summary: one little conversation between Nicole Piastri and the McLaren social media admin brings you back into Oscar's life
fc: gala nikolic
warning: I am aware of all the spelling errors, but to change them I’d have to rewrite, screenshot and insert the slides all over again and I’m just too lazy to do that, so you’ll just have to life with it
a/n: I love them you guys!!! I’m totally open to writing a part two if you’re interested, but I also might just do it anyway. I hope you enjoy🍀
oscatpiastri
oscatpiastri LMAO admin just said ‘I’m so hungry, I could eat YN YLN’ and that was the face Oscar pulled😭😭 what kind of trauma did they unlock??
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user I’M CRYING the man was flabbergasted
user I NEED TO KNOW WHO THAT IS IK YOU GUYS ARE GOOD AT STALKING
-> user I could only find a private acc with that name @.yourusername but there is no way to tell if it’s actually her
-> user wow you guys are quick
user oh to be able to read his mind rn
user admin chose violence today
-> user he looked so betrayed my poor boy💀
user how did admin even get such private information about Oscar?? like there is absolutely no history of a YN YLN anywhere in Oscar’s digital footprint
-> user I mean, that’s their entire job no? find things that get clicks and oscar’s past def does that
🔒 yourusername
yourusername university is slowly turning me into a hermit
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yourfriend1 caption is so real dude
yourfriend1 one more class with professor brenner and I’ll actually break all of my good pencils
-> yourusername REAL
yourfriend2 movie binge night was so good we have to do it again
-> yourusername ‼️‼️
yourbestfriend girly you’re famous
-> yourusername fuck you mean by that?
-> yourbestfriend have you ever watched f1? does the name oscar piastri ring a bell?
-> yourusername YOURE FUCKING JOKING
yourfriend3 I’m so hungry I could eat oscar piastri🤔🤔
yourfriend4 what just happened
yourfriend5 the art faculty bathroom is actually so peak
yourfriend6 you’re so gorgeous one chance pls pls pls
TEXTS BETWEEN NICOLE AND OSCAR
TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR BEST FRIEND
👤 OSCAR PIASTRI WANTS TO SEND YOU A MESSAGE
oscarpiastri: Hello YN, I’m not sure if you remember me, we went to kindergarten together. I just wanted to give you a heads up, incase you haven’t seen it yet. There is a video going around on the internet of the McLaren social media admin mentioning you in an interview and people are taking it all sorts of ways. I hope it doesn’t cause you any trouble, if it does, please don’t hesitate to reach out and I will take full responsibility for it. I hope you are doing well!
INSTAGRAM DIRECT MESSAGES BETWEEN YOU AND OSCAR
yourusername: Hello Oscar, it’s nice to hear from you! Thank you for the heads up, that’s really kind of you. I saw the video and the reactions, but don’t worry, it’s really no trouble. How are you? Maybe we could catch up? We haven’t seen each other for so long
oscarpiastri: Good to hear that it’s not troubling you. I’m sorry anyway. And I’d love to catch up. Are you still in AUS? I’m there from December until February, incase you are.
yourusername: Yep! Still an Australian resident:) I have a small semester break in Janurary, if that works for you?
oscarpiastri: Great! 👍
🔒 yourusername
yourusername touching grass because why am I doing all that over a MAN
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yourfriend1 I just looked oscar piastri up and jeezus YN go get him or I will
yourbestfriend my girl is crushing on the f1 championship leader… i always knew you had big ambitions but I didn’t think they were that big
-> yourusername YOU REALLY ARE NOT HELPING IT
yourfriend2 we’ve lost her😞😞
-> yourfriend3 to a MAN of all things smh
-> yourusername YOU GUYS
yourfriend4 why do I have to be on an semester abroad right now of all moments I FEEL SO LEFT OUT
yourfriend5 she was crouching like that for a good 5 minutes btw
-> yourusername STOP EXPOSING ME
-> yourfriend4 why was she even crouching??
-> yourfriend5 he was texting her really dryly and she freaked out bc obviously that means he hates her and she wants to die and he should crash
-> yourfriend4 you are absolutely hopeless YN
-> yourusername I need to find friends that actually love me
yourfriend6 yk when you start dating you’ll have to open this insta to him and he’ll see how pathetic you are for him
-> yourusername WAIT THATS SO EMBARRASSING
🔒 yourusername
yourusername no idea what just happened I just know it wasn’t good at all I’M SO SORRY OSCAR WHEN I SAID I WANTED YOU TO CRASH I DIDNT MEAN IT
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yourfriend1 you’re so unserious wearing a tshirt that says your tears don’t fall they crash around me after your CRUSH DNFED
-> yourusername gotta have some humour or I’ll cry
yourfriend2 I’m seeing this as a sign that he’s so obsessed with you that he does everything you say
-> yourusername THEN HE SHOULD LOCK IN AND WIN THE STUPID CHAMPIGNONCHIP OR WHATEVER
-> yourfriend2 CHAMPIGNONCHIP I‘M CHOKING
f1updates
f1updates oscar piastri when asked about the title fight and the support of family and friends for the race this weekend:
“I know a lot of things have to go right today, in order for me to win, but as long as it is a possibility, I will stay positive that I can do it.” Said the Australian. “I’ve got a lot of people here to cheer me on, my mum, dad and sisters, for one, but also an old friend, who I haven’t seen in a long time. They give me the strength to push one last time.”
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user I KNOW HE CAN DO IT
user Norris needs to fuck off it’s Oscar’s turn
user I wonder who the “old friend” is🤔🤔
-> user YN YLN? I’m still not over that mystery
-> user that would be the plot twist of a century
user my entire body is vibrating like I just drank four gallons of coffee
user THIS IS STILL MY BOY
🔒 yourusername
yourusername ABU DHABI ARE YOU READY?
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yourfriend1 HE WILL NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIMSELF WHEN HE SEES YOU
yourfriend2 wow😳
yourbestfriend forget that wanna be athlete and come home to your wife (me)
yourfriend3 your nervous f1 rambling made me invested as well, I’m rooting for the blonde with an attitude problem
-> yourusername max verstappen?
-> yourfriend3 that one, yes
yourfriend4 HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABT TODAYS RACE?
-> yourusername I’m fucking shaking bro, Verstappen idk you like that but please find the closest barrier and take that Norris guy with you
oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri lots achieved. lots learnt. coming back stronger next year
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mclarenf1 we are so proud of you oscar🧡
user no one is in doubt that you’ll win the title one day
user not even Norris bottled this hard
user I don’t get why people are so harsh on him all of the sudden, have we all forgotten that he lead the wdc for half a season in his 3rd year in f1??
user op the man you are
user AURA
user oh 2025 you were so promising
yourusername still not sure if I understood it all, but I know that I’m incredibly impressed:)
-> oscarpiastri I’m glad you could make it🙂
-> user OMG IT WAS YN YLN
-> user he’s so awkward with emojis💀💀
-> user GIRL PLEASE OPEN YOUR INSTA I NEED TO BE PARASOCIAL
🔒 yourusername
yourusername nothing to sayyyy🧚♀️
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yourfriend1 do we have to act normal now bc he can see the posts?
yourbestfriend you smart little finch, I recognise a thirst trap when I see one😛😛
-> yourusername BE QUIET
yourfriend2 RIP unhinged instagram posts, you will be missed😞
-> yourusername you guys are so dramatic
oscarpiastri I'm not sure if I want to look at the other posts
-> yourusername don't, just don't do it
yourfriend3 one man in your life and you have an entire rebrand smh 🤦♀️
yourfriend4 you? speechless? what have you done to my girl, oscar piastri🤨
yourfriend5 WHAT IS A MAN DOING HERE?
-> yourusername BE NICE
yourbestfriend my girl is gonna be a famous wag🥲
yourfriend6 he can take great pictures at least
f1gossip
f1gossip Oscar Piastri was sighted in Melbourne, Australia with a mysterious woman on his arm. Who do we think she is?
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user NO😫
user oscar piastri daring rumours in the first weeks of 2026 what is going on
-> user I started to doubt his abilities
user cant even see her properly but i already know shes so pretty
user wait I think I’ve seen her before?? At the Abu Dhabi GP
yourbestfriend OMG MY GIRL IS ON A GOSSIP PAGE @.yourusername LOOK MY GIRL GOT PAPARAZZIED
-> yourusername GIRL DON'T PUT ME ON BLAST LIKE THAT
user i’m not ready for everyone to become parasocial about him all of the sudden
user not him wearing the fugly ass burgundy shirt on a DATE
-> user we don’t even know if it’s a date, could just be a friend
user did anyone see that comment from @.yourbestfriend?? they tagged a user named YN YLN….. coincidence???
-> user did I miss something?? who is that?
-> user there is a video of the mcl admin saying I’m so hungry, I could eat YN YLN and everyone and their mother has been trying to find out who she is and what correlation oscar has to her since then
-> user yeah and her account is private, so there’s absolutely NO WAY for us to find out anything about her
81_updates
81_updates Oscar Piastri, Mark Webber and friends on Melbourne Beach. Some fans even stated that Oscar was with a girl and they seemed to be very close🤔
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user HOLD ME BACK
user I hate to say this, but I think oscar really does have a girlfriend now
user congratulations to whoever get’s to have that every night
user lmao the imprint on his chest looks like a 4
user god that girl is lucky
user I think it’s safe to say it’s YN
user oscar jack piastri I was unfamiliar with your game
🔒 yourusername
yourusername after being forced to participate in all of Oscar’s hobbies, I think it’s only fair if I force him to paint with me, right?
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yourfriend1 turn that frown upside down😛
yourfriend2 you guys make me sick
-> yourusername jealousy doesn’t suit you babe💋
yourfriend2 and yes, that’s absolutely fair
yourfriend3 be honest, who won the race?
-> yourusername I love how much faith you have in me, but be fr who is winning the race? A girl who has known about f1 for 3 months or an actual f1 driver??
-> yourfriend3 he didn’t let you win? break up with him
-> oscarpiastri she told me not to let her win🤷 said it would be satisfying for her ego if she beat me on raw talent
-> yourfriend3 oh my sweet angel😞 THAT MEANS LET HER WIN
yourbestfriend no photo credit for the picture smh🙁
-> yourusername sorry babe, credit to you for pic 6, and to osc for literally every other one
oscarpiastri I don’t think you want to see the monster I create when I touch a pencil
-> yourusername as if I was graceful playing paddle
-> oscarpiastri you’d look beautiful while digging in dirt
-> yourusername HKDBHAYPQA
-> oscarpiastri are you ok?
-> yourusername just fine:)) my cat walked over my keyboard:))))
-> yourfriend4 you don’t…..have a cat?
-> yourusername SHHH
oscarpiastri and I did not force you
oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri 🔋☀️
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user when hes good with words😍😍
user I’m so obsessed with his gf and I don’t know anything about her
-> user I think that’s part of the appeal
user KARTING OSCAR
user that looks suspiciously like a date🧐
user I can’t wait for them to feel more comfortable and reveal a little more about their relationship
-> user I’m so excited for her to attend more races next year
user I don’t think they will ever confirm anything you guys, this is all we’re gonna get THEY ARE JUST SO PRIVATE
user HES SO CUTE
user our boy has a girlfriend… he’s actually done it
Request from @marspastries - oscar's always been a really reserved guy, we all know it and always did, but i guess it would be so him to randomly drop bombs like "kids?yeah umh..got one, second on the way" "marriage?oh yeah, my *wife* is really happy with ours" if you get what i mean, so i can totally picture this scene of him having a dinner with lando, maybe a few others and just randomly start talking about his life things, like showing off his kid's first steps on the phone or just randomly mentioning little sibling on the way or things like anniversary dinner planning
Word count: 1.6k
Oscar never really considered the fact that so many people were unaware of his home life.
That he's married, he had a little boy at home with another baby on the way and they're settled into a routine and life together even with F1 shaking it up.
They met while they were young and he didn't see point in wasting time in prolonging their inevitable marriage and naturally Alfie came a few months after that.
"How are you feeling?" Oscar asks as he sits in the car on the way to the track.
"My back hurts a little but nothing to be concerned about." Y/n shrugs with a soft smile before sighing. "Alfie is down for his nap. So I'll call you later to chat with him."
"Thank you." Oscar smiles earning a small nod before she sighs softly looking at him. "What?"
"Nothing, I just miss my husband sometimes-and before you feel guilty, it's not about anything other than I am so turned on 24/7 right now."
Oscar almost chokes at her candour, though he recalls this part of her first pregnancy which he took great joy in being part of even if he was terrified about causing any damage or harming the baby.
"I'll make it up to you once I'm home."
"You really don't have a choice." Y/n states earning another laugh.
-
Oscar yawns as he walks in for a dinner that has been planned ahead of the weekend, they have these sorts of dinners a few times a year. The most famous being the Abu Dhabi end of season meal.
"Hey, mate. How you feeling?" George asks as the two McLaren drivers sit down but the question being directed at Lando.
"I'm good. Already looking forward to the weekend being over." Oscar sighs making George frown.
"Already having doubt in yourself?"
