whos gonna kiss the brown haired girls

The Human Battery - YT22

pairing: yuki tsunoda x fem!gf!reader summary: Yuki is exhausted after a race week, and you are the only charger that works. wc: 541 💭 this one will stay as a standalone :)

Yuki didn’t say a word when he walked through the door.

He simply dropped his gym bag in the hallway with a heavy thud, kicked off his shoes, and made a beeline for where you were sitting on the couch. You barely had time to look up from your book before he was there, collapsing on top of you like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

☆ lia's birthday & christmas advent calendar

day 6: drunk x oscar (op81)

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☆ warnings: very horny!oscar x bratty!reader, unprotected p in v, huge praise kink, exhibitionism?, possessive undertones, dirty talk, implied multiple rounds, bonus morning scene ⋆ inspo: (x) (x) (x) (x)

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oscar <3: heading home soon. :)) oscar <3: miss you. oscar <3: you're so pretty.

you know he’s drunk the moment your phone lights up.

not because of typos, he’s still too annoyingly precise for that, but just the pattern of his messages. the multiple messages being sent right after each other, the extra parentheses in his smiley face. yeah, he's drunk.

and that’s when you smile, because oscar barely ever texts like that, unless the room is spinning a little and he’s pretending it isn’t. he had the drivers' dinner, and by the time you hear his keys fumble at the door, you’re already leaning against the hallway wall. your arms crossed, cheekily waiting.

he steps inside with that his shirt slightly more unbuttoned than it was before he left home. his cheeks are warm, hair a bit messy. he doesn't look wrecked or sloppy, just a bit more loose than usual. a version of him you don't see so often.

"hi.” he grins.

you raise a brow. “hi.”

he walks straight to you, without any hesitation. just gravitates towards you with his two hands sliding to around waist, pulling you in. and that’s when you feel it, the way his hips brush against yours and the way his breath catches at the subtle friction.

“oh my god, osc.” you murmur. “you’re horny.”

he hides his face in your neck like it’s a confession. "…maybe a little.”

you giggle because he’s lying. he’s hard, fully and uncontrollably fucking hard.

“did you have fun tonight?” you ask.

“mhm,” he’s not hearing a word. his fingers are already pressing into your hips and his eyes are glued to your tits. “missed you.”

it’s the way he says it, so unfiltered and raw that it implies that he missed more than just your presence. it makes stomach flutter.

he pulls back just enough to look at you properly, and that’s when you see it. he has his brown pupils blown wide and a pink flush crawling from his cheeks down to his throat.

youu thumb his cheek lightly. “you’re staring.”

“i can’t help it,” his voice drops. “you look so fucking good, you smell good too.”

your breath hitches. oscar doesn’t talk like that, definitely not when sober.

you tap his lean chest. “okay. what happened tonight?”

his eyes dart away and his hand rubs the back of his neck. oh, he is embarrassed.

“baby…” he groans, already regretting it. “you’re gonna make fun of me.”

“oh, i absolutely am.”

he sits on the arm of the couch, with a light sense of shame like he’s a little boy waiting to be told off.

"the guys were talking about sex.”

there’s a pause.

“like… a lot.”

you grin. your polite, proper boyfriend got influenced by his friends and by the beautiful effects of alcohol. fucking hilarious.

“so you joined?”

“not on purpose!” he insists. “they started talking about their girlfriends and i wasn’t going to but then we started taking some shots and i-"

he shuts his eyes, muttering, “fuck.”

“what did you tell them?” you ask sweetly, almost condescendingly.

he drops his face into his hands. “too much.”

“like?”

he peeks at you between his fingers, cheeks bright pink. “that our sex is always amazing.”

your smile widens. oscar piastri, your calm and collected boyfriend was drunk bragging about your sex. “and…?”

“that you’re… stupidly attractive.” he swallows hard. “and that we’re a little… kinky.”

you snort. “oscar piastri.”

“i didn’t mean to!” he protests. “they were bragging about how dominant they are and i just… i might’ve said you’re a brat sometimes.”

“oh? and what else?”

he groans. “baby, please.”

“tell me.”

he licks his dry lips, accepting his fate. “i said i handle you.”

your thighs press together. he sees it, and his pupils dilate even more.

