[norrisnymph]

going for the gap !!

lily. twenties. i love to write about my close personal friends oscar piastri and lando norris. longtime ao3 listener, first time caller. trying my hand at driver x driver, please be nice :~)

about me ☆ masterlist ☆ fic recs

this is a side blog ⸻ i follow back from @piastriprincess !!

[realpersonfacts]

being a male professional athlete is an ontological sin the weight of which can only be balanced by having the sports rpf bloggers do some truly heinous shit to you in the google docs

[clearlightwired]

[clearlightwired]

[clearlightwired]

[clearlightwired]

[clearlightwired]

[whattamanza]

bunny’s got claws

[shieldofiron]

Many people forget when writing bdsm that the dom also wants to get a good grade in dom. And is trying so hard and is often nervous about it.

[leftneb]

me when I go for a swim in the sea but the seaweed is out to Get me

[alecjbi]

men who just fucked after the sprint race

[norrisnymph]

experiencing a level one million cardiac event thinking about lando kimi oscar run up to turn 1……………………

[norrisnymph]

the infidelity snippet… delicious 😭😭😭hunger Not Sated

omg this made me smile i’m soooooo glad you enjoyed??? i (unfortunately) am so birthday hungover rn and have 3 finals due in the next 5 days but after that… i will write more just for u #trust !!!!

[prokrastinartiya]

HELLO MY BELOVED FAVORITE ARTIST!!! what if you drew oscar in these 👀 need more people on the bunnyosc agenda

hello!! maybe it's not what you expected but it is what it is.. got requested this tweet two times😅

[darkisms]

🔐 yes baby yes

nortrell / rated e / 6.3k words

On this one occasion, he’s more than willing to forgo all bragging rights he’s entitled to as winner if they just agree to set the bet aside. It’s stupid. He’s not the one who has to — do the thing. Submit to the forfeit. Lando’s the one who should be nervous. But he doesn’t even sound uncomfortable, his voice oozing with a quiet, rich confidence that’s only started to sound sincere since he won the championship last year.

Max, his stupid mouth, and a bet that ends up with Lando in lingerie.

[cosmicscuderia]

Lando after securing P1 for the sprint race in Miami via Sam Bloxham

[norrisnymph]

lilyyyyyyy i wish you would write current landoscar infidelity fic where they keep hooking up accidentally and get so annoyed with each other every time

ummmm elena this got soooooo away from me but anyway hope you like this 800 word snippet!! most of it below the cut :~)

send me a summary of the fic you wish i would write and maybe i will write a tidbit!

“Gotta be quick about it, haven’t we,” Oscar breathes against Lando’s mouth, hand slipping beneath his waistband fast and graceless. Lando laughs into the kiss, if you can even call it that, a breathy sound that zips down Oscar’s spine. His back arches off the floor of the driver’s room, hips canting against Oscar’s hand. “Media’s in, like, an hour, mate, think we’ve got time.” “Nah,” Oscar murmurs, lips trailing to the hinge of Lando’s jaw, tasting the faint hint of sweat covered by that stupid Polo cologne on his skin. “Lily’s coming. She texted, she’s — ah — she’s in the paddock already, she’ll be here in a bit.” Lando goes still beneath him. Not a flinch, not all at once: Oscar thinks he must be too practiced at hearing her name, now. The hand that was rucking up the hem of Oscar’s polo loosens by degrees, fingers unfurling one at a time, knuckles brushing harsh against his hip. “Right,” he says flatly. “So you’ve got a deadline.”

Oscar’s tongue feels too big for his mouth, suddenly, heat crawling up the back of his neck. “That’s not what I —”

“No, ‘s fine,” Lando mutters, face going hard as he pushes up on his elbows in a way that makes Oscar have to brace his hands flat against the carpet so he doesn’t topple over. It scratches against his palms, the itch flaring immediately beneath his skin. “Let’s be efficient about it. You want to set a timer, or —”

“Lando.”

