#shut up and drive series!

[ashpkat]

i can’t believe octavian died like… that. of all things in a middle grade kids books series. and everyone was chill about it. literally no one gaf octavian died so horrifically even if it was ‘just’ —and as the readers… we were chill with it too

[likeabxrdinflight]

tired of early 20-somethings acting like harry potter was never good or had no value in its day like shut the fuck up half of you weren't even there when it peaked

[tearlessrain]

seriously can catastrophes stop happening for five minutes my brain is already fried from the ones we're already experiencing

[kopivie]

oh and for the record, i don't hate god. i just don't understand why christianity and catholicism seem to use fear and punishment as its way of keeping people in line.

growing up, what made me happiest was engaging in honors with my friends. (for context, pathfinders to adventists is what boy/girl scouts are to literally everyone else, but with added evangelism, camping, outreach, etc.) i loved attending youth congress every january, where i could be in a fancy hotel and learn how to become a leader in my adventist community. i love -- and still love -- teaching drilling and marching and drumming in a drum corps. hell, my favorite method of evangelism was standing in a subway station with my club and singing and praying for people who just needed some comfort for the day.

what bothered me to my core was the constant need for the adults to whip us into shape using religious threats. what would god say? don't use his name in vain (which, for the record, is completely different from what i was told growing up). god hates transgender people. we will never hold gay marriages. even if you are gay and a dedicated adventist, we can fix that. bad things happen to you because god said it was supposed to happen to you.

ooh, and my all-time favorite: if you're depressed, just give it all to god and he'll fix it.

but i thought this was part of his plan? oh, was me being suicidal a step too far?

i fully understand that human beings need to cling on to something higher than themselves. that's why we have astrology and several different religions (nontheistic religions included). the feeling that the universe has something planned for you, or that some higher power will comfort you when no one else will is... a nice thought. even though i avoid church like the plague, i still find myself relinquishing my troubles to god in a pinch. (hell, i'm listening to gospel right now to ease my anxiety so i can focus on studying.)

the thing that steers me away from religion, however, is the lack of agency that i apparently have. god's time isn't working for me. the rest of the world isn't like me, might not know god the way i know him. the world doesn't function on god's clock -- the world functions on a 24-hour or 12-hour clock, okay? i have deadlines, payments to make, things at risk. i can't wait around for god to help me. and oh no, god forbid i get mad with god in my impatience – there are several stories in which people are harshly punished for that. it's almost like being a human being with natural emotions is punishable by death in lots of scenarios.

or in my case, punishable by social exile. bc in the end, the issue will always be with the churchgoers and not the deity itself. (in my story it's the other way around, but we move.) the people who watched me grow up, even close family friends, all treated me like a pariah because i did things like cut and dye my hair and get piercings. i was a babysitter and role model for many kids -- suddenly, their parents are telling them to stay away from me and giving me dirty looks. god's not doing that – the people are.

but that's how you end up with people like me; people who don't know where to direct their frustrations and anger and resentment. do i blame the people? do i blame god? do i blame myself? and if i withdraw my faith in god, can i stop feeling this terrible? where does his plan end and mine begin?

idk, man. religion is weird. you can see why i want to explore this idea of humans relying on themselves instead of a higher power that quite frankly, can't be trusted.

[zukkacore]

I feel so bad bc I would give my life for shriekcast like I truly believe when they were dunking on HP and doing nuanced critique / good hearted ribbing of twilight it was a wiretap into my brain I’ve literally never seen anyone articulate feelings I’ve had since I was a kid reading the books for the first time so goddamn well but something snapped and I still can’t help but wait every update for their new episode w like cringe baited breath and yet every hunger games reading update has me head banging against the wall

[pepperyduck]

ridin' nanamin for the first time...

a/n: nsfw, riding, methinks this fits older boyfriend nanami so let’s say implied age gap😊 18+ mdni!

"ken, i wanna try to ride you."

your immodest request had taken your boyfriend by surprise, such forward ways of speaking often foreign to you. you had "tried" to ride him before, though it was more of a little grinding while you were on top. this time was going to be different, though, you were going to ride him.

"oh?" he'd all but coo, lacing his words with a slight mockery, "is that so?" kento's cunning, rare smile towards you afterwards almost makes you give in; but no, you're determined.

not without a little teasing, you set yourself up atop the older man, legs hiked up on either side of his waist with your feet planted firmly into the bed. reaching down, you guide the thick head of nanami's cock to your already sopping entrance, easing your hips down to take all of him.

you swat at kento, signaling you need some type of leverage, and his big, experienced hands come to interlock fingers with yours. it's sweet, really, how his arms hold you up so effortlessly while you struggle to remain composed on top of him. his muscles become more exposed and veinier as he continues to balance your weight against him.

conjuring up whatever strength you have, you lift yourself up with your legs and plop! back down, eyes completely focused on the reaction you're to receive from kento. yet he only finds it amusing how attentive you are to his pleasure, and he gives you to go-ahead to try it again.

this time, you try a series of multiple little bounces, each little 'plop' becoming increasingly heavier with each drop of your pelvis. but the one thing that drives you to not stop, to keep going without the need for hesitation, is the expression that comes over your boyfriend's face.

it's...intense. kento's eyebrows furrow together, his eyes close lightly, and every previous appearance of a smile is wiped from his lips as they form into a small 'o' shape. he looks as if he's focused, even with his eyes shut, on how your body tries so hard to pleasure him.

and the thing that really kills him is that you keep going. because he was so used to you being fucked dumb so easily, giving yourself up to him within the first few seconds of his intoxicating touch.

but kento can understand the thrill of the power he's giving you.

you muster up all the adrenaline left in your cells, legs burning with such fever you hate yourself for taking on this feat, pushing into your boyfriend's arms to keep yourself upright. strings of slick connect from the base of nanami’s cock to your cunt, a downright obscene sloshing and squelching coming from where the both of you interlock.

though your body aches for you to stop, you can't, not now. the constant unwinding of kento's brick wall attitude is too inebriating for you to quit.

[no-144444]

my girl- (o.piastri no.81)

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summary: fans made an edit of oscar and you being in love since your prema days.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader (no.28)

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Oscar Piastri being in love with Y/n Y/l/n for 15 minutes straight, and vice versa  (F2 -> F1)

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Clip 1: Prema video 

Bahrain Airport, F2 season beginning, March. 

“And here we have the 3 year reigning champion of the Indycar Junior series, making her F2 pivot, Y/n Y/l/n!” Rob cheered as he woke you from your nap on the plane. 

“Shut up,” you groaned, pushing the camera away with a chuckle. “I'm tired, leave me be.”

“The plane is landing, idiot!”

“Hush!” you laughed. “That means ages until we get off, get your camera away Rob!”

Rob and you had gotten the same flight from London, and you’d become fast friends. He was eccentric and overtop, but a good laugh. You were sure you looked crazy. 6 hour flights do that to a person. You and Rob chatted to the camera about the weekend, and you introduced yourself to the Prema fans. Not many people gave a shit about Indycar, and even less cared about Indycar junior. 

As you disembarked the plane and got through security, people stopped you and Rob for photos and whatnot, then you finally got out of the airport. Angelina was standing there with a camera and a big ‘welcome’ sign, and another two very tired teenage boys beside her. 

“Y/n!” she cheered, pulling you both into a hug. “Rob!” 

Little did you know, Rob’s camera was pointed at Oscar, who turned to Fred with a shocked expression and whispered: “She’s gorgeous.” 

Beside him, Fred chuckled. “Go for her.”

“No way I have any chance with her, I-”

“I can hear you, y’know?” you cut in, coming over to introduce yourself. 

He went redder than a tomato, and you all just laughed. 

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Clip 2: Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, 27th of March 

“And it’s No. 28 who sees the chequered flag first, the rookie, and the only girl on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n! Pole position in her first race!” 

“That’s P1 Y/n, congratulations,” your race engineer, Pedro, beamed as you crossed the finish line. 

“Motherfuck Guanyu is fast mate, we need to watch out for him- oh, and the other Alpine boy that was trying to flirt with me, what’s his name?” you answered. The Prema garage was full of laughter as you outed Oscar. 

“Oscar Piastri? No.2,” Pedro chuckled. “He failed to flirt with you?”

“Well, bless him, he tried to,” you chuckled as you parked the car. “He’s cute though.”

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“That’s P6 Oscar, and just to let you know, Y/n Y/l/n has outed you on the radio and on live television saying that you tried and failed to flirt with her,” his race engineer said. 

Oscar laughed, finding the situation funny. “My mum’s going to tweet about that.”

“She also called you ‘cute’, if that helps with any bruised ego?”

Oscar’s face lit up under his helmet. “It definitely does,” he chuckled. “Thanks mate.”

“I’d wingman you any time,” he chuckled. 

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Clip 3: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy, April.

“Hello everyone,” Robert smiled at the camera. “Today we will be going for a drive, I’d better call Oscar in.”

Oscar sat in the passenger seat and did his belt as they caught up and told the viewers what they’d be watching. 

“So, today, you will be joining us for a drive around the Italian countryside,” Rob smiled. “And we will be answering your questions.”

“Let the questions begin,” Oscar added. He pulled one out of the bowl and read it aloud. “Who’s your favourite Prema team member?”

Rob smiled. “That’s hard, I love the whole Prema team so much, but… yeah, that’s hard. Maybe my race engineer, Fred? I get along quite well with him,” Rob giggled as Oscar nodded.

“What?” Oscar laughed.

“I know your favourite,” Rob smirked. 

Oscar looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”

“La tua ragazza,” Rob chuckled as Oscar rolled his eyes. “What? It is true! You love her!” (La tua ragazza = your girl in Italian)

“I’ve met her once, mate!” Oscar laughed. 

“So you don’t like her? I can ask her out?” Rob deadpanned. 

“Well, no, you can't-” Oscar was cut off by Rob’s laughter and he decided to stop trying to fight him about it. Everyone on the team knew that Oscar Piastri was infatuated with you. 

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Clip 4: Georgie O’Hara’s deleted youtube video. 

Haileybury and Imperial Service College, England. 

“Ok, that’s an awful idea!” Oscar yelled over his friends. “They already know you’re the ones doing it!”

“It’s fine! It’ll be fine!” Elijah, a good friend of his, smiled. They wanted to set off the fire alarms again, for the third time that week. Deodorant and stupid teenage boys did not mix, especially when they refused to put it on themselves and waste it on fire drills instead. 

Georgie turned to his phone, addressing the viewers "Oscar's a goody-two-shoes, if you couldn't tell."

Suddenly his phone rang from an unknown number, and before he could leave it ring, Anthony (another friend of his) answered. “Oscar Piastri, incoming F2 champion’s phone, how may I help you?”

Oscar laughed, but suddenly stopped when he heard you. 

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you chuckled at his friend. “Anyways, can you just ask him to ask Elijah not to do the fire alarm thing between 11pm and 2am? The girls in my room and I are sneaking downstairs to watch a film and we don’t really want to get caught.”

Oscar covered his face and groaned, then took the phone off Georgie. “Hey-hi, Y/n. Yes, of course, we won’t do the fire alarm thing, ever again. Sorry.”

He turned his back as his friends made kissing noises and certain gestures at him. 

“All good, thanks Osc,” you smiled. “You and your friends are welcome to join us if you want.”

Oscar could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. “I’ll ask them,” he smiled. He turned to his friends. “Y/n’s inviting us all to a movie, we’re sneaking out tonight,” he informed them. 

“I don’t want to-” Anthony started, but Georgie silenced him with a kick to the shin. 

“Mate, this is Oscar’s one fucking chance with his girl, shut up,” He scoffed.

“Is that a yes?” You asked over the phone.

“Yes!” they all answered. 

---------------------

As the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more tired. Oscar was beside you and you could tell how he was trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. You could practically see the way his heart leapt out of his chest when you held his hand. As ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ ended, you squeezed his hand before getting up and letting go. 

“Alright, I’ll clean up, everyone else go back upstairs before you get caught,” you whispered. The ‘movie room’ as the students called it (it was technically the staff room but no one really cared) was a mess. Blankets, cups, wrappers and pillows were everywhere. The group slowly shuffled out as you were left with only Oscar. Georgie had forgotten about his camera and it was still recording where he’d put it down to get some shots of everyone watching the film. 

“I can help,” Oscar whispered. 

You shook your head. “Seriously, you go ahead. They already hate me at this school anyways,” you chuckled. 

“Please let me help?” he asked again. You couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to his puppy dog eyes, could you?

“Fine,” you smiled. 

You two chatted quietly as you cleaned up the room, and finally met at the door to leave. 

“I really enjoyed tonight-” You started, but you were cut off by Oscar kissing you. His arms wrapped around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck once the initial shock wore off. You both pulled away after a few seconds. You stared up at him as his usually-blank face turned to one of panic.

“Sorry if that was forward, or-or weird- or-” He started, but now it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss. 

He pulled back smiling, and he didn’t move his hands, or try to move away from you. There was a moment of silence. “Can I take you on a date?”

You chuckled. “Yes.”

Oscar was elated. 

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Clip 5: Sky sports channel and Prema footage

Circuit de Monaco, Monaco, Monaco, May 22nd. 

You were excited as you stepped onto the podium, victorious. It had been a difficult few laps at the end, Guanyu overtaking, then you overtaking, and over and over, but you got the chequered flag first. You were breaking records, breaking barriers as a woman in motorsports. You’d won Monaco, your first time racing there. In the Sprint, and the feature race. You were on top of the world. As you raised your trophy, the crowd cheered and Oscar was cheering the loudest. 

You looked to your left, him standing on the podium for the first time this season, and you smiled. 

“Feels good, huh?” you smirked. 

“Feels great, but I’ll be coming for your step next,” he smirked.

“You wish Piastri,” you scoffed, then uncorked your champagne bottle and sprayed it on him and Zhou.

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Clip 6: Sky Sports channel, Prema footage

 Autodromo Nazionale di Monza, Monza, 17th of July, Sprint Race. 

“And it’s Y/n Y/l/n into the wall in a bad collision with Liam Lawson, only 2 laps till the end!” 

Everything was in slow motion, one second you were in control, the next you were flipping into the wall. 

“Red flag, red flag Oscar, huge crash in sector 3, come in, come in,” his race engineer said. 

“Who was it?” He asked, slowing his pace. 

“Y/l/n and Lawson, straight into the wall.”

“Is she ok? Is she out of the car?” he asked calmly. 

“Not yet,” he answered grimly. The Prema garage was eerily silent as they watched the stewards struggle to get you out of the car. 

As he came up on sector 3, he saw you. The car was upside down leaning against the barrier, they were putting out the fire. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You and Oscar had been dating for a few months now, and he really liked you. He passed by in horror as he saw that you weren’t out of the car yet. He was getting more and more nervous as the moments went on. He caught sight of Liam. He was out of the car. He beckoned Oscar over and he obliged, letting him hitch a ride back to the pitlane with him as he drove slowly. As they got back to the pitlane, they both jumped out as the race was finally deemed as cancelled, and the boys walked off, waiting for news. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“It was a total mistake, my car had mad fucking oversteer and I just hit the throttle too hard, and then she was in the wall,” he answered. “She’s not even out yet.”

“She’ll be ok,” Oscar said, trying to convince himself as well as Liam. “She’s strong.”

Liam nodded, and went off to the RedBull garage with his head held low. Oscar walked into the Prema garage and his mom immediately pulled him in for a hug. Beside her was your parents, looking terrified. 

“You’re ok, thank god,” she whispered. She didn’t care about the multiple cameras pointing at them, her son was alright. 

“Is there any news yet?”

“They’ve pulled her out of the car,” your dad answered, eyes glued to the screen. 

“Is she responsive?” Nicole asked. 

“Yes!” You race engineer answered, happy that you were alive. There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the garage. “Complaining about lower back and leg pain, as well as a definite broken arm. She won’t be racing for a while,” he added, his tone becoming more and more sombre. Oscar watched as your mother broke down in your father’s arms, and he felt like throwing up. You wouldn’t be racing, you wouldn’t get to do the thing you loved. 

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Clip 6: Prema video

ASST Brianza - Vimercate Hospital, 18th of July.

You woke up in blinding pain a few hours earlier. Everyone had worked so hard to make everything ok, to make you comfortable, but all night all you did was sob. The pain was unbearable in the car, you thought you were going to die, you thought you weren’t getting out of the car. 5 fractured vertebrae, 3 broken ribs, a fractured hip bone, and a broken arm apparently wasn’t a joke. No racing for the rest of the year. Your life was over. 

“Fuck,” you whispered as you sat up and pain shot up your back. 

“Hey,” Oscar’s soft voice brought you out of your upset, and back into the room. He took your hand. You felt bad, he’d been there the entire time, and honestly, he should probably be at the track already, ahead of today’s race. You’d tried to shoo him but he wasn’t having it, much more in favour of being with you and cluing you in on how your parents reacted to him being your boyfriend. Awkward. “Take your time.”

You nodded, grateful that he was there, then turned your attention to the camera Angelina had brought with her and set up to take a ‘statement’ video. “Hi Prema fans, and my fans. Yesterday was pretty rough, and with a heavy heart I have to tell you that I won’t be able to continue this season in F2. My back was badly damaged yesterday in my collision with Liam, which was a complete accident and not anyone's fault, and I definitely don’t blame Liam. I love racing, and I’ll still be at the majority of the races to support my teammates, and my boyfriend. This is just a very unfortunate event that pulls me out of the game for a while, but I’ll be back. I hope you miss me on track, and just know that I’m alright. Thank you for the support, bye for now, Prema family.”

Oscar wrapped his arms around you and smiled. “I’m the boyfriend,” he added, making you laugh. 

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Clip 7: Prema footage

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, 4th of December

“And Oscar Piastri sees the chequered flag first! Winning a sprint race and the feature race this weekend!” 

You jumped up and down beside Chris, his father, as he came into the pitlane. He was the lead of the championship. He was going to win F2. No doubt about it. 

The past 5 months had been difficult. You’d been back at school for a while, only now cleared to travel again, but you were happy to be back at the tracks. It felt good to watch Oscar win in person. 

Chris wrapped his arms around you as you both celebrated. Oscar’s radio came on. 

“God guys, good drive. Looks like Y/n is my lucky charm,” he laughed over the radio. The last races hadn’t gone so well for him, but he was straight back to winning with you here.  

You were smiling the whole way to the barricade, but that ended when about 50 people were against your back, pushing violently. Chris and Mark were trying desperately to get them to back off, but they couldn’t stop them. You promised them you’d be ok, but the pain was getting unbearable, and Oscar hadn’t come over yet. 

“Guys, move back!” He shouted as he ran over, just finished taking off his helmet. “Make some space!” The team obliged, but he still decided to be dramatic and lift you over the barrier. “You alright?” he asked, but you just wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re incredible Osc,” you smiled. “I love you so much.”

And there it was, out in the open for the first time. Too bad you forgot you both had microphones on. 

He smiled wider than you ever thought possible for his face. “I love you too. So much baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You should be up here with me,” he added and you nodded, it still being a sore subject. “And you will be. Next year.”

You nodded, grateful for the hope and support he offered you. “Go! Go to your team!” you laughed, pushing him on. Before he let you out of his grasp, he grabbed your waist and stole a sweet, quick kiss. 

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Clip 8: Prema footage

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 12th of December 

He’d done it. He was the F2 champion. Sadly next year he would only get to be the Alpine F1 reserve driver, which meant no consistent racing, but that was still incredible. 

You waited by the barricade as he came in, and he went straight over to you. He pulled his helmet off, then his bandana, and pulled you in for a kiss. The rest of the team ‘ohh’ed and ‘aww’ed but neither of you cared at all. He’d won. 

“Congratulations F2 winner,” you smirked, pulling away. 

“Thanks baby,” he smiled. 

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Post-race interview

“So, how does this feel, Oscar?” she asked. 

“It feels amazing, y’know, we’ve all worked so hard at this for the whole year and it’s just really special to have everyone here, especially my girlfriend Y/n. I’m missing her on track, so it’s good to still at least have her in the paddock,” he smiled, and the camera cut to you, beaming up at him.

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Clip 9: Prema footage and Sky Sports channel 

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 19th of March, Sprint 1. 

“We’re in the Prema garage,” Oscar explained to the camera in front of him. He was in full Alpine gear, being a reserve driver meant being a marketing machine, but this wasn’t for Alpine, this was for you. “And my girlfriend is about to go and do her first race back since the accident last season. Let’s go interview her about it!” He walked through the garage, searching for you, and finally found you. “Y/n! Any time for an interview?”

You turned to him and smiled. “I always have time for you,” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. His grip on you was tight but you didn’t mind. You pulled away and turned to the camera.

“So, how does it feel to be back?” He asked.

“Amazing. I thought my life was over when I was told I wasn’t allowed to race for half a year.”

“And who helped nurse you back to health?” He smirked, batting his eyelashes at you. 

“Your mom mostly,” you chuckled. You’d spent the entire off-season in Australia with Oscar and his family, and Nicole had been so considerate and careful about your healing injuries. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Yeah… that’s probably true,” he chuckled. “How do you feel being on Pole?”

“It feels good. We just have to stay quick this season. I didn’t rush my healing just to lose,” you smiled then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve to get in the car now, love you,” you smiled. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his lips to yours with a ‘good luck’, then let you go. 

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“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n is coming in with a bang! A Sprint Pole and a Sprint win! That is a statement, ‘I never left’!” 

“That’s P1 Y/n, well done!” Pedro called over the radio as the Prema garage went crazy. 

“Thanks for everything guys, great car, great drive-”

“Great driver,” he added. 

You pulled into the pitlane and got out of the car, celebrating as they got the photo of you on the car. You ran over to Oscar at the barricade as you pulled off your helmet and balaclava.

“That’s my girl!” he cheered as you pulled him in for a hug. “See? Nothing's changed.”

You pressed your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m loving this WAG lifestyle,” he chuckled. 

You laughed. “It suits you.”

He chuckled. “Alright, you’re being called for the interview. Love you,” he smiled as you walked off, giving your hand a squeeze. You blew him a kiss back. 

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Clip 10: Prema video 

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy. 

You were laughing with Logan, doing a ‘Who knows who best’ challenge and both of you were failing miserably. 

You put the headphones on and the music started, making it impossible to hear him. You watched as the room erupted in laughter, then Logan nudged you to take the headphones off. 

“What is the most annoying thing about you?” He asked, holding back giggles. 

“I know what you’d say,” you chuckled. “Me and Oscar.”

The room erupted in laughter as he nodded. “Exactly!” 

“You’re just jealous,” you chuckled. 

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a girlfriend?”

“No, because I have Oscar and you don’t,” you shot back, and everyone started laughing again. 

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Clip 11: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 20th of November 

“And after a season of domination from the woman in red, Y/n  Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first with a staggering 425 points! This F2 season will go down in history!”

You’d done it. You’d done it. You were an F2 champion, and next season you’d be in an F1 car fulltime, racing alongside Oscar, Logan, and Nick. You’d made it. 

You jumped out of the car, amazed at your season. It’d been win after win, fastest lap after fastest lap, pole position after pole position. You’d worked so hard. 

“You did it baby!” Oscar shouted as you ran over. You jumped into his arms, and let him hold you up. He looked at you like you held the sky up, like you were the greatest thing on the planet. “You’re incredible.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled. “ I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more,” he pressed kisses to any inch of skin he could, more than proud to be yours. 

