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Charles Leclerc:
Always and Forever (18+)
Finally Mine (18+)
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Lando Norris
....and, and, and (18+)
Lipgloss, by Lando (18+) Part 2 - Oh Baby (18+)Teaser (18+)
Miami GP - Part 1 Part 2 (18+)
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Why Me? (18+)
Fuck (18+)
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You Were Mine All Along (18+)
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Summer Break (18+)
Only Mine (18+)
Tip-sy (18+)
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Zandvoort Fuck (18+)
What's yours is mine, what's mine is yours (18+)
Another day, Another shitshow, Another fuck (18+)
Caught (18+)
Riding his pole, when he got pole (18+)
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Summary: You’re the model the tabloids love to write about and the paddock loves to gossip about. When McLaren decide your reputation is bad for their brand, Lando is forced into hiding your relationship from the public, letting the world believe you’ve broken up while you’re still very much together.
Warnings: misunderstandings, media scrutiny, gossip culture, public vs private relationships, team pressure, career threats, jealousy, relationship tension, emotional conflict, slow-burn relationship drama.
Word Count: 7.2k
Everyone in Formula 1 knows who you are. Not because they know you. But because they know the headlines.
Your face has been on magazine covers since you were seventeen. Runways in Paris, Milan, New York. Campaigns for brands that own entire buildings in London.
You’re not just a model. You’re an icon. But you’re also the girl the tabloids adore.
The girl leaving nightclubs at 3am in vintage sunglasses and fur coats. The girl photographed lighting cigarettes outside hotel balconies. The girl whose name trends every few months next to words like scandal, controversy, or rehab rumours. The Kate Moss of your generation.
And somehow… You’re dating Lando Norris. Which is how your name entered Formula 1.
The paddock has decided who you are. They always do. You’re the girlfriend they whisper about between briefings and sponsor events. The one the drivers pretend they don’t follow on Instagram. The one the WAGs absolutely talk about. The one the team principals are quietly relieved isn’t their problem.
Andrea Stella is always polite. Zak Brown is even warmer. They shake your hand when you occasionally appear at a race. They ask about your work. They smile in photographs.
But you can see it in the way their eyes flick briefly toward Lando afterwards.
The silent calculation. This could be a distraction. This could become a problem.
They don’t say it. But they think it.
The drivers know everything, even if they pretend not to. They’ve seen the photos. They’ve seen the headlines. They’ve seen the paparazzi shots of you leaving Paris clubs barefoot at sunrise.
You know they talk. You know they send screenshots in their group chat. You also know they’re nice to you when you show up.
That’s the strange part.
Max will nod politely. George asks how work is going. Lewis compliments a campaign he saw. Carlos asks about fashion week.
But you can feel the curiosity. You can feel the gossip behind it.
And the girls? They’re always polite. Always smiling.
But you’re not stupid.
You see the glances. The quiet conversations. Some of them follow you. Some of them don’t. Some of them definitely send your headlines into private group chats.
You don’t blame them though, your reputation isn’t subtle.
Which is why you rarely attend the races. The too polished paddock isn't your world. Isn't a world you're comfortable in. Not with everyones eyes on you with every movement. Not with every camera zooming into your eyes to see how red they are. Not with everyone quietly judging you, whilst simmutaniously being nice to your face, just for them to head back to their hotel that night and disect your every word from that day in their groupchats.
The McLaren meeting room is too quiet. Not the normal quiet where engineers are typing and someone’s tapping a pen. The other kind. The kind where something awkward is about to happen.
Lando knows it the moment he walks in.
Andrea's already sitting at the table. Zak's standing by the window.
Neither of them look angry. Which somehow makes it worse.
Lando drops into the chair opposite them, relaxed, legs stretched out. Oscar follows him in and immediately sits beside him like he’s attending a movie.
Andrea raises an eyebrow. “Oscar.”
Oscar shrugs. “I’m bored.”
Zak sighs quietly but doesn’t push it. If anything, Oscar being there makes this easier. Less confrontational.
Lando leans back. “So,” he says casually, “what’s this about?”
Andrea folds his hands. “We wanted to talk about something… slightly personal.”
Lando shrugs. “Okay.”
Oscar glances between them, suddenly curious. Zak walks over and sits at the table. “This isn’t about performance,” he says first.
Lando nods slowly. “Good start.”
Andrea takes a breath. “It’s about your public image.”
Lando frowns slightly. “My… what?”
Zak looks directly at him. “Your relationship.”
The room goes quiet. Lando blinks. “…my relationship?”
Oscar’s head tilts slightly. Oh. Oh no.
Zak nods. “Yes.”
Lando stares at him. “You mean my girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
Lando lets out a small laugh like this is obviously going somewhere stupid. “…okay?”
Andrea speaks gently. “You know we support you in your personal life.”
Lando nods. “Yeah.”
“But,” Zak continues carefully, “your girlfriend is… frequently in the media.”
Oscar presses his lips together. Lando’s expression goes flat. “…yeah.”
Andrea leans forward slightly. “The headlines are quite… loud.”
Lando scoffs. “You mean tabloids.”
Zak shakes his head. “Unfortunately, sponsors read those tabloids.”
The air in the room shifts. Lando straightens slightly in his chair. “And?”
Andrea chooses his words carefully. “We’re concerned about the perception of the McLaren brand being associated with those headlines.”
Oscar looks down at the table. Even he knows this is bad.
Lando stares at them both. “You’re joking.”
Zak shakes his head slowly. “We’re not.”
Silence.
Then Lando laughs again. But this time it isn’t amused. “You’re telling me you’ve dragged me into a meeting about my girlfriend.”
Andrea answers calmly. “Yes.”
Lando shakes his head in disbelief. “She’s not even here.”
Zak gestures vaguely. “That’s part of the point.”
Lando’s jaw tightens.
Oscar finally speaks. “…what are you actually saying?”
Zak glances at him. Then back to Lando. “We’ve been discussing potential PR solutions.”
Lando stares at him. “…PR solutions.”
Andrea nods slightly. “Yes.”
Lando leans forward. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Zak answers calmly. “It means entering you into a PR relationship.”
The room goes completely still. Lando blinks. Once. “…what the fuck?”
Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up. Even he wasn’t expecting that.
“I’ve got a girlfriend,” Lando says slowly.
“Yes,” Zak replies. “That’s kind of the point.”
Andrea speaks softly. “The headlines surrounding her are unpredictable.”
“She’s a model,” Lando snaps. “That’s literally her job.”
Zak nods. “Yes. And she’s very successful.”
“But,” Andrea adds carefully, “her reputation in the press is… controversial.”
Oscar quietly mutters under his breath, “…that’s a bit harsh.”
Lando turns to them again. “You can’t be serious.”
Zak keeps his voice calm. “We’ve found someone.”
Lando freezes. “…you’ve found someone.”
“Yes. A model.”
Lando stares at him like he’s just lost his mind. “You want me to fake date another girl.”
“For brand protection,” Zak says.
Lando pushes back in his chair. “No.”
Oscar nods slowly beside him. “Yeah that’s a bit- what the fuck.”
Andrea sighs slightly. “We expected resistance.”
“No shit.”
Zak’s tone becomes more firm. “This isn’t personal, Lando.”
“It sounds pretty fucking personal.”
Andrea interjects quickly. “We’re trying to protect you.”
“From my girlfriend?”
“From media perception.”
Lando runs a hand through his hair. “You can’t seriously be asking this.”
Zak’s expression hardens slightly. “We’re not asking.”
The words hang in the room. Oscar sits up straighter now. That tone's new.
Andrea speaks gently. “We need to consider the long-term stability of the team.”
Lando looks at him. “You’re threatening my seat over my girlfriend?”
Zak doesn’t answer directly. But he doesn’t deny it either.
Oscar exhales slowly. “…Jesus.”
The room is quiet for a long moment. Finally Lando leans back again. His voice calmer now. “I need to talk to her first.”
Zak nods. “That’s reasonable.”
Andrea adds softly, “We’re not doing this to punish you.”
Lando doesn’t look convinced.
“We’re doing this,” Zak continues, “to protect your public image.”
Lando stares at the table.
Then Zak adds something else. “One more thing.”
Lando already knows he won’t like it. “What?”
“We’d appreciate it if she didn’t attend the paddock for the rest of the season.”
Lando looks up immediately. “She’s been to three races, ever.”
Zak nods. “I know.”
“Three.”
“Yes, but every time she appears, it becomes a headline.”
Andrea speaks more gently. “We want to avoid unnecessary media attention.”
Lando laughs bitterly. “She literally stands quietly in the garage.”
“That’s not what the headlines say.”
Silence again.
Finally Lando pushes his chair back and stands. “Fine.”
Zak nods. “Speak to her.”
Andrea adds, “We trust you’ll understand our position.”
Lando doesn’t answer. He just walks toward the door.
Oscar stands up immediately and follows him. As the door closes behind them, Oscar mutters quietly “…that was insane.”
Lando runs a hand through his hair again. “Yeah.”
Oscar glances at him. “You’re not actually going to do that.”
Lando looks down the hallway. “…I need to talk to her first.”
Because if there’s one thing he knows for sure? You deserve to hear this from him. Not from a headline.
He waits until the evening. He doesn’t do it straight after the meeting. He doesn’t do it while he’s still angry and pacing around the McLaren factory with Oscar muttering about how insane the conversation was. He waits until he’s back at his hotel, until the noise in his head has died down and the adrenaline of the day has faded into something heavier.
Then he picks up his phone. You answer on the third ring.
“Hi,” Your voice is soft, distracted. He can hear music faintly in the background on your end, something low and slow playing through the Monaco apartment speakers. He imagines exactly where you are without needing to ask; barefoot on the living room floor, one of his hoodies probably thrown over a silk slip, the balcony doors open to the harbour air.
“Hey,” he says.
There’s a pause.
“You okay?” you ask.
Lando hesitates. “I… need to talk to you about something.”
The music on your end goes quieter, like you’ve walked away from it. “Okay,” you say.
He exhales slowly. “I had a meeting today. With Zak and Andrea.”
“And?” you ask.
“They wanted to talk about… you.”
That silence is different. He knows the moment it lands. The exact second you realise where this is going. “What about me?” you ask, your tone suddenly flat.
Lando rubs a hand over his face. “It’s about the headlines. The stuff that gets written about you. They’re worried about sponsors seeing it.”
You don’t interrupt him. So he keeps going. “They think it’s bad for the brand. For McLaren. For me. They want me to go into a PR relationship,” he says finally. “With another model.”
The words sound ridiculous even as they leave his mouth. For a moment, there’s only the faint hum of the phone line between you. Then you go completely silent. Not the quiet where someone is thinking. The quiet where someone has shut down.
Lando shifts in his chair. “Say something. Please.”
When you finally speak, your voice is calm in a way that makes his stomach drop. “Okay.”
He frowns. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Whatever.”
“Whatever?”
“Yeah, Lando. Get with another fucking girl. Go on.”
The sarcasm hits like a slap. “That’s not what I said,” he replies quickly.
“It sounds like it.”
“They’re pushing it, not me.”
You laugh quietly, but there’s no humour in it. “Right.”
“I told them I needed to speak to you first.”
“Oh, how considerate.”
Lando leans forward in his chair, frustration creeping in. “You’re acting like I agreed to it.”
“Did you say no?”
“Yes.”
“Did they care?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Your laugh this time is sharper. “Exactly.”
Lando sighs. “They’re worried about sponsors. About perception.”
“Of course they are,” you say. “Because God forbid the McLaren brand be associated with the terrifying concept of a model who occasionally goes to a nightclub.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“That’s exactly what this is about,” you reply. “It’s always what it’s about.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “They also asked if you could… not come to the paddock anymore this season.”
You go quiet again. But this time it’s colder. “They said that?” you ask.
“Yeah.”
“Even though I’ve only been to three races? In our whole relationship, three races.”
“Yeah.”
Another silence stretches across the line. Then you speak again, softer now. “I told you this would happen.”
Lando closes his eyes. “You didn’t.”
“I did. The paddock doesn’t like girls like me.”
“That’s not true.”
You ignore him. “It’s too polished. Too perfect. Too controlled,” you continue. “And I don’t fit into that.”
“You do,” Lando insists.
“No, Lando. I don’t. And that’s fine.”
Your voice is calm again. Too calm. “So go on,” you say lightly. “Do the PR relationship. Smile in photos with some nice quiet model who doesn’t leave nightclubs at 4am.”
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious.”
“You know I’m not doing that.”
You sigh softly. “You might have to.”
“I’m not.”
“They threatened your seat, didn’t they?”
The question lands with uncomfortable accuracy. Lando doesn’t answer.
You laugh again, but this time it sounds tired. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
He leans forward, gripping the phone tighter. “I’m not choosing my career over you.”
“You don’t have to choose,” you say quietly. “Your team already did it for you.”
There’s a long pause. Then you add, softer this time, “I told you from the start that your world and my world don’t mix.”
“You’re part of my world.”
“Not the paddock part.”
He doesn’t know what to say to that. On the other end of the phone, you’re looking out over the Monaco harbour lights, your reflection faint in the glass doors of the balcony. You sound calm. But the quiet in your voice hurts more than if you’d shouted. “Just… think about it,” you say eventually. “You’ve got a championship to chase. Sponsors. Contracts.”
“And you,” he says.
You don’t answer that. Instead you say softly, “Call me tomorrow, okay?”
Before he can respond, the line goes dead. And Lando sits there in the quiet of his flat, staring at the phone in his hand. Because somehow that conversation felt worse than the meeting.
The morning light in the McLaren factory is too sharp. Too quiet. Too controlled.
Lando walks through it like a man heading to a fight he already knows he’s going to hate. Oscar is beside him, still half asleep, coffee in one hand and confusion written all over his face.
“You’re actually doing this?” Oscar asks quietly as they walk down the corridor.
Lando doesn’t answer straight away. His jaw is tight, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “…I’m handling it,” he says eventually.
Oscar frowns. “That didn’t sound like handling it.”
They reach the office door. Lando knocks once, then pushes it open without waiting. Zak and Andrea are already inside. Zak looks up from his laptop. Andrea is standing by the window. Both of them look relieved the moment Lando walks in.
“Lando,” Zak says, smiling. “Good timing.”
Lando doesn’t sit. He stays standing in the middle of the room, shoulders tense.
Oscar leans against the wall near the door, trying very hard to look invisible while also very obviously staying for the drama.
Lando exhales once. “…fine.”
Zak’s eyebrows lift. “Fine?”
Lando nods once, stiff. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Zak immediately assumes what that means. “Great,” he says. “I’m glad you’ve thought about it properly.”
Andrea nods as well. “This will be much cleaner for everyone.”
Oscar’s head snaps toward Lando. Wait. What?
Lando continues before either of them can say more. “But we’re doing it my way.”
Zak’s smile fades slightly. Andrea watches him carefully.
Lando’s voice is flat now. “I’m not breaking up with her.”
Silence fills the room.
Zak blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m not breaking up with her,” Lando repeats. “We’re still together. She’s still living in my apartment.”
Oscar straightens slightly. Now he’s definitely staying for this.
Lando continues. “This other girl? She’s not moving in. She’s not coming near my flat. She’s not involved in my life outside the paddock.”
Zak slowly leans back in his chair. “That’s not how PR relationships work.”
Lando shrugs. “Then I’m not doing it.”
Andrea steps forward slightly, voice calm. “Lando-”
“No,” Lando cuts in. His voice isn’t loud, but it’s firm. “I’m not bringing another girl into my house. That’s where I draw the line. That’s disrespectful as fuck.”
Oscar nods slightly to himself.
Zak folds his arms. “You’re asking us to run a fake relationship that only exists at races.”
“Yes.”
“That won’t hold up.”
“Then I won’t do it.”
The room goes quiet again. Andrea and Zak exchange a look. They both know Lando isn’t bluffing. Andrea finally sighs. “What if we remove the PR relationship entirely?”
Lando blinks. “…what?”
Zak leans forward slightly. “What if we stop the narrative instead?”
Lando stares at him. “I’ve already had the worst fucking phone call of my life with her about this,” he mutters. “So this better be good.”
Oscar winces slightly. Zak continues. “We don’t need another girl.”
Andrea nods slowly. “We just need to separate your name from hers publicly.”
Lando frowns. “…how?”
Andrea gestures vaguely. “You stop posting each other.”
Zak adds, “No photos. No public appearances together. No paddock visits.”
