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tastesousweet · 1 year ago

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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (iv) - pt 1 pt 2 p3

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : maybe the only way matt and y/n can stand being around each other is to fuck each other

warnings : weed, alcohol/drinking, smut (slightly rough but not very?? pretty filthy tho), profanity

mickey speaks : rlly hate how the smut turned out but maybe its jus me being a perfectionist + i changed a lot of shit ab UCLA (mostly grad dates) to fit into my narrative okay, i knowwww. only sorta proofread bc ive been busy, enjoy <3

THIS IS PART FOUR GO READ THE FIRST THREE PARTS DUHH

"FUCK!"

the turn of spring to summer in LA is typically the most eventful time of year. more parties are thrown than ever before in celebration of the season change, the boom of tourism begins, and of course school years are ending.

you celebrated your college graduation from UCLA only a week ago, with a large dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant and your friends all excitedly in attendance. matt was also there but you let it be known you invited him only so you wouldn’t feel bad (though he claims he wouldn’t have cared if you did or not).

you also shared an excruciating breakfast that same morning with your parents (both suffocating you with their traditional views that reminded you exactly why you moved hours away from them to attend school). you were cautious to wear items of clothing that would hide your tattoo and kept any conversations on the topic of your schooling rather than outside interests (not that they even care to ask) out of fear you may expose your routine of going out to party most weekends.

your brother was also at breakfast and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep a positive attitude for you. you immediately noticed his wet face when you gave him a full hug after your ceremony, which made you cry, mostly out of missing him and love.

"it's not that bad!" andrea looks at you in the mirror as she continues to give herself soft curls.

“how the fuck did i manage to make this one downturned and this one up,” you reply in frustration while you point to either wing of eyeliner on your grimaced face.

andrea giggles and aims the stick of the curling iron at makeup remover lying in the sink, “just get a q-tip and fix it, cariño.” (“honey”)

you move around her to grab a q-tip from a small jar in the medicine cabinet before following her instructions, getting extra close to the mirror.

remi barges in the bathroom dressed in a mini skirt and a detailed patterned top, “hi nick!” she exclaims to her phone screen, placing it down on the counter while untwisting her lipgloss.

you can see nick’s awkward face as he sits in the car (making his camera jump at any dip or bump in the road), “sooo…this better be erin’s bathroom ceiling im staring at.”

“and if i say it’s not?” remi giggles to herself before rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss further.

“i’d say what the fuck are you guys still doing at home?! y/n’s our mutual friend that even got us into this bitch and i’m not just walking into some sorority house acting like i know any of these fucking people.”

“and we didn’t go to college!” chris exclaims to add to the point.

“yeah, we didn’t go to fuckin’ college!” nicks adds before his face falters, “the fuck does that have to do with it?”

chris’ voice is low as he explains himself, “you know…like, obviously we aren’t gonna know shit about some delta kappa omega?”

nick comedically pauses and the three of you watch the screen to see him staring at chris with no facial expression, “…okay chris. anyway, get your asses over here ASAP. we need you.”

“okay, we don’t need them. you’re being dramatic just chill out,” matt huffs from the driver’s seat.

“hey, we’re leaving soon i promise, nick.” andrea assures and remi picks her phone off of the counter to show the girl.

"thanks, but we'll be fine. erin told me where to find her, let's not get ridiculous." matt continues dismissing the conversation he finds so unnecessary.

you hold yourself back from saying anything but you can’t help but wonder just how close erin has got to matt. and how she managed to hold any conversations without pissing him off (no way a little lap dance dismissed matt’s entire personality). she hasn’t been too explicit about anything happening between them, only cluing you all in through her frequent mentions of him.

chris’ loud voice beams, “yeah, you ladies take your time! nick gimme the phone-” chris’ smiley face takes up remi’s screen now that the phone has shifted, “you know, who the fuck are we to tell any of you to rush?!” he sees andrea in view (with a form fitting dress and warm toned makeup) and can’t help the rush of words that decide to spill from his mouth, “andreayoulookfineasshitbytheway- and i just think, uh,” he giggles at his poor recovery and at andrea shaking her head and biting the side of her mouth (her very andrea way of blushing). “um, yeah, fuck, what was i sayin’?” he turns to matt.

nick laughs from the backseat at chris’ comment (he thinks it’s generally embarrassing opposed to andrea who finds herself embarrassingly flattered by him).

“nothing important, say your goodbyes now, we just pulled up.” matt gives his short advice and takes the phone. “see you, bye,” he hangs up and chris punches his arm immediately.

“dudeee!” chris groans. matt doesn’t give any reaction besides handing nick his phone back without looking at him.

“we’ll see them in less than an hour, get your shit.” matt tilts his head out the door as he opens it and exits the car.

“he’s so annoying.” chris huffs and turns to nick as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“i don’t know him, he’s your fuckin’ brother.” nick shrugs and acts clueless. chris laughs into his seat and nick knows making chris laugh makes him feel way better than just shitting on matt would’ve.

matt opens his door again, “get your gigglin’ asses out here!”

౨ৎ

matt's suprised he's lasted this long at this party without a fucking drink.

he's seen just about every partygoer trope there is - drunk guys and "you need to sober up" girlfriends, overly excited drunks far too impressed by each new song that plays, the loner type who strictly speak within their circle even when wasted, et cetera - and has managed to lose everyone he knows in this crowd, leaving him alone with DD responsibilities in a sorority house bouncing with excitement in honor of their “graduating senior sisters.”

speaking of, he’s only spoken to erin once all night. he did see you with your friends briefly, early in the night before you were swooped away with nick to be introduced to some guy he just met.

so like all times matt is bitchless and bored, he decides to smoke. he reaches in his jacket pocket for the joint he rolled before the party, in case of emergency.

but just as he raises the lighter towards his mouth he's interrupted by an airy, high pitched voice, “um, excuse me!” matt looks over, “yeah, you. sorry, you can't have drugs in the house.” the blonde frowns.

“it’s weed…” matt clarifies, taking the joint from between his lips.

“uh huh! and that is prohibited, outside please,” she guides her hand, drink in tow, towards a sliding door behind her.

he's not gonna nitpick with some chick about the umbrella term of 'drugs' or debate whether the alcohol she's drinking lies under it, so he just nods his head “cool,” and removes himself from his spot against the wall to walk around her and out of the door.

౨ৎ

you slump against a nearby couch as you recover from a hour of dancing alongside your best friends. remi sits next to you and leans her head on your shoulder as you both look around at the room full of people (a shade of deep fuchsia covers the room from multiple LED lights around the large house).

when you feel your own blinks become slower you shrug your shoulder and look at remi's profile, "we should probably get up rem, or else we'll fall asleep. this couch is way too comfy." you sigh.

"mmm... yeah. kinda want another drink but," she turns to look behind you both, "the kitchen's all the way over there..."

"now i know you two aren't tapping out of my party already?!"

you both look over to see erin dressed in a small glittered party dress, making her shine as she walks closer. "erin, where the fuck have you been?!" you excitedly rise from the couch and give her a hug.

"it's actually so fucking hard to host a graduation party, especially with my sorority sisters- they've had me doing all these traditions and shit, i haven't had time to talk to like anyone!" she explains to both you and remi.

"well, at least you look good, bitch!" remi adds and holds erins hand to make her twirl in her dress.

"thank you," she blushes and looks down then back to you two, "have either of you seen the triplets?"

"i think nick's off with some dude and chris is 'teaching' drea how to play beer pong..." you trail off and look to remi, "have you seen matt at all...?"

"not recently, i don't think so?" she looks over to erin.

"oh okay, that's fine. just wanna make sure they're having funnn." she draws her words out as she plays with the ends of her hair and smiles. you and remi can both tell she something bothers her more than she's leading on.

"e, come with us to grab drinks," you hold both remi and erin's hands and guide them with you to the kitchen.

౨ৎ

matt hadn't realized how hard he was staring at you dancing until chris came up to him with wild eyes and a loud laugh, making him snap away from whatever trance he was in.

"you okay, matt? your brain's not buzzkillin' right?"

matt straightens himself to no longer lean on the wall, "no."

"you sure?"

"yes?"

"maybe you should say fuck DD and have a drink or two, might give you somethin' to smileee aboutttt!" chris laughs.

"don't be stupid, chris. 'm not driving drunk."

"obviously we'd get an uber, matt." he emphasizes with a 'duh' attitude. "i get funnier when drunk, not stupid."

"right," matt offers a light laugh.

he throws a hand over matt's shoulder as they both face the crowd of dancing people, "god damn andrea's fucking hot- swear she's been feelin' me all night," chris hypes himself up then brings his red solo cup towards his mouth.

matt's eyes shift from you to andrea, who's limbs move just as freely and smile is just as wide. "that's good, that's good," matt nods. "she's nice."

"she's everything, bro." chris shakes his head in awe, "but, uh, do you have any cash on you?" matt turns his head, eyes showing his annoyance. "i'll pay you back, you know that matt. just like $20 to get me in the poker game outside."

"chris-"

"please, matt," he begs.

matt lets a heavy sigh out through his nose as he rustles in his pocket for his wallet. "you're my favorite now," chris kisses matt's hand quickly before he's heading off with a crumpled twenty in hand.

matt's eyes follow him until he's fully gone, then he's turning to look for you again. only this time it's not a challenge at all, you're already on your way.

you pull at the bottom of your little black dress (which rode up some due to your eccentric dancing) as you approach. "hi, matttt," you sing. it's known to most of your friends that when you're drunk your emotions are ten times stronger, and right now you're feeling extra carefree.

matt can tell you've definitely had a few drinks, so he tries to keep the conversation civil. "hey," he cracks a smile.

"are you not having fun?" you ask. you've wondered ever since you recognized him across the room.

"sure, i'm having fun." he shrugs, keeping eye contact with you.

you notice his all black outfit and blue jean jacket, "we kinda match," you look down at yourself then towards him, "i had a jean jacket too...it's um, in a closet somewhere i think."

"then you must have great style," matt jokes.

"oh i think that was clear before i happened to match you," you joke making use of your hands while speaking.

"mhm, sure..."

"so, do you wanna dance with us?" you smile in question.

"absolutely not," matt laughs and brings a fist to his mouth.

your smile drops, "right, you watch us dance but laugh at the thought of participating...?" you move your eyes to each side, "'cause that makes sense, matthew."

"no, it's not like that. you go have fun, i'm just not one to make myself look stupid for fun." he shrugs.

"so we...look stupid?" you squint your eyes in amusement knowing matt is trying to be such a hard ass for no reason.

"you said it," he laughs.

now you're a bit annoyed. "so you go back to being a loser all alone right here in this corner, and i'll go back to this stupid party and enjoy myself."

"alright," he rolls his eyes, "go ahead and be dramatic about it."

"will do," you sigh and begin to walk over to your friends, presenting matt with the gift of your middle finger directed towards him behind your back.

and matt thinks he just might take chris' advice on having a drink or two.

౨ৎ

you hate that matt is still on your mind.

and it irritates the fuck out of you that you're now giddy seeing him for a third time tonight. but to give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you've gotten to the point where you're so buzzed you've become horny.

you came outside on the hunt for remi, who told you she was looking for erin, and ended up finding all three triplets at a makeshift poker table full of rowdy men.

and as some wise person must have said: when horny, find someone to fuck.

"y/n!! whatcha doin'?" nick notices you and gives you a wide grin offering you a chair near the table.

"hey, nick. 'm sorry i can't really stay i just, um, need to borrow matt."

matt. who isn't paying much attention to anything around him now that the four shots he took settled. with his phone in one hand and a beer resting in his other, he's bound to be startled when you come behind him and whisper in his ear, "heyyy, sorry to bother but can we talk?"

he blinks and looks behind him, "y/n?!"

"come," you motion with your fingers and begin to walk away as he rubs his fingers over his eyes and starts to stand up.

"yeah?" he asks getting closer to you.

you wordlessly bring him back into the heated house and navigate until you find a mostly empty hallway (all while he keeps annoying you by repeatedly asking what you want).

his back falls against the wall, "way to confuse the fuck outta me. what's good?" the hand you were once holding dives into his front pocket out of habit and the other continues to hold his beer.

