hi! i love your writing so much omg!! could you do another smut with charles?? like duh charles is a top but he can be a super whiny bottom when the reader (either gf or wife, you pick!) plays with his nipples? he’s soo down bad and she’s all smug about it
Undone
Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!reader
Synopsis: A whiney, desperate and needy Charles completely falls apart after his girlfriend discovers his sensitive nipples.
Warning: smut, dirty talk, nipple play, little bit sub!charles
Moonlight Radio: hi! ty - this was a fun one to write, i hope u like it!
Charles had no idea what was coming-literally-and that made it even better. He was sprawled on the bed, that confident smirk playing at his lips as you climbed over him, his hands already reaching for your hips with that familiar possessiveness.
He always took control, always guided you beneath him with those strong hands and that commanding presence that made your knees weak.
But not tonight.
"Mon coeur," he murmured, trying to flip your positions, "let me-"
"No." You pressed your palm flat against his chest, pushing him back down. His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his handsome face. "Tonight, I'm in charge."
"Oh?" That smirk deepened, like he thought this was cute. Adorable. Like you were playing at something you couldn't maintain. "Is that right?"
"That's right." You straddled his hips properly, feeling his cock already hard and pressing against you through his boxers. You rolled your hips slowly, deliberately, watching his breath catch. "You're going to lie there and take what I give you."
"We'll see about that," he said, but his voice had already gone a little rough around the edges.
You leaned down, letting your hair curtain around both your faces, and kissed him slowly, deeply, until he groaned into your mouth and his hands tightened on your waist. Then you sat back up, reaching for the hem of your shirt.
Charles watched, transfixed, as you pulled it over your head and tossed it aside. No bra-you'd planned that too. His eyes went dark with want, and you felt his cock twitch beneath you.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Come here-“
"Uh-uh." You caught his wrists as he reached for you, pinning them briefly to the bed beside his head before releasing them with a warning look. "Hands to yourself unless I say otherwise."
He laughed, but it sounded strained. "You're really doing this?"
"I really am." You hooked your fingers in your panties and slid them down your legs, kicking them off. Then you turned your attention to his boxers, palming his erection through the fabric. He hissed, hips jerking up involuntarily. "And you're going to love every second of it."
"Confident," he managed, but you could hear his breathing getting heavier.
You freed his cock, wrapping your hand around the thick length of him, and he groaned low in his throat. God, you loved that sound. Loved the way his abs tensed, the way his hands fisted in the sheets like he was already fighting the urge to grab you.
"I am confident," you agreed, stroking him slowly, root to tip. "Because I know something you don't know."
"Yeah? What's that?"
You leaned down again, letting your breasts brush against his bare chest, and whispered against his ear: "I know exactly how to make you fall apart."
Before he could respond, you positioned yourself over him and sank down in one smooth motion, taking him fully inside you. You both moaned-you at the perfect stretch and fullness, him at the tight, wet heat enveloping his cock.
"Oh fuck," Charles gasped, and his hands flew to your hips despite your earlier warning. "Bébé, you feel so-“
"Hands off." You grabbed his wrists again, more firmly this time, and placed them on the pillow above his head. "I mean it, Charlie. Keep them there."
He looked up at you, pupils blown wide, chest heaving. For a moment you thought he might argue, might flip you over and take back control like he always did. But then he nodded, just slightly, and kept his hands where you'd put them.
Good boy, you thought but didn't say. Not yet.
You started to move, rolling your hips in slow, deep circles that had him groaning with every motion. You could feel every inch of him inside you, the angle letting him hit deep, and fuck, it felt incredible. But you kept your pace measured, controlled, watching his face as pleasure tightened his features.
"You look so good like this," you told him, placing your hands on his chest for leverage. "Underneath me, all desperate and needy."
"I'm not-“ he started to protest, but you interrupted him by dragging your nails lightly down his chest, and his words dissolved into a moan.
That's when you discovered it.
Your fingers had been trailing idly across his pecs when your thumbs brushed over his nipples-just a ghost of a touch, really-and Charles made a sound you'd never heard from him before. A high, desperate whimper that went straight to your core.
You froze. Looked down at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open, his whole body tense.
"Oh my god," you breathed, realization dawning. "Charles... are your nipples sensitive?"
His eyes snapped open, and even in the dim light you could see the flush spreading across his cheeks. "Don't-“
You circled your thumbs over the small buds again, deliberately this time, and he actually whined. His hips bucked up involuntarily, driving his cock deeper into you, and his hands twisted in the pillow above his head.
"Holy shit," you said, grinning wickedly. "They are. You've been holding out on me."
"Please," he gasped, and you weren't sure if he was begging you to stop or keep going.
You decided to find out.
You started riding him again, but this time you kept your hands on his chest, thumbs working his nipples in slow circles. Charles's reaction was immediate and devastating. He threw his head back, a broken moan tearing from his throat, his whole body arching up into your touch.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh-“ The words spilled out of him, desperate and incoherent. "Mon coeur, I can't-it's too much-“
"Too much?" You pinched lightly, and he actually cried out. "But you're taking it so well."
"Please," he whimpered, and god, that sound. You'd never heard Charles whimper before. He was always so controlled, so dominant, so in charge. But now he was falling apart beneath you, completely undone by your touch. "Please, I need-“
"What do you need bébé?" You rolled your hips harder, faster, still working his nipples mercilessly. "Tell me."
"I don't-fuck-I don't know," he gasped. His hands had moved from the pillow to fist in the sheets, knuckles white with tension. "Don't stop, please don't stop, it feels so fucking good-“
You'd never seen him like this. Never heard him beg. The power of it went straight to your head, made you feel invincible. You leaned forward, changing the angle so he hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, and took one of his nipples between your fingers, rolling and pinching while your other hand braced against his chest.
Charles made a sound that was almost a sob. "Oh god, oh god, bébé please—"
"Look at you," you purred, breathless yourself now from the pleasure building in your core. "So desperate. So needy. Where's all that control now, hmm?"
"Gone," he admitted, voice breaking. "Putain, you've ruined me, I can't-I can't think-“
"Good." You increased your pace, riding him harder, the sound of skin against skin filling the room along with his desperate whimpers and moans. "Don't think. Just feel."
You switched your attention to his other nipple, and Charles actually thrashed beneath you, his hips snapping up to meet yours with bruising force. "I'm gonna-fuck, I'm already so close, how are you doing this to me-“
"Because you love it," you said, smug satisfaction dripping from every word. "You love being underneath me. Love having me in control. Love being so desperate you can barely speak."
"Yes," he gasped, and the admission seemed to cost him. "Yes, fuck, yes-“
You could feel your own orgasm building, that familiar tension coiling tight in your belly. But you wanted to push him further first, wanted to see him completely shatter.
You leaned down, still riding him, and sealed your mouth over one of his nipples while your fingers worked the other. Charles's reaction was explosive. He shouted your name, his whole body going rigid, his cock pulsing inside you.
"Not yet," you commanded, pulling back. "Don't you dare come yet."
"I can't-“ He was trembling now, sweat beading on his forehead, every muscle taut with the effort of holding back. "Mon amour, please, I can't hold it-“
"Yes, you can." You sat up straight again, hands returning to his chest, thumbs circling his oversensitive nipples while you ground down on him. "You're going to wait for me."
The sound he made was absolutely wrecked. "Please, please, I need to cum, please let me come-“
God, you loved him like this. Loved the power, the control, the way he was completely at your mercy. Your own pleasure was building to a crescendo, your thighs burning with effort but you didn't care, you were so close-
"Touch yourself," Charles begged suddenly, desperately. "Please, mon coeur, I need to see you cum, I need-“
You took pity on him. Your hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, and the added stimulation made you moan. You were so close, right on the edge-
"That's it," Charles gasped, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. "Fuck, you look so perfect, so beautiful, please-“
You pinched his nipple hard, and that was all it took. Charles came with a broken cry, his whole body convulsing beneath you, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you. The feeling of him losing control, the desperate sounds falling from his lips, the way his hands finally broke free and grabbed your hips with bruising force-it sent you over the edge right after him.
Your orgasm crashed through you, intense and overwhelming, and you collapsed forward onto his chest as waves of pleasure rolled through your body. Charles wrapped his arms around you immediately, holding you close while you both trembled and gasped for breath.
For a long moment, neither of you could speak. You could feel his heart hammering against your cheek, could feel the aftershocks still running through his body.
"Holy fuck," he finally managed, voice hoarse. "What the hell was that?"
You lifted your head to look at him, unable to keep the smug smile off your face. "That was me, in charge."
He laughed breathlessly, one hand coming up to cup your face. "I've never-I didn't know I could-" He shook his head, seeming genuinely stunned. "You completely destroyed me."
"I know." You kissed him softly, sweetly, a contrast to the intensity of what had just happened. "You were so good for me. So desperate and whiny and perfect."
He groaned, but you could see the pleased flush on his cheeks. "I can't believe I begged like that."
"I can't believe you've been hiding those sensitive nipples from me." You traced one lightly, and he shuddered. "We're definitely exploring that more."
"We're exploring you on top more," he countered, pulling you closer. "If that's what it does to us."
You grinned against his shoulder. "Deal."
You'd definitely be taking charge again. Soon. Very soon.
But for now, you were content to lie there in his arms, both of you thoroughly satisfied and completely undone.
Summary: Robb fulfills his promise to Walder Frey and marries one of his daughters for passage through the Green Fork, but marriage isn't exactly what you thought it would be.
**Minors and ageless blogs do not interact. 18+ only**
This certainly was hell. Months of silence from your husband had you nearing deliria. You hadn’t even seen him since your wedding night. When you’d woken up, sore and groggy, Robb was already gone. You’d heard from the maid that changed the blood specked sheets that he’d already passed through the Green Fork with his men. You had traveled with Catelyn back to Winterfell. It had been a long journey, but Catelyn, surprisingly, warmed up to you. You had learned from her that this war, for Robb, was about getting his sisters back and avenging his father. You had also learned about the healer, Talisa, and how she had taken the initiative in offering medical care to the injured. It was no wonder why Robb had fallen in love with her. She was a beautiful saint.
A month later Robb and his men marched solemnly through the gates of Winterfell, injured. You had tried to run down to him, but Talisa had made it there before you could even move. The looks they exchanged, the touches they shared made you physically sick. The maester and maids thought you were with child, but Catelyn knew. She’d given you a look that seemed to say she knew what you were feeling. Later that night, when your husband hadn’t gone to visit you, she’d gone in his stead. Catelyn had shared the betrayal she’d been subjected to from her late husband, how he’d asked her to raise his love child. You cried in her arms that night and woke up alone. You’d woken up alone every night since. The only moments you shared with Robb were when you passed by him in the halls. He wouldn’t even look at you.
Rumors were spreading through the castle that Robb was hovering over Talisa, helping her with the injured. The hovering you believed. The helping part, not so much. He had said he was a man of honor, but with every day that passed you doubted that more and more. Despite the rumors that you were with child, Robb hadn’t visited you in the month he’d returned. You were starting to believe that he’d never visit you. Why would he, if he was with his love?
You sniffled into your wet pillow. You’d been in bed since you woke up, crying. A maid had entered the room, but you quickly sent her out with a lie that you weren’t feeling well. Moments later a bowl of porridge was brought to you and left on your vanity. You stared at the bowl now, stomach twisting. You had made a terrible mistake offering yourself to marriage. The Twins seemed more like home than Winterfell – you’d much prefer bullying than silence. Your chest tightened.
A soft creak echoed through the barren room as the door opened. Quiet footsteps entered the room, then stopped by the side of the bed. You huffed, keeping your back to them.
“I told you I’m not feeling well,” you grumbled. “Please leave.”
“I thought you’d be more happy to see your husband.”
Your back stiffened at the sound of Robb’s voice. He was here, alone in your room after months of silence. You pushed yourself onto a hand, turning to face him. The thick blanket fell to your waist to reveal your thin night gown. He barely noticed.
Robb gave you a sheepish smile. “Are you alright? I heard…the news.”
Your brows knit together, your lips parted in disbelief. “Get out.”
Robb stood there, shock and confusion knitting his brows together. He shook his head as if to clear it. “What..?”
“Get. Out.” you repeated. “You do not get to waltz around with your lover while your wife is waiting for you. You’ve been here for a month, Robb, and now you decide to visit me? Get. Out.”
Shame dawned on Robb’s face. “I didn’t know how to approach you after they told me about the child,” he admitted, shoulders slumped. He looked smaller than before, like the admission had weighed on him.
“There never was a child,” you responded. Tears stung your eyes now. “Seeing you with your lover makes me ill. You lied to me.” With what strength you could muster, you chucked your pillow at his face. “Get out!”
The pillow bounced off of Robb’s face and fell to the floor with a soft thump. He looked at you, his expression softening. Instead of leaving, he did the exact opposite. He climbed onto the bed slowly, extending a hand to cup your face. His thumb swiped away something wet on your cheek. When had you started crying again?
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should’ve come to see you sooner.” His thumb swiped at another tear. “I can assure you, I have no lover. I’ve been helping Talisa with the wounded, but I’ve been in council the rest of the time.”
You sniffled. “I do not believe you.” You pulled his hand away. “I saw the way you looked at each other when you arrived.”
Robb took a deep breath. He unbuckled the cloak he wore and draped it over the vanity’s chair. “What must I do for you to believe me?” He made to reach for you again, but kept his hands to himself.
You sat up, scooting backwards until your back hit the bed’s headboard. You looked at him, at his freshly cut hair and scruffy beard, at his icy blue eyes that bore holes into yours. You wanted to tell him to kick Talisa out, to ban her from the castle – the town. The sincerity in his features made you think twice. No one could control who they fell in love with, so you shouldn’t blame Robb.
“Stay with me tonight,” you said quietly.
Robb gave a lazy smile. “Alright. Would you like to stay here, or in my chambers?”
You blinked. You hadn’t thought he’d agree so quickly – or at all. “You’d be more comfortable in your chambers…” you trailed off. You looked at your barren room. The planeness wasn’t suitable for a King in the North. You only had a bed and vanity. Technically, the room wasn’t suitable for you as Robb’s wife, but you hadn’t really cared. Truthfully, you hadn’t cared about much since arriving in Winterfell.
Robb nodded, pushing himself off the bed. He extended a hand towards you. Flashbacks of your wedding night flooded your mind, of almost the same scenario. A warm, shaky hand helping you up, icy blue eyes looking into your soul. Your cheeks heated, but you took his hand without hesitation.
“I’m only in a nightgown, I need to get dressed,” you said, moving towards your still unpacked chest. You didn’t own many dresses, but that didn’t mean you had to walk around in your sleepwear.
“There’s no need,” Robb responded. You felt heavy fabric drape over your shoulders and fur tickle your neck.
You didn’t have a chance to look at what Robb had covered you with, though you were sure it was his cloak. Robb’s bent towards you, placing an arm under your knees and scooping you up. You let out a surprised yelp, clawing at Robb’s cloak to cover your modesty. In a few swift movements, Robb was walking out of your room and down the hall. Every turn you encountered shocked staff who bowed then walked away fast. You tried to cover your face with Robb’s cloak, but you were curious what the rest of Winterfell looked like. You hadn’t done much exploring upon your arrival, and after witnessing Robb with Talisa in the courtyard, you’d stayed confined to your bed chamber.
Robb made a turn, then another one until he approached a large door. The door was similar to your own, but different, more expensive looking. He opened the door with ease, stepping inside and closing the door in a swift movement. He placed you down gently, your feet landing on the cold floor. Robb’s room was larger than yours and far more decorated. A four poster bed lay against a wall in the middle with two end tables on either side. A small sofa sat in front of a large fireplace with a sturdy coffee table in between. A large plush fur rug was placed under the bed and a smaller matching rug was placed under the sofa. There weren’t many decorations adorning the walls or furniture, save for a stack of books next to the coffee table and on one of the nightstands. You stepped towards the nearest stack of books and grabbed the first from the top. The words as you leafed through the pages were familiar, from a fairytale you’d grown up reading.
“Do you enjoy reading?” you asked, grabbing the next book and leafing through the pages. Another fairytale.
Robb hummed in response. He grabbed the book from his nightstand and held it out for you. “This one is my favorite,” he said with a sheepish smile.
You took the book and smiled. You knew this story very well. “When I was younger, my brothers would take my things and ruin them. They’d rip my dolls apart and tear pages out of my books. This copy was the only one I was able to save.” You smiled to yourself, running your fingers over the worn edges. “I was never allowed to buy more books, so I could only reread this one until it practically disintegrated.”
Robb smiled, one that reached his eyes and your heart flipped in your stomach. “You are more than welcome to read from my personal collection,” he said. “I promise, no one will tear them to shreds.”
You turned to place the books back where they belonged and giggled. Your hands were shaking…why? You’d been alone with Robb before, had shared a bed with him – once. You were far from being familiar, but by the gods, this was your husband. You chewed on the inside of your lip. Husband. Your stomach flipped again. What in the hells was this feeling and why was it leaving you incapacitated?
“Do you have any other interests?” you asked, running your fingers along the spines of the books.
“I haven’t had the time for any interests as of late, but my interest is to be with my family,” Robb responded. He moved to the fireplace, tossing some wood inside. He ignited a fire, shoving around some of the wood with a poker.
You felt the heat immediately, but taking off the cloak had you feeling too self conscious. Too exposed. Underneath your nightgown was a thin, white cotton fabric that left very little to the imagination. While you had shared a bed with Robb, your clothes hadn’t been fully removed. Your cheeks burned as images from your wedding night flooded your mind. Robb hadn’t even fully disrobbed. He’d taken everything off save for his undergarment, and when he’d inserted himself in you, he’d only pushed it down to his thighs. He wouldn’t let you disrobe completely, either. Your wedding gown was removed, but your chemise stayed on the whole time and had been hiked up to your thighs for the consummation. Robb hadn’t looked at you, had just pushed himself inside and moved. He had been gentle and loving in his own way, but he was just fulfilling a duty.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt Robb tugging off the cloak from behind you. You had been so lost in your thoughts – in your memory – that you hadn’t noticed Robb comment on your flushed face and attribute it to the heat. He discarded the cloak on the sofa, leaving you feeling exposed. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest.
You watched as Robb undid the buttons on his coat, revealing a thin white shirt underneath. He removed that, too, discarding everything on top of the cloak on the sofa. He turned to you with that lazy smile.
“I know it’s the middle of the day still, but I’d like us to spend more time together. Afterall, I made a promise that we’d get to know one another.” Robb shoved his clothes to the far end of the sofa and sat on the opposite end. He gave a small wave. “Come here.”
You obliged, albeit, with timidness. You sat next to Robb on the sofa, stiffer than a rod, arms still over your chest. Robb gently wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you back into his chest. You let him guide your placement, shifting your body to mold with his on the sofa.
“Tell me what it was like to grow up with Walder Frey as your father,” Robb said. His hand idly stroked along the length of your arm.
You told him stories of your childhood, of what it was like to grow up with your father. Or, rather, without your father. You lived in the same place, but he hated his children and stayed far away from them until they were old enough to tolerate. You exchanged stories of your childhood, both the good and bad. Over the hours of stories, you allowed yourself to relax, to become comfortable in Robb’s arms. Your arms migrated from your chest, with one arm draped lazily over your stomach and the other combing your fingers through Robb’s curls. The moment felt intimate, far more than your wedding night. His laugh did things to your body you didn’t even know were possible. After your stomach flipped for the umpteenth time, you had an inkling of what could be the cause.
Love.
How you had fallen in love with a man you’d only seen twice, including today, you had no idea. You even hesitated to call it that, but the way his smile made your insides flutter was confirmation. You were in love with Robb Stark. But he was in love with someone else. Someone you could never compare to, someone who had taken all of Robb’s attention since you’d known him.
You grew quiet with the realization, your fingers absentmindedly combing through his hair. Robb had been tracing swirls on your stomach, the fabric of your nightgown bunching right above your knees.
“Is everything alright?” Robb asked, breath brushing against the shell of your ear and voice down an octave. The husky tone sent a shiver up your spine.
You could only nod and shift your position slightly. Robb stilled underneath you, his hand flattening on your stomach.
“Are you sure?” he questioned.
You pushed yourself into a seated position, twisting your back slightly to look him in the face. “Do you think we’d learn to love each other? Like in your fairytales?” you said finally. “Like your parents?”
Robb studied your face, eyes dipping briefly down your chest and to where his hand still lay on your stomach – to the ring on his finger. “I think so,” he admitted. “If you had asked me on our wedding day, I would have said no. But spending time with you today has started to change my mind.”
You nodded, bringing a leg to drape over Robb’s thigh. Now fully facing him, you realized the proximity of your bodies. Your fingers traced over his sternum, nail gliding through the soft, thin curls on his chest. “I’ve enjoyed today,” you said softly. “Thank you.”
Robb’s chuckle rumbled through his chest, sending vibrations through your finger. “Why are you thanking me?”
You shifted onto his lap, your other leg moving to drape over his other thigh so that you were straddling him. You felt a bulge beneath you, resting against your bottom. Robb’s hands rest on either hip and the blues of his eyes became stormy.
“You took time away from your council to spend with your wife – a nobody in the grand scheme of things.”
Robb shook his head. “You’re not a nobody. You’re my wife and the mother to my future children.”
Your stomach did that flip again, your cheeks heating. “All the same, thank you for taking the time to be with me.” You chewed on the inside of your lip and shifted again. Whatever was underneath you was making it a bit uncomfortable to stay in the same position. “And staying with me tonight.”
Robb’s eyes shut tightly and he loosed a breath. “It doesn’t just have to be tonight. We can ask the staff to move your things in here.”
You shifted again, trying to find your way around the lump beneath you. “I wouldn’t want to impose–”
“For the love of the gods, stop moving,” Robb breathed, pressing his fingers into your hips.
You stilled, brows knitting together. “Are you okay?”
Robb nodded. When his eyes opened, they were darker than you’d ever seen them. “You wiggling on my lap…you’re rubbing against me.”
You tilt your head to the side. You didn’t see anything wrong with that, so why did Robb look like he was in pain? You tried to think on it – clearly he wasn’t going to tell you outright. You noted the tinge of pink on his cheeks and his deep breathing. You pondered over the thought that that maybe he wasn’t in pain, but somehow was the opposite. Despite the tight grip on your hips, you moved them again, this time down against his lap. The soft moan that came from his lips was enough confirmation – he wasn’t in pain at all. And the sound, you’d heard something similar come from him during your wedding night when he was buried in you. You moved again, bracing yourself with your hands against his chest.
“Please,” he whimpered. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Your stomach tightened at the whimper, at the way his eyes darkened and looked up at you with hooded lids. You could feel your heartbeat thump in your chest, thump in your lower abdomen. “I think I do,” you breathed, moving your hips again.
Robb groaned loudly, eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “Don’t start something you cannot finish,” he said darkly, hands pushing you down harder against him.
The lump beneath you twitched and pulsed against your bottom. You scoot back just a fraction, enough so the large bump was against the ache between your legs. You were breathing deeply now, too, excitement coursing through your veins.
“I can finish,” you said between breaths. Your nails scratched lightly on Robb’s chest as your fingers flexed.
Robb looked at you with skepticism, watched you look down at him with a gaze drunken and weighed down by lust. He swallowed hard and moved a hand from your waist. Slowly and a bit unsure, he moved his hand beneath your night gown and up your thigh. Your heart beat harder against your chest as his fingers danced along your inner thigh, then up, up until they separated your slick folds. His thumb found purchase on the small bud between your legs and added a slight pressure. The sound that came from your lips shocked you, heat instantly creeping up your neck to your face. Robb gave you a crooked grin, then moved his thumb in tight circles.
A string of curses slipped through, earning a chuckle from your husband. Yes, your husband, who was touching you so intimately – and looking at you. His gaze felt heavy against your skin, but in the best way possible. The whimpers and moans grew louder and so did the pressure in your abdomen. Your stomach tightened, your legs tightened, and the feeling suddenly became too much to bear. You gripped Robb’s wrist tightly as another moan pushed through you. His free hand moved to your thigh, pushing your legs to open more.
“Relax, baby,” he breathed, thumb circling faster. “You’re doing such a good job.”
He shoved your nightgown further up, fully exposing your sopping cunt. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to listen and relax your limbs. Two fingers pushed into you slowly, then curled, You cried out loudly and swore you could see the night sky as the fingers curled and uncurled, thumb circled and circled. Your abdomen tightened, then fluttered as you went over your climax. Your body shook against Robb’s hand, squeezed his fingers still inside you. You wanted more – needed more.
“Robb,” you whimpered, looking down at him through half lidded eyes. “Give me more–please–”
Robb chuckled in response, removing his fingers out and away from you. A guttural whine scratched your throat. That wasn’t what you asked for, you needed more. You ground your hips against Robb’s bulge, rocking for more friction. The action only prompted another chuckle from Robb, who too slowly pulled your tightgown over your head. His eyes drank you in, roaming over your peaked breasts to your seeping cunt. He raised his hips, shoving his trousers and garments down his thighs in one fluid movement. His cock rocked back on his stomach, the tip glistening. Instinctively, your hand wrapped around his girth, emanating a groan from your husband. You hadn’t seen his cock on your wedding night, had only felt it inside you. It had felt big then, but by the gods it looked so much bigger. Your mouth dried at the size, your mind swarming – how was he going to fit inside you? Your thumb stroked the pink tip, smearing the clear liquid around. Robb shivered in return, jaw going slack.
“Don’t worry, it’ll fit,” Robb said. “Lift your hips, baby.”
You obeyed, letting Robb guide you to hover over his thick cock. You swallowed hard as he lowered your hips, and when his tip started to stretch your entrance, breathed in sharply. It hadn’t felt like this on your wedding night. He felt bigger, thicker – more. You breathed through a loud moan, lowering yourself fully until you were sitting on his lap again. Gods, you could feel him in your stomach – and it felt so good. You rocked your hips, the tip of his cock brushing inside you.
