#hate weekends so fucking much what a waste of free time

[phagodyke]

oh wow just saw flatmate messaged saying another friend passed smth on like oh okay. I didn't realise he went too u didn't say. in fact none of u said anything to me so that's great

[papurgaatika]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k

Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.

(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)

Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything. 

But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car. 

Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.” 

You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. “I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.” 

“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.

“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.” 

Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words. 

You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly. 

“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel. 

You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you. 

The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face. 

“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms. 

You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy, 

And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house. 

You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.

Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway. 

Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes. 

Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father. 

“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that. 

The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”

Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?” 

Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”

You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass. 

You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”

“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face. 

“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home. 

You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard. 

You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed. 

You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties. 

You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute. 

And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me” 

A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes,  “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again. 

He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties. 

  “but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway. 

He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight. 

You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again. 

You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?” 

A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit. 

Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want. 

Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face. 

His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry” 

His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis. 

You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much. 

You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words. 

“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes. 

“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair. 

“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying. 

Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips. 

“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”

Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.  Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[musicallisto]

· · · · ♡ IF (SAINZ WIN == TRUE) (cs55)

… starring carlos sainz x f!engineer!reader ... 4.4k words ... in which carlos is an effusive, self-assured lad to every member of his team... except ferrari's head software engineer, making her wonder if he secretly hates her guts. ... based on this request ... warnings for language (minor) ... my first ever (posted) fic for carlos aaaaa (i have written A Lot More about this man because he occupies my every waking hour, but i shan't share it yet). in honor of me missing my communication networks final last week i made the reader a software engineer, but you would Never catch me willingly coding anything in c++ outside of my mandated assignments. no not even for carlos sainz jr. i have morals. this is open for part 2 if you guys enjoy it <3

He speaks the language of princes.

It's not in anything he says, no, he's much too industrious to waste time boasting, but rather in all that he doesn't. Carlos walks into the Ferrari motorhome, with that good-natured smile and that slightly disheveled hair from the morning's cycling session, and heads bow. Not out of plight, or even obligation, but mostly because it's hard not to. His warm greetings to everyone—Ciao's and even Come stai?'s to his team members strolling down the hallways before the weekend—, his keen interest in remembering little things about engineers' and photographers' lives, his nonchalant stride around the parc fermé all force camaraderie at least; reverence to most.

Wherever the red car goes, Maranello or any other corner of the world, religion follows, and though Carlos Sainz has never quite fit into the nooks they keep for their idols—their walls are carved for Monégasque shoulders—, he's at least always carried the air of a rebel leader on unforgving land.

But if Carlos is Ferrari's bastard prince, then clearly you are a subject he would not go to war for.

Or so he makes you think, once again, on that hot Singaporean afternoon.

You hadn't meant to interrupt, really, but with only one hour to go before FP1, you needed to talk to Riccardo Adami; something about the software updates, optimization of the data acquisition systems to account for Marina Bay's sweltering heat—run for half a second too long, overheat half a degree too much, and everyone's calculations would be going to hell. So of course you'd corrected it, supervised a brand new version of your code for the weekend, for that tenth of a Celsius; competition drove you. Almost just as much as those solar eyes boring into you when you walk into the room.

"Riccardo, about the softw—oh. Carlos. Hi," you timidly trail off when Carlos' eyes meet yours.

The room gets quiet, and it is only then that you notice how much space his laugh takes. Usually, you would've recognized the accent from outside the door, the boisterous voice regaling the Fifty-fives with another funny story—how could you not, when it sends shockwaves down your stomach? He seems to have been in an animated conversation with his race engineer, but as you get closer to the two men you notice the crinkles lengthening Carlos' eyes are fading with his smile. You aren't sure he's even said hi back.

"We've changed the code for acquisition, but some loops could still cause problems with overheating, particularly the engine oil temperature sensors…" you explain, though half your attention is directed to your peripheral vision, in which Carlos sways on his two feet, averting your gaze at all costs.

But you're not a college girl with a crush, you're Scuderia Ferrari's head software engineer and so you go on with your precisions to Riccardo. What to expect during free practice, how to overshoot any nonessential sensors that might fuck up the data analysis... until, mid-sentence, Carlos excuses himself awkwardly, pats Ricky on the shoulder, and walks out of the room.

You will your face into not betraying the sudden ache in your throat. How he simply acted like you weren't there... didn't even inquire about the updates. About the race. About your flight, about how much you loved Singapore's twinkling lights, about... you.

"Xavi and Charles know this already, but we really gotta test it all now before it gets cooler for FP2," you conclude with a too-hard swallow. Back firmly turned to the door Carlos just disappeared out of.

Riccardo thanks you, offers his own insight, some banalities about the risks of rain—no, you shouldn't consider them banalities. Nothing, on a Friday, is a banality anymore; yet everything is when you remember how Carlos' entire face shuts close when you're around, how his tone quietens down, how he repeatedly and stubbornly conceals all his rays of brazenness from you.

Does he hate you? Despise you? Are you not worth his effrontery?

This is ridiculous. You're not a college girl with a crush, you're a damn senior member of the team with responsibilities and he doesn't owe you anything more or less than you him—

"Riccardo," you neither ask nor plead. "Has Carlos... said anything about me?"

"About you? Like what?"

"I don't know... but you did see he just... left while I was in the middle of talking, right? And he looked annoyed as soon as I came in." And for all that's holy, try to pass this off as mere politeness and not a heartache that is eating you alive.

"Maybe he was just bored."

"So I'm boring?"

"No," Riccardo wheezes, in uncharacteristically high spirits for the conversation. "But I've worked with a ton of drivers, and you know, they're all the same. Less time discussing boring analytics is more time they spend in the sim. Or on track. What, you think he's angry at you or something?"

"I just... don't get why he's always so guarded and distant with me but so outgoing and confident with you guys. Charles isn't like that either. It makes no sense. We're a team, all of us."

The Italian looks at you for long seconds, amusement noticeable on his features, and you would shake him up and tell him to stop giving you those pity eyes if you lacked the tiniest bit of respect for the man; instead, you frown and cross your arms.

"He'll be in a good mood tonight when we top free practice," Riccardo assures you before you can ask him if he needs anything else. "and even better tomorrow after getting pole. You can talk to him then if you want."

A smile creeps its way on your lips without you conjuring it. There it is, that loyal veneration that only men and women of the Scuderia possess. Something in those southern eyes Carlos shares with legend has made you religious, too.

"I'll hold you to that... we could all use a Singapore miracle."

Singapore is a miracle.

Surely any other team would scoff at the word, bragging that a pole position has nothing to do with miracles, that it's all meticulous teamwork and endless iterations on calculators, but Ferrari is deeply supersitious at its core. You—the centenarian team, its red-hot beating heart—don't shy away from thanking divine intervention. Maybe that's the reason why it still works.

After Carlos' last pole in Monza, the whole Scuderia had dared to dream of something different, a glimmer of scarlet in the season's overwhelming orange. Of course, an uncatchable Max had put a dampen on the fervent Tifosi's mood, but the formidable hope machine had revved back to life...

and now it's roaring in Marina Bay.

Leclerc's side of the garage claps for a hard-earned P3, but it's the Spaniard's team that erupts into cheers and rushes out into the pitlane to congratulate their hero. You stare at his lap time on your monitor with a grin—1:30.984, not even a tenth faster than his teammate—as cheerful screams, in Italian and Spanish, fill the garage; they get louder when Carlos walks back inside, grinning ear to ear and not even bothering to dodge the strong-arm pats on his head and back.

"Twice in a row, cazzo!"

"And this time you won't have Verstappen underfoot!"

"Perfect lap, Carlos, that was a perfect lap..."

"Grazie a tutti," Carlos beams, fire suit down to his waist, running clammy hands through his hair—he parts the red sea as he walks deeper into the garage, close to where you are. "I think we all did a very good job today, and now we gotta finish the job tomorrow..."

He laughs with the mechanics, a sun of fire and victory casting its rays onto the tarmac, and maybe it's the euphoria of the moment, but a sudden wind of courage rushes through your blood, and you walk up to him.

"Bravo, Carlos."

Your voice hits him like the purr of an engine in the ruckus, overshadowing any other sound; he whips his head in your direction, shiny eyes colliding with yours, and for the first time you don't back off but hold them in awe, and his smile doesn't fade, but rather shifts. To surprise, or... coyness?

"You were incredible out there, we're all so so proud of you," you praise, and the more you look at him the wider your smile grows, and the quieter the rest of the world gets.

"Thank you, Y/N," he rubs the back of his neck, his free hand fiddling with the hanging sleeves of his fire suit. "We... I couldn't have done this without you. Because, you know, the overheating, or what you were saying to Ricky before? I didn't understand everything, but at least I didn't cook to death."

Coyness? In Carlos Sainz? When he's still sweaty and panting from qualifying first? What a bizarre sight, one that makes you giggle.

The way your nose scrunches up beneath sparkling eyes is so endearing, Carlos almost feels his breath hitch in his throat, almost reaches out to lightly brush your arm, hold the steady coolness of it.

"Great, that was what we were going for, pretty much," you reply, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to touch your arm and changed his mind, but...

you bury the idea before a craving for his warmth can nestle in your chest.

"Great," he repeats. "So, I'll... see you later," and with that he leaves you there, stranded in the middle of the garage, to be lauded by the press and fans.

You'd be lying if you said his shadow disappearing out the backdoor as quickly as it had come doesn't slice a gash in your heart—always whisked away to some important obligation, and you, like everyone else, duty-bound to pick up the pieces behind him. But this time around the cut doesn't run as deep, doesn't bleed as red; because for the first time in months Carlos talked to you, joked with you, and looked the tiniest bit glad to be doing so.

If that's how good of a mood a pole puts him in... then clearly you'd better make damn sure he wins this race.

Ferrari is deeply superstitious at its core. Maybe that much is true in any sport—when victory eludes you, athletes find obscure laws to trick themselves into believing they still retain control—, but a team so old, on which glory has rained so often, does not withstand the passage of time without a few pillars of faith. And so it makes sense that Ferrari drivers, of all people, would have their pre-race traditions.

Leclerc plays the piano on Saturday nights; you hear him every time you pass by the team hotel's lounge, his melancholy tracks grounding you in a precise time and place. Now the car is out of bounds, the comfort of your object-oriented programming and optimized lines of code off-limits; now's the time for withdrawal and rest.

Typically, you like to hang out in the lounge while Charles plays, trying to distract yourself with a book or simply basking in the music. The predictable, calculated flow of Charles' arpeggios soothes you, like lines of code running one after the other. So does the Monégasque driver's easy conversation. Although it doesn't shoot butterflies in your belly like Carlos' does... but you're not supposed to play favorites.

This Grand Prix eve is just like any other, save for the unordinary trepidation that carpets the hotel. With one of their own sitting on pole, it's obvious strategists struggle more than usual to drop the words "tire management" and "pit stops". Eager to escape the nervousness, you excuse yourself from the dinner table, and make your way to the lounge.

Charles is already there, if the usual pieces echoing in the distance at dessert are any indication, and you barely even get lost in the elegant halls before you find the lounge... though there is no piano to be heard. Maybe this hotel has two music rooms—maybe Charles went to bed early—or maybe...

maybe he's sitting on the piano stool and chatting with Carlos, wet and sleepy from his evening shower.

Neither driver notices you at first, and you stop dead in your tracks, wondering if you should just leave. You wouldn't want to intrude—intrude on what, the rational part of your brain says, but with Carlos I always feel like I'm intruding on something bigger than myself, the rest of your body answers—, but you really enjoy this unspoken tradition with Charles... and, well, this is everybody's lounge, and...

"Y/N," Charles sees you eventually and beckons you over. "Sorry, I don't think there'll be a lot of music tonight, Carlos is distracting me."

"You could kick me out anytime," Carlos remarks good-naturedly, but you don't miss how he angles his body away from you ever so slightly. The sight sends a dagger through your heart. So he actually hates you then. So you didn't breach any barrier earlier at the circuit, didn't melt any ice. So he didn't look pleased and a little excited to be talking to you.

"That's okay, I'll just head to bed then—"

"Oh no no no," Charles interrupts, "come sit with us. I was trying to convince Carlos to give the piano a go, maybe you'll be more successful than me."

"Absolutely not, mate."

"Come on Carlos, it will relax you!"

"No, you're the musician, not me. One of us has to be the sportsman, no?"

Unsure, you flick between the two men, Charles' inviting face and Carlos, who's still doing everything he can to avoid looking at you in the eye. And then you decide—fuck it. You're just as much a member of the team as he is. He cannot drive you away with his... stupid cold shoulder tactics any longer.

You take a seat on the sofa opposite Carlos, and watch in half delight, half annoyance as he turns his shoulders away from you. Though his body language appears relaxed, one leg strewn across his knee and elbows hugging the backrest, he is, as usual, going to hell and beyond to not acknowledge your presence.

Charles has the merit of lightening the mood with his jokes and fan encounters of the day: some bizarre, some endearing, because he seemingly never has a boring day in the paddock. His easy laughter mixes with the distant voices down the halls when your attention drops—too fast, too soon, as always, it's irremediable—to Carlos, the soothing scent of his shampoo and the little droplets that run down his temple whenever he shakes his head in amusement... before you know it, you're staring again, eyes shining with undisclosed heartache. Something Charles sees, and recognizes very well, with a jot of curiosity.

Charles may not be the most perceptive when it comes to these things, but he is in love too, and he'd know the signs anywhere. That's why after a little while he lets silence blow his last words away like wind does the mist, and stands up from the piano stool.

"Well, I'm going to bed," he announces with an air of conniving finality, and he smiles his crooked smile at Carlos. "Gonna need all my energy to take the lead in turn 1."

This snaps you out of your reverie. Half-gone, you bid him goodnight at the same time as the Spaniard does, and you brace yourself for his own excuse... but it doesn't come. Carlos lazily watches as Charles leaves the lounge. You don't dare to move, as if your slightest sound could remind him you're there and trigger his fight.

You would've thought a tête-à-tête with you to be Carlos' worst nightmare... but he makes no sign of leaving. And sends solar flares up your chest and throat. "Whatever problem he's got with me, he'll have it sort it out with me like an adult" sounds much more intimidating when it's so plausible.

"You think he has the slightest chance of overtaking me in turn 1?" Carlos chuckles.

You look him straight in the eye and read no resentment, not even that sheepishness from before—just relaxed delight, and the slightest hint of reddened cheeks against tan, damp skin. It takes you a second, maybe even two, to realize there's no one else in the room. He's talking to you. Joking with you.

Why is the script running without error all of a sudden, even though you changed no variables?

"Maybe," you give a noncommittal shrug and a smile. "Why not? It all depends on you."

"He can lead the first lap if he wants. That will just make it more fun to cross the finish line ahead of him after."

"You better win this one, Sainz, because I..." you start, and midway through your sentence are hit by how absolutely ridiculous you're about to sound, but he's leaned in already, intrigued by your words, and his burning gaze and strong hands fiddling in his lap have you losing all notions of propriety. "I've... coded a little something for you. If you win. A surprise. It's not much, but... yeah."

Your whole face burns deep scarlet as you trail off... and the light in Carlos' eyes darkens, then goes out completely. His smile fades back to the usual professional grimace he reserves for you. Distant. Cold. He rises to his feet.

"I should get some sleep."

Terror strikes you. Incomprehension too.

"No, Carlos, wait."

He turns his head to your outstretched hand... your pleading eyes almost rip through his heart.

"Why do you dislike me so much?"

And then his shoulders slump, like crushed by an immense weariness, and he sighs, long and hard, before his gaze falls back to yours. Those big brown eyes, gentle, compassionate, and those fingers tapping against his thigh like they're waiting for an invisible cue to reach out for yours.

"... Can we talk about this after the race?" he says, shooting daggers through your stomach.

So he didn't deny it. Didn't reassure you, tell you it's all a misunderstanding, that he bears no ill will towards you, that you're imagining things as usual and that you two could be on the best of terms if you just got out of your head a little bit.

One more time, he's running away. Sweeping everything under the rug, for just one more session, one more race, hiding behind the excuse of concentration and professionalism.

But who are you to revoke him that? It's a damn good excuse. You need to win. He needs to win. Not be bothered about... interpersonal relationships while clipping walls.

"... Alright," you concede, voice and bones all broken, glistening under your frozen skin. "But if it's something I've done, then I'm sorry. I really do... enjoy your company. And you."

"It's not something you've done," he speaks quietly. Gosh, your frailty in this moment—you, so proud and unshakable on the pit wall, so dedicated and thorough on TV, so immeasurably devoted to Ferrari, to Charles, to him... "Or, well, I guess not directly..."

If he looks into your confused, imploring eyes one more second, almost brushes your arm with his one more time, then he's done for. But he thinks he knows this already.

"I don't dislike you," he starts speaking and as soon as he opens his mouth he knows there's no stopping himself now, so he blurts it all out as quickly as he can to get it over with and hopefully bury some meaning in the pits of his accent. "Not at all. In fact I really like you. I think you're gorgeous, and smart, and clever, and fun, and every day I wish I could spend more time with you outside of races and get to know you better but then I remember that can never happen and it's so frustrating and I have the hardest time concentrating. So I just avoid you. It's easier."

Silence thick as a thundercloud tethers you to one another. He runs a hand over his face, sighing deep, and you blink. Once, twice.

You've always prided yourself on your brains—not everyone gets to be in charge of all the computing for a Formula 1 car—but right now, you are all utterly lost.

"Carlos, I... I don't get it." Or maybe you do, heart thumping in your ears, but you're too scared you might be wrong.

"In any other life I would've asked you out on a date." This time he speaks more slowly, more purposefully, too. Like he's imbuing every syllable with the depth of his confession. "But it kills me that it can't be this one."

"... Why not?" you tentatively ask after an instant, feigning not to notice how his hand is now resting on the back of your sofa, right next to your ear and neck.

"Because you're a senior engineer! That would be like... like dating Ricky. Even if you're much prettier than Ricky. But you don't need to tell him that," he adds with a nervous laugh, which you mirror; though you fall silent as soon as his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, right where your collar ends, millimeters away from your skin. His body's warring with his own words... one wants to resist, the other to give in. "What if I leave Ferrari? That's a crazy conflict of interest."

"That's a silly idea, you're not leaving Ferrari anytime soon. Are you?"

"I don't know, it's... hypothetically... you know what I mean," he exhales in defeat. His hand clasps a little tighter on your shoulder, his scent dizzying, closer than ever before. Can he feel your frantic heart thumping underneath your skin? If he keeps licking his lips like this, will he sense your breathing getting more erratic?

"I do. But... the problem is I like you too, Carlos."

If embers could burn back to life, light a hearth out of nothingness... they wouldn't shine as bright as Carlos' eyes just then.

"Don't mess with me."

"I'm not messing with you. Why wouldn't I like you?"

"Because you're not supposed to have a favorite."

"I won't tell Fred if you don't."

He laughs, a brittle but adorable little thing, like a small bird taking its first flight. If you could hear the sound more often, see that bashful smile on his handsome face more every day... you wouldn't need any other prince to die in war for.

His hand runs down your arm, his thumb lightly caressing your skin through the fabric of your shirt before he grabs your shaky hand in his.

"Now's not the best time, but... I think we've got to have an important conversation after the race tomorrow," his deep, soft tone pacifying you just as much as the abstract shapes he traces on the back of your hand.

"After you win, you mean."

"Right. After I get my surprise, no?"

"After you win," you repeat with a grin, and he squeezes your hand, smiling too. Something, deep down, tells him he'll win regardless of the race result.

"Cosa diavolo sta facendo?"

Even in spite of the roaring crowd and the bellowing V8s speeding down the straight, the dumbfounded voices around the pit wall come to you clear as day.

"Russell 1.4 behind Lando," Ricky, sitting on the other side of Vasseur, speaks into his headset.

The team principal keeps quiet, eyes fixed on the cascade of numbers and brackets on your screen. He understands before the rest of the wall what his driver is doing; and as you relay all the information you get to the race engineers, you understand it too.

"Lando .8 behind, .8 behind with DRS—Russell no DRS... Copy that."

He's doing it on purpose. Keeping Norris just close enough to shield him from the Mercs while making sure he can't catch up. You'd laugh in triumph and disbelief if you weren't gritting your teeth so damn hard, heart on the verge of exploding as the last laps tick out in a blur.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more seconds, and the night sky over Marina Bay will explode in crimson lights...

Mechanics spring to their feet and climb the wall to the track, bumping their fists in the air. Cheers, claps, exclamations, a bouquet of red roses swaying in the wind to greet its champion at the finish line. And then, the unmistakable roar of a racecar speeding past the chequered flag at three hundred kilometers an hour. Liberation.

You spring to your feet right as the fireworks go off, yelling to the sky. Carlos won. Carlos won! Your Carlos—in the middle of Red Bull's flawless season...

"¡Vamos Fred! ¡Vamos Ricky!" Flashes of red and gold pass his high spirits by, diligently braking into the first corner.

He laughs, he screams it all out, unclenching all his muscles, woozy from the G's, from the adrenaline, from the win... from you, watching him from the pit wall. From the memory of your skin against his, your adoring eyes and the formidable lightness inside his chest that has him feeling like he's the king of the world.

In a few minutes, he'll be posing with his trophy and the team in front of his P1 plaque for the group photo, and he'll drench you in champagne—your lively laughter will fill his heart with the gold of medals. And later in the evening, before the afterparty, he'll pull you aside and tell you maybe this victory has made him reckless, and he'll kiss you senselessly like a prize he fought for.

For now, though, he's nodding his head at Lando who gave him a congratulatory wave from his car when his on-board screen lights up with an unexpected message. Glowing red letters read, "Great job, smooth operator! 🌶️" Laughter escapes him as small virtual fireworks go off on his screen... and he presses the radio button on his steering wheel.

"Did she have one of these ready for Charles too?"

A few seconds of white noise, and then, your mischievous voice, dripping with joy.

"You know me, Carlos. Never play favorites."