"i just need you to take me home."

"y/n, i'm no longer driving myself home, let alone you," he shakes his head.

"right, i figured, smartass."

"glad those comprehension skills still work. grab your phone and order an uber, 'm sure you dont need my help."

"matt. i want you to come home with me." you sigh in defeat.

"oh shit." matt dead pans. "ohhh shit." his eyes widen before a a laugh breaks through his closed mouth, "sunshine...you're tryna' fuck?" he looks up at you from his spot against the wall.

you scramble a lie to make yourself look less pathetic, "you're a last resort trust me," you roll your eyes. this was way better in your drunken mind than reality.

"still made the list though!" matt jokes, "wow. who knew you were so romantic? bringing me all the way over here just to tell me you wanna fuck. and at your place? how sweet," he can't help but poke fun.

"fuck you," you say under your breath.

"well only because you asked so kindly!" he goes to wrap his arms around you before you push him back against the wall.

"are you done?"

"i guess." he shrugs.

"so will you or not," you try to keep your confidence and not allow matt's comments to embarrass you. "it's fine if not, just-"

"yeah," matt's smirk slowly grows. "meet me out front, i'll have to go lie to my brothers but i can be quick."

౨ৎ

"why am i shocked you're actually here?" you ask as you shut the car door and look over to matt, phone screen reflected on his face.

the car begins to speed out of the neighborhood as he turns off his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket, "let's be serious for one second," he reaches over and pulls at the end of your dress, "you wear this and look like that and you think i'd say no? i'd be crazy. i mean, yeah, your fuckin' mouth can irritate me to pieces but-"

"actually just shut up, matt" you remove your head from leaning against the window and move across the middle seat to kiss him. you pull apart fairly quickly though, "how are you less mean yet extra annoying when drunk? i shoulda went with my last last resort." you shake your head.

matt grumbles before leaning to kiss you again.

౨ৎ

after a car ride full of teasing and rushed kisses, you both made it to your apartment complex.

you fumble with your purse as you search for your house keys, distracted by matt’s lips moving over your neck. you pinch your eyes shut in frustration, “mattt, give me a second,” you nudge your shoulder into him to get him off of you.

“let me see it,” he grumbles grabbing your purse and finding your keys with ease, moving his arms around you and unlocking the door.

“you make it look so easy,” you breathe and open the door with your body pressed against it.

matt lets go of you and follows you inside.

you lean a hand on the wall next to the door to quickly remove your heeled shoes and matt watches you with dopey eyes and glossy, excessively bitten lips before deciding to take his shoes off as well.

you walk closer to him once he’s done, your dress riding up your legs and barely covering your ass at this point. you look up to him and softly ask, “do you need anything to drink?”

he brings his right hand up to hold your face and moves close to your lips, “you know i don’t want a fucking drink.”

“you don’t?" your pout is genuine even though you're teasing him. he knows you're sweet enough to really get him a drink if he desired. he draws his thumb across your slumped lip before you speak again, "well…what do you want, matt?” you move your hands to the waist of his jeans, tracing the outer seam.

he pinches his eyes shut and moves his head to lean on your shoulder, he’s not gonna be the one to say he wants to fuck you. you want to fuck him, that's why he's here. so he’s definitely not begging you to touch him.

“hmm…?” you hum as your hands go to either side of his face, bringing him back to look at you. he looks into your eyes as he drops his hand from your jaw. you notice the pink splotches that still linger on his face, recovering from the heat of the party atmosphere and now the heat of this moment.

matt looks down at your lips, “you know what i want, and you want it too.” his hands travel down and push the front of your mini dress up as he feels over your underwear.

you mouth hangs open and you move your hips against him softly. begging him with your actions rather than your words. and those tend to speak the loudest.

"so what do you want, y/n?" he asks quietly without breaking eye contact.

"matt-" you breathe, wanting him to do anything more than a juvenile rub over your underwear.

he licks and sucks your neck as your hands capture his hair. “where do you want me?” he sounds out of breath when he asks so close to your ear. he finally moves his fingers past the waistband of your panties to nudge your clit as he taunts, “hmm…? you want me right here?”

you whine, “we can’t right here."

"why not?" he breathes against you, annoyed.

"i can't have you fuck me in the foyer i share with my best friend,” you just know andrea would be pissed if either of your body’s fluids made it onto the freshly vacuumed carpet.

he retracts his hand, “then why are we just standing around? show me to your room,” his voice is rough.

“why don’t you try to guess which is my room is mine?” you smile with your faces far too close together.

“why don’t you be a good host and give me a tour?” he retorts.

“that’s not fun,” you push.

he growls and lifts you up, walking past the living room and into a hallway that splits in two (all while you incessantly kiss his jaw and upper neck). he huffs at his ridiculous situation and reaches for the first door he sees. a toilet sits at the end of the room and a cluttered counter to the left.

“bathroom,” you mutter with a giggle.

matt responds with a snipped tone, “mhm yeah i’ve seen one before.”

his grip on your waist grows harsher as he opens and closes a multitude of doors with you commentating over.

he finally makes it to your room with you mocking him in a cheer of celebration as you climb off of him and turn on the dim light near your bedside.

matt would normally take in the room around him but his headspace is far too sexually frustrated to give a shit about how you decorate your room.

he opts to stand near the door and eye you from afar, wanting nothing more than to pounce on you.

you notice this (as well as the fact that matt hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said about minding the mess of clothes piled in the corner from your struggle to pick an outfit earlier) and slowly walk back towards him. the soft yellow light blurs behind you and highlights the edges of your figure in a mouthwateringly pretty way that makes matt antsy.

when you’re close enough matt somehow pulls you closer. his nose nudges against yours messily before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. your hands feel for the end of his shirt and move underneath it to touch his warm lower stomach. you can feel how his body expands and curls as he breathes through your unwavering kiss.

despite wanting to keep the tension high, you break apart from matt to tease a bit, “can i touch you?” his face is scrunched absentmindedly from his desire and his lower lip finds its place tucked behind his front teeth when he rushes a nod to you in encouragement.

you push him away from you softly, “take your jacket off.” you move to your bed and after the sound of a jacket hitting the floor, you find him right on your feet, chasing your kiss and heat.

he leans over you and immediately finds your lips once more. now that he’s on top of you he finds himself wanting to get you to say how bad you want him.

his hands meet your thighs and move your dress as they run up to your rib cage before moving back down to squeeze your thighs.

matt’s surprised when you’re the one to involve your tongue in the mix, making the kiss sloppy yet intimate. your hand then crawls into his hair to keep him close.

but he doesn’t let you hold him for long, taking your hand from his hair and laying it against the bed, raising himself above you. “what do you want sweetheart?” he lowers his other hand towards your stomach, grazing your tattooed hip gently before feeling your underwear.

“you,” you respond in defeat and desperation.

“oh? and you want me to…?”

“matt. touch me,” you take your free hand and guide his own under the waistband of your underwear.

“but i thought you wanted to touch me? now you’re just bein’ selfish.” he keeps his hand close to your pussy, running his index finger across your lips kindly.

you look at him with droopy eyes, “please."

so matt lets you be selfish. he selfishly wants to taste you after all. he lowers himself to your face and captures your bottom lip once more, sucking then biting down slightly before moving his face further down your body slowly. your dress maintains its rippled shape in a bunch right where your tits lie.

he makes his way to your tattooed lower hip, still a little impressed with his execution of the cartoon (as it's not his typical style) and showing this with a kiss, then a light lick (making you shudder the tiniest bit). as he furthers, he finds the space on the bed is not enough, opting for the plush, carpeted floor.

matt sits on the back of his calves to watch how your body reacts when he pulls your panties down, only he misses the satisfied smile curling onto your face when you move your head to the the side.

he shifts your pliable legs to give him a better view of your heat's entirety, spreading your folds gently as he gathers spit in his mouth and spills it onto your clit. his eyes flicker from your face (choking on a moan) to the bead of saliva mixing with your natural slick that has him on edge. “that feel good?” he asks and moves his fingers up and down your pussy slowly, bumping your clit but not lingering long enough.

“yes...so good, matt,” you encourage in a broken whimper.

he hums, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. you moan out lowly and you can't help but close your legs around matt's head. he normally would lay them flat again and tease you but he finds the pressure and dizziness turns him on so much more. his hands rest at your hips, moving up and down and your legs cradle his head as he works his mouth and tongue on you.

"mm fuck," you reach above your head to grip the soft colored comforter in your manicured hands. matt never falters, his licks only become needier when he adds two of his fingers to curl inside of you.

he continues his restless actions until the moment right before you have registered you were about to cum. then, he's immediately removing himself and standing up, wiping his face with one hand as the other hurries to unbuckle his chunky black belt.

you grumble and fix yourself to sit up and look at him, now discarding the belt into his own growing pile of clothes on your floor. he begins to unbutton his pants when he hears you whine and pull at his ego to get him to come back. “how fucking typical. should’ve known i'd barely get one orgasm, let alone two out if this.”

matt immediately stops unzipping his jeans and comes closer to stand above you, his face clearly annoyed. he gives your pussy a light slap, making you whimper. “keep talking shit, brat.” he grits through his teeth and slaps it again making a filthily wet sound that has you moaning.

he doesn't stop at that; he begins to harshly rub your clit back and forth without mercy, keeping eye contact as his face hovers your own, before moving his fingers inside of you while his thumb continues to work your clit. continuous loud moans crowd your room before you eventually meet your high with rolled eyes and shaking legs.

matt quickly pulls his fingers out and wipes them against your thigh leaving it sticky and shiny like golden honey. finally able to unzip and remove his jeans and boxers, allowing his needy cock to be free from the tightness. you move to the edge of your bed when you hear the small clap against his stomach, eager to find matt as ready for you as you are for him.

he watches from above as you admire his length while your fingers ghost over his sensitive dick. you then bring your mouth closer, dribbling spit over his tip and wrapping a fist around him. you look up into his hooded eyes for approval then take him in your mouth and jerk the rest of him with your hand.

he groans and bites his pink and undoubtedly swollen bottom lip as you suck and hollow your cheeks around him, even taking him all the way at some points. and though this feels fucking amazing, he wants nothing more than to be inside of you right now.

he holds the base of your neck then squeezes lightly to get you to pull away, spit erotically traveling with your lips. “can i fuck you now?” his voice is perfectly hushed yet demanding in tone.

you nod and matt wipes your lips, “good, take that dress off.” he removes his own shirt and reaches for a spare condom he’d put in his pocket before leaving the house (for no particular reason). he turns back to you, with your breasts now on display for him, ripping the package with his teeth.

you motion for him to give it to you and he complies. somehow even when you’re literally putting a condom over his dick, you’re a sweetheart about it: kissing it once he’s fully covered and turning yourself over onto all fours without him having to ask. because you understand yourself and have the confidence to choose the position you’d like to be fucked in. and matt would be lying if he said that isn't so fucking attractive.

he smirks as he adjusts himself on the bed, feeling out every inch of your full ass before moving his hands to squeeze your waist. you lay your head against the plush comforter, arching yourself further in anticipation. “matt,” you blubber out a whine.

he takes the base of his cock and guides it through your folds, “mhm…i know.” he sees your face twist in amusement, “oh, you like that, huh?”

you lick your lips and nod your head before matt finally pushes himself fully inside of you. his hips start in slow, rhythmic patterns before becoming uncontrolled and incomplete- and the same goes for your moans.

matt's almost hypnotized by the way your ass moves in reaction to his thrusts (slowing himself down just to watch in detail and only speeding up when you start to get really antsy over it).

as you both get sloppier and chase your highs, matt decides to flip you over and tuck your legs into your chest for a different angle. there's something especially needy in the way he rubs at your clit and makes a mess of your tits with his mouth that drives you insane with pleasure.

"my- shit!" you moan harshly under matt.

"hold it," he huffs.

"can't," you whimper, "just-"

"shhh," matt captures your lips as he quickens his pace, feeling his own climax approaching. after a few moments you're breaking the kiss to roll your head away, exposing your neck as you uncontrollably cum around matt.

