p1astr81

[p1astr81]

omg i loved your spiderman osc au!! are you considering doing more when you're ready or was it just a one-off idea?

I love love LOVE spideyosc like that’s literally him (ugh especially the your friendly neighborhood spiderman one like THATS HIM)

I’ll absolutely write more of him if I get the inspo or requests for it!!

I also have already written a mini series some time ago (which was heavily inspired by homecoming) if you want to read it and haven’t yet I’ll link it here!!!

[p1astr81]

꩜ i never break my promises ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

spiderman!oscar piastri au

Oscar dove in through your window, rolling onto the floor. He groaned in pain, chest heaving, clutching his stomach.

You jumped up from the couch, scolding him immediately. “Jesus, Oscar! I have a front door-“ you paused, seeing the blood seeping through his suit. “shit, shit, shit.” you ran your hands through your hair as he yanked the mask off his head. “Shit!” You gasped, seeing the gash across his cheek. His face was screwed up in pain, eyes squeezed shut. “Okay. Stay- stay there I’ll- fuck,” you breathed, already off to the bathroom. You made a mess of the cabinet under the sink, fumbling to find everything you need.

When you returned, he’d pulled himself to sit up against the wall.

“I need you to take your suit off.”

Oscar managed a breathless laugh. “No foreplay?”

You glared. “Don’t try and be funny. I’m trying to stop you from bleeding out.”

He grinned despite his body thrumming in pain. “Feisty.” He quipped. The suit was peeled from his body until it hung loose around his hips.

Leaning in closer to inspect the wound, you poked and prodded at the surrounding skin, earning a hiss. “Jesus christ,” you breathed. “Lay down for me, yeah?” You were up and off again, running a hand down your face.

He groaned with every moment, pain igniting throughout his entire body with every shift.

You returned just as he settled.

“Is that a sewing kit?”

“A suture kit.” You corrected.

“What? Why?”

“Because my idiot boyfriend gets into fights and then refuses to go to a hospital when he gets hurt.” You weren’t looking at him, but the annoyed smile on your face was meant for him. Though, he could see right through it—right to the fear and concern in your eyes.

Another weak laugh, followed my a loud hiss as you poured saline solution over the wound. “Good thing I have a doctor at home.”

“I’m a med student. It’s not the same thing.” He knew the irritation in your voice came from a place of love.

“Close enough.”

You just shook your head. “Okay, this is going to hurt.” You warned him before stabbing the needle through his skin.

Every time he hissed or cursed or flinched, an apology would follow right after.

He was panting by the time you were covering the wound in ointment and bandages.

The gash on his face wasn’t as bad. All it needed was a bit of ointment and a bandage.

“‘M sorry.” You apologized again once you were done.

He sat up, wincing as he did. Grabbing your face with his hands, he forced you to look at him. He kissed you, soft and slow like he was reassuring you that he was okay. “The only person who should be apologizing is me. I’m the one who keeps getting blood on your floor.” His laugh wasn’t so breathy this time. “And I scare the living shit out of you every time, and don’t try to argue, because I know you and I know I’m right.”

You sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. “I just wish you weren’t so reckless. and I know you try not to be, but every time you leave I can only think of the worst, and I hate that every time come through that window bloody and bruised it’s a fucking relief because the alternative is-“ you couldn’t even finish, too choked up. You just collapsed into him.

His hands were tangled in your hair immediately. “I know.” His dull nails scratched your scalp. “I think the worst part about doing this is that it scares you.”

It was your turn to give a weak laugh.

“But I’ll always come home to you. I promise.” He grinned. “And I never break my promises.”

[p1astr81]

I’m having mega writers block rn I’m sorry guys😭😭😭

[p1astr81]

Sigh, Oscar who doesnt choke you in public but will slide a hand to grip the nape of your neck to keep you close or as a silent sign for you to stop being a little shit UHGHHH

him leaning down with a simple

"Behave."

THE WAY I KUST JHFBWICHOWNXOC I NUST GASPED OUT LOUD HEA DIN MY HANDS. IM ELABORATING ON THIS WHEN I GET HOMEEEE FUCK U!!!!!!!! GOD PLEASE!!

okay i hope u like this. i need him so badly.

oh god. okay. oh god okay… im gonna say smth probably controversial (depending on who u are) but to ME. to ME!!!! oscar i dont think is much of a brat tamer. he doesn’t really get into that side of D/s often. keyword being often. you’ve dabbled in it, definitely. a little orgasm denial here, a little overstimulation there. you’ve switched a hundred times, played with titles in bed. oscar’s down for anything at least once, if i’m honest. but he doesn’t really have a thing for taming. stay with me here.

oscar is a patient man. it takes a lot to get him riled up. to get him to the point of snapping, putting his hands on you in public. but, when he does, it lands like slap. like thunder and lightning crackling around you everywhere. his hand is heavy, like a weight to remind you of who you are. more importantly, what you are.

he’s shy, for the most part. in public, the most you’ll get is a hand on the knee under dinner tables or gently intertwined fingers while you walk somewhere. he’s not a huge pda person, preferring to keep it to a minimum and save all of his love for when the two of you are alone.

but today, you’ve tested everything you knew oscar to be.

it’s some sort of dinner event. sponsors, alcohol, fancy outfits. the whole 9-yards. you both would rather be anywhere but there, but y’know. oscar does kinda have to show face if he wants to be employed. it’s literally in the job description.

oscar was busy talking with a few people, offering polite smiles and hearty laughter when the joke skewed just the right side of comical. and boy, did he look good. fitted suit, dress shirt done up all the way with a cute little bowtie. his pants were tailored perfectly around his thighs and his watch glittered under the lights. you had no idea what he was talking about. stocks, shareholdings. who gives a shit, you thought, eyes stuck on oscar. how could you care about anything except for how good he looks?

your mouth waters as he reaches up to ruffle his hair a bit, grown long and soft, just how you like it, lithe fingers flicking a long strand from his eyes. his hands. all thin fingers and knobby knuckles. they’re always so soft, despite the calluses on his palms. he’d just trimmed his nails that morning, too. you’d been begging him to let you do it.

suddenly, the open bar is a little more appealing than before…

you saunter over, passing oscar. he glances at you, a short, subtle check-in as if to ask, “you good?” you nod back, smiling and making the motion of taking a sip with your hand. he lets you go. on your way, you’re not at all subtle about how your hand grazes his ass, giggling when he jumps. who could blame you? it was just… there!

your drink is cool in your hand. some specialty cocktail the bartenders were making for the event. it was a shade of blue you couldn’t pronounce, but it went down easy as you sat back down at your table. oscar had made his way back, too, smiling fondly at you when you pressed to side once more.

“try this,” you coo, holding the drink out. he raises an eyebrow, but takes the drink at your insistence. his face screws up, nose wrinkling.

“that is so tart,” he grouches, making you giggle. the drink is set on the fancy, white table cloth, oscar’s hand find your knee under the table. he gives it a soft squeeze, loving. fond. you reach down to hold his hand, offering the same squeeze.

the event drones on as marketing executive after social media manager after shareholder sits next to oscar, talking his ear off. you grow bored.

thinking nothing of it, you lift your hand, catching a stray curl that’s fallen into oscar’s face. he startles, eyes glancing at you. you just smile, shrugging as you pull your hand away. “sorry. looked soft,” you tell him. the wife of the man he’d been talking to just laughs.

their conversation carries on, oscar doing his best to pay attention when you’ve now got your hand on his knee. it’s innocent at first. tentative, a grounding pressure. he smiles when you first rest your hand there, covering it with his own. it’s beneath the table cloth, he��s relaxed. there’s no harm done.

his shoulders hunch immediately when your hand slides up, just the slightest. your fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, gently. his eyes go just the slightest bit wide, imperceptible to everyone but, well, you. you knew him best. better than anyone in the room. the muscle under your fingertips tenses, a slow breath leaving through oscar’s nose.

giving him a few more teasing squeezes, you release his leg, sitting up a bit. a sip of your drink, a polite smile at the couple across from you. you’re as innocent as ever. no one would be none the wiser.

oscar’s eyes dart toward you when you shift. “all good?” he mumbles, voice a bit stiff. he cracks a bit on “all”, making you grin.

“‘m fine,” you breathe out, reaching for his hand, resting under the table on his leg. he was rubbing his palms against the material of his pants. you tsked, taking his hand and bringing it to kiss his knuckles. the couple cooed at the two of you, but you saw the flicker in oscar’s eyes.

as the couple dismissed themselves, smiling and offering soft, parting pleasantries, oscar turns to look at you.

“what are you up to?” his eyebrow raises, lips parted as he waits for an answer.

“nothing, osc. just enjoying the event,” you sigh, letting your eyes trail over the room. the gaudy curtains hanging from the ceiling, the obnoxiously orange inflatable in the corner, meant for taking photos with #ad in the caption.

he opens his mouth to say something when lando comes over, clapping his hand down on oscar’s shoulder. “oscar, boy!” he cheers, squeezing through the suit jacket. “alright, mate?”

oscar nearly jumped out of his skin, hand clutched to his chest. your eyes trail over it, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“jesus christ, lan!” oscar laughs, shaking his head. “was good til you almost gave me a heart attack.”

their conversation fades in your ears, too busy tracing the lines of vein on the back of your boyfriend’s hand. imagining the way those deft fingers wrap around the neck of a trophy. how they look when he’s lifting weights. when he’s got them shoved in your—

“honey?”

you blink. once, then twice. you swallow, jaw clicking with it as your brain practically reboots itself. “sorry, did you say something?”

lando looks at you, amused, while oscar’s eyes widen, then narrow with faint recognition. he knows that look. the way your pupils are a little bit bigger, the way your lip is tucked away between your teeth. the way your eyebrows relax into this expression of want.

oscar’s voice is a little bit lower, words slowed down. “lando asked if you could check the name card next to you.”

you process the question, before you’re reaching for the small card. it’s a pretty cream color, with black calligraphy and golden embellishments. in thick ink, sure enough—“it’s got lando’s name on it,” you mutter, glancing up at the two. he smiles, easy as he sits next to you, letting go of a heavy breath.