"No. God definitely not. But y/n is at a certain point in her pregnancy and I just want to be there for her." Oscar states casually making George's eyes bulge in shock. But he's not the only one since the table falls silent.
"You have a baby on the way?" Max asks making Oscar look around.
"Yes...I've got a toddler too. He's about to turn 2." Oscar smiles just thinking about Alfie.
"How did you never mention that? I've never even met your girlfriend." Lando states making Oscar clear his throat and shift a little.
"You never asked...My wife and I got married at the end of 2023." Oscar states making the table go into a sequence of questioning, some even accusing him of lying.
"I'm offended I wasn't invited." Lando huffs crossing his arms jokingly.
"Any other secrets? We're asking now." Fernando questions making Oscar think for a moment.
"No. I don't think so. Wife, toddler, baby on the way. That's everything I can think of." Oscar shrugs then frowning as his phone rings. "Her ears must be burning, I gotta take this."
He steps out knowing the group are going to question if any of them had any suspicion but not one of them realised just how little they knew about Oscar. An assumption that Logan may have been aware since he's known Oscar so much longer and at one point was very much considered near family.
"Hey, baby. Everything ok?" Oscar asks softly making y/n huff out trying to make a sniffle. "Y/n?"
"I have braxton hicks." Y/n hiccups making Oscar sigh, hating that he's not there to help but she's officially in the third trimester and the doctor is advising against her travelling especially so far. A short couple hours might be allowed but from Las Vegas to Qatar then Abu Dhabi for the final triple header to round off the season. "Where are you?"
"Nowhere important."
"Oh you're at that dinner. I'll-I'll call back later I don't want to-"
"You are my priority, especially if I can't be there physically. Anyway they're all processing the news that I have a wife and kids since no one knew."
"What? How did they not know?-I mean I know I try to keep out the way of people when I'm there, but we don't act like strangers." Y/n rambles. "Did they think you were single?"
Oscar smiles a little sensing her getting possessive over the idea these men might've thought that Oscar would be up for another woman. He's not sure if she'd usually be so offended at the idea of Oscar being single but maybe he should've figured that pregnancy would be a little more upset at the thought of her husband being assumed single.
"Don't worry, I'll make it very clear from here forward that no one else thinks I'm single." Oscar promises earning a hum. "You know...when I get back there is something to celebrate."
"Our anniversary I know. I might be pregnant but my mind hasn't lost me yet." Y/n smiles lightly.
"Leave it all to me. I've got some plans."
The talk for another 5 minutes before y/n insists Oscar get back to the meal and he promises that they'll be talking again later when the dinner is over.
He returns to find the food has arrived and smiles sitting down, though he doesn't get more than a couple bites before George has to ask more questions and Max joins him as a new father on the grid, he's intrigued about Oscar's own journey with fatherhood. Though he doesn't word it quite in that way.
"Got any pictures?" Lando eventually asks and Oscar is happy to provide since despite him not making it a priority to discuss his private life, he is more than happy to share is someone asks.
Everyone make assure to let Oscar know he has a beautiful family, Lando also makes sure to let him know that he's batting out of his league by bagging his wife. Obviously joking but Oscar will take the compliment to y/n.
"We're coming up to the anniversary, thankfully it falls after everything for the season is done." Oscar states earning a small smile from the group since it's really nice getting to know this side of Oscar.
Some of them even realised he wears his wedding ring on his right hand but none of them had thought anything of it earlier when they'd noticed. They definitely didn't think it was a wedding band.
It's not till later when Oscar is on phone call with y/n and Alfie is finally on the call. He's grinning and yapping away with Oscar, mainly gibberish that is an attempt at real words. Y/n and Oscar understand most of what he's saying but when he's especially excited and just talking to talk, he stops using words and make noises that sound like words but aren't.
Oscar captures a couple screenshots and y/n is about to hang up but he asks if he can stay on call for the bedtime routine with Alfie. Plus he just wants to talk to y/n alone and after saying goodnight to Alfie, y/n leaves him in his room. Oscar always have to credit y/n as the most amazing mum because she has got Alfie in a routine and he sleeps through the night almost every night without fail.
"You don't usually want to stay on call for so long. What's up?" Y/n smiles as she settles down with a donut to finish her day. Something in Oscar wants to comment about that choice of snack purely out of concern for her blood sugar (his inner athlete is so nutrient focused but pregnancy hormones don't give a fuck and he learnt that in the first pregnancy) but he also doesn't want to be hung up on and ignored.
"I just want some extra time with you. My beautiful wife." Oscar smiles softly while y/n immediately pouts. "I love you, baby. Not because we have kids together, not because we're married, not because of anything but because you are such an incredible person and sometimes I don't make it obvious but that's how I feel."
Y/ bursts into tears, having to cover her mouth to make sure she doesn't sob and trigger Alfie's reappearance.
"You dick. You did that on purpose." Y/n hiccups while Oscar smiles a little. "I love you too, and you might not make it obvious to everyone else. But you make just how much you love me obvious to me. I never doubt it."
"Well I spent the rest of that dinner bragging about you and our family without apology." Oscar states earning a grin. "I'll be home soon and you will not be lifting a finger. I've got a lot of daddy duties to make up for and you...should not have to be doing this stuff on your own with Alfie when you're this far along."
"Oscar..." Y/n warns since she has never allowed him to feel guilt about working and just doing what he has to for his career. "I'm fine. I miss you like hell, but I missed you like hell before we were married and before we had kids. Alfie is doing great. I'm doing great, baby is doing great. We're all great. You own me nothing."
"I owe you so much more than you realise" Oscar whispers suddenly before smiling. "I'm going to let you sleep. I love you, we'll talk tomorrow. I'm going to play padel."
"I love you too, talk tomorrow and have fun. Try to win...unless it's Carlos, Lance or Fernando. In which case accept a gracious defeat."
pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader
summary: in which you and your best friends brother accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolate OR you and oscar get so fucking horny while on a yacht in the Maldives.
warnings: smut smut smut, all smut basically. oral, p in v, dirty talk, language, marking kink, slight voyeruism, exhibitionism??, not sure what else...NOT PROOFREAD! (might be some typos)
word count: ~3.9k
author's note: SURPRISEEEE ITS OUT EARLY (I worked hard over the weekend lol) hope you guys enjoy!! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR OSCAR EVERRRR (aside from a one shot i've had sitting in my drafts for months lol) comment and let me know what you think!!! xoxo
ln4 cl16 mv1 op81 cs55
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You’ve always had a sweet tooth.
Everyone knew it. Oscar especially. He used to tease you over it when you were younger. Would point out when your fingers were sticky with something sugary.
He never said it unkindly. Just amused. Soft. Something like you’ve got chocolate on your face and then passed you a napkin you didn’t ask for.
He’s always been like that. Gentle. Kind. The boy who was never loud. More of a listener than a speaker.
And he never made you feel silly. Not when you cried after falling off your bike and scraped your knee. Not when your towel slipped. Not even when you accidentally spilled juice all over your shirt on a long flight. He just handed you a new one from his backpack like he knew it’d happen.
You’d grown up like that.
And now here you were, years later. Sunburned and salty on a private yacht in the Maldives, still with a sweet tooth and one of his old McLaren shirts he gave you when he first got signed. Pulled over your bikini.
His sister, your best friend, left on in the morning for a tour with the rest of the group. Something about history and snorkeling. You’d both waved your hands declining. Something about being too burned and too sleepy for it.
“She’s going to get bored halfway through,” You sip on your drink. “Probably will call us in two hours.”
Oscar gives you a shrug. “I give her one.”
“She said it was a once in a lifetime experience.” You throw up your hands while repeating her words. Mocking her almost. Smiling.
“So is sitting here.”
And you laugh.
He’s sitting across from you, towel slung around the back of his neck, sun catching his shoulders. His hair is damp. Skin flushed from the sun. No shirt. Just a pair of swim shorts and bare feet.
You shift slightly where you are. Curled up in the shade. Bare legs stretched out. The oversized shirt clinging to you just a little too much where your bikini top was wet.
He glances at you when you move. Doesn’t speak. Just tracks it with his eyes. And looks away again.
His hand reaches for the table. “What’s this?”
You look over.
A little box. Dark. Red ribbon wrapped around it.
“Some welcome thing, I think.” You shrug. “Dropped it off yesterday.”
Oscar pulls the lid open, brows lifting. He picks up a wrapped square, amused.
“Well, well.” He says, looking at you. “Your kryptonite.”
You grin. “Shut up.”
“You gonna pretend you didn’t spot this the second we sat down?”
“I did not.”
He tilts his head, giving you a look.
“Mm, you’ve got that look.” He says.
“What look?”
“The one you used to get before stealing cupcakes at birthday parties.”
You roll your eyes, but blush. Cheeks reddening. “I did not steal…”
“You did.” He cuts you off. Already unwrapping one of the chocolates. “Always had sugar on your hands. Icing on the corner of your lips.”
You open your mouth to protest, but he tosses a piece toward you.
You catch it.
You watch him bring the chocolate to his mouth, tongue darting over his lip without thinking.
Peel open your piece and press it to your tongue. It melts fast. Rich.
You hum, licking a smear of it off your finger. “That’s actually really good.”
He doesn’t respond right away.
You glance up and catch him mid-swipe across his bottom lip. Looking dazed. Distracted.
Then he blinks, clears his throat. And nods. “Yeah, pretty good.”
He closes the lid of the box, slides it to the side. Then leans back, looking at the water.
And you sit there with him. Across from him on the cushioned benches. Chewing slowly. Feeling that heat bloom beneath your skin.
It’s soft at first.
Then deeper.
A warmth in your chest. A pulse between your thighs.
The wind sweeps your skin. And the fabric of your bikini suddenly feels too damp. Too thin. Too tight.
You swallow. Trying not to fidget.
Oscar hasn’t moved much. His gaze is still on the ocean, but it isn’t really. And you watch the way his jaw flexes. The way his foot shifts on the deck. Like he was grounding himself.
He doesn’t look at you.
And he always looks at you.
You shift again. Cross your ankles. Press your thighs together.
You glance at Oscar again.
And his lips are parted. Just a little bit. And his brow is slightly furrowed.
You sit up slightly. “You okay?”
He shifts. Then clears his throat, blinking. “Yeah. Just…hot.”
You nod slowly. “Same.”
He leans forward, breathes out. But his fingers twitch. And you notice as his back muscles roll slightly as he drops his head down, towel slipping down.
He stays like that for a few seconds. Then rubs a hand over the back of his neck.
His voice is quiet. Flat. “What was in that chocolate?”
You don’t answer right away. Because you’re fucking throbbing now. And your bikini is definitely soaked.
“Do you feel…” He swallows, throat bobbing. “Strange?”
You nod. And then remember he isn’t even looking at you. “Yeah.”
His jaw clenches.
He shifts again. Still not looking at you. And that’s how you know something is wrong.
Because he never acts like this.
You’ve seen him flustered, sure. After a race, dealing with the media, around too many people. But never like this. Not this tense. As if he’s afraid.
“I didn’t think chocolate could….fuck.” His voice cracks. And he laughs under his breath.
He grips the bench. Looking like he’s in pain.
“I think I need to go inside.”
And he stands too fast. Towel falling down. Hands clenched at his sides as he turns on bare feet and walks toward the main cabin.
You stare at his back. His shoulders. And he disappears down the stairs.
You’re so hot that you could cry. Unbearable.
You press your palm flat to your stomach. Like it’ll help.
But it doesn’t.
Because it’s not just the chocolate.
It’s him. Oscar.
Gone for less than a minute and his voice is the only thing in your head. The way his mouth looked when he licked the chocolate off his thumb. His hands. The muscles of his back straining as he leaned forward
The silence stretches heavy.
You make a quiet sound in your throat. Barely audible. And you can’t sit still. Can barely think. Can’t stop seeing him.
Your hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt. You’re hesitant at first. But then trail your fingers to the center of your ache.
And your hips lift off the cushion. A heavy breath escaping.
Your other hand grips the bench as you rock slowly against your own fingers. Over the bikini. Slow circles. Each one, pressing harder.
You let your head fall back. And the sky above is almost blinding.
“Oscar…”
You don’t even realize you said it out loud. It just slips.
And a few moments later, you don’t even hear him come back. Your fingers still at your bikini. Rubbing.
You lift your head. He’s there.
Flushed. Hair ruffled like he ran his fingers through it a million times. Eyes fixed between your legs like he’s in some sort of trance.
He just stares. Doesn’t even speak.
“I can’t stop,” You whisper. Honest.
“You’re…” He blinks. Voice low. Stunned. Like he just walked into his favorite fantasy and doesn’t know what to do. “You’re fucking touching yourself?”
You nod. And he groans.
“To me?”
“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” You whisper.
“Jesus.” His hands twitch at his sides.
You shift, spreading your legs a little wider without meaning to. Unable to stop rubbing the tight circles.
“You look so pretty like that,” He mutters.
You tremble. “I need help.”
And his eyes widen.
“Please,” you whisper. “I can’t…Osc, please.”
