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dilf-docs · 16 days ago

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I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-"

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes.

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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uncookedfeeler · 3 months ago

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CITRUS I🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 4k, light smut, incest,

Part 2

Parenting is one of life's most transformative experiences. It is a journey filled with joy, growth, challenges and the commitment to raise and guide another human being. From the moment a child is born into the world, parents find themselves on a rollercoaster ride of endless new experiences, emotional highs and lows, and unwavering love.

Parents are caregivers, teachers and coaches, constantly trying to decipher their child's needs and feelings. While the joys of parenting are many, the challenges can be daunting. From sleepless nights with a newborn to the complexities of teenage rebellion, each stage of a child's development brings its own set of hurdles.

After more than fifty years on this planet, half of them with your wife, you're lucky enough to have a 20-year-old girl as your child. From day one she has been the ray of sunshine that lights up your life. She is the person you love most and will remain your most precious treasure until your last breath. But your relationship has changed a lot over the years. Your little princess has gone from being Daddy's little girl to a gorgeous woman who has been driving a wedge between you since she was a teenager.

This distance has increased since she became a famous idol and now lives between the dormitory and your house, although she only stays when she wants to.

As usual, you come home from work late in the evening and enter the lock code to get into your house. Unlike before, the lights are still out and the house is deserted. You leave your keys on the hall stand and walk into the living room, closing the SAS door behind you.

You sigh as you walk through the living room to your bedroom, the room a bit messy with some of your dirty clothes from the night before still on the tripod, you sit down on your bed to remove your tie and finally free your neck, your suit disappears and you put on more relaxed clothes. At the same time, your phone rings and you see the name of one of your colleagues on the display:

"Sorry to call so late, hope I'm not disturbing you?" says a soft voice at the other end of the line.

"Not at all, Mrs Bae, I just got home, what can I do for you?" you reply, laughing.

"The CEO wants to see you in his office tomorrow, he came by earlier but you already left, he said he wants to talk about the last contract you secured".

"Ahahah, the old man already knows it seems, ok ok, noted I'll meet him tomorrow, have a good night Ms.Bae".

"You too, Director"

You put your phone on the bed before returning to the kitchen to prepare your meal and pour yourself a well-deserved beer. With your face still in the fridge, you hear the front door open and a familiar voice echo through the room with a simple "I'm home, I'm tired! "

You immediately know who it is and reply, "Welcome my darling, good to see you home, how was your day, are you hungry?"

Without answering, you see a young woman with red hair jumping onto the sofa.

"Yuna, please take off your shoes before entering the house, and at least take off your jacket, it's quite warm in the house," you begin to reproach your only child.

"Daddy, please don't start, I've already lost my mind today with the girls, leave me alone!" the young woman cries in obvious annoyance.

The routine is back and you make the effort to take off her shoes while she is lying on her stomach on the sofa, you notice her outfit for the day, a black leather jacket hiding a nice white t-shirt and beige trousers, so you take the opportunity to complicate your princess.

"That's a nice outfit, darling."

"Thank you," she replies, blushing.

You put the shoes down in the hallway next to yours and see her already absorbed in her phone, so you try to get the conversation going again:

"What happened to make my little Yuna so upset?" you say.

"I'm not 13 anymore, Dad, you can call me by my first name".

"Ah ah, sorry, Yuna".

"Those bitches stole my concept for the shoot, we had to choose a fruit and we had matching colour outfits, during the pre-shoot meeting we agreed and as luck would have it today they used their "maknae shoot last" rule and took my fruit!!! "

"Please don't shout, so what happened after that?" you try to calm her down.

"What do you think, I got to the shoot and all that was left were shitty concepts, seriously, who the fuck thinks it's sexy to have a lemon in the middle of a t-shirt, they're going to laugh so hard at me for the pictures, I'm so ashamed, I left right after the shoot," she says as she stands up and faces you.

You can see the sadness in her eyes and you want to hug her and tell her that everything will be fine, but now that she's looking at you, you realise that she probably forgot to take off the famous shirt and with great regret you put a big smile on your face, almost on the verge of tears.

"No, darling, I'm sure it's a great shirt," you reply with difficulty.

"PAPA!!!, WHY ARE YOU SNIGGERING?" the young idol cries before following your eyes to her T-shirt, her face falling as she finally realises the reason, you're so sorry, but the situation is really too funny.

As you wipe your eyes you see your princess's blood red eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks and she slaps you hard in the face "I FUCKING HATE YOU, JUST FUCKING DIE YOU AND MOM" before running into her room,

For the second time in your life you feel that pain, the pain you feel when you hurt someone you love, just like your wife did 7 years ago.

The pain on your cheek is almost non-existent, unlike the pain in your heart. You admit that Yuna has become very withdrawn since your wife's departure, and that your clumsiness with her has hurt her before, but never to this extent.

On the one hand, your authority has been challenged once again, and for the first time she's dared to raise a hand to you. On the other hand, there is a deep sadness that hurts you, but also makes you deeply regret your actions.

You hear your daughter's cries through the door and, with a feeble step, you knock on the door before entering.

"Baby....i'm so sorry" you see her lying on her bed, her head in her pillow, her crying stops when she raises her head and looks at you, her face is turned upside down, her make-up has run down her face. Seeing your child like that tears your heart out, even though you're responsible.

"Just go, just go like Mum, you don't even like me, do you? I'm ashamed of you, go and die," she said in a cold, mean tone.

"Baby... "Hearing these words from your little princess hurts and brings tears to your eyes, so you get down on your knees to continue your apology.

"Forgive me," you tell her as your tears begin to fall, Yuna continues to reject you and her words only drive nails into your feelings, you've surely done the irreparable and you decide to get up and leave her room.

You have ruined your last family relationship with the person who meant the most to you.

"I'll bring you dinner later, just rest," you say in an emotionless tone as you grab the door handle to leave.

Your steps towards the living room are slow and your body heavy, only to suddenly hear someone running behind you, the door slamming against the wall, and feel your sweet daughter's body against your back as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

"PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME SORRY," the red one cries with all her hot tears.

You drop to your knees and take your only child in your arms and hold her close, her head is under your chin as she buries herself in your neck, you stroke her head with one hand while the other pats her back, her arms struggle to wrap around your waist but she clings tightly to you.

"I'm sorry darling, I'm sorry for everything, just let it go now, Daddy's here, I won't leave you, ever"

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I love you"

"I love you too, sweetheart"

You stay like this for many minutes before you plant a loving kiss on her forehead, a sign of your unconditional love for her. She's your treasure and the most important woman in your life.

Yuna's red eyes shine into yours and the young idol plants her lips on yours, the sensation is sweet and pleasant, you are morally in a dilemma, never in a million years would you have imagined kissing your daughter like this, but on the other hand you tell yourself that she's probably had too much rejection for today and is just trying to express her love for me.

You allow your daughter to express her desires and she wraps her arms around your neck as you hold her kiss, her tongue meets yours in a first dance, the heat in the corridor rises as her body crashes against yours, you feel her small breasts against your chest and her perfume floods your nostrils.

"Yu..na," you try to stop her, tapping her shoulder as she literally tries to eat your lips.

The young idol slowly pulls back, leaving a trickle of drool between your two mouths. You see an incredibly sexy woman, her hair a mess, her breathing heavy and hot, her hands on your chest burning and her eyes devouring you like a hungry tigress.

"The redhead doesn't know what to say when she realises what she's done, her face turning scarlet as she rests her forehead on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault, are you tired?

She nods as you carry her to her room and tuck her into bed, one last kiss before sending your little princess off to dreamland.

"Good night, baby," you say to her as she seems to have gone far away.

The night was harder than expected, and after a light dinner you went to bed with your head still full of the events of the evening, a flurry of emotions running through your body and mind, and faster than you could have imagined, the morning light appeared through your window.

It's almost 7am and you're getting ready for a long day. As soon as you wake up, your body starts to show its age and it takes you a long time to get dressed and get out of your room and into the kitchen. You decide on a quick, simple breakfast of fried egg and rice, and with this morning's appointment, you'll be ready to go in no time, having filled up on vitamins for the day despite your fatigue. As you prepare this, you hear Yuna's bedroom door open and see your daughter come into the kitchen, still wearing her white T-shirt, but her beige trousers have been replaced by blue shorts.

"Morning dad," she says shyly.

"Hi honey, no schedule today?"

"Not this morning," she replies quickly, shaking her head.

Neither of you seem comfortable with the conversation and you do your best to avoid meeting her gaze and vice versa. You discreetly exchange glances and smiles, the redhead in front of you is beautiful and you find yourself ogling her.

You continue to prepare breakfast, making sure you have enough for your daughter. The only exchange you've had since is asking her if she wants a coffee, which she refuses. You see her hovering around the table as if she wants to talk, then she finally gets up and goes behind your back to the fridge.

Then you look back over your shoulder, feel Yuna's embrace around your waist as she buries her face in your back, feel the warmth of her breath again and put your hands on hers.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm sorry dad, my head has been on fire since yesterday, my body has been on fire since I saw you this morning, I just wanted to tell you that I love you very much," she answers as she places kisses on your spine.

You feel the tenderness of her lips on your skin as Yuna gently lifts your work shirt, you say nothing, letting your daughter express her feelings as Yuna's gentle attacks send electric shocks down your back.

"Please look at me," she says as she forces you to turn around, pulling you by your hips until your bottom is resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, face to face with your daughter, who is staring at you for the first time this morning.

Her eyes were trembling and she asked you in a soft, frightened voice: "Tell me you love me, Daddy", while she pressed her body against yours. You felt her soft breasts against your chest and she put her hands on the back of your neck. Your daughter brings her lips to yours, her eyes closed, waiting for you to confirm your feelings.

At this point your morality as a father is the only obstacle standing in the way of this relationship, your daughter may not realise it but it is an immoral relationship waiting to happen, your daughter is still looking for a way to fill the hole in her heart, the love of her members doesn't seem to be working for her and now she is relying on you, her father, to give her what she needs, it is a difficult choice but you are letting yourself be swallowed by the devil, your daughter's happiness is what matters.

You cupped her cheek with one hand before pressing your lips to hers as Yuna melted under the pressure of her emotions, you rediscovered the sensation of love and laid your daughter on the counter while maintaining the kiss.

Your daughter is now sitting on the worktop, the difference in height bringing her face level with yours, she grabs the back of your hair to pull you towards her, her legs wrapped around your hips, your lips still locked as your tongues meet again.

When the seal is finally broken, both your breaths are heavy and noisy, each under the hypnosis of its own pleasure, while your eyes are full of sparkles and plunge into each other's. Your princess's eyes shed small tears, which you hastily wipe away with your finger before giving her a long kiss on the forehead.

Daddy, my heart is going to explode,' she says as she takes your hand to her breast with her t-shirt, the feeling is even better than you had imagined, her small breasts are firm and pleasant to touch, as you gently knead her breasts, the young woman makes little moans that express the pleasure she is receiving.

"Yuna... do you like what Daddy is doing?"

She nods "I want to feel your hand on my skin," she replies as she takes both your hands and places them under her t-shirt, right on her breasts.

"Do you like my lemons daddy? squeeze them hard please" Yuna's sexy face and her words echo in your brain as your hands work on her juicy fruit.

The tension in the room rises and you place your mouth on her little lemon, which you have been kneading for a few minutes, you attack her nipple with your tongue while you suck, hoping to suck something, you alternate your hands, now covered with little red spots, your daughter moans with pleasure and prevents you from withdrawing.

"Daddy, suck on them, play with my little lemons that you love so much, they're yours".

All this excitement had made you hot and a knot had formed in your trousers. Your lips left her two Susson-marked mounds and now attacked her defenceless neck, licking it from bottom to top, following her carotid artery and planting long kisses under her jaw, making her tremble before she gently pushed you away.

"Dad, let me take care of you too, I've been feeling your lump on my leg for a while now".

Your daughter begins to unbuckle your belt, then your trousers, until she can finally see your underpants and cock. Then your daughter puts her hand on the front of your briefs to rub your cock, and you see her other hand go down her shorts, probably to check the state of her briefs.

"I'm soaking wet, keep playing with my tits and come and touch me down there while I take care of you".

Your daughter's hand reaches through your shorts and grabs your cock to stroke it gently, on your side you slide one of your hands up her thigh to her panties and rub her slit directly against her skin, she's wet and you can feel a small bush above her entrance, you wiggle your fingers up and down, taking the opportunity to go back and kiss your princess who moans at your actions.

Yuna's technique isn't the best, but who can blame her, the poor thing is fighting against her own body and the way she arched her back as you delicately knocked on her pussy door, freeing her lips from your kiss, the young idol expressed with volume what she was feeling,

♥Hmm....♥Ah....Papa, continue ♥Hmm, ah....♥

Your daughter's moans are like music to your ears and she quickly lets you know that her orgasm is coming as your fingers begin to penetrate her pussy from the inside, you feel little spasms running down her body and her pussy dripping with wetness, as you pull your fingers out you see the deception in her eyes before devouring her with your mouth, forcing her to let go of your cock in the process.

Your cock is extremely hard after Yuna's work but your pleasure is not your priority as your tongue slides up and down your daughter's slit, her juices are delicious and you suck them in to capture the taste of her naughty hole in your memory. Her grip on your thin hair is powerful and she blocks your head with her legs as you finally hear the release.

"Daddy, I'm going to come, it's happening, da..." before she can finish her own sentence, stopped by her pleasure, Yuna comes all over your now wet face and falls onto her back on the worktop.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" you ask her, a little worried as she suddenly falls backwards, the pressure of her legs freeing you and you see a close-up of your daughter lying on her back in front of you, her face red and wrung out, her hair falling in the air on the other side of the table, her breasts exposed and marked by your many hickeys and her pretty pink pussy that you've just finished devouring.

You grab both her hands and pull her towards you so that she's at your full height, then you take her in your arms as if you were comforting a small child.

"You're so hard daddy, you can do it if you want to," she says with a little hesitation and tired eyes, then you notice that your cock is at the same height as her pussy.

The choice seems obvious but at the same time you don't want to take it lightly and spoil the moment, the lack of time and place is not what you want to give your princess who is offering herself to you so you shake your head in refusal then plant a long kiss on her lips.

"Not now baby, another time," you reply as you start to pull away from her, only to feel her hand holding you back.

"At least let me make you feel better, I want to make you feel better too," she says as she grabs your cock and starts to jerk it like before.

"Do you like it when I rub your naughty cock? Why does a father turn on his daughter so much?" Yuna tries to be provocative to arouse you, but the tone is off and her lack of experience is glaring, you just smile under your daughter's true words.

Your orgasm builds as Yuna experiments with your cock, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible. You put your hands on her tits again and play with them, which doesn't seem to bother her, far from it.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?

"You know ... if you want my lemons to give you their juice, you'll have to give me yours first," she said, pointing to her pussy.

The image crosses your mind, the image of a father and daughter kissing the fruit of their forbidden love, a father giving his love to his daughter and a daughter giving birth to that love, your excitement and shame explode as your cock comes to paint the lower part of your daughter's body, her pussy and thighs marked by your essence.

I'm sorry, I'll clean you up,' you say, looking for something to wipe your cum-filled daughter with.

"It's OK, I'll do it myself,' she says as she scoops up the white liquid and brings it to her mouth.

Any young man would have been revitalised to see such a beautiful woman collecting cum on her body, but your cock is now in a less than glorious state and you pull up your trousers, taking care to get dressed.

"It's almost time darling, I have to go," you tell her as you haven't eaten or slept well, it's going to be a long day.

"Wait," she replies as she approaches you, still naked, "don't forget my goodbye kiss," as she presses her lips hard against yours, then whispers, "we'll continue tonight, I love you.

Your body and mind may be in bad shape, but knowing your princess will be there for you tonight fills your heart with a feeling you've been missing.

Later, in your car on the way to work, you get a notification that someone you're following has just started a live stream, obviously it's Yuna, she's the only one you follow, you pick up the stream on the way, but enough to hear your daughter say

My favourite fruit? mhhhhhhhhhh that's a good question, I'll go with lemon, it's a sweet fruit like me and TMI, but my dad loves lemons'.

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#itzy smut #itzy x reader #yuna smut #yuna x reader

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radiant-reid · 6 months ago

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Code-Switching

super small blurb but this idea came about because of mom on tiktok raising her kid in french and english.

There's nothing better after a long day of work than coming back home to your family. You couldn't want much more in your life than living in the perfect townhouse with your beautiful little girl and handsome husband.

Spencer stayed home today and you can hear jazz music in the living room while you slip off your shoes at the front door. Having a baby is a good look on him, but so is his modified work schedule that allows him to do all his paperwork and consults from home.

You hang your coat on the coat rack. It's not yet warm enough outside to go without one, but the sun is quickly coming.

"Bonjour." You greet Spencer with a kiss as you walk into the kitchen.

He's cooking something that smells amazing, as usual. Although many people wouldn't believe it, his culinary skills are impressive.

"Hi, beautiful." Spencer smiles just seeing you. "How was your day?"

"It was great." You tell him. "Being home is better though."

He nods. "We missed you. Can I get you a drink or do you want to go change?"

"I'm okay." You assure him. "Where's Eloise?"

"She was in the living room." Spencer frowns slightly, looking over the kitchen island counter for the little girl.

Her building blocks are still there but before either of you can start worrying, two hands wrap around your ankle, and a little giggle leaves her lips. "Mamá!"

"Hola, bebé." You cheer, reaching down to scoop her up to rest against your hip in a hug. "Cómo estás?"

"Bien." She replies with a nod.

Before you can press some more Spanish words out of her, Spencer speaks, directing her attention to the dinner cooking. "Excusez-moi. Voulez-vous du riz ou des pâtes avec votre poulet?" He asks her. You can tell his speech is slowed, allowing her to hear each syllable and understand it.

Eloise looks at you instead of her dad. "Quiero pasta, no arroz." Then she looks to Spencer. "S'il vous plaît."

You grin at Spencer, who's matching your excitement. He'd done the bulk of the reading about how to properly raise a baby to speak multiple languages. He speaks French to her, you in Spanish, and everyone else she is around in English. It isn't a perfect system but you've stuck to it. Her level of fluency and words in each language fluctuate, but it's not bad enough to warrant concern.

Until now, she has barely shown any code-switching. Occasionally, she'll throw in English pronouns to Spanish or French sentences, but until now, there haven't been any combinations between Spanish and French.

"Eres una chica inteligente." You tell her with a smile. Eloise can't tell exactly why you're so pleased with her, but she mirrors your expression.

"Très intelligent," Spencer adds, kissing her cheek. He follows her direction, reaching up to grab some pasta to cook for tonight's dinner.

"Smart." Eloise translates the word like it's second nature to her. You suppose it is. And it's a word that describes her to the fullest.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb

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aceyalonso · 5 months ago

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xi - She's my girl

chapter summary : sienna's parents invite you and oscar's family to have dinner and spend the night at their house, what happens when marietta does something that ruins her friendship with you?

alternative summary : fluff, angst, smut, the holy trinity in one

warnings : y/n is a history nerd, angst, swearing, fighting, drinking (mentioned and implied), slight miscommunication, marietta is a BITCH, smut, dom!oscar hair pulling, fingering, pussy slapping, mirror sex, edging, overstimulation, spanking, bondage (belt), squirting, face sitting, breeding kink lowkey, creampie, oral (both receiving), gagging, praise kink, degradation kink, unprotected sex (use a condom guys!)

word count : 23.3k

a/n : only 1 more chapter till this series ends :( | I AM SHOCKED WITH THE SMUT LIKE NO WAY I WROTE THIS BRO WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS SO FREAKY IM SCARING MYSELF

song : can't help falling in love - elvis presley

Wednesday, 9:10 AM

The next morning, both Y/n and Oscar's family gather at the breakfast table in the house. The room is filled with the scent of eggs, bacon, and coffee, and the atmosphere is a mix of cheerfulness and familiarity.