Oscar’s eyebrows lift.
Zak continues. “The media will assume you broke up.”
Lando stares at him. “You want people to think we split.”
Andrea nods. “It protects the brand. It stops your name appearing next to hers in headlines. It removes the association without forcing you into something artificial.”
Lando rubs his face slowly. “What the fuck.”
Oscar mutters under his breath, “This is insane.”
Lando looks back at Zak. “That’s your solution?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to pretend we broke up.”
Zak shrugs slightly. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… stop showing the relationship publicly.”
Andrea adds carefully, “Your private life stays private.”
Lando leans against the table, thinking. This is better than the other option. But it still feels wrong. “People are going to believe we broke up,” he says finally.
Zak nods. “That’s the idea.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
Andrea answers this time. “It protects you.”
It protects the sponsors. It protects the brand. That part goes unsaid.
Lando exhales slowly. “…that’s better.”
Oscar looks surprised. “That’s better?”
Lando nods slightly. “Still fucked up.”
Zak spreads his hands slightly. “Unfortunately, it’s the reality of the sport.”
Lando pushes himself upright again. “So just to be clear,” he says, looking between them. “We stay together. Nothing changes privately.”
Silence settles again. Finally Lando nods once. “…fine.”
Oscar looks at him like he wants to say something but doesn’t. Because Lando looks exhausted now. The kind of exhausted that doesn’t come from racing.
As they walk out of the office, Oscar finally speaks. “…she’s going to hate this.”
Lando doesn’t answer. Because he already knows. And he still has to call you back.
The private jet is quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The heavy kind. The kind where one person is thinking too much and the other one knows it.
Oscar's sitting across from Lando, one leg folded under him in the leather seat, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. Outside the window the sky's dark, the lights of the English coast fading beneath the plane as they head south toward Monaco.
Lando hasn’t touched his phone in almost an hour. It’s sitting on the table between them. Face down.
Oscar finally glances up. “You still haven’t called her.”
Lando doesn’t answer straight away. He’s staring out the window, elbow resting against the armrest, fingers pressed against his temple. “I know,” he says eventually.
Oscar raises an eyebrow. “You said you were going to.”
“I said I would talk to her.”
“That usually involves speaking.”
Lando exhales slowly and leans back in the seat. “I’m doing it in person.”
Oscar watches him for a moment, then nods slightly. That part he understands. Which is exactly why they’re on this jet tonight instead of tomorrow morning like originally planned. “You think that’ll make it better?” Oscar asks.
Lando gives a small humourless laugh. “Not better.”
“Less bad?”
“Hopefully.”
Oscar sets his phone down now, sensing the conversation isn’t going anywhere light. “You didn’t tell her about the new plan yet.”
“No.”
“You only told her about the PR relationship.”
Lando rubs his face with both hands. “Yeah.”
Oscar winces. “…that phone call must’ve been fun.”
“She went quiet.”
Oscar grimaces. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Oscar has known you long enough to know that your quiet is worse than yelling. Lando stares at the ceiling of the jet. “She basically told me to go date another girl.”
Oscar snorts slightly. “Sounds like her.”
“Yeah.”
They sit in silence for a moment. Then Lando shakes his head. “At least there’s no PR relationship now.”
Oscar nods slowly. “That’s definitely better.”
“But it’s still shit.”
Oscar tilts his head. “Because you have to hide it.”
Lando nods. “She loves posting stuff.”
Oscar smiles faintly. That’s true. Your Instagram might be private, but the people you let in see everything. Late-night photos. Ridiculous selfies. The occasional soft candid of Lando half asleep on your sofa. You don’t hide the relationship. You enjoy it. And now…
Lando sighs. “She’s gonna hate this.”
Oscar leans back in his seat. “Probably.”
“She already thinks the paddock hates her.”
Oscar doesn’t interrupt. “She thinks the team hates her.”
Oscar still doesn’t interrupt.
“And now I have to tell her that the solution is basically pretending she doesn’t exist.”
Oscar exhales slowly. “Yeah.”
The jet hums quietly around them.
Lando leans forward, elbows on his knees now, staring down at the phone on the table. “I don’t know what the fuck to do about this.”
Oscar studies him for a moment. “You’re still choosing her though.”
Lando looks up. “What?”
Oscar shrugs slightly. “You told them no to the other girl.”
“Yeah.”
“You refused to bring someone else into your life.”
“Obviously.”
Oscar nods again. “That matters.”
Lando shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel like it matters.”
Oscar tilts his head. “Maybe not right now.”
Lando leans back again, running his hands through his hair. “She’s going to feel like I’m ashamed of her.”
Oscar is quiet for a moment before answering. “Are you?”
Lando looks at him like the question is ridiculous. “Of course not.”
“Then tell her that.”
Lando sighs again. “Yeah.”
Oscar picks his phone back up. “You’re going to have a very dramatic evening when we land.”
“No shit.”
Oscar smirks slightly. “I’m kind of glad I don’t live in your building.”
Lando finally lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, thanks for the support.”
Oscar shrugs. “I’ll text you tomorrow to see if you survived.”
The lights of Monaco start to appear in the distance outside the jet window. The coastline glowing softly against the black water.
Lando picks up his phone for the first time since they left England. He doesn’t call. He just looks at it. Because in about an hour he’s going to have to walk into your apartment and explain everything.
The taxi ride from Nice to Monaco is quiet. Not awkward, exactly. Just tired.
Oscar is half-slouched in the back seat, scrolling on his phone while the city lights blur past the windows. Lando is staring out at the dark Mediterranean, one hand resting against the door, his mind running through the same conversation over and over again.
They pull into Monaco a little after midnight. The car winds through the narrow streets until it stops outside Lando’s building. The driver kills the engine. Lando grabs his suitcase from the boot and slams it shut a little harder than necessary.
Oscar leans over slightly from the back seat. “Well,” he says.
Lando looks at him.
Oscar gives him a sympathetic smile. “Good luck.”
Lando exhales. “Yeah.”
Oscar shrugs. “Text me. Update me. Let me know how it goes.” He pauses, then adds casually, “If you need anything, ring.”
Lando nods once. “Thanks Osc.”
Oscar watches him step out of the car, dragging his suitcase onto the pavement. As Lando shuts the door, Oscar calls out through the open window, “Try not to die in there.”
Lando gives him a half-hearted middle finger. The taxi pulls away. And suddenly he’s standing alone outside the building.
He looks up toward the apartment. Then he heads inside.
The apartment is quiet when he opens the door. Too quiet. The soft glow of the living room lamp spills into the hallway.
Lando drops his keys on the counter and pulls the door shut behind him. He doesn’t even bother bringing the suitcase further inside. It stays by the entrance as he walks straight toward the living room.
You’re on the sofa. Curled slightly into the corner, one leg tucked under you, the television playing something quietly in the background that you clearly aren’t watching.
You don’t look up when he walks in. That’s how he knows you’re still angry.
He steps closer. “Hey.”
You still don’t look at him.
He runs a hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”
You finally glance up. Your expression is flat. “Go talk to your PR girlfriend.”
Lando closes his eyes for a second. Yeah. He deserved that. “That’s not happening,” he says quietly.
Your head tilts slightly. “…what?”
Lando walks around the coffee table slowly, stopping in front of the sofa. “I told them no.”
You sit up slightly now, confusion cutting through the anger. “No?”
“No PR relationship.”
You stare at him. “What happened?”
Lando sighs and drops down onto the edge of the coffee table opposite you. He explains everything. The meeting. The argument. The fact that he refused to bring another girl into his life. The compromise Zak and Andrea offered instead.
You listen without interrupting. Your expression shifts slowly from confusion… to disbelief… to something sharper. “So let me get this straight,” you say finally.
Lando braces himself.
“You’re still with me.”
“Yes.”
“But publicly we’re supposed to pretend we broke up.”
He nods. “Basically.”
You stare at him like he’s just explained the dumbest concept in the world. “And they think that’s reasonable?”
“They think it protects the brand.”
You laugh. But it’s not amused. “You can keep the relationship private,” you say slowly, “but why the fuck should you have to?”
Lando doesn’t answer immediately. Because he doesn’t have a good answer. “That’s what I asked,” he says eventually.
You shake your head. “So the solution is pretending I don’t exist.”
“That’s not what it is.”
“It literally is.” You lean back into the sofa, frustrated. “This is ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“You’re a grown man.”
“I know.”
“You have a girlfriend.”
“I know.”
“So why are you letting them decide this?”
Lando looks down at the floor. “Because it’s my career.”
The room goes quiet.
You study him. “They threatened your seat.”
It isn’t a question. Lando nods once. “Not directly.”
“But enough.”
“Yeah.”
You rub your temples slowly. “That’s insane.”
“I know.”
“You should be standing up for your girlfriend against your team.”
Lando looks up at you. “I did.”
“Not enough.”
“I refused the PR relationship.”
You stare at him. “And now we’re hiding.”
He exhales slowly. “If they push this… if they really push it… I could lose my seat.”
The words hang in the room. You know that. You’ve always known that. Formula 1 isn’t a normal job. Careers disappear overnight. You look down at your hands. Your voice is quieter now. “So what are we supposed to do?”
Lando leans back slightly against the table. “I don’t know.”
And that’s the worst part. Because for the first time since this whole thing started… Neither of you has an answer.
The distance starts quietly; at first, it’s small things: you stop sending Lando the random photos during the day. No selfies in between castings, no blurry mirror shots from hotel bathrooms, no stupid little “look at this dress” messages when you’re on set somewhere in Milan or Paris. Your texts get shorter. Your calls become less frequent.
You’re still there. You’re still in the apartment when you’re in Monaco. You still fall asleep next to him. But something has shifted. And Lando notices.
Oscar notices too. Mostly because Lando won’t stop complaining about it.
They’re sitting in the McLaren hospitality one morning when Lando drops his phone onto the table with a groan. “She hasn’t posted me in three weeks.”
Oscar looks up from his coffee. “You told her not to.”
“I didn’t tell her not to.”
“You literally told her the team wants you to disappear from each other’s social media.”
Lando glares at him. “That’s different.”
Oscar raises an eyebrow. “How.”
Lando doesn’t have an answer. And that’s the worst part, because he knows you’re angry. He knows you have every right to be. So he doesn’t push it.
The media picks up on it first.
A gossip account notices that you haven’t posted Lando in weeks. Another one notices Lando hasn’t appeared on your Instagram stories.
Then a tabloid posts a headline:
MODEL AND F1 DRIVER SPLIT?
After that, it snowballs. Because you’re not sitting at home quietly. You’re out. A lot.
Photos start appearing online. You leaving clubs in London. You walking out of restaurants in Milan. You dancing in Monaco nightclubs.
And you’re not alone. You’re with your friends. Friends who just happen to be famous. Models. Athletes. Footballers.
One photo shows you laughing with Erling Haaland outside a club. Another one shows you sitting next to Bukayo Saka at a private party. Then a video appears of you leaving a Monaco bar with Jude Bellingham, both of you laughing while paparazzi cameras flash.
The internet explodes.
“Lando Norris fumbled so hard.”
“Imagine losing her to Jude Bellingham.”
“Upgrade.”
“From F1 driver to Champions League star.”
Lando reads every single one. And he hates it. Not because he thinks you’re actually dating them. But because he knows why it’s happening. Because he let the world believe you broke up.
The tension at McLaren becomes unbearable. Every time Lando walks past Zak or Andrea, something tight twists in his chest. He doesn’t hide it very well.
Oscar notices that too. “You’re glaring again,” He mutters during a debrief one afternoon.
“I’m not glaring.”
“You absolutely are.”
Lando looks across the room at Andrea talking to an engineer. “I fucking hate this.”
Oscar exhales slowly. “I know.”
“You know she was photographed with Bellingham last night?”
Oscar nods. “Yeah.”
“Do you know how many tweets I saw comparing me to him?”
Oscar shrugs slightly. “Probably a lot.”
“Thousands.”
Oscar takes a sip of his coffee. “Football Twitter is brutal.”
Lando rubs his face. “I can’t even say anything.”
“That’s the deal.”
“I know.”
And that’s the worst part. Because he put himself in this position.
A few nights later, Lando shows up at Max’s apartment in Monaco. He doesn’t text first. He just shows up.
Max opens the door and immediately raises an eyebrow. “Why do you look like that?”
Lando pushes past him into the apartment.
Inside, Charles and Oscar are already there. They’re sitting around the kitchen island with beers, halfway through some stupid conversation about sim racing.
All of them look up when Lando walks in. Charles frowns slightly. “Mate?”
Lando runs both hands through his hair and paces once across the room. “I’m losing my fucking mind.”
Oscar sighs quietly. “Here we go.”
Max closes the door behind him. “What happened?”
Lando grabs the beer sitting on the counter and takes a long drink.
Then he throws his phone onto the kitchen island. “Look at that.”
Charles picks it up. It’s Twitter. A photo of you leaving a nightclub in London. Jude Bellingham beside you. The caption reads: “Y/N moving on from Lando Norris with Jude Bellingham.”
Charles whistles softly. Max leans over his shoulder. Oscar just shakes his head. “Jesus.”
Lando starts pacing again. “They’re comparing me to fucking footballers.”
Max glances at him. “You knew this was going to happen.”
“I know.”
“So why are you surprised?”
“Because it still pisses me off.” Lando grabs his phone again and scrolls aggressively. “Look at this shit.”
He reads one tweet out loud. “‘Upgrade from an F1 driver to a Champions League star.’”
Max snorts.
Charles tries very hard not to laugh.
Oscar nudges him. “Don’t.”
Charles covers his mouth. “Sorry.”
Lando throws himself into a chair. “I hate this.”
Max leans against the counter. “You’re not mad at her.”
“No.”
“You’re mad at the situation.”
“Yes.”
Max nods. “That’s fair.”
Lando runs his hands over his face again. “She’s not even doing anything wrong.”
Oscar finally speaks. “She’s living her life.”
“I know.”
“And you told the world you broke up.”
“I know.”
“And now the world thinks she’s dating half of European football.”
“I KNOW.”
The room goes quiet. Charles sets the phone down on the counter. “So what are you going to do.”
Lando stares at the floor. “That’s the problem.” He looks up at them, frustrated and exhausted all at once. “I don’t know what the fuck to do.”
Max is the first one to speak. “You do know what to do.”
Lando looks up. Max shrugs slightly. “You just don’t like the options.”
Charles nods quietly beside him. “That’s the problem.”
Oscar leans back against the counter, arms folded. “You’ve got two choices.”
Lando sighs. “Yeah, and they're fucking fantastic.”
“No, seriously,” Oscar continues. “Either you go back to McLaren and tell them this whole thing is fucked and you’re not doing it.”
Max nods. “Or you speak to her.”
Lando scoffs slightly. “I’ve spoken to her.”
Charles shakes his head. “No. You told her the situation. That’s not the same thing.”
Lando rubs his face again. “She already thinks the paddock hates her.”
Max tilts his head. “She’s not entirely wrong.”
Charles shoots him a look. “Max.”
“What? I’m not going to lie.”
Oscar jumps in before the conversation derails. “That’s not the point.”
Lando leans back in the chair again, staring at the ceiling. “You don’t understand.”
Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Try us.”
Lando gestures vaguely toward the phone on the counter. “The entire internet thinks my girlfriend is dating a fucking footballer.”
Max shrugs. “She’s been friends with those guys for years.”
“I know.”
“And she’s always gone out with them.”
“I know.”
Oscar nods. “That’s the point.”
Lando looks at him.
“You’ve seen those photos before,” Oscar continues. “You’ve literally been in them.”
Charles laughs quietly. “I remember one in Monaco last year.”
Lando groans. “Yeah.”
“You, her, Bellingham, Saka and Haaland.” Max smirks slightly. “You looked like the smallest one in the group.”
“Thanks.”
Oscar continues calmly. “This isn’t new behaviour.”
Lando knows that. You’ve always had a chaotic social life. Your friends are famous, loud, ridiculous people. Models, athletes, actors. You’ve always been photographed with them. But before…
Lando was there too. Now he’s not. And that’s the difference.
Max gestures toward him. “You’re angry at the wrong person.”
Lando frowns. “What?”
“You’re angry at McLaren,” Max says simply.
“And at the situation.”
“But you’re directing it at her.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Lando shakes his head. “I’m not mad at her.”
Max raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you here ranting about photos she’s in?”
Lando opens his mouth. Then closes it again.
