#google photos helped me out here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

golden-cherry · 2 months

Text

deal - cl16 (34/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The boat that's actually a yacht - and it's just the two of you.

Warnings: fluff, minimal angst, Google translated French, no knowledge of boats

Word Count: 3.9k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: we're back bitches!!! love you. feedback is appreciated!

"What do we need?" you ask, taking a sip of your coffee. "Apart from Kika's spontaneous photos, I've only taken pictures of inanimate objects so far. And the one of you."

Charles shrugs his shoulders. "When Joris and I take photos together, we'll pack a bag of different clothes." When you raise an eyebrow in confusion, Charles purses his lips. "We always take several photos, for several posts. If we don't have time to take new pictures, we always have some in stock that we can use without them looking like old pictures."

"Okay." You put your mug down on the work surface in front of you. "Anything else?"

Your roommate grins. "Your camera."

"Haha." You toss it off with a kitchen towel. "I mean, do you need anything else in the way of props or anything?"

He shakes his head. "Actually, no. Everything you could possibly need for a photo shoot is already on the boat." He nods towards the hallway. "You just need long clothes in case it gets colder later."

You nod. "All right. Then you pack a bag with the things you need and I'll pack one with clothes I can wear if it gets cold later." You walk around the kitchen island towards the hallway.

"And don't forget your camera." You can even hear the smirk, which is why you give him the middle finger without turning around.

As you stand in your room, you don't really know what to pack.

Although it's supposed to be twenty degrees outside - which sounds totally surreal for a day before Christmas - your weather app tells you that it's going to be almost three degrees at night.

"How long are we staying on the boat?" you shout loudly so that Charles can hear you. You throw a large bag on the bed.

"No idea," says Charles calmly. When you turn around, he's standing in the doorway. "You and I can leave after the pictures. Or stay there all day. Or the night." He shrugs his shoulders. "There's no time when the boat has to be back in port."

You sigh. "I'm afraid that doesn't help me much." You point to the bag on the bed. "I can't pack my entire closet, Charles. Tell me what to pack." You look at him pleadingly.

"All right." He enters your bedroom and looks around before reaching for some clothes lying on the floor. "Here, the sweatpants are good. If you want to lie out on the sun bed in the evening, you'll need these." He tosses them to you. You catch them and fold them up to stow them neatly in your bag. "Do you have comfy socks or something?"

"Ehm, yeah," you say, pulling some out of the pile of clothes Kika left there and tucking them into the side pocket of the bag.

Charles kneels down on the floor and sifts through the pile at your feet. "You'll definitely need a thick sweater. It's going to be pretty windy when we're out at sea." He rummages around in your clothes until he fishes out a black sweater and holds it out to you. "Tada."

The first thing you notice about the sweater is that it's not yours. The black hoodie is too big to be yours. The second thing you notice about it is that it's the sweater Charles gave you the night you went to your favorite place.

The night Charles showed you his talent on the piano. The night you almost kissed. It feels like it was a lifetime ago.

You can't tell Charles that you don't want to wear the sweater, even though it's incredibly comfortable. It certainly still smells like Charles, although perhaps not as strongly - after all, he hasn't worn it for days. You don't want to be wrapped up in his scent and be at risk of getting weak. The distance that needs to exist between you is the right thing to do.

Charles looks at you questioningly from the floor and you realize you've already hesitated too long.

"That - that's not my sweater," you simply say.

Your friend examines the sweater in his hand. "Really?" he asks, confused, smelling the collar. "But it smells like you."

You shake your head. "That's yours. You - uh - you lent it to me when we went to petits mondes," you explain as he folds the fabric and puts it to one side.

"Oh. Right." He looks at the sweater before his gaze lands on you again. "You can keep it if you want."

You wave it off. "It's all right. Thanks for letting me borrow it. But it's yours after all, so..." You step nervously from one foot to the other.

Charles watches you for a moment and then turns away. "All right, then. How about this one then?" He pulls another sweater out of the pile of laundry. This time it's actually yours. It's white, with red stripes on it and the collar reaches up to your chin. You definitely won't catch a cold in this.

"It's good," you reply with a smile and catch it as he throws it to you. You fold it before putting it in your pocket as well. "What about your clothes? Do you want them in the bag too?" you ask him, hoping that he will take his clothes separately and not infect your clothes with his smell.

Charles gets up from the floor. "I'll pack my own bag. You still have to pack your camera," he smiles, patting non-existent dust off his pants. "About the trip to the port..." he begins, rubbing the back of his neck.

You grab your camera bag and stow it next to your clothes in your bag. Hopefully the spare battery is charged. "Hmm?"

"I suggest we take your car and I'll drop you off. Then you won't have to walk far to get to the boat," he explains. "I'll park your car in a side street and then join you. Then we won't be seen together."

You look at him, confused. "Can people just get on your boat like that? Aren't you afraid that some crazy fans will suddenly come out of - I don't know - your cabin?"

Charles has to smile. "Someone will be waiting for you there. They'll let you on the boat."

Embarrassed, you curl your lips into a thin line. Of course there's someone at the docks to make sure no one sneaks onto strangers' boats. "Okay."

You stand opposite each other, undecided, until Charles takes the first step. "I'll just pack my bag and then we can go." Smiling, he disappears from your bedroom.

While Charles stuffs everything he can find into a bag, you gather some snacks in the kitchen to take with you on the boat. Charles has hinted that there would be a cook on site, but you might not be there for too long, so a proper meal wouldn't be worth it.

As you prepare some sandwiches and put them in a bag, Charles appears behind you. "Are you ready?" he asks, leaning on the kitchen island.

"Yep," you reply and place a few small bottles of water next to the sandwiches. When you look at Charles, he grins. "What is it?"

"Nothing." His grin almost reaches his ears. "There's water on the boat too, you know."

You roll your eyes. "I've never been on a boat before."

Charles raises his eyebrows briefly before shrugging his shoulders. "It's not as special as you make it out to be."

You squint your eyes a little. "Only rich people say that."

He tilts his head. "Do you want to go on the boat or not?"

"Like I said," you start the sentence and grab the snacks, "only if I can steer it once."

Charles reaches for the keys to your Renault. "Don't you dare crash it," he warns you as you walk towards the elevator. He presses the button and a short time later the doors open. "That boat was expensive."

"Don't worry," you try to reassure him. "I'll just hold the wheel firmly and steer straight ahead." You wink at him and step into the elevator.

Charles has to smile and follows you. "I think I'll only let you take the wheel on the open sea. There's much less risk of you ramming other boats."

"You have a lot of faith in me," you say with mock hurt and put your hand on your chest.

"I do," he says seriously. "I'd trust you with my life."

You walk uncertainly around the various walkways.

Before you got out of the car, Charles said there would be a man standing in front of his boat to help you find it. You would also have to say a password so that you would be granted access to Charles' boat.

"For security," he explained. "We don't want everyone to get on the boat."

With your two bags on your shoulders, you walk past a few boats that certainly cost more than you'll ever earn. But nowhere is there a man to signal that you are in the right place.

There are a few people at the harbor, but no one pays you any attention. They are chatting with friends, frolicking on boats and enjoying the warmth of the sun one last time before the year is over and winter finally sets in. You walk past them with your head down.

Cautiously and indecisively, you walk on and the boats become yachts on which great parties are sure to take place in summer. They are big and nice and you wonder whether you should google one of the types to find out what price range the yachts of the rich and famous are in.

You are torn from your thoughts by a man. "Madame? Vous cherchez quelque chose?" are you looking for something?

Somewhat taken by surprise, you stop. You are standing in front of a large, white yacht. With its two floors, it towers above its neighbors by quite a bit.

"Uhm," you look at the man uncertainly. "Je cherche le bateau d'un ami," you explain. I'm looking for my friends boat.

The man raises an eyebrow as if he's wondering what you're doing here. Your uncertainty and searching eyes probably made you stand out immediately. You don't fit in here, that's for sure.

When the man doesn't answer, you try the password Charles told you. "Chicken?" you ask uncertainly, but when the man smiles at you and reaches for your pockets, you exhale with relief.

You've found the boat. Thank goodness.

The man helps you onto the yacht and leads you past the sun bed into the interior, which is much bigger than you imagined, and places your bags on a couch. A couch. On a boat. How crazy.

"Voulez-vous boire quelque chose?" would you like something to drink? He smiles kindly at you.

"Non, merci," you thank him and look around. On the floor, next to a couch and a small bar, is the steering wheel, which you hope you'll be able to take the plunge on later. To the right, a staircase leads down to the lower floor, where there are not just one, but three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen.

Astonished, you run your fingers over one of the large beds. The fabric is soft and pleasant against your skin and you can almost imagine how comfortable the bed would be if you snuggled up there after a day in the sun.

"I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't find my boat."

As you turn around, Charles is standing at the foot of the stairs, watching you. Without further ado, you sit down on the bed behind you. "I was looking for a boat too. Not a castle on the water."

He has to grin. "The boat is still relatively small compared to the ones that dock here in the harbor in summer."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

He takes a step towards you. "Really. I'm the outsider with my little boat. There's nothing under five stories." He bites the inside of his cheek. "How do you like my boat?"

You nod. "Your yacht is really nice." You grin at him and take a look at the bed you're on. "But why do you need so much space at sea?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I usually spend the summer break here with my family. Not all of the time, of course, but when we go out on it, it's quite a few days. And I'll be damned if I'm going to share a bed with Arthur."

You try to suppress your grin, but unfortunately you don't succeed. "Why? Does he kick while he sleeps?"

"No," says Charles, leaning against the bed at a little distance from you. "But he used to steal the blanket in the past and then I had to freeze all night."

You raise an eyebrow. "Couldn't you have just fought for it?"

"Believe me when I tell you I tried several times," he rubs the back of his neck with his hand. "He practically wraps himself up like a burrito and when that happens, you've lost."

"Then I know who I'd never share a bed with," you joke, but Charles looks a little more serious.

"I hope so." Before the mood can turn negative, he smiles at you. "Are you ready? Shall we go out?"

You look at him excitedly. "Oh yes." You jump off the bed and smooth out the creases you've left in the comforter. "How long will it take us to get outside?"

"Not long at all. I think twenty minutes and that's it," he explains, turning to head up the stairs.

When you reach the top, Charles gets behind the wheel. You look at him, confused. "Are you driving the yacht?"

"Yep."

"All the time?"

"Yep." He grins at you. "Except for the time you're at the wheel, of course."

You want to jump up and down with excitement. "And where's the man who let me on the boat?"

Charles presses a few buttons and the display in front of him comes to life. "Thomas? He's left the boat."

"Are we all alone?" you ask uncertainly and sit down on the couch. "I thought you still had a chef on board?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "You brought some snacks with you. Thomas also packed some food in the fridge in case you and I want to cook something later."

You purse your lips. You would spend the whole day on the water with Charles. Alone. And you would take pictures of him, which he would post on his official Instagram profile. And you would cook in the small kitchen in the basement. The distance you want to maintain between you seems to be shrinking somehow.

"You're not going out on the boat with me to kill me and get rid of me discreetly, are you?" you ask him jokingly.

"Believe me. If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it on our first day," he grins and puts his hands on the steering wheel. "Are you ready?" Charles asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. His green eyes sparkle in the sunlight and small dimples form in his cheeks as he looks at you.

Gorgeous.

You smile back. "I'm ready, captain."

He winks at you. "Let's go then."