… f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

[ultrone]

all eyes on you !

jealous!perv!nat spies on u through the gym’s surveillance cameras and gets jealous of lottie ҂ smut with plot; stalking, masturbation, jealousy, clothed fingering, cum-filled strap-on use, angry fucking, dirty talking, creampie. . .﹙2.9k wc﹚

last month, natalie found herself in another serious predicament—her chronic tardiness had struck once again, with a tally of nine late arrivals in just a single month. the patience of her program's coordinator was wearing thin; nat's disregard for detentions had begun to frustrate her professors. her coordinator was on the verge of giving her an ultimatum: complete a minimum of 60 hours of community service before the semester came to a close.

however, the situation took an unexpected turn when the person responsible for monitoring the gym's security cameras during the third block suddenly quit without any explanation. coincidentally, natalie had a free block during that exact time slot. the coordinator saw this as a chance to teach her a lesson, as this particular block was when nat often hurriedly left campus before her lunchtime and returned late for her next class. it presented itself as the perfect chance for intervention. so, they offered her a deal: instead of getting in trouble, she could take over the job of the person who left, at least until they found a replacement.

at first, nat didn't like the idea. she thought it was dumb and a waste of time. plus, the fact that she wouldn't be getting paid for it bothered her. but she realized that if she got suspended, she was fucked, as it could ruin her scholarship. the only reason she got accepted into university was because she had a scholarship for playing soccer. so, she decided to agree to the deal and take on the job, even though she didn't want to.

however, her resentment and lack of interest in the job vanished the moment she took charge of the camera system during her first shift. a realization struck her: you were there. you happened to have gym class during that same block. the instant she caught sight of you through the camera feed, clad in that tank top and those notably short shorts, she promptly stowed away the sleeping bag and sleeping mask she had managed to sneak into her backpack. her focus shifted entirely to observing you.

the two of you were close. maybe not best-friend level, but definitely close enough to exchange texts almost every day and hang out pretty much every weekend. you’d probably be best friends if it wasn’t because of lottie, you’d be hers if it wasn’t because of fucking lottie. she seemed to always be around you, attending the same classes and sticking by your side during soccer practice. it felt as though natalie was receiving the leftover moments lottie didn't claim when she wasn't with you. yet, what irked her the most was  lottie’s obvious crush on you. the lingering gazes, the tender way she said your name, the subtle touches—they all fueled nat's frustration. the only thing keeping nat from beating the shit out of lottie was you; she dreaded the idea of you hating her.

today was like any other day. after finishing her second block class, nat proceeded to the security office located on the gym's second floor. positioned at the far end of the hallway, she quietly shut the door upon entering before settling into her chair. with a few clicks, she activated the surveillance cameras, and there you were—as beautiful as ever. by the moment you started stretching, nat was already unbuttoning her pants, slipping her hand inside almost instinctively. she was wearing a strap today, but didn’t feel like taking it off. instead, she maneuvered her hand beneath it and started touching herself. she observed the way you massaged your sore thighs from the previous day, the way you would bend down and display your ass to her, only her. her fingers started circling her clit faster and faster, and she started moaning out your name.

right when nat was about to reach climax, lottie unexpectedly entered the frame of the screen, giving you a warm hug. in no time, your hands yielded to lottie's as she took over the task of massaging your back. as her fingers skillfully worked to alleviate the tension in your shoulders, you tilted your head back, closing your eyes at the feeling. meanwhile, nat observed the scene with a puzzled expression on her face.

“fucking bitch,” she quietly muttered, withdrawing her hand from her pants and zipping them up, frustration and disbelief evident in her expression.

this event turned her off completely, so she directed her attention toward her phone, as she wasn’t even able to look at you right now or she would combust in anger. she got so immersed on her phone that she didn’t notice the coach pulling you aside and telling you something. it wasn’t until she looked back at the surveillance that she realized that you were gone. she checked every angle of the gym, every hallway, you were nowhere to be found—and neither was lottie. right when she was about to slam her phone against the floor, she heard a knock on the door, and then someone twisting the doorknob open.

“hey, nat!” you said enthusiastically. “how are you?” you asked her.

“i’m good,” she replied colder than usual. she was kind of aloof by nature, but she was always nice to you, so you found it a bit weird.

“uh, okay. i’m glad,” you responded, “coach lost his stopwatch, he said you have more in here?” you asked her.

"first cabinet," she remarked nonchalantly, her gaze returning to her phone.

opting not to address her peculiar behaviour, you simply went on to search for the stopwatch. you opened the initial cabinet of the desk where nat had propped up her feet and sifted through its contents until finally locating what you needed. "found it!" you exclaimed as you retrieved the stopwatch and shut the cabinet.

"i'll see you later. enjoy your security endeavors," you added, a playful smile on your face.

"sure thing," she replied, her tone casual. "and you... have fun with lottie," she added, her words laced with a subtle sarcasm that was hard to miss.

curiously, you asked, "what do you mean by that?" her tone leaving you slightly puzzled.

“nothing, i mean, you two looked pretty close in there,” she began, her gaze finally meeting yours. “rubbing your back like that and all.”

a bit taken aback, you explained, "well, you know that lottie and i are really close friends, so i'm not sure where you're going with this. and why were you keeping tabs on us anyway?"

nat rolled her eyes and scoffed, "please, spare me the innocent act. you know exactly what i'm talking about. and besides, lottie's not exactly the most trustworthy person, is she?"

you felt a surge of irritation rise within you. "what are you talking about? lottie's been nothing but a good friend to me."

"look, i'm just saying," nat defended herself, "lottie has a reputation for being flirty with everyone. you don't want to be just another name on her list."

disbelief coursed through you. "that's ridiculous," you shot back. "lottie’s just a friend, and i trust her. you're just jealous."

"jealous?" nat scoffed. "why would i be jealous? i have no interest in you like that."

"then what's the problem?" you demanded, a hint of frustration in your voice.

"problem? there's no problem," nat retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "i just care about you, okay? maybe a bit too much, considering it's none of my business who you're cozying up to."

you felt a mix of frustration and confusion. "nat, you're acting really strange right now. what’s wrong?"

"oh, so now you're the expert on how i'm supposed to act?" she spat out, her voice tinged with a sharp edge. she suddenly stood up, her chair scraping back, and before you knew it, she had you cornered between her body and the desk. her eyes, which were usually warm and inviting, now held a fiery intensity.

“well, watch this,” she said, closing the distance and pulling you into a violent kiss. the suddenness of her actions left you stunned for a moment, but as her lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t help but reciprocate the kiss with the same urgency. her lips were fierce, full of both frustration and a deep, hidden longing that you hadn’t acknowledged before.

your mind raced to catch up with the sudden shift. her lips were demanding, pressing against yours with an almost bruising fervor. her hands found their way to your waist as she pulled you closer, and her tongue caressed yours, sending tingles of pleasure up your spine.

finally nat pulled away, both of your breaths coming in ragged gasps. she searched your face for a reaction, as if unsure of what she had done or what to expect from you—but you could see the desire and confidence in her eyes.

“i bet you didn’t see that coming,” she remarked with a smug tone, her expression maintaining a serious demeanour as her gaze lingered on your lips once more.

“or this,” she whispered, her face descending as she placed a kiss along your jawline. her hands glided from your sides to the edge of your shorts in a tantalizing manner. “or this,” she continued in a hushed voice, her lips planting fervent kisses on your neck. all the while, her fingers delicately explored the border of your shorts, gently caressing and tugging; your response came in the form of a soft, involuntary groan escaping your lips.

but then, as abruptly as it began, she paused, lifting her lips from your neck. raising her head, she fixed her gaze intensely into your eyes.

"or..." her voice trailed off as her hand ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, fingers sliding in ever so slowly.

she held your gaze for a lingering moment. with your consent apparent in your eyes, she wasted no time, delicately resting two of her fingers atop your clothed clit. in deliberate, almost torturous movements, her fingers traced delicate circles, her touch sending a shiver down your spine. her face drew nearer, nuzzling against your cheek, warm breaths mingling with the sensitive skin of your neck.

involuntarily, your hips responded, aching for more friction. yet, the closer you drew to her, the gentler the pressure of her touch became, evading your attempts to intensify the sensation, leaving you yearning for more.

"harder," you groaned, your voice finding her ear.

"no," she murmured, her fingers tracing an exquisitely gentle path along your already damp cloth-covered folds.

“please,” you begged, your hips twitching as your arms reflexively grabbed around her torso, attempting to get her closer to you.

“y'want me to fuck you?” she questioned, a sharper edge to her tone compared to before.

“y–” you started, only to be interrupted.

“you want me to fuck you, just so that you can close your eyes and pretend it’s lottie, don’t you?” she asked, the pressure on your clothed center increasing, her eyes aflame with a fervent blend of anger and desire, a side of her you had never seen before.

"no, that's not—" you began, confusion etched across your face.

“yes, you do,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice husky. “but i’ll prove to you i’m better,” she declared, determination evident in her gaze.

in a swift motion, she withdrew her hand from your shorts, abruptly turning you around. her nimble fingers hastened to unfasten her jeans and underwear, letting them fall to the floor. with equal speed, your shorts and underwear followed suit.

she slowly placed her hands around your torso and drew you closer, her strap resting right against your slit. she slipped a hand beneath your shirt, one encircling your waist as the other ascended to your throat, exerting a slight pressure as she drew your body tightly against hers.

she began to give hot, wet kisses to the exposed back of your neck before slowly moving on to your ear and nibbling on it. you could only groan in response, your fingers clutching at her forearms on top of your shirt.

amid her nibbling, she shifted her gaze to the surveillance cameras, and noticed lottie giggling in the background. her hand that had been tightening around your throat now withdrew, granting her more freedom of movement. she directed your face toward hers, claiming your lips in a demanding, almost bruising kiss. her teeth sank into your lower lip with fervor as her hips ground against your slick, moist center. it wasn’t until she tasted the blood flowing out of your bottom lip that she pulled away.

“i want you to look at her while i fuck you,” she commanded, turning your face toward the monitors by gripping your jaw.

“what? no way,” you retorted, swift in your refusal.

“i’m not asking you,” she snapped, her hands propelling your body against the desk, the monitors now in clear view. "is that clear?" she asked, her fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head to face the monitor displaying lottie. you remained silent.

her free hand descended to her own strap-on, teasingly pressing it against your throbbing entrance. lowering her body onto yours, her heated breath whispered against your ear. "i asked, are we clear?" she repeated, her voice measured and stern.

“y-yes,” you gasped, the slight contact of her length against your slickness causing your senses to spin.

“good,” she murmured, nipping your jaw gently before rising, her hand sliding to your waist and gripping it firmly, while her other hand continued to hold your head in place. without further due, she slammed her entire length inside you, bottoming out and deliciously stretching your tight walls, which were too tight for the the size of her girth.

“shit, y/n, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” she groaned as her rhythm started to build. sliding in and out of you, her thrusts made your walls clench around her with each movement. you moaned as you felt the tip of her cock repeatedly stimulating your g-spot, prompting you to arch your hips backward in an attempt to take her even deeper.

“g-go rougher,” you pleaded, your attempts to go deeper falling short of your expectations.

“rougher?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice. “i’ll give you rough, then.” she released her hold on your hair, her hand finding its place on your lower back. with the other hand, she lifted one of your legs onto the desk, anchoring it there as she began thrusting with renewed vigor, burying her cock deeper and faster into you, the change in angle allowing her to.

“oh— ffuck, s’ fucking good” you moaned, your words pouring out in a rush as the sensation of her girthy cock gliding against your inner walls consumed your senses.

“lottie could never fuck you this good,” she declared as she increased her pace, the sound of wet slaps reverberating against the walls of the room. “could she?” she asked, the grip on your leg tightening enough to leave a mark.

“n-no, no, she could never,” you babbled out, slurring your words as you tried to answer coherently, barely processing her words. your moans grew louder as you felt her hand travel from your thigh to your clit, skillfully stimulating it while maintaining her deep thrusts.

“fuck, nat, m’ gonna cum,” you cried out in pleasure, pushing your body closer to her as the climax built within you. twisting your swollen clit between her fingers, she maintained her fervent rhythm, pressing you further towards the edge. her hand traced your waist, reaching your jaw, ensuring your teary gaze remained locked onto lottie.

she began to suck fervently on your neck, her thrusts growing more urgent. “i want you to cum while you look at her,” she commanded, prompting a whine of response from you.

“tell me i’m better than her,” she commanded, her hot breath teasing your neck as she marked it. “say it,” she insisted, pressing her fingers harder against your jaw while intensifying the pressure on your clit.

“you’re… you’re better,” you stammered, nearly incapable of coherent speech, a tear of pleasure tracing your cheek.

“better than who?” she teased, intensifying her suction on your neck.

“than lottie— better than lottie,” you finally admitted. that was all she needed to hear before sliding her tongue into your mouth and kissing you roughly, her tongue exploring your mouth deeply. her thrusts grew more aggressive, and as she reached her peak, warm streams of cum filled your tight walls, making you cry out in pleasure. your walls clamped down so tightly around her girth, that it was nearly impossible for her to continue thursting.

she remained there, her cock resting inside you as you both regained your breath. several minutes passed before she rose, removing her cock gently from within you and smoothly pulling up her pants, fastening them securely. at the same time, you managed to straighten up from the desk, struggling to steady your shaky legs as you pulled up your shorts.

"enjoy your time in p.e.," she playfully taunted, her gaze fixed on your wobbly legs and flushed cheeks as she settled back into her seat, an air of satisfaction surrounding her.

"will do! i'm sure i'll enjoy my time with lottie," you teased, well aware that your words would stir jealousy. with a mischievous grin, you snatched up the abandoned stopwatch and dashed out of the room.

"you'll regret saying that!" she shouted after you as you made your escape.

"i doubt it, joe goldberg!" your distant voice retorted, your footsteps fading into the distance.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

cy i have so many ideas its crazy 😭😭

when i was in high school i hated my chemistry classes 💀💀but now when i think about it... yk in some classrooms especially where biology and chemistry classes are held there is a small room attached to them like a storeroom? where they have all the equipment and supplies ? lmao this is already so long but i just needed to describe it, it gets better i promise

so like yesterday i randomly remembered one of my chemistry classes and suddenly i thought abt soob in those glasses like you know, the black ones ..him in a doctor's coat and..the other students are in class totally unaware of what two new teachers are doing in the storeroom😋😋damn just,, making out w him all while having ur knee between his crotch?? ordering him to be quiet or else everyone will find out what a slut their new chem teacher is (he'd secretly love it, we all know the boy is a slut for degradation and humiliation)😔he'd whimper soso much he wants more and he needs more, he's so riled up,, practically drooling but the fact that he can't have u fuck the brains out of him now makes him practically cry and beg to stop,, the pleasure is too much to handle☹️☹️(u could literally swear at him😭😭i bet he'd let out a couple of moans at that😴)

PLS THIS IS SO LONG,,,i couldn't stop myself cause begging soob>> idk whats gotten into me lately but ig i have a tiny thing for exhibitionism?😩😩no but fr its so hot?

p.s. im glaad ur here for the weekend 😭😭i'll patiently wait for ur official comeback ❣️

i saw this right when i woke up...and jesus, i love you so, so much because😵‍💫😵‍💫

are you, by chance talking abt this soob?...

him in a white lab coat😵‍💫😵‍💫

okay, okay

class started 10 minutes ago. the students are confused, checking the time, emailing their two new teachers to the class, some are even straight-up leaving, muttering about a waste of time

most stay, wondering if they just forgot or got stuff in traffic or something else

completely unaware to the fact that in the little storage closet off to the side of the room...

their pretty professor is shoved up against the wall, pinned with his arms beside his head, lip tugged between his teeth, panting and whining as he grinds down on your knee.

god, he's so needy, trying to quietly beg for more, gasping at the feeling of your teeth grazing his neck

"y'know, this isn't very professional professor choi," you start, pulling away, too composed when all he can do is let out the neediest little mewl, trying to reach his high while tears form in his eyes.

"d-don't care!" he tries to pull his hands away, cup himself and get the stimulation you're just barely giving him but your grip is iron strong, smile all too teasing and all too mean. "just m-make me feel good! please, wan', wan' you to fuck me!"

you press your thigh up against him hard. "right when all of our students are just outside, huh? want them to know that their professor is in here getting fucked like a slut?"

the moan he lets out is nothing less than completely ruined and very, very loud, reverberating through the small room in a way that would've been so hot if not where you were

his hand is free suddenly, as you slap a hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide. "shut up, you slut," you hiss,

the tears fall and you can feel drool building up behind your hand, he can't help himself, his head going on overdrive, his free hand gripping the bottom of your leg, fucking himself desperately against it.

"please, please, please," he whimpers, words garbled against your hand. "more, need more!"

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 6

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 7600

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Warnings: Language, Mutual Pining, A very mild jalapeno pepper in the beginning

Although this is an RPF, it is a character I created and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

-----

Sunlight filtered into the room through sheer curtains blowing in the gentle breeze. Birds chirped outside, greeting the day with a chorus of melodies. A peaceful sigh brushed the back of your neck. An arm wrapped around you, holding you close to the solid form behind you. A hand bordered on the edge of your shirt that must have ridden up during the night. Another grazed the back of your bare thigh, and another pressed hard against your ass. A soft moan escaped past your lips as you pressed further into it. You would have been content to stay here forever. Wait! Your eyes shot wide open. That was one too many hands.

You jolted from bed, now fully awake. Jensen grumbled but rolled over to the other side, not ready yet to face the day. Thankfully, it gave you enough time to get your shit together. Where were your pajama bottoms? You were a notorious chronic stripper. Always starting the night off with too many layers because you were cold, but as you started to warm up, thus commenced the unconscious removal of layers. It didn’t help that Jensen was hot. Like, temperature-wise. The guy was a fucking furnace. You weren’t concerned last night about it because you thought you’d be too anxious to sleep at all. Turns out you were so very wrong. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed.

Jensen sniffed, and the sheets rustled as he turned onto his back. The bedding became tented near the area you had believed was his third hand. Change of plans. You abandoned looking for your missing pajamas and opted for jeans and a sweatshirt. After a quick trip to the bathroom, you left on a mission to find breakfast and coffee, sure Jensen would appreciate the privacy to tackle the obvious, albeit impressive, situation on his own.

The town was bigger than Lebanon, but not by much. At least it was walkable. The downtown had one restaurant but didn’t open until eleven. Traffic was busy on the main stretch of the road, filled with trucks, semis, and livestock trailers. Tires squelched through puddles and mud. Across the way, loud mariachi music called travelers to a pop-up tent where there was a line of hungry patrons waiting. An intoxicating aroma of spices broke through the smell of cattle. You eagerly went to join the queue.

Forty minutes of walking, waiting in line, and waiting for food seemed like an appropriate amount of time to give Jensen. On the way back, to Anthony’s credit, you did peek into one of the empty rooms, which was completely stripped of wallpaper, carpet, and wood paneling. The furniture was pushed to one corner and covered with a plastic tarp. You knocked on your motel door. Jensen answered, having changed into black jeans and a Family Business t-shirt tie-dyed with bleach. His hair looked so soft, still free of product. It was the most unkempt you’d seen him, yet you craved to see more of his natural state. How he would appear on a lazy Saturday morning with no one to impress.

It was another morning with more uncertainty of how to start the day, of what to say, of what to address. Both of you stood there frozen in time, staring at each other. Though the storm had broke last night, a new one began to brew in the spaces between. There was a need to feel clouds clash against each other, to feel the shake of thunder, to watch lightning flash in each other’s eyes. It wasn’t only you who felt the flush of heat; Jensen’s cheeks visibly reddened, lost in the memory of a dream, wishing it had been reality. At any moment, the clouds would break, and the floodgates would release. Thankfully, you had the perfect solution.

“Breakfast burrito?” You held up the heavy paper bag as a barrier between the two of you. “I didn’t know what kind you would want, so I got one of each. There’s eggs and potatoes, eggs and chorizo, veggies…”

---

Jensen had taken the entire leg of the journey yesterday, so you insisted on starting the drive today. You rushed through, getting ready and eating breakfast, eager to leave the creepy motel behind. There was a minor traffic jam on 36, but it lasted only twenty minutes, and you were flying down the road once more.

Jensen finished his last sip of coffee. “Didn’t we listen to Led Zeppelin all of Thursday?”

You gasped. “This is Greta Van Fleet, you uncultured swine.”

It took him a second, but he got there. “Did you just insult me with a line from Toy Story?”

“It’s a good line.” You defended, “Why reinvent the wheel?”

“Uncultured,” He scoffed. “I’m not the one listening to a cheap knock-off.”

You continued the playful banter. “You sound exactly like all those cake-eaters on Reddit whose only knowledge of musical theory stemmed from listening to Entry of the Gladiators too many times at clown school. I enjoy it so I’m going to listen to it. Fuck the pretentious haters.”

Jensen chuckled silently, shaking his shoulders. “You’ve been holding that in for a while.”

You nodded your confirmation.

“Entry of the Gladiators?” He asked for clarification.

You used a series of “da da das” to sound out the melody of the iconic circus theme music.

“Ah, of course,” He recognized it not even halfway into the first stanza. “Who wouldn’t know that had a title other than ‘circus music?’ Clown school,” He chuckled again. “I’m going have to steal that line for future use.”

“It’s going to cost ya.” You warned.

“What’s the price?” He questioned.

You took your eyes off the road, studying his face. His finger was brushing against his lower lip as if offering them up freely as compensation. A wave of anticipation coursed throughout your body, landing in your toes. As you leaned closer, testing if he would meet you, you chickened out instead and adjusted the volume before focusing back on the road.

“The price is your admission that this is actually a decent song and that you’re somewhat intrigued.” You settled.

Jensen had not yet pulled away from leaning in. “Oh, I’m intrigued, alright.” He admitted but was talking about an entirely unrelated matter.

It was not even two hours once you hit the Colorado border, but this entire trip had felt like a lifetime of trying to reach an unknown destination that was finally in sight. The wooden sign read ‘Welcome to Colorful Colorado.’ The car slowed to a stop on the road’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Jensen complained. “We’ve already taken a hundred pictures this trip.”

But you were already halfway out of the car, bounding into the tall grass and wildflowers to get closer to the sign. “We’ve taken three!”

“Be careful!” He warned. “You’re going to get bit by a rattlesnake or infested with ticks.”

“Well then, you better come over here and protect me. I'm sure a big, strong Texan such as yourself ain't afraid of no rattlesnake."

The grass swished against his calves as he came closer.

“As for the ticks,” You continued, bravery rising up. “We’ll have to turn on some country music and see what Brad Paisley advises for those.”

He raised his arm above his head, leaned against the wooden post, and looked down at you. The intensity of his gaze normally would have made you turn and run or, at the very least, create a distraction to diffuse the tension. Instead, you stepped closer, a whisper away from him. The sun shone through the gap between.

Gravel and tires met as another car slowed, pulling off the road behind yours. Three girls piled out of the car, laughing and squealing at each other. Fuck. You stepped away from him.

“Hey,” One of the girls called. “We’ll take your photo if you take ours!”

“So it begins,” Jensen mumbled under his breath.

You didn’t understand why until they stepped closer. You raised your hand to shield the sun from your eyes. One girl was dressed in a plaid flannel shirt over a black tank, the anti-possession tattooed on their chest, one in a shirt that had the side profile of the Impala that read ‘The Winchester Brothers’ like it was an advertisement, the third’s shirt was just Jensen’s face everywhere in the style of a 90’s album cover.