Your fingers dug into Robb’s shoulders as you rocked faster against him. His moans merged with your own, until the room echoed with the sounds of your pleasures. His hands moved to your ass, bringing you up and down on his cock. He made a frustrated sound, and in an instant you found yourself on your back with Robb buried deeply inside you. He moved in and out in fast movements, pulling himself out to the tip, then in until his hilt. Your moans morphed into cries, practically screams as he pushed himself deeper and harder into you. His balls smacked against your cunt with a lewd, wet noise over, and over, and over again until your hearing turned fuzzy. That familiar tightening in your abdomen came back, coiling and coiling with every thrust.
Then, Robb’s thumb found its way back to the sensitive spot between your legs and you saw the heavens. A strangled scream intertwined with a moan escaped from your lips and bounced off the stone walls. Robb pushed into you as your climax rolled through you, until your legs were shaking and finally, he pressed hard against you. Buried to the hilt and filling you deeply, you felt his cock twitch inside you, felt his seed spill inside you.
Your ears were ringing, your head was fuzzy, and your legs were numb. Your chest rose and fell harshly as you tried to calm your body. Robb was no better above you. His sweat coated forehead rest against yours, his breath fanning over your mouth. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took, but he stayed buried inside you.
“You did such a good job, baby,” Robb breathed. “You took me so well.”
You smiled, your cheeks warming. You placed your hands on the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Your lips met his in a sloppy, breathy kiss. His lips moved against yours, a hand cupping your cheek. He kissed you with fever, with a sort of desperation you didn’t expect.
When he pulled away, a smile graced his features. “I’ll be asking the staff to move your things first thing tomorrow morning,” he said. He pushed off of you, sliding his cock out and helping you up. “But first, a bath.”
You nodded in agreement, holding his arm tightly to help you remain steady. A few steps and Robb turned toward you. Without warning, he cupped your face and kissed you once more. His touch was gentle, kind. The warmth that bloomed in your chest chased any thoughts of hell away. Maybe you were in it, maybe it was still yet to come.
SEEING LOGAN WORK ON CARS MAKES YOU WANT TO RIDE SOMETHING ELSE...
𓏲⋆ CONTENT ⋮ unprotected p in v, semi-public sex (?), dry humping kinda/grinding, oral (f!receiving) & oral over clothing, reader’s first time on top
Logan’s legs were hanging out from under a car as you made your way into the garage, the dull sound of classic rock coming from his speaker on the other side of the room.
He was humming while he worked and tapping his foot along to the music. It echoed quietly through the room.
“Logan?” you called out softly, watching his figure freeze before sliding out. He was looking up at you with a certain excitement reserved only for when he was with you.
A toothy grin spread across his face, followed by his almost raspy voice, “Hey, baby. What’re you doing here?”
“Jus’ came to say hi. I missed you,” you muttered, too distracted by his flexed muscles to give him a better answer. Your gaze dragged down his body, only meeting his eyes again when you realized he wasn’t responding.
He had a look on his face, no doubt knowing exactly what you were thinking. His voice had a heat to it when he asked, “Is that right?”
You hummed, nibbling on your bottom lip when you see his eyes drag over your body. “Well I missed you too. C’mere,” his fingers motioned for you to come closer.
You found yourself standing over him, legs on either side of his body. His palms rested on your calves, rubbing up and down soothingly. “Sit. Nobody’s coming in.”
“But—Okay.” You immediately felt him under you as you sat, already sporting a semi. He leaned up, one hand coming to hold your face as he smashed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss.
The kiss was all consuming. John Logan was all you could feel, taste, smell—he smelt like his body wash and old, rusted metal.
You moaned against him as his teeth dragged across your bottom lip, lightly nibbling. Your hips rocked against his instinctually, his tented pants nudging your throbbing clit.
Falling forward against him, he deepened the kiss as his fingers slid up your legs tantalizingly slow.
When he pulled back, your denim skirt was already rolling up your hips, your soaked lace panties on display to him. One of his fingers gently brushed up your cunt, applying only enough pressure against your sensitive clit to tease you.
“Logan,” you pouted, your hips twitching forward on their own, seeking more contact. “Please.”
Logan smirked under you, his hands coming to lift you off him. He slid further down on his cart, never taking his hands off you, and lined his face up to your pussy.
You moaned when his warm tongue dragged across you, his lips surrounding your clit as he ate you out through your panties.
After a long moment he lifted you again, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side. His tongue met your bare folds, licking a stripe up slowly until he found your clit again.
As he ate you out, your hands pulled at his hair and his hips instinctively rolled against the zipper of his jeans. Two of his long fingers slid their way inside, pumping in and out of you slowly.
The two completely different paces and feelings was throwing you off, but felt incredible.
“Taste so good, baby,” he groaned against you. “Could do this for hours if you let me.”
You could feel your climax building, your knees weak and your hips twitchy. Logan could feel it too. “C’mon, come for me,” he cooed, his hot breath fanning over your cunt as he talked you through it. “I know you can, mhm. That’s my girl.”
You rode his face as he continued lapping at you, only stopping when you had enough strength to hold yourself up and away from his unrelenting tongue.
“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” he breathed as you sat back on his crotch. “I fucking love you.”
A shy smile graced your face as he leaned up to give you a soft kiss. A thank you kiss. A ‘stop worrying’ kiss because he could see the anxious tension still in your shoulders and he knew you all too well.
Whispering, “I love you, too,” against his lips, your hands reached back to fumble with his button and zipper. When you got them undone, Logan sat you both up enough to take pull his pants and boxers down to his feet.
“Logan,” you hummed while pulling off your panties before they could get completely ruined.
“Yeah, pretty?”
“I’ve never... Uh... Y’know...” you mumbled, confused when you saw Logan’s eyebrows scrunch while a cheeky smirk spread across his face.
“We’ve had sex,” his tone was a mix between a question and a statement. You felt embarrassment run through your entire body as you winced.
“No, I know,” you laughed awkwardly. “I mean, like, I’veneverbeenontopbefore.”
Logan’s face went from confused to confident in seconds.
“That’s alright,” his hands slowly dragged from your knees to your upper thighs, stopping just short of where his mouth was only a minute ago. “I’ll do all the work, yeah? Jus’ don’t wanna get you all dirty in here.”
Mumbled an, “Okay,” you visibly relaxed a bit.
Logan reached down, pumping his thick cock a few times before lining it up to your cunt. “Yeah?”
Nodding, you hummed, “Uh-huh,” and let out a quiet moan as his tip slipped inside. The stretch as he pushed further in was amazing, the different position hitting a completely new angle.
“Fuck, Logan,” you almost screamed as he started thrusting in and out of you. One of his hands—the one not holding you by the hips to guide you—came up to cover your mouth.
“Y’know I love hearing you, baby, but we gotta be quiet,” he strangled out, holding in noises of his own. “Can you do that f’me? Yeah?”
You nodded frantically as you grinded your hips against him, meeting him as he slammed into you. One of your hands was now covering your mouth, letting him use both of his hands to control the pace.
The other hand was against his chest, trying to ground yourself.
Logan could tell you were getting closer, your legs shakier and your hand gripping at his dirty t-shirt. He slid one of his hands down, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles.
He heard a barely muffled moan from you, along with feeling your walls squeeze around him. He almost came right there but he held out, wanting to bring you to your second orgasm before he got his. “Feel good?”
“Uh-huh,” you rocked against him, hips twitching and your brain feeling like mush. “So good, Logan. I’m gonna—I’m close.”
His thrusts were unrelenting as he breathed, “I know, I know. Come for me, baby.” His words sent you over the edge for the second time, even harsher than the first.
He worked you through it, his own orgasm barely even fazing him he was so focused on you. Only feeling how sensitive his dick was when your pussy gripped the shit out of him. “Fuck.”
His entire body relaxed, laying flat on the cart.
You leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. His brain not even needing to catch up, his body kissing you back on it’s own.
It was short, both of you still struggling to catch your breaths.
You could feel him inside you, along with his hot seed, twitching but not really softening. Testing the waters, you gently ground your hips backwards.
A strangled noise came from his throat, his hands on you in seconds. His eyes were squeezed shut as he grumbled, “Baby. Don’t start.”
“You’re not done,” you whined, moving your hips again.
You gasped when Logan started standing up, still holding you to where he didn’t have to pull out. In a mirror across the room, you could see Logan’s arm muscles flexing.
He felt you squeeze around him again.
Pressing you against the wall, his lips dragged wet kisses down your neck, his hips slowly starting to move again. Your hand was in his hair, gripping his brown strands as he fucked you against the wall with more and more force.
The noises were falling out of both of you uncontrollably, the need for each other outweighing logic. Nothing about it was quiet or discreet, but Logan couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. He needed you right then and there.
And with the way he fucked you? There was no way you would want to stop him.
masterlist
note ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃 my first real logan fic woooo🥳 it might be a little ooc IDK but it’s fine i think i like it. i’m currently working on some requests and a few other ideas i had but i’ve been a little busy irl so they may be a bit more spread out but trust i won’t forget anyone’s requests!!
summary: logan keeps cancelling on your date nights, you get tired of missing him. 2k words.
warnings: smut! mdni! oral male receiving, piv. protected sex!
John Logan is nothing if not a man with enough drive to accomplish both his most relevant passions — playing hockey and being with you, though you think he’s been seriously lacking on the latter issue lately.
“Let me guess,” you say as soon as you pick up the phone, his pretty face on the screen through a FaceTime call, “You’re not making it tonight. Again.”
Logan’s lips twist into a guilty smirk, “I’m really sorry, honey. Birdie asked to reschedule our training for tonight.”
It’s the third time Logan cancels on you for training ever since the Briar U Hawks lost two games in a row earlier this month, when he started dedicating all his free time into extra practices, hitting the gym and refining his moves. You’re understanding, of course you are, you know how much of Logan’s entire future (and yours, by association) depends on him catching the eye of professional hockey teams and how he’s been going after his dream for years with your full support. But when your only time seeing your boyfriend is reduced to aftergame’s reunions with all his teammates and pizza on their couch after training, your restraint starts growing thin. Right now, it’s really just a sliver, already midway through cracking.
In other words, you’re climbing up the walls, feeling so very needy.
You roll your eyes, “Logan, you said we were going out tonight,” you protest in your sweetest voice, “That little restaurant right outside of Briar, remember? We would have all night to ourselves…”
“I know, I know.” He shakes his head, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I’ll make it up to you, yeah?”
You sigh, “Yeah, okay. Text me later?”
“You know I will,” he says, a tiny wink thrown at you before he says his goodbyes and hangs up the phone.
Dropping back into bed with a huff, you close your eyes remembering your excitement for tonight. Some alone time with Logan, a warm-toned Italian place with a glass of wine and all the night that’d follow once you got him all to yourself, a turmoil building in your underbelly thinking of how your date night could’ve went if it wasn’t—
“You know what, fuck that” you say to yourself, urging your own legs into moving out of bed. You’re not staying the night letting your needs simmering under your skin because of some fucking practice he doesn’t even need.
If Logan won’t come to you, you will make him.
You knock erratically on the front door, hoping you’re not too late.
“Hey,” Garrett appears behind it, the familiar sound of Summer Nights coming from the TV inside immediately giving away that you’re interrupting something, “Logan’s not home yet.”
“I know,” you smile widely, “I’m on a mission.”
He stares for a second, waiting for you to explain what you actually mean, then ultimately deciding he maybe doesn’t need to hear it, “Alright,” he moves away, giving you the space to walk into the house, “Come in.”
“Thanks,” you bump his shoulder, skipping over to Hannah sitting on the couch, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek, “Hi babe, can’t talk– Things to do.”
“Go, you,” she says, not moving in the slightest but to blow a kiss in your direction as you go up the stairs.
Logan’s room is far from perfectly tidy, but you recognise it as an organized mess, with piles of clothes on top of the bed and all his mispaired socks and sneakers in a corner. You look at the clock on his bedside table, a red 8:43 blinking at you. Birdie still has some senses and would want to be home before 9 p.m., so he can’t be that far now. You gotta get moving.
You start with the clothes, going through them until you find his red and blue hockey jersey, dropping it aside as you move the pile into the nearest chair. Then you focus on getting the right lighting, turning on his lamp and closing all the windows’ curtains, leaving only a soft glow being cast over the room. Sexy, you think.
Now, with the bed all to yourself and the perfect atmosphere, you strip.
Logan feels like he just got run over by a flock of hockey players. He’s exhausted, and all he wants is to take a warm shower and lay on his bed, to call you so he can hear your voice before he falls asleep. Fuck, he misses you.
He knows he’s been lacking, genuinely, and a little side note lies on the back of his mind, urging him to make really nice dinner plans soon. Because it’s not like he doesn’t care, it’s just the way he operates, overthinking his future and overworking on it until it burns him out, happening more frequently than he’d like to admit and yet, every single time, there you are to offer him some care.
As he opens the door to find you on his bed, he wonders if he’s burning more quickly than usual, already hallucinating your showing.
“Hey,” you say, a hint of sultry hiding behind a mischievous smile.
“How—” He starts saying, voice getting cut off as his eyes wonder over what’s in front of him. You and your bare legs, his hockey jersey barely covering your thighs as your upper body rests on his pillows, a dream come true, “What—”
“You can just say hi back, you know?”
“Hi,” he breathes out, “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”
“I know,” you move, lifting up as your legs go under you, knees on the bed, “I just really missed you.”
Logan approaches the bed, his face slightly apologetic, “I missed you too, honey, I’m sorry—”
“You don’t need to apologize,” you raise your hands to reach out to him, hands gripping on the hem of his shirt and pulling him closer. “You’re working so hard lately.”
“Still, I shouldn’t—”
“Logan,” you cut him off, your fingers lazily moving under his shirt as you smile up at him, “I know.”
He drops his bag, hand reaching to touch your face, his thumb moving over your cheek, “You can be mad, honey. You should be mad.”
You keep your stare on his face as your nails start scratching his high hip, giggling when you see his shoulders visibly shaking as a shiver goes up his spine.
“I’m not mad,” you say, lifting up his shirt. Slowly, you move a bit closer, pressing a kiss against Logan’s skin, right on top of a newfound bruise, “Your muscles must feel so sore right now.”
He nods, a sight coming out of his mouth, “A– A little, yeah.”
You press another kiss over his stomach, and another on his hipbone, “Take your shirt off?”
He doesn’t need you to ask again, hands flying to pull his shirt up making you smile at his disposition. Instead, you press your smiling face onto his side, kissing him all the way up to his chest.
“Let me take your mind off of all this, yeah?,” you say, lips hovering over his ear, “Would you like me to?”
He wants to scream God, fucking yes, please. All he needs is to take his mind off of it. Some grounding, some deep breaths and something, anything coming from you. Logan lulls his head back, “Yeah– Yeah, I’d like that.”
You smirk against his neck, hands travelling down until you reach his belt, undoing it. Your fingers sneak into his pants, palming him over his boxers,
“Happy to see me, yeah?”
He chuckles, a low laugh strangled by another sigh, “You’re mean.”
“Am I?”
“No,” he turns his head to you, his hands in your face as he pulls you closer, “No, not at all. Want me to lay in bed?”
You shake your head, “Hm-hm. Want you standing right there in front of me.”
Logan’s skin is warm, and the usual strong scent of his cologne is just barely there after hours of training. Still, you can taste it as you lick down his neck, your kisses down his sternum encouraged by his soft moans.
You hook your pointer finger on the waistband, “This okay?” He nods and you pull it down, his cock springing out of his boxers. You wrap your hand around the base, a slow stroke towards the head.
“Fuck,” he moans, “Fuck, baby.”
Your thumb travels over his shaft and Logan gasps, his hand moving to your shoulder for support. You smirk, enjoying watching his undoing. You stroke it a couple times more, and with a lick of your lips you press a quick kiss to the head, then another, and another until your tongue licks a strip from his base until the very top, mouthing it.
Logan grunts, his hand moving up from your shoulder to the back of your head, gently pushing you down. You let him guide the rhythm, you’re not in a rush nor trying to torture him, you just wanna make him feel good, watching his lips parted open and knees buckling.
“You’re so good, honey,” he says, “Such a perfect mouth, fuck.”
You pull away once you feel his grip tightening, pressing a kiss on the inside of his thigh. Instead of saying anything, you simply move from your knees to laying down onto his bed and a little head nod urging him to join you.
Logan crawls up to you, his hands finding your waist and lifting up the jersey you’re wearing. He kisses your stomach, lips following his hands travelling up until you’re just as bare as him.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he mouths in between kisses all throughout your upper body, nibbling on your breasts.
You lock his legs behind his back, stopping him from moving away from you, “John, baby,” you mutter against his skin, “Want you inside.”
He groans against your skin, “Box’s in the top drawer.”
You stretch your arm, grabbing a condom from the box and handing it to him. Then, disintangling your legs, you watch him as he puts it on and strokes it one, two times. Logan’s hands go to your knees, pushing them open,
“Okay?”
“Yeah, please,” you urge him, legs bending up as he grabs your thighs and pulls you closer. Gently, he positions himself right over your entrance and nudges in. He moves agonizingly slowly, and you whimper for him to fill you.
“Shhhh, babe,” he coos, moving his body down chest to chest, his arms supporting him on each side of your body, “Let me be gentle. I’ll fuck you so nicely.”
You lift up your hip, grinding against his body as he pushes and chasing a warmness growing on your underbelly. Logan’s face hides in your neck whispering, “I fucking love you,” he keeps repeating, “You’re so good, baby. Fuck, I’m so close.”
His hand leaves your side to travel down your body, two fingers in your clit as he keeps pounding into you, faster and faster every time you buckle up in moans.
“Hmph, Logan…” you mumble, lips chasing him, “Oh, I’m gonna—”
“Come, sweetheart,” he kisses you, again and again, “Come for me, baby. You did so good, I wanna make you feel good. Come, please,” he says as his fingertips move faster, his hips slowing down in his thrusts. You groan, throwing your head back as you let it out completely, body shaking with added pleasure as you feel Logan’s grip on your skin when he comes too.
“Oh, my god,” he murmurs through deep breaths, “Baby.”
You let out a giggle on your comedown, your hands finding his cheeks pulling him in for a number of kisses, one, two, three, a hundred pecks over his lips and nose.
“I missed you,” Logan says in between them, “I really did. I’m never canceling on you again, okay? Goddamn, I’m never stepping foot on the ice again.”
You laugh, shaking your head, “Don’t be ridiculous. Maybe just leave a day or two for date nights over the week?”
“Yeah, fuck—” He nods, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“And maybe keep your promises when you ask me to dinner,” you gently pinch his nose, “No more sugar talking.”
Logan smiles at you, then moves to give you a deep, passionate kiss, then a second one on the corner of your mouth, “You’re sweet enough, anyway.”
notes: likes, reblogs and thoughts are appreciated (and please nice to me! i'm a bit stiff with writing smut but really wanted to try this one out). thank you for reading!
summary: You naively planned to make it to your morning beauty treatment while Oscar enjoyed a rare day off in bed. But you didn't know yet that your boyfriend would wake up with the dirtiest intentions of dragging you back into bed.
pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader
word count: 2 900+ k
raiting: 18+
genre: established relationship, pwp, smut, morning sex, teasing, a riding, blowjob, swear words, praise
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (MDNI). This story contains explicit adult content (smut/NSFW), morning sex, and suggestive themes. Read at your own risk and responsibility. Please also keep in mind that English is not my native language, so there may be some grammatical errors or awkwardly phrased sentences. Thank you for your understanding and patience 🙏🏻🧡
author note: I love writing morning sex scenes—isn't that hot? Oscar in his days off is just a whole different person. This idea actually popped into my head out of nowhere, and I just had to write it down. I hope you enjoy this short but pretty intense story 🤭 I’d appreciate any feedback 🥰
Going to bed late, knowing that you need to wake up early in the morning — is definitely not the best idea. When the phone alarm stubbornly rang for the third time that morning, you had to force yourself to open your eyes. They burned unpleasantly from the short, insufficient sleep.
You turned your head and looked at Oscar, who was sleeping soundly next to you. To your surprise, he hadn’t even stirred during any of your three alarms. His steady, deep snoring clearly indicated that the guy was in the realm of the sweetest dreams. You quietly snorted to yourself. This was that same rare, unscheduled day off for Oscar, which in his crazy schedule happened even less often than such quiet mornings as today. He could sleep as much as he wanted. But you had to get up, because an important visit to the hair master was scheduled for today.
Carefully freeing yourself from Oscar’s cozy embrace, you slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. The morning routine took at least forty minutes: you took a hot shower, washed your hair, and applied fresh, light makeup. When you glanced at the clock, it showed exactly eight in the morning. You had only thirty minutes left to get dressed and get to the salon.
You quietly entered the bedroom to grab clothes. You were wearing only panties and an oversized T-shirt that barely covered your ass. Not even thinking about how seductive you looked from behind, you approached the large white wardrobe to choose an outfit. You bent down to the lower shelf, and the thin fabric of the T-shirt stretched, completely exposing your slender legs and the curves of your hips.
When you finally found the right clothes and turned around, you suddenly discovered that Oscar was no longer sleeping.
He was lying on his back, with one hand tucked under his head. Oscar slowly raised his eyes from your legs, slid across your waist, and finally stopped his gaze on your face. His brown eyes were half-open, indicating he had just woken up, and a lazy, satisfied smile played on his lips.
“I have to admit, this is one of the best views I’ve ever woken up to,” he drawled in a low, hoarse voice still thick with sleep.
You laughed quietly, hiding your embarrassment. His compliment ran through your body like a real electric current, leaving a pleasant shiver.
“Well, I didn’t plan to please you first thing in the morning, but it turned out that way,” you replied playfully, stepping closer to the bed.
Oscar’s eyes shamelessly scanned you from head to toe. His gaze literally devoured your legs, then moved higher, lingering on your breasts, where your nipples instantly hardened under the fabric of the T-shirt from just his voice.
Oscar lay with his legs casually spread, and the light summer blanket covered only his groin. His abs were tense and sharply defined. In your head, an intrusive image instantly appeared of you slowly running your tongue from his chest down to the very bottom of his stomach. You forced yourself to shake your head and quickly looked away, trying not to think about what you couldn’t allow yourself right now. But your eyes treacherously dropped lower — to where a significant morning erection was clearly visible under the thin blanket.
You involuntarily lingered there with your gaze, clearly imagining how your fingers touched his cock through the fabric, squeezing that incredible hardness. It was just a second of weakness, but it was enough for Oscar to completely read your thoughts. When you finally came to your senses, he was already looking at you with a sly gaze that promised nothing chaste. You ironically raised an eyebrow, as if asking why he was so pleased.
“Don’t you want to please me even more this morning?” he asked with a hint, nodding his gaze toward his groin.
In reality, you wanted it more than anything in the world. Your body reacted so wildly to his dark gaze that you were already wet through your clean underwear. You wanted to jump on the bed right now, straddle your boyfriend, and feel him inside you with your whole body. But the rigid timing held you in a vise.
“Unfortunately, love, no. I’m in a hurry for my appointment with Jade,” you had to refuse.
“Reschedule the appointment,” he suggested.
You turned away to the dresser to get hand cream, trying to distract yourself:
“I can’t do that. Jade’s schedule is booked by the hour, and I can’t wait another week. My hair requires meticulous care. Besides, in a week I won’t be in Monaco at all, because we’ll be with you in Belgium.”
“Okay, then let’s do it quickly so you make it,” Oscar persisted, still hoping you would break under his pressure.
You glanced at your boyfriend again, and he looked fucking hot. He was fully ready to enter you and give you unforgettable pleasure. The temptation to neglect the procedure was enormous. But the voice of reason reminded you: you could have sex with Oscar anytime, but you had to get to Jade strictly today. You pressed your lips together and forcefully tore your eyes away from him, walking over to your side of the bed where lay the clothes which you chose a several minutes ago.
“No, Oscar. I just took a shower and applied makeup. I can’t sweat right now. I don’t have time to wash again.”
“Too bad,” he replied absolutely calmly, but a seductive fire flashed in his brown eyes, “Then I’ll have to take care of it myself.”
You frowned in surprise, holding the clothes in your hands, when you were about to step away from the bed. When you turned around, you froze in complete shock. Oscar casually slipped his hand under the blanket. Right in front of your eyes, he began openly touching himself, and this spectacular gesture instantly shut off any rational control in your head. A hot wave of arousal hit your lower belly, and you felt yourself become even wetter between your legs than before. Holding back was simply impossible.
“Are you serious, Piastri?” you half-whispered, aroused and indignant.
Throwing the clothes onto the nearest chair, you decisively approached the bed and climbed onto it, ending up above Oscar. A triumphant, wildly sexy smile stretched his lips, but you no longer cared. All you could think about was his hand hidden under the fabric.
With one sharp movement, you threw the blanket aside, and an incredible sight opened before your eyes: his palm was hidden under his home shorts, and his massive erection clearly and prominently protruded through the fabric, demanding immediate release.
Oscar didn’t even think about removing his hand; he just looked up at you from below with his incredibly dark gaze full of passion. He was enjoying his victory. He knew you wouldn’t resist.
“You’re in a hurry, baby,” he reminded you, barely noticeably moving his fingers under the shorts, causing the fabric to stretch again.
You didn’t answer. The sounds of the outside world, time, Jade, and your perfect makeup — all of it instantly lost any meaning. You leaned over him, sliding forward, running your fingers into his messy bed hair, and greedily captured his hot lips in a deep, demanding kiss. Oscar instantly responded, seizing the initiative. His tongue dominantly slid into your mouth, intertwining with yours and turning the kiss into wet madness.
Meanwhile, your free palm slid lower, landing right on top of his hand, which was still inside the shorts. You pressed hard on his crotch with your palm, forcing Oscar to let out a low, satisfied groan straight into your lips.
