Name's Dmitri, call me Dim, or whatever suited you.
Things you need to know:
- I write whatever I want.
- I'm not good with small talks, and I'm not good in writing characters being in character either, so, please, expect OOC in my fic like expect forks in the kitchen.
- Most fanficitions of mine are probably be 18+, so, please, MDNI.
2. This blog accepts female readers as long as you're not fetishizing my fanfictions. If you interacted with my blog but you're a homophobic IRL, respectfully, fuck off from my blog.
3. I have a few fanfics resting on my draft, I'll post them once I have the time to do so.
Summary: After a team debrief, you found yourself talking with your teammate outside of your team's garage. It was supposed to be an innocent and friendly thing, but it couldn't be one since your teammate cannot stop ogling you like a lovestruck. Unbeknownst to you, Oscar didn't seem to like the way your teammate approached you.
Warnings: Warnings: porn with plot, Smut (18+), Sub!Oscar Piastri x Dom!male!reader, jealous!Oscar Piastri, clueless!reader, clingy!Oscar, soft!dom!reader, both you and your teammate's team is unspecified, your teammate is unspecified, ooc Oscar Piastri, established relationship, pet names, no mention of aftercare, handjob, riding, anal sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside, begging, breeding kink, degrading kink (if you squint enough), praise kink, no beta, no proofread.
"Are you kidding? That's obscene!" Your teammate muttered with arms crossed as he listened to your continuous ramble. It has always been like this, you ramble all the things you could talk about as a way to bond with your current teammate so that the F1's rivarly problem won't be that suffocating to bear.
Your teammate didn't mind it, in fact, he's quite too comfortable with your company and attention. He adored every piece of your expressions amidst your ramblings, he won't forget how you smiled at small things on your life and how you laugh at your own jokes even if it doesn't even sound that funny to laugh about.
Honestly, you do notice the way his eyes gleamed brightly as he listened, anticipating your opinions, and him licking his lips in some occasions, but you prefer to shrug it off as an something normal for him to do. In the end, you both will gladly strangle each other's neck to win that trophy on race days, despite how many times the media wanted two drivers on the same team being painted as a "bromance".
Oh, poor him, he didn't knew that he's a few minutes away from digging his own grave.
Behind the two of you, lies Oscar lying his shoulder on the walls outside of his team's garage, arms crossed while glaring at both you and your poor teammate, his glare alone could pierce through your teammate and his jaw tightened in jealousy as he wondered on whatever the hell you both are talking about that made your teammate cannot stop his heart-eyes.
Oscar knew that he had to reach you out in order to get your attention, but he doubt he can even do that when he can't unshake the hot bubbling feeling on his stomach.
He's ready to risk it all. Afterall, it has been several hours since you two talked, and your boyfriend achingly miss talking to you, touching you—
His thoughts are halted by the sound of your engineer call out your teammate for a private discussion, your teammate excused himself and left you outside of the team's garage. You waved goodbye before looking around to see your boyfriend glaring at you from afar.
When Oscar noticed you staring and waved at him, he slowly approached you, face remain unchanged. He cleared his throat and quipped, "You seem quite comfortable with that guy."
You cocked your head to the side in confusion and raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he truly emphasized on that, "What? We're just talking."
Oscar rolled both of his eyes at your obliviousness, he doubts that you're serious, he thought that you're just messing with him to rile him up even further.
"Talking?" he paused, "Never knew eyefucking during talks is a deliberate dig in this paddock."
You frowned, more confused than you were. Before you could interject, your engineer called your name from afar, telling you to test the waters of your car's engine for the race, you excused yourself from Oscar with a wave, leaving Oscar no choice but to return to his own team garage.
Maybe Oscar became way too petty than he should've.
He should've been proud of you accomplishing P1, but he can't, not when he can't shrug off the same feeling he had when he saw you and your teammate on the garage earlier.
As the Australian driver follow you two from behind, he couldn't stand what he was seeing. He tried to remain a stoic expression so that the media would suspect anything. It was a success, not until he saw your teammate immediately sweep you off of your feet to wrap his hand around your waist, that truly is a nail in the coffin for Oscar.
Your boyfriend tried all his best to keep himself cool-headed, but he couldn't ignore the resurfacing hot bubbles on his stomach, he really do want to punch that guy. Instead, he approached himself beside you and wrap one of his hand around your waist a little bit tighter than he anticipated, making your side body lean closer towards your boyfriend more.
You cleared your throat awkwardly and pulled your teammate closer so that the cameraman could finally take a photo of you two and you can deal your boyfriend a bit earlier.
After the post-race interviews. You and your teammate walk towards your team's motorhome to finally take a break on each respective driver's room. You reached your driver's room's doorknob to unlock the door and closing it behind you. To your surprise, Oscar has been waiting for you, sitting on the soft leather cushion sofa, arms crossed and obvious stern on his face.
