breath, then release it.

“yeah. yeah, ‘course you will.”

you smiled. he could feel it.

“okay. bye, then.”

he said your name softly on the other end with a salutation, and the line went flat. you slammed your back against the leather seats of the car, hands rolling over your face. you rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming.

it wasn’t fair that he could make you this way. that he had you in tears just a few nights before, and now your fingers shook with excitement. fuck him. fuck him for making you feel this way, and yet, there was no trace of annoyance on your face.

just a bright smile.

your name was called when you swiped into the paddock. it had you whipping your head up to see who it could be, but you already knew that it was alexandra. she wasn’t trailed by anyone else, thank god, and she flung her arms around you for a hug.

you sang a soft greeting towards her, and she looked up at you expectantly. you raised a brow.

“so…!?”

you narrowed your eyes.

“your night with…!” her voice dropped to a whisper. “raphael.”

you shushed her, looking around, before you held one of her hands in yours. “you want the truth?” her facial expression dropped, but she nodded anyways.

“awful.”

she groaned, head rolling back in disappointment. “i told rebecca it wasn’t a good idea.”

“the sex was…horrible. just…i mean, what the fuck?” alexandra burst out into a laugh as the both of you joined side by side towards the ferrari hospitality. you dreaded going, given the unanswered texts for him, you didn’t want to be confronted with…anything.

“most importantly…” alexandra stopped the two of you before you entered. “are you over him?”

him. the inevitable.

you swallowed.

and nodded your head.

alexandra was only slightly pleased and gave you a reassuring smile. boy, this would be a long day.

before the race started you were wandering around the pitlane with your miniature crew of ferrari girlfriends and their friends. raphael had found you, eagerly, with a prideful smile on his face. out of kindness, you returned the gesture, and let him linger around you for the day.

ferrari’s pit was next to mclaren’s. you couldn’t help but stare.

lando was there. in his papaya race suit. he was speaking to his engineers, and never glanced your way. look at me, you wanted to shout. please, your mind begged. but you stayed firm at raphael’s side.

he dared to stretch out his hand to let it loiter on your waist, but you shimmied out of the contact with an awkward smile. he noticed, but didn’t say anything.

lando did too.

but not what you wanted him to see. he saw you with raphael’s arm around your waist. you were smiling, laughing, in their presence. whereas he couldn’t even bear a night out without the cumbersome thoughts of you constricting his mind. he thought of nothing but you. and here you were, haphazardly dangling this spanish prick in front of his face. fucker.

you turned to look at lando again, free of raphael’s touch. he was staring.

your heart beat faster, eyes widened. your palms were sweating– why were they sweating? he looked pissed, frustrated, but you didn’t know why. your brows upturned with a soft expression that he yearned for, and his envy flushed away.

it was that easy. your gentle features. the concern ridden in your face.

you even gave him a small wave, twiddling your fingers. he was bashful in response, and returned it with a small twist of his own fingers.

but his eyes carried down. towards your chest. you blinked, realizing that part of your dress had slipped further. there was an obvious bruise making an appearance, and you felt guilty. guilty as if you had cheated on him, but you were never in a relationship to begin with.

you saw his jaw tightened and his hands flex before he turned, leaving you speechless.

and then you were dragged away, just like that, into the viewing panel for the race. they were about to start their formation lap, yet you could barely focus with your racing heart.

it past with ease. raphael tried to get closer to you, but you found excuses to stay huddled at alexandra’s side. she noticed, and even wrapped her own arm around your waist. the two of you were a picturesque vision of divine femininity. you felt untouchable at her side, incomparable to any girlfriend you’ve ever had.

lando was fighting hard. he was aggressive on the straits, pushing past the limits of his drs. your hand traced over your chin as you watched the tv intensely, frightened when you saw him make contact with one of the mercedes drivers.

“what is he doing…” you muttered under your breath. your nailbeds were being hacked on by your teeth, chewing them down to the stump. parts of your thumbs streamed with blood.

little to your knowledge, your reaction had been broadcasted. alexandra’s face unfurled with a cheeky look, realizing that she had been played by your deception from earlier. you were not over him. in fact, you were entirely worse than before. your concern was ebbed through the power of media, and that wouldn’t be forgotten.

“are you okay?” came raphael’s voice. you didn’t even look at him.

“fine.”

he took your cold tone in earnest, realizing that there was something more at stake here.

you couldn’t be more grateful when lando passed the checkered flag. your hand found the column of your throat, finding comfort. you let your face be consumed by a smile, one similar to raphael’s when he thought he made you came. stupid man, you thought, glancing towards the spaniard. you had a new priority now.

you had to prove that you wanted lando. but how? everything felt like it was becoming too complicated. your fates were intertwined via an invisible string.

and you didn’t even go to his podium.

he looked for you, sweat dripping down his forehead, but didn’t see you. it had him grow weary, agitated. he raced this hard so he could prove himself to you. prove that he was better than some lowlife.

but he fears he lost you.

the hickey’s on your neck spoke volumes. you fucked him. fucked that stranger. his fists curled around the trophy, break-necking the medal display.

did you come?

no. stop that. it’s none of his business to ask–

she didn’t. you couldn’t.

the pieces began to fall in place in his head. the phone call. you called him…when you needed him most.

it suddenly made holding this trophy all the more worthwhile, and he even donned a smile on his face when he raised it high above his head. this, he thought, was victory.

the night came as swiftly as the day went. you were getting ready to go out, alexandra reminding you to schedule your uber. you did. the dress you wore this evening was short. one of your favorite colors, and had a high neckline. for obvious reasons. you were entirely mortified that raphael felt the primal need to mark you like some bitch. it had your stomach twisting with anger, fingers pulsing with a punch.

but your violent urges stayed dormant when you met up with alexandra, charles, rebecca, carlos, and…raphael. jeez, what a lot you’ve surrounded yourself with. raphael was at your side in an instant when you climbed out of the uber, refusing to give you a morsel of space. it had your lip curling, grimacing down the vomit that curdled in your throat.

you barely spoke a word to him tonight. there was nothing more to say to him. if you were to say anything, it would be a rotten lie.

alexandra tugged you along through the doors, charles at her flank, which you gladly let her do. anything to get away from raphael would be best for you, given how much you didn’t want to confront him. it was just for the weekend, right? no strings attached.

no strings attached, echoed through your mind. flashes of lando’s hands on your hips, the phantom embrace that tensed around your flesh, seeped into your head. your heart plummeted against your will, looking around futilely for his bright smile amongst the sea of oncomers.

it didn’t take you long.

but you wish that it did.

he had his arm slung around some girl, hat backwards, first few buttons undone on his white dress shirt. hands clamming up, you tightened them together over your front, letting your eyes gawk at such a beautiful pairing. it was a different girl than the one you had rudely met in monaco.

another one of his girls.

your mind begged you to let it go. but your heart chained itself to lando, refusing to let go this…infatuation that had you sick to your stomach. what did she have that you didn’t? was she nonchalant? was she a cool girl?

your staring lasted too long. lando saw you. he felt your eyes– your heated stare, beckoning his attention. he answered your call, glancing directly at you. but he did not wave.

neither did you.

the urge thwarted you to look anywhere else but him, tugged your attention elsewhere, but you stayed firm on his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, his daunting stare. you felt the beat of his heart from across the room, the bass boosted rap, his irritability when raphael came to rest a hand on your hip. but you did not turn away from this fight. your arsenal was loaded, and so was his.

lando glanced at raphael, first to break eye contact, and swug the rest of his cocktail in hand. he let the glass slide across the counter of the bar before tugging the girl at his side to his front, the pair of them dancing with one another.

fine, if he wants to play, then you’ll play.

you were handed a cocktail by raphael. you thanked him sincerely before you downed your own in one gulp. raphael gaped at you with a slack jaw. you wiped the loose drops from your jaw, and offered him your hand.

