#silly little ugly car

[greeen-bean]

Wrong, picture is too pretty

[aurorawritestoescape]

SWEET CHERRY || Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,8k

Summary: Joel takes your virginity. Gently, slowly, talking you through it.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, pwp, big not specified legal age gap, virginity loss, insecure reader, soft!Joel, soft!dom vibes, praise kink, size kink, mirror sex, f/m oral, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, aftercare. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description.

A/n: here’s my first virginity loss fic, friends! Hope you will like it❤️ Joel whispers ���thank you’ into @milla-frenchy ‘s ear for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST

Joel is waiting for you in his truck, parked a block away from your house. He told you once that you didn’t want anyone to see you with an old man like himself. You kissed his scruffy cheek that time and assured him that he wasn’t old. Yes, he was older than you, much much older but you were an adult, very mature for your age and also you didn’t care. You loved him.

Joel is a real man, not like the silly boys who always try to pick you up. He looks like a real man, with gray patches in his stubble, his tired piercing eyes and wrinkles around them that you love to kiss so much. His body, big and broad, can easily envelop you whole like a warm cloud. The cloud usually smells like cigarettes and whiskey but you tell yourself, "he smells like a real man," and when you nuzzle his neck, that scent alone makes you soak your panties.

You hop into his truck with the happiest smile on your face, excitement and nerves swirling in your stomach. You’re wearing a red lacy set to show him how mature you are underneath his favorite dress, white with little red cherries on it. Joel always compliments you when you wear it and makes sure to kiss every single cherry on your chest.

Today is the day Joel is going to pop your cherry. You’re going to lose your virginity to the love of your life.

Joel greets you with a soft kiss, and while you’re a little hazy from his taste in your mouth, he starts the car.

“Where are we going?” you ask but you don’t really care. You’d go anywhere with him.

“A motel, baby. Only the best for ya.”

You almost squeal at the idea of you two having a whole room to yourselves. You usually spend time in his truck or he drives you to the outskirts of the town, far from the prying eyes. You love it there— lying on the soft grass and stargazing with his strong arms wrapped around you.

Joel is a man and men have needs so you give him a handie now and then but he never makes you do anything you don’t want to. He’s a gentleman.

He’s getting a room while you’re waiting for him outside of the reception, nervously pacing a spot at the parking lot. What if you fuck up and he sees that you’re just a silly girl, too young for him? What if it hurts too much? You’ve practiced with a toy but you know he’s much bigger.

You’re chewing on your lower lip, widened eyes glued to the ground, and miss the moment when Joel comes up to you.

"Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?" he cups your cheek, searching for your eyes, and you smile, enjoying the warmth of his giant palm in spite of the Texas sun, beating down on you both.

"Just a little nervous," you admit, looking up at his handsome face. Joel gives you an understanding smile and his gruff voice immediately calms you down when he says,

"Don't be, darlin’. I'll be gentle with you. And we can stop whenever you want."

“‘k,” you mumble with a nod and take a deep breath. You want it and you know, it will be perfect.

The motel room smells like cigarette smoke and old furniture but you don’t mind. You don’t care about its peeling off wallpaper, the flickering lights in the bathroom or the stained bedding with a pattern that looks like spider webs. You’re staring at it with disgust on your face, wondering who would choose such an ugly cover.

Two big hands on your hips bring you back from your thoughts and move you around. Joel locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing and curious.

“You’re so quiet today, babygirl. Sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes, Joel. Please,” you reply hastily, scared he’ll change his mind.

He gives you a little smile and pinches your chin between his thick fingers. His touch, his scent, his gaze, everything about him washes away your fears and worries. He’s huge and safe and you trust him to make this day special. For the both of you.

He leans down and kisses you, his lips warm and slightly chafed, his stubble and scruffy beard rubbing your sensitive skin but you’re enjoying him too much to notice. Like a little flower you are reaching up to your only sun - him. You’re drunk on the sensation of his tongue, licking assertively into your moaning mouth. Your pussy tingles and you feel yourself gush more and more. With Joel’s lips brushing the corner of your mouth you hear him whisper, “Ready, sweetheart?”

You nod, rubbing your cheek against his and then follow him to the bed, your little hand in his, giant, warm.

Joel sits down and you stand between his spread thighs. You nervously shift on your feet under his dark gaze as he looks you up and down and bucks his hips. His bulge is huge and you swallow loudly.

“Can I take your dress off, babygirl?”

With a quiet ‘yes’ you turn around so he could unzip you. You’re facing a mirror now, hanging on a wardrobe door, eyes locked with your reflection. Fear and anxiety paint your features so you take a deep breath again, not wanting to look like a scared little mouse. You want him to see you ready for what you two are about to do.

You giggle when Joel’s knuckles graze your soft skin, tickling you, gliding down along your back as your body erupts in goosebumps. Joel acknowledges your reaction with a soft chuckle and then his warm lips press to your exposed waist. You smile, helping him take your dress off.

“Fuck,” Joel mumbles as you turn around to face him, “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he apologises for the cursing as his obsidian eyes are gliding over your body, wrapped in the red lace as if you’re a present gifted to him. “You’re making my head spin. Are ya wearin’ it for me, baby?”

You reply with a shy ‘yes’ and he groans, palming himself.

“Naughty girl. Killing me over here,” he fake complains, wetting his lower lip.

His lustful gaze, barely noticeable shaking of his gruff voice, his bulge growing in his jeans— all the signs of his desire make your heart sing and core burn with need.

“Please, Joel.” You press your thighs together, desperate for any pressure, and he nods,

“Yes, babygirl, I know, I know. Let’s make you feel good.”

His palms placed on your hips turn you around, so you’d face the mirror again, and he pulls you down on his lap. You bite your lip, when his stiffness twitches under your left asscheek, and take a sharp breath, being reminded of how huge his cock is. Will you be able to take him?

As if reading your mind, Joel rasps against your shoulder,

“I’m big, honey, but ain’t nothing to worry about. We gonna get ya ready, yeah?”

“Yes, Joel, I trust you.”

“‘s good, babygirl. Jus’ relax and let me do the work.”

You whimper, imagining ‘the work’ he’s about to do. With a hum Joel places his hands on your inner thighs and spreads them apart. You lift your head from his hands to the reflection of you two in the mirror. You’re sitting on his lap, so small in comparison with his huge frame. He’s nuzzling the crease of your neck, and your nipples perk up under the thin fabric of your bra. His scent, his body make your pussy melt into your panties and your fear you’re going to soak them through and stain his jeans.

Your gasp breaks the silence in the room when you see and feel his hand slither to the apex of your thighs. With one arm wrapped around your waist, Joel cups your clothed pussy with the other hand and you breathe out his name.

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m right here. Fuck, ya soaked.” He gently sucks on your neck, stroking your seam with his thumb through a red lace, covering your pussy. You mewl and wriggle in his lap impatiently and he growls, when his cock twitches under your ass.

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby.”

His thumb slides under your panties and he pulls the gusset to the side exposing your wet folds to his and your eyes in the mirror.

He’s never gone that far, never seen you like this and your whole body vibrates with a heady mix of excitement and nerves. Your cheeks burn as embarrassment adds to all the emotions that are swirling in your stomach. You’ve never been that exposed for anyone, no one has ever witnessed your wet desire, coating your folds. As if sensing your discomfort Joel starts whispering words of reassurance in your ear, his gaze set on your glistening cunt in the mirror.

“Look at this pretty pussy, fuck, she’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

You whine, trying to close your legs but he stops you, his hand pressing on your inner thigh, rubbing your skin there.

“She’s crying for me, see? My cock’s cryin’ for her too. And I’ll make her feel good, baby. Gonna make her drool even more.”

You nod, fluttering your eyes shut at the sensations of his thick fingers grazing your hardening clit just barely. Suddenly Joel slightly bites on your earlobe and rasps,

“Open your eyes, babygirl. Want you to see how I’m gonna make you come.”

You do what he says and see the hand rise up from your belly to your chest and he pulls your bra down, exposing your breasts. He groans at the sight of your pebbled nipples and kneads your tit with his warm palm.

The other hand returns to your soft pussy and he starts stroking your twitching clit with his thumb.

He’s playing you like his guitar, making you sing for him with a calloused pad of his finger, brushing over your bud up and down, up and down, like it’s a string of his favorite instrument, at the same time twitching your nipples. His movements are slow and gentle but precise and determined, and you’re reduced to a moaning crying mess in a matter of seconds.

“Please, please, please— ,” you’re begging, barely breathing, lips brushing his scruffy cheek. You can’t watch him and you in the mirror anymore, it’s too much for your mind, for your eyes. You try to pace yourself, nuzzling his face.

“Yes, baby, I’ll make you come, soon. So soon,” he replies to your pleas as his tongue licks your lower lip and you open your mouth, letting him in. He’s kissing you passionately as he shifts his hand a little, making his fingers cover your sopping hole while his thumb is playing with your clit.

Joel traces your entrance with his middle finger and then slowly pushes it in. You gasp at the sensation and your walls clench hard around it, as he’s inserting it to the knuckle.

“Already warm and wet. Good girl.”

You dare to glance in the mirror and you see him plunge his digit in and out of your tight weeping hole, slowly, with a steady rhythm.

“Have ya been practicing like I asked you, babygirl?”

“Yes,” you reply with your brows pulled together and mouth slightly opened.

