Your friends were determined to get you your driver’s license after two failed attempts, so they hired the best driving instructor in Monaco to fix your… driving situation. You expected strict lessons and zero patience. What you didn’t expect was falling for the guy trying to teach you how to drive.
pairing. driving instructor! Oscar Piastri x fem! reader.
YOUR COMPLETELY NONEXISTENT DRIVING LICENSE HAD BECOME A RUNNING JOKE IN YOUR FRIEND GROUP. Not a cruel one—just the kind that kept coming back like a bad sequel. Mostly because you had actually tried. Twice. And somehow, against all logic and the laws of probability, you had failed both times.
Eventually, you made peace with it. Maybe driving just wasn’t meant for you. Maybe the universe had looked at you behind the wheel and said, “Absolutely not.” Honestly, it felt responsible to accept that. You told yourself you were doing the world a favour by staying far away from anything with an engine.
Your friends, however, did not share this peaceful acceptance.
Every time you needed to go somewhere, you ended up asking one of them for a ride. At first, it was casual. Then it became routine. Then it became… expected. And lately, those rides had started to come with looks. The kind of looks that said we adore you, but please, we are begging you, do something about this.
Which is probably how you ended up here.
Sitting in a tiny café, across from your friends, all of whom were staring at you with a level of focus normally reserved for interventions or cult meetings. No one was scrolling. No one was chatting. They just sat there, watching you like they had rehearsed this moment.
You didn’t like it.
Not even a little.
There was something about the seriousness on their faces that made your stomach twist, like they had already made a decision about your life and were now preparing to present it to you in a PowerPoint. You didn’t know what was coming, but you were almost certain it wasn’t going to be fun.
“Can you please just tell me what’s going on?” you groaned, leaning forward as you looked between them. “You’re all staring at me like I’m about to be voted off the island. It’s getting weird.”
“Your driving license…” Alex began carefully.
No. Absolutely not.
You didn’t even let her finish. Your eyes rolled before you could stop them, your head tipping back as you let out the kind of sigh usually reserved for tax season. Of course. It always came back to that.
“If this is an intervention, I’m leaving,” you muttered, grabbing your drink like it was emotional support. “I’ve accepted my fate. I don’t drive. It’s better for society. We’ve discussed this many times.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Alex said.
You froze mid‑sip, lowering your cup slowly. “…how is that a problem?”
“Because,” Lily said, sharing a look with the others, “you’ve accepted it a little too much.”
You stared at them, unimpressed. “I’m being realistic.”
“You’re being lazy.”
“I am not being lazy,” you shot back, sitting up straighter. “I tried. Twice. And both times ended in disaster. At some point, you have to accept when something just isn’t meant for you.”
“You mounted a curb,” Rebecca reminded you.
“It was a high curb,” you said immediately.
“It was average.”
“It felt high in the moment.”
Another look passed around the table. You didn’t like that look. It had the same energy as people silently agreeing to unplug a bomb.
Your eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like you’ve all talked about this without me?”
“Because we have,” Alex said, far too casually.
You blinked. “…you what?”
“It wasn’t a long discussion,” Lily added quickly. “More like a shared realization.”
“That I’m a danger to the roads?” you deadpanned.
“That you need help,” Rebecca corrected.
You leaned back in your chair, arms crossing on instinct. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Alex said, almost apologetic. “Because it’s already happening.”
That was not a good sentence. Not in any universe.
“…what did you do?” you asked slowly.
Their smile was the only answer you needed to know you were absolutely, completely doomed.
No one answered right away.
That was never a good sign. In fact, it was usually the moment right before your life took a sharp turn you did not approve of.
Alex glanced at the others like they were silently choosing a sacrifice, and your suspicion spiked. You straightened in your seat, bracing yourself like someone about to hear bad medical news.
“…Alex,” you warned.
“Okay, don’t get mad—”
“I’m already mad.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet.”
“I can feel it,” you shot back. “Just say it.”
There was a tiny pause. The kind that stretched just long enough to make your stomach drop.
Then—
“We found you a driving instructor.”
You stared at them.
Blank. Emotionless. The kind of stare that came from your soul leaving your body for safety reasons.
“…you did what?”
“A driving instructor,” Alex repeated, as if saying it slowly would somehow make it sound less horrifying. “A really good one, actually.”
You blinked once. Twice. Your brain tried to reboot and failed.
Then you let out a short, disbelieving laugh. It didn’t sound healthy. “No. No, you didn’t.”
“We did,” Lily said, far too cheerfully for someone delivering a death sentence.
Your heart sank. Your palms went warm. Your whole body felt like it was trying to climb out of itself.
“No, because that would mean you completely ignored everything I just said about me not driving.”
“You’re not not driving,” Alex said, like this was some kind of motivational speech. “You’re just… temporarily bad at it.”
“Temporarily?” you echoed, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “It’s been years.”
“Growth isn’t linear.”
You dropped your head into your hands, dragging your palms down your face as if you could physically wipe away the situation. Your chest felt tight in that familiar, annoyed‑but‑also‑tired way, the one that came whenever your friends decided they knew what was best for you. “I cannot believe you,” you muttered, even though a small part of you absolutely could. This was exactly the kind of thing they would do.
“It’s already booked,” Rebecca said, far too casually for someone detonating your entire week.
Your head snapped up so fast your neck almost cracked. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Your first lesson,” Alex said, like she was announcing a weather update. “It’s tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?!” Your voice shot up without your permission, your whole body jolting like someone had plugged you into a wall socket. “You booked it without even asking me?!”
“We knew you’d say no,” Lily said gently, like that made it better.
“Because I am saying no!” you fired back, heat rising in your chest. You could feel your pulse in your ears. You could feel the panic starting to creep in, that old familiar dread of being behind the wheel, of messing up again, of proving everyone right about you being hopeless.
Alex winced, but she didn’t back down. She never backed down when she thought she was doing the “right thing,” which was honestly one of her most annoying qualities. “Just try one lesson.”
“No.” You crossed your arms, grounding yourself, trying to build a wall out of sheer stubbornness.
“One.”
“No.”
“Please.”
You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you leaned back slightly, trying to put some emotional distance between you and the disaster unfolding in front of you. “What about the instructor?”
Lily’s smile widened in a way that immediately set off alarm bells in your head. She looked far too pleased with herself, like someone who had just pressed a big red button and was waiting to see what happened. “The best in Monaco. Seriously. He’s helped people way worse than you.”
You blinked.
Slowly.
“…way worse than me?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You definitely meant that.”
“I meant inexperienced,” she corrected quickly, though the tiny wince on her face told you she absolutely meant what she said the first time.
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking your head as you leaned even further back in your chair, as if sliding away from the table might somehow save you. Your chest felt tight, your stomach twisting with that familiar mix of dread and annoyance. “No. No, absolutely not. I’m not doing this again.”
There was a brief pause. The kind of pause that said they had expected resistance, but maybe not this level of immediate, dramatic refusal. They exchanged another look—the kind that made you feel like a toddler refusing vegetables.
“Come on,” Lily tried again, her voice softening just a little, like she was trying to coax a scared animal out from under a bed. “At least hear us out.”
“I have heard you out,” you said, gesturing vaguely at all of them, your frustration bubbling up. “You found some mystery instructor, decided I’m a lost cause, and signed me up without asking. That’s the summary, right?” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “What is even his name?!”
“His name is Oscar. He’s calm, patient, young—” Rebecca started.
You didn’t even let her finish before your eyes rolled so hard it felt like a full‑body reaction. The kind of eye roll that came from years of friendship and deep, exhausted disbelief.
“—and very good at what he does,” she added quickly, like that tiny detail was supposed to magically fix everything.
“Low bar,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, though you knew they heard it.
“Lowkey your type…” Alex cut in, far too casually, like she was tossing out a harmless observation instead of lighting a match and dropping it straight into your bloodstream.
You froze.
Just for a second.
Because of course they said that. Of course they went there. Your friends never missed a chance to make your life harder in the name of “help.”
Your gaze snapped back to them, sharp and immediate, your whole expression tightening. “My type?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “You don’t even know my type.”
Alex raised a brow, the picture of confidence. “Don’t I?”
Before you could argue, Lily leaned in with the kind of look that said she had receipts. “You literally like the exact opposites of yourself, girl. Don’t lie to us.”
And the worst part?
Your stomach did a tiny, traitorous flip.
Because you knew exactly what she meant—calm, quiet, steady guys who looked like they could fix a car and your emotional issues in the same afternoon. Guys who didn’t talk too much, didn’t show off, didn’t make everything dramatic. Guys who made you feel safe without even trying.
Exactly the kind of guy they would think this Oscar was.
Exactly the kind of guy who could ruin your life a little.
And you hated that they knew that.
The worst part of all of this?
You had actually started thinking about it.
Not the driving. Definitely not that. The idea of you behind a wheel still made your stomach twist in that familiar, unpleasant way. But the instructor… that was a different story. Meeting someone who, according to your friends, was apparently calm and patient and had his life together? Someone who could teach people how to drive without losing his mind? That was… concerning. Mostly because it sounded suspiciously like the exact type you pretended you didn’t have.
And even worse—if this whole thing didn’t work out, at least you might meet someone new. Someone interesting.
You pushed that thought away so fast it practically skidded across the floor of your brain.
Nope. Not thinking about that. Not getting your hopes up. Absolutely not.
“If I show up tomorrow and this man is weird, or rude, or—” you paused, narrowing your eyes as the paranoia kicked in, “—or in on this, I’m blaming all of you.”
“He’s not weird,” Alex said confidently, like he had personally run a background check.
“That’s not reassuring,” you muttered, because it wasn’t.
“You’re going to love him,” Lily added, sounding far too sure of herself.
You stared at her.
Then at Alex.
Then at the rest of them, who all looked way too pleased with themselves for people who had just ruined your weekend.
“…I hate all of you,” you said flatly.
Lily only smiled, completely unfazed. “Tomorrow. Ten a.m. Don’t be late. I’ll send you the adress.”
You groaned, dropping your head into your hands, already feeling the weight of this terrible, terrible idea settling on your shoulders. You could practically see your future: panic, embarrassment, maybe a small emotional breakdown in a parked car. Perfect.
And yet… a tiny part of you wondered what Oscar looked like.
You shut that part down immediately.
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You were early.
That was the first bad sign.
You didn’t do early. You barely did “on time.” Your natural state was somewhere between almost late and technically not late if you squint at the clock. But today, somehow, you were here with ten whole minutes to spare, standing outside the driving school like you were about to take an exam you hadn’t studied for and definitely didn’t sign up for.
You checked your phone for the fifth time.
9:53.
“…great,” you muttered, your voice flat. “Perfect. Love this for me.”
Your friends had been far too confident about this whole situation. You’re going to love him, they’d said, like that meant anything. Like you weren’t about to meet a complete stranger and trust him with your life, your nerves, and your already questionable driving abilities. The thought alone made your stomach twist.
You let out a slow breath, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you looked around, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Normal. Manageable. Just one lesson. You could survive one lesson. Probably. Hopefully.
Right?
The door behind you opened.
“Hey.”
You turned.
And for a moment—just one, tiny, traitorous moment—your brain completely stopped working.
Because the man standing there was… not what you expected.
Not even close.
Calm was the first thing you noticed. Not the fake kind people put on to seem impressive, but the real kind. The kind that settled around him like a quiet aura, like he didn’t need to raise his voice or wave his arms to be taken seriously. He just existed, steady and unbothered, and somehow that was enough.
Then came everything else.
Neat. Put‑together. Brown hair that looked soft in a way you immediately pretended not to notice. Brown eyes that were warm but focused, like he actually paid attention to the world around him. A slightly serious expression, but not in a cold way—more like someone who thought before he spoke. Someone who didn’t rush. Someone who noticed details.
And unfortunately, someone who was very, very easy to look at.
Your heart did a small, confused flip.
This was… not ideal.
Not ideal at all.
You blinked once.
Then again.
And then you very quickly reminded yourself to stop staring before you made this even more embarrassing than it already was.
“…you’re my driving instructor?” you asked, your voice coming out a little softer, a little less confident than you wanted.
He nodded. “Oscar.”
Just Oscar. Simple. Calm. Like he didn’t need anything more than that.
Of course.
You straightened a little, trying to force your brain to catch up. “Right. Hi. Hello.” You gave a tiny, awkward wave you regretted instantly. “I’m Y/n—well, you probably already know that. I’m the problem.”
There was a small pause.
Then—just barely—he smiled.
“I’ve heard,” he said.
You narrowed your eyes. “From who?”
“Your friends.”
Of course. Traitors. Every single one of them. You were going to yell at them later.
You huffed, crossing your arms like that would protect you from the embarrassment. “I hope they told you the full story.”
“They gave me an idea.”
You raised a brow. “And?”
His gaze stayed on you, calm and steady in a way that made you feel strangely exposed. Not judged. Just… seen. Like he was already trying to understand you, not your mistakes.
“I think I can handle it,” he said.
Something about the way he said it—so sure, so gentle—made your stomach do a small, confused flip you absolutely did not approve of.
You shoved that feeling away immediately.
“Wow,” you said, deadpan. “Confidence. Love that for you.”
And he smiled again, just a little, like he already knew you were going to be trouble—and didn’t mind at all.
He didn’t react much, just tilted his head a little, like he was already taking in the entire situation and quietly deciding what to do with it. He had that calm, steady energy that made you feel both seen and slightly judged in the gentlest way possible.
“Ready to start?” he asked.
You let out a slow breath, staring at the car like it had personally ruined your life. “No,” you admitted honestly. “But let’s go anyway.”
He nodded once, completely unfazed, and stepped aside with a small gesture toward the car parked nearby. “Then we’ll take it step by step.”
“Step by step,” you repeated under your breath, as if saying it enough times might magically make you believe it.
“Exactly.”
You started walking, and you were painfully aware of him following just behind you. Not too close, but close enough that you could feel his presence. It was distracting in a way that made absolutely no sense, which somehow made it even worse. Your brain was already doing too much.
When you reached the driver’s side, you stopped.
Just stared at the door.
For a moment, it genuinely felt like the car was staring back at you too, judging you, remembering every curb you’d ever mounted.
“…this is where things usually go wrong,” you muttered.
“Then we’ll take it slower,” he said from beside you, voice steady.
You turned your head to look at him. “You say that like it helps.”
“It should.”
“It doesn’t.”
There was a small pause. Not awkward. Just quiet. A soft kind of silence that made you feel like he was giving you space instead of waiting for you to fail.
And then, for the first time since you’d met him, you caught something subtle in his expression—something close to amusement. Not obvious, not dramatic, but definitely there. A tiny spark of it.
“Let’s try anyway,” he said.
You looked back at the car.
Then at him.
Then back at the car.
Yeah.
This poor man had absolutely no idea what he had just signed up for—and you weren’t sure whether to warn him or let him find out the hard way.
“Alright,” you said, mostly to yourself, like you were trying to hype up a very unconvincing version of you. “How hard can it be.”
Oscar didn’t answer that, which was probably the smartest thing he could’ve done.
You opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, and suddenly everything felt too real. Too official. Your hands didn’t know where to rest, your feet felt like they were in the wrong place, and your brain was loudly reminding you that you had failed this exact situation before. Twice.
Oscar walked around and got into the passenger seat, and the moment he settled in, the space felt smaller. Not in a bad way—just… closer. More focused. Like the air shifted and now you were very aware of him sitting beside you, calm and steady while you were quietly falling apart.
You swallowed, staring straight ahead like the windshield might offer emotional support.