Concentrating, Charles steers his yacht out of the harbor between the other boats. The rocking is surprisingly pleasant and not as bad as you expected, so you lie down on the couch and wait until you arrive at your destination. Charles remains silent for a while, so you don't say anything either, worried about disturbing his concentration, but while he steers the boat, you start working on your camera settings and think about which one would be best for your shoot.

After twenty minutes, the yacht comes to a halt and Charles turns to you. "Alright."

Excitedly, you get up from the couch and follow him outside to the sun bed you had your eye on when you boarded. As you look around, you are amazed. You can still see the land in the distance, but you are so far out that it almost merges with the horizon. Although there is a sea breeze blowing around you, the sun is so bright that you don't freeze. It's reflected on the clear water and you want to put on a bikini and jump in.

Charles seems to notice your gaze. "Next summer, I'll take you with me and then you can swim and sunbathe here until you get sunburnt."

You smile at him. "I'll gladly take you up on that offer." You glance back inside. "Do you need to get changed or are we going to start straight away?"

Charles snaps his fingers once before pulling his shirt over his head and disappearing towards the interior. You try not to stare after him and you ignore how wide his back is and how his muscles move under his skin as he puts his shirt down on the couch. He opens his bag and pulls out a white shirt. When he turns back to you, you turn away quickly, hoping he hasn't noticed you watching him.

"Ready when you are."

Charles changes clothes more often than you can imagine. He has different outfits ready for every pose and every location on his yacht, which he slips into in order to take the best possible picture. In between, you take a sandwich break on the sun bed and enjoy the warm sun on your skin before getting back to work.

It doesnt take long for you to figure that Charles is the perfect man for the job. He's so easy to work with, even though he jokes most of the time and you surely have more photos of him looking funny than serious. But you enjoy it the way it is. Happy, free, without a care in the world.

When you have finished and Charles is happy with the photos you took, he suggests going home in the evening. You nod and sit down on the couch.

When he looks at you expectantly, you raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What is it?"

"I thought you wanted to steer the boat." In his hand, he holds a bandana that he ties around his head to control his hair, which is messy from the constant changing of clothes.

You widen your eyes. "I thought you were messing with me."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Why would I do that? There's nothing and no one here that you can put at risk. And you won't be steering for long." He leans against the seat in front of the wheel. "If you want, the seat is yours."

Excited, you get up from the couch and get behind the wheel. Charles explains everything to you and you try to concentrate on his words as best you can, but he is so close to you that his scent of perfume, a little sweat and him envelops you.

With his help, the boat sets off and you jump up and down on the seat with joy. Your hair is blowing around your head and it's so loud that you almost scream. "Oh my God! How fucking awesome is that?" You don't even notice that you've let go of the steering wheel.

"Hands on the wheel, you crazy woman!" laughs Charles, holding the wheel tightly. As you look at him, you see a spark of the Charles you know. The Charles that existed before yesterday.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you apologize and put your hands back on the wheel. "Oh my God! Can you take a picture of me?"

Charles takes two steps back and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. "Smile, please."

You grin so wide it almost hurts, but you can't stop. It seems so unbelievable that you are on a yacht and even get to steer it.

You smile at Charles, tears stinging your eyes. A few days ago, you were almost homeless, all alone and on your own. There aren't enough words in the world to describe how grateful you are for the Monegasque who took you in. Who took you into his heart without hesitation. Who was there for you without batting an eyelid.

Fuck, you love him. And nothing in the world will ever change that.

"Thank you."

He lowers his cell phone. "For what?"

A tear escapes your eye and rolls down your cheek. "For everything."

Charles takes a step towards you and you would love to take him in your arms and never let him go again. But he stops an arm's length away from you and smiles at you. "I would do anything for you."

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks, so you avert your gaze and look ahead again. Monaco is getting closer, but you would prefer to stay here. On the yacht and on the sea. You don't want to go back to reality yet - not if you can be here with Charles. The way it was before.

"I don't want to go back yet," he voices your thoughts and puts a hand on the wheel. When you look at him, he smiles a little brokenly. "I don't want to go back yet because I'm afraid that things won't be the same between you and me. That I'll lose you. And I don't want that."

His words hit you so hard that you can't breathe. You would love to take him in your arms and kiss him and reassure him that you belong to him like the sand belongs to the sea, but that's not the way Charles means it.

But you don't care how Charles means it. You belong to him - no matter which way.

"Then let's not go back," you suggest. "We - we can stay here and we won't go back until tomorrow."

Charles' smile looks forced. "And then?"

"Then we'll go home." You bite the inside of your cheek and purse your lips. "To our home."

Charles exhales in relief, as if the elephant that had been standing on his chest had finally gotten off of him. As if he had been underwater for too long and could now take his first breath. He would love to stay here forever, with you, far away from the reality of all the pressure he is under.

As you smile at him, the pressure seems to fall off him. As if he has finally reached his destination, wherever that may be. Like he's home.

Fuck, he'd do anything for you if you just asked him to.

He motions for you to let him into the seat, and as you swap places, he brings the yacht to a halt. As the engine shuts down, he slides off the seat and turns to face you.

"Have you ever gotten drunk on a boat before?"

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

646 notes · View notes

velvetsainz · 10 months

Text

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] charles is away in baku and you remind him of what he's missing. part two.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp, use of explicit language, phone sex, masturbation, google-translated french (lmao), a dash of fluff, i like em dashes too much

a/n: baby's first smutlet! i've been writing for like twelve years but i've never posted to tumblr, so here's to first times! there'll def be at least a part ii to this, but i'm also hoping to write for other drivers soon(ish). also giant mega thank you to @multiseb21 + @lecrep for your support—y'all have been so incredibly sweet & i am so thankful for you!! anyways, i hope y'all like this! enjoy, loves! xx

“Chérie,” his voice crooned over the line, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Don’t tease, mon ange—it’s already hard enough being away from you for so long.”

“Weren’t you the one who said he’d be fine just a month ago?,” you retorted, voice low. The cards were in your hands now, and Charles was desperate. He was a nomad lost in the desert and you were his oasis on the horizon, just the sound of your voice enough to slake his thirst.

“Yes, but then you sent me that picture and—” You hear him curse again under his breath, his fist acting as a poor substitute for the velvet heat of your walls. He swore he wasn’t going to let you leave that bed once he got his hands on you again.

Charles wasn’t entirely wrong: you were the biggest fucking tease known to mankind. Earlier that evening you sent him a semi-absentminded photo of you fresh from the shower, steam still obscuring the best parts of the photo with a fresh white towel around your hips and one gathering your hair on top of your head. He’d always had something about you fresh from the shower—every time he’d nearly pounce as soon as you’d pad back into the bedroom from the steamy confines of the bathroom, hair wrapped on top of your head just as it was now. (Part of you thought it was something primal in him: you’d washed away his scent on your skin and he needed to make his territory known again, that horn dog.) Still, he was ever the gentleman and would make the endeavor more than worth your while.

“Yeah, that was pretty bad of me, wasn’t it?,” you ceded with a knowing smirk on your lips as you sat back from your desk, closing your laptop slowly. You’d wanted to get a little more work done after your shower, but the Monégasque wasn’t keen to let sleeping dogs lie and needed to hear your voice for himself.

“So bad, chérie,” he agreed with tone of exasperation, a heavy sigh passing through the phone, “And you’re not even here to help a–”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help in other ways,” you were quick to remind him, the words coming from your mouth quicker than your shame would force you to bottle them up. Heat was creeping to your cheeks, and you could feel the familiar coil of desire tightening deep in the pit of your belly.

“Are you—?”

“That’s why you called, isn’t it, baby?,” you asked only to get a stifled groan from the other side. “You wanted me to tell you how I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you continued, “how I miss your hands on my hips, your cock so deep—”

“Fucking hell,” Charles practically whines as you push yourself away from the desk now, allowing yourself to relax into the seat of the chair and your hips to ease apart despite every part of you wanting to grind them together to relieve the dull ache that rested between them.

“What would you do if I was there now, Cha?,” you asked softly, hand splayed out over the plush of your thigh, eyes glazing over as you pictured him there with you. You wanted his hands everywhere; you couldn’t decide where you truly needed him most. Fingers curling against that hidden spot in your tight cunt, threaded through your hair and pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder, gripping your thighs so tight they’d leave bruises that he’d fuss over later—it all sounded like heaven compared to the lonely hell of your shared Monte Carlo flat.

“I want to taste you, mon cœur,” he replied shakily as his breath came faster, the sound of him fisting his cock becoming more and more prominent as time passed; he wasn’t going to last long like this, but you both already knew that—it wasn’t the point of this exercise. “I’d have you coming on my tongue, let you taste yourself when I kiss you—putain,” the driver cursed once more as his brow furrowed. He was leaking precum over his ironclad grip and all he wanted was to slide his fingers past your plump lips to feel the wet heat of your tongue take care of the mess.

You let out a tremulous breath over the line, one you hadn’t known you’d been holding onto so tightly until your head started swimming with need. Your hand had drifted from its origin, rubbing lazy circles over the cotton of the panties you’d slipped into after the inciting picture. On your top half was a worn, faded shirt of Charles that you’d taken a liking to as a nightshirt—especially when you were missing him as you were so desperately now.

“Need you in me,” you begged, the emptiness you felt so acutely coming to the forefront of your senses, “You always do such a good job filling me—my fingers don’t do you justice.”

You hear a groan on the other side of the line, the man now sitting on the edge of the bed as he tries to keep himself in check. He wasn’t ready for this to be over so soon; you had him feeling like a teenager again, ready to spill at a moment’s notice. Granted, this wasn't anything new: there's something so intoxicating about you that destroyed whatever semblance of restraint, of control he had over his lust.

“Want you in my mouth, give me something better to do than tease you like this,” to which you received a choked merde, the man hanging on your every word as the hand between your legs abandoned its objective—you could take care of that later. You were too caught in every little sound that passed his plush lips, listening for every little cue his body so willingly gave you.

“Want your hands in my hair, guiding me up and down your cock,” you keened for him on a whine, his breathing heavy and labored. He was running at full speed to the cliff's edge, and you were there watching, waiting in the grass. “Want your cum on my tongue, baby,” you whined.

“Promise not to waste any, minette?,” he grunted, gritting his teeth as you hummed your assurances. “Such a good girl f’me, yes–”

With a strained hiss and a groan he came sloppily over his hand, thankful enough that he wasn’t home in Monaco so he didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the mess he’d made. “Fuck,” he croaked, breathing heavy as he came down from the blinding high your words had catapulted him through. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been taking care of business when duty called, but something about your voice, the thought of you there…it clutched everything into a higher gear.

“Better?,” you asked, sly smile audible to the Ferrari driver; he didn’t need to see you to know the shit-eating, satisfied smile that took over your lips.

With a tired laugh he nodded, slumping back onto the cool rumpled sheets of the hotel bed as he stared absently at the dark ceiling. It was three in the morning in Baku, and he couldn’t sleep—the thoughts your cheeky picture had invited wouldn’t let him.

“Get some rest, tiger,” you teased him, knowing he’d have to be awake in a few short hours. You debated sending him another picture in the morning as motivation, tiding him over until you’d join him later that weekend.

“Que ferais-je sans toi, mon amour?,” he asked, sleep heavy in his voice as he rolled the right way onto the bed and running a hand through his hair. He’d deal with the mess he’d made in the morning along with the flowers he’d send you—he really didn’t know what he’d do without you.

