“The royal property is safe for you, Prince Oscar, and welcomes you with open arms. But it’s dangerous to have an omega walking alone here.” Oscar thinks he’s hallucinating this whole conversation. “Don’t worry, Lando is one of our best swordsmen.”
Great, he has his own soldier, chosen by the king. Just great.
“I do understand your concerns,” he starts, remembering that he should always be careful with his speech voice. “It was not my choice to have you either.”
Lando nods, face turned down with shame. He sits far, two places away from Oscar—who pretends to read a love story. They don’t talk anymore.
Maybe it was then, in that moment where his mind felt hot, that it started. Despite everything, he didn’t notice the thing in his guts—and even if he did, he would’ve still ignored it.
Oscar finally turns to Andrea, brain buzzing and confused.
“You can’t let him die.”
There is no Your Majesty or a proper denomination. It’s from the darkest part of his soul that Oscar speaks; it’s the boiling desperation that smothers him slowly.
Oscar had never had sex as good as with Lando.
Unfortunately, he knows all too well that Lando doesn’t like him like that.
Or: a series of events in the first half of the 2025 season that lead to Lando putting Oscar in a cock cage
Or: The second half of the season made me so sick that I wrote a fanfiction about just the first half that is just Landoscar sucking each other off :)
hey, everyone! recently i received this fanfic as a gift from a friend and it’s so, so good! they don’t actively use tumblr so i asked permission to do this little “propaganda” for it since the word of gabriel/oliver should be spread. you can click here to read it or directly on the title! i promise it’s worth it.
Were Ollie and Gabi already friends before they joined F1? Their friendship lore seems underrated
this is actually a good question, i still have to do a beartoleto timeline but they firstly were not and then they solved themselves somehow. gabi mentioned the first time he “met” ollie was in iracing when ollie put him on the wall and they called each other names in the chat. after that they came to meet again in formula two, and gabi said he thought “oh, this guy is not that bad!” and then imola came to happen and they became the friends we know nowadays.
they do have lots of lore if you could call it like that, they always talk about each other, it really is underrated. :(
was looking forward to posting another clip of gabi talking about ollie in a recent podcast he went to (haven’t seen it posted here) but i’m using every little bit of my time to finish the last chapter of the high grounds so the beartoleto will have to wait
lawrance: and you’ve got one of your good mates, gabriel bortoleto, living in the same building as you so he’s your neighbor!
ollie: yeah, pretty much! we are like, a feel floors apart.
lawrance: you ever like, knocking on the door, “can i have a bit of milk?”
ollie: uh… i mean if he ask me, he’s not gonna find much in my fridge. no but uhm, it’s fun, it’s fun. and we are good friends as well, he’s probably my closest friend on the grid, not only for that but you know, we do get to spend a lot of time together.
(feed him candy) LANDO NORRIS/OSCAR PIASTRI | top lando, bottom oscar
Lando likes the way Oscar presses his face against the wall in front of him. Makes him look helpless in a twisted concept, like there’s nothing else to be done but make himself comfortable and take it.
Perhaps Lando is the one giving it much thought, though. Maybe it’s because the air is heavy—so much that the condensed drops of sweat on his face are running down non-stop—and the heat is unbearable. He’s pink all over his face. Oscar blushes easily. Lando could bet his chest is equally flushed, compressed by the fireproof material, and wet with what remains of champagne.
There’s some idiocy about them doing that in the McLaren facility, still in the paddock and having the team around them preparing to pack up. Oscar tends to be more careful about it and dismisses Lando’s ideas in a way that leaves an opening for imagination. Despite his attempts at prudishness, it was a matter of time before they did it somewhere inappropriate.
Lando doesn’t like the thought that they are in a rush, even though it’s essentially true. He didn’t waste much time preparing Oscar before spitting on his hole, watching his saliva running down his tight pinkish flesh.
He made Oscar suck his fingers till they were properly humid, then stroked himself, only enough to spread a bit of precum over his cock. Lando knows Oscar likes it raw, to feel it later. The want crawling his nails. He’s slow, still. Care or patience, both ending up in Lando sliding into Oscar, taking his time in doing so.
