While I'm Super Happy For Lando And His Incredible Sprint Pole, I Think That Was The Most Upset/angry

spooky 🎃

If you see this, lol, its Halloween

George n Lance spooky

made the grave error of opening up ye olde facial application again and um. i need her.

Oscarina as pt.3? (Of this series?)

(I might be taking a crack at the arcane artstyle, who knows. The show has taken over my brain)

join the movement

need to read this and like put it on my wall or something 😔

STOP BEING SELF CONSCIOUS ABOUT YOUR CREATIONS STOP SECOND GUESSING WHAT YOU REALLY WANNA DO STOP DEBATING IT'S WORTH. LET YOUR ART SERVE YOU INSTEAD OF THE OTHER WAY AROUND

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.

"Oscar is too young" -'99 baby, Lando Norris

And then, as if to prove it right, he and logan don't know a queen lyrics 😭

F1 FANFICS REC LIST - Rule63/Genderswap/Girl Drivers

jump right in (162647 words) by peachbellini Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Series: Part 2 of girls just wanna f1 Summary: Lando being a girl is not a problem. Lando being hot. That’s the problem.

I recommend the WHOLE series!

oOoOoOo

When you look at me tell me what do you see (5143 words) by weegreenbean Rating: Mature Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen Summary: “You, you, you’re a girl! A …a woman!” Charles eventually gapes out and the look Max gives him could level a building. “Well spotted, dickhead,” he no, no fucking no, she hisses in response and okay, Charles thinks it is perfectly reasonable to feel his knees buckle slightly against the wall of Max’s driver room. Or Max is a woman. Charles becomes determined to help her be herself.

oOoOoOo

lacy black pair (3661 words) by buildyourfences Rating: Mature Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Oscar Piastri Summary: “Would you like that, Oscar?” Charles leans in, extends a hand to grip Oscar’s exposed thigh. “For me to dress you?” Oscar nods, doesn’t trust herself not to say something embarrassing if she opens her mouth. “Good,” Charles purrs.

oOoOoOo

down on you (6044 words) by MisanthropyMuse Rating: Explicit Relationships: Oscar Piastri/Carlos Sainz Jr Summary: “I’m just saying—I would have liked you on the podium with me so I could look down on you from the top step this time.” Now it’s his turn to blush, tan skin turning an enticing shade of dark red as he looks at her, eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before they meet hers, deep and intense. “That can still be arranged,” he says, voice lower now, smooth with a hint of excitement that makes her insides tingle. Carlos might have missed out on the podium, but he ends up with Oscar standing on top of him nonetheless, and it's almost just as good.

oOoOoOo

Reset me (7487 words) by f1amboyant Rating: Explicit Relationships: Oscar Piastri/Carlos Sainz Jr Summary: “You realize what you’re asking me, right?” Oscar said, taking a step forward, like it could prove his point. What was his point, again? “Because this?” He gestured to Carlos’ body, the body of a woman, no doubt about that. “There’s truly only one way I can help you with this. You know that, right?” Carlos softly bit his lip for a brief second, immediately followed by his tongue wetting the invisible indentation left there. Oscar was looking. He was looking so bad. “I’m aware,” Carlos said. “And you’re still asking me?” “Yes.” OR: Carlos gets turned into a woman and asks Oscar, of all people, to help him.

oOoOoOo

like honey but sweeter (the grass here is greener) (5212 words) by lisbian Rating: Explicit Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell Summary: “Georgie,” she butts in, only half paying attention as she types out a dumb comment on Lando’s latest Instagram post. “Have you ever thought about just dating women?”

oOoOoOo

do me a favour (17702 words) by crimandclove Rating: Explicit Relationships: George Russell/Lance Stroll Summary: January 2024 - George finds himself single, stressed, with a set of tits & one Lance Stroll in his home.

oOoOoOo

GR63 (12047 words) by Ossobuco Rating: Explicit Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/George Russell Summary: “All right, thank you, everyone,” George says as the last few of his colleagues settle into their chairs. “This meeting of the Grand Prix Drivers’ Association is now in session. As you all know, it’s our third race week of the year and we have quite a bit to get to, but as the first order of business, I would like to propose an inquiry into a situation in which many of us have found ourselves, rather inexplicably. I’m aware that in past seasons, established procedure has been to simply—er, handle the problem as quickly as possible—” There’s a low snicker from somewhere in the back of the room. George ignores it. “But I believe it’s time we took a more proactive, analytical approach to this, ah, phenomenon.”

oOoOoOo

those magic changes (7829 words) by peachbellini Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “Yeah, right.” Oscar’s beer tastes stale in his mouth. “Sure there’s other perks though, right?” Logan’s attention has been taken by his phone. Probably a girl, Oscar thinks, or his Mom. Maybe there’s a particularly big fish being shared in the family group chat. He types out a message then locks it with purpose, chucking it face down on the table. “Yeah, I mean. You know what they say happens when you podium, right? The girl thing?”

