#just not doing good today is all lots of thoughts none good

[strawberriesoup]

catch me if you can PT. 1,, ✮⋆˙

☆ street racer!han jisung x cop!fem!reader

☆ genre: street racing AU, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, illegal activity

☆ warnings: lots of breaking of the law (like, felony-level breaking of the law), cursing, fire, injury/pain, near death experience, suggestive content

☆ wc: 6.5k

☆ a/n: i'm so happy i finally got to sit down and write this first part out! honestly i'm pretty pleased with it, and i hope this motivation can stay for the remaining parts! for now, enjoy!

if you make it all the way through, please leave some feedback! i always love to hear other people’s thoughts!! your feedback is what keeps me writing stories like these ❤️❤️

☆ taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools @chancloud8 @hannieslittlerockstar @vixensss @skzpvol @gxtwllsn @yinzgarden @kayleefriedchicken @nightmarenyxx @ick2001 @dwesion

if you would like to be added to my series taglist or my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Unstoppable, that’s what you are. There’s just something about the way your engine rumbles when you shove in the clutch and shift to a higher gear, how you can feel your tires grip the road beneath you, it’s thrilling. Yellow lines blur into one as you grip the wheel tighter, focusing your attention solely on the path ahead. Just a little farther.

Your blinker flashes as you signal your turn into the Wal-mart parking lot.

Really, you can’t imagine anything more unintresting than grocery shopping. There’s no excitement in searching through various assortments of oranges and grapes, no blaring horns and revving engines to go along with determining the best jug of milk to buy.

When you had joined the city police force, it’s safe to say that this is not how you were expecting to spend your wednesday afternoons.

How embarrassing. Yes, you know that shopping is a normal— and necessary— part of life, but that’s just the thing. It’s normal. Mundane, tedious, dull… Must you go on? A normal thing for normal people to be doing on normal days. Definitely not the action-filled life you had always dreamed of for all those years.

The bitter taste of disappointment fills your mouth as you sulk through the isles. It’s busy today. Groups of people bustle past, none of them paying you any mind. Good. You keep your head tucked towards the ground, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with someone who might know you. In the back of your mind, you reason that it’s probably ridiculous to be feeling this way. Even still, you don’t lift your face.

The crime rate has been so low recently, with new police recruits popping up left and right, that you aren't even on duty today. While to most that might seem like good news, to you it’s probably the worst news all week. You wish that someone would just start a car chase or something, that way you might get a chance to break the speed limit. Instead,— since you like to manage your expectations somewhat realistically — you’re here, squinting at your shopping list and trying to keep your squeaking cart under control. The gods of choosing a functional shopping cart had not blessed you today.

After an unnecessarily long chat about missing puppies with the sweet old lady who probably broke the world record for the slowest grocery checkout time, you start the trek back out to your car. It shouldn’t be hard to find, given it’s painted a subtle bright crimson. You search the parking lot for the familiar vehicle. Where did you park again? You probably should have paid more attention.

Then, you hear it. At first, you think maybe it’s just the wind whistling around the building behind you. Are you hearing things? No, because there it is again. An unmistakable scream.

Groceries abandoned, you can feel your pulse leap into your temples as you sprint towards the direction of the sound. Whipping your head around, you struggle to get a grip on your surroundings, the midday sun reflecting off the pavement momentarily blinding you.

Another frantic shout brings you to your senses and you are finally able to pinpoint the source of the commotion. Not far off, a cloud of deep black smoke billows from a car on the street. The car had been capsized, shattered glass scattered in a ten-foot radius surrounding it. On first approach, you can’t even tell the front end from the back end. What’s completely unmistakable though, is the gut-dropping smell of an engine fire.

“Mom!” A childs cry rings out above the other panicked voices. A teenage boy holds the little girl in his arms as she rakes at his shoulder in a feeble attempt to break free and run towards the car.

Bystanders are shouting, trying to tear a man away from the door of the car by his arm, shirt, anything they could get a hold of. You can’t tell if the man’s hands are bleeding from the broken glass or from pulling on the door so hard. Who knows, maybe it’s both.

You don’t know if you’ve ever sprung into action so fast. One second you’re assessing the situation, the next you’re shoving people out of the way to access the door.

The window frame had been crushed so much you can barely even see inside the vehicle, let alone utilize it as a viable method of escape. Judging by the lack of law enforcement around the scene, you can tell the car hasn’t been on fire for long. Good. Even though the foul rank of the engine smoke invades your senses, it’s safe to say the vehicle won’t explode. Yet.

Maybe the other door isn’t stuck. You quickly move to the opposite side and tug at the handle, but immediately jerk your hand back when the metal burns your skin. Angrily, you tug a hand across your face. Think. You need to think. Come on, think.

There. A window that hadn’t been shattered, the back windshield. To access it, you’d have to crawl under the trunk and break it open. If you do that, there’s a good chance you won’t be able to turn back around easily once inside, if at all. You can’t tell to what degree the person inside is injured, but you take the lack of any sort of cry for help as a bad sign.

The desperate wails of the little girl make up your mind for you. There’s no time to lose. You need to get this done, and get it done fast.

Shrugging off your purse, jacket, and anything that could possibly get snagged in the car, you squeeze under the trunk. It’s uncomfortably warm, reminding you of the very real possiblility of explosion once the fire reaches the fuel tank. All your faith is funneled into your pocket knife as you jam the back of it into the windshield. Nothing.

Again, you wind back the knife. A yell escapes you as you once again ram it into the window with all your might. Still, it doesn’t yield.

Shit. shit. You have to get in there. You can see the outline of what looks to be a human form inside the car, but no movement. One more time. You can do this.

The man that had been tugging at the door is kneeling behind you, unable to fit underneath the car. He reaches under, stretching his red-stained fingers towards you. At first, you don’t understand what he’s trying to do. Then, it clicks. Wrapping his hand around your own, The knife is encompassed beneath both of your hands. The man’s voice is hoarse as he counts to three. Together, you drive the tool into the windshield.

Finally, the window shatters with a crash. Dark smoke pours out, stinging your eyes and forcing a cough from your lungs. Wasting no time, you squeeze the man’s hand before taking a deep breath and ducking inside.

Shattered glass slices open your palm and you hiss at the white flash of pain. There’s no time to check the damage right now, you’ll deal with injuries later. You tearily squint through the smoke, finally laying your eyes upon a still figure in the passenger’s seat. Still buckled in, she hangs awkwardly from the seat, supported by the seatbelt.

A drop of sweat falls into your eyes. The heat alone is suffocating, but paired with the smoke the conditions are nearly unbearable. The steadily ticking clock of oxygen deprivation hangs heavy over your head, you won’t be of much help if you’re passed out. You grunt as you stretch your arm up to reach for the buckle.

With a click, the woman falls from the seat. No movement. You can’t even tell if she’s breathing.

How the fuck are you going to get her out of here? The car interior around you suddenly feels too small, your vision beginning to spin. No, get a handle of yourself. These people are depending on you. That little girl is depending on you. The image of the little girl’s face, twisted with fear and desperation, fuels you to set your jaw and grab a hold of the woman’s arm.

If you can just pull her past you, you might be able to push her the rest of the way, getting her out as quickly as possible for medical attention, as EMS should be here soon. As if on cue, you hear blaring sirens steadily approching over the crackling of the fire.

Straining, you are able to tug at the woman until she’s past you. Blood roars in your ears as you use the rest of your energy to try and push her the rest of the way. It’s not graceful by any means, but you manage to shove her far enough towards the shattered window for her to be pulled out by a team of gloved hands.

You collapse onto the floor below. Dark fog breaches the corners of your vision. Is that the smoke? Maybe. You can’t even tell at this point. A cough wracks its way through your body as the pulse of adrenaline leaves you.

Well, at least you were able to help. You can feel your eyelids slowly blinking closed, despite your efforts to fight it.

What’s left of your vision is suddenly blocked by… a face? Holy shit. Did you die? In front of you hovers a face that looks like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. A perfectly angled nose sits between two dark eyes that remind you of the cool blanket of night. His lips are moving and you lament over the fact you can’t hear his voice due to an annoyingly loud ringing filling your ears. If this is what heaven is like, you don’t think you mind dying so much.

You can distantly feel your body being lifted as you drift out of conciousness.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“That was some crazy shit back there, y’know.”

You blink your eyes open, focusing on the source of the familiar voice next to you. It’s Seungmin, your patrol partner. He’s sitting on the edge of the ambulance, knee bouncing up and down. His stare, unreadable as always, greets you. You let out a much-needed sigh of relief. As much as he gets on your nerves, you are definitely more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Seungmin? What happened? Is that— ow, shit!” You sit up too fast from your stretcher and immediately need to lay back down due to a stabbing pain in your skull. “Is that lady okay?” as the sharp pain withdraws into a dull throb, the past events slowly resurface in your mind. Wait. That guy. The one who you saw just before you passed out, who was he? You had never seen him before. Was he even real?

“Well, I’m not sure if ‘okay’ is the right word to use, but she’s alive at least. She was rushed to the hospital along with her family members as soon as you got her out.” Seungmin crosses over to you, leaning on the edge of your stretcher. You can see him better now, and from here you can catch the slightest bit of worry in his features that was not evident in his voice previously. “Which, by the way, that little stunt of yours almost got you killed. If that guy hadn’t gotten you out of there when he did, you would have been crushed.”

So he was real.

According to Seungmin, right after you had been dragged out, the frame of the car completely collapsed; which would have effectively both trapped you inside and squished you. He’s about to continue with details about how next you probably would have caught on fire, before you punch him square in the arm, earning a cry of pain from both you and Seungmin. You shake the pain out of your bandaged hand as you are painfully reminded of that piece of glass that had cut you.

“Anyways,” you scowl at him when he sends you a not-so-apologetic look, “who was that guy? Is he a new police recruit? I’ve never seen him before.” The only reason you know that for sure is because you would never have forgotten that face. You can picture him in your mind right now. You’ve never seen anyone so… well, perfect.

“No, he’s not. Just some civilian who was stupid enough to jump into a flaming car to save your sorry ass,” Seungmin waves away your indignant defenses and heads off towards a group of officers outside the ambulance, “It was a hit and run, the bastard who caused this mess drove off someplace so we’re trying to see—”

“Where did he go?”

Seungmin faces you, caught off-guard. “What?”

“That guy, where’d he go?” You repeat your question, obviously not at all intrested in whatever was going on with the other officers.

Seungmin’s eyebrows lower as he rolls his eyes and turns away once more. “I dunno, haven’t seen him,” he comments over his shoulder helpfully. Then, he’s gone.

Ugh.

Fuck you, Kim Seungmin

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You have to find him. You will not be able to function as a member of society without knowing that he’s an actual person and not just a result of some hallucination. You had asked every single one of the officers and bystanders at the scene if they knew even just his name (you did not appreciate Seungmin making faces at you the whole time, thank you very much) to no avail; nobody knew anything about this mysterious man.

Fine then. You’ll just have to find him yourself.

Weeks go by, and his face never leaves your mind. Sometimes you swear you can see a flash of his honey skin, or those gorgeous eyes, only to look up and realize with disappointment it is in fact, not him. You wonder how many random passerby you have given an unexplainably sour face. Not that it matters what they thought of you. They probably worked a nine to five at some boring old desk.

One night, Seungmin had caught you searching through the criminal records. Maybe it was a stretch, but hey, you were desperate. You had just reached the ‘H’ column when he snuck up behind you. Upon him tapping your shoulder with a “Whatcha doing” on his lips, you had jumped three feet in the air and quickly closed the tab, responding with a very convincing “Nothing!” and rushing out of the room.

Just a name, that’s all you need. Is that really too much to ask?

Suited up in your standard police attire, you wait in line at your favorite coffee place before your night shift with Seungmin. You had finally been scheduled a full eight hours, but honestly your mind was anywhere but work. The bustling coffee shop atmosphere and the overwhelming smell of coffee does nothing for your scattered thoughts. Why the hell are so many people in line for coffee at 10:00 at night?

“One iced americano for Han Jisung?” The barista calls out the next order.

No way. There’s actually no way.

You have to do a triple take to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. It’s really him. You would recognize his face anywhere.

He’s just as stunning as when you had first seen him. Eyes that same dusky brown, nose that same perfect shape. He has a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head, his hair falling from them in loose waves around his face, framing him like an artwork from the renaissance period. The way he holds himself, too. A casual swagger that so few people can pull off, but he wears it so naturally; completely at ease. One hand in his pocket, he smiles at the barista as she hands him his order, somehow lighting up the entire room with simply his expression.

You are so awestruck that it takes you a second to realize that he’s turned his attention directly to you.

When you do realize though, your heart drops right into your ass. Your first instinct is to jump your gaze to the floor or the ceiling, feigning nonchalance, but you’ve been hyper fixated on his face for so long you cannot bring yourself to look away.

His eyes spark with recognition. You can tell by the way his eyebrows raise amicably as he starts heading towards you. Your heart speeds up to about a million miles per hour.

That is until he looks you up and down. His expression drops and his eyes widen for just a fraction of a second before returning to his previous smile, but this time it feels just a little forced. As he passes you, he nods politely and sweeps past without so much as a word.

What just happened? You watch as he exits the coffee shop. Wait, no, you can’t lose him now, you at least need to thank him. He did save your life after all.

You hustle past the long line much less gracefully than he, catching him outside the door before he can cross the street.

“Hey, wait up!” You call after his retreating form. You see him pause, but he doesn't turn around as you jog up to him. “It’s you! Jisung, right?”

Finally, he faces you. His sunglasses now sit neatly on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his eyes from sight. You can’t detect any of the uncomfort from before in his features. Did you imagine that? Maybe he’s just in a hurry.

“That’s me,” Jisung says, a cute little chuckle punctuates the end of his sentence. His voice is sweet, reminding you of warm brown sugar and butter. Your heart skips a beat as he addresses you with that grin of his, “can I help you with anything, officer?”

It takes you a second to respond, the way he tilts his head at you whilst waiting for a response has you feeling all kinds of weird, bubbly feelings in your chest. You stomp them down and clear your throat.

“No, no I actually wanted to thank you. You know, for saving me. You really didn’t— I mean that was really… courageous of you. And stuff. Anyways. yeah, thanks.” You finish awkwardly, stumbling over your words. Damn it.

Jisung laughs. A beautiful sound, really.

“Thought I recognized you! You’re the pretty little thing who saved that lady from the fire. Gotta hand it to you, officer, you’ve got some guts in there.” He gestures to your badge with a tilt of his head, leaning back on the crosswalk pole and sticking one hand in his pocket.