You chuckled as he tickled you with his kisses, before you realised that you needed to go fulfil your duties. He put you down, but before you could leave, he grabbed your waist again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Osc.”

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Clip 12: Sky Sports channel, McLaren footage, and RedBull footage

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 2023. 

“A disappointing result for Oscar Piastri, but an incredible run for Y/n Y/l/n, P1 in her first race! I’m sure he’ll be pleased with that for his long-time girlfriend!” 

 Oscar was pissed off, but his mood was lifted by your result. You were incredible. He cheered in his own garage, happy for your win. You’d won your first race. Who else did that? The first woman to ever do so. 

He was in awe of you. 

He exited his garage, ready to see you after your win. He saw you getting out of the car and running straight into the arms of your team and he smiled. He finally caught your eye after some time, and you ran over, wrapping your arms around him. 

“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of your mouth. “If I could trade our cars, I would Osc, I really would,” you sighed.

“Don’t even joke about that. Don’t make your first win about me. This is about you, my brilliant, incredible, winner,” he pressed his lips to yours in a short, victory kiss. “I love you, yeah?” “I love you too,” you smiled. 

“You were amazing out there,” he smiled. 

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Clip 13: McLaren video 

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia 

“Who is your teammate's favourite person?” Lando asked, then looked at the camera and rolled his eyes. “Oscar’s is Y/n because he’s a traitor.”

Oscar burst into laughter and looked at Lando. “That’s not fair! We started dating as teammates!”

“Oh sure Osc!” Lando sighed, playing up the drama. “That’s what they all say.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“Anyways, moving on from Oscar and his traitor girlfriend, who’s my favourite person Oscar?” 

“Max Fewtrell?” 

Lando thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Him or my parents or siblings.”

Oscar took another question out of the bowl and chuckled. “What’s the other person’s red flag?”

Little did he know, you’d come in to visit him and were actively sneaking up behind him. 

“Yours is your refusal to ever use a hairbrush,” you answered for Lando, and Oscar jumped, making everyone laugh, especially Lando, who fell off his chair. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around Oscar's neck from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Came to say hi,” you smiled, kissing his cheek. 

“Came to air out my business online?” He questioned, laughing. He took your hands and led you around his chair, sitting you on his lap. “When did you get in?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder as Lando tried to compose himself. 

“Just now, came straight from the airport,” you nodded, leaning back against him. 

“Bad flight?”

“Nah, I was on Max’s jet. He’s offered me to ask you two if you want to go back to Monaco after this weekend with him. I am,” you answered. He nodded, gently playing with your hands as he listened to you. 

“Sounds good to me,” he smiled. “Tell him ‘thanks’, yeah?” 

You nodded. “‘Course,” you got up to leave but he pulled you down by the arm and pressed your lips together quickly, then let you go. “Love you,” you called after yourself. 

“Love you too,” he called back, ready to get back to the interview. 

“Can we keep that in?” Ellie, their marketing manager asked. 

He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

---------------------

Clip 14: Hattie Piastri’s tiktok vlog

Piastri residence, Melbourne, 2023 

“Y/n’s over there with Oscar, and Addie is with May and mum and dad are with Tim over there,” she explained to the camera pointing everything out. In the video you and Oscar were laying on the grass in the setting sun, utterly exhausted from your weekend of racing where you’d gotten p2 and Oscar had gotten p8. His arms were wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, smiling. 

---------------------

Clip 15: Sky Sports channel, RedBull footage and Nicole Piastri’s instagram

Circuit Zandvoort, Zandvoort, Holland

“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n beats teammate Max Verstappen to first place, and she sees the chequered flag first! What an incredible season this has been for the rookie!”

As you crossed the finish line, you almost felt sick. You’d beaten Max, giving you a lead in the Driver’s Championship. He’d been 10 points ahead. Now, you were 15 points ahead of him. 

“That’s P1, P1 Y/n congratulations,” Pedro smiled. 

“Thanks Pedro, and thanks everyone, really well done. Car is perfect, thank you all so much!” 

“And Oscar’s P9, if you're wondering.”

“When I get my fucking hands on Zak Brown I will rip his fake fucking toupée off for giving him such a shit car,” You groaned. “Great drive guys, thanks.”

---------------------

You walked into the paddock as they all cheered both you and Max on. Max had gotten P2, unhappy with not winning, but not mad that you’d won. He saw what you were doing for motorsports all around the world, how much pressure you were under as the first female driver in a long time, and how hard you were working. He wasn’t going to make your life harder by being an asshole off the track too. He gave you a celebratory hug and moved onto his driver’s room, as you stayed out with the engineers, chatting and celebrating with them. 

---------------------

Nicole Piatri’s instagram live 

“Hi everyone, Osc and I are right now, trying to sneak into the RedBull garage to see Y/n,” Nicole explained and behind her, Oscar smiled and put both thumbs up. 

“I’m going to be told off for this by Zak, so, sorry Zak. I want to see my girlfriend, my bad,” he chuckled, his apology only half-assed. 

Nicole and him continued faffing around the paddock for a while, until Nicole caught your eye through the window. You ran over to the door beside them and let them in, pulling Nicole in for a huge hug as Oscar waited behind her with a wide smile. 

He spoke to the live. “Apparently my girlfriend likes my mum better than me-" 

You cut him off with a kiss as you laughed at his antics. “Shut the fuck up,” you chuckled. “You’re such a baby.”

“I missed seeing you in the conference,” he shrugged, holding you close as his mum took the phone and documented this moment between the two of you. “I love you,” he smiled. 

“I love you too,” you chuckled, kissing his cheek. “P9? Not bad.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled. “P1? Not bad,” he lifted you into his arms making you squeal. 

“Osc! Put me down!” You squealed. 

“Let me win next time,” he chuckled. “Then I’ll put you down.”

“What do you want me to do? Switch our cars?”

“Ideally,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek and putting you down. “But I guess I’ll settle for watching you be gorgeous on the podium every week.”

“The fans are loving this!” Christian joked as he watched over Nicole’s shoulder, seeing how the chat was going crazy.

You both turned to Nicole with confused faces. 

“You’re still filming mum?!” 

This live has now been ended by the host. 

---------------------

Clip 16: Sky sports channel

​​Lusail International Circuit, Lusail, Qatar 

“Oscar Piastri has done the job brilliantly, the Australian driver will see the chequered flag first! Oscar Piastri wins the sprint to take McLaren to the top step once again!” 

“That’s P2 Y/n, Oscar P1,” Pedro announced. 

“WOOOOO!” You screamed, elated for him. “Fucking legend!” 

“I said P2 for you,” he reminded. 

“Shut up and be happy for him, just once,” you chuckled, pulling into the pit lane to park. You watched as Oscar got out of the car as you got out of your own car. Immediately, he ran over to you, wrapping you up in his arms as you celebrated together. 

“You did it!” You shouted, jumped around in each other's arms. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“You put up a good fucking fight,” he chuckled, smiling like a kid. 

“You’re going to look so sexy at the top of the podium,” you smirked and he blushed hard. 

“I wish you wouldn’t say stuff like that in public,” he chuckled, then hid his face in your neck as you laughed. 

---------------------

Post-sprint conference 

“So, this is a question for Y/n and Oscar,” an interviewer started. Both of you looked up, exhausted from the late night race. “Does your relationship prohibit you from racing to your full potential? I believe Y/n, you could’ve caught up. Did you give him this win?”

You scoffed, appalled that anyone would have the audacity to ask such a thing. “For fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “No. I couldn’t have. You know how you know that? Because I would’ve if I could’ve. I love Oscar, and I’ve loved him since I was about 14 years old, but that doesn’t mean that I let him win. He’s a ridiculously talented driver, and a fucking genius with strategy. His car is great too. But out there today? That was pure talent. I can love him, and wholeheartedly race him too,” you answered, getting annoyed at the comments like these you two constantly got. “And another thing, I’m getting really fucking sick of the questions about our relationship. Do you really think we’d be together if we couldn’t race each other and not come back to each other and be proud of each other? Seriously? Where is your critical thinking?”

The room was full of whispered conversation as you dropped the last diss, and beside you Oscar was looking at you with huge heart eyes. Anyone could see it from a mile away, he loved you. He chuckled, wanting to add his two cents as well. “Yeah, exactly. The only thing she lets me win in is chess, right?” He looked at you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes. 

“You won once, asshole,” you chuckled, pushing his hand off your thigh. 

“Then we stopped playing,” he shrugged, a cocky smirk very-present on his face. 

“We ran out of time,” you shrugged, feigning innocence. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Sure.”

The tension in the room had been dissolved in the comedic moment, and you were thankful for Oscar’s calm exterior. You moved closer to him on the couch, and he wrapped an arm around you, smiling wide as you pressed a kiss to his hand, the one closest to your face. 

---------------------

Clip 17: Drive to Survive 

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“How are you feeling?” Oscar asked, sitting in your driver’s room with you before the race. He knew how worried you were, how much you wanted this. You had to win. You and Max were neck and neck. You just had to get more points than him, starting from P2. 

You sighed, standing between his legs and messing with his hair, favouring trying not to think about it rather than talking about it. He grabbed ahold of your waist and pressed his face into your torso, pressing kisses to wherever he could reach, trying to make you laugh. 

You chuckled and pushed him away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m alright, I promise. Just stressed.”

“You won’t be stressed in a week,” he smiled. “We’ll be in Melbourne.”

You smiled, and kissed him again. “We will. Waves and relaxing. Nothing else.”

“Well, and Logan,” he chuckled. “So… ‘Merica and all that,” he smiled as you laughed at his bad joke. He got you down to his lap and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve got this, don’t worry.”

“Wow, anxiety cured,” you replied sarcastically, making him laugh. 

---------------------

Clip 18: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“And it is an incredible season for the first female in modern F1, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first, with a Driver’s Championship 1-2 with her teammate Max Verstappen! This makes her the first female ever to win the F1 Driver’s Championship title! What an inspiration!” 

You’d done it. You won your rookie season. You were World Champion. You were a legend. 

“WOOOOO!” You screamed as tears rolled down beneath your hemet. “We did it! We did it!”

“We did it!” Pedro screamed. You knew the entire RedBull garage was going crazy right now. “You did it Y/n!”

“Thank you, everyone! This would’ve been impossible without you all! Amazing year! Incredible work!” you beamed. 

---------------------

“That’s P6, P6 Oscar,” his race engineer announced. 

“Did Y/n get it? Did she win?” 

“Yes, your girl is a World Champion,” he smiled. 

“YES! YES! THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRL!” he screamed, elated at the news. He knew you could do it. He’d always known you could do it. 

He rushed to get to the pit lane, ready to celebrate with you. He jumped out of the car and pulled off his helmet as fast as he could, watching as you ran over to him. 

“You did it!” He cheered. “My fucking girl.”

“I did it!” You cried, over the moon. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled. 

His eyes filled with tears as his heart swelled with pride. “You’re amazing. I love you so much Y/n.”

Neither of you cared about the cameras around you as you went in for a kiss. You didn’t care about how sweaty and gross you both were, you didn’t care about the grief that the pr team would give you, you didn’t care. 

You were a World Champion. He was your everything. You were his everything.

---------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[agentstarkid]

“Fucking champion. My Fucking Empress”

THEY ARE REALLY GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME 😵💫😵💫😵💫 She really enjoyed the hell out of her BIG TROPHY 🤭😝

200/10 bestie! 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 2)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

4.3k words

Warnings: Language, fingering, unprotected sex, the start of catching feelings

A/N: Reader is called "The Empress" by fans. Thanks to @agentstarkid for coming up with the nickname 🩷🩷

Series Masterlist

It didn’t take a genius to know whose eyes were drilling a hole into your backside. When you glanced over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Roy Kent. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly as his eyes raked down your figure. His gaze froze at your middle, where you had tied your racing suit; his eyes were on that little sliver of tummy that you may have purposefully left exposed just for him. You shot him a small wink before turning to chat with one of your engineers.

Roy focused all of his strength on not biting his lip as he stared at you. The two of you had been playing this little game all weekend: gazes across rooms, eyes lingering on each other’s bodies, mentally undressing each other, both wondering if the other was thinking about Roy’s post-race promise.

“Oi, why don’t we get a picture?” Keeley’s voice interrupted a particularly filthy image Roy had swimming in his head that involved you on your knees. “Our Greyhounds with one of the cars. Be real cute, yeah?”

Needing his willpower to prevent himself from getting an obvious hardon, Roy allowed himself to be dragged to one of the cars and- fuck, Keeley was dragging him to your car. The car that he most definitely did not imagine you writhing on top of while he-

“Alright boys, smile pretty!”

Right. Roy, smiling. Keeley was just grateful that he stood next to Jamie while she started snapping away. He swore he saw something light up in her face, but she just continued to take pictures. Freaking Keeley.

“Roy Kent, are you a fan?”

The breath on the back of his neck had a visible shiver coursing through his body. Even just the sound of your voice was enough to make his mind go to the filthiest places. When he turned around, you were smirking up at him, eyebrows raised and hands on your hips, looking like his own personal centerfold in your half-down racing suit.

Before his brain could get the blood back from his crotch, Keeley pulled you into a hug, squealing about how hot you looked in your race suit, something Roy quite agreed with- especially since he knew what was underneath all those layers.

After you’d greeted the others, you turned your attention back to Roy. “Excited to watch the race?”

He swore he saw your eyes flicker to his crotch when you said excited.

Roy shifted his weight, hoping to avoid looking like a horny teenager in front of everyone. “’Course I am. Really looking forward to seeing you win.” Recognizing the lustful look in your eyes, he felt emboldened to quietly add, “And looking forward to celebrating with you after.”

Finally, he’d cracked that cool exterior you wore. Your slight flush only added to his desire “Oh, is that offer still good?” You glanced at the Richmond crew, who were back to taking pictures by your car. “Guess I better get out there and win then.” You gave his bicep a little squeeze. “Wish me luck.”

His voice was low. “You don’t fucking need luck. You’re the fucking Empress.”

You’d been called that little nickname for what felt like forever now. Heard it shouted by fans, had reporters cheekily call you that, even had a couple guys try using it in the bedroom. And you loved the way it sounded in Italian- L'imperatrice- once you joined Ferrari.

But hearing Roy Kent call you that had your pussy practically purring.

You needed to remove yourself from him before you removed his clothes. So, you allowed yourself one last eyeful of the football legend before turning away. “I’ll see you after the race, Roy Kent.”

~

Goddess. That was the only word Roy could think as he watched you up on the podium, drenched in champagne and positively glowing. When the bottles of champagne were popped and poured over you, Roy found himself grateful for the roar of the crowd because he couldn’t hold back his groan, thinking about other things he wanted to see you covered in.

Unfortunately for Roy, the cheers could hide his moans but not his face.

“Roy Kent, are you horny?” Keeley hissed in his ear.

Roy tore his eyes away from you to look at Keeley, completely flabbergasted. “What the fuck, Keeley?”

Her smile was pure, adorable evil. “You’re horny,” she repeated. Her mischievous eyes flashed to the podium. “You fucking like her.”

“Fuck off, Keeley,” he grumbled, trying to look casual when he turned his gaze back to you. But fuck, it was hard when he saw you up there, drenched, in that sexy racing suit, being worshipped like the deity he was completely convinced you were.

Something else was hard when your gazes locked and you offered him that smirk, the one that told him, I’m taking your pants off, Roy Kent.

If only he knew how badly you were fighting the urge to rub your thighs together at the mere sight of him.

Keeley’s elbow dug into his ribs. “Holy shit, are you going to try to shag her?”

He was going to murder the blonde beside him. “Fuck are you on about?” he grumbled, pretending Keeley wasn’t completely on target. “What is actually wrong with you?”

She shrugged, as if she wasn’t torturing her friend. “Roy. I know your horny face. I have been the reason for your horny face.” She pointed at him. “That is your horny face. And, if memory serves me, you are very fucking turned on right now. Not that I could blame you. She’s gorgeous.” Her smile widened. “I ever tell you about the photoshoot we did together? Where I was hanging all over her? Even kissed her in one.”

The tips of Roy’s ears turned bright red. Yeah, that was a mental image he’d have melted into his brain for a long time, especially now that he knew what both of you looked like naked.

“Oi, Keeley!” Jamie wrapped his arms around both of his friends’ shoulders; for once, Roy was grateful for Tartt’s interruption, even if it meant being embraced by the man. “We goin’ to one of the afterparties or something?”

Even though she answered Jamie, her wicked grin was directed at Roy. “Oh, we’re going to Ferrari’s party.”

~

For once in his life, Roy didn’t complain about having to go to a club. Keeley thought she was clever, realizing that Roy was seriously attracted to the gorgeous young champion, and even more clever for dragging Roy to the celebration in your honor. She was such a good friend, trying to help Roy shag his little crush.

What Keeley didn’t realize was that Roy’d already had his tongue inside of you.

“You should go say hi,” Keeley purred, nudging Roy for the millionth time that day. “Bring her a drink or some shit. Flirt with her a little.” She reminded him of a parrot, repeating herself over and over since they’d arrived at the club.

Roy rolled his eyes and leaned his elbows on the high-top table they stood at. “Keeley,” he growled. “You say one more fucking word, and I will never speak to that woman again.” It was an absolute fucking lie, but Roy was desperate for her to stop.

She pouted. “Come on, Roy,” she whined. “Just want to see you all happy and getting some.”

“I get plenty,” he snapped, feeling himself blush.

“When?” she responded, just as curt. “I’ve hardly seen you since any women since we broke up.”

Roy scoffed, pretending Keeley wasn’t once again correct. “Well, not that it’s your fucking business, but I just hooked up with someone recently. And it was fucking great. And she definitely fucking came.” God, he sounded like such a wanker.

Before Keeley could badger him about who this mystery woman was, Jamie pulled her to the dance floor, leaving Roy to finally fucking breathe. He turned his attention to the glass in front of him, frowning at it. Should he go say hi? You were spending your whole night being mobbed by people; did he really want to add to that? And besides, did you really take his little promise seriously?

“There a porno playing at the bottom of that glass or something?”

There you were, wearing a dress that was more skin than material, giving him that fucking smirk. You leaned on the table and gazed up at him, the look in your eyes tempting Roy to pull you close and plant a sloppy kiss to whatever skin his lips found first.

Instead, he lifted his glass. “There she is,” he hummed. “The fucking champion. The Empress.” He wasn’t sure because of the dark lighting, but he swore he saw you blush. “Looked great up there, with your big fucking trophy.”

Your bravado returned with a vengeance. “Speaking of which…” You took a tiny step towards him, letting your fingers brush against the inside of his wrist. “I’ve heard you’ve got a big fucking trophy for me.”

In spite of his spinning head, Roy coolly raised his thick eyebrows at you. “Only if you want it,” he murmured.

Your eyes never left his as you reached into your clutch, pulled out a hotel room key, and slipped it into his hand. “Wait five minutes, then leave. I’ll be five minutes behind you, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he huffed, eyes sparkling as he pocketed the hotel room key. “Bring that bossiness with you, hmm?”

He pushed himself off the table and strode away, letting his fingertips brush against yours. You looked down and let yourself smile, a real, girlish smile; you weren’t sure the last time you wore one of those. But fuck, Roy Kent sure made you feel some kind of giddiness.

“Hey there, gorgeous!” Keeley Jones bounded over to you. “Congratulations!”

You let her pull you into a tight hug, although your mind was already in your hotel room embracing someone else from Richmond. “Thanks, Keeley.”

Keeley’s smile was… suspicious. “Saw Roy chatting with you just now.”

Fuck. “Oh, yeah. Nice guy, was offering me his congratulations.” And his cock.

“Well, between you and me…” She leaned in close, reminding you of the girls you went to school with, the ones who giggled and whispered. “I think Roy’s got a thing for you.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you didn’t know how to react. What are you supposed to say when someone says the guy you’re about to fuck wants to fuck you? “Interesting.”

Keeley all but scoffed. “Interesting?” she repeated. “Come on, you’ve got to admit he’s fit as hell.”

You shrugged. “I guess? I mean, it’s not like I’ve seen the guy naked.” Hey, it’s the truth.

“Well, I have. And believe me, he’s gorgeous.” Keeley nudged you, offering a cartoonish wink. “Should give him a shot.”

As you tried to figure out the least obvious way to get out of this conversation so you could get into Roy Kent’s pants, Jamie Tartt- who was apparently very busy being an angel tonight- rushed over to tell Keeley that Rebecca had just agreed to do body shots off of him and that he needed Keeley to come record it.

Thankful to finally have Keeley gone, you quickly turned on your heel, giving only smiles and waves to the people who wanted to offer you congratulations as you made your way out of the club. But, just like on the track, there was no stopping you; not when you had a big fucking trophy waiting for you.

The entire cab ride to the hotel, you were fighting the urge to touch yourself in the dark backseat, just imagining Roy waiting for you in your suite. Would he be in the sitting room? The bedroom? The shower? Would he be wearing his suit still? Or completely naked and ready for you? Each scenario was hotter than the last, and you felt a little guilty, thinking that you were probably leaving a puddle on the seat of the taxi.

Miraculously, you walked steadily in your high heels through the hotel lobby, to the lift, and finally down the hall to your suite. You paused in front of the door, your confidence failing for the first time all weekend as you stared at the door handle. What if Roy wasn’t in there? What if, on what should be one of the best nights of your life- six fucking titles- you’d just utterly humiliated yourself? Maybe what he’d wanted was a one-time thing and nothing more.

Or, maybe he was just as hot for you as you were for him.

Knowing there was only one way to find out, you fished out the duplicate key to your room from your clutch and pressed it to the sensor. The little beep let you know to go ahead and turn the handle; with a shaky breath, you did.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

Roy Kent sat on the couch, the top buttons of his shirt undone, legs crossed, drink in hand, looking like sex personified. He stood up and grabbed the untouched drink that sat on the little coffee table and crossed the room to hand it to you as the door closed behind you.

“Empress.”

You took the drink, unable to suppress the smile that tugged on your lips. “Roy Kent. In my hotel room. Drinking scotch.” You took a sip. “Why does this feel familiar?”

He took your free hand in his and led you back to the couch. Feeling utterly bold, you swung your legs over his lap, pleased with the surprised look in his eye, and even more pleased when he let his hand rest on your shin. He stared, not at your highly exposed body, but at your face, his fiery gaze holding yours carefully.

“You were fucking brilliant today,” he murmured, letting his thumb stroke your shin, natural and casual, as if he did this every night. “Knew from the moment you started your car that you were going to win.” He tilted his head back, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. “Really glad you did.”

You eyed him over the rim of your glass as you took a long sip. “You make a bet with someone that I was going to win?” you teased, kicking off your shoes.

“Something like that.” He finished his scotch and placed his glass back on the table, keeping a firm grip on your legs. “Now, what’s this about you wanting a big fucking trophy?”

“Well, you did promise me something about your pants if I won today.” You sat up, bringing your face to his, nudging his nose with yours. “And I did win.”

“Guess you get a big fucking trophy then.”

His mouth captured yours, somehow even more desperate than last time, scotch and desire on his tongue. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed the glass you held and placed it next to his, freeing your hands to grab onto his shoulders as you lifted yourself onto his lap, that familiar bulge pressing against you.