“dance with me?”

raphael didn’t need to be asked twice when he took your hand. you led him deeper into the club, the led lights brightening both your faces. in this light, you supposed that he was irrecoverably handsome. and the thought slipped through your mind that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had a good life with him. that in some universe that you could get over this feud with a man who doesn’t want you, you’d have a well-earned chance at happiness.

but the thought left just as quickly as it came.

your hips were against his. ass against his crotch, grinding in a rough series of movements. he began growing accustomed to how you moved, and that much you could be thankful for. no longer would the two of you be awkward on the dance floor, fragile hands trembling against your body. he felt more confident, but you could tell there was something brewing behind those big brown eyes of his. but you honestly couldn’t care less, not when you were distracted.

not when your eyes were entranced on a man who treated you like garbage. who cried in your arms, begged for your presence. then, left your hotel room with tears streaming down your face.

his hands were tightly wound around the girls abdomen, cocky expression glazing his face. he spoke to a few of his buddies here, too, amply looking like a douche. one that who knew exactly what he was doing to girls. fuck.

you were just one of his girls.

this enraged you. but it shouldn’t. but it did. there was no excuse for your fray of emotions. they simply existed, and you were going to deal with them. not in a responsible way. no, you were far too gone for that. alcohol warmed your throat, your palms, your chest.

you let your head lean back onto raphael’s shoulder, your mouth coming to his ear. “you can touch me.” you encouraged him. he seemed to lighten at this, becoming bold enough to let his hands trail up your body. he’d indulge in your shape, letting his fingers imprint against the globes of your breasts, the lining of your panties beneath your dress.

a light giggle left you when you let your head rise from his blades, and were met with an aggressive, terrifying, stare from across the room.

your lips puckered.

lando’s head was resting on the girl’s shoulder, his hips swaying with hers, but his eyes were trained on you. you, you, and more you. he was glaring at the man behind you, his gaze so bitter that it soured even your own tongue. it was the miniscule amount of guilt that flustered your head, but you shoved it down.

lando retaliated, beginning to kiss on the girls neck. she leaned against him, a gorgeous smile lighting up the room.

you grumbled, turning your head to meet raphael’s eyes. your eyes pleaded with a language of seduction, one that any man could understand.

raphael took the bait.

his lips trailed down your ear, down the column of your neck. all whilst your back was pressed against his front, you felt the outline of his dick. your palm tightened at the memory of how he attempted to fuck you, but you had to remain composed. you couldn’t fail now.

your lip caught between your teeth for dramatics. like you were holding back a moan.

lando was watching. in fact, he never stopped. he was drunk on the addiction of watching you. watching you grind your hips on that fuckin’ guy, not even wince when his lips were glossing over the sensitive flesh of your neck. could he make you wet with just his mouth?

the british driver could feel his end nearing. if this progressed any further, he’d drag your ass to the bathroom and fuck you like you’d deserve. he didn’t give a fuck. not anymore. not when your lip was bitten by your top row of teeth, an illusive point to how that guy was pleasuring you. he felt fucking sick. though he was starving to the same degree.

his chest was aflame at your teasing touches on your own body. he could see the outline of your panties, the lack of a bra. your nipples were pinching against the fabric that confined them, and he had to stop himself from drooling. you were so fucking sexy.

the girl at his front was growing bored of her lack of attention. he, honestly, didn’t even remember her name. but he’d suffice it with a swirl of his tongue around the skin of her jaw. it was a critical move, since he knew that you’d never let yourself be kissed. you wouldn’t risk such intimacy with a man you’ve only known for a few days–

except you would.

this was war, wasn’t it?

watching lando suck and slurp on that girl’s neck had you desperate to come up with an alternate idea. an approach that would crown you victorious without a second thought. it was cruel, you knew this, but you were out of options. you had something to prove. prove that you were over him. though, you knew that this would end in one of two ways;

him, fucking you.

or, him leaving.

you much preferred the latter.

with enough fury boiling in your bones, you lifted your head to meet raphael’s eyes. with your pointer finger, you let it roll over his chin, connecting with your thumb. you glanced at his lips, your tongue wetting your own, and pulled him to meet you.

raphael said your name into your mouth, nervous to even let his tongue explore yours. you sucked in a tight breath, lip curling to reference a snarl at how much you despised the sensation. it was messy, wet, and you felt instantly disgusted with yourself for even letting him touch your lips. you felt like you jumped too far into a relationship with raphael, even though you were certain that you didn’t want one.

“be my girlfriend,” raphael breathed into your mouth. you hummed a laugh, thinking that he was joking. but he moved to separate you too, staring at you with a brazen thoroughness that you never wished to see again.

“i’m serious. i want–”

“‘scuse me, mate,” you knew that voice. you knew that voice too well. your head spun around to see lando leering dangerously close to raphael’s face, the heat of his body emanating onto your own. he stood only a few inches from you.

you felt his hand ghost over the small of your back, and you suddenly felt desperate to feel it. with your lips raw from that kiss, your fingertip glazed over the flesh, your eyes lost in lando’s tense expression. his jaw was tightened, chest doing it’s best to keep his heated expression under control. however, that control was slipping with every passing moment that you were in raphael’s arms.

raphael turned his attention to lando, suddenly pissed. “need something?”

lando gave him a hoarse chuckle. “yeah. can i borrow your lady for a second?”

raphael made a move to shake his head. “no, we were just—”

“thanks, mate.” lando gripped your back with his fingertips, digging into the skin without mercy. you felt his anger rolling off of him in tense waves, the urge to consolidate him overwhelming. he led you through the crowds of people with an insurmountable force, jaw tightly clenched the entire way. you could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another.

he said nothing until he opened– no, broke the door– to the bathroom. it was a single stall– no one was in there. he allowed you to enter first, stretching out his arm as a much needed signal. you waited a moment, arms crossing over your chest.

his eyes didn’t relent. he would wait here all fucking day before you decided to go in. and you did. he locked the door behind the two of you in an instant.

“what the fuck are you–” you began to scold, back turned to him as you approached the mirror and the sink. you were interrupted when he spun you around, hand place firmly on your hip. the contact had you gasping, glancing down at his hand.

“so, what?” he said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, blown pupils. his heart was electrified, hidden behind his cage of ribs, and one hand flexed as it gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. he hummed, “hm? he your boyfriend now?”you gaped at him. “you’re serious?” you stifled a laugh, unbelieving of his attitude. “what’s it to you, lando? hm?”

his shoulders tensed. “you shouldn’t be with him.”

you rolled your eyes. lando gripped your chin, demanding your attention. “why not, then? ‘m i supposed to be your whore forever?”

his thumb rolled over your bottom lip. “you never were,” he tsked. you were bewildered. brow raising, however difficult to focus when his hand around your hip began to swirl circles on your skin.

“what the fuck are you saying, then, lando? you need to–”

“you let him kiss you.”

you froze.

“never me. why?” his restraint was slipping. his forehead edged closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your face.

“why?” he asked again, his nose brushing against your own. you shook your head ‘no,’ lip beginning to quiver beneath his body. his chest pressed against your own as he got closer. he needed to be closer. “he fuck you better? hm? that it?”

you shuddered when you felt his fingers lower from your hip, trailing circles towards your navel, the slit of your dress that met your upper thigh.

“go on,” he urged, his voice tense from gritting his teeth. “tell me. tell me, and i’ll stop.”

you stayed quiet except for the whimper that left your throat when his fingers curled against your panties, a dampened spot ruining the fabric. there was a deep chuckle against your face, lando’s forehead still against your own. you tightened your lips together, not daring a word to spill.

“tell me, and i’ll let you go party with your new boy.”

“fuck you,” you bit out, seething with your desire, angered with his jealous antics.

“yeah? yeah? you want ‘ta fuck me?” there was no way of hiding his cocky grin. it could be seen from miles away, even when his face was millimeters from yours.

“you’re an asshole,” you heaved, your hips bucking when he began to slide your underwear to the side. your breaths were harsh against his cheeks.

“must like ‘em mean, then,” he cooed, followed by a deep chuckle. “‘cause you’re drippin’ for me.” you felt your slick seep around his fingers as h grazed the puffy lips of your cunt. your head was thrown back against the concrete wall, smacking against the surface. lando was quick to adjust your head, his fingers tugging into your hair.

“fuck,” you sighed, finding his pleasures undeniable. he was so on edge from seeing you kissing raphael, that he was lost in his madness. this pent up lust was bursting from its locked away jar, pouring its fury onto you. “touch me, lando. please–”

with a swift motion he perched you onto the porcelain sink, your head lolling against the mirror, supported by his palm. he tugged you forward so your glossy cunt stained the front of his black pants. the wet spot was pertinent, your face flushing with embarrassment. you were supposed to hate this. why did you love it?

“‘am touchin’ you, baby.” his middle finger teased you, blessing you with a split moment of euphoria of grazing your clit. you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “look at me,” his hand tightened in your hair. your eyes flashed open, face to face with his crooked, loving smile. “look at me when i make you cum.”

you nodded, whimpering rapidly. he grinned harder at your desperate, pleading tone. though you spoke no words, he could tell just how badly you needed him.

“inside,” your begging didn’t cease, especially when he was still refusing to slide a finger inside of you. “please, please—”

your words were cut off when his middle finger curled sweetly inside of you, eliciting the sweetest pleasure you have felt in weeks. the moan you delivered was guttural, deep, and most of all, primal. lando’s dick pulsated in his pants, his fingers twitching at your lewd voice.

a hand reached out to grip onto his bicep, your head falling into the crook of his neck. you felt undeniably at ease in his hold, despite the hurt that he’s caused you.

his finger began to slide in and out of you, scissoring you to high hell and back, and you were putty in his hands. moments like these is what he favored most with you, but he would take anything to be in your presence. he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he swooped you up from that asshole’s arms, leaving him shocked and disrespected. lando was keen enough to twist his head over his shoulder when he led you away, watching as raphael’s face contorted with disappointment. it had his jaw tensing, resisting the urge to smirk.

