#and then i was like you know what this would be perfect for
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nanaslutt · 19 hours ago
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minors and ageless blogs dni
nanami kisses the side of your thigh slowly, sucking the skin into his mouth, making you clench the muscles in your thighs. you have to bite back a moan at the tease.
“don’t hold back your noises from me, i want to hear you, sweetheart.” another kiss is planted on your inner thigh, closer to your clit this time. you accidentally do as he says, a whine spilling free.
you’re rewarded with his cheeks dimpling with his smile. the most handsome sight one could ever see. “feeling good?” you nod, locking eyes with his when he flicks his up to meet yours. “good. i love your thighs” kiss “so soft” kiss “so beautiful” suck.
you hissed in through your teeth, tangling your hand in his hair. it’s as soft as it looks, and the touch makes him purr against your skin. the vibrations tingle through your body, finding your clit with ease.
“ken… please. no more teasing” your voice is wrecked, pathetic, breathy. his pupils dilate at the sound of it, and you know you’re about to get exactly what you want.
“i could never deny you anything, honey.” you almost cry when his plush lips wrap around your sore clit. thighs twitch unconsciously around his head, and your legs shake from where you stand. his large, warms hands slide up the backs of your thighs, cupping your ass.
moan after moan spills from your lips when he shakes his head back and forth while flicking your clit with his tongue, a long groan in his throat, only adding to the sensation.
“f-fuck kento!” he nods, lapping his tongue to catch the wetness at your entrance between your folds. the feeling is euphoric. “you taste exactly how i imagined. i should have done this ages ago.” your toes curl where you stand when he dives back in to suckle on your clit perfectly.
his mouth is so warm and so perfect, it’s like he knows exactly how to get you off. you regret not asking kento out to dinner years ago, if this was what you were missing out on. one of his hands leave your ass to join his tongue in playing with your pussy, and you have to put extra effort into staying on your feet.
“i’ll be careful. i want to stretch you out with my fingers for a while before we have sex.” he whispers against your clit before pressing a kiss to the sensitive nub. “i’ve only read about this, so let me know if it doesn’t feel right.” what? he’s never?
your brain nearly short circuits when he slides his fingers inside you and crooks them forward repeatedly, rubbing against that sweet spot inside you and sending you spiraling. “is this your gspot? i thought it would be harder to find. you get really right when i touch you here.”
as if demonstrating, he did it again. “fuck! yes kento! this- you’ve never fingered anyone before?” you asked breathlessly, digging your nails into his scalp. he shook his head, eyes locked on where his fingers were disappearing inside of you like he was mesmerized.
“no, i’ve never gone down on anyone either. how are you feeling? is it good for you?” jesus. what a fucking question. you nodded dumbly, pushing his handsome face back against your clit, you hummed when he found your clit and sucked eagerly, timing his sucks perfect with his thrusts. his gorgeous eyes bore into yours, silently begging for a response. for praise. for reassurance that he was doing good.
“yes. so good. don’t stop.”
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sttoru · 1 day ago
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outlaw!toji who initially kidnapped you for money, to rob you from your valuable belongings, eventually forms a strange attachment to you. he can’t help but feel a faint twinge of guilt for robbing a pretty and delicate little thing like you.
so, he decides to let you return to your beloved family in town. though he does not let you go completely.
every now and then when toji is passing by the town you reside in - avoiding sheriffs and other people whom could possibly recognise him from the wanted posters plastered on every wall - he looks for you.
of course, you freak out the first time he sneaked up on you. however slowly yet surely, you let your guard down. the outlaw didn’t harm you in any way after all.
“how ‘re ya doin’, princess?” toji would always greet you with that signature, cocky smirk of his, leaning against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chiseled chest or his hands on his worn gun belt.
sometimes you reply quickly, but on other occasions you indulge him and continue the conversation. it’s often at night that he visits you, so you have less of a chance to get caught together.
you don’t know when or how toji found out where your family’s house is. he simply started showing up at your balcony once in a while, just to catch up. after a couple times, you even let him in.
those nightly visits swiftly turned into something more intimate. it feels so wrong yet so right. a dangerous criminal who’s killed hundreds, who had even kidnapped you one day, being invited into your bed— how scandalous.
though you can’t help it. his callused yet warm hands that touch your skin, his burly body that presses you into the mattress just right, his slightly chapped lips that nip at your flesh and leave marks. . . you don’t regret a thing.
especially when you’re both catching your breath after an intense encounter. toji’s muscular body, filled with countless of scars, blankets yours easily. his arms cradle you to his bare chest afterwards and all you can do is relax against him.
“i think i really hit the jackpot with ya, aye? may not have robbed ya of yer stuff that day, but i got ma prize money one way or ‘nother,” the rugged outlaw grins as he lights up a cigar and holds it between his lips.
you can’t even tell him off for smoking in your room. toji’s fingers massage your scalp so good to the point you’re putty in his hands. the scent of tobacco is also comforting. it’s one you associate with him, because he always smells like it. it’s always a combination of tobacco, nature, horses and gunpowder.
toji knows that he has to leave before anyone comes checking in on you, but he can’t leave you when you look so adorable, clinging onto him like a lifeline.
every time he visits, it’s the same exciting story.
when toji is in a more sentimental mood, he takes you out on a ride. he settles you on the back of his horse, speeding off into the sunset, letting you enjoy the view outside of town.
the beautiful freedom that comes with the life of an outlaw. the freedom of seeing nature in all its glory. you get to experience it all.
at times, when you’re out and about, he takes his chance and teaches you how to handle a gun. toji knows you’ve been spoiled rotten by your parents growing up, so you probably haven’t touched a gun a day in your life. that’s where he comes in.
“oi, watch out. yer gonna blow my fuckin’ face off, girl,” toji grunts with a faint chuckle as he notices your clumsy hand gestures while holding his revolver. it’s endearing, truly. he doesn’t yet understand why it warms his heart to see you try and shoot at the targets he set up.
what the outlaw loves more than that, is when you’re both resting against a large oak tree, with his head on your lap. especially after he gets back from a long and successful heist in a far away town.
toji often lets his cowboy hat cover his face while he naps and uses your thighs as the perfect, plush pillow. the gentle breeze only adds to the perfect moment.
when you take his stetson and put it on your head instead in a innocent gesture, he lazily opens one eye and raises a brow in amusement.
“oh? that yer way of telling me y’ want a ride?” toji teases before pinching your cheek. he loves seeing that flustered expression on your face when you’re once again reminded of the cowboy hat rule he taught you the other day.
toji never misses the opportunity, however. he sits up and leans back against the tree trunk, patting his thick thighs which he spreads lightly.
“hop on f’ me then, pretty. show me how good of a cowgirl y’ are, yeah?”
well, briefly said, it’s never a dull moment with outlaw!toji.
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lupinqs · 3 days ago
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CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader
☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader.
☆ ━ word count: 5.4K
☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame
☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)
☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write
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PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.
And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.
She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.
And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.
So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.
Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.
At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)
From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.
And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.
It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.
You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.
But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.
With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.
Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.
Right into you.
The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.
She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.
The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.
So much for not getting distracted.
After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.
Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.
And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.
She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.
You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”
Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.
But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.
There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”
You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”
There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.
“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.
You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”
Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.
You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”
And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.
She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.
IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.
Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.
She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.
“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.
Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”
But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”
“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.
“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”
You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”
Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”
KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.
There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.
“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”
You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”
She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…
She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”
There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—
Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”
Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”
Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”
Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.
As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.
Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.
It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.
“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.
“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.
There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.
“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.
You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.
“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.
Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”
You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.
Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”
You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”
Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.
After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”
You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”
Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”
You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.
There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”
Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”
You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”
The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”
You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”
Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.
She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”
You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”
She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”
It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.
And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.
Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”
The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”
You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.
“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”
It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.
Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”
It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.
The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.
Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.
The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.
Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.
It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.
When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.
Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”
Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.
“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”
The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.
“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.
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pucksandpower · 18 hours ago
Text
She’s a Menace
Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: Max has to deal with quite a distraction while on his sim (or in which there are definitely worse reasons to crash than you on your knees in front of him)
Warnings: 18+ content
Note: Max Verstappen is a four-time World Drivers’ Champion, so I leave you with this in celebration
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Max squints at the screen, the blue glow of the monitors highlighting the concentration etched on his face. The steady hum of his sim rig fills the room as he grips the steering wheel, eyes locked on the track ahead. The chat is already buzzing with excitement, a stream of messages flowing faster than the race itself.
He leans forward slightly, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pushes for the perfect line through the next corner. This is supposed to be a casual race with Team Redline, but Max never does anything halfway.
From the corner of his eye, he catches a flicker of movement. His heart stutters, but he keeps his gaze trained on the screen. Just focus. But then you’re there, slipping under his desk with the kind of stealth that makes him question how well he really knows you.
“Hey, what are you-” His voice is low, more of a mutter to himself as you settle in the cramped space, your hand resting lightly on his knee. He almost laughs at the absurdity, but then he feels the warmth of your palm through the fabric of his jeans, and his breath hitches.
“Max?” Your voice is sweet, innocent. The kind of innocent that makes his blood rush south.
“Not now,” he whispers harshly, trying to sound firm, but the effect is ruined by the way his voice catches on the last word. He clears his throat, gripping the wheel tighter. “I’m in the middle of a race.”
“I know,” you say, and he can practically hear the smile in your voice. “That’s why I’m here.”
His eyes flicker down for just a second — just a second — but it’s enough for him to miss his braking point. The car skids off track, and the chat explodes in a mixture of surprise and good-natured ribbing.
“Shit,” he mutters, jerking the wheel back to recover. He can hear his teammates’ voices through the headset, but they’re a distant buzz compared to the sensation of your fingers trailing up his thigh.
“What are you doing?” He hisses, trying to keep his voice low enough that it doesn’t pick up on the mic.
“Just helping,” you reply, your breath hot against his leg as you shift closer. “You seemed tense.”
“Tense?” He echoes, his voice tight with disbelief. “You’re not helping.”
“Are you sure?”
You lean in, your lips brushing against the inside of his knee, and he sucks in a sharp breath. His grip on the wheel falters, the car veering dangerously close to the edge of the track again.
“Stop,” he manages to say, but it’s more of a plea than a command. “Seriously, I-”
The next corner is coming up fast, too fast. He needs to focus, but then you lick a slow, deliberate line up his thigh, and it’s like every coherent thought evaporates from his brain. His foot jerks on the pedal, and the car slams into the wall with a crunch that makes him wince.
“Max, what the hell happened?” One of his teammates asks through the headset, genuine concern in his voice.
“Uh,” Max swallows, trying to keep his voice steady, “I think Sassy’s messing around. You know how she gets.”
“Sassy?” You repeat, muffling a laugh against his leg. “Really?”
Max doesn’t dare look down at you, his face burning as he tries to get the car back on track. “Yeah, Sassy,” he mutters under his breath. “She’s …you know …”
“A menace?” You offer, sliding your hand higher until it’s dangerously close to something that would definitely get picked up by the mic.
“Distracting,” he corrects, his voice cracking just slightly. “Very distracting.”
“Hmm.” You hum thoughtfully, your fingers tracing patterns that make his pulse race. “I thought you were good at handling distractions.”
Max clenches his teeth, trying to will away the flush spreading across his cheeks. “This is different,” he bites out, his knuckles white on the wheel. “You’re-”
He cuts off with a strangled noise as your lips brush against the zipper of his jeans. His head falls back for a split second, eyes squeezing shut. The chat is a blur, his teammates’ voices barely registering over the pounding of his heart.
“You okay there, Max?” Someone asks, clearly picking up on his unusual silence.
“Yeah, fine,” he says, forcing the words out in a breathless rush. “Just — Sassy’s really being a pain tonight.”
“Oh, Sassy’s being a pain, is she?” You tease, your fingers deftly working at his zipper.
Max’s heart leaps into his throat as he feels the fabric give way under your touch. “Don’t-” He starts, but it’s too late. You’re already working him free, your breath ghosting over his skin, and he feels like he might actually die right here, on stream, in front of thousands of people.
He can barely see the track now, his vision blurring at the edges as you take him into your mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, the wet heat of your tongue drawing a low, involuntary groan from his chest. He tries to bite it back, but it slips out before he can stop it.
The sound of his own voice brings him back to reality with a jolt, and he scrambles to mute the mic before anyone can ask questions. He fumbles, nearly dropping the wheel in the process, but finally manages to switch off his headset.
“God, you’re going to kill me,” he gasps, his voice hoarse as he looks down at you.
You pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re doing great, by the way. Really holding it together.”
“Barely,” he mutters, his hand slipping from the wheel to tangle in your hair. He knows he should stop you, that he should be focused on the race, but the way you’re looking at him — like this is all some delicious game — makes it impossible to think straight.
“You’re such a good driver, Max,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the tip of him, and his whole body jerks in response. “But I wonder how good you are at multitasking.”
“I’m not,” he breathes out, his hand tightening in your hair. “I’m really not.”
“Sure you are.” You smile against him, and the sensation sends a shiver down his spine. “You just need a little more practice.”
“I’m going to crash again,” he warns, but it’s weak, almost a whimper as you take him deeper.
“Mmm,” you hum around him, and his hips buck involuntarily, the wheel spinning out of his grip as the car careens off the track once more.
He bites down on his lip so hard he tastes blood, but he can’t stop the moan that rumbles in his chest. “Fuck,” he mutters, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk like a lifeline. “Fuck, fuck-”
You pull back just enough to let your breath cool the wet skin, and his whole body shudders. “Max,” you purr, your voice a sinful mix of sweet and sultry. “What would Sassy think if she knew you were blaming her for this?”
“She-” His breath hitches as you lick a slow line up his length. “She would definitely not approve.”
“Maybe you should apologize to her later,” you suggest, and then you’re taking him back into your mouth, and he can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but fall apart.
“Yeah,” he gasps out, the word barely audible as you suck harder, your hand sliding up to cup him in a way that makes his vision go white at the edges. “Definitely. Later.”
You hum in agreement, the vibrations driving him to the edge faster than he’d like to admit. He knows he’s losing control, knows that anyone paying attention to his stream can see how erratic his driving has become, but he can’t bring himself to care.
All that matters is you, your mouth on him, your tongue working him in ways that make his toes curl inside his socks. His head drops back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself drown in the sensation.
“Fuck, you’re-” he chokes out, the words getting lost in a strangled moan as you take him even deeper, your nose brushing against the base of him. He feels the world tilt on its axis, the car crashing into the wall once more, but it’s a distant concern, something he can’t even begin to process right now.
His hand tightens in your hair, guiding you, urging you on as he teeters on the brink. “I’m close,” he warns, his voice a desperate rasp. “So close-”
But you already know, you always know, and the way you speed up, the way you suck him in like you’re starving for it, pushes him right over the edge. His whole body tenses, his hips jerking as he comes with a guttural moan that he knows would have been embarrassing if he weren’t so far gone.
“Fuck,” he breathes out again, the word shaky as you continue to work him through it, your movements slow and gentle now, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from him until he’s a boneless heap in his chair.
He’s vaguely aware of the game still running on the screen in front of him, the car idling against the wall, the chat a blur of confusion and speculation. But all he can think about is the way you’re licking him clean, your tongue gentle and deliberate as you savor every lingering moment of his release. His breath comes in shallow gasps, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through his body, leaving him utterly spent.
“Jesus,” he finally manages, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. His fingers slip from your hair, trailing down to rest on your shoulder. “You … I don’t even know what to say.”
You look up at him from beneath the desk, your eyes sparkling with mischief and something darker, more intimate. “Say thank you,” you suggest, a teasing lilt in your voice as you place one final kiss on him before tucking him back into his jeans.
Max chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair. “Thank you,” he echoes, but it’s more than just gratitude — it’s awe, admiration, an acknowledgment of just how thoroughly you’ve unraveled him.
“You’re welcome,” you purr, crawling out from under the desk with a grace that seems unfair, given what you’ve just done to him. As you straighten up, you brush a hand over your clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles as if you haven’t just reduced him to a quivering mess.
Max watches you, still dazed, as you take a seat on the edge of the desk, your fingers idly tracing the lines of the virtual steering wheel on the screen. “You should probably get back to your race,” you say casually, though the satisfied smirk on your lips tells him you know exactly what kind of chaos you’ve left in your wake.
“Race?” He blinks, trying to reconnect with reality. The reality where he’s supposed to be streaming, where thousands of people are watching, where he’s just crashed his car in the most embarrassing way possible. “Oh, fuck.”
You laugh softly, clearly enjoying his distress as he scrambles to put his headset back on. The game is still running, but the car is totaled, and his teammates are probably wondering why he’s been completely silent for the past few minutes.
Max clears his throat, trying to summon some semblance of professionalism as he un-mutes the mic. “Sorry, mates,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he glances at the chat, which is now filled with endless variations of what happened? “Uh, Sassy … Sassy knocked something over. Had to deal with that.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end, followed by the sound of someone barely holding back laughter. “Sassy, huh?” One of his teammates finally says, amusement clear in his voice. “Sure it wasn’t something else?”
“Yeah, mate, you sounded a bit — preoccupied,” another one chimes in, and Max can practically hear the grin in his voice.
Max shoots a glare in your direction, but you just smile sweetly, completely unrepentant. “Just a bit of a distraction,” he says, forcing a laugh that he hopes sounds natural. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Mmhmm,” his teammate replies, clearly unconvinced. “Well, whatever it was, you might want to keep it in check. You’re not exactly in winning form right now.”
Max groans internally, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll focus, promise.”
But as he puts his hands back on the wheel and tries to get back into the game, his thoughts are still swirling around what just happened, how thoroughly you’ve taken him apart and put him back together. He can feel the ghost of your touch on his skin, the way your lips felt against him, the sound of your voice whispering his name in that sinfully sweet tone.
You, however, seem entirely unbothered by the chaos you’ve caused. You hop off the desk and start to leave the room, but not before pausing in the doorway to shoot him a look over your shoulder.
“Oh, and Max?” You say, your voice just loud enough for the mic to catch it, ensuring that everyone in the stream hears. “Next time, don’t give our cat the credit for my handiwork.”
Max’s eyes widen in horror as the implications of what you’ve just said sink in, and the chat goes wild with speculation. He can’t believe you’ve just thrown that grenade and walked away, leaving him to deal with the fallout.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his face burning as he hears the barely suppressed laughter of his teammates through the headset. He quickly fumbles to mute his mic again, before the noise from the chat can start bleeding through his headphones.
From the other side of the house, you can hear Max still muttering, cursing under his breath as he tries to explain away what just happened, though it’s clear from the chaos in the chat that he’s not fooling anyone. You’re pretty sure “Sassy” is going to become the new code word among his fans for a long, long time.
You can’t help but smile to yourself as you walk away, already planning the next time you’ll disrupt his perfectly controlled world with a bit of your own brand of chaos. Because you know Max — no matter how much he complains, he secretly loves every minute of it.
***
Max clicks out of the game, his heart still racing — not from the competition, but from the aftermath of your little stunt. His teammates had ribbed him mercilessly for the rest of the race, making it impossible to focus, and he’d finally had to give up entirely when it became clear he was more liability than asset.
But that’s fine, he thinks, as he heads to your shared bedroom. You’d wanted to play, and now it’s his turn.
He pushes open the door quietly, the soft sound of your breathing drawing him in. You’re sprawled out on the bed, lounging in a silk robe that clings to your curves in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. One leg is draped lazily over the edge, your foot brushing against the floor, and your head is tilted back against the pillows, eyes half-closed in what looks like pure satisfaction.
Max pauses in the doorway, taking in the sight of you. The low light casts a warm glow over your skin, making the fabric of your robe shimmer as it catches the subtle movement of your body. You don’t see him at first, too caught up in your own thoughts, and he uses that moment to just watch you, to drink in every detail.
He’s still not entirely sure how he got so lucky, how he ended up with someone who could turn his world upside down with just a look, a touch, a whispered word. But he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You’d taken control earlier, had driven him to the brink of insanity with your teasing, your lips, your tongue … but now, now it’s his turn.
“Enjoying yourself?” He asks, his voice low, almost a growl, as he steps into the room. You startle slightly, eyes snapping open, but then you relax, a slow, lazy smile spreading across your lips.
“Immensely,” you reply, stretching like a cat, your robe parting just enough to give him a tantalizing glimpse of what’s underneath. “Though I was wondering when you’d finish up in there. Took you long enough.”
Max’s eyes narrow, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re awfully confident for someone who just crashed me into a wall in front of thousands of people.”
You laugh softly, completely unrepentant, as you prop yourself up on one elbow. “You needed to be taken down a peg. I figured I was doing the world a favor.”
“Oh, is that right?” He crosses the room, his gaze dark and intent, and you shift slightly under the intensity of it, though you don’t look away. “Well, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”
He doesn’t give you time to respond before he reaches the walk-in closet, pulling open the door and flicking on the light. The space is meticulously organized — suits, Red Bull-branded shirts, shoes all lined up with military precision. But it’s the back corner that interests him tonight, the small, nondescript box that he keeps tucked away behind a row of neatly hung jackets.
He retrieves it with a sense of satisfaction, running his fingers over the smooth wood before he opens it. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, are the toys he’s collected over time. Some are simple, others more complex, but each one has a purpose, a particular use that he knows will drive you wild.
He hears you shift on the bed, a small rustle of fabric as you sit up a bit straighter, curiosity piqued. He doesn’t turn around just yet, letting the anticipation build as he selects a few choice items, things he knows you love, things he knows you can’t resist.
When he finally turns back to you, the box in hand, your eyes widen slightly, and you bite your lower lip — a telltale sign that your confident façade is starting to crack. Good.
“What are you planning to do with those?” You ask, though your voice wavers just enough to give away the thrill that’s running through you.
