#Aircon Engineers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whorrorbellee · 4 months ago

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ANGELS OF PORN

DARK! Aemond x pornstar! Reader

$10,000 LOOKING FOR DOED EYED PRETTY GIRL WHO WANTS TO MAKE A QUICK BUCK. ONE TIME PORNO, MUST BE OKAY WITH LIGHT SLAPPING, ROUGH SEX AND CHOKING. SEND A PHOTO.

WARNINGS; rough sex, slapping, choking, major character death. blood, oral? mood board

He's watching you undress in the back of the RV through the mirror, It's all hazy. Pulling on white socks, frills spilling over the brown couch in the back. ‘Trailer trash scum’ is what Aegon said, pressing white knuckles into the steering wheel, as he huffed onto a cigarette. He couldn't wait to see your blood spill over the pretty whites. He's not religious but he could see himself worshipping your body, under tight lips and pretty prayers. Rotten. Groomed into a cult over Myspace and 4chan. He piqued his own interest after seeing the gore videos of pretty girls' necks slashed open in orgasm. La petite mort. He wants to see how far Aegon is gonna take it. And now you're living and breathing in front of him. Thick ringlets, soft perfumed skin, He starts to wonder if he can go through with it. You smile at him as you catch his eye.

Ten grand for a porno on Craigslist, an hour after the ad had come up your pretty picture had been burned into the cornea of Aemonds eye. The Perfect slut. Pink-lipped, wide-eyed doll. Picked up at the gas station. He watched you hum into a cigarette, your eyes trailing over him. He waited for the disgust to glaze across your eyes, but you pulled him into a handshake. Winking as you hopped into the RV with a sway of hips. Aegon only grinned up at him. Gapped teeth. He ran his hand over his shaved head. Stretching his arms out and then pulling straights out of his cargo.

You run your hand over Aemonds shoulder, head dipping into the crook of his neck and pulling his lighter into your hand. He swallows, you watch his shoulders fall and he unzips his Adidas jacket as the aircon falters. He shrugs it off. You light your cigarette and then stare into Aegons eyes, crinkled at the corners he's smirking to himself. You're thinking he's ex-army, wearing a tribal band around his arm, smooth and precise movements.

“What you gonna do with’the money?” Aegon mutters. His fingers are pointed as he takes the ciggie into his mouth, lips snarling as the smoke escapes, you watch the muscles in his arm flex.

Your glossed lips part, “put’a bad man away”

“Get a lawyer, huh?” Aegon hums, he rolls the window down, and spits, throwing the butt out the window with it. You watch Aemonds face. He stares back at you through a half-lidded eye, you smirk down at him. Watching his fingers clench at his hoodie.

“Som’thin like that” you smile, and you pull away from Aemond, lighting your own cigarette. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke through parted lips. His gaze never leaving yours, the silence between you heavy. Aemond reaches a hand out to the radio, Dolly Parton filling the silence. He looks up to the mirror, eye fixed on your body as you walk away. Hips shifting the denim shorts you're wearing. You lean over the counter and pull out some mascara from your bag. The RV sways on the uneven road. Lurching to the side, Aemond grips onto the seat and watches you unfazed through the mirror. You smile, shiny white teeth, lopsided grin as you apply blush to the end of your nose, his lip curling into a smirk at the sight of your infectious grin. He finds it amusing, the contrast between the innocent action and the situation you're in.

Aegon pulls into the 24-hour Diner by the highway, The neon sign buzzing like trapped flies. He watches as Aegon shuts off the ignition. The hum of the engine dying out. The Diner is half empty, the bell ringing against the sound of patrons chattering in the night. Aemond can feel the anticipation building in his chest. They had discussed a last meal before the cameras had switched on, and the time had come quicker than expected. Heat pools in Aemond's stomach, and his hands shake with excitement. Aegon opens the driver's door and steps out, the night air rushing in with him. He stretches, his shirt rides up, and exposes the lower part of his back as his muscles tense. Aemond's eyes flick back to you. He watches you watching Aegon through the mirror. He can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance, a brief pang of possessiveness that he quickly shoves down. You smile at him, stepping out of the RV. Cool air tousling your hair. Skin bright against the neon sign. He follows you out. Gravel crunching under his shoe.

Warm cheap food fills your nose. Your shoes squeak against the linoleum tiles as you slip into a red booth. You're bathed in yellow light, pressing shoulder blades into the cool leather. Aegon follows sitting opposite you, Aemond sliding next to him. You run your hand over the sticky table, waiting for someone to take your order. Lips pouting. A waitress approaches the table, her expression bored and tired, but her eyes widen as she looks at you, taking in your looks and the way you're dressed. Aemond can see the way her cheeks flush slightly, the way she fumbles with her pen as she turns to the three of you. "What can I get ya'll?" She asks, her voice a southern drawl.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes running over the food kept behind glass, “A slice of that cherry pie and some coffee please” you smile sweetly.

She turns to Aegon, his fingers drumming against the table. Her eyes flickered over the tight muscles under his green shirt. “For you hun?”

“Bacon and egg sandwich extra runny” he grunts, eyebrow raising.

Her eyes turn to Aemond, he orders an omelet and a coffee, voice low and soft. The waitress leaves, feet pattering against the floor as she hurries off. Aegon lets out a low whistle, eyes raking across your body.

“You're just as pretty as your picture aren't you?” Aegon mutters, his head nodding at you. He's practically salivating over you, eyes hungry. You look at Aemond watching as he clenches his jaw tighter. Aegon laughs, a sound deep and guttural. He leans across the booth, his hands wrapping around the edges, his face just inches away from yours. He's invading your space, but you don't flinch, your expression bored, almost amused. He sticks his tongue out, letting it linger over his bottom lip as he grins. "Sweet little thing like you, huh?" He coos.

“I'm not that sweet’can tell you that now” you smirk, eyelashes batting across your cheeks.

You watch as Aegon’s grin widens he lets out a low chuckle. “Bet you taste real sweet though” his eyes dance over your body. Aemond clenches his hands under the table, knuckles turning white. He notices the way you handle his crude advances. Not bothered by dirty innuendos.

The waitress sets down the food without care, plates loudly clattering against the table top. Aegon barely acknowledges her, gaze still fixed on you. You stare ahead, lips pursed. You sip on your coffee unbothered "Ain't gonna eat, darlin'?" Aegon asks, finally breaking his gaze to look at his food. His tone is laced with an underlying darkness, a hint of danger. Aemond can tell he's getting impatient, his fingers drumming against the table.

“I like getting fucked on an empty stomach” you smile. Aemond pauses, fork midway to his mouth he's barely digested your words before Aegon snorting with laughter. Slapping his knee at the comment. Eyes glittering with sick excitement. You're starting to get real bored with Aegon, it's one crude comment after another. The pattern has already been memorised in your head. You roll your eyes. “I'm gonna go to the ladies” you slide out the booth hand brushing over Aemond’s shoulder. He watches you slip to the side to let a lady exit the toilets, then you duck behind the door yourself.

Aegon turns back to his meal. Shoving bacon and egg into his mouth. Yolk escapes the corner of his lips. He chews obnoxiously. “Cant wait to fuckin kill’her” he mutters, sly grin playing on his lips. “Make our own fucking movie for those sick freaks” Aemond only nods in return.

“Too bad Reaper couldn't make it”

You walk back to the booth, shrugging on a small knit jumper. Aegon slaps down bills on the table, they exit the dinner and you trail behind them as you light another cigarette. Orange embers glowing in the darkness. Aegon leads the way, keys jangling in his hand. You step into the RV, air humid. Aegon follows, Aemond shuts the door behind him. He feels his heart thudding against his chest.

The RV engine rumbles to life, and the vehicle lurches forward. Headlights pierce through the darkness, bathing the road in a pale glow. The trees on either side of the road cast long, sinister shadows against your face as Aegon drives further into the slip road of the forest.

You gaze up at Aemond, his dark gaze locking with yours. He watches you intently. The RV is quiet except for the hum of the engine and the soft sound of you exhaling smoke from your cigarette. The engine falls silent, as you pull up onto gravel, Aegon is the first to get up, seat creaking as he stands. Aemond waits, his muscles tensed, his eyes fixed on you. You extinguish your cigarette in the small ash-tray, the smoke curling up towards the low ceiling. You seem unfazed by the situation, your eyes still fixed on Aemond as you rise from the sofa. Aegon turns on the headlights and the area is flooded with a harsh, artificial light, he's already opening the rv door. The cool night air flooding into the vehicle. The light from outside casts a rectangle of light on the carpeted floor, illuminating the space in a pale, artificial glow.

You're standing in the middle of a small clearing, the trees like black sentinels around you. You look like a creature of the night, the shadows dancing across your face. Angelic even.He grins, his eyes roving over you like a wolf sizing up its prey, watching you run and strip off layers of clothing, tossing them aside. Standing there in nothing but your white lace underwear, your body fully exposed in the harsh light.

Aemond watches from outside the RV, his eyes growing dark as he takes in the sight. His jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists. He knows what's coming, he feels his blood boil in excitement. Blood thirsty. Aemond moves towards you, his hands grazing over your bare skin. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he's touching something he shouldn't. Despite the situation, he can't help but feel a sense of possession, a need to protect you. He steps behind you, his chest brushing against your back. He places his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “Are we rollin’ yet?” you ask. Pulling loose hairs away from your face.

Aemond's face disappears behind a black ski mask, his features obscured in shadow. He pulls the fabric taut, making sure it covers every inch of his face. He looks different now, the mask making him seem dangerous, savage. His eyes burn with a cold, detached anger, a stark contrast to his gentle touch on your skin. You pant against his touch, mewling in soft brushes. Turning to face him.

“We are now sweetheart” Aegon mutters, you watch his eyes disappear behind a vhs camcorder.

Aemond's breath hitches as your lips caress his neck. He can feel your hot breath on his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. His hands on your hips tighten, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

The camera recording every gasp and sigh. You're putting on a show for it, for Aegon, for Aemond.

Your hand slides beneath Aemond's wife beater, your fingers caressing his bare skin. His grip on you tightens, his muscles taut under your touch. A soft moan escapes his lips, muffled by the ski mask.

You smile up at him. Flashy shiny whites. He runs a hand over your cheek. Your face presses into it. And then he's yanking his hand back, snapping against you cheek in a sharp movement. Your head is snapped to the side. You look up and smile at him through wet eyelashes. A silent plea for more. Your cheek is hot against his palm.

“Shit that's hot”, Aegon mutters. You don't look at him, all your attention is on Aemond. You watch his mask shift, muscles moving under the black fabric. His face moves closer to yours, your arms wrap around his neck, peppering kisses over black cotton, you feel him smirk against your lips. His hands grab at your wrists from behind and suddenly he's wrestling you to the ground. You whine, pressed into the mud, you feel aemond’s body from behind. Belt buckle stabbing into your lower back. Your feet kick upwards. His leg pins you to the ground. You squirm beneath him, your ass grinding into his crotch. Aemond lets out a soft hiss. Your every movement driving him wild. You feel his body responding to your touch. His cargos grow tighter and you feel his hardness press into you from behind. You smirk. He fights the urge to grind down on you.

“Dirty, Fucken’slut huh” he mutters, his hands tracing your spine, pushing you into the grass. Your head turns to the side, revealing a sly grin. You hum in agreement. Growing limp in his arms, and then you pout up the camera, eyebrows raising, your lip shakes. He watches Aegon. He clenches his jaw, watching in anticipation, chest rising quicker as you bite your lip up at him.

“Keep goin”Aegon barks out. The red light flashes towards you. You feel Aemonds grip grow tighter.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” You taunt. Your hips jerk backwards, Brushing against his hard cock “ I know you want to” you sing out, it's like a melody to his ears. He flips your body in response. Back hitting the grass. Your hair lays out like a halo behind you. You run your hands over his chest and press kisses into his neck. Watching as he unbuckles his belt hastley. You nip and bite at warm flesh, pulling your legs from underneath him, brushing past his dick. He lets out a soft hiss. Pulling your body towards him. He sheds your panties and bra. Groping at the flesh he's unveiled. You look so radiant like this. Skin glowing under the headlights of the RV. The tension is palpable between you. He imagines slicing through your skin with a knife and burying his hand inside to feel the heat of your heart. Feel its last beats drum through your chest.

Not yet.

His cock runs through your wetness, your back arches against him, feeling the head of his dick knock against your clit, his hand runs up the column of your chest and settles on your neck. He pushes into you, slitting you apart with his thickness, you hum at the intrusion. Wide mouth, eyes closed. His hand squeezes at the base of your neck, you feel the blood flow to your head lessen. Dizzy in his hold. He moves slowly. Torturously slow, head knocking against your cervix. You wince. And then feel his cock slide against the gummy walls. He's quicker driving into you with such force you feel what little air you have get knocked out of you. He grunts against your neck, your eyes water. Feeling the camera closer to your face. You fake a moan. Running your hand down the side of your face and then down Aemonds back scratching at taunt muscles

Laid out like a sacrificial lamb pliant and malleable under his hands. The type of innocence that bites back. “Fuck” you moan out from under him, griping him tightly. You feel him pulse. Hips snapping, into yours, your face reddens. His vice grip around your neck softens, and he pushes two fingers inside your mouth,

. Aegon watches as he smears spit around your face, trailing the wetness down your neck and the valley of your breasts.

“Shit, tight fucking pussy”Aemond moans, low and deep. You're turned on your back, and he slams himself back into you, arm around your waist the other makes its way to your neck, back arching till you're propped up against his chest, head lulling in the crooks of his neck. Sweaty bodies against each other,You tighten around him as he coos at your whines. “You close huh”

You smile against him. “yeah, fuck so good” it rolls of your toungue so quickly, you squeak. He grips your throat and you watch as Aegon nods at him. You turn to Aemond staring into his eyes. His hips falter. Eyes shutting quickly but his hands don't leave you. Grunting as he comes, And then you look back to Aegon eyes running over his body, he's hard. Your eyebrow raises at him. “You gonna let me suck your dick?” you bat your lashes watching Aegon smirk. Aemonds hands tighten on your body at your words, hands slipping down to rub your clit in tight circles. Your eyes roll backwards, body shaking with blissful pleasure. You come down from your high. Aemonds hand runs down your sweaty face, his eyes darken as they watch Aegon pull his cock out from his cargos. You crawl over to him. Eyes on the camera. You kneel at his feet, the cameras passed into Aemonds hands. It just cuts off his face.

