𝓜EDDLE 𝓐BOUT
oscar piastri x f!reader (6.8k)
─── 𝔀arnings ⌗ smut 18+ (sex to get even, semi public sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, blowjobs, handjob, fingering, minimal praise kink, kinda mean and condescending dom!oscar, dry humping, reader grinds on the table, sex on a desk, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), some very light degredation i think ... not beta'ed sorry)
it was all because of stupid oscar piastri.
the tension between you two wasn't just palpable; it was a physical weight in the engineering lecture halls. you were both top of your class, and when mclaren announced a singular 12-month engineering internship spot for your university, the rivalry turned nuclear. he was infuriating, constantly undercutting your technical arguments in design reviews with that calm, maddeningly precise logic of his, all while throwing little smirk filled glances your way that made you want to throw your drafting compass at his perfectly composed face. he’d make comments—soft, cutting remarks that only you could hear—and delight in the way your face would heat up in frustration.
the incident that got you both stuck in the quiet study room after hours for "academic misconduct"—because apparently, shouting about CFD simulations in the library constitutes a disturbance—was just the tipping point.
you were trying to finish your final design specs so you could go home and finally relax, but the sound of his pen clicking rhythmically against the wooden table two spots away was vibrating through your skull.
he infuriated you to your core and you can't even pinpoint the exact reason, though there were, in fact, a lot of reasons that annoyed you about him. and maybe, just maybe, it was the way he kept throwing comments at you in class and the way you scowled at him before throwing the marker at his stupid face, or the way he constantly calls you those disgusting pet names and relishes in getting under your skin because he thinks your reactions are funny, or the way you had your knee in between his thighs the other day, threatening to cut his dick off if he ever bothered you again, only for you to be left fuming because he took one look at your threat as a cute challenge.
(or maybe, it was that one time you kissed him in the dark at some random's house party and the way he was never going to let you live it down.)
you hate him, you despise him, and you absolutely fucking loathe him for existing and breathing the same air as you. unfortunately today, your ego had just about enough to the point that it got both you and him in trouble—or, as the department head called it, the self study room—for "academic misconduct"
so now you're stuck here, trying to get the last of your design specifications done so you could go home and binge the entirety of your new favourite show without the guilt of pending assignments lingering in the back of your head. the sound of a pen clicking over and over again against the wooden desk two tables away from where you are currently seated irritates you.
your fingers grip the corners of your textbook, the page scrunching under your touch. you try to regain your composure; you let out a heavy sigh before plastering the best fake smile you could muster before turning to him.
oscar meets your eyes and he's already smiling, eyes twinkling with amusement.
"please, will you stop making those noises," you weren't asking; it was a demand. "i am trying to get my work done. i don't know what the hell your deal is, oscar, but you better stop it."
his lips curl into a smirk now. you feel like punching him again. "yes, ma'am," he says while laying the pen down, flicking it and allowing it to roll off the table. your eyes follow the object before they fly back to the boy, whose attention is now on some girl from a group of students who are also in the study room. annoying fuck , you think.
feeling like he's some deranged vampire who has sucked every life energy out of your body, you huff yet again before stabbing your own pen into your braided hair twist before gathering your things, and heading out of the room. you're loud. you're not exactly sure why you're slamming your hand or your book shut or deliberately taking out your frustrations on your school things but fuck this punishment, and definitely fuck oscar piastri. your father could buy this school and his ass out in seconds anyway.
oscar's eyes burn into you as you do this. you're aware and you want him to see it—want him to see how infuriating his existence is to you, and how many alarms he sets off in your body. you do not miss the way his blurry figure gets up from his seat in your peripheral view, and that's when you know you got him.
it's only a few minutes later when you realise the thuds coming from your prada loafers are the only ones resonating throughout the hallways of the university. you stop for a bit, your mind debating whether you should look back, but alas, your body betrays you, turning you around to scan the floors and staircases for a glimpse of him. he was there earlier, you could've sworn so.
before you can gather your thoughts rationally, you find your heels dragging you back to the library, poking your head through the glass window and straining your neck in order to have a better look around. he's nowhere to be found.
