oztri

[oztri]

im struggling with drawing smth new and tbh I don't feel like anyone would be interested in my rambles about life, so here is the next part for my maxiel art post that I'm now not sure if I ever have time to finish

basically my fave pacific rim au

[oztri]

reminder that whilst yet another premiere of the F1 movie hits the world with its misogynistic representation, today June 23rd we celebrate the International Women in Engineering Day🤍

[oztri]

carcar inseminate him

carlos and insemination obviously leads me to the carcar condom conundrum.

Carlos, who thinks of himself as a good catholic, is obviously like "using condoms is bad. god doesn't want me to." but Oscar is like "what are you, stupid, using protection is like the first rule of gay sex, are you even on PrEP?" and Carlos isn't because being on PrEP would mean accepting himself and obviously the more logical solution would be for him to quietly torture himself by pretending to be straight in most situations (around his dad, at work, etc.) and then getting drunk and slutting it up intermittently in a way he tells himself is good enough and what he wants (lie).

so anyway that's how he ends up more-than-tipsy in Oscar's apartment on an off-week, with Oscar hunched over him on the bed, pressing the tip of his bare dick against Carlos's hole and arguing about prophylactics. and Carlos is like "it's my body, my choice, just do it" and Oscar's like bitching at him and making these sarcastic little jabs about how Carlos is irresponsible but the effect is kind of ruined by how he's fucking into Carlos bit by bit, bare, teasing, just the widest part of him splitting Carlos wide without any real relief. at this point, the fighting isn't even foreplay because they're actively having sex and Carlos is still rolling his eyes and pursing his lips in that way that Oscar hates (it makes him look at Carlos's distracting mouth, which he tries not to do otherwise) while Carlos is working his hips up in twitchy little thrusts to pull Oscar deeper into him.

and then maybe Carlos says something flippant like "it's not like you're going to get me pregnant" and Oscar (heretofore unknown breeding kink awakened) is like "yeah? you'd like that" and then they're both like 😳😳 and Oscar's like fuck it! and just finally drills into him bare and carlos obviously can't really feel the difference but Oscar does, and he actually makes sex noises for the first time and Carlos holds his breath so he can hear them over the sound of Oscar's hips driving into him. and then uh Oscar comes inside him and Carlos has a weird prostate orgasm that makes his ears ring and come just kind of drips out of his purpling cock, and it's INSTANTLY weird and they both hate how far that went and are kind of like grossed out by how into it the other person was (projection; both are grossed out by how into it they themselves were).

and then they don't talk or hook up for like 3 months.

[oztri]

You have just been magically transported into a random ao3 fic!

Spin the wheel of ao3 tags three times to find out what your fic is about. Put in the tags what your fic tags are!

[oztri]

post-happy death race carcar sex (undernegotiated free use adjacent)

Carlos plays dead all the time.

He fake chokes on a steak, pratfalls down his motorhome steps, floats face down in an ice bath long enough for one of his merry men to snap a photo.

He thinks it’s funny, he thinks it’s a private joke between them.

Oscar gets fucking cardiac arrhythmia every time. He tells himself it’s exposure therapy for if the Sainz family curse strikes again, but he wants to walk around with an AED like a briefcase, pads stuck to his chest and ready to shock.

When he does it back, he tells himself it’s revenge.

He runs to Carlos’s apartment and fucks off for the shower upon arrival. Carlos tries to follow like he always does. He doesn’t even shower with Oscar, he just stands in the tiny space, open-mouthed and watching, a bulky hot overwhelm. The last time he did it, Oscar opened his mouth under the spray and let it fill. Carlos leaned in and licked up the overflow, tongue lapping throat to lip.

This time, Oscar presses a hand to Carlos’s chest. “Just me, yeah? Alone.”

Carlos frowns, stumbles back a little, rebuffed. “Oh.”

Oscar shuts the door on him.

He showers too long, killing time, washing things he’s never washed before. He drools water out of his mouth and feels the rivulets slip down his body. He imagines Carlos on his knees, licking the drops up from his ankles. 

He shuts off the water, steps out of the shower, and lies across the tile on his belly.

Carlos doesn’t keep him waiting. He knocks after a couple moments, before Oscar can even get bored and go for his phone. He always gives Oscar space when he wants it, never intrudes. He must know this is something different. Tragically, he’s learning the rhythms of Oscar’s mind, knowing when to run and when to chase.

A knuckle rap, a sing-songy nickname: “Ostar?”