“Been waiting all weekend for this,” he mumbled against your mouth, tangling one hand in your hair, and letting the other grip your hip. “All fucking weekend, watching you strut around in that little racing suit.” His mouth trailed down your jaw towards your neck. “Gorgeous fucking thing.”

You rolled your hips into his, not bothering to hide your moan. “And what if I hadn’t won?” you teased, squeezing his shoulders. “What would’ve happened to my big fucking trophy?”

“Then you’d get a big fucking consolation prize.” The hand on your hip found your ass, giving it a squeeze. “Because I was not leaving this weekend without fucking you.”

His brazen, dirty words had you gasping even louder than his clothed hardness. “Fucking hell,” was all you could huff out, giving another thrust down onto him. “Get me into the fucking bedroom already.”

“Whatever you say, Empress.”

You didn’t need to tell Roy twice. Just like Thursday, he held you against him, bringing his mouth back to yours as he traced the now-familiar path to the bedroom, fighting the urge to rip the dress off your body; it could hardly be called a dress anyway, it barely covered a damn thing. And what it did cover, he was desperate to see.

The two of you collapsed onto the bed, Roy on top of you, careful not to press his weight on you. As soon as your back hit the mattress, your hands were on the remaining buttons of his shirt, carelessly opening them, not feeling an ounce of guilt when one ripped off the material and bounced onto the floor. As soon as the last button was undone, you thrust the shirt over his shoulders and tossed it aside.

Finally- fucking finally- you had a piece of Roy Kent’s clothing gone. You broke the kiss to take a good look at his chest, as if you hadn’t just been looking at shirtless photos of him the night before while doing your usual pre-race “ritual”. A sigh flew out of your mouth as your hands trailed down his chest, gripping that thick, dark hair that you wanted to bury your face in.

When you gave a particularly demanding tug at his hair, Roy let out a hiss and gave a jerk, the material against your bare thighs reminding you that he still had his pants on.

“Can I have my prize?” you purred, fiddling with the zipper of his pants; you realized with a smug satisfaction that he’d taken off his belt before you’d even arrived at the suite.

He buried his face in your neck, hands roaming your body. “You can have whatever the fuck you want,” he growled. “Fucking champion. Fucking Empress.”

Determined to take him up on that, your nimble fingers made quick work of his pants, helping him tug them down. Once they were off, he turned over, tugging you to sit on top of him. Your hands and eyes took their time roaming his body; it was everything you knew it would be: strong, muscular, hot to the touch. And now it was the one thing you wanted it to be: yours.

“This would be one hell of a consolation prize,” you whispered, bringing one hand to cup his cheek. “Glad I won. Feel like I deserve it.” You said it in a joking voice, but some small part of you meant it.

He laid his hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Believe me,” he breathed. “You deserve anything you want.”

The two of you paused, both taken aback by the tenderness of the moment, this interruption to the hot desperation. Roy let out an awkward huff and brought your hand to his mouth, giving your palm a rough kiss.

“You’re the Empress, after all. Fucking royalty and shit.” He was trying to play it off, to act like he’d been flirting and nothing more.

And you decided to join him in playing along. “Then why the fuck am I still wearing my dress?”

His wicked smile returned as his hands shot to your zipper, pulling it down harshly; you were pretty sure he might’ve ripped the dress as he tugged it over your head, but you didn’t care. He wasted no time getting your bra off, smiling at the sight of your bare breasts.

“Oh, I remember you two,” he chuckled, reaching up to grope them. His hands kneaded and tugged and squeezed until he was satisfied with your perky nipples and the groans flying out of your mouth. Determined to hear your pretty noises some more, he bucked up, the sensation more intense now that only two very thin pieces of material lay between you.

He flipped you over, resuming his position hovering over you. His mouth met yours sloppily as he began grinding his clothed length against you, torturing you, knowing you were desperate to get the last bit of his clothing off.

“Fucking tease,” you huffed, fiddling with the waistband of his boxers.

He chuckled and gave a painfully slow grind. “Oi, play nice,” he warned playfully, nipping at your swollen bottom lip. “Patience is a fucking virtue.”

With that, he tugged at your panties, sliding them down your thighs at that tantalizing pace of his. He watched your face shamelessly as your features twisted when you felt his hands brush past your heat.

“Roy,” you whined, bucking up. “Please.”

He throbbed at the sight of you: hair completely mussed, lips red and swollen, eyes glassy, stunning body frantically writhing beneath him, trying to get just a hint of friction. Despite how desperate you appeared, Roy knew the truth: you were in charge.

“Oh, gorgeous,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Just let me enjoy this. Let me enjoy you. Please.”

Unable to say no to the begging eyes he was giving you, you nodded and rocked your hips into his, your own eyes pleading with him to fucking touch you.

He obeyed and brought a strong hand down to your pussy, groaning when he felt how soaked you already were. “This for me?” When you nodded, he moaned again. “Fucking love it.” Though tempted to repeat Thursday night and devour your sweetness, Roy instead watched you carefully as he inserted two fingers into you, his cock twitching when he heard the lewd noises coming out of your mouth as you clenched around his fingers.

He set a slow pace, pumping in and out, practically drooling with the knowledge that soon, his cock would be replacing his lucky fingers. His mouth found yours again, greedily swallowing your moans, tasting your neediness on his tongue.

“Roy,” you hissed as he hit a particularly deep spot. “Give me my fucking trophy. Please.”

He chuckled, caught off-guard by the joking tone in your strangled voice. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Your whole body melted when Roy pulled down his boxers and you felt his hot tip, already leaking, press against you. Your hips bucked up to meet him, gasping when you felt him so fucking close to your entrance.

With your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, you missed the smile Roy had for you, watching you squirm before he’d even entered you. Fuck, if he thought you were a goddess up on the podium, you were otherworldly beneath him right now.

The kind of beauty a careless man could fall in love with.

He concealed a moan in your neck as he slowly buried himself in you, the gentle pace allowing his mind to come to terms with the fact that he was fucking the woman he’d spent far too many hours fantasizing about.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he felt you clench around him. “Fucking perfect.” He pressed his mouth to yours, stuffing your throat with his moans and hisses and fucks. Once he felt you relax and adjust to his size- filling you up even better than you’d ever imagined and- holy shit what is this heavenly curve you feel?- he began thrusting into you, setting a steady pace that had your toes curling.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, wondering how much closer two people could get, and gripped his chest, tugging at that dark hair, while his hands held your hips tight enough that you knew you’d have bruises in the morning.

If you’d thought the sounds from before were lewd, they were nothing to now. Roy was grunting and moaning like a madman, and you were pretty sure the people in the room next to yours could hear your cries of pleasure, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that Roy was in your bed, considering the way you moaned his name. And the wet sounds of skin on skin rounded out the dirty symphony that filled the room that would undoubtedly have that sweet smell of sex in the morning.

As you felt your climax build around his cock, you found yourself hoping, in some little part of your mind, that this wouldn’t be the last time you fucked Roy Kent.

You couldn’t dwell on the fleeting thought for long once he gave a particularly rough thrust, sending you over the edge. You spasmed in his grasp, babbling his name and fuck over and over. He chuckled through his own moans, pressing a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“Good girl,” he grunted, rocking you through your orgasm. “Fucking come for me. You fucking deserve it.”

For the second time, Roy Kent had you seeing stars as your walls gripped him so hard you were almost scared that you’d push him out. But he kept his pace, splitting you open and approaching his own climax.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. “Taking me so fucking well. Gonna fucking come for you.”

The blissed-out look on your face, with your glassy eyes and parted lips, sent him over the edge. He shuddered as he spilled into you, his forehead falling against yours. You groaned, your heart and pussy both fluttering at the feeling of being filled by Roy Kent.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, chuckling at the noise you made, a mix between a hiss and a whine, letting him know that you already missed the feeling of him. He rolled over onto his back, turning his head to gaze at you. You met his eyes with a heavenly smile.

“Well,” you chirped breathlessly, “if that’s the champion treatment, guess I’ll have to keep winning.”

He laughed and reached over to brush some hair out of your face. “I have no doubt that you will.”

You relished the fact that he left his palm on your cheek. “Spend the night.” It wasn’t a request or a question.

“Fucking tempting,” he hummed, letting out a disappointed sigh that had you frowning. “But I’m sharing a room with fucking Jamie. Prick’ll notice if I don’t come back.”

“Will Jamie Tartt wake you up with a blowjob?”

A smile- a wide, joyful smile- spread across that handsome face. “Well in that fucking case-” He pulled you to him and kissed your lips, letting his embrace assure you that, at least for tonight, Roy Kent wasn’t going anywhere.

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (07)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content mature content, nsfw (nothing too explicit, it gets interrupted), suggestive, making out, pet names, unresolved tension, fluff, sexual jokes, desperate rafe (mhmmmm), brief mention of cocaine

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 06 ! 07 ¡ 08

↳ yourusername replied to your story: hey… that’s not very nice :( 

Rafe kissed you. 

It wasn’t a dream, nor was it accidental. Rafe Cameron, whom you marked off limits, kissed you, and hell, did you enjoy every second of it. 

From that moment on, every minute you spent within his presence felt like living on edge; sneaking behind your brother’s back to enjoy his company, aware of the consequences, and the heartbreak that would result out of the truth. 

Liking Rafe was like a calm after the storm, the moment your eyes land on him, time stops, and you forget all your worries. How were you supposed to resist him, when he’s your only escape from reality? The only person who’s ever made your heart rate increase in pace within a span of seconds. 

Getting a casual conversation out of a guy, without it oscillating to something sexual was difficult in this society, however, with Rafe, it was easy. His eyes bloomed with more than just lust, it made all your doubts about finding the one fade, and that alone, would have younger you screaming. 

Because what do you mean there’s a man out there that lines up with everything you’ve dreamed of and more, the puzzle you’ve been missing your whole life, merely for him to end up being your brother’s best friend, someone so forbidden, it burns when his touch lingers.

A bob formed in your throat, one hard to swallow down, that as much as it stings, you chose to bear it, even if it goes against the trust you formed with your brother. You told yourself it was okay, Ryan won’t overreact if he found out, right?

With a few touches, you managed to head downstairs, with everyone rushing you to come out, starting with Ryan, who somehow managed to call you fifteen times in the span of a minute. To your surprise, it wasn’t him driving, though, but Rafe? 

You slightly halted when he greeted you with a smile, one hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pair of sunglasses hugged the bridge of his nose, covering the glint of cockiness swelling through his gaze. 

Reaching for the door handle, you quickly smiled at the sight of Sarah as she perked up from her seat once she seized sight of you. A grin formed on your lips, joining the girl’s side, completely forgetting yourself in her embrace, that Ryan’s scoldings barely registered in your system.

“Your brother is such a dick,” she joked, eyebrows furrowing with fake annoyance. “I couldn’t even properly get ready ‘cause of him.” 

“Me?” He gasped, irritated by the ‘false’ remark. “You’re the one busy eating your boyfriend’s face!” 

“Why am I getting involved?” John B chimed from Sarah’s side. “I was helping her out.” 

“Yeah?” Ryan muttered in a mocking tone, “How so?” 

“I do not want to know that.” Rafe clicked his teeth, dismissing Ryan’s question with his statement. 

“You shut the fuck up.” Ryan scoffed, a sour expression smeared over his face. “Lending JJ my car? God knows what will happen to it.” 

“JJ’s not a bad driver…” you trailed off, earning a dirty glare from your brother. “What?! Unless he’s drunk off his mind, then you’re good. He was always in charge of Twinkie.” 

“That horrendous Van?” Ryan asked, voice filled with disbelief. “My baby and that ugly thing are two different things, don’t you dare compare them.” 

“Alright man,” John B started, “At least it gets the job done.” 

“Why are you picking a fight with everyone?” Rafe chuckled, pulling out of the driveway. “Sit back and relax, don’t stress your pretty lil’ brain out.” 

“Gross.” Sarah muttered under her breath, nose scrunching with disgust. 

“Can I get aux?” You asked, earning Rafe’s attention as he seeked the chord plugged to the speakers, immediately offering it to you from over his shoulder when it was within his reach. “Thank you.” 

“Mhm.” He hummed, the grogginess in his tone rattling through your chest. 

“Why is she in control of aux?” Ryan perked up at the act, addressing Rafe with his question. “I thought we agreed I’d be in charge.” 

“That’s in bed, baby.” Rafe flashed him a tight-lipped smile, sparing him a glimpse for a second, before his attention was back on the road. His fingers found the curve of Ryan’s jaw, using the tip of the digits to scratch the latter’s chin. 

“Move!” He slapped Rafe’s hand away, lips jutting into a frown. “Why’s everyone ganging up on me today?” 

“‘Kay, stop acting like a bitch.” You started, further getting on your brother’s nerves. “Should’ve stayed home.” 

Rafe’s arm blocked Ryan from shooting off his seat, a glint of amusement smothering through his expression. If one could calm Ryan, it was definitely Rafe. Considering their differences, they get along quite well, perhaps why they’ve made it together far this long. 

The rest of the car ride filled with havoc, as both you and Sarah sang along to the lyrics, while John B sat back and watched, admiring his girlfriend with so much love, you were envious. Oh to openly stare and have it not be a problem; was that too much to ask for? 

A pit of jealousy laid low in your stomach, gaze shifting back to Rafe, whose eyes were glued to the road. Or so you thought, as his pupils caught you staring through the rearview mirror, not breaking the contact in hopes of you noticing him, even for a mere second. 

The action was cut short when Ryan took notice of the situation, eyebrows furrowing with puzzlement as he directed his attention to you in a swift movement. His face pressed to the leather seats, reaching over the dashboard, and flicking your arm with the intent of capturing your focus. 

“Where’s your wallet?” He asked, voice muffled due to the melody playing in the background. 

“My wallet?” You repeated, afraid you heard the phrase wrong. “Why do you need my wallet?” 

“I put my ID in there,” he explained, searching for the object with his gaze. “Figured you’d have it on you.” 

You rolled your eyes, patting around your seat, in an attempt to grab your wallet, instantly coming to a halt as realization washed over. “Wait.” 

“What?” Ryan mumbled. 

“Did I get my wallet?” You asked, the question mostly to yourself. “I think I forgot my wallet.” You stated, peeking down the seats, in case it fell by accident. “You idiot, this is all your fault!” 

“How is it my fault?!” He shot back, “Who forgets their wallet? That’s totally on you!” 

“Yeah, own one then come talk.” You stifled out a sarcastic laugh, crying out with frustration. “This is so annoying, can’t we go back?” 

“That’s a twenty minute drive from here.” Rafe answered, “I’d go back, but that would delay our plans.” 

“Yeah,” Sarah agreed, rubbing soothing circles to the blade of your shoulder. “It’s fine, you can jus’ use my card, baby.” 

“It’s okay Sarah,” you groaned, falling back in your seat. “That’s not necessary.” 

“Oh come on, are you scared I’ll put you on a budget?” Sarah teased, attempting to ease your discomfort. “Don’t worry, I’ll sugar mama you.” 

A giggled escaped your throat at her words, mockingly sticking out your tongue when Ryan flipped you off. While Sarah strived to comfort you, worry yet washed over your expression, contemplating how you were going to spend the next few hours, with nothing but your phone on you. 

The passing few minutes felt like an eternity upon your arrival, quickly joined by your friends once Rafe was all parked. It was fun, despite your friends insisting they’d pay for you, you still refused, shaking your head anytime they offered to buy you something that caught your interest. 

Rafe noticed your shift in mood, cracking a joke every now and then, for a mere reaction out of you. And surprisingly, it worked, the latter managed to squeeze a giggle out of you, ridiculed by the horrible dad jokes he added in between conversations. 

“Is it hot?” Rafe questioned, eyebrows furrowing with concern at the droplets of sweat trickling down your neck. 

“Hmm?” You hummed, lips jutting with confusion. “It’s not bad.” 

“Yeah?” He teased, gaze flickering to your hand, as you patted your neck dry with the gesture. “Want something to drink?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head, admiring while your friends observed the handbags displayed on the counter. “I’m fine.” 

“Hey uh,” Rafe’s voice suddenly broke out, earning everyone’s attention in the process. “We’re grabbing drinks, do you guys want anything?

Your gaze fixed on Rafe with disbelief, taken aback when he tugged your wrist, nodding along to your friends’ requests. Ryan took in the scene with confusion, mind racing with all sorts of thoughts, over why he shouldn’t reach over and yank Rafe’s hold off, forcing the fact that he was his best friend, he wouldn’t do such a thing, and betray his trust. 

And if Rafe saw, he didn’t say a thing, choosing to not acknowledge it as he dragged you with him to the main lobby surrounded by different varieties of fast foods’ restaurants. Rafe let go of your hand, upon standing in line, with you already missing the warmness of his touch, breath hitching when he stood close enough for you to take a whiff of his musky cologne.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Rafe flashed the cashier a polite smile once it was your turn, eyes hovering over the menu displayed on the screens. “Can I get a uhh…” 

You took Rafe's side while he listed your friends’ orders, stiffening when he turned to face you, with the purpose of asking for what you wanted. “I’ll get a milkshake.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, observing the milkshake options on the menu. “What flavor would you like?” 

“Whatever that’s available.” You stammered, clearing your throat as your eyes flickered to where Rafe was looking, trailing off before you muttered your next sentence. “Chocolate’s fine.” 

“We’ll take one chocolate milkshake, then.” Rafe informed the cashier, flashing him a tight-lipped smile as he handed him his card. 

The cashier passed Rafe the receipt, politely asking you two to step to the side, while waiting for your order to finish. You obliged to the request, following in Rafe’s steps as he took a corner, snorting when he plopped his arm over the counter, for the mere purpose of supporting his weight. 

“What?” He chuckled, toying with the straws presented in the cup. “What’s so funny, Bug?” 

“Don’t call me that.” You jokingly huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Is this about your wallet?” He cooed, poking your side with one of the straws. “Why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset.” You repeated, denying the assumption, though the boy had you practically figured out. “You’re annoying.” 

“Yeah, and you’re grumpy.” He scrunched his nose, the gesture playful, teasing you in a way. “Whatever you want, buy it, I’ll pay for you.” 

“I spend a lot of money, Rafe.” You uttered, ridiculed by his words. “Sure you can handle it?” 

“Well,” he leaned down, voice dropping barely above a whisper. “Can you spend as much as I can earn?” 

That earned a scuff out of you, rolling your eyes as you lightly smacked his shoulder, the action rattling a chuckle out of Rafe. Your face flushed with heat , remaining silent to suppress your flustered state from taking over your expression. 

It didn’t take long before you were heading back, with the drinks ceased in your hold, as well as Rafe’s. Your friends were quick to help out, handing each person their order, while they offered you a smile of gratitude in return for your act of kindness. 

Conversation with Rafe flowed like water, lifting your spirits, and cracking a smile of you every time he’d lean down and whisper hushed words into your ears. The action was subtle, you were sure none of your friends picked up on the way you’d tense each time Rafe stood too close, or made his presence known, shamefully letting his gaze flicker to your parted lips while your brother stood a few inches away, unaware of the latter’s intentions, and the tension seeping through the thick air. 

Speaking of Ryan, the boy wandered off, leaving you and your friends behind, though that swiftly oscillated as each of you split into pairs, leaving you with Rafe, who did everything in his power to cut through the silence building up. 

You brushed off his statements with short sentences, your dry responses settling a pang of guilt through your chest, intents far from hurting the latter, only realizing the switch in Rafe’s mood after you glanced up, and noticed the look of disappointment smothered all over his face. 

Your attention fixed on the several fragrance bottles splayed on the shelf, misting the aroma over the paper samples to sniff each one. Rafe stood and watched, whirling your shake (God knows how that ended up in his hold) around with a lack of enthusiasm, failing to hide the fact that he wasn’t interested in what you were doing. 

One of the perfumes piqued your curiosity, spraying it on your wrist to take another whiff, the soft vanilla scent intoxicating your senses. You suddenly turned to face Rafe, a smile spreading across your lips when he halted, lips extending with confusion at your sudden burst of excitement. 

“What is it?” He mumbled, brows pinching in a knot. 

“This one smells so good,” You uttered, taking a step forward, then pausing to ask your next question. “Do you wanna smell?” 

“Sure.” He instantly straightened up, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Without thinking, you moved your arm ahead, offering the boy the patch of perfume sprayed on your hand, the action deemed innocent, catching Rafe off guard as he froze. He took a moment to process how close you were, now merely separated by your wrist as it blocked his vision from landing on your face, and hell, did you look pretty up close, though the majority of your features were covered.

Rafe hesitated, processing the risky ponders wandering through his head with haste, letting his impulsive thoughts take over as his fingers seized control of your wrist, inching it closer to his chin before he planted a gentle peck to the palm of your hand. 

His hold lingered around your wrist, his mouth burning hot over your flesh, and spiraling a rush of adrenaline through your veins. A shuddered sigh barely escaped your parted lips, fluttering your eyes up at the latter, your flustered expression not much of help; smearing a mischievous smile across his lips.

“What are you doing?’You stuttered through a breath, hastily retrieving your hand from Rafe’s hold.

“Smelling it,” he explained, acting as if the action was the most normalest thing ever. “You asked me to smell it, did you not?” 

“I did,” you shot back with frustration, pupils narrowing with the flutter of your chest, feeling your pulse quicken under Rafe’s gaze. “I said to smell it, not kiss it.”

“What’s wrong?” He chuckled, pointing his finger in your direction. “Are you shy?” 

“What?” Your face twisted with fake annoyance, glimpsing around before you lightly kicked his knee. “No, Rafe. What if someone saw you?” 

“I don’t care.” He stifled out a sarcastic laugh, amused by your reaction. 

“Yeah?” You forced your lips into a fake smile, ridiculed by Rafe’s lack of worry. “And how will you explain whatever that was to Ryan, Mr. I don’t care?” 

“He’ll understand.” Rafe mocked, grabbing the perfume you sprayed from the shelf. “How can I hold myself back, when you’re this beautiful, baby?”

There it was, baby. The pet name only made your heart race more, the sound so loud, you heard it echoing through your ears.

A hitched breath knocked out of your chest, taken aback by the sudden boldness seeping through Rafe’s tone, your shyness only encouraging him more. You cleared your throat, grabbing the drink from his hold before facing away, afraid you’d crumble if you stared any longer. 

“Shut up.” You dismissed, faking interest in the purses displayed on the shelf. “Don’t do that again.” 

“‘Won’t make any promises.” He clicked his teeth, grabbing a packaged perfume from next to the various ones on display. “Do you want to get it?” 

“No.” You shook your head, politely refusing with a glimpse over your shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

“Alright,” he nodded, streaking past you, and heading straight towards the line. “We’re getting it.” 

“That’s not necessary, Rafe.” You muttered through gritted teeth, avoiding the weird looks you received when Rafe dodged your attempt at snatching the boxed fragrance. 

While you were stubborn, the latter was twice as stubborn as you were, insisting on buying it, despite you refusing. And true to his intentions, Rafe ends up purchasing the perfume for you, a defeated scoff exiting your throat when he flashed you a sheepish grin, proud of his accomplishment. 

A sigh of relief tumbled past your mouth when you spotted Cleo, along with Pope, taking the scene as an opportunity to escape Rafe’s side; though that wasn’t a choice, with the blond practically gluing to you, following in your steps like a lost  puppy. 

