#like yes call them out Max | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

biillys · 13 days ago

Text

yo merry christmas i'm thinking about christmas at the hargrove-mayfield's house throughout the years

wanna think about their first christmas together as a family, maybe before neil and susan even got married, or maybe just after. wanna think about what susan got billy for that first december 25th that they knew each other and what neil bought for max. did neil just pass that duty off to susan and stick his name on the from: section of the gift tag or did he put effort in and actually go to the shops and try and find something, specifically for his new step-daughter.

wanna think about the following few christmas' in california where billy never heard from his mom, never even got a fucking christmas card, but max heard from her dad; spending the time between christmas breakfast and christmas lunch on the phone, thanking him for the present he sent in the mail. wanna think about susan listening in, hearing her ex sounding distant and barely focused, agreeing with everything their daughter says, and biting her tongue; half relieved max hasn't picked up on the fact that sam's handwriting and her own is exactly the same, and half mad that sam's willing to take the credit without even blinking.

wanna think about their last christmas in california where they don't even realise it's their last one there; billy hitting his stride in being the worlds moodiest and most hard done by teenager, max following quick in his footsteps. wanna think about how all the gifts hand-picked by susan would be too lame and embarrassing to be thankful for, both kids screwing their nose up at most presents. maybe billy and max exchanging small gifts that christmas becos they haven't been at each others throats all year, only some, and susan thought it would be nice.

wanna think about their first christmas in hawkins, with things still so messy and uncomfortable and rough, but somehow settling into it like it's their new normal. wanna think about it being cold as fuck, none of them prepared for hawkins winters, and everyone walking on eggshells around each other and pretending it's fine. wanna think about max growing up and officially moving into her teenage years and billy counting down the days until he leaves them, adulthood so close yet still so fucking far. wanna think about them all sitting down for christmas dinner and billy barely being acknowledged, things still so tense even though it's been almost two months since everything went to shit, and max forcing out answers every time susan tries to keep the conversation flowing, her doing her best to carry the christmas spirit.

wanna think about a world where there's no living nightmares, no government conspiracies, and no death, but billy still spirals out of control anyway, feeling trapped and cornered in an unfamiliar town with unfamiliar people, his only solution to lash out and fight, anger and violence and distrust being all he knows. wanna think about max coming to the realisation that there's bigger monsters than her asshole step-brother, that maybe billy isn't the start of everyone's problems, just always somehow the end of them. want her to trace the line back to the source and realise neither of them ever stood a fucking chance.

wanna think about a christmas where billy's eighteen and max is fifteen, and they still live on cherry lane, and neil still fucking sucks, and susan still fucking tries, and everything's still awkward, the four of them never quite becoming the family unit their parents try to pretend them to be, but maybe billy and max get along these days, in a way they never could when they were younger, them going from being against each other to realising it's team up or be picked apart.

max gives him a present she saved up for for months, maybe as they're all going to bed, and billy raises an eyebrow at her before sighing and unwrapping it, still too fucking stubborn to be able to say thank you, but somehow brave enough to reach a hand into his room and grab out a present he got for her, and it's unwrapped cos he hasn't wrapped a present since his mom left, so max does her little sister duty and tells him she loves the wrapping and effort he put into it, before actually looking at what he got her, and he walks into his room and closes the door before she can even acknowledge it for the gift it is.

wanna think about billy eventually moving out, but not making it far; too fucking broke to live out his dreams of going home. wanna think about neil clapping him on the back on moving day and telling him he's done good, that this is what growing up is. graduating school, getting a job, moving out, providing for yourself. that's what makes a man. that it was rough there for a while, and he was worried, but he's glad to see his son's shaped up and straightened out finally, thanks to his solid parenting. wanna think about billy having no idea how to react, thinking that's the closest he'll ever get to his dad saying he's proud of him. wanna think about max helping him move and helping him chose a couch, claiming it has to be comfortable enough to sleep on when she crashes there on school breaks. want billy to tell her to get fucked, but buy the couch she picked out anyway.

wanna think about his first christmas out of home, and how how he probably feels indifferent about it at best, and pain about it at worst. christmas was never like the movies growing up, no matter how much susan tried, so it's not like being alone and having no decorations or presents is going to hurt, but he has enough memories of his mum, and a few moments over the years from when max and susan tried, and there's such a build up and fucking atmosphere about it all in hawkins that he can't escape it even if he tried, and he's starting to realise maybe he's really fucking lonely.

wanna think about neil calling him up and billy answering, cos now that they don't live in the same house and billy's finally taking responsibility for his own life, neil's like a whole new person. he wants to do father-son shit like talk about cars, offer advice about fixing the kitchen sink, tell him when to hire someone to fix something and when you should be able to fix something yourself, wants to watch sports games and crack open a beer on a saturday afternoon, and billy makes up reasons to say no most of the time, but sometimes he caves and says yes, cos there's a small part of him that's always wanted this. wanna think about neil calling and asking billy when he's coming over for christmas, saying that susan's cooking his favourite. wanna think about billy not even knowing what his favourite is, but saying he'll be at breakfast by 7:30am before he can stop himself.

wanna think about billy staying 'til afternoon and max raising an eyebrow at him, muttering don't you have a home to go to? while they clean up after lunch, but then neil offers him a beer, so he ignores her, and listens when his dad says he's welcome to stay for dinner, too. wanna think about billy and max smoking a joint out the back while their parents end the day with a christmas movie, and max turns to him and asks him what neil's deal is these days, and billy shrugs her off, too stubborn to look at it all too closely.

wanna think about billy pulling some money out of his wallet cos he has some now, and he didn't have time to get a present, too busy working overtime, but he has cash, so that'll do. wanna think about max handing him a new zippo, then somehow unearthing a whole-ass wrapped present, and when he opens it, it's a set of cheap fake glass cups, becos billy doesn't have any yet and every time she comes over she has to drink something either directly from the bottle in the fridge or remember her own drink bottle, and it's a housewarming gift, asshole, and this isn't my house, billy thinks, this isn't my fucking home, but it's also all he's got, so he finds a place for them in the cupboard above the sink, and max hunts them down the next time she's over first thing.

wanna think about christmas' in their future, when max moves out, when they're in their 20's and 30's, maybe billy keeps coming home, finding an uneasy peace with his dad reserved for special occasions only, the only few times of the year he's willing to lie to himself and pretend things were never as bad as his memories made them out to be, or maybe everything eventually crumbles, and billy finally gets to put some real distance between them, and finally then, he can breathe and stop pretending.

maybe max continues going, her seeing her mom try and so she puts in the effort to try as well, and maybe that works for a while, maybe even a lifetime, but maybe it doesn't, and by the time both her and billy are closer to 30 than 20, the only family they see on christmas is each other, and billy never wraps her presents, and max only gets him practical things, and they drink and bitch most of the time, but it's so much easier to exist in each others space when they don't have to act and pretend and play parts.

#anyway the idea of billy attending christmas day at cherry lane for those first few years and telling himself it's sooo fine #it's completely normal thing to do after a completely normal childhood where nothing ever went wrong ever #and for max to go along with it becos over her dead body is she gonna suffer through christmas day alone even though she thinks its Crazy #how billy and neil could go from the trainwreck they were to whatever illusion neil's trying to create now #but then like. the idea of billy getting a significant other; a Male significant other; and having to like. Face Facts #make up excuses to not go home from christmas anymore; but be too scared to tell his dad the real reason why #until his partner is like. I Know Your Childhood Was Bad But Jesus Christ. You're 25 Dude #wait also the idea of max Knowing and being like. Yeah He's Always Been This Stupid. Yeah It's Probably Genetic. Good Luck.#god the idea of billy finally telling his dad why he's not coming and neil hanging up on him. not msging him for his birthday #and billy getting the hint loud and clear. except maybe susan works some christmas magic and maybe neil's had a health scare or two #and maybe max says she's only coming home for christmas if billy is #so maybe neil calls billy up and says him and his Boyfriend are welcome home for christmas this year.#and it sounds like he's eating the sourest lemon in the entire world. but he's asking. and billy's like. this is gonna be terrible. we Can'#but somehow ends up saying yes. becos he's stupid.#and then neil and susan are sitting down for christmas dinner with billy and Boyfriend and Max and #okay listen. the elmax in me wants them so bad but also the lumax in me wants THEM so bad.#actually either way i can't lose neil would be frothing at the mouth either way #and max would be LOVED and CHERISHED either way #worlds most awkward and intense christmas dinner.#also u may be thinking. now melia. dont they have other family. cousins? grandparents? aunts and uncles? and you'd be right!#but i'm too lazy to go into that rn. the idea of neil cutting his family out and susan barely being on speaking terms with hers #ANYWAY the idea of christmas evolving over time from being something that they barely tolerated with each other #to being something that they only include each other in. no more parents and maybe significant others come and go but no matter what #it's them against the world

3 notes · View notes

nottsangel · 3 months ago

Text

shared spaces — t.n. & m.r. & l.b.

pairing: fem!reader x theo nott x mattheo riddle x enzo berkshire. new girl au — in which you live together.

warnings: smut 18+, foursome, threeway kiss, oral sex (m. receiving), double penetration (unprotected vaginal and anal sex), fingering, bad italian probably (sorry!), creampie, praise, choking

word count: 4.6k

summary: a night of drinking with your roommates takes an unexpected turn when innocent teasing escalates into a foursome you’ll never forget.

moodboard. nav. more content.

Roommates. That’s all you, Theodore, Mattheo and Lorenzo were. Not friends, fuck no. Just… roommates. Nothing more, nothing less. Roommates you could kill with your bare hands at times, that is— especially when you were lying in bed late at night, headphones turned up to max volume, while all three boys were busy slamming their cock into whatever random girl was foolish enough to go home with them that day. Or when you came back to the cramped apartment, swung open the freezer, and discovered that they’ve eaten all the ice cream you’d been looking forward to eating all day.

Oh, how you desperately wished you were living somewhere else in those moments— anywhere, really. But unfortunately, you didn’t have a choice. You urgently needed a place after breaking up with your cheating ex-boyfriend, and this was the best you could find at that time.

But it was fine. Not great, but fine. You lived your own life, and so did they. You didn’t talk to them much—only when necessary—and avoided them as much as you could. It might sound unfriendly and hostile, you were fully aware of that, but they were too busy bragging to each other about the girls they hooked up with anyway, and you had no desire to be part of that conversation. And it was whatever. You were content like this, minding your own business. And you were planning to continue living exactly like this until you found a better place to live… But was that still what you really wanted?

After a few chaotic months of living together, everything began to change dramatically. As much as you despised these same boys not too long ago—well, you still very much do—the dynamics between the three of you had completely shifted. You weren’t just roommates anymore, no, you were… a little more than that.

What exactly, you might ask? Well, Lorenzo liked to call it RWB (roommates with benefits), which resulted in a slap to the head each time he brought it up. You flat-out refused to ever call it that. And besides, whatever the hell it was, you didn’t even want to label it.

Anyway, to cut straight to the point without beating around the bush any longer— you were having sex with your roommates. Yes, each one of them. All fucking three. The three boys that you used to fight with over the most minuscule things you could possibly think of, are now the same boys pinning you down onto your mattress until you’re drooling all over the sheets ‘cause of how good they were fucking you. It all strangely unfolded so naturally and so gradually, as if the lines between friendship and desire were slowly fading away without anyone noticing. Still, it felt wrong, it felt dirty, but god, it felt so fucking good too.

To go back to the beginning and provide some much-needed context, it all started with them sharing you, actually. But not at the same time— no, that felt far too weird and awkward. Instead, they took turns sleeping with you separately, with each one of them fucking you whenever the mood struck, which happened a lot. Just casually brushing past them in the kitchen and feeling your ass press against their crotch was enough to drag you into their rooms. And it was fucking amazing— each one of them had their own unique qualities, fucking you in ways the others couldn’t.

Theo, for instance, was great at dirty talk and foreplay. He’d shamelessly whisper filthy words to you in Italian with that low, seductive voice of his as his fingers were buried deep inside of you, curling up so perfectly— he never failed to get you dripping wet in an instant.

Mattheo was a fucking god at eating you out— he could make you cum within seconds, the way his tongue skilfully sucked on your clit had you gripping his brown locks tightly.

And Lorenzo? He could put you into positions you never knew were possible, hitting spots so incredibly deep inside of you that your legs trembled uncontrollably each time you found yourself in his bed.