He groans. Hands dropping to the front of his swim shorts, palming the hard line of his cock through the fabric.
“Come closer.” You plead.
And he stares at you with wide eyes. Flushed. He doesn’t move. At least, he doesn’t at first.
But then his gaze drops back down to your legs. Spread open. Your fingers rubbing slow, desperate circles. And his hands twitch.
“I…” He says, but he’s already squeezing himself. “I shouldn’t.”
“Oscar…”
“I shouldn’t be seeing this,” his mutters. “And I shouldn’t be this fucking hard.”
Your eyes fall to where his hand squeezes against his cock. Like he’s trying to fight the ache between his legs.
And you whimper. Hips jerking. “I can’t. I need….I need help.”
His hand squeezes himself tighter.
“Fuck.” A pause. A few silent moments of heated stares. “Do you know how many times I used to think about this?”
His voice has gone rough. And you blink at him. Heart stuttering.
“I used to jerk off in my room and feel sick after,” He whispers. “Because it was you. My sister’s best friend. Always walking around in those tiny shorts. That blue bikini. Always so fucking sweet.”
Your fingers slow. Jaw falls slack.
“I’ve thought about it,” His voice shakes. “Fuck. I’ve thought about this. When we were younger.”
Your breath hitches.
“Thought about your pussy more than I should’ve.” He mutters. “Wondered how soft you’d feel. How tight. If you’d let me take my time or if you’d beg me to fuck you rough.”
Your back arches.
“Wondered what you’d sound like when you come.” He continues. “If it’s all breathy. Or if you’d cry. If you’d say my name.”
“I’d press the pillow over my face after so no one would hear me,” He admits. “Every time.”
You gasp.
“I would.” You gasp.
His hand pushes harder into his cock. Groaning. “I’ve thought about fucking you with my tongue. Holding your legs and licking you for hours.”
You press your fingers even harder.
You whimper, other hand reading for a pillow or something to grab onto. “Osc, please.”
“You want my fingers?” He whispers. “Right here? Want me to fuck you with my hand?”
You nod. Repeatedly. Fast. Almost pathetic.
Oscar lets out a whimper. And then he’s kneeling in front of you before you can blink. Hand still pressing into his cock. The other trembling as his fingers brush your thigh.
“You’re so warm.”
Your hand falls away and he replaces it instantly. Pressing two fingers against the soaked fabric. Groans loudly when he feels it.
“Fuck, pretty…” He groans. “You’re soaked. Fuckin’ dripping.”
And then he pushes the fabric aside, stares. Pupils blown. “God, look at you…"
You shake your head. “Please.”
“I’ve thought about sliding my fingers into you since I was seventeen,” He pushes them in. Half-laughing. “Thought about curling them deep and slow….hearing you moan just like that.”
Oscar swears under his breath, leaning closer. Jaw locked tight. “I’d keep you like this for hours if I could. Legs spread and needy….mine to play with.”
You cry out. Rocking your hips.
And he curls his fingers. Watching your face.
“Yeah?” His thumb circles your clit now. Slow. “Right there? Knew I’d find it.”
And you careen forward. Hands flying to grab his shoulders.
“Come for me,” He mutters. “Right here. In my fucking shirt. On my yacht. On my fingers.”
And you do.
Hard.
And he watches every second. His lips parted. Cock throbbing.
And then he drags his fingers out of you slow.
Brings them to his mouth.
Licks them clean. Eyes locked on yours.
“Taste better than I ever dreamed,” He says softly.
And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck. Pulling your lips to his. Kissing you like he’s starving.
His tongue licks your mouth like its his. Like he already knows how to pull those sounds out of you and wants to hear every single one.
And his hands slip down your body. Down your shoulders, over your ribs. Brushing the dip of your waist. Until he’s gripping your thighs.
“Wanna see bruises here,” He says. “Want people to see bruises and know.”
He stays kneeling between you, chest heaving.
“You’re soaking, baby.” His voice cracks.
He leans forward. Kissing your inner thigh. And then opens his mouth, sucking hard. Pulling a moan from you.
You feel the bruise forming as he licks over it. Sucks it again. Fingers pressing into your skin, gripping it.
“That’s one,” He mutters.
He leaves another one. Higher.
Then a third on the other leg. Right by your cunt. So close that it makes your hips jerk into his mouth.
And then he’s standing. Grabbing you under your thighs. And lifts you.
Laying you down on the table. The welcome basket crashes onto the deck with a thud, but neither of you acknowledge it. The box of chocolates dangling on the edge.
He grabs it.
“What are you doing?” You ask. Breathless.
He doesn’t answer. Opens the box, takes out a single piece and holds it up. Gaze dropping down to your cunt spread open for him.
“Need to taste you with this,” He mutters.
He leans over you. Pressing the chocolate between your lips. “Bite.”
You do.
The sun’s hot against your skin.
And then he kisses you hard. Tongue lapping against yours, sharing the chocolate. You both moan and groan into each other before he’s dropping back to his knees.
“Look at you,” He breathes. “All messy. Want my mouth, baby?”
You nod.
And he leans in. Licks you.
One long drag up your slit.
You cry out. And he groans into your cunt. Licking you. Tasting you.
“Fuckin heaven.” He drags a hand to your leg. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”
“Oscar…”
He doesn’t stop. Just hooks his arm under your thigh, and pulls you closer to the edge. Legs over his shoulder.
And buries his face in your pussy.
You grind into him instantly. Chasing every flick of his tongue.
Your hands fist into his hair, dragging his face closer against you. And he moans. Wrecked.
“Fuck,” you yell. “Oscar…oh my…fuck.”
He drags his tongue through you. Flicking your clit over and over.
“Keep fucking my face,” his voice is hot.
“You sound…my God..Oscar, you sound obsessed..”
“I am.” He grunts. Fingers curling in you as he nudges your clit with his nose.
And then he pulls one arm away. You barely notice it. Until you hear it and look down.
He’s got his hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it fast. Leaking.
He jerks his cock faster. Hips twitching into his own fist as his mouth works harder against you.
“Gonna come,” he confesses. “Gonna come from tasting you.”
You cry out.
“C’mon…” He urges. “Let me taste it, yeah?”
And it breaks you.
You moan into the open sky. Grinding against his face. Jaw slack. Eyes squeezed shut.
And then he groans, standing up and comes hard onto your cunt.
Hot, messy ropes of it. Spilling over you.
And then he’s dragging you off the table without a word. Not giving you time to even breathe. Panting.
His hands tight around you, and then he’s spinning you. Forcing you to face the ocean. Chest hitting the metal railing.
And he’s behind you. Silent.
You start to turn your head, “Oscar…?”
“No.” He says. Voice rough. “Stay just like that.”
His hands drag your shirt up. Slow.
His name in bold letters stretched across your back.
He groans. Violently.
“I should’ve fucked you in this years ago.”
Your breath falters.
“Fucking knew it,” He grabs a fistful of the shirt, twisting his hand in it. “Knew one day you’d bend over in this and I’d lose my fucking mind.”
You feel the heat of his body behind you, shoving your bottoms down with one swift flick of his hand. Cock thick and heavy. Dragging through your folds, collecting his come and your wetness.
He groans. You shake.
He presses forward, hips rocking against you. Grinding into your thighs.
“You’ve no idea what you look like.” His breath is heavy behind you. “Bent over. My name on your back. Come still dropping down your cunt.”
And you bite your lip. Arching into him harder.
One hand grips your hip, the other fisted around the shirt.
“You wore this shirt for years like it meant nothing,” His voice quieter. Mean. “Didn’t think about what it did to me every time you wore it.”
“Osc…” You attempt to say his name, but he shifts his hips into you harder and your voice cracks.
He laughs.
“Now look at you. Dripping all over me. Wearing my name like you belong to me.”
He sinks in slow. So slow that you feel every pulse. Every ridge.
And you whimper. He groans behind you. Like he’s in pain. Like he’s trying so hard to not ravish you.
But when his hips meet you, and he’s bottomed out. He just….stops.
Breathes in heavily.
“Fuck.” He says soft. “You’re so fucking tight around me.”
His fingers dig into your hip even harder. Bruising. Marking.
“You’ve ruined me,” He laughs. “Y’know that?”
And you don’t even get a chance to answer.
Because he pulls back and slams into you. Hard.
You cry out, hands gripping the railing that your knuckles turn white.
His pace isn’t gentle at all. It’s feral.
“Fucking ruined me,” He says again. “You in this shirt….you in my fucking name..do you even know what that does to me?”
You moan. So loud. And his hips smack into you. Over and over.
“You’ve been walkin’ around in it for years.” He spits. “Like it’s nothing.”
He thrusts deep, angling his hips at a better angle. “Like I haven’t been dreaming of fucking you in it since I gave it to you all those years ago.”
You’re babbling now. Unable to breathe properly. Your entire body trembling.
His hand slips from your hip and slides up your spine. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down. Just a little bit harder. Forces you to arch even more.
And fuck, he nearly collapses when he feels you clench tighter around him.
“You should see yourself,” He grunts. “Squeezing around me like you’re desperate to never let me go.”
And he’s lost all rhythm. He’s just slamming into you. Cock so deep.
“Can’t believe this is real.” He’s panting. “Can’t believe I get to fuck you in my shirt. Pussy covered in me.”
Your orgasm is close. And you’re shouting. Moaning.
"Bet she'd lose her mind if she knew what a slut you were f'me..."
You cry out. He feels you teetering on the edge.
“Don’t.” He snaps.
And you cry, “Oscar…please.”
“You’re gonna wait.” He demands, fucking into you more rapidly.
And he’s losing his mind. It’s sooo good.
“Say who’s inside you.” His hands squeeze the back of your neck. “Say it.”
You gasp. Jaw falling slack. Chest pressed harsh into the metal railing. “You…Osc..fuck, it’s so good..”
You sob out his name and Oscar fucking snaps.
“That’s it, baby.”
His hips hit you faster. Deeper. The filthy sound of it heard over the waves lapping the hull.
You sob into the railing.
He leans into you, head falling forward.
“Gonna come,” He chokes out. “Gonna come right inside you. Stuff you full. Let it leak out.”
And you break.
Orgasm ripping through you. Violent and hot. Back arching so hard into him. You sob out his name. Your walls clenching around him in a tight grip.
And he crashes with you. Body shuddering. Cock throbbing. Spilling into you.
He’s still panting against you when he pulls out. And it’s a fucking mess in between your thighs.
But before you can say anything, he’s dragging you upright. And you’re stumbling as he drags you across the hot deck. Hand across your stomach. Keeping you close.
And then he’s shoving you into the rinse off shower.
He reaches up. Turns the handle. And the water is so cold that you gasp from it.
Oscar laughs behind you. “Too cold?”
Your head falls onto his shoulder. “Asshole.”
And then he turns the temperature warmer, and then it’s all steam and heat again.
You expect him to rinse you off gently.
Instead, he grabs the shower head. Detaches it from the hook. And pulls your back against his chest.
“Gonna clean you up.”
You’re about to ask what exactly he means. But then he;;s nudging your legs apart. Brings the shower head straight to your cunt.
And you jolt forward with a sharp cry.
The heat. The pressure.
“Oh my god…Osc,” You’re mumbling.
And he watches you. Holding one leg to keep them apart.
“Stay open,” his voice is soft. “Wanna see you come again.”
And you whimper. Begging. “Too much…fuck.”
But he doesn’t stop. Just tilts the shower head just right. Hitting your clit.
“Thought I’d have to work harder for this,” He mutters. “But you’re soaking already.”
“Fuck…fuck.”
"Y'like this, hm?" He whispers into your ear. "Being used like some filthy secret?"
Your hands reach behind you and slip their way into his hair. Pulling it. He groans. Rutting his hips into your backside for some friction.
“C’mon, pretty.” He grunts.
And the water just keeps hitting you.
You sob. And then crash again.
Your legs shake. Cunt clenching around nothing. But he holds you up, turning you to face him. Pressing your back against the wall.
He finally sets the shower head down. Lets it spray onto the deck.
And then his hands are back on you. One at your lower back, one gripping your thigh, pulling it up to wrap at his waist. You balance on one leg.
He presses a kiss to your temple. “Y’okay?” His voice gentle. Caring.
And you nod, pressing your head into his neck. And his heart stutters when you lean into him. Like he can finally breathe.
“I’ve got you,” He whispers.
And then, he sinks back into you.
Slow. Gentle.
Your mouth falls open. The stretch still almost unbearable after everything. But the way he slides in, feels too fucking good.
You gasp. Digging your nails into his skin. And he cradles you against the wall.
He moves slow. Rocking. No rhythm. And he feels massive. Thick.
“Oscar,” You hush into his skin. “You feel…Y’feel so good.”
He nods. “I know, baby. I know.” And his voice is a whisper.
He grinds deeper. Barely moving but pressing into you. “Can’t believe you’re still this wet…” He grunts. “Still want more? Want me to stuff you full again, hm? Fuck you til it leaks down?”
You nod. Mouth open. Moaning.
“C’mon,” He pants. Hips jerking. Cock throbbing.
