Athena’s Asks

I write F1 and F2 RPF. Please send me any driver pairings or driver and a prompt or request and I’ll write a blurb!! Feel free to add an emoji to your request so I can identify my favorite anons <3

Kink prompts to request

If you’d like to be tagged for any pairings or genres please dm me.

Smut, fluff, A/B/O, AUs, and angst all good! Any prompts are welcome :)

My favorite drivers are Oscar, max verstappen, Logan Sargent, Franco, Carlos, Arvid, Nico Rosberg, and Sebastian vettel!

My favorite ships are landoscar, loscar, CarCar, lestappen, Brocedes, and Martian.

Ex Rivals Friends w/Benefits, Hanahaki Part 2

Oscar isn’t sure when he started to notice something was wrong. He knew he and Carlos were never really friends in the traditional sense, not like both of them had become with Lando at different points. There was too much hatred at first and then too much sex for Oscar to ever put Carlos under that designation alone.

Friends or not, Oscar was sure something was wrong. Carlos was MIA more often than not. He was always needed elsewhere whenever Oscar reached out for a chat or a fuck. At first Oscar was frustrated sexually more than anything. Two races into the new season and still radio silence from Carlos and he’s just concerned. And maybe lonely too.

It makes sense, in a way. Carlos is finally having a few bright spots with Williams, maybe a podium in the near future. Oscar and Lando had kind of fallen together, getting closer. It felt like maybe Lando felt more than neutral towards him, saw him for his summer workout routine instead of his rookie headshots.

Oscar decides that it’s fine, taking up too much of his mental bandwidth. If Carlos wants distance, Oscar will give it.

Lando asks Oscar if he wants to have dinner at his place with a shy smile the next day. Oscar exits out of his now non existent messages with Carlos and agrees.

All he can think is that is throat is drier than it ought to be.

•••

Oscar thought dinner went well. They each had a few glasses of wine, broke their carb limits for the week on Italian they ordered in. It was easy to be with Lando, they complimented each other well and once Oscar had stopped focusing all his energy on his parasocial crush they fell into a natural rhythm of banter and smiles.

Lando, apparently, thought dinner had gone really well because he shoved his tongue down Oscar’s throat as soon as the wine was empty.

Which, Oscar’s not complaining, it’s decent for a first kiss and Lando moves like he can’t decide where to put his hands, but yeah, decent.

And then suddenly they’re in Landos bedroom with his childhood crush of all time, Lando freaking Norris, eye level with his cock, and Oscar realizes he cannot do this.

His heart isn’t in it, despite the heavy grinding from Lando and the extended makeout on the couch he’s barely half hard. He thinks about putting his hands in Landos hair as he sucks Oscar off and suddenly he feels like he’s about to start hyperventilating.

He starts thinking of how to explain these revelations to Lando in a way that doesn’t sound like he’s allergic to blowjobs when the scream of his ringer cuts through the sound of Lando fumbling with his belt.

It’s Carlos. Oscar picks up on the first ring without thinking, Lando still in his knees between Oscar’s thighs.

All Oscar hears on the other end is vague choking sounds as his heart plummets through his knee caps and for the first time possibly ever he puts everything together and realizes how massively he’s fucked up.

•••

He leaves Lando with a massive apology and a glass of water. Lando just stares at him.

“So this isn’t going to work out, then?” Lando doesn’t sound offended, more like he just needs to hear it to be sure, like listening to the weather forecast with the windows open.

“No, I don’t think it is.”

“Didn’t really think so. Go get him, mate.”

•••

When Oscar finds Carlos he’s on the bathroom floor surrounded by blush pink petals and phlegm.

Like some kind of 80s romcom lead Oscar slides to his knees and holds Carlos, dipping his head over so slightly, a prince rushing in to save his beloved.

Carlos jerks away violently and continues hacking. Oscar understands more than he wants to in that moment. The way Carlos responds to praise. McLaren, Ferrari, Williams.

The weight of the world beating down on Carlos as Oscar watched someone else.

“Please, you don’t have to let me help you. Just please help me because if you die and it’s my fault I couldn’t live with myself. Carlos, please. I need you.” It comes out rushed and snotty with tears and more earnest than anything Oscar has ever said.

When their lips lock Oscar doesn’t feel the weight in his chest lift until he hears Carlos suck in a hulking breath.

Even after they leave the bathroom floor to hold each other until they fall asleep, Oscar has a hand over Carlos’ heart like he needs reassurance it’s still beating.

It’s not that Lando isn’t handling the potential Red Bull news well, it’s just that he, well, isn’t handling it.

Oscar has done everything to reassure Lando that he’s not interested in moving to Red Bull, hell, he could do for one contract renegotiation without the extra drama.

Oscar has scented hoodies, extended snuggle time, bought out Cartier, and sucked Lando dry for weeks. His Omega should be content, peaceful, purring in his lap like always, but nothing. Even when he reassures Lando for the thousandth time, offers up texts, emails, call log, there’s always a thin tension to his muscles, a lack of strength to his sugary citrus scent like he’s making himself smaller.

Oscar doesn’t smell as much like Lando as a result. He hates it. Lando hates it. They’re both a little out of whack.

Even though their relationship is technically still new, well, newly established post Landos championship. Rookie alpha Oscar was cute, but really put himself on Landos radar in 2024 when his biceps were as interesting as the kinder he was keeping in his pockets. And then 2025 happened and those biceps were hate fucking Lando into every mattress or wall or carpet they had ten minutes alone with.

But then Lando won the championship and Oscar was still there. And now they’re here. Together. Still with the kinder and the biceps and the feral sex but now with more scenting and hugs and lingering kisses that leave Lando floating on a chocolate cloud.

2026 has been awesome so far. Not the car, god no, but less pressure to prove himself and more Oscar. Awesome, indeed.

And now there’s this bullshit. He wins a championship and talks about nothing but how he and Osc are going to be joined at the hip - among other things - forever until his alpha his old and adorably gray, and now they want to take his Oscar from him? No respect for Oscar’s elders, really.

And logically Lando knows that Oscar is staying, he stayed through every race, through Abu Dhabi, through Lando shaking apart in his lap and sobbing into his scent gland during sex because Oscar smells like fucking kinder and Lando realized it when it wasn’t on his sheets anymore after break. Oscar is staying. Lando knows that, he really does.

But the rumors are relentless. And Lando gets papped running out of a restaurant with an influencer like he’s back in his slut days.

God forbid he knows other omegas who happen to have an interest in funding an omega led karting team, even if it is just for clout. Lando is genuinely passionate about omegas in Motorsport. He became passionate about becoming an owner and team operator about it when he realized he and Oscar both raced for Ricky Flynn Motorsport which was looking for new investors. It would be good for their brand at McLaren, make them more inseparable in the eyes of sponsors. If it also made Oscar watch him bend over tint karts while surrounded by tons of pups so be it, he already has a world championship. Maybe something to have their pups do one day.

Lando is sulky about the media implications and extra PR duty.

He is livid at the Vanity fair photoshoot coming out while serving those extra pr duties.

First they threaten to separate him from his alpha and now they do it when he looks so damn edible? Screw this. No more crawling into Oscar’s lap for reassurance, he’ll find his own way to get a foolproof guarantee on his alpha.

•••

Oscar returns home unsuspecting to Lando already in bed.

On all fours.