But still, it had its downsides. Fucking each one of them individually meant a lot of sex and left you sore and limping around, which eventually began to exhaust you, pushing you past your limits physically. It was simply too much for you to handle. All three of their sex drives were sky-high, and you, being just one girl in a house with three boys, just couldn’t fulfil their needs all the time.

So that’s when threesomes began to happen. And ohhh, a new world opened up to you. It was exhilarating, it was experimental, it was even better than the sex before, and with all the attention on you, you couldn’t get enough. So far, you’ve explored every possible threesome combination, and their skills combined were absolutely mind-blowing. You were hornier than ever—more needy, more aroused—and so were they.

But was that really the limit? threesomes? well, you thought it was— until tonight happened. It was just another drunken night with the boys, gathered in the cosy living room, playing whatever random board games you had dug out from the back of your closet, stacked away and long forgotten since you moved in.

The evening began so innocently, filled with laughter and lighthearted chatter as you drank some leftover alcohol from a party the week prior— until you unconsciously started inching closer to them, the chilly night breeze sneaking through the windows causing you to seek more warmth. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, though. You always became touchy and clingy whenever you were drunk— everyone knew that.

But with them being intoxicated as well, they found it increasingly difficult to control themselves around you, eyeing you with hungry, lustful gazes, especially as your lace bra temptingly peeked out from under your tight-fitting top and your short skirt inched higher with every movement you made.

Usually, after one of these nights, you’d end up going to bed with one of them—maybe two if the night called for it—but there was always one of them who was too tired or had some other girl come over anyway. Tonight was undeniably different, though, and you could feel it— they all wanted you.

Lorenzo and Mattheo sat on either side of you, with Lorenzo’s wandering hand slowly trailing over your bare, goosebumps-covered thigh, sending shivers cursing through your body, while Mattheo’s hand rested around your waist under your shirt, rubbing gentle circles on your soft skin with his thumb. Their warm hands felt nice on your cold body, but you couldn’t deny the ache building between your legs at both their irresistible touches.

The scent of their musky, aromatic colognes mingled with the smell of all kinds of alcohol, filling your nostrils, as their warm bodies pressed closely against yours, causing a small, amused smile to form on your lips at the sudden realisation that there was more than enough room on the couch for both of them. But no, they wanted to sit as close as possible to you, eagerly craving the feeling of your skin against theirs, even though a barrier of fabric still separated you from them. You didn’t have to read their minds to know how badly they wanted to rip it off your body.

Meanwhile, Theo sat across from you, watching the scene before him unfold with a cocky, lopsided smirk and dark eyes, fully aware that both drunken enzo and mattheo lacked any ounce of self-control strong enough to resist you, so he lazily let them do all the work of getting you aroused and horny before joining. Occasionally, he took a slow sip from his drink, but his intense gaze never left yours, absorbing the way you reacted to their touches and he knew— under your tiny skirt, your panties were soaked already.

And god, he was right. Just the slightest, teasing touch had you dripping wet already, as their firm hands continued to roam over your body, growing more hungrily and desperately with each passing second, both of them breathing heavily on either side of you.

For a fleeting moment, you lock eyes with Theo through your drowsy gaze, his own intense eyes fixated on you as your roommates explored your body, only making you more desperate and turned on.

“Sei così calda.” Theo murmured in a low, husky voice, his eyes glued to your body, eliciting an irritated groan from Mattheo as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Oh, shut up mate, no one can understand you.” he retorted, frustration lacing his tone. Theo simply chuckled in response, completely unfazed by him, fully aware of the underlying reasons for his annoyance. Mattheo hated it whenever Theo spoke Italian because he knew it gave him an undeniable advantage with girls, who swooned all over Theo the moment seductive Italian words flowed from his lips.

“Be nice, Matt” you warned, trying to appear stern but the alcohol cursing through your system made you uncontrollably let out a small giggle, causing Mattheo’s expression to soften too.

“I am nice. Is having my hands all over your body not me being nice, princess?” he teased with a cheeky smirk, his hand trailing down your bare back under your shirt toward your ass as his eyes hungrily gazed right at you through half-lidded eyes, a combination of lust and intoxication evident in their depths, his warm body merely inches away from yours. Your hazy, drunken state, their warm hands gliding all over your chilled skin, theo’s piercing eyes staring right at you— your head felt like it was spinning.

Suddenly, as if reading each other’s minds, both boys gently yet eagerly brushed your hair from your neck to expose it, then attached their soft lips to the sensitive skin at the same time, sloppily sucking dark hickeys into your neck from both angles. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan, helplessly pressing your thighs together to create some friction as Mattheo and Lorenzo breathed heavily right into your ear, sending electric shivers down your spine.

They were both becoming more and more desperate, frantically sucking on your skin, the alcohol coursing through their bodies and intense desire to have you blurring their minds and causing them to lose all inhibitions. Mattheo groaned in pleasure, taking a not-so-subtle sniff as licked your neck like a popsicle, leaving a slick trail of saliva in his wake. He felt lightheaded, completely entranced by your sweet scent and the softness of your skin, his hand greedily squeezing your waist.

“Mmm, I can, like, taste your perfume… so sweet and… a bit… alcoholic, like a— like a pornstar martini.”

“What the—” Lorenzo instantly pulled away from your neck, glaring at Mattheo with a disgusted look on his face, his top lip curling in distaste and his brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Mattheo, shut the fuck up, will you?”

“What did I do now?!”

“You’re ruining the mood, saying weird shit like that.”

“Oh, fuck off—”

Before they could bicker any further, you abruptly grasped both their jaws at the same time and gently guided their heads towards yours into a sudden kiss, your soft lips pressing against theirs as their eyes reluctantly fluttered shut.

You could tell they were hesitant at first, both of them unwilling to touch each other in any way, but the drinks they had earlier were working its magic as you quickly felt their tongues eagerly moving against yours, their hesitation disappearing in a split second.

Soon, all three of you were completely entangled in the kiss, with one of their hands on the back of your head, drawing you in, while another firmly squeezed your bare thigh, as though trying to steady himself. The world around you seemed to fade for a moment as you pulled them closer and closer, spit mixing between you three, and the usually noisy living room was unusually quiet for once, except for the sounds of heavy breathing, soft moans, and wet lips smacking together.

The tension was only rising more, all of you growing more eager with each passing second, your tongues moving in perfect harmony with each other, as though you’d done this a thousand times before. And you were yearning for even more, all of you were, your body trembling with need as your arousal slicked your thighs, dripping onto the couch beneath you. The initial hesitation to touch each other had long faded by now, desire consuming you all, thickening the air with an overwhelming mix of lust and anticipation, until—

“Alright. that’s enough.” Theo broke the silence as he suddenly stood in front of the couch, casting a dark shadow over the three of you. He assertively took your wrist and forcefully pulled you up from your seat, while both boys stared up through drowsy eyes, their swollen, spit-covered lips glistening, and your lipstick messily smudged across their flushed faces, wearing dazed and slightly bewildered expressions that hinted at their drunken state.

In one swift, fluid movement, Theo effortlessly threw you over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised squeal from you followed by a drunken giggle, as he playfully slapped your ass with an amused, mischievous smirk dancing on his lips.

The moment Theo walked into your room, he roughly threw you onto your bed, your body bouncing slightly with the impact as you gazed up at him. In contrast to the chilly living room, the temperature here was more pleasant, with the lingering scent of flowery candles you lit earlier still filling the room.

Theo approached you with a dominant air, each long step creaking on the wooden floor, sending your heartbeat racing. When he finally stood before you, he traced his thumb gently over your burning cheek, before slipping it into your mouth, making you suck on it and he groaned at the sight, his eyes darkening. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

Heat flooded your core at the sudden praise, your lace panties now uncomfortably soaked with arousal. Drool trickled from the corners of your swollen lips, his thumb still deep in your mouth as you gazed up at him with half-open, dazed eyes. His tall, imposing figure loomed over you, casting a shadow as he tilted his head in approval, drinking in the sight of you beneath him.

He slowly pulled his thumb out of your mouth, a thin trail of spit still connecting your lips to his finger before he made his way to your bed, lowering himself onto it and motioning with his hand for you to come closer. His demeanour was power-driven, cocky, and lustful, as he leaned back against the headboard, his legs spread wide, his eyes devouring you. You crawled toward him on all fours, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage, your tits nearly spilling out of your shirt as you moved.

“You look so sexy right now, I might just keep you all to myself tonight.” he growled, his voice low and commanding. He didn’t waste much time before gripping the back of your head and eagerly pulling you into a fierce, hungry kiss, his tongue dominantly entering your mouth, not wanting to waste any of the little time he had alone with you.

In the background, you could faintly hear Mattheo and Lorenzo still in the living room, their voices muffled through the thin walls as they bickered once again, but you could make out a sharp “don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this!” and frustrated “you really can’t kiss, you know that? we’re never doing this shit again!”, followed by an exaggerated sound of gagging, causing you to giggle into the kiss.

Theo's warm hand slowly traced from your waist down to your ass, relishing the way you melted under his touch, while his other hand guided yours to his crotch, placing it over his already throbbing erection before he finally pulled away from the kiss.

“Feel how hard I am for you?” theo whispered in a low, sultry voice, the words sending a rush of heat through your body as you palmed him through his tight pants. “All this is for you, amore.”

Just then, you heard Mattheo and Lorenzo stumble down the hallway, their footsteps heavy and unsteady as they sprinted towards your room, clumsily knocking over whatever was in their way, too eager to even care, before finally stepping inside and hastily slamming the door shut.

The first view that met their eyes was your ass raised high in the air, angled perfectly towards them, your skirt having ridden up all the way over your waist, giving them a perfect view of your drenched underwear as you were bent over, hungrily kissing theo.

“Holy… fuck…”

“So— uhm, yeah, we’re— we’re here” they stammered, staring at the scene in front of them with their mouths half open and painfully hard boners visible through their pants, forming noticeable wet patches on the fabric.

Theo's hand on your ass then travelled to the waistband of your panties, teasingly sliding it down and tossing it carelessly to the floor, revealing your glistening cunt with your arousal dripping down the insides of your thighs. Both Mattheo and Lorenzo felt as if they were about to explode and could cum at the sight alone already, but were quickly snapped back to reality when you pulled away from Theo's lips and broke the silence.

“So? You’re gonna help me out or what?” you taunted impatiently with a teasing grin, feeling painfully empty as you squeezed around nothing. They both blinked erratically as they were pulled out of their trance and nodded their heads, eagerness evident in their expressions.

You soon felt both their roaming hands on your body, exploring every inch eagerly with fervent curiosity as they hastily undressed you until you were completely naked, making you more aroused with each tantalising second. You felt their hands everywhere— squeezing your ass, pinching your sensitive nipples, teasingly brushing against your aching cunt. It was driving you wild as you simultaneously unbuckled theo’s belt, staring up at him while he gazed back down at you with that smug, cocky smile that made your heart race.

“You think you can handle all of us at the same time, bella?” you nodded without a second thought, your mind completely consumed by the desperate need for all three of them as you freed Theo’s throbbing cock from his pants, instantly jumping against his stomach as precum leaked from the swollen tip.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” you parted your lips, letting a glistening trail of spit land on his cock as he intently watched you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, biting his lip in anticipation, before your mouth finally met the swollen tip. You gently swirled your tongue over the most sensitive part, causing him to let out a deep, guttural moan, meanwhile behind you, you felt a pair of fingers—you weren’t even sure whose—rubbing your clit in slow circles as you simultaneously heard the frantic unbuckling of belts.

“Just like that, baby, fuck!” Theo’s hand moved to your head, fingers threading through your hair before taking a fistful of it and pulling your hair back into a loose ponytail, ensuring it was out of your way. Your head slowly sank down, taking him all the way into your mouth until you felt the tip brush against the back of your throat and your lips pressed against his balls, causing Theo to throw his head back in pure bliss.

When you felt two fingers suddenly enter you, you moaned loudly around Theo, the sound vibrating against him as the fingers curled up perfectly against your sensitive g-spot. Feeling desperate for more, you pushed your ass back with the movements, instinctively trying to create more friction as the slick, lewd sounds of their digits pumping deep inside of your wet cunt filled the room, mixing with your soft whimpers of pleasure.

“Fuck, she’s so wet” you heard Mattheo groan from behind you as if you weren’t even in the room, his voice thick with desire as he quickly rubbed circles on your aching clit and watched Lorenzo finger you at the same time, causing your legs to shake uncontrollably, your arousal dripping all over their quick hands.