“Okay,” he said, voice soft and even. “Seat first.”
You blinked. “Seat?”
“Yeah. Adjust it so you can reach the pedals comfortably.”
You nodded quickly, grabbed the lever, and pulled the seat forward—way too far forward.
Your knees nearly hit the steering wheel.
You froze. “…that’s probably too much.”
Oscar glanced over, the corner of his mouth almost lifting. “Slightly.”
“Right.”
You pushed the seat back a little. Then a little more. Then too much. Then forward again. It was a whole journey, but eventually it felt… okay. Not perfect, but not terrible either.
You leaned back, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, your heart thumping a little too fast for something as simple as sitting.
This was fine.
This was manageable.
This was only mildly terrifying.
“This is already exhausting,” you admitted, letting your head fall back against the seat for a second.
“We haven’t started yet.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s the problem.”
There was a tiny pause, like he was deciding whether to laugh or stay professional. He chose professional. Mostly.
“Foot on the brake,” he said.
You nodded and placed your foot where he told you, trying to look like a functioning adult and not someone who was seconds away from panicking.
“Good. Now the key.”
You stared at the dashboard like it was written in another language.
“…the key,” you repeated, buying yourself time.
He nodded again, patient as ever.
You picked it up, your fingers already a little shaky as you slid it into the ignition. Your heart thumped harder, like it knew what was coming.
“This is the part where everything goes wrong,” you warned him, half‑serious, half‑terrified.
“It won’t,” he said simply.
You gave him a look. “You say that like you’ve seen me drive.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Wow. Encouraging.”
“Turn the key,” he said, ignoring your sarcasm with impressive skill.
You took a breath. A deep one. The kind you take before doing something brave or stupid.
Then you turned the key.
The engine roared to life.
You flinched so hard your shoulders jumped, your whole body tensing like the car had shouted at you.
“…okay,” you said, gripping the wheel a little tighter like it might try to escape. “Why is it so loud.”
“It’s supposed to be loud,” he replied, completely calm, like this was the most normal conversation in the world.
“I don’t like that it’s loud.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t think I will.”
Another small pause. You could practically feel him choosing patience over honesty.
“Put it in drive,” he instructed.
You looked at the gear stick.
Then at him.
“…I’m sorry in advance,” you said, because it felt safer to warn him before the chaos started.
He gave you a look that almost—almost—looked like he was bracing himself. “Just take your time.”
You nodded, shifting the gear into drive.
The car didn’t move.
You frowned at it like it had betrayed you. “…is it supposed to do something?”
“It will,” he said.
You pressed the accelerator—just a little.
The car lurched forward like it had been waiting for the chance to scare you.
You gasped. “OH—NO—”
“Brake,” Oscar said quickly.
You slammed your foot down on the brake, and the car jerked to a stop so hard your whole body jolted.
Your heart was racing. Your palms were sweating. Your soul briefly left your body.
Oscar stayed perfectly calm.
You stared straight ahead, eyes wide, heart still thumping like it hadn’t caught up to the fact that the car had stopped.
“…I didn’t like that.”
Oscar exhaled quietly, glancing at you with that steady, unbothered calm that made you feel both ridiculous and strangely safe.
“Again,” he said.
You turned your head slowly, like you needed to confirm he really meant that. “Again?”
“Yes.”
“…you’re very calm about this.”
“I have to be.”
You huffed, gripping the wheel again, trying to convince your hands to stop shaking. “Okay. Again.”
You took a breath—deeper this time, trying to settle the panic buzzing under your skin—and pressed the accelerator.
The car moved.
Not violently. Not like it wanted to throw you into a ditch. Just… forward. Smooth. Controlled. Like it had finally decided to behave.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your shoulders dropping a little as the tension eased.
For the first time, it didn’t feel like the car was trying to kill you.
For the first time, you felt like maybe—maybe—you weren’t completely hopeless.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, a shaky kind of disbelief slipping into your voice. “I’m actually doing it.”
The car was moving—slow, steady, unbelievably controlled—but still moving. You kept your eyes locked on the road like looking anywhere else might break whatever fragile magic was happening.
“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” you added, though your tone made it sound like you were trying to convince yourself more than him.
Beside you, Oscar stayed quiet for a moment, just watching you with that calm, steady focus that somehow made your chest feel tight.
Then, in that same soft voice, he said, “You’re doing well.”
You scoffed immediately. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
You shot him a quick look. “I just tried to start the car like three times and almost launched us into a wall.”
“That was once,” he corrected.
“Twice.”
“Once and a half.”
A short laugh escaped you before you could stop it, your shoulders loosening just a little. “You’re being way too generous with me.”
“I’m being accurate.”
“Accurate,” you repeated, turning your eyes back to the road. “Right. Sure. Next thing you’ll tell me is that I’m a natural.”
And beside you, you could feel—not see, but feel—the quiet smile he was trying not to show.
There was a brief pause.
Then—soft, steady—
“Maybe,” he said.
You blinked, turning your head slightly. “Maybe?”
He nodded once, completely serious. “With more practice.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting you should do more lessons.”
You let out a loud, disbelieving laugh. “Oh, absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because this,” you gestured vaguely at the car, “is already a lot. I think I’ve done enough.”
“You’ve driven for thirty seconds.”
“And that was thirty seconds too many.”
Oscar glanced at you, and this time, there was no hiding it—the smallest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
“You’re not as bad as you think,” he said.
You raised a brow immediately. “That sounded suspiciously like something you say before delivering bad news.”
“It’s not.”
“Mm. I don’t trust you.”
That earned a real laugh from him—quiet, warm, the kind that slipped under your skin before you could stop it.
You looked at him again, half‑annoyed, half‑something else entirely. “You do realize you’re going to regret that?”
Oscar smirked while looking at you, eyes soft but certain. “I don’t think so.”
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You weren’t even supposed to be here.
Well—you were. Technically. You needed groceries. That was normal. Responsible. Adult‑ish.
What wasn’t normal was the fact that you had been standing in the same aisle for three full minutes, staring at two nearly identical pasta sauces like they were ancient riddles meant to test your worthiness.
“…what is even the difference,” you muttered, picking one up, then the other.
One had basil.
The other also had basil.
Useless.
You sighed, put them both back, then immediately picked them up again because apparently even the simplest decision was too much for your brain today.
This was fine.
Everything was fine.
You just needed to step back, clear your head, and—
You took one small step backwards.
And walked straight into someone.
Solid.
Very solid.
“Oh—” you startled, spinning around, your heart jumping from the sudden contact. “Sorry, I didn’t—”
The apology died in your throat.
Of course.
Of course it was him.
Oscar stood there, calm as ever, holding a basket like this was the most normal place in the world to run into your driving instructor—the same man who had watched you nearly launch a car into a wall.
Your brain short‑circuited.
Because of course the universe would do this to you.
“You again?” you said, staring at him like he had just materialized out of thin air—again.
“Me again.” He shrugged lightly, completely unbothered, like running into you in the middle of a grocery store was the most normal thing in the world. Like this happened all the time. Like he hadn’t just watched you nearly drive into a curb two days ago.
You blinked once, slow. Then narrowed your eyes, suspicion settling in like a cat making itself comfortable.
“…are you following me?”
His lips twitched—just barely, but enough to tell you he was fighting a smile. “I was here first.”
“That is exactly what someone who is following me would say.”
“I can assure you,” he said calmly, “I’m not.”
You studied him for a moment, trying to read his face, trying to decide whether he was lying or just naturally suspiciously calm. After a few seconds, you let out a small huff, crossing your arms around the two jars you still hadn’t chosen between.
“This is suspicious.”
“It’s a grocery store.”
“That doesn’t make it less suspicious.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes dropping to the items in your hands. “Still deciding?”
You looked down at the jars, then back at him, feeling your face heat with the kind of embarrassment that only came from being caught struggling with pasta sauce by someone who had already witnessed your driving skills.
“Try this one,” he said, holding out a jar like he actually knew what he was talking about.
You looked at him, suspicious. “Why?”
“It has more basil.”
You squinted at him. “You can tell that by looking at the label?”
“I can tell by reading it.”
You narrowed your eyes, not convinced in the slightest. “You just want me to stop struggling.”
“Maybe.”
“…rude.”
His lips twitched—the smallest hint of a smile he was definitely trying to hide. “You asked for help.”
“I did not.”
“You were struggling.”
“That’s different.”
He looked at you with that calm, steady expression he always seemed to have—the one that made you feel like he was quietly amused but too polite to say anything. It was annoying. And weirdly comforting. And annoying again.
“…just try it,” he said, voice soft but firm, like he already knew you were going to listen.
You huffed, dramatic and defeated, and reached out to take the jar from him. Your fingers brushed his—just a quick, light touch—but it was enough to send a tiny spark of awareness up your arm. Enough to make your brain freeze for half a second.
You ignored that. Immediately. Aggressively.
“…fine,” you muttered, clutching the jar like it had personally offended you. “But if this tastes bad, I’m blaming you.”
“I can live with that.”
He said it so simply, so calmly, like the idea of you blaming him for pasta sauce wasn’t even a little bit intimidating. Like he didn’t mind being responsible for your choices—or maybe he liked it.
You paused, staring at him like you were trying to figure out what planet he came from.
“…you’re very confident for someone who has seen me drive.”
His expression softened just a little at that—not a smile, not quite amusement, just something warm slipping through the calm. “I still think you’ll get better.”
You rolled your eyes, but this time there was a small smile tugging at your lips, the kind you tried to hide but couldn’t quite push down. “Nah,” you said simply, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s happening.”
“Well,” he said, calm as ever, already stepping back like this was the most natural ending to a conversation, “see you tomorrow.”
You frowned, confused. “Wait—what? You’re saying that like it’s a fact.”
“It is,” he replied without hesitation.
“You don’t even know if I’m coming.”
His gaze met yours—steady, certain, almost annoyingly sure of you. “I think you will.”
That was… frustrating.
And unsettling.
And weirdly warm in a way you absolutely did not want to think about.
You watched as he turned to leave, moving down the aisle with that same quiet confidence he always seemed to carry. No rush. No awkwardness. Just easy steps, like he already knew how the rest of the day would go. Like he already knew you’d show up tomorrow.
“…looking forward to it,” he added over his shoulder, almost casually, like it wasn’t going to echo in your head for the next hour.
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then you snapped your attention back to the shelves, grabbing the first random item your hand landed on just so you had something—anything—to do.
“Same,” you muttered under your breath before you could stop yourself.
A beat passed.
You frowned slightly. “…I guess.”
But even as you said it, even as you tried to brush it off, you couldn’t ignore the small, annoying feeling blooming in your chest—the one that felt suspiciously like anticipation.
And the fact that you were already thinking about tomorrow.
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You were on time.
Again.
Which honestly felt like a personal achievement, the kind you wanted to brag about but couldn’t, because that would require admitting you cared. And you absolutely did not care. Obviously.
You stood outside the car with your arms loosely crossed, trying very hard to look casual, relaxed, unbothered—like you weren’t even a little bit looking forward to this. Because that would be embarrassing. Painfully embarrassing.
What would be even more embarrassing—far more embarrassing—was admitting that you had woken up earlier than necessary, taken extra time getting ready, and then stood in front of the mirror questioning your entire existence for longer than you’d ever admit out loud. Not because you wanted to impress Oscar. No. Definitely not.
And it was absolutely not because you had spent a good chunk of last night watching YouTube tutorials titled things like “How to Start a Car Without Panicking” and “Beginner Driving Tips That Won’t Make You Cry.” That would be insane.
You were just… prepared.
Overprepared, maybe.
But still. Prepared.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, pretending to study the car like you were evaluating it, like you were the one in charge here. But really, you were listening for footsteps, for the sound of someone approaching, for that calm voice that had somehow gotten stuck in your head since yesterday.
You weren’t nervous.
You weren’t excited.
You weren’t thinking about him.
You were just here to learn.
That was all.
At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
The sound of footsteps pulled you out of your thoughts.
You straightened almost instantly, trying to look casual, like you hadn’t just been standing there rehearsing how to say “hi” in a normal human way. You even adjusted your stance a little, pretending you were just… existing. Naturally. Effortlessly. Not waiting.
Oscar walked up a moment later, calm as ever, like he hadn’t just stepped directly into the middle of your carefully constructed illusion of I woke up like this. His presence had that same quiet weight it always did—steady, grounding, annoyingly soothing.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” you replied, maybe a little too quickly, a little too bright. You tried to play it off, but you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck.
His eyes flicked over you—brief, subtle, but enough to make you suddenly hyper‑aware of everything. Your outfit. Your hair. The fact that you had definitely tried harder today than you wanted to admit.
“…you look ready,” he added.
You froze for half a second, your brain scrambling for a response that didn’t sound like a confession.
“Yeah,” you said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to suspiciously casual. “I just… threw this on.”
A lie.
A complete lie.
But he didn’t call you out. He just nodded like that made perfect sense, like he believed you.
And before you could stop yourself—before you could think, filter, or protect your dignity—the words slipped out.
“And I’m in a pretty good mood today.”
Oscar raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “That’s surprising.”
You stared at him, offended and flustered at the same time, your heart doing that annoying little jump it had started doing around him.
“Wow,” you said, crossing your arms even though it didn’t help. “Okay. Rude.”
But he was still looking at you—calm, steady, a little amused—and somehow that made your chest feel warm in a way you didn’t want to examine too closely.
Because the truth was simple.
You were in a good mood.
And he was absolutely the reason why.
You slid into the driver’s seat like you’d done it a million times, even though your brain was frantically flipping through every YouTube tutorial you’d watched last night. Your hands moved with confidence you absolutely did not feel, and you tried to pretend this was normal. That you were normal.
This was fine.
You could do this.
Probably.
You reached for the key with a level of determination that bordered on delusion.
“So, key first—” you started, slipping it into the ignition.
“Seatbelt first, princess.”
You froze.
Slowly. Very slowly.
You turned your head to look at Oscar Piastri, who was sitting there like he hadn’t just casually dropped a word that sent your entire nervous system into chaos.
“…sorry?”
He didn’t look fazed at all. Not even a little. Just calm, composed, like calling you that was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just set your brain on fire.
“You were about to start the car without your seatbelt on,” he said, completely unfazed.
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“…I was testing you,” you said quickly, grabbing the first excuse your brain could reach.
He raised a brow, amused. “Testing me?”
“Yes,” you nodded, committing far too hard. “To see if you’d notice.”
“And?” he asked, leaning back slightly, clearly entertained now, like he was watching you dig your own grave and enjoying every second.
You paused.
This was the part where you should have a plan.
You did not.
“…you passed,” you said finally, like that had been the plan all along.
A small smile tugged at his lips—soft, subtle, but definitely there.
“Good,” he said.
There was a beat of silence, warm and a little charged.
Then, softer—almost teasing—
“You can start by putting your seatbelt on, though.”
You let out a quiet breath, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, sorry, Mr. Professor.”
But as you reached for the seatbelt, you could feel his eyes on you—steady, calm, and just a little amused. Not mocking. Not judging. Just…watching you in a way that made your chest feel warm and your stomach twist.
And annoyingly—
frustratingly—
you felt yourself wanting to do better.
You clicked your seatbelt into place with a little more force than necessary, like you needed the buckle to understand how offended you were.
“There,” you said. “Happy?”
“Very,” he replied, and of course he sounded calm about it. He always sounded calm. It was starting to feel like a personal attack.
You huffed and adjusted your grip on the wheel again, trying to look like someone who absolutely knew what they were doing. “Okay. Now we can start.”