Head in the pillow. Neck bared. Back arched. Hole leaking. Oscar’s new merch line, a jersey in Aussie green and gold draping an 81 across Landos back with piastri just over the numbers.

Lando does not have to worry about Oscar going to Red Bull. Oscar is literally tied to him for the foreseeable future.

Everyone is aware of it in that way you’re aware of something in your peripheral vision. It’s not a main focus, it’s kind of just…there.

Lando’s fine with that. His F1 contract has no stipulations turning him into a Boy Scout, in fact many of his sponsors would much prefer the opposite.

It’s an open secret, just more fodder for the paddock rumor mill when he’s seen leaving a party with a new girl (any girl) or on his knees outside the motorhomes for anyone in a team polo (any team) or walked in on getting fucked in his drivers room by a VIP guest (he’s just hospitable like that).

Lando Norris is a bit of a slut. He likes it, he’s cheeky about it, people love him for it, it’s great.

His teammates have also loved it. Danny liked pushing his face into a pillow and just pounding away from behind, holding Landos hands behind his back. Carlos put him on his knees a lot, showed up at his hotel rooms when he got back from the track like he was the one gagging for it.

It’s not unusual for Lando to be pulled aside in the bathroom for a minute by someone who works in the paddock, or spotted with new hickeys every day in a week.

It’s casual. Routine.

Until Oscar Piastri sits down across from him in the McLaren boardroom for the first time.

He expects Oscar to take advantage of the perks of the job right away. Plenty of rookies have. Hell even timid little Logan Sargent tried out his mouth during preseason testing.

But Oscar doesn’t. He doesn’t do anything. No teasing witty jokes like from his physio, no knowing smiles or lusty gazes.

Oscar appears completely unaffected.

He’s not the first person to not take up Lando on the open offer, but he would be the first to offer Lando in a way he doesn’t understand that doesn’t quite sit right in his chest.

Oscar knows that Lando Norris is a slut.

You’d be hard pressed, even in the junior formulas, to find someone who hasn’t heard the stories of Lando getting put on his knees in a bathroom stall before quali or fucked by practically half the grid because they’ve DNFd at some point.

He’s not oblivious, not to anything about Lando Norris.

But Oscar hasn’t been playing the role of number one fanboy since he was still in karts to have Landos mouth once while some assholes cum is still dripping out of him.

When he gets Lando Norris, it won’t be because he’s the paddock slut. It will be because Lando belongs to him now and no one else is going to change that.

Besides, oscar knows Lando has never really been a slut. He’s been a bratty twink who’s never been told no while he’s spoiled rotten by an endless stream of hands to jerk his cock and tell him how pretty and good he is. Oscar intends to fix that.

It starts with their fifa sessions. Landos practically taken over Oscar’s driver room since he’s in there every free moment anyway. They play fifa or talk about nothing while Oscar rubs his shoulders or feet. Oscar keeps kinder in his room so Lando doesn’t have to walk the two feet to his.

Lando props his feet up in Oscar’s lap or falls asleep on his shoulder or sprawls out all over the floor like he owns it. What a brat. But he’s Oscar’s brat and he’s cute so he’s allowed.

Besides, landos excessive comfort and over familiarity make it that much easier to institute phase II of his plan.

He waits until they’ve been gaming for hours, a lazy day devoted to media content and strategy reworking they’ve decided to extend for game night.

Landos had a few sodas (spoiled) and traipses his socked feet across the floor to use the bathroom. Oscar waits until his hand is on the doorknob to ask, “What do you think you’re doing?” With the casual arch of a brow.

“Um, just using the toilet, mate? Why, for some kind of problem with that?” Lando sputters out uncertainly. It’s a little bratty and a little defiant, gives Oscar just enough fuel to keep going.

“I might. But you’d never know since you didn’t ask.” Oscar answers with a straight face.

“Ask? What is this, grade school?” Lando fires back with a dramatic pout.

Oscar takes the invitation to crowd Lando against the corner of the wall and the door, feeling the wall of body heat from Oscar soak into his back with his hand still outstretched to the door handle.

“This is basic manners. You ask. You wait, patiently, for a yes or no. You act accordingly. Everyone else here knows how to do this Lando, why don’t you?”

Landos brain stutters at the closeness, the heat, the little Aussie growl to his deep voice. “I-I know, I just didn’t think-“

“That’s right lan, you didn’t think. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson for being rude.”

“No! No - I - I can ask, I can ask!” Oscar smiles against his curls at the mild desperation in his voice.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Lando asks wearily.

“Okay. You can ask.”

“Um, Oscar, can I, May I go to the bathroom?” With a little nip at his shoulder from Oscar’s bunny teeth he adds, “please! Please, Oscar, may I please go to the bathroom.”

“There you go, now was that so hard?” Lando already finds himself missing the weight and heat against him.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said, no. You can leave when we’re done here. Be polite and wait until the end of the match.”

Lando hesitates by the door like a ghost before wandering back down where he’d been on the couch next to Oscar. Oscar wordlessly pulls his socked feet back across his lap and does not remark at the fuzzy state of mind that keeps Lando quiet and scoring a grand total of zero points for the rest of the game.

When Lando gets put on his knees in a hallway near the factory entrance after Oscar leaves just before him, his legs feel like jelly and it’s the driest his throats ever felt with a cock in it.

Phase II happens about a week later when Lando has learned to ask. He asks to leave the room or Oscar’s side. Asks if he can have treats like kinder. Says please and thank you. But outside of that it still business as usual. Lando still sluts himself out in the paddock and Oscar says nothing. But that’s about to change.

They’re working on data analytics in a casual workshopping meeting in a big boardroom full of techs when it happens. They’re getting a weird amount of drag into turn 6 and trying to figure out why.

A friendly looking blonde mechanic cracks open the door and asks Lando if he’s free for a break. Which is thinly veiled code for can I fuck you right now.

Lando, as if on instinct, turns and asks Oscar if he can go on break now. He’s already gathering his things, not even bothering to look Oscar in the eyes.

“No, we need to finish up the drag issue.”

The room grinds to a halt. The Lando asking thing is new and weird but whatever this is formula 1 everything is new and weird. But being told no? To getting fucked? That’s a first.

Everyone braces for a blowout. The paddock princess being told no cock? Nice try, piastri.

And then the entire room watches Lando pout, tell the mechanic maybe later, and sit back down to stare resignedly at the whiteboard.

Oscar can barely contain his smirk.

The guy eventually does find Lando and pull him into some utility closet. It’s so bad Lando wants to cry.

Phase III comes after a slow trickle of Nos. At first Oscar is just picky about when Lando gets to get fucked. Then it’s just less. Suddenly Lando is whining at the feeling of his dick against the zipper of his jeans because it’s been a week since he’s even seen a cock. (Oscar said no to porn, too. Stupid asking)

He’s still rocking back and forth like that, helplessly, when Oscar enters his drivers room.

“Did you ask if you could get off?”

Lando is officially done. He’s been polite, he’s asked. He’s been practically abstinent. All he wants is to be fucked. Be slutty. Right now or he might die, actually.

“Oh fuck you, Oscar! All these fucking orders you think you’d at least fuck me, but no I have to get myself off because it’s been a week and you’ve not even looked at me, much less let anyone else do it!”

It’s bratty. It’s breaking point.

Oscar just silently stalks over the where Lando is still kneeling on the floor to capture Landos chin in one hand and turn it up to face him at a slightly uncomfortable angle.

