#luckily there were a few good photos of me after all

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[spicysourchimken]

Interesting reunions

Tim and Danny are twins, Danny was given up for adoption by the Drakes when he was a baby and Tim was never told he has a brother.

After a reveal gone bad, Danny, Jazz, Sam and Tucker became thieves after closing the portal. They mainly target supernatural or cursed items. Their target, a necklace, is being held in a museum with their in being a private event to show off the piece before it's sent back to its owner.

The heist would've gone well if Tim hadn't also been in attendance.

------

'Lmao and here I thought you didn't want to be here'

It was a text from Dick.

Not exactly the strangest thing to happen when Tim was forced to attend an event.

He'd been benched after a mission resulted in a minor concussion. He'd personally been planning on going over his paperwork for Wayne Enterprises, but apparently that wasn't 'rest', instead he was sent off to be bored out of his mind at some art function. He didn't have time to prepare notes or even do any real research. But he still had Dick who had apparently been dragged along as his babysitter (And was fortunately interested in the items on display)

They'd been texting throughout the night. Dick fed him enough information to be mildly interested in topics of conversation, and when that failed the strange history of the main display. An old necklace that supposedly was connected to a string of deaths and all around misfortune.

So no, the text wasn't strange, but what was, was the photo attached. It was a picture of a man, grinning and chatting amicably with a woman whom he could barely make out as the collection's curator. His hair was longer than Tim's, tied neatly back to be clear of his glasses and to give clear view of the man's face.

Tim's face.

There was a clone at the event.

'can u get me another pic?'

Tim was now significantly more interested. Tim could identify the room they were in, housing the main display and it was about two rooms over from where he was currently hiding out. He could get there easily enough.

Dick sent him a thumbs up before replying with another, distinctly more uncomfortable photo of the man. He smiled awkwardly and Tim could finally get a better look at his face. Tim's brows scrunched together. A lichtenburg scar stretched up from beneath his collar and trailed along his jaw and in the light the man's eyes almost looked green.

He ran the photo through his facial recognition software, getting at least a few pings on himself before finally landing on Jonas Spencer, private security currently assigned to shadow one Morgan Deveraux. His history was solid, highschool records, even a spotty criminal history (points where he'd almost been arrested for bar fights) before he'd joined up with his firm.

So. not a clone. Probably.

Tim would still need to check it out. He pushed past a dark haired woman and entered the main show room. Dick, luckily had kept him in conversation but Jonas looked flighty, his eyes always drifting back to his charge.

Then he caught sight of Tim.

He froze. Staring at Tim for a moment before he tapped his ear- and what Tim assumed to be a comm. He made a move for Morgan, leaving Dick in the dust.

The lights flickered. Jonas reached for Megan, his hand wrapping around hers. Tim could've sworn his eyes darted upwards. Then there was a complete blackout. There was a clatter as a vent grate fell to the floor, shouts arose from the attendees.

Then the lights flickered back to life.

Jonas and Morgan had vanished, and so did the necklace as well as three other paintings.

Good news, its not a clone. Bad news, he might have a twin brother who is in a gang of thieves.

--

Daniel Fenton, or as his ID currently stated 'Jonas Spencer', wouldn't exactly call himself a thief- personally he was more of a collector. Or a curator, whatever the hell you might call a guy who grabs haunted and or cursed objects and dumps them in an alternate dimension.

And it wasn't exactly like he was normally the one stealing things either! That was mostly Sam, he'd done for a bit when they'd first started up (pushing his hands through the glass and taking a necklace with him, or making a painting completely invisible as he whisked it away) but then Sam started calling it 'cheating' and claimed 'his technique was lacking' and promptly took over his position.

(He didn't exactly mind, using his powers too often made his skin crawl. He may not have the GIW constantly hunting him, but he'd had enough run ins to make him sweat. He also didn't want to think about his parents.)

So maybe their entire deal wasn't completely altruistic. When you've been on the run since seventeen and had decided that you, your best friends and your older sister are going to become international thieves, sometimes you have to steal things so that you can have an income. And sometimes stealing is fun.

Unluckily their current job wasn't recreational. They'd heard word of a haunted necklace, there was a string of bad luck connected to it. Mirrors shattering, injuries popping up only days after interacting with the piece, lights falling out from the ceiling. There'd also been a case of near death.

Very clearly the latest display piece was cursed meaning they needed to grab it before it was shipped back into it private collection in France. That meant a time crunch, meaning they wouldn't be fully prepared. It was fine- they'd stolen the dagger of Amon Ra when they had half a day to plan, so three should've been fine.

He and Jazz manned the floor, Jazz kept to grifting while Danny worked as support if things went sideways on any front. Jazz, currently wealthy socialite 'Morgan Devereaux', draped an arm around a politician as he guided her through the collection. Jazz shot him a glance telling him to stay back, keep monitoring the main floor with the necklace.

That was fine. He could do that. He approached the curator and complimented the piece, letting her tell him about the struggles she had getting it overseas let alone her conversations with the owner. Ok, so definitely cursed.

Danny felt eyes on his back, and from the corner of his eye he saw someone take a photo. Tall, dark hair and a bright smile.

Sam pointed out that it was a Wayne.

At that point Danny made an attempt to leave, if he was going to get into a fight we wasn't going to do it there. He'd be too close to the necklace for Sam to get in and grab it without attention being drawn to her too. But Grayson cornered him impressively fast. He asked Danny for a photo, claiming that he looked just like his brother. Danny relented.

Then Tucker chimed in that someone had ran his face. Fuck. Dick kept him in conversation but Danny was eyeing their escape roots. Sam warned that another was coming through the left entrance and that she'd already lifted his phone. Danny turned, preparing himself for confrontation.

Then Danny saw him, his doppelganger.

Grayson hadn't been lying. That thought was terrifying.

Danny sent two taps into his earpiece and made his way towards Jazz. They couldn't risk staying any longer. Danny didn't know if they'd been made or not but he wasn't taking chances. He nodded to Sam who went for the jewels as Tucker cut the lights. Jazz and Danny took a painting each.

Sam went for the vents and Danny and Jazz disappeared through the front door.

[natailiatulls07]

New wag in the paddock

Summary - Being the newest wag in the paddock can be quite daunting but with the right people around you, it's all okay

Warning - None <3

A/n - Slowly easing back into writing?? We'll see lol

-

Walking into the paddock with beyond nerve racking, with photographers just inside of the entrance and fans just outside of the entrance - I had no where to hide or breathe.

Luckily walking alongside me with Rebecca Donaldson, Carlos' partner. Because of our partners friendship, we were close friends. She had become someone who'd help me and become like a sister to me in the paddock and even beyond.

This morning particularly she had come over to mine and Landos suite to help me get ready for my first paddock day just after him and Carlos had left. Helping with picking out a gorgeous dress, helping with my makeup and also my hair. Like my own fairy godmother in a way.

'Wow there's a lot of people here...' I whisper in her direction, my eyes took in the busyness of a Sunday morning race day paddock. Next to me, I feel her laugh - She's used to this.

With a soft nod and a slip of an arm round my back, Rebecca is quick to reply. 'Yep it's a race day in Miami, you'll get used to it...' I feel her gently pushing me along, prompiting me not to run back out and go back to the safety of the hotel.

-

It wasn't long before she dropped me off at the McLaren hospitality. Wishing me good luck with a hug and a warm smile before I stand pathically watching her leave me to defend for myself - Almost like a child would whilst being dropped off for their first day of school. In a sense, it was exactly that; I had been dropped off and know expected to make friends until someone I knew would come and safe me.

I breathe in, turn on my heel and walk quietly into the McLaren hospitality. Inside it's modern and high tech, obviously very well thought out. There are multiple seating areas, some small groups accompanying a couple. I can smell fresh coffee as I walk over to a small sofa, sitting there anxiously.

Opening my phone, I can already see multiple notification from various social platforms. I hazard a guess that they are mostly all gossip sites tagging me in their posts.

But one notification stands out to me.

It's on instagram, informing me that I've been added to a groupchat. More specifically a groupchat for the f1 wags. My heart warms at their consideration and kindness, so this is what it feels like to be in a big friendship group of girls.

Soon a few messages start to load into the chat;

lilymhe - Heyyy Y/n! Welcome to the group, this is a safe space for you always xx

francisca.cgomes - Yeah all the girls are in this group so we all gossip, vent and help out in here! Girls support girls obv <3

carmenmmundt - Hi sweetheart!

kellypiquet - Literally if you need anything, send a quick message here and we'll help always x

alexandrasaintmleux - Babes I just saw the photos, you look STUNNING!!! <333

I don't even the big smile that forms on my lips, the feeling of acceptance heavy on my mind. Accidently I don't notice the person in front of me until I hear a soft cough. Looking up I recogise Lando trainer, Jon, stood waiting patiently with a small smile. I gasp at my oblivion. 'Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! You haven't been stood there long, gosh how oblivious can I get?' I nervously ramble.

I've only met him a hand full of times and to keep him waiting felt very rude of me. A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head, prompting me to breathe out a sigh of relief.

'No don't worry, I came to get you cause you're boyfriend wants to see you before the race starts...' He explains, watching as I quickly gather my things - I don't want to keep him waiting any longer. 'Hey, no need to rush...' He chuckles, sensing my nerves. It'd be hard not to.

Notable I slow down, no longer rushing to collect myself. I let out a soft sigh, a smile screwing itself onto my lips. And once I have everything, I let Jon lead the way through to Landos garage.

As soon as we walk into the garage, my eyes are immediately drawn to Lando who is stood talking to a few engineers. With his classic smile on his face, something I really do adore is watching as he talks about his job - He really does love it, possible more than me.

I stand there for a few seconds, not wanting to intrude on his conversation. Around me the team work around the garage, clearly buzzing with pre race excitement, nerves and preparation - Something Jon went along with when we arrived.

Then suddenly, I feel eyes on me and I notice Lando walking towards me enthusiastically. As soon as I am in arms reach, I feel his arms slip comfortably around my waist. 'Hi...' I smile, slipping my own arms around his neck. 'How are you doing?'

Lando takes a few seconds, just staring lovingly at me before smirking. 'Good, better now that you're here. How did this morning go? You and Rebecca get here alright?' He questioned, very grateful that I had someone to join this morning.

I nod keenly, moving on to explain about my morning as my hand start to play with some of his mullet. 'Oh I was added to the wag groupchat, they're all really nice people. They said that I can talk to them about anything and ask for advice you know. I've only really met Rebecca so they don't they even know me but they still like accept me, I thought that was the sweet thing ever...' Unintentionally I go onto ramble about the other wags befriending me, only really stopping when I notice his gaze and gentle warm smile. 'Sorry I'm rambling...'

Looking around us, I can see some engineers watching curiously. A mix of his gaze on me, my realization and the engineers watching all make me blush deeply. 'No it's okay...'

His british cuts through my thoughts, reassuring me. 'I'm really happy that you got them beside you, they know what you're going through a lot more than I will ever so that's great!' One of his hands moves up to caress my cheek lovingly.

A comfortable silence falls on us for a few seconds, before I speak up once again. 'So are you ready for the race today? Is the car good?' I ask, despite not really understanding the sport I'm desperate to learn through Lando.

He turns, watching as the engineers do their final preperations and work and nodding confidently. 'Yeah all good! I've got my good luck charm with me and the car is set to do magic today!' Even the way he explains everything, there is a lot of excitement in his voice. I nod, careful to take in all the information he's telling me.

Our conversation continues for a few more minutes before he's notified that he has to make a move to get the car out onto the track. Quick Lando turns back towards me, smiling and pulling me into a tender kiss. 'I love you! Wish me luck!'

I return the same energy and excitement. 'Good luck Lan! You've got this! I love you too!'

-

1.2K

[attapullman]

That's Mine | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: Bob likes Rooster. He does. So why does he suddenly hate him when his childhood best friend agrees to go out on a date with the pilot?

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: f!reader, 18+ ONLY as always, smut, protected pinv, oral (f receiving), praise!kink, fluff, dirty humour, alcohol mentions, sorry to all the Rooster girlies

Author's Note: This is my official jealous best friend!bob entry for my event International Bob Floyd Fucks Month. Thank you to everyone who has celebrated this silly little thing and continued the Bob Fucks agenda. I just love him so much. Save a Rooster, ride a Bob!

“What do you mean Rooster asked you out?” 

He’s hot on your heels through the house, following you out to where you’re watering the ferns on the deck. You can’t see his face, but the simmering annoyance is palpable. In your mind’s eye you can see the little vein that pops out only when he’s seriously irritated. An emotion he reserves only for you.

Who would have guessed that two strangers pairing up for a Mommy & Me class decades ago would evolve into the inseparable, eye-rolling, belly laughing attachment of you and your best friend. He keeps you focused, eyes on the prize and safely home by ten. You bring Robby out of his shell, actually wanting to jump in and join the crowd. Occasionally both giving each other a headache, but always ending with a punch on the shoulder while sharing a carton of Haagen Daas. 

You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. He’s being so annoying about this Rooster thing.

It’s been four months since you followed him out to San Diego. A quick summons to Top Gun that led to him out in the middle of the ocean while you whined to your roommate about what if he doesn’t come home this time? How could you possibly survive without him infodumping about WWI missiles and whether milk or dark chocolate made better cookies? 

And then you’d gotten the call,  B.O.B. flashing across the screen and the photo from that summer in high school where he let you paint a butterfly on his face. The mission was successful. He was safe. And he was staying in Fightertown permanently with this squadron. A few months later, when your roommate accidentally lit your stove on fire, he asked if you wanted to come down and stay for a few weeks. By the end of the month you had rented a small craftsman and his truck was a regular fixture outside.

Then a month ago, when he’d swung by after work, khaki uniform freshly pressed, and asked if you wanted to come to the local Navy bar to meet the names he spent so much time talking to you about. Fiddling with the edge of his glasses, nervous you wouldn’t like his new crew as well as the Lemoore squadron you’d spent years befriending. But if they were good enough for Bob, they were good enough for you.

Rooster was hot. All curly auburn hair and big brown eyes. You’d hit it off quickly, the two of you against Phoenix and Bob, sharing stories about your beloved bespectacled WSO and his sassy quip of the day. Phoenix still couldn’t believe that Bob had used a Superbad quote for the high school yearbook. You still remember the horrified look on his mom’s face.

But last night had been different. Phoenix and Bob had huddled a Budweiser cup of peanuts and discussed strategy most of the night, Fanboy rounding off the table once he heard “electronic warfare”. Your best friend’s dedication to work was commendable, but what were you supposed to do at a Navy bar when he was busy? Luckily the baby cow-eyed pilot had taken pity and bought you a round, taking you out to the back deck to appreciate the beach while Hangman rowdily dominated the pool table. 

Rooster had been sweet, asking about your childhood with Bob and what you thought of San Diego. Between the kind male attention and the slutty light wash jeans, you were only human for looking up at him through your lashes and flirting a little. And you felt light as air when Bob came outside ready to take you home, your number in Rooster’s phone and a date secured for Friday. 

“Seriously? You’re not going to answer me?” Why was annoying Robby so fun? So sweet and calm under the most pressured of situations, every once in a while he prickled. 

You finish with the deck plants and retreat back inside, making sure the windowsill babies are plenty hydrated in the late afternoon sun. “Why do you care? You like Rooster.”

It’s alarmingly loud in the silence as he thinks through that one.

Because Bob does like Rooster. He’s a little older, outgoing, the kind of guy he trusts on a life-or-death mission. In the last few months he would even venture to say they’d become more friends than coworkers, Natasha always bringing them together for a night out. So why did it bother him so much when you said you were going out with Rooster tomorrow night?

Instead of answering, he keeps his conflicted thoughts to himself and starts helping with the plants. There’s no point in an argument he’s not going to win, especially when he’s not sure what he’s even fighting for.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, metal frames glinting in the low afternoon light, gelled hair out of formation from training with his helmet on all day. Maybe you did overstep by agreeing to go out with one of his coworkers. “You want to get street tacos and make fun of C-list celebrities?” 

His eyes light up as he nods and overwaters your calathea.

Half a six pack of Mexican lager later and the two of you are sprawled across the living room furniture, Bob’s socked feet up on the coffee table and yours over the arm of the wingback he helped you haul home four years ago. Save the fuzzy tipsiness clouding your senses, you’re transported back to weekend nights in high school. Watching old John Hughes movies and laughing so hard soda shot up your nose. Life has been full of so many incredible opportunities, but evenings in front of the TV with Robby are your most cherished memories.

“Oh my god!” you squeal. “Could he be any more cringeworthy? Put a shirt on!” Your fingers cover your eyes, pretending to be offended by the young twentysomething currently stripping off on your trashy television show of choice. 

Bob laughs from his spot on the sofa, beer can dwarfed in that massive hand. “Oh please, you love when they’re half naked for no reason.” He feels that weird tug in his chest for the second time today, but chalks it up to the meat from his street tacos. 

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him that toothy smile you’ve perfected since elementary school. “Ya,” you slur a little. “But as my best friend you’re not allowed to judge.”

As if he could find fault in you.

Payback has been talking to him for the past twenty minutes. Bob hasn’t heard a word. Just continues staring at the front door of the Hard Deck like it will magically conjure you. 

You’re out with Rooster right now, at that restaurant with the breathtaking ocean view and spicy mozzarella sticks. And while you didn’t tell him, he knows you’re wearing the dress with the eyelet lace and your hair down for once. And you’re probably giving him that toothy grin while he talks about 80’s music and shows you photos of working on the Bronco. You’re likely planning your second date already.

He likes Rooster. He likes Rooster. He likes Rooster. So why does he suddenly hate him?

Payback has completely given up on conversation when the door opens and in strides that floral print smug son of a bitch. Bob’s hand grips the table, grounding himself that it’s not a hallucination. Rooster’s hand is respectfully on your waist, leading you through the throng of Friday night patrons. And you look pretty as can be in that dress, your hair slightly covering your warm cheeks and bashful eyes as a strong man looks after you. 

The pilot grins at his squadron, tipping his chin in greeting, knowing he’s got the prettiest girl in the room on his arm. You give Bob a goofy lopsided grin, happy to see him after a lovely night out. Happy that Rooster offered to drop you by before taking you home so you could see your best friend. 

There’s nervous energy bubbling under your skin, eager to download about your dinner and drinks, and you wish you were back at home in the kitchen, mugs of hot chocolate in your hands while you and Robby gabbed about your latest romantic excursions like back in the day.

Things were so much simpler when you were seventeen.

Especially because back then he wasn’t weird when you had crushes, or met someone on Hinge. And he certainly didn’t give you that tight lipped frown that you want to smooth off his face. It’s you and him against the world, so why does it suddenly feel like it’s you against him?

“Hey Robby,” you start, giving him your gentlest smile. “You win darts?” He gives a half shrug, picking at his cup of peanuts. Cool, that’s how he’s gonna play it.

You sit next to Rooster at the piano, letting him play a few songs and rally the crowd. You’re a little bored of the repertoire you’ve heard on repeat since your first Hard Deck visit, but give him an encouraging smile nonetheless to be polite. 

You like Rooster. But even after a nice night, you know you don’t want to pursue this. Not at the sake of your friendship with Bob.

Everyone’s stomping their feet and slapping their hands to Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” when exhaustion hits you. The back of your hand against your mouth signaling that you’ve had enough for one day. The sweet chocolate eyes of your piano partner give you a caring look as he asks if you want him to drive you home. The hope for a goodnight kiss twinkles in his eye.

“No need, I can take her!” It’s instant adrenaline the way the WSO has launched across the room. You rush to thank Rooster for a nice night as he’s left behind on the piano bench. Bob hasn’t said a single word to you all night and yet he’s borderline dragging you out to his truck. The calloused edges of his fingers digging into your bare arm, the soft flannel of his shirt brushing against your hands when he helps you into the truck. They’re all familiar feelings, yet tonight feels different.

He’s completely silent on the drive, the radio playing some alternative rock music barely audible over the silence. He may be quiet with others, happy to take a back seat, but he’s never had an issue piping up with you. It’s punishment. Punishment for trying to have a good time with a guy who you’ve decided you don’t want. 

When he parks in front of your cozy craftsman - the house he toured with you, helped you with the paperwork, bought the bubbly to commemorate the occasion - you’re both at a standstill. Last night you’d been able to put your differences aside for trashy television and tacos. Tonight…you’re just hoping he’ll come inside.

“Who do I gotta bang around here to get you to come inside?” His chuckle is weak, eyes looking anywhere but you.

Because while you’re trying to figure out where you’ve gone wrong, Bob has been having an existential crisis since Bradley fuckin’ Bradshaw put his hand on your waist. A crisis that’s been gaining speed since you followed him out to Lemoore all those years ago and has arrived at a screeching halt, crawling out of his throat. And he’s too shy to tell his lifelong best friend what’s been bothering him for as long as he’s known.

You’re…it. 

It’s the way you laugh with your entire face. How you always have a comeback. Your endless love for others. The endearing way you order a pancake for the table at brunch. You’ve been the entire package this whole time. And someone seeing it before him is infuriating.

He follows you inside, watching the way the light radiates at the high points of your face. This is going to be harder than expected.

Robert Floyd has known for years that his best friend is amazing. Practically his whole life. Not a single doubt they’d make an incredible partner. The tiniest crush forming at just how good of a partner. Daydreaming about their current arrangement - the movie nights, the early morning beach walks, the Sunday afternoon bubble tea runs - with a dash of domestic bliss had his heart thudding in his chest.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was Wednesday night, when he came to collect you for the drive home. Sitting next to Rooster, a cup of peanuts loosely hanging from your hand as you looked up at the pilot with long lashed eyes and a seductive twitch of a smile. The way you’d bitten your lip when you said goodbye, turning back to Robby with that flirty glint still in your eye; instantly resetting to friendly excitement as you followed him to the parking lot.

He needed to make you look at him like that.

And now here, in your living room, while you hand him a glass of water and look at him with those impossibly pretty eyes - fuck. How does he explain?

You’re concerned, watching the turmoil on his face and convinced you’ve seriously crossed a line this time. You’ve always been the troublemaker of the dynamic, the bursting bubbly energy to his impossibly sweet silence. Won’t he please share what’s on his mind?

He’s not sure if it’s the burning need to release this tension from his body, or the way your face looks so upset at his indecision, but suddenly the dam bursts. All rational thought out the window as he finally speaks up.

“If I don’t fuck you right now I think I might die.”

It’s impossible to tell whose eyes are wider. His in embarrassment that came out and so whiny. Yours in total shock. Your brain has blue screened and all you can do is blink slowly back into focus, centering on the pink cheeks and bashful baby blue eyes in front of you.

Licking your lips, you sputter out, “W-what?”

You both know you heard him. It was impossible not to with the intense neediness dripping out of every syllable. His carnal need to know what you feel like, taste like. The way those thick, long fingers of his tensed on his knee.

A thousand emotions pass behind your eyes, reflected in his glasses. A handful of ways to handle this situation, but only one makes sense. 

“Come over here. We can’t have you dying, now can we?”

There is nothing graceful about the collision of bodies that happens. Navy-trained strength meeting enthusiastic energy. He’s across the room before you can finish your sentence, the slight pause of uncertainty met with your bound into his arms. Warm lips finding each other, hesitant yet sure. The hands on your hips are familiar in a different circumstance. 

The waves crashing down on Bob’s brain slow, and he’s instantly soothed as he enjoys the subtle tang to your taste. You’ve worn the same perfume for the last decade, yet this is the first time it’s driven him wild. Pulling back, he takes a deep breath to fill his lungs with the perfect scent. His fingers, fast as light when he works controls, are slow and controlled over the curve of your waist. 

“I hate that Rooster touched you. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours?’

He leans forward, gaze level, breaths intermingling. “You’re mine.”

Eyes wide, glossy lip between your teeth…Bob hasn’t seen anything sexier in his life. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers scratching along his scalp as you fight for dominance in your kisses. He’s gaining confidence the longer you moan into his mouth, a sinful sound he wasn’t prepared to hear. Years of listening to you talk about dates and crushes, and now he’s experiencing it first hand.

You’re caught up in the way he’s trailing his large hands up and down your torso, tentatively brushing against the curve of your ass. Waiting for him to call the shots for what happens next. Frustrated he hasn’t already spread you out on the stupidly expensive cotton duvet he convinced you to buy.

“Robby?” He hums, lips preoccupied with your neck. “Not to be ungrateful, but I thought you were going to fuck me?”

The deep scarlet that spreads across your best friend’s cheeks is one for the record books. Jackpot.

He’s practically falling over himself, hands everywhere at once as he collects his thoughts. “You’re sure…you’re sure you want this?”

The seething jealousy that’s consumed him since Wednesday has dissipated, and the horny fog has lifted temporarily. All that’s left is ensuring you’re both on the same page. Once this happens, there’s no going back. As much as he’s looking forward to taking off that pretty dress, you need to be ready to make the same leap.

Swallowing a deep breath, drowning in those eager cerulean blues, you shift your thigh to press against the bulge in his jeans. A bulge all the girls in Lemoore talked about when they thought you weren’t listening. There’s a curiosity burning in you, a need to know if he’s just as sweet in bed as he is when he’s picking you up or helping with dinner. Things have always been platonic - they needed to be, you wouldn’t have survived a childhood crushing on the bespectacled sweetheart who grew up to be an incredible man.

You know the risks, but the rewards are greater. Life is too short to not experience fucking Robert Floyd.

A kiss to his lips. A wink. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

You sound like children giggling on the playground as you run down the hall to your bedroom, trying not to trip on the hall runner as he presses you against the wall to pepper you in scorching kisses. Breathy laughs as you explore this new part to your dynamic. Overwhelming lust mixed with lifelong companionship.

Once you make it to the bedroom - that supima bedspread underneath you, his hips cradled against yours - the innocent giggles dissipate as you take in the man above you. No longer the pink-cheeked child, the gawky teenager, Robby is nothing but height and strength and…broad? When did he get so broad? Naturally so meek and unassuming, the pure size of him is unexpected. But pinning you to the bed with those veiny hands and strong thighs, a collision of attraction overwhelms you.

There’s nothing delicate about the way he grinds his hips into yours, whimpers leaving both your lips. Your panties are soaked, he’s stretching the front of his jeans. Desperation fills the space between you.

