☆ lia's birthday calendar
day 21: mum x lando (exwife!reader) (ln4)
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☆ warnings: unprotected p in v, lando is down bad, so is reader, a lot of tension, praise kink, coparenting, domestic, jealousy, breeding kink, possessiveness, body worship ⋆ inspo: (x) (x) (x) (x)
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weeks pass after the first time.
too many weeks.
the weeks turned into enough time for the shock to fade. for the ache to settle deeper. enough time for you to convince yourself that it was a mistake. almost a relapse. not a secret, or a fantasy. just a memory. a slight crack in the foundation you both rebuilt as coparents.
you haven’t talked about it. neither of you are really brave enough to name it.
you learn the rhythm again. drop offs, pick ups. dentist appointments, school concerts. shared calendars, neutral texts. enough space. enough distance. functional and polite. careful, once again.
and yet, lando is in your kitchen again.
“i thought i told you the party is running late.” you say.
“yeah, i know.” he shrugs, awkward. “read your texts. just didn’t want her waiting when she arrives.”
you nod. of course he didn’t.
your daughter had a party with her cousins. her aunt is dropping her off, and they're running late. it's lando's weekend with her. so lando is here. waiting.
"i don't know what time she'll be here yet."
"that's fine. i'll wait." he says immediately. too quick. too eager.
lando leans against the kitchen counter. all casual and comfortable. as if the house still belongs to him. his hair is messy, like he rushed to get here. his sleeves are pushed up, forearms all veiny and strong.
you try not to glance.
he tosses his keys in the usual bowl. all muscle memory for him. the house smells warm and vaguely sweet. just like you. he notices. he always does. that’s the problem.
you unzip your daughter's backpack. your movements are almost automatic, efficient. methodical in the way motherhood has taught you.
he watches.
“spare jumper...” you murmur. “snack pouch… wipes…”
“i have all this at home,” lando says, still watching.
you smile faintly without looking at him. he may have not been the best husband at times. but he's always a good dad. a present dad.
“extra.”
your smile makes him smile. it shouldn’t mean anything. but it does.
“you don’t have to pack everything.” he says.
“i do,” you reply, already checking the pockets. “she likes having her own things. calls them the emergency stuff.”
“yeah i know. i wonder where she gets that from.” he murmurs. cheeky. almost flirty.
you pause. then continue.
you narrate quietly as you go, more for yourself than him. hair ties. water bottle. the notebook with the unicorn sticker she insists on bringing everywhere. he keeps watching you. his arms folded.
something tight is building behind his ribs. he feels warm. tense.
you walk to the cupboard without thinking. he knows what you’re reaching for before you even do. you reach up, toes lifting slightly off the floor. you pull down a pack of kinder bars. you take two bars and slide them into your daughter's backpack.
the fucking kinder bars.
you used to do that for him.
on race weekends. long travel days. bad weeks. you would tuck one into his bag like a little secret. slip another in his hoodie pocket. all done with a huge grin on your face, telling him that it's for emergencies. that quiet, domestic affection.
the little action hits him low. sharp. so deep, almost humiliating.
you sense the silence. something heavy is in the air, but it's not awkwardness. no. it's tension.
"one's never enough. she gets sad if she finishes it too quickly." you mutter quietly.
his chest does something stupid and painful. your words land wrong. or too fucking right.
that's exactly what you used to do for him.
he exhales a laugh that sounds like it was punched out of him. low and wrecked. tight.
you turn towards him. "what?”
he shakes his head. presses his tongue to his teeth as if he's trying to stop himself from saying the wrong thing.
“uh, nothing. it's just...you always did that." he exhales. "you still do that.”
your expression shifts. cautious, but softer. "do what?"
"the kinder thing."
“she’s our kid, lan.”
“i know, i know. i just meant...” he trails off. “you used to do it for me too.”
your shoulders stiffen. the silence stretches. heavy but familiar. intimate in the most fucked way.
“that doesn’t mean anything.” you say. sharper than you intend.
defensive. too defensive for your own good.