“Fifteen minutes? Twenty?” Lando continues, like he didn’t hear, even though Oscar knows he did. His tongue pushes against the corner of his mouth, lips kiss-swollen — obscenely so, pink and spit-slick in a way that makes Oscar want to duck his head and bite them raw. “That enough of a cooldown period from you having your hand down my trousers so that you can hold hers after?”

“Stop it,” Oscar says, willing his voice not to crack around the words.  

“Why, Osc?” Lando’s chin juts, eyes going bright and glittering the way they do after a bad race, when the helmet comes off and everything he’s feeling is right there on the surface, too fast to mask. “Is this weird? Am I making it weird for you?”

Yes, Oscar thinks desperately. Yes, it’s weird, it’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, it’s so far outside of any idea I have of who I’m supposed to be that I don’t even feel like myself anymore when I’m with you, and I think I’ll probably die if we ever stop.

“You’re making it harder than it has to be,” he says instead, and watches it land wrong before it’s even all the way out of his mouth. Lando’s mouth opens, then closes, nostrils flaring just once. His whole expression seems to shutter, the visor snapping down and everything going carefully blank.

“You know what, fine,” he says finally, jaw ticking. “Get up, then.”

Oscar doesn’t move. “Lando —”

“I said get up,” he shoves at Oscar’s shoulder, hard enough to make Oscar lose his balance and topple onto the carpet next to him. “We’re done.”

Oscar stays where he landed, tucking his knees against his torso as he leans against the foot of the couch. Lando stands, turning his back and putting himself back together in the mirror. He watches with a sick sort of fascination: Lando, smoothing his shirt. Lando, tugging the waistband of his briefs back into place. Lando, dragging a hand through his curls until they fall the way they’re supposed to, artfully messy instead of the actual mess Oscar had them in two minutes ago, tangled around his fingers.

It’s the mouth that gets Oscar, really. Lando presses the back of his wrist to his mouth, hard, like he’s trying to scrub the taste of him off. Oscar drags himself to his feet, because what else is there to do, moving on legs that don’t feel like his own towards the door they’d locked behind them. 

“I should go,” he says, numbly.

Lando doesn’t turn around. “Yeah. Probably.”

Oscar’s hand is on the door handle when Lando’s fingers close around his wrist, grip tight enough that Oscar can feel the blunt edges of his nails pressing half-moons into the thin skin over his pulse. He pulls, sharp and wordless, and Oscar stumbles back a step, mouth already opening around something — a protest, an apology, he doesn’t even know — but Lando’s faster. Lando is always, always faster.

He spins Oscar by the wrist and crowds him back against the door, and the handle digs cold and hard into Oscar’s spine, and then Lando’s mouth is on his.

The kiss is nothing like the ones before it, lazy and half-laughing and charged with adrenaline. This one is a closed fist to his stomach. Lando kisses him like he’s trying to prove a point: hand cupping Oscar’s jaw and tilting his face exactly how he wants it, fingers tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck, teeth dragging against his bottom lip, tongue sliding hot and deliberate against his. The room tilts and then refocuses, narrowing to the single unescapable point of gravity of Lando’s mouth on his. 

When Lando finally pulls back, Oscar’s mouth is still hanging open. His hand is gripping the front of Lando’s shirt and he has no idea how it got there. He blinks, dazed and slow and stupid, and his breath comes out shaky and too loud on the exhale. Lando just watches him, eyes flickering triumphantly over the wrecked blankness that Oscar can feel all over his face. Then he grins.

“See ya later, Osc,” he says, breezy and so awful that Oscar can barely breathe around the sound of it. “Tell Lily I said hi, yeah?”

[17waterlillies]

[ryebreadgf]

oh he's your 'right hand man'? for what, jerking you off?

[flurofujo]

pls he’s so happy to tease oscar 🤭

[ladymarshmall0w]