“One chance. Apologize like the good, polite boy you’ve been for me-“

“Or what?”

Oscar spits in his mouth and grabs his chin shut at that. Hard. “Or I fuck you like the pathetic slut you like to whore yourself out as until you can prove you’ve learned some manners you little brat.”

“But you’d like that? Wouldn’t you?”

Lando just whines and begs with his eyes.

“Pants and underwear down. On the bed. You’re getting a spanking and if you come before I let you I will milk you dry. Understood?”

•••

Lando Norris is no longer a slut.

Everyone is very aware of it, the way you are of a giant red stop sign in front of a wall. Mostly because this wall is an f1 driver with a glare if you breathe too close.

Rumor spread fast in the paddock after Oscar carried Lando Norris through the paddock over one shoulder, his bare ass exposed in all its red, handprinted glory. Oscar doesn’t really care, people can say what they want, he’s got what he wants.

It doesn’t really matter what everyone says about Lando anyway, the thick strap of black leather with neon blobs and silver stars that loops around his neck says he’s Oscar’s good boy.

Carlos Sainz x Oscar Piastri

Cock Rings + Teasing

Thanks Anon! :)

(Slightly weird writing this right after a Mark Webber Cock Ring draft, like father like son I guess 🤷🏼‍♀️)

Carlos has never been one for surprises. He was raised Spanish, slightly religious, and surrounded by a loving family. He was raised with a loving mother and a father who wanted to put a steering wheel in his hands before he could walk.

All in all, his life is a natural follow through of all of that. He represents Spain proudly, he goes to church occasionally for his mother, he races in f1 as his father’s pride and joy.

The day Oscar Piastri walked into the paddock Carlos knew he hated him a little. Finding out he was gay in his workplace in front of two dozen live mics was the surprise of a lifetime.

He hated Oscar for the shock of freckles and the way he got hard listening to those team radios where he sounded so Aussie and angry all at once in a way he never did outside the car.

But Carlos Sainz is a man who prefers the natural follow through. If that happens to involve hate sex with the rookie who’s been staring in his wet dreams? Sue him, at least hes not totally surprised when he ends up race suit around his knees, balls deep inside Oscar fucking piastri in some utility closet outside the stewards office after some stupid Oscar induced penalty.

Oscar induced penalty. Oscar induced headache. Oscar induced boner. This guy is practically an evil viagra in human form.

He’d been painfully hard in his car the last half of his race after Oscar nearly clipped his front wing. He could just imagine the kind of tone the other was taking on his team radio. Angry. Aussie. Hot. And totally not because Carlos had listened to that tone to get off nearly every night that week.

So by the time they got out of the stewards office after a shouting match that left a panel of FIA officials with shiny eyes, he was unsurprised his dick was shortly inside Oscar piastri.

He was unfortunately surprised that shortly was the main way Oscar would put it.

It wasn’t his fault he’d been hard over an hour. Oscar was making these little sounds from where he was pressed against the wall, pulling Carlos’ hair so right. He wasn’t expecting how tight and hot Oscar was going to be, slicked open on Carlos’ fingers while he begged and whimpered like a caged songbird of pleasure.

But surprising Carlos is what Oscar does best, so maybe he should be less…surprised.

Or at least more expectant of the shocked look on Oscar’s face when Carlos prematurely cums with just the head of his cock inside Oscar’s hole, pumping him full and leaving him so empty all at once.

“I- Are you fucking serious, mate?” Oscar sputters, breathless in disbelief. “All that alpha male posturing for ten minutes grinding against my dick in a cupboard to cum before you’ve even bottomed out?”

Carlos has no response except the tiny, valiant, kick his dick gives, which, great time to learn he has a humiliation kink of whatever this is while Oscar is still being held up by his grip on Carlos’ biceps.

Carlos does not see the evil little smirk that graces Oscar’s face as Carlos awkwardly removes his cock and attempts to stem the leaking of his cum onto the floor with a slew of apologies and the arm of his race suit.

He curses himself at Oscar’s obvious hard on still standing at attention against his lithe abs, his rucked up team polo.

His face is on fire. He’s failed to make Oscar cum. He lets him down gently and tries to find an apology or NDA request that could fix this before he flees.

“Well if you’re not up to finishing the job you can at least handle it when you’ve hand a moment to collect yourself.” Oscar poses cooly.

“Is that what you need? A little water break so you can get it up and last long enough to actually get it in this time?”

Carlos is stood still, motionless. In shock at the vision before him, Oscar piastri. Angry. Aussie. Every bit as hot outside the car as he’s sounded inside it. His dick is already stirring in his fireproofs again.

“I get it, must be hard as you get older.”

Carlos is 27 to Oscar’s 21 and had no idea that could make his breath go shallow.

“We’re staying at the Hilton, Room 1664. If you’re not going to do it at least send someone who can.”

And with that Oscar’s out the door with no look back and a light tread into the hallway. It hits Carlos like a bus that his cum is still leaking out of Oscar as the rookie threatens to fuck someone else in the same breath.

•••

When Carlos shows up outside a Hilton executive suite he expects a lot of things. Uniform neutral furniture, tessellation wallpaper, a decent view of the skyline.

He does not expect Oscar piastri opening the door in a white robe.

He thinks to himself that he needs to be used to this already as he’s pushed up against the door for a smoldering kiss as the robe comes off and a pair of bright Ferrari red crotchless panties are exposed.

His eyes go wide and all he gets is a wink and sudden distance.

“Strip. I shouldn’t let you get too excited, had to handle your mess myself once. Don’t fancy doing it again.”

It’s mean and cold and has Carlos out of his clothes and sitting against the headboard so fast he forgets how he got there. All he knows is he has a lap full of Oscar and red straps and he wants to take advantage.

But Oscar’s in control now, pinning Carlos with his thighs and maneuvering the Spaniards dick between his gorgeous ass cheeks. He starts gently pushing himself up and down on Carlos’ shoulders, riding his cock through the scarlet panties and nearly giving Carlos a goddam heart attack. Maybe 27 is too old for this. Jesus.

Oscar keeps up the languid roll of his hips until Carlos is at full hardness and feels himself about to have a repeat performance of the fastest orgasm of his life from this afternoon.

“Please Oscar, I-I can’t-“

“Stop.” Oscar says as he hovers in mid air with the tip of Carlos’ cock pressing against his prepped entrance.

“If you fuck how you drive I figured I needed an insurance policy.” Carlos whines as he watches Oscar lift himself back behind Carlos’ lap to extract a silver ring from god knows where off to the side.

“You going to get more than just the tip this time?” Carlos whines out a yes but with those eyes on him and how much he’s learned about himself today he honestly isn’t sure.

“That’s okay.” Oscar quips, sliding the ring into place. “You’re not in charge of that, so it doesn’t really matter.”

The smile on his face is so sweet, so patronizing as he says it. And oh, those were outside thoughts.

Oscar rides him like he’s been waiting for this since the stewards office. It’s hard and fast and the red straps around his hips become a lifeline for Carlos as Oscar smacks his hands away and tells him this is what he gets, what Oscar decides he can take.

He feels less guilty when he comes down Oscar’s throat this time, but only because Oscar only removed the ring after three orgasms of his own and riding Carlos’ face with the same intensity. At least he can escape with a final shred of his dignity knowing that was his final lesson in getting fucked by Oscar piastri.