“it does to me.” he replies, just as sharp. then softer. “...apparently.”
you zip your daughter's backpack harder than necessary.
“i can drop her off myself to your place. you don't have to wait here.” you say.
“i'm here. i can wait.”
you look at him. “you don’t have to.”
“i want to.”
that's the problem.
you move around each other in the kitchen. close enough to brush sleeves, to feel his body heat. you put the kettle on for some tea. you glance at him again. he's already looking at you. he looks warm. familiar. safe.
“you seem… good.” he says. very carefully.
you hum. “thanks.”
you pour hot water into your mugs. he still has his mug here.
“can i say something stupid?” he asks.
that earns him another smile. your pretty fucking smile. he misses it. “you always say something stupid, lan.”
he smiles back. fond yet dangerous. “being a mum really fucking suits you. always did.”
you freeze.
“you can't just say that.” heat curls low in your stomach.
“sorry. i didn’t mean to like- i'm bad at this. at pretending i don't feel things.”
he reaches out for his mug. his fingers brush yours.
you cross your arms. defensive. "you don’t get to say shit like that anymore.”
he nods. jaw tight. “okay. doesn’t mean they stopped being true.”
the air thickens. there's a pause. you're both sipping on your tea.
“have you-" he stops. swallows. “have you been seeing anyone?”
he's vulnerable. soft in the way that makes your chest feel heavy.
you snap your head up. “we've been over this, lan. it's not your business.”
“i know. still wanted to ask.”
your jaw tightens. “why?”
he hesitates. his gaze meets yours. “i don’t like the idea of someone else touching you.”
your breath catches. “that’s unfair.”
“so was you asking me to wait here.” he says quietly.
you scoff. “i didn’t ask.”
“you didn’t stop me. you made me tea.”
that hits. he sees right through you.
you turn away. “we said it was a mistake. that last time was a mistake.”
“no. i said it was a mistake. because i'm fucking stupid. because you just went quiet and i didn't know what to say.” he corrects.
you don’t answer.
he steps closer. not touching yet. “do you regret it?”
your throat tightens. “you said it was a mistake.”
he cups your jaw. tilts your head up so you're looking at him. god, he's so pretty. messy curls, gorgeous eyes. he looks like home. you hate it.
"yeah. i also said i still love you."
lando's words hang between you. honest. impossible to take back. his thumb is tracing your jaw. his eyes scanning your face for any regret. he can't find any.
“we’re divorced.” you remind him. a desperate attempt at pushing all the feelings away. all the warmth away.
he leans towards you. your lips brush together. not kissing. not yet. just close. very fucking close.
“and yet, you still pack my kid’s bag like you packed mine.”
"..our kid, lan."
"exactly. mine and yours. together." he mumbles.
his eyes trail down your neck. your chest. his hands brush over the curve of your stomach. his hands rest on your stretchmarks through simple pure instinct. he exhales softly.
"this is not fair... you standing here. looking like that. doing all this shit. you know exactly how to ruin me. how to fuck with me." he sounds desperate. almost pleading.
you laugh. breathless, a little hysterical. “you’re fucking ridiculous, lan.”
"ridiculous? no baby. i just know what i want. do you?”
fuck.
your lips crash into each other. the kiss feels inevitable. cautious and slow. both of you pretending there is still time to erase this. to pretend it's not happening. but you don't want that. you want him. he wants you. it's messy. familiar mouths remembering each other all too much. his fingers dig into your waist. your fist clutches his shirt.
you break the kiss first, breathless. both giggling like two teenagers caught doing something stupid. that quiet laughter. almost disbelief.
he leans his forehead against yours. "tell me to leave, come on."
you don't respond. instead, you kiss him again. it escalates without intention. slight giggles slipping between breaths. hands roaming like they're checking what is allowed again.
“this is so wrong. this is such a bad idea.” you murmur.