“Yeah, I see that,” he smiles into your cheek, “ya taking me well. We can add another one.”

As soon as he says it, his index finger joins the middle one in your slicked up channel and you feel the stretch, though it burns just a little, and you smile with relief.

Joel continues fingering you, and, to your horror, you hear squelching sounds, coming from your pussy. The pleasure is growing but you mewl with embarrassment, “Oh, no.”

Joel’s quick to comfort you, whispering in your ear,

“‘s a great sound, babygirl. Means she’s ready for me. All this juice gonna help me slide right inside ya.”

You nod and tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as his movements take you higher with every pump. Everything disappears, what’s left is only you and him, his fingers in your pussy, his broad chest at your back, his thick cock pulsating under your ass. You're so gone with ecstasy, that you don’t notice the third finger inserted into your widening hole.

“Gonna make you come now, sweetheart,” Joel gruffs and curves his fingers. He starts shaking his hand, not moving his digits in and out but keeping them hooked into your pussy, making vibrations with his hand. He’s hitting your clit with the heel of his palm and soon you unravel, crying and shaking so hard he has to keep you on his lap, holding you with his strong arm wrapped around your torso. Your face is twisted in euphoria but you don’t see it, your surroundings morph into a burst of fireworks behind your eyelids. Of course you had good orgasms before but never such a hard one.

Joel hums with satisfaction, kissing your temple, your cheek, your half opened lips, mumbling,

“That’s my girl… yeah, c’mon… god, she’s squeezing me hard… perfect little pussy.”

He’s embracing you tight through the aftershocks and when you finally still, he cups your sloppy cunt and holds it, keeping it warm as his whole body slightly sways from side to side. The motion is lulling you to sleep. Pleasant tingling in your body, his arms, which are giving you comfort, his heart, beating with a steady rhythm against your back, all of it makes your eyes close and you fall into darkness.

Joel wakes you up with a kiss on your lips as if you’re his Sleeping Beauty. You’re lying on the motel bed and your Prince Charming’s hard cock is poking your thigh. Joel got undressed while you were out and as you sit up, rubbing your eyes, you can’t help but ogle his tan chest with dark hair, gray patches here and there, his broad shoulders, his soft belly and a gorgeous cock. It’s long and thick and your pussy clenches with a mixture of fear and arousal. His red wet tip makes you want to wrap your lips around it but you’re too shy to ask.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mumble. “How long was I asleep?”

“Don’t worry. Just a few minutes. And my eyes are over here,” Joel says with a chuckle and you realize that you’ve been talking to his cock the whole time. You smile, raising your eyes to his, feeling your cheeks heat up and he rubs your shoulder,

“‘s ok, sweetie. You can look.”

He brings his hand to his bobbing member and gives it a few pumps. You see a clear drop of precum bead and involuntarily lick your lips.

He notices it and smirks, “oh, baby.”

You get bold and ask with your eyes only, they dart from his cock to his eyes.

“Yes, baby, you can play with it a little. But not too long. ‘m afraid I’ll come too soon like that and we need to put it in your needy pussy first, yeah?”

You nod and hastily sit on your hinges, getting comfortable. You hover your mouth over his glistening mushroom and then wrap your lips around it. Your tongue gently dances over the slit as you drink his salty juice. The taste sends a new surge of arousal to your entrance and you shift on your knees, feeling wetness pool between your folds and thighs. Like a shark feeling blood, Joel brings his hand to your ass and glides his palm over the globes of your cheeks and then slides his hand between your messy folds. You push your hips back, rubbing yourself against his palm and at the same time taking him further into your mouth, licking the underside sloppily, drooling over his stiffness.

“Oh, fuck, hnggg,” you hear Joel’s groan and then he slightly slaps your folds, getting your attention.

“Easy, baby, or I’m gonna feed ya all of my cum. And we want it here today,” he gives your pussy another light slap from the back and you moan, pulling away from his cock.

The next second he sits up and hastily says,

“I want one more orgasm from you. And we’ll be good to go.”

His hands gently push you to lie down and he helps to slide your bra and panties off. You take a sharp breath when the air of the room hits your soaked folds, your pussy getting completely exposed to him.

“Look at you,” Joel’s dark gaze is taking in your naked breasts, a heaving belly, and a puffy cunt, dripping for him onto the sheets.

He brings his calloused palm to your throat and slowly glides it down, barely touching your chest, grazes your perked up nipples, then moves down to your stomach and the mound and then slithers between your thighs. He cups your pussy again and you whimper when he places his index and middle finger on your folds and presses your clit between them with his thick digits. He starts rubbing it over your pussy lips, moving his hand up and down, and you moan. Your eyes roll back as you concentrate on another orgasm building but soon they open wide when you feel his mouth on your folds and clit.

He flicks the peeking out bud with his tongue and sucks on it. Then he pulls his fingers away, gets comfortable between your thighs and starts licking you in earnest, rubbing your clit with the flat of his wet hot tongue. You clutch his graying curls with your fingers and hold on to him, afraid to float away, because of the immense pleasure he’s giving you.

“Ahh, Joel— please— so good— oh my god,” a string of moans and pleas is leaving your mouth, but he slaps the side of your ass and growls into your throbbing cunt,

“Wanna come? Take it from me, babygirl, c’mon.” With that he opens his mouth with his tongue sticking out and starts moving your hips up and down, as your pussy is grinding against his strong muscle. Then his hands leave you and you whine.

“I said, use me. Use my mouth, babygirl,” Joel commands and, desperate for another release, you swiftly follow his order and begin moving your hips up and down, making your dripping cunt roll against his tongue, lips, mustache and scruffy chin, chasing your high, feverishly.

A content smile tugs at his slicked up lips when he sees you take control, using him for your pleasure, and he hums with satisfaction when soon you are wriggling on the bed, moaning loudly, as waves of euphoria ripple through your body. You almost sob from the intensity, not able to believe how hard you come with him, as if everything before was bleak and dull and now you finally see the colors around you.

“Joel,” you murmur, your voice is barely audible, and he climbs up your body before taking you in his big strong arms. He’s hot and big against you, all around you, and you nuzzle his hairy chest for a few seconds, catching your breath and resting.

He mumbles his praise against your temple, “my good girl—did so good—came so hard for me.”

You smile and weakly raise your face to his,

“Am I ready, Joel? I want—.”

“Yes, baby? What do you want?”

“You know.”

He pinches your chin between his fingers, keeping your eyes locked with his.

“Wanna hear you say it? Need you to say it.”

“I want you inside me?”

“Are you asking?” he breathes out a chuckle.

“No, Joel. I want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus, babygirl. Ok.”

His face gets serious and he moves to the top of the bed with you in his arms and leans against the headboard. You try to slide off him but he manhandles you to straddle his thighs.

“Jus’ sit in my lap like that,” he gruffs, pressing his chest to yours. You look down and see his cock, nesting between your bodies. The tip smears precum on your belly and you whine with desire.

“It’s so big, Joel. What if I can’t take it?”

“You can. I stretched your pussy good. And we’ll stop if it hurts, ‘k?”

You nod and lightly roll your hips against his hard cock and heavy balls under your entrance.

“Hngg, stop it, little minx. You’ll make me spill the goods too early.”

You give him a mischievous smile and then peck his lips to apologize for your naughtiness but he doesn’t let you pull away and holds you tight, his tongue breaching your lips and stealing your kiss with hunger and love. So much love that you drown in it, in the feeling of his body, his hot skin pressed to yours, his mighty manhood throbbing just for you.

Not breaking the kiss, Joel lifts your body up with his arm around your waist and his hand guides his fat cock to your entrance. Soon you feel his tip nudge your wet hole and he slowly lowers you, spreading your folds with his fat head.

“Hnggg,” Joel roars and his chest vibrates against your squished up breasts. You take a sharp breath as his tip is filling you. A thought flashes in your mind, “it’s not that bad, I can take him,” but he keeps going and soon you’re whining, as your walls spread, your pussy trying to adjust to his girth and you start panting against his lips.

“Joel, it hurts,” you mewl and he stops spearing you with his cock.

“Shhh… you’re doin’ so good, babygirl. Jus’ need to go a little deeper.”

He kisses your lips, you both breathing heavily, as you are trying to fight the dull pain, licking at your core, and Joel is gathering all his strength to keep himself from plunging his cock as deep as possible.

“Fuck, ya tight. Never felt anything like this sweet cunt, baby,” he groans through gritted teeth, “Shoulda done it earlier. Coulda been balls deep in you every day by now.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper at his filthy words but the fire burning your insides is slowly morphing into pleasure, as he begins fucking up into you, getting deeper inch by inch. Your nails dig into his biceps, the sensation so overwhelming you’re afraid you might faint. Joel’s lips brush your cheek as he mumbles through the panting,

“Can you— hnggg, sit on my cock, sweetie, don’t wanna hurt ya, c’mon,” he grunts as his hands roam your body, sliding to your ass as he spreads your cheeks and you feel the air cooling your soaked folds and holes.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll try.”