It didn’t take long for the rest to join in, deciding it was a good time to leave upon the stores closing, one followed by another. Ryan contently retrieved his keys from JJ, fetching Pope, Cleo, and JJ, while the rest of you stuck in a group, the ride back filling with chaos, as yet, another karaoke session broke out, excpet this time, it involved lots of heartbreaks. 

A new category. 

The majority of your evening was consumed by the ocean waves rocketing, while you and your friends messed around. You let your worries go for once, heart swelling with happiness, one you didn’t think could be ruined.

Things were perfect, as you reunited with your friends, got to spend your summer vacation with them, and you met Rafe. You haven’t been happier since, it terrified you, heart stinging with horror, because you refused to believe this wasn’t ending on a bad note, hence it was a little too perfect.

The night ended off quite earlier than you had expected, with your friends excusing themselves to bed after movie night. Rafe subtly sneaked a smile your way, mouthing ‘goodnight’ before disappearing off to his room. 

That being said, you strived to fall asleep, resetting your progress every time you’d accidently unlatched your eyes, a huff of frustration escaping your throat in the process. You were too overwhelmed to sleep, unable to suppress the foolish grin masking your lips as what happened earlier stumbles across your mind, the vivid image of Rafe’s expression creating a flustered mess out of you. 

You tried not to think about it, being as quiet as physically possible, to avoid stirring Kiara’s slumber, anything but wanting to disturb her sleep. A random video played on your phone, a mere background noise as your brain, yet wandered back to the situation, zoning out, and fully abandoning the device in your hold. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a ping, attention shifting back to the bright screen, almost gasping when you caught the contact of the sender. 

It was Rafe. (not one person is surprised)

rafe 👍: You awake?

Sent, 12:55 am

You: ?? hello

rafe 👍: Hi baby

Your face flushed with heat, unfamiliar with the latter constantly using pet names, the act surprising, never failing to make your heart flutter. 

You: why are you awake?

rafe 👍: Hmm

rafe 👍: Probably the same reason you are

A laugh stifled out of your throat at the message, hurrying to type back a response.

You: yeah 🤨

You: and what reason must that be

Rafe’s text bubble appeared and disappeared, fingers hesitatingly hovering over the screen, while you awaited the latter’s answer. 

rafe 👍: I 

rafe 👍: I can’t stop thinking about you

rafe: It’s driving me crazy

Oh. 

Oh. 

You: stop being an idiot

You: go to sleep its late

rafe 👍: I’m not fucking around

rafe 👍: Wanna see you so bad

Your eyes fluttered with utmost desire, digging your teeth through your bottom lip, merely to confirm this wasn't a dream. 

You: we’ll see eo tmr 

rafe 👍: You think

rafe 👍: I can wait til’ tomorrow? 

rafe 👍: I can't Yn

rafe 👍: Can I come to your room

You: Huh

You: what

You: for what?

rafe 👍: Js’ wanna see you baby

rafe 👍: Am I not allowed to do that?

You nervously gulped, well aware he wanted more than to just see you; both of you did. 

You: kies asleep

rafe 👍: Okay 

rafe 👍: I’ll be fast

The desperation in his tone squeezes a shy snort out of you, sitting up in bed as you typed out a reply. 

You: don’t come

You: stay in your room

rafe 👍:  What

rafe 👍: Why? 

You: i’ll

You: come to you

rafe 👍: Shit wait

rafe 👍: Are you serious?

rafe 👍: Don’t fuck with me 

You: is anyone by you

rafe 👍: NOo

rafe 👍: No one is by me

rafe 👍: I’m all alone

you: alr

you: im coming

You don’t know whether it was the sleep heaving your eyes, or the desire engulfing your insides,  however, you felt sure of your decision, leisurely pulling the covers off your figure, before you hastily made your way out, with the purpose of seeking Rafe. 

A knock is all it took, with the latter quickly unlatching the door, chest rising and falling with a breath once he caught sight of you. His gaze trailed down to your satin sleep set, perfectly adorning your figure, that holding himself back felt far out of the picture. 

“Hi.” You sheepishly greeted the latter, growing nervous under his gaze. At that, Rafe’s head shoots up, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat. 

“Hey,” he shot back, clutching the doorknob with force. “Come in.” 

You accepted the invitation, steps slow as you let yourself inside, observing the plain furniture, so boring,yet screaming Rafe’s name. “Your room is nice.” 

“Thanks.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head once he shut the door, eyes roaming everywhere but your face. 

He was starting to regret this, tempting himself when he knows he can’t handle another minute with you this far away, wanting nothing but to seize the distance, cross the now invisible line and fuck it. 

“You’re welcome.” You hummed, lips pursing into a thin line. 

Tension seeped through the air, heaving the atmosphere with lust, desire; all your wants and needs. 

“Why did you want to see me?” You abruptly asked, approaching the door once again, a few feet down from Rafe. A chuckle escaped your lips, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “In the middle of the night, too? You’re not slick, Cameron.”

Mhm, that made things even worse. 

“Do I need a reason to see you now?” He answered you with another question, casually, but deliberately approaching you. “You think I’m that bad?” 

“No.” You whispered, fingers clutching the fabric of your shorts, reminiscing over the memory of his lips colliding with yours after your back firmly pressed to the door, chest immediately swelling with Deja Vu. “It was a joke.” 

“Yeah?” He mumbled, voice dropping to match yours. “You think that night was a mistake?”

“What night?” You stiffened, prior to acknowledging his question, as you’ve done nothing but avoid it over the past few days. 

“The night I kissed you.” He further clarified, his figure swallowing yours as he hovered over you. “You regret it?” 

“Why are you bringing that up?” You nearly choked on your own spit at the confrontation, goosebumps breaking out across your arms when the tip of his fingers lightly traced over your forearm, the sensation like feathers to your flesh. 

“Don’t know,” he replies, vision going blurry. “Wanna know how you feel.” 

A shaky sigh managed its way past your lips, mouth gaping to speak, but instead met with utter silence in return. Rafe’s eyes glinted with keen, seeking an answer out of you; a response to all his problems and more. 

But nothing. 

“I’ll leave.” You started, words far from what you wanted. “It’s getting late.”

Rafe’s face fell at that, chest swelling with disappointment as he shifted to step back, giving you enough space to squeeze through. “Right, you should; ‘s totally my fault for keeping you up.” 

One word. That’s all you wanted to hear; don’t. 

However, you were both idiots, too afraid to express your feelings for each other, hesitating over the possibilities of what if’s.

So what if Ryan found out? 

You like Rafe, so much it stings knowing you can’t have him, your said brother being the reason he’s forbidden. He’s your blood, though, him of all people should know how much this means to you, hence he’s witnessed all your horrific experiences with dating. 

Telling Ryan wasn’t the problem, it was you all along; teetering to make the first move, let your impulsive thoughts win and claim him, move forward and crash your lips on his, it was all on you for putting other people’s priorities over yours. 

Putting yourself first spoke like no other, and that’s exactly what you did as you grabbed Rafe by the collar of his shirt, wasting no time before you collided his lips with yours. 

Rafe’s eyes widened with shock, arms awkwardly hanging to his sides as you captured his bottom lip in between your own, proceeding with the gesture when you angled your head to the side, intending to deepen the kiss. 

Rafe didn’t do anything though, he froze in his spot, not daring to move, even after you mustered up the courage to kiss him. Panic immediately washed over as you pulled away, mouth moving faster than your brain while muttering your next words. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You apologized, guilt evident in your expression. “I thought you wanted this– I didn’t mean to force anything on you, we can jus’ act like this never happened, I don’t m–”

Your rambling cut short, interrupted when Rafe sweeped you in an eager kiss, the action desperate, seeking closure through it. You contently kissed him back, yelping when his arm found the curve of your waist, applying enough pressure to seize control of your body. 

The latter almost stumbled over his own feet, nearly falling in the process of leading you to the bed. Rafe took action when he noticed your struggle to keep up, hands traveling to the back of your thighs, and before you knew it, the boy scooped you in a swift movement, your legs latching to his sides for support.

Your arms wrapped around Rafe’s neck, moaning as he nibbled the plump of your lip with the graze of his teeth, using your parted lips as an opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, letting the warmth of your spit coat his own. 

His tongue swirled over yours, managing to plop himself on the edge of the bed, all while squeezing and kneeding your ass, chasing after your pleasure with each time you squirmed in his hold. 

“Fuck,” rafe muffled in between kisses, “Taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” 

A moan rolls off your tongue at the praise, mind hazing with despair as Rafe’s hot breath fanned over your face, the warmth tickling your skin, and sending shivers down your spine. Rafe wasted no time, fingers finding the hem of your shirt, the tip of his digits teasingly toying with it.

You whined into his mouth, protesting to the wait he’s putting you through, hips unintentionally rolling down over his crotch in the process, almost folding when you felt him twitch at the gesture. Rafe hissed at the contact, swiftly pressing your hips down in place, the hardon in his pants not being much of help. 

“Don’t fucking do that.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. “God, you’re killing me.” 

“Rafeee,” you cooed, throwing your head back with the intent of arching your back, panties now soaked with your juices. “Feels s’ good.” 

“You’re a mess.” Rafe teased, stifling out a laugh. He purposely halted, testing your limits, and how far you can go without crumbling in his hold. “So desperate for me, aren’t you?.” 

“Fucking do something.” Your nails dug to his shoulders with force, well aware your hold would bruise, already forming red marks with the touch. “Don’t jus’ tease me.” 

“You’re being a brat.” He chuckled with amusement, gaze landing on your cleavage, now half exposed from him groping the delicate flesh. “Thought you were a good girl, baby.” 

At that, your breath hitched, forehead leaning against Rafe’s when his fingers lightly traced over your breasts, the sensation like feathers to your skin. He licked a stripe of your tit, the warmth of his spit coating the outer shell of your boob. 

Rafe took your chest in his hold, action falling short as a knock suddenly erupted through the door, startling both of you out of your haze and despair. You instantly froze, pushing Rafe off to spare him a glance, almost as if to ask what the noise was. 

“Aye Rafe.” The familiar voice echoed through your ears, causing your heart to sink to the pit of your stomach. “Are you in there?” 

“That’s Ryan.” Rafe beat you to speaking, words stating the obvious. 

“No shit it’s Ryan.” You sarcastically whisper-yelled, “What is he doing here?” 

“I don’t know!” Rafe shrugged his shoulders. “I thought he was asleep.” 

Both of you turned with panic when the doorknob twisted back and fourth, indicating the latter was trying to open the door. “Aye come on, open up; I know you’re awake.” 

“Shit, we’re in trouble.” You nervously bit your lip, scrambling to get off his lap. Rafe fixed his shirt, adjusting his position to hide the hardon visible in his pants. “What do we do?” 

“Okay– shit, wait.” Rafe took a breath, observing the room with frustration. “I’ll hide in the closet, you open the door and shoo him away.” 

“It’s your room, dude.” Your face scrunched with disbelief, “I’m the one that should be hiding.” 

“No, yeah, right.” The latter nodded, pacing back and forth. “Where should you hide?” 

“Not the closet,” you shook your head, checking under the bed. “I’m claustrophobic.” 

“Under the bed?” Rafe suggested, eyeing the somewhat narrowed place, though it was slightly bigger than the said closet.

“Okay–” you winced as another thud erupted through the door, rushing to bend down, and slide under the bed. “Be fast, please.” 

Rafe nodded, flashing you a reassuring smile before fixing up the covers, vision now glistening with dimness. You perked up at the sound of the door creaking, groaning when Ryan’s footsteps practically shook the floor. He plopped himself on the bed, with Rafe hissing at the gesture, knowing your brother probably startled you with the action. 

And he did, but that wasn’t the point. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe asked, sprawling himself next to Ryan. 

“I got some yayo,” Ryan whispered with a chuckle, probably already high by the tone of his voice. “Figured we could smoke it together.” 

“At one past midnight?” Rafe argued. 

“So what?” Ryan shrugged, ruffling his hand in the plastic bag he spread out on the bed. “You’re actin’ as if we’ve never done it before, this is not– wait, what?” 

Rafe paused before responding, face turning pale. “What?” 

“Is that Bug’s phone?” Ryan questioned, smile fading off his lips. “What is my sister’s phone doing in your room?”

Shit, your phone.

a/n all support is v much appreciated!! i honestly have no idea how i got this out bye literally stress wrote almost the whole thing and im surviving off three hours of sleep mind you for the past two days AND i also finished most of this on the plane so feel special... i cherish my plane rides but i put you guys first since ily 😣 that being said i spent the past like eight hours finishing it up HELP yeah sorry to disappoint mama tried her best 💔 nsfw part is not detailed on purpose i want to put my badussy for their first time yeah (it wont be explicit dw) 💪💪

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[poguehearted77]

Portugal Nights

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Portugal Nights-> The day was tense. Rehearsals were much more heated than the lines intended and the thin rubber band of restraint holding you both apart was bound to snap, and it finally does.

This belongs to my OBX Season 5: Payback For Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

smut: lots of making out (they've both needed this forever lol), oral sex (f! and m! receiving) , heavy petting, hickeys, shower sex, hand holding, protected sex and unprotected :( , drew is so pussy whipped omg, just passionate sex tbh, sex everywhere?? lmao.

"Action!"

Rafe paces back and forth in the abandoned dungeon-like room with his hands on his head, plotting desperately. You're surrounded by nothing but eroding walls, stained with foreign substances. There's dried blood on the floor that adds slight resistance with every lift of his heel.

You fume silently every time you look at the tall blonde who can't seem to stand still. You reflect on how he got you both in this mess in the first place and your eyes roll reflexively.

Earlier today, a little before dawn you and the pogues had just docked in Portugal, wasting no time to try to find Finch's fortress so you could find Groff, but you were being followed.

You noticed it first around sunset but kept it to yourself not wanting to distract the pogues from the objective of the mission in case you were wrong.

You'd all set up camp a little outside the city, not wanting to catch the attention of any civilians. However, you didn't rest. Not when you knew trackers tend to get a little careless as the sun slips below the horizon. Relying on the shadows of darkness to conceal their footprints and hide their silhouettes.

"I'm gonna scope the area a bit," You said, flipping your signature steel weapon up in the air and catching it coolly as you entered the darkness of the shrubs and out of sight. "I'm goin' after her." Rafe declares, already trailing behind you as Sarah calls for him but it falls on deaf, determined ears.

He's trekking closely behind you, so you stop walking and convey your message without even turning to face him. "Another step closer Rafe and I swear to god they'll have to dislodge steel from places you can't even name." He doesn't back down, nor does he step closer.

"I don't trust you." He says, and you scoff. "I don't care, Rafe," You finally turn, "Why don't you do us both a favour and go back to the others, yeah? I got this." For a moment he goes silent, almost like he didn't know what to say.

"No comeback? No insult?-" You start, always looking for a fair fight with him.

"Shut up." Rafe snaps back, stepping closer to you and your arms crossed while you plant your feet firmly where they are, refusing to let anything about the rich boy intimidate you.

"Looks like I finally got under your skin-" It's all a blur when he suddenly cups a hand over your mouth to silence you, "Will you shut the fuck up?" His words are delivered in a harsh whisper as his eyes scan your surroundings suspiciously.

At that moment, there was no Piper and Rafe. It's you and Drew. He met yours with a wild gaze, something unhinged about the way he was looking at you. Not as sincere and admirable as the longing stares from across the room that you're used to--no, this was something much more perilous.

"You hear that?" He whispers, softer this time. There's another rustle in the bushes around you. Shit.

With your backs turned and the area being so dark, the opposers use the darkness to their advantage and strike you both in the back of the head, knocking you out cold.

Which brings you to where you are now.

"For the love of god, will you stop the back and forth? You're driving me insane." You exclaim from where you rest against the contaminated walls.

"Listen," He now stalks to you slowly, like a predator approaching its prey. "I'm a proactive type of person. I'm not just gonna sit on my ass all day and let Finch come back and kill us!"

"Us? This didn't have to involve you! Maybe if you'd just taken that stick out of your ass for once and stayed with the group you could've saved yourself the trouble." Kicking yourself off the wall, you shout as loud as you can but he doesn't flinch.

Rafe's chest heaves rapidly, trying to calm himself down. "Well we're here now, and If I'm ever gonna make it back home, I have to get out of here alive."

You stand still, silent. Analyzing his features and expression, but your silence makes him uncomfortable and it etched across his face,

"Who is she?" The question is simple, and straightforward, yet far too complicated for Rafe to understand.

"What?" He questions.

Over the last few days you'd spent near the pogues, you'd gotten to know most of them quite well. All except Rafe that is.

"Your dad is dead, your little sister and your money are under your stepmother's possession. What do you have to go back to? Who is drawing you back?" He gulps, his defences crumbling evidently as his shoulders slumped.

For once, he didn't fight you on it.

Sofia. That's the name he shares with you and a little about their recent argument.

"Jus' don't tell anyone, alright? I don't need the others knowing more than they should." You shrug, "I have no reason to tell them about your cute wittle wove story." You couldn't stop yourself from teasing him.

Rafe charges towards you in anger with a glint of jest. You try to run backwards, away from him but your shoe is bound to the floor credit to the various adhesives meant to replicate stains and puddles.

By the time Drew realizes you aren't moving, it's too late and his body is already colliding with yours. Tangling together and sending you both tumbling to the ground with Drew between your legs and his head buried in the side of your neck.

You can hear the blood pumping in your ears. Drew's body completely covering yours on set in front of the crew should have you rolling out from underneath him and returning to reality, but no. There you lay, daring to glance into the piercing blue eyes that were already staring at you.

You take into account the notes of his cologne as they intermingle with the detergent of his clothes. The combination clouds your judgement and sends you reeling into a headspace you've been avoiding for the last three months.

You're in deep. Too deep.

"Cut!" Drew gets up like a kid caught red-handed before offering you a helping hand that you take graciously meanwhile the other guides you at the waist so lightly you'd barely notice it was there had your body not been burning at a thousand degrees.

Something is off. Usually, the two of you would be in knots of laughter after something like this, instead only the crew had giggles to go around but you both stood still. Unmoving, eyes locked on each other, looking within.

Could he see you? You wonder, does he know what you're thinking?

You swallow hard, your lips parting to say something, but no words come out. Instead, your gaze flickers to his mouth, and you catch him doing the same thing, just for a split second before he looks away. His jaw tightens as he shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping back, but the tension doesn’t break.

--

The day progresses into a warm summer night as the cast and crew gather at a charming Portuguese restaurant perched high in the city's hills. Lanterns nestled among lush potted plants cast a warm glow, while fairy lights drape elegantly from flowers cascading down from the ceiling, creating a dreamlike ambiance.

The long table overlooks the rolling hills below, their silhouettes dotted with the golden lights of the nearby city. Beyond, the navy-toned ocean stretches out, its gentle waves shimmering under the moonlight, completing the serene view.

The laughter is bubbly as the champagne flows between the tables. The cast looked amazing tonight, everyone had put on their best outfits for a fun night out with their castmates.

While Madelyn and Carlacia posed for a selfie together, Chase helped himself to the last bread roll left in the baskets the waiters had left earlier.

"Did you--" Drew titls the basket towards him so he can analyze the full damage of Chase's consumption. They both laugh, realizing the basket is completely void. "Maybe if we weren't waiting on JD and Y/n, we could get some real food going around."

The sole mention of your name has Drew on edge. He's recently lost the ability to control his own reactions around you as his body surrenders to the very mention of your name.

"Speak of the devil," Chase says as you and JD enter the restaurant side by side, a little embarrassed. "Fashionably late, as always." Madelyn remarks and you giggle.

"I'm sorry guys! I couldn't find my shoes and I extorted Jonathan for his kindness, so don't get mad at him." Your voice is sweet as you make your way around the table. Drew felt as though there were noise-cancelling headphones blocking out any surround sound.

His eyes fulfill their god-given purpose and stay glued to your frame--a very well-dressed frame might he add. You look stunning. He notices that you styled your hair differently. He's unsure if it's personal preference or a maintenance concern, but you rarely wore your natural curls out.

You're always opting to straighten them or put them up, but he thinks it amplifies your allure tenfold. Maybe he's just biased. That must be the case when he realizes he hasn't taken a breath since you walked in.

You situate yourself in the last empty seat between Madelyn and Chase, directly in front of Drew. Oh, this should be fun.

He clears his throat behind a closed fist, glancing up at you by chance and catching your gaze by luck. He does a double take and straightens up. "You look, just--" The words fade on him and he prays the ground would burst open at the seams and swallow him.

"Thank you, so do you." You return the half-finished compliment. However, it's for the best you don't say much about how Drew looks tonight. You're not sure you'd be able to conclude the sentence without the words 'edible', or 'sex on legs'.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, JD leans forward to whisper to Madison. "Remember that bet we made for Drew and Y/n, you predicted they'd get together within three months, and guess what? It'll be three months at midnight."

Madison giggles with a playful roll of her eyes. "What? Do you have this on your calendar or something?" JD does in fact proceed to show her his calendar with a marked date that says "Pay Day." Her eyes squint at him, "You are so ridiculous do you know that? I'm not backing down. The night is still young." She grins, and JD just shakes his head at the girl in clear denial.

The night flows on, filled with warmth and familiar laughter circulating the tables as everyone enjoys their conversations. You glanced down into your lap while Chase recounted a funny moment from earlier today on set.

You're anxiously considering if you should succumb to your sinful nature of greed and steal another glance at the breathtaking man sitting across the table.

You shouldn’t glance up—you know you shouldn’t—but you do anyway, and there he is, already watching you. The corner of his mouth curls into the faintest, most maddening smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You hate to admit it but it intimidates you. The weight of his gaze sends an electric chill down your spine, prompting you to shift in your seat. Drew reaches for a sip of water from the crystal glass on the table while you shift in place.

You cross your legs and your left heel accidentally brushes the inside of Drew's leg and he chokes. He quickly shields it behind a cough and you look like a deer caught in headlights as his ice-blue orbs are piercing through you.

Your foot hasn't moved, but you decided not to provoke him any further and retract it back within your bounds. Your heart is racing and suddenly you're the one reaching for a glass of water to satiate your thirst, but you both know it's an impossible task since there's only one remedy and he's sitting right in front of you.

-

By midnight the cast made it back to their rooms, ready to unwind from a long day and eventful night meanwhile you're stuck. Your mind is bouncing between the walls that seem to get closer the more you pace back and forth.

You've been at it for the last 5 minutes since you made it back to your room. Any normal person would be putting the night behind them and getting ready for bed--but no.

You're not normal. You're obsessed.

Pathetically hooked on the idea of a man who's just 3 doors down the hall--completely oblivious to the trainwreck Drew was making of himself because of you.

You're chewing at your fingernails, contemplating just knocking on his door. Is that crazy? What if it's all in your head?

The latter possibility didn't weigh enough to hold you back from any impulsive decisions as you're stepping over to his door with your heels still on and all it takes is one deep breath before you're raising your hand to knock but it swings open before it makes contact.

Drew looks like he hadn't taken a seat since he got back either. He looks restless, frazzled, and maybe even frustrated. His chest halts on the incline as he holds his breath, startled to see exactly who he'd been looking for standing right in front of him.

His eyes rake over your figure frantically as if trying to decipher if you're truly standing in front of him.

"Hi," You breathe out, your head angled up to admire his perfect features while he stares down at you.

"Hey," His voice is soft, struggling to mask the undertone of sheer need.