The shock of realization crossed their faces slowly and then all at once.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” One repeated over and over while simultaneously hitting her friend’s shoulder.

The one subject to the abuse just stood there, mouth hanging open as if her brain was having trouble computing the reality of the event. The third gulped, wide-eyed, and turned a hundred and eighty degrees walking back to the car.

You snickered and whispered to Jensen, “Fight, flight, freeze.”

He snorted but then recomposed himself, calling over to them. “Y’all don’t happen to be traveling to Denver for a certain convention now, are ya?”

“Oh my god,” The fighter repeated again. “I told you it was going to be worth it.” She pulled the fleeing friend by her collar back to the group. “I told you!” She then directed to Jensen, “We’re huge fans of the show.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled as if the shirts didn't give it away.

The frozen one thawed. “Were you in Lebanon, like literally yesterday!?!”

“Sure was.” He said. “Did you see my note?”

Two of them squealed while the other said, “We must have been like an hour or two behind you.”

“Well, we are all here now. Should we get a picture or something?” He suggested.

“Oh my gosh! Yes, Please!” The one in the Impala shirt gushed.

You offered to take the photo, and as you were receiving instructions, one of them asked you, “So, are you like his… cousin? Assistant?”

Jensen was yacking it up with the other two girls. You looked him up and down, not sure what to define it as. Caught somewhere in between. Wondering if it would cement into something more. But then it hit you. This road trip was almost over. You were leaving him by the end of the day. You’d go back to your life and he to his. Who knew the next time you’d be able to see each other, let alone work on a relationship? If that’s even what he wanted. Was it what you wanted? Honestly, the guy might be looking for a quick fling. Again, was that something you wanted? Jensen felt your gaze and met it; his lips pressed together. Your brain spun from overthinking.

“Friends,” You sputtered out. “We’re just friends.”

Relief radiated from the girl, but you were more focused on Jensen, wondering if that sigh was a hint of disappointment. But god dammit! If he wanted something more, he was going to have to be the one to bring it up! Several pictures later of the group and singles, Jensen realized he needed to take control of the situation, or he’d never leave.

“Alright, alright.” He attempted to settle them. “I didn’t do my hair today, but one of those has to be decent, and there’s a dinner I gotta catch tonight.” He looked at his watch to sell that he was running behind.

They thanked him profusely, trying to draw out the moment as much as possible.

“Actually, can you get one real quick of me and… my friend… before we head out.” He asked.

Oooh. Was that as intentionally backhanded as it felt?

“Get over here.” He impatiently waved you over. “Wait, actually, do you have your phone? I think I left mine in the car.”

You nodded and handed it over to one of the girls, knowing fully well that his phone was in his back pocket; he just had the common sense not to hand his phone over to random fans. (Unless he was very drunk per your first encounter). Although you had been the initial one to want a photo, now that you had an audience, you didn’t know how to act. One of the girls had her phone out as well, possibly recording the interaction. You stood next to his side with your body angled towards him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. The girl with your phone counted down before snapping a pic.

“No, no, no.” Jensen complained and reset. “This feels too photo op-y.” He adjusted his jeans as he squatted down. “Hop up.”

“What? Jensen!” You protested.

“Don’t ‘What, Jensen’ me.” He argued. “You did it yesterday, and it was cute, and I’d like a picture.” He tried to encourage you with the wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t get all shy on me now. One way or another, I’m getting you in the air for a picture, whether willingly or over the shoulder with just your ass in the frame, which I wouldn’t complain….”

“Fine, fine.” You chuckled as you gave in to his demand.

His knees popped as he lifted you quickly, and you bounced in the air.

“Gentle,” You scolded. “I’m not paying for your knee replacement surgery.”

“Smart ass.” He bit his lower lip and pinched the underside of your thigh.

You shrieked with laughter, and Jensen turned to look up at you.

“Oh, that is adorable.” The girl called, taking a few candid shots.

“Just friends?” Another mumbled though the two of you were not privy to the conversation.

The third agreed. “How much you wanna bet he’s going to make an announcement tomorrow he’s off the market?”

“I’m not betting on a hand already lost.”

After several more moments of thanks and prolonging the experience, you finally made to part ways. You and Jensen sat in the rental. As you waited for the girls to take off, Jensen saying something about not wanting to be followed the whole way to Denver, you played with the filters on the photos and sent the best ones to Jensen. He then added the one of him next to the sign in Lebanon to Instagram. Later as he was driving down the freeway, you read the whole thing: If there was one word to describe this year so far, that word would be unexpected. The start was unexpectedly filled with chaos and turmoil, as most of you know, though maybe I should have seen it coming. But these last few months have taught me unexpected isn’t always a bad thing. It can come in the form of unexpected kindness from strangers, unexpected friendships, unexpected journeys, unexpected mysteries, and unexpected healing. All of which has led me spontaneously and unexpectedly back home. Oh, home, let me come home.

Though he had driven all of yesterday and you only had a couple of hours in today, he insisted on seeing you through to Denver. Though he teased you over your deplorable and sometimes downright terrifying driving, you thought it was really because he wanted to reinforce the driver picks the music rule. (You weren’t ‘that’ bad of a driver). It was sole stubbornness that kept him from admitting he liked Greta Van Fleet or confusing them for Zeppelin in the first place. Instead, he went for an indie playlist of his featuring bands like Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros, The Flaming Lips, and Beach House.

The drive continued ever onward, and though Colorado did have some rolling hills, the bare wasteland and fields you had become accustomed to over the past few days drew you to the brink of insanity.

“Hey, Jensen.” You said.

“Yeah?”

“Clouds or Mountains?”

He thought on it for a second. “Clouds.”

Sure enough, he was right.

A half-hour, he prompted you. “Hey, Y/N.”

You only humphed a response.

“Clouds or mountains?”

“Clouds,” you grumbled.

A few minutes later and a new shape emerged on the horizon.

He asked again, “Clouds or mountains.”

You whined again. “Clouds.” And sighed a deep sigh before quoting, “I want to see mountains again. Mountains Gandalf! And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book.”

Jensen chuckled. “I always forget how big of a nerd you are. We should watch those movies together sometime.”

“Yeah, we should!” You concurred. “We can marathon them and have a hobbit day where we follow the meal schedule and everything. Breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon….” You listed off. “Tomatoes, sausages, nice crispy bacon,” You impersonated a few more quotes. “Malt beer, ripe meat of the bone.”

His stomach grumbled. “Ah, man, I'm hungry just thinking about it.”

“How?” You giggled. “You had three breakfast burritos.”

“Two and a half.” He defended.

“Hold on,” You said before unclicking your seatbelt and shuffling to the back. “What do you want?”

His tongue flashed over his bottom lip. After his dreams last night, you were the only snack he was concerned with. God, how he wished he had a few more days. Perhaps canceling on the con so you could keep driving wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You could just keep heading to Vancouver. He’d make it to set on time. Most likely. Okay, if he was able to have his way with you two days late, but it would be so worth it. You reoriented yourself in the front with your stash. “Goldfish, Pringles, and we still have a few pretzels.”

He was going to make his move tonight. He didn’t want to wait any longer. He was ready to take things to the next step. He was glad to have you as a friend, but he wanted more. From the moment you slid in next to him all those months ago at the brewery, he knew he was a fucking goner. Sure, at that time, he was as drunk as Jimmy Buffet in Margaritaville, but that instinct hadn’t lied to him. It held and only grew. It had taken him these past months and this road trip to build up this decision, to finally have the courage to act on it. He just wasn’t quite sure how to initiate it yet.

“Hey,” You called him from his thoughts. “You gotta help me with these. I really only want to take the granola and trail mix up with me to Estes Park.”

His heart immediately sank. Maybe he didn’t understand or hear you right. “Estes Park?”

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “I actually got an unbelievable deal at the Stanley Hotel. You know, Stephen King’s inspiration for The Shining. Like such a good deal, the ghosts may be luring me there. So I may call you in a panic tonight and probably should get some salt on the way up. Oh man, how awesome would it be if you and Jared stayed there and made a little ghost hunter special? But I figured you’d be busy with the con all weekend, and we wouldn’t get to see each other much anyways, so I might as well make the most of being out in Colorado and hike the Rockies while I’m out here.” You rambled.

“Right.” His heart stayed in his stomach, remembering your early conversation about what you told your friends, not realizing it was a partial truth to them. “Cause how else are you going to have your meet-cute with some handsome lumberjack unless you trip over his fallen log?”

He meant it as a joke, but disappointment twisted inside you. So the kiss had been a fluke, and this morning was just a natural reaction. He wasn’t interested. It made sense. More so than what you had thought.

“Exactly.” You said.

Friends. You thought. Just friends, he thought, and his cheeks flushed. Simultaneously, you both swallowed a lump in your throat. The ride from there on was quiet. There was an obvious tension in the air. Not like the storm waiting to break as was before. No, this was more like when your grandfather brought up politics on Thanksgiving. At least you had other rooms to escape to then.

You played on your phone a bit, tried, and failed to read. The motion of the car and focusing on the stationary words was too much for your brain to process. Jensen seemed lost in thought. Like he wanted to say something but never was able to work it out. Maybe if you could tell him how you were feeling. Just let it all out. That you didn’t know how much longer you could handle the ‘just friends’ thing. It was pretty easy when thousands of miles separated you, but being so close together, it was near impossible to deny your emotions. At any moment, they could explode out of you. But you didn’t want to risk it. Didn’t want to make a mistake and lose him altogether.

“Hey, Y/N?” Jensen pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?” You responded hopeful.

“Clouds or mountains?”

It was not what you wanted to hear, but at least some of the tension had lifted. You squinted and took in the hazy purple shape in the distance. After a few moments of analysis, your eyes widened. You softly and repeatedly slapped his shoulder in excitement.

“That’s a fucking mountain bitch!” You squealed in delight.

He laughed boisterously.

“We made it!” You proclaimed.

Jensen slipped into a British accent in an attempt to impersonate David Attenborough. But it came out more gentler, more breathy, and a higher pitch than his usual deep voice.

“After years of endless searching, the pair of travelers laid eyes upon their destination. The high peaks of the mountains are a stark contrast to the flat sea of plains they had battled tirelessly through.”

You melted, and a high whine sounded in the back of your throat. Jensen glanced at you and bit his lower lip as you quickly recomposed yourself. It was such a sweet and delicate noise. He wanted more.

“Little did they realize, the end of the great migration is only the beginning. The female will depart from the male to venture further into the hills, gathering resources for the nest. All the while, the male will be left defenseless against hoards of a terrifying new threat. Fangirls. If either of them survives the next perilous chapter, it will be nothing short of a miracle.”

He was unsuccessful at coaxing another whimper from you, but your giggle was just as pleasurable.

“Oh my god,” You chastised him with a chuckle. “You’ll be fine. You secretly feed off the praise and attention even though you act like a complete grump.”

“And what about you?” He asked. “I know you packed an entire walk-in closet, but do you have bear spray?”

“Bear spray?” You furrowed your brow.

He rolled his eyes at your lack of unpreparedness. “What about water? Do you have a camel pack?”

“I’m sure my water bottle will be just fine.”

He scoffed. “First aid? Gauze if you get a cut or need to make a splint?”

“Jensen,” You stopped him. “I’m going on popular trails part of the National Parks Service. If I run into any trouble, I’m sure there will be plenty of people around to help. If not a handsome lumberjack, perhaps a park ranger.” You added for the spite of it.

He clenched his jaw, trying his hardest to ignore the jab. “No, we are stopping at an Arc’teryx or, or Patagonia or something. Make sure you have all you need.”

Was he panicking? “Jensen,” You said his name again, hoping to ground him. “I have everything I need. I’ll be fine. I’ve hiked before. There lot’s of places back home.”

“But this is, like, the actual mountains.” He continued to argue. “Wild terrain, no cell service, bears, cougars…”

Your laugh cut him off. “I think you should be more worried about cougars this weekend than me.”

"This is serious, Y/N." He groaned.

"I'll be fine. I promise." You affirmed.

"Will you…" He started. He didn't want to be overbearing, and he knew you were fiercely capable and independent, but anxiety was getting the best of him. "Will you just text in the morning and when you make it back, so I know you're okay?"

"I'm sure you'll hardly be able to check your phone, but yes, I'll text you." You agreed.

"And take lots of pictures, so I can live vicariously through you." He added.

“Deal!”

The last leg of the journey remained quiet and calm, Jensen’s indie playlist providing a soft ambiance, even as the skyline grew heavier with angular earth jutting into the heavens. Even as Denver grew from a speck reflection of sunlight to a concrete jungle, neither of you could think of what to say. Your gold necklace glinted in the side view mirror, and the orange sun streaked across your face.

You had arranged with a rental company to come meet you at the hotel where the convention was taking place. That way, Jensen would still have a car, though you figured he may have a driver for the event itself. For the first time in this journey, an active map with actual directions had been pulled up to navigate the way through the city. Though now you were wishing you had encouraged his earlier plan to keep heading west. As the minutes counted down to arrival, your hearts grew evermore tender knowing soon they’d be parted.

Jensen pulled into a roundabout, a fountain in its center flowing into a garden of roses, through the archway leading to the hotel entrance. He put the car in park, but the engine ran idle. Both of you stared directly ahead, not quite believing the trip where time stood still was finally over.

An intrusive vibrating buzzed into the quiet. You looked down at your phone, notifying you the pick-up was here, as a black Malibu drove under the awning next to you.

“That’s my ride.” You said defeated.

Jensen nodded, and as the trunk behind you popped open, his door creaked as he exited the vehicle. You studied the lines in your hands as they lay in your lap, wondering if they held any insight into your fortune. If you could read them, perhaps they could guide you forward. But all you could do was sit with that same feeling as the morning you first left him. The trunk next to you slammed shut, signaling it was time to go. You scrambled out of the car but froze, facing Jensen, trying to discern the look on his face, not knowing it mirrored yours.

“Well…” He bumped his fists together. “This is it.”

“Yeah.” You agreed.

“Be safe.”

You let out a half-hearted laugh. “You too.”

Jensen pounced. It happened so fast your brain couldn’t process it until it had already happened. His lips worked hard against yours as you met his claiming pace. One hand wrapped around your waist, pressing you against his hard frame. The other wound around the back of your neck, leaving no room for escape. Your fists clenched the fabric of his shirt with such strength at any moment, it could tear. Gravity had no hold here as it felt like you were floating far above the atmosphere. Harsh clashes drew out into savoring breaths, and when you finally pulled apart, you found you were out of air entirely.

You looked up at him, your noses nearly grazing.

Ask me to stay, your eyes pleaded.

Please, stay. His heart begged.

Someone nearby cleared their throat, and you took a step back, color flooding your cheeks. Yet, still, there were no words to say to each other.

The Enterprise driver rolled down their window. “Lady, I got a schedule to run.”

“Right, of course,” You snapped back to reality as time and gravity came rushing back with an oppressive force.

Jensen rubbed his lower lip as if waking up trying to remember a dream.

“Thank you?” It came out as a question.

You didn’t know what you were thanking him for. The kiss, driving, paying for the hotels, maybe everything. Had you ever thanked someone after they kissed you? More people were around the entrance now; some under the awning, some looking through the glass windows of the lobby, and more than one had their phones out. Your chest began to tighten, and your vision blurred. Your mind grew evermore blank the harder you fished for something else to say.

His brow creased, and he tilted his head slightly. “You’re welcome?”

A high voice called his name, followed by another, and then a tank of a man came barreling over, mumbling to Jensen the need to check his phone more frequently. That he wasn’t about to have another Nashville on his hands. Without another word, you got into the car and drove away. Jensen’s eyes stayed fixed on you until the car was out of view.

---

The view on the way to Estes Park should have been stunning, breathtaking, and spectacular, but you were two-for-two. Two-for-two on leaving Jensen at a hotel and crying on your way to your next destination. And it was stupid. You shouldn’t be crying. You should be elated. It probably had something to do with tuning into a radio station playing that dreaded Neil Diamond song you couldn’t seem to escape.

He kissed you. Like, kissed you, kissed you. There was no mistaking it this time. Yet, he didn’t ask you to stay. He didn’t say anything. You knew what you wanted at this point. You wanted him. You wanted to try and make some sort of relationship work despite the distance, despite his status, despite everything. But you were going to leave it in his hands. He had to decide what he wanted and then fucking communicate it to you. With actual words, though, the lips had been enjoyable.

You chewed on your thumb, thinking things over. Maybe you should turn around and head back. Give him an opportunity to actually say what he was thinking. But then again, he was going to be so busy this weekend that you wouldn’t have time with him anyways. No. You were staying the course. You were a brave, independent woman and didn’t need to be hung up about some guy. When you booked this trip, you wanted to see ghosts at The Stanley and you wanted to see the mountains. So by god, that was what you were going to do. If he had anything to say, he could come find you.

The Stanley was impressive, to say the least. It had a glamor to it, feeling as if it stood still in a bygone era. The ghost tour was fun and spooky, and you even managed to catch an orb on camera, despite the rule, ‘no videos allowed.’ Though it felt lonely. You kept thinking of quick remarks to say to Jensen or feeling the same chill down your spine or how he’d undoubtedly say your orb was just a spec of dust yet secretly keep a box of salt close by that night.

Sleep was impossible. It wasn’t the scratching on walls or the footsteps above, even though you were on the top floor, or the swinging chandelier. It was the fact that he hadn’t called or texted. And yes, despite your horrible cell reception on the road trip here, you did, in fact, pay for cellular service. And it seemed to working just fine as you reconnected with friends and family ensuring them you arrived to Colorado in one piece.

You don’t kiss someone like that and not follow up! You buried your head under a pillow. You also don’t kiss someone like that and thank them. What had you been thinking? You weren’t thinking that was the problem. Possibly even had a panic attack given by the growing crowd. No wonder he hadn’t called you. What was he supposed to think? You tried to rationalize the thought process. You had shown gratitude towards the action, thus indicating you appreciated the gesture. But even you didn’t buy that.

An icy caress crept up your spine, sending shivers throughout your body, and you reached your breaking point.

You shot straight up. “Can’t you tell I am being haunted enough by my own idiocy!” Perhaps it was your own imagination, but the creaking floorboards seemed to settle, and warmth flooded back. “Thank you!”

You laid back down and pulled your phone out, staring at his number, the photos being the last thing you sent. You had to put a feeler out there.

‘Thanks again for an amazing trip! If you’re looking for a buddy on your next road trip, let me know. And don’t worry, the ghosts here are all bark, though I can’t say the same for those in room 217.’

You slammed your phone on the one-night stand and prayed sleep would find you.

Morning came quickly, too quickly. Your alarm cheerfully chimed you awake though you did not meet it with the same attitude. After hitting snooze twice, you regretted your decision to wake up early and beat the crowds. The sheets crinkled as you reached over, searching for Jensen, only to remember he wasn’t there. The realization was enough to get you moving instead of what you really wanted, opting for a lazy morning in bed with him.

Though it had been a struggle to pry yourself free from the bed, it had been the right call. Prime parking was still available at the head of the trail, which was starting to fill in even at this ungodly hour. The trail up to the Sky Pond was going to be a long one but worth it, or so you kept telling yourself. You double-checked your supplies, ensuring you had enough water, food, and a compass. To Jensen’s credit, you probably could have been more prepared, but you also didn’t want to be weighed down. You snapped a few pictures of the map at the start of the trail, just in case. It would all be fine.

Two hours into the hike and you had convinced yourself you made the right call. The landscape and views were astonishingly serene. There was peace and euphoria blowing like wind through branches, rushing like rapids of a river, sweetly singing like birds in the breeze, gasping like the lack of air in your lungs, dripping like the sweat on your brow. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but you just needed a second wind. It would be worth it, you repeated. And you were only thinking about Jensen every 500 feet or so. Progress. You had already passed Alberta Falls, and it had been spectacular. There was something healing about the sound of water. There was more to come, and it would be worth it, repeating the mantra of the day.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, so too did the heat of the day. Conserving water throughout the hike was essential, but staying hydrated was just as important. You guzzled down another few sips. As you rounded a bend, you hesitated, seeing the ascent. The backpack bearing weight on your shoulders grew heavier, and you adjusted the straps. Your breaths deepened, and a few crude words muttered from your lips as you prepared for the climb. If Nesta could do it, so could you.

Your legs shook as you started, already weary from the elevation gain. You wondered what it would be like at the convention right now. Would you be hanging out with Jensen? Meeting his friends and coworkers? Or would you just be milling about, waiting for the day to be over? Probably the latter. He had asked you to text in the morning, but he hadn’t even responded to your message last night. He was probably too busy with the day. Or just as confused about the kiss as you. The first time it happened, you didn’t talk about it, so why would now be any different? Whatever the situation, you bet if you were still in Denver, it would include air conditioning, less sweat, and the opportunity to read. But you could read at the lake and cool your feet off. If you ever got there. The mental games were becoming as big of a hurdle as the physical limits.

You were too in your head that when you hit the next rock, your foot missed it entirely. Landing on the step below, your foot slipped out from under you, and you came crashing down on your hip with a big thud.

“Fuck!” You cursed and then hissed through your teeth.

“Woah!” A voice called in the distance, and the sound of heavy boots beat against the rocky steps. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

You braced yourself to get up and were met with a helping hand. The green pants and khaki shirt were a dead giveaway for a park ranger. He was tall and broad with dark brown curls and soft whiskey eyes. His skin was darkened from days in the sun. And unlike you, he was barely breaking a sweat.

“Yeah.” You winced as he helped pull you up. “Wasn’t watching my step.”

“At least you can stand.” He said, “But let’s take a look anyways.” He crouched down beside you. “A few scrapes and you’ll definitely have a bruise. Can you twist your ankle?” You did as he instructed. “Bend the knee.”

You looked down as he tenderly applied pressure to certain areas. You confirmed the scrapes from the few bright red streaks traveling down your calve and brushed at the dirt that ran your whole length.

“All looks to be in working order.” He assessed, brushed off his hands, and started digging through his pack. “I have acetaminophen.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” You gladly accepted it and washed it down with water.

“Here.” He took his water bottle and ran it down your leg, clearing the cuts of debris. “You’ll want to clean that better once you’re finished for the day, but you should be fine until then. Where are you hiking up to?” He asked.

“Sky pond.”

“Ah, me too, actually.” He took his hat off to fan himself and ran his hand through his bouncy curls. “Someone has been messing with the trail cams up there, and I gotta reset them. Mind if I join you?” Maybe it was because you pursed your lips, he quickly added. “If not, I’ll hang back for a while and create some distance. It’s so peaceful out here I wouldn’t want to ruin…”

“No. It’s cool, we can hike together. Though I’m probably slower than you’re used to.” You said.

“Oh, I love a leisurely pace. So much to take in. Maybe even catch sight of the bear I keep hearing about.”