“She’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight— I can tell she wants more.” They were bringing you closer and closer to the edge, your release building with each passing second, but he was right— you wanted, no, needed more. You were craving to feel them, both of them.

“Yeah? You want more, baby? You want us to fuck you at the same time, hm?” Mattheo questioned, and you instantly pulled your lips from Theo with a soft plop, panting as soft ‘please’s desperately slipped from your spit-covered lips.

“Alright. But, uh, let me fuck her ass this time, yeah?” Lorenzo demanded at mattheo as he aggressively shoved him out of the way with his shoulder, causing mattheo to stumble to the side before retaliating with both hands pushing against his chest.

“Nah, it’s my fucking turn.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I'm telling you mate, it’s my tu— alright. rock, paper, scissors to settle this, yeah?”

“Hm, fine… ready? rock…pa—“

“Oh my god, you fucking idiots. Enzo, get under me now before I lose my patience!” you snapped, drunk exasperation lacing your voice while Theo lifted himself from beneath you, shaking his head in a mix of disapproval and amusement, a grin spreading across his face.

“Whatever.” Lorenzo sighed defeatedly as he replaced Theo’s position, pulling you on top of him, his aching cock already nudging at your entrance. Theo settled beside you on the bed, swiftly passing the lube from the nightstand to Mattheo, all while amusingly watching Lorenzo make an even bigger fool of himself.

“What? You don’t want to fuck me? ‘Cause you can go jerk off in the fucking corner if that’s what you’d rather do.” You hissed at Lorenzo, glaring down at him. His eyes momentarily widened in surprise, before he shook his head in playful defiance and let out a low chuckle. Abruptly, he gripped your jaw, pulling your face close to his, and kissed you hungrily as if apologising. “Oh, c’mon baby, you know I love your pussy.”

A small, satisfied smile uncontrollably tugged at the corners of your lips as he rubbed his cock along your folds, teasing you while gazing up at you with that mischievous, sly smirk of his. He then firmly gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, and slowly pushed into your dripping cunt, hissing at the feeling of being swallowed by your warmth. You quickly steadied yourself with your hands resting on his bare chest, feeling him deep inside of you and completely stretching you out, yet still craving more.

“You ready baby?” Mattheo asked from behind you as he spread your cheeks, gazing down with hungry, lustful eyes. “Mhm, please.” You begged, your voice a breathless whisper as you heard him pop the cap of the lube off before hastily rubbing himself with it and slowly pushing into you.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. The feeling of being stretched out by both of their cocks at the same time was so intoxicating, it left you breathless and made your heart race. It was simply indescribable how good it really felt. The sensation caused you to instinctively arch your back as you clutched the sheets tightly, consumed by sheer pleasure, every nerve ending in your body tingling with electric intensity. Mattheo was now fully inside you as well and patiently waited for you to adjust to the intense feeling.

Theo then firmly gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze as you stared up at him through barely open eyes and furrowed brows. “Does that feel good, hm? Having two dicks inside of you?” you nodded with your lips slightly parted in ecstasy, unable to form any coherent sentences.

“C’mon bella, use your words.”

“Feels— feels so fucking good, fuck!”

“Hm, that’s more like it. Open up baby, ‘cause we aren’t done yet.”

You obediently parted your lips wider to let Theo enter your mouth, his hand pressing against the back of your head guiding you deeper as he let out an almost primal groan, throwing his head back at the sensation of your warm mouth. At the same time, both Lorenzo and Mattheo began to move at a slow, deliberate pace, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the heavenly feeling of them stretching you out completely from both holes.

Strings of muffled curse words slipped from your lips as Theo mercilessly fucked your face, his piercing eyes staring down at you as he bit his lip, a low growl of pleasure escaping him. The other two boys quickly began to increase their pace, causing you to see stars as they could feel each other move against one another through the thin flesh that separated them, only intensifying the immense pleasure they were already feeling.

“Look at her— she can barely handle it, having three dicks inside of her.” Mattheo taunted, his hands tightly gripping the soft flesh of your ass as he relentlessly slammed into your tight hole at a brutal pace, causing you to moan loudly around Theo's throbbing erection. Your vision blurred as Lorenzo's hand moved to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it possessively, choking you just enough to make you feel lightheaded.

“You’re taking us so well, pretty girl. Doing so good for us.” Lorenzo growled as he gazed deep into your hazy eyes. Your head felt like it was spinning from the intense sensation, both of them pounding into you at a merciless pace, filling both your holes so deliciously while theo thrust into your mouth, making you gag on his thick cock.

The pornographic sounds of heavy breathing, lewd moans, and loud skin smacking completely filled the room, and you were certain you’d hear complaints from your nagging neighbours the next day, but right now, your mind was too clouded by the pleasure to even care. The feeling was beyond words and you couldn’t get enough.

“Such a dirty fuckin’ slut. One dick just wasn’t enough for you, huh? Sei tutta nostra.” Theo taunted as he slid his hand beneath you to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit while maintaining his brutal pace.

It was becoming too much as both Lorenzo and Mattheo continuously hit your most sensitive spots, quickly sending you spiralling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You moaned loudly, your eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy while your nails dug deep into Lorenzo’s chest. You nearly collapsed on top of him, but theo quickly caught you, holding you up by your jaw with a gentle yet firm grip.

Not much later, Theo and Lorenzo reached their orgasms as well, both emptying themselves deep inside your cunt and mouth while Mattheo pulled out and came on your ass, feeling his warm sperm on your skin in thick spurts, painting you white.

The four of you froze for a moment, trying to catch your breath, chests heaving up and down as if the room was spinning around you from both the aftermath of the orgasm combined with the intoxicated state you were all still very much in. Theo gently wiped the excess sperm from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, hazily smiling down at you.

Lorenzo was the first to break the silence, much to your annoyance, a lazy smile stretching across his face as he leaned back against the headboard. “So, uhm… roommates with benefits, huh?”

“NO! Stop trying to make that a thing!”

“Nice way to instantly ruin the mood, mate.”

“No offense but I’d rather cut off my own dick than refer to any of you as that.”

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

nav. mlist. more content.

taglist (join here): @xolaylaxo @one-direction-harry-potter1 @kayleiggh @abaker74 @anahcruz15 @jasminejandee @hotmystrud @poetrybxtch @leslie-malfoy @justreadingficsdontmindme @droplikeconfetti @burningdesirebby0 @itzliyalupin @hvgwartss @bunnyweasley23 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @loveeharrington @demirunner @saturnmoonyy @nyctophicbtch @usuck @bigtiddywench @mih-velaryon @scrletletter @ecliqwze @le000xxgrd @dramaticals @thepotatopigeon @etolies-garden @rafesslxt @diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic @jllyunn @rafesgiirl @sluttychanel @youroptimisticblackhole @blackthunder137 @rafesthroatbaby @morgxp @eternalbuckley @i-like-pandas5 @qualitykinghologram @helendeath @oceandriveab @llpovi @slytherinshalo @ruckurrr @djlance-rock @frogknot @k-2319 @thelostsea @vendetta-ari @moonpascal @literally-a-ferret @lazybitch06 @201010-11jk @beyond-the-ashes @2dloveshp @riddleswh0re @finnslefthand4 @thestrawberrythatgotaway @zurzolosgf @spidrrhana @someoneisreading

4K notes · View notes

pomegranatesarchive · 6 months ago

Note

Heloo can I request a smau where the reader and lando are dating and they always do date nights but its not really a date night cus oscar is always with them everytime lily isnt there and he just becomes their child 😭 thank you thank youu

just us, and your friend steve | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: at first you were annoyed by oscar being at all of your dates, until you started to miss him when he wasn’t.

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 572,016 others!

yourusername: date night with my boyfriend <3…and his boyfriend!

view comments below!

user1: oscar the certified 3rd wheel

user2: that picture is so cute

landonorris: i love you :)

yourusername: haha simp

landonorris: oscar give my girlfriend her phone back

yourusername: fine 😒

yourusername: i love you too lan :D

landonorris: there she is!

user3: man i would KILL to be a third wheel in this relationship

user4: i would be landos boyfriend 😏

user5: is lando oscar’s only friend??

landonorris: yes!

oscarpiastri: it’s not nice to lie lando

landonorris: im not lying?

oscarpiastri: i have other friends!

landonorris: oh…then why don’t you go hangout with them instead of 3rd wheeling with me and my girlfriend?

oscarpiastri: …

landonorris: that’s what i thought!

yourusername: that was not nice lando.

landonorris: it wasn’t meant to be nice, it was the truth!

yourusername: still, it was mean.

oscarpiastri; yeah lando. it was MEAN.

landonorris: don’t gang up on me??

user6: LMAOO they hang out for one night and they become like this 🤞

user7: i need more of this trio

danielricciardo: and why wasn’t i invited?

maxverstappen1: i have the same question?

landonorris: because you guys have other friends! for osc it’s just me and yn

oscarpiastri; I HAVE OTHER FRIENDS.

landonorris: shhh, shhh, shhh baby it’s okay. it’s okay.

yourusername: baby 🤨

landonorris: omg it just slipped out

user8: that’s…interesting!

user9: yn and lando are so cute together

user9: and oscar cute too ig?

user10: you guess?? that man is gorgeous

user11: the “…and his boyfriend” is TOOO funny. yn i love you

user12: she’s seriously so funny

user13: how can people hate her?

user14: they’re most definitely just jealous

maxverstappen1: oh but when i want to make a heart shaped pizza with you it’s weird?

landonorris: yes!

maxverstappen1: double standard much?

landonorris: she’s my GIRLFRIEND

maxverstappen1: AND WHAT AM I?

user15: i feel like im interrupting something

yourusername: how do you think i feel…

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 528,058 others!

yourusername: paddle and golf with my baby <3 and my baby 🥹

view comments below!

landonorris: why does he get the cool picture and i get that?

yourusername: i think both pictures summarize you guys perfectly!

landonorris: so he’s cool while i’m a loser?

yourusername: i didn’t say that but…

landonorris: WOW, already favoriting the child. i can’t believe this.

yourusername: my child will ALWAYS come first.

oscarpiastri: :D

user16: we went from “my bfs bf” to “my child 🥹”

user17: WE DID IT GUYS

user18: yn and lando adopting oscar agenda is HAPPENING

charle_leclerc: are you trying to steal my child from me?

yourusername: it’s not really stealing if he willingly comes with…

charles_leclerc: it’s just stockholm syndrome, don’t worry oscar i’ll get you away from them soon

oscarpiastri: im actually having lots of fun :)

charles_leclerc: OMG WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM

user19: we got lando and yn adopting oscar…but we lost this during

user20: totally worth it

danielricciardo: when is it my time to be adopted?

maxverstappen1: you are a 35 year old grown man.

danielricciardo: 😐

user21: why is max coming for daniel??

maxverstappen1: i’m bored. since APPARENTLY i’m not landos paddle partner anymore

landonorris: max…i can explain…

maxverstappen1: save it. don’t call me. don’t come by my house. we’re done.

landonorris: i see you watched diary of a wimpy kid

maxverstappen1: i did indeed..

user24: they’re at it again…

user22: max is so funny

user23: i love him

user24: oscar being so quite during all of his is so him coded

user25: he’s just enjoying being out and about

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 601,958 others!

yourusername: vacation with the boyfie <3

view comments below!

user26: omg lando looks so good

user26: i’m going into heat

user26: WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF

user26: GRRRR

user27: this is the first post in 2 months that doesn’t have oscar…

user28: and the crowd…cry’s?

user29; i can’t be the only one who thought oscar would 100% go with them on vacation

user30: i definitely thought so too!

user31: they’ve literally spend all their extra time together

maxverstappen1: how many times did he belly flop?

yourusername: i’ve been swore to secrecy.

user32: she’s so lucky

user33: right? ‘the boyfie’ IMAGINE BEING ABLE TO CALL LANDO NORRIS YOUR BF??

charles_leclerc: guess who’s with me right now 😏

landonorris: charles…don’t.

charles_leclerc: hehehe

yourusername: you’re just his rebound. you’ll never be me.

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiatsri what do you think?

oscarpiastri: i still like yn better

charles_leclerc: i bought you ice cream…

oscarpiatri: you could never be her 🤷

yourusername; IM COMING HOME FOR YOU OSCAR

landonorris: see what you did charles?

maxverstappen1: how are you holding up?

yourusername: i feel like my hearts been ripped out of my chest. i have no reason to wake up.

maxverstappen1: oh!

user34: max was NOT expecting that answer

user35: if oscar doesn’t get himself over to that damn island soon istg

user36: THATS HER BOY 💔💔💔

oscarpiastri: did you find any crabs? :D

yourusername: yes. i will put them in my suitcase and take them with me to show you

user37: so this is crazy!