Y/n sits at the table, a plate of food in front of her, her hair slightly messy from sleep. Across her, sits Oscar, his plate also loaded with food as he engages in the conversation around him.

The family members are chatting amongst themselves, discussing plans for the day ahead. Y/n is chiming in occasionally, her eyes darting to Oscar every now and then, a private smile playing on her lips as she secretly remembers the events of the previous night.

Oscar, for his part, seems his usual charming self, engaging with the others in conversation while occasionally throwing a discreet peek in Y/n's direction.

As the family is chatting, Y/n's mom mentions that she ran into Sienna and Marietta's mom at the supermarket the day before. She explained that they had started talking and chatting, so she had gotten home a bit later than expected.

Y/n's mom then says, "Oh, and get this! While we were chatting, they invited us over for dinner. ALL of us. How nice of them, right?" Y/n's mom finishes, her voice filled with her usual cheerful energy as she relays the invitation.

Y/n looks up from her plate, a slice of bacon halfway to her mouth. She hesitates for a moment, a small frown creasing her forehead as she processes the information. Then she asks, her voice tinged with slight apprehension. "When is this dinner party happening?"

Her mother beams at Y/n's question, her cheerful disposition unperturbed. She takes a bite of toast before responding, "Oh, it's on Saturday. Your father will be back from the countryside on Friday, so it works out well." her voice filled with her usual enthusiasm

Y/n looks at her mom, a puzzled expression on her face. She sets the slice of bacon down on her plate and asks her mom a question. "Why is dad in the countryside anyway? Is there some sort of work he's doing there?"

Y/n's mom reaches for her coffee mug, taking a small sip before explaining. "Ah, the vineyard. Your Tia Lidia asked him to take care of the vineyard for a few days while she goes on a trip- I'm not quite sure if it's a business trip or not but either way, your father is there." Her voice is nonchalant, as if the the reason is obvious.

Y/n nods in understanding, her memory being jogged by her mother's words. She says, her voice a bit sheepish, "Right, the vineyard. I forgot about that. It's been a while since we've been there."

May, who had been listening in on the conversation, suddenly chimes in. She turns to Y/n and her mom, her voice a tad bit anxious. "What's the dress code? I only packed summer clothes..."

Y/n's mom chuckles at May's question, her laughter light and reassuring. She says, "Don't worry, casual is fine. We don't need to be too dressy. But if you don't have anything suitable, you and Y/n can always go shopping and find something nice to wear. How does that sound?" her voice warm and understanding

Y/n nods in agreement, appreciating her mother's suggestion. "That sounds good. A little shopping spree could be fun," she adds, her voice lighter now that the wardrobe issue is sorted out.

After breakfast, Y/n heads up to Oscar's room, the events of last night and the anticipation of seeing him again add a slight skip in her step.

Once she reaches his room, she goes inside and closes the door behind her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She waits patiently, excitement thrumming through her veins as she eagerly awaits his arrival.

Oscar soon walks into his room, expecting to find it empty, only to be jumpscare when he sees Y/n patiently waiting on his bed. He lets out a small involuntary gasp, surprised by her presence there. But the surprise quickly melts into a warm smile as he crosses the room to where she is sitting.

He approaches her, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment before he speaks. There's a mix of curiosity and affection in his voice as he questions her presence there.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here," he says, his voice affectionate and quiet. "What brings you to my room, all alone and patiently waiting for me, hm?"

Y/n looks up at him, a cheeky smile on her lips as she responds. "Just wanted to spend some alone time with you, is that a crime?" She pats the spot next to her, silently inviting him to join her on the bed. "Come here, sit with me."

Oscar chuckles, his eyes sparkling with affectionate mischief. He settles down beside her, his body pressed against hers as he responds to her cheeky comment.

"True, wanting to spend with me isn't a crime, but entering my room unannounced could be considered trespassing. I might have to call the police," he teases, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

Y/n grins as she pulls Oscar towards her, her movements quick and sure. They both fall back onto the bed, their bodies now lying side by side, separated only by a sheet of air. Y/n's heart is pounding, and her breath hitches as the closeness between them electrifies the room.

Y/n giggles as they lay there, the memories of her childhood room flooding back. She nuzzles closer to him, her voice light and playful as she points out, "By the way, you know what? This room used to be mine. So technically, I'm not really trespassing. I'm just revisiting my old territory."

Oscar laughs loudly at her statement, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he teases her, drawing from the iconic werewolf characters from the Twilight series.

"You sound like a werewolf from Twilight right now! Your old territory, huh? I can practically hear the howling and the transformation music in the background." He grins, enjoying the banter between them.

Y/n playfully smacks his arm, feigning mock offense at his comparison. Her voice is filled with exaggerated indignity as she responds. "Hey! Don't compare me to those sparkly vampires and werewolves! I'm a normal human, thank you very much. No transforming during the full moon for me."

They both laugh again, their shared humor creating a lighthearted atmosphere. Oscar then grins at her, his eyes sparkling with affection as he responds.

"Alright, alright, no more werewolf comments. My apologies. I guess you're just a normal human with a hint of possessive territory instincts, right?"

Y/n nods in playful agreement to Oscar's comment about her possessing territory instincts. She then moves a bit, adjusting her position to get more comfortable. She turns slightly, snuggling up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her leg lazily thrown over his.

Y/n suddenly remembers the mention of the shopping spree. She lifts her head from Oscar's shoulder, looking up at him.

"Hey, you heard my mom talking about the shopping trip, right? Do you think we can find anything decent to wear for the dinner party there?"

Oscar nods thoughtfully, his mind already working on possibilities. "Yeah, I heard her mention it. And yeah, I bet we can find something decent to wear there. The city has plenty of stores to explore. We'll definitely find something suitable."

Y/n winces slightly as she shifts her weight, her shoulder getting sore. She looks at Oscar apologetically. "Hey, can we switch positions again? My shoulder's starting to hurt from this angle."

Oscar immediately nods, his tone concerned as he notices her wincing. "Sure, of course. Let's change positions. You don't want to end up with a sore shoulder, right?" He moves carefully, shifting his body so that she can adjust her position, accommodating her needs.

Y/n smiles gratefully, appreciating his consideration. She readjusts herself, now lying on her back as her legs intertwined with his. She lets out a sigh of relief, the pain in her shoulder subsiding now that she's more comfortable.

Y/n suddenly switches gears, starting a totally random conversation. She glances at Oscar, her tone suddenly casual and lighthearted.

"Hey, speaking of shopping, do you ever get sick of wearing clothes? I mean, sometimes I just wish I could be naked all the time. It's so freeing, you know?"

Y/n suddenly switches gears, starting a totally random conversation. She glances at Oscar, her tone suddenly casual and lighthearted. "Hey, speaking of shopping, do you ever get sick of wearing clothes? I mean, sometimes I just wish I could be naked all the time. It's so freeing, you know?"

Oscar looks at her, a smirk playing on his lips, as he playfully responds. "Are you secretly a nudist or something? Wanting to be naked all the time sounds a bit… risqué, don't you think?"

Y/n laughs, shaking her head in denial. She replies, her voice light and carefree. "No, I'm not a nudist, I swear. I was just kidding. Though I do love the feeling of being in nothing but a silky robe, with the fabric gliding over my skin, feeling the coolness of the air against my body."

Oscar's fingers find their way into Y/n's hair, gently running through the silky strands as he responds, his voice low and slightly huskier than before. "A sight I'd love to see, you in only a silky robe, the fabric hugging your curves, and nothing between your body and the cool air? That sounds… intriguing, to say the least."

Y/n laughingly slaps his arm, feigning annoyance at his thoughts taking an amorous turn. Her voice is a mix of playful sternness and lightheartedness. "Hey, focus! We're having a philosophical moment here, in case you forgot. Don't ruin it with your dirty thoughts."

Oscar chuckles, defending himself, his voice filled with mock innocence. He points out. "Hey, you were the one who brought up the topic of nudity first. I was just trying to follow the conversation, you know."

Y/n rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face, before playfully replying. "Okay, fine, I'll take some responsibility for bringing up the subject. But you didn't have to immediately go there, you know. We could've had a purely intellectual conversation about clothing-optional lifestyles."

Y/n suddenly brings up a historical fact, her curiosity about the Romans sparking a new topic. "Hey, did you know that the Romans were surprisingly open about nudity? They even had public bathhouses where people would just casually walk around naked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But there were exceptions, though."

Y/n suddenly begins ranting about the Roman Empire, her passion for history shining through as she starts listing facts. "The Roman Empire was so ahead of its time, you know? They had an amazing road system and an advanced drainage system, and they practically invented the calendar we still use. Plus, their architecture was breathtaking. Buildings like the Colosseum and the Pantheon are still standing, over two thousand years later!"

Oscar listens intently to her passionate rant, occasionally interjecting with a question or making a comment to keep the conversation going. He's amazed by her fervor, her enthusiasm contagious as she speaks about the Romans. "So, they had all these incredible inventions and architecture, but what about their society? What was daily life like for an ordinary citizen?"

Y/n stops her tirade briefly to ponder Oscar's question, before launching into a thorough explanation. "Well, for your average Roman citizen, life would've been a mix of work, religion, and entertainment. Most people would have been involved in manual labor, agriculture, or trades. The Roman Empire was a huge society, with a complex social hierarchy. At the top were the rich and powerful, while the lower classes would've led more austere, hardworking lives."

As Y/n continues her passionate explanation about the Romans, she's suddenly interrupted by the unexpected kiss from Oscar. She looks at him, surprised for a moment, a smile slowly forming on her face as she realizes his gesture.

"Hey, I was talking, you know?" She says, a mixture of mock annoyance and amusement in her voice.

Instead of continuing her historical rants, Y/n now finds herself slightly distracted by the kiss. She can't help but be amused by Oscar's interruption, but she soon finds herself returning the kiss, losing herself in the moment.

Y/n breaks the kiss, her mind quickly snapping back into historical mode. Despite the distraction, her passion for the Roman Empire remains unbroken

"Right. Sorry, I got sidetracked for a moment. So, as I was saying, the Romans had this really interesting system of government…."

Oscar laughs loudly, his amusement growing by the second as he watches Y/n seamlessly switch from a passionate kiss back to historical facts. He grins, finding her enthusiasm endearing and endearing and adorable.

"You know, most people would get distracted and forget what they were saying after a kiss like that. But not you. You're back to talking about the Romans like nothing happened."

Y/n grins, defending her dedication to history, her voice filled with nostalgic joy.

"Of course, I didn't have a Percy Jackson-themed sweet 16 party for nothing. That event was the pinnacle of my teenage obsession with ancient civilizations. I mean, who needs a typical birthday party when you can have a full-blown historical tribute?"

Oscar's laughter continues, his face now buried in Y/n's chest as he playfully calls her a nerd. His voice is slightly muffled. "You're such a nerd, you know that? Most people would just get some typical birthday party for their sweet sixteen, with cake and balloons and stuff. But you had to go all out with a Percy Jackson theme. Only a true history enthusiast would do that."

Y/n grins, accepting the title of nerd with a hint of pride, and continuing her historical dialogue. "But yes, thank you, I am a nerd, as you've pointed out. Anyway, let's continue our discussion from where we left off. The Roman Empire, and its surprisingly casual approach to nudity…"

Thursday, 10:31 AM

Oscar, Y/n, and May are now browsing through the racks of dresses in the store. As they move through the aisles, Oscar has already collected a few shopping bags, holding onto them with practiced ease. He seems to be adapting to the shopping task quite well, his earlier reluctance replaced by mild curiosity.

Y/n turns to Oscar, holding a couple of dresses in her arms, and announces her plan to head to the changing room. "I'm going to the changing room to try on these dresses. Mind waiting here for a bit?" She says, a smile on her face.

Y/n looks at Oscar, a playful glimmer in her eye as she suggests something. "Do you want to come with me and wait outside the door? That way, you can give me your honest opinions on the dresses as I change."

Oscar looks at her for a moment, considering her suggestion, before nodding. He grins, clearly up for the task. "Sure, why not? I'll keep watch outside the door and offer my fashion critique as needed."

Y/n grins back, happy that he agreed to her request. She leads the way towards the changing rooms, finding an empty one. She turns back to Oscar before going inside. "Alright, give me a moment. I'll come out and show you the dresses one by one, okay?"

Y/n emerges from the changing room with the first dress on, a smile of excitement on her face. She twirls slightly for Oscar, giving him a full view of the red dress. It complements her figure well, hugging her curves in all the right places.

"Well? What do you think of this one?" she asks, her voice displaying a slight sense of discomfort.

Oscar looks at her, his gaze taking in the bright red dress. He scans her from head to toe, his gaze appreciative and slightly playful. He grins as she twirls, appreciating the way the dress hugs her curves. "Red looks good on you. It really emphasizes your figure. You look… stunning."

Y/n smiles at Oscar's complement, but then adds a note of skepticism as she assesses the comfort of the dress. "Thanks, I appreciate the compliment. But comfort-wise, it's not exactly the most comfortable dress. The fabric is a bit too stiff, and it doesn't really breathe well." she complains, fidgeting with the straps of the dress.

Y/n disappears back into the changing room, leaving Oscar waiting outside. After a few moments, she steps out in a different dress. This one is a flowing, light blue sundress, with spaghetti straps and a gathered bodice. It hugs her curves loosely, accentuating her figure in a more subtle and breezy manner.

She twirls once again, giving Oscar a glimpse of the second dress. The soft blue fabric floats around her, moving gracefully with her movements. She looks at him, gauging his reaction. "Here is the next one. What do you think of this one?"

Oscar's eyes widen slightly as he sees Y/n in the second dress. The light blue fabric of the sundress complements her figure nicely, and the loose, flowing style seems far more comfortable than the red dress. He smiles, his gaze appreciative, his voice a bit softer than before.

"That one looks great, really great. It's much more comfortable and breezy, isn't it? The color suits you, too. You look really lovely."

Y/n giggles slightly at his comment, pointing out a concern she has about the dress. She gestures towards the spaghetti straps, her tone lighthearted but slightly wary.

"Yeah, I really like the style of this one, but there's one issue. The straps are pretty thin. I mean, what if one of them breaks and a wardrobe malfunction happens? I don't want to flash a titty at the dinner party, you know?"

Oscar bursts into laughter, unable to contain himself as Y/n points out her concern about the spaghetti straps. His laughter is loud and uncontrollable, drawing the attention of a few people nearby.

Y/n shushes him, a mix of embarrassment and amusement on her face. "Shh, quiet. People are staring. You're going to get us kicked out."

Oscar tries to control his laughter, but his body still shakes from suppressed chuckles. He takes a moment to compose himself before responding."Sorry, sorry… just the imagined scenario of you accidentally flashing us in that dress was too much for me."

Y/n rolls her eyes at Oscar's comment, but can't help but find his reaction amusing. She retreats back into the changing room to change into the last dress she has. After a few moments, she emerges for the third time, this time dressed in a beautiful champagne white knee-length dress.

The A-line dress shows just a hint of cleavage to catch Oscar's attention, making her look elegant and sophisticated. The bodice is cinched at the waist, and the fabric falls gracefully to a slight flare at the knee. Y/n steps out, twirling slightly for Oscar, gauging his reaction to the final dress.

Oscar's eyes widen as he sees Y/n in the last dress. The champagne-white fabric shimmers slightly in the lighting, and the cinched waist accentuates her figure beautifully. The hint of cleavage draws his gaze, making it difficult for him to look away. "Damn, that dress looks amazing. It fits you perfectly. You look… gorgeous."

Y/n smiles, satisfied with Oscar's compliment, and looks down to admire the dress herself. Her tone is filled with genuine praise for the third dress. "Yeah, I really like this one. It's classy but not overly formal, and it's actually more comfortable than the other two. Plus, the champagne white color looks really nice on me, right?"

Oscar nods in agreement, his gaze slowly trailing over her figure, appreciating how the dress hugs her curves. He grins, his voice slightly thick with desire, a hint of huskiness in his tone. "Yeah, you look incredible. Seriously. You could wear this to any fancy event and turn heads for sure. I can't take my eyes off of you right now."

Y/n grins at Oscar's compliment, her heart fluttering just a bit before she disappears back into the changing room. After a few minutes, she emerges in her regular clothes once again. She steps out, carrying all three dresses in her arms.

Oscar, who has been waiting outside, looks at her as she re-emerges in her regular clothes, holding the dresses in her arms. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "So, have you made a decision? Which one are you picking?"

Y/n looks at the three dresses, her hand running over the fabric of each one. She contemplates for a moment before turning to Oscar, a smile on her face. "I think I'm going to go with the white dress. It's the most comfortable and it looks good, too. It'll be perfect for the dinner party."

Oscar's smirk transforms into a small smile as he hears her decision. He nods approvingly, his tone slightly teasing. "White dress it is, then. Good choice. You'll definitely turn heads at the dinner party. Just make sure no wardrobe malfunctions happen."

Y/n smiles at Oscar's teasing, rolling her eyes slightly. "Oh, don't worry, I'll make sure these straps hold my girls in place. No wardrobe malfunctions allowed."

Oscar grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Just make sure whatever you've got is strong enough. You don't want any accidents happening mid-conversation, or I might be the one to blame for distracting you and causing the malfunction."

Y/n laughs, shaking her head at him. "Oh, trust me, I have it under control. I don't need you causing any distractions. Besides, if any distractions happen, it'll be more your fault than mine."

They both laugh heartily as Y/n returns the dresses to their respective racks. They make their way towards the cashier, the energy between them light and playful after the eventful dress-shopping experience.

The dresses are put back, and Y/n turns to Oscar with a smile and a tease. "So, how about next time we go shopping, I bring you along for a change? I'll need a second opinion on what looks good on me, after all."

Oscar nods with a humorous smile, accepting the idea of accompanying Y/n on her future shopping trips. "Sure, that sounds good to me. I'm more than happy to give you my fashion advice."

Suddenly, May appears from behind them, her presence causing them to jump slightly in surprise. She grins, noticing their reaction to her sudden appearance, clearly enjoying the fact that she startled them. She chimes in, her usual cheerful tone filling the air."Hey guys! Done with the dress shopping?"

Y/n and Oscar both chuckle lightly, a bit taken aback by May's sudden appearance. Oscar replies with a smile, his heart rate slowly returning to normal."Yeah, we just finished. Y/n picked out a dress for the dinner party. You should see it, it's really nice."

May smiles wider, clearly interested in the details. "Oh, really? Can't wait to see it. Y/n, you always pick out the best outfits. I'm sure this one will look amazing too."

Y/n grins and nods, her excitement for the dress clear in her expression. "Thanks, May. I really like this one. It's comfortable and looks really nice, or at least Oscar seems to think so."

May pretends to gag, an exaggerated look of disgust on her face, clearly jesting them. "Oh, please. You guys don't need to rub your couple stuff in my face. Not all of us are lucky enough to find our perfect match like you two lovebirds."

They laugh at May's fake gagging, amused by her over-the-top reaction. Then, it's their turn to pay for the dress. Y/n steps up to the cashier, pulling out her wallet to pay.

Oscar swoops in as the transaction finishes, grabbing the bag with the dress before Y/n can even protest. He grins, holding the bag, knowing she's going to argue.

Y/n raises an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and mock annoyance on her face as Oscar snatches the bag from her grasp. "Hey, what are you doing? I can carry that, you know."

Oscar grins wider, "Oh, I know you can carry it. But I thought I'd be a gentleman and carry it for you. Consider it my little act of chivalry." his voice laced with playful stubbornness.

May eavesdrops on their playful argument, a mischievous smile on her face. Seeing an opportunity, she chimes in, holding out her heavy shopping bag with a tone of challenge. "Ooh, since Oscar's so keen on carrying things, how about you carry my shopping bag, too?"

Oscar turns to May, his expression turning to one of slightly annoyed realization. He responds with a hint of playfulness still present in his voice. "Hey, now. I never said I was a carrying service for everyone. I was talking about carrying Y/n's bag because, you know, I'm her boyfriend. Your shopping bag is where I draw the line, sorry."

