Kse22chili - Katerinapetrova

Hands Like Carved Marble - LN

Summary: There's a lot of things that Lando can do to turn his girlfriend on. But sometimes he doesn't even have to try for her to be hot and bothered.

Themes (18+) Minors DNI: Smut, hand kink, slight dom!Lando, cockwarming

No part 2 requests please

Y/n genuinely believes that Lando's hands could inspire art. Hell they probably have inspired art from his fans.

But the things she thinks of when it comes to Lando's hands are sinful.

All Y/n ever wants to do is have Lando's hands on her, and if she can't have that then she's constantly reliving memories absently. Just those memories get her flustered and almost embarrassed.

A man's hands should not have that much of an effect on her honestly, she needs to get herself together.

"You alright, baby?" Lando asks innocently while y/n looks at Lando for a moment.

"Yeah, why?" Y/n mumbles as his hand comes up and he presses the back of his fingers to her forehead only for her to flinch away. "What are you doing?"

"You look a little warm." Lando smirks and suddenly the innocence is gone, he knows exactly what he's doing.

"You're a dick." Y/n grumbles making him laugh.

"One camera close up of my hands and I'd bet I could get you off easily." Lando sighs very much loving the type of effect he has on her without even meaning to. "It's not my fault that you are so effected my hands."

"Please shut up." Y/n groans covering her face as it heats up more and she feels like she's just impossibly hot right now.

"Feeling sticky?" Lando hums which he's surprised doesn't actually earn him a slap. Instead she turns and walks away with him laugh and following her since he might be winding her up and poking fun but he's absolutely going to take advantage of his girlfriend being a puddle as soon as his hands touch her. Or actually sometimes that's not even needed. He doesn't really need to touch her for the effect to be present.

He rushes after her and moves quickly to get himself following her closely and hopefully not raising suspicious.

"You are something else, baby." Lando states as he locks the door to his room. "I like that you make it so easy for me."

Y/n wants to be mad but she's already too focused on the look in Lando's eye, that sort of reflective glint that they take when he's got his mind set on what he'll be doing with his hands just to make her melt.

"Not that I think you need it, but get them wet." Lando instructs gently pulling her jaw down to place his middle and ring finger, sliding them against the slick wet of her tongue.

Now usually y/n can have a bit of an attitude. As retaliation for Lando accidentally turning her on so often without even trying, she can be a bit of a tease. But she knows when to be quiet for her own benefit.

"Stay quiet." Lando instructs as he feels her manage to get his fingers soaked in her spit.

As soon as Lando pulls his fingers from her mouth, he's pressed her up against the door his free hand over her mouth since the woman can't stay quiet to save her life. Especially when his hands are on her.

His hand slides up under her dress pushing her damp panties aside, feeling her thighs quiver either side of his hand.

As soon as his fingers slide into her, the muffled moan coming from gently pressure on her g-spot and toying with her clit. He's quite literally got her in the palm of his hand.

Lando would argue to anyone else that y/n is not easy, but when it comes to being at the mercy of his hands. She's really the easiest to have literally dripping on the floor.

Y/n is almost dizzy feeling his large hand over her mouth accompanied by the overstimulation of his fingers thrusting in and out of her while his thumb presses and plays with her clit.

He keeps muffling any noises coming from her which are getting louder and more frequent as things build up. Her thighs press together over his hand, trapping him as she feels her orgasm strike. He's practically holding her up just with his own muscle as she shakes and shudders, spasming on his fingers while he tries to keep her muffled moans at bay.

Sure, more than half the unit has got to know what's happening but this isn't the first case of this happening and it certainly won't be the last. Thankfully everyone is too polite to mention it.

Y/n whines before she swallows breathing heavy against his hand as she looks at him with heavy-hooded eyes.

Slowly he removes his hand from her mouth, moving his arm to catch her when she proves unsteady on her feet.

"Alright, baby. I got you." Lando laughs as he finally gets his hand back from the tight press between her thighs. "We need a make sure clean up, baby."

"My dress..." Y/n whines making Lando look at her.

"We'll clean it up, I promise...although we may want to start keeping spare clothes for every time you decide you need to have my hands on you."

-

Sitting on a plane with Lando for a flight home after a race can actually be relaxing and actually y/n prefers commercial flights because the turbulence is less intense.

Y/n gets distract though when Lando is trying to get their movies to start at the same time so they can watch together but on separate screens.