“come on, baby,” lando’s voice cut through your high, your naval tightening with a hot pressure. “know you’re close. can feel it.”

he added a second finger, using his thumb to roll over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the stimulation was overwhelming, your throat raw with the carnal moans he drew from your depths. he’d be the only one to hear any of these ever again. he promised himself that much.

your orgasm was imminent, the coil in your belly snapping with a hopeless yearning you’ve been deprived of for what feels like an eternity. slick covered the palm of his hand, and your eyes had locked onto his. he watched as you trembled with desire, legs twitched around his waist. with one quick move he brought his two fingers to your lips.

you knew what he wanted.

you’ve never tasted yourself before. but your lips parted, and he lathered your slick over your tongue. you sucked in earnest over his calloused digits, lips puckering, cheeks hollowing. you swallowed, letting your tongue linger over his fingertips.

“now you know,” he whispered, clutching you tight. “why i can’t stay away.” for a brief moment, you thought he was mentioning because of the taste of your cunt. but with the deep look in his eyes, you knew it meant more. you were made for him. both in spirit and sensuality.

lando spun you around from your seat atop the sink, having you flipped, staring at your reflection in the mirror. you look disheveled, and downright fucked. your feet met the ground, the palm of his hand spreading over the expanse of your back, flattening you to a ninety degree angle.

“lift your hips for me, love,” you obeyed without second thoughts, rising to your tip toes as he ran his fingers along the underside of your thighs, pulling down the fabric of your panties. they hit the floor, and your cunt went rigid with the cold air. but you heard lando making fast work with his belt, his jeans, and you sifted back and forth. you even turned to look at him over your shoulder, lashes batting unintentionally at the spring of his cock against his lower belly.

“missed this,” he breathed, saddling his hand at the base of your neck. you pushed into his hold, deepening the connection.

your exhaustion didn’t impede your ability to get fucked. that was for sure. lando wasn’t going to spare a single effort on your behalf. he was riled, pent up, and now he wanted to see tears in your eyes as you were split open on his cock. it was a promise.

“missed you.” you mumbled. lando’s hand tightened around the frontal base of your throat.

“what was that?”

you whimpered. “missed you!”

“atta girl.” he was pleased with your higher volume, and awarded you by edging the tip of his cock through your folds. you lurched forward, gripping onto the dish of the sink. a deep groan left you, and he gave you a grace period to adjust. but it took too long. you wanted him deep. bottomed out. until there was nothing else for you to give.

“show me,” you grit your teeth. “show me he’s not good enough.”

your words seemed to ignite a flame inside of lando that couldn’t be ignored. you felt him huff air, the sensation tickling your spine, and he thrust himself inside of you. forget a grace period, you were going straight to heaven.

you moaned, his cock stimulating a perverse area inside your cunt that no man could ever reach. lando was out for blood to prove that he was the only man that could truly fuck you. and fuck you he would.

the sound of skin slapping echoed through the bathroom. your moans intertwined with his mewls, creating an atmosphere derived from both of your pleasures alone. nothing would ever compare to this feeling. how he curved deliciously inside of you, how you tightened so mercilessly around his cock. he’d let himself run dry so he could feel your tight walls each night.

the pressure of his hand around your throat didn’t relent. with his index and thumb squeezing at every point he bottomed out, you swore you were seeing stars. you were an irrecoverable mess in lando’s arms, and that’s just the way he wanted you. in the reflection of the mirror stared the fading marks that fucker left on your skin. but he was determined to make his own. and it was different that you’d let him. without a doubt, he could bite through your skin, make you bleed for all you fucking cared.

“who’s fucking you this good?” lando asked, hand tightening briefly for your response. you were lost in your haze, unable to truly focus on his words. your brows furrowed.

“you,” you said, breathless, clenching onto the sink with all your prospective might.

“who?” he prodded further, opposite hand coming to rub at your clit. you seethed, breath tightening in your throat. tears burned at your retinas, the skillful work of his fingers bringing you to an oncoming orgasm. lando felt it, and paused his fingers.

you whimpered, then looked at him in the mirror. he loomed like no man you’ve ever seen. darkened eyes, sweaty hair. fuck, he’s so hot. “you!”

his fingers returned their assault on your clit, and you could feel the burning heat once more. you grinded hopelessly against the palm of his hand, which he responded as to pinching the bundle of nerves atop your cunt to with more pressure.

it didn’t take long before you were keeling over the sink, his hand around your neck forcing you to arch before him. with your unbearably tight cunt, he came with you, filling you with hot ropes of cum. the feeling of him warm, vested in your walls brought you a comfort like nothing else.

lando’s head fell forward with his heaving chest onto the base of your neck. his heart was beating so fast, you could feel it. you lifted yourself from the downward angle of the sink, his hands coming to steady you despite his exhaustion.

“i lied to you before,” he spoke into the skin of your neck. too fucked out to really process what he was saying, you turned slightly to catch one of his eyes. “you aren’t a favorite.”

you frowned, still confused, heart feeling ripped open once more.

“you’re the only girl.”

you turned fully this time to face him.

“what?”

“you heard me.” you did. that was true. but what you didn’t believe was true, was his words.

“don’t…” you begged. “don’t play with me anymore, lan…” the nickname rolled off your tongue with ease. “i can’t…i can’t wait for someone who doesn’t…” love, “want me the same.”

lando brushed a stray hair from your forehead. he let himself lean into you. your bodies fit together perfectly.

“what do you want, then?”

your voice was caught in your throat. there was a million things you wanted, but there was only one thing you needed.

“i need you.”

need cut through his body like wild flower to barley. need was the mending his heart needed. need was the remedy of his uncertainties about you.

his face upturned into a smile.

“i can’t do this,” he said, taking a breath. “any of this, without you. need you here, with me,” with his forehead touching yours, you could feel his lashes against your browline.

“lando…”

he shook his head. your name was soft on his tongue. “please, please, stay with me. i should’ve never left that hotel room. never.”

your cheeks were wet. but they weren’t from your tears. his. his lip was quivering when you opened your eyes, his own shut as if he were too afraid to face you.

and instead of answering him with words, you tilted your head up, and let your lips collide with his. torn into shock, lando’s eyes flew open, unbelieving of what was happening. you were kissing him. your lips on his, intimate. you wanted to be intimate with him, not just fuck him.

his eyes fluttered shut, and his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck. he returned your kiss, tongue eager to explore the cavern of your mouth, and you let him. you had been afraid to let him kiss you, fearful that you would become addicted to this pleasure.

you were right in your fear. there was never a universe where you wouldn’t be drunk on his tongue, craving his teeth clashing with your own. it was an ensued battle with your mouths, one you weren’t going to relent easily. but he remained victorious and let his tongue run over yours. the two of you were inseparable, body and spirit.

there was finally a blasted knock on the bathroom door, which had you jumping. lando turned his head over his shoulder, and was quick to drop to his knees to roll your panties back up.

“like you down there,” you commented from him on his knees. he turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, and kissed the skin of your thighs. when he stood at his full height, he adjusted his own pants, looking presentable enough.

“beautiful.” he complimented, leaning in for a plethora of kisses. he kissed all around your mouth, your nose, your jaw, before he landed on your mouth.

“i love you,” he blurted out against your lips. you gaped at him and he was worried you wouldn’t feel the same. but the two of you knew this answer for a long, long time.

your brows upturned. “i love you too.”

his hand fell on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom. “guess you’re my girl now, yeah?”

you slapped his bicep. “we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight…” you nodded.

he was happy enough with that answer.

“gotta let raphael down easy…” you mumbled as lando held the door open for you.

“oh…!” he said in an exaggerated tone. “that’s what his name is.”

taglist

@sofs16 @strengthandstay @mybluesoul1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

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lnfours · 2 months

Text

* ✰. — first place serotonin | l.n

summary: your best friend just won the miami grand prix. and what better way to celebrate then telling you he’s in love with you?

warnings: friends to lovers!au (..shocker), overall happiness and fun times, language, confessions, also a bit rushed because i wanted to get something out to you all asap 🧡 happy lando first win!! here’s to many more!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

everyone around you was silent. watching the gap between lando and max grow higher and higher with each passing second. your nerves were shot, anxiously waiting for either lando to cross the finish line in first or for max to inevitably overtake the boy in papaya and reclaim first as his.

but he didn’t. lando held on, everyone cheering and celebrating as he crossed the line in first place. winning his first ever grand prix, a dream that sometimes felt impossible to achieve, now unfolding before everyone’s eyes.

aarav and ria pulled you into a hug, the three of you laughing and cheering before aarav spoke, “c’mon! let’s go!”

the three of you headed towards the paddock, laughing and joining the sea of papaya. the three of you made your way into the crowd. everyone let the three of you towards the front, just in time to see him place his helmet on the ground before he started to run over.

he pulled everyone into hugs, but when it got to you, he felt a wave of something different. the way you looked celebrating him and his win, the way your smile lit up your entire face, the way you ignored the happy tears rolling down your cheeks. he was so in love with you, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“c’mere!” he smiled, you opened your arms, fully expecting a hug. but when he lifted you off the ground and over the barrier, you couldn’t help but squeal. once your feet were placed back onto the ground, the sounds of the mclaren team whistling towards the two of you teasingly was drowned out by how close he was.

he smiled softly down at you, “i had this whole thing planned, but right now seems like a better idea, and i don’t know if that’s because of the adrenaline or what but i just can’t keep this to myself anymore,” he started, “but i’m so fucking in love with you, y/n. i always have been, and i don’t want to pretend like i’m not anymore.”

you smiled at the boy dressed in papaya, shaking your head and laughing softly, “i’m tired of pretending like i’m not in love with you, too.”

that was all he needed to hear before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. everyone around you cheering and yelling excitedly, happiness radiating through the crowd. you smiled against his lips, uncaring of the cameras around you capturing the moment because the only thing you had your mind on was the man in front of you.

you pulled away and happily pulled him into another hug, head nuzzled in his neck. you didn’t care about how damp he was, drenched in sweat. the way this moment felt was definitely going to be engraved into your brain for a lifetime.

