oi! tĂĄ bem?đ my name is jester (she/her) and i'm a brazilian fanfic writer. you might know me as jesterlavorrre and litttlesapphire on ao3. if you're wondering wether i changed my blog's layout for the world cup and my brazilian athletes, the answer is yes i did (help).
i'm a huge oscar piastri and jannik sinner fan, and i root for them on track/court, but i have a few other favorite drivers and players from both the wta and atp tours. i tend to ignore those i don't care about, so no anti posts here.
here are some useful links:
my fics + ficlets + drabbles
jester's works in procrastination (wips)
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fic recs + jesterâs fic rec lists
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my askbox and dms are always open, and i'm a huge yapper, but only for those who are +18. minors do not interact, please! đ
important: do not share my fics outside of rpf spaces. everything is fictional and english is not my first language. remember to be kind.
oscar piastri/james vowles & oscar piastri/mark webber
7.2k words, rated m
post-silverstone 2026; oscar & alex bodyswap
blurb:
"Mate, look. Lily and I have already got our flight booked to Monaco for tomorrow morning. Can you wait 'til then to fix it?"
Carefully, Oscar says, "I could."
"Right. Good." There's a pause on the other end of the line. "The thing is, I have a meeting today, and I really can't be missed."
iâm about to get a bit drunk with my friends and the last time i ate something was *check notes* 8 hours ago. iâll either do something dumb or write smut and both options are amazing
đ§đȘ 17.07.2026 | F1 Grand Prix of Belgium: Practice 1
Stavelot, Belgique. 17th July, 2026. PIASTRI Oscar (aus), McLaren F1 Team MCL40, portrait during the Formula 1 Belgian Grand Prix 2026, 10th round of the 2026 Formula One World Championship from July 17 to 19, 2026 on the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, in Stavelot, Belgium - Photo Eric Alonso/DPPI Credit: DPPI Media/Alamy Live News
Only if you have time whenever and want to ofc, princessâ€ïž
curse of sexual frustration/canât come + fuck or die for the magical hijinks prompt listđ
you will find: post-silvo25, fuck or die but like⊠not die die (it just hurts), (half-assed) blowjobs, crying during sex, lando being the one getting off on oscar being cursed this time (a part two/payback for this)Â
âSânot fair, Lando, sânotââ Oscar hiccups uncharacteristically loudly before it dissolves into a cough, making his whole body shudder, almost like heâs convulsing. Lando would feel badâhe does feel bad, donât get him wrongâbut⊠well. âSânot the same, Lando, itââ And he gasps again, shivering under the maddeningly slow and shallow pace of Landoâs tongue and just sobs, really.Â
Lando has to admit that itâs undeniably hot to see this boy, this man, with broad shoulders and thick legs draped over his shoulders, writhing and begging on yet another hotel bed, tears trickling down his cheeks. Really, the older driver does feel a little sorry for the situation, especially after how the race turned out for Oscar, but excuse him for enjoying seeing his boyfriend like this. Â
Tit for tat, Lando thinks, and presses his lips to the underside of Oscarâs tip just to hear him gasp.Â
The historic circuits are weird like thatâMonaco, Silverstone, Spa, Monza⊠They all come with a cost, one Lando had to pay weeks ago, and now itâs Oscarâs turn. It hurts, Lando knows, Oscar knows, but thatâs all it is: desire and pain mixing together, the need to come that never truly goes away because he simply canât. Oscar canât come unless Lando fucks him. Howâs that for payback, eh?Â
His thoughts are interrupted by a little cryâa very devastating oneâas Oscar thrusts his hips up, searching for something more than kitten licks against his tip. Lando smiles, the hint of a smirk curling at his lips, and kisses the head of his weeping cock again.Â
âNo, Lando, sânotââ Oscar bucks again, his cock leaking mercilessly onto Landoâs tongue, who flattens it to let the precome pool there. When Lando looks up, Oscar is already staring down at him: his face flushed, eyes glossy, drool gathered at the corner of his mouth, damp hair plastered to his forehead in a messy fringe. He looks so hot, so thoroughly wrecked, that Lando canât help but slide a hand down to palm himself.Â
In response to Oscarâs mumbled words, Lando chuckles, letting the vibration of his laugh vibrate against the sensitive skin. âWhat? Yaâ not enjoying it, Osc?â He licks at the glans again, letting the tip of his tongue sink gently into the slit. He pulls away to add, âBut you like my mouth so much.âÂ
Oscar looks fuckinâ pained. He reaches for his cock, still practically untouched, but Lando swats his touch away with the same hand heâd been keeping firmly on Oscarâs thigh, while the other continues kneading at his ownâinsanelyâhard cock, trying to work some of the tension away.Â
âYouâyouâre notââ Poor thing canât even keep up with his own thoughts, Lando thinks fondly, as he slips his hand farther into his trousers to give himself some proper pumps. Meanwhile, he drags the tip of his tongue slowly up and down Oscarâs frenulum, the way he would to a clit. Oscar mewls. âThis is notâsânot a blowie, Lando, âmââÂ
The thing is that Lando knows. He knows that for a fact, even, because he hasnât actually sucked Oscar off yet, and probably wonât until Oscar starts properly begging for it, going pliant and desperate in that delicious way he always does. The keening is nice, though, and Lando speeds up his own strokes, fisting his shaft and idly smearing the precome around his own tip.Â
It must hurt like hell, Lando thinks, because Oscar starts squirming both away from and towards his mouth, clutching at the sheets, his knuckles whitening with the effort.Â
âIf you ask really nicelyâŠâ Lando pecks at the slit again, laps up the clear bead gathering there, and licks it clean before smirking against the sensitive tip. âI might let you come before Andrea calls us to leave theâah, ahâhotel.â And his whole body suddenly goes taut, his toes curling involuntarily, his hand fisting himself faster and harder despite the annoying layer of fabric constricting his movements.
Funnily enough, thatâs how Lando comes, shuddering as he grips himself tighter, painting the inside of his boxers while thinking about how easily he can control itâOscarâs orgasm. Itâs easy, earth-shatteringly hot, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut as his free hand tightens around Oscarâs thick thigh, which jumps beneath his palm.Â
Distantly, he can hear Oscar sobbing and sniffling, leaking uselessly from the lack of stimulation. The older driver feels dizzy, so turned on he might actually faint.
And yet, Lando still finds the strength to repeat in a delirious whisper, nuzzling against the swollen, slick head of Oscarâs cock, âI might let you come, Osc.â
