#he’s trying to help he’s just. bad at it.

[yeyinde]

psychic!Reader being relentlessly stalked and terrorised by dead!Ghost.

He's not sure how he died, but considering the aura he has wrapped around him, it was vicious and violent. And while you're no stranger to helping the dead cross over when they need it, but he can't. Or won't. Everything you try doesn't work, and he soon decides that he's fine with that.

Prefers, instead, to follow you around. And at first, it's fine. He explores the world around him—intangible, untouchable—and asks snarky questions about why you're the only the one who can see him. How this came to be. But then he grows bored. Restless. Shifts into bad jokes. Taunts.

Finds the most amusement, though, in muttering in your ear about all the filthy things he'd do to you if he had his body back—in broad daylight, no less. All explicit, ugly things about testing your flexibility. Bending your knees to your ears. Getting that pretty little mouth on his cock—

Watches you shower. Drawls about having you put on a show for him. Slides into the bed with you when he can manipulate and solidify his form better. Icycold hands against your breasts. Squeezing your ass.

Most ghosts continue with their routine. Go on with their lives. Cogs in the machine. But he spends his time messing with you.

The problem, however, is that ghosts can only do much to interact with the physical world. Knocking things over. Stomping their feet down the halls. Saying a word. A name. A whisper. Cold air. Static. A slamming door.

But Simon's pinches hurt. His hand sometimes feels warm when he cups your beasts, or curls his palm over the nape of your neck, pulling you toward his groin only to huff when your face slips through it.

"not there yet, are we?" he drawls, but holds you there anyway just because he can.

Sometimes you have to remind yourself he's a ghost. A spectre. He can't really hurt you.

But when he nuzzles his face into your neck, and bites down so hard it burns, you find yourself unable to explain the raw, bloodied imprint of his teeth there the next morning. Or how warm, how solid, his body feels when he pulls you against his chest, hands groping at you as he stares at the mark he left with something primal twisting across his once pellucid face. Darkening with malintent. Desire.

Maybe you should have taken his threats a little more seriously after all.

[taeghi]

FAST LANE

his criminal background profile || his insta

sunghoon has a need for speed, and yn has a knack for getting under his skin— now they're playing a dangerous game, and the stakes? so much higher than they expected.

pairing : car thief!sunghoon x sarcastic!yn

genre : smut, light humour?? idk angst

wc : 12k.

part of the criminal love series

minors DO NOT interact!!!!

you swing open the backdoor of the club and it hits the brick wall behind it, but you don’t care. you just want to get the hell out of there. you huff and pull out your pack of cigarettes, putting it in your mouth and lighting it. 

when the nicotine enters your lungs, you start to feel a little less overwhelmed. 

you pull out your phone, briefly looking over all your unanswered texts that you’ve sent to your friends. they had begged you to come out with them tonight, but within the first hour all three of them had ditched you for some random guys. 

“fuck this weekend,” you mutter to yourself, exhaling the smoke frustratingly. 

the backdoor of the club leads to a practically deserted street that only has one street lamp that lights up the space around you.  you open the uber app and call one for yourself, wanting to just go home and go to bed. you can hear the slight thump of the bass from the music in the club behind you and some traffic from the nearby streets. you confirm your ride after you sigh at the price of it. 

then, a sudden movement in your peripheral vision takes your attention away from worrying about your bank account to looking across the street. you see a figure in all black hunched over a parked, black car. you can tell from his movements that he’s obviously trying to pick the lock. 

you glance both ways down the street to see if anyone else is seeing what you’re seeing, but it’s just as dead as it was when you came out. there’s no one around except for you and this apparent car thief. 

“you’re joking,” you mutter, the cigarette between your lips wobbling as you speak. 

you take a moment to consider your options. you know you should just ignore him and wait for your uber to take you to your warm bed. but the way he’s so obviously picking the lock of this car annoys you. 

you huff in frustrations before you take the first step off the club’s step and walk across the street to the thief in all black. 

“you know, breaking into cars is illegal,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you. he doesn’t let go of the car handle as he turns to look at you. 

he gives you a once-over, basically judging your appearance with not a hint of shame. a small grin spreads across his face, “oh really? thanks for the legal advice, counselor.” 

you can’t help but contort your face into one of disgust at his response. you cross your arms over your chest as you stay put. the man seems so casual and confident about breaking into this car with you standing right there. he seems almost amused by your presence. 

“well i’m just saying, if you’re gonna break into a car, maybe make sure no one else is around.” 

he doesn’t say anything but he laughs lowly as he finally pops open the car’s lock. he swings open the door and leans on it with an accomplished expression on his face. his stance allows the distant street light to gleam over his face, letting you get a better look of his face. his sharp jawline, deep brown eyes and moles make him insanely hot. 

“you should get out of here, sweetheart,” he says honestly, “a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be caught up at a crime scene.” 

you scoff, not believing the criminal is telling you what to do, “i can do what i want.” 

his face only stays in his amused expression, “well of course,” he spins and bends down to sit in the driver’s seat, “but you know smoking cigarettes is bad for you.”

your lips curl in annoyance from his mocking. before you can say anything else to the criminal, he’s slamming the door shut and throwing the car into drive. he winks at you through the window before he steps on the gas, taking off down the street. 

suddenly, a honk from behind startles you and forces you to turn around. your uber is pulled over, the driver calling you over. you whip your head back around to see the car thief, but his fast car is long gone. 

you huff and walk to your uber, getting in the backseat and saying hello to the driver. you settle into the seat as your driver pulls off the curb and you notice the way your skin is pringling. the adrenaline rushing through you causes your heart to stutter in your chest. all you can think of is the thief and the way he was so nonchalant and confident throughout the entire encounter. you had never met someone like him before. 

you try to relax, wanting to shake off the adrenaline so you can crawl into bed as soon as you get home.

you didn’t even want to go out tonight in the first place. 

the next week, your friends had somehow dragged you to another club with the promise of  “this one will be better”. you’re not there for long and you’re already regretting agreeing to come. you head to the bar for another drink. 

you tell the bartender your order and he turns to start to make it. you notice a man standing beside you, and when you look at him, you instantly recognize him. it’s him. the car thief from the week before. the man you’ve been thinking about all week. 

his eyes find yours instantly, noticing your staring, and the smirk you’ve memorized spreads slowly across his face, “so… you’re stalking me now?”

you snort, “in your dreams.” 

he leans  in closer to you, to make sure that you can hear him over the music, “well i wouldn’t mind dreaming about you.” 

you choose to ignore him, “aren’t you worried i might, i don’t know… spill your little car-stealing secret?” 

“no”

“and why not?” 

you watch as his eyes scan your entire face, and then swivel down to your body. you feel your cheeks lighten because of him practically analyzing your entire being with no shame. 

“that’ll be eight bucks,” the bartender's voice beats you to saying anything. before you can reach for your wallet, the thief is dropping the money on the counter. you open your mouth to stop him, but the bartender scoops up the money and leaves to serve another customer. 

“y/n! what’s taking so long? come dance with me!” your friend’s impatient voice is clear in your ear as her hand lands on your shoulder and spins you around to face her. you turn your head back around to where the thief was standing, but of course, he’s already gone. 

your friend narrows her eyes, “who was that guy?” 

“i don’t know… but he bought me a drink.” 

your friend nudges you, wiggling her eyebrows, but you just laugh her off. you lead her back to your friend group so you can all dance again. but throughout the whole night, you find yourself glancing over your shoulder, searching for a glimpse of the car thief in the crowd. he never reappears, and you’re left with a weird mix of disappointment and relief. 

after all, he is a criminal, why would you be looking for him?

“night guys!” you call out to the rest of your coworkers, who have to stay late to clean the kitchen. 

you had to stay late at work tonight since saturday nights are usually the busiest time for you. so when you step out into the cool night air and away from the sweaty kitchen, you instantly need to light up a cigarette to take the edge off. you tuck your apron into your purse as you take the first puff for your walk home. 

you don’t get far into your smoke or walk before you hear the engine of a car pull up beside you. you don’t recognize the car, but you sure enough recognize the driver. his cocky grin fills his entire face as he leans on his elbow against the open window. 

“really? you stalking me now?” you question him as he slows down the car, matching your walking pace. 

“want a ride? or are you just gonna walk all night?” 

you don’t slow down, keeping your walking pace steady as you drag on your cigarette. you’re trying your best to not look so affected by his presence. “i can walk. unlike you, i don’t need a stolen car to get places.” 

he laughs and it makes your stomach flip. “okay, but this one isn’t stolen, sweetheart.” 

your eyes narrow at the pet name, but you don’t slow down your pace, “yeah, right.” 

“seriously!” he insists, “it’s my friends! he let me borrow it!” you glance at him, and he can tell you’re not convinced. “i swear! i wouldn’t let you get in a stolen car.” 

the last part makes something shift inside of you– something similar to disappointment. but you stop walking, mid-step, like your body’s decided before your mind has even begun to process it. 

he notices, and the car comes to a smooth stop right beside you. the street is silent, and it’s just you and him looking at each other, waiting. 

“okay, let me in.” 

he doesn’t hesitate to reach over the centre console and open the door for you at your request. 

you slide into the passenger seat and settle in, the car’s leather seats are cool beneath– but it’s a lot warmer in the car than it is outside. you shut the door, and without missing a beat, the thief shifts gears and pulls away from the curb. the city lights flicker past you as the car picks up speed quickly. 

you direct him towards your apartment as he tears down the streets. you wish he wouldn't drive so fast, just so that you could stay beside him longer. 

“so, why’re you walking so late at night anyways, don’t you know it’s dangerous?” he says, questioning you. 

“i got off work late.” 

“where do you work?” 

“ronnie’s,” you say, gesturing down the street behind you, “you know, down the block.” 

he nods, he knows the exact place. 

“why are you driving around so late?” you question him now. 

he shrugs, “had stuff to do.” 

“like what? stealing cars?” 

he laughs over the steering wheel, “no, not tonight. i had to pick up a payment for one.” you roll your eyes and scoff, turning to look out the window again. “what? you were the one who asked.” 

you don’t say anything in response. you’re second guessing as to why you even got in the car with him. you know that he’s bad news– but you’ve been so intrigued by him since you first met. he talks too casually about what he does, he’s completely fearless. 

“so, why do you steal cars, anyways?” 

he doesn’t need to think about his answer, he keeps the  fast speed of the car  as he answers, “because i need the money. and it’s a lot of money, and it’s quick.” 

you glance over at him, your curiosity creeping in about him and the cars. you wonder how much money he gets. “how do you even do it?” 

he glances at you, a doubtful look on his face, “i’m not telling you.” 

“why not?” 

the criminal doesn’t shift his focus from the road as he smirks, “because you’d get caught– and you shouldn’t always be in dangerous situations.” 

you scoff, “i am not always in a dangerous situation.” 

he dryly chuckles as he rests his elbow on the window, his head falling to his arm, “are you forgetting that you i met you because you walked up to me while i was literally committing a crime?” 

your mouth gaps open but nothing comes out. you can’t find anything to say, so you instead cross your arms tighter and look back out the window. you don’t mean to be in “dangerous” situations, but you can’t help but crave something new and adventurous sometimes. 

the rest of the drive to your apartment is silent besides the low volume of the radio playing some song you don’t know. thankfully, since he’s speeding, so you get to your apartment quickly so you can get out of this awkward hell. part of you wants to run out of the car as soon as he stops, but the other part of you wants to stay with him for longer. you want to talk with the man who’s been taking up your mind for weeks now. 

but, when the car slows to a stop outside of your apartment, your hand is quick to reach the door handle. you look at him, not knowing exactly what to say besides, “thanks.” 

he smirks at you, “just, stay out of trouble, sweetheart.” 

“my name is y/n! stop calling me that.” 

the thief’s smile turns into a mischievous smile and you hate that it makes your heart skip a beat, “i’m sunghoon.” 

sunghoon. the name rings in your head. you hadn’t expected him to have such a soft name. you can’t decide if it suits him or not. you stand up out of his car and onto the sidewalk. 

“good night, y/n.” 

“night, sunghoon.” 

you turn and head to the front door of your apartment building. you don’t hear the loud screech of the car’s tires until you’re safely inside.

you’re walking home from your friends house, your lighter is almost out of fuel as you try to light your cigarette. the lit cigarette lights up your face in the dark night. you pass by the city’s old car dealership– the one who’s always trying to sell some broken down car– and you see the all too familiar figure in all black, hunched over a black sedan. 

you smirk around your cigarette, shaking your head as you cross the empty street and duck through the gate of the dealership. 

“really?” you ask, your hand on your hip as you watch him jump slightly. he glances over his shoulder in shock, but once he realizes it’s you, you can see his whole body relax. 

“why’re you here?” 

“because i saw you.” 

he rolls his eyes as he goes back to picking the sedan’s lock, “you’re not helping me jack this car, y/n.” 

you can’t hide the annoyed pout on your face, “who said i wanted to?” 

you hear sunghoon chuckle deeply, his attention on the lock as he speaks, “because i can tell you want to. and beside the fact that you’re still standing here while i commit a crime and you’re not screaming for help.” 

“well, i can scream for help if you want me to.” 

sunghoon glances over his shoulder at you, an annoyingly amused smirk on his face, “you wouldn’t dare.” 

your eyes narrow in response, you don’t like how he can seemingly always look right through you. it’s like he knows that all week, the thought of the large amount of money you could make by stealing one car has kept you up at night. how just one theft could change your financial life, just for a bit. money has always been tight for you, you’ve always lived paycheck to paycheck since you were a child. so, stealing one car with him wouldn’t hurt anyone, but it would help your wallet. 

then, a loud bang echoes through the dealership. it makes both you and sunghoon jump back as it cuts through the quiet night. 

“who’s out here? you better leave!” an angry, male voice yells out to the parked cars. 

before you could react, sunghoon is pulling  you down to the pavement with him, using the sedan to cover yourselves from the man’s view. you glance at sunghoon, who only brings his index finger to his mouth to signal for you to stay quiet. his hand is still on your wrist as you both crawl to the passenger side of the sedan. 

you can feel your heartbeat pick up it’s pace as you hide, pressed up against the sedan’s cool metal. you’re sure your eyes are blown out in fear. sunghoon looks the complete opposite of you. his eyes are steady and his hands are shaking like yours are. your heavy breaths make sunghoon look at you, quickly covering your mouth with his warm hand. 

you hear footsteps approaching your position, rocks rolling as the man’s foot kicks them with his steps. and then– a metallic click. a gun. 

if it wasn’t for sunghoon’s hand over your mouth, you think you would’ve screamed. you stay quiet, your eyes locked on sunghoon’s clam ones ass you listen to the man’s footsteps. they seem tomove farther away from the sedan. sunghoon pulls his hand away from you, “stay here.” 

before you could protest, he slips around the car, leaving you alone against the car, imagining what would happen if the man with the gun catches you. you force yourself to be quiet, waiting for anything to happen, telling yourself that sunghoon’s got it under control. 

then, the passenger door by your head clicks open. sunghoon is in the car, waving his hand for you to get in, “quick.” with no hesitation, you jump inside the car, closing the door after you as quiet as possible. you duck down, trying to hide against the seat. sunghoon is working underneath the steering wheel– until the engine comes to life, breaking any silence that was left in the dealership. 

“hey! what do you think you’re doing?” the man’s voice is louder and even more angry as sunghoon steps his foot on the pedal, causing the car to rush forward. sudden gunshots make you flinch as sunghoon drives forward, ripping through the gates and floors it onto the empty streets. you can’t count how many gunshots you heard, they kept firing after the car until finally the dealership was out of sight. your grip on the door handle beside you makes your knuckles turn white. 

the car’s speed scares you as sunghoon swerves through the city. he keeps switching his attention from the street in front of him to you beside him. 

“are you okay? are you hurt?” his voice comes out as frightened and rush, the first time you’ve seen him like this. 

“i’m fine, i’m fine! just– drive!” you force it out so he can focus on driving and getting you the hell out of there. 

sunghoon nods and steps on the gas some more, speeding through the city. you can barely see anything out the window from how fast sunghoon is driving– only flashes of the lights from the street lamps and stores. he’s quick to leave the city, driving down dirty country roads where the lights turn into tall dark trees. 

sunghoon stops the car when a break in the trees is found. he pulls the car into it and you can see the entire city below you. everything is quiet now that you’re away from the city. he cuts the engine. 

your chest is still heaving from the adrenaline when you look over at him, his eyes looking at yours at the same time. when you look at him, the mood in the car changes from panic to relief. relief that you got away, that sunghoon got away safely.

you’re the first one to let out a little chuckle, realization starting to take over. but then sunghoon cracks his own smile,  a laugh following soon after. then, the car is filled with both of you losing it, your eyes squinting from laughing so hard in realizing what had just happened. the adrenaline rush has turned from fear into excitement. 

before you can even think, your hands cup his face, pulling him into you. your lips impulsively kiss his, feeling his warm ones on your cold ones. but then, your face starts heating up in embarrassment when you’ve realized what you’ve done. you practically jump away from him, pressing yourself up against the passenger door behind you. 

“sorry, sorry! i was just—,” you stutter, trying to find an explanation, “i mean, we just got away! and i was so happy that—” 

before you could finish your ramble, sunghoon leans over the centre console and presses his lips back onto yours. this kiss is more certain and confident than yours. his eyes are closed as his lips work against yours, and yours soon follow once the shock has faded. 

sunghoon pulls away slightly, his forehead resting on yours as his dark eyes look into yours. you can tell that his breathing is heavier than usual, like his composure has finally dissipated. you can only stare back at him, your eyes shifting from his eyes to lips that you want to feel again so badly. 