Without breaking the kiss, you slipped your fingers under the elastic waistband of his shorts, finding his own hand. You roughly pulled his wrist upward, forcing Oscar to remove his palm.
“I’ll do it,” you said, breathing heavily into his lips, looking down at him.
Oscar allowed you to do whatever you wanted without hesitation, but his large palms had already possessively settled on your thighs under the T-shirt, digging his fingers firmly into your tender skin and pressing your wet crotch against his thigh.
After kissing him on the lips, you pulled away a moment later and moved lower, confidently pulling his shorts down. He wasn’t wearing boxers underneath. You freed his erection, which, as expected, was already covered with a network of tense veins.
Your heart pounded somewhere in your throat. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, feeling how warm and hard it was, and made several slow, firm strokes from base to tip, gathering drops of morning precum.
You leaned down to his cock and touched the sensitive head with your tongue. Oscar sharply inhaled through his nose, his abs tensed like steel, and the fingers that had been possessively on your thighs a few seconds ago now gripped your hair.
You took his length less than halfway, rhythmically moving your lips along his cock. Your saliva mixed with a small amount of his precum. Oscar began moaning a little louder each time your lips moved.
Fuck.
That low groan of his made you so greedy for his cock. You continued sucking him, helping with your hand. Between your legs was a complete mess. You were very wet, and your clit ached from arousal and needed attention.
“Fuck…” Oscar drawled when he lightly pressed on the back of your head so you would take him deeper. You gave in without any resistance. “Fuck yes… this feels so good,” he groaned.
You took him deeper, completely surrendering to his soft but confident pressure. Oscar arched on the mattress, his hips instinctively thrusting toward your lips, catching this sweet, lingering moment. Your saliva generously lubricated the hot flesh, and each of your movements was accompanied by a wet, teasing sound that echoed in the silence of the morning bedroom.
His fingers tangled in your hair, but he wasn’t rough — he only kept control of every centimeter of pleasure you were giving him. Your tongue caressed the sensitive tip of his head while your lips rhythmically slid down, making Oscar moan dully and brokenly again and again. His abs were iron-hard from tension, and his breathing became increasingly heavy and ragged.
“It’s always so good…” he groaned lowly, and in his usually calm voice now rang pure wild passion. He barely managed to lift himself to look at you. And when he saw you between his legs, he wanted to feel your pussy.
Oscar stopped you, forcing you to release his cock from your mouth. He pulled you toward him, and you found yourself face to face with him, breathing heavily, with lips wet from arousal. His brown eyes had completely darkened, turning into two deep whirlpools.
Oscar slipped his large palms under your T-shirt. His slightly rough fingers slid up your ribs, immediately finding your tense breasts. He squeezed them, rolling the hard nipples between his fingertips, causing you to moan loudly and helplessly right into his neck. Your completely wet and pulsating pussy rubbed against his firm thigh, seeking at least some relief.
“Look at yourself,” Oscar said, propping himself up on his elbows and making you straighten your back. He pulled the T-shirt off you and threw it somewhere on the floor. “So greedy for me that you even forgot you’re running late.”
His palm unceremoniously found the edge of your thin panties. With one confident movement, he pulled them down your thighs and got rid of them the same way as the T-shirt. Your panties landed near your T-shirt somewhere on the floor. Your pussy was now completely exposed before his heavy, burning gaze. Oscar slowly ran his middle finger along your folds, collecting abundant, clear wetness, and immediately pressed the pad of his finger to your swollen, burning clit.
“Ah… ah,” was all you could squeeze out of yourself. Everything inside clenched from such sharp, concentrated caress.
“You’re so wet, baby. Just dripping for me,” Oscar smiled, continuing to rhythmically and tenderly rub your most sensitive spot, making you tremble and literally melt on his fingers. Then his long middle and ring fingers smoothly slid into your tight depth, checking how ready you were. You were ready more than completely — your muscles greedily clenched around his fingers, pushing out even more moisture.
Pulling his hand out, Oscar didn’t let you catch your breath. He grabbed your waist, lifting you slightly higher, and authoritatively spread your knees to the sides, placing them on either side of his hips. You were now directly above his erection, which was pressing like a spear between your buttocks.
“We don’t have much time, you still have to make it,” his low voice seemed to mock. You didn’t care anymore. You were no longer in a hurry. You would apologize to Jade and survive the fact that you’d have to deal with untreated hair for a few weeks. This Oscar right now beneath you was worth forgetting everything in the world. You needed him right now.
It was as if he read your thoughts and directed the head of his cock straight to your wet entrance. His palms firmly fixed your thighs, giving no chance to retreat.
He thrust his hips upward while simultaneously pulling your thighs down, and with one powerful, smooth thrust, he entered you to his full considerable length.
Your loud cry from his penetration drowned in his new, greedy kiss. Oscar filled you so deeply that your vision darkened for a moment from pure, concentrated pleasure. Your hot pussy tightly, without any gap, embraced his thick shaft, taking every centimeter. Oscar froze for a few seconds, breathing heavily into your lips, giving your body time to adjust to his size, and then his hands guided you and you began to move.
You moved up and down, setting your first, still somewhat cautious rhythm. However, maintaining this pace on your own turned out to be a real challenge. Oscar filled you so tightly and deeply that with every movement, powerful bursts of pleasure shot through your body. Your inner muscles clenched his thick shaft like hot vises, and each thrust was accompanied by an open, wet squelching sound that echoed throughout the bedroom.
“Oscar…” you exhaled raggedly, throwing your head back. Strands of your freshly washed hair chaotically scattered over your shoulders, tickling your back.
Oscar grabbed your breasts with one hand and massaged them, heightening your sensations. He knew that breasts were one of your strong erogenous zones. He wanted you to feel maximum pleasure.
Piastri no longer wanted to just lie there and passively receive your caress. Oscar’s large palms authoritatively moved higher, gripping your waist and completely taking over the initiative. He began thrusting his hips upward — sharply, strongly, with hungry and merciless force, which made you completely lose your footing.
Each of his powerful thrusts drove his cock to the hilt, hitting your most sensitive spot inside. The rhythm became frantic and relentless. Your clit rubbed perfectly and tightly against his pubic bone with every movement. A hot wave of concentrated ecstasy began to rapidly coil into a tight, aching knot in the very bottom of your belly. You helplessly gasped for air, clutching his shoulders tightly with your fingers, leaving pale marks from your nails.
“Look at me,” Oscar said hoarsely, almost commandingly.
You opened your eyes, hazy with arousal, and met his gaze. His honey eyes had darkened so much that his pupils had completely swallowed the irises, reflecting pure passion. He looked straight into your eyes, breathing heavily and frequently, while his hips continued relentlessly and deeply driving his cock into your exhausted depths. This eye contact finally finished off your endurance.
“Oscar, I’m about to… I can’t anymore…” you moaned helplessly, feeling the walls of your pussy begin to convulse in small, spasmodic pulses around his flesh.
“Wait just a little longer,” he asked gently, in dissonance with how he was looking at you. But you could no longer hold back this reaction.
“I… can’t…” you moaned while Oscar fucked you senseless. He made a few more deep, strong thrusts, then pulled you toward him. He breathed right into your lips, catching your mouth in a kiss and making several final, hardest and deepest thrusts.
You were overwhelmed by a blinding, devastating wave of orgasm. You moaned loudly and protractedly into his lips, clenching tightly around his cock with spasms and pushing out even more wetness. Feeling your contractions, Oscar let out a low groan. He made two final, quick thrusts, then lifted you off himself, spilling his cum onto your stomach and his own. His abs hardened, and a noticeable shiver ran through his body.
You both limply collapsed onto the bed. You fell onto his chest, breathing heavily and listening to Oscar’s heart beating wildly and loudly. His strong arms smoothly moved to your back, firmly pressing you to him and soothingly stroking your hot skin. Your light makeup was slightly smudged from sweat, but it didn’t matter at all right now.
Several minutes passed in complete, relaxed silence until your breathing finally evened out. Oscar slightly turned his head and left a soft kiss on the top of your head. In his hoarse, still deep voice, a familiar, slightly sly smile broke through:
summary: How do you ask your boyfriend for sex without saying a single word? During ovulation, your body gives away every unspoken desire, reacting to his mere presence. But it’s not easy to be seductive when your boyfriend is completely oblivious to all your hints.
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (MDNI). This story contains explicit adult content (smut/NSFW) and suggestive themes. Read at your own risk and responsibility. Please also keep in mind that English is not my native language, so there may be some grammatical errors or awkwardly phrased sentences. Thank you for your understanding and patience 🙏🏻
author note: I don't really know how to comment on this story—I just wrote it for fun 🥰 If you like it, I'll be really happy ☺️ Have a great weekend 🧡 Oh, and I'd like to emphasize that I LOVE OSCAR SO MUCH ❤️🔥
Oscar leaned over the table, bracing his hands against it. He was staring intently at the tablet while talking to Amir on the phone. Your gaze, which you had accidentally shifted to your boyfriend, slid over his half-bent figure. His strong legs were clearly visible from under the shorts, which had ridden up on his right thigh and lifted, because of the way he was leaning over the table. His hips and ass were tilted slightly back, and you simply couldn’t help but linger on them with your attentive stare.
His narrow waist was hugged by a black T-shirt that somehow made him look sexy, even though he wore that T-shirt at home all the time and it had never produced this effect before. His arms were tensed from the way he was transferring part of his body weight onto them. The veins that webbed across his arms were a particular weakness of yours, but again, right now they sent a wave of light arousal through you. Oscar unexpectedly straightened up and headed for the window, still focused on the conversation with his race engineer, but you realized you were devouring your boyfriend with your eyes.
Oscar wasn’t trying to seduce you. He was simply working, yet the image of him serious, carefully studying important little details, was damn attractive. Maybe on any other day you wouldn’t have reacted this way, but the peak of your ovulation made you feel hungry for the ordinary, routine image of your boyfriend.
You forced yourself to look back at the movie you and Oscar had decided to watch ten minutes ago, but your eyes traitorously kept returning to the man who was pacing near the window.
You felt that you wanted sex. But you couldn’t just say it outright. Like, how would that look—Oscar finishes the call, sits down next to you, and you go “I want sex, let’s go to the bedroom” or what?
No. You would never have said something like that out loud because you had never been the one to initiate sex. Well, actually you had, but Oscar didn’t know about it. When you wanted sex, all you needed to do was drop the right hint that Oscar would read as a coincidence that turned him on, and in those moments you were never against it.
You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the TV screen where the actors were unsuccessfully trying to play out a drama. But it no longer held any interest.
Oscar’s low, slightly velvety voice, sounding calm and confident in the room, made you think of him in the most indecent way. Obsessive thoughts instantly appeared in your head about how to provoke him into sex once again.
“Yes, Amir, got it. Send me that data, I’ll look it over again in the morning. Thanks, talk later,” Oscar finally ended the call, exhaled, and ran a palm over his face, rubbing away the light fatigue.
He turned to you. His dark eyes, focused and cold just a second ago, instantly softened when they met yours.
“Sorry,” he moved toward the couch, and his walk was relaxed, yet every movement still carried that hidden athletic strength. “It was urgent.”
“It’s fine,” you said with a smile, waiting for his closeness. Oscar sank down next to you, stretching out an arm to hug you around the shoulders out of habit. His body radiated pleasant warmth, and the familiar cozy scent of his skin made your pulse jump even higher.
Red lights were flashing in your head, telling you that you would only calm down once Oscar fucked you. So you began your attempt to get what you wanted. You shifted closer and rested your head on his chest, while your palm, as if by accident, landed on his thigh—right where the fabric of the shorts was still slightly ridden up. Your fingers felt the dense, tensed muscle.
You didn’t see how his gaze immediately dropped to your hand on his thigh. He didn’t react at all and just continued quietly watching the movie.
You stayed in that position for several long minutes. Your eyes fell to his crotch, and you couldn’t fully admit to yourself how badly you wanted to touch him right there. You shifted almost imperceptibly, holding yourself back with all your strength, then lifted your head to him and started a casual conversation.
“Did you call your mom back? You said you’d do it when you got back from your evening run.”
You moved your palm a few centimeters higher, pretending it was just more comfortable to sit that way. Oscar looked indifferent to where your hand was resting and answered softly:
“Right… I completely forgot. Mom’s probably already asleep, I’ll call her tomorrow,” he replied with guilt in his voice. You only hummed and turned back to the TV. Several more minutes passed, and to your surprise Oscar still wasn’t reacting to your, well, not-at-all-subtle attempt to make him at least think about sex.
You watched that movie, and you were itching to drop a clearer hint. Because the sight of the stretched fabric on his thighs, right where his cock was, was literally waving in front of your eyes like a damn red flag.
You pretended you needed to scratch your nose, which of course wasn’t itchy, but the plan was that when you lifted the hand that had been resting on his thigh, you would brush against his groin. You felt Oscar turn his head downward, but he stayed silent. His thighs tensed, and you noticed it. It had worked.
A moment later your hand returned to its previous place, but Oscar still didn’t react. You looked at his thighs again and started to get irritated that he wasn’t doing anything. Usually Oscar would already have joked or simply started the tenderness that would have turned into a kiss, but for some reason today he was ignoring such obvious hints. You heard him only inhale more deeply, and you could literally feel with your skin how his entire body tensed. Oscar cleared his throat and you lifted your face to him.
In his eyes you finally saw a playful spark, and his lips parted, about to say something like a teasing question.
You held your breath, preparing to put on the purest look of surprise in the world, but at that exact second the screen of his smartphone on the coffee table flared with bright light, and a insistent ringtone burst from the speaker.
Oscar twisted around toward the phone, and that heated fog that had only just started to thicken between you instantly scattered. He looked at the screen, then back at you—already with a guilty and slightly sheepish smile. Nicole’s photo was lighting up the display.
“Ah, so she’s not asleep after all,” Oscar said with a light smile, reaching for the phone. “I have to answer, or she’ll definitely give me a half-hour lecture about what a careless son I am.”
You smiled, releasing Oscar from the desired embrace. He swiped his finger across the screen and brought the phone to his ear:
“Hi, Mom. No-no, I wasn’t sleeping, everything’s fine… sorry I didn’t call back…”
You half-closed your eyes, leaning back against the couch.
Seriously? Right now?
This was a complete defeat of the current round.
Nicole, as always, had a million pieces of news and just as many questions. His mother’s voice, loud and energetic even through the speaker, filled the room. Oscar stood up from the couch again—he had that relentless habit of walking during phone conversations—and slowly paced toward the kitchen, answering her questions on the move and passing hello from her to you.
Your intention finally died under the monotonous: “Yes, Mom… No, I ate… no, everything’s fine, we’re just watching a movie.”
Your failed attempt was still burning inside you in hot waves. Today you didn’t get what you wanted, because the conversation lasted twenty minutes. Nicole Piastri knew how to talk for a long time, especially when she got to family gossip or discussing his upcoming race weekend. And considering that mother and Oscar hadn’t spoken for several days, there was plenty to talk about. She even managed to speak with you.
While you were talking to Nicole, Oscar went to take a shower. And when you came to the bedroom after your own bathroom routine, your boyfriend was already peacefully snoring, exhausted from the day.
The next day you tried again. If the subtle hints in the living room had been shattered by Nicole’s call, today you decided to change strategy and act a little more provocatively.
Putting on short shorts and a thin-strapped tank top seemed almost justified because it was hot outside, but the way you behaved in that outfit couldn’t possibly fail. Oscar wouldn’t be able to ignore your bare legs all day. Yet your ovulation and fate had completely different plans.
Almost the entire day Oscar spent working: first he spent hours turning laps on the simulator, completely immersed in the virtual track, then he went out for an exhausting hour-long run under the scorching sun, and when he returned and washed the sweat off, his attention was fully claimed by the general Formula 1 drivers’ chat, where some heated argument had broken out about the latest regulation changes. He typed long replies while commenting out loud on inappropriate remarks from Sainz or Colapinto, and it seemed he was looking right through you.
Your short tank top and exposed thighs existed in his field of vision completely in vain.
Even already in the bedroom, when you finally lay down, you tried to lie closer, pressing your thighs against his crotch. Oscar hugged you on autopilot, mumbled something affectionate and half-asleep… and fell asleep a minute and a half later, drained by the simulator and the run.
Your frustration was already starting to turn into genuine sporting excitement.
On the second day this supposed “invisibility” continued. Oscar kept getting distracted by something: a call from his manager, checking analytics, some household trifles, completely failing to notice your languid looks and calculated movements. You tried several more small seductive maneuvers again, but he reacted with some unbearable, innocent indifference. It was already starting to raise a wave of light irritation inside you.
How much longer?
You were on the verge of simply telling him to do it with you, but another call interrupted you. You were tired of playing this game and, disappointed in your seductive talents, you gave up.
In the evening, after a hot shower, you finally decided to abandon any attempts to seduce your busy boyfriend.
“Enough”, you thought, rubbing the steamed skin with a towel. Your body was still burning and demanding attention, but pride won out.
You dropped the robe, pulled a thin, loose white T-shirt over your naked body and soft pajama pants. No longer trying to play the role of Miss Seductress, you went out into the living room to join him watching TV.
Oscar was sitting on the couch watching some sports show, relaxed after a long day. He was stretched out on the couch, holding his phone and listening with interest to the male voices on the television. You settled on the couch next to Oscar, asking what he was watching. He tossed out that it was analysis of the latest cricket match, and you lost interest. You didn’t understand that game. Staring at the screen of your own phone, you started scrolling through the latest Instagram updates. You weren’t trying to attract his attention. You were simply sitting next to him.
And it was exactly at that moment, when you were completely ordinary and domestic, that Oscar suddenly turned his gaze on you.
The thin cotton fabric of the T-shirt softly hugged your breasts, and without a bra your nipples clearly and distinctly outlined under the material. Oscar latched onto that with his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“I’ll go get us some fruit,” you said, lowering your feet to the floor. You stood up from the couch, still not suspecting the change in his mood.
You went to the kitchen, and Oscar couldn’t tear his eyes away. His gaze followed you. The pajama pants, though soft and simple, hugged your ass so seductively and naturally, emphasizing with smooth movements every step you took, that something finally switched in the racing driver’s head.
When you returned from the kitchen holding a plate of sliced juicy fruit, Oscar’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second. You approached the coffee table in front of the couch and bent down to set the plate down. The T-shirt hung forward, revealing a deep neckline from above and a view of your breasts, while the pajama pants stretched over your hips. So Oscar saw no reason to hold back.
Before you could walk past, his palm slid between your thighs, a little above the knees, forcing you to stop. You felt the impulse you tried to ignore. Your hypersensitivity at the peak of ovulation made you react that way.
“What…?” you didn’t finish, because the next moment Oscar’s strong palms were already on your hips. Your squeak bounced off the living-room walls when he pulled you toward him with a smooth but confident motion.
The world flipped, and a second later you found yourself straddling him, bracing your hands on his chest. His strong arms firmly fixed you by the waist, pulling you flush against his tensed body.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” Oscar murmured against your lips, his voice low and his breathing heavy, while his fingers dug forcefully into the soft fabric of your thighs, leaving you no chance of escape.
“Doing what?” you asked in surprise, not understanding his question. “I brought fruit…”
One of his palms, which a moment ago had been on your thighs, slipped under the pants and squeezed your firm ass, while his lips burned your own with hot, aroused breath a millimeter away.
“Your nipples are so clearly visible through this fucking T-shirt—isn’t that a hint for me?” he asked. Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second and you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Exactly at the moment when you had abandoned all attempts to seduce him and simply put on ordinary home clothes, he suddenly read it as a hint for sex?
It was the most ridiculous, yet at the same time the sweetest irony of the last few days. You had tried to put on a whole performance with short shorts, innocent touches and refined poses—and he had been blind as a mole. But the moment you simply pulled on the first available home T-shirt, accepted defeat and went for apples—the celebrated analytical mind of Oscar Piastri completely short-circuited.
A light, uncontrollable little laugh still escaped your chest, spilling right against his lips.
“No, you silly, this is just an ordinary T-shirt I sleep in,” you said, your voice full of flirtation. You frantically felt how his cock was pressing against your pubic bone and only now realized that you were already wet.
“But why do I feel like you put it on today not just by chance?” he asked, and his low voice, full of arousal, echoed as a vibration in your chest.
“Right now I put it on exactly by chance,” you answered with a hint of reproach. “I spent two days spinning around in front of you in the shortest shorts, groping you on the couch, pressing against you in bed—and you just slept or were busy. And now when I put on home clothes and wasn’t hinting at anything, you accuse me of provocation?!”
Oscar froze for a second. A whole range of emotions flashed across his face: from slight surprise to realization of the full picture, and then the corners of his lips twitched into a crooked, incredibly self-satisfied smile.
“So… there were hints?” his voice sounded even lower, with a light teasing rasp. “And I thought those short shorts were on you just because it was hot.”
His palm under the pajama pants massaged your ass, forcing you to involuntarily rock forward and press even tighter against his tensed crotch. The expression on his face instantly changed from mocking to dark.
“Well… sorry I was busy,” he whispered, covering your neck with his lips right next to the pulsing vein, which made your breath catch. “Now I’m completely free.”
Oscar turned you, and you lay on your side, still pressed by his heavy body. His other hand, which had been holding you by the waist, slid upward under the thin cotton, fingers covering your swollen, sensitive breasts. You sucked in a sharp breath when his thumb roughly and confidently smeared across your nipple, finally destroying the last remnants of your pride and feigned laughter. His soft lips left wet trails along your neck and now you felt that you were finally going to get what you wanted. It made you even wetter.
“Oscar…” you exhaled, threading your fingers into his thick, slightly tousled hair at the nape of his neck.
“What, honey?” he pulled away from your neck and looked up at you from below, breathing heavily. His dark gaze was hungry, hot and absolute. “You wanted this, right? So let’s make up for these last two days.”
He fully rolled you onto your back and successfully settled between your spread legs. His lips found yours in a matter of seconds and his tongue eagerly invaded your mouth. Your tongues clashed for dominance and you were so happy to feel what you had been craving for two damn days that you easily let him take the lead. The wet, deep kiss was accompanied by light thrusts of Oscar’s hips. He was trying to create the necessary friction that would ease the sweet ache between your legs.
He tore away from your lips and moved lower, scorching the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbones with hot, wet kisses. His rough palms grabbed the hem of your thin white T-shirt and yanked it upward, exposing your breasts. Oscar froze for a moment, greedily sucking in air when his eyes met your half-naked body.
His palm covered one breast, squeezing the soft flesh and rubbing the hard nipple with his thumb while his lips already found the other. Oscar was devouring you: he gently nipped the nipple, licked it with his hot tongue and sucked so deeply that you involuntarily arched your back, loudly and raggedly sucking in air and burying your fingers in his hair.
Without giving you a moment to recover, he began slowly descending with kisses. His lips traveled a path along your ribs, across your tensed stomach, leaving wet traces right near your navel. With every breath of his, your body trembled with unbearable anticipation.
Oscar grabbed the waistband of your pajama pants together with your ordinary cotton panties and with a confident, hurried motion pulled them down over your strong legs, leaving you completely naked. He spread your thighs apart and, without wasting a second, buried his face right between them.
His breath scorched your folds. And a moment later the tongue that touched you made your head fall heavily back onto the couch. You moaned loudly, digging your fingers into the upholstery. Oscar was caressing you so well that everything inside clenched into a knot within seconds. He was drinking your wetness, working his tongue skillfully until bright stars truly floated before your eyes. From the hypersensitivity and the desire that had been building too long over these days of waiting, the first blinding orgasm crashed over you in a powerful wave, making your thighs tremble finely and press toward him.
“You’re so quick today,” came from between your legs. You could barely lift your head to see your boyfriend’s satisfied face, feeling the sweet wave of orgasm subside. Oscar climbed back up your body and covered your lips again with a deep, insatiable kiss, letting you taste yourself on his mouth.
“So incredibly delicious,” he said breathlessly against your lips, looking into your hazy eyes. You smiled, seeing the pleasure in his eyes and being happy that you were the reason for it.
Oscar rose to his feet without taking his hot, hungry gaze off you. In one motion he pulled off his T-shirt, exposing his sculpted shoulders and broad chest, then shoved down his shorts together with his underwear. While he was undressing, his eyes slowly, obscenely scanned your pose: your tousled hair, breasts rising high with your breathing, bare thighs and flushed, happy face after the first explosion of pleasure.
Oscar finally lowered himself again and slowly, with special care, settled between your spread legs. He guided his hard, aroused cock to your flesh that was ready to take him and began entering millimeter by millimeter. You drew in a long breath, feeling the incredible fullness.
He was in no hurry to break into a crazy pace. Oscar gave you slow, deep pleasure, fully controlling every movement. He moved inside you with long strokes while simultaneously giving attention to every centimeter of your body: his palms forcefully squeezed your thighs, leaving red marks, his fingers caressed and kneaded your nipples, and his lips constantly found yours—sometimes for tender, sometimes for wild, demanding kisses. He latched onto your neck with his lips, probably leaving hickeys there that drove you crazy.
When the rhythm started to accelerate again, Oscar suddenly stopped, breathing heavily. Several beads of sweat had already appeared on his forehead, and his cheeks were sweetly flushed. But that look only made you more aroused.
Oscar scooped you up under the ass, sank deeper and confidently sat down on the couch, settling you on top of his lap.
You found yourself right on him, fully impaled on his hard cock.
“Ride me, baby,” he ordered softly. Oscar dug his palms into your ass and gently pushed you up and down.
You clutched his shoulders with your hands and made the first movement that sent the pleasant sensation of fullness all the way to your fingertips.
From that position and the incredible depth of penetration, control finally disappeared. You started moving on him, moaning loudly while Oscar greedily kissed your breasts, squeezed your thighs and helped you with his powerful thrusts from below.
The movements became faster, harder and more uncompromising. With every motion your voice grew louder, and Oscar’s groans added heat. It was incredibly good. It was absolutely worth those two days of useless waiting.
