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The One He Couldn’t Let Go | LN4

💋 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N never meant to fall for Lando Norris—the F1 driver with a reputation for flings and flirtations. For nine long months, she kept him at arm’s length, refusing his gifts, dodging his calls, and shielding herself behind sarcasm and silence. But his persistence never wavered. Caught between desire and fear, she struggles to believe a man like him could ever want a woman like her—normal, guarded, imperfect. When jealousy explodes into confrontation and passion gives way to vulnerability, their complicated history threatens to burn everything down… unless she’s brave enough to let herself be loved.

💋 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

💋 word count ━━━━━━━ 13.5k

💋 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, cum on tits

Based on this request.

At an intimidating height, near the top floors, a single unit’s lights glowed brightly against the dark evening. From the outside, one could only imagine the warmth within. Inside that apartment, Y/N stood in her living room, peering down at the cityscape far below.

She could see the flickering reflections of the streetlights dancing on the surface of the river. Her viewpoint was dizzying—a perk of her two-bedroom high-rise apartment. The interior was spacious, the open-plan living room flowing seamlessly into a modern kitchen with sleek countertops and minimalist furniture. The day’s accumulation of tasks was scattered across the dining table: her laptop, paperwork, and a half-finished mug of tea gone cold. An ornate, ribbon-tied bouquet of roses lay beside them.

“Ugh, more flowers,” she whispered under her breath, exhaling sharply. Her gaze traveled over the bouquet’s petals—deep red roses, crisp white lilies, and interspersed baby’s breath that made the arrangement especially lush. A small note card, signed in neat black ink: “Thinking of you. – Lando.”

She bristled. The feeling she experienced in that moment was a heady mix of exasperation, longing, and a strange sense of fear. Nine months of this. Nine months of politely trying to push him away while her heart hammered at every mention of his name. Nine months of hearing that cheerful British accent teasing her, flirting with her, and sending her extravagant gifts without any sign of slowing down. She absently traced the note with her fingertips, fighting the ridiculous urge to crush it in her hand. She couldn’t deny that she adored the gestures. There was no point lying to herself: she loved feeling special. She loved that he singled her out in a world where, by all rights, he should have been so unattainable. And yet…

She let the note slip from her fingers. It fluttered onto the dining table, half-crumpled but still readable. She stared at it, teeth sinking into her lower lip as a swirl of anger and inexplicable yearning circled her mind. She had been fighting this conflict from the moment they met. He was everything she’d sworn to avoid—playboy, stereotypical heartbreaker, and a well-known athlete. The mix of what if and impossible tormented her. She hated how she found him compelling. She hated how his presence filled her with light, yet she simultaneously feared the darkness in his history.

She turned, her hair swishing across her shoulders, and walked into the open-concept kitchen. Flicking on the kettle for fresh tea, she tried to focus on the mundane hum. She pressed a palm against the marbled counter, her mind drifting back, inevitably, to the time they first met.

—

Nine Months Ago

Y/N had just finished her 9-to-5 shift at her first “big girl” job—a role she was both good at and, admittedly, a little bored with. But that day, her friend Pietra had managed to coax her into joining a small get-together in Soho.

“Come on,” Pietra had insisted. “You need to meet my friends; they’re loads of fun. You need a break from that strict schedule of yours.”

“What do you mean by ‘my schedule’? It’s a normal job, Pietra,” Y/N had grumbled, but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. She was shy and often fiercely protective of her boundaries, but she still went where her close friends urged her to go. After all, she didn’t have that many friends —just a small circle. Reluctantly, she tagged along.

The venue was a warm, tucked-away lounge bar. Fairy lights dangled from the ceiling, music bumped softly, and the chatter of patrons created a pleasant hum. That was when she first saw him—Lando Norris—glancing her way from a group of people near the back. She recognized him instantly: the messy curls of his hair, the bright, mischievous eyes, that athletic build dressed in a stylish black jacket. She was aware of his presence in the sense that one is aware of a flame in a darkened room; he seemed to radiate an effortless energy.

She remembered the moment heat bloomed in her cheeks. She’d heard of Lando Norris—the famed McLaren driver, the rumored playboy. He wasn’t just attractive; he was enthralling, like a magnet pulling the air from her lungs.

When Pietra introduced them, he was polite but also alarmingly direct. He locked eyes with Y/N, grin spreading on his face as though he’d discovered some precious secret that nobody else had.

“So you’re Y/N,” he had said, leaning in close enough that his breath was warm against her cheek. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She tried to laugh it off, stammering that she was pretty boring—just a regular girl working a 9-5. He didn’t buy that for a second. He teased her. For the entire evening, he barely left her side. His hand lingered at her lower back each time he guided her to the bar to get drinks. Their conversation was laced with playful banter, her attempts to protect herself with sarcasm, and his unwavering interest, as though enthralled by every small detail of her life. He asked about her hobbies, her taste in music. She, in return, found it difficult to breathe under that intense stare. When the evening ended, Y/N left with a phone number in her contacts that she didn’t entirely know what to do with.

That was how it began.

—

Present Day

The kettle beeped, snapping Y/N out of her trance. She hastily poured water into a fresh mug, wincing slightly when a bit of boiling water splashed and burned her skin. She muttered a quick curse under her breath. The small pain was a reminder that she was here, grounded, in her apartment, in her life. Not in that memory of meeting Lando.

He was still the same. From that first moment, he made it exceptionally clear—painfully clear—that he wanted her. She’d tried ignoring him, tried politely brushing off his invites to fancy dinners or events, tried refusing his extravagant gifts of designer shoes and dresses. It only fueled him. She never quite told him no in harsh terms; she wanted to, but she could never muster it. A part of her liked that attention. Another part was terrified.

Leaving her mug on the counter, she wandered back into the living area. She paused at the floor-to-ceiling windows again, half expecting to see some reflection that would reveal the tumult swirling in her mind. Instead, she watched the gleaming lights of the city. She pulled her plush cardigan tighter around herself. Her body was warm but her insides felt cold with confusion, with a nagging, pulsing ache for something she didn’t think she could ever have or deserve.

Even though she was young, she sometimes felt older than her years. She had standards for the kind of man she could actually see herself with—someone who shared her goals. Stability. Honesty. In her mind, Lando was the polar opposite. He was glamorous, chaotic. He was rumored to have slept with countless women. And if even half those rumors were true, that was more than enough for her to keep him at arm’s length. She wasn’t a prude, but she saw that kind of behavior as a lack of self-control. She hated the thought of being just another notch on his bedpost—another fleeting woman he’d meet in a club and forget by morning.

Her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a text. She recognized the name, and her pulse pounded.

Lando: “Did you get my flowers?”

She stared at the screen, sipping her tea. Her immediate reaction was to ignore him. But, ignoring him never worked. Not fully.

She typed, paused, deleted. Eventually, she settled on: “Yes, you didn’t have to.”

A bubble popped up almost immediately, showing he was typing.

Lando: “But I wanted to.”

She clenched her jaw. If only desire were enough for her to trust him—to let herself want him the way she truly did. Glancing at her reflection in the window, she tried to see the woman Lando claimed to adore. She wanted to be confident, but she rarely was—at least not around him. The idea of him comparing her to the typical bikini-clad models on his Instagram feed made her break out in anxiety. And yet, he was so persistent. Why couldn’t he be the typical player who moved on easily?

Shaking her head, she texted: “I appreciate them, but I don’t want you wasting your money.”

Lando: “I’ll always do it if it makes you smile. Are you free tomorrow night? I’m in London again.”

Her heart stuttered. It always did. That unwavering determination in him. He came to London so often for business, for sponsor commitments, for friends, for his family. He always tried to see her. She wanted to see him, but fear overshadowed her longing.

She typed back a response she’d practiced often: “I’m not sure. I might be busy.”

Another immediate reply. “You’re always busy. Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be waiting.”

His words were simple, but they carried weight. “I’ll be waiting.” She couldn’t help but replay that phrase in her head, as though he were whispering it against her ear.

—

The Next Day

Y/N was perched on her living room couch, phone in hand, finishing up a Zoom call for work. Her legs were curled beneath her, and a loose T-shirt paired with leggings—her usual weekend attire—clung lightly to her form. She was comfortable, or at least she should have been, but she felt on edge.

Once she clicked off the call, she exhaled a sigh of relief. It was a Saturday, and though she was often used to the standard “9 to 5, Monday to Friday,” there were occasional weekend tasks that cropped up. She scrolled absentmindedly through her phone, ignoring the swirl of posts about Lando on social media. His fans loved him, especially the female fans. Photos of him with random women at clubs made their rounds more times than she could count. Even though it was rumored that he’d calmed down in recent years, the scars of rumor still trailed him. She’d read the gossip about how he used to message unknown girls, strangers, looking for a quick fling whenever he was traveling for races. The idea of it made her stomach twist with disgust and jealousy.

A ping from her group chat with Pietra and a few other friends lit the screen.

Pietra: “We’re meeting for coffee near Tower Bridge. Lando’s coming too. Wanna join?”

The moment she saw Lando’s name, a spike of adrenaline made her drop her phone. It tumbled to the carpet. She picked it up swiftly, chewing her lip. Her heart hammered. She had two choices: go and endure the swirl of tension, or avoid him again. She typed, paused, frowned, then typed again.

Y/N: “Sure, I could use some air. I’ll be there.”

She braced herself. No matter how much she denied it, she craved his presence like a moth to a flame.

–

It was late morning, and the area around Tower Bridge buzzed with tourists. Y/N arrived at the spot Pietra had texted her earlier.

She spotted Pietra first, already waving in her direction. Y/N forced a small smile and walked over to the group, her stomach tightening with nerves and anticipation. Off to the side, hands tucked into his pockets, stood Lando. He wore a casual black hoodie and jeans, his curls slightly messy, the corners of his mouth lifting the moment his eyes landed on her.

“You came,” he said softly, stepping forward. His voice carried that blend of relief and excitement that sent her heart into overdrive.

“Yeah. I was free,” she answered, trying to keep her tone neutral. She sensed his gaze trailing over her, as if he were filing away the details of her attire, her mood, the subtle flush in her cheeks. An invisible current of tension seemed to crackle between them.

Pietra cleared her throat. “Should we order?”

Lando tore his gaze away from Y/N and nodded, “Sure.” But she felt the way his eyes flicked back to her, how he lingered near her side when they moved to the counter. Despite her best efforts not to, her awareness of him was total.

They settled at a table outdoors, bright umbrellas casting soft shade over the group. The friend group chatted easily, laughter flowing between sips of coffee and bites of pastry. Y/N remained a little tense, contributing here and there, sipping her latte slowly as she listened.

Yet…he seemed utterly entranced. He spoke to everyone, but his attention always gravitated back to her. Whenever he cracked a joke, his eyes sought her reaction first. Whenever he shifted in his seat, his leg brushed against hers. Her pulse jumped each time. She tried to keep her breathing steady, tried to keep any sign of giddiness off her face.

Eventually, Pietra, Max, and the others peeled off to stroll down the riverwalk. Y/N was left sipping the last of her latte beside Lando, who silently took the seat across from her. The noise of the surrounding tourists faded into the background as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the small table.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls again,” he said, not accusing but definitely not thrilled.

She stiffened. “I’ve been busy.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “Too busy to text back?”

“Sometimes,” she replied coldly. Her tone was sharper than she’d intended. A flicker of hurt skimmed across his face, quickly replaced by a careful mask of neutrality.

“I—” he began, then paused, searching for words. “I just… I still want to see you. I was thinking maybe dinner tonight, or we could do something else if you don’t like fancy dinners—”

She cut him off, voice low and tight with barely contained frustration. “Why don’t you give up?”

The faintest flicker of anger ignited in his eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Because,” she hissed, suddenly aware of her own rising irritation, “it’s pointless. All these months, me pushing you away—none of it has made you stop. And I—God, Lando, I don’t do…casual flings. So if that’s what you’re after, just quit.”

He stared at her as though she’d slapped him. He blinked, expression twisting in something halfway between confusion and raw frustration. “You think that’s all I want?”

She set her cup down with more force than necessary. “That’s all you ever had with all those other girls, wasn’t it?” She intended the words as a challenge, but they came out drenched in resentment and, worse, hurt. It was her deepest fear, the one that tormented her in quiet hours: that he would treat her the same as everyone else.

His jaw clenched. “Stop believing everything you read. I know I’ve… I’ve not been a saint in the past. But I never cheated on anyone. And as for random flings—fine, that was years ago, when I was still trying to figure myself out. I’m not proud of it. But I’m not that person anymore.”

She folded her arms, refusing to meet his eyes. “People don’t just change overnight, Lando.”

He exhaled sharply. “I’m not asking you to trust me blindly. I’m just… I’m just trying to show you that I want you. God, you make me want things I’ve never wanted with anyone else. Does that really mean nothing to you?”

It felt like a lightning bolt of adrenaline speared through her. Her mind screamed that he was telling the truth, that there was sincerity in his voice that melted her guard. But the other half of her mind whirled with all the old rumors, all her insecurities, all the nights she’d lain in bed, scrolling through social media, seeing him partying in clubs with women who pressed themselves against him. Cheating rumors. Her chest constricted.