“I guess we’ll never know, hm?,” you replied gently, smile melting into something softer as you fiddled with the gleaming ring on your left hand.

1K notes · View notes

greenmossyrock · 2 months

Text

Fatima Rey is a 27 year old Palestinian woman currently living in the North of Gaza, with her two children and many other Palestinians.

Due to the ongoing genocide, she and her family are homeless and need money to buy a new tent, to help Fatima's brother and sister recieve medical aid and to buy food and water.

Food is very expensive in the North of Gaza currently due to it's scarcity, with one meal for Fatima and her neighbours costing between $100 - $200. They need donations urgently.

Here are some of the photos she shared with me:

Fatima spoke to me about how she helps prepare food and distribute water between the people living around her, but that because there are so little donations people are getting hungry.

When I first spoke to her a few weeks ago, she hadn't eaten in 2 weeks.

Here is the food she managed to buy with some donations:

This is a picture of her and her children from her twitter profile.

Here are the links to her gofundme and paypal.

By donating to her paypal, the money goes straight to her, whereas withdrawing money from gofundmes usually takes a few days.

These are her social media accounts. Please follow her on Twitter and boost her posts there too if you are able to:

On verification:

Fatima's gofundme has not yet been officially verified by anyone, but I have been talking with her for some time, and she definitely seems to be genuine. Her account shows none of the usual warning signs that an account is a scam. She has shared photos, which I used google Image Search for, and all that comes up is her own gofundme. Additionally, if you are still concerned, most gofundmes, including Fatima's, are donation protected, meaning that you can get your money back if anything does turn out to be a scam.

Tag your moots/friends, reblog her posts, and please donate if you can!!!!!!

499 notes · View notes

sl-vega · 3 months

Text

✮⋆｡ MEMORIES OF YOU

pairings: Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, x [FEM!] Reader

genre: fluff, oneshot(s), drabble/imagines, established relationship (for some), implied angst if you squint (?), first love, post-u 20 arc, canon compliant

synopsis: in which their friends stumble across photos of you, their first, and only love

CW/additional tags: mild language, potententially ooc, Google translated Spanish in sae's part, English = Japanese in this, might make more scenarios with other characters if people request it

ITOSHI SAE

Sae was slumped across the cushions of his couch as Shidou rummaged through some of his storage boxes.

The other boy had been rather insistent on coming over to his new appartement, and helping him properly move all his stuff into his new living space.

"So does this mean I can finally move in with you?~"

"Keep dreaming."

Shidou pouted, giving Sae uncharacteristically begging eyes, almost like a sad lost puppy, naturally he didn't fall for this and settled for returning his pathetic look with his signature cold glare.

He simply gave him a sickeningly sweet smile in return, and continued taking objects out of the boxes, among the possessions were a lamp, a few photo frames, and an album.

Ryusei's eyes widened in surprise as his eyes came into contact with the book.

"Oh, what do we have here?"

Shidou said with a slight lilt in his voice clearly intrigued. Sae lifted his head from his phone to see what Shidou was doing, surely if something of his managed to pique the interest of Shidou's filthy mind, it would probably be in his best interests to throw it out-

Is what Sae would've said before he spotted the photo album in the taller boy's hands, Shidou fingers gingerly opening the front cover.

Sae reacted before he could even think.

"Put it down."

His voice is cold and sharp, not threatening, more defensive-scared almost, if he was even capable of fear that is.

Shidou's eyes widened momentarily at Sae's reaction before his face shifted back to his usual shit eating grin.

"Why Itoshi? Got some dirty photos you don't want me seeing? I promise I won't tell y'know."

Sae rolled his eyes and grabbed the album out of the blonde's hands.

"They aren't dirty, for your information."

He paused, as he looked at the cover of the book, dust was collecting on it, and there were a few marker stains that he couldn't get off.

"I'd just rather forget about them..."

He muttered, as he gently stroked the spine of the book with his thumb.

"Why'd you keep it then? You seem awfully attached to it."

Shidou's voice dropped lower and took a momentarily more serious tone before switching back to his flamboyant and teasing demeanor.

"I'm kinda jealous of it~."

Sae rolled his eyes, more playfully this time. He opened the book-making a point to hide the rest of the pages from Shidou's view-and took out a single photograph and handed it to him.

It was a photo of Sae and you. He didn't talk about you much, but he maybe he should change that.

"You clearly won't stop bothering me about it."

He waved the piece of paper before Shidou prompty snatched it and eyed it carefully, his eyes widening.

It was a photo of the two of you by some beach in Spain, hands interlocked, and a rare smile on a younger Sae's face. You were wearing a white sundress with a hat as you ran across the shoreline, taking Sae right along with you as the two of you stumbled across the sand together.

He remembered that day crystal clear, you brought a Polaroid camera with you and you got one of the locals to take the photograph for you. You had forced him to take a break from constant training, and before he knew it. He was far from Madrid in that moment, just you, him, and the ocean.

Shidou's eyes flickered with a brief moment of sincerity, Sae looked genuinely happy in the photo.

"And here I thought I actually had a chance with you."

Sae blushed, yet another look that Shidou wasn't used to seeing on him.

"We aren't-She wasn't-"

He stuttered, unable to express the nature of his relationship with you. Sure he had thoughts, but he never acted on them, which he regretted.

"Aww, so Mr. Itoshi Sae had an unrequited crush back in Spain? How tragic."

Shidou teased as he fidgeted with the sides of the photograph still in his hand.

"It wasn't unrequited."

Sae replied, quicker than he should have.

Shidou quirked a brow in response.

"Care to elaborate?"

Sae sighed, memories of you flooding back into his brain. Repressed feelings that he had long since left for time to slowly erode, yet a single reminder brought them all back.

"We... ran into each other a lot back when I was still in Spain."

He trailed off, recalling when you first interacted.

Sae was around fifteen when he first met you, he was at a cafe in the city, when he was on an annoyingly mandated week long break, issued by the heads of Real Madrid themselves. It just happened to align with the holiday of your school, and the cafe was a pretty popular spot among the locals. It was crowded, with students and several other adults given the day off. From what Sae remembered, you didn't come with the intention of being with a friend, but rather to spend time alone, it was rather difficult though with how many people were currently in the cafe. So before he knew it, a stranger-albeit a very pretty one-had sat right next to him, drink in hand. You only realized you were sitting next to him after you had actually made yourself uncomfortable. "Oh, lo siento, ¿está bien si me siento aquí? Hay mucha gente aquí…" You seemed to have muttered a quick apology in Spanish, while he had lived here for the past two years, he was ashamed to admit that his fluency in this country's native tongue was rather rusty. He had mainly prioritized learning all the needed terminology for soccer and for any interviews, but he could tell that you were apologizing, and probably asked him if you could sit with him. He tried to muster together a coherent response "Está bien... no me importa...?" He trailed off, unsure if what he said was right, or if you could even understand him with his heavy Japanese accent. Your eyes blinked in surprise, maybe he completely butchered that without knowing. Then your eyes widened in surprise for a moment, almost as if you just pieced together something about him. "Ay dios mio! You're Itoshi Sae! I knew you looked familiar!" You responded, in Japanese this time, almost as if it was second nature to you. "You speak Japanese?" It was more of a statement rather than a question, he sounded impressed, it had been a long time since he's actually been able to converse with someone else in his own language. You nodded, eyes sparkling, still clearly hung up on his identity. "I took some classes online, sorry if I'm hard to understand." You weren't hard to understand at all, sure, it was tinged with a slight accent, but if anything that just added to your charm. "I'm (Y/N), huge fan." You extended your hand to him, a bright smile adorning your already beautiful face. He took your hand and shook it. "Sae." He responded, his usual nonchalant tone fading. "You already know that though..." Was he blushing? You giggled at his sudden bashfulness, your laughter was a sweet melodic sound, it was almost embarrassing of how much it affected him. "You know, I'd thought you'd be a lot colder in person, you're actually really sweet huh?" You laughed once more, and this time, Sae actually cracked a grin.

Sae finished his story to Shidou, his friend had listened intently.

"Aww, so you were whipped from the start?~"

Shidou teased, smirking at him.

"Care to share more? I'd love to learn more

He asked, a slightly playful lilt to his voice.

"If you score another hat trick next time I might just tell you."

Sae responded, his playful tone contrasting his nonchalant demeanor. Shidou smirked, clearly pleased by the offer.

"And will you let me move in?~"

"Maybe."

Sae smiled, gentle and hidden. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. After all, it would give him an excuse to talk about you once more.

"If you score another hat trick next time I might just tell you."

Shidou smirked, clearly pleased by the offer.

"And will you let me move in?~"

"Maybe."

Sae smiled, gentle and hidden. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. After all, it would give him an excuse to talk about you once more.

BONUS; TRANSLATIONS (potentially inaccurate)

"Oh, lo siento, ¿está bien si me siento aquí? Hay mucha gente aquí…"

╰┈➤ "Oh, I'm sorry, is it okay if I sit with you? It's super crowded in here..."

"Está bien... no me importa...?"

╰┈➤ "It's okay...I don't mind..?

"Ay dios mio!

╰┈➤ "Oh my God!"

ITOSHI RIN

"Bachira! I swear to God if Rin kills us because of this-"

"Lighten up Isagi! He's not gonna catch us."

It was a miracle that Rin had already agreed to Isagi and Bachira coming over to his place, though it was more because his mom was constantly nagging him about "needing more friends" or "being more social with the rest of the boys from Blue Lock"

Of course Bachira took this as an opportunity to snoop around Rin's room.

"If we find anything too private, we'll just put it right back and pretend we never saw it, simple as that."

Isagi sighed, bemoaning their current actions against their teammate's own personal life.

"You make it sound like Rin of all people would actually have something incriminating to hide."

Bachira shot him an unimpressed look.

"Are we talking about the same Rin? I'm like 90% sure the guy has some kind of criminal record, I wouldn't be surprised if he had a dead body hiding around in here somewhere..."

He continued looking around the room, glancing at crooks and small gaps in-between shelves as if some hidden treasure was stuck in them.

"Bachira you aren't going to find anything-"

Isagi was promptly cut off by Bachira, who in fact, found something.

A photograph taped to the side of Rin's closet, it seemed a little old, and dusty, but it looked well taken care of.

"Rin never striked me as the sentimental type..."

Bachira flipped the photo back and fourth in his hands before actually focusing on what the picture itself was holding.

Of course before he could actually view the photo himself, it was quickly snatched from him.

Rin was back, and he gave Bachira his signature cold glare, that probably translated into "One more wrong move and I'm throwing you off a cliff in your fucking sleep." or some worse same intentioned threat that Rin would probably use.

"What were the two of you doing?"

Rin asked in a condescending, accusing tone, and rightfully so.

"Rin, we're sorry-"

Isagi was about to apologize, but then Bachira fell to the floor, gripped the younger Itoshi's leg and wailed out a far more incoherent apology than his friend.

"I'm sorry Rin-chan! I promise I won't do it again!"

He was wailing at this point, a string of even more whiny apologies coming from him.

Rin shook Bachira off his leg and sighed.

"It's fine..."

He murmured as he trailed off, his attention completely stolen by the photograph he had just took back.

