Uhh I Got Upset That All Of The Good Edits Were Losing Their Sounds On Tiktok So Out Of Rage I Created

oscar via @/diddlysquat.farmshop on instagram

i just know this is somebody's kink i just know it

#I beg of you #yes please #never felt a post as personal as this one

'this too shall pass' well can it pass fucking faster??

“i know you too well” extended cut😵‍💫

What are your favorite galex fics?

great question anon. i spent way too much time compiling this but i had fun lol

first of all the sacred texts, dare i say fandom classics, beautiful canon compliant get-together galex-centered fics that you all should read:

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat

nothing but teeth

any kind of favour

established relationship but somehow these authors make it so interesting

time trial

anything hurts less than the quiet (AU)

despite the abundance (GALEX FIC OF ALL TIME)

canonverse (as in they are racing drivers)

unsafe release

eagle eyed

call me on your way home

the type of guy

the mountains we climb (THE GEORGE/ALEX/LILY FIC OF ALL TIME BTW)

AUs:

flavors of fate (INVENTIVE COME EATING OF ALL TIME)

three's a crowd (the galex devotion thesis)

table in the back

for the thrill of it all (relevant in light of recent tory george discourse)

eye in the sky (looking at you)

rancid humiliation toxic dead dove etc

the price you pay for loss of control

childhood themes of nights alone

hit it hard

get down on it

fun short read

full throttle

carcar, carlandoscar, 3k, explicit content, set after the hungary gp (so, rancid)

The muteness wore away when the ceremony started. First place, no matter how convoluted, suited Oscar just fine. Carlos watched him hoist the trophy high, while wondering if Oscar had an extortionate sense of payback. The last time Carlos had won, in Melbourne, he hadn’t let Oscar come until Suzuka. Not even on Thursday before media duties. But on Saturday, after Qualifying, because no matter how mean he’d tried to be he couldn’t be the one to affect Oscar’s actual race.

His appendix surgery had been a good excuse. Carlos said, “You’re going to have to work for it yourself, if you want to come,” and intentionally kept the circle of his hand around Oscar’s cock loose and easy. Oscar had whined his frustrations, rutting fervently into Carlos’ palm for any sort of friction. It wouldn’t have needed much anyway; Oscar had been so weak for it.

“Asshole,” Oscar said as he came, but the viciousness of it was taken away by the way he’d almost sighed it, and then slumped into Carlos’s arms after. Soft and almost sweet.  

And then Carlos had podiumed. And Oscar had gotten eighth. Great feelings all around.

He’d seen it in the way Oscar had looked at him after though, the heat in his eyes burning its way up Carlos’s back in a slow crawl. Carlos knew. The next time. He’d be made to return the favour.

There wasn’t much of a wait. Not even a couple of hours after the champagne had been drunk, and the confetti peeled of sticky skin.

Carlos stared at the text with a room number. There was no other instruction, nor a time. Already, the itch under Carlos’s skin was becoming a near physical presence. If it were Carlos, he’d push, tell Oscar not to keep him waiting. Oscar would let Carlos draw his own conclusions. Let him wonder if he’d show up too early to an unoccupied room, and have to storm away and make the same trip twice. Or overthink and show up late, and be punished worse for it.

The AC was turned up high, but Carlos imagined he was sweating. Blood pooling in places he could not hide just from the anticipation.

He wasn’t sure of the time when he finally knocked. Two neat taps. He forced himself not to rock on the balls of his feet. When Oscar opened the door, Carlos could pretend he looked calm, in control.

“You took your time,” Oscar said. He didn’t sound annoyed or impatient. There was probably little room for it; winning tended to take up too much space. That didn’t mean Carlos could let his guard down.

“I assumed you’d be out with the team.”

“Two drinks.” Oscar shrugged, stepping aside so Carlos could come in. “That was about all I could stomach.”

Asking why was redundant. It was a one-two for McLaren. Lando would’ve been there, surely.

For such a straightforward guy, Oscar was surprisingly hard to read. He’d give Carlos these little clues, nothing else. The deal was that the winner could take all. Melbourne had been such a lesson. But Oscar seemed to be waiting for permission, paused at the narrow hallway less than a foot away from Carlos.