She stood abruptly, trying to keep her tone cold. “I told you. I don’t do casual. And I don’t think you’d give me anything else.”

His anger flared. He shot to his feet, almost toppling the chair behind him. A few people glanced their way. Leaning in close, he said, voice pitched low, “Stop deciding who I am before you even give me a chance.”

The rawness in his voice nearly undid her. Pain laced through her chest. She wanted to just fold into him, bury her face in his shoulder, pretend those years of rumors didn’t exist. But she couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” she managed, stepping back. “I can’t.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the half-full cup and his stony gaze behind. Her pulse thundered the entire time she headed home, the world blurring around the edges, tears prickling her eyes in a dizzying swirl of guilt and fear.

–

That evening, Y/N was sprawled on her couch, aimlessly flipping channels on the TV while her thoughts spiraled. She replayed that confrontation with Lando by the café at least a dozen times, dissecting every line, every half-hidden tremor of emotion in his voice. The regret was strong. She truly liked him—liked him to a painful degree. She yearned for him so badly she almost found it difficult to breathe. And yet, she was terrified. The idea of trusting him, and having it all fall apart, shook her to her core.

Her phone pinged once more.

Unknown Number: “Hey, it’s Damien. Pietra gave me your number. She mentioned you might be up for a date sometime?”

Y/N jolted upright, reading the text with surprise. She vaguely recalled Pietra mentioning a coworker’s friend who was single and looking to meet new people. She’d brushed it off at the time. But now, the idea of distracting herself from Lando’s incessant presence held a strong appeal. Maybe this was the way to break the cycle of longing.

Y/N: “Hi Damien, yes, Pietra told me about you. I’m free tomorrow if you want to meet?”

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. Letting out a breath, she pulled a blanket around her. This was what she needed, right? A normal guy, with no baggage, no string of humiliating rumors trailing him. She forced herself to ignore the pang of guilt in her stomach, that unshakable sense of betrayal for wanting to see someone else even though she was in no official relationship with Lando. She tried to rationalize it: Lando was the one who was truly unattainable, not her. The heart has to protect itself somehow.

It was the next day—a Sunday, bleak clouds gathering overhead. The wind rattled the windows of her high-rise. Y/N was in the middle of a laundry marathon, folding clothes in her living room, the TV chattering about random gossip in the background. A ring from the door buzzer startled her. She peeked at the digital display to see who it was. Her breath caught when she recognized the curly-haired figure looking resolutely into the camera. Lando.

Her first thought was to ignore him. But a burst of adrenaline had her pressing the intercom. “What do you want?” she asked, voice muffled by the speaker.

He looked up at the camera. She saw from the slight droop in his shoulders that he was determined but…vulnerable. His voice came through, a bit crackly. “I need to see you. Please.”

Her heart hammered. With a heavy exhale, she pressed the button to unlock the main door. She might regret it. But she needed closure, or something. She left the front door of her apartment ajar. Moments later, he stepped in, carrying a bouquet of pink peonies this time—her actual favorite. She’d offhandedly mentioned her love of peonies weeks ago. She swallowed the knot forming in her throat.

“You have to stop with the flowers,” she said by way of greeting.

He set them on a nearby shelf, ignoring her complaint. “I’m not apologizing for sending you flowers. It’s the least I can do for you.”

She stood there, arms crossing over her chest, vaguely aware of how her T-shirt and leggings did nothing to hide the shape of her hips and legs. She felt vulnerable letting him see her like this, so casual and undone. But he didn’t seem to notice anything but her eyes. Stepping closer, he spoke in a quiet, tense voice.

“Look,” he began, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to snap. I just—seeing how you look at me, like I’m the worst person in the world, it kills me. You never give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Her throat tightened. Anger, guilt, and longing all warred within her. “You haven’t exactly proven me wrong. Every time I check social media, there’s a rumor, or a photo—”

His eyes blazed. “That’s not me anymore. Do you know how old some of those photos are? You think I’m hooking up with random girls at clubs while trying to chase you for nine months? I have no idea how to prove I’m not lying except to say it outright: I’m not sleeping around. I’m not cheating. I don’t want to be with them, I want to be with you.”

The sincerity in his voice was so intense it shook her defenses. “But I can’t just…unhear the rumors. You had that reputation for so long, Lando.”

He drew in a breath, his frustration palpable. “I know. But people change. I’m not going to apologize forever for my past mistakes. I’ll own them. And you can ask me anything. Let me show you who I am now.”

Her eyes darted to the side. She felt the press of her own heartbeat rattling through her ears. When she didn’t answer, he took a bold step forward, bridging the small distance between them. His gaze flicked down, glimpsing the way her full hips curved into her waist. She saw that flicker of admiration in his eyes. She braced herself, expecting a sexual comment, but it never came. Instead, he reached out carefully, like he was half afraid she would flinch.

He gently touched the side of her face, fingertips grazing her cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a sizzling jolt through her. She swallowed, her throat dry, every nerve in her body going taut.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and rough, “you’ve got to give me a chance.”

Her walls trembled. She wanted to push him away, but the swirl of desire in her belly was strong, overwhelming. She found herself leaning in slightly, like a magnet.

“God, you’re such a jerk sometimes,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, though it lacked conviction. Anger and longing clashed in her tone.

His lips quirked into a small, bittersweet smile. “But you still like me,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question.

A heartbeat passed—then another. Before she knew it, his mouth was on hers, the kiss hard and urgent. She gasped, her body stiffening in shock before melting into him. The laundry in her arms tumbled to the floor. His hand cupped her cheek, drawing her closer, and she tilted her head, letting him deepen the kiss. The taste of his mouth—coffee and mint—erased every rational thought in her head for a thrilling, reckless moment.

Her arms found their way around his shoulders. His hand slipped from her cheek down to the small of her back, pressing her into him. She felt the warmth of his body, the electric tension that had brewed for months now set free. His chest rose and fell rapidly against hers.

But then, like a jolt of lightning, the fear snapped back into her. She broke the kiss, pushing him away with trembling hands. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and he stood there, panting.

“Shit,” she mumbled, stumbling a step back. “I can’t do this.”

“Y/N,” he said, voice husky. “Don’t—”

She shook her head. She couldn’t even form words. She just fled to the door and swung it open, voice trembling, “You should leave.”

He hesitated, heartbreak flickering in his eyes, but he eventually stepped out. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, she felt tears welling, unstoppable. She sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands.

–

In the days that followed, Y/N avoided every text and call from Lando. She even avoided Pietra’s invites, terrified he might show up. She drowned herself in work, volunteering for extra tasks at the office. She took long shifts, poured over spreadsheets, answered emails into the late hours of the night. She hammered her free time with exercise. She tried everything to chase the memory of his kiss away. She was furious at herself for letting it happen, furious at the swirl of contradictory emotions she couldn’t control.

She told herself that was it. She couldn’t let it happen again.

But deep down, she knew she was lying. The way his lips felt on hers haunted her. She replayed the second their mouths connected, how her heart soared with a new kind of adrenaline. The crash afterward was brutal, leaving her feeling hollow.

–

One week later, Y/N found herself in a quiet, upscale restaurant near Covent Garden, fidgeting with her napkin. Damien sat across from her, a kind smile on his face, conversation polite and gentle. He was the epitome of normal—a stable job in finance, an easy sense of humor, no swirling rumors or paparazzi following him. She forced herself to pay attention to him and not think about Lando.

But every time she noticed Damien’s neat, short hair and pressed collared shirt, she missed Lando’s messy curls and casual hoodies. Every time Damien asked a sweet, thoughtful question, she imagined Lando’s witty, borderline-arrogant grin. This was torture in a different sense. She forced herself to laugh at Damien’s jokes, but the laughter sounded hollow to her own ears.

“So,” Damien said, leaning forward. “Tell me more about your job, about you. Pietra said you moved here?”

She nodded. “Yes, over 5 years ago. I, well, my life is pretty routine. Wake up, commute, work, come home. Maybe watch Netflix or read. Nothing exciting.” She tried to laugh it off.

Damien smiled. “Routine isn’t bad. I like reliable people.”

She forced a polite smile back. She was about to respond when she felt a distinct presence behind her. That comforting sense of tension that always accompanied… him. Slowly, she turned her head. Her heart lurched in her chest. Standing near the entrance to the restaurant, accompanied by two of his mates, was Lando. The world seemed to stutter for a second. He was scanning the room—probably looking for a table or maybe meeting someone. And then he saw her. 

His entire posture stiffened. Their eyes locked, the swirl of unspoken emotion instantly thickening the air. She felt a spike of panic. She prayed he wouldn’t come over, wouldn’t make a scene. Yet part of her wanted him to. Maybe because she longed to see him again.

He shot her a look that asked a thousand questions. She could almost read the accusation in his gaze. She averted her eyes, turning back to Damien, whose brow furrowed with confusion as he followed the direction of her gaze to see Lando.

“Oh,” Damien said, not quite sure what was happening. “Is that a friend of yours?”

She cleared her throat. “Sort of. We… we move in the same circle,” she lied, or half-lied. “Let’s just ignore him.” She forced a laugh.

But ignoring Lando Norris was impossible. Out of the corner of her vision, she watched him murmur something to his friends and stride purposefully toward her table. Her stomach dropped. Damien noticed her sudden tension.

“Y/N? You okay?”

She tried to smile, but the attempt was pitiful. Before she could speak, Lando stood at the edge of their table, hands in his pockets, face set in a carefully neutral mask. She heard the quickness of his breath, saw the faint flush in his cheeks that told her he was not calm at all.

“Hey,” he said, voice clipped. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Damien, noticing the tension, stood from his seat politely and offered his hand. “Hello, I’m Damien. I’m Y/N’s—”

“Friend,” she interjected too quickly, her cheeks blazing. She avoided Lando’s gaze, focusing on her water glass.

Damien hesitated, confusion scrawled on his features. “Yes, well, friend for now.”

Lando’s jaw ticked, and he slid his eyes to Y/N. She could feel the wave of anger rolling off him. A tight, forced smile appeared on his face as he took Damien’s hand, giving it a quick shake. “Lando. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Damien replied, though he seemed unsure about the whole situation.

Her heart hammered so loud she was surprised they couldn’t hear it. Lando parted his lips, hesitated, then said in a low voice, “Hope you both enjoy your meal.” He turned to her, eyes burning with unspoken frustration. “We’ll catch up another time, yeah?”

She nodded stiffly, feeling her throat constrict. “Sure,” she managed. Then he was gone, joining his friends at a table across the restaurant. The man was too well-known to cause a scene in a public place with prying eyes, but the tension was thick enough to slice through with a knife.

Damien slowly sank back into his seat, giving her a concerned glance. “Is everything okay? You two seemed…tense.”

She forced another laugh that sounded high-pitched and desperate to her own ears. “We have a bit of a… complicated history.” She tried to wave it off, picking up the menu. But her eyes couldn’t seem to stop flicking to the side, drawn to the figure of Lando, who was now sitting with his friends at a table partially in view. She felt him glancing at her. The weight of that gaze pinned her down. Her appetite vanished.

Over the course of dinner, she tried to maintain a steady conversation with Damien. She forced herself to nod politely at whatever he was saying, some anecdote about a recent trip to Ireland. She tried to laugh when appropriate. But her mind was wholly consumed by Lando. The tightness of her chest only worsened each time she felt his eyes on her.

Finally, Damien noticed her distraction. He followed her gaze, turning to see Lando, who was tapping his foot impatiently beneath his table, occasionally whispering to his two friends. One friend seemed to be trying to calm him down. Y/N swallowed, bracing herself as she realized that every fiber of her being was screaming at her. This was too intense, too complicated, too painful. She was trying so hard to maintain composure.

Damien, clearing his throat, leaned forward, voice gentle. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and…that guy, but if you need to talk about it, I’m here to listen. I like you. I’d like to keep seeing you. But if your heart’s somewhere else—”

She flinched. “It’s not. I… Lando and I aren’t dating. It’s complicated. But I’m here on this date with you,” she said, trying to cling to normalcy.

Damien offered a sad smile. “Yeah. But I’m not blind to the tension.” He gestured softly toward Lando. “If you have unresolved feelings with him, you need to figure that out, Y/N. It’s not fair to either of us otherwise.”

She nodded, feeling tears prickling. She didn’t want to break down in front of a near stranger. “You’re right,” she said, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

Damien’s gaze was kind. “No worries. Let’s just finish dinner. We can talk afterwards.”

She offered him a grateful half-smile. As she forced down a few bites of her meal, she avoided looking at Lando. But near the end, she heard a scraping of chairs. He and his friends were leaving. Unable to control herself, she glanced up to catch him staring at her with an expression of stony, confused anger. It shot a pang of guilt straight through her. Then, without a word, he walked out. The door swung behind him, leaving her with an ache deep in her gut.

