#part of the point of x reader fics is to imagine one's self in them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foreverdolly · 1 year ago

Text

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 4.5k

← previous chapter | next chapter →

Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good-

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed.

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things.

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics.

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered.

“Do all women take this long to get ready?”

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf.

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring.

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous.

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms.

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited.

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have.

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction.

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away.

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth.

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm.

You waited. And waited. And waited.

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand.

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far.

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket.

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack.

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm.

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce.

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement.

“No.”

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.”

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest.

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . . spineless.”

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he.

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him.

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you.

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred.

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice.

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together.

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . .

Aimed at his throat.

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him.

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. . . the natural musk of his skin.

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin.

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it.

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own.

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in.

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you.

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole.

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with.

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain.

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it.

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft.

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair.

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire.

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood.

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now.

“I wanted to.” You conceded.

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused.

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone.

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably.

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land.

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now.

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you.

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you.

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now.

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating.

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped.

“Atreides.”

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized.

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . .

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger.

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier.

He had been trying to warn you.

← previous chapter | next chapter →

ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

6K notes · View notes

bueckersbitch · 2 months ago

Text

i'm still waitin' at the green light. to tell you what i feel like, but i can't go.

greenlight - paige bueckers x reader

☆ warnings : angst, sexual context, toxic!paige

☆ word count : 1.7k

☆ authors note : hi guys! a quick fic bc i loveeee tates new album, the last bit is inspired by her explaination of green light! part two out now!

☆ taglist : @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @rosemariiaa @xxloveralways14 @lovegalor333 @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt @bueckersfive @vamptizm

The door knob slowly pushes down, almost mocking the way your heart dropped when receiving the text, “I’ve been thinking, we need to talk.” The message wasn’t unexpected; in fact, you had been counting on receiving it after the last couple of weeks between you and Paige. Part of you still wanted it to be your overthinking getting the best of you again, a figment of your imagination trying to self-sabotage you, yet, it was something deeper: the way Paige’s demeanor changed in what felt like an instant, her loving, comforting words turning quickly into scowls of defense when you confronted her about her passive attitude towards your feelings. The doorknob seems to lag, separating the relationship between you two into two: before the conversation that was about to change your relationship, and after.

Her face is revealed after a moment; her normally perfect, slick-back bun is disheveled a bit; however, her face was numb, lacking any emotion. Her sock-clad feet slowly shuffled back when opening the door, silently urging you to step into her apartment, the one you had helped decorate when she had moved to Dallas. Your eyes flicker up to meet her cold, blue ones; her lips become tightly bound, letting out a sigh. You pick at your hangnails that had accumulated unwillingly after your thoughts about everything concerning you two swarmed your mind over the past couple of nights. You step inside, noticing the lack of the feeling of home: candles remaining unlit, tv that usually had a game on left dark, and the vase that rests on the center of her kitchen island, but instead of having purple irises gifted by you—Paige’s favorite flowers—it was clear, water even being drained since the last time you had given them to the blonde, when you were both happy.

Paige doesn’t say a word, picking up the tv remote and turning on a game. Crashing to the couch, her fixed stare on the tv felt like a punch to the gut. Paige was good at communicating, something you admired even in the early stages of your relationship. The lump in your throat started to grow. Had she changed so much to the point she felt like she couldn’t tell you what she was feeling? “Are you serious?” You questioned, voice shaking a bit. Paige hummed in response, eyes still glued to the tv, making you feel like an afterthought, unimportant. “I didn’t drive half an hour for you to not tell me what you want.” You said, leaning on the kitchen island, tears starting to well now. “I thought it was obvious. We aren’t working, baby.” A tear fell from your eye now, taking your makeup with it to your neck. You knew that, you knew something wasn’t working, but what shocked you was Paige’s lack of effort to try and fix what was wrong. “Tell me what’s not working then, because I feel like recently whenever I try to get to you, what you’re thinking, you feel like I’m a nuisance.” It was different. You leading the conversation about talking about feelings, emotions were something you encouraged yourself to suppress. “I don’t wanna tell you though.” Paige says, resting her elbows on her knees as she turns her head with minimal effort to look at you. Confusion jolts through you, apparently evident on your face through your eyebrows and slight stutter of the start of a sentence beginning with “W-w-wha-” Paige rolls her eyes, cutting you off with, “Don’t you get it? I’m tired. I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t think I wanna fix us.” Your heart really drops, feeling heavy with the weight of her words shutting you down. “Do you hear yourself? Did the past four years mean nothing to you?” Paige scoffs, nodding her head as it dips between her shoulders, “You know it did. I just feel like I’ve grown. I’m not the injured girl you met in sophomore year anymore.” The mention of how you met tugging at your heart strings.

Four years ago

The lecture to your psychology class had finally ended, meaning it was time for a nice Friday out with your girls. You gathered your stuff, placing your iPad in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Pulling your phone out, you start scrolling through the notifications of ideas for what you guys should do tonight. You walk through the tiled hall, a little too quickly it seems, because you brush past someone, hearing them grunt in annoyance. You whip your head around, to a tall blonde. You had heard about her injury, watched it happen even, how she was projected to be out for six to eight weeks. Her words sliced through your thoughts, “I miss when I could walk mindlessly.” Your eyes widened, baffled at your ignorance to your surroundings. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry-” Paige laughs. “I’m just teasing you. What’s got you rushing to get back though?” You let out an exhale of relief, smiling while telling the girl your plans for the night. Conversation ending with you carrying her stuff for her while walking her back to her apartment. Impulsive thoughts overcoming you, word vomit producing a, “You should totally come!”

Present

“Trust me, I know,” you manage to say through a facade. Paige’s brows furrow now. “What’s that ‘supposed to mean?” You exhale, similarly to how you had all those years ago, but this time, it was to brace yourself for what you were about to say. “I mean the Paige I knew back then, fuck, even a month ago, wouldn’t push aside my feelings like it’s something that’s optional in her life!” She leans back again, seemingly unphased by your confession. “I’m not about to pour my heart into something you don’t deserve.” Your mind was clouded now, something you didn’t deserve? If there was the bare minimum of what you deserved, it was an explanation, a reason why your soulmate had turned into someone that looked at you like a burden. “I’m just standing here trying to understand what you want from me, because I’ve tried, Paige, I really have, but it’s obvious that you think I don’t deserve a basic explanation as to why you’ve just shut me out.” You try to reason with her, not ready to accept the truth of what could happen. “I don’t want anything anymore. I don’t know why I gotta spell that shit out for you.” There it was, the admission that had you in a grasp of anxiousness. “So what?” Still finding it hard to accept that your loving, communicative Paige was acting this way, “So, it’s done.”

Her words rang through your head like a stupid song you couldn’t get out of your head. Your keys gripped so hard in your hand they started to leave indents. Your hood was pulled up over your head, trying to avoid the receptionist that would greet you after the long journey of the elevator, plummeting like your heart had. You push through the revolving door, out into the soft water of the rain, almost like the universe was sad for you. Flinging yourself into your car, you start to drive back to your apartment in silence. You roll to a stop at a red light, finally letting yourself break down in the comfort of your own car.

Three months later

The delicate notification rang through your ears again, light turning green as you pushed on the gas. It had chimed a couple of times now, a specific notification sound you had only reserved for a certain blonde. You forgot you even did that, changing the setting when you were so young and lovestruck. Sure, the sound surprised you a week ago when you heard it for the first time in three months, but now? It was almost background noise to your daily tasks. She tried to work her way back, endless texts and voicemails that had her saying “I fucked up” and “Please talk to me, ma” and other things of the sorts. You would’ve gone running straight into her arms had it not been for what you found out. Another girl. One she felt so taken aback by that she felt the need to shut you out, to break up with you. You wanted to make sure she lived with the consequence of losing you. So now, you were on your way out to a restaurant, your therapist encouraging you to get back out into the dating scene again. Skylar, was her name.

You sat across from the brunette girl, smiling with her as you both talked about your families. It felt nice, feeling like your presence was wanted. A voice rang through your ears, one that was too familiar, one that you had heard every day straight for four years. There she was, talking and laughing with her Wings teammates as she looked over the menu.

You broke. Something about having such a deep history with her coaxing you back to her, pressed up against the very door you had slammed shut in anger a few months ago. Her hands gripping your waist as she confessed how her admiration for you had never left, “Missed you so bad, you’re the only one for me.” Hands trailing past your waistband, finding the pool of arousal that awaited her.

She sweetly talked you back into her bed, but even after pulling three orgasms from you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of what you had found out she had been hiding from you. So, you found your clothes, taking in the way her wavy blonde hair framed her sleeping face, before slipping away in the middle of the night, attempting to avoid the start of a toxic back and forth.

One week later

The post sat unliked in your feed, taking a second to take it in. Paige’s new girlfriend. The girl she left you for, the one she was still seeing a week ago when she was fucking you.

You were shielding your phone from Skylar. Of course, you tried to move on, but a part of you still believed you would get her back, your Paige back. It was wrong, and everyone around you told you to move on. Paige sure had. “Babe?” You quickly locked your phone, looking at your date in the passenger seat of your car. “You were so invested in your phone that you fully sat through that entire green light.” She laughed. You forced a fake laugh, suppressing the solemn feeling that the universe was mocking you through the situation. You sitting still at a green light, while the light is telling you it’s okay to go, is like everybody around you saying it’s okay to move on from Paige, but it still feels impossible.

#alira’s works ⟡˖ ࣪⋆⭒˚#bueckersbitch #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconnwbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers angst #Spotify

615 notes · View notes

aceyalonso · 5 months ago

Text

god forbid - OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing: altar server!oscar piastri x pastors daughter!reader

summary : the indulgence in sin wasn't new to y/n, it never has been- but to oscar? he was as pure and innocent as a doe, the thought of sinning never even crossing his mind. but then again, everyone has to sin at one point, right?

warnings/notes : swearing, homoerotic tendencies between alexandra and rebecca, mentions of drinking, smut, sacrilegious themes, unspecified branch of Christianity, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!!), corruption, masturbation, improper use of hairbrush handle (iykwim), praise kink, use of "good boy", oral (m!receiving), edging, overstimulation, manipulation (if you squint)

word count : 18.1k

a/n : a very long and self indulgent fic HAHAHAH (please let me know if i missed any warnings, i lost count while writing)

main masterlist | 1k masterlist | taglist form

Y/n took a deep breath, steadying herself before stepping up to the altar. The church was filled with the familiar faces of her congregation, including her best friend Alexandra who had just finished delivering the first reading. Y/n smoothed her skirt and adjusted the microphone, her eyes scanning the pews until they landed on her father, the pastor, watching her intently from his seat.

She cleared her throat and began, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him."

As Y/n continued to read, her mind began to wander despite her best efforts to focus. Thoughts of her secret rebellious side crept in unbidden - the parties she snuck out to on the weekends, the alcohol she experimented with, the boys she flirted with behind her father's back. A thrill ran through her at the riskiness of it all, even as a twinge of guilt pricked at her conscience.

Y/n's eyes met Oscar's as she continued reading, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them. She quickly averted her gaze, focusing intently on the words in front of her. Oscar, with his innocent eyes and pure heart, was everything Y/n wasn't. He never drank, never smoked, never even looked at a girl the wrong way. Her father adored him, always going on about what a fine young man he was, how he might even make a good pastor someday.

God, Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. She knew she should be happy for Oscar, proud of his devotion and goodness. But instead, it made her feel even more like a fraud. Like she was just playing a part, pretending to be the perfect pastor's daughter while hiding her true, sinful self.

She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple as she struggled to concentrate on the reading. Her eyes darted to Alexandra, who sat primly in the pew, the picture of innocence. But Y/n knew better. She knew about the wild parties they attended together, the boys they flirted with and sometimes took home. The way they would pass a guy back and forth, tossing him aside when they grew bored.

It was thrilling and exhilarating, a rush of power and control that Y/n craved. But here, in the church, surrounded by the pious faces of her congregation, it felt dirty. Shameful. She imagined what her father would think if he knew the truth about his precious daughter, and a wave of nausea washed over her.

Y/n swallowed hard and forced herself to focus on the words in front of her. She couldn't let anyone see the turmoil raging inside her. She had to keep up appearances, no matter the cost. Even if it meant burying her true self deeper and deeper until she hardly recognized who she was anymore.

She hurried through the final verse, her voice wavering slightly as she rushed to finish. "But each one is tempted when he is drawn away and enticed by his own evil desires. Then when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and when sin is accomplished, it brings forth death."

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, a stark reminder of her own hypocrisy. Y/n stepped back from the lectern, her legs shaky beneath her. She glanced at her father, hoping he hadn't noticed her momentary lapse. But his eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene and untroubled.

As Y/n made her way back to her seat, she caught Oscar's eye once more. He gave her a small, encouraging smile, his faith in her unwavering. Y/n felt a pang of guilt, knowing she didn't deserve his trust. She slid into the pew beside Alexandra, who leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Nice job, girl. You almost had me worried there for a second." Alexandra giggled, her breath hot against Y/n's cheek.

Y/n leaned in close to Alexandra, her lips brushing against her friend's ear as she whispered, "Why the fuck is this the Bible verse chosen for today? It's making me feel so guilty."

Alexandra smirked, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "You didn't feel guilty making out with that guy last night," she purred, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Or when you downed like, five shots in a row. Live a little, Y/n. God knows you deserve to let loose sometimes."

Y/n bit her lip, torn between her desire for freedom and the crushing weight of expectation. She knew Alexandra was right - she had spent the night before tangled in a stranger's arms, lost in a haze of alcohol and lust. But here, in the sanctity of the church, it all felt so wrong.

They turned their attention to the altar, watching as the altar servers busied themselves with the communion preparations. Oscar was among them, his movements precise and reverent.

Alexandra leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "So, did you even remember that guy's name? The one you were making out with last night?"

Y/n furrowed her brow, trying to recall the hazy details of the previous evening. "It started with an F, I think. Frank? Franco?" She shrugged, the names blurring together in her mind.

Alexandra giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "Typical Y/n. Always leaving a trail of broken hearts and empty beds wherever you go."

Y/n poked Alexandra in the side, eliciting a small "ow" from her friend. "Hey, don't forget, you aren't that innocent either, you know," she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I saw you making out with Rebecca last night."

Rebecca was a member of their church choir, known for her sweet voice and demure demeanor. The thought of her locked in a passionate embrace with Alexandra sent a thrill down Y/n's spine.

Alexandra shrugged, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Rebecca just wanted to try on my new lip gloss. You know how curious she is about makeup."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Sure, and I'm sure that's all it was. Just two innocent girls experimenting with cosmetics."

The two girls stood to join the congregation in singing the hymn. As the familiar melody filled the air, Y/n noticed Alexandra's gaze locking with Rebecca's across the church. The two exchanged heated looks, a silent conversation passing between them that spoke volumes.

Y/n leaned in close to Alexandra, her breath tickling her friend's ear. "Save the eye-fucking for outside of church, will you?" she whispered, a playful edge to her tone.

Alexandra shot Y/n a quick, apologetic smile before turning her attention back to the hymnal. But her eyes kept straying to Rebecca, a flush creeping up her neck.

As the hymn continued, Y/n found her own gaze drifting towards Oscar. She couldn't help it. There was something about him, something pure and untainted that drew her in like a moth to a flame.

Maybe it was the way her father spoke so highly of him, always going on about what a fine young man he was. Or maybe it was the way Oscar's innocence seemed to shine through in every action, every gesture. An innocence that Y/n suddenly found herself wanting to corrupt.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. What was she thinking? Oscar was off-limits. He was practically family, for God's sake. And yet, the more she tried to push the idea away, the more it took root in her mind.

Y/n bit her lip, her heart racing as she watched Oscar from beneath her lashes. What would it be like, she wondered, to be the one to introduce him to the pleasures of the flesh? To watch that innocent face contort in ecstasy as she guided him through his first forbidden experiences?

She continued to sing along halfheartedly, her mind wandering as she imagined how Oscar would sound. Would he moan her name softly, breathlessly? Or would he cry out in ecstasy, his voice echoing off the church walls? She pictured him flushed and panting, his body glistening with sweat as he reached his peak.

The vivid fantasy caused a shiver to run down Y/n's spine, and she had to bite back a moan of her own. She was so lost in her lustful thoughts that she barely registered her father's voice booming through the church, calling the congregation to sit down.

Y/n settled into her seat, her eyes immediately seeking out Oscar. He was standing near the altar, his posture straight and attentive as he listened to her father begin the sermon. She shifted uncomfortably, her thighs rubbing together as she tried to ignore the growing ache between her legs.

"Calm down," Alexandra hissed, giving Y/n a pointed look. "Your dad's starting his sermon."

Y/n nodded, trying to focus on her father's words even as her mind raced with thoughts of Oscar.

"Temptation is a powerful force," her father intoned, his voice ringing out through the church. "It can lead us astray, cause us to stumble and fall. But we must resist, my children. We must hold fast to our faith, even in the face of the greatest temptations."

Y/n squirmed in her seat, her father's words hitting a little too close to home. She knew she should be paying attention, should be taking his message to heart. But all she could think about was the way Oscar's lips might feel against her skin, the way his hands might explore her body.

"Temptation comes in many forms," her father continued, his voice booming through the church. "It can be the lure of wealth, the promise of power, or the allure of the flesh. But we must be vigilant, my children. We must guard our hearts and our minds against the wiles of the devil."

Y/n reached into her small purse, fishing out a piece of candy she always kept on hand for long sermons. She and Alexandra often found their blood sugar dropping during the lengthy services, making it hard to concentrate on her father's words.

She unwrapped the candy slowly, trying to be discreet as she popped it into her mouth. The sweet flavor burst on her tongue, giving her a much-needed boost of energy. But even as she focused on the sermon, her mind kept wandering back to Oscar.

"Temptation can come from the most unexpected places," her father said, his voice rising with passion. "Even those we trust, those we love, can lead us astray if we are not careful. We must be on guard at all times, my children. We must be ready to resist temptation whenever it rears its ugly head."

Y/n shifted in her seat, her thighs clenching together as she tried to ignore the throbbing between her legs. She knew her father was right. Temptation could come from anywhere, even from someone as innocent and pure as Oscar. But that didn't make it any easier to resist.

She felt a jolt of electricity run through her as her father mentioned her name and the Bible verse she had read earlier. She glanced over at Oscar, catching his eye. He smiled at her, his expression warm and friendly, but Y/n couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if that smile was directed at her in a more intimate setting.

"My daughter Y/n read from the book of James earlier," her father continued, his voice ringing out through the church. "She spoke of the dangers of temptation, of how it can lead us astray if we are not careful. Let us all take heed of her words, my children. Let us all strive to resist the temptations that may come our way."

Y/n squirmed in her seat, her mind racing with forbidden thoughts. If anything, hearing her father speak about temptation only made it easier for her to imagine giving in to her desires with Oscar. She pictured him bending her over the altar, his hands roaming her body as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

She found herself zoning out, her foot bouncing restlessly on the floor as she struggled to focus on her father's sermon. She couldn't shake the feeling that Oscar was staring at her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was as if he could read her mind, as if he knew exactly what kind of filthy thoughts were running through her head.