From the sweet torment and frantic friction you could no longer hold back and were literally screaming through the room, and the second, even more devastating orgasm crashed over both of you, making you clench around his cock with the convulsive movements of your inner muscles.
Oscar groaned dully, feeling your walls squeeze him, sucking out the last drops of self-control, and he sharply thrust his hips upward, burying himself to the hilt. The hot wave of his orgasm burst inside you—in powerful thrusts—and you felt the warmth spreading deep, mixing with your wetness.
You were still trembling, breathing heavily, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. Your body refused to obey, your legs shook, and your heart was pounding somewhere in your throat. Oscar didn’t let go. His hands slowly, almost tenderly, slid up your back under the T-shirt, pulling you closer while you both tried to catch your breath.
“Fuck…” he exhaled hoarsely into your hair. You laughed quietly, still feeling him pulse inside you. “Are you okay?”
“Ohhh yeah… You outdid yourself today, love. I’m damn satisfied. Although this could have happened earlier if you hadn’t been so busy,” you said with intermittent breathing, lifting your head. His cheeks were even more flushed, his lips swollen, and his eyes dark and satisfied.
Oscar snorted, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. He carefully lifted you, sliding out of you, and felt his come slowly trickle down the inner side of your thigh.
You thought that was the end and you had both gotten what you wanted, but your boyfriend had other plans for you. He must have decided that since you had waited so many days, two orgasms wouldn’t be enough for you.
You squeaked in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck when he carried you through the living room straight to the bedroom. The T-shirt was still on you, but as soon as you were on the bed it was done for and ended up on the floor.
He stood near the edge of the bed, completely naked, his cock wet with your mixture and already starting to harden again. His gaze slid over you from top to bottom—over the tousled hair, the marks of his lips on your neck, the glistening wet skin between your legs.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered low. “Wider.”
You slowly obeyed, feeling the hot excitement rise again. Oscar leaned over you, bracing on one arm, still standing on the floor. His fingers found your entrance that was burning after the recent penetration and slid inside—two at once—and began moving in that same slow, deep rhythm with which he had just fucked you. His thumb pressed on your clit, circling, and within a few minutes you were on the edge again. But every time you started to clench, Oscar stopped.
“Don’t come,” he said quietly, and that commanding tone was so sexy. “Hold on a little.”
You moaned in frustration, thrusting your hips toward him.
“Sadist… you’re the one who ignored me for several days…” you groaned with reproach.
“I have to make up for what I missed. And I’m serious,” he said, driving his fingers into you while hovering above. His heavy cock was hard again to the limit and brushing against your thigh.
Without letting you come, after several long, torturous minutes he flipped you onto your stomach. He scooped you up under the hips, lifting your ass, and entered again with a long, deep thrust. You buried your face in the pillow, moaning into the fabric as he began to move. This time faster. Harder. His hips slapped against yours, his palm squeezed your ass, spreading it so he could go even deeper.
“Just like that…” he exhaled heavily. “This is exactly what you wanted for two days. Right?”
You could only moan loudly to confirm his words, and taking that as your positive answer, he sped up. Every thrust knocked the air out of you; every time he bottomed out you felt him hit that spot inside that made your eyes roll back. His palm found your breasts, squeezing firmly, then that same hand slid between your legs and found your clit. The combination of his incredibly gentle movements on your clit and the strong thrusts inside you brought you to a third orgasm. Unable to hold back, you screamed into the pillow, clenching around him so tightly that Oscar exhaled sharply and thrust roughly a few more times before coming deep inside you again.
Absolute silence filled the room, broken only by your heavy breathing. It had been a whole marathon that ended successfully for both of you. Still inside you, Oscar covered you with his body. His lips found your ear.
“I fixed my fuck-up.”
You laughed quietly into the pillow, still trembling under him, feeling him slowly pulse inside while his come mixed with your wetness.
“You think?” you whispered hoarsely, turning your head to catch his gaze. Oscar raised an eyebrow with an ironic expression appeared on his face. You waited a moment and then laughed, “I have to admit that it exceeded all my expectations.” You kissed him and said “So yeah, you fixed this fuck-up,”
Oscar smiled into your ear satisfied, with crooked smile. He carefully pulled out of you; both of you were a complete mess. He rolled you onto your back and lay down next to you, embracing you.
His fingers gently brushed a damp strand from your forehead.
“Next time you can just say it instead of dropping hints,” he remarked softly. You felt embarrassed.
“Okay, love. If I want sex I’ll tell you straight, no matter what you’re doing. But I’m warning you—I don’t care what you’ll do,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him without hurry.
“I agree. Even if I’m in the simulator or Zak calls, I’ll drop everything.”
You settled your head on his chest, listening to his heart gradually calm down. His fingers slowly stroked your back. Outside the window it was already dark, and the TV in the living room was still quietly murmuring about cricket. You closed your eyes, feeling the tiredness settle over you. Oscar kissed the top of your head, your temple, your shoulder—small, full tenderness kisses that no longer demanded anything, only gave peace.
“I love you,” he said quietly into your hair.
You smiled, pressing closer to him.
“ I love you too. Even if you’re blind as a mole.”
He snorted quietly and hugged you even tighter. A few minutes later his breathing evened out, and the hand that had been stroking your back stilled. You lay there a little longer, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his body and that deep, sated satisfaction that had finally come after two days of hunger.
Summary: Dean and Garrett recount Logan and reader’s night for them over breakfast.
Warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex, mock moaning???, Dean and Garrett being assholes, Tucker being an innocent bystander, loud reader.
A/N: Little blurb I thought up to tie y’all over until I finally get my next works out. Sorry it’s taking so long, I’ve got major writers block. And I just finished The Pitt and I’m obsessed with Garren Howell and Dennis Whitaker.
“There they are!” Dean exclaims, his signature mischievous smirk spread wide and smug across his face.
Him and Garrett are sat at the kitchen table in the Hockey House, both shirtless and in sweatpants that hung way too low on their waist for your liking. Tucker was already dressed for the day and busy making breakfast for the house.
You and Logan continued your way into the kitchen, both still in your pyjamas and hands intertwined, now slightly more cautious after Deans comment.
“Some night you guys had.” He added.
“Dude-” Tucker tried to silence the inevitable douchey statement Dean was going to make, ever the peace keeper.
“What?” You asked, your face starting to burn with embarrassment.
“What the fuck are you talking about man?” Logan quipped, already fed up with his roommates antics.
Garrett and Dean shared a knowing look, devilish smirks spreading across their lips like wildfire.
“Y’know, your night last night? Must’ve been fun.” Garrett added.
You and Logan looked at each other in immense confusion before looking back at the two at the kitchen table.
“Care to elaborated?” You retorted bluntly.
“No! You do not want them to-” Tucker attempted to warn you before Dean cut in, banging his fist against the table rhythmically and tilting his head back.
“Oh, Logan! Oh, Logan!” He mimicked your moans in a dramatically high pitched voice.
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Garrett joined in in mocking your cries of pleasure from the previous night.
“Oh my god-” you nearly shouted, burying your face in your hands and turning to hid in Logan’s chest.
“Seriously guys? Don’t be an asshole.” Logan snapped.
“Dude, your girl if fuckin’ loud.” Garrett laughed.
“I’d say be gentle but, clearly she likes being murdered by your-”
“Oh my god!” Your shriek of humiliation cut off Dean’s comment as you practically bolted back up the stairs and into Logan’s room.
“Do you always have to be such a dick?” Logan asked Dean before making his way upstairs to comfort you.
“Hard not to be when yours is keeping the whole campus up.” Dean added under his breath.
“Shut up and eat your fucking pancakes.” Tucker retorted.
Summary: you and Garrett have been dating for a while now. But you kept your relationship a secret because of your brother. But it was harder to keep it a secret than you thought it will be.
Or the five times you almost got caught and the one time you did. Based on this request.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, explicit language, secret relationship, jealous Garrett, kissing, making out, shower sex, p in v, unprotected sex, Logan is angry and disappointed (lmk if I missed something)
Word count: 6382
Author's note: I got a little carried away writing this one. But I enjoyed writing it, and I kinda like how it turned out. So, I hope you all will like it too.
Author's note2: not proofread. Also English is not my first language so maybe there will be mistakes.
Garrett Graham Masterlist
Off Campus Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Dating Garrett Graham, the Briar hockey's team captain was probably not a smart choice from you. Not because he was known that he doesn't do girlfriends. No. That was not a problem. Garrett proved multiple times that he's serious about you. The problem was that he was your brother, John Logan's best friend. Well, that would also not be a problem if you wouldn’t have got together behind his back. You have been sneaking around for months and never said a word to him. That's why he was so mad when he found you in Garrett's bed. Naked. What Logan didn't know was that he almost caught you two multiple times before. He almost found out about your relationship five times. And that one time, he actually did caught you two.
The first time was at the locker room after hockey practice. Garrett took more time showering than he used to on purpose, waiting till the others left. While you were waiting outside of the hockey arena, just walking around aimlessly. Luckily, no one paid attention to you, not even your brother, Logan, who spotted you, but he just walked to his car and left without saying anything to you.
After every guy left, you waited a few more minutes then simply walked into the arena, and you made your way to the boys locker room. There you saw Garrett's clothes on a bench and heard the shower running. A small smile appeared on your lips as you stripped your clothes off and hid them under Garrett's clothes, just in case. The shower was already running, water droplets running down his body as you joined him. As you sneaked up behind your boyfriend, Garrett's back and wrapped your arms around him from behind.
"Baby..." he said and turned around to face you "What took you so long to get here?" he asked and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. While your hands wandered up his body and your arms sneaked around his neck.
"Your teammates took so long to leave" you explained "I couldn't risk it. They saw me walking outside aimlessly anyway. They would know if I just walk in"
"Makes sense" he said as his hands went from your waist to your ass and he lifted you. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and you felt how hard he's already "I missed you" he whispered before he pressed his lips against.
"I missed you too" you whispered back and he deepened the kiss.
His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, seeking for entrance which you gave him by parting your lips and your tongues met halfway. One of your hands went to his wet hair, tugging on it which earned a groan from him. He adjusted you in his arms to line his aching cock at your entrance.
"Fuckk... you're so wet, baby" he muttered against your lips as he teased your entrance with his tip.
"Please don't tease. I need you" you whispered between kisses and who is he to deny his girl's desires.
He pushed inside you with one trust which made you moan into his mouth. Your moan just spurred him on as he backed you against the shower wall and immediately started moving inside you, not even giving you time to adjust. Your moans, his groaned and the sound of skin slapping against skin were echoing from the shower walls.
He started trailing kisses down your neck, and you tilted your head back giving him more access. The water was still falling from the shower rose, hitting your face while he was moving inside you and your hand tugged on his hair more firmly.
You felt as your orgasm built, the knot in your stomach getting tighter, ready to snap at any moment as you were getting closer to the edge. Your walls clenched around him, letting him know that you're close but he was just as close as you were. And you knew it because you felt him twitching inside you.
"Garrett..." you breathed out between moans.
"I know, baby... I know" he groaned, knowing what you're about to say.
But before you could finish, you heard the door open to the locker room. Garrett stilled inside you when he heard the door open and someone walking in.
"G... you still here?" you heard Logan's voice and you prayed to all gods that he won’t walk in here.
"Uhmm... yeah" Garrett answered as he quickly set you down and pulled out of you. You whined at the loss of contact, and you had to lean against the wall because your legs forgot how to work properly.
Garrett took a look at you then quickly grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around his waist. He was still hard and the towel did nothing to his arousal, but he walked out to Logan anyway. Because he knew if he won’t then Logan gonna come to the showers and see you, and you two would get caught.
"Why are you here?" Garrett asked.
"I left something here. Why are you still here?" Logan asked back.
"No reason. Just enjoying a shower after hard practice" he lied. Logan nodded and even though he noticed Garrett's erection he didn't comment on it.
"Okay... you coming then?" Logan asked.
"No. You can go. I'll catch up to you all later" Garrett said and after another nod Logan left. Garrett let out a sigh of relief then he walked back to you and handed you a towel.
"Maybe, we should continue this somewhere more private" Garrett suggested.
"Yeah..." you agreed as you took the towel and wrapped it around your body.
The second time was at Dynamic Duo party. You secretly talked with Garrett that you'll choose something that will give a duo. But also, not that obvious if people saw you and him. That was how your idea came that you'll dress as a bunny. While Garrett will dress up as magician. Luckily, people didn't even though much about it. When they saw you or Garrett alone, they didn't think much about it. They thought your costume is cute but sexy at the same time. While everyone thought that Garrett's just a terrible vampire.
You went along the party for a while. You tried to keep a distance but stay close at the same time so people don't expect anything. Garrett's eyes were glued to you. He followed your every move and watched with who you talk to. But you did the same. You were just more subtle than him. He was being a little too obvious. He almost got caught by Tucker once when Garrett was staring at you as you were dancing with one of your friends.
"Are you staring at Y/n?" Tucker asked, snapping Garrett out of his thoughts and making him freeze on the spot.
"I'm not. I'm definitely not. Why would I stare at her?" he asked and took a sip from his drink.
"I don't know. You're the one staring" Tucker said then left Garrett alone.
Once Tucker left, he looked back at you, only to catch you already staring at him. He saw you say something to your friend then walked towards him. He waited for you till you got to him and he placed his free hand on your lower back, guiding you to the kitchen.
"What did Tucker say? You completely freeze" you said as you opened a cabinet and poured yourself a drink.
"He might catch me staring at you" Garrett whispered in your ear as he stood behind you. His hand was on your waist now and you felt him breathing against your neck
"But I think I handled it pretty well"
"I'm sure you did not" you disagreed and turned around to face him "You're a terrible liar" you said before you took a small sip from your drink.
"I'm not a bad liar" he protested.
"You're, baby. I'm sure Tucker didn't believe you" you stated.
"Fuck... I also think he didn't believe me" he admitted then he saw from the corner of his eyes as a few people stare at you two. That's when he realized that he's standing too close to you, so he took a few steps back.
"How about we just leave?" you asked when you noticed the staring people too.
"It would be weird if we leave together" Garrett said.
"It won’t. I didn't feel good. You noticed. Offered to take me home. Which I accepted. The rest? They don't have to know about that" you came up with the perfect lie.
"Okay. Let's go" he said then waited for you to walked towards the door. You were almost at the front door when Dean stopped you two. Which wouldn’t be a problem if Logan wouldn’t be with him.
"Where are you two going?" Dean asked.
"I don't feel too good. Garrett offered to take me home" you lied before Garrett could say a word, so he just nodded.
"I can take you back to your dorm too" Logan said but you shook your head.
"You already drank" you said.
"I'll do it. I wanna leave anyway. And I didn't drink any alcohol" Garrett said, and you were genuinely surprised by his lie.
"Okay" Logan agreed then you two finally left.
"You really didn't drink?" you asked once you were in his car.
"No. I hoped the night will end up like that. I know probably I'll have to drive so I didn't drink any alcohol" he admitted.
Meanwhile Tucker finally joined Dean and Logan.
"Don't you think your sister spends a little too much time with G?" Dean asked Logan.
"What do you mean?" Logan asked.
"I mean... recently they spend more time together. Didn't you notice?" Dean asked.
"Dean's right. I even catch Garrett staring at Y/n tonight" Tucker said and Logan immediately turned towards Tucker.
"What? You two think they have something going on?" Logan asked them but the two boys just shrugged, which was anything but comforting to him. His little sister and his best friend possibly together? That can't be true. Garrett doesn't do girlfriends. But if they do have something going on you two would have told him, right?
The third time happened at Hockey house where all the boys live. Garrett told you that the others will be out the whole day so you two could have some time alone. Garret should have go to but he cancelled it, coming up with some stupid reason so the others won't ask many questions. Luckily, the others didn't ask him why he was skipping, yet another hang out. They already suspected he has someone. That he has a girlfriend. They just didn't know it's you. But they also knew that Garrett's gonna introduce the girl sooner or later.
So, after the boys left, he sent you a quick text, saying they're gone and waited for you on the couch. He didn't have to wait long since your dorm was pretty close to the Hockey house, so you were there soon. You didn't even bother to know. You just walked in. And as soon as Garrett heard the door open and he was immediately on his feet and in front of the door.
"Hey, baby" he greeted you. He placed one hand on your waist, pulling you to him and with his other hand he shut the door behind you. And before you could say a word, his lips were on yours.
"Hey" you managed to say it between kisses.
"I missed you" he muttered between kisses.
"You literally saw me yesterday" you said after you pulled back from the kiss.
"But I weren’t able to kiss you or touch you" he complained.
"Are you saying you're touch starved?" you asked and laughed a little.
"I'm not touch starved" he stated and his fingers dug into your waist more. Then his lips were on yours once again.
It didn't take long till you ended up in his bed. Sweaty and breathing heavily. You were wrapped in his arms till your breathing went back to normal then he pulled back and got out of bed.
"Where are you going?" you asked as you sat up in his bed.
"I'll make us a bath" he said then he disappeared and seconds later you heard the water running.
Then a few minutes later, the water stopped running and he was back in his bedroom. He walked to the bed where you were, and he didn’t leave you many choice as he picked you up in his arms and started carrying you to the bathroom.
"You know I can walk, right?" you asked. But the truth was, you weren’t sure that you'd be able to walk after the many rounds you have. Your legs were still trembling.
He just ignored what you said as he carried you to the bathroom then kicked the door shut behind him. He walked to the huge bathtub and placed you in the warm water. Which felt amazing. It immediately helped with the tension in your legs, and you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.
Then he got in behind you and pulled you back against him. The water and bubbles enveloped both of your bodies as you sat there talking about everything.
His hands were on your thighs, caressing your skin softly while he was talking about the latest hockey practice. And how Logan forgot the blade protectors on his skates, so he fell as soon as he stepped on the ice.
You started laughing at the story, leaning more against him while he was staring at you with a smile on his face. He always loved hearing you laugh, especially if he was the one who made you laugh. But your laughter died down when you heard footsteps coming up the starts then someone was fumbling with the doorknob. You looked back at Garrett with a panicked expression, but he was just staring at the door.
"Fuck..." he cursed as the door slowly opened and you quickly went down under the water. So, like this you were completely under the water, under all of that bubbles. As the door opened, and the person, Logan walked in, he only saw Garrett in the bathtub.
"G?" Logan asked.
"Hey" Garrett said as he tried to look composed.
"Are you okay?" Logan asked.
"Yes" Garrett said quickly but Logan just raised his eyebrows not believing him "I mean... no. I don't feel too good. That's why I take a hot bath" he lied.
"Alright" Logan said still not believing him.
"What're you doing here? I thought you won't be back all day" Garrett said.
"I left my wallet here" Logan said as he reached for his pants near the laundry basket and took his wallet out of his pocket.
"Ohh... okay" Garrett said and he waited when Logan will leave finally. Logan looked at Garrett one more time then he left and closed the door.
Garrett let out a sigh of relief, and you came back up as you heard the soft click of the door. Now, your hair was all wet and you had bubbles all over your face. Garrett looked at you and started laughing, earning a glare from you.
"This is not funny" you said.
"It is a little funny" he said still laughing.
"I swear my brother has the worst timing in the world. This is the third time we almost get caught" you said.
"Maybe we should tell them then" Garrett suggested.
"No. My brother would definitely kill you if he finds out" you stated.
The fourth time was at Malone’s after another hockey game. As usual you all went to Malone’s to celebrate, yet another win. The guys immediately took their usual seats after they ordered their drinks and now waited as they were talking about the game. But Garrett was only half paying attention to anything what they were saying. He was too busy looking for you. Because ever since the game ended, he didn't see you.
"G... you're not even paying attention" Dean said, which snapped Garrett out of his thoughts.
"I'm sorry. I'm a little distracted," he said as he turned back to the other just in their drinks arrived. So, he immediately reached for it and drink almost half of it "Anyway Logan, where's your sister?" Garrett asked.
"Uhmm... she had some things to do. But she'll be here soon. Why?" Logan asked, suspicious why Garrett suddenly cared so much about your presence.
"No reason. I was just curious. Usually she's always here" Garrett said then the moment, you finally walked in.
The bell rang above the door and his head snapped towards the door. When he saw you, he visibly relaxed, glad that you're finally here. You looked over at him and smiled a little. Then you walked to the bar and ordered yourself a drink. Once you get it, you walked to the group and sat down next to Garrett.
"Congrats for you guys on the win" you said and lifted your glass.
"Thanks" the guys said in unison, and they lifted their glass too. Then you felt Garrett's free hand on your thigh. You tried to control your body from reacting and join in on their conversation. That was until your glasses became empty.
"Alright... next round is on me boys" you said and you got up from your seat and everyone thanked you.
"You're the best" Logan shouted after you as you walked towards the bar to order another round of the drinks.
Meanwhile Garrett followed your every move. His eyes were glued to you. So, when he saw that a guy stops next to you by the bar counter then saw the guy's hand on your waist, his hands immediately balled into fists. You looked at the guy and pulled away from him but then you saw who it is. And suddenly the distance weren’t as big between you and that guy as Garrett wanted. You two were close. Too close. But then the guy said something and you laughed. The real one. Not the one you fake to be polite. It was a real laugh. Which just made Garrett more frustrated. His jaw clenched and he was seconds away from going over. He hated that some other guy was so close to his girl.
"G... are you okay?" Logan asked.
"I'm fine" he grumbled as he was still staring at you and the guy. The others followed his gaze, only to realize who he was looking at.
"Are you jealous?" Dean asked and he couldn’t hide his laugh. Because it was so obvious that Garrett's jealous. He couldn’t even deny it.
"I'm not. Why would I be?" Garrett asked.
"You look jealous" Logan stated "Do you have a thing for my sister?"
"I don't have a thing for your sister. She's your sister. And absolutely not my type" he lied. It was too obvious it's a lie. Even Logan knew that you're exactly Garrett's type. He just didn't comment on it.
"You're so jealous" Tucker said.
"Once again. I'm not jealous" Garrett said and glared at his friends.
Garrett didn't even notice as you returned with the drinks. He only noticed when he finally felt your body next to his and his hand immediately went to your thigh again. And he was just glad that the guy didn't come with you. Then came another round of drinking and talking. Until you got up and went to the bathroom where obviously Garrett followed. Luckily, the others didn't notice because they were too into their conversation.
Just as you came out of the bathroom stall, you didn't notice Garrett first. Only when you washed your hands and looked into the mirror only to saw him standing behind you.
"Did you really follow me here?" you asked as you dried your hands and turned around to face him.
"Who was that guy?" he asked as he stepped closer and his hands went to your waist.
"What?" you asked confused for a second.
"Who was that guy with you? By the bar" he repeated the question.
"A friend" you said.
"Yeah... a friend" he scoffed and his fingers dug into your waist "a guy friend. A guy friend who makes you laugh like that. A guy friend who think he has any right to put his hand on your waist like that" you were taken aback by his words, and you opened your mouth to argue but then realization hit you.
"Wait... are you jealous?" you asked, amused by the situation. You couldn’t believe Garrett's jealous.
"I'm not jealous" he stated and pulled you closer to him.
"You're so jealous" you said with a smile on your face "you don’t have to be jealous"
"Well... you're mine, baby. And I don't like when other guys touch what's mine" he said in a low voice as he leaned closer. He was so close you felt his breath on your lips.
"So, you admit you're jealous" you whispered and chuckled.
"Fine. I'm jealous. Happy now?" he asked.
"You don't have to be jealous" you said and wrapped your arms around his neck "He's not into me" you whispered before you pulled him into a kiss. He didn't hesitate to kiss you back and deepen the kiss. His hands slid down from your waist to thighs as he lifted you onto the bathroom counter and stood between your legs.
"That's impossible he's not into you" Garrett said before he started trailing kisses down your neck and you tilted your head back, giving him more access. He smiled against your skin when you tilted your head back and he started sucking.
"Well... he's not. He's more likely into you than me" you whispered as your breathing grew heavier when he sucked at your pulse point.
"Ohh...." he said and he immediately pulled back "Good to know" he said with a smug smile, and he pulled away from you.
"What? Are you seriously stopping now?" you complained.
"The others will get suspicious if we don’t go back soon" he said and you knew he's right but before you could say anything else, he left the bathroom.
There was only one problem with that. The moment Garrett stepped out of the women bathroom, Logan stepped out of the men's bathroom.
"G... what were you doing in the women's bathroom?" Logan asked which made Garrett freeze.
"What?" he asked but Logan just raised an eyebrow at him "Ohh... Seems like I made a wrong turn. Good thing no one was in there" Garrett lied.
"Yeah..." Logan said, not believing Garrett "Recently you're acting weird"
"I don't act weird" Garrett lied once again.
"You do. Should we worry?" Logan asked.
"No. It's nothing bad. I'm just... seeing this girl recently" Garrett admitted as they walked back to the others.
"What girl?" Dean asked as Logan and Garrett sat back down.
"I won't tell it yet" Garrett asked and to his luck, the others dropped the topic.
"I can't wait to find out who got you whipped" Logan said.
"Who's whipped?" you asked as you sat back down.
"Garrett" Tucker said.
"Yeah? That's interesting" you said and looked at Garrett.
"Where were you anyway?" Logan asked you.
"In the bathroom" you answered.
"That's strange. I saw Garrett came out of the women bathroom and he said no one was inside" Logan said and for a second you started panicking. This was not good.
"I didn't see anyone either. But I did hear someone walk in and a few minutes later leaving" you lied "so that was you? What were you doing in the ladies bathroom?" you asked Garrett.
"I made the wrong turn" you said the same thing he said to Logan.
The fifth time was the karaoke night. You didn't wanna sing that night. You didn't wanna come. But since your brother organized it, you were kinda forced to come. But you were sure you won't sing. Even though your friends tried to convince you to sing.
"No. I won't sing" you said as you sat with your best friend, who was also your roommate by the bar.