–

It was later that night, and Y/N was beyond exhausted—physically from the clack of her heels on concrete all evening, and emotionally from the drain of a lukewarm date. She’d said goodbye to Damien just outside her building, gently declining his request for a second date. Although she’d been polite, her thoughts had circled only one person the entire evening. Her heart grew heavier with every step she took toward the large glass doors of her high-rise. The cold night air bit at her cheeks, and she wanted nothing more than to escape into the warmth of her living room.

As she neared the entrance, punching in the code to unlock the main doors, a figure shifted in the shadows beside one of the pillars. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she nearly dropped her keys. She drew in a sharp breath.

From the darkness, Lando stepped out, leaning heavily against the glass. There was a ferocity in his gaze she’d never quite seen before. His arms were folded over his chest, but the tension rippling through his shoulders was almost visible. He looked like he was fighting a battle just to keep himself from exploding.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she blurted, voice shaky with a mix of adrenaline and nerves. A dozen alarm bells rang in her head—she’d never seen him look this furious, this…possessive.

He didn’t move from his spot. “Sorry,” he muttered, but there was nothing apologetic in his tone. “I knew you’d be home eventually.”

She tried to brush past him into the lobby, pressing the key fob firmly against the reader. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, forcing as much calm as she could muster. The glass doors slid open with a hiss, revealing the polished marble of the foyer.

He followed her inside, shoulders practically quivering with restrained anger. “We need to talk.”

The intensity in his eyes made her throat tighten. She hugged her arms around herself. “About what?” she spat, stepping toward the elevator. She was angry—angry with him for continuing to show up unannounced, angry with herself for the guilt she carried. She jabbed the elevator button, watching the numbers tick down from the top floor. “I have nothing to say to you.”

He slid into the elevator with her right as the doors closed, leaving them trapped in that small space. She felt his presence like static electricity, filling the air. If jealousy were a fire, he’d be an inferno right now—scorching everything in reach.

He turned, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. “About you going on a date with some other guy, when you damn well know there’s something between us.”

His voice was low, dangerous. She’d never heard such palpable fury from him. It made her heart pound wildly. She scoffed, fixing her gaze on the metallic elevator doors. “You and I have nothing,” she said icily, though her voice quivered at the end. “I’ve told you a thousand times: it wouldn’t work. But you refuse to back off. So yes, Lando, I went on a date.”

His eyes blazed as though her words poured fuel on his rage. His hand twitched at his side—she half-expected him to slam his fist against the elevator wall. “Why?” he growled, struggling to keep his volume low. “Because you think he’ll be more stable? Because you think I can’t be serious about you? That I can’t commit? Or because you wanted to hurt me, rub it in my face that you can walk away any time you want?”

She whipped her head around, eyes blazing with her own anger. “Don’t twist my intentions,” she snapped. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just—I don’t think you can give me what I need. You’re Lando Norris, the guy plastered all over social media with a harem of women. Even if half of it isn’t true, how am I supposed to know which half?”

The elevator dinged, but it felt more like a bomb dropping. When the doors slid open to her floor, she stormed out into the hallway, rummaging through her purse for her keys. He followed closely on her heels, the anger rolling off him like crashing waves.

She finally snagged the key, her entire body trembling with the aftershocks of their argument. “Just go home, Lando,” she muttered, not daring to look at him. She was terrified of what she might see there—hurt, or worse, a brokenness that mirrored her own.

“Not until we settle this,” he hissed. Before she could argue, he stepped in front of her door, effectively blocking it. She stared at his chest for a second, realizing she had to physically push him aside if she wanted to run. The tension in the air was suffocating.

With a furious huff, she shoved the key into the lock and shouldered past him. He slipped inside right behind her. The door slammed shut, and an uneasy silence filled the dimly lit entryway of her apartment. The glow of the city outside cast faint patterns on the wall, but the atmosphere felt like a tinderbox seconds from erupting.

“Fine,” she bit out, tossing her bag onto the kitchen counter with a little too much force. “Talk.”

He ran both hands through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, that wild, jealous energy crackling around him. “You keep spitting out all these reasons you can’t be with me,” he began, voice trembling with a mixture of rage and desperation. “All these rumors—you act like I’m the same reckless kid I was years ago. But I’m not.”

She pressed her arms tighter around herself, trying to combat the swirl of adrenaline. “How am I supposed to believe that?” she demanded, voice cracking. “The cheating rumors. The flings. The endless girls in your DMs. You want to stand there and tell me it’s all lies?”

He let out a harsh bark of laughter, frustration strangling the sound. “Not all lies. But the cheating—yes, those were lies. The hooking up—fine, it happened, but not when I had a girlfriend. I was lonely and stupid, and yeah, I messed around. But not anymore.” His fists clenched at his sides, as though the words themselves hurt coming out. “Ever since you walked into my life, I’ve done nothing but try to show you that I’ve changed. I’ve never cheated on you, never even let myself think of anyone else. But you don’t see that, do you? Because you’d rather believe I’m—”

She cut him off with a bitter laugh, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t turn this on me. I’ve watched pictures of you partying with girls, read about all the nights you went clubbing while your ex was nowhere to be found. How do I know you won’t do that to me, too?”

His eyes flared with hurt. He drew in a ragged breath, then pounded his fist once, softly yet furiously, against the side of her sofa. “Stop. Stop punishing me for something I didn’t do. You want to know the truth? I hated those rumors. I hated that I didn’t do enough to shut them down. But I was too caught up in my life—racing, traveling, trying to please everyone. I can’t change that now. But I would never treat you like that.”

She sniffed, tears brimming, voice wavering. “Then how do I know—”

“You don’t,” he interrupted, voice cracking on the edges. “You either trust me or you don’t.”

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other. Her tears clung to her lashes, and the anguish in his expression was brutal. The space between them thrummed with pent-up longing and towering anger, their conflicting emotions practically vibrating in the dimly lit living room.

“That’s the problem,” she whispered finally, wiping at her eyes. “I’m scared. You’re Lando Norris. You could have anyone, and—God, look at me. I’m never going to be those girls. Never. I can’t compete with them.”

He laughed again, but it was devoid of humor, laced with sarcasm and heartbreak. “Compete with them? Compete for what? They mean nothing to me, Y/N. Nothing. Half the pictures you see are just me stuck in a club for a sponsor event or forced to smile next to models at a photoshoot. Do you think I’m sending them designer shoes or spending every spare moment trying to figure out how to get them to give me a chance?”

She closed her eyes, tears leaking down her cheeks. She hated feeling weak in front of him, but the swirl of rage and longing was too strong to contain. “You could just be infatuated. Maybe I’m the new chase, that’s all.”

Something inside him snapped at those words. He let out a sharp expletive, stepping forward, crowding her against the back of the couch. His eyes burned, voice trembling with an anger that threatened to boil over. “You really think so little of me? You think I’d be standing here like a bloody idiot, night after night, sending you flowers and calling you, chasing you across the city—just because I’m bored? How can you not see how furious it makes me, seeing you with someone else, even the idea of someone else, when I’ve done nothing but try to show you that you’re the only one I want?”

She flinched at the raw intensity in his voice. Her heart thundered, torn between fear and a twisted sense of relief that at least he cared this much. “I just—” she started, but her words failed her.

He grabbed her wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough that she couldn’t ignore him. “Do you have any idea how jealous I was tonight?” he practically snarled. “I’ve been pacing around your building, counting the hours, imagining you laughing with him, letting him touch you the way I want to—” His voice broke off, a tremor running through his shoulders. “It drove me insane.”

She swallowed hard, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Why?” she rasped. “Why do you even care?”

“Why?” he echoed. He let out a ragged breath, finally loosening his hold on her. His gaze flicked over her face, taking in every tear, every shaky breath. “Because I—” He closed his eyes, trembling. “Because I’m falling in love with you, Y/N. And it’s driving me out of my mind that you can’t see that.”

It was more of a confession than she’d ever expected, especially with so much anger behind it. She felt her whole world tilt. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her heart hammered an erratic beat.

He stared at her, eyes a storm of rage and vulnerability. “So go ahead,” he said, voice cracking. “Yell at me. Tell me you don’t believe me. Tell me all the reasons we won’t work. But don’t you dare say I don’t care. Because I do. Too damn much.”

She choked back a sob, clinging to the edge of the couch for support. “Lando—”

He moved closer, so close she felt the heat radiating from him, the raw tension. In the hush of the apartment, their frantic breaths seemed deafening. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. She didn’t know if it was the weight of his words or the sheer presence of him that shattered her defenses, but something inside her cracked wide open.

He brought a hand up, shaking slightly, and brushed the tears from her cheek. His touch was unexpectedly gentle given the fury in his eyes. “For God’s sake,” he muttered, voice tight, “just let me in. Let me show you.”

Her tears flowed freely now, a twisted mix of heartbreak and an ache for him she could no longer deny. Her lips trembled, trying to form a response, but all that came was a shaky sob. His breath hitched as if her pain sliced right through him. Suddenly, he couldn’t hold back; he looped an arm around her waist and yanked her against his chest, cradling her as if she might shatter. She stiffened at first, the shock of his physical closeness overwhelming. But then her fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, and she buried her face there, letting the dam break.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered fiercely into her hair. His voice still vibrated with anger, but it was undercut by raw desperation. “I’m so fucking jealous I can’t think straight, but I— I don’t want to lose you.”

She cried against him, letting the emotions flood her. Her tears soaked into his clothes. Her body shook as she let out all the doubts, the insecurities, the fear of being betrayed or left behind. He just held her, pressing rough kisses into her hair, letting his own ragged breaths warm the top of her head.

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled back enough to look up at him. His eyes were bloodshot with pent-up emotion. She could still sense the roiling jealousy and frustration coursing through him like a living thing.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’m sorry for always pushing you away. I’m sorry for—”

He silenced her with a searing kiss, lips crashing onto hers in a fierce, desperate claim. She gasped, momentarily stunned by the sheer force of it. Then a molten wave of longing shot through her, and she melted into him. Her arms came up around his neck, tangling in his messy curls. She sensed all that anger still there, fueling each press of his mouth, each frantic swipe of his tongue. But underneath it was something deeper—love, need, a yearning she recognized in herself.

He broke away only to rasp, “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Just—don’t run. Not anymore.”

She answered by pulling him back in, their kiss turning hot and frantic. Her tears mixed with the taste of his mouth, and she felt his hands roam over her waist, her hips, dragging her impossibly close. She moaned against his lips, the press of their bodies kindling an urgency that had been building for months.

Their breaths grew ragged as he maneuvered her backward until her knees hit the couch. She sank onto it, drawing him with her. He stared down at her, chest heaving, eyes heavy-lidded with desire—and still, that anger flickered at the edges. But now, his fury morphed into a desperate need to claim her, to prove himself in a way words never could.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, voice throaty and laced with jealousy so thick it almost hurt. “Tell me you want me, not him, not anyone else. Me.”

She cupped his face between her trembling hands. “God, Lando…I do,” she whispered, tears still wet on her cheeks. “It’s always been you.”

That was all he needed. His mouth crashed onto hers once more, their kisses feverish and unrestrained. She tugged at his hoodie, pulling it up until he helped yank it over his head. Her fingers immediately splayed across the warm skin of his back, feeling the tense muscles there. He groaned at her touch, sliding a hand under her blouse to stroke the small of her back, his calloused fingertips igniting every nerve ending.

Their kiss turned hungrier, the taste of him filling her senses. She arched against him, pressing her hips up into his. His lips trailed fiery kisses along her jaw, dipping to her neck, where he bit down softly, making her gasp. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

His voice shook against her skin. “I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else,” he confessed, jealousy clinging to every syllable. “It drives me mad.”

Her breath hitched. Somehow, hearing how worked up he was, how all-consuming his feelings were, stoked her own desire. “I’m sorry,” she managed again, though it came out in a ragged whisper. “I’m— God, I’m sorry.”

He answered with another bruising kiss, leaving no space for apologies. His hand slid higher under her blouse, caressing the curve of her waist, tracing the outline of her ribcage. Her body quivered, half from the adrenaline spike, half from the sudden waves of pleasure.

Time blurred as they gave in to months of tension. She’d dreamed of this, yearned for it. But never had she imagined the raw intensity—especially not with him practically shaking from jealousy and fear of losing her. Every whispered plea, every frantic movement, carried that undercurrent of anger and heartbreak that now fed straight into a spiraling passion.

Lando’s lips claimed hers with a ferocity that left her breathless, his hands gripping her hips as if she might vanish if he loosened his hold. The taste of him was intoxicating—spiced with desperation, laced with a jealousy she could feel vibrating through every inch of his body. He pulled back only to trail kisses across her face—her cheeks, her jawline, her neck—each one a searing mark of his obsession. His mouth was everywhere, and she could barely think, let alone resist.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling as his lips brushed the sensitive spot beneath her ear. His breath hitched, and she felt the tension in his shoulders, the restrained fury and longing that had been building for months.

“I’ve waited too long for this,” he growled against her skin, his hands sliding up her sides to grip the hem of her blouse. With a sharp tug, he pulled it over her head, leaving her in nothing but her bra. The cool air hit her skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he took her in.