But instead of disgust or judgment, Y/n saw a flicker of something else in Oscar's eyes. Something that looked suspiciously like desire. Could it be that he wanted her too? That he was just as tempted by her as she was by him?

The thought sent a thrill of excitement through Y/n's body, even as a small voice in the back of her mind warned her to be careful. She knew she was playing with fire, entertaining such forbidden fantasies. But the temptation was just too strong to resist.

Y/n tore her gaze away from Oscar, closing her eyes as she tried to regain her composure. She could feel Alexandra's concerned gaze boring into her, and she knew she needed to say something to appease her friend.

"I have a stomachache," Y/n mumbled, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. She knew damn well that it was everything but a stomachache that was causing her distress. It was the throbbing ache between her legs, the desperate need for release that consumed her thoughts.

Alexandra frowned, leaning in closer to whisper in Y/n's ear. "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're about to pass out."

Y/n forced a weak smile, nodding her head. "I'll be fine. Just need some fresh air."

She stood abruptly, ignoring the surprised looks from those around her as she made her way towards the exit. She needed to get out of there and clear her head before she did something she would regret. But even as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Oscar's eyes were still on her.

Y/n slipped out into the garden near the chapel, desperate for some fresh air and a moment to collect herself. She could still hear her father's voice droning on from inside, his words washing over her in a distant, muffled blur.

She sank down onto a nearby bench, her head spinning as she tried to catch her breath. The scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass filled her nostrils, but even that couldn't distract her from the persistent ache between her legs.

Y/n tuned back in to the sermon every now and then, her father's voice rising and falling as he spoke of the dangers of temptation. But his words seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears.

She felt lightheaded, dizzy with a heady mix of shame and desire. She knew she shouldn't be having these thoughts, especially not about Oscar. But she couldn't help it. The temptation was just too strong to resist.

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she sat alone in the garden. The rest of the Mass passed by in a blur, her father's voice fading into the background as she struggled to calm her racing thoughts.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the gentle breeze that rustled through the leaves overhead. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine filled her nostrils, a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

But even as she tried to find peace in the tranquil surroundings, Y/n couldn't shake the image of Oscar from her mind. His innocent face, his kind eyes, the way his lips curved into that perfect smile. It was enough to drive her mad with desire.

Y/n shifted on the bench, her thighs clenching together as she fought the urge to touch herself right then and there. She knew it was wrong, knew that she was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed.

As the Mass ended, Y/n heard footsteps approaching behind her. She turned to see her father, still dressed in his pastoral attire, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Y/n, are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry. "I saw you slip out during the sermon. Is everything okay?"

Y/n forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil raging inside her. "I'm fine, Dad. It was just really hot in there, and I wasn't feeling too well. Stomachache."

Her father nodded, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Well, if you're not feeling better, why don't you head home and rest? I can finish up here."

Y/n shook her head, determined to stay and make amends for her absence during the sermon. "No, I'm okay. I just need to pray the rosary, to make up for the time I missed."

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Alright, but if you start feeling worse, don't hesitate to come home and rest. Alexandra has your purse, so you can swing by their place to pick it up on your way."

Y/n thanked her father, watching as he turned to greet the other parishioners. She knew she should head inside and pray, should try to cleanse her mind of the impure thoughts that plagued her. But as she stood up from the bench, she couldn't help but glance towards the church, wondering if Oscar was still inside.

With a sigh, Y/n made her way toward the church entrance, steeling herself for the battle ahead. She knew it wouldn't be easy to resist temptation, especially with Oscar so close by. But she had to try, had to prove to herself and to God that she was stronger than her baser instincts.

Y/n made her way to the front pew, the chapel eerily quiet save for the occasional chirp of a bird that had snuck in through the open windows. She knelt down on the cushioned kneeler, the cool stone of the church floor pressing against her knees.

She began to pray the rosary, her fingers moving mechanically over the beads as she recited the familiar prayers. But even as she tried to focus on the words, her mind kept wandering, her thoughts straying to Oscar.

She pictured him kneeling in front of her, his head buried between her thighs as he devoured her with his mouth. She could almost feel his tongue lapping at her most sensitive parts, could almost hear the sounds of his pleasure as he discovered the taste of her.

Y/n bit her lip, stifling a moan as the fantasy played out in her mind. She knew it was wrong, knew that she was defiling the sacred space with her impure thoughts. But she couldn't stop, couldn't tear her mind away from the image of Oscar worshipping her body like it was the Holy Grail.

Y/n prayed harder, her whispers turning into full-voiced recitations as she tried to drown out the sinful images flooding her mind. But it was no use. The more she tried to focus on her prayers, the more vivid the fantasies became.

In her mind's eye, she saw herself and Oscar tangled together in the bell tower, their bodies moving in a frenzied rhythm as the church bells tolled overhead. She imagined him bending her over the altar, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her again and again.

And then there was the confession booth, the small, dark space where sins were laid bare. In Y/n's twisted imagination, she was on her knees, her mouth wrapped around Oscar's hard length as he groaned in pleasure.

The images were so real, so vivid, that Y/n could almost feel the phantom sensations on her skin. She squirmed on the kneeler, her thighs clenching together as she fought the urge to touch herself right then and there.

Tears began to well up in Y/n's eyes as the guilt of her lustful thoughts threatened to overwhelm her. She had never felt so ashamed, so dirty, so utterly consumed by a sin that she knew was wrong on every level.

But even as the tears spilled down her cheeks, Y/n couldn't deny the truth of her desires. She wanted Oscar, craved him with every fiber of her being. The thought of his hands on her body, his lips against her skin, was enough to drive her mad with need.

Y/n bowed her head, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she tried to pray for forgiveness. But the words caught in her throat, choked off by the intensity of her longing.

She knew she was damned, knew that she was straying further and further from the path of righteousness with every passing moment. But she couldn't seem to stop, couldn't seem to find the strength to resist the temptation that called to her so loudly.

As Y/n finished her prayers, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying to compose herself. But just as she was about to stand up and leave, she heard a noise coming from behind the altar.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she peered around the edge of the altar cloth to see what was going on. There, in the dim light of the sacristy, she saw Oscar emerging from the changing room.

He was in the process of taking off his robe, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his toned abs. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, her eyes tracing the path of his happy trail as it disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

Oscar seemed oblivious to her presence, humming softly to himself as he hung up his robe and adjusted his shirt. Y/n felt like she should look away, should give him some privacy. But she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from his body, mesmerized by the sight of him.

He emerged from the sacristy, his eyes lighting up when he spotted Y/n kneeling in the front pew. "Hello Y/n!" he greeted her warmly, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Are you okay? I saw you walk out during the sermon earlier. Everything alright?"

She quickly wiped away any remaining tears, trying to compose herself. "Y-yes, I'm fine," she stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught off guard. "I just needed some fresh air, that's all."

Oscar nodded understandingly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned to gather his things. Y/n's eyes couldn't help but trace the contours of his body as he moved, the way his shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the way his pants clung to his muscular thighs.

She felt a familiar heat building between her legs, a desperate ache that demanded to be satisfied. It took every ounce of willpower for Y/n to tear her eyes away from Oscar's form, to focus instead on the crucifix hanging above the altar.

Oscar gathered his things, glancing over at Y/n with a curious expression. "What are you still doing here, by the way?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "I've been cleaning in the back for about thirty minutes now. Shouldn't you be at home resting by this point?"

Y/n felt a pang of guilt at his words, realizing just how long she had been sitting there, lost in her own twisted fantasies. "I...I was just praying," she mumbled, her eyes downcast. "Trying to make up for leaving the sermon early."

He nodded, his smile softening into a look of understanding. "I get it. Sometimes we all need a little extra time with God." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "But don't forget to take care of yourself too, Y/n. God wants us to be healthy and happy, not run ourselves into the ground."

Y/n smiled at Oscar, grateful for his concern. "Thank you, Oscar. That means a lot." She stood up from the pew, smoothing out her skirt as she prepared to leave.

"I should probably head over to Alexandra's to pick up my purse," she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "I'll see you around?"

Oscar nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he returned her smile. "Sounds good, Y/n. Take care of yourself, and I'll see you soon."

Y/n turned to leave, her heart pounding in her chest as she walked down the aisle of the empty church. She could still feel Oscar's gaze on her back, could still picture the way his shirt had ridden up to reveal his toned abs.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the images from her mind. She had to focus, had to get to Alexandra's house, and retrieve her purse before her thoughts spiraled out of control again.

Y/n made her way to Alexandra's house, the short walk doing little to clear her head. As she approached the front door, she heard the unmistakable sound of giggling coming from upstairs. Curious, she crept up the stairs, following the noise to Alexandra's bedroom.

Peeking through the crack in the door, Y/n's eyes widened at the sight before her. There, on Alexandra's bed, were Alex and Rebecca, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Y/n knocked on the door, a teasing lilt to her voice as she called out, "Excuse me, guys, but I need to know where my purse is?"

Alexandra jumped, breaking away from Rebecca with a startled yelp. "Y/n!" she exclaimed, her face flushing a deep red. "I...um...your purse is on the dresser."

Y/n laughed, pushing open the door fully. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just figured you might need a reminder that you brought my purse with you."

Rebecca laughed, waving hello to Y/n. "Hey there!"

Alexandra turned to Y/n, her expression softening with concern. "Why did you leave the service early? Are you feeling okay?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "I just needed some air, that's all. It was getting a bit stuffy in there."

Alexandra nodded, but her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Y/n's appearance. "Are you sure that's all? You look a little...flushed."

Y/n laughed, gesturing to the scene before her. "Oh please, look who's talking. You're the one kneeling on the bed beside Rebecca like you're all innocent."

Alexandra's blush deepened, but she grinned sheepishly. "Guilty as charged. But hey, you caught us. Might as well join in, right?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile. "I'll pass, thanks. You two have fun, though. I'll let myself out and lock the front door on my way."

"Okay, your loss," Alexandra said with a shrug, a mischievous glint in her eye. Before Y/n could even respond, Alexandra leaned back down and captured Rebecca's lips in a kiss yet again.

As she made her way back to her own house, Y/n's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, she was disgusted with herself for indulging in such sinful thoughts. But on the other hand, she couldn't deny the intense arousal that coursed through her veins, the desperate need to be touched and desired.

By the time she reached her front door, Y/n was practically panting with desire. She fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Once she was alone, Y/n leaned against the wall, her eyes fluttering closed as she tried to catch her breath. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

Y/n walked over to the fridge, her mind still reeling from the erotic scene she had just witnessed. She reached for the handle, intending to grab a cold drink to cool herself down, when something caught her eye.

There, stuck to the fridge with a magnet, was a note from her father. "Sorry sweetheart, I won't be back till Wednesday," it read. "I just got a call - there's an emergency meeting for all the pastors in the city. Text me if you finish reading this."

Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath. With her father gone, there would be no one to keep her in check, no one to stop her from indulging in her darkest desires.

Her mind immediately wandered back to Oscar, to the way his shirt had ridden up to reveal his toned abs, to the tantalizing glimpse of his happy trail. Y/n bit her lip, her body aching with need.

Y/n quickly pulled out her phone and texted her father, letting him know she was home safe. Once that was done, she headed to her room, her mind already racing with thoughts of Oscar.

Inside her bedroom, Y/n stripped off her church clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the floor. She rummaged through her drawers until she found a pair of soft, worn-in shorts and a loose tank top. The clothes were comfortable, but they also left little to the imagination, hugging her curves in all the right places.

As she changed, Y/n couldn't help but imagine Oscar's reaction if he saw her like this. Would his eyes darken with desire? Would he reach out and touch her, his hands exploring every inch of her body?

Y/n shivered at the thought, her nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of her top. She knew she should stop these thoughts, should focus on something else. But it was too late. The seed had been planted, and now all she could think about was Oscar, and the way he made her feel.

She laid back on her bed, her gaze drifting over the photos that adorned her walls. There were pictures of her and her father, smiling and laughing together at various events and outings. There were photos of her and Alexandra, capturing their close friendship over the years. Scattered among them were snapshots from her childhood, reminding her of simpler times.

But even as she looked at these cherished memories, Y/n's mind kept drifting back to Oscar. She couldn't shake the image of him from her head, couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at her in the church, the way his presence had made her feel.

Y/n sat up suddenly, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what she had to do. She couldn't fight this attraction anymore, couldn't deny the desire that burned within her.

Y/n locked her bedroom door, the click of the lock echoing in the silence of the house. She sat down on her bed, her heart racing as she debated with herself.

She had touched herself before, of course. It was a natural part of growing up, of exploring her own body and desires. But this time felt different. This time, the object of her fantasies was someone so pure, so innocent.

Oscar was a man of God, a symbol of everything that was good and holy in the world. And yet, here she was, imagining him in the most sinful of ways.

Y/n's hand drifted down to the waistband of her shorts, hesitating for a moment before slipping beneath the fabric. She could feel the heat of her own arousal, the slick wetness that coated her fingers.

She closed her eyes, picturing Oscar's face as she began to stroke herself. In her mind, he was kneeling before her, his hands caressing her thighs as he worshipped her body with his mouth.

Y/n's fingers dipped in and out of her slick folds, barely breaching the entrance to her aching core. She was teasing herself, drawing out the pleasure as she lost herself in her fantasies.

In her mind, Oscar's inexperienced tongue was exploring her most intimate places, his soft lips and gentle touches driving her wild with desire. She imagined herself guiding his head, praising him for doing such a good job, for making her feel so incredibly good.

And then, in her fantasy, Oscar looked up at her with those innocent eyes, his voice barely above a whisper as he asked, "Am I doing it correctly, Y/n? Is this what you want?"

Y/n's hips bucked at the thought, a soft moan escaping her lips as she plunged her fingers deeper into her dripping sex. All it would take was a few more strokes, a few more whispered words of encouragement from her imaginary Oscar.

In Y/n's vivid imagination, her hand wrapped around Oscar's throbbing cock, stroking him with a slow, sensual rhythm. She could feel how sensitive he was, how every touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

As she worked him closer and closer to the edge, Oscar began to buck his hips, thrusting into her hand with desperate need. Soft whimpers escaped his lips, his breath hot against her skin as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Y/n held his hand tightly, her fingers intertwined with his as she brought him to the brink of ecstasy. She could feel his heart racing, could sense the intensity of his desire as he clung to her, his body trembling with the force of his impending release.

With a final, firm stroke, Y/n pushed Oscar over the edge, his cock pulsing in her hand as he came with a low, guttural moan. She held him close, whispering words of comfort and encouragement as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, his cum spilling over her fingers in hot, sticky ropes.

Y/n's fantasy had brought her to the brink of orgasm, but it wasn't quite enough to push her over the edge. She stopped, her pussy pulsing with neediness as she took a moment to catch her breath.

After a few seconds, Y/n reached for her hairbrush, a makeshift dildo she had been using for months out of necessity. She couldn't risk her father finding a real sex toy in her possession, so she had learned to make do with whatever she could find.

The handle of the brush was smooth and hard, the perfect size to fill her aching void. Y/n slipped it inside her, a gasp escaping her lips as it stretched her tight walls.

She began to thrust the brush in and out of her dripping sex, her hips rocking in time with the movements of her hand. In her mind, it was Oscar's cock that was filling her, his strong hands gripping her hips as he pounded into her with wild abandon.

As Y/n continued to fuck herself with the hairbrush handle, her mind was flooded with the same forbidden fantasies that had troubled her as she recited the rosary. She pictured herself bent over the altar, her dress hiked up around her waist as Oscar took her from behind. She imagined the cool marble against her skin, the weight of his body pressing her down as he claimed her with his cock.

In another scenario, she saw herself in the bell tower, the heavy ropes of the bells swaying above her as Oscar lifted her onto his lap. She could feel the rough wood of the floorboards digging into her knees as she rode him, her hands gripping his shoulders for support.

But it was the confession booth that really set her imagination ablaze. She pictured herself on her knees, her head hidden behind the screen as Oscar stood before her, his cock hard and ready. She would take him into her mouth, her lips stretched wide around his girth as she worshipped him with her tongue.

Y/n knew that every corner of the chapel was adorned with images and symbols of God - crucifixes, paintings of Jesus, statues of angels and saints. But as she fucked herself with the hairbrush handle, lost in her forbidden fantasies, she couldn't bring herself to care.

The thought of God watching her, of Him bearing witness to her sinful desires, only heightened her arousal. She could almost feel His disapproving gaze upon her, could imagine the shame and guilt that would surely follow if she ever acted on her fantasies and gave in to lust with Oscar.

But fuck, it felt so good. The taboo nature of it all, the knowledge that she was defiling a sacred space with her carnal thoughts, only served to drive her closer and closer to the edge.

Y/n's hips moved faster, the hairbrush handle slamming into her G-spot with each thrust. Her moans grew louder, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she chased her rapidly approaching orgasm.

As Y/n's orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing with the force of her release, she cried out in ecstasy. "God, fuck! Fuck, fuck, so good!"

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her vision blurring as she rode out the intense waves of pleasure. And in that moment, as her mind was lost in a haze of lust and sin, she swore she saw a figure standing before her.

It was God Himself, His face twisted in a mixture of anger and disappointment. He reached out to her, His hand hovering just inches from her flushed skin, as if He wanted to strike her down for her transgressions.

But Y/n was too far gone to care. She was lost in the throes of her climax, her body shaking and twitching as she came harder than she ever had before. The image of God faded away, replaced by a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations that left her breathless and spent.

Y/n collapsed back onto her bed, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. Slowly, she withdrew the hairbrush handle from her dripping pussy, a low whimper escaping her lips as she felt the sudden emptiness.

She lay there for a moment, catching her breath and trying to process the overwhelming emotions that coursed through her. Shame, guilt, and a lingering sense of arousal all battled for dominance in her mind.

As the haze of lust began to clear, Y/n's thoughts turned once again to the forbidden nature of her fantasies. She knew that what she had done was wrong, that her desires were sinful and unholy. But she couldn't deny the intensity of her feelings, the way her body had responded to the mere thought of Oscar.

With a sigh, Y/n sat up and tossed the hairbrush aside, wiping the sticky evidence of her pleasure from her thighs. She knew she needed to put these thoughts out of her mind, to focus on being a good daughter and a devout follower of God.

As the post-orgasmic haze lifted, a wave of embarrassment and shame washed over Y/n. She glanced around her room, suddenly hyper-aware of the sacred objects that surrounded her. Her eyes landed on the small statue of the Virgin Mary that sat on a tiny altar in the corner, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat.

Quickly, Y/n pulled her shorts back on, trying to cover herself as if the statue could see through her clothes and judge her for what she had just done. She avoided looking at the altar, afraid of what she might see in Mary's serene, knowing eyes.

Y/n's mind raced with thoughts of repentance and atonement. She knew she needed to pray, to ask for forgiveness for her sinful actions. But even as she thought about kneeling before the altar and confessing her sins, a small part of her rebelled against the idea.

Y/n stumbled into the bathroom, her legs still shaky from the intensity of her orgasm. She turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on her face, hoping to wash away the lingering flush of arousal from her cheeks.

But as she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew that no amount of water could cleanse her of the sins she had just committed. Her eyes were dark and haunted, her expression a mix of shame and lingering desire.