His lips wander from your jaw, your neck, the space behind your ear, all the way to your passion-swollen lips. His voice is unsure, but hopeful, as he whispers against them, “Can I go down on you?”

Your eyes bloom wide - not only because you’d like nothing more, but you’ve remembered something from years ago. Something at the time you’d tried to forget. A night out with the Lemoore crew at that shoddy bar, everyone drunk after being out at sea for weeks, and you sat near the back waiting for Bob to come back with drinks. A small group of female aviators sat at the next table over, having clocked the shy WSO on his way to the bar. One had giggled, her friends shooting her a questioning glance. You’ll never forget when she replied, “I’d heard the rumors and didn’t believe them, but can confirm that Bob Floyd eats pussy like a starving man. Best hour of my life.”

As soon as he sees your slightly too eager nod, he’s working his way down your body, appreciating the feel of your dress and soft skin. Breath held as he officially breaches out of friend territory and lifts the hem, treating himself to the satin he can’t wait to pull aside. 

Lip worried between your teeth, a whimper is punched out of you when a hot mouth secures itself around your mound, thick tongue exploring the crevices of your covered folds. A finger slips itself along your entrance, bringing to attention the soaked material.

“Someone’s excited.” The lust-driven chuckle against your thigh has you shivering. “You want me to eat your sweet little pussy?”

He’s never used that voice on you, husky and mocking. You’re shaking with desire, for him to stop teasing and give you what you want. An hour ago he was just your friend, and now you’ve never felt so needy for a man’s touch. So far gone you don’t even notice the desperate nod you give him.

He presses another wet kiss to your clothed clit before wrapping his long fingers in the fabric. Prompting you to lift up slightly so he can have unimpeded access to this feast. Skimming his nose along your thighs, hot air directly on your slick cunt. The whimpers escaping you doing nothing but prolonging the teasing.

Bob can feel how you tremble, the way your fingers are smoothing over the bedspread in an effort to self-soothe. He’s satisfied that he’s gotten you as frustrated and ill-content as he’s felt for years. Needing something, not knowing if you’ll like it, but knowing that if you don’t have it you’ll never feel satisfied.

His fingers spread you out. Head dips. The lightest touch of his tongue to damp arousal.

Holy fuck. He does eat pussy like a starving man. Pushing his face in closer and closer, his tongue reaching for every inch of the promised land. His fingers wrapped around your thighs, pulling you in. Hot, wet muscle opening you up as he drools. 

Eyes unfocused, you’re in a new dimension and yet he’s enjoying it more. 

That deliciously fuzzy feeling starts to tingle in your stomach, pressure building between your thighs as your best friend helps himself. Blunt nails raking up and down your legs to ground you in the experience. The sharp edge of his metal frames occasionally snagging on the skin. They alone make you want to cry to the heavens. But it’s the way he’s sloppily forcing his tongue into your cunt, lewd noises ringing around the room, that has you clamping your lips shut to not wake all of San Diego.

He senses that you’re holding back, not giving him everything he wants. You’ve been best friends since day one, he knows when you not being authentic.

That delicious tongue withdraws from your thighs and you can feel his stare on you. Waiting patiently for you to make eye contact. The pussy drunk, yet concerned look he gives you as he nudges you. “It’s okay, it’s me. I’m never going to judge you.”

Blue eyes meet yours. The same blue eyes that have consistently seen you safely out the other side of any bad situation the two of you have faced. That always comes home from deployment so matter how much you worry. The same ones that you know will guide and protect you on this journey as well. He’s your best friend. No one else can keep you this safe.

After your nod, he dips his slick lips back to your core, his smile upon your skin. Quickly losing himself in your flavor as he nudges you back open. His own hips rocking against the mattress as you allow your bitten lips to part, moans and whimpers and sharp intakes of breath filling the air. Losing yourself in his over-and-above technique to bring you to the edge.

His own muted moans vibrate against your core. Dexterous tongue and calloused middle finger (followed quickly by another) sliding in and out with ease. It’s too much and not enough, overwhelming your senses and making your brain whirr. Skin slick with sweat as that fuzzy feeling in your stomach returns and your feet tingle. Your eyes gazing unfocused down at Robby, hopelessly turned on at his dedication to making you feel good.

“C’mon, be good for me.”

His muffled words stretch the string and bring you home, thighs clamping around his damp face as a scream escapes your throat. Fingers twisting in the bedspread. Back arching. The view has him slack jawed and starry eyed, fingers still pumping in and out to prolong your orgasm. A slight tilt of his lips into a smile at how content you are when he finally catches your gaze through labored breaths.

Your brain slowly comes back to you, thoughts racing through sludge. Eyes fixed on cerulean as a smile stretches your lips. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

He laughs, a surprised, carefree sound as he uses your thighs to help himself up the bed. Gives you a little wink as he grins, “It can get kind of boring on deployment.”

“Recon and intelligence protection missions are boring?”

“Yeah, when you’re not there to annoy me.” His dimples are out in full force, laughter twinkling out of every pore on his perfect face. You slug him a little, your orgasm still working its way through your body. The urge to roll over and sleep just as strong as the urge to shove him in your cunt through his jeans. 

You’ve had a taste and you need more.

He’s already one step ahead of you, shrugging the soft flannel and faded tshirt from his body. Gently cranes you in his arms as he helps unzip and lift your dress above your head. The garbled choking sound and intake of breath when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra makes you proud. You’ve always thought Bob was attractive in an understated, sweet way. To know he’s attracted to you makes any doubt about this situation indefinitely fade.

Sitting in front of him, not a scrap of fabric on you, you feel good. He’s the best guy you know, the one you have always sung his praises because there’s literally no one better. The only difference between a friendship and a relationship is sex. That’s all that’s been missing.

It’s time to take the plunge.

You swallow his lips with yours, fingers twisting in his sun-lightened hair. His arms wrapping around you, holding you secure to him. Both of you gasping at the feeling of your bare torsos touching. It’s electric. It’s satisfying. It’s grounding.

Hands quick to unzip his jeans, laughing as he tries to help only for you to bat him away. “You got to undress me, I want to undress you.”

The groan he emits reverberates. You’re so sexy and it’s driving him crazy. There was his fleeting crush in high school, but this…this is beyond his wildest dreams. Allowing your soft fingers to dip below the waist of his boxers, shimmying the denim and cotton down his legs. Your lips struck open in awe at the heavy, hard, thick appendage resting against his thigh. 

“You tell me every secret you have, and yet you keep the python in your pants to yourself?” He laughs, a hand wrapping around the base as you flounder to mentally combine Robby, your meek best friend, with the red-tipped joyride protruding from his pelvis. 

He helps himself to a condom from the box in the nightstand - the one you jokingly said you’d never use when he watched you unpack. You’re almost worried it’s going to be too small, but he glides it on with ease before lowering you both onto the bed, biceps straining as he adjusts. Bob can feel your slick center against the bottom of his dick and it’s taking everything in him to not make himself at home.

As you prepare yourself for what’s about to be a hell of a stretch, he kisses the top of your breasts, skimming his nose against your soft skin. Even in this moment his main priority is making you comfortable and feel safe. “We can go slow, it’s okay.”

But where Bob is safe and secure, you’re adventurous, curious. You want to know what he feels like now. 

The wild fire of your eyes bores into his calm ocean blue. “Where’s the fun in that?”

A shift of hips and he’s slipping through, arousal and spit gently gliding the tip of him in. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling on the Navy-approved length at the nape of his neck. A sharp tug that prompts a yelp as he drives his hips forward, slipping inch after inch into you. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you struggle to adjust. Fuck, he’s so big.

He’s kissing your temple, whispering how good you’re being for him. I know it hurts, you’re doing so well, almost there, baby. His thumb sliding between your bodies to rub pointed circles on your clit. He’s barely started and you’re already leaving your body, watching yourself be stuffed to the brim.

The neatly trimmed hairs of his pelvis poke along your clit and you’re proud of yourself for taking all of him. Nudging Bob softly to move because you’re uncomfortably full. Back arching into his strong chest as he explores parts of you that you didn’t know existed. 

In no time at all he’s thrusting with all his power, leaving you a moaning mess. Fingers clutching to any sweaty skin you can find, nails leaving their mark. He’s red-faced and huffing above you, eyes switching between your blissed out expression and the way your breasts sway with his heavy thrusts. This is heaven. This is everything. Why did he wait to say anything?

Suddenly you’re pawing at his chest, pushing him to roll over. “C’mon Floyd, let me rock your world now.”

He’s pretty sure you could blow him a kiss and rock his world, but he’s definitely not complaining about the view. The silhouette of you against the San Diego moon - big beaming smile and tight nipples. Wishes he had a camera to forever commemorate the first of many times you ask to ride him. A picture book of your perfect face all the way down to you split over his dick with different backgrounds.

From this angle it’s tight, but you’re not a quitter. Rocking your hips to loosen up, hands finding purchase on his chest. His big smile is back, eyes completely dilated while he can’t decide where to look. You’re seeing stars and he’s seeing diamonds. 

Once rhythm comes to you, you’re bouncing, loving the way he fills you to the hilt each time. His encouraging smile behind golden rims. You’re with someone who knows the real you, who encourages you to be your best self. And with his strong, veiny hands wrapped around your waist, helping along your movements, you know he’s…it.

It’s hard to tell where your moans end and his start, both of you polluting the air with inhales and groans mixed with the occasional squelch of sex. Your skin is shimmering, thighs begging for reprieve. You can’t get enough of the way he perfectly fills you every time. 

Sensing your exhaustion, he brings you closer, slotting his mouth over yours in a filthy, sloppy kiss. Starting to meet your thrusts as you inch closer and closer to your orgasm. Having to calm himself before he ruins your rhythm. The idea of you cumming on his cock has him dizzy. You rake your fingers through his hair one last time, eyes unable to meet as your lashes flutter, and he knows. You’re here, he’s gotten you to the edge.

That big hand on your lower back soothes as you clench for the final time, pulsing. You’ve officially left Earth, watching yourself convulse on top of Robby while he rocks himself up into you. “Good girl…yeah, that’s right…feels so good, huh?” 

Forget the best sex of your life, this orgasm can never be topped.

You’re half-heartedly pressing kisses to his forehead as he begin the descent to his own orgasm. Feet flat to the mattresses as he cants his hips up, desperate to drive every inch into you. The fluttering of your cunt the most amazing thing he’s ever felt, catapulting him over the edge quicker than any partner he’s had before. Shoving his face into your neck, licking at your salty skin, he knows his release is inevitable.

“C’mon Robby, cum for me.”

All reason leaves him and he bites down, lips securing over the delicate slope of your neck. A while light flashes behind his eyes and he’s filling up the condom, squeezing out every ounce of release. He suckles the skin, soothing himself as his spent body blinks back to life. Smiles sheepishly when he meets your eyes, as you smile at him sweetly.

Words don’t exist as you hold each other under the covers, tracing skin and giggling when the other finds a ticklish spot. At some point he disposes of the condom, but you’re still not fully there. Everything is good and special and you want to live in this moment forever.

When Bob strolls into the Hard Deck Saturday night, one arm looped around your waist, everything was right in his world.

His colleagues and friends sat in the back near the pool table, sipping beers and winning a game against another squadron. The two of you stroll up, looking decidedly more friendly than they’ve ever seen. Especially when Bob won’t let go of your waist and you keep touching him. 

You can’t help it. You’ve gotten a taste and now you’re insatiable.

The group takes in their WSO, standing a little taller than usual with his uncontrollable grin. And then they take in you, beaming, all smiles, looking right at home by Bob’s side in your tight jeans and cute little top. A cute little top that perfectly shows off the dark purpling mark mottling on your collar - teeth marks still visible in the right light.

While Robby confirms your drink order, there is stunned silence from the other half of the pool table. Mouths agape, a gleam of pride in Jake’s eye. Phoenix picks herself up first, eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden realization of last night’s events. Clocks that you went out with Rooster, yet went home with Floyd. 

“So, uh, what happened there?” She gestures to the obvious love bite. One that definitely wasn’t there when the group saw you last.

You bite your lip and look at your lifelong best friend. The guy who showed you his love last night…and then several more times this morning. His crinkled eyes drift from yours to the spot where he bit down as he came for you for the first time.

Turning to look at his squadron, he plays it cool and  shrugs, mumbling through his blush, “Can’t blame me for making sure no one else plays with my toys.”

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[mrsackermannx]

she misses me | ino takuma

tags: mdni, nsfw drabble, fem reader, phone sex, smut, not pet play but he calls her “puppy,” not beta read, boyfriend!ino!

Nanami groaned into his whisky. He had a feeling that this was a bad idea six months ago. Ino was all bright eyed as he gushed about the pretty girl he’d met at the mall.

But Nanami was weary, and wondered if things would work out, even after Ino told you about his real job.

Ino sighed before he took a large gulp of his beer, “She’s just…worried I’m cheating on her,” he said, delicately.

“Don’t worry. We check out in the morning and then we’ll be back in Tokyo by noon. You told her we were here on a mission, right?”

“Yeah,” he wistfully gazed out to the town they were in. He was missing you, a lot. He’d been out in the countryside with Nanami for five days and had barely had the chance to text you. He hadn’t been away from you for this long before, but he was admittedly nervous by how much it was unsettling him. It was scary.

“I like girls who are a little clingy though, you know? She’s not even overbearing either,” his voice trailed away. “it’s just that I’ve not been able to text her much. So she misses me.”

“I suppose that’s normal then.”

He grinned, “Buut…she misses me!”

“Then, she’ll have to get used to it,” Nanami said gently. “That it won’t be like dating a non-sorcerer.”

“Oh she will, she’s a tough girl. Takes everything life throws at her.”

He hmphed at the thought, all triumphant like he could imagine your face right now. It was always so full of determination, and when you looked at him, affection that ran so deep it brought him to his knees. Nanami couldn’t deny that he was happy to see his junior so smitten, so he promptly changed the subject and they continued their evening.

But it’s when you send a photo of yourself, lying on your front with an adorable pout for the camera, that it casts his mind back to the last time you were together. Not only because you had that same look in your eye, but because you sent a message just afterward that said.

“Your little puppy misses you.”

His cock throbbed in his jeans.

The last time you were together he’d used those same exact words…

You had both been both so tired it was laughable, but still you clung to each other in the dark comfort of his bedroom.

His arms supported his head, enough that he could lean up with minimal effort to meet your lips. He whistled and watched with his eyes half-lidded, as you eagerly tugged down your panties and then his waistband. You sank yourself down onto him until your bodies pressed together, kissing all over his throat.

He groaned at the sight of you, “Dirty girl with dirty thoughts, huh? Here I thought you were too tired to fuck.”

You laughed into his neck, lifting your hips up and down. “Changed my mind.”

You were already so breathless, your pants sending shivers down his spine. So his hands shifted to your ass where he suddenly halted your movements by sinking his hands into your soft skin.

By the grip, he fucked you on his cock with minimal effort, using his hands to control your hips as he rutted his own into yours. “Fuck.”

He was making you moan so loudly you had to cover your mouth.

“You’re like a needy little puppy. So, fucking, precious. You need me, huh?”

“Yes, Takuma! You feel so good.”

He moaned between each thrust, drilling up into you until your noises synced together. “I love it when you’re like this,” he groaned. “I’ll give you everything.”

His heart raced as he carefully slipped into his hotel room, Nanami was downstairs luckily, still drinking, so he could be as loud as he wanted.

He yanked down his pants, and took his cock into his hand. He gave it a few careful pumps before he took out his cock and took to FaceTiming you.

Heat rushed through your body when you were met with the sight of his large hand wrapped around the fat shaft of his dick. “Hey cutie,” he hummed, groaning as he squeezed his tip and pre oozed out.

“Is this what you wanted to see from me, huh? That you got me all worked up on the job.”

You hummed a shy hello, pointing the camera between your legs to where you had the dildo he’d bought you slick and lodged inside. “Sort of.”

His voice was strained and raspy as it pulled through the speaker of your phone, “Good girl. I didn’t even need to ask. You’re feeling needy, huh?”

“I know you liked it when I send videos but…” You rubbed on your clit and moaned, your fingers visibly slick as you pulled them away and started to thrust in the toy. “Had to show you.”

He laughed, smug and relaxed before he joined you, thumbing the tip of his dick. He shuddered from the pleasure, imagining your mouth. “So? How was the exam, pretty girl? Did you do your best?“

Ino was never shy with his moans, not ever. Your eyelids fluttered at the sight and the sounds. Wishing you could be with him right now more than ever.

You whimpered to yourself, syncing your movements with his. “Of course I did. You helped me study after all.”

He lowered his voice, flipping the camera to his face where he pointed at his tongue with a wink. “Gonna eat that pussy as soon as I’m home, cutie. Be ready to drown me in it.”

You moaned, removing the toy to show him all the slick that was dripping from you. ��Want you to fuck me, wish you were here,” you groaned. “So wet for you, Takumaa—“

“Imagine I am, baby. Put that deeper,” he cooed, jacking himself off tortuously slowly. “Imagine I’m inside.”

You flipped your camera to your face, pouting, “Aren’t you gonna finish with me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather I save my load for that sweet little pussy baby? Just you wait until I’m home.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smirk was full of mischief. “Is that right mister sorcerer?”

He grinned at the nickname, it wasn’t as if it was still as filled with disbelief. If anything it made him hard, your worlds were so separate but he didn’t care at all. He worshipped you.

“Oh yeah, I’m wrecking you as soon as I get home baby. I can’t just accept this slutty behaviour of yours, can I?”

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART SIX.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and chris hang out after what feels like forever, and he finds something personal of yours under the bed. because he’s nosy, he can’t help but open it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, that should be it :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,034

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: changing up some things…

(dividers by @strangergraphics)

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 disbelief, the nostalgia hitting him like a truck. nothing and he means nothing has changed about your house from when you guys were little. hell, there still was the wall by the doorway where it had your heights written in pencil. it faded throughout the years, but it’s still visible. his heart hurts when he realizes it stops at age ten.

the both of you talked as if you guys didn’t stop talking at all. “let’s chill out in my room.” you say, grabbing his hand and guiding him up the stairs.

although he was in here the other day, he didn’t get to really look around until now. your room captures you perfectly. you sigh, sitting down on the mattress that is filled with stuffed animals. you pat the spot next to you for him to take, and he does. “sorry if it’s messy.” you bite the inside of your mouth before speaking again. “now what? i was never a good host.”

“whatever you want to do.”

groaning, you get up and wipe your palms on your pants. “what i want to do is go pee. i’ll be right back.”

walking out of the room, you leave chris there alone. he rose himself off the bed and slowly walked around. he laughs to himself. he realized you became more comfortable with him again in the short hours you’ve been together, despite recent events. next to the closet door, there’s a bookshelf with a ton of books on it. the same bookshelf that was filled with dr. suess and harry potter. now, it’s filled with… interesting.

he leans down, reading the spines with furrowed brows. twisted games? the nanny? icebreaker?

stay curious for this one, chris.

next to the flatscreen TV on the wall, you have a lot of other stuff hanging up, one being your varsity award for volleyball. two pictures however stood out to him — besides the dinosaur with sunglasses painting you also have hung up. one of them is a polaroid of you and nate, recently took at the local fair. chris makes a face at that.

the other photo is of these two kids, roughly the age of seven. they look like twins; boy and girl. the rest of your family doesn’t live here, hence all of the pictures of them. because chris does nightly facebook searches to keep up, he noticed these are your cousin’s twins.

smiling softly, he thinks about how much you love your family. you’ve always been a family person, even if they aren’t here. he understands what that’s like. being in L.A. while everybody else is in boston sucks, but luckily they got a few months to be back home.

as he turns around to sit back down on the bed, he sees a notebook sticking out from under it. he doesn’t want to look through your belongings, but curiosity got the best of him. he bends over to pick it up and open it while lowering himself to sit down.

there is a note on the inside of the cover.

he skims through the pages to see how much you wrote and it is a good amount. he stops when the handwriting suddenly changes, meaning that you stopped writing for a while. the other entries had smudges on them except for the ones he landed on. this one must be new.

so, he started to read.

dear journal,

i’m sorry i ditched you for about a year and a half. i don't have an explanation for it, but lately, i’ve been itching to write. i remembered i had this journal - thanks to my cousin bethany for getting you for me for my 9th birthday. i know you’re an inanimate object, but i forgot how relaxing it is to write down my thoughts for nobody except myself.

i can’t help but cringe at what i wrote in the past, and i sincerely apologize.

“i can’t wait to marry kevin one day!”

“omg, he talked to me today!”

“i think we’re going to be together forever!”

i’m gagging just rethinking that moment. come on now.

anyway, life has been crazy lately. shoutout to the sturniolos for ditching me and acting like we didn’t grow up together! appreciate you guys for real. i’m exhausted.

the thing is, i always had trouble sleeping. i know i just said i’m exhausted, but it’s 3 AM and suddenly it feels like i’m wide awake. i just know i’m going to be grumpy for the next few days. a lot has happened ever since they left. i’ve changed, and i hate/love it at the same time.

i’ve been going out more, doing shit i shouldn’t. (don’t tell my parents…) something also happened a while ago that’s still a blur. i can’t put my finger on it. all i remember is that the police came to my door and asked me a ton of questions about somebody.

anyway, life has been happening too fast. i would appreciate it if it slows down a tad. on the upside, my mom said the rest of the family is coming here soon. i don’t know when, but soon. bethany would for sure be happy to hear i’ve started writing here again.

my thoughts are draining the second i write things on this paper, so i’m going to try and get sleep. i’ll update you whenever i can.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

me again: at approximately 4 AM. today has been something else, let me tell you. my mom came up to me yesterday and told me some unfortunate news. can you guess who’s back in town? if you guessed my lovely besties, you’re correct! and do you know whose birthday it is, meaning i have to go to the party? you’ve guessed it! my BFFs!

doesn’t help that i’m on my period right now. i can’t do this shit.

either way, i had to be there for nate. he’s the one that stuck around. marylou will forever be the original best friend in my opinion. she stuck around, too. it’s her children i got a bone to pick with. (except justin. he’s cool.)

seeing them in person for the first time in so long had me tweaking. i admit that i was a bitch to them at the party, and not to be a bitch now, but they deserved it. however, when i saw chris, my first thought was about how he’s such a cutie still. i hate my mind for that.

i tried to ignore them for the rest of the party, and it was semi-successful.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

you will not believe this. nick messaged me on instagram saying how sorry they were and asked to meet up at my house. for whatever reason, i said yes and they came over. we sort of cleared everything. key word, sort of.

they said they wanted me back in their life and apologized for what they did. i still need to give it time, but we do want to start hanging out again soon. i missed those dorks.

that’s until chris stopped me and asked for the note he wrote to me when we were little. the note he promised me to keep, and i obviously did. i’ll tape it here.

this little piece of paper is my favorite thing anybody ever gave to me.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

sorry, i left you hanging for a few days, a lot happened in such a short amount of time.

long story short, jaiden and claudia invited me to a party. chris texted me while i was there. he seemed a bit weirded out about why i was at finn yaw’s party, but i hope he knows i wasn’t there for any specific reason. i do appreciate that he cares about my well-being, even after the downfall.

i got home not long ago and he’s texting me as i’m writing this. he just asked me to hang out tomorrow which shocked me a little, but i said yes.

not going to lie, i’m excited to hang out with chris, even though i have no idea what we’re doing. hopefully, it goes well.

- y/n

chris snaps out of it as he hears you walking back into your room, making him shove the book back under the bed. he feels kind of honored to be a part of your little notebook. “sorry, that took longer than i wanted. i had to deal with something.” you say, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “why are you smiling like that?”

“smiling like what?”

“like… that,” you say, circling your finger that was pointing at his face.

“no reason.” he shrugs “anyway, what’s next on the y/n agenda?”

you look around the room while biting the inside of her cheek. “are you hungry? my dad made ribs last night and it’s to die for.”

jumping up from the bed, you motion him to follow you. you walk into the kitchen, flicking on the four light switches that are on the wall. you waltz over to the fridge and open it, going on your tippy toes to grab the container on the top shelf. “how many do you want?” you ask, going on your tippy toes once again to grab paper plates in the upper cabinet.

“three is fine. do you need help?”

you shake your head. “no, i got it.”

chris stands by the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room. he leans against it, watching you plop three ribs onto his plate and only one on yours. you take his plate in your hands and reach up to the microwave. you stick your tongue out and groan. you’re struggling because of how short you are since the microwave is on the wall above the oven.

“i got it.” he chuckles, grabbing the plate from your hand and sticking it in the microwave. his hand grazes the side of your arm as he puts in two minutes and presses start. you cross your arms without looking at him. “i could’ve gotten it.”

“yeah, right.”

sitting there for two minutes feels like ten before the microwave finally goes off. you start running to the microwave but he stops you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself by reaching for it. i got it.”

he takes the plate out and feels a rib with his finger. he nods. “it’s good.”

“okay.” you say with a low tone. he looks towards you to see you staring at your rib that still lies cold on the plate. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t think i want this anymore.” you quickly open the container, plop it back in, and stick it back in the fridge.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 sitting in your room, matt had to come pick his brother up. you and chris are currently standing on the front porch, having one last word with each other. matt is waiting in the van at the end of the stairs.

“it was nice hanging out with you again,” you say shyly. “we should get everybody back together soon.”

“i agree.” he smiles “i’m sure i’ll text you later.”

getting closer to him, you pull him into a hug. it was abrupt, but he hugged you back of course.

then, the horn of the van beeps causing you to jump and pull away. “can you hurry the fuck up? nick is waiting for us at home and is obnoxiously annoying. mom also made dinner.” matt screams from the window.