“Now we can start,” Oscar echoed, his tone so neutral it looped back around to sounding like mockery.
You shot him a look. “Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not,” he said, completely steady. “I’m listening.”
“Mm,” you hummed, not entirely convinced but too focused on not embarrassing yourself to argue.
You turned the key again, and this time the engine actually came to life. The sound filled the car, warm and loud and real, and for a moment you just sat there, hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead like the road might judge you if you blinked.
Oscar didn’t rush you. He never did. He just waited, patient and quiet, like he understood that you needed a second to gather yourself.
“…now I have to put it in drive, right?”
“Mhm. Step on the clutch.”
You did.
“…oh my god.”
His gaze flicked to you immediately. “Did you train?”
Your head snapped toward him so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “No—why would you think that?”
“You’re following instructions very well.”
You scoffed, offended on principle. “That’s called basic competence.”
There was a beat of silence. The kind that felt warm, not awkward.
Then—
“So what are we doing next?” you asked, trying to sound casual, like you weren’t secretly hoping he’d say something easy.
“Parking.”
Silence.
You turned to look at him slowly, betrayal written all over your face.
“…you just ruined my good mood.”
You groaned, pulling the car forward with more confidence than actual skill, trying to convince both yourself and the universe that this was going to go well.
“Okay, I can do this,” you muttered under your breath. “Just… straight. It’s just straight.”
“Focus on the road,” Oscar said calmly, like he wasn’t sitting next to a disaster waiting to happen.
“I am focusing.”
You were not focusing.
Not even a little.
Because somehow—somehow—you managed to drift slightly off track, your hands tightening on the wheel as you tried to correct yourself a second too late.
The car veered.
“…okay, okay, okay—”
Oscar’s posture shifted instantly, his calm turning sharp in a heartbeat.
“Turn—” he started.
“I am turning—”
“Not that—”
Panic hit you like a wave.
Your breath caught, your shoulders tensed, and before you could fully process what was happening, his hand came over yours on the wheel. Warm. Steady. Firm. Guiding it back into place with a confidence you absolutely did not have.
“Hey—relax,” he said, voice still calm but quicker now, like he was trying to anchor you before you spiraled.
His hand stayed there for a moment, covering yours, grounding you in a way that made your heart jump and your brain short‑circuit.
You froze immediately, your hands hovering awkwardly over his as he corrected the car with almost no effort at all. It was embarrassing how steady he was compared to the chaos happening inside your chest.
“…I had it,” you said weakly, even though you absolutely did not.
“You did not,” he replied, and there was something different in his voice now. Something warm. Something amused. Like he was trying not to laugh but failing a little.
The car straightened under his guidance, smooth and controlled, and for a moment neither of you moved. His hand stayed on the wheel, still close to yours, and your heart did something very unhelpful in response.
Then—
He laughed.
Not loud.
Not mocking.
Just a quiet, genuine laugh that slipped out before he could stop it, soft enough to make your stomach twist.
You turned your head slowly, staring at him like he had personally betrayed you.
“…what?”
“You’re serious,” he said, still smiling, still trying to get himself under control. “You really thought you had that.”
“I did have it.”
“You were about to mount the curb.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look offended even though your face was already warming. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“I am,” he admitted without hesitation, the smile still lingering like he couldn’t quite get rid of it.
You huffed, crossing your arms even though it didn’t help your case. The corners of your mouth betrayed you anyway, tugging upward despite your best efforts.
“…you’re the worst instructor ever.”
“I saved you,” he pointed out, like that settled everything.
You tilted your head. “From what? Driving into a bush?”
“Among other things.”
There was a beat of silence—warm, soft, almost comfortable.
Then you both laughed this time, yours quieter, his still low and warm, the kind of sound that made your chest feel lighter than it should.
You adjusted your hands on the wheel, exhaling softly as you tried to gather whatever dignity you had left. “Okay, in my defense—”
“There isn’t one,” Oscar said, calm as ever, cutting you off before you even had a chance to build your argument.
You turned your head to glare at him, offended in principle. “Wow. You don’t even let me try?”
“I’ve seen enough.”
“That’s harsh.”
“It’s accurate.”
You shook your head, but the smile tugging at your mouth refused to disappear. “…you’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, not even pretending otherwise.
You rolled your eyes and looked back at the road, trying to act like you weren’t secretly pleased he was teasing you. “You’re supposed to be encouraging. Supportive. Nice.”
“I am being supportive.”
“You just told me there’s no defense for what I did.”
“There isn’t,” he repeated, completely serious, like he was stating a scientific fact.
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”
There was a brief pause—the kind that felt warm instead of awkward, like the air between you had softened without you noticing.
Then, quieter, almost gentle—
“You’re not as bad as you think.”
The words hit you harder than you expected. They slipped under your guard before you could stop them, settling somewhere warm in your chest.
You glanced at him, trying to play it cool even though your heartbeat had definitely picked up. “That’s your professional opinion?”
“Yes.”
You narrowed your eyes slightly, studying him like you were trying to catch a lie. “Or your personal one?”
He held your gaze for a second — steady, unblinking, almost too honest.
“…both.”
Your stomach did a small, very inconvenient flip, the kind that made you sit a little straighter without meaning to. You looked away quickly, focusing on literally anything else — the dashboard, the road, the air vents — anything that wasn’t his face.
“Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you said, trying to sound casual even though your voice felt a little too soft. “I still almost took us out.”
“You didn’t.”
“Because you took the wheel.”
“That’s part of the lesson.”
You huffed, sinking a little deeper into your seat. “Feels like cheating.”
“It’s not.”
“Feels like it is.”
A small pause settled between you—but it wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t awkward. It felt lighter now, easier, like the air in the car had shifted into something warmer without either of you naming it.
“So,” you said after a moment, trying to sound playful instead of flustered, “do all your students almost crash on day two, or am I special?”
“You’re special,” he said immediately.
You blinked, turning to look at him, your heart doing that annoying little jump again.
“…you say that like it’s a compliment.”
“It is.”
The words hung there—simple, quiet, but somehow heavier than they should’ve been. You felt them settle in your chest, warm and confusing and a little too real.
And for a moment, you didn’t trust yourself to speak.
You narrowed your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at your lips again, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. “I don’t trust that.”
“You don’t have to.”
You shook your head slightly and looked forward again, trying to steady your breathing, trying not to let him see how much he was getting to you.
“…you’re very calm about everything,” you said after a moment. “It’s kind of annoying.”
“Annoying?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “Like nothing ever stresses you out.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh yeah?” You glanced at him, curious despite yourself. “What stresses you out?”
A small pause followed—the kind that made your stomach tighten, like you’d accidentally stepped into something deeper.
Then—
“Right now?” he said.
You frowned slightly. “What about right now?”
He looked at you, just for a second, but it was enough to make your pulse jump.
“You’re not paying attention to the road.”
You stared at him.
“…okay, fair.”
That made him smile again—just a little—and you had to look away because that was starting to become a problem. A real problem. The kind that made your chest feel warm and your thoughts feel messy.
“So,” he started after a moment, voice casual in that annoyingly smooth way of his, “are you free after tomorrow’s lesson?”
Your brain stalled.
Damn…?
“…what?”
“After the lesson,” he repeated, like this was normal, like he wasn’t casually flipping your entire world upside down. “Are you free?”
You stared at him, trying to process the words, trying to understand if you’d heard him right.
“Why?”
Another small pause—deliberate this time.
Then, casually, like it was nothing—
“I thought we could get lunch.”
Your grip on the wheel tightened just slightly, your heart doing a full somersault before you could stop it.
“Oh.”
Real smooth. Truly impressive.
Was this guy flirting with you? Because even when he was calm, he was annoyingly smooth at flirting. Effortlessly smooth. Like he didn’t even have to try.
“I think I might be,” you said, your voice softer than you meant it to be.
“Thought so.” Oscar smirked, and it was the kind of smirk that made your stomach twist in a way you were absolutely not prepared to deal with.
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The lesson ended in a way that felt… suspiciously normal.
No near crashes.
No panicking.
No dramatic swerving that made Oscar reach for the wheel like his life depended on it.
You even drove through Monaco’s streets without hitting anything—or anyone—whose car was probably worth more than your entire existence. Just you, actually driving, actually surviving, actually doing it.
It felt unreal.
It felt like a win.
You parked the car with a little more confidence than usual, turned off the engine, and let out a long breath that felt like it had been trapped in your chest for years.
“…I didn’t kill anyone,” you said, half‑proud, half‑in disbelief.
“Impressive,” Oscar replied.
You shot him a look, because of course he said it like that. “Wow. You’re really proud of me.”
“I am.”
You blinked, caught off guard by how easily he said it. No teasing. No smirk. Just simple, steady truth.
“…you’re serious?”
“Very.”
And something in your chest tightened—warm, unexpected, a little overwhelming. Because he wasn’t joking. He wasn’t being sarcastic. He wasn’t laughing at you.
He meant it.
And that did something to you. Something small but sharp, like a spark catching on something you didn’t realize was flammable.
You looked away for a moment, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips, trying to steady the flutter in your stomach.
Because being told you were good—by him—felt different.
That made something warm settle in your chest again, but you ignored it—quickly, almost aggressively, like pushing a thought into a drawer and slamming it shut.
“Okay,” you said, grabbing your bag with a little too much purpose. “You’re just saying that because you’re my instructor and you have to encourage me.”
“I don’t have to.”
You paused mid‑movement, fingers still curled around the strap.
“…oh?”
He stepped out of the car first, the door clicking shut behind him, then glanced back at you with that calm, steady look that always seemed to catch you off guard.
“I’m saying it because it’s true.”
That… did something.
Something small and sharp and warm that you absolutely did not want to examine too closely.
You cleared your throat and followed him out, trying to shake it off, trying to slip back into your usual energy before he noticed anything. “Right. Well. Of course I did well. I had a very good teacher.”
“Good,” he said. “You should keep that one.”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips refused to leave, no matter how hard you tried to hide it.
You both started walking, side by side this time. Not too close, but close enough that you could feel the space between you—warm, intentional, like neither of you was in a hurry to widen it.
“So,” you said after a moment, “this is where you pretend you didn’t just watch me struggle—”
“Let’s just get the lunch, princess, okay?”
He cut you off so casually you almost stumbled over your own words. It wasn’t even the interruption—it was the way he said it. Smooth. Effortless. Like he’d been calling you that for years.
You looked at him, your brain catching up a second too late.
“…princess?”
“Yeah,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You blinked, then let out a small huff that didn’t hide your smile at all. “You’re enjoying that way too much.”
“Maybe.”
You shook your head, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to fight now. It was there, warm and real, and you didn’t even bother pretending otherwise.
“Okay, Mr. Professor,” you said, bumping your shoulder lightly against his as you walked. “Sorry for stressing.”
He shot you a look, the kind that was half amused and half offended. “Don’t call me that. That sounds so weird.”
You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Oscar.”
He nodded once, satisfied. “Better.”
You grinned slightly, unable to help it. “See? You like it when I listen.”
“I like it when you focus,” he corrected, his tone so calm it almost made you laugh.
“Wow. Demanding.”
“You almost drove into a sign yesterday.”
“It came out of nowhere,” you said immediately, defensive on instinct.
“It didn’t.”
You huffed, but the smile tugging at your lips refused to leave. It was impossible to stay annoyed when he was looking at you like that — steady, patient, a little amused, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin.
You pushed open the café door, stepping inside with him right beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him without actually touching. It felt easy. Natural. Like this wasn’t just a driving lesson anymore.
Like it was something else.
Something you weren’t ready to name yet.
You tapped your fingers lightly against the table, glancing at him before quickly looking away again. The café was warm, the low hum of people talking around you making everything feel strangely soft. And then—like the thought had been sitting in the back of your mind the whole time, waiting for the right moment to jump out—
“Oh, I have my finals in two days.”
You said it casually. Too casually. Like it was no big deal. But your heart still picked up a little, that familiar nervous flutter settling in your stomach.
Oscar looked up from the menu immediately, his attention snapping to you in a way that made your breath catch. “Finals?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your voice light. “You know… theory, actual driving. Stuff I definitely should have learned already.”
There was a beat of silence. Not judgmental. Just him thinking. Considering. And then—
“…you’ll pass,” he said simply.
You blinked, caught off guard by how certain he sounded. “You say that like it’s guaranteed.”
“It is.”
You let out a small, disbelieving breath, half a laugh, half a sigh. “You’re way too supportive.”
“I’m realistic. You’re not stupid, Y/n.”
His tone was calm. Certain. Like he wasn’t even trying to reassure you—just stating a fact. A truth he didn’t expect you to argue with.
And for a second—
for a moment that felt strangely heavy and warm—
You didn’t really know what to say.
Because no one had said it like that before.
Not with that kind of quiet confidence.
Not like they genuinely believed it.
“…thanks,” you said quietly, softer than you meant to, the word slipping out before you could hide the way it made your chest feel warm and tight at the same time.
He just nodded, like that was enough, like your quiet thank‑you didn’t need anything added to it. And somehow, that made it land even harder.
Then, after a moment—
“I can pick you up after the exam.”
You looked at him, raising a brow, trying to play it cool even though your heart gave a tiny, traitorous jump. “Why?”
His expression didn’t change. Calm. Steady. Like he’d already thought this through.
“We can go somewhere after,” he said. “Celebrate.”
A small pause followed, and you could feel something warm settle low in your stomach.
Then, almost casually—
“Or we can drink if you fail.”
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Wow. Very optimistic of you.”
“I’m prepared,” he replied.
“For my success or my failure?”
“Both.”
You snorted, leaning back in your chair slightly, trying to hide the way your chest felt warm again. “You really thought of everything, huh?”
“I try to.”
You studied him for a second, really looked at him—the calm way he sat, the quiet confidence in his voice, the way he didn’t seem to be joking even when he was teasing you. And that warmth in your chest settled deeper, steadier, like it had been waiting for a place to land.
It was annoying.
And confusing.
And kind of nice.
You raised a brow, leaning back slightly in your chair, trying to look unfazed even though your pulse had already picked up.
“Is this your nonchalant way of asking me out?”
Oscar didn’t even hesitate. Not a blink. Not a pause.
“If it is,” he said calmly, “will that change your answer?”
You tilted your head, pretending to think it over, even though your heart had already made its decision. “Maybe.”
A small pause followed—quiet, charged, like the air between you shifted.
Then—
“Then it is, yes,” he said. “I’m asking you out.”
You blinked.
That was… very direct.
Very him.
And it hit you harder than you expected.
You tried to ignore the way your heart immediately picked up speed, leaning into the moment like you weren’t completely caught off guard. “Hm,” you hummed, tapping your finger lightly against the table. “I don’t know. This feels a bit risky.”
“Risky?”
“Yeah,” you nodded seriously. “Mixing professional driving instruction with… whatever this is.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you, your hand doing a little circle in the air. “What if I get worse at driving because I’m distracted?”
“You already got distracted.”
You gasped dramatically. “Wow. And you still want to take me out? That says a lot about your decision‑making skills.”
“It does,” he agreed, completely unfazed, like he’d already accepted every possible consequence.
You narrowed your eyes at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. There wasn’t any. “And?”
“And I still want to.”
That made you pause.
Just for a second.
Just long enough to feel something warm and stupid bloom in your chest.
You let out a soft breath, trying to play it cool even though your heart was doing something very annoying and very obvious.
“Fine,” you said, leaning back slightly, pretending you weren’t smiling. “I’ll go.”