Charles steps in more gently. “She hasn’t done anything different. She’s living exactly the same life she always has.”
Oscar nods. “Just this time you’re not in the photos.”
The words land harder than Lando expects. Because it’s true. Every photo he’s seen the past few weeks…
He’s the one missing.
Charles continues quietly. “She’s not punishing you. She’s just… continuing.”
Lando leans forward again, rubbing his hands together. “I know that.”
Max watches him carefully. “So what’s the real problem.”
Lando laughs bitterly. “The real problem?”
“Yes.”
Lando gestures vaguely toward the skyline outside the apartment. “The real problem is that my team basically told me my girlfriend is bad for the brand.” None of them interrupt. “And now the solution is pretending she doesn’t exist.” His voice tightens slightly. “And now the entire world thinks she’s moved on to someone better.”
Charles winces slightly.
Max nods. “Yeah. That part sucks.”
Oscar walks over and sits on the counter beside him. “But again,” He says carefully, “that’s not her fault.”
Lando knows that. Which somehow makes it worse.
Max pushes himself off the counter. “You need to decide what matters more.”
Lando looks up at him.
“Your team,” Max says simply. “Or your relationship.”
Charles quickly adds, “That doesn’t necessarily mean choosing one over the other. But you can’t keep sitting in the middle like this.”
Oscar nods. “You’re miserable.”
Lando laughs weakly. “No shit.”
Max folds his arms. “So either go back to McLaren and tell them this whole thing is bullshit. Or go home and actually talk to her properly.”
Charles nods. “Because right now you’re just letting the situation get worse.”
Lando looks between them. Max. Charles. Oscar. All three of them watching him with the same expression.
Concern. Frustration. A little bit of pity.
Lando exhales slowly. “I can’t fight the team right now.”
Max nods. “Then talk to her.”
Lando runs both hands through his hair. “I don’t even know what I’d say.”
Oscar shrugs. “Start with ‘I’m sorry.’”
Charles smiles faintly. “That’s usually a good start.”
Lando stares at the floor again. Then suddenly he laughs. But it’s not a happy sound. “This is such a fucking mess.”
No one disagrees.
Lando leans back in the chair again, staring up at the ceiling. For the first time all night, his voice drops slightly. “…I miss her.”
The room goes quiet. Max glances at Charles. Charles looks at Oscar. Oscar looks back at Lando. “Then fix it,” Oscar says softly.
Lando doesn’t answer. He just sits there, completely exhausted. Because for the first time since this started, the anger cracks. And underneath it is something much worse.
It’s late when Lando finally leaves Max’s apartment. Monaco's quiet in that strange way it only gets in the middle of the night; the harbour lights glowing softly, the streets mostly empty except for the occasional car passing through.
He walks the few blocks back to the apartment instead of calling a car. He needs the air. Needs the time to think. Because Max, Charles and Oscar were right about one thing. Avoiding you isn’t fixing anything.
The apartment lights are still on when he unlocks the door. You’re awake. He can hear the TV faintly in the living room. He steps inside quietly, dropping his keys onto the counter and kicking off his shoes. For a moment he just stands there in the hallway, gathering himself.
Then he walks into the living room. You’re on the sofa again. Not curled up this time, just sitting upright with your legs stretched across the cushions, your phone resting beside you.
You look up when he walks in. Neither of you speak for a moment. Then you sigh softly. “So,” you say. “Did you finish ranting to the grid?”
Lando rubs the back of his neck. “…Max’s apartment.”
“Close enough.”
He walks over slowly and sits down on the edge of the coffee table facing you. For a second he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. You look tired. Not angry in the explosive way he half expected, just worn down by the whole thing.
Finally he speaks. “I’m sorry.”
You study him carefully. “For what part?”
“For… all of it.”
You lean back slightly against the sofa. “I’m literally not doing anything I haven’t done the entire time we’ve been together.” Your voice isn’t sharp. Just matter-of-fact.
“I know.”
“I’ve always gone out with my friends.”
“I know.”
“You’ve been in half those photos with them before.”
“I know.”
You gesture vaguely toward the phone on the sofa. “The only difference is you’re not in them now.”
Lando nods slowly. “Yeah.”
You watch him for a second. “I’m not acting different.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m just not posting you.”
“Because I asked you not to.”
You shrug slightly. “Because your team asked you not to.”
Lando exhales slowly. “That too.”
You pick at the sleeve of the oversized jumper you’re wearing. “I’m respecting what you asked me to do.”
He nods again. “You are.”
“But everyone else thinks we broke up.”
“That’s the plan.”
You laugh quietly. “Yeah. I figured.”
The room goes quiet again. Lando leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I hate this.”
You don’t argue with that. Because you hate it too.
“I know you’re angry,” he says.
You tilt your head slightly. “I’m not angry.”
He looks up. “You’re not?”
You shrug. “I’m frustrated.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“I’m frustrated that the paddock thinks I’m some kind of walking scandal.”
“That’s not-”
“It is,” you interrupt gently. “You’ve heard the way they talk about me.”
Lando doesn’t answer. Because he has.
You continue quietly. “But the rest of it? The photos? The headlines?” You gesture vaguely again. “That’s just my life.”
He knows that. Max was right about that part. You’ve always been like this. Your world has always been loud and chaotic and full of famous friends and late nights.
Lando was the one who entered that world. Not the other way around. “I know you’re not doing anything wrong,” he says finally.
You look at him carefully. “Then why are you upset?”
Lando leans back in the chair, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’m angry.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“At them?”
“Yes.”
You nod slowly.
Lando laughs quietly, but there’s no humour in it. “The worst part is I know I’m wrong.”
You frown slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I have no right to be pissed off about the photos,” he admits. “You’re doing the exact same thing you’ve always done.”
You don’t argue with that either.
“But I’m still pissed off,” he continues.
“Why?”
He looks at you again. “Because the internet thinks you’ve moved on.”
You blink. “Lando…”
“I know it’s stupid.”
You shake your head slightly. “It’s not stupid.”
“It is.”
“It’s not,” you repeat softly.
You both know why it bothers him. It’s not jealousy. It’s the feeling of being pushed out of something that used to include him.
Lando exhales slowly. “I’m angry at the situation,” he says. “And at the team.”
“And at yourself.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t shut it down immediately.”
The words come out heavier than he expected. You study him for a moment. “You thought you could fix it.”
“Yeah.”
“And it got worse.”
“Yeah.”
You lean forward slightly now, resting your elbows on your knees the same way he is. “That’s not entirely your fault.”
“It feels like it.”
“Because you’re the one in the middle of it.”
Lando nods slowly. “I hate that they made you feel like a problem.”
You shrug slightly. “I’ve been called worse.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
You give him a small smile. “I know.”
The apartment goes quiet again. But this silence feels different from the last few weeks. Less distance. More understanding.
After a moment you speak again. “So what happens now?”
MEXICO CITY, MEXICO - OCTOBER 26
Lando Norris of Great Britain and McLaren looks on smiling during the McLaren team photo during the F1 Grand Prix of Mexico at Autodromo Hermanos Rodriguez on October 26, 2025 in Mexico City, Mexico
(📷Kym Illman)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Warnings - kissing, fingering, p in v sex, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk.
The high of yours and Charles’ engagement was now leaning more into the low of his dnf in Brasil.
You weren’t there with him this weekend, so as soon as he’s walked through the apartment door, defeated as ever, you wasted no time in briskly walking over and enveloping him in a tight hug. No words needed to be spoken yet. He didn’t need your pity. He just needed your comfort.
He let his head fall in your neck, taking in a deep breath at the familiar scent of your shampoo and perfume, while your hands wrapped around his body securely, hands finding home in his hair.
You don’t know how long you stood like that, could have been five minutes, could have been thirty.
It wasn’t until Charles pulled back that you really took in his appearance.
His hair was a right mess, pointing in all directions. His eyes, which were glowing the last time you saw him, were now dull, tired, swollen, with bags underneath them. This was a man exhausted. Physically and mentally.
You let your thumb rub gentle circles on his cheeks before leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. Just a peck. He squeezed your waist assuringly.
You tried to lighten up the mood a little, knowing your words would bring a smile to his face.
Your voice was soft as you spoke. ‘Hi, fiancé’.
It was then that Charles’ face broke out in a typical Charles Leclerc smile. Dimples causing butterflies to ripple through you.
‘Cherie, baby, fiancé’ he whispered pulling you into another hug. ‘God I missed you’ he said softly.
‘Missed you too Char, so happy you’re finally home.’
He pulled back again, cupping your face and leaning forward to lock lips. It wasn’t rushed. He took his time. Mouth exploring yours while his tongue slid in. Slow and passionate. Breathless. Pouring every inch of his love into you as that was the only thing grounding him at this minute.
When you both needed air, you leaned forward on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
‘Want to order some food then take a long bath? Take it easy tonight?’ You asked, knowing a lazy evening was what Charles needed.
‘Oui sounds good. Let me take a shower while we wait for food’ he said, pecking your temple before retreating to your shared bedroom.
By time Charles was out again, you had the food ready and a random movie playing in the background, light dim. Cozy.
He wore a pair of joggers and no shirt, hair wet and scruffy as he sat next to you on the couch.
You ate in a comfortable silence, small remarks about the movie made here and there, and once you had both eaten your weight in sushi, you relaxed into Charles side, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you close.
‘You wanna talk about it?’ You asked gently, not wanting to push him but knowing he needed it out of his system.
He scoffed. ‘What’s to say? Fucking bullshit weekend after weekend.’
‘Charl-‘ you interrupted but he cut you off.
‘If it’s not the useless price of shit I’m driving it’s someone else trying to be a hero on the track and it’s always fucking me who pays the price’
You sat up now. Eyes on his. His face was red now. The anger bubbling through as his knuckles were clenched and his breathing was deep.
You rubbed his arms up and down, drawing random circles on his hand.
‘I know’ you said nodding. There was no denying he was right.
‘But baby you know those are two things out of your control, yeah? It’s not driver errors. You know that. But I’m sorry it’s always you caught in the middle.’
‘I know but for how much fucking longer. I feel like I’m closing my mind’ he said, voice softer now.
‘Few more races. Then reset. A whole new year. New car. New opportunities baby.’ You said, voice steady and calm. You could see with each word you said that he was coming back down to earth. Believing in what you were telling him. And you’d gladly accept that at this point.
He stayed silent for a bit before finally speaking again.
‘No more race talk. I just want to be with you right now’ he said, pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him.
‘Gladly’ you whispered, resting your forehead against him, shallow breaths from the both of you.
‘Thank you’ he said then.
You pulled back. ‘What for?’
‘You always know what to say. Just you being you makes everything better’ he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
Quickly, with a quirky smile you on your face, you flashed your left hand in front of his face. The half a million euro ring he slid on now even two weeks ago glistening in the low lighting.
‘I said yes for a reason Char. You and me forever. Not matter how hard it gets’ you said in French, thick accent coming through.
Charles smiled at that, his dimples shining bright as you took him in.
You loved this man endlessly, and what you told him was the truth. You and him. Easy or not. But together.
He pulled you in for a kiss then. Messier than the last one. He was hungry now. All teeth and tongues clashing, the both of you fighting for dominance. Your hand roamed each others bodies feverishly as you ground yourself down on Charles’ crotch? Which was going harder by the second.
‘Fuck, Charles’ you cooed, when his lips left yours and treaded onto your neck, suckling and biting down on your sweets spots that he knew so well.
Your hands slid up and down his naked torso, defined muscles making your clench your thighs together which turn had him groaning loudly in your ear.
Charles then practically ripped your pj-set off of you, revealing your lack of underwear. Perky breasts, nipples hard, and juicy cunt, dripping in anxiousness for him.
‘Fucking hell. Look at you so wet for me. Gonna ruin you tonight’ he said, licking his lips at the sight of you.
‘Baby please’ you begged, moaning when you ground yourself down on him again, eyes shut and lips parted, cupping his head when he leaned down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples.
He bit down hard, sending you into an array of grunts, hands pulling tightly at his hair. With how harsh he was being, teeth and tongue, you weee sure he was gonna make you bleed.
‘Char please. Need you in me.’ You moaned again, feeling a huge wet patch forming on his tented joggers because of how wet you were.
You felt Charles smile against you, and before you could even fathom what was happening, he’d manhandled you to flip over on the couch, flat onto your tummy as he leaned on his knees above you.
His breath was hot against your back as he left wet kisses up and down while his finger finally, finally, found your cunt, sliding two in through your hole with no warning, letting some of his weight onto your body.
You moaned again, the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you out almost painfully so as he set a quick rhythm.
‘Cherie, fuck. Look at you’ he panted, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail, speeding up his fingers even more now. You could feel a right mess waiting to open on the couch, especially when you felt him hit that spongy spot inside you.
‘Char gonna cum’ you squealed, and it wasn’t until he rubbed your clit with his tongue that you came crashing down, orgasm ripping through you as your body shook underneath him.
‘Got more in you? Hmm?’ He asked? Flipping your body over again so you were now on your back.
You looked up at him and watched on as he put his glistening fingers in his mouth, suckling them clean of your juices before leaving down and letting you taste yourself in a sloppy kiss.
You whimpered at that, getting annoyingly impatient now. ‘Chat please just fuck me now’ you whined, already working on sipping your hand past the waistband of his joggers, taking his thick girth into hold.
Charles’ whole body shuddered at that action. ‘Nights gonna end early if you keep doing that’ he murmured, climbing off you now to rid the rest of his clothes.
Your breath hitched as you saw his cock slap back against his stomach as soon as it was free. It was throbbing. Red and angry with a bead of pre cum building at the top.
Stretching your hand, you swiped the pre cum off, making Charles shudder again as he resumed his position above you, bringing you fingers to your lips and moaning at the taste of him.
Meanwhile Charles as already sliding himself through your slick folds, gathering some as lube before positioning himself at your entrance.
‘Ready Cherie?’ He asked, voice low and raspy.
‘Please baby’ you cooed, brining his head down for a kiss as he slid inside you with a single, hard thrust which had the both of you grunting, taking a deep breath.
He stayed still for a bit, letting you adjust to his size. You took a hold of his hair again, pulling at it to let him know he can move.
And but did he move.
Ramming hard, deep thrusts. In and out of you, making your whole body shift with each movement.
‘Char. Oh my god’ you squealed, momentarily looking down to see where your bodies came together, clenching around him tightly because as good as it felt, it was also fucking sore. Did you what him to stop though? No. Not one bit.
Charles continued a rhythm of pounding into you, whispering filthy words into your ear, thick accent coming through as his voice was hoarse, with a moan thrown in here and there.
‘Look at you, taking me so fucking well’
‘Made you my fiancé so I could fuck you whenever I want’
‘Stretching yourself so well for me’
‘Gonna cum all over my dick, yeah?’
‘Gonna let me cum in you?’
‘Shit, Charles too much’ you whimpered as he repeatedly hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars.
He laughed then - actually something between a laugh and a groan. ‘She wants me to stop, she says’ he said, only to move slower, but so much harder, sliding out completely before slamming back into you, making you let out lewd, pornographic moans, nails digging to his biceps.
‘Fuck. Fuck me’ you wailed just as Charles started to toy on your clit, pinching and rubbing against it roughly.
‘I am fucking you amore’ he said, now breathless, movements sloppier with each thrust.
It was what he said next, or rather what he asked you hough that had your orgasm tearing through your body.
‘Can I fuck a baby into you? Baby?’
You gushed around Charles. Cum flooding out of you as your body shook dramatically, uncontrollably, breath caught and words stuck in your throat, just soundless pants leaving your body.
You could heat Charles in the background. Cussing, groaning. Something about how hot you were.
And then suddenly he was cumming inside you. Hot and heavy ropes of warmth filling you up, his cock twitching against your tight walls as he spasmed above you before letting his weight fall on you.
His breath was hot against your sweat-clad skin, goosebumps already rising.
‘Fucking hell y/n’ he said, shifting slightly. ‘Do you even realize what you’ve just done?’ He asked in shock.
You panicked then, not knowing what the hell he was talking about until you looked down to see the couch as well as both your lower halves completely soaked. Sticky and gooey juice sprawled all over, a mess.
Your breath hitched then, heavy breathing returning. ‘I-fuck Charles!’ You squealed out of embarrassment, trying to cover your face. Your never squirted before. Not even when Charles fucked you the night you said yes.
‘Cherie!’ He said, voice hoarse and somewhat angry.
