One Shots | Formula 1

OP✩

"But you're much more interesting."-Request

TW: nsfw, explicit content.

I stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for nachos, trying to concentrate amidst the excited buzz of the TV being set up in the living room. Oscar was arranging the cushions just so, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted the angle of the screen. I smiled to myself. It was always amusing how focused he got on the little things, even if he claimed not to care about football.

I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Kickoff was in fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for snacks and banter, I thought, as I finished arranging the toppings on the nacho platter. As I poured drinks into glasses, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my stomach. Watching the Premier League with Oscar was always a highlight of the week, even if he only half-watched for my sake.

Balancing the tray of snacks and drinks, I made my way back to my room. I rifled through my drawer until I found it—the Manchester City jersey that had seen many game days before. Slipping it over my head, I smoothed down the fabric and checked my reflection in the mirror. Game day ready.

Returning to the living room, I froze in the doorway.

Oscar emerged from the bathroom, wearing a Manchester United jersey.

I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing. Oscar, my dear Oscar—who barely knew the difference between a striker and a goalkeeper—was standing there in the enemy's colors. He grinned mischievously, clearly pleased with himself for what he must have considered a brilliant joke.

"Look who's ready for the match!" he announced, gesturing to his jersey.

I narrowed my eyes at him, setting the tray down on the coffee table with more force than necessary.

"What's this?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the twinge of annoyance.

Oscar's grin widened. "Thought I'd spice things up a bit," he replied, his voice teasing. "You're always so serious about your team. Thought I'd give you a taste of rivalry."

I sighed, trying not to let his antics get to me. "You do realize we're supposed to be supporting the same side, right?" I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

He shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?" he quipped.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile despite myself. "You're impossible," I said, taking a seat on the couch.

Oscar joined me, settling back against the cushions. "Just adding a bit of drama," he replied, picking up a nacho.

I rolled my eyes playfully, reaching for a nacho myself. "Well, drama or not, City is going to crush United today," I said confidently.

Oscar smirked. "We'll see about that," he said, raising an eyebrow.

The game kicked off with a surge of excitement, and I settled in next to Oscar on the couch, unable to resist the urge to snuggle closer to him. Despite his antics with the jersey, his warmth was inviting, and I found myself drawn to him as Manchester City took an early lead.

As the minutes ticked by and City widened their lead, Oscar's attention waned. I felt him shift beside me, his gaze drifting from the screen to me. I pretended not to notice, my eyes fixed determinedly on the game.

But Oscar was persistent. His fingers started to trace idle patterns along my arm, sending shivers down my spine. I shot him a warning glance, but he only grinned in response, clearly undeterred.

"Can't you just watch the game?" I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady despite the distracting sensation of his touch.

Oscar chuckled softly, his hand now resting lightly on my thigh. "I am watching," he replied, his voice low and teasing. "But you're much more interesting."

I bit my lip, torn between the thrilling tension of the game and the enticing distraction Oscar was becoming. City scored again, the crowd on the TV erupting into cheers. I cheered half-heartedly, my focus split between the game and the man beside me.

Oscar's hand moved higher on my thigh, his touch becoming bolder. I shifted uncomfortably, my body betraying me with a rush of heat.

"Oscar," I warned again, my voice barely a whisper now.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "You know you want to," he murmured, his warm breath sending a shiver through me.

I turned to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull. His eyes sparkled with mischief and desire, and before I knew it, his lips were on mine. The taste of him was intoxicating, his kiss passionate and urgent.

The game continued in the background, a mere soundtrack to the intensity building between us. Oscar's hands roamed freely now, igniting flames under my skin. I melted into his touch, losing myself in the sensations he evoked.

City scored again, the commentator's voice a distant echo. Oscar's hands slid under my shirt, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me. I moaned softly, unable to hold back any longer.

His kisses grew more insistent, his body pressing against mine. I surrendered to him completely, my hands tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as we indulged in each other, the game forgotten, our bodies attuned to a different kind of play. The rivalry between our teams faded into the background, overshadowed by the heat of our desire.

In that moment, there was only Oscar and me—lost in each other's touch, swept away by the intensity of our connection. And as Manchester City celebrated another goal on the TV, I couldn't help but think that this was the true victory of the day.

Oscar's lips trailed down my neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses that sent shivers down my spine. I moaned softly, losing myself in the intensity of our connection. Every touch, every whisper, fueled the fire between us.

The sounds of the game were drowned out by our shared desire, the air thick with anticipation. Oscar's hands moved with purpose, expertly stoking the flames of passion.

I rocked against him, matching his rhythm, our bodies moving in perfect sync. Each movement brought us closer to the peak, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

I whispered his name, a plea and a prayer all at once. Oscar responded with a growl of desire, his grip tightening, his movements more urgent.

And then, with a shared gasp, we crested together, waves of pleasure crashing over us. Time seemed to slow as we held onto each other, caught in the aftershocks of ecstasy.

As we caught our breath, our bodies still entwined, the noise from the TV came back into focus. The game was nearing its end, the final score irrelevant in the wake of our shared intimacy.

Oscar's gaze met mine, his eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire. We shared a soft smile, the unspoken understanding between us stronger than ever.

Maybe football wasn't his thing, but he certainly was mine—jersey and all.

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Requests are always open <3