It’s quick. The feel of you wrapped around his cock. The overstimulation of the stretch.
You both come quick. Crying out into each other’s skin. Soft kisses in between the moans.
And then you’re both laughing. Smiling at one another.
-
“Holy shit…I’m dying.” Your best friend announces. “Never let me go on another tour ever ever again.”
Oscar snorts from beside you on the bench, looking at his phone. “Told you you’d hate it.”
“You didn’t say I’d almost drown.”
You keep your face still. Sipping your drink.
And she plops down on the lounger across the deck, sighing.
And for a moment…it’s quiet.
Until Oscar leans in slightly, elbow brushing your arm.
His voice low. “Y’think she noticed?”
You glance at him. Shake your head.
“She’s never been less observant,” You whisper back.
And he grins. One of those fuck-you grins that makes you stutter.
And you hold back a smile.
Your best friend groans across the deck. “God, I feel disgusting. Should we order dinner in an hour?”
Oscar clears his throat. “Sure.”
“Yeah,” You say.
And then you lean, just slightly, into his side. Just enough that his thigh is touching yours again.
He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t stop smiling.
"Hey, what happened to the welcome basket?"
Oops?
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summary: You thought escaping to the bathroom would save you from a drunk and clingy Oscar, but you were wrong. He follows you, intent on proving that his stamina extends far beyond the race track. A story about overstimulation, denial, and an Oscar Piastri who refuses to let you finish until he’s completely satisfied.
pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader
word count: 4.8+ k
raiting: 18+
genre: smut, pwp, romance, established relationship, fluff (at the end).
warnings: drunk Oscar (but sweet and consensual), bathroom sex, counter sex, mirror sex, overstimulation, edging, dirty talk, slight roughness, praise kink, unprotected sex (creampie), aftercare, cuddling
author note: So I wrote a new fanfic about y/n as Oscar's girlfriend. I think these will be the most frequent fics on my blog, because that's what you love the most. Actually, I had many versions of this fanfic, but I decided that this slightly drunk and dominant, insatiable version of Oscar and y/n's not-quite-protesting version would be the most interesting. It turned out so intense and long 🤭 I swear I haven't written anything more intense and dirty in all my writing (and I've written over 100 explicit scenes on another blog) 🩵 What this Oscar did to me?! 😱🫠🫢 If you like long, intense, and Oscar, then this is for you 👇🏻
The electronic key gave a quiet click, and the hotel room door opened. You walked inside, supporting Oscar, who, although capable of walking on his own, had decided he couldn’t manage without you. He was heavier than he looked at first glance. Oscar leaned his entire body weight against your shoulder; his usual composure had melted away somewhere at the bottom of his third glass of gin, giving way to a relaxed, warm heaviness.
A third consecutive victory at the Miami Grand Prix was the reason for his celebration. Oscar usually didn’t drink much—he always kept himself in check, even at parties. But this time, teammates and sponsors had insisted: "To first place! To the hat trick!" And he gave in.
Not to the point of total intoxication, no—he understood everything, but he spoke a bit lazily, drawing out his words. Alcohol made him completely unlike himself—more relaxed, more playful. A slight sway in his step and a warm smile that wouldn’t leave his face made him look both cute and funny at the same time. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Oscar like this. Perhaps on his high school graduation day, when he got drunk with friends.
You gripped him tighter under the arm, feeling his muscles tense under the thin fabric of his black t-shirt, and involuntarily leaned closer to his neck.
The expected sharp smell of alcohol was there, but it was lost, receding into the background before what you adored to the point of trembling knees. He smelled like a storm that had finally subsided. It was a scent you would recognize among a thousand others. The smell of sun-dried wood and sea salt.
Heat radiated from Oscar’s flushed skin, and this scent was unfolding in a special way right now. It held the freshness of the wind on the Melbourne coast and the tartness of sage, which, mixing with the barely perceptible notes of expensive gin, created an intoxicating cocktail. Oscar always smelled like home.
But this dreamy moment was interrupted by his careless movement toward the bed, and you almost fell with him. You helped him land on the soft mattress, and your boyfriend fell, absolutely exhausted from the party. You ran a quick gaze over his body, sprawled across the middle of the bed, and shook your head, smiling. His black, tight-fitting t-shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing part of his flat stomach, and his white shorts had slipped down a bit on his hips.
"Champion, you definitely overdid it with the victories today," you said and sank to your knees in front of the bed to pull off his massive sneakers.
"I’m so tired..." he mumbled from somewhere above. His legs dropped limply to the floor as you removed his shoes. "But so... happy. Three in a row. Can you imagine?"
You stood up, walked to the nightstand beside the bed, and placed your purse and phone there. He turned his head toward you, and his smile grew wider.
"Are you proud of me?"
Warmth spread through your soul. You were prouder of him than he could imagine.
"I am proud of you," you whispered, leaning down to him and bracing your hands on the bed. Your lips gently touched his temple, and you felt him instantly bury his fingers in your hair. You hadn’t planned anything, just wanted to kiss him gently to express your pride. But Oscar craved more. He intercepted your lips, and his tongue slipped inside your mouth, deepening the kiss. The longer you kissed, the wetter and more chaotic it became.
Oscar pulled you toward him. You tried to resist, but he was stronger. Even drunk, he easily, effortlessly pulled you down next to him. But that wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t want you just lying next to him—he needed to feel all of you. With agility surprising for his state, he threw a leg over your thighs and in a moment, using inertia, pinned you under him.
The air was knocked out of your lungs. He was heavy. His relaxed body seemed to weigh a ton, and he didn't even try to hold himself up, trusting gravity completely. He sprawled over you, pressing you into the mattress with every inch of his body.
"Oscar... you're going to crush me," you laughed, trying to move his shoulder, but it was like moving a rock.
"No," he mumbled into your neck, and you felt his wet, hot smile against your skin. "I'm holding you. You're my main trophy today."
You were too tired for what Oscar had in mind. It was almost three in the morning, and after such a long and eventful day, you only dreamed of sleep.
"Oscar... I want to sleep..." you said. He began rubbing his nose against your cheek, then moved down to your neck, inhaling your scent as deeply as if it were oxygen. And then followed the kisses. His movements were languid, the trails wet, and the desire—obvious.
"You smell... tasty..." he whispered, lazily running his tongue over the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending a herd of goosebumps through you.
You realized: this had to end while you still had the strength to resist. Because a little more—and his lazy, hot kisses, his weight pressing you so pleasantly into the mattress, his scent filling your lungs—would do the job. You could already feel the response warming between your thighs, your body forgetting the fatigue and starting to reach for him. So you gathered all your will into a fist. First—gently. You ran your palm down his back, as if soothing him, and laughed quietly.
"Oscar... you really will crush me. I can't breathe."
He chuckled lazily but lifted his head slightly, looking down at you with those drunk, shining eyes.
"Then I'll make it lighter," he mumbled and tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but the alcohol made his movements clumsy. Instead, he just rolled a bit to the side, still holding you in his arms, and you seized the moment.
Sharply, but playfully, you twisted out from under him, as if wrestling, and slipped down—between his arms, past his chest, past his stomach. He tried to grab you by the waist, but his fingers only slid over the fabric of your dress. You were already at the edge of the bed, on your feet, laughing quietly so as not to wake his hunting instinct too strongly.
"No, no, champion," you said, retreating back toward the bathroom. "The trophy chooses a shower and bed today."
Oscar lay on his side, propped up on an elbow, looking at you with an offended, drunken smile. His hair was disheveled, and in his eyes, you could read disappointment mixed with desire. You saw that he was aroused: the fabric of his shorts was taut, his breathing accelerated. He reached a hand out in your direction, as if wanting to pull you back.
"Hey, come here..." he drawled lazily. "I haven't celebrated properly yet..."
"Celebrate in your dreams," you replied, already standing in the bathroom doorway. "I'll be quick. And don't touch yourself without me, got it?"
He just chuckled, falling back onto the pillow, and you closed the door—not all the way, out of habit.
In the bathroom, you exhaled with relief. Fatigue washed over you in a wave. You took off your dress to feel free, and before getting into the shower, you started washing the makeup off your face. Although there wasn’t much, skincare was mandatory. The face in the mirror looked tired but happy. You managed quickly and leaned down to wash with cool water.
When you lifted your head, drops were running down your cheeks, and when the water finally stopped blurring your vision, you saw Oscar in the mirror. He was standing in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame. The black t-shirt was still slightly ridden up; the white shorts, low on his hips, did not hide his erection. He looked at you silently, and you saw mischievous sparks in his eyes. You wiped your face with a paper towel and turned to him.
You looked at his arousal and raised your eyes, meeting his.
"What? Want to shower first?" you asked, not without a dose of sarcasm, hinting that he needed to calm down.
But Oscar didn’t answer. He pushed off the doorframe and slowly approached you. There was not even a hint of drunkenness in his movements now. His eyes ran from bottom to top over your almost naked body. You turned back to the mirror and realized that now you were definitely trapped. In a moment, he was behind you. His large, solid body pressed you against the vanity with the sink. His lips found your neck again, and his fingers, which just a moment ago were on your waist, slid down your stomach to the place that had begun to pulse. You felt his aroused cock against your buttocks.
"Oscar, I'm really tired," you said almost inaudibly, because his fingers had already found their way to your wet folds. You felt his touch and gripped the edge of the cold marble countertop with your palms. The mirror in front of you fogged up from your breath, but you still saw his reflection: eyes dark, shining, a sly drunken smile, but absolutely confident.
"I know," he answered right by your ear. "But you said it yourself... don't touch myself without you. Besides, you started it..."
His fingers on your pussy moved slowly, you would even say teasingly—not penetrating, just circling around your center. You reacted instantly: your hips pushed forward on their own, seeking more pressure, but he evaded, keeping you on the edge.
"Mmm..." you tried to protest one more time, but nothing came out, just an uncontrollable moan escaped.
He pressed harder—you felt his full length, hot and hard, through the thin fabric of his shorts against your buttocks. With one hand he held you by the waist, not letting you pull away, with the other—he continued these slow, unbearable caresses.
"You're wet," he whispered, as if surprised, as if it were a discovery for him. "Very wet. And this is after you were 'tired'?"
You bit your lip, trying not to give away how much this turned you on—specifically this drunken confidence of his, this playful cruelty, knowing you wouldn't run away now.
He turned you to face him. You ended up sandwiched between his body and the sink. His lips found yours—the kiss was greedy, passionate, wetter from the alcohol, but one that made your head spin. While he kissed you, his fingers slid down again—this time inside, unhurriedly sinking into you. You arched, pressing against his palm. Your own hands slipped under his t-shirt, lifting it up as if urging him to take it off, and Oscar, without thinking twice, got rid of it in a moment, remaining only in shorts.
He returned to your lips as soon as he fulfilled your silent request and tore away from you only when you both needed air. He looked into your eyes—and smiled. This Oscar was not at all like the one you were used to seeing in bed.
He touched your thong and pulled it down. It fell, gathering at your ankles, and the cool air touched your moist folds. Oscar grabbed you by the thighs. One sharp, confident movement—and you were off the floor. The cold of the marble countertop burned your bare buttocks and thighs when he sat you on it, but that cold instantly vanished under the pressure of his hot body. Oscar unceremoniously spread your knees wider, settling between them so tightly that not a millimeter of free space remained.
Now your faces were on the same level. In his eyes splashed dark, intoxicating pleasure—he saw you trembling, and he liked it.
"Osc..." you tried to say something, but he didn't let you finish. His lips attacked yours again—not just kissing, but as if consuming you. But this time he didn't stop at the lips.
He began real torture. Oscar covered your jawline with kisses, descending to your neck, intentionally lingering on the most sensitive points where the blood pulsed. He sucked on the tender skin, alternating it with light bites that made you arch back, nearly hitting the back of your head against the mirror.
He didn’t take off the bra you were still wearing; he just yanked it, and it rode up, freeing your breasts.
His lips fell to your aroused nipples, and he caressed them with his tongue. The arousal intensified from these caresses because your breasts were an erogenous zone for you, and Oscar knew it well.
His hand ended up between your bodies, found the place that was the main trophy for him. And he acted ruthlessly.
His fingers moved inside in a rhythm he set himself, completely ignoring your chaotic attempts to adjust. He would speed up, sharply thrusting deeper and forcing you to throw your head back, then almost stop, barely touching, teasing you to tears. It was masterful, planned overstimulation. And you didn’t know what you were being punished for. Was it for running away?
You felt everything at once: the cold stone under your palms, the heat of his breath on your chest, and this unbearably sweet pressure below. Your moan became louder, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom.
"Shhh..." he whispered right into your mouth, stealing your breath. "The neighbors will hear..."
"Then... you... need... to stop..." you barely said, and your voice still broke into a loud moan from the overstimulation. Oscar had no intention of stopping, and you realized this when he sped up his movements. A wave of pleasure was already rising to your throat, your body tensed, preparing for the explosion. You instinctively squeezed his shoulders, pushing your hips toward his hand, begging for the finale.
But he sensed it. And abruptly stopped.