And the look he gave you—calm, sure, a little pleased—made your stomach flip in a way you absolutely weren’t ready to deal with.
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You had never felt this nervous in your life.
Okay—maybe that was dramatic.
But still.
Your leg had been bouncing the entire time, your fingers tapping against the desk while the examiner looked over your results with the slowest pen in the world. Your heart was racing just a little too fast, every second stretching out like it was trying to torture you.
It felt like forever.
Until finally—
He gave you a small nod and slid your paper back across the table.
Passed.
You blinked at it.
Then again, just to make sure your eyes weren’t lying.
“You… passed,” he confirmed, sounding almost amused by your shock.
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, the relief hitting all at once, warm and overwhelming.
“Oh my god.”
You actually did it.
You passed.
You barely remembered grabbing your things or walking out of the building. Your mind was still catching up, still buzzing, still replaying the word passed over and over as the door swung open and fresh air hit your face.
And then—
You saw him.
Oscar, leaning casually nearby, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed like he had all the time in the world. Like waiting for you wasn’t an inconvenience. Like he’d been expecting you to walk out victorious.
He looked up the moment you stepped outside.
And something in your chest lifted, bright and immediate, before you could even stop it.
You walked toward him, the excitement bubbling up too fast to control.
“GUESS WHO PASSED, BABE—”
You froze mid‑sentence.
Blinking.
Your brain caught up a second too late.
“…I mean—” you cleared your throat quickly, heat rushing to your face. “—not babe. That just slipped out. Ignore that.”
But he was already looking at you—steady, calm, a little amused—like he’d heard every word.
And like he didn’t mind at all.
Your face lit up instantly.
“GUESS WHO PASSED, BABE—”
The word slipped out before you even realized you’d said it. You were too full of relief, too full of excitement, too full of finally to think about anything else.
You didn’t even register it.
You just ran to him.
And before your brain could catch up with your body—
you kissed him.
It was quick.
Impulsive.
A burst of adrenaline and joy and everything you’d been holding in for days. Your lips brushed his in a fast, breathless moment that felt like it came out of nowhere and everywhere at once.
And the second it happened—
your brain finally caught up.
Oh.
Oh—
You pulled back slightly, eyes widening, breath catching in your throat. “I—”
But you didn’t get to finish.
Because his hand came up to your jaw, warm and steady, fingers gentle but sure, grounding you in a way that made your heart stop for a beat—
and he kissed you again.
Slower this time.
Intentional.
Like he’d thought about it before.
Like he’d been waiting for the right moment.
Your breath caught for half a second before you melted into it, your hand instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as the world around you blurred into nothing. The noise of the street faded. The nerves from the exam vanished. Everything narrowed to the warmth of his mouth, the way he leaned in, the quiet certainty in the way he held you.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t messy.
It was soft and sure and real in a way that made your knees feel unsteady.
And for the first time all day—
you forgot how to think.
When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to look at you. Just enough for you to feel his breath on your lips, warm and steady, grounding you in a moment that didn’t feel entirely real.
His gaze was steady, but softer than you had ever seen it. There was something warm there, something quiet, something that made your chest feel too tight.
“…congratulations,” he said quietly.
You let out a small, breathless laugh, still a little dazed, still trying to catch up with the fact that you had just kissed him. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I did.”
A beat passed, the kind that felt like it stretched out longer than it should have.
Then, because your brain was finally working again, because you needed to say something before you melted into the pavement—
“…I just kissed you.”
“You did.”
“…and then you kissed me back.”
“I did.”
You stared at him, your heart thudding in your chest, your mind still spinning.
“…okay, just checking.”
That made something shift in his expression—something warmer, almost amused, like he was fighting a smile but not very hard.
“Was that part of your driving plan?” he asked, voice low, teasing in that calm way that always got to you.
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, still trying to steady your breathing. “No. That was just… excitement.”
And saying it out loud made the truth of it settle deeper in your chest. The adrenaline. The relief. The way seeing him waiting for you had felt like the final piece of something falling into place.
“Good,” he said.
You blinked, still trying to catch up. “Good?”
“Yeah.”
There was a small pause, the kind that made the air feel warmer, heavier, like something was shifting between you.
Then, quieter—
“Because I was going to do it anyway.”
Your heart did something very dramatic at that. A full jump, maybe two. It was ridiculous how fast the warmth spread through your chest, how quickly your breath caught.
“…oh.”
He didn’t look away. He didn’t even pretend to. He just studied your face for a moment longer, his eyes steady, his expression soft in a way you weren’t used to seeing. His hand was still near your jaw, close enough that you could feel the heat of it, close enough that you didn’t want him to move it.
“So,” he added, calm as ever, like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down, “what does a newly licensed driver want to do now?”
You smiled slowly, the kind of smile you couldn’t hold back even if you tried. The adrenaline was still buzzing under your skin, but now it mixed with something softer, something warm and steady that made your chest feel full.
“Well,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “I think I deserve a drive.”
His lips curved just a little—not a full smile, but something close, something that felt like it was meant only for you.
loves to snuggle up in bed. 𖧧 sweatpants. uggs. sweaters. tanks. boyshorts. cosy hobbies. coloring. 𖧧 crocheting. video games. youtube. vlogs or gameplays. 𖧧 prefers the quiet over anything. rhode peptide lip treatment. vanilla, toast, salted caramel. aquaphor handy. vanilla scented everything. loves to smell like a fresh pastry.
will do her skincare at night and immediately get into bed and indulge in one of her hobbies. of course a stuffed animal collection. reading? yes. rainy days? a nice film? oh heck yes. dainty jewelry is her game. 𖧧 loves her hyper fixations. trinkets. generally anxious. prefers to be with her lovely friends and this one guy. kind to everyone. avoids negativity. lighthearted. 𖧧 neutrals. warm tones. earth tones. sounds loud, crowded, and uncomfortable? count her out.
Do I even need to add onto this? I feel like everyday would be such a sweet and new adventure with this kook… Going out on nice boats, staying inside, playing tennis & golf, not to mention- walking around Charleston because let’s be fr? THAT’S where he lives… or even flying to new and exotic places with him? It would be such a dream <3 wait… I think I forgot something… cockwarming him on his boat while the sun sets…
Shhh this is my monthly drop… and I made this before Ruthie existed…
@justafangirls-blog tagging my baby!!! Hope you all enjoy 💕 make sure to repost or comment 💋
@topperscumslut I saw you liking my topper stuff so… 🫣🤭
you could not only feel your heart pounding, you could hear it in your ears too. you watched rafe’s movements, each one calculated as he made his way over over to the bed where you sat anxiously. with his mask in his hand, he tossed it on the bedside table before pushing you down onto the mattress. he grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him as he leant down, his nose touching yours.
“tonight was a shitshow, so i need you to lay here like a good little girl and let me use your pussy however the fuck i want.” rafe grit through his teeth, his eyes daring you to argue with him. yeah — like you’d ever dream of arguing with him; you liked getting manhandled. how else were you supposed to survive being a slashers girlfriend?
──── ⋆⋅🔪⋅⋆ ────
10 minutes and 5 positions later, rafe had your back pressed against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist. his thrusts were brutal, his skin slapping against yours, your thighs growing tender from his persistent actions. a thin layer of sweat covered his body, heavy pants leaving his parted lips. rafe’s hand reached up, gripping your chin once again. he looked into your eyes, his thrusts relentless. “i love you. but, god, i love fucking you like i hate you.” rafe kissed you roughly, his lips clashing into yours with bruising force.
you whimpered softly into the kiss, your brows knitted as you tried to concentrate on the pleasure rather than the pain. rafe bit down on your bottom lip, the intensity of the bite growing with each passing second until eventually you were yelping out in pain. rafe finally released your lip, looking down at it as watched a bead of blood form from the skin he broke. you whimpered in pain, rafe’s thrusts slowing imperceptibly. he looked at you with a satisfied smirk, his fingers gently smearing the blood over your lips and your chin.
you looked at him, your eyes filled with need, your pussy undeniably clenching around his cock. he chuckled softly, his hips snapping into yours. “of course you liked that. you’re such a dirty little thing, aren’t you baby? fuck, you’re perfect for me.” rafe rasped, his hips faltering slightly as he felt his release nearing.
“rafey… want you to… to put your mask on.” you managed out through moans and rafe’s smirk only grew wider.
“fuck, you really are my girl, aren’t you?” rafe grinned, reaching over and grabbing his mask off the bedside table, his cock still drilling into you. he handed you the mask, his grin growing wider until he’s full blown smiling at you. “put it on me, princess.”
you slowly took the mask from rafe, your eyes locked on his. you bit your lip, tasting some of the blood rafe had smeared just moments ago and carefully, you fit the mask over rafe’s head, securing it place as your breathing hitched. you leaned back against the wall, admiring the black and white scream mask on your boyfriend. you two stared at each for a moment, him looking at you through the black netted eyes of his mask.
rafe’s hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently as he continued to pound into your pussy, his pace picking up rapidly. “look at you… cock drunk on a serial killer’s cock. what would your parents think of you, huh? letting your serial killer boyfriend fuck you with his mask on.” rafe taunted, his voice harsh, even through the barrier of the mask. you could feel your orgasm nearing, and by the way your pussy was squeezing him, rafe could tell too.
he pounded into you harder, your back slamming into the wall with each particularly harsh thrust. you cried out his name, fingers digging into his shoulders as your orgasm ripped through you. your body shook, your walls convulsing around rafe’s cock as you rode out your high, moaning and whimpering his name again and again. rafe’s breathing came out in harsh, ragged pants that were accentuated by his mask.
with the way your pussy squeezing him, his orgasm came shortly after yours, his grip on your throat tightening as he released spurts of thick, hot cum. rafe moaned out your name as he rode out his own orgasm, his thrusts slowing until he slammed into you one last time, burying his cum deep inside you.
“my perfect fuckin’ girl. my little ‘mrs. slasher’,”
summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men.
warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.
warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3
authors note: the wait is over. yay! This isn’t how I expected this part to end but I let my mind take charge…plans change. I hope the end is okay, i’ve never written anything like that before so i’m a little nervy for y’alls reactions lol. let me know what you guys think! Enjoy <3
part five: new york changes you
The whole ‘friends for now’ deal you set with Hugh has been an enthralling experience so far. A month has passed since that night in your living room, a month of struggling to resist the charisma of Hugh Jackman. Right now, your two lives couldn’t be more different: your album had dropped three weeks ago, one week after the deal was made. It has been an absolute success with four of your songs sitting in the top ten since the drop. You were doing interview after interview and rehearsals for your tour started up this past week. Meanwhile, Hugh was living the simple life. He has been done with his Deadpool and Wolverine promo for some time now and he’s been enjoying his free time. That was something you didn’t have much of as of recent- free time. You were trying to balance the few moments of freedom between all of the people you cared for, which mostly consisted of Ashley and Hugh. It’s gotten to a point where you were inviting your friends to the tour rehearsals just to be able to see them. When the idea first popped up, you had been afraid that they would be too distracting but the outcome was the opposite. Having a mini audience that weren’t part of the tour team, allowed everyone to make changes to things with the input of outside opinions. Ashley and a small group of your other friends were rehearsal regulars now.
You’d been seeing Hugh more privately, both of you agreeing to stay out of the public eye for a little bit while the dating rumors died down. Ashley had been a little too enthusiastic about your decision to be Hugh’s friend and nothing more. You loved reminding her that it was hopefully a temporary situation while we decided if being together exclusively was the right choice for both of us. She liked to ignore that part. Her despisement towards Hugh has been a mystery to you. She was always a little protective over you, as any normal friend would be, but it had never been to this extent.
“Ash, do you wanna come to rehearsal tomorrow. We’re finally putting the choreography on the actual stage. I think you’ll like it. It’s gonna be fun.” You ask. The two of you were currently at Target shopping for her new apartment. “Uhhh of course. I need to catch up on all of the songs I missed. Then maybe you’ll consider putting me up on stage.” The last sentence comes out more singsongy than usual as she tries to convince you. She has brought up being on stage so often, you were beginning to feel bad, but she was a shit dancer. You didn’t have the heart to tell her. “Cool. I have to be there at seven, but I was thinking you guys could show up at noon. That’s when we’re scheduled to move over to the stage.” Her eyes light up. “Ooo. Who else is coming? Please tell me you invited Taylor again, she’s fun.” She rambles on as she pushes the cart through the lamp aisle. “Oh. I didn’t invite the girls again. It’s uh…it’s just gonna be you and Hugh.” She puts the lamp she’s been observing back onto the shelf. “Actually, I just remembered I have plans tomorrow.” She states flatley and starts to push the cart again. You follow her, waiting until you enter an aisle that was free of people before confronting her. “Ashley, don't be like that.” You whine. “I’m not being like anything y/n. I just forgot I had plans.” She shrugs as she busies herself by looking at the bathroom decor on the shelves. “What do you have against him?” You blurt out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Cut the shit Ash. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I can’t even mention his name without you trying to change the subject. I can’t even talk to my best friend about the guy I like because of this weird fucking grudge you have against him.” She stares at you, giving you a few slow blinks before speaking again. “Fine. I’ll be there but I can’t promise I'll be civil.”
You didn’t push her any further, her answer was good enough for now. Target wasn’t the right place to fight with her about this and it probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. As much as you loved Ashley, she had a tendency to do and say wherever she pleased but when it came back to her, she played victim. It was becoming harder to deal with now that you weren’t children anymore. Later that night, while on facetime with Hugh, you decided to warn him about the shitshow which he was bound to end up in tomorrow.
“I’m not really sure what her deal is honestly. She won’t tell me why she doesn’t like you.” You pout. “It’s okay baby, not everyone is going to like me. I can handle it.”
The endearments had been something that Hugh didn’t drop after the ‘just friends’ talk. You thought about talking to him about it but the words sounded too good rolling off of his tongue. You argued that it wasn’t any different than your other friends calling you ‘babe’- it wasn’t the same at all but you didn’t care. You knew it meant more to both of you.
“I know, but it would be really nice if you two could be friends, ya know? She just gets too overprotective I guess…” You tell him, not really believing your own words. “You don’t have to come tomorrow if you don’t want to. We can pick another day for you to come if you feel like it’ll be too awkward.” “Tomorrow is fine y/n. Everything will be okay. Don’t think about it too much, I’m sure I can charm her a little bit, get her on my side.” He assures you.
Ashley was on her worst behavior and it was pissing you off. It felt like you had covered Hugh in blood and thrown him to the sharks- when you think about it, he probably would have had a better shot at fighting off the sharks. The entire day so far had been full of eye rolls and snarky comments. When you had a moment alone with Hugh, all you could do was apologize for her behavior and he swore it was fine, it wasn't your fault. Ashley was acting weird towards you the entire morning. When you offered her to get up and learn some choreo, she brushed you off saying that she still needed to wake up. You glanced over at Hugh and Ashley every few minutes as they talked. It looked civil. The music was too loud to hear what the conversation was about and it was making you nervous. Hugh kept his eyes mostly on you as he spoke but Ashley’s were set on Hugh, never looking your way. You tried your best to ignore it, focusing on doing your job.