“So what you’re saying is,” Carlos said, “you haven’t celebrated.”

“No,” Oscar agreed. The wry twist of his lips was encouraging. “I have not.”

“Well,” Carlos said slowly. “What are you waiting for?”

Oscar’s spine stacked itself up, straight as can be. Impressive how quickly his demeanour changed. Imperturbable, unaffected Oscar, who was actually so perturbable and affected. Carlos was secretly delighted.

When Oscar planted himself at the edge of the bed, knees thrown apart with all the self-confidence of a race winner, Carlos went without a second thought. Knelt between Oscar’s legs obediently, and opened his mouth.

--

Oscar seemed to like Carlos’s hair. He kept his fingers knotted through, at times tugging hard enough for Carlos’s scalp to ache. It was a nice distraction, because Carlos wasn’t as much sucking as he was trying not to choke. Oscar hadn’t given him much time to adjust. His cock felt thick and inescapable in Carlos’s throat. Occasionally, Oscar would pull Carlos off by the hair, give him a shaky moment to breathe, before impaling Carlos back on his cock.

“Too much?” Oscar asked casually, when Carlos couldn’t stop the weak whimper forced out of his throat. “Ah, no. You like it.”

Of course Oscar would notice, Carlos growing harder by the second, while his hands fluttered uselessly under his thighs. His entire body jolted when Oscar nudged his foot against Carlos’s cock. Only enough to be the worst of teases. 

“Don’t whine,” Oscar said, when Carlos whined. “You made me wait two weeks.”

Carlos shivered. All he could comprehend was the weight of Oscar in his mouth. Solid, unforgiving. Drool slipped out, trailed down his chin. He didn’t want to think about the kind of picture he was making, looking up at Oscar like that. Pathetic enough for Oscar to soften.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.” Oscar continued to stroke Carlos with the tip of his big toe. Carlos couldn’t stop himself from curving into a half-moon shape, in an attempt to chase the paltriest of touches. “I’ll let you come today, if you’re good.”

Too easy, too easy. Carlos wasn’t stupid. Oscar wasn’t looking to be nice today, not after what his team had done to him. There wasn’t any of the usual triumph available to dampen the blow.

Carlos squeezed his eyes shut, braced himself, when Oscar began to thrust in his mouth. He gagged, fighting for a wet gasp of air. His throat was a stinging mess of sensation. The dull ache in his lower belly was worse. Above him, Oscar groaned, and the curl of fingers in his hair became an iron-clench.

“That’s what you’re good for,” Oscar said. He sounded miles away from Carlos, disembodied. “Your mouth, fuck, taking me so well. Your ass.” Carlos trembled, his hole clenched. A premonition of what was to come. “That’s all you were made for, for—”

Oscar came suddenly, violently, hips twitching. Like that was enough for him, the idea of Carlos just being his for the taking.

That was fine. Oscar was a race winner, and Carlos had come in sixth, behind Charles. He didn’t yet have a seat. In the moment, Oscar’s come pooling on his tongue, it didn’t make him feel that bad.

--

Oscar had him strip down to just his briefs, the fabric wet and constricting around him. Air felt like pins against his overheated skin. He was face down, hips up, knees kicked wide. Vulnerable in a way he could never get used to.

Unsurprisingly, Oscar hadn’t touched Carlos after he came. It was a good thing Carlos’s throat was all used up; he wasn’t above begging.

Oscar ran a hand down the inside of Carlos’s thigh, and he seized up like he’d been tazed.

“Sensitive,” Oscar said. “You waxed for me?”

No, Carlos thought sourly, but all he could manage was a garbled sound. Oscar rubbed his hole roughly through the cloth of his briefs, and the sound tapered into a high-pitched whine.

“You want it,” Oscar said.

Yes. “Yes!” he yelped, when Oscar laid a flat palm across his ass. More shock than pain. He tilted his head such that his cheek was squashed into the sheets, the eye contact somehow making everything better and worse. “I want. Oscar.”