Max sets the box down on the bed beside you, his gaze never leaving your face as he leans in close, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “I’m going to make you beg,” he says simply, the words a promise, a challenge.
Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down, your eyes locked with his as you try to maintain some semblance of control. “You can try,” you whisper, though the defiance in your voice is already weakening.
He doesn’t respond with words — he doesn’t need to. Instead, he reaches for the silk tie at your waist, slowly, deliberately tugging it loose until the robe falls open, exposing the soft, bare skin beneath. You shiver as the cool air hits your body, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes rake over you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.
Max takes his time, tracing a finger down the line of your collarbone, over the curve of your breast, the flat plane of your stomach. You watch him, transfixed, your breathing growing shallow as his touch ignites a fire beneath your skin.
When he finally reaches for one of the toys — a sleek, slim vibrator that he knows you love — you feel a surge of anticipation, your body already responding to the thought of what’s to come.
He clicks it on, the low hum filling the room, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips as he trails it along the inside of your thigh, just teasing, just enough to make you squirm. “Max …” you breathe, your voice shaky, and he smiles, a slow, wicked smile that sends a thrill of both excitement and nervousness coursing through you.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lips. “We’re just getting started.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he presses the vibrator against you, right where you’re most sensitive, the sudden burst of pleasure making you cry out, your hips bucking instinctively against the pressure. But Max holds you in place, his grip firm, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches your every reaction.
“Look at you,” he whispers, almost to himself, his voice filled with something akin to awe as he takes in the way your body responds to his touch, the way you can’t help but arch against him, your hands clutching at the sheets. “So beautiful …”
You can’t form a coherent response, your mind too clouded with pleasure, too focused on the way the vibrator is driving you closer and closer to the edge. But Max isn’t done with you — not even close.
He switches to a lower setting, drawing out the sensation, making you writhe beneath him as he pushes you to the brink but refuses to let you fall over it. “Max, please …” you whimper, your voice barely more than a breath, but he only chuckles, clearly enjoying the way you’re already coming undone beneath him.
“Not yet,” he says, his tone teasing, as he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss that’s as much about control as it is about passion. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he swallows your desperate moans, the vibrations from the toy matching the rhythm of his kiss, each one driving you closer to that sweet release.
But he doesn’t let you have it. Not yet.
He pulls back, the vibrator slipping away just as you’re about to tip over the edge, leaving you gasping, trembling with need. You make a small sound of protest, your body arching towards him, but he only smiles, a look of pure satisfaction on his face as he watches you struggle to catch your breath.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” He asks, his voice low and husky as he reaches for something else from the box — a small, delicate clamp that he knows will drive you wild. He catches one of your nipples between his fingers, rolling it gently before attaching the clamp, the sharp sting of it sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you.
You cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets as the sensation takes over, and he doesn’t give you a moment to recover before he attaches the other one, his hands firm and steady even as you squirm beneath him.
“Max … Max, please …” you beg, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them, but he only shakes his head, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you — flushed, panting, utterly at his mercy.
“Not until you’re screaming for me,” he says, his voice a promise, a threat, as he turns the vibrator back on, this time at a higher setting, pressing it against you with enough force to make you see stars.
It’s too much, too intense, the pleasure building and building until you’re on the verge of breaking, but Max holds you there, right on the edge, refusing to let you fall until you’re practically sobbing with need.
“Please, Max, please …” you cry, your voice broken, desperate, and finally, finally, he relents, his hand moving faster, the vibrations intensifying until you’re shattering beneath him, your entire body convulsing with the force of your release.
You scream his name, the sound ripping from your throat as the pleasure crashes over you, wave after wave, until you’re left trembling, barely able to catch your breath. Max doesn’t let up, his hand steady, relentless, pushing you through one orgasm and into the next until you’re nothing but a quivering, incoherent mess beneath him.
When he finally pulls back, turning off the vibrator and removing the clamps with a gentleness that’s at odds with the intensity of what just happened, you’re too spent to even lift your head. Your body feels like it’s made of jelly, every nerve ending still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Max watches you for a moment, his eyes dark and unreadable, before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“You did so well,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, as if he’s trying to bring you back down from the high he just sent you to. His fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, and you lean into the touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to steady your breathing.
You’re too tired to respond, too worn out to even think about moving, but Max doesn’t seem to mind. He moves off the bed, and you hear the soft rustle of fabric as he picks up the discarded toys, the quiet click as he puts them away in the box.
When he returns to your side, he’s holding a bottle of water, and he gently lifts your head, pressing the cool rim of the bottle to your lips. You take a sip, the water refreshing as it slides down your throat, and Max gives you a small smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a tender gesture.
“Feeling better?” He asks, his tone lighter now, teasing, as he sits down beside you on the bed. You nod, still too exhausted to speak, and he chuckles softly, clearly pleased with himself.
“You’re not going to try that again anytime soon, are you?” He raises an eyebrow as he leans back against the headboard, one arm draped casually over your shoulders. There’s no real edge to his words, no anger — just a quiet amusement, as if he’s already looking forward to the next time you challenge him.
You manage a weak smile, your head resting against his chest as you let out a soft, contented sigh. “I might,” you murmur, your voice still a little shaky, but there’s a hint of defiance in it, a spark that tells him you’re not completely defeated.
Max laughs at that, a deep, rich sound that vibrates through his chest and into your ear, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. “We’ll see about that,” he says, his voice warm and full of affection.
For a while, the two of you just sit there, wrapped in the comfortable silence that only comes after something so intimate, so intense. Max’s hand never stops moving, his touch soothing and grounding as he holds you close, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.
Finally, after what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, you let out a soft sigh, tilting your head up to look at him. “You’re too good to me,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the words are full of gratitude, of love.
Max’s gaze softens, and he leans down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a gentle caress. “I love you,” he says simply, and the words are so full of sincerity, of emotion, that they take your breath away.
You smile against his lips, your heart swelling with warmth as you snuggle closer, feeling safe, cherished, and utterly content. “I love you too,” you whisper back, and for a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, blissful bubble.
Max holds you like that for a while longer, until your breathing evens out, and you start to drift off to sleep. He shifts slightly, pulling the covers up over you and tucking them in around your body with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.
Just as you’re about to fall asleep, you hear him murmur something, his voice low and full of affection. “Rest now,” he says, his fingers brushing over your hair in a soothing rhythm. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
And with that, you finally allow yourself to relax completely, letting the warmth of his embrace and the soft, steady beat of his heart lull you into a deep, peaceful sleep.
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luveline · 5 hours ago
Text
𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬
You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]
c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆
It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair. 
He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please. 
You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?
You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type. 
Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?” 
“Right there with you.”
You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers. 
“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?” 
You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.” 
“Yeah?” he asks. 
“Mm-hm.” 
He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?” 
“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.” 
“So you’re in need of company?” 
You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?” 
“What are you drinking?” 
“Cherry spritzer.” 
“Can I buy you another one?” 
“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.” 
“What’s that?” he asks. 
You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much. 
The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.” 
Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference. 
“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started. 
“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”
His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast. 
“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek. 
You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest. 
You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold. 
“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”
He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side. 
“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely. 
“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.
“Spencer.” 
“Yeah?” 
“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over. 
Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel. 
“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly. 
“Just this.” 
“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.” 
So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything. 
Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows. 
He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.
“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear. 
You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone. 
You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back. 
He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee. 
It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are. 
“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.
You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?” 
He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. ���When did that happen?” 
“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.” 
“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.” 
Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder. 
“That was amazing.”
“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed. 
How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone. 
“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can. 
“Nowhere.” 
“So where have you been?” 
He takes a breath. “Turn around?”
You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose. 
“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek. 
How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. 
You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs. 
“You okay?” a voice asks. 
You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face. 
His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.” 
You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.” 
“I know, I’m  sorry.” 
You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes. 
“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently. 
“I’ll leave soon.” 
“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.” 
“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving. 
“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.
His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?” 
He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?” 
You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?” 
“Just while I was waiting for you.” 
“What do you do?” 
“What?” 
“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror. 
“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.” 
“Like, statistics?” 
He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly. 
Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.” 
“And you’re good at it.” 
“I’m good at math, yeah.” 
“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?” 
His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss. 
You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away. 
“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.” 
“Me too.” 
“And you’re okay?” 
“What do you mean?” 
“Nothing hurts?” he asks. 
“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.” 
“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb. 
“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day. 
“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.” 
You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.
It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes. 
For a pause, you just sit. 
This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good. 
“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask. 
“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. 
“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.” 
”Really?” 
“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.” 
“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again. 
You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?” 
“We might have to stand very close.” 
You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to. 
— 
Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride. 
Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked. 
Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other. 
Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way. 
When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details. 
Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles. 
“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”
“You’re never disgusting, let me–”
He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him. 
“Spence, can you–”
“It’s going up your nose–”
“–stop, holy s–”
He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?” 
“You wanna share?” 
“Yes!” 
“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.
He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way. 
“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly. 
“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.” 
He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand. 
“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face. 
“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?” 
“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.” 
You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.
You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.  
Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling. 
“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says. 
You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?” 
“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”
“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”
“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.” 
“You know what shampoo I use?” 
“I deduced it.” 
“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”
He smiles shyly. “I just can.”
“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?” 
“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”
He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.” 
“You distract me, too.” 
You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”
“I don’t really want you to.” 
You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.” 
He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend. 
“I like you too,” he laughs. 
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah, of course I do.” 
“Not just…” 
“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing. 
“Should we go out, then?” 
“We do.” 
“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.” 
Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight. 
“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly. 
“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.” 
“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.” 
“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.” 
“And if I don’t?” he asks. 
“Then we get married in Vegas.” 
“You could meet my mom.” 
“I’d love to meet your mom.”
“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks. 
“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.” 
“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin. 
You stroke his cheek with your nose.
Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough. 
“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.
You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile. 
“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks. 
“I can’t remember.” 
“I can remind you?”
“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.” 
“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted. 
“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.” 
Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all. 
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆
thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3 
662 notes · View notes
azulpitlane · 1 day ago
Text
american wedding l ln4
summary: lando dating zak brown's daughter leads to a lot of pr disasters, like getting married in vegas
notes: can be read as a part two to boss' daughter or a stand alone
masterlist
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 38,329 others
yourusername wasnt gonna drink tonight but i miss my bf like a mf.
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user real tbh
user i miss u like a mf. show ur face at a race already queen.
user no cause it's been forever since she went to one and i miss the chaotic content with her and lando
user you know damn well you were gonna drink regardless liked by yourusername
landonorris i miss u more😓 just drop out of uni and come to all my races
zbrownceo excuse me?
landonorris JUST A JOKE! ha ha ha.
user LANDO😭😭
landonorris but i just booked a flight to nyc because of this post btw. see you this weekend😈
yourusername i was about to start crying until i realized what emoji you used😐
oscarpiastri dont we have be at the mtc this weekened??
yourusername SHHHH OSCAH
landonorris yeah oscar shhh
user poor oscar is always getting tag teammed by those two
user lando getting that in-law privilege by skipping important meetings to see his boss' daughter😭
user i love this relationship's dynamic theyre so perfect for each other
f1gossip
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23,432 likes
f1gossip Lando and Y/n's Brown's weekend in New York City! It seems Lando skipped his trip to the MTC to be with his girlfriend where they were pictured clubbing and walking around the city multiple times.
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user IN THE CLURB WE ALL FAM
user he finally met his match lol
user lando is a clingy drunk confirmed✅
user i really want to know what their drunk conversations sound like
user hot take but if she wasnt zaks daughter most of you guys would hate her
user shes making him blow off important meetings so he could be with her? she sounds like a distraction from racing
user girl what- her dad is literally the ceo? if there was an issue im sure he wouldve let them know bffr
user zak brown is probably tired of these two😭
user is partying all they do together?
user no cause she lowkey seems like a bad influence
user i agree🫣 shes always posting herself partying and drinking, thats not wag material
user she might be a pr nightmare but i stand with my canceled wife💜
landonorris
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landonorris nyc to vegas🛩 aaaand i brought the bad influence with
tagged yourusername
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user the caption IM-
user nah hes lowkey dissing y/n haters😭
user how did he bag someone 10x cooler than him
user the bottle of alcohol and the vape, she really is ready for vegas
user Y/N'S BACK!!!
yourusername vegas aint ready for us
landonorris no they arent😈
yourusername enough.
user no hate to the other wags but y/n is truly the realest one out of all of them
user fr she truly is just a normal girl in her twenties
oscarpiastri ����
yourusername what is that suppose that mean OSCAH!!! my father will hear of this
oscarpiastri ok calm down draco malfoy
user why is there lowkey beef between y/n and oscar LMFAO
yourusername he hates my swag!!!
oscarpiastri she brings a lotttt of energy to the garage when shes here🙂
user im crying at oscars response😭😭😭 hes had enough of yn and lando
user idk if her holding a bottle of alcohol is appropriate to post!
user pls grow up omg
yourusername
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liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 59,329 others
yourusername postt race partoes >>>>>> the avtual race
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user THEE party girl
user i need to party with them so bad
user lando.jpg when???
user the typos😭 shes already drunk
user yup theres already videos of her and lando drunkly dancing together all over twitter
user yeah and oscar was in the background of those videos looking miserable LMFAOO
user oh to be a wag partying in vegas with lando
yourusername posted a story
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user i voted fall to my knees and cry btw…if you even care
user um this is a random question to ask at 3am…
user what stores are even open rn😭😭
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oscarpiastri Y/N??? IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU AND LANDO FOR LIKE A HALF AN HOUR AT THE CLUB AND YOURE NOT EVEN HERE??
oscarpiastri if you guys dont pick up your phones i swear to god…
oscarpiastri of course i get stuck as babysitter to the two most drunk people at the party
yourusername heY oscah😊😊 sendingg u my lpcation now cuz we need a witness so come ASAPPPPPP
oscarpiastri WITNESS FOR WHAT?
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danielricciardo if this means what i think it means, youre both so dead🤣
user babes didnt u just post at the club like an hour ago
yourusername
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liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 1,392,321 others
yourusername do u guys thonk my dad will be mad thaT oscar walked me down the aislee?
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user OH MY GOD??
user mclarens pr team are going to have a rude awakening in the morning😭
user shes never beating the bad influence allegations i fear
user crazy to think that this time last year he was flirting with her through her instagram comments😭
user and now theyre married omg i remember everyone was teasing lando but he truly got the last laugh
carlossainz55 i dont know if i should congralute you guys or be concerned?
user mind you, its almost four in the morning in vegas
danielricciardo getting married is crazy, you should be at the club
yourusername u mak a grrat point! otw now
mclaren we cannot congratulate until the boss says its okay sorry😕
zbrownceo answer your phone.
oscarpiastri sir, i would like it to be known that she blackmailed to be there
yourusername okay snitch!
zbrownceo im not kidding y/n
danielricciardo ouuu youre in trouble
user its so over for them
user zak finally putting his foot down with these two LMFAO
f1gossip
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25,532 likes
f1gossip Wedding celebrations at the club! Seems like the newlyweds are back partying after their wedding announcement was made just a few minutes ago. Congrats to them?
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user everyone is freaking out and theyre literally at the club im cryingg
user "congrats to them?" is literally all of us rn😭
user they are not real omg
user zak is probably blowing up their phones and they do not care at all lmfaooo
user truly winning the idgaf war
user real question is are they getting an annulment once they sober up???
user i really wanna know what zak will make them do
f1gossip
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20,329 likes
f1gossip Newly weds update! The two were seen this afternoon leaving Las Vegas with Zak Brown himself. Neither were seen wearing wedding rings, possible divorce?
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user well that was fun while it lasted
user damn they beat kim kardashians record of the shortest marriage
user at least theyre still dating😭
user they definitely got yelled at lmfaoo
user cant tell if zak is happy or angry that his daughter married norris considering how much he loves him
user oh hes def happy about it but not happy they posted it LOL
user good for him for getting an annulment. shes a mess
user and hes not? bye theyre both messy
landonorris 📍qatar
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landonorris annulment? we're in our honeymoon
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user oh so theyre fr about this marriage😭
user does bro know theres a race on sunday
user they look so in love im honestly really happy for them
yourusername we beat the fraud marriage allegations💜
mclaren now thats its been approved by the boss, congratulations to the best papaya couple theres ever been🧡
user wow so zak approves! im shocked tbh
user i wish i couldve seen their reactions the morning after the wedding
yourusername ohhh we didnt remember any of it tbh but were happy now!
user LMFAO OMG....
user she finally got her ring!! and here you guys were thinking they got a divorce bc she didnt have one
danielricciardo never thought id see the day
yourusername me neither tbh
landonorris excuse me WHAT
landoupdates
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50,242 likes
landoupdates Lando was questioned on his Vegas wedding in new interview.
"We decided not to get any annulment or anything and just keep this Vegas marriage as sort of like a promise for a real one in the future." 🧡
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user omg😭😭they are too cute
user not to be dramatic but i would honestly cried if they broke up
user no literally they mean everything to me
user "i really do think y/n is the one" DO YOU HEAR ME SOBBING
user he gets so smiley when y/n is brought up ughhh me and WHO
user and to think y/n has haters is crazyyy this man is so in love with her
user if oscar isnt the best man ill riot for him, he was there for the og wedding
user imagining them trying to convince zak to not get a divorce is the cutest but funniest thing ever
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more notes: has anyone seen anora?? it inspired this haha A FRAUD MARRIAGE!!!
629 notes · View notes
maybefae · 2 days ago
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Messages From Your Forever Person
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Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3
Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.
Just a note!: I don’t like doing general love readings because I don’t feel like they are as personal as, well, personal love readings, but I had the urge to make one. Your forever person can be what you consider your significant other, long-term partner, or future spouse.
Tips!
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|Pile 1
Tarot: King of Pentacles, The Fool, Ace of Pentacles, Three of Pentacles, Black Numen, Six of Wands, Knight of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Ace of Swords, The Star, Ten of Cups (Bottom of the Deck:
Oracle: Uplift, Forgiveness, Consistency
You know how the planet Jupiter is the defender of our solar system? How Jupiter pulls asteroids away from Earth and even take the hits itself? That’s the energy of this person. As soon as I pulled the cards, I got the feeling of comfort from a strong and stable energy. I must say, this person also has a comforting smile and as soon as you look at them, your nerves will instantly be soothed. They feel like they are standing beside me, hands in pockets, as they watch me write this. They could have a favorite cream cable knit sweater that they like to wear as soon as there’s a chill in the air. 
They are very patient and have the mentality of “it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be done”. You could suffer from anxiety, but I feel this panicked and shaky energy coming from you. I don’t know if you used to be yelled at or punished for doing something wrong by a parent or partner, but it feels like you are terrified of doing anything around your forever person at first. And there are cards here that are telling me that you have been hurt in the past. It seems like this could be the first safe and healthy partner you’ve had. This could just be the first partner you’ve ever had and now you're 20/25+ years old and you don’t know what you’re doing, which brings out this anxiety towards this relationship. But your partner here holds a lot of patience and comfort for you! They really love you. Honestly, this is really fucking close to unconditional love (which is rare). They hold no judgement towards how you operate now because of your past, absolutely not. And they want you to know that. It’s like they have told you this but you continuously don’t believe them, which does hurt them a little ngl. The Jupiter reference could be what this was for. They will take the small hurts you do but persistently and consistently show up until you believe in their love for you. And it’s not that you don’t know, but there is a voice in your head that makes you doubt often even if there isn’t proof of those thoughts. 
God, pile 1, they love you. They are such a steady energy. They are also very stable in the physical and spiritual realms. They are a very hard worker and would do anything to help your dreams become a reality. Your dreams are their dreams and vice versa. They really just want a peaceful home life with you honestly; they like the simple things. I think a good personality reference would be the husband to the pregnant wife in Kiki’s Delivery Service. 
They really want me to drive home the message of forgiving yourself, pile 1. Sure, your actions or thoughts do hurt them sometimes, but they don’t really want that to be the focus. They want you to be aware that they do but in a way to help you heal. They aren’t your past partner, they aren’t going to react like your parent, they aren’t playing you just because you haven’t had a partner. It’s heartbreaking that you would dare to even compare them to others. Maybe this person hides a lot of their hurt not to upset you and this is a hurdle that they have to work through. It’s only really coming out towards the end so that’s why I want to say that. 
I think this message was to let you know how the beginning part of your relationship will be like. They just want to make you aware of it, maybe so you can comfort the insecurities you have so the beginning won’t be as difficult.
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|Pile 2
Tarot: Ten of Swords, Queen of Pentacles, Six of Swords, The Hierophant, Three of Pentacles, King of Cups, Three of Cups, The Sun, King of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, The High Priestess, The Moon
Oracle: The Moon (again!), Wept Breath, The Chariot, Vulnerability, Divinity, Sacred
Before I pulled the cards, I heard six months to a year or eight weeks. I don’t like to do timing but that’s what I heard. So if that feels right to you, then take it. Or somewhere between a waning crescent and a waning gibbous moon.
Honestly, they are just happy to be here. I think they were ready to give up on love after so many failed attempts and heartbreak before you came along. And you honestly could’ve sworn off love too but you saw them and was like “I want that one.” This is the black cat, golden retriever pile. Raven and Beast Boy, Maleficent and Diaval, or Roger Rabbit and Jessica Rabbit. 
The vulnerability oracle strongly comes from your side. It does come from theirs but they admit that they were practically enchanted by you. “The idea of giving up on love was a stupid idea on their part, sorry your highness, that was my bad.” They just folded and they would happily fall under any love spell you send their way. They are obsessed with you, in the most healthy way possible. They are banging the table with their fist, credit card in hand. There’s an energy that you were in the same room with them and kept your eye on them because you were drawn to how “pathetic” they were. You couldn’t help yourself so you gave in. There’s also an energy of “of course, you’re the fated one to be with me.” You two end up talking and you could kinda bust their balls a little, tease and be a little sassy, but they keep up with you and “pass your little test.” 