His fingers froze inside, ceasing movement exactly the second it was vitally necessary. Your body trembled treacherously from the incompleteness, and you opened your eyes, looking at him with a mixture of indignation and despair.
Oscar looked at you, breathing heavily, with a self-satisfied smile atypical for him. He ran his thumb over your lower lip, enjoying your reaction.
"Hmm... I'd like to try something else," he said. You let out a loud breath, feeling resentment that he tortured you so much but didn't allow you to come.
When he dropped to his knees and his face was right between your legs, you felt your walls contract in anticipation of his actions.
Oscar placed his palms on your thighs, spreading your legs even wider and securely fixed you in this defenseless position.
At first, you felt only his hot, ragged breath scorching your most sensitive skin, causing your stomach muscles to contract involuntarily. And then his tongue touched you—softly, broadly, from bottom to top, gathering all your juices.
"Mgh!..." you threw your head back, pressing the back of your head against the mirror. The cold of the glass sobered you a little, but the heat below was unbearable.
Oscar was in no hurry. It seemed he decided to taste every millimeter of you. He kissed the inside of your thighs, slowly approaching the center, teasing you with his slowness. His tongue moved confidently and wetly, and you felt him enjoying the taste as if you were his favorite vanilla ice cream.
But the real torture began when he focused on your clitoris. He didn't apply strong pressure, no. He barely touched it with the tip of his tongue, vibrating quickly, then suddenly switched to slow, wide circular motions. It was maddening. You wanted harder, faster, rougher, but he kept you in this state of weightlessness where pleasure bordered on the pain of tension.
"Fuck..." you exhaled, trying to move your hips toward his mouth to increase the pressure. "Oscar... please..."
He reacted, but in his own way. His hands gripped your thighs to the point of bruising, not letting you move on your own.
"Quiet..." his hum vibrated against your skin, sending a new electric shock through you.
Suddenly he added fingers. Two fingers abruptly entered inside, filling you, and began to move in the same rhythm as his tongue. This double attack knocked the air out of your chest. You grabbed his hair with your hands, clutching the strands, trying to hold on to reality, which was blurring before your eyes.
He played with you like a race car on a track—accelerating you to a crazy speed, forcing you to breathe raggedly and moan loudly, then abruptly dropping the revs, leaving you trembling at the very peak, but not letting you cross the finish line.
He pulled away for a second, and you felt the cold air on your wet skin. You opened your clouded eyes and saw him looking up at you from below. His lips were wet and swollen, his chin glistened with your juices, and that same devilish, drunken satisfaction burned in his eyes.
"You're so tasty when you beg," he rasped, his voice vibrating with arousal. "Want to come?"
He knew the answer. He saw your body taut as a string.
"Yes... Oscar, yes!" you almost shouted.
He smiled, and that smile promised you everything. He fell upon you again, but this time without games. His tongue moved fast, hard, knowing exactly where to strike. He began sucking on your clitoris with such intensity that you forgot how to breathe. His fingers moved inside madly fast, curling, seeking your G-spot, and when they found it, the world exploded.
A wave of pleasure crashed over you with such force that your vision went dark. Your legs trembled, and if Oscar hadn't held you with his strong hands, you would have just slid off that countertop onto the tiles. You gasped for air, trying to calm your heartbeat, which seemed to echo even in your ears.
But Oscar didn't give you time to rest.
He stood up from his knees, his face wet with your juices, and his eyes—dark and even greedier. He didn't even kiss you—just ran his hand along your wet thigh, as if checking the result of his work, and grunted with satisfaction.
"Thought that was it?" he rasped. "I haven't really celebrated yet..."
He easily lifted you off the countertop. Your legs gave way, your knees were like cotton, but he pressed you firmly against him, not letting you fall. He led you deeper into the bathroom, to the toilet, the lid of which was down.
"Stand here," he commanded softly. You leaned your back against the cool wall, watching him through a fog of pleasure. Oscar stood before you, flushed, incredibly handsome in his drunkenness and desire. His fingers, a bit clumsy from alcohol but impatient, gripped the waistband of his white shorts. He jerked them down, along with his underwear. The fabric fell to his ankles, and he carelessly kicked them aside, standing before you absolutely naked.
You involuntarily lingered your gaze on him. His cock stood straight up, hard, engorged with blood, pulsing with impatience. On the pale skin of his thighs, where his shorts usually were, the contrast with his tanned legs stood out. He looked powerful, and at the thought that all of this would be inside you right now, a wave of arousing heat ran through your body again.
Oscar sat on the toilet lid, spreading his legs wide, and pulled you by the hands toward him.
"Come to me," he called, looking you straight in the eyes. "Sit on top."
You took a step toward him. His warm palms rested on your buttocks, guiding you. You threw a leg over him, straddling him. His thighs were hard under yours.
You felt his head press against your wet, swollen entrance. It was a sensation on the edge—you were so sensitive after the orgasm that any touch seemed almost excessive, but at the same time, you felt an emptiness that only he could fill.
Oscar put his hands on your waist, helping you find your balance.
"Slowly..." he warned, though his own breathing was ragged.
You began to lower yourself. Centimeter by centimeter, he entered you, stretching, filling every corner with himself. You felt his hot hardness, his girth, and it made you throw your head back and moan loudly.
"Oh God..." you groaned.
When you lowered yourself all the way, your buttocks touching his groin, Oscar pressed his face into the curve of your neck with a noisy exhale. You sat face to face, tightly intertwined, skin to skin. It was intimate, hot, and incredibly tight. You felt his heart beating against your chest—just as madly as yours.
You tried to take the initiative and start moving yourself to find a comfortable rhythm, but Oscar stopped you. His large palms squeezed your waist, fixing you in place.
"No..." he mumbled, burying his nose in your hair. "I'll do it myself."
And he began to move. These were not the fast, rhythmic thrusts you were used to. Because of the alcohol, his body worked in a different mode: his movements were slow, languid, but incredibly deep. He would toss you up with his hips, and then forcefully lower you onto himself, burying himself in you to the very hilt, hitting your cervix.
For your body, which had just experienced an explosion of pleasure, this was a real test. Your walls were still spasmodically contracting, nerve endings were exposed, and every deep movement of his felt too sharp—on the border between pain and pleasure. You bit your lips, trying not to scream, because the sensations were so intense that tears gathered in your eyes.
"Oscar... that's... too deep..." you groaned, bracing your palms on his shoulders, trying to lift yourself at least a little to reduce the depth of penetration.
But he didn't listen. Or simply couldn't stop. Alcohol played a cruel joke on him for the first time: it dulled his sensitivity. What was overstimulation for you was insufficient for him. To feel you, to get closer to release, he needed more friction, more pressure, more time.
"I don't feel... the edge..." he rasped, and in his voice, irritation mixed with lust could be heard.
He began to move more insistently, rougher. He entered you at different angles, searching for that point that would finally allow him to break. He rubbed his pubic bone against your clitoris, which was already burning, forcing you to shudder with your whole body. It was like an endless loop: he stretched you, filled you, withdrew almost completely, and burst inside again, giving you not a second of respite.
You felt sweat trickling down your back, hair sticking to your neck. The air in the bathroom became heavy and humid.
"Oscar, I can't take it anymore..." you exhaled, feeling your legs starting to go numb from the awkward position, and everything inside burning from the continuous friction. "Please, finish..."
He raised his head and looked at you. His eyes were clouded, pupils dilated. He saw your fatigue, but that seemed to turn him on even more. He was aroused by having complete power over you, that you were entirely at his disposal, even when you had no strength left.
"I'm trying, baby..." he said playfully. "But you're so tight... and wet... I want this to last forever."
He changed tactics. Instead of deep thrusts, he began to grind into you with his hips, creating frantic friction inside. He squeezed your buttocks so hard that you knew—tomorrow there would be marks from his fingers there.
"Damn..." you cursed when he hit that same, overexcited G-spot again, forcing your body to treacherously react again, preparing you for a second wave you didn't ask for, but which he was striving for. "You're mocking me..."
"A little," he smiled crookedly, and a drop of sweat rolled down his temple. "That's for running away." He confirmed your guess as to why he decided to just kill you today.
You realized that if you didn't take the situation into your own hands (or rather—into your own body), this drunken marathon would last until dawn, and you would simply pass out right on top of him. You needed to push him over the edge, break through that alcohol haze that had dulled his sensitivity.
Gathering the last crumbs of strength, you stopped resisting his chaotic rhythm and did the only thing that could work without unnecessary movement. You hugged him around the neck, pressed your cheek to his wet temple, and squeezed your internal muscles with all your might.
Oscar hissed, freezing abruptly. You felt his cock twitch inside from this unexpected tight ring.
"Oh..." he exhaled, and his fingers dug painfully into your thighs.
You didn't let go. You continued to rhythmically squeeze him, combining it with short, barely perceptible pelvic movements to meet each of his thrusts. It worked. The pressure and heat finally did their job, switching something in his brain.
His breathing turned into a hoarse moan. The chaotic movements became short, sharp, and frantic.
"Yes... yes, like that... don't let go..." he babbled into your shoulder. You felt yourself relaxing, and his cock hitting exactly where it needed to. A second orgasm covered you today, and your walls began to contract around his again.
He made a few more deep, desperate thrusts, burying himself in you with the full weight of his body, and finally broke. His body tensed like steel, his back arched, and with a loud, drawn-out moan, he poured into you. You felt the hot, pulsating waves of his orgasm, which seemed to never end.
When the last spasms subsided, Oscar went limp. He dropped his head heavily onto your chest, breathing as if he had just run a marathon. You were completely exhausted too. Legs trembling, heart pounding, eyelids heavy as lead.
"I think I died..." you protested, having no strength even to move.
Oscar made some undefined sound, similar to a chuckle, and lazily kissed your collarbone.
"I'll revive you... tomorrow," he mumbled in a hoarse, sleepy voice.
"Shower," you whispered peremptorily, realizing that if you didn't wash the sweat and everything else off yourselves right now, you would simply fall asleep right here, on the toilet in the bathroom. "And this time—only to wash."
He laughed quietly, the vibration from his chest transferring to you.
"Yes, ma'am."
He helped you stand up. Your legs barely obeyed you, trembling after such tension, and Oscar, noticing this, just scooped you up under the arm, pressing you tightly to his side. Together you walked into the shower cabin.
Oscar turned on the water, and in a moment, pleasant warm steam enveloped you. When the streams of water hit your skin, you barely held back a moan of relief. The water washed away the stickiness, fatigue, and the remnants of the alcoholic haze.
This time he was surprisingly tender. Oscar took the shower gel and lathered it in his palms. He slowly ran his soapy hands over your shoulders, back, moving down to your lower back. His touches no longer demanded or teased—they soothed. He washed the traces of his fingers from your thighs, kissing the wet drops on your neck.
You, in turn, just leaned your forehead against his chest, allowing the water to run down both of you, and lazily moved your palm over his torso, washing away the sweat.
"You can barely stand on your feet," he mumbled into the top of your head, rinsing the foam from your hair.
"Whose fault is that?" you tore yourself away from his chest and looked up at him. He smiled, and now this man looked like "your Oscar" and not that wild lover who barely left you alive. The combination of three consecutive wins and a large amount of alcohol had revealed a new version of your boyfriend to you. And you would definitely never forget it.
Having dried off with one towel for two—quickly and carelessly, because the cold of the bathroom had already started to bite at your heated skin—you finally left the bathroom.
Reaching the bed seemed like the last task for today. As soon as you were near it, Oscar simply collapsed onto the mattress, pulling you with him. The cool bed linen seemed like the most pleasant thing in the world.
He immediately scooped you under him, settling into the "little spoon" position. His hand possessively lay on your waist, pressing your back to his chest, and his legs intertwined with yours. You felt his warmth, his even breathing by your ear, and that familiar scent, which was now clean and fresh.
Darkness and fatigue instantly swallowed you both. And although Oscar won the race in Miami today, his main victory, undoubtedly, was you, peacefully sniffling in his arms right now.
yourusername: another race weekend down for osc, so proud of him. 🧡 p2!! @ oscarpiastri
user1: omg baking y/n mentioned in the race post
user2: ikkk he’s eating good
oscarpiastri: 🏎️❤️❤️. ❤️ by creator
Landonorris: I wishhhh someone would bake for my birthday👀👀👀
landonorris: yoohoo…🎤🎤
oscarpiastri: 😐
yourusername: maybe if you behave on the track 😅
landonorris: fairs
McLaren: our boy!!! thank you for the treats y/n, team appreciates your wonderful work and is hoping for more 🧡
yourusername: of course!
landonorris: YOU GAVE THE TEAM TREATS AND NOT ME?? ❤️ by creator
user23: bye id be mad if i was lando her food looks so good 🤤🤤
yourusername’s story:
caption: time with family @ oscarpiastri ❤️
Replies:
Hattiepiastri: Such good eats 🥹🥹
ediepiastri: I LOVE YOU
Oscarpiastri: ❤️
oscarpiastri:
Liked by: yourusername, f1, Hattiepiastri, 1.2 million other
oscarpiastri always good to be home.
user: gosh the concept of y/n baking for the piastri residence..
charles_leclerc: enjoy the lemon meringue?