Oscar dragged his briefs down, only so much that it exposed his hole, and left it uncomfortably taut around his upper thighs. His cock was still clothed, still begging for a touch that didn’t feel like a scratch. Protest was a helpless shake of his head, and Oscar pinched the flesh of his ass, a little meanly.

“Always complaining,” Oscar said. “Always wanting more than you can have.” 

A quality that could have been used to describe any of them. And so what? So what if he wanted? Pride slammed Carlos’s throat shut again. All he could do was push his hips back, begging for it in a way he could deny later.

It seemed an eternity, by the time Oscar deigned to slip a lubed-up finger into him. Carlos felt as if he’d been waiting so long, his abdomen tightened, his toes curled. Oscar was content to pump one finger in and out of Carlos, giving him nothing else. He’d smack Carlos’s thigh, tug his hips up whenever he got too close to the bedspread, leaving him rutting mindlessly against air.

Couldn’t even voice his complains, for fear of opening his throat and letting any of that neediness escape. His cock was so hard he was afraid he’d start sobbing.

“Hey.” Oscar’s finger stilled in him. He sounded funny. Carlos rocked back, pleading for more, and got a stinging slap against his ass for his troubles. “Do you want to try something new?”

Carlos had to count, take stock. The patch of sheet under his mouth was damp with saliva. His shoulders were starting to ache, taking the brunt of his weight. His thighs would start to shake soon, even with all the biking he’d been doing. Anticipation always wore him down quick. His right big toe was cramping up. This was a trap.

“What,” he croaked. Curiosity was going to kill him, as surely as a carelessly taken corner. “What are you thinking?”

“I said I’d let you come today, but I don’t really—”

Oscar paused. Carlos swore he could hear a buzzing in the room. His pulse sounded like thunder in his ears. Every one of his senses tuned toward Oscar.

“Don’t really deserve it, do I? Don’t really deserve to fuck you.”

No. No.

“Hey, Carlos.”

“Please,” he whispered into the bed, but he didn’t think Oscar could hear.

“Let’s get Lando in here.”

Carlos knew the second his body gave himself up. He clenched wildly around Oscar’s finger, his cock jumped in the confines of his briefs, and his knees gave out.

“Ah,” Oscar said. His finger in Carlos crooked down, viciously enough for Carlos to see stars. Barely anything had been done, and Carlos was already a gasping, trembling pile. “You want it.”

Carlos let himself imagine it. Lando. Lando. Draped over him, covering every inch of his skin. Fucking him while Oscar watched. All that talk about not being deserving, but it was Oscar who got to peel back Carlos’s skin while he sat and did nothing. Oscar. Oscar. Oscar.

His mind was patchwork of burnt synapses. Distantly, he was aware his hips were twitching, rubbing pathetically against the sheets. It wasn’t enough. Wouldn’t be enough until Oscar gave him what he wanted.

And he wanted, God, he wanted.

“I, I.” He couldn’t form the right words, throat working uselessly. “Fuck, Oscar.”

“Shh,” Oscar said. “I’m calling him.”

--

“Oi. Osco.”

Carlos blinked muzzily. Hell. That was—Lando, stepping through the door. Carlos hadn’t even noticed the automatic lock click, so focussed he was on the three fingers spearing him open. But now all Carlos could hear were Lando’s footsteps, each one taking him closer to the bed.

“Lando,” Oscar said, deathly calm. “Glad you could make it.”

“You win one race and you think you can order me around—fuck.”

Carlos swallowed, his throat clicking. He couldn’t turn around to see what expression Lando was wearing. Couldn’t close his legs either. The surface of his skin felt as if it were on fire, all his shame on display. Oscar reached down, and tugged sharply on Carlos’s balls, and the whimper that slid out of him would haunt him for a long time.

“Oscar, what the fuck.” Said bewilderedly, but not uninterestedly.

The suggestive wonder in Lando’s voice had Carlos’s hole clamping down on Oscar’s fingers reflexively.

“Look at him,” Oscar said. “You just got here and he’s already gagging for it.”

“Oscar, again,” Lando said. “What the fuck?”

“Carlos needs someone to fuck him today,” Oscar said, as if they were discussing the weather. Or some produce at the supermarket. Look at this peach. Ripe and ready to eat. “Can’t be me though, right?”