‘Don’t ever fucking apologize for ruining me like this. I’d take it every fucking say if I could. You don’t know how hot you just sounded and how hot you look right now. Swear I’m about to cum again.’
You kept quiet, exhaustion taking over as you gave him a shy smile. He slid out of you then, the both of you groaning at the loss of contact, as you watched him pump his now soft cock in his hands, sticky and messy but a wicked smile on his face.
‘You wanna help a guy out?’ He whispered, and needless to say, you suddenly had a whole lot of energy.
Warnings - angst, oral f! receiving, fingering, dirty talk if you squint.
A/N - guyssss IM BACK. I’m so sorry for being MIA. I don’t even have a reason for it. Just couldn’t be happy with anything I wrote. This is a short one but I promise to be back with bang from the next one. Enjoy and lmk what you think.
You hadn’t heard from Lando in 4 weeks. 28 days. 672 hours. 40320 minutes. Not that you were counting. No.
You were cooped up at Carmen’s flat. A spare room she said was yours for as long as you needed. A whole month of staying indoors, only leaving the room to go to the kitchen or bathroom.
Your world had stopped the day Lando removed himself from your life. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t concentrate on anything. But at the same time, the silence was the hardest. Your mind filled with memories. Good and bad. Like a reply of your whole relationship.
After what Lando did to you, you still half expected him to come and find you, apologize for the vile words he through at you, beg for your forgiveness, the night you left the flat. But nothing. Not a text, nor a call. Around day 15, you caved, pressing the call button, not even knowing what you’d say had he answered, but you quickly learned he’d blocked your number. The hurt came rushing back, the tear uncontrollable as your sobbed into Carmen’s arms. Not knowing how you ended up being in this situation.
It was a cycle. Cry, eat, sleep, cry, eat, sleep. That was your routine for the past month. Of course, better to your judgement, you’d been keeping an eye on social media. Lando seemed to have moved on with life without easily. Carrying on as normal. Smiling for the cameras, doing well in races, being the guy everyone loved and adored.
Then there were the photos. Leaving clubs, trails of girls behind him. Gossip pages analyzing each and every thing, obviously having noticed your absence.
You’d woken up today tired of dragging yourself down. If he could move on, so could you, even if your heart was shattered. George had left for Brasil last night, and it being Tuesday today, you knew Lando would have left Sunday, always wanting to reach the destination by Monday to settle in.
Closure was what you needed, and for whatever reason, your brain was telling you that you’d get said closure by going to what was yours and Lando’s shared apartment, gathering your things, and saying good bye to it once and for all. Find a place to rent. And get back to your life, without him that is.
If someone asked how you’d got the willpower to get up today, get ready like a normal human being after a while month of lounge clothes and messy buns, you wouldn’t have an answer for them. You showered, actually brushed your hair into a neat ponytail, put on some baggy jeans and a random tshirt, and rolled out of your room with intent. Needless to say, Carmen was shocked but very welcoming of the prospect. She knew the hardest part was making the decision to go back for your things, and she was proud of you for willing to take that step. She offered to come with, you you declined, knowing you needed to take your time and let it sink in that that was not your place anymore.
The drive back to the apartment felt foreign. You didn’t allow the fears to fall no matter how much they tried to crack you. Putting the car in park, you sat in silence for a few minutes. Mind blank. Sniffling. Before you took a deep breath and forced your body to move. Out the car and up the steps. Into the elevator. A world you didn’t belong in anymore.
Now standing in front of the front door. You perched your sunglasses onto your head, and let your fingers race the door number. Flashes of the countless times Lando and you had fumbled while opening the door because you were far more interested in ripping each other’s clothes off, smothering each other in wet kisses and giggles. You smiled faintly, before snapping yourself out of it.
Eventually, you slot the key in and twisted it, the door opening quickly. You were definitely unprepared for the familiar and heart achingly beautiful smell that hit you as you took a few steps in. A smell and place that once brought your comfort now made you want to throw up.
Your eyes scanned the place. It look exactly the same. Clean, but lived in. A few things out of place that you would have cleaned up after Lando. It was a weird feeling to feel foreign in a place that once bought you so much joy and comfort.
Taking a few more steps in and gently shutting the door behind you, your breath hitched when you noticed Lando’s silver Tumi bag at the edge of the staircase, a pair of shoes next to it. Goosebumps rose on your skin, the idea of him still being here not one you were prepared for. But now you were here. And you’d be damned if you were to leave without packing your stuff and leaving once and for all. Well, that’s what you told yourself.
So you forced your body to move, muffled sounds of people talking? getting louder. Soft breaths and pants. Your brain should have caught on to what you were walking into, but when you rounded the corner to the kitchen, nothing, nothing at all could have prepared you for what you’d seen in front of you.
You gasped, and the people noticed your presence at the exact same time.
A woman. Blonde. Naked. Splayed against the back wall, legs spread, lips parted, hands pulling on a head full of curls.
A head of curls.
Lando.
Crouching down, topless. In a pair of jeans. Bulged arms keeping the woman’s legs spread. Tongue on her cunt, fingers holding her open, with spit runningg down his chin.
Your body was shaking, though frozen on the spot. Cheeks flushed as Lando stood up to stand in front of the woman, whom you now recognized, quicker than lightening, the back of his hand wiping his chin of the mess.
‘Y/N’ he said your name softly as he took you in. Worn out, tired, broken. And still breaking. If that was possible.
Of course, the tears made a return. You couldn’t stop them even if you tried. Your mind was dazed. A hundred different things fighting to be at the front.
Was it the fact that you were looking at Lando in real time after a whole month of being a part? Was it the fact that he’d moved on from you? Was so quick to replace you? Or was it the fact that you were standing in what was once your shared house with him with he tongue fucked someone else. Or to top it all off, was it the fact the woman was Magui Corciero? You didn’t know.
Lando took a cautious step forward, but at the same time your body retraced a step back. Your emotions were all over the place. Heartbreak, sadness, anger, disgust.
You stepped back a few more, involuntarily taking Lando in. Gosh no matter how much he’d hurt you, you were still so in love with him that it physically hurt. He was your everything. He looked so good. Tired. Messy stubble. But still handsome as ever. But before you allowed yourself to make a fool of yourself, you found your voice to break the silence.
‘Came to get my stuff’ you said, barely above a whisper, fresh tears running down your cheeks. You pointed back at the door. ‘I’ll send for someone to come back’ you continued, turning on your heel and walking quickly. You needed to get out of here.
You shut the door behind you and stood against it, chest heaving, in shock of how the last 5 minutes played out.
Eventually you made your way to the elevator, tears blurring your vision as your body stumbled in, when you heard your name being called. Of course, it was Lando.
You looked back, his body clad in clothes again. He got in just in time for the door to close as his eyes bore into yours.
‘How long’ you asked, not wasting any time.
Lando was taken aback from your question.
‘Y/N-‘ he started.
‘Answer the fucking question Lando’ you threw back at him.
‘Doesn’t matter how long. I told you, we’ve been nothing for a while now. Don’t know where we went wrong. But I needed change’ he said, voice raising with each word.
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
‘Fuck you’ you whispered.
‘Did you get with her while we were still together?’ You asked.
He laughed then. ‘Of course, thats what you’d fucking take from my answer.’
‘Why her?’ You finally asked, not knowing how Lando would stoop so low.
‘Dunno. Guess I thought she was the change I needed’ he said softly.
‘And is she?’
You stayed silent when he didn’t respond, staring at the ground in the hopes it would open up and swallow you whole. Despite what Lando told you when he’d broken up with you, a part of you thought he would’ve stopped being so nasty with his words when you saw each other again. It felt as if he suddenly had this hatred towards you.
After what felt like an eternity, the elevator finally reached the ground floor. You didn’t look up at Lando. You didn’t see the pained look on his face. The guilt finally showing through after everything.
As you walked out, your back to him. He said the words, stopping you in your tracks.
‘I was never unfaithful to you. I’d never have done that to you’ he said softly, voice cracking slightly.
You tuned back to look at him, wishing you didn’t. What stood in front of you was a man you’d never seen look more broken before. But he did what he did. Said what he said. And you weren’t about to allow yourself to give him the time of day.
Civil, you nod your head, fresh tears appearing as you turned back and walked to your car without saying a word.
You heard him call your name again, a few times actually. But you didn’t stop, getting in the car and driving back to Carmen’s on autopilot.
She was waiting outside for you, open arms ready as she hugged you tightly.
‘The bastard had the audacity to call me’ she said, voice laced with venom.
You pulled back to look at her. ‘What?’
‘Yeah. Told me what happened.’
‘Fuck’ you breathed out, moving to sit in the bench in the little garden, placing your head in your hands.
Carmen spoke in Spanish then. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m gonna fucking kill him when I see him.’
You couldn’t help but laugh. You were sick of the crying. How much longer were you going to let Lando drag you down?
Later that night, after a few bottles of wine which you gladly downed, you were lying in bed. Trying to sleep. But to no avail.
Your phone buzzed, you knew you shouldn’t have picked it up, your body somehow knowing what or who it was. But you did anyway. Of course, a message from Lando.
‘I’m sorry you had to see that today.’
You scoffed. Images of them flooding your mind.
You wondered then. Did he kiss her like he kissed you? Deep and passionate. Teeth and tongues clashing. Did he eat her out like a man starved? It certainly looked like it today, the hurt returning the more you thought about it. And did he fuck her like he was ready to fuck a baby into her? Raw and determined. Chasing after bliss. Sex was a huge part of yours and Lando’s relationship. Would he carry it on over to his next?
Without realizing because of your tipsy state, your hand had slipped past your panties to find your soaked cunt.
You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to enter an alternate world. A place where Lando still craved you. Your body. Your touch.
Imaging it was Lando’s thick, calloused fingers, your slid them through your slick folds, gathering up your juices repeatedly as your mouth fell open, breathless pants filling up the room.
Your fingers either nothing compared to Lando’s, but just thinking of them had you so horny, especially after so long of nothing.
You thought about what he’d say to you as he sank his index finger through you. ‘So good for me baby, you love my fingers, don’t you?’ He’d say, voice raspy before adding a second of third finger to the mix. ‘Opening you up so you can take all of my veiny dick, yeah?’ ‘No chance of fit without it’ he’d pant into your ear, leaving open mouthed, wet kisses all along your collar bone before moving lower down to take a spongy nipple into his mouth, biting down gently before soothing it with his tongue. His tongue, god. It was heavenly.
Silently moaning his name, you thrust yourself relentlessly, chasing that high that came with him.
Then you imagined his cock. Thick, hard, leaking, ready to ruin you.
‘Lan, please’ you whispered, body starting to tremble as your movements became sloppier, at the brink of falling off before your phone buzzed again, bringing you back to reality.
You slowed your movements, a single tear making its way down your cheek as you regained composure. You looked at your phone again.
The late summer sun bleeds through the windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. The house is too quiet. You’ve spent the whole day drifting from room to room, fingertips grazing along surfaces, pretending you weren’t just waiting for Lando to reappear.
Summer break is nearly over, and with the second half of the season looming, he's back to training—even if he hates every second of it. The workouts, the early mornings, the constant push to stay sharp—it’s not his favorite part. But he does it. Because he has to.
But now, standing in the doorway of the home gym, the silence pays off.
He doesn’t see you at first. He's seated on the workout bench, hunched slightly forward, three fingers gripped tightly in his other hand like he's stretching them out—or maybe nursing them. His brows are furrowed, mouth slack with focus. Sweat drips from his hairline down his neck, slicking his collarbones and tracing a line over the flex of his chest.
His thighs straddle the bench, solid and wide, every inch of him brimming with tension from disuse and the stubbornness to push through. You’ve seen him like this before—when he’s about to make a move, whether on track or in bed. This version of him, concentrated and messy, is your favorite.
You forget the words you meant to say. Something about a snack? Or that it’s too hot to be doing this? You can’t even clear your throat, let alone form a sentence. Your legs stay rooted to the floor. The air is thick. His skin glistens.
But it's not his skin that keeps you staring.
It’s his fingers.
The way they curl and flex as he stretches them, knuckles taut, tendons shifting beneath skin. He winces a little as he grips the middle three tighter, jaw ticking. You can’t tell if it’s pain or just pressure but it doesn’t matter. All you can think about is how those fingers would feel against your skin. Inside you. Around your throat. Holding you open.
Your mouth nearly waters.
You cross your legs, needing something—anything—to press against. It barely helps. You can feel your pulse between your thighs.
That’s when he notices you.
“I’m almost done, babe,” he says without much thought, voice low and casual. He glances down at his fingers, still working them slowly. The motion shouldn't feel intimate, but it does.
“Oh,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he’s suddenly aware of what exactly you're staring at. His thumb strokes along the length of his middle finger, absentminded but devastating.
Your brain stutters back to life, though your voice is breathy when it comes out.
“Ma-maybe I’ll join you.”
His eyes flick up, wide, and for a second it’s like he stops breathing altogether. You take a step forward. Then another. You don’t break his gaze, even as it darkens with something heavier.
He drops his hand to his thigh, still spread wide around the bench, and watches you approach.
“Yeah?” he says, voice rougher now. “You wanna help me stretch?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” you say, voice light, almost innocent. “I think I would take a stretch.”
You hold his gaze, letting it drop ever so slowly—down his chest, to the gleam of sweat on his abdomen, and finally to where his fingers still rest against his thigh. His lips twitch at the corner, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just watches.
You step over the bench and straddle it, knees brushing against his. The closeness makes your breath hitch, the warmth of his skin radiating straight into yours.
“Comfortable?” he murmurs.
“I could be.”
You both glance down at the same time—at his hand. His long, slick fingers. He flexes them again, slower now, deliberately. The movement makes your mouth part on instinct.
“Can’t stop staring,” he says, voice soft and dangerous. “Bet you’ve been thinking about them all day, haven’t you?”
You don’t answer. You don’t need to. The way you shift in place, grinding subtly into the bench for friction, says it for you.
“Tell me,” he leans forward just slightly, voice just for you now, “what exactly do you want them to do, hmm?”
Your breath shudders. He lifts his hand and brings it to your knee—doesn’t even grip, just rests it there—and your whole body tenses.
“I—” Your eyes flick to his hand. “I don’t know.”
He grins. “You do know. Don´t be shy about it now.”
Then, without warning, he brings his fingers to your mouth.
“Open.”
You do. Obedient. Eager.
He slips two in, slowly, and you close your lips around them like you’ve been craving the taste. He groans low and under his breath but you catch it. You swirl your tongue around them, watching his eyes darken, his pupils blown wide as your mouth works him.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “Look at you.”
You moan around them soft, needy and the sound makes his jaw clench. His hand tightens slightly where it rests on your knee.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked already, aren’t you?”
You nod, still sucking, your thighs clenching around the bench. He slowly pulls his fingers out, the sound slick and sinful.
“I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he says. “And you’re already falling apart.”
You lean in closer, desperate for more, but he just smirks.
“Patience,” he murmurs. “We’re just getting started.”
The air between you crackles, thick and heavy. His fingers are still glistening from your mouth when he slowly drops them to the bench, dragging them along the edge just beside your thigh—close enough to make you flinch, but not touch.
“I could make you come,” he says, almost conversational, “without ever fucking you.”
Your thighs twitch.
“Just these fingers,” he continues, lifting them again, letting you watch every lazy curl and flex. “Two inside, more if you’re greedy. Curl them just right. Thumb on your clit. I wouldn’t even need to move much, you’d do all the work for me.”
You swallow hard, your mouth dry again despite what just happened. You’re starting to breathe through your thighs, desperate for pressure. For anything.
“Poor baby,” he hums. “Already squirming. And I haven’t even touched you there yet.”
He reaches forward now, finally, hooking his hands under your thighs and tugging—slow, strong—until you're sliding forward, legs falling wider around his knees, straddling him open and shameless. The bench presses hard beneath you. The only thing grounding you.
You grip the sides of it to keep yourself upright, arching slightly back as he leans in, his face still maddeningly calm. Like he has all the time in the world.
“Such a good view like this,” he mutters, tugging at the hem of your shorts. “Look at you.”
You make a soft, breathless sound—half protest, half plea—but you lift your hips, let him peel the shorts down, and when he does, he curses.
“Fuck.”
His thumb brushes just barely over the soaked fabric of your underwear. He groans again, dragging the edge aside for a peek.
“Oh, baby… it’s so easy. I knew you were already this wet.”