For one of the songs, you would be giving one of the dancers named Ethan a lap dance. He had become a good friend over the past year you had known him and he made the whole grinding on him thing a lot less awkward than you thought it would be. “Are you and eye candy over there still playing friends?” Ethan asks as he gestures towards where Hugh and Ashley sat. “Yes..but it’s more lenient. Kinda like dating but nothing exclusive.” You explain, eyes on Hugh. He’s looking back at you and you’re sure he can tell that you’re talking about him. “You should do the dance for him, since he’s a special guest today and all.” He offers, smirk present on his face. “You don’t think that would be too mean? I want him to want me but I don’t wanna ruin the man. At least not yet anyways.” A similar smirk to Ethan’s was rising to your lips at the thought of Hugh being flustered over you. “I think you should do it.” You think about it for a moment and shame yourself for how quickly you made your decision. “You’re a bad influence.” You tell Ethan. Hugh’s eyes are still on you and you point your finger at him and wiggle it, motioning him to come here.
“I’m gonna go sit down, have fun.” Ethan says and goes down the stairs to the stage as Hugh walks up them. “What’s up sweetheart?” He asks. “Ethan isn’t feeling well right now, would you mind standing in for him? You don’t have to do anything, just sit in that chair.” You point to the metal fold up chair that sits in the center of the catwalk. “Yea I can do that.” His smile is authentic, happy to help. “Thank you baby.” You say and you reach up to leave a quick kiss on his cheek. You pick up the mic that you sat on the stage floor earlier and turn it on. “We’re ready to go for the next one.” You announce through it so the sound crew could hear you. They announce ‘places’ and Hugh sits down in the chair. You walk over to the marker on the floor that indicates your starting position for this song. It’s about five feet behind Hugh’s chair, leaving him clueless on what’s happening.
The song starts and you strut to the beat until you reach the chair. Your hands are on either side of Hugh’s chest and you move your hands around the same way that you had practiced many times before. His chest was hard and you could feel the muscles of his pecs. You slide your hands up to his shoulders and walk slowly around the chair until you're right in front of Hugh. The song slows at this point, giving the perfect moment for you to slowly drop yourself into his lap, arms around his neck. There’s three quick beats and you bounce up and down. Hugh’s eyes are wide in surprise. He’s a lot taller than Ethan and his thighs hold more muscle. It took a moment to get used to as the routine went on. The entire dance was pretty stereotypical: a lot of grinding, ass popping, and touching. You spent a good majority of the song whispering the words quietly to Hugh. He kept his hands to himself, not wanting to interrupt whatever move you had to do next. When the song ends, you’re out of Hugh’s lap and standing a foot in front of him for your ending pose. The crew gives you the okay to move and you turn back to Hugh, mischief present in your face. “Thank you Hugh!” You squeal, giving him a quick hug once he stands up. “Yea. yea…You’re such a tease.” He says the second part low enough so only you hear. As he walks back to his seat, you could have sworn you saw him trying to discreetly reposition whatever was happening in his pants.
During your lunch break, Ashley’s strange act continued as she made up some excuse for her to leave- you could tell she was lying. Hugh and yourself ended up ordering subs from some local deli and ate in your dressing room. “So what do you think about everything so far?” You ask, referring to the choreo you’d been learning for the past three hours. “It’s…fun.” You huff at that. “You’re so terrible at describing things Hugh. Oh my god.” You complain. “I’m sorry…It's good.” You give him a blank stare, not satisfied with his answers. “Okay okay, don’t give me that look. You’re phenomenal…watching you dance and feeling you dance on me is making it really hard to just be your friend.” He shrugs, taking another bite of his sandwich. His answer makes you blush, familiar butterflies fly around your tummy. “Oh.” It’s all you could say. “You don’t have to accept my invites if it’s too hard on you.” “Hm. That’s not it, babe. I definitely want to be here. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that little stunt you pulled earlier.” He winks as he refers to the lapdance.
Comments like that had been frequent throughout the past month. Hugh Jackman was a natural flirt. That was a fact you had the pleasure of learning from personal experience and the displeasure of learning from the internet. You had seen countless videos of him being a flirty slut- as a married man. It worried you and had been something you’d been thinking about nonstop since the discovery. Him flirting with you was one thing, but you didn’t like the idea of him flirting with others when he was ‘yours’. You’d also seen videos of him mentioning multiple times that he liked older women, which had become another concern that ate at your brain. Last week, Hugh had come over for a movie night and you planned on casually mentioning the apprehension you had around the issue.
“Sooo, I heard you liked older women?”
Casual had never been your thing.
“Uh..yea. It’s a preference of mine.” You could tell that the question made him uncomfortable. The tiny little toxic part of your heart was happy about that. You let out a short hum. “What was that for?”
“What was what for?”
“Your little ‘hm.’.” You shrug as you speak your next words. “It’s just interesting.”
“What’s interesting.” “You having a preference for older women.”
“How is that any different from you liking older men?” He asks genuinely and you could honestly smack him right now for not seeing the issue and you would if he wasn’t across the couch. “Hm. I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m currently interested in an older man and you’re straying quite far from your preferences Mr.Jackman.” He lets out a deep belly laugh. “Why are you laughing at me?” You cross your arms, a small pout sits on your lips. “You're jealous.” He smirks. “I’m not jealous. I’m skeptical.” “There's no reason to be.” His eyes are gentle. “If you say so.” You didn’t want to damper the mood but your mind was filled with ‘what ifs’ and you needed reassurance.
“Hey. Come here sweet girl.” He motions for you to sit closer to him. You crawl over and his arm drapes over your shoulder. Your head rests on his chest and his cheek is resting on the crown of your hair. “I promise you have nothing to worry about. I like you and only you.” “Pinky promise?” You look up at him, holding out your pinky. He lets out a chuckle and links his pinky with your own. “Pinky promise.” He was looking down at you. You were staring in his eyes, watching the reflection from the flame of the pumpkin pie scented candle that sat on the coffee table flicker. He slowly leaned down, allowing his lips to softly touch yours. It was a lazy kiss, lips moving every few seconds. You could feel every part of Hugh’s lip slide against yours. The slowness of it all was arousing- the heat from his body wasn’t helping. The upward stretch of your neck became sore after a few minutes, giving you the perfect excuse to climb into his lap. The makeout session lasted about thirty minutes, never speeding up, both of you enjoying the intimacy of the demure, slow kisses. You ground your hips into his in an undemanding manor, not wanting to rush the moment, just needing to feel him against you. A few whispered moans were thrown about, a few neck kisses here and there. The rules were beyond broken that night. You liked to imagine what would have happened if there wasn’t a knock on the door from the food you ordered earlier.
Your cheeks heat up at the memory as you pick an onion off of your sandwich. Hugh was right, you were a tease. That night, he had initiated the kiss but you turned it into so much more. You could've stopped it, blaming it on the pain in your neck, but you wanted more. With Hugh, you always wanted more. It was your stupid idea to be his friend first and it was torturing you. “What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?” Hugh asks, dragging you out of your thoughts. “Nothing...These onions are too strong.” You flick the onion you picked off onto the paper that was once wrapped around your sub. “You sure that’s it? You can talk to me babe.” He’s sincere. He’s always so patient and caring towards you. It makes your heart swell. “I was thinking about our movie night.” You admit. “Anything in particular from that night?” He asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about, the wide smirk on his stupid perfect face makes that obvious. “I wasn’t thinking about that, you perv. I was thinking about how I forgot to tell you that I’m going to New York next week.” He didn’t need to know that you were for sure thinking about every detail of his dick that you could remember and you really did forget to tell him that, so you weren’t technically lying. “Hm. I wonder what made you forget?” Smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m gonna ignore that comment.” And you did ignore it, immediately talking about your upcoming trip. “It's kinda gonna be my first time there. I performed a show there but I was gone the next day. I have an entire four days to explore this time. Well except for when I work but whatever.” You shrug at the end, voice filled with excitement ready to see the city in its full glory. “What do you have scheduled when you’re out there?”
“I have a photoshoot, meetings, then the Tonight Show.”
“First time on Fallon?” you laugh. “First time on any big talk show, I'm so fucking nervous.”
“Don’t be. Jimmy’s a great guy and you’re good at talking. It’s easy to pay attention to you.”
“Do you pay attention to me because I'm a good talker or do you pay attention to me because you think I'm pretty.” You were completely fishing for a compliment and you carried no shame for it. “Both.”
Hugh had become a really good friend and not just because the two of you shared an occasional kiss. He was there for you when you had no one else. The next day, Ashley came over and you tried to ask her why she lied about needing to leave rehearsal early. She either gave a vague answer for each question or completely dodged it. You never asked Hugh about what they talked about, wanting the answer from your best friend, but it was looking like you would have to turn to him to get closer to the truth. You invited her to New York the second you found out you were going. Trying to get her out of her funky mood, you brought it up, asking if she was excited that it was coming up so soon. She quickly agreed to the excitement but each word came out flat and uninterested. About an hour after she left your house, you got a text.
bestie boo: hey. i’m actually not gonna be able to make it to new york. sorry, ttyl.
The text caught you off guard but it wasn’t a total surprise due to Ashley’s behavior while she was at your house. That didn’t mean it hurt any less though. The consistent dodginess from her made your throat tighten up. Your first instinct was to text Hugh, so that’s what you did.
You: hey, are you busy rn?
Hugh <3: Hi baby. No, I'm not busy. What’s up?
You: can you come over? :(
Hugh <3: On my way!
When you opened the door for him, worry was written on his face. “What’s wrong?” He takes off his shoes, the same way he has the past few times he’s come over. “I feel like you’re always asking me that.” You slump over slightly. “I gotta make sure my girl is okay.” All of the sadness you had over Ashley almost vanished entirely. “I’m your girl?” You ask looking up at him. “Of course you’re my girl y/n. Just waiting for the day you wanna label it.” He smiles down at you and offers his hand. “Now c’mon, tell me what’s got you all blue.” You grab his hand and he follows the familiar route to your living room couch. He sits down and pulls you down towards him. You’re sitting next to him, your side against his. He pulls your legs up so they lay across his lap and he rubs slow circles into your thigh.
“What’s got that pretty face of yours frowning?” He pinches your thigh lightly as he asks the question. “It’s Ashley, she’s being really weird Hugh. She always tells me things and now she’s just…not.” He has his own frown now. “I’m sorry baby….Is this about me again?”
“Kinda but not totally. I just wanted to know why she doesn’t like you. You’ve become so important to me and I plan on having you around for a while. She’s been my best friend since we were kids, I want her to like you and be able to be around you.” You put your hands over your eyes, your palms applying pressure on them to prevent the tears from falling. All the pent up frustration was starting to reach its limit. “Hey, look at me.” He grabs your chin, a gesture he’s done more times than you can count. “Don’t let me come in between your friendships.” You sigh. “It’s not your fault Hugh.”
“I…I think it might be my fault a little bit.” He admits with a guilty expression, making your heart sting. “What do you mean?”
“She uh… Ashley might have flirted with me yesterday. I shut it down but…” He sighs nervously. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know how to tell you to be honest..” The room around you both felt stuffie and too small. The tears that were held back by the palms of your hands just a few minutes ago, spill out. You were feeling too many emotions: hurt, anger, betrayal.
This wasn’t the first time Ashley had done something like this. She’d done it with Pedro when the two of you were already together. The only difference is that she felt so guilty that she confessed. This time, Ashley was too much of a coward to tell you what she had done to your face. You didn’t want to lose your best friend but you couldn’t keep her around when all she seemed to do was hurt you. Hugh holds you as you cry, not saying a word. He leaves little kisses on your head and tells you that ‘it’s okay’ over and over. He let you cry without knowing what it was you were crying about. You felt so stupid to have let this slip past you. It had been almost the exact same situation before. Ashley acted weird towards Pedro, she starts being vague, and then you find out what she did. Déjà fucking vu. You couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s funny sweetheart?” Your mind had been racing so fast, you almost forgot that Hugh’s was still here holding you. He had gone still, the only reminder of his presence was the weight of his arms around you. “I just can’t believe she did it again without me noticing. I feel dumb.” His body jerks in surprise. “Again?”
—
It was Saint Patrick's day and you were at Ashley’s place getting ready for a party. It was a weird holiday to throw a party for but people used any excuse to get drunk. Leading up to this day, Ashley has been yapping non stop about going to her first celebrity party but tonight, she couldn’t have been more quiet. You excused her behavior for nerves, not questioning it more. Her demeanor has been different for a few days. Ashley wasn’t one to open up quickly or talk about her problems. You only pried as much as you could before being shut out and right now you had been completely blocked off. You tried your best to ignore it, trying to focus on the night ahead of you.
Billie is who had invited you to the party as the two of you grew close. Being the same age, doing the same job, and experiencing the same things made it impossible for the two of you not to be friends. The party was going to be filled with people you’d never met before, so you asked her if you could bring a person or two- Ashley and Pedro. It was when you told Ashley that Pedro would also be coming, that her prior eagerness for the party dissipated.
Just as you sat down to start your makeup, Ashley finally spoke. “Y/n…I think I’m gonna skip out on the party tonight.” You lift your head to look at her through the mirror.“What, why? We’ve been talking about this for weeks.”
“I just don’t feel like going anymore.” She’s scrolling through her phone. “You’re such a shitty liar, Ash. What’s up? Why don’t you wanna go anymore?” You turn the spinny chair your in to face her. She put her phone down and the look on her face was one you wouldn’t ever forget. It was a look full of guilt, shame. You were trying to comfort your best friend while she was about to tell you the most heat shattering words. “I don’t think it’s smart to be around Pedro.” Your brows knit together in confusion. “Why not. I thought you guys were good now, that you liked him?” She’s fidgeting with her hands. “Y/n we kissed.”
“Who kissed?” You ask, hoping you were misinterpreting what she was saying. “Me and Pedro.” You hadn’t misunderstood her words.
Your heart shattered. Pedro has only been your boyfriend for a little over a month but it still hurts. You were still in the honeymoon phase, where everything felt like love even though it was just over infatuation with the new relationship. Without thinking about it, you started collecting your things to leave, gathering the makeup you just placed onto the table back into its bag. “What are you doing?” Ashley asks nervously. “I’m leaving.” She didn’t try to stop you.
When you got home, you felt numb. There was a strong ache in your chest where your heart sits but there wasn’t an ounce of emotions flowing through you. The betrayal of the person you trusted most in this life was worse than any other pain you could think of. You spend hours laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, when a knock finally pulls you out of whatever trance you were in. “Hey baby. Ashley texted me saying I should come check on you.” He steps into the house and follows you down the entry hall. “Oh I didn’t know you guys were on texting terms now…” You trail off for a second, not leaving Pedro enough time to say anything before you speak again. “Huh…You know, I guess it would make sense, seeing as you guys are apparently on kissing terms.” You stop and stare at him, looking dead in his eyes. He winces. “She told you about that.” The statement pisses you off. “What the fuck do you mean ‘she told you about that.’? Were you planning on keeping it a secret?” Your voice gradually rises alongside the anger in your body. “No, but I-”
“but fucking what Pedro? You kiss my best fucking friend and then hide it from me??” Your finger hurts from the pressure of pointing it into his chest. “I didn’t kiss her.” You ignore him. “When did it happen?” “Baby, listen to me. I didn’t kiss Ashley.” He ignores you. “WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?” You scream at him, all of the emotions spilling over. You sink down to the floor, abandoning your prior standing position, and you cry.
“I didn’t kiss her babygirl. I would never hurt you like that.” He sits down next to you, his back against the wall. You don’t speak. “It was last Tuesday, when she came over to talk to me like you asked her to. She said it was because you wanted her to like me, for us to be friends. She started acting differently and before I knew it she was kissing me. That’s all that happened baby.” He explains as he runs his fingers along the baby hairs on your forehead. “You didn’t kiss her?” You look into his big brown puppy eyes, searching for the truth. “I didn’t kiss her.” He affirms. “I promise, babygirl.”