"fuck," he moans, stilling his movements to maximize his release.

he takes a moment to breathe before removing himself from you, immediately fucking his fingers into you while rubbing your weak clit (just to be annoying) until you push him away and tell him to fuck off.

he lets out a chuckle as he removes the condom and discards it appropriately. when he comes back over to you you're on your side with your own arm wrapped around your waist in comfort.

matt sits next to you, "that good for you?"

you just nod and bite back a smile.

matt hums in pride, running a hand over your exposed ass before leaning down to kiss and suck a dark hickey into the skin.

"c'mere," you tug his hand.

he complies and you turn to open your legs for him once more, grinding a bit once the two of you begin to kiss again.

you reach between the two of you, taking matt's half-hard dick in your hand and stroking. as you pick up your pace he whines and begins to thrust into your hand in need.

until you hear your front door open. to which you push matt off of you and on to the floor, hearing him groan as you snap at him to get in your closet.

you crawl under your comforter while matt hurries to gather his things from your floor and get into your closet.

you hear andrea stumble a little making her way through the house and you catch your breath just as she knocks on your door and cracks it to check if you're sleeping.

"y/n, you awake?" she slurs a whisper.

"yes. hi drea, how'd you get home?"

she opens the door a little further but continues to lean on the door frame, "how did you get home? was lookin' all over like 'where's my girl?' everyone was usless though," she sighs.

"sorry, i took an uber," you giggle, "i got sleepy, i guess."

"mhm...you and me both." she yawns expectedly.

"you should get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, okay?" you smile from your bed.

andrea nods, "'kay, love you." she leaves with a sleepy smile.

"love you," you reply as she shuts the door again.

you let out a relieved breath, glad she hadn't suggested a sleepover like you'd both normally do when drunk.

matt walks out of your closet, almost fully clothed, buckling his belt again, "gave me fucking rug burn, thanks."

you move a hand over your face, "sorry- i just don't need anyone seeing you here."

"'s fine," he shrugs and takes a seat on your bed, "how long is it gonna take her to sleep so i can leave?"

"less than five minutes," you pick at one of your acrylic nails, seeing matt place his jacket on your bed makes you almost laugh to yourself, "shit, i left my jacket at erin's."

matt grins to himself and adds, "shit, i left my car at erin's," with a shake of his head.

you both laugh softly before it fizzles.

matt's back is towards you as he opens his phone to order another uber home. and now the silence brings you back into reality and suddenly you're feeling sick to your stomach about erin.

it takes you a little but you eventually mumble towards his back, "matt you didn’t fuck erin, right?"

"no," his voice sounds distracted and like he wouldn't care even if he did.

you focus on a loose thread in your comforter that you pick at, "...kay. not that it matters 'cause this was only for tonight. but i know i would probably die from guilt knowing i fucked with you after she did."

he turns to see you genuinely out of it and seeming to shelter yourself under your blanket. he leans towards you and rubs your arm softly before whispering, "don't make it a big fucking deal, nothing's different." his stare actually makes you feel far worse but you nod as if you agree anyway.

he stands up and puts his jacket on, “you sleep well okay, sunny?”

"shut the fuck up, you don't care about how i sleep," you whisper.

he breathes a laugh and reaches for your door.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x black!reader

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girlbloggersfolly · 5 months ago

Text

DELTA DAWN - part 1 // Camp Woodrow

Pairing: camp counsellour!joel miller x camp lifeguard!afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (not yet but it will be) 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: (1979 summer camp AU) After making a spontaneous trip northwest to a summer camp in need of staff with a few new friends, you find not everyone is so welcoming.

Chapter warnings: age gap (20 + 49), a whole lot of me waffling, extreme slow burn enemies to lovers ect ect ect, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, complicated relationship (not joel and reader.. yet), perv!reader, f!masturbation. absolutely NO use of y/n, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail, and she can swim duh. This chapter is very tame, basically, just setting it up.

a/n: ok wow this is exciting, first chapter done and i'm pretty happy with it. Just a warning, i really mean it when I say slow burn, there will be no fluffing around at alllllll for a couple chapters, i'm not sure where i'm taking this or how long it will be, i'm thinking maybe 4? anyway enough chatter there'll be enough of that in the fic, if your reading this i love you sooooo much!!!!!!!

Camp Woodrow 1979

The Knack blasted from Sharon’s stereo, smoke plumed from Billies Joint, you’d been driving for a night or so. Mid-morning sun streamed through the windows, it was a brackish heat you had been getting all too used to. You’d met Billy, Sharon and Abel in Salt lake city at a gig, and now you were pleasantly stuck with them for the rest of summer. The drive from Salt lake city to Oregon was long, even longer in Sharon’s dads Buick which hadn’t seen the inside of a mechanic’s since 71’. The three of them had been working at Camp Woodrow each summer since they were, what was it? 15? Somehow they’d managed to persuade you to pack up your whole new life of groupie love and tour buses into a beat up Buick, taking the scenic route up to Oregon for a long, stagnant summer of campfires and controlled water sports, organised fun. You’d made the mistake of mentioning to Sharon you had lifeguard training; there and then it’d been decided you’d be the perfect replacement for their good friend Woody, who usually took the role of Lifeguard in camp, he was off in L.A, having made a name for himself in adult film. It was a long story you’d heard each salacious detail of.

It’d been a total coincidence, meeting the three of them. You’d let some girlfriends drag you to a gig in a shifty basement venue (Billies band’s place (who weren’t nearly the legendary group they thought they were)) and had been… charmed by Billy… You’d fucked, he was just okay at it but he was easy on the eyes, knew a good dealer and it was cool to tell people you were fucking a hotshot ‘rock star’, even if he was less than generous in the bedroom. Soon you were fast friends with the whole group of them, groupies and all. So here you were, head in Billies lap, high off the broken sun on your face and second hand smoke, his hand drumming along to Doug Fieger’s voice on your bare stomach. You’d hitched a ride in Sharon’s dad’s car with her, Billy and her ‘it's complicated’ Abel.

“Are we there yet?”

Billy coughed through a cloud of smoke, yellow tinted sunglasses making him look all the pretentious rocker he wished he was.

“Can you open a fucking window, do you know how hard it is to get that smell out these seats?”

Sharon said through agonising chomps of that wad of gum she’d had in her mouth since they’d driven through Boise. Billy cranked open the window. The hideous thrum of wind on the highway beating through the static air of the car. Your hair whipped around furiously and you sat up, stirred from the holy-half-high state.

“Happy?” Billy said over the obnoxious sound of the engine and the wind. Sharon scoffed loudly over the sound. “I asked when are we going to fucking be there.” He spluttered yet again over his joint, smirking at you while he complained like a child to a very frustrated Sharon. “It’s just down the next turn,” He said, looking at the map in Abel’s lap, he was more focused on the magazine in his hands, you peaked over his shoulder, a sexy nun, the big, hot pink letters ‘TEASE’ haloing the cover.

“We’re lost,” Billy hit his head back against the window, gosh he could really be a baby sometimes, you remarked internally, increasingly tired of the whole ‘Billy’ thing, a sticky situation you’d gotten into. The car broke into complaints, Sharon, searching frantically for the inconspicuous turning and little wooden sign to Camp Woodrow, stationed at the mouth of lake Calgonie. They’d eagerly shown you their collection of polaroids from the camp in the first few hours of the drive. It was exactly as you’d imagined, a classic all-American summer camp, straight from a gnarly slasher flick.

“Motherfucker!” Sharon retaliated triumphantly as she manoeuvred the cranky old Buick down the sharp dirt road turning Camp Woodrow 500 yards. Bullseye. The road was almost too narrow, lined with unruly trees, leading up to the clearing in the dense foliage. Billy threw his joint out the window, stretching so his shirt rode up, showing off that lean torso that he was so damn proud of, flashing you a movie star grin. You tucked your hair behind your ears, putting your chuck taylor’s back on after the drive. You knew you all stunk of weed and BO.

The car came to a pained, screeching halt in a makeshift parking lot. There were two cars parked in the other ‘spaces’, you noticed a blue Ford F-100 pick up, covered in mud and dust, your dad had one of those. Sharon let out a suggestive moan as she stretched, slamming the door behind her so hard you thought it might fall off. You all followed after her, Billy’s arm over your shoulder proudly, as if he was the one who’d just driven for 10 hours instead of whining the entire drive. You told yourself to just get over it, the summer was too long and too hot to hold onto this strange resentment you’d been harbouring for him as of late.

“Hey Abel! Sharon!” You heard from behind you, spotting a man you hadn’t seen before. He was shorter and well built, had a groomed moustache and lustrous black curls. “Tommy!” Sharon squealed, The pair embraced. You took the chance to get acquainted with your surroundings, turning away from the reunion to the woods behind you. Beautiful, it really was. You were a city kid, a suburban mole, so any chance at kindling some kind of a relationship with nature had you jumping at the opportunity, even if it meant dealing with children - Billy included. Trees as far as you could see, as high as you could see, the air clearer than you’d known it in the weeks you’d spent with these stoners.

“You remember Billy,” Abel said to Tommy, motioning to the boy next to you, who waved in his wanton fashion; too cool to put any effort into something as taxing as a wave. “Of course,” Tommy put his hands on his hips, it was hard to forget Billy. “And who’s the lady?” Tommy grinned, sauntering over, offering his hand to shake. Before you could introduce yourself, Sharon did it for you, telling him your name, which he repeated to himself. “She’s Woody’s replacement… lifeguard.” Sharon added, showing you off like an action figure. You fiddled with the hem of your denim shorts absentmindedly. “Ahh, lifeguard,” He had a firm handshake, making polite eye contact, you knew you’d get along with him. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m super excited to get started.” You said warmly, the words falling from your mouth in something like a croak, you realised you’d hardly spoken for the entire drive, absorbed in tireless thought. Tommy clapped his hands together and turned to Abel and Sharon, then back to you and Billy.

“Well the kids are coming tomorrow, so, should give y’all time to settle,” He gave a little talk, friendly, he was what a camp manager should be, what you expected him to be. It immediately settled you, but the dead weight of Billy’s arm on your shoulders, tying you to him, was a constant jarring reminder of the mess you’d got yourself into with him.

The path to the camp staff cabins was a pretty one, scenic, you listened to your own steady breaths merging with the sounds of the forests. Billy walked ahead of you, his own suitcase swinging as him and Abel laughed their way into their own cabin. Separated by gender, convenient for yourself. Sharon lit a cigarette and grabbed the bottom bunk. You guessed it was so she could sneak Abel in and fuck him a little less conspicuously.

You sat on the top bunk, staring up at the damp ceiling, smoking a cigarette and listening to Sharon tuning a little radio, she cursed over the static.

In the evening you and Sharon decided to take a walk, leaving the boys to turn their cabin into a gas chamber, the forest stunk of them. “C’mon Lifeguard,” Sharon taunted, grinning at you through her cherry chapstick-ed lips. You took it all in, the forest, which opened up to Lake Calgonie.

“Holy shit,” You breathed as you stepped out onto the dock, the sun was setting over the trees, casting a vibrant orange hue over the lake. Your trance was broken by the click of Sharon’s Polaroid camera, the whir of the picture being processed. “It’s something, huh?” She nodded, somewhat proud of the landscape. “This is-” You started, unsure of the right word for how you felt, a little stoned from earlier, weary from the drive, muscles aching, brain heaving from the whole Billy thing, in complete awe of the situation you were in, impossibly, fucking happy. “Is it deep?” You turned to her, realising she was taking a picture of you. Click, Whirrrrr.

She fanned the two polaroids for a bit, tucking them in her bra, a trick she’d giggled about a few weeks ago. “Yeah, gets pretty deep in the middle,” She shrugged, more absorbed in the development of the polaroids she’d taken of you. She noticed the curious, awe-struck look on your face.

By the time you and Sharon returned to the camp the fire was blazing, crackling pleasantly, Billy, Abel, Tommy and an older lady. “Now, I know it wasn’t you two dumbasses who got the fire started,” Sharon landed the playful jab as she planted herself on Abel's lap, announcing her arrival the way she always did, her laugh echoing through the forest. Billy shuffled up to make space for you on the log, his arm around you in seconds, you were sure that that fucking arm would break your damn shoulder soon from how much he rested there.