"looking for me, angel?"
you flinch, almost screaming before the realisation dawns on you that only one jackass would do this. god, help me , you thought. but because of the way you spun around to shove him for his piss behaviour, he swiftly garners the chance to pin your wrist above your head.
"ew, don't touch me. i'm getting a cramp," oscar chuckles as you yank your arm free from his grip.
"i don't bite, princess," you meet his eyes, drinking in the mischief that swirls around his dark eyes. "unless you're into that."
your breath hitches in your throat as you try to level it down. you hadn't noticed the way you've been holding in your breath, and you don't understand why you're fighting the slow crawl of pink creeping up your cheeks. the arrogant smirk on his face doesn't falter for a second and you're already thinking of a haughty remark.
the realisation hits you like a truck when you catch up to the observation that anyone with half a brain could mistake you both as a couple with the way he suddenly inches closer, his hot breath fanning your skin. you gulp and you pray he didn't notice.
you were not about to show oscar piastri that he had some stupid effect on you; over your dead fucking body.
you don't know why you're making it difficult for yourself, honestly. there's a way out for you; he hasn't trapped you between him and the wall completely, so you don't know why you're taking up his petty challenge and willingly allowing yourself to suffer.
"aren't you going to apologise to me, baby? you broke my face." he feigns being hurt with his free hand caressing your cheek. you glare at him, swatting it away.
"all this trouble for an apology? just say you're obsessed with me and go." you reply, inwardly cringing at the way your voice shook. oscar shrugs and you decide that this isn't worth your time anymore, and you knew that he wouldn't bite back either. so you begin to walk away.
oscar piastri was full of shit and you knew it first hand.
immediately, you feel a hand on your waist, pulling you and pinning you firmly back in place. you instinctively moan when you feel his knee prop up to your core, successfully trapping you. your eyes widen when you realise and your hands fly up to your mouth. the boy towering over you grins, incredibly amused at the reaction you just made. oscar switches his arm for the other, resting it on the wall next to your head. you were turning red. hands curling into a fist with your fingernails digging crescent moons into your skin that were sure to bleed.
oscar lowers his head down to the shell of your ear. "look at you," he says, huskily. his voice is low and you hate the way you can't avoid the blooming pit in your stomach. "you always fall apart at the thought of me. you say you can't stand me but your body language says otherwise. what will everyone think of this when they find out, hm?"
your breath hitches in your throat as you stare him down.
god, he's so close he could kiss you and you might just let him. might.
but you know you wouldn't. you're too stubborn to give in to your desires. you were always hellbent on not becoming like those stupid girls who looked like they were close to dropping their panties after oscar piastri gave them a smidge of his attention.
"listen here, you arsehole," you grit your teeth as your fingers curl around his shirt, bunching it up in your hand before yanking him to your eye level. "i don't know what sick game you're playing but you need to stay the hell away from me, piastri."
"scared you'll come crawling back for more?"
you snort. "as if."
"i'm not the one who just moaned at the mere contact of cold concrete against my skin and force,"
"true. but i'm not the one whining for a video call every night, am i?" there's something in him that flickers and you know you had the cards in your favour when you brought it up. because now, oscar's pulling you by your elbow and dragging you up the staircase leading towards the rooftop.
you don't get the chance to speak when he aggressively pushes you against the wall and pushes you down on your knees. you moan out of instinct, pain settling in and pleasure striking like lightning.
"do you want us to get caught?" you run your hands further up his clothed thigh. your fingers pass over his erection and to his fly.
"maybe.”