The sound you make isn't even a moan—more like a gasp, a choke of arousal and embarrassment all in one.
He smiles, slow and sharp.
“You love it when I talk like this, don’t you?”
You nod, breath hitching again as he lifts one hand—that hand—and brings his thumb back to your mouth.
“Open.”
You part your lips again, greedier this time. He slides in with purpose now, pressing down on your tongue, keeping your mouth full while his other hand starts to move—slow, torturous circles against the inside of your thigh.
Not quite where you need him. Not yet.
You moan around his thumb, hips shifting involuntarily, trying to chase friction.
“Not yet,” he says, voice thick with control. “I’ll tell you when.”
And the worst part?
You want him to.
Your breath catches as his thumb presses down harder on your tongue. He watches the way your lips part, the way your jaw slackens around it, like he could read every desperate little thought spilling through your mind just by the way you take his touch.
“Bet you taste as good here,” he mutters, half to himself, then drags his thumb out, wet and glistening.
His other hand trails up—finally, finally—over the inside of your thigh. You feel the brush of his knuckles first, then the slight dip of his wrist as he moves in.
And then contact.
One slow stroke through your folds, slick and unbearably sensitive. You jolt at the first touch, head tipping back slightly, a broken sound slipping from your throat.
He groans softly. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”
You nod, barely breathing, back arching even further, hands gripping the bench behind you so tightly your knuckles go white.
He teases again just one finger, lazy and slow, tracing circles around your entrance without dipping in.
“You want it?” he asks, voice low and smug.
“Y-yes,” you pant. “Please.”
He hums like he’s considering it—like he hasn’t already decided what he’s going to do.
Then, slowly, he slides one finger in.
Your body clenches around it instantly, a shiver running through you at the stretch of it, even if it’s just one. His hand stills inside you, and your hips buck forward instinctively.
But he doesn’t move.
“Feel that?” he asks, leaning in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Just one, and you’re already so tight.”
You whimper, trying to move your hips again, but his free hand comes down on your thigh—firm, steadying.
“No, baby,” he whispers. “You stay still. You let me have you like this.”
Then, torturously slow, he starts to move that finger—curling it up, dragging it out, then back in. Unhurried. Deep. Precise.
You’re already shaking.
He adds a second, and you cry out, hips rocking despite his grip. He doesn't stop you this time—he lets you ride his hand for a moment, lets you get just enough friction to start climbing toward that dizzying edge.
Then he stops.
Completely.
You gasp, body tense and twitching, your walls fluttering around nothing.
“Lando—please—”
“Not yet,” he says again, with a cruel smile. “You don’t get to come just because you want to.”
You groan, your head falling forward, forehead brushing against his shoulder. You're panting now, every muscle strung tight.
He leans in, kisses your cheek so softly it makes you ache.
“I’ll give you what you need,” he murmurs. “But not until you beg for it. Not until you’re so fucking desperate you can’t say anything else.”
Then—two fingers again—thrusting deep, curling hard into the spot that makes your vision blur.
But just as you start to unravel—
He pulls away.
“Please,” you whisper—voice cracking, small. “Lando, please, I need— I need to—”
He watches you fall apart on the edge of the sentence. Your chest rising and falling, thighs trembling around him, hips twitching as if your body’s trying to finish what he keeps denying.
“Need to what?” he asks, softly cruel. His fingers are still buried inside you, unmoving, just there—reminding you who’s in control.
You shake your head, helpless. “Please. Let me come. I can’t— I need it.”
A long pause.
Then he shifts. His other arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you forward until you’re straddling his thighs completely, chest to chest. You clutch at his shoulders for balance, breath fanning across his neck.
“Alright,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “You’ve been good.”
And then he moves.
His fingers curl up inside you again, that perfect rhythm returning like he never stopped. Deep and precise. Every stroke sends a sharp, blinding jolt through you. His palm presses against your clit now, every motion designed to undo you.
It doesn’t take long.
You’re already so close, your body trembling with the force of it, moaning shamelessly into his neck. Your hips grind down against his hand, chasing it, needing it.
And when you finally come, it rips through you like a wave—loud and messy, your body jerking, thighs clenching around his. He holds you through it, arm firm around your waist, keeping you grounded while you writhe and cry out against him.
But he doesn’t stop.
His fingers stay inside. His thumb keeps circling. You flinch from the sensitivity, but he just shushes you, his voice all dark velvet now.
“Shh… I know, I know. But you can take it.”
You barely have time to process it before he starts moving again—deeper now, slower but relentless.
You squirm in his lap, trying to lift your hips, but his arm around your back tightens.
“Oh no, baby. Not done yet.”
You’re breathing in gasps now, mind foggy with overstimulation. His fingers drag over that same spot again, and your whole body jerks.
“You think you can take one more?” he asks, voice low and thick.
You don’t know what he means—another orgasm? Another finger?
But it doesn’t matter. You nod, frantic, clinging to him.
“Good girl,” he growls. “Open up for me.”
And then—a third finger presses against your entrance, joining the others slowly, stretching you further than before. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, head tipping back.
You’re full. Too full.
And still—you want more.
The third finger slides in slow—but it still punches the air right out of your lungs.
The stretch is too much. Too good. You collapse against him without even thinking, your body folding forward as your arms scramble to hold on to something—his shoulders, his chest, his neck. Anything to stop you from tipping over completely.
“Easy,” he murmurs, voice thick with arousal, the barest rasp curling around the word. “You feel that, baby?”
You nod barely, a choked sound falling from your lips that doesn’t resemble a word at all. Just a noise, raw and wrecked.
It goes straight through him.
Your head rests on his shoulder now, lips parted against his skin, and you're making sounds that have no place in the daylight. Unholy sounds—wet and breathy and trembling—moans that spill right into his ear, sending visible shudders down his spine.
He breathes out a curse and tightens his arm around your waist, anchoring you to him.
And then his thumb moves again.
A soft, slow drag over your clit, slick and maddening. Your whole body jerks, thighs twitching violently, but there’s nowhere to go—his hand between your legs, his body caging you in.
You try to close your thighs, instinctively trying to shield yourself from how much it is, but you can’t. Not with him there—his hips wide between yours, thighs bracketing you in place.
“Lando—fuck—Lando, I—” It’s barely a whisper, more like a sob.
You clutch at your own thighs now, hands fisting in your own skin, trying to ground yourself, to hold something through the crushing intensity—but nothing helps. Not when his fingers keep moving, deep and deliberate inside you, his thumb unrelenting.
You’re already there again. It crashes into you like your whole body is detonating from the inside out.
You go still—then trembling—hips stuttering, breath gone completely.
All you can do is whimper, face buried in his shoulder, thighs shaking around him, as your body clenches around his fingers and the high keeps going.
“That’s it,” he growls, voice right in your ear. “So fucking good. God, listen to you. Can’t even talk.”
You shake your head, still trying to breathe. Still feeling it. Still full.
And he hasn’t stopped.
You don’t even realize when he slips his fingers out—when that delicious, punishing stretch is suddenly gone. All you know is the cold shock of emptiness, and the warm, slow tease of him dragging his fingers through your folds instead. Light. Feather-soft. Too soft.
Your whole body twitches, hips trying to follow the sensation, to sink back onto him again—but there’s nothing to sink onto.
“Lando,” you gasp—voice barely there. Just air and heat.
You’re fully collapsed against him now, skin flushed and damp, face buried in his neck, breath stuttering against his pulse. Wrecked. Unraveled. His other hand strokes idly over your lower back, holding you there like you belong.
And those fingers—those fingers—are tormenting you.
They circle the rim of your entrance, slow and teasing, never pressing in. Just tracing, dragging through slick, rubbing softly through folds that are aching, twitching with the aftershocks of your last orgasm and the rising threat of the next.
You let out a broken, pleading noise that you can’t even name. Your whole body trembles against his.
He leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.
“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, and it’s maddening gentle and cruel all at once.
Your only response is a shiver, a whimper that sounds like yes. He chuckles low in his throat, and you feel it vibrate against your skin.
“I think it is,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth along the side of your neck. “Look at you. Completely gone. Just because of my fingers.”
And then he kisses you there lazy kisses, open-mouthed and slow, just under your jaw, the kind that make your head spin all over again.
“You love being like this, don’t you?” Another kiss, this time higher, nearer to your ear. “Pressed against me, soaking my lap, crying for it.”
He dips his fingers again—just once, shallow, before pulling back and brushing over your clit once and you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted, whimpering into his neck.
“Mm, yeah,” he groans softly, biting your shoulder. “You’ll beg for it again in a minute, won’t you?”
You nod, desperate. Wordless.
And still—he waits.
“Lando, it’s too much, I— I can’t,” you whisper, voice cracking at the edges, more breath than sound.
“I know,” he murmurs.
And still, he doesn’t stop.
He shifts with you like it’s easy, like he’s carried you this way a hundred times. One arm stays locked around your waist, guiding you as he lays you back gently on the narrow bench, body following yours. You're still clutching him, thighs spread and shaking, hips twitching at every brush of air.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers again, hovering over you, face barely an inch away. “Say the word.”
You don’t. You can’t. You’re too far gone, trembling under the weight of his body and the ache of his absence where you need him most.
He smiles—not smug, but soft. Like he knows every part of you now.
His lips press to yours. A gentle kiss, slow and unhurried, like you're not already soaking his lap and half-crying from how badly you need him. He kisses down your neck, tongue trailing, teeth grazing, then nibbles at the curve of your ear.
You gasp again, another moan escaping you, your body arching into his even without thinking.
Only then does he finally pull his hand up from between your legs, fingers soaked, dripping, glistening in the low light. He stares at them for a beat, breath catching.
“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes dark. “Look what you did.”
You can only watch him wide-eyed, panting, almost pleading.
Then he brings those fingers to his mouth.
And sucks them clean.
Slowly. One at a time. Licking each digit like he’s tasting dessert, groaning low in his throat. His tongue flicks at the base of his knuckles, and your thighs twitch again.
You’re dizzy watching him.
And when he’s done, he looks at you again eyes smoldering now, like he's barely holding himself together.
He reaches down, trailing his wet fingers across your lips.
“Open,” he whispers.
You do.
And he slips them in.
You suck greedily, tongue swirling around them, and it’s him who moans now deep and ragged, his hips dropping hard against yours, finally chasing friction.
The contact shocks a gasp from you both.
You feel it—him—hard and heavy through his shorts, grinding slowly into your soaked heat. The thin barrier does nothing. You feel every movement, every flex of his hips as he lets himself finally take what he needs.
“God, you feel that?” he growls, pulling his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down your chest as he ruts against you. “I’ve been holding back all fucking day.”
His forehead drops to yours, breathing hard.
You’re already so open to him, thighs still twitching, lips parted around the breath you can't catch—so when he finally shifts, tugging his shorts down just enough to free himself, it feels like the world holds its breath.
You certainly do.
And then he presses in.
There’s no warning. No teasing. Just one slow, thick glide of his cock between your folds, catching at your entrance—already so soaked, so ready for him—and then he pushes, hips firm and steady.
You gasp, legs falling wider as he sinks into you inch by inch.
He fills you so deeply it makes your back arch right off the bench, your nails digging into his arms, eyes fluttering shut with a choked moan.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked. “So tight—always so tight for me.”
He stays there for a moment, buried to the hilt, not moving—just feeling. Letting the stretch and fullness overwhelm you both. You shudder beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Then he pulls back. Slowly. Until just the tip is left inside.
And thrusts in again deep, deliberate, like he’s staking a claim.
You cry out, head rolling to the side, breath catching.
He finds his rhythm like it’s instinct—slow, firm strokes that rock your body against the bench, controlled but possessive. Every thrust feels like a promise. Like he wants to imprint himself inside you.
“This what you needed?” he murmurs, mouth at your jaw, one hand sliding up to cup your face as he drives into you again. “Needed me to fuck you like this slow and deep, where no one else can ever reach?”
You nod, whimpering, gripping at his back now, trying to pull him impossibly closer.
His forehead presses to yours, lips brushing yours between kisses and curses and panting breaths.
He groans again, slower now, hips dragging all the way out only to slam back in, grinding against your pelvis, his cock hitting every sensitive spot with devastating precision.
“Feel so good,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect like this, spread out for me, taking it all.”
You moan louder, hands tangled in his curls now, body arching into his, chasing every drag and press of his cock like it’s the only thing that matters.
His hand slides down to your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his waist so he can sink even deeper if that was possible. The change in angle rips a cry from your throat.
He groans again, deep and low, like it’s killing him to hold back. But he does. For you.
You don’t know when the tears start.
It’s not from pain—never from that. It’s the pressure, the fullness, the way his cock keeps hitting that spot so deep inside you it turns pleasure into something unbearable, almost too much to hold.
You blink, and they fall—slow trails down your temples as you lie back on the bench, your body trembling, shuddering beneath him. His thrusts haven’t sped up still slow, still deep but they’ve gotten heavier, more deliberate, like every single one is meant to stay with you.
He sees it the second your lip quivers.
“Baby,” he breathes, the word catching in his throat.
He leans in immediately, brushing kisses to your cheeks, catching the tears with his lips as his hand comes up to cradle your face.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re okay. I promise. You’re doing so good for me.”
His voice—low, warm, soothing—makes your chest tighten in a different way, something emotional blooming beneath the tension coiling in your gut.
You’re close again. You can feel it. Your body’s trying to run from it, hips twitching, legs shaking, but there’s nowhere to go not when he’s pressed so deep inside you, holding you so gently even while he fucks you open.
“I know it’s a lot,” he murmurs, kissing your lips now, slow and careful. “You’re so full, huh? So fucking wet, clenching around me like you can’t help it.”
You cry out at that, sobbing into his mouth, your nails digging into his back again as your body tries to contain it this aching pressure, this need to fall apart one more time.
“I’ve got you,” he says again. “Let it go. Let me feel you.”
He shifts just slightly just enough and suddenly that perfect, devastating drag of his cock has you gasping, clenching around him so hard it’s instinct, involuntary.
“Oh my—Lando—fuck—”
“That’s it,” he growls, voice tight and trembling now, his own control slipping as your body contracts around him. “Fuck, baby—God, you’re milking me—”
It tips you over like a wave crashing into shore. Your orgasm rushes up through your spine, curling you forward into his chest as your thighs shake violently around his hips. Your whole body tenses, then breaks sobbing, gasping, your cries muffled against his neck.
And that’s all it takes.
He groans a sound so raw and desperate it vibrates against your heart and his hips slam forward one final time, grinding into you as he comes, thick and hot and deep, filling you completely.
“Fuck—fuck, baby—oh, shit,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “You feel so good—so fucking good—”
His whole body shudders above you, and he collapses into your chest, still inside you, holding you like you might disappear.
You're both breathing hard now, tangled together, soaking and shaking and quiet.
He kisses you again. Your cheek, your temple, your lips. Each one soft, reverent.
“You okay?” he whispers against your mouth, voice hoarse.
“I love you like this,” he says, breath still uneven. “Fucking ruined and mine.”
You're both still trembling, bodies sticky and flushed, tangled together on the narrow bench like the rest of the world doesn't exist.
His breathing slows against your skin. One arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, anchoring you, the other hand tangled in your hair as he presses slow kisses to your temple, your cheek, your jaw.
You smile—barely, weakly—still catching your breath. Your legs feel like they’ve melted.
And then, voice low and wrecked but laced with a tease, you whisper against his neck:
“Thanks for the stretch.”
He freezes for a second—then laughs. That warm, wrecked kind of laugh, breathless and totally undone.
“Jesus,” he groans into your hair. “You’re gonna kill me.”
never let red bull forget that they allowed horner to keep his job with an entire legal case against him, one in which he displayed inappropriate, controlling behaviour towards a female colleague. they then fired his victim, completely shut her down and had men throughout the paddock expressing sympathy for HIM. i still hope that entire rotten institution burns
Summary - lando breaks up with you. Need I say more?
Warnings - dickhead lando, angst angst angst, a bit of smut.
Not proofread. Will be a series.
Things hadn’t been the same for a while now. Day by day, things were shifting - the distance, the late night phone calls, the ‘I love you’s’
His win on Sunday was a bittersweet day, for you at least. You’d just watched the love of your life achieve one of his childhood dreams, but your heart clenched at the same time. Knowing whatever this was - the last 3 years together would soon be thrown away.