"Why not? You have an amazing voice. Everyone would love it. It would get your brother all the money he needs" your friend tried to convince.
"How do you know I can sing?" you asked.
"I heard you sing a few times. When you thought you were alone. Or when you were showering sometimes you sing" she said.
"I still won't sing" you said.
"You should sing" Garrett said as he appeared next to you.
"No" you said and glared at him.
"But I wanna hear you sing" Garrett said with his usual smirk and you rolled your eyes at him.
Well, after a couple of drinks you changed your mind about singing. You were drinking, and more and more people tried to convince you to sing. And thanks to the alcohol, you agreed to finally sing.
"Fine. I'll sing" you said after you finished your fourth drink and everyone cheered.
You get up from your bar stool and walked towards the mini stage. You gave the person there what you wanna sing then stepped on the stage.
"This is for you, baby" you said, pointing at Garrett before the music started and suddenly every head turned towards him.
"Why does my sister mean that this song is for you?" Logan asked Garrett as he was standing next to him.
"I have no idea" Garrett told him which was only a half lie. He was just as surprised by your words as everyone else. He didn't expect that you'll do that or say that. He didn't think that you might expose your secret. But he knew it's because of the alcohol.
Then the music started and you started singing 'I wanna be yours' by Artic Monkey. Garrett knew why you choose this song. This was your song. So, the fact that you choose this despite everything made him smile. Besides you had an amazing voice. Only one person wasn’t amused. And that person was your brother, Logan. His gaze was switching between you and Garrett. What you were singing while you were only looking at Garrett and how Garrett were looking at you. His eyes were full of adoration and the smile on his face. It should've been obvious that there's something going on between you two. It was obvious that there's something between you two. Logan just didn't wanna accept it yet.
"Okay... you two recently act weird. Is something going on that I don't know about? Is my sister your mysterious girlfriend?" Logan asked Garrett, snapping him out of his staring.
"No. There's nothing going on between me and your sister. She's definitely not my girlfriend. Why?" Garrett asked Logan and looked back at you.
"You two look at each other like you're in love with each other. And that song. Dedicated to you" Logan said his eyes going between you and Garrett as the song came to an end.
"I have no idea why she chose that song and why she dedicated it to me" Garrett lied.
"I don't really believe you" Logan started and he wanted to say something else, but you walked up to them.
"Take me homee" you said to Garrett who just looked at Logan.
"Go. But we're far from done with this conversation" Logan stated and Garrett nodded. But deep down he was glad that you interrupted the conversation because he couldn’t have explained it to Logan otherwise.
"Let's go, baby" he whispered in your ear and placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the door while Logan kept a close eye on you two. Once you were outside Garrett spoke up again "You almost exposed our secret, baby"
"I'm sorry" you said.
"It's fine. You were the one who wanted to keep this a secret" he said "But I have to admit I really like your song choice. And I was right"
"Right about what?" you asked.
"That you have an amazing voice" he answered and you would've rolled your eyes on him of you weren’t drunk.
The one time they got caught was the morning after the karaoke party. You were really drunk and you didn't want to go back to your dorm. You wanted to go to Garrett's place. And you asked him so nicely that he couldn’t say no to you. Most of the times he can't say no to you. That's how you ended up that night at the hockey house. After he hardly got you into car, he drove back to the hockey house. You didn't even wait for him as you got out of his car and just walked towards the front door which was unlocked for some reason, so you just let yourself in. As you walked towards Garrett room. Your body automatically took you there. But till you get into his room, most of your clothes were discarded which Garrett had to collect, so nobody will notice. Then he arrived into his room and saw you sitting on his bed, only in your lingerie set. He even made a mental note to himself that you look really sexy like this.
"I want you" you said as you stared at him.
"No, baby" he said.
"What do you no? Yes. I want you" you repeated and got up to walk to him. You stopped right in front of him and looked up at him "you don’t want me?"
"I do. I want you too, baby. But you're drunk" he stated.
"So? It doesn't change anything. I still want you. And I'm your girlfriend anyway. You have consent and everything" you said and reached for his shirt to pull it off him, but he caught your wrist halfway to stop you.
"Still no. I'm not gonna do this. I'm not gonna fuck you while you're this drunk" he said then he gently back you till his bed and he pushed you down on it. Then he walked to his closet, grabbed a shirt from it and gave it to you. You removed your bra and accepted his shirt which you put on while he changed too.
You watched him move back to where you were, to the bed and lay down on his half of the bed. You spent so many time in his room that you even had your own half of the bed.
"Come here, baby" he said and opened his arms for you. You wanted to be mad at him for denying sex from you. But you just couldn't. So, you basically throw yourself in his arms. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you rested your head on his chest. He just laughed a little at you then wrapped his arms around you. It didn't even took long till you fell asleep.
The next morning, luckily you didn't have a headache. But you were still horny. And finally, this time Garrett didn't say no to you. Especially because he woke up to the feeling of your lips on his skin. As your lips trailed kisses down his jawline to his neck.
"I could get used to waking up like this" he said with his groggy, morning voice which always gave you goosebumps.
He slowly opened his eyes and looked at you. You wanted to pull back from him, but he grabbed your chin and slammed his lips against yours. You couldn’t help but moan into his kiss. Then he pushed you onto your back and crawled above you. He settled between your spread legs, and you felt how hard he is already. But you were just as turned on as he was. Your panties already soaking wet, sticking to your pussy.
He didn't waste too much time, pulling the shirt off of you that you were wearing, pushing down the sweatpants and boxers he was wearing, and ripping your panties.
"Garrett" you scolded when you heard the fabric ripping and suddenly your panties were in two pieces on the floor.
"I'll get you a new one, baby. But now, I need you" he said and leaned down to kiss you again. While he lined the tip of his cock to your entrance and pushed inside you with one swift movement. He let out a groan, and you moaned at the feeling of his hard cock stretching you out.
"Fuck... you're so tight" he groaned and started rocking his hips against yours slowly. You could only moan as he started moving. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper inside you. But this slow pace was torture.
"Faster Garrett, please" you pleaded as your hands ran up his back and your nails dug into his skin.
"Faster? You want it faster, baby? Like this?" he asked as he picked up the pace, fucking into you faster and harder. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans, his groans and the sound of the headboard hitting the wall.
"Fuck... yes... Just like that" you moaned loudly but Garrett quickly covered your mouth with one hand.
"Shh... you have to be quiet, baby. We're not alone. Anyone could hear you. Your brother could hear you. You don't want that, right baby?" he asked and you shook your head. He slowly pulled his hand away from your mouth and placed his forearm next to your head, so he was supporting his weight on both his arms again.
You had to purse your lips together to hold back the sounds. But when he picked up space even more and when he hit your sweet spot, you couldn’t hold back more. So, he had to find a different way to shut you up.
He pressed his lips against yours, swallowing your moans while you were scratching down his back. Sweat was covering both of your bodies, and you felt as you're getting closer to the edge because with every trust, he hit your g-spot.
"Garrett..." you moaned into the kiss and your walls clenched around his cock.
"I know, baby. I know. I'm close too" he whispered against your hips as he kept up the pace and focused on hitting your g-spot repeatedly. Then one of his hands moved between your bodies and he started rubbing circles on your clit.
"Garrett..." you whimpered as the pleasure became too much.
"Come for me, baby" he murmured against your lips as he kept trusting in and out of you while he was rubbing slow but firm circles on your clit. His words were the last thing you needed. The knot in your lower stomach tightened then snapped. Your walls fluttered around his cock, and you moaned his name as you came.
But he didn't slow down. He kept trusting into you, chasing his own high which was close and he had to bury his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his groans.
He trusted into you a few more times then he buried himself to the hilt inside you as his cock twitched and he spilled inside you. His white, hot seed painted your walls as his cock kept pulsing inside you.
He stayed still inside you for a while as you were both panting, coming down from your high. He waited till your breathing returned to normal then he placed a soft kiss on your neck before he pulled back and slowly pulled out of you. He rolled off of you and pulled you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest as you laid in his arms while he was playing with your hair.
It was a peaceful moment between you two until Logan decided to barge into Garrett's room without knocking. And everyone froze at that moment. Garrett froze. You froze. And Logan froze in the doorway. He was just staring at you two. Garrett, his best friend naked. His sister was in his best friend's bed. Also naked. You couldn’t even deny what happened since after sex, you didn't bother to cover yourselves. But now, you quickly grabbed the bedsheet to cover yourself.
"What the fuck?" Logan shouted.
"It's not what it looks like" Garrett said.
"Not what it looks like. For me it looks like that my best friend is fucking my sister behind my back" Logan stated.
"Okay. Maybe it's what it looks like" Garrett admitted.
"We can explain" you said.
"How long? How long have you two been doing this? How long have this been going on behind my back?" Logan asked and he genuinely looked disappointed. A little mad but mostly disappointed which was ten times worse.
"A few weeks" Garrett admitted.
"A few weeks?" Logan asked "and you two never told me. You two decided to lie straight to my face"
"I asked Garrett to keep it a secret. I was scared you wouldn’t take it well" you said quietly.
"You know... I'm more disappointed in you than I am Garrett. I thought we agreed to tell each other everything" Logan said to you.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you" you said and looked away from your brother. You couldn’t keep looking at him.
"The thing is... I wouldn’t have mind this. I wouldn’t have mind that you're together. If you told me. But you didn't. You decided to lie to me instead" Logan said then he left the room and shut the door behind him.
"He hates us" you stated as you stared at the door.
"No. He doesn't. Probably he hates me. But he definitely doesn't hate you. He's just mad" Garrett said, trying to comfort you.
"He's disappointed. That's worse" you said.
"He'll accept it. It was just probably too much for him right now" Garrett said and wrapped his arms around you to pull you into a hug.
"Do you think he'll ever forgive us?" you asked and looked up at Garrett.
"Definitely. He just needs time to process it right now. But he'll forgive us. For you? Definitely. For me? Probably not that easily. But I'll deal with that" Garrett said and kissed your forehead.
☆ warnings: reader fucks osc in his sleep, osc returns the favour when he wakes up before her. needy!osc x needy!reader, mutual somno, unprotected p in v, praise, slight objectification, switchy, osc is a whiny horny mess ⋆ inspo: (x) (x) (x)
⋆ ‧ ⋅ ☾ ‧ ⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ‧ ⋅
it’s winter break. oscar is asleep.
so much is demanded from osc. the noise, the pressure. the expectation of performance. so in winter break, sleep takes over oscar so easily. he's knocked out.
he just lets go and rests.
but it’s been too long. too long since you enjoyed him.
you lie beside him in bed. you can see the tension melt out of his body. his breathing low and steady. he's properly asleep. one arm is draped over his head. the other rests near your waist, not quite touching you. he reached out for you out of habit but fell asleep like that. he looks soft. warm and sensitive.
you lie there staring at him for awhile. you don't move.
there’s something about the way he looks when osc is sleeping. he’s completely unguarded. it makes your thoughts narrow. makes your thoughts filthy. you tell yourself you’re just keeping him company. finally reconnecting after so many weeks apart. just staying close.
but he's just there, so soft and sleepy. his little lashes resting against his cheeks. mouth slightly parted. his bunny teeth peeking out. fuck, he looks so pretty like this.
you need him.
you shift closer. just a little. testing.
he doesn’t move.
your fingers trace his skin. slow, claiming. you don’t touch him to wake him. you touch him just because you can.
because he’s yours.
the entitlement feels obscene and so delicious, all at once.
your hand is resting on him. his body responds immediately. not waking, but not ignoring you either. he lets out a small sound in his sleep. he subtly shifts closer.
your breath hitches when you notice. you give him time. some space to pull away.
he doesn’t.
so you climb over him. careful and unhurried. you don’t want to wake him, he deserves to rest. you just can’t help taking what you also deserve. you settle your weight exactly onto his bulge. he exhales softly. his body is reacting to you, but his mind stays hazy. it’s instinctual. his hand twitches against the sheets. it’s his tiny tell. he wants this.
you smile.
“always so responsive, osc. you always want me.” you murmur.
you take your time.
you drag your cunt back and forth on his clothed cock.the anticipation feels heavy. the friction feels amazing. after a few drags, you take his cock out. he’s so hard. so fucking pretty. his cock is this unmistakable sign that he wants you just as badly as you want him. even when he's so out of it. he always wants you. and you want him.
you push your underwear to the side. you sink on his cock. fuck. your cunt fits around his cock so nicely. so warm and wet. oscar whines.
you start to move slowly. every little bounce draws another subtle reaction from him. a stuttered breath, a low sound caught in his throat. he doesn’t wake up, but his body answers you anyways. he’s so honest. so fucking good for you.
that’s what gets to you.
the way oscar gives in to whatever you need from him. whatever you want from him. you know he loves it just as much.
oscar senses warmth. a lot of it, all around him. his cock twitches inside you. the feeling creeps into his dream. he’s unsure whether this is reality or a horny thought. his breath is hitching. muscles tightening and loosening. you keep using his cock for your pleasure. you keep riding him.
he stretches your cunt so fucking well.
you lean down, pressing your mouth to his neck. you suck lightly on his pale skin. you want to mark him, claim him. your hips keep rocking on his cock. slow and gentle, taking what you need. his brows furrow. soft, confused sounds keep slipping from his lips. he’s almost awake, just not quite yet.
you don’t stop. you keep fucking yourself onto his cock. you’re indulging your own craving. so greedy, so certain. he looks so fucking pretty like this. used. taken apart in his sleep. giving you whatever you need.
and god, you need more of him.
he shifts. his hips respond to you before his eyes even open. he's fucking up into you. slowly, but surely. his hand lifts, hovering over your hips. he’s not sure know what to do with it. his eyes open slowly.
“osc,” you moan softly. you don't want to startle him. so sweet.
his eyes blink open slowly. unfocused. pretty lashes fluttering. it takes a moment for everything to settle in for osc. he sees you above him. on him. your tits bouncing, your hips rocking. so pretty and determined. so needy for him.
his face goes pink immediately. he murmurs something incoherent. a whine, a whimper.
you don’t answer. you rest your hands more firmly on his chest. you fuck him harder. bouncing up and down the length of his cock. his cockhead repeatedly bruising your sweet needy spot. you’re chasing your own pleasure. you’re letting him feel it. feel you.
realisation hits him all at once.
his breath catches, all sharp and dizzy. not fear or confusion. just pure awe. his hands tighten on your hips. there’s a flicker of something so shy in his eyes. it makes your stomach tighten.
“oh. you… wanted me this badly?” he sincerely asks. he's almost embarrassed, so fucking adorable.
you pause.
you give him the chance to pull away. he doesn’t. his eyes stay on you. shifting his gaze between your face and where his cock is filling you up so nicely. his eyes widen.
you lean down. you kiss his jaw.
“go back to sleep, osc.” you tell him gently. “ i can take care of it myself.”
the sound he makes is helpless. he melts.
he tries to nod. slow and careful. he tries to relax. so pliant, so exhausted. his body is so willing before his brain can even catch up. his hands fidget at your sides. osc seems unsure whether he’s allowed to touch. you press them down, pinning them softly into the bed.
“shh,” you murmur. “you don’t need to do anything.”
so he doesn’t.
he lets himself sink back into the bed. he’s offering himself without any words. there's trust in it. quiet vulnerability. his eyes slip shut again. every small reaction feels amplified. the way his chest rises faster. how his jaw tightens when your cunt clenches around his cock. it’s like a little nudge, a little wake up call.
“...i like this. knowing you want me this bad. fuck.” he softly admits, almost embarrassed.
what a sweetheart. he's so fucking good to you. you keep taking what you want.
his pubic bone is softly teasing your clit. tingles are running across your back. he’s so fucking pretty underneath you. it all feels so good. the way he responds without restraint. no performance, no control on his end. just raw, instinctive need.
oscar is a little whiny mess beneath you. your cunt keeps hugging his cock so tightly. you keep fucking him. slowly, gently. you don't wanna push him too far. you wanna take care of him, too.
you reach down and play with your own clit. usually, osc handles that. he's always so good to you. even like this, he’s filling you up in the way only he can. you rub tight small circles on your clit. his cock is hitting you slow and deep. he thrusts up into you. you're close. his breathing is ruined. shallow and shaky.
soft little sounds fill your bedroom. oscar's whimpers. oscar's cock is fucking into your wet cunt. your brain can only focus on oscar. how good oscar’s cock feels inside you. how good oscar looks all ruined under you.
and that's it. fuck.
a deep, warm tingle spreads across your whole body. not sharp, not overwhelming. just comforting. a sense of relief. you came around his cock.
he smiles. it's soft and small, but he fucking smiles. you notice it. maybe he's not so out of it as much as you thought. he looks proud. satisfied. he took care of you in his own sleepy way.
you collapse against him, laying on his bare chest. he drifts back to sleep, pulled again by his initial exhaustion. you drift off too, still wrapped around him. calm and satiated.
──── ☆☆☆
morning light comes through. night and day shift, and so do your roles.
light filters in through the curtains. oscar wakes up slowly. his body feels heavy and spent. oversensitive.
he groans quietly. he freezes. memory hits him all at once. the memory of you being so needy and determined to have his cock. you rode him whilst he was asleep. you clenched around his cock whilst he was asleep. you fucked him until you came around his cock.
heat floods his face. but the memory of last night still doesn’t leave him. how you touched him without hesitation. the certainty in your gentle voice. how you needed him so fucking badly.
you’re still asleep beside him. mouth parted, hair messy. innocent and untouched. as if you weren’t the one that utterly ruined him last night.
he lies awake beside you, staring at the ceiling. heart pounding too fast. he’s trying to push the thoughts away. but the memory just won’t leave his brain. it’s filthy. it’s hot. he tells himself to go back to sleep. but he just can’t. his cock hurts. the urge is overwhelming.
he shifts closer. careful and hesitant.
his hand hovers above you before he lets himself touch you. he then gives himself the permission he knows you already gave him. the kind of permission he gave you last night. it’s unspoken but clear.
oscar’s morning need is different from yours. less indulgent, more feral. sharper, more desperate. he can feel it coiled low in his stomach. it’s driving him forward before he’s fully awake enough to argue with himself.
he shifts even closer. gets bolder when you don’t move. his breath tickles your skin. his hands settle at your hips. you sigh softly.
that cute sound almost made him lose himself right there and then. you’re still bare, reminding him of how you used him for your own pleasure. he gets needier the more he thinks about it. oscar’s brain is only focused on how good you felt wrapped around him. no other thoughts, just the warm wet feeling of your cunt.
fuck. without thinking, he takes his cock out of his boxers.
“i’m sorry… i just- fuck, i need you.” he whispers, barely audible.
he's so hard, leaking already. he teases your clit with his cockhead. you’re asleep, but you still deserve to feel good underneath him. and your clit is just always so sensitive for him. he always wants to treat you so well. he presses his cock between your folds. just enough to test.
a needy soft whine escapes your lips.
“fuuuuck…” osc whines to himself.
he pushes his cock inside you. your cunt is so warm. so fucking welcoming. he’s not patient anymore. he starts fucking you. his thrusts are fuelled by instinct. guided by hunger. not a single thought in oscar’s horny needy brain. he’s lost in your cunt. just fucking into you, shamelessly. rutting into you.
he’s feeling so guilty. so ashamed. so pathetic.
“fuck fuck fuck…baby, im sorry. fuck, it’s so soo fucking good…” he’s rambling.
his cock keeps thrusting into you. rapid and shallow. osc is too lost in your cunt to try and make it last long like usual. what a feral mess. he’s not even able to stay quiet anymore. your cunt is making him too stupid. osc can’t stop himself from chasing the friction. chasing the relief. he glances at you, checking for any signs of discomfort.
there aren’t any. he fucks into you harder.
you lean closer to him in your sleep. you’re seeking him and his cock even when asleep. you’re such a pretty slut for him. your body welcomes everything oscar gives you. and fuck, does that ruin him completely.
it’s all the encouragement he needs.
“fuck. you want me. even like this, you still want me.” awe and perverted horniness all tangled in his words.
he’s chasing his own high. not careless, oscar is never careless with your pretty body. fuck, he’s so grateful to you. grateful for how sweet you are to him. how sweet your cunt tastes. how well your cunt squeezes his cock.
fuck. he wants to breed you in your sleep.
he buries his face into your neck, breathing you in. your scent pushes him to the edge. it makes him worse. his thrust turn needier, more uneven. he has blushy cheeks and messy hair. he can’t stand it anymore. the guilt of using your tight cunt whilst you’re so peacefully asleep. the pure pleasure each time his cock drives into your cunt, stretching you out to fit him so tightly.
but the guilt fades quickly. it’s drowned by the memories of you being so fucking slutty earlier. you couldn’t even control yourself, you needed his cock. you fucked him in his sleep. you rode him until your cunt milked his cock. he deserves to use your cunt. oscar deserves to use your body to make himself feel good, too. he buries his face in your shoulder and keeps wrecking your needy hole.
it’s just feels so right. so warm, so tight.
“so so so good. fuckkkk. way too fucking good. holy shit.” he’s a pathetic mess.
you’re feeling yourself being held too tightly. not uncomfortable. just owned, used. you don’t open your eyes. you don’t need to.
oscar is not hiding how much he wants you. you feel it in the way his hips snap forward. his hands roam all over your tits. his body is doing all the work, his brain lost in that stupid horny daze.
“osc…” you murmur softly.
he freezes the second he realises you’re awake.
“oh shit. i-” he starts, mortified. “i’m so fucking sorry… i didn’t mean to wake-“
“fucking me in my sleep? god, osc. you learn so quickly.”
he exhales. your words pushed him too close, too quickly. he pulls out of your warm cunt and taps his cockhead on your clit.
“i just couldn’t stop thinking about last night.” voice so primal yet almost apologetic.
you thread your fingers into his hair. holding him right where he is. he winces. you tug on his hair, and he immediately fucks his cock into you again. you want him. no words needed.
the relief on his face is immediate. devastating. his control is all gone. he fucks into you harshly. frantic and needy. as if he’s afraid you’ll change your mind soon. breath stuttering. hips snapping into you with clear purpose.
“fuck, osc. don’t stop. please, don’t.”
“i feel ridiculous,” he rambles under his breath. “like i need you more than i should. balls deep inside you and i still fucking need more of you.”
you smile into the pillow. “good. use me.”
holy fucking shit. that does it.
with a low and wrecked groan, his grip tightens all over you. he’s making up for all the days he’s been held back. all the days he had to jack off to you in shitty hotel bathrooms.
you wrap your legs around his waist. his eyes are glassy, completely gone. he’s completely lost in your cunt. you’re letting him take what he needs. what he deserves.
“such a mess pretty mess, all needy like this.” you tease softly, thumbs brushing his cheeks.
he nods helplessly. such a good boy. cheeks flushed, eyes bright. skin glistening with warmth.
“you just feel so fucking good. want you so so bad.” he admits.
there’s something sincere in the way he says it. earnest, honest. desperate in a way that makes your chest ache and your cunt tighten around his cock. he’s not thinking. not performing. he’s just chasing.
“do i feel good?” you murmur.
he whimpers at that. forehead dropping to your shoulder. cock fucking into you harshly.
“fuck, yes. soooo fucking good. i promise.” he says immediately. “i love you. fuck-“
“i love you too osc. love how your cock feels, too.”
“…you do?”
you nod against him, smiling faintly.
“so needy and cute. fucking me so well.” you murmur, fond and warm.
your praise pushes him to the edge. you’re enabling him. enabling his horny needy self. he’s so impatient, couldn’t wait until he stuffs you full of his cock. couldn’t wait until he could feel your cunt squeeze him so tightly. your cunt feels more than a want. it’s a need.
he cums. it’s sudden. you feel the warmth of his cum inside you. he hides his face against your neck. he’s almost ashamed. it’s endearing.
he collapses against you. he lifts his head. eyes soft and unsure. he’s searching your face for any signs of regret.
“i’m sorry for waking you up. i didn’t mean to, i swear.” he admits softly. “…just couldn’t stop thinking about how much you wanted me last night.”
you smile. thumb brushing softly on his pink cheeks.
“that’s very okay. i liked it.”
he shuts his eyes, and rests his head on you again.
couldn’t make up my mind if i wanted to write abt oscar fucking his girl in her sleep, or him getting fucked in his sleep ??? so i wrote both <3 !! it was hard lol
꒰ঌ࿐𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓻𝓫 Logan catches you watching his biceps during his late night workout
꒰ঌ࿐𝓼𝓶𝓾𝓽 ✓
꒰ঌ࿐𝔀𝓬 1,4k
The first thing Logan said when he caught you staring was not even a word.
It was a laugh.
Low. Breathless. Almost mean.
He was on the floor by the foot of the bed, shirt off, sweat running down the centre of his chest, fists planted against the hardwood because apparently regular push-ups were too gentle for whatever stupid hockey-boy conditioning routine he’d decided to put himself through at eleven at night.
Knuckle push-ups.
Because of course.
Because John Logan couldn’t just be hot in a normal, manageable way. No, he had to drop low with his back flexing, shoulders wide, forearms corded, biceps tightening every time he lowered himself until his nose nearly brushed the floor. He had to breathe through it, slow and controlled, jaw set like it didn’t cost him anything.
And you, idiot that you were, had forgotten to pretend you were reading.
Your book was open in your lap. Upside down because nuance and subtlety were flung out the window around the time when his shirt also was tugged off.
Logan noticed on rep thirty-two.
His eyes flicked up first, then his mouth curved, “really?”
You blinked, “what?”
He pushed up again, arms locking, knuckles white against the floor, “book’s upside down.”
You looked down, “shit.”
He laughed, dropped once more, then held himself there, body hovering inches above the floor, biceps full and tense and completely unfair, “You staring at me?”
“No.”
He pushed back up, his breath barely affected- only slightly deeper, more controlled in sharp puffs. His smirk when he returned to his starting position could only be described as horribly cocky, “liar.”
“I was thinking.”