You’re pretty sure your brain short-circuited at the words ‘pretty little thing’ and you’re not quite sure how to answer, your mouth opening and closing a few times, but no words falling from it.

Jisung grins at your tongue-tied state, letting out another amused huff of laughter and hitting the crosswalk button.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, but you stay safe out there ok? Don’t go jumping into any more flaming vehicles if you can possibly help it, next time I might not be there,” He clicks his teeth and you swear you can see him wink from under his shades. The crosswalk changes to give Jisung the right of way and he heads off across the street.

There you stand, a blushing mess, watching as he heads to a nearby parking spot.

Wait a second, is that his car?

Jisung closes the door to a Chevrolet Camaro, colored in a tasteful matte black. Are you kidding? No, this has got to be a joke, there’s no way he has that car. As the engine purrs to life, you can feel the rumbling vibration in your chest even from across the street. When he pulls out, it’s evident just how suped up it is. There’s an added spoiler on the back and… are those LED lights on the rims? That’s it. You might actually be in love.

The hum of the engine steadily approaches as he pulls up next to you on the street, rolling down the window and looking up at you and your wide eyes.

“Like what you see, officer?” Jisung raises his eyebrows teasingly, a smug little smirk playing on his lips. If it had been anyone else, you’re sure you would be enraged by the expression, but there’s something about him that makes it hot rather than insufferable. He hangs an elbow out the window, lightly tapping his fingers to the bass of some song that plays from his speakers as you take in the vehicle.

“Shut the fuck up, this is yours?” You raise your voice over the sound of the engine, leaning in closer so he can hear you. You momentarily forget that you’re technically on duty right now.

There it is again, that hearty laugh of his. Definitely one of your new favorite sounds.

“Yes ma’am, all mine,” Jisung pulls up his sunglasses, finally giving you a clear view of his face. His face that’s looking more mischievous by the minute. “Maybe one day you’ll do me the honor of taking you for a spin, how’s that sound?” He reaches out and lightly flicks his index finger up the bottom of your chin. Your stomach explodes with butterflies as a result.

“I’m…” You consider your options. Is he serious? He’s definitely flirting with you. Right? He literally just touched your chin while asking if you wanted a ride in his car. He’s definitely flirting. Yeah.

“I’m free tomorrow,” You blurt, against your better judgment. There’s no way in hell you’re going to turn down a opportunity like this.

“Same time, same place?”

You glance at your watch. 10:30 p.m. You should be in the patrol car with Seungmin right about now.

“That works,” You nod. Your answer is a little shaky, but you hide it well.

“Guess I’ll see you then, officer,” Jisung flashes you one last smile, scrunching up his nose and throwing you a half salute. He revvs up his engine once, twice, and then he’s gone.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your legs shake as you head back into the coffee shop to re-order a cup of coffee. You’re going to need it.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

This is stupid. Like, really dumb. You can’t believe you’re doing this.

You’ve been sitting on a bench outside of the coffee shop for the past fifteen minutes. Granted, you’re the one who decided to show up fifteen minutes early, but you’re starting to regret that decision. At least it’s not cold out.

You had spent probably a good three hours debating what the hell you were going to wear. Might seem excessive but there were just so many points to consider. What if you come off too strong? but then again, you wouldn't want to underdress. Or overdress. It’s not even a date, he’s just giving you a ride around, right? Why are you stressing so much?

And so here you wait in your cute little mid-thigh skirt, having decided with a nod that it was a safe bet all around. Plus, it makes your legs look great.

You’re definitely thinking about this too hard.

A quick beep of a car horn catches your attention. You look up right as you feel the distinct purr of Jisung’s engine rumbling in your bones. Thank God, he actually came.

You’re not sure if you’re jittering from the excitement of going on a— Date? You really don’t want to make any assumptions because he hadn’t straight up asked you on a date per say— with the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on or the excitement of getting to ride in his car. Maybe both. You clench and unclench your fists in anticipation. You’re positively itching to feel what it’s like on the road.

Jisung exits the low car smoothly, heading towards you with a wave. His eyes scrunch up at the corners when he smiles, painting his expression with such a lovely friendliness that makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry. His outfit drastically contrasts his inviting face though, he’s dressed in dark grey washed jeans and a burnt orange short sleeve that hugs his upper body almost skin-tight, a jacket tied loosely around his waist. The duality of man, you suppose. The slicked back style of his hair on top of literally everything else about him screams one thing. This man looks like a goddamn racer.

As soon as you realize you’ve been gawping at him for a good couple of moments now, you snap your focus up to his eyes, already feeling a blush creeping it’s way across your cheeks.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, officer,” Jisung gives you a quick up and down, meeting your eyes afterwards with a look that can only be described as playfulness.

Oh he just knows he’s hot, doesn’t he? Obviously you’re not going to argue, because he’s right.

“Oh my god, don’t call me that,” You protest, lightly punching his arm in retaliation. You definitely don’t miss the unmistakable feeling of muscle under your fist, but that’s really besides the point. The point is he has you all bothered and shit with that nickname. You’ve never been called ‘officer’ so… affectionately.

“You’re right,” He raises his hands in defense, “my bad, babe.”

A retort shrivels on your tongue. You’re pretty sure you can feel your body temprature go up at least two degrees as Jisung heads back to his car, beckoning you to follow him. His back is turned but you can already imagine that little self-satisfied smirk on his face.

He’s going to be the death of you.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You can feel the weight of your body being pressed back into the seat as Jisung speeds up his pace, making your eyes nearly roll back into your head.

The engine roars in your ears as you watch the speedometer whip from zero to sixty in the span of three point five seconds. You can’t help but have a wide grin plastered on your face. It feels like a good stretch after a day of sitting on the couch, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve just, well, drove. Carefree, without the looming restriction of a speed limit or the stress of swerving after a runaway car. Just you and the road. And Jisung, but that’s a plus.

One of the biggest reasons you had strived to join the police force throughout the beginning of your adolescence is that you just could not get enough of that adrenaline rush that comes from zooming down the highway at outrageous hours of the night, competing with your high school friends to see who’s car could accelerate the quicket, maintain the best speed, sound the coolest. The amount of sleepness nights you had spent installing countless upgrades on your car just to beat your friends in some silly bet over a couple of dollars instilled in you the certainty that this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

You had foolishly thought that becoming an officer would cure that hunger burning in your gut, but it just made it worse. You didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten until just now, the familiar sound of hopping gears and the healthy rev of a well-loved engine resurfaces so many emotions that you had so carefully stowed away when you had all graduated and moved on to university, no longer having the time or bravery to risk getting caught anymore.

You glance over at Jisung in the driver’s seat. He looks so at ease, you can tell this is his home, his element. You wonder if he feels the same emptiness by adhereing to the law that you do. It seems taboo to think that way, given your occupation, but you can’t help it.

Jisung flicks on his blinker to exit the highway, and you give him a look out of the corner of your eye.

“Mind telling me where we’re going?” You inquire as he slows to a stop at the intersection.

“Thought it would be nice to go to dinner, don’t you think so?” He glances down either side of the street to ensure it’s clear as he proposes the offer.

Maybe that empty feeling in your stomach was hunger.

“Yeah, actually, I do think so.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The restaurant seems strangely empty. A few of the white-clothed tables scattered about the hall are occupied by the quiet bubble of conversation, but other than that the atmosphere is quite still.

Jisung pulls out your chair for you, flamboyantly flipping his hand into a bow as he waits for you to sit. You roll your eyes, badly supressing a smile as you slide into the seat with as much grace as you can manage.

You had both just picked up the menus that had been set in front of you when a low whistle sounds from behind you.

“Who’s the pretty lady, huh, J? Finally found the time to go through that roster of yours?” Your body tenses as someone approaches from the side. You quickly turn your head to get a better view of the newcomer. Oh wow. Was Jisung just friends with hot people in general?

“Ha ha.” Jisung pulls a half-amused face at the man, and gestures to the seat next to him. “This is Changbin. He’s not usually like this, I swear,” Jisung reassures you, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest as Changbin plops down on the seat over. Despite his bold entrance, he nods politely at you in greeting. It becomes evident that he’s just trying to mess with Jisung, meaning no ill-intent (or even much intrest) towards you. You let your muscles relax.

“Well, were you gonna bring her with us tonight?” Changbin gestures towards you, “you know they always get their panties in a twist when one of us has a girl on our arm—”

“She works in law enforcement, isn’t that cool?” Jisung announces a little too loudly, interrupting Changbin, who immediately snaps his mouth shut.

You don’t miss the way Jisung quirks an eyebrow ever-so-slightly at him, a warning. Huh. Your eyes squint in suspicion. What’s this all about?

“Bring me where?” You question Changbin innocently, pushing past Jisung’s subject change and batting your eyes once or twice, just for good measure.

“Bring you to— well, I mean, It’s a place. Definitely. Yeah. Bring you to a place. Somewhere,” Changbin keeps glancing at Jisung as he speaks, who is currently pinching his nosebridge between two fingers, head tilted towards the ceiling.

Changbin falls silent after that, suddenly very intrested in the condition of his shoelaces. You shift your gaze between the two men as an awkward pause falls over the table.

After a long sigh eminating from Jisung, he leans forwards on the table, hands clasped in front of him. His voice is lowered as he speaks.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes bore into your own, not breaking contact as your mind starts running a mile a minute.

Now, the logical answer you would give to a stranger you hardly know is a resounding ‘of course not,’ but this isn’t just anyone. It’s Jisung. The man who risked his very life to save yours, out of the pure goodness of his heart. You can’t imagine not trusting him, you realize. Because you do, you trust him more than you trust yourself, because he did what you couldn’t that day. Without him, you wouldn’t even be here.

“…Yes, I trust you,” You respond, conviction clear in your voice.

Jisung lets out a breath, once again settling back in his chair.

“Then buckle up babe, ‘cause you’re in for a wild night,” He says with a soft chuckle, just as a loud commotion breaks through the restaurant and crowds of people start to pour in through the front door.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jisung is a racer. A street racer, to be specific. Very dangerous, and definitely very illegal.

The restaurant turned out to be a meeting point for two rival districts to compete in some sort of tiebreaker race tonight, and it seems like nearly the entire city had come to watch. Jisung had dragged you through the bustling hall off into a corner, where he met up with Changbin and one other racer. You think you heard the name ‘Chan’ but you’re not too sure. It’s quite loud when you have a room filled with excited fans shouting bets this way and that, sure that their district will win and that they’ll walk home with the jackpot.

Jisung, Changbin, and Chan form a three person racing team. They call themselves ‘3racha’. You thought the name was a joke at first, but the laugh caught in your throat when you realized they were being dead serious. Right now the three are huddled together, murmuring over the pre-determined race course, deciding on any last minute strategies.

Right about now, you should be alerting your police team of the highly illegal activity buzzing all around you. Troops would be sent in immediately and the whole event would be shut down, arrests being made left and right.

But, you don’t want that to happen. Not in the slightest.

You know could lose everything over this, your career, your friends, your reputation. None of that matters to you right now. All you want is to see Jisung and his team race.

Not far off, a group that you assume to be the opposing team stares daggers at 3racha, the tallest one of them making eye contact with you. He says something with a scoff, but you can’t make it out just by reading his lips. Whatever it was though, his other two teammates found it hilarious, one doubling over with laughter and the other giving him a jovial smack on the back.

You back away from their prying eyes, accidentally colliding with Jisung in the process. He looks up at you as you send him a quick ‘sorry’, then he shifts his gaze to the still chortling trio. You can see something in his normally soft gaze harden as he straightens up and reaches an arm around your shoulder, gently but firmly pulling you flush to him.

His physical presence overwhelms your senses, suddenly wrapped in a blanket that dulls the rest of the chaos out. You’re positive he can feel your heart racing as he leans in to whisper in your ear,

“I need you to ignore them, okay? They’re just trying to get us bothered, and you’re an easy target for them. Just stick by us. Can you do that for me?” His breath tickles your ear with every syllable he speaks, making your legs weak. You manage a nod and he pulls away from you with a reassuring pat to your shoulder.

Changbin sends a not-so-discreet middle finger their way, which earns both a scowl from the them and a reprimanding tap on the back of the head from Chan.

Frankly, you are a bit overwhelmed. Even though it was just for a second, you miss Jisung’s calming arm around you. Without it, you feel like you are drowning in the unfamiliar voices babbling every which way, every conversation fighting to be understood in your mind at once. Usually, you know exactly how to handle any given situation with a clear mind— it’s part of your job after all— but this? It’s all so foreign to you you don’t even know where to begin.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, the crowd forms a clear space around both of the teams, allowing room for them to exit the building and enter their vehicles. You scurry after 3racha, feeling quite out of place.

It was to be a relay race. The rules are simple: Three laps around the entire course, each lap assigned to a respective member of each team. Whichever team’s car crosses the finish line first, wins the tiebreaker and takes home the prize. You can tell that mountains of cash are on the line for the boys. Some of the numbers you hear thrown around have your eyes as wide as saucers. If 3racha really is that good, it’s no wonder Jisung is able to afford the kind of car he has.

You’re watching Jisung do a once over of his car, ensuring that everything is safely in order, when he crosses over to you, extending his hand. You furrow your brows, slightly confused, but you take his hand. He smiles, wrapping his fingers tightly around you and squeezing once.

“I want you to ride with me, please?” He says, eyes never leaving your face. You stand in silence for a moment, just soaking in the weight of his hand and the familiarness of his face. The curve of his eyebrow, the slope of his nose, the way his bottom lip always seems to pout out just a little bit, and, oh, those eyes. You feel like you’ve known him for your entire life.

You feel yourself break into a smile.

“Let’s go then,” you squeeze his hand in return.

Jisung’s engine roars to life as him and the other first racer, the tall one’s name is apparently Hyunjin, line up at the designated starting line. 3racha had implored that Jisung go for the first lap, so they would have a healthy leg up on the competition come the second lap, where Changbin would be waiting.

As you wait for the countdown to start your knee bounces up and down, the sickly feeling of intense anticipation eating its way through your stomach.

You feel Jisung’s gaze as he glances over at you, a half grin on his face. What’s he thinking? Your internal question is soon answered as he reaches over and grabs your hand, guiding it to rest on the gearshift.

“10!” A loud voice bellows from a megaphone from outside. The countdown has begun.

Jisung clasps his hand over your own, capturing you in between himself and the vehicle. He’s so warm. Meeting your eyes, he gives you a reassuring nod when he spots your expression, running a thumb along the back of your hand. Now your heart is pounding for a different reason.

“3!” The revving of engines combines with the rush of blood in your ears, the vibrations sending a chill up your spine.