“i’ll see you around,” chris says, jogging down the stairs. he gets in the passenger seat and grabs the seat belt to strap himself in. matt waves to you, which you graciously return.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 them to get home. they live close to your house, and the duration is no longer than five minutes. he takes off his shoes at the door as his phone vibrates from getting a text.

y/n😶‍🌫️

thanks for today

i had fun :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws

[xxchumanixx]

I know it says requests closed, ok? But i'll leave this here until you take requests ❤️

also i looove your work sm

can you do one with tim bradford x fem!reader with a lot of angst, hurt to comfort something bad? like the reader gets hurt, kidnapped something very bad outside work.

the reader is lucy's best friend and tim's gf, maybe the reader being a rookie at the same time as lucy

and the reader gets in some trouble and it becomes progressively worse but she didn't say anything to anyone bc she's a cop and think she can handle it?

but in the end it's like really bad and tim is desperate looking for her, and his world crushes when he finds her?

something similar to 2x11 (that ep broke me into pieces and the scene with tim and lucy buried my heart right in hell) but his desperation is waay worse bc it's about the reader and he loves her

lots of love ❤️

Breaking Point

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: a lot of angst, hurt, mentions of blood, fluff

Word count: tba

Authors note: Hello love, omg it's been soo long I'm soooo sorry! This is not proofread yet, but I hope you'll like it! Love you!

Also, don't know if anyone else has that problem, but every time I make something fat or cursive, it changes the whole text after a few seconds. This happened after an update, and it's SO annoying!

OMG

Anyways, enjoy!

Listen, I know what you might think now.

Okay, maybe I don't. But to get captured and tortured wasn't your intention when this started.

Hell, of course it wasn't.

But you couldn't have predicted this either.

Neither could you have predicted how an encounter with a certain gangster would end - with you doing whatever he says.

At least he had the decency to only let you make his wrongdoings disappear.

It all went good.

That was, until one day you said no to him. It took him ten hours of his patience to kidnap and torture you, leave you for every cop to see what a shitty job you had done for this city.

And to your fellow colleagues.

You had only graded p2, together with Lucy and John. Lucy and you were best friends; it had instantly clicked once you started your training together.

You had been the first to know about her and John, had helped her through the heartbreak and all that had followed.

She, in turn, was the first to know about you and Tim.

You had started dating when you were still a rookie - luckily not his, or else it would have made everything a lot more complicated.

So, when everything seemed to go perfect, it had to come some shit along the way. It just couldn't have stayed perfect, could it?

This shit was named Luis El Ferno.

A wealthy son of an even wealthier mafia family that had a thing for speeding and collecting tickets. Along with other things that piled up in his file.

And as luck had it, he sought you out to be the perfect candidate for blackmailing. So when the first picture of your almost naked form landed in your mail, you had the shock of your life.

The photo was paired with a letter, saying if you didn't do as he said, he'd ruin your career. And not only that.

He'd ruin you completely.

So you complied, hoping to handle this on your own. Tim was clueless, as was the rest of them all.

Things soon took turns, though, getting worse the more time passed. Then, when he wanted you to do more than just cleaning up his mess, you said no.

You told yourself it was for the better.

You were a cop after all. You could handle this, right?

Big mistake.

When he found out he couldn't threaten you with the photos anymore, at least not enough for you to give in, he let his men kidnap you.

They punched you and used you as their personal boxing bag. They didn't stop when you were pleading, and they didn't stop when you fell silent.

They only stopped when there was nothing left to beat.

And when you closed your eyes, you had never been more grateful for the comfort of nothingness.

----

"You have to be kidding me!" Lucy laughed, leaning back on the sofa. "No way! Tell me you're lying!"

You laughed with her, shaking your head. "I wish I was." you said. "It was so embarrassing! For a moment, I thought he'd let me walk back to the station!"

She laughed louder, biting her lip.

"I would have loved to see that!" she said. "I can imagine the look on Tim's face so clearly!"

You shook your head, smiling. "Yeah, you should have seen the way he tried to keep his cool." you told her. "The poor lady excused herself so many times that her puke was already dry when she finally was in the car."

Lucy doubled over with laughter, the glass in her hand shaking threateningly. "Oh my god!" she breathed out, wiping at her eyes. "Damn, I need that body cam material!"

Eyes widening, you shook your head. "God, no!"

She laughed even more at your shocked expression, wiping at her eyes once more. Oh, she would somehow get that footage, she was sure of that.

It was a night with your bestie, a tradition that had developed early in your training as a rookie. You would sit together, drink cocktails, and do whatever you wanted.

Painting your nails, watching sappy movies, or simply talking.

It was something you never would have missed out on. So, when you didn't show up that day and Lucy didn't get a message from you saying that you wouldn't make it, either, she started to get worried.

She knew you better than most people did, so she knew something must be wrong. Calling Tim, her fingers danced over the rim of her glass, nerves piling up.

"Hey, do you know where Y/N is?" she asked when he picked up, not wasting any time.

Tim frowned on the other end of the line. "I thought she would be with you?" he gave back, eyes scanning the living room.

Your things weren't there, so you must have been on your way to Lucy, right?

"Well, she isn't here, and she didn't text me." Lucy responded, causing Tim's frown to deepen. You were reliable, you wouldn't just cancel plans without telling her.

Let alone disappear.

"I haven't heard from her since this morning." Tim admitted, biting his cheek. "I mean, we had an argument, but still, she would at least text."

Lucy sighed, nodding to herself.

"I'm worried, Tim." she admitted. "If she didn't text any of us, nor show up..." She bit down on her finger, trying to get rid of the horrible thoughts swarming her mind.

Tim swallowed heavily. He already felt guilty for not checking up on you earlier, and the fact that they didn't know where you were, made it even worse.

"I'm heading to the station." he decided, getting up with the phone still pressed to his ear. Lucy nodded on the other end. "Okay, I'll meet you there."

He knew better than to argue with her. She'd do anything for the people she loved.

----

"Okay, one last chance." he whispered into your ear, causing you to shiver in disgust. His breath reeked of whiskey, his shirt of cigarettes. "I really don't want to rearrange that pretty face of yours."

You swallowed heavily but didn't budge. He wouldn't get you to let a corpse disappear.

Never.

He tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly. "And here I thought we were friends." he mused, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You jerked your head away from him, glaring up at him. "We're not friends, Luis." you told him angrily. He scoffed, the back of his hand connecting with your cheek with a harsh slap.

Your head whipped to the side, skin aflame.

Tears pricked in your eyes, but your anger only intensified.

"Do you really think you're in command here?" he seethed, harshly grabbing your chin to make you look at him, fingers digging into your burning flesh. "Dont forget who you're dealing with!"

You spit in his face in response.

Another big mistake.

You really should have listened to your mother never to get involved with such people.

Mothers always were right, weren't they?

Luis face became progressively darker, turning redder. He roared, and his fist made contact with your gut, knocking the wind out of you.

So much for the gut feeling.

"Maybe I should teach you a lesson." Luis grumbled, shaking his hand. "You little slut are stepping out of line, and I really don't like that!"

You swallowed, knowing what this man was capable of doing.

Or let do.

He whistled, smirking at you. Two men entered the large room that could have worked as bouncers - ex-military if you'd had to guess.

Luis turned his attention to the men, speaking extra loud so you wouldn't miss his words.

"This little whore needs to be taught a lesson." he told them. "Or two. She's dancing out of line, and I can't have that. Vladimir-" he turned to one of them and your blood ran cold.

Russians.

"You said your wrist ached, right? Maybe a little punching will help?"

Vladimir, the bigger of the too, chuckled darkly. "When did it not?"

His knuckles cracked, and your eyes closed, silently praying Tim would find you before it was too late.

----

"I want every available cop in this station." Tim spoke as Grey entered the on call room. His brows knitted at Tim's words, clearing his throat.

"Bradford, what is going on?" he wanted to know, all eyes on them. "Y/N is missing." Tim explained, thumbs hooked into his waistband, so his fingers wouldn't fumble with everything they got hold of.

Grey's brows knitted further before he nodded. "Are you sure she's missing?" he asked. Tim nodded, eyes downcast. "Yes, sir."

Grey hummed, clearing his throat again. "Okay." he said, swallowing. "Where was she last seen?"

They started to form a plan, checking your last locations. Your phone hadn't been responsive yet, not being able to be tracked.

They were checking out possible locations on a map, as Tim's phone suddenly rang with a message, then another. He fished for his phone, hoping it was you.

His hopes were heard.

Without further checking the message, he clicked on it, mind working overtime.

Then, his blood ran cold, and everything suddenly came crashing to a halt.

The message consisted of a photo and a text.

A photo of you, battered and bruised, blood staining your body and clothes. They were torn, your head hanging low.

Under the photo, the message read: "Your officer, Y/N Y/L/N, has done a very shitty job. Only fair for her to pay the price for it."

Tim could feel all eyes on him, the room suddenly eerily silent. His fingers trembled, his whole body trembled.

He could hear Grey distantly, asking him what happened. He could feel his hand on his shoulder, turning him towards him, but everything seemed to be in a blur.

Grey's gaze fell to the phone, and his heart stopped. "Oh god." he mumbled, a lump forming in his throat.

Lucy stepped forward, heart hammering nervously in her chest. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. "What happened?" she wanted to know, repeating Grey's words.

Neither of them reacted for a second, glued to the spot, eyes on the phone. Moments later, it clattered to the floor as Tim stumbled backward. Lucy took the opportunity to grab it, turning the display towards her.

She wished she hadn't.

Her breath got stuck in her throat at what she saw. She read the text a few times, mind running haywire. Her hands shook, and she had to place the phone down, or otherwise it would have fallen for a second time.

They could only hope you weren't as dead as you looked.

----

It was ugly.

First you found it strange, then funny that they were counting the amount of times they punched you.

They must have been paid for punches.

After the tenth punch, you fell silent. You had pleaded for them to stop only moments earlier, as they took turns in punching and slapping you.

Neither of them cared for your feeble attempts. It only seemed to spur them on.

Every part of your body ached by now, your numb mind telling you to be grateful that they weren't doing other things to you.

It felt like you'd been hit by a truck numerous times.

You weeped as a blow to your stomach knocked any remaining air from your lungs.

That was all you could muster now.

A small weep.

Your head felt like it was wrapped in clouds, vision blurry, and slowly fading. Your hope of getting out of this alive withering by the second.

How were they supposed to find you? How should they track you when Luis took your phone, most likely destroying it?

A punch in your face made your head spin, as everything seemed to blur together, dark spots obscuring your vision further.

And as you thought all hope was lost, you slowly sank into the comfort of unconsciousness.

----

Time seemed to tick in slow motion.

Tim couldn't keep still, he had to move, trying to match his racing heart.

The fear he felt cut deep, like a knife. It bored its way into his heart, infecting it with its poison. He had only felt such fear twice before - once when his ex-wife left him overnight, and the second time when Lucy was buried alive.

But it didn't compare to the fear he felt now. It seemed tenfold.

Grey had to calm him multiple times, or else he would have stormed out there, searching every building for you.

He would have done everything for you.

After what felt like an eternity to Tim, they were able to track the location where the photo of you was taken.

The photo that was glued to the back of his eyelids, not letting him think of anything else.

He felt guilty, an ugly feeling that crept into his very being, infiltrating all of his nerves, his bones, and very fibers.

It was the worst feeling of them all.

He blamed himself - blamed himself for accusing you of having secrets eatlier that day.

That he was right he didn't know then.

But he'd seen your change in demeanor, the way you would pull away from him.

It hurt him so much that he caused an argument.

One he was deeply regretting now.

He had to remind himself to pay attention, to wait for the signal to enter the warehouse they located you in.

How cliché.

When Grey gave the signal, Tim's heart stumbled before it doubled its speed.

Time to move.

They walked forward in formation before splitting, getting ready to bust the door open and head inside, facing whatever might lurk behind the heavy metal door.

When the door was opened, he was the first to enter the large room, eyes quickly scanning his surroundings, gun drawn, as he flinched at the sight.

Tim believed his heart had stopped.

If he hadn't been standing upright, he'd thought he'd died - even though that could have changed any second, as he stumbled towards you.

He couldn't tell if you were still breathing, your body hanging limp in the chair in the middle of the warehouse. Your face was bruised - badly, blood wherever his eyes reached.

They stung, tears threatening to push through. But he did his best to keep himself together, even though the gasp Angela let out as she saw you, didn't make it any easier for him.

Falling down on his knees in front of you, he let his gun clatter to the floor, fingers carefully brushing away the hair that was stuck to your bloody face. With trembling fingers, he tried to feel for a pulse, heart stopping when he didn't immediately find one.

He could feel the others stare at him, waiting for an answer.

"Come on!" he mumbled to himself, feeling again as goosebumps covered his skin.

There - it was weak, but it was there.

"She's alive." he managed to get out, knowing that the ambulance was already on the way. Relief flooded him, even though it was short-lived.

You seemed like you would give out any moment.

Nyla walked behind you, carefully cutting the rope that was binding you to the chair - the only thing keeping you upright, as you fell forward and into Tim's arms.

His body shook, but he did his best to suppress it.

He had to be strong for the both of you now.

He cradled you in his arms, biting his lip until it bled, all to keep the tears at bay. Praying to whatever gods may be above to let you survive this.

Losing you would have been too much. It'd have destroyed him irrevocably.

He could hear sirens, swallowing against the lump in his throat that seemed to get bigger as time slowly passed.

He could feel the stares, knew they were asking themselves what you must have done to deserve this.

Hell, he asked himself the same question.

And, most importantly, who did this to you.

Whoever it was wouldn't get far once Tim would have his hands on them.

He barely noticed when the paramedics almost had to pry you from his hands, getting you ready for transport.

He was in the back of the ambulance even before they had carried you in.

His numb fingers dug into his pockets, catching onto something. They gripped hold of it, turning the small object over in his hand, thumb brushing over the velvet.

A ring.

He had meant to give it to you, having noticed how much you had seemed to like it when you first saw it.

Now he wondered if he'd ever have the chance to give it to you.

Once you were settled, they took off, the look on Lucy's face surely going to haunt him for weeks to come.

It mirrored his own emotions perfectly.

Fear, helplessness.

Something he didn't feel often.

----

Steady, rhythmic beating was what brought you back.

An awful sound, yet it was the proof of life.

Your body felt heavy, mind dizzy. Your mouth was dry and you were sure you must have died and went straight to hell.

Blinking your eyes open, they were met by dim light, stars shining on the other side of the big window.

You swallowed, trying to get rid of the dryness. As your eyes slowly took in your surroundings, landing on Tim whose head lay on your bed, sleeping peacefully, it all came crushing back.

Tears flooded your eyes, soon the dam breaking. They ran over your face in hot streaks, your bruised skin stinging.

Hands shaking, you brought one of it up to his head, softly brushing through his hair as a sob spilled over your lips.

What you had done was nowhere excusable. They would fire you once they knew what exactly you had done.

You were sure of it.

Tim stirred, disturbed in his sleep. His eyes blinked open, and once they fell on you, he was wide awake, sitting upright.

He scooted closer with his chair, hands gripping your own. Seeing you cry broke his heart.

"It's okay." he shooed, thumbs brushing over the back of your hands before he brought one up, carefully wiping at your tear streaked face. "It's okay, you're safe now."

Your head shook almost automatically, tears and sobs intensifying. "No." you croaked out, sight blurry, and his brows furrowed. "No, it's not okay."

Your head fell back into the cushion, biting your lip as you shook it again.

"What happened?" Tim voiced the question he'd asked himself so many times. "Who did this to you?"

At first, you didn't answer, gaze fixed on the ceiling. When he was about to ask again, your mouth slowly opened.

"I fucked up." you managed to get past your split lips. "I fucked everything up."

Tim had to swallow, doing his best to stay patient. Whatever you did must have been so bad, that it resulted in this.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. "Luis El Ferno." you said his name, blinking rapidly to will away another wave of tears.

The name vaguely rang a bell in Tim's head. He must have been someone they arrested before.

"After we arrested him a few months back, he-" you cut yourself off, fingers cramping around his. "He started to blackmail me with photos someone took of me... naked."

Tim's heart stuttered to a painful halt, eyes widening. Every single thought in his mind came to a stop as your words slowly sank in.

Blackmailed.

Photos of you.

Naked.

He swallowed heavily, that ugly feeling of guilt intensifying.

He should have noticed.

"He wanted me to erase things from his file." you continued, ripping him from his vile thoughts. "And when he asked of me to let a corpse disappear, I said no. Big mistake."

Despite the situation, you managed a humorless, dry laugh, but Tim wasn't in the mood for laughing.

No, he was far closer to breaking something.

Or someone.

"He let his guards 'teach me a lesson', as he said it. To show everyone what a shitty job I did. And he was right."

Tim's gaze snapped back to yours, having been glued to the blanket before. The chair made a nasty sound on the linoleum as he brought it ever closer.

Now he knew what you'd been hiding the past few months.

He would have done the same.

His head shook unbeknownst to him, and he wished he could take you into his arms, hold you close to shield you from all the horror in the world.

But you could barely move, your survival a sole miracle.

He brought your hand to his lips, unable to find the words to assure you everything would be fine.

He knew it wouldn't.

"I'm so sorry." you croaked out, biting your swollen lip as more tears fell. "I know I should have told you, but I was so scared. He said he'd end me if I told someone."

Tim swallowed again, bile rising in his throat at the thought.

Oh, how badly he wanted to have a chat with this man.

Though chat might not be the right word.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. Then his fingers dug into his pocket, taking out the small, velvety box.

He turned it over in his hand before slowly opening it, taking the ring out. It glittered in the dim light, reflecting it.

Your eyes widened at the sight, recognizing it. You had admired it through the jeweler's window, knowing you'd never buy it, because it was way too expensive.

Seeing it now, crushed your heart.

He bad bought it for you.

Tim wiped at his nose before he took your hand, slowly putting the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly.

Then his fingers encircled yours, holding them tight as he swallowed.

"We'll do this together." he said, looking up at you. "Whatever might come, we'll do it together. I'll fight Grey on it if need be, but you won't leave the LAPD."

Fresh tears gathered in your eyes, blurring your sight. The love you felt for this man was indescribable. And you could only hope you hadn't lost him with what you'd done.

"I love you." he spoke, licking his lip. It tasted salty, and he noticed that a tear of his own had managed to spill. "I promise you I'll be there whenever you need me. We can do this, whatever may come. You and I."

You sobbed, overwhelmed by his words. "I love you, too." you managed to say, not sure how you deserved him. "But I don't know how we'll do that."

He bit his lip, and for the first time since you had been missing, he smiled. It was a small one, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Let me handle that."

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @dhundhchrih @augustvandyne @rookietrek @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425

[riddlessecretss]

Train ride with Mattheo Riddle:

• You CANNOT tell me he would not bombard your phone with selfies.🤣

• Your passcode being his birthday>>

• Fucking him in front of his friends because you two don’t care.

Omg the way he looks in this photo is just majestic.

“Y/nn! Hurry up, I don’t know why you brought that suitcase for this year.”

“I’ve got a dorm to myself this year which means I’ve got more storage. And I’m going to use it.”

He chuckled and helped you with pulling the case up from the platform. “Thank you baby.” You thank him with a kiss on the cheek. You start looking for your assigned seats and get the window and middle seat. Opposite you is Theodore and opposite Mattheo is Tom. You guys lost Tom and Theodore a while back while you were smoking and flirting with Mattheo.

You have a seat but sit on Mattheo’s lap so you can cuddle. You are always tense about the train since your older brother left the school and doesn’t go on the tram anymore. But messing around with Mattheo makes it better.

Theo didn’t get enough sleep last night because he had girls over, of course. He fell asleep first so you decided to take a photo.💀

You and Mattheo couldn’t stop laughing at how mad he looked even when he slept. When you got to know Theo you would learn that he’s probably the sweetest Slytherin out there. But he doesn’t like to show it.

But you were too busy still laughing at him to realise Blaise and Enzo had been editing photos of Tom and Draco. You open your phone to the gc to see these.

Tom👺- That is not funny! Just you fucking wait tonight Lorenzo Berkshire.

Enzo🌺- I take it back!!

Tom👺- Too late.

You- BAHAHA🤣

Draco🌝- I CANTT

Blaise🏋️- Draco don’t think your safe💀

Mattheo❤️- Oh shit😭 the first one is baddd buddy.

Draco🌝- My father will hear about this!

You get tired after all the messing about with Mattheo so you decide to take a nap. Which results in another photo added in the gc.

Enzo🌺- Aww

Theo🇮🇹- And they laughed at me for sleeping!

You wake up from the smell of liquor and w33d. Mattheo passes you the joint. “Thank yo-“

“Any snacks for the remaining journey?”

For three years in a row you and Mattheo buy nearly everything and throw it around the carriage to share. You and Mattheo have taken upon yourselves to be the parents of the group whether your responsible or not is not important. You all get high as you arrive to school.

Dumbledore’s greeting speech is always a bore and you have to sit through all the new first years hat sorting ceremony. Mattheo has got his hand on your thigh the entire time.

“Can you stay quiet for me doll?” You nod as he slides his hand up and reaches under your skirt. You try and keep a straight face while Mattheo’s hand is on your pussy. He starts rubbing your clothed cunt and eventually speeds up. Before you get to cum Mattheo moves his hand away. Tease. You take a drink to help you cool down. His hand starts to creep back as the boys share a few sniggers in the new years crying over their hogwarts house.

His hand gets higher than before as he sneaks a finger in and curls up to hit your g-spot. A squeal leaves your mouth as you cover your mouth, luckily no-one heard. Mattheo adds two fingers as he adds, “You can be as loud as you want tonight.” You smirk as you remember your good luck tradition to make the room more welcoming is to fuck on the first night.

You squirm under his touch and it isn’t long until you cum in his hand. He hold eye contact as he licks his fingers.

“We have got a new student joining the 12th year!” Dumbledore announces as you all turn your head. The brunette walks up to the hat and already looks like fun, you wanna be her friend.

“SLYTHERIN!”🗣️🗣️

It’s late because I fell asleep. Enjoy and i will prolly make this a series. If I re log a post go and show them some love because these peoples works are impressive! Tyy for nearly 300 likes on a post! Navaiah💝

[multifandomgirl08]

Glass Houses - [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

Warning(s): Jos Verstappen (Being himself/an asshole), Mixed formatting (Story + Article), Max and Reader get into an argument about Reader going and meeting Jos, Max opens up to Reader about Jos, Max and Reader making up at the end

A/N: Although this chapter, like Stones To Throw, is pretty heavy in terms of topic. These were some of my favorites to write for this series. This is also the longest chapter of this whole series.

Words: 4k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on. You and Raymond never talked much without Max around.

Max was at Milton Keynes for testing this week before the season started again, Nico was at school for the day and the sitter was taking care of Nikita for the few hours that you would be out of the house. When you showed up at the restaurant, you saw Raymond talking to someone who was sitting across from him.

As you got closer to the table you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks. Raymond was sitting and talking with Max’s father. Who you had never formally met, or talked to at all. But you knew it was him, from the photos online to see the outline of the same man in your driveway 7 months ago. What was Raymond thinking inviting you to lunch with them?

You timidly walked up to the table before hearing Raymond speak, “Y/N,” He said with a slight nod.

“Hey Raymond,” You greeted him, letting your eyes sweep past Jos.

You didn’t want to look at him, mostly because of the stories that you had heard from Max and Victoria. Jos was a good grandfather to Victoria’s boys, but every time she brought it up with Max you could tell that he was getting angry about it. You always had to keep the peace between them when those conversations started.

Jos stood up from his chair reaching his hand out to take yours. You glanced at it and then at him. He was only slightly shorter than Max. Bigger in build from the fact that he wasn’t on an athletic diet like Max, who had to keep his weight down so he would be in top shape for when the season started in a few short weeks.

You didn’t want to shake his hand but did anyway. There had to be a reason as to why you were here. You just hoped it wasn’t to make a deal with the man who Max grew to despise as he grew up.

He gave you a half smile, and although it didn’t seem malicious you couldn’t help but slightly question it.

“Jos.” Max’s father said.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I know, my son’s wife.” He made a vague gesture towards you. “Where are my lovely grandsons, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You flinched internally at the word lovely. You loved the way Max said that word when he was complimenting you, or commenting on something that was going on. Hearing Max’s father say the same word and what followed after, made knots in your stomach start to form.

“I actually do.” You played with your wedding and engagement ring as you looked at him, not bothering to answer his question.

The more you looked at him, the more you could pick up the little parts of Max’s features that he got from Jos. His nose, his eyes, even though Max’s were a darker shade of blue. Max had a mix of Jos and Sophie’s hair. Luckily Max had gotten the majority of Sophie’s features.

“I was right, wasn’t I Ray?” Jos turned to Raymond. You could see his smile turn up a little more. “Max chose well.”

You had heard from Christian that Raymond and Jos were friends but never gave it much thought before now. You were sure that Max hadn’t told his father about the house, so Jos was keeping tabs on Max through Raymond.

“Is there a reason as to why I’m here?” If there wasn’t then you would like to go about the rest of your day. You still needed to get groceries before going and picking Nico up from school.

“I wanted to meet you,” Jos said before reaching for the glass that was in front of him. “Meet the woman who is going to help mold my grandson’s future in Formula 1.”

“You don’t know that, you have no idea if my son is going to keep karting.” You crossed your legs, your eyes traveling over Jos’ face trying to read into what he wasn’t saying.

“You’re son?” Jos mocked placing his glass back down onto the table.

“Yes.” You fired back. You didn’t need to hear this from him. Jos hadn’t been in Max’s life for a long time, and he had never even known Nico.

You watched as Jos’ shoulders went lax, sitting further back in his chair. His eyes studied you for a moment before he nodded.

“I’m surprised,” He crossed his arms.

“By?” You asked quizzically.

“My son finding someone… who can handle everything.” You wanted to question Jos. What did he mean by that? Everything? Did he mean Max’s career, his schedule, him being away all the time? Him having to raise a child by himself essentially for the first few years of Nico’s life?

You shook your head, “I don’t understand what you mean by everything. It’s not like my life is all that different. I’m married and I have 2 children. What’s so different about-?”

“I meant,” He said, cutting you off. “That you can love my grandson as if he’s your own.”

Your eyes hardened. Of course, you loved Nico as your own. How could you not? He was a sweet boy, who loved playing with his model cars, wanted to ride his bike around the driveway, and was always polite to those around him.

“There is no if, in that, it’s not as if he’s my own. That little boy is my son regardless of what you or other people might think.” You didn’t know Jos like Max did so you had no problem telling him how things were. “I can’t believe that you even thought it would be right to make Max give Nico up. Max is an amazing father to our children.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you felt bad for him. He would never get to see what a great dad Max was to the boys. He would just have to hear about it from other people.

Jos moved forward in his chair almost as if he wanted to lunge at you. You didn’t flinch or move away.