“i tell ya, osc. these things never get any easier,” lando grumbles, leaning back in the chair. it creaks under the weight. “seven years and you’d think you’d be used to this shit by now, but no.” he waves his hands around, flapping them as he speaks.

and, of course, you take notice.

lando’s hands are like baseball gloves. he could probably palm a basketball, easy, you think. his palms are wide, fingers thick and long. completely different to oscar’s. oscar didn’t have small hands, not necessarily, but they certainly weren’t whatever bear paws lando norris was working with.

and oscar, your oscar, who knew you just as well as you knew him, caught the way your breath stuttered in your chest. he caught the way your mouth parted, just barely. your eyes followed his hands as they moved, explaining something that he’d had to cancel to be here tonight.

oscar’s hand lands on your thigh, heavy and grounding. at first, you don’t really think anything of it. really. it’s just oscar being affectionate. then, he squeezes. it isn’t hard. there’s no harshness to the way his fingers dig in, but it certainly does catch your attention.

and, oh. oh.

“lando,” you say, snapped out of whatever reverie you’d fallen into.

he quiets immediately, turning to glance at you. “mhm?”

“do you have to have custom gloves made?” his eyebrows furrow, visibly confused. he opens his mouth, trying to speak, but you cut him off. “it’s just—your hands. they’re huge. there’s no way the fit in a standard racing glove.”

you watch the flush that tinges his ears with some unbridled glee. he pinches the tip of his ear between his fingers, a clearly nervous tic. he’s flustered. oscar’s hand tightens around your thigh. you spread your legs just a bit, feeling a low, warm curl through your gut.

“i mean, they’re not that big?” lando’s voice pitches up, soft giggle leaving him. “are they? i don’t think my gloves are any different from oscar’s. are they?” he looks past you and at oscar. and, oh, the look on oscar’s face is more gratifying than flustering lando could ever be.

his jaw is set tight, biting down on his molars like it’ll keep him from doing anything crazy. his nails dig into your skin, despite how you’d clipped them earlier.

lando makes a motion with his hand, asking for oscar’s. “here. l-let’s see,” lando stutters, taking oscar’s hand. not the one that had been firmly pressed to your thigh, but his left one. they line their palms up, and there’s a very clear winner. lando’s fingers span nearly an entire knuckle past oscar’s, and his palm is wide and boxy, where oscar’s is thin and rectangular. that low curl in your gut twists.

“me next!” you say, sitting up. lando, confused, looks between the two of you before he does the same, lining your palms up. his hand practically dwarfs yours. your head spins, mouth dry. opening your mouth to say something else, you’re startled by that warm, heavy again. this time, it sits on your shoulder.

it starts there, fiddling with the strap of your dress, before it slides up, up, up, fingers tangling into your hair. he plays it off like he’s just being a loving, doting boyfriend, massaging your head a little.

for a moment, you think you’re in the clear, hand falling to your lap as lando, flustered and flushed turns to talk to someone else that has taken a seat at the table. he’s sipping his water, ears pink. pride would claw at you if not for the way oscar’s hand weighs down on the nape of your neck. it’s solid and hot. you squirm in your seat, able to feel his thumb against your heartbeat, pressing in just slightly. it makes you gasp.

“oscar—“ you start, but it’s cut off by a honeyed voice, thick and low, kissing your ear.

“behave.”

you’d crossed a line. pushed too far. you could feel it in the curl of his fingers on your tense muscle.

oscar was a patient man, a benevolent man. someone who didn’t get into jealousy and insecure feelings. he wasn’t possessive nor boastful. but that… seeing the way your eyes locked onto lando’s had been enough. seeing the way your fingers practically trembled against tan skin and ocean-wide palms? well… oscar couldn’t have that. he needed to remind you exactly who you were there with, bring you back from whatever little cloud you were on.

your breath hitches, eyelids fluttering closed, submissive under the weight of that palm.

and oscar? he knows he’ll have you exactly where he wants you when you get back to the apartment.

[p1astr81]

aw naw my goat gay as hell wtf he lookin down there for😭

[p1astr81]

Thinking about Oscar as a service top.

Service top!oscar who is in full belief that he only exists to please you.

He’d come home late from the factory, exhausted and in desperate need of sleep. But you’d wake to the sound of the door closing, reaching out to him. When he crawled under the covers with you, and you whispered about how you needed him, his exhaustion didn’t matter anymore.

Everything was slow. How he shed his briefs, how he guided himself into you, the roll of his hips.

he’d drive himself into overstimulation while trying not to cum before you. He’d bury his head into your neck, sucking and biting your skin in an effort to stifle his loud whines and whimpers.

He’d start rambling, breathless whines into your ear.

you feel so good, so tight around me, fuck, it’s like you’re made for me—or I’m made for you I- he chuckled airily. ngh, ple-ha please cum. I nee- need you to- he whined, loud and unrestrained. His eyes glassy, a single tear slipping. I need it so bad. Need to feel you squeeze around me and moan my name. Please baby- fuck, please! I can’t hold on I ca- I can’t do it. and when you suggested that he cum before you, he shook his head furiously. Wanna feel you, please, please, agh- he choked when he felt your pussy pulse around him, when he heard your name fall from his lips in a sweet broken moan, when he felt you come apart for him. When he followed soon after, still whining your name as he came down from his high and pulled out of you.

After, he’d hold you tightly in his arms, running his hands through your hair because he knows that helps you sleep.

[p1astr81]

Absolutely in love with the concept of sub!landoscar, would you ever write more??

yes absolutely bc I’m a fein for those two being subs😍

If you have any suggestions for a plot, leave them in my inbox!! Idk when I’ll get around to them bc I still have over 30 submissions but it’ll be eventually lol😭

[p1astr81]

Helloooo!! Can I request a smut fic with Oscar? The reader is a model and they had a campaign with Calvin Klein or something revealing and he gets jealous bcs some celebrity (doesn’t matter who) simps over it on tv :)

cw: smut 18+, major dom and sub dynamics, rough sex, slow sex, mirror sex, piv, unprotected sex, lingerie, doggy, orgasm denial if you squint, teasing, pet names (baby), crying, begging, aftercare

Oscar didn’t have a problem with you being in Victoria Secret’s fashion show. Not even when you mentioned that they might put you in full lingerie and nothing else.

He didn’t have a problem until he opened social media afterwards to see videos of you flooding his feed. And not just of you. No, your celebrity crush was the main focus. Gave you a full up and down, and everyone caught it. Everyone was posting it.

You were in the kitchen when he caught you, slicing your apples into thin pieces. You hadn’t heard him, so you hadn’t expected it when his two hands landed on your ass, gave it a rough squeeze.

Gasping, you whipped your head over your shoulder. “I’m holding a knife you idiot! What if I stabbed you?!”

Oscar licked his lips, eyes focused on your own plush ones. “Maybe then I’d have something to think about other than you.” He replied, voice low and rough.

Feeling his hard cock pressing into your ass, you put down the knife and turned around. “It’s midday.” You pointed out, as if that was meant to make him not want to take you on the kitchen counter.

“And I just want to remind you where you belong. You know, with me.”

You raised a teasing brow, arms floating up to circle around his neck. “Now that’s a look I haven’t seen in a while.” You smiled, your tongue sensually licking your lips.

His hands tightened on your hips. “What look?”

“Jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Unconvinced, you hummed. “Really? Because-“

He wouldn’t hear it, shutting you up with a feverish kiss. Messy, too many noises to be wholesome.

Despite the teasing, you couldn’t resist him. You leaned into the kiss as soon as his lips collided with yours. Not as needy, though.

“Put on some lingerie,” not an ask, more of an order. his words rushed and his voice low.

“Wha-“

“Just go do it.” He left no room for arguments.

You gave a short laugh. “Right away, your majesty.” You laughed.

A few moments later, you came out in a lacy dark blue set. It was tiny, and not leaving much to the imagination as he could see your nipples right through the bra. His favorite set.

When he laid eyes on it, he groaned. An animalistic, desperate sound. He palmed himself through his shorts without even thinking.

You giggled, the sound low and teasing. “Well don’t make me get dolled up if you’re not going to do something.”

It was all the invitation he needed. He picked you up, threw you over his shoulder like it was the easiest task in the world. Not a sign of struggle.

That did a number on you, arousal wetting your panties.

He threw you on the bed. He shed his clothes while you stared at him, propped up with your elbows. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” His comment sparked a blush across your cheeks as he crawled over you.

He ignored your lips, deciding to ravish your neck and the swell of your tits instead. Hot breath fanned over your skin with every open mouth kiss, every time he sucked into your skin. He licked your nipples through the lace, the roughness of it making you gasp and arch into him.

“Oscar,” you sighed, needy hands gripping into his shoulders, his sides, digging into his back.

“Say it again.”

“Oscar.” You repeated, needier this time.

His head spun, high off the raw sound of you desperate for him. Off the sight of how quickly he could get you this desperate. He cursed. “tell me what you need.”

“You- need your fingers or mouth or dick!” You arched into again him as his teeth grazed your nipple. “Fuck, please!”

He groaned, just as needy for it as you but refusing to show it as much. He contemplated opening you up with his fingers first. But you asked for more, didn’t you? So who was he to deny you?

“Gonna fuck you with this on,”

Three quick nods from you and he was pushing your panties to the side. He paused at the sight of you soaked, glistening, body begging for him. He could say that didn’t do wonders for his ego, but that would be the biggest lie he’d ever told.

You jolted when his tip brushed your folds. “Already sensitive?” He teased, sinking his dick into you so you couldn’t even respond with anything more than moans. “Yeah?” He mocked.

He didn’t give you a second to get used to the stretch before he was pounding into you. Each thrust driven to prove a point—that you were his, that only he could have you like this.

Quickly, you were reduced to nothing but moans and whines. Defined by how your nails clawed into his back—which fueled Oscar’s ego. The only coherent thing you could conjure was, “so good,”

Oscar grinned and sucked your tits through the thin lace of your bra. You whined and arched up into him. “Yeah, who’s making you feel this good, baby?”

“Y-ah, hmm” you couldn’t even speak if you tried. It was a ravishing sight.

And Oscar was cruel about it. He pulled out of you fully. Earned a long, drawn out whine of “no!”

“I asked you a question.”

You blinked up at him, half dazed. You wet your lips, inadvertently enticing him. “You! You, always, Oscar! Please, I need you so bad!” You rambled, legs circling around his waist to try and draw him closer.

He gripped your thighs, looking too satisfied with the answer. He slammed back into you, tearing a scream out of your lungs.

He didn’t let up, pounded into you so hard your tits bounced with every thrust. Your eyes rolled back, mouth open in silent moans. A sight he’d put in the louvre.