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 713,046 others!

yourusername: look who joined us!! my son <3

view comments below!

user38: THEY REUNITED!!!

maxverstappen1: how did she take it? 🤣

landonorris: she cried.

yourusername: i did not!

landonorris: yeah baby you did…

oscarpiastri: yn you know how much i hate agreeing with lando, but yes you did cry

yourusername: I MISSED MY SON, GOD FORBID I CRY??

user39: i get you yn. i really do

user40: omg this is so cute

user41: truly adorable

oscarpiastri: now i can see all the crabs in person :D

yourusername; THATS MY SON EVERYONE

charles_leclerc: he was mine first 🥲

yourusername: #getoverit??

landonorris; can’t believe you cried when you saw him

yourusername: i was EMOTIONAL

landonorris: in the four years we’ve been dating you have never cried when seeing me

yourusername: i see you all the time! no need to cry!

landonorris: i want you to cry! cry for me!

oscarpiastri: you could never be me ;)

landonorris: i will send you back to australia

yourusername: if you send him back, i’m going with him

landonorris: WOW.

user42: we have officially entered the era where yn is choosing oscar over lando

user43: her son > her boyfriend

danielricciardo: does this mean i can hop on a plane and go visit you

landonorris: NO. this is officially a family vacation.

danielricciardo: and i’m not family? 💔

yourusername: you’re that one uncle that you see twice a year and don’t talk to or interact with for the rest of said year.

danielricciardo; yeah that makes sense.

. . .

notes; thank you for requesting!! hope you enjoyed :)

5K notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 1 month ago

Text

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 1

LN x fem!leclerc reader

part 1 of 2 -> find part two linked HERE!

in which you just can’t help yourself and neither can lando…

I’M BACK BITCHES!!!! hi sorry it’s been a while but we are back with what i hope is a bang lol. i’ve missed writing so much and as stressful as this was, i’m so so glad to be uploading something! i worked hard on this one and, of course, now i hate it whoops, but my girlie @lavenderlando made this possible and worth it. that’s my hype woman fr fr. N E WAY enjoy! lemme know what you think, and use some imagination for the timeline…

songs to set the vibe: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams, 2hands by tate mcrae, love in the dark by adele, illicit affairs by taylor swift, think twice by suki waterhouse

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!),

part 1: 10.3k words

1. oncoming traffic

“hey, osc, who’s that girl hanging around leclerc? thought he was still with alex.” lando tries his best to sound nonchalant, but oscar can see through him like a freshly buffed window, the way lando clears his throat and nervously ruffles his unruly hair.

“mate, i know you’re not the sharpest but i didn’t think you were that slow.” oscar laughs, side-eyeing the brit. he was baffled that lando was even asking. lando just shoots him a glare. “wait, you really don’t know?” lando’s glare hardens further, his eyes demanding an answer and oscar just laughs. “that’s his sister, you idiot. how have you never seen her?”

lando didn’t know how he’d never seen her. this year had been nonstop, what with the pseudo-championship battle and the never ending media shitstorm that rained on him whenever he reared his head. he’d also learned in his years of racing never to look too closely at the women in another drivers entourage. that’s how you ended up in the wall during a race. but charles’ sister? how had he never noticed?

“maybe i should go and introduce myself.” lando trailed off thoughtfully, his voice remaining playful. oscar snorted beside him, adjusting his racesuit.

“ooh, yeah, send twitter into a frenzy. it’s been boring lately.” the aussie driver drawls sarcastically, successfully dodging lando’s rapidly approaching elbow to his ribs.

“glad to know that you take pleasure in my never ending public humiliation!” lando grins maniacally, sauntering out of the garage, no longer any intention of seeking out the pretty girl in the short, black skirt. it was for the best.

he’s passing through the pit box, immersed in a groupchat thread with max and p about a trip to portugal that he didn’t really want to go on, and bam! like the idiot oscar had just accused him of being, he slams blindly into oncoming traffic.

oncoming traffic: the pretty girl in the short, black skirt.

“are you incapable of looking where you’re going?” your accent comes out thick, low with rage. it tickles his brain, like he’s heard it before. lando opens his mouth, like a fish out of water, closes it again pathetically. “seriously, for a pilot you have abysmal spacial awareness!”

“sorry… what the fuck.” lando mutters. why is this woman shouting at him like she knows him? like he regularly barrels into her?

“lando, yes?” you’ve calmed down a bit now, but you still speak through gritted teeth.

“…yes?” he replies like he’s not so sure.

“learn to look where you’re going.” you wrinkle your nose, composing yourself before stepping around him and strutting down the pitlane as if nothing had happened.

lando stands there, fixed in place, watching her walk away in utter confusion.

“smooth!” oscar calls from inside the garage, flanked by several laughing mechanics.

“go fuck yourself!” lando’s flushed red, now, and beeline’s for the pit wall.

he’s out of earshot when oscar says it.

“think he just met his wife, boys.”

lando is staring at the data on the screen when it hits him, will’s voice somewhere far away all of the sudden.

the mysterious leclerc had every right to reprimand him, because she was right. he did need to learn how to look where he’s going.

she’d told him that already, during their actual first meeting.

2. the first collision

the music was too loud, suffocating him along with the overbearing smell of cheap perfume, but the alcohol in his system and the outpouring of validation kept lando going.

three time race winner, lando norris.

five years of clawing back points and grabbing at podiums with two impatient hands had built up to this, to the incomparable glory of gracing that prestigious top step, and lando wasn’t about to let go of this moment just because of a pressing headache. max and pietra were waiting for him in a booth, surrounded by the rest of lando’s touring entourage. he was wracking up quite the tab, but it was all worth it. every slap on the back, seductive grin sent his way, made it worth it.

he’s stumbling over his feet, wasted, or close to it, grinning lazily, peering through hooded eyes. the vodka cranberry in his hand is sloshing dangerously around in the glass, his careless movements propelling him towards disaster.

lando hears the splatter of liquid, first, the scoff of disgust immediately after. long hair whips against his face as she turns, eyes wide with fury, set into a face that was never meant to look angry. he can smell vanilla, flowers. she’s an angel, turned devilish under the strobe lights, her delicate face morphing when he takes in the sight of him.

“are you fucking serious? mon dieu!” her accent twists his tummy, as does the increasingly see-through material of her tight white dress, layers of chiffon turning transparent with the stark red liquid. it’s all over her back, running slowly down the length of her exposed thighs, sticky. lando stands there, utterly transfixed and useless. she looks like she might slap him; he kind of wants her to. “of course, just stand there. fucking pilots.”

she mutters the last part and lando gulps. what does she know about other drivers? the implication makes his skin crawl for no reason, the idea of this nameless, mystery woman being familiar with his co-workers. he’s flushed with embarrassment for a multitude of reasons, opening his mouth just to close it again.

“‘m sorry!” he finally calls out to her, over the music. can the dj turn that shit down? “can i buy you a drink?” she just glares at him, gesturing at her ruined dress. “or… a new dress?” lando tries again, flashing what he hopes are puppy dog eyes.

he wants to take her back to his hotel room, lick the sweet liquid off of her frame, lap at her til she’s clean and crying. he wants to peel the stained white material off, tear it a little - it’s already ruined anyway! he can’t, though, because she’s wrinkling her nose at him, eyebrow raised, judging, and he’s awash with embarrassment all over again. the club spins and he feels nauseous. he finds max’s eyes on him, his friend stifling laughter at the tragic scene.

she’s gone when he looks back, seems to have disappeared into a cloud of distinctly expensive perfume, and her friends are curling their lips up at him, dismissive. they don’t care who he is. he wonders if they’re redbull fans, ferrari fans, perhaps.

he’s met with hoots of laughter as he slumps into the booth. he grabs a shot without a thought, doesn’t even register what liquor it is as it slides down his thick throat.

“can’t believe you just did that. only you would spill a drink all over leclerc’s sister.” max teases, elbowing him playfully.

“wha- he has a sister?” lando slurs, spluttering.

he doesn’t remember much after that.

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and others.

youruser: shoutout to the guy that spilled his drink all over me!

francisca.cgomes: so beautiful so slay i miss u already

alexandrasaintmleux: love you!!!

charles_leclerc: delete this 🤦‍♂️

and other comments.

3. the watchful eyes of the big, black horse

your arm is linked with kika’s, giggling with her as you walk through the paddock.

“what about him?” kika whispers, pointing her chin towards one of the passing alpine mechanics. he’s blonde, pale, eyes dark. “pierre said he heard that he’s good with the ladies.” she wiggles her eyebrows and your cheeks heat up, swatting her playfully.

“i am not about to get a reputation for sleeping my way through the paddock.” you scoff. “plus, he’s not my type.” you shrug.

“you need to start putting yourself out there more, you keep saying you want someone.” the portuguese girl reasons. you nod sheepishly.

“i don’t wanna look for something, i want it to find me. is that pathetic? i just see how you are with pierre, how alex is with charles, and that’s what i want. something… real.” you sigh. kika sees the way your eyes gloss over with sadness.

“it’s never as easy and as perfect as it looks, babe, trust me. and anyway, maybe just focus on… the thing you were telling me about.” kika lowers her voice, giving you the look.

“shut up!” you squeal. “god, i am not discussing that here!”

“discussing what?” you hear pierre before you see him, hot with embarrassment. you’ve know him since before you could even walk, which is why you have no problem voicing your deepest, darkest shame.

“how i’m not getting laid, apparently!” you drawl sarcastically, slapping your hand over your forehead.

a poorly concealed laugh that you don’t recognise has you whipping around, eyes wide with bewilderment. it’s hearty, smooth, surprisingly warming. you practically growl when your eyes land on the source of the noise, standing next to pierre who looks embarrassed for you, his lips pressed thinly together to prevent himself from cackling.

“why is he here?” you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes so tightly shut that you feel a pang in your temples.

“as polite as ever.” lando smirks. you open

your eyes just in time to catch him eyeing up the skin of your thighs that your skirt doesn’t quite cover. is he checking you out?

“says the drink spiller.” you bite back, rolling your eyes.

“hey, i tried to pay for the damage.” lando looks utterly amused, pink lips still twisted into a punch-worthy smirk.

“so, you’ve met lando, then.” pierre grins, staring between you both. you don’t register the way he’s trading looks with kika, watching whatever this scene is unfold.

“unfortunately!” you smile tightly at the racing drivers.

“pretty sure you walked into me that second time. distracting me in the workplace, or something.” lando chimes in, enjoying this all a bit too much.

“if you did a better job at looking where you’re going-“

“okay, so this has been delightful!” pierre buts in, knowing that you have the shortest temper of all the leclerc offspring. “you,” he points at you. “get laid. you,” he points at lando. “don’t piss her off, you won’t like the result.”

kika can only send you a sympathetic smile, and remind you of the coffee date you have scheduled for tomorrow morning, as she’s dragged away from your place of social suicide. pierre winks, tilts his head far too pointedly for your liking towards lando. you fantasise, in that moment, of clawing his eyes out.

“i am sorry, for the record.” lando smiles at you, genuine and gleaming. something inside of you twists.

“for which time?” you’re just teasing now, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“you have quite the attitude on you. that why you’re not getting any?”

you’re about to rip his head off and give max an even easier ride towards the championship, but lando steps forward. you can smell old spice, tangy and alluring and masculine.

“how fucking dare you-“

“because most men don’t know what to do with a woman like you. don’t know how to treat them right.” he’s so confident when he says it, leaning towards you in a way you can only describe as enticingly.

“oh, and you do?” you scoff, arms crossed. you must remain combative, or else you’ll give in. is this rock bottom?

“i’m free tonight if you wanna find out.”

“i’ll be far too busy doing literally anything else.” you can only pray he hasn’t caught the tremble in your voice, the ever so slight quiver of you bottom lip. you chew it into your mouth to stop yourself.

“but not anyone else.” lando doesn’t pose it as a question. it seems that he’s got you all figured out.

“whatever helps you and your hand sleep well tonight.” you spit. there’s heat between you, sparking into a flame that could burn down your whole life. you feel eyes burning into the back of your head - green ones that match yours. you falter. “i’m done here, lando. have a fantastic evening.”

he takes another liberty, leaning in even closer. spearmint and the idea of a million bad choices flood your every pore. you can feel the big, black horse watching over you, now, set into bright yellow, adorned with ferrari red. looming, warning, turning you in.