Oscar stays silent and stays down, feels the seam of the tiles on his forehead.

Carlos opens the door. He doesn’t sound like he’s administering self-defibrillation, so he’s already doing better than Oscar. He crouches at Oscar’s calves, walks two fingers up his Achilles tendon. 

“Oscarrrrr, you are facing the wrong way. Your feet should be the opposite. And there was no bang. You should have made a bang.”

Prone and naked and unmoving, Oscar whispers, “Bang.”

Carlos chuckles, deep and low. He bends over and sucks water off Oscar’s spine.

Oscar shivers.

Carlos leans back, traces one fingertip over the arch of Oscar’s foot, right on the edge of ticklish.

If Oscar laughs, the game is over.

“Oscarrrrr.” Carlos drags his thumb over each of Oscar’s ribs: bump, bump, bump. 

If he sticks his finger in Oscar’s ear, the game is over.

But he presses his fingertip into the back of Oscar’s knee instead. Then into the seam of his hip and the swell of his asscheek. Dot to dot, intentional presses—he’s chasing freckles. “Oscar?”

Oscar doesn’t say anything.

Carlos flutters his fingers over the backs of Oscar’s arms, along the lines of his palms. The light touch makes Oscar’s skin pebble up and the hairs stand on end.

Carlos clears his throat. Voice hoarse: “Do you…”

Oscar squeezes his eyelids tighter. If Carlos finishes the question, Oscar’s taking off the toe tag.

Carlos doesn’t finish the question. He drinks water from Oscar instead, big lips sealing and sucking over the places it collected: the dip of his back, the curve of his elbow. He runs his tongue along the cleft of Oscar’s ass, light and barely there, and Oscar presses his forehead into the grout, hard.

Then Carlos bites the flesh of his asscheek, growls with a rumble that Oscar can feel in his dick, and shakes his head like a dog with a bone. It’s fucking stupid, typical Carlos insanity, and it pulls Oscar back into his body, into the shower drips in his hair, the sweat under his arms, the slick leak of his hard dick onto the tiles. He chuffs a quiet laugh and shakes his head, bridge of his nose squishing onto the tile.

Carlos blows a raspberry onto Oscar’s ass, then stands up, breath and body heat gone.

Oscar might have to kill him for real, trip him down to the shadow realm of the bathroom floor.

But he’s just pulling his clothes off, his fucking bike shorts unpeeling in a Lycra squirm. And he’s back, spread heavy and endless over Oscar, panting into his shoulder blades.

Without ever intending to, Oscar’s come to know the kinds of erections Carlos gets. Right now he's velvety and swollen up against the back of Oscar's thigh. The way he gets when he’s desperate and untouched, skin softer because he can’t get fully hard without friction. He wriggles up, nuzzling into Oscar’s hair, grinding down until his shaft slots into the channel of Oscar’s ass.

They’ve never done it like this before.

Oscar’s never done it like this before, but it was the only way Carlos had ever done it before Oscar.

Carlos has never asked for it. He wants it too much the other way, wants it all the time—

Carlos groans, bites the lobe of Oscar’s ear, suckles in sharp, panting pulls. It’s a dry grind, but it’ll probably get him off anyway, too similar to the tried and true bed-hump-finger-suck.

Oscar wants to fucking yell. He wants to unzip his skin and smother Carlos with it. He wants to say, if you don’t do it now I’ll never let you.

Carlos pushes Oscar’s shoulders down. He whispers, “Tranqui, my love,” and Oscar can hear the smile in his voice.

Oscar bites his tongue and flares his nostrils and mentally spells the word homicide.

Carlos backs off again, and Oscar decides that if he tries to retrieve lube they’ll never speak again.

But he doesn’t. He hovers above and spreads Oscar’s ass open and licks one synapse-snapping stripe up the center, deep, from his balls to his back.

Oscar chokes, “What the fuck.”

“Shh,” Carlos soothes, air over spit-sensitive skin. “Quiet, quiet.”

He licks again, tongue flat and wide.

Oscar’s brain doesn’t know how to categorize what he’s experiencing. It cycles through a slot machine spin of sensations: hot slugs, jacuzzi jet, multiple orgasms, podium champagne, end of the death loop.

Carlos keeps doing it, sloppy and ravenous, saliva-soaked nose burying in.

Oscar’s cerebrum flatlines.