You run your hands over his body, pressing kisses down his pelvis. Then you shrug his cargos half down his legs, he beacons Ameond closer with the camera as you stare up at him. Running your tongue against the length of his cock. He pushes your head closer to his dick. Aemond watches as your hands grab at something, but your face remains stotic, too involved with Aegon's dick. He clenches his jaw and suddenly Aegons falling backwards onto the grass, something running down his leg and then he spots it. Shiny silver.

The buck Aegon chose a week ago in the hunting store. His eyes widen, his hands falter with the camera. He watches you straddle him, you look back at Aemond, your face stern. “Come on, keep the tape rolling I thought you wanted to make a snuff film” your head cocks to the side running your hand over Aegon's lips. You smile down at him. Your hand reaches behind you to the leather handle of the knife. He yelps as it slides to the side in his skin. And then you're yanking it side to side,out from his leg. He whimpers in pain, hands going out to grab at your hair. You push the knife to his neck, Aemond stands moving closer to you. Camera shaking in his hand. He's so bewildered by what's before him he doesn't even think to knock you off his brother's lap. Not that he'd want to.

He watches the blood spurt out of his leg angrily,“Who the fuck are you?” Aegon gasps. Your mouth curves into a smile. The knife traces the column of his neck , over his Adam's apple. You watch thin dribbles of blood mark up the white expanse of his neck. Your body shadows over his face. Perfect silhouette encased in a halo of light. “Aemond do something!” his eyes flick towards his brother. And your hand grips his chin harshly pulling him up until the knife is digging into his neck.

“Your brother is too pussy drunk to help.” you look into Aegons eyes, perfect swirls of purple, his face pale and sweaty, “Isn't it so sweet? He would have thrown a punch if I asked, hours before I let him have a taste” you chuckle at your words. Reaching behind you to plunge fingers into the open wound. He screams out at the intrusion. Tears escaping his eyes. You push a finger into your mouth and then pull it out with a pop “see i’d lie and say you tasted so sweet, real sweet. But you’re fucking rotten” you spit.

You stand. Running your hands through your hair. The movement is soft and innocent in contrast to what you've done, you sigh. Turning to Aemond, your eyes softening. Your hand peels off the ski mask. Your hand smooths his hair back tenderly, “Like we planned, yeah?” you smile and then your hand traces over the scar he was left. He smiles, eyes closing at your touch. Hand reaching out to pull the knife from your hand.

“You fucking planned this!” Aegon shouts at the realisation, his face is pale at the blood loss, and Aemond drops the camera in response. He turns to you, capturing your lips quickly. He can taste the blood on his tongue. Warm, metallic. You're right, he is rotten. He smirks and turns to his brother. He grips the knife tightly in his hand. You press a kiss to his shoulder and them watch him stalk over to him.

The camera is heavy in your hands as you lift it from the grass. You kneel next to Aegon. Aemond grips at his hair pulling him from the ground and then lets the knife cut through his skin like paper. You watch Aegon panic. His hands reaching out to stop the bleeding but they only fall into his lap. The blood falls like a red scarf. Coating the grass and his body like blanket. And then his eyes still. His lips left open in a wide panic. Aemond drops his body to the floor. Hand grasping for yours. He pulls you in for a kiss over his body. You feel him shake in euphoria. Hands running down the length of your bare body

He pulls away“ I don't want anyone touching you again” his hand leaves a bloody print against your cheek. “Got it, Reaper?”

You smirk up at him. “Yeah.”

You pull your hand towards your face, it still stinks of lye as much as you scrub at it. You inhale the cigarette, eyes glazing over to Aemond, one hand on the wheel. The other runs against the soft flesh of your thigh. You smile at his touch. Hand clasping as his own. The sun casts a honey light on his face, hair lighting up golden. The RV pulls up along the side of the road and he pounces on you like a dog. “Fuckin’ perfect, and all for me”

@spn-obession

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #dark!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #dark!aemond x reader #modern!aemond

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soyaei · 9 months ago

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car rides with nanami is always relaxing and calming.

You two are on your way to go back to your home. When you got in the car, you immediately made your seat flat so you could lay down and close your eyes.

Today was a tiring day, but at least the tripple date with satoru, suguru, and haibara was fun. You guys just went to a mall thats located at the city in the state you guys live in. The girls, including you, shopped like there was no tomorrow. Each of you spending your man’s money, but its not like they care, anything for their pretty girls.

“kento.. could you grab a blanket for me?” you said with a tired voice. There was a traffic jam right now, mostly because its the time when people clock out of work, it was already 8pm.

“Here you go, are you cold? I can turn off the aircon.” Nanami said while brushing some of your hair away from your pretty face.

“No, its okay. gon’ sleep for a while.” after you said that, you immediately yawn. Nanami helped you fixed the blanket.

“Sleep well baby” he kissed forehead and you drifted off to sleep.

Nanami parked the car and turned off the engine. Getting out of the car and opened your door, picking you up effortlessly but also carefully to not wake you up, good thing your a deep sleeper. He tucked you on your shared bed, before walking out of the house again to fetch your stuff that you bought from the bonnet of the car.

Finally, he joined you for bed. He took of his shirt, then wrapped his muscular arms around you. He whispered in your ear before falling asleep.

“Night baby, love you.”

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blubushie · 5 months ago

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10am and back on my bullshit in light of Recent News.

So I'm gonna bitch about Sniper's camper a little (such as things it realistically would and would not have), and explain some things!

...While using Tilly of course. Camper anatomy course!

For comparison, this is Sniper's camper.

Now, for my issues and corrections with this...

The biggest thing that I notice in canon camper is the extreme lack of windows. Sniper's camper, given the timeline, would be a 60s-era model. Most 60s-era campers did not have air conditioning as their roofing wasn't strong enough to support the weight of an aircon. As you can see by looking at the roof of the camper, his does not have aircon. To make up for the lack of this, you need AIRFLOW or the camper becomes a dangerously high-heat oven. This means his camper would have multiple windows with flywire, not vents, to allow for airflow, and also a greater number of windows than is on the canon model. I will note that the venting front nook window is pretty cool though, and I've never seen one.

Sniper's camper would probably not have a shower, as there's not enough room for one. See how little it hangs off the tailgate? It has a toilet though. ALL campers that hang off the tailgate like that have a toilet. Also, despite Sniper's camper defo having a bathroom, it lacks a bathroom vent for some reason.

Sniper's camper lacks jacks?? I assume this is an oversight due to modelling reasons for SFM, and not that he took the jacks off. The jacks are necessary for maintenance purposes.

The tops of campers are always flat and I don't know why his Does That. I'm deciding it's stylistic reasons cuz otherwise he wouldn't be able to get in bed.

On that note—Sniper has a queen-size bed. I know it doesn't look like one, but trust me, that's a queen-size bed. No I don't care about the internal model that they never planned for anyone to see. It might be a bit cramped in the length department because he's a tall cunt, and it might be a bit cramped in the height department (there's not even a metre of headspace off the bed), but it's not cramped in the "If I roll in any one direction I will fall out" department, I assure you.

I'm not gonna fuss about the water fill hole or the heater or nothing, or the lack of LPG signage. I assume the lack of them is the same reason as the lack of jacks.

Ok, now for some general notes for people who don't know much about campers...

Campers from this era are entirely powered off the vehicle they're attached to. There's something called a pigtail, basically a long bundle of wire, that connects the truck to the camper and provides power, lights, etc. Some modern campers have space, usually under the sink, for a car battery to attach so you can power the camper off a separate battery without the use of a vehicle, but all campers from this era are powered by car battery through the pigtail only. THIS MEANS THAT IF YOU RUN YOUR BATTERY TOO OFTEN YOU WILL BE STRANDED AS YOUR CAR WILL NOT START. Ever leave your headlights on? A lot of people would get around this by using deep-cycle batteries (which are rechargeable), and they usually kept a spare. Or two. Some vehicles, like the Ford Camper Special line, allowed room for two car batteries in the engine bay to specifically get around this. Ideally one battery would be your starter, and the other would be a deep-cycle that everything ran off of. This would prevent you from draining your car's battery, and as deep cycle batteries recharge while you're driving, this works great. Other people (like me) use deep-cycles ONLY, and recharge the batteries by cycling them out as needed.

To use your stove you have to go outside, open the LPG panel, turn the valve on your propane tanks until it's loose, then go back inside, wait a few minutes, turn on the propane ON THE STOVE, and then light your pilot light (if you have a pilot light, most campers from this era do not) or light your burners individually. When you're done cooking or wharever, you have to go back outside and turn off your propane. If you do not do this your propane will leak while you drive.

You have to turn on the water by turning on the water pump, this requires electricity. Most campers have an overhead panel somewhere near the kitchen to do this. Others have it under the sink.

Most campers can be powered without battery as long as you have an electrical source!! See the "camper city power" panel—this allows you to plug in an electrical cord directly into the camper to power it off that instead of off your truck. Downside—this requires an electrical outlet. It's really only used when a camper is home and someone is living out of it, or when someone is camped at a powered campground (like an RV park), which are extremely rare because most RV parks do not allow jack-on campers. I've only ever used this plug at home. 😅

Campers run on fuses. Given the era, Sniper's camper would probably run on old SFE glass fuses, likely 20As (mine runs on SFE-20As across the board).

There will be a part 2 to this showing the interior layout and what that's like when I get around to it later today.

#sniperposting #tf2 #sniper tf2 #ford blu

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year ago

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Bad For Business: Level Eight

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6k] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutual annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

The storm was unexpected and not forecasted, a monsoon rolling through a July afternoon that went almost unnoticed inside of the arcade. The windowless building didn’t show signs of the rain, nor the dark skies, but by the time the last of the kids left, the rush of a downpour and the rumble of thunder could be heard from the open door.

And once you’d cashed up and pulled your bag from your locker, you let your workmates out the door before you locked it behind you, hearing their goodbyes yelled over the din of the rain as they ran through puddles to their cars, their parents' minivans.

Your bike was chained to a railing ten feet away, away from the shelter of the door awning, placed perfectly in the middle of a puddle that was growing into a small lake. You squinted into the gloom, splatters of rain water sticking to your skin, already humid and sticky from the lingering heat.

Then a car pulled up in front of you, a maroon BMW with shiny alloys and a pretty boy behind the wheel, one you hadn’t seen all week after you’d kissed him stupid in the photo booth. The window rolled down and Steve appeared more clearly, shirt dotted with rain, hair messy from the wind. He was looking at you carefully, maybe warily, maybe nervously.

But then he nodded to the empty passenger seat. “Get in.”

You didn’t hesitate, not the way you would’ve done weeks ago, chin tilted high and haughty, ready to tell Steve Harrington you’d rather swim home than accept a ride from him. But Chrissy had come back from being off sick and Murray had switched up the schedule. You hadn’t seen Steve in a while, not since the kiss, not since he’d had his hand tucked under your knee and hitched your thigh to his hips.

Not since his tongue had been against yours.

Not since he’d whispered your name, a gasping, rough sound that you didn’t think Steve knew he made.

Not since you discovered that you made Steve Harrington hard.

Not since you realised you wanted to do it again and again and—

You got in the car.

The inside of the BMW smelled like Steve, like cedar wood cologne and mint gum, like expensive leather and the half full coffee in the cup holder. You were almost soaked through from the dash across the sidewalk, shirt wrinkled to your body, unnecessary sunscreen and rain water sticking to your skin.

The radio was low, a murmur, the sound of the rain on the roof louder than anything. Steve nodded at you when you finally looked at him and then he shifted gear, pulling away from the arcade and into the storm.

Steve drove you through town without much talking, his fingers twisting the controls on the radio, the sounds of Tears For Fears mixing with the rain on the windshield, the hum of the aircon. You didn’t have to tell Steve where to go, you didn’t have to tell him your address. He drove through the streets, kicking up water as he went, heading towards the familiar row of houses not too far from his own. And just before he turned into the lane, you swallowed hard, not wanting to leave just yet. There were things to say, you were sure of it. You just didn’t know what.

But Steve beat you to it, pulling over in a corner shaded by tall oak trees, at the edge of the sidewalk where the road met a park that was only used for teenage make-outs and underage drinking. It was quiet, empty, and you changed a look at the boy when he killed the engine and the music.

Steve looked different away from the neon lights and despite the storm, it still felt too quiet without the sounds of the arcade. It was too loud without the alarms, the jingles. Too bright despite the grey. It was overwhelming.

“Steve, about last week— what happened, I—”

The boy interrupted you before you could go on, a hand that paused as it made its way to reach over to you, hovering over your thigh, like he decided it wasn’t a good idea. Until he did, Steve’s fingers curling around the skin above your knee and your gaze found his, lips parted in surprise and you watched him think - just for a second - before the words were tumbling from his mouth with anymore hesitation.

“I’ve not stopped thinking about it,” Steve murmured, sounding a little dazed, quiet under the blanket of rain, the sky through the windshield a hazy lilac-grey and god, the world felt fuzzy, it felt soft. “Like, at all. Fuck, I don’t know, I just— I just.” Steve licked his lips, letting his gaze drop to yours. “Wanna do it again.”

The air seemed to disappear from the car. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

“If you’ll let me,” Steve finished, nervous and quiet and unlike you’d seen him before, his eyes unsure as he made his way back to his own seat, his hand retreating from your leg.

You didn’t let him get far, your hand wrapping around his wrist to keep him close, leaning forward in your chair to meet him over the console, noses almost brushing. You shared the same shaky breath and outside, the rain fell harder.