You raised both of your eyebrows and stepped closer towards Oscar. Without a beat, Oscar swooped you until you're on the couch. The Australian straddled your thighs as he wrap his arms around your neck and kiss your face feverishly. You couldn't help but to feel quite ticklish at his sudden antics, you stopped him by cupping his cheek with your free hand, your murmured, "Hey, hey, slow down, what's gotten onto you, love?"
Oscar scoffed at your fraud innocence, but he couldn't help to feel that his body is getting hotter and his cheeks flushed at your touch, he wrapped his arms around your neck and asked, "You seriously didn't notice the way your teammate acted?"
"Like what, exactly? He was just being himself."
"He looked at you as if you're the love of his life, not to mention his sudden clinginess post-race."
"Was he the clingy one or you?"
"Why are you on his side?!"
You laughed softly at his antics, making your boyfriend pout at you not taking him seriously. Oscar Jack Piastri might haven't show many expressions on cameras, but behind closed doors? He's not slick at all.
"Oscar, love," You chuckled, "You do know that you need to tell me when you're jealous, right?"
Oscar snickered, "Me? Jealous? Please."
You quirked a brow, "What else would it be? You wouldn't be this mopey if you're not jealous."
That words alone shut Oscar up, and his face got redder and hotter as his gaze darted everywhere but your eyes, his throat tightened, as if he's unable to express himself.
"May I?" You asked while toying with the waistband of his pants, earning an eager nod from your already desperate boyfriend. You unbuckled your boyfriend's pants, as his cock sprung out and felt the cold air of your driver's room, you start to stroke him at an eager pace while occasionally teasing the tip with your thumb, earning you spilled whines and pleas in between strokes.
"Faster-ah! Faster, please..." Oscar moaned clenching his arms and legs around you as his stomach burned, anticipating his orgasm.
You obeyed and stroke him quicker, making him begging to come.
"I-I'm so close, please let me cum..." Oscar stammered, making you tease, "Begging already? Didn't know you're that easy to please."
Oscar whined in protest as his mind foggy from your strokes and his urge to ejaculate. Once you let him, he spurted out his load and let out a long moan as the orgasm hit him like a fierce truck, his load covering your hand and his Mclaren suit that would definately need to be washed as soon as possible.
Once he already rode out his orgasm, he pulled away slightly to stare at you with his glassy puppy-eyes, the one you unable to resist.
"Can I please ride you?" He plead.
"Are you sure? Don't you have media to shoot later?"
"Don't care, please, just fuck me..."
That made you more aroused than before, you nodded in agreement and unzipped your pants, letting your boyfriend lined himself up your cock and letting it slowly inserting tight entrance. Oscar's arms scrambled to touch your bare back, his thighs tremble as he feel your tip touching his rim.
"Shit, look at you, taking me so well..." You hissed as your boyfriend slowly sink down onto your lap as he latch his mouth onto your neck to stifle his broken moans as your girth slowly tear him apart, letting you fill him to the hilt, making his fingers claw your back.
Once your boyfriend fully bottomed out, you both stayed there for awhile, letting him adjust to your length, groaning everytime he clench around your cock. You cupped Oscar's cheek and leaned closer to give him a heated-desperate kiss as you use your free hand to grope your boyfriend's pale thigh, guiding him to lift up and then back down, earning whimpers spilled from your boyfriend's filthy mouth.
When you pulled away, he panted as he continuously lifting himself up and dropping down, letting out broken moans and arching his back as your tip successfully reached his prostate.
"There you go, such a good boy, fuck!" You groaned, a hand reached to grab a handful of his hair, making him whimper in pleasure and rolled his eyes as he continued to ride you while scratching your back, marking you as his.
"Hahh... please fill me up, want your cum in me..." He begged in between pants, making you grope his thighs again, forcing him to ride you faster, making him moan louder as slowly reach his second orgasm.
"Go on, cum for me, I'll fill you up." You growled once Oscar came sharply, his heat tightening around your shaft. You continued your harsh thrusts, overstimulating your boyfriend in the process.
In his post-orgasmic bliss, he sink his teeth onto the crook of your neck, marking you again. You came at that, you bit your bottom teeth as you let your spent filling him up to the brim, making the Australian whine at the sudden warm liquid on his entrance. He tightened his grip around your cock, making sure that all of your come is safe inside him.
Oscar pulled away and giggled drowsily as you pepper his shoulder with soft kisses.
"We should clean up, you know? We're in a mess right now." You muttered in between kisses.
"Mmh... please stay here for a few minutes, want to feel you longer." Oscar complained with a low murmur, forcing you to bask in the post-sex feeling.
Safe to say. On the next day, your boyfriend won't have to worry about your teammate gazing at you lovingly.
Oscar doubt your teammate can still do that when you're plastered with hickeys.
Summary: After a team debrief, you found yourself talking with your teammate outside of your team's garage. It was suposed to be an innocent and friendly thing, but it couldn't be one since your teammate cannot stop ogling you like a lovestruck. Unbeknownst to you, Oscar didn't seem to like the way your teammate approached you.