“2!”

“1!”

“Go!”

[clancykisser]

finally got ahold of my meds and could start taking them properly again aughhh. i hope they can help rn

[welcometogrouchland]

I'm going to be so real I do not understand tim & steph shippers who feel that Steph dating Tim again would save her character. You can make an argument that giving Tim a more compelling love interest would be beneficial for him! And you can at least make an argument that the fujo mischaracterization of Steph would stop. However she'd still, inevitably, be treated as a prop character/extension for someone more popular 😭 it also wouldn't make her appear in more books! Tim doesn't have many frequent appearances at the moment either! You can just say you like the couple and want them back together without acting like you have some kind of moral stance

[daisywords]

yikes yikes yikes

[fingertipsmp3]

Ughhhhhhh I hate writing and I hate not writing and I hate myself

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

ok ok so you know how my life has majorly revolved around my pain since july & how that has been extremely difficult :) well lately I find myself getting up later than I want to & making my bed as badly as I possibly can & getting out of the house after noon when I planned to get out in the morning & walking to the library when it’s sunny & sitting there for hours & the whole time I’m most concerned with writing & that it’s incredible what I’m doing, it’s a little paradise

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru was confident that you liked him back. He was positive. He had no doubt in his mind that you were going to be his pretty little wife. Is he getting ahead of himself? Sure, he is, but he's that confident. That's until he noticed how he hadn't received any chocolate from you.

It was Valentine's Day, and he still hasn't received any chocolate from you. Yeah, he had a mountain worth of chocolate from all those people who gave him it, but where was yours? He couldn't find it anywhere. He was sure that you would have placed your chocolate on his desk since you hadn't given him his. He double no triple checked all the chocolates, yet he could not find the one that has your pretty little name written on it. He continued to search through the chocolate pile for the fourth time today.

He must have missed it, right? Or did someone steal it? He swear he's going to hunt that person to the end of the Earth. Who dared to steal something that was rightfully his?

"Satoru, calm down."

He looked up at his best friend, who was trying to hold down a laugh at his panic.

"She'll probably give it to you later. The day just begun."

Right. Suguru is right. You'll give him his chocolate later. He's a good boy. He can wait.

That's what he told himself, but Suguru and Shoko have already received theirs this morning, and his is still nowhere to be found. Where is his chocolate? You're just sitting there in your seat, looking all pretty as if Satoru is not going through a huge dilemma because of you.

He couldn't help his hands that kept inching itself closer to the chocolate you gave Suguru. He wouldn't know if he snatched it, right? Suguru had received a lot of chocolate! He wouldn't know if he took it... was what he convinced himself before Suguru slapped his hand away.

"Satoru," he sighs.

"But Suguru!!!" Satoru whined as he sunk down into his seat.

"Be patient. You'll get yours soon."

But how soon is soon? Satoru isn't exactly known for his patient.

It was the end of the day, and still no chocolate from you. He asked Suguru and Shoko to leave first because he thought you would finally give it to him when both of you were alone. But you haven't. Where was his chocolate?

The two of you were approaching the exit of school, so Satoru made a quick decision, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into an empty classroom. He quickly shut the door and locked it.

"Satoru?" You asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"My chocolate."

"Your chocolate?"

"My chocolate from you! The symbol of your love towards me!"

"I didn't make you any," you replied smoothly. "Forgot to make them yesterday, so I woke up early today to make them, but I guess not early enough. I only had time to finish Shoko's and Suguru's. I didn't have time to make yours. Otherwise, I would have been late."

Satoru swear the world just ended. He looked down at his chest because he swears his heart ripped out of his chest at your words. Nope. Still alive. Why is he still alive in this cruel world? You had no chocolate for him? None? Not even a crumb?

"That's fine with you, right? I mean, you got a bunch of chocolate from other girls! You don't need mine."

He swear he is about to burst into tears. He didn't care about other girls. He didn't care about their chocolate. He wanted yours. How could you be so cruel and deny him of your chocolate? To reject him like this? He was devastated. No. Beyond devastated. Where is the closest cliff so he can jump off?

Pure silence radiated the room as Satoru tried to comprehend this horrible situation. Then he heard a small giggle slip pass your lips. That small giggle soon turns into a full-out laugh.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Satoru," you say as you try to stop laughing.

Was this funny to you? Why were you laughing at his suffering? Do you know how much he looked forward to today? To receive the cute little wrapped up chocolate you made for him? He dreamed of today, and you didn't have chocolate for him?

He then sees you reach into your bag and pull out exactly what he had imagined. A cute little chocolate box wrapped up in a baby blue color with a touch of white ribbon to finish it off. Fuck. He thinks he just got a heart attack seeing your chocolate. His chocolate.

"Princess, please don't joke like that to me ever again. You scared me half to death. I was going to jump off a cliff," he whined as he took the chocolate from your hand.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior. "Stop being dramatic, Satoru. It's just chocolate."

A look of offense dawned his face as you utter those horrendous words to him.

"Chocolate? Just chocolate?" He huffed at you. He can't believe you as you treat this amazing god send gift as just chocolate. "Don't you dare call this just chocolate! This! This right here is proof of your undying love towards me!"

You laughed at his antics– "You're getting ahead of yourself, Satoru."

He delicately placed the chocolate safety away in his bag, treating it as a prized possession. He's looking forward towards white day. He already knows what he wants to get for you. He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face against your neck as he mutters– "You won't be saying that after I wife you up."

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[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.

[redeemingvillains]

of magic & mayhem - mattheo riddle

summary: the strongest wizard of your age also happens to be hogwarts' playboy, and when he sets his sights on you, you realize neither of you have a choice in the matter.

word count: 3k

a/n: this is like nine of my concepts all mashed into one! heavily influenced by my re-read of fourth wing in preparation for onyx storm coming out, anyone who wants to scream about that in my inbox, please do <3

The Great Hall echoed with the excited chatter of friends and classmates and the general cacophony of breakfast; the sounds of scraping cutlery and the clink of dishes and goblets. You and Pansy sat in genial silence as you read your book and she eyed the gossip column of the Daily Prophet.

You were so totally transfixed on your book that you didn't see the looming figure in front of you until he placed his hands on the oak table and leaned casually across it into your airspace.

"Good morning" he drawled smoothly in a deep voice that caused you to glace up only to see Mattheo Riddle's large amber eyes twinkling at you, matched with a smirk that made you feel like you had pixies in your stomach.

You could smell his cologne from this distance, an undeniable mix of woodsmoke, evergreen and cinnamon that made you feel heady.

"Pansy" he acknowledged, nodding at her as she glanced up at him with a surprise that matched your own.

"Mrs. Riddle" he said, acknowledging you as his electric gaze found yours. You felt a deep blush on your cheeks, even as your face scrunched in confusion and your eyes searched his face for a hint of a joke, finding none.

"What did you just call me?" you asked, cocking your head. As much as you tried to supress it, a small smile graced your lips, which didn't go unnoticed.

"What?" he said in mock surprise. "You don't like it? I think it's perfect."

A pause.

"It suits you" he said confidently. He winked at you as your eyebrows shot up and he turned and walked away without another word.

You turned to look at Pansy who was open-mouthed gaping after him before turning to look at you.

"What was that!?" she exclaimed, excited, like you knew something she didn't.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes despite the hammering of your heart in your chest.

"He's a complete flirt, Pans, I'm not putting a lot of weight in whatever he's woken up and decided to say today."

But even as the words came out of your mouth, you couldn't help but feel excited that you'd caught his attention, even if you knew how delicately dangerous it could be.

"But Mrs. Riddle?! Please. I am dying oh my gods!" she said.

"No, we're not even thinking about this. Not unless you want to listen to me cry myself to sleep in three weeks when I've completely fallen for him and he's moved on to someone else. We all know how this goes and I'm not stupid enough to fall for it."

Pansy pursed her lips as she bounced in her seat with excitement, like she was going to explode.

"Okay, but maybe, just hear me out—" she started.

"—No" you said emphatically, as much to her as to yourself.

She stuck her tongue out at you and you returned the gesture.

It was no secret you were sought after; you had your fair share of dates and suitors. And it was no secret that Mattheo Riddle took the concept of incredibly hot fuckboy to another level, which is why, despite his comment and increasingly insistent stares you kept your distance.

Try as you might to forget what he said, or the way his dark eyes had twinkled mischievously as they drank you in, you found your thoughts drifting to him more times than you'd care to admit, and he had no intention of making it any easier for you, because now every time he saw you, he made a point of using your new nickname.

"Good morning, Mrs. Riddle" he said as he passed you in the Great Hall the next day.

"Have a good day, Mrs. Riddle!" he shouted from the opposite side of the common room, which garnered a significant amount of attention and whispers.

"Let me get the door for you, Mrs. Riddle" he said, pushing your classmates out of the way to do so.

"Mmm, gorgeous as ever, Mrs. Riddle" he whispered walking by you in the library in a way that felt like the words themselves danced over every inch of your body.

Pansy was nearly inconsolable over the situation, egging it on eagerly and even picking it up herself.

"Good night, Mrs. Riddle" she said to you as you crawled into bed in your shared dormitory.

"Lay off it, Pansy! Gods" you replied, even as you grinned like an idiot to yourself.

But then she wasn't the only one.

After less than a week of it, the rumor spread like fiendfyre and now Mattheo's friends were smirking at you in the corridor, waving teasingly to you in the common room and offering you every ounce of preferential treatment befitting of the name: knocking Potter off his chair when he took your seat in Potions, forcing a first-year to stand outside your dormitory holding your favorite latte every morning, and ensuring you had a coveted first row seat at their quidditch matches, including the House Cup, which you were excitedly getting ready for when Pansy burst into your room.

"You will never guess what I just heard" she said, grabbing you by the shoulders.

"What's that?" you asked, humoring her frenetic energy.

"Astoria Greengrass having a sob in the girls lav. You know how she and Mattheo have hooked up a few times?—"

You didn't, in fact, know that and couldn't help the pang of jealousy that gripped your chest.

"—Well I heard her telling Penelope Clearwater that he says he doesn't want to anymore and he told Harmony Norman and Maria Warner the same thing!"

Your face tangled in disgust.

"How many girls is he hooking up with? And why do you look so happy about it? What a mess…" you said, sighing as you turned to resume your makeup.

"Why, all of a sudden is he breaking all of them off, hmm?" she said, cocking an eyebrow at you in your mirror.

"I don't know" you said shiftily. "Maybe he's trying to be a better person?!—"

"—Or maybe he has his eyes set on someone else?!" she said insistently. "You know, someone he's given a special nickname to, his name to?"

You opened your mouth to argue with her but you couldn't deny the logic of her statement.

The boys pulled it off, sweeping Gryffindor in the House Cup for the first time in years and the ensuing celebration was electric.

The music in the common room was loud enough to sway the chandeliers in the ceiling, to feel the bass vibrating in your body.

Every Slytherin you knew and quite a few friends from other houses were there, the normally cavernous room filled in a way that made it feel like some sort of night club, bodies covering every inch of space, melding and weaving between each other and raising the temperature of the normally dank dungeon air.

You couldn't help but search the flashing lights and otherwise utter chaos for Mattheo and you didn't have to look for long the way he stood a head taller than almost everyone in the room, even surrounded by his large teammates; not to mention the way they were walking around like kings, taking turns chugging champagne out of their trophy, raucous, rowdy and loud as people cheered around them.

Mattheo himself was in rare form, his handsome curls were slightly askew and his cheeks were rosy from the alcohol and general liveliness of the night. He was dressed in a fitted black tshirt and dark pants and was exuding an energy that was magnetic, even from where you were standing; undeniably, your heart thumped in your chest at the sight of him.

Had you gotten a little dressed up? Of course. It was a celebration, an occasion, why wouldn't you? But as you wound through the sea of bodies, fingers twined in Pansy's, you garnered enough stares and double-takes that had you thinking you may have slightly overdone it.

"Oh, okay queen!" Pansy had said the minute she'd seen your outfit, the way you'd done your makeup and styled your hair, knowing, perhaps, exactly what or who had been on your mind.

You stopped to grab a drink and your cup had barely touched your lips before two guys came up to you that you recognized vaguely from the year below you. They were admittedly cute and you smiled as they compliment you and chatted with you. You leaned in closer to hear them over the music and the crowd and the one closest to you ducked his head toward you when you felt a tingle run from the base of your neck down your spine and a large, warm hand wound its way around your waist, pulling you firmly backwards into what felt like a pliable brick wall. You were startled for only a moment until you caught the undeniable scent of evergreen, of cinnamon.

"Brian is it? Blake? Blaire? Why don't you go get a drink, buddy?" his voice rumbled near your ear, more of a command than a suggestion as Bradley's eyes shot up over your shoulder to the shadow looming there and nodded quickly, retreating.

"Aww" you pouted sarcastically as you turned around. "He was nice, we were having fun!"

You met Mattheo's eyes which were so dark they looked nearly jet black as they glared at you. Had he been jealous?

And like he could read your mind his lip twitched and he rolled his eyes.

"Even if he had a chance with you, which, let's be very clear, he doesn't, he wouldn't know what to do with it."

"And, let me guess, you would?" you asked teasingly.

"Care to find out?" he asked matter-of-factly.

You felt a wave wash over you from your head to your toes, your body tingling with his proximity, with the way his eyes met yours directly, unfaltering despite the myriad distractions around him.

Gods yes you thought, even as you bit your bottom lip, teetering on the edge of a decision you knew you couldn't come back from.

His eyes shamelessly fell to your lips and you suddenly realized that his hands had never left you as they flexed at your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was holding onto you for purchase.

"C'mon" he said, not waiting for a coherent reply from you, which you may never have been able to form had he kept looking at you that way.

His hands left your body only long enough to tangle his fingers in yours and hold them tightly, pulling you behind him as he headed into the sea of bodies on the dance floor, weaving between some as others offered him a wide berth and a congratulations when they realized who he was.

Then, like he was moving in slow motion, he turned to face you, twining your fingers further in his as he pulled you into him, guiding your hand over his shoulder so you were flush to his chest, and his other hand found your waist again, his grip firm and unyielding as he held you to him as if you would argue or try to be anywhere but right here.

You could feel every dip and curve of his body against yours as you moved against each other in a way that felt perfect and also not nearly enough, even though you couldn't get any closer.

You let the hand on his shoulder wander to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling into the curls there and even though the music was loud enough that you could barely hear yourself think, you could feel as much as hear the growl that released in his chest as his hands tightened on you in a way you were certain would leave a bruise.