I don’t think they were necessarily a player in the past but they had quite a few lovers and most of them played your person. They could have the vibe of one just from how cheeky and flirty they are but those thoughts are soon squashed with you seeing how pathetically devoted they are to you. They are just a lover at their core, they like to keep things light and fun, but they also know how to be serious and fix any issue that comes up in the relationship. They would truly do anything for you. This could come from an insecurity of not getting the love they needed from their past partners so they are overcompensating to keep you in love with them. :( 
Are these the older daughters/siblings that I usually get? There could be something here that they have a pretty put-together family and you’re the first partner that the family actually loves. You could honestly get the love and care that you missed out on with their family. 
God, I keep seeing your partner looking at you with the biggest heart eyes and they do this all the time, which could make you so flustered. This could be one of the things about them that honestly gets you to melt a little and lower some walls you have up. This feels like a love that you probably didn’t get to experience in your teen years but this will span on until you're old and wrinkly. They will carry the “honeymoon phase” through the rest of your lives. You know those videos that people make of their parents being in love and fooling around? That’s you two! 
There’s just an overall feeling of excitement coming from them. They could talk about you a lot to their friends and family, but not in a bragging way. They are just so happy with you and thinks you’re the most beautiful person they have ever seen. I heard “A wish I didn’t know I was wishing for.”
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|Pile 3
Tarot: Two of Cups, King of Swords, The Hermit, The Fool, ? Dreamworld (reconnection), Six of Wands, Two of Wands, Four of Pentacles, Five of Cups, The Chariot (rest, feeling at home)
Oracle: Serenity, Sincerity, Respite, Surrender
If this resonates, this could be a lover you had that had passed away.
For others, this pile is for the ones who believe in lifetimes before the one you’re currently living. Energy is recycled after all. This is the more mystical pile. 
Your person here has a large energy and could come off as cold and intimidating. They have come to me wearing all black, leather boots, and darker hair. They have very muscular arms and a broad chest, very tall. They could be goth. This could’ve been them in the past life or that is how they show up in this lifetime. They have their head down as they stand beside me and there is an energy of wanting you to know they are here. Their soul does watch over you and guide you but they may stay quiet and don’t give you many signs or messages that they are around. But I suppose they came through today to say hi! 
They are very protective over you and they think you’re a ray of sunshine that graces their life. They aren’t one to show many emotions nor really speak them out, but you accept this and know that you are deeply loved. They know you doubt that they even exist or if they are coming or if they love you and so they are very hesitantly showing up through this reading to say that “I’m on my way” and “just sit tight.” They could have a deeper voice. They could give you reassurance if you ask for it, by the way! They want me to specify that so they don’t come across as heartless. I think you’re the only one that they truly love with their whole being and they do make it known, but if you need a little verbal reassurance, all you gotta do is ask. They are a cat person.
There is something here that you may have lived in timelines where they never got to exist in, like it has been a long while since you two have been together. I heard, “I waited for the right time.” There could’ve been timelines where your lives probably wouldn’t have worked together or it was going to end in tragedy “like the one I met you in.” So they had to wait. And they watched over you through each timeline. Everytime you didn’t get to live a happy lifetime or if your partner of any lifetime didn’t treat you right, it would make your person terribly upset and they couldn’t do anything about it. They are very upset while they show this to me, angry and frustrated. But this lifetime is the one where you two will finally be together. 
You could feel like you are meant to be someone, like a little void spot where your soul is…and you could be waiting out until you meet this person. You actually could’ve done this for the past three lifetimes (which you probably lived more happily than others). And this could’ve been a lifetime where you planned to do the same thing, but your person is coming in. You will be suspicious but you will probably be very enamoured by them. They are different than others and stand out to you. I think they like to rub your back because I just got the feeling of someone doing that to me. They let you be your bubbly and lively self and actually love that about you. They have complete trust in you. They may be on the more quiet/shy side but you two work together perfectly. You two can rest easy in this lifetime. 
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Dividers: @inklore
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jinwoosbabyboo · 3 days ago
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Is This a Tragedy?
You're an actor and you finally got your big role in a hit TV show. Unfortunately your character only made it to Season 2 before they killed you off. This is how I imagine the lads men react to watching that scene [Requested by: Anon]
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𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎
calm cool and collected on the outside; whole time he's really having an internal breakdown
grips your hand a little tighter in his as the scene progresses
“are you dying? is this a tragedy?”
is very aware that it’s just a show, but can’t stop his heart from pounding at the thought of losing you
rubs his eyes to keep himself from tearing up
stares at you after the episode ends “What?” “The thought of losing you has always terrified me; watching you perform that scene does not help” “it’s my job Zayne besides im right here”
finds himself staring at you more often just trying to commit every feature of yours to memory
never willingly watches that episode again
skips over that part every time or just turns the show off “You still can’t watch it?” “No”
praises you for the phenomenal performance although he claims it was a little too realistic
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𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕
is great at slipping in and out of character so he was the one helping you with your acting skills
sits up straight when he realizes what's happening “is this the scene you've been keeping secret?”
falls out immediately in your lap
bawling his eyes out goes as far to curl up in your lap
would be so proud of not only you, but himself as well for helping you perfect your craft
“Do I get credit as the acting coach?” “Yes would you like a reward?” “You know I do”
Although he’s proud of you he can’t bring himself to watch the episode again also doesn't continue watching the show in general "they killed off my favorite character how can I continue watching it now?"
keeps pushing you to work on crying on command so if you need to cry for your next roll it’s even better
acted out the scene with you at home for fun once and had a mental breakdown
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𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛
Fell asleep in the middle of the show and missed it
“just watch it when you get a chance” “no replay it”
immediately turns the show off in the middle of the scene
“im not watching this” “Xav…” “No”
drills you with questions about why you didn’t tell him you were dying in that episode
“I can’t watch that don’t make me watch it” "You're being a little dramatic don't you think?"
pouts, pouts, and pouts some more
won’t watch it no matter how much you beg
although he never finished watching the whole scene he holds your hand tighter now these days
asks for a warning next time so he can prepare himself …… to fast forward
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𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜
watches quietly giving away nothing
“You even shed a few tears for your own scene?” teases you for crying at your own death scene “it looks different after the editing okay!”
won't admit it, but one time was enough
“it made you sad didn’t it?” “Well I don’t take pleasure in watching you die onscreen sweetie” “im alive though” “Let's keep it that way”
weasels his way out of watching the scene again
his voice slightly wavers whenever you bring it up
avoids eye contact when you tease him about it
held you tighter at night for at least a month
Bonus: the twins bawled their eyes out and tackled you to the ground with a bone crushing hug
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choslut · 1 day ago
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# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)
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$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k
warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names
NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!
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Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.
When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.
“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock. 
And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”
Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.” 
Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty. 
She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest. 
“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.” 
“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”
You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.” 
“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress. 
“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.” 
“Vi…”
“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”
After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?” 
“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”
You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”
“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.” 
You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”
“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?” 
Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.” 
“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.” 
You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.
“Vi, please.” 
“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.” 
You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely. 
“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”
You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”
All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.” 
Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need. 
“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.” 
Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else. 
“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?” 
“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”
“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?” 
In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-
You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”
“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance. 
Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard. 
“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”
Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”
“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole. 
“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”
She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”
“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.
“Vi...”
“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.
She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”
And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.
When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.
Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”
“Mhm.”
“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”
You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.
Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”
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© this work belongs to choslut. do not copy, translate, repost or feed my work into any regenerative ai system.
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shrimpybbq · 3 days ago
Text
green thumb
synopsis: high school gf loves her veggie garden and so does charlie. rafe is clueless and lacks a green thumb, but does his best to be supportive.
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The warm sun shone through the windows of the Cameron house, it’s rays casting a golden hue across the spacious living room that currently housed half of the aforementioned Cameron family. The tall frame of Rafe Cameron lay horizontal on the plush couch, his arms wrapped protectively around the small baby atop chest. His sweet little girl had only been born a few months ago, but she was already growing too fast for his liking. Each day was so precious to Rafe, knowing Emmy would never be this small again, so he cherished the mundane moments like this one, letting her use his chest as a mattress for as long as she wished. He basked in the rise and fall of her chest, the little grunts she let out as her dreams took place.
Rafe had been on the couch for an hour or so, letting his wife spend time with Charlie. The young boy loved his sister, but becoming a big brother was challenging. He was no longer the main focus of his parents and growing used to sharing the attention had been troubling for the boy. He would pout when his mother left his side to feed his sister, clinging tearily to her sleeve. It broke both Rafe and his wife's heart, and the pair knew they needed to do something to make Charlie know he was still just as important as before. That was when they noticed how much the little boy loved his mother's veggie garden. He was always trying to follow his mother outside, eager to play in the soil and spend time with his favourite person.
Each morning, the young mother would climb out of bed silently, her footsteps softly padding across the carpet in an attempt to not disturb the sleeping baby in the room. A soft kiss to her daughter's forehead before she disappeared outside to her veggie garden. At Tannyhill, the girl had grown a few herbs - chives, rosemary, thyme - that sort of thing. Rafe had never really noticed until one day he caught her sneaking out, and thinking the worst he followed her. He had frozen when instead of seeing her leaving the property or meeting another man, she had crouched down in front of the old neglected herb garden. Rose had tried to grow some herbs at one point before giving up on her faux housewife act, and Rafe had never really paid attention to what remained. His curiosity peaked as he watched his girlfriend gently water the soil and pat it in place, humming quietly to herself. Content with knowing her whereabouts, Rafe quietly stalked back indoors, tucking the knowledge away in his mind.
When the family moved to their new home, he decided to surprise his now-wife with a special section in the backyard just for her. He'd spent a few hours one morning while she was in town building planter boxes, filling them with soil and setting up a hose nearby. Rafe was so excited to surprise her once she returned home, covering her eyes with his hands as he led her out to the yard. Little Charlie sat on her hip despite her pregnant belly, his hands clinging to his mother.
"Hey-hey! No peeking! Don't you dare," Rafe muttered as she tried to move her head away.
"Just tell me, please?" She begged, growing impatient. It didn't help that Rafe's guiding skills left a lot to be desired.
"Just know that you're gonna like it, 'kay?"
When his hands dropped away from her eyes, she gasped softly. The perfect little garden set-up stood in front of her, all ready to go. Eyes wide, she turned to Rafe.
"Wha- how, I- how did you know?" She questioned incredulously. No-one had ever done anything like this for her. Rafe grinned down at her as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her into his frame.
"I have my ways," he drawled cheekily, "I did good, huh?"
He watched as she nodded, turning to Charlie, "Should we go have a look?" The little boy nodded and Rafe stood on proudly as his wife and son went to investigate the new garden.
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Rafe noticed Emmy stirring, the girl beginning to grumble as her hunger grew. He knew she needed to be fed or soon, the whole neighbourhood would hear the girl's screams. As he slowly pandered out to the yard, his eyes fell upon his wife and the small blond boy crouched at her side. With a watering can in one hand, Charlie gently delivered water to the small carrot and tomato plots. He squealed in excitement as his mother praised him for his effort, gently patting the soil around the growing vegetables as she did the same. Rafe looked at the two proudly, wishing he didn’t need to interrupt them, but alas, little Emmy began to whine loudly, catching the attention of her mother. She turned around quickly to see the small girl baby tucked securely in her father’s arms, and stood up.
“Hungry?”
“Don’t you know it,” Rafe grunted. He handed Emmy over to his wife’s outstretched arms.
“She’s just like you, never full,” she sighed, exasperated, before undoing the oversized button up of Rafe’s she wore.
The pair settled into a moment of comfortable silence as their daughter latched, her little hands reaching to cling to the shirt lapels. Calm spread but only for a moment.
“Daddy! Look! Strawberry!” Charlie shouted. Rafe stalked over to his son and crouched down to match his height. It was almost comical to see such a tall man make himself so small, especially when he couldn’t control the expression of slight discomfort covering his face.
“Wow bud, look at that… did you and your mama do that?” Rafe grinned as Charlie nodded, pleased with himself. Rafe had never fully been able to get into the groove of gardening, finding the waiting too painful to ever properly enjoy the art. But for his son, he would do anything - and so he played along. He would ask questions, get his son to show his new plants, praise his little sprouting vegetables and make sure his son knew he was proud of him. He wasn’t above forgetting which seed plot was which, but he tried. For a few moments, silence blanketed the family as an engrossed Charlie continued to tend to him plants.
“Mama and I have carrots too!” The boy exclaimed.
“Oh yeah? When are we gonna eat them, little man? How much longer until they’re ready?” Rafe asked, reaching his hand out to steady Charlie as he began to lean over the garden. Charlie looked up at his mother questioningly, the woman now seated on the bench nearby. She hummed softly as she thought for a moment,
“Maybe another month or two? We only planted them last week, C.”
The boy returned his gaze to Rafe, smiling at his father. Rafe looked down at his mini-me, sighing as he picked the boy up in his arms, standing and walking over to his wife. She had finished feeding Emmy now, and had the sweet little girl resting against her chest.
“Good thing we still have a grocery store nearby, huh?” Rafe chuckled, “Not gon’ starve.”
He grimaced at the sudden pinching sensation against his bicep, High School Gf sending a glare to him as she pulled her hand away. Shit.
“But hey - once those carrots are ready, we should make a big salad. You know that one you like, bud? We can make it for dinner one night. How’s that sound?” The momentary anxiety was evident in the way Rafe quickly spoke, desperately hoping to avoid a meltdown from the toddler. He was at an age where his sensitivity was high.
“Promise, daddy? And we have ice cream after?”
Both Rafe and High School Gf exhaled with relief. Crisis averted. Rafe nodded down at his son and when the boy extended out his pinky finger to affirm their promise, he grinned.
“Pinky promise, C.”
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the pure domesticity of this would be sickening to the old rafe lol
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dissapointu · 2 days ago
Note
Hello, I wanted to ask you a little drabble with all the arcane characters.
Like how they fell in love with reader ( like what captured their attention etc)
It would be pretty cool in my opinion.
Have a wonderful day\night.
Aaaugh, I made of made this a bit long-(really long, that was sarcasm) I'm splitting it into two portions
Jinx-
Jinx didn’t know what to make of you at first. You weren’t loud or flashy like the people she was used to dealing with. You weren’t trying to prove anything, and yet, there was something about you that screamed different.
She first noticed it when you didn’t flinch at one of her explosions—not the way most people did, anyway. The boom had rattled the room, shaking dust from the rafters, and yet, there you were, brushing soot from your shirt like it was just another Tuesday.
“Nice touch with the blue sparks,” you’d said, nodding at her latest contraption. “Adds flair.”
Flair? Most people would’ve called it destruction. Most people would’ve screamed or run. But you? You tilted your head, eyes bright, genuinely impressed, and for a moment, Jinx was at a loss for words.
It wasn’t just that you didn’t fear her; it was the way you saw her. You noticed the little things—the care she put into her work, the way she tinkered endlessly to perfect her machines. While others saw chaos, you saw art, and for someone like Jinx, that was everything.
The next time she saw you, it was intentional. She didn’t need to bring you a gadget she’d been working on—it wasn’t even finished—but she wanted to see how you’d react. Sure enough, you examined it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, pointing out details she hadn’t realized anyone else would notice.
“This is genius,” you murmured, tracing a finger along a carved design she’d barely remembered adding. “You really think through every detail, don’t you?”
Her heart did something weird then, like skipping a beat but more… explosive.
From there, it snowballed. You became her favorite person to show her creations to, the only one she trusted to see her work before it was ready. You never judged, never laughed when something misfired—just smiled and asked how you could help.
And Jinx? She realized she’d fallen for you one day when she caught herself trying to impress you. The realization hit her like a grenade: she didn’t just want you to like her inventions—she wanted you to like her.
“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she said one night, leaning against her workbench, tools scattered around her. Her voice was softer than usual, almost unsure. “Most people don’t get me, but… you do.”
You’d just smiled, that easy, genuine smile that had hooked her from the start. “That’s because you’re worth getting.”
And just like that, Jinx knew there was no going back.
Vi –
Vi wasn’t looking for anyone. She didn’t have time for soft moments, not with everything she had on her plate. But then you came along, and she couldn’t help but notice how you carried yourself—steady, calm, unshakable.
The first time she really noticed you, it wasn’t some grand, sweeping moment. It was quiet. You were helping some kids in the Lanes patch up a rickety swing they used to pass the time. Nothing fancy, just you, a coil of rope, and that determined look in your eyes.
She hadn’t meant to stop and watch, but something about you drew her in. Maybe it was the way you didn’t hesitate to get your hands dirty or how the kids laughed around you, their faces lighting up despite everything the Lanes threw at them.
“You’re good with them,” she said after working up the nerve to approach you, trying to sound casual.
You glanced up at her, wiping sweat from your brow, and gave her a smile that hit her like a sucker punch. “Someone’s gotta be. They deserve better than this, don’t you think?”
It wasn’t just your words that stuck with her—it was the way you said them. Like you meant it. Like you actually believed in something better, even when the world gave you every reason not to.
From then on, Vi found herself noticing you everywhere. The way you stepped up when others hesitated. The way you didn’t back down, even when things got messy. You had this quiet strength about you, the kind that didn’t demand attention but earned it anyway.
She started finding excuses to stick around—helping with repairs, walking the kids home, sparring with you in the courtyard when the opportunity came up. And each time, she found herself drawn to you a little more.
“You’re somethin’ else,” she admitted one night, sitting beside you on a crumbling wall, the city’s broken skyline stretching out before you.
You raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. “That so?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck, uncharacteristically shy. “Most people would’ve given up on this place a long time ago, but not you. You stick it out, no matter how hard it gets.”
You shrugged, your gaze softening as you looked at her. “Same could be said about you, Vi.”
That was the moment it hit her—like a punch she didn’t see coming. It wasn’t just admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something she couldn’t ignore.
She fell for you in pieces, each small moment stacking up until it all clicked. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic confessions. It was the way you fit—like you were exactly what she didn’t know she was missing.
And when she finally worked up the courage to tell you, your answer came with that same steady smile that had captivated her from the start.
“Figured it out, huh?” you teased, and she rolled her eyes, though her grin gave her away.
Yeah, she figured it out. And she wasn’t letting you go.
Sevika-
Sevika didn’t believe in love. In the Lanes, it wasn’t something people had the luxury of chasing. Survival came first, and attachments were just liabilities waiting to stab you in the back.
But you were… different.
The first time she noticed you, it wasn’t because you were trying to catch her attention. You were too busy holding your own, stepping into a dispute between two gang members over stolen supplies. She’d leaned back in the corner of the Last Drop, watching the chaos unfold, ready to step in if things got messy.
But then you surprised her.
You didn’t raise your voice or threaten anyone. Instead, you stood tall, calm as you defused the tension with a few sharp words and an unflinching glare. You had this presence, like you weren’t afraid of anyone in the room—not even her.
“Bold move,” Sevika had said when you approached the bar afterward, ordering a drink like you hadn’t just stared down two brutes twice your size.
You glanced at her, your lips quirking into a small smirk. “Someone’s gotta keep things from falling apart.”
That was the moment she started paying attention. You didn’t just survive in the Lanes—you thrived. You didn’t let the weight of the place crush you like it did everyone else. And more than that, you cared. Not in some naive, starry-eyed way, but in a way that made you fight tooth and nail for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves.
It pissed her off at first. The way you carried yourself like you weren’t afraid of the darkness around you. She thought it was reckless, stupid even. But the more she watched, the more she realized it wasn’t recklessness. It was conviction.
You weren’t scared of getting your hands dirty, but you never lost sight of what mattered to you. That’s what got under her skin, what kept her coming back to the same barstool night after night, just to see what you’d do next.
She started finding reasons to stick around. Sometimes it was to share a drink, other times to offer backup when things got rough. You never asked for her help, but you didn’t push her away either, and that intrigued her more than she cared to admit.
One night, after a particularly close call with one of Silco’s rivals, you patched up a cut on her arm, your hands steady as you worked.
“You’re too damn stubborn for your own good,” she muttered, watching you through half-lidded eyes.
You chuckled, your touch gentle as you tied off the bandage. “Takes one to know one.”
It was such a simple moment, but it stayed with her. The way you looked at her—not like she was some feared enforcer, but like she was just… Sevika. It wasn’t something she was used to, and it scared her as much as it thrilled her.
Over time, she realized she was looking for you in every crowd, waiting for the nights you’d sit beside her and trade sharp banter over a drink. She fell for you quietly, begrudgingly, like it snuck up on her before she could stop it.
And when she finally admitted it—to herself, to you—it wasn’t some grand confession. It was a gruff, almost reluctant, “You mean more to me than you should.”
Your response? That same infuriating, endearing smirk. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”
Sevika huffed a laugh, shaking her head, but the truth was, she didn’t mind. Because for once, letting someone in didn’t feel like a weakness. It felt like strength.
Silco -
Silco had always been a man of control, ambition, and sharp edges. In the underbelly of Zaun, survival demanded nothing less. Trust was currency, and affection? A distraction. He had long since accepted that power was the only thing worth chasing.
But then you appeared.
You weren’t loud or showy, not one of those people clawing for his attention. No, you worked quietly, efficiently, in the background of the chaos he ruled. You were just another piece in his intricate machine at first—just another person serving a purpose.
What caught his attention first was your unyielding patience. Where others in the Lanes were frantic, desperate to prove their worth, you moved with a calm certainty, like you weren’t afraid of the storm around you. You fixed what was broken—tools, machines, even people—without asking for anything in return.
One night, you’d been tending to one of his injured men after a skirmish, your hands steady as you stitched him up in the dim light of the hideout. Silco watched from the shadows, curious. The man hissed in pain, and you responded with a soft laugh.