His hands slid over her shoulders, down her arms, then back up to cup her face. He kissed her again, softer this time, but no less urgent. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, wiping away the remnants of her tears. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

Her breath caught as he moved lower, his lips brushing her collarbone, her shoulders, every inch of her exposed skin. His hands fumbled with the clasp of her bra, and she arched into him, her heart pounding as the fabric fell away. The moment her breasts were bare, his eyes darkened with hunger.

“God, I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. His hands cupped her, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her lips. He smiled—a wicked, possessive thing—before lowering his head to take one into his mouth.

The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. His tongue swirled around her nipple, teasing and sucking, and she tangled her fingers in his curls, pulling him closer. He groaned against her skin, the sound vibrating through her chest, and she felt her hips arch involuntarily.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

He pulled back just enough to look up at her, his lips swollen, his eyes blazing. “Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice rough. “Tell me no one else gets to touch you like this.”

She could barely think, let alone form words, but she managed to nod, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m yours,” she whispered. “Only yours.”

That was all he needed. He dove back in, his mouth claiming her other breast with the same intensity. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin as if he were memorizing her. She writhed beneath him, her moans filling the room, her hands clutching at his back as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

He shifted, his lips trailing down her sternum, over her ribs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands squeezed her hips, fingers digging into her skin, and she whimpered, the sound desperate and needy.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. He kissed her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel, and she gasped, her back arching off the couch. His hands slid up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist, before finally cupping her breasts again.

He leaned up, his lips claiming hers in a searing kiss, and she could taste herself on his tongue—sweet, addictive. His hands kneaded her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples, and she moaned into his mouth, her hips grinding against his.

“I’ve been imagining this for so long,” he confessed, pulling back just enough to speak. His breath was warm against her skin, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “Every night, I’ve dreamed about touching you like this. About feeling you beneath me. About making you moan my name.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she tugged him closer, her lips capturing his in a desperate kiss. He groaned, his hands sliding down her body to grip her hips, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hardness of him through his jeans, and she whimpered, the sound muffled against his lips.

“Lando,” she gasped, breaking the kiss. Her hands slid down his chest, fumbling with the button of his jeans. He watched her, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes filled with need.

“Wait,” he growled, catching her hands in his. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Before she could protest, he pushed her back against the couch, his lips trailing down her body once more. He kissed her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and she squirmed beneath him, her hands tangling in his hair as he reached for the waistband of her jeans. His hands were impatient, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper, and she let out a shaky laugh, half from nerves, half from the sheer intensity of his focus.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling as he tugged the denim down her hips. He kissed her exposed skin, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just above the edge of her panties, and she gasped, her back arching off the couch. Her jeans pooled at her ankles, and he pulled them off in one swift motion, tossing them aside without a second thought.

Her legs were bare now, her body trembling beneath his gaze. He looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered, his eyes filled with a hunger that made her heart race. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “Every inch of you.”

Her hands clenched in his hair, tugging him closer as he kissed his way back up her body. His lips found hers again, the kiss bruising, desperate, and she moaned into his mouth, her hips lifting off the couch in search of friction. He groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her still, his lips moving to her neck, her collarbone, her breasts.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking as his teeth grazed her nipple. He chuckled, the sound low and satisfied, before pulling back to look at her.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he promised, his eyes blazing with intent. She shivered, her body already a trembling mess beneath him, and he smirked, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs. “Not even close.”

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “Please.”

He looked up at her, his eyes blazing, and he didn’t say a word. Instead, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down, leaving her completely bare. Her breath hitched as he stared at her, his gaze raking over her body with a hunger that made her heart race.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent. “Every inch of you.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing the inside of her thigh, and she tensed, her hands clutching the couch cushions. His breath was warm against her skin, and she whimpered, her hips lifting off the couch in a silent plea.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Please.”

He didn’t make her wait. His mouth claimed her in one swift movement, and she cried out, her back arching off the couch. His tongue swirled around her, teasing and tasting, and she tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, her hips grinding against his face. “Lando, please.”

Lando’s mouth was relentless, his tongue tracing every inch of her with a hunger that left her trembling. She could feel the slick heat of him working her, his tongue lapping at her entrance, teasing her with slow, deliberate strokes that made her toes curl. “Oh, God, Lando,” she gasped, her hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer as if she could fuse him to her. His lips wrapped around her clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, and she let out a strangled cry, her hips lifting off the couch. The sensation was electric, like a current running straight to her core, and she could feel herself getting wetter, her body responding to every flick of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled against her skin, his voice rough and raw. “I’ve been dreaming about this—about how sweet you’d feel, how tight you’d be.” His tongue swirled around her clit, teasing her mercilessly, and she moaned, the sound ragged and desperate. He pulled back just enough to look up at her, his eyes blazing with a mix of lust and something deeper, something possessive. “I could spend hours here,” he muttered, his breath hot against her skin. “Just tasting you, learning every inch of you. You’re fucking addictive.”

She whimpered, her body quivering as he dove back in, his tongue working her with a skill that left her mind blank. He added two fingers, sliding them inside her with a groan, and she cried out, her pussy clenching around him. “Jesus, you’re so tight,” he murmured, his fingers curling inside her, hitting that spot that made her see stars. “And so fucking wet—God, you’re perfect.” He pumped his fingers slowly, drawing out every gasp, every moan, and she could feel herself spiraling toward the edge. “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice low and husky. “Let me hear you. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

She couldn’t hold back the sounds escaping her lips—moans, whimpers, his name repeated like a prayer. His tongue flicked over her clit, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure, and she felt her legs quake, her body tightening like a coiled spring. “Lando, I—” she choked out, her voice breaking as the pleasure built to unbearable levels. “I’m so close—please.”

He didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony, driving her higher and higher until she shattered. Her orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over her with a force that left her gasping for air, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she rode out the intensity. He didn’t stop, his tongue coaxing every last tremor from her body, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to her inner thighs as she came down from the high.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. He leaned up, kissing her stomach, her chest, her lips, and she could taste herself on his tongue—sweet, intoxicating. “I’m never going to get enough of you,” he confessed, his hands roaming her body, memorizing her curves. “Your pussy, your taste, the way you moan my name—it’s all fucking perfect. You’re mine, Y/N. All mine.”

She nodded, too dazed to speak, her body still humming with pleasure. He kissed her again, slow and deep, and she melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back just enough to smirk at her, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “And I’m just getting started.”

Lando’s hands slid under her back, his strong arms lifting her effortlessly as if she weighed nothing. She gasped, her arms instinctively looping around his neck as he stood, cradling her against his chest. Her body felt weightless, her mind still hazy from the intensity of what he’d just done to her. He carried her through the dimly lit apartment, his steps purposeful and steady, never once breaking his gaze from hers. There was something possessive in his expression, something that made her heart race even faster.

When they reached her bedroom, he gently lowered her onto the bed, her body sinking into the softness of the mattress. She was completely bare now, her skin glowing faintly in the moonlight streaming through the windows. Her pussy was still sensitive, still throbbing from the way he’d made her come, and she could feel the slickness between her thighs as she lay there, her legs slightly parted—an unspoken invitation.

Lando stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes raking over her with a hunger that made her shiver. His fingers gripped the hem of his hoodie, and he yanked it over his head in one swift motion, revealing his toned chest and the faint trail of hair that led down to the waistband of his jeans. She bit her lip, her gaze tracing the lines of his body, the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

He wasted no time, his hands quickly undoing the button of his jeans, the zipper sliding down with a soft hiss. He kicked them off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, the fabric barely containing the hardness straining against it. Her breath hitched as she took him in, the reality of what was about to happen finally sinking in.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he stepped closer to the bed. His hands slid up her thighs, his touch sending shivers through her. “I’ve been imagining this for so long—having you like this, seeing you laid out for me, completely mine.” He leaned down, his lips brushing her inner thigh, and she whimpered, her body arching toward him.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please…”

He smirked, that wicked, possessive smile she was starting to love—and fear—as he straightened. “Patience, love,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’m not done with you yet.” His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed, and she felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over her, his breath hot against her skin. “You’re mine now, Y/N. All mine.”

Lando’s fingers traced the curve of her hip, his eyes filled with a possessive hunger that made her shiver. His breath was hot against her skin as he leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Tell me how you want me, Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. “Tell me what you need from me.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling beneath his touch. She could feel the slick heat between her thighs, the ache for him almost unbearable. “You can do whatever you want with me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Just—please. Fuck me. However you want. I just need you inside me.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Desperate for me, huh?” he teased, his fingers sliding up her thigh, tracing the sensitive skin there. “You’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? About me fucking you, making you mine.”

She whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea. “Yes,” she gasped, her hands clutching the sheets. “I need you, Lando. Please.”

He smirked, that wicked, possessive smile she was starting to love—and fear—as he straightened. Slowly, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, his eyes never leaving hers. The fabric slid down his hips, and her breath caught in her throat. He was bigger than she expected, his cock thick and hard, straining toward her. Her mouth watered at the sight, her body growing even wetter as she imagined how he would feel inside her.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I want to suck you. Let me—”

He cut her off with a firm shake of his head, his hand catching her chin and tilting her face up to his. “Not tonight, love,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tonight’s about you. About worshiping you. About finally having you in the way I’ve been dreaming of for so long.” He leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a searing kiss. “You can suck me off another time. Right now, I need to be inside you. Right now, I need to see my dick sliding in and out of that pretty pussy of yours.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. His words alone were enough to make her throb, but the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing that mattered—made her heart race even faster. She nodded, her legs falling open wider in an unspoken invitation.

Lando groaned, his hand sliding down to grip his cock, stroking himself once as he positioned himself between her thighs. “You’re mine now, Y/N,” he growled, his voice thick with possession. “All mine.”

Lando’s grip on her hips tightened as he lined himself up, the thick head of his cock brushing against her slick entrance. She gasped, her body instinctively arching toward his, desperate for more. Her pussy felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alive and screaming for him. The way he stretched her was exquisite—a perfect mix of pleasure and a hint of pain that made her grind her hips against his, silently begging him to go deeper. She could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as he pushed inside her, inch by torturously slow inch, filling her in a way that made her head spin. Her pussy clenched around him, as if it didn’t want to let him go, and she let out a whimper that was half pleasure, half desperation.

For Lando, it was like sliding into heaven. Her pussy was so fucking tight, gripping him like a velvet glove, and the heat of her was enough to make him see stars. He groaned, low and guttural, as he felt her walls flutter around him, her body adjusting to his size. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “You’re so goddamn perfect. Your pussy feels like it was made for me.” He leaned down, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss, swallowing her moans as he pushed deeper. He could feel her nails digging into his back, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, and he knew she was just as desperate as he was.

He started to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in hard but slow, dragging the movement to prolong the unbearable pleasure. Her moans filled the room, a symphony of bliss that drove him wild. One of his hands held her hip, keeping her steady, while the other rested on the bed, his elbow bent to hold his weight above her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her fingers tangling in his curls as she clung to him, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Lando couldn’t get enough of her. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone—every inch of skin he could reach. His lips traced a fiery path across her body, leaving marks that claimed her as his. “You’re mine,” he whispered against her skin, his voice thick with possession. “Every part of you. Your pussy, your moans, these fucking perfect tits—all fucking mine.” He pulled back just enough to look down at where their bodies were joined, his cock glistening with her arousal as he slid in and out of her. The sight was obscene, and it made his groin tighten with need. “Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “Look how fucking wet you are for me. Your pussy’s sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”

She cried out as he thrust deeper, her hips lifting to meet his, eager for more. The friction was almost too much, every drag of his cock inside her sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She could feel him in places she’d never felt anyone before, his length filling her completely, and the thought alone made her pussy clench around him. “Lando,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “You feel so good. So fucking good. Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

He growled, his thrusts becoming harder, more deliberate, as if he was trying to imprint himself on her very soul. “I’m not stopping,” he promised, his voice rough with lust. “Not until you’re screaming my name, until you’re so fucking full of me you can’t think of anyone else.” His hand slid up from her hip to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple, and she moaned, her back arching off the bed.

Her hips pressed against his, her eagerness driving him wild. He couldn’t believe how responsive she was, how perfectly she matched his rhythm, as if their bodies were made for each other. “You’re so fucking eager for me,” he muttered, his eyes blazing with need. “I love it. I love how much you fucking want me.” His lips crashed onto hers, their breaths mingling, and she could taste herself on his tongue, sweet and addictive.

Their movements grew frantic, desperate—a symphony of skin against skin, breathless moans, and the wet sound of their bodies colliding. She could feel it building, the tight coil in her core winding tighter and tighter until it threatened to snap. Her pussy clenched around him, the sensations overwhelming—every inch of him filling her, stretching her, making her feel impossibly full. The friction was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body, and she could tell from the erratic rhythm of his thrusts that he was close too.

“Please, Lando,” she begged, her voice trembling with desperation. “Come with me. Let me feel you.”

He groaned, his forehead resting against hers as his hips stuttered. “Fuck, baby, come on my cock,” he panted, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you clench around me. Let go for me.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her pussy contracting around him in waves of pure ecstasy. It felt like fire and ice all at once—her body trembling, her vision blurring as she cried out his name. Her pussy pulsed around his cock, milking him, and the sensation was so intense she could barely breathe.