Carlos slides up, supports himself with a hand next to Oscar’s head. He works his other hand under Oscar, between his straining cock and the tile, just cradling, giving him something soft to fuck into, because that’s what he likes to do, Carlos fucking loves this—

And then he’s sliding his cock through the mess he made, up through the slicked up channel of Oscar’s secret skin. It’s not real fucking, it probably feels nothing like real fucking, but he’s gasping and drooling into Oscar’s neck, whispering things in Spanish that he’s said before, things that Oscar memorized and later repeated into a translator app, things that made him feel more raw and achy and exposed and irreversibly changed than playing dead on a bathroom floor and watching the taper of Carlos's fingertips and the flex of his wrist tendons and knowing that he's fucked for life—

Oscar’s orgasm is blistering and claustrophobic, trapped between Carlos’s palm and the rest of him—pinned and helpless—and Carlos is groaning too—messy, messy—he always comes so much and now it’s all over Oscar—

Carlos tugs at him, manipulates his shoulders, gets his mouth on his. Kissing, a desperate sloppy-second tongue fuck, and then he breathes into Oscar’s mouth, a slow insistent press of hot air into his lungs.

Oscar coughs, pushes him off so they’re both sitting up. “Mate, what the fuck?”

Carlos grins. The ends of his hair are damp and curled. Oscar wants to eat them. He wants to eat Carlos’s hair. He wants to eat all of him. Viciously and reverently.

“I was bringing you to life, Oscar. You are alive now, from my kiss of life.”

Oscar laughs and trembles with aftershocks and imagines erasing Carlos’s number from his phone.

“You have a thing here.” Carlos draws a line over his own forehead. “An imprint from the floor.”

Oscar rubs it. “You’re a floor imprint.”

“I will suck it out.” Carlos dives forward, big mouth open and seeking.

“Fuck off, you’re going to give me a forehead hickey again—”

“No, I know how to do. Hush, I can do. I am so good at it, Oscar, I am so good. It is like how you get a dent out of a car, you—”

“Oh my fucking god.” Oscar covers his forehead line and his hot cheeks and his dumbass mouth that wants to say too much, playing dead again.

[oztri]

oscar making lando laugh for 4 minutes straight

2023: "am i a funny teammate" "...no!" -> 2025: "we both have our laughs"

sorry the audio's testy!

clips from @eightyonefour @moefroyogurt 🥰

i took a LOT of liberty with some of the scenes, but i do think they get the point across! i def missed out on a lot but when i realized this was gonna be 4 mins i was like. uhm. oh well. i've been thinking of making another landoscar video after this one, and the first 2 clips have always been rent-free in my mind. now they're forever together.

[oztri]

lando is a very good guy / i'm happy he said that

post-canada gp collision '25 / the importance of kindness / qatar sprint race '24 switcheroo / oscar's vogue interview / lando congratulates oscar on his f3 win / lando celebrates oscar's first f1 podium / growing old together

[oztri]

the reaction after he stands up for his family — single parent universe

second part to this.

text au. ig post. 2k words. drivers: max, charles, oscar and lando.

note: i promised there would be a second part, and here it is. i tried something different, so i hope i didn’t disappoint (although i have the feeling already this wont be everyones cup of tea, so im sorry in advance!).

thank you to everyone who sent requests that led me to create this cute universe. ive had the greatest time with it, and i know it wouldnt have happened without your ideas. so thank you ❤️

──────────────────

MAX

First, came the soft click of Oliver’s bedroom door, and then the lazy thump of Max’s feet making his way back to you. 

Leaning your side against the kitchen counter, you knew a conversation was coming. From the moment you heard the question and turned the TV off, to the moment Max arrived home with a smile on his face, you knew it wouldn’t be something either of you could ignore. 

“Fucking hell,” he murmured as soon as he stepped into view, both hands running up and down his face. “I can’t remember the last time I wanted to punch someone’s stupid face this fucking much.”

You pressed your lips together and shifted on your feet, stepping away from the counter. This was the first moment alone the two of you had gotten after the race, the first moment without a little boy demanding attention, and the first moment Max was finally letting it all out. The anger, the frustration, the disappointment. So you didn’t want to shush him. You didn’t want to tell him he shouldn’t be cursing and swearing right now, that he should be careful, that he should think before he spoke. It didn’t seem fair to him, especially after he had clearly tried his best to put on a fantastic show in front of your son. 

“Did you watch it?” he asked, voice closer than before.