It was a picture of the two of you at the beach, he was around fourteen in this photo, it probably took place during the final months of his last year at middle school. The two of you had gone on a stroll by the ocean earlier before finding a resting spot nearby. You had pulled out a camera out of nowhere and snapped the photo almost without Rin notcing. You were flashing a big smile at the camera, while Rin's face was nuzzled into your neck, clearly camera shy. If you looked closely however, you could spot the blush slowly creeping up his cheeks.

Without noticing, Bachira had gotten a little too close for Rin's comfort. The older boy's head rested on his shoulder as he ogled the picture alongside him.

"Is she your girlfriend or somethin'?"

Rin shoved Bachira off his shoulder, the other boy laughed as he stumbled away.

"Shut up... she's just a friend."

"I dunno, the two of you look awfully cozy in that photo~"

If only you saw the others...

Rin had held on to the photo for longer than he would like to admit, the two of you hadn't talked for a while, especially after graduation.

But now that his annoying lukewarm teammates had decided to scour around his room for no reason, Rin was met with a wave of memories.

All of which were about you.

The most prominent memory he had of you was the day of middle school graduation.

The cherry blossoms were in bloom, and the third years were about to assemble in the auditorium for the farewell ceremony. Several of Rin's classmates were gushing about graduation, and how they would miss each other, some were already planning methods of communication after moving on to high school. Another hot topic of conversation among his classmates (mainly the girls) was the topic of button giving. In Japan, a guy giving the second button of his uniform to a girl on the day of graduation was essentially a love confession, Rin thought that the tradition was rather stupid. For one thing, he had no time for romance when he was trying to become the best in the world, nor did he have any interest in the subject. Or as he would say 'everyone here is way too lukewarm for my tastes' Well, that's what he would have said if he wasn't so preoccupied with you, but here he was, just outside of the auditorium, fidgeting with his uniform trying to get a button off. Normally the girl would have to ask the guy for the button, but Rin was never one for tradition-then again he was already going along with this stupid love confession so there was a first time for everything-and it didn't look like you were going to talk to him anytime soon, you were constantly hanging around with your friends for most of the day, so he never found the right time. So he didn't know what came over him when he dragged you aside in some secluded area of the courtyard, all his courage had been used up in that very moment because of that moment, he had been reduced to a blushing and bashful mess. "What did you need me for RIn?" You asked with curious doe eyes, clearly oblivious to the fact that there was a button missing from his uniform. Rin gave you a blank stare for a few minutes, taking in your appearance. Your hair was adorned with several hair pins, all engraved with special patterns and decorated with pretty charms. You were wearing make up today, not super noticeable, but noticeable enough for it to enhance your natural beauty. "Rin?" You called his name, snapping him out of his thoughts. Oh right, he was supposed to give you the buttton "Can I have your hand for a second..?" He asked bashfully, you extended your hand to his, this time, you were blushing as well. You muttered a quick 'sure' as you avoided eye contact with him. He gently dropped the button into your hands. "I-I wanted you to have this." This time, Rin was looking directly into your eyes, the same cold teal that always seemed to have no light behind them, but this time, they were filled with warmth and sincerity. The two of you stood in silence for a few more moments, before you heard the teachers calling you and the rest of the third years over for the ceremony. As Rin walked into the auditorium with the rest of his classmates, one of his teammates from the soccer team leaned down and whispered something in his ear. "So who's the lucky lady Itoshi?" He turned to his friend, noticing that his button was missing too. Rin simply shrugged, feigning nonchalance and muttered; "Wouldn't you like to know?" That graduation photo captured a very rare smile from him.

Bachira accidentally knocking something over promptly snapped Rin out of his nostalgia.

"Oh my God you're actually smiling in this photo?!"

Bachira waved Rin's middle school grad photo in his face, clearly shocked by the notion that the younger Itoshi could actually feel happiness.

Suddenly, Rin's mother came into his room.

"I know, it's one of the few photos I have of him that actually feature him smiling."

She sighed.

"Anyways, I just made dinner in case you boys are hungry."

Mrs. Itoshi smiled at the boys.

"And maybe you could tell them all about (Y/N) hm?"

Rin's face grew very hot all of a sudden.

God, he was in for it now...

637 notes · View notes

81folklore · 1 year

Text

dress - SV5 - part 2

pairings: sebastian vettel x famous!reader (fc: taylor swift)

summary: its known that seb has been married for a few years now despite the public never seeing is wife, its also known that yn is in a committed relationship and has been since she disappeared from public eye. maybe they are more connected than people realise

authors note: part two because i didnt realise how long it had gotten but im allergic to actually writing.. also i apologize for the first part literally just being build-up.. i honestly didnt know about the 30 pic limit so...

authors note 2: i used google translate for the german so i hope its correct, also i dont know if petnames like darling or sunshine are used in germany but i had to use them

authors note 3: i actually hate how this turned out :/ but it was very hard to actually get my thoughts onto the page so this will do! this is part 2 so go read part 1 first!!

part 1 part 3 masterlist

ynupdates

liked by user5, user77, olliebearman and 45,920 others

YN IN THE F1 PADDOCK TODAY, I REPEAT YN IN THE PADDOCK

view comments

user77: sorry i dont follow f1, i thought the races were on sundays?

user5: dont be sorry! today is qualifying and tomorrow is the race!

user5: SHES THERE I CANT STAY CALM

user91: does anyone know who she was with in those photos of her by the track?

user5: sebastian vettel and mick schumacher!

user6: SHE WAS WATCHING QUALIFYING WITH SEB AND MICK?? SEB VETTEL?? AND MICK SCHUMACHER?? OH LORDDD

user12: i thought i would survive.. i lied

ynupdates

liked by user5, user20, user99 and 101,782 others

seems like yn is with redbull at todays race looking as gorgous as ever!

view comments

user5: OH OH OH OH

user5: SHE IS STUNING HOLY

user20: her style recently has been AMAZING

user68: out of every team i think redbull would have been one of my last guesses

user6: THE WAY SHE IS WITH REDBULL AND SPENT QUALIFYING WITH REDBULLS GOLDEN BOY OH I FEEL SICK

user99: i love her so much

user42: at least her team will win

user591: IS SHE WEARING A WEDDING RING??

user618: i think so?? honestly i wouldnt be surprised shes very private and has been with her partner for almost 8 years so no wonder he popped the question

user90: i need her to be at every gp

ynupdates

liked by charles_leclerc, user55, user81 and 234,891 others

yn on stage performing dress during the post-race concert at suzuka! as far as we know it was a complete surprise, she came on to sing dress then left. this is her second time performing it to a live audience!

view comments

user81: WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO HEAR DRESS LIVE

user5: charles and seb were both spotted watching her from the side of the stage!

user81: charles taking seb to see his favorite artist..what if i cried

user55: i cant believe i lost dress twice without even knowing i could lose it😭

user8: i hope she had so much fun, ive missed her doing stuff like this :’)

user12: apparently she was laughing and looking off stage at someone throughout, possibly her partner?

user1: SHE AWLAYS LOOKS SO GOOD

user13: so much content this weekend..im going to have major withdrawls

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, mickschumacher and 13,712,847 others

four years ago i was given the pleasure of marrying my best friend

i am unable to really put into words how much meeting you and getting to spend the rest of my life with you has changed my life seb, but i tell you i love you enough daily that i hope you understand

when we first met i had no idea how much you would impact me and the way i think, but you have helped me become the woman i am today and i am forever grateful for that

i often feel unworthy of the life you have given me, the life we have together. i wonder how i got to be the one you love and cherish and i know how lucky i am to be the one you spend your life with

you gave me your heart and i promise to look after it for as long as im here, i promise to keep it safe and i know you will look after mine

danke, dass du mich liebst, danke, dass du dich um mich kümmerst. (thank you for loving me, thank you for taking care of me) Ich verspreche, dich bis zu meinem letzten Atemzug zu lieben. (I promise to love you until my last breath) Ich werde nie aufhören, dich zu lieben, Mein Sonnenschein. (I will never stop loving you, my sunshine)

tagged: sebastianvettel

comments on this post have been limited

sebastianvettel: Danke, dass du dein Herz geöffnet hast und mich dich lieben lässt, mein Schatz (Thank you for opening your heart and letting me love you, my darling)

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 8,728,712 others

I won the most important race. It was the race into the heart of the love of my life, yn. I love you.

view comments

yourusername: 🩵🩵🩵

user5: I CANT DO THIS STOP

user12: hes so sweet :(

user18: ive known about them for a total of 2 minutes but i love them already🫡

user6: dress was written about him…

user71: i feel ill wehn will i get posted like this

sebastianvettel

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, landonorris and 10,120,859 others

the sunshine of my life

view comments

yourusername: i love you so much

lewishamilton: very happy for you mate!

user13: THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH OH MY GOD😭😭

landonorris: 🥹🥹

user82: DRESS WAS WRITTEN BY HER FOR HIM AND HE WAS PROUD OF IT OH LORD

user5: literally my favorite people in the entire universe🫶

user19: still in shock that theyve been married for four years

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel #★ famous seb #f1 insta au

2K notes · View notes

hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year

Text

the right wrong number

pairing: pre/no outbreak!joel miller x soccer coach!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6k

summary:

When Joel receives a dirty text from an unknown number, he gives into his curiosity and messages back.

He doesn’t expect the number to belong to his daughter’s summer camp soccer coach.

dear reader:

this work is a request and a birthday gift for my sweet baby @mydailyhyperfixations , who’s been one of my biggest supporters since i started posting my work on tumblr. ily, and i hope you love the fic! special thanks to @cutesyscreenname for helping me with some lil details to finish this surprise. support and mdni banners by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (undefined, but references are made), pre/no outbreak!joel miller, identity porn, wrong number au, sexting, dom/sub dynamics, use of ‘sir’, pet names, praise, thigh riding, semi-public sexual activity, spanking, safe word discussion, dirty talk, p in v. let me know if i’ve missed any!

Unknown Number: I had a really good time at dinner tonight!

Joel stares at his phone in confusion. It’s past midnight and he’s been sitting on the couch nursing a beer and watching Indiana Jones. He’s been in the same spot since Sarah went to bed a couple hours ago. His phone beeps again.

Unknown Number: It’s too bad we didn’t have time to visit Noir.

Joel raises his eyebrows. Noir is a bar in downtown Austin known for its calendar of speciality kink events. He’s seen it come up in his Google searches of local bars and had considered going to an event or two but never worked up the courage. His kinks remain between him and his porn search history.

Unknown Number: Wanna see what you missed out on?

[Photo 01.jpg]

Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the image attachment. He nearly drops his phone when a photo of a woman fills his screen, sweet curves hugged by black lace on white sheets. He should absolutely tell her that she has the wrong number. His fingers type across the screen.

Damn, seems a shame something that gorgeous is going to waste.

Unknown Number: Who says it has to go to waste?

Joel swallows nervously. He’s already hard in his jeans, cock pressing urgently against his pants. He palms himself, trying to collect his thoughts.

Unknown Number: I’m feeling a little needy over here.

[Photo 02.jpg]

Against his better judgment, Joel opens the second photo and has to bite back a groan at the image of the woman’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of the panties, fingers hidden from sight behind lace and silk.

You want me to tell you how to play with that pretty pussy?

Joel squeezes his eyes shut as he presses send. This is a colossally stupid idea. This is a stranger, and he’s not the intended recipient of these messages.

Unknown Number: I’d really like that, sir.

Fuck it, Joel thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Start by circling those fingers over your clit. Nice and slow.

And when you feel like you could cum, I want you to go even slower.

