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blueberryarchive · 1 year ago

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Off The Races

In which you, the sweetheart of America and famous actress, gets tired of the director's bullshit and Taehyung, your two times winner Nascar boyfriend, it's called to "calm you down".

♡Pairing: Racer!Taehyung & Actress!Reader

♡Genre: 1950's Hollywood au, fwb

♡Word Count: 2.3k

♡Warnings: Mention of drugs and alcohol, drunk driving, sexism, penetration, oral, very dramatic lol

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

California, 1952

The makeup seemed to melt into your skin as the scorching California sun beat down on your face, blonde hair in voluminous waves tickling your shoulders. You didn't want to admit it, but the gold of the wig made your tan glow like a goddess.

A goddess on the brink of madness. The kind to let thunder fall on all the men who praised you with their words and profaned you with their eyes.

The lights that were put in front of you when singing action, the childish phrases that your new director wanted you to say in a tone of pure innocence. They made you tremble with disgust, but your agent had fought so much to get you this role and you, with so much time in this business, still didn't know how to say no to a good role that would catapult you back to heaven.

You loved the cameras, the attention, and the screams of the young women and girls seeking your divine attention in public. Be the cliché rag-to-riches icon. Icon of hope for America. America's little sweetheart.

Even when you seemed to be failing, you could hear people gasp in the streets at the sight of your emerald dress full of beads and stones, the tulle piled up inside your little car. A thin veil of whitish powder delicately covered your nostrils, the red lipstick smeared on your dress, and the long scarf that floated out of your Disco Volante, the cute car that Taehyung gave you a couple of months ago. The car looked like a red bullet flying through the streets, the palms shading your clown-like theatre makeup.

Your right hand, covered in lace, moved as abruptly against the steering wheel as if you were driving alone through the streets, dodging the other cars by almost brushing their rear bumpers.

From your left hand, dangled a cigarette that was finishing with the seconds and the harsh wind. You didn't know when you'd light it on, maybe between the time you ran out screaming that you wouldn't do a tenth take of the same fucking scene and when your car seemed to roar just under your stiletto heels.

No one chased you, not even your agent, he knew it would be worse if they treated you like a child to convince you to be submissive. Much less that son of a bitch of a director that thought he could get into your panties for knowing how to look behind his glasses and yell 'Cut!' over and over again.

On the other hand, Taehyung was finishing his cigarette leaning against his red Hudson Hornet, one of his most precious jewels after you.

The workshop was alive with the noise of men talking and laughing, machines, and the roar of engines being tested. His car was being checked for the race on Sunday, and he looked into the engine himself whenever he could, even when he had a crew of mechanics.

His favorite part was wiping the towel over the car to give it the finishing touch, his last name on the side next to a 7 painted in white. It was beautiful. He felt his chest swell with pride every time he did it.

The Korean boy who played with cars made from milk cartons and soda caps. Now a two-time Nascar championship winner.

He dropped his cigarette butt to the ground as Little James, one of his mechanics, called several times from the small office at the end of the workshop. The telephone was in Little James' hand with a face of surprise and terror. The corner of Taehyung's lip lifted because he knew who could cause that expression with just a look and a simple action.

He walked slowly, keeping the cigarette box in the sleeve of his white shirt. Grabbing the phone, he asked Little James to leave him alone with a single raised hand.

"Now what?"

"She did it again, Kim. I don't know what I'm going to do with her."

"You should throw her off a bridge and tell her that'll make her more famous" Taehyung chuckled wiping his oily hands on the fabric of his shirt. Taehyung could almost hear your agent squinting his eyes under his bottle-bottom glasses.

One of these days you would kill him from a heart attack, Taehyung thought that was your purpose.

"I don't know where she's gone but we need to finish at least three scenes today and-" the man stammered. "Kim, she's wearing a dress that costs twice my salary. She needs to stop acting like a child, you should control her."