“Hold still, or I’ll sew you up crooked,” you teased, your tone warm but firm.
It wasn’t the words that struck him—it was the way you carried yourself. There was no fear in your voice, no need to prove yourself to anyone. You didn’t care about earning his favor or gaining power. You just… were.
For someone like Silco, who thrived on manipulation and control, it was unnerving. People were supposed to want something from him. But you? You treated him like a man, not a king.
It wasn’t long before he started seeking you out. At first, it was subtle. A lingering glance as he passed through the room, a quiet question about your work. You always answered him honestly, without flinching under his piercing gaze, and it left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t quite name.
One evening, after a particularly brutal day, he found you sitting by the docks, staring out at the toxic waters of Zaun. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly at the sight of you, though he didn’t understand why.
“You should be careful out here,” he said, his voice low as he stepped closer.
You glanced over your shoulder, smiling faintly. “And miss the chance to breathe? I think I’ll take my chances.”
It was such a simple thing, but it stayed with him. In a world that demanded constant vigilance, you allowed yourself to simply exist. It was a quiet defiance, one that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.
Over time, you became a constant presence in his life, slipping through the cracks of his carefully constructed walls. It wasn’t grand gestures or impassioned declarations that made him fall for you. It was the quiet moments—the way you never cowered under his gaze, the way you challenged him without hostility, the way you saw him for more than his scars.
One night, as the two of you shared a rare moment of silence in his office, he finally allowed himself to admit what he’d been feeling.
“You’re dangerous,” he said, his voice soft, almost amused.
You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Dangerous? To you?”
He smirked, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve managed to do what no one else has.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’ve made me want something I didn’t think I needed.”
Your smile widened, warm and unguarded, and for once, Silco didn’t feel the need to look away.
In you, he found something unexpected: a quiet kind of strength, the kind that didn’t demand attention but commanded respect. And for a man who had spent his life fighting for control, letting himself fall for you felt like the ultimate rebellion.
Vander -
Vander wasn’t a man who fell in love easily. His life had been shaped by too much loss, too much responsibility. The people of the Lanes leaned on him, and he carried their weight with quiet strength. Love, to him, felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.
But then, there was you.
It wasn’t some grand moment that captured his attention—it was the small, steady things. The way you moved through the chaos of the Last Drop, keeping the peace in your own quiet way. The way you never demanded his time but somehow always knew when he needed someone to sit beside him in silence.
What struck him first was your kindness—not the soft, fragile kind, but the sort that had edges. You didn’t let people walk over you, but you never hesitated to offer a hand to someone in need. In a place like Zaun, where survival often demanded selfishness, you were a rarity.
He noticed it one night when a brawl broke out in the bar. Two rowdy patrons had nearly overturned a table, and before Vander could step in, you were already there. You didn’t raise your voice or throw a punch. Instead, you placed a firm hand on one of their shoulders, your calm, measured tone cutting through the tension.
“Save it for the street, boys. We don’t spill blood where we share drinks.”
To his surprise, they listened. Vander couldn’t help but chuckle as they slunk off, muttering apologies.
“Got a way with people,” he said later, handing you a drink as thanks.
You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Just trying to keep things from falling apart.”
Those words stayed with him. It was how you carried yourself—like you were always holding the pieces together, not because you had to, but because you chose to.
Over time, he started finding excuses to be near you. A quick conversation here, a shared drink there. You had a way of making him feel… lighter. Like he could let go of the weight he carried, even if just for a moment.
It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after the bar had emptied, that he realized how deeply you’d settled into his heart. You were sitting on one of the tables, cleaning up a spill, humming a tune under your breath. The soft glow of the lanterns lit up your face, and for a moment, Vander just… watched.
“You’re staring,” you said, not looking up.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Caught me.”
You glanced at him then, your smile warm and teasing. “What’s on your mind, big guy?”
He hesitated, uncharacteristically unsure. But then, he decided to just say it—Vander was never one for dancing around the truth.
“You. The way you care about this place. The people. Me.” He exhaled, leaning against the bar. “Never thought I’d find someone like you in all this.”
Your eyes softened, and you set down the rag in your hands, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased gently. “Took you long enough to notice me.”
He laughed then, a deep, rumbling sound that made your chest warm. “Oh, I noticed. Took me a bit longer to admit it.”
And when you reached up, resting a hand against his face, he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. In you, he found something he hadn’t realized he needed—a steady flame in the chaos of the Lanes.
Ekko -
Ekko didn’t believe in distractions. The Firelights needed him, the Lanes needed him. His days were spent fixing the mess left behind by Piltover’s greed and Silco’s reign. He had no time for anything else—least of all love.
But you? You didn’t give him much of a choice.
It wasn’t a single moment that caught his attention. It was a collection of them, like the pieces of a clock coming together. He first noticed the way you moved—quick and deliberate, like you belonged to the rhythm of the chaos around you. No hesitation, no wasted motion. Whether you were patching up one of the Firelights after a mission or organizing supplies in the hideout, you carried yourself with a quiet confidence that made it impossible for him not to watch.
What hooked him, though, was your laughter. The first time he heard it, he froze. It had been after a particularly rough raid. Everyone was tense, the weight of the day pressing down on their shoulders. And then you cracked some joke—stupid, honestly, but something about the way you delivered it had everyone laughing, including Ekko.
That was when he realized it: you didn’t just survive the Lanes. You thrived in them. You brought light into a place where most people only saw shadows.
It started small—an extra second spent talking to you, a lingering glance when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d catch himself gravitating toward you without even meaning to, drawn to the way you lit up a room with just your presence.
But it wasn’t until one night, long after the others had gone to sleep, that he truly understood how deep you’d gotten under his skin. You were sitting by the glow of a makeshift lantern, tinkering with some piece of tech you’d salvaged. The light cast shadows across your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the focus in your eyes.
“Burning the midnight oil?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.
You glanced up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Someone’s gotta keep this place running.”
He stepped closer, hands shoved into his pockets. “You do too much, you know that?”
“Says the guy who can barely take a break,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.
He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” For a moment, he just stood there, watching you work. The quiet stretched between you, comfortable and warm.
“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly.
You paused, looking up at him with a tilt of your head. “Do what?”
“Care so much. About all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entire hideout, the Firelights, the Lanes.
Your gaze softened, and you set the piece of tech aside. “Because someone has to. And because… I believe in you, Ekko.”
The sincerity in your voice hit him like a punch to the gut. You believed in him. In a world that seemed determined to tear him down, you stood beside him, unwavering.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “Guess you’re stuck with me anyway.”
That was the moment Ekko fell. Completely, irreversibly.
Jayce -
Jayce had always been drawn to brilliance. Invention, ambition, ingenuity—they were the cornerstones of what he admired in others. And yet, none of it had ever prepared him for you.
The first time he saw you, it wasn’t in a polished Piltover workshop or a grand council meeting. It was in a small, crowded market on the edge of the Undercity, where the scent of oil and metal clung to the air. You stood at a stall, bartering for scraps and materials like your life depended on it—because, as he’d later learn, it did.
What caught his attention wasn’t just your resourcefulness or the sharp wit you wielded against the vendor. It was the way your eyes lit up when you held a seemingly useless part in your hands, already envisioning the endless possibilities it could unlock.
He didn’t even mean to approach you. His curiosity had a mind of its own. “What are you going to do with that?”
You turned, a little startled, but you didn’t back down from his inquisitive gaze. Instead, you held up the twisted hunk of metal like it was a crown jewel. “Turn it into something brilliant. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
It wasn’t arrogance—it was certainty. And Jayce, who had spent his life chasing impossible ideas, saw a kindred spirit in you.
From that moment, you became an enigma he couldn’t resist unraveling. Every conversation revealed new layers to your ingenuity, your resilience, your unshakable belief in making the impossible possible. And the more time he spent with you, the more he realized it wasn’t just your mind that captivated him—it was your heart.
You were unafraid to challenge him, to push him, to remind him that the world wasn’t just equations and theories but people and dreams. Your passion reignited something in him he hadn’t realized he’d lost: a love for the why, not just the how.
One evening, as the two of you sat side by side, tinkering with a device in his lab, he found himself watching you instead of the work. The way your hair caught the light, the quiet determination in your expression, the soft smile when something finally clicked into place.
“You’re staring,” you teased without looking up.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—how do you make everything seem so effortless?”
You grinned, glancing at him with that spark he’d come to love. “It’s not effortless. I just don’t let the hard parts stop me.”
In that moment, he knew he was a goner.
Jayce Talis, the golden boy of Piltover, had fallen in love with you—not because of what you could build, but because of what you built in him: a renewed faith in the beauty of dreaming big, of chasing the spark no matter where it led.
And it apparently led to you.
Viktor-
Viktor didn’t notice you at first, not in the way others might have. He was too focused on his work, his mind consumed by blueprints and equations. But you… you were patient, always there in the background, asking questions no one else dared to ask, seeing things no one else cared to notice.
It was one of those late nights in the lab when you caught his attention. He was hunched over a schematic, frustration etched into every line of his face. You, seated quietly at the far end of the room, had been watching him—though you’d never admit it aloud.
“Did you eat today?” your voice broke through the silence.
Viktor didn’t even look up. “I’m fine,” he replied, a rote answer that wasn’t convincing in the slightest.
You set down your work and crossed the room, standing just out of his peripheral vision. “Fine isn’t food, Viktor.”
When he finally looked at you, there was something in your eyes that made him pause. It wasn’t pity or condescension—two things he’d grown accustomed to. It was understanding, genuine and unyielding, as if you knew exactly what it felt like to lose yourself in something bigger.
That was the first moment he realized you were different.
It wasn’t the last.
You had a way of grounding him, of pulling him out of his own head without judgment. Your presence was quiet but powerful, a steady force that didn’t demand his attention but earned it nonetheless.
What truly captured him, though, was your mind. You didn’t just accept the world as it was; you questioned it, challenged it, sought to understand it. You weren’t afraid to debate him, to push back when you thought he was wrong, and yet you did so with a respect that made him listen.
He found himself looking forward to your late-night conversations, the way you’d linger in the lab long after everyone else had gone home. You’d ask about his work—not just the mechanics but the why behind it, the hopes and fears he buried beneath his relentless drive.
One evening, as you sketched out a rough design on a scrap of paper, Viktor caught himself smiling. Not at the drawing, though it was clever, but at you. The way you bit your lip in concentration, the furrow of your brow, the quiet hum of satisfaction when you got something just right.
“You are remarkable,” he said softly, almost to himself.
You glanced up, surprised. “What?”
His cheeks flushed, and he looked away, fiddling with a wrench. “Nothing. Just… your ideas. They’re��� innovative.”
But it wasn’t just your ideas. It was you—the way you saw the world, the way you saw him. Not as a man constrained by limitations but as someone capable of more.
You believed in him, not just in his work, and that was something Viktor hadn’t realized he craved until you offered it so freely.
And as the days turned into weeks, then months, he realized something else: He believed in you, too.
It wasn’t some grand epiphany or dramatic moment. It was in the quiet, shared glances, the lingering touches when you handed him a tool, the way his chest felt lighter when you were near. Somewhere in the midst of late nights and whispered dreams, Viktor had fallen in love.
Not just with your mind or your presence, but with the way you made him feel—seen, understood, whole.
And for a man who’d always fought against the odds, loving you felt like the greatest invention of all.
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vampiresbloodx · 21 hours ago
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Arcane imagine.
arcane characters react to you confessing your feelings to them.
characters included: Mel medarda, Caitlyn, vi, jinx, sevika
warnings: mutual pinning, yearning, fluff, slight angst, happy ending, implied smut, flirting, kissing, yeah .
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Mel medarda;
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You've been crushing on Mel for the longest time, you don't even know when it started, as you two have known each other for a while now, you both were kinda friends, you were never really sure, but you always felt so close to her
She had felt the same, she liked sticking by your side, hearing about your day, your projects, what you are thinking, anything, she loved listening to you talk
It was the one thing that made her day better, and seeing your face of course
It happened so suddenly, these feelings you'd never expect just came to you, Mel was just there, and you fell in love
Not that anyone could blame you, really, she's a goddess
you always wondered why on earth she'd spend time with you, someone so beautiful, so perfect, that you can't help but always admire, no matter the time and place
When you're anxious, you think of Mel, she makes everything better
When you're alone, you think of Mel
When you're with mel, you think of her
When you spot a pretty flower, you think of Mel
One time, you unintentionally picked a couple of flowers, making them look all pretty as you practically skipped your way to where Mel would be. But she wasn't alone, jayce was there, another boy she was working with
You thought they looked close, and you started to back away from them, your heart sinking, you felt your throat get tight, god, you felt so stupid, of course she would like a man like jayce, why would she ever like you? You were always just going to be her friend
Later that same day, it had turned to night, you spent the rest of the day in bed, ignoring everything and everyone, you were hurt, confused, annoyed with yourself
You just wanted it all to go away
When you heard a knock at your door, and your eyes widened, you looked up, you were about to tell them to go away, whoever it was, that's when you heard a familiar voice
"hey, it's me."
It was Mel's.
You wanted so badly to ignore her, for her to just walk away, but you knew she wasn't going to do that, you closed your eyes and signed, eventually getting up as you walked towards the door and opened it for her
"what do you want? I'm trying to sleep..." You said, hating how you sounded speaking to her. You watched the way Mel frowned, how she looked so worried, her hand reached out and you flinched, she didn't show how much that saddend her.
"you didn't join me for dinner, I was worried. I had came to check on you, oh! I should tell you on what Jayce and I have been up to so far-"
You shook your head, turning away as your back faced her, "I don't wanna hear about him."
That was all Mel needed to hear.
She smiled, stepping closer to you as she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in, you tried to protect but nothing came out and she wasn't letting you go anyways
There was no point
"tell me what's wrong, I know what you're like when you try and push others away, don't do that to me, please" she murmured, her voice soft and calming in your ears as you stared at the ground
you felt your eyes water
"I like you, Mel" you sniffled, you were ready for her to leave, for your friendship to be over. "I've always liked you Mel, more than how friends should like one another, I just I was so scared. But then I saw you with Jayce, and I got jealous, I grew distant, because I couldn't face you, I couldn't look at you in the eyes the same, knowing that he can be better for you than I could ever be."
For a moment, you didn't hear anything, you still heard her breathing from behind you as your heart thumped loudly in your chest.
Then she forced you to turn around and look into her eyes as her hand grabbed your chin, "you mean more to me than anyone could ever be, Why would you think such things?, you're more than my friend, you're my love, my laughter, my everything, this is all I ever wanted to hear from you" Mel said, she smiled so brightly, she looked gorgeous, you wanted to kiss her
You caressed her cheek with her hand, "can... Can I?" You were hesitant to ask, she chuckled, crashing her lips against yours, you melted into the kiss, wanting to stay here forever and ever, she tasted like strawberries and honey, you never wanted to get rid of that taste
Caitlyn;
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Caitlyn knew there was something off about you the moment you stopped talking to her as much like you usually would
She found it strange, so unlike you, she looked forward to seeing you whenever she could and hear your voice
But as of lately, she's been alone and missing a certain someone, you
She's been talking to Jayce and wondering what to do and how she can help you if there is anything going on, she'd want to help, she was your friend, your best friend even
So it hurt her when you suddenly stopped hanging out with her
She couldn't stop thinking about you, if she had done anything to cause this, she was freaking herself out
She had even gone to Viktor and ask for his advice, he was sort of helpful, but it wasn't like he was cupid and had the best advice for crushing on your friend
Caitlyn missed you, a lot
She went to your place to find you, surprisingly, you weren't there, she looked at the library, she didn't see you, eventually, she did find you, sitting outside by a tree, you looked so pretty, she couldn't help but admire, she ran up to you, excited, she needed to be around you again
"Cait?..." You said, looking surprised, she wasn't sure why you would be, she didn't say anything and just hugged you tightly
You hugged her back
"where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you, you had me worried" Caitlyn's words came out rushed, you smiled at her.
"can you sit with me?" You asked.
She happily did.
"what's going on? Did something happen?-"
"Cait, let me speak."
You had cut her off before she could even finish asking more, she immediately shut up, she knew you needed to take your time to gather your words, she wanted to touch you again, but she restrained herself
"there's been a lot on my mind, that's why I haven't seen you, but I need to tell you something" you said, she can see the way you were fidgeting with your fingers, a thing you do when you're nervous, then you just randomly stood up, pacing back and forth.
"whatever you have to tell me won't be that bad-" Caitlyn tried to reassure, still you didn't listen
"I like you" you shouted at her, she blinked.
"you what?" She muttered, still processing your words
"I know this was a bad idea to tell you how I really felt, but I had to, I couldn't not tell you, I really fucking like you, Caitlyn" you said, it almost looked like you were on the verge of tears
Caitlyn stood up, you stared up at her expecting the worst, but then she cupped your face and kissed you
That alone told you enough of what she really meant, as you kissed her back, smiling
Vi;
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You have always liked Vi for as long as you've known her, that wasn't anything new, anyone who's ever met you knows about your crush on her, except for one person, Vi
She's always claimed not to be an oblivious person, but people who know her also know that's obvious to see from a mile away
Vi has always been a good friend to you, more than anyone has ever been
Ekko, one of your other friends, has been telling you to confess your crush to Vi for years, yeah, it's not something that's new, you two have known each other for ages, Ekko has been through it all witnessing it, and he just wants you to tell her already
"Ekko, I don't know. I don't wanna ruin what I have with her" you muttered, the two of you were hanging out one night, catching up over snacks and games, you hear him chuckle
"you won't, trust me. I wouldn't be telling you to do this if I wasn't sure."
He was right about that. You've always trusted Ekko no matter what it is, he's always had a good heart
and almost most of the time he was always right
Just maybe things will go okay, if you told Vi how you really feel, she won't stop being your friend, but the fact that everyone else can see your crush on her except for her you just weren't sure
Even when you think you know her, you still can't wrap your head around her
You had planned to tell her this Friday night, where you know she'd always meet at your hangout spot, you wanted to make it look pretty, make it feel special, also it was an excuse to distract yourself from what tonight was actually for
Ekko had helped picked out the music, Vi has always liked metal and punk rock, you were sure in another lifetime she would be in a band
you had gotten the snacks, her favorites and yours, including the drinks and the gift you wanted to give her, you've set up a blanket and pillows down for you both
Your heart felt like it was beating so hard it could rip out of your chest any minute
You checked the time and your eyes widened, she was going to be here any second, fuck
You tried to stop pacing around, before you knew it she had arrived right on time, she greeted you with a smile and immediately hugged you, your cheeks warmed as you hugged her back, god you missed her so much
"what's the special occasion?" She asks with a raised eyebrow, biting her cherry as she laid down onto the blankets. "Everything looks so nice, and you got me my favorites? You spoil me."
You smiled, sitting down with her as you contemplated even telling her how you really felt, with how pretty she looks right now, you so badly wanted to kiss her
"I may have something" you said, finally able to get your words together. "Actually yes, I need to tell you something, vi" you hated how you were stuttering, you bit down on your bottom lip as you avoided her gaze.
"what's up, angel?" She said with a grin, she's always called you that, it's been her personal nickname made for you, it's always made you flustered
"Vi, I like... " You paused, trying to actually look into her eyes without looking away, "I like you."
Vi smiled, she looked like she didn't get it at first
"I like you to, angel" she chuckled.
You shake your head.
"no, vi, I actually like like you, I wanna be your girlfriend."
God you couldn't believe you actually told her
you waited for her to reject you, to just stand up and leave, but she didn't do any of that, instead Vi pulled you in closer, pressing her lips to yours as she kissed you hard, you gasped into her mouth, processing whats happening, that she's kissing you, her lips feel so soft against your own, your hand reached up to cup her face
She pulled away, letting you two have a moment to catch your breath as you felt ecstatic, "vi..."
"I've always liked you too, I'm glad you told me. I was actually planning on telling you myself, I didn't know when but you bet me to it, I'm glad you did, because this was the best, it was perfect."
You smiled, leaning in as your nose brushed against hers, she grabbed you by the shirt, making you fall into her as the night was not over just yet
Jinx;
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Jinx had always been by your side for as long as you've known her, you have always been by hers, and she's always been by yours, that's just how you two were, when you met, it was an instant click, it was rare for jinx to experience that, so she kept you by for as long as she can
She loves everything about you, your entire personality, how no matter what you always make her day better, you were different, you meant a lot to her
She meant a lot to you as well
More than she'd ever know
Despite all that was happening, what you two have been through, you have always defended her, even when you didn't have to
She appreciates that, even if she doesn't tell you herself
It's like you somehow knew
She needed you, when Vi left, she needed you the most
You were one of the very few that stuck around, and you weren't going anywhere anytime soon
Jinx notices something was up when you weren't showing up to her place like you'd usually be, you were always around, as of late, she didn't see much of you
She wondered why
Did she do something wrong? Are you finally realizing you're better off without her?
No, she couldn't think like that
She was able to easily find you again, you were standing by yourself on an edge, she was concerned, extremely worried, she was so happy to see you again, but she knew she shouldn't rush you
"hey" you said, she didn't even say anything yet you knew she was here
"hi" she smiled, "what are you doing out here? It's cold" she starts to take off her jacket, she always gave you something to wear even if you don't need it right then
You let her put it on
You've always looked so pretty in her clothes
"you know, you'd be a good model, definitely have the body for it" she chuckles with a grin, unable to keep her eyes off you. She saw the way you looked down, how you smiled, she felt proud of that, a little bit cocky too. "You okay? You wanna tell me what's up? You've been avoiding me. You know how I am when people try to ignore me" she couldn't help but pout.
You turn to face her, finally looking at her, she smiles at the sight of you. "I know, I'm sorry about that, a lot has been on my mind. Jinx, there's something I have to tell you, I can't hide it anymore."