"You are unbelievable. I haven't even done anything." Lando laughs shaking his head at her when he notices her gaze glued to his hand and her getting once again, hot and bothered.

"Shut up." Y/n whines before he smiles and reaches his hand over letting her just have hold of it to sort of play with. She's always fiddly and uneasy, but sometimes she really just finds comfort in his hand being in her grasp.

Oddly it's pretty comforting to Lando knowing he can somewhat settle his girlfriend, again with such minimal effort from him.

Y/n ends up curling up holding Lando's hand and brushing the tip of his finger over her lips, sometimes outlining them and sometimes just brushing it up and down as she focuses on the movie. Oddly Lando is the one between them who can't stop thinking about her rather than her being focused on and distracted by Lando's hand.

Although she completely falls asleep with his hand pressed tightly against her cheek.

-

Y/n smiles in a state of relaxation while they're in bed as she feels Lando run his middle fingers up and down either side of her spine. The feeling of his hands on her making her shiver a little before she removes her face from his neck.

"Are you ok?" Lando asks softly as he cups her face, rubbing over her lips with his thumb, the fleeing of her pulsing around his dick just from her attention going to his hands. "I want to say you need to learn to control yourself, but I really love this."

"Lando." Y/n whines suddenly grinding herself down on him a little while Lando grunts. His hand going down to hold her throat as she starts to ride him.

"Fuck, easy baby." Lando groans as she begins to bounce on his dick, her own hand going up over his own as he tightens his hold on her just enough that her airway is slightly restricted.

Y/n's head drops back as she feels his other hand move to hold her own, intertwining their fingers and locking their hold together as she fees her climax coming to a peak and when it hits they're both in their high together.

"That's it baby." Lando soothes gently sliding his hand down her body to help her guide herself to lie forward on him again.

Y/n twitches and spasms around him still feeling full with him as she keeps a tight hold on his hand, just settling down against him again.

"Do you just want to stay here like this for a bit?" Lando asks softly earning a nod as she turns her head to focus on his hand, releasing it just so she can trace over the prominent veins that she is so attracted to.

our little teddy bear

lando norris x oc

words: 200

“I can’t look at her.” Lando comes in, holding your daughter out away from his body, face turned.

“Lando, what?” You question, instantly worried something is wrong.

“I can’t look at her!” He exclaims again, setting her down on the couch cushion next to you and backing away. “She’s too cute, if I look at her, I’m going to cry.”

Keep reading

Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere. In bars, in cars... sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man.

Taxi Driver (1976) dir. Martin Scorsese

Hawaii.

While listening to “wayamaya” by lana del rey (lizzy grant) made me feel all good about summer. Here in my hometown is hot as fuck. And I’m dying from the heat; summer is hot and floral. Not floral as in “full of flowers” but the atmosphere of it. Like, singing country songs while running through the fields full of green and flowers, with the sun shining and hitting on my head; but I put a hat over my head and a pair of sunglasses, happy with what I have. My mother has brought me up this way: free and young. She says that we can be 80years old and still feel young and free. In fact, she had taught me to keep living through everything, either hard or easy. She has taught me to be easygoing, thoughtless and free; the most important part is to live the carpe diem or nocte diem. So, to live the present day; the “me” of today. Is it possible to be you when you want to be you? Yes.

So can I be free and easygoing, today? Of course.

The point is: be happy with what you have. You have little money, no worries. Live the little things you have around you. It’s not hard you know? I am writing this while being me. It’s summer and it’s hot as hell, but I keep on running through these fields of words; unknown words. Like me.

I might know who I am and how I am, but you don’t. Am I running now through your mind?

Oh yes I am.

I might be crazy but what I say is true.

Us, poets, have the right to control readers’ thoughts. We have a unique talent; dancing to elvis presley’s harmonies and putting words in a sheet paper. We are all set to follow the command of our creativity, which allows us to put words together and to bring the imagination of something impossible into your eyes.

And that’s why we are poets. We are big wave surfers living in the Wayamaya bay.