MASTERPOST

landoscar fic recommendation

this wld be a full ao3 fic recos :D anw message me if u want your fic to be removed here thnx

that one from work can come over on monday night by higgsbosonblues 

tags: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Slow Burn, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Coming Out

mclaren 2023 season canon compliant ; i really really love the getting to know part even though you know each other all through out the years hahaha this fic gives me the "all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?" :DD this was such a fan read to me as a new landoscar shipper that time <33

purring in my lap ('cause he loves me) by nyoomfruits

tags: cat!oscar, as in he shapeshifts into a cat lmao, Crack Treated Seriously, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication

oscat !! OSCAT !! OSCAT !! lando's "Over me? When the fuck were you even under me?" he's so so so funny and oblivious lmao and them being each other's comfort after a bad race :(( this was so adorable

#814 | Communication? The Kardigans | Long Gone | 4:18 by Anonymous

tags: Social Media, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lando I Don't Drink Norris Can't Hold His Alcohol Smh, Layout Is Entirely Social Media, Getting Together

i love LOVE social media format aus!!! so soo refreshing and creative the use of spotify playlist was GOLD and idk if it's a reference of gen z's and their spotify playlist for every situation but but!!!! i get it!! the name changes in every convo hahahaha they r so chaotic but at the same time so landoscar

from the start by tiredwishes

tags: modern setting, fluff, love confessions, getting together

this had me hooked so easily??? like i was just scrolling through the landoscar tag then i refreshed the page boom there's a new fic posted :DD the awkwardness, the ODDS!!!!!! i love how it has the dynamics of canon!landoscar :>> of them having the same people around them then boom they collided and the ending was perfect aaaaaa <33

for keeps by ipleadbritney

tags: spy au, fluff, light...angst? happy ending

read this after death and other lies bcos i can't move on LMAO took me a while to digest and it was honestly so good!! the humor was fantastic I DID NOT EXPECT EVERYTHING ABT LANDO landoscar

no proof, not much (but you saw enough) by ipleadbritney

tags: magical realism, pre-relationship, qatar GP '23

LOL THIS WAS SO FUN TO READ ??? lando's dramatic ass and him comparing themselves to BROCEDES ++ i like that it's magical realism but at the same time canon hehe :DD "He spent the majority of his junior years chasing after Lando Norris, a dream blisteringly quick and blinding in its brilliance." this line reminds me of, "Loving you is synonymous to breathing" :)

Death and Other Lies by finifugue

tags: spies & secret agents, mature, angst, hurt, comfort, happy ending

i love LOVE the world-building & everything!! prolly in my top 3 landoscar fics <33 the lando-charles siblings relationship had me SOBBING ;-;; “The things that we have lost were wonderful when we had them, do you not think? And that means they are not properly gone. And even if they are gone forever, that means that I can spend more time being sad in here, with you. And that is nice in its own way. We have not had a reason to go here for a long time, and it is more cramped than it was, but it is still good.” :) the twists, the turns, everything !!!!!! my friends were probably annoyed at me because i talked abt this fic ALOT lol i usually don't like spy aus bcos i don't like actions that much lmao but this??? THIS IS A MASTERPIECE sorry i cannot put how much i love this fic into words hashjdhasdjhsa BUT YOU GUYS SHLD READ THIS!!!!

scenes from a social media admin by ipleadbritney tags: social media admin!lando, driver!oscar, social media au, getting together

ipleadbritney your existence in this fandom is EVERYTHING !!!! lando's list of things.... lando's list of things he finds hot :>> this fic made me smile the whole day, hehehe :))

sink your teeth into me by nyoomfruits tags: vampire!oscar, werewolf!lando, soulmates, racing drivers

LANDO was so fcking oblivious *face palms* the travel coffin was my fave part hehe ok oscar is so vampire coded dhsjadhajshdas “Lando’s own driver’s room is right across the hall, stocked with his own hoodies and sweatpants, but those don’t smell like lemon and home, so he wisely keeps quiet and accepts the ones Oscar gives him.” :)) :)) I LOVE THEM maxiel tolerating lando's dumb ass HWJHAJS SO ENTERTAINING

note: will be updated !!!!!

#like obvs

you know what really gets my goat?