“So pretty when you’re like this.” He mumbled.

Then caught sight of the mirror in his peripheral vision.

Only when your moans got pitchier and you started squeezing around him did he pull out. You whined again, being denied of your orgasm. “Oscar, please,” you begged, breathless.

He dragged your body up and positioned you on your hands and knees in front of the mirror. He positioned himself behind you, lined himself up, tip nudging your clit and teasing your hole.

You squirmed. “Stop teasing,” you begged, voice fragile, eyes watering.

“Who do you belong to, baby?” He asked, too calm and too kind for how cruel he was being.

You choked, crying from so much stimulation and no release. “Oscar, you,” you whispered, trying to push yourself back onto him.

He frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Fucking liar. He heard you. He just wanted you to scream it.

“You! Oscar Jack Piastri!” You cried, your eyes catching his through the mirror, begging for him to do something. “Please, I need to cum so bad.”

And he slipped in. Not rough like the other two times. Small centimeters, nudging into you bit by bit. He watched you shutter in desperation, and fail to get a grip on the hard wood floors.

When he was fully seated inside of you, he didn’t move. You squeezed him tightly, whining and crying about how bad you need to cum!

“Look at yourself. Look at how desperate you are for me.”

You didn’t fight him on it. You nodded. “For you, only for you. Always for you.”

You were a lost cause as soon as he started to roll his hips. Pulled out half way before slowly sliding back in. You were gasping with every move, begging incoherently.

When he caught you with your eyes closed and head bowed, he stopped. You immediately protested.

His hand was around your jaw, forcing you to look up. “Keep watching yourself, or you’re not cumming.”

You whined in protest.

His pace wasn’t as slow when he started again, nor was it as rough as before. A torturous medium.

His hand trailed from your jaw to your tits, giving one an experimental squeeze. You whimpered, clamped down around him.

“Oh, do you like that?”

“Yes,” a breathless reply.

And he did it again, and again, alternating between your tits, squeezing your nipples too. Until you were squeezing him so tightly. “Oscar! Fuck, fuck I’m gonna cum!” A quick warning.

He responded by driving into you harder, reaching deeper.

“Fuck! Please!” You cried, eyes darting between yourself and him. Toned abs in sweat, looking hotter than every person named ‘sexiest man alive’ combined.

When you came, it was with his name on your tongue, repeated like some sacred prayer. He pumped you full on his cum seconds later, telling you that, “you’re all mine,” as he did.

Minutes later, sitting in opposite ends of the bath together, you asked him, “was that about the show?”

He played dumb, raising a brow. “What show?”

You smiled softly, playing with his fingers. “The VS one.”

A moments silence. Then, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugged.

You weren’t so convinced, but laced your fingers together anyway. “Right. So it has nothing to do with that video of-“

“Say his name and I’ll edge you for a week.”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. He chuckled.

The room was bathed in a calm silence again. Only the quiet waves of the water echoed in the room as he cleaned your body. “I’m over that crush, by the way.” You spoke softly as to not disrupt the peace. “Haven’t thought about him in years.” Oscar didn’t say anything. He gave a single nod in acknowledgement. “How could I when I have the world’s hottest and sexiest man in front of me.” You added after a moment.

“Is that all I am to you? My looks?” He knew otherwise, obviously, but he loved teasing you.

“No.” You hummed. “You’re also incredible in bed.”

He laughed at that. Loud, disregarding of the quiet whispers you were exchanging.

You leaned over, going in for a kiss but you slipped. He caught you. You both laughed over it, quiet chuckles.

“I love you.” You confessed quietly, hands braced on his bare chest.

He tilted your head back with a finger under your chin and kissed you. “I love you, too.”

[p1astr81]

is there any chance you would do a threesome with sublando and suboscar with dom reader ?? If not, that’s totally fine !! I love your writing so much !

the concept of sublandoscar🤤

cw: smut 18+, sub!Lando, sub!Oscar, soft!dom & rough!dom reader, use of ‘good boy’, use of pet names (baby and what not), use of y/n, dryhumping, cumming in pants, begging, unintentionally disobedient!lando, use of the cuck chair, face riding, oral (m! & f! receiving), unprotected piv (don’t do that), cowgirl, hair pulling, praising, oscar loves tits in this,

They hadn’t heard you as you walked in, too absorbed in one another.

Both of them were shirtless. Lando straddled Oscar’s hips, devouring the younger’s face like he would die if he didn’t. It was clear Oscar was in control of the situation, despite being below his teammate. His hands gripped Lando’s hips, keeping his in place. Lando’s hands were all over Oscar, shamelessly running his hands over Oscar’s toned body.

“I was gone for not even five minutes and you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves.” The sympathy in your voice was fake, as was the pout on your face.

Oscar gasped, startling Lando who bit into his lip as a result. Despite being caught, Lando remained sat on Oscar’s lap.

You sauntered over. Slow, irresistibly sexy. With a hand under Oscar’s chin, you gently lifted his head. He looked up at you with those big eyes, his brows strewn together. Practically begging you to take care of the problem in his pants without saying a single word.

Red dotted Oscar’s swollen lips. You clicked your tongue. “Aw, Lando look what you did to our boy.”

Lando blinked. His pretty, long lashes fluttered. His expression mirrored Oscar’s. Wide eyes, inclined brows. Though he looked even more needy.

“Well, are you going to say sorry?”

He opened his mouth, but kept silent.

“You know only good boys get rewarded, don’t you?”

He swallowed and nodded. Then he looked to Oscar. “I’m sorry.” He muttered.

A look of disapproval was shot his way. “Now do you think that sounded very sincere?” You asked Oscar.

Yes was his real answer, but he went with what he thought you wanted to hear. “N-no.” He stuttered.

“Try again, Lando.”

He swallowed and shifted, making the both of them whimper at the jolt of stimulation. “I’m sorry for making you bleed, Osc.” He repeated, more sure of himself.

You let go of Oscar’s face and ran your fingers through Lando’s hair. “Good.” Then you glanced at Oscar. “Now kiss it better.”

He looked at you a beat longer before revising on Oscar’s lips again.

Hand yanking on his hair, you stopped him quickly. He whined at the burn of his scalp. “Be nice.” You instructed, another soft tug before letting go.

A small pout was present on his lips as he nodded. His lips met the younger’s again, softer this time, like he was experimenting. You watched, rounding the bed as Lando kitten licked over the wound and sucked gently. The whimper Oscar let out was so pretty.

You sat next to them on the bed, not enough to touch, but enough so that they’d feel your presence. “Roll your hips into his, baby. Feel each other through your pants.”

He wouldn’t dare disobey you, especially when you requested something so deliciously enticing. They both groaned at the first roll, their heads throw back like mirror images of each other.

And when Lando stuttered to do it again?

“Keep going.” You told him.

He listened, continued to rut his hips into Oscar. They were reduced to whiny, breathy messes. You scooted closer. “Look at me, Os,” your hand rested on his thick neck, a single finger turning his head toward you. He looked at you, begging to be ruined.

You kissed him, messy, hot, and heavy. He tried to kiss you. Really, he did. Wanted to be good so you’d give him a reward. But Lando was rubbing against him so sweetly, and he couldn’t stop the moans and whines that were drawn from his lips with every rut.

He whined, long and loud. “Please. I wanna cum.” The pleasure was becoming too much. And which your hand squeezing around his neck, he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. You ignored him, continued to kiss his face. “Please, baby, please I’ll be so good for you. Let you do whatever you want with me just please. I need it. Please please please-“

“So pretty when you’re needy.” You murmured against his skin while he continued to beg. “Go ahead, show me how good you feel.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He let his release coat his boxers and his pants, shuttering under Lando, whimpering into your mouth.

Unfortunately for him, Lando had come too. You gave him a look of disapproval. He shrunk in on himself, knowing he did something wrong. “Did I say you could come?” You glared.

Now Oscar was kissing you, coming out of the afterglow. Soft, delicate kisses to your cheeks. You let him.

Lando fell from his teammates lap. “N-n- I thought- I-“ he stuttered.

“Go on, spit it out, Lando.” You raised a brow, your harsh tone contrasted by the soft rake of your hand through Oscar’s hair.

“I thought you said we could both come.” He admitted, voice small as he could make it, ashamed.

You huffed, pulling Oscar away by your grip in his hair before removing your hand. He frowned at the loss, but didn’t say anything.

You pulled on Lando’s hair again, forcing his head back to look up at you. “Go sit in the chair.”

“No, please. I’m sorry.” Fucking hell, Lando hated the chair. Would burn it if he could. No moving, no touching yourself, just watching. A synonym for fucking torture. He found himself there more often than not. He’d just get so consumed by the pleasure, he forgot about the listening part.

“Lando,” a warning. One that meant no more arguing.

He swallowed hard, but listened. The chair was cold, unwelcoming. He hated everything about it.

Forced to sit and watch as you turned back to Oscar, manicured nails running down his chest. “Lay down for me.” You told him, your voice light and noticeably nicer than you were just a moment ago.

His eyes flickered to Lando. A spike of fear shot through his body at the thought of being in his position. He complied quickly while you hovered over him. Your nail traced shapes on his chest as he did.

You leaned over him, kissed his lips with a hum. “Will you let me ride your face?”

As soon as your words hit his ears, his eyes went wide. He nodded eagerly, looking wrecked already.

Your hand was back on his jaw, stroking it gently. “Words.” One word, but he knew what you wanted.

“Yes. Please.”

He watched intently as your clothes fell from your body. Everything expect your bra. He was practically drooling as you hovered over his face, slick with need. His hands hovered over your thighs. “Can I touch you?” He asked, his voice quiet in desperation.

“Yes,” you breathed, and his hands were gripping your thighs in an instant.

But still, you didn’t move. Didn’t get close enough for him to taste. He whined and shifted. “Please. I wanna taste you so bad.” All you could see were his pretty brown eyes, pleading for something. Felt his hands readjust on your thighs, a more secure grip.

When you finally lowered onto his face, he didn’t waste a second. Lapping up your juices like it was his only source of water. Sticking his tongue deep in your hole to drag more out of you. He groaned into you, addicted to the taste.

You braced one hand on the wall in front of you, the other went to his hair. Not tugging, but grounding. “Oh, fu-fuck.” Your head tilted back in pleasure, hips rocked against his face. His nose bumped your clit with every shift of your hips, shooting pleasure up your spine and moans from your mouth. “So- haa so good for me, Os.”