“You think that you have a right to tell me this.” He said defensively.

“I have every right,” You calmly replied. You weren’t going to elaborate. You didn’t need to.

You made sure to meet his eyes and could see the recognition in them. He knew deep down that you were right. But he would never admit it publicly or try to talk to Max about it. He had too much pride for that. He had raised Max to achieve everything that he did and now got to revel in it when anyone asked who pushed Max to succeed. It was like Jos fed off it.

“If you want to keep tabs on Max through Raymond, that is none of my business, but please respect that my husband doesn’t want you near our children.” You moved out of your chair pushing it in. Jos had moved his hands onto the armrest of the chair as if he were going to get up. “My children’s career, be it racing or otherwise, is none of your concern.”

You pushed up your hand to stop him from getting up from his chair. You didn’t want to be there. You should have just left when you saw that it was Jos here with Raymond.

You gave Jos one last look and you could see that whatever he was trying to accomplish by getting you here had failed. You collected your bag from the top of the table and walked away from them both.

You weren’t going to enjoy telling Max about this.

Five Days Later - Sunday

Wife of Formula 1 Driver, Max Verstappen, Y/N Verstappen seen abruptly leaving a restaurant just outside of Saint-Tropez

Anita Eriksson For DAILYMAIL.COM February 22, 2026

A few days ago one of our journalists was in Saint-Tropez and saw Y/N Verstappen, wife of 4 time World Champion Max Verstappen in a restaurant.

Verstappen's wife, Y/N was there for less than half an hour, and she was seen talking to who appeared to be Verstappen's father Jos, and his manager, Raymond Vermeulen. Over the years, people have started to notice that Jos Verstappen hasn't been present at F1 races and is never seen around the paddock anymore.

Rumors have spread that Verstappen banned his father, saying that he was too much of a distraction, making it hard for Max to compete. Verstappen's father was absent for all of Max's championship wins dating all the way back to his first in 2021. Just over a year after Verstappen's oldest son was born. Although, Jos being banned from the paddock has never been confirmed by Max or anyone from the Oracle Red Bull Racing Team.

From what the journalist saw, Y/N didn't seem all that happy to be sharing the same space with Jos. She sat down for a few minutes, didn't order anything, had what seemed to be a harsh conversation with him, and then collected her bag before getting into the navy blue Bentley Bentayga S 2026 that her husband bought her as a birthday present.

Jos Verstappen didn't look pleased after Y/N had left the table and was seen yelling at Vermeulen.

In December of last year, Y/N gave birth to Verstappen's second child, a boy named Nikita, named after racing legend Niki Lauda. Which they announced via. Y/N's Instagram. This is the first time that she has been seen out in public since the birth of her son.

One Day Later - Saint-Jean Cap Ferret

You had been in the kitchen making yourself something to eat after just having put Nikita down for his afternoon nap. Max had come storming into the room with his phone in hand, from the spare bedroom where his racing sim was set up.

"Did you have lunch with my father and Raymond while I was away last week?" 

You had stopped what you were doing and just looked at Max. You had never seen him so angry before. His expression was almost unreadable. You had only ever seen him look like this after something had gone wrong during a race.

You put down the knife that you were holding, "Yes." You started to say. You wouldn't really call the encounter that you had with Jos lunch, but to Max that would only be a minor detail. "Raymond called me and asked that I come meet him."

"You went, of course, without telling me." He stated, moving his hands a bit as he spoke.

You knew why Max was saying this. He didn't want Jos around you or Nico remembering how Max was after Jos had visited the house all those months ago. The following days after Max had been rather clingy with you and Nico, wanting to be around you as much as possible.

"I didn't know that Jos was going to be there." You hadn't but you should have assumed that it wouldn't just be a friendly lunch between you and Raymond either.

“You…” He started to say before he cut himself off. “You shouldn’t have gone. Not without me.”

“I don’t need you to protect me Max.” You had always been able to handle things by yourself, that hadn’t changed. 

Max walked closer to you, leaving his phone face up on the counter. It was unlocked to show a Daily Mail article, with a photo of you from last week. It was you leaving the restaurant before you had gotten back into your car to go home.

Max didn't walk any closer to you, keeping a fair distance between the two of you. You could see one of his hands slightly twitch as if he was going to reach out for you. He dropped his hand at his side and then ran it through his hair.

"Were the boys with you?" He asked. You watched as his eyes moved no doubt studying your face.

"No," You said with a sigh. You would never have taken the boys with you to meet Raymond alone. Maybe that's why you were so insistent that Sylvie stayed at the house with Nikita. Your instincts told you that it was better not to take Nikita with you. "Nico was at school and I left Nikita with Sylvie so I could go see Raymond," And your father, you thought. "And then went and got groceries before I went to pick up Nico once he got out of school for the day."

You knew better than to take Nico shopping with you, he would always put things in the shopping cart that you didn't need.

Max nodded but didn't say anything else to you. He walked out of the room, leaving his phone, not looking at you at all.

You picked it up and read through the article. There would no doubt be comments on Twitter about you with the hashtag #lionessverstappen. You had grown used to the moniker but never thought that your being protective over Max and the boys would lead to this type of reaction from Max.

You had never had to explain to Max why you did things throughout the entire time that you had been together. There had always been a reason and Max had understood that. Why couldn’t he understand this?

You didn’t follow Max out of the room because you knew if you did it would lead to both of you yelling at each other. So you just stayed in the kitchen and kept cooking. You finished making yourself food and then started the prep for dinner.

As you stared at the plate of food that you had made, you couldn’t help but push it away from you. You didn’t want to eat anything. You knew that you should since you were still breastfeeding but you couldn’t manage it. So you forgo eating and pull out your laptop to answer some work emails.

You glanced out into the backyard to see Max pacing back and forth while talking on the house phone, his hair in complete disarray from running his hand through it so many times.

As you looked at him, you wanted to tell him why you had gone to talk to Raymond.

Max didn’t talk about Jos unless he had to. He was always a sore subject. You thought that going and talking to Raymond would give you more insight into Max’s relationship with Jos. But after you had met Jos yourself, you were quick to realize that you should have waited for Max to talk to you about this when he was ready, even if he never would be.

After having only spent half an hour with Jos. You understood that Jos cared more for himself and the way he looked in the eyes of the media and F1 history than actually being a good parent/grandparent when it came down to it, or when it had anything to do with Max. He wanted people to view him as the person who helped mold a champion. It just happened to be that that Champion was his own flesh and blood.

The sound of the crackle from the baby monitor pulled you out of your thoughts. You left your computer open, rushing to Nikita’s room. Not noticing that Max had watched you leave before he sat down on the couch outside with his hands in his hair. The house phone now lying on the coffee table after he finished talking with the Red Bull team publicist.

You and Max hadn’t talked to each other all evening. Both of you paid attention to Nico at dinner and as you kept looking over at Max, there were only a few fleeting moments when you could feel him look at you.

This was the first time since you and Max had gotten married that you didn’t feel happy. After just a year of marriage, you had your first fight. Better now than later.

“I don’t want it to be like this.” He said after turning off the faucet in the kitchen after dinner.

You had sent Nico up to his room to finish his homework assignment, and Sylvie had taken Nikita to his room after his 7 pm feeding.

“Like what?”

“I don’t want you to keep things from me.”

“What do you want me to say, Max?” You asked in urnist. “I didn’t tell you that I saw your father. I didn’t want to tell you given what we ended up talking about.” Even if you wanted to justify it by saying that you only meant to talk to Raymond that wouldn’t help.

Max gave you a pensive look, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“I know.” He muttered before you saw his lips quiver. “What did he say?”

You shook your head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Tell me, please.” he pleaded. You shook your head not wanting to tell him before sighing.

“Something about helping mold Nico for Formula 1.” With those words, it was like you momentarily saw the color drain from Max’s face.

“He’s an asshole, and my father… and he-”

Max cut himself off with a sob. You moved closer to him, taking his face in your hands, holding his cheeks, and searching his eyes. Seeing the tears start to form, the storm brewing in the blues of his eyes.

You wanted to tell Max what Jos had said to you but thought it would be better for Max to get his thoughts out first.

“Jos had always pushed me to be the best when it comes to racing, and I, of course, let him because I thought it would make him proud of me.” He paused for a second as if he was trying to think of the right way to say something. “The only good thing he ever did for me was show me what it truly takes to be a father and love your children unconditionally.” He took in a sharp breath.

Max had pulled your hands away from his face. It was as if he needed the space to be able to get those final few thoughts out.

“There were always strings attached when it came to Jos being proud of me. If I wasn’t doing well, then he wasn’t proud of me. I know now, from the boys, that if you truly love your children, you put their interests first, always.”

That was why Max had such a hard time when Nico started karting. It was what Nico wanted at the time, and what he was still passionate about even now, but Max didn’t want to make Nico feel like, if he wasn’t doing well he wouldn’t be proud of him.

“I don’t want to feel as if he defines me, because I know that I’m nothing like him. But I can’t help it at times.” You didn’t want to keep telling Max that he was nothing like Jos. Being like Jos would always be Max’s biggest fear, and the only way that he would be able to get over it was for him to work through it. He would need you for that reassurance until the boys were old enough to be able to tell Max themselves that he had done the best that he could for them.

“I wanted to keep you away from him, so you wouldn’t see the parts of me that I get from him.” Max continued to say. “I can’t lose you, not when I’m grateful for all of the things that you have done for me, and our family.”

“You won’t lose me, I won’t let you.” You promised him.

Max was quick to drop his head afterward. “We don’t fight.”

It was true, you and Max didn’t have arguments. You weren’t those types of people.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t disagree on things in the future.” You said.

Max had held his hands out to you facing his palms out, inviting you to touch him. Offering himself up to you.

You moved closer to him, taking his hands in yours. “It matters that we worked it out.” He moved closer before resting his forehead against yours. “That we always find a solution, together.”

“We will.”

“I’m sorry, for getting upset with you.” He said.

“I’m sorry for not telling you that I went to lunch with Raymond and that Jos was there as well. I should have told you right after it happened.”

“It’s okay Schat,” Out of all of Max’s pet names for you that was the one he used the least. “I know you were only doing what you thought you needed to.”

“What did you say to him?” He asked muttering the words into your hair. Max was looking past you a little lost in thought.

You let out a small sigh, “I told him to respect that you don’t want him around the boys, and that Nico’s career wasn’t any of his concern.”

With those words, it put the conversation to rest. Max met your eyes, and you could see his shoulders relax.

Max pressed his lips to your forehead, and then your cheek. You let him hold you for a moment, running your fingers over his back as you felt his shoulders relax further. You slotted your head against his shoulder.

As you stood there in each other's arms the baby monitor crackled awake with the sound of Nikita fussing. You pulled back from Max before he stopped you.

“I’ll get him.” Max reached up and cupped your cheek before leaving you in the kitchen to calm him. You ended up pushing in the kitchen chairs that weren’t tucked under the counter. 

“Come, Nikita, come to Papa.” You heard over the baby monitor as you moved to sit in the living room. You could hear Nikita lightly fussing but it ended rather quickly.

You moved onto the couch taking the cashmere blanket that was hanging off the edge and laying it over your legs before you saw Max come back into the room with Nikita lying against his shoulder.

You didn’t move from your sport, instead you stayed there watching Max interact with the baby, as he gave him all of his attention. Nico had come into the living room, shoving the papers from his homework into his bag. He ended up climbing onto the couch before crawling over to you sitting in your lap, and laying his head on your shoulder.

Nico had gotten extra clingy with you now that Nikita was around. He wanted to always have your attention when he could even if you were trying to change Nikita’s diaper or make sure that Nikita wasn’t being fussy. It had taken a bit of time but eventually, Nico started to understand that you were paying more attention to Nikita because he was a baby, not because Nico had been replaced.

Max eventually joined you and Nico on the couch with Nikita tucked into his arms. You spend a little longer in the living room with them until Nico's head grew heavy against your shoulder after he fell asleep. You switch with Max, him taking Nico and putting him to bed and you taking Nikita, putting him in the bassinet that was in the master bedroom.

Eventuality both you and Max make it to bed, he can't seem to let you go once you’re under the covers sharing a few kisses before your eyes are too heavy to stay open. He pulled you flush against him, your head over his chest, his hands finding any bare skin that he could feel without the fabric of one of his shirts getting in his way.

“I love you.” You mutter into his chest. You need him to know that through every argument and all the time spent away from one another, you still love him and will always be there for him.

“Ik houd ook van jou, mijn leeuwin.” You can tell from the tone in Max’s voice that he’s almost asleep but not quite there yet. You feel one of his hands move out from under the shirt that you’re wearing before he reaches to take your hand in his. He kisses the back of your hand and then interlocks your fingers together placing it on the vacant part of his chest.

Translation:

Ik houd ook van jou - I love you too

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13

[usedpidemo]

Acquainted (Red Velvet Yeri)

(Thank you for the commission! I hope it's to your liking.)

You’re just about ready to head off to sleep when you check the group chat. This is your nightly tradition. These strangers, now your closest friends despite the anonymity, are active and in good spirits, as usual. Outside of your weekday 9-to-5, these few moments are the most interesting parts of your day, and you just so happen to join during a particularly lively conversation:

> [22:48:01] yerimiese: (posts a link to a red velvet album article)

> [22:48:14] flutter mane: :sanapog:

> [22:48:23] silksong sulker: k-pop is saved

> [22:48:33] wonyoung cockjuicer: ew red velvet

> [22:48:37] wonyoung cockjuicer: wonyoung can peg me tbh

> [22:48:39] irene’s tokki: Bae J:floshedjiggle::floshedjiggle:hyun

> [22:49:06] milf hunter: :floshed:

> [22:49:11] milf hunter: gape sugalo

So of course, you chime in as well.

> [22:50:12] You: lets get it, new rv fancams

You’re in no mood to chat for longer than five minutes, but before you head offline, you receive a private message from your closest friend:

> yerimiese: so when are you in korea again?

> You: Next week, why?

> yerimiese: nice. why don’t we meet up, that would be dope as fuck

> You: You’re in Korea? 

> yerimiese: yeaaaah? why wouldn’t i be? 

> You: I thought you’d be doing other schedules abroad

> yerimiese: nah sm definitely won’t fly us out to film an mv. cheap ass bastards ㅋㅋㅋ

Yerimiese then sends you a video link. It’s a Yeri fancam, her weapon of choice. Your conversations began with small, intimate talks about your personal life, soon transpiring into open fapping, degrading, and casual lewdness with each other. Despite the usually depraved nature of your messages, you both continued sharing snippets of your day to day lives. That’s how close you’ve grown as friends.

> You: Well i’m very tired, today was a long day at work, had to work overtime. No time to lewd, sorry

> yerimiese: it's alright. you did well today

Yerimiese sends you a pic this time. It’s an event; the internet can’t load any quicker. You’re hungry, impatient, dying. Whether it’s intentional or not, the photos she sends whenever you’re tired or stressed out are hotter than her usual swimsuit or photoshoot reel. You’ve shared enough about your daily routine to her that a camera crew might as well be recording you.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary; a simple candid pic of herself lying in bed, her face perfectly cropped out of the background, showing nothing but her body on full display in front of the huge mirror, dressed in skimpy black panties and a white shirt  that accentuates her shapely breasts. As usual, she’s not wearing a bra; you can clearly see her hard nipples demanding all of your attention.

> yerimiese: no need to send a dick pic tonight if you don’t feel like doing it 

You can’t help it. Tired as you are, you feel obligated to send her one. Luckily, every pic she sends is more than enough to make you instantly hard. It feels more guilty not to be turned on, rather. 

It’s a mostly quick and painless affair, powerful enough to put you out of commission within minutes. Even though you’re mentally checked out, Yerimiese’s sexy body is too hot not to crank one out. Taking a pic of your erect cock as you pump yourself to her is second nature; sending it on sticky fingers after you’ve spurted all over your phone and blankets is a different story. There’s no other way to put it, she was the perfect reprieve from the day’s exhaustions—a perfect high note to go out on.

> yerimiese: fuck you’re THROBBING THROBBING tonight :ningasm: your dick looks so damn nice. i can taste your cum through the screen

> You: Happy now? 

> yerimiese: more than, and then some. I wish you were here right now so you could feel how wet I am

> You: Just wait. I can’t wait to fuck you hard. Goodnight

> yerimiese: goodnight

> yerimiese: :tukkwithkiss:

—————

The next time you’re able to communicate with her, you’re one day away from being in Korea. In that period, you’ve been inactive in the group chat because work. What welcomes you back is a barrage of lewd photos and Yeri fancams.

> yerimiese: see you tomorrow :chuupeek:

It’s an open secret that you know she’s Kim Yerim. Yes, that Kim Yerim of Red Velvet fame. It was a giveaway right from the first explicit photo she sent you; those tits in a tight, petite package couldn’t have belonged to anyone other than hers. That, and the fact that her username is the same as her Instagram handle, and that she has a photo of herself in the group as a display pic. How she would end up stumbling into your private K-pop server objectifying her body and her profession is one of life’s biggest mysteries, yet here she is, giving you a very personal look into her shapely figure, better than any fancam and photoshoot could ever provide. To others, she’s merely a casual acquaintance, but to you, she can freely open up herself.

Mainly because you’re one of three people in the group chat that still cares about Red Velvet.

Her latest sent photo is relatively tame; a tight fitting white silk sundress, and the skirt is virtually nonexistent, her panties practically out in the open. Luckily for you, she seems to be sitting down, but not in her usual living room. The notion that this is what welcomes you to Korea, that you’ll be balls deep inside an idol’s pussy right when you land—it ruins you. 

Almost. 

An airport guard manages to break your deep train of thought. “Sir! No phones please,” he sternly commands, saving you from total disaster; you’re inches away from walking straight through a metal detector with your phone in hand, the belt around your pants, and some spare coins lying deep in your pocket after you bought some traditionally expensive bottled water. Luckily, no one manages to see the photo—and even if they did, she’s still smart enough to cut out her face, leaving nothing else to your imagination. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about immigration and airport security, it’s that there’s little need for repetition. You go through security four times. At the entrance, after the check-in counter, then within your departure gate, and even before boarding your flight—repetitive. It’s frustrating enough to tell Yerim, to which she responds with more lewd photos of herself. 

> yerimiese: yeah ive been there before ㅋㅋㅋ

> yerimiese: how long’s ur flight?

> You: About 13 hours

> yerimiese: cali?

> You: Yes

> yerimiese: kinda random, but seulgi misses los angeles

> You: How come? 

> yerimiese: something about an ex-boyfriend that i didn’t know about until the other day ㅋㅋㅋ i bet she’ll be jealous when she hears about you coming over just to clap my cheeks ㅋㅋㅋ she’d wish it was her bf instead of you

> You: does she know about this?

> yerimiese: of course not LOL i bet you’d rather fuck her instead of me, so she’ll never know. smh.

> You: That’s not true ur my RV bias since day one!

> yerimiese: stop lying LMAO i don’t blame you tho seulgi has some really toned legs and a nice slappable ass XD anyway, i’m gonna send you something to pass the time while ur onboard

> You: If it’s a masturbating clip i swear to god

> yerimiese: fuck you got me LOL

> You: Goddamit if anyone finds out on a plane of all places…

> yerimiese: i still can’t get over your clip of you jerking to me. i can taste your dick. you’re depriving me by leaving me out to dry for a week ㅋㅋㅋ

> You: You’ve been touching yourself to that clip for a week??

> yerimiese: can’t help myself, album prep has been tiring and i haven’t really found any opportunity to relax in the meantime

> You: I’ll be there soon, just wait a bit longer

> yerimiese: can’t trust me with that, i’m very close to making a huge mess of my hotel room ㅋㅋㅋ

> You: You’re in a hotel?

> yerimiese: just to meet you! I won’t be able to meet you at the airport (duh, idol dating shit), so this is the next best thing. just message me when you’ve landed here, okay?

> You: Sure

—————

It’s ingrained deep within Yerim’s mind. A core memory. If her phone could present count how many times she’s played the clip, it would be over a thousand. 

It’s very straightforward. A 45 second clip of someone masturbating between the sheets, pressing their erect cock against their phone with a brightened image of a scantily clad woman on the screen. But it’s not just any woman, it’s her. She’s pleasuring herself to the idea of a man jerking off to her. She’s following his rhythm, timing the pace her fingers rub her clit to the tempo of the man’s cock pumping to her zoomed-in breasts. 

And she’s mere minutes removed from a conversation with that exact same person.

Slumped against the hotel room walls, her bliss spirals out of control rapidly. Her legs are instinctively spread wide, juices already leaking through her panties and spilling to the floor; that’s how used they are to Yerim’s impulses to pleasure herself. In those brief moments, she imagines how the next few days play out, skipping past the formalities and pleasantries and going straight to the fucking. She moans and shouts as if that very man’s cock is penetrating her pussy hard at this very moment. Her other hand bashes the wall, tongue screaming streams of profanities, as if he’s manhandling her, using her to his personal delight.

“Fuck! Suck those fucking tits!” she screams, slipping one strap of her sundress down to pinch her own tit, enhancing the illusion. Her phone rings; in her mind it's functionally a vibrator. He’s come fully prepared, and she’s riding high knowing that this person is doing exactly what he said in their private messages from the very start.

Yerim drags her fingers along her clit violently, desperate to reach climax, the realization that this is her third orgasm of the day way beyond her. The evidence can be found everywhere: on the soiled bed sheets and in the smell of the shower; she envisions herself getting railed in those parts of the room, and then some—essentially turning the entire hotel room into the backdrop for all of the things he’d do to her: fingers around her throat, sunk into her ass, until it’s red and hurting, the way she’d quiver and cream all over his throbbing cock. Her neediness has no limits; it even breaks past her very own personal quarters, the loudness of her own self-induced pleasure drawing concern from occupants nearby.

Only after the blissful haze of orgasm does everything fall back in place. That repetitive knock on the door is a huge wake up call. Yerim’s eyes widen. 

“Shit.”

She checks her fingers—they’re coated in copious amounts of slick—and after a little further inspection, she realizes the aftermath.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

—————

Being honest about yourself, you couldn’t have asked to feel hornier at a worse time than this. Thirty thousand feet high up in the air, stuck in economy class because you don’t get paid enough to deal with the bullshit back in the office. Using your one of two allowed leaves in the year for a trip to see a girl you’ve mostly known online, and it isn’t even paid. To make things worse, there’s no layovers—just a point-to-point flight from San Francisco to Seoul. 13 hours.

And boy, is the ride absolutely miserable.

By what you might as well call divine intervention, you’re conveniently seated between a nun and a little girl—the two worst kinds of people to be alongside with. No, not because they’re annoying or anything like that; aside from the girl getting up every thirty minutes from her window seat to get something from her parents across the aisle, you’re practically barred access to your glorified archive of lewd Yerim pics. Opening them up with a kid barely in the first grade beside you is openly asking for trouble.

And the few times you get up for a lavatory break, you can’t get yourself going. There’s always someone at the door every five minutes. 

Eight hours deep into the flight, you look over your shoulder, catch one of the male flight attendants sneak inside one of the vacant lavatories with a fellow stewardess while everyone’s fast asleep. Fucking sickening. That should be you with Yerim right now.

When you arrive on the other side of the planet, you’ve gotten only a couple hours’ worth of sleep. You almost fumble your passport at immigration, getting them mixed up with a slew of business and membership cards. Then there’s your forgetfulness working against you, remembering you need some kind of pocket Wi-Fi, and now you have to spend a little more to get back online. It’s a mess, and it wasn’t that long since you were in Europe for a seminar, where these things were merely second nature to you.

At least you remembered that VPNs exist. You message Yerim on the taxi ride out of the airport, unsure of where to begin.

> You: Just got out of immigration

> yerimiese: fuckin finally! 

> yerimiese: you got a place to stay here?

> You: Not yet

> yerimiese: don’t bother, lemme send you my hotel address, you can stay here

Of course you don’t know Korean, despite the constant back and forth with Yerim for months. Learning’s been on the backend of your itinerary, and has never been your top priority, even now. You show the cab driver the address, who merely looks at you and the phone with a particularly vacant and dumbfounded expression, as if you’re stupid for not planning this out—which, in that regard, he’d be correct.

When you finally arrive at the hotel, only one message stands between you and finally meeting Yerimiese, once and for all.

> yerimiese: I’ll be at the poolside, third floor. can’t wait to meet you :P

And that’s exactly where you end up going. Forget that you’re lugging two whole bags and a traveler’s backpack on your shoulders; you drop them off at the front desk, expecting the staff to have a clue of what’s going on and what’s about to happen.

Stepping out into the poolside, it’s a completely barren sight. It’s three in the afternoon on a Tuesday; most people probably aren’t even booked, let alone in this supposed five-star hotel. You don’t really question whether she’s being serious or not, the evidence was in the previously sent photos; you’re dying to meet her at this point. 

And as if perfectly timed for dramatic effect, a woman emerges from beneath the waters, shaking off the wetness from her damp hair.

Yerim casually swims over the deep waters’ edge, without a care in the world, let alone your presence quietly shadowing over the large pool. Even halfway submerged, you can make out the outline of her shapely bust and hourglass figure, tightly hugged by a pink swimsuit. She was sultry and intoxicating to gawk at from candid photos, but seeing Yerimiese herself in the flesh, that’s when the realization hits you: this is happening.

And you can’t move a muscle, let alone react from the actualization that you’re right in front of her. Even as the waves of water splash on your new loafers, you simply observe. It’s creepy, it’s morally dubious, but it’s one in a million. You’re taking in every moment, every second; soak it all in, you’ll never get an experience like this ever again. 

You should be friends by now, if your definition of friendship means sharing explicit body photos and exchanging devious intentions about how you’ll fuck each other online or how much cum you’ve given to each other. But when she turns in your direction—catching you casually observing her, your hands tucked away in your coat’s pocket, grinning like a little kid— it’s back to square one.

Like the very first time.

Yerim takes all the time in the world to wade over from the other side of the pool, her smile growing closer as she approaches you. She lifts her eyebrows, expecting you to make a first move, to which you barely open your mouth, and ultimately only a deep breath, a stilted sigh, comes out.

Well, this is awkward.