"god, i hate your ass."
oscar stands over you while you undo his button, pull down the zipper, and tug his pants down about halfway. his eyes are fixated on you while you do this. "and i love yours."
your eyes roll at his response but you appreciate it nonetheless. you can't help but think how fictional worthy your positions look like right now—getting ready to give your literal internship rival the best blow of his life as if he didn't just give you three orgasms the other night. you prop yourself up a bit, leaning towards the erection that's straining through his boxer briefs. you kiss the head of his cock through the cotton. oscar is sensitive, dick twitching upon your kiss, and your breath feels hot against all the fabric.
"(your name)..."
you pull his boxers down shamelessly, letting his erection free. you sigh with a bit of performance. "you know, it's kind of a shame," you say, "if i had only known that mouth of yours was good for something else other than pissing me off, i would've been better off with you."
"was this why you kept looking for me the other day, angel? finally bored with that situationship you keep posting about? i told you, princess—fuck, i love your mouth—i already told you i was better," he fishes, and you lick a stripe up his shaft before flattening your tongue on the tip of his cock. "and i did make you come more than he ever did during that night." he breathes.
you don't say anything else, slipping your mouth over the tip of his. your tongue feels wet and so hot, swirling just around the head of oscar's cock, pretty lips pressed against him. you pause to spit on your palm before beginning to work gentle strokes down his shaft. it's good, and for a little second, all he can think about is how he wants you to take him further into your warm, wet throat. you move slowly, your tongue almost teasing. the anticipation is intense.
"osc," you say as your hand works around his dick, massaging his balls occasionally. you stare up at him through your dark lashes, with those eyes you know that gets him going—and the boy's heart stops as you press another long kiss to his cock and say, "i like you like this. you look so pretty."
you punctuate your words by taking him into your mouth, deeply—your tongue moving flat and firm against the underside of his shaft, hand squeezing the base of him. the feeling overwhelms him and he moans—well, it's a whimper, but the sound is honest.
you go down once, and take your mouth back off of him to say, "i've been thinking of us like this. in this same exact position."
jesus christ, oscar thinks you're out to kill him.
you speak some more, "do you think about me like this?"
"always," he manages as you flatten your tongue against the tip of his cock. oscar heaves before you and you hum, loving the reaction—and to rile him up some more. a hand goes through your hair, strands falling from the makeshift bun you made with the pencil earlier, as you slide your mouth over his cock. oscar doesn't have the words to articulate how good your mouth feels around him; how good you use your tongue while you move your head; how you're so hot, and how you want him. how you've been thinking about this—about him. his head's gone wild and it electrifies the slick heat of your lips, your tongue. fuck, oscar thinks. he's in heaven.
the ache in your knees begins to stir as you imagine the purples, blues, and greens forming bubbles of bruises on your flesh. a groan flies out of your lips when you lift one to move it aside, creating a gap between legs.
"you okay?" oscar's voice rings in your ear and you think it's sweet that he asked.
"don't worry about me, baby. i'm more than okay."
your free hand, the one that's been caressing the boy's clothed thigh up and down, snakes away to disappear under your skirt. the slick noise that pokes out underneath almost makes oscar choke.
"you're—ah—," he pants, and you look up at him. "fuck. that's so fucking hot. keep—keep touching yourself, princess. my sweet girl."
you moan around him, like you're really getting off on this, not letting up for a moment. he moans louder in return, just so you'll hear him, just so you'll keep touching herself. it's hot. it's so hot. you both don't even care anymore.
you rock against your own hand as you swallow his cock, messy and fast, and it's starting to overwhelm him in a way he desperately wants to give in to.
before he can truly consider it, he tugs on your hair, and says, "(your name)—stop—,"
you meet his eyes, and there's a moment where he doesn't think you will. and he can't remember why he wanted you to.
but you do, sliding your mouth excruciatingly slowly off of his cock, your tongue feeling every inch of him on the way.
"shit." he shudders, missing your mouth badly as the cool air hits the spit drying on his cock. "you drive me crazy."