She grabbed a washcloth and wiped between her legs, trying to remove any evidence of her self-pleasure. But even as she scrubbed, she knew it was futile. The stain of her sin ran deeper than any soap or water could reach.

Y/n's mind wandered back to the statue of the Virgin Mary in her room, and she felt a pang of guilt. She knew she should be praying, should be asking for forgiveness, and vowing to do better. But the thought of facing Mary, of confessing her sins to the mother of God herself, filled her with dread.

She emerged from the bathroom, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She made her way to the kitchen, her mind still reeling from the intensity of her sinful thoughts.

She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with cool water from the tap, taking a long sip to calm her nerves. The liquid soothed her parched throat, but did little to quench the thirst that still burned within her.

Y/n hopped up onto the kitchen counter, her feet dangling as she sat perched on the cool granite. It was a habit her father had always playfully scolded her for, but in his absence, she found herself craving the rebellious thrill of it.

As she swung her legs back and forth, Y/n's mind drifted once again to Oscar. She wondered what he was doing, if he was thinking about her too. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her body, and she squeezed her thighs together, trying to ignore the renewed ache between her legs.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she heard the unexpected knock at the door. She quickly composed herself and made her way over, smoothing down her hair and adjusting her clothes before opening it.

To her surprise, she found Alexandra standing there, her back turned as she waved goodbye to Rebecca, who was walking away down the path. Y/n blinked in confusion, wondering what her best friend was doing here so suddenly.

"Alexandra? What are you doing here?" Y/n asked, her voice still slightly breathless from her earlier activities.

Alexandra turned around, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she took in Y/n's flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance. "I thought I'd come over and keep you company while your dad makes breakfast," she said, her tone playful and suggestive. "Plus, I figured you could use some girl talk after the way you were eye fucking one of the altar boys earlier."

Y/n let out an exasperated groan, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red as Alexandra's words confirmed her suspicions. Of course her best friend had noticed her shameless ogling of Oscar. There was no hiding anything from Alexandra.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Y/n muttered, stepping aside to let Alexandra enter the house. "Was I actually that obvious? I must have looked like such a creep."

Alexandra laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she brushed past Y/n and made her way into the living room. "Oh please, you weren't that bad. Besides, I'm sure he didn't mind the attention. He seemed pretty smitten with you too."

As she spoke, Alexandra called out in a loud, sing-song voice, "Good morning, Mr. L/n! Wherever you are!"

Y/n shook her head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No, Dad's not home. He had to leave for an emergency meeting or something."

Alexandra raised an eyebrow, her nose wrinkling slightly as she sniffed the air. "Huh, that explains why I don't smell any food. Your dad usually has something cooking by now after Mass."

Y/n nodded, feeling a pang of sadness at the realization. Her father's absence always left a void in the house, a sense of incompleteness that she couldn't quite shake.

"Yeah, I'll have to fend for myself until Wednesday," she sighed, leading Alexandra towards the kitchen. "Want some cereal or something? It's not exactly gourmet, but it'll have to do."

Alexandra shrugged, a playful smirk on her face as she followed Y/n into the kitchen. "Sure, cereal sounds great. It's better than nothing at all."

As they rummaged through the cupboards for bowls and spoons, Alexandra couldn't help but notice the lingering tension in the air. She knew Y/n well enough to sense when something was bothering her, and the way her friend had been acting lately was definitely out of the ordinary.

"So, you wanna talk about it?" Alexandra asked softly, pouring milk into her bowl of cereal. "I know something's been on your mind lately. You've been distracted, and I'm worried about you."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the box of cereal. She knew she could trust Alexandra, but the thought of voicing her forbidden desires out loud made her stomach twist with anxiety.

Alexandra's eyes softened with understanding, and she reached out to place a comforting hand on Y/n's arm. "Hey, it's okay," she reassured her, her voice gentle and encouraging. "There's nothing you could say that would be too much information for me. We've been through way too much together for that."

She chuckled lightly, remembering their teenage years and the countless sleepovers and baths they had shared. "Seriously, Y/n, you can tell me anything. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart racing as she weighed her options. She knew she could trust Alexandra with her life, but the thought of confessing her sinful desires still made her palms sweat with nervousness.

As Alexandra took a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession she knew she needed to make. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her palms grew clammy with nerves, but she forced herself to speak.

"I... I masturbated while thinking about Oscar," Y/n blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper. She kept her eyes fixed on her bowl of cereal, unable to meet Alexandra's gaze as she waited for her friend's reaction.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, Alexandra lowered her spoon, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wait, what?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. "Who are you talking about?"

Y/n nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she realized Alexandra's confusion. "Yeah, I know you're not exactly the best with names and faces," she said, shaking her head. "He's one of the altar boys, one of the tallest out of all the servers earlier."

Alexandra's eyes widened as the realization dawned on her. "Oh, shit," she breathed, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "You mean the hot one with the wavy-ish hair and the dimples?"

Y/n felt her cheeks flush with heat, and she nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, that's the one," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't stop thinking about him, Alexandra. It's like every time I close my eyes, I see his face, and I..."

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as a wave of shame and desire washed over her.

Y/n buried her face in her palms, a loud groan escaping her lips as she tried to find the words to express the depth of her shame and desire. "Fuck, man," she mumbled, her voice muffled by her hands. "I literally thought about..."

She stopped abruptly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she realized what she was about to say. Taking a deep breath, Y/n slowly lowered her hands, revealing a face that was equal parts mortified and determined.

"I... I wanted to get bent over the altar," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. "With him. With Oscar."

Alexandra's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock as she processed Y/n's confession. For a moment, she simply stared at her friend, her brain struggling to compute the sheer audacity of what Y/n had just admitted.

Alexandra let out a low whistle, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and disbelief. "Lord have mercy on your soul..." she joked, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "I never thought of you as the type to have such wild fantasies, Y/n."

Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I know," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I've always been the good girl, the pastor's daughter who always took the chance to pray and set a good example."

She paused for a moment, her brow furrowing as she tried to find the right words to explain the turmoil that raged within her. "But lately, I've been feeling... restless. Like there's this part of me that wants to break free, to explore things that I've always been taught are wrong or sinful."

Y/n's voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she continued, her eyes downcast and her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and excitement. "I mean, I've already explored them, yeah, but..." She trailed off, biting her lip as she struggled to find the right words.

"I want to experience these things without the fear of being dragged to hell by the devil himself," she finally admitted, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. "I want to feel alive, Alexandra. I want to know what it's like to give in to my desires, to let go of all the rules and restrictions that have been holding me back for so long."

Alexandra listened intently, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on Y/n's arm, her touch gentle and reassuring.

She smiled warmly, her eyes shining with a mix of affection and understanding. "It's okay, Y/n," Alexandra said softly, her voice filled with reassurance. "That's why we have each other. We're here so that we can express ourselves freely to each other without judgment."

She squeezed Y/n's arm gently, her touch a silent reminder of the unbreakable bond they shared. "You don't have to be afraid to explore your... fantasies, Y/n. I'm here for you, no matter what. And if anyone tries to drag you to hell for it, they'll have to go through me first."

Y/n let out a soft laugh, her eyes brimming with tears of gratitude and relief. She knew she could always count on Alexandra to be there for her, to support her no matter what.

Alexandra grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with a playful glint as she leaned in closer to Y/n. "Well, if you really want to explore these desires of yours, maybe you should just seduce him," she suggested, her voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/n's eyes widened, and she let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Alexandra!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and amusement. "I can't just go up to him and... and..."

She trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as she considered the possibility. "Although..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe it's not such a bad idea. After all, what's the worst that could happen?"

Alexandra took a bite of her cereal, a playful smirk on her face as she chewed thoughtfully. "I don't know, you could get disowned if your father finds out," she said, her tone light and teasing.

Y/n's eyes widened in panic, and she leaned forward, her voice rising with each word. "Wait, do you really think he would disown me?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

Alexandra's own eyes widened in surprise, and she waved her hands frantically in front of her. "No, no, of course not!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "He'll be mad, yes, but he won't disown you. I was just joking, Y/n. Don't freak out."

Y/n let out a shaky laugh, her hand pressed against her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart. "Please, never do that again," she pleaded, her voice still tinged with a hint of panic. "I might die of a heart attack before the alcohol I consume weekly gets to my liver."

Alexandra rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of guilt in her expression. "Fine, fine, I'll try to be more sensitive to your delicate constitution," she teased, her tone softening as she reached out to pat Y/n's hand reassuringly.

"But seriously, Y/n, you know your dad loves you. He might be strict, and he might be disappointed if he found out about your... extracurricular activities, but he would never disown you. You're his daughter, and nothing will ever change that."

Y/n nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she felt the tension drain from her body. "Yeah, you're right," she agreed, her voice soft and grateful. "I know my dad loves me, no matter what."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the question that had been nagging at her since she saw Alexandra with Rebecca earlier. "So, what's going on between you and Rebecca?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral. "I mean, you practically pounced on her before I even left your room. Are you guys...?"

Alexandra's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she busied herself with her cereal, avoiding Y/n's gaze. "Nothing," she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the clink of her spoon against the bowl. "We're just friends."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by Alexandra's dismissive response. "Just friends?" she pressed, her tone skeptical. "Because it looked like there was something more going on between you two."

The next day, Y/n found herself at the church, as she often did in her free time. She moved through the familiar space with ease, straightening pews and dusting shelves, lost in thought as she reflected on her conversation with Alexandra the day before.

As she made her way behind the altar in search of the broom they used indoors, Y/n ran into Oscar. He was kneeling on the floor, his head bowed in prayer, his wavy hair falling across his forehead.

Y/n froze, her heart skipping a beat as she took in the sight of him. He looked so peaceful, so serene, and she felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

"Oscar?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own breathing.

Oscar startled at the sound of her voice, his head snapping up to look at her. His eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush crept across his cheeks as he realized who it was.

“Oh my, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were praying.” Y/n said shyly, realizing she may have interrupted his sacred time with God.

Oscar stood up, brushing off his knees as he turned to face Y/n. "Hi," he said, his voice soft and warm. "No need to apologize. I was just finishing up anyway."

Y/n felt a rush of relief wash over her, and she smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, okay. Good," she said, her voice trembling slightly with nerves. "I was just looking for the broom. I'm supposed to be cleaning up around here."

Oscar nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "I can help you with that," he offered, gesturing towards the supply closet where the cleaning supplies were kept. "It's my turn to clean the altar anyway."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the prospect of spending more time with Oscar, and she felt a sudden surge of excitement mixed with anxiety. "That would be great," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Thank you."

Oscar handed Y/n the broom, and they made their way out into the main sanctuary. As Oscar began cleaning the altar, Y/n started sweeping the floor, the soft swish of the broom mingling with the hushed conversations of the churchgoers.

The congregation seemed unbothered by their presence, as it was a fairly normal sight to see the altar boys tending to the altar and Y/n cleaning. They went about their tasks quietly, the only sounds being the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional clink of metal as Oscar polished the candlesticks.

As Y/n swept, her mind wandered back to her conversation with Alexandra. She couldn't help but think about what it would be like to be with Oscar, to feel his strong hands on her body, to taste his lips against hers. The thought made her cheeks flush with heat, and she quickly pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Y/n found herself zoning out, her mind wandering as she swept the same spots over and over again, as if trying to erase some invisible stain. She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice when Oscar had finished cleaning the altar and had moved on to wiping down the glass cases that held the statues of various saints.

It wasn't until she heard the soft clink of glass that Y/n snapped back to reality, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realized how distracted she had been. She glanced over at Oscar, who was diligently working his way down the line of statues, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Y/n bit her lip, her heart racing as she watched him work. She couldn't help but admire the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, the way his hair fell across his forehead as he leaned in to clean the higher shelves. It was almost enough to make her forget where they were, to make her want to reach out and touch him, consequences be damned.

She quickly made her way back behind the altar, putting the broom away in its designated spot. She then headed to the front pew, the same place she had sat in yesterday and for years before, having been the one to always read the second readings during mass.

As she settled onto the hard wooden bench, Y/n let out a soft sigh, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She could still feel the heat of Oscar's presence, the way her heart had raced as she watched him work. It was almost too much to bear, the desire that coursed through her veins, the longing to be close to him.

Y/n closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pew as she tried to calm her racing thoughts. She knew it was wrong, that she should be focused on her faith, on serving God, but she couldn't deny the way her body responded to Oscar's presence.

As she sat there, lost in thought, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change, that her life was about to take a turn she never could have anticipated.

Y/n's eyes fluttered open as she felt the pew shift slightly beside her. She turned her head to see Oscar settling in next to her, a slightly damp rag clutched in his hand.

"Man, that was exhausting," he said, his voice low and tired. "I don't know how you do it, Y/n. Cleaning this whole place by yourself."

Y/n smiled softly, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice so close to her. "It's not so bad," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's kind of peaceful, actually. A chance to clear my head and just... be."

She shifted slightly, her thigh brushing against Oscar's as she did so. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat.

Oscar turned to look at Y/n, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Be...?" he repeated, his voice trailing off as he searched her face for answers.

Y/n bit her lip, her heart racing as she tried to find the right words to explain the turmoil that raged within her. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm not really living, you know? Like I'm just going through the motions, pretending to be someone I'm not."

She paused, her gaze drifting to the stained glass windows that cast a puzzle of colors across the sanctuary. "But when I'm here, cleaning, praying... it's like I can finally breathe. Like I can finally be myself."

Oscar nodded slowly, his eyes softening with understanding. "I know what you mean," he said, his voice low and earnest. "Sometimes it feels like the whole world is expecting us to be something we're not. To fit into these perfect little boxes that don't really exist."

Y/n let out a quiet groan, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the pew. "This is making me sad," she admitted, her voice heavy with emotion.

Oscar's brow furrowed with concern, and he reached out to place a comforting hand on Y/n's arm. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin. "Let's do something fun. How about we go get a milkshake at the diner?"

Y/n's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "Sure," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That sounds perfect."

They stood up from the pew, Oscar's hand lingering on Y/n's arm for a moment longer than necessary. As they made their way out of the church, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement mixed with nervousness. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn't be feeling this way, but she couldn't deny the way her heart raced at the prospect of spending more time with Oscar.

The diner was a short, five-minute walk away from the church, nestled on the corner of Main Street. As they stepped inside, the bell above the door chimed, announcing their arrival. The scent of fried food and coffee hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sound of clinking dishes and low chatter.

Oscar led the way to a booth in the back, sliding in across from Y/n. She watched as he flagged down the waitress, ordering a chocolate milkshake for himself and a vanilla one for her. Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.

"Vanilla is my favorite," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you know?"

Oscar grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Your dad talks about you a lot," he admitted, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I may have picked up a few things."

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at the thought of her father talking about her, of Oscar taking the time to listen and remember the little details.

As the milkshakes arrived, Y/n found her mind drifting back to her conversation with Alexandra. The words "seduce him" echoed in her head, a tantalizing whisper that set her heart racing.

Without thinking, Y/n reached for the whipped cream on top of her milkshake, scooping up a dollop with her finger. She brought it to her lips, her tongue darting out to lick it off slowly and deliberately. It was an innocent gesture, but there was something undeniably sensual about the way she did it, the way her eyes locked with Oscar's as she savored the sweetness.

"Mmm, delicious," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "I love vanilla."

Oscar's eyes widened, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Y/n's lips, from the way they glistened with the remnants of the whipped cream.

"I... I'm glad you like it," he stammered, his voice rough with emotion.

Y/n tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck. She bent forward, her lips parting as she took the cherry from the top of the whipped cream, her tongue darting out to catch the sweet, sticky juice.

She sat back up, a playful laugh escaping her lips as she caught Oscar's wide-eyed stare. He was praying in his head, begging God not to tempt him like this, to keep him pure and innocent. But with each passing moment, each glimpse of Y/n's flesh, his resolve was crumbling.

"What's the matter, Oscar?" Y/n teased, her voice low and sultry. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Oscar swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight. "N-nothing," he stammered, his eyes darting away from hers. "I'm fine."

As they sipped their milkshakes, Y/n continued her innocent yet seductive antics. She ran her fingers along the rim of the glass, her eyes never leaving Oscar's face as she watched him squirm in his seat.

"So tell me, Oscar," she purred, her voice low and breathy. "What do you like to do for fun?"

Oscar nearly choked on his milkshake, coughing and sputtering as he tried to regain his composure. "I... I like to read," he managed, his voice hoarse. "And play guitar. And... and help out at the church."

Y/n leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she propped her chin in her hands. "That's nice," she said, her voice dripping with honey. "I bet you're really good with your hands. With the guitar, I mean."

Y/n leaned back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took another sip of her milkshake. "You know, Oscar," she said, her voice low and sultry, "I've always wondered what it would be like to play the guitar."

She set her glass down, her tongue darting out to lick a stray drop of milkshake from the corner of her mouth. "Maybe you could teach me sometime," she purred, her gaze never leaving his. "I'm a quick learner."

Oscar's heart was pounding in his chest, his palms sweaty as he gripped the edge of the table. He knew he should put a stop to this, to tell Y/n that he couldn't be her teacher, that it was wrong. But the temptation was too great, the desire too strong.

"I... I'd be happy to teach you," he managed, his voice rough with emotion. "Anytime you want."

Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay, I'll think about it," she said, her voice light and airy. As she shifted in her seat, her foot brushed against Oscar's thigh, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

"Oops," she giggled, her cheeks flushing with feigned innocence. "Sorry about that."

Oscar's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure. He knew it was just an accident, that Y/n didn't mean anything by it. But the way she looked at him, the way her foot lingered on his thigh, it was enough to drive him wild with desire.

"It's... it's okay," he managed, his voice hoarse and strained. "Accidents happen."

Y/n leaned forward, her eyes wide and innocent as she looked up at Oscar through her lashes. "Hey, Oscar," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "Can I try a sip of your milkshake? I've never had the chocolate flavor before. My dad always gets the black coffee, and I've just been getting vanilla ever since I was a kid."

Oscar's heart skipped a beat at the request, his mind racing with the implications. He knew it was just a milkshake, just a simple, innocent gesture. But the way Y/n looked at him, the way her lips parted as she waited for his answer, it was enough to make his head spin.

"Sure," he managed, his voice rough with emotion. He slid his glass across the table, his fingers brushing against hers as she reached for it.

Y/n wrapped her lips around the straw, her eyes never leaving Oscar's as she took a long, slow sip. She let out a soft moan of appreciation, savoring the taste.

"Mmm, it's good," Y/n purred, her eyes half-lidded as she set the glass back down on the table. "But I still prefer my vanilla milkshake."

She took another sip of her own drink, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of cream on her bottom lip. "There's just something about the simplicity of vanilla, you know? It's pure, untainted. Innocent."

Oscar swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He knew Y/n was just talking about the milkshake, but the way she spoke, the way her words seemed to hang in the air between them, it was enough to make his head spin.

"I... I understand," he managed, his voice hoarse. "Vanilla is a classic for a reason."

Y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Exactly," she said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. "Sometimes, the simplest things are the most satisfying."

Y/n leaned back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked up at Oscar. "Hey, Oscar," she said, her voice low and sultry. "My dad's not going to be home tonight, so I was thinking... maybe you could come over later and help me practice guitar?"