Yerim giggles. You’ve previously heard her loud moans and cries, but a genuine laugh—this was your first. She never hops on calls in your group chat, most likely because idol shit, as she often refers to her line of work. Her laughter, her energetic expression—it’s as perfect of a translation to real life as it is online, and embodies the idol Yeri you know on screen. 

“How long have you been standing there?” she asks, trying—and failing—to suppress more of her laughter.

Your answer is concise, but doesn’t seem quite right. “A while.”

In reality, about five minutes. You probably won’t be there any longer when she props herself out of the water with her strong elbows. Water cascades down her shapely figure, thicker and meatier than it's ever been, more than what the cameras and pictures present. She’s truly the entire package, through and through. 

She walks over to her sunlounger, granting you a nice peek of her ass peeking through her skimpy swimsuit before she wraps herself with a towel. Apart from that, your only other notable observation is that she’s soaking wet, even bundled up. That, and also: she’s barefoot. No sign of slippers or any footwear—she willingly walked on what appears to be scorching cobbled floors.

“I would give you a big hug right now, but you know—” she comments, looking down at her drenched self, pool water endlessly dripping down to her feet. Even if she isn’t soaking wet, you’d still be frozen in place, or even worse, some eagle-eyed stranger or Dispatch reporter catch you in secret and you both end up on national news the very next day.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you say, trying to dodge Yerim’s eyes. “I left my stuff at the front desk. I should probably go and grab them.”

“Smart.” Yerim sizes you up, nodding in amazement at how you’ve managed to get yourself past the entrance. “See you upstairs, then? Room 1015.”

—————

The difference between you and Yerim couldn’t be any more obvious.

Granted, you’re fresh off a 13 hour flight, followed by an hour's travel from the airport to a five-star hotel in the heart of Seoul. Yerim had all the time in the world to prepare, and yet when she emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a modest bathrobe and her dark hair bundled up, she’s never looked better. 

Facing an idol in such a haggard condition, it gives you an underlying feeling of shame. And if you’re being completely honest, if not for your cock, she’d probably be repulsed and call security on you.

But there's no security in sight. Just you, just yeri, the two of you standing in this room - which is, for the most part, quite nice. Multiple bedrooms, a lovely view of the city beneath you, and all sorts of amenities and features you’ll never get to use—you half expect her members to come in later, but perhaps for your sake, you’re better off with just her and her alone.

When Yerim begins to talk, she rambles. She goes on about the status of the next album, discussions about a possible solo debut, her relationships with her members—conversations about topics that you never really had online. It was mostly dirty talk and lewd captions. At best, you knew each other at a surface level, but here she is, sharing everything from her heart like you’ve been lifelong friends since day one.

You let her. She’s as charismatic as what she portrays on screen, and her sass is no different than the private messages she sends you. There’s not a single dull moment whenever Yerim speaks. Though you know her mostly for her body, her personality is what has you sticking around.

You wonder if she feels the same way about you.

“So, how’d you find out about us?” Yerim asks, after blabbering for a while, and you genuinely believe she’d keep going till nightfall. Close enough. Five minutes away from five in the afternoon, and you’d already spent the last hour and a half listening to a personalized podcast from her. You hope she doesn’t notice the plate of bulgogi on the table now completely empty.

“Well, a friend was a K-pop fan and had an extra ticket when you toured here,” you say, casually, slumped on the sofa. “Forgot how long that was—” you pause, “five years ago?”

“Five years? Five years since we went to America?” Yerim appears flabbergasted, face in utter disbelief at the passage of time. The realization causes her to stand from her chair. You’d be too after listening to her drone on endlessly. “Fuck.”

“SM! Give us a fucking world tour already!” she screams, pretending she’s inside the company building and you’re an executive in the room. Watching her snarkiness come to life never ceases to amuse you. You’ll let her go on for as long as she needs to; she’s entertaining in such a unique and charming way that it disarms you.

“Argh, sorry, you know me.” She suddenly stops, faces you, arms crossed, mocking up a pout. “Look at me suddenly losing my shit for no good reason.”

“Are your members used to this?”

That didn’t come out right.

She bats an eyelid. On her face is a mild, blank look of displeasure. That didn’t come out right. 

“Used to what?”

“Well, uh, I—I mean—”

You gulp your throat.

“Stop.”

Then, an air of awkward silence. Her eyes quickly scan you, lazing on the sofa.

“Let’s just get to fucking each other right now.”

—————

It isn’t that you’ve forgotten the one purpose you’re there to begin with, it’s that Yerim is very, very impulsive. One moment, upset at her company for doing the bare minimum for her group and her career, the next she’s using you as an outlet to release her frustrations. It’s a good thing your first impression of her was that she was very busty, because otherwise, the other description you had of her was—simply put—bratty.

You’re on your back, plopped against one of the beds, completely caught off-guard by her show of strength. Eyes rolled to the back of your head, you find Yerim already at the bed’s edge, loosening the belt around her waist, quickly disrobing herself within seconds. It’s nothing new; you’ve seen glimpses of her nude figure in pictures, imagined many scenarios where you’ve got your hands on her, but this—to see her completely bare in the flesh—is new. 

This is different. 

“Just so you know,” you mutter, frantically panting, your heart jumping, as Yerim undresses in front of you, “I haven’t actually had sex before.”

Just like that, the mood instantly changes. She stops. Abruptly.

“What?” 

Her mouth drops—again. Might as well stay agape. 

You consider retracting your statement. It was a joke, you’d say, something to get her even more aroused, fired up. The sex would be wilder, hotter than anything your fantasies would conjure. Then again, you wouldn’t be in this exact situation if you weren’t so chronically online, simping over pop idols like a kid about to enter puberty.

“I guess that’s to be expected,” she comments, snarkily, grabbing the edges of your pants, daring to rip them off you. “That’s fucking life, baby!” 

If you were in her shoes, obsessively waiting for someone with equally unhinged horniness, expressing precisely how you’d get fucked every single time you’d send a remotely lewd photo, you’d feel just as disappointed. You can tell by her partially scornful expression: she’s been fantasizing this moment as much as you have, too. You can’t blame her, but you kind of expected her to anticipate this; after all, you connected in a private group chat that’s been sexualizing her, of all places. 

Surely the signs of virginity were right there.

“At least this is real,” she says, leaning her head forward while cupping your growing bulge poking through your trousers. Your tip, at full mast, mere inches away from her chin, instead of a little phone screen. She’s pushing you around, growing slightly more mischievous and uncontrollable with the prospect of throwing someone like you around instead of the opposite. Something her members may have taught and ingrained in her. 

It isn’t quite the picture you expected from all the erotic snapshots and clips she’s been sending you. Every photo and video, designed to rouse the filthiest and wildest of your thoughts, was an act, a ruse to let your guard down, to give you this fixed headcanon that you can toss her around like she’s your personal plaything and object of pleasure. Instead, she’s using you for her own desires and wants.

It’s not that you don’t want her to use you and fuck you like this, it’s how completely in control she is that has you reeling, leaves you in a dizzy spell.

“I was gonna let you use my pussy and fuck me to ruin,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes, teasing and mocking. Her hand grips around the denim of your bulge, and it fucking stings. You’re sucking on loose air. “But since we have a virgin over here, I’m gonna do whatever I want.”

The implied connotation is what terrifies you, and no, it isn’t the revelation that Yerim isn’t a virgin—you assumed that much—but the notion that you were gonna have free reign over her cunt that has you contemplating some deep, long forgotten life decisions that set you back years. Their consequences are now starting to show.

She releases her ironclad grip on your pants, frees you of your obstructive clothing, both trousers and boxers down to the floor. Your hard cock springs free, terribly aching, already red and sore from her suffocating clench, and already leaking bursts of precum. The last day and a half hasn’t been kind to your cock.

To add insult to injury, she makes this licking motion with her tongue, aimed at your tip, but relents at the last minute. It leaves your throbbing cock aching harder, without any point of relief. The teasing sight almost renders you unconscious, and sends Yerim into a laughing frenzy. 

“Remember when I said I could taste your cock?” she says, chuckling. It’s not playful in the slightest—quite the opposite, in fact. It’s sinister. “I’ll wait a little longer to taste it. Don’t worry.”

Not the most reassuring of words, especially when you’ve got your hands tied—at least, not yet. Actually, you appreciate that she isn’t going to milk your cock dry just yet; when you finally look past the situation at hand, you come to treasure her chest. Her shapely chest, freely bouncing while she bounces her thick body on your lap—keep doing that, you say inside your mind, letting your wandering gaze soak in the unreal scene. 

She notices your intrigued eyes, rising and falling in rhythm with her tits. Subtlety was never your intention, and she probably knows from experience, as she says she does. Fixated attention is how she gets herself off, based on how she seems to respond to the lewd messages you’ve sent her in the past, and it shows when she repeats some choice remarks back to your face:

“I’d kill my boss to fuck those tits right now, you’re so goddamn sexy.”

She grips a hand around your throat, another down to the buttons of your shirt, pulling them apart. 

“Let me be your personal titty towel.”

Halfway there.

“I’d suck on your tits first, go down on your delicious pussy, then fuck that wet hole of yours three times straight.”

Just like that, you’re both even. Equal in nakedness.

You’re unsure whether it’s the sight of Yerim asserting her dominance over you, tits all up in your face with a devious smirk as she bares you down to your essentials that’s leaving you short on air, or if it’s the hand cautiously coiled around your neck. Either option seems sensible enough. This is how she lives in your head rent free, just being her sassy, sexy self. Even repeating some of the same particularly questionable lewd things you’ve written to her sounds hot with her brazen tone. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she raises an eyebrow, leaning her head close, as if demanding an answer. 

Really, there’s no multiple choice here. Of course you nod.

She rolls her hips upward, inches her body across yours little by little, til her dripping pussy completely shadows your view. Her hand grabs the back of your head, meaty thighs pressing between your face. Now you’re truly suffocating. Even with the rather shameful admission, she rolls her crotch on your lips, expecting you to know what to do. No words, just the expectant grind of her crotch on your face, her wet folds opening up for you to take them.

Then, she begins moaning. 

Admittedly, the closest you’ve had to trying out oral is using your phone as an outlet for your tongue whenever she sends a boob photo. Thankfully, your inexperience doesn’t show when you first dip your tongue inside her folds, getting your first taste of pussy. Saltier than you expected, but fuck, you’d be lying if you think it wasn’t completely intoxicating—everything you hoped for, and more. 

It incites a few expressive reactions from Yerim—some loud, others quieter—with the end result usually a sharper, deeper grind of her waist on your face, splaying her cunt for you to devour. You’ve got one hand pressed on her ass, holding her plump flesh down while the other is at her mercy, pulled by hers, forced to squeeze her breast. You won’t complain. Not when her cries of pleasure motivate you to push yourself harder.

You repeat this addictive cycle, stretch moments into minutes, minutes into hours. Even when you’ve drained her completely, you’ll still be craving for more of her; that’s how hungry she’s made you. Your tongue meets her clit, and it draws out this especially sharp whine that she’s never hit once. Not on a track. Not anywhere. She swears up a storm, juxtaposed between soft, gentle pleas of “yes, more, and you’re so good.” 

In return, you take more of her, soak yourself in the continuous downpour of her slick juices freely flowing all over your mouth and tongue. As her pleasure escalates, her fingers tighten their grasp on your head, grab your tousled hair. You add soft, intimate kisses between streaks of licking her folds, and they send the young idol writhing, shaking atop you. Her words have been reduced to nothing but short, needy bursts of “please.” Even in this uncontrollable state, she gyrates her hips around you, rhythm steady, but more determined than ever to let herself go.

By the way her pussy throbs, you’re certain she’s a few critical points away from climax. It doesn’t change your plans, not one bit. You continue to lap at her sensitive folds, bask in her intoxicating heat, purposefully teasing her clit. She won’t demand that you end her —not this quickly, not when you’ve magically learned the art of giving oral to a woman under short notice.

You slowly work her through it. Your tongue dives into her slick entrance, deeper than it's ever been so far. The overpowering sensations send ripples that reach even the foundations of the bed, unlike anything it’s ever felt. Even in the wild throes of bodily pleasure, Yerim has enough willpower to stay in character, delivering a demand in her usual playful, fast talking tone. “Please do it! I’m going to cum!”

You contemplate the thought, completely drunk in her divine taste yourself, but you oblige. 

Your tongue sticks to her bud, and it causes this instantaneous, elaborate chain reaction. Yerim cries a sharp cry, waves of orgasm washing down all over her body. She stops in her tracks, completely rigid, mouth wide open, and this torrential gush of slick and orgasm swamps you, drowning you so deep that it's nearly fatal. Her thighs involuntarily clench tighter, too, and you’re temporarily trapped in your own pocket dimension, impossible to clean with all the cum left behind, especially on the sheets.

The most surprising observation from her orgasm is how suddenly calm it becomes. Only the sound of your tongue licking her clean can be heard, and it’s nothing but a gentle rustle. She hangs her head up, face completely flushed, catching needed oxygen in her lungs, letting the aftermath of her climax pass over. 

While her breath normalizes, she lifts herself up, moves to the side of the bed. In her wake, she’s left behind a drenched lake of slick around your face, leaking down to the muddled sheets beneath you. 

“Well,” she says, panting and pausing for air. “There goes the other bed.”

It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out what she meant. Even when you’re still mindlessly occupied by the sticky residue around your lips. You let out this muffled exhale, designed to be a laugh, but it backfires in your face. Amused, she giggles on your behalf.

“Not bad.” Yerim smiles at you. Charming and cute, a contrast to what had just transpired. “I thought you said you never had sex?”

It takes you a moment before you answer back, “I haven’t. You just taste really good.”

“You still have some left on the edges of your face,” she comments, her eyes mesmerized by how much she’s cum all over you. “Let me help you clean that up.”

And she helps, but not in a conventional way. She lifts you from the bed by your torso, then submerges you again, this time at the mercy of her bosom. You’ve got your arms wrapped around her waist while you’re kissing and sucking on her Yerim’s  tits, not exactly tidying up, but creating a larger mess that no amount of tongue cleaning can resolve. 

In the meantime, she whispers in your ear some of your more—questionable—comments:

“They need to give her a solo debut with a very sexy concept and trust me, I’ll be the guy who breaks the world record for jerking off if they do that.”

“It must feel heavy to carry them all the time. Let me lend a hand to you.”

“The only thought I had inside my mind when I saw her is every member would milk her 3x a day so that they don’t have to go outside and buy milk to eat cereal to the point they would just drink it from the source.”

You stop. You give her this strange, confused look. Even you couldn’t believe you said that.

“Did I actually say that?”

“Yes!” she replies, quick and straightforward, unable to hide her enthusiasm, while brushing your hair. “Not gonna lie, that sent me to the floor. I was laughing so hard, Irene ran in to check up on me!”

To make things worse, she flashes this wide, toothy grin that makes you regret your life choices. 

“God. I don’t wanna drink anymore.”

“Hey, if there’s any consolation, you wouldn’t be sucking on my tits and eating me out now if you never made that comment,” she says, caressing your chin and giving you a peck on the lips. As if it’s still not one of the most out of pocket comments you’ve ever made about anyone, let alone a celebrity—and you weren’t fully yourself.

“Relax. Don’t think about it too much.” Yerim pushes you back down to the bed, crawls atop you, meeting your lips again for an intimate kiss. Your hard cock, which has been left unattended for quite a while, captures your attention—and especially hers. “Lean back for me, will you?”

You comply. Involuntarily, your legs straighten, but Yerim pushes them apart, places herself at center view, seemingly ready to take you in her mouth. It makes sense; a woman with a mouth that runs like hers probably only stops when there’s cock stuffed inside them. The theory proves to be plausible when she gives your sensitive tip a delicate, yet dangerous lick, her eyes glinting at you with renewed vigor and lust.

“I told you I’d have a taste of that cock,” she says, half smug, half seductive, gloating with her brows. Your tenseness slightly recedes—until you realize your cock’s moving past her lips, in the direction of the space between her cleavage. “I didn’t say I wanted to suck on it.”

And she was right—not once has she ever expressed her desire to choke, gag, deepthroat on it. 

You grit your teeth, watching your cock disappear between her shapely tits, with Yerim personally making sure you comfortably fit like a glove. You fold. It’s snug. Hot. Breathtaking.

“Fuck, Yeri,” you mutter, closing your eyes as her inviting warmth leaves you weak in the knees, trembling. You don’t realize you’ve used her stage name over her real name. “God—”

“Does this feel like everything you wanted?” she asks, tone sultry and triumphant. A little slide up sends you into a frenzy.

You nod—even though there’s no other available options. The erotic image in front of you is permanently seared into your head: Kim Yerim, popular idol and to an extend, your ‘friend with benefits,’ grinning like a maniac, slowly fucking your cock between her tits, coated with your saliva, sweat, and copious amounts of precum. To think your little crude messages on a random forum would have such long term and drastic consequences such as this.

Not that you’d want to make sense of it all, especially when she gets into a rhythm. Sliding her breasts up and down, she’s delicate, intentional, and masochistic; you’re on the receiving end of how she felt when you were slowly eating her out. She’s dangerous, teetering between the line where your cock can be safe between her bosom and where she can break you in half. You’re already falling apart—and fast.

“Holy shit, Yerim. Fuck.” 

Each word you deliver is long and drawn out, especially the profanities. Heavenly music to her ears. She’s out of reach where you can pull by her hair, so you settle for the sheets instead. Your gaze wanders, travels everywhere but in her direction, because you don’t need to see the tortuous scene happening between your legs. Looking at the descending sun, this is probably the last time you’ll see the sun set in your life.

Her eyes challenge you to look at anywhere from her. Panting frantically, you find yourself at the mercy of Yerim’s whims, your cock fading and swelling into view, sticky and wet, gushing cum all over her tits. The sight drives you further mad, has you making sounds that have never been recorded—ever. She takes you in, delights in your suffering, eager for you to say the magic words.

“Ready to cum? I know you want to cum.” 

Even under duress, you’re not ready to fold just yet. There’s a little stubbornness inside you fighting back, pulling all the stops to keep you from surrendering to Yerim’s demands. You close your eyes, grip on the sheets even tighter, control your breathing, but it’s too little too late. You can only do so much with two hands.

“Cum for me.”

You hold onto a particularly deep breath, desperate to cling to whatever dying vestiges of control there is left, but your fate has already been sealed from the moment you’ve allowed your cock to enter her chest.

“Yerim, I—”

The exhale you release is the most relieving and satisfying. With it, comes out a rope of thick, creamy cum splashed all over her neck and chest. The aching, violent sensation doesn’t stop; more seed spills between the warmth of her cleavage. In one fell swoop, you feel all of your energy sapped from you, leaving you completely weak and powerless. 

In the gap between your climax and post-orgasm haze, you wonder if she’ll take some of your cum in her mouth, with the way she looks at your cock as it throbs beneath her chin. No. She lets it drip down her perfect naked body with a sticky white sheen that glows under the natural light piercing through the hotel’s window. 

“Just like that, hm,” she comments, casually flicking the last of your withering orgasm and cum with her wrist. She lathers the slick on her fingers on her shoulder, then places some into her mouth for a taste. 

After you regain a semblance of normalcy—after Yerim’s finished entertaining herself with your cum, staring at her coated body and fingers with curious interest—she rests her elbows on your knees, in the process of relearning how to bend. You sink back against the headrest, watch as the fading sun glimmers on an idol like her, destined to shine for every occasion possible—on the stage and under the afterglow of sex. She smiles, bright and wide, taking you in, as you are.

There’s something brewing, especially in the tender few minutes that follow. Something special, something more than just a spark. 

“So—” Yerim runs a sticky finger on your knee, dangerously close to stirring up your cock again. “You wanna try anal with me next?”

You pause. Widening your eyes, staring back with a look of disbelief. Just when you’re about to open your mouth to reply, she adds:

“Kidding. You do know that you’re gonna have to delete those tweets and comments, right? If they find out you’re here, you’re fucked. And I mean, a thousand times worse than now.”

—————

(A/N: This was an absolute joy to write. The nature of the request meant I could go very meta with it. About time we get a proper Red Velvet full album, so perfect timing! If you're able to figure out some of the references and easter eggs, then you, my friend, are too engrossed in the Tumblr K-pop male reader smut lore. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

[cozmicwonder]

Eyes on You

Warnings⚠️(18+ but you know good and well um you don’t care😉) p in v, oral-f receiving-, choking, slapping, nipple play. (Ngl this is my third time writing smut so I’m b it sure if it’ll be good😫 lmk what you think. I like constructive criticism.)

Summary- Your dreams of meeting the one and only Ken Sato comes true after the giants are accepted for a photo shoot. Partnership quickly spirals into Lust.

Being one of the top models in Japan wasn’t an easy title to hold. The pressure was always on no matter how great you were. Sure you never messed up and never planned too, but that was the stressful part. You had people looking up to you, you couldn’t mess up now. All eyes were on you. All eyes except one. Ken Sato.

You’d always see him on TV. The first time you saw him you were like a starstruck teenager all over again. You always tried to watch as many of his games as you could on TV. You even managed to make time to go to one of his games. He’s the reason you even bothered to learn about baseball. Before you found out about him you didn’t even care about sports. The thought of meeting him had quickly turned into the thought of being with him.

You’d be lying if you said your late nights didn’t end with your fingers between your thighs and thoughts of him in your head. God, you were obsessed. You couldn’t get him out of your head. You had it bad. Luckily the agency you worked with was hired to take photos of the Giants team for a sporting magazine. You didn’t know who to thank. Your agency accepting the job or the giants being good enough to make it into a magazine.

Saying you were excited was an understatement. You were ecstatic, but you had to keep it professional. The shoot was later this afternoon. You and a few other models have a chance to take a few shots with the giant players. This was your chance to talk to him! Maybe ask him out on a date..or something fun!

You were freaking out. Hoping you didn’t make a fool of yourself as a first impression. You were walking with your best friend Liza to work to get ready for the shoot. She was a photographer and you were a model. You two were so excited to be accepted into the same workplace. “Dude I can’t believe the giants are going to be here today” you squeal out while jumping lightly. Liza looks and you and chuckles.

“Yeah, I know right! But unfortunately for me, I have another group to work with so I can’t be there” she frowned. I look at her sympathetically. “Oh yeah right..so sorry Liza..I’ll be sure to get an autograph from one of them.” You smile her way hoping what you said would cheer her up, and it did. “Thanks y/n. You’re the best.” She holds you tightly in her arms. You hug her back and let go. “I know, it’s what I do.” You say flicking your hair dramatically as you joked.

Your act received a laugh and a slap on the arm from Liza. “Yeah whatever,” she says as she rolls her eyes. You guys continued to joke as you walked and you two didn’t realize that you made it to your place of work. The thing that took you out of your little world was the flashes of cameras and loud voices begging for attention. Your face was curious and confused. ‘Why are the paparazzi here already? The Giants don’t get here till 3:45’. You look at your watch and it read 3:00 pm in big white numbers.

‘Why are they here so early?’ You questioned yourself. Thinking of different possibilities for the situation. “Hey I think we should walk faster if we want to beat the paparazzi to the door” you spoke quickly and quickened your pace. Although you were in heels you could run like hell If the time called for it. So here you were at 3:01 pm running in pitch black stilettos to the door of the agency with Liza right behind you.

You closed your eyes for a split second chanting ‘please don’t break please don’t break’ and the next thing you knew you were on the ground after hitting something that felt warm and strong. You didn’t dare open your eyes, not ready to bear the embarrassment of the incident. “Hey, are you ok?” Someone in front of you spoke softly. Fear settled in the pit of your stomach. ‘Oh god no! It couldn’t be!’ You slowly open your eyes to reveal your worst nightmare. Ken Sato standing above you. I mean under a different circumstance this would be great! But not now, especially after bumping into him is awful.

He held a hand for you to grab and you took it. “IMSOSOSOOOOOSORRYFORBUMPINGINTOYOUIWASNTLOOKINGATWHEREIWASGOINGSORRY!!” You quickly stuttered out your words, bowed several times, and bolted for the door. Your face was beet red with embarrassment. You didn’t stop running until you were in the ladies' room.

You could of started crying from how embarrassed you were. You walked to the sink and placed your purse on the countertop. You run your hands over your face and take deep breaths to calm yourself down. “Wonderful first impression that was y/n” you mocked yourself quietly. Your heartbeat slowed and your breathing steadied. You let out a sigh followed by a groan. You wanted to scream and disappear.

You grabbed your purse and left the bathroom to the dressing rooms to get ready for the shoot. The briefing was short and simple. Pick a numbered jersey to match the player and come up with pose ideas. ‘They’ll follow your lead’ Mr. Ito’s words replayed in your head. You had to make sure you got lucky number 7.

As soon as you made it to the dressing room you went straight to the rack for your specific shoot. You greet most of the makeup artists and hair stylists as you make your way to the rack. As you get closer you notice someone already there. You silently prayed they didn’t take number 7 or you might’ve broken down and trashed the place.

When you got close enough you realized it was Lexie. She never really cared about anything. She was the ‘I just do what I gotta do so I can go home’ type of gal. You sighed, relieved you still had a strong chance of getting what you wanted. You had waited about a minute behind her. Not that you were checking your watch every few seconds or anything. As soon as she walked off you got straight to work to find number seven. The only sound you could hear was the sound of a metal hanger sliding on a metal rod.

You went from left to right since it had to be in number order. If it wasn't, someone was going to get a stern talking too. I giant stupid smile plastered on your face as your eyes laid on a big number 7. “Yes yes yes!” You said a little loud. Your outburst got you a few looks but you didn’t care at the moment.

You practically ran into a changing room. As you were about to change you realized you didn’t have any pants to change into. You ran back out jersey in hand and went to pick a pair of bottoms. Browsing the options you settled with a thigh-high plain black schoolgirl skirt. You rushed back into the changing rooms and decided to grab a pair of heels on your way out.

You unclothed yourself starting with your jeans and slid up the skirt. You then pulled your shirt over your head, hair falling along your arms. You didn’t want to fully button up the shirt so you left a few buttons unbuttoned near the end of the shirt to leave an opening to show some of your stomach.

You stare at yourself in the mirror trying to figure out what’s missing…a baseball cap could do the trick but what else..? You thought to yourself. ‘Oh yes! A chain dangling from the side will definitely look good! But I need to match Mr .Sato. Hmmm…I could get one for him, yes there we go! Problem solved.’

