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adventuringblind · 1 day

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The Thrill of It (1.8K Words)

LandOscar x Reader

Genre: Street Racer AU, Smut

Summary: Sometimes the boys come back from races a little riled up, it doesn't help tonight that they get a bit possessive when someone lays a hand on what's theirs.

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, public sex, exhibitionist Lando, Sub reader, Dom Oscar, Oral, face-fucking, Hair pulling (?), minor degradation, Oscar being stressed after because AFTERCARE IS IMPORTANT OKAY

Notes: I'm back! Did you miss me? I think this is the most lewd smut I've ever done... But reminder that comments and filling my inbox with nice things motivates me to write!!

Side Note: MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!! ADULT CONTENT AHEAD!!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The lights amongst the crowd flitted about in shades of neon. The people are rowdy tonight on the sides of the street. All of them handing off their cash to each other to bet on which driver they think will win.

It’s a dangerous game with no medic on scene. She supposes that’s the thrill of it. Knowing there may be no return once they put their foot on the pedal.

Lando and Oscar are practically swimming in the cash now. While she isn’t in the spotlight, they certainly are. These are their streets. They know Woking like the back of their hands now.

Lando says he drives by feeling where Oscar has a map of the turns memorized. It speaks volumes about their character.

You’d think these idiots would stop betting so much on other drivers. She’s been here enough times to know they never learn. Always lured into a false sense of hope. She doesn’t mind it, simply finds it funny.

She finds herself entranced by the sounds of the engines, the people chanting their names. She sees other people oggle the two, hands becoming a bit more than friendly as the night progresses and alcohol is consumed.

A car pulls below her hiding spot. The second car driven, a truck she can sit in the bed of when things get overwhelming and the people too much.

Those friendly hands tend to slip when they see a pretty stranger. Boundary lines are crossed. Another thing they should know by now: Oscar and Lando are the kings of these streets and it’s best not to mess with their queen.

The bed of the truck shakes as they climb in with her. Their faces are half hidden in the dark. The other is illuminated by intermittent flashing lights.

Lando looks all too happy about the stunt he just pulled. A dangerous thing that could have killed him if not done right. The adrenaline has his pupils dilated. “Don’t think he’ll be coming back again. Gave him a run for his money… Liturgy!”

“Literally-”

“Yes, that’s what I meant - Literally!”

She tilts her head back and laughs. Drunk off the atmosphere of the night and maybe the fumes of whatever people have been smoking all night. “Scared him off then?”

“You know it baby!” Lando latches right onto her exposed neck with his teeth for all of two seconds before Oscar is dragging him off. It leaves them both whining. “Osc! I’m doing things!”

“You’re doing our things.” The dehumanizing language should not have her this hot and bothered, in Woking, in October. She’s wearing a skirt with nothing aside from panties underneath and one of Oscar’s zip-ups with a tank top. Not the best choice of clothing all things considered, but she could care less. Not when it gives them easy access when they are all riled up like this.

Oscar drags her into his lap. The feeling of strong thighs underneath her in almost the right spot has her whimpering. “Didn’t realize you’re already so needy for us darling. Forgot how much seeing us drive turns you on.”

She nearly cries when Oscar pulls her underwear to the side and slips a finger through her slit. “Look at this Lan! She’s a mess already!” Oscar’s free hand grips Lando by the collar and pulls him closer; nearly choking him out in the process. When his fingers are pulling obscene sounds from her, he brings them away. Up towards Lando’s mouth which unlatches to suck on them eagerly.

The Brits eyes roll back as Oscar jams four fingers down the back of his throat just for the sake of it. “S’pose you’ve earned it tonight, Lan. You’re already a mess anyhow and I think you’ve been leaking since you got out of the car.”

Lando mumbles something around Oscar’s fingers. It’s unintelligible - or she’s too lost in her haze to comprehend anything. Having slotted down on Oscar’s thigh to get some kind of friction.

