#and came back looking even MORE beautiful

[blood-smiles]

𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐎 𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀࣪ ִֶָ☾✴︎˚｡⋆

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 - MDNI TW!! suggestive thoughts and actions coming from yandere . yandere character . defo unprofessional behavior from reader . TO BE CONTINUED!!

╰┈➤ the white flashing of your camera lit up the room, capturing a perfect moment in time inside your device.

Scrolling through the pictures with your thumb, you nodded wordlessly at the various pictures. Perfect and beautiful.

Just how you liked it.

Packing up your gear, you decided it was time you went home, you were tired. Really tired from taking so many pictures, you felt a migraine coming from a mile away.

The soft patter of rain met your eardrums, letting you know it was drizzling and would probably last for a while.

You walked slowly, umbrella in hand, staring at the moon above while rubbing the sides of your head. The soft crashing of the waves hitting the rocks nearby.

Plugging in your headphones and playing some soft music while you walked to your house.

You counted the stars in the sky as you walked along the beach.

“ ♪ Luna quieres ser madre?.. y no encuentras querer que te haga mujer, dime Luna de plata.. Que pretendes hacer con un niño de piel.. ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah.. Hijo de la luna.. ♪ “

You came to a stop, seeing a taller (wo)man (?) leaning against the railing, strange that they were out so late. It was so dark already, what could they possibly be doing out here, in the rain of all places?

Their heterochromatic eyes gazed up at the sky too. Their face solemn and distracted, the rain pouring down over their head and back, their light blue—almost white, wavy hair dampened and forming beautiful coils.

They were so pretty, looking like an angel under the moonlight.. Were your spidey senses tingling right now? You just felt like you should approach them.

“Excuse me.” You interrupted softly, holding out your umbrella over their head, stopping the rain from dampening them even more.

“..What?” Oh, they had a deep voice.. you were caught off guard, they had very feminine traits and flowing long hair, so you just kind of assumed..

“Here.” You handed him your umbrella, which he accepted hesitantly, his hand shaking as he held the handle of the umbrella.

His eyes snapped towards your face, looking deeply into your eyes, looking for a sign of deceit or malice, but only finding kindness and genuine empathy.

His cheeks flushed a little, his ears turning red as he admired your features… how would it feel like if he ran his tongue along your cheek?—What. What was he thinking?!

His fingers slightly grazed your own, sending shivers down his vertebrae and sending his heart into overdrive. 

Snatching the umbrella, holding it close to his chest as he stepped back a little.

“You know, I hope this doesn’t sound creepy but, you’re stunning— You should try modeling! Who knows, maybe one day I’ll photograph you.” 

You joked lightly, putting your hands above your head to shield yourself from the water.

His free hand shakily lifted to cover the bottom portion of his mouth, pupils blown wide as he stumbled back a little. 

..That was the cutest interaction he had ever had up to this point in his entire life. That bashful smile— The twinkle in your (e/c) eyes— everything about you had him in a trance!

“G-Get lost!” He yelled, tightening his hold around the umbrella and running away, his heart beating in his ears, heart swelling and feeling the wings of a swarm of butterflies nicking his guts.

You were left standing under the rain, rethinking your wording and kicking yourself in the stomach  internally for scaring off a potential client.

And… that was the last time you saw him, or so you thought.

Oblivious to you, he just ran off because his heart was in over drive and might have exploded from a cuteness attack.

He glanced down at your umbrella, his eyes zeroing in on the small writing on the handle, ‘Y/n L/n’? That was the name of the cute idiot he met?

Looking up the name all results showed up, your face everywhere! He shakily touched your “face”,  staring into your eyes for an alarming amount of time.

A famous photographer, huh?.. He thought about what you said.. A model? Him? Well, wouldn’t hurt to try.

3 years later…──★ ˙📷 ̟ !!

You had been hired, a big shot model was coming to your studio to get some magazine pictures done.

You opened the models portfolio, checking out some news about him too, he had gone viral lately. 

“Son of the moon’? Huh, interesting.” You mumbled, taking in the model’s proportions, his face rung a bell in your brain. But as hard as you tried to get your synapses to connect, you just couldn’t form a coherent memory..

‘Mikhail White’ …

You chalked it up to seeing him in magazines or social media.

Putting the portfolio aside, your feet pushed you on your own feet, walking over to your setup and making minor tweaks to your studio.

“(Y/n), they’re here.” The voice of your assistant interrupted your movement, nodding your head you put your hands over your professional camera and looped it over your neck.

You stepped back, letting the makeup artist enter with their big box of makeup supplies, then came in the manager of the model, eyes sharp and analytical as she clasped her clipboard in her arm.

And finally, the model entered. The star of the show, Mikhail, A pretty average sized person, for a model, that is. He stopped in front of you, staring you down with those uniquely colored eyes.

You got that feeling again, was it Deja vu, perhaps? Their eyes hit a chord in you, yeah. You had seen them before.. Just where?

“Welcome, thank you for hiring me.” You smiled warmly, turning your gaze to the manager, extending your hand out for a friendly handshake.

The woman scoffed softly, shaking her head “No thank you, I don’t do handshakes.” The tall woman gently replied, although it sounded more like a mother scolding her child.

“O…Okay.” You laughed nervously, letting your hand begin to drop to your side.

“Thank you for having me here, (Y/n).” The model suddenly spoke, gently taking your hand and shaking it before it could totally fall.

“Oh, um. Yeah, for sure!” Taken off guard you reciprocated the hand shake before letting go, his hand not letting go completely.

You pulled your hand free with a soft tug, turning to sit down on your chair as you wait for the makeup artist to doll up the male.

You stared at him from a distance, you felt like he had curly hair, but instead were met with silky, straight hair running down his back.

Mikhail was shaking, his hands quivering on his lap as he looked through the mirror on the vanity. He stared at your form through the reflective surface, watching how you scrolled through your phone or opened the portfolio with his pictures.

Did you think he was attractive? Did you like his hair? He decided to try something new for you, he hoped it caught your eye…

He gently bit down on his bottom lip, looking down to let the artist work on his eyeshadow, he wanted to physically recoil from the person’s hands, wishing it was yours instead.

He had worked up to this point for three whole years, all just to be photographed by you, one of the best photographers in the whole industry.

Ever since that night, under the pouring rain, he couldn’t wipe you off his brain, you were like a drug,the image of you gnawing at his sanity. It hurt so good though, so good he couldn’t stop and soon found himself addicted.

You indirectly changed his life, he went from being a pathetic nobody to one of the most popular and influential models of his time, and honestly.. It was all thanks to you, even if you don’t remember him.

Mikhail dressed in a lacy attire, showing off part of his stomach and most of his thighs, his hair decorated with small silver clips and silk bows, beautiful diamond earrings hanging off his ear lobes.

His face sparkled with glitter, long white eyelashes fluttering, his visage was that of perfection. Comparable to an arctic fox nestled in silks and diamonds, you could see why the media called him the ‘son of the moon’ more clearly now.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” You complimented, leading him to the middle of the shot, he looked up at you, not saying anything, however the flush of his ears said different.

Now, if you remembered correctly, the theme was ‘wedding after-party’ although you didn’t know it was going to be this suggestive..? You did agree to it so no backing out anymore, you suppose.

You had something in your mind already so you just ran with it, the manager agreed with your idea too, you expected her to spit in your face and tell you no in all honestly..

He gazed at the camera with a sultry gaze, imagining it was you he was looking at, he did as you asked, allowing you to brush some of his hair or to position his soft strands as you wished.

He peered up at you through his eyelashes, looking almost desperate, leaning into your touch subconsciously. This had been a fantasy of his for a long time, a real wet dream for him.

In fact, he had pressed for the theme to be more suggestive, wanting you to see him in a more intimate scenario.

In the last shots of the session, everyone came to an agreement to put some false cake frosting pieces over Mikhail, leaning more into the wedding cake aspect.

You dipped your hand in the substance, grabbing some in your hands and leaning down to smudge some over his face, dropping some here and there strategically.

You took your camera back in your hands, positioning it perfectly for it to capture the scene’s beauty and allure.

The ice blue haired man bent and arched his body any and all ways you desired, placing his hands on his lap as he took some of the frosting on his finger and brought it up to his mouth, licking it, sending you the most loving and passionate gaze he could muster. 

Wordlessly hinting with just his sharp eyes how much he wanted something other than a few pictures, something that was spelled with four letters, D-A-T-E.

That..wasn’t scripted, but you just went with it and snapped a few pictures. You leaned back in your chair, stretching out the knots in your back and listening to the pops in your spine.

That was the last of the shots, all you need to do now was transfer the pictures to his manager and get a sweet sweet wad of cash back.

You smiled at the thought, sighing pleasantly.

You bid the trio of workers goodbye, although the rosy cheeked model stayed back, approaching you and putting a small piece of paper in your hand shyly.

Right before you were about to say something he shut you up by pecking your cheek gently.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, his voice soft and heartfelt, it was more…intimate, more meaningful than a simple ‘thanks for taking my pic’, he made it sound like you had just swooped in like Superman and saved his life.

He clasped his hand over yours, making sure you kept the paper in your hand as he began leaving hastily, not lingering for a moment more or less.

‘Go out on a date with me..? XXX-XXX-XXXX ♡’

Well shit. Things just got a whole lot interesting.

[43qh]

is this forever? (m)

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: unprotected sex, soft and sweet!

word count: 2.4k

summary: love is so many different things.

love is a consumption.

you’re convinced it consumes you more than anything else. when you look at quinn, there’s nothing left in your body but love for him. when he has those distressed eyes, you make sure to clear them up. the crinkle in his forehead disappears around you.

when it came to offseason, quinn couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off of you. he was victim to the way you felt in his arms. he considered nothing more perfect.

with you below him, undressed, all for his taking. he couldn’t contain himself. your moans were a calling for him to keep going. each thrust making him sweat a little bit more. buried deep inside you like he was made for you. like you were made for him.

he whispers softly in your ear, “feels so much better than my hand.” he huffs when you clench around him. he wants to savor this moment. “you’re so tight, so warm.”

the sounds you make is music to his ears. it sounds like love to him. quinn was a love maker, you knew that all too well. there were times when he got a bit rough, no complaining on your end. but he was made for this kind of intimacy.

quinn was a lover.

quinn was your lover.

his thrusts were slow, deep. his breaths were uneven at the feeling of you wrapped around him. you could hear the occasional groan and whimper come from him when you clawed at his back a little harder, or when you wrapped your legs around his back to pull him closer. he can’t stop from falling to his elbows at the sensation, falling weak to you.

he groans in your ear, listening to your moans like they’re prayers. “close?” he was out of breath, unable to form a full sentence.

you nod, sweat collecting at the brim of your forehead, “yes, yes, quinn.”

quinn can’t stop his hips from picking up pace at the declaration. he lives for the way you moan his name, the tightening in his chest driving him crazy.

when you cum around his cock, it feels like a chain reaction. he can’t stop the way he cums with you, the way he fills you up to the brim with belated breaths.

the air felt hot and heavy as the both of you calm down, hearts beating in sync like the two of you were one person.

“i love you.” he looks over at you, tilting his head and kissing your cheek.

you hum, “i love you, quinn.”

he kisses your shoulder, “let’s clean up.”

love is time consuming.

not in a bad way.

your thoughts sway back and forth to quinn in everything you do. you make coffee, and the way he likes his coffee comes forth. when he’s gone, you think of how warm he feels laying next to you. you iron his clothes and think about how he looks inside them.

when you hear your phone ring, you know it’s quinn. no one else calls you so consistently the way he does.

“beautiful,” he greets, his voice a little rugged.

“handsome,” you greet back, a smile on your face. you clutch your phone a little tighter in anticipation as he continues on about his day and what he had accomplished. it was routinely when he wasn’t home. it was enough for you.

you could see the furrow in his brows in your mind. the way his lips looked when he talked. the way he would lick them in between sentences. the way he would try to stretch his back.

maybe you knew his habits all too well.

“i can’t wait to come home.” he huffs, and you hear him laying back on a bed.

you sit on the living room couch of your shared house, “i can’t wait either.”

you knew quinn was smiling, “i love you, gorgeous.” his voice grew softer.

you closed your eyes and just listened, “i love you too, quinny.”

he grunts at the nickname, but says nothing about it. there’s a long pause between the two of you. as if you were both just enjoying the company of one another, even if it was over the phone.

you open your eyes and look at the time, realizing just how late it must be for him. “you should sleep.”

quinn huffs, “miss you.”

you smile and bite your lip, “i miss you, too. but i’ll be here tomorrow.”

quinn can’t stop the smile that droops on his sleepy features, “promise?”

“promise.”

“goodnight then, angel.” he yawns.

you smile again, “goodnight, quinn.”

the hang up feels dreadful, but your mind is consumed with the way he talked to you for the rest of the night.

his voice, the way you imagined him sprawled on the bed, his soft words.

quinn will always be on your mind. time and time again.

love is beautiful.

quinn wasn’t the type for slow dancing. but when it was just the two of you, dancing alone to the faint sound of a love song, he couldn’t help the way his heart swelled from the feeling of you in his arms.

love songs reminded him of you. you looked so graceful, a small smile playing on your face as you look at him. he feels the way your hands clasp tighter around his neck, and he smiles back.

his hands rest lovingly along your waist, swaying the two of you back and forth and around the room. quinn wouldn’t do this for anyone else. you had him in your grip tighter than you thought.

“you’re a good dancer,” you state, tilting your head in curiosity.

he loves the way your eyes shine under the faint light of the lamp in the room, “you’re better.”

quinn spins you around before pulling you flush against him. your chest pressed against his, breaths labored as he stops for a second to admire you.

you’re both in pajamas, and you want to think about how ridiculous this must look, but you honestly didn’t care. the way quinn was looking at you felt like you were the most beautiful woman on earth. and he believed that.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, starting to sway again, but never loosening his hold on you.

you lick your lips, eyes curious and wide, “so are you.”

quinn grins at the side of his mouth, noticing how nervous you were from the close contact. he loved how he could still bring out these kinds of reactions from you, even after being together for almost two years. he would be lying to himself if you didn’t make him react the same way. he can feel the shivers down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair in a soft, loving way.

quinn can’t stop himself from kissing you. his lips move in a languid way that makes your skin light up in a blaze. you almost feel hot, his fingers grasping at your waist with more fervor.

he loves the way you moan in his mouth, the sound vibrating through his body and making him deepen the kiss. he couldn’t resist you even if he tried.

at this point, the dancing has come to a full halt. the two of you more focused on feeling one another. you tug on his hair a bit, making him groan and pull away with wet lips.

“couldn’t resist you,” he gasps, looking at you with a goofy smile.

you giggle softly, and quinn can feel the way his heart picks up at the sound, “i couldn’t either.”

quinn could live this way forever.

love is patience.

quinn huffs as he slowly slides inside of you. and you lick your lips, looking up at him with a gorgeous glint in your eyes. it would be so romantic if only he didn’t want to completely ruin you. make a mess of your makeup.

you look at him with deer eyes, bright and wide. he lets out a small groan, eyes turning lidded at the sight of you as he bottoms out inside you. he patiently waits for you to adjust, basking in your glory. watching the way sweat starts to form on your forehead. he smiles to himself at the way he can get you so worked up with such little effort. you were truly made for him.

“tell me to move,” he says it in more of a question than a statement. you nod your head, signaling for him to move. he can’t help himself from pulling back to where only the tip of his cock sits inside you, before slamming back into you. the gasp that leaves your lips is worth it.

he sighs, leaning down to press his lips against your shoulder, earning a whine as a prize. he can hear you perfectly in this angle. your moans and gasps going straight into his ear. he closes his eyes in a flurry of bliss. the way you tighten around him as he slowly rocks his hips against your own makes him go almost mad.

he can’t stop the way his hips pick up in pace. he wants to make this last, he wants to listen to you beg for more. his prayers are answered as you whine, “quinn, please, more.” your breaths are shaky and sharp.

quinn licks his own lips, smirking to himself. “wanna make this last, baby.”

you writhe below him, making him groan as he feels the way you tighten up and take him in more. he places a hand on your hip, pushing you back down and tsking at you.

“where’s my good girl, huh?” quinn chastises, making your whines louder and louder. he soaks it in, before finally giving you what you want. he figures you’ve been patient enough. plus he was starting to lose his own patience.

he thrusts into you with feverish pace, making goosebumps form on your skin. “oh, god.”

he smiles, leaning back to look down at you and the way your eyes roll into the back of your head like you’ve seen god. he loves the way you gasp his name, telling him how good he feels. his cock twitches when you tighten up around him even more. his pace is turning brutal and he can no longer help himself.

“atta girl,” he whispers, “take it like a good girl.”

that was your undoing. you couldn’t help it. his voice was a mixture of loving and raspy. it made your inside tingle and your pussy clench around him. your back rises up to his chest as he finishes alongside you, his cum seeping inside you. you gasp one last time, out of breath.

“fuck,” quinn groans.

you smile, hands grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. “so good.”

quinn smiles in the kiss.

the patience is always worth it.

love is forgiving.

“i told you, quinn. it’s okay.” you look at him with soft eyes. quinn pouts at you.

“you said you wanted to go out to dinner tonight.” he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed.

you shake your head with a smile on your lips, “no, no. i just want to be with you.”

you and quinn had reservations but an emergency came along and he didn’t make it home in time. he was so frustrated with himself, he felt a heavy weight in his chest. that was until you came along and eased his worries.

“i promise, quinn. there are so many more dinners left in our lifetime.” you sit beside him and kiss his cheek. he looks at you with apologetic eyes before kissing you slowly and softly on the lips.

“i don’t deserve you.” he whispers against your lips before kissing you again, raising a hand to your face to pull you closer.

you smile and pull away, looking into his eyes with a sparkle, “other way around, my love.”

he shakes his head, his hair shaking with him. “hush.”

he kisses your lips again, apologies lying within them.

he could never understand how accepting and loving you always were. and little did he know, you thought the same way he did.

love is forever.

quinn rubs his sweaty hands on his pants. he feels the heavy weight of the ring in his pocket. he’s waiting for you to come home. he doesn’t want to waste time the second you walk through the door, but he knows it’s best to wait for good things to come along.

he smiles and kisses you, embracing you in a hug. you exchange the hug, hanging your purse beforehand. you smile at him, nothing out of the ordinary for you.

you look into his eyes and see the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. he looks and sees the same.

you look around and notice that dinner is already prepared for the two of you. you raise and eyebrow, “hm? dinner?”

quinn nods, licking his lips in anticipation, “yeah, thought i’d spoil you.”

you smile and kiss his cheek, “thank you, sweetie.”

he bites back a smile, but you can see it nonetheless. you walk to the table, looking at the array of food. “wow, this must have taken-”

you’re cut off when you turn around to a quinn hughes with one knee on the floor. you gasp, hand raising to your mouth. it felt like something out of a movie. your eyes were welling up with tears.

“my sweet, gorgeous girlfriend,” he starts, “this might sound so cliché, but the moment my eyes laid on your own, i knew you were going to be the one for me. i adored you the second we spoke, and fell in love the first time we kissed. i have many flaws. and i want to be able to share my future with you for the rest of our lives.” he opens the ring box, “will you marry me? make me the happiest man to ever live?”

you just nod, holding out your ring finger as you cry happy tears. you want to respond to everything he has said, but the most you can do is raise him to his feet as fast as possible and kiss him. the ring looks absolutely beautiful on you, shining under the light of the dining room lights.

“yes,” you whisper between kisses, “of course yes, quinn.”

quinn is the luckiest man alive.

quinn is ready for forever. and so are you.

a/n: so sorry for the long wait. and i’m sorry if it doesn’t live up to the anticipation. love you!

[justarandomllamacorn]

"One!" They put on their backpacks.

"Two!" He grabs his water bottle.

"Three!" The tent flap goes down behind them.

"Four!" She adjusts her cap and they walk towards the woods at the end of the camp.

"Wait I'm not ready!"

"Good grief Terry!"

" you must be kidding me!"

"It's okay, I'm here! I'm here! Five!" They take off on the path.

For an hour they kept on the path, before the captain said to take left. An hour again they walked and the terrain started shifting. The trees were denser, the grass grew more sparse and they started going up.

"One", he took a step.

"Two", the rocks rolled away beneath their feet

"Three", she spits out some dirt.

"Woah look at this mushroom! It's so tiny", came a squeal at the end of the line.

"For the love of", "Shut. Up. Terry." Interrupted the lieutenant.

"Okay, geez. Five", he said dejected.

"We were at three, not four!", groaned another.

The lieutenant stood next to the captain and they started talking. After a few minutes, the team went back on it's way, turning right at the big tree, going down 20 meters to the south and up 15 degrees to the east.

This mission was of utmost importance, shapeshifters were rumoured to roam around the camp. Some said they even tried to take away a chariot full of food no later than last week, before running off in the forest. That is why they were cavorting around in the woods, searching for a creature none of them had ever seen. Terry's couldn't help but wander on this harduous journey. The beauty of the nature surrounding them was too distracting compared to their monotonous dialogues consisting mostly of calling out your number. Terry was at the very end of the line and he had to shout "Five", right after Andy who would call out " Four" and Mhéirí who said "three" and Ryan and Mikey who were respectively two and one.

As he rounded up a tree, Terry couldn't help but notice a beautiful bird, perched on a branch above them. He turned around to tell everyone but Mikey gestured at him to be silent.

"I know", he whispered conspirationally, " this bird is beautiful. But if you want to observe it longer, you have be discreet ".

Terry thought Mikey had a nice smile. He was always gentle when he talked to him and he would sometimes share a few sweets with him.