For Lando, it was heaven. Her tight, wet walls clenched around him in the most perfect rhythm, fluttering and gripping him like she never wanted to let go. He groaned, low and guttural, as he felt her orgasm ripple through her body, each contraction pulling him closer to the edge. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Your pussy feels too fucking good. I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Where do you want it, baby?” he panted, his thrusts slowing but still deep, still deliberate. “Tell me where you want me to cum.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with desire, and licked her lips. “On my tits,” she whispered, her voice sultry and low. “Cover them. Make a mess of me.”

His eyes widened, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold back. Her tits—god, her perfect tits—had been his obsession for so long, and the thought of covering them with his cum nearly made him lose it. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he panted, staring down at her chest like it was sacred.

She smirked, her confidence growing as she saw the way he looked at her. “You love my tits that much?” she teased, pushing them together with her hands. Her fingers kneaded the soft flesh, her nipples hard and begging for attention. “Come on, then—mark them. Make them yours.”

Lando groaned, his cock twitching inside her at the sight. Her tits were perfection—full, soft, and begging for his cum. He couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled out of her slowly, his cock slick with her arousal, and she whimpered at the loss of him. Her pussy felt empty, aching, but the sight of him stroking himself above her made her throb all over again.

She watched, mesmerized, as he gripped his cock, his hand moving up and down in long, deliberate strokes. Her tits were pushed together now, her hands cupping them, her fingers teasing her nipples. She loved the sight of him—his face flushed, his jaw tight as he fought for control. “Look at me, Lando,” she urged, her voice low and sultry. “You love these tits so much? Then come on them.”

He groaned, his hand moving faster, his eyes locked on her chest. “You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he said through gritted teeth. “Tits pushed up for me… fuck.”

She licked her lips, her eyes full of desire. “I want it all, Lando,” she urged, her voice trembling with need. “Cover me with it—don’t hold back.”

He groaned, his hand moving urgently over his cock as he felt his orgasm building. “You’re all mine,” he growled, his voice thick with possession. “These tits are mine. I’m gonna mark them, Y/N. I’m gonna make sure everyone knows they belong to me.”

She licked her lips, her fingers teasing her nipples as she watched him. “Stroke it for me… faster. Let go. I want every drop. Cover me, Lando. Make me yours.”

Her words were the final push he needed. With a strangled moan, he came, thick ropes of cum spurting onto her tits, coating them in his release. His hand moved furiously over his cock, milking every last drop as he stared down at her, his chest heaving.

For Y/N, the sight was intoxicating. Watching him cum on her tits, seeing the way his face twisted in pleasure, the way his body trembled as he let go—it was almost as good as the orgasm he’d just given her. She felt his cum splattering against her skin, warm and sticky, and she couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. “God, Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re so fucking hot like this.”

For Lando, the moment was unreal. The sight of his cum streaked across her tits, the way she looked up at him with those hungry eyes—it was enough to make his knees weak. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed, his voice rough with awe. “I could watch this all day.”

She smirked, her fingers trailing through the sticky warmth of his cum on her chest. With deliberate slowness, she dipped a single finger into the mess, coating it in his release. Her eyes never left his as she brought her finger to her lips, her tongue darting out to taste him. The salty tang of his cum hit her senses, and she moaned softly, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she sucked the finger clean. His cock still rested in his hand, twitching at the sight of her, and she could see the hunger in his eyes—raw, untamed, and absolutely desperate for her.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, her voice low and dripping with desire.

His breath hitched, his body already responding to her command. He leaned down without hesitation, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Their mouths collided with a hunger that left her dizzy, and she could feel the sticky remnants of his release still on her fingers as she tangled her hand in his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she moaned, the taste of herself mixed with him—salty, intoxicating—sending a shiver down her spine.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled against her lips, his voice rough with need. His hands slid up her sides, fingers digging into her skin as if he couldn’t get enough of her. “You’re mine, Y/N. All mine.”

She whimpered into his mouth, her body still trembling from the intensity of their connection. Her hips shifted slightly beneath him, and she could feel the heat of his arousal radiating off him, igniting her own desire all over again.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathless, their foreheads pressed together as they tried to steady themselves. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with something that made her heart race. He kissed her once more, quick and possessive, before pulling away.

She watched him as he disappeared into the bathroom, her chest still glistening with his release. The sight of his cum streaked across her tits made her cheeks flush, but the warmth in her chest outweighed any lingering embarrassment. He returned moments later with a warm, damp towel in hand, his eyes softening as he knelt beside the bed.

“Let me clean you up,” he said, his voice gentle but no less possessive. She nodded, her breath catching as he pressed the towel to her skin, the warmth soothing the sticky mess he’d left behind. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were savoring every moment of this intimacy. His eyes never left her face, and she felt her heart swell at the tenderness in his gaze.

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and crawled back into bed, pulling her into his arms. Her body melted against his, the warmth of his skin a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room. She rested her head on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his skin as their breathing slowly synced.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, and she felt a wave of contentment wash over her. “Mine,” he added, his tone possessive but soft, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Yours,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull her into a sense of peace. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt safe, cherished, and utterly claimed.

They lay there, tangled together, the hum of the city outside a distant reminder of the world beyond their little bubble. For now, it was just the two of them, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Neither spoke for a while, the room thick with the mingled scents of sweat and relief. The adrenaline that had fueled their passion was giving way to a wave of emotions—vulnerability, uncertainty, a fragile sense of hope. Finally, Lando spoke, voice hoarse.

“Y/N?”

She peeked up at him, flushed. She wasn’t used to such intense intimacy, but she nestled against his warmth. “Yeah?”

He swallowed. “I… I don’t regret this. But I need you to know: I’m not just here for one night. I want you in every sense of the word. I’m serious.”

Her chest clenched with emotion. She ran a hand along his jawline, stubble prickling her fingers. “I’m scared,” she confessed quietly. “But… I want you, too. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

His gaze softened. “Then let’s try. Let me show you I can be the man you need. I’ll prove it however long it takes.”

She closed her eyes, soaking in the moment, in the warmth of his embrace. The city lights shimmered outside, as if reflecting her tumultuous inner world. In that moment, though, she let herself believe in the possibility, let the anger and hurt recede in the face of the closeness they’d found.

The hours after their passionate collision were a storm of emotions. She felt a ripple of self-consciousness, but he only looked at her with the same unguarded admiration as before, as though he couldn’t believe she was real.

In the faint glow of the bedside lamp, she saw him glancing around her bedroom—how neatly organized it was, how it contrasted with the chaos they’d just unleashed in the living room. He let out a soft chuckle, leaning back against the pillows.

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve dreamed about just being near you,” he said quietly.

She swallowed a lump of emotion, sinking onto the mattress beside him. “Why me?” she whispered, the familiar insecurity creeping back. “You could have anyone.”

He caught her chin gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You keep saying that, but the truth is, not everyone is you. I’ve met countless people. You’re different. It’s in the way you carry yourself, the way you see the world, the way you call me out on my bullshit. And… I can’t even describe it. I just know I want no one else.”

She felt tears threaten again, but they were tears of a tender ache this time, not the angry sting of earlier. “I guess… I need to learn how to trust that.”

He nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Let me earn that trust.”

She scooted closer, letting her head rest on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of him lull her into a sense of security she’d never quite felt before. Deep down, she knew they had miles to go—her fears about his reputation, her wariness about the future, and the question of whether he would eventually tire of her or not. But for now, she let herself savor this fleeting peace, the sense of belonging in his arms.

Because after nine months of running, she was finally letting herself be caught.

Do Not Disturb | M. Verstappen

Summary: Max hates your ex, so when the right opportunity falls right into his hands, he takes it. Even when he's fucking you in the hotel room.

Warnings: 18+, cocky Max, reader is a tease, champagne shenanigans, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradative terms (barely but just a warning in case)

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: max & f!reader

Note: another repost because why not

Max loves winning. Especially winning the first place trophy in his racing career-from karting when he was younger to the F1 races. Although, for a while now, he's been happier. Many people think it's because of his two back to back world championships. While that may be true, he has another reason.

You.

You have known Max for a long time, both growing up together because your parents were good friends. From the moment he began his racing career in the smaller karts, you've been there. From hating the sound of the karts passing by, to loving the sound of F1 cars passing by. You didn't really have a choice because Max always wanted you by his side.

The point is, you've known Max long enough to know everything about him. Even his fans know you as his number one supporter. But what no one knew, was that your friendship has changed overtime. You and Max got to experience things that one normally would in a relationship, without actually being in a relationship.

You two were friends with benefits. It began a few years ago, drunken celebrations led to lingering touches which eventually ended in crossing the line of a regular friendship. There were no regrets but you weren't romantically attracted to him and neither was he, so the decision was made to remain as just friends.

Today, Max had won another race. He stood on the top step of the podium, listening to his country's national anthem with a smile on his face. While he was glad to add another trophy to his collection, he was thinking of all the ways he would be celebrating with you later on. Preferably with you underneath him on his bed, naked.

While you saw him smile towards his team, his expression towards you was slightly different. A difference that no one else knew the meaning behind. See the thing is, you might've told him something when he embraced you after getting out of his car. "A little fact, I'm not wearing anything under this dress"

You knew that no one would hear you because they were too busy cheering for the man in front of you. Max was pulled away by others but his gaze was still on you. Now, as he was standing on the podium, he watched you with a look that only meant mischief.

After the podium celebrations ended, Max was taken away for some post-race interviews where the same questions is asked in different ways.

Knowing that it'll take him a while, you returned to your hotel room. Usually you would stay and converse with some other drivers while he was busy, but today was a different story.

The comment you made wasn't a lie, you truly weren't wearing any undergarments under your dress. It was definitely risky, but you knew that it would spark a reaction out of Max. And you were glad that it did.

You debated whether or not you should send Max a text, something for his eyes only, but decided otherwise because you didn't want anyone else to see. Plus, he should be waiting for his reward. Perhaps another time.

After freshening up, you sat on the couch in the main room, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, waiting for Max to arrive. However, your eyes widened in surprise when you saw a notification from your ex.

It was a text asking if you could meet him. You were debating on either being nice and meeting him once more for closure, or if you should ignore him. The thing was, you didn't like ending on rough terms. You would hate to be in his spot right now, but considering the things your ex has done, you didn't know what to do.

Before you could reply, the door to your hotel room opened and Max walked in. He was holding his trophy in one hand, and the champagne bottle that he got on the podium in the other hand.

Smiling, you got up and embraced him, "congratulations, champion"

"Don't act like you don't know what you did." He retorted, not hugging you back. "Oh I know exactly what I did." You stepped away from him and your hands travelled down his chest, teasing the edge of the hem of his shirt.

"Got me so hard on the fucking podium. Who knows what people will think?" He let your hands roam around his body, close to where he needs it the most.

"Who cares what they think? You looked so hot covered in champagne"

"Yeah? Let me return the favour" Max tilted his head towards the champagne bottle in his hand.

He placed his trophy on the table to free his hand that was itching to touch you. Wrapping that free hand around your waist, he pulled you against him. Then, tilting your head back, he instructed "open"

You obliged, opening your mouth and waiting for the cool champagne to fill your mouth. He didn't stop even after your mouth was full, letting the excess drip down your chin.

"Swallow" he said, watching closely as you listened. Then, he kissed you, savouring the familiar taste of victory that he worked hard for.

Your hands were still roaming around his body, lifting up his shirt by the hem. Parting away just for a moment to remove his shirt, then his lips were back on yours.

His lips travelled lower to your neck, lapping up the champagne that dripped earlier. His two favourite things combined, your taste mixed with the champagne. His mind was buzzing with all the things he wanted to do to you.

Pouring some more champagne on your throat, his tongue darted out to drink it. "Max" you groaned, liking the sensations but also wanting more.

"Gonna cover you in champagne, baby" he whispered as he continued his ministrations. You made a sound, agreeing to his idea. "Make you all sticky with alcohol then with my cum" he continued, and you really liked that suggestion, "fuck yes please"

"Yeah, you want that?" He asked, bringing his face back up and placing a kiss to your lips. You nodded, "yes please, Max" you replied, breathlessly.

Bringing his beloved champagne bottle up again, he smirked as he slowly poured it down the front of your dress. He watched as the cloth stuck to your body, and he also noticed how your nipples hardened underneath. It was due to the mix of pleasure radiating through your body along with the cold champagne.

"You really aren't wearing anything underneath huh?" He believed you when you said it, but seeing it was another thing. "Why bother when I know you are going to remove it after you win" you found your words and explained your reasoning behind the lack of clothes.

"Fuck baby, you knew I was going to win today?" Max loved how much you believed in him. "Not a single doubt otherwise." This time you claimed his lips with yours.

You supported him like no other. And he was so grateful for that; for you.

Pressing up against his chest, he could feel how soaked your dress was and decided to remove it. Blindly finding the zipper on the back, he tugged it down.

Before he could explore your body using his hands, you pressed one more kiss on his lips before sitting down on your knees. Both of you were now quite impatient, and it was evident in your actions.