“Waited all that time just to earn it? There’s my good boy.”

Cock rings Part 1

Mark has simmered out significantly over the years.

He left Red Bull behind, wrote a book, divorced his wife, adopted way too many dogs, and, somehow, a floppy haired f1 driver too.

He spends time doting over the son he never got to have and going on runs along the beach and generally enjoying a half on half off phase of retirement limbo he exists in that mostly involves annoying his twenty something son about details on his little boyfriend. (Mark is not overstepping boundaries in the name of Oscar’s wellbeing, he’s not, that’s insane. He’s googling Carlos Sainz on an hourly basis because it’s good for his health.)

At first it’s funny, jenson and Fernando getting to conspiratorially chuckle behind their hands at marks hopeless face while a besotted Oscar trails after the Spaniard.

Then Oscar isn’t the only one looking besotted and the chuckles stop.

Mark is suddenly at every race. He’s calling Oscar at all hours to see how he’s feeling. (Important.) he’s dropping in on Aston Martin hospitality for a visit with Fernando. (Long overdue. Oh, Williams is next door this season? Crazy.) he’s taken up casual chats with an increasingly amused Lewis. (No he is not in the Ferrari garage to gather information. He’s here to talk to his dear friend Hamilton. Lewis. That guy.)

The 2000s grid finds it laughable at first. The work hard play hard mark who used to always walk into the paddock with a blonde on his arm or at least leave with one in his bed is now playing telephone and slinking around corners to stalk a teenager in bright orange as he tries and fails to act cool about his crush.

Genuinely, it is very funny. Until jenson is walking through McLaren hospitality to say hello to Lando and sees Oscar near tears walking out of his drivers room.

It takes him twenty minutes to coax the kid into telling him about how he thinks Carlos must hate him now because it almost felt like he was looking back and now it’s like he scared him off. The little hiccups and sniffles make jenson realize exactly how this kid got mark wrapped around his little finger.

Jenson button walks out of that garage with his head held high and Nico Rosberg on speed dial in a way he intends to put to use.

If there’s anything Nico loves more than gossip and meddling it’s gossip and meddling in the name of love. The blonde takes one look at the tortured Williams driver in a sad blue suit and matching eyes, does a once over at his fluffy hair, and decides he absolutely must be reunited with his prodigious love at once with a flair for the dramatic only Nico could muster.

After a second glance is all it takes for Nico to spot mark glaring at Carlos over Oscar’s shoulder? He knows exactly who to call to jog their reformed playboy out of overprotective dad mode for long enough to see exactly how hypocritical he’s being.

Sebastian Vettel picks up the phone on the first ring after the second try when he finally gets far enough from the hive to remove his netted sun hat. He tries unsuccessfully to convince Nico he’s too old for metaling before jenson explains the situation.

It takes the tale of a tortured twink, disapproval for an age gap relationship, and mark Webber skulking around in socks and sandals like a proud dad for Sebastian to decide he has to book a flight out to silverstone to see this for himself.

Jenson cackles like a hyena when he tells him to bring lube. Seb pretends he hung up early enough to not hear that.

So early, in fact, Nico calls him back to ensure he is bringing lube. Seb just laughs and tells him Nico wasn’t the first paddock twink and apparently is even further from the last then originally thought if those photos of Oscar are anything to go by.

•••

Alpha!Top!Lando x Omega!Bottom!Oscar

Lando has never been good at being a ‘traditional’ alpha. He presented late at 18. He’s small in height and frame. He spent so long thinking he might be a beta or even an omega with his tendencies towards collecting fashionable clothes and longing for attention he’s never really held himself like an alpha.

He learned to shake it off, he’s been dealing with off remarks and weird journalists since he was getting Velcroed into his cart. He’s a kind person, a thoughtful son and friend, he has a decent scent of sandalwood and smoke even if it’s a little understated, he’s damn fast, and he’s always had a big dick so who cares what a bunch of knot heads are saying about him.

He’s not an alpha? Simply false.

It makes him less of a man? He’s got plenty of man, thanks.

He’s a worse driver for it? Tell that to his championship.

After a while, he learns to just not care.

Until he meets Oscar.

Oscar, who smells like a field of daisies and freshly washed laundry when he floats into the MTC bundled in a big soft coat and dopey grin.

For the first time in his life Lando feels the alpha instinct to protect, to provide well up burning hot in his chest as he looks at this adorable omega shyly greeting the engineers.

That’s when Lando chooses to freak out. He’s never really been all that alpha so he’s just been with betas, the odd omega. But omega typically don’t like being knotted by hookups in nightclub bathrooms, especially outside of heat. He is so totally out of his depth.

And, well, the other thing. He has a big cock, okay? He knows it. Tries not to brag, most people find out and some fans do it for him anyways. It’s whatever. Usually just means he doesn’t get to come inside or get all the way inside. It’s fine.

But now it’s not fine because for the first time he’s met someone he wants to come inside or at least have the feeling of being inside and he’s panicking. Hard. Forget that Lando hasn’t even had a proper conversation with Oscar yet, or that Oscar is already giving him hero worship heart eyes from across the conference table.

Lando Norris wants to impress his that omega. And he is properly freaking out.

So what does Lando Norris do when he freaks out? He makes it max fewtrells problem. Nevermind that the beta probably wasn’t expecting a 3am phone call from a tearful Lando.

And max does what max does best, gets on a plane and explains to Lando that he’ll live. Probably. Though even max wavers on that line when he sees the way Oscar looks ready to climb his bestfriend like a tree. Makes him almost regret helping if he knows they’re going to have their stupid secondary pheromones all over each other.

Whatever. The things he does to make his best friend happy.

He convinces Lando he is perfectly capable of learning to please an omega, to properly stretch someone. That Oscar would be willing to try. That nothing can go wrong.

Except things do start going wrong.

Not for Lando, who is meticulously researching and watching real educational videos, not porn. Okay, not just porn. He even bought seven kinds of scented lube just in case. He has yet to ask Oscar on a date. Or broach the topic of his overwhelming feelings. Or even mention that his soul is actively trying to work its way out of his body via his kneecaps to cuddle the omega, preferably around those stupidly thick thighs.

More so for Oscar, who has been so excited to meet and befriend his childhood hero/crush/poster he had on his wall that he practiced making out with. But it’s fine bc he and Lando are fine now and that was so long ago. (It was f2. The poster lives in a box in a closet in Monaco that mark Webber knew better than to volunteer to start unpacking.)

But Oscar sees the way Lando doesn’t want to get to close, keeps a respectful distance. So he decides to get over his awkward crush. He accepts a few dates from sponsors and old teammates, even a karting track owner from London.

Oscar is polite and thankful for their interest but not really into. He’s more into getting back from those dates and finding Charles and snuggling with the other omega in his nest even if it kind of does smell like max a little. But who is he to judge.

So what if Lando is losing his ever loving mind while considering buying a life size omega anatomy guide on a sketchy looking .edu site. A few dates mean nothing. He’s not going to push the steadily growing boundaries of friendship, of ever lasting hugs and padel matches, until he knows he can be the kind of aloha Oscar deserves. The lifts he purchased off of Amazon are no ones business but his.