"Although", spoke again Mikey, " I have never seen such a bird before. Especially not in the hills of the Jourdain". Slowly, he drew up his bow, when the captain turned to them. He had a grave look on his face, Terry would know because that's the face he always wears whenever he catches him doing anything. "Like he couldn't believe the extent of my clumsiness", nodded Terry sagely. But this time, the captain's look of aggravation wasn't caused by Terry. They had just received the order to go back to camp immediately.

"One!" One by one they turned around.

"Two!" Together they pulled their backpacks on.

"Three!" Mickey had gone back to the front of the line.

"Four!" Mhéirí had grabbed Andy's hand and she, in turn, extended hers to Terry.

"Five!" On the road, back again, with no thoughts of birds or trees or mushrooms.

The night was already there by the time they reached camp. The air was fresh and they could smell the roast from miles away. Yet no sooner had they broken out of the woods, that they were ambushed by shadowed figures.

"What's the meaning of this?", asked the lieutenant struggling against his bounds.

"At ease." the commander said, calmly. "One of you doesn't belong. Only five left this morning. Six have returned."

You are a soldier in a team of 6 who have been sent to investigate shapeshifter sightings, but return to base after finding nothing. On your return, however, all 6 of you are detained and your commanding officer points out that there was only 5 members of your team when you left.

[devilishchaos]

Shower | Lando Norris Imagine

Rating / genre: M (18+); smut, fluff

Pairings: Reader x Lando Norris

Summary: Y/N and Lando have soft shower sex.

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected vaginal penetration (don’t do it!!! stay safe!), hair grabbing, swallowing, use of pet names

AN: domestic Lando, because I'm a sucker for domesticity <3. also..not me and yet another shower sex fic. also pt.2..am I back? I don't know, just wanted to write about Lando. enjoy x

Word Count: 2 517 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

You had it coming for a while, you knew it in the back of your mind. And it’s not like you weren’t looking forward to it, but just that the urges, that were slowly growing stronger for Lando, inside of you took a backseat as real world deadlines threatened to overcome you.

Lando had been staying home a lot more than usual, and found himself with a rare two-week break between races, a welcome pause in the relentless pace of the Formula 1 calendar. After months of high-pressure performances and grueling travel schedules, the weariness has started to catch up with him, coupled with the need to be with you and make up for the lost time, due to his hectic schedule, caused him to not want to leave the house. 

Coming back from work every evening, you were greeted with the sight of him whipping up something simple but delicious for you to feast on, his eyes getting all crinkled up as a smile covered his face whenever he heard you yell “I'm home!”. He was playing the part of a perfect boyfriend to the T and you really couldn’t have been more thankful for everything that he was doing for you, even though you couldn’t always say it out loud. 

But behind his loving exterior was something he wasn’t really telling you, for fear of coming across as selfish when he could clearly see the amount of stress you were already in. You weren’t blind though and just like him, you too could see that he was in need of some affection and some attention, was in need of someone telling him he did well on the circuit and was still doing well at home, and you also knew you were that someone. 

You could feel it in his touch, lingering just a second longer than necessary, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your skin. You could feel it in his kisses, turning hot and fervent despite starting out as soft and gentle. You knew he needed it and you knew he wasn’t going to be explicit enough and say it out loud nor was he going to pressure you into doing something you didn’t have the energy to do. 

Yet upon hearing the slow pitter-patter of water as you came back home, you had found your feet leading you towards the bathroom, your heart picking up its pace at the thought of Lando taking a shower. The bathroom door unlocked as always, his steamy silhouette could be seen through the glass wall. You couldn’t tell what came over you in that moment, but before you could stop yourself, your hands were moving on their own, getting rid of your clothing piece by piece, until you were naked. 

Your hand came resting against the glass as you peeked inside, taking in the sight in front of you. Lando looks gorgeous, the water trickling down his body and hugging him at all the right places, his shoulders and hipbones, making you want to lick the wetness away. The sight alone is enough to make you press your legs closer together, a need growing inside of you as you take your time admiring the beauty that is your boyfriend. 

Lando had his head under the water, his wet curls sticking to his forehead and the side of his face, his mouth slightly parted to let the warm water hit his tongue as he was lost in thought. And to say that he was beyond surprised when he opened his eyes and found you on the other side of the glass, naked and looking nothing but breathtaking to him, would be an understatement. A groan escapes his lips under his breath as he stares at you, his eyes trailing down, taking in your completely naked body and swallowing thickly, a hunger rising in him, just looking at you.

That is, until a voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting Lando’s as he calls you out. 

“Baby?” He murmurs, his voice sounding low as the water still hitting his face causes his words to come out muffled, but you could still hear that his tone was filled with need and anticipation. His left hand moves from where it was against the wall to press against the glass, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a silent conversation happening between you within just that moment, his eyes full of want, making his desire for you clear.

"I'm home" you say in a soft murmur.

“Yeah I can see that..” Lando mutters, his eyes still glued to you through the glass, his mouth going dry as his eyes rake you up and down, taking in every inch of you as if it was the first time he was seeing you like that. He was trying to focus hard on not letting his eyes linger between your legs, because the thought of it already has his brain short circuit.

“You want to join me in here?” He questions, his fingers tapping the glass lightly, giving a small smirk.

Lando can’t fight the grin that appears on his face as you nod, his mind already racing over what the two of you would do. He grabs the shower glass and pushes it open, his arms spreading out towards you as a silent invitation for you to come inside. He can’t wait to touch you again, to feel your skin against his, to hear your soft moans, but even amidst all of that he still has a tiny voice inside his head reminding him that you’re probably tired.

Lando closes the glass door back when you make your way inside, and all it takes is a couple of seconds for him to pull you into his chest against his wet, warm body, his strong arms wrapping around you gently. He lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he buries his face into your neck, the stress melting away from him just from having you close. His hands move up and down against your wet back, the water trickling between you.

He can tell what you’re planning and while it is something he’s been craving all these past days or weeks, now that you were right in front of him, he feels as if just having you so close to him is enough. And so he decides to show you, placing the softest of kisses to your crown as his grip tightens around your waist, the sensation making you lift your head up from his chest, a smile on your face. 

“You are so beautiful.” Lando whispers and that’s all you need to lose your footing. 

Before either of you can realize, your lips are moving in sync with his, a rhythm both familiar and new, being set up as you dance around your desires. You don’t know who started it, but it’s not like it matters anyway. All you can think of in that moment is the way his tongue explores every inch of your mouth, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you get lost in the love only he can give you. And it’s the same for Lando, his senses getting overwhelmed as he finds himself getting high on you, on the way you make him feel. You’re all he could ever want and more, and every time you touch him, it feels like you’re reminding him of the reason he’s alive. 

So he takes it in his stride, finally letting go of his fears and his worries, completely losing himself in you, in the love he feels for you. His hands roam all over your water-covered body, from your cheeks to your neck to your breasts and hips, and he takes his sweet time caressing and feeling every single one of them, just like you do too, your own hands lying pressed flat against his toned body. You touch him everywhere, letting your focus shift from his hair to his biceps to the round cheeks of his ass, and as you do so, you also find yourself pulling away from his lips, kissing down his body, crouching lower and lower till you’re on your knees in front of him. 

The sight makes something turn on inside of Lando’s brain, his hands making their way to your cheeks again. But this time, he’s just a little more assertive, pulling you closer to his crotch, because he can tell you already have eyes for his cock. 

“Want a taste?” he asks, his voice hoarse already and a lazy smirk playing on his lips. You can only nod at that, biting your lip as you lean in, placing a kiss to his tip. And from the sigh that escapes from Lando’s mouth at the small gesture, you know it’s just like the first time for him, over and over again. 

“Then suck on it, baby.” his voice calls out again, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

With that, your hands are quick to get wrapped around his shaft as you take him into your mouth, making him throw his head back in the slightest of pleasure. As your tongue begins to roll around his head, you make sure to savor the heavenly taste of his finest delicacy, your teeth grazing against his flesh as you decide to make up for the time and the rounds you’ve lost out on. 

His tip was already leaking, his body eagerly reacting to your touch, the anticipation building within him. He swallowed, his words caught in his throat, all he could do was let out a groan in response. His hips instinctively moved forward, pushing his cock further into your mouth, his body seeking more pleasure, more of you. He was powerless to the sensations coursing through him, every swipe of your tongue sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

"More," he found himself whispering, his voice rough "I want you to swirl your tongue around the tip, take it into your mouth, then-" he whispered, his eyes flicking down to you, the intensity in his gaze burning with need "Push your tongue into the slit, please.” 

Lando's body tensed, a low groan escaping him as you did as he asked, his eyes falling shut, his face flushed, his jaw clenched in an effort to hold back.

"Good girl," he groaned, his words husky, his voice filled with appreciation and a hint of dominance. 

Lando's eyes fluttered shut, a low moan escaping him as your free hand found his balls. His body tensed, his fingers gripping your hair a little tighter, his hips instinctively pushing forward in a shallow thrust.

"That's right," he growled, his voice filled with need, his words a husky rasp as he tried to control himself, his body trembling. 

As you pick up the pace, your surroundings fade away, the sound of the water acting as background music while you continue to give head to Lando, enjoying the effect you have on him. His hands guide you along, resting at your head, as your own take to worship his cock, your cheeks hollowed out to the max. Maybe it’s the lack of touch that he’s been forced to go through for the past weeks, or maybe it’s the way you seem so determined on bringing him to his knees, but Lando can’t seem to control the urge to cum right then and there, his body involuntarily thrusting his dick right down your throat and making you choke. 

“Go faster, please.” he groans, pretty sounds emanating from deep inside his chest as you oblige, going faster and harder as you begin deepthroating him. Countdown from ten in your head and that’s all you need to have him lose it, his seed seeping into your mouth as you lap every bit up. He tastes just as you remember or maybe even better because it’s been so long. As the last drops trickle down your throat, you let out a sigh of satisfaction, licking your lips before gripping his thighs to pull yourself back up. 

Your eyes meet his and you don’t miss the way he smiles at you, and you can’t help but ask, “Was I good?” and make him chuckle at your cuteness. 

“Incredible as always, love.” Lando says, leaning in to catch your lips in another kiss, his body weight pushing you flat against the glass wall. Maybe it’s you imagining things, but he somehow tastes even sweeter now, the aftertaste of his cum still fresh on your tongue as you make out with him once more. Parting your mouth open with his own tongue, he doesn’t leave a single spot untouched as his cock prods around your heat, silently seeking entrance. 

And you’re only too keen on granting him that, a whimper making its way out of you as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than closer. 

“I n- need you..” you whine, kissing him harder as you feel yourself grow more needy by the second. Lucky for you though, your boyfriend is a great listener, listening to your demand as he thrusts himself into you, penetrating into your pussy at long last. He feels so delicious like that, moving in and out of you as your thighs squeeze around his, your walls tightening around his length as he fills you up with himself. 

You’re a moaning, struggling mess within seconds, the water making everything foggy and slippery as he continues to thrust in you, massaging all the right places you didn’t even know existed inside of you up until you started dating. Every move of his hips, as they roll against yours, sends you into a frenzy, gibberish rolling off your tongue as he starts speeding up more and more. Your bodies mold into one as you claw at each other’s skin, wanting to be as close to the other as possible. You’re in bliss at that moment, the pent up stress from work and the sexual frustration finally coming to the fore and bursting like a bubble as you make love. 

He cums first, his cock still sensitive from your lip-service as his load fills you up to the brim, his thrusts not stopping as he leads you to your own orgasm. It feels like an eternity and like a single second at the same time, your sense of being completely distorted as you focus only on the pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as he pumps into you one last time, making you ride out your climax in style and leaving you panting for air. 

As a new slew of moans racks through your body, he vows to drown them out in a kiss with his hands holding you in place. When he pulls away, the expression on his face is the most lovesick one you’ve ever seen. 

“Thank you.” is all he says, but it’s enough to fill your heart up with warmth as he pulls away, ready to dry you up and lead you to the bed for another round.

[shoukokus]

Beautiful day/night (or afternoon) may I request how the overblot characters in twisted wonderland would react to s/o culture clothing? (For example: spanish people have those beautiful colorful traditional spanish dress)

I tried not to make it too specific, so as to not exclude anyone!

Riddle Rosehearts

He firsts sees your cultural clothing while attending a ball in his hometown

It was just for a couple of days, and everyone in Heartslyabul was invited, Deuce, Trey, and Cater were there too. Ace didn't want to go to a stupid event

It took you all day to get ready, and Riddle was beyond curious why you were being so secretive

But when you finally came down the stairs, your stunning garb on display, Riddle knew it was worth the wait

When you explain the significance of your outfit, he's very touched

You waited all this time to wear something so important to you, for an event important to Riddle? Someone hold him, he's about to start crying in the ballroom

Leona Kingscholar

When his family invited him home for a long weekend, the only thing that would make it tolerable would be your presence

He said something about some fancy dinner party really offhandedly, and you came up with an idea to make even THAT fun for Leona Kingscholar

Outside of your room in his palace, he waits for you, tugging at the tie you gave him for some reason

When you come out, ready for the dinner, it all clicks into place. His tie matches your outfit and its colors. But more than that? You look incredible

He smirks as he twirls you around a little, eyeing all the details and any skin that's showing....

You tell him that you wanted to make a good impression, to be proud of your history and culture like his family is... Well, let's just say he's thinking about how to mix those two cultures

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had potential investors coming to visit, and he was unbelievably nervous the night before

He was pacing, and triple checking all his accounts and even the freshly pressed suit laid out

He reminded you multiple times to have your own outfit ready, and you would assure him every time, don't worry... you got this

When Floyd and Jade escort you into his office a few hours before the event, he looks up and nearly breaks his pen in half

You look incredible! He stands and sputters as he compliments you. How did he get so lucky?! Where were you hiding this? It looks amazing on you and perfectly goes with your features

When you tell him the significance, he starts tearing up. He hugs you, whispering how much he appreciates you and the mindfulness you always give him

Jamil Viper

You and Jamil are having a cozy night in when the topic of cultures came up

With your full attention, Jamil tells you about the Scalding Sands and the society he grew up in

When the topic of clothes come up, you get excited, an opportunity presenting itself

You tell him to wait for just a little bit as you run to your room. He waits curiously until you finally come back

Your attire has been changed and Jamil is stunned. You look amazing!

He watches you with loving, soft eyes as you explain all the details of the outfit and what they mean

Vil Schoenheit

It was the first major event that Vil had invited you too, and the desperation to make it a good experience was palpable

A simple luncheon was surely like the jungle in Vil's world... but he was insistent that you could wear something simple yet elegant

With your cultural clothing, you decided to take the chance

Of course you would need Vil's approval so you invited him over the day before

When he enters your room and sees you inspecting yourself in the mirror, he's immediately entranced. What wonderful colors on you, how it works with your figure and features...

Telling him that it's from your culture, he's not surprised. Of course it would look perfect on you! With a kiss on the head, it is officially Vil approved

Idia Shroud

Idia finally wants to take your relationship to the next level... By showing off his costume collection!!

He has outfits from all sorts of different shows, movies, and games. It may seem silly, but they're very important to him

So the next day, you decide to reciprocate in a similar way

You invite him over for the usual game and snack night, but when he opens the door, he's greeted by you in a new, brilliant outfit

He thinks it's amazing, but is unclear on what it means. When you explain that you wanted to show him care in your own way, his hair turns a light pink

You.. showed him your important clothes in response to his important clothes? Yeah, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had just bought you a ton of new clothes. It's not unusual for him to go buying up things for you when the impulse strikes

This time he had been thinking about how wonderful you'd look in some traditional Briar Valley clothing, and then... nine outfits happened

When it all arrives, an impromptu fashion starts as you try everything on to test sizes and styles

He's helping you sort through everything and hang things up when he spots an outfit he's never seen before

You tell him that it's the only change of clothes you came to Twisted Wonderland with, that it was important to your culture and meant a lot, but just hadn't the time or reason to wear it

Immediately demands to see it, and you agree. When you come out looking like the sun itself, he pulls you close and promises to keep your heritage alive and well

Requests are open!

[thechaoticcherub]

Cherub

Pairing: Priest!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Reader is a student teacher at the Catholic nursery school attached to the church she attended growing up. While becoming disillusioned with being a teacher she runs into the church's priest that she has known since he taught her confirmation classes.

Warnings: 18+ please, large age gap, power dynamics, dubcon(?), priests, catholicism, lots of religious imagery, i mean i am GOING TO HELL, blatant blasphemy, violation of holy spaces, joel is a PERVERT, some mentions of him being interested in reader as a underage teenager(no actual underage anything), masturbation, sexual shame, humiliation, embarrassment, innocence kink, virgin reader, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, light choking(not even really choking), rough sex, pussy pronouns, no use of y/n, religious trauma, i really gotta underscore how much I violate holy things from christianity, smoking, cigarettes, cum play, lots of pet names, no daddy kink but lots of calling him Father

Notes: Okay please bless me lord for I have SINNED. this is FILTH even thought there isn't like constant smut it might be the dirtiest thing i've written? I'm so sorry to Catholics everywhere. And I'm sorry if I fucked up terminology. I tried to do lots of research but you know, liturgical shit is hard to understand. also yeah, i get how much this is more writer insert than reader considering the title. Ahem. I'm sorry this is again not really edited or beta read. sorry. Well I hope you enjoy!

OH! also: I have a playlist for this if anyone would be interested, let me know!

Word Count: 6.4 K

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It had been a long week at Holy Trinity Catholic Nursery School and you were exhausted, when you had first started your student teaching unit you had been beyond excited to be back at the church you grew up going to. You were familiar with the facilities including the big, beautiful sanctuary and the priest who still presided over the Parish was the priest who had done confirmation with you. Father Joel Miller had always been a slightly off-beat, interesting, yet intimidating choice for priest of a Catholic church. He was known for smoking Marlboro Reds in his office, having a scruffy unshaven face, giving short homilies in his gruff Texan accent and seeming more like a cowboy than a priest. 

There was something about him though that had always sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver, or something sinister. He was handsome, that was a known fact around the church when you were growing up, the other girls in your confirmation class giggled about it and  even now your co-workers at the nursery school often made jokes or teasing comments to each other. He had to be in his mid-fifties now with greying stubble and hair and lines around his eyes and forehead but yes, you did still find him attractive, but it didn’t shake the sense that your tingling sense of something might not have been entirely positive. 

Maybe it was the simple fact that his eyes always had lingered on you for longer than you felt necessary. Even when you were a young teenager in his confirmation classes, learning prayers, handing in your sermon notes, sitting in mass every Sunday, you felt his eyes on you. You never understood what it was about you that made him look for so long but he had. Now that you were working on becoming a teacher like you had always hoped, you found that when he came to visit the classrooms, he spent his time asking you questions about the classroom instead of the lead teachers. That was easy to brush off as maybe he felt like he was helping you learn, but when you brought the children to the main church for their daily prayers his eyes would spark on you and he would come to you first when he gave a blessing to everyone. His hand resting on your forehead as he spoke his short blessing before drawing the sign of the cross on your forehead with his thumb, his eyes stuck on yours as if he would never look away. Eventually he always did, moving on to each individual child and adult from your classroom, but he didn’t linger with any of them the way he lingered with you. 

Now, as the day was coming to a close you had snuck away from the classroom to try and escape the exhaustion that was working with children day in and day out. You had always wanted to be a Nursery school teacher but now that you were experiencing a classroom you understood why burnout was so common. You had made up a bad excuse and snuck down the cool hallway, away from the school portion of the building,  to the candle lit nave, you weaved your way through the pews over to the side aisle lined with stone arches. You took a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of the cutesy dress you wore because of your ridiculous desire to be the next Ms Frizzle. In your opinion, just under the arches to the side of the pews was the best place to sneak away to and smoke without being in too much danger of being caught. The incense that was regularly burned covered up most of the smell, you could enjoy the view of the sanctuary and the altar while you smoked and it was usually deserted. You tucked yourself under one of the arches, your back pressed into the cool stone and lit up. Taking a long inhale you relished in the fact that you weren’t surrounded by screaming preschoolers. It was allowing yourself these couple minutes away from the chaos of the end of the day that made this week bearable. You smoked and tapped the ash off onto the stone floor, rubbing it into the cracks with your foot as you went. 

“You ain’t sposed to be smokin’ in here, young lady.” The voice came from a few yards away by the priest’s door that opened into the sanctuary by the altar, you jumped and turned to face the man whose voice it was. Father Miller was watching you as he walked across the sanctuary, first past the altar and then the pulpit and down through the central gap between the altar rails. You felt frozen in place, you had smoked here multiple times and no one had ever come in and of course now, it was Father Miller who had found you here. He stood in front of the first pew and crossed his arms over his chest, still watching you. 

“Shit,” you said, unsure of what to do with the lit cigarette. Usually when you were done smoking you’d put it out on the floor and rub out the mark and shove the butt into the pack to get rid of later. Now he was there and the smoke from your cigarette filtered up above you, curling against the stone arch and then dispersing. 

“Got a fresh mouth on you too,” He added with a laugh. “Never knew that about you before,” he crossed in front of the pew, walking towards you. You felt like a small animal caught in a trap and he was some kind of giant predator stalking towards you. He was wearing all black, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his clerical collar was bright white against the black of the shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Father, I…didn’t think-” You broke off because really you didn’t think you would be caught, not that you didn’t think it would be a problem or anything. Joel’s eyes widened a little as he waited for you to finish your sentence, he turned at the end of the pew to walk along the side aisle to the first arch where you were still trapped. His finger grazed alone the  wood of the pew, 

“You didn’t think…?” He prompted when your voice faltered. You shrugged, 

“I don’t have an excuse, Father.” You admitted. Father Miller walked right up to you in your alcove that you thought would be so secret and stood in front of you. You remembered how intimidated by him you had always been, suddenly you felt fifteen again, having to recite scripture and prayers correctly in your weekly confirmation classes. Your heart thudded in your chest as he looked down at you, he was tall, broad and as he stood so close to you, popping any sort of personal space bubble you thought you had, you realized you could smell him. Tobacco, cool mint, fresh sweat and then underneath it all, an acrid heat, almost metallic. It mingled into something not unpleasant but it did mean he was too close. 