“what… what’re you doing?” you ask him, not expecting his reaction. 

your breath hitches when you feel his hands move to your face, his thumb brushing over the top of your cheek. he’s so close to you, you can hardly think. he murmurs quietly, “you make me lose all control, y/n.” you can tell from his eyes that he’s being honest– and it scares him and you. “everytime i’m around you, or even look at you… i have to remind myself to focus.” 

his forehead is still resting on yours as he speaks. you’re sure he can hear how quick your poor heart is beating. “sunghoon,” you say his name but that’s all that comes out. 

he smirks at your lack of words, his thumb tracing along your jaw, “you’re way too good for me, sweetheart,” he lets his eyes close as he finishes the sentence, “but i need you so bad.” 

“are you… are you serious?” 

sunghoon chuckles softly, “of course i am,” his fingers brush back the strand of hair on your face, “i’ve wanted you since the first time i saw you— but, i shouldn’t be allowed to want you. i’m not good for you.” 

you see the way his eyes tense at his confession, his jaw tightening. “you can want me, sunghoon. i want you too, so much.” 

he lets out a slow breath, his hands sliding down your body and around your waist, “if we start this, y/n, id ont think i’ll be able to stop.” his voice is full of longing and precaution. 

“then don’t.” 

your lips meet again almost instantly— the final strand holding sunghoon back breaks. the kiss is much rougher than the last two, setting the pace for the rest of the time you have in the stolen car. 

“you’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” sunghoon’s deep voice asks, his hot skin warm against yours. you want to respond, but he’s quick to gather your lips in his again. he doesn’t hesitate to push his tongue inside your mouth. he starts exploring your mouth, and you let him. wanting to taste him just as much as he wants to taste you. 

sunghoon’s hand starts to slide down your neck, making you shiver. he tugs at the bottom of your shirt before he lifts it so it pools at your neck, making your breasts exposed. his fingers hurriedly brush against your newly bare skin. you’ve wanted this for such a long time, every movement of his leaves you squirming with anticipation. you’ve thought about this man every night since you’ve met him in that empty street all those weeks ago. “so fucking pretty,” he whispers, his breath hot as it fans against your neck. you can’t help but let out a soft moan of his name as he cups your breast in his large palm. 

“it feels that good already, sweetheart?” he teases you, his voice is hoarse when he speaks. the nickname makes you whine out. it’s been repeating in your mind since the first he’s called you it. you nod, unable to form words as pleasure surges through your body. his touch is firm and rough, and you need more of him. 

sunghoon leans over your body, gathering your mouth in a hungry kiss. the intensity between you is increasing rapidly. you’re quick to kiss him back this time. your hands aren’t shy anymore— you tangle them in his hair and pull him closer. everything about him is so addicting. 

sunghoon breaks away from the kiss to get air and starts leaving a trail of wet kisses down your jawline, nipping and sucking on it, “i want to taste every inch of you— mark you everywhere.” he murmurs, his hands now on the button of your jeans, unbuttoning it. you don’t stop him from sliding the denim down your hips until your bottom half is only in your panties.

“you’re so fucking wet,” he growls out, his fingers dipping into the damp fabric, stroking your slick folds. “i can’t wait to feel you around me.” his words have you keen, your body needing him more than you had thought. 

he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your sopping pussy. he starts to tease your entrance with his fingers, circling your clit. the smallest touch from him has you gasping and writhing against the stolen car’s seat already. “please,” you beg, your voice desperate.  

“not yet, sweetheart,” his whispers to you with a tsk, “i want to make you beg for it.” with that, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them to find your sweet spot. he starts to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb working your clit in circles at the same time. 

your head is thrown back against the window already. the feeling of his long, slim fingers inside of you have your knees shaking on either side of his body. you can’t stop the whimpers of his name falling from your lips. 

sunghoon starts to pound his two fingers in and out of your soaking core. the squelching sound of his fingers entering and exiting filled the stolen car. your cries increased and you started bucking your hips up and off the seat, trying to match his pace. 

he only chuckled darkly at your movements, “relax, relax.” he said, his pace slowing down as he leaned over you and pressed his lips to yours. your eyes close instantly, taking in the feeling of his lips on yours and his fingers rubbing your g spot. 

“i’m, i’m close.” you whimper out to him when he pulls back. your eyebrows furrow as his thumb starts to rub circles on your clit again. 

“hold it for a bit,” sunghoon asks, “i wanna take my time with you.” is lips start pressing kisses into your neck again, biting and sucking on the skin. he wants to leave as many marks as he can— wants you to remember him everytime you look in the mirror. his hand moving quickly in between your legs kept you in place, pressed against the passenger side door. the window cool on your warm, sweaty back. 

“i c-can’t!” you cry out, you feel your orgasm approaching so strong and quick. 

you see his eyes darken at your confession, it makes your heart pick up pace as you watch a smirk spread across his lips before he speaks, “are you not gonna be a good girl for me, y/n?” the words rush through you and straight to your core, you’re sure he can feel the way your pussy throbs around his fingers even more. “are you not gonna listen to me, sweetheart?” 

you try to answer him but his fingers are working viciously on your pussy; two fingers continuously pounding into you whilst his thumb rubs circles all over your clit, so messily. 

sunghoon doesn’t like your lack of response, and suddenly his hand is around your neck, choking you with your head pressed against the window behind you. his fingers on his other hand don’t leave your tight walls. “i think you should listen to me, y/n. because sluts don’t get to cum, do you understand?” 

“y-yes,” you try to nod, but his hands wrapped around your neck forbid you. 

a smile spreads on his lips again, “good girl.” 

sunghoon leans down and kisses your harshly. he’s all over your body, taking control of all of your senses. he’s fingers are massaging your mesh walls, his thumb is spreading your juices all over your clit. his hand is threatening the oxygen to your head and his lips are taking your breath away. he’s all that you can think about. 

“you don’t like following orders unless it gets you to cum, is that right?” his voice is deep in your ear when he pulls away from your lips again. his tongue is trailing under your jaw. 

“n-no!” 

his teeth bite down on your jaw at your answer, “oh c’mon, y/n. don’t act like you’re not a slut for me. look at you, your legs spread open for me, tits out,” he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth briefly, causing you to cry, “admit that you like being fucked like a whore.” 

sunghoon’s degrading only makes your core focus more on your orgasm, your brain becoming hazy as the pleasure continues to take over your body. 

“answer me,” 

all you could do was nod with a weak whimper leaving your mouth. your body felt like it was on overdrive as you tried to hold back your orgasm for him, so you could be his good girl. 

“say it, say that you’re my slut.” 

“i-i’m, your s-slut!” you practically yell out into the car. you could feel the sweat dripping down your forehead– the windows fogging up, just from your breath. 

“good girl,” sunghoon smiles darkly. his hand suddenly starts to pound so hard into your pussy. your body was jerking up against the seat with every thrust of his hand. “now, beg me to let you cum.” 

“p-please!” 

sunghoon only chuckles, “oh c’mon, i know you can do better than that, sweetheart.” 

you swallow harshly, “please, l-let me cum, i need it so bad, sir.” 

the name falls out of your mouth so willingly that it makes that evil, lust filled look in his eye turn even darker. “then cum, whore.” 

with his permission, the overwhelming wave of pleasure crashes over you. “oh god!” you cry out. your body starts convulsing as your orgasm tears through you. your head is thrown back against the cold, passenger window. his fingers are relentless, fucking into you until you have to pull his fingers out of you. 

you feel your tired pussy gaping around nothing as you keep your legs spread, your body still as you try to calm down from your high. in the moonlight, you can see sunghoon’s fingers glistening. 

you watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices off with a satisfied grin. “fuck you taste so good.” he moans around his own fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. 

once your juices are off his fingers, and before you can catch your breath, sunghoon is grabbing your waist and pulling you across the centre console and placing you right on his lap. you straddle him, feeling his hard length straining against his jeans. “i want you to ride me, sweetheart.” his voice commands, filled with authority. 

you reach down, your fingers shaking as they reach for his zipper. you so desperately want to feel his hard cock inside of you. sunghoon helps with the zipper, his neediness makes him impatient, too. 

in a second, his cock springs free from his jeans and you can see that the tip is already glistening with his precum. you can’t help but let out a quiet gasp at the sight. your pussy clenches around nothing but the thought of him stretching you open. 

sunghoon guides your hips, positioning his cock at your entrance. he goes slow, not wanting to overstimulate your pussy too much. your body slowly slides down, taking him deep inside of you. you both groan in unison as he fills you, stretching you perfectly. 

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he practically moans out, his head falling back onto the driver’s seat. you glance down at his exposed neck and you can’t help but reach down and press a deep kiss into the soft, smooth skin. his hand slinks through your hair, keeping you there, letting you leave your mark on him. “you’re so hot.”

when you’re done and you sit up again, your lips are swollen from leaving the now red mark on his neck. you’ve now adjusted to his size, feeling every vein and ridge of his thick shaft. 

“move, sweetheart.” he growls now, wanting you to set the pace for him. and you oblige. 

you lift your hips up and then sink back down, taking him in a slow, deliberate stroke. his cock glides in and out of you, rubbing against your sweet spots, sending pleasure coursing through your body. 

sunghoon leans forward, his mouth capturing one of your nipples, sucking and biting. “you feel so good– so much better than i even thought.” your pussy clamps down around his cock at the mention of him thinking about what your pussy would feel like. the image of his hand wrapped around his cock, late at night, moaning your name and fucking his cock into his hand, thinking about your pussy. “yeah? you like knowing that i think about your pussy? think about you?” 

you nod, your breaths quickening, “i think about you, too. i wanted to your cock inside of me for so long.” 

sunghoon smiles at your confession, and reaches up to gather your lips against his again. you quicken your pace, riding him harder, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. the car is filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, your moans and his deep whispers. 

“fuck, that’s it, take my cock, y/n. it’s all yours.” he encourages you, his hands squeezing your ass, guiding your movements. 

the pressure builds again, an intense pleasure coiling low in your belly. "i'm gonna cum," you pant, your body on the brink of another orgasm.

“fuck, okay,” sunghoon speaks breathlessly, “cum with me.” he grips your hips tightly, helping you by lifting you slightly and then slamming you back down onto his cock. he starts pounding into your from below, his cock thrusting deep, hitting all the right spots. 

you cling to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure becomes almost unbearable. "oh, fuck!" you cry out, your body trembling as the orgasm engulfs you. sunghoon grunts, his hips snapping up, driving his cock even deeper as he spills his hot cum inside you. 

you lean down to rest your head on his shoulder, your body weak. both of your chests are heaving against each other as you try to catch your breaths. sunghoon rubs his hands up and down your back, soothing your weak body. 

when you feel strong enough again you start to lift your hips up and sunghoon helps you. he sets you down on the passenger seat before he starts looking through the car for something to wipe the mess between your legs. he finds some tissues in the glove department and he smiles sheepishly at you before he starts gently wiping the sticky cum and juices off of your core. 

both of you fix your clothes and you’re left in silence, the windows slowly unfogging so you can see the city down below again. 

as you sit in the passenger seat, the silence feels thick, like neither of you knows what to say. you keep your hands tight together in your lap. 

“i should uh, get you home.” sunghoon finally speaks, and you notice how he can barely look at you. 

“uh sure, right.” 

when he starts to drive again, he just stares straight ahead, one hand gripping the steering wheel as he changes the channel on the radio, which is playing some retro love song you’ve never heard before. 

you shift in your seat, feeling anxiety creep up your spine. this wasn’t supposed to feel so intense. all you’d wanted was a little adventure, a bit of cash, and maybe some time to you look at the car thief who you found insanely attractive. 

you never thought sunghoon, with his impossible calm and that quiet confidence, would actually… want you back. but tonight, he let his cool, calm and collected demeanor drop— just for you. and now you’re left with wondering what it could mean. 

he pulls up to your apartment building not long after you start to see the city lights again. he taps his fingers against the steering wheel, glancing at the dashboard instead of you. “so…” he says, his voice softer than usual. “i guess i’ll see you around.” 

“yeah.” you nod, gripping the door handle, feeling like you’re supposed to say something but coming up blank. “thanks for the… ride.” the words feel so lame, but what else is there to say?

he gives you a tiny smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “sure. anytime.”

a pause stretches between you, long enough that it feels like maybe one of you should say something—anything—to break the weird tension. but instead, you just close the passenger door of the stolen car and give a small wave to him as you turn and walk toward your apartment. 

tonight, he drives away before you can even enter the apartment building.

you haven’t seen the car thief, sunghoon, in two whole weeks. 

you’ve replayed that last night with him multiple times in your head, you’re sure you haven’t forgotten a single detail. still, you think about all the “what ifs” of that night. all the things you should or would have done differently. you shake your head, cringing at yourself for the hundredth time. 

it’s late now, another night where you’re practically dragging yourself home from work. you’re wondering how your life can feel so hard and boring all at once. you tug your purse over your shoulder tightly and start your walk home, telling yourself to not get stuck on the thought of sunghoon again. 

and then, like your life is some huge joke, a car pulls up beside you. you don’t even have to look to know who’s inside. 

before you can finish telling yourself to not glance over at the car, you glance over. your heart stutters when sure enough, sunghoon is sitting in the driver's seat of the car. he has that annoying smirk on his face that you’ve gone back and forth of hating and loving. 

still, the hurt of being ignored by him for two weeks after you fucked is still fresh. you scoff, rolling your eyes as he slows down beside you.

“what’s with that? aren’t you happy to me?” he says, his lips forming into an exaggerated pout. 

you tell yourself to not look at him and to keep walking home, “no.” 

“no?” he mocks, pretending to be offended, “don’t tell me it’s ‘cause i didn’t call you! i didn’t have your number, y/n!”

“it’s not that,” you mutter, not sure if you’re even telling the truth yourself.

“oh, really?” he says, tilting his head. “then why don’t you get in the car?” you shrug him off and keep walking. “what, you’re suddenly scared of getting into a stolen car?” he teases, grinning. “this one’s my friend’s.”

you glance at the car, recognizing it instantly—yeah, it’s his friend’s. he used  it once to drive you home last month. you say nothing, eyes forward, and keep walking.

“c’mon, y/n,” his voice softens, the car matching your walking pace beside you. “don’t be like. i’m sorry! just get in, and we’ll talk.” 

“you didn’t have my number, but you knew where i lived.” you raise a brow, finally looking over at him, and he falls silent. he bites his lip, knowing that you’re right and he could’ve talked to you a lot sooner than two weeks later. 

still, he doesn’t give up. “please, y/n, just get in. we can talk.” you don’t answer, the thoughts in your head are so conflicting. mentally switching between how hurt you’ve been to how addicting his touch is. “i’ll buy you food.”

you pause, narrowing your eyes at him. at the mention of food, though, he knows he’s won. he stops the car, smiling in victory as he gestures to the passenger side. “get in.” 

with an exasperated sigh you walk over and slip into the seat, you hate how hungry you are right now.

you sit in the passenger seat as you finish your burger that sunghoon had bought you. 

when you’re both done, sunghoon leans back in his seat and glances over at you. his eyes are aching as they meet yours, “i’m sorry i didn’t come to see you sooner.” 

you just give him a skeptical “hm” in response, raising a brow as you wipe your hands on a napkin.

he sighs again. “i’ve just been… stressed. busy. work’s been a lot and i didn’t want to get you wrapped up in this mess. last time we were together, i felt like i did just that—dragged you right into the middle of all this car-theft stuff. you don’t deserve any of that, y/n. i just want you to be safe.”

 “i understand that, but i’m an adult. i can make my own decisions, you know? and so can you, by the way. you could’ve come to see me, especially after… well, after what we did last time.”

he looks away, guilt flickering across his face as he nods, biting his lip. “i know. i just… i like you, y/n. a lot. and i wish my life wasn’t such a complete shit show right now.”

“my life’s a mess, too. but i’d still make an effort to see you.”

sunghoon sighs, “i know, i know. i messed up, okay? i handled it all wrong, and i’m sorry. okay? i’m sorry.”

you don’t say anything right away, just look down at your drink, setting it carefully in the cup holder. “okay,” you finally say. there’s a mix of relief and caution settling in your chest. sunghoon is complicated, and so are your feelings for him.  “have you ever thought about, like… you know, just having a normal job? a normal life?”

sunghoon snorts, “yeah i tried that, but not many people want to hire a guy who doesn’t even have a high school diploma.” you nod in understanding, so he continues, “and why do you want to steal cars? and don’t say you don’t want to—i saw how excited you were when we drove off a few weeks ago.”

you bite your lip, debating how much to actually tell him. you don’t share much with, well anyone. his pleading eyes convince you to tell him some parts, “well i’ve been on my own since i was 16, so money’s always been tight. so i just needed some more money. i’m sick of working all day, every day, just to go home, sleep, and start all over. i wanted… something different. something exciting.”

sunghoon listens, but looks away, shaking his head with a small smile, “y/n, i get it,” he says, sighing. “but crime isn’t exactly the way, you know? it’s bad, it’s dangerous.”

you laugh, raising an eyebrow. “right. you’d know all about being bad, wouldn’t you?”

his smirk flickers, and he doesn’t deny it. instead, he just watches you quietly for a second, his expression unreadable, “okay but,” he mutters under his breath, “but it’s different now. ever since i’ve met you, you make me want to be good.” 

something in his voice makes your stomach flip. you’re both happy and scared at the same time. you’re trying not to grin, but his hand comes up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you can’t help it. it’s what you’ve wanted to hear from him. the look in his eyes is warm and knowing. 

before you can think twice, he leans in, close enough that you catch a hint of his cologne, and then he kisses you, his lips as soft as you remembered. and in that moment, you both know you’re already deeper than you meant to be. 

your lips barely part from sunghoon’s when the screech of tires slices through the air, and suddenly, the night feels way too quiet again. you both freeze, eyes snapping to the headlights of a dark car that pulls into the parking lot.

you barely have time to react as the car comes to a stop. three men step out, all of them wearing expressions that scare you as they start to approach you and sunghoon. they have nasty scowls on their faces and it makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest. 

sunghoon shifts, stepping out of the car without looking at you, without saying a word. he looks just as terrifying as the three men do. he’s tense and so are you. 