“you know, something tells me i will.”

lando disappears first, not even giving you a chance you spin on your heel and storm off. you want to kill him, hurt him, sink your teeth into that bronzed, thick throat, claw into his back, down, down, down… until you’re on your knees and-

“why were you talking to lando?” charles’ voice cuts through your filthy thoughts and you sign yourself over to god immediately, purifying yourself as you banish the visions of delicious sin. after all, you’re standing in the presence of il predestinato, the prince of monaco, a saint to many. but to you, he’s just your brother. your big brother, always in the way, always meddling, always, always watching. you sigh.

“friendly conversation.” you quip, short. you love him dearly, would take bullets for him, but, god, he keeps you on a leash. leo’s has more give than the conceptual tether charles has to you, keeping you close, boyfriendless, out of “trouble”. you know why, and deep down, you’re beyond grateful, all things considered. you can’t admit that, though.

“that’s not how pierre described it to me.” charles raises an eyebrow, voice bitter despite the clear attempt he’s made to try and hide it.

“fucking pierre.” you grunt. “it’s nothing, he came over with pierre. i was with kika. first time i’ve ever even had a conversation with lando.” that didn’t result from a drink being spilt over you to the point of transparency. you leave that bit out - charles really doesn’t need to know that.

charles mulls over your words, eyeing you suspiciously. you want to stomp your heeled foot like a child, a brat, scream and shout and kick and wail that he has to back the fuck off eventually, but you just smile innocently and pray he believes you.

“okay,” he mutters, making his peace. “i don’t want you getting too… familiar with him. bad reputation. he used to be quite sweet until his last breakup and now he will fuck anything with a pulse.” you wrinkle your nose at your brothers crude words, feeling the need to jump in and object. but why? you don’t know lando, you don’t care about lando. you press your lips into a thin, painful line. “you should go back to the hotel with alex. looks like i’ll be here late.” he rolls his eyes, you know how it is.

“sure, good luck.” you offer, smothering the rage that pools in your belly. let me fucking live, you think. just because he’d had to swoop in and save you from yourself once before, didn’t mean that you could live like this forever.

he has lit a spark under you, one that spreads like a wildfire towards the flame that lando ignited minutes before. if only your brother knew how to keep his big mouth shut, you wouldn’t be spurred on to bad behaviour.

if only lando hadn’t spilled that drink over you, maybe you wouldn’t be opening his instagram profile and sending a message request.

a place. your room number. a time.

you only wish you’d gotten to see the devilish grin on his face when he received it.

lando can’t want you for the reasons that other guys do. your status as charles leclerc’s little sister, and the gateway to your brother that you provided, meant nothing to the brit. that’s why you’d let him have you; he wouldn’t try to take more than you wanted to give.

4. generous

the knocks are soft against the door, yet they manage to have every hair on your body standing to attention. you’re quick to let him in, itching to get him inside and away from prying eyes. this is clandestine, secret, could even feel somewhat sacred once it’s over, and the last possible thing you could ever need is for another soul to know what you intend to do with lando, what you intend to let him do to you.

“hey.”

“hi.”

you stare at each other.

he steps forward. you don’t move away. he takes it as an invitation to close the space entirely, so close that, there it is again: oldspice, except this time it’s mixed with something fresh, shower gel you guess, sea salt. his curls are crisper than they were a few hours ago, still damp from the shower he must have just taken.

“what changed your mind?” he asks.

“i was feeling generous.” you deadpan. he bites back a laugh.

“generous, huh?”

“very.”

“considering your alleged dry spell, i’d say i’m the generous one, no?” his voiced is edged with something dark, dropped a few octaves. you could absolutely squirm under his gaze, but you hold strong.

“you know where the door is if that’s how you’re gonna be.” you coo, mocking his seductive undercurrent. all he does is flash his teeth, grinning cheekily, his way of accepting your challenge, your attitude.

“i think you want me to stay, honey.”

honey. you fear it works on you. the gap closes even further, you fear it’s your doing.

“you’re only getting this opportunity because i invited you here.” your resolve is slipping. you’ve admitted that you want him in your pathetic bid to hold the power, when the truth is, you want him to pounce on you, strip away every layer and barrier and make you see stars, feel euphoric.

“okay, honey, whatever you say.” he chuckles, cruel and taunting. “so, how dry of a spell has it been? wanna know what i’m working with.”

lando touches you then, lightning shooting down your arm as he traces from your elbow down to your fingers, featherlight, barely there, a ghost of a touch that haunts you so deliciously. your fingers intertwine. you initiate it, but really, it’s his fault. this is all his fault.

you try and laugh, but it sounds broken, quivering it’s way out from your dry throat.

“dry.”

he just stares at you, expectant. he needs to hear more, needs to know. he craves details about you, has ever since you body slammed him outside his garage - leading to some very covert instagram stalking on his behalf and his oh so convenient way of worming his way into a conversation with pierre when lando could see that the other driver was on his way over towards you. it’s pathetic, maybe, but he craves you the way one craves nicotine forever after just one puff of a cigarette. he has you, just for tonight, maybe longer if he gets this right, so he will know everything he needs to know so that he can touch you just how you need.

“i’ve only… it’s been a while.”

he sees right through you.

“you’ve only what?” he presses. he needs to know.

“i’ve only done this once.” you whisper. it’s the meekest he’s seen you. he loathes it.

“and was it good?” lando murmurs so attentively that you want to cry.

your fourth interaction with this man, and he has you melting.

“not really.”

“do you trust me?” his nose is bumping yours. you’re locked in, twitching. he has both hands on you, now, one still laced with yours, the other trailing up your arm, tempted to brush his fingertips against the taut skin of your neck.

how the fuck can i trust you? i don’t know you! what the fuck are we doing? what the fuck am i doing?

that’s not what you say, though, because for some reason, you are so sickeningly comfortable and okay that you worry that something is wrong with you.

“yes.”

“then this time will be so, so much better. i’ll make it all better.”

when his lips meet yours, you’re surprised at how good it immediately feels. you don’t know what you were expecting, but his lips are plush, enveloping yours softly, but firm enough that you sink into him, allowing him to cement that grip on the side of your neck that he’d been taunting you with.

he kisses you like he’s sure of everything, like this is second nature and you’ve done it a thousand times. you want to kiss him a thousand times. why it’s so good, you’re not sure, but it gives you the confidence to lean into him, grab the bottom of his hoodie in your hands and tug.

“be patient, ‘n i’ll make you feel so good, honey, i promise.” he mouths down your cheek, nipping at your jaw, down your neck until he finds that special spot below your ear. he nibbles there, lapping his tongue over your sensitive skin like he already knows your body. you want to see just how familiar with you he can get. “but,” he punctuates the word with a sharp bite. you both dread and revel in the mark it will leave. “you have to behave for me, okay?”

his words are whispered against the shell of your ear and you shiver, eyes rolled back already. you wonder if he’ll get them to do a full three-sixty rotation in your skull.

“‘kay.” you breathe, mindless, floating away. it’s already better than last time.

“‘kay’?” he mocks. “no, honey, you gotta promise me. can you promise me?”

“promise.” you lock eyes, conveying your obedience. his eyes blow wide, pupils dilating to shove away the mysterious bluey green. his teeth grit. he knows he’s hit the jackpot.

“good girl.”

you’re stripped naked, mustering all of your energy to shove his clothes off, his hoodie flying away, his sweats kicked into a faraway dark corner. you’re left naked, him in some increasingly tight boxers, and you tumble into the freshly made bed. he slinks over you, crawling on his hands and knees, predator stalking prey.

he stains your inner thighs purple, tugging your legs over his shoulder, huge hands warm and rough as they manoeuvre your malleable body to his liking. lando presses kisses to every inch of skin, dragging his tongue over your bare flesh before he spreads you open, sucking and tasting and savouring. he moans into you, open and wet, and it ricochets off of every nerve ending, sending your body taut and arched, catlike. you’re trying to get away, whilst simultaneously grinding yourself closed to him, feeling that broad, sharp nose of his bump messily and firmly against your clit, an ache spreading through your pelvis that makes you shake and shake and whine his name out to the gods.

“taste like heaven.” lando’s words are simple, straightforward, make you bite your lip so hard you taste something metallic seeping over your tongue. “so tight, even around my tongue,” he slurs, drunk, lost. “gotta stretch you out for me. that okay, honey?” you can just about make it all out, and you nod furiously, pleading.

his teeth graze your clit.

“say please.”

“putain! please!” you kick your feet out when all he does is laugh into your wet flesh.

one finger grazes through your folds, parting them and collecting a mess of your slick. he looks transfixed as it drips down his finger.

honey.

you watch him watch how he opens you up, revelling in the utter fascination painting his features, pussy drunk and curious, transfixed.

“can’t believe you’ve never been fucked right.” he coos, breathless, genuinely shocked. you quake under his skilful hands and his awful, sinful, dirty mouth.

“more.” you plead, not ashamed by your crude begging. you’re a mess for him already, might as well get the full experience.

“think you can take another?”

a second finger slides in, rocking against your walls, testing the waters. you writhe, meeting his movements with shallow thrusts of your hips.

“faster, i need- mon dieu! anything, lando, please just-“ he really goes to town then, scissoring your dripping cunt open, curling and twisting and grinding the two digits so deep that you see white, hazy chocolate coloured curls and deep, glazed over eyes.

“that’s it, honey, there you go. so fucking pretty for me.” lando whispers the last bit, awestruck, and you’d take the time to wonder why if you weren’t on the verge of tears, overstimulated, ears ringing. your orgasm crashes over you like a surge of electricity, tearing through your body like it’s trying to escape and take cover. it’s so strong that you’re damp everywhere, sweating and crying and so fucking shocked that it can feel like this.

“lando.” you pant, mouth dry, voice hoarse.

“you did so good. was it okay?” he rubs small circles into your hips, eyes flitting between your own and where you’re still leaking for him. he manages to tear his eyes away, like a trance has broken, snaking up your body until he’s laying next to you, propped up on his elbow. he hovers over you, raking his eyes over the rising and falling lines of your body.

“pretty good, i guess. didn’t know you had it in you.” you tease, smirking lazily up at him.

you want to keep staring at him but your vision is blurring as your eyes begin to droop. what a long day it’s been.

“high praise coming from you.” lando reasons, laughing lightly. he strokes over your hipbone and you jolt, curling around onto your side. his skin is warm against yours, soft and smooth, and you dare you press your even closer, shy, as if he wasn’t just buried mercilessly between your legs. you hum in response, spent and languid. “you wanna get some sleep?” he asks.

“we didn’t… i mean, you didn’t…” you trail off, awkward, gesturing towards his middle.

lando just smiles.

“guess i’ll just have to come find you in monaco.”

you flush, cheeks burning as you consider the fact that you’re gonna be in the same country, a very small, very private city. who knows what could happen?

you fall asleep quickly, easily, far too comfortable next to the british driver. if you were to ask, he’d say he left immediately. he watches the way you breathe far too intently, ever so slowly pulling his clothes back on. he doesn’t know how long passes, but what he does know is that he can’t wait to have you like this again.

5. some guy

you sink into the oversized armchair, sitting back and letting kika and alex talk, nattering backwards and forwards about nothing in particular. or, maybe you’re just zoned the fuck out.

you can’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, your body littered with evidence, dark purple bruises turning a stale green between you thighs. when you woke up, you initially wondered if it was all a dream, but the dull, sweet ache thrumming through your bones told you just how real it really was. you went through the motions, embarrassed momentarily before deciding to just embrace it, try to bask in the way he’d made you feel: sexy and desirable and electric.

it was just a shame that it had to be him. that’s what you kept telling yourself, at least.

kika’s nodding along to a story alex is telling about leo, about to respond with a similar anecdote about simba but she gasps instead, almost spilling her americano all over herself. this gets your attention and you open your mouth to ask her is she’s okay, but she beats you to it.

“my god, what is that?” she chokes, staring at you. or, well, your neck.

you flush, heated, blood pooling in your cheeks.

you’d tried to cover it up, seriously, applying layer after layer of concealer and strategically placing your hair in such a way that you prayed it wouldn’t be noticeable, but nonetheless, there it is, clear as day. red raw skin tinged purple around the seams, branded into your neck like some kind of public humiliation ritual.

fuck you, lando fucking norris!

you avert eye contact, leaning away from alex who is now making a point of leaning in, going as far as to push your hair back so she can get a closer look.