You nodded, removing the whistling kettle from the hob and stepping towards the empty mugs. “Just saw the video. We were watching it live on TV, but I turned it off as soon as I noticed what was happening.”

“Shit.”

“Oli didn’t hear a thing tho, don’t worry about it.”

You took your time filling the first mug, watching how the tea bag floated and swayed in the water, then eventually sank into the bottom. 

“They were so out of line,” Max said, his voice a quiet whisper in the bright kitchen. “I can’t believe that question even crossed their minds.” 

“I know…” 

“But I caught his name,” Max added. “And I had a meeting with the team as soon as I called the interview off. I’ll make sure that guy doesn’t get a fucking word from me anymore.”

You nodded again, and poured boiling water into the other mug. His mug. 

A moment went by before you felt him. Before he wrapped his arms around your waist, rested his chin on your shoulder, and pressed his chest against your back. 

“You ok?” he asked, voice low and too close to your ear. 

You placed the kettle back in place and nodded, one hand resting on his forearm and the other reaching to touch his face. 

“Yeah…” you said, your body instantly leaning into him. “I’m just… I hate that you had to go through that.”

Max nodded, his facial hair brushing your skin as he moved to kiss your palm. Once, and twice. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “For putting you two in this position.”

At that, you frowned. You dropped your hand and shifted on your feet, turning to properly face him. 

Max’s exhaustion was written all over him. But there was also worry there. Maybe a little bit of fear, too. 

“Hey,” you said, hands cradling his cheeks, eyes firm inside his gaze. “Don’t be silly. What you did for us was amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The way you stood up for us… The fact that you won’t let anyone speak about our son like that… That’s what I care about.” 

He sighed, then leaned in. Forehead resting against yours while he closed his eyes. 

“Our son,” he repeated, like he was savouring the words. 

“Mhmm…” You nodded, slightly. Just for him to feel the movement face to face, skin to skin. “It was really hot, y’know? To see you like that…”

Max smirked. Eyes staying close while he listened to you.

“The way you talked about us… How you got all worked up… When you said ‘that kid is mine’?” You sighed. Loudly than you normally would. Your hands moving down to his neck, shoulders, then back to cradle his face. “And then when you stormed off… Damn you, Max.”

A low, amused chuckle escaped from his chest, his whole body shaking lightly against you. “I should’ve figured you’d like that.”

“You should, yeah…”

You leaned in, then. Your lips barely meeting his before you pulled back again.

Max reacted instantly, taking a step forward and fully pressing you onto the counter, his feet slotting between your legs. “Hate teasing,” he murmured, already crashing your mouths together for a much needier kiss. 

You smiled, his lips barely giving you any time before he was capturing them again. 

And again. 

And again. 

──────────────────

CHARLES

──────────────────

OSCAR

──────────────────

LANDO

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Lando said, leaning against the handrail and watching Olivia run around the synthetic grass of the paddock. Just like you had been doing for the past ten minutes or so. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said. “They were the ones who crossed the line.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” you said, curling your lips into a smile just in case someone was watching you. “Like I said, it wasn’t your fault. That’s not up for discussion.”

Next to you, Lando sighed. Loudly. 

You heard it, you felt it. 

His unhappiness with your answer.

So you shifted on your feet, crossed your arms on your chest, and kept your eyes ahead as you said, “You stood up for her. That’s what matters to me. I wish these things didn’t happen at all, but it’s not up to us. We can’t control what others say or do, but we can control how we react to it. And the way you reacted… That’s how I want it to be. So as long as you stand up for her, just like you did today, then you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

For a moment, Lando didn’t talk. Didn’t move. Didn’t react. He just stared ahead, focusing on the little girl that had everyone’s attention as she distributed papaya-unicorn stickers all around. And then, when you thought he would finally speak up, he just coughed and looked away. As if taking a break to organize himself before returning his gaze back to her. 

To your daughter. 

Yours, and his. 

“Should we go inside?” you asked. “Talk inside?”

He shook his head. “She’s having fun… I just… I wanna watch her for a while.”

You nodded, but your heart skipped at that, and you couldn’t help but sigh and take a step closer to him. Unwillingly. Without thinking. 

Elbow almost, almost touching his arm. 

Lando’s whole body stiffened. 

He stretched his legs, straightened his back, and pulled his arms closer to his sides. 

And the tiniest gasp left his mouth. 

Once again, you couldn’t help yourself—you snorted, bringing your hand to cover your mouth and lowering your chin to look down at your feet.