Oscarpiastri: a lot
McLaren: 🧡🧡 ❤️ by creator
Yourusername: thanks for stirring the batter, my little worker bee 💋
oscarpiastri: 🐝❤️
User: rare none related f1 post AND it’s aesthetic?? Ok Oscar
User2: no I’m sayingg is this the gf effect in real time??
f1gossip:
f1gossip: in preperation Charles and Alexandra’s wedding, Alexander posted wedding cake flavor tests.. and TAGGED y/n l/n. A talented baker well known for her relationship with fellow driver Oscar piastri.
could y/n be the designated baker for the wedding?? That’d be soo cute.
user3: holy shit??? Ik most wag’s get along but this is so sweet
user4: idk this is lowkey weird, Oscar and y/n are probably gonna break up so it’s like.. why would Alexandra get her involved.. she’s not even like a good wag
user52: bye ur sooo dumb. “Good wag” is so stupid get a life”
alexandramalenaleclerc:
liked by: yourusername, Charles_leclerc, 2.4 million others
alexandramalenaleclerc: pt 2. A day I’ll never forget, with you forever ❤️ @ charles_leclerc
Ferrari: congrats!! Our favorite ❤️🏎️
User3: omg I could cry I love them
Yourusername: most beautiful bride🥹 all congratulations too you ml❤️
alexandramalenaleclerc: oh y/n thank you so much for being such a big part of this special day ❤️
Yourusername: always 💋
User32: BROOO I KNEW Y/N MADE THE DAMN CAKE. ALSO ILY CONGRATS OMG
USER21: this is so sweet.. like not even just the fact y/n is THAT good of a baker but the trust they have omg
yourusername: another season down. I couldn’t be more proud of Oscar. But.. with that done, I have more time with my little worker bee!!. 🐝❤️ @ oscarpiastri
user21: the concept of ollie and kimi liking the post quick asl😭
olliebearman: we were staring at the goodies getting sad we couldn’t get them
lando: come visit!! Or ship snack idec fr ❤️ by creator
f1: we’ll miss you!! And Oscar… Make sure to bring some snacks to hospitality 🏎️
oscarpiatri: ouch
McLaren: we love you Oscar !
user81: sure you do..😭 ❤️ by creator.
alexandramalenaleclerc: can’t wait to see you next season! Love you so much ❤️
Yourusername: ❤️💍
Mercedesamgf1: we’re still asking you make us some themed goods 👀👀
Yourusername: are kimi and George asking too?
kimi.antonelli: yes!
georgerussell63: me and carmen
yourusername: consider it done!
oscarpiastri: 🐝🎂 ❤️ by creator.
Made by @tortonellis on tumblr. Likes,reblogs, and comments appreciated!
summary: you and Oscar slowly reveal your two-year relationship and the internet loses its mind over it
note: just to clarify, i do NOT hate Lando and Magui's relationship as it's none of my business. i just used the internet's reaction for the smau
ENJOY (pls it was painful to edit 🥲)
masterlist |
oscarpiastri
liked by lando, mclaren, and 389k others
oscarpiastri summer so far 🌞
view comments
username ok am i seeing stuff??
username since when do you paint your nails? 🤨
↳ username lowkey 😭😭
username that is not your hand osc
username 🧡🧡🧡
username who owns a horse?
↳ username gonna surf through his following brb
↳ username1 i have a theory! do u guys know @yourbff? she posts a lot with her best friend yn who isn't rlly active on social media. they live on a farm and each have a horse 👀
↳ username that's.. an interesting theory..
↳ username girl c'mon xD
username enjoy your break osc 🧡
yourbff
liked by yourusername, username, and 13,752 others
yourbff queen is back and so are the vlogss 🎬
view comments
username yess yn is back
username our queens are backk 😍
username when is the vlog coming?
↳ yourbff this weekend! after yn edits it
↳ yourusername you have a laptop too yk?
username can't wait!
username @username1 are those the girls u talked about?
↳ username1 yess, they're incredible ❤️
↳ username but which one is which? 😭
↳ username1 the ginger girl is yn and the blonde one is her bff
↳ username and which one is dating Oscar?
↳ username1 i think it's yn and hear me out ok? the caption says "queen is back" which means yn was away.. maybe in London with Oscar? 👀
↳ username that's crazy
↳ username no way girl 🤣 like NO way
oscarpiastri posted a story!
[caption: I guess I have a child now]
yourusername
liked by yourbff, username, and 2k others
yourusername i am a mother now 🥰
view comments
username she remembered her password! no way!
↳ yourusername i deserved that
username aww what a sweetheart ❤️
yourbff pls post another one next weekend
↳ yourusername no 😊
username1 pls tell me i'm not the only one who sees the caption matching with Oscar
↳ username you are but that's okayy
↳ username i'm kinda starting to see it
↳ username1 thank you! also the last slide?
↳ username could be anyone
↳ username they don't even follow each other
↳ username1 not yet 🤭
yourusername
liked by yourbff, oscarpiastri, username and 4k others
yourusername enjoying life ❤️
view comments
username pretty girl ❤️
username u gotta love Bertha and Fred 🤣
↳ yourusername our icons
yourbff omg Bertha 😭😭
❤️ by yourusername
username do i see Oscar in the likes? 👀
username @username1 why do i feel like your assumptions are lowkey coming true?
↳ username1 haha i told you guys
↳ username i won't believe it until one of them confirms it
↳ username yeah.. we're pretty good at assuming things
username first Lando and Magui and now them?
↳ username Lando and Magui are still fishy af
oscarpiastri
liked by mclaren, yourusername and 263k others
oscarpiastri great weekend 🏆 ready for another
view comments
username let's goo another P1
username that 1st picture?? HELLO?
mclaren good job! 👏
username this whole post is making my mouth water
↳ username no fr like sir we KNOW you're hot
↳ username we're AWARE of your hotness
username his gf must be lucky
username his back oh lord
username i'm 100% sure his gf told him what pictures to use cus damn
↳ username RIGHT? LIKE WTF
↳ username she def took the middle one
yourusername
liked by yourbff, mclaren, username and 7k others
yourusername Percy's first race 🧡 also congrats @mclaren and @oscarpiastri 🏆
it was lovely to meet you all! and thank you Rosie for the little message 🥰
view comments
mclaren lovely to have you with us 🧡
❤️ by yourusername
username HARD LAUNCH I REPEAT HARD LAUNCH
username1 I TOLD U GUYS
↳ username and we all called u crazy 😭
↳ username no way you were actually right
username well there we have it. the confirmation we wanted lmao
oscarpiastri how did u take that picture?
↳ yourusername with talent and dedication baby 😎
username Lando and Magui could never 🤣
↳ yourusername get out of my comment section
↳ username get 'em girl
yourbff ig my invite got lost in the mail?? 🤨
↳ yourusername don't act like u weren't invited
↳ yourbff BY U NOT BY MCLAREN?!
lando who are you and why haven't we met yet? 🤨
↳ yourusername we did. when i was on facetime with osc that one time
↳ lando wait you're THE girl?
↳ yourusername yes i'm the girl 😭
username she calls him osc 🥹 oh my heart
mclaren
liked by yourusername, username, and 89,752 others
mclaren our favorite duo 🧡
view comments
username manifesting a lando win
↳ lnfour you and me both
username they're icons ur honor
username love the new suits 🧡
↳ mclaren Silverstone edition 🤫
username it's gonna be another 1-2 podium i can see it
oscarpiastri
liked by yourusername, mclaren, username and 4k others
oscarpiastri great race 🏎️ see u next week
yourusername posted a story!
[caption 1: good luck 🧡, caption 2: long day]
yourusername
liked by mclaren, yourbff, username and 2k others
yourusername secured another p1 🧡 u go angel
view comments
username Percyy ❤️
username bring Percy to more races
↳ yourusername can't. he gets overwhelmed by the loud noises but we're working on it 😊
yourbff my babyy look at himm 😩
yourbff miss u
↳ yourusername we miss u 2
username what camera do u use? every Oscar pic is so high quality tf
↳ yourusername i don't own a camera, i use my phone
↳ username your phone?! girlie 🤨
↳ username teach us how omg
oscarpiastri are you trying to become my personal photographer?
↳ yourusername i'm capturing memories osc and your insane beauty
↳ username oh she knows he's handsome 😂
lando hey where are my professional pics? ☹️
↳ yourusername ur payment didn't go through sir
↳ lando Oscar gets it for free and i have to pay?!
↳ username1 in this economy she needs the money
❤️ by yourusername
username @yourusername bless us with more Oscar pics pls. the hot ones
↳ yourusername i gotchu dw
yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, yourbff, username and 3k others
yourusername cursed n blessed 💜
view comments
username love the messages in every post lmao 😭
username i didn't know Oscar was this good with words
↳ username no lowkey same
yourbff that math homework is horrendous
↳ yourusername tell me abt it
username what do u study?
↳ yourusername engineering 🥲
↳ username can u be any more perfect?
↳ username u were made for Oscar
username the bouquets get better every weekend
↳ username *bigger would be a better word for them
↳ yourbff having a rich boyfriend has its benefits
↳ username fr 😭 i want one
↳ yourbff so do i
lando what the hell is that?
↳ yourusername maths
↳ lando ain't no way.. that's death
↳ username close to death yeah
❤️ by yourusername
username whose dog is that?
↳ yourusername my mom's
↳ username he met her parents yall 😭
↳ username so did she
↳ username at the races surely
yourbff
liked by yourusername, username, and 6k others
yourbff on babysitting duty 🩷
view comments
username percyy 🩷
username best babysitter ever
❤️ by yourbff
username where's yn?
↳ username probably with Oscar somewhere
↳ username or she just wanted a break
username 🩷🩷🩷
username those cupcakes look delicious 😋
↳ yourbff they were
yourusername & oscarpiastri
liked by mclaren, yourbff, lando and 700k others
yourusername graduated n got married 😜
view comments
username HELLO?? WHAT WHEN HUH
username OMG OMG OMG
username parents 😍
mclaren Congrats Mr. and Mrs. Piastri 🧡
↳ yourusername omg that sounds crazy 😭 thank u admin
lando WHERE
lando WAS
lando MY
lando INVITE
↳ yourusername it probably got lost in the mail
↳ lando PARDON
yourbff AHH
yourbff can't believe you're literally MARRIED.. to an F1 DRIVER
❤️ by oscarpiastri
yourbff what is our life 😭
↳ yourusername chaotic. it'll always be chaotic
f1 congratulations! 🎉 can't wait to see u in the paddock tomorrow
username how many secrets do u guys have?
↳ yourusername a lot my love, a lot
username i can't believe my fav driver got married 😭 to a farmer of all people
↳ username to an engineer too don't forget
username1 HA I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG
❤️ by yourusername
username she got a degree and a husband while i can't get a man to text me back 💀
↳ username same babe
oscarpiastri what else do you have on that list of yours?
↳ yourusername well.. steal osc's last name? ✅ get a dog with osc? ✅ get a degree in engineering to impress osc? ✅ watch osc win wdc? i can check that off atp
↳ oscarpiastri you're a menace. i love it
↳ username u guys are making me sick
↳ username "steal osc's last name?" 😭😭
↳ lando take professional pictures of lando this weekend FOR FREE should be on there
↳ yourusername u won't let it go will u?
↳ lando nope 😁
username they started dating like 2 months ago and are already getting married?
↳ username we don't know how long they've been dating
↳ yourusername 2 months? more like 29
↳ username excuse you? how long?
↳ username 29?! how did we not notice 😭
↳ username u guys are secretive holy shit
username they're such an unexpected combo ngl. he's quiet, she's loud. he races, she lives on a farm. like.. how
↳ username1 that's why it works. they complete each other. she is the color and buzz in his life while he is the calm and quiet she seeks at the end of the day
i know requests are closed, but i just want to send this in incase i forget 💕
oscar winning the championship, he celebrates with his girl, the reader, after. fast forward a couple weeks, they found out they're pregnant, i think it'll be hilarious if it were triplets! fans are starting to think something bad happened to reader, because they haven’t appeared at the paddock in months. but then they just post about the birth of the triplets 9 months after abu dhabi, and everyone just starts clowning oscar. 💕
Our Little Podium - OP81
pairing: oscar piastri x fem!gf!reader
summary: Oscar wins the World Championship in Abu Dhabi, and he and Y/N celebrate accordingly. Fast forward a few months: Y/N has vanished from the paddock, F1 Twitter is convinced she’s a spy for Ferrari, and Oscar is up at 3 AM googling the aerodynamics of a triple stroller.
wc: 3.2k
💭 this one will stay as a standalone :)
The radio crackles, cutting through the deafening roar of the crowd, but to you, everything else sounds underwater.
"P1, Oscar. P1. You are the World Champion!"
Tom Stallard’s voice is cracking, losing its usual composure, and that’s what finally breaks the dam. You’ve been crying since lap 55, tears silently tracking through your makeup, but now? Now you are openly sobbing into your hands, huddled at the back of the garage near the monitors.