A second ago Carlos couldn’t put together the jigsaw puzzle comprising of Lando’s face, while he looked at Carlos all spread out and leaking like a tap. But now, it slotted together, piece by perfect piece. Carlos sensed the moment Lando understood. The moment he accepted Oscar’s handshake over a chessboard.

“Right,” Lando said. “Can’t be you. Not after today.”

The silence that followed tore at Carlos, produced another whimper. Very different games from the ones he and Charles played. Maybe he’d just been driving in circles blind, this whole time, while everyone else made chess moves that far eclipsed the mid-field.

“Go on,” Oscar said. “He’s all ready and waiting for you.”

“Carlos?”

Almost sweet, the slight hesitation. Lando thinking to check, even while Oscar dangled Carlos in front of him, three fingers still thrusting in and out of Carlos as if he were a toy.

“Carlos,” Oscar cut in. The way they said his name was so unlike, wrapped in their own version of favour. “Tell Lando what you told me, just now. Tell him how much you want it.”

The order shot straight down his brainstem through his spine and into his dick. Carlos moaned, shifting desperately on his knees, thrusting his ass up higher. “Lando, please,” he said. “Please, fuck me.”

“Fucking Christ,” Lando said.

There was a muffled sound, skin on skin, with weight behind it. Lando shoving Oscar out of the way, tearing Oscar’s fingers unceremoniously out of Carlos. There came Oscar’s very bothered, unbothered scoff. Carlos wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. 

At least Lando was willing to tug his briefs down all the way, release Carlos’s cock which slapped against his stomach. He was so embarrassingly hard.

“He’s kept you waiting, huh, Carlos?”  The thin veneer of gentleness made the hair on Carlos’s forearms stand. Had Lando ever crooned so softly at him? Carlos couldn’t remember. Back in his McLaren days, maybe. The orange stained them all differently.

“And you’re making him wait even more,” Oscar said.

Carlos would grumble, if he knew he could get away with it. So now Oscar’s impatient? Now that there’s someone else in the room to witness Carlos falling apart?

“Fuck off, Oscar,” Lando said, media-trained pleasantness turned on full blast. The click of the lube, the slow, slick sounds of Lando stroking himself. By the time Lando pressed into Carlos, Carlos would have remade himself waiting, he was sure of it. “I’m doing your work for you, in case you forgot.”

“You’re both,” Carlos rasped, unable to bear their catfight any longer, “children—”

The stretch was almost bearable, after how brutally Oscar had played with his hole. All the breath punched out of Carlos’s lungs. He moaned piteously, even as he did his best to shove himself back on Lando’s cock. Carlos could choke on them both; he had the appetite for it.

“Baby,” Lando cooed, “you feel so, so—”

“He feels good,” Oscar said. Can’t let Lando get one over him. “He’s always, always, so fucking tight.”

Oscar was never careless with his words. Never. Not even when he complained about Carlos in front of god and country. Always. He knew what Lando would think. Three chess moves ahead.

The prickle of indignation fell to the wayside when Lando started fucking him, harder than Carlos thought Lando would ever touch him. No gentleness or finesse. His cock was an uncompromising stab in Carlos. He felt it all the way up his belly, even to his throat. Aftershocks of when he had Oscar in him. Lando was trying to redo it all. Carlos didn’t know how to break it to him that used was used.

Lando slipped out, in haste or contemplation, Carlos couldn’t tell. Were they both looking at his abused hole? Or were they looking at each other? Carlos’s mind was coming up blank.

Lando fucked back into him, finding his prostate, and Carlos cried out. Scratched at the bed thoughtlessly. He wasn’t holding himself up; he was barely holding on. Lando’s hands were wrapped around his hips, digging in bruises that Carlos would feel all the way to the next race. His cock dribbled pre, a mess on his stomach and the sheets.

“Oscar,” Carlos said.

He flinched when Lando smacked him on the thigh, hard. At a better time, Carlos would tell them they were two sides of the same coin. “I’m the one fucking you,” he said.

“He can’t come unless I say so,” Oscar said, voice dipped in satisfaction. “You want to, Carlos?”

