let me be your distraction
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oscar piastri has been in love with his best friend for god knows how long. when your ex starts approaching you, you let oscar be your distraction.
starring 𖦹 oscarpiastri x fem!bestfriend!reader
warnings 𖦹 minors dni!!! smuuut… p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls), softdom!oscar, manhandling (if you squint), lmk any others!
word count 𖦹 2.0k+
oscarszn radio 𖦹 first work posted on this account!!! please enjoy!
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The party noise, a dull roar of music and chatter, seemed to fade into a distant hum for Oscar Piastri. Currently engaged in a subtle but intense internal battle right beside the kitchen's overflowing drinks table. Not only was he listening to his best friend, but he was hypnotically focused on your mouth the entire time you spoke. He couldn’t fathom what had taken hold of him, but there was an utterly captivating quality to the way your lips moved, the slight emphasis you had put on certain words, and the whole rhythm of your speaking. It was driving him quietly, delightfully crazy.
Then, the spell broke.
“Oh my fucking god…” you suddenly hissed, eyes widened, voice dropping to a sharp whisper. “He’s here…”
A shot of cold determination coursed through Oscar. He didn't need a name; he knew exactly who he was. Oscar easily spotted your scumbag of an ex in the middle of the room, walking towards you. And Oscar was certainly not about to allow that interaction to happen. His instincts, usually so measured and cool, took over with a fierce, protective urgency.
Without a second thought, he reached out, his touch soft yet firm, and curled his fingers around the delicate curve of your elbow. Gently but swiftly, he guided you away from the kitchen's light and noise, navigating them through the crowd and into a small, mercifully empty bathroom.
He released your arm and leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rasp that cut through the muffled beat of the music bleeding through the door. “Don’t think about him,” Oscar murmured, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that surprised even him. “You need a distraction. Let me be your distraction.”
The boldness of the words hung in the charged air. He hadn't rehearsed it; the phrase had sprung from a deep, desperate impulse. He waited, his heart thumping against his ribs, wondering if he'd just completely ruined everything. The sharp breath you took was his answer. The air in the tiny room crackled, an almost tangible electricity thrumming between them. They were face-to-face, the cramped confines of the room forcing an exhilarating proximity.
Your eyes, wide and luminous, searched for him for a long beat before you let out a shaky, almost breathless whisper. “Okay.”
And with that single word, the last remaining space between them ceased to exist as Oscar closed the gap.
The kiss took you by surprise. Never in a million years would you have thought you’d be kissing your best friend in a small bathroom of a house party, and the best friend just so happens to be Oscar freaking Piastri. But oh, what a long time coming.
He kissed like he was learning you, gentle pressure and the faintest tug of teeth at your bottom lip, followed by the soothing sweep of his tongue just barely tracing the seam of your mouth. Not pushing, just exploring, just feeling. Your breath hitched, and he swallowed it like a secret. Pulling away from you, foreheads touching, “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”
“Show me then,” you replied, a sudden, unfamiliar boldness in your own voice.
The kiss, still unhurried, but firmer now, deepened. More certain. His lips slanted over yours, lingering between each slow pass. He kissed like it mattered. Like he wasn’t afraid of taking his time.
Your top bunched at your hips as his hands moved beneath it, fingers warm against your waist. You shivered, every inch of you hyper sensitive. Every place he touched felt marked.
He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, breathless. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
You shook your head instantly, hands curling into the hem of his shirt. “I don’t.”
That was all he needed.
He stood, one arm around your waist, the other underneath your thighs, and he lifted you up on the counter.
“I’ve dreamt of this. You.” He said softly. And he kissed you like he was done waiting.
Your lips parted under his, and he deepened it without hesitation. You felt him everywhere. Your skin, your ribs, your pulse.
You tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head and toss it somewhere on the floor. You traced the contoured lines of his abdomen. He was beautiful. And he was looking at you like you were too.
Then he was kissing you again, more insistent now, like he was touch starved and only you could cure his hunger. His mouth moved to your jaw, then your neck, and your hands tightened against his broad back as his lips moved.
He reached for your top, tugging it gently over your head. As the fabric slipped free, his fingers brushed along your collarbone.
You pulled him back in without thinking. One of his arms around your waist, guiding you closer until their skin met, warm and unguarded. His fingers grazed the curve of your breast, a featherlight touch over the fabric of your bra, then slipped beneath it. The soft pads of his fingers brushed over your nipple, and you arched into the contact like it was instinct, as if your body had been waiting for this moment.
Oscar dipped his head, mouth finding the swell of your breast, kissing a trail so tender it made your breath catch in your throat. Your hands curled into his shoulders, grounding yourself as his touch roamed lower. His thumb hooked under the waistband of your shorts, dragging just enough to make your pulse stutter.
Then he looked at you. A pause, a question in his eyes that didn’t need words.
You nodded. Lifted your hips in quiet invitation.