“We don’t like each other,” you tried to remind him, but the words came out unsure, like you couldn’t remember yourself. “We’re not— we’re not friends. We don’t—”

Steve shrugged, a clumsy thing that you barely saw because he was so close. His hand that you kept on your thigh tightened, a needy grasp that you encouraged by smoothing your palm up his forearm, upupup until you were holding onto his shoulder and fisting his rain speckled shirt in your fingers.

“You’re right, we don’t,” Steve agreed and his voice was lower than before, more sure and back to sounding a little cocky now that you were holding him with the same kind of want that he held you with. “I totally hate you.”

You wondered if Steve believed his own words in that moment, because with the way he was staring at your mouth, you sure as fuck didn’t.

You didn’t seem to care though.

“Right,” you nodded anyway. “You’re so annoying.” Your nose bumped against his, lips hovering. Waiting. Wanting. Eyes barely open.

The rain got louder, fuzzier, a white noise roar that seemed to match your heartbeat.

“Yeah, you’re a real pain in my ass, princess. Can I kiss you?”

Steve was on you before you finished nodding, a pleased hum coming from the back of your throat as he closed the gap, his hand flying up to grasp the back of your neck, like he wanted to be in control, like he wanted to savour it.

It felt less like an argument this time, this kiss. Steve’s mouth swept over yours lazily, languidly, a melting popsicle on a summer day, cherry flavoured and coloured red like sin. It was chaste for a while, innocent enough for two people parked curbside just before a residential street. But the rain had kept everyone indoors, it had washed away the sidewalk chalk, the hopscotch lines and the love hearts.

Instead, it left inky shadows to hide in, navy and lavender light, heavy rain. Enough noise to disguise your moans with, a substitute for the arcade sounds but this felt better, this felt closer. Warmer. Hotter.

Then Steve’s tongue licked over your bottom lip as his thumb grazed the corner of it, an impatient tug that was supposed to be a question. You answered it by parting your lips for him, tongue meeting his, his groan mixing with your sigh. And too soon, he was pulling away, rosy cheeks and glassy eyed, watching you with the most curious expression - like he couldn’t work you out.

And then: “C’mere.”

Steve moved his chair back, cranking the lever until the seat rolled away from the steering wheel. There was enough room there for you to crawl into his lap, to straddle him and get closer than before. So you did exactly that, a little clumsy and a little eager as you scrambled over the console, Steve’s hand catching your elbow to help you, even with a smirk on his face.

“Thought you didn’t like me?” He reminded you through your willingness to throw your leg over his thighs, grinning when you scowled. Steve’s hands found your hips, warm and wide, gripping tight as you lowered yourself over him. “Or does that not matter now that you’re—”

“Steve? Shut up,” you muttered huffily, happy to have worn a skirt as you settled yourself against him, chest to chest, your hands diving into the hair at the nape of his neck.

You rocked your hips, getting comfy, squirming a little in Steve’s lap and you made a little noise as you did so, the denim and the half hard length of the boy catching against your cotton underwear nicely.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, voice suddenly breathy, the teasing knocked out of him now that you were on top. “Right, yeah, totally shutting up.”

It was easier to press your lips back to his, the neediness mounting, a new kind of want that clawed at your insides and suddenly you didn’t hate the boy at all. In fact, you really liked the way his hands dropped for your hips to hold at your spread thighs, knuckles teasing the edge of your skirt, thumbs rubbing circles the inside of your legs.

You really liked the way he sighed all deep when your tongue licked over his, how his nose pressed harder against your cheek, like he couldn’t get close enough. You really liked the way he kissed you with a confidence that came from knowing how handsome he was, from knowing how a girl liked to be touched.

But you loved it when his mouth hung open when you shoved him back into the seat, a hand to his chest, your own heaving. “Slower,” you told him, whispering, following him back into the chair, where you kept him pressed against the leather. Your mouth was a ghost against his, your bottom lip catching the arc of his cupid's bow, his kiss pink and pouty for you. “Softer.”

Steve did as he was told, hands roaming the expanse of skin under your shirt, fingers trailing up and down your spine as he kissed you like he had all day, all night. A teasing push and pull of his mouth against your own, teeth catching your lip, tongue sliding over your own until you were squirming.

“Yeah?” He asked, lips glossy from you, eyes dreamy.

You nodded, clutching at him, fingers twisting in his hair. “Yeah.”

You didn’t realise you were rocking yourself over Steve until he swore, hands holding you and pushing you down against his hard cock, tight and trapped under his jeans. It was a heady experience, the drag of denim against your underwear, cotton soft and almost soaked through the more Steve kissed you. You felt drunk, the roar of the rain a staticy sound in your ears but Steve’s moans were louder, more important.

He sounded so pretty. He looked even prettier.

So you rested your forehead against his, lips open in a gasp, hips rocking a little faster, a dirty grind that made you feel filthy. Anyone could walk by. Anyone could see.

“M’gonna come like this,” you whispered, only a little embarrassed at your admission. You felt flushed, too warm, the summer air heavy in the car with the aircon off. “Shit, Steve.”

“Christ,” the boy groaned, voice sounding wrecked. “You can’t say shit like that, fucking hell.”

You only whined in response, catching him again for a kiss that turned messy, desperate as you both chased something you didn’t know you’d wanted. Your hands were on Steve’s jaw, titling his head back to kiss him a little deeper as he encouraged you to grind down on him.

He tore away from you when you moaned louder than ever, squirming against his cock through his jeans, letting out a hiccuping sound when the zipper caught against your clit. His lips were on your cheek, the line of your jaw, down your neck.

“Oh my god.”

“Shit, princess, are you gonna come?” He growled when you nodded, your cheek pressed to his. “God, that’s so fucking hot, you’re just— fuck.”

Steve hoisted you away from him, from where you’d pressed yourself against his chest. He coaxed you up, holding onto you with one hand on your thigh, just under your skirt, the other on your waist. He was still guiding you, hips canting up now to help you both gain more friction. You were desperate for another kiss, to feel the dirty flick of Steve’s tongue over yours but Steve tutted as you tried to move back, his hands keeping you where he wanted you.

“Nuhuh,” he murmured, “wanna watch.”

“Oh, shit,” you whined, clutching at the front of his shirt, pulling up the cotton until more skin was revealed, tanned and freckled, a dusting of hair leading down into his jeans. You curled your fingers there instead, holding onto his belt. “Steve, m’close.”

The boy nodded, frantic, suddenly intent on seeing you fall apart, just for him. “I know, I know, keep goin’ for me.” His thumbs dug into your hip bones, pushing and pulling you over his cock, his own breath hitching at the sight of you throwing your head back, eyes fluttering shut, your hold on him tightening. “Fucking hell, you’re so pretty. You look so good.”

It was an easy climb, when he spoke like that. It was a sudden fall when he whispered to you next:

“Can you come like this? Rubbing yourself on my cock? Christ, you’re gonna, aren’t you, princess?”

You came with your lips pressed back to Steve’s, clawing at his shoulders as you whined into his open mouth, his own groan falling onto your tongue, his hands pressing hard into your sides as he jerked underneath you, hips rolling. Steve flushed as he came, cheeks reddening, eyes turning glassy as he watched you and you watched him.

Neither of you moved, not yet, not as quickly as you thought you would’ve. Instead, you leaned into him, body slack and warm, skin slick with rain and exertion, your chest heaving against Steve’s. Maybe you imagined the kiss Steve pressed to your shoulder before you sat up, the fleeting warmth of his lips on your skin, the soft hum that came from him as he did.

There wasn’t any embarrassment as you stared at each other, your legs still splayed over his, the crotch of his jeans starting to darken in one spot, a mix of yours and his accomplishments. If you felt proud at the sight, you tried not to show it. So you both caught your breaths and Steve rubbed a thumb over your knee, wincing when you left him to crawl back to the passenger seat.

You didn’t kiss him goodbye before you left, and Steve didn’t offer any other sweetness when your fingers curled around the door handle, but you did leave him with one parting gift.

“I don’t really hate you,” you told him, suddenly shy despite the marks he’d left on your neck, the mess you’d left his hair. “Not really.”

Steve grinned, a proper, beaming thing before he caught himself and tried to smooth out his expression. He cleared his throat, nodding as he started the engine and gave you one last look. “Yeah. Not really.”

You hadn’t even noticed the rain had stopped.

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

Text

baby, I'm the whole damn meal

I have no explanation other than I need to find myself a dbf!Joel of my own because this man is magic. Welcome to part 6 with our friendly neighbourhood DILF. Enjoy.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary | Joel saves your ass by giving you a ride to work, and then promises you a night you won't forget.

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | As ever, blanket warning for dbf!Joel being a general menace. Age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), flirting, light sexting, edging/orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, protected PiV sex, aftercare.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Texas Sun Playlist

You’re late. Not exactly the first impression you were hoping to make on the start of your second week at work. It was sweltering outside, which meant you’d opted for a shorter and thinner dress to begin with, then thrown it off and gone for something more work-appropriate when you remembered the archives were basically like a freezer from the air-conditioning. You said a silent prayer to your beat-up car that it’s feeling generous with you on the drive into the city and will let the aircon work, so you don’t turn up looking like you’d run five miles.

You grab your keys and your bag and bound out of the door, straight into the back of your dad, who is stood on the porch talking to Joel.

“Woah, careful there, kiddo,” Your dad murmurs, catching you before you can fall back on your ass, “In a rush?”

“If I don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’ll be late for work,” You explain, steadying yourself on your feet, “Oh, morning Joel.” You shoot over your dad’s shoulder, as if you hadn’t spotted him the second you opened the door.

“Morning,” He shoots back, giving his signature smile to you, which causes a blush to flush across your cheeks, “You have a good day now.”

“You too!” You call over your shoulder, unlocking your car and throwing your back in the back seat.

You settle into the driver’s side and turn your key and groan, because of course the engine is spluttering and refusing to actually switch on. It’s like it can sense you’re in a rush, the one morning you really need it to cooperate with you, it decides it’s had enough.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” You mumble, letting your forehead hit the top of the steering wheel, “I ask one thing and you can’t even do that.”

A light tapping on the driver’s window makes you jump, but it’s just Joel. You open the door slightly, “You need a ride?”

“I don’t want you to go out of your way for me,” You mumble, “But yeah, I need a ride.”

“I’m headin’ into town for some supplies so it’s no trouble at all, sugar,” He speaks quietly so your dad doesn’t catch the new nickname Joel’s got for you, “You hop into my truck, and we’ll get goin’ as soon as I’ve said goodbye to your old man.”

You’re listening to their conversation as you reach for your bag and heat to the passenger side of Joel’s truck.

“You make sure you bring the little lady over when she’s back,” Your dad is saying, “I’ll make sure to get the grill going.”

“I will,” Joel promises, reaching out his hand for your dad to shake it, “I’ll catch you later, old man.”

Your dad chuckles, “Make sure she pays you for gas, Joel!” He exclaims once Joel has turned around to make his way to his truck, “It’s her own fault for not buying a new car sooner.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” He shoots a look at you through his open driver’s side window, “I’ll make sure she pays for her ride.”

You’re stunned into silence for a while as he sits down behind the wheel and makes to pull out of your dad’s driveway. He looks over at you and shrugs with a laugh, “You okay, darlin’?”

“Are you for real?” You scoff, “You’re a subtle as a brick sometimes, Joel Miller.”

“I didn’t say anythin’ that wasn’t true.”

It’s too early in the morning for this, you decide, “What were you doing over here anyway?”

“Your dad wanted to borrow some tools for somethin’,” He answers, pulling out of your street and onto the main road, “Brought ‘em over before I went to work.”

You nod in understanding, “And Sarah, she’s back soon, right?”

He hums in the affirmative, letting his palm rest on your knee, “Back tomorrow evenin’, means it might be harder to see you.”

You take hold of his hand at your knee, “We always knew that Joel,” You turn and smile at him, “We’ll make it work.”

It. Whatever it was, you were determined to make it work. In the space of a few weeks, he’d well and truly wormed his way under your skin and settled there, refusing to leave even if you’d wanted him to. Too caught up in how he fucked you and not wanting to cause him to run off into the sunset with your conversations of commitment, you’d skirted round asking what it was that you two were doing exactly. If it meant you could keep him by your side and buried deep inside you, you’d carry on avoiding the conversation too.

“How about you come to mine after work?” He suggests, “I don’t know, tell ya’ dad you’re going out, I’ll pick you up and I can make the most of you while I still can?”

You think for a second about how you’ll get that one past your dad. You’d been home straight after work every night last night, staying up only long enough to eat your dinner, before collapsing into bed. And it was a Monday night, who the hell goes out on a Monday night after work? But if this was the last time you were going to get Joel, in his house alone, you were damn sure you were going to do it.

“Alright,” You agree, giving his hand a squeeze, “Pick me up at six?”

“I’ll be ready and waiting, sugar.”

“I promise I’ll be sensible dad,” You sigh, shoveling another forkful of salad into your mouth, “It’s just a few drinks, we won’t be that late.”

“Alright, well, if you need pickin’ up earlier, you just call, okay?” You know he only means well when he goes into protective mode, but you’re twenty-five years old and managed to live in New York City for years without any real incident, “And if your designated driver starts drinkin’ you call me.”

You feel your phone vibrate against your ear, signaling a text, “I will dad,” You spear another bit of lettuce with your fork, “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, kiddo,” He speaks, “Love you.”

“Love you too!”

As soon as you hang up, you’re checking your messages. It’s Joel. He’s a man of few words when it comes to texting, only ever really using it to make plans with you to sneak around somewhere.

Joel Miller.

Can’t stop thinking about you.

You smile at your desk, resting your chin in your palm as you read it over.

Can’t stop thinking about you either.

You put your phone back on your desk and finish your lunch. Not only is he a man of few words when it comes to texting, but it usually takes him a good ten minutes to reply. You’ve seen him texting Sarah to the point that it’s actually comical.