Unknown Number: It’s too slow. I want more.

Be patient, baby. And aren’t you forgetting something?

Unknown Number: Sorry. I want more, SIR.

Joel presses a hand to the bulge in his jeans, the pressure offering little relief.

Now don’t start being a brat, sweetheart. You won’t like the result.

Unknown Number: Oh yeah? What would you even do?

I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the edge of the bed, ass ready to be spanked red.

Unknown Number: Fuck, that would feel so good. Bet your hands would feel amazing marking me up.

You still being a good girl and following my instructions?

Unknown Number: I think I forgot. Could you remind me, sir?

You’ll have to ask more nicely than that.

Unknown Number: Could you *please* remind me, sir?

Joel runs a hand over his beard before reaching for the forgotten beer on the coffee table and taking a swig.

You’re supposed to be teasing yourself for me. Nice and slow.

I want you to pinch your nipples until they’re nice and tight, too.

Unknown Number: Like this?

[Photo 03.jpg]

Joel bites his lip as he opens the third photo. You’ve got your bra pulled down to expose your nipples, hard and perfect and begging for his mouth. He unbuttons his jeans, tossing his phone on the couch only long enough to shimmy the denim down his thighs and free his leaking cock.

Just like that, baby. Such a good girl for me.

Unknown Number: Are you touching yourself, too, sir?

Of course I am, baby.

Unknown Number: Can I see, sir? Please?

Joel’s hand falters as alarm bells blare in his head. He should absolutely not open his camera. And he should definitely not find the perfect angle that doesn’t show his face. And he certainly should not grip his cock around the base, holding it steady as the shutter sounds and a new photo is saved to his camera roll.

No. He shouldn’t do any of that.

[Photo 04.jpg]

Unknown Number: God, your cock would feel so good in me right now.

Joel’s right hand moves at a steady pace up and down his length, left hand fumbling to type a reply.

Why don’t you fuck your little fingers and pretend it’s me, then?

Unknown Number: Won’t fill me up nearly as much, sir.

Be a good girl and follow my directions, baby.

Unknown Number: [Photo 05.jpg]

He opens the photo and his cock pulses in his fist. She has her underwear shoved to the side, two fingers plunged into her glistening pussy. His mind reels with an image of this faceless woman writhing on the bed reading his words, thinking about his cock stretching her open and he has to bite his lip to just keep the responding moan trapped in his throat.

Unknown Number: Can I cum, sir? Please?

Since you asked so nicely, yes. Make yourself cum for me, sweetheart.

Joel sets the phone aside on the couch, closing his eyes as he pumps himself with a tight fist while he imagines your desperate pussy clenching around your fingers. He cups his palm over the head of his cock as his release hits him like a freight train, hips flexing from the couch to chase the lingering sensations of ecstasy from his hand.

He stands, pulling his pants up without bothering to fasten them so that he can wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Guilt settles on his shoulders as he dries his hands with the dish towel while he stares at the couch where his phone is lit up with another message from a stranger he had no business seeing that much of.

He approaches the couch and sits with a sigh, running a hand over his face before picking his phone up to read her message:

Unknown Number: Easily my best orgasm. Hope it was for you, too. Don’t be a stranger xx

Feeling like an asshole, Joel deletes the thread and the wrong number for good, but it’s fine.

It’s not like he’ll ever meet her, anyways.

——————

You’re on the phone with your best friend, telling her about how the last guy you went out with about a week ago, a guy named Jeremy you met on a dating app, still hasn’t reached out to you again despite what you’d thought was a successful date.

“So he just never reached out to you after you sexted him all night?” She asks. “Men are so weird.”

You cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder as you zip up your duffel bag of equipment. It’s the beginning of June and the summer soccer intensive camp for junior league starts today. You’ve got a full registration for the girl’s 13-15 division and you’re excited to get back on the field and help these girls do their best in a sport you love.

“Nope. Maybe I came on too strong? I don’t know,” you reply.

“You did come strongly. At least, that’s what you told me,” she says with a laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll meet a hot dad coaching this year.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking someone’s dad.”

“Never say never, babe.”

“I gotta go find my damn cleats. I’ll talk to you later,” you tell her.

“Fine, I expect a full run down of every DILF you meet today.”

You hang up as she laughs, tossing your phone into your personal bag that you keep separate from the gear before you go in search of your cleats from your room.

——————

Joel and an over-excited Sarah sit in the parking lot of the soccer field that her summer camp is being conducted at, ridiculously early at Sarah’s insistence because she didn’t want to be late on the first day. They’re the only car in the parking lot so far, having apparently beat even the coach, and Joel sips at his travel mug of coffee in the hopes that it grants him energy.

Another car pulls up and parks beside his truck, loud music blaring from the open window. Sarah waves excitedly.

“That’s the coach,” she explains.

Joel watches you get out of your car and pop the trunk. You start pulling out bags of soccer balls and stacks of orange cones, bags of agility equipment and strength training aids. He opens the door to his truck and jogs over.

“Hey, you need any help with that?” He asks. You look over at him in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great,” you reply.

“I’m Joel Miller, and this is my daughter, Sarah,” he says, gesturing to the young girl. She gives a little wave and he extends a hand out to you.

You give him your name, shaking his outstretched hand. “Y’all are a little early,” you reply, hefting a bag over your shoulder.

“My dad’s always late but I didn’t want to be late for camp,” Sarah says. Joel narrows his eyes at her.

“Not a problem. You can help me set up the cones,” you tell her. His daughter gives you a bright smile and he almost forgives her for throwing him under the bus. “I’ll grab these two bags, you grab the cones, and Mr. Miller, could you grab the balls, please?”

Joel fights back his childish laughter at your request, grabbing the bags as instructed. “Just Joel, please.”

You smile at him and he feels a bit blindsided by how it makes his heart beat faster, his palms a little sweatier. You’re very pretty, fresh faced and ready for a day of work, wearing one of those quick dry workout shirts that clings to your curves and a pair of shorts that show off your strong legs. Some traitorous part of his brain wonders what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Alright then, Just Joel. Let’s go.”

——————

“Thank you for the help,” you tell Sarah’s dad. You’re trying very hard not to let your eyes linger on the bulge of his biceps or the broad expanse of his back as he sets down the two bags of soccer balls and places his hands on his hips.

He’s a handsome man, older than you by at least a few years, with tan skin and dark hair and kind brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at something Sarah says. His daughter has the same brown eyes and olive skin, her dark curly hair pulled into a bun.

Of course the first parent you meet this summer is a hot dad. It’s like you’ve spoken it into the universe.

“Not a problem. Glad I can be useful if I’m goin’ to be here this early,” he replies with a narrowed glance at Sarah, who is suddenly very interested in the stack of cones she carried to the field. “Anythin’ else you need me for?”

“Let me get you the game schedule and contact sheet.” You open your bag and pull out your folder of materials you like to give to parents, assembling a stack of papers for him. “On top you’ve got the emergency contacts sheet. Fill that out with your contact information and an alternate’s information, too, just in case I can’t reach you or someone else needs to pick Sarah up. You’ll want to have Sarah bring that back tomorrow.”

You flip the page. “The second page is just a welcome letter. It’s got my phone number on it, feel free to text or call if you have any questions or if Sarah can’t make it one day.”

“And then last we’ve got the camp schedule. The girls will have two tournament days where they’ll play against some nearby summer camp leagues. You can sign up to bring a snack by filling out the piece at the bottom. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t suppose I do. You’re very organized,” he says, taking the packet from you. You can feel your cheeks heating.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Well, I gotta finish setting up.”

“I won’t get in your way.” He calls out to Sarah and the young girl runs up to give him a hug goodbye. “Be good. I’ll see you later.”

——————

Joel Miller is the first at the field in the mornings helping you set up for the day and last parent to leave at pick-up, after he’s loaded your trunk up with the equipment, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grins at you.

His daughter is a great player, quick on her feet and smart as a whip, picking up the footwork skills you teach like they’re second nature. You’re telling Joel as much Friday afternoon in the second week of camp when Sarah bounds up and asks if you want to get ice cream with them.

“That’s a great idea, baby girl,” Joel says before you can decline. You blink at him and he gives you that lopsided grin that’s been giving you butterflies since the first day on the field. “But if you order mint chocolate chip, you’re buyin’ it yourself.”

“Good news, I’m a plain ol’ chocolate kinda gal,” you tell him with a laugh.

“Me, too!” Sarah says.

“I’ll follow you guys,” you suggest. Joel gives you a quick nod, herding Sarah into his truck and taking off toward town.

You follow them to a little ice cream parlor, the kind that sells old fashioned sundaes and thick milkshakes with red and white striped straws. You park beside them, watching as Sarah hops from the truck with a wide grin on her face and her dad comes around, slinging a strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. Your heart feels warm looking at them.

Once inside, Joel and Sarah end up ordering a sundae to split while you get a small cone of chocolate ice cream. You try to tell Joel not to pay for you, but he hits you with a look that has your mouth going dry, any argument disappearing as all your blood rushes south and makes you ache between your legs.

“I’ll go get us a table outside,” you offer, licking at your treat. You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes track the path of your tongue.

You watch the busy foot traffic while you wait for the Millers to join you, the warm Texas air wrapped around you while you enjoy the slight breeze and your cold dessert.

A deep voice calls your name and you look around, finding a familiar face on the crowded sidewalk.

“Jeremy, hey. How are you?” You ask as the man approaches. It feels like forever ago that you went to dinner together and looking at him now you think he’s handsome but he doesn’t hold a candle to Joel.

“I’m good. Been busy. I gotta say, I was a little bummed I didn’t hear from you after our date. Thought we had a good time,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t…hear from me?” You ask nervously.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. Thought you said you would text me when you got home.”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I guess I just forgot.”

The bell dings above the door to the ice cream parlor, Joel and Sarah emerging with a sundae piled with whipped cream. Jeremy looks toward them, then back at you.

“I’m guessing another date is off the table?” He asks, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

Joel looks between the two of you, brow furrowed as he sets the sundae on the metal table and Sarah takes a seat, digging in immediately.

“Jeremy, this is Joel and his daughter, Sarah. She’s in my soccer camp this summer. Joel, this is my friend Jeremy,” you introduce. Jeremy holds a hand out to Joel, who shakes it briefly, brows still pinched.

“I better get going. Nice seeing you, let me know if you want to get together again,” Jeremy says before turning to leave. When you glance at Joel, his shoulders are drawn up and jaw clenched tight as he stabs his spoon into his ice cream.

“What do you guys have planned this weekend?” You ask to break the silence. Sarah perks up and begins to tell you about how her Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother, is taking her to a local carnival. You listen and nod along despite the fact that your thoughts are stuck on Jeremy’s words.

If it wasn’t Jeremy on the other end of your conversation that night…who was it?

——————

As the three of you walk back to your vehicles, Joel’s still thinking about that man who’d been talking to you at the ice cream shop and how it made his blood burn hot to hear him mention going on a date with you. His pulse pounded in his ears as he shook the guy’s hand, any information about the guy going right over his head. He didn’t even taste the ice cream or hear the conversation you and Sarah had about the weekend, lost in his thoughts about how between early mornings helping you prep for camp and late afternoons at pick up have all somehow allowed you to burrow into his heart.

A hand wraps around his bicep, halting him in his steps. He glances at your concerned face and suddenly all that tension leaves him in a rush. Sarah says her goodbye, hugging you around your waist before hopping into the truck, leaving the two of you alone.