It’s after one of these dates Oscar goes on that things go wrong. The date itself was fine. A too tight suit and a too bright smell sitting across from his sipping Chardonnay. He felt only a little guilty he wished his date had curls and a smell as burnt as the candle between them in the table. But this particular alpha wasn’t keen on wearing a scent patch and had insisted on walking Oscar back to his apartment. Had even tried to kiss him at the door though Oscar swung his head last minute and the alpha only caught the column his neck.

They said their awkward goodbyes and the next thing Oscar knows he’s laying in his nest crying realizing he’s been within two feet of an aloha who’s been oozing pheromones all night and he can’t breathe. His omega wants the warmth back. The presence. Wants his alpha that smells like sandalwood, not just the scented hoodies he stole for his nest. The awkward slobber to his scent gland just sent Oscar’s pheromones spiraling.

With Charles finally out of town with max, Oscar’s hindbrain makes the call for him.

Lando picks up on the first ring and starts taking the stairs two at a time, thanking god or Messi or maybe even senna and Schumacher that Monaco is three apples tall and his omega asked if he liked his building.

All he hears is Lando I need you. I want you. Please. Whines and little whimpers and something that sounds wet. He’s never felt so alpha in his life.

Lando opens the door to Oscar’s bedroom determined to give his omega the best dominant big bad alpha sex of his life.

When he sees Oscar curled around a McLaren hoodies with tear tracks down his cheeks and smelling like panic, all of that ceases to exist. Fuck being a real alpha whatever that means. Screw the expectations or the few inches he’s missing, at least vertically.

He runs on instinct as he asks to enter Oscar’s nest, covering his curled form while getting a shaky, breathy explanation.

His baby smells like some other alpha and Lando can feel the headspace of needing warmth and reassurance. Lando wraps both hands around Oscar’s waist with Oscar’s back against his chest. He threads his fingers through the omegas. He puts his nose right against Oscar’s scent gland and gently pulses it there.

They spend the night cuddled together in Oscars nest, just scenting each other while Lando babbles on about how good Oscar was to stand up for himself, to know to call Lando, to be so smart to leave the door unlocked for him.

Lando holds Oscar in his arms and realizes he still doesn’t know how to knot an omega or fill them up or make Oscar see god like he wanted.

And it doesn’t matter. Not because hes become some perfect macho alpha worthy of the title. But because he can comfort the omega he loves. He can remember to ask to enter Oscar’s nest. He can dry tears and hold hands and cuddle and be there on the first ring. He’s the kind of alpha he wants Oscar to deserve, hyper masculine knot head bullshit aside.

He has no idea if he’ll ever live up to the standard of traditional alpha. Especially not when he doesn’t even really know how to find the courage to get out of this nest and beg his beautiful omega on his knees to let Lando court him the way he deserves, to earn even seeing such a beautiful nest much less sleeping in it. But he lives up to his standard of loving Oscar. Of providing. Of protecting.

And if he ever does get to knot his beautiful Oscar he knows it will be amazing, because it’s Oscar, but he also knows this will still be his favorite part.

Ex Rivals Friends w/Benefits, Hanahaki

Requested for my 55 follower CarCar celebration <3 Requests for all ships are always open! :)

The first time Carlos notices Oscar it’s because he’s gorgeous. And tiny.

Just Carlos’ type.

Oscar is standing next to Lando with stars in his eyes, every bit the rookie he looks like. His moles look bitable and his messy hair makes him look like a baby bird that fell out of the nest. Or just got fucked. Not that Carlos is thinking about that second option.

But Oscar is looking at Lando the same way Lando used to look at Carlos so bitable is going to have to wait.

It waits until the next season when Oscar calls him blind over the radio and Carlos somehow ends up bent over a hotel mattress with a pillow under his hips. It’s the first time he’s ever bottomed and the first time he’s ever come untouched and he’d probably be mortally embarrassed if he wasn’t still looking at Oscar in astonishment as the other driver walked to the bathroom and told him if he wanted to clean up he could join him nonchalantly.

Even after being so pissed off Oscar basically held him into the mattress when Carlos came, he still has the energy to eat his cum out of Carlos in the shower. Carlos pretends he doesn’t remember telling Oscar if he wants him to feel it he should put it in raw. They both knew he was definitely going to feel it anyway.

Every on track brushing turns into blowjobs in hotel bathrooms or punishing phone sex on private jets in seven hour time differences.

Carlos can’t get enough. Random hook ups turn into tops only then brown eyes and fluffy freshly fucked brown hair only then disappear completely as he and Oscar exchange numbers and begin texting. Room numbers. Dirty pictures.

The first day of some break Oscar fucks Carlos in front of the fireplace in some ski chalet they’re both absconding to for a weekend bc Ferrari sucks and texting Oscar that gets him a sloppy makeout session anytime he wants.

It’s his first time in missionary and he realizes he’s so fucked when he sees Oscar’s eyes as he watches Carlos suck his slender fingers between his plush lips. He gives Oscar beard burn against his neck just rubbing like a cat searching out warmth. They talk late into the night about nothing and how much they want to win and how mark is texting Oscar like a concerned father.

Carlos tells his dad about Oscar with bated breath. Just that they spent a few days of break together and he’s nice. Really nice, the hickies on his hip bones remind him. The line goes silent for a moment before he can hear his dad smiling around the next words, saying he knows they’ve never discussed it and he knows Carlos has never brought anyone home but if he wanted to, he could. Carlos doesn’t know how to respond to that and the weight in his chest is crushing.

Because he knows Oscar doesn’t feel the same. This is just sex for him, a release, a friendship that’s nice to have. An escape from Lando Norris and the lack of looking back.

Carlos just accepts the version of Oscar that returns his question mark texts with exclamation marks and meets him in his motorhome after he signs his Williams contract.

Oscar is just glad to have a friend. The best sex he’s ever had and knowing Carlos isn’t having sex with Lando are just happy accidents along the way.

So they keep fucking nasty and spiting in each others mouths and wearing out each others belt buckles. Until the day Carlos sees pink flowers against the porcelain backdrop of his sink and just knows. Like he knows the sky is blue and Oscar is perfect and Ferrari doesn’t want him.

It’s certain and unshakeable. He’s falling in love and it’s going to kill him.

Because Oscar is perfect. If Carlos told Oscar about the flowers, about the longing, the needing, all the anguish, he would come running like he always does.

Because oscar is a good person and would rather pretend to love Carlos back to save his life than let him wither and perish. It only makes Carlos love him more and resolve to never ruin him like that.

He will not shackle Oscar to a demoted loser who will spend the rest of his life longing for something he cannot have while dragging some stupid blue car into the midfield.

Not when he’s seen how Oscar has looked at Lando for so long and how Lando has finally started to look back.

Hello my darlings! I received this request in my comments forever ago. Pls let me know if you’d like to be untagged and ty for the request darling <3

Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg are used to touching each other. Lewis has woken up with his hand around Nico’s waist in abed they shared. Nico has massaged the knots out of his shoulders or held ice packs against his bruises. Lewis knows what silky blond strands feel like when he cards his fingers through them.

He’s used to Nico touching him.

Ostentatiously French kisses on his cheeks and drunk brushes of his own finger tips against Nico’s face tucking his stupidly long hair back behind his ears. Until the age of 14 he wasn’t honestly aware he could own separate tshirts that didn’t smell like Nico, his expensive lemon soap or sweat.

They’ve wrestled and broken beds together and even had that one night after a bonfire party near some track he got too drunk to remember when they were both making out with two pretty girls enamored with the idea of fast cars in their laps as they sat in the sand making entirely too much eye contact.