The sound of Lando’s belt buckle coming undone becomes louder than the engines. Then the wet sound of lips clashing together. The hand Oscar previously had in Lando’s mouth is now around his neck.

The same story time and time again. Lando goes by feel where Oscar exudes superiority in how he has them memorized.

She clocks the hand on her waist moving to the back of her head. Oscar switches to kiss her instead. The filthy kind - all tongue and teeth. It keeps her occupied long enough for Lando to shimmy his boxers just far enough down.

“I knew you were leaking.” Lando makes a weak noise at that. Oscar’s words seem to have that effect on him. Both of them - really. “I bet you like showing off for all these people, huh? The possibility of us being caught like this. You get off on the thrill.”

The boys help her reposition her boy. Oscar gets two of his fingers in her, hovering just above Lando’s cock. Which - to Oscar’s credit - He’s not wrong. Lando is leaking like a faucet that has a consistent drip. It is mesmerizing and should be illegal.

Oscar gets a third in her, dutifully stretching her open despite having to support her weight. Lando thrusts into the air out of impatience which earns a lovely smack to the side of his ass. “You should know better, Love, that all good things come with time.”

She feels empty for all of two seconds before her body is plunging down onto Lando’s cock. She can feel him twitching behind her - trying to remain still until given the go-ahead to move. His hands paw at the slope of her back and curve of her ass.

In front of her, Oscar is undoing his own belt. She should’ve realized sooner how he had positioned them. How the truck bed is conveniently long enough to let Lando work out his residual energy by thrusting into her while Oscar makes use of her mouth.

He’s always three moves ahead of them.

She leans down, ready for him without him even having to ask. “Spit,” He commands. She does it without hesitation.

Oscar makes use of the makeshift lube and gives himself a few strokes before motioning her forward. She unhinges her jaw and relaxes her throat and still - she gags.

“See Lando, patience works wonders.”

“Please Osc, please - I’m dying over here-”

“Go ahead baby, you’ve earned it.” Oscar chuckles.

They find a rhythm. When one is going in, the other is going out. She’s drooling all down the exposed skin Oscar is showing.

“Best. Fucking. Reward. Ever~” Lando punctuates each word with a particularly hard thrust. The sounds are ridiculous and they are lucky that the sound of engines revving is drowning them out. If anyone is watching - well - they are certainly getting a show.

Oscar’s voice cracks. “Fucking hell, you two look so good.” She concludes the walls of his resolve are starting to crumble. That the grip she has on his waist to ground herself is enough to make him snap and throw him over the edge.

“You like the show, Osc.”

“You could say that.”

Lando likes to be seen and Oscar likes to watch. She likes everything in-between that. To be the object of their affections and an element of desire. Something they covet enough to lose themselves like this.

Everything gets messier - if that was even possible. Oscar snaps his head back and grips the back of her head so he can hold her stead and fuck her throat. Lando grips her hips and sets an unrelenting pace. Each movement is sloppier than the last. Each moan is more pitched.

She swallows. Her throat constricts enough for Oscar to growl from somewhere deep and sum without any warning. The tears are streaming down her face as she gags on the new and sudden change of consistency.

He drags her off and gives her no time to recover. Simply lunging forward and nearly sending her crashing backwards onto Lando. His hand goes back to the Brits throat while his tongue goes so deep into her mouth that there is no way he can’t taste himself.

Lando is a mess of high pitched whines. “Please - please I’m close-”

She inhales desperately as Oscar unlatches from her mouth only to find the sensitive spot on her exposed collarbone. “Osc-”

“I could keep you two like this forever. Desperate and whiny. Leaking with the thought of how good it would feel to cum.” They are both letting out desperate sounds. “I bet that guy from earlier would have stayed away then. So consumed by us that he could smell it on you.”

“Yesyesyes - please-” She’s going to lose her mind. Lando might be closer than she is and yet he won’t slow down. There is nothing but this until Oscar tells them yes. Because it feels better waiting for it.