“oh my gosh!” she squeals, giggling with kika.

you take a long, slow gulp of coffee, not caring that it burns your tongue.

“who was it? holy shit, was it lando?” kika whisper shouts and you officially drop dead on the spot, watching her connect the dots so easily.

“oh jesus, no! no!” you lie, feigning offence, your leg bouncing shamefully under the table. the two girls eye you suspiciously, but you assume you’ve played it off well.

“who, then?” alex asks. you wonder if kika has told her about yesterdays interaction.

“just- i don’t even know, some guy.” you huff, playing with a loose thread hanging from your jumper.

“some guy? after what you were saying yesterday? okay, babe.” kika teases sarcastically. “no, cmon, who?” she pouts, leaning in as well.

“just… someone.” you squeak, unable to look up at them.

“okay, well, we will find out eventually.” alex wiggles her eyebrows and you stick your tongue out, mock-glaring at your sister in law.

“no, the fuck you won’t.” you try and fake some confidence, scrapping for a mere shred of control.

yes, the fuck they will, because when you leave for the bathroom, you leave your phone unlocked like the utter fool you are. god has it out for you, you figure, because that’s when he chooses to strike.

the message lando sends you is short and sweet, and alex chokes on a piece of cake when kika starts gesturing wildly at the notification that pops up on your screen.

for when you’re lonely at home and can’t find anyone to fuck you right.

attached is his address.

they don’t breathe a word when you come back, but they share a knowing smirk when they catch you smiling at your phone, and again when you ask if either of them have anything with a higher neckline that you can wear for the race.

youruser has just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and others

youruser: race day, big slay

user1: LEO!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: prettiest girl in the world

user45: lando what are you doing here 🤔

6. manners

“are you even listening to me right now?” charles scoffs, finishing off his drink out of annoyance. your eyes snap back to him, the thumping music vibrating through your body.

“sorry, just tipsy.” you purse your lips, attempting to lock back in on whatever he’s saying, but it’s hard. it’s hard, because sprawled out in a booth across from where you stand at the bar, lando is watching your every move.

you’ve managed to avoid him thus far, no contact since you’d liked the DM he’d sent you a few weeks back. you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t think of him and what you’d done at literally every waking moment, so the way he’s watching you, hooded eyes sparkling under the strobe lights, has you squirming. it was easier to tell yourself that, surely, it wasn’t that good when he wasn’t right in front of you in a half unbuttoned shirt. the navy blue fabric is wrapped around his body deliciously, taut where his muscles are, the colour popping against his tanned skin - which you can practically feel writhing against yours.

you wish charles would go away so you could crawl into that booth and commit public indecency.

speak of the devil, your brother seems to have clocked that you have zero interest in what he has to say so he huffs, ordering another round for the table and telling you he’s going to find alex. he shuffles away and you subtly search for the british drivers mindful eyes, but he’s disappeared, left his entourage in the booth. you swallow disappointment that makes you feel pathetic, head in your hands against the bar top, but the lightest brush of fingers against your waist drags you out of your spiral. you know immediately.

“did you dress like that for me, or are you just a slut?” he’s grinning, light and teasing, surprisingly sober, tipsy at most, just like you.

“i could ask you the same.” you smirk, blatantly eyeing his exposed chest. he shrugs, leaning in.

”might have left an extra button undone just for you.” lando winks and you hope the lights hide the way you flush.

“sure you did, just for me and every other girl in here.” you challenge. his eyebrows furrow.

“nope. just for you.” his eyes darken, just a tad but enough that you notice. your mouth runs dry. “you never replied to me.”

“not true, i liked the message.” you smile coyly, sipping your drink. your lipstick smears against the rim of the glass and you watch him stare at the print, tongue wetting his lips.

“you are something else.” he shakes his head, pushing his curls back. it could be frustration, but he still seems at ease, like he’s enjoying your combative nature. you smile into the glass, hoping he doesn’t notice. he does. “how much have you had to drink?”

“this is my second.”

“you sober enough for me to take you home?” lando’s face is mere inches away from yours now, and you can feel the pull, desperate to crawl into the space that still remains and lose yourself there.

“depends.”

“on?” you truly exasperate him, but he thinks he loves it.

“if you’re actually gonna fuck me this time.” you casually take another sip, playing it off as if your crude words had no impact on you.

lando’s eyes widen at your bluntness, and so does his grin.

“meet me by the valet.”

lando leaves, and you quickly follow, downing the remnants of your glass and touching up your lipgloss.

alex watches from her booth, and pulls out her phone.

to: kika gomes

oh, she’s deeeeefinitely sleeping with lando!!!

pietra leans towards her boyfriend, close enough that he can hear her over the noise.

“isn’t that charles’ sister?” she shouts, pointing to the bar, where lando is stood.

max analyses the way he’s stood, leant against the bar, nice and close to the ferrari drivers little sister. he knows that look on lando’s face, and he knows it far too well. max pinches the bridge of his nose.

“oh for fuck sake.”

it’s weird, sitting with him in silence. he’s only had half a drink, able to drive back through the winding hills to his apartment. you stare out the window, mostly, when you aren’t staring blatantly and curiously at lando. you can see the sea, glistening under the moonlight and you wish you could focus on that instead, but he’s there, and you have to admit - begrudgingly, albeit - that he’s stunning. his hands wrap around the wheel tauntingly, as if he’s trying to convey how he’ll touch you, all consumingly. your thighs press together, your fingers clasping together as if you’re subconsciously stopping yourself from reaching out for him prematurely.

as if he can hear your thoughts, his palm smoothes over the skin of your bare thigh, right where your dress has ridden up, without a second thought, nothing tentative about the way his digits curve around your skin.

“so, you’ve been thinking about that night, then?” he breaks the silence, glancing over at you.

“what makes you say that?” you whisper, not even meaning to but the silence had been so heavy.

“well, you only left with me on the condition i’d bend you over.” he laughs loud, whole and warm. you fight it, just for a second, but then you join in, giving in to him. you can’t help it, he makes it easy.

“you got me.” you concede, rolling your eyes. without realising it, you’ve relaxed completely into his touch.

he pulls off of the road and into a private garage. you breath hitches.

“do you want a drink or…?” lando gestures blindly towards his kitchen, walking further into the apartment.

he’d spent the elevator ride up to his place leant against the opposite wall, taunting, making you wait. he’d let himself look at you, totally unabashedly, raking his eyes over your frame, meekly tucked into the corner, shy under his intense gaze but frustrated by his lack of urgency.

“i’m good. didn’t come here for a tea party.” you hope your words push his buttons. they must, because he turns on his heel, facing you again, suddenly towering over you.

his eyes are steel, face serious, and you don’t know what to do. you’ve never seen him look at you like this.

“i think we need to work on your manners.” he speaks condescendingly, down at you, and if you weren’t so needy, hadn’t been waiting weeks, you’d turn around and leave just to really prove his point. but you stay planted, looking up at him through mascara coated lashes, softening you gaze until you’re sure you’re conveying faux innocence.

“maybe we can work on them in your bedroom.” you truly don’t know where you get this confidence from, he’s the second man to have ever touched you so intimately, but he’s magnetic, drawing you out of your own head and straight towards him.

he tugs you towards him, kissing you messily, right there in the dim light of his kitchen, pawing at your waist hungrily. his tongue brushes your and you moan, humming into his mouth at the faint taste of mint and vodka, long gone but you can taste everything. his thick fingers find your ass, hoisting you up until you have no option but to wrap your legs around him, your dress scratching at your thighs the higher it rides up, but all it does it turn you on more, rough sensations on sensitive skin.

lando walks you blindly to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss, and you wonder how many times he’s done this to get it down to muscle memory. the thought makes you nauseous, drags you mercilessly right back into your head, and you pull away, your lips barely brushing his.

“why me?” you breathe, panting into the shallow space where your mouths have parted.

“what?” he whispers, confused.

“why do you want to do this with me?” you have to check, past insecurities rising to the surface like bile in the back of your throat. he looks genuinely baffled and you feel foolish for ruining the moment.

“why wouldn’t i? you’re gorgeous and-“ he cuts himself off, his eyes glazing over. the demeanour slips and you’re stuck, his arms still tight around you, holding you close in the empty space at the foot of his bed.

“what?” you whisper.

“you’re part of the same life.” the way he looks at you says words that he can’t.

words that will sound too shallow and too selfish and too meaningless, even though you will understand them because you’re here for similar reasons, and therefore, they will mean too much.

you can’t take things from him. you can’t fake it. you can’t break him into a million pieces when he finally discovers that you want him because of what he can give you.

you nod once, firm.

“i get it.” you smile sadly. lando wants to know more. he can find out some other time. a moment of clarity passes between you. “kiss me, again?” you ask. he delivers immediately.

kisses you all the way onto the bed. kisses you while he helps you take off your heels, while he drags the zipper of your dress down. you both feel safe now, understood, and that really moves things along.

“so pretty.” he mutters into your skin, shedding you of your tight dress.

your shaky fingers work over the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off of his broad shoulders, taking in the sight of him all over again. you’re left in your panties, braless already, and he gawks down at you, like he’s seeing everything for the first time. it makes you feel powerful.

“can you hurry up?” you writhe, arching into his touch. he smiles, covering his body with yours and pressing a kiss to your lips. his fingers slide over the curves of your body, finding the band of your underwear and toying with it.

“want me to take them off?” he purrs, trailing his lips down your jaw to just below your ear.

“now.” you beg, eyes fluttering closed as his warm breath pricks at your skin, teeth nibbling. “no marks.” you whine, flashing back to the weeks over knowing looks and attempts at covering the last one up.

“what were we saying about manners, hm? gonna need to start hearing some ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’, okay, honey?” he bites down again, harder this time, and you squirm underneath him, your soft belly moulding to each dip of his abs.

his fingers dip into your panties, finding your clit amongst your wetness. you just about bite back a moan, but you can’t help but roll your hips into his hand, his fingertips gliding easily through your folds.

“va te faire foutre.” you mutter, teeth gritting at the pleasure and his words. go fuck yourself.

“i’ve lived in monaco long enough to know what that means.” lando whispers, pinching your clit once before plunging a finger inside of you.

you hiss, head thrown back, the feeling of him smiling against the hickey bittersweet. and to think, it was almost healed. you can’t help but keen into his touch.

“more,” you pant. “please.”

“you learn fast.” lando approves, and quickly fulfils your request, adding another finger.

they flex inside of you, grinding deeper and deeper until you’re whimpering his name and leaking down his wrist. your arms wrap around him, nails digging in to his smooth back, his ropey muscles tensing under your firm touch. his thumb bumps your clit, over and over, pushing you to the precipice, so close you can taste the impending orgasm on your tongue.

“it’s so good, merci, god.” you sound wrecked already, and lando can’t wait to see how far he can push, how far apart he can take you.

“that other fucking loser didn’t know what he had, jesus, you’re so fucking hot.” he rasps, admiring the rise and fall of your chest, how your breasts bounce with every thrust of his fingers, the way his hand is glistening in the low light of his bedroom. his words are your undoing, the awe in his voice sending sparks shooting through every nerve ending.

“lando, ‘m gonna… putain!” the way you switch languages is sexy to him, tells him how scrambled your brain is, and he twitches in his boxers. when you cum, it’s as gorgeous and as enticing as the first time, and he jolts against your hip, desperate to get inside of you finally.

“you’re so beautiful.” he groans, pulling his fingers from your entrance. he stares blindly at the mess you’ve made on them, salivating, remembering the way you taste. it’s a no brainer for him, and he licks both digits clean, giving you just a moment to recover.

“i need you.” you whisper, your legs still spread, quivering slightly.

you pull him in once more, his covered crotch grinding against your slick and you cry out, the friction sending you into overdrive. his teeth dig into your shoulder, the sensation entrapping him, leaving him weak, ready to give you whatever you ask. he pushes his underwear away, and your eyes go wide.

“you can have me,” he grunts, running his hand over himself. “think you can take it?” he wets his lips and you think you could cum again at the sight of him. sweat slicked, tight curls falling over his eyes, lips licked pink and kiss swollen, hard and heavy in his own hand, body curved over yours possessively. you’re a simple woman, really.

“i think i can try.” you want to sound confident, but it comes out as a squeak.

he sits back on his knees and brings his free hand to cup your jaw.

“i’ll go slow with you, honey, okay? you can tell me to stop.” lando promises. “you sure you want this?”

you nod, pouting up at him.