“Bears?” You raised your brows. “Yeah, you can definitely stick around.”

As you hiked onward, you learned a little about each other. Where each other were from, family, careers, hobbies. He moved out from Maine recently, but being stationed in the Rockies had always been a dream of his. The ascent finally leveled out a bit, and you were able to catch your breath.

“You have a partner back home?” He asked.

You chuckled.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… complicated.” You explained.

“Hold that thought.” He said. “There’s an excellent view back here most people don’t know about.”

He started in through the woods.

“So much for staying on the trail rule.”

He looked back and winked. “Perks of traveling with a ranger.”

“Definitely not impersonating one and preying on single hikers.” You teased but also voiced the concern in the back of your mind.

“And disgrace the badge? Never.” He smiled.

“I do have bear spray.” You lied and gripped your shoulder straps tighter.

“Well, I’m glad I came across you. I left mine down at the station. If we did come across B 712 I was going to yell real loud and hope for the best.” He teased back.

Despite the warning bell in your head, you continued onward, following him further from the main path. The forest cleared to a rocky cliffside overlooking a massive gorge carved from the very glacier this trail was named after. It made you feel so insignificantly small and at the very top of the world all at the same time.

“Wow.” Was all that came to your mind.

“Ah, don’t get too close to the ledge now.” His arm went in front of you like a mother who braked in the car too hard. “If you slip here, well…” He peered over the steep ledge.

You took out your phone and scanned the area with the lens. “Pictures never do it justice.” You said disappointed.

“I never get sick of the view.” He stated. “You should come back when the colors change, it looks like the valley is on fire. Sorry, you were saying earlier?”

“Right. Yeah, no…” You were flustered, wondering how much to share. “It’s just I really like this guy, and I think he likes me too, most of the time anyway. But I don’t know what he wants. And I don’t want to get hurt. So I’m kinda stuck in this pining phase, and I don’t know how to get out of it until he’s ready. I’m not making sense.”

“Hmm.” He pondered. “I mean, I’ve known you for twenty minutes I can say with certainty he likes you back.”

You rolled your eyes at the pass. “No, it's different. He’s like a big deal. Like a big fish in the ocean, and I’m a trout in a pond.”

“First of all,” He stopped you. “I hate that analogy with a passion. Second, If you’ve put him on a pedestal and he’s reinforced that in any way or hasn’t corrected that, he is not worth the time of day. No matter where you are in your walk of life, comparing yourself to other people never ends well. And using that comparison to deflate your own worthiness or happiness is going to lead to a self-fulling prophecy of missed opportunity.”

Wow, that was deep and stung a little. “Are you really a park ranger or a psychologist?” You teased.

“I listen to a lot of Brene Brown podcasts.” He admitted. “What, it gets lonely hiking up here all the time; gotta do something to keep the mind busy. You said he likes you; what makes you think that?”

“Shall I lay on this bolder while you connect this back to my relationship with my mother?” You gestured to the rock next to you.

“Fine, fine.” He retreated. “I have a knack for wanting to fix things; car engines, relationships, trail cams. Let me say this, and now that I’ve creeped you out enough, I’ll let you hike in peace, but you said you don’t know what he wants, but have you asked him?”

“Well… I…” You stuttered. “I’m waiting for him.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Because that’s what you do. The guy asks the girl. He makes the moves.”

He scoffed. “I guess that’s fine. I didn’t take you as being so old-fashioned.”

“I’m not old-fashioned.” You scoffed back.

He raised his hands in surrender. “It’s not a bad thing if that's what you want.”

“No, it’s just… this is in his court. It’s his move.” How could you explain the situation without giving it away?

“Two-for-two with the horrible analogies.” He pushed.

Oh, he was getting on your nerves. “He’s an actor! Okay! Like a somewhat recognizable one. And I’m just,” You gestured to yourself. “A nobody, covered in dirt.”

“Oooh. So it is the pedestal thing. Man, I’m good!” He leaned against a pine and crossed his arms smugly. “The way I see it, if you like him, and he’s given you all the signals back, you need to get over your own insecurities and open up a channel of communication, or you're going to be stuck in that small pond forever.”

Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. “How?” You whispered.

“Simple. Tell him how you feel and ask him the same, ask him what he wants.” He suggested.

“And what if, what if he doesn’t want what I want? What if I lose him altogether?”

“It’s a risk, but do you really want to be trailing behind him forever? Putting your whole life on hold while you wait for him to catch up?” He pushed. “‘Sides, you know where I’m stationed, and I’ll make my intentions clear from the beginning.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “What’s your name?”

His grin widened, showing off his canines. “Why, you going to report me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You stamped your foot. “You are obviously entitled to a raise. I bet you find all the single hikers and help them with their existential crises.”

“It keeps me busy.” He bit his bottom lip. “The name’s Dean. You?”

You scoffed. Of course, it was. “Y/N. I think I’ll let you continue on your own from here.”

“I understand. I came on too heavy.” He sighed. “Should’ve stuck to the surface-level topics.”

“No, it’s not that.” You said. “It’s just I’m heading in the opposite direction now.”

You weren’t going to wait to keep hashing it out with him. A new determination had sparked. The branches snapped underneath your feet as you started the way back to the main trail. You wondered how fast you could run down a mountain.

“Hey, take it easy,” Dean called after you. “I don’t want to come back on the trail tonight to find you twisted an ankle on the way down. Where are you off to so fast anyways? Really taking those words to heart.”

“Denver.” You shouted back. “There’s a con I gotta get to.”

-----

Continue to Part 7 Here!

GHTTC Tags: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510

[purplesurveys]

1906

Are any of your friendships on a fine line? No, I feel very secure with the circle I have, as much smaller as it's gotten over the years.

If I search your room will I find birth control? No but from my room you will hear my neighbors who for some reason seem to have 10 fucking kids under one roof just screeching all day, which also works as birth control.

Do you expect any of your ex’s to call or text you? Her, setting her pride down to reach out first? Not in this lifetime.

Have you ever witnessed a birth? Nope.

Where’s your favorite place to be when you feel depressed? I like being either in my bed, in my car parked somewhere away, or in a coffee shop.

Are you currently looking forward to tomorrow? Only because it'll still be the weekend then, but we don't necessarily have any plan set for tomorrow.

When was the last time you held someone’s hand? Maybe a few weeks ago when I held Angela's hand.

Have you ever faked sick? Sure but very sparingly. I hate lying, and since I don't file many leaves anyway I usually just use my normal vacation leaves.

Do you wear hoodies to bed? Absolutely never, unless it's Jan/Feb.

Are you currently wearing jeans? No. The weather here is constantly hot and humid so after a day of wearing jeans I usually want them off of me as soon as possible lol.

Do you buy eggnog around the holidays? I've never had eggnog and it's not at all a staple in this part of the world. I personally find it appetizing though and would like to try it at least once.

Have you gone to a coffee shop within the past week? [i.e. Starbucks] Yes, I was just in one a couple of hours ago.

Would you like to be able to read thoughts? It would be terrible if it ran 24/7 lmao, but it would be convenient to have that ability when I need to understand someone better.

Are you often the last one to understand a joke? Hehehe, sometimes yeah...

Your first black eye: Did you give it or get it? What's with black eyes and why is this the second consecutive survey to mention them lol? Anyway, I've never had it and I've never given it.

Do you think baseball is a dying professional sport in America? I don't think so? Isn't the Ohtani guy still huge over there? In any case, at least in the eyes of a foreigner, American sports still scream baseball and American football to me.

Does playing the guitar make a guy more attractive? Not to me.

Have you ever slept in a tent, indoors or out? I've slept in a tent outdoors but it was super tame. It wasn't in the middle of the forest or anything like that, and it was just held in school as an overnight activity lmao.

What does your hair look like at the moment? Acceptable.

Are you mad right now? No, just tired.

Who did you spend your summer with last year? My work.

Did you eat a cookie today? Not today but yesterday.

Have you heard of wreck this journal? Yes. I so wanted one when I was a teenager, but I never got one because I knew I was nowhere near creative enough to make something artsy out of it.

Do you know any one who lives in California? That's like one of the migration hotspot states for Filipinos lmao. I know tons of people who've moved there or who vacation there.

Have you ever been told you were a good writer? Yes.

What do you put on your baked potatoes? Uh, just bacon and cheese. I don't have baked potatoes much.

Have you ever been on a farm? Sure.

Last three texts on your phone are from? All related to work as I don't use text for much else.

What are you listening to? I can hear my fan whirring and birds chirping while taking refuge on my aircon. :)

Are you one to take naps? No. I find sleeping to be a waste of time looooool; my free time is very very precious to me and I want to spend as much of it as possible catching up on the things I like doing the most.

Did you ever have braces? I had them but didn't wear my retainers frequently enough so they got crooked again, so I currently have them again for round two lol.

Have you kissed anyone in the last five days? Nope.

Are you afraid of flying? No. I like being on airplanes. Of course watching videos of plane crashes makes me feel terrible, but I try not to think of the possibility when I do fly.

Do you have freckles? I don't.

Do you have plans for today? Just this and maybe playing my game. I just want to do nothing for as long as I can hahaha.

Would you rather date someone five years older or five years younger than you? Older. I don't know if I can manage a 21 year old...

Why aren’t you texting the last person you kissed? We haven't talked in nearly four hours; we just don't need to anymore.

If you had to live off one type of fruit, which would you pick? Probably avocado.

What were you doing at 7:45AM this morning? Fast asleep.

What was the last thing you drank? Coffee that was way too strong haha. My chest was on overdrive for a while but fortunately it's mellowed down a bit now.

Where did you get the shirt your wearing? Zara.

Do you plan on sleeping in tomorrow? No. 

How often do you drink Monster? I've never had it.

Are you easy to get along with? I try to be, but I understand how I could be difficult to crack at first. I've just learned to be more guarded with my boundaries, that's all.

Are you short? 5'1".

Can you ever get enough of mac ‘n’ cheese? The taste does get tiring eventually, especially if I got a big serving; but it's great while I'm still enjoying it haha.

Are you allergic to nuts or dairy products? Not allergic, but I am lactose intolerant so I always need to get alternatives for my milk.

Do you have trust issues? Yes.

Is there someone you want to let go of? Nobody. I've never had a problem cutting off who needs to be cut off.

Do you think age matters in relationships?  Personally, it does.

Do you have any regrets? Sure.

Has anyone ever called the cops on you? Nope.

How old are you? 26.

Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? Nah.

Do you go to church every Sunday? I do with my family. I don't really have a choice until I'm able to move out. I never pay attention though and just use the hour to daydream.

Can you recall the last time you liked someone? I guess, yeah. It was four years ago since I last had feelings like that.

Do you like your height? It'll be cool to be a little taller, but it's not something I'm actively conscious about.

Is the last person of the opposite sex you texted single? Discounting work texts, the last guy I talked to isn't.

Could you go a week without brushing your teeth? Absolutely not.

What day is it? Saturday.

Are you usually awake at midnight? I am, yeah.

Does it get really cold where you live? Maybe in like January or February, but that's it.

When you get home from school / work do you change into your pjs right away? Not always right away, because sometimes I'm too tired to do anything else. Those times, I'd just change right before I go to bed.

Have you ever been peer pressured to smoke pot? There was never any peer pressure; me trying it once was my own decision.

Have you ever played the game Sims 3? I don't think I have.

What is the temperature currently in the town you live in? 29C.

Do you ever actually drink milk alone? Nope.

If you don’t have one already, would you consider getting an iPhone? Yeah, it's what I've had since high school.

What year were you born in? 1998.

[anxietywriter]

love in a way i understand

something something, that one quote that goes something like "if you loved me, then you didn't do it in a way i could understand." because yes everyone has their own love language and needs to effectively communicate so everyone you care about feels cared for. but also the angst when someone says they love you but they only love the idea of you, the you they created in their mind. when they say they love you but lie and neglect you. when they love you only out of duty. Anyway have at thee.

college student character who goes to a college far away from home. they did it to escape an abusive, toxic relationship with their family. the first day on campus and their parents call them. they say everything and nothing, all "hello, how's college?" or "we miss you" and the dreaded "i love you" and the cliche "you'll always be our baby"... where was all of this when they stayed home? did they really mean it? did they realize all of that the moment they left home? or was it perfunctory? they do it because that's what's expected of them. to keep up this image of a perfect, happy family. it's expected of them to call, to check, to talk over the phone. and maybe their parents do love them in an almost twisted way but... they hate it. they hate having to go home over the break. they hate the phone calls too. they hate it they hate it, it all feels so damn fake. so rehearsed.

a character who, for years and years was made to feel like they were not worthy because of their weight. who for so many years was told to use this product, or go on that diet. who resorted to fucking starving themselves because it wasn't enough. they were trying so hard and it wasn't enough and the fastest way was to just. not eat. and finally, when they were older and skinnier they were told, "perfect. that's perfect. not too skinny, not too fat. stay right there." and they felt empty. what was supposed to be their crowning achievement, and they felt as empty as their stomach. and that was the most genuine praise that they've ever heard but it meant the least to them. because they've done so much. top of their class, in computer science classes, volunteering on the weekends, helping clean and cook, staying up late doing homework, never going out with friends, sacrificing their health. was that all nothing? did that mean nothing? they starved themselves to get to this weight yes. but did the work, the tears, the stress, the years off their life, mean nothing in comparison? and they wanted to scream. wasted. wasted wasted wasted. how much time to gain the approval of someone they didn't even realize they didn't love anymore? that never loved them. that never appreciated them properly. how long?

characters being told over and over again, oh but we love you or they love you. You're their favorite child. Their favorite student. But that person can never recall anything about them. Not their favorite color, whether they wear glasses, their favorite food, their dislikes, just the most rudimentary basic shit. They don't even know what they studied in college or what they've been studying for the past few years. None of it. Stuff that they avidly love and talk about and that person who claims to love them has never bothered to listen. So why the hell should they listen when they're being told "I love you"?

when someone tells them "I'll love you no matter what" and their soul just... Dies... Because that's a lie. Because they know what would happen if that person found out what they're really like. And they hide all of that because they're not looking for a conflict but. That lie is the most painful thing to hear. To hear "I would love you in any possible way I can conceive you turning out, but the moment you have free will and take a path unexpected and unacceptable to me, then I would rather kill you myself." And the yelling, the accusations, the crying... It's easier to just hide.

I love you, but only because I remember the you I had known four years ago. I love you but I will not respect the boundaries that are newly placed because we're old friends and soooo close. I love you because you're still the same person I knew four years ago. I love you because you never changed... That person you speak of is long dead. So much has changed, so little I've said. Did you like me better? Back when I was so frail and young? I can tell. I can tell. You would not like me now. You talk at a table full of people to yourself, scorning people like me. We've grown differently I can see. For I've grown past needing you to feel loved.

[malicemismanager]

I'm about to complain into the void. Feel free to skip this one peeps, I'm just having Feelings and I got nowhere else to put them.

I'm more and more considering just giving up on my business. It's just really hard to not see it as a waste of time when I don't sell anything except for one weekend out of the year, and this con I didn't even sell enough to get back the cost of the booth. Add to that that I haven't had the motivation to make anything in months because of that last fact, and it just. It's really not doing great things for my mental health, y'know?

And like on the other hand it feels really dumb to complain about this, cuz like. I make jewellery. Hardly a vital service. And with everything that's going on in the world, no shit I'm not gonna be selling anything. And ultimately it's my own damn fault for tying so much of my well being into this mess, but on the other other hand, what else am I gonna do? I'm a disabled high school drop-out with ADHD and social anxiety and no reliable transportation. Not exactly "normal" job material.

I dunno where I'm going with this honestly. I just wish I didn't feel so gods damned pointless. I know that's in no small part the depression talking, but that's not all it is and I just don't know what to do about it cuz it's all out of my control. My job used to bring me so much joy, and I hate that all this stress has taken that from me. But what the fuck am I supposed to do about it? How do I even begin to fix this when I don't know what I did wrong in the first place?

I'm trying really hard to get excited about next year's con and be optimistic about it, but I've never been good at optimism and I feel like I've got a pretty good reason not to be at this point. I don't know. I'm sliding pretty fast into apathy and that scares me a little bit cuz I know how hard it is to get out once I get there, but I don't know how to stop. I'm just desperately holding onto anything that brings me even the tiniest bit of joy and hoping to gods that it's enough to keep me afloat.

[igaveyouamortentia]

He doesn't understand it..

I miss him so much:( all I wanna do is talk to him, I don't need to rest, he's my resting and relaxation. I think he's kinda happy that I got a job..And that I'll be busy and he thinks I should spend less time with him and focus on my life.. Maybe get a partner who's more suitable for me.. No.. He doesn't understand that if we want, we make time for what matters us so much, and he means everything to me, so of course every free second I'd get I'd annoy him:(

I really hate that I have to take this job... And be away for a long time, not even doing too much working, just wasting time. I mean it's fine in a way that he sleeps until late so he'd not do much when I get back and miss out on his entire day.. It's easy to get distant like that..which I really don't want.. But what I also hate about this is that I can't stay up with him until late nights like 4 am and talk.. About everything really. And I'd only have one free day of the week.. I mean I can get weekend off, sometimes.. And it's just four hours, but soo early the next day! So just wake up earlier so no one will come in for 4 hours. 😪Maybe on Sunday.. But such a waste of everyone's time. Or don't open up every week day and have those off ffs.

I'm just afraid of losing him over this.. Which is stupid.. I know I can't really lose him over this, but what if he'll think he no longer fits in my life and he should go.. Fuck no.

[lucaswarmhotchocolate]

I always wondered why adults wanted me to be proud of myself for doing hard things when I was younger, hard things are just. things. you have to do them. why would I be proud of myself for doing something I didn't enjoy? pride is for things that are fun. anyways a lot of it was adhd but also a lot of it was the way I was raised. eldest daughters of single mothers, or maybe just me as the child of my parent, just Do Things that are hard. you take care of your little brother (not when he's sick on a school day though, school is still mandatory for you then, however if he is sick on a weekend you should help out) do the dishes feed the cats brush your teeth take a shower do laundry fold the towels Help Out, because that's what you're supposed to do. But don't forget that we are desperately trying to pretend that middle class ideals and ways of life are applicable to us, so don't fall behind on your schoolwork, make sure to make friends, get Hot lunch since we can afford it thanks to Obama and more inclusive free lunch programs, make sure to get a fruit and a vegetable though even if you just want fruit and have to waste a vegetable because that's the only way it's free, don't stay after school late though -- just because you're in middle school now doesn't mean your brother is, you have to be there when he comes home, make friends but I don't like those friends and also I'm going to ground you specifically from your friends whenever you fail to babysit your brother or do the dishes or if I'm just in a bad mood and want to blame something on your friends. Also, all men and boys are evil and I hate them and you need to tell me when you get a boyfriend (I dated a trans guy in secret because they were a couple grades above me and I adored him so much and started questioning my gender because of them introducing it to me, but I didn't want my mom to ban me from seeing him. in hindsight it was fine! we were adorable! when I ruined the relationship I had nobody to cry to though. I didn't tell my mom until last year and she almost grounded me as revenge for not telling her)

also you know what fuck prose here's some more bullshit I'm thinking of

when I was like 7 or something my dad (shorthand for my brother's dad cuz I thought he was my dad for years) told me I could only have my million dollar shaped chocolate bar from gramma and pop-pop if I drank some of his fireball whiskey. it tasted bad but I got my chocolate a few shots later. I didn't tell anyone till a couple years ago in therapy. Also adding this while re-reading the whole post again but he stripped me down to just my nightshirt once (yeah he even took off my underwear it was so normal and not at all weird of him) and tickled me! and told me about how nice it is to sleep without underwear on! I hate him. hope all that smoking gives him lung cancer and the years of alcoholism gave him the worst liver ever. I'm more mad at him for using his belt on my baby brother.

my mom likes to say she's so accepting of me and she used to be an ally but now she's bi and cool good for her she still grounded me from going to pride when I actually had friends who were inviting me. now I have no friends and nobody to go to pride with and quite frankly I have no pride. I'm tired.

everytime I have gotten sick, ever since i was a little kid, I've stayed sick for longer than what's is "normal." my theory is that I simply have no tolerance for pain or discomfort, and need more rest compared to most people in order to get back to my usual self. somehow everyone in my life is still surprised when I have a mild cold for a week at a time.

in my first year back at highschool after covid hit I was sick every month. literally had a more consistent recurring cold than I have ever had from my period. I was literally so stressed my body freaked out and made me sniffley, congested, throw up, run fevers for an hour at a time before cooling down again, have no appetite and need to sleep for days at a time. my mom still tried sending me to school like that and honestly she got her way an irritating amount of time, and usually also either refused to drive me or got mad at me while driving me and always said something right at the entrance to the drop off area.

I had such a visceral reaction at the idea of entering my high school's building I would literally be late to first period by 5 minutes almost every day because I would have to psych myself up to go through the doors. I'd spend hours in the bathroom crying or sitting on the floor with my head in my hands. I'd use and abuse the oh-so-generous 10-15 minute breaks they allowed the entire student body to take to the point where on my IEP that my therapist fought to get me, they actually specified I was only allowed to have 5 minute breaks! as expected this caused me to go hide in the bathrooms EVEN MORE instead. I couldn't even stay in just one, I had to go walking around to change which bathroom I'd hide in or else they'd send someone to fetch me. I was considered a truant for most of my high school career and still nobody ever set up consistent fucking meetings with the fucking. idek the person I was supposed to be talking to according to my IEP. idk what position she filled. she was supposed to be talking to me for 30 minutes a week MINIMUM but I saw her one time for 30 minutes. literally once. I switched to an alternative schooling program for dropout risks and kids with behavior issues before I had a second meeting with that woman.

My mom has never responded to my meltdowns with anything other than anger, stress, and more anger. When I cried as a child she would yell at me to stop it and has explained that she just "didn't know what to do" and goes through the whole song and dance about her abusive dad literally every time I bring it up. she still yells at me when I cry. when I have meltdowns I'll sometimes bang my head against a wall and the last time I did that she decided to grab my fucking head.