He’s used to Nico touching him. It was nothing new when Nico’s fingers slipped two inches too wide on the beach as he moaned around the shape of some girl’s lips and ended up staying right there next to Lewis’. No holding hands to interlocking just so close for so long while their eyes never left.

It was the first time Nico ever said anything about it, how casual their touch was, how different from other boys their age in way he’d only seen in places he wasn’t ready to process.

Nico just turned over on their shared pillow when they got back to their room that night - no girls - and said he was sorry if he made Lewis uncomfortable for touching his hand when they were doing, ya know, that. Lewis only saw his downcast eyes and pretty blush before he told Nico he was his best friend, they’d been sharing beds before most boys they competed with could take a hairpin, Nico was allowed to touch him whenever he wanted.

Lewis was decidedly not ready to examine the feeling in his stomach as Nico’s blush intensified and he took the hand Lewis hand left on the pillow and turned it over to plant a kiss on the back.

Lewis, star struck just used it to cradle Nico’s head against the pillow until they fell asleep.

Then F1 happened.

Lewis’ rookie season, Mercedes, 2016, so many world championships.

Lewis gets knighted in 2020 after everything with Nico has already fallen apart. But it’s China and Nico loves China so there he is, microphone in hand, blue eyes just as knowing as they’ve ever been.

Nico is wearing a shirt Lewis has never seen before. His hair is still shiny, looks good. He’s standing with jenson, also all clipped up. Even Fernando has made his way over to laugh at some joke while vettel smiles and tousles Nico’s hair. It’s the kind of kicking back of the dads and uncles at family reunions who have too many old stories to laugh about that they forget all the rest and still run out of time.

Lewis tried to skirt it with a well placed umbrella or pair of sunglasses that upon further inspection Nico may have actually bought him but it’s no use. Jenson Button, that sexed up shit stirrer pulls him in by his shoulder conspiratorially and suddenly he’s closer to Nico than he’s been in years.

It suddenly hits him that he is not used to Nico.

The air leaves his lungs differently.

But it’s well hidden as the old guard keeps throwing jokes and seb mocks him with a curtsy complete with made up skirt holding. It sets off a new chorus of laughter as various bows and sirs are thrown off into the air.

But it’s Nico who bends back straight into an elegant grasping of his hand before pulling it right to his lips. He does not imagine the way the air falls silent as Nico presses a gentle kiss over his cross on a way Lewis’ brain shirks away from before his hand.

He hears a whispered Sir Hamilton and when he regains consciousness it’s just the two of them and the memory of their hands pressed together like this under a peaceful Nico’s cheek against linen sheets Lewis didn’t understand and couldn’t afford. When Nico’s lips hadn’t touched the very reason Lewis would keep pulling back. Keep showering cold and pulling away and blaming Mercedes and calling Nico so so pretty because maybe if he looked like a girl Lewis could pretend there was a reason he liked Nico’s hair and soap and hated all his girlfriends.

But this Nico has a wife. Smells like some aftershave Lewis doesn’t recognize over fresh cut citrus.

Is too close to something so important as he watches his cross tattoo jerk away from Nico’s hold.

Lewis Hamilton has always been familiar with Nico Rosberg, but a lewis without knowing Nico, with parts he’s never touched under dark ink and pious lies, is not really Lewis Hamilton at all.

He looks down at his racing gloves at every turn at thinks about lasers and cheese graters and the touch of sand and blonde hair.

Request any prompt or prompts with any drivers! You can send any link or prompt regardless of if you see it below, I can also do any of these A/B/O. Specify top/bottom of your wish. My inbox is always open my darlings <3

aftercare

anal hooks

bathroom permission

begging

blindfolds

bondage - heavy

bondage - light

brat taming

breathplay

cages

chastity devices

cock rings

cockwarming

collar - dog

collar - choke

collar - prong

collar - shock

collaring - private

collaring - public

consensual non-consent (CNC)

daddy kink

discipline

dom female

dom male

edging

electric stimulation

forced orgasms

free use

fucking machine

gag - ball/bit

gag - medical/dental

gag - ring/spider

gag - phallic

gag - tape

hand feeding

handcuffs

harem

harnesses

hoods

human furniture

humiliation - private

humiliation - public

kink negotiations

kneeling

leashes

master/slave

masks/muzzles

mommy kink

orgasm denial

pet play

punishment

roleplay - adult baby

roleplay - ageplay

roleplay - animal

roleplay - hunter/prey

roleplay - medical

roleplay - teacher/student

role reversal

sadism/masochism

safewords

sensory/sensation play

sensory deprivation

shibari/rope art

slave/pet training

sounding

spreader bar

straightjackets

submissive female

submissive male

suspension

temperature play

tickling

traffic light system

blowjobs

cunnilingus

deep throating

double penetration

face fucking

face sitting

facials

fisting - anal

fisting - vaginal

Mutual masturbation

pegging

rimming

scissoring

threesome/multi-partner

toys - dildos

toys - plugs

toys - vibrators

vaginal sex

69ing

angry sex/hatefucking

car sex

casual sex/fuck buddies

distant/distracted sex

drunk sex

gentle sex

mirror sex

phone sex

pool/bathtub sex

public sex

rough sex

sex against a wall

sexting

shower sex

sleepy sex

bladder desperation

blood

creampie

cum play

diapers

drool/drooling

lactation - female

lactation - male

snowballing (cum swapping)

spit as lube

spitting in mouth

squirting

sweat

swallowing cum

tears/crying

boot stepping

clothed sex

corsets

costumes

crossdressing

formal wear

gloves

high heels

jewelry

latex

leather

lingerie

makeup

military uniforms

slutty clothes

underwear/panties

age difference

aphrodisiacs

barebacking

bestiality

breeding/impregnation

claiming/marking

cock milking

competence kink

coming in pants

coming on command

coming untouched

consensual somnophilia

cuddling

degradation

dirty talk

drug use

erotic dancing

exhaustion

fighting/wrestling

first time with partner

food play

frottage/grinding

glory hole

guns/weapons

gunplay

infidelity/cheating

jealousy

lapdances

licking

massages

monsterfucking

multiple orgasms

object insertion

objectification - female

objectification - male

olfactophilia (scent kink)

open relationships

oral fixation

overstimulation

oviposition

pet names

praise kink

promiscuity

prostitution

public groping

sex tapes

sexual inexperience

shotgunning (sharing smoke)

size difference

size kink

sleep deprivation

sloppy seconds

smoking

spitroasting

stripping

sugar daddy

teasing

tentacles

virginity

voyeurism

watching porn

wet dreams

They both clearly have ADHD and really bounce off each other, but I also think that when things get too overwhelming for Lando and he starts shutting down, Daniel is always there to help, offering a soft hoodie and some fidgets.

Hi anon! Thank you for the ask <3

I’m not sure if this is meant to be a ship request or platonic so I’ll do both. Feel free to request with specifics if you like. Never written them before but I can totally see where you’re coming from.

Lando is the kind of person who bounces off the walls and is always told he’s too loud, too much. Then Daniel walks into the MTC fresh off the largest spiral of his career and all of a sudden there’s someone who’s equally loud and rambunctious and taking up space.

Now people aren’t looking at Lando weird they’re looking at Lando AND Daniel weird.