“i’m so proud of you,” you smiled, pulling away from the hug. your moment was cut short by andrea and zak yelling his name, telling him that it was time to head up to the podium. he turned back around to face you, almost like he was asking if it was okay if he went.

you nodded your head, “i’ll be here when you get back.”

he smiled, leaning in and pressing one more kiss to your cheek before walking backwards, still facing you as he called back to you, “got any plans tonight!?”

you laughed, shaking your head, “is this you asking me on a date?!”

“will you say yes if it is?!”

“definitely, yes!”

and with that he smiled, turning around to walk with andrea to head up to the podium. but not without one more glance your way.

aarav and ria were smiling, happy that their friends had finally caved in and realized that you both were meant to be.

everyone found their places to watch the podium celebration. you smiled and cheered happily as he took the top step for the first time, and certainly not his last.

he looked down at the crowd under him, his eyes only searching for one person. and when they found you, he smiled. a smile so bright it made your heart clench before you watched the way his mouth moved to silently say those three words.

‘i love you’.

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ivoryratdoggerythethird · 2 months

Text

ok but bsd chapter 114 revealing the flipside of the soukoku dynamic in all its glory like *chef's kiss*

turns out that when the mission's (almost) done and you put skk in a room with no witnesses they just become each other

dazai is the one unable to stay still, agitated and wearing his emotions openly and very much stressing about a plan he can't understand (how the tables do turn), literally YELLING and RUNNING of his own violation and doing actual labor of pulling out "fyodor" from beneath a whole ass helicopter while injured without asking for help because the brawns of the team is actually secretly a black cat character

insane how chuuya makes dazai look like the overactive dog archetype here like Mister Gravity Control and I Crack Walls & Chains With One Kick is just sitting full-on cheek on fist poker face watching his beanpole of a partner struggle. his health bar is like full too besides the brief drowning stint meanwhile he himself shot dazai like three times after he crawled out of a crashed elevator

(chuuya is actually such a little shit it's amazing like it was kinda shown in him just letting kunikida blow himself up without even trying to take on tecchou or as if he couldn't just fly the helicopter away with his ability? the pm's trump card, stronger half of soukoku? mans said "boss told me come get you" and by god that is the only job he will do, overtime means nothing to him because he can't read, what a king)

chuuya is literally only willing to do the BARE minimum it's hilarious like he's done his part, he's given the Oscar-winning vampire performance of a lifetime, now he's pulling a dazai-at-the-ADA and simply refusing to work like. chilling in the back while dazai monologues and fyodor dies. bouncing sigma like a tennis ball. chilling a corner while dazai brainstorms. leisurely following dazai's running. chilling in the back while dazai huffs and puffs to pull out the body.

the biggest bsd plot twist is that soukoku on and off the battle field just switch roles for who's lounging like a bored princess while the other toils and actually does the work. if they both ever actually work on something at the same time yokohama would probably explode.

#god imagine if thats how mori kept them from accidentally destroying the country #with their combined overpowered-ness and utter lack of common sense #“mori says its my turn to Think”#“oh thank god i've been waiting to sit around like a useless log”#the sigma show #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bsd #bsd manga #bsd ch 114 #my post

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

Text

busy.

ln x fem!reader

in which there’s a whole club of people waiting to celebrate the race winner, but he’s a bit busy…

hehehehe i’ve been cooking this one up since he won!! obsessed with this, it’s really not my best work in terms of literary masterpieces, but…. it’s horny self indulgence. enjoy, lemme know what you think, love you!!!

songs to set the mood: the alchemy by taylor swift, agora hills by doja cat, so high school by taylor swift, starboy by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni i am so serious! this is just. porn without plot (with a lil plot) like this is peak feral needy lando, dom!lando, oral (f&m receiving), spanking, accidental voyeurism?, max verstappen, dry humping, unprotected sex (don’t do that!), touch of fluff as well, established relationship, crying, overstimulation

3.8k words

tears well in your eyes, the blurry screen telling you absolutely nothing, but it doesn’t matter anymore. he’s done it. the screams engulfing the garage seem to rattle all around you, the vibrations pushing your elation up another notch.

lando norris, formula 1 race winner.

your lando.

his voice floods your ears, so loud that the headphones seem to quiver as he screeches. a few tears roll thick down your face when he thanks his mum and dad, dedicates the win to his grandma, but then he says your name and you forget how to breathe.

“i’m nothing without you, baby.” his voice breaks, and your body is wracked with sobs.

various arms are slung over your shoulder, members of the team guiding you out of the garage and into parc ferme. the metal barrier digs into your ribs as you lean against it, desperate to catch a glimpse of him. his car rolls into position, the p1 marker sending another wave of emotion through you, and when he pulls himself out, he stands tall, proud, points to the sky.

you fall in love with him all over again.

he’s slapped on the back and passed around by the drivers but when he sets his sights on the sea of orange, nothing else exists. he’s flying over your head before you can even register it, elevated by the team and you watch him in awe. when he sees you, eyes locking with yours, a heart-melting, pantie-dropping grin spreads across his face and you can see the redness lining his eyes.

i love you he mouthes.

he’s lowered to the ground, spinning round to face you immediately. he tugs you as close as he can, the barrier definitely leaving it’s mark on both of you, and kisses you messily. all of the energy that he has left, all that he can muster, is put into the kiss, leaving you breathless, tugging on the fabric of his race suit like you’ll die if he gets taken away.

“‘m so proud of you.” you whisper against his lips, shivering as his thumbs graze your cheekbones.

“i love you so fucking much.” he beams, teeth clashing with yours when he kisses you with a smile.

“go get that trophy, mr norris.” you coo, and he winks, pressing his lips to your forehead. then, he’s gone.

champagne vapour leaves your skin sticky.

“lando, we gotta go.” you breathe, head rolling back to give him even more access to your strained neck, resting against the door of your shared hotel room.

you’re draped in orange satin, obviously, the short dress clinging to you deliciously, the one you always pack just in case. lando had been trying to convince you to stay in and let him have his way with you, and the second he walked out of the bathroom, still dripping from his shower, there was no way the pair of you were heading anywhere in a hurry.

“says who?” he grunts, his hips digging into yours.

“there’s a whole club waiting to celebrate with you-“

“the only person i want to celebrate with is you.” he punctuates his words with a harsh nip of his teeth.

“lando.” you whine in protest, not because you actually want him to stop, but because you don’t want to deprive him of a night out with his friends.

“try and convince me to go one more time, and i’ll edge you until you fucking cry.” he licks up your neck, tugging you from against the door, and guides you towards the bed. “and when you’re begging for me to make you cum, i’ll get you dressed up all pretty and we’ll go to the club with you dripping down your thighs.”

your lips quivers, caught between your teeth at his promise. you know he means it. his eyes darken when you nod quickening your pace until you’re stood at the foot of the bed. he’d only made it as far as putting his jeans on, so you rake your nails down his chest, watching as the tanned skin pales as you dig your fingertips in.

you teeter on your tip toes, leaning up to kiss him but he pulls back, smirking, holding you at arms length while he wiggles his jeans off and clambers onto the bed. you pout, watching him position himself up against the headboard, curling two fingers that beckon you forwards. you kick off your heels, crawling up the bed until you sit pretty on his lap, your dress riding up your thighs as you straddle him, leaving the lace of your panties flush against the cotton of his underwear.

you lean in to kiss him, but his fingers catch your chin, holding you back. you whine at the way he restrains you for a second time, wanting nothing more to melt into his frame while you lick into his mouth. he tuts, damp curls falling over his forehead.

“five minutes ago you wanted to go out.” lando tilts his head accusingly, a teasing lilt to his tone.

“changed my mind.” you hum, attempting to roll your hips. he slaps your thigh, light enough that it doesn’t hurt, hard enough that you sink into submission.

“you’re gonna have to prove that to me.” he sighs, feigning sympathy. you’re pulsing against him, and he can feel the damp heat of your cunt. “you’re gonna grind your little pussy on me until i can see how wet you are. gotta convince me, baby.” he grins at you, flashing his teeth. your jaw goes slack.