I've always been viewed as the "family chef" because I liked food and the food network as a kid, and even though my mom always says that she agrees if I cook I shouldn't have to clean, and that she and my brother love when I cook because neither of them are fucking doing it, she always gets mad at me for not cleaning up after my cooking. I dont know how many times I've explained that I don't have the energy to cook *and* clean, and since nobody else is cooking I kind of have to it would be nice to have lowered expectations for me to clean things up. I continue to be the only person to cook, or at least put real effort into making a nice tasting meal that others enjoy, and my mother continues to berate me for leaving a mess after myself. I still do dishes! I just can't do a lot of them and so there is still a mess after i cook or eat. i am still always always always put down specifically for not doing the dishes and even though it's just me cooking for the whole fucking family, the humble trio of us, the most I get is praise. "thank you for cooking! it's so good! I appreciate you ♡" it sounds nice, right? it's just like. how the fuck are you gonna say that and then not help me clean after I cook and then get mad at me for not cleaning and then continue to either not cook, or make such blatantly shitty and lazy meals that taste absolutely horrible or have no nutritional balance at all? Like I can't just go on a strike from cooking! I'm so hungry! I haven't eaten anything nutritionally balanced, just ramen and ice cream for the last couple days, and I feel like shit. absolute shit. there are pantry goods and stuff I just don't have the energy to macgyver a full meal out of it all and not only am I not eating, nobody else is either! my mom just doesn't care though because my brother has his grandparents to help take care of him and my mom is fine without proper meals and I look at dungeon meshi memes wishing I was able to cook something nice and warm and balanced and then coming to terms with the fact that I can't right now and nobody is helping me.

my mother probably is emotionally abusive tbh! she sucks when she's doing bad. she is terrible at emotional regulation and views me as a fully grown adult who doesn't need to rely on her at all. I think she legitimately thinks I purposefully take advantage of her, rather than thinking that I rely on her because she told me I could for so many years that I never expected her to get mad and take it back.

My vocab is annoying. my mom gets annoyed easily. you get what happens.

my school is an alternative option to me dropping out, since the trade-based career preparation "alternative education" center didn't work out well for me (I have crippling anxiety in the most literal meaning. it is not a meme or a hyperbole I get so anxious I panic and shut down and it's comparable to a soldier with ptsd hearing fireworks. cannot stress enough how much I am not kidding) anyways, it's a one class at a time style education, all online. I'm not making as much progress as they usually expect, but I think I'm doing okay since I try to communicate with my "Relationship Manager" and she seems to understand that I'm just slow, not a "bad kid" or something. I would've been kicked out of my public school by now, since they only allow their students 4 years to either graduate or transfer/drop out. This program is really good for me, but sadly did not randomly turn me into the Super Genius autistic person and so my mother, who oversees my education at home, is *very stressed* about it. I don't think she realizes how slow I am with my work and thinks I'm just fucking around, and she seems to think I don't understand how serious my situation is because no matter how much help is vaguely offered to me or how many times she yells at me or threatens me or warns me about how I could get kicked out if I don't make enough progress, I don't magically churn out progress like a fucking machine or even a Regular person. like yeah, no fucking shit, I'm disabled and have been struggling with school my entire fucking life. how the hell would anyone help me when my problem is existing in the wrong way?

all my peers that I still follow on instagram are graduated by now. all my old friends have long since forgotten about me, have moved on with their lives while I'm still in fucking high school. HIGH SCHOOL. it's embarrassing. I see someone I used to have spanish class with when I go to the supermarket. Someone from Algebra worked at the closer-to-me grocery store. I see people my age *working* all the time. Leaving my house is an admission of guilt, a lesson in public humiliation. I will never be normal, I will always struggle, I will always think it's over right before it gets worse.

Sometimes I wish I would just get into a car accident, need to get a limb amputated or use a cane or a wheelchair. Have something visibly wrong with me, something accepted by others as a Reason for why I am the way I am. Of course, this too is met with guilt because physically disabled people deal with the same shit but worse. It's still ableism. It's just hard to explain to others that I need the same amount of support as someone in a wheelchair even though I look completely fine. My family is skeptical of me, always thinking I just need to apply myself more. I can get a job, i just need to actually submit an application. I can finish highschool, I just need to Focus More. I just have ADHD, why do I act like I have a Real Disability? "Okay, fine," they admit, "maybe you're autistic -- you're not *severely* autistic though! you can walk normal, and talk the same as we do, and you never had a meltdown at school like that one boy!" But they ignore the fact that I always felt like everyone at school hated me specifically, the fact that the classroom was such a hostile place for me that I sought comfort in *public bathrooms.* they ignore the times I called my mom, sobbing and choking on my tears and riddled with hiccups, begging my mom to take me home so I could be in my room where it's *safe* and nobody hates me. they ignore the way I would always scream and cry at the starts of semesters. they ignore the way i still get so overwhelmed and nervous at the thought of people that I regularly stay inside my house for weeks at a time. nobody is willing to admit that I am an "unacceptable" autistic person, I have adhd in a serious way, not a fun or even just an annoying way. I need support, support that I do not have, and nobody takes me seriously because I'm young and don't have kids and my mom needs the support *more* because she has to deal with *me*!

I'm just like. so fucking sick of being disabled enough for it to ruin my life but not disabled enough for others to call me disabled. every time i refer to myself as disabled in real life it's seen as an exaggeration, hyperbole, not something serious. I'm told to ask for help but apparently I can't *actually* ask for the help I need, I can only ask for... normal things? I'm gonna be honest I don't know what I should ask for. nobody's ever told me what I'm allowed to have. Just that having someone else do my work for me isn't the answer, even though there is the literal standard business model of a cleaner who comes to your house and cleans for you. another business model for a person who drives you around. obviously I don't need unusual things, I'm just not rich about it.

Someday I just want to live and exist without being scared someone's going to come into my room and yell at me, or tell me all the ways in which I fail to measure up to people's expectations. I just want someone to love me unconditionally, without it hurting.

[yesitsleo]

I hate when your opinions and choices get attributed to men

No I did not decide to go to quit this job and go to university cause of some stupid dude

I had already decided to do this well over a year ago and I'm doing it for myself because I'm capable to think for myself and do what I want and take my life in whatever direction I want

I also don't need some guy to tell me when I'm being disrespected by someone who can't even be bothered to remember my name! Funny how that never happened with any of the male coworkers 🤪 you want to keep me in your company but you couldn't even set up my contract when I wanted to renew in January having me ask every day why I still didn't have a fucking contract

The audacity to think I only dislike this job cause I had some man in my ear when I was put under so much pressure I developed an eyetwitch getting calls in my free time and texts on the weekend being told everyday by my boss how he should just kill himself cause no ones delivering

You want to keep me but you cut my christmas bonus in half lol 🤡🤣

I only renewed to kill the time until october

I never wanted to stay in this shit hole

If anything these other people quit cause I told them exactly this that I wasn't gonna waste my whole life in this dump lol

I already told them I was gonna go study a year ago and then coincidentally they quit at the beginning of the year and relocate to the city my university is at but somehow I'm the one thats being influenced 🤪

[izubabes]

OMG YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH I ENJOY READING YOUR WRITING (WILL STAY AS ANON BC THIS IS AN NSFW REQ AND IM SHY :')) and since your requests are open here i am (◠‿・)—☆

scenario: them hooking up one time and her denying she liked it and avoiding him for weeks. then they run to each other in the campus, him dragging her to a vacant room smirking, she says "need something, haitani?" "you know exactly what I need”

and when it gets 🌶️🌶️ please add a scene where she says panting "this is a one time thing" he smirks while licking his fingers "liar."

THANK YOU BEFORE DHSKAK <3

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝: 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

The hot gossip on campus? Ran Haitani never goes after the same girl twice, no matter how much pleasure she brought him. As soon as he's satisfied, it's onto the next gorgeous gal who'll let him into their bed. He's known as a walking sex god; anyone would be blessed to have him stick his dick inside of them at least once. Charismatic and overwhelming handsome and Roppongi’s local celebrity? He was born lucky.

Rumor has it he fucked an entire sorority house, leading to their messy disbandment in which he was the sole reason to blame. He became the university’s resident fuckboy, the top dog who could anyone at his feet when he came calling. Word on campus always spreads like wildfire especially when it comes to the popular crowd and their colorful activities.

“Ran Haitani knows how to work those hips… He made me squirt all over him! He likes it messy.”

“Ran can last way longer than my ex did! I would ride him again, no questions asked.”

“Ran is such an animal in bed! He nearly broke my back, but it was sooo worth it. Rindou's dick game is just as powerful.”

“I heard Ran likes it rough, I would die for a chance to get in his pants, I know for a fact he’s packing!”

Ran Haitani is a menace. You never cared for the delinquent nor hearing the details of his vibrant sex life. You had shared a couple of classes previously, but you hated the way he had blatantly stared at you like he wanted to eat you. He never bothered to speak to you either, clearly too focused on other matters than to introduce himself properly despite the way he constantly ogled you.

If he wanted to waste his college career by fucking every set of pretty legs that caught his attention, let him do so. You promised yourself that you would never cross paths with either of the Haitanis, opting to indulge yourself in your studies in order to graduate on time rather than doting on men who would never want more than to hit it and ghost you afterwards.

Your roommate, Kana, interrupted your thoughts as she showed you an incoming group text on her phone. "Hey Y/N, did you hear the news? Ran and Rindou are having a kickback party at their place this weekend. Practically everyone on campus is going, girl! We should go enjoy ourselves for once instead of wasting our youth."

You rolled your eyes at the alluring suggestion, an overwhelming feeling of disgust arising in your gut. Any explicit mention of the Haitani brothers rattled your bones with pure distaste. "Kana, I could care less about what Ran Haitani does in his free time. The bastard is a walking petri dish of STDs... I do not want to associate with him if it isn't required."

Kana clung to your side, teary and pleading eyes burning a hole into your wavering ones. She could be incredibly convincing with her signature pouty expression and relentless begging. "Come on, girl! It'll be fun, I doubt we would run into them anyways, they have their own inner circle of friends. We're just going to blow off some steam."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt... What could possibly go wrong?"

Call it a momentary lapse in judgement, a lesson from the godforsaken universe, a form of cruel karma that would serve a humiliating reminder of your actions. Alcohol was not a factor in this situation, considering the fact you hated the bitter taste and the way it lingered in your gut like a sick feeling you couldn’t shake off. Kana had disappeared minutes after entering the house, claiming she would come back with a couple of drinks for the both of you.

Yeah, right.

The air in the living room was thick with perspiration, drunk bodies swayed to the beat of the music as People shamelessly made out against the walls, groping each other for the world to marvel at. It was too much, too noisy, not enough room for a single puff of oxygen to pass through your lungs and it was becoming increasingly overwhelming. You pushed through the crowd in an attempt to find Kana or a bit of space, desperation crawling up your spine as the area became more and more condensed, the grip you had on reality was spinning at a ridiculous speed and loosening further and further. You bumped into someone’s chest, knocking their drink onto the floor, as you immediately began sputtering apologies. “I’m so sorry!”

“Woah babe, are you okay?” Ran had struck up a conversation with you, noticing how uncomfortable you seemed in the crowd of drunk partygoers. He offered to help you find a quiet place to relax no matter how many times you tried to brush him off during the encounter. Despite how innocent his intentions may seem; you kept your guard up as a means to keep yourself safe.

You panted, frantically trying to calm the way your heart ravaged your body, threatening to burst out of your chest. “J-Just peachy, Ran. What do you want?”

Ran put the pieces together in a matter of seconds, tilting your chin up to gaze up at him. He was clearly worried, glancing over your features for any sign of injury or distress, which caught you off guard. “You’re not much of a party person, are you?”

“I am!” You scoffed at the statement, becoming more and more self-aware of how the crowd of guests kept growing by the second, practically pushing you against his body. “It’s just too noisy… Kana should be around here.”

“Come with me,” Ran said, tugging on your hand before you could object. His tender grip was soothing as he effortlessly weaved his way through the masses, practically parting the seas with his presence. "You're going to pass out if you stay here."

Reluctantly, you agreed after so many incessant requests, following him upstairs and disappearing into the sanctuary of his room, ignoring the lewd hollers coming from his friends down below. Ran gently ushered you in, closing the door and muffling out the sounds of the mayhem from downstairs. He began picking up the stray clothing littering the floor, kicking away notebooks and readjusting the furniture in his space.

“Sit anywhere you like, sorry about the mess. I try to keep it clean, but Rindou always wrecks my room when he’s—”

You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting on the farthest end of his room, refusing to acknowledge the concerned glance he gave you as you spoke up with a stern tone. “I’m not going to sleep with you if that’s what you’re thinking about. I just came up here to catch my breath, I just need a minute.”

“Chill out, babe. I’m not gonna touch you.” Ran laughed, holding his hands in the air as he seated himself on the carpeted floor. Your scrutinizing gaze lingered over his figure, His orchid irises skimmed over your body, curiously sizing you up before landing on your face, a mischievous grin creeped up his cheeks. “Unless you want me to.”

You clicked your tongue at his comment, narrowing your eyes at him before shaking your head at the thought. Sure, he was attractive but you would rather stick your hand in a blender than become one his new sexual adventures. “In your dreams, Haitani. God knows how high your body count is.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning being gravely wounded by your words. A flicker of genuine hurt washed over his eyes, quickly replaced by a mischievous one in its stead. “You’re so mean to me, Y/N. I’m just trying to be nice. Let’s get to know each other better, yeah? I promise I don’t bite, cutie.”

An hour later you discovered that Ran Haitani is actually a fun person to talk to once you get used to his childish antics, he’s easygoing, speaks his mind freely but he will push your buttons with little comments and banter here and there. He refused to leave your side despite the many times you reassured him you were okay, arguing that he would be a rude host for leaving a lady alone.

You found yourself nearing his space, scooting closer and closer to his side as the conversation picked up momentum, Ran was currently sharing stories about Rindou’s most embarrassing moments throughout the semester. Particularly the time his brother accidentally keyed the wrong car on campus. “Oh my god, no fucking way. He did not!”

“Yes, he did!” Ran cackled, holding onto his stomach as he fell back onto the ground. His deep voice was melodic, a fine tune that you wanted to hear more of as the time passed. “Our professor was so pissed, he threatened to report him to the Dean of Student Life for damage of private property unless he helped cover half of the cost.”

“You know, I may not like you but you are nice company to have around.”

“Ouch,” Ran mused, pinching your cheek in return for the brutal remark. “You may be adorable but you’re vicious, Y/N.”

You slapped his hand away, continuing the relentless teasing unaware of the predatory glance Ran kept locked on your figure. “Aw, poor thing. Did I hurt your feelings, Ran? Are you going to punish me?”

Ran pinned you onto the ground, his towering figure hovering over your powerless one. He had trapped you so easily, it would be pointless to resist or fight back. His lips tugged up into a smug little grin at the way you squirmed underneath him. “You shouldn’t play with fire, sweetheart.”

"I'm not afraid to get burned, Ran."

It was supposed to be a teasing little peck, a tiny shred of revenge for the stunt he had just pulled moments ago. However, Ran Haitani’s soft lips are a sickly sweet drug, one that you craved the taste as soon as he pressed them against yours. He pulled you onto his lap, cock growing hard at the way you rutted your hips over his thigh. He pulled away, catching his breath before lightly squeezing on your waist. “How far do you wanna go, babe?”

You gripped his hand, bringing it under your skirt to rub at your clothed slit, panties dripping with your arousal. Ran groaned at the heat radiating on his fingertips, ready to blow his load into his pants right then and there. You licked a wet stripe on the shell of his ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin. "Does this answer your question?"

You found yourself in the stranger's bedroom, practically having the daylights fucked out of your body. Wet kisses and high pitched moans were drowned out by the blaring music coming from the raging party downstairs. Here you are, sleeping with the one person you swore to stay away from, what a fucking hypocrite. "Take it, baby! O-Oh fuck, this pussy is so tight for me, yeah?”

Ran Haitani was definitely not splitting you open with his cock, mumbling endless praises into your delicate skin, rubbing your sensitive clit just right when you were on the edge of an earth-shaking orgasm. He was different from all of your previous hookups, the ones who simply focused getting their dicks wet and left you unsatisfied in return. Ran had made your pleasure his priority, he treated your body like fine art, appreciating every curve, every sweet cry of his name, every delicious moan that escaped your mouth. "Make me cum, Ran. M'close, please, please... ah!"

Ran had gently cleaned you up afterwards, helped you put your undergarments back on, placed sweet kisses on your blushing cheeks and softly cradled you in his arms. Exhaustion made it impossible for you to fully process what just happened, choosing to lull you into sleepy trance. You had nearly believed what had happened was a twisted dream until you woke up with both of your limbs entangled with one another.

Ran’s sleepy breaths tickled the nape of your neck as you carefully slid out of the bed, piecing together the memories from last night. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening… not with him.”

The dim light of your cellphone illuminated the corner of Ran’s bedroom. You silently raced over and retrieved the device, skimming over the notifications that appeared on the screen as the dread from last night began to sink in. You slept with Ran. You fucked Ran. You hooked up with Ran. You were in Ran's bedroom.

15 missed calls from Kana.

50 text messages from Kana.

10 missed FaceTime calls from Kana.

The soft pads of your feet echoed the room as you gathered your belongings, being careful to not wake the sleeping figure that once laid next to you. Last night was never supposed to happen, especially with someone like him, the horny bastard who slept with anything that breathed. You contemplated what excuse to give Kana for not answering last night, knowing she would demand details regarding your whereabouts.

"Leaving so soon, gorgeous?" Ran's sleepy yawn cut through your thoughts, a lazy grin occupying his face. His raging bedhead was a beautiful sight to see, his dual-colored strands framed his face perfectly, free of the iconic braids he normally sported. A pair of grey sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, the dark ink on his chest was on full display contrasting against his porcelain skin. “We should spend some more time together. I had fun last night.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Haitani.” you muttered. It was too early in the morning to handle his merciless teasing as the embarrassment began to pool in your gut. The lack of light in the room made it nearly impossible to find your shirt, you settled on a nearby sweatshirt that could cover your exposed chest. There was no way you would admit to someone as prideful as Ran that he was the best man you had ever laid with. “You could barely make me cum. I had to do all the work.”

“Oh?” Ran's curiosity spiked at the statement, his inflated ego bruised from your verbal assault, it would be awful of him to leave you so bothered with his actions. Honestly, he really wanted you to stay so you could both talk things out properly. “Give me another chance, see if that changes your mind.”

“No thanks,” You replied, stalking towards the door and leaving him in the dust. “I have better things to do than fucking you.”

Ran has never been left more stunned and frustrated in his entire life.

Shit, where did she go?

Ran caught glimpses of you in between lectures but you always skittered away too quickly as soon as the class ended. His legs couldn’t keep up with the sudden turns in direction you made once he caught your trail. He begged Rindou for help on searching for you to which he immediately declined, citing the previous times he was bitched at by his brother's past flings. The utter desperation on his older brother's face eventually made him cave into his wishes, knowing he could never leave him to hang dry.

“This is fuckin’ stupid,” Rindou grumbled from his location in the bushes, he had already wasted twenty minutes of his life helping Ran with this idiotic situation only to receive no results. "Have you ever thought about... Oh, I don't know. The fact that she's not into you?"

Ran shushed him, rebuking the foul idea that you didn't reciprocate his feelings. Call it a spark, or something similar, but he knew there was a hidden motive behind your avoidance. Ran knew you had enjoyed your time together as much as he did, why were you so quick to deny it?

"Quiet, Rindou. I need to see her again. I can't explain how or why but she definitely stole my heart."

"Whatever you say, bro. Better be worth it if you're chasing after her like this."

The brothers hid in the bushes for three hours, declaring defeat after university police threatened to arrest them for loitering. Rindou could have sworn he caught a passing glance of you discreetly walking out of the residence hall as they were scolded by the officials and escorted to their own building. He shot you a pissed off glare while you picked up the pace, subtly flicking him off in the distance, Ran was too busy sweet talking the officer to notice.

Ran can go to hell...

You had begun escaping the dorms at odd hours in order to avoid running into Ran, knowing he would surely come knocking on your door. You hid in the library for hours until you were sure he wasn’t lurking around campus after classes had ended. You avoided the dining hall despite how hungry you became, opting to walk to the shady convenience store nearby for some food.

It was pure agony to have one stupid decision ruin your life like this. What does he want? You have nothing to offer him.

You learned a painful lesson over the past few weeks: Ran Haitani never gives up when he finds something he wants. He learned your class schedule and waited near the doors to see if he could catch you on the way out. When you failed to appear he decided to head back, until he recognized one of the students as your roommate, who had left you for dead at the party. “Hey, you.” He called out, catching her wrist as she paced faster at the sound of his voice. “Is Y/N in your class? Was she here today?”

“She’s not feeling well,” The girl lied through her teeth, unwilling to entertain the older Haitani's antics. Ran wasn't buying it, noting the way she fidgeted under his piercing gaze. She spoke again, adding more details to her explanation. “She’s missed the last three days of class.”

Ran sighed, caving into defeat once again for another day. He would stop by your dorm again tonight to confirm if you really were sick, ready to receive radio silence from the other side of the door once more. He turned his back to her, waving as he walked away before adding, “If you see her around, let her know I need to talk to her.”

“He’s gone,” Kana whispered into the classroom, scanning the hallway once more for good measure before calling you over. Your panicked head peeked out of the side of the doorframe, “It’s okay to come out, Y/N.”

A relieved breath of air escaped your lips as you stepped out of the classroom. “Thank you, Kana. I owe you one.”

“No worries, girl.” She smiled, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I wouldn’t want Ran Haitani on my tail either. He’s bad news.”

The words she spoke held truth to them, but they left a bitter taste in your mouth. Sure, Ran Haitani doesn’t have the best reputation, known for owning Roppongi, carrying a menacing baton with him at all times, and being a member of the notorious S-62 Generation.

Even so, he had a gentle side he had given you a moment to relish in.

Hiding from Ran was a feat you knew you couldn't keep up forever. Unfortunately, the following day was the destined date you were meant to run into the menace. You had spotted him heading towards the same building as you, presumably for a class around the same time, before stopping in your tracks and dropping your books onto the concrete. "Oh my fucking god, not now."

The abrupt noise caught his attention as he raced over to your panicking figure. You violently picked up your textbooks and speed walked towards the steps leading to the entrance. His long hair flowed freely in the wind, reminding you of the time you woke up next to him, he must have gotten up late this morning considering the fact he only had on sweats and a loose tee shirt.

“Y/N!” Ran called out, chasing after your distant figure before completely catching up within a couple strides. He was over the moon, the subtle giddiness in his voice gave it away. “I've been looking for you. You free tomorrow—?”

“Busy,” you replied curtly, ignoring the way he instantly pouted at your words. He opened his mouth to speak again just as you ruthlessly cut him off. “I’m late for class.”

Playing hard to get? Two can play at that game.

The lecture hall’s doors opened, signaling the end of the class period. Ran was leaning against the wall, violet eyes scanning the crowd of departing students until he locked his gaze with you. He could the hear the melodic sound of your voice piercing the air as you made conversation with one of your classmates.

“The final project is worth twenty percent of our final grade? I wish we could work independently instead of having to— Hey! What’s—!? Ran, let me go!”