Been thinking of bending you over my kitchen counter, what do you think?

You almost splutter the mouthful of water you were drinking all over the computer screen in front of you. Was Joel Miller attempting to sext you at work?

Dangerous thoughts for the middle of the day. But you know I like being bent over just for you.

This time he does take a few minutes to respond. You like to think you’ve got him flustered on whatever jobsite he’s at today, shoving his phone back into his pocket and taking deep breaths so he can go back to work with a clear head.

I know you do baby. Gonna fuck you so good later, be feeling me for days.

That’s not much of a change Joel, I always feel you for days after.

You grab your phone and the list of documents your manager had given you to pull for the afternoon and head down into the archive itself. You check your phone, thankful there’s enough signal for any more of his messages to come through to you.

Might not get the chance again for a while, gotta make sure you’re remembering me for as long as possible.

You scoff a little, as if you’d ever forget.

Gonna be in for a long night then?

You start pulling the documents on the list, getting three down before your phone is vibrating again.

If you can walk outta my house, I’ve not done it properly.

You can feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach, goosebumps peppering your skin at the thought of him doing just as he promised. Burying himself deep inside you, pounding his cock into from behind. You can already feel the delicious ache he usually leaves you with.

I hope that’s a promise, Miller. Now stop distracting me and go back to work.

His reply, for once, is almost instantaneous.

Yes ma’am. See you at six.

The rest of the day is a blur. You’re too distracted by Joel’s promises that it takes you far longer than it should to finish pulling all the documents you needed. Then, when your mind wanders to visions of the last time he had you bent over a kitchen island, you have to double check where you’re distributing them to. You’re grateful when, at six o’clock, your colleague Hanna comes up behind you, your bag in her hand, to tell you it’s time to leave.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” She smiles.

Hanna was close to your age, which was a welcome change to the mostly older women who worked in your team. She was Canadian, moving to Austin after her degree and you’d already become fast work friends. When you exit the building, Joel is stood against the hood of his truck, one ankle folded over the over, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Who is that?” Hanna enquires when he waves at you.

“That’s Joel,” You smile, not able to hide the pride that this man was yours, “He’s my…. Well, I actually don’t know what he is, but we fuck.”

Hanna’s eyes dart between you and Joel, a smirk on her face, “Damn girl, get it.”

You both break into fits of giggles before you give each other a hug, Hanna heading down to catch the bus to her apartment whilst you practically jog over to Joel’s truck.

“What’s so funny?” He grumbles, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Oh nothing,” You tease, standing on your tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, “Just happy to see you.”

You feel his hand trail down your back to grip the globe of your ass through your dress, “You talkin’ about me, pretty girl?” He growls into your ear.

“Might have been,” You shrug, “Just showing you off, handsome.”

“Get in the damn truck.” He says with a playful swat to your ass.

“Yes sir.” You smirk, hopping up into your seat.

The drive back to his house in thick with tension. He’s got his hand on your leg, much like he had this morning, but this time his fingers are gripping into the meat of your thigh. Whenever it’s safe, his eyes are trailing over your body, dark with wanting. He pulls up outside his house in no time, taking a few moments to look up the street to make sure no-one is going to notice you sneaking in through his front door.

When the coast is clear, you grab your bag and follow him to the door. He unlocks it and pushes it open, letting you through first.

“You hungry, Joel?” You call over your shoulder once you’ve thrown your bag next to his couch, “We could order something in?”

You’re rooting through his fridge for something cold to drink and don’t hear a reply. Gripping the tops of two bottles of beer, you stand back up, “Hey, Joel, did you hear me?!” You yell as you’re closing the fridge door.

“I heard ya.” He’s standing at the kitchen island, leant on his palms, with those deep, brown eyes trailing over your body.

“So, are you hungry?” You ask again, flicking the tops off the bottles before placing one down in front of him.

His eyes drag slowly down your body as he tips his bottle to his lips, “I could eat, yeah.”

“What are you hungry for?” You question, “We could get pizza, or maybe a Chinese takeout?”

He shakes his head, “Not hungry for those.” He shrugs.

“Well, what are you hungry for?”

“You.”

Your eyes widen at his words, “I’m not even really a snack Joel.”

He’s shifted his position to be leaning on his hip at the end of the island with his hand outstretched to you, “Sugar, you’re so wrong,” He breathes as you take hold of his hand, “You’re a whole damn meal.”

He’s leading you to the table and gesturing for you to sit on it, “You want me to sit on there?” You ask with a snort, not sure that it’s going to hold your weight.

“I said I was hungry for ya, didn’t I?” Joel asks with an eyebrow raised, you nod in agreement though, “Well then sit down and let me eat that perfect pussy.”

He steadies you with wide palms on your hips as you settle your ass on the table. Of course, it holds your weight, because he built it. You remember Sarah gushing over how he’d made it a few years back.

Joel drops to his knees after he’s pulled the chair away from the table, his hands dragging from your hips to the hem of your dress just above your knees. He’s pushing the fabric up your thighs devastatingly slowly, pressing hot kisses to each inch of new skin he uncovers. You’re leaning back with your palms braced on the wood behind you, soft gasps tumbling from your lips at each touch of his lips to your skin.

Once he’s shucked as much of the material to bunch at your waist as he can, his hands are back on your hips, this time under your dress, keeping you in place as he drags the same slow trail of kisses back down your other thigh until he reaches your knee. He’s hooking both of your legs over his shoulders, shuffling into you a little more on his knees before you can feel hit hot breath fanning the material of your underwear which is practically sticking to your core from arousal.

“You gonna be all wet for me, sugar?” He asks, “All that textin’ got you worked up for me?

“What don’t you find out for yourself?” You challenge, feeling your legs shake on his shoulders from the slight chuckle he lets out.

“Would rather you tell me,” He murmurs, planting a kiss on the skin of your groin, right where the seam of your underwear begins, “Tell me how hot I made ya?”

“So fucking hot, Joel,” You whimper as he presses a similar kiss to the other side of your underwear, “Couldn’t think straight.”

He’s gently running his thumb along the seam of your pussy through the cotton covering your core. It’s so featherlight that if you weren’t burning from every nerve ending, you’d probably have missed it, but it’s there, and it has you bucking your hips and begging for more friction.

“So, if I peeled these off, you’d be soaked for me, right sugar?”

You gather what sanity is left in your brain, reaching down between your thighs to take his chin in your hand, tilting his face to meet yours, “Why don’t you fuck around and find out, Joel Miller?”

With his eyes on yours you swear you see something snap behind his brown orbs. His hands are practically ripping the material off your body. They’re thrown over his shoulder and forgotten, just like his need to incessantly tease you when the flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe along the now naked seam of your pussy. A soft sigh leaves your lips as his tongue mimics the movement once more, this time, the tip of his tongue dipping just below your folds to graze your clit, ever so gently.

You’re widening your thighs, baring your naked cunt to his face. He’s got his hands splayed back on your hips to keep you still, his tongue once against licking a familiar stripe, this time through your folds, stopping to flick the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue yet again, but this time with more purpose than before, more purpose that to just tease you. This man between your thighs wants to devour you.

Joel’s hands are spreading your pussy wide, baring your entire core to his mouth as his tongue moves from the precise movements over your clit, down to the weeping entrance. His tongue swirls and gathers the slick that has gathered there.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” He groans into your core, taking his time to swipe his tongue through the wetness again, “Best damn meal I ever had.”

“Joel, please,” You beg, letting your fingers run through the dark strands of his hair, “It’s not enough.”

You can feel his mouth grin into the skin of your pussy, he licks a stripe back up to your clit before focusing on your clit, making short and fast flicks to the bud with the tip of his tongue. Your grind your hips into his face, hands gripping at the back of his head to keep him in place because this is exactly what you needed. The movement of his tongue is precise, switching from short flicks in and up and down motion, to tight circles. It’s enough to have you teetering on the edge but still not enough. You’re shifting your ass to the edge of the table, hoping that bringing his tongue closer to you will help, but it doesn’t.

“Fingers, Joel,” You demand, groaning in frustration when his movements stop altogether, “Please baby, I need it so bad.”

“All you had to do was ask nicely.” He says, pulling back just enough to give him room to speak before you feel two of his thick fingers pushing inside of you.

He curls them up into your pussy almost immediately, whilst his lips wrap around your clit. The pressure of him sucking on your clit, teamed with his still precise flicks, and the thrusting of his fingers inside you have you hurtling towards the cliff face of your orgasm in record time. You’re so close you can almost reach out a hand and grab it to pull yourself over the edge. Joel knows it, can feel your pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers, and the son of a bitch pulls his fingers and mouth from you just before you can come.

“No!” You exclaimed, looking down at him with wide eyes full of frustration, you’re pulling at his hair to try and get him to put himself back on you, “Nonononono.” You whine in frustration as he stands from his knees.

He dips down, pressing a kiss wet with your slick to your cheek, bringing his lips to your ear, “Patience sugar,” He chuckles, hands moving to undo his belt, “Promise it’ll feel better if you wait for it.”

Your chest is heaving, pussy fluttering around nothing as you sit and watch as he sheds his jeans, kicking them backwards to join your underwear on the kitchen floor. Then he’s tugging his t-shirt over his head. If you weren’t so angry with him, you’d be able to appreciate the broad expanse of his chest, the way the muscles of his biceps clenched whenever he moved. All you could focus on was the intense need to chase the high he’d deprived you of. You weren’t even overly bothered when he helps you stand, dragging your dress over your body to meet it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. You’re aware of the fact that he unclips your bra, grateful more than anything that it’s off after a long day.

Then, Joel is turning you around, placing his warm palm at the nape of your neck and pushing you down to the table. Your palms are resting on the wood in front of you. You turn around and watch as he fishes a condom from his wallet, shucking his boxers off before sheathing himself.

“Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl,” He murmurs behind you, using one of his feet to kick gently at your ankle, causing you to widen your stance, “Promised you I would.”

You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your slick entrance before he’s slowly burying himself inside you to the hilt. You let out a whine of satisfaction at the feeling of him filling you. He pulls himself back a little before he’s slamming back into your pussy like he means it this time. He’s pounding into you so hard that your hips are digging into the table in front of you. He’s got one hand gripping the nape of your neck again, keeping you pressed down, the other gripping the meat of your ass.

“You like that?” He asks, grunting behind you as he pulls out and thrusts back in, “Like it when I fill your pretty pussy like this.”

Oh God, I really do, is all you can think, but the way his cock is brushing against that perfect spot inside you means you can’t talk, only let a throaty moan drop from your mouth.

“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even talk, pretty girl,” Joel chuckles, his point proven when he shifts the angle of his hips slightly and has you crying out when he thrusts back into you, “Gotta remember this, okay?” You nod, “Remember how well I fuck you when I can’t be there.”

It’s desperate from here on out. He’s rutting into you like a man starved, hips beginning to stutter as he climbs towards his own climax. You think he might actually leave you hanging until the hand that was gripping your ass slips in front of you and begins circling your clit. You almost cry with relief. The circles on your clit are messy but they’re doing their job. You can feel your tight walls clenching around Joel’s cock, can hear that way his moans change when you do. Neither of you are going to last much longer, it’s just a question of who gets there first.

Just as you think the answer is going to be you, Joel once more pulls his hand from your pussy, and you actually cry. The second time he’s cruelly denied you your release and you’re fed up. He’s always been a giver. Always made sure you finish before he does. But right now, he doesn’t seem to care. Both his hands are gripping your hips, you know there will be bruises of his fingertips there tomorrow. He thrusts into your pussy twice more, maybe three times before he’s stilling inside of you and groaning your name behind you.

You don’t really think he gives himself enough time before he’s slipping out of you, pulling you up and around to sit you back on the table before he’s once again on his knees with his face buried in your cunt.

“You wanna come, pretty girl?” He asks, thumbing at your clit gently.

“Make me come right now Joel Miller,” You demand, tears dripping from the corner of your eyes in frustration, “Before I kill you.”

His lips circle your clit again and he’s lapping at your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers are back inside you, curling again, reaching that sweet spot inside you that has your back arching into him.

It’s quick and it’s overwhelming when it arrives. Your whole body is convulsing and you’re calling his name out into the emptiness of the room. There’s are dark spots in your vision and the aftershocks are more intense than you’d ever felt before. Joel is slipping his fingers from you but continues pressing light kisses to your clit as you come down from your high.

He lets you fall back onto the table for a moment as he disposes of the condom, but is back quickly, gathering you up into his arms and walking you to the couch. He lies down and settles you on top of him. He knows that he pushed you tonight, knows that the shaking of your shoulders and the tears in your eyes are because you’re overwhelmed. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead whilst you recover.

“You okay, sugar?” He whispers into your hair as his other hand rubs soothing lines up and down your spine.

You look up at him, eyes glazed, “I am more than okay, Miller.” You mumble, letting your lips drop to his chest to press a kiss to them.

He tilts your chin to his face, shuffling a little to capture your lips in his for a tender kiss, he pulls away, leaving barely any space between your lips and his, “Did so well for me,” He praises, “Hopefully that’ll keep you going until I can see you again.”

You press forward and kiss him again, letting your arms circle his neck, “Seriously now though,” You whisper, gathering your strength, “What do you want to eat, because I’m starving.”

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percervall · 10 months ago

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Mamma mia, here I go again {pt9}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks, hints at religious trauma Word count: 1514 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @hiireadstuff @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora @ystrolllll

Part 9 of the Mamma Mia series

Mark somehow manages to get your body to move, speaking to you in hushed tones. The words aren’t even registering at this point, but the sound of his voice helps calm you down. You hear Mark talk to someone, and looking up you spot Mick who shoots you a concerned glance, before nodding and rushing off into the garage.

“Okay sweetheart, let’s get you inside okay?” Mark murmurs and guides you to the hospitality building. The aircon feels nice after being outside in the heat and you slump down onto the nearest seat. Mark hands you an opened water bottle, instructing you to take slow sips. He looks up at something outside before crouching down.