“Hey where’s Joel?” Billy asked suddenly. You were only half listening, now the fully developed polaroids were being flashed at you; it was you looking over your shoulder in candid surprise, engulfed in the flashlight and the rich sunset from behind, like a deer in the headlights. “Well what’s he doing in his cabin?” Billy said loudly with a cocky chuckle.

You tuned him out, letting your brain run away with itself, watching as the older woman examined the polaroid that Sharon was passing around for admiration. “Beautiful ain’t she,” Sharon quipped, shooting you a playful wink as she peered over the older woman’s shoulder at your picture. Tommy poked at the fire, blowing at it expertly, so this was the country man. “Oh, this is Lou by the way,” Tommy nodded towards the bright eyed older woman, “She’s one of our senior camp leaders, and our chef,” He said with a tight smile towards you, clearly the introduction was pointed. It was dark now, the faces of your friends and acquaintances lit up by firelight, illuminated in the orange.

“Hey I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You whispered to Billy, waiting for him to direct you. “It's between the weird tree, with all the branches, remember? and the bigger Cabins, showers there too.”

It was the first time you’d been alone for a couple days. As much as you were charmed by your fast friends, a long lonesome walk to the john was very much needed. Abel’s lighter, you'd borrowed one night from his coat pocket, clicked to life in your hand, the small flame lapping at the cherry end of your cigarette as it hung between your lips. You walked slowly to prolong your time alone, admiring the trees, listening to the forest by night and the gentle padding of your sneakers across the dirt.

After relieving yourself in the makeshift hut you wondered if you could even call a ‘bathroom’, you wandered as slowly as possible down the path, blowing plumes of smoke into the still night, feeling the trees sigh around you. You imagined what your parents were doing right now, sitting in their condo in Cedar city, probably off to bed. You rarely thought of them anymore.

You were brought to a standstill by one of the larger cabins, you took a drag of your cigarette and stood watching the window. You suddenly felt like a complete peeping tom; a man appeared in the window, not a man, a wife-beater clad god. He paced up to the edge of the room, giving you time to properly take him in; a quality of moustache you’d only seen in porn flicks, a soft, yet muscular torso, paired with arms that looked like they could snap Billy in two. You let the cover of nightfall mask the growing warmth on your cheeks. He stretched, wife beater riding up to reveal the unruly outline of a happy trail. Jesus christ. He was older, that was obvious enough, late forties? early fifties? You tucked your lips into a thin line, gazing at him, feeling like one of the fucking creeps you so often complained about and really not caring.

“Who is that guy?” You mused to Sharon back in the cabin, as she went through her skincare regiment in the janky little mirror, your limbs draped down from the top bunk like a fancy throw rug. “What guy?” She said, the tube of moisturiser taking up her full attention. “I ran into this guy when I went to pee? Moustache, in his forties, maybe fifties?.” You were like a teenager again, batting your eyelashes up at the ceiling. “Joel?” She cooed, turning to face you abruptly, clearly she had the same idea, you’d pulled her attention now. “You met Joel?” She seemed very impressed by this, but met was a strong word, you’d watched him in his cabin for a minute or so. You suddenly felt like this was something you shouldn’t have done, for whatever reason, maybe it was that sultry look in her eye all of a sudden, the accusatory tone in her pouty mouth. “Mhmm” You hummed warily, sitting up to look down at her from the top bunk. She scoffed, massaging her skin “Joel’s Tommy’s big brother, he runs the camp with him, total hunk right?” She teased. It made sense, Joel had looked like his brother, taller you thought, a little rougher around the edges. “How come he wasn’t at the fire?” You pictured him in his cabin, all alone. You now remembered Billy asking for him earlier. “He’s not the biggest fan of um, Billy and Abel, caught them sneaking in these girls, y’know, getting high a couple years ago, but they were like 17, like he’s had it out for them for a while.” This story didn’t come as a surprise, you imagined a young Billy and Abel getting caught smoking pot with girls by the lake. “It’s really only thanks to Tommy that we were allowed back, Joel would’ve gotten rid of them a while ago, wouldn’t’ve been outta line to either,” Sharon rambled on, all you could think about were those broad shoulders, the curve of his aquiline nose, it was a perverted stereotype you didn’t mind filling, young girl absolutely taken by an older man she most definitely could not have. “It’s a shame, he’s so fucking hot,” Sharon said as she pursed her lips, applying a healthy amount of lip balm to her pout.

Camp LIFEGUARD t-shirt on, little red running shorts that covered next to nothing, chuck taylors to match, another pair of Billies big brown sunglasses on your nose, you were every bit the summer camp lifeguard. Tommy had your lifeguard certificate and paperwork, breakfast had been a breeze, it was all ready. The kids were arriving in the afternoon, so you had the morning to scope the place out alone, leaving Sharon with the guys and taking the path to the lake.

The lake was invigorating as you dipped your toe through the strangely still surface, chuck taylor’s, socks, shirt, glasses and the little metal whistle all bundled into a polite little pile on the edge of the dock. You sat down, taking a deep breath and splashing your feet gently in the water, the tiny ripples lapping back at your calves. It truly did feel like a movie to you, clad in that red, lifeguard swimsuit, hopefully catching some sun.

The morning was pleasant, if a little humid. As warm as it gets in the pacific northwest, you basked in the quiet of the lake, sliding slowly into the water. It was eerily calm after the recent chaos that had become your beloved life.

You hadn’t swam leisurely in a while, not in a lake for even longer. You avoided the silty bottom by pushing off immediately to the middle, planning to test just how deep this lake was. It was strangely clear, you could see the bottom for a while, but as you swam out, below you it was just your flailing limbs treading in the dark blue. The hum of a boat engine broke the trance you’d been under all morning, snapping into consciousness as a small speedboat made its way around the lake, right up close to where you were treading water. You hadn’t seen it from the dock, hadn't noticed any waves.

It came to a quick halt, splashing water in your face. “Motherfucker” You spluttered as you spat out lake water. You wiped your eyes and shielded them from the sun to see who this obnoxious, nautical asshole was. He looked down at you, crouching, silhouetted by the sun.

“You shouldn’t be swimming without a lifeguard.” As your eyes adjusted to the bright light you identified the asshole: Joel, your blood ran colder than it already was. You could see him better now, dark glasses on, those sun kissed forearms, his slightly sun bleached STAFF t-shirt, that low, southern voice still unbearably charming, pouring over you like molasses even when he was being cold.

You realised you were staring and looked to your left at the dock. “Sorry, sir,” You started, hoping he’d appreciate the formality, “I am the lifeguard,” You grinned up at him with a saccharine bat of your eyelashes, really trying to appeal to the sexiest man you’d ever seen. He was still staring down at you in the water, sunglasses giving away nothing.

He let out a short scoff, obviously not amused. “Well what happens when you drown?” He said coldly, he did not seem at all charmed by that killer grin you flaunted so well, so you let it drop ever so slightly. Maybe you couldn’t kill him with kindness? “No lifeguard out to save your ass,” He looked down at you pointedly, still crouched beside you like you would’ve done with a kid that dived in a no dive pool.

“I’m a strong swimmer.” You cocked your head, he scoffed again, shaking his head in casual disbelief. You were too absorbed in working out whether he looked more like Burt Reynolds or Tom Selleck. “I don't care how strong’a swimmer you are, missy,” He retaliated quickly, your lips parted in slight surprise, you weren’t used to people being even slightly unpleasant to you, thanks to your people pleasing.

“I'm sorry?” You said in the wake of your surprise.

“Look, lifeguard, I’m gonna ask you to strongly swim back to the dock right about fuckin’ now,” He stood up to his full height chuckling at you in that southern baritone, again darkened to a silhouette by the sun. You remembered how good his muscular body looked in that wife beater, his goddamn broad shoulders, then pushed the thoughts from your brain, it was fucking embarrassing, you batting your eyelashes and grinning at him like he wasn’t reprimanding you.

After hastily making your way back to camp, a complete state, your cheeks annoyingly hot with embarrassment and a sinking feeling that you could only call ‘horny’, you caught up with the rest of the guys. They’d somehow got the radio set up and were sitting around it outside the boy’s cabin like moths to a light, Buffalo Springfield was playing softly, the sound slightly subdued, broken by static every so often.

You leant on the wall beside them, trying to collect yourself after whatever the fuck that was. “How's the water temp, sugar,” Billy landed a light slap on your ass. You couldn't even look at them, afraid to see your own flushed reflection in their tinted sunglasses. “Tepid.” You heard yourself say absentmindedly. You knew two things for sure, Joel was an enigmatic pain in your ass; another to add to the ever growing list. The other, he had you wrapped around his little finger, you hated yourself for it, but hated him more. “I need a dart,” You sighed, keeping your eyes on your feet as Billy lit your cigarette.

The kids arrived intermittently once Abels casio read 15:00, hoards of them, and quickly. Bumbling groups of girls and boys, completely feral. You silently thanked god that all you'd be doing was watching them, making sure none of their little heads stayed underwater for too long, leaving the morale-boosting, camp spirit stuff to your friends and the other staff. Luckily no water sports on the first day, so you were free to lounge around without worrying about some kid dying on your watch.

You sort of wished you had a way to get your mind off the whole Joel thing, it really shouldn't have gotten to you as much as it had. But there was something about the whole thing, something simply despotic about the way he looked down at you, ordering you about, it fucking jarred you all afternoon, distracting you even from Billy’s hand on your ass.

The next time you saw Joel that day he was with a few kids, a couple suitcases tossed over his shoulders, a big grin on his face as he spoke to them, it wasn't mocking, wasn't charged with some quick-witted comment that he’d make sure really stung, it was paternal, sweet. You don’t know why you thought he’d be cold to everyone.

Damn kids didn't know how good they had it as he made them laugh, beaming with child-like enthusiasm. “Who’s that?” You asked Billy quickly, as if you didn't know full well who that was, as if he hadn't been the only thing on your frazzled, embarrassed mind. Billy scoffed, watching Joel just as intently as you had been. “That’s Joel Miller,” he said that name with more passion than you’d ever heard him put into anything, “Him and I don’t get along so well, sweets,” He nodded, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at these pet names he’d been experimenting with. You tuned out the rest of Billy’s moaning, regretting even asking him, the phrases ‘Grade A asshole’ and ‘hypocrite’ were tossed around quite senselessly.

You needed a shower, everyone did but you weren't going to be the one to tell them that. With a crispy towel in hand and Sharon's flip flops you haphazardly made your way through the dark forest, the kids all in their cabins, staff eating round the campfire. Sharon said she'd meet you there in 20, at least one other person in this damn place knew when they needed a shower. The shower shack was something you’d have to get used to. Even in the abysmal water pressure, even with the ceiling completely caked in cobwebs occupied by creatures you really did not like the look of, the hot water was balm. It washed the smell of the lake off of you, and the dizzying BO you’d gotten used to in the last few days, cleaned off that lingering scent of pot from your skin.

You sang quietly to yourself, an Elvis song that'd been stuck in your head all week. “Your kisses lift me higher,” you scrubbed yourself with the ratty bar of soap you’d found in Sharon's wash bag, the song falling out of you at an increasingly enthusiastic pace, volume rising as you let the water infiltrate your scalp.

“I just might turn into smoke but i feel fine,” Billy was not an Elvis fan, never had been, but that didn't stop you from humming along every time he entered your brain. You heard another shower start and Sharon getting in, not for one second stopping the music falling out of you. You weren't a particularly gifted singer, but in the shower that never mattered. After singing the song countless times you turned off the water. “Just a hunk’a burnin love,” You hummed, the cool night air causing your skin to goose pimple, your nipples to harden as you wrapped your body in the itchy little towel that really didn't do much to cover you up.

You lit a cigarette as you stepped out, deciding to wait for Sharon outside the showers as she’d instructed earlier, admiring your reflection in the clouded mirror, wiping them clear. “Hurry up, fuckin’ cow,” You chuckled, raising your voice over the sound of the shower that was still going. Like a spell, it stopped, for once she was feeling nice.