"i want you to come for me," you whisper, and he hisses, still closer to the edge than he wants.
you're moving so relentlessly that it's hard for him to track the sound of your fingers rubbing your clit, so he tries to focus on the difficult task of cumming, instead of the distracting, maddening slick heat of your cunt.
very quickly it becomes too much. embracing the point of no return, he drives his hips up to meet up yours and groans the moment the head of his cock meets the back of your throat, loving the way you gag around him.
he comes so hard he can't think.
oscar's digs his hands into your scalp and moans, head thrown back against the window, sweat sticking his hair to his neck as he loses himself inside your mouth. he loses count of the hot pulses of cum that rush through him.
you release him with a pop before licking another stripe up to the head and giving it a kiss. he tells you to open your mouth and you do, sticking out your tongue to show that you've swallowed all of him.
"that's my girl."
"i hope that was okay, though," you say after a while and he runs his thumb over your cheek, where your tears have dried.
oscar curls down to kiss you, hard, and it's not enough. you sigh and you force yourself to stand, ignoring the pain on your knees, and shimming up to his body. he clings to you, pressing his mouth into every part of you he can reach, as if he's never been able to kiss you before. he wants to laugh with the feeling of just getting something he wants. and whether oscar has realised it or not, he wants nothing else but you.
and so, oscar barely gives you a moment to breathe, haphazardly tucking himself back into his trousers with a frantic, uncharacteristic edge to his movements. he doesn't wait for you to stand properly; he simply grabs your hand, his grip firm and possessive, and drags you out of the rooftop, up the final flight of stairs to a desolate, quiet academic floor. he navigates the hallway with purpose until he finds an empty classroom, kicking the door shut behind you with a sharp thud that echoes in the stillness. he locks it, the click of the latch final and heavy.
he turns back to you, his eyes dark with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. he marches toward you, hoisting you up onto the heavy wooden desk meant for a lecture. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, locking him into place.
"you think you'll have me at the palm of your hands like that without getting any back? think again, bunny," he murmurs against your lips, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low growl that vibrates against your skin.
he doesn't wait for an answer, his mouth crashing onto yours with a relentless, hungry urgency. his hands are everywhere—tangling in your hair, sliding down to press firmly against your lower back, and beginning to undo the fastenings of your uniform with clumsy, heated determination. every touch is a claim, and as he undresses you, he peppers your neck and jawline with sharp, stinging kisses, leaving you breathless and completely at his mercy in the dim, empty classroom.
your moans spill out, ragged and breathless, each sound a testament to the absolute hold he has over you. they are music to his ears, high-pitched gasps and soft whimpers fueling the fire in his eyes as he hears the effect he’s having. he thrives on the noise, tilting his head to catch every ragged breath you take, his hands mapping the curve of your thighs with a possessive, grounding pressure.
"that's it," he rasps, his composure completely shattered as he presses his body flush against yours, his hands roaming over your skin with a mixture of worship and urgency. every time you cry out, his grip tightens, his movements becoming more deliberate and demanding, as if he's trying to etch his claim into you.
he loves the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer as if you can't get enough, your encouragement pouring out of you in a symphony of desperate, uninhibited pleas.
your mind's a haze of a lot of things; your anger that has dissipated moments ago, his confidence as he touches you like you're the only girl ever, his stupid smirk that you can feel ghosting against the pulse of your throat, and the way he's gotten under your skin that you've allowed so willingly. it infuriates you, and yet.
yet, your fingers tangle firmly into his hair, pulling him closer, bringinv him to the sensitive juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. you need him right there, against your collarbone, as he traces the line of your throat with his lips and grazes his teeth over your skin, sending sharp jolts of electricity straight through your nervous system. his touch is overwhelming, his palms hot and heavy against your skin making the world outside this room feel frozen and distant.