“Go ahead and smoke that, kid.” Joel’s eyes moved from yours down towards the cigarette dangling in your fingers and he nodded slowly, encouraging you. 

“I-I shouldn’t…” You stuttered, still looking up at him, almost transfixed on his face, still frozen there half with fear, half just trapped in his gaze. 

“No, you shouldn’t…but you already are, cherub, may as well finish.” Joel said and you watched as a sly smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. Cherub. Not typically did a priest use any sort of nickname for a parishioner, let alone a pet name like that. If anything they would say “my child” if in confession. Cherub sent that familiar shiver down your spine, a memory surfaced of that word on his lips years before. It had been to you then too,

“Say a hail mary and you will be absolved, cherub.” You must have confessed something to him or done something wrong in class.  Your heart sped at the memory and your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was telling you to smoke, daring you to and there was no reason not to anymore. It wasn’t like he didn’t smoke in the church, Mr. Marlboro Reds in his office. So you held his gaze as best you could and lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. You blew the smoke away from him and he watched you, like he had so many times before. 

“Aint you supposed to be with the kids?” He asked, still standing to close, his scent still wafting over you, still just watching you smoke. 

“Yes,” You said softly, “But I needed…a minute away,” You didn’t even want to admit how much you needed to get away from your job, your responsibilities but the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. You hurriedly brought the cigarette up to your lips again, as if to silence yourself.

“A minute away…” Joel repeated, “To pray?” He asked, his voice mocked you because even though you were in the church, you weren’t lighting a candle or on your knees asking for peace. You were smoking and feeling bad for yourself. You started to shake your head, the cigarette dangling from your lips now, before you could even complete the motion his hand was on your chin, halting your movement.  His thick thumb dug into one side of your jaw, his pointer finger curled down the other side. Breath, and all thought was knocked out of you. All you could do was look up at the chiseled face above you.  There was grey in the scruff on his cheeks and peppering his mustache and  his chin was tilted up as his eyes looked down on you, examining your face. The old priest shouldn’t have been touching you like this, you knew that but your feet wouldn’t work, your stomach twisted and the shiver running up and down your spine still couldn’t make up its mind about whether it was a good shiver or a bad shiver. “I think you need’ta get on your knees to pray more often,” his voice had lowered slightly but the gruff resonance in it was enough to shake you. You thought for a half second he was about to force your to your knees now but instead he reached up with his other hand and plucked the dangling cigarette from your lips. He put it into his mouth, inhaled and then removed it, taking a step away from you,

“Thanks, cherub.” he said and then he turned on his  nice leather shoes and walked back up through the pews. 

+

You didn’t return to the church to smoke again. You did tell yourself you would go to mass more often. The thoughts you were having about that evening were completely unholy, and you needed to force them out of your mind. You needed to take the Eucharist and try and heal yourself from these sins of the flesh. For the first time in a long time you had been tempted, really tempted to do something you knew was wrong. When you were young you had touched yourself plenty but as you got older you became more and more disgusted by your actions and resisted it, knowing self love was sinful, but that interaction with Father Joel Miller had you thinking things that made your body heat up. The crawling shiver up your spine had been a warning, a warning about feelings that had bubbled up in your tummy and how it would be so easy for those feelings, those desires, wants, needs to take over. It was your own dirty mind that was allowing you to believe it was because of Father Joel looking at you that you got that creeping sensation. He was a priest, a little bit of an unorthodox priest, but a priest nonetheless and you were allowing dirty thoughts to change your opinion of him. So going to mass was a good idea. 

You didn’t allow yourself to look at Father Miller during the service on Sunday, but his gruff voice speaking his homily reminded you vividly of the way he said “cherub”. The way he had told you that you needed to “get on your knees to pray.” You could barely pay attention to his words because simply his voice, that resounding, husky voice did something to you and warmth pooled deep in your belly. It felt like there was a persistent drip of warmth sliding lower down, lower to that place that remained mostly unexplored by you, by anyone. All because of his voice.

You felt like it vibrated through the floor of the church and up into your pew, making you pulse with your disgusting desires.

You kept your eyes down, on your hymnal, refusing to look up at Father Miller because there was a quiet part of you, in the back of your mind, that told you if you looked at him, you’d be meeting his gaze. That would do absolutely nothing to help control that heat that was pooling inside of you. 

When you stood to go to the altar rails and receive the eucharist your legs were wobbly, damn this weakness. There was no reason to sexualize Father Miller’s kindness to you. He hadn’t gotten you in trouble for smoking in the church and in return you were allowing these debased thoughts to happen to you in church on your way to receive the very body and blood of Christ. While you walked up the aisle, the crucifix directly in front of you, a statue of the Virgin Mary staring into your soul, you could feel that drip of heat wetting your underwear. You tried your hardest to tell yourself it was nothing, it was just natural discharge, not what you knew it to be, your body’s reaction to Father Miller’s voice as he spoke holy words, prayers and talked of repentance during his Homily.

At the altar rail you knelt down on the cushion and clasped your hands in front of you to pray while you waited for your turn to receive communion.  You knew you would have to look at Father Miller while he gave you the body of Christ but you were scared, you had forced yourself to avoid looking at him all throughout mass, you hadn’t met his gaze when you knew he was looking at you and you told yourself time and time again that his gaze meant nothing. But your attempts to curb your desires had been in vain something about his voice, about the memories of his hand on your chin, his body so close to you, his smell had caused you to leak arousal into your underwear. Your labia felt swollen against the tight cotton and you were ashamed to be kneeling in church like this, your face was burning much like you would be if you were to be struck down dead right now. You could hear him approaching, speaking to each parishioner as he placed the body of Christ on their tongue and blessed them. You would have to look up at him shortly, your eyes would have to meet his, you would have to take in that face that had been haunting you while he spoke his blessing to you. He was on the person to your right and now was the time to tilt your head up, you almost didn’t but as he moved over, you knew your place as a good Catholic and you looked up at your priest. 

He was just as entrancing as he always had been, in off white vestments with gold stitching, his greying hair pushed back away from his face, a little long in the back, curling around his neck and his eyes, dark and hungry, staring down at you. Your vagina clenched around nothing and you burned with shame and the memory of his big hand at your chin and jaw. 

Your eyes locked onto his and his gaze held yours, refusing to let you go, there was no choice in the matter, you would gaze up into his eyes until the end of time if he wanted it. He held the body of Christ out to you, your head upturned. At the time you didn’t understand just how reverent you looked, all you could think of was him and the vague worry that your juices might have been dripping down your leg. 

“The body of Christ,” Father Miller’s voice changed ever so slightly when he spoke the words to you. You had been listening the whole time you had been kneeling and now his voice had lost the monotone pitch he had had. There was a lilt in his voice that was only for you. 

“Amen,” You said, you opened your mouth, your tongue very slightly pushed out, resting on the edge of your bottom lip, your eyes still captured in his gaze. Something blazed there, behind his eyes and despite the heat in your cheeks and the heat that was making your wet and swollen vulva pulse with a need you had never felt before, that familiar shiver crawled up your spine. Joel placed the body of Christ on your tongue and maybe you imagined it, maybe it was a split second that felt like it stretched into eternity but you could have sworn the tip of his finger grazed the side of your tongue as he took his hand away. That tiniest touch of his thick, calloused finger against an intimate and sensitive part of yourself made your brow briefly furrow and that deep clench of your sex to take over your body again. You closed your mouth around the wafer that you believed to be the actual flesh of your Savior and your gaze remained on the man granting you that sacrament. You watched his lip twitch ever so slightly as, without taking those dark, burning brown eyes form yours, he took the chalice he was handed and held it before you. 

“The blood of Christ,” he said, you could hear that lilt again, like he was mocking not only you but God himself as he held that chalice out. 

“Amen,” you said and he brought the chalice to your mouth, tilting it back while cupping his hand under your chin in case it spilled over. The proximity of his hand to your chin buzzed something in you. Your eyes remained on him and his eyebrows raised slightly as he fed you the Blood of Christ. When he removed the chalice from your lips, a droplet of the wine dribbled out of the corner of your mouth. You were about to reach up and wipe it when his thumb beat you to it. In one quick motion, he swiped it away, the calloused thumb leaving a trail of heat on your face. You felt him tear his eyes away from you like a punch to the gut and you knew you had to continue on. You made the sign of the cross on yourself, collected every ounce of strength you had and got up from the altar rail. You could feel your slick soaking your underwear, and wetting your thighs as you walked. You knew you had to beg for forgiveness and the only place to do that was Confession. 

+

You knew you had to confess. You hadn’t been able to resist your carnal desires, once you had returned to your apartment after mass on Sunday you had tried your hardest to relieve that mounting pressure between your thighs. You had delicately stroked your folds and experimented with pace and tried to find a rhythm that would relieve you but as if as punishment, you couldn’t. Now, you needed to confess and to make matters worse, the only person you could confess to was Father Miller. You came to confession on a Friday night after school had let out. The hours for confession were set and you knew he would be in the confessional, waiting for perishoners.

Friday was usually silent at the church, the staff had left for the weekend and most people didn’t confess on a Friday. You walked into the church  and down the side aisle to where the confessional was. It was tucked into the side aisle just in front of the very altar rail you had knelt at and drenched your underwear earlier in the week. Your cheeks were bright red as you stepped into the booth and knelt down in front of the partition, there was a screen between you and him but you knew he was there. The smell of him lingered all around you. Tobacco, mint and the acrid metallic scent…what could that be? If you had to guess you’d say gunpowder but that made no sense to you. Your body reacted to his scent as if you were being touched by him again, your body clenched and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was…” You actually had to think about it for a moment, you had confessed at your church in college but that was over a year ago…was that the last time you had confessed? “Over a year ago,” You mumbled. You paused, unsure if you should just start or if he would say something else. 

“What are your sins, Cherub?” He knew it was you. He’d never say that to someone else. It would have been, “My child”. But no, cherub. You were taken aback by this breach in protocol and you didn’t speak for so long he cleared his throat, “We ain’t gettin’ any younger.” He said. “And your sins aint any closer to absolved,” You needed to speak and speak now, to get all this off of your chest so you could lay it to rest and forget it. 

“I’ve…been plagued with unholy desires, Father.” You said. You could hear him shift in the box next to you and you leaned your head forward, your forehead pressed to the screen separating you. “I’ve been having these intense…” Embarrassment made your cheeks flush, you fiddled with the hem of the skirt you wore today and you knew you had to keep going, “Sexual fantasies,” You blurted it out and you heard him let out a long, slow breath. “I can’t stop them but the thoughts are so intense…and wrong,” You said. You listened to his breathing while your own breathing quickened because the heady scent of him was doing something to you again. Your knees were aching from where they were pressed into the kneeler and your whole body felt tight and tense. 

“You been actin’ on these…fantasies?” He asked. Acting on them? Did an aborted masturbation attempt count as acting on them? In the eyes of the Lord, yes. You needed to admit it to him. 

“Yes, Father…I…I believe I have.” You said it even as you could feel that blooming, dripping heat fill your belly. 

“You believe you have, huh?” He asked, that mocking lilt colored his voice and another shiver crawled up your spine. While the shiver might have been caused by something unholy, it certainly was a good shiver. 

“I’ve touched myself because of these fantasies,” You admitted softly, your fingers still twisting the end of your skirt. “I was never able to…finish but it’s still a sin.” You told him taking a deep breath through your nose, you wondered if he was leaning in towards the screen too. You pulled your head back to look,  you could see bits of him through the latticed wood that created the screen that was supposedly there to protect anonymity.  

“Yea, Cherub, it sure is a sin.” He spoke and the words, his voice was like an injection of heat straight to your core. You had already practically leaked all over the altar rails at communion but now you were going to drip down your thighs in confession. “And I know what your penance should be,” he said. You let out a relieved breath, maybe if you did the penance you would be absolved and God would take the lust from your body. 

“Yes, Father. What should I do?” You asked. You heard Joel lean forward now, his voice was closer to the screen and the seat he was on creaked slightly. 

“You gotta reach your fingers under your skirt and touch yourself again, right here, right now.” His low voice sounded even more gravely than usual and the words burned through you. 

“F-Father?” You questioned, unsure if this could be possible. Your brain was already addled with lust, and this felt wrong but the temptation was so strong. 

“The only way we can absolve you of these sins is to complete them.” He insisted and you knew how wrong he was. Those shivers you felt were warnings of him. But how could you resist this? His voice was like a drug and that scent and the way you remembered the feeling of his fingers on your jaw, the pad of his thumb on your chin at communion, the ridge of his finger on the side of your tongue. “I want you to tell me just how wet you are, kneeling there before God,” Joel’s voice came to you through your lust filled fog and before you could think further you reached your hand up under your skirt and into your underwear. Your fingers immediately slipped over your soaked lips and you let out a gasp at the realization you had been soaking your underwear during the entirety of the confession. 

“Father, it’s…so wet.” You gasped, you heard movement again from his side of the confessional, the rustle of clothing and maybe the clinking of a belt being adjusted. 

“Get those knees nice and wide and stroke your lips for me,” Father Miller said, and you knew he was close to you leaned into the wood lattice screen. You could practically feel his breath. You did as you were told, kneeling a little wider and stroking your lips. You let out a squeak of pleasure, “Nice n’ slow, darlin’” His voice floated through the screen and your fingers slowly, painfully slow stroked along your puffy lips. 

“Oh God,” The words were ripped from you as the tips of your delicate fingers grazed your clitorus and your whole body throbbed. 

“Jus’ your lips, pretty girl, don’t touch that clit of yours.” The filth words coming from your priest's mouth only spurred you on. You wanted to ignore him and touch your clit again, but how had he known you had touched it in the first place? “Stroke down to your hole, cherub,” it was horribly disgusting and lewd to hear him talk like that but it still stoked a terrible fire inside you. You reached your hand farther down, sinking your butt back towards your feet as you knelt. Your finger found your entrance, the source of your wetness and you found yourself longing to push your finger into yourself. As if he heard your very thought Joel chuckled,

“Dont even think about fingerin’ yourself, little girl.” He said. A moan of desperation that matched any of the vulgarity he had spewed to you fell from your lips. “Tell me, cherub, is that a virgin cunt you’ve got over there? Or is there somethin’ else you need to be confessin’ to your Father?” he asked. Your fingers were tracing a circle around your soaked hole, trying to listen to him and not let your finger enter your body. 

“I’m a virgin, Father. Please…” You didn’t know what you were asking for with that please but it felt appropriate. Once you said that, there was a rush of movement and then the door to your side of the confessional was thrown open and Father Miller stood in front of you. You nearly toppled over from where you were kneeling, your hand still shoved into  your underwear.  He made a tsking sound, 

“Oh my little Virgin Mary,” his voice crawled up your spine like the shiver. “I’ve always known you were my good girl,” He reached down to where you were kneeling and wrapped his arm around your upper arm, pulling you up to stand. You gasped and he pulled you out of the confessional, his body moving your weight like it was nothing. His hand tightened on your arm as he pulled you into his body and then it dropped to around your waist and his mouth was on yours, kissing you. It was anything but a chaste kiss, his tongue lavished your mouth, circling yours while his arms wrapped around your waist keeping you locked against his broad, strong body.  When he pulled away from you, you were gasping for breath and he let out a dark chuckle

“Oh, I am going to eat you up, Cherub.” It was a threat, but it made you pulse with need. Joel took your upper arms in his hands again, fingers digging in, “Let’s pray,” he said and he started to pull you over a few feet to the altar rail. In a sharp movement he pushed you down, bent at the waist over the rail, your feet pressed into the kneeler, you squealed in surprise, 

“Father!” You managed to squeak out.

“Let’s see this pretty cunt that’s causin’ you such problems, sweetheart.” Joel growled and with one hand shoved your skirt up and then ripped your undies down, exposing your soaked pussy to him. You whimper in shame and embarrassment. You were so close to the holy altar, staring up at the crucifix while your most private part was exposed to Father Joel Miller. He let out a laugh, as his hand came up to your ass, he grabbed the meat of it, digging his fingers in and spreading it enough to expose more of your pussy to him. 

“Ohhh there she is,” He breathed, he let out a low whistle, “So swollen, so wet.” The fingers of his other hand stroked down your wet lips and in response you spread your legs a little more. “Is that what you want, Cherub?” he asked. You nodded vigorously, completely lost in lust. Joel stroked along your lips up to your clit and he started to flick slow circles around it. Your moans started to echo as he worked you up. “That’s it, enjoy that sin, darlin,” he breathed, leaning over your back to whisper into your ear. You could feel his black button up pressed into your back while his fingers continued to circle around your clit, sending burning pleasure coursing through you. 

“P-please!” You begged, letting yourself go completely to the need for more. “God! Please!” You cried. 

“Please, what?” Joel asked into your ear, you could feel his stubble and mustache against your ear. His scent washed over you, intoxicating you further. 

“Please, I want you inside of me, Father!” You cried, you hadn’t even realized that was what you would say when you opened your mouth but it came tumbling out anyway. His fingers moved from your clit to your entrance where you were clenching on nothing, your cunt was begging for it regardless of what you said. His middle finger circled around your hole, not entering you but noticing how tight you were. Joel pulled back enough to look down at your pussy again, 

“You want me inside of your virgin pussy?” He asked, You nodded before letting your head hang down in shame, the shame of how much you needed it and how much you were willing to sacrifice for it. The temptation of him had been too much. You could feel his eyes on your fluttering sex while he started to ease his finger inside of you. He rocked his finger inside of you and you pressed yourself back against him. 

“Oh cherub, I can see that you’re a virgin.” He said, those greedy, dark eyes on you, still, even now, sending shivers up your spine. His finger had barely made it halfway inside of you when he tugged his finger away. You gasped at the loss and pressed yourself back towards him. 

“Father! No! Please!” You whined, wiggling your hips. 

“If your virginity is gunna be mine, I sure as hell am gunna take it with my cock.” Joel’s molten voice sizzled inside of you and the realization washed over you that you weren’t going to try to stop him, and you were about to be filled with his cock right here in the middle of the church. You heard the buckle of his belt and the shift of clothes, still leaned over the altar railing, legs spread wide, ready to for him to fully know you. 

Joel watched your pussy as he notched his thick cock against your hole, your inner lips were parting for him waiting for your cunt to accept him. 

“Joel,” you gasped his name for the first time as you fully understood what was about to happen. “Is it going to hurt?”You asked. 

“Well it ain’t goin’ to be a walk in the park at first, Cherub.” He said, and you could feel how thick his cock head felt at your entrance“But I think she’ll open up for me,” his voice had that mocking lilt to it again. Before you could say anything else he had started to push into you and the stretch was so much that the breath was completely knocked out of you. You lurched forward as his hips rocked into you. 

“Oh, that looks so good…pretty cunt splittin’ open for me.” He said and you knew he was watching the place where your bodies connected. He pressed himself forward again, forcing his way inside of you, making a spot for his thick cock in your tight hole. You let out a whine and he gripped your hips tugging you back more. “Atta girl, you’re takin’ my cock so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asked and all you could manage was a garbled moan in response. It did hurt some as he continued to ease himself in inch by thick inch but you were also completely drenched with slick that it was decently quick work to ease you open. 

“Father! Oh, its…so big!” You pressed your hips back, hoping to open yourself more to him. When he was fully sheathed inside of you, he was still for so long that you felt like you might go crazy with the need for friction. “Please…father…fuck me.” You gasped and that seemed to spur Joel on, he started to pull his cock back before shoving it back in, setting a brutal pace. Joels breath started to grow ragged with his own pleasure,

“Is that what you want, little girl?” He asked as his hips snapped forward to fill you over and over. “You want my cock to fuck you?” He asked. You nodded, still dazed. 

“I wanna hear you, Cherub. Confess to me, what do you want?” Joel bent forward over you, one hand snaking around you and grabbing your throat , fingers pressing into your jaw.  You moaned, unable to form a proper sentence as he pulled you back by your neck, making you look up at the altar in front of you. “Come on, let‘s hear that confession,” he said as his cock ruthlessly pummeled against your cervix, splitting you open more and more with each thrust. His other hand, the one not forcing you to look at the image of your savior, trailed down your belly and underneath your skirt. His middle finger found your clit, stroking it in those quick, flicking circles. Your body tensed against the feeling, tightening around his cock. He groaned into your cheek while he held you up with his hand on your neck. “Come on, tell me you want me to fuck your pretty little cunt.” He said. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, your eyes blurring with tears as you admitted it in front of him, and God all the same. “Yes, I want your cock to fuck me and I want to come!” You cried. 

“You want to come?” He asked, “Is that it, Cherub? You wanna come while confessin’ your sins right here in front of the holy altar?” his voice was strained and you could feel his thrusts becoming messier, harder as he chased his own orgasm. 

“Yes! Father! Please!” his finger stroked across your clit. 