You’d do anything for him right now. In need of his support, you take his face between your sweaty palms and search for his hazy eyes. Your thumbs rub his scruffy cheeks as you’re getting lost in his dark lustful eyes and, knowing that your pussy is close to swallowing his cock fully, you take a final step. You lower your body, piercing your crying cunt with his manhood. His big balls twitch, flush with your ass, and you gasp at the fullness you’re experiencing. You both moan loudly before Joel’s mouth crushes against yours and he’s drinking your whimpers, returning them with his own grunts.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby, you’re perfect for my cock,” Joel is praising you but the adrenaline coursing in your veins pulls you down into the pits of euphoria and you barely hear him. Your gaze falls to the place where you two are joined, your folds spread widely around his glistening base, surrounded by dark wet hair, and the sight, the sensation make you bite your lower lip till you taste metal on your tongue. You flutter your eyes shut but Joel calls for you,

“Baby, come back to me.”

You look at his face twisted in pleasure as he grunts, “Gonna fuck you now, darlin’. Can’t wait anymore.”

You nod and his hands slither under your ass before he starts moving you up and down his cock, your tight cunt massaging it. His strong arms lift you so easily, his muscles bulging as you’re holding on to them.

Joel’s forehead is covered in sweat, some of his curls sticking to it, as he’s groaning and swearing, pushing his member into you again and again.

You softly mewl with every kisshis tip is giving to your cervix, and you revel in the pleasure when he reaches something hidden and ecstatic inside your core.

“Gonna come, Joel!” you almost cry out, as he is taking you higher.

“Not yet, babygirl. Want you to fuck yourself on my cock. Ride me.”

“How? I— I don’t know if I can,” you breathe out, your eyebrows pulled together, as your gaze darts between his eyes.

“Jus’ bounce on it, like that.” Joel grabs your hips with his bear hands and shows you how to do it, guiding you. You follow his movements and soon you’re lifting and lowering your hips, pussy sliding up and down his huge manhood, as Joel leans back on the headboard and watches you work his cock, his eyes hazy but fully focused on you.

To steady yourself you brace your hands on his broad chest and scratch his skin with your nails, when your pussy starts clamping around a man’s cock for the first time in your life. You sob through moans, as euphoria is shaking your body and Joel’s hands keep you from falling off him, when you’re trembling hard in his lap.

“Yes, yes—I’m here, baby—I gotch ya—ahhh, keep squeezing my cock— your little cunt is drooling all over me— shit, gonna come—“ he chokes on his words and you suddenly feel warmth spread inside your contracting pussy. It’s such a great sensation when he fills up your already full cunt and you don’t stop jumping on his cock, churning his warm load deep inside you, squelching sounds mixing with Joel’s grunts and your whimpers.

Your juices and his cum soon cover your folds and asscheeks and his thighs get cold and slippery, coated with your joined liquids. You feel filthy and it turns you on so much, that it makes your head spin.

“Joel, hold me, please,” you beg, lowering your torso on his heaving chest and he squirts the last ropes of his cum inside you, his big arms wrapped around your heated up body.

You both descend from your highs, holding each other close, his chest making your whole body rise and fall, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

You’re quiet, completely spent, your limbs tingling as you’re focused on the sensation of your body — a twitch of his cock still buried deep in your cunt, your pussy slightly sore clutching his softening manhood, his skin hot against yours, his warm hands gliding over your back.

“My good girl. So brave. Took me so well.”

You smile at his praise, sighing happily, trying to memorize this moment forever.

“How are you feelin’? You hurtin’?” Joel asks.

“No,” you softly reply, “a little sore but it’s ok.”

“Good. Good,” Joel coos, “Let’s clean you up.”

You nod and he carefully lifts you off his lap, as his cock slides out of your stretched hole, and a trickle of his creamy cum tickles your folds. He lays you down on the bed and gets up with a grunt to get you a wet towel.

When he’s back, you want to take it from him but he shakes his head and cleans you up himself, his movements slow and gentle. His hands wrapped in the soft fabric glide over your skin, attentive to how oversensitive you are.

You watch him take care of you, hearts in your eyes, and you almost physically sense love expand in your chest. Joel’s taking more and more space inside you with every moment your gaze is set on him, every second you breathe. A thought creeps up in your mind, “what if he leaves me? What if this magic that happened between us never repeats?” Tears well up in your eyes as fear grips your heart. But you blink them away hurriedly, scared to worry him. Today is perfect and you want it to stay this way.

You reach your arms to Joel and he joins you on the bed, embracing you in his strong arms. You raise your face to his and he kisses you, wiping away your fears with every caress of his lips.

“Thank you, babygirl. For giving yourself to me. My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your lips.

You hug him as tight as you can, and not believing how lucky you’re, you whisper, nuzzling his neck, “Thank you for making my first time perfect, Joel.”

Soon you fall asleep in his arms, wishing to be with him forever.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback motivates me so much!😘💕

Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @fruityreads

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.1K]

Jealousy, reassurance and Steve. Prompts: “why didn’t you tell me where you were?” And “I’m not being overdramatic.” Was this supposed to be a 500 word prompt? Yes, we don’t talk about it.

You hated it, you hated it, you hated it.

It was a gross feeling, an awful sensation that felt thick like tar, clinging to your chest, enough of it to make you ache and feel heavy. It crawled up your throat, making you feel too hot and by the time you’d spotted your boyfriend in the food court, standing talking to a pretty blonde girl, the lunch you’d brought him had went cold in your hand.

Anxiety? Perhaps not. Jealousy? You hated that that emotion seemed to sit better on your tongue, bitterly so.

And when Steve waited for you in his car later, the engine running and the heating on full so it was warm enough for you, jealousy still clung to you in an ugly way.

“Hey, babe,” Steve greeted as you slumped into the passenger seat. He was reading the back of a new cassette tape, absent minded as he scratched off the price sticker and leaned over to give you a kiss. He didn’t seem to notice - or mind - that you turned and gave him your cheek. “How was work?”

You hummed, non committal and fussed with your bag, pushing it down into the footwell. “Was fine,” you mumbled. “Yours?”

You wondered if this was when Steve admitted to rendezvousing with a girl in secret, if he’d try to deny it. The logical part of your brain told you that there was absolutely nothing secret about meeting someone in the middle of the busy food court on a Saturday afternoon, but the jealous bubble that had grown inside of you was having none of it. It grew and grew, a blue-green ball that took up all the cracks and crevices between your ribs until it felt like you’d burst from the pressure.

Steve was backing out of the parking space, his arm thrown around your headrest and he nodded, eyes on the rear window. “Yeah, yeah, it was alright. Got busy after lunch so it wasn’t too slow, y’know?”

“Right.” You nodded, suddenly finding breathing a weary task. Your throat was tight, your eyes hot. Lunch. “I, uh— I came to visit you on mine. My lunch.”

Steve blinked, chancing a quick glance at you now he was on the straight road back to Hawkins. He blinked in surprise. “You did? I hate that I missed you, babe, m’sorry.” His hand found your knee and squeezed. “I must’ve been in the back or something.”

You didn’t say anything. Not for a few minutes. Because Steve was your first real relationship you didn’t know the rules and you didn’t know what to say and you’d never, ever experienced the kind of fizzing, hot dread that was clawing at your throat—

“Did you go out at lunch?”

Steve turned to look at you once more, a fleeting glance with knitted brows and a small, if not unsure, smile on his face. You were being weird. Your voice was quieter than normal, soft and formal all at once and you hadn’t put your hand over his as it sat on your knee still.

“Yeah,” he told you, wondering why you asked. “I forgot mine at home, ran to the food court and grabbed some fries.” His thumb rubbed over you. “Must’ve been when I missed you, huh?”

“Mmm,” you hummed again, head ducked, fingers tangled in your lap. Steve was frowning. “Did you go back to the store? After?”

“What?” It was becoming harder to concentrate on the road. The street lights flickered to life as the evening set in and the orange-white glow of them made the wet in your eyes shine. Steve was alarmed, wondering why on earth you looked like you were close to tears. “Baby— after I got my fries? I mean, yeah?”

Steve would’ve almost missed the way your bottom lip trembled if he hadn’t slowed for the stop sign. “Honey? What? What’s going on?”

You broke then, watery eyes and lip tucked between your teeth as you tried not to let out the audible sob that was stuck in your throat. It was a silly thing, to feel such intense emotions, especially over a scenario you knew little about, but that heavy feeling had clawed at your chest all day and you felt smaller than you ever had, too hot and itchy to be in your own skin and something - somehow - had to get out—

“Baby,” Steve was more than alarmed now, wide eyed as he pulled over to the side of the road, the wheel turning dramatically in his hands as he killed the engine and unbuckled his belt. “Baby, what is it, huh? C’mon, talk to me—“

He was leaning over the console to you, brown eyes shining with concern as one big hand chased your wet cheek, pushing at you softly until you lifted your chin for him. Steve made a soft noise at the sight of you, glassy eyed and huffing as you tried to tamper down your shaky breaths.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were?” It wasn’t what you had planned to say, but it was the only thing that made it past your lips in the moment.

The boy’s face crumbled in confusion, brows creased. “At lunch? I did…what?”

You sniffed, immediately feeling silly but you were too far gone, too deep in. You swiped hastily as your cheeks, too meanly for Steve’s liking and he chased your fingers with much kinder ones.

“You said you went back to the store,” your breath hitched, a shuddering thing as you pulled in a gasp of air. God, this was so silly, this was so stupid. Your body burned. “After your lunch— you said you went back.”

Steve looked at you a little plainly, the little gears that most men had in their heads whirring into overdrive. He looked confused, grasping at your words and trying to decipher what they meant. “Yeah?” He tried weakly.