"please—," you breathe out, the word fracturing as he intentionally rolls his hips against your core. the friction is agonisingly good, the lingering dampness from your earlier release making your nerves scream for more. "oscar, don't tease." you choke out the plea, your voice rising into a desperate, needy whine as you press your body forward, instinctively chasing the rough, unforgiving heat of his denim against your center.
but oscar just chuckles against your skin, his eyes dark with beautiful cruelty. he knows exactly how much you crave the contact, and he denies you the steady rhythm you’re begging for. he shifts just enough to break the pressure, dragging his hips away whenever you lean in, leaving you hollow and shivering in his grip. he thrives on the way you unravel under the deprivation, his hands roaming over your hips to hold you steady while he keeps you right on the edge, hands sliding under your blouse, exploring hot skin while teetering over the lined edge of your bra.
the friction of his denim against your thighs is driving you to the brink of insanity, a maddening, abrasive contrast to the liquid heat pooling between your legs. you let out a low, involuntary whine, your head falling back and then forward, burying your face into the crook of his neck. you trace the line of his jaw and his pulse point with desperate, fluttering kisses, your movements frantic and uncoordinated.
he's gone now and slid the very hand he had been using to further explore the skin under your top down to under the hem of your skirt, teasing and brushing past your bikini line. you flinch with a spike of pure, raw need. oscar's fingers map the damp, aching contours of your folds through the thin fabric of your cotton panties, providing just enough pressure to make you gasp, yet he pulls away before you can find any relief.
"please, please—," you try to form a coherent sentence, but the words dissolve into broken, gasping fragments. your voice is thin and strained, lacking any of the haughty defiance you usually wield against him. you are reduced to nothing but raw nerve endings and incoherent pleas, begging for the very thing he is so meticulously denying you.
oscar watches you with that infuriating, observing stillness, his brown eyes tracking every tremor that runs through your body. he lets out a soft, dismissive tut, his thumb pressing firmly against the center of your ache through the cotton, but again, he doesn't break the seal.
"patience, angelface," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with a promise that feels both like a threat and a reward. "i'll make you feel good too."
he leans in, his breath hot against your ear, and you can feel the smirk in his tone. he wants to hear you break completely; he wants to witness you losing your grip on your own pride until you are begging for his touch as if it’s the only thing that can keep you upright. he intentionally drags his knuckles along your sensitive inner thigh, his touch precise and calculated, deliberately stoking the fire until you are arching your back and clutching at his shoulders, your manicured nails digging into his skin as you wait for him to finally give in to the rhythm you’re so desperately chasing.
oscar leans in, his expression sharpening as he takes in your scrunched up, pleasure-contorted face and eyes fluttered shut. he closes the distance to swallow every whine and mewl against your lips, his tongue tangling with yours in a deep, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy.
as he holds you there, he finally dips his fingers inside your underwear, the sudden contact of his warm skin against your slick folds making your back arch off the desk. he spreads the moisture evenly across your folds, his touch deliberate and maddeningly slow before he begins rubbing your clit in steady, circular motions that send sharp waves of heat through your entire body.
you moan directly into his mouth, his name spilling out in a broken gasp alongside a desperate, "yes, please—god, finally—,”
ocar lets out a soft, mocking grin, his eyes glinting with a mix of gentle amusement and calculated dominance at your immediate reaction. "excited, aren't we? haven't given you my cock yet," he purrs into the crook of your neck, his voice a low, vibrating rumble against your skin. he moves away from your lips to plant a trail of burning kisses down your chin and jawline, his fingers never once stopping their ministrations between your legs.
he doesn't stop there, his thumb finding the exact spot that makes your vision cloud and your breath stutter. the pressure he applies is a far cry from the teasing distance he held just moments ago, and the sudden shift in pace forces a primal, hitching sob from your throat. oscar revels in it, his hand moving with a confident kind of expertise that makes the desk beneath you feel far too hard and the air in the room far too thin.