His fingers gripped the waistband and slid your shorts down, slow and deliberate. They landed somewhere on the floor, forgotten. You lay back on the counter in nothing but your bra and panties, yet somehow you didn’t feel bare. Not with the way he looked at you. Not with how gently he touched you.
Fingers found the button of his jeans, eyes flicking up to meet his.
When he didn’t stop you, you undid it. Slow. And then the zipper, and pushed them down past his hips. He stepped out without a word. Your bra clasp gave under your fingers, and you let it fall away, heart hammering.
He lowered himself onto you again, peppering your chest and stomach with light brushes of his lips. You watched him through half lidded eyes as he placed a kiss right above the fabric of your panties.
You groaned at the pace. Swinging your leg over his and pressed your hips together, tugging his lips to yours again. He exhaled hard against your mouth, and the sound went straight through you.
“Needy,” he mumbled between them. His voice was rough, sending shivers down your back.
You ground your hips against his, pulling a sound from both of them. You felt him hard against you and Oscar’s hand tightened on your waist before his hand went lower, his thumb dragging beneath the fabric of your panties before it made contact with your clit.
Your hips jerked into his hand as you gasped. His thumb pushed harder, hesitant at first, but then with confidence as a moan left your mouth. He moved his finger in circles and you felt pleasure like you never experienced before.
Oscar’s breath was heavy, his pupils dilated, and his face flush. You thought he looked perfect.
Your head fell to the crook of his neck as you breathed against his pulse, hips grinding against his in search of more friction.
His thumb continued to make teasing movements right where you needed him and you could feel yourself start to unravel.
You reached between yourselves and cupped him over his boxers. He hissed as his hips bucked into your hand, his movement against your clit stuttered. When he recovered, he tugged at your panties and you rose just enough to have them slip down your legs.
You were bare against him, and he looked at you like you were the only thing he wanted to see, like this moment would be sitting behind his eyes for days.
The hand placed on your back, tugged you forward again. Your lips meeting together in a sloppy, reverent kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, warm and insistent. You kissed him harder.
Your hips ground against him again, searching for the missing friction, he groaned into her mouth. Through the kiss, you blindly grasped his waistband, and tugged it down, his arousal springing free in between them.
You didn’t waste time sinking onto it. Identical moans were let out as you shifted slightly to adjust to his size. His fingers tug into the skin on your hips. Your hands journeyed every inch of him that you could reach.
“Shit, __. Fuck,” Oscar sighed, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against the side of your neck.
You squirmed and placed an open mouth kiss beneath his ear. “Oscar… please.”
He visibly shivered and started guiding your hips with slow, deliberate hands, as if savouring every second of closeness. You matched his pace, grinding against him.
He always looked so infuriatingly in control. But the sound he made when you kissed down his throat? That soft, helpless exhale? That was yours. And it thrilled you more than anything.
Your chests were pushed together. Your hands wove into his hair, tugging at the strands on his scalp. He watched you with parted lips and fierce brown eyes. His cheeks were stained pink, like how he got when he was worked up or fueled with adrenaline.
You loved the sight of him. Messy and unguarded, a perfect contrast to the composed persona he wore for the world.
It was as if, in this moment, he’d let go of all the armour he carried, only for you. You didn’t know why it felt like a secret you were allowed to witness, but it did. It was an intimacy that was soft and unspoken, like the rest of the world didn’t exist, and this version of him, untamed and real, was something only you got to see.
Your sounds filled the air; skin to skin, the small noises of pleasure, and the noise of the bathroom moving with them.
His fingers came to your clit again, flicking, pressing and circling it in a precise way that had you doubled over. Whimpered into his shoulder, your fingers scratching across his back.
Your thoughts blurred, overwhelmed by the heat curling low in your belly. There was only sensation now, his breath against your neck, the press of his chest, the rhythm they moved without needing words.
His pace was punishing, like he was having a hard time controlling himself and he was teetering the edge of wanting to finish and wanting you to experience it first.
“Oscar,” you breathed into his ear. “I’m close.”
He groaned as he kept up his relentless pace, his finger still working on your clit. He shifted a bit and you felt him inside of her, deeper than ever, pressing against your walls.
You pulsed around him and after a few more strokes, you saw stars. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure overcame you. Your teeth grazed his shoulder in effort to not scream out.
You felt him stutter, strokes smaller and weaker now. His hand left your clit and cupped your cheek, bringing your face back to his and crashing his lips onto yours. You complied into the kiss, still coming down from your orgasm.
“Fuck…” he breathed out, voice strained and uneven, “you’re so beautiful.”
You met his gaze, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling with every breath, and almost fell apart again under his touch.
He groaned, low and hoarse, and drove into you one final time before stilling with a shudder. His mouth finding yours in something messier than a kiss; a moan, a tremble, a thank-you. His arm curled tight around you, pulling you close like he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.
“Oi!” A voice distinctly sounded like Lando called through the door, “Glad to see you love birds have finally come to your senses, but I need to take a leak, mate!”
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