“Yes,” Carlos gasped. “Yes, fuck, I want.”

“Ask for it,” Oscar said. “Go on, baby.”

Never a mistake. Carlos tossed his head, whined his displeasure. Lando was splitting him open and it still seemed as if Oscar had Carlos fit into the palm of his hand. Lando was going to see Carlos begging for it. That had been the plan from the very start.

Lando was silent. Carlos couldn’t be. No self-preservation left, worn down to the quick.

“Please,” Carlos sobbed. “Please, please, please, Oscar, please—”

Oscar’s hand found his wet, desperate cock, stroked him to the time of Lando’s increasingly irregular thrusts. “Good,” he said. “You can come, Carlos. You’ve worked for it.”

Carlos shook, every muscle tensing up, before thawing like melted butter. He came, mind wiped clean from the pleasure and the shame. Sparks rewiring him from the inside out. He fell forward, and there was Oscar’s arm, supporting him against the dull weight of Lando on his back. He twitched, moaned, mouth rising and falling in pleading shapes.

“Good,” Oscar said again.

--

“You can leave now,” Oscar was saying to Lando.

Carlos’s eyes were barely open. There was an arm around him, stroking his shoulder with a gentleness completely lacking before. Whose arm was it? Carlos couldn’t give a damn.

“Or shower, if you want, whatever. I don’t care.”

Don’t let him play you like that, Carlos wanted to say, but his tongue was too thick in his mouth. And anyway, he should probably take his own advice, before giving it. Carlos leaned into the doting hand with a sigh. He was sore everywhere a body could be sore.

The last thing he knew before falling, was the soft, apologetic press of lips against his. Slightly chapped, smelling of that godawful Papaw lip balm. In the far, faraway background, the sounds of the shower started. Someone murmured his name. But Carlos was too tired. They could continue this in the morning.

#spreading the good wishes #this year dudes

this is so embarrassing but I got rly into the horoscope stuff about landoscar and wrote a giant thing about it all

unlike Lando I wasn't that knowledgeable about astrology before this, just the basics. so I took from a bunch of different sources.

if someone sees this and knows astrology pls add onto it bc it's really fascinating (also I'm new to fandom so if someone already did this I'm sorry I haven't seen it yet)

Oscar is an Aries and Lando of course Scorpio.

Both are signs that can have a tendency toward complications in any of their relationships mainly because of their ambition. But as we'll see they themselves bond over ambition.

They represent the beginning and end of the astrological cycle (Aries is the start, Scorpio is the end). So not only complimentary but also very powerful within their signs.

In terms of modalities, Oscar's Aries is a Cardinal Fire sign and Lando's Scorpio is a Fixed Scorpio. Aries starts things and Scorpio sees them through. I read this as Lando saying that Oscar will challenge him a lot more and push him - I always saw this as Lando seeing a fresh start to his own career.

Aries is a Fire sign and Scorpio is Water which I've already turned into a tag for them because I really like that.

Aries birthstone is Diamond and gemstone is Bloodstone. Scorpio's birthstone is Topaz and gemstone is Citrine. I wish I knew more to find out if that's significant.

Both are ruled by Mars and respect each other's ambitions.

They can take turns in cheering the other on from the sidelines but also motivate the other to be the best versions of themselves.

Aries and Scorpio are both made to be the center of things and be magnetic to others. Aries does this by being confident and stubborn while Scorpio is seductive and bossy. And wow if that doesn't describe some of the best and more 'challenging' aspects of their racing careers.

Aries is a born leader and Scorpio is a natural center of attention.

Scorpio will triumph in pursuing Aries and Aries will be "powerless to resist" BUT Scorpio will dive in really fast and risk their heart more. That's okay because once Aries has been won over they love to offer reassurance and attention to Scorpio. Kind of how we couldn't get a read on Oscar and were worried Lando wouldn't get his energy returned to him but after a few months we realized Oscar was really eager to work with Lando and was just nervous about him and McLaren/F1 etc.

When they clash it can be intense but they can also have an unbreakable, blind trust in each other that lets them reconcile without any resentment. They can also reconcile extremely quickly.