She bit her lip, her teeth sinking into the soft, plump flesh as she waited for his response. "We could stay up late, just the two of us. I'm sure you could teach me a thing or two."

Oscar's heart was pounding in his chest, his palms sweaty as he gripped the edge of the table. He knew it was a bad idea, that he should say no, that he should run as far away from Y/n as possible. But the temptation was too great, the desire too strong.

"I'd- I'd love to," he managed, his voice rough but hesitant. "Just give me a call when you're ready."

Y/n clapped her hands together, her face lighting up with excitement. "Yay!" she exclaimed, her voice high and girlish. "I can't wait to learn how to play guitar."

She leaned back in her seat, her demeanor shifting to something more playful and innocent. As they continued to talk, Oscar found himself struggling to focus, his mind still reeling from Y/n's bold flirtation.

He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, his skin flushed and tingling with a strange new sensation. He had never felt so... desired before, so wanted. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, a rush of adrenaline that left him breathless and dizzy.

Throughout the rest of their conversation, Oscar found himself stealing glances at Y/n, his eyes lingering on the curve of her lips, and the softness of her skin. He knew it was wrong, that he should push these feelings aside and focus on his faith, but he couldn't help the way his heart raced at the thought of seeing her again later, of being alone with her in the privacy of her home.

Y/n walked towards the door, her heart racing with anticipation. She had chosen her outfit carefully, wanting to strike a balance between comfort and allure. She wore a pair of shorts that were short enough to reveal an unholy amount of skin, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places.

On top, she had opted for a white shirt that was sheer enough to hint at the outline of her bra beneath, the delicate lace peeking through the thin fabric, contrasting the gold cross necklace she had worn her entire life

As she reached for the doorknob, Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for the evening ahead. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn't be feeling this way about Oscar. But she couldn't deny the thrill that ran through her at the thought of being alone with him, of having his undivided attention.

With a final twist of the knob, Y/n pulled open the door, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Oscar standing on the other side. "Hey there," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "Come on in."

Oscar stepped inside, his eyes widening as he took in Y/n's appearance. "Thanks for inviting me," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "No need to thank me, Oscar," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "I'm the one who should be thanking you for agreeing to teach me."

She gestured towards the living room, her hips swaying slightly as she walked. "We can practice in here, it's nice and spacious. But fair warning, it's a bit hot in here. No AC."

Y/n turned back to face him, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Or we could practice in my room. It's a bit smaller, but the AC works perfectly. Your choice."

"I think I'd prefer a cold room over a hot one," he said shyly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

She shot him a warm smile, "Okay, follow me." She gestured, making her way up the stairs.

scar's gaze flickered over the photos lining the walls as Y/n led him upstairs, his heart clenching at the sight of her and her father together. There were pictures of them at the beach, at her graduation, at various milestones throughout her life. Occasionally, a photo of Alexandra and Y/n would appear, the two girls grinning at the camera, their arms slung around each other's waists.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Y/n paused, turning to face Oscar. "My room's just down the hall," she said, her voice soft. "Last door on the right."

She started walking again, her hips swaying slightly as she moved. Oscar followed behind her, his eyes glued to the gentle curve of her spine, the way her shirt clung to her back.

When they reached her room, Y/n pushed open the door, gesturing for Oscar to enter. "After you," she purred, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

The room was exactly as Oscar had imagined it would be. Simple, minimalistic, with a white metal bed frame and a small crucifix hanging above it. In the corner, there was a small altar with a statue of the Virgin Mary, and on the bedside table, a pink pearl rosary lay coiled neatly. The bedspread was mostly white, with delicate pink flowers scattered across the surface, and the pillowcases were the reverse, with a pink background and white flowers.

"You can sit wherever you're comfortable," Y/n said, gesturing to the bed and the floor. "I'll go grab my dad's guitar."

As she turned to leave, Oscar's eyes lingered on the bed, on the soft, inviting surface. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was here to teach Y/n how to play guitar, nothing more.

He settled himself on the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern of the bedspread. The room was cool and quiet, the hum of the air conditioner a soothing background noise.

As he waited for Y/n to return, he couldn't help but notice the subtle details of her room. There was a faint, delicate scent of jasmine in the air, which he later discovered came from a small air freshener perched on her dresser. Everywhere he looked, there were hints of innocence - the soft pink hues of her bedding, the occasional hair tie scattered on her nightstand, the various rings she wore on her slender fingers.

On the wall, there was a framed dried flower, its petals faded and brittle with age. Oscar wondered about its significance, about the memories it held for Y/n.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see Y/n entering the room, a guitar case in her hands. She set it down on the bed beside him, her fingers lingering on the smooth, worn leather.

"Okay," she said, her voice bright and eager. "Let's get started."

Oscar helped Y/n remove the guitar from its case, his fingers brushing against hers as he took it from her hands. He held it up, examining it closely. "When was the last time this was tuned?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Y/n bit her lip, her eyes darting away from his. "To be honest, we haven't used it in about two years," she admitted, her voice sheepish. "We kind of forgot about it."

Oscar nodded, his fingers plucking at the strings experimentally. They were out of tune, the notes discordant and jarring. "No worries," he said, his voice reassuring. "We can tune it right now."

He sat down on the bed, patting the space beside him for Y/n to join. As she settled in next to him, Oscar began to tune the guitar, his fingers moving deftly over the strings. The room filled with the soft, melodic sounds of the instrument coming to life, the notes blending together in perfect harmony.

Oscar finished tuning the guitar and handed it to Y/n, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary. "Here you go," he said, his voice soft. "Now, let's start with the basics."

He sat beside her on the bed, his leg brushing against hers as he demonstrated the proper way to hold the guitar. "Keep your thumb behind the neck of the guitar," he instructed, his hand guiding hers. "And wrap your fingers around the fretboard like this."

As he showed her how to position her fingers, Oscar couldn't help but notice the way Y/n's hands felt in his, the softness of her skin, the delicate strength in her fingers. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Now, let's try strumming," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. He reached over, his hand covering hers as he guided the pick across the strings. The guitar came alive under their touch, the notes ringing out clear and bright.

"Good job," Oscar said, his voice warm with approval. He leaned in closer, his eyes focused on the way Y/n was holding the guitar. It seemed awkward, her fingers splayed across the fretboard in an unnatural position.

As he tried to adjust her grip, his gaze drifted lower, drawn to the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage peeking out from the neckline of her shirt. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as his eyes lingered on the soft swell of her breasts.

Realizing what he was doing, Oscar quickly closed his eyes, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He couldn't let himself be tempted like this, not when he was supposed to be teaching her, guiding her.

He forced himself to focus on the guitar, on the feel of the smooth wood beneath his fingers, the cool metal of the strings. "Let's try that again," he said, his voice strained. "This time, keep your wrist straight, like this."

His hand covered hers once more, his touch gentle but firm as he guided her through the proper technique.

As Y/n began to get the hang of the guitar, her fingers moving more confidently across the fretboard, Oscar felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. She was a natural, her hands seeming to instinctively find the right positions, the right chords.

But then, in a moment of enthusiasm, Y/n applied too much pressure to one of the strings, the sharp edge of the fret digging into her fingertip. She gasped, her hand jerking away from the guitar as a thin line of blood welled up on her finger.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise and pain. She brought her finger to her mouth, sucking on the wound instinctively.

Oscar's heart clenched at the sight, his hand reaching out to steady the guitar as it threatened to slip from her lap. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Y/n nodded, her eyes meeting his. "It's just a little cut," she said, her voice muffled by her finger. "Nothing serious."

Oscar could see the pain in Y/n's eyes, the way she was trying to hold back tears. His heart ached for her, and he reached out, taking her hand in his. "Let me see," he said softly, his thumb brushing over the cut on her finger.

"It must hurt," he murmured, his brow furrowed with concern. "Do you have a bandaid here?"

Y/n nodded, pointing to the small desk in the corner of her room. "Yeah, there's a box in the drawer."

He stood up, crossing the room to retrieve the bandages. As he rummaged through the drawer, he couldn't help but notice the personal items scattered amongst the clutter- a hairbrush, a tube of lip gloss, a few loose change. He felt a pang of guilt for intruding on her private space but pushed the feeling aside.

He returned to the bed, sitting down beside Y/n once more. "Here," he said, holding out a small, square bandage. "Let me put this on for you."

Oscar carefully applied the bandage to Y/n's finger, his touch gentle and precise. As he finished, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. There was only the two of them, the warmth of the room, the softness of the bed beneath them.

Before Oscar could react, Y/n leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tender kiss. He froze for a moment, his mind reeling with shock and confusion. But as Y/n's lips moved against his, he found himself kissing her back, his own inexperience evident in the awkward, tentative movements of his mouth.

Y/n could tell that Oscar hadn't kissed anyone before, and a part of her was thrilled at the idea of being his first. She deepened the kiss, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open for her.

Oscar pulled away from the kiss, his heart pounding in his chest. He was flustered, his mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions and desires. "Y/n, we can't," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is the devil tempting us, trying to lead us astray."

But Y/n wasn't having it. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. "Then why does it feel so good?" she whispered, her voice low and seductive. "Tell me you want me too, Oscar. I don't care if we're going to hell for it. I just need you."

Her words sent a shiver down Oscar's spine, his body responding to her touch, her proximity. He knew it was wrong, that he should resist, that he should push her away. But the desire coursing through his veins was too strong, too overwhelming.

"I... I do want you," he admitted, his voice trembling with longing. "But we can't. It's not right."

Y/n's eyes gleamed with determination as she gazed into Oscar's conflicted face. She knew she had him on the hook, and she wasn't about to let him slip away.

"Oscar," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "Don't you believe that God forgives those who truly repent? That He understands the weakness of the flesh?"

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "We can give in to this temptation, just this once. And then we can confess our sins, ask for forgiveness. It's not like we're doing anything truly sinful, after all. We're human, we can sin every once in a while."

Oscar's breath hitched in his throat, his resolve crumbling under the weight of Y/n's persuasive words. He knew what she was saying made sense, that it was a logical argument. But still, a small part of him hesitated, unsure if he was truly ready to cross that line.

Y/n's words washed over Oscar like a tidal wave, eroding his resistance with each passing second. "It's a sign, Oscar," she breathed, her eyes wide and imploring. "Look around you. It's just the two of us, nobody to disturb us, nobody to judge us. Maybe it's meant to be. Maybe we're meant to give in to our desires, just this one time."

Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. Oscar's heart raced, his body responding to her touch despite his mind's protests. He knew what she was saying made sense, that they were alone, that no one would ever know. But still, a part of him hesitated, unsure if he was truly ready to cross that line.

Y/n leaned in closer, her lips hovering just inches from his. "Please, Oscar," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "I need you. I want you. Let's just forget about everything else for a while and focus on each other."

Oscar's resolve was crumbling, his body betraying his mind as Y/n's seductive words washed over him. "But they're watching," he whispered, his eyes darting to the crucifix and the statue of the Virgin Mary.

Y/n followed his gaze, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Let them watch," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "They know this is natural, Oscar. They'll understand. It's not like we're committing some unforgivable sin."

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "God created us with these desires, Oscar. He wouldn't condemn us for acting on them."

His heart raced, his body responding to Y/n's touch despite his mind's protests. He knew what she was saying made sense, that it was a logical argument.

Y/n's hands slid down Oscar's chest, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. "Don't you see, Oscar?" she breathed, her eyes dark with desire. "This is meant to be. We're meant to be together, to share this moment. It's a gift from God."

Her lips trailed along his jawline, her teeth grazing his skin. "Think about it," she murmured, her voice low and seductive. "We're alone, with no one to disturb us. No one to judge us. It's like we're in our own little world, a world where the only thing that matters is us."

Oscar's breath hitched in his throat, his body responding to Y/n's touch despite his mind's protests. He knew what she was saying made sense, that it was a logical argument. But still, a part of him hesitated, unsure if he was truly ready to cross that line.

Oscar's resistance finally crumbled, his body melting into Y/n's embrace as he returned her kisses with a shy, tentative passion. "I... I don't know how to please a woman," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never... I'm a virgin."

Y/n's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before being replaced by a look of tender understanding. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her fingers caressing his cheek. "I'll guide you, Oscar. We'll take it slow, and I'll show you everything you need to know."

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "Just trust me, and let yourself feel. Let yourself experience the pleasure that God has gifted us with."

Y/n gently guided Oscar to sit on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Just relax," she murmured, her voice soft and reassuring. "I'll take care of you."

She knelt down in front of him, her eyes level with his crotch. Slowly, teasingly, she ran her hands up his thighs, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through the fabric of his jeans.

Oscar's breath hitched in his throat, his body responding to her touch despite his nervousness. He had never been this intimate with anyone before, and the thought of Y/n touching him in such a way both thrilled and terrified him.

Y/n's fingers dug into Oscar's thighs, her nails lightly scraping against his skin as she squeezed and massaged the firm muscle. She could feel him shudder under her touch, his body responding to her teasing caresses.

A wicked smile played on her lips as she heard his sharp intake of breath. She loved seeing him like this, vulnerable and at her mercy. It was a heady feeling, knowing that she had the power to make him tremble with desire.

Slowly, deliberately, she reached for the zipper of his jeans, her fingers toying with the metal tab. She could see the bulge in his pants, the evidence of his arousal, and it only served to fuel her own desire.

With a swift tug, she pulled down his zipper, the sound of the metal teeth parting echoing in the quiet room. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and boxers, pulling them down in one smooth motion until they pooled around his ankles.

Oscar flinched as Y/n eagerly tugged down his jeans and boxers, exposing his most intimate parts to her hungry gaze. Feeling shy and embarrassed by her boldness, he quickly covered his face and mouth with one hand, hiding behind it as she began to touch him.

Y/n's fingers danced along his inner thighs, slowly making their way higher and higher. She could feel his body trembling under her touch, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She reveled in the power she held over him, in the way she could make him quiver with just a simple caress.

"Relax, Oscar," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "There's no need to be shy. I'm going to make you feel so good."

Her hand wrapped around his hardening length, her fingers stroking him slowly, teasingly. Oscar let out a low moan, his hips bucking involuntarily as she touched him.

Oscar whimpered as Y/n's fingers danced along his sensitive skin, her touch both tantalizing and overwhelming. "Have you ever touched yourself?" she asked, her voice low and seductive.

Oscar's face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes darting away from hers. "N-no," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n chuckled, her fingers continuing their teasing exploration. "I don't believe you," she purred, her thumb grazing the tip of his hardening length.

He let out a low moan, his hips bucking involuntarily as she touched him. "I... I tried," he admitted, his voice trembling with embarrassment. "But I didn't know how."

Y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Give me your hand," she purred, her voice low and seductive.

Oscar hesitated for a moment, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. But as Y/n's fingers intertwined with his, he found himself giving in to her guidance.

She wrapped his hand around his hardening length, her fingers gently curling around his own. "Like this," she murmured, her voice soft and encouraging. "You can go slow."

She guided his hand in a slow, steady rhythm, her fingers gliding along his shaft with each stroke. Oscar let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the sensation.

"Or you can go faster," Y/n whispered, her hand speeding up the pace. Oscar gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily as she increased the intensity of his strokes.

Oscar's shy moans filled the room as Y/n continued to guide his hand, her fingers curling around his own as she showed him how to stroke himself. "That feels good, doesn't it?" she purred, her voice low and seductive.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he lost himself in the sensation. He had never felt anything like this before, the pleasure coursing through his body like a raging river.

Y/n's hand sped up, her fingers gliding along his shaft with each stroke. Oscar's breath came in short, sharp gasps, his hips bucking involuntarily as she increased the intensity of his pleasure.

"You're doing so well, Oscar," she murmured, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Just let yourself feel it. Let yourself enjoy it."

Y/n's fingers slowed their strokes, her hand still intertwined with Oscar's as she guided him. "I'm going to do something now," she whispered, her voice low and seductive. "Don't freak out, okay?"

Oscar nodded, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Okay," he managed to choke out, his eyes wide with anticipation and nervousness.

Slowly, teasingly, Y/n leaned forward, her lips parting as she took the tip of his cock into her mouth. Oscar let out a low, guttural moan, his fingers tightening around hers as he felt the warm, wet heat of her mouth enveloping him.

Her head bobbed up and down, her lips sealed tightly around Oscar's shaft as she began to suck. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, her cheeks hollowing as she increased the suction.

Oscar's fingers tightened around hers, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. But as Y/n guided his hands away from his cock, he found himself letting go, his palms coming to rest on her shoulders as she took him deeper into her mouth.

The cross necklace around Y/n's neck dangled and swayed with each movement of her head, the gold chain catching the light as it brushed against her skin. Oscar watched, transfixed, as the symbol of her faith bounced and twirled, a stark contrast to the act she was performing.

Y/n's lips stretched around his length, her throat constricting as she took him deeper and deeper. Oscar's head fell back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lost himself in the intense pleasure of her mouth.

Oscar's eyes rolled back in his head as Y/n's mouth worked its magic on his throbbing length. "Oh my god," he groaned, the words tumbling from his lips without a second thought.

For a brief moment, the realization that he had just taken the Lord's name in vain flashed through his mind. But the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body quickly pushed any thoughts of sin or guilt aside.

Y/n's tongue swirled around his shaft, her lips sealed tightly around him as she bobbed her head up and down. The wet, obscene sounds of her sucking filled the room, mingling with Oscar's breathy moans and gasps.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, his hips rocking back and forth as he lost himself in the sensation. Nothing else mattered in that moment - not his faith, not his vows, not the consequences of his actions. All that existed was the feeling of Y/n's mouth on his cock, and the all-consuming need for more.

Y/n could feel Oscar's body tensing, his grip on her hair loosening as he neared his climax. His moans grew louder, more desperate, his hips rocking erratically as he chased his release.

But just as he was about to reach the peak, Y/n abruptly stopped, pulling her mouth away from his throbbing length. Oscar let out a strangled cry, his body writhing with frustration.

"No, please, don't stop," he begged, his voice hoarse and pleading. "It felt so good. Please, I need..."

Y/n placed a finger against his lips, silencing him. "Shh, it's okay," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Calm down. It'll feel even better later, I promise. Just trust me on this, okay?"

Oscar's breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with need. But as he looked into Y/n's eyes, he found himself nodding, his trust in her overriding his desperation.

Y/n smiled, pleased with Oscar's compliance. "Good boy," she purred, her eyes roaming hungrily over his nearly naked form. "Now, why don't you take off the rest of your clothes for me?"

Oscar nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head, tossing it aside carelessly before kicking off his jeans, which were still bunched around his ankles.

In his haste to obey Y/n's command, Oscar didn't even notice that she was undressing as well. His eyes were fixed on her face, his body trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Y/n's fingers deftly traced the bottom of her shirt, her hips swaying seductively as she slipped it off her shoulders. Her bra followed soon after, revealing her pert breasts to Oscar's wide-eyed gaze. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts, shimmying out of it before sliding her panties down her legs.

Oscar's face flushed a deep crimson as he took in the sight of Y/n's naked body. He wanted to speak, to express the multitude of emotions and desires coursing through him. But the words caught in his throat, his shyness overpowering his courage.