“I will be right back, but I need to talk to someone okay?” You nod, before taking another sip. Mark presses a kiss against your temple before going back outside. You feel eerily calm now that you’re back indoors. No panic, no sadness, just.. Nothing. Logically you know your brain is protecting you by shutting down any and all emotions. Taking another sip, you look outside and see Mark in deep conversation with Toto and Lewis’ engineer, Bono. You frown a little when Bono follows Mark inside to where you are while Toto goes back to the garage. You can see Bono’s mouth move as he talks to you but it feels like you’re underwater.

“... Looks like he’ll be back for Austin.”

“Wait, what?” you ask, fighting the urge to shake your head to clear the fog.

“Kevin and Lewis are in the medical tent. Sweetheart, did you hear me? They’re alive.”

“They-..” The rest of the words get caught in your throat as Mark’s words echo in your head. Relief floods through you as it sinks in that both of them made it out of their cars. However, that relief is quickly joined by the realisation that you need to talk to them, need to tell all three of them how you feel about them –truthfully this time.

“Can I go-.. Can I see them?” you ask, eyes moving from Bono to Mark. Mark nods, holding out his hand.

“I’ll take you.”

Taking a deep breath, you follow Mark into the medical centre. It looks more impressive than it is; while there are a few doctors on sight, it essentially functions as a more aesthetically pleasing version of the first aid tent you’d find at any festival. Mark easily navigates the two of you to the wing where the drivers would be taken to, tucked away to avoid paparazzi from taking photos. Anxiety simmers under your skin, like an itch you can’t scratch. You can’t help but keep going over the what ifs –what if you bare your soul to them and they say no? You know it’s not fair to them to hope they will still want you, not after the hell you put them through, but at the same time you wonder if you can take it if they refuse you. Only one way to find out, you hear Jasmine say as you round the corner. Your breath gets caught in your lungs as you see Kevin and Lewis lounging on the hospital beds, chatting with Mark who already entered.

“Oh thank god,” you sigh, relief washing over you a second time. Your legs feel weak but you force yourself to keep moving. A part of you wants nothing more than to walk straight into their arms but you can’t. Not before you tell them everything you should have said weeks ago. You can feel their eyes on you, Mark shooting you a worried glance and moving to comfort you. Biting your lip, you shake your head.

“No, I-.. I need to say something first.” You wrap your arms around yourself as you look at the ceiling.

“When I saw the crash I feared the worst. For a long moment I thought I had lost you and that I would never get to tell you-.. Tell you that- that I lied. I lied in Suzuka. I said that I feel nothing but that’s not true,” you start, unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Tilting your head, you look at the three men before continuing. “Because it’s easier –safer to be alone and to not admit to my feelings because if I admit that I not only have feelings, but that I am in love, that opens me up for the worst kind of pain. And then I thought you had died and somehow that felt even worse than any potential heartbreak ever could feel. So, I am in love. God, I am so in love with you, all three of you and that terrified me because I can’t. That’s not how romance novels work and so I lied because how can I choose? How can I love three men at once? I shouldn’t, and yet I do and how- how can you love me? How can I ask that you-... I feel like it makes me a terrible person because it’s greedy but I can’t- I can’t choose. Please, don’t make me choose.” You know you’re rambling now, probably repeating the same thing over and over again. Your heart is hammering against your chest and as fear sinks its claws into your body, it becomes increasingly more difficult to catch your breath. It’s quiet for all of a heartbeat before Mark takes you in his arms, and something breaks while simultaneously being put back together, which is a confusing emotion to experience. You had expected the worst, as you so often do when it comes to love because that’s the default; it’s all you’ve known ever since you first heard your parents shout at one another yet stay together in loathing because divorce was never an option in the eyes of the church.

“Breathe, baby. In and out, slowly.. There you go, sweetheart,” Mark says, brushing your tears away with his thumb as you take slow breaths. Mark keeps your face cradles in his hands as his eyes search yours.

“I need you to hear me okay? There is nothing that could make me not love you. I have loved you for a decade, and I will love you for every decade that’s yet to come. This doesn’t change that.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, watching how his lips curl up in a smile as his eyes soften with adoration at your words. Mark presses a kiss to your forehead before letting go of your face.

“Like I said in Copenhagen, I picture us when I picture my future. I didn’t expect that to be the four of us, but it doesn’t change my feelings for you,” Kevin says, making you turn to look at him.

“Oh, Kev, I love you too,” you reply, making your way over to where he is resting against the pillows. Kevin smiles up at you as you give him a quick peck.

“And like I said, as long as I get to call you mine, it’ll be worth it. I don’t love them the way you do, My, but it also wouldn’t feel right not to share this with them,” Lewis adds, taking your hand before pulling you down so he can kiss you. Mark joins the three of you, resting his hands on your hips as he lets you lean against him. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to process all of this.

“What’s gonna happen next?” you whisper.

“Right now, I am going to take you back to Mercedes so you can get your stuff and then I am taking you to the hotel for dinner and a good night’s sleep. And then in the morning we are going to sit down and figure out next steps, how does that sound?” Mark offers, pressing another kiss to the top of your head.

“Like a plan,” you reply quietly, still feeling overwhelmed by this revelation.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, elskede,” Kevin says, pulling you closer for a proper kiss. As soon as he lets go of you, Lewis takes you in his arms to give you another kiss. By the time you’re headed out the door, you feel a little light-headed by all the love and affection. Mark chuckles, taking your hand in his.“Better get used to it sweetheart, I have a feeling we’ll be all over you to make up for lost time.” Somehow the prospect of the three of them wanting to show how much they love you doesn’t fill you with anxiety the way it used to. If anything it makes you feel giddy. For a brief moment you allow yourself to ignore the logistics of dating three people at once who barely spend enough time in the same country to go to dinner once a week, how this is going to be a PR nightmare for the teams involved; all of that can wait till morning. Right now you just want to enjoy the fact that you’re so disgustingly in love, and what’s more: they love you too.

I know for sure that there's one person not best pleased with this outcome. Are they all idiots for forgiving her? Maybe. But I never said love is rational

Massive thank you to @curiousthyme for being my beta reader once more 🥰

Feel free to let me know your thoughts! Your comments, tags and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜

Just one more part and an epilogue left now, I can't believe this fic is coming to an end already

#f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #kevin magnussen x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #mamma mia fic

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 2 years ago

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Anything Drew smut after a night at the beach 😫

Night Swims

Pairings- Drew Starkey x Fem!reader

Summary: Beach trips with Drew.

Warnings- semi public sex, chocking, fingering, scratching. [18+] And some fluff :)

The sun had set hours ago, the moon now the only source of light. It reflected off the soft salty waves of the sea, Drew and Y/N cuddle up against one another in silence.

They had been swimming for hours, towels wrapped around them tightly, the coolness from the night sky began to nip at their skin. “Shall we go home?” Drew questioned, but he made no move to stand. Instead, he wrapped his arms a tad tighter around her body.

“Yeah, suppose we should” she sighed, content with how things where. She knew they had to get up at some point, soon the air would be ice cold and they would probably catch the flu. Drew couldn’t risk getting sick while filming for his new movie. “Let’s go” she states, she presses her palms into the sand and pushes herself to stand.

She extends a handout, and he wraps his much bigger one around it, he didn’t need the help of getting up, but he wouldn’t decline the offer to touch her skin. “Thanks babe” he whispers, giving her a kiss on her cheek.

She turns her head quickly to kiss his lips, she expects it to end there. But he grabs her jaw and uses his thumb to caress her bottom lip, the two of them staring at each other in silence. “I love you” Drew says, he’s kissing her again before she can say it back.

Maybe worried she might not reciprocate the feelings or maybe because he needed to taste her. A sudden urge to fuck her rippled through his body, his greedy hands pinching at her skin. He didn’t like the towel that barricaded him from her delicate flesh.

“Let’s go to the car” she breathes, he’s trailing his lips down her neck and sucking softly. Her fingers grip onto his naked shoulders to steady her weak legs, she can feel him hum against her throat in agreement but doesn’t stop his attack on her collar bone.

“Come on” she urges, pushing softly at his shoulder until he’s standing tall once again. He wraps his arm around her waist and picks her up bridal style, he starts his trek back to the car, comfortable silence settles around them again. “I love you too” she finally admits.

He looks down at her momentarily, a sparkle in his eye. He kisses her forehead in acknowledgement and picks his steps up, they are standing by her Range Rover within seconds. His fingers double clicking the unlock button. “Jump in baby girl” he says, he holds the door open for her and watches her climb in.

He rushes around the other side and steps into the car, locking the door behind him and starting the engine. The car park is dead, and the moons light focuses on the water giving them privacy in the dark.

“I want to fuck you Drew, right here. I want you to take me right here and show me how much you love me”

That’s enough to have him coming in his shorts, he reaches over for her and laces his fingers into the back of her long silky hair, giving it a harsh tug and yanking her over the centre console.

Her hands press firmly onto his thighs as she looks up at him through her long dark lashes, she bites down on her lower lip before assaulting his lips.

Her fingers dance across his abs and over his chest until they sit comfortably on his shoulders. Her legs reach over until she straddles his lap, pressing her core down into his crotch. “Come on baby, show me what you got” she begs, his hands squeezing the flesh of her ass.

He reaches around and pulls the string of her bikini top, letting the material loosen and expose her perky breasts. Nipples hardened from the coolness of the aircon, his fingertips brush lightly over them. Sending a shiver down her spine, she can feel her arousal soaking her panties.

“I love you Y/N, I love this breast and this breast” he mumbles against your skin, pressing open mouth kisses to your skin. Running his tongue over your pebbled nipple, he brings up against your crotch hoping to create a friction. “I love your body, your mind” he continues to list of everything he loves about you.

All the while he kisses and bites and leaves behind tiny purple marks on her chest, her pussy throbs from the dry humping. She needed to feel him inside of her, as though he can hear her thoughts.

He reaches between them both and shuffles his hands around until her swimmers are bunched to the side and her pussy is exposed, his fingers run through her folds. She emits a loud moan, her pussy clenching around nothing. She grind yourself into his hand, he slips 2 fingers inside of her with ease.

“Fuck baby” she curses, she begins to ride his hand. Pressing her clit into his palm, her fingernails dig into his shoulders as she braces herself. “More please, I need more” she begs, he pushes a third finger into her and begins to arch his fingers exactly where she needs him to.

“Shit, yes, oh god YES!” She cry, a shiver runs down her spine and butterflies swarm her belly as she reaches her high. Buzzing fills her senses as she cum’s around his fingers.

Her walls clenching his fingers tightly and sweat drips down the middle of her chest. “I love you” she breaths, pressing her lips to his cheek.

“I love your more, but we aren’t done yet”.

He pulls his erect cock out of his shorts, moving her to hover over him slightly, he doesn’t waste any time and lines himself up with her aching hole. She drops down onto his cock, her arousal giving her enough lubrication. “Fuck” he groans, he presses his hand against the head rest and reaches down between the seat and the door to pull the handle.

The seat falls back just enough to give them both a little room, one hand gripping her buttocks and the other massaging her breast. She holds onto the seat and begins to bring herself up and down on him, painstakingly slow.

“You look so beautiful riding my cock, pretty girl” he whispers, his hand trails up from her breast to her throat. He gives it a little squeeze, eyes rolling and her back arching. She is squeezing around him, ordering herself not to cum yet.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close. Oh god, I love you so much”.

He pulls on her throat, bringing her closer to him so he can kiss her. Slipping his tongue in her open mouth and caressing the inside.

He lets go of her throat and grips her hips instead, helping her to move harder and faster against him, the movement causing her swollen clit to rub against his abs, her walls fluttering around his throbbing cock.

“Yeah, faster Drew, please” she beg, they are no longer kissing. But lips still ghost against one another, both of their breaths mixing as she begins to reach her climax. “Oh god, OH!”.

His fingers are buried deep in her skin, his cock nudging her closer and closer to her release. Sharp nails scratching against his bare tanned chest, she can taste salt on her tongue from his skin.

They are both sweating and the car is beginning to heat up with the body heat, she reaches up to hold onto the handle on the roof. She holds her weight as she bounces harsher against him, watching the way his mouth falls open and his head begins to arch from the chair.

She loved watching him come undone, it was her absolute favourite way to see him. “Oh- you’re squeezing so tight pretty girl” He groans, his body shudders under her. “So close, baby, just a little harder” he says, he meets her hips in the middle causing him to hit deep inside of her.

She emits a loud moan and throws her head back; she is releasing around him. Letting her climax wash through her body, shivers running through her spine. Toes curling as he continues to fuck up into her, his own release chasing behind.

“Oh shit” she cries out, her orgasm intensifying from the over stimulation. His abs rocking against her swollen clit, white dots invade her vision as she drops her head down onto his shoulder. “I love you” he breathes out, she can feel his release deep inside of her. Burying his seed deep inside of her walls. “I love you too”.

She slowly pull away from him and gives him a chaste kiss, the both of them looking equally as dishevelled as the other. She begins to move off him, backing up a little too much and pressing her bum to the horn. “SHIT!” She screeches, her walls clenching around his softened cock.

“Oh! Don’t do that! Unless you plan on going again” He states, helping her off him and back into her seat. Grabbing a handful off napkins from the centre console, he reaches down to help her clean herself up and then cleans himself up.

“I mean, I could go again?”.

#outerbanks smut #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey #outerbanks drew #outerbanks fic #outerbanks cast #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic

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airconengineer · 1 year ago

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AC Cleaning Service Delhi - Aircon Engineers

Introduction:

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#AC Cleaning Service in Delhi #AC Service in Delhi NCR #Air Conditioner repairing services in Delhi #Air Conditioning Installation #Aircon Engineers #ventilating and air conditioning services #ventilation services

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techtimia-engineering · 2 years ago

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Heat, ventilation and Air Conditioning system design and construction

The HVAC industry is a global enterprise. Although the sector seems to be very simple and not so complex one in fact it is the other way round, the process starts with proper research, designing, creation, system manufacturing, sales and service and so on. While talking about the process of installation, servicing and maintenance, it starts with estimating both for cooling and heating which apparently must be determined taking into account the exterior climate and the specified conditions of the interior.