"look at you," he whispers, his voice dropping into that dangerous, honey-thick register as he pulls back to observe the way you're shaking against his touch. "completely undone and i haven't properly started yet."
he picks up the pace, his fingers working inside you with a fluid, invasive grace that makes your legs lock around his waist, pulling him as flush against you as the fabric of his jeans will allow. the friction is all-consuming, a desperate, maddening cycle of his touch and your response. every time you try to pull away, he just holds you firmer, his thumb circling your clit until you're gasping for air, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his kisses move from your jaw to the sensitive pulse beating frantically at the base of your throat.
he knows exactly when you're teetering on the edge, and he has no intention of letting you fall just yet. he slows his rhythm again, his touch becoming light, almost absent, just to feel the way you chase his hand, your hips bucking forward in a silent, desperate demand for more. he just chuckles, a low, vibration in his chest that you can feel through his clothes, as he leans in to bite softly at your earlobe.
"still haven't given you everything you're asking for, have i?" he taunts, his fingers sliding back inside you in a slow, deep stroke that makes you cry out, his name fracturing on your tongue.
and this is where you remember that oscar piastri is a piece of shit.
at the very height of your unraveling, when your body is a tightly wound spring of desperate need, oscar abruptly halts, pulling his fingers out with a clean, devastating motion. the whiplash of pleasure being stolen from you is enough to make you thrash in his hold, your legs kicking out in a futile attempt to recapture the friction you were denied. you are a mess of tangled limbs and raw nerves, your back arched off the hard wood of the desk, your head tossing back as you let out a sharp, ragged cry of pure, unadulterated frustration.
"please!" you sob, the word escaping you in a broken, pathetic wheeze as you claw at his shoulders, trying to pull him back to the center of your ache. you are begging for him, your pride completely annihilated by the void he left behind, your body twitching with the ghost of an orgasm that refuses to fade. oscar only laughs—a low, gravelly, and thoroughly amused sound that ripples through his chest—and he pulls back just enough to watch you struggle, his expression one of mock satisfaction. he lets you thrash and complain, letting your agitation feed the atmosphere of the room.
"fuck you, piastri—," you bite out, your voice trembling with a potent cocktail of rage and arousal. you can barely string the words together, your breath hitching in broken, wet gasps. "i can't—, god, i can't, please." you plead, your fingers digging into his shirt as you try to ground yourself. your entrance pulses and clenches, a hollow ache that begs for the pressure he just stole away.
your body vibrates; your entire core throbbing with a phantom tension that refuses to dissipate, and the sight of you—completely unraveled and desperate for his return—only seems to make his resolve to tease you further.
oscar shushes you, the sound sharp and silencing, his hand coming up to press firmly on your waist to keep you steady on the desk. despite his hold, your hips grind erratically against the hard wooden surface, your body desperate to find the friction it was just robbed of.
you’re frantic, trying to coax pleasure from the unyielding furniture, but it’s an empty, frustrating effort; the cold, stationary edge of the desk is a poor substitute for the specific, intoxicating electricity that only oscar’s touch provides.
he watches you with an amused, half-lidded gaze, clearly enjoying the sight of your desperate attempt to satiate yourself without his help. he lets you suffer through the inadequacy of your own movements for a heartbeat longer before he leans in, pressing his lips against your forehead in a feather-light, almost taunting kiss. "want it that bad, huh?" he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that feels more intimate than his touch.
your fingernails bite into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him flush against you as you struggle to even form a coherent word. "want me to fuck you stupid on this desk?" he asks, his question hanging heavy and dangerous in the air, his eyes dark with the promise of exactly what he knows you've been burning up for.
you nod your head frantically, your vision swimming and your thoughts unraveling into a hazy, singular need as you continue to beg. "i'll do anything, oscar, please. i can't—i need it—," you gasp out, the words barely audible as you feel yourself soaking your panties, the heat of your own desire pooling heavily against the barrier oscar refuses to fully breach.
oscar hums against your skin, a sound of sick satisfaction, but instead of finishing what he started, he teases you further by guiding your hands down to his crotch.