“But I saw you,” another hiccup, another fresh tear that you managed to catch before Steve did and the boy frowned deeper when you pulled your face away from his touch. “I saw you in the food court, you were talking to a girl.”

You were very aware of how childish the sentence was as it left your lips. But you were tired, defeated. You’d held onto the jealousy and fear and anxiety all day and now that it was out, you were exhausted, shoulders slumping and mouth twisted into a pout that Steve really wanted to be able to kiss away.

But recognition settled over him at your words and his lips fell into a small ‘o’ of understanding. He tried not to smile, he really did, knowing how much it would upset you further, so he pressed his lips together and nodded before speaking.

“You saw me with Tammy Thomson.” It wasn’t a question.

You sniffed and shrugged, suddenly playing indifference now you knew the blondes name.

“Baby,” Steve tried again, bringing his hand back up to sweep along your jaw, his thumb pushing gently against your cheek. It was a fond touch, dripping in affection and you so wanted to lean into it. “She was an old school friend.”

You scoffed. You might have not went to Hawkins High like Steve had, but you’d had enough conversations with Robin and Eddie to know the list of people that had crushed hard on Steve. Tammy Thomson’s name had come up on serval occasions.

“You weren’t going to tell me you ran into her?” You mumbled, staring at your skirt.

Steve floundered for a second, lips moving without sound as he tried to find the right words before settling on the honest to gods truth. “I actually kinda forgot.” He shrugged, apologetic. “I wasn’t thinking about it. It, uh, it wasn’t an important part of my day, y’know?”

Embarrassment washed over you in a hot, sticky curtain, leaving you just as teary as before. You hated what you were insinuating with your words, what you were accidentally accusing Steve of. He wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, despite what your brain had told you all day. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“God— urgh,” your eyes watered again but you squeezed the heel of each palm to them before the tears could fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “I, I’m sorry. Can you take me home? Please.”

The car drop sat at the side of the road, the inside cooler now the engine wasn’t running and you hated the idea of someone you knew driving by and seeing your tear stricken face - or worse, thinking that at this was the spot you’d chosen to make out with your boyfriend.

Although, you’d much prefer that right now.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s voice was achingly soft and closer than before as he moved in. His hands found your wrists and gently pulled them away from your face, easing the pressure you’d put on your poor, swollen eyes. “C’mon now, talk to me? Please?”

You blinked as the world and the boy came back into view, lip still trembling and you felt too soft, too delicate, way too vulnerable. Steve’s gaze was just as gentle though, kinder than you thought you deserved.

“I shouldn’t have—“

Accused? Spied? You weren’t sure what you were going to say but Steve interrupted you regardless. “Wanna know what I was thinking about?” His thumbs stroked over the soft skin on the inside of your wrists as he held them between you both. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You.”

You could’ve cried again if Steve had let you, but he seemed to sense the stuttering of your chest and he smiled, a little teasing, a lot loving. “You, fries - of course, how much I hate my boss, where I wanted to take you out for dinner tomorrow, how I heard about this new movie I thought you’d like.”

Adoration filled the cavernous space your jealousy had once been.

“I think about you a lot,” Steve told you, grimacing playfully like it was something shameful and secretive. It made you smile, head falling forward to rest against your joined hands. “It’s sick, actually, right?”

You nodded, face still hidden and joining in on the joke because you didn’t know what else to do or say. Not in the car at least. Maybe, you thought, when you got back home you’d invite the boy in and cover him in kisses. Apologetic ones, loving ones, doting ones, from head to toe if you had to.

“You okay?” He asked, more serious now. “Can you look at me?”

How could say no?

You lifted your head and Steve tutted, lips pressed thin as he took in your puffy eyes and tear streaked cheeks. He used your hands in his to wipe away the damp tracks, so much softer than you’d done before, making you treat yourself with so much more care and kindness.

He raised his brows, waiting on an answer.

“I’m okay,” your voice was raspy from emotion and you coughed, embarrassed. “Steve, I’m sorry.”

Steve shook his head shrugging. “It’s okay. Just— just talk to me next time, yeah? Don’f tiptoe around what’s making you sad, babe. I wanna be able to fix it for you.”

You nodded, still aching with all the emotion, both good and bad. The self conscious side of you couldn’t help but ask, “do you think I was being overdramatic?”

Steve’s lip quirked up, something he managed to tame quickly. He frowned, leaning in to press a kiss at your hot cheek. “You?” He murmured into your skin, nose pressed to the soft skin by your mouth. “Overdramatic? My crybaby? Since when?”

There was laughter laced in his words, a light teasing you’d taken months to get used to but you recognised it for what it was. Fondness, familiarity, a way to break the heavy tension and make you smile.

So you did, lips lifting and brows crinkling all at the same time. “I’m not being overdramatic!” You watched Steve grin as he started the car again, looking both ways before pulling back into the lane. “I thought— I thought you were—”

“What?” Steve glanced at you, grinning. He caught your hand and lifted it to his lips, stamping a kiss on the back of it and held it on your lap, not letting go. “You thought I was gonna get my fries and runaway with Tammy Thomson? Never to return?”

You didn’t say anything, you just say back in the chair and tried not to pout, because, yeah, that’s exactly what you thought. You just hated how stupid it sounded coming from someone’s mouth and not your own head.

“And leave you?” Steve tutted, head shaking as he kept up the playful tone. There was a lot of love on his eyes when he looked over at you. “Baby, c’mon now.”

[charliemwrites]

Bark, bark, snort, grrr

(The ex idea comes from @st-el-la-luna, absolutely brilliant darling ❤️)

Content: Voyeurism, Mild Injury, Possessive/Protective Behavior

Johnny, for all his quirks and… weirdly human tendencies, is an incredibly good sport. Particularly about letting you put him in Santa hats and wreaths, ugly sweaters and snow socks. He poses for every picture so dutifully, looks so serious and annoyed up until you plant smooches on his head or cheek and that silly lupine grin comes out.

He’s been your perfect little heater ever since the heater started to go on the fritz. It keeps shutting off or turning itself lower than it’s meant to be, leaving you shivering before you realize something is amiss. It’s not so broken that you’re willing to interrupt your solitude to have someone come fix it. But you’re grateful for a big fluffy body laying on your feet or snuggling under the blankets with you.

As the winter sets in, you tromp out with him in the snow a lot. Often use his sturdy shoulders and better footing as a crutch to navigate without slipping. He always gets fussy when you do, dancing in his feet and snuffling at your coat, urging you up.

One morning you wake up after a fresh snow, expecting that you’ll have to clear the driveway and porch - only to find it freshly shoveled and salted. It would spook you, except you’re sure Johnny would have woken you up barking his head off if it was anything to worry about.

Your mother calls about holiday plans in mid-November. You hedge around any commitments, hand buried in Johnny’s fur, saying that you don’t want to leave your precious pup at home.

The combined efforts of both your parents, your sister, and a cousin you actually like makes you cave eventually though. They promise it’ll just be family, that you can even bring Johnny. You grimace at that - debate getting him some meds from the vet…. But he’s been doing better on walks in town.

The weird assurance that it’ll “just be family” should have been a red flag.

When you arrive at your parents’ place, several gift bags and Johnny (with a bow tie on his collar) in tow, you find your ex there. On the couch. Next to your least-favorite cousin and your sister.

“What’s he doing here?” you ask sharply.

“Well, you two were engaged—”

Johnny’s ears shoot straight up as you tense.

“Yeah, and then he cheated.”

“People make mistakes. If you would just hear him out.”

“I don’t care what he has to say. And I don’t care what you have to say either.”

You drop the bags in a heap and click your tongue for Johnny. He falls in with you instantly, leaning up against your side. You get all the way to your car before you hear your ex’s voice calling your name.

You try to hurry, but there’s ice and the last thing your dignity can take is slipping right now. Luckily, you have the perfect deterrent before you ex can even get within arm’s reach.

Johnny snarls, so deep and loud you feel it in your own chest.

“Jesus!” your ex cries, coming up short. “Where did you get that thing?!”

“Johnny picked me. More than I can say for you.”

“Don’t be like that, I’m picking you now.”

“Oh, did your girl best friend lose all her daddy’s money?”

His cheeks light up neon. Huh. Got it in one.

Then he dares another step and Johnny lunges. You just get a hold of his harness but it’s enough ward your ex off a bit more.

“He’s very loyal,” you add. “Also more than I can say for you.”

“Baby, just listen—”

“An upgrade all around, I think.”

You round your car, climb into the driver’s seat with Johnny standing guard, then let him clamber over you into the passenger’s seat. At the front door, most of your family is gathered and staring. You flip off your ex one last time before peeling out of there.

The tears come after you’ve gotten back home. Johnny licks your face until you stop crying, then leads you inside. The two of you curl up on the couch together, his face buried in your stomach. You fall asleep there and dream of a man’s voice whispering love and comfort in your ear.

—

A week later, your ex shows up.

You’re out in the yard with Johnny, watching him zoom through the snow and laughing as he speeds by. Your ex must hear you because he comes round the side of the house.

And Johnny. Goes. Ballistic.

Literally, he hits your ex like a missile, taking him into the snow and snarling like something from hell. He’s got his teeth in your ex’s designer coat, ripping it to shreds. It’s frightening; you’ve never felt safer.