May laughs, finding enjoyment in teasing them both. She holds up her shopping bag with feigned innocence, her grin widening. "Aww, come on, Osc. You won't deny a poor, defenseless girl the chance to have her bag carried? What if it's too heavy for my fragile wrists?"

Oscar rolls his eyes, once again realizing that May is enjoying pushing his buttons. He responds with a mixture of mock reluctance and amusement. "Defenseless, really? Do you think I buy that act? And your wrists are as strong as an ox, don't try to play the weak card on me."

Y/n chimes in, her tone filled with playful scolding as she joins in on the banter. "Oz, just carry her bag. It's not that big of a deal, and you're being stubborn about it. Come on, be a good sport."

May jumps in with an encouraging tone, fully agreeing with Y/n. "Yeah, Oscar. Be a good sport and carry my bag for me, won't you? It's not like it weighs a ton."

Oscar lets out an exaggerated sigh, knowing he's outnumbered by the two of them ganging up on him.

He groans dramatically before giving in, playing along."Fine, fine. I'll carry your bag, May. But only because Y/n and you are both ganging up on me. No more favors after this, got it?"

may.piastri • Just Now Garfunkel and Oates • You, Me and Steve

caption : i'm steve

Saturday, 5:49 PM

The car pulls up in front of the De Cresenzo household, parked along the gravelly driveway with a mix of other vehicles belonging to the De Cresenzo family. The evening is drawing near, the sky tinged with hues of orange and pink as the sun begins to set.

Y/n steps out of the car, adjusting her hair and smoothing out her dress. She takes a deep breath, a mix of excitement and nervousness in her chest. She turns to Oscar, who has gotten out of the car as well and gives him a brief, reassuring smile.

Y/n's mother, along with Oscar's mother, approaches the front door of the house, their arms linked together in an amiable manner. Y/n's mother reaches out and gently raps her knuckles against the heavy wooden door, creating a soft, rhythmic sound. The rest of the family members trail behind them, waiting for the door to open with a mix of anticipation and curiosity.

Sienna grins as she opens the door, her warm and pleasant demeanor greeting Y/n's mother and Oscar's mother. "Hey, come on in. Sorry my mom is running a bit late, she's still getting ready upstairs but should be down in a minute. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

As the family members trickle in, Oscar and Y/n enter last, with Oscar offering a simple "Hi" and Y/n embracing Sienna in a quick hug. There's a sense of ease and familiarity between the two friends, a hint of comfort amongst the slightly formal atmosphere.

Sienna grins at Y/n, her tone affectionate and welcoming as they part from their hug."Hey, Y/n! You look great in that dress. I'm really glad you could make it." She then glances over at Oscar, her smile widening. "And hi, Oscar. You look quite sharp yourself."

Oscar gives Sienna a friendly smile, his eyes drifting down to her outfit for a brief moment. "Thanks, I appreciate it. You look really nice yourself. This is quite the event." He turns to Y/n, holding her hand as he subtly pulls her closer to him.

Y/n, standing beside Oscar, feels the warmth of his hand, his subtle gesture drawing her closer to him. She looks up at him for a moment, their proximity creating a subtle sense of intimacy as he pulls her a fraction closer. Y/n's mother, like Oscar's mother, notices the gesture but doesn't comment on it, knowing that it's a natural, romantic act between a couple.

Sienna grins mischievously and suddenly grabs Y/n's hand, pulling her gently towards the living room. Oscar chuckles at the action, following closely behind the two girls. The sound of chatter and laughter emanating from the living room can be heard as they approach.

As they enter the living room, Y/n's eyes widen in pleasant surprise. She hadn't expected to see Arthur, Sienna and Marietta's cousin, and her old neighbor from back in Monaco. A mix of nostalgia and excitement wash over her. "Arthur! I didn't know you were here?"

Arthur glances up from his conversation with his older brother Charles and spots Y/n in the doorway. A smile spreads across his face, his familiar features lighting up with recognition. "Y/n, is that you? It's been ages! I didn't know you were coming tonight."

Arthur's smile widens, and he immediately envelops Y/n in a warm hug, expressing his own surprise at seeing her. As he releases Y/n, his gaze shifts to Oscar who is standing just behind her. A brief flicker of confusion passes over his expression before a friendly smile once again forms on his face, though it's tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Arthur's recognition of Oscar is clear, and the memories of their online and offline interactions come back to him. As the boys hug each other, the surprise on both their faces is evident. They part from the embrace, a mixture of friendly acknowledgment and curiosity in their gazes.

Oscar grins at Arthur, genuinely pleased to see him. He pats Arthur's back in a warm, familiar gesture. "Arthur, man, it's been a while! I didn't know you'd be here tonight too."

Arthur grins back at Oscar, his expression mirroring the sentiment. "Yeah, it has, hasn't it? I was just as surprised to see you here. Small world, isn't it?"

Sienna and Y/n watch the exchange between Oscar and Arthur with a slight sense of confusion, wondering about the history between the two boys. Sienna glances at Y/n curiously, silently questioning if she knew about this friendship.

Y/n looks at Sienna, noticing her look of confusion and curiosity. She gives a slight shrug, silently indicating to Sienna that she didn't know about the extent of Oscar's friendship with Arthur either. For the moment, she chooses to stay silent, letting the boys chat amongst themselves.

Sienna, intrigued by the conversation between the boys and curious about their connection, decides to speak up. "Hey, Arthur, how do you know Oscar? You guys seem to know each other really well."

Arthur turns towards Sienna, his friendly smile still present as he answers her question. "Oh, me and Oscar? We actually met online through a gaming forum. We bonded over our shared interests and eventually ended up meeting in real life. We've been friends ever since."

Sienna and Y/n both let out an "ohh" in unison, their question now answered. It seems that the connection between Oscar and Arthur stemmed from an unlikely source — online gaming.

Y/n glances over at Oscar, intrigued by this revelation. She hadn't known that he and Arthur had met through online gaming. Although surprised, she finds it endearing that a common interest has forged a friendship between the two.

Oscar chuckles lightly, echoing the sentiment that Arthur had earlier shared. He affirms the coincidence and adds, his tone playful, "What a small world. Who would've thought we'd end up all being here tonight."

Marietta and her mother make their way down the stairs, and a call from inside the dining room alerts Sienna, Arthur, Oscar, and Y/n that dinner is ready. The four of them instinctively turn towards the sound, ready to head into the dining room for the meal.

The dinner progresses with a pleasant atmosphere. Smiles, laughter, and conversations fill the table as everyone enjoys their meal and each other's company. Y/n's parents, Oscar's parents, Arthur's parents, and Sienna's parents all interact with one another, finding common ground and exchanging anecdotes. Y/n, Oscar, Sienna, Arthur, and Marietta all engage in lighthearted banter and catch up on each other's lives.

As the conversation ebbs and flows, Marietta leans in close and whispers in Oscar's ear, "You know, Oscar, you're looking particularly handsome tonight."

Oscar, visibly uncomfortable under Marietta's advances, tenses up slightly at her comment. He gives her an awkward laugh, his gaze darting around the table, hoping for someone to intervene or change the subject.

Arthur, sensing Oscar's discomfort, decides to interject and shift the focus away from Marietta's relentless advances.

His relief is almost palpable, grateful for the distraction Arthur has provided. He turns towards Arthur, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, me and Y/n? We met when they went to Melbourne, our mothers ran into each other by chance." Oscar replies, taking a sip of wine.

Arthur nods, intrigued by their story. He glances over at Y/n with a small smile, then back at Oscar. "Ah, Melbourne, huh? That's an interesting place. How long were you there for?" He says, turning the question to Y/n.

Y/n chimes in, continuing the story, their voice light and cheerful. "We were there for just a month, but it's funny how our families managed to cross paths near the end of my stay. Melbourne's a huge city, after all."

Arthur raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the coincidence. He chuckles lightly, commenting, "That's some pretty good luck to have your families run into each other right before you left. Must have made for a memorable end to the trip."

Y/n laughs softly, confirming Arthur's observation. "It sure did. It was a bit of a whirlwind, but definitely made for a memorable ending. And it was the start of me and May's friendship too."

The conversation around the dining table continues as the dinner carries on. People laugh, talk, and enjoy their food, although it's clear that Marietta is still keeping a keen eye on Oscar, the atmosphere a mix of enjoyment and subtle unease. Y/n and Oscar both try to engage in the conversation, avoiding Marietta's advances while occasionally exchanging furtive glances and smiles.

After the dinner concludes, the older adults continue chatting while the younger ones gather in the living room. The atmosphere is a bit stifling with Marietta’s constant presence but overall the group settles in as best they can.

Y/n and Oscar are sitting on the couch, close together with Oscar’s arm wrapped around Y/n in a protective and affectionate gesture. There is a slight tension in the air as Marietta keeps glancing towards them, clearly envious of their closeness.

Oscar sits next to Y/n on the couch, subtly watching her as she scrolls through her phone. His gaze occasionally flicks over to Marietta, who is sitting in an armchair across from them, her eyes fixed on Oscar in a mixture of jealousy and desire.

Y/n, blissfully unaware of Marietta's gazes, continues to scroll through her phone, tapping and swiping through different apps. Every now and then, she leans into Oscar slightly, feeling safe and comfortable in his presence.

Oscar, feeling a little uneasy with Marietta's intense stares, finds himself becoming more protective of Y/n, his arm instinctively pulling her a bit closer. He tries to refocus on Y/n, watching her phone screen and silently enjoying their proximity.

Y/n, feeling a subtle sense of unease, glances up from her phone screen and notices Marietta's relentless staring. She discreetly opens up her notes app, pretending to type something important, though her attention is more focused on Marietta's gaze towards Oscar and herself.

Oscar notices what Y/n is writing on her notes app and leans closer to her, gently kissing her temple. He whispers in her ear, his voice tinged with a hint of irritation, "Yeah, Marietta's been staring at us for a while now. She's not being exactly subtle about it."

Y/n notices Oscar's subtle irritation and responds by pouting slightly. She then exits the notes app and shifts her attention towards Gabriel, who is resting his head on her lap. She begins playing with his hair, running her fingers through it and stroking it gently. It seems like a subconscious act, a way to relax and ignore Marietta's persistent stares.

Arthur, spotting the opportunity to lighten the mood, suddenly picks up the 7-year-old boy from Y/n's lap. He swings him over his shoulder, the boy's giggles filling the air as he rides on Arthur's shoulders like a superhero. The unexpected display of playfulness breaks the tension and brings a genuine laugh from some of the group, including Y/n, while Marietta looks a bit annoyed at the distraction.

Y/n, seeing the innocent joy on Gabriel's face and Arthur's playful antics, couldn't resist capturing the moment on video. With a smile, she took out her phone and started filming, capturing the sight of Gabriel on top of Arthur's shoulders, both of them laughing and goofing around.

Y/n continued to film the two of them, her phone recording the sweet moment as Arthur continued to act like a superhero and Gabriel continued to laugh and cheer. Their innocent fun contrasted Marietta’s intense stares, creating a stark difference between the carefree spirit of childhood and the adult tension in the room.

Sienna suddenly interjects, her voice excited and light, "Hey Arthur, put Gabriel down and play just dance with me!"

Arthur laughs, setting the young boy down and turning to Sienna. "You're on!"

Sienna and Arthur both stand up, ready to engage in a dance battle. They both look at each other with determination and excitement, the others watching with curiosity and amusement.

Sienna selects a song on the game console, choosing a fast-paced tune. The music starts playing, filling the room with upbeat beats. Sienna and Arthur both begin to dance to the rhythm, their moves a mix of awkward and silly but filled with enthusiasm.

Oscar's laughter rings out loudly in the room, the sound infectious and genuine. His hand remains firmly on Y/n's waist as he watches Sienna and Arthur dance, clearly enjoying the show. Despite the lingering presence of Marietta's stares, Oscar's good mood seems unaffected by it.

Y/n feels Oscar's hand, playfully fiddling with the zipper of her dress. "Stop it," she warns.

"Why should I?" Oscar asks, his eyebrows raised out curiosity.

Y/n's cheeks flush slightly as she speaks, a mixture of embarrassment and flirtation in her voice. "Cause I'll end up flashing the entire room," she murmurs, glancing around to ensure no one else can hear them. "I don't have a bra under this dress.

Her reply shocks Oscar, her words cutting through the teasing banter and bringing him back to reality. His eyes widened slightly at her admission, and the realization of what could happen if he were to go any further suddenly dawned on him.

With a mixture of surprise and slight embarrassment, Oscar quickly removes his hand from her back and lets out a soft chuckle. "Oh… well, maybe I better keep my hands to myself then." He glances around the room, ensuring no one else overhears their conversation.

Y/n can't help but smirk at Oscar's reaction, clearly enjoying the effect her words had on him. They both know the risk of his hands exploring further, and the knowledge of her lack of undergarments adds an extra level of intimacy to the moment.

Despite the lighthearted banter between them, there is an undercurrent of tension, an unspoken understanding that they are on the edge of crossing a line in front of the others. But for now, the tease is enough, and they both continue to watch Sienna and Arthur's playful dance routine, each aware of the other's presence in a way that the rest of the room is blissfully oblivious to.

Oscar, sensing the need for a moment of respite, stands up from the couch. He gives Y/n a small smile before excusing himself, claiming that he needs to use the restroom. With a casual stride, he leaves the living room and heads down the hallway towards the bathroom.

With Oscar gone, Y/n decides to join in the fun with Arthur and Sienna. She stands up from the couch and moves over to them, eager to participate in the game.

Arthur and Sienna welcome Y/n to their just dance session, and soon the three of them are engrossed in the game, moving to the rhythm of the music, laughing, and trying to outdo each other with their dance moves.

With the three engaging in their game of Just Dance, Marietta manages to slip out of the living room, swiftly going the same way Oscar went.

As Oscar exits the bathroom, his hands still wet from the water, he shakes his hands, accidentally flicking droplets of water onto Marietta who had suddenly showed up.

"What the-" Marietta says, startled by the drops of water landing on her dress and face.

Marietta, regaining her composure, looks up at Oscar and says, "I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere private?" Her voice is firm and urgent, her eyes locking onto his with a purpose and intensity.

Oscar is taken aback by Marietta's sudden appearance and her insistence on a private conversation. He hesitates for a moment, wondering what she could possibly want to discuss with him, but eventually nods and gestures towards a closed door nearby that leads to a small study room.

They both enter the study room, Oscar closing the door behind them. The room is small and dark, only illuminated by soft lamplight. The sound of laughter and music from the living room can be heard faintly in the background, which contrasts with the sudden seriousness of the atmosphere in the study room.

Marietta, now alone with Oscar in the small study room, takes a deep breath and gathers her thoughts, her gaze fixed on his face.

"I wanted to talk to you because… because I need to get something off my chest," she begins, her voice softer now but still carrying a hint of determination.

Marietta swallows hard, steeling herself before continuing. "I've been watching you… with Y/n. I've seen how close you two are, how close she is with your family, and it's been… eating away at me."

She looks up at him, her eyes searching his face for a reaction, any sign that he may somehow reciprocate her feelings.

Marietta continues, her voice growing slightly strained as she pours out her feelings. "I've tried to ignore it, to push it down, but I can't anymore. The way you look at her, the way you touch her… it's like she's everything to you."

She pauses, tears welling up in her eyes. "Do you… do you feel anything for me, Oscar? Anything at all?"

Oscar listens to Marietta's confession with a mixture of surprise and sadness. He knows that he can't return her feelings, not when he's completely in love with Y/n. Still, he doesn't want to hurt her, and he chooses his words carefully, trying to be gentle yet firm in his rejection.

"Marietta," he begins, his voice filled with empathy, "I'm flattered that you have feelings for me, but… I can't reciprocate them. Y/n and I are together, and she means the world to me. I care about you as a friend, but that's all it can be."

Marietta's anger rises upon hearing Oscar's rejection, her frustration and jealousy bubbling to the surface.

"What do you mean 'that's all it can be'?" she shoots back, her voice laced with bitterness. "I can be so much more for you, Oscar. I can make you happier, I can make you feel loved in ways she never could."

The words hang heavy in the air between them, the truth in their implication hanging over the room. But no matter how much Marietta protests, no matter what she says, Oscar can't bring himself to see her in that way. His heart, his entire being, belongs to Y/n, and no amount of persuasion or pleading can change that.

Marietta, fueled by her anger and desperation, continues to plead with Oscar, her voice growing louder with each passing moment. "I can be whatever you want me to be, Oscar. I can be your partner, your confidant, your everything. You don't need her; you need me. Don't you see that?"

Just as Oscar opens his mouth to respond, the door to the study room suddenly swings open. Y/n stands in the doorway, surprise and confusion etched on her face as she sees the tense scene before her.

Y/n, lost in the music and enjoying herself with Arthur and Sienna, continues to dance with them, laughing and having a great time. The dance game goes on, the rhythm of the music filling the room and creating a fun and carefree atmosphere.

Arthur, Sienna, and Y/n continue to dance, the competitive spirit between them fueling their movements. They all laugh and cheer each other on as they try to out-perform one another, creating a lively and entertaining sight for anyone watching.

The Just Dance session continues, the three of them getting into the music and dancing with all their energy. The room is filled with laughter, with the occasional cry of "I did it better!" or a cheer from someone who nailed a particularly complicated move. It's a moment of pure fun and relaxation among friends.

Y/n suddenly pauses in her dance, her breath a little heavy from the intense moves. She looks at Sienna and asks, "Hey, I need to use the restroom. Where is it again?"

Sienna replies, "It's just down the hallway to your right."

Y/n nods, thankful for the directions. She excuses herself from the game, knowing that she'll rejoin them in a moment. She makes her way out of the living room, turning right and heading down the hallway towards the bathroom.

As Y/n heads down the hallway, her attention is abruptly drawn to a voice coming from the nearby study room. The sound of Marietta's voice is unmistakably loud and emotional, even through the closed door.

Y/n stops for a moment, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. What is Marietta doing in there? Who is she talking to? Y/n hesitates for a brief moment before her curiosity gets the better of her, and she quietly moves closer to the study room door, trying to listen in on the conversation inside.

She presses her ear to the door, her heart racing a little with curiosity and a hint of worry. The muffled voices and exchange of words carry faintly from the other side, but it's too indistinct to make out anything specific.

Y/n's heart sinks as she opens the door and finds the most unexpected scene unfolding before her eyes. Marietta, pressed up against Oscar, is kissing him on the lips, her hands gripping his shirt fervently. Oscar caught off guard, is frozen in surprise.

As Y/n turns to run out of the room, her heart is pounding in her chest. She doesn't look back, her mind still trying to process what she's just seen. Just as she leaves, Oscar finally pulls away from Marietta, pushing her off him as the shock of the situation sets in.

Oscar, completely stunned and furious, turns on Marietta once Y/n has left the room. He swears at her, his voice booming with anger. "What the fuck were you thinking, Marietta?! That was absolutely out of line!"

He doesn't wait for a response, his thoughts solely on Y/n and the hurt he knows she must be feeling. Without another word, he dashes out of the room, determined to find her.

In his panic, Oscar urgently turns to Arthur who is still playing Just Dance. "Arthur! Where did Y/n go?!" He desperately looks around for any sign of her, his voice urgent.

Arthur, startled by Oscar's sudden outburst, pauses their game and looks around. "I'm not sure, man. She said she was going to the bathroom, but that was a few minutes ago. Why?"

Despite his panic, Oscar's observant eye catches the sight of something through all the chaos. Glancing towards the door that leads to the garden outside, he sees it left slightly ajar.

"Hey, the door." he points out to Arthur without finishing his sentence. Understanding immediately, Oscar heads towards the door, knowing that Y/n might have gone outside.

Y/n hurries outside, her vision blurred by the tears streaming down her face. She's on the verge of breaking down, the image of Marietta kissing Oscar still fresh in her mind. She feels betrayed and hurt, the weight of the situation bearing down on her as she seeks solace in the solitude of the outdoors.