On the screen, Oscar screams—a raw, uncharacteristically loud release of tension that sends shivers down your spine.
You don't wait for the team to organize. You’re running toward Parc Fermé before the car even comes to a full halt.
The atmosphere is electric. Fireworks are exploding over the Yas Marina Circuit, painting the night sky in gold and red, but your eyes are locked on the papaya car. Oscar climbs out, standing on the halo, punching the air. He looks like a titan. He looks unstoppable.
But then he hops down, and the first thing he does—before acknowledging the mechanics, before weighing in, before removing his helmet—is scan the crowd. His head whips left and right, frantic.
He’s looking for you.
You push past a camera operator, slipping through the gap in the barriers. "Oscar!"
He freezes. Even with the helmet on, you can feel his gaze lock onto you. He rips the helmet off, his hair a mess of sweat, his face flushed with the purest joy you have ever seen.
You run. He doesn’t wait. He steps forward, meeting you halfway, and the collision is desperate.
He doesn't just hug you; he scoops you up. One arm around your waist, the other supporting your legs, he lifts you completely off the asphalt.
"We did it!" he yells, his voice hoarse, burying his face in your neck. He spins you around—once, twice—right there on the track. Your feet dangle in the air, and for a moment, the world is just a blur of floodlights and papaya.
"You did it," you sob, clinging to his race suit, not caring about the sweat or the smell of burnt rubber. "You're the champion, Os."
He sets you down but keeps his forehead pressed against yours, oblivious to the cameras circling you like sharks.
"We did it, love," he corrects you, his breathing heavy, his hands trembling slightly against your back. "We."
The next few hours are a blur of champagne, interviews, and flashing lights. But there is a pattern to the chaos.
Oscar is pulled away to weigh in. Five minutes later, he’s back at your side, pressing a kiss to your temple.
Oscar is dragged off to the podium. As soon as the anthem ends and the champagne is sprayed, he’s looking down at the crowd, pointing right at you.
Oscar is ushered into the team photo. He refuses to take it until you are standing right next to him, his arm draped possessively over your shoulder.
Throughout the garage celebrations, the team starts making bets on how long he can stay away from you. The answer is never more than five minutes. He slips away from billionaire sponsors and team principals just to find you in the corner, holding your face in his hands, kissing you like he needs to recharge his battery.
"I have to go do the media pen," he whispers against your lips, smelling of sticky rosewater and victory. "Wait for me?"
"Always," you smile, wiping a smudge of champagne off his cheek.
You stand off to the side, watching the press conference on a monitor. Oscar is sitting in the center seat, the World Drivers' Championship trophy gleaming in front of him. He looks exhausted but radiant.
"Oscar," a journalist from Sky Sports asks, "you stayed incredibly calm all season, but tonight we saw a lot of emotion. What kept you grounded during those final, stressful laps?"
Oscar doesn't hesitate. A soft, genuine smile breaks across his face—the kind usually reserved only for you.
"My girlfriend, Y/N," he says into the microphone. A collective aww ripples through the room. "She’s been my rock. Honestly, she’s my lucky charm. I don't think I could have kept my head straight without her in the garage."
You press a hand to your heart, feeling fresh tears prick your eyes as the press swoons over the answer.
It’s 3:00 AM when you finally get back to the hotel room. The adrenaline is fading, leaving behind a heavy, happy exhaustion. Oscar places the heavy trophy on the dresser and immediately turns to you.
He looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees weak.
"I meant it, you know," he says softly, walking over to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into the quiet of the room. "I wouldn't be standing here, holding that trophy, without you."
You reach up, running your fingers through his hair. "You did the driving, Mr. World Champion."
"And you gave me a reason to drive fast so I could get back to you," he mumbles, leaning down to kiss you deeply. "Best night of my life."
You smile into the kiss, having no idea that in a few weeks, your lives are going to get even crazier.
The high of the championship hasn’t worn off, but the adrenaline has. Now, it’s just the lazy, golden haze of the off-season. You are currently in Australia, staying at his family’s place, supposedly to "relax."
But this morning, relaxation is the last thing on your mind.
You wake up feeling... off. Not sick, exactly, just strange. A weird flutter in your stomach, a sensitivity to the smell of Oscar’s coffee brewing downstairs that makes you dizzy. You slip out of bed while Oscar is still downstairs and take the test you bought yesterday "just in case."
You leave it on the bathroom sink, too nervous to look, and go back to bed, pulling the duvet over your head.
Five minutes later, Oscar walks into the bedroom. He’s holding two mugs of coffee, wearing nothing but sweatpants, looking every bit the relaxed champion. He heads into the en-suite to brush his teeth.
You hear the water run. Then the water stops abruptly.
Silence.
A very long, very heavy silence.
Then, a clatter, like he dropped his toothbrush.
"BABE."
It’s not his usual calm, race-engineer voice. It’s high-pitched.
He bursts out of the bathroom, holding the little plastic stick like it’s a live grenade. His eyes are wide, his face pale but flushing pink at the cheeks.
"THERE’S TWO LINES."
You sit up, heart hammering against your ribs. "Is it... is it faint? Or dark?"
"It’s... it’s very red, Y/N! It’s two lines!" He stammers, rushing over to the side of the bed. He looks at the test, then at you, then back at the test. "That means... that means we..."
"We're having a baby," you whisper.
Oscar freezes. The panic in his eyes melts instantly, replaced by a glassy, overwhelming emotion. He drops the test on the nightstand and practically collapses onto the bed next to you.
"A baby," he repeats, his voice cracking.
He pulls you into a hug so tight it knocks the breath out of you. You can feel him shaking. When he pulls back, there are tears in his eyes—the second time you’ve seen him cry in two weeks.
"We made a tiny human," he laughs, a wet, joyful sound. "I’m going to be a dad."
"A World Champion dad," you smile, wiping a tear from his cheek.
"I don't care about the trophy anymore," he says immediately, looking at you with intense seriousness. "This beats the trophy."
For the rest of the morning, Oscar is glued to you.
Weirdly, he’s already acting like you’re six months along. He keeps his hand flat against your stomach, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the fabric of your shirt, even though your belly is completely flat.
"Oscar, it’s the size of a poppy seed," you laugh, trying to get up to make breakfast.
"Careful," he says, gently pushing you back down. "I’ll make the toast. You and the... poppy seed... need to rest."
Later that night, you find him on the couch with his phone, brows furrowed in deep concentration—the same face he makes when analyzing telemetry data.
"What are you looking up?" you ask, peering over his shoulder.
He jumps slightly, angling the screen toward you. The Google search bar reads: when can baby hear my voice??
"It says 18 weeks," he says, sounding disappointed. "That’s so far away."
He looks at your stomach again, then leans down, putting his mouth right against your belly button.
"Hello?" he whispers. "This is your dad. I drive fast cars. Please be nice to your mum."
You giggle, running a hand through his hair. "You’re ridiculous."
"I’m prepared," he corrects, looking up at you with a grin that could light up the entire Melbourne grid. "I think we’re going to be good at this."
Little does he know, he's going to need a lot more than preparation. He’s asking the baby to be nice, not realizing there are three of them in there.
The room is dim, lit only by the glow of the ultrasound monitor. The gel on your stomach is freezing, but your hand is sweating because Oscar is holding it so tight he might actually break your fingers.
He’s staring at the screen with the same intensity he uses for Turn 1 at Monaco.
The doctor moves the wand around, humming softly. Then, she stops. She frowns, leans closer to the screen, and adjusts the contrast. She moves the wand again, pressing a little harder.
The silence in the room stretches for ten seconds.
Oscar’s grip tightens painfully. "Is... is everything okay?" rarely does his voice sound this small. "Is there a heartbeat?"
The doctor turns to you both, her expression unreadable for a split second before softening into a professional smile.
"Oh, yes. There are heartbeats." She pauses. "Actually, that was why I was checking again. I wanted to be sure."
She points to the grainy blobs on the screen.
"Well... both are healthy."
Oscar blinks, his brain buffering. "Both?"
"And the third one too," she continues cheerfully, moving the cursor to a smaller shadow behind the first two. "Congratulations... they’re triplets."
SILENCE.
Absolute, vacuum-sealed silence.
You stare at the screen, your mouth falling open, trying to comprehend the math. Three. Three humans.
Oscar, however, has simply ceased to function. He literally stops breathing. His chest doesn’t move for a full five seconds. He is staring at the doctor as if she just told him he has to drive a tricycle in the next Grand Prix.
"Three?" you manage to squeak out.
Oscar’s eyes are wide, unblinking. He looks from the screen to your stomach, then back to the screen. His face has gone a shade of pale that usually indicates food poisoning.
He leans back in his chair, exhaling a breath he’d been holding since the doctor frowned. He runs a hand down his face, dragging the skin.
"We celebrated too hard..."
He whispers it. It’s a low, horrified realization spoken into the quiet room.
"Oscar!" you burst out laughing, the shock breaking into hysteria.
The doctor starts chuckling, wiping the gel off your belly. "It happens more often than you think with natural conception, but yes, it’s quite a surprise."
Oscar isn't laughing yet. He’s looking at his hands. "Three seats," he mutters to himself. "We need a car with three back seats. Do they make baby racing suits in bulk?"
Then, he looks at you, seeing you laughing with tears in your eyes. The terror finally cracks, and a bewildered grin spreads across his face. He starts to laugh too—a nervous, slightly manic chuckle that grows into a full laugh.
"Triplets," he shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, though he looks like he might faint. "I’m going to need a bigger trophy cabinet. And a lot more coffee."
The Formula 1 season is well underway, but something—or rather, someone—is missing.
You haven’t been seen at a Grand Prix in four months. You haven't been in the background of McLaren’s "Unboxed" videos. You haven't even been spotted at the airport.
Naturally, F1 Twitter has lost its collective mind.
The internet has turned into a digital crime board connected by red string.
@.piastrifan3 Guys, Oscar looked at his phone during the post-race cool down room and didn’t smile ONCE. They definitely broke up. Love is dead. I’m burning my merch.
@.user45 Hear me out: She was seen wearing red 6 months ago. She’s currently in Maranello training to be a strategist for Ferrari. She’s a double agent. Wake up sheeple.
@.user12 McLaren is hiding something. Is she the new stig? Is she driving the spare car? WHERE IS SHE ZAK BROWN?
@.f1fan5 Y'all are blind. She’s pregnant. Look at Oscar’s interviews. He has that 'I’m terrified and tired' dad energy already. 100% confirmed.
While the internet debates if you are a spy for Ferrari, the reality is much less glamorous and much stickier.
It is 3:00 AM in your Monaco apartment.
You are sitting up in bed, surrounded by a fortress of pillows, balancing a tub of Ben & Jerry’s on your massive bump. The triplets are currently having a kick-boxing tournament against your ribs.
Oscar is sitting next to you, the blue light of his iPad illuminating his focused, frowning face. He is wearing his reading glasses, looking extremely serious.
"Babe," he says, breaking the silence.
"Hmm?" you mumble around a mouthful of cookie dough.
"Do we really need three cribs?"
You stop chewing. "Oscar. There are three babies."
"I know, but..." He turns the iPad toward you. "Look at the logistics. Three cribs take up 4.5 square meters. If we stack them... no, we can't stack them. But what if we get one mega crib?"
He taps the search bar. You can see his search history.
Oscar’s Google History:
triple stroller aerodynamics
how to hold 3 babies with 2 arms
noise cancelling headphones for infants
can triplets share one crib?? pls help
"They can't share one crib, Os," you sigh, patting his arm. "They will kick each other in the face. Like they are doing to me right now."
He sighs, defeated, and rubs his face. "Right. Strategy error. I'll go back to the drawing board."
He closes the tab on the "Mega Crib" and looks at your ice cream.
"Can I have a bite?"
"Get your own," you growl playfully, pulling the tub closer. "I'm eating for four. You're just stressed."
"I am stressed," he mumbles, resting his head on your shoulder. "The internet thinks we broke up. I saw a TikTok analyzing my eyebrows to prove I'm heartbroken."
"Let them talk," you grin, resting your spoon on the lid. "Just wait until they see the surprise."
It is a quiet Tuesday morning. There is no race this week. The F1 world is bored, still debating why you haven't been seen since testing.
Then, at exactly 10:00 AM, a notification pops up on millions of phones.
@.oscarpiastri just shared a post.
There is no warning. No "expecting" announcement. No gender reveal cake. Just the drop.
Monaco. A black and white, slightly grainy photo taken in your living room. It’s unpolished and raw.
You are sitting on the couch, hair in a messy bun, looking exhausted but blissfully happy, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a white blanket against your chest. Oscar is sitting on the floor next to your legs. He looks like he has been hit by a truck (in a good way). He has bags under his eyes, stubble on his chin, and—crucially—he is awkwardly holding two more bundles, one in the crook of each arm.
The expression on both your faces says: "We love them more than life itself, but we have slept 40 minutes in the last three days."
Caption: "Welcome to the world, our little podium. 🧡👶👶👶 P1, P2, and P3 arrived safely. (Send coffee.)"