God is a woman | MS47

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1k ― Warnings: +18; not proofread; suggestive content and mentions of sex; Minors DNI! ― Summary: Making out in bed never felt this deep and heart-stopping, but dating Mick and having him love you is a full experience of being a goddess. Your hips were his altar, and he would swear to everyone that God is a woman because you're it to him. ― A/n: I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts by reblogging and/or leaving me an ask (anons are on) *mwah* 🤍

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

The candles were lit by the bedside table and the furniture by the closed window casting a warm glow in the whole room. It was early in the evening, but Mick and Yn were already in bed. In fact, they haven’t left it since the early hours of the day, just soaking up each other’s company and enjoying a lazy and free day. She was wearing one of his shirts and panties, while Mick settled for sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips, showing Yn the perfect amount of skin and trimmed hair that trailed into his boxers, but she was engrossed in one of her poetry books, while Mick tried to gather his thoughts after waking up from a nap. His fingers were tracing shapes on one of her thighs that were on top of his, he would squeeze and massage, and then with the tip of his fingers write his own poems. 

“It’s so interesting how Rupi Kaur portrays the feminine as divine, the creator, the goddess…” Yn observes out loud catching Mick’s attention. 

“That’s because it is.” His short answer makes her close the book, searching for his face.

“Huh?” 

Mick shakes his head and takes the opportunity to hover over her figure, eager for some of her love and light. Yn smiles, forgetting about whatever question she had on the tip of her tongue, the only thing her mouth wants now is him. 

When he dips his face and kills the space between them Yn whimpers widening her legs to shape it around his narrow waist, and lacing her arms around his broad shoulders. Mick coos when Yn drags her hips up to grind against his crotch. He trails wet kisses around her collarbone and neck while whispering praises and Yn enjoys it all with her eyes closed. She feels his fingers on her waist, he grips and squeezes, and then his fingers are tracing shapes on her tummy, and just a few seconds after they’re holding her ass softly, bringing her close to him. 

Yn moans.

Mick mumbles something in German.

Yn moans louder.

He smiles against her skin before chasing her lips again and kissing the air out of her lungs.

“Even your skin tastes good,” Mick whispers in a jovial tone before dragging his tongue on her neck, and Yn giggles hugging him close and looking for his neck to hide her face onto.

“Micky…”

“And your lips, they have the perfect shape, Schatzi,” the point of his index finger and middle finger trace around the shape of her lips, and Yn bites it lightly. 

He feels his heart skip a beat when she mouths an “I love you” to which he answers by pressing their foreheads together and staring into her eyes. The room is silent, but Yn can almost hear all the words his blue orbs are screaming. 

When his back hit the mattress and her body is on top there’s a glow on his smirk, and they enjoy the hazy and the push and pull of the frantic kisses exchanged. The blonde is the one who pauses for a second, taking a deep pull of air into his lungs, and carefully watching his girlfriend on top of him. Mick’s fingers trace the outline of Yn’s nipples, her belly, collarbone, shoulders, jaw, and chin, before finally answering the question she threw at him minutes ago. 

“The feminine. You’re living proof that God is probably a woman.” He grips her waist and Yn moans with the contact. “I’m your follower, your hips are my altar,” he whispers into her ear before biting and nipping her earlobe. 

And then he dips to say something else Yn can’t catch because it’s certainly German and it’s whispered against her skin in such a low tone she can only concentrate on the vibrations between her breasts.

“You always make me feel so good,” it’s a confession, but it's nothing new to Yn. It’s his prayer to her. “I can’t get enough of you, Yn. I could never. Ich werde dich ewig lieben.”

“Micky,” Yn can only meow his name too entranced by his touches and words. 

“Does that feel good, Schatzi?” Mick asks and Yn nods, “Use your words.” It’s his soft demand to which she obliges. 

“It feels perfect, please- just- kiss me, touch me, Mick.” 

“You know I’ll do whatever you want me to.” 

The German keeps muttering praisings to her while kissing his way up to her lips. One of his hands is inside her shirt, caressing and playing with her boobs and nipples. He’s eager to nip and kiss it the way he’s doing with the exposed skin of her collarbone and neck, that’s why his smile gets bigger when Yn makes a move to take off the piece of clothing and throws it somewhere in the room. She lies fully on top of him and he sighs in contentment with her warmth against him.

“You’re so pretty, honey.” He kisses the side of her head and almost melts when he feels Yn’s smile against his skin, he wants to engrave it there, to always feel it, to always know that she’s happy and taken care of. “Your body takes me so well all the time,” and this time she hides her face in the crook of his neck, though her body seems unaware of how shy Yn is feeling because her lower half ruts against Mick’s hardening cock. “You’re a goddess.” He takes her hands and kisses each finger, opening her palm and dragging it softly against his cheeks. “I love you so so much.” 