The cool night air stings her flushed cheeks as she move aimlessly, the dim lamp posts casting long shadows across the garden paths.

Her steps falter as she hears Oscar's voice calling out to her from behind. The sound of his voice only serves to deepen the ache in her heart, a mix of anger and sadness welling inside her. Despite her urge to keep walking, she finds herself pausing, torn between the need to confront him and the desire to just keep running away.

Y/n steps into the small hedge maze, she moves with swift determination. Growing up alongside Sienna and Marietta, she had spent many hours playing in this maze, and it seemed that the memory of it was ingrained in her mind. She navigates through the dark twists and turns, knowing instinctively which path to take to reach the center.

All the while, Oscar follows close behind her, his footsteps audible in the midst of Y/n's sniffles and the quietness of the night. The maze seems isolating and yet eerily intimate, as if nature itself is enclosing them within it's emerald green walls.

The labyrintine path of the hedge maze seems to trap the sounds of their steps, creating and almost eerie effect as they move towards the center. Every few seconds, Y/n can hear Oscar's footsteps behind her, reminding her that he is still there, and they're getting closer to the heart of the maze, which feels more like a trap than a place of refuge.

Y/n increases her pace, desperately trying to lose Oscar in the maze. As her heart races, her tears fall even faster, creating a steady stream down her face. At last, she reaches the heart of the maze, a decent sized, circular clearing where two lone benches and limestone statue reside beneath the shadows of the tall hedges.

As Y/n regains her breath and looks around the clearing, her gaze falls upon the statue in the center. It is a sight that holds beauty and pain - for her at least. The statue depicts Marietta and Sienna's parents dancing on their wedding night, a frozen moment of joy and celebration carved out in stone.

The sight only serves to make Y/n's heartache deepen, the knowledge that the very garden she's standing in is Marietta's only adds another layer of complexity to her emotions.

Y/n curls into a tight ball on the bench, her knees pressed against her chest. The tears fall relentlessly, staining her face and pooling against the material of her dress, leaving dark patches on the otherwise pristine fabric. In this moment, she doesn't care about her appearance or the state of her clothes. It all seems trivial compared to the pain she's feeling.

Her soft sobs echo through the otherwise silent garden, creating a somber atmosphere. The shadows around her seem to wrap around her, almost as if they are trying to comfort her, but their efforts are in vain. The grief and hurt she feels are far too deep to be comforted by mere shadows of the night.

For the next several minutes, Y/n's emotional pain is her reality. Her tears flow freely, and her body shudders with each sob. There's no one else around to bear witness to her pain, only the silent, unfeeling stone of the statue and the endless night that seems to press down on her from all sides.

Y/n's tearful sobs are abruptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of Oscar, materializing from behind the statue like a ghost in the night. She hadn't expected him to reach the center from the opposite entrance, and her eyes widen slightly at his arrival.

Oscar approaches Y/n, his steps cautios and unsure. He's keenly aware of the turmoil he's caused, the hurt he's inflicted, and the sight of her tear-stained face only increases his guilt. He takes a seat next to her on the bench, his movements tentative and careful.

He hesitates as he stands next to the bench, his eyes on Y/n. He waits a beat before he musters up the courage to ask, his voice low and pleading, "Can I sit down too?"

Y/n doesn't respond immediately, her tear-streaked eyes remain fixed on the limestone statue. After a few moments, she gives a slight nod, indicating that he can sit beside her.

Oscar takes her silent gesture as permission, and slowly lowers himself onto the bench next to her. He leaves a small gap between them, respecting her need for space but still wanting to be close enough to talk to her.

Y/n finally speaks up, her voice slightly shaky and raw from crying. "That statue... It's Sienna's mom and dad on their wedding night."

She glances at the statue, her expressio unreadable. The sight that once seemed beautiful now only adds to the pain and hurt she's feeling.

Her words hang in the air between them, the statue's frozen dance of joy and celebration serving as a stark contrast to the despair and heartbreak that now pervades the center of the maze.

Y/n continues, her words laced with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. "Tio Marcello, Sienna and Mariettas dad, he had this statue commissioned a little while after their wedding. He said it was a token of love and happiness, to forever remember that night..."

Her voice quivers a bit as she continues, the story taking on a ore poignant tone. "Especially because of what happened after... Tio Marcello and Tia Inez- Marietta's mom, got a divorce. Tio found out she was cheating on him with another man. It was a messy divorce, especially with Marietta still a toddler at that time."

Y/n's voice gains a hint of a smile as she continues. "He eventually found Tia Genevieve, and through her, he discovered what true love really means. That's why he had this statue made, to symbolize the love that endures, despite the heartache of the past."

She looks at the statue once more, her eyes tracing the frozen dance of the couple, eternalized in stone. "It's supposed to be inspirational, I guess... a reminder that love can prevail, even in the face of betrayal and pain.

"It's ironic... that it's here, in Marietta's garden," she says, with a bitter edge to her voice. The symbolism of the statue, against the backdrop of Marietta's actions is cruel, barbaric almost.

Y/n's words hang heavy in the air, the irony of the statues location not on either of them. The reminder of love and resilience, standing in the shadow of a betrayal and heartache, feels almost cruel, adding yet another layer of the complex emotions that fills the silence between them.

Oscar, who had been quietly listening, finally breaks the silence. His voice is soft and measured as he looks at Y/n, his eyes holding a mix of regret and determination.

"Y/n," he says, his voice filled with earnest sincerity. "I need to explain. I need to... I know I screwed up, and I need to talk to you. Can you listen to me, please?"

Y/n's gaze slowly turns towards him, her eyes still red and puffy from crying. Her expression is guarded, the pain in her eyes still evident. But she nods, a small gesture that indicates she's willing to hear himout.

Oscar exhales, relief flooding through him at her gesture. He hesitates for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he speaks. The silence between them is tense, the weight of the unspoken words between them hanging in the air like a guillotine.

Finally, Oscar begins, his voice is low and serious. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm sorry for what you saw, for what you must be feeling right now. I can't even imagine..."

Oscar looks at Y/n, his expression is earnest and open. "Y/n, I need you to know that I didn't want that kiss. Marietta kissed me, not the other way around. I didn't want it, I rejected her. I... I love you, Y/n. You have to believe me."

His words are filled with earnestness and sincerity, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. He looks into her eyes, waiting for her to respond, to see if she believes him, to know he isn't lying.

The silence between them is deafening. Oscar's heart beats in his chest, his eyes pleading for Y/n to believe him. The only sound is the distant murmur of the party still going on inside, a stark contract to the quiet, intimate bubble they've created for themselves in the garden.

"Please," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "Please, believe me. I would never... I could never do that you. I love you, Y/n."

Oscar's eyes begin to glisten with tears as he speaks, his voice filled with a raw, emotional intensity. "I love you, Y/n. I've never felt this way about anyone before. My heart, my soul, everything I am is yours. I would never do anything to hurt you, I swear. You have to believe me. Please, I need you to believe me."

His tears fall now, unrestrained, as he pours his heart out to her. He reaches out a trembling hand, wanting to touch her, to hold her, but he hesitates, unsure if she'll allow it.

Y/n rises from the bench, the sudden movement causing Oscar to withdraw his extended hand. He looks at her, his eyes pleading, hoping for some sign, any sign, that she believes him

Y/n stands in front of Oscar, her eyes meeting his. The air is filled with tension, the emotional weight of the moment almost tangible. She doesn't speak, simply looks at him, her expression hard to read.

Oscar's heart pounds in his chest, his breath coming is shallow gasps. He sits there, his eyes locked on hers, to say something, anything. The silence is deafening, the seconds passing by like hours.

He hesitantly reaches out hs hand, his hands hovering a mere inch from her arm, not quite touching, but the intention clear. He wants to hold her, to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

Y/n suddenly moves towards Oscar, her body colliding with his own and pulling him into a tight hug. The unexpected embrace catches him off guard, but he responds immediately, wrapping his arms around her as she falls to her knees.

They sink to the ground, their bodies pressed so close together it's impossible to tell where one ends, and where the other begins. He holds her tightly, his chin resting against her shoulder, feeling the tears of relief dampen his shirt.

"I love you," he whispers, the words half-muffled by her hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. Please forgive me. I love you so much."

He pulls her even closer, clutching her as if she's the last solid thing in a world that's suddenly tilted on its axis. The sounds of the party from inside the house fade to the background, their world now reduced to this quiet, hidden corner of the garden.

For a moment, they stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them completely forgotten. The only sound is their erratic breaths, the only touch their bodies pressed so closely together that it feels like one being.

As they hold each other, he lets out a soft, shuddering breath, the relief so profound it almost hurts. Her words break through the stillness of the night, her voice quiet but firm. "Even if it was on purpose... even if you wanted it... I still would've forgiven you."

Y/n's words, whispered into his ear, hit him like a truck. Even if it had been on purpose, even if he had wanted it, she would still forgive him? The idea is both humbling and incredibly saddening.

The words hang in the air, a profound declaration of love and trust. She speaks as if there's no doubt in her mind that she would forgive him, no matter the circumstances. The implication is clear - her love for him is deep, so boundless, that she'd overlook even the most grievous of transgressions.

A soft, shaky chuckle escapes Oscar as Y/n speaks. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and awe. "Don't say that baby," he says, his voice still slightly hoarse. "Please, do not say that. You're making me worry for your self-respect if you say things like that.

Y/n melts into Oscar's touch as his fingers gently brush away her tears. She looks up at him, her eyes still damp with tears but a soft smile on her lips. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice so soft it's almost a sigh.

The apology is heartfelt, tinged with a note of regret. It's not just for the tears or the emotional upheaval of the evening, but for the pain, the doubt, and the fear that she'd felt in her heart, even if her head told her all along that Oscar's loyalty was never in question.

Oscar shakes his head, his eyes soft as he gazes down at her. "No, don't apologize," he says, his voice low and sincere. "I'm the one who needs to apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for."

He cups her face gently with both hands, forcing her to look up at him, to see the earnestness in his eyes. "You're perfect, Y/n," he says, his voice filled with a desperate sort of tenderness. "You have every right to be hurt, to feel betrayed, to doubt…"

He continues, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on her cheeks, his touch so infinitely tender it almost hurts. "I would've done the exact same if the roles were reversed. I would be heartbroken, too, if I thought for even a second that you were unfaithful to me."

"But I need you to know," he says softly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That it will never happen. I will never, ever betray you. I love you more than anything in this world. You are everything to me."

As Y/n nods, agreeing with his words, her tears still fresh on her cheeks, she leans in and kisses him. The kiss is salty, the taste of her tears mixing with the sweetness of her lips, creating an oddly beautiful combination. Oscar responds immediately, eagerly, his hands still cupping her face, his lips pressing against hers with a desperate kind of tenderness.

The kiss deepens, their bodies pressing even closer together, the heat of their bodies and the cold of the night creating a strange but delightful contrast. For a moment, all the stress, all the fear, all the doubt vanishes, leaving only this — this moment of absolute, unadulterated love and connection.

When they finally break apart, they're both a little breathless, a little dazed, a lot in love. The party continues to thump and pulse inside the house, but out here, in this small bubble of intimacy they've created, it's as if the rest of the world has faded completely away.

As the sound of the thunder echoes around them, Y/n glances up at the darkening skies and turns to Oscar. "We should probably get out of the maze," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of trepidation. "It's going to start pouring any minute now."

Oscar nods in agreement, reluctantly breaking their embrace, but still holding her hand tightly in his. They stand up, the reality of the storm outside forcing them back into the present. The maze, which had earlier seemed like a magical, secluded oasis, now feels almost menacing as the storm rolls in.

The rain begins to fall suddenly, fat droplets splattering against the paved path as the storm unleashed its fury upon the night. Y/n grabs Oscar's hand tightly, the cold droplets seeping into their skin as they begin a run for the greenhouse nearby, hoping to find shelter from the storm.

The greenhouse materializes through the heavy rain as they run, its glass walls barely visible in the pitch-black night. They reach the structure moments later, their breathing ragged and chests heaving as they step underneath the shelter of the greenhouse roof.

The greenhouse, once a warm, glass sanctuary, is now dimly lit by the artificial glow of the lights. Y/n finds the light switch and flips it on, casting the inside of the lighthouse in a faint yellow light that reflects off the glass panes. She then closes the door behind them, effectively sealing them inside as the storm rages on outside.

Y/n and Oscar stand for a moment just inside the greenhouse, taking in the sight of each other, the adrenaline from the run mixing with the leftover emotion from their previous conversation. They're both breathing heavily, their clothes slightly damp from the rain, their hearts still racing with the intensity of the recent events.

The tension from the moment earlier and the wild sprint from the maze give way to uncontrollable laughter as they stand there in the greenhouse. The laughter mixes with the sound of the rain against the glass, creating a strangely beautiful and almost surreal atmosphere.

They're both bent over slightly, clutching their stomachs as giggles and laughter escape them. They're not sure if it's the absurdity of the situation they've found themselves in, the relief from the earlier emotional upheaval, or just the sheer ridiculousness of running through a storm only to end up in a greenhouse.

Y/n, still giggling a bit, spots a chair near a metal outdoor table and sits down, the laughter now slowly subsiding to soft chuckles. She leans back in the chair, the hard lines of the metal contrasting with the soft lines of her body. Her eyes are still sparkling with humor and something else - maybe affection, maybe relief - as she looks up at Oscar.

Oscar walks over, his steps loose and relaxed after the sudden burst of laughter. He moves to the side of the table, hoisting himself up to sit on its surface, facing Y/n. There's a lazy, easy smile on his face, a stark contrast to the tension from earlier.

The space around them feels almost intimate in the dimly lit greenhouse, the sound of the rain outside creating a sort of soft, rhythmic counterpoint to the beating of their hearts. They sit in silence for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say, but both just taking in each other's presence.

Oscar reaches out towards her, brushing some wayward strands of hair away from her forehead. The gesture is tender, and gentle, as he pushes the damp locks away from her face. The pads of his fingers linger against her skin, the touch so familiar and loving, yet still sparking a small spark of electricity.

In the quiet, intimate atmosphere of the greenhouse, the simple act of tidying her hair suddenly feels like the most intimate thing. His fingers trace the line of her jaw, as if committing its curve to memory.

His gaze travels over her face, taking in every feature, every line, every tiny detail. In the faint light, he sees the traces of her tears, but also the flush of her cheeks, the glimmer in her eyes. She looks so beautiful, so vulnerable, and so completely his in this moment.

Oscar leans in, his eyes still locked on hers. The kiss is soft, gentle, filled with all the love and relief he feels in that moment. His hand, still close to her face, moves downwards, cupping her chin, holding her face in place so he can kiss her thoroughly, desperately.

It's as if all the fear, all the doubt, all the uncertainty from earlier has vanished. Now, there's only this – the taste of her lips, the heat of her skin, the sound of her breath mixing with his. The greenhouse becomes a cocoon, sealing them off from the storm outside, and the rest of the world.

Their kiss breaks, leaving them both a little breathless once more. A soft, giddy laugh escapes Y/n, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of joy, affection, and residual laughter. She looks like a teenager who's just had her first kiss, with flushed cheeks and a wide, unashamed smile on her lips.

Oscar watches her, the sight of her joy and innocence filling him with a fond, almost protective kind of warmth. There's a softness in his eyes as he looks at her, his own lips curving into a smile at her reaction.

"You look like a high schooler who's just had her first kiss," he teases, the amusement clear in his voice even as his look remains incredibly fond.

Y/n, seemingly oblivious to the slight edge of huskiness in his voice, grins wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Do I?" she asks, her tone faux-innocent, her cheeks still a little pink.

Y/n's gaze drifts towards the corner of the greenhouse, catching sight of an old-fashioned record player sitting there. Her eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, the old piece of technology somewhat out of place in the modern setting of the greenhouse.

Her eyes linger on it for a moment, the sudden appearance of the record player piquing her curiosity. She looks back at Oscar, a question forming on her lips. "Is that thing still working?" she asks, nodding in the direction of the record player.

Oscar follows her gaze to the record player, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Only one way to find out," he replies, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

He hops down from the table, his footsteps light and almost silent on the tiled floor of the greenhouse. He crosses over to the record player, crouching down to examine it. He gives it a light tap, as if to see if it'll magically come to life.

Y/n lets out a soft, slightly tipsy giggle as she watches Oscar tinker with the record player. The effect of the alcohol in her system is still quite apparent, adding a giggly, almost carefree vibe to her behavior.

She stands up, her steps a bit less steady than usual from the earlier alcohol consumption. She moves over to where Oscar is crouched beside the record player, joining him in his inspection of the old piece of machinery.

Y/n, a little giggly but very much curious, bends down beside Oscar and rummages through the collection of records next to the player. After a moment, she pulls out a worn vinyl record, its cover slightly faded but still clearly displaying the title "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley.

She holds it up, her eyes dancing with excitement as she shows it to Oscar. "Look what I found," she says, her voice tinged with an almost childlike glee.

The record is old, and clearly well-loved, and it gives off a certain nostalgia that's fitting for the greenhouse setting. The song choice is ironic, given the events of the evening, but in a way, it feels almost prophetic.

The lyrics of the song, a classic declaration of undying love, seem to echo the emotions they've been going through the entire night. It's as if the universe is playing a game, leaving hints and signs in the most unexpected places.

The song, in its simplicity and sincerity, feels like a perfect soundtrack for the night. The rain outside is still falling, the room is still dim, and yet, the mood inside the greenhouse is almost strangely romantic.

Oscar takes in the sight of the record and the song title, a slow smile spreading across his face. He glances at Y/n, the irony of the song choice not lost on him. "Elvis, huh?" he asks, his voice laced with humor and affection.

Y/n grins, the smile on her face wide and bright. "Can't help falling in love, right?" she quips, her words a little slurred but filled with a joyous, almost drunken honesty.

Oscar snorts out a laugh, the sound a mixture of amusement and fondness. "Very fitting," he replies, taking the record from her and looking it over.

Oscar takes the record from Y/n and gently places it onto the player. For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of the rain and the soft, almost expectant silence inside the greenhouse. Then, a soft crackling sound fills the air, the old record player coming to life after a beat.

A second later, the soft, melodic tones of "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley start to fill the greenhouse.

Wise men say, only fools rush in But I can't help falling with you.

Oscar, with a soft, almost tender smile on his face, turns to Y/n and holds out a hand to her. "Care to dance?" he asks, his voice smooth and silky. The soft, romantic tones of the song in the background seem like the perfect invitation.

Y/n, her eyes still sparkling with a tipsy sort of glee, grins from ear to ear. She places her hand in his, her fingers fitting perfectly with his. "I thought you'd never ask," she teases, her words slurring just a bit but filled with unabashed anticipation.

Take my hand, take my whole life too, For I can't help falling in love with you.

Oscar pulls her closer, his other hand coming around to rest on the fabric of her back. She molds herself against him, their bodies pressing against each other rhythmically as they start to sway to the music.

Like a river flows, surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be

The atmosphere inside the greenhouse is now almost dreamlike, the dim light, the soft rain, the old record player, and the soft music creating a scene like out of a movie. They dance together, their movements slow, intimate, their bodies responding to each other as if in a well-rehearsed routine.

There's no fancy footwork, no complicated steps. They're just swaying back and forth, the music guiding their movements. Yet, in this simple act, there's a sort of raw, vulnerable intimacy. They're not just dancing – they're holding each other, feeling each other, silently saying all the things they can't quite voice in that moment.

The lyrics of the song float around them, wrapping them in a cocoon of tender sentimentality. The words "For I can't help falling in love with you" seem to echo in the air as they spin around in slow, languorous movements.

They're not exactly graceful, occasionally tripping over each other's feet. But they laugh it off, the clumsiness of the moment adding to the charm. The song reaches its crescendo, the chorus coming back for another round. Oscar pulls her just a bit closer, his arms holding her tighter as they dance beneath the dim light.