"you really thought you could mess with us and get away?" one of them sneers as they look at sunghoon like he’s already dead and it sends a chill through your body. 

“sunghoon, let’s just go! please!” you call out to him from inside the car. 

the guy who spoke first takes a step towards the car, putting his hand on the roof as he bends down to look at you through the window. his eyes are wild and a terrifying smirk spreads on his lips, “oh, you’ve got a pretty girl with you tonight, huh park?” 

sunghoon instantly shoves the guys shoulder to get him away from the car. and before you can blink, the other two men are pulling out guns, aiming them directly at sunghoon. 

“don’t talk to her.” sunghoon’s voice is stern and cold as he ignores the guns and stares right at the man who spoke to you. 

“relax, relax,” the man’s voice is calm, “we’re not here for her, we’re here for you. because you’re the one who messed with all our engines, right? all the engines to the cars that we can’t sell now.” 

you see sunghoon’s jaw clench, his hand flexing at his side. you’re unable to move, unable to think of anything except the fact that sunghoon’s standing there, unarmed, against three men with guns.

"you shouldn't have come here," sunghoon finally says, his voice low, "you're making this worse for yourselves."

the guy closest to him scoffs, taking a step closer. "worse for us? you’re the one who made this personal, park. we’re just here to settle it." the man nods to one of the men with a gun, “do it.” 

everything happens so fast after that. someone yells and then a loud gunshot fills the empty parking lot. you swear your heart stops for a moment when you see sunghoon stagger back. his hands fly to this abdomen where red blood is already spreading across his white shirt. 

“sunghoon!” you scream, your hands fumbling with the car door as panic overtakes you. 

before you can reach the group of men, sunghoon lunges at one of the men, knocking him back. the guy’s gun slips from his grip, making it skid across the pavement. it lands a few feet away from you. before you can process what you’re doing, your body is diving for the gun, gripping its handle tightly in your shaky hands. 

“y/n, stay back!” sunghoon yells at you, his voice strained from the pain of his wound. but, you barely register what he’s saying as you aim the gun at the man who’s holding a gun to sunghoon’s head.

your finger so easily pulls the trigger of the gun. the recoil of the shot makes your arms jolt back. the man who you aimed at stumbles back, his own gun dropping to the pavement as he falls to his knees. 

suddenly, the weapon in your hand is burning hot in your hand, making you drop it. the other two men freeze, their eyes full of confusion and fear as they scan the scene in front of them. they definitely hadn’t been expecting that, and neither were you or sunghoon. 

“let’s go!” sunghoon shouts, his voice hoarse. his one hand is pressed against his bleeding stomach, his face pale as he tries to mask the pain he’s in. he starts to limp the the driver’s side of the car. 

“sunghoon, no,” you snap, rushing to his side of the car, “you can’t drive.” 

“i’m fine.” he argues, but you can see how much the wound is hurting him. his face doesn’t look the same at all. he can’t even stand up by himself, he’s holding onto the car’s roof like he’s gonna fall any second. 

“get in the passenger side, sunghoon.” you voice is a lot more stern that you had intended. 

you can tell that he wants to argue and protest, but the serious look in your eye makes him give in, “okay.” he carefully limps to the other side of the car. he’s just closing the passenger door when your shaking hands grab the steering wheel. 

the other three men have scrambled into their own car in front of you, taking off down the street quickly. the pavement below you is a mess of blood. you ignore the sight and panic bubbling up in your chest as you slam your foot on the gas. your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat, but you force yourself to focus. 

“just hold on, okay?” you say, your voice trembling. “we’re gonna get you help.”

“no!” sunghoon tries to sit up, “we can’t go to the doctor, y/n! they’ll call the cops! please no!” 

your eyes widen further at the realization that you can’t call for help, that you had just shot a man who’s blood is all over the pavement back there. that sunghoon is a thief, that there’s no way he could get help without going to jail. 

“fine, fine. no hospital!” you turn the wheel sharply, the tires screeching as you turn down another street, changing the direction you were going in. 

“you’re a terrible driver,” he mutters, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk despite the pain.

“shut up, sunghoon,”

before you can think, you’re pulling up to your apartment building. your hands are still trembling as you park the car in the shadows behind the building, where no one will notice it right away. your heart pounds as you glance around, praying none of your neighbors are outside or peeking through their windows.

“come on, sunghoon,” you mutter, rushing around to the passenger side. he groans as you help him out, his weight leaning heavily on you. there’s blood everywhere—on your hands, his clothes, the car seat. you wonder what the fuck you’re gonna do. 

it’s a struggle to get him up the stairs without dropping him or making too much noise. you kept switching between praying for sunghoon to not die right here and for your neighbours to not leave their apartment. you unlock your door with blood that doesn’t belong to you on your hands. you practically drag him inside after you to your bathroom. 

“sit down,” 

sunghoon practically falls down on the closed toilet lid, his face pale with droplets of sweat trailing down his face and neck. his white shirt is soaked with blood and you can feel your stomach turn at the sight— the smell of iron strong when you pull the shirt off of his head. 

you force yourself to not stare at the open, bloody wound and to move. you pull open the cabinet where you keep your first aid kit. 

“i can do it,” sunghoon mumbles, trying to sit up straighter. his voice is weak, but his stubbornness is as strong as ever. 

“no, you can’t,” you snap for the second time tonight. you kneel on the bathroom floor in front of him, pulling out all the supplies you might need. “just let me take care of you, okay?”

he blinks at you, surprised, but doesn’t argue. you grab a towel, folding it up before holding it out to him. “bite down on this,” you say softly. “this is gonna hurt.”

he hesitates for a moment before taking it, pressing it between his teeth. you grab a pair of tweezers from the kit, your hands shaking as you sterilize them with some rubbing alcohol.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, before pressing your hand firmly against his wound. he tenses, a muffled groan escaping him as you work. you don’t think the bullet is lodged too deep, but you’ve never done this before. every time you move, he jerks slightly, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the sink beside him. 

“hold on,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. 

with one more try, you manage to pull the bullet out with the tweezers. a trickle of his blood starts to trail down his side. you drop the bullet into the sink and grab some gauze to press against his wound. 

“i’m so sorry,” you say again, tears filling your eyes as you try to clean the area. you’re just hoping you did everything correctly so that he doesn’t die in your apartment. you just work as quickly as you can, bandaging him up and cleaning it so it doesn’t get infected. “done.” 

sunghoon pulls the towel out of his mouth, his head falling back to the wall behind his head. “you’d be the worst nurse ever,” sunghoon jokes weakly, his voice so evidently tired. 

you roll your eyes, standing up and grabbing a clean shirt from your bedroom. “don’t make jokes right now,” you mutter, helping him put the clean shirt over his head, wondering when your hands will stop shaking. 

he winces at the movement, but he doesn’t complain. he doesn’t want to make you worry more about him. “thank you.” he tells you, and it catches you off guard. 

“yeah, yeah,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heat up. you help the thief to his feet, guiding him to the couch in your small living room. he sinks into the cushion, exhaustion taking over his body as it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep after you give him a pillow and blanket.

sunghoon stays at your apartment for the next few days, being forced to be taken care of by you. 

you make sure he eats and that  his wound is cleaned. everytime you see it you tell him it looks better, even though you’re never really sure. you suppose you say it looks better for your own reassurance and sunghoon’s caught onto that, but he doesn’t say anything. 

when you’re at work you find it hard to concentrate on anything but the fact that a wounded sunghoon is at home on your couch. on every break, your phone is quick to your ear, calling him, making sure he’s still alive. when he picks up everytime, he sounds the same— tired, but  playful. 

“i’m fine, y/n.” he says every time, you can always hear his smirk through the phone, “you’re going to make yourself crazy with all this worrying.” 

but you keep calling, and he keeps answering, and you can’t stop yourself from falling in love with his laugh every time. 

you have tonight off from work for the first time since sunghoon got hurt. you’re sitting on the couch beside him, his head rests in your lap with his messy dark hair sprawled out against your bare thighs. the light from the tv is the only light in the room. the movie is some action one that you randomly picked, too tired to scan through anymore of them trying to find a good one. so, neither of you are really watching the movie. your hand absentmindedly runs through his hair. 

you can feel his hand start to wander across the bare skin of your thighs. it’s subtle at first, just the tip of his finger tips grazing the surface. but they get closer to your core that your shorts are covering. your eyes narrow as you look down at him, “sunghoon, you’re hurt, stop.” 

he tilts his head up to look at you, his lips quirked, “but you’ve been taking such good care of me. let me take care of you now.”

you grab his hand to stop it from going underneath your shorts, “sunghoon, you’re hurt,” your voice is firm, “just rest.” 

he sighs, his head falling back into your lap. “i can’t rest forever, you know,” he mutters. “i have to go back to work at some point.”

the mention of his “work” makes your body stiffen underneath him. the night that he got hurt has been flashing through your mind constantly. the large amounts of blood, sunghoon’s groans of pain— the way the gun felt in your hand as you pulled the trigger. you can’t stop the way your eyebrows furrow in worry. 

of course he notices, “y/n, you know i have to go back. it’s my career. it’s how i get my money.” his voice is soft and gentle as he explains himself. 

“hoon, you can get a real job. i can help you find one.” 

he instantly shakes his head in disagreement. before you can protest more, which he knows you will do, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your thigh, then another just above it. your breath hitches as he starts to press soft kisses against your stomach. 

“sunghoon,” you warn him, grabbing his face with your hand. he stops, his dark eyes meeting yours as he lets his face rest against your hand. “i please, i can’t stand seeing you in pain. it’s too soon.” 

a soft smile covers his lips, it doesn’t completely match his eyes that are swirling with lust. but he turns his head and presses a kiss into your palm. “you take such good care of, y/n. i’ll be okay.” 

his stubbornness makes you groan, “sunghoon, please.” you beg him again, thoughts of his wound stretching open cross your mind. 

but, he doesn’t stop. he only starts to press more kisses against your wrist and arm. his smile grows against your skin with every kiss. 

“let me take care of you now, y/n.” 

you sigh, the fight in you dissipating and the smile on his face has reached full peak. he knows he has won, that you can’t resist him any longer. 

“spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” his voice deepens, “let me see your pretty pussy.” 

you obey his command once again, leaning back against the arm of the couch and opening your legs for him. you let him push your shorts aside, letting the cool air brush against your wet folds. his eyes darken even more, his gaze completely focused on your core in front of him. 

“that’s it, my good girl.” his words come out rough and steady, “i wanna taste you so bad.” 

his free hand holds your one thigh, caressing it and keeping it open for his broad shoulders to fit between your legs. his touch is gentle at first. his fingers ever so lightly start to rub your pussy up and down, spreading your juices around, preparing you for his mouth. it had you whining out for him already. 

“fuck, you get so wet so easily for me. wanna make you cum with my tongue, baby.” 

he barely finishes his sentence before he’s leaning forward, his tongue darting out and tracing the outline of your lips. he’s teasing you, making you squirm and beg for him again. his breath and mouth are so warm against your sensitive skin. 

“oh god, sunghoon.” you moan, your hand reaching down between your legs to grab his hair, “that feels good.” 

sunghoon loves how sensitive you are. how easy you are to get moaning. “you taste so fucking good, ‘m getting get addicted to this pussy.” the vibrations of his words make your legs tighten around his shoulders. 

his tongue flicks your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. your hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. sunghoon chuckles, loving the power he has over you. 

“tell me how it feels, y/n– how my tongue feels against your pussy.” 

you look down at him where his face is pressed deep into your core, his eyes telling you what he wants. his tongue is still darting out to lick every inch of your pussy. “it feels so good, i love your tongue so much. please, don’t stop.” 

“you don’t want me to stop?” his voice is teasing as he slow down the movement of his tongue on your clit. 

“no! no! please don’t!” 

sunghoon laughs at your begging, but he doesn’t stop his tongue from moving. he constantly alternates from flattening his tongue against your pussy to contracting it circling it quickly around your clit. 

“who does this pussy belong to, sweetheart?” 

your head is thrown back over the couch in pleasure, “you.” 

suddenly a harsh slap lands on your clit, sending you squealing as you sit up and look down at him, his hands still holding your thighs open. “louder, who does this pussy belong to?” 

“you!” you nod down at him, your thighs shaking from the pleasure and pain. 

“good girl– because you are my good girl, right?” 

“y-yes!” 

you see him smirk against your core again, “then cum for me, baby. cum all over my mouth.” then, he’s shoving his fingers inside your pussy, heading straight for your g spot as he starts sucking your clit into his mouth, his tongue circling it again and again– so desperate to get you to cum. 

“oh god! oh god, sunghoon!” you writhe on the couch. if it wasn’t from his hands holding your thighs open then you would’ve fallen off the couch. “i’m gonna cum!” 

his fingers are pounding into you mercilessly, “that's it, baby, let it all out. cum for me, y/n." his voice was a low growl, urging you on.

your orgasm hits you hard. all the worry and frustration you had built over sunghoon’s health all left your body as the pleasure came crashing over your body. your hips can’t stay still as they buck up against his face. you cry out, your voice filling up your entire apartment as the pleasure overtakes you. sunghoon holds you throughout the entire climax, his mouth and fingers never stopping— wanting it to last as long as possible for you. 

as your body starts to relax, you collapse back onto the couch, your breath coming in ragged gasps. sunghoon slowly pulls away from you. his lips are glistening with your juices, a satisfied smirk is on his face as he looks up at you. 

“fuck that was good,” you tell him, a smile spreading across your face in amusement. 

“i told you i could make you feel good,” sunghoon wiggles his eyebrows in response. you roll your eyes, sitting up on the couch and pushing him to sit up. he does so, slowly. his back against the couch and his feet on the floor now. “c’mere,” he pats to his thighs. 

“sunghoon, it’s too much. i don’t want you to get hurt.” 

he doesn’t attempt to argue this time, only grabs your wrist and throws you on top of his lap. both of your knees are either side of his hips.

“if you want to take care of me then make me feel good, y/n.” he says to you, his eyes still full of lust as they look up at you on top of him. 

you can’t ignore the throb of your pussy at his words, so you give in to him again. your hands grab the hem of your shirt and slip it off your body. you move so you can take off your soaked panties and shorts, leaving you completely bare on top of the car thief. his bottom lip is tucked tightly between his teeth as he takes in the sight of you. it’s the first time he’s seen you completely bare. and it’s just for him. 

“you’re so beautiful,” he says as he reaches out his hand. you think he’s going to cup your breast or touch your body, but his hand settles on your lower jaw. his eyes looking directly into yours. “let me kiss you.” 

you lean down, making your lips meet with his. the kiss is gentle and soft. it makes your heart skip a beat as he prolongs it. he doesn’t want to let you go. but he does when you pull away for air. 

“i want you inside me, hoon.” 

sunghoon smirks at your confession, his hands pulling off the hem of his shorts so his cock can spring free for you. it looks so hard and thick— the memory of it stretching you open in the stolen car fills your mind. you can’t wait to feel it again. 

sunghoon grips your hips, giving you something to steady yourself on as you position yourself over his cock. you slide down onto his length with ease from your juices and his saliva covering your pussy. you take him in deeper and deeper until, stopping when he’s all the way inside of you. 

a moan escapes your mouth, your head falling forward to rest on his shoulder as you adjust to large size. sunghoon’s hands rub up and down your bare back, soothing you from the stretch. 

“we’ll just go slow this time, okay?” sunghoon’s husky tone speaks in your ear— reminding you of his wound. 

you nod as you sit up straight again. you keep your hands on his broad shoulders as you start to lift your hips off his cock slowly, then push them back down. the first thrust already has you reeling. you continue with the slow pace of your hips, bouncing up and down on top of his thighs. you start to alternate with small, slow circles of your hips. you move them left to right and right to left. it makes sunghoon groan out into the living room. 

“fuck that feels so good, you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

“shh, don’t say that when you have a gunshot wound.” you reply, covering his mouth with your hand. you can feel him smirk against your hand, but he doesn’t remove it. 

you keep your hand on his mouth, making him keep quiet, preventing some of his oxygen. you focus on sliding up and down on his cock, making it hit your g spot everytime it enters your pussy. your eyes keep fluttering shut at the feeling of it. 

sunghoon’s eyes are burning into you, watching every single movement you make on top of him. he loves watching you bring yourself to the edge with his cock— using him. 