The lights flickered for just a second, and a few people stopped dancing and shouted but his eyes never left yours, the only acknowledgement he offered, a small grimace on his face, which made you want to kiss his lips back into his irritatingly perfect smirk.

He leaned in, pressing his cheek to yours as his lips hovered to your ear.

"You look stunning, Mrs. Riddle."

He leaned back and you could see his signature smirk gracing his lips again. You opened your mouth to reply as your eyes met his, but your head was swimming at this point. Everything was him all at once, his body against yours, taught and warm to your touch, his breath on you that smelled like cinnamon gum, his cologne, you felt yourself melting into him at his words, closing the only remaining inches between your hips as your hands came to his face and your noses brushed — and then the lights went out in earnest, drowning you in complete darkness.

"Fuck" you heard him mutter strongly before grasping your hand in his as he started to pull you through the imperceptible forms of people who were yelling and shouting, blazing a path through them, pushing people aside brusquely where necessary. He was on a war path and your feet moved quicky to follow him as he cleared most of the crowd and headed directly for the boys dormitory.

He pulled you into a maze of adjoining corridors before swiping his hand causing an approaching door to fly open as he pulled you in behind him. You were barely through it before he swiped his hand again and it slammed closed behind you, forcefully, the energy pouring off of him in a way that reminded you just how strong of a wizard he was, and exactly why absolutely nobody fucked with him.

He turned to you finally, his chest rising and falling as he gripped your waist and pushed you gently against the closed door with a thud. He let his other hand rest beside your head, caging you in. The look of lust on his face was still there, tangled with the same grimace from before, like he was angry, like he was holding something in.

"Mattheo...?" you whispered and he ducked his head away from you, his eyes squeezing shut as the hand at your waist squeezed again, the touch sending an electric tingle up your side that made you gasp.

His gaze came back to you and then he was leaning in, his nose brushing yours again and your hands came to wind around his neck. You caught a glimpse of a smile on his lips as they hovered over yours, barely grazing them, and you could feel static electricity there between you, the air itself alight with energy, vibrating. The temptation was driving you mad, your chest visibly rising and falling against his own and then his lips fell to yours, warm, soft and urgent.

He took your face in his hands and pressed you into the door and you hummed against him. The lights in the room flickered once, then twice, and then rapidly like you were in a horror film before they went out completely, drenching you both in a velvet darkness that was somehow welcoming, like you could feel the shadows themselves dancing over your body, caressing you, enveloping you.

You felt his tongue against your bottom lip and you opened up to him. Your tongued flicked against his and a freezing gust of wind blew papers, books and quills off his desk, hurling them to the ground with a clatter and bang. Mattheo never stopped, his tongue continued to glide over yours and he kissed you like it was the last godsdamn thing he'd ever do.

He hoisted you up so your legs wrapped around his waist and he pressed you back into the door before releasing your lips just long enough to trail kisses down your jaw to your neck that he lavished in a way you were certain there would be a violet bruise in the morning.

Your eyes fluttered in pleasure, lost in him for a moment until you caught sight of the room around you and you froze.

It was midnight black but for the moonlight coming through the window which cast everything in a ghostly shade of white, but what caught your eye was that every object in the room was floating, adrift in the air, the bed, the desk, the bookshelf, all hovering feet off the ground. Lightweight objects like clothing, quills and his books floated higher and higher and then you realized that it was cold enough to see your breath in front of you.

"Mattheo" you breathed, trying to get his attention. Your hand carded through his curls and the chair in the corner took flight.

Wait. Was this him?

"Mrs. Riddle?" he murmured in your neck.

"Mattheo" you said again, a stronger urgency in your voice causing him to relent and look up at you with a puff of air of his own.

"Fuck" he said. "It's – yeah. That's me. Well, that's you actually."

"What?"

"S'no secret that my magic is ... strong. And I'm well practiced at controlling it. With... one exception."

He took your hand and placed it over his chest where you could feel his heart hammering.

You searched his eyes and his eyebrow quirked until he gestured to his room. As if to say 'see?'

This boy had quite literally lost his control at your touch.

"Wait, the lights? The music?" you asked, a small smile on your lips at the realization.

"When you touched me, I just—" he shook his head, exhaling another puff of cold air. "—See what you do to me, Mrs. Riddle?" he said.

"Gods, when are you going to stop calling me that?" you laughed, even as you looked at him and traced a finger over his lips.

"When it's true" he said simply.

You looked confused for a moment until he leaned into you again, his magic radiating off of him.

"What?" you breathed.

"When you're mine, and it's official and I won't have to spend all of my free time reminding everyone you're mine, they'll know. Until then, I'll hedge my bets."

He kissed you.

"Mmpf, but what if I didn't want you to stop?" you murmured against him.

He pulled back to look at you, scanning your face for any sign of a joke, and finding none as your eyes connected with his and his lip quirked in a smile.

"Well, princess,” he whispered against your lips, ghosting them with his, teasing you before biting your bottom lip gently in a way that sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the freezing air.

“Whatever Mrs. Riddle wants—” he murmured, kissing you fully, luxuriously, “—Mrs. Riddle gets.”

ˋ°•*⁀➷ EPILOGUE

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner

[smutoperator]

Tummy Perversions

Hanni Pham, Seol YoonA (Sullyoon) x Male Reader

Tags: anal, anal fingering, ass eating, belly bulge, creampie, cum licking, cum on body, cutie goes slutty, deepthroating, food play, gape, meaty pussy, midriff kink, navel poking, (lots of) oral sex, pearly gates, photoshoot, threesome, tummy licking

Word count: 4554.

Hanni is so cute that sometimes you feel bad about having impure thoughts about her. But her banging body is so hot, you can't help but take pictures of her tummy every time you perform a photoshoot with her.

As you just finished her photoshoot for Calvin Klein, you already wanted Hanni to shoot another one, so you approached her and booked the next session.

"Sure, I'll be there," Hanni says. A few days go by, and Hanni appears at your studio. You take pictures of her, but none are of her face. All you care about is her sexy, perfect tummy. And little does she know she's about to be joined by someone else that Saturday afternoon.

"Sorry for coming late; Music Core just ended, and I had to change clothes rather quickly," Sullyoon tells you. Just as you asked, she brought her Dankook University outfit that drove you crazy a couple days ago. "So, is the photoshoot theme today about colleges?" she asked you, seeing Hanni with her Korea University outfit from the day before.

"Way better," you told her. "And I gotta say, I'm disappointed you're showing so little of your iconic tummy, Yoona," you reply to her.

"Sure," Sullyoon repeats the move she did at the university festival performance, lowering her shorts so you can see more of her belly, with her navel popping out as she does it. "Better now?" she asks. "Definitely," you tell her. Every extra second you spend looking at her reminds you of how beautiful she is from head to toe. She reminds you of all the top visuals you worked with in the past: YoonA, Sana, and Tzuyu, all in one.

"You're such a beauty; are you ready to take some nice pictures?" you ask Sullyoon. "Yes," she enthusiastically answers. "I don't have any assistants today, so I'll have to do it all by myself. Also, girls, you look so hot today," you tell both of them. "I'll go get some food for you before we start," you continue.

You bring the food, but it confuses the girls at first. One bowl of ice cream and one of chocolate syrup. But soon, they will find out what this photoshoot is going to be about. You pour the ice cream into Sullyoon's belly and the chocolate syrup into Hanni's. The girls get shocked as the hot and cold food hits their tummies, but soon that gets replaced by a tingling feeling that sends shivers down the spine as you make your first moves.

You start licking the chocolate syrup from Hanni's cute belly. She can't help but find it weird, but soon starts enjoying that tongue sweeping all over that belly. Sullyoon wants a piece of it too, bringing her tummy close to you so you can lick the ice cream from it. You then back off and take some pictures of the girls with their tummies still covered with food before resuming licking them.

"I want to see your sexy tummies and legs," you tell them. "Show me," you continue. Hanni gets a little hesitant, but Sullyoon enjoys the attention. You have worked with too many JYP girls not to know them at this point. They always show their cute smiles in public but are huge sluts behind closed doors. And Sullyoon is no different.

"Don't be shy, Hanni; show her you can be a tummy queen too," you tell her as you focus on taking pictures of Sullyoon between some more licking of their perfect tummies. You would have never guessed you would develop such a midriff kink, but theirs were just too hard to resist.

You clean their tummies from the food you poured on them and take more pictures of their hot bodies, starting with Hanni. The once shy girl quickly starts to change as she strikes bolder poses with your camera each time, turning around for you to take pictures of her ass as well. "Wow, that's so good," you tell her in between some flashes as she starts sticking her tongue out for the pictures you take of her. "Perfect," you tell Hanni as you start capturing close-ups of her belly and tits. "You look so hot today, little Hanni Pham," you continue. Great shots.

Sullyoon takes her turn next. The months of MCing at Music Core have turned her into a natural in front of the cameras. She always knows where to spot them. You just can't find any flaws in her: from the perfect face to the toned tummy to her protounding pussy that can barely hide under her panties, Sullyoon's deer-esque visuals are those of a goddess.

You take more close-ups of Sullyoon, focusing on her killing trio: face, tummy, and pussy. She enjoys every second of the attention you give her. But you still haven't got a picture of one of her finest assets yet.

"Can you turn around, please?" you ask Sullyoon. She does it with ease, showing you her plump ass for the first time. Looking at it, sometimes you wonder if JYP just creates their visuals in a lab and Sullyoon is their finest creation yet.

"Look how cute you look in the camera." You show your latest picture to Sullyoon, who gives you a big smile. "Come here, Hanni, join her," you tell the Newjeans girl. "Otherwise, I'm going to take pictures of this beautiful goddess all alone forever," you continue.

Hanni joins Sullyoon as she hugs the Nmixx girl from behind. "Grab her assets," you tell the cutie as she rests her hand on Sullyoon's bra and panties. "I knew you could be a slut too, little Hanni," you praise her. "I know it's cute, but I don't want you girls to smile now; just give me the naughtiest looks you can," you tell both as your camera keeps capturing them.

"Holy shit, their tummies are so beautiful," you say as Hanni runs her hand over Sullyoon's belly, but she still keeps her navel visible for you to drool over it. Meanwhile, Sullyoon bends over a little, rubbing her big ass against Hanni's crotch. The girls keep running their hands on the beautiful bodies, but Sullyoon is truly stealing the show. Even the innocent Hanni can't help herself as she runs her hands all over Yoona's hot body and even starts touching her pussy.

Sullyoon quickly gets sandwiched between you and Hanni, as the Newjeans girl pulls Sullyoon's bra down and flashes her tits. You kiss her multiple times, in awe of her beautiful face, but also go down to poke her navel while doing so, making Sullyoon blush. The girls know what to do as Sullyoon removes your shirt while Hanni tries to pull your pants down. You slow them down a bit, but the girls quickly take charge.

As Hanni fully removes Sullyoon's top, you kiss her cute nipples while massaging her belly. Her and Hanni reach towards your pants and slowly pull them down, laughing while doing so. Hanni is the first to grab your bulging erection, while Sullyoon gives you a naughty smile as Hanni kisses her. Hanni is already twisting your cock in anticipation. In the end, she's just like Sullyoon—cute from the outside but another slut behind closed doors.

You groan as the girls massage your man meat hard. Hanni takes the shaft while Sullyoon goes straight for your balls before going down to suck it. Damn, what a perfect view that face stuffed with a big cock is. Sullyoon stares at you as she gently blows your pipe, while you turn your attention to poking Hanni's navel and then move up to suck her tits as she also takes her bra off.

Down low, Sullyoon increases the speed of her blowjob. You didn't know she could suck cock this good. But you should, because after fucking them countless times, you should've known already that JYP girls have great blowjob skills, and Sullyoon is no different, as she licked your shaft from top to bottom.

Hanni wanted a taste of it for herself, taking your dick in her mouth as Sullyoon licked your balls. You could tell she was still learning how to suck cock, but you enjoyed her eagerness to do so, taking a seat in one of the chairs as you pushed your shaft deeper into her throat.

After a while, Hanni gagged on your meat while you and Sullyoon were kissing each other, and you ran your hands over her hot body while Hanni kept sucking you off. "Oh damn," you exclaimed as the little cutie put some extra heat on your cock, deepthroating it to the max, with you dunking her head so she could take it balls deep in her mouth.

Sullyoon got down and enjoyed the sloppy mess Hanni had left on your cock, bobbing her head down in full speed against it. Once Hanni took it back, she added further slopiness and pulled your underwear down, leaving you fully naked as you traded more kisses with Sullyoon and admired her beautiful face while pounding Hanni's cute, fuckable face.

Hanni laid on the chair as Sullyoon dove down to like her pussy and tummy. As the Nmixx girl enjoyed the hotness of Hanni's lower body, you kept filling her face full of your cock, harder and harder. "Oh yes, baby, choke on that dick," you tell her as Hanni moans with the tonguing Sullyoon applies to her pussy.

You sit on top of Hanni's body, rubbing your tip against her navel and your shaft against her belly. Sullyoon quickly jumps in, sliding her face between Hanni's legs to taste your cock.

"Come here," you ask Hanni, who gets up the chair even with Sullyoon licking her pussy. Her thong is already pushed to the side as you run your hands into her ass. It turns out her mouth is the perfect cocksleeve, as she gets on her knees again and takes your cock deep once again. "OH WOW!" you groan as Hanni wraps her warm mouth around your cock. "Can you match her?" you ask Sullyoon.

Sullyoon dives so intensely against your cock that you're forced to pull out after just a couple seconds. "WOW! WOW!" is all you can scream as Sullyoon shows why she is on her way to be the next JYP blowjob master and follow in the footsteps of the likes of Nayeon and Ryujin.

Knowing their deep sucking will kill you early, you just decide to slide your cock between their lips, thursting up their cute faces as the side of your shaft rubs against their mouths. But Sullyoon wants it all, throating your cock to the fullest. "If you get a chance, take all of it," she reminds herself of the words of her teaching unnies.

Sullyoon bobs her head hard on your dick, making you scream in awe. "Are you crazy or something?" you ask her. "I just love a big cock; I can't wait to have it bulging under my tummy," she replies to you.

"Such a greedy slut," you tell her. "If you want it so much, then bend over," you say to Sullyoon, who obliges. With the help of Hanni, her panties are quickly gone, giving you a perfect view of Sullyoon's splendorous ass with nothing on. For the first time, you could take a glimpse of Sullyoon's bare fuckholes, going straight for her tiny and tight anus while her meaty cunt just waited down under.