"‘Bout time,” You giggled as you combed through your hair with your fingers, cigarette hanging precariously from your lips. You didn’t look away from your reflection as you grabbed your toothbrush from the pocket of your shorts which lay in a little discarded pile beside the sinks. “It's like being at The Westgate, Las Vegas,” The familiar voice chuckled, that condescending comment about your spectacular rendition of Elvis’ ‘burning love’ going right over your head in favour of utter shock and realisation, which hit like a ten ton truck.

You practically spun on your heels to see a smirking Joel Miller shirtless, a towel slung carelessly around his hips. The wind was knocked out of you as you let your eyes linger on his torso, just how fucking built he was, beaded with water, his chest sprinkled with hair matching that on his face. Holy shit.

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, hugging the towel tighter to your body, scooping up the toothpaste you’d jetted all over the sink from squeezing the tube in your state of shock. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. “Thought you were Sharon,” You said shakily to the sink as you washed the toothpaste from your fingers, your voice now lacking the confidence it’d possessed when you called Joel Miller a ‘fucking cow’. You felt like slamming your head through the mirror right about now, not daring to check if the heat that had spread across your cheeks was visible. “Thought you were Elvis,” He quipped, ever the witty bastard, pulling out a small razor and some shaving foam, clearly he was planning on staying.

You took a drag of your cigarette to pull yourself back to earth. “You make a habit of sneaking up on girls in the shower?” You heard yourself say, like your mind hadn’t turned into that of a perverted teenage boy after you saw him last night.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” So he knew he was hot shit, standing there more naked than you were comfortable with in that moment, that towel doing very little to distract you from the fact he was right there, all of him, rubbing shaving foam on his jaw. “You're too old to be talking like that,” you said coldly through your dead-pan, the biting words lacking the fire you intended for them. He chuckled slightly, his low voice almost a growl, reverberating through you as you attempted to squeeze your toothpaste onto the toothbrush without making another mess. “Definitely Billy’s girl,” He said to himself as he held his razor up to the light.

Now that was too far, you turned your face to him, lips parted into a half-hearted scowl as you watched a couple droplets fall from his hair, you held on to the little towel for dear life. “What's that supposed to mean,” You shook your head in disbelief, that had truly been a low blow. “Well you are ain’ch’ya?” He shrugged, bringing the razor to his cheek, you said a silent prayer to god that his hand would slip. “No,” You said after a moment's hesitation. Billy wasn’t your guy and you certainly weren't his girl, he was a friend you sometimes, reluctantly let hump you until he finished. “He know that?” Joel scoffed, suddenly very talkative, you hadn't expected that from the authoritarian asshole who’d scolded you this morning, now a scintillating asshole. “Seemed awful comfy this even-” You cut him off quickly. “It's none of your business Joel,” you snapped, turning back to look at your glassy reflection.

This man would be the death of you; all of this, and now another mouth to ask you about Billy. “Billy’s a prick,” Joel said casually as he shaved his face, it almost startled you, the first thing you agreed with him about. “Aren't you perceptive?” The sarcasm rolled out of you, prompting another of those short, patronising chuckles from Joel.

“What's the appeal then?” It was a good point, why did you hang around with Billy when you could admit that the kid was a complete dickwad. Was it those looks? the way people seemed to gravitate towards his obnoxious laughter? It was all embarrassingly shallow.

“We hang in the same circles,” You shrugged, now completely absorbed by watching Joel shaving so expertly, still hoping your prayer would be answered. “Is he a good fuck?” Joel asked brazenly, not looking away from his own cold expression in the mirror as he cleaned up his moustache, your breath caught in your throat and you stamped out your cigarette on your ratty sneakers to disguise your prudish shock.

The answer was no, a dead no, no matter how much he thought he was. “And there's another thing that's absolutely none of your business,” You began brushing your teeth, glancing at him to see the telling smirk on his lips, that was all he needed to know.

After a much needed break in the conversation you spat out the toothpaste, holding your hair back and running the tap. You turned to leave with the pile of clothes in your arms, you’d rather’ve taken the short journey to your cabin in the little towel than spend another damn second in that room with Joel fucking Miller. “Hey, kiddo,” Joel interjected casually, you turned to look at him with an obedience that made you sick.

“Next time you find yourself peepin’ on me in my cabin, just knock on the door.”

You huffed an exasperated, short breath as you slammed the door to the cabin behind you, happy that Sharon was nowhere to be seen. You changed, cursing Joel under your breath over and over and over again as you pulled one of Billy’s ‘Supertramp’ t-shirts over your wet head of hair. That motherfucker! Where could you even start?

He’d seen you watching him. He’d known all day that you stood in the treeline in the unassuming disguise of nightfall, smoking as you’d watched him get ready for bed. He’d called you ‘kiddo’?! you groaned as you curled yourself into the quilt on your top bunk.

You guessed that Sharon was banging Abel in the next cabin, Billy had probably passed out from a long day of doing absolutely nothing. No matter what you thought about to get your mind off Joel; the image of him shirtless and dripping wet, his quick retaliations, nothing helped. You counted sheep, sang ‘Burning love’ a couple more times through, the shame just didn't wear off. He’d gotten the better of you today, catching you out at all the right moments, embarrassing you over and over again.

Finally, after stalling what you knew would be your only relief after a day like this, you let your hand venture under your panties, touching yourself gently at first, ego too bruised to allow yourself what you really wanted. Soon you were practically crying his name into your pillow, back arching desperately. You’d broken into a slight sweat, lips parting quiet ecstasy as relief washed over you.

You made the decision then and there, it was sink or swim, you weren't going to let today happen again, not let your epic, man-eating reputation be stamped into the dirt by some old washed-up cowboy with an ego for days and some strange Tom-Selleck-esque power over you.

You were going to become Joel Miller's worst fucking nightmare.

PART 2

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller tlou #enemies to lovers #dark!joel #1970s #vintage fanfic #first fic #joel x reader #tommy miller #pedro pascal x reader #reblog maybe #no use of y/n #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller x you

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formulatrash · 3 months ago

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What Hot Hatch* Should Every F1 Driver Have? Pt 1

*some of these cars are not technically hot hatches but they are, spiritually, hot hatches to ME and also car genres are meaningless shut up

Unfortunately because I have problems I allowed the group chat to commission me into writing this. I think you will be able to see the point where I really unleashed the thoughts that probably ought to be kept inside. Maybe I will keep Pt 2 to myself.

Max Verstappen - Honda Civic Type R This was tricky because we know the grid's resident cat dad is actually an SUV girly off the track. But he's also a brand loyalist and I'm fairly sure literally has had one of these as his factory car so it checks out that a car notorious for having a better engine than it did chassis would fit the Red Bull post-Newey meltdown. And if you need to go round a bunch of roundabouts there's really almost nothing rivalled to a Civic Type R.

Lewis Hamilton - og Nissan Leaf Yes, Lewis has never had any association to the Renault-Nissan alliance in his life but whatever he's leaving Mercedes. Think he's sort of forgotten about this but he did commit to only driving electric road cars awhile back and I will defend the Nissan Leaf with my LIFE as one of the most fun cars to drive. Nearly said the NISMO Leaf but actually the time I had a go in one of them it was insanely overbearing in a way someone used to having Bono to whine to wouldn't appreciate. The stripped down, basic, original is more than enough to fuck about in a multistory car park and I'm confident Lewis would immediately know what to do with it when next to a BMW at traffic lights.

George Russell - Williams Renault Clio This was actually what started it because I was introducing my beautiful wife to the groupchat and then considering which driver should throw some pocket money at it. Leaving aside the fact that if I was that rich there'd be a lockup in Monte Carlo full of the shittest mid-90s three-doors you've ever seen in your life, this car is perfect for George. It's got a legitimate heritage connection and it's a proper piece, something to look after. There's even matching sweaters for him and Carmen to wear in a sponsored post. And when he gets that look in his eye and starts clenching his jaw too much it's extremely good for doing donuts outside Carrefour.

Sergio Perez - Toyota GR Yaris No, I know he drives for a Honda works team but if they haven't fired him yet they'll probably overlook this. The GR Yaris is a bit of a North American legend because you can legally only get it in Mexico - they're not obtainable in the US. So this is an understated big dick move and maybe what Checo needs is to have a little obnoxious fun, y'know?

Charles Leclerc - Sbarro Super Eight Oh, Charles. Tied up in scarlet. In order to maintain his Maranello-chained brand suffering nothing but Ferrari's finest horsies could do but they're not really in the business of making mean little things to hoon. Unless you consider the driver academy, I guess. Anyway - the Sbarro Super Eight is a Ferrari 308 V8 engine in the body of the kind of vehicle you can get insured on under the age of 25. It has too much (260) horsepower, it's a little silly and deeply selfconscious. And like il predestinato there is only one in the whole world.

Carlos Sainz Jnr - VW Golf This isn't even a statement about what car he should have, this is a car he does have. Mr Sainz and I may disagree about many things but his opinion that the VW Golf is the ultimate road vehicle is absolutely correct. Anyone who's seen the excruciating DTS segment where he tries to take a McLaren to M&S for a disappointing taco mix purchase will understand why Carlos held on to his Golf, a much better vehicle for picking up some bits. In the words of the man himself: "No Golf, no party"

Lando Norris - Lancia Delta Integrale Mk 2 "la Perla" Anyone with my Instagram recommendations will know in quite some alarming detail which Monegasque petrol station Lando uses to fill up his collection of sports cars. Weird fan paparazzi behaviour aside, the man likes buying unique cars and clearly isn't above something quirky given the Fiat Jolly. The Delta Integrale "la Perla" 1) sounds a bit like a sex toy in a way I think he'd find amusing, 2) is rare, with a totally impractical pearlescent white paint job for something ostensibly intended to hoon. It's expensive, semi-unique (allegedly only a few hundred were made) and a little bit silly, with plenty of rally-proven power and drive to muck about with.

Oscar Piastri - Honda City Turbo Oscar seems like the kind of guy who doesn't care too much about appearances. Not in the sense he looks bad - he very clearly does not - but like, lot of rumpled shirts in his wardrobe he's not bothered about ironing, y'know. So it fits that he'd need a hot hatch that does the job more than it's about aesthetic. The things I know about Oscar are that he likes to spend time with his girlfriend and he learned Japanese at school so I'm diagnosing him with JDM import disease and making sure there's a passenger seat. The Honda City Turbo is a teeny weeny little car that only makes its way into being a hot hatch not a kei car because of the totally unnecessary powertrain. And what a fucking powertrain, straight from the Mugen division into the least likely chassis imaginable. Yes, the car is not the most ostentatious looking thing but it's technically interesting and sick as hell so whatever.

Zhou Guanyu - Renault Twingo 133 Silverstone edition Zhou is a man of immense taste and style. He has a great little cat. He is a national icon in his home country and, frankly, any other. He has spent a lot of his life in Sheffield. Aside from this making him basically an idealised form of bloke, I think this means I can entrust him with the Twingo. Not, it's got to be said, overpowered as a car in its base model (my Mk1 Twingo could boast a 0-62 measured in minutes) Renault have never been able to resist souping it up a bit and for some unlikely series of reasons made a sport version to tie into the 2011 British Grand Prix. I don't even want to know why, now, it's better that it stays a mystery. Anyway, this is a Twingo with unnecessary horsepower and live data feeds the Mk1 would probably have a misfire even considering. It's quirky, comes with plenty of backstory and y'know. Whomst amongst us hasn't been screwed around with by Renault a bit in the past?

Valtteri Bottas - the Suzuki Jimny The Jimny is a car of greats. Deceptively small, it works perfectly in a city or if you need to drive up a mountain to get to a gravel course. loads of room at the back for a bike rack. It's practical, a little odd-looking in a charming way and everyone's delighted every time they see one. You can definitely get your ass out in this vehicle. Is it a hot hatch? Probably not but you don't get to define how the Jimny lives its life.