You mewled as you got closer and you looked over your shoulder. “Lando,” you gasped. “Come here.”

He stood right away, more than happy to be free from that chair. He stood by you, waiting for instruction.

But Oscar was feeling a little selfish. He wanted all of your attention. “Take- oh!” He sucked your clit into his mouth. “Fuck, me, you’re so good at this.” If only he knew what you called Lando for. “Take my bra off.” You commanded, out of breath.

His fingers fumbled with the clasp, shaking out of intense need. When your tit were freed from their confines, oscars eyes went wide. The sight spurred him on and he doubled his efforts as he groaned into you.

“Ah- shit,” you sighed, hand tightening in his hair. “O-oh, ke-ngh-keep going!”

Lando stood by, watching you writhe on the edge of peak pleasure, watched as you rolled your hips quicker. Small breathy “ah”’s fell from your lips every time his nose bumped your clit. Such a scene. He was so hard in his boxers, painstakingly so. But he wouldn’t touch, not without your go ahead.

When you came, Oscar made a noise somewhere between a groan and a desperate whine. He greedily sucked up all your juices, licking and lapping at everything leaking out of you while the roll of your hips slowed down.

“Fu- okay, hm,” you mumbled as the pleasure crossed into overstimulations. Your hands settled on his, and he pulled them away instantly.

Climbing off of him, Oscar’s mouth was finally exposed to the world. The leftover slick on his face glinted in the dim lighting.

You reached over, collecting it on your fingers. A wave of your other hand brought lando to you. He crawled across the bed, so painfully hard he’d take whatever you’d give him.

You shoved your fingers in his mouth roughly. He didn’t complained, moaned around your finger even, tongue swirling around, trying to savor the taste. You shoved your fingers further, making him gag on them. Tears sprung to his eyes.

Pulling your fingers away, you whipped them on his thigh. You grabbed his face and forced him to look up. You smiled at the nerdy look of him. “I knew you could be good. Just needed a little motivation.”

He licked his lips and you pulled back, looking between them. “Undies off, both of you.” You told the both of them. They couldn’t look more desperate if they tried, each of them fumbling to strip from their boxers.

They were both so fucked. Dicks soaked in precum, standing so tall and red. Rock solid.

The orders came one after another.

“Sit up.” You told Oscar.

“Go sit next to him.” You told Lando.

You sat between them, facing them, legs tucked under you. “Look at you two.” You frowned, feigning sympathy. “So desperate.” You clicked your tongue. “What if I just-“ you reached out, thumb brushing Lando’s tip. He hissed, bucking his hips toward your hand. You raised a brow. Dangerous and daring. He squeaked out a, sorry!

“Do you boys need to cum?”

The soft tone of voice was throwing them off. They exchanged glances.

“You can tell me.”

Oscar spoke first. “Y-yes.” Not very confident.

You tilted your head, reached out and wrapped your hand around the base of his dick. The faintest of touches “That didn’t sound too sure.” His hips twitched, but didn’t buck. A conscious effort to keep still. “Yes! Please, I need to cum.” He whined, trying his best not to squirm. His hands balled up the sheets in his fists.

You turned to Lando, who hadn’t said anything yet. “What about you?”

“Yes,” he gasped, “please.”

“Please what?” You hummed.

A needy sigh passed his lips. “Please make me cum. I need it so bad, baby, please!”

Much to his disappointment, you removed your hand from Oscar. Instead, you brought it to Lando’s face. “I love it when you’re needy.” You whispered, shifting to straddle his hips. You hovered over him, his tip ghosting your folds.

The room flooded with whines as you sunk down on him slowly. All his whines. Joined by small sighs and moans from you. “Feel so full,” You took him fully, resting with your hands on his shoulders for a moment.

And then a hand in his hair, a small tug. “Oscars been so good tonight. He deserves something too, don’t you think?”

His eyes darted to the younger boy. “Y-yeah.” Fucking hell he could barely focus when you were so tight around him.

You were both looking at Oscar. Lando carrying a look of need and you having one of consideration. “Suck him off.” You decided finally.

Lando’s head snapped back to you. “Wha-“ he blinked.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never done it before. Judging by the way you sucked my fingers clean, you have some experience.”

And you were right. After harsh races for the both of them. Even going so far as to pull out the six-nine.

“Okay.”

Oscar readjusted, sat on the pillows so it was easier for Lando. “Use your hand for what you can’t take.” You told lando.

And then you were guiding the bob of his head, matching the pace at which you were bouncing on his dick. The whines and whimpers blended together, a beautiful harmony to your ears. They both fisted the sheets, trying not to come before you. “You guys sound so pretty.” You praised, speeding up your movements as they spurred you on.

“Can- can I touch your tits, please?” Oscar asked, swallowing hard as lando groaned around his dick again.

You nodded and his hands were on you in an instant, squeezing and kneeling the flesh, tweaking your nipples. It made your hips stutter. You moaned Oscar’s name, shoving lando all the way down his cock. Lando choked. Oscar gasped and whimpered.

Tears brimmed Lando’s eyes once more. Not just from being forced to take all of his teammate, but from the effort of holding back from cumming. He was right there. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t unless he wanted another punishment. And your punishments were never fun.

Oscar was close too, twitching in the older’s mouth. And so were you, tight around him.

“Mmm- y/n- I’m so- ngh- so close,” Oscar spoke up, lando humming in agreement.

You just shook your head, too lost in your own pleasure to really form a response. You were so close, evident by how quick you rode lando. “Fuck, fuck, I’m- sh-shit!”

You came violently, loud moans, shuttering and hand tightening in Lando’s curls. You triggered a chain reaction, Lando cumming in you, groaning as Oscar shot his load down his throat.

After a moment, you all unraveled from each other, lying in a row. “Showers, boys.” You reminded when you caught sight of Oscar drifting off.

He sighed and rolled off the bed. Lando followed, biting his lip mischievously. He landed a harsh slap to Oscar’s ass, the sound echoing.

Oscar whipped around and shoved his shoulder.

Lando slapped his ass again.

“Cut that out, and go get clean.” You sent them off with a small laugh and a wave of your hand. And you went to change the soaking sheets into new ones

[p1astr81]

Can you do reader helping relieve Oscar's frustration smut? After today's race it feels needed lol

I'm soooo happy for Lando but it just sucks so much because Oscar would have 10000% of had the win without the penalty

So I was imagining like Oscar being rough, hard, needing relief 🤤

I’ve got like 30 other recs still in my inbox which I will still do but I already wanted to write this so I skipped😊

Im still in disbelief that he did this. huge oversight on his part imo but I don’t doubt that he’ll learn from this and bounce back in spa bc that’s just the kind of driver he is.

cw: smut 18+, piv, angry sex, rough sex, doggy, missionary, nipple play??, exhibitionism???, implied unprotected sex, aftercare, idk lmk if there’s anything else I need to add

The frustration was building since he got the radio message. Mark only added to it after the post-race debrief, telling him it was a stupid mistake and can’t happen again, all while pointing a condescending finger in Oscar’s face.

You were already in bed when he got to the hotel—you always left before debriefs. When you heard him walk in, you looked up from your phone. A sad, sympathetic sort of smile on your face that made Oscar all the angrier. “Hey, honey.” You greeted, so sweet he wanted to vomit. “I’m sorry abou-“

So he kissed the smile off you, cut you off mid sentence. It took you by surprise, the suddenness and especially the roughness of the kiss. “I need you.” He rasped into your mouth, already moving to take off your shirt. “Fuck, fuck this shit-“ he groaned as he tossed his your shirt across the room. No bra. Only a thin pair of panties. “god, you’re perfect.” He sighed, shoving his tongue into your mouth.

He was maneuvering you like you weighed nothing. Pulling you to lay flat on your back, stripping you of your panties with ease, and then flipping you onto your back, propping your ass in the air.

His clothes joined yours on the floor. With his cock in hand, he leaned over you, teased your entrance with the tip. “Color?” He asked, breath hot on your ear.

“Green.” You sighed, hips grinding back into him, eliciting a small whine from your lips.

He brushed your hair aside and kissed down your spine, muttering, “so good, always good for me,” while his tip nudged into your now sopping hole. You sighed his name and he nipped at your back. “Sucking me in already, fuck.” He groaned loudly.

He slammed his hips into yours, sinking into you all at once. “Fuck!” You moaned, no regard for the neighbors.

Oscar gave you no time to adjust. No gentle roll of his hips—no, straight to brutal thrusts. And it was driving him crazy. The squeeze of you was driving him insane, felling like a vice around his throbbing dick. “You’re heaven, baby.” He mumbled, but it got lost in the symphony of lewd sounds. Groans spilled from his lips as often as your mixed juices squelched. As often as you let out pathetic moans that might as well be whimpers. The headboard bumped into the wall with every thrust.

He was seeking a release. So much tension and frustration from the day’s events. You were merely an outlet to him behind his cloud of pleasure.

He pulled out completely, and the both of you whined in protest. He flipped you onto your back, drew your legs up to your chest and slammed into you again. The new angle blessed you. He reached so deep inside you, he felt like he was in your stomach.

The brutal pace was resumed. You mumbled something incoherent, eyes rolled back and half lidded. “Yeah?” He asked, mocking your moans. He caught your nipple in your mouth and sucked hard, tongue swirling around, and teeth grazing.

You arched off the bed, a loud moan erupting around the room.

And then, a bang on the wall.

Not caused by the either of you. But rather, the neighbor. Lando.

Oscar ignored it.

You hadn’t heard it.

And Oscar was feeling particularly evil. “Let me hear how good you feel. Let it all out.” He rasped, hands gripping onto your thighs.

Your moans got louder as you got closer to your peak, and you got more vocal, crying out, “Ah! Oscar! ‘S so good!” And, “yes! Fuck, there! Yes! Yes! Please, Osc-ah, I’m so close!”

Sounded so pretty in his ears. Like a piece from Mozart or Beethoven.

Another bang to the wall. Another time it went ignored.

“Fucking hold it.” He gritted, driving into you faster and harder—if that was even possible.

You didn’t seem to like that answer, quivering under him like a leaf in a bad wind storm. Whimpering like you were in pain. “I ca-can’t-“ you gasped and shook your head, nails biting into his shoulders.

“You will.”

Because this wasn’t about you tonight. It was about him. Making him feel better after a shit day like the perfect girlfriend you were.