“Pinky promise?” He interlocks his pinky with yours.
You didn’t speak to Ashley for two weeks after that incident. You wanted so badly to know why she did it, but in the end you didn’t think it mattered, each outcome still ended with her being a selfish person- a bad friend. You didn’t really talk things out either but you decided to forgive her. The friendship was too important to you at the time to give up but you wouldn’t let her be anywhere near Pedro again. The idea of them being friends was out the window.
—
“What a bitch.” His thick accent shining through extra hard with his own anger.- it makes you laugh. “I don’t even know what to do at this point. I don’t think I can trust her anymore.” he nods in agreement. “I know sweetheart but I'm here for you, no matter what you decide to do. Okay?” it's your turn to nod. “Okay. Thank you Hugh, really. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You look up at him, giving him a small smile and a quick kiss on his side. “You know what sucks more than possibly losing my best friend for good?” You ask, humor shines in your eyes. “What’s that?”
“Losing my New York tour guide.” He laughs. “You’re laughing now, but it’s serious. She created these crazy itineraries for us to be the most obnoxious tourist. Now I have to rely on my own planning skills, which aren’t great.” Hugh goes quiet for a moment. You search his face for his thoughts and he seems unsure of what he’s about to say.
“I could..uh. I could go to New York with you. I kinda need to go anyways, been meaning to go.” He says and when you don’t speak right away, he panics. “You don’t have to say yes. I know we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I understand if you want some time for yourself..” You giggle at his overthinking. “Hugh, I would love for you to come to New York with me.” He lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. “Okay good. That’s great! I needed to go back a few weeks ago actually so this works out for the both of us.”
“Why didn’t you go back when you needed to?” His cheeks go red. “Oh my god! You totally stayed because of me didn’t you?”
“Maybe..” He admits. “I was scheduled to fly back to New York before your album party, but then you texted me. I couldn’t pass that up.”
“You keep acting like this and you’re gonna make me fall in love with you Hugh Jackman.” A smug smile falls onto his lips. “You better.”
The few days leading up to you leaving for New York were short. Hugh left for the city the next day, promising he would see you the moment you landed, sealing the promise with a quick kiss. You busied yourself with tour rehearsals and interview prep. It had been a lonely few days. Hugh was gone and you weren’t talking to Ashley, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You and Hugh texted daily but it wasn’t the same as being in his presence, a presence you had come to enjoy having around. You were close to saying ‘fuck it’ and be fully committed to him but a part of you was still hesitant. Too much has happened recently, it feels like you can’t think straight half the time. Your last relationship was only a few months ago, your best friend was trying to steal every man you liked, and you’re at the peak of your career. You needed a mental breather.
LAX airport was cold and stuffy. People were walking casually towards their destination with a few runners here and there. While you loved traveling, airports made you feel uneasy. There were so many people going to the most random places on the most random days and random times. It was uncomfortable to think about. You sat there in silence, too afraid to wear headphones. You liked to know what was happening around you at all times, a freak peeve. When it was finally time to board the plane, you were already exhausted from it all. Almost seven hours later, you landed at JFK airport in New York City. Once you turn off airplane mode on your phone, you see a few texts from Hugh. He insisted that he could pick you up from the airport and take you to your hotel. Your ‘personal chauffeur” he jokingly called himself. You texted Hugh back as people hurriedly grabbed their belongings and scurried down the thin aisles.
You: just landed! see you soon hot stuff ;)
He told you beforehand that he made arrangements to pick you up in a private area, away from prying eyes. You weren’t nearly famous enough to know what that means, so you simply followed the instructions he gave you. It was a little confusing at first, having only been in the busy airport once before. With some help from workers, Hugh was finally in your view. He had a big smile on his face with his arms open wide for you. You walked with a little pep in your step, suitcase rolling behind you. When you got close enough, you let the handle go and ran the rest of the short distance to Hughs arms. His embrace was warm and welcoming, a familiar place.
“Missed you sweet girl.” He mumbles into your hair. You pull back slightly, arms still holding him. “Missed you too.” Your voice is shy, almost forgetting how it felt to have his attention on you. You had missed him, more than you thought you would. Hearing his voice again made life feel real again after the past mundane days you’ve endured. The walk to his car was intimate- his arm sat atop your shoulders as you walked side by side. He insisted on rolling your luggage for you and wouldn’t take no for an answer when you protested. A true gentleman. He opened the passenger door for you, making sure you were in before putting your suitcase in the trunk and hopping into the driver's side. He looked a lot more presentable than you did. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt that hugged his biceps in a way that almost made you drool. It was simple but he looked delicious. Your sweats and hoodie couldn’t compare. His beard had finally grown in, no longer the prickly stubble that rested there a month ago. It was full and you hoped he would let it grow to that length that made him look even more expensive.
“The option to stay at my place is still on the table if you want it babe.” He says, resting his hand on your thigh as he begins to pull out of the hidden parking lot. There was something so attractive about a man driving. Hugh’s side profile was godly and him driving really did something to your brain. “That wouldn’t be very friendly of us Hugh.” You rest your hand on top of his. “I think that’s the friendliest thing I could possibly do. Offer you a place to stay while in town instead of staying in a dingy hotel.” He eggs on trying to convince you. He first pitched the idea the night he offered to come to New York with you. You immediately declined, not wanting to invade his space. You wouldn’t know how to handle it, it made things too real. He had been over to your house countless times, but you had never been to his. You thought it best to keep it that way. You weren’t sure you could control yourself around him when you were surrounded by all things him. “Nothing is ever friendly between us Hugh.” He squeezes your thigh. “I have to argue with you there baby. In my humble opinion, we are too friendly.” He glances over to you and gives you a wink. He hasn’t been afraid of letting his intentions known. To let you know that he wants you, not as a friend. You’ve seen just how bad he craved you and it was tempting. He knew he had a dangerous effect on you, one that you worked really hard to control.
“You’re always so horny.” You mumble. “It’s hard not to be when I have a gorgeous girl like you around all the time.” God he was so good with his words. His voice and his way of speaking. It was no mystery as to why he had people swooning for him left and right- you included. “Whatever.” You open your phone to text Stacy, letting her know you landed and in good hands. It was weird flying solo. You got so accustomed to flying along Ashley or Stacy. You weren’t particularly mad at the change if it meant you got to see Hugh’s face light up just at seeing you again. “Will you at least come over once?” He asks, hopeful. “I’ve seen your house, I’d really like you to see mine. It’s where I live most of the time. It would mean a lot.” The squeeze on your thigh lingers, his grip lasting longer than the previous one. You didn’t know how to explain that you really didn’t want to do that- be in his house. You didn’t think he would understand what you mean when you say ‘it’s too much’. The desperation in his voice, the yearning he felt to have you in his home. You couldn’t say no. “Yea I can do that.” The small smile that rested on his lips grew, his face lighting up. It made your stomach twist up in knots.
The hotel that Stacy booked for you was grand. The elegance and class in the places you’ve stayed at while traveling has never failed to amaze you. Growing up, your family didn’t have a lot of money. When you went on family trips, the cheapest hotel, usually a motel 6, was your usual nightly accommodations. The places you stayed in now would have little you screaming and running around. The whole ‘entering fame’ process had been a huge culture shock that you were still learning to navigate appropriately.
“Hm. Not too shabby, my house is better though.” Hugh says as he sits your luggage to the side. He had put a hat and sunglasses on, trying to make it less obvious that it was him- trying to hide that it was him who was with you. The hat, sunglasses, and beard combo was doing a number on your body. It took a lot of strength to keep yourself from dragging him to the bed and riding him until you were satisfied. Though, you’re not sure that you could ever be fully satisfied with Hugh. Not because you were scared he wouldn’t be good in bed but because you knew once he had you, you would need him again and again until you physically couldn’t handle him anymore. You felt him that one night on the couch, movie night, you knew that man was packing and that it wouldn’t take much for him to bruise your cervix.
“Hugh, please.” You warn him. He puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry…Just don’t forget that it’s an option.” “I don’t think you’d let me forget..” You let out a breathy laugh after. Hugh sits down at a small table and watches you as you walk around, exploring the room. You unpack a few things to make it easier on yourself later. “Are you up for exploring today?” He asks as he walks into the bathroom, where you’re placing your toiletries along the vanity counter. “Oo! I’d love to explore. I have one weird request though.” You're still facing the mirror when Hugh comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, sitting a little higher due to his height. “What’s that baby?” He’s watching you through the mirror, as you organize your skin care. “I wanna go to Trinity Church to see Hamilton's grave.” You say nonchalantly. Hugh laughs and questions you. “I need to sing the ‘he’s buried in Trinity Church near you’ line from Hamilton.” Hugh continues laughing. “What!?” He barely gets the words out. It somewhat offends you. “I thought you’d understand, being a theater nerd and all but I guess not.” You cross your arms and try to break through his hold to walk away. “Mhm. I’m sorry, come back. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. You’re just full of surprises.” You relax in his hold.
“Does that mean you’ll take me?” You look at his eyes through the mirror. “Yea i’ll take you.” He smiles. You look at Hugh in the mirror, observing how the two of you look together. He looks really good holding you and not to toot your own horn, but Hugh and yourself made an attractive couple. He looked good on your arm and you looked good on his. “You're so pretty, baby.” He whispers. “Every time I look at you, I’m blown away that you’re hanging around with me.” His arms tighten around you. “Hmm. I think we look good together, don’t you?” You reach your neck up to look at him as best as you can given the angle. He studies your two bodies in the mirror before agreeing. “Yea we do.”
Walking around with Hugh felt freeing. You’ve been trying so hard to keep things private lately that every time you weren’t in the secure confines of your house with him, you felt panicked. It was something that crossed your mind before the two of you left the hotel but he assured you that it wasn’t very likely that someone would notice both of you. You were a little doubtful in his words, opting to dress in a way that protected you from the early fall breeze and from making it too obvious of who you were. Hugh had been right though, you both were able to walk around pretty freely, undisturbed. He brought you to trinity church first and reluctantly filmed a video of you dramatically singing the line from Hamilton. To you it was peak comedy and Hugh was being a big hater. He took you to a few of his favorite places, hidden gems. It was perfect. You wanted to hold his hand, bodies brushing against each other as you walked, but you couldn’t. The night ended by Hugh taking you to get traditional New York pizza. He ordered a large pepperoni and you both walked back to the hotel. The moment your room door was opened, you were pulling your heeled boots off. The walking destroyed your feet but you’d gone beyond your daily step goals- a win is a win. Sitting at the table with Hugh, you both grabbed a slice of pizza. He waited for you to take a bite first, looking for your reaction. When you took a bite, you let out a moan- you weren’t sure if it was because it tasted that good or because of how hungry you were. “That good?” Hugh asks in amusement. “Yes, I was starving.” He chuckles and takes his own big bite. The two of you down the entire pizza at an embarrassingly fast rate. “Did you have fun today?” He asks you. “Yea, I really did. Thank you Hugh.”
When Hugh left, you scrolled through all of the pictures and videos you had taken today. You snuck a couple of Hugh and you might have stared at them a little too long. You watched the Trinity Church video so you could post it on TikTok. As you uploaded it into the app and were giving it one last watch before hitting post, a sound caught your attention. You grabbed your headphones and connected them to get a better listen. As you were singing, you could hear Hugh quietly laughing in the background. The sound brought a smile to your face, replaying it over and over just to hear it again. You hit the ‘post’ and called it a night.
The next morning was an early one. You had to be at the photo shoot at five am to get ready, meaning you were out the door at four. Stacy met you down in the lobby and led you to the car she had waiting for you. “How was your first day in New York? You and Ashley have fun?” She asks as she buckles her seatbelt. “Oh, Ashley didn’t come, we aren’t friends anymore. My first day was good though, really fun.” You smile at the memories of the day prior, ignoring the small pain from hearing Ashley’s name. Stacy gives you a questioning look. You sigh before explaining, “She was being weird and it turns out she was flirting with Hugh the other day when they came to rehearsals. She didn’t even have the decency not to do it in the exact same room.” Her expression turns to an understanding one. “Well, good riddance. I knew after the first time that the girl was nothing but trouble. Good for you babe.” She types on her phone for a moment before turning her attention back to you- your staring out the window, taking in the somewhat empty streets that were full of people the night before.
“So, what did you do yesterday that was so fun?” You don’t look at her when you respond. “Hugh took me exploring, showed me the city.” She snorts. “Hugh, huh?” You look at her sheepishly. “Yea. He felt bad that I didn’t have someone to go with me so he offered.” You shrug. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“That you wouldn’t be able to stay away from that man.” She shakes her head. You sometimes forgot just how well Stacy knows you after years of her by your side. The car comes to a stop outside of a short building, shorter than the other ones around it anyway. You sat in hair and makeup for a while, talking to the artists as they worked. You always liked making conversation with the people that helped you, it was always interesting hearing everyone's stories. The photo shoot wasn’t anything crazy. It was a well known photographer that had worked with major stars, her most recent model being Zendaya. It was a huge compliment that she wanted to work with you. It wasn’t like other shoots you had done before, this had been way more artsy and free. You were so used to doing things for brands or for your own music, where everything needed to be a certain way. It was nice to work on projects where you didn’t have to think but just be you.
When the shoot was over, you sat in a small lobby with Stacy as you waited for the car to come pick you up. You opened tiktok to see what people were saying in the comments of your latest post. Most of them were freaking out over the laugh in the background, over analyzing it to find out who it was. There were a few comments that speculated that it might be Hugh and it made you laugh, shocked by the crazy detective skills your fans had. You kept scrolling when you saw a comment that caught your attention.
‘Y/N GET YOUR MAN UNDER CONTROL SDJFJSDF’
You clicked on the ‘view replies’ tab under it trying to figure out what they were talking about. Thankfully, other people were just as confused as you were with multiple ‘context?’ comments under it.
‘look at hughs recent instagram post 😭’
In curiosity, you closed Tiktok and opened instagram. You went to the search bar, clicking on his username from your recent searched section. You click on the most recent picture making it enlarge and you let out an audible gasp. “Are you okay?” Stacy asks. You almost forgot where you were for a second. “Yea i’m fine…funny tiktok comment.” You tried to play it off, hoping she’d buy the excuse. It seems to work as she gives a small nod, looking back down to her phone. You look back down at your own device, in complete and utter shock. You knew he was built, seeing other pictures he had posted and endless edits of his greasy hawaiian rolls from Deadpool and Wolverine.
This however seemed so much slutier. He was in, what you assumed was his home bathroom, taking shirtless pictures of himself. You could tell it had been recent because his beard and hair were the same length that it’s been for the past week. You felt frozen, not knowing what to do. He looked absolutely scrumptious. Pulling out your airpods from your purse, you put them on to listen to the attached audio. You had no fucking clue how you were supposed to look him in the eyes the next time you saw him. His voice was something special. It had the ability to make your knees weak at the sound. This was no different. It felt like he was teasing you subtly. You quickly screenshot the picture and swipe out of instagram, opening your message app.
You: I leave you alone for less than 24 hours and you’re over here posting thirst traps for the internet…
Hugh <3: I just wanted to thank my team. As the caption said…I am grateful.
You: hmm you say it’s being grateful, I say it’s being a SLUT!!
You: you look really fucking good though…
Hugh<3: 😂😂😂
Hugh<3: Thank you baby. Do I get to see you today or are you still busy?
You: I have meetings the rest of the day :(
Hugh<3: It’s okay sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow?
You: I have fallon tmrw night but i’ll be free at 8pm if you wanna meet up then?