Well before considering the heat load assessment, the fresh air requests for each area in detail, must also be considered, as the aspect of pressure is an also an important point. Initially regulated by the manufacturers of HVAC devices, a uniform mechanical code has now been brought into practice in order to support the industry and enable achievement in this sector. Techimia provides the best Hvac Maintenance and Repair Services in Singapore.

Fundamentally in an Industrial air conditioning system, providing cool air and controlling humidity in the specified area of a building is intended. This is achieved by keeping the windows or other vents sealed, since windows that are open work against the system resulting in failure to maintain the desired indoor air conditions. In a simple sense, a vent draws outside air into the system’s air chamber which mixes with the returned air from the inside. The exchange of internal air and the external fresh air takes place and cooled in the exchange chamber which is once again let into the area that requires cool air. By opening this vent, the air inflow can be regulated according to the requirement.

The mechanism of the heat transfer takes place through a suitable medium which is referred to as the refrigeration system and the medium that aids the transfer of heat is called the refrigerant. The refrigerant is usually applied either in a heat pump system, or within the cooling system. This apart the air conditioning systems are fitted with air filters which are a gauze-like material, and must be kept clean and services as and when conditions demand, if not it contributes to a lower heat exchange rate causing overheating resulting in the impairment of the system.

However these activities must be carried out by a professional who is qualified and equally experienced. Organizations like Techtimia have specialised in the Commercial Building Facilities, Building Automation Services. Techtimia is a dynamic team of professionals offering services and maintenance undertakings pertaining to Air-Conditioning, Refrigeration & Ventilation Works Systems and Mechanical Engineering services.

Hvac Maintenance and Repair Services, Hvac Repair Services Singapore, Hvac Services Singapore, Mechanical Engineering Services, Industrial Air Conditioning Systems

#HVAC Maintenance and Repair Services #HVAC Repair Services Singapore #HVAC Services Singapore #Mechanical Engineering Services #Industrial Air Conditioning Systems #Commercial Building Facilities #Building Automation Services #aircon installation

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ikkosu · 8 months ago

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So you know when you wear shorts in summer in a car with a leather seat that your legs stick to it sometimes? I've actually almost fallen out of car bc of that. And because of this experience, may I request this happening to the reader with any autobot of your choice?

THROUGH the glaze of the windshield, traffic churns at a slow, steady pace. Pistons chuff, creak and groan; beaten down by the glare of the sun, little by little the mottled blurs of car start to file out.

Everytime, you think you're going to wrangle out of this hellhole — a wide gap-like opening, blaring out like the heavens for freedom — you find yourself stuck in another junction, relapsing in the same fucking problem.

Stuck in the same place. Between mesh metal of blistering, practically burning from the sun, hot cars.It also doesn't help how raw to the bone hot the weather is.

Heat is seething through the Aircon. You're practically drenched, and the discomfort of having an already wet shirt matted to your wet spine is exacerbated by the goddamn ire before your eyes.

There's a truck, in front of you.

A very old truck.

And, fast?

Not it's greatest virtue.

A lump of irritation bites its way through your teeth. The backside of the truck sputters with black fumes. You're about to relinquish the title of an honorable citizen, when the radio warbles with a staticky breedle.

"You're getting sweat all over the seats, pipsqueak." Comes his sardonic chuff. The insignia lits up with every sass induced spool of his words.

At that you lift up your thighs, a kind of schlap followed after as a result of very sweaty skin latching on leather.

"Suck it cop-bot," You pat the steering wheel. "That's what you get for having shitty air conditioning."

A growl revved up from the engine. The wheel whirls away from your touch three-sixty at max speed.

"You can't expect me to accept the blame, can I? When all there is out there under that— that blisteringly — whatever you call that slag of a weather, is hot fraggin' air."

You blink at the sudden venom in his tone. Prowl's usually, eh usually, the type to keep it down when he's about to lose it : a scowl and a sharp tongue is good enough for lacerating the source of his ire.

For him to snap? Yikes. That takes a lot. A hefty lot. Even with Smokescreen, concierge of shenanigans — worst he's got is a swift chuck to the brig and cleaning duty for a year. And, that's just with a scowl and a low, steady tone.

Guess Cybertronians aren't immune to hot days, either huh. Sun's that bad.

"Is it getting to you too, Prowler?"

"What do you think?" He bites back. "Look at the thermometer. It's exceeding above the usual range of what a normal temperature should be. It's draining up the power in my cooling fans which drains up my fuel, which drains up energon. Which, at this moment, is scarce."

"Hard times, Prowler." You shake your head solemnly. "Hard times."

"You don't get a say in this." He grits out.

The car leers forward with a sudden jerk and your forehead kisses the steering wheel. Not the flat surface where the insignia lies but the edge. You know, the round handle? Bubbles of pain shoot out from the spot and you groan.

"What?" You whined. "It's already hot enough with my ass sticking to your seat — you can't leave me with any more bruises worse than this, alright?"

"Then keep that mouth shut. Or I'm shutting it off for you."

" We're stuck in traffic, though." You grope the steering wheel, grinning at the irritated growl of an engine when he tries to steer it away.

"Will you cut it."

"Hunkering down on a quick brawl in the street doesn't really contribute to the whole," You waggle your hands. " bots in disguise, kind of thing. Not really your style. Doesn't fit you, prowler. Doesn't seem to fit the muse of a..." You trail off, playful and purposeful with your tone. "...law enforcer."

He's quiet for a moment.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

He laughs : a quick sarcastic 'hah' and a chuff.

"Get out."

Yep. There, it is.

"Duly noted."

Your fingers wrangle the door knob. And, as soon as you struggle to pry it open you realize Prowl is keeping it locked.

"Where'd the angry coppa go?" You huffed.

"Oh, you'll see."

"Open the—huh?"

Your fingers grasps the open air, twitching around nothingness. The momentum propels you to slide off your sweat-lathered seat, lurching forward and face first into the hot, concrete road.

#any autobot = my husband prorlotl #transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #idw prowl #prowl x reader #prowl #idw prowl x reader #😭😭😭 its literally so hot here im melting into a fugcking pufdle fam

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trashpandacraft · 1 year ago

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the fibre we dyed over the weekend is all dry and has been photographed! i feel pretty good about it—for a couple cripples who tire real fast, we got a lot done. this coming week we're back to tolerable temperatures, so i strongly suspect that we'll be dyeing more soon. we're not exactly hot-weather people, so having a nice big stash of stuff we can play with while we hide in the aircon is nice.

so what'd i dye?

my camera really struggled with that red one, but i think this is as good as it's getting. that lurid patch at the top doesn't exist in real life—overall, the closer you get to the middle, the more true to life it looks.

i think my favourite is the last one, the black-grey with splotches. if i'm right, it's going to spin up really nicely. (if i'm wrong, it'll spin up...interestingly! i'll learn something, probably.)

the tonal blue is more for blending than it is spinning straight—we had ~400g rambouillet and i think we're doing a bunch of tonals to play around with. (@binchickencrafts did a purple one when i did the blue.)

anyhow, the blue-grey is lonk, the blue is rambouillet, the red-orange is whitefaced woodland, and the multi is southdown, and i have about 200g of everything except the blue. (i know no one cares, but i have to write this down for me, otherwise i have no idea what i've dyed and have to try to reverse engineer it, and i hate doing that.)

pretty good weekend!

#dyeing #fiber crafts #fiber arts #wool #i just love dyeing so much #we've got some fibre reactive dyes that we'll do on cotton/linen when it's hot #but i've never done those before because i'm really a wool person at heart #so who knows how that'll go #i gotta have enough wool to get me through summer 😭#smartest raccoon i know

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cinnaminyoons · 2 years ago

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( OMNIA VINCIT AMOR. )

ミ☆ at the end of the day, there is no home like your arms.

⤷ PAIRING jjk x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 7.4k

⤷ TAGS surfer!jk, inferred sex + implied top reader, slight age gap (jk’s 20, reader is somewhere noticeably above him), an angry father (jk’s), mentions of bullying

⤷ REQUESTED

link to req

stranger danger. disruptive stranger, endangering our coastal constancy.

there's a newcomer, they say, an odd fellow with city-slicker shades and a natural toughness about him like a veteran.

but that's the thing, they whisper. he can't be a veteran. too young. too reckless.

born and raised in his tiny seaside town, population three hundred strong, jeon jungkook has never met anyone who circulates such rumours and gossip. most fresh faces are tourists passing through to prettier sights where the aircon always works and the hot water never runs cold – but this man, they say, has intentions to stay a while.

like every evening, jungkook loiters in the only bar in town. it's a dump, really, with perpetually-sticky countertops and eclectic interior design choices. creased and faded posters line the walls, depicting the town's idyllic shore, with blue skies and bluer waters. on the wall, the same old man has been the employee of the year seventeen times, and the only thing that changes about him is the colour of his shirt.

the only good thing he can say of the place is that it serves alcohol he can't buy at the single supermarket, and that they don’t care who’s drinking unless they’re visually no older than fifteen. he flicks the blue umbrella into the bin carelessly and throws the drink back, hissing softly at the smooth fruity burn down his throat. he gestures for another and the old man complies silently, shuffling around behind the counter as he wipes down the same glass he's been shining for the last hour.

somewhere outside, past the open doors, the deep rumble of a v8 engine perks his ears. it's a gorgeous sound, pleasingly smooth and powerful, and it comes with the heavy crunch of car tires on gravel. ice cubes rattle against his glass.

his feet take him outside, and he peers cautiously around the corner like a child playing hide-and-seek. there, pooled in the sweet honey of the summer sunset, is the stranger.

the slight breeze runs its fingers over his hair, and something like jealousy slips between his ribs as he watches the stranger nudge the door open. in his hand is an engraved silver lighter and he stuffs it into the pocket of his army-green bomber, which he shrugs off of straight shoulders. beneath, he dons a black tank top, and jungkook's breath catches in his throat as his gaze slides over his body, the way his muscles tense and shift as he rolls his shoulders and slings a guitar case over his back.

at first, the inky darkness looping around his arms and shoulders seems like a trick of the light. jungkook's eyes widen – tattoos. a hundred, a thousand, precise black lines cross his skin, glossy with the slight sheen of sweat under the summer sun.

when he turns, jungkook catches a flash of his eyes behind those dark aviators. jungkook spins on his heel behind the door, his heart racing, and prays he was not caught staring.

after a moment's pause, the crunching footsteps stride away, and jungkook sighs softly in relief. he peeks around the corner. a pebble of disappointment drops in his stomach.

the first good-looking guy he sees, and he's a creep about it. he shakes his head, squeezing lingering seawater out of his hair by the handfuls, and pushes it out of his eyes as he returns to his place at the bar.

mechanically, he moves to throw away the umbrella toothpick, this time yellow with pink flowers. he halts just as he leans back to toss it into the bin.

he stares at it for a while, tilting his head. a slumping hollowness fills the gap in his chest. he's no longer a young boy, and all he's ever known are the dusty streets and salty air of this town. the stranger must be from a big, modern city, where they have bright digital billboards and warm restaurants open all day, every day – like seoul or new york, or something. he's seen the movies, watched them subbed and dubbed, but he never remembers much except for the quick chaotic swirl of life they all portray.

maybe, if he was born there instead, he could love. be loved. a church sits across from the bar, rather ironically, and nothing is a family except a man, a woman, and their child born in wedlock.

he shakes his head and crushes the thin yellow paper in his hand, tossing it away. he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he left.

night falls slowly. jungkook nurses another drink, this one blue instead of orange, and draws hearts and smiley faces into the condensation dripping down the glass.

a glint of light. jungkook glances over to the back wall, where a single chair has been set up in front of the wood-framed window. there's no glass – too hot for that – and they're thrown wide open, letting in the cool sea breeze. the waves glitter and twinkle in the background.

the stranger is setting up. he slips his sunglasses to the top of his head and jungkook drinks him in, alcohol forgotten entirely.

amongst the chatter, he sets up his guitar, tuning it quietly. the bar has no sound system but the acoustic guitar is clear and sharp as he strums a slow introduction to a sweet melody.

when he opens his mouth and honeyed lyrics spill out, jungkook knows he's fucked, knee-deep in the shit they call infatuation. the rest of the world seems to melt away, and maybe it's the way his fingers dance nimbly over the fretboard, or the way his head bobs to the bouncing tune, that makes his heart race rabbit-free with desire.

a man sits down with his mates and jungkook leans around them to watch the stranger sing. he radiates a careless confidence jungkook wishes he had everywhere. this man was a complete outsider, yet his voice was strong, rich and smooth as godiva chocolate.

jungkook snickers to himself. he never thought he'd meet anyone whose voice he'd compare to goddamn chocolate, but this stranger was a whole list of firsts.

he lays his cheek on his palm, and he doesn't even mind the sticky counter. he wonders where the man comes from, and how he came across the town – it barely shows up on maps, barely a smudge of civilisation on the coast, far from most other things. he sticks out like a sore thumb among sandals and pale polo shirts with his dark clothes and heavy boots, and jungkook knows the feeling. he appreciates the way his skin shimmers in the sunlight as if dusted with crushed pearls, and a bolt of shame buries itself in his stomach.

he shouldn't be thinking such things about this man. he's a perfect stranger and, for all jungkook knows, a hockey mask-wearing, machete-wielding killer. he can't go gallivanting after gorgeous men without even knowing their names.

time passes like a snap of the fingers. the crescent moon glows in the sky, surrounded by a blanket of stars. the last bar patrons gulp down their drinks and mosey out, calling goodbyes to the employee of the year, and the newcomer packs away his guitar into its case. he kicks the chair back under a nearby table and nods at the old man, accepting a wad of cash, and escapes out the back entrance.