The world outside could've fallen apart, and they wouldn't have noticed. Right now, this moment, this dance, is the only thing that matters. The rain continues to fall outside, the greenhouse protecting them from the storm, and inside, they're dancing like there's no tomorrow, their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync.

The song reaches its end, the final notes of "Can't Help Falling in Love" trailing off softly. The record player clicks, indicating the end of the song, and the greenhouse is silent again, save for the sound of the rain outside and their soft breaths, a little heavier from the intensity of the dance.

They stand there, their arms still wrapped around each other, not quite ready to let go just yet. They're both a little breathless from the dance, their bodies close, their heartbeats still a little faster than usual. Y/n remains pressed against him, her cheek against his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt warm and comforting.

Oscar gently releases Y/n from his arms, reluctantly letting go of the intimacy of the moment. He carefully takes the vinyl record and places it back in its place among the others. As he does so, he glances back at Y/n, the sight of her still a little flush and out of breath from the dance stirring something protective and affectionate inside him.

The record is placed back, and the vinyl collection is neatly arranged once more. Oscar turns back to Y/n, his eyes sweeping over her, taking in the sight of her tousled hair and slightly disheveled state. There's a soft, almost tender smile on his lips as he steps closer to her, his hands itching to reach out and touch her again.

The space between them feels charged now, the recent dance leaving them both feeling a bit raw and vulnerable. Oscar takes another step closer, his eyes locked on her face, drinking in the details. The dim light of the greenhouse casts shadows across her face, making her look both vulnerable and incredibly beautiful at the same time.

Y/n looks out at the rain, which is still falling heavily, and then back at Oscar. "What should we do now?" she asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "It's still raining too hard to go back."

Oscar follows her gaze out the greenhouse door, peering out into the rain-soaked night. The rain is still falling with a steady intensity, the sound of it creating a soothing yet continuous white noise. He turns his attention back to her, his expression thoughtful for a moment before a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Looks like we're stuck here a bit longer," he notes, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes remain on her, taking in the sight of her, as he seems to contemplate something.

There's a certain sort of tension in the air now, the knowledge that they're trapped there together for a while longer giving the situation a new quality. The rain continues its monotonous pitter-patter against the glass panes, creating a sort of isolating atmosphere that feels almost intimate.

Oscar watches Y/n, the silence between them almost a tangible thing. The rain outside and the enclosed space of the greenhouse make the atmosphere feel secluded, almost surreal, as if they're the only two people in the world right now.

The sounds of the rain and the relative dimness of the light create a cocoon-like feeling, cutting them off from the rest of the world. Oscar's eyes remain fixed on Y/n, studying her almost, his gaze occasionally flickering down to her lips before returning to her eyes.

The moment stretches on, the silence both comforting and slightly charged. Oscar looks like he has something to say, but he remains silent, seemingly wrestling with some sort of internal debate. Y/n feels his gaze on her, his eyes lingering on her face, her lips, and occasionally on her hair.

After a beat, Oscar finally breaks the silence, his voice dropping to a low, almost gravelly tone. "You know, this rain is quite something," he mused, his words a barely-veiled attempt to keep the conversation going, to fill the silence that was settling between them.

Y/n grins, a breathless but amused laugh escaping her. "You're trying to make small talk, aren't you?" she responds, the playfulness in her tone clearly showing that she's not fooled by his attempt.

Oscar feigns innocence, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Me, trying to make small talk? Never," he replies, his tone deliberately casual, but his eyes betraying his amusement.

Y/n laughs again, her eyes sparkling with a mix of humor and affection. She knows he's bullshitting, and he knows she knows. But it's part of their bantering dynamic, and it's almost comforting in its familiarity.

The rain continues to fall outside, the sound of it providing a sort of background white noise to their conversation. Oscar regards her with a half-smirk of playful resignation, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something a little darker, more intense.

They move over to the chairs, their movements somewhat less than graceful due to the alcohol in their systems. They both sink into the seats, a mutual sigh escaping them as they get comfortable. The rain continues to fall outside, the pitter-patter of the water against the glass adding a cozy, relaxing sort of atmosphere inside the greenhouse.

Y/n, still a bit tipsy but feeling relaxed and comfortable, looks around the greenhouse, admiring the lush plants and cozy set-up. "I've always wanted to have a greenhouse," she confesses, her tone a mix of wistfulness and satisfaction. "I love being surrounded by plants and nature. It's so calming."

Y/n's expression softens, her gaze drifting around the greenhouse as she thinks about her past. "This greenhouse, and the hedge maze outside, are honestly where some of the happiest moments in my life have taken place," she says, her voice slightly hushed, as if she's lost in memories.

Y/n snorts out a laugh, a fond smile on her face as she recalls a memory from her childhood. "You know, this is gonna sound silly, but that hedge maze outside is where Sienna asked me to be her best friend when we were five years old," she says, amusement and nostalgia mixing in her tone.

"We were just a couple of little kids, running around in that maze, giggling and chasing each other. She suddenly stopped, turned to me, and very seriously said 'I want you to be my best friend.' I remember thinking she said it with such gravitas, as if it was the most important thing in the world," she adds, her eyes going a little soft as she reminisces.

Y/n's expression turns a bit sadder now, but there's also a note of sweetness in her eyes as she recalls another memory. "And this greenhouse was where my dad danced with me the night before my 18th birthday," she says, her tone tinged with a mix of nostalgia and melancholy. "He said it was because he wanted to have some time alone with his little girl before she turned into a lady."

She pauses, a soft smile on her face. "We danced to some old, cheesy love songs, and he jokingly called me his princess. I remember feeling so grown up, special… and a little scared about what turning 18 would mean," she confesses, the memory painting a picture of a younger, more innocent version of herself.

Y/n's expression softens further, a tender, almost affectionate smile playing on her lips. "And here I am, dancing with the love of my life," she says, her words filled with an underlying note of gratitude and irony. It's a moment that feels like both a bittersweet memory and a present-day reality.

She locks eyes with Oscar, a flood of emotions clear in her gaze — affection, admiration, a hint of vulnerability. The greenhouse feels like a sort of sacred space, filled with memories and emotions that are both poignant and cherished.

Oscar smiles at Y/n, his eyes reflecting a mix of affection and curiosity. He seems to mull over a question for a moment before finally voicing it, his tone inquisitive but casual. "Can I ask you something?" he asks, his gaze drifting to her face. He waits for her to nod before continuing, "How are you and Sienna connected?"

Y/n nods, her expression taking on a nostalgic look as she explains. "Our fathers are best friends. They grew up together, just like Sienna and I did," she says, her voice carrying a note of familiarity and closeness. "So, naturally, our families are super close. We've practically grown up together. She's more a sister than a best friend at this point."

There's a fondness in her tone, a clear affection and connection with Sienna that goes deeper than just friendship. The knowledge that their families are tied together - their fathers being practically brothers - gives their relationship an extra layer of significance and history.

Y/n adds, her voice dropping to a quiet, almost reflective tone. "And you know, my mom moved to Australia to study high school, that's where she met your mom and all that. Then my mom went back to Monaco to study business, and my parents met in college. They eventually moved together to Italy."

Her words describe a life that's been somewhat chaotic but also filled with connections and meaningful moments. It's a life that's full of stories and history, a life that's shaped her in ways even she might not fully understand.

Y/n continues, a faraway look in her eyes as she recalls the events. "We only stayed here until I was 10, then we moved to Monaco because of some family issues on my mother's side," she says, her voice almost whispering the words, like they're part of a half-forgotten memory.

The mention of 'family problems' stirs up a myriad of unspoken implications, perhaps hinting at complexities and hardships in her family history.

Y/n continues, her voice taking on a more light-hearted tone. "When we moved into our new house in Monaco, it turns out that Arthur and Sienna are cousins, but neither of us- the children, knew till our families all ended up in Italy."

She chuckles a bit, the coincidence of it all adding an almost comedic element to the tale. Families, friends, and history are all interconnected in unforeseen and amusing ways.

The mention of families mixing together, with Arthur and Sienna being cousins, adds another layer to their familial web. It's a reminder that families can be as complex as they are close-knit, and sometimes, it takes moving countries to reveal these hidden connections. The humor in discovering such a connection after their move adds a touch of hilarity to the situation.

Y/n suddenly snaps out of her reminiscent state, her eyes widening slightly as she realizes how much she's said. A sheepish expression appears on her face, and she apologizes, her voice a tad embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping her. "I got a bit carried away there. Sorry for rambling so much."

Oscar, sensing her slight embarrassment, quickly reassures her. "No, it's fine," he says, his tone warm and encouraging. "Keep talking. I like hearing your voice."

His words are a testament to his interest in what she's saying, but also his desire to keep their conversation going, to keep learning more about her - her past, her thoughts, her feelings. It's a small, but meaningful gesture of interest and intimacy between them.

Y/n smiles, her embarrassment fading away a bit at his reassurance. She appreciates his interest and the fact that he actually enjoys listening to her. It gives her an unexpected boost of confidence, making her feel more comfortable and at ease.

Y/n, encouraged by his words and the comfortable atmosphere between them, continues talking. She picks up where she left off, her voice soft and thoughtful as she dives back into her recollection.

As she speaks, the rain continues to fall in a steady but less aggressive rhythm outside, adding a soothing soundtrack to their conversation.

Y/n observes the rain outside, noticing that it's started to lighten up a bit. She sighs, her expression showing a mix of reluctance and knowing. "Looks like the rain's starting to let up," she says, a note of resignation in her voice. "We should probably head back."

There's a pause, both of them seeming to acknowledge that their private sanctuary in the greenhouse is coming to an end. They'll have to return to the hustle and bustle of the party, though they both seem a little reluctant to leave the peaceful solitude they've found.

At Y/n's suggestion, Oscar starts to rise from his seat, pushing off the table and standing up. He stretches, his body a bit stiff from sitting in the same position for quite a while. As he straightens up, he runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it a bit.

As they both make their way towards the door, Oscar, ever the gentleman, opens it for her, gesturing for her to walk through first. He waits until she's outside before following her, stepping out into the night air.

Once outside, they find the rain has indeed lessened, though it's still not completely stopped. The air is cool and crisp, a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere inside the greenhouse. The sounds of the party have lessened somewhat, but there's still a buzz of activity in the distance.

They walk side by side, their hands intertwined as they make their way back to the main house. They walk slowly, their pace leisurely, neither in a hurry to return to the party. The night air is cool against their skin, and the distant sounds of the party provide a faint, almost soothing background noise.

As they walk back towards the house, Oscar looks over at her and asks, "Do you want to go home?" His voice is casual, but his gaze is searching, hoping for a favorable response.

Oscar suggests, a hint of genuine concern laced in his words. "You can always ask your father if we can go home. You can say you're not feeling well."

Y/n pondered the thought for a moment, her expression contemplating. Oscar's suggestion was not bad; it would certainly explain their early exit from the party. But she didn't want to cause a scene or make her father worry unnecessarily.

Still, the more she thought about it, the more the idea seemed appealing. She did feel a bit drained and was slightly tipsy. But there was also a part of her that didn't want the night to end just yet.

After a moment of hesitation, Y/n nodded. "Sure," she said, her voice a bit reluctant but determined. "I'll ask my dad if we can go home."

As they enter the living room, it's clear that they've both been caught in the rain. Their clothes are a bit damp, leaving small droplets of water on the floor. The sounds of the party that were previously muffled by the rain now become clear again, the hum of conversation and soft music filling the air.

They make their way into the dining room, the hum of conversation filling their ears as they enter. The adults, including Y/n's parents, are still engaged in their discussions, wine glasses in hand and faces flushed with the effects of alcohol.

Y/n's gaze automatically drifts towards her father, who is sitting at the table, surrounded by other adults. He's engaged in conversation, sipping from a wine glass, looking every bit the successful businessman he is. Noticing her and Oscar's entry, her father looks up, a brief glance at their soaked clothes and Y/n's face giving away her slightly tipsy state.

He raises an eyebrow in question, his gaze flickering over Y/n and Oscar. Seeing their drenched state and Y/n's tipsy appearance, it's clear he's expecting an explanation.

Y/n clears her throat, her heart beating a tad bit faster under her father's scrutinizing gaze. She steps forward, her eyes holding his for a moment before speaking. "Dad," she starts, her voice steady despite the slight buzz she's feeling, "I'm not feeling too well. Can Oscar and I go home?"

Her father regards her quietly for a moment, assessing her state. His expression doesn't give away his thoughts, but his eyes seem to linger on her flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes. Everyone else's conversation has gone quiet, and several pairs of eyes are now on them.

After a moment, her father nods, his expression slightly stern. "Alright," he says, his voice loud enough for the others to hear. "You two can head home. Drive safely, and make sure to text me when you get there, Y/n."

The other adults offer their goodbyes and well-wishes, a mixture of amusement and concern in their faces. Y/n's mother, a bit tipsy herself, pats Y/n on the cheek a little too hard, her words slurring slightly. "Be careful, love."

Y/n nods at her mother's words, forcing a thin smile on her face. She feels Oscar's presence beside her, his hand finding hers once again, an unspoken comfort in the gesture. They take a last moment to say goodbye to the adults, before finally making their way towards the exit.

As they head towards the exit, Y/n spots Marietta, their eyes meeting across the room. Despite the distance, there's something in Marietta's gaze that makes Y/n pause for a brief moment. It's a look that's a mix of curiosity and something else that Y/n can't quite decipher. The moment is over almost as quickly as it began, and Y/n and Oscar step outside, leaving the party behind.

As they approach the car, Oscar dutifully opens the passenger side door for her, a gallant gesture that's becoming familiar between them. Y/n smiles at him, a little bit of a tipsy blush on her face, appreciating his chivalry.

She gets into the car, the soft interior enveloping her in its familiar comfort. As Oscar closes the door behind her, she leans back against the leather seat, feeling a wave of fatigue mixed with the lingering effects of the alcohol.

She watches as Oscar walks around the car to the driver's side. It's a sight she's seen countless times before, but there's a sort of domestic intimacy about it that she finds oddly soothing in her slightly inebriated state.

Once Oscar gets into the car, he starts the engine, the low hum of the vehicle breaking the silence. He glances over at her, his expression a mix of concern and affection. "You okay?" he asks, his voice betraying a slight worry.

Y/n nods, her eyelids heavy and just a little bit unsteady. She offers him a small smile, trying to appear more put together than she feels at the moment. "I'm fine," she assures him, her words a tad bit slurred but mostly coherent.

Oscar looks at her for a moment longer, his gaze searching her face for any sign of discomfort. After a moment, he seems somewhat satisfied, his eyes turning back to the road. "Alright," he says, his tone gentle, "just relax, okay? We'll be home soon."

Y/n nods again, her eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. She lets out a soft sigh, the hum of the engine and the soft light of the street lamps outside creating a drowsy atmosphere in the car.

She pulls out her phone from her purse, the screen lighting up her face in the darkened car. Her movements are a bit sluggish, and her alcohol-impaired brain takes a bit longer to process simple actions. She starts to scroll through her phone, her fingers gliding across the screen as she absently checks her notifications.

She manages to muster enough coordination to connect her phone to the car's Bluetooth speakers, her eyes still flicking to Oscar's face every now and then. A moment later, music begins to play through the speakers, filling the car with a soft, sultry rhythm.

As she's scrolling through her phone, she suddenly feels a warmth on her thigh. It takes her a moment to realize it's Oscar's hand, his fingers gently brushing against the bare skin under her dress, sending a shiver down her spine. Her eyes widen slightly, her heart rate picking up as the realization sinks in, the touch both unexpected and not unwelcome.

The sudden feeling of his hand on her skin, the warmth of his touch against her bare thigh, is a sharp contrast to the coolness of the night air that wafts in from outside. She glances over at him, his gaze focused on the road ahead, but there's a slight smirk on his lips, a hint that he knows exactly what he's doing.

The realization that he's intentionally trying to tease her, the audacity of him to do this while he's driving, combined with the alcohol-clouded state, makes her feel a mix of irritation and a strange sort of arousal. She wants to say something, to protest, but the words get stuck in her throat, the touch of his hand on her thigh making thinking difficult.

Y/n manages to summon the presence of mind to speak, her words a mixture of playfulness and feigned annoyance. "Really Oz?" she says, her voice a tad bit breathless. The hand on her thigh continues to move, his thumb lightly tracing small circles against her skin. Oscar glances over at her, that smirk still on his lips.

"What?" he asks, his tone innocent, though the look in his eyes tells her he knows exactly what he's doing. "I'm just driving," he chuckles, his hand giving a gentle squeeze.

The subtle movement his hand makes, the way his fingers seem to be purposefully tracing a path up and down her inner thigh, serves as a constant, distracting reminder of his presence. It's clear that he's enjoying her reaction, the way her breath hitches a little, the way she tries to keep her composure.

Despite her efforts to appear unruffled, the effect his touch is having on her is undeniable. Her body betrays her, the warm wave of desire pooling in her core, her mind fuzzy from the alcohol and the distraction of his touch. It's a game they often play, a silent push and pull of control and surrender, and tonight, it seems like he's determined to have his way.

He occasionally glances over at her, his eyes glittering with a mix of amusement and desire. The car glides through the quiet streets, the only sounds are the hum of the engine and their heavy breathing. His hand never leaves her thigh, his touch both a comfort and a source of delicious torment.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally reaches the gates of Y/n's house. The imposing iron gates swing open quietly at the press of a button, and the car glides into the property, the headlights illuminating the path leading to the house.

As they pull into the driveway, the rain chooses that moment to start pouring heavily, the sound of it hitting the windows and roof of the car creating a soothing symphony. It almost seems like it's the only noise in the world, the silence inside the car adding to the intimate atmosphere.

Oscar parks the car, but it's slightly far from the house due to the crowded cars in front of the entrance. The rain beats against the windows, the soft tapping sound combining with the hum of the car's engine.

"Looks like we'll have to walk a bit," he says, his voice low and quiet. The rain is still pouring, the droplets hitting the ground and bouncing off the pavement, creating little streams that run down the driveway.

Y/n nods, the rain not really a deterrent in her slightly tipsy state. "I don't mind," she says, her voice a bit breathless. Despite her nonchalance, she's keenly aware of how her dress is sticking to her skin due to the dampness of the rain.

As the rain continues to pour, Oscar and Y/n step out of the car, both of them immediately getting drenched under the rain. The water soaks through their clothes, making the thin fabric cling to their bodies. Despite the cold, the rain seems to have the opposite effect, the feeling of the water on their skin adding an element of sensuality to the atmosphere.

With the rain falling so heavily, there's not really any time to waste. They quickly make their way to the front door, both of them running a little faster than usual, their clothes sticking to them like a second skin. The rain pelts down on them, the cold water mixing with the adrenaline of the moment.

They reach the door, both of them a bit breathless, their hair dripping with rain. Y/n fumbles with her keys for a moment, her hands shaky from both the rain and the alcohol. Finally, she manages to unlock the door, and they quickly step inside.

Despite the cold and wetness, Y/n can't help but giggle a little as she puts her purse on the table and takes out her phone. The alcohol is still humming in her veins, making her feel a bit more carefree than usual. She gives her phone a distracted glance, her attention more focused on the state of her clothes and the feeling of the rain-soaked clothes sticking to her skin.

Y/n fishes for her phone in her purse, her fingers fumbling a bit from the cold and her slightly tipsy state. Once she finds it, she quickly types a text message to her father.

"Hi Papa, we're back at home. We made it safe," she types, her words a little slurred but relatively coherent.

As she's in the middle of sending the text, she suddenly feels a pair of arms wrapping around her from behind, and a pair of warm lips brushing against the exposed side of her neck. The unexpected touch makes her gasp in surprise, the phone almost slipping from her grip.

Oscar moves his lips to her ear, whispering his words directly into it, the warmth of his breath sending little shivers down her spine. "You look beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

His hand slides down her waist, his touch light yet possessive, as if marking his territory. He pulls her closer to him, his body pressed against hers so that she can feel the heat and hardness of him against her.