Hanni couldn't resist and took first dib's on Sullyoon's protruding pussy lips while you rested your head on her fat ass and kept licking her butthole and then spread her cheeks to give Hanni easier access to her holes. You licked Sullyoon's ring as if it were her second navel, poking it with your hand shortly after. The way she moaned was beautiful, like a squealing, horny deer.

You let Hanni take sole control of Sullyoon's tight holes, jerking off as the Newjeans girl buried her face under Sullyoon's big ass. But you quickly ended her fun. It turns out that just looking at Sullyoon makes you even hornier. You have to fuck her asap.

You push Hanni to the side and place your fingers on Sullyoon's meaty slit. Her already ultra-wet core impresses you, who teases her by rubbing your cock against her big butt. At first, you didn't know which hole you were going to pick, but seeing Sullyoon's pussy almost begging to be stuffed made it an easy choice.

Sullyoon got on her knees on the makeup table, facing a huge mirror where you could see every expression her beautiful face was going to make when getting pounded. You teased her by putting your tip in and out of her pussy, already making her moan, before attacking her meaty core. Her already large pussy lips throbbed even further as you stuck your cock deep in her cunt, making her extra sensitive to each thrust you gave her.

After a slow start, you couldn't help but attack this throbbing cunt to the fullest, pounding Sullyoon nonstop as you grabbed her ass hard for a firm grip and slapped your balls full speed against her entrance. The beautiful goddess quickly turned into a moaning mess. Despite the wetness of her core, she was extremely tight, even tighter than some virgin pussies you had fucked before, as her walls quickly enveloped your cock and let no air get inside her pussy.

Sullyoon tried to kiss Hanni to distract herself from the pounding you were giving her, but the Newjeans girl left her hanging. "AHHHHHHHH. AHHHHHHHH!" the deer beauty screamed as your cock shaped her insides and hit her cervix. You grabbed her slim waist and ran your hands over her tummy, poking fun of her. "Is it bulging under there?" you ask her. "YES, DADDY, AHHHHHH," she screams as you show no mercy and destroy her meaty cunt.

As Hanni and Sullyoon line up side by side, you take turns spanking their beautiful asses. Sullyoon's childish moans are driving you insane as you pound her even harder. Noticing how wet the Nmixx girl pussy is, Hanni rests her head on Sullyoon's fat ass, ready to get rewarded with a taste of Sullyoon's juices right out of your cock, which you happily feed to her.

You take turns shoving your cock between Hanni's mouth and Sullyoon's cunt before going back to focus on the latter once again. You're completely addicted to her pussy. You've never fucked one this good before: young, tight, and wet—the perfect mix. Her moans make you go feral as you stretch Sullyoon to the fullest, shoving every single inch of your cock into her core. Hanni licks Sullyoon's tummy right where your cock is bulging under it, as you keep destroying her snatch and show no signs of slowing down.

"Fuck, that's such a good pussy," you say to Sullyoon as the obliteration of her poon keeps going. Hanni now kisses her, trying to muffle her moans, but the barrage of fast and deep thrusts is just too much for Sullyoon to handle, as you make her cum rather easily. "Come here, baby," you order Hanni, who quickly dives to taste all of Sullyoon's wetness that's left on your cock.

Lubed up by Hanni's mouth, you start another round of pounding Sullyoon's cunt. She's truly got a magic box—the perfect fuckhole. JYP should allow a fleshlight to be made out of it, because it's truly amazing. At those times, you're glad you're so accustomed to JYP starlets and their tight pussies you fucked multiple times after countless photoshoots, because if you weren't, you would have already filled it to the brim.

"You're such a good girl; taste that pussy; you deserve it," you say as you pull out of Sullyoon's warm hole. She happily obliges, savoring your cock while you reach under Hanni's own cunt and start fingering it. "Hope this is just as good," you tell her, getting Hanni wet as she moans thanks to your magical hands all over her folds.

You spread Hanni's cheeks open, eating her asshole while Sullyoon stays tasting your cock. The cute Vietnamese girl moans hard as you play with her holes nonstop, spreading her pussy wide open. You really enjoy licking any girl's tiny round hole; it could be either her navel or her anus, but you are always enthusiastic about it.

"Lube that cock," you tell Sullyoon down low. "Spread that ass," you say, giving the command to Hanni up top. The oral fuckfest continues, as you can't get your mouth off Hanni's asshole and Sullyoon can't get her mouth off your cock before you invite her to do Hanni what you did to her before.

"Lick that pussy," you order to Sullyoon as both of you team up on Hanni's fuckholes, kissing each other while eating the cute Newjeans girl out. "You're so beautiful," you tell Sullyoon as you get even naughtier, shoving your middle finger up Hanni's asshole unceremoniously.

"You prepared her pussy well," you tell Sullyoon. "I think it's finally time to sit it on my cock," you say, laying on the studio's floor as Hanni gets on top of you. Sullyoon follows suit, knowing how addicted you got to her pussy, sitting her fat ass straight into your face so you can taste the mix of flavors inside the cunt you had just pounded to oblivion moments ago.

Hanni jumps on your cock and starts riding it as hard as she can. Noticing her enthusiasm, Sullyoon leaves you hanging and starts pushing Hanni faster down your cock while lining up to poke and eat her ass as well. Jump to taste your cock as soon as you slip out of Hanni's pussy for the first time.

As Sullyoon entertains herself with your cock, refusing to give it back to Hanni, you entertain the cutie with more fingering up her ass, perhaps a tease of future moves; who knows? "Slip it back in," you order to a selfish Sullyoon, who obliges even if a little upset. As soon as you get back in, Hanni gets even more insane, smashing your cock full speed and letting her cheeks hit Sullyoon's cute face as the Nmixx girl dives to lick your balls.

"OHHHH FUCKKKK," this time it's you screaming. Hanni and Sullyoon prove to be the perfect team of cute sluts, worshipping your cock like the pair of crazy whores they are. Hanni's cheeks clap even harder against your balls, and her walls close hard against your cock. You kiss Sullyoon to distract yourself, but she keeps massaging your balls as Hanni stays riding you for a few minutes.

As soon as Hanni stops, Sullyoon grabs your pole to clean it completely of Hanni's juices. The Pham girl stays on your lap as you suck her tits while your left hand pokes her navel and your right hand fists her butthole.

Not wanting to get outdone, Sullyoon pushes Hanni to the site and sits her fat ass right on your lap, impaling herself on your big cock. "You're so fucking tight," you tell her as your cock struggles to get in her tiny butthole. You lift one of Sullyoon's long legs, pushing up her ass and making her scream. Hanni senses an opportunity and licks Sullyoon's wide, open pussy. "Now I get why he likes it so much," she thinks.

Sullyoon starts bouncing her big ass on your fat cock while Hanni stays eating her meaty cunt. Her butt hitting your hips is just insane, jiggling hard every time she goes down that man meat. Sullyoon kisses you and lies down, giving you an opportunity to pound her in a pearly gates position. Her pussy might be heaven on earth, but her asshole was hella tight too.

"Lick her cunt," you ordered to Hanni as Sullyoon bounced her ass against your cock while you sat on your studio chair. The moans coming out of the Nmixx girl's mouth were as sexy as her high notes during that festival performance. Hanni, on the other hand, was feasting, taking a full-course meal into Sullyoon's lower body and licking not only her pussy but also her perfect tummy and sexy legs, getting Yoona even closer to another orgasm.

Sullyoon got some relief when your cock slid out of her ass. "Hanni, put it back on," you ordered, but just like Sullyoon was to her before, Hanni was selfish and took the opportunity to enjoy the taste of Sullyoon's butthole, ignoring your orders for a bit. You reached under and spread Sullyoon's pussy for Hanni to eat as soon as she slid your cock back inside Yoona's butt, giving her another pearly gates pounding, sensing it was her preferred position.

Hanni kissed Sullyoon's long legs a few times as you put Yoona's back fully on top of your torso and kept pounding her. Hanni then dove down and started licking your shaft as you pumped into and out of Sullyoon's ass. "Does it taste good, little Hanni?" you asked her. The way she licked your cock was enough for you to get the answer. Sullyoon's asshole got eviscerated until it was sore, with Hanni providing perfect help to keep your shaft throbbing at all moments as you pushed it up Sullyoon's butt nonstop until she came.

Hanni spread Sullyoon's pussy as she lined herself up to taste the juices Sullyoon was squirting out during her orgasm. Sullyoon cumming only made you push harder, as you now placed your finger in her clit and gifted Hanni with more juices each time you thursted up Yoona's sore ass.

"Slut likes it up in the ass, right?" you tell Sullyoon. "Yes, daddy, I li...AHHHHHHH," she can't complete the sentence; her legs close and smash Hanni's face. Her butt gets completely destroyed as you make sure Sullyoon will be practicing in pain over the course of the next week, punishing her for being such a beautiful goddess with amazingly tight fuckholes.

"Come here, taste that ass," you say as soon as you're done fucking Sullyoon. Still trying to recover from the pounding you gave her, the deer beauty kneels down and enjoys the taste of her beautiful big butt, with Hanni joining in to more ball licking.

"It's your turn next," you tell Hanni, putting them on her knees in the chair and spanking her butt. "Open her ass for me," you tell Sullyoon, who does exactly as you want it. Hanni's gaping butthole winks as it waits for your huge cock. You spit on it and tease it with your tip just a couple times before shoving it deep inside her butt.

Fucking Hanni's ass while looking at Sullyoon's pretty face feels like heaven. It doesn't take long before Hanni is completely stretched out, with huge gapes popping out of her butthole every time you give it a little room to breathe. Hanni is even easier to break than Sullyoon, with all the gaping, ass eating, and fisting you had already given her.

"AHHHHH. AHHHHH. AHHHHHH. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK," Hanni screams as you gape her asshole to the size of the moon. She struggles as your thick cock hits it hard and deep, even with Sullyoon helping spread her cheeks. You fuck Sullyoon's face in between thusts inside Hanni, getting the best of both worlds. "Oh, this is so good," you tell them while thursting their pair of holes. Sullyoon pushes Hanni's ass against your cock while you kiss her. "She's getting adjusted to it," she tells you.

"Is she?" you say, pumping Hanni's butt with full force. "It doesn't look like she is," you laugh as you do to Hanni's ass exactly the same you did to Sullyoon's. "Her comeback is soon, right? I want to see this little cutie dancing with a sore ass," you say.

"Open your ass, baby," you order Hanni, plowing her nonstop. Sullyoon now licks your navel, and you love that she is into the same kink that brought her to you in the first place.

After you pull out of Hanni's butt and let her clean your cock off the juices of her ass, you tease Sullyoon by rubbing your cock against her navel. "Wanna see it bulging under it?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy," she replies. "Then lay down on this chair," you order her.

Sullyoon lays on the chair as you put your cock back in her pussy for a second round, determined to keep going until you cum. "AHHHHHH FUCKKKKK, OHHHHH, GODDDDDD," she's screaming after just a couple thursts. You give her throbbing cunt no mercy, as things get even better when you notice your ass is bumping against Hanni's legs with her behind you, making you go even harder.

Sullyoon gets completely manhandled as you watch your anaconda bulge under her sexy midriff. You kiss her, trying to muffle some of her screams, but it's futile. "AHHHHHHH. AHHHHHHHH. AHHHHHH." She keeps yelling at your face. The more she screams, the more you anticipate cumming in her. She lifts her legs as her throbbing walls now make her feel like she's getting stabbed by a massive sword at each thurst you give her. Yoona's eyes roll as she tries to cope with the hard pounding in her pussy.

You give Sullyoon a little time to breathe as you let Hanni, now on her knees, taste her pussy from your cock. "Help me finish on her; warm her up," you tell the Newjeans girl. Hanni dives and eats Sullyoon's throbbing pussy while you feed your cock into the Nmixx girl's mouth, fucking her face hard one last time. "Let me fuck her," you say as Hanni moves to the side, but not without licking Sullyoon's midriff again. 

You go so fast, deep, and hard on Sullyoon's pussy you don't even manage to last for a minute. Her clenching tight walls make you paint them white quickly, but you manage to pull out after a couple loads just in time to shoot the rest all over her beautiful body, hitting the first one in her face and the rest all over her sexy midriff, with the final one filling her navel. Hanni comes in and licks the cum canvas you left on Sullyoon's tummy, in a very reminiscent way to the one you did earlier to the ice cream you poured in her belly, with you picking up your camera just in time to take pictures of her doing it.

"That's all I have for today, you cute sluts; you two milked me dry," you tell both girls, poking their navels one final time with your already flaccid cock. "I crown you, Hanni Pham, the tummy princess, and you, Seol YoonA, the tummy queen of K-pop," you tell them. "I hope you girls can bring your friends to me for another threesome like this."

"Sure," Hanni says. "I can bring Yunjin or a groupmate of mine," she continues. "Me too," Sullyoon says. "My groupmates or my best friend Isa, she's got some great thighs," she continues.

"I can't wait for the next time," you tell them, kissing both girls as they dress themselves up and return to their cute facades.

"Hope we see you soon too, Daddy," they finish as they leave the room.

[clockwayswrites]

Distracting Birb! Part 28

*throws this and runs* Masterpost

“So what did you find out?” Tim asked as he spun around. He was at the computer, of course, and looked most of the way to villainy backlit by the large screens.

(Dick loved his little brother, but villainy really wouldn’t be the most surprising outcome for Tim.)

“What makes you think we found anything?” Jason answered, just to be impertinent.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have called us all down to the Cave if you didn’t have anything.”

Jason scoffed. “You underestimate how willing I am to waste your time.”

“Boys,” Cass said calmly, ending the growing argument with just that word.

“Duke still out on patrol?” Dick asked as a distraction.

Tim glanced over his shoulder and back at the screen. “On his way back. He’ll be here in fifteenish.”

Best not to wait in case Danny woke, Dick decided. They’d be sure to fill him in. “Okay. Well, Danny was not lying, he has a lot of plants.”

“Dick managed to turn on the watering system. We’re all very proud of him,” Jason said flatly.

The siblings all golf clapped, which Dick took a dramatic bow to. “Thank you, thank you. Otherwise a pretty normal apartment. Comfortable, a little nerdy, and not fussy.”

Jason nodded. “There’s a hero—not sure if someone real or fictional—that we saw a few times. Someone called Phantom.”

Obliging, Dick sent the photo of the mug from the bathroom up onto one of the screens. Tim spun back to the computer and started searching.

“There were also a lot of medication in his cabinet; vitamins and several prescriptions also. Some of them had weird labels.”

“Damn, Dick, you couldn’t have gotten a clearer photo?” Tim asked as he squinted at the new set of images.

“As much as I hate to defend Dick,” Jason said as he added photos of his own to the screen, ‘that is a clear photo. Danny was writing in the same language along with English in a bedside notebook of his.”