“god, i missed you. fuck. i really did.” he mumbles.
his mouth is leaving small marks on your neck. he's fucking marking you. claiming you. making you all his again. he's not letting you go so easily this time round. you let him. he is pressed against you. hot and heavy. fingers still tight on your waist. his mouth nibbling your neck. you feel the heat pooling low between your thighs. your breath hitches. your fingers dig into his hoodie.
“fuck, i couldn't stop thinking about last time,” he mumbles. “i...jacked off to it. thinking about you. about us. about how good you always feel wrapped around me.”
holy shit.
that's all it takes. his raw honesty. the way he unashamedly wants you so fucking badly. it's almost cruel. your eyes lock with his. your cunt clenches around nothing. his words all raw and unguarded. you're wet. your core is aching to feel him. you want all of him.
“lan…” you breathe, voice trembling.
his hands slide lower, cupping your hips. his thumbs brush over your stretchmarks. so warm and familiar. so right.
“you want this, don’t you? you want me inside you again. filling you up.”
“fuck... lan.” you gasp with slight embarrassment. your cheeks are pink.
he groans. it's all desperation and need. his lips brushing down from your jaw to your shoulder. he cages you against the wall and grabs your hand. he squeezes it softly. it feels natural. safe. you follow his lead without thinking.
you're walking to the bedroom. you walk behind him, your hand still held in his. he reaches for you. you lean into him. it's certain. unavoidable.
your clothes comes off first. quickly, as if they were in lando's way. his fingers linger at your ribs. at your hips. his eyes roam from your tits to your stretchmarks. you tug at his hoodie, growing impatient. he undresses himself. buttons undone, breath hitching as your hands rest on each other's bare skin.
he nudges you towards the bed. the mattress dips with your weight together. his forehead rests against yours. just a small quiet moment. there's tension, restraint. effort in not falling apart right there and then.
"you know, you can still tell me to stop." he mumbles.
you don't answer. instead, you straddle him. hands braced onto his chest.
he swears under his breath. your knees are pressed into the mattress. his hands rest at your thighs. holding you. you giggle quietly, nerves buzzing. you rock your hips slowly. testing. just enough to drag along the length of his hard cock. you're wet. you're gliding against his cock. you lean forward to press light kisses onto his neck
"lan..."
"i know, baby. i've got you. same as always."
god, he's so hot. just always knows what to say.
you lower yourself onto his cock. sink onto him slowly. inch by inch. letting him fill you. letting his cock split you open. he lets out a soft and ruined sound. his hands grip your thighs tighter. he's guiding you. so natural and familiar. your body wants him. you missed him. the stretch is too fucking good.
"oh fuck. that's it. just like that. fucking ride me, baby. please." his head is falling back.
he is too lost in the pleasure. in feeling just how right your cunt wraps around his cock. how his cockhead teases your sweet spot. you sit fully onto him, the stretch making you breathe heavier. you roll your hips. finding that familiar rhythm again. taking what you want. what you need. he looks at you. properly. his eyes wide and blown. there's that sense of ownership. possessiveness towards you. he watches you all full of his cock. tits bouncing prettily. soft little breaths escaping you.
“you know,” he murmurs, teeth grazing your jaw. “this… this is how we made her. you remember, yeah?”
you let out a whine. his words hit you low and deep.
it's almost unbearable. your body reacts before your brain can even process the meaning of his words. the intimacy of it all is insane. your hands dig into his chest. nails grazing his skin. you're bouncing desperately on his thick cock. grinding back and forth. feeling him stretch inside you. feeling his little trail of pubic hair brush against your clit with each motion. it all sends tingles all over your body. little gasps escape his throat with each bounce, low and desperate. his thumbs rub over your hips, over your stretchmarks. he holds you. long, thick fingers brushing along the soft curves of your stomach.
his little gasps turn into whimpers. shameless whimpers.
“fuck...yes, baby. ride me. just like that. god, you feel fucking amazing. so fucking good for me.” he breathes. voice ragged, still holding your hips steady.
you nod and keep bouncing on his cock. too fucked to attempt to string words together. his cock is hitting your sweet spot each time. stretching you around his heavy length. that nice familiar stretch as you drag up and down his cock. you missed him. your cunt missed him.