Quickly removing his belt and tugging the last layer of clothes down to his knees, you paused for a moment. You placed your hands on his thighs and made eye contact with him, noting how he was already looking down at you. "Want a reward for winning?" You asked rhetorically.

Max nodded, "yes, give me your filthy mouth that loves my cock"

You wrapped your lips around his tip, not taking him any further. You can tell that Max is restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth, and for a brief moment you go deeper but then remove your mouth. "You want my mouth?" You asked, teasingly.

"Fuck yes. I want you" he replies, groaning. You almost break out in a smile but contain yourself, "ask nicely."

Max's glare tells you that if it were up to him, you'd be on all fours with your face pressed in the mattress. But, he also knows that even though you're the one that's on your knees, you have all the power right now.

"Please, I need you so bad. Make me feel good please?" He gave in, listening to you. And man, he definitely felt like a winner when you took almost all of him in one movement.

His hand was resting on your head, tempted to force you to take more. You loved the sounds he was making above you when you would brush against a good spot. You noticed every little movement of his; how his breath would hitch when you moaned, how his abs would tense as if he's trying to hold himself back, and the way he would wrap your hair around his fingers tightly.

Right now, all your focus was on pleasuring Max. After all, he is the winner. And you'd be down on your knees to do this every time he wins, because you love it as much as he does.

Sucking greedily on his cock along with his dirty words made a shiver run down your spine. You two were in for a long night, willing to spend a couple hours in each other's presence.

Max was looking at the way his cock made a bulge in your mouth as you tried taking all of him. You knew you couldn't, but you tested the limits. But, his eyes darted around until he could find your phone since he heard it ringing. It was on the couch that you were sitting on earlier, and the screen was facing up which meant he could see the caller id.

He wanted to make a comment on it especially after knowing that it was your ex calling, but you didn't give him a chance to do so. To bring his focus back to you, you put your hand on top on his that was resting on your head, and urged him to force you deeper.

You both simultaneously let out sounds which drowned out the sound of the incessant ringing, making Max forget about it all.

You knew he was close so you pulled off after deeply sucking him one last time, then replaced your mouth with your hand. "Gonna cover me in your cum?" You asked, looking at him as he figured why you pulled away.

The height of his pleasure almost made him close his eyes but he chose to force them open so he could see how his cum coated your chest.

Once you knew he finished, you removed your hand from him and dragged it through the cum on your chest, coating your finger. Then, knowing that he was watching every move, you cleaned off your finger using your tongue.

"You look so pretty baby" he commented as he helped you stand up.

The thing about Max, is that he would be ready for another round in no time. His stamina and refractory period was unbeatable. "You weren't really nice to me so I don't know if I should fuck you." He told you, holding back a smirk when you pouted. "I know you want to, baby. My pussy's so wet because of you."

"Is it now? Waiting for me to fuck you dumb? That's what you want right?" Max asked as his hand travelled down your body, just barely touching you like you wanted him to.

"Yes, fuck me dumb" you pleaded and he positioned you on the couch to lay on your back. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer.

There was barely any resistance when he slid in you due to your wetness that had dropped down to your thighs. "So perfect for me" Max groaned as he felt you clenching around him, causing his hips to stutter since he already orgasmed once.

Max's hands were on your thighs but he moved one to drag up towards the pool of his cum still resting on your body. He would definitely clean you up later, but right now, seeing you like this did something to him. And he liked it.

His two coated fingers tapped your lips and you opened your mouth, taking them in. Once you sucked them clean, he removed his fingers which was now coated with your saliva, and teased your clit.

You arched your back, feeling every single thrust deep, especially after he easily found the perfect spot and kept a relentless pace. Your hands were balling up in fists, tightly gripping on the sheets.

You were so caught up in your pleasure that you didn't hear your phone ringing again, until Max picked it up. "She's too busy being fucked by me" is what you first heard him say to the person on the other side. It didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.

For some reason, that edged you even closer to your release. "Here, listen to her because you'll never get the chance again." Max told your ex, and held the phone closer to you so the man on the other end could hear your moans only meant for Max.

At the same time, his thrusts became stronger and faster. With that plus his fingers circling your clit caused you to moan Max's name out loud as you came undone.

Your ex heard it all. Max slowed his thrusts but didn't completely stop to prolong your orgasm, and held the phone to his ear again. "Don't you dare think about calling her again." He instructed before hanging up and tossing the phone to the side.

You were all fucked out, just like he wanted, looking up at him with a small smile. Seeing Max's smug expression, you forgot about any embarrassment regarding the fact that your ex heard you moan Max's name.

I wonder why he didn't play like this in the 1996 charity match 🤨. Anyway, this is is cute asf

Heart's Demands - OP81

@jude-duarte-wannabe prompt request #14 Hide Away - Daya

Summary: Y/n has been desperately crushing on Lando but after getting her heart broke when he trails her along for months then shows up with a new model girlfriend, she tries to find a man who is actually a good man who would treat her right. Little did she know she had her gaze on the wrong McLaren driver the whole time.

Themes/warnings: Lando is a bit of a dick but he's not really present.

Word count: 1.1k

Oscar frowns seeing y/n talking with some of the McLaren PR girls who seem to being trying to give her the respect of pretending they can't tell she's bene crying and is seemingly on the verge of crying. Her arms are wrapped around her frail looking body and she's visibly trying to force a smile but it's weak.

He already knows what happened. Lando introduced him to his new girlfriend this morning.

It was cruel of him to invite y/n "as a friend" when he knew he'd be bringing the girl he's been trying to date and keeping y/n as a back up for if it didn't work out the way he was hoping with Violet. He literally had y/n ready as rebound for himself.

Eventually the girls clear reassuring her that she'll be ok and they're there if she needs anything over the rest of the weekend. No doubt Lando paid for her flight back after the race and she's sort of stuck there till then.

"Hey, y/n." Oscar greets swooping in as soon as she's on her own as she smiles almost looking pained by the sight of the Aussie.

"Hey, Oscar. How you doing?-please don't ask me." Y/n smiles adding in the request because that's definitely going to push her over the edge again and she doesn't want to keep crying. She's more than aware it's obvious that she has been crying and she hates it, but crying more because of such a simple question is the last thing she wants and he gets that.

"I'm good. Think we could have a win this weekend." Oscar states making y/n nod still forcing a weak smile. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you’re ok. I have stuff to do. But if you want a place to hideaway if you want to just get some space then my drivers room can be used. I hide out in there all the time.”

“Thanks, Oscar.” Y/n nods with a small but genuine smile.

-

Y/n walks through the hotel just killing time and trying to avoid being left with her thoughts that are definitely starting to bully her. It's when she steps around a corner that she quickly moves dodging a body that almost gets crashed into.

"Oh sorry." Y/n mumbles quickly before realising who it is. "Hi, Oscar."

"Hi...what are you doing on this floor?" Oscar questions since he does know which floor y/n's room is on.

"I'm...looking for where all the good guys are hiding." Y/n jokes half-heartedly then sighing. "They're pretty damn good at hiding wherever they are because...I genuinely don't think I'll ever find one."

Oscar pauses trying to think of what to say in response but he doesn't manage to think something up.

"How about I walk with you and help you look?" Oscar offers earning a slightly confused expression, clearly she was joking but Oscar offering his company is very much a more serious thing that she didn't expect to see.

"O-Ok." Y/n nods making Oscar smile lightly before stepping aside and gesturing for her to go ahead and start walking.

Y/n ends up using their walk around several floors of the hotel as a means of just talking through her feelings and using Oscar as a bit of a cushion of her emotions and outlet of her raw thoughts.

"I mean obviously Lando never cared-I know he's not the worst guy on the planet but he's a fucking asshole and a coward to do what he did. I'm not asking for too much by just asking for someone who treats me like I mean something to them. Am I asking too much?" Y/n questions finally prompting Oscar to speak after a solid 20 minutes of walking with him listening and her talking.

"I don't think that's asking for anything other than the bare minimum." Oscar shrugs making her let out a frustrated huff.

"That's my point. It is the bare minimum." Y/n groans before a spark in the back of her head shoots to the forefront of her mind and she tries to tone down her thoughts as she feels something in her shift when it comes to the Aussie.

Y/n has already made the error of mistaking intentions from Lando and Oscar is probably just being nice because that's the type of guy he is. He has only sisters, he probably has been forced to respect women and the world knows the powerhouse of a woman that raised him.

"I uhh...it's late. I should probably just shut up and go to bed." Y/n mumbles making Oscar nod.

"I'll walk you back to your room." Oscar states making her nod a little suddenly going from talking nonstop to almost silent. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, just...tired now." Y/n mumbles while y/n keeps her gaze downwards on the ground.

-

Admittedly when Oscar decided to get the commercial flight back to Woking, he knew he just wanted more time with y/n and in an act that only the universe had power over. He's seated right next to her in first class, clearly Lando was feeling generous with his plane ticket.

But really it was the least he could do by letting her travel in comfort after he just completely.

"I'm beginning to think you're following me." Y/n jokes while Oscar smiles lightly.

"Figured I'd do you the favour and not hide from you." Oscar shrugs making her eyes widen. "I wouldn't do what he did...ever."

Y/n blinks a couple times feeling tears welling up. Because Oscar listened to her and he clearly intends to make himself clear on how he feels and what he wants with her.

Lando might of hurt her and acted like a dick along with making her look like a fool who was too gullible and naive for her own good. But then she went and confessed every frustration to his teammate who maybe she should've been putting time and effort into this whole time.

"You could've said that earlier."

"It didn't feel like it was right to step in when you wanted to have a chance with Lando...but it happens a lot where he makes a mistake and I get to benefit. I think this could be just another time that happens. And I'm not going to make you keep looking for a good guy that you thinking is hiding from you." Oscar states in earnest of his opinion of himself since he does think he'd be good for y/n and he thinks he'd treat he'd exactly like she deserves.

"I can't really argue with that." Y/n laughs nervously before smiling. "Was I really that blind that I missed it?"

"Maybe a little." Oscar confirms then shrugging. "But I should've spoken up earlier."

"No. I should've been less blinded by obsession and more focused on someone worth my time."

"We've got plenty of time to make up for that."

hi!! first of all wanted to say that i LOVE your work! I'd like to request a smut <3

so i was thinking about carlos w a somno kink, praise kink and some dacryphilia. i'd also like an innocence kink so maybe like inexperienced!reader. oh, and aftercare too! thanks ^_^

Deep Dark Desire | C. Sainz

warnings: 18+ content, dark!carlos, non-con, possessive!carlos, hint of stalker behaviour, manipulation, carlos sneaking sleeping pills in food, somnophilia, oral, fingering, innocent!virgin!reader, praise kink, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, mentions of pregnancy, aftercare.

wc: 6.5k

— this is a dark fic! please read the warnings and do not read this fic if any of the topics make you uncomfortable. Don’t like, don’t read!

The aroma of something sweet and savoury greeted you the moment you stepped through the door. You let the weight of the day melt off your shoulders as you kicked off your shoes, too tired to process anything beyond the simple comfort of being home. Carlos was already in the kitchen, his dark hair slightly tousled and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he stirred a pot on the stove.

He turned at the sound of your soft footsteps, his face lighting up with a smile that was all warmth and devotion. “There you are, princesa,” he said, setting the spoon down to cross the room to stand in front of you. His hands found your shoulders immediately, his thumbs pressing gently into the tense muscles there. “Long day?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch with a sigh. Carlos had a way of making you feel cared for in ways you hadn’t known you needed. He always seemed to know what you wanted before you did—what to say, how to look at you, how to touch you just enough to make your heart flutter but not so much that you’d question the boundaries of your relationship.

“I made dinner,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he guided you to the kitchen table. “Sit. Eat. Let me take care of you.”

You sank into the chair, too weary to protest. Carlos placed a steaming plate in front of you, the dish carefully prepared, every detail perfect. You couldn’t help but smile at the effort he’d gone to, even after such a long day himself.

“You’re too good to me,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

His smile deepened, but there was something in his gaze—something you couldn’t quite name. It was too intense, too knowing, as though he were looking at more than just your face. It made your stomach twist, though you quickly dismissed it as exhaustion.

Carlos sat across from you, his elbows resting on the table as he watched you eat. His presence was comforting, grounding. And yet, there was an edge to his attention that you never noticed, a shadow lurking beneath the surface of his affection.

Because while you saw only his patience—his endless sweetness, his gentle guidance—there was so much more to Carlos that you didn’t see. That he didn’t let you see…yet.

You didn’t see the way his hands tightened into fists every time someone else’s name—especially a man’s name—slipped into your stories from work. You didn’t hear the quiet, possessive promises whispered into the stillness of the apartment when you were sound asleep. You didn’t know how carefully he kept track of your every habit, your every move, until he knew you better than you knew yourself. It was how he managed to charm you into a relationship with him in the first place. 

From the moment he saw you, he was smitten. Carlos loved you. But as time went on, the more he found the extent of your innocence—the very one that made you pliable and trusting. He loved that you let him lead in all aspects, oblivious to the dark currents beneath his tenderness. It was those very thoughts about you he held close that turned his love for you into a crazed obsession.