He tugged on your arm, dragging you through the hallway before pushing you into an empty classroom, discreetly locking the door behind him. He freed your arm from his grip as you backed several feet away, embarrassed as hell from the stunt he just pulled. You narrowed your eyes at him, displeasure evident from the way your lips pursed at his growing smirk. His intense stare reflected nothing but pure unadulterated bliss, damn maniac. “Need something, Haitani?”

“You know exactly what I need, baby.”

Instictively your mind raced to the only possible conclusion: He wanted one more chance to hook up with you. Surely that was the reason he was seeking you out so desperately. Public humiliation must be some sadistic kink of his considering how much he loved to toy with your life. The thought of it ignited a blazing fire in your bones, manifesting as pure venom in your words. “If you want some quick pussy, I’m not the only girl on campus—”

“You haven’t left my mind since the night of the party,” Ran stated, cutting you off just like you did earlier. “I miss you, baby.”

A frustrated sigh escaped your mouth, he didn’t make an ounce of sense. “For all but pure reasons, I assume?”

“Sit on the table, we need to talk.” Ran ordered, biting back a sinister smile at the way you obediently followed his instructions. “Admit it,” He demanded as he stalked towards your shorter figure, caging you in between his arms and peering down at your flustered face. “You’ve been avoiding me, huh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answered. The standoffish front you had so meticulously put up was beginning to crumble under his domineering aura. Ran Haitani was a notorious playboy, you knew that by heart, it would be ridiculous to believe he could actually be bothered by someone ghosting him after a quick hookup. “We hardly know each other.”

Untrue, Ran had first noticed you in a previous class of his, he nearly failed the course because he too enthralled by your beauty to focus on whatever the professor was babbling on about. He admired the way your notes were always neat, the way you always walked in with a sweet smile, the way you apologized when you ran late, the way you offered to send notes to absent classmates who needed to catch up with the material.

Unbeknownst to you, Ran had always admired you from afar, silently waiting to find the right moment to approach you. A secret crush that weighed heavy in his heart until he mustered up the courage to properly confess. Unfortunately, skirt chasing had become his rumored profession after a previous fling of his caught feelings and wanted to spite him for not reciprocating. Ran had overheard your conversation with Kana in the hallway about the party, he was secretly hurt knowing you viewed him in such a negative light.

“That’s the issue, babe.” Ran said, cupping your cheek, stroking the supple flesh with his thumb. “I wanna get to know you better, Y/N. I want you to get to know the real me, too.”

You examined his alluring features; it was second nature to be able to spot of lie from a mile away. Ran was being truthful; his orchid irises bore into your eyes with such a lustful craving that it drove you absolutely insane It was difficult to tell who had made the first move but the tension between you two boiled over in an instant. Ran’s lips trailed down your neck, teeth nipping at the skin ferociously in order to leave long lasting marks. He wanted to make sure the next person who had the chance to touch you knew you had belonged to him. “Do you want this?”

As if the incessant nodding of your head wasn’t enough to send a clear message, you crashed your lips against his again. “I need to hear you say it,” Ran said, pulling away from your needy mouth to hear some kind of verbal confirmation. “Do you want to keep going?”

“This is a one time thing,” You panted in between heated kisses, removing your shirt and bra as fast as you could. Ran’s hands roamed your body finding solace until they reached the fabric of your shorts, tugging the material and your panties down before sliding in two of his slender fingers, scissoring you open as your rich moans tumbled past your lips.

“Liar.” Ran smirked, licking his glistening fingers coated in your dripping arousal. He knew you had become putty in his hands, willing to do anything he said in order to selfishly chase after your own high. “Wanna take my time with you, but we gotta do this quick,” He said, leaning down to lap at your cunt, the sensation of his tongue invading your body made you delirious.

“Right there,” You whined, craving more of the delicious feeling, his fingers curled inside you, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves that has your vision turning white and babbling nonsense. “F-Faster, oh fuck!”

“Say this pretty pussy is mine,” Ran hummed breathlessly, detaching his hand from your twitching clit, slowing his pace enough to edge you on the brink of release. “Or I won’t let you cum.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you whined, bucking your hips up in an effort to receive some necessary friction. His fingers stilled inside you, refusing to move unless you did as you were told. The ache in between your legs begged to be taken care of, you could feel the stings of your incoming high fading away as the seconds passed. “Fine! It’s all yours, Ran! Fuck, s’all yours.”

“Good girl,” Ran muttered before diving back into your wet folds as his skilled tongue continued its assault on your aching core, coaxing you into your first orgasm of the afternoon. He eagerly drank up your sweet release, loving the way your gummy walls constricted around his mouth. His violet irises peered up at your pleasured expression, engraving the sight into his mind. “That’s right… You only cum for me, princess.”

He gave you only a minute to recover as you watched him free his thick cock from the restraints of his sweatpants, lining up with your entrance. His thick head prodded at your cunt; he slowly pressed the tip inside, stopping as soon as he saw your eyes screw shut in pleasure. Ran's hand harshly gripped at your chin, tilting it upwards to face him. “Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you properly.”

“Feels good, so good– oh god!” You gripped his toned arm, head swaying side to side as he stretched you open with his girth, bottoming out as your walls fluttered around his pulsating length. Ran kissed you with a burning passion you had never experienced before. It wasn’t needy, it was loving, sensual and sweet.

“You’re so beautiful,” He praised, setting a steady pace with each snap of his hips, watching the way your pretty tits bounced up and down as he sank his cock into your folds. Ran's self-restraint was out the window as soon as he bottomed out inside, ramming into you mercilessly as your nails dug into his back. "Gonna make a mess."

“Ran! Oh yes, Ran!”

He clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the erotic cries of pleasure erupting from your throat. The angelic symphony of his name brought him closer and closer to his high, grunting and groaning as your gummy walls clenched around his length. Your whimpers echoed within the classroom as Ran's warning penetrated your ears. “Keep quiet, sweetheart. We don’t wanna get caught.”

Having someone walk in and find the both of you in this comprising state didn't sound half-bad, if anything it only you more insatiable. The tight coil in your gut snapped without warning, allowing you to gush all over Ran's dick as he marveled at the sight. “I’m close, darling… shit, stop squeezing like that. Need to pull out!”

Ran sprayed his cum all over your thighs and tummy, in love with the image of you marked with his seed. He reached for nearby cloth to wipe you down, muttering apologies about how he made a mess. At the moment, you were too fucked out to care about whatever the hell he was going on about. The room kept spinning in circles, the air was thick with sex and sweat, his words barely sounded coherent in your mind. “R-Ran, hang on. I... need a minute.”

You both basked in the afterglow of your highs, uneven breaths becoming stable after a couple of minutes. The light in your eyes finally returned after what seemed like an eternity, consciousness clearing enough to form proper thoughts, realization hitting that you had just fucked inside an empty classroom on campus.

“Hey there,” Ran whispered, slowly grounding you back into reality. His hands rubbed soothing circles into your twitching thighs, massaging the skin with his palms. It was a sweet gesture after he brutalized your body in a span of twenty minutes. “Are you good, sweetheart? I went rougher than I thought, sorry.”

“You did so well for me,” He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, heart leaping at the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, craving his warm embrace. Ran indulged your neediness, nuzzling his warm cheek against yours, adoring the way your chest felt pressed against his, heartbeat erratic as he calmed you down. “You’re so cute.”

“Let me help you get dressed,” He said, reaching for the stray clothing before coming in contact with a white sticky substance staining the material. It was then that he noticed it was the same cloth he had used to clean you up earlier. “Your shirt’s covered in— oh, my bad.”

“Are you serious, Ran? You’re buying me a new one.” You snapped, snatching it out of his grasp, irritated with the fact he had just ruined one of your favorite tops. “I have a sweater in my backpack, can you please get it?”

Ran recognized the oversized clothing, it was the one he had spent the past few weeks wrecking the entire house for. He had ultimately blamed Rindou for losing it despite his constant denial he always shot back regarding the godforsaken clothing. “Is this my hoodie?”

You had forgotten that you had stolen it the first time you fucked Ran. Of course, there was no way to lie out this situation without looking completely stupid. You jerked the material over the upper half of your body, ignoring the way his devilish grin grew wider by the second. “D-Don’t get the wrong idea, Haitani. I was going to return it.”

Ran shook his head in response, admiring the way it found its new proper place on your figure. He wanted to see you in more of his clothes, practically drooling at the thought of it. “Keep it, sweetheart. It suits you.”

“Your hair’s all fucked up,” You mumbled, focused on his tousled strands as a way to ignore the blazing heat rising in your cheeks. A curious hand reached out to toy with the strands around his face, it was soft to the touch, silky and smooth. “Can I braid it?”

“Go for it,” Ran grinned, eager to receive more of your attention as he pulled up a chair. The words you had muttered earlier lingered in his mind, eating away at his bleeding heart. “Did you mean what you said?” He asked as your eyes sent him a curious look, “About this being one time thing, I can respect that.”

“No,” You admitted, gently running your fingers through his hair, beginning the styling process. The bittersweet expression on his face tangled your heartstrings more than expected. Pushing him away did you no good, it only hurt both of you in the end. “I don’t know why I said that. People talk, you know? I’m scared of what rumors I’ll get roped into.”

“I like you,” Ran blurted out, slightly surprise with how quickly he was confessing despite constantly fighting back the urge. He always crumbled under your presence; it was difficult to think clearly when all he wanted was to have you at his side. “Can we try to work something out? If you want to, of course.”

“I like you too, idiot.” you laughed, securing the final braid with an elastic hair tie. You placed a fleeting peck on his cheek, avoiding the stunned expression on his face. “All done. Wanna watch a movie at my dorm?”

Ran leaned in close, an unsettling glint flickering in his captivating orbs. “One condition. Can I cuddle you?”

“Wow, you're such a softie!” You squealed, pinching his cheek as he rolled his eyes at the very true statement. Ran laced his fingers with yours, bringing them up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Just for you, sweetness.”

You slid off the table, stumbling a few feet forward as your legs attempted to stabilize themselves after being brutalized by Ran's passionate lovemaking. There was no way you would be able to walk properly without getting a few questionable stares from fellow students and staff. "This is your fault, Ran."

Ran fought back a laugh, leaning down and positioning himself to receive your body weight. "I know. Hop on my back, pretty. I can piggyback you in style."

A scarlet blush adorned your cheeks as you rejected the offer, a mix of self-consciousness nipped at your spine along with pure humiliation. "Oh hell no! You're going to break your back hauling me halfway across campus."

“How else am I going to take you to your dorm?”

"This is embarrassing..." You whispered, hiding your face in his neck as he lead you out the doors while you were perched on his body. A couple of students stopped in their tracks to get a double take of the scene in front of them, pulling their phones out to record and share amongst the others. “People are staring, Ran!”

"Relax babe." Ran smiled before sprinting across the pavement as you let out a surprised scream. His large hands kept a secure grip on your thighs, reassuring you that he wouldn’t drop you. His amused laughter rang in your ears as he ran across campus like an idiot in love. "I was born with long legs for a reason!”

The hot gossip on campus, you ask? Ran Haitani has a girlfriend.

[gummygowon]

back 2 u | park seonghwa

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, fluff, arranaged marriage au with ceo!park seonghwa x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, relationship/marriage problems,

a/n: i have listened too much mitski while writing this omfg

taglist: @riboism @yunhvr

the last four years have been rough in terms of marriage. well, romantically at least.

you were unfortunately set up in an arranged marriage for the benefit of your father's company and the park family. to be honest, you somewhat had hopes for this marriage as park seonghwa, your now husband was fairly attractive and smart.

naive and younger you, hoped that seonghwa would try to make the most of this marriage and be romantic about it but so far your hopes were being crushed. your dates felt like business meetings at luxury restaurants and even your honeymoon felt too serious and so orderly.

you attempted to bring up the subject of seonghwa trying to be more romantic one night after dinner but he dismissed your feelings and said "things like that were a waste of time."

it was a little heart crushing to be honest but you accepted his explanation and spent your free time dreaming of romantic and heart warming moments with your husband.

however it was more heart crushing when every anniversary date you spent alone. one too many times he missed out on dinner because he got caught up with work. if you had the energy, you would've cursed him out for leaving you stranded at restaurants for two reasons. one, being that you absolutely hated eating out even if it was fine dining. you just really preferred home cooked meals over anything. and then two, leaving your own fucking wife on your anniversary was something worth screaming over.

eventually, you gave up on the idea of getting that sweet marriage life that you fantasized from movies and books. this lead to you never being in the house after work and getting up earlier and getting home later than seonghwa. sometimes you got up earlier than him intentionally to see if he would notice. to your observations, it seemed like he didn't even notice. he commented nothing on your lack of prescene around the house.

it infuriated you to be honest. you wanted seonghwa to show some sort of emotion to his wife rarely being home. hell, you would've taken him screaming at you at this point.

you accepted it though. seonghwa was merely a roommate that shared the same last name as you among other things. you stopped trying to get your husband to focus on you and turned your attention towards yourself.

weekends were spent at bars and clubs getting drunk with your best friends as you guys danced the night away. worries slipping away as you sipped on different colored cocktails each night.

you spent so much time with your friends that you didn't realize that yoon had scheduled a girls trip the weekend of your fifth anniversary with seonghwa.

you didn't even realize until seonghwa looked at you in shocked when you told him of your plans.

"are you not aware of what's happening this weekend?" seonghwa asked offended that you forgot as if he the right to be.

"what is it? is it another company party?" you respond not even bothering to look up at seonghwa as you sorted out your suitcase for the trip.

a scoff breaks through the air, "it's our fifth anniversary." seonghwa looks at you with his arms folded, expecting you to instantly forget your plans with your friends and come back to him.

you do the opposite.

you laugh. it was funny really. why did he care all of a sudden? he had no right questioning your decisions when he was the one too busy at work to even come to dinner the past years. fuck, you don't even the the last time seonghwa showed that he even cared. "yeah, we can just celebrate it when i get back i guess. it's not like i've spent the last four with you there anyways."

there was malice in your tone that seonghwa could feel. he was a little confused. he thought this whole time he was being a decent husband to you this whole time he was just busy person who had shit to do. seonghwa did pick up on your new daily routine but didn't comment on it. he didn't feel the need to question it. "what do you mean? we've spent them together."

the face you make towards him was priceless. you couldn't believe seonghwa was totally clueless about everything. "you're joking."

your husband didn't even respond, he just looked at you perplexed.

the blood in you was beginning to boil. "seonghwa, all four of our past anniversaries you weren't even there. you were busy with work. the first time, you overworked and didn't notice the time and the most recent one was that you went on a fucking last minute business trip to japan without even telling me."

now seonghwa was starting to get defensive. "it was last minute, i had no time-"

"seonghwa, you never fucking showed up to any of our dinner reservations!" you slam your hands down onto your suitcase, "do you even know that i hate eating at restaurants?"

maybe it was your reaction that left him stunned or maybe he genuinely didn't know. either way his lack of response got you even more heated. "see. you don't even fucking know your own wife."

"how can i get to know my wife, if she's not even home?" seonghwa retaliates, his voice increasing in volume.

"seonghwa, for the first two years of our marriage, i worked from home! just this year i stopped even coming home because what's the fucking point! you don't even talk to me unless it's related to work!"

at this point, tears were forming in your eyes that you fought so desperately to keep away but the cracks in your voice made it hard. you just wanted a successful marriage where the husband actually cared for his wife and took her out on dates to spoil her.

"i'm going to that jeju trip this weekend and if you really want to celebrate our anniversary you can plan that. i leave on friday and get back on tuesday morning." you manage to get out through the tears flowing down your face.

storming out your shared closet, you slam the bedroom door shut as you left your apartment to get out and clear your mind.

seonghwa watched in silence as you slammed your bedroom door shut. was he really this terrible of a husband? he did everything a husband should do he thought. he slept next to you everyday and joined you for meals when he can. what more could you ask of him?

he paced around the room out of stress. shit. he fucked up. seonghwa fucked up badly.

all this time, even before the marriage, seonghwa was content with marrying you. he thought you were brilliant and knew how to handle yourself and not to mention that you had the face of a goddess. he couldn't ask for more in a wife.

growing up, seonghwa's parents weren't the affectionate type of couple you would see on tv which is why he didn't think he was being a shitty husband. if anything he just never talked to you. which now that he thought about it, is lowkey fucked of him to do.

even after his stress pacing, seonghwa was still on edge after you left. he had a hard time expressing his feelings but damn he missed you. he missed waking up to you and seeing you before he fell asleep. seonghwa was content with you but failed to realize that you were never happy.

in a panic, seonghwa called his best friend and business partner, "hongjoong,"

"yes, seonghwa?" hongjoong picked up after the first ring. "you sound stressed, is something the matter?"

"i fucked up. i fucked up big time." a hand hand through his hair after he loosened his tie.

"did the meeting go to shit? what happened?" hongjoong asked his tone shifting to a more concerned and serious.

"fuck, no." he spat out a little too harshly. work was the last thing he wanted to talk about, "i think i pissed off y/n, like badly."

"you finally realized you're a shitty husband?"

"excuse me?" seonghwa snapped back, truly taken back after what his best friend said.

"what? don't act surprised hwa. i don't think you've ever spent a single anniversary with her. do you guys even have sex?"

"why would you- anyways, i tried to. work just got in the way." he weakly defended himself.

"park seonghwa, you idiot." he could hear hongjoong slap his forehead in frustration, "work is not more important than your own fucking wife! you should know this!"

"i realize that now. it's just i don't know. i noticed her never being home but i didn't think it was intentional."

"y/n stopped coming home?" hongjoong half-yelled into the phone.

"no, no. she's never awake or home when i'm home. it's like she's avoiding me on purpose."

"park seonghwa, you are the smartest man i have ever met yet so fucking dumb."

"she's doing it on purpose, you dumbass! she's testing you to see if you even care and obviously, you're failing it miserably."

"oh fuck."

"oh fuck is right."

there was a silence on the phone for a little bit. shit, he was fucked. like really fucked.

"how do i make it up to her? y/n is going to jeju with her friends for the weekend and she won't change her mind about going."

"isn't your anniversary this weekend though?"

"yes," seonghwa answered in defeat.

park seonghwa was a successful businessman. the new ceo to his father's company which so far has been doing exceptionally well under his care. he has had very few failures in his life but none of them could amount to the failure and guilt he was feeling at this moment.

he felt stupid for not taking your feeling seriously and pushing work to be his number one priority when it should have been you. seonghwa enjoyed his time with you, he didn't regret the arranged marriage one bit.

"you better get your shit together now and start planning then."

the following day after the argument, you made it known that you wanted nothing to do with seonghwa for a couple days. you made sure to come home when you knew seonghwa was fast asleep and left for work two hours early so you could get a head start on the day even though you were running on minimal hours of sleep.

you expected seonghwa to not even think twice of the fight. he was too much of a workalcholic to even spare you a second thought. however your husband was doing the exact opposite.

in his office, seonghwa was pacing around with different recipes in his hand as one of his younger friends sat on his desk watching him stress.

"why did you call me over here again?" wooyoung asked as he twirled one of the pens from his desk around his fingers.

"i need you to help me pick out a recipe to cook for y/n." seonghwa answered, his eyes never leaving the recipes.

"ok and why should i be here? i don't know anything about your wife." wooyoung stated bluntly.

seonghwa threw his hands down abruptly, "aren't you good at cooking? shouldn't you know a recipe or two?"

wooyoung got up from the desk, strolling over to seonghwa to pluck the recipes out of his hands, "yes, but it doesn't matter how extravagant you make the dish. if you want to make y/n happy, make her favorite meal. i can help you with that if you know what she likes."

a hum pushed it's way through seonghwa's throat as he paced around the room more, "she likes kimchi jjigae, she talked about it once."

"okay, okay i can work with that? anything else she likes?"

"pastries! she loves pastries!" seonghwa quipped as he remembered the bright smile on your face one afternoon you guys went to a cafe that served the best croissants in seoul.

"alright then. i'll go see if what recipes i have for you and then you can try them out for yourself."

"yes, thank you so much wooyoung." seonghwa felt a little lighter on his feet. his plan was slowly coming together

"of course, hyung. call me if you need anything."

"y/n, do you ever think about if seonghwa-"

"do i think if seonghwa feels any sort of fucking emotion towards me or what happened a couple of days ago?" you finish for your best friend, hwang yeji.

"godamn y/n." yeji takes a sip of her tea as you continued your rant.

"no i fucking don't." you hissed. "i would be surprised if he even thought about it for a second. mr.park is always so fucking busy and working every godamn hour of the day."

you took a sip of your cold brew in order to calm yourself down. today was a self-care/catch-up day with yeji, you couldn't ruin the vibe so early into your guys day, there was far too many things you guys had to do before you left for jeju. of course, you could talk about seonghwa and what happened on the trip but that would put a dampener on everything so you decided to talk about it now before it ate you alive.

"you're feelings are valid y/n, but don't think you should give seonghwa a chance to redeem himself this year?" yeji shyly suggests slightly afraid of how you would react to her question.

you did give him a chance to redeem himself. you gave him four chances to and each year he still fails you. "i did." you answer coldy, sipping your drink as you glance out the window to distract your mind. "and he keeps failing."

your eyes shifted from the tall glass windows to yeji who only muttered a small "oh."

"if he really wants me to forgive him, he can start out with doing something romantic for once in his life." you huff with a roll of your eyes. "come on, i need to buy a new bathing suit and new shoes for tomorrow."

"alright then. i think you should at least get seonghwa something while you're here, you know. so you don't have to think about him on the trip."

"i'll look." you agree as you made your way to the exit of the cafe. the thought of seonghwa never once leaving your mind as you finished your last minute errands for tomorrow.

while you shopped, seonghwa was finally attempting to bring wooyoung's recipes to life. not even going to lie, seonghwa was stressed, probably more stressed than he's ever been in awhile. a bead of sweat made it's way to his brow as he speedily yet carefully chopped vegetables for dinner.

he was constantly checking the time because he called yeji two days after the fight to basically beg her to take y/n out for the day before they leave because he wanted to prepare something for her. although it took around an hour to convince yeji to even listen to what seonghwa had to say to her, he was immensely grateful for her help.

however, seonghwa was too immersed in piping his whipped cream into the cream puffs, he had missed yeji's ten calls and dozens of text messages that you were on the way home.

by the time he got to his phone, you had just pulled into the parking lot with yeji. a string of cuss words left seongwa's mouth as he threw all the dirty dishes into the dish washer and stuffed the rest into the sink. as more seconds flew by, seonghwa was carefully plating the dinner table with your favorite dishes along with a few of your favorite sides.

outside, he could hear your faint voice and the soft beeping of the keypad on the door. shittt, he didn't even have time to change. fuck it. "hey." your husband softly spoke as soon as you opened the door.