“fuck i love your cock.” you moan out, starting to feel the coil unwinding in your abdomen as the pleasure builds and builds. 

sunghoon then takes your hand off his mouth with his hands, you want to complain, to mock him for being disobedient like he did to you, but he speaks too quickly, “i love you.” 

his confession doesn’t startle you as much as it does make the pleasure inside of you turn to fire. it only fuels your need to make him feel good— to cum all over his cock. 

“i love you,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him harshly. he keeps up with your messy pace, kissing you back the same way. your hips don’t stop bouncing on top of him as you make out. 

sunghoon’s hands wrap around your body, pulling you closer to him so your chests are touching. your own arms wrap around his neck. your chest is in his face as you focus on fucking him harder and harder. you can feel his lips start to migrate from your jaw to your neck to your nipples. he sucks each one in his mouth, biting them and swirling them with his tongue. 

“fuck, that’s it, sweetheart.” he words come out in a groan. “keep bouncing like that— you’re gonna make me cum.” 

a sob escapes your lips as the pleasure inside of you is about to spill at any second now. “i love you.” you repeat as you keep your head close to his. 

“i love you.” 

your nails start to dig into his back when you feel his one hand snake down between your bodies, starting to rub at your sensitive clit. you cry out, not wanting him to stop. sunghoon can feel the way your walls are rapidly clenching around his cock. he can tell how close you are to cumming. 

“are you going to cum for me, y/n?” he asks you, his voice hoarse and strained as he feels his own orgasm approaching. 

“yes, yes!” 

“cum then, baby. cum around my cock for me.” 

his words send you over the edge. your whole body tenses up as the pleasure overtakes you. it makes your toes curl and fingers dig deeper into his shoulders. you keep your face buried into his neck, letting him hear all your moans of his name. 

the second your wet walls started to spasm feverishly around his cock, sunghoon can’t hold back his own orgasm anymore. he lets out a loud grunt of your name as his cum shot out of his cock, filling your pussy up with it instead. you can only bounce a few more times on his cock before your knees completely give out with the rest of your tired body. 

you keep each other pulled close. your arms wrapped around one another as you both steady your breaths. there’s sweat all over you and your pussy is constantly throbbing around him. your mind is hazy as you try to comprehend what had just happened. 

sunghoon is the first to pull away, sitting back against the couch as he looks up at you. he laughs quietly at your tired face, your eyelids practically closed. even though he’s injured, he still gently lifts you off his cock and sets you beside him on the couch. your hair is a mess as it sprawls against the couch arm behind your head. 

sunghoon reaches to the coffee table to get tissues to clean up the mess between your legs. he presses soft kisses into your thighs as he cleans you. he makes sure to get every remnant of his cum off your pussy. he ignores the fact that the sight makes his cock twitch in his shorts again. 

sunghoon slips off his shirt and puts it on your body, covering you up. you hum at the smell of his cologne surrounding you. you can hardly believe how mentally and physically exhausted you are. the stress from the past week of taking care of him and the three men trying to hurt him really took a toll on you. 

sunghoon shifts you so he can lay behind you on the couch. he rests his head on yours as he kisses the side of your cheek. he stays there, close to you when he says, “i love you.” 

now, as you can think more clearly, you sigh, “i love you, too sunghoon but,” you turn over your to face him, eye to eye, “i can’t keep loving you if you keep risking your life for these cars. i can't constantly think if you’re dead or alive. it’s too stressful for me.” 

sunghoon looks at you, taking in all your features that he’s come to memorize. the features that he’s fallen in love with since the first time he’s seen you on the empty street behind the club. he’s seen you this past week almost pulling your hair out from worrying so much about him. you couldn’t even go to the bathroom without worrying that if you’d come back he’d be dead.

he saw the way you risked your own life for him during the gith with the three men. the way you dove for the gun just to protect him. he’s done what he never wanted to. he’s put you in danger. 

“if it’s between stealing cars and you,” he starts, his voice soft like a whisper, “then it’s you. it’s always you.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, “really?” 

“yeah, i’m done with the car stealing shit, then.” 

you grab his face and bring it to yours, meshing your lips together. both of you smile into the kiss— happy to start fresh with one another. 

“i love you.” you tell him again, pulling back to press kisses all over his face out of pure happiness. 

sunghoon laughs as you kiss him, “i love you, too.” he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you against his large frame, “but you should sleep now, i find out what your mouth feels like around my cock later.” he fake winces in pain when you shove him his shoulder— making you laugh before you settle against his body again. 

both of your eyes close as you drift off to sleep together on the couch. 

now that sunghoon has hit the brakes and left the fast lane for you, there’s no more danger or crime— just the two of you. and that’s all you could ever ask for.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

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[willowsnook]

Concerned (LN) pt. 2

lando norris x neighbor!reader

pt. 1 here

-----------------------------------

“Hey superstar,” you call out to Lando as you see him heading in to your building.

“What’s up?” He asks with a smile, and you fall into step with him towards the elevator.

“Not a lot,” you said. “Just getting ready to get out of this country tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, where are you going?”

“Vegas.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you going to the Grand Prix?”

You nodded with an easy smile, “Yeah, heading out a little early to hang with some college friends, but then I’ll be there Saturday.”

“Vegas is far; I’m surprised you’re going,” he commented and you gave him a weird look.

“You know I’m from the US muppet,” you said, and he gave you an amused look.

“Did you just call me a muppet?” He teased. “That’s my word.”

“Yeah, I’ve been really getting into watching Twitch streams, guess I’m picking up on your lingo,” you said nonchalantly but with a mischievous look. Lando froze as you mentioned it, thinking back to the recent stream where he talked about you.

“Oh?” He laughed nervously and your smirk grew wider.

“Yeah, thanks for the shoutout by the way,” you said,his face instantly flushed. “I’ll see you in Vegas, babe.”

You left him in the elevator and walked back to your apartment, giggling. Torturing him was amusing and you didn’t feel that bad about it since you shared some of the thoughts he had about you.

———————————————————-

A week in Vegas was exactly what you needed, especially because of how much you missed your friends. After three days of clubbing, you were exhausted and running on fumes and RedBull to make it to the race. Only one of your friends could join you Saturday night, and you made it to the entrance a few hours before the race. A man scanned your tickets and turned to the sign, grabbing two special passes and handing them to you.

“What are these?” You asked and he gave you a weird look.

“VIP passes?” He asked and sighed as you still looked confused. “It looks like your tickets were upgraded, so you’ll have access to the paddock and paddock club.”

Your mind instantly thought about Lando and you smiled to yourself before pulling your friend along.

As you and your friend made your way through the bustling paddock, the excitement in the air was palpable. The roar of engines, the smell of fuel, and the buzz of anticipation filled your senses. You couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement, wondering if you'd run into Lando.

"This is insane," your friend whispered, wide-eyed as you passed by team garages and caught glimpses of drivers preparing for the race.

You nodded in agreement, still processing how you'd ended up with these VIP passes. As you rounded a corner, you nearly collided with a somewhat familiar face.

“Sorry!” The driver exclaimed, reaching out to steady you. He looked so familiar, but you couldn’t remember exactly who he was. “You are Lando’s friend.”

“Yeah, you’re his teammate, right?” You asked and he nodded, sticking out a hand.

“Oscar.”

“Y/n,” you replied smiling. “I’m surprised you recognized me since we’ve never met.”

“Let’s just say I’ve heard a lot about you,” Oscar said with a slight smirk and you laughed. Lando came into your line of sight, and you saw him look panicked as he watched Oscar talk to you.

"Oh, I bet you have," you said with a grin, glancing over at Lando, who was now making his way towards you with a mix of nervousness and excitement on his face.

"Hey, you made it!" Lando called out, trying to sound casual as he approached. "I see you've met Oscar."

"Yeah, we were just getting acquainted," you replied, enjoying the slight flush on Lando's cheeks. "Thanks for the upgrade, by the way. The paddock access is amazing."

Lando's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, uh, no problem. Glad you're enjoying it."

Oscar looked between the two of you with amusement. "Well, I should get going. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Enjoy the race!"

As Oscar walked away, you turned to Lando with a raised eyebrow. “Crazy how he knew who I was.”

“Crazy,” Lando mumbled and you laughed, grabbing his hand to pull him to meet your friend Maggie.

“Maggie is a big Ferrari fan,” you told him and he waved over to Carlos, who was walking by. Carlos came over, looking down at Lando’s hand still in yours and smirking at his friend. Lando introduced all of you, and Maggie started to talk Carlos’s ear off, much to your amusement.

You turned back to Lando, talking softly, “Ready for today?”

“I think so,” he said. “I don’t really think there’s a shot at the championship anymore based on how the car was last night.”

“I’m sorry Lan,” you said and he gave you a small smile. “It’s still pretty impressive though, everything you’ve done this season and coming in second.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply. “Also I’m happy you’re talking to me and not your favorite driver.”

"I think my rankings might have changed." A slow smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He pulled you into his embrace, his strong arms enveloping you in a warm and comforting hug. You took in the familiar scent of his cologne and rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

“I have to go, but will I see you after the race?” He asked hopefully.

“You have my number,” you replied, and without thinking, you lifted your heels and pressed a short kiss on his cheek. “Good luck superstar.”

You watched the race from the hospitality suite, cheering with Maggie for the Ferrari drivers while being a little sad that Lando seemed to be having an okay race. Maggie left right after the race, having to drive back home that night, and you waited around the paddock while taking in the scene.

LN: still here?

Y/N: yeah, just wandering around.

LN: wander around to the McLaren garage?

Y/N: omw

Lando was out of his race suit and just in a pair of sweats and his team jacket. He looked tired but oddly enough, a little relieved. You hugged him when you saw him, congratulating him on a good race.

“You seem relieved,” you commented and he smiled down at you.

“I am a little, most of the pressure is off now,” he admitted.

“I’m happy for you then,” you declared.

“When are you heading back to Monaco?” He asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon, I’m definitely regretting not getting an earlier flight though. I just want to be back in my bed.”

“Why don’t you just come with me? I’m going to fly out in a couple of hours,” he offered.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother,” you said and he shook his head.

“It’s decided then,” he said and you smiled. You worked out the details and told him you’d meet him outside your hotel shortly. After heading back you packed up your suitcase and headed downstairs, waiting outside for Lando.

He pulled up in a big SUV and the driver got out to help you put your stuff in the trunk before you joined Lando in the back. You had both changed in to sweats and comfy wear, ready to sleep on the plane.

You had never been on a private jet before and were amazed, walking on the tarmac towards the plane. Lando looked over at you and smiled to himself, admiring how you still managed to look good in the night lights, even though he knew you were exhausted. Following him up the stairs, he motioned for you to sit next to him in a reclining seat connected to his. He handed you a blanket and you wrapped yourself up, eager to take off.

“Have fun today?” He asked from next to you and you nodded.

“Tons, it was fun to see you in your element,” you said and he smiled.

The plane took off and you watched out the window briefly before deciding you needed to sleep. While his plane was nice, you had trouble getting comfortable, shifting around trying to find a good spot.

“Can’t sleep?” Lando asked, noticing your restlessness.

“Not really,” you replied, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

He lifted up his blanket, gesturing for you to scoot closer. You hesitated momentarily, but the promise of comfort and warmth was too tempting to resist. Slowly, you shifted closer to Lando, settling into the crook of his arm as he draped the blanket over both of you.

"Better?" he murmured, his breath warm against your hair.

"Much," you sighed contentedly, feeling your muscles relax as you nestled against him.

The gentle hum of the plane's engines and Lando's steady heartbeat soon lulled you into a peaceful sleep. You weren't sure how long you'd been out when you felt a gentle shake on your shoulder.

"Y/N," Lando's voice was soft. "We're about to land."

You blinked groggily, realizing you were still cuddled up to him. "Oh, sorry," you mumbled, starting to move away.

"Don’t worry about it, I’m glad you could sleep,” he said and your heart fluttered.

It was a bright morning in Monaco and knowing you needed to beat jet lag you suggested grabbing something to eat, which Lando happily agreed to. Sitting across from him you found yourself oddly nervous about the shift you felt between you.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Lando asked and you looked up from the menu.

“Nothing, why?”

“Will you come to Qatar?”

“You want me to come to the race?”

Lando shifted nervously in his seat before meeting your eyes again.

“I’m calmer when you’re around,” he confessed and a small smile graced your face.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at Lando's words. "I'd love to come," you said softly. "But are you sure? I don't want to be a distraction."

Lando reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "You're not a distraction. You're... you're my good luck charm," he said with a shy smile.

You laughed lightly, squeezing his hand. "Alright then, I guess I'm going to Qatar."

Finishing up breakfast, you finally made it back to your apartment, Lando lingering by the door as if he was deciding on what to say.

“I really like you,” he blurted out.

You felt your heart skip a beat at Lando's sudden confession. You stood there in stunned silence for a moment, taking in his earnest expression and the vulnerability in his eyes.

"I was wondering when you were going to say it," you finally replied, a smile spreading across your face. "I really like you too, Lando,"

Relief washed over his features, quickly replaced by a boyish grin. He took a step closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

Instead of answering, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was tender and sweet, with the promise of something more. When you finally pulled apart, you both wore matching smiles.

"I should probably go," Lando said reluctantly, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "But maybe we could hang out more before this weekend?”

“I suppose so,” you said with a grin and he smirked, leaning in to give you one last kiss before he left.

tags: @sltwins @honeyhyunn @heli991113 @sarx164 @kissatelier @dying-inside-but-its-classy @daniellef89x

[rafecameronssl4t]

Bad at love || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sleeping with your enemy’s boyfriend was reckless, but what’s worse is the undeniable pull between you both afterward—a dangerous attraction that refuses to be ignored.

Warnings: cheating, suggestive content

Word count: 3,373

A/n: I actually didn't have much of plot line when I started this but I just kept on writing and writing... ALSO doesn’t this ong give major frat boy!rafe vibes?

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“And you missed Saturday’s practice, which was so important!” Katie’s sharp voice cuts through the chatter of the crowded party as she steps in front of you, arms crossed tightly. Her blue eyes burn with frustration, but you’re barely paying her any attention, your focus shifting to the drink table behind her. With a sigh, you roll your eyes and turn away, brushing her off without a word.

Her tone grows more demanding, her voice rising above the background noise. “You can’t keep missing practices like this! If you keep it up, I’ll have no choice but to kick you off the team.” The irritation in her voice is palpable, her stance stiff with authority she doesn’t seem to realise she’s lost. At her words, you can’t help the mocking scoff that escapes your lips.

Slowly, you turn back to face her, tilting your head as you look down at the shorter blonde. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, Katie?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re not captain anymore, remember?” Her face flushes red, her anger mounting, but you don’t give her a chance to reply. Shouldering past her, you mutter, “Move,” as though she’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience in your path.

“I’m not done talking to you!” she yells after you, her voice carrying above the noise. “Well, I am,” you call back coolly without looking over your shoulder, throwing a dismissive wave in her direction. “Have fun, Katie!” The smirk on your face grows as you reach the kitchen, leaving her fuming in the middle of the room. You shake your head, exhaling as you grab a fresh drink, relieved to be away from her relentless nagging.

~

You lean against the counter in the kitchen, taking a sip of the drink you just poured, the alcohol beginning to blur the edges of your irritation. Katie’s voice still rings in your ears, but the buzz in your system makes it easier to push aside. She always did have a way of making everything about her, and you weren’t in the mood to entertain it tonight. Spinning around to head back to the party, you stumble slightly, your drink sloshing in the cup as you collide with a broad chest.

“Woah, easy there,” a smooth, amused voice says as a strong hand steadies your arm. Looking up, your hazy gaze meets Rafe Cameron’s sharp blue eyes, the smirk on his face almost as cocky as his usual demeanor. The dim lighting catches on his perfectly styled hair and the faint gold chain resting against his collarbone. He was the frat president, and Katie’s boyfriend, of course. Not that you’d ever paid much attention to him—until now.

“Rafe,” you mumble, your voice slurring just slightly as you step back, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Didn’t see you there.” “Clearly,” he teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a beat too long before he lets go. “You alright? You’re looking a little… tipsy.” His smirk widens, eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips under his gaze.

“I’m fine. Just needed a drink to deal with your girlfriend.” His brow raises at that, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Katie giving you hell again?” He says, his mouth curling into that boyish grin “You could say that,” you mutter, taking another sip of your drink. “She’s always got something to say. Like I’m supposed to care about her opinion.” Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm, and it sends a strange thrill down your spine.

“Yeah, well, Katie’s got a… particular way of handling things. I usually just let her win the argument—it’s easier that way.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Sounds exhausting.” “It is,” he admits with a shrug, leaning casually against the counter beside you. “But she’s Katie. You know how she is.” His voice carries a mix of exasperation and fondness, but there’s something else there too—something you can’t quite place.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” you say dryly, though your eyes linger on him longer than they should. The alcohol is making you bolder, loosening your inhibitions as you study his sharp jawline, the way his lips quirk into an easy smirk. “What about you?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head. “What’s your excuse for being here, drinking like it’s your job tonight?” You shrug, leaning against the counter beside him.

“Needed a break. From life. From her.” You glance up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small smirk. “Guess you’d understand that better than anyone.” His laugh is softer this time, almost genuine, and he shifts a little closer. “Maybe I do.” The conversation lingers, the tension between you growing with each passing second. The party outside feels like a distant hum, your attention locked solely on him.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else entirely, but when his hand brushes against yours, neither of you pulls away. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in closer, and so is he. His lips hover near yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. “This… probably isn’t a good idea,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks conviction. “Probably not,” you whisper back, but neither of you moves to stop it.