"You have no idea how you look right now," he continues, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Dripping wet in that dress, your hair all wet and messy," he growls, his hand gripping her hip, his fingers slightly digging into her flesh through the fabric.

His words send a rush of heat through her, the combination of his touch and his words making it hard to think straight. She can feel her body responding to him instinctively, her skin prickling with desire, her breath coming in short gasps.

She leans back against him, her head lolling slightly to the side to give him more access to her neck, silently egging him on with her body. His touch is both tender and demanding, his words a mixture of praise and need.

Y/n turns around in the circle of his arms, her body still flush against his, her wet dress sticking to his shirt, creating an intimate and possessive barrier between them. Without hesitation, she kisses him, her lips meeting his in a heated and demanding embrace.

As she jumps up, wrapping her legs around his waist, he responds instantly, his hands automatically going to her thighs, supporting her weight and pulling her closer to him. The feeling of her body pressed against his, the heat and weight of her in his arms, it's all overwhelming and unbelievably arousing.

The kiss continues, their bodies pressed so tightly together that they seem to have melded into one, their mouths devouring each other hungrily. His hands run up and down her thighs, the feel of her skin, still slightly damp from the rain, driving him wild.

He takes a few steps back, leaning against the nearest wall, supporting Y/n as he does. Their mouths continue to move against each other, the kiss deep and consuming. His hands pull her closer, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as if he could never get her close enough.

After what feels like an eternity, Oscar finally breaks the kiss, his breath coming fast and harsh against her lips. He takes a moment to catch his breath, his hands still holding her against him.

"Your room or mine?" he whispers hoarsely, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

Y/n manages to find her voice, her words coming out a little breathless. "My room," she says, a hint of neediness in her tone. "We already did it in yours."

Oscar carries her all the way upstairs, his hands still gripping her thighs, the feeling of her body against his making it hard for him to focus on anything else. The trip up the stairs seems to take forever, each step bringing them closer to the privacy and intimacy of her room.

Y/n moaned, her hands tangling in Oscar's hair, pulling him closer. Their bodies pressed together, their clothes doing little to hide their arousal. Oscar lightly kicks the door to her bedroom, his impatience and need for her getting the better of him

He sets Y/n down gently on her feet, his hands never leaving her body. He steps back, his eyes raking over her, drinking in her curves, visible through her damp dress.

Oscar reaches behind her, finding the zipper of her dress. Slowly, he pulled it down, his knuckles brushing against her spine, sending shivers down her body. The dress falls open, revealing her bare skin, her breath hitching as the cool air hits her.

Oscar's eyes darken with desire, his hands reaching for the straps of her dress, pushing them off her shoulders, letting the material slide down her body, pooling at her feet.

Y/n stood before Oscar, her dress discarded, her body on full display. Her bare breasts rose and fell with each breath, her nipples hardened peaks, begging for touch. Her white lace panties were damp, the evidence of her arousal visible.

His eyes roamed over her, his gaze hungry, his body hungry with need. "You're beautiful Y/n," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/n blushed, her hands reaching for Oscar, pulling him closer. "And you're overdressed," she whispered, her voice a sultry whisper.

Oscar laughed, his hands moving to his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly. He shrugged it off, tossing it aside, his chest bare, his muscles defined.

Y/n's eyes widened, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Much better," she murmured, her hands reaching for him, her fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen.

Y/n kicked her dress aside, breaking the kiss, her eyes filled with desire. She pushed Oscar back, causing him to sit down on the edge of the bed. She followed, dropping to her knees in front of him.

Her hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it, her fingers deft as she unbuttoned his pants, lowering the zipper. She looked up at Oscar, her eyes filled with hunger. "I want to taste you," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper.

Y/n leaned in, her breath hot against Oscar's length, her tongue darting out to lick the tip, tasting the bead of pre-cum. She smirked, her eyes meeting his. "You like that, don't you, Oscar?" she teased, her voice a low purr.

Oscar groaned, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him. "Yes, Y/n, please," he begged, his voice thick with need.

Y/n chuckled, her fingers wrapping around his base, guiding him to her mouth. She took him in, her lips stretching around his width, her tongue swirling around his shaft. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing, taking him whole, her nose pressing against his abdomen.

Oscar let out a low moan, his hands reaching for Y/n's hair, guiding her movements. "God, Y/n, you look so pretty taking my cock in your mouth," he praised, his voice filled with desire.

Y/n hummed, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through Oscar. She began to move, her head bobbing, her tongue working in tandem with her lips, creating a rhythm that had Oscar's toes curling.

His hands tightened in her hair, his hips bucking slightly, his body responding to her ministrations. "That feels so good, baby," he groaned, his voice strained.

Y/n continued, her movements becoming more enthusiastic, her suction increasing. She could feel Oscar's body tensing, his release approaching.

Suddenly, pulled her off him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Stop, Y/n, I don't want to cum like this," he said, his voice firm but gentle.

Y/n pouted, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "Why not?" she asked, her voice somewhat complaining.

Oscar smiled, his hands reaching for Y/n, pulling her up onto the bed with him. "Because I want to cum inside you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Oscar moved Y/n, gently laying her down on her back, his eyes filled with desire as he looked at Y/n. "But first, I want to watch you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Play with yourself for me, Y/n. Show me how you want to be touched."

"Show me what you like, Y/n. Touch yourself for me," Oscar urged, his voice thickening with desire. "I want to see you pleasure yourself, baby."

Y/n bit her lip, her cheeks flushing at Oscar's request. But the desire in his eyes was too much to resist. She lay back, her hands sliding down her body, her fingers hooking into the sides of her panties, slowly pulling them off.

Oscar watched, his eyes darkening with desire as Y/n stripped for him. He stood at the end of the bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly, matching the rhythm of Y/n's movements.

Y/n spread her legs, her fingers finding her center, rubbing slow circles over her clit. She let out a soft moan, her back arching, her body responding to her touch.

Oscar's grip tightened, his strokes becoming more urgent. "That's it, Y/n, show me how you like it," he urged, his voice thick with need.

Y/n's fingers plunged into her depths, her moans growing louder, her body writhing. "Oscar, I want you," she gasped, her eyes meeting his. "I want you to fuck me, hard. I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my own name."

She switched to rubbing her clit, her movements frantic, her body chasing its release. "I want to feel you, Oscar, fill me up, make me yours. I want you to fuck me senseless."

Y/n's breathing grew heavier, her fingers moving faster, her body tensing. "Oscar, please," she begged, her voice desperate. "I need you inside me, now. I can't wait any longer. Please, fuck me, make me cum, make me scream your name."

Her body convulsed, her orgasm approaching. "Oscar, please, I need you," she pleaded, her eyes filled with desperation.

Oscar suddenly grabbed Y/n's wrists, pulling her hands away from her pussy. She let out a cry of frustration, her body arching, seeking release.

"No," Oscar said firmly, his voice a low growl. "The only way you're going to cum tonight is by my mouth, my fingers, or my cock. Understand?"

Y/n whimpered, her body trembling with need. "Yes, I understand," she whispered, her eyes filled with desire and frustration.

Oscar smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. "Good girl," he praised, his voice soft. He picked up Y/n's discarded panties, holding them up to her face. "Now, be quiet for me, alright? Or else I'll have to find something to keep that pretty mouth of yours busy."

He held the panties near her lips, his eyebrow raised in warning. "Understood?"

Y/n nodded frantically, her eyes wide. "Yes, Oz," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She pressed her lips together, her body trembling with anticipation and excitement.

Oscar grinned, pleased with Y/n's compliance. He positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs, lifting them up, opening her to him.

He leaned in, his tongue finding her center, licking her from bottom to top. Y/n let out a soft moan, her body jerking, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her.

Oscar looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "Remember our deal," he reminded her, his voice a low warning.

Y/n nodded, biting her lip to keep from making noise. Oscar smiled, his tongue delving into her depths, his fingers joining in, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come.

She struggled to remain silent, her moans building, her body writhing under Oscar's expert touch. She bit her lip, her nails digging into her palms, trying to keep quiet.

Oscar could sense her struggle, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, bringing her closer to the edge. Just as Y/n thought she couldn't take it anymore, Oscar stopped, his head lifting, his eyes meeting hers.

"Be quiet, Y/n," he warned, his voice stern. "Or else."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her body still tingling from Oscar's touch. "I'm sorry" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She bit her lip, her eyes filled with determination. "I'll be good, I promise."

Oscar smiled, satisfied with Y/n's apology. He lowered his head, his tongue finding her clit, sucking it into his mouth, his fingers plunging into her depths.

Y/n let out a soft gasp, her body arching, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. She bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut, determined to stay quiet.

Just as Oscar's fingers found that sweet spot inside Y/n, she let out a loud moan, her body convulsing. Oscar immediately stopped, looking up at her with a disapproving glare.

"Naughty girl," he chided, grabbing her panties. Before Y/n could react, he stuffed them into her mouth, gagging her. "There, that should keep you quiet."

Her eyes widened, surprise and humiliation flashing across her face. She mumbled something incoherent, her body squirming, trying to remove the makeshift gag.

Oscar held her thighs down, preventing her from moving. "Uh-uh, none of that," he scolded, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You wanted to be fucked senseless, didn't you? Well, we can't have you screaming the house down, now can we?"

He leaned back in, his tongue resuming its assault on Y/n's pussy. "And I can't have you screaming my name," he murmured, his voice muffled. "Not with your parents due home anytime. Wouldn't want to ruin my good impression."

Despite the gag, Y/n's moans and whines continued to escape, filling the room. Oscar pulled away, his brow furrowing in disapproval.

"Enough," he said firmly, giving her pussy a sharp slap. Y/N jumped, her body jerking, her eyes widening in surprise and pain. She let out a muffled squeak, her body stilling.

Oscar looked up at Y/n, his expression serious. "If you want to cum tonight, you're going to need to be a good girl," he said, his voice firm. "No more noises, understand? You can nod if you do."

Y/n hesitated for a moment before nodding reluctantly, her eyes filled with determination. Oscar smiled, pleased with her compliance. "Good girl," he praised, before diving back in, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, bringing Y/n closer to the edge.

Oscar could feel Y/n's body tensing, her orgasm approaching. He slowed his movements, his tongue and fingers retreating just as she was about to tumble over the edge.

Y/n let out a frustrated moan, her body arching, seeking release. Oscar looked up at her, a wicked grin on his face. "Not yet, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low chuckle. "We've got all night, remember?"

Oscar lifted Y/n from the bed, positioning her over his lap. She let out a surprised yelp, her body tensing as she realized what was about to happen.

"Oscar, what are you doing?" she mumbled, her words muffled by the panties in her mouth.

Oscar removed the panties from Y/n's mouth, throwing them aside. "I'm giving you a chance to redeem yourself," he said, his voice stern. "I'm going to spank you, and you're going to count. If you get the number wrong or skip it, we start again from one. Understand?"

Y/N nodded, her body tense, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, Sir," she whispered, her voice filled with apprehension.

Oscar's eyes widened briefly at Y/n's use of 'Sir', but he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he simply smiled, his hand raised, coming down sharply on Y/N's ass.

"One," she gasped, her body jerking at the sudden impact. "Good girl," Oscar praised, his hand rising again.

"Two," Y/n counted, her voice steady despite the sting on her ass. Oscar continued, his hand falling in a rhythmic pattern, each smack echoing through the room.

"Three... Four... Five..." Y/n whimpers, her body tensing with each strike, her ass growing warm and red. Despite the pain, she felt a strange sensation building inside her, her body responding to the punishment.

"Six... Seven... Nine!" Y/n counted, her voice breathless. Suddenly, she realized her mistake, her eyes widening. "Wait, eight!" she corrected, her voice panicked.

Oscar tsked, shaking his head in disappointment. "Too late, sweetheart," he said, his voice firm. "You skipped eight. We start again from one."

Y/n's tears started to fall, her body trembling with frustration and unshed orgasms. After several failed attempts, Oscar paused, gently pulling on her hair, and forcing her to look at him.

"Hey, hey, look at me," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "Is this too much, Y/n? Do you want me to stop?"

Y/n shook her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting Oscar's. "No, please don't stop," she begged, her voice hoarse. "I just... I just want to cum, Oscar. I'm sorry for disobeying you. Please, just let me cum."

Oscar smiled, leaning down to capture Y/n's lips in a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away her tears. "Okay, sweetheart," he said softly. "We'll do the spanking again. This time, I'll go slow, and I'll help you. Alright?"

She nodded, her body relaxing, her eyes filled with hope. "Yes, Oscar," she whispered.

Oscar positioned Y/n back over his lap, his hand gently caressing her now-reddened ass. "Ready?" he asked, his voice soft.

Y/n nodded, bracing herself. "Yes," she said, her voice steadier than before. "I'm ready."

Oscar landed a light spank on Y/n's ass, the sound echoing through the room. "One," he said, his voice calm and clear.

"One," Y/n repeated, her voice steady. She braced herself, ready for the next one.

Oscar spanked Y/n again and again, each spank growing harder than before. "Five," he counted, his voice firm.

Y/n winced, her body tensing at the increased intensity. "Five," she echoed, her voice slightly strained. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and focused.

Oscar brought his hand down hard on Y/n's ass one last time, the sound of the smack echoing loudly. "Ten," he said, his voice firm.

Y/n cried out, her body jerking, her ass stinging from the force of the blow. Tears sprang to her eyes, her body trembling. "Ten," she gasped, her voice barely audible.

Oscar pulled Y/n off his lap, setting her gently on the bed. He looked down at her, his eyes softening as he saw her tears. "See?" he said, his voice gentle. "It wasn't so hard to follow such simple instructions, was it?"

Y/n sniffled, wiping away her tears. She looked up at Oscar, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions. "No, Oscar," she admitted, her voice soft. "It wasn't." She took a deep breath, her body still tingling from the spanking. "What now?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation.

Oscar smiled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Patience, sweetheart," he said, his voice low. "All in good timing."

He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between Y/n's legs. He wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking it slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/n watched, her breath hitching as Oscar's cock grew harder, longer. Then, without warning, he rubbed the tip against her clit, causing her to gasp

Oscar chuckled at Y/n's reaction, repeating the motion, rubbing his cock against her clit, teasing her. "Like that, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

She nodded, her body arching, seeking more friction. "Yes, Oscar," she gasped, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. "Please, more."

Oscar continued to tease Y/n, his cock rubbing against her clit, his movements slow and deliberate. He could feel her body tensing, her orgasm approaching.

"Not yet, sweetheart," he said, his voice firm. He pulled back, denying her release once again.

Oscar looked down at Y/n, his eyes filled with amusement. "Remember, the only way you're cumming tonight is on my tongue, fingers, or cock," he said, his voice a low reminder. "So, which will it be, sweetheart?"

She looked up at Oscar, her eyes filled with desperation. "Your cock, Oscar," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Please, I need you inside me. I can't wait any longer."

Oscar smiled, positioning himself at Y/n's entrance. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with desire. "As you wish," he said, his voice low.

With one thrust, he slid his cock into Y/n's tight pussy, filling her completely. She let out a cry of pleasure, her body arching, her nails digging into his back.

Oscar began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. "Shh, sweetheart," he reminded Y/n, his voice firm. "Remember, be quiet or I'll have to use those panties again to shut you up."

He looked down at her hands, which were exploring his body. "And keep your hands to yourself, or I'll have to use my belt," he added, his voice a low warning.

Y/n's hands continued to roam, ignoring Oscar's warning. With a sigh, he pulled out of her, grabbing his belt from the floor. He flipped her onto her hands and knees, pushing her upper body down onto the bed.

"Arms behind your back," he ordered, his voice stern. Y/n complied, her arms crossing behind her. Oscar quickly tied her wrists together with his belt, securing them tightly.

Oscar looked down at Y/n, her ass in the air, her wrists bound behind her back. He ran a hand over her reddened cheeks, his voice a low murmur. "Maybe you like being used like this, hmm? Maybe that's why you're acting like such a little brat."

He gave her ass a sharp slap, causing her to jump. "Answer me, Y/n. Do you like being used like this?"

Y/n hesitated for a moment before admitting, "Yes, Oscar. I... I do like it. I like being used like this." Her voice was small, filled with shame. "I'm sorry for being a brat."

Oscar smiled, running a hand possessively over Y/n's ass. "Don't be sorry, sweetheart," he said, his voice low. "I like using you like this. And I think you deserve a reward for being honest."

He positioned himself at her entrance, his cock pressing against her. "How about I fuck you nice and hard, hmm? Would you like that?"

"Yes, please," Y/n breathed, her body tensing in anticipation. But before she could say anything else, Oscar stuffed her panties back into her mouth, gagging her.

"Then be a good girl, keep quiet and take my cock, okay?" he said, his voice firm. Without waiting for an answer, he slammed into her, filling her completely.

Y/n let out a muffled moan, her body arching as Oscar filled her. Her hands, tied behind her back, tried to grip the air, seeking something to hold onto as he began to move, his hips slamming into her with increasing force.

Oscar watched, a smirk playing on his lips as Y/n struggled to keep quiet, her body writhing beneath him. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

Y/n's moans grew louder, her body tensing as her orgasm approached. Oscar could feel her pussy tightening around his cock, her body begging for release.

"Not yet, sweetheart," he growled, pinching her clit, denying her orgasm. "You know better than that."

She lets out a frustrated moan, her body bucking against Oscar's restraint. He grabbed her hips, holding her still, his cock continuing to pound into her.

"You're not in charge here, Y/n," he reminded her, his voice firm. "I am. And I say when you cum. Not a moment sooner."

Oscar's thrusts became harder, faster, the bed creaking beneath them. He could feel his own orgasm approaching, his body tensing.

"I'm gonna cum, Y/n," he grunted, his fingers finding her clit once again. "And I'm gonna cum with you. Understand?"

Y/n nodded, her body tensing in anticipation. Oscar began to rub her clit in earnest, his cock slamming into her, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

With a final thrust, Oscar came, his cock pulsing inside Y/n. She followed soon after, her body convulsing, her pussy contracting around him. As she did, she squirted a little, the liquid going unnoticed by Oscar, who was lost in his own pleasure.

Oscar pulled out of Y/n, flipping her onto her back. He looked down at her, a satisfied smile on his face. "Mmm, looks like I made a mess," he said, his voice low.

He knelt on the floor, pulling her to the edge of the bed. He kissed her thighs, his tongue licking up his cum, cleaning her up. "I always clean up my mess, sweetheart," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

Oscar continued to lick and kiss Y/n's thighs, his tongue moving lower and lower until he reached her pussy. He looked up at her, a wicked grin on his face before burying his face between her legs, his tongue delving into her folds.

Her cum and his mixed on his tongue, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the taste, his tongue lapping up every drop.

Y/n let out muffled moans, her body writhing as Oscar's tongue worked its magic. He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched her react to his touch.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice muffled by her pussy. She nodded, her eyes filled with pleasure. Oscar smiled, his tongue continuing its assault

"Mmm-hmm," Y/n mumbled, her hips bucking against Oscar's face, seeking more friction. "Yes, fuck," she managed to say around the panties in her mouth. "Feels so good."

Oscar chuckled, his hands spreading Y/n's thighs wider, giving him better access. "I'm glad you like it, sweetheart," he said, his voice low. "Now, be a good girl and come for me one more time, hmm?" His tongue found her clit, sucking it into his mouth.

Her body tensed, her orgasm washing over her. She let out a muffled scream, her hips grinding against Oscar's face as she came, her juices flowing onto his tongue. He lapped it up, his tongue continuing to work her clit, drawing out her pleasure.

Oscar stood up, pulling the panties from Y/n's mouth. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.

She struggled against the belt binding her wrists, letting out a frustrated groan. Oscar gently flipped her onto her stomach, unbuckling the belt and freeing her wrists.