"seonghwa? what's all this?" your eyes immediately dart to the dinner table that was loaded with food for two for once along with a few candles in the middle of it. eyes drifting back to seonghwa, you noticed the flour sprinkled on his apron and his hair a mess, his hands fiddled with each other.

"oh! i uh made us dinner before you leave tomorrow because i wanted to celebrate with you." hwa's stumbled over his words as he felt his cheeks warm up. "i know it doesn't look the best but if you wanted to join me, i need a minute to clean up." he gestured towards his apron and clothes.

a million emotions were circling your mind but the only response you could get out was a small "i would love to" accompanied with a shy smile.

seonghwa let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, "great! i'll be back."

but before you could even set your bags down, seonghwa took them out of your hands and pulled out a seat for you at the dinner table.

your heart fluttered as you sat down, "thank you."

shyly you watched as seonghwa slipped into the bedroom to change. your eyes floated back to the table as you scanned the plates and bowls in front of you. quickly, you began to realize that everything here was your favorite.

there was absolutely no way that park seonghwa, your ghost of a partner knew anything about you.

from the lack of attention over the five years, you could give less of a crap if the food was absolute shit. the mere thought that seonghwa even remembering anything you liked had you jumping for joy.

with your heart feeling warm, you softly smiled as you gaze at seonghwa as he enters the kitchen to pull out a bottle of champagne. you watched in anticipation as he twisted the cork off with a loud pop.

the golden liquid bubbled in the tall glasses as he made his way back to you. with a shaky hand, seonghwa passed you his drink, "i know that it was absolutely selfish and disrespectful of me to dismiss your feelings all those years ago and i am truly sorry for now realizing how much of a shitty husband i am. i know it will take a lot for you to forgive me but i want to thank you for joining me tonight."

you did your best to keep your facial expressions to a minimal, not wanting to let seonghwa know that he basically won you over again. "no, thank you for preparing everything for tonight." you calmly respond with a wave of your hand, "to five years together finally."

"to five years."

the both of you clinked your glasses together and took a long sip of the champagne as the alcohol left a bittersweet on your tongues.

before a silence could fall, you both attempted to start a conversation at the same time. awkward giggles slipped as seonghwa allowed you to talk to first.

"did you make everything yourself?" you ask as you serve yourself kimchi jjigae.

seonghwa waits patiently as you get everything you want, making sure that you were satisfied with your plate. "yes, wooyoung helped me come up with recipes for tonight and i just brought them to life."

he held a breath as he watches you take a bite. with every passing second he could feel his heart pound louder and louder. he ached for your approval even though he was the last person that should.

a delightful hum leaves your lips as your eyes light up in surprise, "this tastes wonderful seonghwa!"

the man in front of you relaxes and slightly sinks into his chair in relief. "i'm glad you like it." he hums as he digs into his own plate.

the rest of the night is full stolen glances that made you feel like you were in high school again along with fulfilling conversations that allowed each other to open up little by little. the bottle of champagne was long gone and the night was winding down.

"it's late, you have an early flight tomorrow don't you?" seonghwa asks as he gets up from his chair.

"i don't board until ten." you correct him, secretly not wanting this night to end.

"still, you need to arrive early to check in." before you could even protest, seonghwa begins to clean up the dinner table, "go get ready for bed, i'll clean everything up."

"are you sure?" you awkwardly stand up from the table silently refusing to not help him.

"of course, go." he shakes his head as his hands are full of plates and cups.

in a silent debate with yourself, you contemplated kissing seonghwa or giving him a hug to show your appreciation for him. you still were slightly mad with him but godamn, did this dinner give you higher hopes for the future. it showed you that hwa did really care. he wanted this to work as much as you did.

"go, y/n." your husband says a little more sternly this time.

fuck it.

you pecked his cheek quickly, "thank you for dinner, hwa."

before he even had a chance to process what had happened you were already gone but the warm, butterfly feeling returned.

tonight was a most definitely a success, seonghwa thought as he began washing the dishes with a satisfied smile on his face.

by the time seonghwa was done, you were in the middle of your night-time skin care routine. returning the favor, he kissed your bare shoulder causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"thank you for joining me tonight." hwa mumbled into your neck.

pausing your routine, you turn around, "how could i say no?"

your eyes hold seonghwa's as you feel your heart racing once again. when was the last time he looked at you like this? like you were the only thing in the world?

studying your husband's face, you notice the faint blush across his nose and cheeks that could be from the alcohol or from the same heart-racing feeling in your chest. maybe it was both who knows.

"when you come back," seonghwa paused afraid to speak anymore, "can we start over again."

out of the million things you could've said, you just laugh and brush away his question. "hwa, you're drunk. you don't even know what you're saying."

you didn't want to believe what he was asking. there was no way in hell that park seonghwa actually wanted to continue this act of loving husband and wife. he would eventually forget you as his work schedule would fill, right. right?

"y/n, please." seonghwa gripped your shoulders to stop you from turning around.

there was absolutely no way he was being serious. not in a million years would he prioritize his own wife over work. it would be out of character for him. park seonghwa was a ceo before he was anything else .

"i promise, i'll be better for you."

those words felt like a shot to the heart rather than something comforting.

"just trust me please." his voice cracked as a hand sneaked its way to your cheek.

"hwa, did you even notice that i was coming home later than usual and getting up earlier than you?"

"yes, but i didn't think of anything of it." he confesses, "but i missed you in bed. i miss coming home to you and waking up next to you. i know most of those mornings we didn't even speak but i still cherished every moment with you."

a tear slips down his cheek as you immediately go to wipe it. you really want to believe the words he was saying. truly. but it seemed impossible.

"we'll talk when i get back. alright hwa?" you cup his face, using your thumbs to wipe anymore stray tears.

"but-"

you pry yourself from his grasp, heart cracking with each movement. "we'll talk when i get back."

the next morning, you followed through with your jeju trip with a heavy heart. clearly, you didn't have enough time to process what seonghwa had said to you before you left your flight. you promised yourself that this weekend was about you and your girls. you could think about hwa later.

however, you did the opposite. on the plane you couldn't even doze off as you looked at the plane solemnly still thinking about him. the first day of the trip didn't even go as well as you hoped even after downing a bottle and a half of soju.

you were crying in your shared hotel room with yeji who had to carry you back with the help of another friend.

the sobs you let out made your words incoherent and made you choke even more.

"y/n, baby you gotta breathe before you talk. let's calm down first and then you can tell me what's wrong." yeji brushes your hair back and wipes your never-ending tears.

she whispers to your other friend that she got it and that she can join the rest of the girls at the bar.

you let out a few more sobs before attempting to stop crying. "i-i-i-i, seonghw-a, wants to-to-to start ov-ver-ver."

"isn't that a good thing, y/n?" she asks, comfortingly stroking your head.

"y-ess, but i d-on't want to be hurt-t again." you sob even louder.

yeji pulls you into her arms as she rubs her hand against your forearm. "i don't think he'll hurt you again. trust me. he was the one who told me to take you shopping. he wanted to make sure he had enough time to cook for dinner. he wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you."

"r-really?" you look up through your blurry vision at your best friend. so seonghwa did care?

"yes, y/n. he literally begged over an hour for me to help him out. he really cares about you and your relationship. he understands now that he fucked up big time and he wants to try again."

"i wan-t-t to see him." you pout, "no-ow please."

"i'll get you home tomorrow but right now, you need to drink some water or you're going to regret it later honey."

"ok-ay, b-but tell h-hwa i love him p-please."

"of course."

the very next morning, you hopped on the next flight back to seoul with your heart beating out of your chest. you didn't even have the chance to properly explain to your friends what was going on. they weren't even awake when you left. yeji had promised to tell them that you had an emergency with seonghwa and had to fly back home immediately.

in a flurry, you sped through the gate and the city as you rushed back to your apartment. you needed to make it before seonghwa left for work. otherwise you were going to yank him out of whatever meeting he was in.

you hurriedly punched the keypad as soon with one hand lugging your suitcase. "seonghwa!" you call out, looking at the floor as you kicked off your shoes.

"y/n?" a familiar voice shouts back as your head perks up to see your husband with his tie hanging around his shoulders and the cuff of his shirt unraveled. "i thought you were supposed to back on monday?"

"i was but i needed to see you." you answer out of breath.

"are you okay? did something happen?" seonghwa asks as he places a hand on your back.

"did you really mean what you said on thursday." you fire, completely ignoring whatever he asked.

"of course, i did." he answers, scanning your face for any injuries. he cupped your cheeks ever so gently as if he was afraid you were going to break.

"i want to start over too." you puff out, nerves on fire. "i was too scared to say yes the first time. i didn't want to be disappointed again."

a shocked look took over seonghwa's features. for two reasons, one of them because he hurt you so badly that you didn't trust him and the other was that you wanted to start over too.

"we can start over again." he whispers as he brings your face close to his. "i'll call hongjoong to cover me for today."

"wait, what?" you shake your head in disbelief, no way was seonghwa taking a day off just for you. "but what about-"

"work can fuck off for a day." he mumbles as he stares down at your lips. "i want to spend time with you."

"seonghwa," you start but before you could finish, he interrupts you.

"can i kiss you?" seonghwa asks as you could feel his hands tremble on your face.

the man you married was drastically different than the one in front of you right now. the other one rarely showed any emotion and only strived for perfection in the business world; never sparing you a single thought or second. this seonghwa was more vulnerable. he wanted you just as much as you wanted him and although he sucked at communicating his feelings you could feel the sincerity in his actions that thursday night.

you liked this version of seonghwa more. you loved all the moments of him being shy and nervous.

"of course." you smile as you gaze into his eyes lovingly, "you're my husband after all."

a soft grin appeared on his lips before he closed the gap between you two. his soft lips felt like absolute heaven as you practically melted in his grasp. you wondered if his lips always felt this good.

but when seonghwa pulled apart, breathless and cheeks a soft pink, he muttered a quiet "thank you."

"for what?" you ask as you fiddle with your hands wrapped around his neck.

"for coming back to me."

[always-andromeda]

I'm Not Looking at Your Junk | Timothy Klitz x fem!Reader

Timothy Klitz x fem!Reader

Word Count | 6,206

Summary | Despite being an infamous prude, Timothy Klitz wasn't expecting it when you said you hadn't watched the sex ed tape he and his friends made during senior year. Little does he know, however, college has given you a chance to become a bit more experienced.

Author's Note | The way I love and hate this so much is ridiculous. I had to get this idea out of my head because it was just clawing at the inside of my skull!! Also, I called him Tim the entire time because I definitely would've been hella uncomfy in high school calling him Klitz all the time if this was an irl man??? I hope I did my man Klitzy justice because I love him so much. I am so nervous about posting this but fuck it!!!

Warnings | smut, (protected!) sex, loss of virginity, fingering, mentions of masturbation, mdni, please let me know if I need to add anything else!

You sighed as you flopped down on Timothy Klitz's couch. The cushions had flattened so much that you were only raised inches from the ground. Even though he was going to Yale, Tim and his two other roommates were set on spending the least amount of money possible to furnish the place. So when one of the guys found the couch free for the taking on the side of the road, of course he picked it up and had it hauled up the apartment stairs.

Tim didn't even know the guys that well. They were nice enough but obviously weren't his type of people. He was sure they'd drop out before the end of the year. But the two brothers were holding their own. Sent there with daddy's money, they'd refused to stay in the dorms where the campus security could bust them for underage drinking and the litany of drugs they were using. When Tim had found out that there weren't any dorm spaces left, he outsourced. The brothers wanted a third person to get in on the rent so they could spend more on supplies for their weekly parties. And with the meager pay Tim was making at his internship, their range met his budget.

On the bright side, their absences made it possible for you to visit more often.

You had your own dorm room but both of your roommates had boyfriends. Most nights you were stuck in your room listening to the sounds of intense lovemaking on the other side of one or two of your walls. That being said, Tim's sparsely decorated apartment with cracks in the drywall was clearly the better option to hang out in.

Tim wasn't complaining about it either. He'd known you since freshman year of high school and considered you one of his closest friends. Having Eli and Matt at his side made it a bit difficult to spend alone time with you. Any time Tim would tell Eli that he had to get off the phone because you were on your way over to his house, Eli would be wailing at the other end: Klitz, you better bang her. Or else I really might kill myself this time. In Eli's eyes, Tim was wasting a situation that was just dripping with erotic potential. She adores you, man. You could slap her ass in the middle of class and she'd thank you! Eli was so sure of himself.

Tim would never do that though. Sure, he liked you, but he couldn't imagine you seeing him in any similar way. You weren’t really the type to just hook up with some guy like it was nothing, especially if some guy was your nerd of a best friend. So just like every other weekend before, he shoved the video tape into the VCR and settled on the uncomfortable couch alongside you.

He'd found some horror flick at Blockbuster a few days before that he thought you’d get a kick out of. As terrible as the effects were in movies like this, the sight of even fake blood freaked him out. You made enough jokes to compensate for the moments where he got too queasy, but this one might be the death of him.

The dramatic title card flew towards the screen: Return of the Bloody Boogeyman!

Your face lit up at the text, already excited for what the night would bring. "You gonna tap out on me for this one?" you spoke teasingly.

He shook his head, brown hair flipping with the action, "You know, I am insulted you'd think I'm that much of a chicken." You laughed with a nefarious anticipation. You couldn't wait for when he would break and start gagging at the low budget visuals.

Of course it started with a completely clothed sex scene. Two teenagers packed into the back of a Cadillac convertible, gasping and moaning exaggeratedly. The black and white filter made it difficult to scrutinize what was going on in the darkly lit scene but the point was made very clear.

"God, it must have sucked having sex back then." you mused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not like people were casually hooking up all the time. You had to wait until you were married to some guy and even then, they'd probably be super disappointing in bed. But by the time you figured that out, you're locked in." You were talking with your hands now.

Tim wasn’t really used to talking about the topic of sex with you. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. "Yeah, that probably sucked." Agreeing would probably be his best bet, he decided.

"Now, we have whole instruction manuals to show us the way." You poked at his side. You occasionally teased him about the sex ed tape he and his friends had made on prom night. Though you'd been there that night, watching doors with Tim while Eli and his actors were filming, you had tried not to get too involved with the actual crew. The whole prospect was way too awkward.

It's kind of weird, isn't it? You had said to Tim as you two stood outside a classroom door, guarding it. Your voice was hushed with a tinge of anxiety behind it.

What's weird?  He said vaguely. 

I dunno, it's weird that right behind us are two pornstars just...hanging out in our English class... Tim had let out a stifled snicker. You all would've done anything to help Matt and Danielle out. But that didn't mean it wasn't super uncomfortable.

"Oh yeah, like that taught you some actual techniques." Everyone knew how reserved you'd been in high school. No matter how informative the video was, you were set on being as prudish as possible. 

"That tape didn't teach me jack shit." You spat.

Tim scrunched up his face and shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't think it was that bad. It wouldn't be selling so well if it was complete nonsense, right?"

"I wouldn't know how much of it is or isn't nonsense." You mumbled, finally having gotten to the end of your teasing. And Tim now got what you were hinting at.

He scoffed and looked at you with a cheeky grin, “You haven’t watched the video?”

“Why would I?”

“I dunno, I thought you’d have seen it by now. Everyone has.”

“I’m not everyone.” You gave him a pointed look that kept him quietly fiddling with his fingers for a few seconds, deliberating on if the matter was worth questioning further.

His curiosity got the better of him, “Why haven’t you seen it?”

“Oh my god, Tim, why do you even care?” You exclaimed.

“Nothing, I was just wondering why you wouldn’t have watched it. You were there when we filmed it.”

“I left the room for a reason.” You said indignantly. Tim stared, brow furrowed. Your exit from the library on prom night had been quite dramatic. You had watched April's manicured nails run down Tim's bare thigh and heard her comment on how cute he was. You saw the ecstatic smile that crept across his face. The nervous little blush that grew just beneath where his oval glasses perched on his pert nose.

Before that moment, you hadn't considered yourself possessive over him. But the way his eyes lit up at the comment made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you wanted to storm across the room and kiss him right on his stupid lips. But you weren't that girl then. What chance did you stand with him when he could easily land a pornstar? So you spun on your heel and left the room, grumbling something about checking the hall for chaperones from the prom. You didn't even get back in the limo with the rest of them at the end of the night, instead opting to go home with one of your other friends from homeroom. Then you never talked about that night again.

Though you most certainly were the type of girl who would angrily kiss him just to prove a point now, the memory made you feel that same seed of insecurity and inadequacy fester inside you. But Tim was still staring expectantly, waiting for you to explain yourself.

“Because I’m not looking at your junk, Tim.” You couldn’t bear to let your eyes meet his.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” You hoped that would end the line of questions he was throwing at you.

A few beats of silence passed. The movie still played but neither of you were paying too much attention to it anymore. How had the conversation turned to this? He was suddenly wondering if he was so repulsive to you that just the thought of him being naked could throw off your usual teasing mood entirely.

He spoke again. “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

You were annoyed now. If Tim knew what was good for him, he would've let the matter go entirely. “If I’ve never seen it, how could I think that there’s something wrong with it?” You said matter of factly through gritted teeth.

For a guy who was so smart, Timothy Klitz got in his own way quite often in these situations. He still wasn’t sure how to navigate a discussion like this. At some point, he’d have to stop feeling those butterflies in his stomach whenever sex or genitals were mentioned. But sometimes he still felt like he had about the same level of maturity as a pervy thirteen year old.

“Everybody says it’s big. Is that scary to some girls?” He wasn't trying to brag about it, honestly. But if there was something wrong with his size, he was sure you'd tell him about it. You typically weren’t afraid to be blunt about things.

“Oh, fuck off.” You didn’t need to be reminded of what people said about him. You being one of the handful of people who knew that it was his dick being described as “The Meat Rocket 3000” was life ruining. Of course you’d had a crush on Tim for years. Ever since the moment he’d nervously asked if you had a spare pencil during Algebra class in freshman year, you were head over heels for the gangly little nerd. He had a way of awkwardly nudging his way to your heart. Having any sort of awareness or perception of his dick made being his friend absolutely miserable. It was so much easier when you were pretending he was a featureless Ken doll down there.

“What?”

“You’re such an asshole.” You rolled your eyes and began to shake your leg, the anxiety setting in. This conversation was getting too personal for your liking.

“I’m just stating a fact!” He threw his hands up in defense.

An idea popped into your head. Maybe now he would shut up. “Think about it this way: imagine if you were watching a tape where someone was groping my tits. You’d never be able to look at me the same way.”

He absolutely could not think about it that way. Because the idea made him almost painfully hard. Fuck, he’d thought about groping your tits (and all your other parts) many times over. Mostly while he was jerking off or if you sat too close to him on a movie night or if you looked up at him through your lashes. Almost anything could get him going, if he thought about it for too long. He tried to casually hide his erection with the pillow under his arm, hoping and praying to every deity possible that you hadn’t noticed it.

The room had gone deadly silent and you beat yourself up internally. Even as the movie's monster, dripping with thick, sticky blood engulfed the couple in the car, Tim was all clammed up. No theatrical gagging or jokes. You shouldn’t have even said it. Now he was picturing your tits and it made things too weird. You guys had been friends for so long that he probably saw you as an annoying sister at this point. And no one wants to imagine their sister's tits no matter how big and squishy they might be.

“Tim?” You asked.

“Huh?” His voice cracked like he was going through puberty again.

“You got really quiet...” Crickets. “I didn’t make it weird, did I?”

“No! Of course not. It’s not weird at all.”

“Then why does your face look like that?” His eyes were fixed straight ahead of him and his lips formed a thin line. He looked like he wanted the couch to engulf him entirely. But it was the crimson blush that had spread over his almost pained expression that sent red flags up in your mind. 

He cleared his throat and straightened his posture, “This is how my face always is.”

“Shut up, I know what your stupid face normally looks like.” You quipped back.

“Your face is stupid…” He muttered.

“You’re gonna make fun of me now?” You needed a way to escape the awkward conversation and loosen him up again. You needed to convince yourself that Timothy Klitz was just your friend and would always be just that.

“You started it!” His voice raised a little, sensing the challenge laced into the edge of your words. You both picked on each other like this. It kept up the illusion that you two weren't hilariously and tragically in love with each other.

“Oh, I’ll start something.” You pounced at Tim’s side where you knew he was most ticklish.

Tim’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t even let himself laugh when you nearly tackled him flat on his back. With your knees planted on either side of his thighs, he was on the edge of hyperventilating knowing that the impact was imminent. If you moved any closer, his hard dick was going to be touching your crotch and everything was going to be a fucking mess. And before he could push you off, it was happening.

“Whoa, what the fuck?” You flew back as if he had the plague and pressed against the armrest on the other side of the couch. He sat up quickly and covered himself with his arms. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” His voice went high pitched. God, you were going to hate him forever.

“Oh my god. How long have you had that going on?” You tried to let out a laugh but it came awkwardly.

“A minute or so…”

You replayed the past few minutes over. Maybe it was the movie? The kissing couldn't have been that suggestive. You couldn't even see anything that well. Besides, that was a while ago. It couldn't be...was it? Your eyes went wide, realizing what got him so worked up. And his avoidant gaze only confirmed your suspicion. He had gotten hard thinking about you. The thought excited you more than you could’ve dreamed.

He felt so guilty. Not even the humiliation rushing through him could make the erection go away; at the worst possible moment of his life, it was proving to stand the test of time. You were going to think he was such a freak now. You’d stop going to his dorm and you’d never look back. Who wanted a friend who imagined them naked and popped boners at the thought? But against his judgment, you were creeping forward again and making a home between his legs. He watched as your hand extended towards one of his, currently shielding you from the single most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him.

“What are you doing?” He questioned.

“Just give me your hand.” Your voice was hushed and a little shaky.

Tim stalled. What you had planned for him he couldn't have predicted. You couldn't have possibly been enjoying this. Your worried expression indicated to him that you would rather be anywhere else.

You started over with a slow breath. He was overwhelmed, obviously. But you had to at least try to keep going. “You trust me, right?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Then give me your hand, please,” He couldn’t tell if you were annoyed at him or…begging?

His hand shook a little as you took it and gently moved it towards your lower half. You guided him until his hand disappeared beneath your skirt and the pads of his fingers were pressed against your underwear. Your underwear, already soaked with slick. The groan he let out made his own cheeks go red hot. You continued to brush his fingers back and forth against your clothed heat and took sharp breaths, your eyes fluttered closed. He was losing his mind seeing how you were using him like this. This couldn't be real. Call the coroner, because he must have died and gone to heaven. Here lies Timothy Klitz, he couldn’t handle touching a vagina.

Your voice was a little higher now. “That’s why I didn’t wanna look at your junk.”

“Oh, shit.” He moaned.

“Yeah. Shit.” You gasped a little as he absentmindedly kept his hand against you.