You can’t pin point the exact moment that things started changing. You could argue it was in Abu Dhabi last year, the last race when Mcl won the championship. Or it could have been Saudi this year, after his team mate won two back to back races. But somewhere along the line Lando stopped treating you like you were his world.
If you couldn’t attend a race, you’d barely speak, only really when you were the one to initiate conversation. He’d blame it on the time difference, or just tiredness. And you’d believe him.
When he was finally home, maybe after a double or triple header, he wasn’t dragging you to the bedroom for a hard fuck like he used to do. No. Now it was a peck on the cheek, before an excuse about going to golf with the boys, or just exhaustion so he needed sleep. And you’d let it slide.
Yes, he’d give you a quick fuck when he felt like it, but it was nothing to write home about. And more often than not, you’d hear him jacking himself off in the bathroom. But when you’d try to cuddle into him or try to start some form of sexual activity, even if it was just kissing, his mind would be elsewhere, fingers typing aggressively at his phone or letting you go slyly. And you’d let go, not push him.
Arguments grew over time. Over silly, stupid things. Nothing dramatic or nasty. But just frustration from the both of you.
Little things he used to do - whether it was buy you flowers, or tell you you look pretty, or even just a lingering hand on you - it was disappeared. He was slowly floating away from you - or he was letting you float away from him.
Soon even the magic three words weren’t being said. Of course, it was routine for you, you still said it multiple times a day, and maybe, if you’re lucky, you get one back. But it wasn’t something you expected now.
Everything was slowly fading away. Somewhere at the back of your mind, you knew you deserved better. Who in their right mind would stick along for this long without saying something, asking him why, confronting him. Day by day it was getting more difficult, but at the same time, a part of you stuck around because you love him with everything inside of you. He was your end game, or so you thought.
Going back to silverstone a few days ago, yes he held you a little longer that he’d done in the last few months combined, but that was all in front of other people - family, friends, fans, the media. Behind closed doors he was a different person. A guard up almost, hardly acknowledging your presence.
The night out was decent, you’d both had a few drinks in you, and as the night went on Lando did get a bit more handsy, but no where near the level he used to in the past. It felt foreign to you. To be right there with him but at the same time a million miles apart. The banter, small conversation, flirting, had all disappeared.
Safe to say when you got back to the hotel, you were stunned to find Lando in a hurry to strip your clothes off of you, his lips on yours, messy and sloppy, but hard and deep. Your body reacted to his immediately. You’d missed this part of your relationship, and right now you were grabbing the opportunity with both hands. You frantically unbuttoned his shirt, shred his jeans and boxers down before he pushed you back onto the bed. No foreplay this time. Just erratic breaths mingling, hands touching each other everywhere you could, a sheet of sweat glazing both your bodies as Lando finally pumped himself a few times, wasting no time in thrusting into you in one go, hard. You’d both moaned in unison at the stretch, wrapping your legs around him as tightly as possible while he set a quick pace, fucking in and out of your cunt like he was a man starved. Normally by now lando would be whispered filthy words in your ears, telling how good a slut you were for him, but this time the room was just filled with grunts, moans, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, with the occasional noise of sloppy kisses. ‘Lan’ you moaned, biting down on his shoulder when he moved your lips to his neck. ‘I’m close’ you mumbled feeling him move his fingers down to your core, toying at your clit which sent you over the edge in seconds, your body shuddering beneath him as he picked him his pace, chasing his own high now as you eventually came a second time. At some point, he slid out, climbing off the bed while gripping your ankles tightly to pull you to the edge. He sent one foot back on the bed, one rooted to the ground before thrusting back into you, hands tight on your hips, ramming in and out of you relentlessly. ‘Fuck’ you heard him mutter as his movements started faltering, fingers playing your clit again to push you both over at the same time- him spelling his seed deep into you while you whined under him, body flimsy like jelly as lando collapsed on top of you.
But that was a short lived moment of weirdness, because things soon went back to the new normal straight after that.
Today, we were both to attend a Ralph Lauren event in London. The day had actually been enjoyable for once, unruly tension not filling the air because Max and P had been with you guys since the morning, though P slipped the question to you while getting ready for the event.
‘Hey are you guys okay. Lando’s been so detached from you all day, so unlike him’ he shrugged, eyes glued to yours to gauge your reaction.
You were caught off guard, trying to play it cool so to not give too much away, not face your fears.
‘Yeah we’re good’ you replied. ‘Just one of those days’ you said, turning your attention to smoothening out the cute black dress you had on, glad she didn’t ask anything more.
…
Lando held your hand tightly in front of the cameras, dropping small hints of banter but still not what you were used to, and so as the night went on you kept busy by mingling and a taking in a few glasses of champagne, the nerve to forget about your worries taking over.
Much to your dismay, you caught yourself looking over at Lando more often than not, clenching your thighs together a little tighter each time you look him in. The man looked a dream, so incredibly sexy. And once upon a time, by now you’d have text him to come to the bathroom for a quickie, or rather - he’d have been the one to text you. Not now, though.
You both were now on the plane back to Monaco, well past midnight. The ride back, was tense to say the least. Lando was focused on his phone to while time you tried to make small talk to him.
‘Hmm?’ He’d ask you repeat, holding your gaze for all of 5 seconds before looking down at his phone again.
At some point though, something in his clicked, and he swiftly put his phone away to look at you, in a way that made your heart fall into your stomach.
‘We need to talk’ he said, voice soft.
You couldn’t help but let out a sigh with a slight chuckle. ‘Yeah, no shit’ you said, slightly shocked at your reaction, as was he.
‘I just feel like where I’m at with the championship, I need a break’ he said, eyes cold staring back at you.
‘I-a-a-break? From me, you mean?’ You questioned as he nod his head quickly.
‘Why? Why me?’ You asked again when he didn’t speak.
‘Cos you’re always there. Always needy. Just-‘ he sighed. ‘Clingy’
Your breath caught in your throat, tears already slipping down your cheeks. Your head was pounding, too many different thought colliding at once as you tried to ground yourself.
You nodded your head, wiping away at your tears, disbelief that that was his excuse.
‘So for 6 months you’ve strung me along. Made me feel like absolute shit, like I mean fuck all to you - just because I’m clingy?’ You asked.
‘I don’t know. I just know that I need to concentrate on my driving. Not have any distractions. Not have to worry about you needing my attention all the time. Fucks sake. Just need to fucking get away from you honestly.’ He threw at you, making your body instinctively recoil at his words, not knowing who this was in front of you right now.
You knew it was a weak excuse. You were far from clingy. Yes, you treat him how any normal girl would her boyfriend, and in fact, if anyone was clingy in this relationship, it was Lando. It was one his love language, always needing to be close to you, holding or touching you somehow, whether it was when he needed support before a race, after a difficult race weekend, or even at joyous occasions. You were his lifeline. Granted, that’s not how the year so far had been, considering how much he pushed you away, but you weren’t going to allow him to throw you under the bus like this.
‘I don’t believe you. Tell me Lan, for once be honest with me about why you’ve been like this. Why you’ve pushed me away, kept me at arms length’ you threw back albeit your voice cracked about half way through your sentence.
He shrugged. ‘Just feel like I’ve had enough of your shit. You’re suffocating me’ he spat.
You pulled back, arms guarding yourself as more tears stained your cheeks. ‘You don’t mean that’ you stated, voice so soft you weren’t sure if he even heard you.
He chuckled opposite you. ‘Trust me, I mean it. Been keeping this peace, forcing it even. You just don’t excite me anymore. I’m fucking bored’ he said coldly.
‘That’s a new low’ you whispered, more to yourself as you shook, full on trembling in shock.
‘Is it? Or is it just the truth you didn’t wanna hear?’
‘Lando, stop, please’ you begged. You were on a fucking plane, not like you could walk out to protect yourself.
‘Is there someone else?’ You mustered up the courage to ask. Because why else would he drag you down so low?
‘Maybe. And so what if I do? At least she gives me a reason to stay’ he said, jaw tight with his hands fists at his sides.
‘Lando..’ you said his name, quietly, holding so much weight. You wished he’d just apologize, say he was lying, hold you close. But he sat there, arrogant, cocky. Not someone you knew.
By now you needed an out. Your body was on autopilot as you got up from your seat opposite him and made your way to the back of the jet. You heard him mutter something to himself but you couldn’t make out the words.
Was this really happening? Your Lando, being the one causing your heart to break right now? You curled up into a ball, sobbed to yourself.
The rest of the plane ride was silent.
…
It was well past 2pm by the time you’d landed back in Monaco. Calling a cab at this hour would be impossible, and so you had no option but to go home with Lando, in his car.
He was silent as he loaded your baggage into the back of his urus, his jaw clenched and movements rough.
You- sat in your seat, face puffy from all the crying, making an effort to not look at him, knowing it would break you further.
As he drove back, the tension in the car was ungodly, his knuckles white from the steering wheel. This was the smallest you’d ever felt in your relationship and your heart ached at losing Lando.
Back at the penthouse, you grabbed your bags before he had the chance, jolting upstairs and unlocking the door, him trailing behind you.
When you got in, smelt the familiar smell of him-and you-your shared space, the place that once bought you comfort, now, you only felt like a stranger.
You moved past the kitchen to make your way to the bedroom, quickly finding a small bag to pack some overnight clothes.
‘Fucks sake. You’re not going anywhere right now. It’s 3am’ he said, voice hoarse, thick British accent coming through making you jump in your spot.
You ignored him, nothing to say to the man as you carried on grabbing your essentials, new tears gracing your face. You didn’t know where you would go, but you needed to get out of this space.
Taking a minute to find your car keys, you started walking toward the door when he spoke again.
‘Y/n seriously. Where’re you gonna go at this hour?’
For the first time since the lame convo, you looked at him, really looked at him and took him in. His face was softer, anger drifted away, hooded eyes, red rimmed.
You almost would have missed it if you didn’t look long enough.
But it was there.
The guilt.
Just for a fraction of a second though, before he composed himself, stood upright again.
‘Somewhere. Anywhere-away from you’ you said, barely.
He scoffed.
‘You think saying that’s gonna affect me? Make me feel something? God you really are so desperate for me.’ He said, words slicing through your heart as you stood there dumbfounded.
He then stepped closer, voice lower now.
‘It’s exhausting y/n. Pretending. To be happy with you’ he continued.
The silence that followed was blistering as his eyes bored into yours, holding none of that warmth you were used to getting from him.
Eventually, unable to breathe, you nodded.
‘Keep telling yourself that Lan. And let’s never make this mistake again’ you said softly, body starting to tremble before you turned around.
Walked out.
…
Your body was cold, unable to comprehend how the night unfolded. You kept replaying his words the whole time you drove around Monaco multiple times. Why didn’t he just break up with you plain and simple without throwing those words at you? Words that literally felt like they broke your heart in ways you never thought possible. You didn’t know..but you do know you’d lost the love of your life a while ago now, not just tonight.
Y’all IDK where the angst came from but I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist.
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Summary - the aftermath of fucking with no condom.
Warnings - pregnancy, light angst, unprotected sex, m! and f! receiving oral, blowjob, cum play, spit play, nipple stimulation, degradation, use of the word slut, use of the word milf.
Idk where the angst came from. But hope you enjoy xx
4.2+K words
You stared at the two lines on each of the three sticks, heart beating rapidly as a million thoughts went through your head. The thought at was at the front - Lando. And his reaction.
The night he won Monaco was one of the best you’d had together. A newfound intimacy that neither of you saw coming, but so gladly welcomed. It had been 3 months since that night, 3 months since Lando had fucked you continuously without a condom whenever you were together. Yes you both talked about it while going at it - him fucking a baby into you. But the reality of the situation was never spoken about outside of the bedroom. And now? You’d woken up last week feeling queasy, but of course you blamed it on your recent travels, busy schedules, out of routine. Not once did this become a possibility in your head. This morning though? It came rushing through you as you bent over the toilet seat, spewing last nights dinner out of your body. Lando was quick behind you, holding your hair back and rubbing your back ever so gently. ‘Must be the damn salmon, now you get why I don’t eat fish, yeah?’ He had chuckled - more to himself. You kept your thoughts to yourself. Not wanting to face it head on without knowing for sure. Not wanting to panic lando for not reason - or worse, not wanting to see him put a guard up if it were true. So you waited til he left for training, walking to the store in wobbly legs, and bought the three tests. Back home - the five minute wait took forever as you sat on the edge of the bath tub, heart beating out of your chest. Then your phone timer went off. And your world wobbled a little.
You decided you needed some time to process this before telling Lando. He had the right to know, but everything was happening too quickly right now. He came back from training, sweat dripping off his body as he pecked your lips, once, twice, before pulling you into a fill make out session, stealing your mind away for all of thirty seconds before he sensed something was off.
‘Babe?’
‘Hmm?’ You responded, pretending not to catch on.
‘You ok?’ He asked, back of his knuckles gently rubbing your cheek.
You took a deep breath. ‘Yeah, just still a bit icky from this morning’ you lied but was glad when he said he’d take a quick shower and spend the rest of the day cuddling.
Normally a day of cuddling would be welcomed with open arms by you, but today it was the worst. The quiet of the apartment and the steady beat of Lando’s heart against your head gave you too much space to think, or overthink really. You were sure Lando knew something was off, but still, you tred through the day without saying a word.
As you settled into bed that night, Lando was quick insinuate he wanted to fuck. And as much as you were withdrawn through the day, you were horny and so you didn’t protest when he slid up behind you, your back to his chest as his breath was hot against your neck.
His arm slid around your waist to cup your sex and you shifted slightly forward, spreading your legs further open to give him space as he pushed your panties to the side.
He dragged his fingers through your slick folds as he let out an incoherent groan at the feeling before circling your hole with his index.
‘You’re good, yeah?’ He breathed out as you nodded your head.
And it wasn’t long before Lando was finger fucking you, three fingers deep as you moaned lewd moans, one hand reaching back to cup his head behind you.
‘So fucking tight like always’ he cooed, quickening his pace as your walls constructed around him.
‘Lan, fuck’ you panted, your orgasm nearing with each second before he finally punched your clit, sending you into an array of grunts, your juices spewing all over his fingers as your body trembled beside his.
He slowed his movements, pulling out his fingers and bringing them straight to his lips as you shifted onto your back now, pulling his head down for a dirty kiss, making him hover above your body now.
‘Please, I need you’ you begged, body quite literally shivering with anticipation with how bad you needed him.
He was quick to shred both of your clothes off, and you bit down of your lip as he freed his member, hard as rock and glistening with pre cum as he pumped himself a few times, lining up at your entrance.
He pushed into with with a single thrust, bottoming out as your hands instinctively left his face and flew down to your stomach, your brain fizzled with everything that’s going on.
‘Shit, did I hurt you?’ He asked, pulling out completely, dick glistening with cum from your previous orgasm.
‘I-huh?’ You asked, confused at his sudden reaction.
He looked down to your hands cradling your stomach.
‘Did I hurt you? Why’re you holding your stomach like that?’ He questioned.
Your cheeks flushed, words stuttering out your mouth.
‘N-no, j-just a cramp. I-I’m okay’ you said, bringing your hands back up to his body.
‘You’re off today. What’s going on?’ He asked again.
‘Lan I’m okay, promise. Please, I need you’ he edged him on.
His face told you he didn’t believe you, but he remained his position, this time sliding into you slowly and carefully as if testing the waters, before setting a pace that was much slower than you were both used to.
You pulled his head down into your neck, so he wouldn’t have to look at you while a million different things went through your head, the pair of you grunting and groaning at the feeling as he started leaving open mouthed kisses at the base of your neck, suckling and biting down on your sweet spot.
‘Fuck Lan, please don’t stop, feels so good, god’ you whimpered, fists pulling at his hair.
His breath was hot against your cheek as he pulled back slightly, before locking lips with you in a sloppy kiss as his movements started becoming more erratic.
His hand slid down to your clit, finding it in no time as he pinched and pulled at it, sending you over the edge with no warning as you quivered beneath him.
Lando looks down, he’d never not get off seeing his dick coated with your cum, and now he back to thrusting in and out of you relentlessly, chasing him high as he latched his mouth onto one of your nipples, heavenly groans leaving his mouth as well as yours when you came yet again.
It wasn’t even a few seconds until came, ropes of hot sticky cum filling you up as you casually placed one hand over your belly again, Lando grunting in your ear, something about how ‘fucking amazing you are’ as his body bucked above yours.
He eventually slowed his pace, rolling off you breathlessly to lie next to you, both your chests heaving.
