Do Not Separate Them. Ever. The World Will Blow Up.

Hey, honey, I need your help. I want to write a dirty story about Pedri but I don't know with whom because I don't watch soccer. Pedri is an exception in soccer for me. Can you please suggest some soccer players? If possible, they should be on the same team.

First of all, thank you for wanting to write a dirty story about Pedri. It’s very much appreciated. 🥹❤️

Secondly, I actually ship Pedri with many soccer players (who also happen to play for the same team):

My ABSOLUTE favourite ships are Pedri/Ferran Torres and Pedri/Eric Garcia.❣️❣️

Pedri and Ferran are massively sending out best friends to lovers trope vibes with Pedri being Ferran’s soft spot. 🥺

Pedri and Eric are resembling the best friends with benefits trope, there is always sexual tension between them. 🥵

Unfortunately, these ships are not very popular on either ao3 or tumblr. But this is an even better reason to write a fic about them if you ask me. 😉🥰

The most popular ship is Pedri/Gavi. Tbh, I don’t know how to describe it. 😭 I’m not that deep into this ship. Just let the following gif speak to you. Gavi is very possessive of Pedri, while Pedri is anchoring Gavi and is the remedy to his restlessness.

If you are into age gap and daddy vibes, I would also recommend the Pedri/Lewandowski ship. They are really underrated in my opinion.

Another underapprciated but very hot ship is Pedri/Ter Stegen. Their height difference is delicious. 😋 Pedri is a little bunny next to the goalkeeper. 🥺🐰 And the mental image of Pedri’s tiny pretty hands entwined with Ter Stegen‘s enormous ones is so 😵‍💫🥺🤏🏻

What is also mentionable is the Pedri/Ansu Fati ship. Ansu‘s behaviour can be interpreted as being hopelessly in love with Pedri from afar, while Pedri is oblivious to his feelings and the signals Ansu is sending out. However, Ansu‘s love for Pedri is not necessarily unrequited - Pedri simply needs to open his eyes and realise what’s right in front of him.

Last but not least, I would also like to introduce you to the Pedri/Unai Simon ship. Although they aren’t club teammates, they do play for the same national team. And people are sleeping on them because they are so damn cute together. 🥹 Unai Simon adores Pedri so much, has adored him from the first moment he laid eyes on him in the national team. He is also a goalkeeper. 😏🤭 AND extremely protective of Pedri, that little boy is Unai‘s beautiful and precious little butterfly.

I hope I was able to give you some interesting ideas and attractive ship suggestions. If you really want my final verdict, I would always choose Pedri/Ferran over anything else. 7️⃣8️⃣♾❤️ But feel free to get inspired yourself by the examples above. I’m looking forward to your story and wish you good luck, love! 🍀🫶🏻

F1 FANFICS - REC LISTS - MASTERPOST

- Winter/Holidays

- AU but one of them is still a drive

- Alpha/Beta/Omega part I

- Kid Fic (no Mpreg)

- Landoscar AU's

- Loscar part I

- Loscar part II

- George Russell (non Galex)

- Highschool / Uni AU's part I

- Highschool / Uni AU's part II

- Magical Realism

Incoming...

Alpha/Beta/Omega part II

Canon Landoscar

Daniel/Lando

Mpreg

Social Media

"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 😭

may i pretty please request some more somno? “your protector” knocked me flat on my back 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

filling alongside another anon prompt for landoscar cnc :)

somno + lando with a pussy (for reasons including but not limited to: i could not stop thinking about lando norris’s g-spot)

prompt 3/?

You wouldn’t know what they were planning on doing, if you were a fly on the wall. The day goes the same as most of their Woking trips: sim sessions, media duties, chatting with the factory staff.

Lando has a meeting with Zak and picks up a few more hickeys while Oscar meets with Andrea – an hour of body worship in low, soft Italian as Andrea pulls him apart with his tongue.

So Lando and Oscar are both pleased and loose when they meet back at their rental flat for dinner. They share a meal over the type of easy conversation they’ve earned from being teammates for so long. It’s domestic – routine, even.

But then night falls.

As Lando’s washing his face before bed, he catches Oscar’s eye in the mirror. He’s wearing one of Oscar’s faded boarding school t-shirts, long enough to graze the tops of his thick thighs. “Was thinking, Osc. Could you do it tonight, then?”