She frowned, unsure of what you meant, were you planning on leaving her? Moving away forever? Was she not going to be able to see you ever again? So many thoughts clouded her
But what you told her was nothing she was expecting
"I like you, Jinx, for so long, I've liked you, and no, not in the platonic way, yes, that too, I mean you've meant something more to me for a long time" you said, staring into her gaze as her mouth hangs open, you what?
She rushes to you, wrapping her arms around you tightly as she feels like she could almost cry, good tears this time, her heart was beating so fast she laughed loudly
"why didn't you tell me sooner?" She grinned, cupping your face with both of her hands like you were her entire world, you are, you've always been. "I've liked you since forever, idiot, jeez, finally one of us came clean about it. I was gonna make a dramatic reveal to you but this was so you. I like it. I really like you too. A lot. Please be mine."
And you happily did, you kissed her, that night was the best night of your lives.
Sevika;
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Sevika wasn't an easy woman to read, some people have found it hard to even get under her skin, find out what makes her tick, what makes her squirm, loose balance
But you'd be a fool to test her
Then again, you were always known to be a foolish one
When people see you two together, they can't see it, you were brighter, much bubbly, always smiling then there was Sevika, scary, intimating, will kill you with one look
You two were total opposites, no one could understand how you worked so well together
But you just made it work
You were the book smart to Sevika's street smart, which is why silco partnered you with his most trusted a lot, she couldn't exactly argue with it at first, she still did, complaining about having to babysit you, despite the fact that she wasn't that much older than you anyways
Okay, maybe by a few years older, but you didn't need a god damn babysitter
She knew how to piss you off, and you knew how to annoy her as well
It went back and forth, at first, you two fought a lot,there were a lot of misunderstandings, people were even nervous to get in between you both, you two were just so loud about everything that only silco can shut you both up
Eventually, after a while, a long while, things started to settle, and Sevika understood why silco picked you
She knew he wouldn't pick any random person, he had his reasons
Then something weird started to happen, she grew more protective over you, sure, she knew she was already protective of those she cared most, but you, she wasn't sure about, it just happened all of a sudden, if anyone was bothering you, hell, if anyone tried to hurt you, hell would be unleashed
Jinx would always mock her of how much she protects you and will do anything for you, Sevika tries to fight it, her stubbornness winning, but as soon as she sees you, her walls are being cut down, forced to let you see her, as she watches you from afar, admiring your work and talents, how much dedication and time you put into things, she's actually impressed by you
The first time she ever complimented you had you feeling all giddy for weeks, months even, you wanted nothing more than to be praised by her again
Jinx was over it
How much you talked about her, how pretty she is, she'd literally gagged at how love sick you were about her, she was so tempted to shove you both in a closet to hurry the hell up and get it over with
But she knew sevika would kill her
Then again, she's reached a point where she couldn't care less
When Jinx was able to get you two alone together to finally actually talk things out, she did, she was gonna make it work, even if she had to be dramatic and pull a little strings
She would live with the fact that Sevika was gonna be pissed at her for a long time, possibly forever if this goes terribly wrong, but she doubts it would
It was a late Saturday night, everyone was still awake and hanging around, Sevika was sitting at the bar, right where Jinx told her where to meet, Jinx watched as you finally showed up, looking all nice as she grinned, walking away from it, letting it all play out
"Sevika?" You muttered, confused to see her there
But fuck did she look good
She frowned at the sight of you, about to say something, but her words fell flat at what you were wearing, you looked beautiful
Like really fucking gorgeous
"you look... Nice."
Your cheeks warmed at that, hearing her compliment you as you looked away from her gaze that was too intense for you
"yeah, I was told you'd be here... Jinx told me you wanted to speak to me about something important."
Then it clicked to her.
"fuckin' jinx" she groaned, shoving her glass away. "She set us up."
"what?" You said, dumbfounded, going to sit next to her.
There was a pause, you stared in the distance, distracted, she stared at you more, admiring your features, how pretty you looked in that dress
She's never seen you wear something so formal
It suited you
She bit down on her bottom lip, all of a sudden feeling nervous to speak
"how do you feel about us?" You asked, still not looking at her, she frowned
"us?" She repeated.
You nodded, turning your head to look at her in the eyes
"yeah, me and you. We're a good team, you make a good partner" you say. She felt her heart skip a beat, what the fuck was happening? Why were you being so nice to her?
"what is it" she muttered, "just tell me what you want."
"huh?" You looked confused.
"fuckin' hell" she groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Tell me."
"I like you" you spat out before you could even think.
She raised an eyebrow at you.
"say that again?."
"sevika" you sighed, she liked the way her name sounded coming from your lips, she wanted to hear it again. "This is already awkward as fuck, I like you, okay, fuck, I never hated you, well, maybe at some point I disliked you, at the start, but even then, you're a goddess, fucking look at you, your stunning, anyone would fall for that."
That took her off guard, definitely not what she was expecting
"if you want to cuss me out and stop being partners I'll accept I-"
She shut you up with her lips, pressing herself into you as you almost fell off your stool. She grabbed onto you as you held on tight, kissing her hard, as you moaned into her mouth.
After a while, she didn't want to stop kissing you, neither did you want to stop, you both broke away breathless, pressing your foreheads against each others
"come to mine?" She says with a smile
It's not often you see Sevika smile
"lead the way."
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wishfulsketching · 6 hours ago
Note
So what do you think made Silco’s little heart go doki doki for Vander? Cuz I keep picturing some creep grabbing his (non existent) ass and Vander having none of it. You know just show enough strength and protectiveness to be like ‘oh wait I wanna go mining in that’
I wanna go mining in that, absolutely perfect way to put it aksduhadsi. You know what, I had to indulge myself with this trope, why not!!!:
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A little different scenario but the idea is the same. Silco would fall in love with the fact Vander is so safe and that Vander and him share the same kind of passion for the cause. And also brain go brr when big big man big arm punch enemies
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cheer-nympho · 2 days ago
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Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.
Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,
But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,
Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?
He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.
When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.
Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.
“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.
And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.
This court jester is really fucking hot.
He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.
Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.
An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’
He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.
He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”
Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.
“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.
He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”
“It certainly makes an impression-“
“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”
“Steve is fine.”
“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”
“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.
“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”
“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.
So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.
Then out of nowhere… “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”
He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.
“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.
“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.
Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.
Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?
But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.
The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.
Shit.
He forgot to watch the fucking hands.
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southbynorth994 · 2 days ago
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I had no idea how my life was about to change when I asked that girl out on a simple date. Her name was Isabella. I had seen her around town, her dark hair cascading like a waterfall down her back, and her eyes—her eyes were a perfect shade of deep brown, mysterious yet warm, like a rich cup of coffee. She seemed different from the usual crowd, more reserved, but her smile could light up a room.
When she said yes to my invitation to dinner, I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world. We chose a quiet, cozy Italian restaurant on the edge of town, away from the hustle and bustle. It was the kind of place that felt like a hidden gem, with candlelight flickering on every table and a soft hum of Italian opera in the background. We talked for hours. She was charming, funny, and intelligent, and I was captivated by every word she said. She seemed so ordinary, in the best way possible, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that I might have just met someone truly special.
As the evening came to an end, I walked her to her car, a sleek black Audi. She thanked me for the night, her eyes sparkling, and I felt like the world was at my feet. I promised to call her again, to arrange another date soon, and she smiled, nodding in agreement.
But that’s when things took a strange turn.
The next morning, I was at work when I got a phone call from an unknown number. I almost didn’t pick up, but something told me to answer.
“Is this Brian Holden?” a low, gravelly voice asked.
“Yeah, who is this?”
“My name is Vito. Vito Romano. We need to talk.”
I froze. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Romano. That was the name of one of the most dangerous mafia families in the city. I had heard whispers about them. Stories of violence, power, and influence. And Vito Romano? He was the patriarch—the boss.
“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered. “What do you want from me?”
“I think you know,” Vito said, his voice calm but chilling. “You took my daughter out last night.”
I felt my blood run cold. My stomach dropped. Isabella was his daughter? The girl I had taken on a date?
“I didn’t know,” I said quickly, trying to explain myself. “I swear, I didn’t know. I thought she was just a normal—”
“I don’t care what you thought,” Vito interrupted. “What matters now is how you handle this situation. My daughter was not just any girl, and you will treat her with respect, or there will be consequences. Do you understand?”
“Yes… yes, I understand,” I stammered.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Vito spoke again.
“I’ll be at your place in an hour. Be ready to speak to me.”
I hung up the phone, my heart racing. I couldn’t believe it. I had just accidentally asked the mafia boss’s daughter on a date. What had I gotten myself into?
An hour later, a black SUV pulled up outside my apartment. My doorbell rang, and I opened it to find two imposing men in dark suits standing on my doorstep. One of them was holding a leather briefcase, the other had a scowl on his face. Behind them, I saw Vito himself, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a presence that made everything around him feel small.
“Brian Holden?” he asked, his voice calm but intimidating.
“Y-yes,” I replied.
“Come with me,” he said, and without waiting for an answer, he turned and started walking toward the car. The two men followed, and I had no choice but to follow as well.
We drove for what felt like forever, the tension in the car suffocating. When we arrived at a large, gated mansion, I felt like I had entered another world. Vito led me inside, his presence commanding every inch of the grand house. We sat down in a lavishly decorated room, and Vito motioned for me to take a seat.
“I don’t know what you were thinking, taking my daughter out without knowing who she is,” Vito said, his tone softening just slightly. “But I can see that you’re not the type of man who would intentionally disrespect the Romano family.”
I swallowed hard, still in disbelief.
“I… I had no idea. I swear. I didn’t mean any harm.”
Vito studied me for a long moment before nodding. “I believe you. Isabella speaks highly of you. And in this family, that counts for something.”
I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
“So, what happens now?” I asked cautiously.
Vito smiled—a rare, approving smile. “You’ll be a part of the family, Brian. You have my blessing. But remember this: we look out for our own, and you’ll do the same. Understood?”
I nodded, my mouth dry. “Understood.”
And just like that, I found myself welcomed into the heart of the mafia—a place I never imagined I’d be, all because of a simple date with a beautiful girl.
REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS
Too many beds
Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss
Really nice guy who hates only you
Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class
Divorce of convenience
Too much communication
True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)
Dating your enemy’s sibling
Lovers to enemies
Hate at first sight
Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead
Fake amnesia
Soulmates who are fated to kill each other
Strangers to enemies
Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating
Too hot to cuddle
Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground
Nursing home au
117K notes · View notes
aceyalonso · 2 days ago
Text
god forbid - OSCAR PIASTRI
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pairing: altar server!oscar piastri x pastors daughter!reader
summary : the indulgence in sin wasn't new to y/n, it never has been- but to oscar? he was as pure and innocent as a doe, the thought of sinning never even crossing his mind. but then again, everyone has to sin at one point, right?
warnings/notes : swearing, homoerotic tendencies between alexandra and rebecca, mentions of drinking, smut, sacrilegious themes, unspecified branch of Christianity, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!!), corruption, masturbation, improper use of hairbrush handle (iykwim), praise kink, use of "good boy", oral (m!receiving), edging, overstimulation, manipulation (if you squint)
word count : 18.1k
a/n : a very long and self indulgent fic HAHAHAH (please let me know if i missed any warnings, i lost count while writing)
main masterlist | 1k masterlist | taglist form
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Y/n took a deep breath, steadying herself before stepping up to the altar. The church was filled with the familiar faces of her congregation, including her best friend Alexandra who had just finished delivering the first reading. Y/n smoothed her skirt and adjusted the microphone, her eyes scanning the pews until they landed on her father, the pastor, watching her intently from his seat.
She cleared her throat and began, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him."
As Y/n continued to read, her mind began to wander despite her best efforts to focus. Thoughts of her secret rebellious side crept in unbidden - the parties she snuck out to on the weekends, the alcohol she experimented with, the boys she flirted with behind her father's back. A thrill ran through her at the riskiness of it all, even as a twinge of guilt pricked at her conscience.
Y/n's eyes met Oscar's as she continued reading, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them. She quickly averted her gaze, focusing intently on the words in front of her. Oscar, with his innocent eyes and pure heart, was everything Y/n wasn't. He never drank, never smoked, never even looked at a girl the wrong way. Her father adored him, always going on about what a fine young man he was, how he might even make a good pastor someday.
God, Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. She knew she should be happy for Oscar, proud of his devotion and goodness. But instead, it made her feel even more like a fraud. Like she was just playing a part, pretending to be the perfect pastor's daughter while hiding her true, sinful self.
She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple as she struggled to concentrate on the reading. Her eyes darted to Alexandra, who sat primly in the pew, the picture of innocence. But Y/n knew better. She knew about the wild parties they attended together, the boys they flirted with and sometimes took home. The way they would pass a guy back and forth, tossing him aside when they grew bored.
It was thrilling and exhilarating, a rush of power and control that Y/n craved. But here, in the church, surrounded by the pious faces of her congregation, it felt dirty. Shameful. She imagined what her father would think if he knew the truth about his precious daughter, and a wave of nausea washed over her.
Y/n swallowed hard and forced herself to focus on the words in front of her. She couldn't let anyone see the turmoil raging inside her. She had to keep up appearances, no matter the cost. Even if it meant burying her true self deeper and deeper until she hardly recognized who she was anymore.
She hurried through the final verse, her voice wavering slightly as she rushed to finish. "But each one is tempted when he is drawn away and enticed by his own evil desires. Then when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and when sin is accomplished, it brings forth death."
The words tasted bitter on her tongue, a stark reminder of her own hypocrisy. Y/n stepped back from the lectern, her legs shaky beneath her. She glanced at her father, hoping he hadn't noticed her momentary lapse. But his eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene and untroubled.
As Y/n made her way back to her seat, she caught Oscar's eye once more. He gave her a small, encouraging smile, his faith in her unwavering. Y/n felt a pang of guilt, knowing she didn't deserve his trust. She slid into the pew beside Alexandra, who leaned over to whisper in her ear.
"Nice job, girl. You almost had me worried there for a second." Alexandra giggled, her breath hot against Y/n's cheek.
Y/n leaned in close to Alexandra, her lips brushing against her friend's ear as she whispered, "Why the fuck is this the Bible verse chosen for today? It's making me feel so guilty."
Alexandra smirked, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "You didn't feel guilty making out with that guy last night," she purred, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Or when you downed like, five shots in a row. Live a little, Y/n. God knows you deserve to let loose sometimes."
Y/n bit her lip, torn between her desire for freedom and the crushing weight of expectation. She knew Alexandra was right - she had spent the night before tangled in a stranger's arms, lost in a haze of alcohol and lust. But here, in the sanctity of the church, it all felt so wrong.
They turned their attention to the altar, watching as the altar servers busied themselves with the communion preparations. Oscar was among them, his movements precise and reverent.
Alexandra leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "So, did you even remember that guy's name? The one you were making out with last night?"
Y/n furrowed her brow, trying to recall the hazy details of the previous evening. "It started with an F, I think. Frank? Franco?" She shrugged, the names blurring together in her mind.
Alexandra giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "Typical Y/n. Always leaving a trail of broken hearts and empty beds wherever you go."
Y/n poked Alexandra in the side, eliciting a small "ow" from her friend. "Hey, don't forget, you aren't that innocent either, you know," she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I saw you making out with Rebecca last night."
Rebecca was a member of their church choir, known for her sweet voice and demure demeanor. The thought of her locked in a passionate embrace with Alexandra sent a thrill down Y/n's spine.
Alexandra shrugged, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Rebecca just wanted to try on my new lip gloss. You know how curious she is about makeup."
Y/n rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Sure, and I'm sure that's all it was. Just two innocent girls experimenting with cosmetics."
The two girls stood to join the congregation in singing the hymn. As the familiar melody filled the air, Y/n noticed Alexandra's gaze locking with Rebecca's across the church. The two exchanged heated looks, a silent conversation passing between them that spoke volumes.
Y/n leaned in close to Alexandra, her breath tickling her friend's ear. "Save the eye-fucking for outside of church, will you?" she whispered, a playful edge to her tone.
Alexandra shot Y/n a quick, apologetic smile before turning her attention back to the hymnal. But her eyes kept straying to Rebecca, a flush creeping up her neck.
As the hymn continued, Y/n found her own gaze drifting towards Oscar. She couldn't help it. There was something about him, something pure and untainted that drew her in like a moth to a flame.
Maybe it was the way her father spoke so highly of him, always going on about what a fine young man he was. Or maybe it was the way Oscar's innocence seemed to shine through in every action, every gesture. An innocence that Y/n suddenly found herself wanting to corrupt.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. What was she thinking? Oscar was off-limits. He was practically family, for God's sake. And yet, the more she tried to push the idea away, the more it took root in her mind.
Y/n bit her lip, her heart racing as she watched Oscar from beneath her lashes. What would it be like, she wondered, to be the one to introduce him to the pleasures of the flesh? To watch that innocent face contort in ecstasy as she guided him through his first forbidden experiences?
She continued to sing along halfheartedly, her mind wandering as she imagined how Oscar would sound. Would he moan her name softly, breathlessly? Or would he cry out in ecstasy, his voice echoing off the church walls? She pictured him flushed and panting, his body glistening with sweat as he reached his peak.
The vivid fantasy caused a shiver to run down Y/n's spine, and she had to bite back a moan of her own. She was so lost in her lustful thoughts that she barely registered her father's voice booming through the church, calling the congregation to sit down.
Y/n settled into her seat, her eyes immediately seeking out Oscar. He was standing near the altar, his posture straight and attentive as he listened to her father begin the sermon. She shifted uncomfortably, her thighs rubbing together as she tried to ignore the growing ache between her legs.
"Calm down," Alexandra hissed, giving Y/n a pointed look. "Your dad's starting his sermon."
Y/n nodded, trying to focus on her father's words even as her mind raced with thoughts of Oscar.
"Temptation is a powerful force," her father intoned, his voice ringing out through the church. "It can lead us astray, cause us to stumble and fall. But we must resist, my children. We must hold fast to our faith, even in the face of the greatest temptations."
Y/n squirmed in her seat, her father's words hitting a little too close to home. She knew she should be paying attention, should be taking his message to heart. But all she could think about was the way Oscar's lips might feel against her skin, the way his hands might explore her body.
"Temptation comes in many forms," her father continued, his voice booming through the church. "It can be the lure of wealth, the promise of power, or the allure of the flesh. But we must be vigilant, my children. We must guard our hearts and our minds against the wiles of the devil."
Y/n reached into her small purse, fishing out a piece of candy she always kept on hand for long sermons. She and Alexandra often found their blood sugar dropping during the lengthy services, making it hard to concentrate on her father's words.
She unwrapped the candy slowly, trying to be discreet as she popped it into her mouth. The sweet flavor burst on her tongue, giving her a much-needed boost of energy. But even as she focused on the sermon, her mind kept wandering back to Oscar.
"Temptation can come from the most unexpected places," her father said, his voice rising with passion. "Even those we trust, those we love, can lead us astray if we are not careful. We must be on guard at all times, my children. We must be ready to resist temptation whenever it rears its ugly head."
Y/n shifted in her seat, her thighs clenching together as she tried to ignore the throbbing between her legs. She knew her father was right. Temptation could come from anywhere, even from someone as innocent and pure as Oscar. But that didn't make it any easier to resist.
She felt a jolt of electricity run through her as her father mentioned her name and the Bible verse she had read earlier. She glanced over at Oscar, catching his eye. He smiled at her, his expression warm and friendly, but Y/n couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if that smile was directed at her in a more intimate setting.
"My daughter Y/n read from the book of James earlier," her father continued, his voice ringing out through the church. "She spoke of the dangers of temptation, of how it can lead us astray if we are not careful. Let us all take heed of her words, my children. Let us all strive to resist the temptations that may come our way."
Y/n squirmed in her seat, her mind racing with forbidden thoughts. If anything, hearing her father speak about temptation only made it easier for her to imagine giving in to her desires with Oscar. She pictured him bending her over the altar, his hands roaming her body as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.
She found herself zoning out, her foot bouncing restlessly on the floor as she struggled to focus on her father's sermon. She couldn't shake the feeling that Oscar was staring at her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was as if he could read her mind, as if he knew exactly what kind of filthy thoughts were running through her head.
But instead of disgust or judgment, Y/n saw a flicker of something else in Oscar's eyes. Something that looked suspiciously like desire. Could it be that he wanted her too? That he was just as tempted by her as she was by him?
The thought sent a thrill of excitement through Y/n's body, even as a small voice in the back of her mind warned her to be careful. She knew she was playing with fire, entertaining such forbidden fantasies. But the temptation was just too strong to resist.
Y/n tore her gaze away from Oscar, closing her eyes as she tried to regain her composure. She could feel Alexandra's concerned gaze boring into her, and she knew she needed to say something to appease her friend.
"I have a stomachache," Y/n mumbled, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. She knew damn well that it was everything but a stomachache that was causing her distress. It was the throbbing ache between her legs, the desperate need for release that consumed her thoughts.
Alexandra frowned, leaning in closer to whisper in Y/n's ear. "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're about to pass out."
Y/n forced a weak smile, nodding her head. "I'll be fine. Just need some fresh air."
She stood abruptly, ignoring the surprised looks from those around her as she made her way towards the exit. She needed to get out of there and clear her head before she did something she would regret. But even as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Oscar's eyes were still on her.
Y/n slipped out into the garden near the chapel, desperate for some fresh air and a moment to collect herself. She could still hear her father's voice droning on from inside, his words washing over her in a distant, muffled blur.
She sank down onto a nearby bench, her head spinning as she tried to catch her breath. The scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass filled her nostrils, but even that couldn't distract her from the persistent ache between her legs.
Y/n tuned back in to the sermon every now and then, her father's voice rising and falling as he spoke of the dangers of temptation. But his words seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears.