For someone who went through his childhood so much smaller than the rest of the kids he had to be strapped into his kart with Velcro, it’s nice to have a friend. A partner in crime. It’s a nice feeling.

When Daniel first gets there Lando is so excited by the prospect of this friendship he’s scared to get tired or boring in fear of leaving his new friend under stimulated and unentertained.

Daniel has a lot of friends in the paddock and Lando doesn’t want to give him a reason to abandon him for them. So Landos turns it up to 11 for days. They bounce ideas, they comb through data, they are attached at the hip.

And then Lando starts feeling the seams of his polo and how cold the room is and knows he’s overdone it. Overextended his energy. He’s going to freak out like a crybaby and his teammate is going to think he’s a freak bc he can’t stand the way a shirt feels.

But then Daniel just finds him in his drivers room curled up against the wall and wordlessly turns off the lights, shucks off his own fleece hoodie, and hands it over with a like snake toy in bright orange.

Lando doesn’t know what it’s like to have a friend in racing. But he knows what it’s like to have someone you can call for a hug or to cry or for ten minutes of silence in an empty boardroom or even all three.

And maybe when he explains the frequency and duration of the hug part and how much he likes them he gets a slight eyebrow raise from max on their check in phone call of the week but that doesn’t matter because he has a friend and he’s going to keep this one.

Pt.2 of anon request about alpha Oscar finding omega Logan’s panties and Logan finding Oscar, pt.1 already posted

Oscar is standing in front of a shallow door in Logan’s driver room looking down at his hand like a bomb just went off in it.

From his fingers hangs a thin maze of cotton strings Oscar just dug out from the back of Logan’s underwear drawer.

Why he was looking there? Unimportant.

What’s important is that the initial wave of rage and alpha possessiveness that filled the room with the scent of burnt chocolate at the recognition of underwear he did not purchase for his omega has subsided. Mostly because Oscar has realized the cotton panties in his hands are green and gold in such a distinct Aussie way it makes him pause.

Pause to spin the scrap of fabric around until his hand runs across the damp spot at the tiny gusset. The growl he lets out is involuntary as he leans into the dresser he’s opened for support.

Of all the panties Oscar has bought Logan, this is the pair that’s freshly soaked with the seductive scent of marshmallow slick? Oscar feels sick to his stomach. He didn’t even think Logan owned underwear he hadn’t seen with often he’s been going down on the omega to alleviate his migraines.

But he guesses he was wrong. Logan has underwear he doesn’t know about. Logan is doing things that stain his panties with slick that he doesn’t know about. Logan must have another alpha that Oscar doesn’t know about.

Just a few days out from his rut everything is heightened and the jealousy is blinding. The desire to bury his face in Logan’s pussy again and again and remind the omega that he as an alpha can provide comfort and pleasure is overbearing.

His instincts take charge as Oscar drops to his knees and pins the soaked panties against Logan’s dresser with both hands holding the thinnest strings over the hips and his nose nuzzling at the already wet fabric before he allows his tongue to taste the omega as he imagine his delicious moans.

It’s then, painting the fabric with deep punishing licks and rutting against the floor from the taste of Logan, that he feels it. The raised bumps of embroidery. He pulls his face away from the raised texture only to be met with the sight of his own driver number staring back at him in gold framed by the little stars of the Australian flag.

His alpha howls with the need to claim their mate. At how wet Logan has been for him. How plain his desire is laid out before him. Oscar can feel his knot pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans as he imagines his precious Logan finding someway to wet these panties with Oscar’s damn number on them with his own slick so badly that even hours after they’ve been allowed in their rooms today Oscar could ring drops out of the fabric and onto his tongue.

With the rollercoaster his blood pressure has taken his knot is already thrumming when Oscar pulls his dick out of his jeans, still on the floor damn near humping the carpet with Logan’s panties in his mouth, only the driver number peeking out so he can just see it in his desperation.

But it’s not enough as his alpha calls for more of the omegas sweet melty marshmallow scent to mingle with the dark chocolate of his arousal. Oscar spots the omegas nest in the corner on his massage table and crawls towards it until he’s kneeling with his nose just pressed between the mattress and a piece of team kit that smells like a happy sated Logan.

Distantly, Oscar rumbles at the thought that Logan must’ve been wearing it when Oscar made him cum on his tongue for it to hold such a scent.

And that’s how Logan finds him. Hips jerking forward erratically, nose buried into their nest, face a bright red, growling out Logan’s name like a prayer. A pair of green and yellow panties wrapped around the knot of his cock with both hands as the head of his dick frantically releases drops of precum into the fabric.

“Osc-Oscar?” Logan stutters out in shock the moment he opens the door.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I can go get-“His alpha doesn’t let him finish as Logan is pushed up against his own door.

“No. You’re not going anywhere, omega. Not until you explain yourself.” Oscar growled while running his nose along his inside of Logan’s scent gland, making him shiver.

Between the overpowering alpha pheromones and the proximity to his Oscar, Logan’s brain shuts down. Having not seen the panties overshadowed by his large knot and leaking tip, Logan’s brain jumps to the idea that he knows about Logan’s sad little crush and is angry for how manipulative Logan has been getting Oscar to take care of him.

“Explain what, Oscar?” Logan whimpers through muffled cries as Oscar’s scent takes on a biter cocoa tone.

“Why I had to find these myself?”

At that, Logan’s eyes widen finally catching sight of the ruined panties in Oscar’s fist now painted with precome which he only recognizes as his own slick. Oscar only continues to place hot open mouthed kisses against the column of his throat down to the meat of muscle over his collarbones.

“I’m so sorry Oscar, I-“

“Sorry for what, omega, that I’ve spent months fucking into your pretty panties when I could’ve prevented my gorgeous omega from doing the same damn thing? That you keep calling me Oscar when you know who your alpha is?” Logan is only conscious of his knees buckling as Oscar’s weight pinning him against the door keeps him upright. “It’s okay baby, don’t have to say anything, I’ve got you.” And when Oscar says it it sounds so much like when they cuddle in the darkness during a bad migraine that Logan almost cries in relief that Oscar isn’t mad.

“Don’t worry, going to take if you, my beautiful omega. You understand?” And Logan does understand, he finally has his big strong handsome alpha here to take care of him.

But there’s one thing he doesn’t understand. “If you want me so badly why did you never knot me, alpha? I spent so long crying for it, even practiced my sweetest begging and you wouldn’t even give me your fingers.”

Now it’s Oscar’s turn to be shocked. “Couldn’t break your trust darling, hadn’t given me permission yet. I thought you just needed some pain relief and I would do anything to provide what you need.”

“You’re what I need alpha. I just-I spent so long needing you.” Logan sobs with a bruising kiss against his lips.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long baby, you just tell me what you need and I’ll do anything, anything. I promise.” Oscar says when they come up for air with a pleasing look in his eyes.

“Fingers. I want your fingers.” Logan gasps desperately. “Your cock and your knot and your cum, so we can have pups and -“ Oscar cuts him off with a look of pure worship and two fingers pressing into his mouth.

“Can’t say that to me omega or we won’t make it to the fucking best, and I refuse to take you against a door.” Oscar moves his lips from sharing the same air as Logan to whispering in his ear, “Gonna have to be more specific baby, you need my fingers, huh? Where?” Even on the edge of rut Oscar manages to reduce Logan to a hot, sticky mess.