you don't need instructions; you already know exactly what he wants. as he crashes his mouth back onto yours in a fervent, needy kiss, you work the zipper of his fly, your fingers trembling as you help spring his cock free.
the instant he's released, oscar lets out a sharp, ragged hiss, the stark difference between your small, desperate hand and the impressive size of him sending an addictive rush through his system. he kisses you harder, his hands tangling deep into your hair and pulling your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry attention while you wrap your hand around him, stroking him in a steady, building rhythm that prepares him for exactly what you're both craving.
oscar presses his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he battles the overwhelming sensation of your touch, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to keep you close to him. the atmosphere in the room feels tense, charged with the scent of unspent desire and the harsh, metallic tang of the upcoming internship you both are so desperate to win, yet in this moment, those stakes are pushed to the absolute periphery of his mind.
he moans low in his throat; jagged and involuntary as you pull your hand upward, your thumb grazing the sensitive underside of his head, causing him to shudder violently against you. he’s losing his grip on his own composure, his hips twitching in sync with your hand, the dominance he’s been holding most of the time beginning to fray at the edges. “shit, dollface— keep doing that and i won't last," he groans. his voice a strained, melodic mess as he pulls your head back further, exposing the arch of your throat to his hot, feverish kisses.
after some time, oscar begins to move his hips in slow, deliberate grinds, testing the space between your thighs, the denim of his jeans grating against your already sensitive, dampened skin in a way that makes you cry out with renewed desperation. he’s playing with the threshold of your endurance, his fingers returning to your inner thigh, tracing the seam of your panties, daring you to stop, daring you to push him past the point of no return.
you feel the heat radiating off the man before you, the way his muscles bunch and ripple under your touch, and you use that to your advantage, increasing the speed of your hand, teasing him with the same attitude he’s been using on you all afternoon. his head falls back against the whiteboard, a sharp, muffled thud that signals just how close he is to snapping.
oscar kisses you then—a bruising, possessive collision of teeth and tongue—tasting his own mounting frustration and your frantic, saccharine need, binding you both together in a rhythm that feels less like a game and more like an unavoidable collision of two people who have been holding each other at arm's length for far too long.
he grips your hips, his knuckles turning white as he positions himself, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a hungry, devastating focus. with a deliberate, slow push, he finally slides inside you. the sheer size of him is overwhelming, stretching you to your absolute limits, and for a second, your breath leaves you entirely. it’s tight, an intense, crushing fullness that makes your head spin and your vision blur. oscar watches the way your face contorts, the way your fingers dig into his shoulders as you struggle to accommodate him, and a look of pure, unadulterated triumph crosses his features.
to him, sheathing himself completely within your warmth is nothing short of elysium. he lets out a low, guttural groan that vibrates through your chest, his body shuddering at the sensation of you—so hot, so soft, and so incredibly wet—clamping down around his length. you gasp, a broken, breathless sound, marvelling at how he managed to fit despite the friction, your body instinctively clenching around him.
"fuck—oh! " you moan out, the sensation ricocheting through your spine as he finds a rhythm that is both punishing and perfect.
oscar lets out a harsh, ragged breath against your neck, his voice thick with praise as he feels you adjusting to his size. "that's it, doll," he murmurs, his tone vibrating with possessive pride. “you take my cock so well. all the damn time. missed being inside you, fuck.”
his hands lock onto your hips, grounding you as he begins a punishingly steady rhythm, burying himself deep with every forward thrust. the sounds echoing in the classroom are obscene—skin meeting skin and your desperate, uninhibited cries, which oscar drinks in, his eyes blown wide with an intensity that matches the violence of his movements. each time he hits that deep, sensitive spot, you feel your resistance shattering, your nails raking down his back as you tilt your head back and sob his name, completely undone by the sheer force of his possession.