“Are you in need of glasses, Drake?” Damian asked as he looked from the photos to Tim with a judgmental brow raised.

Tim flicked him off, which Dick considered telling Tim off for (Damian had enough bad habits), but was actually curious about this. “No. The text looks glitched out.’

“No,” Damian said slowly and with a scowl, “it is clear. Odd, but clear.”

“Cass?” Dick asked.

She moved a step closer to the television, head tilted. There was a long, quiet moment before she lifted her hand a gave a so-so motion.

Tim looked from her, to Damian, to the screens. “…Dick?”

“So that’s the thing, it looks wrong to me too. If I look at it too long it’s like it gives me a headache. Jason can read it though.”

Jason snorted. “That’s taking it a bit far. I feel like I should be able to read it. I can get a word here or there maybe.”

“Like it whispers,” Damian said, the quiet words oddly poetic for the youngest of them.

“…yeah, like it whispers,” Jason agreed, just as softly.

“Right, okay. Freaky language that only some of us can even see, much less read, and those who can have spent a lot of time in or around the league,” Tim said. “How concerned do we need to be able this? To we need to be concerned about this? I feel like we need to be concerned about this.”

None of them had an easy answer for Tim.

All of them were grateful for the roar of Duke’s bike interrupting the conversation as he pulled into the cave.

“What are you all looking some grim about?” Duke asked. He yanked his helmet off and took a deep breath, like he hadn’t been able to breath in hours.

It was a feeling they all got. Even a good patrol was draining and Duke had been actively on follow up over what had gone down today with the Mad Hatter. Dick tossed a towel Duke’s way and went to grab a drink for the other from the food safe fridge.

“Stuff from Danny’s place. Take a look at the screen,” Jason said.

“Danny? I thought that we liked the guy,” Duke said, accepting the drink with a grateful thank you. He drained half of it his the way to the screens. “Shit, that’s a lot of meds.”

“Take a closer look,” Jason said, though not unkindly.

Duke stepped closer to the screen.

And went alarmingly still.

Dick resisted the instinctual urge to reach out and grab him. “Duke?”

Duke gave an answering hum and turned his head, just slightly, towards Dick. His eyes never left the screen. Dick wasn’t sure if Duke had really heard him. It was Jason who ended up acting, ended up listening to that instinct. He stepped between Duke and the screen, blocking their newest brother’s view. Duke sucked in a sharp, startled breath.

“What?”

“Hey, come on, have a seat,” Jason said and guided Duke backwards into one of the chairs at the table.

Tim swiftly cleared the photos from the screen.

Duke shook his head. “Sorry, man, I don’t know what… that, huh. What did those look like to you all?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with different levels of medication in them,” Tim replied calmly. “Dick and I can’t read what’s printed on them. Damian, Jason, and maybe Cass can a little which means it might be League writing of some sort.”

Dick leaned against the table. “What did you see, Duke?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with something in them. Like whatever it was my powers were weird about it. I’d have to see them in person to know anything about why, I guess, but they were… I don’t know. But whatever that stuff was I don’t think it’s League because I don’t think it’s human. I don’t think it’s earthly.”

“Well, fuck,” Dick said with a sigh.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

[formula-nyoom]

I'm Proud of You

Pairing: Platonic!Grid x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary: Being the youngest and newest driver to the grid is not an easy adjustment to make and it ends up taking a toll on you. Thankfully some of the other drivers on the grid are there to look out for you.

A/N: Was going to wait till Saturday to post this, but I had a shit day today so I decided to post it now. Hope you enjoy!

~~~

No one really knew what Mercedes was thinking when they announced that they were signing you, an F2 rookie who placed 6th in the Formula 2 Championship, as the one to take the 2nd Mercedes seat. Everyone expected you to be named a reserve driver, so that you could prepare for the jump to F1. Yet here you were, jumping straight into the deep end. Even after you heard the news that you would be racing in Formula One, you were left more with shock and confusion rather than excitement. 

Sure, you had done a couple of test drives for Mercedes and had participated in an F1 practice session or two, but you didn’t think that was enough to put you in contention for a Formula One seat. 

But the media thought otherwise, and so did Mercedes. 

Both your friends and family tried to reassure you that you were good enough to race in Formula One, and you had seen countless interviews of Toto Wolf saying that he had made the right decision in signing you.

But none of that could take away the fact that all eyes were now on you. 

The first female to race in Formula One, and now the youngest on the grid.

The season hadn’t even started and yet you felt like Atlas holding the world weight of pressure that was placed upon your shoulders. You now have something to prove. And everyone was waiting for you to either fly or fall.

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t find the courage to cross the turnstile that led into the paddock during the first race weekend of the season. Crossing over would make everything real. And you would be doing it alone, as both your family and your manager weren't able to get to the track till later in the day. 

“Did you forget your badge on the first day?” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Charles and Pierre.

 “You can just jump over the gate. Yuki does it all the time.” Pierre said. 

 “No, I have my badge…I’m just nervous to enter the paddock.” You said, motioning with your head to the turnstiles.

 “What makes you so nervous?” Charles asked.

“There’s a lot of people. And cameras. And people with cameras. I feel like I’m gonna get swarmed as soon as my foot crosses the entrance.” You said.

 “You’re not wrong. The media doesn’t really know the definition of personal space.” Charles said, taking a sip of his coffee. “If you want, I can act as a buffer and draw the attention away while Pierre helps you get past.”

 “Would that work? I just want to get to the Mercedes hospitality.”

“Oh trust me, the media loves Charles. They’ll be too focused on getting pictures of him to see us walk by.” Pierre said. You looked back at the people past the entrance and there seemed to be more than when you last looked. 

 “Well…if you’re sure it will work then we might as well try.” You said. Charles smiled and gave you a nod. He then took the sunglasses that were hanging on his hat and put them on before entering the paddock. Immediately, the people that had cameras flocked to Charles and started to take his picture as he tried to walk through the paddock. You and Pierre waited a couple moments to build enough distance between you and Charles before the two of you entered the paddock. You clutched the straps of your bag tightly, expecting the nearby paparazzi to turn around and immediately start taking pictures of you and Pierre, but they were too focused on Charles.  

Pierre’s hand hovered over your shoulder as he tried to block you from most of the cameras while guiding you through the paddock. While the two of you managed to pass Charles without getting noticed, you couldn’t help but feel a bit claustrophobic, seeing Charles surrounded by so many people trying to take his picture. Eventually, you and Pierre managed to make it to the Mercedes hospitality building.

“Is it always going to be like this?” You asked Pierre.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Especially since you’re the newest on the grid. I recommend you invest in a good pair of sunglasses. But I’m proud of you for getting past your first swarm of paparazzi.” Pierre said, ruffling your hair. You laughed and swatted his hand away as Charles walked up to the two of you.

 “Whew! Thank god Lewis walked in. I felt like those reporters and paparazzi would never leave.” Charles said.

 “Sorry for making you go through that.” You said, feeling a bit guilty. 

“Pas de soucis. I’m used to it and know how to handle them. Though I will advise that you never enter the paddock by yourself. The reporters are like vultures.” Charles said. “Anyway, we will see you at the press conference, no?”

 “Yep. I’ll see you there.” You said. Charles patted your shoulder before him and Pierre headed to their own team's hospitality. 

~~~

You were beginning to hate the press conferences that you had to go to. Any question that was directed towards you involved your performance on track, or lack thereof as some reporters like to put it. You were getting tired of having to answer questions that made you feel like a failure.

“This question is for (Y/N). We’re now five races into the season and you’ve been continuously out qualified and out placed by your teammate, George? Is there a certain struggle that you’re having with the car that may be the cause of this?”

If you could walk away from this question, you would. But instead you stayed in your seat and picked up the microphone next to you. Damn Mercedes PR training.

 “There’s still some learning with the car. The engineers have said that the car isn’t up to the standards they want it to be, so I am struggling a bit on track.” You said, giving your best PR approved answer that you could manage.

“But would it be safe to say that you are under performing at Mercedes in comparison to your teammate?” The reporter asked. You tried to steal your expression and act like the comment didn’t bother you.

 “What kind of question is that?” It wasn’t you that asked it, but Lando, who was sitting to your right. You looked at him with some confusion. So did the reporter.

“Is there something you would like to add, Lando?”

“Yea. You can’t say she’s underperforming when she’s a rookie that has only completed five races.” Lando said, an upset expression clear on his face. The reporter cleared his throat.

 “I’m just saying, some have doubts that Mercedes were too hasty in signing an F2 rookie and I wanted to know if that was being reflected in (Y/N)’s driving.” The reporter said, trying to control the situation

 “I think we already know your opinion on Mercedes' decision based on the questions you ask.” Carlos said, who was sitting next to Lando. “I agree with Lando that it’s unfair to judge (Y/N) based on her first five races.”

 “I’d say she’s actually doing pretty good for a rookie, considering she’s been able to score points in two out of the 5 races she’s done so far.” Lando said.

 “Much more than you have ever done.” Carlos said to the reporter. You tried to hide the smile that was slowly forming on your face but inevitably failed as you picked your microphone back up.

“To my two fellow drivers points, I think you’re discounting me too early. I will admit that there is still a learning curve and with the continuous upgrades that Mercedes keeps bringing to the car, I am constantly having to adjust to all the new additions while also trying to get used to driving a Formula One car every other weekend.” You said, making direct eye contact with the reporter. “But I will eventually get used to the car. And when I do, I think I will be able to match George and possibly start out qualifying.”

That seemed to silence the reporter, as he sat back down. It also seemed to signify the end of the press conference as reporters started to pack their things and you and the other drivers sitting on the couch with you got up and left the room.

“Mate, I’m so proud of you and how you handled that reporter.” Lando said once you were out of the room. He placed his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug.

 “I was ready to walk out of the press conference when I heard that question. Why do these reporters always have to compare me to George?”

 “Because that's what they do. All of us get compared to our teammates because our teammates are seen as our biggest competition.” Carlos said. “You’re gonna get it more because you’re new.”

“Just remember that you can refuse to answer any questions that make you uncomfortable.” Lando said. 

 “Even the sexist ones?” You asked. Carlos and Lando nodded their heads.

“Especially the sexist ones.” Carlos said.

 “Better yet, I’ll answer them for you in the most ridiculous manner so that way they’ll stop asking you questions like that.” Lando said, making you laugh.

~~~

So many more races. Too many races. How does a Formula One driver get through all these races and have a chance to calm down? You were used to things going fast, but lately you just wanted a chance to slow down and breathe. 

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor in an empty VIP room, looking out the window at a mostly empty racetrack. Phone in hand. Staring at the clock that displayed the timezone back at home.

2:00AM. Your parents are definitely asleep right now. It’s not a good time to call them, no matter how much you want to. 

You were so focused on staring at your phone, you didn’t notice that Max had walked in.

“Sadly I don’t think drivers count as VIPs at the races they have to participate in.” Max said as he sat down next to you, a Redbull in his hand.

 “It’s the only place that I can find privacy and some peace and quiet.” You said still staring at your phone.

2:01AM.

You turned your phone off and let out a sigh, placing it down next to you.

 “Something the matter?” Max asked. You hesitated. You didn’t want to burden a 3-time World Champion with your upset thoughts, that was for your non-existent therapist. But then again, maybe talking to someone who has been in your position before may make you feel a bit better.

“I haven’t found a good time to call my parents since the start of the season.” You said. “They were able to make it to my first race, which was amazing. I was really glad they could come…but with so many races on the calendar, it’s hard for them to come to all of them, and all the changing time zones makes it hard to find a good time to call them.” You told him. “I miss talking to them.”

Max looked at you, took in how you were hugging your knees. Max sometimes forgets that you're now the youngest driver on the grid. On the track he sees you as competition, but now he sees you as the overwhelmed rookie that you looked like right now.

“I understand what you're feeling. It does get overwhelming a lot of times.” He said. You turned to him.

 “How do you deal with it?”

“No matter what country we are in, I try to find a day or time where I can get the farthest away from being a race car driver. A spot that’s farthest away from the track where I’m not “Max Verstappen, The Red Bull Driver”, but just “Max”.” He said.

 “Don’t you get recognized wherever you go?” You asked

“Absolutely. But being away from the track, even for an hour, makes me less overwhelmed. And in regards to wanting to talk to your parents, yes finding a time to communicate is hard, but sometimes you just have to throw timezones out the window and call your parents. Even if you can only talk to them for five minutes, it’s still five minutes that you get to talk to them.” Max explained. 

You thought about what Max said. It would make you feel a bit guilty, waking your parents up in the middle of the night just because you wanted to talk to them. But at the same time, sometimes they’re the only people that could make you feel better. You looked back down at your phone.

2:05 AM

You’d be ok with just five minutes.

 “I think I’m gonna call my parents.” You said to Max. He smiled and gave you a nod before standing up.

 “I’ll let you have your privacy. But my driver’s room is open if you want to talk about anything except racing.” Max said before leaving the room. You smiled at him before calling your parents.

~~~

Finally you had finished a race with what you thought was a good race result. P6 was your highest placement so far this season and it was something you should be proud of. But even if you thought it was a good result, you knew that people were going to comment that George had gotten P4, placing ahead of you again. To you, it felt like no matter how high you climbed up the grid, if George finished in front of you, your result wasn’t something to be proud of. 

You were knocked out of your thoughts by someone bumping your shoulder. It was Oscar walking alongside you. The fact that he was looking directly at you made you assume the bump was intentional to get your attention.

“Proud of you.” Oscar said. “This was just like that one season of Formula 2 we raced in together.”

You scoffed but smiled.

 “Yea, except I now have the knowledge not to shunt the car into the back of yours.” You said. You spent most of thid race chasing Oscar’s rear wing and were glad that you didn’t do what you had just said.

“That time was an accident. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” Oscar said. The two of you stopped walking as you got closer to where the podium interviews were taking place. The two of you watched as Charles was getting interviewed about his winning result. 

“So am I gonna see you up on that podium this season?” Oscar asked. You didn’t want to shake your head, but your body acted on instinct. You have been shaking your head a lot these days.

 “That seems unlikely. I haven’t been able to match George’s pace at all and he keeps out qualifying me.” You said. Oscar looked at you confused.

 “What are you on about? You were only 2 seconds off George and that was only because I was in between the two of you.” He said. You sighed.

“Yea but it was still 2 seconds behind George. It doesn’t matter how much time is between the two of us, if I’m behind him that’s all the media is going to care about.” You said. “I’ll never have the pace to pass him.”