She felt lightheaded, dizzy with a heady mix of shame and desire. She knew she shouldn't be having these thoughts, especially not about Oscar. But she couldn't help it. The temptation was just too strong to resist.
Y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she sat alone in the garden. The rest of the Mass passed by in a blur, her father's voice fading into the background as she struggled to calm her racing thoughts.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the gentle breeze that rustled through the leaves overhead. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine filled her nostrils, a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.
But even as she tried to find peace in the tranquil surroundings, Y/n couldn't shake the image of Oscar from her mind. His innocent face, his kind eyes, the way his lips curved into that perfect smile. It was enough to drive her mad with desire.
Y/n shifted on the bench, her thighs clenching together as she fought the urge to touch herself right then and there. She knew it was wrong, knew that she was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed.
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As the Mass ended, Y/n heard footsteps approaching behind her. She turned to see her father, still dressed in his pastoral attire, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Y/n, are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry. "I saw you slip out during the sermon. Is everything okay?"
Y/n forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil raging inside her. "I'm fine, Dad. It was just really hot in there, and I wasn't feeling too well. Stomachache."
Her father nodded, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Well, if you're not feeling better, why don't you head home and rest? I can finish up here."
Y/n shook her head, determined to stay and make amends for her absence during the sermon. "No, I'm okay. I just need to pray the rosary, to make up for the time I missed."
He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Alright, but if you start feeling worse, don't hesitate to come home and rest. Alexandra has your purse, so you can swing by their place to pick it up on your way."
Y/n thanked her father, watching as he turned to greet the other parishioners. She knew she should head inside and pray, should try to cleanse her mind of the impure thoughts that plagued her. But as she stood up from the bench, she couldn't help but glance towards the church, wondering if Oscar was still inside.
With a sigh, Y/n made her way toward the church entrance, steeling herself for the battle ahead. She knew it wouldn't be easy to resist temptation, especially with Oscar so close by. But she had to try, had to prove to herself and to God that she was stronger than her baser instincts.
Y/n made her way to the front pew, the chapel eerily quiet save for the occasional chirp of a bird that had snuck in through the open windows. She knelt down on the cushioned kneeler, the cool stone of the church floor pressing against her knees.
She began to pray the rosary, her fingers moving mechanically over the beads as she recited the familiar prayers. But even as she tried to focus on the words, her mind kept wandering, her thoughts straying to Oscar.
She pictured him kneeling in front of her, his head buried between her thighs as he devoured her with his mouth. She could almost feel his tongue lapping at her most sensitive parts, could almost hear the sounds of his pleasure as he discovered the taste of her.
Y/n bit her lip, stifling a moan as the fantasy played out in her mind. She knew it was wrong, knew that she was defiling the sacred space with her impure thoughts. But she couldn't stop, couldn't tear her mind away from the image of Oscar worshipping her body like it was the Holy Grail.
Y/n prayed harder, her whispers turning into full-voiced recitations as she tried to drown out the sinful images flooding her mind. But it was no use. The more she tried to focus on her prayers, the more vivid the fantasies became.
In her mind's eye, she saw herself and Oscar tangled together in the bell tower, their bodies moving in a frenzied rhythm as the church bells tolled overhead. She imagined him bending her over the altar, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her again and again.
And then there was the confession booth, the small, dark space where sins were laid bare. In Y/n's twisted imagination, she was on her knees, her mouth wrapped around Oscar's hard length as he groaned in pleasure.
The images were so real, so vivid, that Y/n could almost feel the phantom sensations on her skin. She squirmed on the kneeler, her thighs clenching together as she fought the urge to touch herself right then and there.
Tears began to well up in Y/n's eyes as the guilt of her lustful thoughts threatened to overwhelm her. She had never felt so ashamed, so dirty, so utterly consumed by a sin that she knew was wrong on every level.
But even as the tears spilled down her cheeks, Y/n couldn't deny the truth of her desires. She wanted Oscar, craved him with every fiber of her being. The thought of his hands on her body, his lips against her skin, was enough to drive her mad with need.
Y/n bowed her head, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she tried to pray for forgiveness. But the words caught in her throat, choked off by the intensity of her longing.
She knew she was damned, knew that she was straying further and further from the path of righteousness with every passing moment. But she couldn't seem to stop, couldn't seem to find the strength to resist the temptation that called to her so loudly.
As Y/n finished her prayers, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying to compose herself. But just as she was about to stand up and leave, she heard a noise coming from behind the altar.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she peered around the edge of the altar cloth to see what was going on. There, in the dim light of the sacristy, she saw Oscar emerging from the changing room.
He was in the process of taking off his robe, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his toned abs. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, her eyes tracing the path of his happy trail as it disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.
Oscar seemed oblivious to her presence, humming softly to himself as he hung up his robe and adjusted his shirt. Y/n felt like she should look away, should give him some privacy. But she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from his body, mesmerized by the sight of him.
He emerged from the sacristy, his eyes lighting up when he spotted Y/n kneeling in the front pew. "Hello Y/n!" he greeted her warmly, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Are you okay? I saw you walk out during the sermon earlier. Everything alright?"
She quickly wiped away any remaining tears, trying to compose herself. "Y-yes, I'm fine," she stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught off guard. "I just needed some fresh air, that's all."
Oscar nodded understandingly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned to gather his things. Y/n's eyes couldn't help but trace the contours of his body as he moved, the way his shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the way his pants clung to his muscular thighs.
She felt a familiar heat building between her legs, a desperate ache that demanded to be satisfied. It took every ounce of willpower for Y/n to tear her eyes away from Oscar's form, to focus instead on the crucifix hanging above the altar.
Oscar gathered his things, glancing over at Y/n with a curious expression. "What are you still doing here, by the way?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "I've been cleaning in the back for about thirty minutes now. Shouldn't you be at home resting by this point?"
Y/n felt a pang of guilt at his words, realizing just how long she had been sitting there, lost in her own twisted fantasies. "I...I was just praying," she mumbled, her eyes downcast. "Trying to make up for leaving the sermon early."
He nodded, his smile softening into a look of understanding. "I get it. Sometimes we all need a little extra time with God." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "But don't forget to take care of yourself too, Y/n. God wants us to be healthy and happy, not run ourselves into the ground."
Y/n smiled at Oscar, grateful for his concern. "Thank you, Oscar. That means a lot." She stood up from the pew, smoothing out her skirt as she prepared to leave.
"I should probably head over to Alexandra's to pick up my purse," she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "I'll see you around?"
Oscar nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he returned her smile. "Sounds good, Y/n. Take care of yourself, and I'll see you soon."
Y/n turned to leave, her heart pounding in her chest as she walked down the aisle of the empty church. She could still feel Oscar's gaze on her back, could still picture the way his shirt had ridden up to reveal his toned abs.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the images from her mind. She had to focus, had to get to Alexandra's house, and retrieve her purse before her thoughts spiraled out of control again.
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Y/n made her way to Alexandra's house, the short walk doing little to clear her head. As she approached the front door, she heard the unmistakable sound of giggling coming from upstairs. Curious, she crept up the stairs, following the noise to Alexandra's bedroom.
Peeking through the crack in the door, Y/n's eyes widened at the sight before her. There, on Alexandra's bed, were Alex and Rebecca, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.
Y/n knocked on the door, a teasing lilt to her voice as she called out, "Excuse me, guys, but I need to know where my purse is?"
Alexandra jumped, breaking away from Rebecca with a startled yelp. "Y/n!" she exclaimed, her face flushing a deep red. "I...um...your purse is on the dresser."
Y/n laughed, pushing open the door fully. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just figured you might need a reminder that you brought my purse with you."
Rebecca laughed, waving hello to Y/n. "Hey there!"
Alexandra turned to Y/n, her expression softening with concern. "Why did you leave the service early? Are you feeling okay?"
Y/n shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "I just needed some air, that's all. It was getting a bit stuffy in there."
Alexandra nodded, but her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Y/n's appearance. "Are you sure that's all? You look a little...flushed."
Y/n laughed, gesturing to the scene before her. "Oh please, look who's talking. You're the one kneeling on the bed beside Rebecca like you're all innocent."
Alexandra's blush deepened, but she grinned sheepishly. "Guilty as charged. But hey, you caught us. Might as well join in, right?"
Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile. "I'll pass, thanks. You two have fun, though. I'll let myself out and lock the front door on my way."
"Okay, your loss," Alexandra said with a shrug, a mischievous glint in her eye. Before Y/n could even respond, Alexandra leaned back down and captured Rebecca's lips in a kiss yet again.
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As she made her way back to her own house, Y/n's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, she was disgusted with herself for indulging in such sinful thoughts. But on the other hand, she couldn't deny the intense arousal that coursed through her veins, the desperate need to be touched and desired.
By the time she reached her front door, Y/n was practically panting with desire. She fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Once she was alone, Y/n leaned against the wall, her eyes fluttering closed as she tried to catch her breath. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.
Y/n walked over to the fridge, her mind still reeling from the erotic scene she had just witnessed. She reached for the handle, intending to grab a cold drink to cool herself down, when something caught her eye.
There, stuck to the fridge with a magnet, was a note from her father. "Sorry sweetheart, I won't be back till Wednesday," it read. "I just got a call - there's an emergency meeting for all the pastors in the city. Text me if you finish reading this."
Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath. With her father gone, there would be no one to keep her in check, no one to stop her from indulging in her darkest desires.
Her mind immediately wandered back to Oscar, to the way his shirt had ridden up to reveal his toned abs, to the tantalizing glimpse of his happy trail. Y/n bit her lip, her body aching with need.
Y/n quickly pulled out her phone and texted her father, letting him know she was home safe. Once that was done, she headed to her room, her mind already racing with thoughts of Oscar.
Inside her bedroom, Y/n stripped off her church clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the floor. She rummaged through her drawers until she found a pair of soft, worn-in shorts and a loose tank top. The clothes were comfortable, but they also left little to the imagination, hugging her curves in all the right places.
As she changed, Y/n couldn't help but imagine Oscar's reaction if he saw her like this. Would his eyes darken with desire? Would he reach out and touch her, his hands exploring every inch of her body?
Y/n shivered at the thought, her nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of her top. She knew she should stop these thoughts, should focus on something else. But it was too late. The seed had been planted, and now all she could think about was Oscar, and the way he made her feel.
She laid back on her bed, her gaze drifting over the photos that adorned her walls. There were pictures of her and her father, smiling and laughing together at various events and outings. There were photos of her and Alexandra, capturing their close friendship over the years. Scattered among them were snapshots from her childhood, reminding her of simpler times.
But even as she looked at these cherished memories, Y/n's mind kept drifting back to Oscar. She couldn't shake the image of him from her head, couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at her in the church, the way his presence had made her feel.
Y/n sat up suddenly, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what she had to do. She couldn't fight this attraction anymore, couldn't deny the desire that burned within her.
Y/n locked her bedroom door, the click of the lock echoing in the silence of the house. She sat down on her bed, her heart racing as she debated with herself.
She had touched herself before, of course. It was a natural part of growing up, of exploring her own body and desires. But this time felt different. This time, the object of her fantasies was someone so pure, so innocent.
Oscar was a man of God, a symbol of everything that was good and holy in the world. And yet, here she was, imagining him in the most sinful of ways.
Y/n's hand drifted down to the waistband of her shorts, hesitating for a moment before slipping beneath the fabric. She could feel the heat of her own arousal, the slick wetness that coated her fingers.
She closed her eyes, picturing Oscar's face as she began to stroke herself. In her mind, he was kneeling before her, his hands caressing her thighs as he worshipped her body with his mouth.
Y/n's fingers dipped in and out of her slick folds, barely breaching the entrance to her aching core. She was teasing herself, drawing out the pleasure as she lost herself in her fantasies.
In her mind, Oscar's inexperienced tongue was exploring her most intimate places, his soft lips and gentle touches driving her wild with desire. She imagined herself guiding his head, praising him for doing such a good job, for making her feel so incredibly good.
And then, in her fantasy, Oscar looked up at her with those innocent eyes, his voice barely above a whisper as he asked, "Am I doing it correctly, Y/n? Is this what you want?"
Y/n's hips bucked at the thought, a soft moan escaping her lips as she plunged her fingers deeper into her dripping sex. All it would take was a few more strokes, a few more whispered words of encouragement from her imaginary Oscar.
In Y/n's vivid imagination, her hand wrapped around Oscar's throbbing cock, stroking him with a slow, sensual rhythm. She could feel how sensitive he was, how every touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through his body.
As she worked him closer and closer to the edge, Oscar began to buck his hips, thrusting into her hand with desperate need. Soft whimpers escaped his lips, his breath hot against her skin as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
Y/n held his hand tightly, her fingers intertwined with his as she brought him to the brink of ecstasy. She could feel his heart racing, could sense the intensity of his desire as he clung to her, his body trembling with the force of his impending release.
With a final, firm stroke, Y/n pushed Oscar over the edge, his cock pulsing in her hand as he came with a low, guttural moan. She held him close, whispering words of comfort and encouragement as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, his cum spilling over her fingers in hot, sticky ropes.
Y/n's fantasy had brought her to the brink of orgasm, but it wasn't quite enough to push her over the edge. She stopped, her pussy pulsing with neediness as she took a moment to catch her breath.
After a few seconds, Y/n reached for her hairbrush, a makeshift dildo she had been using for months out of necessity. She couldn't risk her father finding a real sex toy in her possession, so she had learned to make do with whatever she could find.
The handle of the brush was smooth and hard, the perfect size to fill her aching void. Y/n slipped it inside her, a gasp escaping her lips as it stretched her tight walls.
She began to thrust the brush in and out of her dripping sex, her hips rocking in time with the movements of her hand. In her mind, it was Oscar's cock that was filling her, his strong hands gripping her hips as he pounded into her with wild abandon.
As Y/n continued to fuck herself with the hairbrush handle, her mind was flooded with the same forbidden fantasies that had troubled her as she recited the rosary. She pictured herself bent over the altar, her dress hiked up around her waist as Oscar took her from behind. She imagined the cool marble against her skin, the weight of his body pressing her down as he claimed her with his cock.
In another scenario, she saw herself in the bell tower, the heavy ropes of the bells swaying above her as Oscar lifted her onto his lap. She could feel the rough wood of the floorboards digging into her knees as she rode him, her hands gripping his shoulders for support.
But it was the confession booth that really set her imagination ablaze. She pictured herself on her knees, her head hidden behind the screen as Oscar stood before her, his cock hard and ready. She would take him into her mouth, her lips stretched wide around his girth as she worshipped him with her tongue.
Y/n knew that every corner of the chapel was adorned with images and symbols of God - crucifixes, paintings of Jesus, statues of angels and saints. But as she fucked herself with the hairbrush handle, lost in her forbidden fantasies, she couldn't bring herself to care.
The thought of God watching her, of Him bearing witness to her sinful desires, only heightened her arousal. She could almost feel His disapproving gaze upon her, could imagine the shame and guilt that would surely follow if she ever acted on her fantasies and gave in to lust with Oscar.
But fuck, it felt so good. The taboo nature of it all, the knowledge that she was defiling a sacred space with her carnal thoughts, only served to drive her closer and closer to the edge.
Y/n's hips moved faster, the hairbrush handle slamming into her G-spot with each thrust. Her moans grew louder, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she chased her rapidly approaching orgasm.
As Y/n's orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing with the force of her release, she cried out in ecstasy. "God, fuck! Fuck, fuck, so good!"
Her eyes rolled back in her head, her vision blurring as she rode out the intense waves of pleasure. And in that moment, as her mind was lost in a haze of lust and sin, she swore she saw a figure standing before her.
It was God Himself, His face twisted in a mixture of anger and disappointment. He reached out to her, His hand hovering just inches from her flushed skin, as if He wanted to strike her down for her transgressions.
But Y/n was too far gone to care. She was lost in the throes of her climax, her body shaking and twitching as she came harder than she ever had before. The image of God faded away, replaced by a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations that left her breathless and spent.
Y/n collapsed back onto her bed, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. Slowly, she withdrew the hairbrush handle from her dripping pussy, a low whimper escaping her lips as she felt the sudden emptiness.
She lay there for a moment, catching her breath and trying to process the overwhelming emotions that coursed through her. Shame, guilt, and a lingering sense of arousal all battled for dominance in her mind.
As the haze of lust began to clear, Y/n's thoughts turned once again to the forbidden nature of her fantasies. She knew that what she had done was wrong, that her desires were sinful and unholy. But she couldn't deny the intensity of her feelings, the way her body had responded to the mere thought of Oscar.
With a sigh, Y/n sat up and tossed the hairbrush aside, wiping the sticky evidence of her pleasure from her thighs. She knew she needed to put these thoughts out of her mind, to focus on being a good daughter and a devout follower of God.
As the post-orgasmic haze lifted, a wave of embarrassment and shame washed over Y/n. She glanced around her room, suddenly hyper-aware of the sacred objects that surrounded her. Her eyes landed on the small statue of the Virgin Mary that sat on a tiny altar in the corner, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat.
Quickly, Y/n pulled her shorts back on, trying to cover herself as if the statue could see through her clothes and judge her for what she had just done. She avoided looking at the altar, afraid of what she might see in Mary's serene, knowing eyes.
Y/n's mind raced with thoughts of repentance and atonement. She knew she needed to pray, to ask for forgiveness for her sinful actions. But even as she thought about kneeling before the altar and confessing her sins, a small part of her rebelled against the idea.
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Y/n stumbled into the bathroom, her legs still shaky from the intensity of her orgasm. She turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on her face, hoping to wash away the lingering flush of arousal from her cheeks.
But as she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew that no amount of water could cleanse her of the sins she had just committed. Her eyes were dark and haunted, her expression a mix of shame and lingering desire.
She grabbed a washcloth and wiped between her legs, trying to remove any evidence of her self-pleasure. But even as she scrubbed, she knew it was futile. The stain of her sin ran deeper than any soap or water could reach.
Y/n's mind wandered back to the statue of the Virgin Mary in her room, and she felt a pang of guilt. She knew she should be praying, should be asking for forgiveness, and vowing to do better. But the thought of facing Mary, of confessing her sins to the mother of God herself, filled her with dread.
She emerged from the bathroom, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She made her way to the kitchen, her mind still reeling from the intensity of her sinful thoughts.
She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with cool water from the tap, taking a long sip to calm her nerves. The liquid soothed her parched throat, but did little to quench the thirst that still burned within her.
Y/n hopped up onto the kitchen counter, her feet dangling as she sat perched on the cool granite. It was a habit her father had always playfully scolded her for, but in his absence, she found herself craving the rebellious thrill of it.
As she swung her legs back and forth, Y/n's mind drifted once again to Oscar. She wondered what he was doing, if he was thinking about her too. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her body, and she squeezed her thighs together, trying to ignore the renewed ache between her legs.
Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she heard the unexpected knock at the door. She quickly composed herself and made her way over, smoothing down her hair and adjusting her clothes before opening it.
To her surprise, she found Alexandra standing there, her back turned as she waved goodbye to Rebecca, who was walking away down the path. Y/n blinked in confusion, wondering what her best friend was doing here so suddenly.
"Alexandra? What are you doing here?" Y/n asked, her voice still slightly breathless from her earlier activities.
Alexandra turned around, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she took in Y/n's flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance. "I thought I'd come over and keep you company while your dad makes breakfast," she said, her tone playful and suggestive. "Plus, I figured you could use some girl talk after the way you were eye fucking one of the altar boys earlier."
Y/n let out an exasperated groan, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red as Alexandra's words confirmed her suspicions. Of course her best friend had noticed her shameless ogling of Oscar. There was no hiding anything from Alexandra.
"Ugh, don't remind me," Y/n muttered, stepping aside to let Alexandra enter the house. "Was I actually that obvious? I must have looked like such a creep."
Alexandra laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she brushed past Y/n and made her way into the living room. "Oh please, you weren't that bad. Besides, I'm sure he didn't mind the attention. He seemed pretty smitten with you too."
As she spoke, Alexandra called out in a loud, sing-song voice, "Good morning, Mr. L/n! Wherever you are!"
Y/n shook her head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No, Dad's not home. He had to leave for an emergency meeting or something."
Alexandra raised an eyebrow, her nose wrinkling slightly as she sniffed the air. "Huh, that explains why I don't smell any food. Your dad usually has something cooking by now after Mass."
Y/n nodded, feeling a pang of sadness at the realization. Her father's absence always left a void in the house, a sense of incompleteness that she couldn't quite shake.
"Yeah, I'll have to fend for myself until Wednesday," she sighed, leading Alexandra towards the kitchen. "Want some cereal or something? It's not exactly gourmet, but it'll have to do."
Alexandra shrugged, a playful smirk on her face as she followed Y/n into the kitchen. "Sure, cereal sounds great. It's better than nothing at all."
As they rummaged through the cupboards for bowls and spoons, Alexandra couldn't help but notice the lingering tension in the air. She knew Y/n well enough to sense when something was bothering her, and the way her friend had been acting lately was definitely out of the ordinary.
"So, you wanna talk about it?" Alexandra asked softly, pouring milk into her bowl of cereal. "I know something's been on your mind lately. You've been distracted, and I'm worried about you."
Y/n hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the box of cereal. She knew she could trust Alexandra, but the thought of voicing her forbidden desires out loud made her stomach twist with anxiety.
Alexandra's eyes softened with understanding, and she reached out to place a comforting hand on Y/n's arm. "Hey, it's okay," she reassured her, her voice gentle and encouraging. "There's nothing you could say that would be too much information for me. We've been through way too much together for that."
She chuckled lightly, remembering their teenage years and the countless sleepovers and baths they had shared. "Seriously, Y/n, you can tell me anything. I'm here for you, no matter what."