Y/n moved her wrists, rubbing them to restore circulation. She turned to face Oscar, reaching up to kiss him. He was slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly, kissing her back with equal fervor, his hands tangling in her hair.

Oscar pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Someone's needy," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Can't get enough of me, can you?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes still glassy from her earlier tears. She straddled Oscar, her hands resting on his chest. "I can't help it," she admitted, her voice soft. "You make me feel things I've never felt before."

Oscar smiled, his hands pulling Y/n closer, his lips capturing hers in another searing kiss. Abruptly, he broke away, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Sit on my face, sweetheart," he ordered, his voice low. "Let's see if I can make you feel even more."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But at the sight of Oscar's eager expression, she climbed up his body, straddling his face, her pussy hovering above his mouth.

Y/N sank down onto Oscar's face, his nose brushing against her clit. He gripped her thighs, pushing her down, holding her in place as his tongue delved into her pussy, licking and sucking, devouring her.

"Oh god, Oz," Y/N moaned, her body writhing. "Calm down, you might not be able to breathe like that." But her words were half-hearted, her body already chasing another orgasm.

Oscar chuckled, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through Y/n. "I can handle it, sweetheart," he muttered, his tongue continuing its relentless assault. "Now, ride my face like a good girl."

Y/n obeyed, her hips moving in rhythm with Oscar's tongue, her moans growing louder, her body tensing as another orgasm approached. "Oz, I'm gonna cum," she warned, her voice breathless.

Oscar growled, his hands gripping her thighs tighter, pushing her down harder onto his face. "Cum for me, sweetheart," he demanded, his tongue flicking against her clit. "Cum all over my face."

"Oz, please," Y/n whimpered, her body twitching with each swipe of his tongue. "It's too much. I can't take anymore." But Oscar ignored her pleas, his tongue continuing its relentless assault.

Finally, Y/n couldn't take anymore. She collapsed forward, her body spent, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Oscar chuckled, his hands gentling on her thighs, his tongue slowing, bringing her down from her high.

"We're not done yet, sweetheart," Oscar said, a wicked glint in his eye. Before she could respond, he lifted her, placing her in front of him, her legs spread wide, facing the mirror on her wall. "Watch, Y/n," he commanded, his cock pressing against her entrance. "Watch us."

Oscar's fingers found Y/n's clit, circling it, teasing it. Every now and then, he'd dip his fingers into her pussy, just enough to make her gasp, before retreating, leaving her wanting more. All while she watched their reflection in the mirror.

Y/n looked away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. But Oscar wasn't having it. He grabbed her chin, turning her face towards the mirror. "Eyes on us, Y/n," he ordered his voice firm. "Watch what I do to you."

She hesitantly met her own gaze in the mirror, watching as Oscar's fingers continued to tease her. She could see the flush on her cheeks, the dilation of her pupils, and the way her body responded to his touch.

Oscar smiled, pressing kisses along Y/n's neck, feeling her shiver in response. "Good girl," he whispered, his fingers never stopping their movement. "You look so beautiful like this, all flushed and needy."

Y/n let out a moan as she felt Oscar's cock slide into her, inch by inch. She watched in the mirror as her body stretched to accommodate him, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before snapping open again, following Oscar's orders.

"Do you see that, baby?" Oscar asked, his voice low. "See how you take my cock so well? Like you were made for it."

Y/n moaned, her legs shaking as she slowly bounced on Oscar's cock. His fingers found her clit, rubbing in time with her movements, making her moan even louder. She could feel his cum from earlier leaking out of her, adding to the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," Oscar groaned, his fingers tightening on her hips, guiding her movements. "You feel so good. Ride my cock, baby. Make yourself cum again."

She whimpered, her body struggling to keep up. Her legs were weak, her muscles protesting, but she pushed through, her body chasing another orgasm. She could feel it building, her breath coming in short gasps, her vision starting to blur.

Oscar's fingers pressed firmly against Y/n's clit, pushing her over the edge. She screamed, her body convulsing, her pussy contracting around Oscar's cock, squirting her release. He groaned, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his cum once again.

Oscar kept thrusting, drawing out Y/n's orgasm, making her squirt again and again. The bed beneath them grew wet, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room. Y/N's screams echoed off the walls, her body completely at Oscar's mercy.

Their orgasms finally subsided, both of them breathing heavily. Oscar rested his head on her shoulder, his body still shuddering with aftershocks. "Fuck, Y/n," he panted. "That was..." he trailed off, unable to find the words.

"That was amazing," Y/n breathed, her body still trembling. Oscar laughed, lifting his head to look at her. "It really was," he agreed. "I didn't know you could squirt, sweetheart."

Y/n chuckled, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "Neither did I," she admitted. "Guess we learned something new today."

The sound of the front gate opening had both of them freezing. They sat up straight, panic setting in. "Shit, my parents," Y/N whispered, her eyes wide. "And mine too," Oscar added, quickly pulling out of her and grabbing his clothes.

She let out a hiss of pain as Oscar pulled out, her body still sensitive and sore from their activities. She quickly started gathering her own clothes, her heart pounding in her chest.

Oscar rushed to get dressed, throwing Y/n's clothes to her. "Here, put these on," he urged, helping her into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top. "We need to clean up this room before your parents get here."

"No, I'll clean up," Oscar insisted, grabbing a towel and starting to wipe down the bed. "You go downstairs and stall them. Tell them I'm not feeling well and I went to lie down."

Y/n nodded, her steps wobbling as she made her way to the door. "Be quick, Oz," she whispered before closing the door behind her and heading downstairs.

Y/n

I quickly run down the stairs, my feet quiet on the wooden steps. My heart is still thrumming in my chest from the rush of it all, the near miss having sent a burst of adrenaline through me.

I reach the bottom of the stairs, my breath still coming a bit fast from the speed at which I came down. The realization that my parents and his parents could have caught us is still fresh in my mind, adding a bit of a thrill to the whole situation.

The sound of the front door opening catches my attention, and I freeze at the bottom of the stairs when I see who it is. My parents, my brother, Oscar's parents, and his sister. They're all chatting and laughing, the effects of alcohol present on everyone's faces except Gabriel's (who is half asleep).

I stand there, my heart rate picking up, my mind still racing as I try to process the unexpected arrival.

The sight of all our family members together is a bit overwhelming, especially given the state and Oscar and I are currently in. I take a deep breath, hoping that the flush on my skin in the aftermath of our earlier activities is not too obvious.

May, being the most sober of the group, immediately notices my disheveled state and smirks to herself, clearly aware of the situation. The rest of the group, still a bit drunk, remain oblivious to the obvious clues, chatting and laughing amongst themselves, completely oblivious to our predicament upstairs.

My dad, seeing me at the foot of the stairs, looks surprised. He notices my flushed skin and the slight sheen of sweat on my forehead, and can't help but ask, "Why are you so sweaty?"

Caught off guard by my dad's question, quickly makes up an excuse. She pauses for a moment, my mind racing for a convincing reason why I'd be so sweaty.

"Oh," I finally manage to say, "I was, uh, cleaning my room. I just finished."

The lie sounds weak even to my own ears, but thankfully the group seems to buy it, or at least not question it further. My dad just nods, still looking at her with a hint of curiosity, while the rest of the group continue their loud conversation, oblivious to the lie.

Y/n trails behind the group, her mind still a bit frazzled from the close call. She keeps her distance a bit, not wanting to call attention to her flushed skin or disheveled state. The sounds of laughter and chatter fill the air, and everyone is in high spirits.

Once everybody else has gone to their rooms, Y/n finally relaxes a little. She takes a moment to steady herself, taking a deep breath to calm her still-racing heart. Then, she approaches her bedroom door and knocks, signaling to Oscar that everything is clear.

Y/n enters the room, finding Oscar already inside, changing the sheets. The sight of him making the bed, his muscular back and broad shoulders moving under his shirt, sends a small flutter of desire through her.

Y/n gives Oscar a small smile, her eyes tracing over his form for a moment before she speaks. "The coast is clear," she says, her voice a bit softer than usual. "You can go back to your room and change now."

Oscar nods and continues changing the sheets, his focus on the task at hand. A few moments later, he finishes and stands up, giving Y/n a quick smile before leaving the room and making his way back towards his own room.

He walks over to the bed and lays down beside Y/n, the mattress shifting slightly under his weight. He turns towards her, looking at her tired face, a small smile on his lips. He reaches for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, a silent reassurance.

Oscar, seeing the exhaustion on her face, looks at her tenderly and asks, "Are you sleepy?" His voice is soft and soothing, a direct contrast to the earlier heat and passion.

As she turns to face him, her hands immediately find their way under his shirt, her slender fingers brushing against his skin. The simple touch is enough to make him shiver slightly, his body reacting to her instinctively. He looks at her, his gaze full of tenderness and desire.

Y/n's hands run over his skin, her touch lingering on his chest, seeking the warmth of his body. She cuddles a little closer, her body curving against his. "You're warm," she murmurs sleepily, her voice a bit muffled against his shoulder.

Oscar chuckles softly, amused by her sleepy murmurs. He runs a hand through her hair, gently soothing her. "Go to sleep now," he whispers, his voice a gentle command.

Y/n nods, her eyelids already feeling heavy. She snuggles closer to his chest, her body instinctively seeking his warmth and comfort. Her breathing slowly evens out as she begins to drift off, her mind succumbing to the exhaustion and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

As Y/n drifts off to sleep, Oscar watches her for a moment, a tender smile on his face. Carefully, he reaches for the end of the blanket and tugs it up over her body, tucking her in snugly. He lays there next to her, the silence of the night broken only by the soft sound of her breathing.

oscarpiastrii

liked by may.piastri, hattie_pia, ediepastry and 814 others oscarpiastrii She's my girl (Some of the pics are from Y/n 😂) tagged yn.jpg

yn.jpg you sap ↳ oscarpiastrii I love you too

hattie_pia wow. okay.

ediepastry my little boy is all grown up ↳ oscarpiastrii I'm older than you...?

may.piastri hattie_pia wheres my 5 bucks ↳ hattie_pia stfu im omw to ur room ↳ oscarpiastrii What do you mean 5 bucks. ↳ may.piastri oh we made a bet if you'd actually become y/ns bf (especially after you wouldn't stop talking abt her otw home when they were in Australia) ↳ yn.jpg OH???? ↳ oscarpiastrii may.piastri Delete your account.

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trypo-p · 3 months ago

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Things that TF2 Fanfictions need to do

Not make Soldier look like a complete villain in EVERY fic. I'm so tired of this.

Actually include Demoman

Give Heavy a personality outside of "I love this Doktor!"

Not completely baby Pyro. Pyro isn't a child. Sure they have childlike whimsy but they aren't an actual child.

Include Sniper into the "Scout needs a Dad" trope.

Make Engineer swear more

Give Sniper more of a personality outside of being a loner. Sure he is a loner but he can also be outgoing!

Oblivious Miss Pauling. Also not making her whole personality "girl boss" she's got personality too!!!

Bottom Heavy. Do I have to elaborate.

Awkward Top Scout. We know how things went with Zhanna.

Make Spy more disgusting. "He's fancy and a gentleman" he publicly pisses on walls too and this is canon.

Please make Spy more awkward. He seems smart but he really isn't the smartest. Have you heard ANY of the voice lines he says after dominating someone? They're goofy as hell and I love them

Medic having a personality outside of being gay. We know he's fruity but he's got a bit more to him than fruit.

Sniper is a nerd about his job. He has an apricot air freshener in his van + he makes the code word between him and Spy "apricot". We need more nerdy Sniper.

#trypo.txt #trypo-p #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 soldier #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 fic #fanfiction #fan fiction #seriously i need more demoman in fanfic he is either absent or has one cameo #demoman my belemoman

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astxroiid · 12 days ago

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harry's girl // any!peter parker -- non powered!au/virgin!peter

and she's loving him with that body, i just know it.

❥ you're dating Harry Osborne, Peter's best friend since kindergarten. And that should be totally fine... except Peter can't stop thinking about you. ((NSFW)) ib: jessie's girl by rick springfield. playlist

wc: 6k - should be more, imo but, whatever, i'm lazy.

navigation

Peter Parker and Harry Osborne had been inseparable since, basically, birth. Well, except for the four years of high school that Harry's dad had sent him away to private school.

Both boys had tried to stay in touch, but with the distance, and honors classes, and clubs it was difficult.

After high school, both Peter and Harry ended up at The Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Elated to see one another, Harry had invited Peter to a beginning of the year party being hosted by one of his friends.

Peter tentatively accepted.

He had walked into this house expecting something not completely unlike the grandeur he found. Marble floors, giant windows, and authentic art adorning the magnificence of the estate.

A home so nice, Peter never believed he'd ever step foot in one. Classical music was flowing from all corners of the manor, bringing Peter out of his daze.

I mean, who plays Mozart at a college party?

Except; this isn't college, it's an institute. And this is no mere party, it was a gathering of some of the richest and smartest twenty-something's in the country to drink expensive booze, or liquor rather, and have sex.

A lot of which was already taking place around him.

Peter found an antique looking loveseat in the corner of the drawing room and slunk into it.

He opened his phone, scrolling through a random social feed and allowing his mind to go numb.

"Parker!" A tall, thin boy emerged through the crowd of bodies, smiling from ear to ear.

"Osborne." Peter smiles back, standing to greet his friend.

"I'm glad you made it! I didn't know if it was your scene or not, but I hope you enjoy it all the same."

Peter nodded, looking to Harry's side and making eye contact with one of the most beautiful people he's ever seen. "Oh. Hello," His voice is small.

"Hi," you smile at the charming boy in front of you.

Peter feels himself internally retreat back, instantly self conscious of what you think of him. Was he weird for being on his phone at a party? Were the clothes he picked out wrong? Did he seem uninteresting?

"Ah, Peter. This is my girl," Harry squeezes you closer to him and you both smile as he gives Peter your name.

Having his fear confirmed, Peter gives a tight smile.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter didn't care much for the party. The drinks were nice, but he'd honestly rather be home.

He found himself outside on the porch, propped on the railing and watching his sigh disappear in the cold night air.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Days turned into weeks of school, studying, reluctantly being drug off to parties, and staring at a wall - trying not to notice you and Harry in the corner, making out.

Every now and then, Peter would watch Harry drag you off to one of the bedrooms, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach.

Most often, though, Peter would hide in the bathroom. He was trying to avoid the sight altogether.

That's where he is now. Sat on the edge of the tub, head rested in his hands as he internally screams at himself.

You can't have a crush on your best friend's girlfriend! That's the biggest rule in bro-code! What the fuck is wrong with me?

Peter rubbed his hands down his face. Sighing. His rumination broken by the sudden slam of a door. Giggling and shuffling.

Peter hadn't given much thought to choosing a bathroom that was connected to a bedroom. Until now.

He cracked the door open and the sight before him made his mouth dry. You were pushing Harry onto the bed, scooting your dress down your body.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Peter quickly, but quietly shut the door. Heart pounding, he slides down the wall.

"God, you're so beautiful," Harry sighed.

Peter pressed a fist to his eye. God I'm an idiot.

It wasn't long before he heard moaning, damn near screaming, and dirty talk he'd rather have never heard from his best friend.

"Such a good girl... just like that... fuck."

Peter would cover his ears but it'd do no good. Instead he covers his face, ignoring the twitch in his pants at every single noise you make. He tries not to think about what's going on behind that door.

But his mind keeps flowing back. To you. To your body, your moans. It's not long before Peter is hard and imagining how good it'd feel to be inside you.

He can hear everything. Every time you cum, which has been many. Every time the position changes. Even every time Harry puts his hand around your throat.

It's everything Peter can do to not touch himself right there in the bathroom. He's gripping at the sides of his pants, trying - desperately - to hold out.

Finally, he can hear Harry finish. All three of you out of breath. A kiss. And what sounds like clothes being put back on.

"I gotta go, baby. The boys are wanting me to do a final round of shots with them."

"I gotta go too, my roommate wants me to bring take-out on my way back."

With that, silence follows for the first time in what felt to Peter like hours.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

When Peter got home he ran a cold shower instantly. Scrubbing his body raw and pushing his mind away from anything to do with you.

Harsh indeed, but necessary.

And as he laid down in bed, he tossed and turned all night. The only dreams and thoughts he had were of you.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter Parker awoke the next morning more erect than the night before. He had his subconscious to thank for that.

This began a series of sleepless nights for Peter. Each night restless, and each morning flustered.

He had opted out of the last three parties Harry had invited him to. All being on a Friday night, Peter lied and said he had a weekend full of studying to do.

"Always the most dedicated student, even in your twenties, I see," Harry had mused this afternoon.

Peter gave an awkward nod of his head and walked away.

Later in the evening, Harry had texted Peter.

I know you said you're busy this weekend, but you should drop by my place for some lunch tomorrow.

Peter flopped his phone beside him on the couch, sighing. He hated what his feelings had made of him. He was avoiding his best friend of years all because of a stupid crush.

He picked his phone back up.

I'm sure I can squeeze in a lunch. It better not be that pizza from last time though.

Peter smiled at the memory of the burnt pizza Harry had attempted to make, turning his head back to the tv.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter walked into Harry's apartment, following the information given to him the night prior about the door being unlocked.

He looked around, admiring Harry's decorations. His friend is nowhere to be found. Peter called out,

"Hey, Harry?"

Silence.

Maybe he's getting changed or something.

Peter makes his way back to what he assumes to be the bedroom. He freezes about a foot away from the door. It's wide open. And he can see the whole room.

To put it gently, you and Harry seemed to be having a great time.

You were on top of him, blanket wrapped around your waist with your bare back showing. Soft moans flowing down the hallway.

Peter couldn't take his eyes away from the indents Harry's fingertips were making in your lower back.

Shit.

Peter's pants tightened. He couldn't look away. The way you were slowly rising and falling onto Harry's lap instantly being etched into Peter's mind.

"Fuck... Harry... m'gonna..." you threw your head back.

He had never heard such an angelic sound in his life. Poor Peter believed he might have a heart attack at the sight before him. All he could do was blink.

The echo of your climax rattled its way through the apartment. And finally, Peter came back to earth.

Fuck. Fuck, what if they see me? God, it's gonna look so weird.

A split-second decision had Peter quietly scurrying to the door. How do I keep ending up in these situations? He stepped out into the hallway, catching his breath. Peter tugged his phone out of his pocket, and messaging his friend.

Hey, I'm here.

In a moment Harry was opening the door, sleep shorts the only clothing on his thin frame. He was smiling.

"Peter! I told you the door would be unlocked."

"Yeah," Peter gave a sheepish smile. "I was just nervous."

You and Peter ended up sitting together at a small table in the kitchen while Harry stayed around the stove, cooking.

"Hope you don't mind her joining us, Peter."

Peter feels a pit in his stomach surrounded by the both of you. Too many conflicting emotions swirling in the room for him.

"No problem," he waves his hand. "Only gives me more of a chance to learn about my best friend's girlfriend."

You giggle and give Harry a look only you two understand. Peter looks confused.

"What? I thought you two were... but you said...?"

"Harry and I aren't exactly dating, Peter."

God, his name sounded like heaven coming off your lips. So much so he almost didn't render what you'd said.

"Oh," was all he could allow out without sounding too excited.

"We just enjoy each other's company," you smile.

"And if one of us finds something more permanent, no one's hurt," Harry shrugs.

"Got it," Peter's heart skipped a beat.

So maybe he had a shot after all.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

After brunch you and Peter ended up on the couch, chatting while Harry cleaned the dishes. He had insisted.

Peter had a question long held in his throat. One making his heart pound, no matter the fact that it was a simple question. It was still a question to you, nonetheless.

"So," Peter rubbed his hands on his jeans. "The thing about you and Harry...." God. It was such a simple question. Why couldn't he get it out?

You looked at him, smiling. His mind went blank. Any question he had was forgot.

"What about it?"

Peter scrambled to finish his question. "Uh, do you like it? Him?"