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paingoes · 6 months ago

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Destroyer - Like An Arrow

(Masterlist)

a finale of sorts

(Content: dehumanization, parental death mention, alcohol mention, drug use, impalement)

=======================

Paris let out a low whistle as the atmosphere faded from the blackness of space to light gold. The morning sky of Thales was coming into view. He’d hung out by the helm to view the entry. One of the helmsmen gave him an amused look.

“Glad to be home?” He asked.

“There’s nothing like it in the world,” Paris said, which did not answer the question. He stood up, getting closer to the window. The palace was visible on the horizon.

Delta was already up. Even when nobody wanted him, his body had adjusted to waking at inhuman hours. He rested on the bed, tapping his hands idly as he waited. He tried to focus on the pulp cover he was supposed to be reading, but a mild claustrophobia was coming over him as they got closer to the castle. It was hard to think about anything else.

There was a crowd as the ship lowered. Thales was loyal to Paris. He’d always have a home field advantage there, despite the fact he hadn’t visited in months. And because there was a crowd, it had to be a performance. Delta sat patiently as Sierra did him up. The theme was not danger this time. When he looked in the mirror, most of his skin had been blotted out as if with soft light. The cloth he wore was white and flowing. It was practically church garb. The gold collar stood out nicely against it.

Paris was wearing his father’s coat. It had to be tailored to fit him properly, but it was unmistakable. His short hair hung loosely and undecorated. The saber hung on his hip, outfitted with a jewel-studded sheath.

Sierra tried to attach the chain to Delta’s collar, but Paris waved her off. She raised an eyebrow.

“I need my hands free,” He explained.

They had a heavier security detail than usual as they worked through the swarm of people. Paris walked on ahead, greeted them all warmly. It wasn’t hard for him to work the crowd. He didn’t have to fake it, either. Most of them could remember the day he was born, the way the fireworks had lit up the sky. In their way, they’d watched him grow up.

The guards kept Delta mostly hidden from view, only allowing glimpses. This was an intentional obfuscation, meant to add allure to the act. Delta just felt nervous. Paris’s hand kept drifting to his sword hilt.

You wouldn’t need to get close to the castle to see it was in disrepair. It had been staffed by a total skeleton crew, since practically everything valuable had already been taken away from it. Nobody lived there anymore.

Paris dragged a finger along the dining table, leaving a thin line in the dust. He wasn’t speaking much. Delta followed him around aimlessly, having been given no other instructions. Delta hadn’t seen most of these rooms before. He’d rarely been outside of the castle’s basement, only emerging briefly into the main courts for special occasions. The rooms did not look so dilapidated to him as they must have to Paris. To him, they simply looked dark.

Paris worked his way up to his bedroom, skipping completely over the room that had once belonged to his father. They’d both been sitting untouched since the day he left. He pulled the curtain back, letting the sunlight in. He turned around, startling a little as he saw Delta in the doorway.

“Oh, shit. I forgot you were here,” Paris’s voice was softer than Delta had ever heard it.

Paris locked him in one of the guest bedrooms, which he supposed was better than being chained to the bedpost.

============

They weren’t on until twilight. Paris hit his bong in the car. It was his childhood bong; it’d been waiting in his room for him all this time. He offered it to Delta, who politely declined.

“Fuck,” Paris coughed, his eyes watering, “I fucking hate speeches.”

The car pulled up behind the stage. The sound of the crowd was deafening, even from a distance. Paris put the bong on the floor of the car, wrapping his jacket tighter around him as the chauffeur let him out. Delta’s door opened. One of the guards guided him out with a rare gentleness. He was pretty sure he’d never seen so many of them posted outside of an active war zone. The moon was slowly becoming visible against the purple sky. Despite its reputation, most of Thales remained a very rural area. There were more stars visible here at night than most other planets in the galaxy.

They were both kept under guard until it was time to go onstage. One of Paris’s advisors, an old friend of the Emperor, led with an introduction. Some of the local lords would also go on to say their piece. Delta listened in out of curiosity, but he quickly found their doublespeak unbearable. They weren’t saying anything worthwhile. He had developed a kind of snobbery towards middle management types. He knew it was silly; he was technically ranked below every single one of them, classed as no more than a weapon. But he’d spent enough time in proximity to the top that their attitudes had rubbed off on him.

Paris took a last sip of some clear liquid — hopefully water. He gestured for Delta to follow him, jogging up the stairs to the podium. Delta tracked behind him. He folded himself into a kneel at stage left.

Paris raised his arms. The cheers were rapturous. Delta now found it almost impossible to tune out Paris’s voice the way he would others. It always triggered his stress response on some level; he’d conditioned himself to listen for it. He couldn’t help his body’s reaction.

“It’s an honor. Really. It’s always good to be home. I’ve missed Thales dearly and I am…immensely humbled by your support,” Paris was white-knuckling the podium. Delta could’ve rattled the campaign promises off one after another, he was so sick of hearing them. But this time, without question, there was some foreign sentimentality seeping into the prince’s voice. Some miniscule amount of strain as he struggled to talk around it.

Still, it was all going perfectly well until the arrow pierced Paris clean through the chest.

Screams. Rough hands immediately shoved Delta to the ground, shielding him with their bodies. Blood had splattered onto his white robes, across his face. If not for the shock, and if not for the terror, he might’ve laughed. All those fucking security guards, for what? By the time he got another look, Paris was laying limply on the ground. The arrow tip stuck out of his back. His blood pooling around him. It was the last view Delta got of the scene, before quickly being shoved back into the car.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit @indigoviolet311 @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @defire @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump

#whump #whump community #whump scenario #living weapon whumpee #royal whump #dehumanization

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fishfingersalad · 7 months ago

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Rvb bbc ghosts x buzzfeed unsolved au Leonard “Alpha” Church III and his older sister Carolina Church inherit a creepy manor in the middle of nowhere halfway across the country after their great grandfather Leonard “Epsilon” Church dies of old age (yes Epsilon being their great grandfather is odd, it's for lore reasons).

Church’s college roommate Tucker has a ghost hunting youtube channel (Church edits his videos for him) and decides the manor seems spooky so he tags along to check it out with his co host (Kai) and camera/audio guy (Caboose) as well as Junior. Tex (Churches on again off again gf) comes along to bully them for getting scared, whenever she ends up on the show their views go up so they don’t complain. Carolina doesn’t wanna be stuck alone with Church’s friends so she invites her workout buddy Wash.

Unbeknownst to them, Tuckers “rival” youtube channel (the reds, Simmons is video and editing, Grif is audio, Lopez is in charge of their other equipment) catch wind of their plan to investigate the manor (Kai told Grif who accidentally let slip to Sarge) and they (literally just Sarge) take it as a challenge and they decide (are forced by Sarge) to follow the others to the manor to do their own investigation (Donut flirts with Locus the gas station attendant. This is important to me for some reason). Doc is unofficially part of the red team crew as first aid aka he follows them around bc he's worried about them going to all these abandoned buildings with no medical knowledge

Cw: talk of deaths in some detail, especially fires.

The Manor is actually haunted, by fifteen different ghosts:

Wyoming: 1840’s, fell out a window onto a weathervane

Florida: 1960’s, aspirin overdose

York: 1980’s, car crash, has poltergeist abilities

North: 1850s, arsenic poisoning

South: 1850s, arsenic poisoning

Maine: 1910s, hunting accident, can sometimes be seen as a looming shadow in the dark

Ct: 1940s, military spy, shot

479er: 1960s, pilot, small aircraft crash

AI: 1920s, Children of a rich man who burned his house down while his wife was away with their youngest son, Leonard “Epsilon” Church (age 2 at the time). Delta (17), Theta (7), Eta (11), and Iota(11) died from smoke inhalation, Gamma (15) and Omega (14) were burned, Sigma (18) escaped the fire but succumbed to infection while still on the manor grounds. All of the ai ghosts carry a smell of smoke wherever they go (I have a drawing of them somewhere)

The only ones who can see the ghosts without outside influence (cameras, sensors, that stuff) are Church, Carolina, Wash, Donut, and Caboose, due to all five of them having near death experiences in their pasts, and later Doc after he’s possessed by Omega. Junior is also able to see ghosts though no one is sure why.

Most of the au’s “story” is just silly interactions with the ghosts pranking the youtubers and various shenanigans. Wash deadpan pretends there are no ghosts to annoy both York and Tucker. Junior befriends Theta, Eta, and Iota, which concerns Tucker to no end especially since he tends to act like a horror movie child, all “Daddy, the lady with the hole in her head is in the corner again, daddy my friends with no faces wanna go play outside”. Sarge has a holy water super soaker that he carries everywhere incase of “ghouls”. South takes great joy in tormenting Simmons specifically. York follows the youtubers around and throws things at them, he only uses his poltergeist abilities for mischief. Ct finds a secret joy in sneaking up on Church to make him jump. Donut keeps telling his friends that the ghosts are there and real but none of them really believe him despite York pelting them with random objects. Wash finds a stray kitten and the ghosts are all immediately infatuated and begin following it around. Florida and Donut gossip together. Doc has to figure out how to deal with a rage fueled fourteen year old taking over his body. Tex punches Tucker on camera and it becomes their most popular video to date. Their second most popular video includes Tucker being attacked by Sarge with his holy water super soaker.

I just have so many little silly ideas about them...

#rvb #red vs blue

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hirocimacruiser · 7 months ago

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What are old cars like to drive now?

Mazda Familia 3 door full time 4WD1600DOHC turbo review.

The second generation FF Familia tends to be overshadowed by the success of the first FF Familia. The Familia underwent a Key Concept model change in 1985, and the sports version of the 1.6 (twin cam turbo + full-time 4WD) became popular. Yasushi Shimono drove to Osaka for the later model after minor changes.

Text | Yasushi Shimono Photos Chihiro Abe

The other day, I rented a Familia car in Takamatsu, Shikoku. If you see Nippon Rent-a-Car, Toyota Rent-a-Car, and Nissan Rent-A-Car lined up at the counter in the airport lobby, if you're a car fan, you should probably rent a Mazda Rent-A-Car at this time of year.

It's a personal choice, but the Familia 1500AT I rented was actually very nice. The engine and suspension have the solid feel of a German car, and it feels great. Even though I've already driven over 20,000km, I can barely see any wear and tear.

During my summer vacation two years ago, I took a Familia rental car at the station in Tsuruoka, Yamagata Prefecture, and it was a great ride, and my family was happy with it.

For test drives, members of the media always ride in the manufacturer's so-called PR vehicles.

However, when they later try the same car in a rental car, they are often disappointed to varying degrees. I don't have the space to write about the reasons in detail here, but Familia is an extremely rare example of people rediscovering their charm through rental cars. It feels like a very seriously made car.

I am holding this.

FULLY MASCULINE NOUN CAR

In downtown Osaka, I was given a ride on a nostalgic Familia. 1988 model 3 door twin cam turbo 4W.D. It is a full-time 4WD high-performance model that was part of the second-generation FF Familia series that debuted in 1985.

I splurged on expensive 200,000 yen 0Z racing aluminum wheels for the car I bought this spring. There is a bright red mudflap in the wheel arches.

The guard hangs down. The hobby of the owner, Mr. M (35 years old), who really wants to drive a Lancia Delta Integrale, seems to be depicted on the outside.

The inside can also be customized.

It is. The front seats are BRIDE bucket seats. The handle is MOMO's Prototipo. At the tip of the shift lever is a plastic shift knob that looks like a white ball.

The main body of the 1.6LDOHC turbo engine has not been modified, but the muffler and air cleaner have been replaced with "HKS''. The suspension also uses Mazda genuine sports springs combined with GAB dampers. I'm not Kiyoshi Nishikawa, but I get the strong impression that he was trying to do things one by one, starting with what he could do. Mr. M, who works as a tire wholesaler, is a pleasant young man. It is the year of the year. When I pushed in the tape whose head was peeking out from the set, it played Mr. Children, which doesn't really suit Osaka (?).

However, once it started running, the Familia Integrale was a much more radical car than the standard.

First of all, the suspension is much harder than you might imagine from the specs. The ride quality is almost that of a competition vehicle, reacting honestly to the bumps and undulations of the road surface and transmitting short, jerky vibrations.