“Come on my cock, Cherub. Let go for me,” He spoke the word into her cheek, your head turned to the side, leaning back into him. Your orgasm burst over you like white light, heat and shivers down your spine. He stroked your clit through it while his hips pumped his thick cock in and out of you, pulling mewls of pleasure out of. Your eyes opened and you watched the statue of the Virgin Mary while his cock pummeled your cervix and he released ropes of his hot spend inside of you. He groaned into your cheek, your body still back against him. Joel’s teeth caught your jaw, biting you briefly. 

As your breathing settled a little, Father Joel Miller pulled himself out of you. You felt his eyes on your completely destroyed pussy and his fingers briefly stroked at your entrance, gathering a generous amount of his sticky come onto his fingers before he lifted your underwear for you, covering you again. 

“Turn around, Cherub.” he instructed and you did, your face burning with the shame of what had just happened. Joel grabbed your jaw with one of his hands, “Open,” he said and you did what you were told, your tongue pressed out just a tiny bit, resting against your bottom lip. He brought the finger coated in his come that had been dripping out of you to your tongue and swiped across it. The salty, heady taste mixed with the scent of Father Joel Miller, Tobacco, mint, fresh sweat and the acrid burning metallic gunpowder smell. Shivers ran up and down your spine as you stood in front of the holy altar, bleary eyed and red cheeked. 

“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

[inspiredangel]

rafe hates shopping

"Sweetheart.." he sighed dramatically, with a small pout on his lips. You two had been at the mall for three hours, all thanks to you walking in and out of 40 diffrent shops, and insiting on trying a bunch of clothes until you came across one you liked.

You huffed, your hands moving down your dress, fixing the creases as you stared at yourself in the mirror, not sure if you liked it or not. "I´m almost done."

You said that atleast 20 times, and you were never 'almost done.' he rolled his eyes "Bullshit." he said in an annoyed tone "You look beautiful. Buy the dress, and let´s go home."

He always hated going shopping with you, because of how long you took to pick a single item out. But he always came either way since he was the one who paid for everything.

His hand reached out and took yours, dragging you closer to him. His other hand moving over to your waist, pushing you down to sit on his lap. "C´mon, baby." he whispered; his voice low, and soft in your ear. You sighed, crossing your arms over his chest "I need to get a dress."

"You have so many already." he stated, with a small chuckle slipping past his lips "But not one like this," you countered, giving him a pointed look. Your tone was pouty but insistent, and Rafe just shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, I get it," he said with a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the chair as if the weight of your shopping escapades was physically exhausting him. Which in all honesty, it was.

You rolled your eyes, your annoyance growing as he dismissed your words.

And before you could even open your mouth and say another word, he closed the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both firm and all-consuming.

His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, as if to emphasize his point. The annoyance bubbling inside both of you, quickly faded as you felt your lips dance with his.

You smiled against his lips, pulling away briefly just enough for your noses to brush, his voice was low, a smile present on his face. "Still thinking about the dress?"

‎‎‎‎ ‎ 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 , 𝐛𝐞𝐚

𝐚/𝐧 — the rafe blurbs are coming hottt, i promise i´ll post more sturniolo content soon, i just can´t stop writing for rafe. I apologize if there are any misspells or my grammar is bad, english is not my first language.

@marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous @sturn777 @sturniologirlzz @venusbabysblog @ch6rm @sturniolossss @mattsbrowser @sturnlsstuff @chrissweetheart @lizzyzzn @sophand4n4

[maretinelli]

TURNS FROM THE PAST

Oscar Piastri X Engineer!fem!reader

Summary: Y/n and Oscar Piastri were once young lovers, but the pressure of racing and the distance between them tore them apart. Years later, they meet again when Y/n is hired as a Mechanical Engineering Assistant for McLaren. The tension between what once was and what is now puts them both to the test, as past feelings begin to resurface.

Words: 7K+

Warnings: Mentions of breakups, bottled up feelings, mentions of mechanical engineering jobs, and happy endings.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may be in the story. And I think the best way to write for pilots is to have the protagonist be an engineer hahaha I love it, you know.

MASTERLIST

The McLaren HQ boardroom was buzzing with activity. Engineers, strategists and the two drivers, Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris, were gathered together, listening intently to Zak the team boss as he discussed the second half of the season. The team boss was keen to stress the importance of staying focused and consistent.

However, before closing, he made an announcement that caught everyone's attention even more.

"I want to take this opportunity to talk about something historic for our team," Zak began, with an excited smile. "For the first time, we will have a female mechanical engineer working with us in the races. She will be an assistant for now, but based on her resume, I am fully confident that in a few years she could become one of the team's chief engineers."

The comment drew murmurs of approval and enthusiasm from around the room. Lando was the first to speak up.

"This is amazing! It's about time we had more brilliant women around here. I can't wait to meet our new engineer."

Oscar chuckles softly, knowing how Lando was around women.

"Lando, Lando!!" Oscar says singing to his friend who was in front of him and makes the team laugh.

"Hey! I'm really excited. This is a historic moment for the team." He kicks Oscar's leg under the table and smiles. Oscar glares at him for the kick and laughs at the comment.

"She'll be joining us in the races, starting now in the second part of the season," Zak continued. "She recently graduated from university. And her name is Y/n...!" He turned a sheet of paper in his hand, to make sure he got her last name right. "That's right, Y/n Vanpelt!"

Oscar's smile fell. He could feel time stopping.

The name echoed through the room. To everyone else, it was just the name of a new classmate. But to Oscar, it was like he was in a dream. He froze in his chair. Y/n VanPelt. His Y/n. Or rather, the Y/n who used to be his.

Images from the past flashed through Oscar’s mind: the trips to the junior teams, her in the pits cheering him on, the quiet moments they shared when they were together. The memory of how they had ended came back to him like a punch, even though the end had been amicable. Still, the void she had left was never filled.

"Dude, what's up?" Lando asked quietly, leaning forward in his chair across from Oscar. Noticing his friend's unusual silence.

Oscar blinked rapidly, coming back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just... thinking. It's great to have another engineer on the team."

But it wasn't all right. His heart was pounding, and he could barely concentrate on what Zak was saying as he talked more about her.

It was then that a knock on the door interrupted the meeting. The door opened, and there she was.

Y/n walked into the room wearing the McLaren uniform, the papaya t-shirt that looked like it was made just for her. Oscar could hardly believe how she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

The years hadn’t dulled her shine. On the contrary, it seemed as if life had only enhanced what was already perfect. How could she transform even a work outfit into something so charming?

"Guys, I'm sorry I'm late for the meeting," she said with a light, genuine smile, the same smile Oscar remembered so well. "I got lost around here."

The room laughed, breaking the formality.

Y/n took a few more steps, not yet realizing he was there.

"Zak has probably already introduced me, but my name is Y/n Vanpelt and I'll be joining you for a few years as a mechanical engineering assistant at the races." She smiled, and Zak spoke again to emphasize again how happy he was to have her on the team.

It was then that her eyes met Oscar's. For a second, time seemed to stop again.

Oscar felt his heart race in his chest, almost as if he were on the starting grid. It was as if everything he had kept deep down for years was coming to the surface all at once. Yin froze for a moment. It was him. Oscar. The boy she had loved when she was younger, who she had watched grow up and who had supported him as he pursued his dreams.

The man she left behind but could never completely forget.

"Y/n will be working directly with Norris' car and its engineers, but of course, in times of need, she can also be called upon to assist with Piastri's car. This will be great for her initial learning and to get to know the dynamics of racing better."

Y/n nodded politely, maintaining a calm smile.

She had known since she accepted McLaren's offer that Oscar was part of the team. She had mentally prepared herself for it, but nothing had prepared her for the overwhelming feeling of seeing him again, there, in the same room, after so many years.

She adjusted the smile on her face, trying to hide any emotion. Luckily, no one seemed to notice. No one except Oscar. He continued to glance at her, and that small but familiar smile brought back memories he had tried so hard to push to the back of his mind.

Zak, oblivious to what was happening between the two, ended the meeting on an upbeat note.

"So, everyone, let's welcome Y/n! I'm sure she'll be a valuable addition to the team."

The engineers and strategists began to stand, some already going to greet her. Lando was one of the first, of course. He approached with a warm smile, extending his hand.

"Welcome, Y/n! It's great to have you here. I hope you can keep my car ahead of Oscar." He joked and got a few laughs from everyone around.

She laughed at the comment and thanked him for the welcome. "Thank you, Norris."

"Oh, you can call me Lando. We'll be working together now." He smiles friendly.

"Of course, Lando!"

Lando turned, clearly pleased with the first interaction, and looked to the side, expecting to see Oscar nearby.

"Hey, Oscar, come tell me..." He stopped mid-sentence when he realized his teammate was no longer there.

Y/n, curious, followed Lando's gaze, only to notice Oscar outside the room, walking down the hallway that was visible through the glass wall. He left discreetly, without drawing attention, but she saw him.

For a brief moment, her eyes locked onto him again, and a small smile escaped before she could stop herself.

Not wanting to show anything, Y/n turned her attention to the people around her, greeting the engineers and other team members who approached to welcome her.

•••••••••••••••••••••

It was Y/n's first time participating in a Grand Prix as an engineering assistant, and despite the typical Belgian cold, she felt an internal warmth, a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

I was in the McLaren garage, talking to Lando and three engineers about the final adjustments to his car.

"If something goes wrong, I'll only blame you, Y/n," Lando teased, winking at her.

She laughed.

"No pressure then. I'll make sure you at least get past Q1."

The engineers around them laughed, and Lando shook his head, clearly enjoying her sense of humor. Y/n felt more and more comfortable with the team, and the lightheartedness of the employees made it easy.

After they finished discussing the last details, she said goodbye to the group and left the garage. I felt like I needed a moment to breathe before the adrenaline of qualifying started. He decided to go to the team hospitality to get something hot.

Tea always helped her calm down.

When she entered the VIP room, she expected to find the seat empty, but instead she saw Oscar there, sitting near the window, looking out. He seemed to be enjoying a moment of peace before the hustle and bustle began.

He noticed her presence and turned his head towards the door. Their eyes met, and they both smiled, but the silence that followed was heavy, laden with things unsaid.

Y/n hesitated, but walked in, trying to look natural as she walked to the table where the tea options were. She was about to say something when Oscar finally broke the silence.

"Hey, Y/n..." He began, his voice calm but with a hint of nervousness. Piastri stood up and took a few steps towards her. "I'm sorry I didn't welcome you back at the meeting. I...I had something to take care of."

It was a lie, of course. But he didn't know how to admit that he had been taken aback by seeing her again.

Oscar held out his hand to her, his eyes fixed on hers. "But really, I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to McLaren."

Y/n smiled, squeezing his hand firmly.

"Thank you, Piastri. It's good to see you again."

When he heard her call him Piastri, Oscar felt a tightness in his chest, as if the sound of that name, so impersonal, created an abyss between them.

He was so used to hearing nicknames like Osc - Love - Darling - Sweetie. That Piastri seemed wrong coming from her voice.

The use of his last name was a painful reminder that they were now just colleagues, far removed from what they had once been. He kept the smile on his face, but inside, that word echoed, carrying an unexpected weight.

Y/n smiles and returns her focus to the hot water of her tea. The small physical contact between them made her heart beat fast inside her ribcage.

"So, how... how are you?" Oscar asked, his voice softer now. "How's life? I mean, in general."

She glances quickly at Oscar and then looks back at her cup.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm adapting to the new city where I bought my apartment, but it's good to have changes, isn't it?" She smiles. "I'm enjoying working here, even though...even though it's strange." She pauses and laughs awkwardly. "Strange because I used to run in the past, you know, but from a different perspective."

Oscar smiles and feels a pain invade his chest: Racing was also the reason for their breakup. And now, look, they both work with it and on the same team.

"And how are your parents?"

Y/n looks up, caught off guard. "Oh, they...they're doing well. Their jobs are pretty hectic, working at the CBI is tough though." She chuckles softly. "But they're doing really well. Really proud of me being here, you know how they are. Vanpelt being Vanpelt."

Oscar nodded, a slight smile forming on his lips.

"I'm glad. I've always liked them a lot."

Y/n felt her heart tighten. It was impossible not to remember how he was part of her family, how they spent four years together, from the beginning of his career to a part in Formula 2.

So many shared memories, so many conversations about dreams and fears. So many nights when she would wake up in the middle of the night to drink water and see Oscar in the living room talking to his father. Laughter, jokes and funny conversations were shared between father-in-law and son-in-law.

She looks away at the clock on the wall and sighs. "Well, I should get going... I need to help some more engineers with the cars." She drinks the rest of her tea. "Good luck qualifying!"

Oscar smiles and thanks her, following her with his eyes until she disappears from the room.

He felt his heart pounding and tears threatening to fall. The pilot raised his head a little, trying to make the tears come back. He sighed heavily and then went down to the garage too, he had to be in the car in a few minutes.

Hours passed, and the McLaren garage was in high spirits. Lando was on the track, qualifying. While Oscar was at the back of the garage, anxiously waiting for his turn.

Y/n had her headphones on, leaning on a bench as she looked at the monitors and saw data from Lando's car and how he was doing on the track.

"He's losing a bit of time in the medium corners. He could be in the top 5 in qualifying, but if we make this change he could get some hate tomorrow!" Y/n commented, pointing to the graphs. "Maybe tweaking the rear suspension setup a bit could help maintain more stability."

The engineers exchanged quick glances and nodded, already reviewing the settings.

"Sure!! We'll do it when he arrives!" Says one of the older engineers, writing on a tablet and smiling.

Y/n turned her gaze to the graphs and tables on the monitors. From afar, Oscar admired her.

It was fascinating to him to see how Y/n was in control, shining as an assistant, even in such a competitive environment. He saw her speaking with confidence, pointing out technical details that only someone with true passion and dedication would notice.

The way she interacted with the other engineers, how they seemed to respect her, made Oscar proud, but it also made his chest tighten.

When Lando returned to the pits, she waited for him next to the car with an encouraging smile. The driver takes off his helmet and Y/n smiles, patting him on the back.

"Hey, very good! Top 5 huh!" Lando smiles and pats her on the back as well. "You're in fifth place for now, but I doubt the next teams will be able to overtake you."

Lando smiles. "Hey, thanks. You're doing a great job here. You might even steal one of their jobs!" He turns playfully and points to his engineers.

They laugh.

Y/n walked back to the main dashboard, where the charts and graphs of Oscar's car were already starting to update. She adjusted her headset, trying to stay focused on the data, but it was impossible to ignore the familiarity of that name flashing on the screen: Oscar Piastri.

Her heart beat a little faster. Working so closely with Oscar was affecting her more than she cared to admit.

When Oscar appeared in the garage, ready to get into the car, Y/n was organizing the equipment next to his seat. He walked past her and, for a moment, it seemed like time stood still.

"Here..." She said, picking up the helmet beside her and handing it to him. Their fingers brushed lightly, and their eyes met for seconds that felt like minutes.

Oscar thanked him with a slight smile, his voice low. "Thank you."

They continued to stare at each other, a mix of tension and familiarity hovering between them. Y/n felt heat rise to her face, but didn't look away immediately, while he also seemed reluctant to break eye contact.

Lando, who was removing his gloves near the side of the car, noticed. He raised an eyebrow, noting the way they seemed trapped in that moment. It was subtle, but enough to be noticed. Lando didn't say anything, just went back to what he was doing, but a slight smile appeared on his lips.

He thought Oscar was into the new engineer. Not that they dated in the past.

Y/n composed herself, finally breaking contact and taking the wheel of Piastri's car, while he himself put on the balaclava.

When he got into the car, Y/n put the steering wheel and looked at Oscar, who had his visor up. Their gazes held for a while longer.

"Good luck, Piastri!"

"Thank you, Y/n." She sees him smile under his helmet and then lowers the visor.

The engine roared as he started and pulled out of the garage, leaving Y/n behind, feeling her heart beat wildly.

Oscar was on the track, completing his fast laps as the thunderous sound of the engine cut through the air of the circuit. In the garage, Y/n was focused on the graphics that flashed on the monitor, showing the data of his car in real time.

She analyzed every detail: the temperature of the tires, the speed on the straights, the behavior of the car on the curves.

Chatting briefly with the engineers around her, suggesting small adjustments to the front wing and differential. Her posture was serious, but there was a sparkle in her eyes—she was completely immersed in her work, as if every detail was part of a puzzle she loved solving.

As soon as the car returned to the garage, Oscar stepped out of the cockpit, removing his helmet with quick movements. He looked around, visibly anxious to know his position.

One of the engineers approached with a smile. "Sixth place, Oscar. A great lap."

Oscar breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, running his hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He was satisfied, although he was already starting to think about what he could improve for the next day.

Across the garage, Y/n watched the scene. When Oscar's eyes briefly turned to her, she smiled genuinely, that encouraging smile she always had, even in the old days.

"Good job, Piastri. Sixth place is a great starting point," she commented, her tone light but firm.

Oscar smiled back, still holding his helmet. "Thank you, dear." He said quietly, but Y/n could read his lips.

•••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n was already adapting to the exhausting routine and intense environment at McLaren. She got along well with the team, her technical knowledge and dedication were already being recognized, but whenever she had to interact with Oscar, the tension would set in again.

She knew he was handling the situation impeccably, maintaining professionalism in every exchange of words, but it was impossible not to notice the lingering glances or the pauses between responses.

It was as if they were both constantly treading on an emotional minefield, where any slip-up could bring to light the past they both avoided.

And even though the breakup ended with them being friendly. No fighting, arguing or finger pointing, just saying what would be best for them at the moment, the tension of seeing the love of their life in front of them again was overwhelming.

It was like reliving memories they had never been able to erase, even after so many years. They missed each other. A lot, a lot.

While Y/n was adjusting Lando's graphics, one of the engineers asked her to get some equipment from the back of the garage.

Walking back, still remembering the numbers she needed to analyze, she hurriedly turned the corner and bumped into someone. The force of the impact almost made her drop what she was holding, but it was the familiar face that made her gasp.

Oscar stood there, equally surprised. He reflexively grabbed her arm, helping her steady herself. For a moment, they both stood still, their eyes fixed on each other. And then it dawned on Piastri.

She still wore the necklace he had given her as a gift, with his first salary as a pilot. The jewel was silver, delicate with small red hearts. Simple, but with great emotional impact.

Oscar felt his heart squeeze. But it was out of love, he could feel his heart beating so fast because of how much love he still had for her.

They stood still, their eyes fixed on each other, as if there was a silent conversation going on between them, full of words neither of them had the courage to say out loud.

Oscar swallowed hard, trying to shake off the whirlwind of emotions that hit him. He forced a smile, his voice slightly teasing.

"In a dream world, as always, huh?"

Y/n blinked, snapping out of her own trance. She laughed, embarrassed, adjusting her necklace almost unconsciously.

"And you're still the most distracted driver off the track. You should be watching where you're going too," Oscar smiled, chuckling softly at the comment.

They exchanged one more look, and then Y/n muttered an "Excuse me" before walking past him and heading back to her station.

Lando, who was nearby, watched the scene from afar. He frowned, curious. As soon as he got the chance, he crouched down next to Y/n, lowering his voice so that no one else would hear.

"What's going on between you two? Ever since you arrived, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife."

Y/n looked at him, pretending to be confused, and laughed softly. "Nothing, Lando. We're acting completely normal."

"Normal?" Lando arched his eyebrows, a mischievous smile appearing. "This is far from normal. There's something going on. Feelings, tension... I don't know."

She choked on the words, looking at him in surprise. "Lando, it's nothing like that. I swear."

"Oh, really? Then why do you two look like shy teenagers every time you're in the same room?" He tilted his head, waiting for an answer.

Y/n defeated, drops her tablet on the table and looks at Lando, with an expression like she was about to tell him everything. "Okay, okay. We... dated... For four years."

Lando's eyes widened, surprise written all over his face. "FOUR YEARS? You were together for four years and you're saying it's no big deal?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Y/n looked around to make sure no one else was listening. "It's no big deal now. It was a thing...of the past."

No, it wasn't just one thing and it wasn't just in the past.

Lando laughed in disbelief. "You still love each other, trust me."

Before she could respond, he raised his hands in surrender and returned to his seat, leaving Y/n to stare uncomfortably at the monitors.

She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking about it. Her eyes were fixed on the data tables of Oscar's car.

Time passed, and the Monza Grand Prix race was already underway. Everyone in the McLaren garage had their eyes fixed on the big screen and the engineers on the graphs and numbers that the drivers' cars were transmitting.

Y/n was helping with both Lando's and Oscar's cars. She had her headphones on, but could only hear the instructions from Lando's engineers.

As he analyzed the data on the monitors, he noticed Oscar's engineers beginning to fidget. They were talking rapidly into the radio, trying to deal with something urgent.

Curious, Y/n took off her headphones and approached the group. "What's going on?"

One of the engineers explained that they were dealing with overheating brakes, something that could force Oscar to abandon the race if it wasn't fixed quickly. She frowned, thinking of a solution.

"We can adjust the air intake to increase cooling. It will be risky, but it could work until the end of the race."

The engineers exchanged glances before nodding. They quickly radioed Oscar into the pits.

"Hey, could I adjust the data?" She asks shyly, to one of the chief engineers of Oscar's car. He smiles kindly.

"Sure, sure! Feel free."

Y/n excuses herself and thanks her, before sitting in front of the panels and starting typing numbers and formulas to change the data.

She saw Oscar's car pull into the garage, and within 2 seconds he was gone, heading back to the track. She was still sitting near the dashboard of his car, and as one of the Australian's engineers walked by, she turned with a smile, peeling off her nail polish before gently asking,

"Could...could I follow the charts here? Just...just in case." It was a professional excuse, but deep down, she knew she wanted to be closer to Oscar.

"Yes, yes. I'll get you a headset."