“About my arms?”
You shut the book.
Logan’s grin got worse.
That was twenty minutes ago.
Now your back was on the mattress, your thighs over his shoulders, and Logan’s arms were locked around your legs like he was proving a point with his entire body, “You wanted to stare?” he murmured against your inner thigh, “Stare.”
You could not. That was the problem. Your head was tipped back, one hand twisted in the sheets, the other locked in his hair while his mouth moved over you like he had all night and no intention of letting you survive it. His biceps pressed hard against the backs of your thighs, flexing every time you squirmed, every time his grip tightened to drag you back down to him.
“Logan,” you breathed.
He hummed. The vibration hit your clit and made your hips jerk.
His hand slid up, palm flattening low on your stomach, “stay.”
“Can’t.”
“Mhm,” another slow lick, “you can.”
Your thighs shook around his head.
He loved it. You could tell he loved it by the way he smiled against you, by the way his fingers dug into your skin, by the way he kept making these low, pleased sounds that blurred into you more than words, “Mmm. There?” he asked, mouth still wet against you.
You nodded too fast.
His hand smacked lightly against your hip, “words.”
“Yes.”
He kissed your clit, soft enough to be cruel, “yes, what?”
You tried to glare down at him, but his mouth opened over you again before you could form anything coherent, tongue dragging slow and flat, and the glare dissolved somewhere pathetic, “yes, there.”
His eyes flicked up, “Good girl.”
Your whole body clenched.
He felt it, “yeah?” his voice was rough now, a little wrecked around the edges, "you like that?”
“Shut up.”
He laughed against you.
You nearly came from that alone.
“Mean,” he murmured, “for someone who was looking at my arms like she wanted to bite me.”
“I did not.”
“You did,” He shifted one arm higher, bicep bunching beside your thigh as he pressed you open with his shoulder, “you were sitting there all quiet, squeezing your legs together.”
Your face went hot, “logan.”
“What?” He kissed you again, messy and open-mouthed, “you think I don’t notice?”
Your fingers tightened in his hair, “please.”
That did something to him.
His mouth stopped teasing. The next lick was firmer, slower, right where you needed him, and your breath broke into a soft, useless sound.
“There she is,” he said.
“Lo.”
“Mhm?”
“More.”
He groaned like the word hurt him. Then his arm shifted from your thigh, hand dragging down, two fingers pressing against you, slicking through the mess his mouth had made. He circled once, twice, watching your face the entire time.
“You’re soaked.”
You whimpered. His fingers pressed in slow, your back arched.
“Fuck.”
He smiled, but it was not smug anymore. It was hungry. Blown out. Like he had started this to tease you and ended up ruining himself with it too.
“That’s it,” he murmured, “take ’em.”
Your hand flew from his hair to his bicep, nails digging into the hard muscle there as his fingers curled inside you, “oh-”
He made another sound, almost a growl, and buried his mouth against you again.
It was filthy.
Wet.
Loud.
His tongue worked your clit while his fingers fucked into you, steady and deep, and you clung to his arm like it was the only thing keeping you anchored. The muscle flexed under your hand with every movement, hot and solid and so absurdly strong that your brain, already useless, managed only one thought.
Bite.
You did, mouth against the thick curve of his bicep, teeth sinking in lightly because you could not help yourself.
Logan froze.
For half a second, everything stopped. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you.
His mouth was wet. Chin shiny. Eyes dark enough to be dangerous, “did you just bite me?”
You released him slowly, “maybe.”
He stared. Then he laughed, low and disbelieving, and the sound made your stomach drop, “you’re fucking unbelievable.”
“You said I wanted to.”
“I was joking.”
“I wasn’t.”
Something snapped in his face.
Pure, awful heat.
His fingers curled harder inside you, and your mouth fell open, “you wanna bite?” he said, voice low, “fine. Bite.”
“Logan-”
He pushed his arm closer to your mouth and lowered his head again, “go on.”
Your thighs trembled around his shoulders.
His mouth touched you, “bite me while I make you come.”
The sound that left you was embarrassing. He hummed like he liked it and went back down, you bit him again when he did, harder this time.
His groan vibrated straight through your clit.
“Oh my God.”
“Mm?” he hummed, still working you open on his fingers, “that good?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, yes, f- Logan.”
Your hand locked around his arm, mouth pressed to his skin, teeth scraping every time his fingers hit that place inside you that made the room tilt. He kept his pace brutal and perfect, tongue circling, sucking, flicking, then flattening again when your hips started to buck.
You were babbling now.
Not words, not properly.
Just little sounds and broken pieces.
“Lo- yes- there, there, please-”
He pulled his mouth away for one breath, “for me?”
You nodded frantically.
His fingers stopped.
You nearly sobbed.
“Say it.”
Your eyes opened, wet and furious, “for you.”
His face softened for one second.
Just one.
Then his mouth was back on you, and he curled his fingers again, and you were gone.
Your orgasm hit hard, messy, thighs clamping around his head, teeth pressing into his bicep as you came with a muffled cry against his skin. Logan held you through it, arm flexed under your mouth, fingers still moving in slow, dragging strokes while his tongue worked you until you were shaking too hard to keep biting.
“Lo,” you gasped,” too much.”
He stopped instantly. Pulled back.
Pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh, then another, softer, right beside the first.
Your chest heaved. He crawled up your body like he had all the time in the world, mouth wet, hair wrecked from your fingers, a faint red mark blooming on his bicep where your teeth had been.
You stared at it.
He caught you, “seriously?” he said, breathless.
You reached for his arm again.
He caught your wrist and pinned it gently to the pillow beside your head, “no.”
You blinked up at him, “no?”
“You’re cut off.”
“But-”
“You bit me while I was eating you out.”
“You told me to.”
“I know,” His mouth brushed yours, and you tasted yourself on him, “that’s why I’m hard enough to die.”
Your gaze dropped.
He laughed into your mouth, “yeah,” he muttered, “now you notice.”
You lifted your hips against him, and his laugh broke into a groan.
“Baby.”
“Mhm?”
“Don’t start unless you want me to finish.”
You smiled, still dazed, still clinging to his wrist. Then you turned your face and kissed the inside of his bicep.
Logan closed his eyes, “fuck me,” he breathed.
You grinned against his skin, “thought you’d never ask.”
summary ! after you start dating on tinder, john quickly realizes that he doesn't want you to date at all.
warnings ! swearing, slight angst n fluff, smut 18+ mdni, protected sex, nothing too crazy
wc ! 2.8k
author's note ! inspired by me being on tinder lmfao. not proof-read.
to be added to my taglist.
The first time you went on a Tinder date, John didn't think must of it. Sure, he felt a little weird, but he chopped it up to him being overprotective. You were his best friend, and he wanted you safe. So, he stayed up all night waiting for you.
You texted him at 11:51.
Can I come over? Bad date.
Door's always unlocked for you.
John felt guilty. Just a little. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason, he was a little happy that the date didn't go good. Maybe he shouldn't have been. And maybe he was a shitty person, but he couldn't help it.
The love of your life was not on Tinder, he was sure.
So he waited, and you came over, still dressed up and still in your makeup. He let you wear his clothes and you took your makeup off with the spare wipes you had on his desk. You ranted on and on about how disrespectful the guy wason.
To you. To the waitress. To society. It turned you off immediately, and by the end of the night he was still trying to get you to come home with him.
John listened, carefully and closely, humming along and making noises of disgust at certain parts. The guy sounded like a douchebag, and he was glad you had enough sense to get away from him.
The night ended with the two of you in his bed, your phone silenced from the Tinder notifications going off, as they did mostly in the middle of the night. You laid there, before John slowly wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer until you were on snuggled into him.
"Maybe Tinder's just not for you," he whispered.
You chuckled, shaking your head. "One bad date doesn't mean it's not for me, silly."
John smiled, but there wasn't a lot of light to it. He wasn't sure why he was feeling like this, but he knew it wasn't going away.
++
The second time you went on a Tinder date, John felt worse. His chest got a little tight, and his brain kept telling him to talk you out of it. He didn't, of course, because he had no right. But it was miserable hearing you get excited for it.
You were feeling good about this one, and that made him feel worse. He knew he was a shit friend for thinking the way he was, but he didn't want the date to go good. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't help it.
Everything felt bad when you discussed it. But he held it in. He was being supportive. Even if it killed him.
So, he waited, like the first date, all night for you to say something. To send him a text or call him for a fake emergency. The text didn't come until later, but it still came. 12:32.
Well, that failed miserably. You up?
Yep. Door's always unlocked for you.
You looked significantly more disheveled this time around. Your makeup was smeared slightly, hair a mess, and your dress was a little less put together. There was a lump in John's throat. He ignored it.
Again, he gave you some of his clothes and watched as you cleaned off your makeup and brushed your hair. You ranted, again. This time, he seemed decent. A good kisser and blah blah blah—John was feeling a little sick from it all.
And then his girlfriend showed up. Now, John was feeling a little pissed. Yeah, he wanted the date to go bad, but not because you were some second sneaky link pick. He wanted it to go bad because you thought the guy was bad.
Not because he had a girlfriend.
He immediately felt guilty for wishing it went bad in the first place. You were clearly a little sad and shaken up over it, and when you climbed into his bed, John didn't hesitate to pull you closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head.
"Seems like it might be me," you mumbled like it was a joke, but it didn't land like one.
John held you closer. "No way in hell is it you."
You chuckled softly, but it didn't really hit right either. John felt it then, the all-consuming heat in his chest.
Fuck.
That's what it was. He felt like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.
He wanted you. All to himself. Exclusively.
Fuck, he was so fucked.
++
By the third date, John was losing it completely. He was a shell of a person, really. He was trying to be supportive and keep it together, but you looked far too good for some douchebag off Tinder. He was sure of it.
Still, he kept quiet. He had to. He wasn't going to be the dickhead who ruined something for you because of his own selfish desires. Even if they were big and consuming and he felt like he was on fire by keeping his mouth shut.
So, just like the last two times, he waited.
This time the text never came.
He accepted that at exactly 4:02 in the morning. His eyes were closing on him and his body was exhausted, but more than that, his heart hurt. This date went well. Fuck.
He should've been happy. Should've been supportive and all that good friend bullshit. All he felt, though, was this pit in his stomach. Overwhelming jealously and complete and utter despair. He should've opened his mouth.
He should've said something.
He hated himself right now, for so many reasons. He sighed, climbing into bed and putting his phone on the charger as he grumbled inaudible words to himself, tossing and turning as he tried to get comfortable.
He was almost asleep when his phone dinged. His eyes opened, throat working as he swallowed. He was telling himself not to get his hopes up, but who else would be texting right now?
He turned over, grabbing his phone.
You up? I need to talk to you.
John smiled softly, like a fucking idiot who was too whipped to really care how desperate or embarrassing he was.
Yeah. What's up?
The next text made his throat dry. He wasn't sure why, but something felt daunting about it.
Can you come over? Sorry, but this is important.
With a text back, John hopped out of bed and put some clothes on, immediately on his way to your apartment. He didn't hesitate, even if he was nervous and everything felt wrong, he didn't hesitate. If you needed him, for any reason, he'd be there.
He pulled up to your building ten minutes later, buzzing in and heading to your floor. He, like a fucking idiot, waited at your door for a whole minute, just trying to get his shit together. Then he knocked. Once, twice. Then paused. Knocked again. Once, twice.
He always knocked on your door like that. It was a sure way for you to know it was him. The door opened soon after, and John's breath hitched at your appearance. Your eyes were red, makeup tear-streaked.
He didn't ask questions, he just stepped forward, closing your door and pulling you into a hug. Your breath was shaky, your body tense. Whatever this was, John was equal parts worried for you and pissed at whatever happened to make you like this.
Silently, he picked you up, carrying you over to your couch and sitting down on it, you in his lap. He look at you, pushing your hair away from your face. "What's going on?" he asked softly.
You swallowed, shaking your head. "I'm gonna tell you something, and it'll probably ruin everything, but I have to say it. It's killing me."
His heart sped up. The thought that maybe you were about to confess your feelings didn't cross his mind. Instead, he was convinced you were about to break his heart somehow. Unintentionally, of course, but still.
He stiffened slightly, head nodding. "Okay."
You sucked in a breath. "Tonight went really well. Like, really well. I even invited him over." The pit in his stomach got worse, but he stayed silent. "We were literally about to have sex when I sort of realized something. Something that was embarrassing to try and explain to a guy who had his hands in my pants."
You chuckled breathlessly, shaking your head. "I know why Tinder's not working out. It's not because of the douchebags or the lustful losers, it's just...it's you, John. You're fucking...you're in my bones. And this is terrifying to say because I love our friendship, but I think if I don't say it, it'll ruin me. Because...I love you. I'm in love with you."
The air stilled, as if it knew how big of a moment this was. John's body was still as well. Nothing was moving, nobody was daring to do anything. His eyes searched yours, for confirmation or maybe for deceit, but he knew that wouldn't be there.
He knew you'd never just say that.
Words didn't come, not right now. Stupidly, he had none. So, instead, he just leaned in, kissing you softly and deeply like he'd been dreaming of, grasping your jaw and pulling you closer. You gasped into it, following his lead.
His lips moved desperately against yours, not wanting more, just wanting this forever. He pulled back suddenly, panting. "Fuck, fuck," he whispered, swallowing. He had to remind himself to slow down. He wanted everything all at once and he needed to breathe.
He looked at you, smiling. "Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself." He chuckled lowly, and you shook your head, a smile on your face.
"It's okay."
"I love you too, angel. Of course I fuckin' love you," he murmured, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.
You smiled brighter, leaning in and kissing him deeply, tongue slipping into his mouth. He groaned, grabbing your hips and squeezing. "Tell me when to stop," he mumbled into your mouth in between kisses, making it clear that he didn't want anything you didn't want.
"Don't stop."
"Angel-"
"John, don't stop."
He moaned as your hips ground against his, and his lips traveled to your jaw, sucking softly, before exploring your neck. He sucked behind your ear, and you moaned, gripping his biceps, nails digging in slightly. John sucked harder.
In one swift motion, he was standing up with you in his arms, heading to your bedroom. He laid you on the bed gently, hovering over you as he looked down at you. "Are you sure you want this? I can wait for it, angel."
You smiled, hands running through his hair. "I can't."
He chuckled, leaning in and kissing you again, messier this time but no less passionate. The hand not holding him up slipped under your shirt, large hand spread out against smooth skin, giving you goosebumps.
You moaned softly, and John pressed his hips into yours. His lips found your neck again, sucking gently, not hard enough to leave lingering marks, but enough to make you squirm. He smirked against your skin, pulling back and resting on his knees to pull his shirt off.
Your hands came up, nails gently raking up his torso to his neck, and he let out a shaky breath. "You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.
You smiled, sitting up slightly to tug your shirt off, leaving your torso bare. John's breath hitched, and he leaned down, pushing you into the mattress as he kissed down the valley of your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking.
You moaned, back bowing for him as he slipped a hand behind you, pulling you into him as he sucked on your tits. His lips were precise, tongue greedy as he did so. He was devouring you, and he was just getting started.
His lips slowly trailed down your belly, to the waistband of your shirt. His breath ghosted past your skin, tongue darting out to taste. His eyes flickered up to yours, and he waited for the signal. Didn't rush, didn't push. He was content where he was until you were ready.
You nodded, hand running through his messy locks. He smiled, fingers hooking in the waistband of both your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one big motion, tossing them on the floor with your shirts.
He paused, breathing heavy as his eyes scanned you. He licked his lips, hands rubbing your thighs and slowly pushing them apart. "So fuckin' beautiful," he murmured, leaning in and pressing his tongue flat against your slit.
You moaned, head falling into the mattress as he began eating you out. His lips sealed around your swollen clit, sucking softly as his tongue swirled. His hands massaged your thighs gently, leaving your skin with goosebumps and your breath heavy with desire.
He was lapping at you like a dog starved, and honestly, that's what he felt like. He moaned against your pussy, tongue tasting every bit of you he could. "Fuck," you breathed out, hands tugging at his hair.
He groaned, tongue flicking over your clit faster. You cried out softly, back bowing once more as you pressed your hips into his face. He slowly pulled back, your slick covering his face as you both panted.
"Sorry, baby, but I gotta feel this pretty pussy," he murmured deeply, hands going to his sweats and untying the drawstring.
You swallowed, nodding as you smiled softly, a little dizzy from it all. You reached over, opening your bedside drawer and pulling out a condom. John smirked. "Oh?"
You giggled. "Safety first, John Logan. Don't make it weird."
He slipped his sweatpants and boxers off, and your breath left your body at the sight of him. He smirked, grabbing the condom from you. "Nothing weird about safety, baby." He leaned down, kissing you deeply, hand on your jaw as he did so. "I'll be gentle. So fucking gentle, I promise."
You nodded, kissing him deeper, before pulling back. "I trust you."
He smiled, a real, genuine smile. "Good. I'd never hurt you."
He opened the package, rolling the condom on. He grabbed your leg, hooking it over his hip as he lined himself up. "Ready?" he asked softly.
You nodded. "Been ready for this for a while," you murmured, a small smile on your face. He chuckled, slowly pushing in, just enough for you to feel the stretch.
You moaned and so did he, the feeling of you amazing. He kissed your cheek, your temple, your jaw, your neck—pretty much everywhere he could as he slowly pushed in a little more, letting you adjust the size of him.
"Fuck, John," you moaned softly, nails digging into his bad.
"That feel good, angel?" he murmured against your skin, and you nodded, moaning.
He rolled his hips once, pushing in a little more until he was about halfway, and then he stopped, not wanting to push you too far or hurt you. His hips stilled, letting you adjust as he kissed your skin softly.
His breathing was heavy, small moans and whines escaping his lips as the feeling of you fluttering around him. "Feel so good," he murmured. "Fuckin' made for me."
You moaned, and he grabbed your other leg, hooking it over his other hip and deepening the angle. You cried out softly, his hips starting to move slowly, deeply, letting himself feel every rub against your walls.
"Fuck, angel," he moaned, sucking your collarbone. His hips slowly sped up, your moans filling his ears as he made love to you. It wasn't just fucking, it was deeper. It was raw and real and everything he'd been wanting for so long.
"You're fuckin' mine, you know that?" he murmured into your jaw, moving so his eyes were on you. "Look at me," he whispered. Your eyes fluttered open, full of pleasure as you moaned. HIs hips never stopped, never faltered, just drove into your deeper and deeper until your legs were shaking.
"Mine," he repeated, kissing you deeply. You nodded against him frantically, moaning into his lips.
His hand came down, slipping between you and finding your swollen clit, thumb rubbing tight circles. You whimpered in pleasure, head tossing back as your nails dug into his back, spurring him on. "Feel good?" he rasped, hips continuing to hit that spot inside of you.
You moaned, nodding. "Use your words, pretty girl," he told you.
"Y-yes. Fuck! Yes!"
Your moans got louder as your legs started tightening, and John continued, wanting to feel you come around him, needing it.
"Fuck, that's it, baby. Let me feel you."
You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, your back bowing and nails scraping down his back as your toes curled and your pussy pulsed. You gasped, legs shaking as you tried to ground yourself in the moment.
John hummed, moaning against you as he worked you through it. His own orgasm crashed over him seconds later, and he twitched deep inside of you, head buried in your neck as he whined. "Fuckk," he choked out, hips continuing to roll against you, dragging your pleasure out.
You were panting below him, whimpering every time his cock moved inside of you. "Fuck, I love you, baby," he murmured, hips slowing down to a stop. "I love you so fucking much."
He lifted his head, kissing you deeply even as you both panted and tried to come down. You moaned into his lips, nodding. "I love you."
pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader, andrea kimi antonelli x gf!fem!reader
summary: kimi has everything oscar has ever wanted. and oscar knows kimi doesn’t deserve any of it. not the praise. not the wins. and especially not you. so when the envy becomes too much, oscar decides he’ll take it all from him. every single last thing that makes kimi happy. even if that means taking you.
warnings: fluff, LOTS of angst, jealousy, established relationship, very innocent and slightly dumb reader, technically infidelity, toxic childhood!bf!kimi, gaslighting, arguing, yelling, manipulation, possessiveness, kimi disrespects reader a lot, kinda cunning!oscar?, 18+ (minors dni), teasing, p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, public sex, voyeurism, handjob, poor humour // poorly proof read as usual
word count: 12.3k
a/n: based on this request! first piece of my 6000 follower celebration!!! letting you know you may be triggered at many points of this fic and that's okay! 😬
Oscar Piastri had never really let anyone get under his skin. Early in life, he had learned the art of calm and composure. Underreaction had always been the silent winner. No one ever got to him. Nothing really pissed him off. He treated people fairly. He always thought that if he went by the books, one day he'd reap the rewards.
But very quickly into his Formula One career; he had learned that was not the truth. And nor was he as calm as he once thought he was.
In the very same time frame Osar was supposed to be receiving praise and getting race wins, came Kimi Antonelli. The monster rookie. The new Verstappen who replaced the Sir Lewis Hamilton's seat.
It wasn't like Oscar hadn't heard of him. He had always heard of him down the line. The kid in the Mercedes' junior line up. A racing prodigy. A sweet guy with all the Italian charm. When he heard Kimi was racing in F2, skipping the previous level, he had even thought of extending his hand. Sure, you couldn't be friends with everyone on track. But it didn't hurt to try.
But Oscar was sorely mistaken.
The ego-boosting headlines and the compliments had gotten to Kimi. He walked, no—he strode with pride. Innocent brown eyes filled with a disgusting shade of smugness that no driver could fathom. His lips in a constant curved smirk. Complaints and complaints on the tip of his tongue when nothing went his way. The coy downplay of his achievements at such as young eage. How easily he manipulated Toto and Susie to get what he wanted.
It was different kind of art. A sick, satrical version of it. How easy the Italian charm had faded away.
And always by his side was you. Kimi's pride and joy. His girlfriend of three years, always wrapped around his arm.
You... You were the worst part of it all.
Oscar had seen you like everyone else had. You were simply gorgeous. Oscar could never forget how slowly his head had turned when you had first entered the paddock. The double take he had taken along with everyone else, watching your every move.
Everything about you seemed perfect.
Your sparkly wide eyes. Pretty painted lips. Soft, boisterous laugh. Perfectly styled hair. Perfume that made all in your trail dizzy. You talked with your heart rather than your mind. You were a good person. Pure. Whole. Anyone could see that from a mile away.
It was then when Oscar had locked eyes with Kimi, spotting that smirk on his stupid face and that evil glint in those brown eyes. A look of acknowlegement. Yes. It was you next to him. Not next to Oscar. Not next to anyone else.
Oscar would never forget that very moment where Kimi's head had leaned down just a little, lips gliding over your ear to whisper something that made you laugh while his hand creeped down your waist, to your lower back and right over your ass. Fingers slightly while as he groped you shamelessly. And not a second later, his lips were on yours, kissing you deeply and messily, tongue out without any hurry. Like there weren't any cameras on him.
He remembered your flushed cheeks while you kissed Kimi back. Eyes a little wide with disbelief but still you had kissed him anyways, smile apparent on your face. Small hands reaching for his sleeves to brace yourself.
Then there was that mix of disgust and anger that rushed through Oscar's body. He genuinely couldn't believe it. How could anyone dating you treat you like that in public? Like you were a plaything. A trophy.
And that's how it had gone on for months. That superiority Kimi welded with you by his side. Making you sit on his lap at dinners, hands travelling carelessly under the short skirts and dresses he had gotten you. Interrupting interviews just to go and kiss you on the camera. Letting those videos of you and him in the nightclub get posted where you danced together.
And while it seemed like things were all sunshines and rainbows for the both of you, Oscar could see the truth for what it was. Kimi had no respect for you. In fact, he was horrible to you.
Because behind Kimi's handsy fingers and clingy mouth were the arguments in the quiet parts of the paddock. The ones where he would make your pretty eyes cry and then pretended to kiss them better. Where he constantly made you question yourself and belittled you in front of others. Then he'd let your eyes light up with the fake promises of a future together. He didn't really let you talk to anyone either unless it made him look good.
And you had no idea. Simply believing him with your heart. The epitome of 'love makes you blind.'
You were like an innocent lamb in the dirty hands of Kimi's.
It had gotten worse this season.
The consistent wins and praise had made Kimi delirious. If he was careless before, he had not a single inch of it in him any longer. With the whispers of a Championship-winning car and a talent one people wouldn't see for years, he was driven by the foundation of immature confidence.
Perhaps that's why Oscar had heard what he had heard in China. Seen what he had seen.
It was Lando, Oscar, and George conversing between the Mercedes and McLaren garages. Talking about the cars and whatnot while the paddock had finally become quiet after the race. Some teams were still in their debriefs, some packing up. The sun threatening to settle, orange mixed lightly into the air.
The conversation was coming to a swift end, Lando and George citing how they needed to grab their things from their hotel before they all met for the private flight back to Monaco. The two of them had barely walked away before Oscar had heard it.
A deep mewl in the air.
Oscar blinked, brows furrowed as he turned towards the Mercedes' garage. He couldn't see anyone nearby. The place empty with a majority of the team still in another debrief. He would've taken a step back and joined Lando but then he had heard it again.
"Oh fuck!"
Call it curiosity. But Oscar's legs seemed to move on their own, defying the rules of non-personnel entering the garage while he quietly walked onto enemy territory. It didn't take him long to navigate, the ins and outs similar to any other garage. The sounds became louder and louder with every step he took. Yet he couldn't quite discern them.
But when he did, it made his feet stop and his blood freeze.
He stood outside of Kimi's driver's room. It not just any sound coming into the air. It's yours. Hands imprinting onto the blurred iced-glass door, your shadowed figure could barely be made out. Your moans travelled through the glass with bare deviation from the lewd, deep slaps of skin echoing around what felt like his skull.
"Louder, belle. Let them hear who makes you feel this good," Kimi grunted shamelessly. "God, you're so pathetic. This turned on when anyone can hear you. You make a good whore, don't you?"