Y/n noticed his hesitation, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Do you need to say anything, Oscar?" she asked, her voice low and inviting. "Don't be shy. It's just the two of us here."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I... I just..." he stammered, his eyes darting away from hers. "I've never seen a girl naked before. You're so beautiful."

Y/n's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with approval. "Thank you, Oscar," she purred, taking a step closer to him. "And you're pretty cute yourself."

She reached out, her fingers trailing down his chest, his abs, his hips. Oscar shivered under her touch, his body responding to her closeness despite his nervousness.

Y/n noticed Oscar's nervousness, the way his body trembled under her touch. She leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "Hey," she whispered, her breath mingling with his. "Calm down for me, okay? You need to relax."

Oscar's eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting hers. "S-sorry," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just a bit scared."

Y/n smiled, her fingers tracing the contours of his face. "It's okay to be scared," she murmured, her lips brushing against his forehead. "But I'm here with you. I won't let anything happen to you."

She kissed him again, her lips moving softly against his. Oscar melted into the kiss, his fears slowly dissipating as he lost himself in the sensation of her touch, her warmth, her presence.

Y/n noticed the worried expression on Oscar's face, his body tense and uncertain. She cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin. "Hey," she whispered, her voice soft and reassuring. "I'm okay. Don't worry."

She leaned in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. As she did, she rocked her hips, taking him deeper inside her. A gasp escaped her lips, her eyes widening as she felt him stretch her further.

"Fuck," she breathed, her voice strained with a mix of pleasure and discomfort. "You're huge."

Oscar's eyes widened, his body relaxing slightly at her words. He had never heard such a compliment before, and it sent a surge of confidence coursing through him.

Y/n smiled, her hips moving in small, circular motions. "See?" she purred, her lips curling into a seductive smirk. "I can handle you. Just relax and let me take care of you."

Oscar nodded, his body relaxing under Y/n's guidance. "Okay," he breathed, his voice trembling with anticipation.

As Y/n began to move, Oscar's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure. "Oh god," he gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily as she rode him. "Oh fu- oh my god."

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice low and seductive. "It's okay to swear. It's just between us."

Oscar's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "Fuck," he breathed, the word falling from his lips like a forbidden fruit. "Fuck, Y/n. You feel so good."

She smiled, her hips moving faster, harder. "That's it," she purred, her voice encouraging. "Let go. Say whatever you want. No one's here to judge us."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with mischief as she heard Oscar swear, his voice trembling with pleasure. "That's it," she purred, her hips moving faster, harder. "You sound so pretty when you swear."

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "God forbid my father ever finds out," she whispered, her voice low and conspiratorial. "But I'd gladly risk it if it meant I could hear this every night."

Oscar's eyes widened, his body tensing at the thought of being discovered. But the pleasure coursing through him was too intense to ignore, and he found himself pushing the thought aside, focusing instead on the feeling of Y/n's body moving against his.

Y/n threw her head back, a loud moan escaping her lips as Oscar hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. "Fuck, right there baby," she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

But as she felt him tense beneath her, his body shaking with a mix of pleasure and panic, she realized what was happening. "Stop, stop," he whimpered, his voice muffled against her neck. "I-I think I'm gonna pee."

Her eyes widened, but she quickly reassured him. "No, you're not," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "That's just your body's way of telling you you're about to cum."

As if on cue, Oscar's body convulsed, his hips bucking as he released inside her. Y/n gasped, her own orgasm crashing over her as she felt him fill her with his seed.

They lay there for a moment, their breaths gradually slowing as they came down from their high. But as the post-orgasmic haze began to lift, reality started to set in.

Oscar buried his face in Y/n's neck, his voice muffled as he spoke. "That was so... oh my god..."

Y/n's arms tightened around him, her fingers running through his hair in a soothing gesture. "I know," she whispered, her voice soft and understanding. "It's a lot to take in."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his face. "Are you okay?" she asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "I mean, physically. Did I hurt you at all?"

Oscar shook his head, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "No," he mumbled, his eyes darting away from hers. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

Y/n smiled, her fingers tracing the contours of Oscar's face. "That's okay," she murmured, her voice soft and reassuring. "It's normal to feel overwhelmed after your first time. Just take a deep breath and try to relax."

But before Oscar could respond, a loud crack of thunder echoed outside, followed by the sound of heavy rain pelting against the window. Oscar's eyes widened, his body tensing at the sudden noise.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and confusion.

Y/n glanced towards the window, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's just rain," she explained, her fingers still tracing patterns on his skin. "A big storm must have rolled in while we were... distracted."

Oscar's eyes darted between Y/n and the window, his mind struggling to process the new sensory input. The sound of the rain, the flashes of lightning illuminating the room, the scent of petrichor wafting through the air - it was all too much for his overstimulated senses to handle.

She felt his body tense against hers as another clap of thunder boomed outside. She could sense his fear, his discomfort with the sudden storm. "Okay, lay down for me," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "You can use the pillows to cover your ears while I go downstairs, okay?"

He nodded, his face still buried in the crook of her neck. He slowly laid down on the bed, his hands clutching the pillows tightly to his ears.

Y/n smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "I'll call your mom on the landline and let her know you're staying over tonight," she explained, her fingers tracing the shell of his ear. "I can't let you walk home in this rain."

Oscar's eyes widened, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "But my mom..." he started, his voice muffled by the pillows.

"Shh, it's okay," Y/n reassured him, her lips brushing against his temple. "I'll explain everything. Just try to relax, okay?"

Y/n slipped out of the bedroom, pulling her clothes back on. As she made her way downstairs, she glanced back at Oscar, who was lying on the bed staring out the window. His ears were still covered with the pillow, and the bottom half of his body was now draped with the blanket.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his vulnerability and innocence shining through despite the intimate act they had just shared. She knew he was scared, overwhelmed by the storm and the new experiences of the day. But she also knew that he trusted her, that he felt safe with her.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation with Oscar's mother. She knew it wouldn't be easy, to explain why her son was spending the night during a thunderstorm. But she also knew that it was the right thing to do, to keep him safe and protected.

Y/n picked up the phone and dialed Oscar's mother's number, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as she waited for the call to connect.

When Nicole answered, Y/n explained the situation, her voice trembling slightly. "Hi Nicole, it's Y/n. I'm so sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but... Oscar is here with me. We were practicing guitar when the storm hit, and it's just too dangerous for him to walk home right now."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Y/n's heart sank. But then Nicole's voice came through, warm and understanding. "Oh honey, don't worry about it. I was actually just about to call you. I was going to ask if Oscar could stay the night, because I don't want him walking home in this weather either."

Y/n let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as the tension drained from her body. "Thank you so much, Nicole," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I really appreciate your understanding."

Y/n hung up the phone, a wave of relief washing over her. She had been so worried about how Nicole would react, but her understanding and support had put Y/n's mind at ease.

She made her way back upstairs, her footsteps soft on the carpeted steps. As she entered the bedroom, she found Oscar still lying on the bed, his ears covered with the pillow and his body tucked under the blanket.

"Everything's okay," she said softly, perching on the edge of the bed. "Your mom knows you're here, and she's happy for you to stay the night. She was actually just about to call and ask me the same thing."

Oscar's eyes widened, the pillow slipping slightly as he turned to look at her. "Really?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and relief.

Y/n nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Really. She understands about the storm, and she doesn't want you walking home in this weather either."

Y/n rummaged through her closet, pulling out an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. They were clearly her father's clothes, the shirt hanging loosely on her frame as she held them out to Oscar.

"Come on, sit up," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Let me help you get changed."

Oscar hesitated for a moment, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But the thought of wearing his own wet, sticky clothes made him shudder, and he slowly sat up, the blanket falling away from his body.

Y/n helped him into the oversized shirt, the fabric swallowing his smaller frame. She then handed him the shorts, averting her eyes as he slipped them on.

"There," she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Comfy?"

Oscar nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at the oversized clothes. They were comfortable, and he felt a sense of safety and security wearing them.

But as he went to stand up, he suddenly pulled Y/n down with him, plopping back onto the bed. She let out a small "oof" of surprise, but didn't comment on it, realizing that he was just tired and seeking comfort.

Oscar wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he snuggled into the pillow. Y/n could feel his body relaxing against hers, his breathing slowing as he drifted off to sleep.

She smiled, her fingers gently stroking his hair as she watched him sleep. Despite the events of the day, the intimacy they had shared, she felt a sense of peace wash over her.

The following Sunday, Y/n and Oscar found themselves back at church, sitting in their usual pews. Y/n was scheduled to read a Bible verse about lust, a topic that had taken on a whole new meaning since their encounter last week.

As she stood up to approach the podium, Y/n couldn't help but steal a glance at Oscar. Her eyes met his, and she saw his cheeks flush a deep crimson, his gaze darting away from hers.

She suppressed a smile, remembering the intimate moments they had shared. The thought of the pastor's daughter and an altar server engaging in such activities would surely raise some eyebrows if anyone found out.

Y/n cleared her throat, the microphone crackling to life as she began to read the verse. "For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God..."

taglist:

@nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

@livsturnioloo @callsignwidow @anamiad00msday @morgrinha @zestytimbit

@si1ver06 @lilorose25

1K notes · View notes

the-secret-formulaone · 1 month ago

Text

DARLING, HOLD MY HAND

prompt: your new manicure has oscar's brain short circuiting

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: 18+, cursing, handjob, very tame

a/n: this was purely impulsive and self-indulgent. i got my nails done today and this is how i feel about them and how i'd like my boyfriend (if i had one) to react.

this oneshot is very fluff and only a tinsy bit spicy. the smut is not the main point hence why it's not my best work but it's enjoyable! [and a bit nasty hehe]

this is my offering to the oscar girlies who constantly keep me fed with his fluffy fics. i owe the oscar girlies everything. they are some of the best writers in this platform. idk if it's them or oscar which have that secret ingredient.

enjoy!

You love to get your nails done. Every couple of weeks you make an appointment and go get your nails done without fault.

Oscar knew not to mess with that.

From the day he met you, you've had your nails done. He can't recall if he's ever seen you without nail polish and it's been a couple of years since you got together.

You often mention how having your nails bare makes you feel naked. It’s part of your identity it’s what makes you…you.

Oscar doesn't mind in the slightest. It's one of your quirks and he respects it. Whenever you come home with new nails you'll show him excitedly and he'll tell you they look good promptly returning to your lives.

You've taught him to always remind you if he has an important event to attend or a vacation planned so you can fit in your nail appointment before then. Yes, you cared about your hair and your makeup and your outfits but your nails where everything. A priority.

Oscar has been witness to the catastrophe that is breaking a nail. He will follow along your lead and nod at how it sucks and it’s the worst thing to ever happen.

He thinks it's cute how you will look at your hand and huff in annoyance at the mismatched length the days leading up to the appointment. The same one you bumped up on your schedule.

The one thing Oscar never counted on was his brain chemistry changing after one particular manicure.

He's home chilling watching TV. You've been gone for a couple of hours to get your nails done. He doesn't dare to make plans at that time knowing you'll chose to get your nails done over doing whatever with him.

You'd never cancel on your nail tech the same day, especially after browsing for new nail art for days in preparation. He doesn't argue with your routine lets you be. Oscar knows the drill already.

The door opening and your keys jingling tells him everything he needs to know. "Osc, I'm home," you call out to him, leaving your bag and coat by the door.

You pad down to the living room where he's sprawled out on the couch, grey sweatpants and hoodie covering his fit body. You smile at the sight, you have such a lovely boyfriend.

"Hey babe, how was your appointment?" He asks, looking away from the TV to spare you a glance.

"It was great. Look at my nails," you squeal, falling beside him on the couch and showing him your nails. You stretch your arms in front of you, putting your hands right on his eye line.

You finally bit the bullet and got the famous cat eye nails. Tired of the Pinterest girlies living their best lives with sparkly nails without you, you paid the extra fee to join them.

The nude color shimmered in magnetically designed patters with every move of your fingers. You spent the whole way home oohing and awing at how spectacular they looked. They say money can't buy happiness but you're pretty damn happy with your manicure.

Oscar stares blankly, watching the shimmering polish catch the light. He's never had an opinion on your choice of color or design, everything you picked suit you and was pretty even if you voiced your disappointment about how your idea panned didn’t pan out as you imagined.

But this manicure in particular made his brain short circuit. He felt like a magpie chasing after something shiny. The more you wiggled your fingers, the more tranced he was.

"Osc?"

"That's pretty neat. Is this the first time you do that color?" He asks, knowing the answer because there's no way he missed this before.

"Yeah, it's a fairly new popular type of polish. Had to pay extra though," you shrug, taking your varnished fingers away from his face. He almost had half a mind to pull your hands back to keep starring.

"Huh," he says, returning to the TV as you settle more comfortably beside him to scroll on your phone.

As the days go by he's hyper focused on your nails. Always observing the cute way the light hits them and how they make your hands look very attractive. In his eyes it's so classy and sexy. Oscar can't explain it properly.

It’s not like your hands changed or the shape of your nails. It’s the eye catching shimmer that has him in a trance. He panics on the inside about seemingly developing a new kink based on the color of your nails. It’s a new low even for him.

You and Oscar aren't the type to hold hands all the time, but ever since you changed your manicure he's been holding them non stop to watch the fine glitter shift with the angle of the light.

You're the type of person to talk with your hands so whenever you're having a conversation with your boyfriend you catch his eyes following your hands. He's obsessed and you love it.

You say nothing, letting him have his fun. You won't ever turn down your boy for admiring one of your favorite things. Your phone is filled with pictures of your new manicure so you understand him perfectly.

Oscar has half the mind to give you more money just so you can tip your nail tech extra. Hell, he'll send them to her with a small thank you note. He feels indebted.

One morning, the brightness of a new day wakes him up. Oscar forgot to shut the blinds the night before. You never do because you like to fall asleep looking at the night sky.

It's cheesy and Oscar teases you about it endlessly, but being the good boyfriend he is he takes on the responsibility of shutting them every night so the sun doesn’t disturb you in the morning.

You're asleep on your side, facing him. Your hand resting between the two of you. The promise ring he gave you glints with the sunlight along with your pretty nails.

He touches the varnish lightly with his finger tips, admiring it once more. Grabbing your hand, he kisses each one of your fingertips, following your hand, your wrist and up your arm.

He might as well take advantage of waking you from your peaceful state after you begged him to the day before. You wanted to see him before he left to work out and meet with his team.

He kisses your shoulder softly, before burying his head on your neck. "Wake up, love," he whispers into your ear. His voice heavy with sleep still.

"Hmm," you whine, throwing your arm around Oscar to hug him close. "Five more minutes," you groan as your nails come up to his head to scratch his head.

"I have to go," he laughs softly, but he relaxes in your arms, enjoying the feel of your nails on his scalp.

"Five more minutes." He can hear the pout on your voice so he stays in place, face on your neck and arm thrown around your waist. Oscar closes his eyes and enjoys the affection you're so freely offering.

Throughout it all, Oscar comes to realize that your nails look the best when your hand is wrapped around his cock with the flash of his phone shining down on them as he records the moment.

He records intimate moments between the two of you often for when he's away on a race and you can't join him. Sometimes the time zone difference don’t let you help him and he has to depend on these videos he has tucked away on a locked folder of his phone.

"Fuck, that's it baby," Oscar groans as your hand pumps his hard cock up and down. You're lying down next to him, kissing his neck while reminding yourself not to leave any hickeys.

Oscar has gotten in trouble for that before.

Your hands are shiny from the lube you applied all over his length to make your job easier. Other times, you'd have your mouth and hands all over him but he requested this so, who are you to say otherwise?

The nail polish and the shimmers pop with the harsh white light of the flash and Oscar knows this will be in his favorites folder for months to come. You swipe his tip with your thumb, stimulating the sensitive area.

Oscar's hips jerk against your hand and a groan spills from his lips. You whisper in his ear, praising him and talking dirty. Comments that will leave him blushing when he randomly remembers them in the middle of the day.

His cock was throbbing and leaking precum all over your palm. "I love it when you get messy, Osc," you brush your lips on the shell of his ear and feel him shiver.

Your teeth sink into his earlobe, making him groan. You're playing dirty, you know Oscar's sweet spot is in his ear.

Oscar moans your name, tearing his gaze from the phone on his hand to press his lips against yours in a wet kiss. He hisses into the kiss as you carefully grip his cock tighter.

"I'm gonna cum," he moans, shutting his eyes tightly as his head falls back. The phone falls on his stomach as he chooses to grasp at the crisp white bedsheets. You grab it with your free hand, finishing his job of recording as you speed up.

His cock is slick with lube and precum, his tip a bright pink as it swells up. You record as your hand slips up and down firmly, Oscar's hips stutter, chasing his release. One of his hands gripping your side tightly as the other joins yours on his cock.

In a matter of seconds, Oscar cums as his moans echo in the dark bedroom. Sticky, white covers his cock, his thighs, his stomach and your hands. You turn the phone in your direction, licking the cum off your fingers, savoring the taste of him. Nails glint mischievously at him. With a cheeky wink, you blow a kiss into the camera and wave, stopping the recording.

It's definitely being saved to his favorites.

Everyone typically hates Monday's unless it's a festive day but not Oscar. Oscar likes them because he can rest after a stressful race weekend.

That was until disaster struck on a Monday and then he understood everyone's hatred of the day.

"Oscar, I'm home," you sing, taking off your shoes and leaving your bag on the table by the door. You bounce into the kitchen excitedly finding him preparing a smoothie.

"Hey babe," Oscar greets you as he drops the fruit into the blender, leaning down when you tug his hoodie to drop a kiss on his cheek.

"Look at my new nails," you giggle, extending your hand in front of his face.

Oscar feels his face fall at the new color varnish. It's a pretty red that compliments your skin well but it's not the cat eye nail polish as he's come to learn it's called. Many men would love the sexy red color and he does like it but he much preferred the other one.

"What happened to the other color?" He lets slip as he holds in his horror.

"What do you mean? Osc, my nails were falling apart, you know I change them every couple of weeks," you say, tilting your head in question.

The polish was starting to lift at the edges and you hate when your hair gets stuck on it. Only Oscar was allowed to pull your hair.

"Oh," he says plainly, hiding his disappointment.

"You don't like them?" You ask him, inspecting the color yourself to see if there was something he noticed that you didn't, but the red color looked perfect.

"No, no," Oscar is quick to reply, grabbing hold of your hands and giving a kiss to the back of each one, "They look perfect as always. I just really liked that other color is all."

"Oh okay," you sigh, pecking his lips, "I'll keep that in mind for the future, Osc."

Something lights up in Oscars eyes. "So you'll get them done like that next time?"

"God no," you giggle, patting his cheek, "We'll be right in the middle of the summer. I was thinking about something bright, like orange!"

Oscar sighs in defeat but he smiles at you and nods. He lets you go do your own thing as he finishes his smoothie. The loud whirring of the blender a representation of how he's crying on the inside.

thoughts?? prayers?? complaints?? applause??

hope you liked it!!

1K notes · View notes

writethrough · 1 year ago

Text

I Know Better

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You've heard every rumor about Billy Hargrove—from the girls, the guys, the teachers, the parents—it never interested you all that much. Until one of those pesky rumors involved you.