you don't know how long you stay like that until you reach down into the friction between your bodies, sourcing out pleasure elsewhere to get you coming. and so your fingers tremble as you slip them inside your panties, desperate for that specific, sharp contact. you start to work in quick, desperate circles against your sensitive nub, but just as you find a rhythm, oscar’s hand drops from your hip to press his fingers over yours. he sandwiches your hand against yourself, forcing you to maintain a firm, heavy pressure against your clit while he continues to piston in and out of you.
the double-barreled stimulation is almost too much; a ragged, shattering cry rips out of your throat, and your thighs spasm, your legs trying to clamp shut in an involuntary, defensive reflex against the sheer intensity. "oscar!" you gasp, the name barely more than a sob as his pace turns wild, uncoordinated, and utterly feral.
he's erratic, slamming his hips into yours with a frantic need that matches your own. he’s caught in the same feedback loop, his breath coming in jagged, desperate hitches that mirror the way your own pulse is hammering in your ears. “wanna fuckin’ come, princess? wanna get that orgasm you've been crying about?” he taunts as he pushes you over, clearly intending to go over with you, his movements becoming more aggressive as the friction reaches a fever pitch.
at this point, all you can do is nod frantically into his personal space as you feel the pressure building — a tidal wave of heat and muscle tension that’s threatening to snap you in half. as you begin to climax, your hips grind upward against him with a violent, final strength, your fingers underneath his finally letting go as the world narrows down to nothing but the feeling of him, the desk beneath you, and the shattering release that rips through you, making your eyes see white light.
as your heartbeat finally thrums at a reasonable pace, oscar turns his head to press a lingering, possessive kiss onto the side of your temple, his breath coming in shallow, shuddering gasps against your skin. with one final, deep push, he unloads himself inside you, and you can feel the hot, heavy spurts of his release flooding into your core. you’re completely spent, your body heavy and humming with the aftermath, and you can only muster a soft, broken whimper as you feel him pulsing within you.
"thank you," you mumble, your voice a barely audible rasp against his collarbone as your eyes flutter shut, your body finally losing its tension and sagging involuntarily against his shoulder. oscar doesn't pull away; he holds you firmly in his arms, staying buried deep inside you, content to let the lingering heat and the silence of the empty classroom wash over you until you’re steady enough to move again.
he eventually shifts, his weight shifting off you just enough so he can pull you flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your frame to keep you close as you catch your breath. he brushes a stray, sweat-dampened strand of hair from your forehead, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that feels entirely at odds with the intensity from moments ago.
"you," he says, his voice still raspy and low, "are absolute trouble."
you let out a soft, tired laugh, tilting your head to look up at him, your eyes still heavy with the haze of what you just shared. "coming from the man who decided to make his internship rival lose her composure on a desk in the middle of a workday?"
oscar smirks, the look in his eyes softening as he leans down to press another lingering, chaste kiss to your lips. "well, you did ask for it, bunny. and you were very, very convincing."
"i was under a sex spell and begging, piastri. there's a difference."
“a sex spell? is that what we're calling it now?” oscar throws back at you as he chuckles, pulling you tighter until your head rests securely back on his shoulder.
"let's call it a tie," he murmurs against your hair, his hand coming to rest possessively at the small of your back. "though we should probably consider how we're going to explain the state of this room if anyone walks in."
you hum, feeling the cool air of the room start to settle on your skin, but you make no move to leave his embrace. "we'll just tell them it was part of an 'intensive performance evaluation.' i'm sure they'll understand."
"oh, they'd definitely understand," he agrees, his tone shifting into that familiar, teasing cadence. "though i think i’d have to fight them off if they tried to give you a higher score than me."
you smack him lightly, a smirk tugging at your lips. "your ego is going to be the death of us both, you know." he just laughs, a low, vibrating sound, and pulls you to your feet with an ease that makes your knees wobble.
"maybe so," he concedes, straightening his shirt and giving you one last, lingering look that makes the flush return to your cheeks. "but at least we'll go out having the best stats in the department.”
“definitely.”
─── © honeypiastri on tumblr 𖹭 please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.