I didn't think it was power steering at first either. I slowly turned the steering wheel to turn off the engine and realized for the first time that it had power assist. That's how responsive it is. Basically, the normal engine is so energetic that it's hard to believe. Power is already 140 yen on NET display. However, it is more powerful than the face value, and at the signal Grand Prix the acceleration of all four wheels is like that of a rabbit.

I'll show you.

Even though it is a turbo, it starts to crash immediately after idling.

Delivers comfortable torque. The response in the low rotation range is also not bad. Tachometer red zone from 7000rpm. However, the latest 4-valve It's not as smooth and light as the unit.

It has been replaced with an air cleaner for competition. So, at the top end of 6500 or higher, the engine noise, mainly the intake noise, becomes louder.

Air conditioner control panels, air vents, and

-Dark areas where stereo units, ashtrays, etc. are crowded.

There was a designer who once described the center part of the dash as ``the most expensive part of the car's interior,'' but this car has a panel that says ``FULLTIME 4WD'' embedded in part of it. There is. It was kind of noisy. There is also a shiny silver switch inside the spring, and this is for locking the center differential. The owner once benefited from being muddy.

Apparently there is.

The turbo is effective without any noticeable bumps.

It starts to work, and what's more, it works like a turbo. I miss the way the green snail lights up in the instrument panel every time the turbo kick explodes. What's more, every time I shift up and release the accelerator, I hear the resonant whine of the turbine, which is nostalgic. I wasn't able to do it this time due to time constraints, but I was able to drive on mountain passes and some dirt roads, and it still looked really interesting. Manly and sweaty, a perfect masculine noun.

It's Luma.

Of course, the current Familia, which no longer has a sports model in its lineup, is not such a macho car. However, the Familia has always been a car that has not had a fancy feel to it for generations. Fancy is something like ``a womanly thing that a man has come up with.'' I like the character, which is unusual for domestically produced vehicles, but I'm sure there are people who say that's why it doesn't sell well.

PIC CAPTIONS

The second generation FF Familia underwent a full model change in January 1985. It has a 3/5-door hatch and a 4-door sedan body. Initially, it started with 1.3ℓ and 1.5ℓ NA and turbo units, but a 1.6ℓ turbo unit was soon added. The photo is of the later model. The body size is: total length x width x height = 3990 x 1645 x 1405mm. Wheelbase 2400mm.

The steering wheel has been replaced with "MOMO" and the seat has been replaced with "BRIDE". When the New Familia was announced, the company emphasized the improved quality of the interior, saying, ``If the packaging is the same, the quality of the interior is important.''

With minor changes in 8 years, NA unit

The remaining old E-type units were wiped out and replaced by B-type units. Photo of 1597cc 16V DOHC turbo with 140ps @ 6000rpm and 19.0kgm torque @ 5000rpm

Mr. M's Delta Familia has a majestic red mudguard. The ``GAB'' and ``HKS'' stickers and white OZ wheels clearly reflect the owner's taste.

#Mazda Familia #Familia 4WD turbo #Mazda 323 turbo 4WD

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pretty-little-whorror · 11 months ago

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Hi! Not sure if you’re really active on here but have would you ever write little blurbs or tiny pieces?? If so would you do one with post AoD/pre AvED Ash hooking up with the reader in the bathroom or in his car after meeting in a bar or something? If not you can just ignore this lol 😅

-🪽anon

Omg yeah my ass is on here my posting is just as consistent as gas prices. But I needed a flame under my ass to get me writing lmfao.

And of course a very happy Ash Wednesday for my girlies who celebrate

“Ah, shit” You cursed as your head knocked against the hard metal of the backside door. Ash chuckled above you as he helped you get situated in the backseat of his Delta.

“Oh c’mon baby, leave the cussin’ for the main event, huh?” He positioned himself over you, with one knee between your legs and his arms caging you on either side. You smiled back at him, shimmying down to prevent yourself from hitting your head again.

You ran your hands over the waffled texture of his Henley, your fingers playing with the undone buttons that previewed his sculpted chest. When he had been chatting you up in the bar, you hadn’t pinned him for a gym rat, but by no means were you complaining. He brought his lips down to yours and you felt the warmth of his left hand creep up your shirt; a stark contrast to the metallic cold of his right as he bunched your skirt above your hips to your waist. You gasped as you felt him cup your pussy over your panties, the thin fabric doing nothing to aide you from the sudden cool.

He leaned back to take a better look at what was hidden under your skirt, he smirked as he moved his dominant hand to play with the lace trim of your underwear. “A skirt that tiny and panties like this. Your lucky you found me so you could get the fucking you were looking for tonight baby.” His fingers slipped underneath the skimpy fabric, dancing over your clit before circling your doused entrance.

“Mhm,” He mused, running his fingers in feather-light movements over your core. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy you got, sugar.”

“Fuck….” You sighed, being more careful as to not hit your head again. Ash’s lips traveled from your neck, to you chest down her stomach until he landed above your cunt

With a satisfied smile, he pressed his tongue against your clit, flicking it gently before circling around it with increasing precision. His hands slid up your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer to his eager mouth.

He dove his tongue deeper, exploring every fold, crease and detail of your sex. He relished in the your taste and his movements became more determined.

As his tongue continued to lap at your pussy, his fingers moved back down to your entrance, sliding inside you and curling against just the right spot. The dual stimulation sent warm waves of pleasure throughout your increasingly needy body. You let out a needy whine as your hips involuntarily bucked up towards his face.

Ash groaned, relishing in your mewling and desperate movements; a sign he was doing everything right, not that he ever had any doubt he was doing anything wrong.

He increased the pressure of his tongue against your clit and changed the rhythm of his fingers to match, pushing deeper into you.

Your grip in his hair tightened as a welcome and familiar coil wound up in your core.

“Fucking hell, Ash”

You felt his mouth curl into a smile against your wet cunt in reaction to your whining. He gave one last kiss against your swollen clit before he made his way back up. Your mouth quickly found his again as you kissed him sloppily and desperately; your arms snaking around his neck and your nails gently digging into his back.

#okay all done i’m tired now #sorry but not really #ash williams #evil dead #bruce campbell #horror #ash vs evil dead #army of darkness #80s horror #ashy slashy #evil dead 2 #the evil dead #smut #drabble #imagine #one shot

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boostmobiledetailing · 10 months ago

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Car Detailing in Delta

Get your wheels gleaming with Boost Mobile Detailing in Delta! 🚗✨ From exterior shine to interior sparkle, we're your go-to for top-notch car detailing. Elevate your driving experience and book your session today!

#BoostMobileDetailing #Delta #CarDetailing #car care #auto detailing #interior car detailing #mobiledetailing #car detailing #mobile car detailing #interior car detailing near me #pressure washing

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tabscap123 · 2 months ago

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youtube

Yellow Star offers reliable car wash and car detailing services in various locations of British Columbia including Vancouver, Richmond, Delta, Burnaby, West Minster, Surrey, and Vancouver. Our team consists of 50+ members with over many years of experience in the automobile industry. We use cutting-edge techniques and chemical-free products to restore the shine of your vehicle. Quality car detailing services and car wash in Surrey should not put a burden on your pockets. Because of this, we provide all of our packages for mobile car detailing in Surrey at reasonable prices. We provide several options to fit your requirements and price range.

#Car cleaning delta #car wash delta #car detailing and car wash near me #Youtube

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valeriianz · 1 year ago

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a get to know me game!

found this in my drafts, whoops! tagged by @gabessquishytum <3 thanks :)

-----

Were you named after anyone?

not named after, but my name means "Christ-like" which is so fucking cringe of my evangelical parents (and my middle name adds onto it like a full on biblical phrase. i hate my name and is mostly why i just go by Kris now)

Do you have kids?

no and i never will.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

i used to joke with my staff that im "practicing my sarcasm" because working in restaurant kitchens surrounded by sarcastic ass, misogynistic men, i had to play by their rules to get any semblance of respect. but im quite bad at it and when im using sarcasm it nearly always comes across bitchy, so i've toned back a lot.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

their mood for sure. ive been managing and working with people for a while now and have gotten pretty good at gauging people's individual tells and how to best approach or keep my distance.

What's your eye colour?

brown.

Scary movie or happy ending?

hey some scary movies have happy endings, this is a bad question lol (both. both is good)

Any special talents?

not really, but i've worked quite a few odd jobs. i was a professional theatre critic for 2.5 years and also worked in a detail auto shop so ive been professionally trained to perform glass, wax, and leather treatments to cars, as well as general interior cleaning like salt extraction and steaming as well.

What are your hobbies?

im desperate to try and get back into hobbies. im in a rut in my life currently where i sleep, work, and on my days off i stare at my computer screen... its really fucking depressing. i wanna try getting back into video games but MOSTLY i am dying to do something with my hands, get my eyes off a screen (and i'll take suggestions, honestly).

Have any pets?

i currently have one black cat, his name is Dante :)

What sport do you play/have you played?

kickboxing! lol is that a sport?

How tall are you?

5'6 (167cm)

Favourite subject at school?

english

Dream job?

i dont think i have a "dream job" anymore. whatever it is though, i'd be working for myself and not giving my time and energy to something i don't care about.

tagging, if y'all want: @ml-nolan @delta-pavonis @kemurai6-dominion-of-dust @beatnikfreakiswriting @notallsandmen

#this got kind of depressing sorry guys lol #ive been in a mood i guess #tag game #personal

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dangersam · 19 days ago

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Happy Holidays everyone, here's one more small update for the year!

Weld tool

This is a new script mod tool that allows parts to be attached to one another, without them needing to be properly aligned together.

They can even be unfrozen.

Jointed attachments can be created, including rotary, slider, or any other type.

Note that the attachment locations are still derived from the part's alignment grids, so an attachment can't be created at an arbitrary position or orientation. This doesn't make much difference for fixed attachments, but it does limit the possible locations of jointed attachments.

Also note that some part behaviours may be expecting only one attachment of a certain type, and creating extra attachments with the weld tool may result in unexpected behaviour.

This tool is really intended for advanced builders who want to circumvent the usual grid based limitations, it's not intended to replace the standard building system.

Lua scripting

For the modders out there, there are some additions to the Lua scripting API. From a Lua script it's now possible to get and modify part behaviour tweakables, create and delete part attachments, and even apply physics forces to parts. I look forward to seeing what you can come up with using this stuff!

There are a few other improvements and additions too, as always, check out the release notes for details.

Thanks to you all for your support this year, for playing the game, and for sharing your amazing creations!

Release notes:-

Lua scripting changes and new features:-

Added new ITweakables interface implemented by part behaviour to provide access to its tweakables.

Added methods to IAttachmentOperations to create, replace, and delete part attachments.

Added FixedUpdate entry function, called on Lua scripts once per simulation time step.

Exposed fixed delta time value.

Added new IPhysical interface implemented by part descriptor, with a method for applying a force to a part.

Added TargetedPosition property to ITargeter interface.

New script mods:-

ServoTool - Sets a servo / stepper motor's trim angle from its current angle.

WeldTool - For attaching one part to any other, without them needing to be aligned together, or even frozen!

PhysicsExample - A simple demonstration of applying a force to a part.

New 2.5x9 truck wheel (rim designed by Nate).

Implemented joint force / torque debug visualisation, and added options to ConstructionDebug script mod to enable it.

Added dropdown menu to part behaviour UIs, as an alternative way to choose a joystick axis to bind.

Added toggle to video options for disabling chromatic aberration, independent of vignette.

Bug fixes.

#gearblocks #indie games #sandbox games #game development #steam

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boxboxblog · 1 month ago

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2024 Qatar GP Summary

Wow. What an absolutely wild race. Results were not at all what was expected, there were twists at every corner, and honestly it was the most nuts race of the season so far (including the madness of Brazil). So much happened, but let's dive into the most important moments.

So, before we even jump into the race start, the big news was Max Verstappen losing pole to George Russell after a post-quali grid penalty sent him to 2nd. This penalty was due to going slower than the delta time on a cool down lap and impeding Russell, and raised a lot of eyebrows because these kind of actions have never been penalized in this manner before. But really, that wasn't super important, because the race was much much more interesting.