“You okay?” You ask, taking a step closer.

“I’m great, sweetheart. Get home safe,” he says, eyes dipping briefly to your mouth. Your tongue pokes out, tracing your lower lip. He takes a step back before he’s tempted to lean in and chase the taste of chocolate and you.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Bright and early.”

——————

Sarah spikes a fever Sunday night and spends the night curled around the toilet while Joel coaxes some water into her and keeps her hair out of harm's way. When it seems that the worst of her nausea has passed, Joel leaves her to rest in her bed while he goes downstairs and grabs the contact list you’d given him at the beginning of camp.

He starts a text, letting you know that Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp, at least for today. When it’s sent, he heads back upstairs, armed with a sleeve of crackers to deliver to his daughter.

Maybe he can squeeze in a little bit of sleep for himself.

——————

Hey, it’s Joel. Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp today.

You stare at the text, mind reeling. Not because a parent is texting you, that’s pretty common and you hope Sarah is doing okay, but because you already have a thread with Joel.

One where you’d called him sir and told him his cock would feel so good inside of you because you’d thought you’d been texting Jeremy. Your cheeks feel so hot you worry spontaneous human combustion could actually be a thing.

What are you even supposed to do in this situation? Do you tell him about it?

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Oh, also, you’ve sent me a picture of your dick.

You delete the last line immediately, hitting your phone against your forehead like doing so might make your thoughts make sense.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Any chance you can make good on that promise and bend me over the bed?

You delete the last line again with a groan.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Would you be able to meet with me after practice this week? Or sometime this weekend?

You hit send before you can back out, tossing your phone in your bag as you get ready to head out the door.

——————

Joel wakes later in the morning and reads your text message. His mind races with what you could want to talk to him about. Maybe you noticed how he reacted to your friend and wanted to tell him you’re uncomfortable? Or maybe something to do with Sarah?

Fuck, he thinks, scrubbing a hand over his face. He reads the message a few more times but it doesn’t reveal any additional clues. He types out a message, pressing send before he can overthink the contents.

She seems to be doing better. Should be back to camp tomorrow. I can meet you somewhere for dinner on Friday after camp? My treat.

——————

Joel’s text plays on a loop in your brain for the rest of the week. Unlike the previous weeks of camp, he and Sarah don’t show up early. In fact, he’s been dropping her off almost at the last minute and picking her up promptly when camp ends, always managing to show up when you’re already pulled into conversation with another parent and driving off before you have a chance to talk with him.

On Friday, Joel is at the field early, leaning against his truck as he talks to Sarah. You park beside them, and he helps you unload your car and set up for the day, just as he had the weeks prior, making small talk like he hadn’t just spent the week dodging you after suggesting dinner. When everything is unpacked and Sarah is kicking a ball around, you follow Joel to his truck under the guise of needing one more thing from your car.

“Hey, are we still on for dinner?” You ask him. He runs a hand through his hair and you try not to let yourself zero in on the way his bicep flexes with the motion.

“‘Course. How ‘bout I meet you at that diner downtown? The one with the—“

“All day breakfast?” You finish. Joel grins.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Is six good?”

“Six is great.” You smile back at him, lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners and his mouth lifts slightly higher on the right.

“Coach!” Sarah yells, making you jump.

“Guess I better get out there,” you say, shifting nervously.

“Yeah, I’ll uh…I’ll see you later?” He asks.

“Looking forward to it.”

——————

To your surprise, it’s not Joel that picks up Sarah that afternoon, but another man with familiar brown eyes and dark curly hair. You grab your folder from your bag as Sarah greets the man, flipping through the pages until you’ve found her emergency contact form.

“Hey there,” the man says, a grin lighting up his face. “I’m Sarah’s Uncle Tommy.”

You shake the hand he’s held out towards you and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. Mind if I check your ID for alternate pick up?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, pulling a worn brown leather wallet from his jeans and handing you his ID from its contents. “Don’t judge the photo, alright? It’s old.”

A younger version of the man in front of you is pictured on the card, his curly dark hair buzzed short and a grim expression on his face. You note the name THOMAS MILLER beside the picture and check it against Sarah’s emergency contact form.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you tell him, handing back the ID. There’s a brief silence where Tommy seems to be assessing you.

“So…,” he says, rocking on his heels, “you’re the girl that’s got Joel all tangled up, huh?”

You blink. “Uh—“

“Uncle Tommy! Let’s go!” Sarah shouts from the parking lot.

“Hold your horses!” Tommy yells. He gives you one last knowing smirk. “Have fun with Joel tonight!”

You watch him jog over to the truck and get behind the wheel, Sarah waving at you as he pulls out of the parking spot. You wave back, but your mind is stuck on Tommy’s words, the implication of them having your stomach doing backflips.

——————

Joel’s fingers fidget with the straw wrapper, ripping it into small pieces that build in a pile on the laminate table while he waits for you to arrive for dinner. He’s still not sure what this is all about and that uncertainty has had him stuck in his head to the point where Tommy was giving him a hard time at work about it.

“Let me know if you need me to stay with Sarah overnight,” Tommy had said as Joel checked himself in the hall mirror one last time before leaving the house.

“It ain’t like that,” he grumbled back, but there was no changing his brother’s mind.

“Sure, you keep tellin’ yourself that.”

The bell above the diner door rings with a new customer, pulling Joel from his thoughts. You’ve just walked in wearing a dress, a far cry from the soccer shorts and t-shirt he’s seen you in every day this summer. His gaze is pulled to the tantalizing glimpse of your chest he gets from the deep neckline and the way the fabric swishes against your thighs as you approach.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure,” Joel says, giving you what he hopes is a confident smile but he’s almost certain it’s more of a grimace.

A silence settles over the table as you both look at the laminated menus like they hold the secret to the universe. The waitress swings by and takes your orders - chocolate chip waffles for you and a medium rare burger for Joel.

“How’s Sarah doing with the camp?” Joel asks.

“She’s doing great. Easily one of the best players I’ve got this year,” you reply.

“Good that’s…good. You used to play for UT, right?”

“Yep, starting forward until I tore my ACL,” you tell him. “Now I coach because you can take the girl out of soccer but you can’t take the soccer from the girl.”

“That’s impressive,” Joel comments. “Is coaching your full time job?”

“No, I work in marketing for an instrument production company.”

“Really? You play anything?”

“Some guitar, a little piano. Nothing crazy. Do you?”

Joel laughs. “Been a while, but I got a guitar stashed away in a closet somewhere.”

The waitress returns with your food, setting the plates in front of you and asking if either of you need anything else before leaving the two of you to your meals.

Joel is a few bites into his burger when you set your fork down and say, “Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. You’ve sent me a picture of your dick.”

Joel nearly chokes, sputtering for air around his burger and grabbing his Coke, desperate for relief. He chugs the beverage, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask, wide eyes full of concern.

“No, I’m not okay, what do you mean I’ve sent you a picture of my dick?” He hisses, looking around the mostly empty diner.

“About a month ago I went on a date with that guy I ran into at the ice cream place, Jeremy? We met on a dating app so we were messaging through there and he gave me his number at the end of the night,” you say quickly. “And I texted the number with some…racy photos. And messages.”

Joel feels the rising panic in his chest. No, there’s absolutely no way that random number could have been you. There’s no way he sexted his daughter’s soccer coach.

“I didn’t find out it was you until you texted me about Sarah being sick. I still had the chat with your number,” you finish, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. Joel watches with building dread as you tap on the screen and set the phone on the table, sliding it toward him.

You’ve opened the chat with him, the innocuous messages at the bottom about Sarah missing camp giving way to photo attachments he doesn’t dare click on but remembers vividly. He looks up at you.

“I…I’m so sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have replied, the messages weren’t meant for me.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure him. “A little embarrassed, maybe. But also…can I be completely honest?”

“Of course.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your messages.”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise. “You…really?”

“Yeah. And knowing it’s you…,” you say, voice trailing off. Your eyes are dark, a little smirk playing on your lips that has Joel’s cock twitching with interest. “Well, that makes it better.”

“It does?” Joel asks. You nod, picking up a bite of waffle with your fork, a moan of appreciation leaving your lips.

“It does,” you confirm.

Joel turns around in the booth and flags down the waitress.

“Check, please!”

——————

After paying for dinner, Joel walks you to the parking lot, his broad palm on your low back directing you to where his truck is parked.

He’s got you pressed against the passenger door, his chest grazing yours with each breath he takes. He lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. His gaze grows dark as you dart your tongue out, flicking it against the digit.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he says. Gone is the man who was mortified to find out he’d been sexting you and in his place is the man behind the screen. “You wore this little dress because you knew exactly what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

“Maybe,” you murmur. “You don’t like it?”

“Mm,” he hums, “Ain’t a matter of not likin’ it, trust me.”

His hands grip your hips, the fabric bunching in his fists as he moves a thigh between your legs. The sudden friction of his jeans, even through the barrier of your underwear, has you gasping.

“Joel,” you whimper, grinding over the muscle of his thigh. He kisses along the length of your neck, lips right over your racing pulse. “Come on, take me home.”

“You can ask more nicely than that,” he says, hands guiding the movement of your hips, forward and back, across his thigh. You moan, louder than you intended, too loud for the parking lot of a busy diner at dinner rush.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please, take me home.”

“Cum on my thigh and we can leave,” he replies. “Leave a nice little wet spot on my jeans and then I’ll take you home and make you scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Joel’s lips capture your own, swallowing the curse that was ready to spill from them at his demand. His kiss is rough, demanding, his stubble scratching your skin and his tongue tangling with yours as your hips continue to rock over his leg. You dig your fingers into his hair, holding tightly to him while the knot of need in your belly tightens.

“Come on, baby,” he says when he lifts his head, lips still pressed to your neck. “Make a mess, come on.”

You go still in his hands as your orgasm washes over you, your muscles stiff as your pussy pulses desperately over his thigh. Joel pulls you in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet to bring you back to reality.

When you’ve caught your breath, he steps back, adjusting the skirt of your dress back over your thighs. He looks down at his pants and then back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. You look down, face heating with embarrassment as you notice the dark patch of denim.

“Get in the truck, baby.”

——————

You give Joel directions to your apartment, his warm hand on your thigh the whole way there. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your skin again, the effect of your first orgasm wearing off and your desire building rapidly with each mile closer to your apartment.

He parks in the visitor parking and you move to open the door, but a tan arm reaches across and tugs it shut. Confused, you watch Joel jump from the truck and jog around to the passenger side to pull open your door and hold a hand out to you.

You’re laughing as he helps you from the truck and shuts the door behind you, your giggles persisting as you lead him upstairs and his arms circle your waist while you try to unlock your door. He hustles you across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him and flipping the deadbolt.

“Bedroom?” He asks.

“End of the hall,” you reply.

Joel pulls you along behind him, a man on a mission. Once inside your room, you flip on your bedside lamp and Joel steps in close, framing your face in his hands and giving you another kiss that has the butterflies in your tummy going wild.

His fingers are curling into the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body and breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His lips are back on yours while his hands map your curves, calloused fingers catching on soft skin and making goosebumps erupt in their wake.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You turn, crawling onto the mattress slowly, a wiggle in your hips. You look over your shoulder at the older man and find his gaze fixed on your ass. He grins. “You remember what I said last time you teased me?”

“No. I think I need a reminder,” you tell him. He huffs, shaking his head.