You grab your clothes and leave the dressing room. Before you head to get accessories you need to go to your locker. You walk a nice distance from the dressing room to the back area where the lockers are located. You do the code on the lock for your locker and open it, placing your things inside. You checked your watch for the time. ‘3:27 perfect! Enough time to finish getting ready’ You close your locker and make your way back to get accessories and a pair of shoes.

As you made your way back you heard loud frivolous laughter. It startled you a little, nearly jumping out of your socks when a loud voice boomed through the hall. You decided to get closer to get a better hear to see who it was. It was coming from the male bathrooms. You decided a minute or two of listening wouldn’t hurt.

As the laughter died down a new conversation started. “Hey did you guys see that girl that bumped into Ken?” One voice spoke sounding excited. The voice is kind of high-pitched. “Hell yeah dude she’s a total babe” one other voice spoke up deeper this time. The comment made you smile a little. Something in your heart was hoping to hear something from Ken Sato himself.

“Yo dude, what’s up? What’s with the furrowed brow?” This voice came with a slapping sound. Wonder what happened. “It’s nothing” it was Ken’s voice. Your heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. “C’mon dude you gotta agree she’s a total babe!” The same deep voice from earlier spoke again.

“Yeah, she’s fine or whatever” he was dismissive and his voice sounded slightly..irritated? The words were like a knife in the back. You almost teared up, but the sounds of people shuffling and walking stopped you and you sped walked away to not suspect anyone of any noise.

You made it back to the main area to get shoes and accessories. It was your favorite part about the place. Minus working with your best friend. Getting accessories and shoes was like shopping it was set up like a store and everything. The walls were decorated with shelves and shoes. The main floor area was decorated with racks and countertops of accessories.

You greeted Shelly when you walked in, she was a sweetheart. You went to the far right corner In search of a black cap. You browsed for a few moments before your eyes fell on a cap that would do the outfit justice. You then head toward a rack that has countless pant chains dangling from them. You found one you really liked but it didn’t have one that matched. So you tried again.

You then found a silver chain that had a few clear jewels on it and jewels as clips at each end. You found a similar one to match it was silver and had jewels at each end as clips. You smiled at yourself at the thought of matching with the Ken Sato. ‘All that’s left is a pair of heels. What kind though..’ you pondered on the thought while staring into space.

‘A chunky platform heel would work.’ You made your way to the shoe wall and browsed for your vision. You decided on a pair of Black chunky platform heels with a thick leg and a strap around the ankle. ‘Time to cash out’ you made sure you had everything you needed and headed for the register.

“Hey, Shelly!” You smiled as you placed your things on the countertop. “Hello y/n, is this all for today?” She asked scanning everything. “Yup! I’m so excited for my shoot today! These are the final touches I need then I’m done”. You decided to check the time. ‘3:38. OK enough time to add accessories’. “Oh yeah you’re working with the Giants today right?” She asked, looking excited as well. You nod rapidly. “Ok, we’ll just type in your name and Id number and make sure you return the items at the end of your shift. Have fun!” You finish typing and grab your things “Will do! Bye!” You say happily and walk out and sit at a nearby bench.

You take off your socks and put on your new heels. You clip them close and fix your hair into a ponytail that’ll stick out the back of the baseball cap. Lastly, the chain. You decide on the left to hold the chain. You put your socks in the bag, grab out the nearly identical chain and head to the picture-taking area. ‘Luckily I did my makeup before this or I’d be totally screwed.’

As you approached you saw the group of girls you were working with today huddled by Mr. Ito. You quickly slid into the group to not miss anything, luckily it seemed he’d just started. “Good afternoon ladies. Today's shoot is a big one so make sure you put in as much effort as you can and do your best. Whatever number you have on your jersey is the player you’ll be working with today. They are going in numerical order number one starting here behind us down to the left. Have fun ladies.” Mr. Ito sent us off with a wave of a hand and the girls flooded the area looking for their partner.

As you followed the many individual white backgrounds you made it to lucky number seven. Your body suddenly felt hot and sweaty and your heart began to race. As you approach, He looks to be in deep thought staring down at the ground. “Uh, Mr.Sato?” you managed to make yourself speak. You now stood in front of him. His head snapped up from his view of the ground. “Uh yes?” He spoke, sounding slightly spooked. You held a hand out for him to grab. “I’m y/n. I’ll be the model working with you today.” You gave a gentle wide smile. “It’s nice to meet you”. He studied your hand momentarily before grabbing it and shaking it gently.

“Nice to meet you too.” He returned the smile. ‘Ugh, he doesn’t know what that smile does to me’. You bite your inner cheek to stop you from biting your lip. “I brought you a pant chain so we could match since I have one.” You hold up the chain. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to wear it. I can Just ta-” Your rambling is cut off by him grabbing the chain and putting his hand up to dismiss your rambling.

‘It’s alright I don’t mind. But might I say you have some pretty good taste in accessories…” He says inspecting the item. You felt warm and bubbly inside. Your cheeks felt hot like fire, and you were sure they were bright red. “Thank you” you smile sheepishly as you watch carefully as his fingers play with the buckle of the chains to clip them onto his pants.

Images of late nights with your fingers between your legs wishing they were his popped in your head as you watched. His hand flexed, and it made your knees weak. You were staring so hard you didn’t realize he had finished putting it on. Him clearing his throat brought you back to reality. You mentally slapped yourself for getting caught. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. He chuckled. He chuckled. ‘God, his voice is attractive, he’s attractive. GAH I need him so baaaddd’.

“It’s alright. Mr. Ito said you guys would be in charge of the poses we do and props used-” ‘You can use me as a prop if you know what I mean.”. “Yes we were tasked to pick out multiple poses to try for the shoot. Only the best will make it into the magazine.” You speak with sudden annoyedness. “Kind of sucks that the fun ones never make it in.” You say and sigh.

This sparked a chuckle from him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right..Now what's first?” He asked clapping his hands together. “So for the first one I was thinking we could capture the back of the Jerseys.” he looked confused. “So like our backs are facing the camera and our thumbs are pointing towards the number on the back of the jersey.” He nods in agreement.

“Then I was thinking we could do something with the baseball bat. So where I’m standing in front of you with my hands on the bat. Afterward, we could do some back-to-back shots and solo pictures. Or even pictures with a Large number seven.” You shrug as your ideas pile out. He nods in agreement with the ideas. “Yeah, it sounds good to me.” He smiles and positions himself right of the middle of the background and turns around. You follow him but move to the left more and point your thumbs to your back, turning around.

You heard the flashes of the camera quite a bit before they stopped. “Ok now let me grab the bat and You figure out what face you wanna make. You made your way to the basket with baseball bats in it and you could swear you felt a pair of eyes on you the whole time. You make your way back and stand in front of him. You flip the bat upside down and place your forearms on it. Almost leaning on it. You bend over with your ass nearly touching Ken. “Is this alright?” You question not turning around. You waited a few seconds and didn’t get a response. You were about to turn your head when you felt slender fingers on your waist pulling you back so you were now currently touching Ken freaking Sato.

You put a smile on your face and a few smirks as the photos were being taken. Though your face displayed a calm professional look you were burning hot. By the end of it you could have sworn you felt something poking your ass. As the shoot progressed you felt lingering gazes from Ken, long touches, and the eye contact got longer. You’d be out of your mind if you said it wasn’t turning you on.

By the end of the shoot, you were hot and bothered. “It looks like we’re all done!” You turn around to face Ken. “This was fun.” You smile at him and all you get in return is a small nod. It disappointed you to say the least. ‘Did he not like having to partner up with me? Maybe it was the girly chain I gave him, it could’ve been the poses.’ You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize you were staring.

When you came back to you realize Ken was staring at you intensely and he had some kind of glint in his eye. You try to rub your legs together discreetly. Partially because you felt like you wanted to disappear with his intense gaze on you. You could tell he knew what you were doing from the way his eyes flicked down and then back up. You really wished you could roll up into a ball and pretend you didn’t exist.

“Do you think you could show me where the bathroom is?” His words broke the deep silence. You blinked a few times, the words sinking in. “Oh..uh yeah, Of course. Follow me.” You turn on your heel and begin walking away. The walk there is dead silent. You never understood the term you could hear a pin drop, until today. You felt his eyes all over you. It made you shiver.

As you two were walking you nearly passed a family bathroom. As you were about to pass it you felt a hand grab yours and pull you into the bathroom. As you were pulled in you were pushed against the door. Lo and behold Ken Sato stood in front of you. You felt him lean in and then heard the door lock. Your heart was racing at this point and your face felt hot once more.

Ken put an arm above your head and rested it on the door. His other hand was used to grab your chin and tilt it upward to see his face directly. He leaned in for a kiss. Your eyes were bolted wide open in shock. ‘Is this really happening, please be real please be real’. Your eyes slowly fluttered close as you returned the kiss.

The kiss started slow and passionate but quickly turned heated full of lust. His lips felt soft on yours and tasted like.. Cherries? Your tongues danced against each other as they both fought for dominance. Ken’s tongue came out on top. You both separated to catch some air. “You know,” He said in between breaths. “I’ve had my eye out for you for a while now”. He spoke while he trailed kisses down your neck. His tongue moved smoothly down your neck as he littered it with hickeys. Sucking and biting on your skin red marks began to appear across your neck and collarbone.

Soft murmurs of delight fell from your lips. “That’s funny because…I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while now too.” You laugh softly but it is quickly replaced by a pleasurable wince. His hands found their way into your shirt and under your bra. He lifted the bra up enough for your boobs to fall out into his hands. His fingers pinched and pulled at your already hard nipples. Quiet moans were pulled from your throat.

He chuckled at your comment. “Yeah? That so?” His voice sounded low and breathy. It made your knees weak. “Mmm yeah,” You say mildly out of breath. His mouth latched onto your right nipple. His tongue swirled around the nub and nibbled on it while his left hand toyed with your free nipple. Your moans got louder at the new sensation.

After sucking on your nipple for a time that satisfied him. He let go of your nipple with a pop. His hands traced your waist down to your hips and snuck behind to grab your ass. He gave it a firm squeeze and a nice slap. This received a surprised gasp from you. His hands then fell to your thighs as he fell to his knees.

He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder giving him a better view of your sex. He began to kiss your inner thigh. Repeating the same process he did on your neck until he stopped. You watched him in anticipation. “What’s this?” he says, bringing a hand up and tracing the now visible tattoo that read eat me. “Tsk tsk tsk, never would’ve thought you of all people would have something like this.” He looked up at you. “But if I may?” He asked with a raised brow.

It made you a hell of a lot wetter than what you would like to admit. “Yes,” You said quicker than you’d like to. He chuckled at your fast response. “No worries sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”. He moved your leg out further to get better access between your thighs. He ran a thumb down the center of your panties, “My…Someone’s excited”. You internally died.

He moved your panties to the side and ran a finger down your slit. A trail of your arousal followed. Retracting the finger he licked his finger clean. He let out a sound of satisfaction. He grabbed the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down pulling them down one of your legs so they dangled over the other. He wasted no time stuffing his face between your legs.

He licked a stride between your folds with a flat tongue gathering all of your slick. His tongue retracted and did the same motion twice more. Your head is now up against the door and your mouth is agap. His pace is agonizingly slow. He began sucking on your clit which made your moaning louder. You put your hands in his hair. His hair is unsurprisingly soft, silky, and smooth.

You pushed his face into your cunt for further satisfaction. As he continued to suck on your clit you felt something penetrate your hole. It was his fingers. ‘I knew those slender fingers wouldn’t disappoint.’. ‘Mmm fuck!” you spoke out, dragging the word out. His eyes remained on you taking in the way your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes sealing shut. The way your hands gripped his hair made him feel like his pants had just shrunk.

This is even better than what you imagined on your late nights alone. The pace of his fingers quickened and your walls clenched around them. Your thighs clamped around his head when he hit the right spot. “Ahh~! Mm right there” you moan out loudly. “Shh sweetheart don’t want us getting caught do you?”. The thought of someone catching you made you wetter. “Mm, but I guess you’d like that huh? Dirty girl”. He let out a chuckle. The vibrations go straight to your heat.

It felt as though a tight knot had formed in your stomach itching to be untied. Your grip on his hair got tighter as you grinded on his face chasing your release. You felt his tongue flicking and sucking on your clit faster. No head you ever got felt this good. Your breaths shortened and got higher. You let out a loud moan before you reached your climax. Your cum and arousal are being caught by Ken’s tongue. Your rock-solid grip on his hair loosened and your breathing began to steady.

You took a few deep breaths. As he pulled away his chin was shining in the light from your juices. “I just wanna stay between here for hours. Gah, you taste so good.”. He said licking his lips, removing your leg from his shoulder, and standing up tall.

You’re standing against the door with your chest heaving while Ken Sato stands above you. You’ve finally come back, to and see Ken just staring at you. “What is there something on my face?” You question while patting your face in search of the unknown article. He laughs “You’re leaned up against a door with no panties on and that’s what you’re worried about?” He raises a brow at you.

You smile, “I mean yeah, I can’t be getting fucked by the Ken Sato and looking a hot mess.” You laugh. He hums “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’ve been thinking a lot about this” He puts a hand to his chin. You look away, “Whaaat noo”. He doesn’t seem convinced but he drops it. “Well I know just the thing to get your mind off it” he smirks, grabs your hand and brings you to the countertop. He pushes you against it and pulls your head back gently so you can face yourself in the mirror.

“I want your eyes on the mirror at all times ok? You can do that for me sweetheart can’t you?” He asks whilst unzipping his pants. “Hell yeah, I can” You pride yourself in the way you could keep eye contact with certain things. Let’s just say you always won a staring contest. “You sound pretty sure..Better not disappoint.” He leaned against you and whispered in your ear.

He lifted your skirt up and grabbed his cock running it up and down your folds, gathering your slick before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. You wince at the burning stretch. From what you felt he wasn’t very thick, about a little over average but he sure was long. You shut your eyes tight, the stretch feeling to be too much. Your eyes opened just as fast as they closed when you felt a harsh slap on your ass.

“Thought you said you could keep your eyes on the mirror…Fuuck.” His head fell back as he bottomed out. The look on his face made you clench around him. “If you keep wrapping around me like that I’ll cum before I even start.” he began moving slowly, each slow thrust made you yearn for more. His pace began to quicken and the sound of skin on skin was now very audible.

You regret being cocky when you said you could keep your eyes on the mirror. He was hitting all the right places and the view from the mirror wasn’t helping. The pussy drunk look on his face mixed with his toned flexed arms made you want to come undone right then and there. Moans spilled out like a prayer. He let out a few grunts and moans here and there. His hands were tight on your hips, sure to leave a bruise or two.

“You know, that little stunt you pulled out there back at the shoot. Fuck…It was a real dirty move.” He says slowly trying to keep concentration on the rhythm of the thrust. He brought a hand up to your neck and gripped it tight but light enough so you could breathe. His thrust got harsher pounding you down on his cock. Your eyes rolled back into your head when he hit your g-spot, your gummy walls clamping down on him once more.

“Ahh, YES, fuck! Right there…Keep going” you managed to get out. You moved a hand up onto the mirror for more stabilization, the grip on the sink wasn’t enough. The fucked out look on yours and his face was embedded into your head, never to be forgotten. “Yeah, right there sweetheart? What do ya say, hm?” his voice was degrading. You lock eyes with him in the mirror “Mmm please, ahhh~ please keep going.” Your voice was desperate and whiny.

“Since you’ve asked so nicely” he continuously rams into the same spongy spot, rearranging your guts. Another hand left your side and went in between your thighs rubbing and pinching your clit. You were seeing stars at this point. Trying your best to keep your eyes on the now slightly foggy mirror. The same knotted feeling from earlier came back in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah! Ken, m’cuming!” you say mouth a jar and head fogged. “Yeah? C’mon sweets give it to me. I know you can” his words push you over the edge and the coil in your stomach snaps. Your breathing is heavy as your chest rises and falls. The thrust continues as Ken fucks you through your orgasm and chases after his release. The continued stimulation on your clit plus the thrusting becomes too much for your overstimulated body. “Ah ah! Ken mmm s-slow down”. His pace doesn’t let down. “S’too much” Your fingers are bent in on the mirror giving up on trying to stay focused on it.

Your head is hanging low between your shoulders. “Mmm, fuck. I know you can take it sweetheart…mm, ah. You’re doing so…so fucking good.” he whines in the last few words. The rhythm of the thrust begins to falter as his climax approaches. His pace finally lets down as he finishes inside. After he finishes he stays in and continues to toy with your clit determined to give you a third orgasm. You clench down on him. “C’mon sweetheart, give it to me,” he says, voice demanding.

The coil breaks again and you squirt everywhere. Ken continues flicking your clit stimulating you through your orgasm. Your breathing is raspy. “Fuuuck, I haven’t been fucked that good like ever.” You say laughing at your own comment and removing your hand from the mirror. “I can’t believe you came inside. You better hope I don’t end up pregnant. I don’t want to be involved in a scandal.” You say looking at him in the mirror. He pulls out and slaps your ass.

He smirks, “I wouldn’t mind having a mini-me around.”

[shamrockqueen]

Omega Retreat : Chapter 3

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, reference to physical ailments

Word count : 2083

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary : As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat.

You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

You tried to focus on your work, but you found yourself losing focus time and time again. Your eyes kept leaving the dull glow of your computer monitor to steal glances at your phone.

“You seem distracted.”

Her tone was playful, but the abrupt interruption still had you jumping in your seat. Your boss had snuck up behind you easily as you were rechecking your email on your phone.

“Geez, we’ll have to string a bell around you if you're going to sneak up on people.” You laughed back, reassured by her coy smile.

“Something’s got you in a good mood.” She hummed behind you.

“Oh, yeah I guess.” You try to hide your pink cheeks, too embarrassed over getting caught texting a new flame like a love-struck teenager.

“All the girls can smell the change. Even the betas, dear.” She sang back.

“Who is he?” She tried to hide her beaming smile behind the back of her hand as she leaned over on the wall of your cubicle.

You scoff, trying to cover your warm cheeks as you answer. “You sound more excited than my mother was.”

She gasped with a wide smile, like a schoolgirl getting gossip from a friend. Omega’s always connected more closely, and it warmed your heart that she could be equally happy for you. So, when she leaned in for a hint of another scent that may have been left to linger on your skin, you quickly answered the anticipation in her eyes.

“We haven’t met in person yet; you're not going to catch a whiff of him, so don’t bother trying.” You laughed up at her before she pulled away.

“No fun. You could at least tell me what he is.” You knew it had to be the question bugging her the most.

You hesitated for a second, biting back on your lip before whispering back, “An alpha.”

“I knew it!” She nearly jumped with delight, leading you to try and shush her before the other cubicles were privy to your personal business.

It made you happy that you could feel like you had bonds even at work, and we’re thankful for her gentle omega nature.

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m sorry; I’m just so happy for you. After everything, I just..”

You didn’t want her to finish that sentence. Luckily for you, she wouldn’t, looking back into your saddened eyes instead. “I’m just so happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you’ll meet him soon?”

You chuckled alongside her, glad to have the conversation shift back to a lighter tone.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.” You shoo at her, hoping to get some of the work she’d given you done today.

She gets the message, realizing she’d been gushing for too long and had work of her own.

“Fine, but I expect an invite to that wedding.”

It was the last you heard of her before she walked back to her office.

You smiled back at your computer, a drab Excel sheet still painted over its background. You sighed back at it until a telltale ding rang across your previously ignored phone.

A relationship with an alpha was still scary, but Bucky seemed to dampen those worries every time you looked at his photo blipping over your screen.

You pulled the phone towards you to glance over the notification of Bucky’s message.

“I wait to see you tonight.” You read along with the small message box.

You ran your fingernail along the power button before pressing on it, letting the passcode window light up the screen before tapping on a handful of numbers.

You looked back at the few cubicles behind you, making sure you had a moment to answer.

“Me either. I can’t focus on work,” you typed fervently.

“I’d rather meet you in person, Omega." The message pops up in the next second.

You let out a breathy chuckle with a smile, still in disbelief that you could be his omega even in text.

“I know. Hopefully soon, but I’m excited about our video date.”

You were more than excited; it was all you could think about as the hours ticked away slower than they normally would. When 5 p.m. finally rolled around, you nearly lept from your seat. You nearly forgot to shut off your computer before grabbing your stuff and rushing away.

A giddy drive home was a delightful change of pace, spurring you to drive just a tick above the speed limit as you neared your little house.

You fly through the house, letting the door slam behind you before tossing your purse over the couch. You stumbled past the mirror, only to twist back towards it after catching sight of your messy hair.

Your fingers only tangle into it as you fight to take it out of its messy bun. You only tied it up halfway through the day for a little comfort, only to ruin all the work you put into it that morning.

You didn’t have any time to fuck with it now, yet you continue to burn through the few seconds you have left trying to tame your tired looks. Could each flyaway be seen through your laptop's webcam?

You stopped for a second, closing your eyes and sucking in an uneven breath before looking back up at your reflection.

You looked red—nothing new, of course—but not a face you wanted him to see, and yet there wasn’t anything you could do to fight it except to finally calm down.

Your hair wasn’t bad, and your reflection wasn’t meant to scare you, and as you continued to breathe, that red blush began to fade. You can do this.

You leave the mirror, setting your eyes on the laptop still sitting on the coffee table. You lowered yourself to the sofa to sit as comfortably as possible before pulling the computer to your lap and switching it on.

A brief photo of you with your arm wrapped around your mother’s shoulder flashed in the background of your screen before you set up the video call.

It was just more of those bouncing dots with a different ring as it all danced along a blue screen. You held your breath, waiting patiently for his image to take over. Yet, when the square zoomed over the page and movement took over your screen, every ounce of air seemed to force its way from your lungs.

He was there, tucking his hair behind his ear and smiling at his own screen as you gave a shocked smile.

“Hi!”

You mouthed back an overwhelmed ‘hi’ as you watched him intently. Your mouth moved in an attempt to form words, but you were far too mesmerized by the real alpha on your screen. That is, until his smile fell.

“Is your sound on? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” You were quick to reassure him, wanting desperately to see that smile set upon you again.

Just as you hoped, it was back in an instant after hearing your voice.

“Sorry, I was just a little speechless for a second.” You blinked at his image, wanting to make sure it was real as you spoke to it. “It’s amazing to finally see the real you. Not that I thought your photos were fake..uh it’s just.” You fought your way through your ramblings as he chuckled at your giddy and nervous demeanor.

“No, I know what you mean. It’s so exciting to finally see you, Omega.”

It was like a dream, finally laughing and talking where you could see one another and study each of his expressions as he took each word that left your stuttering lips. Hours pass, and the conversation continues to burn through the night as it’s carried happily between the two of you.

It was so much better, but not nearly enough. A frustration shared by both you and him began to show as the veneer hiding it broke away.

“But, I wanna bury my face in your neck.” His voice deepens, showing a glimpse at a small possessive side. It was something you’d initially feared from an alpha.

“I gotta see you for real.”

It’s so sudden, you could hardly believe it would always be like this for omegas, but how could someone who had shut themselves away for so long really know?

You think back on what others spoke of during their tales of pleasure and even the more harrowing words from your physician only a few weeks prior. They’d cut off your suppressants ‘for your own safety’, and urged you to seek a sexual partner in the most blatant terms. But, they weren’t wrong, and with another possibly fatal heat on the horizon, you had to make a very difficult choice.

“Maybe we should. It's just...” You stopped for a second to calm yourself. “It hasn’t been very long, and you're already..so smitten.”

“Can you blame me?” His voice rang low over the speaker yet still sang through your worries so melodically.

His tone drops, becoming more serious and heavy, so much so that it only echos the ever-grave voice that bounced around the back of your mind. “What are you scared of?”

It hit close to home, like he could be looking right through you and seeing every mounting fear you tried so hard to bottle up.

“It's just, with a heat coming in a couple weeks..” you tried to ignore the breaking of your own voice as you spoke. You didn’t want this to be the reason why, and you didn’t want it to be so soon that you two had to meet or finally be intimate. “...and I just don’t want to rush things. But I agree; maybe we should consider meeting in person soon."

You fought not to let your true emotions show and not to let your true fears come to light in front of him. It was a relief when his face lit up with so much joy. He just stared back at you, his eyes beaming through the screen.

You could nearly cry. After ripping off this first bandage, it was such a relief that you finally felt you could breathe properly. You chuckled happily together, taking in each other's joyous reaction when he finally spoke again.

“I can send you an invitation right away. I can be there for you.” He spoke so passionately, looking at you with big, wet blue eyes before typing away at the keys on his keyboard.

“W-what invitation?” You nearly coughed on the words as they left your throat.

You do think back on the vacation packages on the original website and how they boasted about safety as well as elegance. The thought of having that kind of special getaway with the Alpha often, finally seeing Bucky where the sun could hit his skin instead of in the glow of your laptop monitor.

But, he was still technically a stranger, in spite of the two of you consistently sharing messages over the course of several weeks. Running away with him seemed, in the most juvenile sense, stupid. Yet, a twinge in your stomach urged you to leap at his offer.

“It is such a beautiful resort.” You chuckled nervously. You recalled all the photos you’d scrolled through before he’d matched you on the website.

“I’ll meet you anywhere you want me to, Omega. I just want to feel you so bad.” The low drag of his voice wasn’t unfamiliar by now, after having heard similar sentiments during a steamier exchange over a phone call. You felt a little embarrassed as your skin started to flush again.

“I don’t want to make you spend that much money on me.”

"This is not about money. I just want everything to be perfect for you.”

You try to force yourself to speak, but each word falls flat on your tongue. He was offering you what felt like a lifeline with open arms. You never wanted something like this to progress so damn quickly, but maybe you were really that desperate. Maybe you were really that scared.

It was so nice to be wanted, and by him especially, an alpha unlike any other you’d ever met. You still wanted time to think about it, but what time do you have left before a possible disaster? The date of your heat was growing closer, but you had to afford at least a night to ponder something like this.

“C-can I have a few days to think about it?”

Chapter 4

Tag list : @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll

[wosoxwriterrr]

awfc x teen reader

request: Travelling on the team bus to Manchester, R starts to feel really ill and the team take care of her.

a/n- i’m aware my fics are pretty short atm but bare with me :) requests are open!!