“Hey!” Oscar grabbed your shoulders so that you would face him. “You have the pace. You’ve been building it up this whole season. At the start you were what? 10 seconds behind him? Now you’re two. Soon there’s going to be no gap because you’ll be ahead of him at some point. It’s bound to happen.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing down, or the fact that Oscar was saying something you had been wanting to hear from your race engineer, or your team princpal, or hell, even it’s something the media should be noticing: that you’re catching up and proving your pace. Oscar’s words were making you feel like you belonged on the grid.

 “You think so?” You asked, needing the confirmation. 

“I know so. Screw what everyone else says.” Oscar said. “Are you proud of your P6?”

 You looked back at your car, then at the car of your teammate’s before your eyes landed back at Charles. You’d be in his spot at some point this season, you just knew it.

 “Yea. I’m proud of myself.”

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on AO3

summary: Joel and reader finally make it back to the hotel & all that sexual tension is resolved. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv (very stupid, wrap it up kids), creampie, cunnilingus, face-sitting, (resolved) sexual tension, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasm (not really? kinda sorta?), smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair

Note: finally, the last part is here! I hope you’ll enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this. It’s one in the morning so forgive any typos — I wanted to post today. Thank you for the consistent love on this story, I really appreciate all your messages and comments <3

Joel positively drags you back to the hotel, one arm slung across your shoulder, your hastily packed bags in the other. He’s quiet, and you’re afraid that talking will break the spell, that he will hear your voice and remember who you are, and what he’s planning on doing to you. You’re nervous. Excited, yes, but nervous – you’ve been with people before, drunken hookups with collage boys who wanted to get off as quickly as possible. None of it felt like this, you didn’t want any of them as people. With them, it was about the sex itself, with Joel it is almost entirely about him.

Your thoughts are racing in your head, insecurities bubbling up inside of you, things that didn’t matter when you slept with those other people you barely knew – will Joel mind that you aren’t clean shaven? Does he expect you to be more experienced than you are? Are you even good in bed, or will he be underwhelmed, and secretly think you are pathetic?

You want this, more than you have wanted to be with someone maybe ever. But that want makes you vulnerable, strips you of any nonchalance you might have clung to if Joel was anyone else. He isn’t some collage boy who won’t remember you in the morning, he is your father’s best friend, for whom you are a more than controversial choice. Sleeping with you is a threat to his friendship with your father, and still, he’s ready to risk it, he pretty much told you as much. That gives it a level of importance you aren’t used to when it comes to sex.

When you reach the hotel, Joel hurries past the reception before the kind lady can stop you, and despite your nervousness, it amuses you. Joel presses the button to the elevator impatiently, making your stomach flutter. He’s so shameless in his desire for you, not embarrassed by this open display of wanting to get to his room as quickly as possible. You would have worried about looking needy, but not Joel. He’s secure, and solid, and unflinching.

The doors open, and as soon as you’re inside, Joel crowds you against the wall of the elevator, catching your lips in a kiss, before moving his mouth to your neck. You exhale shakily at the feeling of him sucking on your skin, the beard burn a surprisingly welcome sensation.

"They’ve got cameras," you breathe, a weak attempt at regaining some sort of dignity, while Joel quickly unravels you under his mouth and hands.

"Fine by me," he just answers, "Should ask them for a copy to take home with me."

Your knees threaten to buckle at those words, his admission that this isn’t just a holiday hookup, that he will want you just as much when you have left this paradise and returned to the world outside of your bubble.

"Careful, baby," he says, one hand holding you steady by the waist, his lips ghosting over your jawline.

Baby.

With a sudden ding!, the doors open again, and an elderly couple steps inside. Joel stops kissing you, but doesn’t step away, his hand still on your waist, his big body still close to yours. You offer the couple an awkward smile, and barely register the judgement in their eyes as their gazes flicker over Joel’s hair specked with white, because Joel’s hand starts moving again. He slips it under your shirt, no his shirt, rough fingers drawing featherlight patterns on your sensitive waist. His touch is teasing, clearly meant to get some sort of reaction out of you in front of these strangers. Joel’s getting off on this, you realize, on being seen with you, on people knowing just what he plans on doing once you’ve reached the third floor. You bite the inside of your cheek and do your best not to let show how you ache for him, how his gentle touches are affecting you. If you look at him, you know your resolve will crumble, so you pointedly look at a point over his shoulder, and try not to shudder.

As soon as the doors open again, you and Joel get moving, and a nervous chuckle escapes you when you meet his eye. His expression is hard to read – blatant desire, but also something more gentle, something that calms your nerves. It’s Joel. He didn’t leave you hanging when you needed to borrow a bike, didn’t make you feel stupid or guilty for it being stolen, and he won’t make you feel stupid now. That’s what you like the most about him, you think, as his hand ghosts over your back and he leads you towards his room, the way he makes you feel at ease. Whatever the opposite of shame is, that’s what Joel brings out in you.

You reach the door, and want to push it open, but Joel stops you, tilting your face towards him with a gentle touch.

"You don’t have to do this," he says seriously, "we can just go back to the beach. No hard feelings."

You appreciate his consideration, the way he seems to be aware of a certain kind of pressure or expectation his age creates for you, but the idea of going back now, when you’re so close to what you want, makes you want to weep.

"Getting cold feet?", you ask lightly, and he smiles at you, a fond smile, one that seems oddly out of place given the situation.

"I’m just sayin’, I get it if you changed your mind or something. I assume this isn’t the way you…usually do things."

"No," you say, holding his eye contact. "Usually they’re twenty-five years younger."

Joel’s face is a perfect mask, not sure what to make of your remark. You reach up, your hand gently touching his beard, and your eyes glide over the wrinkles around his eyes from years of laughter, the white in his hair, his warm irises.

"God…you’re so fucking sexy," you breathe, and there it is again, that color his cheeks only turn when you compliment him.

"I haven’t changed my mind, Joel," you say honestly, looking directly into his eyes. "Have you?"

"No."

His voice is deep, and he finally, finally opens the door, eyes still on yours.

As soon as Joel pulls you into the room, his lips are on yours again, your arms wrapping around his neck, as he walks you over towards the bed. He’s bigger than you, much bigger, and it only really occurs to you when your knees give out under you, and you land on the bed, sitting in front of him and gazing up.

He looks imposing, almost threatening, if it wasn’t for that expression he has on his face – something behind the desire. You feel safe in his hands, safe to give yourself over, not just in the physical sense. He looks so capable, so easy to trust. His hand comes up to your face, tilting your head up, and you move easily for him, letting him mold you in any way he wants.

"That couple," you begin as you watch him watch you, take you in, "they knew exactly what we were doing."

His hand travels over your throat, and although he doesn’t squeeze, it’s exhilarating to think how well it fits into his palm. You shudder as he pops open the first button of your shirt – his shirt.

"You liked it," you add, voice breathy as the tips of his fingers ghost over your collarbone.

His eyes snap up to yours, and you give a small smile, almost teasing.

"Didn’t hear you complainin’," he answers, holding your eye contact. "Think I should mark you up, so that the reception lady knows, too."

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, but you press your thighs together to relieve that terrible ache. Joel notices, and smirks almost imperceptibly, opening another button on your shirt. He’s taking his time, building tension by making you wait. He’s good at this, you think.

"But then she would stop calling you my Daddy," you breathe, trying hard not to close your eyes under Joel’s touch. Joel cocks an eyebrow, hands lingering on your shirt.

"Don’t tell me you enjoyed that, kid," he says, voice low, eyes intense. You flush, and wonder if he’ll kick you out now, if you have finally made things too weird to continue, but Joel keeps gazing at you, ever steady.

"Cat’s got your tongue?"

You swallow, and let out a shaky exhale. Joel pops open another button.

"That why you kept repeatin’ it to me? Cause it turned you on?"

He’s teasing you, dragging it out of you despite your embarrassment. He wants you to revel in just how debauched it is what the two of you are doing, and you get closer to giving in with every second. Joel’s fingers trace over the swell of your chest, finally visible now that he’s opened most of the buttons, and a weak sound escapes you.

"’S that it, baby?"

"Yes," you breathe finally, your cheeks burning. Joel’s answering smile seems oddly satisfied, as he opens the last button, lets the shirt glide over your shoulders and slump down on the bed in a little heap of linen. You swallow.

"Yes," he repeats, eyes trailing over your body. You wish he’d hurry up and get his hands on you, but with the way slick steadily leaks into your swimsuit, you can’t really complain. He sure knows how to play you like an instrument.

"Say it, then," he says curtly, a simple order, and you briefly close your eyes. It’s almost too good. His eyes are locked onto yours when you open them, expectant and blown wide with desire. He has stopped moving, and you realize he wants to hear you say it before he’ll go any further.

"I…I want to call you Daddy."

Your stomach curls up with need when you hear Joel groan, his resolve quickly crumbling, as he crashes his lips against yours again. He licks into your mouth with urgency, and it’s possessive in a way it wasn’t before, like he wants to claim your mouth. The thought makes you whimper, and Joel trails one hand over your side and down to the waistband of your swimsuit. You didn’t bother putting on your shorts again, just walked to the hotel in your bikini and shirt. His fingers slide under the thinnest part, right on your hip, and he lets it snap against your body. It doesn’t hurt, but the sound makes you groan.

His hands roam over your body relentlessly, squeezing, and tracing, and feeling the swell of your hips, the dip of your navel, your spine, your breasts. You almost don’t notice him undoing your swimsuit, until he slides off the top part, and runs one finger over your pebbled nipples. Your back arches and your hips twitch towards him, but he doesn’t give in yet, just teases the sensitive nubs while you whimper into his mouth.

Then he unties the little bows on your hips, and just like that you’re bare before him, your swimsuit coming undone with one tug of his fingers, while he’s still fully dressed. He’s disturbingly good at undressing you, something that used to be an obstacle to sex now a sensual part of it. You want to feel embarrassed at the amount of wetness between your legs, but when Joel’s fingers slide over your stomach and down to your throbbing core, he groans into your mouth.

"Jesus, you’re drippin’," he breathes against your lips, breaking away to watch his hand press circles into your clit. You try hard not to twitch under his gaze, his blazing eyes and skilled touch. Another whimper escapes you, as he keeps rubbing and watching your reaction, like he wants to take you in before continuing.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he gets you to the brink of an orgasm, but when your hips twitch towards him with little control, he stops, his eyes meeting yours again. You watch him lift his hand up to his mouth and suck his fingers clean, eyes not leaving yours. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever seen, the way he closes his eyes at the taste, and you wonder how you haven’t come yet.

"I’m gonna eat you out," he says, and it’s not a question. Immediately, insecurity floods your veins – you haven’t had someone do that before, and the men you have heard speak about it said they didn’t enjoy it.

"You don’t…I mean, you can just…", your voice trails off. Joel stops in his tracks, watching your face and cocking a brow.

"You ever been eaten out?"

"No," you say quietly, "and you don’t have to."

"I know I don’t have to," he says, and he sounds almost affronted, like he can’t believe you would think he didn’t enjoy it. "You want me to?"

"I just…know some people don’t enjoy it much," you mumble and look down. Joel’s hand comes up to your face, tipping your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

"I want you to come on my tongue," he says, "and then again on my fingers."

You almost whine at that, embarrassment seeping out of you easily, and Joel traces his thumb over your lips. You let it slip into your mouth and suck, swirling your tongue around it.

"Alright? You let me take care of you," he mumbles, eyes trained on his finger between your lips.

"Okay," you say, when his thumb slips from your mouth, and then quietly add "Daddy."

"Good girl," he answers, and a wave of heat rushes to your loins. It’s fucked, what you’re doing, completely fucked, but so good you think you might cry. You were scared thinking about it for too long would break the spell you two seem to be under, but the more you do, the more turned on you get. You have Joel Miller in front of you, calling you a good girl and about to make you orgasm multiple times.

"Lie back, baby," Joel says, and you do, sinking into the pillow that smells like him. Joel keeps watching you, and when he kneels down on the bed and gently spreads your legs with his hands, you think you might come from just that sight. But you hold on, because something about Joel wanting to eat you out, not even having taken off his own clothes, makes you curious. 

He kisses your ankle and trails his mouth upwards, over your inner thigh and your hipbone, until you almost tremble.

"Jesus, Joel," you mutter, hips twitching on the bed, trying to get closer to him without your permission. He looks up at you, pressing his thumb to your clit again, and you curse. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s so much, almost too much.

"That what you call me?"

He doesn’t let up, his touch so insistent, you wonder how he expects you to come up with a single word.

"S-sorry," you stutter, grinding against his hand. "Daddy."

It thrills you to use that word, to know it gets Joel off, enough that he chastises you for using his real name.

"That’s right," he answers, and finally he lets up, placing his big palm on your thigh instead. Then, he leans down, and presses his mouth to your clit, flicking his tongue over it. It’s unlike anything you have felt before, and you actively have to will your hips to stop twitching, afraid to somehow hurt Joel. But he notices, ever perceptive, and breaks away, his mouth and beard already covered in your wet.

"Get up," he says, and you feel your anxiety rise again, questions of what you could have done wrong. He waits, but raises his eyebrows.

"You wanna come, or not?"

So you sit up, confused, and watch as Joel lies down on his back.

"Straddle me," he orders, and you move towards his lap, but he shakes his head. "Over my face, come on, baby."

You stare at him. His expression softens when he sees your disbelief, and he gives you a smile.

"Told you I’d make you come on my tongue, didn’t I?"

"Yeah, but Joel, that’s…"

Your voice trails off. You aren’t sure what you want to say – dangerous? Really fucking hot? You’re still sitting by his side, when he strokes one hand over your thigh, a soothing touch.

"I don’t know where you get the idea from that I don’t enjoy eatin’ you out," he says, his voice almost stern, "but you get that right outta your pretty head. Now, will you do as I say and sit on your Daddy’s face?"

Your mind goes a little blank when Joel calls himself that, and you feel helpless to do anything but nod, give him what he really seems to want.

"Words, baby."

His hand trails up your thigh and over your stomach.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl," he answers, looking directly into your eyes, his strong hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, hoisting you up until you’re hovering over his face.

"If I need to breathe, I’ll tap your thigh, alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, quickly adding "Daddy".

Joel’s hands force your hips downward and although the sensation of his mouth under you is exactly what your throbbing clit was begging for, you’re tentative and unsure of what to do – you don’t want to hurt Joel. 

"Move, baby, make yourself feel good," you hear Joel say, voice muffled by your body. You rock your hips forward once, and let out a groan – your clit bumps into his nose, and you feel him lick into your folds. His hands grab your hips, and he starts rocking you against his face, setting the rhythm for you, and and you feel yourself leak onto his face and into his mouth, as you start moving along with him. His beard feels scratchy in the most delicious way, as he lets you fuck yourself on his mouth, his thick tongue darting out.