“What?” he asked, quietly. But you could hear the smile in his voice. The amusement. Growing just like yours.

“Shut up,” you said, muffled behind your hand. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

Shaking your head, you held back your laughter and looked up, eyes meeting your oblivious daughter. Happy and full of energy amidst so many strangers. 

You dropped your hand back down to cross your arm around your chest, and after a beat, you murmured, “I can already imagine a video going viral…”

You caught the way he nodded. 

Neither of you ever facing each other.

But keeping the conversation for only the two of you to hear. 

“Lando Norris avoids contact with his girlfriend,” he said. 

And then, you cackled. Dropping your head back and laughing to the sky while bringing both hands to cover your mouth. 

Next to you, Lando chuckled as well, albeit not as hard. The soft sound making its way to you and adding extra warmth to your already heated cheeks. 

He waited until you had calmed down before speaking again, the playfulness hinted in each syllable of each word. “Little do they know… All along, I’m the one who’s been deprived of love.”

“Oh my God,” you grunted and laughed. A mix between disbelief, but also joy. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“Dramatic? Please. I’m just a boy… Standing next to a—”

You gasped and turned your body, leaning onto your side so you could face him. 

“—a girl… Asking her to hold my hand.”

“Lando…”

“Or give me a hug.”

“You do not get to quote my favorite movie back at me.”

He shook his head, eyes still fixed ahead of him. “Just anything,  really.” 

You pressed your lips together and turned back to Olivia, a sigh leaving your chest while you watched her engage in a conversation with some other kids she had met earlier that day. 

“You know that’s not how it works.”

Lando, on the other hand, simply smirked to himself.

“What I know is that you won’t love me in public.” 

“Because you get way too handsy!” you reminded him. “And you don’t know how to kiss me in public. You always end up going for a full make out session. Why is it so hard to keep it simple?”

“Because it’s you!” he laughed. “Can’t help it if you’re irresistible!”

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged. “If you can’t help it, then we stick to my rules.” 

“Fine.” 

“No PDA.”

“I know.”

“That’s all.”

“Yep.”

You sighed. 

He sighed. 

Max and Pietra stepped out of hospitality, both of them stopping to chat with Olivia before she pointed straight at where you were. Lando’s best friend looked at you and nodded with understanding, meanwhile his girlfriend waved and lowered her weight to get Livie’s attention. 

You knew, from that on, that Max and Pietra would keep an eye on her. That they would stay around and give you two a chance to take a little break, like they usually did. 

“I never thought I could get so mad at someone,” Lando blurted out. So out of nowhere that you needed to blink a couple times to make sense of it. “I’m watching her right now and it’s just… Look at her… She’s the cutest child around here… She’s kind to everyone… Makes everyone laugh… Always has the funniest, most random comments… And she’s so sassy and bold in such an adorable way… She’s just perfect. How can they… I mean how can they even ask something like that? I don’t get it.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you found yourself unable to reply.

“I meant what I said, y’know? About being proud of being her dad… I know it’s not on the paper… But I don’t mind that… Like it won’t make me love her any differently… What we have now it’s something I’ve earned, y’know? We’ve built it from scratch… I know you wouldn’t have allowed me to be here if you didn’t mean it… So I just… I can’t imagine my life without you anymore… Both of you. And I hate that they tried to use that against me… Because they knew what they were doing when they asked that… They knew they would touch a nerve…”

The emotions in his voice touched your nerves, your instincts, your need to protect him and stand up for him. And before you knew it, you were already walking. Already stepping away from the handrail, turning to him and closing the distance. Until you were standing in front of him and then close enough to crush your body to his. Wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek against his chest. 

“Whoa…” Lando stumbled the slightest, the handrail keeping him in place as he placed both arms around your shoulders and kept you close. Close. Close. Close. “Hold on with the PDA, love.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled. “Just take it.”

At that, he chuckled. Chin pressed on your temple and arms squeezing you tightly. 

“Your favorite words.”

“Lando!”

“What?!”

You pinched his hip, and he flinched.

“Heyyy!” he laughed.

You smiled, cheek all nuzzled onto him while the world kept moving around you. While the public walked up and down the paddock. While curious eyes and intruding cameras watched you. 

“I love you,” you said. “And I’m so proud of you. Really. Thank you, for everything you do. For who you are. I can’t imagine our lives without you anymore, too. I don’t want to know what it would be like to go back to a life without you. So again, thank you.”

“Who are you and what—”

“Lando!” 