“Johnny!” you call. A growl. You walk closer, kick a bit of snow at both of them. “Johnny, down! Leave it!”

And he does, finally does, though not without taking a good chunk of fabric with him. Your ex, wide-eyed and pale, panting, doesn’t bother to say a word. He scrambles away while Johnny barks after him, all canine and spit.

You hum as he returns to you, fabric in his mouth, tail wagging.

“What a good boy,” you coo, taking the partial sleeve and inspecting it. Louis Vuitton, it looks like. “Very good. My perfect boy.”

You drop his prize into the snow and snort as he wastes no time peeing on it. Well, that’s gonna stay there. Forever.

“C’mon bud, you deserve a treat.”

Johnny follows you happily inside, a new pep in his step.

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[dear-ao3]

the 2024 formula 1 silly season and drama master post, part 2 (part 1 here)

Hello and welcome to ah fucking fuck auto caps fuck fuck fuck how do i turn off auto caps AHA there we go okay. take 2

hello and welcome to the great and very insane formula 1 2024 season drama post, part 2. if you are new here or are just looking for part one (which contains the previous 16 (?) races, the off season, pre season testing and everything else, that can be found HERE. (a word to the wise: open it in a browser, not the app, and preferably on a computer to avoid crashing. its fucking long). 

what the hell is formula 1? car go fast. fastest cars in the world zoom around tracks at top speeds of over 300kph, piloted by the top 20 drivers in the world. it might not sound dramatic, but oh man. you will Not be disappointed. this post focuses on the drama, the insanity, the sheer what the hell how is this a serious sport. no legitimately. we've just about seen it all this year. grindr, dogs, watersports, ice cream brands, its all here.

the point of this post? to educate, to catalog the insane drama, and to just have a good time. people like to gatekeep this sport, there is also a lot happening. i try to make it easy to understand. again, probably best to start at the beginning of the post because it does a pretty good job of explaining things, which i began way back in january, and can be found HERE (again, shes long, be careful)

and, as usual, if you do not want to see this post EVER AGAIN, block the tag #saph explains silly season 2024

and a second caution, i assume this post will be getting long as well. including this one we have minimum 9 updates left!

anyway, those of you who have been following along the whole time, welcome back! i know we got a little delayed. and i know we’re on a new post, so lets just briefly take a second for me to explain what the fuck happened. first i had an anatomy test, second i work 2 jobs with fuck ass hours, third tumblr decided to stop letting me look at any of my drafts, fourth tumblr support ghosted me about the drafts issue and the post was half saving half not so i just decided fuck it, were going with post 2, electric boogaloo, and fifth, i decided to start typing this instead in a google docs so. many changes. if you're new here i am usually more on top of this.

but here we are. were back on street circuits. we’re in baku, azerbaijan, for the start of the last third of the season. 8 races remain, world championship titles are still within grasp of multiple people. the drama is dramaing. and today is september 22, 2024 and lets fucking go. 

first and foremost, on account of the fact that this post is late (again, see above), were going to have to do a bit of a speed run. if you're new here, i promise that this is not representative of my normal dedication to the update post. and for those asking, yeah, ill probably compile it somewhere better than a tumblr post after its all said and done, but we don't have time for that now. 

what we do have time for is the Off Week (and like some of the media stuff). and it was filled with silliness: 

george russell decided to wear what can only be described as slightly ugly yellow short shorts with his taylor swift shirt that he got at the eras tour. this was baffling for several reasons, the main reason being that i don't think the internet knew that he was capable of wearing a graphic t shirt

fernando alonso got his aston martin valkyrie finally. in case you are unfamiliar, a valkyrie i think is the worlds fastest street legal car. he posted tweets about this that made it seem like he wanted to fuck the car. hilariously, the car broke down an hour later.

we also had the very thrilling conclusion to grill the grid. oscar won and he somehow managed to look more pleased about his grill the grid win than his first race victory. 

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nico rosberg went to the green awards and he wore a fantastically insane teal blue suit. yes i know hes not a current driver. but you all like hearing about him so ask and you shall receive. unfornunately i cant find a picture of it though

and also not a current driver is mick schumacher, but my roommate asked me to include that he was seen on his girlfriends instagram being bad at golf. like. exceptionally bad at golf. like he hit a tree 20 feet in front of him.

also playing golf was lando norris. except he managed to look like try bolton from high school musical 2.

he also talked about the world driver championship with his friend max fewtrell while they were playing golf. unfortunately i lost this link in the sea of technical difficulties, but the gist of it was that he was saying that there is still hope for him to beat max in the championship (hes about 60 points behind right now). lando doesnt usually talk about the championship because he doesnt want news outlets to paint him as “desperate” so this was interesting

charles leclerc had an insane off week. first he rear ended someone in monaco. then he spoke at a yacht conference. he was not scheduled to speak at said yacht conference, he was there doing something else and they were like hey you're cool people know you, heres a microphone. he alsp ended up on a weather channel while promoting a karting event he was doing for the jules bianchi foundation (his god father, the one who died during the f1 race in japan 2014). he also changed his instagram pop and re centered it because some random tiktoker told him it matched his aesthetic better.

oscar piastri posted a photo of himself sitting in the cockpit of a plane and then promptly deleted it. because he posted it on 9/11. for anyone who doesnt know what that is, that was when some terrorists hijacked commercial planes and few them into the world trade centers in nyc and the pentagon in washington dc

max verstappen also posted a plane pic with himself and lando norris, but he did not delete it.

we also had the return of daniel ricciardo’s jpg instagram account, which is kinda like a finsta for photos that hes taken. i think lando started this a few years ago. 

heading into the race week we certainly got a weird ass batch of pr. including but not limited to:

lewis hamilton was back on top and slaying in the fit game. as was yuki. 

lewis hamilton also exposed george russell as listening to katy perry pre race. katy perry and taylor swift (this was after he claimed that he liked listening to old school rap music.) though, lewis then started singing wrecking ball???? confusing vibes all around

george was not off the hook yet tho because some intern definitely make him say skidibidi toilet or whatever the thing is idk, i might be gen z but im not insufferable, okay? actually george in baku was just all kinds of unhinged

george and alex also got up to something, what it is no one knows but it is clearly something

max pulled up to the paddock de aged about 10 years. picture one is of him in baku in 2015 (i believe he was 17) and picture 2 is this year. no i am not kidding. 

and franco walked into the paddock telling everyone about argentinian mate (which is a drink, not a friend)

and max shoved a microphone out of the way so everyone could gossip

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then of course, we had some slightly more relevant drama

haas announced that ollie would be replacing kevin at baku. in case you forgot, kevin magnussen received a total of 12 penalty points over the season so far, which means he gets one race ban. how did he get the points? well he was mostly wreaking havoc on everyone else so that his teammate, nico hulkenberg, could drag his car into the points. lets all remember the time in saudi arabia where he managed to get 20 seconds of penalties by basically driving like a mad man just to make sure that nico could keep his position after he pit stopped. anyway, nico was kind of pissed about the race ban situation and said “maybe the guidelines for F1 penalties need to be reviewed as the stewards ‘want to get involved’ no matter the contact.”

in any case though, k mags was out. and ollie was in. we’ve seen ollie before. notably he subbed in for carlos sainz at the saudi arabia gp when carlos had appendicitis. he managed to get points as well. since then, he has been announced as a haas driver for 2025 and is now subbing in for k mags (haas, later in the week called him a super sub. clearly no gen z person read that over.) he can do this because ferrari has a haas engine so they share reserve drivers.

adrian newey finally got employed. i know! i can hardly believe it either! but he did! and youll never guess where! 

ferrari? no that would be too obvious. 

mercedes? nah

williams? no too much of a shit show

aston martin? ding ding ding! just the right amount of shit show! 

that is right. newey is going to aston for 2025. 

apparently he was offered a “good package” according to himself, which i assume means pay and also the fact that lawrence stroll made him a shareholder? stakeholder? whatever its called. in the team itself. basically he has a lot of power. 

he said that he always wanted to work with fernando and lewis. and he couldn't do both. and aston had a better package than ferrari. 

fernando looked positively evil during all the announcement pictures. and called the team "definitely the team of the future" and for those of you who don't know, fernando is positively evil. hes just been stuck in a shit box and we havent seen very much of him, but man does he know how to evilly slut it up. so that will be fun to see.

by contrast, people said that lance was not excited enough. and well. lance 1. has resting bitch face and 2. never really looks excited about anything. also he lives in a world where take your child to work day somehow became his job. (his dad owns the team).

lewis hamilton was asked what he thought about adrian not going to ferrari, and here's what he had to say:

"i feel like, while I have mentioned before that it would be an honor to work with adrian, i have been privileged to work with two championship winning teams that didnt have adrian."

mclaren announced pato o ward would do FP1 in mexico. who is pato o ward? hes one of mclaren’s indycar drivers and one of the f1 reserve drivers. he is incredibly charming and definitely runs his own social media as seen here:

mclaren Also claim they figured out who their number 2 driver is and they claim its oscar. i say they claim because the statements were a lot more complex than that. essentially, according to andrea stella, the priority is to the team first, then lando and then oscar. so they didn't outright say that oscar is the number 2 driver and i am willing to bet real money that this is because mr mark webber, oscars manager, has something in oscars contract that prevents him from being a number 2 driver. this is of course because mark webber was one of the most infamous number 2 drivers in f1 history to none other than menace war criminal sebastian vettel, who in their time as teammates, managed to win 4 back to back world champions. or, top to bottom if you're mrs darbus from high school musical. 