Your mouth gapes, hesitating to say something but you decide to let your body speak for itself. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and tug him down so your lips crash against his.

The dam finally bursts and Drew's hands fly to wrap around your waist and pull you inside, swiftly closing the door behind you before he has you pinned up against it. His lips worked desperately along the expanse of your neck, trying to be mindful about his marks but he couldn't help himself. He's wanted this for so long-- Needed you for so long.

"Drew-" You gasp as he sucked particularly hard just below your ear, it sends you reeling and your eyes roll back with the little bit of your sanity that remains. "Hm?" He hums into the sweet scent of your skin, the same scent that's taunted him for months.

"Never mind." You dismiss yourself and resume the heated kisses that were paired with your desperate hands. You hastily unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped the back of your dress, all while never breaking the kiss.

It's intense. Your hands ghost over the definition of his abs and he tenses a little as he curses under his breath. Every ounce of contact you made with his body, lit his skin on fire.

Your dress puddles around your ankles once it meets the floor and Drew wastes no time before he's slowly sinking to his knees, your head shakes repeatedly but no words escape.

You're not even sure why you're denying it, your body wasn't functioning correctly--but could you blame it? You had thee Drew Starkey on his knees for you, and he was about to put his mouth to good great use.

Your point is proved once he had your panties on the floor and one leg hooked over his shoulder. His tongue lapped over your folds, languidly at first, as if to test the passion-infested waters.

"Drew--please." That's all it takes. One airy breath from you and he's consuming you from the core. His nose brushes against your clit every so often as his warm, wet tongue slides over your cunt with an unnatural hunger.

Your hands reach out to hold on to something, anything, but you're left to scratch at the door desperately as he works you to till you're tight-roping across the edge. Drew's just as turned on as you are, the rock-solid boner he's sporting beneath his dress pants a true testament to it.

His focus finally shifts to the pearl of your pussy, and you almost wish he'd never moved to it. X would never recover if they knew Drew Starkey ate pussy with his life.

Your legs are beginning to shake and it's a telltale sign that within seconds his name will be the only word falling from your lips. Once it finally hits you, the world crumbles and you feel like an angel falling from heaven. His mouth had pulled you down into the depths of hell, right into his arms and you couldn't be happier.

You make this clear when you pull him up to meet your gaze, he towers over you but you distract yourself from the effect it has on you by taking his thumb and wiping your slick off his swollen pink lips and sucking it off, wrapping your tongue around his thumb until he snaps.

Within the same second, he moves his hands to grab at the sides of your face, kissing you deeply. It's nothing but tongue and there's spit rolling over your bottom lip by the time you're both pulling back, chests heaving, lungs filled with each other's air, but it still wasn't enough.

He's holding onto you like he can never let you go. "You've got no idea how long I've needed this, needed you." He says and it makes your heart stutter in its rhythm. "Oh please," You dismiss him but his left hand stays on your waist while the other gently cups your cheek.

His eyes scan to search for yours in the dimly lit room, the only source of light stemming from the lone lamp beside the bed. "I like you, Y/n. It wasn't a secret. How could it be? I can't help myself around you." His words put a cheesy grin on your face.

"I like you, Drew. Always have. Big fan of your work, by the way." You giggle, referring to the almost degrading acts he'd just committed between your legs, but it evokes a breathy chuckle from him.

"Yeah?" He teases, stepping towards you and you take one step back, but he surprises you and scoops you up into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he leads you to the bed, tossing you onto your back and he crawls between your legs.

There's one last soft glance between the two of you. No more yearning, no more stealing glances from across the room. Finally, you're in his arms and you fit more perfectly than he could've imagined.

"What?" You say blankly, wondering what had him warped inside his own mind for so long. A smile stretches across his lips, "Nothin', just happy to be here." It's corny, but you laugh anyway. Moaning into the sweet kiss he dropped down to your lips, holding himself up with those big strong arms of his.

The rest is a blur of strong hands and intoxicating kisses that are used to distract you from the sweet burn that engulfed your body into flames as he rolled his hips into yours, letting his cock push into you for the first time.

The gasps you both let out are innocent, shocked and full of bliss from the moment he bottoms out. "Just l-let me know if you want me to slow down at any time, okay?" The sentiment comes out through clenched teeth as he refrains from any sudden movements.

The heat of your velvet walls convulsing around him is driving him to a point beyond insanity. "Oh god, start moving--please," you whine and Drew's body shudders.

"Fuck, don't beg. I'll give you anything you want, baby." He seals his promise with an accelerated pace, his cock driving in and out of you at a steady rhythm that had you arching into him, eyes screwed shut and unable to meet his gaze."

"Hey, hey, look at me." He deepens his thrusts and it makes the requirements of his words that much harder to meet. Struggling, your eyes flutter open but you shy away under his piercing gaze.

He looked too good for a man fucking your brains out. The way his jaw worked, locked in place from concentrations. His body was coated in a thin sheet of sweat that made him glisten under the rays of the lamp.

"God, you look perfect. So gorgeous." He flatters you and it heightens your high tenfold. Your hands reach out to grab onto the sheets of his bed but he offers you his hand instead. Giving it an assuring squeeze as you tumble into a vortex of euphoria. "I'm-" Interrupted by your own orgasm you short-circuit and the sight of you unravelling underneath him is enough to make him cum.

"Y/n-- shit!" He groans, hips stuttering rapidly until he blows his load and holds his place over you. The room goes quiet, filled with nothing but the consistent attempts for you to catch your breath. When you're ready, he pulls out slowly, tying off the condom and tossing it out.

"I'm gonna head to the shower," It falls from your lips suggestively but Drew waits for you to make your intentions clear. He licks his lips as he watches you strut your way to the bathroom, stopping once you're in the frame.

There's a charming grin you flash him from over your shoulder, "You coming or what?"

He was in fact coming. Twice, in the shower, you made sure the first time you repaid the favour with your mouth that was too talented for him to handle. His palm held your hair tight in a makeshift ponytail, holding onto the glass for his life before he fucked you up against it.

Sensically, there were no condoms available in the shower and you both recognized the risk you'd be taking but anything was worth the risk if it involved you. Besides, you both swore this would be the first and last time you fuck raw.

What a lie.

The minute you felt the unfiltered length of his cock slip into you, you knew it was a done deal. This was going to be a very big problem for both of you in the near future. He's your new addiction and you'll never quit.

The following morning the cast was expected to meet each other downstairs at 11 am for brunch, but here you are, tangled up under Drew's sheets at 1 in the afternoon after waking up only 20 minutes earlier. Your excessive sexcapades from the night before had worn you both out.

The blankets are covering your bodies as Drew slides between your folds with leisure, taking his time and fucking you open intimately. "You think they noticed we're missing?" Drew breathes out and your arms go to wrap around his neck as you answer. "Definitely. I'm not sure, but I think Madison was betting on this."

"Give her whatever she's owed. She wins, and god I'm so glad."

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav, @rafeycameronsgf, @moonlitunicorn, @thepopcultureaddict, @livinobx, @rafeycameronsgf.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Whatever My Wife Wants

Summary: On your honeymoon, Javi decides to break out a new accessory you've never seen him wear before. Little does he know, that seeing him wear a chain for the first time is about to drive you wild.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also its your honeymoon so who am I to say), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, literally the biggest, fattest, ugliest breeding kink (I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not), marriage kink (?) creampie, cum play, kind of exhibitionism (like if you SQUINT), talks of starting a family, Javi LOVES his wife, Javi in a CHAIN, Javi on his honeymoon deserves its own warning, did I mention that Javi LOVES his wife?!

A/N: shoutout to my sweet @honeyedmiller for this request after reblogging this MASTERPIECE from @enstatia. It's supposed to be a painting of Din, but it gave me such big Javi vibes, and I really haven't been the same since picturing the one and only Javier Peña in a chain (bc If i can't unsee it, you shouldn't be allowed to either) 😵‍💫 Also shoutout to Lucien Flores for singlehandedly ruining my life today with that new clip from the Uninvited (but also you can't tell me that this outfit is so Javi on the beach coded PHEW)

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

Javi had never been one for jewelry- well, that was until a few days ago when a new golden wedding band had made a home on his hand. Since you had slipped it on his finger, Javi couldn’t get enough of watching it glisten in the warm, tropical sunlight on your honeymoon, a reminder that filled his heart to the brim to know that he was yours forever. 

Javi’s new wedding ring was the only jewelry that he had ever pictured himself wearing, until you had mentioned to him in passing while shopping for new clothes for your honeymoon how good he’d look with a chain to go with any of his outfits he had planned for the trip- considering there was no way Javi was going to have no less than 4 buttons undone on his shirt at any given time while basking in the tropical warmth of your honeymoon paradise. 

Later on that week, he had dug around in his dresser to find a thin, golden chain necklace he had back from his time in college, that hadn’t seen the light of day in too many years to count. But, given your enthusiasm for the idea of him wearing something like it, Javi had decided to pack it with him in his suitcase to surprise when the time felt right. 

Well, after being a few drinks deep at the pool bar from earlier, Javi’s slightly tipsy confidence had him feeling like now was the perfect time to try out his new accessory to see what you thought. Digging through his suitcase, he pulled out out the chain to go with the rest of his outfit for your dinner on the beach, clipping the necklace around his neck as he looked himself over in the mirror, quickly fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt, undoing one more button than probably necessary to show off his new look. 

And while he could admit that he didn’t look half bad with it on, and figured you’d like the new surprise addition to his wardrobe, there’d be no way in hell he could have ever prepared himself for the viscerally awestruck reaction you’d have to the thin, gold chain dangling around his neck.  

“I can practically feel you burning a hole through my chest, Hermosa.” Javi chuckled, raising an eyebrow at you as he took another bite of his food, giving you a playful smirk at the way you had been ogling at him ever since you had noticed the thin gold chain resting across his tanned skin as you began your walk through the hotel to head to dinner. 

“Oh shut up, it’s not my fault you’re so hot. You’re making it very hard not to look, in my defense.” You sighed, trying to get yourself to focus on your food instead of staring at Javi for the rest of dinner, despite the fact that the only meal you had your eyes on was sitting across the table from you. “There’s already something about you being my husband that makes you somehow even hotter than you already were, and now with this?” You picked up your fork, gesturing to the chain dangling between the parted fabric of Javi’s shirt, “I think you may be trying to legitimately kill me.” 

“Figured you’d like it. Didn’t think you’d like it this much.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip before taking another bite of food, his cheeks growing flushed and warm as he looked at you admiring him, wondering how in the hell he had gotten so goddamn lucky. “Thanks, Mrs. Peña.” He laughed, taking another bite of his food, shooting you a quick wink. 

Mrs. Peña. 

God, if that alone wasn’t enough to send you over the edge already, your new last name, combined with the incredibly attractive man you had gotten it from that you now got to call your husband? On top of that stupidly hot chain he had decided to throw on with his outfit? There was definitely something else you were hungry for other than the half cleared plate below you. 

It was then that you couldn’t have been happier you had been seated at a table on the edge of the beachside boardwalk, tucked behind a few stray palm trees, secluded enough out of view that you had no problem reaching under the table to rest your hand on Javi’s knee, toying with the hem of his shorts before letting your fingers creep further and further up his thigh. 

“Are you almost done with your food?” You asked, your voice sweet and sultry as your hand brushing against Javi’s crotch immediately caught his attention, making his eyes go wide as he sat up straight, setting down his knife and fork to look down in his lap. “Because if you are, I can think of something else I want for dessert when we go back to our room. Something I want really bad. You wanna feel how badly I want it?” 

Javi swallowed hard as your fingers wrapped more firmly around his bulge, gently massaging his dick in your grasp, before grabbing his hand and guiding it to brush along the slit of your sundress and closer to your core, aching and dripping with arousal. Letting his fingers creep up the inside of your thighs and ghost over your folds, his eyes went even wider, jaw practically dropping open to feel that you were not only absolutely soaked, but also not wearing any underwear at all. Using every ounce of composure he had to keep from falling apart right then and there at the dinner table, letting out a deep sigh as he cursed under his breath. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck, baby… Yeah, I can be done right now.” He groaned, nodding at your proposition before wrapping his hand around the meat of your thigh as he took a long inhale, staring you down with darkening eyes and a devilish grin across the table. 

Never had you been more thankful that the resort you had picked to stay at was all inclusive, because if either of you had to wait a minute longer for a server to get your bill so you could get back up to your room, the probability of impending implosion would have been practically inevitable. 

Firmly intertwining your fingers with his as  you grabbed his hand, you were nearly dragging Javi through the hotel to the nearest bay of elevators, pleasantly shocked to find no one else waiting with you to travel up to their room, leaving the two of you alone to catch the next elevator back up to your floor. 

Without a word, the second the elevator doors had closed, the two of you were on top of each other, a messy dance of tongue and teeth crashing together, Javi’s hands palming the meat of your ass over your dress while yours roamed over his chest, tracing the freckles of his tanned skin up to the golden chain dangling in the open buttons of his shirt, stopping to wrap the necklace around your finger, tugging Javi closer to you. 

“Fuck, you look so good with this on, baby.” You moaned, your words hot against Javi’s skin as you nipped at his neck, chain still tangled in your grasp. “I can’t wait to fu-”

Barely aware of the fact that you had reached your floor, the ding of the elevator was enough to catch your attention and cut you off from completing the rest of your thought before the doors slid open, revealing a group of couples waiting for their ride down to the lobby. Frantically trying to play off the fact that if the elevator ride had gone any longer, you two definitely would have been seconds away from fucking in it, you gulped, giving Javi a nudge to his ribs to bring him back to reality, the two of you quickly trying to slide past the other guests without making a scene. 

As the door closed behind you, you and Javi couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that you couldn’t seem to take an elevator trip alone without almost being caught making out like a pair of horny teenagers (which, to be fair, a pair of horny teenagers probably would have had more self control than the two of you being newlyweds on your honeymoon). 

With your room only being a few doors down from the elevator, Javi began fumbling in the pocket of his shorts for his room key, working around the full hard on he already had under the fabric from how pent up he was. Quietly cursing under his breath until he found it, as soon as the card was swiping over the lock of the door, Javi was yanking you through into your room, instantly beginning to pull down the zipper to the back of your dress as you fumbled your way back to the bed. 

Your dress fell to the floor in a crumpled pile before Javi was tossing you onto the mattress, shocked to see that you also hadn’t even bothered to put on a bra, revealing your glowing skin and obnoxious tanlines from your time spent out in the sun. 

“Dirty fucking girl, not wearing anything underneath that dress for me. Fuck me, Hermosa. God, you’re so beautiful. So fucking perfect. My perfect wife.” Javi growled, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed to part your legs, draping them over his shoulders as he admired the wet mess between your thighs, your slick already coating your folds, glistening in the dim light of your hotel room. “My perfect wife and her perfect fucking pussy already so wet for me. 

Dragging his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal as he ghosted over your throbbing clit, you let out a soft whimper in protest, sitting up on your elbows to look down at Javi, peppering kisses along the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Javi, fuck- Baby, I wanted to go down on you. You look so good, I-I wanna taste you, Jav, p-please.” You moaned, your argument becoming less and less convincing as his kisses traveled to your center, nose brushing against your aching bundle of nerves before looking up at you with a lustful smirk, tightening his grip around your hips to hold you in place. 

Javi shook his head as he laughed quietly to himself, watching you squirm and buck your hips towards his face, so desperately worked up and aching that the mess between your legs was really beginning to contradict your need to get Javi off before yourself. 

“Cariño…” Javi tutted, almost mockingly, digging his fingertips deeper into the meat of your flesh, “You’re not going anywhere ‘till I get a taste. I can’t leave my poor wife all worked up like this, can I?” 

Before you had a chance to respond, the flat of Javi’s tongue was dragging through your heat in a long, broad stroke, firmly pressing against your clit, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as you threw your head back in pleasure, a soft whimper escaping from your parted lips. As the last of his lick slid through your folds, you shuttered at the feeling of the metal of his chain ghosting over your cunt as it dangled from his neck, only to cry out as you could feel the other piece of jewelry he was wearing on his left ring finger sink deep into your entrance. 

“Oh f-fuck-” You whimpered as another finger breached your tight hole, already sucking him in with your warm, wet walls while his digits curled, bumping against the sweet spot inside you that he knew made you crumble. 

“That’s it, baby girl.” He cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt before diving back between your legs like a man starved, his tongue dancing in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you, even more so now with the wedding band that had made its permanent home on his finger, taking every chance he could get to watch you cover the glistening gold ring in your arousal as yet another way to prove that you were his. 

Javi could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his fingers as your bottom half squirmed against the sheets of the bed, the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten, tingling building at the base of your spine. Latching his lips around your clit, he began to suck at your sensitive nub, his hand thrusting faster and deeper into your cunt, feeling you slowly coming undone under his touch. 

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Javi, I’m so close baby, oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaaahhhhhh-” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high, feeling the smirk of Javi’s smile pressed against your cunt as you soaked his face, his free hand wrapped around your hip, holding you in place for him. 

“Fuck, I swear, I’ll never fucking get over that.” Javi mewled, pulling back enough to sit on his heels, admiring the wet and puffy mess your pussy had become, gently pulling his fingers out of your heat, looking down at the way your arousal coated his fingers, covering his wedding band. “Fucking soaked me, Hermosa. You like feeling my ring when I touch you like that, baby? Knowing I’m all yours forever?” 

With your chest heaving in heavy breaths, you nodded frantically, blissed out look plastered across your face as you stared up at Javi, lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he brought his soaked fingers to your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip as, opening your mouth for you to suck him clean, the warm and tangy taste of you still fresh on his skin. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. Mi esposa sabes muy dulce.” (My wife tastes so sweet) Javi cooed, gently tugging his fingers out of your mouth, standing up to lean over the bed, caging your body under his as his lips crashed against yours in a needy mess of longing and desperation. 

You could feel how painfully hard he was through the fabric of his shorts, his bulge straining against the seams of his zipper as he rubbed against your thigh, laying on top of you with one arm propped up beside your head, the other gently cupping your face, thumb rubbing back and forth along your cheek as he kissed you with the tender intensity that set your insides ablaze with desire, longing, no, needing to feel him buried deep inside you as you screamed his name. 

It really had been your intention to suck Javi off the moment you had gotten back to your room, to drop to your knees and worship the beautifully handsome man you now got to call your husband and turn him into the same type of moaning, whimpering mess that he had just made you, but with the ferocity of each kiss and the instinctual jerk of Javi’s hips, there was nothing you wanted more than to be filled by the sweet sting of his cock pounding into you, over and over.  

“J-Javi, fuck- I need to feel you baby, please. Fuck, I wanna feel you so deep inside me.” You whispered, your teeth tugging at Javi’s earlobe as he peppered your jaw and neck with kisses, feeling the audible groan in his chest at your request, followed by a deep sigh as he tried to compose himself from the mess he was already becoming. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want, sweet girl? Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.” He rasped, a devilish grin spread between his cheeks as he sat back to pull his shirt over his head, followed by his shorts and boxers, leaving him in nothing but the gold chain still dangling around his neck as he reached down to stroke his cock, red and dripping with precum before leaning back down to line up with your entrance. 

You could feel your breath hitch as his tip brushed through your folds, rubbing gently against your clit as he collected your arousal to coat his length, looking down to watch as his length sunk deep into your cunt, the both of you letting out ragged moans at the sensation. 

Javi paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch as he filled you, his tip kissing your cervix while his hips met yours. The fullness made your brain go blank, completely at a loss for words as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, pulling himself out enough to sink his whole length back into your cunt, each thrust making you whimper and moan, desperate for more. 

“F-fuck, give me more, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your hand wrapping around his bicep, fingertips digging into his flexing muscles. 

“Yeah? You want more, Hermosa?” Javi mewled, smirking to himself at the blissed out mess you were already becoming as the pace of his hips rutting into you began to quicken. 

As each thrust became faster, the gold chain draped around his neck began to bounce against his chest, his body close enough to yours to feel the cool metal brush against your face with each snap of his hips into yours, the sight of his necklace dangling over you as you stared up at the furrowed and focused look painting his face. The image alone of him wearing that chain was enough to make you feel like you were going to cum on the spot, but as you lay caged beneath the weight of his broad body, feeling nothing but his warm skin and chain rub against you, you were nearly convinced it was going to be over for you right then and there. 

Without even thinking, you lifted your head up off the bed just enough to grab the chain between your teeth, tugging him closer to you, the sudden yank making his eyes go wide in surprise as the two of you came nose to nose, foreheads brushing against each other before his lips were on yours again, entangling you in an all consuming kiss without faltering in his pace. 

“Fuck, you look so good.” You moaned, your lips parting just enough from his to whisper your praises into his ear. “You look so hot with this fucking chain, Jesus Christ.” 

Your comment had a low, breathy laugh escaping from his chest, shaking his head to himself almost in disbelief at how enthralled you were with him. 

“Me? Baby girl, you have no idea.” He cooed, slowing his thrusts to sit back on his haunches, readjusting you to bring your knees pressed to your chest, leaning back down, running his hands along your body, up your arms until he had them above your head, pinned down to the bed in his grasp. “You know how many guys I’ve seen staring at you since we’ve been here? How many dirty fucking looks I’ve had to give them? Maybe this ring on your finger isn’t enough, mi amor.” 

“W-what do you, fuck- what do mean?” You whimpered, the new position opening you up in a way that had you feeling every inch of Javi as he sank his cock even deeper into your cunt, splitting you open in the most delicious way possible, your brain barely working enough to let your words escape from your mouth. 

“I mean,” Javi groaned, tightening his grip to hold you in place, his eyes growing darker with desire with another deep, long thrust into your heat, “That maybe, I need to fuck a baby into, Osita. Fuck a baby into my beautiful fucking wife, and let everyone see that you’re mine with our kid growing inside you.” 

Javi’s words sent a shiver down your spine, the thought alone making you whimper- You and Javi both had undeniable cases of baby fever, and now that you were finally married and had agreed that your birth control wasn’t going to be a part of your packing list, the prospect that in 9 months from now, you could have a third member to your family? That was enough to have you close to finishing right then and there. 

 A gulp traveling down your throat before a long exhale, trying to find the words to respond to his proposition, your voice trembling in an anxious excitement. 

“F-fuck- Oh my god, yes. Fuck a baby into me, Javi. Let me, oh shit- let me make you a daddy.” 

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth, trying his best to maintain his own composure, taking a long exhale before his gaze met yours again, a fierce kind of determination and promise pooling in the deep chocolate brown of his eyes, leaning his body on top of yours, pushing your knees closer to your chest, opening you up to an even deeper angle as his mouth crashed into yours, beginning to pick up his pace once again as his hips snapped into yours. “That’s what  you want, Hermosa? Fuck, I’ll give it to you, baby. Oh shit- Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets, remember? You want a baby? Fuck- I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you I’ll fuck a baby into you right now.” 

You could feel the all too familiar tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine once again, Javi’s cock pounding perfectly into your g-spot over and over again, the hairs at the base of his length grinding against your throbbing clit, sending you to the brink of collapse with each thrust in and out of your cunt. 

“Yes, oh my god- yes, I w-want it so bad. P-please, baby, fuck.” You whined, starting to stumble over your words as you could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his cock, the coil in your core tightening to the point of nearly snapping. 