Hugh<3: That works for me. Text me when you’re done for the day, okay? Talk to you later baby
The car finally stops signaling that you were at the first meeting of the day. There were endless introductions, hand shaking, and smiling. It was a lot more tiring than it sounded. Stacy was doing most of the work, covering major details for whatever was being discussed- again you mainly sat and listened. There were a few times when you really had to pay attention as key points were being made but nothing would be final until your team and lawyer looked over whatever deals were being discussed. There was a short two hour break of freedom that Stacy and yourself used to grab some food. Then it was right back to work. You were somewhat grateful for Stacy scheduling all of the heavy work stuff on one day because it meant you didn’t have to do this again on the remaining days of your trip. Stacy liked to set it up that way, giving you more time to be free from work, you loved her for it. The two of you had dinner together and went your separate ways after. You got back to your hotel at ten and to say you were worn out was an understatement. Your head was hurting from all the talking and bright fluorescent lights of each office you sat in today.
You: I’m finally freeeee!!
After hitting send, you hopped in the shower. The best thing about staying in an expensive hotel was how great the water pressure was. The hot water felt like heaven against your sticky skin, the thick body glitter from the photoshoot finally slipping away. You let your mind wander back to the picture that had been in your mind all day. Running your hands down your body, teasing yourself while imagining that it was Hugh’s wide hands instead. You let your hands disappear in the place that ached the most, working as your mind played the fantasies that ate away at you. You could almost feel Hugh’s mouth whispering against your ear as the feeling of ecstasy washes over your body, the running water muffling the sounds of your pleasure.
Hugh still hadn’t texted you back when you had gotten out of the shower. It was unusual for him to take so long to respond but given the time- and his age- he was probably asleep. The downside to dating older men was their need to be in bed so early. You giggled to yourself thinking about the thought of Hugh being knocked the fuck out in bed after yawning since the clock hit 7pm. Laying in bed, you whipped out your phone opening twitter. You tweeted a quick post, reminding your fans to watch Jimmy Fallon tomorrow night. You scrolled lazily for a while, feeling the sleep take over you but when you saw one post in particular, you felt wide awake.
‘Hugh Jackman and ex-wife seen walking around New York together a year after separation.’
You had no right to feel the jealousy and anger that sat tight in your chest. His ex-wife was something you were completely aware of but it was a subject neither Hugh or yourself had talked about. You understood that she would always be around, after being married to her longer than you’d even been alive. You laugh in disbelief. It sounded so stupid when you put it like that. The age gap never bothered you until you put it in perspective. You couldn’t help who you liked though. The overthinking hit faster than you could stop it. You wondered why he didn’t tell you that he was seeing her today. His smile in the picture was a little too wide, he looked too happy. He wasn’t even yours to claim, yet you wanted her to know that he had you now, that he wanted you. The vile thoughts that danced around your head were making your temper rise. You set some alarms and tried to get some sleep. Most of the night was tossing and turning, thinking about Hugh’s ex-wife.
Hugh<3: Good morning sweet girl. I’m sorry for not getting back to you last night. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you to text me lol
It was what you saw first when your alarm went off. It was sent a few hours ago since you gave yourself some time to sleep in, given the trouble you had getting to sleep last night. You ultimately decided that you wouldn’t be mad at him for it, you didn’t have a reason to be. If the two of you were official, things would be different, but you weren’t. You were going to try your best to swallow the jealousy and let it be.
You: good morning baby! I figured that’s what happened lol
Hugh<3: Are you excited for Fallon tonight? 😄
You: yea…only a tinsy bit nervous
Hugh<3: You’re gonna crush it babe, I know it. I still get to see you after yea? Miss you
You: I miss you too :(
You: do you wanna meet at the hotel after or…?
Hugh<3: I can pick you up and we can go to my place?
You stared at the message contemplating it. Hugh’s house was already a fear of yours but his house at night seemed a lot more intimate. You felt the need to be that intimate with him though- it was fueled by the pictures from last night, you knew it was. If that hadn't happened, you’d be saying no, making up excuses not to. You needed the validation too much to think straight.
You: yea we can do that :)
Once you get to the Tonight Show studio, you barely have time to put your things down before you're being guided around. Thankfully, you warmed up your voice before leaving your hotel room just in case you didn’t have time to do it here. The crew had you and your dancers do a quick run through of the song to make sure everything was working before you were sent to your dressing room to get ready. Kat, your stylist, and Amari, your makeup and hair artist, were already in the room ready to get to work. You took the time to catch up with both of them, the three of you falling into a familiar routine. Your nerves started to build up as it got closer to the filming time. About twenty minutes before you were called to stage, Jimmy came back to introduce himself. He was a really sweet guy, super bubbly and humble. It eased your mind a little bit but they shot right back up when your name was called. “Y/n L/n everybody!”. The studio audience erupted in cheers as you walked to Jimmy’s desk. “Welcome to the show, how are you doing tonight?” He asks. “I’m doing amazing, thank you so much for having me.” The cheers finally slow down. “So, I got told that this is your first late night show interview, is that right?”
“Yes, it is!”
“I’m honored to be the first.”
“I’m glad it’s you who popped my late night talk show cherry, Jimmy.” You joke, using your song's title as a pun, which he does his famous laugh at. The interview was going really well, most of the questions being ones you’ve answered countless times before.
“There have been a few rumors going around after a tiktok you posted the other day and I have to ask.” You nod ready for whatever question he’s about to ask. “Is the laugh behind the camera Mr. Hugh Jackman?” Your smile falters for a second before you put it right back on. This was something you weren’t prepared for at all. You let out a laugh. “The fans can keep speculating. A girl never kisses and tells.” It probably wasn’t the best answer- you know it wasn’t the best answer- but it’s all you could come up with in that moment. You just hoped no one noticed the split second your calm facade slipped, that it felt longer than it had actually lasted.
Hugh was already there when you were free to leave, having texted him in the spare moment you had while getting changed into your performance outfit. Once you were in the car, he didn’t hesitate to ask how it went. “It was good. He uh…he asked about you.” You don’t why you were concerned about how he would respond, but you were. “About me?” He glances at you quickly before focusing on the road again. “Uhh..yeah. I posted the Hamilton video on tiktok and you can hear you laughing in it. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal but people started to guess it was you. I’m sorry.” You slump down into the seat, waiting for his anger to come but it never does. “Don’t apologize baby. I want people to know I’m with you.” He never fails at knowing what to say, his words always flow out of his mouth effortlessly. “I kinda redirected the question though, not really giving a solid answer. I don’t know, it really threw me off.” He nods. “They like to do that, be sneaky.”
It took a little longer than expected to get to his place, New York traffic moving at a snail's pace. When you do finally arrive, he’s pulling into an underground parking garage that sits under a skyscraper that you can’t see the top of. The elevator ride up was easily the longest one you’d ever been on, his penthouse being on the 56th floor. He opens the door and turns on the light switch that is conveniently placed in the entrance. “Welcome to my home. Mi casa es su casa.” He jokes and you let out a short snort at the stupid joke. “Would you like the official Hugh Jackman house tour?” Excitement was radiating off of him and you thought it was cute that he was this worked up about you being here, in his space. “I’d love one.” He offers his hand and you take it. Your once icy hand being warmed up instantly from his large, warm one.
As he dragged you to the living room, you started to feel that uneasiness again, like you shouldn’t be here. It kept nagging at you in the back of your head but you refused to pick at it. This was making Hugh happy, you weren’t going to ruin that because of whatever issues you were hiding. After showing you the living room, he pulls you into a large kitchen. A vase full of bright pink flowers, balloons, and a cookie cake that reads ‘congrats’ sits on the counter. You let go of his hand and walk over to the island while he stays put. You run your fingertips over the soft petals of the flowers, peonies- your favorite. “Do you like them? I uh..wasn’t sure what your flower preference was, so I chose peonies because of your song.”
The gesture makes you emotional. You’d never had a man go out of his way for you like this. He hadn’t known what flowers you liked but he remembered your song title to fill in the blank. A song where you had one line that says: ‘you got me roses when you know I like peonies’. A song from your debut album. “I love them. I love this.” You gesture to the display. You walk back over to where he stands and reach up to grab his face, bringing it down to give him a quick peck on his lips. “This means a lot to me, thank you Hugh.” The previous perturbation vanishing from your head, that cherished easiness you felt with Hugh slips back in. You were meant to be here.
“Shall we finish the tour?” You ask, spirits high. “Of course my lady, right this way.” He leads you room to room, giving you a mini explanation for each one. It was an average home, well average for a millionaire. It was obvious that a single, older man lived here but not in a bad way, there just wasn’t a woman's touch on the place. “This is bathroom number two, the one I use most frequently.” Something about the room seemed familiar as you looked around. There were a few art pieces on the marbled wall, a large mirror across from them. You were looking at the suspiciously large mirror when it clicked.
“OH MY GOD!! This is the thirst trap bathroom! I can’t believe I have the pleasure of being in such a sacred place.” You move around the space in a theatrical way, pretending you were in a place of true importance.
“Oh god…shut up.” He groans in embarrassment. “Could you reenact the moment? It would really help me get the full feel of the room.” You’re still teasing him but that question came back to slap you right across the face. You see a smirk on Hugh's face and he’s reaching his hands down and starts lifting his shirt off- but not in the practical way but in the super sexy crossed arms way. “WAIT! I was just kidding.” You practically scream at him, not mentally prepared to see Hugh shirtless in person. He stops and shrugs, turning around to leave the room. Before you can stop yourself, the horny part of your brain is speaking. “Wait no, keep going.” He slowly turns around with that stupid sexy smile of his and the raised eyebrow thing he does. The atmosphere of the small room changed instantly. He’s pulling at his shirt again, painfully slow in your opinion. As he inches it up, you analyze each slither of skin that’s freed. There is a patch of hair below his belly button leading down into his pants. A strong v-line and a thick vein practically popping out of his skin, begging to be traced with your tongue. The shirt goes higher and higher, revealing more of his chest. Each ab pops out and it’s like a gift from God right in front of your eyes. He pulls the shirt over his head, biceps flexing slightly, and drops the shirt onto the floor. You're frozen in place, not believing that this is real.
You never have been one to believe in karma but you must have been a saint in your past life to deserve this. You see his mouth move but don’t hear a word he says. All you see is the hairy chest you’d been thirsting over, moving closer until it’s right in front of you. He grabs your cheeks between one hand and faces your eyes up towards his own. “Are you okay y/n?” He has a worry behind his eyes.
“You’re like really hot. It’s actually frustrating how hot you are.” His grip on your face loosens as you speak. “You asked to see, I was only fulfilling your wishes.” You felt dizzy. He hadn’t even touched you and the way your whole face sits in his one hand and the way his abs are begging to be licked, had you flustered. You were drunk on Hugh. “You're wandering again…maybe I should put my shirt back on.” He goes to reach for it but you reach out, lightly grabbing his arm to stop him. “Not yet.” It’s mumbled and quiet, aimed more towards yourself than it was to him.
Hugh stands back up, his height towering over you. You couldn’t decide if he had always been so tall. Towering over you in a way that made your heart beat faster. Your mind was battling itself: the arousal wanting nothing more than for Hugh to do whatever he wanted with you while the more reasonable side knew that there were too many things that needed to be talked about before crossing this line. The line had been crossed many times before with the kisses, touches, hand holding- the night on the couch… Sex was different. You weren’t fond of casual sex, it was too intimate an act to categorize as such. Whatever was happening between Hugh and yourself was far from casual though and you trusted him not to hurt you.
“You’re kinda scaring me here, pretty girl. Are you okay?” You couldn’t tell him that seeing his chest had sent you into a horny dazed confusion. You looked up at him, into his worried eyes. He was always so concerned about your well being and he cared so much about everything going on in your life. God, you prayed that this wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.
“Kiss me please.” Your voice is shaky, unstable. “Are you sure baby?” His hands rest on your shoulders, eyes searching yours for any doubt.
“Please Hugh. I need you to kiss me.” His once troubled eyes turned dark as he bent down, kissing you like he never had before. The kiss was messy, full of hunger. His hands trailed down your sides until they cupped under the base of your ass. He effortlessly picks you up to sit you on the bathroom counter, lips never breaking contact. You could feel his tongue prodding at the entrance of your mouth as it asked for permission to enter. Granting access, your lips open, a throaty moan draws out as you feel his tongue swipe against yours. He pulls back for a moment. “Can I take this off? Is that okay?” He asks, referring to your shirt. His usual thick australian accent was soft in his breathy voice. You nod shyly and he doesn’t hesitate to reach down. You put your arms up to aid him as he gently pulls the shirt up and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck baby…so fucking pretty.” His hands cup your bra covered breast, thumbs softly trailing over your stiff nipples causing you to drop your head back with a moan of pleasure. “We never finished the tour, sweet girl.” His hands are still fondling you and you lift your head back up to look at him. “What?”
“There’s one more room I didn't get to show you.” His hands finally drop from your chest and he’s grabbing your hand, leading you towards whatever room it was that you hadn’t seen. He opens the door and the air surrounding you smells like Hugh. It was almost enough to make you pass out, head already light and fuzzy.
You don’t have time to look around, Hugh immediately turning you to face him, attacking your mouth once again. His hands are reaching for the button of your jeans, pulling them down slowly once he’s got them open. Hugh’s lips escape yours and trail down your neck, your chest, the sides and your body, and finally your stomach as he slowly lowers himself to sit on his knees. He lifted each of your feet, helping you out of each pant leg. At each lift of your leg, he also pulls each sock off, kissing your calves as he does so. You're left in nothing but a black bra and thong. “Mhm. Can I touch you baby?” He asks looking up at you. You nod, the position he was in, all too arousing. He practically growls at your answer and starts leaving messy kisses on your thighs, his hands gripping the back of them. His lips trail up higher, ghosting over where you needed him the most. You could feel his breath through the thin cotton of your panties. Your own breath hitches as he licks a long teasing path between your two folds, the cotton dipping into them from the weight of his tongue. He looks up at you through his lashes, asking for permission. You mouth a small ‘please’ the only word that seems to be in your vocabulary at the moment.
His thick fingers slip between the fabric and the skin on your hip on either side of your body, pulling the soaked thong down your legs. Before he continues, he’s standing up and guiding you to the bed. “Get up there and spread that pretty pussy for me baby. Wanna see it.” You waste no time doing what he asks, climbing up the unusually tall bed and laying on your back. You don’t open your legs right away, shyness creeping in. You were almost fully exposed to Hugh, the only thing still covered being your boobs, while he was almost fully covered, only his shirt being off. “Don’t go all shy on me now baby.” He says, guiding your legs open, pussy on full display. “Fuck..look at you sweet girl, all wet for me.” His thumbs pull back each fold, exposing the pink that was partially hidden. He leans town and licks from your entrance to your clit. “Mhmm fuck.” You moan out at the feeling. His tongue felt hot against your warm center, beard tickling your skin as he moved. The sound encourages him to continue. He dives down again, tongue lapping around your needy clit. The constant pressure causes your body to jerk voluntarily. Hugh brings both of his hands to hold you down at your legs, tongue still abusing the small bud. Loud moans escape your mouth as his tongue trails down to your entrance sliding in. “Oh fuck me.” You moan out. “Your pussy taste so fucking good.” He mutters against your skin. His right hand moves from its position on your hip, his middle finger sliding down to your opening. He slowly slides it in, the small stretch feels too good. He starts moving it, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves over and over again. “Fuck baby, i’m gonna cum.” You warn him. His head dips back down, tongue returning to your clit and one suck is all it takes for you to come around his finger. You let out a string of moans and curses, Hugh never letting up until your climax is over. He does one more lap around your pussy with his tongue, cleaning everything up before moving up the bed next to you.