His chuckle was deep and mocking. And yet, your trembling moans merged into the air.
Oscar could hear it. Your sharp pants. Desperate and needy. "More," you begged. "Deeper."
Oscar blinked, breathing in deeply while he took a shaky step back. Fuck, this was so wrong. He could barely think with your sweet sounds tainted by Kimi's disgusting insults. It felt like he was watching a crime being committed.
The struggle grounded him for a few moments. Not willing to move. But the idea of you reaching any sort of end with Kimi made a thin layer of bile crawl up Oscar's throat. So he moved before he could hear it, feet quick and light.
He was sweating by the time he reached the McLaren suite, mind haywired, breath erratic while he tried to block out those sounds. That was a mistake, right? Something he had come across on pure accident. Yes. That was it. Kimi wasn't so vain that he'd just put you out there for anyone to listen to. That was an accident.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
But by the time Oscar had reached the private jet, he had once again been proven wrong. He was there, backpack slung across his back and suitcase rolling next to him as he arrived to find Lando and George waiting near the stairs of the plane.
Oscar raised a brow. "What are you guys waiting for? Shouldn't you be onboard?" He queried.
"I..." Lando said wordlessly, awkwardly looking over at George who looked slightly paler than usual. Neither of them could bring it up. The mere idea too shameful.
"What?" Oscar pressed, sighing when no response was given. He moved forward, pushing past them to get up the stairs. By the time he was through the door, it had become evident as to why those two were waiting outside.
"Oh fuck. That's it," Kimi's voice flew from the bathroom down the aisle.
Oscar's fingers instantly tightened around his suitcase. His stomach churned with disgust as his brain familiarised itself with the situation once again. The sounds of you against one another was far less muted this time. Your whimpers curling around Oscar's ears.
He couldn't tell what was worse. The fact that the plane hadn't even gotten off the ground yet or the fact Oscar wasn't the only one subjected to this. His coworkers down below. The staff of the plane awkwardly trying to resume their job. All while Kimi was burning your dignity to the floor.
"You gonna cum for me, belle? Yeah?"
Oscar's breath quickened as Kimi's voice tightened.
"Tell me, baby. Who makes you feel this good?"
Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, annoyance simmering in his blood.
"You. You do, Kimi," you sobbed, gasp heavenly with every push forward harsher than before. "Kimi, Kimi—I'm going to—"
A smug moan fell from his lips. "I know, I know. Everyone's going to know how good I make you feel, belle."
Oscar regretted staying this time. He should've left the moment he had realised. He shouldn't have stayed to hear the sinful draw out of your voice nor the useless wavering grunt of Kimi's. Then he wouldn't of seen Kimi coming out of the bathroom, still shifting his pants on tighter, adjusting his zip with you following behind him, red in the face.
Kimi breathed with a drop of sweat worked up on his brow. "Hey, Oscar," he greeted, tugging at his shirt without a inch of shame in the world. He looked past him, spotting the emptiness in the jet. "Are Lando and George still waiting? I'll go them, yeah? Takeoff's soon."
Oscar's lips curled in disgust as Kimi walked past him, shoulder bustling into his before Kimi's hand, still covered in the musk of sex, patted him. His brown eyes flickered to yours, now seated with the imprints of Kimi all over you. Purple on your neck, hands on your bare thigh, poorly hidden beneath your skirt. You were tainted with Kimi. He swallowed, meeting your flustered gaze.
You gave him a timid wave. "Hi, Oscar."
Oscar's breath caught. He was sure that was the first time he had heard his name fall from your lips. He enjoyed the way it rolled of your tongue. It sounded much better than Kimi's. He gave you a hesitant nod of acnknowledgement. He couldn't peel his eyes away from the shame beneath your kind expression. He could feel the judgement pouring from the staff in the cabin. Remember the awkward look on Lando and George's faces. And it was all because of Kimi.
Oscar hated Kimi. He hated that Kimi had everything he ever wanted. An easy fight for a title. The potential to win more races than he ever had in his rookie years. And you. He had you.
Oscar was going to beat Kimi. One way or another, he was going to beat the stupid smug smirk off that Italian face. He would take everything that he had away from him. Even if that something was you.
It was a brief glimpse Oscar had gotten from you. But that was all he needed to stop in his tracks. The sight of you in tears, cheeks flushed, and hidden in behind some corner of the Mercedes' suite. No. That just wouldn't do.
You sniffled, tip of your nose red as Oscar placed down a cup of freshly steamed hot chocolate and sat across you. With a tight, thankful smile, you held the burning cup between your fingers.
"A-Are you sure its okay for me to be here?" You asked, eyeing the unfamiliar shades of papaya around you.
Oscar watched you quietly, nodding unconsciously. He blinked as your eyes drifted to his. The tips of ears reddened as he had been caught. He cleared his throat, nodding more definitely. "Of course, it is. I couldn't possibly have just left you like that."
You swallowed tightly, cheeks pouring with heat once again as you thought about how Oscar had found you just sobbing away. The concern in his eyes had been surprising. You had never seen anything like it before. A part of you wished you had. In a different pair of brown eyes.
Oscar pursed his lips at the silence brewing in the air. He sucked in a sharp breath, leaning forward. "I know it's not my place but... is it Kimi?"
You looked down at the mention of your boyfriend before smiling much to Oscar's surprise. "It was my fault really. I made a mistake. I just thought..."
He raised a brow. "You thought?"
You chuckled softly, blinking through your sore eyes. "It sounds crazy now that I think about it. I thought he was cheating," you laughed a little deeper, sighing as you shook your head in disbelief. "There was the girl and— well. He was right. I was overreacting. I just really thought..."
The ache in Oscar's chest was unwelcome as your voice grew small and strained. He blinked at your sudden smile yet again. "I was stupid, wasn't I?" You sighed, taking a sip of your hot chocolate.
"No, you weren't."
Your eyes flew to Oscar, wide. Your heart thudded in your chest, fear growing like diseased vines. What did he mean by that?
"It's not stupid to ask questions. That's the least you deserve. It's your right," Oscar murmured gently, fingers curling to move the loose tresses in front of your face but stuck at his side.
You pulled your brows together. That's not what Kimi told you. He always said questions weren't important. Useless, really. That only stupid people ask and answer. That's why he acted the way he did in interviews—disruptive and indifferent. But what you were hearing now...
You tilted your head, curiosity swarming through your brain. "Can I ask you questions then?"
A gentle smile sprawled onto Oscar's face as he leaned back in his seat. "You can ask me anything you want, sweetheart."
He watched you hum almost silently. Like you were thinking of all the new options you could explore. And for a split second, he saw it. That sliver of excitement swirling in your eyes. The expanse of your pupils. And it made his breath catch.
"Do you believe in aliens?"
Amusement coursed through his veins. There was something so mundane about the question. Out of all the things you could have asked... But he pushed down the quirk of his lips. "In a world of unexplained things, I think there's room for aliens."
Your brows pulled again, doe-eyes looking at him for a second. Maybe a second too long. Long enough for Oscar's heart to test new unhealthy rthyhms. "That's the most media trained answer you could've given. Nice job."
Oscar blinked at your response, brown eyes watching you stand as you looked at the digital clock that counted sixty minutes to the start of the first free practice. Sixty minutes that required you to be near Kimi. He breathed slowly upon your small smile beaming.
"Thank you for... well, just thank you," you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly. You turned on your heel before pausing, head tilting back to the brown eyes still on you. "Question. Do my eyes look puffy?"
Oscar could've remained seated and told you from where he sat. But he stood, taking those few closer steps near you. The world seemed to slow as he leaned in, inspecting your face from a careful distance. Or the lack of. It was silent for a brief moment. "No," he decided.
You swallowed, releasing the breath you had unintentionally been holding. You smiled lightly. "Good. Kimi doesn't like it when they are," you chuckled. "Okay. Bye, Oscar."
Oscar pressed his lips together, biting down the distaste lingering on his tongue as he bidded you goodbye. His turmoil seemed to linger even when you were gone. Every time he thought he couldn't hate Kimi anymore, you gave him one more reason to do so.
The crowd roared as usual. A fundamental noise that your ears had become used to as you stood beneath the podium and metres away from the finishing cars. It was Silverstone. Classical and traditional. Every driver's dream race to win. And Kimi had done it.
You stood between the neverending Mercedes' team, dolled in Kimi's jacket waiting for for him as he did his final few victory laps around the circuit, basking in the cheers and exclaims pouring from the stadium. Yet, he wasn't the first driver you saw. It was Oscar, cladded in papaya, and the claimer of P2. You watched him down the line, greeting his team. And for a moment, you expected him to sweep right past you.
But someone at Mercedes knew him a little better, pulling him aside with a handshake. And then those brown eyes flickered to you and over the teal and black clinging to your shoulder with an emotion unfamiliar to you. But a smile graced his face nevertheless. Boyish as usual, you noticed.
You returned the gesture. "Congrats on second," you said loudly, hands curling over the barricade.
"Thank you," Oscar breathed, hand dishevelling his sweat-ridden brown locks, lines of his balaclava etched into his slightly reddened face. “If only I had one more lap," he sighed tiredly, reminiscing the hundredths between his and Kimi's finishing times.
You pressed your lips together, smile hanging awkwardly. "Next time. I'm sure of it," you nodded astutely, brows pulled with firm belief.
A chuckle fell from his lips. Cute. His head tipped in agreement. "Yeah. Next time," he mumbled. He took a quick breath in. "I was wond—"
Oscar's words were quelled as the supporting shouts grew louder with Kimi's pull into parc fermé. You both silently watched him remove his steering wheel, topping the his car with his fists in the air triumphantly. His small jump off was smooth after every recent win. You felt his head glide towards you while he inched closer to the weighing scale. Nothing decipherable about those eyes behind the helmet.
Kimi didn't waste a second. Helmet and balacava off. Sponsor watch on. Marching towards the crowd of teal and black. Marching towards you. Aware of every lens following his every move. His stagnant gaze on you purposeful. Gait with a force so casual yet demanding.
Forceful enough for Oscar to take a step back as he watched Kimi's hand, the very one with the sponsor watch, fall to your face and bring his lips to yours. The grandstands and pools of fans around cheer as expected. The cameras zoom in hungrily, too blinded to see the quirk of Kimi's lips. Instead disguised as the loving boyfriend depicted across fanpages and headlines.
But Oscar could see it. He stood behind Kimi, jaw locked, teeth clenching so tightly the pain swells in his gums. He hadn't realised it until Sophie, his press officer, put her hand on his arm to attend the trackside interview, grounding him back to reality. He swallowed tightly, taking a slow breath in and out before turning on his heel, fingers curled tightly at his side.
With every step closer to the cameras and the waiting interviewer, Oscar couldn't shake the image of you two out of his head. This was the very same guy who had sent you crying just a few weeks ago, leaving Oscar to pick up the pieces. Who had the sheer audacity to make you feel like shit just for doubting him.
What a fucking asshole.
Monaco was not home for Oscar. It would never be. Nowhere near as comfortable and easy as Australia was. He preferred the scorching heats and casualness of the people around him. Not the sports cars or luxury yachts collecting dust on the Monégasque waters. This was well and truly just a perk of his job. Nothing more, nothing less.
But just when Oscar couldn't find anything happy about it, a walk outside to get his groceries left him finding you nearby, eyes glued to the clothing store nearby.
You blinked at the call of your name, tearing your eyes away to find a familiar mop of brown hair. The smile on your face was instant. You waved in a way that made his cheeks tighten. "What are you doing here?"
Oscar breathed in, looking around the streets he had become used to, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. "Uh, I was going to get some groceries. How about you? Not in Italy. Well, obviously," he chuckled awkwardly.
Christ... was he always such a loser?
You grinned, nodding in agreement. "Kimi finally moved in so I came to help. Now... I'm shopping," you said, lifting your arm with the few shopping bags you had collected so far.
He suppressed his frown at the mention of Kimi's name. "So I guess I'll be seeing you around more often?" He queried, brows raised with hope.
"Yeah. I mean maybe. This place is a lot," you laughed softly, eyes tracing over the endless cars, stores, and yachts. This was definitely not Bologna or even Milan. Monaco was a in a league of its own.
Oscar nodded. "It's overwhelming at first," he agreed, swallowing tightly as a new thought popped into his mind. "I mean, if you don't mind, I could be your guide when you're here. You can give me your number. Call me when you're around."
You mulled over his offer, surprise light but evident on your face. You never really gave your number to anyone. Especially not any of the drivers—Kimi's rule. But Oscar was just being nice. It would probably be good too. That way you didn't have to bother Kimi.
"Sure," you said, hand reaching out to grab your phone. "Give yourself a miss call."
Oscar's eyes lit up, faint smile on his face as he punched in his number into your phone, letting the call linger briefly. Satisfied, he saved his name into your phone. Oscar :)
"Perfect," you breathed, eyes crinkling with a thankful glint as you pocketed your phone. "I'll let you get back to it then. I still have a few more places I wanna see."
Oscar tried not to let his disappointment show. You just got here. "If you wanted some company... I'm happy to join," he shrugged, hoping that was as casual as it was in his head.
Your eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
"Yeah, sure. I know a few places too," he nodded, unable to understand your shock. As if Kimi never joined you—oh who was he kidding? Of course that asshole didn't join you. And if he did, it would be for him.
You grinned. "Lead the way."
You pursed your lips, eyeing the skirt you hovered over yourself as you stood in front of the store's long mirror. It was a sparkly little thing. Silver. Small. Sequined. Your eyes flickered to Oscar's reflection, finding him standing nearby some rack (as if he hadn't been quietly watching you). “Oscar, can I ask you a question?"
Oscar raised a brow, swiftly moving away from the rack he had been pretending to rummage through. "You know you don't have to ask that every time, right? You can just ask," he grinned, inching closer to you.
"Oh," you pursed your lips, blinking blankly as the heat in your cheeks grew. "Right. Sorry," you smiled lightly, looking back at yourself in the mirror. "What do you think of this?" You asked, gesturing to the sparkly skirt dangling over the hanger.
He swallowed. It was pretty thing really. Made him imagine things he didn't want to imagine. But as he had watched you, he couldn't help notice the light in your eyes missing. Or the frown of your lips. He shrugged. "You don't seem to like it very much."
You fell silent for a moment, eyes slightly wide while you blinked. How Oscar knew that... you had no idea. You sucked in a sharp breath, staring at the skirt in the mirror with a small pout. "Kimi likes these things."
There it was. The perpetrator behind everything miserable and unbalanced in your life. Of course, Kimi liked these things like this. Short and tight. It was a way to claim you in all those parties and night clubs. One hand always on your exposed leg or on the curve of your ass as he practically screamed, "Look at me."
Oscar bit his lip, pushing away the rousing annoyance in his chest. "What do you like?"
The question was simple. Yet it seemed to leave you stumped. Doe eyes a bit dazed. Lips parted. Like you had never really given that much of a thought. And that only worsened the ache in his chest.
You tilted your head, directing your gaze behind Oscar. "I think that's pretty," you murmured, eyeing the semi-long white sundress nearby.
Oscar turned his head. With no sly comment or look of distaste you usually recieved, he stepped towards it, grabbing the hanger with ease before bringing it back to you. "Then wear it."
You pursed your lips, unsurely flickering over the dress. "But—"
"Just try it. You won't know if you don't try," Oscar said, firm yet gentle as he took your previous shopping bags slung on your arm and moved them to his. He pushed forward the dress again. "Go on."
He watched you swallow awkwardly, gingerly picking the dress out of his hand before drifting towards the fitting rooms. He followed after you, stopping when you suddenly turned back to face him.
"Will you wait for me?"
Oscar blinked. He hated how foreign the idea sounded to you. That you actually had to question it because your piece of shit boyfriend couldn't spare one second that wasn't for him.
He smiled warmly, not missing a beat to respond. "I'll be right here. Don't worry."
You nodded thankfully as he took a few steps back, taking a seat while he waited. And with every second the passed, Oscar couldn't help but think of it. The few times Kimi would come with you. Probably when the fans were out or along with the paps. How he'd probably walk around, not paying attention to you. Picking out clothes that he liked. Standing there, convincing you that you liked it as much as he did.
The clothes were just one example. Oscar was almost a hundred percent sure it was Kimi who had gotten you to publicise your socials to get more coverage. Every second post being a photo of you together where you looked happy and Kimi looked like presumptous asshole he was.
Had Oscar spent an unhealthy amount of time looking at your account? Yes. Maybe. But he couldn't help it. It was almost intuitional. The more he found to despise about Kimi, the more he seemed to sink deeper into the world that was you.
"Oscar?"
Oscar blinked, head lifting up as though he had been called by a siren. He found you peeking out of the curtain with a fretful smile. He raised his brows curiously. "Yeah?"
"Do you think you can help me with the strings? Or find someone who can? I can't really do them by myself," you chuckled awkwardly, cheeks slightly flushing.
He was standing on his feet when you called his name. Walking as you asked. Without as much of a fight or resistance you usually experienced, he had said yes.
You breathed in, feeling the narrow confinements of the fitting room become even smaller as Oscar entered. You pursed your lips, eyes darting between anything and Oscar in the mirror. "Just... those ones," you murmured, hovering over the two long strings sitting at your lower back.
Oscar held his breath in his lungs, fingers stretching and curling around the two attached pieces. He told himself he shouldn't look up as he looped each string. Because if he did, he was scared to see what he'd find. But he did.
He wasn't sure what fucked up his brain chemistry more. The heat radiating between your bodies from something a simple as a little knot. Or the brush his fingers over the fabric of your dress. Or perhaps the bob of your throat as you caught his eye. Like he made you nervous. And that thought alone made him warm all over.
He fastened the last knot, watching your breath hitch. "There," he said, voice gruff and strained while he committed the sinful cling of the fabric to your body to his memory.
He kept quiet, observing your eyes drift over yourself in the mirror. He saw it. That missing light. The small look of approval in the quirk of your lips. "Buy it," he simply said. "If you don't, I will."
Your lips parted with nothing quite to say as Oscar excused himself from the room, finally taking a breath of fresh air. His lungs burned as if he had denied the right to breathe with you, happy to let you suffocate him.
"Jesus Christ," Oscar muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He was so fucked.
You swallowed tightly as Kimi threw his phone in front of you, left open with a picture of you and Oscar talking outside the store yesterday. He stood in front of you, arms folded with an incredulous smile on his face. "I called you here to help me," he said chuckled, shaking his head. "I mean... I can't believe you thought I was cheating. How hypocritical can you get?"
You blinked, scatter of red creeping up your neck and cheeks instantly. "I... we were just talking, Kimi. I bumped into him on accident."
The scoff from his lips made your eyes sting. Not an ounce of trust rested in him as much as it did in you.
"Accident?" He questioned, raising his brows with amusement. "Nothing accidental about that prick. Don't think I haven't noticed him being around you more often. I mean come on, ___. Are you his girlfriend or mine?"
You frowned. "Of course, I'm your girlfriend, Kimi," you instantly said, not missing a beat to respond. "Why would you even ask that?"
Kimi tilted his head. "You're asking me that? Then don't do things that make me question you, belle," he grunted, jaw tight. He sucked in a breath when he spotted the thin shine over your eyes. He almost rolled his own. Of course. You couldn't go a conversation without crying.
"Why are you being so mean?" You murmured, eyes brimming with tears, tip of your nose beginning to flush.
After a moment a sigh fell from Kimi's lips. He stepped forward, hands holding you at either side of your arms. He leaned forward, meeting your gaze, brown eyes suddenly gentle. "I don't want to be. You just make it difficult, belle. You know I love you so much, yeah? Don't cry. I hate seeing you cry."
You blinked, feeling Kimi's lips gided over your eyelids briefly. For a moment you felt like your soul had separated from your body. Like you were watching yourself from another plane. You breathed in, sniffling quietly to yourself as he pulled away, thumb grazing your cheek.
"You understand, hmm?" He hummed, tucking your hair behind your ear.
You smiled tightly, giving him a nod. "I understand, Kimi. I won't do it again," you promised, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. "Ti amo."
Oscar hated clubs. There was nothing more uncomfortable for him as an introvert. The loud music, flashing lights, sweaty bodies, and an unhealthy amount of alcohol. All features of a nightmare he's had time and time again.
But he was here. Under the strobe lights, music vibrating throught the floor he stood on while his eyes searched through the dancing crowd. He was here because you were here. A small detail you had slipped into your texts with him recently. A night out with the drivers and their partners.
Lando spotted him first, surprise evident on his face as he came closer. He eyed the blue jeans and black polo shirt his teammate wore and chuckled. "Well this is out of the norm. I wonder why."
Lando wasn't as daft as some made him out to be. Of course, things were a lot easier when his usually composed and calm teammate was riled up by the simple mention of you. Oscar had made the mistake many other drivers had once made. Everyone had seen you once Kimi moved up racing categories. No one was going to deny it. You were a gorgeous girl with a pure heart. But you were young. And that was always risky territory. That fact you were Kimi's... it rubbed everyone the wrong way. Where as everyone saw you for what you were, Kimi saw you as the shiny trophy to put his on his arm.
But no one had tried to go against him. The effort against someone so cocky and arrgoant was tumultuous. Formula One was already bad enough as it was. The last thing any driver wanted was an extra target on his back when they raced.
But it seemed Oscar had willingly taken it up. And it ws going well. By sheer luck or pure talent, he had finally thwarted the neverending Mercedes domination and Kimi's winning reign. With a few race wins up his sleeve, Oscar loomed over the championship leader with a confidence Kimi would almost find familiar.
"Shut up," Oscar rolled his eyes at Lando, returning his gaze back to the crowd. There was no question as to who he was searching for. And he found you where he had expected. On Kimi's lap. His chin nestled into your shoulder, hand over your thigh while he talked to Ollie like you weren't there. And there you were again, dressed in the clothes that your fingers threatened to tug down.
Oscar watched silently as your lips dipped towards Kimi's ear, whispering something that made him nod and made him loosen his grip on you. His own feet moved across the club before he knew it. But he wasn't so obvious, blending with the crowd as you seemed to near the bathroom. At least from Kimi's angle. But from his, he could spot the right turn towards the stairs immediately.
The strobe lights turned red as Oscar walked up the stairs. The atmosphere up there, though still loud, seemed different. Slower and slurred. Crowded yet less chaotic. And in the mix of it all he found you. Sitting in an empty booth, head in your hands, resting on the table.
"You okay?"
You lifted your head at the voice, ears perked instinctively. You breathed a little more calmly when you realised who it was. "Oscar," you greeted with a small smile though you didn't hide your surprise. You watched him slide into the booth, sitting across you. "What are you doing here? This doesn't really seem like your scene."
Oscar rested his arms on the table. "Doesn't seem like yours either," he simply retorted. He grinned at your pursed lips and briefly stoic face. Like he had caught you in a lie.
You sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back into the booth. "It's not," you admitted with a sheepish nod. The sheer amount of eyes and people made you want to throw up. "But—"
"But Kimi likes it... right?" Oscar bitterly finished, brows raised.
You smiled lightly, nodding once again as your eyes drifted across the dancing crowd, swaying a bit more softer to the electric beat. "I came up here to breathe a little," you mumbled. "It's better than down there. He would've found me outside."
It was silent for a moment. Just Oscar watching quietly and you basking in something that didn't have Kimi's name scrawled all over it.
"Can I ask you a question?"
You blinked, peeling your gaze away from the scene and back to Oscar. You furrowed your brows. That was usually your line. But hearing it come from his mouth was humouring. You smiled lightly, gesturing for him to continue.
"Do you like to dance?" Oscar asked. It was a bold ask. One that made him regret it almost instantly. Lodge his breath in his throat as he waited.
You folded your arms, pondering over his question. "At home. Usually by myself. Kimi doesn't really enjoy it anymore," you sighed sadly, corners of your mouth frowning. You had tried asking once or twice. But the outcome was always the same. He was too busy or too weirded out.
Your eyes fell to the outsretched hand in front of you and then to the standing Oscar. You raised a brow.
"Let's dance then," he breathed.
You swallowed tightly, thinking back to the night just weeks ago where you and Kimi had argued about Oscar. About the promise you had made. You rubbed your lips together, looking at him fretfully as your stomach churned. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
Oscar tilted his head at you. "Stop thinking about Kimi and think for yourself. If you want to dance, then dance."
You should've kept your hand to yourself. You should've gone back downstairs. Whether it was those brown eyes staring back at you or the determination in Oscar's voice, you couldn't decide. But you gave him your hand and let him guide you to the floor.
It was a tight fit with the occassional bump of a shoulder or body nearby. Your eyes locked under the flashing red lights as you stood in front of each other. The music you could feel through your heels. For a moment, you do nothing. Just stare at each other.
"Do you even know how to dance?" You asked with a small but teasing smile, eyeing his frigid posture. He was like a frozen block of ice. Unable to move. Cautious of the surrounding movements. The awkward tipped grin on his face told you everything. And it made you laugh. Earnestly and genuinely.
Oscar bit the inside of his cheek, preventing him from smiling too hard when he felt the brush of your head fall against your chest. He watched as you lifted yourself up, amusement littered all over your face. Your hair dishevelled, tresses flying in different directions. Eyes sparkling under the lights. Smile beaming at him. And he could've sworn his heart stopped.
"They say to just feel the music. Move your body," you advised, brows scrunched like you were trying to remember.
He raised a brow. "They?" He repeated with a grin. "Who's 'they?'"
You pursed your lips, shrugging. "Club people. You learn a thing or two when you just sit there."
Oscar snorted. There was something unexplainably enjoyable when you became a little more loose-lipped without Kimi nearby. He cleared his throat. "So... you just move your body? That what you said?"
You nodded, beginning to move your hands. "I think if you imagine yourself like a fish it works better," you wiggled your brows, trailing your hands across your body to the beat thundering around you.