“i want you, i can take it.” you manage through a deep breath.

the stretch is brutal, splitting you in half. all you can do is breathe, watching the way he watches you, and that’s what you hone in on, his pretty eyes watching where he’s filling you up. when he bottoms out, he stops for a second, scanning your face for discomfort.

“are you okay?”

“c’mere.” you coo, and he falls back over you, paws at your waist. “move, lando.” you plead.

it’s slow, deep, makes your toes tingle. you can feel each and every drag of him against your walls and it makes you dizzy, a knot twisting and tickling in your belly. your fingers are twisted around him, around his biceps, crumbling a little bit every time he flexes in your grip.

“oh, mon dieu.” you’re whimpering, legs wrapping around him like vines, tighter and tighter with every buck of his hips.

“‘s it feel good, honey? yeah? you’re so fucking tight for me.” lando chokes, licking over the sweat on your collarbone. “‘m i making it feel good?” he sounds so cocky, sexy, but there’s a soft edge around his words. it matters to him, how he’s treating you, this, a certain delicateness hanging around your intertwined bodies like a cloud.

“so good, lando, so fucking good.” the words scratch your throat raw, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“no, no, lemme hear you, pretty girl. can feel how close you are for me.” you can hear the edge to his voice, can tell the end is near for both of you, the way his words wobble despite his best attempts at hiding it. “need you to look at me, and i need to hear you.”

you don’t even realise until then that your eyes are shut, screwed up tight as the pleasure rolls through your body, flooding each and every one of your senses. you free your lip, and everything pours out, whines, raw slurs of his name.

“i’m so close.” he grunts, watching the way your face moves, hanging on to every micro expression, the way you battle to keep all of your attention on him.

“fill me up.” you urge, squeezing his hips between your thighs. his eyes widen, the request slowly registering, and he blinks away the voice in his head telling him to do it.

“you know i can’t.” he’s firm, sensible even if you aren’t.

“want it so bad, lan, please, wanna feel it.” you reason, cupping his face and pushing his curls back.

“not tonight.”

“yes, tonight. give it to me.”

“i said no, don’t be a fucking brat.” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

“know you want it.” you whisper, seductive and devious. you can see his resolve slipping, tightening around him.

before you can say anything else, your hands are scooped up, pinned above your head. he’s right over you now, your hips perfectly aligned, and he’s driving so deep that you swear you can feel him in your tummy. his thrusts resort to a harsh grind, digging into each other with every snap of his pelvis.

“you want it so bad? huh? fine.” he growls, forehead resting against yours. “want me to cum in you, fuck it all back in? yeah, honey? you gonna keep it all in for me?”

“whatever you want.” you promise, eyes rolling back in your head. “just- please, please do it.” you pant, mouth dry.

“that’s it, pretty girl, take it all for me.” he buries his face in your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “doing so good.” the words fan against your throat, hushed, leaving you warm from the inside out, brainless.

when you spill around him, it’s at the same time as he lets go, and he fucks you through your orgasms. you go limp beneath him, taking it, letting it all wash over you, letting him wash all over you. you feel like you can’t breathe, suffocating under the weight of him and the reality of what you’ve just done. again. for some reason, you don’t care, and decide that you’ll do this again and again, anytime he’ll have you. not that you’ll ever tell him that…

“fuck.” he exhales, rolling off of you carefully, but the overstimulation - and then lack thereof - makes you wince, and he strokes your hip gently in apology.

“that was better than i thought it would be.” you grin, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“you know, these are starting to sound kinda backhanded.” he beams, laughing breathlessly, but just as he begins to relax into his bedspread, he remembers. “oh fuck, shit, we need a pharmacy!” lando bolts up so that he’s sitting, scanning the room blindly for his clothes. you giggle and he snaps his head towards you, panicked.

“no, lando, we don’t.”

“all of that ‘uh, fill me up, please lando you’re so sexy’ talk means that, yes we absolutely do! fuck, how much is plan b these days?” he’s spiralling now, tugging at his curls.

“first of all, i’m on birth control. second of all, i don’t sound like that, and most importantly, i did not call you sexy.” you smirk, stretching out your tight muscles.

“that’s the most important part? woman, you nearly killed me.” lando gasps, slumping back down into bed.

“‘m sorry, couldn’t resist playing with you a little. good to know we share a kink, though.” your smirk turns into a coy smile, and you swing your shaky legs out of the bed, your feet sinking into the plush rug.

“oh, yeah? what other kinks are you hiding from me?” lando sits back against the headboard, tucking his hands behind his bed. you have to look away, or else you’ll accidentally fall back into his bed.

“guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” it makes him quirk an eyebrow, a look of understanding settling over his face.

“so this is gonna be a regular thing, yeah?”

you’re putting your underwear back on when he says it, searching for your dress, but his words make you freeze. he sounds hopeful, and it makes your chest pang… wait, is that your heart?

“i don’t… i mean, as you unfortunately know, i haven’t done this before. i don’t know how this works.” you say it so earnestly, so innocently, that his whole face softens, awestruck and boyish.

“i want it to be a regular thing.” he says it gently, like he’s offering it to you, to the universe.

“okay. me too.” you whisper back, shy under his gaze.

“are you… like, do you think you’ll be sleeping with other people?” lando squeaks, doing a terrible job of playing it cool.

“for so many reasons, no.” you grimace. “but if we’re doing this then i wouldn’t want to anyway.” you say softly. your dress is back on now, but he has you flustered, and you can’t quite get the zipper.

“lemme help.” he offers, and he’s out of bed and before you in a matter of seconds. his calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls the zipper together and up, adjusting your dress back into place. it feels so terrifyingly intimate, exciting, and you can’t bring yourself to move away. “i wouldn’t want to either.” he breathes the words quietly into the small space between you.

“okay.” you don’t even try to hide the way you beam, staring up at him.

“i’ll take you home, yeah?”

“yeah.”

7. worth it

and so, begins a clandestine affair, touches in the shadows, subtle glances, watchful eyes.

one of you calls, the other comes, sneaking through doors that neither of you should enter, leaving bars a few minutes apart, making up excuses to get out of plans.

there’s the time lando has you bent over the end of your bed, tears leaking into the mattress, slick everywhere. he’s so deep this way, hammering away at the special spot nestled within you that he’s become very familiar with. one of his hands is dragging your hips back to meet his thrusts, the other splayed out across your back, holding you down.

your phone rings. it’s alex. you were supposed to be a brunch twenty minutes ago. you groan out, frustrated in every sense of the word.

“answer it, honey.” lando grunts, pulling you towards him even harder. you whimper, shaking your head, words dying on your tongue. “go on, i know you can do it. wouldn’t want alex to worry, would you? let her know you’re okay.” he coos, condescending.

he’s so arrogant, full of it, and you like the challenge. you can’t let him win, can’t let him revel in how fucked out he has you, so against your better judgement, you grab the phone, fingers shaking as you answer.

“hi, love. i know, i’m late! ‘m sorry, i’ll be there soon!” you wince at the way your voice shakes. you hope she can’t hear the way you’re panting, or the sound of his hips hitting yours.

lando slows his hips, hitting deep at such a torturously slow pace that feels a million times better than it already did. your free hand flies back, swatting at him.

“where the hell are you? i was worried!” alex sounds relieved, but there’s something else in her tone that you can’t quite decipher.

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.” you lie, throwing your younger brother into the line of fire. you know, for credibility. alex is silent for a moment.

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” and with that, she hangs up the phone. you release a breath you were holding, crying out when lando immediately speeds up again.

“i hate you.” you choke, grinding your hips into him. lando just scoffs, sliding a hand under your belly, flush against the mattress. he finds your clit, playing with it, urging you quickly towards your release.

“no, you don’t.” he laughs. “you better cum for me, pretty girl, i think you have somewhere to be.”

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.”

alex has to bite back a laugh. she stares across the table, where arthur is having an avid debate with charles and joris. arthur, who had been with her and charles for hours.

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” alex hangs up the phone, giggling to herself. leo stirs in her lap.

“what’s so funny?” charles asks her. she shakes her head.

“oh, nothing, she just overslept.”

there’s the time where he has you hiked up on your kitchen counter, messy curls tickling the insides of your thighs. he’s licking at you ravenously, dragging his tongue up and down, twisting around your clit in circles.

you’re tugging on his hair, holding him close to where you’re aching, dripping, slicking up the lower half of his face. he’s groaning into you, starved and desperate. it’s been a week since you’ve seen him, had him like this, the longest you’ve done without him since the first time you’d had sex. its untamed and needy and you fear what it means, the way you’re so addicted to one another.

you also haven’t seen your brother for a week, something you realise when you hear a key turn in the lock, down the corridor. you have seconds to react, the noise washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water. you squirm, pushing a very confused lando away, managing to kick him lightly in the head as you leap from the counter.

“mon dieu! fuck, i’m sorry!” you gasp.

“what the fuck is going on-“ you cut him off, slapping your palm over his mouth.

you glance around frantically, looking for a way out of this. there is but one option available.

“the balcony! just- fuck, get out there!” you shoo him over to the small window, begging him with your eyes. “please! i’ll get rid of him!”

you can hear footsteps approaching. you’re sweating now, smoothing down your skirt and your hair anxiously.

charles calls your name, rounding the corner and walking into your kitchen, just as you pull the window closed again.

“shit, you scared me!” you fake, clutching your chest. you can feel your heart hammering.

“i did knock, sorry!” charles looks you over, scanning the kitchen. “are you okay?”

“yeah, fine, sorry, i must have been out of it. i’m in the middle of an assignment.” you lie.

“oh okay, well i can always go…” he’s looking at you weirdly, and you fear he knows something, that he can tell.

“can we get dinner tonight? i’ll book.” you offer, scratching your neck.

“yeah, that’s great. are you sure you’re okay?” your brother asks, turning to leave.

“promise, yeah, i’m just so busy with work, deadlines and all that.” you wrinkle you nose, feigning distaste.

“well you can tell me all about it later, okay? love you.” charles says sincerely, smiling.

“love you too.” you call, listening for the sound of the door closing behind him.

you immediately rush for the window, throwing it open, peeking your head out. lando stands with his back against the wall, shivering in nothing but a t-shirt. you look at him sheepishly.

“get back in here.” you tell him, standing back to give him space to crawl back through. “‘m sorry.” you giggle.

“you’re lucky you’re worth it.” lando teases, stalking towards you and wrapping you in his arms. his skin is cold against yours, and you huff, try and push him off. “hey, i’m cold!” he pouts.

“you know, you’re lucky you’re worth it, i could have just let him murder you.” you reason, looking up at him. your hands slide around him, returning his embrace, warm hands skating up under his shirt.

“you wouldn’t.” he says simply. “i’m way too good in bed.”

“you keep telling yourself that, norris.”

“i don’t need to, you tell me more than enough.”

lando leans down to kiss you, then, nothing all that unusual but it always feels like a step too far, intimate in a way that you two usually aren’t. you kiss him back regardless, because really, you love it. he always tastes minty, divine when you let him lick into your

mouth.

“i believe we were in the middle of something.” he whispers.

“remind me.” you breathe.

and there’s also the time where he’s fucking you in his drivers room, the massage table thudding dully against the wall with every hard thrust.

his race suit is pulled down just enough, your dress bunched around your hips, and he’s slamming into you mercilessly.

the whole thing was a blur, really; you’d always vowed that you would never have sex at a race track, but that promise was old news, now, broken the very second you caught the way he was staring at you. his eyes were hard, unreadable, jaw clenched as he glared at the man talking to you. you were just being friendly, catching up with franco, but lando wouldn’t have it, not after such a shitty race. one harsh snap of his neck towards the mclaren motorhome had you quickly excusing yourself. you knew what it meant.

“you don’t talk to me at the track but you let him?” lando growls, rutting into you wildly. you cling onto the damp material of his racesuit, head thrown back.

“was just saying hello.” you gasp out, opening your eyes to look up at him. he’s staring down at you, angry. it’s hot.

“i don’t wanna see you talking to him. you see how he was looking at you? fucker should know who you belong to.” he hisses, sliding his hand between your legs. “you’re gonna cum for me when i say, okay? and you’re gonna be nice and loud, honey. no holding back.”

“lando i’m-“

“when. i. say.” he cuts you off, punctuating each order with a snap of his hips.

all you can do is take it, dripping all over him. you can hear it, the wet squelch of him filling you up.

“should mark up this pretty neck, yeah? let everyone know that you already belong to someone.”

you barely register what he’s saying, but the words leave you hot, pushing you even closer to the edge and you clamp down around him.