So you nodded with tears brimming your eyes, trying to hold on for him.

He could feel you squeezing him so tight with the effort to not come before him.

“Osca-ah-Oscar” a loud, broken moan of his name.

And it broke him. He came with a grunt, spilling into your—now fluttering—cunt. Your sweet juices mixing around his dick.

You were hardly conscious when he pulled out—swinging like a pendulum between asleep and awake—but you still managed a small gasp. And another when he cleaned you up with his fingers and a small wet cloth.

After he cleaned the both of you off, he got into bed with you, drawing you to his chest. His arms circled around your body protectively.

“Do you think Lando heard?” You asked after a long moment’s pause.

He tried not to grin and failed miserably. “Yes. But I don’t think that’s half as miserable as my day.”

You chuckled softly, lazily tracing shapes on his chest. Another pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He thought it over. “I suppose I should. I never sleep good when I’m angry.”

“Well, if you get angry over it again, I can just help you out again.” You smiled up at him, your blinks long.

He chuckled lowly, squeezing your hip. “Now that’s an offer I’ll never refuse.”

You both laughed at that.

[p1astr81]

Possessive Lando would also really hit the spot <3 you know for example, his hand on readers' throat when he wins, in front of everybody.. jesus

Lando wasn’t outwardly possessive. He didn’t drag you away from other guys or tell them to back off. He was more… casual with it.

He always had a hand on you, or two. His hand in yours while you walked side by side. Or in your lower back when he guided you through crowded spaces. And even around your waist when standing behind you. Just casual touches to let people know that you were his.

And then one day, right before the race, some hot shot actor decided he wanted to get to know you. Openly flirting with you. Lando could see it from a mile away, could see how you were hardly entertaining it, only enough to remain polite. Still, it irked him. Made his heart beat faster and his brain shut off all logical thinking.

Fiery steps carried him. Hot and quick. His arm was around your shoulders as soon as he reached you, pulling you into his chest. “Hey, babe,” the jealousy seeped through his fake smile.

You rolled your eyes in affection. “Hi, Lan.”

Lando eyed the guys shirt with disgust. The number forty-four. Red shirt. “Ferrari? You didn’t want to cheer for a winning team?”

The guy shook his head. “Would rather vote for someone who has at least one championship.”

Lando laughed in response, a sarcastic one. “Right. You have fun watching the race.”

“Thanks, I will. Hope you don’t crash. Again.”

“Ha, yeah…”

And with that, lando was dragging you away.

Another win to his records. Another trophy in the case. Glorious. Every bit of it. But he had a strange look on his face. Cocky grin, devilish look in his eyes, confident as he walked up to you.

“My god! Lan, that was-“

He cut you off as soon as he reached you. Not with more words but with his hand around your neck and his lips on yours. You hummed in shock. A peck you might’ve been able to predict but this…

His hand squeezed the sides of your throat lightly. Not enough to cut off your airways, but enough for you to feel the pressure.

And he was kissing you hard. Like he was trying to suck the air from your lungs or trying to memorize the shape of your lips with his.

When he pulled away and saw your stricken expression—eyes wide and mouth agape—he somehow got even more cocky. Then he moved on to celebrating with the team. Like nothing happened.

Later, while getting ready for bed, you asked him, “what was that kiss? After the podium?”

He grinned at the memory, cocky all over again. He shrugged. “Had to let everyone know you’re mine.”

Your jaw dropped first. Then you lobbied a pillow at him. “Oh my god! It was a show?!”

“No!” He protested quickly. “It was a very dramatic declaration of my love.”

Shaking your head, you scoffed a laugh. “Right. Yeah. Sure. It had nothing to do with that guy flirting with me.” You slipped under the sheets.

He joined you. “Oh, it definitely did.” He moved closer to you, wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. His lips hovered above yours. “He had to know he had no chance.”

“He never had a chance.” You giggled, and leaned up to kiss him.

[p1astr81]

Oscar being lowkey obsessed with his best friend’s sister but he hides it soooo badly. I need him to be awkward and sweet and chaotic 😩💞

I’m crying, I love how I wrote this. Oscar is so incredibly down bad. he’s giving teenage girl in 2012 with a crush on harry styles iykwim

Oscar and Mason had been best friends since he moved to England at fourteen.

He met you almost few months after his move. You were a year older. A grade above them. Perhaps it was your maturity that caught his eye. Or the way your lip gloss glittered when it caught the light. Or maybe it was how sweet you were, always smiling or filling the room with your bubbly laughter.

Whatever it was, you caught Oscar’s attention as soon as he laid eyes on you. And never once did it waver.

Whenever you were around, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

He watched from a distance for that first year. Terrified of saying the wrong thing.

Then came that one winter afternoon, when Mason was in the shower after Oscar had spent the night. He found you sat alone in the living room. A holiday movie on the television. A mug of hot chocolate cradled in your hands.

“Can I join you?” He hesitated, fingers fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

You looked up, a kind smile and widened eyes. “Yeah, of course!” You moved over, making room for him. A throw blanket was tossed his way. “Do you want a mug, too?”

Fingers smoothing over the soft material of the blanket, Oscar stumbled over his words. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I mean if it’s not too much to ask, that is.”

“No, never!” You laughed, your hand lingering a beat too long on his shoulder after you’d landed a playful slap there.

He swallowed hard, his face going up in flames.

Your suspicions about his crush started then.

Then there was Silverstone.

Oscar was already there for his formula four race, but couldn’t turn down the offer when your parents request he join you guys in the grand stands. At this point, your parents had more or less taken him in as one of their own, given his own parents were half the world away.

Everything was going great until someone bumped into you. Coffee spilled down the front of your light colored shirt. You gasped. “Oh no, no no no!”

Your parents and Mason hadn’t noticed, they continued to walk on. But Oscar did. And he came to your rescue with napkins in hand.

“Thank you,” you sighed and pressed the napkins to your shirt. It was no use. “Damn it. Now I’ll have to walk around sticky and gross all day.” You huffed, tossing the napkins away.

Oscar had already pulled his hoodie off his body. “Here,” he offered, the hoodie balled up in his outstretched hand.

Laughing, you pushed it back to his chest, your hand over his. He flushed. “I can’t take your hoodie. What if you need it?”

“It’s fine.” He insisted, arm outstretched once more.

“No, i can just buy one of the overpriced shirts from one of the shops.” And again, you pushed his hoodie back.

“That’s a waste of money.” The hoodie was within your reach again. “I don’t mind, seriously.”

Conflict in your eyes. Then, a sigh. “Okay, fine.” Your fingers brushed as the hoodie passed between you two.

He expected you to want to go to the bathroom to get changed, but nope. You slipped the hoodie over your head, and seconds later, your shirt was balled in your hand. He looked at you, shocked at the skill, and cheeks pink at the sight of you in his clothes.

“Okay, now to find the family.” You smiled like you hadn’t noticed his eyes on you.

When you did eventually find your family, Mason was the first to raise a brow. “Oh so you guys disappear and now suddenly you’re in his hoodie?” He face wounds up, repulsed at the idea of anything happening between you and his best friend. “Gross. Oscar’s my friend not-“

You waved a hand through the air, chuckling. “Relax. I spilt my coffee on my shirt and he offered the hoodie. Nothing more.”

Maybe it was nothing more to you. But Christ, Oscar was having crazy daydreams about your wedding. He couldn’t even look at you without wanting to kiss you.

Jesus Christ, Oscar. Get it together. He scolded himself.

And of course, you noticed how deep he was in though. You nudged his arm with your elbow. “Whatcha thinkin about?” You grinned, an eyebrow raised.

His face got even more red, something you noted instantly. He started stuttering, his flat palms pressed into his thighs. “N-nothing. Just, uh, excited for the race.” He attempted a smile. It was weak. “Yeah.” His eyes couldn’t focus on your face for more than half a second.

That’s what solidified it for you. Your brother’s best friend definitely had a crush on you. And the poor boy was doing a terrible job at hiding it.

The sun was hot, the ice cream was cold.

The pale yellow cake batter ice cream melted down the cone faster than you could eat it. Eating it felt more like a sport than anything else.

Oscar just watched on in quiet amusement, eating his own ice cream out of a bowl. “You can still ask them for a bowl, you know?”

“That ruins the fun. And besides, this makes me eat it faster so we can get back to working on our project.”

The ice cream was his idea. He didn’t want to work on the boring project for your mass media and journalism class—his only elective, which he took solely because he overheard you say you were taking it—and he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist ice cream. Especially when he offered to pay.

When you were finally finished and your hands were whipped clean, Oscar’s eyes caught a drop of ice cream on the tip of your nose.

“Oh, uh- you’ve- you’ve got some…” he made a vague gesture to his nose.

You laughed. “What?”

“Uh, here I’ll just, uhm-“

You watched as he reached forward, his thumb inched closer to your race. His fingers ghosted your lips as his thumb swiped over the tip of your nose. You smiled softly as he showed you the bit of ice cream on his finger. “Thanks.”

The familiar feeling of his face burning had made an aggressive comeback as he sputtered out a, “no problem.”

You and Oscar were outside playing in the snow. Mason opted to say in side. Like he always did.

Two snow forts were built high, dense, pact, and sturdy enough.

You peeked over the top of yours. Wrong move. Oscar was waiting and pelted one your way. You screeched and ducked again. The snowball soared over your head.

Another peek. He was hidden this time. You made your move, standing, carefully stepping through the snow. You were so close to dunking an armful of snow on him.

But then one crunch of snow alerted him and he popped up.

“No!” You protested, still trying to throw the show and get away at the same time.

He tried to get you back, you tried to get away, one thing after another. It led in the both of you tumbling to the ground.

You on top of him, hands braced on his chest.

Both your cheeks were pink. Whether it was caused by the cold or how close you were, it was hard to tell.

You laughed, a breathy sound. “Oops,” you breathed.

Oscar couldn’t believe his eyes. His brain stuttered, his words, too. “Yeah.”

You rolled off of him and laid next to him, gloved hands touching. A laugh, and then you started making a snow angel. He joined you.

When you were sure the angels were shaped, you both stood. “Hey look, they’re holding hands.” You pointed with a giggle.

He gave a weak laugh.

Looking to him, you raised a brow. “Hot cocoa?”

He shrugged. “I could always go for a hot cocoa.”

You smiled, so warm he thought it would melt the snow below your feet. Then you reached you, threaded your fingers through his hair and ruffled his brown curls. “So much snow.”