She felt grateful. Then she took the headphones that one of them gave her and made herself more comfortable, watching the numbers and data that Oscar's car updated every second. Her heart was beating faster than it should have, but she forced herself to stay focused.

It was just work, she repeated to herself.

But being there, watching the numbers that reflected her ex-boyfriend's performance on the track and hearing his voice on the radio from time to time, brought a feeling that was hard to ignore.

Even so, Y/n concentrated, mentally noting small adjustments that could be useful, knowing that she couldn't let her emotions interfere. But, deep down, being there, so close to him and at the same time so far away, was more difficult than she imagined.

Halfway through the race, as the cars slid down the track, Y/n noticed something unusual on Oscar's graphs. Some of the data was out of the ordinary, and she frowned, analyzing the information quickly.

"Something's wrong here," she muttered, attracting the attention of one of the engineers. "Can you tell Piastri about this? He needs to adjust-"

Before he could finish, the engineer smiled encouragingly. "Why don't you speak yourself? You can use the radio. It's faster."

She blinked in surprise. “Me?” Her voice sounded more nervous than she would have liked. Her heart immediately raced, but she hid it by nodding firmly. “Okay. I can do that.”

Y/n adjusted the microphone, taking a deep breath as she gathered her courage. After all, it was just work, nothing more.

Her voice controlled, she spoke into the radio, professional but with a slight hesitation: "Piastri, this is Y/n. I'm seeing something on the graphs. If you could adjust the rear differential slightly for the next corner, it should help with stability. Got it?"

And there was the last name again. She had been working with them for four races, and whenever she talked to Oscar or referred to him, Piastri was the name. It made the younger driver feel crushed and on the verge of tears.

On the other side, there was a brief but meaningful silence. Oscar was so focused that for a moment his mind was lost when he heard that voice.

In Y/n's voice. Your beloved, Y/n.

He didn't expect this, and for a moment he stopped paying attention to the next turn, feeling a different warmth spread through his chest.

"Plasters? Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Understood. I'll make the adjustment now. Thanks for the suggestion."

He knew he was supposed to sound casual, but the slight pause in his response gave away the impact of that interaction.

On the other side, Y/n just breathed a sigh of relief, focusing on the numbers again, while trying to ignore the sound of her own heart, which seemed as loud as the roar of the cars on the track.

The race ended with a mixture of tension and joy in the McLaren garage. Oscar crossed the line in second place and Lando in first, securing their places on the podium.

The team burst into celebration, but Y/n, even smiling at the result, preferred to remain in the background, busy analyzing the final data and updating graphs. She did not go to the podium.

Not that she wasn't happy, but because she thought it was better to stay focused on work - or at least that's what she told herself.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/n kept herself busy, but she couldn't help but feel flashes of happiness as she remembered how her advice had helped ensure that outcome. Deep down, she felt proud, but she didn't want to stand out. It was her job, after all.

After stepping down from the podium, still with his racing suit half open and his hair damp with champagne, Oscar walked back to the garage. He looked tired, but radiant. As soon as he spotted Y/n in the back, his smile softened, and he walked over to her.

"You were amazing today," he began, stopping a few feet away from her. "Seriously, that suggestion on the radio... it was crucial. I wouldn't have made it to the podium without it. Thank you, Y/n."

She looked up from her charts, surprised by his direct gratitude. A shy smile played on her lips. "I was just doing my job, Oscar. But I'm glad it helped."

Finally she hadn't used the driver's last name. Oscar. The name itself made the McLaren driver's heart race.

Oscar's gaze softened even further, and for an instant, the world around them seemed to disappear.

They stared at each other, as if there was something unsaid, something that only they understood. There was an intense emotional charge to the connection that they both thought they had left in the past, but which was still very much alive.

Before anyone could say anything, a voice called Oscar to the media appointments. He sighed, lowering his head to hide it, before smiling again at Y/n.

"Thank you once again... My sunshine." The word came out softly, almost like a whisper.

The nickname he used when they were dating made Y/n's heart race. She stood frozen, watching as he walked away, his hand sliding briefly and gently over her shoulder, a touch almost imperceptible, but full of meaning.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, Y/n stood there, motionless. The nickname echoed in her mind, along with the memory of everything they had shared in the past. Her heart clenched, and tears began to well up in her eyes. She took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure.

Then one of the engineers called out to her, bringing her back to reality. She quickly wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand and adjusted her posture before turning around and answering. She went back to work as if nothing had happened, but inside, she knew something had changed.

The noise of the rush had finally died down, and the garage was nearly empty. Only a few people were still working, dismantling equipment or organizing tools.

Y/n was sitting on a counter, her feet dangling as she typed on the computer the modifications she had made to the cars during the race. With her headphones playing music, she was immersed in her own bubble, focused on her work and oblivious to the rest of the environment.

Oscar entered the garage silently. He watched Y/n for a moment, her face illuminated by the laptop screen, her hair falling lightly over her eyes as she typed. A small smile appeared on his lips at the sight of her so focused.

He walked up to her and, without saying anything, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly in surprise.

She looked up at him and smiled shyly before taking off her headphones. "Hi," she said, still a little surprised to see him there.

"Hi!" He replied with a small smile, before pulling out one of the high-backed engineer stools and sitting across from her.

He made a casual comment about the race, something about how second place was a good result, and she responded with a smile, closing her laptop as she nervously bounced her feet.

His eyes fixed on his own sneakers, avoiding direct eye contact.

Silence settled between them, heavy with something they could both feel but neither knew how to break. Finally, Oscar took a deep breath and asked, his voice low and careful.

"Can I talk to you?"

She looked at him, surprised, but nodded slowly. "Sure. It's okay."

Piastri hesitated for a moment, running a hand through his hair before continuing. "It's about... about us, actually."

The surprise in Y/n's eyes was evident, but she kept her tone calm. "You can talk," she said, trying to ignore the lump that was starting to form in her throat.

Oscar looked at her, his eyes reflecting emotions he rarely expressed. "What was it like for you... the breakup?"

Y/n felt her heart sink. She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to answer. "It was hard," she began, her voice cracking. "Really hard. But I knew that... that at the time it was what needed to be done. We were both on such different paths, and it was all so complicated." A lone tear escaped, but she ignored it, focusing on what she was saying. "It's still hard sometimes. Thinking about everything we've been through, how it felt so right, and yet..." Her voice trailed off, but she took a deep breath to continue. "It still didn't work out."

Oscar felt his chest tighten as he saw tears begin to form in her eyes. He was silent for a moment, processing her words, before finally confessing.

"And you?"

"For me, it was devastating. It was like... like I lost a part of myself. I tried to focus on work, but nothing seemed to make sense. I tried to move on, but... I think about you every day. Seeing you here now, every week, helps a little bit. It's like a part of me is whole again." He looked directly into her eyes, vulnerable. "It was painful, Y/n. Much more than I imagined it would be."

Y/n blinked rapidly, trying to hold back her tears, but they fell anyway. Oscar noticed and, without thinking twice, got up from the bench and approached her. He raised his hand hesitantly and, when he realized she wouldn't move away, he gently wiped the tears from her face.

"Sorry" the pilot said softly, his voice full of regret.

She gave a weak smile, knowing that was a characteristic of him. Always apologizing, even when it wasn't necessary. "You always apologize for everything, you know?" She said, her tone soft.

He laughs softly.

Before they could say anything else, someone came into the garage, announcing that the lights would be turned off in ten minutes. They both nodded, slightly embarrassed, coming back to the present.

Y/n closed her laptop and tucked it under her arm. Before leaving, she patted his shoulder lightly, smiling. "See you at the next race."

Oscar smiled at her, watching as she walked away down the driveway. Even after she was out of sight, he stood there for a few moments, feeling the weight and intensity of the conversation.

•••••••••••••••••••••

The weeks passed, and the end of the season was fast approaching. Between traveling, strategizing, and intense racing, Y/n and Oscar seemed to have found a rhythm amidst their constant coexistence.

In the moments spent together with the team, the jokes flowed, the laughter escaped naturally, and the tension of the past seemed almost forgotten. But when they found themselves alone, even briefly, Y/n felt her heart race, as if the control she was trying to maintain over her feelings was hanging by a thread.

In the quick glances and the small moments when their paths crossed, it was evident that the past was still there, alive in both of them.

Over the last few GPs, Y/n has started to focus more on Oscar's car, a natural move given his growing technical knowledge and his ability to analyze performance data in real time.

Lando noticed the change and was happy to see the closeness between the two. He didn't know the details of their past, but something in the way Oscar looked at Y/n and her smile when she answered was enough for him to silently root for the couple.

Now at the race in Brazil, Y/n was on Oscar's radio, following the car's graphs and data.

"Oscar, you're losing time in sector 2. You could try using the middle of the track more in turn 8 to gain stability on the exit."

Her voice was professional, calm, but Oscar felt a slight warmth when he heard it. He replied firmly, “Understood, I will adjust it.”

A few laps later, she spoke again: "Your pace is good, but watch out for rear tire wear. Slow down on the tighter corners."

Oscar responded with a light tone of humor, breaking the tension a little: "So, no exaggerations? Understood, boss."

Y/n smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "Exactly, no exaggeration. We're watching."

And then, on the last lap, Oscar crossed the finish line first.

The garage exploded in joy, screams and applause echoing throughout the space. Y/n felt tears start to form, a mixture of relief, pride and something deeper that she couldn't explain.

For the first time, Y/n followed the podium closely. He stood alongside the team, watching as Oscar lifted the trophy. He looked at the audience and saw her there, a little more comfortable in his presence, applauding along with the others and the tears were falling. The smile on Oscar's face seemed brighter at that moment.

Y/n returned to the garage before the excitement of the podium ended. She was gathering her things from a workbench, organizing papers and turning off the computer, while the adrenaline from the race still pulsed through her veins.

Oscar, stepping down from the podium, looked around, searching for her. He spotted Y/n in the background, almost hidden in the corner of the garage, and something in his chest tightened.

He didn't think; he just acted.

With firm steps, he left the first place trophy on the nearest table and walked straight towards her.

"Y/n!" His voice cut through the muffled sound of the conversations around them.

She turned at the sound of her name, a soft smile appearing on her face as she recognized the voice. But before she could say anything, Oscar was there, right in front of her. Without hesitation, he cupped her face with both hands and pulled her in for a kiss.

The world seemed to stop. The heat of his touch ran through Y/n's entire body, making her forget where she was. The kiss was full of accumulated feelings. longing, passion, relief, and a mix of all the things they never had the courage to say. For Oscar, it was like coming home; for Y/n, it was like finding something she didn't even know she was still looking for.

For a moment, they were lost in each other, feeling everything they had repressed for so long. Y/n's hands rose to his shoulders, while Oscar leaned in even closer, as if afraid she would slip away.

A passionate kiss with a taste of champagne.

When they finally separated, they were both panting, their foreheads almost pressed together. The look in Oscar's eyes was intense, and Y/n could barely process what had just happened.

Before they could say anything, a voice echoed through the garage. "Oscar! Come on, they're waiting for the interviews!" It was Lando, calling him from afar.

Oscar looked at Y/n, who was still stunned, and a smile played on his lips. "I'll be back. Wait for me, okay?"

And with that, he walked away, leaving Y/n there, her heart racing and her lips still tingling from the kiss.

Lando saw her smile as the girl leaned against the table, trying to absorb what had happened.

"Are you okay?" He asks with a laugh and Y/n looks up at her friend and teammate.

"We kissed!" She smiles.

Lando laughs and gives a thumbs up. "Great! I'm happy for you guys!" He sends her a sincere smile and walks away, laughing at his friend's silly comment.

After the kiss in the garage, Oscar's words still echoed in Y/n's mind: "I'll be back. Wait for me." She tried to focus on her work, but every detail seemed distant, as if the world around her was blurry.

As soon as he finished his tasks, he asked someone from the team to tell Oscar that he had already returned to the hotel.

Hours later, while relaxing in the hotel lobby, Y/n was enjoying the warm Brazilian breeze. She was in a casual conversation with some of the girls from the media team, trying to distract her mind and avoid thinking about the kiss.

It was then that she saw him.

Oscar walked through the front door with Lando, his confident posture contrasting with the slight blush that rose when he noticed Y/n.

Their eyes met, and he smiled, beckoning her with a subtle movement of his finger. Her heart skipped a beat.

Excusing herself from the girls, she walked towards him, feeling Lando's encouraging gaze, who soon headed towards the elevators, leaving the two alone.

Oscar smiled, his voice gentle as he asked, "Can we talk for a bit?"

She nodded with a shy smile, leading him hand in hand to the pool area, where the lights reflected on the water in an almost magical way. The soft sound of the water was a perfect contrast to the whirlwind of feelings inside her.

The air was warm, but Y/n felt butterflies in her stomach, as if she knew something important was about to happen.

Oscar broke the silence first. "I wanted to apologize for the kiss."

"You don't need to apologize. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have continued." Her words brought visible relief to him.

"Y/n... I can't keep it in anymore. Ever since you showed up on the team, it all came back. I tried to ignore it, I tried to be professional, but... I can't. I still love you. I always have. All these years I thought that with time it would pass, but it didn't. And now, seeing you every week just showed me that it will never pass."

Y/n felt her eyes water, but she kept her gaze fixed on him. "Ouch... I know. I tried to convince myself that our story was over, that it was the best thing for both of us at the time.

But every time I see you, I realize I was wrong. Our love is not dead. I know that."

He took a step closer, his eyes shining in the pool lights. Slowly, Oscar lifted one hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, the gesture so simple yet so intimate.

"Our love will only die when we both die of old age."

She laughed passionately, and before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her again. It was a different kiss, calmer, but full of promise and certainty. When they broke apart, they both had tears in their eyes and smiles on their lips.

"I love you, my sunshine." He said, his voice firm.

"I love you, love," she replied, her voice choked with emotion.

He held her hands gently. "I want to try again. Both of us. No matter what comes, I want to be by your side. Can we go back?"

Y/n nodded, tears streaming down her face as she smiled. "Yes, Osc. I want to go back. I want our story back."

They embraced, a gesture full of relief, love and hope. Under the lights of the hotel, with the soft sound of the pool and the Brazilian heat all around them, they knew they were taking the first step towards a new beginning.

This time, there was no doubt. What they had was real, strong, and meant to last.

[overwhelmed-alien]

Jake “Hangman” Seresin: Passenger Princess

The general consensus in his class is that Jake must think he’s up there with royalty, and therefore deserves to be driven around. That’s where the whole “princess” thing came from, originally. Jake of course rolls with it, plays up the prim “driving is beneath someone like me”, chuckles at the good-natured eye-rolls, and hops into someone’s -anyone’s- front seat and immediately fiddles with the radio just to be a brat.

The true reason, one he will never utter out loud, is that driving terrifies him. He grew up in rural Texas with hundreds of miles of straight, flat roads from horizon to horizon. Roads that frequently were completely empty, maybe you’d meet a tractor once in a while. So 12 lanes of bottlenecked California traffic, horns honking, engines revving, cars swerving in and out of lanes, the bright sun making it hard to see, unnerves Jake more than anything. Up in the sky he’s fearless, but the planes, he reasons, aren’t crowding around you not caring if you live or die as long as they get to brunch with the girls on time.

Bradley clocked it first, naturally. They’d lived together for years, back when they were “Bradley and Jake”. How Jake would never ask to drive, never grab the keys on the way out, would always sweetly beg -“honey come grocery shopping with me, it’ll be fun!” - Bradley to accompany him anywhere he went. Bradley could never deny him anything, so off they would go, either in Bradley’s Bronco or Jake’s truck, him driving, Jake in the passenger seat. He always thought it was adorable, Jake hopping up beside him grinning like a loon when he got his way, grin wider when Bradley inevitably calls him Princess. But he started noticing subtle things that he wouldn’t have noticed years ago. How Jake closed his eyes and gripped the handle when someone swerved in front of them. How he fiddled and played with dials or his phone or the strings of a hoodie to avoid looking out the window. The film of sweat on his face that, thanks to the blaring AC, had nothing to do with the Cali heat. The knee that bounced until they arrived at their destination.

He’d tried bringing it up once or twice, Jake had always laughed and played it up, “baby I’m too cute to drive, we’ve established this.” So he drops it. But if he’s more engaging in animated conversations with Jake to distract him, if he sings just a little louder and dances in the drivers seat a little sillier to draw nervous green eyes his way and not the speeding line of traffic beside him, if he smiles a little sweeter and the “Princess” comes out a little more heated so Jake forgets the entire world around him for a time, well, he’d do anything for the boy in his passenger seat. When they break up -why did they break up again? He can’t even remember - he always worries about Jake, so much his heart hurts. Is he having to drive himself?

At the Hard Deck, with some secret mission looming over their heads, and Jake looking so damn good, so damn pissed off, so damn hurt -he’d really screwed up, hadn’t he? Jake had wanted to go home early - something about beauty sleep, Javy, please! - and Bradley, stopping his piano serenading immediately, without even thinking: “I got you, princess. I’ll take you home.”

And Bradley swears he can see every single emotion, from rage to relief, regret to guarded happiness, and so much fondness in those nervous green eyes he still loves so damn much.

(I won’t make Jake say “show me the way home, honey” because I guess it’s cliche by now, but I’ll still heavily imply he does with my whole chest)

[toriaanin]

The Skelton Crew

Once upon a time, there was a ship called the USS Lukola. She was a sleek vessel cruising a warm ocean - blue like a certain Irish lass's eyes - and filled with people like me who witnessed and believed in the love, light and energy shone by Nicola and Luke during (heck... even prior to) the Bridgerton season 3 world PR tour.

Unbeknownst to us passengers, the USS Lukola left charted waters and entered the Bermuda Triangle. BaBaBam (imagine ominous music here). Waves started crashing against the hull and over the deck. The ship's navigation equipment failed; the dials on the bridge panel spin spin spinning in counter clockwise, clockwise directions, like in the movies. Eeek! North, south, east, west? What direction was the ship headed?! Not to worry; the crew and passengers knew where they were going - breadcrumbs and morsels led the way, while heavy golden nuggets like the Claddagh ring & the This/That video 🤍 gave the ship ballast to withstand the storm... but they also knew that patience - and sea legs - were required to see them to their destination.

Naturally some passengers didn't have faith that the ship could reach it's destination so they jumped, relying on life vests for survival. In many cases, life boats were deployed (on more than one occasion) taking passengers to shore where they now look out over the water and wishing they'd remained aboard. Some even return. They're welcomed back of course.

And then there's the group that sent an SOS out to an old battleship. They wanted a tough ship. Not just because they imagined it could better withstand the waves, but because they'd shifted alliances and expected push-back from the USS Lukola. Problem! Their new alliance painted a rainbow flag on their hull. "That's okay", they told themselves. "We can't see it from the deck!" (Fingers in ears, eyes squeezed shut all while singing "lalala"). Rather then face reality and head to shore to join those passengers gazing longingly at the USS Lukola, they decided that sinking that darned happy-people ship was the ideal strategy to "win" the best ship prize. So they proceeded to employ battle tactics against the USS Lukola and, as it would happen, Lukola themselves. Most notably Luke.

So we came into Monday, battle worn following a weekend of presumed troll activity, redirection (because really, Ceasefire in Gaza is far more important to focus on! And also because one does not ignore N's patterns), and the fandom's descent onto the TT account of a sad, misguided young woman seeking social media attention and validation. Challenging for us, yes. Even more so for the Newton family.

Naturally, a few more life boats left the USS Lukola over the weekend too. Sigh. Sad to see them go.

And yet, the USS Lukola sails on!

I was telling a friend about how it feels like Lukolas are being winnowed like grain, the wind or a combine shaking our group to remove the chaff. She laughed and suggested a more appropriate ship reference: "What's remaining is the Skeleton Crew!". YES! That was exactly the right description for us!!!

Those of us who remain on the ship are the hearty diehards. We are the ones who belong to group chats, with friends to help support us during rough seas. Amongst our boney selves are the critical thinkers and analysts. We listen only to Nicola, Luke and their trusted allies. Then there are the creatives; those who develop scenarios based solely on the information provided by the critical thinkers and analysts. There are the bloggers here on Tumblr that relay information and theories, and then help us rib cages to hold on tight. I love that we're a fine collective of beautiful bones, supporting one another as we sail towards endgame. Love. We are The Skelton Crew!

Ahoy matey; there be treasure way!!

Proof of our ability to assess information, of our resilience as crew/passengers (not sure about you, but my chat groups are capital S supportive!), and our belief in Luke & Nicola's love came yesterday when that slag-rag DeuxMoi posted photos of Nicola & Jake buying carrots... and trolling the paparazzi. They spotted that photographer, devised a plan, laughed and totally goofed around for each photo!

Did we spiral? Maybe a little at first. Like I said, it was a difficult weekend and we didn't want more mayhem. Then we looked closer and started to laugh! Just like Nicola & Jake, we hammed it up in the ballroom, in the bar's lounge, and on the lido deck!

No, we don't want to have to weather another storm. But we will if we have to. We have each other and we're hardy souls! Well... skeletons! These bones were made for dancing! ☠☠☠

[baepsays]

Cherry liqueur ⸻ Gojo Satoru.

INSPIRED BY THIS ART, BY: @/shimisstuff

cw: blood, to be more specific-period blood, eating out (while reader is on their period), no use of specific pronouns, description of fem anatomy, fingering, m! masturbation, freak Satoru really, use of words like 'whore' 'slut' as a tease, use of terms of endearment, pussy slapping (sorry i love that shit), kind of some cum play :p, ye just nsfw stuff proceed with caution!, minors do not interact.