Oscar’s hand pauses on his toothbrush, but he resumes a scant moment later as though his head’s not instantly flooded with memories. A dark room, Lando’s sleepy huffs of breath. Unloading inside him with four more hours left to sleep.

“Yeah?” he asks, rinsing his mouth under the tap.

“Mm-hmm,” Lando returns, calm and happy. He swipes on some lip balm and turns to go back to bed with a cheeky smile. Oscar just watches the sway of his hips in the mirror, grinning like an idiot.

They dick around on their phones for a while before turning in for the night – Oscar reading motorsport.com articles, Lando playing online poker like he’s forgotten money has real-world value – and then Lando yawns and settles into Oscar’s side with a sleepy, “Love you.”

Oscar makes himself wait, then.

Two hours, until the ancient alarm clock on the nightstand is flashing single digits. Beside him, Lando is curled in on himself, his back to Oscar. One knee is drawn up, and he’s breathing deeply, chest rising and falling rhythmically. The bathroom light is still on across the room, and Lando’s silhouetted in a warm wash of light.

The duvet is tangled around his waist, but the waistband of his Calvin Kleins is just visible where his t-shirt has rucked up above the curve of his ass. In one slow motion, Oscar reaches out and slides Lando’s panties down, his mouth watering when he sees the cotton stretch over Lando’s tan skin.

His panties are damp – a sizable wet spot catches the low light. In his sleep, Lando makes no reaction. Naughty thing. Must’ve had a nice little dream about what Oscar was going to do to him tonight.

Oscar drops a kiss to his shoulder and then drags the panties down to Lando’s knees. He doesn’t remove them all the way – it’s hotter somehow, like Oscar might need to make him decent again with a moment’s notice.

They’ve got a mirror on the wall back home so that Oscar can watch himself do this bit – but here, it’s left to his vivid imagination. He takes in a deep breath and releases it very, very slowly as he lets the fat head of his cock slip between the swollen lips of Lando’s pussy. It’s an easy slide – Lando’s soaked tonight, his body blindly responding to Oscar’s touch, even though it could be anyone’s fingers, anyone’s cock. It could be Leclerc, or Danny Ric, or…hell, even Mark fucking Webber. Lando would have no way of knowing, wouldn’t he?

The pink, weeping tip of Oscar’s cock pushes through to the other side, appearing just beneath the hard knob of Lando’s clit. As gently as he can manage, and anchoring one palm on Lando’s hip to keep the bedframe from shaking, Oscar builds to a steady pace, fucking him and yet not fucking him. He rocks his hips, cock pushing between Lando’s pussy lips with a sinful squelch. His cock pulses as he pauses to catch his breath, and Lando makes a soft moan, curls shifting on the pillow.

Oscar stays very still and watches his face, making sure he stays asleep. Nothing passes across Lando’s slack face. Satisfied that he’s under enough, Oscar carefully twines their fingers together and resumes.

He’s not actually penetrating Lando, but it feels – insanely – like he’s buried deep within him. Oscar gets off on that, too – the idea that he’s just shamelessly rutting against Lando’s sloppy cunt like a teenager trying to keep an abstinence pledge, trying to make it to marriage without just sticking it in.

He pulls out halfway to give himself better access to Lando’s hole. He tucks one tapered finger inside Lando’s body, fingerpad curling against the place where he’s spongy, where he gives a little extra beneath Oscar’s touch. Lando doesn’t notice, just continues his deep, heavy breaths. In, out. Oscar rubs inside him in tiny, maddening circles, biting his cheek to keep from moaning at the drip of wetness that’s steadily working its way down his wrist. Lando is soft and pulsing inside – heaped to the brim, taut. Filled.

Oscar presses harder against Lando’s G-spot, curling his fingers right up against Lando’s pelvic bone. Fast, short strokes – the way he’d touch himself if he had a pussy, too.

Lando makes a tiny, hurt sound, and then, without warning, he’s soaking his thighs, Oscar’s cock, the sheets. His thighs slip apart as he does it, the waistband of his panties stretching around his knees. He squirts in his sleep like something out of a porno. The sound of it is electric in the silent room. The trickle of come on the hardwood nearly makes Oscar’s eyes roll back.