"Mmm," Taehyung snorted. "You've been with her for years, dear Carl. You've been handling her since she turned sixteen and still don't know how to tell her to calm down? To fucking stop her nagging?"

"No" he complained, not understanding the sarcasm in Taehyung's voice. "Since she turned twenty I don't know what to do with her"

Taehyung rolled his eyes "You can calm down, Carl" he assured with a serene voice.

"Are you going to look for her?"

"Yeah, cancel the whole week too, and tell that fucking director of yours not to try to change the actress because he's going to regret it"

"Do you know who you're talking about? Mr. Truman doesn't take shit from anyone, not even her"

"If they take her out of the movie, you won't find anyone like her"

"Kim..." Carl sighed in disappointment, he more than anyone knew it was the truth.

"Goodbye, Carl" Taehyung put the phone down, searching for his motorcycle keys.

You were on one of the highest hills, revealing a city of papers and moving images.

The air around you was sweet and heavy; the palms were unfazed by the desperate heat. You gripped the wheel tightly looking up the rocky steep, of course you thought about it. You're also not trying to lie to yourself when you hear the sound in your head of how your body falls sharply, hitting each sharp stone.

You took a deep breath and looked inside your car, white leather decorated to the smallest detail. A shuddering hand grabbed the bag on the passenger seat, a bottle so small it looked like a toy; with your fingernail covered in red varnish, you picked up the white dust.

"What do you think you're doing?" your body tensed upon hearing the unfathomable voice of your boyfriend. Or so the magazines said, not that it bothered you that it was called that.

His motorcycle was behind the car, high waisted jeans and sculpted white tee. A feast to the eyes. He came to you with slow steps, lighting a cigarette on his oily hands while he analyzed the scene in front of him: the biggest dress he has seen and your dilated pupils.

You cocked your head at Taehyung, his eyes unreadable. Your heart pounded when you saw him, eyes narrowed by the scorching sunlight, his eyebrows almost knit together with the lit wrinkled cigarette on his lips.

They had already been five months since the first time you two met and the ineffable splendor that exuded from Taehyung was such, that every time you saw him, you felt like a schoolgirl. A girl having her first infatuation upon knowing what a man was; not the kind who pulled your hair to get your attention but one of those men who fix things and says the right thing all the time.

Taehyung didn't talk much, he kept his voice like a rivulet, firm but gentle. You loved that about him, you loved when he would say the strangest things to you and then adorn it with "my love."

For example: "Don't you think if you're going to go up a hill at noon, at least have something lighter, my love?" You didn't know if he was talking about the dress or the cocaine that was spreading away from your fingernail.

"For the moment, it suits me perfectly, honey" You got out of the car removing your sunglasses to see him without the dark tint. His smell of smoke and perfume eternalized your nerves.

"What are you doing here?" you said, pleased with the view.

"Your agent is worried about you"

"Let him worry, he doesn't know what awaits him on this shoot"

"I thought you wanted this role" his hands slid to the tight part of your waist, the smoke of both of your cigars blinding you.

"It's not the role I want, Taehyung dear" You looked at him with half-closed eyes, drunk with obsession.

"Mmhm," was all he said, letting smoke out of his nose. You didn't realize when but you exhaled when you felt how the dress no longer tightened your waist; the open zipper on your back.

"And what does my doll want?" he asked, throwing the cigar from your mouth away, spitting his.

"My face...everywhere" you smiled just thinking about it. Taehyung gently squeezed your breast, studying your face.

"I want women to cut their hair to look like me and for men to masturbate in their bathrooms just by watching me on TV" a moan escaped your lips as you felt Taehyung's tongue cool your neck.

"What else?" said he leaving wet kisses all over your chest.

"I want-" your mind was overflowing with flashing pictures, "I want to enter rooms with a simple dress, and people to still make a fuzz about it, for them to think it's easy." You sighed, hearing the fabric break under his hands.

"What's easy?" He stopped the trail of kisses to see your face, close enough to smell the alcohol on your tongue.