“In-inside.” And no sooner do the words leave Logan’s lips than Oscar removes his hand to dip under the omegas skirt.

“Wait,” breathes logan, as Oscar goes stock still, “still want my mouth full. Wanted to be full of you for so long alpha, I need it.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan feels the damp edge of cotton swipe against his lips before a bruising kiss that holds his attention. The subsequent gasp for air earns him a mouth full of his own panties and two fingers sliding into his leaking cunt beneath his ruined panties.

Oscar only picks him up and finally carries his Logan into their nest to give Logan what he’s always needed for his whole rut long.

The panties stay in Logan’s mouth, or around his wrists, or even over his ruined hole so Oscar can watch his racing number as he knots Logan before watching his own cum leak back onto those panties.

Loscar Chronic Pain A/B/O Pt.4 (This will be two parts the build up and Logan catching Oscar in part 2 (part 5 for series))

Set chronologically sometime before pt.3 as a divergent timeline. Like an opposite way Loscar might figure themselves out.

Anon you amaze me!! Absolutely filthy prompt and I love it 🥰

Oscar is under the impression that his sweet adorable Logan would never be interested in spending Oscar’s rut with him. Nor should he, they’re best friends and Logan doesn’t owe him anything just because he keeps helping Logan out with his little problem.

Meanwhile the little problem is becoming a big problem as Logan tries to communicate to his body that just because Oscar eats him like his last meal everytime Logan has a migraine or a migraine in heat (which has been every heat so far) doesn’t mean Oscar likes him. As clearly evidenced by Oscar not giving him any penetration or knotting or anything during his heat no matter how much he begs when he loses his mind on alpha pheromones. (Oscar is holding himself back by the skin of his teeth and his upbringing with 3 omega sisters and an omega mother not to give Logan what he’s crying for because they hadn’t discussed it outside his heat addled state of mind.)

But Oscar presented a long time before Logan. That’s normal, alphas usually present from 13-15 while omegas present later from 16-18 since their bodies need longer to mature and develop to the point when a heat, knotting, and pregnancy would be biologically viable. Same with boys getting their secondary sex characteristics before girls in puberty.

So by the time Oscar helps Logan through his first heat and tastes the milky scent of pup hood melting off his sweet marshmallow scent, Oscar has already been having semi annual ruts for several years. But when an alpha hits 18 or so those ruts get more intense. The last phase of alpha biology setting in as the prefrontal cortex develops, suddenly your rut is less about your pleasure and more about the biological need of an alpha to protect, provide, and satisfy.

Oscar is no stranger to that focus, not a single rut has gone by when he hasn’t had Logan front and center in his mind. What it might be like to be mated. What gifts he could shower him with when courting. What his scent could be like when he finally presents as an omega. Because Oscar knows his body has already chosen Logan as his future mate. Knows all his urges and needs will be hardwired not just to him but to his omega.

But he also knows that’s no excuse to act like a knot head and pretend that just because he’s an alpha he can’t control himself. He was raised better and is proud of it. But he also knows that first rut of maturity is usually one spent with a partner because it’s harder on the body. And that he could never have another omega, especially in his rut. He wants Logan, his instincts want Logan. Nothing and no one else will do.

Except, maybe one thing. Oscar knows omegas build nests of scents they find comforting. Lord knows he’s given Logan enough hoodies over the years to be aware. Without an omegas best for comfort he won’t have any of that. So when he’s preparing for this heat he decides that just because it’s ungentlemanly to involve a newly presented omega who has no real romantic affection for him into his heat, doesn’t mean he has to go completely self soothing.

This decision has nothing at all to do with the fact that he gets so desperate in the days leading up to his rut to just be in Logan’s presence that he seriously thinks if he can’t trick his body into thinking it has Logan during a rut he might actually do something crazy. Like attempt to get to and claim the omega in some kind of haze. So really when he sneaks into Logan’s driver room two days before his rut it’s for safety.

Totally not because all the other panties he’s been slowly stockpiling for this heat have already lost Logan’s scent. It’s not his fault that when Oscar puts them in his pocket after helping Logan out with his mouth they always end up wrapped around Oscar’s dick.

It would just be improper to walk around the f2 facilities with such a raging hard on.

And besides it only started because he realized Logan was so wet after that his already soaked panties left him uncomfy when he had to sit in them for the rest of the day. Oscar’s alpha instincts moved without his consent and next thing he knows he’s purchased a few dozen of the world’s prettiest panties from Victorias Secret.

Him alpha always rumbled in contentment when an out of breath freshly pleasured Logan newly freed of his migraine would finish shaking from his final orgasm and blush so sweetly as Oscar slid a dry pair of panties over his dripping cunt before they cuddle and scent.

The first time Logan had gotten up to look for his panties before Oscar had growled and gotten on his knees before the omega to place a kiss right over the womb he would one day fill with pups and slips a scrap of baby blue lace right over his legs.

And Logan is so appreciative to have such pretty things gifted to him by his alpha. The baby blue is Oscar’s favorite bc it matches Logan’s eyes. But Logan offhandedly mentioned the light pink lace always made him feel better and more feminine after feeling so ill from his migraines.

Logan finds an entire drawer of baby pink thongs in his drivers room the next day. He blushes at the straps and crystals and embroidered kiss marks on some of them.

And Logan, overcome with what a wonderful alpha Oscar is going to be even though Logan will never be able to fully experience it, decided to indulge in a fantasy of his own.

Logan went to some Etsy store for football fans from the U.S. and placed a custom order that very day. A single pair of deep green panties, little more than a single triangle of green fabric in the front and a yellow thing string up the back that continues into the two tiny straps that circle his hips before bordering the green fabric in the front in yellow. Perfect inconspicuous aussie colors. Until you turned it over and saw Oscar’s racing number embroidered in bright yellow in the little fabric that would sit right over Logan’s tailbone.

Logan blushed the first time he saw it and decided it would be for his private time only so he had something that reminded him of his alpha even though Oscar could never really be his while he played with his knotting toys and thought about Oscar finally finishing the job.

But of course those panties are a secret so shameful he hides them in the bottom of his underwear drawer and is too shy to even put them in the wash for fear someone sees. So they sit in Logan’s drawer building layers of omega slick scent over the Aussie green and gold.

Meanwhile Oscar his literally been carrying around freshly washed panties in his pocket so anytime he eats Logan out Oscar can just slip them onto him afterwards. Hides the fact that he’s been stealing them even though Logan thinks he’s just so nice to wash them for him. Oscar can’t help himself, jacking off against the sweet scented lace and cumming over them is addictive. Almost as much as the act of cleaning those same panties only to slip them back onto Logan the next time he helps him out.

But now his stockpile is starting to wear off in scent and his rut is coming up so he’s going to need a new pair to get him through.

At first he goes to Logan’s hamper to get a fresh scent and picks a prema hoodies that undoubtedly once belonged to Oscar. Then he goes right to Logan’s underwear drawer to retrieve a perfect baby blue pair to put on Logan after their next escapade and retrieve before his rut.

He’s disgusted with himself. But really, it’s for safety purposes. Quickly in, quickly out. Grab a pair of panties. Simple. Easy.

Until his hand shoots to the back of the drawer and feels something wet and sinful.

Until Oscar nearly passes out at the sight of Aussie green and gold as the scent of melty marshmallows reaches his nose.

Until he flips that ring soiled scrap over two days out from his rut and sees his own damn driver number like a brand.