You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time today, and he was quick to smile at you, cuddling you to his side.
‘You sure you’re ok?’ He asked, as you nodded again. ‘More than’ you said, even if it was a lie.
‘Never gonna get tired to fucking you raw like this’ he whispered into your hair before you both feel asleep, drenched in each other’s juices.
You woke up the next morning in a fright, jumping out of bed for the toilet again as you threw up everything from yesterday.
Lando was quick behind you again, both your lack of clothes making it a rather awkward encounter, nothing graceful or sexy at all as you spewed your guts.
‘What’s going on, how are you sick this morning again?’ He asked as you finally stood up and rinsed your mouth at the basin.
As if the moment couldn’t get any worse, the both of your still naked, the words left your mouth before you could even think.
‘I’m pregnant.’ You said softly, feeling all your blood rush up to your brain as your gripped onto the counter as hard as you could, watching Lando.
He was silent. Looking at you like he’d seen a ghost, face going pale in a matter of seconds.
You felt a single tear slide down your cheek, the part of you which knew he wouldn’t be happy. It was just too early. But you both had no one to blame but yourselves.
Lando continued to stare at you as you wiped a few tears away, mentally begging him to just hold you, tell you that everything is gonna be okay.
But he didn’t.
Instead he looked down, before finally making his way out of the bathroom.
Your body shook, grabbing a towel from the counter and wrapping it around yourself as you followed him.
You watched with your heart in your mouth as he slipped on a pair of shorts and a tshirt, running shoes, before he finally looked up at you.
‘I need some space’ he said ever so softly, before walking out of the room.
On hearing the front door shut behind him, your body crumbled to the floor, sobs taking over you as the thing you were most afraid of happening was happening. Had you lost Lando?
After a while the sobs slowed, and you willed yourself to get up. You got your phone, dialing his number only to hear it ring endlessly on the other side. You sent him a message. ‘Please Lando. Just come home’ you begged, before taking a shower.
You got dressed and sat at the edge of the bed, body and mind numb, until you jolted awake when the front door opened.
Your chest was heaving now, very differently to how it was while you were under Lando last night, but you held your breath as his footsteps got louder, tears already spilling down your cheeks.
When he walked in, his face was flushed, pink cheeks, sweat dripping from his hair down.
He didn’t say anything as he came and sat down next to you. All he did was take your hand into his own and bring it to his lap.
‘I’m so fucking sorry for how I just acted y/n’ he said shortly, turning to face you as your body trembled with fear and a little bit of relief.
You don’t blame him for his lack of words or actions. It couldn’t have been easy for him to hear the words you just threw at him. But you just wished he held on you instead of running away.
Lando pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as tightly at he could.
‘I love you more than anything, you know that. And I’ll do everything in my power to always be here for you. Fuck y/n, baby please forgive me for running out just now.’ He said, locking your chin between his fingers to make you look up at him, your tears falling uncontrollably now. ‘I panicked, which i had no right to considering it was my idea to not use a condom since that night. But I’m right here now, I promise.’ He said, his own eyes glossy as he used his fingers to brush your hair out of your face.
‘I know Lan, it’s okay, but please talk to me. I can’t do this alone’ you sobbed into his chest again.
‘You’re not alone baby, look at me,’ he said, making you look up again. ‘You’re not alone baby. I’ll never let you be, yeah? Guess I just needed to clear my head, too many thoughts all at once. But I’m here now’ he repeated yet again.
He held on to you, tight as possible as your tears soaked his tshirt, while he whispered simple nothings into your ear until you calmed down.
Eventually you pulled back, eyes and cheeks puffy as he gently cradled your face, leaning down to let his lips liger against yours a for a bit before kissing you, pouring every bit of his love for you into it. You kissed him back, hard, straddling his hips now and pushing him to lie back.
When you pulled back for air, Lando let his hands find your belly. The gloss in his eyes returning. ‘We’re actually having a baby’ he said, almost in disbelief though he had a smile on his face.
You looked down before settling your hands above his, still on your stomach. ‘We are’ you repeated after him.
He sat up against the head board and gently rubbed the back of his knuckles against your stomach.
‘Hi baby, it’s your daddy’ he whispered, so softly your almost didn’t hear him as you ran your hands through his damp hair.
‘Lan, they’re probably the size of a peanut right now’ you said giggling through the tears that had escaped your eyes.
‘Shhh, I’m talking to our daughter’ he said, winking at you before turning his attention back to your stomach as your breath hitched.
‘You’r mummy’s the most amazing woman in the whole world, and I promise to love you both forever and ever’ he whispered again, leaning down to leave a few soft kisses.
You cupped his face as he then leaned up to kiss you again, ever so softly, but suddenly pulling back with a face contorted in shock.
‘What?’ You asked, panic returning.
‘Last night. I hurt you. Fuck. I must have hurt her’ he said, voice raspy and rising with each word.
‘Relax Lan, we’re okay. I promise’ you said, thumbs swiping across his cheeks.
‘I love you, and her, but fuck how the hell am I supposed to not fuck you for 9 month?’ He asked, not impressed.
‘You have to learn to make love to me darling’ you whispered, leaning down to kiss him before he could respond.
He kissed you back like his life depended on it, tongue battling yours as you fought back with equal measure, until he moved down to your neck, biting down harshly before soothing down with his tongue. All the while his hands found your boobs, massaging, tugging and circling around your nipples when he pulled back again, eyes glued to your chest. ‘You’re telling me your boobs are gonna be swollen, all because I fucked a baby into you?’ He asked, making you gasp and swat his chest in shock.
‘Lando!’
‘What? It’s the truth. Fuck nothings ever made me this hard before’ - a statement you’d agree with because your cunt was currently clenched around nothing as you felt his girth get thicker and thicker under your ass.
He gently rolled you over so he was hovering over you now, holding himself up on his palms that were on either side of your face. His eyes bore into yours, a look you’d never get tired of seeing, before he broke off into a smile, a full Lando Norris smile, and one you couldn’t help but through back at him.
‘A fucking baby. We’re actually gonna have a mini us running around’ he said softly.
‘Uh huh’ was all you could muster up as Lando dragged his fingers through your slick folds, while his mouth explored your lips, kissing you hard before lining two fingers up at your core.
You tangled your own hands in his hair and let out a guttural groan when he pushed them inside you, your walls immediately clenching tightly around him as he set a rhythm quickly, thrusting them in and out while continually hitting against your g-spot.
‘Fuck Lando. Please’ you begged, not sure what for. All you knew was you needed to feel him everywhere.
‘Gonna take my time with you baby. you’re fucking stuck with me now’ he murmured, adding a third finger, thumb brushing against your clit. And you don’t know if it was his words or the things his fingers were doing to you, but you very quickly felt that warmth build up in your stomach quicker than usual, letting out lewd moans as your orgasm ripped through you, your body shaking underneath him as he slid down, wasting no time in replacing his fingers with his tongue.
‘Fuck me. Of my god Lan!’ You shrieked when you felt his tongue, hot and hard against you while you still had cum gushing out of you. A string of more moan left your body as he didn’t slow his movements, relentlessly suckling on your cunt as you pulled on his hair.
Lando, clearly enjoying the little how, also let out his own hums and moans at the sounds you were making, his taste buds tingling at the taste of you.
Eventually and to no surprise, it wasn’t long until another orgasm approached, hard and fast as he lapped and lapped, making sure to swallow everything you could offer as your body shook once more.
Finally he pulled back, body collapsing alongside yours as you both caught your breaths.
‘I’m not done yet’ he warned as you’d think he’d stop without putting his dick inside of you.
You looked at him, panting, seller coating both your faces as you rolled on top of him, straddling him once more and leaning down to kiss him again.
While doing so, your hand reached back and got a hold of his throbbing cock, his hips bucking as he twitched in your hand, giving him a few pumps before he reluctantly let you go to let you slide down his body.
You were on your knees, pumping him ferociously as he settled his hands behind his head, face contorted in pleasure while small pants left his mouth.
You leaned forward, licking the seed to precut that was building up on his tip, asking him hiss at the contact.
‘That fucking mouth. Trouble, I’ll tell you that’ he said, winking down at you as you sent him a smirk before taking as much of him into your mouth as you could.
Lando let one hand tangle in your hair, gripped at your tightly as you worked on him, pumping whatever you couldn’t fit in while he released pornographic groans to fill the room, hips jerking forward every so often.
‘Fuck baby just like that. Always takes me so well’ he said breathlessly as you were full on gagging now, tears at the corners of your eyes and movements becoming sloppy, which made lando take control now, both his hands bracing your head tightly as he fucked his cock in and out of your mouth, obscene, wet, slick noises filling up the room.
‘Ah fuck. I’m close’ he grunted through gritted teeth, his own movements faltering now. He never bothered asking where you wanted it, he knew you to tell by now, but he was definitely caught off guard when you pulled off him just as his release hit him, and positioned yourself so he came gutturally all over your boobs, making a right mess as his chest heaved, both from his high but also at the sight in front of him, your face glistening his sweat, tears, and spit, while his cum was covering your chest, dripping down your body.
‘I-fuck. How do you fucking do it. Get sexier everyday. God’ he said, collapsing back onto the bed and pulling you down with him.
None of you cared at the mess you were making, you just needed to be as close as possible. The room - quite literally smelling of sex made your insides tangle. It was like your own bubble, away from the outside world.
Lando’s fingers combed through your hair, his breath still heavy and causing goosebumps on your body at the contrast.
‘Still gonna fuck you- no, make love to you’ he said, making you giggle with how high pitched his voice went, while his face was one of distaste.
‘Yeah?’ You asked teasingly. ‘You need a minute?’ You asked, pointed at his dick that was normally fully hard again by now but instead just semi-hard this time. He shifted, cupping himself.
‘God Lan, you’ve only just become a dad. Already losing your stamina?’ You joked. And that’s when he was back, wasting no time in man-handling your body so you were pinned underneath him, hands above your head in a lock.
‘Careful y/n’ he said, knowing you were putty his hands now, body squirming and wriggling under his , craving friction.
You closed your eyes, let out a few pants as you couldn’t find it in you to respond to him, knowing you had lost the little game that you started.
With one hand still pinning yours above your head, Lando let the fingers of his other linger on his sticky cum on your boobs, spreading it around, picking your perked nipples with it before finally leaning down and letting his lips close around your pebble, sucking harshly, groaning when he swallowed his own cum.
‘Lando, please’ you begged, sure you let cum from just the sight of him, just the thought of him tasing himself.
‘So desperate and for what? For me? For my cock?’ He asked.
‘Yes. Please.’ You responded, not caring how ridiculously desperate you sounded.
Lando liked himself up at your entrance, his face hovering just above yours, so close that your breaths were mingling, and the he pushed in, ever so gently, the both of you groaning in unison.
You bit down on his shoulder, nails digging into his biceps as his body stilled, giving you both a few seconds to adjust before he finally started moving, thrusting in and out, slowly but deeply, your body shifting upwards with each movement.
‘Look at you’ he said, breath hot on your cheek. ‘Always so ready for me. Always so fucking right for me’ he said while your nails scratched along his back, surely drawing blood with his deep you were going.
‘Lan please don’t stop. Please. I-I- fuck. You feel so good baby’ you moaned, wrapping your legs around him as tight as you could.
‘Such a slut f’me’ he said, movements slightly faster but still not quick enough to what you were both used to.
At one point he pulled back to look at you, kissing you tender before saying words that rocked your core.
‘Not slut. milf. My own fucking milf. Fuck me’ he said, voice raspy, almost whispering the last part to himself as he dropped his head back into your neck and let out a rough grunt.
All you could do was shut your eyes, leave wet kisses along his own neck while letting out quick pants, quick moans, his hand traveling south to play with your clit which in turn sent you graveling over the edge, body trembling uncontrollably as your walls clenched tightly around him, cum coating his dick as he groaned at the feeling.
He slowed his movements, almost coming to complete stop as you whined at him.
‘Need a minute fuck. Don’t want it to end here’ he said, pulling out and sitting back on his knees, fingers still circling your pussy to give you some pleasure.
You looked at each other, breathless, faces flushed, hair damp with sweat, and before you could fathom what was happening, you found yourself on all fours, Lando thrusting himself through you while one hand was latched to your hips and the other tangled in your hair.
This was always one of his favorite positions, especially after making you cum a few times before. The sight of you on your hands and knees, skin slick and ass perfectly rounded, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you moaned and squirmed before him.
Picking up the pace a little, he pulled your body up, so your back was against his chest, and he snaked a hand to your front, traveling up your body and snaking around your neck, putting some pressure but not enough to hurt you, sending you into an array of grunts.
It felt like he had a claim on you, the though along pushing you over the edge once again, body like jelly, shuddering in his arms as pulled out yet again, flipping you over and giving straight back through your cunt, looking for his own high.
‘Lando’ you panted, too fucked out to say anything else.
‘I know. I’m right there with you baby’ he said, and not a few seconds later was he emptying his loaf into you, pushing it deeper and deeper as his cock Troy he’d uncontrollably, hips bucking into yours, obscene noises and swear words leaving his mouth as he slumped down on your body.
The only sounds in the room were that of your scattered breaths, nothing else. Lando was practically glued to your body, the mix of sweat and cum making a filthy mess of the both of you as he stayed wrapped in your arms for the longest time, before he pecked his head up to look at you.
‘You’re fucking amazing. I love you, and our baby so much. I’ll always love you both. He whispered, lips pecking yours every so often.
‘I love you too Lan. I know this is crazy timing, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure you have our support, always.’ You said, pulling him in for a tantalizing kiss.
Fin.
Y'all - i forgot about the taglist for Part 1. Here it is. @gvcnnnnnnnbvszxv @alliseeisversainz @yapper3001 @htpssgavi @itspapayabae @elliefind
Summary - Lando fucks you without a condom for the first time. This could really be read as two fics combined from my poll (Before the race weekend, lando said he’d fuck you without a condom if he wins AND He fucks a baby into you when you celebrate later that night.) Let me know if you'd prefer a whole separate one though, or if i should write a part two basically confirming you got pregnant from all the nasty you did. Let me knowwww
Warnings - heavy smut. blowjob. m! and f! receiving. oral sex. fingering. penetrative sex. cowgirl. unprotected sex. spit play. cum play. use of the words slut and whore.
3.5K+
It was Friday - free practice day, and you noticed that Lando had woken up this morning feeling optimistic about the weekend - a feeling you'd wanted to see him feel since Australia.
A little bit of a back story? You were a Sky content creator, and had been dating Lando for a little over 6 months now, so still pretty new, although it really felt like he was your end game. You knew he was. Your relationship was still private, not yet out in the open though there had been speculation, but you'd both tried to keep it as secret as possible, enjoying your own bubble.
Lando's win in Australia was the perfect way to start the season, but it all fell short when the next races up until now were less than fruit full. So to see Lando full of hope today, you were secretly thanking the gods above. He had been harsh on himself up until now. Too harsh.
Call it wanting to rile him up with more adrenaline, whatever it was, this is how you wound up in the position you found yourselves in right now -
Lando had just come out the shower, a towel hanging low on his hips as you sat up in bed and silently watched him do his hair care routine. His dark eyes found yours in the mirror. 'Like something you see?' he asked, sly smirk on his face.
You felt your cheeks heat up immediately, clearing your throat as you rolled your eyes. He turned to face you now, dropping his towel in a swift motion, all his glory out for you to see. His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach as it bounced a few, throbbing as he took himself in his hands and pumped himself while walking towards you.
'You know all you have to do is ask baby, I'm all yours, yeah?' he said teasingly, grabbing he back of your head, harsh but not harsh enough to hurt you, to make you look up at his face instead of his dick that was now level with your eyes.
'Fuck off' you teased back, unable to hide your smile as you finally brought your hands up to wrap around him. He was pulsing, the thick vein at the side protruding deliciously s you stood up and pushed Lando to sit on the edge of the bed. 'Need to taste you, please' you begged, though you knew he was putty in your hands now.
All Lando could do was groan at the sight in front of him - you, naked, on your knees, tongue darting out to lick the sticky pre-cum off his tip. He jerked forward at that, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your hair out of your face as you finally took him in and sucked.
'Oh fuck me,' he panted, 'that mouth of yours' he mumbled breathlessly as your worked your way on him, bobbing your head up and down repeatedly while his hold on your hair tightened wit each passing second.