Gojo did not care for the color red. He really likes the color blue, as self centred as it may sound, he loves it. But even with his antipathy for the color red some of his most beloved things were colored red— like red velvet cake, strawberry jello, red macaroons always attract his attention first; something about red being a visually striking color which stimulates excitement or something — what he read. 

He particularly loved cherry pies. Beautiful crusty exterior and red gooey, sticky, bitter-sweet cherries inside. Anyone would think it is probably because he might like cherries. Which is not half wrong, he found his affinity for cherry desserts— specifically cherry pie and cherry liqueur cake, because his favorite red dessert is not always available at his disposal. And to frankly explain what is it? Your cunt, specifically when you're on your period. 

How did he find this— let's say unusual — affinity? It was very sudden, he was enjoying your saccharin taste on his tongue, nothing out of the ordinary. He truly enjoyed eating you out, savouring your taste way more than any average person may enjoy. He is the true definition of munch, this man could eat you, lick you, just smother his face in between your thighs for hours. That specific day you were really tired and he oh so kindly offered to perform oral on you to put you to sleep. He had cleaned you up in the bath, dressed you in your pajamas, laid you down on his plush bed, and ate you out like a starved man— a few mins in he suddenly tasted a new flavor spreading through his mouth. It was an uncannily identical flavor of cherry liqueur, a little less sweet but exactly bittersweet, slightly tart, overall very cherry.

You were too tired to even be conscious throughout the entire thing. You had passed out and it was only when he came up to catch a breath he realized that you started your period. Surprisingly it didn't deter him. He did go back in and finish you then cleaned you up once again, put on a pad in your underwear, cleaned up the sheets and himself. He particularly liked the look of himself covered in your blood reflecting back into his eyes. And the taste he could not forget or recreate. 

Since then he went on to practically begging you to let him taste you when you're bleeding. He seriously jumped up to the bed the day after that happened and went “please let me eat you out again.” 

And honestly you wouldn't say no, how can you ever deny your poor toru, then you realize the situation. That you're on your period and you had your period yesterday, this request of his is basically because he ate you out with arousal, blood and all things nasty. So it took him some serious convincing, begging, and a really shitty day where your cramps were hurting so bad that even the meds didn't help— to let him eat you out again blood and all. So he eagerly offered a massage, then some whispering in your ears about how good it'll feel and how it'll help with the pain. Long story short you gave in. And he became an obsessed vampire.

This brings us here, where there is a big thick towel under you, and you are on his bed. Naked, back arched, thighs engulfing his entire head, his white hair pushed back with his black headband. One time he was eating you out in similar circumstances with his hair down and he looked like a white cat who attacked a jar of jam. 

One of your hands clawed down on his shoulder, the other gripping the edge of the pillow under your head— trying to hold onto any semblance of sanity. 

“Ugh sweets. So sweet.” He rumbles in between your thighs right on your pussy. 

You were armed wordless, rid off of anything more than moans, grunt, sighs and whimpers. It did help that he pried your thighs off his head, with much reluctance—you best believe he would not die anywhere rather than right between your legs, breathless — he sits up, his sounds breathing heavy to even your senseless ears. He puts one of your ankles up on his shoulders, the other leg he hikes up to wrap around his waist. With a smear of red all across his cheeks, chin, and lip, he starts licking a stripe up from your ankle towards your thighs.

“Such a messy fucking whore for your toru right angel?” He says as he reaches your thighs and bites down lightly. 

“No answer? Huh. Have I slutted you out too hard? Hmm?” He lets out a slight chuckle, then continues to lick your inner thighs clean. He gathers all the blood and cum glistening around there, neat and blank to paint all over again. 

“P-please toru.” 

“Please what sweets?” He heaves out, clearly he is also having a hard time over here. But for the sake of prolonging your empty hazed up state of mind, asking and begging him to let you find your climax— that's how he found his own pleasure. 

“Need more.” you push yourself up on your forearms to look back at him, staring up at you with both your legs now hanging from his shoulder, eyes glowing in the abyss between your thighs.

“More? I give you my all and you still want more? My little insatiable whore.” His hand comes down to slap your clit, he gives it a second and puts down two more slaps right in your entrance. And you give out a loud screeching noise and fall back down on the bed. Gripping on his hair, headband, his hand which just slapped your pussy—now rubbing and tugging on your clit. 

“Honestly sweets say the word and I'll put the world at your feet.” He frees his hand from your grip, landing another little slap on your clit then slowly sliding a finger inside you. All you can do is frail around and jerk from the shivers running down your body. His other hand, pulls his cick out of his boxers, then goes to gather some blood and cum dripping down your entrance and aids it as lube to jerk off himself. 

“MORE SATORU!” 

“More? Aw but I am giving you my all sweetheart, you want more? More of me? My fingers? Anything? Tell me. Say it. Ask me, beg me. Look me in the eyes and command me.” And you do, somehow bring yourself to look at him. With a huge adorning his face, his fangs on display, ready to suck up every drop of blood you bless him with.

“Put another finger in toru. Please make me come.” 

“As you wish and more, angel.” And his grin widens as he pushes, another finger in. He really does give you what you wish and more — because he puts another finger in you, then turns all three of them up to find your spongy walls with the rough pads of his finger. He speeds up the other hand running up and down on his cock as he find the said sweet spot. He moves both his hands at a matched speed, imaging your walls gripping on his dick while he thrusts in and out of you with the said dick, instead of his fingers. 

You don't have much in you, words or patience to hold back and time your climax with his. “ I am gonna cum toru, I am gonna- please. Please. Oh my goodness, please Satoru.” you cry out, begging him to let you cum.

“Do it sweets. Come all over my- Ha. Fingers. Come on. Be my good little whore. Won't you sweetheart?” He talks you into your climax and you come undone on his fingers, gripping down on all three of his fingers, but his movements do not stop. The squelching noise mixed with your moans and his pants are obscene. Maybe not as obscene as your cum mixed up with your blood. 

He fingers you through it all, until you finish and even when you're getting aftershocks— he does flows down and focuses more on pressing down on your walls than ramming through you. Once you stabilize a little he pulls his fingers out, which elicits a whimper out of you. 

He sits up again, he changes the hand gripping his cock. He positions his cock on your cunt, and proceeds to jerk himself harder, chasing his own climax, with the hand he used to just finger you. Your cum and blood— sticky and coated all over his cock. 

You lean back up to grip onto his neck, your foreheads touching, panting and whimpering into each other's mouth—tongues twirling around each other, you taste your cum and blood on him. Metallic and nasty, but you'd never hold back from giving him everything, even if it means kissing in such a feral state. 

You lick the blood clean from the corner of his mouth, and that does it for him. He shoots ropes and ropes of cum all over your cunt. On your entrance, on your stomach, on your inner thighs— mixing up with the previously mixed in cum and blood. And he moans into your mouth throughout it all. Eyes shut, orbs of glowing blue hidden behind all that red smeared across his face.

“You are just the best dessert ever.” he says upon calming down a little and looking right into your eyes, then looking down at the mess between you two.

“Should I get another towel? Come on my dick next.” Nevermind. Maybe you two are capable of much more obscene activities. 

Safe to say, maybe Satoru is not so apathetic towards the color red. Especially when it tastes so sweet to him. 

a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources & @/sister-lucifer. wasn't gonna write then aashi (@fushitoru) beloved sent that ask and how can i ever deny her <3 AND THANK YOU SM TO SHIMI FOR LETTING ME USE THE ART!!! please check out more of her art! it is so beautiful!!

check out my latest work.

to access more of my works-click here.

[meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender]

Summary: You had only wanted to petition the god of summer for rain to ease the drought. Locked away for your crimes, the god of summer, Johnny comes to your aid to set all things right. Eventual Poly 141.

A/N: Please comment and reblog. Thank you to @ethereal-night-fairy and @wildflower-and-honey for feeding my brain worms. I love you both and cannot thank y'all enough <3 Thank you, @saradika, for the beautiful dividers I use in everything. @itsagrimm it would feel wrong not to tag you in something I had written.

CW: (18+) Children begone! PIV smut, swearing, a Dyslexic wrote this, Religious Kinks, some violence. Let me know if I missed anything!

NO AI

Leave a comment and reblog!

Even on a summer night, wrapped in darkness and starlight, sweat insisted on gathering at your temples. The fire cracked as you added your willow bark and woven cattails to the flames, praying to the god of summer, Johnny, for rain. You anxiously rubbed your arm over your beloved leaves' trellising along your arms, watching the embers' pops fall on dead grass as you stood beside your bucket of dirty water. Crispy and dry, shriveled and withered, the once green leaves of the oaks looked yellow, some falling away to join the dusty ground below. When you traveled to the lake to gather your offering, the water seemed putrid, mostly evaporated, leaving muddy banks to dry in the heat. It reeked a musk so awful; you wondered how even the fish stood it.

Come harvest, the looming hunger would cause an instability you feared. If the tradespeople hadn’t food, your people would not have even a foraged berry; the livestock not a blade of grass to chew.

“The council of elders dictated no fires, little lady.”

You jumped, turning to face Phillip Graves, your neighbor and ever-faithful watchdog for Elder Sheppard. Clutching the fabric of your dress, you licked your lips before tilting your chin up.

“Someone had to appeal to the gods about the drought. Or does the council think they can strong-arm the clouds to gather?” You bit. Pressing your lips together as Elder Sheppard followed behind his dog.

“My mother used to wear the robes of a priestess. I find it odd you wear those robes as well when the last of them burned with her body,” Sheppard noted.

The body of the last holy woman, who had mysteriously burnt to death in her home as her son had conveniently been away, was found with chains tethered to her body. Your family had always insinuated it was Sheppard who had murdered his mother and tried to cover it up, but there was no proof, no investigation.

Power begets power without hesitancy, and nothing made Sheppard hesitate.

“They were a gift, Elder-”

“Stolen or forged items ain’t gifts, little lady,” Phillip interrupted. He moved to stand beside you, circling you wolfishly. His grin never seemed to fit his face, always too small for proportion, a liar in disguise—a mutt of deception.

“How dare you imply such things about my character without proof?” You hissed, hands coming to clutch your skirts.

Phillip lurched forward, grabbing your arm. He tore your sleeve from your dress, the fabric popping at the delicate seams. You stepped back, only for him to hold your arm still in a grip that dimpled skin and muscle. Pain simmered below his touch, dancing with the fear curling in your throat. Philip glared at the tendrils of silver scars blessed to you by Kyle, god of Spring.

If Sheppard killed his mother, what would keep him from murdering you?

“Are there more marks?” the elder inquired, hooking a finger under your belt with a tug to suggest removing the garment altogether. 

Enraged, you smacked his hand, retrieving your arm from Phillip’s death grip, “My body is none of your concern!”

“The safety of the village comes before you!” Graves sneered, yanking your skirts towards him until you toppled forward. His hands moved to your hips, and you shoved at him until his hand came sharply against your cheek, the sting of the slap making you gasp.

Phillip… had hit you. Your eyes stung with tears as you grappled against him, shoving your elbows and hands anywhere near his body until you were free, only to be pulled back by Sheppard.

“I think it’s time for you to learn your lesson on hearsay, foolish girl,” Shepard hissed. “The gods are unkind to those who take liberties.”

“I’ve found favor with them. Cannot learn a lesson that is not there,” you quaked. From the corner of your eye, Philip pulled his dagger from his belt, flipping the hilt. With one quick flash, he struck your temple, leaving you crumpled into the cracked, dusty ground.

The moonbeams blurred the walls covered in cobwebs, revealing a thin layer of dust on the floor. Your beloved temple once stood as the prized gem of your people, welcoming all to a haven of peace and community. Pushing into a sitting position, the room tilted like the waves of the rushing river. The darkness of the windowless temple entryway echoed with the dry summer winds, carrying nothing but the singing yearning of water from the plants.

Shepard and Graves deserved to be hung on the oak for treason against the gods, the people, and yourself. Your arms, once covered in Kyle’s beautiful marks, claiming you as beloved of spring, now were dotted with drying scratches and swollen welts of discolored skin from their harsh treatment.

“Happy summer solstice, I guess,” You huffed, slowly hobbling to your feet, using the locked door to bear your weight as the spinning room settled again.

There were worse prisons to be had than a dusty temple. At least in the dusty temple, you were safe and alone from those who wanted you dead. You furrowed your brow and pushed off of the wall, heading deeper into the holy rooms. If they had wanted you dead, they should have stabbed you.

“Gods help me,” you huffed, sitting on a bench along the hallway leading to the offering room. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head against the wall, feeling a touch of a headache thump harder against your skull.

“You called Fawn?” 

You cracked open your eyes to see a man standing at the threshold of the altar room, beams of fire light flickering from the once dark room. He stood on his toes, seemingly bursting with energy, trying to go. Where he wanted to go, who knew? Perhaps he didn’t know himself? 

“Johnny?” You guessed, gazing at the god of summer. His blue eyes glittered like gems as he nodded. 

“As smart as you are, bonny, ain’t ya?” he teased, coming closer. Standing before you, he narrowed his eyes, moving your jaw to examine your temple. “Ach, that will do. What happened?”

“Got in trouble for trying to petition for your favor. Tore my dress and all,” you huffed. “Now I'm locked in here. I'm sure I can get out through the window in the east corridor if I break it.”

Johnny chuckled, holding your chin in both hands as he ran his thumb over your temple, smearing the blood. A breath of warmth trickled from his hand, allowing the skin to stitch together. Your eyes fluttered closed as you soaked in the warmth. 

“You could. Or you can stay the night with me,” Johnny teased. “Feel better, Fawn?” He questioned, leaning down to place a kiss on the healed skin. Your face warmed, suddenly bashful of his affection. 

“If you want, I’ll spend the night, Johnny,” You muttered as his nose brushed your cheek.

“Nae, spend it if ye want. If ye did nae want to, don’t. I want our Fawn to be comfortable above all.” He gave a bright grin before leaping to his feet and stepping back. Rocking on his feet, he tucked his hands in his pockets.

“I am comfortable with you. I wouldn’t accept it if I weren’t.” You stood, slipped your hand in his, and followed him into the offering room.

The offering room, dressed in old tapestries covered in dust and neglect, still looked magnificent and of the wealth the gods deserved to be honored with. The wealth came in the delicate hand-spun embroidery lace that decorated tables, and in the hair-line needlepoint stitches one of your ancestors had sewn into the tapestries. It was in the richly dyed fabrics of floor cushions and pillows, the foraged metal bowls with intricate silver detailing that held fruits Johnny fed you with.

Fruits that he summoned after you had explained the drought and how you ended up locked in the holy shelter. You chewed on your berry, leaning against him as he pulled you to his side once you sat. The god of the West absentmindedly brushed your arm or hand like he couldn’t help it, needing your skin like a lifeline. He looked at you similarly, leaning forward as you spoke, quietly nodding or humming under his breath, staring at you like you spoke words of newfound wisdom that were important to him. Words he held deep in his heart.

“I am sorry. You might think these problems in the village bellow you, as a god,” You murmured, bashful under his intensity. Setting your meal of fruits and other delicacies aside by your water glass, you let the god pull you into his side once more. “Drought and intrapersonal strife are not new in this world- certainly won’t end anytime soon either.”

“I ken what ye mean, Fawn,” Johnny kissed your hair as you turned into his chest, more so laying on top of the god. His hand slid down to your back, continually moving. “But Kyle was the one to start the drought. These are not normal climate patterns or political drama; they come from us because we protect ours. And you are ours, no?”

You blinked, lifting your chin to look him in the eyes. You understood the gods had wanted you. You wanted the gods in return. But the gods came and went with the seasons, only able to be in the village one at a time, Kyle had once told you. Not all gods were as peaceful as the four who loved and cherished one another. Allowing the gods to gather in groups in mortal lands would destroy people, animals, and the Earth.

“Have I not dedicated my life to the service of the gods?” You questioned. “I belong to you, but you are a god- gods. You cannot belong to me, a mortal.”

Soap hummed, kissing your forehead before saying, “Willne stop us from being loyal to ye. But you need to ask for help, Fawn. We canne help without mortal consent. If either of those haughty bastards lay a hand on ye again,” He tipped your chin up and brushed his nose against yours as he spoke. “I’ll kill them myself. I’ll hunt down their soul in the other world and kill it until nothing is left of them or their legacy.”

A breath caught in your throat. The god of Summer was serious, bluntly stating how he would end the most immortal parts of a human for you. You opened your mouth once, twice, three times to find the correct words to thank him, but it did not matter. His lip quirked into a smirk, knowing he had rendered you speechless. You scoffed quietly in disbelief yourself, smiling, as you reached forward and kissed him, crawling into his lap.

“Mmf, Kyle dinne say you were this eager,” Johnny teased between kisses, eagerly pulling at your hips to be closer.

“I learned it from Kyle,” You giggled, tugging the hem of your skirts to straddle the god of the West. Johnny laughed, finding his hands beneath your skirts, slithering to knee the softest parts of your legs and hips.

“That I believe, but no more eager than me. Might say he learned it from me, Fawn,” He muttered between kisses along your neck until his hands slid to your ass, groping you while pulling you forward, cunt flush with his aching cock. You inhaled sharply, looping your arms around his neck as you gave a gentle rock of your hips.

“Go on, Fawn, take what ye need,” Soap encouraged, pulling your robes from your body with reverence for the material and laying it on the floor with care. His eyes flickered to your breasts, hands itching up to cup your breasts as he mouthed at your nipple. Closing your eyes, your hips continued their gentle grind as he licked and sucked and nipped your skin. His hips started to roll, his cock pulsing under your slick heat.

“Wanna ride you, Johnny,” You muttered as you slid your hand to his cock, stroking him with slow, twisting motions. The god tilted his head forward, resting it on your neck as he groaned.

“Ye could ask to kill me, and I would say yes,” He chuckled.

“Wouldn’t want that. Whose pretty cock would I get to sit on, then?” You giggled. “Besides, you’re not the one I want dead.” Rising to your knees, Johnny moved his hands to your hips and leaned back to watch you sink on him with a groan.

“Ye, ye want someone dead?” Johnny cursed as he throbbed inside of your slick pussy.

“Thought it was obvious, darling,” You breathed, letting your hips come flush to his thighs.

Legs settling to his sides, you sat there momentarily, soaking in the feeling of being connected to the god. He radiated heat, chest pressing against your own until your hearts beat a wild back and forth, call and response. His hand slid along your spine as the other cupped your cheek to bring your lips to his.

Just as it had been with John and Kyle, when the sun rose, and the village awoke, so too would Johnny leave. The infinite curtain of the universe had once separated your two worlds of divinity and morality. Still, it had been risen for you to peek into, touching and tasking the tremendous edges of the divine.

“I adore you,” You whispered against his lips. “Come what may in the morning, I adore you.”

“Then fuck me like you mean it, Fawn,” Johnny teased, smirking. “Move those hips, Gaz won’t shut up about.” He smacked your ass, making you squeak and jolt, but his hands pushed your hips back down. Moaning, you tangled your hands in his hair as he bent his head to play with your tits.

“Fuck, Johnny,” You gasped as he moved a hand to your clit, following the tilt of your pelvis until that familiar heat simmered in your abdomen.

“Feel good, Fawn? Yer choking my cock, love.” Bending his knees, he planted a hand behind himself as an anchor and thrust his hips up, taking the breath from your lungs. Since he couldn’t rub your clit anymore, you rubbed yourself, clenching tighter and tighter as the heat in your body rose.

“Our good little mortal,” Johnny groaned. “So pretty dressed in her robes Price gifted you. Bet you would be prettier spread out on my altar, huh? Dripping on the cloth as I watch you gift me orgasms.”

“I,” You whined at a harsher thrust, hips chasing his for more.

“Dinne fash, Fawn. We all will get our orgasms from you, altar or not. You’re too beautiful not to be blissed out before us.”

Your body tightened. Wetness gushed around his cock as you came unexpectedly from his mouth. Your eyelids blurred with black and white streaks as blood rushed to your head. In all of it was Johnny’s steady thrusts and your slowing rubs, dragging you through your orgasm. Johnny grunted and came, watching his cum spurt along your folds.

You both laid back on the floor to catch your breaths, Johnny’s cock still standing at attention. Brushing your head down to the ends of your hair, he kissed you gently.

“We adore you too, Fawn. So much,” Johnny whispered. “Orgasms on our altar or not,” He joked.

“Well, that’s good. I’m sure plenty of women in the village would offer it if they knew.”

“Wouldne want them, just yours. Few in your village believe like you do. We don’t care for offerings made out of obligation.” Johnny stretched his arms up, bracketing them behind his head. “Price is thinking of how to set things right in your village. But it is difficult.”

“A good many things in life are difficult,” You agreed. “It just depends on the price you are willing to pay for peace.”

It came about Wednesday morning. You had escaped the temple days before with help from the god of Summer to find your home, thankfully untouched by the elders or their dogs. Remaining in your home or the wilds of the woods, clouds slowly gathered. Soap visited you as he could with gifts of food to sustain you and other necessities, so you did not have to go to market, but the darkness gathered.

When the storms came, winds carried the dust like leaves, pelting rocks at your walls. Thunder cracked open the skies and earth, shaking the home’s foundations. You prayed through the storm, thanking the god of summer for rain and praying that your village would not be flooded.

Most said it was an unfortunate coincidence when Phillip Graves’ home got struck and sparked like kindling.

Some said his home alight in the rain was as moving as the dawn of a new day, a reminder of nature’s might.

The smoldering embers of Phillip Graves’ home told another story as they pointed to the West, marking this as the divine punishment for his despicable behavior. That night, when Johnny entered your home, he gifted you a small cloth bag of charcoal, promising you the gods were not done working in your village.