After you graduated, he didn’t see you for four whole years.

That didn’t stop his borderline obsession with you. He kept up with your travels through instagram. When you’d text him to congratulate him on a win, he’d take it as an opportunity to start a conversation.

At twenty one, and at his first home Grand Prix, he saw you again. When he first caught sight of you in the paddock, he swore he was seeing things. But then you spotted him, too, and the smile on your face wouldn’t have been given to just anyone.

“Hi, Oscar!” You greeted once you reached him, arms spread wide for a hug.

He hugged you back, his face colored red again. “Wh-“ he stuttered, laughed as he pulled away. “What are you doing here? I- I mean- uh- hi! But… what?” He laughed again, confused and a little anxious.

“I wanted to be here for your first home race! I know how long you’ve been dreaming of this, and I wanted at least someone from my family to be here for it.” You chuckled with a dazzling, bright smile.

If looks could kill, Oscar would be dead.

Not in the usual sense, but because of how much you’ve natured in the last four years. Yes, he’d seen your Instagram, but the pictures don’t even begin to do justice. Your face had lost off of its baby fat, more defined but still looked so soft. Like if he held your face in his hands, he bet would feel like holding freshly baked bread. Strange analogy, but accurate. And physically in other… places, you’ve also grown. But despite all of that, you were still you. That same bright smile that made him melt. The same considerate person that always thought about everyone else before herself.

If Oscar wasn’t into you before, he sure as hell was now.

“That’s… yeah, thank you.” He said quietly, still half wondering if he was imagining you. “Uh, do you, uhm- where are you watching the race from?”

You held back a laugh at his stuttering. Nice to see that he hasn’t changed. “From the grand stand! On the start-finish straight.” You nodded.

“What? No! I mean, I’m sure I could get you into the garage.”

“Oh, no it’s alright. I wouldn’t want to-“

“Please. I want you there.”

His bold honesty wasn’t something you expected out of him. For that, you couldn’t possibly disagree. “Okay. Yeah, fine.” You sighed.

Oscar was starting p16 after a terrible qualifying.

By some miracle—or rather a very eventful last couple of laps—he came out with p8. His very first points in f1.

“We have to get drinks. We need to celebrate this!” You insisted as the both of you walked through the hotel lobby.

He sighed. “You know that’s not my scene.”

“Then we can just get a couple drinks in the hotel bar. Just sit and talk.” You reasoned, then noticing his hesitation, added, “please.”

And when you gave him that shy sort of smile, who was he to disagree?

So roughly forty minutes later, the both of you were sat at the hotel bar, each nursing your own cocktails.

“I never took you for the cocktail type.” You elbowed his arm.

He laughed, cheeks flushed from the alcohol this time. “What did you expect?”

“Something aggressive.” You shrugged. “Doesn’t max like gin and tonics?”

He tilted his head. “How would you know? Are you a fan?”

You grinned. “Definitely. He’s my favorite driver.”

Oscar chuckled again. “Oh? And here I was thinking I was the favorite.”

Your face scrunched in consideration. “I only root for winners. But you’re a close second.”

There was something about every word that came out of your mouth that made him laugh. “I guess I’ll just have to get McLaren to build a winning car.”

“Or pray for a miracle.”

Again, another laugh.

Neither of you said anything for a moment. But you watched him. Watched as he took another sip of his cocktail.

Then you tilted your head, a bright smile, “you don’t have to pretend.” You shook your head. “Mason isn’t here.”

He glanced around, stuttering. “What? Pretend what?”

Glancing at his hands, you inched yours closer. Almost enough to touch. “Oscar, I known you’ve had a crush on me for years.” You chuckled quietly. “Noticed it when you were fifteen.”

Blinking, calculating, then, “six years you’ve known?! And you’ve never said anything?”

“Mason was always around. You seemed overly cautious of what he’d think.” You shrugged. “Didn’t want this to be mega awkward.”

“Six years.” He breathed and laughed in disbelief. “Six years?!” He repeated. “That-that’s six years that we could’ve- you-“ he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to keep his composure.

“I like you too,” your hand slipped into his as he opened his eyes again. Brown eyes wide like a little doe. “Though, not as long. Took me another year.”

“Two.” He clarified.

You raised a brow.

“I’ve liked you since I first met you.” He confessed, his hand lightly squeezing yours.

You smiled, the opportunity to tease him was there, but you didn’t take it. You shifted closer to him. Paused, hesitated. And then, a peck to his lips.

Only the briefest of contact, but it made his head explode.

“So what now?” You tilted your head to the side.

“How about a date?”

[p1astr81]

Oscar x reader who is rly stressed and overworked one day he comes home from a triple header and shes like doing her and hair and sobbing and he just completely comforts her and finishes her hair for her while whispering comforting words to her and being rly physical.

THIS IS LONG IK IM SORRY

cw: use of y/n and pet names (baby), not proof read

Between schooling and work, the stress had been piling on your shoulders day after day. Worst of all, your usual support person had been gone for three whole weeks.

Meant to go out with friends later in the day, you were putting your hair into a braided bun. It wasn’t working, though. Frustration built, and everything you’d been holding in broke free. Hands shaking, tears flowing down your face faster than you could process. Ugly, broken sobs rang out.

You hadn’t heard Oscar come through the door. Hadn’t known that he was home until he was hugging you as hard as he could, tucking your head into his chest and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

Letting your hair fall, you clung onto his arms. Nails dug into his skin as if to make sure he was actually there.

“You’re alright. It’s alright. I’m here.” He whispered into your ear, his hand stroking your back. “I’m here.” He repeated.

You sobbed harder. He held tighter.

More words were whispered into your ear. “What’s wrong, baby? What’s wrong? What happened?” He tried. You only shook your head. “Come on, talk to me.”

Another shake of your head. You hid your face in his arm. “I can’t. I can’t.” Was all you offered him.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t do it! I can’t do it anymore, Oscar!” Your nails started to draw blood. He didn’t care. “Work and- and school- I-“ hiccup “and my hair. I can’t do it anymore.” Your breath shuttered “I’m so burnt out. My brain can’t function anymore Oscar I-“ a sigh. “I can’t.” A broken whisper, one that sounds like giving up.

He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here, that I left you to-“

“No, don’t. Stop. Stop apologizing.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m-“ he cut himself off, the sorry dying in his throat. “What’s wrong with your hair, baby?”

“I can’t get it to look right.” You sputtered between sobs.

He pulled away slightly, but kept his hands on your shoulders. He stood behind you now. “What’s wrong with it? What do you want me to do with it?” His words were so gentle, his soft eyes looking at yours through the mirror.

Your frowned deepened, and you tried to wipe the tears away. They just kept coming anyway. “You don’t have to. I don’t wanna-“

“Y/n.” It was one word, but the way he said it communicated everything. He was there for you. Would do anything if you just asked it of him.

A choked sob as you tried to reign in the tears. “A loose braided bun.”

“Okay.” He chuckled, trying to ease you. “I can do that.” He nodded, his hands in your hair before you could say anything else.

Even though he was so concentrated on making your hair look perfect, he didn’t skip out on the reassurance.

Everything is going to be okay. He whispered and kissed your temple.

It’s just temporary. He squeezed your arm.

Take a day off if you need. Your brain more important. And to make his point, he kissed the top of your head.

See? One thing out of the way. He whispered when he was done, his arms wrapped around you. You’ll get through it. I know you will because you’re too damn stubborn to let this make you quit.

You gave a weak laugh at that, leaning your body into his, letting his body heat bring you comfort. “Thank you.” You said, looking up at him. “For… for everything, really.”

He frowned. “Anything you need. Ever. Just call me. I’ll always answer, even if it’s the dead of night for me.”

A heavy sigh passed your lips, tears pricking your eyes again at feeling so loved. You nodded, a hand threading through his hair to pull him down to meet your lips.

[p1astr81]

what about the reader being oscar's engineer?

there are many many talented women in Motorsport. This is a work of fiction and in no way meant to diminish any of their accomplishments!

also this is set in my ideal alternate universe where the 500 and Monaco GP are still the same day next year.

This one’s a sorta long one lol (wc: 3k)

cw: use of y/n, awkward scenes that made me nervous writing them, multiple time jumps, sexual references (nothing explicit), one bed trope, two clueless idiots, i guess you could say pining but not really, not proof read

He was a stubborn fucker, always convinced he knew what was right.

“The mediums aren’t working” He claimed after a free practice session.

“They are. We have-“ you tried to correct.

He cut you off. “I’m telling you, as the person who is sitting in the car, they’re falling off way too quick. And not worth it.”

Eyes narrowed, you tilted your head. “Perhaps it’s a driver issue then.”

He just shook his head. “Just saying, I think two Hards and a medium for the race.”

You nodded, sure you’d take his opinion into account, but, “we have a team of people whose entire job is analyzing strategy. I’m sure they know what’s best for you.”

And in the race, when he felt that you’d left him on the mediums for too long? “Mate, think about getting me off of these fucking mediums.”

Despite his attitude, “Plan A, Oscar,” was all you said in response.

“And I’m telling you Plan B.”

You chewed your cheek, then looked to Andrea. Andrea looked to your lead engineer. Back at you. He nodded.

You huffed. “Box this lap.”

Oscar said nothing. Not in the moment.

But boy did you hear it after.

“I told you.” Was the very first thing he said to you.

You rolled your eyes. “You do one thing right and you think you’re the smartest man alive.”

He shrugged. “Smarter than you, I guess.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Just go get ready for media before I have Sophie on my ass.” You gave his shoulder a shove.

A chuckle, the sound low and rumbled. “Wanna come with? Watch me change?” It wasn’t a real offer, said just to get a reaction out of you.

Shaking your head, you gave him another shove. “Get out of here.”

It was flirting. Thinly veiled by constant arguments—or bater, as Lando would say.

Three races later, Oscar caught too much of a curb, lost control and hit the wall. The rear suspension broke, as well as the rear wing.

You waited for him in the garage.

He blew right past you.

You followed him all the way to his driver’s room.

“I told you to watch that curb.” You expressed, calm but with the undertones of irritation.

“I’m aware.” He muttered.

“Then what was what?” You gestured a hand to the door.

He sighed. “A mistake.”

Your arm fell back to your side, shoulders slumping. Something was off about him. You could see it in the way he threw his gloved down and yanked at the sleeves of his overalls.

Concern etched its way onto your face. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He dismissed.