“Fuck- say it again. Tell me- mierda- tell me how badly you want it.” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming slopier and more desperate as he could feel himself on the verge of chasing his own high, knowing all too well you were almost hitting yours.  

“I want you to fill me up, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- I want it so bad. I want you to knock me up and give me a baby, please, baby, oh my god- please.” You were all but panting at this point, your legs starting to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, the overwhelming sensation of his fullness, promise of pregnancy, and that damn chain dangling in your face was enough to finally send you over the edge. “Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I’m so close baby, I’m gonna, oh shit- I’m gonna cu-ahhhhhhh.” 

Those were the last words you were able to muster before you were screaming out Javi’s name as you came, euphoria and ecstasy radiating through every inch of your body, your orgasm crashing through you with so much intensity you could have sworn you were seeing stars. 

Watching you fall apart beneath him, soaking his cock in your arousal as you came had Javi only moments behind you, the rhythm of his hips beginning to stutter, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each others combined with your wanton moans and whimpers and curses under your breath making him begin to babble incoherently. 

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. Fucking soak my cock, baby. Cum all over me before I, fuck me- fuck myself so deep in you it’ll fucking take. Holy fuck- Fuck, I’m gonna cum too. Gonna fucking fill you up. Give you all of me. Fuck, I’ll give you everyting, baby, mierda- everything you’ll ever wa-ahhhhhh” 

With one last final thrust, Javi was spilling deep inside you, warm ropes of his spend coating your walls, milking himself of every single last drop before collapsing on top of you, the warmth and weight and of his body sinking on top of your chest as the two you sighed in sync, trying to catch your breath with long, labored huffs. 

As Javi felt himself begin to soften, a groan rumbled low in his chest while he pulled out, feeling the mix of your spend dripping out your hole, coating the inside of your thighs in glistening juices. You let out an involuntary whimper at the loss of fullness inside you, your head falling back on the mattress in blissed out satisfaction, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself back to reality after floating away in post-colotial bliss. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, lifting your head back up to see Javi sitting back on his heels, admiring the mess of the two of you pooling between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty, Hermosa.” He mewled, peppering kisses down the soft skin of your thighs, making his way back towards your core. Before you could even realize what was happening, Javi’s head was back between your legs, one broad stroke of his tongue collecting the tangy, salty mixture leaking out of your cunt and lapping it back into your entrance quickly replacing his mouth with his fingers to push the mixture of your spend even further into you. 

Looking up at you, slick covering his mustache and smug grin spread between his cheeks, Javi curled his fingers just enough to make you yelp as he pressed against your g-spot, considering how worked up and overstimulated you already were. 

“Gotta make sure I keep you full of me, baby. Can’t let anything go to waste.” Javi smirked, gently pulling out his fingers, resting his hands on your thighs, drawing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs. 

You tried to sit back up, propping yourself on your elbows before Javi’s body was caging over you once again, slowly lowering himself down until your back was flat against the bed, cradling your jaw as guided you down with soft, slow kisses, feeling his chain brush against your chin he pulled away from your lips. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Momma. My wife wants a baby? Then I’m doing everything I can to give her one. Whatever she wants.” Javi smirked, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead as his hand caressed your face, brushing your skin just gently enough to tickle you, a little giggle escaping from your lips as your eyes met his sweet puppy dog ones. 

“You’re ridiculous, you menace.” You laughed, playfully nudging Javi as he rolled over next to you on the side of the bed, wrapping his arm around you, tugging you to lay against his bare chest, your hand draping over his stomach before crawling up his chest, wrapping his gold chain around your fingers. “Hmmmm whatever your wife wants, huh?” You smirked, looking up at him with a mischievous grin. 

“Whatever she wants, Hermosa.”

“Your wife wants you to never take this damn thing off again.” 

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

[merakidoll]

this is apart of my pen pal!gojo series! warnings : nickname gogo used, riding, lactation, reader is pregnant, chubby, and a bimbo!

over the year that gojo was released from prison, your penpal quickly became your boyfriend, to now fiancé/ baby daddy! gojo was very quick with impregnating you loving how this sealed your fate to him, how now you had absolutely no excuse to be his. “go! let’s get ice cream!” you exclaimed pointing towards the small stand that had a young man standing there. he walked stiffly behind you, his much larger hand holding yours as he stood back holding your tote, and watching as you told the man exactly what you wanted.

gojo had found that with his obsession came lots of observing. he watched the man eye your large breast as he scoop the strawberry delight into the cone, his hand subconsciously pushing towards you more and wrapping around your belly. “so, what brings you here” gojo couldn’t hide the scoff that came from him, in his mind he was telling the man off, to which he knew you hated when he was rude to people.

you looked back at the large man with a pout, a soft ‘calm down i’m yours’, then turned back with a soft smile. “i wanted to see all the tables people had, we love small festivals!” you took your ice cream and handed him the bill expecting him to take it, but gojo knew he wasn’t - he knew he was gonna touch your hand, - caress your brown skin and tell you “it’s on the house gorgeous”.

now, gojo had many plans come that night. him pulling you away from the festival and to the car quickly driving home - to which he would be fuming. and the only thing that could ever calm him was you. “gogo, you’re all that m-matters to me” your pussy wrapped deliciously around him, your small bounces while he sucked on your leaking breast, crystal blue eyes shut and savoring all of your bodily flavor. he unlatched his salivating mouth and looked up at you with the sweetest eyes.

“only mine?” he bucked into your cunt, spreading your cheeks and bringing his mouth back to your brown nipple that to his eyes were screaming for attention. “o-only yours gojo, my sweet b-boyymm” at the sound of your words gojo’s angry vanished. the milk from your breast was already sizzling the fire within; but your words made him melt into a puddle. you bounceed on him, letting him hear all of your pretty sounds and the feeling of you pussy tighten around him as you came. “who’s pussy doll?” he slapped your ass, watching your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head. stimulation of him still moving as you orgasmed making you go wild.

“y-yours! y-yours gojo!” he smiled sisterly, bucking into you more, laying your head on his broad shoulder as he rubbed your back filling your pussy with his thick seamen. “mmh, and this dick is all yours baby.” he kissed your cheek becoming still and enjoying the closeness of cockwarming. he ignored the way your pussy dripped down onto him, the mix of you both combine. he enjoyed the soft snores you gave and deep sighs into the silence. all while his mind ran wild with thoughts. thoughts of when he put you into your sheared bed, after a nice bath how he’d be making a quick outing. to the man who deared try to flirt with you; especially in front of him.

[notjustjavierpena]

Tink

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is so many days late but I promise that it is worth it. I hope you enjoy a broken heart.

Summary: You leave a Halloween party to go see Joel but it turns into a horror show when conversation between you takes a poor turn.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, secret relationship, dad’s best friend, possessiveness, daddy kink, lots of pet names, alcohol consumption, dirty and dark Tinkerbell roleplay, dirty talk, ass smacks!!!, clit stim, fingering, squirting, doggy style, overstim, tears, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, angst, fighting, no happy ending.

Word count: 9.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60461590

Tink

You’re readjusting the straps on your pale gold stilettos as Joel slips into your childhood bedroom. He has gone unnoticed by the rest of the people in the house like he always does, having mastered the art of sneaking around since the beginning of your little fling. This is even as he has gotten far bolder over the summer, especially over the last month when you told him you loved him. It fills him with a carefreeness that he hasn’t felt in years, a feeling unlocked from his teenage days that he was so sure his body had forgotten by now. However, it doesn’t mean that he is careful not to disturb the noise downstairs as he clicks the door shut. 

You’re standing in front of the full-body mirror just opposite the door, bent over as you undo your shoe strap to tighten it slightly. Joel feels like a damn dog as he lets his eyes skim up your beautiful legs, letting his gaze wander over the body he has come to know so well before it eventually settles on your strutting ass. 

You are wearing a Tinkerbell costume, its green satin fabric hugging your curves like it has been specially tailored to your body. You have chosen a version of the fae that he doesn’t quite remember from the movie he used to watch with Sarah; the neckline dips way low, the straps are tucked away into the top to expose your chest and shoulders, and the hemline of the skirt barely reaches your mid-thigh which he is sure that a twirl will reveal your underwear to the world, something that makes his jaw tighten when you should be for his eyes only. And then there are the wings; pale, translucent and with tiny flecks of gold in them. You may be demanding attention from people other than him but despite being sexy and driving him wild, you mostly look cute. It makes him smile affectionately as he takes a moment to gather himself instead of being completely overtaken by the need to possess. 

You are lost in your own world, clearly not expecting anyone to come in, so it takes you by surprise when he pads across the room to lay his hands on your hips without announcing his presence. He swallows hard as he sees the two of you in the mirror, imitating something far more explicit than what he is actually doing. 

His touch startles you, eliciting a small gasp from you as you feel him caress on top of the fabric of your dress. He curls his fingers into it, fighting the urge to lift it and see what kind of panties you’re wearing underneath. 

“You frightened me,” you say but there’s no accusation in your tone. Instead, he can hear that you’re happy to see him and his hands stay on your body, only going up to your waist, as you straighten, “Where does Dad think you are this time?”

“Restroom,” he answers simply and lets his palms move to lay on your tummy. He leans his head over your shoulder, looking at you in the mirror with a soft smile. When he speaks, it is with paternity lacing his voice, “Ya goin’ out like that?”

“He might think you have bladder issues soon, old man. You can’t just barge in each time you want some sugar,” you tease him, eyes sparkling in competition with the glitter on your blush-covered cheeks. Joel leans in to kiss your neck. He nibbles along your pulse point, inhaling deeply to breathe you in as he reaches where you’ve applied your sweet perfume.

“You smell so good, little fae,” he says instead of acknowledging your jab at his age, the tip of his nose skimming along the delicate column of your throat. Shamelessly, he grabs the hem of your dress and lifts it just enough to start something between the two of you that he cannot finish, “What’ve you got under here?” 

“Joel,” you say with fake outrage and tut disapprovingly. The both of you know that he’ll fuck you at some point tonight. Still, you make a statement out of grabbing his much bigger hands and removing them from your dress. You stretch his arms out in front of you both to keep him out of reach but he is so much stronger than you, manhandling you easily until he catches you in an embrace from behind. Being caged against his broad chest makes you giggle so goddamn heavenly, his body responding with interest in getting you on your back.

“You didn’t answer my question, Princess,” he whispers into your ear, letting his breath tickle your skin until you shiver. 

“About?” You light up the room when you smile innocently at him in the mirror and God, if it doesn’t make his heart nearly leap out of his chest. Your eyes are wide, your grin mischievous. 

“If you’re goin’ out like that,” he tightens his arms around you, focusing on the softness of your palms in his rough ones. He isn’t letting you go before you give him an answer.

“I am,” you lean back into his chest, turning your head away from the mirror to glance up at him through your lashes. You are in the mood to dare tease even further, “Don’t you like it?”

“You know I do. Too much actually,” he murmurs back at you as he takes in your costume once more in the mirror. He notices that you bite your lip as he ogles you, tilting back and forth on your feet while you let him eat you with his eyes. When he finds that you aren’t looking at yourself but rather still batting your eyes up at him, he reaches up to cup your jaw. He turns your face to the mirror, “I’d like it much more behind these walls.”

“I’m not staying here,” you say. Joel lets out an annoyed sigh and shakes his head as if to argue but his head isn’t in it. He feels somewhat secure when your voice sounds a little out of breath, “Besides, you know I’ll always come back home to you. No one makes me feel like you do.”

“You better, sweetheart,” he can almost imagine you shrinking down and flying around in his close proximity just to tease him. He finally moves you around in his arms until you are face-to-face with him and then, still holding you by your chin, he leans in to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s slower and deeper than usual. He brushes your soft tongue with his own, kissing you like he is claiming you and hopefully reminding you of what awaits back home. 

When he pulls back, you’ve gone dumb. There’s a vacancy in your eyes, a dazed look that tells you just how ready you are to melt into him and forget about everything else. Joel would love to keep you home but he’ll settle for the satisfaction he feels from looking at you blink rapidly, “Still with us, little fae?”

“Barely,” you admit with an embarrassed smile. 

“Go have fun,” he encourages with a little smirk and, albeit reluctantly, lets you go but not before giving your ass a playful smack and causing you to yelp quietly, “Before I change my mind.”

“Bye, Daddy,” you whisper to taunt him as you leave out the door, and Joel has to stay behind for several minutes to get his aching cock to flag down. It doesn’t take long since he is an expert now, has learned to join the party downstairs without any trace of what he has been doing to his best friend’s daughter. 

—

The party has been going on for a few hours now, with costumes ranging from elaborate to barely there. The crowd of people crammed into the tiny house is buzzing with exciting fun, resulting in happy bursts of laughter bouncing off the walls along with the music, both of which get louder as drinks are consumed. Yet no matter how many times your friends cause you to throw your head back to laugh along and no matter the three drinks you already have in your system, your mind plays tricks on you and continuously goes back to Joel. The way he had kissed you goodbye earlier still feels imprinted on your lips, haunting you like a ghost and causing your skin to buzz, your thighs to press together. Nothing seems to get you out of this trance, not even the lingering eyes caused by the dangerous hemline of your Tinkerbell costume. The attention feels good, sure, but it is nothing compared to the way Joel makes you feel when he looks at you. 

You take a sip from your fourth drink. You’re supposed to be out having fun, dancing and drinking, but you can think of nothing else than leaving this place and going to his, only so you can slip back into that familiar embrace where you belong, only so you can feel his calloused hands grab your hips as he drags you down onto his—

“Who is he?” You look up to find your best friend staring at you with a knowing smirk. Hannah awaits an answer, quite a few more drinks in than you. She is dressed as a Poison Ivy, complete with green painted skin (which has been smudged off on every surface she’s touched) and her red hair decorated with plastic leaves she has cut off from a fake plant. 

“What are you talking about?” You ask innocently but you betray yourself by not being able to maintain eye contact with her. Your cheeks are warm but if she asks, you’ll say it is due to the alcohol. 

“You’re staring off again,” she notes and her eyes grow more devious. She points the straw from her drink at you and tiny splashes of homemade daiquiri fly in your direction, “I didn’t fly home and go to this party with you to not hear about who you are having sex with.” 

“Who says I am having sex?” You ask with comical indifference which accidentally reveals you in your lie. You rub off a spot of red liquid from your arm, “I’m not.”

“Please,” she dismisses your statement by waving a hand and moving closer to you on the couch. She talks loudly over the music, “You’re either getting continuously laid by some great secret boyfriend or I need to take notice of your skincare routine since you’re practically glowing.”

“Hey, keep it down. I don’t need anyone but you to know,” you shush her with a finger pressed to your lips. There’s no way you’re telling her that your secret boyfriend is Joel Miller… but right now, with alcohol in your bloodstream, it is tempting to let someone else in on the secret that’s been eating at you since June. Perhaps even to brag a little bit.

“You’re acting like seeing a guy is some forbidden romance,” Hannah sighs dramatically but when you smile and shrug, she narrows her eyes just a second before they go wide, “Wait, it is?”

“It’s a secret… because he’s a lot older,” you lean in to make the conversation more private, taking Hannah’s drink out of her hand in case the excitement that looms underneath her surface will make her spill the red liquid onto you. 

Her eyes are nearly bulging out of her skull, “Like how much older are we talking? Silver fox?”

“Old enough to remember dial-up internet and hate my music?” You test the waters and watch her process your words, not sure if her reaction is going to be one of shock or enthusiasm. However, with the amount of questionable things Hannah has gotten herself into over the years, you are more certain that it’ll be the latter. One can never know though. After all, right now you are keeping out the earth-shaking detail that the guy you give your nights to is your father’s very best friend.

A satisfied smile spreads on her face, slowly because she’s intoxicated, “So you’re telling me that you - the girl with a history of pissant boyfriends - have a mature, well-seasoned man in your grasp?” 

You giggle, happiness bubbling up at Hannah’s silly wording but your heartbeat thrums underneath your ribs because how Joel makes you feel is nowhere near previous flirtations; it’s intense, it’s all-consuming, and has you tossing and turning whenever. You can feel your cheeks ache from smiling. With a groan, you lean forward to bump your forehead against her shoulder. 

You earn an embrace in return, squeezed by the arm around your shoulder, “Or maybe he has you in his grasp?”

“I think it’s serious, Hannah, I love him,” you whisper in the crook of her neck just loud enough for her to hear you over the noise around you. There’s a gentle vulnerability in being nearly four drinks in and confessing your love - even if it’s words tumbling out of your mouth - for a boy to your person, the one who came through and gave you her approval without hesitation despite the scandal. 

Hannah pulls back a little, excitement on her face instead of shock. She has always had a tendency to live vicariously through you whenever something exciting happens, and it comes across when she urges you away, “Then what are you doing sitting here with me?” 

“Uhh, spending time with my best friend?” You straighten and raise a brow, stifling a grin.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “We’ve known each other since middle school. I’m sure I can survive a night without you if it means you getting with your mystery man. He’s apparently the love of your life judging by the amount of smiling you’ve done since we started talking about him. Who is it anyway?”

From her tone, you can hear she tries to sound nonchalant about the question at the end. However, the relief of talking to her about your affair with someone off-limits makes you a little too bold, too nonchalant yourself.

“I am seriously putting my life on the line here, so you have to promise not to tell anyone,” you stress, leaning in as far as you can while still looking at her. Your heart races in your chest, your eyes locked onto her widened ones. 

“Of course, of course! Cross my heart and all that,” Hannah sits up a little, almost imitating the way a cat’s ears perk up, “Spill!”

“Joel Miller,” you confess to your sins but much to your surprise, you don’t burst into flames and there is no sound of a record scratch before everyone looks at you in horror. In fact, it feels surprisingly easy and light to tell her. 

Hannah processes the name for a moment before her eyes widen just the tiniest bit more, “Wait what?! Joel Miller as in your dad’s buddy?!”

“Keep it down,” you hiss and shush, “I think someone upstairs didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry,” she is flustered, lowering her voice theatrically, “But this is huge. I mean… Does your dad know?”

You furrow your brow, “Of course, he doesn’t. He’d murder Joel if he found out. Lifetime imprisonment because of manslaughter style.”

Hannah nods in understanding. However, she still seems deep in thought, “But how does that even happen? You’re like… seriously off-limits, aren’t you? That’s bro-code even for boomers.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you recall, your voice taking on a dreamy note, “Just kinda happened. I was having a really difficult time at college and he just— he told me all the right things, then one thing led to another… He makes me feel things that I didn’t even know I needed. I know it’s wrong but—“

“Wrong? You’re a grown woman,” Hannah tuts, “Go see him. What’s the worst thing that could happen? That you probably end up having mind-blowing sex with an experienced man?” 

“You’re really sure it’s okay?” You ask but you are already getting out of your seat next to her. You start absentmindedly fixing your clothes to make sure you look like something out of Joel’s deepest fantasy, straightening out a squashed fairy wing and curling your hair around a finger to make it bounce into place. 

“Jesus, look at you,” she laughs at the way you fuss, “It would be classified as torture if I didn’t let you go, so go! See your silver fox, but just text me when you’re there.”

“I will, thank you, Hannah,” you beam. 

You leave her with giddiness and make excuses to your other friends about a ‘family thing’ when they appear bummed out that you are heading home. The air outside in Texas is still hot in October but you can’t feel warm without Joel’s arms around you. 

You're so sure that your heart says his name as it beats in your chest when you leave for him. 

Joel, Joel, Joel.

—

You stand by his front door not half an hour later, having checked that your parents’ car is not parked in his driveway. The house is quiet except for the soft glow of the floor lamp in his living room and the TV’s light flickering through the curtains. You take it as evidence that he is still awake. 

Just before you knock, you shoot Hannah a text, telling her that you’re here with five exclamation points and she types a barely coherent message back at you. She also wishes you good luck which you know you won’t need because the man opening his front door is so whipped for you. 

Joel says your name in surprise, quickly checking to see if anyone is watching as you twirl on his doorstep in your little green dress. The booze in your blood is making you more courageous than normal even if you aren’t anywhere near plastered. You step inside his house without permission but he doesn’t seem bothered as you saunter into his living room, your heels clicking as you step over the doorstep. He has turned off the TV, almost as if he knew that it was you behind his front door and therefore there would be no more time for lounging. 

“How much has Tink had to drink tonight?” He asks when closing the door. You don’t give him much time to do anything else as you enter his personal space again, caging him hungrily against the door to kiss him with all the heat in your body. 

“Not nearly enough for you to stop touching her, Peter,” you let him know as you take a quick breath, too excited for what he can give you if he allows himself remember to inhale through your nose. You rush back into making out with him but he holds you just out of reach, fingers digging into your shoulders. 

“Peter? I don’t think so, Tink,” he grumbles, large hands sliding down the length of your arms until he can rest them on your hips. His touch makes your cunt clench, desire stirring even further inside of you as you make a mess in your panties. 

“But…” You press your thighs together without any shame. 

Joel holds your waist firmly but then goes further down to cup the tops of your thighs underneath the satin skirt. His hands squeeze obscenely, denting your jiggling skin while his eyes have gone dark to indicate his lust. His fingers are calloused and warm as they graze upon where your panties hug your ass, “Peter ain’t never had the guts to get his hands on Tinkerbell like this. Lemme show ya what a man does to his own, personal little fae.”

He then drags your body against himself to let you feel every inch of him, the outline of his already hardening cock underneath his usual jeans. There’s no way he fucked you silly just a few days ago because your pussy reacts like it’s been craving him for days. 

“This is what good fairies get stuffed with. If they can handle the stretch,” he chuckles darkly. You moan longingly, brows furrowing to make you look slightly dumb as you suddenly become aware of how empty you feel, how much you need him to fill you out and stretch you to the brim. You had marched over here to be alluring to the point of control over him but he touches you and your mind blanks. He won’t fuck you here, told you last time that he prefers his bed so he can take his time. 

“Bedroom. Now, please,” you whine pathetically and reluctantly take a step back. He nods, allowing you to lead him upstairs. You take his hand before it falls to his side from your hip, dragging him through the house and earning a smack to your ass with the hand you aren’t holding. You yelp a little, gush a little more.

By the time you reach his bed, your head is spinning with how horny you are and your belly is swirling with heat. You drop down onto it, bouncing slightly on the mattress and he stands between your legs with delicious authority. 

“Lay back and let Daddy take care of his baby,” he commands but his voice is somehow both soft, harsh, and dirty. He watches you lower yourself onto your back, the glittering wings of your costume spread out beneath you and fluttering slightly as you wiggle your hips when tugging up your dress. 

Joel smiles with pride. He lays a warm hand on your knee, slowly gliding it up until his palm rests against your core, and touches you carefully through the fabric. 

“You gotta tell me somethin’,” he whispers with his eyes focused on yours, not needing to see what he is doing because he knows your body so well. He feels how damp your underwear has become, the sensation pulling a low moan from the back of his throat. You nod, words embarrassingly failing you when you are so overcome by your body’s need to have him where you need him the most. However, he is expertly avoiding your clit for now, clearly wanting to get his sentence out before your attention is lost. 