Me again! Hope y'all enjoyed. Don't forget to comment/reblog.

If anyone knows how to format here, could you tell me how to get an extra space between paragraphs? Having everything scrunched together is driving me nuts. When I try manually, the format reverts to the original. Any tips/tricks are welcome :)

[radioactiverats]

thoughts on seekers locking landing gears and spiraling in the sky as a gesture of trust, similar to how eagles do that courtship spiral :3c or even just twirling in the air together a little too close. yes its probably really dangerous, but nothing beats being in total sync in the air

OH >:3c Absolutely in love with this. THE RITUALS ARE INTRICATE. I'm gnawing on this from various angles. Firstly thinking about this being a seeker-specific aspect of Conjunx Ritus (mutual Act of Devotion??) and it would honestly be so beautiful :,)

My mind jumped to this,, (angst warn)

---

In early stages of the war, when the exhilaration of following Megatron had worn off and bots were starting to realise their sparks weren't worth his doomed-to-fail commands (not enough experience yet..). When he was mostly relying on fear to keep his troops in order before he'd gained their full loyalty, there had been an Incident. You remember it like it was yesterday, because Starscream had looked ashen when he came back that night, and you'd never, ever seen that expression on his faceplate before.

You sit up, shuffling over to make room on the berth as Starscream plunks himself heavily down. After a few cycles of increasingly uneasy silence, he finally manages to speak.

"Two seekers have offlined."

His iron grip on the edge of the berth tell you the circumstances of their deaths were not straightforward.

"What do you know of Conjunx Ritus?"

You actually take a nanoklik to think about it, which Starscream appreciates given the solemnity of the situation.

"I know there's four acts?" You finally say, suddenly embarrassed about your naivety. To be fair, you'd never really had a chance to consider the possibility. Thankfully, Starscream just nods briefly.

"Correct. The fourth and final stage is called an Act of Devotion. Back on Vos, we seekers had a different way of performing it."

Starscream takes a klik to collect himself. You can't help but wonder if he has a Conjunx. If he does, he's certainly never talked about them.

"It's called a Death Spiral," Starscream finally says, voice horse. "Two seekers soar to the very fringes of the atmosphere and there, before the eyes of the universe itself, lock their servos and their landing gears before free falling back to planetside."

Beside him, you're enthralled to learn about this aspect of your own culture that you'd never had a chance to become familiar with. At the same time, you're picking up on a strange emotion that clogs his vocaliser and the faraway look in his optics, so you remain quiet as he resets his vocaliser.

"At the very last second," Starscream continues softly, "the two seekers pull up immediately before making contact with the ground."

It sounds incredibly dangerous, but you're enraptured by the idea. You know this because Starscream has made you practice something similar in the past, and there were a few times you genuinely thought you wouldn't make it through training in one piece even with landing gears. It undoubtedly took a lot of skill to harness the winds without the aid of thrusters, and even more courage and trust. You supposed that was where the love came in.

"It's... exquisite." Starscream offlines his optics, shakes his helm before turning to look at you, a ragged sort of pain spiking jaggedly through his EM field.

"I can imagine," You murmur quietly. It sounded like he was telling a story, back then. One from experience.

"Earlier today, two seekers engaged in a Death Spiral. But they didn't pull up." Starscream ex-vents raggedly, tilting his helm up to stare at the ceiling. "It was a pact."

For a klik you just sit there, frozen in silent horror. When he speaks again, it's through gritted denta. "Megatron has now enforced a ban against Conjunx Ritus between seekers."

You had a few guesses as to why. Seekers' valuable frame types to the Decepticon cause meant that Megatron couldn't afford to lose them. However, as increasing numbers of troops grew discontent with his leadership, Megatron as usual had decided to silence them through cruelty. It seemed that today's incident had been the last straw.

---

Outside the context of courtship rituals though, I see twirling together as a show of trust that anyone can do, from sires/carriers/sparklings to amica endura, cos flying and the skies are so deeply entwined with the seeker identity. Imagine just flying with your bro and the exhilaration of doing a complicated spin together, so close you can feel the heat of each other's engines on your plates before zooming apart again, the sound of your laughter carried on the winds. Must be so good to be in sync like that fr.

That being said, I think Starscream's determined to make sure cadet never feels alone in the skies, which is meant to be your home. Maybe in better times, I can see him joining cadet for training - the moves are a breeze for him, but it warms his spark to see you so happy while in the air. Not sure they get the luxury of the Autobots' "wanna go for a drive?", especially since his interactions with you must be under the guise of training - so Megatron won't see you as a target. Still, one must imagine Starscream happy.

Thank you for the lovely ask!!!!!!! Another yap... but in the process I have learned so much about eagles... I will put some sofas in my inbox so asks are received comfortably

[lvnleah]

figuring it out | beth mead.

this is a fic about a personal experience so please be kind with it <33

You’d always been the kind of person who jumped headfirst into relationships, never spending much time between them. Friends and family joked about how you were “boy-obsessed,” but it never bothered you much. It was just who you were—or at least, who you thought you were.

When you signed for Arsenal, your world expanded in ways you hadn’t expected. The team was welcoming, and you quickly found yourself surrounded by incredible women who shared your passion for football. Among them was Beth.

Beth was funny and unapologetically herself. She was one of the first people to make you feel at home in the squad. You clicked immediately, forming an easy friendship that quickly became close.

Beth being openly gay wasn’t a big deal to you. You had plenty of gay friends and teammates throughout your career, and it never crossed your mind to think about it any deeper.

At least, not until Beth.

The first time you realized something had shifted, it caught you completely off guard. You were at training, and the two of you paired up for drills. Beth cracked some ridiculous joke that had you doubled over laughing, and when you looked up, her grin was bright and carefree. Your stomach flipped.

“That bad, huh?” she teased, misinterpreting your reaction.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, you’re just—” You stopped short, unsure how to finish the sentence. Funny? Beautiful? Both felt dangerously true.

Beth tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. “I’m just…?”

“Annoying,” you shot back quickly, hoping your voice didn’t betray the chaos in your chest.

“Right,” she said with a mock glare, tossing the ball to you. “Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I beat you in this drill.”

That’s weird, you thought, brushing it off. It’s just because she’s so funny you tried to convince.

But the feelings didn’t stop. They crept in at unexpected moments—during team dinners, when she sat next to you, her leg brushing yours under the table; during training, when she scored a brilliant goal and turned to you with that mischievous glint in her eye.

You told yourself it was admiration, nothing more. You admired her skill, her confidence, and the way she seemed to make everyone around her feel at ease. It didn’t mean anything.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling match, the team gathered at a local pub to unwind. You found yourself sitting beside Beth, her shoulder pressing lightly against yours. She was in the middle of recounting some story, her hands animated as she spoke.

“And then Leah completely wiped out!” Beth laughed, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

You laughed too, though you hadn’t really been listening. You were too focused on the way her lips curved, the way her laughter seemed to fill the room.

“You okay?” she asked suddenly, catching you staring.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, looking away. “Just tired.”

Beth narrowed her eyes but didn’t push further, though you could tell she didn’t believe you.

Then came the away trip.

You and Beth shared a hotel room, and the evening was perfect in its simplicity. You ordered room service and watched a cheesy rom-com together, laughing at the over-the-top plot twists.

“That is the most unrealistic kiss I’ve ever seen,” Beth said, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen.

“You think you could do better?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Beth smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Oh, absolutely. I’d nail it.”

Your stomach flipped again, and you quickly turned your attention back to the movie.

At some point, she fell asleep, her head resting on your shoulder. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Her steady breaths and the warmth of her so close to you felt oddly intimate. And for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as straight as you’d always believed.

The realization terrified you. It kept you up all night.

You were twenty-five, surely you’d have realised you’d liked women before now?

The next day, you avoided Beth. Your usual easy banter felt strained, and when she asked if you were okay, you brushed her off with a weak excuse about being tired. But Beth wasn’t believing it.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” she asked during training, pulling you aside.

“Nothing's wrong,” you said, avoiding her gaze.

Beth sighed, her expression sceptical. “You’re acting weird. Did I do something?”

“No,” you said quickly, feeling guilty for making her think that. “No…It’s not you. I’m just…dealing with some stuff.”

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her voice softer. “But you know I’m here if you need to talk, right?”

You nodded, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to say anything more.

Back in London, you put distance between yourself and her. You threw yourself into training and found reasons to skip team outings. But Beth wasn’t one to be ignored.

She showed up at your apartment one evening with a bag from your favourite Chinese takeaway.

“You’ve been weird lately,” she said bluntly, settling onto your couch like she belonged there. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, grabbing the food and avoiding her eyes.

“Right,” Beth said, drawing the word out. “So, it’s just a coincidence that you’ve been avoiding me for weeks?”

You hesitated, the weight of her gaze making it impossible to keep up the charade. “It’s complicated,” you finally admitted.

Beth sighed. “I’m not going anywhere, you know. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Her words made your chest ache, and for a moment, you considered telling her everything. But the fear of losing her made you keep your mouth shut and just told her it had to do with an argument with your mum.

It all came to a head during a team night out.

The pub was crowded, and the drinks were flowing freely. You felt yourself relaxed for the first time in weeks—until you caught yourself staring at Beth. She was mid-conversation, laughing at something Leah said, and you couldn’t look away.

She noticed.

Her eyes met yours, and she raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a knowing smile. Embarrassed, you excused yourself and stepped outside, the cool night air doing little to calm your racing heart.

You heard the door open behind you, and a moment later, Beth was there.

“You’ve been acting so strange around me,” she said, her voice laced with concern. “What’s going on?”

The alcohol made you bolder than usual. You took a deep breath, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them.

“I-I like you, Beth. And it’s terrifying because I’ve never felt this way about a girl before.”

Beth’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you were sure you’d ruined everything. But then she stepped closer, her expression softening.

“It’s not so terrifying once you let yourself feel it,” she said quietly.

Beth’s words hung in the air, her voice steady yet filled with something deeper—something understanding. She didn’t look surprised or awkward. If anything, her expression softened further, like she knew exactly what you were feeling.

“It’s okay to be scared,” she continued, stepping closer. “I’ve been where you are.”

“You have?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her gaze steady. “A few years ago, before I came out. I was terrified of what it all meant—of how it would change things with the people I cared about. But the hardest part wasn’t figuring it out. It was not letting me feel it. I wasted so much time convincing myself it was easier to just…pretend.”

Her words hit you like a wave, a strange mix of comfort and fear swirling in your chest. You looked down, unable to hold her gaze. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Beth reached out, her hand brushing against yours. “You already have. Telling me? That’s the hardest part.”

You let out a shaky laugh, still staring at the ground. “I thought the hardest part was figuring it out.”

“That’s hard too,” she admitted, squeezing your hand gently. “But you don’t have to do it alone. And you don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

You hesitated, the weight of your emotions making it hard to breathe. But when you looked up, Beth was still there—calm, patient, and unshaken.

“Did it take you a long time?” you asked, your voice quiet.

She nodded again, her smile tinged with understanding. “Longer than I’d like to admit. But once I stopped fighting it, once I let myself feel what I was feeling…it got easier. And it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” you repeated, your voice cracking slightly.

Beth’s smile widened, a little teasing now. “You’re worth it.”

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, but Beth didn’t seem to need you to.

“Come on,” she said, tugging your hand gently. “Let’s go back inside before Leah starts a bet about why we’re out here.”

You laughed despite yourself, her words easing some of the tension. “Leah would absolutely do that.”

“Exactly,” Beth said with a grin. “And she’s terrible at keeping secrets, so we’d have the whole team asking questions by tomorrow.”

She started to pull you toward the door, but you hesitated, your hand tightening around hers. “Beth?”

She stopped, turning back to you.

“I don’t know where this is going,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “But I know I don’t want to lose you.”

Her expression softened, her fingers lacing through yours. “You’re not going to lose me. Whatever this is, whatever it becomes—I’m here.”

Her words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and reassuring. For the first time in weeks, the knot in your chest loosened.

“Okay,” you said softly.

Beth smiled, her grip on your hand firm but comforting. “Okay.”

With that, she led you back inside, her presence steady beside you. The noise of the pub seemed distant now, the weight of your fear lifting just enough for you to feel something else—something new. Something that felt like hope.

You started spending more time together, your bond deepening as your relationship evolved from friendship to something more. For the first time in your life, you weren’t rushing into love. Instead, you were savouring every moment with Beth, learning what it meant to truly fall for someone—not because you’re afraid of being alone, but because they make your world brighter.

It was subtle at first, the way things changed. You found yourselves lingering a little longer after team dinners, sharing small moments that felt big. There was the touch of her hand on your arm as she joked with you, the way she caught your eye during training, a shared glance that meant more than words could say. Slowly, you became more comfortable with the new dynamic between you. The fear, once overwhelming, now felt like something you could navigate together.

One night, after a quiet dinner at your apartment, the evening wound down with the two of you sprawled on your couch, the flicker of a movie casting soft light across the room. There was something different in the air—an unspoken tension that neither of you could ignore.

Beth looked at you, her eyes soft, a little vulnerable. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. The simplicity of it struck you, the way she didn’t need to say anything more but you felt the weight of her words.

You met her gaze, your heart pounding a little faster than usual. “Me too,” you replied, your voice matching the softness of hers. There was no rush, no pressure. Everything felt easy, and yet, there was a part of you that knew something was about to shift.

And then, without another word, you leant in. The kiss was at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, something inside you clicked. It was warm and tender, an undeniable pull between the two of you that neither of you could deny. Her hand moved to your cheek, the touch gentle as she deepened the kiss. The world outside your apartment faded, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, everything else irrelevant.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, Beth’s eyes locked on yours, a question lingering in them. “Are you sure?” she asked softly, her thumb brushing over your lips.

You nodded, the uncertainty gone as you stood up and pulled her off of the sofa. “Yeah. I’m sure.” You smirked as you pulled her to your bedroom.

The next morning, you woke up in Beth’s arms, the warmth of her body pressed against yours. For a moment, you didn’t move, just savouring the quiet, the intimacy of the moment. Your fingers traced absentmindedly over her skin, and when she stirred, her sleepy smile was the most contented thing you’ve ever seen.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, your heart full in a way it’s never been before.

You shared a quiet breakfast, talking about everything and nothing, your laughter filled the space between you. The ease of it all makes you realize just how much it felt like home.

Later, when you both got up to go to the kitchen, Beth brushed her hand across your lower back, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent warmth flooding through you, a reminder that this is real, that she’s real.

Beth turned to you as if reading your mind, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I don’t know where this goes,” she said, her voice serious but kind. “But I know I want to be here. With you.”

You looked at her, your heart swelling with emotion. “Me too,” you answer, feeling a contentment you never thought you’d experience. “Wherever it goes, I’m with you.”

A few months passed, and everything between you and Beth felt natural now—like breathing. You’d spent so much time together, both on and off the pitch, that it was impossible to remember what it was like before you met her. The bond you shared was undeniable, and to your surprise, the fear you once had about being vulnerable with her had completely faded. Beth had become your home in a way no one else ever had.

You’d kept things private for a while, just the two of you, figuring things out at your own pace. The other girls on the team had noticed the subtle changes—the way you were always paired up together, the way your smiles lingered a little longer when Beth was around. But no one had said anything, and you were thankful for that. For now, it was yours to hold onto.

But all good things, you knew, couldn’t stay hidden forever.

It started innocently enough—just a casual team dinner after a long week of matches. Everyone was laughing, chatting about their plans for the weekend, and you and Beth were sitting side by side, as usual. But that night, there was a different energy in the air, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Your teammates were more observant than you thought, picking up on every little glance you shared, every laugh that was just a bit too intimate.

Leah leaned in with a teasing grin. “So, you two gonna tell us what’s going on, or are we gonna keep pretending?” she’d said, her eyes flicking between you and Beth.

Beth froze for just a second, but then she laughed, a low sound that eased the tension. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d said, glancing at you. But her smile was too knowing, too soft.

Steph, who’d been sitting across the table, raised an eyebrow. “Come on, seriously,” she’d said, the corner of her mouth twitching into a grin. “It’s obvious. You two are practically inseparable.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest. You glanced at Beth, who was looking at you now with that same playful glint in her eye. There was no hiding it any longer.

“We’re not hiding anything,” you’d said, your voice a little too defensive for your liking. “We’re just…” You’d trailed off, unsure how to put it into words. But then Beth leaned forward, her hand brushing against yours under the table, and the simple gesture made everything click into place.

“We’re together,” she’d said simply, her eyes meeting yours with an unspoken promise. “Been for a while now.”

The room had fallen silent for a second, and then the teasing had started in full force. Leah was the first to break the quiet, a grin spreading across her face. “Well, about time! We all knew it,” she’d said, nudging you with her elbow. “You two are way too obvious to keep it a secret.”

You’d laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing as your teammates bombarded you with questions and congratulations. The teasing had been light-hearted, the kind of playful banter you’d come to love. But underneath it all, there’d been a sense of acceptance, of warmth. No one had judged, no one had been uncomfortable. They’d just been happy for you.

As the evening had wound down and the group had begun to disperse, you and Beth had ended up walking out together. The night air had been cool, and the city had been alive around you, but it had felt like it was just the two of you in the world.

“You okay?” Beth had asked, her hand brushing against yours as you walked side by side. Her voice had been soft, her usual teasing tone replaced with something more serious.

“Yeah,” you’d replied, glancing at her with a smile. “I’m okay. Actually, I’m better than okay.”

She’d grinned, a familiar twinkle in her eyes. “Good, because I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while now,” she’d said, her voice taking on a nervous edge you’d never heard before.

You’d stopped walking, turning to face her, the unease in her voice immediately catching your attention. “What is it?”

Beth had looked at you for a moment, her eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. Then, with a deep breath, she’d said, “Will you be my girlfriend?” The question had been simple, but it had felt monumental in the quiet of the night. “I know we’ve been taking our time, and I want to make sure you’re ready, but I don’t want to wait any longer to ask you. Because I—” She’d cut herself off, looking down at the ground briefly before looking back up at you. “I really want you to be mine.”

Your heart had swelled at her words, the honesty in her voice taking you by surprise. You’d always known how much she cared about you, but hearing her say it—really say it—had made your chest tighten with something new, something beautiful.

You’d taken her hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “Yes,” you’d said without hesitation. “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Beth’s face had lit up, a huge smile spreading across her face. “Really?”

You’d laughed, nodding. “Really.”

Beth’s smile softened, and her hand gently cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin as if she was memorizing the feeling of you. The moment hung between you, full of promise and warmth, and without thinking, you stepped closer to her. The city sounds faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet night.

Beth leaned in, her eyes flicking to your lips, and then back up to meet your gaze. You held your breath, the anticipation building between you, and in that second, everything seemed to fall into place.

With a smile that made your heart skip, Beth closed the distance, her lips pressing softly against yours. It was gentle at first as if testing the waters, but then it deepened, as if the world had finally caught up to what you both knew was inevitable.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling and just like that, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be—together.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Can you do a Jason todd x half dragon reader? (As in, she has wings and a tail, and personally, I imagine that her wings and tail are like a Night Fury's.)

With tooth rotting fluff and wholesome cuddles. And maybe a sun and moon dynamic, but Jason is the sun, and she's the moon? Also, if at all possible, I love it if she acts like a literal cat. Cat eyes and all.

Thank you for your consideration! ❤️

(This is going to become a common opening for me now) Sorry I took so long! I really hope this is what you're looking for! I only realised after I'd finished it that I'd put in a bit of a slow burn instead of an overload of cuddles and fluff, but I think that's because I was focusing more on the sun and moon dynamic 😅. Anyway, if you're not happy with it, just let me know and I can always try again 😅.

Jason Todd x Half-dragon!Reader

Warnings: none.

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

     The Red Hood perched on a rooftop, surveying the darkened alley for any hints of a shady deal. Thankfully, the drug dealers in the area seemed to have taken his threats seriously and stayed away from the routes he knew the teenagers in Gotham frequented on their way to and from the usual hangout spots in the city. Jason pushed himself to his feet, ready to call it a night and head home, but then he spotted something unexpected. He crouched down and watched curiously as something dark and elegant flew through the air, its outline barely illuminated by the moonlight that shone down on … scales? 

     Jason straightened, utterly confused by what he was seeing … but that only drew the strange creature’s attention to him. Jason stepped back as the creature flew towards him, but he knew he was much too slow to escape it if it intended on attacking him. So, he reached for his holster, ready to defend himself if it came to it. But then the creature stepped into the light and Jason found himself even more confused by the sight before him. 

     She stepped forward and studied the strange man curiously. He was wearing some sort of … helmet? A bright red one with little indentations for his eyes, it seemed. It looked quite ridiculous, really, but she supposed that only someone not entirely in his right mind would have been bounding across the rooftops of the city this late at night. 

     Holy shit, she was beautiful! With her (dark/light) and (curly/silky) hair, her smooth and (fair/tanned) skin and her long and toned limbs. And those stunning wings he’d caught a glimpse of before she’d folded them into her back? Wide and dark with just a hint of a shimmer as the moonlight reflected off of her scales. He abandoned his grip on the handle of his gun and clasped his hands behind his back instead, rocking back and forth on his heels as he tried to figure out what to say. 

     “Funny, I … I don’t remember the forecast calling for dragons tonight.” Jason chuckled awkwardly, then immediately berated himself mentally. F*ck. What an idiot! ‘I don’t remember the forecast calling for dragons tonight’? Ugh, she was probably going to set him on fire now and honestly? He completely deserved it. 