Oscar wishes, madly, that he could be a thousand places at once: here, and down between his thighs with his lips sealed around his clit, getting come all over his face, and suckling at his sweet little tits, and lifting Lando’s thigh to fuck his other hole, too. To make him feel good everywhere.

Lando just hums and readjusts in the sheets, oblivious to the mess he’s just made. His eyelashes flutter a bit, but his eyes stay shut. A soft huff of breath, like Oscar’s just covered him with his favorite blanket. He looks peaceful, serene. As though he hasn’t just drenched the mattress.

“Ah—jeez—” Oscar grits out, unable to keep quiet any longer. His cock’s dripping with Lando’s come, shiny and slick like he’s just pissed inside him or something. And fuck, that image – it’s all he can do to pull out and shove his cock against the gusset of Lando’s panties before he’s coming, spunk pooling on the cotton and turning it sodden and see-through. He breathes hard against Lando’s shoulder blade, forcing himself to stay as quiet as he can.

When his orgasm has worked its way through him, he swallows dryly a few times before tucking his cock back into his sweats and then, very carefully, pulling Lando’s panties back up. His own come squishes out the sides, mingling with Lando’s soaked pubes – and Oscar’s cock jerks painfully at the sight. Lando makes a small noise, the way he does when Oscar slips him a little tongue when they’re making out.

Pushing his luck, probably, but Oscar reaches one hand around to press the hot, wet cotton against the seam of Lando’s cunt, gently massaging his come into his pussy through the fabric. Getting his come in every fold, every hidden valley of Lando’s body. Making him thoroughly, completely his.

Lando squirms happily back against Oscar’s chest – Oscar’s touch must feel good.

“That’s it,” Oscar whispers, daring to push his fabric-covered thumb up inside, shallowly fucking Lando with his own soaked panties. “Good, baby. Good, that’s it.”

His pussy’s tight around him, like it’s sucking at Oscar’s fingers, wanting more, wanting him deeper. Oscar is powerless to resist the call of his body: he fits his fingertip against the firm outline of Lando’s clit and massages it, using his own come as lube.

Lando’s whole body goes tense. His brow creases, and he whines in the back of his throat as he trembles through another orgasm – only this one, he wakes up to. He blinks his wide, wet eyes open and gazes up at Oscar even as he’s shuddering through it, his glossy lips parted in wonder. He’s confused for a fraction of a second, and then he’s moaning – a broken string of “yes” and “fuck” that make Oscar throb inside.

Lando’s eyes droop as he works through the aftershocks, and by the time he turns his face into Oscar’s chest, he’s already fast asleep. Oscar noses up the side of his neck and buries his face in his curls, holding him close. He’ll let him doze for a minute, and then when the sheets get tacky and cold, he’ll carry him to the ensuite and give him a bath by candlelight.

He presses his lips to Lando’s temple, and Lando instinctually brings his palm up to hang onto Oscar’s t-shirt – wanting to go with him.

what did Carlos report to Charles' gf...?

gewis a/b/o verse, set in 2021

1.8k words, some angst and some love confessions

It’s been an exhausting day. Physically, emotionally — you name it. His first points in F1; real points, that is. Points for Williams. But others haven’t had such a great race.

Although he’s not a Mercedes driver, he’s still part of their pack and is still welcome in the packroom from time to time. He can’t overdo it, otherwise some of the other teams might complain, so he really only goes over on special occasions.

Today would be one of them. Not because of his points, but due to Valtteri’s screw-up that led to so many DNFs. He knows the alpha needs his pack now, and he’s been trying to get on his good side again ever since Imola, so it’s a no-brainer that he’s coming over.

He snuggles up beside him as soon as he reaches the packroom, getting comfortable inside the pile of bodies in the shared nest.

He’s about to drift off when a new scent approaches the room. Lewis comes in, stops in the doorway just as he spots George in the middle of everyone, and swiftly turns around to leave again.

Valtteri can smell George's scent turning sour at what just happened and he tries to save the situation, “Don’t take it personally, he’s just—“

“He doesn’t like me, I know.” The and I’m surprised you still do goes unsaid.

“What?” Another voice joins in — Shov. Others are probably listening in as well.