You had no idea that the man who seemed so devoted, so perfect, would do anything to keep you his—even if it meant crossing lines you didn’t yet know existed.

“Eat, nena,” he said softly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. His fingers brushed your wrist, lingering just a moment too long. “You need to keep your strength up.”

And as you took another bite, smiling faintly at his concern, you missed the way his gaze darkened, the way his lips curved into a smile that wasn’t sweet at all.

Carlos rested his chin on his hand, his dark eyes fixed on you as you took careful bites of the meal he had prepared. Your free hand held his other hand, his thumb tracing slow, soothing patterns. Every so often, you’d glance up at him, smiling softly, touched by the care he had put into it. The flavours were rich and comforting, the kind of food that made you feel safe. You wondered, briefly, how you’d gotten so lucky to have someone like him in your life.

But as you ate, a question tugged at the back of your mind. You set your fork down gently and tilted your head. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Carlos’ lips twitched into a faint smile, and he shook his head. “Not yet. This one’s special. Just for you.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your cheeks flush slightly. You didn’t even consider questioning him further. Of course, he would do something like this—go out of his way to make you feel cared for without expecting anything in return. That’s just how Carlos is.

Still, there was something about the way he said ‘special’ that lingered in your mind, a weight to the word you couldn’t quite place. But the thought slipped away as a wave of exhaustion rolled over you, your body suddenly heavy and your eyelids drooping.

You blinked rapidly, shaking your head as if to clear it. “I don’t know why I’m so tired,” you murmured, dropping his hand and rubbing at your temple. “I wasn’t this bad earlier.”

Carlos’ expression shifted instantly, his brows furrowing with concern as he leaned closer to you. His hand found yours again—not able to handle the sudden loss of warmth—his thumb brushing soothing circles over your skin.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, his voice low and gentle. His other hand reached out, fingertips brushing your forehead as if to check for a fever. “You’ve had a long day, mi vida. You need to rest.”

You wanted to smile at his worry, to reassure him that it was nothing serious. But your head felt so heavy, the corners of your vision blurring as your body sagged further into the chair. You fought against the haze, focusing on the soft lines of Carlos’ face, his worried eyes, the way his lips pressed together in a tight line.

If only you’d known the truth behind that worry. If only you’d seen the darkness that twisted through the depths of his concern.

“Here,” he murmured, reaching for the glass of water on the table. He pressed it into your hand, guiding it to your lips. “Drink this, cariño. And then go lie down. I’ll clean up.”

You shook your head weakly, your grip on the glass faltering as you set it down. “No, I’ll finish my food first. You put so much effort into this for me…”

Carlos’ hand hovered near yours, as though ready to steady you if you faltered again. His smile was small, patient, but there was a flicker of something sharper in his gaze—something you didn’t notice in your foggy state.

“You’re too kind,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Always thinking of others. But I just want you to rest.”

You managed a faint smile, brushing off his suggestion as you picked up your fork again. “Just a little more,” you mumbled.

Carlos didn’t protest, leaning back in his chair as he watched you with an intensity that should have made you shiver. But you were too distracted by the growing weight in your limbs, the way your head felt as if it were floating. Bite by bite, your exhaustion deepened, and you didn’t realize that the cause wasn’t your long day at all—it was the food, his careful planning, and his quiet, calculated patience.

He rested his chin on his palm once more, his smile widening ever so slightly as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “That’s it, nena,” he murmured, his voice almost tender. “You’re doing so well.”

And you, sweet and trusting as always, didn’t think to question the strange satisfaction in his voice.

The room seemed to spin slightly as you set your fork down, the last few bites of your meal left untouched. You blinked, trying to focus on Carlos’ face, but even that felt like too much effort. Your head lolled to the side as a sleepy giggle escaped your lips, the kind of unguarded sound that came when exhaustion stripped you of your usual composure.

“Carlos, baby, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmured, your words slurring slightly. “I’m so… tired.”

He was already by your side, his hands steady as they slipped beneath your arms to lift you from the chair. “Shh, nena,” he cooed, his voice soft and soothing. “Let me take care of you. You’ve done enough today.”

Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as though you weighed nothing. Your arms looped lazily around his neck, and you let out another sleepy giggle, your breath warm against his skin.

“I can walk, you know,” you mumbled, though the comfort of his hold was undeniable.

Carlos chuckled, the sound deep and warm, “you’re barely awake, mi vida. Let me spoil you a little.”

He carried you to the bedroom, his movements careful and deliberate as though he were handling something fragile. The dim light of the room seemed to blur at the edges as he set you down on the bed, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment too long.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He helped you out of your clothes, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart flutter even in your haze. You didn’t question it, didn’t register the way his touch lingered, how his gaze darkened as you were left in nothing but your undergarments and put into one of his long shirts.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It felt like a dream, the world around you fading as you slipped deeper into the heavy pull of sleep.

“Goodnight, princesa,” he whispered against your lips, his voice velvet-soft.

But as your eyes fluttered closed and your breathing evened out, Carlos lingered. He didn’t even manage to pull the blanket over you before he noticed how still you’d become, how utterly weightless you were in the depths of sleep. He called your name softly at first, his hand brushing your cheek, but there was no response.

His lips curved into a slow, dark smile, the shadows in his expression deepening as he realized you were completely at his mercy.

“So perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. He traced a finger along your jawline, down the slope of your neck. “You don’t even know, do you? How much I crave you.” 

His hand paused, hovering over your collarbone as his breath hitched slightly. “So innocent,” he whispered, his tone laced with something heavier, something darker. “And mine.”

Carlos let the words hang in the air, savouring the weight of them as he gazed down at you—his perfect little captive in a dark world you’d never even imagined existed.

There was a fragile innocence to the way you looked now, the soft lines of your face unburdened by the day’s worries, the slight parting of your lips as you breathed peacefully. He reached out, brushing his knuckles gently along your cheek, his touch featherlight as if you might shatter beneath anything stronger.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, mi vida,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur in the quiet room. “How much I—” his words faltered, caught between his throat and his heart. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to exhale slowly. “How much I adore you.”

His fingers traced a path down your arm, stopping just above your wrist, where he lingered. You were so trusting, so unguarded with him. It filled him with an overwhelming ache, a desire to protect you, to shield you from the world. Yet that same trust was a double-edged sword, cutting deep into the darker corners of his mind where thoughts twisted into obsessions he could never confess.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger there. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Too kind. Too pure.” Each word carried the weight of unspoken truths, emotions he’d buried due to fear of frightening you. You deserved someone gentler, someone who wouldn’t feel this burning need to keep you so close, to ensure you never left his side.

But you were his. You just didn’t know how much just yet. 

A pang of need coursed through him—deep, consuming, and utterly unrelenting. A lazy smirk graced his lips, his hands wandering over your body more than he’s ever done before. He didn’t stop, after all this was all part of his plan—his carefully crafted plan that would allow him to do whatever he pleased with you.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, almost as if confessing to himself. His hand moved instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch so tender it could’ve been mistaken for reverence. “How much I need you, completely.” 

His mind wandered to your words from a few months ago, when you first began dating. You had sweetly confessed in a meek tone that you wanted to wait until marriage for any intimacy. At the time, he had nodded, reassured you that he understood and respected your decision. And he had, for a while. But with each passing day, every innocent touch from you, every fleeting moment of closeness, the restraint he prided himself on was unraveling. 

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, the words heavier this time, steeped in a quiet obsession. “You’ll always be mine.”

Carlos leaned down, his lips hovering just above your temple. He kissed you there softly, lingering as he inhaled the faint scent of your skin. The thought of you saving yourself for some abstract moment in the future felt intolerable now. A ring? A ceremony? Those things were meaningless to him. You were already his in every way that mattered. Every way but one, which he had planned on changing tonight. 

“It doesn’t matter, right princesa?” he whispered as if conversing with your unconscious body. “A piece of paper won’t change what we are. What we’ll always be.” 

You were an angel in his eyes—pure, untouchable—and yet he couldn’t stop acting on the darker thoughts that had crept in his mind. “You’ll let me take you now, right?” he asked, a wicked smile tugging at his lips when you didn’t respond. 

“You’ll understand one day. You’d forgive me because you love me,” he spoke, relieved, finding a justification for what he was about to do. Love. 

His fingers trailed down your body, finding the hem of your shirt. He inhaled deeply before pulling it up, revealing your bare skin underneath. The glow of the moonlight streaming through the curtains bathed you in a silver hue, making you seem almost otherworldly in his eyes.

He leaned forward, his knees sinking into the mattress as he settled between your legs, his body close but not touching yours just yet. Carlos lowered his head, his lips brushing against the curve of your stomach in the gentlest kiss. The warmth of your skin beneath his mouth sent a shiver coursing through him, and he allowed himself a quiet sigh, his breath fanning over you.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with reverence and something deeper, darker. His hand rested lightly on your hip, his thumb tracing small circles over your skin. The rise and fall of your breathing was steady, unbroken, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how serene you looked, so trusting, so utterly unaware of the storm of emotions raging within him.

Carlos trailed another kiss just above your navel, the soft press of his lips lingering as though he could imprint the moment into his memory. His free hand slid up along your side, fingertips tracing the delicate lines of your ribs as he murmured softly, “I’ll make you feel so good.” 

Carlos continued his trail of kisses, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your lower stomach before stopping just above the edge of your panties. He nearly hesitated, letting the intimacy of the moment build, before pressing his lips firmly against the soft cotton. The barrier of fabric only spurred his imagination further, and he closed his eyes as if savouring the moment.

His teeth grazed the edge of the fabric, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Carefully, he bit down, trapping the waistband between his teeth. He tilted his head, pulling the material taut as it lifted slightly away from your skin. 

Carlos released the fabric, letting it snap back against your skin with a quick sound that sent a shiver of satisfaction through him. His hand, which had been resting on your side, slid down to your hip, his grip firm but not overbearing.

“You don’t even know how perfect you are,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His lips hovered just above your skin as he let out a soft exhale, his breath warm against your bare stomach. “Every inch of you, so soft, so untouched. You drive me insane, mi vida.”

His fingers ghosted along the inside of your leg, his touch featherlight yet deliberate, igniting a trail of warmth beneath his fingertips. He traced the edge of your panties, his thumb brushing over the thin fabric that covered the most intimate part of you. The part he was never allowed to touch. 

The heat radiating from your body made his breath catch in his throat. His hand dipped lower, his fingers pressing lightly against your cunt, feeling the warmth and softness beneath the barrier of fabric. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he pressed a single finger against your covered clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles.

Carlos lowered his head, his lips so close now that his breath fanned over you, hot and unsteady. He paused, savouring the moment, before pressing a kiss right where his fingers had been, the contact soft yet deliberate. The fabric between you only added to his desire, a fleeting barrier that made the moment feel even more tantalizing.

Filled with dark intent, he glanced at you, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest to confirm you were still asleep. His hands moved with purpose now, his fingers hooking onto your panties. Carefully, he pulled the fabric to the side, his movements unhurried as if he had all the time in the world with your pliant body. His eyes darkened, breath hitching as he finally saw you all in your glory. He dragged his fingers over your now bare pussy, teasing the slit, separating your delicate folds. 

The sight of your glistening pussy was too tempting to resist. He swiped his tongue across his lips, aching to taste your sweet cunt. “See, I knew you’d like this,” he whispered, watching your wetness grow with each slide of his fingers, coating them completely. “I wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me have you, nena.” 

He collected your slickness on his fingers before bringing them up to his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he slipped them between his lips, his tongue swirling around them greedily. The taste of you consumed him, rich and intoxicating, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through the quiet room. 

“You taste so sweet,” he murmured against his fingers, as though tasting you had confirmed something he’d always known. His gaze flickered back to you, his expression filled with a mix of awe and hunger. 

His hand returned to your thighs, holding you gently yet firmly in place as though you might stir and pull away. But you didn’t move, your body relaxed and unaware under his touch. He let his lips press against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of slow, deliberate kisses as his other hand returned to your pussy. His fingers traced over you again, teasingly light, as though memorizing every moment. 

“Dios mío,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe. “You’re even more perfect than I imagined.”

Finally, he pressed a lingering kiss to your bare pussy, his lips soft and warm against your folds. He started slowly, careful not to jolt you awake, his tongue tracing a gentle path along your slit. A low groan escaped him, the sound vibrating against you as he savoured every second. 

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured against you, his voice muffled by his proximity. His tongue flicked over your clit with teasing precision before returning to lap at you more fully, his movements unhurried and methodical. Each stroke of his tongue was a worshipful caress, his hands holding your thighs steady as he worked. 

Carlos alternated between firm, deliberate licks and soft, teasing circles over your clit, his mouth devouring you with a hunger he could no longer restrain. His fingers dug into your thighs, hard enough to leave bruises behind. 

“Absolutely perfect,’ he said between kisses, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. He tilted his head slightly, his tongue delving deeper as his lips sealed over you, sucking gently before pulling away with a soft, wet sound. 

A low groan bubbled from your throat, making him pause. He glanced up at you from between your legs but you were still sucked into the depths of sleep. He chuckled, almost in awe at your subconscious reaction. “Mm, there we go, I know you like this.”