     She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his relaxed demeanour: people - if they ever managed to catch a glimpse of her in her true form - didn’t usually react in such a manner when they saw her. Usually, they’d start screaming in fear and begging for their lives. Or they’d try to shoot her down and hurt her with any sort of weapon they could find. Both options were horrible in their own way. But this man … He’d … made a joke? 

     Jason folded his arms across his chest and glanced at the ground, growing more nervous with each second of silence that passed. He was just about to open his mouth to let another idiotic sentence spill out when thankfully, she decided to fill in the silence instead. 

     “I don’t remember the forecast calling for little matchsticks running around in the middle of the night,” she retorted calmly, her intense gaze still suspicious. Jason let out a short bark of laughter - much to his own surprise - and relaxed slightly before striding slowly over to her. 

     “Oh, sweetheart,” the strange man chuckled softly, causing an unexpected shiver to run down her spine. “I can assure you: I am not little.” 

     Her eyes widened with surprise at his crude comment, but she couldn’t deny the curious warmth that bloomed in her stomach at his suggestion. She took a step back, nervous to be confronted by such an unfamiliar feeling, and stumbled when her foot met nothing but air. She reached out, her arms flailing desperately as she tried to catch her balance, then she found herself pressed up against a broad chest, her fingers grazing hard muscles as the strange man held her close to him. She held her breath as her heart thudded rapidly in her chest, her body heating up with excitement at their sudden proximity, then she ducked out from beneath his grasp, putting some much needed distance between them. 

     “I-I … T-Thank you,” she stammered out, studiously avoiding his gaze, “but … you know I can fly, right?” 

     He grinned beneath his helmet, delighted by how flustered he seemed to have made her, but his own breath caught in his throat when she finally looked up at him again with wide eyes. Shit, she was gorgeous. 

     “Oh, I know that,” he reassured her, his arms still folded across his chest so she wouldn’t forget how large and strong they were, “but you looked like you forgot that for a second there.” 

     He took a step towards her, bringing them close to each other again, then he bent over to murmur softly to her. “Unless … you were just looking for an excuse to get me closer to you?” 

     She sucked in a breath and clenched her fists by her sides, outraged by the accusation. But damn, she looked cute, a soft little blush colouring her cheeks without her even realising it. Jason snickered softly, thrilled by her adorable and unwitting reaction, but suddenly, he felt a sharp sting in the back of his head. 

     “Ow!” the man exclaimed, clutching the back of his helmet where she’d just smacked him with her tail. He straightened and spread his arms wide, shooting her what she could only imagine was an incredulous look beneath his helmet. “This is the thanks I get for helping you out? Shit. What the hell do you do to people who actually try to hurt you, princess?” 

     She bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed by how rude she’d been - but the hint of laughter in his tone let her know that he wasn’t really bothered by her reaction. 

     “Sorry,” she apologised, reaching out to curl her fingers around his bicep and rub her thumb against his arm. Jason held his breath, terrified that even the slightest movement might cause her to pull away again. But thankfully, his easy demeanour seemed to have put her at ease. “I … I’m just not used to … to people … being nice to me.” 

     Jason swallowed down the sudden lump that had formed in his throat and reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

     “That’s all right,” he reassured softly, his voice so gentle and understanding. Then he bent over again slightly, leaning towards her like he was about to share a secret with her. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know what that’s like either.” 

     She lowered her head as a snort of amusement escaped her mouth and Jason felt his heart melt at the sight of the cute little smile that lit up her face. She bit her lip, barely suppressing her smile, then let her fingers drift down to his forearm as she considered her next words. 

     “Well …” she began slowly, hesitating before speaking the words out loud. “Maybe … we could … figure it out … together?” 

     Her heart thudded rapidly in her chest as she waited for his answer. She didn’t know why, but something about this man just made her feel … comfortable. And that wasn’t a feeling she’d felt … ever? She dug her fingers into his arm as she chewed on her lip nervously, then she quickly released her grip on him, dropping her hand back to her side. “I mean-”

     “I’d like that!” Jason replied quickly, not giving her the chance to take it back. He knew how out of character it was for him to let someone in so quickly, but … there was just something about her that drew him to her. Maybe it was just that she knew what it was like to be outcast by society; to be forced into the darkness where no one would ever be able to hurt her. But whatever it was, he found himself curious to find out. 

     “I …” Jason began, trying to figure out how to contact her again. He scanned his surroundings, searching for some sort of idea, then it struck him. “Do you know that old bookshop on the corner of Apple and Kyle? The one run by that old man who’s just, like, somehow immune to every crazy thing that goes on in Gotham?” 

     She let out a soft laugh at his description and again, his heart melted into a warm puddle. 

     “I know the place,” she replied, doing her best to dampen the wide smile tugging on the corners of her lips. He was cute, but … she didn’t really know anything about him, so it was probably best if she continued to keep her guard up. At least until they got to know each other a little better. And besides, what if he turned out to be absolutely hideous beneath that helmet of his?! 

     “Great!” the man exclaimed, his enthusiasm starting to rub off on her. And he had such a nice voice - surely someone with such a smooth and buttery voice couldn’t be that hideous, right? “I’ll meet you there tomorrow night? Say … ten pm?” 

     It was late enough that most people would be off the streets, but not so late that she wouldn’t be able to get some rest before whatever she had planned for the next day. She flushed at his thoughtfulness and holy f*ck, that smile was going to lead him to some bad decisions someday soon. 

     “Sure,” she agreed, her tail flicking back and forth behind her with what he could only assume was excitement. Jason’s chest warmed at the thought and he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

     Her tail flicked lazily over the sofa, occasionally brushing against Jason while they watched a movie on his television. It had turned into a weekly ritual - making popcorn and putting on an old movie from a list they’d found online. They’d been hanging out for a few weeks now and X had gradually allowed herself to become comfortable in his presence, letting more and more of her dragon traits show around and interact with him. He’d never bring it up for the fear that she might change her mind and retract into herself again, but he knew how important it was that she was willing to share that part of her with him. 

     “Okay, but, why is he building a death ray on a boat?” Jason asked, lifting one arm from where he’d slung it over the back of the sofa to gesture to the TV in confusion. “Is he planning to, like, kill the ocean or something?” X bit down on a smile, refusing to encourage his embarrassingly cringy sense of humour, and took a moment to smooth her features back into a neutral expression before replying. 

     “Killing the ocean is quite a serious crime,” X pointed out calmly. “You would destroy entire ecosystems and cause massive damage to the Earth. It is quite a brutally vicious plan, I must admit.” Jason narrowed his eyes at the hint of approval he thought he could hear in her otherwise emotionless tone. But he knew she was just teasing him: he could see the tiny curl at the ends of her lips as she chewed gracefully on her popcorn and the way she kept trailing the tip of her tail across the back of his neck and shoulders was a dead giveaway that she wasn’t being serious. It was something she’d started doing quite often lately, but she never seemed to notice when she was doing it - like it was some involuntary reflex she wasn’t aware of or something. But that only made it all the more torturous; how she didn’t even seem to realise the effect she was having on him. He’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom numerous times on multiple occasions and she probably thought he had some bladder infection or something by now. 

     “Careful, princess,” Jason warned her, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl she’d perched carefully on her lap, “you’re starting to sound like you’re impressed by him.” 

     X lowered her head as the smile overtook her features entirely. She still wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he genuinely had no idea what effect it had on her whenever he made his voice all low and breathy like that. Surely a man as large and confident as him had to know how attractive he was! But … X snuck a glance at Jason, his attention back on the movie now, and recalled all the things he’d told her about what he’d been through so far. He probably didn’t have the room to think about shallow things like that. X cleared her throat, pushing the inappropriate thoughts out of her mind, and shuffled a little closer to her friend, closing the minute sliver of distance that remained between them. 

     “Well, his plan is rather creative,” she admitted, always so thoughtful with her words. “If it truly even is his plan anyway. It’s a rather intelligent one, capable of causing great damage. I must applaud him for it.” 

     Jason curled his fingers around her wrist immediately - like she was actually going to raise her hands and start clapping for him - and X’s breath hitched in her throat when she turned to face him and saw how close his beautiful moss-green eyes suddenly were to hers. “Mmm, you really don’t have to, princess. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t applaud a mass murderer for, well, mass murdering. Or trying to, anyway. I promise!”

     And she laughed - a full-on cackle that started in her belly and poured out of her mouth and into his ears. Jason grinned at the sound, always so happy whenever he managed to provoke the rare reaction out of her. She was always so serious - so carefully composed - and he loved it when he managed to fluster her enough to make her take an even longer pause between her sentences or just lose control entirely. 

     She glanced up at him and stopped suddenly when she saw that he was watching her. She quickly settled back into her seat, focusing her attention on her popcorn so he wouldn’t see the blush she could feel lighting up her cheeks. But when she slid her gaze over to him, he was still looking at her with that admittedly handsome smile on his rugged features. 

     She picked up a kernel of popcorn and popped it into her mouth, but it did nothing to hide the shy little smile tugging insistently on her lips. Shit, she was so! Cute! He wished she’d just hurry up and make a move on him already. He was pretty sure that she liked him in the same way that he liked her, but he’d come to know her well enough to know that any attempts to initiate a … more intimate relationship on his part would only end up scaring her off. But he could be patient - it wasn’t like he’d ever met anyone who’d made him feel so … comfortable before, so at ease with himself. X pulled her legs back up onto the sofa, resuming her straight-backed, cross-legged position. But her tail continued to run across his body and the grin continued to stay stretched across his face as they watched the rest of the movie. 

     Jason moved fluidly between the large metallic crates of the docks, taking out thugs left and right. They’d gotten a tip about one of Falcone’s new shipments coming in that night and he, Dick and Tim had volunteered to go after it. 

     “All that money and this is the best Falcone could get?” Jason joked, easily knocking out yet another goon. “I could take these guys out in my sleep!” 

     “Careful what you wish for, Hood,” Tim warned him, tossing aside another two goons trying to stop them on their way to their target. He clapped his hands together, dusting them off, then joined up with Jason when he turned the corner. 

     “Yeah, this seems a little … underwhelming,” Dick pointed out, still holding onto his escrima sticks as they approached the containers they’d been looking for. Jason shrugged, already thinking about what he and X could do with the extra few hours he had now that their mission had ended so early. Maybe they could watch another movie? But they always watched movies. She liked watching movies though. And he liked the quiet moments with her, their bodies brushing up against each other as they cuddled up together on his sofa - yes, they’d reached the cuddling stage. But she still wouldn’t confess her feelings to him! 

     “Ah, shit,” Tim sighed suddenly, breaking into Jason’s thoughts. Jason looked up and let out a tired huff when he found more than a dozen thugs slipping out of the shadows and surrounding them: ‘shit’ was right. He glanced over at his brothers, a moment of silent understanding passing between them, then the three of them dove into the fray. 

     “Did Falcone … get a cloning machine … or something?!” Dick yelled as he tried to stave off a seemingly never-ending stream of thugs. Jason didn’t respond, too focused on trying to defend himself from the group swarming him. But his efforts were futile and he soon found himself struggling to stay on his feet. 

     “What the f*ck?!” one of the goons yelled, dropping his baton as he stared at the sky in shock. The others turned to follow his gaze and panicked when they saw a strange creature swooping through the sky towards them. It blocked out the night sky with its large, bat-like wings and flicked goons away from them with its long, agile tail. 

     “What the hell is that?!” Tim screeched, trying to come up with a plan to deal with the terrifyingly powerful creature after they’d managed to overpower the army of thugs. It was official: Hell was empty and all the demons were in Gotham. 

     “That’s my friend!” Jason yelled back quickly, fighting to get to X’s side before either of his brothers could even think about hurting her. Dick nodded in understanding, convinced by the relief evident in Jason’s voice, and finally allowed himself to turn his back to X. Jason brought the handle of his gun down on the last goon standing between him and his friend, then he rushed forward to help her. “Took you long enough, princess. I was worried you weren’t going to show up this time.” 

     X felt her cheeks heat up at his mischievous tone as she swiped her tail at the last few stragglers of the pack, easily knocking them off their feet, and her eyes widened with horror when she heard a giggle escape her own mouth - a giggle! What was the world coming to?! She cleared her throat quickly, hoping Jason hadn’t heard it, and smoothed her expression before turning around to face him. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, his head tilted down to her slightly, and she just knew that he was wearing one of those smug grins he’d flash her every time he managed to provoke such unseemly reactions out of her. She rolled her eyes and cast her gaze to the ground as she waited for the flush to dissipate from her cheeks … but now she’d gotten the image of his smile stuck in her head! And Gods, he always looked so handsome when he smiled. 

     Jason’s heart thudded rapidly in his chest as he watched her try to hide her adorable reaction to him. She’d started joining him on his missions a few weeks ago, swooping out of nowhere just when he thought he was going to be overpowered by whichever lowlives he was fighting that night, and he couldn’t not look into it, right? Look into what it meant that she’d fly around the city, keeping an eye on him even when he’d told her they wouldn’t be able to hang out that night because he’d gotten stuck on another mission? Always saving his skin exactly when he needed her? 

     “Hey,” Dick greeted X cheerfully, holding a hand out to her in greeting. “Nice to meet you, friend of Jason! I’m Dick - his insufferably-better-than-him-in-every-way older brother.” 

     X studied his hand carefully as Jason punched his brother in the arm, still cautious about interacting so closely with anyone. But Jason seemed to trust him, so she was sure that she could too. She reached out and hesitantly took hold of his hand, shaking it gently before releasing it and burying herself into Jason’s side. 

     Jason grinned happily beneath his mask as he reached an arm around her waist and ran his fingers along her reassuringly. She’d been so averse to human touch when they’d first started hanging out, always so careful to keep at least an inch of space between them. He’d respected her boundaries though, silently reassuring her that she could trust him enough to allow herself to be vulnerable with him, and soon, she’d be seeking him out, quietly sauntering over to him and curling up against his side no matter what he might have been doing right then. He’d jumped at the opportunity at first, eagerly wrapping his arm around her and running his fingers along her surprisingly soft body, but she’d practically hissed at him the first time it had happened and he’d quickly learned that she had to be the one to ask for it first. Honestly, she was more like a cat than a dragon, sometimes. 

     “I’m Tim!” Tim introduced himself, coming up beside Dick. “The objectively best brother out of us all.” X let out a little snort at his declaration and Jason narrowed his eyes at his brother beneath his helmet, suddenly overcome with a wave of jealousy. But then X pressed herself deeper into his side and that victorious smirk returned to his lips. 

     “So, we done for the night? Great. See you tomorrow.” Jason waved them off as he spun X around to where he’d parked his bike and X snickered softly when she heard Tim and Dick’s exclamations of confused outrage behind them. 

     “So,” Jason began, getting onto his motorcycle, “you wanna get some ice cream, princess? As a thank you for saving my life? Again?” 

     X fiddled with the helmet he’d handed her, taking a moment to examine the rush of delight that swept through her at the thought of laughing over ice cream with him. She liked spending time with him - loved it, in fact - but she still couldn’t figure out why he seemed to enjoy it so much too. She didn’t have much to offer him, after all, with her strange build and her serious demeanour and her quiet nature. But he always seemed so happy when he was with her; so relaxed, like there was something about her that made him feel comfortable enough to just be himself. “Is there anywhere that sells ice cream this late?” 

     Jason sucked in a breath as her hands travelled up his body, running along his chest before landing on his shoulders and gripping onto them. Then he shook his head and forced himself back down to reality. “Uh, yeah! McDonald’s is open twenty four hours, right?” 

     X squeezed his shoulders gently in agreement and the two of them sped off into the night.

     X tucked her wings tightly against her back as she took a careful step into the darkened warehouse. Jason had sent her a text earlier cancelling their usual movie date and asking her to meet him at one of his secret warehouses by the docks instead. His message had been vague, so she didn’t know what to expect once she’d arrived, but … she trusted him. X stopped just inside the entrance and was about to shift her eyes so she could look into the darkness, but then a light ‘click’ sounded and suddenly, the room was illuminated by strings of fairy lights draped elegantly from the rafters and around the beams. X smiled as she surveyed the wide, open space, and her delight only grew when she saw a cosy little nook in the corner decorated with piles of pillows and blankets and a projector set up to display movies on a blank wall. 

     “So, what do you think?” Jason asked from behind her. X turned around to face him and found him rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited for her reaction.

     “What is this, Jay?” she breathed, that adorable little smile still stretched across her normally stoic features. Shit, he loved her smile. 

     “I-” he paused to clear his throat, trying to get rid of some of the nervous energy running through his veins: he’d never done such a big gesture for anyone before. But he’d never liked anyone as much as he liked her! Ugh! “I made it. For you. So you wouldn’t need to worry about people spotting you anymore anytime you wanted a flight.” 

     Oh Gods. She wasn’t completely certain, having never experienced such an emotion before, but she was quite sure that she was in love with him. He was just so sweet and so thoughtful, always so patient and gentle with her. X reached up to wipe away a stray tear before it could fall down her cheek, then she clutched her hands close to her chest and took a step towards him. 

     Jason rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly, unused to the adoring look on her face. It wasn’t that she’d never hinted to him how she might have felt about him, it was just that she always kept such a tight hold on her emotions, never letting anything she felt show on her face. He waited patiently as she continued to walk slowly to him, until finally, she’d buried herself in his chest, snuggling up against him and waiting expectantly for him to slide his arms around her. Jason chuckled softly and did as she wanted, wrapping her up comfortably against him. 

     “Why …” X pulled back from him slightly, a little confused, but still with that smile lighting up her face. “Why would you do all this for me, Jason?” 

     “Because I like seeing you happy,” he replied easily, as if the answer was as simple as that. “It makes me happy.” 

     “But …” X paused to giggle softly and Jason’s heart swelled at the way she let it linger instead of quickly swallowing it down like she usually did. “But that’s so silly!” 

     “Why is it silly?” Jason asked, bending over to brush his nose lightly against hers. X laughed again and slid her arms around his neck, letting the front of her body brush up against his. 

     “Because … Because it’s not fair,” she pointed out, stretching onto her toes to rest her head on his shoulder. “How can I make you so happy when I don’t even do anything?! I’m just … I’m so boring!” 

     She pulled back to look at him, her lips pushed out into a cute little pout, and Jason let out another soft chuckle. “You are not boring, X. You like the same music as me, the same movies as me, you’re killer at bowling and you fight even better than Dick!” 

     Her chest warmed at the face that he hadn’t mentioned her dragon abilities at all: he liked her. Half-dragon or not, he would have liked her anyway, it seemed. X lowered her head as her cheeks flushed with happiness then, before she could second guess herself, she bounced up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. 

     Jason let out a muffled exclamation of surprise, caught off guard by the sudden action. Then he bent over to make it easier for her to reach his mouth. X giggled softly as she kissed him and he didn’t know how much time had passed when they finally pulled away from one another. 

     “So … you wanna watch a movie?” Jason suggested, gesturing to the cosy corner he’d set up for them. X nodded eagerly and pulled him over to the pile of pillows before pushing him down and settling herself in his arms. 

     “Should we watch a romcom tonight?” she asked, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. Jason grinned and leaned forward to give her a few quick pecks on the lips. 

     “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

[svnluns]

⋆ truth or date (part 2)

You couldn’t help but blush at Billie’s words. She noticed your expression change, and a mischievous smile spread across her face. Deciding to make this round of Truth or Dare even more entertaining, she moved closer to you and gently pulled you down onto the floor. You lay back, your body tense with anticipation, as she climbed on top of you, her eyes locking with yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

She leaned in and began kissing you, her lips traveling from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her hands roamed freely, teasing and caressing, making your breath hitch. As her mouth found your neck, she nibbled gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Then, her hands slipped lower, parting your legs to press against the damp fabric of your panties. You gasped as her fingers began to explore you, massaging your core and making you arch your back, unable to suppress the moans that escaped your lips.

You had no idea she could make you feel this way—so desired, so utterly consumed. It was more than a crush now; it was an overwhelming need that had been lying dormant, waiting for this moment. When she slid your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside you, your loud moan filled the room, your body responding to her touch with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed.

She moved deeper, her beautiful blue eyes never leaving yours as you clung to her, pulling her closer. She removed your shirt and bra, her gaze drinking in the sight of your bare chest. Her hand cupped one of your breasts, her lips descending to tease and suck at the sensitive skin, driving you wild.

Billie’s touch sent waves of pleasure crashing through you. Her kisses, her caresses—it was all intoxicating, a sensation you couldn’t get enough of. Your breaths grew ragged as her fingers moved deeper, exploring every inch of you with precision and care. Your body quivered under her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you tried to ground yourself in the whirlwind of passion and desire she was evoking.

“Ah, fuck. Please don’t stop. Keep going until I can’t take it anymore,” you cried out, your voice breaking between moans as her name spilled from your lips.

“I won’t stop—as long as you’re a good girl for me,” she whispered in your ear, her lips brushing your skin as she kissed your face.

You nodded eagerly, willing to do anything to keep her hands and mouth on you. “Please,” you murmured, “Please don’t stop. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I hope you know how to keep a promise,” she teased, her voice low and sultry as she moved lower, her kisses trailing down your body. When she reached your thighs, she paused to look up at you, her eyes filled with desire. Then her tongue flicked over your clit, drawing a loud gasp from you. She pinned your hands above your head, holding you in place as she continued to pleasure you.

Her fingers joined her mouth, and you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking against her. The sensation was overwhelming, building into an intense crescendo that left you breathless. Your body trembled, your head falling back as you let out a final loud moan. Tears streamed down your face as you came hard on her fingers, the release leaving you utterly spent.

“You definitely know how to keep a promise,” she murmured with a smirk, leaning up to kiss your lips tenderly, leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.