“He doesn’t like me, I already know that. I can tell, I’m not stupid.”

“What makes you think that?” Valtteri prompts him.

“He never spends more than 2 seconds in the same room as me, either he leaves just as I come in or only comes in after I leave. He can’t get away from me soon enough whenever we have a conversation, always replies with curt sentences. I don’t know what I’ve done but— I’m used to it by now.” He tries to hide his sniffle, but the way his usually sweet lavender iced tea scent turns acidic tells everyone how he really feels about it.

When someone else is about to retort, George speaks again, “It’s fine, honestly. You don’t have to try to make me feel better about it, I’m already dealing with it on my own.”

He curls up on himself and buries his head into Valtteri’s neck, completely missing the worried looks and shocked expressions of the rest of the pack.

—

“Lewis!”

He’s on his way back to his motorhome, done with debrief and everything else racing-related for the day, ready to begin his summer break. He turns around and waits for Valtteri to catch up to him.

“What’s up, man?”

“George.”

He tenses a little at the mention of the omega’s name but schools his expression into a neutral one soon after, levelling Valtteri with a What about him? stare.

“You have to do something, either address it or get over it, but you gotta stop avoiding him.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your—“

“He thinks you dislike him.”

And, oh, he didn’t expect to hear that today. Or, ever. He wordlessly gestures for the other alpha to continue.

“He told us earlier, he thinks you don’t like him. And before you make something up, I know that’s not the case,” Valtteri tells him sternly, giving him no room to use his usual excuses.

He should’ve known the Finn can see right through him.

“So, you better fix this. He’s part of the pack,” he says with a pleading look, displaying how different they are, even though they are both alphas. Lewis cares about the pack, of course he does — but he’s been so used to carrying on as a lone wolf, sometimes he still under-appreciates its importance.

“And he will be your teammate next year. You will have to spend time with him, whether you like it or not, or—“ Valtteri pauses and corrects himself just as he can see Lewis trying to jump in again, “whether you’re ready or not.”

The next few moments are filled with silence, Lewis mulling over the new revelations. He knew he couldn’t avoid the younger omega forever, but he thought he might have more time to figure things out.

“Fuck. I’ve messed up big time, haven’t I?”

“He says he’s been dealing with it. I don’t know what that means but… sounds like he’s been aware of it for quite some time.”

“I will fix this, I promise,” Lewis tries to make his sincerity shine through his eyes.

For everyone’s sake, but mainly George’s, the other alpha hopes that he still can.

—

When George opens the door to his hotel room later that day, there’s a bouquet of flowers waiting for him. And a box of chocolates along with a teddy bear, all nestled in comfortable-looking blankets.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think someone is trying to court him.

I’m sorry. Can we talk tonight? — Lewis xx reads the attached card. Oh, so someone blabbed to him and now he’s trying to play nice. Or has he been forced to, by the team?

George will hear him out but he doesn’t need fake sympathies. He can handle someone disliking him, even if that someone happens to be a person he’s admired since he was a little boy.

He can’t pretend he wouldn’t like to hear Lewis’ reasoning though. Maybe if he gets some constructive feedback he can work on whatever it is that makes him so unlikeable.

He makes his way to the Mercedes floor a little while later, wanting to get this over and done with as quickly as he can. He has a Williams party to go to, later.

When he makes it to Lewis’ room, it takes him a few minutes to respond. George has half the mind to turn around and forget about this when the door finally opens.

“George!”

He's shirtless, dressed only in sweatpants with his hair still dripping on the floor. Clearly, he just hopped out of the shower. George lets himself stare for exactly 3 seconds before averting his gaze.

The lovely smell of rich wood mixed with vanilla soon hits his nostrils and his eyes immediately find Lewis’ neck. He hasn’t reapplied his suppressant patch yet, that would explain it. George just hopes his body’s reaction to it isn’t noticeable.

“Did you get my gift?” he asks while letting him in. There’s a glint of something in his eyes. Probably of surprise, he likely didn’t expect me to turn up so soon, George muses.

He takes his time toeing his shoes off.

“I did, yes,” he says, and then continues when Lewis doesn’t add anything on his own, “What was that for?”

“I, erm, wanted to talk to you.” George just raises his eyebrows at him in a Yes, I got that. “And apologise,” he finishes.