"time to go, boy."

he glances up and nods, rushing an apology, and leaves his half-finished drink on the counter. he almost trips over his own bare feet, and races to the door when he hears that lovely v8 engine roar.

he reaches the entrance in time to watch his car pull out and rumble off into the darkness. he was fast – not one to fluff about. jungkook sighs softly, sinking down onto the porch step and shutting his eyes gloomily.

he had to go home. there was no other excuse he could make.

his eyes open, and as he struggles to his feet, something shines on the edge of the yellow light. he frowns and moves closer, stooping to get a closer look.

a watch?

he glances into the distance, where the man left, and picks it up. the face is cracked down the centre, and the hands are stuck at ten past five. he turns it over in his hands.

i think of you every minute.

he needs to find him.

—

jungkook wakes just before dawn with a raging hangover. he curses, dropping his hand into his bedside drawer and digging around for a pack of painkillers. he finds it eventually, and with his eyes screwed tight, swallows one dry. he sighs and digs the heels of his palms into his eyelids, waiting for the blurring colours dancing in his vision to fade.

he staggers around his mess of a bedroom. his belongings are strewn across the foot of the bed and the desk he no longer uses; the latter is piled high with dirty clothes and jewellery he rarely wears.

he grabs his surf suit and gropes his way through the dark house, dodging his surfboard leaning against the wall and combing his fingers through his curls as he readies himself for the day. his mind wanders and his gaze flicks to the broken watch sitting on the kitchen bench.

he runs his fingers over its vein-line splits and the bumps of the leather strap, worn down with time. he nibbles on his lower lip as he picks it up, battling himself. would it be weird to give it back directly? he wouldn't seem like a stalker, would he?

he sighs and shoves it into the pocket of his zip-up hoodie. he'll make up his mind later.

he spends the early morning forgetting his issues, reclining on his board while the waters bump him out to sea. the waves are calm this morning, and not even the pull of the water towards shore keeps him in place. with just a few strokes he escapes the pull like escaping orbit, and he catches every wave he can, grinning to himself when the white froth crashes over him and sends him tumbling down. he surfaces, wiping his hair from his eyes, and paddles his way to the edge of an oncoming wave, highlighted pink by the glow of the dawn.

when the sun yawns over the horizon, jungkook notices a figure by the sand. he squints, wondering briefly who would be up at such an hour, and doesn't notice the wave roaring closer behind him. he yelps as it crashes into him, burying him under the fluffy white foam.

he gasps and sputters as he crawls back onto his green and purple board, grumbling – he hasn't been wiped out like that for years.

the figure on the beach watches him. he hopes they didn't notice his fumble. they move along the beach, trailing dark footprints in the sand, and jungkook tilts his head as they take a seat against the pier's support beams. they remove something from their back and jungkook's eyes widen at the distinct shape of an acoustic guitar.

he smacks his head against his board. he made a fool out of himself in front of an attractive person – briefly, he wonders how hard it would be to get a shark to eat him at that very moment.

whether or not he should return the watch crosses his mind as the water laps around his knees. it is of no use to jungkook, and it must be important to the man if he carries it around. some selfish part of him urges him to keep silent, avoid the embarrassment of having to speak to someone so obviously out of his league. he sighs.

slowly, he paddles his way to shore, tugging the strap around his ankle impatiently, and retrieves the watch from his jacket pocket after drying his hand on it. his pile of clothes sits inconspicuously under a tree, and nothing he owns is expensive enough to care about losing. no one steals, anyway – they would find the perpetrator in minutes.

he wades through the foamy shallows with his board under his arm and the watch in his other hand. his footprints vanish in his wake with each pulse of the waves, and the warm sound of that guitar makes him gulp and revaluate his choice.

he can still turn around. he does not have to speak to him.

he pauses a metre away from him. he is as stunning as he was the night before, and he's switched out his form-fitting black top for a looser grey tank. jungkook swallows around his anxiety and clears his throat.

he glances up at him through those dark aviators and jungkook twitches a nervous smile. he sticks his board into the soft sand and waves.

"hello." his voice cracks. his face burns furiously as the man smiles slightly, lopsided and charming.

"hey."

his voice really is like chocolate. jungkook wrings his hands and thrusts out the watch.

"i think this is yours," he stammers, "i f-found it outside the bar, and it was where your car was and it's way too nice for anyone here to own it so i thought – so i think it's y-yours. um."

a beat. the man reaches for it, and he slides his thumb over its face with an odd sort of smile, somewhere between gratefulness and regret.

"thank you," he murmurs. he chuckles softly and fastens it over his wrist. "guess i can’t escape it. i'm yn, by the way. ln yn."

"jeon jungkook," he says, almost too eagerly. "i, um, heard you sing last night. at the bar. you were – you're really good."

another smile that has his heart slamming into his ribs. "thanks. didn't think anyone was listening, honestly."

"how could i not?" he kneels on the sand, tucking his feet beneath him. he crawls closer into acceptable conversation distance. "you were amazing! when i was little i always wanted to be a singer, y'know, perform like the idols i saw on television, 'cause it looked so fun and full with fans and a whole band of best friends who i could trust with anything but it's been twenty years and i'm so old and i still haven't gotten around to it—" he halts mid-word as if it is stolen right from his mouth. he laughs and scratches his warm cheek. "and... i'm rambling again, aren't i? sorry. i'm, um, not all that good with people. kind of paradoxical, given that i wanted to be an entertainer."

your smile only widens, fingers tapping absently at your guitar. "you're fine. you said something about twenty years of that? how old are you?"

"twenty." he laughs again, then worries that he's laying it on too thick. "w-what about you?"

you tell him, and grin. "i'm steadily getting up there, so don't you go thinking you're old, kid. who knows – maybe one day you'll get that stage and microphone you've been dreaming about."

he shakes his head, digging his fingers into the soft sand by his knees. "nah. i don't really think i'd be able to leave this place. s'all i've ever known, y'know? it's daunting." he leans forward. "but you'd never feel like that, right? you look like you've travelled the world three times over."

you glance over him, and all of a sudden his skin-tight suit feels invisible, hugging every curve and plane of him. "i do, huh? you seem like you want more than what you're given."

his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water and he pulls at his collar, hot. was that a compliment? an insult? he hasn't had a proper conversation with anyone for what feels like aeons.

you nudge his thigh with the toe of your boot playfully. "i was wrong, actually. you look like a steaming kettle."

"i-i'm sorry!" he almost squeaks. "i don't know how to talk to attractive people!"

he slaps a hand over his mouth and bolts to his feet. you gaze up at him with amusement and he stutters apologies and backtracks, shaking his head wildly and waving his hands.

he's doing nothing to get him out of the hole he's digging for himself. in fact, he's digging it even deeper.

"hey, hey," you interrupt with a bright grin, "kid. calm down. just – deep breaths, okay? i'm flattered you think that."

"r-really?" this is why he stays at sea. the sea never judges him for his terrible social skills. "oh."

you nod and shuffle to the side, patting the sand next to you. "why don't you sit for a while? i... want to get to know you better."

he does not trust his voice to remain steady, and only nods and sits on his feet next to you. after a moment, he shifts cross-legged, those doe-like eyes of his glimmering as he gazes at you with barely-hidden awe.

you strum your guitar. he traces the shape of your knuckles and fingers with his eyes. you wear a few rings, and your knuckles are big, but not scarred. a boxer? they wear gloves.

"won't the salt air rust your guitar?"

"it shouldn't," you reply. "i'll give the strings a good wipe-down afterwards, and i make sure she's acclimated to wherever i'm taking her. haven't had any problems so far."

he nods, fascinated. he tucks his knees to his chest, watching you play.

your fingers move so naturally, fluttering over the frets as you bob along to a quick tune. it feels powerful and sharp, and the melody flows so freely – like rivers splitting mountains.

then, you begin to sing.

jungkook's heart flutters, as if he's a teenager all over again, watching the popular boys from the corner of his eye laugh and chat with their friends. he never could go over there, introduce himself. quiet boy, odd boy, with his stutter and lisp and silly, silly crushes – he never found comfort in people. they said, run, rabbit, run, and chased him with sticks even when he told them to stop. he was the youngest, always, with his too-big t-shirts and his owlish gaze, and he supposes that's his curse – to be the last one chosen for teams, the only one left without a group for projects.

but then you glance at him, smiling through your song, with your elaborate tattoos and pretty eyes, and jungkook hopes you'll never leave. maybe, if you were nice, you would be his friend – his first friend. maybe you'd stay forever, and maybe he could hold your hand and play with the rings on your fingers when he grows anxious.

"how long are you staying?" he whispers.

you stop singing, but your fingers continue to float over the guitar, plucking and strumming. "a few months, maybe. i take it you've heard some things about me?"

"one of the aunties says you're an army deserter, but i don't think so."

you lift a brow and nudge his shoulder. he smiles into his crossed arms. "how would you know? maybe i am. maybe i'm an assassin and my guitar's actually a gun, like in john wick."

"no," he decides, "i think you're a gangster doing a drug run. mister park's your supplier, right? bartender man?"

you can't help but laugh at that, throwing your head back. he smiles as you shift your guitar, still beaming. "gangster? it's the tattoos, isn't it?"

"w-well, they're really awesome, and they look good on you." he flushes hotly, staring with his large dark eyes. "honest."

"thanks, jungkook," you say good-naturedly, and he warms at the sound of his name on your lips. you say it with such a lovely lilt, as if you're saying his name for him – as if it belongs to him. he nods into his arms, watching the sun rise over the fluffy pink horizon.

"you're welcome," he murmurs, and his heart stutters as you chuckle. "h-hey. do you know how to swim?"

you tilt your head and jungkook shifts onto his knees before you. "yeah. why?"

"have you ever surfed before?"

"can't say that i have." you glance at his board, planted in the sand, and give him a sly look. "if you're offering to show me how, i don't have the right clothes for it."

"you can just take off your pants and shoes." at your dirty grin, his golden skin flushes so dark you worry he might explode. "n-not like that! you can leave your underwear on!"

it isn’t much of an improvement.

"slow down, cowboy," you tease, patting his thigh. "have you eaten breakfast yet? i'll make you something first. then you can ask me to take my pants off."

"wait, you mean – at your place?"

"of course. i trust you not to give the government the coordinates of my safehouse. so, have any favourite meals, jungkook? not to toot my own horn, but i'm not half-bad in the kitchen."

handsome, nice voice, can cook... only god can help him, because he is smitten.

—

jungkook wakes up late one day. the sun is already up, and from the way it streams directly into his eyes – ten o'clock, maybe. he curls into the blankets and buries his head into his pillow, tugging it into his chest.

something smells good.

he sits up slowly, struggling to open his eyes, and stretches like a cat in a bed too large to be his own. his body aches, but its familiarity makes him smile, and he swings his legs over the edge of the bed into a pair of slides. he shuffles out of the bedroom, following his nose.

rounding the dining table, jungkook searches with his hands outstretched towards the sound and smell of sizzling bacon. he finds a t-shirt and wraps his arms around it, inhaling the comforting scent of your fresh pine and citrus body wash. he feels your laughter as he presses his cheek into your shoulder.

"good morning, kid."

"i told you to stop calling me that," jungkook mumbles.

"i'm sorry, darling. force of habit. you hungry?"

"mhm. hyung, wanna come out with me today?"

"you know that i'll never be as good as you, right? i don't look half as good as you on that board, either."

he shakes his head, pressing his lips to the base of your neck on the bump of your spine. "s’okay. i like watching you come out of the water."

you laugh and jungkook smiles softly. "you're insatiable."

"only for you."

you shake your head fondly as jungkook sighs quietly into your skin, warm breath fluttering against your shirt. you transfer the bacon to a plate and move out of jungkook's arms, making him whine. begrudgingly, he accepts a plate of eggs, bringing them to the table – you tuck his hair over his ear and slip it over his shoulder, clearing a space for your lips on the nape of his neck. he shivers as your lips trail down his jawline, over his collar, down his shoulder...

"who's the insatiable one now?" he asks, feathery light, and his eyes flutter shut as your hand slips under his shirt, gliding over his warm stomach.

"still you," you hum into his ear, grinning as he arches into you. "see? my little darling, so eager for my touch..."

he whines softly as you take his earring between your teeth and tug lightly. his stomach flips like a gymnast as you grab his thighs and spin him into the kitchen bench. late morning light sweeps in across your home, and everything cold and lonely outside these walls vanishes.

he smiles as he pushes lightly at your arms around his waist, tilting his head back to allow your lips better access to the delicate slope of his neck. "hyung... our breakfast will go cold..."

"that's alright," you murmur with a devilish grin. "i've got other things on the menu."

he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, a flush crawling up his neck. "you can have me tonight like usual, okay? i like routine."

you drop a kiss on his jaw and step back with a teasing shine in your eyes. you place your hands on your hips. "you know, if you only wanted me for my body, you could've told me. i wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of learning how you like your eggs and toast."

hopping off of the bench and into your arms, jungkook twists his hands around the back of your neck and rubs his cheek into your chest. his messy hair, scented always like the sea, tickles your skin.

"but i love that about you," he hums. "you're the only person who understands how i like them done."

"i know you do." you kiss his forehead, printing a minty tingle into his skin. "come eat. if you'd like, you can accompany me to the supermarket after breakfast – in case you've grown tired of staring at the water, day in and day out."