The kiss is electric, a mix of pent-up frustration and reckless abandon. It’s messy and heated, your hands finding their way to his hair as his grip tightens on your waist. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to stumble out of the kitchen, his arm around your waist as he leads you upstairs, away from prying eyes. By the time you reach the bedroom, logic is a distant memory, lost in the haze of alcohol and the magnetic pull between you.

~

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely steady as you lie back against the pillow, your chest still heaving. Turning your head, you catch him already staring at you, his blue eyes darker than usual, shadowed with an emotion you can’t quite read. Your stomach twists, and the weight of what just happened starts to settle in. “I think we’re fucked.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, cutting through the stillness of the room. You groan, sitting up and burying your face in your hands for a moment before glancing around for your clothes. The reality of what you’ve done is pounding at the edges of your hazy mind. Rafe exhales sharply beside you, dragging a hand through his tousled hair as he leans back against the headboard.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low, almost resigned. “No shit.” The awkward shuffle of finding your clothes fills the silence. You spot your skirt crumpled on the floor and grab it, the fabric catching slightly as you pull it up your legs. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips as you fumble with the zipper, your hands trembling. “If Katie finds out about this…” you start, the words catching in your throat.

Rafe rubs his forehead, his expression darkening. “I know,” he groans, his tone sharp with frustration—at himself, at you, at the entire situation. Throwing the sheets off his lap, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans. “I know, alright?” You glance at him as he dresses, his movements brisk and tense, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle twitch.

The easy confidence he usually wears like a second skin is gone, replaced with something rawer. “This was so stupid,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, tugging your top over your head and smoothing it down. You take a shaky breath, pressing your lips together as the full weight of your actions hits you. “What the hell were we thinking?”

Rafe scoffs softly, shaking his head as he zips his jeans. “We weren’t thinking,” he says flatly, his voice edged with self-loathing. “That’s the fucking problem.” For a moment, you just stand there, staring at him. The silence between you is suffocating, heavy with unspoken words and the growing weight of regret. The distant hum of the party downstairs feels surreal, like it belongs to another world entirely.

“I can’t believe I let this happen,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You’re not the only one,” he says quietly, his tone softer now, though there’s still a sharp edge to it. “I didn’t exactly stop it either.” His words don’t feel like comfort, but there’s an honesty to them that makes your chest tighten.

You press your fingers against your temples, trying to piece together a rational thought, but the alcohol still buzzing in your veins makes everything feel blurry and far away. “This can’t happen again,” you say firmly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavers slightly, but you push through, needing to set some kind of boundary before this spirals further. “You know that, right?”

Rafe doesn’t respond right away. He leans against the wall, dragging his hand down his face before meeting your gaze. His jaw works like he wants to argue, but finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he says simply, but the hesitation in his voice makes your stomach twist. His eyes linger on you, trailing over your face like he’s memorising it, and it makes you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you move toward the door. Your fingers curl around the handle, but you pause, glancing back at him. “We need to be careful,” you murmur, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “If she even suspects…”

“I’ll handle it,” he cuts you off, his tone firmer this time. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—determination, maybe—but it doesn’t do much to ease the knot in your chest. With a small nod, you turn and slip out into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you descend the stairs.

The music and laughter feel like a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside you, and you can’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a drunken mistake. But as much as you tell yourself it’s over, the way your heart skips at the thought of him suggests otherwise.

~

“Want a lift?” The voice, low and unmistakably smug, pulls your attention away from your phone. You lift your head and squint into the afternoon sun to find Rafe sitting in his truck, leaning casually out of the window. His forearm rests on the edge of the door, his fingers tapping lazily against the metal. The faint smirk on his lips is one you’ve come to know all too well.

You blink, momentarily stunned, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me?” Rafe tilts his head, as if you hadn’t heard him correctly the first time. “I said, do you want a lift?” His tone is smooth, confident, like he’s entirely in control of the situation—and it’s already starting to get under your skin. You glance around quickly, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes dart over the school parking lot.

Your stomach churns as you spot the doors to the main building, half expecting Katie and her entourage to walk out at any moment. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you hiss, your voice low and sharp. Rafe doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by your reaction. If anything, the smirk on his face deepens. “What’s the problem? Need me to repeat myself again?”

Before you can fire back, the sound of doors opening grabs your attention. The distinct, high-pitched laughter of Katie and her friends echoes across the lot, sending a jolt of panic through you. Your stomach twists as your eyes lock onto them, walking out in a tight-knit group, their voices carrying. Katie, of course, is leading the pack, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.

Your pulse quickens. Without thinking twice, you yank open the truck door and climb in, muttering, “Fucks sake,” as you scramble into the passenger seat. The door slams shut, and Rafe chuckles, the sound low and teasing as he shifts the truck into gear. “Well, that was easier than I thought,” he murmurs, the truck lurching forward as he hits the gas.

You glance over your shoulder, watching as Katie and her friends grow smaller in the distance. Relief washes over you, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of embarrassment—and anger—as you snap your head back toward him. “What the hell, Rafe?” you spit, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Do you enjoy messing with people, or is it just some kind of hobby for you?”

Rafe glances at you, his smirk firmly in place. “I didn’t force you to get in,” he points out, his tone maddeningly casual. “You’re the one who panicked and dove into my truck like you were running from the cops.” You scoff, throwing him a glare. “I didn’t dive in. I—” You pause, clenching your jaw. “This is so typical of you. Showing up with your stupid truck, your stupid smirk—”

“My charm?” he cuts in, throwing you a sideways glance.“Your nerve,” you correct sharply, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you. Rafe laughs softly, the sound low and infuriatingly smug as he shifts gears and speeds up. The tension in the cab is palpable, thick enough to cut through, but he seems entirely at ease. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Relax,” he drawls after a moment, his tone smooth and teasing. “You got away unnoticed. Katie’s none the wiser. You grit your teeth, turning your gaze out the window. The scenery blurs as the truck tears down the road, but the distant hum of the engine does little to settle your nerves. The weight of his attention is impossible to ignore, like a spotlight burning into the side of your face.

After a long pause, Rafe speaks again, his voice quieter now but still tinged with amusement. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually get in.” You whip your head around to face him, your brow furrowing. “Then why did you ask?” He shrugs, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that maddening half-smile. “Call it a hunch. Figured you might surprise me.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. There’s something about the way he says it—like he’s already won some unspoken game—that makes your chest tighten. You shake your head, scoffing under your breath as you turn your gaze back to the road. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though the words lack the bite you intended.

Rafe’s laugh rumbles softly beside you, and even though you hate to admit it, the sound sends a shiver down your spine. You press your lips into a thin line, determined not to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. “What were you even doing there? Were you following me?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you turn toward him.

Rafe glances at you, his smirk deepening as if he finds your accusation amusing. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/l/n,” he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I was going to pick up Katie.” Your eyes widen in disbelief, your jaw dropping slightly. “You were going to pick up your girlfriend and yet, here we are?” you repeat, your voice sharp and incredulous.

Rafe chuckles again, clearly unbothered by the situation. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wow. Great boyfriend you are,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn to look out the window. “She’s probably going to wonder where the hell you are.”

He shrugs, completely nonchalant. “She’ll be fine. She’ll find a way back.” You whip your head back toward him, your mouth falling open. “Are you serious right now? You left her stranded, and you don’t even care?” “She’s not stranded,” Rafe says, his voice calm, as if you’re the one being unreasonable. “Her friends are there. They’ll give her a ride or something.”

You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back in your seat. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe glances at you again, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back another laugh. “What?” “You,” you snap, gesturing toward him. “You’re acting like it’s no big deal, but if the roles were reversed, I guarantee you’d lose your mind if she ditched you for someone else.”

His smirk falters, just slightly, and for a moment, you think you might’ve struck a nerve. But then he shrugs again, the nonchalance returning as he shifts in his seat. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice quieter now, though there’s a glint in his eye that you can’t quite read. “But I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and your stomach twists uncomfortably. You’re not sure what bothers you more—his blatant disregard for Katie or the fact that a small, shameful part of you likes the attention.

~

Rafe’s hands move with purpose, sliding under your shirt, the heat of his palms against your skin sending a jolt through you. You know you should stop this—you know the consequences of what you’re letting happen. But in the haze of his touch, every rational thought feels distant, muffled by the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he wants in the world.

He leans in again, his lips brushing yours, but this time, the kiss is slower, deeper. It’s as if he’s savouring you, drawing out every moment. His fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake, and when he presses his body against yours, you feel yourself giving in completely.

Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low, guttural sound from him that sends a thrill through your entire body. He pulls away for just a second, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. “This is insane,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft.

“I know,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that feels too tender for the fire burning between you. “But I don’t care.” And neither do you. Rafe leans down, capturing your lips once more, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, and with your silent permission, he pulls it over your head, discarding it onto the floor.

His eyes rake over you, filled with a hunger that makes your skin flush under his gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, before his lips find your collarbone, then the curve of your shoulder. Your heart is pounding so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers fumbling in your haste.

He chuckles softly, taking over and shrugging it off in one smooth motion, revealing the toned lines of his chest. Rafe’s lips are on yours again before you can fully process the sight, and he gently lowers you onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight as he hovers above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, his piercing blue eyes searching yours. You hesitate for the briefest of moments, the gravity of what you’re about to do settling over you. But then you nod, your hands finding their way to his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m sure,” you whisper. That’s all he needs.

Rafe kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a mix of passion and restraint, like he’s holding back just enough to savour every moment. The world outside fades away—Katie, the consequences, everything. All that matters is him, and the way he makes you feel like the centre of his universe. And for the rest of the night, he does just that.

[cutielando]

brazil, my heart | m.v.

synopsis: in which Max finally makes a statement during the Brazilian GP

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

Your lip was stuck between your teeth as the whole garage waited anxiously for the start of the race.

The weather had kept everyone on their toes ever since the Sprint race had finished, and it seemed to be set on continuing to do so during the race.

Frankly, it wasn't something that you were very much keen on.

You were very tired, having woken up at 5 am to join Max at the track for the early Qualifying session from 7:30, you didn't want to take a nap after Max was done with Qualifying so you could talk to him, but now you were slowly starting to regret it.

Your nerves were stretched thin as you anxiously watched the 5 lights turn on one by one, your heart jumping in your ribcage once they went out and everyone lunged forward.

"Max up to P11" GP's voice suddenly rang through your headset, making you finally let out a sigh you hadn't realized you had been holding.

Max had long ago come to an agreement with his race engineers to do his best to keep you in the loop with regular updates because he knew you sometimes got too nervous or scared to actually watch the race.

The weather really didn't help your nerves, either.

You were always afraid for Max in dry conditions, but seeing him race in this rain and with the low grip level on the track, let's just say you were gonna have a lot more gray hairs by the time the race is over, which feels like a lifetime away.

Wet racing was often known to be one of Max's best conditions for racing, but it also meant more dangerous conditions.

Seeing the spray that the cars would leave behind, just having to imagine having to drive at such high speeds with water in your face, barely able to see anything, desperately trying to keep the car on track. There was no room for any mistake, no matter how little.

You trusted Max and his abilities, but that didn't mean you weren't still gonna be worried out of your ass for him.

"Red flag. Max is coming into the garage" GP's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, your stance immediately perking up at the sound of the news.

You waited until the cars had come into the pitlane to take off your set of headphones and make your way outside of the garage, anxiously waiting to see your boyfriend emerge from his car.

The moment you had laid eyes on him coming towards you, you hurriedly started walking over to him, not caring about any of the engineers or frankly anyone else from his team.

You only cared about making sure he was okay.

Just to ease your mind and worries.

"Hey babe-" Max barely got a word in before you jumped straight into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

He grunted, but returned the tight hug, careful not to squash your head with his helmet.

You buried your head into his shoulder as best as you could, your heart racing as you finally felt him under your fingertips, okay and all in one piece.

“I’m never joining you at the track for another wet race ever again. I’ve had 4 panic attacks until now” you said, half joking and half telling the truth.

Max laughed, his arms tightening around your waist.

He knew how much you worried about him every time he would get into the car, and he also knew how much you hated the wet races. And he couldn’t blame you, but he was the best in those conditions, so you had nothing to worry about on his end.

“Is it that bad?” he asked, looking at his engineer over your shoulder who gave him a short and worried nod.

“It’s worse. I don’t know how you guys can see the track in front of your eyes from all that spray” you said, slowly letting go of him and stepping back from his arms.

Max pulled up his visor and smiled at you, the crinkles by his eyes telling you everything you needed to know.

“Hey, I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me, I’m driving the race of my life out there and everything is okay. I love you and I’ll come back to you in one piece” he said, holding our face in his gloved hands.

You bit your lip and studied him for a little while before nodding, giving him one last hug before he was pulled away by his engineers to go over data.

Running a hand through your already disheveled hair, you slowly made your way back into the garage, occupying your seat and putting your headphones back on.

Half more of this torture to go.

♡♡♡♡♡

The tears were falling down your cheeks before you could even think about stopping them, before the race was even close to being over.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could imagine what was going on behind Max's helmet, what feelings were going through his mind as he was leading the race towards victory.

Those last few laps seemed like they were taking forever, but then he finally crossed the finish line and took the checkered flag in first position.

You didn't think it was possible, but a new wave of tears started falling down your eyes, sobs racking through your body.

"P1, He's done it, Y/N" GP's voice rung through your ears, but you didn't care for any of it.

The only thing you cared about was seeing Max.

You got up from your chair and put the headphones on a table in front of you, your legs carrying you fast towards where his car was parked.

"Max!" you yelled just as he took off his helmet, his smile radiating as he started walking towards you.

You didn't waste a second before you flung your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as Max squeezed you close.

"I did it" he whispered into your ear, the smile evident in his voice.

You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you clung onto his body.

"I'm so proud of you" you murmured, pressing little kisses on his neck and his cheek.

Nothing could ever beat this feeling, being right there in your arms after winning a much-awaited Grand Prix.

Nothing could be better than that for him.

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[razrbladekiss]

CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn’t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

[puckinghischier]

https://www.tumblr.com/puckinghischier/766626512832266240/hiiiiii-ive-come-to-beg-for-crumbs-lol-seeing

thinking about this for no reason tonight…quinn getting home extra pissed bc he got ejected and you aren’t helping, prancing around in only his jersey doing everything you can to get him to take his anger out on you again

you watched the whole thing happen from the tv in the hotel room, choosing to stay in tonight because it was so cold out. you hate to say it, but you were turned on the second you saw him looking down at the player on the ice, jabbing his stick around after the play had already stopped.

you knew he’d be back early, having already texted you that he’s forgoing any media because he just wants a hot shower and some greasy take out. you had other plans, however. you knew he’d have some pent up feelings. he always tries to hide how frustrated he really is, not wanting to set a bad example for any young captains or players watching. so, you decide to use it to your advantage.

you strip yourself from your clothes, walking over and rummaging through quinn’s game bag. you find the clean, black, skate jersey tucked away inside, and slip it over your bare body. you sprawl yourself out across the large bed, jersey ridden up just enough so your ass peeks out. you lay there in wait, wanting to be nothing more than his stress reliever tonight.

when he finally makes his way into the room, he tosses his bag down at the door and stalks towards the bathroom. he doesn’t even look your way, shutting the door and turning the shower on. shock and disappointment clouds your features, a small bit of embarrassment settling in your stomach. you stay put, though. waiting. surely when he sees you, he’ll pounce.

he emerges from the small bathroom twenty minutes later, towel wrapped around his waist. he looks at you on the bed, noticing your state.

“why are you wearing my skate jersey?” he asks, not hinting at whether he’s pleased or not.

you shrug. “just…felt like it,” you try to sound sultry and seductive, letting him know what you want.

he stands and stares for a moment before shaking himself out of the trance, walking over to grab a pair of black boxer briefs from his suitcase, dropping the towel and sliding them up his legs before you can even appreciate his bare ass on display.

“did you find anywhere that’s still open and sounds good? m’starving,” he asks you, not bothering to put sweats or a shirt on.

“not yet…didn’t know if maybe you wanted something…sweeter to eat,” you roll over, spreading your legs slightly, giving him a glimpse of your damp pussy.

he sighs out, closing his eyes and pinching his nose while tilting his head up. your embarrassment creeps back in, picking up that he clearly doesn’t want to do this tonight.

you sit up, tugging his jersey down to cover yourself, cheeks flushed and eyes stinging with oncoming tears you will yourself not to drop.

“s-sorry. i’ll…uh…go look up some menus on my phone,” you whisper out, not meeting his eyes as you stand.

you don’t see the way his eyes snap open to look at you, the embarrassed and dejected tone causing alarms to go off in his head.

he reaches out and grabs your arm as you try to walk past him, stopping you in your tracks. placing both hands on your biceps under his jersey, he turns your body to face his, a soft “look at me,” forcing your attention to his face.

he brings a hand up to push a strand of hair out of your face, letting his hand trail down your face before finding its previous spot on your arm.