lando was asked about this and he said that yes, the team does support him. though he would not expect oscar to give up a win for him and that it is more complex behind the scenes. i suppose we will see if there are any papaya rules coming out this weekend….

and oscar said "i think the main point is its not purely just going to be me pulling over for lando every single race, because thats how none of us, including lando, wont want to go racing, if we feel that someone has done a much better job on a weekend, whichever way it is, we want that person to be rewarded."

max verstappen commented on the mclaren situation as well. which was funny mostly because red bull has one of the most defined number 1 and number 2 drivers of any team. he said "you look at it form oscar's perspective, he is closer to lando than lando to me. they have to deal with that."

and allow me to put on a tin foil hat as we are about to talk about the future of the red bull seat. because all i have to offer here is a baseball hat and a red bull can. 

a long time ago we talked about the red bull cans. the ones that red bull makes to promote f1. at the end of last season red bull put max and checo on the red bull can. this season at the start it was just max on the red bull can. well. now checo has reappeared on the cans too. and i will tell you what i think this means. it means that checo is not getting swapped this season, which was a possibility for awhile. 

but! there is more! 

daniel ricciardo made an instagram post this week. and it was very interesting. but most interestingly he was wearing a red bull hat.

which he does occasionally, no big deal really. he did race for the for several years, he technically does currently. BUT then he showed up TO THE PADDOCK wearing the red bull hat.

which is Big Interesting. usually you show up in a statement outfit or wearing the team kit. and daniel is not a red bull racing driver. he is a visa cashapp racing bulls driver. they might be owned by red bull but they are Not the same team. so why the red bull hat. in the paddock. well, the rumor is that hes taking checos seat for 2025. and the rumor is that this will be announced before mexico. so checo can have a proper send off. 

and with that. the baku lore. 

theres a lot that has happened at baku. as i said its a street circuit. and i think its the fastest street circuit. but over the years theres been some notable events. 

such as the great kimi raikkonen radio for gloves and steering wheel:

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they gave mini kimi this week gloves and steering wheel in honor of that

the max and daniel crash in 2018 when they were running p1 and p2 respectfully

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and of course. how could we forget. charles’s infamous “i am stupid” radio.

speaking of charles, he crashed again in fp1. not quite in the same spot, but nearly. he took a picture with the marshalls. 

then in fp2 he rage quit, basically saying that the car sucks. 

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but he was back and better than ever in practice three because he managed to top the time charts. welcome back fuck ass ferrari.

some other teams definitely experienced the lows but not really the highs of baku during practice. like lance stroll who came on the radio to say “this is not a car” (good thing they have adrian newey now, right? 

franco colapinto also cut his ear before practice on the neck strengthener stretcher thing that they all use and the team wanted to give him stitches but he was like no no no i need to be in the car in about 5 minutes im not doing that. so he jammed on his helmet and jumped in the car. he also crashed and when he went to the medical center he took off his helmet and there was blood everywhere and they were like no no no you cannot race! and he was like no! this is not from the crash! and then explained it and they let him do qualifying. 

also im pretty sure? ollie bearman crashed? in practice? but frankly i don't have time to google it so whos to say. 

but alas. qualifying. 

i know i know this is kind of a shitty update. i promise ill go all out in singapore. i PROMISE. 

so as i said. its a street circuit. high speed. 90 degree corners. and also windy as hell. we also had the dynamic duo of karun and harry in the commentary box. 

max led the first practice, george led the second and i think charles led the third. or some order like that. 

slipstream here is almost essential (slipstream: going behind another car to reduce the wind drag so you can go faster) 

charles has the last three pole positions (first in qualifying) here in baku, but he has never won. by comparison, red bull have never had pole here but they have won. 

and franco has never been to baku before. 

i think that's all the exposition that we need here. 

q1 started with max complaining about his car. “the car is jumping around like crazy on the rear axle” he said. despite this he was sitting in p3. 

the mid field battle though….the mid field battle was heating the hell up. mostly because none other than franco colapinto, who if you will remember, has never been to baku before, had split the two ferraris. he was in third for the moment, .109 seconds behind carlos sainz and .159 seconds ahead of charles leclerc. we still had a lot of qualifying left to go, so this was probably not going to stay, but it was still insane. he was pushing insanely hard, nearly kissing the walls. clearly he had learned from his crash in practice. 

the two mclarens waited until the very end of q1 to do their final flying push lap, and oscar made it through, but tragedy struck for lando. 

lando was in the middle of his last flying lap, time was ticking down, and there was a Very Brief yellow flag on the track. now, according to rules, you cannot complete your flying lap if there is a yellow flag. so lando pitted and was stuck down in 17th and out of qualifying. this would be the first time that he was out in q1 since vegas last year (which if i remember correctly was also not his fault) 

now though, of course nothing is ever that cut and dry. people thought that there had been a mis showing of a flag. yellow flag means that a car is stopped on track, white flag means that a car is going slowly on the track. and people thought that there had been a yellow flag shown when it was actually supposed to be a white flag (if there had been a white flag then lando would have been able to keep doing his flying lap) lando himself said that he had no idea what people were talking about because there is a light on the steering wheel that lights up when flags are called and he had a big yellow light. so it was clearly a yellow flag. 

if you're concerned about lando being able to pull it out of the bag, id like to point you in the direction of the mexican gp last year where lando qualified 17th and finished 5th. on a track that was hard to overtake on. he can be absolutely insane when he wants to be. worry not gentle reader. 

in any case. also out in q1 was daniel ricciardo, valtteri bottas, zhou guanyu and esteban ocon.

and notably, williams, who was on fucking fire this weekend as we already saw, finished q1 with alex albon in second (ahead of oscar) and franco colapinto in 8th. pierre gasly had somehow managed to also get into 4th. and nico hulkenberg was in 7th with ollie bearman in 13th. i told you the mid field battle was heating the hell up. 

q2. everyone zoomed straight out of the gate. they didn't want to get lando norris’d. but, speaking of that, if lando managed to get no points in the race and charles managed to win, charles would overtake lando in the drivers championship. mark webber himself told this to charles, who was absolutely baffled. 

in any case, charles was kinda suffering right now and that was because he was not getting slipstream from carlos to make his lap faster. meanwhile, carlos seemed to be actively trying to give charles the slipstream because he came on radio to say “he keeps missing the tow” 

and amazingly, franco colapinto was 4 tenths AHEAD of alex albon. alex albon who had not been unqualified by his teammate once since the start of 2023. ex red bull driver alex albon. that alex albon. 

max topped the times in q2, followed immediately by charles. insanely, fernando alonso managed to drag the aston martin to fifth. and franco was right behind him in 6th. by comparison alex albon was in 10th. 

and from q2 we lost ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda (who has never qualified lower than 8th in baku), pierre gasly, nico hulkenberg and lance stroll. so yes, ollie bearman managed to outqualify nico hulkenberg. this is ollies second ever f1 race. 

steaming on forward to q3. 

we had, for review, in q3 the following: 

both ferraris, both red bulls, both mercedes, both WILLIAMS (has not happened since vegas 2023), plus fernando alonso and oscar piastri. 

right out the gate it was wild. 

“red bull! theyve re found their mojo! or have they!” karun said. red bull were in 5th and 6th and not entirely sucking for the moment. 

everyone did one flyer and then came out at the end for a second flyer. 

here were the standings: 

charles, carlos, oscar, george, checo, max, lewis, alex, franco, fernando

and everyone was making it to the line and all was going smooth until-

wait a second what is that

could it be! alex albon! with the air box fan still on his car! surely not!!!

oh but it was! and harry and karun were like oh wow so unfortunate for williams tisk tisk

meanwhile ted jumped on the radio to Loudly announce to everyone that this was insane and if i have time here i will put the rant he ranted cause it was Fantastic.

and what do you know i have time

so we had 3 minutes left qualifying and everyone was pulling out of the pits for their last flyer when oscar hopped on the radio to say

"the williams still has the air box fan in"

"oh what an error! disaster for williams!" karun and harry said. they speculated if the marshalls could get it or if the session needed to be red flagged. but alex threw the fan off the car.

and then they asked "ted have you ever seen that before?" and ted did not hold back:

"ITS A MASSIVE YELLOW FAN HOW COULD YOU MISS IT???!!! HOW COULD THE MECHANICS MISS IT???? I CANT BELIVE THEY WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE DOWN AT WILLIAMS! SUCH AN EXPERIENCED BUNCH OF GUYS AND GIRLS! WHAT IS GOING ON AT WILLIAMS OPERATIONALLY? HOW COULD YOU SEND A CAR OUT LIKE THAT?"

alex, obviously, got fined for an unsafe release 5k euros. he also had to throw the fan off to the side and got slightly covered in dry ice. he did not get to the a second flying lap. 

franco did tho!

and here were out qualifying results: 

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: checo p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: fernando p9: franco p10: alex  p11: ollie p12: yuki p13: pierre p14: nico p15: lance p16: daniel  p17: lando p18: valtteri p19: zhou p20: esteban 

oh ho ho but we werent done yet. because pierre gasly got disqualified from qualifying. for failing fuel flow regulations. and lewis was going to have to start from the pit lane for changing his power unit. 