"i like the water. it's comforting – like the stars." he sits down at the table. "always there, always has been, always will be. everlasting – like my love for your eggs and toast."

you laugh, head tossing back, and jungkook can't help the smile that crosses his face. "they're so good that they turn you into a poet, huh? just shut up and eat, darling."

afterwards, he tags along with you to go grocery shopping, holding onto your shirt sleeve and sneaking a tub of ice cream into the trolley when you aren't looking. he huffs, pouting at the tiny cabbage halves sold as individuals – what a rip-off – and you help him find a larger one, nice and bright, from the basket beneath. he jumps onto your kitchen bench and catches an apple you toss at him, digging his teeth into its firm flesh and tearing off a crisp chunk. he tells you, it's a good one, and holds it out for you to accept. with your hands full of milk and bread, you lean forward and take a bite, keeping his gaze steadily all the way; sweeter than sugar, you say, and he wonders whether or not you're truly talking about the apple.

at high tide, jungkook takes your hand and his surfboard and skips his way to the beach, taking warm sandy paths lined by tickling reeds and brushes. he chases the tide, waving over his shoulder with a broad smile, and shows off for you as he drops onto the incoming beast of a wave.

his board glimmers on the water, a spot of purple on the deep blue, and his whoop carries on the wind as he launches himself high into the air, effortlessly gliding down in a perfect barrel roll. the foaming curl rolls over him and he snakes back and forth, cutting his hand through the glittering wave as he readies himself for his next trick.

you stand ankle-deep in the tide, hands in the pockets of your shorts. the curve of the shoreline twists around sun-bleached cliffsides and swaying treetops, and a young trio tries their hand at the next rolling wave. one rudely snakes in front of jungkook and immediately wipes out with a wobble and a cry.

you smile. they could never outshine your darling surfer boy, bright and beautiful as he is.

when the water recedes for the day, jungkook sweeps ashore by the pier. you wait for him – as you do most days – and grin under dark aviators, two ice-creams wrapped in white napkins in your hands. he races up to you and throws his arms wide around your shoulders with a breathless laugh.

you stumble at the force behind his body, narrowly avoiding rubbing ice-cream into his hair. "easy, tiger. fun day?"

"yeah," he pants, "so fun. you saw me, right? you saw?"

"i saw," you hum, pressing the warmth of his dark salt-damp waves against your cheek. "you were a goddamn monster, riding those big waves like that – couldn't take my eyes off of you, darling."

"i'm good at riding big things." he's spent too much time with you. he barely blushes anymore, which is a right shame – it's a lovely look on him, that hint of rosy pink on skin like spun gold. he traces the tattoo peeking out under your collar. "you would know."

"are you sure we're on the same page? maybe you should show me again," you suggest with a glint in your eye that leads to nothing but trouble, "to make sure that i know exactly what you're talking about."

he grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, and reaches for your hand without breaking gazes. he brings your hand to his warm pink lips and kisses your knuckles, running his silky tongue over the thick white cream, and his golden-whiskey eyes glimmer under the sun.

"yummy," he hums, "vanilla. the best out of the basic three – wouldn't you agree?"

"mm." he's a goddamn tease. what you wouldn't give to return the favour tenfold.

"hyung," he laughs, licking up the melting ice-cream cone in your hand, "my eyes are up here."

"but your lips are down there, and all of a sudden i'm very sure we were on the same page just now. are you done playing in the water for today?"

he purses his lips in mock thought, scooping ice-cream into his mouth with the tip of his tongue. "what happens if i say no?"

"then i'll tell you that there's a car over there, one that you seem to adore, that boasts tinted windows and sturdy suspension. haven't you always wanted to... take a ride in it?"

his face lights up. "wait, are you serious?"

"finish your ice-cream before you get in. please. otherwise, you're cleaning up any mess you make on those seats."

he winks and grabs his board, tucking it under his arm. "you won't regret this, baby."

"i'll be the judge of that, darling."

—

light warm fingers trace dark lines embedded in your skin. "what does it mean?"

he shivers as your arm cradles him close. "hm?"

"your tattoos," he whispers, warm honey eyes flickering up to yours. "do they mean anything?"

you turn on your side and smile at him, letting him twist his knees around your calves. he is warm, and soft, and the ocean breeze flutters through your sheer curtain drapes. "the big ones don't, really. i was young and stupid and wanted to look like more of a man, whatever the fuck that meant. dragons are cool. tigers are cool. why not get both?"

he laughs softly, eyes crinkling. "i like the dragon. he feels... alive, y'know, when you stretch and move your arms? like his wings are flapping."

"i'm glad you think so," you murmur, stroking his cheek. "hurt like a bitch when the lady doing it went over my spine."

he laughs again, sweet and innocent, and he places his palm beneath his cheek. he taps your chest, gently scraping his nails down your skin. "when i first saw you, i never thought you'd ever look at me twice. funny how things work out."

you tug him closer, linking your fingers over his shoulders with a content sigh. "you're a real pretty surprise, kook, you know that?"

he doesn't need to ask if it's a good thing. he knows it is from the way your lips linger on his forehead longer than they need to. he closes his eyes and smiles secretly into your skin.

"hey, kook?"

"mm?"

"are you happy?"

"of course i am, dummy." he sits up, propping himself up on his elbows. "want me to prove it to you?"

you narrow your eyes at him and he grins, kissing his index and middle finger and touching them to your cheek.

"how was it? did you feel the happiness?"

"i'm not completely sure. i think something fell off during transit."

he rolls his eyes and leans forward to land a big kiss on the same place on your cheek. "there you go, hyung. i love you."

you nod in satisfaction, brushing away the rebellious curl over his forehead that never stays back, no matter what he does to it. "thank you."

"are you going to say it back?"

"say what back?"

he yanks your pillow out from under your head and smacks it into your face.

"ow, ow – i love you! i love you," you laugh, battling the pillow, "i love you!"

you manage to steal it from him and he grabs his own, lifting it high above his head. you catch the pillow before it comes down on you like heaven raining down righteous fury. he squeaks as you tug it across your body, pulling him along until his face hovers an inch from your own.

against his own will, his eyes dart briefly down to your lips.

the next smile you give him is charged with familiar affection. "i love you – i love my darling surfer boy with galaxies in his eyes."

"better," he breathes, "for now. one day, i'll get you back for that."

your smile fades. a crease mars your brow as you place your hand on his hip. "jungkook, you know i'm..."

"i know," he interrupts. "let's just pretend, okay? pretend as if your house isn't full of boxes."

he lowers his head to your chest and you know the conversation is over. he returns to tracing your tattoos, humming a soft melody, and you hold him tighter. if only you could forget enough to pretend, for the remainder of the morning, as if your wardrobe doesn't hold only two outfits left.

an hour later, jungkook flicks on the kitchen light.

"you've been avoiding us, son."

he flinches and whips around; his mother sits at the end of the kitchen bench, cupping a mug of tea in her hands. her eyes are downcast. his father stares at him, his arms crossed over his chest, behind the counter.

"i'm n-not avoiding you," he replies, and hates the weakness in his voice.

his father glances at his clothes and jungkook turns away, folding his arms. blue shirt, loose shorts. the lingering scent of pine and citrus. "those aren't yours."

"what does it matter if they aren't?" he retorts. "would you rather me mess up your floors, dripping water from my suit everywhere?"

"watch your tone," he snaps, "boy. those clothes are his, aren't they? that man with the boy-racer car?"

jungkook scoffs. "what do you want me to say? no, they don't belong to him? whatever – we’ve already been over this. i'm going to my room."

"stay," his mother pleads, shutting her eyes. "please, jungkook, listen to your father."

jungkook bites his tongue.

"you will not mess around with that man any longer," his father demands. he lifts a hand as jungkook opens his mouth to argue. "don't bother pretending as if you aren't. we're your parents. we know these things. he's no good for you."

"and how would you know?" he shoots back. "have you ever spoken to him? no! all you know of him are rumours from people who haven't even met him!"

"do not raise your voice at me!" he thunders. "i know trouble when i see it, boy, and that man is it. do you even know where he's from? where his family is? for all you know, he could be a married man!"

"i trust him to tell me important things!" he knows how damn pathetic he sounds, like the teenager in a coming-of-age movie believing with all their heart that they know best. "i don't need to know every detail of his life, and i certainly don't need you lecturing me about him!" he bites the inside of his cheek. "can't you... just be happy for me? i have never, ever, met someone who cares for me like he does. he makes me feel special and – and loved, and he doesn't poke me with sticks or laugh at the way i talk."

"not yet, perhaps. but he will. you'll see, jungkook. do you really believe that a man like that can do anything but break your heart? he is covered in tattoos, for christ's sake. you'll be nothing but a vague memory the second he pulls out of our town."

"would a man who'd forget me in a day remember how i like my toast? buy extra sunscreen with his own money because he knows how fast i burn through mine? would a bad man care so much for me?" he cries. "you barely cared when i came home, crying, because of the kids at school. w-why do you hate that i've found someone who won't shove me off a cliff as a prank? i'm an adult, whatever you may think, and i can make my own decisions on who i love!"

his father leans over the counter, his expression grim and severe. "that man does not love you, jungkook. he's so much older than you. he's using you, taking advantage of how damn naïve you are – you're temporary, son. if you know what's good for you – of course you do, you're all grown up – then you'll stop seeing him. you'll get a full-time job, or go study, and forget that he ever passed through here."

jungkook's hands ball into tight fists. his nails dig into his skin. "he makes me feel important," he mutters. "he makes me feel. before he arrived, all i did was bag groceries and surf and now, because of him, i look forward to waking up. even if he is all that you said, why won't you just let me make my own mistakes? is it really him that worries you, or the fact that you're no longer the only influence on me?"

“jungkook!”

he shakes his head, fisting the blue shirt at the collar. it is soft and smooth and still warm. "i'm not a child anymore." he takes a deep breath and lifts his chin. "i love him. i love ln yn. maybe for a year, maybe for forever, but all that matters is that i do. the way he makes me happy is all that matters. i don't care what you have to say about it because even if i believed you, i can't turn it off. i love him, and he loves me, and i'm leaving."

he strides up the stairs, ignoring the shouts of his name, and his heart hammers in his chest as he shuts his door and grabs his duffle bag, throwing open his closet doors and shoving in clothes by the handful through the brimming tears.

he has never spoken to his father like that. he fears the heavy steps and the loud voice but he finds that he doesn't care – there is nothing he can do to make him care because he has a man who loves him unabashedly and will hold his hand and kiss him silly in front of the church steps.

"he'll never let you come back to me."

he never even heard the door open. he glances over his shoulder – his mother leans against the white frame, wide eyes tracking his every move.

"i'm sorry," jungkook mutters, rolling up a pair of shorts. "but i can't stay here. i-i've already overstayed my welcome a couple of years. it's time i moved on from this stupid place so i can finally—" he inhales "—be free."

"with the tattooed man?"

"yes. he's gentle." he shoves a handful of cables and charging docks into a side pocket and drops his phone inside. "he's gentle when he wants to be and he's been nothing but gentle with me. if everything works out the way i hope it does... maybe you can meet him. one day. at our home, maybe, and i'll have that dog i've always wanted."

"please don't leave, jungkook. he just doesn't want you to be hurt—"

"no. i'm going." he zips up the bag and slings it over his shoulder, glancing at his mother. his voice softens. "i'm sorry, but there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. i'll call you, okay? and send pictures of the meals i cook, so you know i'm fine."

"jungkook, please." his mother catches his arm. "you're my only boy, you understand? i know that all children have to spread their wings eventually, but i never thought that it would be like this. stay."

he shakes his head and pulls himself out of her grasp. "i love him. i love him and i'm so much happier for it." he sighs. "i'll talk to you tomorrow, mother."

he sneaks out the back door, little bare footsteps nudging apart blades of cool dewy grass, and he knows the path home like the backs of his eyelids. he picks up the pace when he reaches halfway, and he prays he's not too late.

you open your front door to round brown puppy eyes. "kook? what's wrong?"

"i wanna come with you."

you blink, at a loss for words. he slips inside the bare room, all the parts of you packed away into your car. early morning light smooths long pale shadows along the tiled floor.

stepping closer, you take his chin between your thumb and forefinger and tilt his head up, kissing him gently. he melts into it, his lips slightly chapped but with the lingering sting of his mint toothpaste.

"hm. no alcohol." you consider him silently and he shuffles his feet, gaze flicking over your face nervously before darting to the ground. "i don't think the floor is all that interesting; chin up, darling. what made you change your mind?"

he exhales shakily. that is not a no. "you make me really, really happy, hyung," he admits. "like... i wake up excited to love you, y'know? i keep catching myself thinking about the future – one where i'm with you. i think about reading books next to you, exploring restaurants with you, getting a dog with you... doing warm domestic shit with you." he lowers his eyes to the floor again, roughly rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. "it's okay if you don't feel the same. i just wanted to tell you before you left."

you separate his hands and rest your temples together. "who told you i don't think like that, too?" you murmur into his ear. when you pull back, your grin is broad and bright, and hesitant excitement bubbles in his stomach. you gesture to his bag. "is that really all you're taking?"

"y-yeah! the important stuff."

you beckon, hand outstretched, and jungkook slips the strap off his shoulder and places it across your palm. you jerk your head towards the open front door, behind which waits your car, the boot open and filled with boxes and bags of memories lovingly tucked away between layers of paper and bubble-wrap. your guitar rests in the backseat. jungkook jumps down the front steps as you place his bag on top of the others and shut the boot, glancing back over your shoulder.

"you nick my kit anyway," you grin. "c'mon, then. you can ride shotgun."

for the first time in many years, hope sparks like a flare in his chest. he crashes into you, arms tight enough to make you wheeze, and buries his cheek into your shoulder.

you stroke his hair, closing your eyes. "are you sure you want to come with me, darling?"

"certain as the sun."

he steps back, hands loose on your arms, and smiles – giddy, glowing, and gorgeous. poetry's never been your strong suit but even you can see the magic between his lines of verse.

you slip your hand into his and bring him around to his seat, but stop before he can step inside. you slide off the sunglasses from atop your head and flip them around, setting them on his nose, and he laughs quietly, nudging them up with his knuckles. he presses a light kiss to your cheek and disappears into your car, tugging the door closed, and you shake your head with a smile as you take your place next to him and behind the wheel.

the engine roars and he sits back, finding your hand on the gearstick. behind the sunglasses, his eyes glimmer with all that is good and bright, and his chest tightens as if he's run a marathon with the growing familiarity of a thudding joy.

"so," he breathes, his voice bright with curiosity, "where to next?"

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