The post stays up for 30 seconds before the comment section crashes. When it finally loads, it is pure chaos.
@.mclaren Getting three tiny fireproof suits ready immediately. We're going to need a bigger garage. 🧡🧡🧡
@.lando Bro… chill.
@.carlossainz55 🌶️🌶️🌶️ Ayo? Congratulations mate!
@.f1fan45 TRIPLETS??? WTF. I thought she was just hiding a bad haircut??
@.piastriszn "Bro didn't just celebrate. He CELEBRATED." The math is mathing. 9 months after Abu Dhabi exactly... Oscar you absolute legend.
@.danielricciardo Three?? Mate, you don’t do things by halves do you? Congrats!
@.lewishamilton Amazing news. Congratulations to you both.
@.gridgossip Oscar Piastri single-handedly repopulating the grid. By 2045 the entire podium will just be Piastris.
@.user99 Everyone was worried they broke up and meanwhile Oscar was fighting for his life changing three diapers at once 😭😭😭
Oscar tosses his phone onto the couch, ignoring the buzzing that sounds like a swarm of angry bees.
"Well," he yawns, leaning his head back against your knee. "Cat's out of the bag."
"The internet is going to clown you for the rest of your life," you whisper, careful not to wake the baby in your arms (Baby P1).
"Let them clown," Oscar smirks, looking down at the two sleeping babies in his arms. "I won the championship, and I got three trophies nine months later. I'd say that's a pretty good season."
"Go to sleep, Oscar."
"Can't," he whispers back. "P2 just grabbed my finger. I’m trapped forever."
For the first time in seventy-two hours, the apartment is silent. No crying, no bottle warmers beeping, no lullaby machines playing white noise at full volume. Just the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing.
You tiptoe out of the kitchen, clutching a lukewarm mug of tea, and stop in the doorway of the living room. The sight before you makes your heart squeeze so hard it actually aches.
Oscar is sprawled out on the big gray sectional. One arm is thrown over his eyes to block out the afternoon sun, his mouth slightly open in deep, exhaustion-fueled sleep.
Curled up right in the center of his chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing, is the third triplet. Oscar’s other hand is resting protectively over the baby’s tiny back, a reflex he doesn't even drop when he's unconscious.
You shift your gaze to the large playpen-bassinet combo set up near the window.
The other two are fast asleep, their heads turned toward each other. And there, in the space between them, their tiny fingers are interlaced. Holding hands.
You lean your head against the doorframe, letting out a long, shaky breath.
Your hair is a mess. You have a stain on your shoulder that is definitely spit-up. You haven't watched a race or checked the news in weeks. Your life is a blur of diapers, formula, and deciphering which cry means "hungry" and which cry means "I just want to scream."
But looking at them—your "Team Five"—you wouldn't trade a single second of the madness.
Oscar stirs. He doesn't open his eyes, but he shifts slightly, sensing your presence in the room. He pats the baby on his chest gently.
"Is everyone alive?" he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.
"Everyone is sleeping," you whisper back, smiling. "Go back to sleep, champ."
He hums, a satisfied sound, and settles deeper into the cushions. "Best off-season ever," he slurs, before drifting back off.
You take a sip of your tea, watching the sunlight dance over the three tiny faces that look so much like him.
He was right. He won the trophy in Abu Dhabi, the gold, the glory, the history books. But this? This messy, exhausting, loud, overwhelming life in your living room?
oscar piastri has somehow become part of the leclerc family, just… not for the reason everyone assumes.
pairing: oscar piastri x leclerc!fem reader
requested: yes!! hope this delivers
warnings: use of y/n, slightly inaccurate timeline for plot purposes, oscar piastri leclerc propaganda, mentions of alexandra and other members in charles’ family. also this is just for fun and obviously fiction, i'm not trying to reflect any person in real life ‹3
a/n: helloooo i promise i didn’t die. i’m slowly restarting requests <3 also brace yourselves because the next request i'm posting is pure angst...
MY MASTERLIST
oscarpiastri
Monaco
liked by ynleclerc and 424.325 others
oscarpiastri Another Monaco podium. On to Barca
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username1 i love you so much 🥲
username2 so nice to see oscar with his dad on the podium
ynleclerc 👏 ❤︎ liked by the author
⤷ username3 omg i didn’t know y/n and oscar were even friends
⤷ username4 the leclercs fully adopted him this weekend i fear
username5 1681 podium we cheered!!!
username6 father and son celebrating on the podium together
f1 The Piastri-Leclerc genes are strong 💪
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ynleclerc
Monte-Carlo, Monaco
liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 193.264 others
ynleclerc weekends at home 🤍
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username1 i missed you in the paddock pls don’t disappear again
alexandrasaintmleux ❤️❤️❤️❤️
⤷ username2 the most gorgeous girls
⤷ username3 i love their friendship
username4 my favorite leclerc, no competition ❤︎ liked by the author
arthur_leclerc Where did you get the cap?
⤷ ynleclerc some small brand
⤷ arthur_leclerc That's my cap
⤷ ynleclerc prove it
yourbff FORZA FERRARI
username5 i spot the same bracelet from charles’ post
⤷ charles_leclerc She stole it
⤷ ynleclerc borrowing isn't stealing
⤷ charles_leclerc It's been 3 months
⤷ username6 NOT THREE MONTHS 💀
username7 oscar likedddd
⤷ username8 they're probably just friends through charles and arthur
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ynleclerc updated their story
❤︎ liked by oscarpiastri, yourbff and others
view all replies
oscarpiastri
Hope they made you smile 😊
⤷ ynleclerc
maybe he just has good taste?? idk sounds possible
charles_leclerc
Did he send the giant bouquet on purpose to earn points or is this just his style?
⤷ ynleclerc
you literally know him
⤷ arthur_leclerc
That’s why I’m shocked
He used to be a dork who laughed at everything I said
Now he’s sending coordinated bouquets from Barcelona like some kind of professional romantic
arthur_leclerc
I can’t believe Oscar Piastri is sending my sister flowers
⤷ ynleclerc
i’ll let him know the approval committee said yes
lorenzotl
He has good taste
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alexandrasaintmleux
I love you 🫶🏻
oscarpiastri
Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya
liked by leclerc_pascale, ynleclerc and 1.011.608 others
oscarpiastri Enjoyable one that
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username1 p1 baby let’s gooooo
username2 you did it amazing im so so so so proud of you
username3 awwww charles’ mum liked this
⤷ username4 he’s fully integrated into that family it’s so sweet
username4 did i see…. ABS 🤯
ynleclerc well deserved 🥹🧡
⤷ oscarpiastri Thank you!
username5 that’s my world champion right there
charles_leclerc 👏👏👏 ❤︎ liked by the author
⤷ username6 charles supporting his adopted son
⤷ username7 this will never not be funny
username8 finally a smile 🙂↕️
arthur_leclerc Congrats 👏 ❤︎ liked by the author
username9 the entire leclerc family is in these likes i love it
⤷ username10 he’s one of them now
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op81updates
liked by username1, username2 and 187.44 others
op81updates oscar in a recent interview revealing that his french is actually quite good because charles' mum cuts his hair and doesn't speak english so they communicate in french 😭 #CanadianGP
Interviewer: "Last time we spoke, your French was a work in progress. How's it coming along?"
Oscar: laughs "I think my French is actually quite good now! Well, better than it was."
Interviewer: "Have you been practicing?"
Oscar: "Yeah, I've had some help and I've been putting it to use."
Interviewer: "Oh? How so?"
Oscar: "Well, I get my haircuts from Charles' mum, and she doesn't speak a single word of English."
Interviewer: surprised "And she understands you?"
Oscar: smiles "She does now! Took a bit at first."
Interviewer: "The Leclerc family must really like you."
Oscar: "I hope so."
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username1 mr worldwide (0.000000001% french)
username2 okay so the thread about yn and oscar is making more sense now
username3 hope he's getting a family discount at least
⤷ username4 FAMILY DISCOUNT I'M SCREAMING
⤷ username5 if he's dating yn he better be getting it for free
username6 they really get along well and that makes me soooo happy
username7 THAT'S SO FUCKING CUTEEEE
username8 well he IS a leclerc so that makes sense to me
username9 oscar piastri leclerccccc
username10 i really need to hear oscar speaking french
username11 omg pascale still cuts his hair I MOVED
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ynleclerc
So Easy (To Fall In Love) - Olivia Dean
liked by oscarpiastri, hattiepiastri and 127.849 others
ynleclerc this n that
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username1 the third pic 👀
username2 soft launching is an art form and she’s mastered it
alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍😍😍 ❤︎ liked by the author
username3 who’s the mystery man in pic 3
charlotte2304 Très belle 😍 ❤︎ liked by the author
yourbff he’s getting better at taking pics finally
⤷ ynleclerc yes i’m training him well
username4 WAIT OSCAR’S SISTER LIKED THIS
username5 i’m connecting dots 🕵️🕵️🕵️
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oscarpiastri
liked by ynleclerc and 881.626 others
oscarpiastri Prep week 💪
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username1 IS THIS WHAT WERE DOING NOW
username2 i hate when they know.
ynleclerc WJD+}.sS..DKFKR
this comment has been deleted
username3 learning the art of thirst traps you’re doing great keep it up
username4 oh my god did anyone saw y/n’s comment before she deleted it
⤷ username5 YES IT WAS JUST KEYSMASH I HAVE THE SCREENSHOT
⤷ username6 she really said sjdkfksk and then DELETED
⤷ username7 can’t blame her 😭😭
⤷ username8 i’m starting a new rumor as we speak
⤷ username9 y/n girl... come back... we’re not judging...
⤷ username10 proof she’s just as down bad as the rest of us
⤷ username11 she’s one of us fr
username12 never let your hair see a pair of scissors again!!
username13 i understand the product placement but ain’t nobody looking at that damn water bottle
⤷ username14 REAL
⤷ username15 what water bottle
username16 oscar you didn’t even TRY to pretend this was about training
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ynleclerc updates their close friends story
❤︎ liked by yourbff and others
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ynleclerc and alexandrasaintmleux updated their story
❤︎ liked by hattiepiastri and others
username1
are you going to spa??
⤷ ynleclerc
can’t wait!!
kikagomes
see you soon😍
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username2
spa weekend?
oscarpiastri
liked by ynleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 687.254 others
oscarpiastri Tough opponent on the way to Spa charles_leclerc
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username1 LEOOOOO omg cutie
username2 wait does this mean y/n and alex were with them??
⤷ username3 i think so, alex posted charles with leo on a plane and y/n posted clouds from a plane
⤷ username4 THEY WERE ALL TOGETHER
lando you lost to a dog ❤︎ liked by the author
username5 so we’re all just ignoring that oscar charles y/n and alex flew together
ynleclerc he won every round
⤷ oscarpiastri Can confirm
username6 Y/N WAS THERE I’M UNWELL
username7 sidequests??
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ynleclerc updated their story
❤︎ liked by arthur_leclerc and others
username1
best track on the calendar
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username2
girl we KNOW you’re not only there for ferrari don’t play with us
oscarpiastri
Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps
liked by ynleclerc, nicolepiastri and 1.273.830 others
oscarpiastri Did I mention I like Spa?
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username1 oscplaining was done
ausgp This win ATE ❤︎ liked by the author
username2 goat doing goat things
nicolepiastri So proud!!
⤷ oscarpiastri ❤️
username3 the way y/n was supporting charles but also probably dying to celebrate with oscar
ynleclerc you may have mentioned it
⤷ oscarpiastri Once or twice
⤷ username3 at this point you two just need to confirm it
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ynleclerc and oscarpiastri updated their story
❤︎ liked by charlotte2304 and others
⤷ ynleclerc
you literally exposed us to 50 million people so no
charles_leclerc
Where's my invitation to this dinner?
yourbff
why is he holding you like you're about to LEAVE he's got a grip
friend1
relax bro aint nobody takin her from u
username1
IS THAT OSCAR'S HAND
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username2
OSCAR AND Y/N POSTING AT THE SAME TIME THIS IS NOT A DRILL
oscarpiastri
liked by ynleclerc, lando and 2.847.936 others
oscarpiastri Summer break so far ☀️
tagged user: ynleclerc
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username1 OSCAR PIASTRI HARD LAUNCH
username2 HE REALLY JUST DID THAT
username3 oscar really said I’M MARRIED 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️
ynleclerc 🤍☀️
username4 i thought he was becoming a bonus leclerc brother not… this????
⤷ username5 we were NOT expecting this from him but we will adapt
username6 can oscar fight??? 😮💨
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ynleclerc
liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 325.793 others
ynleclerc my family approves 😋
tagged user: oscarpiastri
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username1 i’m pretending not to scream at the last pic thanks
charles_leclerc ✅
⤷ arthur_leclerc ✅
⤷ lorenzotl ✅
username2 remember when she keysmashed on his gym post and we all knew
oscarpiastri They do?
⤷ ynleclerc you passed the test months ago
⤷ oscarpiastri Could've told me that
⤷ ynleclerc where's the fun in that
username3 "my family approves" girl they ADOPTED him