Warnings: Language, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1396

A/N: This is the first stop on the apology tour for everyone who's sent me in a request. It's been a year for some of you, and I'm so sorry and grateful for your patience.

I had a really hard time starting this in the sense that I had so many ideas, but none of them fit with this prompt. So, it took me a while to settle on the story I wanted to tell. I had to stop thinking about this as a “Billy is mean to everyone” fic, and start considering it a “You are Billy’s soft spot” fic. It had to be a “How is he different because of you?” And then it sort of clicked.

This is a sort of soft-launch to a larger something. I'm not sure if it will turn into a full multi-part fic or just spontaneous additions in this little fanfic universe.

And to the anon who requested this, Tumblr ate your request when I tried saving it to my drafts, so I really, really hope you come across it.

I hope you enjoy!

Anon Request: “Another Billy request idea is “he’s mean as fuck to everyone but me

"Like??? Maybe I need to go to therapy but the hard as stone exterior on that boy and the thought of him being sweet as pie to his girl makes me mush”

Moodboard by @saradika

Billy Hargrove never scared you.

Not even in high school when all you heard about was his bark and bite and overall terrible attitude.

You didn’t cross paths often, surprisingly so with how small Hawkins was, but sometimes you’d get glimpses of him against his locker or waiting by his car.

You still remembered the time he pulled in beside you as you were shutting your door.

Max had waved at you before rushing off to the middle school. Then, Billy had slowly risen, lighting a cigarette in the process, and locked eyes with you.

He greeted you by name, a lazy smile spreading across his lips, and sauntered away.

You had replayed that morning for the next two weeks, stunned that he knew your name let alone gave you the time of day.

It was a month or two afterward when you actually witnessed Billy at his worst.

You weren’t there for the start, but you had turned a corner in the halls and were met with other students gawking at a fight.

You shoved your way between teenagers, intent to get to your class before the bell rang when that mullet stopped you.

Billy had been looming over Roger, the school’s very own sleazy douchebag.

In your mind, whatever that prick had said or done, he absolutely deserved the consequences Billy was doling out.

You were about to continue walking when Billy leaned in closer to him with a tilt of his head. And until that point, you didn’t know that gesture could be so menacing.

“Wanna say that again?”

Your brows pulled in confusion.

What could Roger have said that made Billy so furious?

It must have been some insult, something that cut right to whatever insecurities Billy hid from the world. You really couldn’t imagine what he’d be self-conscious about. To you, Billy was the epitome of confidence.

Billy’s eyes caught your shoes, and you swore his shoulders tensed. He trailed up your body and met your gaze, grinding his teeth.

He slowly straightened, and without another word, stormed out of the building.

Mrs. Click finally arrived and disbanded everyone and helped Roger to the nurse’s office.

Your last class was full of whispered theories and passing notes.

I heard he keyed Billy’s car.

No, Billy definitely slept with the chick Roger was eyeing up.

Could’ve sworn I heard Roger call some girl a slut-in-the-making.

The day couldn’t have been over soon enough.

At least it was the weekend, and in a month, you’d be graduating.

You were walking to your car, sun in your eyes, and didn’t see Billy leaning against it until you were too close to pretend you forgot something to head back inside.

“Hey,” he said, putting out his cigarette.

“Hi,” you said slowly, gripping your backpack strap.

“You okay?” His hands slipped in his pockets.

Your furrowed your brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He pushed off your car and took a few steps toward you.

It was really the first chance you had to take in how blue his eyes were. And while normally you’d look away as you held each other's gaze, something planted you where you stood.

He had the barest of smirks, so slight that you’d dare call it a smile.

“If I said I wasn’t alright, would you agree to hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

You let out a surprised laugh and glanced down. This was the first conversation you’d ever had with Billy, and he was asking you out.

This was probably how he operated. He’d set his sights on some girl, give them that eat-you-alive smirk, and you’d wake up alone Sunday morning without even a note saying “bye.”

But even with all that, your curiosity won out. So you made a deal.

“Tell me what that was all about, and I’ll be there.”

There was a flash of anger, but you didn’t think it was toward you. Leftover feelings for whatever happened no doubt. Then, he softened in a way you had never seen before.

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, beginning to walk away. He turned around before he could get too far. “Don’t bring a jacket.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help your smile.

“You’ll have mine.”

The cocky grin would’ve been irritating with anyone else, but Billy’s was endearing.

You drove home with a stupid smile plastered on your face, and you stayed that way until Billy rapped on your door.

—

That Saturday night, he tried to breeze past his altercation. Until you leveled him with a sincere look and said his name.

He had leaned back in the booth, ripping his remaining fries in pieces to distract himself.

“He pissed me off,” Billy said, still maintaining his gruffness.

“I figured as much,” you said gently. You knew if he sensed anything else, you wouldn’t get any answers.

He huffed, glancing at you before returning to his basket of food.

“The prick said somethin’ he shouldn’t have.” He shrugged. “I told him as much.”

You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes in thought. Billy wasn’t know to beat around the bush. He said what he thought, and you kind of admired that about him. Even if that got him in trouble. But the way he wasn’t maintaining eye contact when that was his favorite way to throw someone off guard was suspicious. He was hiding something, of course, but it felt more than hiding something from you alone.

You took a shot in the dark.

“Are you…Are you not telling me what he said because it was about me?”

His jaw clenched and hands stopped.

So, that was it. Roger had said something nasty about you, and for whatever reason, Billy took it upon himself to…defend your honor?

But why?

And what could it have been to make Billy react like that? You hardly knew each other.

You inhaled deeply. “Okay. Tell me what he said.”

“You don’t need to hear his bullshit.” He met your gaze, steady and stern. You wanted to slap your chest to keep your heart from skipping.

“Billy,” you started, “I promise whatever he said isn’t going to affect me. I just want to know why you had him on the ground.”

At this point, you had dissociated from high school and the people in it. All that mattered was graduation.

“What does it matter?” His tone came out more harsh than you anticipated, but the way his face pinched told you he didn’t mean for it to happen.

You leaned on the table. “Because I’ve had a really nice time so far. And as much as I appreciate you standing up for me. If you wanna continue this,” you gestured between you both, “you can’t beat the shit outta people.”

“You wanna go out again?” His eyebrows rose slightly, and your cheeks warmed.

Of course, that was what he took away.

“Billy,” you warned playfully.

“Alright,” he sighed. “He caught me starin’ at you a few times. Said your legs were locked shut, but I could probably get them open.”

You scrunched up your nose. You knew Roger had to have said something vulgar, but you were more surprised it was about you then the actual content.

“Okay. Was that all?” Sure, it was gross, but that didn’t seem like something Billy would lose his shit over.

“That happened last week,” he admitted. “Told him to shut the hell up, and I thought that was that.” He shifted in his seat. “Guess he saw you lookin’ at me and he started callin’ you names. And then I hit’im.”

Names.

You could hazard a guess what names he called you. Probably the same ones he called every other female who didn’t wanna sleep with him. Ones that would describe him more than you.

You reached across the table and grabbed his wrist.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “And I need you to know, I don’t give a single fuck what that dipshit thinks.”

He chuckled, putting his hand on top of yours.

“So, that mean a second date is in the books?” he asked.

“Like I said, only if you don’t punch someone when they say something you don’t like,” you said, hoping your face conveyed how serious you were.

He leaned his elbows on the table.

“I was thinkin’ a movie for next time.”

Taglist: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks, @nix-rose, @ballerina-orchid, @realmermaidariel

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove x female reader #Billy Hargrove x fem!reader #Billy Hargrove x you #Billy Hargrove one shot #Billy Hargrove oneshot #Billy Hargrove fanfic #Billy Hargrove fanfiction #Billy Hargrove imagine #Billy Hargrove imagines

3K notes · View notes

priyajoyy · 2 months ago

Text

Scared

Dark!lottie Matthew’s x reader x dark!natalie scattorcio x dark!shauna shipman

Warnings:

Typical Yellowjackets stuff, These are dark! Characters so pretty toxic, Shana and Lottie are freaky 😔, illusions to mental health issues, dissociation, hallucinations, starvation, force feeding, cannibalism, ect

Series masterlist here

This is a lot darker than I’ve ever written before icl 😭

However I’ve been imagining soo many dark fic ideas with these three specifically and Yellowjackets so I just had to make this

(And believe it or not I had even darker ideas icl so we’ll see if I write anything else like that lol)

Lottie, Natalie and Shauna who accidentally created a monopoly of control between them of the rest of the girls

Who didn’t mean to take over control of the Yellowjackets, but at Lottie as their weird seer, in control of what the girl’s believed, Natalie as their queen, in control of the rules, and Shauna as the butcher, in control of their food supply, it just sort of happened

With Reader who ended up taking on the role as their little pet

Helping with cooking and cleaning but not much else, they wouldn’t want their little girlfriend doing too many chores or hurting their self would they?

Lottie who makes sure you never pick the queen card

Who convinces you to do as they say because it’s what the wilderness wants (not that you have much choice anyway)

Lottie who makes love to you in weird rituals in the woods, speaking words you don’t understand and have learnt to get used to

Lottie who gives you ‘therapy’ sessions daily, the both of you spending time channelling the wilderness

Who has you wear necklaces of bone and headdresses of sticks and flowers, she calls ‘crowns’ to protect you

And who calls your dissociation and hallucinations a ‘gift’ from the wilderness, something Natalie hates

Natalie who has you by her side constantly

Who basically mothers you, who makes sure you eat when you forget and get to sleep on time in her hut

Natalie who even went as far as to force feed you javi after he fell in the river because you were so distraught and refused

Who cares for you when you dissociate from your situation, keeping you warm and looked after as best as she can, stealing you away from Lottie, when she tries to claim your issues as a ‘sign’

And who has to practically babysit Lottie and Shauna most of the time to stop them from doing anything stupid

Natalie who holds you back the night Shauna beats the shit out of Lottie, holding your face into her chest and stopping you from watching while you sob.

Shauna who makes sure you get extra portions of food, much to the other girls annoyance

Who’s basically your guard dog, and is the reason none of the others speak out against your unfair treatment

Shauna who can be the cruellest out of the three of them, turning cold and closed off since the morning she found Jackie frozen outside

And who swears to never let the wilderness take you like it did her best friend or her baby

Shauna who likes to bite. She’ll bite your lips when you make out. Sometimes your neck and arms too.

Who never asks for your input on anything, just makes decisions for you (although Lottie and Natalie only pretend to give you the illusion of choice anyway)

And who likes the control she has over you, who feels like it grounds her

Reader who refuses to resort to cannibalism at first, not touching Jackie’s charred corpse

Who has to be force fed by Natalie when she refuses to eat javi, scared reader would starve otherwise

Reader who refuses to go on the hunts when they take place (not that the three girls would let her come, worried she’d get hurt) not wanting to take part in hurting any of the others

Reader who at one point plans to run away, packing her bag and stealing the knife from Shauna while she sleeps, only to be stopped by the three at the last minute

Reader who’s punishment is normally what Nat calls ‘house arrest’, wether it’s being getting locked in the pantry in the cabin, or having Shauna guard her in their newly made huts for a few days

Reader who loves her three lovers, just as much as she’s kind of scared of them

Who can’t sleep at night without one of them laying by her side

Reader who sees things, shadows out the corner of her eye, or figures with antlers coming out their head in their dreams

Natalie who thinks it’s psychosis, the effect of long term starvation and stress of being stuck out here, just like it is with the others

Shauna who doesn’t think it’s real, she never has, but she doesn’t see the harm in lotties ‘teachings’ when it gives you comfort

Lottie who knows it’s a gift, that reader is like her, chosen by the wilderness to help protect them all

And Reader who prays to the wilderness overnight that none of them get hurt or die, following lotties ‘teachings’ much to Natalie’s chagrin

Reader who hates to make any of the girls upset with her, whos grown to cry at the thought of them being mad at her

Who depends on them entirely, but loves them regardless

459 notes · View notes

redwinelew · 3 months ago

Text

SAVE YOUR TEARS

type written fic (no part 2 request pls)

pairing lewis hamilton x driver!reader

summary you need a distraction and your teammate is the perfect person for that

word count 3.7k

warnings 18+. smut. nsfw. porn with oh so little plot and even little feelings. unprotected sex. rough sex. emotional sex. prone bone then missionary (idk i tried), praise kink. hints of depression, self doubts etc etc idk lmk what i missed. english is not my first language.

author's note self-indulgent if u couldn't tell from the warnings. that's it. sorry.

masterlist

lewis didn't expect you to turn up in front of his hotel room tonight night, face wet with tears staining your cheeks, lips trembling as you held back a sob.

nor was he expecting you to ever utter these words to him.

"i need you to fuck me."

lewis' lips parted, unable to get any words out, too shocked by your sudden request. he has a million different questions appearing in his brain all at once. what the hell is happening? why are you crying? who did this to you? and why on god's green earth did you just ask him to— he couldn't even repeat it to himself. it didn't feel real, didn't even sound like you were asking. pleading, more like it, in pure desperation.

he calls your name softly, like he's trying to wake you up from a dream. his thick eyebrows tie together in confusion. "what are you—"

"please...." you cut him off, the last syllable getting more inaudible as it trails away. tears beginning to fill up your eyes again before they drop, reaching your jaw and fall to the floor.

lewis has never seen you like this, and he's pretty sure nobody else on the grid or the public did either. his teammate whom in his eyes, the one who always got her shit together. he's almost jealous at how composed you always presented yourself to be, on and off track, never letting any unwanted criticisms by fans or media from getting to you, always quick to shut them down cleverly. the last person anybody could ever take down, mentally.

then he realized, that he held you to such a high standard to the point where he had forgotten that you were still just a human. it's only a matter of time before you break and if lewis personally had his moments where he was at his lowest, he couldn't imagine being in your shoes right now.

everything immediately clicked for lewis right there and then. he had never invited a girl inside so fast, never undressed her so quickly.

"what's your safe word?" he asks, needing to know before he proceeds.

"pancake."

lewis nods. he was about to crash his lips against yours when you put your hand on his clothed chest to stop him firmly, almost clenching your hand on his shirt, head turn away slightly.

"no," you refused.

kissing means this would get personal. complicated. and you do not want complications in the future. this is not going to be a love-making session. this is going to be lewis fucking you hard until your eyes roll back and your vision turns white. until the thickness of his cock makes your hollow soul lights up again. until you feel alive from his hand around your throat.

nothing else.

and that's exactly what he's doing right now. no kissing. he immediately understood it from the minute you refused his lips, getting what this is going to be.

lewis' tattooed hand fists on your shirt hard as he avoids your lips and kisses your neck instead, finding those spots that make your knees buckle and focuses particularly on there. you remove his hair tie, and tangle your fingers with his braids. he groans, his hair a particular sensitive part on his body. his thick lips travel lower to lay kisses along your collarbone. no marks either, he doesn't need to be told that.

though for some reason he does not understand, it is suddenly quite hard to resist himself from leaving purple bites on your skin. not when he had someone like you in his arms whom he had found beautiful since the first time his eyes laid in you.

no, lewis tells himself silently. this is not about you. this is about her. she's struggling. there's a demon that she needs to defeat and she needs your help. so help her.

you find yourself walking in reverse as he advances towards you, before your back hits the soft mattress of his hotel bed.

"yes." you say, already breathless, letting him know this is exactly how you want it. no tip-toeing, no hesitation or being overly careful, because you trust him enough to know that he knows what he should and shouldn't do, or you wouldn't have knocked in his door. you might be mentally fragile, but not your body. you need him to get to work quickly, to get you out of the mess that is currently your mind right now. he doesn't need to be gentle, because all you desire is the exact opposite.

lewis does not respond. instead he takes off your shirt and bra, throwing them somewhere on his floor without caring where they land. you do the same with his. lewis climbs over you, leaving neither of you time to admire one another's half naked bodies. nothing to gawk over. this is not what you came here for and lewis was quick to understand that.

his lips were fast to attack your bare chest next. his tongue swirls over your nipple, coating it with his spit before sucking hard, creating sounds as lewd as your moans right now. he also groans silently, the vibration sending more waves of pleasure inside you. he lets you gather his braids to press his face harder on your breast while one of his hands went to grope on the other, flicking your already sensitive nipple before giving it the same attention with his tongue. your back arches, and you find yourself pressing both your thighs together, desperate for relief on your lower half.

he senses it and leaves your chest. he pulls down your pants next, then your panties. you catch the way he visibly swallows at the sight of your dripping pussy, his own cock starting to throb in need.

"tell me what you need," he asks breathlessly, his voice huskier than usual, making your walls clench around nothing.

"your fingers." you answer without hesitation. the rational part of your brain manages to slip through, making you wonder for a split second just what made you so bold tonight, demanding all sort of things you never even had the courage to ask anybody.

maybe it's demons in your head, the one you are desperate to get rid off so you are forcing yourself to do the absolute craziest, just to feel like your old self again.

lewis nods. part of him is still in disbelief over what is currently happening but he tries to leave it at the back of his head. you let him spread your legs with ease and he doesn't waste any time to slide his digit smoothly over your fold to gather your arousal, earning a sharp gasp from you. he spits on your cunt, his saliva mixes with your wetness before he pushes.

still he was careful, only using one finger for now. he's well aware of the thickness of his digits and not sure how much you can take if he immediately adds more.

"m-more." you're whimpering already and the sound goes straight to lewis' dick, forcing him to take a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm his twitching cock.

but it's difficult. this is lewis hamilton, seven times formula 1 world champion. the greatest of all time. admire by billions. and yet when he has a pretty girl like you underneath him, at his mercy, your beautiful cunt clenching hard around his fingers, suddenly lewis is just a normal man. one who is not sure how much longer he can hold himself from claiming you all for himself.

lewis takes a deep breath. this is not about you, he tells himself again. you need to listen to her. give her what she needs. you can get any girl to come to your hotel room for fucking, and yet she only has you, the only man she clearly feels safe enough to ask of this.

"faster." you ask and lewis starts to deliver, pushing your legs apart even further before his hand picking up its pace, until the only sounds in the room are your ragged moans and the slickness of your cunt.

you are gorgeous. absolutely breathtaking, lewis thinks to himself. the way your face is flushed, sweat staining all over your face and neck. how your figure, hypnotizing as if it was blessed by aphrodite herself writhe underneath him, chasing that high. sinful moans and whimpers from your lips, enchanting his ears, making him curl his fingers until they find that one spot inside that makes you only whine louder, addicted into finding even more ways to earn those sounds from you. your legs part even wider as if not getting enough, silently begging for more than just his fingers.