“and how exactly do you handle me?” you push.

he bites his lip anxiously. “well… jesus. i told them you like when i take control.”

your breath hitches. the idea of your boyfriend bragging about you is suddenly getting you a lot more hot and bothered than you initially expected.

“and?”

his throat bobs as he swallows again. “and that you like when i pin you down. and when you act up and i-fuck.”

he shakes his head. “i shouldn’t have said that.”

your smile at him. your eyes so bratty, determined to make the most of oscar's lust.

“awh, so you wanted to show off to your friends what a big strong boy you are?”

fuck.

his jaw goes slack and his breath stutters. suddenly, whatever little restraint he had left evaporates. oscar's hand grabs onto your waist, pulling you between his knees.

“don’t say shit like that to me right now.”

“why?” you tease. “does it make you horny? do i make you horny?”

he looks up at you. his eyes dark, desperate and just so fucking gone.

“i’ve been fucking hard since dessert,” he confesses, voice deep and slightly slurred with honesty. “literally just thinking about you. thinking about telling them how good you are for me. how good you sound when i-”

he bites his lip, losing the sentence. “oh my god.”

your fingers slide into his hair. “oscar?”

he grabs your hips so harshly and his voice breaks. "i want you, now.”

“you can have all of me, osc.”

he stands so fast you nearly stumble. his mouth crashes into yours, hot and messy. he’s already walking you backwards down the hall, hands everywhere. he's so touchy, all over your waist, your ass and your neck.

“been thinking about you straddling me. about your mouth. about the way you whine when i pull your hair.”

he pushes you against the bedroom door, kissing you like he’s a teenager again. hands all over, with no patience. he slips his hand between your legs over your clothes and presses onto your core. you tug at his shirt as soon as you feel the pressure on your clothed clit.

he pushes you onto the bed and climbs over you. he's kissing your throat and your chest, sucking irresponsible marks that sober oscar will feel bad about in the morning.

his hands roam over your body, cupping your tits, sliding down your waist and gripping your thighs. he's pinning you against the bed as he buries his face in your neck.

“you’re genuinely so fucking hot,” his hand pushes down your underwear and he slips his fingers warmly inside your cunt. “fuck. wet already? you like that i bragged about you?”

you whimper at the feeling, slightly shy. he laughs softly against your neck.

“of course you do." he murmurs against your skin. “i told them how bratty you can be. how you tease, and how i handle you. how you beg, and i- fuck. i’ve been thinking about it all night.”

you arch against him, biting your lip as your legs wrap around him to cage him closer to your body. “showing off what strong a boy you are got you this worked up?”

“fuck. yes,” he groans. “you make me want to fuck you senseless.”

you trail your hands down his back, nails lightly grazing his skin. he fumbles with his belt, unbuttoning his pants as he groans into your ear.

“been thinking about your little bratty attitude that you get. about how i hold you down, how you love it even when you pretend to fight me.”

you gasp, fingers threading through his hair. “oh god, osc.”

he's so clumsy but with intent. not gentle but eager, and just so greedy, almost like he's discovering you all over again. his fingers work you open while he grinds against your thigh, shamelessly seeking friction.

“you make my cock throb,” he admits, voice thin with need. “fuck baby, i’m so hard it hurts.”

he’s never talked like this. oscar is never this filthy, never this shameless.

you tug at his belt.

“then fuck me, osc. please.”

you're always just so good to him. he quickly pulls his own pants down and pushes your legs open. he plays clumsily with your clit, frantic and desperate. then, he slides his throbbing cock inside you and stops after a single thrust. he's breathing hard, eyes shut and simply overwhelmed.

“oh fuck.” his forehead drops to your shoulder. “too good. too fucking good, jesus christ.”

he's consuming all of you with his hands, mouth, cock, everything at once. he continues, and each desperate thrust is just for him, just for the pure pleasure of feeling you wrapped around his throbbing cock.

he's moving without any rhythm, just need and lust. dirty, sloppy thrusts into your cunt that make the headboard bang against the wall. your nails dig into his back.