“squeezing me so tight, bet you’ve wanted me all day, huh, honey? saw you looking at me earlier, pretending like you weren’t when i caught you. couldn’t just asked and i would’ve fucked you right then.” lando grunts. you wail out, thrashing against the makeshift bed and he nods, letting you know it’s okay.

“that’s right, pretty girl, that’s it. been so good letting me have you. cum for me, baby.”

baby.

it’s the first time he’s ever called you that. it’s the final push you need.

he collapses into you as he finishes, sweaty curls plush against your bare shoulder. you’re both panting, spent, basking in the moment of silence.

“thank you.” he whispers, sealing it with a kiss against your neck. it tingles, a foreign feeling settling in your belly, shooting through your veins.

“you drove really well.” you reply, quiet. his breathing halts, a self deprecating laugh filling the room.

“don’t do that.”

“what?”

“act like you were watching my race. charles have a great drive, that must have been a lot more interesting.”

“maybe, but i was watching you.”

your words hit him hard. he can’t help but kiss you. you swallow a moan, and a whole heap of feelings that you’re too scared to tackle.

“you better go. will i see you in brazil?”

“yeah, lando. you will.”

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes

liked by: alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

youruser: hola chica 🤭

francisa.cgomes: my love my loveeeee

user21: once again i am asking. why are you here lando? 👀

user56: stop inventing!

alexandrasaintmleux: my beautiful girlies

user66: icon mother slay incredible

PART TWO IS HERE!

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

2K notes · View notes

soapcloth · 12 days ago

Text

Filthy Dog

MMA au -> pro!Soap x PR team!reader

Series CW: 18+ MDNI, possessive behaviour, spitplay, oral oneshot - 2K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

“-I'LL HAVE YER’ HEAD ON A STICK!”

You heard him before you saw him- the blur of a man who was truly more bull than human, and the scraping of chairs. Another headache for you.

You knew this was coming, you knew he wouldn't be happy with this sponsor. You tried to warn them.

“Johnny.” Soap’s manager, Mitch, tried to reason, eyes widening when the fighter’s massive wrapped hands flexed around his freshly-pressed white button down, untucking the bottom from his pants in the process. “-John.” he corrected, coughing awkwardly. When Soap snarled at him, Mitch looked to you with that ‘help clean this mess up’ look.

“No.” Soap bit, jamming a blunt finger into the man’s chest before you could respond to his plea. “This is yer’ problem.”

“We don’t have a problem.” Mitch assured. “Talk to me John, what's up?”

Soap’s eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “Ye’ know damn well. Told you I'd sooner quit than work with Max Energy.”

Mitch’s lips pursed, You were unsure what he expected as the outcome of his greed- probably that he would be able to talk his way out of it. “I don’t remember you saying that." he scoffed. "Come on now, Max is great, don't blow this out of-”

Soap growled in frustration, his fist careening into the folding table beside him; a deadly weapon- a warning shot.

“Tell me, Mitch- why was I-” he snatched the cloth hanging out the pocket of his sweatpants and pushed it into the wiry man’s chest. “-just handed shorts with Max Energy big and bold ‘cross my fucking bits?”

he leaned in, jaw tense. “Ah’m a joke to ye’? I’ll quit right here, right now.”

Mitch called your name like he was summoning a maid and you could only sigh in response. “Soap-” “You say one more word for him and ah’ll knock his fucking teeth in.” he warned, not even turning to look in your direction. Your mouth closed, locked tight.

“John, you quit and all those paying fans out there waiting for you will make sure you never get another damn title again.” Mitch threatened. “They’re not here for some still wet-behind-the-ears openers. They’re sure as shit not here for Kozlov.” he laughed sardonically. “They’re here for you. Don’t ruin this.” ‘-for me’ he seemed to leave out.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Mitch was doing this on purpose, or if he was just flat out stupid.

A deep, rumbling noise echoed around the depths of Soap’s expansive chest, lips curling back like a dog. “I do this fight- then I’m done, Mitch.” Mitch beamed, seemingly only hearing the confirmation he’d be fighting tonight. “-Not for yer’ sorry ass and not for those Max Energy bastards either. For the fans.” Soap grit out.

You could see the gears inside the manager’s head turning as he processed the financial hit he would inevitably take if his golden boy were to leave. “John-” Mitch practically whined.

“Not up for debate.” Soap snapped, shooting him a venomous look- and like a tornado on a storm path, he chucked the shorts in the bin and left, dipping back into his locker room.

Mitch sighed, rubbing at his temples before setting his eyes on you.

“Do something. You’re Personal Relations- go relate personally.” Mitch snapped at you as he began digging into the trash to retrieve the shorts.

“Public Relations.” you corrected, earning a frustrated hiss and a dismissive hand wave.

“Don’t change the subject. Get in there.”

You grimaced. “He’ll kill me!”

“Don't be dramatic and hurry up, he's on soon.” Mitch urged, shooing you off. You made a sour face, heaving yourself up off the padded bench before Mitch could find something else to complain about. “-Wait.” Mitch ordered, as if he was telling a dog to heel. “-Second thought," he hummed "scratch that, let him be pissed for the fight. It’ll do numbers.”

Loathe as you were to admit, Mitch was correct- all three rounds had been polished off like they were light meals. You were next, surely. Your knee bounced anxiously as you awaited the full oncoming force of Soap’s post-cage high. “Fantastic! MacTavish v Kozlov-” Mitch barked out a laugh. “What a joke Kozlov was, does his team think it's amateur hour?”

“Mitch.” you interrupted, knee falling still. “This isn’t really time for celebrations, you're about to lose your current biggest fighter.” He mowed you down with an eye roll “John just needs time to come to his senses, Max Energy contracts like this are once in a lifetime.”

“He’s not-”

The Locker room door nearly flew off its hinges, a beast coated in sweat and blood emerging. “John!” Mitch grinned with outstretched arms that faltered as the big man stormed straight past him.

God. Good god. He was hurtling towards you. Avert your gaze downwards, you coached yourself, you wouldn’t sit well in the stomach of a dog like him.

Bare feet stopped before you. “You.” he chuffed out around the rubber guard in his mouth, drawing your gaze upwards. “Let’s go.” You looked around, not fully processing the situation. Mitch regained his composure. “Y-yes! Go talk with John.” he urged, desperately latching on to any inch of leeway Soap would give. “Get the fuck out, Mitch.” Soap barked, voice distorted by the EVA covering his teeth.”’Fore I rip yer’ head clean off.”

“R-right! We’ll talk later.” he laughed out nervously and tucked tail as Soap stared you down through the eyes of a starving street dog; getting the hell out of dodge. He kept his eyes on Soap as he left- a survival instinct not to show your back to a hungry predator.

��I tried to warn them about the Max deal.” you pressed once alone, hoping to avoid an argument. “Ah’know, bonnie.” he hummed lowly, a sweaty, gloved hand coming to graze your cheek. His sudden, loose tenderness came as a shock to your system. “Yer’ not like those vultures- Ye’ don’t see me as an asset.” His empty blue eyes relaxed, pupils dilating as his other hand raised to cradle the other side of your face, both thumbs brushing the corners of your lashlines. “Aye, Yer’ the good one. So patient with a daft bastard like me.” Your eyelids trembled slightly, his gaze zeroing in on the movement. “You want me like I want you?”

Your eyes darted to your lap, urging Soap to tap at your cheek. “Eyes up- On me.”

“You give the word and ah’ll treat you better than any man ever could. Ah’ll set ye’ right.” his voice dropped to a low boom. “Yer’ the only good thing ‘round me, have been since the moment we met.” You could still remember why you were hired. Soap was on the come up, but couldn't seem to figure out why getting into random scuffs with strangers over little annoyances was a bad thing. Especially for a man with a body that was essentially a lethal dose of muscle and bulk he had been specially trained in how to throw around. Possible fatal outcomes aside, it wasn't making him a man to root for. Every fight needed tension, but Soap wasn't a man built for pyrrhic victories- he was an underdog, biting and gnashing his way through cage after cage; man after man. He was meant to enjoy his hard-earned glory, and because of your work- MMA fans absolutely adored him.

Soap huffed out, head tilting. “Y-yeah- yes, okay.” you whispered, trying not to psych yourself out. Your lips creased, head nodding before you could chicken out.

Pulled into an blurred vortex, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize you were hiked over his shoulder as he lumbered towards his private locker room for the fight, locking the door behind him. Setting you gently on the luxurious industrial sink counter was his last mercy as he ripped off his gloves and clawed at your bottoms and underwear, yanking them off your legs. A freshly-bare and clammy hand braced itself under each thigh as he jacked your legs up and over his broad shoulders, a pleased grunt passing his lips.

He lowered down before cursing and pushing your legs back up against your chest.

You made a small noise, worried you had somehow fucked something up for him which earned you a growl and a headshake as he grunted and spat his mouthguard onto your tummy, sticky saliva coating your skin as it found its resting place before he dove back in, not caring where the plastic ended up.

He pressed open-mouthed kisses at the apex of your thighs, sucking and biting at the skin like he was underfed and hungry. You whined as his teeth kept digging into the sensitive flesh, earning satisfied hums from the man in response, stubble not helping your case. You flexed, legs caging in his head which had seemed to guide him towards your waiting cunt.

The noises he emitted as he lapped at your folds made you feel nauseated and lightheaded, a blushing mess.

A shoulder jerked upwards to support your leg so he could explore the messy folds with a newly-unoccupied hand, but didnt pull his mouth back to give himself the space needed to do so; leaving you reeling at the feeling of such a concentrated area of stimulation.

As if sensing your limits, he bullied his way deeper, growling into your pussy in a way that left black spots at the corner of your vision.

Brutish fingers began to dip into the spot they had been searching for and you could feel his body tense and flex as he practically humped into the space beneath the counter, hips desperately chasing contact it wasn't receiving. He cursed against your flesh, mouth covered in drool and slick as he rose upwards, reminding you of a hulking behemoth as you were forced to accommodate the new position. He gazed down with hazy eyes and a glistening jaw as he focused on jamming whatever he could of his finger into your cunt, twitching and thrusting the digit inside you. As if the stretch wasnt enough to satisfy that itch in the back of his skull, he stuffed in his ring finger next to it, pinky and index bracing his hand as he fucked the fingers into you, transfixed.

You were going to pass out at this rate, his knuckles, malformed from years of improper training and injury- kissed at your inner walls, sending you out of body.

His lids lowered, pace easing as a thought passed his mind. He paused, stretching open the hole as his throat bobbed a few times. Your head clumsily lolled to the side just in time to watch a fat wad of spit drip from his mouth, directly into your slicked pussy. He smiled, happy with himself and savoring the sight for a moment before continuing his ministrations- slower this time, deeper. He angled his hand, thumb massaging at your clit just to see the way you would react.

You didn't disappoint him, the sight of you causing his mouth to part, drool still hanging from his chin. “Fuuuck.” he breathed, drawing the word out. "-What a sight ye' are." His eyes darted back to your cunt, thick brows quirking as he experimentally ground his thumb deeper into your nub, urging a cry to push its way out of your lungs. His teeth glinted as he huffed out a small laugh. “Yer’ being so good to me too, huh?” he rumbled happily, eyes coasting along your stretched folds and it took you a moment to realize he wasn't talking to you. He pulled his fingers out slowly, scooping the mixed fluids up and popping them into his mouth. “Mmh-” he groaned, diving back in to gather more, this time digging deep. the movement finally pushed you over the edge. “Tha’s it.” he praised, dipping his head low to lap his mess beneath your flexing thighs. -

You spent the following half hour under a steaming waterfall shower head with a looming mass tucked against your back, cleaning you up and rutting against you in random incriments- his skin surely emitting steam at a higher rate than the water. He bowed his head into your neck, bunting against you and inhaling the smell of his favourite body wash on your skin. “-Got an offer from 141 Athletics a bit ago, they could take care of it all for us, y'know.” he mumbled, pausing and dragging his nose along your nape. “Yer' coming-" he breathed out. “You work for me, not Mitch- You're coming with me.” you could feel his lips drag up in a sneer against your skin when the man's name left his mouth. In an attempt to comfort him, you tried to turn and face him, but thick arms stopped you, curling under your arms and around your chest, sneaking a feel before pulling you into him, the fatty layer coating his pecs molding against your back like a dream.

You nodded.

“Good.” he sighed.

#batting my lashes at you all. this au makes me feel insane #john soap mactavish #soap #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #x reader #cloth writes

1K notes · View notes