everyone, and by everyone i mean oscar max and checo, pretty much said that charles was going to get pole no matter what, they knew this coming in and the best they were trying for was second

onto the race. 

notably, this is considered a checo track. this was one of the three races that max did not win last year. because checo won it. its a track that he does well on, evidenced by the fact that he qualified above max in qualifying. so people were expecting big things from him.

and so, we head into lap 1.

charles managed to hang onto the lead. checo passed carlos straight out of the gate for third and max managed to pass george to take fifth. lando had managed to get ahead of nico and up into 13th. notably, franco held onto 8th and ollie was able to hold onto tenth. 

someone who was not doing well was lance stroll, who came on the radio saying that he had a puncture. this was from contact with yuki. lance had to pit for fresh tires and was pretty immediately thrown to the back of the grid. 

by lap 2 lando had managed to get past daniel and was in 12th, he was trying to get past yuki next, which he managed by lap 3. yuki also lost a  spot to nico. 

also slaying in the mclaren was oscar, who took fastest lap. then charles took fastest lap.

and lewis hamilton, who had started from the pit lane, was up to 16th. already. somehow. though he was displeased with the tires, sayig that “this tire is pretty bad” over the radio. 

yuki meanwhile was clearly having a problem because he had started going very very slowly. thought the pit wall said that he had no problems. this would later turn out to be false but we will indulge them for the time being. 

franco was STILL ahead of alex albon on lap 6. STILL. 

lando on lap 8 managed to push his way into points positions, overtaking ollie bearman for 10th. though this was where things were about to slow down for him because in front of him were alex, franco and fernando, who were all very close together and would be hard to get past. 

george was back in bad luck hell as a plastic bag entered his airbox. will he ever catch a break. 

on lap 11 nico hulkenberg finally caught up with ollie bearman and passed him for 11th. 

and max’s car was not working. to potentially no one’s surprise. “i have zero bite in the car” he said. and this was probably true because checo was a whole 6.5 seconds ahead of him. insane gap. 

several pit stops later that i will not detail out because we simply do not have the time, alex albon ended up in 4th and lando ended up in fifth. and oscar was about to get undercut by checo. 

“mojo seems to be back for checo perez” harry said, correctly. 

mojo was back for him indeed. and now he was right behind lando. 

and if you will recall, according to mclaren themselves, priority at mclaren is the team first, then oscar, then lando. but oscar was ahead of lando. so what did mclaren do? 

they asked lando do hold up perez, but not compromise his own race. 

remever a long time ago when i said mclaren wouldn't have any internal drama this season? man how i was wrong.

lando managed to hold up perez for around a lap or two before he got past. this was crucial because this was during when oscar was in the pits. 

thanks to lando and the power of the papaya rules teamwork, oscar ended up coming out in 4th, only .706s ahead of checo. 

mclaren are working together everyone! mclaren are working together!

meanwhile, turns out that yuki did indeed have problems because he retired on lap 17 with a hole in his sidepod from the contact with lance on lap 1. this was now two races in a row where he had had to retire for reasons out of his control. 

several more people pitted. and eventually charles was back out in front, oscar was in p2. until he wasn't. no, he didn't dnf. he overtook charles! he was in p1! he popped out of nowhere! nowhere being 2 car lengths back and just flooring it to spring around charles like a little silly slinky! karun called it a “good, fair and robust defense,” which sounds like its descibing notes in wine. but this was not wine. this was the baku gp. and we were only half done. 

ollie bearman was defending against lewis hamilton, holding on tightly to 14th place. 

charles was still behind oscar and he could not get past, despite the fact that he was still very much in spitting distance. “they are pushing like crazy or they have more grip than us” he said. 

carlos got past both lando and alex albon and was up into 4th

this brought max up behind lando. max was on 11 lap old tires and lando was on 24 lap old tires. but lando still defended like hell and managed to hold onto sixth. max was 0.632 seconds behind lando on lap 25 when he said that “my brakes are not working.” this was hardly a surprise. max has hated the car since china.

also experiencing technical difficulties was sir lewis hamilton. he was stuck down in 14th and was first told to do “everything you can do to get the surface temp down” of the tires. he said “im trying” then several laps later on lap 29 he came on the radio to say “are you seeing how i have to drive this thing?” “yes,” bono, his engineer said. “quite effective though.” 

max was still half a second behind lando. mclaren faked a pit stop call over the radio to get max to pit. he did not. 

but, george russell did manage to pass him. which was “not good for max’s world champion aspirations.”

this was also when ted very bafflingly said that “if i had a sofa in the pit lane i would be jumping up and down on it” im not sure what that was in response to. 

meanwhile, ollie was still holding off sir lewis hamilton. and charles was trying to get oscar to pit again by lying over the radio. it was not working. 

lando did a pit stop finally and came out a whole 15 second behind max. he was hoping to catch max by the end of the race. but it might be tight. lets go last lap lando. 

“lando, imagine andrea on your shoulder saying ‘zero wheel spin’ in every exit,” lando’s race engineer said. if you're confused, everyone else was too. 

10 laps to go and here were the order of affairs:

oscar

+.449s charles +1.865s checo +2.989s carlos +16.530s george  +1.909s max +11.535s lando +9.715s fernando +2.589s alex +2.451s nico +4.667s franco +1.590s lewis +1.261s ollie +1.791s pierre +9.205s daniel +23.919s esteban  +.789s lance +3.862s valtteri +3.631s guanyu 

lando was determined. he took fastest lap on lap 43 and was 8.8s behind max

at this point, the leaders were starting to lap the cars in the back. “the back markers are starting to come up,” checo’s engineer said to him. “its going to get messy.”

“hold onto your hats and if you don't have one go get one and hold onto it” harry said. harry would turn out to be correct. 

we had the top 3 all running very close to eachother, that was oscar, charles and checo and “welcome to the party carlos sainz!” who was now 1.2 seconds behind checo in the four way battle for the lead.

definitely not leading was lance stroll, who retired on lap 47 with a brake problem. 

oscar managed to pull ahead of charles by 1.5 seconds, finally knocking him out of DRS range. so now it was a three way battle for second. and charles had “no rear tires. no rear tires at all.” 

and, just like i said he would, lando managed to pass max on lap 49. he was closing the gap slowly in the championship. 

“verstappen’s day goes from bad to worse,” harry said. because lando still had fastest lap, so he would score 3 more points than max. which is important if lando wants to beat max in the championship (though i think hes still like 60 points behind)

meanwhile! franco managed to pass nico hulkenberg for 10th! he was in the points!!!! at his second race!!! 

but this was short lived because there was a crash! a big smackeroo! between carlos and checo!! checo was mad, carlos didn't know what happened. 

what happened was that carlos was trying to pass checo but checo did not move over. it was deemed an equal fault accident. both of them were utterly confused at what happened and apparently spent 20 minutes in the medical center being utterly lost and aparently saying that sometimes this sport sucks. and! contrary to what several people said! checo did not bang on carlos’s helmet after the crash. 

the crash actually caused chef's dad to have a heart attack. he is stable now.

and well. this clip of george from the post qualifying interviews definitely didnt age well:

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but! since we were a matter of a few laps from the end, this meant that the rest of the race was finished under a virtual safety car. 

which meant 

OSCAR PIASTRI WINS THE AZERBAIJAN GP

and george inherited p3! 

and on his own merit too! no safety cars, no team orders, no weird shit! 

“yes!” he whispered over the radio. 

he almost fell getting out of the car, then gave us all the “one moment” hand gesture before properly celebrating. 

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he also got driver of the day! 

(this was marginally better than george russell, who said over the radio “i cant get any rubber (to pick up on his tires) all im getting is leaves”)

gunther steiner also hosted the post race interviews. which was interesting. 

george said that the most difficult part of the race was “driving full gas into a wall of carbon fiber on the penultimate lap…the vsc should have come out sooner” 

charles bashed ferrari because they didn't do any high fuel runs in practice. 

oscar was entirely pleased. “i managed to overtake and hold onto it for the next 35 laps..one of the better races of my career.” and honestly, oscar winning a race straight after mclaren basically announcing that he was their number 2 driver is nothing short of hilarious.

and! mclaren was now leading the constructors championship by 20 points! for the first time in ten years!!!!

the top three had a moment outside of the car that was filled with baffled: 

and oscar's engineer tom got to stand on the podium with him. he usually takes a selfie with oscar after each race he podiums at, but he was too excited to so george took this picture for them

(george also aparently demomished oscar in a game of uno on the plane, immediately humbling him)

george also shielded himself from the champagne on the podium

the cooldown room reacted to the crash in a very straight forward manner:

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and very quickly cause its midnight and the singapore gp starts in 8 hours, the post race, speed ran: 

-mark webber told off laura winter for thinking that oscar didn't have good tire management

-alex albon was “super happy, that's a lot of points for us” (williams finished in 7th and 8th). he cut his own interview short when ollie bearman arrived, saying “I can go, im happy to go” and then waving comically. 

-williams was so pleased with this result they blasted everyone with champagne. and they overtook alpine in the constructors championship! this was also their best race finish all season

-(and a quick note, if youre going to really blame logan for being that shit of a driver here, please remember that the car he was driving was several rounds of upgrades behind alex's pretty much the entire time he was driving it)

-ollie became the first driver to ever score points in his first two races for two different constructors because the double dnf pushed him up to 10th place. he said that there was not much difference between the haas and the ferrari, the ferrari was just red

-franco continued to charm everyone and flirt with the reporters. 