Y/n took a deep breath, her heart racing as she weighed her options. She knew she could trust Alexandra with her life, but the thought of confessing her sinful desires still made her palms sweat with nervousness.
As Alexandra took a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession she knew she needed to make. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her palms grew clammy with nerves, but she forced herself to speak.
"I... I masturbated while thinking about Oscar," Y/n blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper. She kept her eyes fixed on her bowl of cereal, unable to meet Alexandra's gaze as she waited for her friend's reaction.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, Alexandra lowered her spoon, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wait, what?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. "Who are you talking about?"
Y/n nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she realized Alexandra's confusion. "Yeah, I know you're not exactly the best with names and faces," she said, shaking her head. "He's one of the altar boys, one of the tallest out of all the servers earlier."
Alexandra's eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. "Oh, shit," she breathed, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "You mean the hot one with the wavy-ish hair and the dimples?"
Y/n felt her cheeks flush with heat, and she nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, that's the one," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't stop thinking about him, Alexandra. It's like every time I close my eyes, I see his face, and I..."
She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as a wave of shame and desire washed over her.
Y/n buried her face in her palms, a loud groan escaping her lips as she tried to find the words to express the depth of her shame and desire. "Fuck, man," she mumbled, her voice muffled by her hands. "I literally thought about..."
She stopped abruptly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she realized what she was about to say. Taking a deep breath, Y/n slowly lowered her hands, revealing a face that was equal parts mortified and determined.
"I... I wanted to get bent over the altar," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. "With him. With Oscar."
Alexandra's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock as she processed Y/n's confession. For a moment, she simply stared at her friend, her brain struggling to compute the sheer audacity of what Y/n had just admitted.
Alexandra let out a low whistle, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and disbelief. "Lord have mercy on your soul..." she joked, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "I never thought of you as the type to have such wild fantasies, Y/n."
Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I know," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I've always been the good girl, the pastor's daughter who always took the chance to pray and set a good example."
She paused for a moment, her brow furrowing as she tried to find the right words to explain the turmoil that raged within her. "But lately, I've been feeling... restless. Like there's this part of me that wants to break free, to explore things that I've always been taught are wrong or sinful."
Y/n's voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she continued, her eyes downcast and her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and excitement. "I mean, I've already explored them, yeah, but..." She trailed off, biting her lip as she struggled to find the right words.
"I want to experience these things without the fear of being dragged to hell by the devil himself," she finally admitted, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. "I want to feel alive, Alexandra. I want to know what it's like to give in to my desires, to let go of all the rules and restrictions that have been holding me back for so long."
Alexandra listened intently, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on Y/n's arm, her touch gentle and reassuring.
She smiled warmly, her eyes shining with a mix of affection and understanding. "It's okay, Y/n," Alexandra said softly, her voice filled with reassurance. "That's why we have each other. We're here so that we can express ourselves freely to each other without judgment."
She squeezed Y/n's arm gently, her touch a silent reminder of the unbreakable bond they shared. "You don't have to be afraid to explore your... fantasies, Y/n. I'm here for you, no matter what. And if anyone tries to drag you to hell for it, they'll have to go through me first."
Y/n let out a soft laugh, her eyes brimming with tears of gratitude and relief. She knew she could always count on Alexandra to be there for her, to support her no matter what.
Alexandra grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with a playful glint as she leaned in closer to Y/n. "Well, if you really want to explore these desires of yours, maybe you should just seduce him," she suggested, her voice low and conspiratorial.
Y/n's eyes widened, and she let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Alexandra!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and amusement. "I can't just go up to him and... and..."
She trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as she considered the possibility. "Although..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe it's not such a bad idea. After all, what's the worst that could happen?"
Alexandra took a bite of her cereal, a playful smirk on her face as she chewed thoughtfully. "I don't know, you could get disowned if your father finds out," she said, her tone light and teasing.
Y/n's eyes widened in panic, and she leaned forward, her voice rising with each word. "Wait, do you really think he would disown me?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.
Alexandra's own eyes widened in surprise, and she waved her hands frantically in front of her. "No, no, of course not!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "He'll be mad, yes, but he won't disown you. I was just joking, Y/n. Don't freak out."
Y/n let out a shaky laugh, her hand pressed against her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart. "Please, never do that again," she pleaded, her voice still tinged with a hint of panic. "I might die of a heart attack before the alcohol I consume weekly gets to my liver."
Alexandra rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of guilt in her expression. "Fine, fine, I'll try to be more sensitive to your delicate constitution," she teased, her tone softening as she reached out to pat Y/n's hand reassuringly.
"But seriously, Y/n, you know your dad loves you. He might be strict, and he might be disappointed if he found out about your... extracurricular activities, but he would never disown you. You're his daughter, and nothing will ever change that."
Y/n nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she felt the tension drain from her body. "Yeah, you're right," she agreed, her voice soft and grateful. "I know my dad loves me, no matter what."
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the question that had been nagging at her since she saw Alexandra with Rebecca earlier. "So, what's going on between you and Rebecca?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral. "I mean, you practically pounced on her before I even left your room. Are you guys...?"
Alexandra's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she busied herself with her cereal, avoiding Y/n's gaze. "Nothing," she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the clink of her spoon against the bowl. "We're just friends."
Y/n raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by Alexandra's dismissive response. "Just friends?" she pressed, her tone skeptical. "Because it looked like there was something more going on between you two."
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The next day, Y/n found herself at the church, as she often did in her free time. She moved through the familiar space with ease, straightening pews and dusting shelves, lost in thought as she reflected on her conversation with Alexandra the day before.
As she made her way behind the altar in search of the broom they used indoors, Y/n ran into Oscar. He was kneeling on the floor, his head bowed in prayer, his wavy hair falling across his forehead.
Y/n froze, her heart skipping a beat as she took in the sight of him. He looked so peaceful, so serene, and she felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.
"Oscar?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own breathing.
Oscar startled at the sound of her voice, his head snapping up to look at her. His eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush crept across his cheeks as he realized who it was.
“Oh my, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were praying.” Y/n said shyly, realizing she may have interrupted his sacred time with God.
Oscar stood up, brushing off his knees as he turned to face Y/n. "Hi," he said, his voice soft and warm. "No need to apologize. I was just finishing up anyway."
Y/n felt a rush of relief wash over her, and she smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, okay. Good," she said, her voice trembling slightly with nerves. "I was just looking for the broom. I'm supposed to be cleaning up around here."
Oscar nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "I can help you with that," he offered, gesturing towards the supply closet where the cleaning supplies were kept. "It's my turn to clean the altar anyway."
Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the prospect of spending more time with Oscar, and she felt a sudden surge of excitement mixed with anxiety. "That would be great," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Thank you."
Oscar handed Y/n the broom, and they made their way out into the main sanctuary. As Oscar began cleaning the altar, Y/n started sweeping the floor, the soft swish of the broom mingling with the hushed conversations of the churchgoers.
The congregation seemed unbothered by their presence, as it was a fairly normal sight to see the altar boys tending to the altar and Y/n cleaning. They went about their tasks quietly, the only sounds being the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional clink of metal as Oscar polished the candlesticks.
As Y/n swept, her mind wandered back to her conversation with Alexandra. She couldn't help but think about what it would be like to be with Oscar, to feel his strong hands on her body, to taste his lips against hers. The thought made her cheeks flush with heat, and she quickly pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
Y/n found herself zoning out, her mind wandering as she swept the same spots over and over again, as if trying to erase some invisible stain. She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice when Oscar had finished cleaning the altar and had moved on to wiping down the glass cases that held the statues of various saints.
It wasn't until she heard the soft clink of glass that Y/n snapped back to reality, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realized how distracted she had been. She glanced over at Oscar, who was diligently working his way down the line of statues, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Y/n bit her lip, her heart racing as she watched him work. She couldn't help but admire the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, the way his hair fell across his forehead as he leaned in to clean the higher shelves. It was almost enough to make her forget where they were, to make her want to reach out and touch him, consequences be damned.
She quickly made her way back behind the altar, putting the broom away in its designated spot. She then headed to the front pew, the same place she had sat in yesterday and for years before, having been the one to always read the second readings during mass.
As she settled onto the hard wooden bench, Y/n let out a soft sigh, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She could still feel the heat of Oscar's presence, the way her heart had raced as she watched him work. It was almost too much to bear, the desire that coursed through her veins, the longing to be close to him.
Y/n closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pew as she tried to calm her racing thoughts. She knew it was wrong, that she should be focused on her faith, on serving God, but she couldn't deny the way her body responded to Oscar's presence.
As she sat there, lost in thought, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change, that her life was about to take a turn she never could have anticipated.
Y/n's eyes fluttered open as she felt the pew shift slightly beside her. She turned her head to see Oscar settling in next to her, a slightly damp rag clutched in his hand.
"Man, that was exhausting," he said, his voice low and tired. "I don't know how you do it, Y/n. Cleaning this whole place by yourself."
Y/n smiled softly, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice so close to her. "It's not so bad," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's kind of peaceful, actually. A chance to clear my head and just... be."
She shifted slightly, her thigh brushing against Oscar's as she did so. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat.
Oscar turned to look at Y/n, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Be...?" he repeated, his voice trailing off as he searched her face for answers.
Y/n bit her lip, her heart racing as she tried to find the right words to explain the turmoil that raged within her. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm not really living, you know? Like I'm just going through the motions, pretending to be someone I'm not."
She paused, her gaze drifting to the stained glass windows that cast a puzzle of colors across the sanctuary. "But when I'm here, cleaning, praying... it's like I can finally breathe. Like I can finally be myself."
Oscar nodded slowly, his eyes softening with understanding. "I know what you mean," he said, his voice low and earnest. "Sometimes it feels like the whole world is expecting us to be something we're not. To fit into these perfect little boxes that don't really exist."
Y/n let out a quiet groan, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the pew. "This is making me sad," she admitted, her voice heavy with emotion.
Oscar's brow furrowed with concern, and he reached out to place a comforting hand on Y/n's arm. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin. "Let's do something fun. How about we go get a milkshake at the diner?"
Y/n's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "Sure," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That sounds perfect."
They stood up from the pew, Oscar's hand lingering on Y/n's arm for a moment longer than necessary. As they made their way out of the church, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement mixed with nervousness. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn't be feeling this way, but she couldn't deny the way her heart raced at the prospect of spending more time with Oscar.
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The diner was a short, five-minute walk away from the church, nestled on the corner of Main Street. As they stepped inside, the bell above the door chimed, announcing their arrival. The scent of fried food and coffee hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sound of clinking dishes and low chatter.
Oscar led the way to a booth in the back, sliding in across from Y/n. She watched as he flagged down the waitress, ordering a chocolate milkshake for himself and a vanilla one for her. Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.
"Vanilla is my favorite," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you know?"
Oscar grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Your dad talks about you a lot," he admitted, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I may have picked up a few things."
Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at the thought of her father talking about her, of Oscar taking the time to listen and remember the little details.
As the milkshakes arrived, Y/n found her mind drifting back to her conversation with Alexandra. The words "seduce him" echoed in her head, a tantalizing whisper that set her heart racing.
Without thinking, Y/n reached for the whipped cream on top of her milkshake, scooping up a dollop with her finger. She brought it to her lips, her tongue darting out to lick it off slowly and deliberately. It was an innocent gesture, but there was something undeniably sensual about the way she did it, the way her eyes locked with Oscar's as she savored the sweetness.
"Mmm, delicious," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "I love vanilla."
Oscar's eyes widened, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Y/n's lips, from the way they glistened with the remnants of the whipped cream.
"I... I'm glad you like it," he stammered, his voice rough with emotion.
Y/n tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck. She bent forward, her lips parting as she took the cherry from the top of the whipped cream, her tongue darting out to catch the sweet, sticky juice.
She sat back up, a playful laugh escaping her lips as she caught Oscar's wide-eyed stare. He was praying in his head, begging God not to tempt him like this, to keep him pure and innocent. But with each passing moment, each glimpse of Y/n's flesh, his resolve was crumbling.
"What's the matter, Oscar?" Y/n teased, her voice low and sultry. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Oscar swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight. "N-nothing," he stammered, his eyes darting away from hers. "I'm fine."
As they sipped their milkshakes, Y/n continued her innocent yet seductive antics. She ran her fingers along the rim of the glass, her eyes never leaving Oscar's face as she watched him squirm in his seat.
"So tell me, Oscar," she purred, her voice low and breathy. "What do you like to do for fun?"
Oscar nearly choked on his milkshake, coughing and sputtering as he tried to regain his composure. "I... I like to read," he managed, his voice hoarse. "And play guitar. And... and help out at the church."
Y/n leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she propped her chin in her hands. "That's nice," she said, her voice dripping with honey. "I bet you're really good with your hands. With the guitar, I mean."
Y/n leaned back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took another sip of her milkshake. "You know, Oscar," she said, her voice low and sultry, "I've always wondered what it would be like to play the guitar."
She set her glass down, her tongue darting out to lick a stray drop of milkshake from the corner of her mouth. "Maybe you could teach me sometime," she purred, her gaze never leaving his. "I'm a quick learner."
Oscar's heart was pounding in his chest, his palms sweaty as he gripped the edge of the table. He knew he should put a stop to this, to tell Y/n that he couldn't be her teacher, that it was wrong. But the temptation was too great, the desire too strong.
"I... I'd be happy to teach you," he managed, his voice rough with emotion. "Anytime you want."
Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay, I'll think about it," she said, her voice light and airy. As she shifted in her seat, her foot brushed against Oscar's thigh, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through his body.
"Oops," she giggled, her cheeks flushing with feigned innocence. "Sorry about that."
Oscar's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure. He knew it was just an accident, that Y/n didn't mean anything by it. But the way she looked at him, the way her foot lingered on his thigh, it was enough to drive him wild with desire.
"It's... it's okay," he managed, his voice hoarse and strained. "Accidents happen."
Y/n leaned forward, her eyes wide and innocent as she looked up at Oscar through her lashes. "Hey, Oscar," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "Can I try a sip of your milkshake? I've never had the chocolate flavor before. My dad always gets the black coffee, and I've just been getting vanilla ever since I was a kid."
Oscar's heart skipped a beat at the request, his mind racing with the implications. He knew it was just a milkshake, just a simple, innocent gesture. But the way Y/n looked at him, the way her lips parted as she waited for his answer, it was enough to make his head spin.
"Sure," he managed, his voice rough with emotion. He slid his glass across the table, his fingers brushing against hers as she reached for it.
Y/n wrapped her lips around the straw, her eyes never leaving Oscar's as she took a long, slow sip. She let out a soft moan of appreciation, savoring the taste.
"Mmm, it's good," Y/n purred, her eyes half-lidded as she set the glass back down on the table. "But I still prefer my vanilla milkshake."
She took another sip of her own drink, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of cream on her bottom lip. "There's just something about the simplicity of vanilla, you know? It's pure, untainted. Innocent."
Oscar swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He knew Y/n was just talking about the milkshake, but the way she spoke, the way her words seemed to hang in the air between them, it was enough to make his head spin.
"I... I understand," he managed, his voice hoarse. "Vanilla is a classic for a reason."
Y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Exactly," she said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. "Sometimes, the simplest things are the most satisfying."
Y/n leaned back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked up at Oscar. "Hey, Oscar," she said, her voice low and sultry. "My dad's not going to be home tonight, so I was thinking... maybe you could come over later and help me practice guitar?"
She bit her lip, her teeth sinking into the soft, plump flesh as she waited for his response. "We could stay up late, just the two of us. I'm sure you could teach me a thing or two."
Oscar's heart was pounding in his chest, his palms sweaty as he gripped the edge of the table. He knew it was a bad idea, that he should say no, that he should run as far away from Y/n as possible. But the temptation was too great, the desire too strong.
"I'd- I'd love to," he managed, his voice rough but hesitant. "Just give me a call when you're ready."
Y/n clapped her hands together, her face lighting up with excitement. "Yay!" she exclaimed, her voice high and girlish. "I can't wait to learn how to play guitar."
She leaned back in her seat, her demeanor shifting to something more playful and innocent. As they continued to talk, Oscar found himself struggling to focus, his mind still reeling from Y/n's bold flirtation.
He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, his skin flushed and tingling with a strange new sensation. He had never felt so... desired before, so wanted. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, a rush of adrenaline that left him breathless and dizzy.
Throughout the rest of their conversation, Oscar found himself stealing glances at Y/n, his eyes lingering on the curve of her lips, and the softness of her skin. He knew it was wrong, that he should push these feelings aside and focus on his faith, but he couldn't help the way his heart raced at the thought of seeing her again later, of being alone with her in the privacy of her home.
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Y/n walked towards the door, her heart racing with anticipation. She had chosen her outfit carefully, wanting to strike a balance between comfort and allure. She wore a pair of shorts that were short enough to reveal an unholy amount of skin, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places.
On top, she had opted for a white shirt that was sheer enough to hint at the outline of her bra beneath, the delicate lace peeking through the thin fabric, contrasting the gold cross necklace she had worn her entire life
As she reached for the doorknob, Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for the evening ahead. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn't be feeling this way about Oscar. But she couldn't deny the thrill that ran through her at the thought of being alone with him, of having his undivided attention.
With a final twist of the knob, Y/n pulled open the door, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Oscar standing on the other side. "Hey there," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "Come on in."
Oscar stepped inside, his eyes widening as he took in Y/n's appearance. "Thanks for inviting me," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
Y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "No need to thank me, Oscar," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "I'm the one who should be thanking you for agreeing to teach me."
She gestured towards the living room, her hips swaying slightly as she walked. "We can practice in here, it's nice and spacious. But fair warning, it's a bit hot in here. No AC."
Y/n turned back to face him, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Or we could practice in my room. It's a bit smaller, but the AC works perfectly. Your choice."
"I think I'd prefer a cold room over a hot one," he said shyly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
She shot him a warm smile, "Okay, follow me." She gestured, making her way up the stairs.
scar's gaze flickered over the photos lining the walls as Y/n led him upstairs, his heart clenching at the sight of her and her father together. There were pictures of them at the beach, at her graduation, at various milestones throughout her life. Occasionally, a photo of Alexandra and Y/n would appear, the two girls grinning at the camera, their arms slung around each other's waists.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Y/n paused, turning to face Oscar. "My room's just down the hall," she said, her voice soft. "Last door on the right."
She started walking again, her hips swaying slightly as she moved. Oscar followed behind her, his eyes glued to the gentle curve of her spine, the way her shirt clung to her back.
When they reached her room, Y/n pushed open the door, gesturing for Oscar to enter. "After you," she purred, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
The room was exactly as Oscar had imagined it would be. Simple, minimalistic, with a white metal bed frame and a small crucifix hanging above it. In the corner, there was a small altar with a statue of the Virgin Mary, and on the bedside table, a pink pearl rosary lay coiled neatly. The bedspread was mostly white, with delicate pink flowers scattered across the surface, and the pillowcases were the reverse, with a pink background and white flowers.
"You can sit wherever you're comfortable," Y/n said, gesturing to the bed and the floor. "I'll go grab my dad's guitar."
As she turned to leave, Oscar's eyes lingered on the bed, on the soft, inviting surface. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was here to teach Y/n how to play guitar, nothing more.
He settled himself on the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern of the bedspread. The room was cool and quiet, the hum of the air conditioner a soothing background noise.
As he waited for Y/n to return, he couldn't help but notice the subtle details of her room. There was a faint, delicate scent of jasmine in the air, which he later discovered came from a small air freshener perched on her dresser. Everywhere he looked, there were hints of innocence - the soft pink hues of her bedding, the occasional hair tie scattered on her nightstand, the various rings she wore on her slender fingers.
On the wall, there was a framed dried flower, its petals faded and brittle with age. Oscar wondered about its significance, about the memories it held for Y/n.
The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see Y/n entering the room, a guitar case in her hands. She set it down on the bed beside him, her fingers lingering on the smooth, worn leather.
"Okay," she said, her voice bright and eager. "Let's get started."
Oscar helped Y/n remove the guitar from its case, his fingers brushing against hers as he took it from her hands. He held it up, examining it closely. "When was the last time this was tuned?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Y/n bit her lip, her eyes darting away from his. "To be honest, we haven't used it in about two years," she admitted, her voice sheepish. "We kind of forgot about it."
Oscar nodded, his fingers plucking at the strings experimentally. They were out of tune, the notes discordant and jarring. "No worries," he said, his voice reassuring. "We can tune it right now."
He sat down on the bed, patting the space beside him for Y/n to join. As she settled in next to him, Oscar began to tune the guitar, his fingers moving deftly over the strings. The room filled with the soft, melodic sounds of the instrument coming to life, the notes blending together in perfect harmony.
Oscar finished tuning the guitar and handed it to Y/n, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary. "Here you go," he said, his voice soft. "Now, let's start with the basics."
He sat beside her on the bed, his leg brushing against hers as he demonstrated the proper way to hold the guitar. "Keep your thumb behind the neck of the guitar," he instructed, his hand guiding hers. "And wrap your fingers around the fretboard like this."
As he showed her how to position her fingers, Oscar couldn't help but notice the way Y/n's hands felt in his, the softness of her skin, the delicate strength in her fingers. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand.
"Now, let's try strumming," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. He reached over, his hand covering hers as he guided the pick across the strings. The guitar came alive under their touch, the notes ringing out clear and bright.
"Good job," Oscar said, his voice warm with approval. He leaned in closer, his eyes focused on the way Y/n was holding the guitar. It seemed awkward, her fingers splayed across the fretboard in an unnatural position.
As he tried to adjust her grip, his gaze drifted lower, drawn to the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage peeking out from the neckline of her shirt. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as his eyes lingered on the soft swell of her breasts.