485 words———

Travel sickness was your worst nightmare, comes at the most inconvenient times ever! Today travelling up to Manchester you knew it would be bad. “You okay kid?” Kim asks as you sit on the coach next to Kyra, eyes closed and headphones on. “Not feeling too good” you’re able to whisper back before a wave of nausea hit you. Before you are able to warn anyone, your lunch was splattered all over the table as tears start streaming down your face, a mixture of embarrassment and sickness. The bus stopped at the next service stop and you were escorted off the bus by a comforting Stina. “Oh sweetheart it’s okay don’t cry” she says while you’re sobbing into your puke covered arsenal hoodie. The bus was cleaned up while you and Stina were in the petrol station bathroom getting cleaned up. The bus was then stocked up with a few emesis bags just incase. After you get all cleaned up you walk back onto the bus quietly, embarrassment taking over you. The embarrassment was quickly wiped from you as all the girls assured you that it’s okay and it happens to the best of us. The bus got back on the road, now sat with Kim, Leah, and Steph as they all wanted to make sure you were looked after. After a good 2 hours of playing uno and looking at photos of Calvin, you started feeling sick again but luckily were able to warn people. “Gonna puke” Kim hurriedly grabbed an emesis bag from her backpack parked at her feet and shoved it into your hands just in time for you to lose the contents of your stomach. Nobody said a word hoping to make the situation a lot less embarrassing for you which you were thankful for. The bag was disposed of and the game of uno was resumed. As the team bus arrived in Manchester ahead of kick off you started to feel that uneasy feeling in your stomach and you knew that you were about to puke. Not wanting to puke in the aisle of the seats you quickly rushed off the bus and swiftly lurched forward in order to empty your stomach. Gasps and shrieks were heard coming from the massive crowd of fans waiting on the teams arrivals which made you want to curl up in a hole and die. Leah was at your side so fast trying to escort you swiftly into the changing room so you can get away from the fans. “Oh kid i don’t think you should be playing today, you’re not going to have any energy on the field” Kim says with a sympathetic look on her face. “Yeah, don’t feel good” you said in a whispered tone not being able to muster up the energy to speak. It’s safe to say you didn’t play against city and slept the whole bus journey home.

(pretend you are katie) 🤍

kyracooneyx- liked by leahwilliamsonn and 57,970 others

stinablackstenius- got the kid to sleep

^ kyracooneyx- better pay me for babysitting

user1- did anyone see y/n when she got off the bus? gross 🤮

kimlittle1990- poor kid

leahwilliamsonn- never knew someone could be so sick and still beat everyone at uno 🙄

^ yourusername- you’re just jealous 😒

user2- nice photo 😍😍😍😍😍😍

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 32- Flashback mary ☕️

*This is a flashback chapter to Y/n and Scara’s high school days*

It was homecoming day, not any homecoming, but the last one you were ever going to experience in high school. It was your senior year and you wanted to make the most out of your last year of high school.

Your morning started out normal. The group chat was buzzing with excitement. They were also happy that Scaramouche was going to be hanging out with the group after being away for a while. He was always with his other group of friends, the ones you tried keeping away from.

You knew that Scaramouche was nothing like his friends. It was just upsetting that he wouldn’t publicly stick up for you. Despite all that, you and Scaramouche still called every night and shared things about each other’s day. He was good company to have.

The weeks leading up to the dance you both didn’t have a date. The two of you teased each other and called each other bitchless for not going with anyone but friends. However, without either one asking, it was pretty much unspoken that you two were going together. Only nobody knew, maybe besides Hu Tao and Childe. You two were also going in a group of friends. Nevertheless, as long as you hung out with him throughout the night, you didn’t really care.

You got ready at Hu Tao’s house. You both were running a bit behind schedule, mostly Hu Tao making both of you late. The two of you were supposed to meet up with the group to take photos but that didn’t happen.

When the two of you finished getting ready it was already 7:15, homecoming started at 7:00.

“Hu Tao we are so late.”

“It’s fine! The others are barely on the way there now. Even if the line is long to get in, we can just cut with people we know.”

Hu Tao’s time blindness made you concern but you shrugged it off. Her parents were driving you there. There weren’t any official plans on what to do after but someone is most likely throwing a party. Nobody knew who yet.

Hu Tao was wearing a short but simple burgundy dress. Her hair was styled into her iconic pigtails and you thought she looked very pretty. However, she got some new black high heels and can tell she was struggling to walk.

“Are you ok?” You asked as the two of you descended down the stairs.

“Yeah I just need to break into these shoes more,” Hu Tao held onto your hand and the staircase railing to prevent herself from falling.

“By the end of the night you’re going to take those things off.”

“I hope not. These were expensive and I want to make them last.”

You playfully shook your head and got to the bottom of the stairs. Her parents were already waiting for you both.

“Hu Tao you look so gorgeous! Y/n you look amazing as well!” Her mother complimented you both.

You thank her and noticed Hu Tao’s dad taking out his phone for pictures.

Hu Tao tried protesting against it saying how late you guys were but eventually gave in. After a few photos, her mom was driving you both to the school. Teyvat High School only booked venues for winter formal and prom. Homecoming was always at the school. Luckily, it was an outdoor school.

“Is anyone there already?” You turned to ask Hu Tao.

She was texting the group chat so you didn’t bother to look at your phone yourself, “Lumine said they’re all in line already. They’re at the back and the line is long apparently,” She replied back.

“I hope they play good songs this year. Last year was kinda boring.”

“That’s because last year you went with some complete weirdo.”

Hu Tao wasn’t wrong. The year prior, you were talking with someone and you two went to homecoming together. You both left an hour in because his friends wanted to go somewhere else. You wished you had stayed longer but you didn’t want to complain. You two never dated because you soon found out he only wanted you because you were a trainee. Instantly broke it off.

You two finally arrived and it already 7:50. It was dark out but you could still see the number of students in line. There was security watching the line as well to make sure that nobody was cutting.

When you two got out of the car you heard some people gasp and point at Hu Tao. Sometimes you forget she’s a rapper under a big company. You quickly spotted your friends and waved to them. Only Lumine noticed and grabbed the other’s attention. They motioned for the two of you to come into line with them but a guard was watching. Fortunately, he spotted some other people trying to cut into the line and started to walk towards them.

You and Hu Tao wasted no time merging into line where your friends were and acted like you were there the entire time.

The group was all there, Cyno, Kazuha, Aether, Thoma, Lumine, and last but not least, Scaramouche.

You and him made eye contact and he looked really good. Granted, he was wearing a normal suit that looks like every other guy there but he was wearing the dark purple tie you said he should get.

“The fuck are you staring at?” Scaramouche glared at you with a dirty look.

“Not your ugly ass,” You move away rolling your eyes, “I was looking at how pretty Lumine is.”

Lumine was wearing a blue dress that complimented her figure. She reminded you of Cinderella with her blonde hair.

“You barely got into line and you two are already fighting,” Kazuha sighed.

“You two need to settle this feud in bed,” Cyno laughed.

“I would rather listen to Hu Tao’s shitty song on repeat than ever get into bed with Y/n.”

“Who are you calling a shitty song?” Hu Tao yelled back.

“Ok! Time for shots!” Aether interrupts. He swung his arms around you and Hu Tao’s shoulders, handing you guys a small shot bottle of Tito’s.

“There was more but we pre gamed in the car and could only save you one bottle each,” Aether explained.

“Maybe if you weren’t so late you could’ve gotten more,” Scaramouche chimed in.

“You sound obsessed,” You grumbled cracking open the bottle. You made sure to turn away from the security guards so you don’t get caught.

As you were chugging you felt the burning sensation of the vodka pour down your throat. Alcohol never tasted good, you just wanted to loosen up more.

Cyno thought it would be funny to slightly tilt the bottle as you were drinking, causing the remaining alcohol to spill all over your mouth and onto your outfit.

You began to choke and cough.

“What the fuck!” You yelled in between coughs. Your throat was stinging and becoming increasingly dry. You were hoping to get inside soon so you can grab a water bottle.

Only Cyno and Aether bursted out laughing, everyone else tried holding back their laugh. You wiped your mouth and tried wiping down the wet spots on your clothes. Not even inside and your clothes were already ruined.

You guys were about to head inside, quickly you and Hu Tao threw the tiny bottles into a bush. The school would probably just find it later.

After getting checked in, you immediately went over to a table to grab some water to soothe your throat. This time, you drank away from your friends.

“Where should we go first?” Thoma pipes up. The school had a big budget and the student council spent all of it on a DJ, food trucks, gaming trucks and photo booths.

“Let’s go in the mosh pit!” Hu Tao suggested, pointing to the crowd of people in the distance.

This was high school and their version of a mosh pit is just jumping up and down while also shoving people when their favorite song plays. It’s fun for a little but you feel like you’ll get trampled after a while.

“I’ll sit this one out. I want to take photos first before sweating off my makeup,” Lumine says, sitting down at a nearby lunch table.

“Yeah I’ll wait till after we take photos, my mom will get pissed if I look terrible in them,” Thoma replies, sitting down next to Lumine.

Kazuha sits down on the opposite side of the table, “Mosh pits aren’t really my thing. We’ll wait here until you guys are done, then we can go to the photo booths. Is that ok with you guys?”

“Boo you’re no fun! But ok we’ll only be in there for a little bit,” Hu Tao replies as she sets downs her purse onto the table, “Watch my bag.”

The rest of you make your way over to the crowd.

Fein by Travis Scott began to blast through the speakers. You saw people rushing in and took it as a sign to do the same. Luckily, Hu Tao didn’t mind shoving people out of the way. She grabbed your hand and all of you guys made your way in.

Despite holding onto her hand, it still felt like you were going to fall. You were jumping up and down to the song but there were more people coming in and bumping into you. The mixed smell of sweat and Dior Sauvage made the air feel hot and heavy.

You were going to need a break soon. However, the next song being Family Ties by Kendrick and Baby Keem didn’t want to make you stop. More and more people were coming in and you were getting pushed around.

Your grip from Hu Tao was slipping and it really did feel like you were going to fall. You quickly grabbed onto the arm of the nearest person, which happens to be Scaramouche.

He looked at you and noticed your predicament, “Dumbass,” He muttered, rolling his eyes as he interlocks his fingers with yours.

You couldn’t help but smile and continue jumping. His grip was a lot stronger than Hu Tao’s which made you feel more safer. You weren’t worried about anyone noticing since everyone was occupied with not getting trampled.

After a few more songs played, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Your breath hitched thinking you had been caught. You slowly turned around and felt relief when you realized it was only Cyno. Granted, he didn’t know anything about you two but it would’ve been worst if it was a stranger.

“Hey, let’s take a break Aether doesn’t feel well and I don’t want him throwing up.”

You nodded and whispered to Scaramouche who also nodded and stopped jumping. You held Cyno’s hand as he led you two out of the mosh pit, like the buddy system.

As the three of you got out, you felt the cold night air against your skin. It felt nice after being in that stuffy environment. You didn’t realize how much you were sweating and panting. You looked down and noticed you were still holding Scaramouche’s hand.

He scoffed and quickly pulled his hand back.

Whatever.

You made your way back to the table and saw Aether with his head down and groaning.

“Holy shit are you ok?” You asked concerned for your friend.

Aether simply put his thumbs up in the air. He wasn’t too good with tight spaces. You sat down next to him and Lumine. She was the more famous twin but you were never really close with her. She was always away filming and doing photoshoots. You sometimes wonder how he can be related to her.

“Can you get up already? You’re so dramatic.” Lumine sighed, pinching her nose bridge, “The photo booth line is going to get longer the more we wait.”

“Is that anyway to treat your brother?” Aether mumbled, he looked up to glare at his sister before putting his head down again.

“I should’ve eaten you in the womb,” Lumine shot back.

After a few minutes, Aether was feeling less nauseous and was ready to take photos.

Fortunately, there was no line and all eight of you squished your way into the photo booth. It was quite spacious but it did feel tight being all there together. There were props and signs laid out inside and everyone took something.

The booth only took four photos. In the first photo, you and Thoma had your arms around the other person’s shoulders and pointing at each other. In the second photo, you did a simple peace sign. In the third photo, you were hugging Hu Tao.

In the last photo, Kazuha accidentally elbowed Scaramouche which prompted him to almost fall. Due to everyone cramped up next to each other, you all came down with him. The photo captured everyone trying not to fall and nobody looked their best, except Thoma. He was the only one who looked at the camera and posed.

Everyone got out and waited for the photos to be printed.

“I apologize to the person’s ass who I grabbed while trying to keep balance,” Aether says, scratching the back of his head.

“I think that was mine dude,” Cyno replied laughing.

You rolled your eyes, “Scara is so weak that he stumbled when Kazuha barely tapped him.”

“See how weak I am when I punch you in the face,” Scaramouche grumbled as he took the photos from the machine, handing them to each person.

You looked down at the photo collage as you all began walking back to your table. You smile fondly at what would only be a distant memory in the future. Your senior year had only started but it will quickly end before you could even blink.

You didn’t want to miss out on the good memories like this one.

.

.

.

Everyone had split up after a while to do different activities. You all agreed to meet up when the night ended but for now, you lost everyone and didn’t know what to do. You had just came out from the mosh pit and your feet were hurting too much to continue. You decided to take a small breather somewhere far away from everyone.

You went up the stairs that leads to one of the buildings that had a balcony where you can see the football field. You would come up here when you were bored with class and wanted to walk around.

Only this time, it appears you weren’t alone. You noticed a familiar figure already looking out. One of which you were hoping to get alone time this night.

He heard your footsteps and turned around to look at you.

“Can’t you see I was here first?”

“Can’t you see that I don’t give a fuck?” You scoffed and stood next to him. He didn’t move from his position.

Scaramouche sighed and took out a pack of cigarettes.

“How did you get those pass the security?”

“I have my ways,” He said while putting one in his mouth and casually lighting one.

He took a long drag and exhaled, making sure to clear out the smoke with his hand. He silently passed it onto you.

You took it from his hand, “If we get caught we’re getting suspended.”

“Maybe they’ll suspend you but definitely not me. I’ll just have my agency contact the school.”

“You and your fame.”

“Something you wouldn’t know about.”

You scoffed, “In case you forgot, I was on that idol survival show. People still know me.”

“Yeah but who didn’t debut.”

You stood silent. It was pointless ever getting into a petty argument. He knew how to silence you every time.

You only took out your phone in response.

“Let’s take a photo together!”

“Hell no. Don’t you have the one we took with the others?”

“Yeah but I want one with just us. Let’s take a 0.5 photo.”

“No.”

“Too bad we’re taking one anyways.”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes and got closer next to you. He looked straight at the camera as you took the photo. When you were done you looked at the photo.

“See how cute we look!”

He side eyed you, “I’m the one that looks good. Not so sure about you though.”

“Fuck you.”

Scaramouche tried to hold in his laughter as he looked away from you.

“Kidding. You look better than normal,” Scaramouche says, putting out the shared cigarette and throwing it off the ledge.

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

“Thank you? Uh, you too I guess,” You huffed, leaning forward against the railing.

There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you as you both stared at the football field in front of you. The distant sound of music only filled the air. It was a comfortable silence and you wished it would last forever, staying by his side like this.

It was cold up on the balcony and the night breeze caused you to shiver a bit. Scaramouche of course noticed.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“No,” Scaramouche mimicked your voice, “Yet you’re starting to shake more than a tweaker waiting for his next fix.” He said in his regular voice as he took off his suit jacket and put it over your shoulders.

“I didn’t ask for your jacket,” You tried protesting. You secretly enjoyed it though, that’s why you held it closer to you.

“Do you want it or do you want to continue being cold?”

You didn’t respond.

“Exactly,” Scaramouche huffed in annoyance.

You enjoyed moments like these. Ones where it was the two of you alone and you can talk freely like this. It made you upset whenever it ended, because you knew he would go back to ignoring you in the hallways.

You were getting lost in your thoughts and his words from earlier kept coming back.

“Who didn’t debut.”

It was silly to get stuck on that. You knew the votings were rigged, everyone did, but it still hurt. You gave it your all and worked hard to debut but it wasn’t enough.

You had gotten back to school and it was all anyone could talk about. You’ve gained sympathy and comfort from others, but it didn’t make the failure any less painful.

It made you realize how things can come and go so quickly. That’s why you had a bittersweet feeling about being in your last year of high school. It has been a rough four years and you were glad to not be able to see some of your peers, but what about your friends?

The friends that have been supporting you through everything. They’re going to be studying in different universities. It’s going to be hard to keep in contact and you’ll be trying to train your ass off to debut.

“Do you think after the school year ends, we’ll still be in contact with each other?” You piped up, breaking the silence to look over at him.

He hesitated for a moment before replying, “I don’t see why we wouldn’t.” Not sparing a glance at your direction.

“It’s just your popularity is rising and if I don’t end up debuting then it’ll be hard to keep in contact with you. It’s easier to continue seeing each other if we’re both in the entertainment industry,” You managed to say, looking away from him this time.

“You’re worried I’ll forget about you?”

“You’re making me sound desperate,” You mumbled, hint of annoyance in your tone.

“The company would be stupid if they only keep you as a trainee forever. You’re not untalented and you put in the effort. Some look helpless on stage, but not you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. Despite Scaramouche being an asshole half the time, he knows when to be sorta nice.

You two often shared things that were troublesome. It was almost like the other one knew what the other one was feeling at the moment. It was something special you two had. Even when one of you was being emotionally constipated, you both still tried your best to give advice to the other person.

“Though, you can work on your dancing skills,” He quickly said.

Never mind. Moment ruined.

You smacked him on the back of his head. He always humbles a person after giving a rare compliment. Most of the time it’s backhanded.

Scaramouche was about to say something but the two of you heard footsteps coming from behind you guys. You both froze not wanting to turn around, afraid it was someone that would freak out if they saw the two of you together.

A familiar voice rang through both of your guy’s ears, “Y/n? Scara?”

You both turn around to see Thoma standing there. You sigh a wave of relief when you see your friend. Though, he’s definitely confused on the close proximity you and Scaramouche are sharing, but doesn’t say anything.

Instead he says, “It’s almost over. Let’s head back to the car. Do you guys need a ride?”

You both nod in unison and begin to follow Thoma back. You silent give Scaramouche his jacket back. It’d be a scandal if people caught you with him like this.

The three of you silently make your way to the parking lot where the others were. You didn’t realize how many of you there were until you thought about the car situation.

“Ok there’s no way I’m fitting all of us into my car,” Thoma sighed pointing at his suv.

“Too bad, make it happen. You have a big enough car. Two people can sit in the trunk, three people in the backseat but someone has to sit on someone’s lap, and the other person sits in the front,” Cyno suggested.

Everyone agreed right away, however, Thoma hesitated before agreeing begrudgingly. That’s how you ended up sitting in the trunk with Scaramouche. Lumine, Hu Tao, Aether and Cyno were all in the backseat. Aether sitting on Cyno’s lap and Kazuha in the front seat.

Before you even left the parking lot, you guys were discussing on where to go.

“I heard Keqing is throwing an after party,” Cyno mumbled, barely heard from Aether sitting on him.

“Dude I swear if I feel something hard underneath me,” Aether grumbled, clearly him sitting on Cyno’s lap was not his first choice.

“I can say the same for you,” Cyno argued back.

You didn’t know how you and Scaramouche ended in the trunk. It was pretty spacious given the car model so it wasn’t too uncomfortable and you both had leg room. You just sat on opposite sides from each other.

“Can we get food? I’m lowkey hungry as fuck right now,” Kazuha mentioned. While everyone was arguing on who sits where, he silently hopped in the passenger seat.

Everyone agreed and that’s how you ended up at In-N-Out at midnight. It wasn’t packed but you guys stood out due to your attire. It’s not like you guys gave a fuck though.

After you all finished with your food, you guys decided to go to the park since you didn’t want the night to end. It was around two in the morning and you were sitting on a bench watching your friends mess around at the playground.

It was nice to see everyone goof around. However, it brought you back to that bittersweet feeling you noticed before. Seeing their smiles and hearing their laughter. There's this warmth in your heart, knowing how much joy you all bring to each other. At the same time, there's a tinge of sadness because you realize this might be one of the last times you’re all together like this. It's your last year before you all go your separate ways, and you can't help but cherish every moment, knowing that soon, things will change.

After a while, everyone got tired and Thoma dropped everyone home. You put the photo booth photo on your dresser, next to the photos you had of your friends.

.

This is the memory you had just remembered as you stare at that photo. The photo of your friends at your last homecoming. Setting the photo down, you look back at your phone. You haven’t contacted your friends since school has ended, even though you promised. Things have gotten busy but you miss them dearly. One day, you’ll have a reunion and it’ll be like the old times.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Sorry this took a while I’ve been busy studying for tests 😓 Also as a little hint: this friend group is the same one in my next xiao smau (except for thoma he’s a replacement) so this is what would happen if xiao wasn’t in the picture at all :) Also i tried to write the mosh pit scene based on experience 😭 Do not go into one in heels my feet were so bruised and bleeding by the end.

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr @jiminscarmex @sp1ng @bananasquash @aceakariii @thegalaxyisunfolding @ariilies @hisfuture @automaticpatroltragedy @sartrst @cheriswag @kokomiskiss @albedomestic-airline @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @wvvyq @amurotoorudesu @ennsposts @illu-fu @vitanye

[javier-pena]

in plain sight, chapter i

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader | Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re back home in Austin for the summer and you start dating Tommy Miller, a boy you know from high school, a boy you had a crush on when you were a teenager. All you’re looking for is an uncomplicated summer fling, just some fun, until you have to go back to college in the fall. What you didn’t know is that Tommy has an older brother. And that older brother can’t keep his eyes off you right from the start …

Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol | smoking | reader has hair that can be grabbed | car sex | semi-public sex | a little bit of dirty talk | reader is a tiny bit bratty (in a blink and you’ll miss it kind of way) | two (2) pussy slaps | a tiny, tiny bit of degradation | oral (m and f receiving) | p in v sex | voyeurism | exhibitionism

Notes: The story of how I came up with the idea for this fic is actually very silly, so I'll spare you the details, but I will say it had something to do with a certain movie from 1978. Anyway, I'm so so excited to finally be able to share the first chapter of this!! I can't remember the last time I was this excited about a story, so that's a good sign I'll manage some semi-regular updates. I want to thank Angela @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for answering some of my questions about Austin, and, of course, Dani @alexturner who said it'll be good for me to write a story like that 🤭

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

***

“Back for the summer, eh?” was the first thing Tommy said to you after the both of you hadn’t spoken in seven years.

You were standing in line at the ice cream truck, holding your niece’s hand who was jumping up and down, giddy with excitement. Tommy was driving past in his red pick-up truck, a car you’d seen around the neighborhood, unaware it was his. Hell, there wasn’t a lot of awareness where it came to Tommy Miller in the first place. You almost didn’t recognize him that early June day leaning out of the window of his truck, elbow propped up against the door, a bright smile on his face. The boy you remembered from high school, the boy you had a crush on all those years ago, looked so different. Scrawny, lanky, greasy hair, a face full of spots. Sometimes you scrolled through old photos, laughed at yourself because you had lain awake for nights, imagining how he would confess his love for you, ask you to run away with him. The man in the truck that sunny afternoon was just that … a man. His tight, stained shirt was clinging to his arms and chest, grown big with muscles over the years. His hair that used to fall into his eyes, obscuring half his face, had been cut short. His tight curls were hidden underneath a baseball cap that had the logo of a local brewery on it. His face was tan, a dark golden color; it made you do a double take, made your palm grow sweaty against your niece’s hand, embarrassed by his attention. Because surely, he had mistaken you for someone.

“Tommy?” you asked, stumbling forward a few steps when your niece yanked on your arm. “Tommy Miller?”

He laughed so hard his chest heaved. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Then he ran a hand across his sweaty brow, his dirty cheeks. “Don’t tell me I’ve aged that badly.”

Of course he asked you for your number that afternoon, and of course you gave it to him while your niece was busy with her ice cream. You scribbled it onto the palm of his hand, thinking it was a quirky, romantic gesture. It had nothing to do with the fact that you wanted to touch him. The heat of a Texan June afternoon smudged the pen so badly before he got home that evening he couldn’t decipher your number. Luckily, he knew where you lived and came by the next day with a bouquet of flowers to ask you out on a date – officially.

That date went well – more than well. He took you to the movies, to a steakhouse, to a new bar in town. He was so different from the boys you met at college; he had been to war, he had his own company that he was running with his brother, he wanted to know about you and didn’t use your time together to talk about himself and his grand plans for his professional future. You hadn’t laughed that much in a long time, hadn’t enjoyed a guy’s company that much in … well, if you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t remember ever having had that much fun with anyone. You didn’t want the night to end, and when Tommy dropped you off back home afterwards, he kissed you in his truck, then said, “Tomorrow’s my day off. Let me take you somewhere.”

You had skipped up the stairs to your parents’ porch while his truck had idled at the side of the road until you were safely inside.

What followed the next day left you hungry for more. Tommy took you hiking, then he took you to a small ranch outside Austin because you had mentioned you’d never been on a horse before, but would like to try. You stayed there until the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and a bonfire was blazing next to the barn. You drank beers and watched the stars come out. Then someone pulled out a guitar and Tommy asked you to dance. That night, you got home well past midnight, feeling like you’d been somewhere very far away.

You didn’t see Tommy for a week after that. He was busy at work. You were busy telling your friends from college about him. “Just a bit of fun for the summer,” you said. They either cheered you on, asking for the saucy details, or reacted with, “That’s so typical. Anywhere you go, men fall for you.” You didn’t let that bother you because it wasn’t true. Besides, if anyone was turning heads it was Tommy.

The next Friday, he picked you up later than usual and a broad grin spread across your face when you saw him. He had decided to grow a mustache after you’d admitted to him that you used to have a crush on this handsome teacher in college who happened to have a mustache. Tommy handled your laughter well, said, “Get in the truck, college girl,” and sped off toward an unknown destination. You felt excitement wash over you whenever you glanced over at him. Because you hadn’t been idle that week either. You were wearing a matching set of underwear, a deep red color, delicate, hiding only what was necessary. Because Tommy had admitted to you that he had a thing for women wearing nothing but high heels and lingerie. You hoped just one of those would do the trick too.