“Been wanting to do that forever baby. Knew you’d have a perfect little pussy.” His words make you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. Even with your own orgasm washing the need out of your body, you were still turned on. The sight of your slick in Hugh’s beard and the very noticeable tent in Hugh’s jeans made it worse. You sit up and go to move. “Where are you going?” Hugh asks, sitting up on his forearms to look at you. You don't respond, instead you reach for the button of his jeans. “You don’t have to do that baby.” He assures you. “I want to.” It was the first coherent sentence you’ve been able to muster and it makes Hugh fall back into the bed. You pull his jeans and boxers off in one go, too impatient to wait. His cock springs free, red and angry. It was long, thin, and veiny- exactly as you imagined it being. It made your mouth water. He had a thick patch of pubic hair and it turned you on even more, you were such a whore for hairy men.
You sat yourself between each of his thighs, running your hands up and down them. He’s watching you as you take your right hand, wrapping it around the base of him. He sucks in a breath. You're looking him in the eyes as you lean your head down, letting your tongue swirl in slow circles around his tip. “Fuck…” You take the tip slowly into your mouth, sucking on it while your tongue still circles. Your left hand replaces the right on his dick, right hand moving down to cup his balls. “Shit..” He hisses out. “Haven’t done this in a while baby, not gonna last long at all.” He confesses but men coming fast had always been something that excited you, so you got to work. Your head dipped lower, taking more of him in your mouth while hollowing your cheeks, creating a dangerous suction on him. Your pace was steady as he moaned. “Yea baby, just like that…mmm fuck.” He was a talker and you loved it. You took him out of your mouth, moving down to his balls instead. You sucked on them as your hands worked his shaft. He was breathing rapidly. “I’m gonna cum baby….ohh fuck baby don’t stop.” You immediately moved your mouth back to his tip, sucking every drop of cum from him, not letting any go to waste. You can feel his thighs clenching next to yours. When you're confident that he was done spewing, you swallow it down happily and smile up at him.
“You’re a dream, you know that? So fucking perfect for me.” He sighs in content as you crawl up to lay on his chest. “You really believe that?” You ask. “I really believe it, y/n. Haven’t felt this way in a long time..” You didn’t want to ask him what that meant, he would tell you eventually. “You wanna stay here tonight?” You look around, seeing the time on the digital alarm clock he had on a bedside table. It read 11:30pm. “Yea, if that’s okay.” You didn’t want to inconvenience him, even if he’s the one who asked. “More than okay sweet girl.”
The two of you took a quick shower together, the main goal was to get clean so you could hit the hay. Hugh strayed from that a little bit at the sight of your boobs, which he hadn’t seen fully during the fun you had earlier. He gave them small kisses, worshiping them as you washed your hair. He gave you a shirt to sleep in and you opted to go commando, not wanting to put your dirty underwear back on- Hugh didn’t complain about this. His own pajamas being his boxers and nothing else. The two of you laid in Hugh’s bed, you cuddled on his side running your fingers through the hair on his chest. A silence fell over the room, sleep creeping its way in.
you drove far away from the noises and bright lights of the city, no direction where you were headed. it was fitting to say that this had been the worst week of your life. you decided to take a small road trip to somewhere where no one knew you, hoping it would ease your mind some. it had been 3 hours until you decided to stop into a run down bar in the dark countryside, planning on drinking your sorrows away for the night.
sitting at the table, you noticed a man wearing a blue tshirt in the corner of the building, eyeing your every move. he was broad and rugged looking, as if he just got done working outside. he had messy bleach blonde hair covered by a baseball cap, and a mustache that made your core ache. his outfit was simple, a blue tshirt with a white long sleeve under and some jeans, but you found him extremely hot.
he leaned back in the wooden chair, manspreading as he rested his bottle on his thigh, never breaking eye contact with you. you gulped, not being able to look away from the man you saw before you. for a split second, you dreamed of how it would feel to be straddling his lap, in that exact same position he sat in, running your fingers through his hair as his kissed your neck, his hands roaming all over your needy body. he looked like the kind of fuck where he’d do all the work and leave you as a puddle.
snapping out of your daze quickly, you ignored him, drinking your pain away. your ignorance of him must’ve set him off, because he began to get up, walking over towards you. he sat in the faded seat next to your chair, leaning his elbows on the counter. from walking over, you noticed how extremely tall and built he was.
he could tell you weren’t from around there, which intrigued him deeply. "dont see a lot of pretty little things like you on this side of town" he gruffed in a subtle accent, tipping his bottle. oh god, his voice was so hot.
you feigned a smile at the way he eyed your thighs spilling out of your dress, tipping your drink back too. you had a feeling you knew where he was going to take this, and part of you hoped it would end up true.
"everything okay there, angel?" his eyes shamelessly switching from your face to the softness of your tits leaking out of your dress. he took another swig, his chair creaking under his weight
"yea just.... a lot on my mind" you sighed, tracing the glass with your finger.
your brain froze when he reached his hand over, rubbing your thigh with his thick, muscular hand. he was gentle and slow, making you melt under his touch. watching his perfectly cut fingernails knead your flesh pushed you to the point of salivation. you stared at the point of contact between you two, biting your lip unconsciously.
"you know... if you have problems that you wanna forget, we can take this somewhere else and... i dont know...work something out." he suggested subtly, biting his lip at the thought of a city girl like you writhing in his bed sheets.
“I got a lot on my mind too” he whispered in your ear.
you knew he wanted to corrupt you from the moment you walked in, but was it bad that you might’ve wanted it too? you could tell by his presence and the way he carried himself that he'd be a really good fuck—perfect for dumbing young, naive girls like you out. corn-fed, country men like this aren't the soft loving type, or so you heard. you didn't know if it was the alcohol that made your pussy ache at the thought him in bed, but whatever it was, it made you succumb to his sweet talk. you would do anything to forget all the shit that happened to you this week. if that meant getting fucked out by a stranger, then so be it.
you smiled at his suggestion, nodding eagerly.
“I think that’s just what I need” you purred.
he chuckled at your response, kissing your bare shoulder.
"alright cmon baby" he soothed, resting his hand on your lower back as he guided you out of the sleazy bar.
★★
indeed you were right, he was a crazy amazing fuck, and far from the soft loving type.
"ngnn—oh my- god!!!" you cried as the strange man had you on your back, taking his thick cock as rearranged your insides. his pace made the mattress moan loudly, the headboard slamming against the wall. the pressure he had on your cervix was brain melting, his hefty body slamming down on yours with every thrust, cock massaging deep in your walls. not only was his pace insane, but his length was monstrous, stuffing it inside your tiny, sopping hole.
you recalled when you first saw him naked, and how nervous you were. you had never seen anything like it; the length, the girth, the shape. now you knew why they used they term third leg. “i don’t think it’s gonna fit” you piped anxiously as he was rolling the condom on. “don’t you worry darling—“ he threw the wrapper on the ground, his cock swinging as he walked toward you. “— because im gonna make it fit” he smiled, spreading your legs by your knees.
you could barely remember where you were or even what your name was, the booze and pleasure dumbing you to a puddle as he maneuvered himself in and out of you.
rafe's muscular body had you deliciously crushed between him and the whining mattress, creating no room for you to escape the pleasure. he let out groans seeing your writhing body, getting hornier by the second. he clenched both his hands around your wrists, pinning them above your head on the mattress as he grinded his body into you.
"making you feel good, huh precious? yea.... keep taking this cock" your eyes rolled at his words, the pleasure was almost unbearable due to his immense strength. you needed more. you were so horny and needy, grabbing at him to bring him closer. rafe reacted to your outreached arms, laying fully on you. he snaked his hands under your shoulders and behind your head, holding you in place.
“please, please kiss me-fuck” you hiccuped, desperate for some softness from him. he obliged eagerly, his tongue and lips clashing with yours in a frenzy. you moaned into his mouth, relieved at the feeling it gave you.
“mhmm.. you taste so good princess…”
knowing that rafe got immense pleasure from your body made you drool. a strong man like him becoming weak from using your sopping hole. you whined into his ear, adrenaline rushing.
“flip me, flip me…” he chuckled at your neediness, his hands did so in one fluid motion, pulling your hips up and driving you into the mattress. his dick reached deeper into your hilt, making you shriek with delight. his hands gripped your sides hard, his heavy balls smacking against the fat of swollen folds. the sounds in the room were insanely grotesque, you were in heaven.
rafe leaned forward, holding you down by your shoulders as his leverage changed. your ass was fully in the air, getting pounded like crazy.
“such a pretty little thing…. this wet cunt- fuck.” he moaned, his movements losing their composure little by little.
“god, use me- please keep using me!!” he moaned at your shrieks, eyes closed shut trying to keep himself from cumming. your insides felt like jelly as you felt him speed up. you lost all control of your body, squirting as his cock had you twitched into the mattress. rafe didn’t left up, chasing his own high as he pleased, fucking you even harder.
“good girl, stay right there f’me, lemme finish this fucking pussy” he smacked your ass hard, holding you in place. his length was covered in your juices, to which he reached down and collected some on his fingers, licking them feverishly to taste all of you. he moaned in delight, eyes closed as he savored the taste of your pussy.
growls bellowed from his throat as he came inside you, pulsating in your swollen walls. he leaned his forehead on your back, perspiring with wet strands of hair sticking to the wet skin. rafe breathed heavily before standing up, smacking your ass. you laid there almost dead as you watched him crawl to the side of the bed, retrieving a cigarette from the bedside table.
“cmere sweetheart” he laid, opening his arm up for you to lay on his bare chest. the rest of the night, you two passed the cigarette back and forth, talking about the nonsense of life. he told you if you ever came back to visit him, he’d be here with open arms. not knowing when you’d be back, rafe begged you to sleep over, holding you close in the night until morning came.
“don’t ever forget about me on this side of town, okay angel? need you to come and visit me every once in a while” he coo’ed.
“okay rafey” you purred, nuzzling into his side before falling asleep.
unfortunately i’m too much of a sub to be into pegging BUT what if you just wanted rafe to feel so good like he makes you feel so you try to convince him to wear a butt plug while he fucks you 🙈 he’d make you choke on his cock while he lubed the plug and gently sink it into himself but soon he’s cumming harder than he ever had before and only then letting you hold him while he came down from his high now determined to fuck you and make you cum faster than him next time 🙂↕️
i’m also far too much of a sub so I get it 😭 this is my first time writing something like this + pls keep in mind this is merely a thought i was sent
warnings: face fucking, mention + use of butt plug, 18+ mdni
when you first brought it up to rafe, he was in disbelief, "you want me to wear what?".
you'd be pouting at him, batting your lashes as you used the nickname you knew he loved hearing, "c'mon rafey, please, wanna make you feel good".
"yeah? could make me feel good by taking my cock down that pretty throat" he snickered, hand threading through your hair, pulling your head back, the tip of his cock rubbing against your plump lips before shoving his length into your warm, wet mouth.
his hand gripped the back of your head, pushing your head further down, pulling gags from you. your hands rested on his thighs, holding on as he thrust harshly up into your mouth as your drool coated his dick, running down to his balls.
your gags filled his room, tears welling in your eyes as you struggled to breathe through your nose, "shit, you look so good chokin' on my cock...just like that" rafe groaned.
his hips snap up against your face, your nose hitting against his happy trail with every thrust. curses leave his mouth when your throat constricts around him, "fuck baby".
his free hand pushing his bangs out of his face, panting lightly as he feels his orgasm getting closer.
he couldn't help but let his mind wander, curiosity getting the best of him as he stared at the object lying near him on the edge of his bed, your words "wanna make you feel good" replaying like a broken record in his head.
rafe's hand had a mind of its own, reaching for the plug and the bottle of lube. his thumb pushing the lid of the bottle up, squirting the lube onto his palm before coating the entirety of the plug.
he lifts his hips, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he guides the plug toward his puckered hole. the lube allows him to slowly push the plug further, stretching himself and letting out a small groan.
his balls tighten at the combination of you choking on his cock and the top of the plug hitting a spot deep inside him.
“oh fuck…” rafe moans, jaw slacking, his body tingling at the sensation and his cock pulses in your mouth. his thighs trembling against your palms and his vision clouding as his eyes roll to the back of his skull.
“fuck, ‘m gonna cum, baby” your pussy throbbing at his little whimper and you could feel his body shaking as he his orgasm hits him hard, thick ropes of cum spilling down your throat.
his cock slips out of your mouth as he pulls you off, pulling you onto his lap, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he catches his breath, “shit, think that was the hardest I’ve ever came” he chuckles softly.
“told you it’d make you feel good” you murmur, running your hand through his hair soothingly, “guess I should listen to you more often, huh?”.
“now it’s my turn to make you feel good, gonna have you screaming and crying f’me by the time ‘m done with you”.
hi! i adore everything you write and i just wanted to request dbf!logan who is obsessed with getting you to squirt. maybe you lied once to impress him or something and he calls your bluff, now making it his mission to make you actually do it. <3
“Seems like you lied, baby doll,” Logan says, watching you squirm on his bed, your little hands fisting desperately at the bedsheet, tears streaming down your eyes as you’ve came nearly three times tonight already. “Did you lie to me?”
Your bottom lips juts out as you pout at him, whining and whimpering an apology. “Just wanted to-uh-wanted to-” You can’t reach the end of your sentence as he is relentlessly pumping two thick fingers in and out of you, curling into your sweet spot to get you to cry more.
“Wanted to impress me?” He smirked and you nodded, your head rolled back as his lips circled around your puffy, aching clit. “You don’t have to lie to me, baby. I’m already so impressed by how much you can take from me.” He coos and you sob. His lips circle around your clit as he keeps his fingers shoved deep inside you, petting sweetly at the spot that makes your lower belly tense with pleasure. You push weakly on his shoulders, wanting him to stop, but you’re unable to say anything, all the thoughts fucked out of your head. “Now I don’t take kindly to liars, so you owe me one good squirt before we finish up for the night.”
His fingers slip out of you and you whine as the head of his cock teasingly rubs against your overstimulated clit. Logan watches hungrily as you shake violently from that feeling alone and he cruely drives himself deep inside you, pulling a hoarse cry from you. “Logan, please, I can’t anymore.” You sobbed as he started pumping into you mercilessly, his thumb rubbing circles on your abused clit as you writhed underneath him.
“You shouldn’t have lied to me, baby doll.” Logan grunts, his large hand wraps gently around your throat to keep you in place as he fucks you with the sole purpose of ruining you. His thumb doesn’t let up on the pressure and you can feel the tension becoming too much to handle, too intense to control. “C’mon, baby, I intend to make an honest woman out of you.” He smirks as your tears fall freely and you’re pulling the sheets as your orgasm takes over the autonomy of your body. You feel a warmth gush onto your thighs as he finally gets you to squirt and Logan growls in approval, fucking deep into you as you drench him. His hands move to grip tightly onto the pillow behind your head and he plows hard into you, chasing his own release while you lay weakly underneath the weight of his body. Your arms wrap around him as you cry into his chest and you feel his muscles spasming, his grunts choked as he fills you to the brim with his load.
“Logan,” You whisper in a weak voice, your throat dry from the crying and the yelling of his name. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
Logan chuckles as he kisses your head, carefully resting over you as he caressed your sweaty hair out of your face. “I forgive you, baby doll. I think you more than made up for it.”