And Lando will always go by feel.

“You’ve earned it Lando, fill our girl up yeah? Make her cry harder.”

Oscar has to cover her mouth as everything goes white. Her ears are ringing - swimming in the sounds of their voices and nothing else. It’s white hot blissful nothing. No thoughts or anxieties, no worries about some guy making passes at her.

Here she knows the two men who want nothing but to see her smile and cry for their cocks. Which is a stark contrast considering - but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oscar recovers the quickest. Swiftly jumping out of the truck bed to grab their extra blanket and hoodies. “I can’t really clean you two up yet, but will this do for now?” He shifts his weight between feet. Normally more prepared, ready to meet the needs of physical pains and emotional needs that come with the aftermath.

They both nod and excitedly wait for him to climb back up. “That… was amazing,” she laughs. Her voice broken and hoarse from her throat being used.

Oscar winces. “I need to get you some water.”

“Osc-”

“Yeah.”

“Relax! It felt good! It was great and we’re okay.” Lando gestures to the two who can barely move. Bodies still twitching from the overwhelming sensations. “Now we shall bask in the glory that is the ridiculous amount of cash we made tonight!”

“What are you gonna spend it on?”

“You, of course!” Oscar leans her into his side as Lando throws an arm around her shoulders for good measure.

Cars begin to drive past. Leaving for the night either to wherever they are staying or another race. They wave off some of the familiar faces and flip off the annoying ones. Yeah - she wouldn’t have it any other way.

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strawberry-daiquiris · 2 days

Note

i just need you to know that all of these ~water adventure oscar~ photos have me thirsting for a salt skin part 2. maybe he and lando decide to take to the sea ? i don’t know. i’m just spit balling. and this is ZERO pressure! i just wanted you to know im thinking of you and your boys! (plus my fave photo from the set!!)

this photo was intense immediate salt skin vibes for me! the concerned look on his face, the clutching hand on the towel, the person captivating him off camera.

i haven't done much meta around them because that fic still feels a bit sacred - i wrote it all in one sitting, more or less, and felt a bit like i'd been drowned in the ocean/dehydrated on a rock when i finally stood up off the sofa.

i've always thought that afterwards, lando would become oscar's very curious, slightly violent wag, flitting all ethereal around the paddock charming people then threatening to rip their throats out if they so much as hinted a threat at oscar. everyone would know there was something weird about him, they could just never really guess what. except for maybe zak brown lol still don't ask me what i was getting at with that weird hint of a side plot.

anyway here's a little 900 word snapshot of their morning before this picture would have been taken in the saltskin universe!

tw for them being bloodthirsty sirens and also displaying slightly coercive behaviour!!!

_________________________

“Are you going to put SPF on?”

Oscar hangs back against the bathroom door, rubbing a stubborn patch of lotion into the dry skin at the side of his nose. On the floor, Lando is rooting under the bed for something, his naked arse pointing Oscar’s direction. It still gets him, even now, how weirdly Lando moves his human body, whipping around slightly too fast, fixing Oscar with a stare that’s a little ethereal.

“I’m a merman, Oscar. I don’t need frickin’ SPF.”

”Were.” Oscar emphasises with his hands, chucking the tube onto the floor next to Lando. He flinches from it like Oscar’s thrown a grenade, or a fishing line. “You were a merman, and now you’re not, so…”

He points out the window to the baking hot sun. It’s a free weekend in Monaco, time to take the boat out into the furthest reaches of the bay so Lando can dive under the water for longer than it should be possible to hold his breath.

“SPF.”

Lando grimaces, poking at the tube with his foot, trying to roll it under the bed to its final resting place next to whatever he’d been looking for. He treats the underneath of the bed like a cave, hoarding things there. It’s fine, and Oscar doesn’t mind, until it’s something important, like his passport, or the car keys.

”Lando, don’t make me do it.”

Oscar turns back to the bathroom mirror, sighing when he realises he’s still got a glob of white on his nose. He pauses, listening for the squelch of cream on soft skin, but it doesn’t come.