“Ok, ok,” he laughed. “I’m shy, I get nervous…” 

“I know, but I had to say it.”

He shifted his arms, his hug getting both gentler and tighter at the same time. 

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear. “And I can’t wait to show you how much. But Livie is running up to us right now, so I’ll keep it to myself for now… Just for now.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

──────────────────

[oztri]

oscar "i enjoy being the hunted" piastri and lando "we want to beat each other" norris... bunny!oscar and wolf!lando...

oscar who is constantly teasing lando, constantly has him in his mirrors, always messing with him. and lando... lando is so patient. he's so sweet and kind and just smiles when oscar teases him. until he doesn't one day.

until one day, he has oscar pinned to the wall of his driver's room, bunny ears stick straight as he stares at lando, pupils all big and wide, heart rabbiting in his chest as he bites on his lip.

"you like being chased? like feeling hunted? well, now you're caught, little rabbit. what now?"

[oztri]

are we still talking about hands? https://x.com/lanvoire/status/1937469209258402062?t=pKa4x9X0zSp_rVXgtjCYCg&s=19

I JUST GROWLED AT MY PHONE PLEASEEEEEE

no bc i watched this today at work and i literally had to grip the desk. i want him so bad. i need to hold his hand and compare hand sizes bc what the fuck is wrong with him!!!! how are his hands so fucking big!!! LANDO THATS LIKE A SURFACE TABLET AND UR HAND IS ALMOST AS BIG AS IT????? IM ILL. IM ILL!!!!!

[oztri]

i have 100 followers 👁️👄👁️ thats crazy omg hiiiii

[oztri]

https://www.tumblr.com/oztri/786846714408714240/lando-loves-holding-hands-during-intimate-moments

don’t even get me started on lando fucking norris hands.

WHY DO UCTHINK I MADE THE POST IN THE FIRST PLACE RAH!!!!!

im obsessed with his stupid fucking hands. bc for what FUCKING reason do they need to be that big. WHATS THE REASON!!!! big and wide and his fingers are thick and long im going to explode i need to take a break

[oztri]

you know when lando speaks in such a low and soft tone, like in one of the videos from the f1 movie premiere mclaren posted on instagram and he was showing off his outfit... I just know he uses that tone to talk you through it

im so normal about this im so fucking normal about this i am SO normal... jesus fucking christ i had to go back and rewatch which video you were talking about and now im on the ground...

god no because he literally would use that tone to talk you through it. he'd have you bent over, cock buried inside you with his lips right up against your ear while he whispers praise and nasty shit in your ear. "is that good, baby? you feel me right... here? yeah, i know you fucking love this..."

or, he'd have you laid up against the headboard of the bed with your thighs spread wide open while he talks you through touching yourself. "just like that, angel... yeah, that's good. do you like that? good, keep going. feel good for me, love. c'mon..." and he's got his hands on your thighs, keeping you spread open while you whine and whimper and get yourself off for him.

im so fucking normal i promise

[oztri]

dry humping with oscar... dry humping with oscar in your underwear... dry humping with oscar and he slips his cock under the band of your panties... dry humping with oscar until he gets sick of it, able to feel how wet you are every time his cock catches on your hole, making the both of you groan. dry humping with oscar until you're begging him to put it in even though you both agreed that you weren't going to do that, you couldn't. it wasn't right. but now, it's not dry humping anymore. oscar's ripped your panties and has you moaning on his cock, fucking into you recklessly until he's spilling into you with a loud, high pitched whine, shoving in as far as he can get, making sure he leaves you leaking when he leaves later.

[oztri]

kittens and crafts pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4

[oztri]

idk if you've seen it but there's this clip from saudi post-race in the cooldown room where they're watching oscar overtake and charles asks "that's you?" and oscar nods back so confidently like omg i would've given him the most soul-snatching head ever he looked so good. we all know that he's not one to boast a big ego but he's so hot when he's confident like that 😋😋

(don't even get me started on the spain win lowkey moaned a little when he was up there he looked so good)

YYEYEERRRHAHHGRGHAHHH

sorry im normal. im SO normal. confident oscar is so 😵‍💫🤤 he is so delicious. AND HE SHOULD BE CONFIDENT. MY MANNNNN he deserves the most soul sucking head ever and i hope he whines while he gets it!

(spain win had me screaming in my place of work... oscar piastri you are that girl...)

[oztri]

oscar “i enjoy being the hunted” piastri.