“lan.” you moan, eyes widening at his instruction.

“show me how bad you wanna congratulate me.” lando’s voice drops an octave, gravelly and direct, sending bolts of lightning down your spine.

you rock your hips over his bulge, slowly at first, tentative for the first couple of glides. you can feel how hard he is, your clit bumping the thick head of his cock as you grind down on him. your wetness begins to seep through the skimpy lace as you pick up the pace, revelling in the friction, the fire that you’ve lit between your two bodies.

lando makes no effort to help you, not at first, watching smugly as you slick him up. he can feel your warmth washing over him, the way you struggle to keep going as the pleasure builds. he focuses his eyes on the splotch growing on his crotch, honing in on the way your folds are slipping out of your quite frankly useless underwear. his lip catches between his teeth, pupils blown wide. his self restraint completely dissolves, one hand tangling in your hair, slotting his lips over yours, while his other flies to your waist forcing your hips backwards and forwards.

“wanna get my tongue on you, taste the mess you’ve made.” he mumbles against your lips. your thighs clench around his waist, rutting frantically on his lap. “‘n then i’m gonna get my fingers inside of you. it’ll be so easy, won’t it? can feel you dripping already. messy girl.”

“please.” you rasp. “lando, i need you.” you’re pleading, pushing his curls back and tugging hard at the chocolate strands.

“oh, honey,” he starts, flipping you onto your back. you gasp, smoothing your hands over the slope of his back, your nails raking between his shoulder blades. “i’m gonna have you exactly how i want you.”

he doesn’t have to work too hard to get you naked, peeling sodden lace down your thighs and shoving the satin of your dress over your tits, off of your frame. it cascades onto the floor, wrinkled in a heap, but you couldn’t possibly care less, not when he’s snaking down your body on a mission. his tongue drags over your clavicle, over the curve of your breast, stopping briefly to tease your nipple. he scrapes his teeth over the bud, continuing his trail over your abdomen, the plush skin of your belly.

“say please.” lando taunts, staring up at you through thick lashes. he rests his head against your hip bone, raising an eyebrow. you’re shaking already, in no mood to play games. if this is what he wants, you can’t deny him. he’s your race winner.

“please, baby. want your tongue on me.” you pant, softening your eyes in sheer desperation.

“where?” he coos, punctuating his borderline cruel question with soft kisses over your navel.

you smile coyly, keeping eye contact as your fingers dart between your spread thighs. you dip into your folds, splaying them open for him, tracing your clit a few times. you’re utterly soaked, impressed almost.

“right here.” you’re blushing, but you know just how he likes it, and your tactics are proven right when he groans, guttural and feral, pinning your thighs to the mattress.

your head thuds against the pillows at the sensation of the first swipe, his tongue dragging from your opening to your swollen clit. his face is submerged between your thighs, you can’t see him anymore, but you can certainly feel him. you can feel the slow glide of his tongue, tasting every little drop of you, can feel the vibration when he hums out in pure bliss.

it makes your head spin, the way most guys would expect you to drop to your knees, but lando gets his kicks on his, lost between your thighs. your eyes roll back every time he burrows himself deeper, slurping obscenely where you’re dripping.

“lando!” you grit your teeth, nearing the edge, and it spurs him on, two fingers running up the crease of your thigh, lathering through your wetness.

the digits glide inside of you seamlessly, casting an echo of noise that makes you blush. he groans against your clit - you’re utterly soaked - sending a buzz shooting up your spine.

“oh, baby.” he slurs, enticed, rutting against the mattress. you’re in an absolute state, and it’s all his fault.

two fingers curl, your feet kick out uncontrollably, and he laughs, laughs, into your cunt. you can’t help yourself, barrelling towards your release, unable to resist the rush of white hot pleasure. he fucks his fingers into you even faster, you scream, throat going raw as he scissors in and out of you. your foot finds his shoulder, trying to kick him away, teetering dangerously close to the brink of overstimulation. he doesn’t let it phase him, aside from the furrowing of his brows in annoyance, slinging your leg over his shoulder and splitting you open.

“my- oh god.” you choke, spasming up the mattress. he’s not even thrusting his fingers anymore, instead he’s grinding them against that one special spot, sucking hard at your clit.

you cum again, limp on the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. you’re slurring his name, babbling incoherently when he pulls off of you, sitting back on his knees. he looks proud of himself, too proud, smirking at your lifeless body. you feel like you’re part of the mattress, so sunken into it and exhausted. he’s covered in you, lips swollen maroon, fingers coated. every part of him that has touched you seems to shine in the dim light. his curls have dried now, fluffy and untamed, falling over his greying eyes.

“taste better than champagne.” he whispers, falling onto his forearms and caging you in.

your skin litters with goosebumps, his bare chest against yours, and you crane your head, lazily kissing him. you can taste yourself on his lips, mouthing down his jaw until you reach the sensitive skin below his ear. you scrape your teeth down his jugular, slow, sinking in softly to the bulk of his shoulder. he falters, shivering, collapsing his entire body weight onto you.

plump lips suck purple splotches onto the base of his neck, where no one will see.

you want him to lose control, ram into you and fuck you like he’ll die if he doesn’t, so you continue to tease, misbehave as you rake your teeth over his bronzed skin. his eyes are shut, thick lashes dusting his cheekbones as he succumbs to your torture. your hand skims his belly, muscles pulled taut under your fingertips, and you find the band of his boxers, dipping under the fabric. he registers your touch, and something within him snaps, his eyes flying open. he rolls off of you, finding his feet as he moves from the bed to the mini fridge.

“on your knees.” he grins at you, beckoning you to the carpeted floor.

you’re dazed, staring at the green bottle in his hands. condensation runs down the thick glass of the champagne bottle and you blank, utterly perplexed by what he’s about to do, your thighs involuntarily clenching. lando’s impatient, tutting as his hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you down the bed towards him. you’re shocked back to reality by his brazenness, scrambling from the mattress. you fall to your knees, licking your lips in anticipation, watching him through gleaming doe eyes. he softens, captivated by how ready you are for him, but it’s short-lived and the smirk returns.

“go on, baby. you know what to do.” lando strokes your cheek soothingly. your fingers curl into his waistband once again, and this time he lets you drag his boxers down. his cock springs free, hard and weeping, and your mouth fills with saliva, urgently taking him into your hand. “open wide.”

you look up at him just in time, watching how he raises the champagne bottle. he shakes it, once, twice, and your jaw drops as he pops the bottle. the liquid sprays, frothy and golden, dripping down your chest, over your tits, down your belly. you’re sticky, stickier, watching him in awe as the liquid pools around your knees. you notice how he’s glistening, the spray catching his abs, dripping south.

the noise he makes is carnal, a sigh of relief sounding when you lick over his hip bone, tracing your tongue over his pelvis until you reach the base of his cock. his hips stutter when you take him between your lips, the tip hitting the back of your throat as he immediately gives in to the warmth of your wet mouth. one of his hands works through your hair, bobbing you backwards and forwards, the other clasping tight around the neck of the bottle. he raises it to his parted lips, tipping his head back as he does, the liquid falling into his mouth. your eyes trace the curve of his neck, the swell of his lips, the way his knuckles have turned white contrasting the green glass. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were dripping onto the carpet.

“look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” lando grins dopily, his nails scratching over your scalp. the moan that emits, low and needy from the back of your throat, makes him shudder. “enough now.” he pulls you off of him, but he leaves you on your knees.

the hand in your hair travels to cup your jaw, his thumb flush against your reddened lips. he pulls them apart, bringing the bottle down to your level. you accept it, welcoming the fizzy burst of liquid, swallowing it down in gulps that make your head spin. there’s pride in his eyes when you keeps yours trained on him.

“so good for me, so well behaved.” he mumbles, more to himself it seems, but the praise still leaves you weak.

lando extends his hands, the bottle forgotten on the desk, and he pulls you to your feet, flush against him. you grab at him desperately, pawing at his lean body like he’ll disappear.

“you’re so pretty.” he whispers, nosing over your jaw. you flush, cheeks tinting deep and warm. “‘m so in love with you.” he purrs into your ear.

heat and raw emotion flood through your veins, and you’re shoving him backwards towards the bed, climbing on top of him. your knees bump his hips as you straddle him, your hair fanning his shoulders as you kiss him hard.

“love you. ‘m so proud. wanna show you.” your words come out frenzied, muffled as they get lost to his mouth. your teeth clash with his, his winning smile moulding against yours.

“yeah, baby? gonna show me?” lando’s eyes rake over your frame, his hands guiding your hips. you raise yourself up, your hands lining you up, and then…

“oh.”

“fuck.”

you sink down on him, filling yourself up slowly, the both of you panting already. the glide is slow, easy; he’s so big but you’re so wet.