”Lando,” he starts, and he hears a groan as his voice curls out of the bathroom, tantalisingly soft as it creeps away from him. Oscar has learnt how to control it, how to target the power towards a person, or an object. It’s not the only reason there’s trophies on his shelves and a different coloured team wear in his wardrobe, but it’s one of the biggest. “Put on the sunscreen.”

He hears the cap pop, the heavy weight of Lando’s footsteps as he comes closer, standing naked in the doorway squirting it on his chest. It’d be hot, if it weren’t for the scowl.

”I hate you,” Lando spits, tongue more pointed than usual, the tops of his ears going red like they want to spike, fighting the siren rage.

Maybe it’s hot because of the scowl.

Oscar only smiles, wrapping an arm around his stomach and holding him against the door frame, fingers working some of the cream into the scarred skin that used to be gills, shiny silvery purple like stretch marks. When he comes to a stop, he looks at his hand, pale against the tan of Lando’s skin. Ever since he came out of the ocean, he’s had webbing at the base of his fingers. Not enough to be noticeable unless you really look. Take it in alongside his slightly lighter eyes, and his sharper fingernails. Surface changes to the eye, but rooted far deeper than that, somewhere in Oscar’s DNA.

”No, you don’t,” Oscar whispers, and he doesn’t need to use his powers for this, needs nothing more than the press of his lips against the side of Lando’s face, where he’s finally starting to grow something that looks like facial hair. “You love me.”

Lando squirms, but Oscar has the upper hand. More strength in his thighs, more defined muscles in his chest. He’s not fighting a monster now. He is one.

”Don’t.”

Oscar smiles, twisting Lando so their faces are pressed so close he can smell the salt on Lando’s breath. Strong like he’s been swilling sea water, even after he’s brushed his teeth.

”You do, you love me,” Oscar insists, and Lando shakes his head. Oscar rests his fingers along Lando’s scars again, scraping the pointy bits of his nails along the soft, new skin until Lando shivers, whimpering, pleading. Tame. “You wished for me.”

Lando grabs Oscar’s arm, wraps his strong, long fingers around his wrist and tugs, heaving breaths like he’s just gulped down a lungful of water.

“You did,” Oscar insists, the hand Lando didn’t grab scratching deeper, until the scars start to pinken. It turns Lando on, every time, still sensitive with an erogenous zone unique only to him. “Say it.”

”I wished for you,” Lando blurts, and Oscar lets go, stepping back out of his space triumphantly. Still, Lando reaches for him, sliding his hands under Oscar’s t-shirt, feeling the muscles, pulling him close. His voice is softer, when he speaks again, more like the boy who dazzled him in the water, tempted him close to death. “You know I wished for you.”

Oscar kisses Lando’s forehead, holds him as he rests against his chest, so much skin on display, so much vulnerability. He can tell the moment it takes them both, remembering how lonely they were, how much they loathed the absence of this, even when they didn’t know what this was.

“I know,” Oscar whispers, letting his hand fall to the curve of Lando’s waist, and the small ridge where his tail used to start, the one you can feel if you know where to touch. Eczema, Oscar has taught Lando to claim, if anyone asks why his skin looks like the surface of a rock, weathered by a storm. “I know.”

They stay that way until the SPF starts to dry, tacky, on Lando’s skin and Oscar has to push him away before they’re bound by more than just the sea.

”Put some clothes on, Lando,” Oscar says, brushing past him to leave for the kitchen, pack a cool box with raw meat they don’t eat anywhere but home, the boat and any restaurant with carpaccio on the menu. “The boat’s not going to sail itself.”

#GOD I LOVE THE BLOODTHIRSTY LITTLE MONSTERS!!!!#Both changed in different ways #Weirdly nervous about this because that fic sometimes feels like it was written by someone Not Me lmao #my fic #salt skin #landoscar #strawberry.ask

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