“m’sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you. s’just…not this time,” he tells you, squeezing the soft flesh of your arms.

you nod, but you need to know if it’s you, or if he’s just really not in the mood. “was…,” you trail off, not knowing if you can handle the answer if it’s not in your favor. “was the jersey too much? just thought, i don’t know…you always say how much you like seeing me in them, and figured you’d need some…stress relief after tonight, so…” you leave the sentence open ended, assuming he understands what you’re not saying.

he chuckles out a dry laugh. “baby, i love seeing you in my jerseys so much, you have no idea,” he lets his gaze travel down to the way your body is swallowed by the black fabric. “but, i don’t trust myself with you tonight,” he confesses, looking back up at your surprised face.

“quinn, i trust you. i do. i know you’d never go too far, or do anything i wasn’t comfortable with,” you rush out, your hands flying up to grip both of his forearms.

he shakes his head, letting it drop. “sweetheart, you have no idea how much i’d love to have my way with you tonight, but i’m so pissed off. so mad at how tonight went. and the fact the team acted like they didn’t even need me?” you can see his eyes darkening the longer he talks, his grip on your arms tightening with each word. “can’t promise what would happen. how rough i’d be. don’t want to hurt you, or worse, scare you off,” he snaps out of his little trance, his grip loosening, but not before you whimpered at the burning squeeze.

it’s your turn to shake your head at him, hands leaning his arms to touch his face.

“q, please, i promise you won’t scare me off, or hurt me. i know my limits, and so do you. i trust you. trust yourself,” you plead with him.

you can tell he’s thinking it over, watching the conversation he’s having with himself in his head.

“i-are you sure?” he asks, looking into your eyes for any sign of doubt.

“use me,” is all you say in response, leaning up on the tips of your toes to whisper the words in his ear seductively. for good measure, you lick a stripe from his ear down his jaw and to the base of his throat.

the growl that erupts from where your tongue was just exploring is carnal, shoving you back from his body towards the bed. the force catches you off guard, falling onto your back on the plush surface.

he walks the short steps towards you, hovering over you. “tell me to stop at any time, okay?” he speaks softly, but with meaning, wanting you to know you’re still the one who’s really in control here.

you nod, sighing out a “okay,” as he rests a large hand on your thigh, sliding it all the way up to your chest, bringing the jersey with it.

he teasingly pinches a nipple, earning a moan from you as you arch your back into the sensation. he looks down at your face, loving how desperate you already are for him.

“remember, you asked for this,” he reminds you, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the hungry, dark look on his face.

‘sure did,’ you think to yourself, knowing if last time was anything to go off of, tonight, coming off of an ejection rather than a simple minor penalty, you were in for a treat.

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Two Hands pt. II

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: smutttt

Part 1

The atmosphere at the Las Vegas Grand Prix was electric. The sun reflected off the vibrant paddock, buzzing with drivers, team members, and fans. Y/n and Tate had just wrapped up soundcheck for their opening performance and were now taking in the sights. It wasn’t every day that you got invited to perform at one of the most glamorous racing events in the world. "This place is insane." Tate said, spinning her phone around to capture the glitzy energy of the paddock. Y/n nodded, shielding her eyes from the desert sun. "Yeah, it’s wild. Let’s not get lost, though."

"Lost? In the middle of this crowd? No chance." Tate replied with a mischievous grin. "But you know what we should do? Film a TikTok." Y/n groaned. "Tate, no."

"Y/n, yes. It’s perfect! We’re at a Grand Prix, we’re musicians, and we have viral audio just begging to be used." Reluctantly, Y/n agreed. She followed Tate to an open section of the paddock, where they started filming. "Okay, when I point the camera at you, you lip-sync the 'Leclerc' part and strut like you own the place." Tate instructed. "Fine." Y/n said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile. The camera started rolling. Y/n gave her best sultry walk, mouthing the words perfectly as the audio played. "Leclerc! Leclerc! Charles Leclerc-"

She was so focused on the TikTok that she didn’t notice the person in her path until she collided with them. "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!" Y/n exclaimed, hands flying up to steady the person she’d bumped into. "No harm done." The man said with a chuckle, brushing himself off. "Y/n?" Came the all-too-familiar voice from behind her. Her stomach twisted as she turned to see Lando standing there, arms crossed and his trademark smirk firmly in place.

"I see you’ve taken out my physio, Jon." Lando teased, motioning to the man Y/n had bumped into. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry." Y/n said again, her cheeks burning as she addressed Jon. "No worries." Jon said with a friendly smile, clearly used to the chaos of Lando’s world. "Nice TikTok work, by the way." Lando added, the teasing edge in his voice unmistakable. Y/n shot him a glare before grabbing Tate’s arm. "We need to go." She said quickly, dragging her friend away.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Tate burst into laughter. "That was gold! You walked straight into his team like you were aiming for it." Y/n groaned. “This day cannot get worse.”

"Oh, I think it just got better."

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Back in the hair and makeup trailer, Y/n leaned back in her chair while a stylist curled her hair. Tate, however, couldn’t help but poke the bear. "Alright-" Tate started, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Spill. What’s the deal with you and Lando? And don’t say nothing.' Y/n groaned. "There’s nothing to spill."

"Bullshit!" Tate exclaimed, pointing a comb at her. "Nothing does not constitute blushong like a schoolgirl when you bumped into him earlier. What happened? Did it end on bad terms?" Y/n hesitated, but Tate’s relentless stare wore her down. "It didn't end on bad terms, it just shouldn't have happened." She muttered. "It started in Miami. I was trying to get into this club, but the bouncer wouldn’t let me in. Lando saw me outside, recognized me, and invited me to join him instead."

"And?"

"And we ended up back at his hotel room. Drank way too much from the mini-bar, talked about everything, and... yeah, one thing led to another." Tate’s jaw dropped. "You know, i would have really appreciated if you had told me you had slept with Lando before all of this." Y/n shushed her frantically. "Keep it down!"

"Oh, this is gold." Tate said, practically bouncing in her chair. "Wait. Is he why you wrote Two Hands?" Y/n didn’t answer, instead focusing on the stylist adjusting her makeup. "Oh my god, it is!" Tate exclaimed, laughing loudly. "You’re shameless."

"Can we please focus on the performance? You're like a kid!" Y/n grumbled, desperate to change the subject. "Fine, butafterwards? I am asking every question under the sun."

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The stage lights were dazzling, the crowd roaring as Y/n and Tate took the stage. The beat of Two Hands reverberated through the paddock, and Y/n let herself fall into the music, swaying and singing like the world was watching. As the bridge approached, her eyes scanned the crowd. Her heart skipped when she spotted Lando standing near the drivers, arms crossed, a smug grin playing on his lips. The lyrics spilled from her like a confession:

I want them all to see, you look good on top of me. At this time, at night, I need. Not one, not three.

Her gaze locked with his, and she sang directly at him, her voice sultry and unyielding. Just your two hands on me. The smirk on his face faltered, replaced by something darker, more intense. She smirked as she turned back to the audience, the final notes lingering in the air. The crowd continued their cheers as Y/n and Tate began their dance break, before finally ending in their poses and smiling as the crowd erupted into roars. "Thank you Vegas!" Tate exclaimed before the pair ran off stage.

Backstage, Tate was practically vibrating with excitement. "Okay, wow. You really went all in during that performance. Wonder why?" She teased, winking exaggeratedly. "Shut up." Y/n muttered, though her cheeks were warm.

As they finally landed back in their hotel room, Y/n collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. Tate began rambling on about something random while Y/n's phone buzzed, and when she checked it, her stomach flipped.

Lando Come see me. Room 1208.

She stared at the message until Tate, who had been scrolling through her phone nearby, glanced over. "Oh my god. Is that?" Y/n nodded. Tate squealed, jumping up and down on the bed as Y/n thought of a response, or whether to respond at all. "You have to go!" Tate shouted, landing down beside her friend. "No way!" Y/n said, shaking her head. "Yes way!" Tate insisted. "You’d regret it if you didn’t and you know it. You gotta go."

After much convincing, Y/n found herself standing outside Lando’s door, her heart pounding. She raised a trembling hand and knocked and waited for him to answer, fumdbling with her fingers in anticipation. What if someone were to find her there? What would the media say? Not even a moment later, the door opened to reveal Lando, his grin as cocky as ever. "Took you long enough." He started as he leaned against the doorframe.

But Y/n didn’t let him finish. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss as she pushed him back into the room. The door clicked shut behind her as she kicked it closed with her heel. Their bodies collided, the familiar feel of his hard chest against her breasts igniting a fire within her. She moaned softly as his strong arms wrapped around her, his fingers digging into her hips possessively. "I've missed this." He whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck. "Missed having you like this."

Y/n's hands roamed over his broad shoulders, relishing the feel of his firm muscles beneath her palms. "I've missed you too." She confessed, her voice barely audible. "Missed the way you make me feel so alive." Lando's lips found hers, crushing her mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, demanding and possessive, as if he was claiming her all over again. Y/n responded eagerly, matching his passion, their tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. The kiss was a battle of wills, each trying to dominate the other, but it was a battle they both wanted to lose.

Breaking the kiss for air, Lando trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His hands traveled up her thighs, lifting her skirt as he went, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through her body. "You're so fucking beautiful." He growled against her skin, his hands reaching her lace panties. He hooked his fingers into the sides, tugging them down her legs, his eyes never leaving hers. "I want to see all of you."

Y/n stepped out of her panties, kicking them aside, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew Lando loved to watch, and the thought of being on display for him only heightened her arousal. She stood before him, completely exposed, her breasts heaving with each rapid breath. Lando's eyes devoured her, his gaze traveling from her flushed face down to her glistening pussy. "So fucking wet already." He murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Eager, arent you?"

He dropped to his knees before her, his hands gently grasping her thighs, urging them apart. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she felt the warmth of his breath on her sensitive flesh. With slow, deliberate movements, Lando leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste her. A soft moan escaped Y/n's lips as his tongue swirled around her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He teased her gently, licking and sucking, driving her wild with need. His hands held her hips firmly, keeping her steady as he feasted on her, his dark hair brushing against her inner thighs. "Oh, Lando." She whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Don't stop, please."

Lando chuckled, the vibration of his laughter against her sensitive skin sending her closer to the edge. He increased the pace, his tongue working its magic, driving her higher and higher. Y/n's thighs trembled as her orgasm built, her body tense with anticipation. "That's it, baby." He encouraged, his voice hoarse. "Let go, cum for me." His words were all it took. Y/n's body convulsed as an intense orgasm ripped through her, her juices flowing freely. Lando lapped at her eagerly, drinking in her essence, his tongue never slowing until she was reduced to a quivering mess.

As her trembling subsided, Lando stood, his eyes blazing with satisfaction. "That was just the beginning." He promised, his voice low and dangerous. Y/n's eyes widened, anticipation and desire mingling in her gaze. She knew Lando wasn't one to hold back, and the thought of what was to come left her both excited and apprehensive. He guided her towards the bed, his hands roaming over her body, leaving a trail of goosebumps. With a gentle push, he laid her down on the soft sheets, his muscular form hovering over her. "You're going to feel every inch of me." He growled, his voice laced with raw desire.

Y/n's heart raced as she felt the bulge in his pants pressing against her core. She reached down, unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers, eager to free the hard length of him. Lando's breath hitched as she slowly unzipped his pants, his cock springing free, thick and straining. "Fuck, you're beautiful." She whispered, running her fingers along his length, marveling at the way he throbbed in her hand.

Lando groaned, his eyes closing momentarily as he savored the sensation. "I need to be inside you." He rasped, his voice rough. With a swift movement, he positioned himself at her entrance, his tip nudging her wet folds. Y/n arched her back, inviting him in, her body yearning for the familiar fullness. With one smooth thrust, he filled her completely, their bodies joining in a perfect fit. "Yes!" Y/n cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to his size.

Lando began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through her body, his cock hitting all the right spots. He moved with purpose, his powerful body driving into hers, his breath hot on her neck. "You feel so good." He grunted, his voice strained. "So tight around me."

Y/n's hands gripped his ass, urging him deeper, her body craving every inch of him. She matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies moving as one. The room filled with the sounds of their passion—the wet slaps of skin, their labored breathing, and the bed creaking beneath them.

"Harder." She panted, her eyes wild with desire. "Fuck me harder, Lando." Lando obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his cock pounding into her relentlessly. Y/n's body trembled, her orgasm building again, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their union. "That's it, baby." Lando growled, his jaw clenched as he fought his own release. "Cum for me again." His words were like a trigger, sending Y/n over the edge. Her body convulsed around him, her pussy clenching and releasing his throbbing cock. Lando let out a primal roar as her climax milked him, his own orgasm building to an unbearable peak.

With one final, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside her, his hot cum filling her depths. Their bodies shuddered in unison, the pleasure overwhelming, as they rode out their shared climax. As their breathing slowed, Lando collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving. Y/n turned towards him, her fingers tracing the contours of his face, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"That was-" She began, searching for the right words. "Incredible," Lando finished, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "Just as I remembered it." Y/n's heart warmed at his words, knowing that despite the time apart, their connection remained as strong as ever. She snuggled closer, feeling his strong arms wrap around her, and they lay there, content in the aftermath of their passionate reunion.

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@f1fantasys @willowsnook @aerie717 @lifeonawhim @henna006

[loreandletters]

The most important fact is that Jake’s is fine. He is a-okay with being left in a haunted cemetery. All alone. In the middle of the night. He’s also pretty poor, and since fear is costly, being fine and being is his only option. 

Ghosts? Psha! Try looking at his bills, those are scary. Eyeless ghouls? Good thing it doesn’t cost much to scribble out a talisman or sprinkle some salt. Some wannabe witches trying to summon the devil? Not on his fucking watch! Those candles leave a mess, don’t they know that?

People look down on cleaning, but doesn’t anyone realize that the sanitation department runs the world? Garbage men keep the streets clean, ushers man the stores, and Jake weeds and washes graves. What better honor is there than guarding the deceased from moss and mold? No better money too.

Jake’s lamp flickers as he pulls up another weed. 

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, forcing himself not to rush, “must be funny, in a rich man’s world.”

The grave is illuminated poorly, the mossed over letters just barely spelling out ‘here lies Jasmine Helma, the sweetest wife a man could ask for.’ It’s also just barely enough to see the half-screaming ghostly face sticking out of the stone. Jake hums patiently, plucking more weeds that are growing at the foot of the grave.

80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year. Jake chants, the mantra beating religiously within his cranium. The numbers aren’t exactly accurate, but what rich man counts pennies? (he also heard somewhere that rhymes help ward off misfortune) 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

Yeah, he hasn’t been here more than six months, so what? He makes it a year, that’s a six figure salary! All for picking weeds and scrubbing stone (along with the occasional security). He doesn’t need a degree or some nepotism (both of which he doesn’t have), just a spine of steel. Honestly, he doesn’t have that either, but for 160k he does. He’ll fucking sprout wings and fly if they asked him to.

….Jake’s really poor.

Not for long though, he promised himself.

“I’ll kill you!” the ghoulish face shrieked, mouth cranked inhumanly wide, unmoving yet still speaking, “you cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

“I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay,” Jake sings. Ghosts like these forget they’re dead, and only repeat what the last thing they said before they died. It happens the longer they stick around. Their looks fade, their voices lose any recognizable lilt, leaving them with a dragging, wretched voice that is indistinguishable from any other ghost. 

“I’ll kill you! You cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

 “Ain’t that sad?” Jake wasn’t shivering out of fear, he was just cold. Who cared if she was screaming? That wouldn't pay his rent, picking these weeds would. 

“I’ll kill you!”

“And still there never seems to be, a single penny left for me,” Jake fixed his flickering lamp, hand dipping into the bucket of soap and water to fetch the sponge.

“You cheating manwhore!”

“That’s too bad.” Jake began to scrub. He scrubbed around the headstone, around the ghost, and when he was done, everything but that one spot was sparkling clean. The night chilled his drying hands but Jake muscled on. 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

“Cleaning again, Jacob dear?”

“If I got me a wealthy man, I wouldn’t have to work at all,” James' voice immediately became louder, singing now ringing across the graveyard, “I’d fool around and have a ball!”

The floating annoyance chuckled, “if that’s a yes to my offer, I’m afraid you’ll have to be more clear.”

It was a month ago now that he’d chased off the amateur witches. They were ambitious kids, and like all kids, stupid. Breaking into a graveyard to play with powers beyond their control, who does that? Without Jake they likely would have died. Unfortunately, they were skilled idiots. Skilled enough to summon something, just not a demon. Jake isn’t a witch so he can��t say what exactly, only that it isn’t one of hells many soldiers. That’s why the thing calls him by a fake name. He may not know much, but he isn’t stupid enough to be giving out his real name to anyone who asks. For some reason It’s stuck in the graveyard, and because Jake’s only job is to clean the graveyard not fix the graveyard, that isn’t his problem. It’s just another thing he needs to ignore.

“Money, money, money, must be funny, in a rich man’s world!” Jake has been singing this song for the past hour, stuck on a couple verses because he doesn’t actually know the whole thing, and he’s too scared right now to think of another. He’s fine though! Don’t lose it now, Jake. Remember, 80 bucks an hour, 160,000 a year - keep your eyes on the prize!

The next grave has a ghoul hiding behind it, the monstrous thing shivering as it tries to take refuge in the shadow of the headstone. They’re relatively harmless so long as you don’t start chasing them. Just to be sure, he has a shitty talisman that he’d haggaled a priest for, though to be honest he probably shouldn’t have bothered. They tend to feed on happier victims. 