First things first, the race start. Verstappen immediately took the lead from Russell, Norris jumped to 2nd, and much more. Gasly jumped up places, Tsunoda moved up 5, Hamilton dropped down, and in general it was a big old mess.

Then in lap 1 we had the first incident, when Franco Colapinto collided with Esteban Ocon, ending both of their races. This pulled out the first safety car, which lasted for multiple laps. The restarted, and Leclerc lost position to Piastri. Then shortly after on lap 8, Lance Stroll lost control of his car and crashed, forcing his retirements. This brought out another safety car. Throughout all of this there were wild penalties, collisions, pushing off road, the works. It was a very penalty heavy race and the severity seemed to be upped. This could be due to all the new employees the FIA has brought in for the last few races.

Other big news, Sergio Perez also had to retire after he spun off track. Unclear right now if it was a car issue or not. One lap later, Nico Hulkenberg had a mechanical failure and also had to retire.

Another safety car came out after a mirror on track was run over by multiple drivers, causing a puncture for Lewis Hamilton and Carlos Sainz. This was the third safety car of the day, which is wild.

Moving on to major penalties, most of the drivers received some today. Hamilton had two, one for an incorrect start one for speeding in the pit under the safety car, Russell had one at the end, Liam Lawson got one, Alex Albon got one, Pierre Gasly got one, Lance Stroll (before he retired) got one, and even more. Penalty city.

But the most important was the penalty Lando Norris received for failing to slow under a yellow flag. He got a 10 second stop and go, which was perhaps the harshest of the day. It sent him tumbling down to 15th, and he was barely able to crawl his way back up to finish in the points. Very harsh, and possibly unfair.

This isn't even looking into how the safety car effected the results. Poor McLaren pitted Oscar Piastri, only for a safety car to be called immediately after and having the top runners all pit under it. This meant he lost his 2nd place position to Charles Leclerc, who held him off for the rest of the race.

And all of this is just a brief look. I am not even diving into the specifics of the penalties, all the changes under the safety cars, or things like that. What a crazy race.

I will go into more detail on certain drivers races in my Winners and Losers post.

Race Results:

Verstappen

Leclerc

Piastri

Russell

Gasly

Sainz

Alonso

Zhou

Magnussen

Norris

Bottas

Hamilton

Tsunoda

Lawson

Albon

Hulkenberg (DNF)

Perez (DNF)

Stroll (DNF)

Colapinto (DNF)

Ocon (DNF)

Cheers,

-B

#f1 #formula 1 #2024 qatar gp #qatar gp 2024 #f1 races

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burstanddecay · 2 years ago

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Clouded Eyes

The bluest things on earth don't know shit about the blues.

Pairing: Benny Miller x (named) F!Reader Summary: You wonder if, despite your efforts to keep the damage behind closed doors, Benny somehow knew how bad you've gotten, or if he's just now seeing the ruins for the first time. Wordcount: 2K Contains/Warning: A continuation of the preface, this chapter deals with passive suicide ideation. This is mostly angst, folks. Part two of Cold Is The Night

You’re tired.

Not the kind of tired that comes after a productive day, but the kind that settles into your bones, that aches and begs for deep sleep.

It’s something you feel often lately, when the anxiety crashes and burns.

Benny had goaded you towards his truck, clipping your seatbelt in place before you even could blink, already in the drivers seat and turning out of the parking lot before you could voice a single protest on the whole thing.

Despite that, the steady hum of the engine almost proves to be calming, if it weren’t for one small detail.

The car ride is fully silent, not even the radio playing as Benny’s gaze is focussed on the road. An anomaly: he’s talkative to a fault at times, filling the empty spaces with thoughts, things he’s seen or heard, memories he’s willing to share.

His posture, too, is off: he usually has a single hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the armrest, completely at ease as he navigates through traffic. Today, both hands are on the wheel, placed at three and nine. Though the positioning is technically correct, it looks unnatural on Benny.

“You gonna tell me where you’re taking me, or am I gonna have to guess?” you ask, the words softer than you meant for them to be, eyelids heavy as your head is leaned back against the headrest.

He doesn’t reply, instead continues to stare at the asphalt stretched in front of you, not a single car in sight. It’s quiet enough that you could fall asleep like this, into the kind of sleep that comes with a tired mind that knows it’s in a safe place, but Benny’s silence keeps you from it.

Instead of giving into the exhaustion tugging at you like a persistent toddler, you open your mouth, ready to fill the void with half baked guesses when he suddenly pulls to the side of the road, coming to a halt in the frosty gras.

“Wh—Ben?” you ask, breath halting in your throat, suddenly wide awake. You shift in your seat, the leather creaking beneath as you sit up, hand coming up to his arm.

He shakes his head, knuckles white as the steering wheel protests under his iron grip, muscles twitching beneath your fingers. A small reminder of the brutal strength he possessed, but that he never used outside of work.

“Benny?”

“Mh,” he hums in acknowledgement, the sound rumbling through the quiet night, his head ducked as his shoulders rise and fall in a controlled pattern.

You don’t want to say the words. You can’t say them, you don’t want to hurt him even more than you already have, but they’re flashing in your head like a warning sign.

You’re scaring me.

Not because you think he might hurt you.

It’s just that in all the years you’ve known Benny, you’ve never seen him like this. Not after returning from deployment with his first squad, to coming back from his first mission with the delta force, or the one deployment that took him away from home for six months with almost no contact because of the level of confidentiality.

It isn’t like nothing seems to shake him: of course it does. He’s seen atrocities you can’t even begin to imagine, done unspeakable things in the name of his country. He was quiet upon returning every time, a little hollow, as if little bits of him were chipped away, but he was still Bennyat his core and mostly bounced back to those core aspects.

And yet you’ve never seen him like this. As if something touched a part that has remained untouched all these years, rattling him to his core, unable to pull up the façade that he was trained to maintain no matter the circumstances.

You hesitate, not sure what to say or ask, and start to pull back your hand when Benny catches you off guard, his warm palm engulfing your hand before you can remove it from his arm. Your breath falters, almost sounding like a gasp at the unexpected gesture. He doesn’t lift his head, but you can see a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth regardless, his quiet and steady breathing easing you.

Eventually, his gaze finds yours, blue eyes searching for something you can’t figure out, and he gives your hand a soft squeeze before reaching for the key. The car comes back to life and he pulls out of the grass with ease, his posture a little more relaxed than it was before.

You want to ask, more than anything, but it feels like something you lost the right to a long time ago. You shut him out: you don’t get to pry. It’s as easy as that.

“I’m taking you to the ring I train at,” Benny says, eyes trained on the road. “I’ve got the keys, no one will be there.” With that, he looks at you in a quick glance. “We’re gonna spar, you and I. Right now. Give everything that’s going on in that head of yours an out. I should’ve taken you to do that way earlier.”

“You couldn’t have known, Ben,” you say, voice quiet.

The steering wheel creaks as he adjusts his hand, jaw tense. “But I did, didn’t I?”

Of course he did. You aren’t stupid: you know to give credit where credit is due. There was a reason why Benny had been in the Delta Force, and it wasn’t just brutal strength.

Ben Miller is as smart as a whip, and is even more skilled in the department of hiding it. He makes decisions in a split second, both the calculated and impulsive kind, and is a master in manipulating the outcome when it threatens to slip of out his control, to ensure the outcome is as intended. He usually doesn’t get the credit and is fine with that: it works in his favour to let people believe he’s not the one calling the shots, his shadow work holding the loose threads together on the downlow.

You don’t often get to see that side of him. It comes out very rarely, usually just the happy-go-lucky golden retriever side of his personality at the forefront, but it always leaves you in awe to see him in his element. It happens in the ring, during high pressure situations, and when others lose control, even if it’s a just little bit.

Will moving house comes to mind: his ten year relationship had come an end when his ex-wife had cheated on, citing emotional distance as the reason. Though the elder Miller rarely showed emotion, being the more stoic one of the brothers and their friend group in general, you felt it a cruel reasoning. Will is many things; stoic, dry-humoured, serious, but he isn’t heartless. When he trusts you, he does so with his full heart and soul. It’s something all of them have in common: being able to blindly trust their squad was the key to staying alive and helping others do the same.

During the move, you could see him slipping between the cracks: there was a little uncertainty in the way he carried himself, unnoticeable to a bystander and nearly invisible to his friends, but not to Benny. He’d notice if someone was running a fever just by looking at them: his brother slipping between the cracks was like a beacon being lit. In result, Benny stood in places where Will couldn’t, keeping things upright when they’d been threatening to crumble, all while letting Will maintain the feeling of full control.

It's a work of art to see happening in real time, but it makes you wonder just how much of you Benny has been holding up without you noticing. How hard he tries to glue the pieces back together, to sew up gaping wounds, to place tourniquets to ensure you don’t fully bleed dry as you keep going and going and going.

The other options is that you have been succeeding at hiding it, and he’s just now getting a glimpse at seeing just how big the damage actually is. How much of you is being held together by the inability to give up, even though a part of you is begging for it.

You’re not sure which is worse.

You silently wring your hands in your lap, not sure what to say.

“I knew you…” he starts, and you can practically hear the frown on his face, see the crease between his eyebrows. “Fuck. Look, I could see you weren’t doing great, and I fucking—”

“Don’t you dare—”

“—carry some of that blame, alright? I should’ve stepped in, and—”

“I’m not a child that needs minding, Ben, I can—”

He hits the break, causing you to fall forward in your seatbelt as the car comes to an abrupt stop on the abandoned road.

“I know you can take care of yourself Peach, but that doesn’t fuckin’ mean you have to carry every goddamn thing alone.”

His accent comes out thick, the countryside that he grew up on shining through. You always figured that he’d be a cowboy given half the chance, but he ended up in the army instead.

You bite the inside of your cheek, jaw clenched so tightly that pain radiates up to your temples and the bitter tang of blood fills your mouth, a thousand yard stare aimed at the road.

Next to you, Benny heaves out a low sigh and a warm hand finds your thigh, fingers squeezing gently just above your knee. “I shouldn’t have snapped—it was outta line. I’m sorry.”

The breath stuck in your throat feels the size of a brick, hard and stuck sideways, Benny’s hand familiar in the way that he’s always casually touching you. A hand on your thigh, on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, an arm around the back of your seat.

“I’m fucking tired, Benny,” you say, voice breaking a little as you break your stare away from the lit up road, back down to your hands. There are no tears: where they’d been threatening to spill earlier, they were replaced with that bone aching, all-compassing feeling of exhaustion as soon as Benny buckled you in.

“I know.”

His voice is low, heavy; an anchor.

You know it’s not right, but that’s what Benny is. An anchor, keeping you somewhat in place in the middle of a vast ocean. You can’t drown, even if you wanted to: you’d take him right down with you.

You’re sure you’re imagining it, but it almost feels as if his hand is trembling as he shifts his fingers.

“We’re maybe five minutes out. Five minutes,” he says. “And then we’ll kick and scream until we’ve got no voice left, we’ll confront every single thing that’s stuck in your head.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, the sound light in a way that only Benny could cause.

“What’s so funny?”

“You couldn’t lose your voice if you wanted,” you tell him with a half smile, finally turning to look at him. “You were born to be a loud presence in this world. You need that voice.”

He looks at you for a moment before a smile appears on his lips, his eyes carefully scanning your face.

“That’s not the only thing I need.”

“Ben—”

“I need you to pull through this fucking thing, Peach.” The smile is still there, but his true feelings are hidden behind a carefully crafted mask. “Really. I’ll be with you day and night if I have to, but whatever it is your head is tryin’ to tell you, it’s wrong.”

You open your mouth to protest, almost telling him that there most certainly is at least one thing it’s insisting upon that is wrong, but something about the look in his eyes stops you.

“I need you here, okay? We’ll just take it five minutes at a time. We can do that, right?”

“Five minutes,” you agree quietly.

“Five minutes,” he mumbles before the lifts his foot off the break and slowly starts picking up speed again, his hand never leaving your thigh as he continues the drive into the darkness.

#benny miller x reader #ben miller x reader #benny miller x you #ben miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #benny miller

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