But you pressed, stepped forward. “Don’t lie to me.”

Mirroring your movements, he also took a step closer. Dangerously close. Almost chest to chest. He glared down at you, but the look was fragile. Forced. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak-

“Oscar, media!” The shout through the door came after two quick knocks.

His eyes lingered on yours a beat longer before he shoved past you.

McLaren held their usual end of season party. You were in a blue dress that reached your ankles. The top half didn’t hide your curves, nor did it annunciate them. From your hips, the dress fell strait. The happy medium between professional and good looking.

Andrea took the microphone.

“Thank you all for being here tonight.” He started. Many more thanks followed after that. Paid special attention to each department, devised individual thanks to each of them. And then to the drivers. “You both gave us an incredible show this year, even if it did make us all nervous on many occasions. And thank you so much for maintaining the peace between you two. Truly, it makes everyone’s lives much, much easier.” The room erupted in laughter. “So if you could both come up here?” Andrea gestured with his hand.

Lando spoke first, thanked the team for the car they built and Oscar for allowing him to have a chance at the championship. Cheeky, as Oscar would say.

Oscar was next, followed the same script of thanking the whole team for helping him win his first championship. And then, “and a special thanks to my race engineer, y/n. Despite the many disagreements we had, this wouldn’t have been possible at all without you.”

Your face went pink. You gave him a small smile and a nod.

Later in the night, he found you secluded in a corner. “Wow, I got special thanks? An honor, truly.” Sarcasm, obviously. It carried your usual conversations, and this one would be no different.

Or so you thought. “I meant what I said. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, well. It’s kinda my job.”

“It’s not just that. If it was anyone else…” he shook his head and shrugged, implying that he wouldn’t have been able to do it.

Staring at him, you tried to decipher whether or not he was joking. He had to have been. “You’re just saying that so I don’t-“

“No I’m not. I’m serious.”

And he was. You could see it in his eyes. Still, a part of you was skeptical. You shifted on your feet. “Okay. Thanks.”

You hadn’t seen each other until testing in late February. Headset over your ears, arms crossed and brows furrowed against the sunlight. “Your car looks good with that number one.” Was the very first thing you said to him.

He chuckled. “Hopefully I can keep it for another year.”

Both hands raised in defense. “Hey, they’ve done the best they could. It’s up to you now.”

His lips split into a smile, showcasing his bunny teeth. “And you. Don’t forget, I can’t do it without you.” He repeated his words from months earlier.

Those words did something funny to your chest. Your heart, more specifically. Like the beating of it had stopped completely, and shocked into a new rhythm.

“How about we get some laps in?” You changed the topic quickly.

The rain was coming down hard in Australia. Droplets the size of golf balls chucked down to the pavement outside repeatedly.

Stupidly, you’d forgotten your wallet at the track. Which held all of your cards. Including your hotel room card. It was too late to go back.

You’d been standing in the hotel lobby somewhere between thirty minutes and an hour. Apparently, they’d given you the only existing keys to your room.

Oscar, hungry for a small snack, came down to the lobby. He paused, spotting your slumped figure at the receptionist desk.

“What are you doing?”

You’d heard a lot of Australian accents today. But his was easily distinguishable. You turned around, brows raised and eyes tired. “Oh uh, forgot my wallet at the track. Apparently they have no extras room keys so now I’m standing here waiting while they figure something out because they also have no open rooms.”

Oscar glanced around. No sign of any employee. And you looked exhausted. “Why don’t you just stay with me tonight?”

A blink. Then a strange, awkward laugh. “What?”

“I don’t mind.”

Your attempt to stand up straighter failed, weighed down by exhaustion. “No, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

It was his turn to laugh. A genuine sound, not awkward like yours. “I just said I don’t mind. And besides, you look beat and I need my engineer wide awake for qualifying.”

It was dangerous and potentially crossed the line to unprofessional. Even so, a nice bed sounded like heaven to you right now. A second more of confliction. And then, “I’m too tired to fight you.” You shook your head and started walking with him.

Right after he got a snack from the vending machine, you both went up to his room.

He loaned you a pair of grey and white pajama pants, and a t-shirt of his.

He ignored how the sight did something weird to his stomach. Like it had just done four summersaults in a row.

The both of you settled into bed, your backs turned to each other. Everything was fine that night.

But then the sun rose the next morning. He woke before you to find your body hugging his. Your head snuggled into his neck, an arm around his torso, and a leg across his lap.

That wasn’t the issue, though. No, it was something much harder to ignore. Especially when you were shifting every five seconds, your leg rubbing against him each time.

He cursed under his breath, shifting slowly away from you. Waking you would be the worst mistake of his life. He could say it was typical for guys to wake up hard, but would you believe him? He doubted it, and he didn’t want to risk whatever dynamic you two had going.

Lucky for him, he was able to slip away from you without waking you up. He went and took a cold shower while you continued to sleep.

Oscar had an issue. He couldn’t get you off his mind. It’s like you were haunting him, even though you were still very much alive.

He knew why. But it scared him—terrified him, even.

And he was being stupidly obvious with his infatuation. “I think we should go plan B. Given where you’re starting, I think it’s the smartest.” You shrugged, pointing out graphics on the computer.

“Sounds good.” He smiled.

That threw you off, rapidly blinking at him like he had eight heads. “That’s it? No argument? No ‘what about’s?” It was a historical moment in your books.

He just shook his head. “You have more degrees than me, so.” A shrug.

Still, you didn’t believe him. “Are you feeling okay?”

He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “Of course.”

You looked genuinely scared, glancing around the garage. “Okay.” You said it like you didn’t really believe him.

Everything exploded after he won in Monaco. After the celebrations died down, and the both of you were drenched in champagne, he found a moment alone with you. “Hey, uhm-“

“Ah! Hey! Congratulations again! Honestly it’s unbelievable!” For the fifth time since the race ended, your arms were circled around his neck.

Yes. He was keeping count.

His hands were on your waist. Just enough to be there. The faintest of touch. “Yeah, but do you want to come over to my place and watch the 500 with me?” He asked after you pulled away.

Pause. “Uh,” a glance around. Then a small smile. “Sure, why not? I’ll see you soon.”

Soon was sooner than he anticipated. You were knocking on his door before he got the chance to make the house look spotless. The living room looked great, but that was about it.

He opened the door to you sporting a shy smile. “I hope I’m not too early. But I just thought-“

“No, you’re okay. I was just tidying few things up.” He dismissed quickly, a tiny white lie.

You took in his living space. Spacious, but not so much to the point it felt empty. There wasn’t much color to it though, apart from the occasional pop of blue. You nodded as he closed the door behind you. “Expensive.” You commented, a light chuckle.

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” He muttered, moving around you to the living room.

You followed him slowly. The sofa cushions absorbed you as you sat down.

The tension in the room was thick. Awkward. You’d never been alone before, not without someone else nearby. Save for that night in Australia, which didn’t really count because you were only half conscious, living off energy drinks.

It was like without other people’s eyes prying, neither of you knew what to do or say around the other.

“It’s nice though. Not what I was expecting from you.” Then you realized how that sounded. Typically, you wouldn’t care. If anything, it just goaded him into another back and forth. But today felt different. He felt different. “Not in a bad way, just. Yeah,”

“No, yeah.” He paused. “Do you want anything? Something to drink or a blanket? Or- or-“

“No I’m good.” You shook your head.

The broadcast turned on as soon as the green flag was waved. “Right on time.” He joked. You laughed along.

The awkward tension in the air only thickened with each lap. Oscar’s reactions were expressed through subtle shifts in his brows. Yours were limited to how hard you bit down on your lip.

Finally, it was too much for you. “Scotty is doing good.”

“Wha- oh, yeah.” He nodded, hardly sparing you a glance.

You sat forward, within his peripherals. Tilted your head and a brow raised in question. “What’s up with you? You’re acting off.”

“No I-“ he cut himself off when he looked at you. Afraid at how much he wanted to kiss you. He swallowed and adverted his eyes. “No I’m not.” Quiet, like he was unsure of his own claims.

The way he stuttered. The way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. You noticed it all. “Okay that was weird.” You laughed, trying to ease the tension. “Did I say something? Or do something?”

He shook his head. No words offered.

“Then why are you so…” you gestured with your hand. “Nervous?”

His eyes met yours again, flickered down to your lips. His eyebrows were creased like looking at you pained him. “Just the race.” He brushed off.

You let him off the hook.

But it kept happening.

Every conversation, Oscar only spared you glances. Kept every sentence as short as it could be. Even when you tried to start an argument to get something out of him… nothing. Hardly a response.

You caught him alone in the hallway of the hotel in Belgium. “Oscar.” You called, audibly irritated.

He paused before turning. “Hey.”

“What is wrong?” The irritation was gone. Morphed into distress. “You’ve been so weird since the beginning of the year. It’s frustrating and frankly-“

His hand closed around your wrist, and he pulled you into his room. “I know.” He breathed.

“Why?” Your eyes darted between his eyes, searching for something in them. A hint of sorts. “Is it me? Did I do something?” And when he didn’t say anything, “tell me Oscar, damnit!” You shoved him. He didn’t move. You bit your lip softly, eyes going glossy. “Please. Because this,” you gestured between them. “It’s not working. I can’t work with you like this.”

It was a long moment before he gained the courage to speak. “It’s not you.” He sighed. “I mean, I guess it is, but it’s nothing you did. Or I guess, it’s everything you did.” He shook his head, nothing inside making sense to him.

“I don’t understand.”

Another long pause from him as he chewed his cheek. “I don’t- I don’t think we can work together anymore.” He said quietly.

Silence. And then a scoff. “No! You said that you couldn’t-“

“I know what I said.”

“Then what is your problem?”

“You! You’re my problem!” He raised his voice. “I can’t focus with you around because- be- because”

“Because what?”

More silence. The words right on the tip of his tongue, but he was terrified of letting them roll off. It could fuck up everything. He could lose you forever.

“Because what, Oscar?” You asked again, quieter this time.

It coaxed the courage out of him, the fragility in your voice. He swallowed his fear. “Because I think I may be in love with you.” His voice cracked, his throat closing.

A sharp exhale expelled from your lungs. Then a deep breath. “You can’t just say that!”

“You asked!”

The silence stretched again. His eyes on yours. He hated how glossy they looked. The air around you shifted, thick with mutual hesitation.

You stepped forward first. Took the first move. Hands on his face, you pulled him down, smashed your lips onto his.