"god, i got hottest girl, the naughtiest girl, the best fuck. you make me hard just by looking at me. i want you so bad. i told them how bratty you can be, how i have to hold you down. how you beg when i’m rough. fuck, you make me so hard- i want to cum inside you.”

his words, his heat, his desperation. it's all too much, as he slams his cock into you. every thrust is messy and just so greedy.

“oscar, fuck-”

“i’m sorry,” he pants. “i’m fuck- i’m not gonna last. you feel too good, baby. you feel so fucking good-”

you pull him closer. “it’s okay osc, just enjoy it.”

“no.” his voice cracks. “i wanted to take my time, i swear i did. but fuck, the way your cunt feels and the way you look, and the way you’re moaning."

he's a rambling mess as buries himself deep, quickly cumming with a broken moan against your neck. his release is loud and messy, hips stuttering and hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to hold himself together. he collapses on top you, so fucking embarrassed.

“oh my god.” he hides his face in your chest. “i’m so sorry.”

you stroke his hair.

“baby,” you laugh softly. “you came in like two minutes.”

he groans. "don’t fucking remind me.”

you kiss his forehead, so sticky and warm. “it was hot.”

he looks up at you, eyes soft but hazy. “you really think so? you're so weird, baby.”

you giggle. “you were so worked up, it’s cute.”

"cute? you're unreal. you look so good right now."

"drunk oscar would say that to anyone.”

he tilts his head.

“no, drunk oscar says things he’s too shy to say sober. like how how i want to fuck you again even though you just milked my cock within two minutes.”

fuck.

“round two,” he murmurs. “i’m giving you a proper one.”

“sober osc style, hm?”

“no.” a slow smile spreads across his face. “drunk oscar style. the one who bragged all night about how well you take my cock.”

⸻ ☆☆☆

the next morning

you wake up first. ironic, considering the way oscar destroyed your sleep schedule last night.

oscar's faceis buried in your chest, one arm slung across your waist. typical clingy oscar when drunk. you brush your fingers through his messy hair and he groans softly, nuzzling closer like a cat.

then, he freezes. he slowly lifts his head and blinks at you.

“…morning.”

you smile. “morning.”

he looks down at your naked bodies tangled together. “oh no.”

you bite your lip to hold back a laugh but he notices.

“don’t laugh at me,” he says, hiding his face behind your shoulder. “i know i was a menace.”

“hm, that you were.” you confirm with a wide grin.

he groans into your skin. “fuck, i remember. it’s like watching someone else ruin my reputation.”

"you said many things.”

"oh god, please let's just forget about it.”

you raise a brow. “like how you told lando you manhandle me when i’m brattier than usual.”

oscar physically cringes. he slaps a hand over his face so aggressively, trying to hide his shame.

“i did not…"

“you did.”

and he’s red. not pink, pure fucking red. “jesus fucking christ."

you stretch innocently. "oh, and how we're we’re kinky. how i’m sooo hot. how you’re a strong boy.”

he falls backward onto his pillow with a little groan.

"i meant i manhandle you,” he corrects all flustered. “i did not say ‘strong boy', that sounds like something a toddler says about lifting a chair.”

he cuts himself off, blinking. he looks at you slowly and smiles. his blush deepens.

“you really liked what i said? i thought it was all so cringe.”

“oh, it’s extremely cringe.”

he closes his eyes. “fuck.”

you whisper into his ear, mimicking his drunk words. "baby, you make my cock throb.”

oscar's eyes widen in pure fucking shame. “no. nope. absolutely not. i’m breaking up with myself.”

you burst into laughter and after some minutes of suffering, he finally peeks at you.

“you really liked it, didn’t you?”

you kiss him softly. “very much.”

his expression softens into that warm, gentle oscar smile. "...i wasn’t too much, was i?”

you shake your head. “not at all, osc.”

he exhales in relief, pulling you closer. “god. i need to apologise to the guys.”

“you absolutely will not,” you argue, climbing on top of him. “they got you drunk, let them suffer.”

he laughs, still kinda shy. his hands slide up your thighs, settling on your hips.

“so i said all that and embarrassed myself, and you’re still climbing on top of me first thing in the morning?”

you lean down until your noses touch. “obviously.”

“…round three?”

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