“A little birdie told me that when a man keeps his fae excited and happy, she produces a little extra magic down there, sparklin’ so prettily for him,” he tightens his grip between your legs when your hips start moving on their own accord. He holds you down, rubbing you closer to properly now but it’s still not enough to build anything to a crescendo. However, there’s an urgency to the way he touches you, a mix of frustration and relief now that you’re back here with him, 

“Only for those who know how to bring it out of her,” you finally manage a coherent sentence, a teasing one even, but your breath stutters through it. Your clit pulses in time with your heartbeat by now and as if he has heard your prayers, his thumb finally presses down on the hard little nub before going in mind-altering circles. 

“Then I just gotta make sure I show ya that I am the only one who can make enough magic spill from you to light up this whole damn house,” he growls, using his fingers expertly until you are on the brink of coming, “And every bit of that magic, honey? It’s mine. I ain’t stoppin’ until you’re glowing, little fae.”

You come so hard that your mind blocks out all other senses for a split second, your pussy going off into spasms that have you arching your back like you might actually float off the bed. You whimper at the oversensitivity that he teases out of you with featherlight touches. 

He pushes your pelvis down when it lifts itself up and snaps without anger in his voice. Instead, his voice is laced with lust, an octave deeper and threatening, “No moving away or I’ll pluck your pretty little wings off.”

The threat makes you moan, eyes widening as you stare at his face like a trapped animal. You can see how much Joel’s eyes darken at your reaction, unable to understand how he hasn’t ripped your panties yet to screw your brains out. 

“Wouldn’t want that, would ya? Unable to fly away?” He smirks deviously and draws back to undo your golden stilettos, his hand that isn’t working the lock holding your calf firmly. He presses kisses to your ankle too and is so delicate with your shoes even as he drops them onto the floor. 

“No,” you whimper and shake your head. You can’t bear telling him the truth which is that you want nothing more than being a wingless little fae, completely at his mercy. You imagine being tied to the bed with nothing to keep him from using you how he pleases and your chest feels alight. 

Teasingly, you slide your foot up along his arm until you can rest it comfortably on his shoulder. He allows it and turns his head to kiss just below your ankle in response.

“Then be a good girl and stay right where Daddy put you,” he rasps, letting his strong hands glide up the length of your legs. He squeezes your thighs gently as he passes over them, a part of your body that he would categorize as his favorite if you asked him to choose. When he inches his fingertips up under your skirt, the anticipation in the air nearly makes your body want to crawl away because what you will get from him will be too much. You shiver when he starts tugging your panties down, the white lace impossibly damp right at where your pussy has sat. 

When he drags them all the way off, lifting the leg on his shoulder briefly, his eyes settle right between your thighs. You clench involuntarily at being watched, slick dripping onto his bed sheets as you pulse for his gaze. He lets out a low groan, his hands gripping your hips as he stares without shame, taking in every inch of you as you are laid bare for him. The sight of the heat he’ll slide into has his jaw tightening, his breathing growing irregular. When he is satisfied with his inspection, his eyes lift and he gives you a look that could melt you right into the bed. 

“Look at this little pussy. It’s glistenin’ f’me, the magic’s pouring from it,” he says while he slides his fingers through your folds with slow and tantalizing strokes, the leftovers of your last orgasm still lingering as he taps your clit and causes you to squeak. 

“Yeah? Does it look pretty for you?” You ask deliriously and catch your bottom lip between your teeth to whine, lifting your hips up despite the rules and basically presenting your cunt like a gift. 

“So goddamn pretty, little fae. Do you want me to touch it properly this time? Inside to make those wings flutter?“ Joel’s threat is apparently less serious now that he’s got a glimpse between your legs. He turns his wrist so he can hook his fingers upward, rubbing your cunt teasingly around where you want him to sink into. He enters you to the first knuckle, applying the slightest pressure inside of you, only to draw back and make you lose your mind. 

“You’re teasing me,” you state the obvious, breathless and squirming underneath his ministrations. You push your hips to meet his hand, “Please, Daddy, I need it so badly. Don’t you wanna slip inside and feel how tight I am?”

“Then spread those legs for me,” he orders you in a gruff voice, clearly affected by your words. He reaches with his free hand to lift your leg off his shoulder and plants your foot firmly on the bed. You mirror it with your other leg until you can let both of them fall out to the sides. 

“You want me to get a towel, baby? We haven’t done that in a while,” he smirks at you knowingly, a certain glint in his eye as he asks. You know exactly what he is referring to and he chuckles when you answer by nodding eagerly with wide eyes, looking like a kid in a candy store being offered their favorite sweet. 

“That’s my girl, so eager to feel good,” he praises with a warm smile and rises from his position. He peels off his t-shirt, throwing it in your face - a fairly new habit of his - so you can drown in his smell before exiting the room to head for the bathroom, stepping out of his jeans on the way there. You curl your fingers into the fabric, bringing it to your nose to inhale deeply. Joel’s shirt smells of cotton and faded aftershave, mixed with something unmistakably him; a hint of sweat from being in the Texas sun, his wood-scented deodorant that still lingers. It’s enough to make you even wetter.

He comes back a moment later, towel in hand. He watches you clutching his shirt, having smeared the golden glitter on your face onto it, your pretty eyes nearly rolling back and your hips wiggling to no avail. 

“Ain’t you worked up, sweetheart? I’ve barely gotten started with you. Are all faes so greedy between their legs?” He taunts as he slides the towel beneath your hips, flattening it out neatly while you hold your breath in his proximity. He yanks the shirt out of your grip and stares down at you. Your costume is so messy by now, the green dress sitting around your hips to obscenely make you look like a thing used for shoving one’s dick in, and the translucent wings are slightly crumpled by your impatient wiggling around, your cunt’s search for pleasure. 

“Please, Daddy, need you to make me come,” you whimper and earn a look of pity. Joel moves to kneel on the floor by the bed, leaning over the edge of the bed until his upper body is between your thighs. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his ring- and middle finger into you, rewarding your desperation by curling his digits upward just in the right way.

“Oh,” you let out a slow, breathy moan when he finds the right spot inside you in just a few seconds, the one that has a direct line to your clit. Joel smiles at his immediate success, watching you with the pride of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing in his quest to undo you. 

“Right there, huh? God, you’re so sensitive, baby,” he murmurs lowly, his tone affectionate and aroused. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his index finger and pinky brush your ass and then makes a come-hither motion inside of you. You can feel a lump form in your throat, the flesh of your ass and thighs jiggling from the effort he puts into fucking you with his thick digits.

“You’re so good at that, mmm… Daddy,” you only just manage to say before you choke on a whine as he creates electricity within you, your voice breaking and trembling with desperation. You are well aware of how pathetic you sound, how needy, but you don’t care because you can feel the tension building with each stroke inside of you. With his thumb, he reaches out and swirls it around your clit, and you know he can feel how hard it has gotten in its aroused state; a little bump underneath the tip of his finger. It is so sensitive now too, making you wetter with each little push against it. 

You throw your head back and draw in a desperate breath, wanting so badly to swear at the sensation of him fucking you open like he has been thinking about it all day. Yet it doesn’t feel worth it to break the rules of using foul language, resulting in having him halt his doings. Instead, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and reach for your chest to relieve some of the tension in your body. 

You cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them to add another dimension to the way Joel is touching you. He swears below you at the way you clench around his fingers when you catch your nipples between two fingers, tugging to intensify the sensation between your thighs. 

“You are so sexy like that, Tink,” Joel murmurs softly in praise. He leans down to kiss your belly, kiss your inner thigh, and all the way up to your knee too. He keeps the relentless rhythm of his fingers but then also rests his free hand on your stomach just below your belly button, knowing that this is how he made you squirt the first time. He pushes down on your belly to add that final touch, and it is almost too much, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. 

Your legs start to tremble in Joel’s peripheral vision, in need of being held down by Joel’s strong arm so he doesn’t lose his grip on the intense orgasm he has built up inside of you. Your eyes start to roll back and a high-pitched whimper escapes you as he has you teetering on the edge. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are so goddamn close, ain’t you? Glowin’ f’me so prettily. Come on, come for Daddy, baby. He put in so much work,” he talks you over the edge in the next moment, holding your cunt in an iron grip as you suddenly clamp down on his digits and start shuddering violently. He keeps his fingers inside of you, pressing them firmly against your g-spot while simultaneously rubbing your clit in taught little circles. It makes you gush all over his hand, soaking the towel beneath you as wave after wave comes crashing. 

You have been vocal throughout the whole thing, sure, but it is nothing compared to your cries right now as relieving pleasure wracks through your lower body and makes you sob. 

“God, you make Daddy so hard,” you hear Joel say but there’s a fog wrapped around your mind like a woolen blanket. When you feel yourself gushing again, it’s so intense that tears are spilling down your cheeks and the fabric of your dress clings to your sweat-slicked body. You feel slightly claustrophobic in the moment but you have no control of your body, so you let Joel’s soothing words guide you through an orgasm that’ll be worth bragging about to Hannah. 

When it finally ebbs out, Joel eases his fingers out and makes you mewl. He wipes his hand on the towel and then soothingly strokes along your thighs as you try to relish in your post-orgasmic bliss. 

However, you start tugging on your dress instead, desperately trying to escape its confines while you pant in the aftermath. You are still so fucked out that it doesn’t come off during your attempt, your hands shaking and a whine making Joel gently chuckle. 

“Stop, stop, lemme help you,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, taking your wrists in his hands to stop your desperate effort. You let out a soft plea for him, pouting for show as you follow orders and he guides you to sit, slow as he moves you in case your head is still woozy. He reaches behind you and up under the fairy wings to undo the zipper of the green dress, pausing for a moment before deciding to tug the fabric downward instead of up over your head. The garment slips down until it sits around your waist. He pushes you down onto your back again so he can ease it past your hips and off your legs. 

He stands there for a moment more before tugging his underwear down his legs, quickly kicking them to the side, and then he just stares. You feel cherished by him when he touches you but it’s different when he just looks; you feel sexy underneath his gaze. You know you’re a sight to behold when he swallows thickly, a disheveled little naked fae with her wings bent from how well she’s been fucked. 

Finally, he crawls on top of you. He presses close to you, pulling your leg over his waist as he catches your mouth in a long, drawn-out kiss that perfectly displays the affection and hunger within him. You kiss him back, sighing softly into his mouth and reaching up to run your hands over his broad shoulders, eventually settling them on the back of his head. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug him back to your mouth each time he needs a breath, whispering to him during the mere seconds you are without each other. 

“Need you, baby,” you pant softly, lips sensitive from kissing so feverishly until your body feels ready for more without the risk of combusting on the sheets. Joel’s cock is hard against your thigh, and he can’t stop murmuring half sentences as he crashes his crotch into your hip with a low moan while telling you just how good it will feel to be inside you. 

“Yeah? This little pussy needs to get fucked?” He cups your face and dives into your mouth anew. 

“Yeah,” you moan breathily with a nod, brushing your tongues together in the new filthy kiss, “Need you to make me your little fucktoy, Daddy. That’s all I’m good for.”

“That’s right, Tink,” he growls, his eyes having darkened at your obscene words. With a hint of reluctance, he pulls away from you so he can flip you onto your stomach. With a firm grip on your hips, he helps you up onto your hands and knees. 

It’s a struggle to hold yourself up but you stiffen, quickly finding your bearings, as Joel raises his hand a little in the air before giving you a firm smack on your ass. The sting makes you gasp, your fingers clutching the sheets below you. He soothes the pain, speaking as someone put together even if his ragged breathing gives him away, “Who do ya belong to, little fae?”

“Y-you,” you stammer, your voice wavering but still holding a tinge of eagerness. He smacks you again, this time harder so the sound bounces off the walls. 

“And who am I?” He demands, not satisfied with your simple answer. 

“Daddy,” you plead with a feeble cry, clenching around nothing and feeling a bead of slick drip from your clit. 

“That’s right,” he gruffs. Even though it is unnecessary with how soaked you are from your arousal and Joel’s impressive generosity tonight, he still spits into his hand and coats his thick length in it. He aligns with your dripping slit and breaches you with the tip of his cock. 

A whimper tumbles from your mouth and he shushes you gently. He is so big inside of you that everything hurts just enough to make you whine feebly but at the same time, he feels just right inside you as he slips in right to the hilt. There’s a looming yet exciting danger of him being in complete control in this position but he is so careful with you as he starts fucking you. Well, as careful as a man can be when he gets to be balls-deep in Tinkerbell. 

You groan at the feeling of him having his way with you. He has reached the point where he has little patience left from putting his own needs aside for too long, longing to use you to spill into. You are overstimulated by the two highs he has already pulled from you. It intensifies the sensation of him effortlessly slipping in and out of your slick cunt, so much so that you don’t last long in this position and end up with your face in the mattress.

“Ah–... ah,” you squeak each time he bottoms out, mercilessly letting you feel the depth of each stroke and keeping you panting under his weight, almost dizzy with how hard he is inside your soft heat.

“You like that?” He presses you down further into the mattress by planting his hand firmly on the back of your neck as a clear, dominant gesture that holds you in place for him to drive into you even harder.

"Yes, yes, thank you, Daddy," you manage to gasp out, your words muffled by the bedding as your body shudders under the force of his thrusts. Each of your words stutters along with your breathing, each movement of his harsh rhythm makes his hips crash into your ass.

Joel's grip on the back of your neck tightens just a little, his breaths coming out in shallow pants while a growl leaves him, “Just fuckin’ take it, baby. You can do it.”

“You feel so fu—“ you catch yourself in your delirious state of mind, yet again not about to be punished for breaking the rule of swearing. That’s only allowed by the real grownups, so you swallow around a little gasp and pretend like it almost didn't happen, “You feel so good, Daddy.”

Suddenly, he rakes his hand down your spine, through the sweat that is beading there and grabs your hips. He drags you onto your hands and knees, your tits bouncing as he knocks all wind out of you when he begins thrusting again. 

You make a noise in the very back of your throat, a sudden surge of pleasure through your body at the new angle making you realize how close you are again. You are sweating, you are crying with actual tears spilling down your cheeks, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, and God, you just need a little help getting there.

“Harder,” you plead pathetically, craving his cock right against the spot inside of you that he might as well label as his own, “Please, I can take it, Daddy.”

It is the truth; you’re practically molded into a sheath for his cock only from how many times he has fucked you since the beginning of the summer. However, at the same time, it feels like you can barely take anymore he has to give, so stuffed that you think you’re about to lose control. 

“Shh,” he soothes your sobs, voice softening in beautiful contrast to his relentless pace, “Daddy’s got ya. Daddy’s happy to give you - shit, baby - to give you whatcha need.”

“Ah!” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the pleasure right around the corner. It makes you able to hear how the bed is squeaking, how the headboard is continuously slamming against the wall. 

“Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna come on it?” You hear him behind you and in response, you nod frantically when no intelligible words come out. He splays a hand on your back and gives you his all to get you there, “God, I love to see you act like a cockdrunk little fae.”

“Mhm!” Your cries turn to high-pitched keens as your orgasm catches up with you and hits you like a bolt of lightning. You are done for, trembling through the strong pulses between your legs as you come hard enough to wipe your mind. Behind you, Joel groans as your walls try to trap his cock in a grip that has him faltering just for a moment. However, he quickly regains his momentum so he can fuck you through each overwhelming wave. 

“Well done, baby. Good girl comin’ on my cock,” he praises through gritted teeth and you can imagine the slightly angry face he has on as he feels his own climax speed towards him, “Daddy’s gonna fill you up right now.” 

“Really?” You ask dreamily with your eyes closed in the middle of your afterglow, a dazed smile on your face. Bliss is not the right word, too much mind-numbing and brain-quietening exhaustion following it. Behind you, Joel is still pounding into your squelching cunt but you can do nothing more than giggle happily in between sweet moans whenever he hits something just right. 

The giggles cause you to tighten around his girth, squeezing him just enough for him to swear loudly at the exquisite feeling your body wrapped around him. He lets go because he can’t hold back anymore, coming inside of your pussy with controlled, hard thrusts that wipe the little smile off your face because air gets knocked out of you. 

“Yes, please gimme your come, Daddy, please give it to me,” you urge him and furrow your brows, practically drooling down onto the sheets as he abuses your pussy in his blissful state. He is so deep inside of you as he spurts, coating your velvety walls in his thick and generous load. It feels so fucking good. Nothing like anything a good little fairy would ever do. You even start thanking him, panting as you say the words over and over again.

“Christ, baby,” he moans behind you, “So goddamn dirty for Daddy.”

You whimper when he leaves you empty a moment later, causing you to collapse onto your front with your hands resting underneath your cheek and your fingers curling into the sheets. You want to bite into the bed, your head swimming with how good and fucked out you feel. 

Joel moves to lie down next to you, his body halfway on its side so he can kiss your sweat-glistening shoulder. He moves upwards when you shiver at the first touch of his lips, dragging his mouth up to your warm cheek. He plants a kiss right by the corner of your mouth, and you absentmindedly reach out to stroke along his jaw. 

“That was so good,” you say with a tiny moan. 

“You are so perfect,” he praises lovingly. He moves to lie down on top of your limp body, crushing you so heavenly with his weight as his chest sticks to your back. The wings of your costume crumble, flattening from being squashed. His arms envelop you and a large hand brushes a bit of loose hair away from your neck. He dips down to kiss just below the base of your skull and you find yourself automatically stretching your neck for even more. He showers you in kisses, lips trailing up and down your throat until you feel a burning need to breathe him in further, to be even closer. 

You whine like a child, wiggling underneath the weight of him until he shifts to lie beside you again. He drags you close to his warm chest, planting a broad palm on your back and you respond by scooting forward to climb even further into his arms. Frustration bubbles up in your chest because it doesn’t feel like he is close enough, not even when you whimper and bury your face in the crook of his warm neck. He chuckles affectionately above you, cradling you like you are the most precious thing he owns, and rests his lips on your disheveled hair. 

“Joel…” You whisper and try to tug at him even more, your arms going under his so you can be flush against him and mold together with his much stronger embrace. You grab at his shoulders, had no idea that there could be such a loud and powerful yearning in your chest for someone you already have.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer. You feel his hand move gently along your naked back, trying to soothe you as you continuously try to shift yourself even closer in his arms though you’re already as close as you can get. 

“It’s not close enough,” you complain feebly and shift once more, a bit of embarrassment flowing through you at how needy you come off. It’s rare that you feel like this but the conversation you had with Hannah earlier has your head in a lovesick spin. The need for Joel is unmatched by anything you have ever felt because this state of mind isn’t fuelled by desire anymore - you have already gotten that out of your system - but rather an all-consuming need for love. 

Joel shushes you gently when you whine once more and squeezes you tightly to relieve your discontent, coaxing your impatient and restless body to calm down. He talks gently and says your name, his voice reverberating through his chest, “Look at me.”

You tilt your head back to meet his gaze, and he smiles one of the smiles that he only reserves for you. He whispers, “I love you.”

And then he reaches up slowly to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He dips down to kiss you softly on the lips, grounding you further and making your mind go quiet. It’s not rushed, not as passionate as the kisses you’ve shared just moments before but it’s sweeter than honey. 

As you let your guard down fully with a mind completely blank, a sentence slips from your mouth without a second thought. It’s not something you planned to say but you have no control over your actions when he kisses you like that.

“Guess what?” You giggle, lost in his eyes. 

“What, babydoll?” He smiles down at you.

“I told Hannah about us,” you confess, another wave of giddiness washing over you at the excitement. 

However, it quickly passes over you as Joel’s face shifts to an expression of something concerned, tingeing on angry but mostly just unpleasant. Immediately, his jaw tightens, “You did what?”

Your face drops along with your stomach. You try to find the words to calm him but when you open your mouth there are no words that fit. His stare is so intense, laced with frustration and paranoia that makes your throat start tingling with tears. 

“Joel—“ you croak when he pulls back a little, the distance between you feeling unnaturally cold. 

“Do you have any idea what could possibly happen if she lets this slip?” He doesn’t look at you, rolling onto his back to rest the back of his thumbs against his forehead, “You should have talked to me about this first.” 

“Joel, she would never— I trust her!“ You insist but you mostly just hear yourself sounding like a child. You want to defend your choice even further but he is already interrupting you with a dangerous chuckle.

“That’s not the damn point, honey. People talk, people slip up. You think we’re goin’ to be in the shadows for much longer now?” He sits up, hands on his bent knees. 

“You’re acting insane,” you say bitterly and sit up as well, anger bubbling up in your own chest at his condescending tone and suddenly, you find yourself fighting his lecture. You bite back, “It’s not that big a deal. It’s not fun for me to hide all the time because you’re scared.”

“No, don’t you dare twist this ‘round on me when you are out there runnin' your mouth,” he growls, making you flinch when his voice is louder than you have ever heard it before, “I - opposed to you - am tryna protect what we have.”

You can hear your pulse in your ears, “You know what? Stop pretending like this is for my own good when it feels like you are just protecting yourself. Actually, maybe you should ask yourself if this is what you really want.”

Joel scoffs, suddenly hauntingly calm in his tone once more and you miss the warm tinge that his voice always has when he speaks to you, “Maybe I am some kind of fool for thinkin’ we could ever work. Maybe if we were closer in age, it’d be easier. Maybe if I didn’t have a past with your family, and I hadn’t known you since you were a kid then this wouldn’t feel so goddamn wrong.”

The words hit like a punch. Your anger mingles with hurt. It doesn’t feel fair to attack your age like he is because you cannot change it, and that’s the worst part of it. In a feeble attempt to defend yourself, you go for the killing blow. 

“You think you’re the fool here? I let myself fall in love with you,” you falter with a tremble in your voice but then get a hold of yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, “I laughed at your jokes and I let you fuck me because I thought you weren’t going to run the second things got hard. Well congratulations; you got to play self-righteous to make yourself feel better. You are the biggest fucking coward, Miller.”

The second you see the glimpse of hurt in his eye, you regret every syllable yet your stupid pride makes you hold onto the image that you meant every one. You realize your wording, that you have talked about him as if you and him are in the past, and you flex the muscles in your throat to stop yourself from bursting into tears even if your face burns.

“I’ll make it real easy for ya then, sweetheart,” he says coolly, and suddenly, his weight is gone from the mattress and your heart is screaming for him to stay. You watch him move to pick up his clothes and dress quickly, not bothering to fix the way his shirt sits askew on his torso because the determination on his face tells you that he is desperate to leave. 

You clutch around your knees when he bolts from the room, listen to the sound of his feet on the stairs as he descends them, and then finally flinch when the front door slams hard enough to make the whole house rattle. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, the air leaving you shakily.

A single tear rolls down your face, followed by another but you swallow down the grief that comes with how final this interaction seems. Something about it tells you that you won’t see him for a while now, and not just because you are going back to school soon. 

With shame, you slowly rise off the bed. Your body is sore, sensitive, and aching between your thighs, and you are still covered in evidence from having sex with him. Feeling him on you despite his absence is usually a thing you relish in but in this moment, it just feels like a cruel reminder of what you might not get to have in the future.

You sit down on the toilet to pee, your knees falling inwards and your body sagging from the exhaustion of what you have just been through. The heartache is so raw, sitting tightly in your throat as a lump that you can barely swallow around while you do your business and afterward mechanically take a shower and clean yourself up in front of the sink. 

When you reenter the bedroom, it feels like you are an intruder and this is your crime scene. You scan the room for your things but cruelly, your eyes fall on one of Joel’s shirts hanging on the back of the chair at the desk. It is already worn, hasn’t been thrown in the laundry basket yet. Ideally, you shouldn’t walk home in the skimpy outfit you arrived in and so, you’re tempted to put it on - if not only to let his familiar scent envelop you - but you cannot risk it. The last thing you need is to walk into your parents’ house wearing his clothes, walk in with the smell of him lingering on you. 