Oscar was too stunned to move. Too stunned to kiss back. Until you tried to pull away. He grabbed the back of your neck, bringing your lips back to his in a kiss that could only be described as needy. Needy in the way that he thought he would die if he didn’t taste your lips again. He finally got a taste of you, and he wasn’t letting it go.

You leaned against the closed door of his driver room, trying not to stare too hard as he got changed. “I need you to actually listen to me today. The team wasn’t happy with what you did last week.” A mini scolding. Your crossed over your chest. They told him to hold position while they lap the backmarkers.

He didn’t listen. Overtook Lando, and stole the win. Or not really stole per se, he did earn the position on merit, but the team wasn’t happy about it.

He huffed and ran a hand through his hair before tugging the balaclava over his head. “I get paid to go racing. So I go racing. And then I get reprimanded for going racing.” His hands flew about the place. Not so much frustration, just baffled.

“It’s more so about risking the 1-2, you know, taking each other out.”

Humming, he sauntered over to you, looking annoyed. But when he reached you and his hands fell to your waist, a smirk grew on his lips. “I’ll take you out.”

Smooth. You scoffed, a small shove to his chest. “You better. I’m expecting dinner on you tonight.”

His nose scrunched. “Only if you let me fight.”

The click of your tongue echoed around the small room. “You can fight. Just don’t be stupid about it.” You shrugged, fingers drumming on his chest.

“I wasn’t stupid.”

You rolled your eyes, no real fire behind it. “Right. You were risky.”

“But I didn’t crash. He didn’t crash.”

“You could’ve.”

“But I didn’t.”

Looking to the ceiling, you smiled. “Tell you what, if you don’t pull any stupid moves today… maybe there’ll be a reward after dinner.”

Now that was something you knew would get to him. And evidently it did as he chewed his cheek and scrunched his nose. “Okay. Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

You got closer to him, chests pressing together, noses brushing past one another. “Great.” Was all you said, a sensual whisper. Then your lips were on his. Soft and slow.

“Good luck.” You whispered when you broke apart. “Go get another win.”

He pecked your lips again. “Anything for you.”

[p1astr81]

my head is spinning so here’s a blurb on this pic

smut below the cut, 18+, doin it on gym equipment🤨

Initially, you walked into the home gym to ask him if he knew where the tv remote was.

You stopped in your tracks at the look of him.

Head down, intense focus. Sweat dripping down his arms and over the flush of his cheeks. His hair messy, and shifting with every push of the pedals. His shorts squeezed his deliciously toned thighs. Biceps strained against the confines of his t-shirt. maybe he should save his circulation and take it off.

He didn’t just look hot, but downright sexy.

Sensing your staring, he looked up. Called your name.

You didn’t answer. Hell, you didn’t even hear him. Too focused on the bead of sweat that that trickled down his arm and dripped off his fingertip. Holy fuck, his fingers.

It wasn’t even a conscious reaction how you crossed your legs and squeezed your thighs, nor how you drew your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down softly.

He got off the bike and crossed the room, tearing your mind from the lewd fantasies it conjured up. His arms circled your waist, drew you closer.

“What’s up?”

He asked the question like he hadn’t noticed how hard you were squeezing your thighs together.

And suddenly, the tv remote was forgotten about. The only thing your mushed brain could get out was a small plea.

“Fuck me.”

How could he deny such a thing when you looked up at him with eyes that begged him to ruin you?

So he did, up against the wall. And then again on one of the benches. He fucked you until the only words you could speak were ‘Oscar’ and ‘please’.

And after?

“I think that’s enough cardio for the day”

[p1astr81]

pretty please could you write about Ollie and virgin reader, but he doesn't know she's a virgin and gets confused and frustrated when even months in they haven't had sex. Maybe he goes to some of the other drivers (like Lando or something) for advice cuz he doesn't know what to do or why she won't sleep with him. I absolutely love your writing, keep up the incredible work 👏🏻🫶🏻♥️

Things were getting heated in his flat. He’d pulled you into his lap mid makeout as he was trying to devour your lips with his. His hands were all over you. In your hair, on your hips, under your shirt and roaming over your back.

But he wanted more than another heated make-out session. He rolled his hips into yours, creating friction.

You gasped, which he thought was a good thing.

Until you jumped off his lap and practically bolted to the kitchen. “I’m kind of hungry. Should we order or cook?” You covered quickly, opening the fridge like you were actually searching for a meal.

Ollie sighed at how you’d ran from him again. In truth, he was getting skeptical of your constant avoidance to move past kissing.

You’d never allowed him to kiss you below your collarbones, always pushed him away when he tried. Whenever his hand snuck up your thigh, you’d shift or move it. And that one time he’d squeezed your ass as a joke, and you blushed like crazy, got really quiet and avoidant.

He asked you if you were okay on multiple occasions. You always had some excuse. He was only willing to let it slide for so long.

The following week, as he was sat with Charles at lunch, he asked him about it.

“Does Alex ever… like… reject you?” He knew it was a highly personal question, but being constantly rejected was eating away at him. He had to know what was up.

Charles raised a brow, smirking a bit. A dimple carved into his cheek. “How do you mean?” He knew exactly how he meant it. He just wanted to hear him say it.

Ollie scoffed. “Like…” he scoffed again, frustrated. “Whenever I try to initiate anything, y/n just- she runs away.” He confessed, a quiet voice.

It was getting harder for Charles to not laugh. “Runs away?”

“Not actually but,” he sighed. “yeah.”

“Well, did you ask her about it?”

Ollie paused. “Not directly.”

This time, Charles did laugh. Not loudly or making a scene out of it. Just a quiet chuckle. “So you don’t know if she’s waiting for marriage?”

Another pause from the younger. Then quietly, slightly embarrassed, “I didn’t even consider that.”

Charles only laughed and shook his head at the younger driver.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that he worked up the courage to actually ask you.

Sat on the couch, watching a movie. Your head rested on his shoulder, arms hugging one of his. His hand placed on your mid-thigh.

You were dozing off, so relaxed curled into his side. He thought there was no better time.

“Hey baby?” He called and squeezed your thigh. You hummed, a very sleepy sound. Still, your tired eyes looked up at him through your lashes. “Are you waiting til marriage?” He found it difficult to look into your eyes as he spoke.

Brows tilted, you tip your head back to see him easier. “You mean like… to have sex?”

Ollie swallowed. “Yeah.” He breathed. “And- and I know it’s kind of invasive I guess but I just want to know because, well, because I keep trying to- uh- you know. And-“

“I figured you’d ask about it eventually.” You sat up, letting go of his arm. He missed your touch instantly. “I’m not exactly… saving. I mean, yes I’m still a virgin but that’s not why.” You reached for the remote and paused the movie in the middle of an action scene. You kept the remote in your hands, thumbing the buttons. “It’s stupid.” You muttered.

Ollie bumped your knee with his. “It’s not stupid. If it’s about you, I want to know.”

Too conflicted to answer, you left him with a pause. Your thumbs paused on the remote buttons. “I guess I’m just scared.”

The smile came before the laugh. You looked to him, face twisted in hurt. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” He clarified and your expression softened. “I just- I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” He laughed again, a small chuckle.

“So, you’re not upset?”

“Upset? No, why would I be? That’s normal, and we can get there whenever you’re comfortable. I just didn’t know.”

A weight was lifted off the both of your shoulders. Lighter now, you leaned into him again. Curled into his side.

“I love you.” You whispered, a hand on his chest, over his heart.

Ollie smiled, feeling all soft inside. “I love you, too.” He kissed the top of your head. “Even if you’re lacking a little in the communication department.” He joked.

You shoved his chest, earning a laugh. “Not like you tried to either.”

“I just did!”

“Yeah, after how many weeks?”

You had him there. He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I guess we are both guilty.”

[p1astr81]

(I fully posted this before it was finished🙈)

Franco wasn’t the kind of guy to post you on his socials. Nor was he the guy to show you off. He was more casual.

Franco brought you to the paddock for the first time in Italy. Introduced you to his team.

“Ah, your girlfriend? She’s never in any of your posts though?” One of them asked.

Franco laughed. “Yeah, you know how it is.” He shrugged, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

The group of them laughed.

You, on the other hand, went rigid. Tight smile. A fake laugh through your nose.

Franco hadn’t noticed the shift in your attitude. Not until much later. After the race, back at the hotel room.

He noticed how you neglected to laugh at his jokes, or even smile at them—at him.

“What’s up with you?” He asked as you brushed through your freshly washed hair. The smell of your shampoo still flowed thick through the air.

“Nothing. Why?” Short. Disinterested.

“Come on, you’ve been acting weird today.” His hands found your shoulders and ran along the length of your arms.

You placed your hairbrush on the bathroom counter. “What was that supposed to mean? ‘You know how it is’?” You sighed, irritated.

He blinked, his hands paused on your arms. “It was- it was nothing. We were just joking.” He reasoned slowly.

Chewing your cheek, you laughed through your nose again. You shrugged away from him. “A joke.” You nodded slowly, then turned to him. “Is that what this is?” You asked, a finger gesturing between you two.

He stuttered before finding his words. “No!? What why would-“

“Seems like it to me.” You tilted your head. “I mean, you’ll bring me to paddock but when it comes to actually showing we’re together…” you shrugged.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “It’s not like that.”

“Really? What’s it like then?”

He took a deep breath before grabbing your hand. Attitude carried your every step as he dragged you into the room and placed you on the bed. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I’m so serious about you. Like crazy insanely serious.” He paced in front of you. “I didn’t think you’d want me to flaunt you around like some prize I’d won.”

You furrowed your brows, offended at the comparison.

“Not- not- you’re not the prize. Well you are but not just some prize, you’re like the prize I guess-” You raised your eyebrows as he continued to ramble. “-but not like an actual prize because a prize is an object and you’re definitely not an object. It’s more like metaphorically and-“

“Franco.”

“-basically what I mean is that-“

“Oh my god, Franco I get it.” You sighed.

He finally stopped. Not only his words but also his pacing. His posture defeated, he looked at you for something more to come from your mouth.

“I get it. I should’ve just talked to you about it instead of overthinking it.” You nodded and stood, taking his hand in yours “I’m sorry.”

He sighed out of relief. “I’m sorry, too.”

Squeezing his hand, you smiled. “Okay, can we go to bed now? I’m exhausted.”

Franco laughed and nodded.