“aren’t you glad we didn’t go out?” he hisses through gritted teeth, entranced by the way you feel, everywhere, all over him.

you nod, frantic in your agreement, your eyes rolling back in your head as you bottom out. it’s addictive, the stretch of him, your hands gliding over his abs as you try to find some balance. you rock your hips, revelling in the slow grind, up and down. your clit grazes his pubic bone with every rise and fall and you swallow hard, his body sticky under your fingertips.

“you did so good today, lan, so pretty up on that top step.” you pant, circling your hips. he groans, pulling you down so that you’re chest to chest, your lips centimetres apart, when the moment is stolen.

lando’s phone buzzes, over and over, max verstappen’s face filling the iphone screen. lando looks at the device on the bedside table, cursing under his breath.

“must be wondering where the race winner is.” you giggle, choosing to make light of the situation, rather than dwell on your ruined orgasm.

“he can wait.” lando grunts, fingers bruising your hips when he flips you onto your back, his cock staying buried so deep inside of you that you see stars when you hit the mattress.

your leg is thrown over his shoulder callously, a stoniness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. he’s determined to finish you off, show you just how bad he’s wanted you all day, remind you that you’re in bed with a someone who knows how to win. the angle change is jarring, it takes you a minute to adjust, not that he gives you the courtesy, fucking into you how you both like it as the call rings out through the room.

“baby- lando!” you yelp, your belly tight. the waves of pleasure swell in your core, his merciless antics send you barreling towards another orgasm. you’re teetering over the edge, his thumb flush against your clit, spasming at his manipulation, dangerously clos-

buzz buzz buzz buzz.

“for fuck sake!” lando swears, pulling out of you. you whine wantonly at the loss, pouting up at him.

he drags you to the edge of the bed until your legs hang over, flipping you angrily onto your belly. your cheek is pressed into the duvet, your toes barely graze the floor. his ringtone continues to sound out and he hastily grabs his phone. he hits the green button the same time he slides back into your cunt.

“what, max?” he spits, thrusting into you, so deep that you can’t help the screech that burns the back of your throat. it’s obscene, really, the way you gush around him at the knowledge that someone else is listening in, at the fact that lando takes pride in how good he makes you feel.

you try to muffle your cries, really, you do, but lando has other plans. he gathers your hair, winding it around his fingers so that he can pull your face out of the comforter. you sob, loud, the lewd squelch of where you’re joined with him more than audible.

“i’m busy. fuck off.” lando growls throwing the phone down onto the bed, conveniently right next to your head. the call is still in progress, but max is quick to hang up when he hears your shaky breath, poorly concealed squeals.

“you’re insane.” you manage to choke out. he laughs wetly, the sound making you dizzy.

lando shuffles the pair of you up the bed, propping you onto your knees, all the while hammering into you with that athletic stamina that makes your head spin. the pad of his index finger traces your thigh, finding home on your clit and the tears fall harder, blurring your vision. he pulls your back to his chest, beginning a deep grind that renders your speechless.

“you liked that, didn’t you? him hearing how good i make you feel.” lando’s breath fans the shell of your ear. you nod, mumbling something incoherent, too blissfully exhausted.

‘cuz you’re so good to me. so so good to me.

“thought about shoving your panties in your mouth to shut you up, but you ruined them, didn’t you baby?” lando circles your clit harder, tugging at your earlobe “remember? when you weren’t being a good for me? but you are now, aren’t you, honey? you’re my good girl, hm?”

you clamp down around him, heat licking down your spine. you’re clammy with sweat, glazed with champagne, at one with him. lando shudders as you tighten around him, holding you as close as he can get. you writhe against him when you hit your peak, slumping against him as you quiver. pearly whites sink into your flesh, hard enough to to ground you, not enough to hurt you. you love it, him, everything about this. you coax him into his orgasm, his thrusts turn sloppy and he cums, thick and hot.

it takes a solid five minutes before you can move, the pair of you crawling up the bed, stretching like two sun-kissed cats. you’re sweaty, stuck together tangled between white bedding that definitely needs changing.

“that was-“

“better than any race win.” lando sighs, languidly smiling against your hair line where he lays gentle kisses, his entire demeanour changed in a matter of minutes.

“you’re just saying that.” you tease, drumming your fingers over his chest.

“no, ‘m not. i loved every moment of today, best day of my life,” he breathes, dazed. “but i love you more.”

max sips his drink, the dial tone sounding through his ears.

“just won a fucking race and he’s not here yet.” oscar laughs. typical lando.

the call goes to voicemail, but max is drunk, persistent, and quite frankly, feeling a little annoying.

“‘m gonna try him again.” max nods his head, tapping against his phone screen impatiently.

“did you consider the fact that he might be… busy?” charles smirks into his drink, slumping against the back of the booth.

it’s too late, the ferrari drivers suggestion falls on deaf ears. max has made the call, again, but this time he gets an answer.

“where the fuck are you?” max asks, but then his face pales.

“what?” oscar tilts his head, watching in confusion as max wrinkles his nose.

the phone goes flying from max’s hands, thudding against the cushioned seats, his jaw hanging agape. once the disbelief subsides, he’s giggling like a child.

“guess he was busy then, hm?” charles raises a knowing eyebrow.

“yeah,” max is red now, cackling. “something like that.”

hehe whoops

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#lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris oneshot #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 fic #formula 1 smut #f1 fluff #formula 1 fluff #f1 driver x you #formula 1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #formula 1 driver x reader #lando norris imagine #f1

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starkwlkr · 1 month

Text

american royalty | max verstappen

kennedy!reader

US GRAND PRIX (TIME SKIP)

Max was in panic mode. Little baby Luke did not want to leave his father’s side. Yeah, it was cute, but Max had to be in the car in five minutes.

“I don’t want to leave you either, baby, but papa has to go race.” Max whispered to the seven month old. It amazed y/n and Max how quickly Luke had grown.

Y/n wanted to burst into tears right then and there in Max’s driver’s room, but she held it in. She loved her boys so much.

“You should go, I don’t want you to be late.” Y/n told Max, which made him frown. “You’ll see us after.” She chuckled and grabbed Luke from Max’s arms. Instantly, the boy started to whine.

“It’s okay, Luke, papa is just going to win the race and then he’ll be back for more cuddles.” Max pressed a light kiss to his son’s head.

Y/n and Max kept your relationship very private so no one apart from their families knew about their relationship or baby Luke. When she did attend a race, she watched from Max’s driver’s room. Usually she was alone, but now she had Luke to keep her company. Before y/n could say something, Max turned to her.

“How much longer do you think you and Luke will be watching from here? Don’t get me wrong, I love you both for coming. I think it would be better if my family watches from the garage.” Max waited for you answer. He was sure y/n was going to be mad at him for even suggesting that idea, but she smiled at him.

“You read my mind.” She kissed his lips.

So without hesitation, Max grabbed her hand and together as a family, they walked in the direction of the Red Bull Garage.

When Max saw photographers start to notice y/n, he grabbed Luke from her and took off his Red Bull hat, using it to shield Luke from the cameras. They both agreed to keep their son away from the media. They quickly arrived to the garage just in time.

“Check’s wife, Carola, is here. You can sit with her so you don’t have to be alone.” Max said as he led her through the garage. “And she has kids so that’s something you both have in common!” He tried to lighten up the mood.

“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” She tickled Luke’s side, which made the boy giggle.

“Max!” His race engineer, Gianpiero, called out. “Who’s this smiley boy?” He waved to Luke.

“My son, Luke, and this is my wife, Y/n.” Max introduced her to the British man. She didn’t correct Max on the term he used for her, it felt right coming from his mouth.

“Welcome to the Red Bull family!” He smiled at y/n.

After talking for a short time, Max had to leave so he gave y/n and Luke a kiss and a hug then left. She was introduced to Carola. It didn’t take long for the two women to get along.

Halfway through the race, the camera was focused on y/n for a few seconds. She was looking at a different monitor so she didn’t even realize she was on tv.

“And we have American royalty in the paddock today. There she is, Miss Y/n Kennedy, daughter to the late JFK Jr. and his wife Carolyn. Didn’t know she was a Red Bull fan.” Crofty said.

Immediately, Twitter was having a field day.

Y/n’s phone was flooded with notifications, but she ignored them. Baby Luke and Y/n were about to witness Max win.

As predicted, Max came in first with Checo taking second place. While Carola took her kids to watch their dad on the podium, Y/n stayed behind with Luke. As much as she wanted to watch Max, she didn’t want to expose Luke to everyone.

While the Red Bull team celebrated another win, y/n looked down at her son. “I think dad would’ve loved to be here, don’t you think?” Y/n asked. “Mom on the other hand . . . She would’ve loved Max that’s for sure.”

The topic of her parents made her emotional so she stopped talking. But it was definitely clear that y/n’s parents would’ve loved Max. Even if the media painted him out to be some kind of villain, Max Verstappen was far from it.

Max quickly made his way back to his family after the podium celebrations. He was eager to show his son his trophy, but before he could do that, he was stopped by Charles.

“You’re dating THE y/n kennedy?!”

“How do you even know?” Max wondered.

“Mate, you’re trending all over twitter. The cameras showed her, but what I want to know is why didn’t you tell me? I thought we agreed to tell each other everything!”