"Fuck," you moan, "Fuck J-Joel, Daddy, fuck!"

It’s a lot to take in, Joel Miller’s head between your thighs, lapping at you like he’s starving, like he can’t imagine anything better than having you sit on his face. His strong nose keeps nudging your clit, again and again, and your movements slowly becomes more confident, though also less controlled.

Joel’s hands keep encouraging you, and you’re closer than before, right at the brink of coming all over his face, when Joel groans into your dripping cunt. The vibrations send you over the edge, and you practically sit down on his face with all your weight, but he doesn’t stop you, just lets you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm and chant a mixture of his name and daddy.

You get off of him with shaky legs, afraid you suffocated him, but he smiles up at you, looking absolutely wrecked – his hair is tousled, beard and face drenched in your juices, jaw a little slack. He reaches up to cup your face, and you go with his touch easily, laying down next to him. He rolls over until he’s half on top of you, watching your red, panting face, and slants his mouth over yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his soaked beard against you, and although it should be impossible after just having come, you throb at the feeling.

"So good for me," Joel mutters against your mouth, and trails his hand downward, over your stomach and to your overstimulated clit. You twitch under his touch, your body unsure if it wants to get closer to Joel, or get away from him, and he chuckles.

"She spent?", he asks, his tone a little amused, when you squirm under him. "That’s okay, baby, I’ll give her a break."

Instead, he slides his fingers through your folds, gathering wetness, and finally pushing into you. Your body opens up for Joel more than willingly, and although the stretch is tight, it’s not nearly as painful as you’re used to, you’re too wet and relaxed for that. 

Joel watches your face, your fluttering eyelids, as he pumps two thick fingers in and out of you in shallow thrusts. You whine – you know you’re being vocal, too loud for a hotel room, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Joel curls his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your hips twitch upwards, and Joel smirks.

"There we go, baby, there we go," he mumbles, moving his fingers relentlessly, and already you can feel another orgasm building. He doesn’t let up, just lets you whine under him, thrash around, because his touch is almost too much, too good, too intense, but just right. 

"Give me another one, baby, come on," he coaxes, and you think your ears start ringing when his palm starts grinding into your clit with every movement of his hand, the tips of his fingers pressing hard against your insides. "You just let Daddy make you feel real good."

It feels like bursting apart, when you come again, some tight coil snapping and Joel practically wrenching the orgasm out of you with his relentless hand and dirty words.

"Daddy," you groan, your hand coming up to your face, as you bite down on your knuckle. Joel watches you with bright eyes, lets you tremble until he can tell it’s too much, and only then does he slip his fingers out of you. 

You’re weak, exhausted from the intensity of your pleasure, and Joel chuckles when you sigh, watching your glassy eyes.

"Okay if I fuck you now?"

You think you’d let him kill you, if he really wanted to.

"Yes," you breathe, "please."

He finally – finally – takes off his shirt, arms flexing, chest sprinkled in dark hair, his belly protruding over his trunks. You wish you had a camera, or a chisel so you could scratch his glorious body into a block of stone. He’s hard in all the right places, and soft in the rest, and with a jolt you realize you’re allowed to touch now, no longer confined to watching him swim from your deckchair.

"Jesus," you breathe, sliding one hand over his biceps, as he unties the band of his swimming trunks. You know you’re hindering him, but you can’t bring yourself to stop your hand from trailing over his chest, and down to his belly.

"Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot," you mutter when he slides the trunks over his hips. Then your mind goes a little blank, because finally his bulge isn’t confined to his trunks anymore, finally he’s naked in front of you, kicking his clothes onto the floor.

He’s big, just like the rest of him. Long, and thick, and uncut, and dripping in precum, the dark hair at the base of his cock a harsh contrast to the reddish skin. Joel closes his fist around himself, pumps twice, until you tentatively put your hand over his. His cock twitches, and you feel a little overwhelmed with power. Joel let’s go and lets you do the work, your hand much smaller than his. He looks even more imposing like this, as you move your hand up and down his length.

"Wanna suck it," you say suddenly, and you’re not entirely sure where the words come from, but you know they’re true – you want to get him into your mouth, feel him use your face the way you used his. Joel groans.

"God, you’re killin’ me," he answers, eyebrows furrowed, voice wrecked. You squeeze your hand a little tighter, just to hear him make his little sounds again.

"I’ll come if you do, baby, and I’m not sure I have two rounds in me," he says, regret lacing his voice, but his words make you clench around nothing – his age turns you on more than you thought possible.

„And I need to fuck you tonight,," he adds, and wraps his big palm around your wrist, so you stop moving it over his throbbing cock.

"So fuck me," you breathe instead, eyes wide and glued to his. You watch his expression change, something primal take over, and suddenly he’s on top of you, his hips pressing into yours.

"Again," he orders, almost growling.

"Please fuck me, Daddy," you whisper, your stomach clenching and unclenching in anticipation. Joel looks like he might come from just your words, but after a moment of collecting himself, he kisses you briefly.

"Alright, pretty girl, I’ll give it to you real good," he promises, and aligns his cock with your entrance. "You’re so goddamn fuckin’ wet, I can slide right in."

And he does, pushing his hips into yours. You feel the stretch of the thick tip, the widest point almost bordering on painful, and you bite your lip. Joel slides into you slowly, breathing into your mouth and making you feel everything. Then the tip is sheathed inside of you and Joel groans quietly.

"Grippin’ me so tight," he mutters, consistently pushing on, "halfway there, babygirl."

Your pussy flutters around him, clenches and unclenches, as he keeps going, and going. You feel full, and still Joel pushes on, until his hips are fully pressed into yours, and you feel him deeper inside of you than you have felt anything before.

"Breathe, baby," he reminds you, and you let out a shaky breath you didn’t notice you were holding. "Attagirl."

When he pulls out of you again, you make a raspy whining sound, your stomach clenching at the intense drag. Joel’s hands start trailing over your body, yours are gripping his shoulders.

"Look so pretty, all stretched out on my cock," Joel praises you, and God, the mouth on this man. If you weren’t so exhausted from the first two times he made you come, you would be trembling. You groan weakly, as he pushes back in, and starts moving at a quicker pace, setting a rhythm he likes. He punches into you with precision, angling his hips just right, and then he’s nudging against that spot inside of you.

"Ah…Daddy!"

"I’ve got you, sweet girl," he groans, moving both your wrists over your head, and pinning them down with one big hand – he easily engulfs you. You tug against him, testing his grip, and your hips twitch upward when you realize you can’t get out. He’s fully in control now, his cock nudging into you insistently, and you can only take it. You’ve never felt so cared for, as now, getting fucked raw by Joel Miller.

He doesn’t kiss you, but he keeps staring into your eyes, and it feels weirdly intimate. His movements become faster, more forceful, his belly nudging your body with every thrust. You whine, your body unable to do anything except for letting another orgasm build, one you didn’t think yourself capable of. The corners of Joel’s mouth twitch, when he feels you clench, and he fucks you harder.

"Daddy," you yelp at one particularly deep thrust, but Joel doesn’t let up – you don’t want him to. "Wanna come, p-please."

"You wait for my permission," Joel answers. Your belly feels like it’s on fire, tightly coiled with the need to just let go, but Joel wants you to wait, so you will wait. Anything, you think, anything. Joel’s jaw is slack, his brows furrowed, his free hand rough on your skin, but not unkind. You clench around him, and try your best to hold off coming, your eyes falling close.

"Eyes on me, kid," Joel orders, and despite your concentration, your eyes snap open. "Fuck, that’s it, my good girl."

My girl.

Joel fucks you like it, like you’re his. It’s possessive from beginning to end – the way he looked at you when you first wore his shirt, how he wouldn’t back away from you in the elevator. He plays your body like it’s his, dragging the pleasure out of you, and it makes your head spin. You can feel his thrusts go sloppy, can feel his restraint cracking, and your eyelids flutter a little.

"You want it inside, babygirl?"

You didn’t talk about that. You know you should say no. The head of his cock nudges your insides, and Joel’s free hand presses down on your stomach, feeling himself inside of you from the outside with every thrust.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please, Daddy, I w-want it."

Suddenly Joel is the one who has to close his eyes, as he keeps fucking into you.

"Fuck, you come for me first, baby," he groans, sliding his hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit. It’s too much, right on the brink of painful, and you thrash under him.

"I c-c-can’t Daddy, it’s…", your voice trails off, lost in the impact of his thrusts, but Joel keeps rubbing tight circles.

"Yeah, you can, baby, you know why?"

You don’t have it in you to answer, so you just stare into Joel’s eyes. You feel something wet on your cheek, and realize you must be crying, crying from how good you feel, how full.

"Cause I said so."

Your pussy throbs, clenches, and Joel moves his finger over your clit faster.

"Come for me, baby, I’ve got you," Joel drawls, and finally you do, your vision going white, your muscles going slack as you let Joel drag his cock in and out of you, the pleasure white-hot.

"Fuck, good girl, that’s my good girl," Joel groans, thrusting into you faster, until he presses into you harder than ever before, and you feel his thick cock twitch and throb against your cervix. Something hot bursts into you, and Joel keeps fucking into you for a couple more seconds, his eyes falling closed. Then, pulls out of you, your pussy fluttering, and he falls down next to you on the bed. You feel like jelly – you couldn’t move if you tried. Joel’s cum leaks out of you slowly, an odd, but pleasant sensation, and you sort of wish he would push it back into you.

After a couple of seconds, Joel pulls you against him, your face coming to rest against his broad chest, and he presses a kiss to your hair. You inhale his scent, and your spent muscles relax further, if possible.

"You did so good," Joel mutters, "so perfect."

His hands trail up your side and arms softly, a soothing contrast to the insistent way he fucked you. Your mind is pleasantly quiet, all caught up in his voice, his scent, his touch, his spent leaking out of you.

"Thank you," you sigh, and Joel chuckles. You smile weakly.

"Wanna get cleaned up, sweet girl?"

"No," you manage, "just wanna sleep."

Joel huffs a laugh, and tucks you more tightly against him.

"I’ll wake you before dinner."

***

When he does, the sun is already sinking. He trails kisses up and down your face – the softest way you’ve ever been dragged back to reality and out of a dream, and the first time you think reality is more fantastic than anything your sleeping brain could come up with.

"Mornin’, sleepyhead," Joel mumbles, catching your mouth in a kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly. You sigh into his mouth, when he pulls away.

"We should take a shower, baby, and you need a pill."

You open your eyes, a little confused.

"A pill?"

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, I’m not opposed to children, but I think your Dad might be," he says, and you snort weakly. Right, you think, the morning after pill.

"I’ve got an IUD, Joel, don’t worry."

He presses a kiss to your collarbone.

"Back to Joel, are we?"

You blush, and he laughs. It’s blissful, and a little unreal – Joel Miller, teasing you about the debauched, perfect sex you had not two hours ago.

"You prefer Daddy?"

"It’s…got a ring to it."

You can hear the smirk, even though your eyes are closed again, and you’re stretching your tired limbs. You yawn.

"How about room service?", you ask, Joel’s hand softly stroking the hair out of your face.

"Hmm," he mumbles, trailing one hand over your stomach, "or… we take a nice shower, you let me clean you, we have dinner with you lookin’ all fucked out, and everyone downstairs will know what we’ve been up to."

Your eyes open, and although you’re entirely, completely spent, your thighs clench together. Joel grins.

It’s quite the picture – Joel, with an arm around your shoulder ordering two cocktails, the redness on your skin from where he sucked too harshly or his beard burned you. You can see it in front of you, the same waiter as yesterday bringing your food, except this time, Joel lets you use his fork to try his meal, and instead of hurrying down to the beach afterwards, he’ll kiss you slow and long, just because he can, in front of every other guest in this hotel.

„Yeah…or that."

[ohmy-gojo]

ignoring him prank (nanami, modern!sukuna) ෆ

nanami

— you saw this prank idea on tiktok and had to try it on your beloved ken, deciding on not talking to him unless absolutely necessary all day tomorrow

— next day came, he woke you up with a kiss and greeted you good morning

— instinctively you were about to smooch his entire face with a "g'morningggg ken" but you remembered your prank and just nodded at him and got up

— confused baby but he thought that you were still sleepy

— but this behavior continued all throughout the breakfast too. normally you would sit on the kitchen counter chatting his ears off while he made breakfast, or praise his cooking skills while eating his food but today you were so silent :(

— he even tried to start conversations about some random news but all you said was "oh okay" and "mhm"

— finally decided to confront you before going to work, he cant have you being supposedly mad at him. communication is key! also bc he loved hearing you yapping

— when he finally asked if you were mad at him, you really really tried to maintain a straight face but ended up laughing 😭

— nanami immediately understood what you were up to and deadpanned

— "youre such a menace darling" "im sorry!!" youre still laughing btw

— he shook his head fondly and wrapped his arms around you, "silly girl, i should have known. now about my kiss from the morning-"

— too late. youre already all over his face

sukuna

— he was at the gym

— after finishing his workout, he checked his phone for any messages from you (you send him minutely updates, voice messages begging for gym pics and tiktoks)

— but today there were none

— he just shrugged his shoulders as if he dont gaf (he does, he's sad that you didnt send him any messages today)

— drived home a little faster that day (def not bc hes worried)

— he announced "im home", expected you to jump to his arms with a "welcome home kuna!!" while he tried to shove you off (read:pull you closer) bc he was sweaty like always

— but you were just sitting on the couch reading your stupid book, barely looking at him

— so he said "im home" once again with a louder volume. this time you nodded at him. hm progress

— even after many attempts at getting you to talk ( like 'forgetting' to take the towel so you would come and scold him, but you just left it by the door) he was unsuccessful

— you were still sitting in the damn couch reading your damned book while he was pacing in front of you wondering what he did wrong

— finally hes like "arghhh fuck this" and grabbed your shoulders, asking you what the heck is going on

— you were like "what do you mean😇"

— "why are you ignoring me?!?!" "i am not??🙂"

— after a heavy eye contact session with him you finally dropped your prank and softly laughed "sorry i was just prankin' you"

— his forehead popped a vein. "you little shi-"

— you shut him up with a "welcome home kuna!!" and wrapping your arms around him

— he huffed and puffed a lot but still pulled you closer and tighter

— but not before flicking your forehead and calling you a dumbass😭

note : i think megumi would be cute too with this prank :P he also gives silent bf x talkative gf vibes (this is one of my fav tropes everrr)