It’s their form that unnerves most people; twig like limbs, far too long for the small torso they’re connected to, with muscles all distorted and twisted. Freaks folks out. Luckily, they're more shadow than physical, so he doesn't worry about stepping on them. He begins his process again, picking weeds and trashing rubbish. Must have been the teenagers again. Don’t they have anything better to do with their time?

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, loud as he can. The not-demon thing trails behind him. 

“Oh Jacob, I could give you money and so much more,” the being takes on a young man's form tonight, chest exposed by an open shirt, the body underneath toned, skin shining in the moonlight as It lays back in the air. Confident in the image It’s made, as if Jake will fall over at the sight alone. “All you have to do is ask.”

Thick manicured hands run across the shapeshifted body in a lustful fashion. Tonight, the face is sharp and beautiful, wet lips and curly hair, with green eyes as sparkling as gems. There’s a pout on his lips. Last shift the thing had taken on a woman, and before that a large wolf, and before that, a cripple - anything to pull his heartstrings. Friendship, romance, companionship - what will it take for Jake to say yes? There’s only one answer, of course.

Money. Money is why he’s here. Best part? This job will get him all his desires without asking him for his soul. He’ll pay off his debts, his rent, his brother's medical bills and he’ll get to be alive to enjoy it. 

So, Jake grits his teeth and bears it. The ghosts, the ghouls, the not-demon; just sings, scrubbing at a leisure pace so that maybe he can get an extra hour on his shift tonight. I mean, c’mon, it’s 80 an hour. Wouldn’t you? 

You've been hired to clean a graveyard every night for 80 bucks an hour. Its haunted. And by god you are going to make that 80 bucks an hour

[aplaceinme]

“I’m just saying… there’s a reason why people say ‘three times it’s a charm’ Evan.”

“And I’m just saying I don’t want to risk it, Tommy,” Evan huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“C’mon, what could possibly happen?” Tommy insists. 

“Hmmm…let me think… oh, yeah, I got it! Given our track record, we break up for good,” Evan says exasperated. 

“That won’t happen again, Evan. We’ve talked things out. Everything has been laid out on the table. We are better than ever,” Tommy says softly, walking up to Evan and tenderly cupping his cheeks, “We are good! Nothing bad will happen, I promise.” 

Evan tries to resist, his pout really pronounced but he can’t fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Fine! Fine! We will go and have dinner at Miceli’s again,” Evan relents, throwing his arms up in the air. “But if things go south again, it will be all your fault, ok?” 

Tommy leans in and kisses him softly, letting the kiss linger a little. “Ok, if something happens, it will be my fault.”

Evan goes to his bedroom to change his clothes, all the while angrily muttering, “Thousand of places in L.A. to go but no! We have to go back to that place… all because the pizza is good… fuck that place.”

“Did you say something?” Tommy asks, trying not to laugh at Evan’s adorableness. 

“Nothing… except… We are not getting spumoni, Tommy!” Evan yells from his bedroom.

Head thrown back in laughter, Tommy sits down in one of the barstools to wait for him to be finished. “Fine but, again, everything will be alright, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that! But you know what else people say? Famous last words! That’s what they say,” Evan says before closing the bathroom room. 

Nodding, Tommy quietly says under his breath as if trying to convince himself, “It will be alright.” 

—

“Will you stop muttering? We are here, and everything has been ok so far, right?” 

“Yeah, so far,” Evan says stubbornly. At Tommy’s raised eyebrow, his shoulders relax. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right! Everything is fine. We are together and everything is fine.”

Tommy holds Evan’s hand across the table and intertwines their fingers. “Exactly.” 

“I’m just glad we aren’t going to the movies after this. I think they also bring bad luck to us,” Evan teases, though he also seems to be serious. 

Wanting to tease him back, Tommy says, “Actually, I saw that they are playing this movie that I wanted to check out…”

“Do not even think about it! Not tonight at least,” Evan points at Tommy seriously. 

“Alright, alright, no movies tonight,” Tommy laughs. “We will just go straight to my place then… find something else to entertain us with.” 

“I’m sure we will,” Evan says with a smirk. 

“Oh my God! I think he’s choking! Somebody help us!” 

Tommy and Evan look over at the table from where the scream came and, after sharing a small glance and a nod, they get up and run over. 

“Move over, make room, make room, we are firefighters,” Evan says loudly, reaching the patient first. 

As Evan starts doing the Heimlich maneuver, Tommy reassures the family and makes sure they give Evan room to work. 

After a couple of agonizing seconds, the man spits out the food and everyone at the restaurant releases a breath of relief and they start to clap.  

Tommy moves over and helps Evan to sit the man down as they start to assess him, asking him if he is feeling alright or if he would rather they call an ambulance. 

Once the man reassures them that he is ok and thanks Evan profusely, they start to walk back to their table. 

“Glad that turned out o-” Evan starts to say but a scream interrupts him. 

“What now?” Tommy asks. 

“Fire in the kitchen!” Someone screams. 

It takes two seconds for chaos to reign. People start to scream and run desperately, pushing tables, chairs, and everything out of their way. 

While Evan calls 911 and starts helping people out of the restaurant, Tommy runs up to the kitchen.

Grabbing a fire extinguisher, Tommy tries to put the fire out, but it’s not enough. The fire is spreading fast, so he just makes sure that no one else is inside the kitchen and then runs outside. 

“Tommy, Tommy,” Evan calls to him and hugs him as soon as he is within reach. 

“Everyone out?” Tommy asks him, quickly looking Evan over to make sure he isn’t hurt. 

“Yeah, I got everyone out and the firefighters should be here any minute now.” 

“Good, good, that’s good!” Tommy says in relief, his adrenaline starting to recede. 

—

Tommy and Evan are standing a few meters away from the restaurant, watching as station 56 put the fire out. The fire spread out so much that the restaurant is absolutely destroyed, Tommy doubts the owners could salvage anything from inside. 

“What is it? I can see you looking at me,” Tommy asks, turning to look at Evan. 

Evan gestures wildly at the restaurant and looks at him incredulously. 

“What?” Tommy plays dumb. 

“What? What?” Evan yelps. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe the fact that the restaurant is literally destroyed. Third’s time a charm, my ass!” 

“Technically, I was right, Evan.” 

“Wha- How?” Evan sputters. 

“Well, nothing bad happened to us. We are ok, there hasn’t been any misunderstanding, no one has confessed anything from their past… we are ok, just like I said we will be,” Tommy reasons.

Evan shakes his head and chuckles, “I can’t believe you! You’re so…” 

“Evan…” Tommy starts but gets interrupted. 

“I love you,” Evan says. 

Tommy does a double take, not expecting that. “What?”

“I love you,” Evan repeats, shrugging his shoulders. 

“This is the first time you’re saying that,” Tommy says, bewildered. 

“I know.” 

“I… I- I…” Tommy looks around them, in disbelief that Evan could love him. 

“You don’t have to say it if you do-”

“I love you too. Of course, I love you,” Tommy tells him quickly, not wanting Evan to doubt it for even one second. 

“Yeah?” Evan beams at him. 

“Yes,” Tommy nods and leans in to kiss him, not caring about the fire, firefighters, bystanders, or anything else. 

Once they part for air, Tommy asks him, “Should we get going? They seem to have everything under control.” 

Evan nods, and they slowly start to walk to where Tommy had parked his truck, with Tommy’s arm around Evan’s waist. 

“Since no one got hurt, I feel ok with admitting that I’m kinda happy that the restaurant went up in flames,” Evan whispers as if it is a secret. 

Tommy chuckles, “Yeah, me too.” 

When they are near the truck, Tommy jokes, “So, what about that movie then?” 

Evan playfully hits him on the shoulder but laughs. “I believe someone said something about finding something to entertained us with at their place?”

“Let’s go then,” Tommy says with a smirk, walking faster towards his truck. 

[deathbxnny]

May I request some headcanons about Victor, selika, Vander and Vi about caring and being with a S/O with ADHD.

Please and thank you

Arcane characters with an s/o that has ADHD. | Viktor, Sevika, Vander and Vi

Thank you for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: No spoilers for season 2, season 1 Viktor, established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He was the first to notice and accommodate to your ADHD, mainly as he knew what it's like to live with something that makes life a little harder in general.

Viktor is very patient and gentle with you when you're having a hard time focusing on tasks or are procrastinating on projects. He understands it just fine and works with you to find strategies that make everything a bit easier. Whether it's studying with you or helping you out on research papers, you both spend a lot of time together, to say the least.

You two enjoy working on your own things in eachothers presence, as it helps you get over your lack of motivation and gives you a chance to talk his ear off freely. Thankfully, he's good at multitasking when it comes to you. Some may think your talking is excessive, but he finds it cute.

Whenever you're a bit more fidgety than usual, he'll hold your hand or give you a reassuring smile, yet doesn't stop your body from regulating itself naturally.

Viktor takes your diagnosis as a simple fact, nothing that defines or undermines your ability to be his s/o. If you need a little help, then he's very clearly okay with that.

》SEVIKA

She doesn't initially understand the concept of ADHD and doesn't care much about it either. Sure, she gets that it affects your day to day life, but she was going to help you out with anything either way even without the diagnosis. So, in other words, she's ready to learn and do as you please.

Your fidgety nature was something she definitely had to get used to, as she mistook it as fear or nervousness rather often. This typically meant that she'll ask you if you're alright a lot or if there was someone bothering you. Over time, she learns to look past it and see it as a natural part of you. If you can't sit still, then she'll let you roam around whilst her eyes watch you closely.

Your endless ramblings and deep interests about the most nichest topics also needed some time for her, but what got her the most was your procrastination issues. She did get not want to do things at all, but she would still attempt to make work as fun as possible in her own way. She'll accompany you everywhere and take care of the heavy lifting.

When she said that she was loyal, she was definitely not kidding around. Your ADHD changes nothing about the way she views you, and so she doesn't make a big deal out of it either.

》VANDER

Probably the most patient and understanding of your ADHD and its symptoms by far. He sees them as a part of you in a good way and simply accepts them as they are.

Whenever you procrastinate on chores or work, he'll try and make it more enjoyable by either helping out or promising you a nice treat after. If it's really bad, though, he'll just do things himself to not stress you out about them too much.

He's the same with your lack of focus, although he sometimes does get concerned about you zoning out when things get serious. Vander will still find his own innovative ideas on making you focus when he needs you to.

He loves listening to you talk to him about the most random things possible, mainly as it shows him that you're comfortable enough with the care he gives you. He also just enjoys weighing in with his own opinions about the many various topics you bring forth at rapid speed.

Either way, he skillfully navigates your diagnosis with ease and doesn't ever let you feel like you're burdening him with it.

》VI

Well, she certainly may have outlandish ideas at times when it comes to working with your ADHD, but she definitely at least has the spirit for it!

Your natural fidgeting and inability to stay still gets interpreted in you just needing to power yourself out. This makes you often find yourself in front of a punching bag with an excited Vi telling you to go ahead and let it alllll out. Whether it works or not is up to you, but you appreciate the effort even after you had explain it wasn't that easy.

Vi will make it her mission to help you out on projects or with work whenever the procrastination gets too bad. She'll also help you out with simpler tasks when she can but will otherwise try to make things fun, at least.

You two enjoy rambling away with each other, and it is her favorite thing. You're both bad at focusing on one topic at a time, so your talks can go on for hours, which she loves very much.

Your diagnosis is just a part of you that she very much loves, even when it gets difficult at times. She never wants you to feel left out or liked less because of it and does her best to never let you think that.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT simping

Requested? Yes! 

Request: 'Can you do svt simping for you?'

Seungcheol

So obvious. At some point, he won’t even try to deny or hide it. Unabashedly into you and will say it to your face and anyone else’s, even if he flushes a little when he does. He pouts and sulks for literally everyone else, but it will be doubled with you. Really just wants all of your attention 24/7 even if he’s sometimes too proud to say so. Please simp back. 

Jeonghan

I’m sorry, but you will never catch him simping. He’s too smooth for that. It’s all smug looks and cool exteriors when he’s around you. But if only anyone knew that he has notifications on for all of your socials when you post. Or has set his phone to vibrate or ring differently when it’s you that reaches out to him so he’s sure not to miss it. Or knows your phone number by heart in case something ever happens to his phone and he loses it. Will firmly deny any of these simping allegations if they’re brought to his attention. 

Joshua

Have you ever opened a door for yourself? Or pulled your own chair out? Or buckled your own seatbelt? I know, I know, he’s truly just a gentleman, but he works overtime on it when it comes to you. I don’t think anyone can even make fun of him for it because he wouldn’t pay attention to any teasing anyway. He’s way too busy seeing what you need next. 

Jun

Does not hear anyone else when you’re talking in a conversation. In fact, gets a little irritated if someone else is talking too long and keeping him from hearing your voice. Will absolutely not be subtle when he turns to you and goes, “oh well, anyway, what were you saying?” Just to make it your turn again. 

Hoshi

The opposite of Jun. Sometimes does not hear a word you say. His eyes glaze over, too busy looking at your features. He really, really tries sometimes to listen, but if he gets distracted a lot of the noise is muffled by his own internal screaming of ‘what do you mean they’re talking to me?? What do you mean they’re mine???’ Down bad. 

Wonwoo

Ooo talk about preferential treatment. I have this image that Mingyu could ask him to go do something with him and he’ll flat out say no, but five minutes later you ask him to do the very same thing and he’ll get a little heart-eyed and say sure. Makes Mingyu’s head explode and the whole group chat will know just how down bad Wonu is, but he’s totally unfazed by it. 

Woozi

No one will ever know if it’s in a public facet. Super private about it, but in said private setting, someone might witness him babying you and waiting on you, calling you sweet nicknames, all with a super cheesy smile. It really warms his group members hearts if they ever see it so they’ll never say anything bad about it. Plus, they’re scared of him so…

DK

There was never any doubt that he was a simp. Might as well tell you, ‘I’m a simp’. Glued to your side and hooked on your every word. If his group members, or even you, say something about it, he’ll smile and nod, going ‘uh huh. What about it?’ Permanent heart eyes. 

Mingyu

Might try to be strong, but will fail miserably. Might try to deny the simping allegations from his group members and might even pout about it, because he is not a simp!!! But then you call or come up to him and say ‘Mingyu, can you help me with this?’ And he’s flying out of his seat. Really, all you have to do is need him and he’s folding, accepting any teasing that is most certainly coming his way. 

Minghao

Another subtle one, but it’s still definitely there. It’s in how he chooses to spend his free time with you instead of by himself or with his group members and other friends. But the dead giveaway is how he looks at you when you talk. You know how Jeonghan might get a little gaslighty sometimes? Minghao will definitely take a page out of his book, saying ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, it’s rude to not look at someone when they talk.’ Super soft about you and tries to be super secretive about it. 

Seungkwan

It is so obvious with how he lets you get away with anything. Did something embarrassing? He will eventually let you live it down. Call him when he is busy? Acts irritated and is far from it. You cheat at a game with Jeonghan? He’s not even that mad because you look happy to have won, albeit unfairly. The members will call him out for it sometimes and he’ll turn his wrath to them instead. They will never get away with anything if they directly address his simping behavior. 

Vernon

Now I think he might like a pretty significant amount of alone time. So it’s a huge sign for his group members when he spends most of that time usually reserved for alone time with you instead. It’s the days off that he’ll spend sun up to sun down with you doing whatever. Or the late night phone calls that last hours while he wears a bit of a dopey smile. If his group members call him a simp, he’ll shrug and say okay. Totally unbothered to be that. 

Chan

Totally obvious by how he never lets you breathe. Constantly drowning you in physical affection and compliments. Will look a little faint if you ever seem shy about any of this, but especially if you dish it out as well. I know I said this earlier, but please simp back. It would annoy his group members so much!!!

[taradactyls]

I think the one I see this most strongly with is Pamela; Or, Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson.

It's hard to read in the modern day. Pamela is a servant girl who spends a lot of time trying not to be raped by her employer, who eventually kidnaps her, and the only other woman in a position to aid her actively helps the attempted rapist to assault her in various ways. At one point she holds Pamela down in bed so it can happen (apparently the woman is this awful because she's an atheist). At another time the employer actively says that he would've continued and actually raped her if she kept fighting him, it was only because Pamela fainted that he stopped the attempt. She woke up from that attempt with her stays (underwear) cut up.

Pamela ends up marrying this man, after realising she has fallen in love with him, who is then 'reformed' by her 'goodness.'

It's meant to be a happy and uplifting tale. Obviously, to us, it's more of a horror story.

We see the victim blame in 'if you'd kept fighting you would've been raped' and also know that being unconscious actually makes you more at risk, and understand that a woman who eventually gave in to her master's advances is not any less 'good' for fearing being violently raped (or worse) if she continued protesting. We are less likely to believe people can be so entirely reformed by the 'virtue' of others, and see a man who would take advantage of power dynamics like that as bad even if he wasn't so aggressive in his advances. There are no real consequences for his crimes and continued harassment of a FIFTEEN YEAR OLD in his employ and who had zero protection or options. It's just all round horrid to our modern eyes.

But in many ways it was actually progressive for the time.

Pamela is a servant who ends the book married (not mistress to) a gentleman with an estate and eventually being accepted and adored by the land owning class. This is a rise of a magnitude far higher than Elizabeth marrying Mr Darcy, Jane Eyre and Mr Rochester, or even Cinderella as she was highborn, and was really making the case that servant women could and do have as much inherent worth as gentlewomen by birth. For how classist 1740 England was, that's a controversial take.