“Teasin’ me and gettin’ mouthy? Think that might earn you a punishment.”

Joel palms the cheeks of your ass, pulling them apart in a rough grip that has you gasping his name. His fingers dig into the flesh, the ache of them already making your head spin.

“Five ain’t enough, but it’s all I’ve got the patience for right now,” he says. His tone changes as he asks, “You got a safe word? If I need to stop?”

“Apricots,” you say easily. He tilts his head. “It’s from a TV show. New Girl?”

“Never heard of it,” he says. “Alright, apricots it is.”

He pulls your panties down, leaving them around your thighs. His thumbs spread you apart and the vulnerability of this position, your ass in the air and everything spread for him, by him, has you feeling like you’re on fire.

“Pretty little pussy,” he murmurs. “But I already knew that. Because you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl who sent me pictures just because I told you how to cum. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhm.”

An open palm lands on your right ass cheek, hear blossoming on the spot as you gasp, lurching forward. His hands pull you towards him and he presses down between your shoulder blades, your back arching.

“Don’t move,” he commands. “That was one. You count the next one.”

Another smack across your other cheek, more sharp pain that shifts into dull ache as you mumble, “Two.”

He doles out two more in quick succession, each other making your pussy clench with need. You’re drooling into sheets, a whimpering mess as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds and lets out a deep groan.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he says. “Fuck, one more, okay? One more and then I’ll have you wrapped around my cock.”

You nod your head, bracing for the final blow across your sensitive skin. The sting of his palm as it lands makes your eyes roll back, the line between pleasure and pain so blurry you don’t know which side you stand on.

His hands leave your hips and without the support, you slide flat to your belly. Distantly, you register the opening of your nightstand drawer and the sound of Joel rummaging through the contents, followed by the muted thump of clothes being discarded to the floor.

Joel maneuvers you to your back in the center of the bed, pulling your panties off. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises. You smile at him.

“Do I get a reward now, sir?” You ask.

“‘Course, baby. Good girls get what they deserve.”

His hips press between yours, his cock sliding through your wetness and catching on your clit. He positions the thick head at your slick entrance, pressing in the slightest bit. You take in the sight of him, his broad chest held over you by strong arms, the muscles of his neck tense.

Joel slides in slowly, your body accepting him gratefully. The stretch borders on painful but the fullness has you digging your nails into his back, a moan falling from your lips. It feels like ages before his hips as flush to yours and all you can feel is Joel Joel Joel.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. “Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He pulls back slightly, thrusting forward with a sharp snap of his hips. As he starts to set a rhythm, he sits up on his knees, lifting one of your legs up with a hand on the back of your thigh and pressing it to the side. The position opens you up further, letting him get impossibly deeper, and all you can do is allow him to use your body to his liking.

It’s not long before you’re screaming his name, as promised, the knot of pleasure in your core pulling tight and getting ready to snap.

“You gonna cum again for me?” Joel asks, breathing labored as his pace doesn’t falter. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock. You’re such a good fuckin’ girl, I know you can do it.”

“Joel!” You shout, that last thread snapping as your orgasm rushing through you, stars bursting behind your eyelids as they snap shut with the force of it all. Your pussy clenches around him, his hips stuttering and growing sloppy until he’s pressing in deep with a groan of your name.

He collapses on top of you, a heavy weight but not an unwelcome one as you both try to catch your breath, sweat cooling between you. After a moment, his softening cock slips from your body and he rolls to the side, gathering you to his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel whispers back. He sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed and grabbing his jeans, pulling his phone free.

He taps on the screen and brings it to his ear, a distant ringing audible through the speaker.

“Tommy? Yeah, everythin’s fine,” Joel says when his call connects. He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you stay with Sarah tonight? Shut up,” he grumbles. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back in the mornin’. Thanks, brother.”

Joel hangs up and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You’re staying?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby. I ain’t finished with you yet,” he replies, pressing a flurry of kisses to your face, neck, and shoulders, sending you into a fit of giggles.

——————

1 Year Later

“Alright, great job, girls! Let’s get your snacks,” you shout as your summer league girls jog towards you from the field following their third tournament game.

The girls crowd around the cooler that Joel’s prepared, grabbing small bottles of Gatorade or water and a bag of orange slices. They lounge around the sidelines and you step up beside Joel, bumping him with your hip.

“Thanks for the snacks,” you say. He grins at you.

“‘Course. Gotta take care of my girls,” he replies. He pulls one last bag of oranges from the cooler. “And one for coach.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask, looping an arm around his waist.

“What can I say? You texted the right wrong number.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #pre outbreak!joel #no outbreak!joel miller

1K notes · View notes

venriliz · 18 days

Text

🍉 palestinian fundraisers 🍉 long post! (updated 10.09.2024)

a lot of palestinians reached out to me so i'm going to compile a post of fundraisers that need donations and visibility! i did my best to make sure they're all vetted and legitimate BUT i'll list some of the unvetted but seemingly legit ones too. please research before donating since there are scammers around trying to make a quick buck through other ppls suffering!

please help if you can even if it's only by reblogging their campaign post. it's the least ppl can do! ❤️ more resources at the end of the post! ↓

★ @eslamostaz80 | gofundme | vetted by association by family-aya ★ @danashehab | gofundme | reblogged by el-shab-hussein

↓ not vetted yet (to my knowledge) but seem legitimate ↓

★ @aiamaher | gofundme

more resources:

↓ spreadsheets of vetted fundraisers ↓

★ spreadsheet of vetted fundraisers made by nabulsi and el-shab-hussein ★ spreadsheet of verified campaigns made by the butterflyeffect project ★ spreadsheet of verified fundraisers made by operation olive branch ★ spreadsheet of fundraisers made by bees and watermelons

★ gazafunds | if you can donate but feel unable to choose a fundraiser use gazafunds! they link legitimate fundraisers and prioritize campaigns by sick/injured palestinians, those that are close to meeting their goals or those whose campaigns are stagnant! ★ medical aid for palestinians ★ world central kitchen ★ palestine children's relief fund ★ click to help palestine

★ how to do google reverse image search | by doing this with photos from palestinian fundraisers, you can find out if these pictures have been used anywhere else other than the fundraiser post/gofundme themselves. if the pictures haven't been used anywhere else it can indicate that the fundraiser may be legit.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #palestinian genocide

188 notes · View notes

footygirl114 · 18 days

Text

Fuegos Artificiales (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

So Part #3 to this one, we are getting somewhere with these two but there is sooooo many unanswered questions ;)

Let me know what we think and if we want part 4, and what we want to see next?

Previous Part

As she finishes yelling at you, you can see her body deflate almost like she had been holding that in for awhile. Before your mind has a second to process any of it you watch as she reaches up and wipes a tear that had fallen from her eye. Its like your body is on auto pilot as you move closer to her, place both hands on her cheeks and you use your thumb to wipe another tear as you guide her to look into your eyes.

“Alexia look at me” you softly start waiting till you know you have her full attention. “I am right here, I am safe and right here in front of you” you continue to softly remind her as you pull her into your arms, guiding her head into your neck.

The next few minutes you continue to softly whisper reassurances in her ear, while rubbing her back. You finally start to feel the tears slow down on your neck and you can feel her getting her self together. All you can think about is how much you missed her smell, and the feeling of her being in your arms.

After a moment she pulls back and looks into your eyes and you know whats coming next. She breaks eye contact and whispers a soft “I can’t Y/N” and she turns and gets in her car and you are left standing there watching her drive away.

The role reversal doesn’t go unnoticed by you and you can understand a bit what she was talking about when you did the same thing 8 years ago and left her standing watching you leave.

The interaction plays on your mind for the following week, you don’t see or hear from her during that time, but both her mom and Alba had checked in on you a few times. You had been picking up a few extra shifts at the station to try and keep your mind occupied, which lead you to today. You were working the front desk, and it must have been a fun moon cause it was busy with the crazies coming in to complain.

You were currently dealing with an older lady who claimed she had proof of an alien spacecraft landing on the beach and kidnapping people. You had been trying not to laugh and when she tells you she has video proof but tells you to wait a moment while she finds it on her phone, you have to look away.

You take a moment to look around the room again and when you hear something from the two teenage girls sitting not too far from the counter looking at something on their phone it piques your interest.

“did you see Alexia Putellas has a girlfriend now?” the one girl asks the other, this sentence is what caught your ears and keeping one eye on the older lady looking for the evidence and the other on the two girls you continue listening in.

“no way, she’s always so private how do you know?” the other one asks her friend who said the original statement.

“Look she’s clearly making out with someone in this photo!” the original girl exclaims and moves to show the other girl her phone.

“holy shit! Isn’t that the singer she’s been rumoured to have been dating?” the other one asks her friend.

You can see the nodded answer and your heart drops, but before you can react the older lady has finally found the video she claims to have. Pulled back in to helping her lodge her complaint, then working for the next hour with multiple other complaints you finally get a second to take a step away from the desk.

You duck into the locker room, and immediately you open google and search if what the teenagers were saying was true. When you spot the pictures, they are grainy and clearly taken from the paparazzi but you would recognise Alexia anywhere. When you make this realisation you can feel the disappointment flood your body, you were half hoping it wasn’t true but seeing it on a picture you know its true.

Being gone for 8 years you know that this was a strong possibility, that she would find someone else. You just never really expected it to happen just as you came back, you had seen that she was never photographed or connected to anyone before but now that your back of course she was. When someone else enters the locker room it knocks you out of thought and you move to go back to work, but first you shoot a text to Alba asking to meet her for drinks later.

When you get off off of work you head towards the place you agreed to meet Alba at and when you walk in you have to laugh when you see her sitting at the bar clearly flirting with the bartender over the bar. You decide to have some fun with this and you walk up to her and slide your hand across her shoulder pulling her into you with a “hi babe.”

She looks up at you with a smile and says “Hola Hermana” and you can hear the cough from the bartender listening to the exchange.

You pull back and whack her arm and say “you are a jerk.”

She winks at you and turns towards the bartender and asks “another round for me and my sister, and when you are off shift I will be here waiting for you” finishing with a wink.

The bartender smiles and moves off to make the drinks, you settle aside her and state with a smile “you haven’t changed a bit Albs, I missed you.”

She answers with a smile “I missed you too, we all have.”

“I am not so sure your sister has though” you smile and nod a thank you to the bartender when a drink is dropped off in front of you.

You watch as she takes a sip of her drink and then she turns full towards you and says “Y/N, I need you to listen to me okay?”

Nodding you say “i am listening.”

“Alexia loves you, she has always loved you and that has never changed. I know what happened 8 years ago, and she was an idiot but she has suffered for all those years living in the what ifs, but the one thing that has never changed was how much she loves you.” she says all this firmly and makes sure she is looking into your eyes the whole time.

Taking a moment to take it in, you take a sip of your drink and you say softly “I think I will always love her Albs.”

“I know you will, and she still does too.”

Before you can chicken out you open your phone and show her the article you still have open and you place it in front of her as you tell her “she’s moved on Albs.”

She looks at the phone with a chuckle and she says “no she hasn’t, they’re friends and sometimes they hook up when they’re both in town. Trust me they are not an item.”

“oh” you say softly.

“Y/N she loves you, and I think you both just need to talk” she says to you.

You shrug and say “I’m just giving her space right now, let her get used to me being back in town.”

“fuck that Y/N, you need to talk to her” Alba says firmly.