For a brief second, Oscar laughed. But the picture of a fish dancing died in his head quicker as the rhythm filtered through his ears and his eyes fell to you. The world instantly lingered in his head. Siren. That's what you reminded him of. Every twist and turn of your body making the movement of your hair seem like some art.
He wasn't sure when he himself had begun moving. The bob of his chin. The shuffle of his feet. But he couldn't call it dancing. It was more the appreciation of you in front of him. Admiring how lost you were for just a moment in time.
He couldn't believe it.
How could Kimi deny this? Deny you?
To not dance with you was a sin in itself. The mere idea of missing this bright smile of yours... his fear grew stronger.
The gap between you and Oscar had substantially gotten smaller. Like it was the natural order of things. Heat radiated from every angle possible, the air thick with sweat and something you couldn't quite pinpoint.
You hadn't realised how close you were till you felt the glide of Oscar's hand against the curve of your waist. Your gasp was soft and barely audible. But you could feel the small electric sparks running down your body. You flitted your eyes to Oscar hesitantly and it almost made you take a step back.
He was looking at you already.
Darkened brown eyes strained with red underneath the lights. His large hand pulled you a little closer, letting you see the traces of his moles and freckles. Feel the heat of his skin against yours. The press of his fingers. The scatter of his breath. Any closer it would be his pacing heartbeat.
Oscar looked... good.
More than good. Hot. He looked hot.
You breathed in as he turned your body, leaving your back pressed against his chest. His arm curled around your waist. You pulled your lip between your teeth when you felt his lower half press into you. Not forceful or insistent. Just there. Teasing. And for some godforsaken reason, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.
You swallowed hard, feeling his breath skim past your ear. His lips rested close by.
"The dress... Kimi's choice?"
Your thighs pressed together at his tight voice. As though he was struggling. You didn't understand the extent of the heat unfurling in your stomach. You had never felt this way. Not even with Kimi.
You cleared your throat, nodding against him. "Hate it?" You asked, breath shaky when you felt the tip of his nose graze the column your neck. You could've sworn your knees melted when you felt his smile lines ghost your cheek, lips brushing against the curve of your ear.
Your eyes widened slightly as you faced him once again. His hand never left you, snug and comfortably around your waist. Your body burned as he rested his head against yours, brown eyes holding your gaze so carefully. So heavily.
"I was taught that if I don't have anything respectful to say, I shouldn't say it at all," Oscar breathed tightly, jaw half clenched.
It was no ordinary beat your heart followed. With large gaps and ample opportunity to miss as you tried to decipher what he was saying. But before you could, it was Oscar who stepped away.
You struggled to catch your breath, staring back at him with your doe-eyes and your stomach churning.
Oscar blinked, brown eyes raking over you for one last time that night. Because if he stayed here a second longer, he'd do something he couldn't. He smiled at you, tight yet warm. "You're a good dance teacher, ___."
You hadn't talked to Oscar since the club. You couldn't quite bring yourself to. Neither did Kimi really let you, keeping you by his side at all times.
You were confused. You still didn't have a full grasp on what had happened. One moment you were dancing and then the other you were... God, you had no idea. You could just feel him. Hear him. See him. For a moment, everything was just Oscar.
But things had dampened down since then. You ocassionally saw Oscar here and there. You'd look. But you never quite did much more than that. Especially as Kimi fought with Oscar on track. Both contenders for a championship. Both their first. It was like a cat and mouse game. If Kimi won once, it was Oscar's turn the next.
And today, Kimi had taken back that victory chainmail, standing on the podium with a smirk so wide, you almost hadn't recognised him. Nor the extra clingy behaviour as he came off of it, kissing you, hand on your waist, and showering you with sweet little comments.
But you supposed this was why.
To have you all pressed up in the men's bathroom with rushed urgency after his media duties and debriefing. Shorts and boxers slung low around his legs. You propped up against the sink, skirt bunched up. His head tucked into your shoulder, groans and grunts muffled. Hips moving into you with desperation and pleasure.
It seemed Kimi had it all planned out.
Except for one little thing.
The door cracked open.
You weren't sure what it was. Whether he had genuinely forgotten or he thought no one was actually going to walk by. And well, if they did, it was only his ass that was going to be seen.
But you couldn't have counted for the possibility of Oscar passing by and stopping, frozen in his tracks.
Your heart almost stopped right there and then. Your eyes stuck with the brown orbs staring right back at you. Your lips parted. Perhaps with the intention to stop Kimi. But you didn't. You didn't understand why you didn't.
You hadn't been wet for the past ten minutes but now the slick was beginning to pile up. The squelch of Kimi's cock driving into you, lewd and obscene.
"Oh fuck," Kimi swore into your skin. "You're getting so wet for me, belle," he panted, grunting as his teeth nibbled into your shoulder. "So fucking wet."
You could see the bob of Oscar's throat. Like a deer in headlights. He didn't move either. Instead the press of his teeth against his lip made you moan against Kimi's ear. The first sound you had made since you had gotten in here.
You focused on the betraying pull of Oscar's brows at the sweet sounds pouring from your mouth. How his fingers curled so tightly against his side. You wondered what he could see. how much of you he could see. The thought only made you clench tighter around Kimi's cock.
"Cazzo," Kimi hissed, hands digging into your hips. "Doesn't that feel so good, baby? Yeah? I'm making you feel so good," he groaned, pushing deeper into you. The sound of your skin against one another now escaped the bathroom with ease.
You choked on the air, hand falling to Kimi's brown curls while you eyed the flush of Oscar's skin. How dark his eyes were. How they fell to where you and Kimi met, enchanted. And for a moment, your breath matched his. Every heave of your chest... it was like he was guiding you just metres away.
You could barely comprehend the heat in your core. All you knew was it was messy. Juices running down your thighs. So wet a ring of white formed around Kimi's cock as he pushed in and out of you. The soft sounds tumbling from your throat uncontrollably as you watched Oscar's tongue swipe his bottom lip.
Oscar should have moved. Like he had done all the other times he had heard the both of you. But he could see it in your eyes. With every praise Kimi gave himself or you... the only thing turning you on right now was him.
His shorts, unexplainably tight around his more than obvious large bulge, only worsened as he watched your hand move between your and Kimi's bodies. Your eyes never moved off of him. His own lips quirking when your fingers pressed against your desperately sore bundle of nerves.
Because Kimi couldn't get you off.
Oscar could have laughed if it wasn't for the situation he was in. Or for the fact he could see this new pleasure so clearly on your face. Your brows furrowed tightly, teeth sinking into your lip, cheeks red, eyes dazed... he could tell. You were close.
Kimi seemed to be too. Speeding his hips up against yours. Still in his own little fantasy where he was the one making you feel so good. He came quick, stuttering against you with his lust-driven grunts. He was decent though, still moving for you.
Oscar had to give it to him. If Kimi hadn't continued and left you there to fend for yourself, it would've been him taking out his own cock and making sure you saw stars.
It was wrong. God, it was so wrong. You knew it. Oscar knew it. But you had never felt like this. So... good. Still the mix of shame and pleasure coursed through you simultaneously, hand gripping Kimi's brown curls while your fingers pressed and rubbed your clit breathlessly. This was it.
"That's it. Cum for me, belle."
But it wasn't it Kimi you were listening to. At least not directly.
Your hazed eyes capturing the small, encouraging nods of Oscar's head. His uneven silent breaths. And you can see his lips mouth the words.
Cum.
Cum.
Cum for me.
Oscar wanted to fall to his knees as he watched the peak of ecstasy hit you. You were seeing white. He could almost fucking feel it with how tight your body locked up, your lips parted in pure awe. But especially as you ensured your eyes were on him for every goddamn second.
Holy fuck.
Oscar had to step away. Any moment now it would be Kimi turning around. And this... whatever it was, would be over.
The walk to his driver's room was faster than anything he had ever done. He did his bare duties; strained smiles and nods. A brush past the few team members packing up. His door was locked in an instant, back pressed against the wall, and his hand under his waistband.
It was a wonder Oscar hadn't cum right there and then as he looked down at his cock, hung with urgency. His red tip leaked profusely, throbbing with a need he had never succumbed to before.
He had been careful in the past few months. Not to get wrapped up with your name on his lips and his hand on his cock. Because that journey would never go down well for him. But that night in the club... his hand on your waist and your ass against him... it had ruined him. He had gone home, jerking off like it was the first time he had ever felt someone this close to him.
But this... this was different. Oscar's brain was rushing. No. Overflowing with what he had just seen. And he couldn't get it out of his head. The way your breath caught when he had walked by. The honey-like sounds falling from your lips. The obscenely wet sounds coming from your cunt. And the most damning fact of all—you had kept going after you had seen him.
Oscar bit down into wrist, face contorted with pleasure, moans muffled as he fisted himself. His eyes and hips rolled with as much desperation as you had just shown. It was almost mimickable how wet he sounded, shaft and tip just doused in his neverending pre-cum.
He couldn't decide what set him off. The orgasmic bliss on your face or the knowing that it was him. Him that made you cum. Maybe not physically. But it was not Kimi and his idiocy. Your fingers and his presence... that was what had done it.
Oscar's body convulsed, hips stuttering as the pleasure climbed over him rapidly. His teeth clamped harder into his skin, spurts of hot cum coming out in long strings. Leaving his hands and shorts stained with the mess you had created.
Removing his wrist from his mouth, he breathed silently and hard, staring at the idle components of his driver's room.
Jesus. He might have been fucked before. But there was no going back after today.
You couldn't count how many times you had been like this recently. And by this, you meant curled up somewhere and in tears.
You had been a mess since Kimi's race. What you had done... that was so wrong on so many levels. There was no beating around the bush. You had cheated. One way or another.
And it was humiliating. Because that was probably the best you had ever felt in your life. But not because of your actual boyfriend, Kimi. But because of Oscar.
You had skipped as much races as you could without Kimi getting suspicious. You couldn't look at him without feeling ashamed. Nor could you look at Oscar. He had sent you texts. Too many of them. So you had blocked him and deleted his number.
But you couldn't get out of this one. You could see the questions brewing in Kimi's head when he had asked you if you were coming. And you had run out of excuses.
You thought it would be fine. That you could get through this weekend without any tears or any fights. But much to your disappointment, you were wrong.
Kimi's fixation with winning had turned into agitation now that Oscar was taking even bigger chunks of points out of his lead. He wasn't happy with the car's performance during practice. He had given the team hell after it. And when that wasn't enough, you were the next available target.
You had lost count of the type of things he had said to you in front of the team. How you weren't supportive enough. That you never stuck through with him like he did with you. How it was your fault that his car, which you had no connection to whatsoever, was bad. That you had somehow bewitched Oscar into being good.
The message was clear: it was your fault.
Humiliation didn't even cover it. Mortified was more like it. The awkward gazes of the team. The tears ramping up in your eyes. Your flushed cheeks. You hated it. And you hated it even more because it was your fault.
So you sat on the dry concrete in Belgium, between the awkward space of two team suites, head tucked into your knees as wave after wave of anger and embarrassment hit you. Your tears had partially died down, caught on your trousers and shirt.
Your jaw clenched as you glared at the concrete, chewing your lip anxiously. Why did you have to go screw this all up? You should have listened to Kimi. You should have never accepted that dance because then you would've never found Oscar like this. So good. So ugh... you wanted to scream at yourself.
"Hey, hey," a familiar voice echoed into the air, making the hairs on your body stand up. “What’s happened?"
You lifted your head slowly, reddened eyes meeting the concerned brown pair staring right back at you. It was Oscar, of course. Bent down, knees embedded onto the concrete and hands on the sides of your own knees. Your chest ached at the sight of him and yet the anger seemed to roar in your head when you thought about what you had done. You sighed almost annoyed, tilting your head back against the wall.
"Nothing. Just forget about it," you wiped your tear-stained cheeks with the back of your hand.
Oscar's brows mended together at your reaction. As if it was a crack in the perfect glass world you had been living in. "___, you know you don't have to be embarrassed around me—"
"This is embarrassing," you gritted out, hurt eyes drifting to him. "It's always embarrassing that you always finds me like this. Crying like some pathetic waste of space."
"No. That's not true," Oscar murmured, head shaking as he tucked your hair behind your ears. "Kimi should be the one that's embarrassed. Making you cry like this," he said, jaw twitching. He could only imagine what he had said to you. Piece of shit.
You chuckled dryly. "I'm a horrible girlfriend, Oscar. What I did that day... that's unforgiveable.,'" you whispered, eyes tearing up yet again. "I deserve this. It all makes sense now. The paddock was never boring. People don't talk to me because they know how bad I am."
Oscar almost wanted to laugh in disbelief. How bad you were? All you had done was dance a little and feel the best you had ever felt in your life. All you had done was live a little and here you were denouncing Kimi's actions like he had done no wrong.
"Sweetheart, people don't talk to you because of you. They don't talk to you because of Kimi. No one wants to tell you but I will," he swallowed the lump in his throat, chest sore at the sight of your reddened eyes.
You sniffled, confusion visible on your face. "What?"
"That Kimi doesn't deserve you."
Your brows furrowed, affronted in an instant. The memories seemed to hit you one after another. He was your first for everything. First kiss. First time. First boyfriend. First love. He was perfect, wasn't he? "That's not true. Kimi's—"
"An asshole," Oscar cut in firmly. "Someone who loves you doesn't hurt you. Someone who loves you doesn't make fake promises. Or put limits on how you act. Who you can see."
You shook your head. No. Your Kimi wasn't like that. "He's just protective—"
Oscar's hands moved to grab your face, holding your gaze so fiercely, for a moment you forgot to breathe. "___, someone who loves you doesn't make you question yourself."
You fell silent, not bothering to wipe the fresh tears spilling from your eyes. Your brows quivered and your stomach churning. Your heart echoed in your ears while your brain flashed between your altered memories.
It was like watching some sort of stained glass shatter right in front of your eyes. Your perfect Kimi no longer perfect.
"He wasn't like that at the start. I swear," you whispered, looking back at Oscar, lip trembling.
Oscar sucked in a sharp breath at the crack in your voice. Fuck. He sighed quietly, arms wrapping around you and bringing you to his chest, lips pressed to the side of your head. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
"Can you stop brainwashing my girlfriend?"
Oscar looked away from his trainer, conversation coming to a screeching halt. His eyes travelled around the room, ensuring it was still cladded in papaya. He smiled at Kimi. "Are you even allowed to be in here?" He raised a brow, folding his arms, leaning back in his seat.
Kimi tongued the inside of his cheek. He was sure he had never met anyone as obnoxious as Oscar Piastri. "Did you hear me? Stay away from my girlfriend. Or else," he glowered, jaw tight, turning on his foot.
"Or else what?" Oscar goaded, making the Italian stop dead in his tracks and his trainer sigh. He stood up from his chair, eyeing the figure in front of him with disgust. "Kimi, piece of advice. You should probably try treat your girlfriend better."
It was like something in Kimi had snapped. Turning around with such force, the air had bended as he stalked up to Oscar, his breath in his face. "Don't fucking tell me how to treat my own girl," he spat, chest heaving.
Oscar's mouth quirked. "You treat her like shit and come here acting like you don't," he chuckled, shaking his head, brown eyes hard with annoyance. "You don't deserve her. You don't deserve anything you have."
Kimi blinked, scrutinising the man in front of him before letting out a scoff. "I get what this is."
Oscar raised his brows, bored and tired. "Do you now?" He asked dryly, not so easily entertained by Kimi's smirk.
"You're jealous," Kimi deducted, smirk widening with every passing second as he thought back to the past year. His debut compared to Oscar's. "I'm so young and yet I have everything you were ever promised. The team. The car. The wins."
Oscar, the master of composure, remained stoic. Not a budge on his face to give him the true inkling—that he was right. That this was how it had started. But that wasn't going to be how it ended. "If that's all you can think about after treating her the way you do... you are exactly who I think you are," he muttered with distaste heavy on his tongue. "She's not yours, Kimi. She's her own person."
Kimi stood in front of him, unimpressed as his lips parted to retaliate. But Oscar leaned in, lowering his voice to a more inaudible frequency. "And even if she was yours, no honourable man would leave his girl to get off by herself," he murmured with a gentle smile, basking in the drop of Kimi's smirk.
Oscar patted Kimi's shoulder with feigned condolences, heading towards the exit of the McLaren suite. Leaving Kimi to stand by himself, pale in the face and sick to his stomach.
Kimi had crashed. it was horrible. Pieces of the car flying everywhere. The gasp of the crowd. The bang of his fist against the snapped halo. The replay was all you could think of as you finally made your way to the medical bay, eyes glossed with tears, stomach churning, and heart pacing erratically. You hadn't taken a breath until you opened the door, finding him sitting on the couch, icepack to his hand .
You sucked in a shaky breath, feet rushing before you could even think your hands flew to his face, frantically examining his entire body for something that maybe the doctor or nurse had missed. "Oh Kimi," you choked, tears spilling. "A-Are you okay? D-Do you want me to call anyone?"
A piece of your heart broke as Kimi slapped your hand away with his bandaged fist, icepack falling to the floor. He glared at you, disgust swarming in his eyes. "Don't do that. Don't pretend you care."
You kept your hand close to your chest, brows furrowed. "Kimi... what are you talking about? Of course, I care. I—"
"I crashed because of you."
You froze at his words. "W-What?"
He stood from the couch. He jammed his finger into your chest. "This is your fault," he gritted out, lip trembling with pure anger. " Oscar this. Oscar that. Oscar, Oscar, Oscar," he spat out.
"Kimi—"
"You might as well come out with it. Luring Oscar to mess with my championship. How could you do this to me? When I've been here for you since the very start?" Kimi exasperated, own eyes pricking with tears.
You swallowed the bile creeping up your throat as the tears seeped into your cheeks. You looked at him, repulsed and with your brows mended. Your skin ached where his finger landed, invisible bruises already forming. "You're really questioning my loyalty? Once. Only once did I ever question you. After all those signs... the looks to those other girls. I ignored it because I thought you really loved me. And I questioned you once and you ridiculed me. And you really think I did something as elaborate as tricking Oscar?"
"Who knows?" He heaved dryly. "You've changed, ___. Years ago, you would've stuck by me," Kimi hissed.
You chuckled despite the tears falling one after another. "I have been. Every single goddamn day. You’re the one who's changed, Kimi! I don't see the guy who stayed up all night outside my house to wish me happy birthday. Or protected me from the photographers. No. Now... with you it’s... it’s clubs. And parties. Cameras following our every move. You degrade me in front of your co-workers. Disrespect me in front of millions. You show me off like I'm some trophy and put me to the side when you don't need me."
"Right..." Kimi laughed bitterly, shaking his head with utter disbelief. "Oscar doesn't do that then?"
Your face burned with anger, lip twitching. How dare he...
"Well at least he doesn't make me cry!" You exclaimed with an exhausted sob, shoulders heavy and burdened. "That's all you ever do, Kimi. You make me cry, then you love me. You criticise me, then you love me. I do what you want and it's still never enough for you. I will never be enough."
And suddenly, you were young kids all over again. Facing each other outside of school under the blues skies and warm winds of Bologna. Your smile so bright for him, he promised never to make it go away. Eyes so full of light, he never wanted to see a single tear.
Kimi blinked, lips parting for a response but nothing ever came out. Just the croak of realisation as he stood in front of you, finally taking in your reddened eyes, tear stained cheeks, and flushed skin.
It was like a slap to the face.
That was his doing.
He had made you cry.
He had hurt you.
What had he done?
You wiped your cheeks hastily as he stepped forward, hand hesitantly reaching out. Your throat burned, raw and sore from yelling. "I'm done, Kimi. Don't call me. Or my parents. Don't come by my house," you sniffled, lip quivering with disgust. “I don't ever want to talk to you again."
Oscar had recognised your downbeat face in a heartbeat as you sat in the McLaren motorhome, in his room, waiting with a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. A familiar sight. But something was different. He could tell.
No longer could he see the awkward, nervous demeanour Kimi had elicited from you. Instead a frame of exhausted freedom in your sunken eyes. Tip of your nose red and cheeks flushed from crying.
Oscar could tell this would be the last time he'd ever let you cry.
He breathed in quietly, removing his cap as he took a seat next to you. For a brief moment, he didn't say anything. A minute of silence for what was gone. For all your efforts that had been disrespected in every manner.
"We don't have to talk about it," Oscar mumbled, grabbing your hand, frowning at your cold skin. Warming your hand gently, he took in another breath. "Or do anything. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."
You moved your eyes from the coffee table drearily to Oscar, your hand, and then back to him. "Can I ask you question?"
Oscar swallowed, nodding with a perfect ease. "Of course," he said softly.
"Would you ever make me cry?"
Not one second wasted to think when he already knew the answer. "Never," he breathed, moving to tuck your dishevelled hair behind your ear. "There is no world or universe where I could even fathom it."
You pursed your lips, searching his eyes, trying to understand the weight of his words. Waiting for a split second to see if you could find the lies you had ignored in Kimi. But you found none. Just his warm gaze and the feel of his hand on your cheek, resting.
The corners of Oscar's lips teetered. "Was that a good media trained answer?"
You couldn't help but laugh a little, chest just a bit lighter now. You nodded your head. "Nice job," you murmured teasingly, nudging him with your elbow.
Oscar smiled, boyish and gentle as his thumb grazed your cheek back and forth before tracing over the small crinkles near your eyes, raised from your own smile. His chest ached slightly. Happiness looked far better on you.
You watched Oscar's eyes dip, falling to your lips for a brief moment. A silent struggle he decided to shake away. You sucked in a quiet breath, gentle fingers raising to brush over his lips, making him freeze. Meeting those brown eyes, a new shade you had come to enjoy, you tilted your head up and leaned in, pressing your mouth to his briefly.
Oscar's breath caught and his pulse jumped as you pulled away a smidge, shy smile faint on your face. Without a second thought, he brought you right back to him, lips pressed against yours with a barely contained urgency. His nose knocked against yours, head tilting while he parted your mouth with a simple ease.
The air in your lungs seemed to burn, caught and stuck while your brain turned into mush. It had been a while since someone had kissed you like they had meant it. Not for any camera or audience. A moment just yours. Your breath to steal.
You shifted against him, feeling his hand move to your waist in an attempt to bring you closer. The soft noise from your throat made the both of you shudder. The thud against the couch was gentle as you fell on top of him, never quite parting. as though the taste of each other was all consuming.
Oscar begrudgingly pulled away, breath shaky as he rested his head against yours. He swallowed, trying to compose himself. A gentle laugh fell from his swollen lips, brown eyes flickering to you and your flushed cheeks. "I was supposed to take this slow," he sighed.
Your body shook lightly with an amused laughter. "You have all the time in the world to try," you teased. "I'm giving you my heart, Piastri. Don't screw it up."
Oscar softly blinked, smile slowly stretching onto his face. "I promise," he breathed, pressing a long kiss to the top of your cheek.
Radio silence. That all Kimi had heard from you. He had ignored your warnings. Called and called. Text after text to try and rectify his wrongs. But you had quickly blocked his number. And it wasn't the only gruelling problem in his life.
Kimi didn't know what was going on but he was losing. He was losing bad. Every race... it was like he was taking a thrashing. And each one from them coming from Oscar. From wins and podiums... he was stuck at the bottom of top ten towards the end of a season. His big point lead now heavily eaten into. His confidence on thin ice.
And it was all Oscar's fault.
It was driving Kimi crazy. Leaving him in tears. because nothing quelled his anger. No workout. No crash. Nothing. He was even beginning to hallucinate. Hoping to turn around in the paddock and see you nearby. Hearing echoes of your voice in the air. Anything to keep him sane.
But you weren't here. Because he had fucked up. because Oscar Piastri had decided to get in the way.
Here Kimi was. After all of it. Entering the paddock miserably for the third to last race of the season. One of the championship deciders. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep on the plane. Long hours spent in silence and with his brain.
He needed to head towards the Mercedes' suite for a morning brief. Pick up any instructions from the communiations team, maybe train a little before he went off to complete his media duties for the day.
His smile was tight and dull for the nearby cameras, hand hanging onto the bag slung over his shoulder. He walked with no extra pep or ego in his step. No cocky cadence that he once exhibited. Only with a sliver of hope that he could win. Even by a single point. Because suddenly the season he had been dying to start was the same one he was dying to be over.
Kimi's brows furrowed at the surprised looks of the photographers and people nearby. Their eyes travelling to the scene behind him, wide and cautious. He paused in his steps, body slowly turning to satiate his curiosity. But what he saw made his heart freeze and his blood run cold.
He blinked once. Twice. And another two more times.
But the sight never changed.
Kimi wasn't hallucinating. It was you.
For a second, Kimi's heart soared. A genuine smile threatening to spring onto his face. But as his eyes dropped down to your hand intertwined with another, he followed the arm to the familiar face of Oscar's and whatever happiness he had felt for a brief second had been smashed to smithereens.
He watched silently. Forced to do so, if anything. Watched as Oscar did the opposite of everything he ever did. Guiding you through the hoard of photographers and fans, keeping you close by as you both meet with Lando nearby. Watched as Oscar noticed your untied shoe and bent down to tie them without a second thought. Coming back up to give you a gentle kiss on your cheek as you enthusiastically engaged with his teammate.
Respectful and gentle with you. Fufilling all the promises Kimi had once made.
You looked unexplainably happy. Talking to someone that wasn't him. Someone that was no longer afraid to reciprocate any conversation with you.
For the first time in a while, Kimi could see the very same light in your eyes and your bright smile under these blue skies. None of which were for him. And it was like a stab to the heart.
But nothing worse than the smooth swivel of Oscar’s head, brown eyes meeting his as he smiled at him. Not a grin. Or smirk. A smile. Innocent and kind on the outside was the gesture. But the lingering stare emphasised it all.
It was official.
His wins.
His podiums.
His reputation.
His happiness.
His first love.
Oscar Piastri had stolen everything Kimi once had.