“You agreed, I didn’t.” Max corrected him.

“Still! You’re basically important in the eyes of america now. So if you get married, does that mean you’re automatically a US citizen and you can be president?” The Ferrari driver asked.

“I’m pretty sure in order to be president you have to be born in the US— why am I still talking to you? I have to go see my family.” Max said as he ran to the Red Bull garage.

“Congratulations, mr. president!”

Of course calling Max ‘mr. president’ became an inside joke in the paddock.

When Max made it back to the garage, he saw y/n talking with several drivers, one being the only American driver, Logan. At least they were keeping his family company.

“When Max is on break, he sleeps through the night, but he wakes up several times when his dad is gone. He’s such a daddy’s boy.” Y/n explained to Logan, Lando and Oscar.

“Of course he is, I’m the best dad in the world.” Max interrupted.

“Look at you, daddy Max.” Lando joked.

“Oh god, mate. Don’t ever say that again.” Oscar said.

“Anyways . . . How’d you like the race, y/n?” Logan asked the kennedy woman. He felt so at home at the moment. He was so honored to even be talking to someone related to the president of his country.

“It was amazing. Luke and I enjoyed every minute of it. Maybe we’ll just have to come back for another race.” Y/n looked at Max with hopeful eyes. Baby Luke cooed at his father.

“We are going to Mexico next and you love Mexico . . .”

“Great, we’ll be seeing the first family back in the paddock. It was great to meet you, y/n and you too baby Luke.” Lando smiled cheekily at the mom and son.

“You know Charles just called me Mr. President and now this? What else is going to happen?” Max laughed.

“Who knows, maybe you might end up being the president?”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #max verstappen x you #kennedy!reader

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teddynottss · 1 month

Text

• - FUCK ME IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER - •

PAIRING(S): theodore not x fem. reader

WARNING(S): smutt

SUMMARY: after winning his quidditch, you realize that your bf wasnt as happy as he usually is, and when you ask him about it, his jealousy is to be revealed

A/N: sorry this is a bit short im a bit unmotivated rn!

——————————————————

You were at your bf’s quidditch game, watching as theodore leads his team to victory, him being captain. Throughout the game, your eyes never leave your bf, you loved watching him play, he looked so good.

Then, you notice your boyfriend clench his jaw as Cormac, flies around where you’re standing. He manages to push the Gryffindor boy hence making him fall to the floor. The game ends with slytherin winning and so the team decides to celebrate the night with champagne in the common room.

Later that night, you get to the common room, ready to meet him since you haven’t talked since the game. He was sat on the couch with a cigarette in his hand, an expression on his face you could read, he’s pissed.

Astoria who also just arrived meets her partner Mattheo and sits on his lap beside Blaise and Enzo. On another couch Regulus and Tom were sat next to the fireplace whispering something inaudible.

You get on your bf’s lap and greet him with a kiss on his cheek. He kisses your forehead sliding his hand down your hair to play with it. “You did so good today baby” you speak. He replies with a quick hmm, his jaw clenched. He was lost in thought, although, you weren’t sure what it is that he’s thinking about.

“Is something wrong teddy?” you hesitate. He looks at you, then says, “Cormac, he was looking at you and flying around you the whole time today, and i got jealous so i pushed him off and hurt him.. bad. And now i’m kicked out of the team for the rest of the season.”

A big wave of guilt hit you as you shuffled on his lap, “theo i am so sorry.. i promise i wasn’t looking anywhere near Cormac, i mean why would i? you were perfect baby, you looked so handsome playing and you were so good at it.”

Theo smiled at you, kissing your temple. “Dont blame yourself for this, i know you would never even glance at him i trust you, but i got so mad and.. yeah.” “what can i do to help you?” you question. “Let me fuck you real hard please” he says, gulping.

“uhh.. theo are you sure-“ “yes yes” he nodded. “okay then fuck me if it makes you feel better”. At your mark, theo removes you carefully off him and stands up before taking your hand in his and leading the both of you to his dorm.

“Please no loud sounds, im tryna sleep soon” Blaise joked. Once you got to his dorm, he began kissing you hungrily and desperately while removing your clothes. Remaining in your matching set of lingerie, he pushed you to the bed and got on top of you. Still kissing you, you helped him get out of his clothes, shirt, pants, then boxers.

He then began leaving trails of kisses down your stomach, his finger-trip trailing the curves of your body until it reached your panties. He slid your panties down, flipping you over so that you’re on top. He removed your bra and then used his hands to slowly lower you on top of him.

You moaned as he entered you, adjusting to his size before you began riding him. Your hands on his stomach, you ride him increasing your pace a bit every now and then. Your hair wrapped around his fingers, as whimpers leave his mouth. He grabs your neck, lowering you to him so he kisses you. He bites your lip making you feel your orgasm near.

Then, he flips you over, making the position deeper, and starts thrusting in an out of you. His pace quick, he kisses you, your tongues intertwining, he then moves to your neck and starts biting on your skin.

Thats sends you releasing your cum without a warning instead a scream which makes theo throw his head back “come inside me” you ask him to which he does. You both come down from your highs as he slumps next to you on the bed.

“If i get to fuck you like this i might as well never play on the team again” he joked. “oh shut up theo,” you slapped his arm. he chuckled picking you up bridal style “come lets get you cleaned up principessa”.

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #smut #theodore nott #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut

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vivwritesfics · 1 month

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Hii!! Could you please write a Max verstappen x soulmate reader. Like they can speak in each other's minds and how they first met. Like fluff or angst or whatever you want . You make the call. Please 🥺🥺

LMAOOOO IM LITERALLY WRITING THIS FOR RHETT ABBOTT

Nothing, just an inchident. Fucking asshole.

Those were the first words her soulmate ever said to her, the first time she heard his voice in her head. She stopped what she was doing, looking around with wide eyes.

What the fuck?

And that was how it started. The two had be so fucking surprised, buy recovered quickly. They gave awkward introductions, without actually telling each other anything about themselves.

It took the two of them a moment to realise that, whatever they thought, the other person could hear.

It seemed the two of them hadn't shut up since.

She learnt pretty quickly that he loved to talk, that he loved explaining things. He was a nerd, he loved gaming. She could have listened to him go on about gaming for hours (and she often did).

She couldn't remember what she had told him. Definitely everything but her name. God, how long had it been since his voice first entered her head.

Hey, she said as she woke up.

There was usually no response as she waited for him to wake up. She'd tried to use this to work out where in the world he was, but he was always moving, always on different time zones.

A few hours later, there he was. Hello, schat, he said in her mind. A small smile crossed her face. Are you doing anything nice today?

He rarely spoke about his own day, she noticed. But it wasn't a problem. If he wanted to her know, she'd know. My dad got me tickets to see my local race with him, she replied, pausing her makeup to concentrate on talking to him.

There was a beat before he responded. You still there? She asked, pausing on her eye liner.

What race? Cars or horses?

Cars, she responded.

Again, there was a moment of silence. But then, Not the Formula One, right?

She thought back to what her father had told her. Yeah, the Formula One.

Her soulmate when quiet after that. There was a good few hours where she finished getting ready and went with her father to the race track. All that time she'd been trying to talk to her soulmate, and all that time she'd been getting nothing in return.

It was a little disheartening, thinking her soulmate didn't want to talk to her.

No, it was really disheartening.

As she and her father sat in the stands, she couldn't help but sulk. What had she done to upset him so bad he didn't want to hear from her? Of course he could hear everything she was thinking, but she didn't much care if he wasn't going to reply.

But then all twenty cars were on the track and the lights were flashing red, ready to go green.

I'm going to win this one for you.

It had been so unexpected, it nearly had her jumping out of her seat. What? Are you here?

As soon as I'm standing on that podium, you'll know it's me.

She must have realised it then, that her soulmate was down in the number on Red Bull car. She didn't take her eyes off of it for the entirety of the race (unless she was forced to). Holy shit, that was her soulmate down there.

And he did win it. Won it for her. She watched it all, him finishing first, the podium celebrations.

How do I get to you? She asked as she hopelessly looked around. Max Verstappen was her freaking soulmate!

Stay right where you are, schat. I'll come to you.

She told him where she was, apparently able to do that now she knew for sure who her soulmate was. And there she waited as he finished a debrief with the team and got changed.

But then he was striding towards her, cap pulled low. For so many years he'd been just a voice in her head. And now he was in front of her. Smiling down at her with surprise in his eyes.

"You're beautiful." Those were the first words he said to her, the first words that weren't echoing around her head.

"So are you." Wiping her hands on her jeans, she held one out and gave him her name.

Max took her hand and shook. "I'm Max," he said, wearing his usual pretty smile.

Holy fuck, Max Verstappen really was her soulmate.

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sunsburns · 1 month

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friend or foe?

pairing: dodge mason x fem!reader

summary: dodge mason has always had a hard time trusting people, but then he found you, and you made his life a little easier to get by. however, after becoming entangled with carp's wicked game of panic, he's starting to doubt your loyalty when you gain more points than him during a challenge.