"fuck...." lewis cannot help but groan. he sees the way your breath is getting shorter, more ragged. following his own impulses, lewis stops, withdrawing his hand from you.

you whine shamelessly at the sudden emptiness. you look up, watching lewis licking your arousal clean from his lips. the sight should be dirty, should make your pussy pulses in lust but instead your brain is protesting, head thrown back on the mattress in frustration. no, no, no, no, the brain says. you were far from reaching your peak since lewis had just started fingering you but you were at bliss at how preoccupied your mind was, having no room to think about anyting but his fingers inside you.

the insecurities starting to come back. the demon has gone back to work, playing in your ears and whispering doubts into you again.

maybe lewis is regretting this. he thinks you're sick in the head and he wants you to leave. he's going to tell the team—

"you're gonna come on my cock only."

oh—

oh.

you don't have time to be dumbfounded when lewis gets off the bed to remove his pants, eyes stay on yours. a hiss leaves his lips as he wraps his hand around himself, pumping his rock hard cock that already leaks with pre-cum while keeping his lustful gaze on you the entire time before he gets back to the bed to you.

your mouth almost waters at the visual. yes, you came to his hotel room, crying, begging him to fuck you. and yet it's unbelievable to see lewis like this. the champion, feared by the rest of the grid, respected by the whole wide world, is currently hard and throbbing in front of you. for you.

your cunt is wet again, pulsing around air thinking about just how he'd fit himself inside you but before you could do anything, he flips you flat onto your stomach. you yelp, caught off-guard by his sudden action. the mattress dips as his knees sink into it on either side of your body. he grabs his pillow before shoving it under your belly.

condom is on and when you feel his tip pressing against your entrance, you gasp silently, already gripping the sheets.

"we can stop if you want." he says, lowering his voice down to a softer tone, giving you a way out. he's willing to ignore the way his dick twitches, begging to be taken care of, if you desire to stop. but instead....

"n-no." you shake your head fast, voice shaky but with a hint of firmness behind it. "no, i don't want to stop. please."

"what do you need then? tell me exactly."

"i don't want to think. please, just— use me. i don't care. don't be gentle. i want it hard. i need it rough."

part of lewis regrets that he asked because holy fucking shit. sweet baby jesus. he doesn't recognize the sound that he makes, deep from his chest, filled with lust after hearing your dirty, desperate request.

on one hand, he's more than happy to fulfill your desire, knowing this is just going to be sex and nothing more. it's easier for the both of you in the future, knowing that this is a one time thing and absolutely no feelings would be involved.

but on the other hand, though lewis presents himself to the public and media as the calm and collected person you'd see on TV, but like every other man, he has his own wants and needs as well. and you have absolutely fucking idea what the hell you had just woken up inside him.

"fuck. fuck, you can't just fucking say that. you're fucking killing me, baby girl."

you moan at the nickname, then the volume becomes louder when you feel him pushing himself inside you slowly, one palm on a side of your head while the other is gripping your hip so fucking hard no doubt it'll bruised tomorrow.

you want it to bruise. and you know what you just asked of him. it's nothing like you had ever asked of a man before. to take you like a ragdoll for him to be used, to be toyed with whenever his please. to use you like you exist only and solely for his pleasure. because the thoughts that you are having about yourself are way worse. you want it to bruise, to hurt. you want to still be able to feel him for days. to have difficulties to walk so you will always be reminded of tonight. because at least your mind will be distracted from wandering to places you have been working so hard to avoid again.

lewis slides in easily but the stretch burns. you whine, fingers gripping the bedsheet tightly as you try to breathe properly in order to relax yourself so you can accommodate to his size, which is bigger than anyone you had ever taken. what he lacks in height, he certainly makes up for it in his length.

when he's fully inside, lewis gathers your hair before yanking it hard, making your neck arches back and you cry out. the pain in your scalp is weirdly delicious, combines with how he's making you feel so full having his dick deep inside, unmoving.

"say thank you." lewis demands, his tone no longer kind amd gentle like before, goosebumps prickle all over your skin. you never heard him using that kind of tone during work, never even imagine that he'd be the type to sound like that in bed. "thank me for fucking you."

"t-thank you."

"louder." he bottoms out before slamming into you hard, pulling a loud gasp from you.

"thank you!" you choke out.

lewis starts out slow at first, looking for the right pace. he remembers how you want it but he's not going to give it right away, out of care and of course pettiness.

but as he continues, he couldn't help but craving to hear more of those sweet bits of noises that you keep making. to hear the way your breath hitches at how he's filling you up to the brim, at how good he's fucking you.

lewis lowers his body, caging your body from behind but still careful not to crush you completely with his weight as his pace increases, ramming his cock inside you, his restraint getting thinner.

"take it. you want me to fuck you so bad? fucking take it. you asked for this." he grunts, and you whimper with no shame left in you. it's difficult to care, not when you could feel yourself getting dumber on his dick, which is exactly what you were asking for. and all this couldn't be more perfect.

lewis' movements grow harder, rougher by the minute. your moans mixed with his and the sound of his hips snapping against your ass echoes to the entire room. you wish you could be quiet, knowing that this whole hotel is rented by your entire team. but the way lewis is fucking you is making you do the exact opposite. you know he wouldn't want you to be quiet either, the mechanics be damned.

it's starting to be too much. nails digging into the bedsheet, you find your body inching forward. you are not sure if you are trying to run away or get closer to him but when lewis notices this, he grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head. his teeth nibbles against a specific spot under your earlobe, pulling another whine out of you.

"you can take it. fuck— good girls take what they asked for. you can do it."

your cunt somehow gets even wetter with his filthy words, at how his accent thickens, voice gets deeper and more hoarse. your pussy shouldn't be squeezing around his dick at his praises, but it did. and the grunts he lets out making it all worth it.

when he hits that sweet spot inside you that no other man has ever quite managed to find, your eyes roll back in ecstasy. you gasp, tears starting to fall again at the sweet pleasure you're experiencing.

the sex is perfect, you know lewis wouldn't disappoint. but your demon is back, suddenly haunting you and making you feel terrible about yourself again.

"what the hell do you think you're doing? oh, that's right. you wasn't. you aren't. you're just a dumb bitch making herself even dumber on this pathetic cock. if only you could see yourself. absolutely shameless. what a whore. begging for this man to fuck you like you never seen a dick before. nothing will ever be the same ever again. he will never look you in the eyes, he'll think of you differently. why didn't you just—"

lewis suddenly stops.

the voices do too, and you are left in confusion. his grip on your wrist is gone now and you didn't even notice. you turn your head, only to see him pulling out.

no. oh, no. no, no, no. the voices were right. he's pulling away. he's regretting this. he's gonna ask you to leave, isn't he?

"can i turn you on your back?" he asks instead.

silence from you for a few seconds before you let out a quiet "what?" before lying on your back on your own. you remove the pillow from under your belly and set it aside.

"you were crying." he points out, brows furrowing as a shadow of concern illuminating his handsome face.

you swallow. you were hoping he wouldn't notice and even if he did, he'd thought that it was because you were enjoying yourself this. the fact that he knows it was the opposite tells you that he knows there are million different things running in your mind right now and you hate it.

"y-yeah but it wasn't— not because of you."

pause. "you want me to slow down?"

again, you shake your head fast.

"i'm okay. please." you hate how quickly you beg for him again.

it's lewis' turn to swallow, his eyes darken slightly at your pleading. he nods before crawling back to you, determined to pick up where he left off, trusting that you will know what to say if you truly desire for him to stop completely.

he grabs one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist before bringing the other to his shoulder. you bite your lip at the way his gaze never wavers from you, making you wonder if he fucks every other girls like this.

no. fuck. stop it. why do you even care?

lewis takes his dick before burying himself inside you once more slightly easier this time. you can't help but moan and thanking him again.

he is slow again at first but it isn't long before his cock slams back at the perfect pace, the sound of skin against skin once again filling up this suite. your whimper mixed with his hisses when you claw on his tattooed back, pulling him closer.

lewis leaves kisses all over your leg, wherever he could reach before his hand sneaks up to fiddle and squeeze your bouncing tits.

you didn't expect him to wipe your tears next.

your eyes locked with his. he continues fucking you but it feels as if time has stopped. he has that look behind the lust that screams sympathy. pity. you hate it but at the same you don't push his hand away, letting him cup your face momentarily. but even lewis doesn't let this gesture happens for too long, always remembering the point of having you underneath him.

it doesn't take long until you feel an invisible knot in your lower belly. you're panting now, almost reaching your peak. lewis realizes this and he fucks you harder, his hand travels down to rub your clit.

"i'm—"

"i know, sweetie," he says, breathless as well. he lowers his body, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and kissing it all over as he feels his own orgasm nearing. "come for me."

a few more thrusts, and you see white. your mouth is agape as you moan silently. his grunt and groans is music to your ears as he spills himself inside the condom.

silence.

lewis never realized how much he needed this as well. not just the sex, but the connection, which he knows is insane to find with someone like you in circumstances like this but what just happened felt different. to be so close with someone he actually knows and not just another girl he calls to his room, not even bother to learn her name.

before he could gather his breath, he feels your body underneath him slipping out. his eyes feels heavy but he tries to hold on, watching you collecting your clothes and dressing back up.

"what are you—"

"that was really great. thank you." was all you said before you left, in a hurry like you refuse to spend another minute in the same room with lewis.

while the man is still on the bed, naked. he hasn't even removed his condom yet. a sigh escapes his lips, lying flat on the bed before staring at the white ceiling.

he did what you asked for, and he could only hope that you would feel better tomorrow morning.

and yet why does his heart suddenly aches, not having you in his arms anymore?

465 notes · View notes

jeonginsleftcheek · 11 months ago

Text

Stray Kids and specific things they adore about you

pairing: bf!ot8 x gn!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning/s: none? not proofread and i feel like i literally can't english today so sorry if there are mistakes!

a/n: tried to keep the reader gender neutral, hope this is okay! just something short while i work on my longer fics, enjoy!🩷

~check out my: Masterlist

Chan:

He adores when you talk about something you're passionate about. He loves when you get so invested, eyes wide in excitement, your hands making all sort of gestures, your whole body vibrating with happiness. Chan just melts when he sees you like that and he just wants to grab you, hold you tight and never let go. He smile is always so big when you're so enthusiastic and he looks lovestruck. You notice the way his eyes shine and you start feeling a little shy, asking him if he's even listening to you. And ofcourse he is, he can recite back everything you just said because that's how attentive he is towards you.

Lee Know:

Minho loves watching you get unready. Whenever you come back home from a date or a hangout with your friends, he follows you with his eyes as you take your coat and shoes off. He loves your little sighs of relaxation whenever you peel off anything restricting. He watches you as you take off your make up and you get a little self-conscious and ask,

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"- he smirks.

"Like you're mesmerized or something."- you smirk back.

"I don't know what you're talking about."- he grins and you shake your head, getting back to your skincare routine.

You can see his cheeks becoming rosy, eyes squinty as he smiles behind you in the mirror and your heart skips a beat.

Changbin:

He loves looking at your hands while you cook. I know, very specific but I feel like he admires the delicacy and the love you put into making food for the both of you. The way your hands move and look while you do something mundane like cutting veggies, cleaning the meat or grinding spices, I can just imagine him forgetting to actually help you as he leans his chin on his hand and just looks at you sweetly. You don't even notice at first since you're concentrated on what you're doing but then you hear a very loud dreamy sigh and you look at your boyfriend. The way he's staring at your hands makes butterflies swarm in your stomach.

"Binnie?"

"Mhm?"

"The pasta?"- you point towards the stove, since you put him on pasta stirring duty earlier.

"Whoops!"- he jumps up making you chuckle as you pat his butt, the butterflies still making a mess inside your stomach.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin loves watching you sleep, not in a creepy way, but in a 'my love is finally getting the sleep they needs plus they looks beautiful while literally just existing'. He admires you so much, loves your features, every single one of them. Where you see an imperfection, he sees pure beauty. He's mapping out every single detail about you, imprinting it in his mind because his romantic soul wants to savour every moment he has next to you. Sometimes he takes his sketchbook out and draws you or paints you. If you start to stir awake, he's by your side immediately, his lips pressing sweet kisses all over your face and you smile, still half asleep.

Jisung:

He loves when you hum or whistle randomly while listening to music. You first start humming and then singing quietly and you don't even notice it. But Jisung always does and he thinks you're adorable when you get into it and you're not even aware. Your body moves ever so slightly, like you tap your foot, your head moves a little and your fingers play a fictional piano on any surface near you. Sometimes that surface is Jisung and he chuckles at your cuteness, breaking your trance.

"Sorry."- you mumble, your face warming up in embarassment.

"Don't be. We were just getting to the good part. Keep playing."- he smirks.

The initial embarassment wears off because a few moments later both of you can't sit still and a dance party ensues right there in your living room.

Felix:

Whenever you concentrate while you're reading or doing something. That something could be you getting lost in thoughts while you clean up, you just vibing and doing your thing, like a hobby you have or you concentrated on counting his freckles while you cuddle. You're oblivious to just how much he observes you without saying anything. That's how he remembers all of your little habits, your brows furrowing, nail between your teeth when you get to a particularly interesting part of your book. How you push your hair back when it gets in the way. You always lose all your scrunchies so he keeps one on his wrist the whole time and he watches you struggle a little just because your little sighs of frustration are cute to him before he comes up behind you and helps you tie your hair. You lean your head back and smile at him and he chuckles and kisses your forehead.

Seungmin:

Seungmin loves to see you shine. And by that I mean if you're extroverted or just around friends you can be extroverted with and you're talking to them, having fun, maybe even commanding the whole room just by telling a story and making everyone laugh, Seungmin will be at your side looking at you proudly. He's always proud of you and mesmerized by how easy it is for you to be in the spotlight like that. He also takes pride in the fact that you're his, this amazing witty person, the person making everyone's heads turn is his partner. That boosts his confidence so best be sure that he will show you just how proud he is to call you his when you come back home.

Jeongin:

Opposite of Minho, Jeongin loves watching you getting ready to go out. He'll offer to help brush your hair or help you style your outfit. Problem is, if you have a hard time deciding between a few outfits, your usually fashion expert of a boyfriend will have a hard time helping you because you just look so perfect to him, no matter what you're wearing. At this point, he's making you change outfits on purpose just so he can look at you more before you two go out. He loves helping you choose your jewelry and will always add something of his. Like a ring, bracelet, watch, necklace... Anything, he loves sharing with you. If you decide to also add a clothing item of his, he will be smitten by you and his face will probably be red because he's so excited about sharing his closet with you.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg

1K notes · View notes

ahgasegotarmy116 · 4 months ago

Text

Desiring Defiance | Kim Taehyung | One Shot | Teaser

Summary: Taehyung as a Mafia Lord takes care of his own, but when his priority becomes you, imagine his surprise...and delight when he figures out you want nothing to do with him. Pairing: f!reader x Yandere Mafia Lord Taehyung (Contract Marriage) (Taehyung's pov) Word Count: TBD Warnings: Smut, Explicit Language, Weapons, Drugs, Violence etc. (I haven't finished it so I'll add more warnings when the full fic comes out) A/N: I wanted to get this out to see if there's any interest in this story since I usually write fics for Jungkook but I'll be writing it regardless. Just wanted to have an opportunity to get a taglist going if possible p.s. This is my first Mafia fic and it's barely edited so pls have mercy on me 🥲 Requested by @bluehaven143 💜

"I've scheduled the jet for your birthday and have alerted the local staff to be ready for your arrival" my assistant relays, my men and I having a leisurely meeting and therefore feeling comfortable sharing in front of them since they're usually a part of those plans.

"You should book this new stripper I found while we're there. I've heard that she leaves her patrons thoroughly…satisfied" one of them says, wiping his nose off after inhaling a line of a white powder that we all know leads to no good.

I wave him off, knowing if I let him run his mouth the suggestions will go from crude to vulgar if left unchecked.

"No stripper?" one of the guys chimes in, feeling as though he got a toy he was entitled to taken away from him.

"You guys aren't coming this year" I say after telling my assistant we'll discuss this matter later.

"What do you mean we're not coming?" another chimes in, looking utterly betrayed. "I have other plans in mind this year" I inform, loosening my tie, it suddenly feeling a little too tight.

"Who are you going with if not us?" another asks, the notion completely ridiculous from their self centered viewpoint.

"My wife" I say, pulling out my phone to check her location, seeing that she's still at the office when she was supposed to be home an hour ago making me sigh and stand up, the group raising to their feet as a sign respect.

"You mean the woman you paid to marry you?" one of them mumbles, making a bold statement leaving me chuckling darkly while shaking my head, my pace slow but deliberate as I walk up to him, resting my hand on his shoulder before drawing my gun seconds later and placing the barrel against his temple.

The cold steel on his skin makes him shudder, the implications of what just one single pull of it's trigger could do to his life. His very well being dancing in the palm of my hand, oh so tempting to snuff out but I show some restraint and press the gun a little harder against his temple making him lean over, trying to get away from the no doubt painful pressure.

All the rest of my men are frozen in place, knowing better than to intervene, very well aware that any sign of fear or questioning of my judgement could result in the intent to kill being pointed towards them.

"I suggest you watch your fucking mouth when you talk about my wife" I growl and he nods, apologizing profusely, sinking further and further down onto the floor, practically shaking in fear.

When I cock the gun I can see the way his body tenses up as he forgets to breathe, holding back the wince he no doubt wants to let out.

I stand there for a while, debating whether or not I should make an example out of him in the most extreme way possible, the sound of a pin dropping would resound through the whole room.

I ultimately decide to withdraw my gun, placing it back on my person, fixing my suit jacket and running my fingers through my hair, letting out a sigh.

"Take him out back" I say and turn to walk away, leaving his pleas for mercy to fall of deaf ears.

He should know better.

They all should know better than to question me, my wife or my judgement. Leaving me turning back to address the rest of the group once the guilty party has been taken away, his wails for mercy soon being exchanged for wails of pain, muffled by the door now separating us.

"My business with my wife is none of any of your concern. Plus, it's not like many of you remember the reason we go abroad at the end of the year anyways. So there's no need for you to be included" I sigh and they all turn their eyes down, disappointed but not surprised that this fate was cemented as a result of one man's sin.

"Make sure there aren't any loose ends I need to tie up while I'm gone…or when I get back" I say giving a pointed look to all of them, resulting in a unanimous sound of intent to do as they're told.

"Clean up my office. I don't want to see a single crumb or anything out of place when I get back" I say looking at one man in particular that has been crunching on a bag of chips since I walked in leaving him closing and setting it aside.

I leave with a unison farewell from all as I head to my car that's been pulled around front, waiting for me.

"Where to sir?" my driver Andrew asks once I get in the back seat, the only one I let speak freely in front of me. "My wife's office" I say leaving him humming.

"You don't approve?" I ask, cocking my brow at him through the rear view mirror, but he finds no fear in it.

"She's requested not to be disturbed until she's called for a ride home sir" he relays leaving me sighing, debating on whether or not I should respect her wishes.

She's always so stubborn when it comes to work and does everything she can to keep my claws from sinking into it.

I don't feel like listening tonight though, especially not after what happened.

I want to see her. I need to see her.

"Sir?" he asks, trying to see if I've changed my mind given the new information. "My wife's office" I repeat and sit back, knowing I'm making the wrong choice but I won't let anyone keep me from getting what I want.