So instead, you slip back into your Tinkerbell costume in the emptiness of Joel’s bedroom, not even the ghost of him lingering, trying not to think about how excited you had been about dressing up for him just a few hours ago. 

—

Your father is in the living room when you quietly enter the house again. You try to sneak past him, hoping that the low hum of the TV will distract him from your footsteps, but as you move past the doorway, he catches you off guard. 

“You’re home early?” He says but it is a question as well as a statement. He reaches for the remote to turn down the volume but when he sees your face, he furrows his brows and turns off the television altogether. 

You force a little smile, “Yeah, just wasn’t feeling it.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, pushing himself to stand in the soft glow of the reading light, “C’mere for a second.”

Reluctantly, you make your way to stand in front of him, your heels clicking on the floorboards. Your shoulders sag as you stop in front of his tall frame, and he studies you for a moment before nudging you with the warmth of his voice, “Did something happen tonight, honey?” 

“No,” you say shakily, avoiding his gaze as your throat feels tight, “No, it was a great party but I was just too tired.”

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly, reaching out to lay his hands on your shoulders. His palms are warm and you’re cold from walking home with a barely dried-off body and no jacket since you bolted out the door. You stare into his eyes, lip trembling as he continues, “I can see you’re not okay. Did something happen?”

You wish that you could say that it is nothing because the reality of it is cruel, ten thousand miles between what he thinks he understands and the truth that you must keep painfully lodged in your chest, taking up too much space for your heart. However, the dam breaks at the gentleness he shows you, the love burning beneath his concern, and suddenly, a sob breaks free. 

Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close with his hand rubbing your back. You know you don’t deserve his reassurance as he coos in your ear, has no clue how complicated things are. 

You shake in his embrace, your tears wetting the shoulder of his soft shirt. He kisses your hair affectionately, squeezing you while his protective words rumble in his chest, “Listen to me. I need you to tell me if someone hurt you, okay? I won’t be mad. I just wanna help.”

“It’s not like that,” you reassure him and in response, you can feel him relax a little bit as he holds you, sighing in relief. You sniffle, resting your cheek against his chest, “I just got close to someone and it got complicated. He said some things that— I mean, I did too but it really hurt, Dad.”

“You’re allowed to make mistakes, to care for people who maybe don’t deserve it but don’t let anyone make you feel small,” he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, pauses for a moment before continuing, “If this person don’t treat you right… maybe it’s time to reconsider how much space they take up in your life.”

“Yeah… maybe you’re right, thanks, Dad,” you reply with enough conviction that he gives you a smile, proud to have gotten through to you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the person you are talking about is the only person that you cannot avoid either, the only person who can break both of your hearts.

.

.

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[hellbornsworld]

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[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[agentstarkid]

ABSOLUTE BRAIN ROT 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

this commentary is now being broadcast from hell because holy fucking shit I'm fucking deceased 💀💀💀

My Empress, he said.

My Empress.

MY. Empress. 🤯🤯🤯

Bestie even if I've gotten a taste (😉) of this chapter before you posted it and THAT got me losing my shit, reading the complete chapter got me holding in my screams and having to take pauses between lines because otherwise I would probably have everyone around me thinking I got posessed or something (I wanna get posessed by Roy Kent's dick though)

like fucking hell, Tally... you and that beautiful brain of yours deserve a fucking nobel prize in smut writing because you, sure as hell, are making notable contributions to humanity 🥵🥵🥵🥵

“Good fucking girl,”

When you opened your mouth, he stuck his two drenched fingers inside.

“There she is, My fucking Empress. Feel so fucking good. Just for me.”

Using the fingers in your mouth as leverage, he made you nod slowly, as though you were his little toy. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

He slowly inched his fingers further into your mouth, prompting you to suck them with the same enthusiasm you would his cock.

“You look so fucking perfect, My dirty Empress.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised, planting a tender kiss to your neck. “’ve always got you.” -> MY FUCKING FAVORITE SOFT!DOM OMG 😩😩😩😩

…Roy glide a single finger over your sticky thigh and bring a cum-covered finger to your lips. “Taste.” -> BRO I'M FUCKING WHIMPERING SHAKING SCREAMING (without the S)

AND FUCKING IAN... BE GONE ASSHOLE!!!! NARCISSISTIC, MANIPULATIVE AND UNFAITHFUL (with a) LITTLE PRICK

can't wait for the next chapter because I know what's coming 😏🥵

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 6)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

4.9k words

Warnings: Language, mean & jealous Roy (in a good way), evil ex-boyfriend, rough sex, Roy feeling angsty, fingering, some cum play, hickies, Roy being kind of a dom

@agentstarkid brain rot, brain rot, brain rot

A/N: Y'all this has to be THE horniest writing I have ever done 😭

Series Masterlist

“Hey Roy, you going to Belgium?”

Roy furrowed his brows at Isaac as the captain, Jamie, and Sam all looked at him expectantly “Belgium?” he repeated.

Sam nodded. “For the race,” he added, as if Roy should know exactly what he was talking about.

The manager’s deepening frown told the boys that he did not.

Jamie sighed impatiently. “Your girlfriend, Grandad. We’re going to go watch her. She was telling us all about it in Leeds, and then when she was in Richmond, she gave Keeley the tickets and stuff to give Isaac. You’re going, aren’t ya?”

Belgium. Roy’s stomach sank a little as the guys began chattering about their plans, how excited they were to watch the race, the parties they’d been promised. He knew you had another race coming up, but you hadn’t mentioned a word of it to him. Of course, if you’d asked, he’d have gone. The Greyhounds had a bye that weekend, meaning he was completely free to go, to root for you, to share another bottle of scotch in some extravagant hotel suite. It would make sense for you to ask him to go; after all, he was clearly interested in racing, and, more importantly, he was clearly more interested in you. He’d tried not to read too much into the lack of invitation; but fuck, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for a simple hey, come meet me in Belgium during one of the many texts you’d sent him.

And now, hearing that you’d explicitly excited his team… well fuck.

“Come with us, Roy,” Isaac insisted.

He cleared his throat, desperately trying to play it off. “Dunno. Probably got Phoebe, need to catch up on shit at home-”

Another sigh from Jamie. “Come on, Coach. Just admit you want to see your girlfriend and fuckin’ come with us!”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Roy hadn’t meant for it to come off as a harsh growl, but that’s definitely what came out of his mouth. “Once again, we barely fucking know each other.”

The smirk on Jamie’s face was nothing short of punchable. “Then why d’you text her all the damn time?”

“Do not,” Roy lied.

Of all the players, Sam was one of the last Roy would’ve expected to tease him. “You’re blushing, Roy.”

He rolled his eyes, dying to get out of this conversation. “If I agree to come,” he mumbled. “Will you all shut the fuck up?

The three players looked at each other before breaking into a trio of mischievous grins.

Finally, Isaac opened his mouth. “No promises.”

~

Roy Kent looked good.

Who were you kidding? Roy Kent always looked good. Your mouth was practically watering as you watched him chat with the Greyhounds he stood with in the garage, rolling his eyes at something one of them said.

So, you hadn’t actually invited Roy to come to your race, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he’d be there. After all, when you’d sent Keeley the tickets for the boys, you’d included an extra one, encouraging Isaac to invite “whoever”. Knowing Jamie had been teasing Roy about you, you knew exactly who they’d be bringing.

Watching his eyes dart around, obviously looking for you, you couldn’t resist the urge to go over and say hi. The two of you had fallen asleep on the phone a couple more times since that phone call, there’d been lots of texts sent back and forth, and Roy was even figuring out how to send selfies. And now he was here, in Belgium, surprising you. Tearing down that wall you’d built around your heart, brick by brick.

Feeling a bit like a teenage girl approaching the most popular boy in school, you turned around, so Roy wouldn’t see the way you tightened the knot of your half-down racing suit and lifted your shirt a smidge to give that little peek of skin. After giving your hair a quick touch, you turned around, ready to put on that confident smirk and go say-

“Hey there.”

Your face completely fell at the sight of that horribly gorgeous smile. “Ian,” you murmured, taking a step back, away from your ex-boyfriend, who you were sure hadn’t been in a paddock in about a year, let alone less than a foot away from you like he was now. “What’re you doing here?”

His smile widened, planting a knot in your stomach. “Here to see you, of course.”

“Oh.” Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, where you could see Roy beginning to turn his head a bit more obviously, growing anxious to see you already. “Well, thanks.”

Thankfully, one of your engineers, familiar with the panicked look that Ian Novak’s beautiful face often inspired, hustled over with some excuse to get you away from the model. As you let yourself be led away, you turned your gaze, finally locking eyes with Roy Kent. The corner of his perfect mouth ticked upwards as he offered a small nod in greeting, eyebrows raised playfully. Normally, the sight would have you pressing your thighs together and thinking of all the sinful things you wanted to do with him. Instead, you looked away from those brown eyes as quickly as you could.

Fuck. Roy Kent could hurt you, couldn’t he? If Ian Novak, devilish man he was, could manage to make you feel adored and comfortable enough that the heartbreak he gifted you was the most devastating pain you could imagine, what was Roy Kent, with his soft brown eyes and half smiles and hands that both excited and cherished you, capable of? How shattered would you be if he decided he was done with you?

Maybe you didn’t want to find out.

~

For the millionth time that weekend, Roy wondered what he’d done wrong. All he’d received from you was a quick hello when the guys insisted on going to say hey to you. No flirting. No bedroom eyes. No electric touches. And definitely no teasing implications about ending up in bed together.

Not exactly what he’d expected.

He kept trying to catch your eye when the two of you were in the same room, but you kept looking away every time he succeeded. This wasn’t the behavior of someone excited to see him, and especially not the behavior of someone looking forward to sleeping with him.

As he lost track of his beers and contemplated leaving the party being held to celebrate your win, he saw Jamie perk up, his eyes flickering between Roy and somewhere behind him. Before Jamie could give him a warning, Roy turned around.

It was like someone’d punched him and knocked the fucking wind out of him. There you were, stunning in a Ferrari-red dress and matching lipstick, looking up at some disgustingly pretty man, who gazed at you like, well, like how Roy looked at you. He turned back to Jamie, immediately hating the pitiful look on the striker’s face.

“That’s her ex-boyfriend,” Jamie murmured, taking a sip of his own beer. “Model.”

“The one that fucking cheated on her?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “For ‘barely know each other’ you sure know a good bit about her, Roy. Maybe-”

Roy scowled. “Keeley talks too much,” he mumbled before taking a long swig of his beer. He looked over his shoulder again; that man’s hand was on your lower back, where Roy’s hand should have been. “Looks like a prick,” he huffed.

“Oh, he definitely is,” Jamie agreed. “And that’s me saying that. Not sure why she’d give him the time of day.” He punched Roy’s arm playfully. “Especially with Roy Kent in the room.”

After rolling his eyes at Jamie’s compliment, Roy nodded towards the door that led to the hallway connecting the venue to the rest of the hotel. “Going to get some air,” he muttered, ignoring the protests of his players.

Because he was so busy skulking off, Roy missed watching you with your ex.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, shoving Ian’s hand off of your waist. “In case you’ve forgotten, we broke up, remember?”

His lopsided smile was too familiar. “Just congratulating you on a job well done. You were great today, babe.”

Babe. When Roy Kent called you that, it’d made your heart- and something else- flutter. But when Ian Novak called you that, it made your blood run cold. You reached out and pushed him further away.

“I’m not your babe.”

Slipping away from the embrace he tried, you briskly left the party venue, eyes stinging as you made your way to the deserted hallway. Who cared if you’d won and were the guest of honor? All you wanted was to get up to your room, get out of this dress, put on-

Roy’s eyes locked onto yours. He was in that same hallway, leaning against a wall and looking like the dictionary definition of melancholy. His stupid old heart nearly stopped at the sight of you, then twisted when he saw all the hurt your eyes carried. He pushed himself up off the wall as you got closer, your hands fidgeting; he wasn’t used to seeing you so… gloomy.

“’s wrong with you?” he muttered once you were standing in front of him. “Boyfriend problems?”

Your frown deepened. “Boyfriend…?” It dawned on you. “Oh, fuck. Ian.”

Roy nodded, his eyes practically made of steel. “Yeah. Ian,” he spat. “What, you get sick of him already?” He knew he sounded jealous and resentful, two things he wasn’t sure he had the right to be. But he didn’t care; not when he’d come all this way just to see you with some other prick.

“Listen,” you sighed. “Roy-”

He shook his head, not caring if you saw the hurt and anger in his eyes. “No. It’s fine. I fucking get it.” He gulped. “He’s a model. His knees probably fucking work. Probably even knows how to smile.” He cleared his throat. “Stupid, coming to fucking Belgium,” he mumbled. “You didn’t even fucking want me here.”

“I did,” you yelped, probably quicker and louder than you should have. “I mean, I do. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Funny way of showing it,” he grunted, not letting you see the way your words had his heart hammering. No, Roy was still pissed. “Ignoring me all fucking weekend.”

You nodded, face aflame. “Yeah. No, that’s true.” You took a tentative step towards Roy. “But I’m glad you’re here. Really glad,” you insisted as you pressed your body to his, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

“Yeah. Well.” He averted his gaze, knowing that the familiar look in your eye would have him dropping this little resentment.

“Roy,” you cooed, letting your hands wander up his chest, not caring if someone walked by and saw you embracing the brooding manager. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Oof. Apparently that was not the thing to say based on the fiery look in his eye. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you, especially when he reached up to grab your jaw.

“Jealous?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You think I’m jealous?”

You gulped. Actually fucking gulped. And that little movement had Roy’s scowl replaced with the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen. His grip was firm; not painful, but definitely strong. For the number of times you’d hooked up, you’d never seen his eyes so dark, filled with a mixture of irritation and lust. It had you rubbing your thighs together, not caring if Roy noticed.

And Roy definitely noticed.

His eyes flickered over your shoulder for a brief moment before settling on your parted lips.

“Let’s go.”

Keeping his grip on your jaw, he pushed you backwards, opening a door behind you and guiding you into a deserted women’s bathroom. He quickly locked the door and moved a vanity chair under the handle, clearly planning on being in here for a while. Once privacy was secured, his eyes were on you again.

“Jealous,” he repeated, a scoff now. “Fucking jealous.”

He walked you back until your ass hit the row of sinks, the cold stone penetrating through your tight dress. His hands found the spot on your upper thigh where dress met bare skin, his fingers dipping just under the soft material to grip your flesh roughly, tugging the hem of your dress up around your hips.

Instinctively, you threw your head back at his touch, feeling electricity follow his fingertips as they brushed over your skin. Roy’s hand immediately was on your jaw again, tugging you to face him.

“Watch,” he demanded in a low voice.

With a whimper that was more from arousal than anything else, you obeyed. You watched as he brought his hands over your hips and slowly rolled down your panties, letting them drop in a little pool of lace around your ankles. He placed one hand on your hip with a bruising grip as the other hand came to your already drenched pussy. When one finger traced your slit, you had to use all your concentration to keep yourself from throwing your head back in pleasure.

“So fucking wet,” Roy groaned, adding another finger as he slowly caressed your soaking lips. “Who’s that for? Your pretty boy ex?”

Not caring about looking desperate, you frantically shook your head. “You, Roy,” you murmured, your voice breathy. “All for you.” You leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss, to assure him with your mouth that he was all you wanted, but he shook his head.

“Thought I told you to watch.”

No man had ever spoken to you this way. Most guys tried so hard to be smooth, or romantic, or cool. No one had ever been so possessive, so jealous. No one had ever stared at you with such an intensity. And no man had ever turned you on so fucking much.

Obediently, you tilted your head back down to watch as Roy slipped those two fingers inside you, setting a rough, mean pace that already had you gripping the sinks so hard your knuckles turned white. His thumb began stroking harsh circles on your clit, adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

“You better keep fucking watching,” he grumbled before his mouth attached to your neck, kissing with more tongue than lip, leaving a slobbery path over your skin.

Even with his eyes off of your face, you did as you were told. You watched those two firm fingers pump in and out of you, curling upwards in that way Roy did that had you squirming in your now wobbling high heels. The only thing keeping you upright was this sink and Roy’s harsh grip.

Roy grunted when he hit a particularly deep spot and felt you clench around his fingers. “You really hurt my fucking feelings,” he growled against your neck, giving a soft bite to the sensitive skin. “Ignoring me while you paraded around in that little fucking racing suit. Looking like a fucking goddess.” His thumb pressed down on your clit, provoking a sharp whine from you. “Like my fucking Empress.”

“Yours, Roy,” you groaned as your hips stuttered against his hand, your climax rapidly approaching. “All fucking yours.”

And you meant it. You really fucking meant it.

“Damn right you’re mine,” he grunted, adding a third finger to your sopping cunt. “And I want to feel you come just for me.”

Apparently, his wish was your command.

Something deep within you snapped, and you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, so tight that his third finger slipped out. But he kept fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, finally moving his mouth to yours to swallow your lewd moans as you soaked his fingers with your release.

“Good fucking girl,” he mumbled against your mouth as your vision went blurry; the only thing you could focus on was the trembling pleasure Roy gave you. “His fingers ever make you come like this?”

Your orgasm rendered your speechless, so all you could do was give a little shake of your head, desperate not to lose the feeling of Roy’s lips against yours. His pumps slowed as you came down from your high; you let go of the sink and gripped his arms, needing some help with standing.

But Roy didn’t want you to stand.

“Turn around,” he growled, pulling his soaked fingers out of you. “Unless you’re fucking done with me? Hmm? Got what you wanted from me, yeah? Ready to go back to your little party and ignore me some more?”

You bit your lip as your eyes travelled down to the extremely noticeable bulge in his pants. When you looked back at his face, it was dark with desire.

“Need you,” you managed to croak out.

That was good enough for him. Not caring if he got your juices on your dress, he grabbed your hips and spun you around, pushing you down over the sink. Instinctively, you spread your legs, listening for the delicious sound of his zipper coming undone. Your entire body vibrated with pleasure as you felt his tip, already dripping with precum, press against your soaked core.

Roy brought his hand- the one soaked from your orgasm- to your face. “Open,” he demanded. When you opened your mouth, he stuck his two drenched fingers inside. “Don’t want anyone else hearing your pretty fucking sounds. Those are just for me, aren’t they?”

You nodded, moaning around his gorgeous fingers as you tasted your pleasure on him. Fuck, no wonder he was addicted to making you come, some dirty part of you thought. You were delicious.

Satisfied with the view before him, Roy slowly buried himself inside your soaked cunt with ease, his eyes staring into yours through the mirror with that same mix of lust and possessiveness.

“There she is,” he sighed as he set a harsh pace, his free hand on your back to keep you bent over for him. “My fucking Empress. Feel so fucking good. Just for me.”

A muffled “Mmm hmm” around his fingers was all you could manage as you bucked your hips back against him, drooling at the feeling of his hot skin against your bare ass. His cock felt perfect inside you, twitching and throbbing against your already spasming walls.

Eyes still on yours in the mirror, he lowered his mouth to your bare upper back and began leaving rough kisses all over your skin, sloppy and reckless, until those kisses became bites. Roy started sucking at the soft skin as he thrust into your slowly bruising sex over and over again, moaning against your back. When you clenched around him particularly tight, his tongue left a slow, deliberate trail across your skin, sending shivers down the spine he still had his hand on.

He groaned and gave a particularly stuttering jerk into you. “Should I mark you up?” he teased. “Show everyone who you belong to?” Using the fingers in your mouth as leverage, he made you nod slowly, as though you were his little toy. “Well, if you insist.” Rolling his hips harder, deeper, Roy returned to your back, sucking hard enough to make you whimper against the pads of his fingers. But the way you rocked into him assured him you liked it.

“Fucking look at you,” he moaned, giving you a bit of that hip action that had you seeing stars. “You ever been fucked like this, gorgeous girl? Bent over in a fucking bathroom, fingers in your mouth?” He brought his lips to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Bet no pretty boy’s ever done this.” He started sucking on the spot behind your ear, that perfect little spot that had you mewling as you spasmed against him.

He slowly inched his fingers further into your mouth, prompting you to suck them with the same enthusiasm you would his cock. The sensation had him twitching inside you, desperate to paint your walls.

“You look so fucking perfect,” he muttered as he returned his mouth to your slowly purpling back, adding more beautiful little dark spots wherever he could reach. “My dirty Empress.” He licked over a bite mark he’d left, one he hoped you’d have for days. “You want to come for me, gorgeous?”

Your desperate nod had him groaning. He’d never seen anyone look so fucking desperate, needy, hungry for him. After being ignored by you all weekend, to have you bent over in a public bathroom, panties on the floor, mouth full of his fingers, all of it was driving him mad. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, but he knew he needed to let you come first.

He needed to remind you about how he could make you feel.

He removed his fingers from your mouth, drooling a bit when he heard the little whine that escaped your now empty mouth. The hand on your hip came up to your beautiful neck, urging you to stand up with your back to his heaving chest.

When you wobbled, he tightened his grip, just enough to hold you steady. “I’ve got you,” he promised, planting a tender kiss to your neck. “’ve always got you.”

Roy brought those fingers- now sodden from both your cunt and mouth- to your pulsing clit, rubbing firm circles over the bundle of nerves.

“Roy,” you whimpered, gripping his arms with your trembling hands. “Please.”

He smiled, a real smile for the first time all weekend, as his cock continued to bruise your cunt. “Would you look at that,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “My Empress remembered her manners.” He pumped his cock as deep as he could, over and over, desperate to hit that one perfect little spot that would- “Oh, there she is.”

He watched with lewd pride as you fell apart in front of him, mouth open in a silent scream. Your whole body was drenched in sweat as you trembled, your knees buckling beneath you; the only thing keeping you upright was Roy. As your body quivered with pleasure, you slouched back over the sink, wondering vaguely how you were going to walk in the morning, let alone in the next few minutes.

“Such a good girl,” Roy cooed, his voice thick with a beautiful mix of mocking and adoration. “Now tell me what else you want.”

“Your cum,” was your automatic answer as your fingers traced over the cool faucet. “Please,” you begged, probably for the first time in your life. “Please fucking come for me.”

Roy’s devilish smile widened, setting your whole body on fire. “If my Empress insists.”

Whit his hands back on your hips, his thrusts became sloppy, no longer about making you feel good- although, the overstimulation did have your eyes rolling back. He gave a few harsh, bruising drives before you felt him fill you up with that delicious release; fuck, how you wished you could taste it. Pump after pump until you could feel it begin to leak down your thighs. You shivered when you felt Roy glide a single finger over your sticky thigh and bring a cum-covered finger to your lips.

“Taste.”

He didn’t need to order you; you would have automatically stuck out your tongue to get a taste of that tangy stickiness that now coated your throbbing pussy.

The room was filled with ragged breathing as he finally pulled out of you, still keeping a firm grip on you to keep you from falling.

Finally, you smirked at him through the mirror- or at least, as much of a smirk as you could manage.

“Fuck,” you gasped, brushing your wild hair out of your face. “I’m really supposed to go back to the party like this?”

Roy’s dark chuckle had your heart racing. “Party?” he scoffed. “Oh no, baby. I’m not fucking done with you.”

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