Realizing what he was doing, Oscar quickly closed his eyes, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He couldn't let himself be tempted like this, not when he was supposed to be teaching her, guiding her.
He forced himself to focus on the guitar, on the feel of the smooth wood beneath his fingers, the cool metal of the strings. "Let's try that again," he said, his voice strained. "This time, keep your wrist straight, like this."
His hand covered hers once more, his touch gentle but firm as he guided her through the proper technique.
As Y/n began to get the hang of the guitar, her fingers moving more confidently across the fretboard, Oscar felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. She was a natural, her hands seeming to instinctively find the right positions, the right chords.
But then, in a moment of enthusiasm, Y/n applied too much pressure to one of the strings, the sharp edge of the fret digging into her fingertip. She gasped, her hand jerking away from the guitar as a thin line of blood welled up on her finger.
"Ouch!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise and pain. She brought her finger to her mouth, sucking on the wound instinctively.
Oscar's heart clenched at the sight, his hand reaching out to steady the guitar as it threatened to slip from her lap. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Y/n nodded, her eyes meeting his. "It's just a little cut," she said, her voice muffled by her finger. "Nothing serious."
Oscar could see the pain in Y/n's eyes, the way she was trying to hold back tears. His heart ached for her, and he reached out, taking her hand in his. "Let me see," he said softly, his thumb brushing over the cut on her finger.
"It must hurt," he murmured, his brow furrowed with concern. "Do you have a bandaid here?"
Y/n nodded, pointing to the small desk in the corner of her room. "Yeah, there's a box in the drawer."
He stood up, crossing the room to retrieve the bandages. As he rummaged through the drawer, he couldn't help but notice the personal items scattered amongst the clutter- a hairbrush, a tube of lip gloss, a few loose change. He felt a pang of guilt for intruding on her private space but pushed the feeling aside.
He returned to the bed, sitting down beside Y/n once more. "Here," he said, holding out a small, square bandage. "Let me put this on for you."
Oscar carefully applied the bandage to Y/n's finger, his touch gentle and precise. As he finished, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. There was only the two of them, the warmth of the room, the softness of the bed beneath them.
Before Oscar could react, Y/n leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tender kiss. He froze for a moment, his mind reeling with shock and confusion. But as Y/n's lips moved against his, he found himself kissing her back, his own inexperience evident in the awkward, tentative movements of his mouth.
Y/n could tell that Oscar hadn't kissed anyone before, and a part of her was thrilled at the idea of being his first. She deepened the kiss, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open for her.
Oscar pulled away from the kiss, his heart pounding in his chest. He was flustered, his mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions and desires. "Y/n, we can't," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is the devil tempting us, trying to lead us astray."
But Y/n wasn't having it. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. "Then why does it feel so good?" she whispered, her voice low and seductive. "Tell me you want me too, Oscar. I don't care if we're going to hell for it. I just need you."
Her words sent a shiver down Oscar's spine, his body responding to her touch, her proximity. He knew it was wrong, that he should resist, that he should push her away. But the desire coursing through his veins was too strong, too overwhelming.
"I... I do want you," he admitted, his voice trembling with longing. "But we can't. It's not right."
Y/n's eyes gleamed with determination as she gazed into Oscar's conflicted face. She knew she had him on the hook, and she wasn't about to let him slip away.
"Oscar," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "Don't you believe that God forgives those who truly repent? That He understands the weakness of the flesh?"
She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "We can give in to this temptation, just this once. And then we can confess our sins, ask for forgiveness. It's not like we're doing anything truly sinful, after all. We're human, we can sin every once in a while."
Oscar's breath hitched in his throat, his resolve crumbling under the weight of Y/n's persuasive words. He knew what she was saying made sense, that it was a logical argument. But still, a small part of him hesitated, unsure if he was truly ready to cross that line.
Y/n's words washed over Oscar like a tidal wave, eroding his resistance with each passing second. "It's a sign, Oscar," she breathed, her eyes wide and imploring. "Look around you. It's just the two of us, nobody to disturb us, nobody to judge us. Maybe it's meant to be. Maybe we're meant to give in to our desires, just this one time."
Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. Oscar's heart raced, his body responding to her touch despite his mind's protests. He knew what she was saying made sense, that they were alone, that no one would ever know. But still, a part of him hesitated, unsure if he was truly ready to cross that line.
Y/n leaned in closer, her lips hovering just inches from his. "Please, Oscar," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "I need you. I want you. Let's just forget about everything else for a while and focus on each other."
Oscar's resolve was crumbling, his body betraying his mind as Y/n's seductive words washed over him. "But they're watching," he whispered, his eyes darting to the crucifix and the statue of the Virgin Mary.
Y/n followed his gaze, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Let them watch," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "They know this is natural, Oscar. They'll understand. It's not like we're committing some unforgivable sin."
She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "God created us with these desires, Oscar. He wouldn't condemn us for acting on them."
His heart raced, his body responding to Y/n's touch despite his mind's protests. He knew what she was saying made sense, that it was a logical argument.
Y/n's hands slid down Oscar's chest, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. "Don't you see, Oscar?" she breathed, her eyes dark with desire. "This is meant to be. We're meant to be together, to share this moment. It's a gift from God."
Her lips trailed along his jawline, her teeth grazing his skin. "Think about it," she murmured, her voice low and seductive. "We're alone, with no one to disturb us. No one to judge us. It's like we're in our own little world, a world where the only thing that matters is us."
Oscar's breath hitched in his throat, his body responding to Y/n's touch despite his mind's protests. He knew what she was saying made sense, that it was a logical argument. But still, a part of him hesitated, unsure if he was truly ready to cross that line.
Oscar's resistance finally crumbled, his body melting into Y/n's embrace as he returned her kisses with a shy, tentative passion. "I... I don't know how to please a woman," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never... I'm a virgin."
Y/n's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before being replaced by a look of tender understanding. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her fingers caressing his cheek. "I'll guide you, Oscar. We'll take it slow, and I'll show you everything you need to know."
She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "Just trust me, and let yourself feel. Let yourself experience the pleasure that God has gifted us with."
Y/n gently guided Oscar to sit on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Just relax," she murmured, her voice soft and reassuring. "I'll take care of you."
She knelt down in front of him, her eyes level with his crotch. Slowly, teasingly, she ran her hands up his thighs, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through the fabric of his jeans.
Oscar's breath hitched in his throat, his body responding to her touch despite his nervousness. He had never been this intimate with anyone before, and the thought of Y/n touching him in such a way both thrilled and terrified him.
Y/n's fingers dug into Oscar's thighs, her nails lightly scraping against his skin as she squeezed and massaged the firm muscle. She could feel him shudder under her touch, his body responding to her teasing caresses.
A wicked smile played on her lips as she heard his sharp intake of breath. She loved seeing him like this, vulnerable and at her mercy. It was a heady feeling, knowing that she had the power to make him tremble with desire.
Slowly, deliberately, she reached for the zipper of his jeans, her fingers toying with the metal tab. She could see the bulge in his pants, the evidence of his arousal, and it only served to fuel her own desire.
With a swift tug, she pulled down his zipper, the sound of the metal teeth parting echoing in the quiet room. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and boxers, pulling them down in one smooth motion until they pooled around his ankles.
Oscar flinched as Y/n eagerly tugged down his jeans and boxers, exposing his most intimate parts to her hungry gaze. Feeling shy and embarrassed by her boldness, he quickly covered his face and mouth with one hand, hiding behind it as she began to touch him.
Y/n's fingers danced along his inner thighs, slowly making their way higher and higher. She could feel his body trembling under her touch, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She reveled in the power she held over him, in the way she could make him quiver with just a simple caress.
"Relax, Oscar," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "There's no need to be shy. I'm going to make you feel so good."
Her hand wrapped around his hardening length, her fingers stroking him slowly, teasingly. Oscar let out a low moan, his hips bucking involuntarily as she touched him.
Oscar whimpered as Y/n's fingers danced along his sensitive skin, her touch both tantalizing and overwhelming. "Have you ever touched yourself?" she asked, her voice low and seductive.
Oscar's face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes darting away from hers. "N-no," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Y/n chuckled, her fingers continuing their teasing exploration. "I don't believe you," she purred, her thumb grazing the tip of his hardening length.
He let out a low moan, his hips bucking involuntarily as she touched him. "I... I tried," he admitted, his voice trembling with embarrassment. "But I didn't know how."
Y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Give me your hand," she purred, her voice low and seductive.
Oscar hesitated for a moment, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. But as Y/n's fingers intertwined with his, he found himself giving in to her guidance.
She wrapped his hand around his hardening length, her fingers gently curling around his own. "Like this," she murmured, her voice soft and encouraging. "You can go slow."
She guided his hand in a slow, steady rhythm, her fingers gliding along his shaft with each stroke. Oscar let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the sensation.
"Or you can go faster," Y/n whispered, her hand speeding up the pace. Oscar gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily as she increased the intensity of his strokes.
Oscar's shy moans filled the room as Y/n continued to guide his hand, her fingers curling around his own as she showed him how to stroke himself. "That feels good, doesn't it?" she purred, her voice low and seductive.
He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he lost himself in the sensation. He had never felt anything like this before, the pleasure coursing through his body like a raging river.
Y/n's hand sped up, her fingers gliding along his shaft with each stroke. Oscar's breath came in short, sharp gasps, his hips bucking involuntarily as she increased the intensity of his pleasure.
"You're doing so well, Oscar," she murmured, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Just let yourself feel it. Let yourself enjoy it."
Y/n's fingers slowed their strokes, her hand still intertwined with Oscar's as she guided him. "I'm going to do something now," she whispered, her voice low and seductive. "Don't freak out, okay?"
Oscar nodded, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Okay," he managed to choke out, his eyes wide with anticipation and nervousness.
Slowly, teasingly, Y/n leaned forward, her lips parting as she took the tip of his cock into her mouth. Oscar let out a low, guttural moan, his fingers tightening around hers as he felt the warm, wet heat of her mouth enveloping him.
Her head bobbed up and down, her lips sealed tightly around Oscar's shaft as she began to suck. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, her cheeks hollowing as she increased the suction.
Oscar's fingers tightened around hers, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. But as Y/n guided his hands away from his cock, he found himself letting go, his palms coming to rest on her shoulders as she took him deeper into her mouth.
The cross necklace around Y/n's neck dangled and swayed with each movement of her head, the gold chain catching the light as it brushed against her skin. Oscar watched, transfixed, as the symbol of her faith bounced and twirled, a stark contrast to the act she was performing.
Y/n's lips stretched around his length, her throat constricting as she took him deeper and deeper. Oscar's head fell back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lost himself in the intense pleasure of her mouth.
Oscar's eyes rolled back in his head as Y/n's mouth worked its magic on his throbbing length. "Oh my god," he groaned, the words tumbling from his lips without a second thought.
For a brief moment, the realization that he had just taken the Lord's name in vain flashed through his mind. But the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body quickly pushed any thoughts of sin or guilt aside.
Y/n's tongue swirled around his shaft, her lips sealed tightly around him as she bobbed her head up and down. The wet, obscene sounds of her sucking filled the room, mingling with Oscar's breathy moans and gasps.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, his hips rocking back and forth as he lost himself in the sensation. Nothing else mattered in that moment - not his faith, not his vows, not the consequences of his actions. All that existed was the feeling of Y/n's mouth on his cock, and the all-consuming need for more.
Y/n could feel Oscar's body tensing, his grip on her hair loosening as he neared his climax. His moans grew louder, more desperate, his hips rocking erratically as he chased his release.
But just as he was about to reach the peak, Y/n abruptly stopped, pulling her mouth away from his throbbing length. Oscar let out a strangled cry, his body writhing with frustration.
"No, please, don't stop," he begged, his voice hoarse and pleading. "It felt so good. Please, I need..."
Y/n placed a finger against his lips, silencing him. "Shh, it's okay," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Calm down. It'll feel even better later, I promise. Just trust me on this, okay?"
Oscar's breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with need. But as he looked into Y/n's eyes, he found himself nodding, his trust in her overriding his desperation.
Y/n smiled, pleased with Oscar's compliance. "Good boy," she purred, her eyes roaming hungrily over his nearly naked form. "Now, why don't you take off the rest of your clothes for me?"
Oscar nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head, tossing it aside carelessly before kicking off his jeans, which were still bunched around his ankles.
In his haste to obey Y/n's command, Oscar didn't even notice that she was undressing as well. His eyes were fixed on her face, his body trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.
Y/n's fingers deftly traced the bottom of her shirt, her hips swaying seductively as she slipped it off her shoulders. Her bra followed soon after, revealing her pert breasts to Oscar's wide-eyed gaze. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts, shimmying out of it before sliding her panties down her legs.
Oscar's face flushed a deep crimson as he took in the sight of Y/n's naked body. He wanted to speak, to express the multitude of emotions and desires coursing through him. But the words caught in his throat, his shyness overpowering his courage.
Y/n noticed his hesitation, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Do you need to say anything, Oscar?" she asked, her voice low and inviting. "Don't be shy. It's just the two of us here."
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I... I just..." he stammered, his eyes darting away from hers. "I've never seen a girl naked before. You're so beautiful."
Y/n's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with approval. "Thank you, Oscar," she purred, taking a step closer to him. "And you're pretty cute yourself."
She reached out, her fingers trailing down his chest, his abs, his hips. Oscar shivered under her touch, his body responding to her closeness despite his nervousness.
Y/n noticed Oscar's nervousness, the way his body trembled under her touch. She leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "Hey," she whispered, her breath mingling with his. "Calm down for me, okay? You need to relax."
Oscar's eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting hers. "S-sorry," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just a bit scared."
Y/n smiled, her fingers tracing the contours of his face. "It's okay to be scared," she murmured, her lips brushing against his forehead. "But I'm here with you. I won't let anything happen to you."
She kissed him again, her lips moving softly against his. Oscar melted into the kiss, his fears slowly dissipating as he lost himself in the sensation of her touch, her warmth, her presence.
Y/n noticed the worried expression on Oscar's face, his body tense and uncertain. She cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin. "Hey," she whispered, her voice soft and reassuring. "I'm okay. Don't worry."
She leaned in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. As she did, she rocked her hips, taking him deeper inside her. A gasp escaped her lips, her eyes widening as she felt him stretch her further.
"Fuck," she breathed, her voice strained with a mix of pleasure and discomfort. "You're huge."
Oscar's eyes widened, his body relaxing slightly at her words. He had never heard such a compliment before, and it sent a surge of confidence coursing through him.
Y/n smiled, her hips moving in small, circular motions. "See?" she purred, her lips curling into a seductive smirk. "I can handle you. Just relax and let me take care of you."
Oscar nodded, his body relaxing under Y/n's guidance. "Okay," he breathed, his voice trembling with anticipation.
As Y/n began to move, Oscar's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure. "Oh god," he gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily as she rode him. "Oh fu- oh my god."
She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice low and seductive. "It's okay to swear. It's just between us."
Oscar's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "Fuck," he breathed, the word falling from his lips like a forbidden fruit. "Fuck, Y/n. You feel so good."
She smiled, her hips moving faster, harder. "That's it," she purred, her voice encouraging. "Let go. Say whatever you want. No one's here to judge us."
Y/n's eyes sparkled with mischief as she heard Oscar swear, his voice trembling with pleasure. "That's it," she purred, her hips moving faster, harder. "You sound so pretty when you swear."
She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "God forbid my father ever finds out," she whispered, her voice low and conspiratorial. "But I'd gladly risk it if it meant I could hear this every night."
Oscar's eyes widened, his body tensing at the thought of being discovered. But the pleasure coursing through him was too intense to ignore, and he found himself pushing the thought aside, focusing instead on the feeling of Y/n's body moving against his.
Y/n threw her head back, a loud moan escaping her lips as Oscar hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. "Fuck, right there baby," she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.
But as she felt him tense beneath her, his body shaking with a mix of pleasure and panic, she realized what was happening. "Stop, stop," he whimpered, his voice muffled against her neck. "I-I think I'm gonna pee."
Her eyes widened, but she quickly reassured him. "No, you're not," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "That's just your body's way of telling you you're about to cum."
As if on cue, Oscar's body convulsed, his hips bucking as he released inside her. Y/n gasped, her own orgasm crashing over her as she felt him fill her with his seed.
They lay there for a moment, their breaths gradually slowing as they came down from their high. But as the post-orgasmic haze began to lift, reality started to set in.
Oscar buried his face in Y/n's neck, his voice muffled as he spoke. "That was so... oh my god..."
Y/n's arms tightened around him, her fingers running through his hair in a soothing gesture. "I know," she whispered, her voice soft and understanding. "It's a lot to take in."
She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his face. "Are you okay?" she asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "I mean, physically. Did I hurt you at all?"
Oscar shook his head, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "No," he mumbled, his eyes darting away from hers. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."
Y/n smiled, her fingers tracing the contours of Oscar's face. "That's okay," she murmured, her voice soft and reassuring. "It's normal to feel overwhelmed after your first time. Just take a deep breath and try to relax."
But before Oscar could respond, a loud crack of thunder echoed outside, followed by the sound of heavy rain pelting against the window. Oscar's eyes widened, his body tensing at the sudden noise.
"What was that?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and confusion.
Y/n glanced towards the window, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's just rain," she explained, her fingers still tracing patterns on his skin. "A big storm must have rolled in while we were... distracted."
Oscar's eyes darted between Y/n and the window, his mind struggling to process the new sensory input. The sound of the rain, the flashes of lightning illuminating the room, the scent of petrichor wafting through the air - it was all too much for his overstimulated senses to handle.
She felt his body tense against hers as another clap of thunder boomed outside. She could sense his fear, his discomfort with the sudden storm. "Okay, lay down for me," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "You can use the pillows to cover your ears while I go downstairs, okay?"
He nodded, his face still buried in the crook of her neck. He slowly laid down on the bed, his hands clutching the pillows tightly to his ears.
Y/n smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "I'll call your mom on the landline and let her know you're staying over tonight," she explained, her fingers tracing the shell of his ear. "I can't let you walk home in this rain."
Oscar's eyes widened, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "But my mom..." he started, his voice muffled by the pillows.
"Shh, it's okay," Y/n reassured him, her lips brushing against his temple. "I'll explain everything. Just try to relax, okay?"
Y/n slipped out of the bedroom, pulling her clothes back on. As she made her way downstairs, she glanced back at Oscar, who was lying on the bed staring out the window. His ears were still covered with the pillow, and the bottom half of his body was now draped with the blanket.
She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his vulnerability and innocence shining through despite the intimate act they had just shared. She knew he was scared, overwhelmed by the storm and the new experiences of the day. But she also knew that he trusted her, that he felt safe with her.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation with Oscar's mother. She knew it wouldn't be easy, to explain why her son was spending the night during a thunderstorm. But she also knew that it was the right thing to do, to keep him safe and protected.
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Y/n picked up the phone and dialed Oscar's mother's number, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as she waited for the call to connect.
When Nicole answered, Y/n explained the situation, her voice trembling slightly. "Hi Nicole, it's Y/n. I'm so sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but... Oscar is here with me. We were practicing guitar when the storm hit, and it's just too dangerous for him to walk home right now."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Y/n's heart sank. But then Nicole's voice came through, warm and understanding. "Oh honey, don't worry about it. I was actually just about to call you. I was going to ask if Oscar could stay the night, because I don't want him walking home in this weather either."
Y/n let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as the tension drained from her body. "Thank you so much, Nicole," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I really appreciate your understanding."
Y/n hung up the phone, a wave of relief washing over her. She had been so worried about how Nicole would react, but her understanding and support had put Y/n's mind at ease.
She made her way back upstairs, her footsteps soft on the carpeted steps. As she entered the bedroom, she found Oscar still lying on the bed, his ears covered with the pillow and his body tucked under the blanket.
"Everything's okay," she said softly, perching on the edge of the bed. "Your mom knows you're here, and she's happy for you to stay the night. She was actually just about to call and ask me the same thing."
Oscar's eyes widened, the pillow slipping slightly as he turned to look at her. "Really?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and relief.
Y/n nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Really. She understands about the storm, and she doesn't want you walking home in this weather either."
Y/n rummaged through her closet, pulling out an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. They were clearly her father's clothes, the shirt hanging loosely on her frame as she held them out to Oscar.
"Come on, sit up," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Let me help you get changed."
Oscar hesitated for a moment, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But the thought of wearing his own wet, sticky clothes made him shudder, and he slowly sat up, the blanket falling away from his body.
Y/n helped him into the oversized shirt, the fabric swallowing his smaller frame. She then handed him the shorts, averting her eyes as he slipped them on.
"There," she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Comfy?"
Oscar nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at the oversized clothes. They were comfortable, and he felt a sense of safety and security wearing them.
But as he went to stand up, he suddenly pulled Y/n down with him, plopping back onto the bed. She let out a small "oof" of surprise, but didn't comment on it, realizing that he was just tired and seeking comfort.
Oscar wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he snuggled into the pillow. Y/n could feel his body relaxing against hers, his breathing slowing as he drifted off to sleep.
She smiled, her fingers gently stroking his hair as she watched him sleep. Despite the events of the day, the intimacy they had shared, she felt a sense of peace wash over her.
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The following Sunday, Y/n and Oscar found themselves back at church, sitting in their usual pews. Y/n was scheduled to read a Bible verse about lust, a topic that had taken on a whole new meaning since their encounter last week.
As she stood up to approach the podium, Y/n couldn't help but steal a glance at Oscar. Her eyes met his, and she saw his cheeks flush a deep crimson, his gaze darting away from hers.
She suppressed a smile, remembering the intimate moments they had shared. The thought of the pastor's daughter and an altar server engaging in such activities would surely raise some eyebrows if anyone found out.
Y/n cleared her throat, the microphone crackling to life as she began to read the verse. "For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God..."
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