You squeezed your thighs together at the mere thought of what you were doing, half not believing you were sucking THE Lando Norris' dick, even though you'd done so about a thousand times by now.
'That's it baby, fuck, you're so good at this' he cooed, taking control of fucking himself in and out of your mouth as your moves started faltering, his hips jerking forward with each thrust, making you gag, tears at the corners of your eyes, and obscene noises filling up the otherwise quiet room.
You tugged and pulled at his balls, sucking as hard as you when you felt him get sloppier by the second, impending orgasm threatening to overcome him any minute now. When you pulled back for air, a string of your spit still had you connected to Lando, and he couldn't help but lean down to you for a dirty, messy kiss, both your tongues battling each others', before he pulled back and was quick to shove his dick back in your mouth.
'Shit I'm so close baby, where do you want it?' he asked, though he knew the answer, you were always ready to taste him, and so when you didn't reply, it wasn't even a few seconds until his whole body was shuddering, hips bucking forward as he spilled his seed down your throat, while you pulled back for air again as he sprayed your face white with his cum, both your chests heaving with the rush.
You sat there breathless, while Lando looked down at you, another sight for sore eyes with just how messed up you were, with his mess on you body, cum dropping down from your face onto your boobs and down your stomach.
He gently let his fingers spread his cum around your face, eventually bringing them to your mouth for you to take in, suckling softly and groaning at the taste of him once more.
He had a look on his face, one you knew all to well, one that only ended with trouble.
'I know that look Lan, what are you thinking?' you pressed, nervous for his answer because you knew whatever he'd say would make you clench your thighs together.
He smiled then, a full blown Lando Norris smile with all his teeth showing, your favourite smile, barely for a second though, because his gaze was quick to turn dark again as he traced his thumb across your bottom lip.
'Thinkin' about how I'm gonna win the race on Sunday..then fuck you with no condom on...need you feel you raw baby' he said, voice hoarse but so casual as it rolled off his tongue with such ease.
You stared up at him, mouth agape as your brain short circuited the second the words left his lips. 'What?' you whispered in shock.
He smiled again - 'You heard me. Need to feel you raw' he said, grabbing a few tissues off the bedside table and wiping your face, helping you up and back onto the bed.
Your mind was spiralling. This is a whole new ball game in your relationship and your body felt alive with butterflies squirming their way in your stomach, anticipation building up and the weekend hadn't even started.
No words left your mouth as Lando pushed you to lie back before straddling you, fiddling with a condom wrapper before rolling it onto his girth which was already hard again, and ramming int you, dirty words of his plan being whispered into your ear.
2 days later, and your man actually fucking won the Monaco Grand Prix.
Let's take it back a few - your relationship had basically been soft launched by the media wen you were caught with Lando's family all weekend. You wished it'd have come out on your own terms, but f1 media played no games, so the multiple views of you on tv had your name, 'Y/N, Lando Norris' Girlfriend' as your tag.
You watched on as Lando climbed out of his car, tens of people pushing their way past you in hopes of getting close to the driver as he hugged his mum and dad, and when his eyes locked with yours, he reached out for your hand, his thumb ever so gently rubbed circles while his god damn beautiful face sent you a wink and a kiss, sending you into a frenzy of tingles. Your heart clenched for a second as the look he'd just given you was reserved only for you, and now the whole world would see it.
Fast forward the podium , the team photo, the prince's ball, and partying at the club - you both stumbled back into his apartment, very tipsy, but not drunk enough because you both wanted to remember the whole evening and celebrations.
You tiptoed through the hallway as quietly as possible, not wanted to wake Adam and Cisca, though Lando was proving that to be impossible with the way his body was glued to yours, lips tracing every inch of your skin as he tickled your neck with stubble, all while leaving a trail of your clothes behind, though it was mostly his - yours was literally just your dress since you hadn't worn any underwear.
As soon as you reached his room, he slammed the door shut, pushed up up against it, and attacked your lips with his own. It was messy, hungry, tongues and teeth clashing as your hands gripped harshly at his hair. He swallowed your moans when his hands roamed down to your glistening cunt, fingers sliding through your folds, pinching at your swollen clit.
'Hmm, Lando, please. I need you.' yu mumbled when his lips moved down to your neck, biting down at your sweet spot as he plunged two fingers through your hole with no warning. You gasped as your back arched off the door, biting down on your bottom lip.
Whatever he was doing felt good, but not good enough, even when he added a third finger and repeatedly hit against your G-spot. You needed more, you needed his dick.
You found your voice again, between he whimpering and panting, grabbing rough at his hair again to make him look up at you.
'You said you-'
'I know what I said.' Lando cut you off. 'But I'm gonna make you cum at least twice before I so much as get near fucking you love' he said, voice raspy, then brining his mouth down to your peaked nipples.
You knew once he had his mind to something there was no going back, so you decided to let him use you how he pleased. His tongue rounded your left nipple, hot against you skin before he b it down harshly, eliciting a gasp from you as his fingered continued their torture on your cunt.
Lando soon added another finger, the stretch sore but welcomed as you felt yourself nearing you high, biting down on his shoulder, and all it took was one pinch of your clit before you were shuddering in his arms, body limb and cum gushing out of you uncontrollably, as he worked you through it, mumbling to himself something about how hot you were when you squirted like this.
He kissed you again, picking you up with his hands under your ass as you kissed him back, slow and deep, the opposite of the desperation there was a few minutes ago.
He placed you on the bed and you were quick to get on your knees, working on ripping his boxers off quickly to see him spring free, aching hard. You wrapped your hand around and started pumping when Lando quickly pushed you off him.
'Someone's eager' he said, sending you a wink before pushing you to lay flat. 'But I need to taste you first' he said, spreading your legs open with his sticky fingers, groaning at the state of you.
You still had cum messing your pussy, he was quick to lean down an lick a hot strip through your folds, tongue lapping at you harshly while you grabbed onto his hair, tugging at it as lewd moans left your mouth.
'Fuck baby, please, god yes, feels so good Lan' you managed to say between breaths, a heat already building up in your stomach as he started thrusting his tongue in and out of your hole. 'Gonna cum' you warned, not caring how quick were took to reach the high, goosebumps raising on your entire body as he ate you out like a starved man.
Lando nipped at your clit then, the sensation coursing through our body, sending your orgasm down with a thrill as you shook uncontrollably underneath him, his tongue not slowing one bit as he groaned at the sweet taste of you.
You looked down to see his mouth and chin dripping with spit and cum as he smiled sheepishly, leaning up to kiss you for the millionth time today.
'Please. I need you' you finally begged between nips and licks at his lips, not knowing how much longer you could wait without exploding with desperation for his cock.
Finally, he sat up on his knees, eyes shamelessly checking out your body.
'No condom yeah? he asked slowly, gaging your reaction as he spat down onto himself and pumped a few times.
You nodded your head, sure no words would leave your mouth.
'Gonna let me cum inside you?' he asked, testing the waters once more.
You nodded again.
'Words, baby. Need to hear you say it?' he pressed, his thumb softly rubbing circles on your inner thigh.
'Please, fuck me. God I need you an your cum Lando' you said breathlessly, anticipation really budling up.
That was all Lando needed to hear. He hovered over you again, balancing on his elbow as one hand cupped your face, while the other slid his dick through the folds a few times, gathering your slick, until he lined his dick up at your entrance.
His eyes were glued to yours as he slid inside of you when one, quick thrust, bottoming out immediately.
You both gasped at the same time, your back arching off the bed as your breaths mingled, foreheads against one another.
He felt so much bigger without the condom, the lack of barrier letting you feel his heat in such a tantalizing way as he stretched you out dumb.
Lando's breath faltered when he felt how tightly your walls clenched around him, cunt throbbing around his girth with a warmth he'd never expected to have felt. 'Y/N,' he paned, cold breath on your skin. 'So fuckin' tight.'
'Need a second' you said as he nodded in agreement, your body always needing a minute to adjust to his size, so he kissed you filthy again, tongue lapping against tongue until you started squirming underneath him, craving more friction.
'Gonna let me fuck you?' he asked, slowly sliding out and then ramming back into you with force again.
You let out another gasp followed by a pornographic moan when he repeated that action, his hands quickly coming up to cover your mouth.
'Have to be quiet unless you want everyone to hear me fuck you' he said, voice raspy, burying his head in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist as tightly as you could. At this point you didn't care if anyone heard you - all you could concentrate on was the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you.
You dragged your nails up and down his back, scratching at his skin, a sheet of sweat starting to cover both your bodies.
This new, raw connection between you both was a series of different motions. Lando's pace was quick, relentless, then all of a sudden he'd slow down to deep, sensual thrusts, before picking up pace again.
He was whispering dirty nothings into your ear as you continued moaning and gasping his name as his every word and movement.
'Fuck, hearing you say my name like that, drives me fucking insane'
'Could stay buried inside of you raw like this forever'
'Look at you, you love when I fuck you like this yeah?'
'Tight little cunt is all mine, my slut yeah??'
'Or better - such a whore after your boyfriend wins a race'
It was no surprise that your orgasm ripped through your body with no warning, crashing through you as your mind blanked out and you saw stars, dirty grunts filling up the room together with skin against skin slaps as Lando didn't slow his movements one bit.
Lando for one, knew he was a goner the second he felt your juices spewl all of his cock, and when he looked down to see the mess, he let out his own series of filthy moans.
'Baby fuck, look at the fucking mess you've made. Can cum just from looking at it' he groaned as you wrapped your legs tighter around him.
'Lan too much, I can't' you cooed, the stretch really starting in sting now.
He slowed his movements, but didn't stop, voice edgy as he spoke. 'You really want me to stop before you've let me cum in you? Huh? Before I've fucked a baby into you?'
Your chest heaved, choking on your spit as you took in his words, and suddenly your whole body was pumped with adrenaline. You didn't answer him verbally - no. Instead you mustered all the energy you could to push Lando off you to lay back, so you could straddle his hips, taking him dripping dick in your hands and lining him up with your cunt as you sank down on him in one hard thrust.
'Look at you, all eager for my cum' he teased, hands finding your hips and helping you set a vast, sloppy pace, while his eyes stuck to your bruised boobs, bouncing up and down as you rode him.
'Feel's so fucking good Lan' you whimpered, feeling his cock hit your G-spot over and over again, one hand on your own stomach as you felt his bulge everyone he thrust up into you.
With no warning, you came again, quivering above Lando as his movements were becoming sloppier, your moans getting so loud that he hand to bring a hand to cover your mouth again, before he pulled out and pushed you back again.
He stood at the end of the bed, pulling your body to the edge and spreading your legs further apart, before leaning down to spit directly on your cunt, and finally rammed into you, with intent this time, clearly chasing his own high, with his dirty words returning.
'Feel that baby? That's my cock, getting ready to cum inside you'
'Ready to fill you up yeah?'
'Not gonna stop until your dripping with me'
'Gonna lick my cum that's gonna drip out of your cunt'
Once again, his words threw you off. You could swear you've never cum so hard before, your body going like jelly, all you could hear was Lando's muffled voice, until a feeling unlike any other hit you at once.
His body was jerking forward into yours, cock twitching uncontrollably between your walls as he trembled above you, cum shooting out his tip and through your body, filling you up complete while pornographic grunts and moans left his mouth, swear words flying out like there was no tomorrow as he released all that he was holding in.
Lando's mind went blank as his muscles tensed, hands gripping your hips tighter while his own hips bucked forward, the raw moment causing him to make eye contact with you as he was sent over the edge, filling you up so perfectly while the things leaving his mouth were anything but.
Finally, he let his weight fall on top of you, both of you so out of breaths, bodies shivering at the cool air hitting your sweat-clad bodies, his face buried in your neck while your arms wrapped around him and pulled him close.
'Fuck' he panted, as his hips involuntarily spasmed forward again, cock with twitching against your walls as you slowly but surely felt him softening inside you.
'Lan...' you breathed, turning your head a bit to make him look up at you.
You both took in each others states - both fucked out, foreheads glistening with sweat and cheeks a deep red colour, breaths hot against one another.
'I know baby' he said, lips against yours, softest of kisses while your hands ran through his damp hair.
'You okay? Sorry if that was too much..' he said softly, bringing a hand up to your own face, thumb tracing your lips.
You couldn't help but chuckle at the stark contrast of what was happening a few minutes ago compared to now.
'I'm more than fucking okay. God, can we do this all the time? You really know how to fuck a girl' you said, almost whispering the last part.
He smiled. 'Just have a whore as my partner' he whispered back, before shutting his eyes when you gasped and smacked his shoulder playfully.
'I'm joking, I'm joking. I have the most amazing woman, who takes me so fucking well, is all' he said, leaning down to kiss you, hard.
Eventually after a dew minutes of slow, deep kissing, Lando pulled out, the both of you groaning at the loss of contact when he slipped his dick out.
He helped your wobbly body onto your feet, and you didn't miss how his eyes were glued to your pussy. You looked down at yourself, breath hitching when you saw how a mix of your fluids when slowing sleeking its way out your cunt and down your thighs, and in turn this made you look at Lando's dick, glistening.
'I-fuck.' you started but Lando was quick to cut you off with an 'Uh huh' while he lowered himself to the ground.
He let his fingers spread the cum on your thighs around, before every so gently leaning forward and licking a strip up your folds, making you hiss at his hot tongue on your most sensitive parts, scooping up as much of the sticky juice as he could, before he was standing tall again leaning down let it drip from his mouth into yours before he was kissing you sloppy again, making a mess of your face.
You moaned into his mouth - mind going at a thousand miles an hour - normally b y now you'd want to clean, freshly showered or at least wiped down, especially with just how nasty the pair of you had been tonight - but at the same time - the smell of sex in the room, the sensation of Lando literally dripping out of you - you wanted to stay like this for as long as possible.
Lando must have felt the same because he didn't guide you to the bathroom, instead brining you to lie down next to him, cuddling you as close as possible as he turned the bedside lamp off. And his last words of the night already had your core tingling in want for him.
'Rest up baby, gonna take you raw in the morning again.' he whispered, before leaving a kiss on your cheek and pulling you closer when he heard your gasp and felt a shiver run up your body.
Mclaren are disgusting. Their treatment of a driver who has literally been withe them since he was 17. Who stuck with them, who grafted for them, who was loyal, who was kind, who was the driver some teams wish for...
It's not just their lack of morals and lack of shame but they still expect him to be good to them. He gives and he gives and they take and take and that's how they like it. That's where they want him.
They don't want him to race they don't want him to win (see their reaction in Australia - or lack of from Stella as he didn't even bother to turn up - and the sprint race in Miami). They have already rigged the championship: they have built the car around Oscar (even thought it actually makes the Mclaren's performance worse and more unstable), they praise Oscar and contiunally contribute to the (entirely false) PR ploy by him and his Personal team rooted in ableism and toxic masculinity - that completely undermines their other driver who has spent his whole career speaking out about and advocating for MH struggles. They then completely ignore the abhorrent and frankly disgusting abuse/threats that that driver gets from fans/media and actually contribute to this by either not responding,blocking the fans that are trying to get justice or respond in favour to the perpetrator (see Alan Jones). Not helped by the PRstri effect where seemingly all commentators and journalist are under Oscar's spell (or paycheck).
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we talked a lot about the red bull workplace environment. what about the mclaren workplace environment. what about the shit they say and do about and to lando? what about the way they treat lando like absolute trash on race weekends even after he's spent years with them? what about andrea stella only showing up for piastri's wins? what about zak brown thanking the brake failure lando had in china? what about it.
a little something for the people who believe that lando fans want mclaren to handover the championship to lando because he's been with the team for so many years.
we don't want that. more importantly, lando doesn't want that.
what we want is basic respect from the team. what we want is will joseph giving the correct and relevant information to lando during a race. what we want is the race strategists to not fuck up one's race for the other's. what we want is the pr team to do something about the hate comments he gets. what we want is that his team don't leave tools in his car. what we want is for their ceo to not go on television and say "i said to andrea that it might not be the worst thing because it saves us from issuing team orders" [about brakes failing in china]. what we want is that the team principal who said that he will only be attending the podium show if there's a driver at the top step to tell us why he didn't attend the australia podium. what we want is that the team celebrate his wins as much as they celebrate the other driver's wins.
we're not saying that because lando gave so much to the team, they should only be prioritising him. what we're saying is that because lando gave so much to the team, they should be treating him like an integral part of the team, treating him like an equal.
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
jbbartram-illu
vaporwave
kianamaiart