“Nope, I wont force that on her Albs” You say again, and you finish off your drink and you stand up, pulling out enough cash to cover both your drinks. “I gotta go Albs, I am on shift again in the morning, but thank you for meeting me” You finish and lean over and give her a hug and press a kiss to her temple when you pull away “I appreciate you Albs.”

“Always here for you Y/N, and I mean it when I say I am so glad you are back” She smiles at you.

“Bye Albs” You say as you walk away, and when you turn at the door you see she’s already back to flirting with the bartender and you cant help but to smile to your self as you head out.

A few days later you were walking into a nightclub after Alba had called you and told you that you had no choice but to come out with her and a few friends to let off some steam. You were never good at saying no to Alba, which is why you were dressed the part and you weren’t too upset about having to be out past your bedtime.

The desert didn’t allow for much time to let loose and dance, and one thing you loved to do was to get lost in the music and just dance. Walking through the throngs of people you moved towards the VIP area where Alba said she would be and you can feel the spanish beats and you know it should be a fun night to let loose.

What you should have done was to ask who would be there, but you secretly hoped you would be able to spend more time with Alexia, so you didn’t ask. When you lock eyes with Alexia you cant help but to feel slightly giddy at the chance to spend more time with her.

“Y/N!!!” Alba screams when she sees you and she comes up and pulls you into a hug.

You smile and squeeze her back and you let her pull you around the group and introduces you to most of her friends there, you settle in the booth across from Alexia when Alba pours you a drink. You sip on it and make small talk and when the music becomes more dance music you meet Albas eyes and you both bee line it for the dance floor.

You let the music move you, eyes closed dancing with Alba and a few of her friends who came with you to the dance floor. When the music slows down you blink your eyes open and you immediately look towards Alexia, her eyes are dark and locked on your body as she remains seated in the booth.

Your body heats up and you keep moving to the beat while keeping your eyes locked on Alexia’s. A few songs go by as you keep your eyes locked with hers and you keep dancing, when you finally have enough you move your hand out and gesture for her to come out on the dance floor. When she doesn’t move you gesture again and she stands up and moves towards you.

When she’s within arms reach you move to grab her and pull her closer but before you can she recoils and basically runs off the dance floor towards the bathrooms. Without thinking you follow her down the hall and you grab her arm before she can get into the bathroom.

“Alexia wait” you plead with her.

She shakes her head and says “you cant just come back here and do this Y/N.”

“do what?” you ask dumfounded.

“this Y/N, it is not fair to me” she says firmly.

You let her go and take a step back and ask softly “what am I doing Ale?”

“you left Y/N, everything is not the dame.” she says and before you can respond she darts out the hallway and you watch as she disappears into the crowd. You stand there conflicted, unsure what to believe. Alba says she cares, Alexia’s actions prove she doesn’t want you to try. Shaking your head you shoot Alba a text that you were leaving and you head out of the crowded club.

You spend the next week confused and when you are in this state of mind the best thing you can do is throw your self into work and avoid the thoughts swirling in your head. It also means you were avoiding Alba and any of her scheming, wanting to figure out what you want to do first. When Eli calls you and invites you to the families celebration to watch the upcoming fireworks you are left with no choice when she all but tells you that you have to go.

When you walk into the park you agreed to meet at, you at least are surrounded by people and some of their extended family, you stick close to Alba and try to not make any eye contact with Alexia either. The evening goes pretty smoothly and you settle on the blanket with Alba and Eli to watch the fireworks. Alexia is sitting with a couple of the cousins in front of you, which means you can watch her without her knowing.

You were so distracted by everything and your thoughts you didn’t think about the fact that there would be live fireworks going off. When the first one goes off you are prepared and you jump slightly but you remain okay, Alba reaches a hand over and rubs your thigh when she feels you jump and you remind yourself where you are.

When another cluster goes off in succession, you can feel the flashbacks trying to fight their way in, and when you meet Alba’s eyes you smile at her. The next one goes off and you know you need to get out of there. You stumble up and when they look at you with a concerned face you smile and mouth ‘bathroom’ before turning and moving further away.

When you get past the crowd of people you stand there trying to figure out your next move, so caught up in your head and trying to fight the flashbacks you don’t hear Alexia approach, but just like when you were younger you can feel her. She places a hand on your lower back and when you meet her eyes you can see the concern in them.

She smiles at you and you get lost in her eyes, but when another round goes off you jump again, and the flashbacks start creeping in.

Before you can get lost in them, she says “Y/N, here put these in” as she hands you her AirPods.

You look at her with a question and ask “what?”

“Put the AirPods in and come with me” she says firmly. You place them in and she turns the music up and she pulls your hand to follow her. She takes you behind a wall, where its mostly covered from the flashing lights and she pushes you to slide down the wall and sit.

She sits beside you and places a hand on the back of your head scratching her scalp, which is something she knows calms you down immediately. Her other hand reaches over and grips your hand squeezing every so often. You keep your eyes closed and listen to the beat in your ears and focus on the feeling of her touch.

Unsure how much time goes by you come back to it when the music stops and you look over at her and she smiles and says “its over Y/n.”

“Thank you for doing this Ale, Im so glad you had those AirPods on you.” you chuckle.

She smiles and says “I brought them in case you needed them Y/N.”

“You did?”

Nodding she says “I figured it might be too much for you.”

Smiling softly you say “you’re very sweet.”

“I want to help you Y/N” she says softly.

You realise how close you are and you lean in and you feel her breath on your lips, you go to close the distance when you are startled by kids running by your hiding place screaming. She pulls back with a smile and stands up holding her hands out to help you up.

“We should go find my family.” she says once you move to follow her.

You follow her back to her family and all you can think about is how much you want to have that happen again, how that maybe she wants it to happen too.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine #espwnt x reader

372 notes · View notes

voxmortuus · 3 months

Note

Hi baby. Saw the prompt list. 😎 May I have #5 ☆ { calling } them late at night to come over for Jax Teller, please?

Thank you. ♥

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Jax Teller x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ Sons of Anarchy ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 1.1k ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Fluff | Smut | Jax and his filthy mouth (language) | Foreplay | P-i-V | Pull-out Method | More fluff | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ This was found through Google and is not my GIF, if this is your GIF or know whose it is, please inbox me, so I can credit the creator. Thank you! ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

It was just one of those nights, there's only so much scrolling you can do before things become repetitive, and boring in your feeds. Flipping between Tumblr, Reddit, and Facebook, things were becoming boring, and nothing was helping you fall asleep. Tapping the side of your phone, you flip through old photos, smiling now and again looking over Jax's face. Sitting up in bed, you check the time, 12:24 a.m. Sighing, you decide to give it a shot, chances are Jax was up anyway, so why not.

Scrolling down and finding his name, you hit the call button, and wait. Ringing you groan, maybe he was --

"Hey, Darlin'. You alright? What's up?" he asks, you can tell there's a smile on his face.

"Hey, Baby. I know it's kinda late, but would you mind coming over... I can't sleep... and I could use the company." you bite your lip a bit.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be over in 15." he stated.

After the brief conversation and a quick I love you and a hangup, you go unlock your door, knowing he'll lock it when he gets here.

Hearing the motorcycle approach, and the engine turn off, you feel this bubble of excitement pulse through you. It was a matter of time before you heard your front door open, close, lock, and the sound of boots headed your way.

Peeking his head in, he looks over you, and you smile, moving over you pat the empty space in your bed and gesture for him to join you. Taking the hint, he makes his way over, slipping off his vest and coat, tossing his hat on the table, and kicking off his boots and socks, he slips into bed.

"Your pants... your shirt... are in the way." you smirk.

He chuckles and standing back up he takes them off, dropping them to the floor before climbing back in under the covers. You scoot yourself closer, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close.

"Can't sleep?" he asked you.

Nodding, your fingers move over his chest as you look up at him and smile. "Thank you for coming over."

"It's nothin' Darlin'. I've always told you I'm a call away." he kisses the top of your head.

A soft smile graces your lips as you scoot a little closer to him and let out a small satisfied smile. But you seem you can't keep your hands from wandering on him. Slipping under the blanket, you keep your gaze on him as you move over his boxers. Smiling, you bite at your lip and kiss him sweetly.

A slight chuckle escapes his lips as he pulls you closer to him, his hand roaming your figure as he moves you to lay on top of him, holding you close, his hips move upward a bit, kissing you deeply, and he slips the shirt from your body and tosses it to the floor along with his clothes.

Pressing yourself against him, your hands move up along his sides and find your way to get tangled in that love head of golden locks. The kissing gets a little heavier between you two, the touching, how you press your hips against him, feeling him harden against you. You move your hand between your legs as you grip him through his boxers. He groans against your lips as he grips your breast, pulling you closer, and kissing you deeper.

The kissing, the touching, the grunts, and the groans were enough to send you into a feral mind. Moving his boxers down, you slip him right between your lips, your hips press yourself down, pressing him deeper inside you. You both end up groaning in unison.

His grip on your hips is tight, his fingers pressing hard against your flesh, indenting as he thrusts upward just enough to finish that last little bit you wanted to slip inside you. The streetlights are the only thing illuminating the room, your shadow cast on the walls. Looking over, he watches your shadow as you brace yourself against his chest and begin to move up and down on his cock.

Holding your thighs in his hands, he watches the way you move against him, your hands pressing into his chest as he moves his own up your body, feeling your flesh under his hands was a sort of high for him. He presses a hand against your chest, between your breasts, as he slowly guides your motions as he thrusts upward.

As you are being guided with a hand on your chest, one on your hip, and his cock between your legs, your head falls back as you let out a loud, long, drawn-out moan. Your body trembles as you pick up on the sounds, the smells, the way the air tastes. Listening to him grunt and your own moans fill the air. It's all palpable. Erotic. Addicting.

The way you both work against and with each other, it sends these shockwaves through both of you, a genuine quickie, you feel yourself building, but of course, it doesn't help with his own buildup, you can tell in his tone, in how frequent his groans become, in how his breath smells. Leaning forward, you moan against his lips. And that's when he tells you to finish with him. He lifts you up, and you grip his cock as he works your bud.

Before you know it, your whole body trembles, feeling those hot ribbons of white pour against you. Whimpering and trembling against him, you begin to pant. Achieving your desired goal, he leans against the pillow but grabs something to clean you up.

There was hardly anything spoken between you two. But you lay there, holding him close, you look up at him as he stares down at you.

"You feel good." you chuckle.

"What even was that?" he chuckles.

"I think it's called a quickie. You should be used to those." you poke.

"Ohh, is that what that was? I like those... but next time... we do a longie... not a quickie," he smirks.

"I'll play with your longie." you chuckle.

"No, Darlin', we call it a cock, longie.... please no." he chuckles. "Besides, I like the way the word cock escapes your lips." he smirked.

"You like your cock between my lips Jax..." you joust.

Gasping he chuckles. "That is true... gotta say, you're a good cocksucker." he winks.

The night continued into the morning, and eventually, you had both fallen asleep. His arms wrapped around you, his face in your hair, and you clung to him like your entire life depended on it. You were glad you called him over, much needed, and the sleep was much better with him there.

279 notes · View notes

didyoulookforme · 1 month

Text

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself—sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you—but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?” seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himsel. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

-----

for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

#wrote most of this while high so i apologize if it doesn't make sense #give me a moment #stylist au #matty healy smut #the 1975 smut #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy imagine #gmam #mw

151 notes · View notes