"To be me." You smiled, him too. He grasped your untouched finger, still covered with the angel dust, took your wrist, and began to brush his gums with your index, the fine powder disappearing with his saliva. You never looked away.

He took your face in his grubby hands, cupped your cheeks, and drank you in like it was the first time, the last too. With a kiss, he pressed you against the side of the car. Putting his hands beneath your knees, he lifted you to take you to the hood.

Number two of the things you discovered about him, it's the way he could make you melt. His hands opened your knees and broke the last pieces of the detailed skirt, glitter and stones flew in the air.

The only thing you could do was let him do his part, you loved watching him perform. He crawled on top of you, the metallic noise of the hood sinking because of the weight. He ripped your white panties letting your pussy feel the cool air. "Oh, honey." You purred with a cocaine-induced smile, the alcohol making your whole core blush. "The way you move, makes me feel like one of your precious cars"

He laughed while going down on you, his tongue found the throbbing nub beneath all the fabric and stones sticking to your sweaty skin. You yelped.

"I love the way you taste." He whined nibbling the skin of your inner thigh, he was going insane and you loved it. His tongue made its way to your core moving his head like a wild animal, growling while he ate you out.

You couldn't give two fucks about who saw you or heard you, though, it was difficult people were going to when you were in the middle of nowhere. What a shame, really. You would've loved letting people see the stoic Kim Tae Hyung going down on you. His head lifted looking for air and looked at you with hooded eyes.

"Take my belt off, pretty thing." He demanded in a low voice, swallowing your taste. You obeyed with a rush.

He took your hand and spit on it, with the raise of his brows you understood. You started wetting his shaft with his spit. His eyebrows furrow, tilting his head letting the sweat on his neck glist in the harsh light. "Fuck" he whispered and you felt so proud of your hard work.

After a few pumps, he couldn't control himself. His body fell on top of yours, softly putting your hands behind your head. His cock find your entrance and you both twitched at the feeling, he moved as slowly as he could. Breathy groans came out of his throat.

"What about me, darling?" He started saying brushing his lips in your ear. "I'm not a billboard or a little shiny statue. Can you still take my adoration as something precious?" His heart was at the edge of a cliff, the tears too.

Your body trembled and laughed nervously. You've heard so many adorations from men, took them all like thrown roses.

This one felt like a dagger, a begging instead of a prayer.

"Don't be silly, Kim." Was everything you could say.

"When have I been a fool with you?" He interrupted, sinking the blade a little more when he stopped smiling. Gripping your hands harder under his.

You denied. The in-and-out had you seeing stars around him. "Never" you exhaled.

"Let me take you on a date, please, honey" he whined leaving sweet pecks in your face and neck. "Let me treat you right"

You breathe so hard you shake, and with a roll of his skilled hips, you rolled your eyes, biting your lips. This man took his job so seriously, even when he was begging.

"I never liked jesters anyways" you finally said, he smiles and pushed his body up without stopping his hips, taking the sweaty top off.

His thumbs caressed your tummy and grip your sides so hard you squinted, he went as hard as possible. The car creaked under the movements.

Taehyung's wet hair dripped salty drops. The sun made a halo around his body behind him and you could swear you were in heaven.

You hummed when you came, almost singing away your orgasm. It came so soft and smooth, the high was lovely.

The boy on top of you groaned and smiled brightly, laughing so beautifully when his cum started coming out in hot shots. "God" he laughed even more throwing his head back. "You're insane" he denied seeing the mess of green diamonds, dripping mascara in your face, your sweaty wig letting your hair peek through the cap. "I love it" he whispered kissing your hand with adornment.

"I love it too" you sighed.

a/n: Thanks to @peachypinkygloss for giving me the courage to actually write, lots of love. This two characters have been in my mind and my journal for quiet some time and it's time i give it a try.

You can write to me on private if you have some critics or want to help me on my grammar.

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