Seriously, trust between the two signs is until death to us part. Which for friends/teammates explains why they've already had to undergo a lot of competition between them but they only seem to get closer and more comfortable with each other.

Aries can help Scorpio get out of their own head and overcome insecurities by their (Aries) positive ambitious nature! I love that one.

Verbal communication is their weakest point because Scorpio is complex and frightened of opening up and Aries is straightforward and doesn't like to get lost in their own head. But honestly for teammates or friends I feel like it's better that they trust each other and it doesn't matter that they can't talk for hours on end like Lando does with Carlos. Especially since Lando said it was kind of a benefit being on separate teams to a friend like Carlos because the competition wasn't something they necessarily enjoyed. And we all know how that went with Daniel. Way better not being on the same team.

It's also for the best for Oscar and Lando because they're both averse to showing their hand emotionally too much and it could lead to a lot of miscommunication. Scorpio is scared of getting hurt and Aries is scared of being misunderstood.

The fact that they both value bravery and faithfulness is probably why they don't need much communication to be honest. They both respond to acts/demonstrations of trust more than expression through words. Again why their relationship has grown each time they face challenging races.

They're also compatibly healthy in that Scorpio finds bravery in facing their fears but Aries finds bravery in tackling a new challenge. So after a tough race when Lando finishes hiding away and licking his wounds he has Oscar there all ready to start the next race with a clean slate.

Funnily enough, Aries brings warmth and light to Scorpio and motivates Scorpio to let go of insecurities which is… really really sweet?? A lot of places describe Scorpio (esp early Nov) as being like an elusive intriguing moonbeam type person with Aries as a confident steady sunshine.

What I find most interesting is that at first glance their personalities seem at odds with their signs buttt after obsessing over them a solid what, 7 months or more? I think the fact that Aries/Oscar is genuinely much more socially confident and comfortable in new life situations fits in with how he is happy to travel around the world alone and board away from family and decide his own fate in F1 fits that perfectly. Whereas Lando socially always leans into another person to help him navigate public speaking or making content etc and his social battery tends to drain pretty fast around people he's not simpatico with which fits with Scorpios often seeming aloof and standoffish (press and fans misinterpreting this as Lando being a brat).

Apparently the thing they're best at doing together is sex sssooooo let's translate that into "pushing each other harder on the track" alsgfjsafj

ship/fic-centric stuff

They will ALWAYS fuck fast and fuck furious. Very little time will elapse between meeting and fuckening.

Romantic love will often only form after sexual gratification because Scorpio/Aries sex is apparently the best there is !! (crazy wild and never get enough etc) But when the romantic love is created it's intense and permanent.

They both have a hard line on infidelity within their relationship (Aries/Scorpio) and they would never cheat on each other. With other signs etc is more vague. If the bond isn't strong or the passion fades then they might cheat on other people - just never on each other. But if their other partners cheat on them then it's good night jim kite broken up/divorced/shipping the box of belongings with no note attached.

Apparently Scorpio will straight up be a freak in bed and Aries will love keeping up with them. Lando will want to do EVERYthing and Oscar will be ready to do anything for him.

Not that it's applicable outside traditional gender norms but in Scorpio/Aries relationships, Scorpio is always assigned distinctly feminine and Aries distinctly masculine. Again, gross in a cishet sense but if you're a believer in masculine and feminine energies then that's generally how they would fall.

Both signs are extremely possessive and it bonds them together so well because Scorpio needs to feel constant reassurance that the fire is still alive and Aries will always provide and be rock solid reliable. So a really easy form of conflict would be to have one of them unable to hide jealousy of either the other's partner or close friend. Apparently Lando would lash out and show spite whereas Oscar would sulk and openly glare.

Honestly so much of this was about intimacy and bonding through hot scorching risk-taking sex soooo I think the sky is the limit when it comes to how wild they would get real fast. Think Oscar crowding Lando a lot or making him do something exhibitionist and Lando getting frisky in inappropriate places or producing a heinous variety of erotic game play.

yea please add to this if you know anything else apparently I can't get enough of it

wedding vibes yo💚💚

(via DTS6 trailer)

💙

please reblog this if it is okay to anonymously confess something to you.