That night he took you to a small concert, just a guy with his guitar and a cream-colored cowboy hat up on a brightly lit stage. He sang about the open plains, proposing to his wife, about how women don’t want a man in a suit, they all want a cowboy. And he had a point, you thought, after Tommy dragged you off into a dark corner during a brief break and kissed you until you could hardly breathe. None of the boys at college had ever kissed you like that. For the rest of the night, Tommy was hovering by your side, finding excuses to touch you. And when the concert was over, he led you back to his truck, opened the door for you and said, “Listen, my brother is out of town this weekend. Would you like to come back to my place?”

You didn’t even make it to the bedroom. You made it to the couch in the living room where you sat pretending to be interested in polite conversation while your heart hammered against your ribcage and Tommy kept shifting, trying to hide a growing bulge in his pants. Your friends had warned you, “Don’t sleep with him before the 4th of July. The summer is still so long and he’ll lose interest.” Yeah, there was no way you’d be waiting for almost another month for this.

Tommy made the first move but only because you waited for him to make it. His hand was high up on your thigh when he leaned over you to kiss your neck, and you quickly pushed him back against the couch, straddling him, taking off your shirt. His appreciative gaze told you you had gotten it right. That he later took your panties off with his teeth was just the cherry on top.

He made you come four times that night, twice on the couch (first with his tongue, then with his cock buried deep inside of you), one time in his bed (you rode him until he pushed you off and took you from behind), and one time very softly (with his finger, just before you fell asleep). It was obvious the next morning – he wouldn’t lose interest in you and you would have the best summer of your life.

*******

A week later, you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you hear the doorbell ring. This is only your third weekend going out with Tommy, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t recognized the sound of his pick-up pulling up in front of your house. The memories from last weekend are still fresh on your mind and it makes you giddy with excitement to wonder about what he might have planned for tonight.

When you come downstairs, Tommy is sitting on the living room floor, cross-legged, while your niece is introducing him to all her toy horses. Your sister is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, shooting you a knowing look. You ignore her. Because no matter how much fun you’re having, you’re lightyears away from thinking about Tommy as anything more than a summer fling.

“Ready?” you ask, and when he looks up at you there’s that hunger in his gaze. Self-consciously, you tug at the hem of your very short dress.

“You’re really going out in that?” your sister asks you, and you can hear the thinly veiled jealousy in her voice.

Tommy gets up, slings his arm around your waist, and places a soft kiss on your cheek. “I know I’m supposed to call you beautiful,” he mumbles into your hair, “but you look so fuckin’ hot, darlin’.”

Your face heats up at hearing that pet name. To hide how flustered you are, you tousle your niece’s hair and say, “Don’t wait up for me,” to your sister without looking at her.

The smell of Tommy’s truck engulfs you when you climb inside, and you relax against the seat. It’s funny, really, how a scent you were unfamiliar with just two weeks ago can make you feel so much at ease now. In the driver’s seat, Tommy rolls down the window and lights a cigarette before he looks back toward your house.

“Your sister, is she divorced?” he asks, fidgeting with the lighter.

“Why? You interested?” you tease.

He pulls a face. “She needs to loosen up. Maybe a good fuck would help with that.”

You playfully slap his arm. “You’re impossible,” you laugh. “My brother-in-law takes good care of her.”

He shoots you a doubtful glance, then starts the truck.

The suburbs of Austin are quiet this evening. People are staying inside to escape the lingering heat of the day or they are already in town. You hardly see anyone, hardly pass any other cars as Tommy drives slowly, an old country song playing on the radio.

“You were on my mind all week,” he finally admits, pretending to keep his eyes on the road, but you notice how he glances at you.

You touch your neck, surprised by how hot your skin feels. “Nothing bad I hope.”

He chuckles. “Depends on your definition of bad.”

You briefly close your eyes and let your memory take you back to last Friday, to the image of him kneeling before you while he spread you open on the couch, tongue buried deep inside of you.

“Well.” You clear your throat. “I’m not usually like …” You trail off, suddenly worried you gave him the wrong impression, your head buzzing with your friends’ advice on how to keep him interested in you.

“You don’t usually sleep with a guy after the third date?” Tommy inquires.

“I don’t usually come more than twice in one night.” You whisper the offensive word.

“That’s hardly your fault,” Tommy replies with a shrug. “Those college boys are dull.”

“Who says I’m sleeping with college boys?” you ask.

He glances at you, the words, “oh come on,” written all over his face. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who would go after their dads.”

That comment sparks something in you. “Who says I’m not going after their moms?”

He laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now that’s a sight I’d love to see.”

“Do you think those college boys taught me all those things we did last week?”

Tommy clears his throat. “I think there’s a couple of things I’d like to teach you. Just as long as you promise not to use them on any college boys.”

A brief silence settles over you. Then, “Who taught you how to do all that, by the way?” you ask.

“All what?” Tommy teases.

“You know …” You shrug, but shift excitedly when he puts his warm hand on your naked thigh. His fingers are rough from his daily work, but his touch his so gentle that something melts inside of you.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

You sigh and glance up at the roof of the cabin. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re … what we did last week was the best sex of my life.”

Tommy squeezes your thigh. “There’s a wrong way to take this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head is what I’m saying.”

“It’s too late for that.” He pulls a grimace, brings the car to a stop in front of a red light. “Tell me more.”

“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me where you learned all that.”

“What? Eating pussy?”

“Oh my God.” Your face heats up because of him for the second time that evening. “Yes, that, but also … I’ve never been with a man who was so concerned about my … my pleasure.”

“I was in the Army,” Tommy answers.

“And they teach you that there?” You can’t quite tell if he’s being serious.

“If you’re on leave in some Godforsaken place, and there’s fifty other strappin’ young men you’ll learn fast enough how to please women. Or you’ll spend every night alone.”

You nod slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Oh no, missy, you’re not changing the subject.” Tommy’s hand climbs higher on your thigh; he’s almost touching the hem of your dress now.

You shrug. “You’re right; those college boys are boring. You’re … you know what you’re doing.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you have no one to compare me to.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “No, I’m saying that because it’s the truth.”

Tommy glances at you again. “I don’t like that laughter.”

“Jealous?”

“A bit, yeah,” he admits.

“Don’t be,” you tell him, your voice suddenly soft. “There’s no reason to.”

Tommy pulls off the main road then and onto a dark parking lot. You’re about to make a teasing remark when he turns the car and suddenly the glistening Austin skyline is sitting right there in front of you, like a mirage in the desert.

“Wow,” you breathe and sit up straight.

“Did I promise too much?” Tommy wants to know.

“You didn’t promise me anything,” you remind him.

Your gaze wanders to take in everything, the dark trees shielding you from the road, the city that sits right there as if it wants to tempt you to reach out and touch it, the nearby bridge where a car passes in your direction.

“Wait a minute,” you say slowly. “I know exactly where we are.”

“And where’s that?” Tommy asks, a barely concealed smile on his face.

“I’ve heard stories about you and this place.”

“What kind of stories?” Tommy grabs a can of beer from a cooler on the backseat and opens it with a sharp hiss. “Only good ones, I should hope.” He hands you the can and you take it, but pull a grimace at him at the same time.

“What?” he asks.

“You used to take girls here when we were in high school,” you answer after taking a sip from the beer. “Lots of girls.”

“A handful, at most,” Tommy corrects you.

“More like a handful at the same time,” you mumble.

Now it is Tommy’s turn to ask, “Jealous?”

You take another sip before you answer. “I was back then. I had the biggest crush on you.”

“I’m flattered.” It sounds as if he’s mocking you but the flush on his cheeks tells a different tale.

“You never noticed me, of course,” you go on.

“You were a bit young,” Tommy points out.

“And now I’m not?”

“Now you’re a well-traveled woman who’s back in her little town for summer.” You open your mouth but he goes on. “Now you can tell when a man is takin’ you for a ride and when he’s serious about you. Do you still have a crush on me then?”

You shrug. “A different kind, maybe. I definitely don’t fantasize about you confessing your love for me anymore. Or about us running away together.”

“Why not?” Tommy takes a big swig from the can. “I think you should start doin’ that again.”

“Or I could fantasize about other things, less innocent things.”

Tommy shifts and clears his throat. You can’t help but smile at how little it takes to shift the mood.

“Like what?” he asks, and the beer can cracks in his grip.

“Like how you held me down last week,” you answer, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Or how softly you touched me afterwards.”

“You don’t have to fantasize about those things. Give me somethin’ new.” The slightly commanding edge to his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well … when we were in high school, I used to wonder what it would be like to be taken here by you. What did you do with the girls you drove out here?”

In the distance, you can hear the sound of another car gliding across the bridge.

“Can’t you guess?”

“I was very innocent back then,” you remind him. “My thoughts never went past a small kiss on the lips.”

Tommy licks his. “Yeah, but now? What would you like me to do with a woman I take here?”

The tension has become unbearable and you giggle, searching to relieve it. It doesn’t work. Tommy’s hungry gaze wanders down to where your dress has ridden up your thighs and you inhale sharply.

“I still think a kiss would be nice,” you answer finally, your voice no longer steady at all. “But it doesn’t have to be all that innocent.”

Tommy puts one of his warm hands on your naked thigh, then leans in closer until he can hear your breath hitch. “Where would you like that kiss, darlin’?”

“How about you figure that out for yourself?” you tease him.

His lips are firm against yours, the pressure insistent until you open up for him. He tastes like the beer he just downed, the cigarette he just smoked. He also tastes like Tommy, and you relish how familiar you are with it after just two weeks. You sigh into the kiss, feeling all the tension leave your body. His teasing remarks and slight bravado are backed up by his skills, and you shudder remembering what else he can do with that tongue. You bite his lip to draw it out of him, but he only huffs and pulls back.

“Careful, darlin’,” he warns, his voice deeper now.

“What? Too wild for you?” you ask with a small laugh.

“Don’t get into somethin’ you can’t handle.” The tips of his fingers are under the hem of your dress now and you squirm, but he digs his nails into the soft skin. “See? I haven’t even touched you yet and it’s already too much for you.”

You raise your chin. “It’s not.”

“Have you ever fucked someone in a car?” Tommy asks, his hungry gaze fixed onto your face.

“No,” you reply slowly.

It’s not as if you didn’t know this was where the evening was going. It’s not as if you didn’t want it to go there. But now you’re here, you’re very aware of how exposed you are, even inside Tommy’s truck, and how many laws you would be breaking if you took this any further.

“Relax,” Tommy chuckles. His dark eyes are glistening in the lights of Austin. “You said it yourself: This isn’t my first time doin’ this. I’ve never been caught.”

“Oh, so I’m just another one of your conquests.”

“You can be anythin’ you want to be.” With that, he pushes his hand between your legs and places the tips of two of his fingers straight against your clit.

It’s as if your legs follow their own will when they spread open to give Tommy more room. He doesn’t need it, moving his fingers in a small circle, not breaking eye contact once. When he increases the pressure, one of your hands flies up to grab his shoulder, the other finds purchase against your seat.

“You like that, huh?” Tommy teases.

You nod, pushing your hips forward into his touch.

“Is it worth the risk?” His touch is lighter again, his fingers move slower.

Now it’s your turn to warn him with a, “Careful, Tommy.”

“Why?” His touch is feather-light now.

You move your hand that’s on his shoulder up to his jaw, cupping it. “You don’t want to turn me into a bad girl, do you?” You feel silly when you say it out loud like this, but his eyes light up.

“As I said, you can be anythin’ you want.” The tremor in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“How about we start by turning me into someone who gets fucked in a car?”

Suddenly, he turns his head, biting into the heel of your palm, making you squeal. When your laughter dies down, you notice how his fingers are moving faster again, accompanied by a wet sound.

“God,” Tommy groans. “Look at you. I’ve barely touched you.”

Something tells you that you should be embarrassed by how little it took for him to turn you on, but then he increases the pressure on your clit, and your eyes flutter shut with a moan.

“I can see you overthinkin’ this,” Tommy whispers, so close you can feel his warm breath on your neck and ear. “Don’t. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

“Tommy …,” you groan, and you don’t quite know why. Do you want him to go faster? Slower? Do you want him to make you come?”

He doesn’t allow you a single second to find answers to those questions. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

You roll your hips into his touch, and his other hand grabs your thigh with a firm grasp. “Don’t. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You open your eyes to find his gaze fixed on your face, eagerly licking his lips. In that moment, you don’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as you want him. Out of curiosity, you try to roll your hips again, and he lands a soft slap against your pussy in retribution, one that makes you groan with pleasure.

“Do that again,” you pant.

He hesitates for the briefest of moments, then does as you ask, a little harder this time. You fold, your upper body bending toward your knees, your head fuzzy with pleasure.

“I need you … inside of … of me, Tommy, please,” you stammer. You feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. He only rolls your clit between his fingers, making your hips jerk involuntarily. “Please, Tommy, please.”

“Shhh,” he makes, and kisses your temple. “Later, darlin’. I want to see you come in your panties first.”

You grab his shoulder, feeling yourself tumble toward the edge. His fingers are moving fast enough to drive you insane with pleasure but it’s not quite enough to get you there. And he must know that, judging by the smug look on his face.

“Please,” you whimper.

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice thick with arousal.

You risk a glance down between his legs, the obvious bulge in his jeans making you clench again. Then you press your hand against his moving between your legs, just so the pressure becomes a bit more …

Tommy slaps your hand away. “Harder, Tommy,” he says in a voice mocking yours. “Come on, say it.”

“Harder, Tommy,” you moan immediately.

And you’re rewarded with an orgasm so intense you see stars dance in front of your eyes. Your moans make your ears ring, and when Tommy doesn’t stop, they turn into desperate whimpers. It’s only when you grab his wrist that he stops and you try to catch your breath with a shuddering sob.

“Fuck,” you groan and close your eyes.

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. “Can’t believe you really just came in your panties for me.”

You laugh, your voice breaking when you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful right after an orgasm, you know that?” Tommy goes on, and you want him to keep talking like that more than anything.

“Why?” you ask, then gasp, when he presses his fingers against your clit before removing his hand.

“You’re so perfect,” he answers without hesitation. “I guess I like seein’ you come undone.”

You straighten your dress and look at the glistening Austin skyline in front of you. “You bring out the worst in me, Tommy Miller.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s almost impossible to take the good out of the girl.”

You glance down at his bulge again, lick your lips at the thought that it’s just sitting there, waiting for you. “It’s much easier than you think,” you reply, then begin to unbuckle his belt.

His hips jerk in response. “Careful, darlin’.”

“What? Can’t handle it when the tables are turned?” you tease.

He shoots you a crooked smile. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“Oh, I intend to.” You grip his hard cock and pull it out of his jeans, relishing how his hips jerk again. Your mouth waters when you run your thumb over the glistening tip and hear Tommy inhale sharply. Your short, tight dress makes it hard for you to climb up onto the seat while still preserving some of your dignity, but one glance at Tommy tells you he couldn’t care less. His pupils are dilated and his mouth hangs slightly open while his chest rises and falls rapidly. All that just because you’re holding his cock in your hand. You stroke across the tip again, then move your hand down toward the base and lock your lips to his, capturing a deep groan. Tommy’s eyes flutter shut and you lower your head, closing your lips around his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, one hand immediately tangling in your hair.

You shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it’s hard, even if the bench of the pick-up is bigger than most car seats you’re used to. Tommy doesn’t care. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and you swallow around him, his sharp taste overwhelming. It’s hot in the truck, and you can smell his sweat, smell your own arousal on his hand resting on his thigh. You pull off him until only his tip is still between your lips, then move down again, while he pushes, almost impatiently. Your neck strains uncomfortably, but you want to make this work. For him.

“Stop,” he says after his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag. “I want to be inside of you.”

You straighten your back and smile at him. Your lips feel swollen. “You are, Tommy.”

With his thumb, he swipes away saliva and pre-cum from your bottom lip. “Not like that.”

The way he looks at you, heated, yes, but also with an unguarded softness in his eyes, makes something flutter inside your chest. “What did you have in mind?” you ask.

He leans forward, his mouth so close to your ear his breath tickles your skin. The presumed forbiddenness of what he’s about to tell you makes you hold your breath. “I want you on top of me,” he whispers in your ear, voice low. “Use me however you want.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine and you nod, cheeks burning up. What have you done to deserve a man like him in your life?

You move to climb on top of him, but he stops you, his hand spread across your chest. “I think we’d be more comfortable on the backseat. Don’t you?”

You glance over the front seats at the dark space beyond and nod again. It’s also harder to spot you back there should someone decide to drive into the parking lot.

With practiced movements, Tommy tilts his seat, then climbs over it, briefly struggling with his loose jeans. You grin and follow him, body humming with pleasant anticipation. Tommy pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his shoes and jeans, but when you start to take off your dress, he stops you.

“No. Just your panties.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

You can’t really tell in the dim light but he looks flushed when he searches his trouser pockets for a condom.

When you finally lower yourself onto him, you can feel his chest vibrate with a deep groan under your palms. He jerks and shifts trying to adjust himself, but you hold him down and roll your hips from side to side until he nods. For a while, you both just sit there and look at each other, his hands stroking your sides, your fingers playing with the coarse hairs on his chest. To you, this is the definition of paradise.

You roll your hips in small, slow circles at first, so imperceptible it takes him a while to notice. But when he does, he jerks his hips upwards, urging you to go faster, so you press your knees into his sides.

“No,” you tell him, and when he opens his mouth to protest, you put a raised finger against his lips. “Let me take care of you.” For a second, you think he’ll reject you; but then he nods. “Good,” you say, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip before pulling your hand back. His chest and neck are a deep red now.

It’s not like you’re planning on torturing him forever. You roll your hips a little faster, and with every deliciously lewd sound he makes for you, a little faster still. Soon, your resolve crumbles, and you allow him to stroke your naked thighs, to squeeze your clothed breasts, even to play with your clit. The humid air in the truck clings to your skin, and to Tommy’s, and you’re transfixed by a bead of sweat making its way down his cheek. You capture it with a kiss, then throw back your head with a moan when he rolls your clit under his thumb just so.

That’s when you notice it – the other truck parked next to yours. Was it already there when Tommy pulled into the parking lot? Did it pull up afterwards and you just didn’t notice because you were occupied with other things at the time? Whatever the answer might be, it’s not important right now, not when you notice the other truck isn’t empty.

A man is staring at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. He looks older than Tommy, but not by much, maybe a few years. His face is framed by dark hair and a dark beard, very prominent on his upper lip, less so on his cheeks and chin. His eyes are dark too, hidden in the shadows of the driver’s cabin, but you can feel them on you, watching every twitch of your hips with intent. And he definitely isn’t alone.

You can’t see the person he’s with; she’s kneeling in front of him, hands and knees on the backseat, and he’s holding down her head with his outstretched arm. All you can see is that she has dark auburn hair that the man uses to hold her in place. The back of your own scalp prickles at that sight and you wish someone would hold onto you like that.

You should stop and tell Tommy about the stranger in the car next to yours who is fucking a woman you can’t see while watching you fuck a man he can’t see. Or you should move to the other side of the car where he won’t be able to see you. The least you should do is look away. But you don’t do any of these things. Later, when you’re alone, you’ll ask yourself why, but there is no answer other than not wanting to break the connection you feel to that stranger at this very moment. You’ll think it a weak excuse then, but right here, in Tommy’s truck, it feels like the most sensual experience of your life. You’re both fucking other people and yet it feels like you’re fucking each other.

Beneath you, Tommy groans deeply, and he twitches inside of you. “Keep goin’, darlin’,” he mumbles.

You don’t know if Tommy is watching you or if his eyes are closed, you don’t know if his mouth hangs open, you couldn’t name the shade of red coating his neck. Instead, you watch as the stranger bites his lip, watch as his eyes flutter shut after a particularly deep thrust, watch how he presses the woman’s head down further. You can almost hear his pants and growls, and in turn your breath comes in short bursts. Why doesn’t he look away? And why don’t you?

His thrusts come faster now, and it’s not as if you’re consciously changing your pace too, but suddenly you catch yourself matching the roll of your hips to his. You groan when you see the smirk on his face, and your upper body falls forward, forcing you to brace yourself against Tommy’s chest. Why did that stranger’s smirk set the base of your spine on fire and why did your small moment of weakness make his face darken with resolve?

When you look up again, he has his eyes closed, so you close yours too, and for an instant, just one brief moment, you imagine it’s him thrusting up into you. That vision is so powerful you half expect it to be him below you when you open your eyes again, but it’s Tommy, and he’s watching you.

“Feel so good,” he mumbles. “So, so good.”

A twinge of guilt gets mixed in with that already explosive cocktail of feelings brewing inside of you, and you’re not sure what to do about it. Are you crossing a line with this? You don’t know; you’ve never heard about anyone in a situation like this. All you know is that when you lift your head, the stranger’s gaze hits you like a bolt of lightning. You feel it tingle in your fingers, up and down your legs, on the tip of your nose, and at the back of your neck. But most importantly, you feel it deep in your core that clenches with desperation. He lifts his chin and rolls his shoulders, pushing his chest forward, like he’s showing off to you, and you can’t help it – you dig your nails into Tommy’s skin and he groans with pleasure.

The air in the truck is so heavy it is becoming hard to breathe. You only realize that when you would need it most desperately. Over there, in the other car, the man’s hips suddenly still and you watch as he throws back his head, as a deep, dark flush climbs up his chest and neck. You can almost feel it, how he empties himself into that woman he’s fucking, how he empties himself into you. And before you can fully grasp what is happening, you’re clenching around Tommy hard and fast, making him snap his hips up into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Fuck!” he swears, holding you in place with two hot hands on your sides.

Your orgasm is still making your entire body shake, but it also feels like it doesn’t belong to you at all. You’re praying for the stranger to look at you again, one final time, but he has disappeared. All you can see is his back from time to time, and the woman’s knees that look like they’re trembling, as he goes down on her. You can’t help the jealousy that is clawing at the inside of your stomach.

Tommy pulls you down and gives you a searing kiss. “You’re fuckin’ amazin’, you know that?” You giggle and bury your face against his neck, trying to shake off that strange feeling of desire and yearning. “I’m very sorry I doubted you,” Tommy goes on. “No college boy could’ve taught you that.”

“That good, huh?” you ask, running your hand through his curls.

“Good’s an understatement,” he mumbles.

Carefully, he lifts you off him and takes off the condom. You’re on the other side of the truck now and can barely see the top of the other one. That loss is strangely irritating.

“Take off your dress,” Tommy orders.

You look at him, at his flushed cheeks, at the drunk desire in his gaze. “Ready for round two already?” you tease.

He shakes his head. “No, but I won’t make you wait for me.”

His mouth is hot against your sensitive clit, and you roll your hips up against his tongue eagerly. Above you, the roof of the truck is cast in shadows. You stare up at the boring gray, eyes wide open, because as soon as you close them, you see the stranger, as clear as if he was still right in front of you. And you refuse to give him that kind of power over you.

***

joel miller taglist: @almodovarispunk | @chippedowlmug | @daimyosprincess | @giggly-otter | @girlbossnancy | @hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmsstuff | @jennaispunk | @lexloon | @mandalaur | @mandinlore | @n7cje | @sin-djarin | @swimmjacket

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permanent taglist: @alexturner | @amneris21 | @din-jarhead | @harriedandharassed | @martellthemandalor | nyfeeer | @nobodys-baby-now | @od-ends | @pedrorascal | @pedrostories | @radiowallet-writes | @xoxabs88xox

[sunny44]

Marriage (Part 7)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex!fianceé

Warnings: sickness

Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.

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Months passed, and Mason and I were doing well. After our trip to Spain, we faced some challenges, but with time, we managed to sort things out. The fact that Max wasn't a constant presence in our daily lives made things easier.

Today, Mason had a charity event to attend, and I was accompanying him. I usually don't enjoy such events because the focus tends to be on me, and people don't have many positive things to say about my appearance.

During the event, as we sat at the dinner table, laughing and talking, I noticed Christian, Checo, and Max approaching.

"Good evening," Christian greeted as an event staff member indicated that this was their table.

"Good evening," Mason and I responded simultaneously.

"Hey, everyone," Max said, and luckily, Christian took the seat next to me.

"Hello," I replied, quickly shifting my attention back to Mason.

As they served dinner, Mason's chosen dish arrived, and looking at it made my stomach churn.

"Are you okay?" Max asked, and Mason looked at me.

"Love."

"I need to go to the bathroom." I rushed off and went to the restroom.

I barely made it to the bathroom, and I think I vomited everything I had eaten in the past few days. The door opened, and I felt someone holding my hair.

"Are you okay?" Mason asked, and as I tried to answer, I vomited again.

"I'm sorry," I replied, starting to cry.

"No need to apologize," he said, patting my back. "What happened?"

"I just felt sick out of nowhere, don't know why." I took a deep breath. "I think it might have been something I ate."

"Okay, let's go home."

I stood up, and after washing my mouth with water, we returned to the table to grab our things to leave.

"Are you okay?" Christian asked, and I could see the concerned looks from everyone.

"I'm fine, just felt unwell," I said, feeling a bit dizzy. "Can we leave?"

"Of course," Mason said, grabbing our belongings. "It was nice seeing you again; hope you enjoy the event."

"Thank you," Checo replied.

"Mason," Christian called. "The team really enjoyed your presence at the last GP and asked me to invite you both to attend the Monaco GP next weekend."

"Thank you, we'll consider it," he smiled, taking the tickets.

When we got home, I went straight to take a shower and brush my teeth to go to sleep. Besides feeling a bit dizzy, I was nauseous and tired, needing a good night's sleep.

"How are you feeling?"

"A bit better, but still not great."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Can you make some tea for me?" He agreed and kissed my forehead.

My mind was wandering, and as I waited for Mason to return, I was scrolling through Instagram and came across a photo of Lauren, Declan's girlfriend, with baby Jude. Something clicked in my mind – my period was supposed to have come weeks ago, and now I realized it was late.

"Y/n." I snapped out of my thoughts as he snapped his fingers. "Are you okay? Going to vomit again?"

"No, I just got distracted." He nodded and handed me the tea.

It's safe to say I didn't sleep at all that night.

Bonus scene!

Masonmount instagram stories

“With my love” tagged: Yourusername

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