—or: dodge mason is convinced you’re a traitor after you knock him off the top three

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: SMUT 17+, p in v, unprotected sex, slightly public sex (in a closet at a party), mean!dodge... but let’s be so fr he'd do anything to win panic, dom dodge, no use of y/n, manipulative tactics, situationships, summer hookups, kinda friends with benefits (?)

a/n: the lack of dodge mason fics is unsettling and i knew i had to take one for the team and wrote this short fic i hope yall enjoy!

Dodge Mason is convinced you're working against him.

In Panic, alliances were unspoken but understood. The game didn't officially recognize teams, but if you wanted to make it far, a little bit of teamwork never hurt anybody. Dodge thought the two of you had that kind of alliance. It was in the stolen glances you shared across the room, each one lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary. There was a silent communication in the way your eyes would meet and hold, speaking volumes without a single word.

When you suggested he jump from a higher point on the cliff, promising more points, he believed you. And when he whispered the answers to the riddles hidden around Carp, he trusted that you wouldn't use them against him. The time you shoved him out of the way just before he could step onto one of Spurlock's bear traps—saving him from a potentially crippling injury—solidified his belief that you had each other's backs. The memory of the rusted metal teeth, camouflaged under layers of dirt, was a grim reminder of how close he had come to disaster. He owes you his leg, maybe even his life, this summer.

But gratitude turned bitter when you emerged from the farm with triple the items he had managed to gather. The look of triumph on your face as you snapped your haul with photos, pulling yourself from seventh place to the top three, was a knife in his back. Each item you produced knocked him, and the others, further down the rankings.

Dodge felt his blood run hot the next day as you walked with a noticeable pep in your step, grinning from ear to ear. The pride radiating from you was like salt in a wound. As if to make matters worse, Dodge's anger simmered when he spotted you giggling on a lawn chair with Ray Hall at your side during the Players' Ball.

You hold a plastic cup loosely in your hand, leaning closer to Ray to hear him over the music. Your short dress rides up as you lean in, but you don't seem to mind, bursting into another fit of giggles and playfully smacking his arm. Ray watches you with a sick grin, clearly enjoying your attention.

Dodge frowns. He had thought you were better than falling for Ray Hall's desperate antics. Seeing the two of you trade whispers and giggles like middle schoolers sharing secrets only confirms his suspicions. After the Walk the Plank challenge, he knew Ray wanted him to fail and had done everything possible to ensure Dodge wouldn't win.

He had told you about it, but you had brushed it off. "You're overthinking it, Dodge," you had said. You swore that Ray was just trying to mess with his head, not that he actually wanted him to get hurt. But now, watching you laugh with Ray, grinning about your position in the top three, Dodge could no longer see you as a friend or an ally. You were an opponent. You were against him now. He's sure of it.

Dodge replayed the events in his mind, trying to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. Had he misread the situation? Were you playing him the whole time? The anger and confusion twisted inside him, morphing into a resolve.

The game is ruthless, and so are you, it seems.

"Uh oh, trouble in paradise?" Natalie slumps against his shoulder, the contents of her cup nearly spilling. Drunk as she is, she tries not to laugh when she spots you with Ray. "She's probably just trying to butter him up for Heather."

"Right," Dodge mutters, his eyes never leaving you.

"She's too sweet for Ray. He's all rough edges." Natalie frowns and steps away from Dodge, barely holding herself up. "I'm gonna go look for Heather," she says, but before she leaves, she pats Dodge on the back and leans close to whisper, "If you really think she's double-crossing you, remember: keep your friends close, enemies closer."

And close he kept you.

Chest pressed to your back, his arm circles your waist, free hand gripping your neck and chin, keeping your head up so it falls back against his shoulder. You try to hold onto something, reaching for the walls of the small closet as Dodge fucks you from behind to the muffled sounds of music and chatter from the other side of the door.

His hands had pushed up the ends of your dress, letting it sit high up on your stomach, your panties lost somewhere in the heated moment where his lips had once been pressed against your own, lipstick smudged on his mouth and your own.

You're making noises that only spur him on; broken moans and cries and whimpers. Breathy praises of, "so good," and "yes, just like that," or "please, don't stop," and his favourite was your whisper of his name. "Dodge," where you were so gone that you couldn't think of anything else to say but his name. "Dodge, fuckfuck- Dodge. Mason. Fuck."

It makes him wonder, almost wistfully, what it would be like if neither of you had joined Panic. He imagines nights spent in the quiet intimacy of just the two of you, free from the game's pressures. Every morning, he'd wake up with you by his side, your presence a comforting constant. Each second of summer would be yours to share.

Before Panic, there had always been something unspoken between you, a spark that ignited in stolen moments. Hidden kisses behind the diner where he worked felt like secret treasures, each one a promise of something more. The lingering touches when you'd pass him a pen in class sent shivers down his spine, a silent communication of desire. He had wanted you for so long, and he knew you felt the same. It was in the way your eyes would lock onto his, a shared understanding that needed no words.

While Dodge had his own reasons for taking Panic so seriously, he couldn't fathom why you would cross him the way you did. The betrayal cut deep, not just because of the game but because it was you. Maybe you enjoyed watching his heart crumble, deriving some twisted satisfaction from his pain. The thought tormented him, feeding his growing resentment and confusion. How could something that once felt so right go so terribly wrong?

"Fuck, Dodge-"

Your hands find a home in his hair, unable to find anything else to stabilize yourself with. His hand on your neck slides down from your collarbone to your chest and rests on your breast, fingers teasing your nipple through the fabric of your dress, the ghost of his touch has you shuddering.

You turn your head and try to kiss him, but he dodges it and readjusts his grip on you, loosening his arm around your waist so his hand could trail further down to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins.

He pushes into you a little rougher, a little faster and holds onto you harder, hard enough that his hands will leave marks on your skin when he brings one of them back to your neck, squeezing. Dodge leans down to bite your shoulder so he can hold back his moans, shutting his eyes tightly so he can only focus on the way your walls are tight and wet around his cock, sucking him in with each thrust, pulsing as you creep to your orgasm and he works himself to his own.

"Dodge," you huff, "I- oh, oh,"

Dodge wonders if you know that he knows about your alliance with Ray. He wonders if it's true at all or if he's made it all up in his head and is causing himself to spiral with Natalie telling him things like the devil on his shoulder.

"You-" he groans out, too far gone to string together a coherent sentence, a bit afraid that if he spoke he'd only call you a traitor and a liar. "You feel so good, baby."

You try kissing him again, but he doesn't let you, your lips meeting the shell of his ear as he bites onto your shoulder again. You pout, tugging his hair once before dropping your hands to hold his arms.

"Please, Dodge." You whine, "Kiss me, please, I-" A moan causes you to stutter, "I need it- you so bad, please."

Then, there’s a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "Yeah?"

"Yes, please," you gasp.

"Just how you need Ray, right?"

You falter, "Wha-what?"

"You heard me."

Dodge holds you by the hips, pulling his arms from your grasp and starts to pound into you again like a petty whore, as if you owe it to him to have your night ruined and his a little better as he chases his orgasm with your tight cunt.

And when it comes, his teeth skin into the skin of your shoulder again, muffled moans slipping past his lips, and he digs his fingernails into your sides, letting your unsatisfied whimpers coax him through it. Dodge keeps rolling his hips against your ass in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking bruises into your shoulder, up your neck and across your throat: he’s mumbling something incoherent, slurring words of "traitor," and "trusted you" into your skin. Each fresh bruise has you gasping for his name.

He stuffs his cock back into his pants, even tugs the ends of your dress back down to your thighs for your own sake, or maybe it's to embarrass you further. Dodge doesn't wipe your lipstick from his mouth before he presses his lips against your cheek, ignoring the way you weakly say his name, refusing to let you explain yourself.

He pulls away and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Dodge never realizes that he should've heard you out until Heather Nill rushes up to his search of you, breathless and panicked even through the drunken gaze in her eyes. "Ray's lookin' for her. Nothing good."

Heather explains that Ray is on the hunt for you, furious after discovering that you had given him false information about someone who supposedly had intel on future challenges. The lie had cost Ray twelve points, getting him caught by a judge and knocking him out of the top three, bringing Dodge back up, his name right under yours.

He almost turns back, to find you in the darkness of some forgotten corner, where he imagines you, broken and tear-streaked. But the resurgence of himself in the top ranks fuels a different fire within Dodge, one that drowns out the empathy he feels for you. This time, when the next challenge looms, he can't afford any more distractions—not from Ray, Natalie, or even you.

reblog to support your writers!

#i hope u guys understand this vision #like dodge is lowkey an ass #but i love his ass #loba try not to write plot with smut challenge #mike faist #panic show #panic tv show #panic #dodge mason x reader #dodge mason #dodge mason angst #dodge mason smut #mike faist x reader #panic x reader #x reader #challengers x reader #art donaldson #dodge’s cowboy hat #panic (2021)

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