"Most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"Yeah, it's just-" you pause yourself, finding the right words. "Because of our... arrangement, Harry only focuses on what he needs. Which, I can't complain too much, I do the same. But-" you twitch your mouth from side to side.

"But, I enjoy caring for my partner. And when my partner does the same."

Peter is taking mental notes. He nods his head, ignoring the ache in his crotch at details you give.

"Yeah, I get that."

"Right? And - I enjoy my time with Harry, but he really isn't the kind of man I prefer in bed."

Peter's heart races.

"What kind of man do you prefer?" He pushes.

"Well, Harry's very assertive. And I really like a man to let me do the work. Someone more submissive," Peter please get the hint. You pray.

"Oh." Peter, being as inexperienced as he could possibly be, was confused. He made a mental note to figure out what you were talking about.

You had known the moment you'd met Peter that he was the exact kind of man you needed. Sweet disposition seeping into every facet of him. He was everything you'd been craving for months, if not your whole life, really.

You study Peter, seeing him squirm slightly under your gaze. You scoot closer, pressing your thigh to his. Peter feels a tingle down his back at the warmth you spread to him.

You prop a hand on the back of the couch, toying with the hair at the nape of Peter's neck. He stiffens, then relaxes into your touch. "What do you think, Peter?"

He snaps from his daze. "Uh... about what?"

"Y'know... what would you prefer, with whoever you're with." God, I hope this isn't too forward.

"Oh," he's quiet. Too quiet. You wait with bated breath. "Well, I uh, actually don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know? A man's gotta know what he likes!" You smile, moving your fingers along his scalp momentarily.

"I, well," Fuck, Peter, just spit it out. But really how is he supposed to tell the woman of his dreams, best friend's girl, the most amazing person he's ever met; that he's never done anything more than kiss a woman? And it wasn't more than a peck at that.

You wait, staring at him with wide eyes. You hope he feels the same as you. About a lot of things, really. But especially this.

"I wouldn't really know. Because," he takes a breath, eyes anywhere but you. "I've never really done anything to be able to learn what I like."

You smile. Not a malicious nor mocking smile, but a genuine, heartfelt, earnest smile. "Peter," it almost sounds chastising. "You don't need to do anything with anyone else to know. You just need to know what turns you on the most."

"Hm?" Peter's lips are pressed tight as he moves his honeyed-brown eyes back to yours.

"What can you think about, or watch, that gets you off the quickest?" You let your nails lightly drag across the back of Peter's neck, watching as he shivers from your touch.

He shifts uncomfortably, feeling your eyes on him. How the hell did he get himself in this situation? Beginnings of a hard-on in his pants, your fingers dancing on his skin, and mind a mess of any thoughts other than the one he needs to be having.

Peter never really watches porn. He's heard of it, of course. He's seen the memes about the websites, screenshots of funny faces - but when he's alone with himself, he usually just closes his eyes and waits for it to be over. How does he tell a woman like you that? Without sounding like the weirdest person ever?

"I, uh... don't know..."

You huff a laugh through your nose. "Well if you ever figure it out, I'm curious to know what gets a cute boy like you off," you smile and stand, ruffing Peter's hair as you walk towards the kitchen.

'She called me cute. She wants to know what gets me off. Maybe I have way more of a shot than I thought.'

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Later that night, Peter rested against the headboard of his bed. He stared at the search bar on his phone, a familiar orange and black logo in the top corner.

Peter wracked his brain, trying to figure out what to look up to understand what you meant.

And I really like a man to let me do the work. Someone more submissive.

Peter sighs, typing 'submissive man' and holding his breath as he hits enter.

The videos the boy is left to find stir something deep in his stomach. The leashes, the ropes, the positions, the words.

It's not long before Peter's hand makes its way into his pants. He's pumping himself breathlessly, struggling to keep his phone steady. He's imagining you. You doing exactly to him what they're doing in the videos.

God, it's perverse. It's depraved and even a little bit carnal. It doesn't take long for beads of white ejaculate to roll onto Peter's hand. He trembles and whines.

Shame washes over Peter like a hot wave upon the sand. Fuck. He's so stupid. So gross. Thinking of his best friend's girlfriend like this. Peter drops his phone beside him, rubbing his face with his undefiled hand

Technically they aren't really 'together'. Says the sanguine voice in the depths of Peter's mind. But wouldn't it still be weird? Obviously not to Peter if this is how he thinks of you in his spare time.

Regarding his thoughts of you; his mind dances back to before, imagining how your lips would feel on his neck, hand around his cock, whispering sweet praises and he begs you to let him cum. He's definitely hard again.

"Fuck," he whines. Peter's hand returns to his cock, throbbing in his fist. He bites down on his shirt collar to keep from whimpering too loud and begins to fuck into his hand again. This time more forceful than the last. He's squirming under your imagined touch, shaking as his mind races to fantasize about you holding him down, having your way with him.

And there he goes again, bursting at the seams with his desire for his best friend's girl.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter finds himself over at Harry's place more frequently than before. The lie he tells is that he hates being home. Not a complete lie, but not a complete truth either. The thought at the forefront of Peter's mind: how can I spend more time around her?

And it works. You and Harry believe him, though anything that keeps Peter around you won't look into too much. Harry makes or orders food, he stops asking Peter out to parties - inferring his best friend's aversion for them.

Sometimes, late at night, you and Harry talk about him.

"So what do you think of Peter?" He'll ask.

Your hand dances on Harry's chest, swirling circles and stars. "I think he's cute," you'll admit. "He's very sweet, and shy. It's endearing."

Harry will nod his head along. "I think he likes you," said nonchalant because it is. Harry always is. "Have you noticed?"

"Do you think so?" Risking sounding too eager is an irrelevance.

"Sweetheart, if you could see the way he looks at you, you wouldn't be questioning me right now."

You smile to yourself before pausing. "Would that be weird for you? Seeing your best friend with someone you've fucked?"

He smiles down at you. "If they looked at each other the way you two do, not at all. I'd wish them the best."

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Somehow, you ended up with Peter's number. Somehow, you ended up texting him all night, every night. And somehow, neither of you minded.

Endless conversations about mindless nothings. Just getting to know each other. There were plenty of times where Peter would worry about Harry. He'd reassure himself that his best friend said he wouldn't care and either way, there was nothing going on between the two of you.

And then, you'd send a goodnight text with a kiss beside it. Or a good morning text with a pet name in it. And Peter's heart would flutter.

You often discussed school and home lives. That's how Peter found out that you attends MIT as well, and that you live in an apartment with a roommate who chews too loud but is otherwise fine. And, more importantly, how he found out that you don't spend as much time with Harry as Peter's past predicaments would make it seem.

This is how you find out Peter lives alone in a tiny apartment near the university, that he has a tendency to stress himself to death, and that he's more lonely than he seems.

Leading you to the text you'll send today.

I've heard rumors of an amazing coffee shop near your place. Wanna come with?

Sent at the perfect time for him to have just gotten home from his last class. You knew he needed a break, he was working himself too hard on one class alone.

Absolutely! Meet you there?

Peter's chest tingled and he responded. A date? No. But almost.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter made it to Mug & Meadow about four minutes before you, waiting by the door.

When you arrived, he held the door for you. Ever the gentleman.

A wave of warm air washes over you. The scent of espresso mingling with burnt vanilla. You step onto the dark wood floor, taking in your surroundings while Peter lets the door swing closed.

Dark, chocolate colored walls matching the wooden floors, except, around the counter has a black and white, diamond-tiled design. Arched windows across the front of the store. Warm lighting pieces scattered about the ceiling.

Light jazz dancing through hidden speakers, soft chatter melding with the beats. Wow. You smile and turn back to Peter, seeing him taking in the surroundings as well. He looks to you, smiling back.

After ordering, Peter tells you to find a seat while he waits on the drinks. You choose a two seated table off to the side. A window to one side and the rest of the store to the other. A nearby bookshelf calls your name.

Peter finds you with your nose off in a leather-bound collection of Robert Frost works. "This place is nice," he sets the cups down on the provided coasters.

You place the book down on the hardwood table, old wax sticking to your fingers ever-so-slightly.

"Yeah," you give your breathless response. "I love it."

"Already? But you just met it," Peter jokes.

"When you know, you know," you sip from your steaming cup. "Who says I don't believe in love at first sight?" You give Peter a knowing look.

He falters. "Uh, well, I was talking to the barista and he said this place is also a library. Which is super cool," He's redirecting.

"Really? That's awesome."

"Yeah, it's something to do with the fact that the owner is like a simi-famous author with the last name Meadow, hence the name," Peter waves a hand up, referring to the shop.

"We definitely have to come back here forever," You take another sip of your drink.

Already booking our next almost-date.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter's stomach swirled, heart beating fast. He was pacing around his living room. A small space, albeit well decorated thanks to May's input and Christmas presents from last year.

"When you have girls over, you'll thank me for helping," And here he is now, mentally thanking her.

You'd asked Peter when the three of you were hanging out at Harry's place last weekend if you could come over. Just you. No Harry this time. A simple question. 'I just wanna hang out with you," it was all you'd given as a reason and it was more than Peter needed to say yes to you.

He's started to say yes before you even explained, not needing a reason more than just seeing you. But the nerves from being alone with you had started to get to him.

Maybe I should've said no. What if she thinks im weird? Especially without the cover of Harry's coolness, Peter felt almost naked. He checked his phone as it chimed.

Google maps says I'm a block away!

Peter nearly chokes on his tongue. Shit, shit, fuck. Okay, how does everything look? There's no messes, no gross smells? Oh, god, how do I look? He ran back to the mirror in his bedroom, double checking his whole outfit.

A simple look. Jeans, sneakers, and a black hoodie layered with a red flannel over it to combat the mid-fall/early winter Massachusetts weather.

Peter brushed his dark curls into place with his fingers, tucking any loose hairs away. He cups a hand over his mouth, letting out hot breath. He brushed his not even five minutes ago, but let his anxiety get the better of him.

A knock on the door and the ding of his phone send his mind flying. Peter takes a deep breath and checks his phone as he walks to the door.

37D right? If so, I'm here!

He slips the phone into the pocket of his jeans and calms himself, reaching for the door handle. "Hey," he smiles wide, happy to see you despite his nerves.

"Hello," you smile back, nearly losing yourself in his warmth. Late November on a cloudy day indoors, and you feel you might get a sunburn. "I brought the takeout we talked about!" You shake the bag excitedly.

"Did you get the egg rolls? It's the only way I can grant you admittance into my abode, I fear."

"I have, although I'm sure you wouldn't leave a fair maiden out in the cold, would you?" You laugh.

"Never one so pretty," Peter steps to the side, guiding you into his apartment. He shuts the door behind you, offering to take your coat, hanging it on the rack beside his door.

"So what movies did you pick? Only the best I'm sure."

"What makes you say that? I could have a real shit taste in movies you know. What if I only watched the Shrek movies?"

"Oh no!" You giggle. "I gotta go."

So far, Peter feels like he's doing great. He's got you to laugh twice and the smile on your face has yet to falter.

You set the takeout on the coffee table and Peter helps you set everything up, begging you to let him do it because you're the guest. You insist on your help.

Within minutes; your laying with your legs over Peter's lap, throw blanket over your legs, plates of food in hand and the movie's starting.

"Can I know what movie this is?"

"Shh, it's starting," Peter squeezes your leg, spreading warmth throughout your body. "And no, it's a secret."

For the duration of the movie you find yourself scooting closer and closer to Peter. Eventually, both your hearts are pounding in your throats as Peter wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his side. You wrap your arm around Peter's waist.

He's trying not to breathe too quickly. Efforts fail when you bury your face in his neck, hot breath fanning across his skin. He stiffens slightly. You notice.

You glide your hand from where it rests around his waist to his thigh, rubbing lightly. Peter is trying his best to focus on the movie and definitely not the growing ache in his pants.

You nuzzle your nose below his jaw, purposely breathing against his neck again. Peter lets out a sigh, not a negative one, more so a breath he'd been keeping in. Perhaps for as long as he's known you.

Peter finds himself stretching his hips forward. More subconsciously than anything. You take the chance, heart in your throat, and slide your hand over Peter's crotch.

God, is this actually happening? Peter's mind is trying to find any way he could be misreading this. Oh, shit. You press your palm into Peter's lap.

He looks down at you, a new emotion in his eyes. You share the same look in yours. A beat of a moment passes and you're sending Peter's head reeling and you slowly move closer. Sharing breath and keeping his eyes locked with yours all the way up until you close your eyes and press your lips against his.

With a body full of confidence and a mind full of you, Peter kisses back. It's sweet and gentle like him, yet as needy and passionate as you. He hums and you melt at the sound.

You feel his bulge grow under your hand and you keep your movements soft. Earning whines from him kissed into your mouth. You hold his crotch tight and rub your thumb up and down. Peter huffs into you and pushes his hips against your hand. He's never experienced as much pleasure in his life as he has right now and yet, he finds himself nearly begging for more.

You oblige to his unspoken request and straddle his hips. The broken kiss causing a fleeting warmth between you. "And this is okay?" Your words are sincere and nearly concerned.

"Nothing has ever been more okay than this," Peter puts a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to kiss him. You both smile.

You press your hips into him, earning the cutest whimper you've ever heard in your life. You grind yourself into Peter's growing bulge and he rests his head against the back of the couch, moaning loud.

The boy in front of you looks like a dream. Face flushed, dark ochre curls a mess, lips parted as his head lay back. You use the opening to kiss at his throat, leaving marks you know won't fade anytime soon.

With each rock of your hips Peter moans louder. Having never had a man as vocal as him, you drink up all he'll offer. You have that pretty bulge of his trapped right against your hips, exactly as you want him.

Your movements are getting faster, as are Peter's moans. Whimpers only increasing your need for him.

Peter can hardly stand it. He's gripping your hips about as tight as he can, trying to hold himself back but fuck the pressure feels so good, and you look so hot right now. Your kisses are sending chills down his spine.

He pulls you to kiss him on the mouth, needy and fervent. Your mouths move in unison, an unspoken rhythm known only to the two of you.

You grab his hair and pull his head back. "Fuck," he chokes, looking down at where your grinding against him.

You feel his cock twitch inside his pants, begging to be touched, pleading to be sucked off. You switch your pace to an even tempo with hard pushes and watch as Peter's eyes darken under you.

Peter grabs your hips tighter, and goes still. He lets out a low whine. You feel his hips jolt beneath you and you pause. His face is flushed a deep rose all the way to his neck.

You stare in disbelief. Peter hides his face in your neck, holding your body close. You look beneath you, seeing a dark spot form in Peter's jeans.

"Aw, baby," you pull his face from your neck, looking him in the eyes. "Don't be embarrassed, that's so fucking hot."

It's Peter's turn to hold the look of disbelief. "Really?" Every ounce of shame draining from his body by the look on your face alone.

"Absolutely. I've never made a man cum from so little before."

Peter's sigh of relief doesn't go unnoticed. You smile and kiss his cheek, loving and kind, same as him. You quickly kiss down his neck, making way towards his pants. You slide onto your knees on the floor between Peter's legs.

He's breathing fast again. Fingers restlessly fidgeting beside him. He's not sure he believes what's happening is real. There's no way you're between his knees right now, looking at him like that.

Peter holds a breath as your fingers move to the button on his pants. His zipper deafening in the surrounding silence. You press a kiss to the wet spot in Peter's boxers, looking him directly in the eyes as you do. You feel him twitch against your lips.

There's no way...

You gently pull him out of his underwear, shock evident in your eyes when you see he's hard again, cock covered in his own cum. Peter twitches at the contact, more sensitive than ever.

"Fuck, Pete... that's so hot."

Never in his life. Never did Peter believe he'd ever experience anything like this. To be honest, he'd convinced himself he'd die a virgin. Sad, true, but a reality to him all the same.

You slowly, teasingly, stroke Peter's length and watch as his hips shake. "F-f-fuck..." You run your thumb over the tip of his cock, biting your lip with anticipation.

You can't help yourself, can't stand it any longer. You wrap your mouth around the head of Peter's dick, the taste of his cum has you rolling your eyes back into your head. Peter whines and you take him in, all you can fit.

His strangled moans fill the room as you work him up. Peter can hardly breathe, swapping between looking at the ceiling and you.

The noises from you are lewd. That alone would have Peter finishing faster than ever if not for his sheer determination to experience this pleasure for as long as he can. That said, he's still not going to last long. You can tell.

You pull off of him with a pop, watching the mixture of cum and saliva flow down his shaft.

"Fuck, that was-- you're amazing," Peter's dopey smile stretches his cheeks.

"Just wait until you're inside me, Peter."

Peter chokes at the implication. His dick twitches on his lap. An aching boner growing once more.

He watches as You begin to undress yourself, slowly, in front of him. Taunting his erection with each piece of exposed skin. Your shirt is the first to go, immediately exposing your hardened nipples.

Peter's struggling to keep himself together.

You slip your jeans down your legs, giving Peter a show with each fabric gone.

Instinctually, Peter wraps a large hand around his aching, sensitive cock. He slowly pumps himself.

You grab his wrist, grip firm. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" You're completely naked, eyes stern as they look into Peter's.

"No..."

You raise an eyebrow, silently asking.

"No, ma'am," Peter is so unbelievably turned on right now.

"Good boy," you smile, releasing his wrist and kissing his cheek.

God.

You step close to Peter, grabbing his hand. "Feel how wet I am for you," Peter feels he might faint before even touching you. He presses a finger between your folds. Fuck, you're soaked. "That's what you do to me."

He looks up at you, pleading. He nearly whispers your name. "I need you."

Those words are all you need to plant your legs on either side of his hips. You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around Peter's length. He moans. You glide his tip along your slit, soaking him in your arousal.

Peter violently grabs the arm of the couch, white-knuckling the fabric. You slide his cock inside you and you lower your hips. Moaning loud at the sensation of him filling you up. Peter's panting, staring between the two of you in disbelief.

No way this is actually happening right now. Fuck, she's so tight. So warm, so amazing...

You slowly begin to bounce on Peter's lap, loving the way his eyes and head roll back. "Fuck, Pete."

You place your hands on his shoulders, picking up a pace near intense. Your lips find his in a heated embrace. Moans slipping from both your mouths like a symphony of pleasure.

Your body squeezes around Peter's cock and he's brought to the edge all too quickly. You wrap a hand around his throat, squeezing the pulse points. He grabs your hips so tight you're sure you'll have marks left. You don't mind at all.

"God, you're so good. So, fucking, good. Please... don't stop," he's panting, out of breath and dizzy from pleasure. Peter never believed this would be his first time. Not with you. Not like this. Not this amazing. It's the most euphoric sensation he's ever felt in his whole life.

"I want you to cum inside me, Pete, please," your voice is pleading, needy.

"But--"

"--I'm on the pill. Peter. Please. Cum inside me."

Never needing to be told more than twice; Peter pulls your hips down against his own, holding you hard against him. He cums deep inside you, shaky whine echoing throughout the apartment.

He rests his head against your chest, huffing. You tangle your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. He kisses between your breasts, slowly moving to your neck. "Fuck, you're amazing," Peter pants between kisses to your hot skin.

You hum, kissing the top of his head. "I take it you enjoyed your first time?"

Peter's head snaps back up to you. "How did you--"

"--Peter..." Please don't make me tell you how obvious it is. He turns red, hiding his face in your neck.

"God, that's so embarrassing."

"Not at all, it's actually really hot."

"Really?" His eyes shine beneath you.

"I've always wanted to be someone's first. And the fact that it was you, Peter...."

Peter kisses at your chest again, moving to leave matching marks to his own on your neck. You let out a small, yet heavenly, moan. When he feels the way your body squeezes around his, he whines and presses an embarrassed face into your neck. His arms wrapping tightly around you.

You feel him harden inside you, gasping. "Peter."

This is going to be an amazingly long night.

i will most definitely be reusing that coffee shop description in future fics - i love it!

very proud of this one - please remember likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs mean the most <3