And then Yn is smiling against his skin again. Feeling warm and fuzzy. Feeling loved, adored, worshipped, chosen. Knowing that indeed whatever she wanted the man under her would give. Sun, stars, the world, Mick would try for her.

“There’s a spot for you in my heart, only for you.” She nips on his white skin and kisses her way back to his lips, but before their lips touch their eyes met, talking, confessing what no idiom can translate: how transcending loving each other can be. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I didn't quite like this piece, but I hope the anon that sent the request and you guys enjoyed it at least a bit <3 Don’t forget to water a plant and water this account too (you water this account by reblogging and leaving me a message if you’re comfortable, it means a lot to me, and makes my imagination bloom just like a flower would) *forehead kiss*

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Farmer’s daughter

I don't believe l've ever met anyone quite like you. Taxi Driver (1976) dir. Martin Scorsese

I thought I was going to forget about him, but somehow he always comes to my mind. Specifically today. I’ve thought of him, so many times, that I’m really close to jumping out of the window.

Weirdly, we had a favourite song in common. Guess what song? “i was all over her” by salvia palth.

Ridiculous innit? Very much so.

Listen, he was a tremendously basic guy who loved fucking around and doing drugs. I’ve got nothing against it, but like when you do smth don’t brag about it. On god y’all, when he’d start bragging about the spliffs or blunts he’d do every hour, I would fall in a mental crisis. Bro was an attention seeker. And did I give him attention?

Nope.

Now, let’s leave all the poetic stuff. I’m already pissed the freak off. Guys think that girls are attracted to them doing drugs or smoking stuff or drinking bs or i don’t even know man, doing stupid shit. When in reality motherfucker, I personally think you all are toxic as fuck.

Listen, if I do blunts, I do them and I don’t say shit to anyone. Cause I’m doing it bc I want to do it. Like, first of all, I’m doing them in secret. How the fuck does it even come to mind to tell somebody else what you just did? Do you get me? As in, bruv you do drugs? Perfect, cool, good for ya. Whaddaya want me to say to ya? “Oh darling you’re so amazing! You’re giving a great example to all your friends, and you’re being really healthy to me. Truly spectacular! Your talent of doing drugs will help you achieve your goals in life! Go on like this!” or do ya want me to say “Oh daddy! You are so hot! Please give me the blunt so I can take a hit too while you’re pounding me in the ass!!!!”

Like ew. Ew man. Ew boy.

I just hate how we are totally focusing our attention to unnecessary stuff instead of fighting for what is really worth fighting for. There are important things to focus on. Like where we live in, the people we live with, what we do etc. Why can’t we focus on improving our body language and our behaviour towards other people? For example, trying to stop the trend of embracing overrated “emotions” like anxiety, for starters.

The four main emotions are “mad, glad, sad and scary”. All the other “emotions” are a mix of two of these main emotions.

What does that mean? It SHOWS us that we need to focus more on these four emotions. Because, how are we going to improve our performance in “feeling better” or “fixing ourselves” without first of all acknowledging these four main emotions?

We all go to the therapist and psychiatrist or psychologist for help. To try and “understand” what’s our problem. What are our problems? Do we have an issue? Oh! My therapist diagnosed me with social anxiety!

Now is it really fair to you to behave this way with your listeners or readers or idk watchers? Because we are all making psychological serious issues or problems into fucking normal ones. As in, people are romanticising problems. Instead of embracing them and finding a solution to it, we jump into ADVERTISING OUR PROBLEMS TO THE WORLD. (bc it’s super fun!!!!!!) (it’s all sarcastic btw)

This is all too funny to me.

We are all fucking puppets. And egoistical fucking monsters. There are real people that have gone through terrible trauma and they aren’t SPONSORING their life and problems bc they seek for attention and fame. There are people that, for this tiny opportunity that all the other egoistical worms have selfishly used, they would have left behind their own lives.

We always say how “life is unfair” or “life is such a bitch” but nah uh baby. You are such a bitch. You are unfair. Because YOU are making this society really unhealthy to the other people. We are destroying our lives. We are destroying our community. We are destroying our world. We are destroying our race. And we our destroying ourselves.

Aren’t we unfair?

Aren’t we such bitches?

This all thing doesn’t mean any harm. It’s all a thought provoking essay. Just a reflecting tiny writing. Creative let’s say.

Danke.

there’s a place where lovers go

to cry their sorrows away

and they call it lonesome town

where the broken hearts stay