When I Tell You I Was Speechless

NO ROLE MODELZ・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. lando can't help but be addicted to y/n, high and all.

WARNINGS. 16+, smoking and getting high, suggestive-ish, just high hotness

NOTE. a small something that i needed to write about lando. will i ever write anything else? who knows. let me know what you think <3

edit: i highly appreciate all ur kind words, however this is a secondary blog so i cannot reply to comments, but rest assured, i love reading them <3

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lando feels like he's in hell. blinks once, then twice, as if the lids of his eyes would wash away the red haze that weighs upon his sight with inclemency. it remains, however, like a vision straight from an inferno, although the heat that licks at his skin burns from the inside out, shredding inches of cooperation with it, and he curses sober him for leaving his leds on a permanent ferrari hue. the open window, a leeway for cooler air, deems fruitless upon his body, probably as red as the lights that succumb him to complete disorder.

his limbs feel disassociated, flowing without a sense of control, yet it excites him vehemently. the feeling of nothing but complete euphoria meandering and intoxicating him feels so fucking good, and he doesn't want it to end.

no pressure, flying without wings, he loves it so much that he's almost addicted. finds it ironic that the fear of being so inexplicably hooked unto something dwindles away when he realises that the bad feels, really, like the opposite.

movement comes from beside him, then a few seconds later, the biting smell of smoke crawls into his nose, and if he had any prior disdain towards it, he doesn't show as his body melts with a sigh. his fingers tremble as his arm raises, and the girl beside him slots the cig between his fingers.

"you're a fucking goner, aren't you?" her words are slurred, not as much lando thinks his would be, but she still sounds confident. his lips curl upwards and he hums, turning his head to meet her too-perfect side profile, tracing every peak and dip with his eyes.

"feel like i'm fucking ascending."

"good," she assures, then as the song bleeding through his bluetooth speaker slides into another, he watches as her eyes shut and her lips smile.

he wonders how someone infiltrated with obscenity, sin, can look so beautiful drenched in red. it pulls him in, makes his heart twist like never before, and his whole being knows he needs her. she equates to freedom, to a life that stings with too much addictive liberation that lando would cry if she were to disappear.

his eyes never leave her. not when her lips move to sing the lyrics of j cole, neither when her fingers, smooth and warm, tangles in his, moving it towards her mouth before taking a drag. the view before lando is so fucking hot, his heart collapses in his chest and the bliss that wires his brain squeezes it tighter.

then he feels her body move on top of his, striking every nerve ending in his flesh and his eyes open as fast as they can in his inebriated state. she's just as high as he is, eyes red (to be frank, he can't tell whether it's from the lights or not) and nearly shut, but she grins as her hips rests on his and god, does lando's mind short circuit. there's so much friction and heat that he can't move, and he just half-liddedly stares at her as she takes another drag.

"feels good, doesn't it?" she asks, all loopy and hot. he wants to cry.

"so fucking good." his mouth moves on its own accord.

she smiles, and she's singing again.

'don't save her, she don't wanna be saved.'

then her hand moves the cig to his lips and he sucks in as much smoke as he can. it burns his throat, like an open fire tickling his insides, and he needs to cough, but doesn't, going to blow it out. as he does so, she leans forward, warm, soft lips open around his own and takes it right into her mouth.

lando feels everything and nothing. feels the way his hands come up to her waist and squeeze the flesh there with much familiarity, but it's also as if there's nothing there as his movements are so weak, he might as well have no hands at all. he's scorching all over, and it feels so good, so so good, that he can do nothing but close his eyes and let her continue to suck his soul out of his chest.

im sitting in a corner by myself rocking back and forth thinking about gnf i wanna bite him

I am not crying:')

i'm ill

i wanna suck on his fingers like a whore

Nine-Nine!

Yor Forger | Spy x Family Episodes 13 - 17

You’re fucking telling me that:

“If Gods can bleed, gods can die,”

And

“I was born and raised in Utah,”

Are two phrases that exist within the same Minecraft role play series

crimson forest phone backgrounds