And though it's considered a backwards view now, this was the first novel/work which was really reaching out to lower-class women and saying 'your virtue is worth as much as upper-class women.' I dislike the whole concept of sexual virtue and disagree that Pamela's virtue would be lost through rape, but the point remains that this book was making a case for greater equality between classes in a time where the ruling class relied on being considered naturally better by birth and chosen by god to rule. The novel was criticised for exactly this.

Not only that, but by promoting virginity, he was also championing a woman's right to say no. Pamela's ability and decision to refuse is upheld both positively and as what should have been the final word. The male main character only becomes a 'good' person once he truly understands and respects that. An idea only becomes outdated once the societal framework supporting the status quo has changed, and Samuel Richardson was writing in a time where a servant girl (or any woman really, for instance marital rape wouldn't become a crime for another 250 years) who refused her master's advances would have little recourse or sympathy if he didn't respect that no. This novel was telling all those girls your sexual autonomy is worth fighting for... you're worth fighting for.

And, though we see that Pamela's abuser essentially gets what he wanted and gets off scot-free (an illness and a change of heart isn't going to fly with a judge, you douche), it was revolutionary for the time in that it's told from the victim's perspective as a horrible series of events. These acts, many of which were common place and not illegal (some even actively considered romantic) at the time, was a criticism of many masculine behaviours and championed the woman's/victim's perspective. It drew attention to what we now consider domestic violence and abuse of power. Though we might argue about his methods (a minority of contemporary readers viewed the novel as salacious because of the inclusion of the assault scenes) the author's intent was to actively give moral instruction into proper domestic behaviour. Which, aside from 'sexually assaulting your employees is bad' does also include less radical and actively harmful views such as 'be loyal and loving to your employers no matter what.' Historical novels are a mixed bag like that, but he was still advocating for mutual social contracts towards each other, and rejecting the idea that the rich men who ruled the world could do whatever they wanted. He was speaking for the powerless against those in power.

I'll probably never read the book again, it was too uncomfortable for me, but without an understanding of the time it was written it would feel like gratuitous assault and a glorification of abusive relationships, when really, it was the exact opposite. We're just lucky enough to live in a society where many of his arguments have been accepted both socially and legally for so long that it's hard to imagine a case ever needed to be made in their favour.

tbh nothing frustrates me more then when people brush off classics like pride and prejudice or jane eyre because they don’t fit into today’s modern standards of feminism and social justice etc.

remember that these novels were published in the 19th century. and that some of the things that were written in these books may seem trivial to us today but would have absolutely fucking shook readers in the victorian era

like,,,,,elizabeth rejecting mr collins because she doesn’t love him even though it would have been considered her duty in her family to marry him? or jane eyre not agreeing to marry mr rochester unless it was on her own terms? hell even anne brontë wrote a lesser known novel about a wife leaving her abusive husband with her five year old son to live a better life?? do y’all realize how unheard of that would be in the 1800′s?? where women were considered more of a commodity than actual human beings??

even though they might not be up to todays standards of modern feminism and romance, they were still HUGE building blocks for equality for that time period. so if you’re a reader who says to themselves ‘I read classics with modern standards applied and I can’t get past that’ then you are most likely going to be disappointed when reading classics and not fully understand their significance to that time period 

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Can I ask for Headcanons/Scenario with the crew members where it's a normal tulpar haul. But the reader is an extremely experienced captain of another ship,and they're older,more built and more strict. Like think 6'7,built like an extreme weightlifter,very classy and formal.

And they're on the tulpar to look after everything because it's an incredibly important shipment? What would the crew members reactions be to the reader appearing very strict,no-nonsense,cold and condescending. But once they get close, the reader is actually very nice.

also can it be a male reader? Thank you! I love your writing. <3

Melting the Ice away.

Crew Members x Male! Older! Strict! Reader. [ Reader is a high ranking captain of another pony express ship ]

a/n; this ask was basically buried deep in my inbox,i was just scrolling through and found it.

Tulpar! Captain,Curly.

Oh boy,and they used to say that curly was the most able employee at pony express. Clearly they lied,Cause LOOK. AT. YOU.

For the first time in his career,he felt intimidated.

The way you basically hovered over him,gave him chills ngl.

He admires you so fucking hard, your efficiency ,your capability, and your experienced nature. you need something? Grant Curly is on it!... He found himself trying to... Impress you???

He was basically always looking for your approval at things,no matter how small or trivial it was. He needed your opinion.

He was also starting to wonder wether or not the feeling of intimidation... was rather something else.

He is definitely feelin a lil somethin somethin.

When he actually got to know you,and saw how kind and sweet you actually were. This guy just fell,he fell guys,he just fell.

Co-Pilot, Jimmy.

Manz is PISSED.

He is freaking LIVID,as if Curly wasn't already enough,bossing him around.

He'll never ever admit it to anyone,but he was basically scared of you,of how... Domineering you were.

He is jealous of how put together you were,always effortlessly classy.

He couldn't decide whether he wanted to be you,or wanted to be with you.

He didn't even notice it,but you found him staring,so intently that it actually concerned you.

Whenever you would try to interact with him he'll make up an excuse and run away.

But he,too wanted to get on your good side.

He'll die before ever admitting it,but he was craving your praise so fucking bad.

He is just dying on the inside,he desperately wants to hear you call him a 'Good Boy'.

Maybe he'll have to impress you some other way,who knows?

Nurse, Anya.

Let's be fr,the first time Anya saw you,her heart skipped a bit. I mean c'mon! Can you blame her? She doesn't see handsome, capable, disciplined male colleagues on the regular,does she?

Cut her some slack for staring! She can't help herself for wanting to admire you!

Like the others,she also tries her best to live up to your expectations,to be on your good list. She tries to make sure all your needs are met,(which aren't even bothersome,you prefer to do things your own anyway) but she always insists upon helping you out!

You began to notice that no matter who else wasn't around,Anya was always there in the corner of your eye. Was she... Following you around?

By Gods,she can't help it! No other person on the ship is as pleasant to be around as you! She feels at ease when she's with you. And you don't mind.

When she finally gets to know the real you, the butterflies in her stomach settle down into something even more soothing and calming.

Her puppy crush is beginning to grow,maybe someday in the near future, she'll ask you for things, beyond the professional limit.

Mechanic, Swansea.

He is just glad that there is someone on this godforsaken ship who has the screws in their head straight.

He does feel a bit relaxed that he doesn't have to worry about things going wrong with you onboard.

He sometimes has you deal with Daisuke instead. More relaxation time for him.

He can count on you. And he likes you the best on the ship.

Doesn't shy away from praising you in front of others.

Intern,Daisuke.

"WOWZER MISTER YOU'RE SO COOL!".

He was a bit scared of you at first,but quickly warmed up to how refreshing you were.

You were strict,yes. But not as much as Swansea. You never scolded him,or complained about him to others.

Instead you always, efficiently taught him how to do things properly.

The way you spoke,the way you presented yourself. He didn't find it strange how his other, older, colleagues were swooning over you either.

Grew to like you the best on the ship as well,always right by your side.

He does think you're hot,but is intimidated pretty easily.

[maggieslver]

𒅌 | Raising the kids with Vander

— First of all, i’d like to thank the lovely doll that requested this!! I’m so sorry the og request post is now gone, my wifi just isn’t having it today unfortunately.

Now, I’d like to think that you and Vander are close enough that if he was struggling with stress or just it’s a busy day at The Last Drop—he’d be able to turn to you to help with the kids.

You two were a team, you worked together to ensure the kids get everything they’d need.

Whether it was getting them ready in the morning, or cleaning them up after some alleyway scrap they’d got themselves into.

The smell of eggs and bacon swam through the air, Powder kneeling between your legs on a cushion as she rambled excitedly about her dream. Mylo sitting beside you, groaning dramatically pretending to die of boredom.

You found her endearing, she was like a puppy—loud and never seemed to run out of energy. Not that you minded, she brought all the life Zaun lacked. Mylo was a charming boy, adoring that stupid wolffish grin (he’d learnt it off of Vander) any time he was in trouble.

Vander was cooking, bickering playfully with Violet as he scrapped the eggs around his pan—Claggor tinkering with some sort of contraption as he listened to the two.

Vander liked to say he was the ‘bad cop’—it was blatantly obvious his frustrations never lied with the kids. More the stupid situations they’d get themselves into.

His frustration stemmed with fear, he couldn’t imagine a world without the kids, he couldn’t bear the thought of loosing them.

He confessed this all to you late at night, you two were sitting on a couch together—he didn’t think everything he said was ever going to be spoken allowed. But, he spilt it all to you.

One thing I’d like to think is that Vander has a small collection of trinkets—A metal flower, covered in thorns and paint from Powder. A tiny figurine adoring stupidly massive gauntlets from Violet. One of those singing fishes, that only let out horrific screams from Mylo. And a new pair of work gloves from Claggor.

He held onto a lot, even if it seemed like junk—he kept everything he’d been given from them.

You thought it was cute, his frowning horde of random items.

You gave him one of his favourites, a strip of pictures taken in one of those dingy booths—you and the four kids all goofing around and pulling faces.

Overall you two take great care of each other and the kiddies!!

IM SO SORRY ITS SO SHORT

It isn’t my best work either, please try and ignore that 😭

[letorip]

aline

“et j'ai crié, crié "aline!" pour qu'elle revienne, et j'ai pleuré, pleuré, oh j'avais trop de peine”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: sometimes you’d talk about dying to wednesday, though it was something an addams couldn’t ever really fear. that was, until the person being lost was you.

warnings: erm you die lol, major character death, wednesday being sad, mentions of blood, self sacrifice, maybe a little contrived way to die but too bad

word count: 1.6k

A/N: i promise im okay but this was truly an interesting plot line to follow, and i couldn’t bear not writing it down. if it made you sad, don’t worry, because i have more fluffy stuff on the way. it was something short i had considered doing for a long time, so even if this flops i'm completely happy with how it came out.

===+++===

===+++===

"Wednesday?" you asked, eyes on the wooden ceiling of her room. From the way her head rests against the warm plane of your chest, she can feel the smooth skin move as you say her name, heart right under her ear. It nearly lulls her to sleep, had it not been a question.

"Yes?" she purrs, lazily propping herself up on her arm. There are heavy weights on her eyelids, but the line of your mouth tells her something is troubling you. You’re too saturnine, much too glum for what you and Wednesday just did, and her eyes soften imperceptibly, her thumb going to your side to quietly stroke itself back and forth there. “What’s plaguing you?”

You can’t help but shudder at the contact of her hand and the goosebumps the pads of her fingers leave in their wake. “Are you... do you...," you attempt, the question falling flat on your tongue. She furrows her eyebrows at your hesitation.

"Say your thoughts,” she says, forehead creased in concern. It's almost funny, how caring and soft she is, now that she's given up on trying to seem aloof and apathetic towards you, her skin warm against your own.

The Addams Curse to love someone with every fibre of their being had taken hold of Wednesday entirely, and she looked at you sometimes like you held her beating heart in your hands, or at least like she'd cut it out for you, if you were to need it. She raises a hand, gently brushing a few hairs from your forehead.

“Are you afraid of dying?”

Her eyebrows furrow even further, scanning your face for any indicators of harm. “Where is this coming from? Has something been done to you?”

But you shrug, finally looking down to look her in the eyes with softness. “I was just wondering… are you?”

She narrows her eyes. “You know I’m an Addams. Death is a friend, not a foe. Fear of that serves no purpose. Only cowardice from facing a fight. Only to make you weak.”

Your eyes flit away. “Hm.” There’s no hiding of disagreement in your tone, and it has an embarrassing amount of power over her, how she itches to know what goes on in that head of yours.

“What?”

“I think… I think my fear is what makes me strong. I’m afraid of losing those I care about. And so I fight with every bit of sweat, blood, and tears that I have. Your loss is my deepest fear, Wednesday. My deepest.”

She stared at you momentarily, then looked out the window to the stars. “How is one to fear death when it is far from the end? Death may take me from your sight, but it cannot take me from your heart. There I live, vibrant and whole. Forever.”

===+++===

You’d never even realised how much blood the human body could actually hold, until you were standing there in the centre of the quad with an arrow straight right below your heart, its steel tip poking from your back. Your own blood coated your hands where you cupped it, dribbling down the splintered wood and splattering in droplets to the cobblestone in thick, dark red splotches.

The blood— your blood— is coming out even more now, and you turn to look at Wednesday, where you had shoved her out of harm’s way. Her eyes are wide in horror, like she's seeing something straight from a nightmare of hers, and you take a clammy step towards her, frigid and burning at the same time.

“Wens—” you stammer, and suddenly your knees are giving out. She rushes forward, trying to catch you in her arms, but you're too heavy, deadweight that tugs on her. You fall onto them, your knees, clutching at the newly opened maw of your chest with a gasp, and before you know it you’re falling forward towards the floor.

Wednesday follows you down, catching you before you can land, and she holds you tight, turning you over onto your back as the arrow sticks straight up from the heart she cherishes so much. The wood is already splintering, nearly falling apart, and her hand goes to your wound as if trying to put your blood back into your body.

It’s uncomfortable, with the metal tip of Xavier’s arrow sticking from the back of your chest and lightly prodding at her front, but she squeezes you tightly against herself, hands frantically travelling the length of your torso and raking over your arms, anywhere she can reach. But there’s nothing she can do. It’s a thought she refuses to confront, but Wednesday specialised in dealing with dead things; she was unfamiliar with how to keep things alive, no matter how much she needed you to stay that way.

Crackstone is cackling from his belly, a toothy sneer spreading itself out onto his leathery face as he looks at the damage he’s done, stomping towards you. “Hey!” Bianca yells from the opposite door, and the pilgrim whips around, as Xavier takes another shot at him. It lands in the pilgrim’s arm but he pulls it out like a twig, snapping it and tossing it to the ground, before he makes his way towards Bianca.

Your white shirt is completely soaking itself in your blood, droplets running down Wednesday’s fingers where she tries to hold the wound and apply pressure. But there was no saving a skewered heart.

"No, no, no," she coos, voice barely above a whisper and tears already pricking at the corners of her eyes. You're crying out in pain as the arrow shifts within you, fingers scrabbling at Wednesday's arms where they hold at you. Your fingernails sink into her skin, and she winces but doesn't pull away.

"Wens," you say again, infinitely weaker than before. "Wednesday…” It’s like your mouth won’t move coherently with your brain, like words mean trudging through ice and slush to come out, even the red-hot ones you need to say. “H—Hurts,” you spit out, and with it comes a small stream of blood from your mouth as you cough and air becomes less and less available.

She nods in a rush, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “I’m aware, I know,” she’s completely crying now. “We will get you care, cara mia, just hol— just hold on for a little while.” But you’re shaking your head.

“Don’t have— I don’t have—” you’re coughing up more blood, and she wipes it from your chin with a shaky hand. There’s just too much of it, everywhere. You had once gifted her some as a token of your devotion and it was a prized possession of hers, but now there was so much and she would have given it back in a heartbeat if it gave you any more of those.

She can vaguely hear Bianca and Xavier yelling on the other side of the quad, and various fires rage on in their chaotic yet vibrant corners, tickling against her skin in large crackles, burning in the reflection of your eyes that stare up at the sky. Your head is leaning against her shoulder, and she raises her hand, stroking through your soft hair as you heave in her arms.

“You must live, I promise you,” Wednesday insists fiercely, “I promise you, if you die right now, I will kill you.” But its tears that streak down her face, her jaw clenching and dark eyeliner running down her cheeks. She’s squeezing you right against herself, feeling the pain of the sharp arrow poke at her own skin.

“Vibrant and wh—whole?” you said with a smile, feeling your voice begin to slow down and with it, the beating of your heart. The blood has pooled in a sick puddle around your body.

She’s shaking her head. “Cara mia, we don’t need to do this, we will get you to a doctor. You will be—”

“—Wednesday,” you interrupt. Your voice has reached an eerie calm that sends a shiver down her spine, and it snaps her from any sort of hope. “Vibrant… and whole?”

She looks down at you for a moment, tracing the features of your nose, the planes of your cheeks, the colours of your eyes and the wryness of your smile. Wednesday swallows. “Forever. You know that. You must always know that.”

You nod, letting out a small laugh. It hurts, she can hear you wheeze right after you done it, but you sit in silence for a moment, and she can feel you get slower and slower, and your shirt gets redder and redder. The tears are uncontrollable, now, as she sits there with you. Her friends are losing in the corner, but she's losing something unthinkable, and she's so damn scared the entire time it's happening.

"The stars look beautiful tonight," you whisper so only she can hear it, your voice cracking at the end. In seconds, you're gone. She can feel the life, the glorious life, evaporate from you, your head lulling back against her and your weight becoming a hundred times heavier, but she doesn't move, squeezing you against her.

She's unsure how long she stays like that, but when she can no longer take it, she shifts, laying you down on the ground. You look peaceful, looking up at the stars, and it takes an effort to close your eyes that Wednesday had never felt with the dead before. She gently closes them, shutting the door on the eyes that used to captivate her very heart. It's almost like she could convince herself that you're only resting for a moment, and she leans over you, placing a meaningful kiss upon your forehead, just like she would when she snuck out after a night of sleeping over, and there were no prying eyes there to watch.

"Vibrant and whole," she whispers like a promise, turning back to the fight with a piece of the sword in her shaking fists. "For you, cara mia."

===+++===

well that was sad... anyways more happy stuff coming next time