While he continued flicking his tongue over your clit mercilessly, his fingers teased your hole. He couldn’t believe it’s been untouched all your life—even you hadn’t dared to learn how to please yourself, leaving it up to your future husband. He found it rather cute, so innocent. He wished you allowed him to fuck you while you were conscious just so he could see your eyes rolling back, your lips parting as a soft sweet moan would’ve escaped when he slid his finger inside. 

Instead, he had to settle for a groan that came from him when you shifted just an inch. Your pussy swallowed his finger greedily, clenching around him as it struggled to decide if it was a welcomed intrusion or not.  

Carlos retreated his finger, briefly glancing at the wetness that coated it before pushing back in. He set a steady pace, allowing your body to become accustomed to the unusual intrusion before adding another finger. He curled them inside, and if you were conscious, perhaps you would arch your back as pleas left your lips. 

His hardened cock ached to be released from the confines of his boxers, precum staining them yet he focused on your pleasure first. He might’ve chosen to take you in a vulnerable moment, one in which you had no say, but he wasn’t cruel. He settled on moving his hips against the mattress, allowing temporary relief while he prepped you to take him. 

He was now three fingers deep in your cunt, scissoring and curling them inside to prepare you for the inevitable stretch his cock will provide. Leaning closer, he wrapped his lips around your clit again, sucking sharply in time with his quickening thrusts. Wetness gushed around him, coating his lips and fingers, even dripping down to stain the sheets beneath you. Pressing one last kiss to your cunt, he retreated his fingers completely, watching your pussy gape before clenching around air, searching for the lost pleasure. 

“Patience, nena, I know what your pretty little pussy needs,” he murmured breathlessly. 

He leaned back, kneeling on the bed as he hooked his fingers in his sweatpants and boxers in one go before sliding them down together and tossing the clothes aside. His hard, leaking cock ached to be inside you, enveloped by the warmth that only your virgin pussy would provide. His fingers dipped inside your cunt, collecting your wetness before wrapping his hand around himself. He smeared your slickness all over his cock, mixing with his precum that dripped from the tip. 

Carlos dropped his head back, moaning shamelessly as he worked his hand over himself. Whispered curses left his lips mixed with murmurs of your name as he neared the edge rather too quickly. He shut his eyes tightly when he forced himself to slow down his pace, not wanting his fantasy to be over before it even properly started. 

When he opened his eyes, he looked at you—still unaware, softly snoring away. He smiled as he trailed his gaze over your body, but when he reached the beautiful sight between your legs, he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, preventing another moan from being unleashed. 

He couldn’t wait any longer, almost overcome with another wave of dark intent swirling in his mind. Holding his cock in one hand, he lowered his body, settling between your thighs again. The first swipe of his tip along your cunt had him shuddering with pleasure. 

Separating your delicate folds with his cock, he nudged your clit a few times. Your pussy twitched around him, and feeling that sensation through his cock only reaffirmed his reasons as to why he chose to do this. He was already obsessed, but that one taste of your cunt turned him feral, unable to restrain himself any further. He was too far gone, and he wouldn’t stop until he was buried deep inside you. 

He slid his cock lower, guiding it towards your hole. Inch by inch, he pressed inside. Your tight cunt almost naturally pushed him out, your sleeping state squirming at the thick intrusion. He didn’t relent, he was going to have you one way or another. Bringing his free hand closer, his fingers circled your clit slowly, allowing you to open up to him. 

“C’mon, princesa, I know you can take all of me,” he gritted through his teeth, your tightness almost overwhelming for him. 

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside before pushing back in, forcing you to take him an inch deeper this time. His pace on your clit remained merciless and as he repeated his movements a few times, he was soon completely buried inside your pussy. 

A low exhale left his lips as he savoured the tight walls of your cunt holding him inside, the heat welcoming him graciously. He held himself above you by his hands on each side of your head, his face hovering close to yours. “Thank you, mi vida, I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” he whispered almost reverently to your sleeping state. 

Inhaling deeply, he began moving slowly, barely pulling out before burying himself to the hilt again. Burrowing his face into the crook of your neck, he set a steady pace of his hips moving back and forth. He placed lingering kisses below your ear, murmuring low praises in between his moans. 

Your pussy greedily sucked him back in every time, earning a dark chuckle from him. “Oh, my sweet girl, if only you hadn’t made me wait so long.” 

He slammed his hips into yours sharply, angling deep inside you to earn a twitch of your body. “I tried, you know, I really did,” he confessed, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear. “But every time you wore those—mierda—skimpy clothes around me,” he panted softly, “it was too hard.”

He continued whispering all his deepest, darkest confessions in your ear, knowing you weren’t awake to listen. “Had to jerk off so many times in the shower, thinkin’ ‘bout your sweet voice, to the way you say my name.” 

As his words turned filthier, mingling with scattered praises, he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming borderline brutal. Your body squirmed beneath him, jolting with the movements of the mattress shaking due to his weight. The headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust, but he was lost in the pleasure of your tight cunt to notice. 

“I love you so much, mi princesa, and I promise I’ll give you a ring,” he reasoned, his thoughts melting into one jumbled mess. “Jus’ couldn’t wait.” 

Suddenly, a loud broken cry left your lips as your body jolted beneath him. His movements faltered, watching you with wide eyes as you forced yourself to wake. When your gaze met his, a shroud of horror overtook your emotions. “Carlos—” you gasped, your mouth dropping open as you slowly realized the vulnerable position you were in. 

He should’ve stopped, should’ve slipped out of your cunt the moment he realized you were awake—too early, he noted—but he didn’t. Sliding out almost completely, he slammed his hips into yours, his cock forcing itself into your cunt. 

You screamed, horrified, yet it was tinged with a hint of pleasure—the only reaction he focused on. “Mi vida,” he tried, only to be met with a sudden force of your arms trying to push him away. 

He merely chuckled, watching as you grew impatient with each shove yet you were still too weak, slowly coming to from the effects of the sleeping pill he had slipped into your meal. Tears filled your eyes when you realized he wasn’t relenting, your lip wobbling as fear filled your body. 

He clicked his tongue in disapproval, bringing his fingers to your face, lightly brushing your cheek. “No, don’t cry, nena, I only want you to feel good,” he cooed.

His words clashed with his actions, his voice still dripping with sweetness but his cock continued to bully to your pussy. “Why?” you croaked, eyes nearly rolling back as an unwanted wave of pleasure coursed through you. 

“Because I love you,” he simply replied, but it wasn’t the words you were hoping to hear. How could he love you and still force his way into your cunt, without your permission? 

This wasn’t the Carlos you fell in love with, no, he was kind and caring. But now, trapped beneath him, you only saw desire in his eyes, those very eyes that once looked at you fondly were now replaced with the reflection of every dark thought that lodged its way into his mind. 

His fingers returned to your clit, circling in time with his thrusts, earning a broken moan from you. A wicked smile graced his lips as he finally heard the sweet sound of your pleasure. “You like this,” he said calmly but you didn’t agree. 

You began shaking your head violently, trying to contain the moans leaving your lips but it was too hard. This was the first time you were bestowed with such pleasure, enveloping you completely. You never expected it to happen this way, your virginity taken not by your husband on your wedding night but stolen from your boyfriend with cruel intentions. 

“No, no, no, please stop,” you pleaded, but your actions weren’t cooperating with your words. Your legs tightened around his waist as you inched closer to the edge of your very first orgasm.

“Make up your mind, nena, you say you don’t want me, and yet…” he trailed off, angling his hips differently to thrust deeper inside, earning another moan you couldn’t contain. “...you’re clinging to me so desperately.”

“Please,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“Please what? Let me make you feel good, like you deserve,” he punctuated his words with deliberate thrusts. Pleasure coursed through your veins like a spark, clouding your better judgement as you fell closer and closer to giving in. 

When you didn’t respond, he doubled down, slipping his cock out of you for a brief moment, earning a cry of loss from your lips. He grinned, knowing he nearly had you exactly where he wanted you—begging, pleading to let you cum. “You’re mine, we both know that, why wait?” 

He didn’t give you time to process his words, his strength overpowering yours as he flipped you over effortlessly, pressing you face down into the mattress. His hands gripped your shoulders with firm control, guiding you back onto his cock with a deliberate and unyielding force that left you breathless. 

Each thrust of his hips drew muffled moans from your lips, the sounds swallowed by the soft embrace of the bedding as you buried your face to stifle your cries. Any semblance of dignity you had clung to slipped away completely, shattered the moment his hands claimed you with ill intentions—so dominating, so consuming that resistance felt futile. 

His chest pressed flush against your back, the heat of his skin searing into yours as he slowed his pace, trading relentless urgency for deep, deliberate strokes. Each thrust felt more intense, his cock filling you completely, dragging out every sensation as he ground himself deeper with agonizing precision. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his lips brushed against the back of your neck, soft and teasing as first, until he began trailing kisses lower. His lips moved with purpose, leaving a blazing path over the curve of your shoulder blades, before his teeth grazed your skin. 

You gasped in surprise when he sucked harder, his mouth marking you with a bruise that promised to linger long after this moment. The sharp sting melded with the overwhelming pleasure, leaving you caught in a haze of sensation you couldn’t escape—ones he wouldn’t let you escape. 

Each kiss, each bite, each slow, grinding thrust made it harder to think, harder to hold on to anything but the raw desire pooling in your core. 

Your body trembled beneath him, every thrust breaking down the last of your defences, leaving you raw and exposed. The slow grind of his hips was torture, pushing you to the brink only to pull back, keeping you on the edge until the need became unbearable. You clawed at the sheets, your whimpers turning into desperate pleas as the fire in your core burned hotter, threatening to consume you. 

“Please,” you gasped, your voice muffled against the mattress. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. Just—just take me. I’ll do anything.”

Carlos chuckled darkly, his lips grazing the back of your neck as he drove into you harder, his pace quickening, his control slipping. “Anything, huh?” his voice was rough, dripping with amusement and something darker, something that made your entire body shiver. “You’re finally giving in, princesa? Finally ready to stop pretending you don’t want this?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you surrendered completely. “I’m yours. I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“Good girl,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust harder, deeper, making you cry out. “That’s what I wanted to hear. You, begging for me. Pleading for me to fuck you.” 

Your pussy clenched around him, the coil of pleasure winding impossibly tight as his words sent sparks of heat racing through you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus on anything but him—his touch, his voice, the way he owned you completely. 

“Gonna fill you with my cum, nena,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “Gonna get you pregnant with my babies before I even put a ring on your finger. How’s that for waiting ‘til marriage?”

The filthy promise made your head spin, the image too vivid, too overwhelming. The heat in your core shattered, a cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm washed over you, leaving you trembling and gasping beneath him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his pace growing erratic as your cunt milked him, dragging him to the edge. “You’re so perfect—so fucking perfect.” 

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his release spilling into you in hot pulsing waves. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he let out a low, guttural groan. 

“You feel that?” he murmured against your ear, his voice still rough, still full of that possessive edge that made you weak. “That’s me, claiming you. Making you mine.” 

You couldn’t utter a word, your thoughts racing through your mind before you could comprehend them. Your body was still trembling as he stayed there, buried deep inside you, his hands never letting go. Finally, he eased out, earning a low, almost silent whimper from you. He carefully turned you around, able to see your tinged cheeks stained with tears. 

He gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His cock twitched at the sight of your teary eyes, and the dark intensity in his gaze made your heart race, even as a sly, satisfied smirk spread across his lips. 

“See, I know exactly what you want, what you need,” he said, his tone teasing but firm. “Don’t ever try to deny me again, nena, because this? This is just the beginning.”

His grip loosened, fingers brushing over your jaw as his smirk softened into something almost tender. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and all-consuming, his tongue coaxing yours into submission. It wasn’t rough like before—it was possessive in a different way, claiming you in the quiet aftermath of his dominance. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the intensity in his gaze began to soften.

“You took me so well,” he murmured, his voice low and warm now, threading a hand through your hair. “Better than I could’ve imagined. You’re perfect, nena, just like this.”

He eased you back against the mattress, his body still covering yours but lighter now, more protective than overwhelming. His thumb stroked over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as his lips brushed against your temple. 

He cupped your face, tilting it up toward him again, his expression softer, though the possessiveness still lingered in his eyes. “Stay here,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your lips before slipping away.

You heard the sound of water running, the rustle of fabric as he moved around, and when he returned, he had a warm, damp cloth in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He settled beside you, his touch impossibly gentle as he cleaned you up, murmuring soothing words each time you winced from the sensitivity.

“You did so good for me, princesa,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your hip as he worked. “Took everything I gave you like you were made for it.”

When he finished, he set the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in his warmth. His chest was solid against your cheek, his heartbeat steady and grounding as he stroked your back in slow, comforting circles.

“Gotta make sure my girl’s okay,” he said softly, the edge of dominance in his voice replaced with something deeper, almost protective. “You’re mine, nena. Mine to protect, mine to love, mine to ruin in all the ways you crave. And I’ll never let anything or anyone take you away from me.”