Not even her.

~~~~

Please let me know what you think and comment or click the link to join the taglist <3

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater Taglist continued in the comments 💜

#taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts taehyung #taehyung bts #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #tae #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #Desiring Defiance #mafia au #bts mafia au #yandere #yandere taehyung

441 notes · View notes

ironstrange1991 · 6 months ago

Text

The Healing Touch

Pairing: Stephen!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The Reader has a terrible headache and Stephen goes full doctor mode to take care of her

Word Count: 4,1k

A/N: This fic is total self indulgent. The entire medical part is based on my experience with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. I had to take something positive from the whole situation. Hope you guys like it and have a nice reading ;)

You had never had such a bad headache in your entire life. It was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes and prevent you from working. It had all started with an allergy attack due to the renovation work in the office building where you worked. Even taking the anti-allergy medication you were used to taking, things only got worse and soon your airways were completely blocked and you had an incessant cough that made you want to vomit your guts out.

But things got worse when you woke up on Friday with a headache that simply wouldn't go away no matter how many painkillers you took. The persistent pain got worse over the days, reaching its peak on Monday morning. When you woke up, you simply couldn't open your eyes, and when you tried to get up, your head hurt with a piercing throb that made you sit down again and fall into silent tears.

It was a nightmare. Stephen was on mission and you hadn't been able to talk to him in the last few days. You were practically married to a doctor, but you couldn't count on him to help you when you needed it most and that only made you cry even more, giving in to despair.

After a few minutes you forced yourself to get up and staggered to the bathroom where you forced yourself into the shower, hoping that the cold water would somehow help you, but there was no improvement. As you were changing your clothes, feeling dizzy from the strength of the pain and the throbbing in your forehead, you decided that you would take a taxi and go straight to the hospital. By that point, your anxious mind was already telling you that you had a brain tumor.

You were slowly walking down the stairs, each step you took making your head ache even more, when you heard the familiar hiss of a portal opening in the entrance hall. You didn't feel excited, already imagining it was Wong and the light coming from the windows and the door barely allowed you to open your eyes to see anything, but then you heard a baritone voice informing you that it was Stephen who had arrived.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" His voice was a big relief, although it sounded extremely worried and as if by magic - which it was - he was by your side, helping you to put your arm around his neck and picking you up. He quickly went downstairs and took you to the nearest sofa in the main hall and knelt in front of you. Cloaky let go of his shoulders and flew nervously across the room, stopping behind the sofa and watching you.

Stephen's presence, although a relief, made you succumb to tears again.

"Hey, Y/n, look at me, tell me what's going on, you look pale. What are you feeling?" He asked, going into full doctor mode and forcing your eyes open so he could examine them.

"My head is exploding." You finally managed to speak. "It's been hurting since Friday, but today it's unbearable, Stephen. I can't handle the pain."

Stephen conjured a small flashlight to examine your pupils and then hummed to himself looking relieved. "The pupils are normal. That's good. Can you follow my finger, please?" He asked, raising his index finger to the level of your eyes and directing it to the left and then to the right slowly. You followed the movement with your eyes to which he praised.

"Very good. Now tell me how many fingers you see." He asked, showing you three fingers.

"Three."

"Very good. And now?" He showed you one finger.

"One."

"Good. One more time. How many fingers?" He asked, closing his fist.

"None."

He nodded, sighing in relief. But the small wrinkle that always appeared between his eyebrows was still there.

"How is your vision? Can you see perfectly or is it blurry? Any black spots or spots of light?"

You shook your head. "I can see, but I can't keep my eyes open because the light makes it hurt even more." You whimpered. "The pain is too bad, Stephen. I don't know what to do."

Stephen shushed you, putting the small flashlight aside and bringing his two thumbs to your forehead, positioning them just above your eyebrows and pressing them there in circular motions.

"Fuck." You hissed.

"I hit the spot, didn't I? Here is where it hurts the most?"

You nodded. "And inside of my eyes and on my cheeks. It feels like my whole face hurts. Even my teeth."

He hummed positively but remained silent, moving his fingers from your forehead to your cheekbones and down to the joint of your jaw, putting some pressure there.

"It hurts so much, Stephen. What if I have a brain tumor? Or... or an aneurysm? What if I have an aneurysm?" Your voice was getting shakier and shakier, and heavy tears fell from your eyes. "I don't want to die, Stephen. I don't want to." You said, clinging to him and hiding your face in his neck as you gave in to crying again.

Stephen wrapped you in his arms, one of his hands stroking your hair as he shushed you. "You're not going to die, sweetheart, and you don't have an aneurysm or a brain tumor." He said, trying to reassure you.

"But it hurts too much." You whimpered.

"I know. I'll make it stop. I promise. I'm here now. But you need to let me go so I can go to the drug store to get your medication."

But the idea seemed absurd to you and instead of letting him go, you tightened your arms around him even more, which made him grunt softly and pull your hands away gently.

"What you have is called sinusitis. It's a serious inflammation of the airways that causes secretions to build up in this region here." He explained, pulling you away enough so he could illustrate what he was saying. He ran his index finger along your cheekbones and above your nose. "Because of the inflammation, you feel pain here." He continued moving his finger down to your jaw. "That's why your teeth hurt too." You nodded.

"But why does my head have to hurt so much? I don't understand." You asked, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.

"Because the inflammation causes the facial muscles to tense up, which causes all the pain." He explained, standing up, but you held his hand tightly.

"Don't leave me alone. Please."

Stephen sighed. "I really need to go, love. The sooner you get your medication, the faster you'll get rid of the pain. Isn't that what you want?" He asked and you nodded, but kept holding his hand anyway.

"I had an idea. What if Clocky stays with you while I go, huh? Do you think that's a good idea?"

Before you could even answer, you felt the sentient relic moving excitedly behind you.

"It really loves you, you know?" Stephen insisted and you finally let go of his hand and watched him gesticulate with his head for the relic to come closer. Cloaky quickly flew over the couch and wrapped you in a comfortable hug. One of the things you loved about it - besides the fact that it was a magical piece of clothing that had thoughts and feelings just like Aladdin's carpet and you thought that was amazing - was that it smells like Stephen.

The warmth and soft touch comforted you somehow and you leaned against the back of the couch and curled your legs up trying to get as comfortable as possible.

"That's great, sweetie. I'll be back in a minute. I promise." He said and with a quick gesture of his fingers his robes were exchanged for jeans and a shirt and he walked quickly towards the door.

...

Stephen hated waiting in line. He had always been impatient, but ever since he learned the mystic arts he simply couldn't accept that there were things he couldn't solve with magic. Sure, he could open a portal and get the medication he needed, but that would be stealing and he considered himself an honest enough guy to do that. So there he was waiting in line at the checkout with a basket in his hand, waiting for the woman to pass the purchases of the person in front of him with an almost deliberate slowness while everyone in the drug store continued to stare at him in the strange way that everyone else stared at him when they recognized him.

When it was finally his turn, the woman named Katia looked at him with a sour face and said in a tedious manner, "Prescription, please."

Stephen sighed, "I don't have a prescription. I'm a doctor. The medication is for me." He lied shamelessly.

The woman cast a suspicious look at the basket and then at him. "I'll need to see your license."

Stephen sighed, letting his irritation show. "Come on, you know who I am. Everyone knows I'm a doctor."

"I'll need your license, sir."

Stephen sighed, taking out his wallet and opening it with difficulty because his hands were shaking more then usual. He took the document and showed it to her, then put it back.

"That's 145 dollars." She said, finally putting the boxes inside a plastic bag and handing it to him.

"Keep the change for the wonderful service." He said ironically, handing her the money and finally leaving the drug store and returning to the usual movement of Manhattan.

When Stephen finally returned home, it seemed like it had taken hours, but it had only been 25 minutes. He found you still in the same position, cuddled with Cloaky and with your eyes closed. He quickly moved his fingers, closing all the curtains in the room and approaching.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I tried to go as fast as I could..." He said and Cloaky gently pulled away from your hold and flew up the stairs.

He sat down next to you and conjured a glass of water and handed it in your hands while he opened the medication boxes and took out the pills and put in your hand.

"This is an anti-inflammatory, this one is an antibiotic and together they will cure the inflammation and relieve the tension."

You nodded, putting the two pills in your mouth and swallowing them with a sip of water. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that you didn't question him, just trusted him completely. He knew that a big part of that trust was because you loved him, but an important part was because you trusted him as a doctor and Stephen missed that. He missed being a doctor, having people's trust in that way and feeling good about being able to save a life or help someone in that way.

"This one is for the pain. It's a strong painkiller and should take effect within a few minutes. It will make you drowsy, though."

You took the pill and threw it in your mouth, swallowing it quickly while you poured the glass of water. Stephen smiled tenderly, taking the glass and placing it on the coffee table. Then he took a small bottle from the bag and opened it, showing you how to use it. "This one you spray twice in each nostril, and it will help decongest your nose and make you breathe better."

But instead of taking the bottle from his hand, you just got closer to him and put your head forward, waiting for him to apply the medicine to you. Stephen let out a small chuckle, feeling his chest get warm. You were so cute. Even in that situation that wasn't the least bit funny, you managed to be extremely adorable.

"There you go." He said, finishing the application of the medicine and putting them all back in the bag and placing the bag on the table. "Now come here." He asked, stretching out his arms so you could snuggle into his chest. “I think you need cuddles.”

He hugged you, gently resting his chin on the top of your head. "I'm sorry I wasn’t here for you, sweetheart. I hate these missions sometimes, especially when we can't communicate." He confessed. Deep down he was feeling extremely guilty about the situation, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. If he had been there, he would have diagnosed the problem sooner and spared you so much pain. After all, what was the point of dating a doctor if you couldn't count on him when you needed him most?

"You're here now. That's all that matters." You answered, lifting your head to look at him and it broke his heart to see your eyes red with tears like that. He cupped your cheek gently. "Can I kiss you? I heard that getting a kiss from me is the best medicine for sinusitis." He joked, managing to get a small smile from your lips.

"Kiss me all you want then." You said with a tired smile and he giggled, kissing you softly on the lips and then giving small kisses on your cheeks, on the tip of your nose, finishing on your forehead.

You hummed softly. "I love you, Steph." You said, laying your head back on his chest.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you can imagine." He confessed and you hummed again, but remained silent and he respected your silence. He knew that the pain you were feeling wasn’t small. Sinus headaches could be extremely painful, and you had endured it for as long as you could without asking for help. He only wished you had gone to the hospital sooner. He hated seeing you in pain.

...

You didn't realize you had fallen asleep until you woke up to the sound of soft voices talking. Stephen hadn't moved a muscle apparently, possibly to avoid waking you up, but now he was talking to someone.

"I'm glad she's okay now. Give her my best wishes when she wakes up." You heard Wong's voice and kept your eyes closed. The excruciating pain had passed, but your head was still sore and there was still a slight throb above your eyebrows.

"Are you going back to Kamar Taj yet?" You heard Stephen ask.

"Yes. Lots to do as usual. I'll let you rest for the night, Stephen. We'll talk tomorrow morning. Send me an update on Y/n when she wakes up." And as soon as he finished speaking, you heard the squeak of the portal opening and closing and then silence followed only by the sporadic sound of cars passing by on the street.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised to find the Sanctum plunged into darkness. A single lamp was on, emanating a dim light from the kitchen. You had no idea how many hours you had slept, but you were completely dizzy, probably due to the effect of the medicine. You yawned and rubbed your eyes slowly, noticing that the pain behind them had also diminished considerably. Stephen moved slowly and then stroked your hair.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?" His voice was hoarse and heavy with sleep, which made you wonder if he had fallen asleep too.

"What time is it?" You asked softly.

"Almost nine." He answered. "You've slept for almost ten hours."

You rubbed your eyes again and then looked at him in surprise. "You've been here this whole time?"

"I left you in Cloaky's care so I could shower and eat, but I basically spent the day on this couch. I ended up falling asleep too, which is a rarity. I woke up to Wong calling me and asking for a book."

You smiled to yourself. "I'm glad you got some rest too."

He hummed positively. "How are you feeling? Better, I hope."

You nodded, slowly lifting your head to look at him now that your eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"My head is sore, hurts a little, but the excruciating pain is gone."

Stephen smiled, cupping your cheek and stroking it slowly with his thumb. "That's great. But I'm afraid you'll need to take another painkiller now to give the anti-inflammatory time to kick in before the pain starts to come back." He explained.

"But if I take another one of those I'll sleep for another ten hours." You complained, to which he shook his head.

"I think a Tylenol will do for now. I'll get it for you." He said, threatening to get up, but you held him in place and cupped his face.

"Stay. Just a minute more."

He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll be back in a moment."

You let him go reluctantly, but took the opportunity to sit up. Your body was limp and you felt like you were slightly drunk, so you avoided getting up. Suddenly you saw your bag on the coffee table and remembered that you hadn't even texted your boss, but before you could think to do so, Stephen was back answering the question you hadn't even voiced.

"I called the office and told them you were sick. You're staying home tomorrow too, by the way. Doctor's orders."

You nodded, watching him approach. He was wearing gray pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair, always impeccable, was messy and a few strands fell over his forehead. He looked handsome as always, but you couldn't help but notice a nasty cut on his cheek that you hadn't noticed before.

"You're hurt." You said as he sat down next to you, handing you a Tylenol pill and picking up the empty glass on the table and handing it to you. With a simple gesture of his hand, the glass filled with water.

"It's nothing. Drink it."

You obeyed, and the whole time he looked at you with tenderness in his eyes, but the crease between his eyebrows was still there.

"I'm fine, Stephen. Really."

He nodded, taking the glass from your hand and placing it back on the table.

"Seeing you in pain was a horrible experience, Y/n. It made me think that I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, and I'm not just talking about illnesses. The work I do, the things I deal with are extremely evil. It makes me think about the risk you run by living with me."

You smiled, trying to ignore what he was saying, but deep down you knew he was right. Living in the Sanctum with the Master of the Mystic Arts was a risk, but one you were willing to take because you loved him. "Let's not think about that." You simply said. "I'm fine and you came back from your mission safe and sound. That's all that matters."

He nodded, taking your hand in his and promptly changed the subject. "You need to eat something before taking the next dose of medication."

"Pizza." You asked immediately, which made him giggle.

"I was thinking about a salad..."

"I thought I was going to die today from a brain tumor. Fuck the salad, I want pepperoni pizza with lots of cheese and chocolate ice cream for dessert."

Stephen smiled broadly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Whatever you say. I'll order and while we wait, I'll help you take a shower. What do you think?"

You nodded. "I don't think I can stand up on my own to do it anyway. Whatever you gave me made me totally dizzy."

"I told you it was strong, didn't I? But the important thing is that it took the pain away."

You nodded. "Thanks for taking care of me, Steph."

"That's what you do when you love someone, isn't it? You've taken care of me so many times, sweetheart. I lost count of how many times you patched me up after I came back from a mission. That’s what people who love each other do."

You smiled "I really do love you."

...

Stephen had never seen you eat pizza so eagerly and then devour two bowls of ice cream. It was cute. Even your childish palate was something he found adorable about you. He ate four slices of pizza himself and found himself having seconds of dessert, which he rarely did. After a day like the one you had, he was sure you both deserved the comfort of the food.

Finally, you got ready for bed and ended up in bed with the lamp on, giving the room a low, comfortable light.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked to confirm, but it was clear from the look in your eyes that the medication was taking effect.

"Better. I barely feel any pain, but my head is still sore."

He caressed your face, watching you settle into the pillows next to him. "It's normal after such intense pain. You'll be better tomorrow."

You smiled, biting your lower lip and making that little face you always did when you wanted something, but you didn't say anything, you just brought your hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in it and scratching gently. Stephen closed his eyes, indulging in the touch and only then noticing how tired he was. The mission had been energetic, it had been a really hard few days that had taken a lot out of him physically and although he had managed to sleep for an hour or two, he could feel the exhaustion taking over him.

"Hm, it feels so good." He found himself confessing as he melted into your touch. "I missed you, sweetheart. Every day all I could think about was that I wanted to go home." He opened his eyes to see you smiling sweetly at him and slowly you snuggled closer to him as he automatically reached out to hold you impossibly close.

You cupped his cheek and pulled him to your lips, kissing him slowly, but with a growing desire. "I missed you too. I had plans for when you got back. I wanted to surprise you with a special dinner, but it wasn't possible." You said and he smiled reassuringly.

"Well, even though the day wasn't the most pleasant, it's safe to say we had a special dinner tonight. The pizza was very good." He said smirking.

"But there was something else I wanted to give you when you got back." You said, hooking your leg around his hip teasingly and Stephen soon understood what you were up to, but even though he wanted it as much as you did, he was forced to reason.

"Unfortunately, it's not a good idea, sweetheart, even though I really want it."

You frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why not? After the day I've had, don't I deserve a little affection?"

Stephen nodded with a smile. Of course you did. You deserved everything you wanted and he believed he deserved it too after the mission he had just returned from, but it wasn't always possible to get what you deserved. "Trust me, you do, but I don't want to risk making your headache worse."

You stared at him, not understanding what one thing had to do with the other, and he chuckled, trying to explain in a way that made sense.

"Remember what we talked about the tension in your facial muscles making your head hurt?"

You nodded.

"When we make love and you have a good time, which is always, I hope, the pleasure makes you tense the muscles of your entire body, even those on your face and especially during orgasm, which could lead to an orgasmic headache."

You rolled your lips, trying not to laugh. "Did you just make that up?"

Stephen let out a soft laugh. "Of course not. I'm serious. It's a real problem that you don’t have, but given the sinusitis, orgasm could be a trigger for a worsening of your condition."

You buried your face in his neck, laughing softly, and the sound was very welcome after he had seen you crying in pain earlier. "Believe me, I would never make that up, especially since I'm climbing the walls after so many days without sex."

"It hasn't been that many days." You contradicted him. "But I believe you, as stupid as it may seem. I just hate this fucking sinus thing even more now." You groaned.

"Your treatment will last five days, but after that we will have plenty of time to make up for it, trust me."

You sighed, lifting your head to look at him. "You'll have to make it up to me tonight with lots of kisses."

Stephen smiled. "As many as you want, sweetheart." He said, pulling you back to his lips.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

BACK TO DOCTOR STRANGE MASTERLIST

BACK TO MAIN MASTERLIST

Tag List: @withalittlehoney @thelostsmiles @thealleydog @anadlockfan @dementeddoll @strangesgirls @dontmindme262 @iamsherlocked1479 @rmoonstoner @sassenach-on-the-rocks @dragonqueen89 @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @wickedscribbles @agathassscribbles @captaincarmel416 @hobimysolecito @geeky-politics-46 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @bobateadaydreams @pinkthick @groovy-lady

@doctorstrangelovemusic-blog @rachelessfreedom-world @ppatricia34me @strangesgirls @dreamxonxx @benaddictcumberpatch @iamsherlocked1479 @veryladyqueen @notglucose @wickedscribbles @agathassscribbles @rmoonstoner @nicoletk @azu21 @harlekin6 @coffedraven

@dontmindme262 @dementeddoll @yourmajesty13 @strangeions @bloodyflowerrr @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @dragonqueen89 @newtsniffles @xourownsidee @kakashibabe02 @hobimysolecito @geeky-politics-46 @lykaonimagines @d0ct0rstrangewife @classickook @iobsessoverfictionalmen @bobateadaydreams @aphroditesdilemma

@thealleydog @anadlockfan @pinkthick @loverofallbroken @butchers-girl @ironstrangeheart @asgards-princess-of-mischief @slytherinqueen4life @spideybv28 @pxanonymous16-blog @kinavet

623 notes · View notes