“Listen, if this is about what I said in the packroom earlier—“

“It’s not. Well, it is, kinda. But not only that.”

George sighs and moves to sit on the sofa after Lewis motions for him to do so, disappearing to get a t-shirt for himself before coming back and offering him a drink.

He sips on his water as he waits for him to start talking.

“I’m sorry. For avoiding you. I didn’t— I didn’t think it was so apparent, to be frank. And I realise I acted like a total douchebag, so, really, I am so sorry, George. You didn’t deserve that, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

George sits with these words for a while, he’s wanted answers for so long to only get this — that he didn't do anything wrong. What a load of crap. “Then why did you?”

The pained sound of his voice coupled with the burning taste of tea in the air break Lewis’ heart just that bit more. He never wants to smell this again, especially with the knowledge he’s to blame for it. He wants the happy scent of lavender and citrus and brewing tea to surround him again.

“I just— needed to keep my distance,” he confesses. There is no reason to hide what this is anymore.

“But why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Whenever we would see each other, after the race or in the factory after you’ve done laps in the sim, or later in the gym, you were always sweaty and—“ gee thanks, Lewis, good to know, “without patches and you smelled so delicious.” Wait, what? “It’s like your scent was luring me in. I could hardly keep myself in check.”

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me if that made you uncomfortable? I could’ve worn—“

“No, George, it didn’t make me uncomfortable. Not like that, at least. A different kind of uncomfortable, maybe.”

George looks up into his eyes to see they’re a few shades darker than the last time he remembers looking.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I’ve been feeling like this for years and I— I was just trying to keep my distance. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable and, honestly, I felt repulsed by myself. You are so much younger than me—“

“I’m 23, I’m a grown adult,” George chimes in. He’s so sick of being babied by the people around him.

“But you haven’t always been one. I met you when you were 18, really got to know you as our reserve when you were 20.”

“But back then— wait, back then?” George looks at him disbelievingly.

“Yes, even back then. As I said, I felt terrible about it. I knew what everyone would say, that I’m a cradle snatcher. And I knew what you deserved — a chance to make it in F1 without anyone insinuating I had anything to do with it.”

Lewis’ eyes have turned incredibly soft since they’ve started this talk, unlike any other time George has been witness to. He moves from the other side of the sofa to kneel right by him.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. Please trust me when I say keeping away from you has been so. freaking. hard. But it was the only way I knew how to deal with the situation.”

George still isn’t entirely sure he believes him, isn’t sure his mind isn’t just playing tricks on him, or that it isn’t just the team forcing Lewis to come up with all this to retain a favourable relationship between the two soon-to-be-teammates.

His doubt must show on his face as Lewis continues his speech, “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. I understand now that the way I’ve gone about things was stupid.”

He shuffles even closer to him, their faces separated only by a few centimetres.

“Will you let me try?”

It will take more than one sweet-talk, but as Lewis’ lips connect with his own, he can feel a weight lifting off his shoulders and a seed of hope begins to grow in his heart.

landoscar (my love)

anything you ask i do (for you) (@fear8not1)

fake dating landoscar save me. save me fake dating landoscar.

Casual (@loquarocoeur)

THE landoscar roommates AU. i have read it an embarrassing amount of times and i'll fucking do it again.

except you (you can stay) (@fear8not1)

favorite favorite favorite comfort fic cannot even COUNT the number of times i have read this. safe, comforting lando my beloved

Impasse of Biting (@wanderingblindly)

i have never met a vampire fic i do not love. and this one is exquisite.

Pillow Duty (@loquarocoeur)

precious precious precious i adore sleepy lando

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

oscat my beloved

Questionably Homo Guidebooks Series (@wanderingblindly)

fake ? dating ? ig ? superb. tingly.

space debris (our memories)

astronaut ! lando ! engineer ! oscar ! this fic is soooo celestial. floaty, ephemeral... yeah. love her work.

You Bring Me Closer to God (@wanderingblindly)

singer lando. the Way He Is in this is so correct.

you spin me right round, baby

time loop ! i will never forget this fic. it is flawless. i want 100 spinoffs and that still wouldn't be enough. every detail is so chef's kiss.

oh why is this so cute?💕

Why aren't you running?

I have a little Oscar game for you...