It's easier once the tip is in, so he can grab Oscar’s cheeks with both hands, spreading them and seeing his cock being swallowed in. The pressure makes Lando groan, being squeezed by Oscar’s insides as it tries to push him out, even though he’s been such a gentle intrusion.
Lando has to be rational, then. Hold onto his last bits of sanity and remember his own size before pushing everything in. It’s good. Too good. His fingers dig hard in Oscar’s soft flesh, and he feels bold enough to give him a light slap that seems to be more grounding than he’d like to express. Focus, quick, do it.
Oscar’s breath stutters when Lando tries moving, he looks up to find his teammate open-mouthed, eyes lost, and face flaming hot. Lando knows he’s a sick man by how much that view turns him on. He’s been horny for a while, not enough to make him do something about it—besides repeatedly wanking in his hotel room. But that creeps up on his brain in a manic way. He should get it checked, probably. The compulsion to keep Oscar open for him forever.
His knees move first, knocking on Oscar’s and pushing his legs further apart so he can accommodate his cock deeper. It pathetically works, drawing out a whine from Oscar, who tends to be less loud during sex. Lando wouldn’t know for sure, he might be a talker depending on the day. Although it encourages Lando to thrust, he still wants to make it last, even though he already feels something twisted in his guts.
It’s the thought of it, to be more objective about it. Because Oscar wants it fast so it’s done and they can leave the paddock, and the team won’t suspect they fucked in the facility. Lando wishes he could extend it till someone comes searching for them and hears Oscar’s ass slapping against his hips, till they are alone and he can bend Oscar over the table they use to discuss media activities and eat him out there.
Lando satisfies himself with ideas, though. He’ll fuck Oscar like that for the day because that’s all they got, and it has to be enough. A hidden quickie as if they are some kind of perverts who can’t keep their dicks untouched.
He fucks Oscar fast, like he would appreciate. Still holding him and watching his shaft disappearing inside Oscar, the foreskin barely wet with their spit by then. Lando feels it crude when he thrusts, his cock so sensitive that each move kills him little by little.
He lets his head fall on Oscar’s shoulder, burying his nose on his sweaty fireproof. Oscar’s body stiffs and then relaxes, his breath becoming more uneven. It’s not every day that Lando gets touchy, and doing that seems too intimate.
Lando is kind, just the right amount, reaching Oscar’s forgotten cock and stroking it for him.
“Fuck—fuck, fuck, I—“
Maybe it’s in fact the pressure that makes Oscar come, buckling his knees and almost losing his balance. He always falls for his mind instead of enjoying the facts. He’s attached to details, like how they should’ve changed clothes twenty minutes ago or how no one can see them leaving together. Lando didn’t care.
Oscar moves, arching his back in a perfect way for Lando to just pound on him better. He almost laughs. Such a good boy, doing anything for Lando, hole tightening only for him to fuck. Good.
“Gonna fill you up,” Lando mumbles against his shoulder. “You’re gonna walk out with my cum dripping out of yah.”
He means it, and Oscar knows. He shuddered, rhythm steadier, and pulled up a nice rock of bodies. Lando wonders—for a second—if they could do it again, on the floor if Oscar were tired of standing, and then again somewhere else, and he could fuck Oscar and watch him come over and over again.
But again, time is precious.
He fucks Oscar for some more minutes before coming, hearing an overwhelming faint whine when it happens. Lando didn’t ask if he was oversensitive, mainly because Oscar likes that too, but also because he feels insane looking up and seeing his face contorting with pleasure.
It’s not ideal, but he takes it off when it’s over, pulling Oscar’s underwear quickly, before he can mourn his seed escaping his hole. They will go out like that, smelling like sex, champagne, and sweat, and if Oscar behaves, Lando can even think about fucking him again in the hotel. If he sits and crosses his legs, feeling cum pooling under him while his body stings in weird places, then Lando can give him a reward.