"you're mine. all mine. no one else... no one gets this. you hear me?"
your cunt squeezes his cock.
"fuck fuck fuck, lan. no one else. not a single person."
your heart is hammering, chest all tight. that heat from your core is spreading all over. it's consuming every single rational thought you once had. he's fucking the thoughts out of you. no more worries, no more overthinking. just him. him and his cock ruining your insides. holding you. taking all of you. getting you back.
“that's a good girl. my good girl.”
fuck, you missed his praise. being all his. he's leaning back slightly. pretty eyes looking up at you through his lashes. mouth slightly parted. his hands are still on your hips. but he's taking more control now. he's fucking up into you. his cock is drilling into you. splitting you. making you fall apart on his cock. you're a trembling mess.
“i want you. only you. wanna feel you like this everyday again... shit- i want to breed you again.”
fuck.
you ride him faster. grinding. hips rolling. following his lead and matching the rhythm he’s guiding. it's what you know best. following him, letting him take care of you. his eyes are fixed on you, dark and desperate. pupils blown so wide. your cunt keeps clenching around his cock. his little moans. the sounds of his cock fucking your wet cunt. all so obscene. so fucking good.
“you feel so fucking good. don't stop, please don't fucking stop. it's like you were made for this shit. made for me." he pants.
you moan into his chest you sweat mixing, hair all messy. your hands clutching him, nails grazing the skin of his chest. he's whimpering all pretty under you. low boyish whimpers. his cock filling you just how you need to be filled. how you deserve to be filled.
“lan... please, i'm close.” you gasp, almost sobbing from how full and raw it all is.
“i know baby, i know. just like old times- fuck. exactly how we made her. feels so fucking right, doesn't it?” his voice urgent.
his fingers are digging into your hips. he's bouncing you up and down his cock. using you for both his and your pleasure. you cry out. arching your back, pressing your tits closer to him. he latches onto them, soft mouth sucking gently. you clench around him. his moans vibrate into you. low and desperate. he's guiding you through it, holding you steady. your body trembles, his cockhead brushing against your needy spongey spot. lando rubs little circles against your clit. you're so full. so fucked. tingles run down your back as your cunt tightens around his thick cock. you're cumming on his cock. but still bouncing. he's still fucking you.
"fuck, you still feel too fucking good." he's whining. whimpering underneath you.
and just when your breathing evens, he shifts. he pulls you off of his cock, his big hands pushing you down on the bed. so dominant. possessive. he's stroking himself.
"that's it baby, always so fucking pretty for me. all mine." his voice rough, desperate.
he's close. eyes locked with yours as he jacks himself off. his other hand reaches out to rub your clit. so needy, so messy. you push his hand away, too overstimulated for more. but he holds your knees open. wants you spread. wants to see you soaked and dripping. wants the prettiest view before he cums for you. before he covers you with his cum.
"you want my cum? want me to own your pretty little body? fuck fuck fuck, you're so pretty-"
and he does. it's frantic. with a low deep sound escaping his lips. a mix of relief and pleasure. his release is hot, thick. feels warm, just right. it's all across your stretchmarks again. lando is marking you, claiming you all over again. his breathing is ragged. his skin is flushed, so pretty and red.
he collapses near you. satisfied. lips brushing yours. you hug him, tired and sweaty. soaked with his mess. you press yourself closer to him. lando hugs you tighter. you don't talk much. you don't need to. after a while, he speaks up. mumbles very quietly.
"you know i meant it right? that i still love you."
you smile softly. you believe him.
your phone buzzes. your daughter is on the way. the timing is brutal.
you groan. he chuckles.
“we’re terrible at this coparents thing.” you say.
“maybe we can just be parents, then.” he mutters, kissing your temple.
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© liafics
thank you for all the love for the exwife fic! hope you like pt 2!
the yearning the filth ugh i need to ride him and let him breed me