“What do we do now?”

“I mean…I got you started…I’m sure we could figure it out.” Your finger teased the edge of the collar on his button up shirt. Your face had gotten so much closer to his. Your warm breath was fanning across his cheek and before he could fully process it, you were peppering small kisses along his jaw. When did you get this alluring? Tim could feel himself practically melting at your needy touch. But he had to have more.

Tim turned his head to the side to capture your lips with his. It started sweet with his glasses slightly fogging up. The kiss quickly became feverish when you mounted his hips once more, hovering over his bulge. When your tongue entered his mouth, he knew for sure he was a goner. This time he was desperate for you to touch him again. He whined into your mouth, clearly frustrated over the contact that you were just dangling in front of him. 

In a brave move, he laid his hands on either side of your thighs and pushed you down onto his lap. Immediately and with a soft gasp of your own, you ground into him and began unbuttoning his shirt quickly. His pale chest now exposed, you ran a tentative hand along one of his pebbled nipples. He laid his head back and you went for the kill, sucking on his bobbing Adam’s apple and leaving more kisses along his long neck. This was the sort of moment you had been stopping yourself from picturing for years. 

“God, Tim, you’re so pretty.” You whispered against his skin. That snapped him out of his daze pretty quickly.

“Can I touch your boobs?” He asked in the most nonchalant inflection he could muster.

You almost laughed at his tone. His hardening length proved he was anything but uninterested in this position. In your first few months of college you'd already become acquainted with a handful of college guys who didn't ask what they could do. They just did it in the heat of the moment while pressing you against a wall in some dorm hallway. But Tim had always been faint of heart, only diving into something headfirst if his friends were doing it too. Then again, you'd both changed a lot since starting college.

"You can do anything that you want to me." You finally replied.

He was certain he was dreaming now. You had been such a puritan and now you were letting him do whatever his filthy heart desired? He decided that if there was a god, they must really be looking out for him. 

Your oversized t-shirt had hidden your chest's true form, but now that Tim was tugging it over your head and tossing it away, he couldn't ignore how pretty they were. Your tits hung just perfectly on you, soft and waiting to be played with by him. He cupped one gently, circling the nipple with his long finger. It wasn't the first time he'd felt a boob, but this was different. 

Right behind that boob was your heart. And yours was a heart that he had fallen so hard for. You were so smart and knew just how to make him laugh. You watched every dumb documentary he wanted to watch with him. Even back in high school you would be in his room, sticking out the late study nights, determined to get into the same school together. Through everything, you'd been right there making him feel like he was cool enough to be around a girl like you.

He couldn't keep his cool anymore. "Fuck, I like you so much." He sobbed as he kneaded your tit in his hand.

You smiled and tilted your head, "You do?"

With his eyebrows pinched together, he was practically glowing, finally being able to say it to you, "Of fucking course I do. You're so cool that I can't believe you'd pay any attention to me. I-I'm just some guy."

Your heart was soaring. You'd always kind of hated the idea of him seeing you in a purely sexual light. With the way Eli watched porn like they were Sunday morning cartoons, you figured that mentality had to have leaked into Tim's own mind. Despite being good friends with Tim, Eli, and Matt, there was always a layer of removal between them and you. And you liked it that way.

As the token girl of the group, you had heard plenty of your old classmates gossip over which one of your nerdy friends was going to end up banging you. You were a tough nut to crack and wouldn't fold to any guy who would give you the time of day. So the school populace decided that the nerds you hung out with on a daily basis were the most likely to bag you before graduation. But you made sure to prove all of their bets wrong.

"You're not just some guy.” You cradled the back of his head in your hands, combing your fingers through his long, fluffy hair, “Besides, you're my guy." Your words were pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He was flabbergasted that he hadn't cum yet. Not even when your hand went down to start undoing his khaki pants. But, fuck, his end was too close for comfort.

"Wait, I'm gonna cum." He stopped you quickly.

"Already?" This was so wickedly delightful. "I haven't even done anything."

"I know. But I haven't ever..." He trailed off. Despite you being not even an inch away from his dick, he wasn't quite sure how to tell you he hadn't had sex. Luckily, he didn't have to explain it.

You stopped dead in your tracks. "You're a virgin? I thought you lost it on prom night?"

"Oh, uhhh...no..." That was the second most embarrassing night of his life. April had told him he was cute. So of course he'd taken her home. Before now, that was the most attention he'd ever gotten from a girl. 

But when they actually got inside, it took about twenty seconds into her giving him a hand job before he came. April explained that it was natural, especially for a guy so new to the whole game. And while he appreciated her reassuring personality, he was so crushed that it killed any arousal he'd had left in him. He didn't think he'd be a sex god, but with how often he jerked off he thought he'd be able to last longer than that.

Aside from all of that, you had looked so gorgeous that night in your glittery, floor length prom dress. The excessive eyeliner lining your waterline and eyelid was a little intense but quickly became more sultry when you were standing under the dim lights of the high school halls. He even found himself swooning when you kept tripping over your heels. It gave him an excuse to keep his palm on your hip the majority of the night. He concluded that night that that was as far as things would ever go. You'd both go off to college together and find different people and any idea of being with you would be long gone. But there you both were, at the precipice of a new chapter of your relationship.

"You're a virgin too, right?" he asked suddenly, sure that you would say yes and quell his nerves.

"Not exactly," You pursed your glossy lips.

"Shit, really?" You were pretty, yeah, and any guy would be stupid to not want you. But Tim hadn't expected you to have gotten around so quickly. Part of him still saw you as the girl who would shy away from allusions to sexuality.

You rolled your eyes. "It didn't really mean anything. Like my first few times were with Jason from Intro to Philosophy. But he never made me...finish?" Those had been disappointing times. You’d spent all of high school telling yourself you’d wait until college before letting a guy touch you. You were confident for some reason that college guys would be so much more mature about sex than any of your high school classmates. By now, you knew that you were very wrong.

Tim vaguely remembered you talking about a cute guy with that name. He'd been insanely jealous but had ignored the ugly feeling, convinced that nothing would come of your comments about him. You'd never pursued a guy like that before so why would you now? He wouldn't have guessed that the few nights you'd skipped out on movie night had been because Jason had been failing to make you cum. But of course Jason was just a clueless meathead who didn't think about your pleasure.

"I can try to make you finish." He said quickly, trying not to trip over the proposal.

"Tim, if it's gonna be your first time then I doubt you're going to make me-"

"I want to try. If I don't try, what kind of guy does that make me?"

You admired his sense of chivalry. What would be the harm in trying?

With your gentle, encouraging smile, Tim felt confident enough to let you keep undressing him. Butt naked on his own couch, he had never been more grateful that his roommates were party guys. There was no chance they'd be walking in on this. More exposed than ever, he was rock solid, cock bobbing against his abdomen.

The sight of him had your stomach doing backflips. You were so glad that this was his debut for you. His face had been covered in the tape. His throbbing cock paired much better with you being able to see his ruined expression, swollen lips parted in preparation. You grabbed a condom from your bag on the floor and ripped it open quickly. Tim was over the moon that it was you putting the condom on him this time.

When you pulled your panties aside and lowered onto him, the startling stretch made you hiss through your gritted teeth. You were sure he could split you in half just sitting there. Tim was right there with you, buried completely inside you, surrounded by your slick, silky walls. He wanted to move so badly but he knew he had to wait for you. You bounced once, testing the waters, your tits moving with you. When you landed again, you had to hold on tight to his button up shirt, still hanging off his shoulders.

Tim couldn't stay put, his hips were bucking up sloppily, thrusting impossibly deeper up into you. You got the hint and began to match his pace. You also came to learn very quickly that Tim was loud. He muttered a string of curses between low groans that bubbled in his throat. When the two of you were moving in harmony, he was seeing stars. For all of ten seconds after that, Tim was euphoric. Sweat dripped down his forehead under his bangs and it was just beginning to form on his upper lip too. Before he knew it, his climax culminated in a massive shudder of pleasure that coursed throughout his whole body, making him hold onto your hips for dear life. The last of his energy was spent cumming inside of you.

As soon as he went still, the arousal that had been building in your abdomen withered away. You couldn't say you were disappointed in him. If anything, it made you kind of proud of yourself. After a few seconds of listening to him groaning, coming down from the high, you dismounted him and dropped back on the couch next to him. Your skirt had ridden up during the experience so you adjusted it and rested your head on his bare shoulder, a small smirk playing on your face.

"That was fucking great." He breathed out.

"I'm glad." You looked up at the side of his face and placed a quaint, loving kiss on his freckled shoulder.

He was silent for a little while longer until he looked over at you, "You came, right?"

You giggled, "No, silly. But it's fine, I didn't expect you to make me come our first time."

Tim shook his head quickly, "No, it's not fine. It's not." He wanted to be good at this. 

Theoretically, he had all the equipment needed to get the job done. His technique was...less than ideal. He didn't want to be like that flake, Jason, leaving you all high and dry. 

"Hey, you don't need to beat yourself up." You said reassuringly and massaged his shoulder. You were leaning down to pick up your discarded shirt when Tim started to kiss up your shoulder to the back of your neck.

"Put that down," He spoke huskily, taking the shirt from your hands, "You don't need that yet."

You reclined back and Tim refocused his attention to your collarbone, "What are you doing?" You asked breathily. His hands roamed greedily up your sides, feeling up every inch that he possibly could.

"I said I wanted to make you cum." He whispered into the crook of your neck, "I just might need your help doing that, though." As assertive as he sounded, you detected his lack of experience and the nerves behind the words.

"Okay," You replied quietly. 

Tim adjusted so his back was against the arm of the couch. He nodded towards your bottom half, "Can you take those off for me?" So you stood, sliding your panties and skirt down in one slow motion, the garments pooling on the carpet as you stared into his eyes. Tim just stared and swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.

When you were done, he was motioning for you to sit between his legs. You followed his directions. Half hard again, you felt him press against your back. The sensation made you shiver a little. His mouth was giving light kisses on your shoulder and his long hair tickled the back of your neck.

"So, what do you want me to do?" He asked earnestly. He hoped that in your sexually active months on campus, you'd already discovered what you liked because he sure as hell didn't know what he was doing.

You thought back to his hand pressed against your heat and how divine his fingers had felt down there and blurted out, "Your hand. I want you to use your fingers” And then quickly tacked on, “Please."

He brought his hand around to your front, taking his time running his fingers down your abdomen until they were hovering over your cunt. You were on edge, just waiting for him to work some sort of magic on you. But you had to stay patient. You had to show him the ropes a bit. He was a novice in this area. So you placed your hand on top of his again, eager to be his guide to bringing you to your peak. You brought him to your folds, made him drag his fingers across them. 

You stopped right at the nub near the top, "Do you know what that is?" You asked faintly through a gasp.

Through his own volition, he flicked a fingertip over the bundle of nerves with the tips of his fingers, making you twitch a little in his arms. Making that sex ed tape had taught him just enough. 

"The clitoris?" He answered, all too happy knowing that he was right. He felt you nod against his shoulder.

"Then that means..." He trailed off and separated from your grasp, bringing his fingers back to your folds. He slipped one between them, covering it in your slick. The muscles in your cunt quivered, looking to clench around something substantial. Before any arousal could blossom there, he pulled his finger out and looked at the digit, glistening in the light.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he said under his breath with the smallest smile forming across his face.

Your frustrated voice broke his fascination. "Tim, baby, I know you're having fun right now but I really need you to do something now." The desperation dripping from the sentence made him more proud of himself than apologetic.

"Oh, yeah, shit. Sorry." He muttered. You managed a little giggle despite how exasperated he was making you. It was kind of cute, especially when you compared it to your other sexual encounters. He was such a dork. But he's your dork now.

You couldn't have imagined his long, thin fingers feeling so comforting. You hummed contently as you felt the flame deep within you begin to grow. When he got two fingers in, it wasn't quite as filling as his impressive length. But it would still work. As long as he kept pumping steadily the way he was, you had a one way ticket to cumming all over his fingers.

"Faster, please," You requested, your hips bucked into his movements, trying to get him deeper as his fingers barely brushed against your g-spot. He willingly obliged, quickening his pace, taking your whines to mean he was doing something right. But he still felt something was missing. He swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn't fuck up his rhythm as he took his thumb and started to rub rough circles around your clit. To his surprise, the contact made you throw your head back onto his shoulder and arch against his chest.

You gasped, "Oh, Klitzy, fuck, right there," For years you'd refused to call him by his last name like all his friends did. At one point, the nickname left you feeling uneasy, almost a mockery of how you felt about him. But now it seemed fitting. After all, that was the spot he was hitting with his thumb right then.

A shameless grin had formed on Tim’s flushed face as you sputtered bits of praise and curses at him. He was sure you were close when your voice broke. Never in all his life did he think he could have this sort of effect on someone. But, god, it left him knowing that it was you in his lap.

Your impending orgasm had your vision going white and fuzzy at the edges. You clenched your jaw, working through the intense impact that had your hips spasming against Tim’s thighs. You loved him. As you let out a final cry, you realized it fully.

All Tim could think about was how much he was enjoying all this. The scent of your perfume on your neck and sweat forming on your heated figure. The sight of your mouth gaping open, unable to hold back the strangled sounds of your pleasure. The filthy sound of his fingers moving in and out with that undeniable squelch. The feeling of your legs jittering against his and your cunt squeezing around his fingers as you released all the pent up friction. He would gladly do this all day if you would let him.

He slowly worked you through the aftershocks of your climax by languidly massaging your slit with his slick fingers. You were humming quietly, now sunken into the lazy tranquility of Tim's presence, occasionally jolting when he stimulated you too much. You felt boneless in his arms. This was paradise, you were convinced.

"Did I do good?" The question was quiet but brimming with delight in your ear. Like he knew the answer but was hesitant to let himself believe it.

You tipped your head a little further, realizing how much you'd slunk down in his grasp. "You've got to be kidding me." You exhaled heavily and shook your head.

"What?"

"You just want me to say you did good?" Your nose scrunched up.

"It would be nice to hear." He said hopefully.

You turned around to face him, resting shakily on your knees. "Tim, you did better than I ever could've imagined."

"Your imagination must be pretty boring then." He snickered.

"You idiot, just take the compliment." You cupped his cheeks with your hands and kissed him tenderly before he could give another smart ass response.

"Sorry I couldn't make you cum the first time." He apologized when you parted from him.

You simply laughed and bit your lip teasingly. "Maybe next time, Meat Rocket 3000."

[oh-katsuki]

thinkin’ about big brother bakugou coming home drunk to fuck his pretty little stepsister 

tw: stepcest, dub/noncon, drug use, breeding, finger choking, creampie, aged-up characters

MINORS DNI

step brother bakugou who loves his new little sister so much. she’s only a few years younger than him, college age and quirkless, living in the family home with him as he tries to get his start as a pro-hero. with his flashy quirk, its not hard to quickly move through the ranks, but he finds each day testing his patience a little more. 

he finds himself disappointed when he doesn’t get home in time for dinner or before you head to bed. bakugou hates missing out on seeing you shuffle down the hall in those hot pink panties and oversize top. you think he doesn’t notice when you do it, too lazy to toss on pajama bottoms as you go to use the bathroom or brush your teeth, but he does. bakugou always sees you through the crack in his door, body leaning gently against the frame so as to not disturb it. 

it became somewhat of a sinful nightly routine, watching you in the bathroom through the crack, palming himself through his shorts as you lean over the vanity to apply some skin cream he didn’t give a fuck about. until his hours got longer and suddenly he only saw you on weekends.

it wasn’t all bad though, because now his pretty little sister wanted to spend her saturdays with him on the couch, which means katsuki gets to watch you slut around the house in those tiny sleep shorts. he wanted you so bad that it hurt, gut twisting, constantly needing to adjust himself in his pants because everything you did got him riled up. what’s worse is that once he got to know you better, he found that you were quite a doting sister, hanging off his arm and asking to sit in his lap. 

fuck, you drove him crazy with want. it was ridiculous how whipped he was  at the prospect of getting a taste of the pretty cunt between your legs. he’d do anything if it meant he got to fuck you stupid, do anything if it meant he’d get to keep those boys you call friends the fuck away from you. katsuki swears that if you weren’t his little sister, if it weren’t so taboo, that he’d have you under him every fucking day. 

sure, he felt guilty about it, but in the end he chalked it up to human nature. katsuki couldn’t even try denying his attraction to you because he thinks that anyone who isn’t is a fucking idiot. god, he’d have to be brain dead to not want to stink his cock between your thighs and fuck you silly. and he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. 

you thought your new big brother was... needlessly attractive. he made your tummy twist into knots each time he got close, each time you got a whiff of the unique smell his quirk gave off after a day of hero work. so foreboding and with such a presence, not to mention that he was huge and looked at you like he was ready to devour you. and fuck, that uniform. just the thought of it had you creaming yourself nightly to the thought of him, fingers prodding at your puffy clit until it was sore. 

so it was safe to say that by the time he paid the price of fame and his hours got upped again, the tension between you two was insurmountable and katsuki was at his wits end. he was hanging on by a thread, fucking his fist to the thought of you asleep in bed down the hall, what you might look like crying beneath him while he stuffs you full of his thick cock. 

it was filthy, the way his mind ran wild each night, so wild that he swore he could hear you purring and keening in your room at night, whining his name. maybe you did the same, he thought, hand slipping beneath his waistband. maybe you fucked yourself on those little fingers of yours, whining because they could never fill you up like your big brother can. 

however, all of that wanting came to an end after a particularly long night of drinking. 

katsuki didn’t drink often unless it was the occasional beer before dinner, but tonight he was invited out with some colleagues and decided fuck it. he’d spent so many of the previous evenings frustrated out of his mind, spilling over his chest and fucking himself out to the thought of you. he knows that as soon as he walks into the house, he’d be filled with that same frustration. so he stays out, accompanying red riot and deku for drinks. 

saying he got carried away was an understatement, even to the point that kirishima was giggling through a drunken haze at just how loose katsuki had gotten. by the time he left the bar, his head was so fuzzy with alcohol that he couldn’t see straight, parting from his friends with a gentle wave. 

n then he came home to you, shutting the door to the house as silently as possible, locking it before heading up the stairs to where he knew you’d be sleeping. he was too drunk to think about what he was doing, all he knew was that he needed you, needed to feel you, fill you up. so he cracked your door open and there you were, splayed across the bed, t shirt riding up your abdomen and little panties exposed to the cold air of the room which grew thick in an instant. 

katsuki could see the wet spot on you as he locked the door and padded into the room, no doubt leftover from the way you’d desperately humped your fingers to the thought of him earlier in the night. he leaned over you, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as he called your name to rouse you from sleep. 

“katsu...?” you mumbled, squinting in the dark to see his figure hovering over you. “w-what’s wrong?”

fuck, you sounded so innocent, so fucking tempting with that little upward lilt in your voice, heavy with sleep.

“want you... so fuckin’ bad.” he slurred his words slightly, dragging his hand up the inside of your thigh before resting over your crotch. 

“katsu, no... we shouldn’t.” you said in a hushed whisper, eyes widening as they darted to the bolted door. “my dad is down the hall... it’s wrong.” 

“but do you want me?” he asked, insisting, crimson eyes staring past you and scanning over your body. his fingers pressed against your entrance through your panties, earning himself a whine muffled by closed lips. “I think ya do.” 

n you looked up at him with wide eyes, head falling back before you took your lip between your teeth and nodded slowly, a whimper falling from your lips. katsuki was on you faster than you could register, his fingers pulling your panties to the side roughly, calloused digits working against your clit and feeling just how slicked up you’d become. 

“so fuckin’ wet.” he growled into your ear, wasting no time dipping his fingers into your soaking cunt, curling upwards. 

god, you were tight. like a fucking virgin as he plunged his fingers into you, roughly spreading your thighs apart so he could get better access as he held his weight up on his other arm. 

“k-katsu... w-wait!” you squeaked out, hand grabbing his forearm as he pumped his fingers inside of you. 

it was fast, overwhelming and entirely too much. though you couldn’t deny that it was exactly the way you’d expected katsu to fuck and god, you were salivating, legs already beginning to tremble.

he couldn’t wait though, so fucking desperate for you as he finger fucks you into silence, kissing you with a rough tongue that lacks the delicate touch of the other boys you’ve kissed. katsuki just loves his little sister too much to stop before she’s creamed on his fingers. he waited far too long for this to not watch her come undone over and over again. 

“y’gonna cum? dirty fuckin’ girl, so pretty.” he babbled as he watched you, your breath picking up as climbed to your orgasm, legs shifting on the bed. he brought his thumb down to your clit, eyeing you. “c’mon, show big brother how this pussy creams.” 

n you do, like a good fuckin’ girl. you cream over his fingers with a whine while his free hand comes to soothe your hair down as he fucks you through it, fingers never leaving that spongey spot inside of you. 

“that’s a good girl,” he coos. “gonna give me another, yeah? on m’fuckin’ tongue?” 

and katsuki drops down, lifting your hips from the bed and connecting his lips to the little bud between your legs, tongue dipping to tease at your cute hole. he can feel the way your legs tremble as he holds you up to make a meal out of you, the little gasps and whines that break from your lips as he explores you with his tongue only drive him to press the pad of it to your hardened clit. 

he’s rough with it and with no regard for your previous orgasm, threatening to bring you to another as he slides his fingers back into you. 

“so wet f’me.” he practically moans into you. “tastes so fuckin’ good. could stay in front of this pretty pussy all day.” 

his eyes meet yours, watching your expression, catching your embarrassed gaze as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. 

“this is my pussy, right?” he mumbles into you. “all fuckin’ mine now.”

n you nod, so close to spilling over the edge, so stupid on his tonuge that you can’t focus. you’ll say anything if it means that he’ll plug you with the thick stretch of his cock. katsuki groans into you, sending vibrations through your leaking cunt and pushing you well over the edge, your hand flying over your mouth to silence yourself. 

before you can register it, he’s back over you, eyes drinking in your figure. 

“gonna have to shut you the fuck up, huh?” he growls, lining himself up with your entrance and sliding his thick digits into your mouth. “gonna have to be quiet if you want this cock.” 

you nod in obedience, taking his fingers into your mouth and letting him gag you while he spears you through, stretching you open with the fill of your step brother’s length. n katsuki finally gets to fuck his pretty little sister, fuck her stupid with her panties sloppily pushed to the side because he was too fuckin’ excited to pull them off. gets to watch her cream over his cock over and over again, until he was sure that everyone in the house knew just who was fuckin’ her so well. 

katsuki stuffs you full, fills you with him, breeds that tight little cunt of yours with a groan and a mutter of oh fuck, fuck yeah take it. take m’fuckin’ cum, dirty bitch. 

a/n: wrote this this morning because I couldn’t get it out of my head