-they interviewed george and lewis and the camera had to be adjusted for george's height. it was comical and resulted in my favorite edit so far of the season (sound on)

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-lando looked pleased and happy for once. he said about holding off checo that “i didn't hold him up i just had to cool my tires a little.” he was delighted to be leading the constructors for the first time in ten years and he defended alex albon saying “i struggled to get past alex for a while, which is common, alex doesnt make mistakes.” he also ratted on max for going to fast during the VSC and said “i didn't complain, facts were stated.” and to sum it all up he said that “im executing things well, i’m very quick…i’m not going to be the happiest guy, but i am never the happiest guy….car is performing well everywhere…some red cars behind us seem to be our biggest competitors right now” 

-by comparison george insulted all of pirelli. the tire people. “pretty infuriating that it (the pace) changes this so much….its black magic, people who make the tires don't understand the tires…..for 20 laps we had a car not worthy of points and for 20 laps we had a car fighting for victory and the only difference is the tires.” 

-lewis was notably upset after the race and walked through the paddock with his helmet on, not wanting to talk to anyone. but he did talk to franco and ollie and congratulate them on a job well done defending against him and racing against him. franco even fangirled over this on his instagram. 

-charles was clearly upset with ferrari. he was so upset he posted a thirst trap.

-and oscar. oscar was very happy this afternoon. and his mom was there! she doesnt usually come cause it scares her, but nicole was there today! 

-mclaren celebrated with a hell of a lot of champagne. both oscar’s wina and lando’s insane recovery, and the fact that they were leading the championship. red bull have been dethroned, at least for now. 

-there was so much champagne that lando took off his socks to spray it. all seems well at mclaren. 

-at least one thing is for sure, oscar had a better time here this weekend than last year when he got food poisoning and only ate four pieces of toast

and with that. we head into singapore. quite literally as it is starting in a few hours. again, i apologixe about this post. its a little sad, but the next one will be better. pinkly promise. 

see you all soon!!!

[pixiesholloworld]

You know you’re in serious trouble now. You promised your boyfriend you’d let him go down on you tonight. Though no one is obligated to have sex, you’ve chickened out so many times that it's become a pain that you personally want to get over. You’ve been dating for the first few months of college, meeting him at orientation and falling for him harder every time you saw him. He promised you two could start things slow being that you were a complete virgin (him being your first boyfriend), he told you there was no pressure and no matter how many times your nerves took over, he’d be understanding of it…but that didn’t stop you from wanting to jump headfirst into sex with him. 

You immediately ran to the first and only friend you made all year, Suguru. He was a 3rd year and had just the right amount of patience to put up with you and your silly antics. You figured that since he was older, he must’ve had his fair share of women. I mean, come on, it’s not like he was ugly?? When you asked him to go to the mall with you to pick some things out, his slender face painted an amused smirk. You threatened to not have him go with you if he was going to take you as a joke, but he assured you he wasn't he just thought it was: 

“Cute”

You turn a blind eye to his clear mocking of you and sat shotgun in his car. Upon arriving, you two went store to store (Suguru holding all the bags, of course). You went from Victoria’s Secret to Bath & Body Works, trying to pick out the right lingerie, the right perfume, and the right body scrub. You wanted everything to go over smoothly tonight, it helped that Suguru was right there picking out which scent would smell best on you, if it fit your face, etc. You’d like to think he enjoyed helping you in this way after all, who knows you better than your best friend? 

After spending more money than you probably should’ve, he drove you home to your apartment. You made him sit and wait for you on your bed while you showered, decorating your shower walls with the different products you had bought earlier in the day. Using each one in the order it was supposed to be used, feeling how the wet metal stick glides across your legs and in between the creases your body makes. 

After getting out of the shower, you find beads of water effortlessly dripping down your now hairless skin. The sight of it excites you a bit. You decided to hurry and dry off, quickly applying lotion and little blots of baby oil to keep your skin soft, throwing on a skimpy tank top, that showed your underboob and pajama shorts. You hurried to your room, plopping down on the bed next to Suguru, who is now lying on his back, toying with his phone. 

“Sooo, how do I smell?" leaning in so he can sniff, he leans in, and his eyes flicker a bit, almost as if he were a vampire smelling fresh blood, but he simply gave you an:

“I’ve smelt better” and carried on with whatever he was doing on his phone.

“I’m serious, Sugie,” you whined, pushing his arm a little. “Do I smell good or not?” He turns to look at you, so you know he is sincere, his over observant eyes switching focus between your lips and eyes.

“You smell good,” he smiled, turning back to his now shut off phone, his eyes hiding something deep inside of him. He puts his phone down and lifts himself up so hes sitting. He places a hand on you, starting down your mid-thigh area, slowly creeping his way to your mid-calf, and back up again. His big, warm hands occasionally gripped at the fat closest to your bare mound. You could feel your body heating up from his sudden touch, and you prayed that he couldn’t tell.

“Soft too.” His head turns so his gaze can meet yours. You smirk and readjust yourself on the bed closer to the headboard, your legs practically inviting him in. He uses this opportunity to adjust himself right on top of your pelvis, his eyes staring at you with a certain ostensible innocence. He grabs onto your unsure hands and has you rub his face, brushing across his plump lips and keeping your hand there for a moment. You can feel him taking in deeper whiffs of your newfound scent. Blood rushes to your face, taking advantage of the moment to part his lips, curious to feel the warmth and wetness that it holds. 

“So do I get a taste or what?” With his hands holding yours closely, you chuckle a little, trying to alleviate the tension. You won't deny that you’re already aroused and curious about how you taste. You find it hard to resist his request, being that he has already smelled and felt you. PLUS, this would be all for your boyfriend’s sake… right? No no, you won’t use any lousy excuses like that, you wanted this.

He slides your shorts and panties off of you to reveal your cunt, the translucent wetness forming webs between your puffs and the clothing. He looks back up at you with a hunger in his eyes. After sliding them all the way off, his head is stuck between your ankles. He begins kissing downward, leaving wet marks and gentle nibbles along the way down to your thighs. Feeling his warm breath tickle your thighs made your tummy swirl, your second heart beating faster than the first. He kisses and squeezes them, making sure you know he's watching your reactions. Your body shutters in response, never having felt this many sensations at once. Not only that, but this is your first time seeing your closest friend as something more. You never had any doubts about Suguru’s capabilities before, but especially now..

He slides his mouth over to your puffy gates, slowly kissing them. You can feel yourself oozing to the brim, watching his eyes dart up to you. His fingers graze over your soft skin, spreading your folds open, as he moves his stiff, wet tongue against your clit. He starts slowly, at first moving in long slow strokes, your body jolts a bit, slowly adjusting to the new feeling. He carefully slips a digit into you, feeling how you squeeze and twitch under his touch. He applies more pressure, moving his tongue rhythmically, and pushing his finger further and further into you. You start to pant and grab the sheets under you. With each stroke he makes, you fall deeper into euphoria, your face burning from the pleasure

“Sugie~” you whined. He moves both of his hands to either side of your hips and holds them down, making sure you feel everything that comes with ‘just a taste’. Your breaths become ragged and out of control, and your back practically levitates off the bed. He swirls himself in deep circles, drool escaping his mouth and drowning your cunt. He tounges you like you’re the sweetest treat he’s ever tasted, his brows furrowed as small groans escape his mouth, the vibrations and hot air adding to your arousal. You leave your mouth agape as the feeling drowns out any sense of the world around you, though it’s short lived as whines and silent moans leave your lips, moving quickly, you cover your mouth.

Suguru makes a disapproving groan against your clit making it beat with anticipation. He reaches up to your arms, sliding his hands down to your wrists. “Pretty girl,” he coos, vibrations still threatening to bring you over the edge. “Keep these down for me, or I’m going to tie you up, ok?” he warned, his voice deepening with lust. You nod and he slowly lets go of your hands, letting your fists bury themselves into the sheets. As he starts up again, this time suckling against your sweet bulb, your eyes shut tightly as you mindlessly attempt to move your hips towards him, your back practically levitates off the bed, begging for the pressure down below to finally release. Forlorn cries bounce off the walls as the familiar sound of sucking and huffing fills your ears, not nearly giving you enough time to breathe. But then he suddenly stops.

"Eyes on me.” You open your eyes and look at him, tears of joy form as he eases in two digits, beckoning a sharp gasp from you. His gaze grows softer shoots shoots you that same knowing smile. Knowing that he’s watching you, he’s touching you, he’s making you feel this way, it brings you over the edge, your tight walls seizing and leaking all over Suguru’s fingers, clutching faster and harder with every thrust. He traces his lips over your stomach back to your beating clit, eyes piercing through your skull, until the pressure building in your stomach finally boils over, appearing in the form of a gushing fountain. Your body tenses up until every last drop seeps out.

You look down at Suguru, who’s licking translucent slick off his fingers, his other hand still squeezing your thigh. “What? Want a taste?” He teases, crawling over your now limp body to position his lips above yours. They fall, lightly dancing against them, his hand finding its way under you and holding you close. His kisses become wider as he inches his tongue against yours, the slight metallic taste fulfilling your senses. 

“You should only taste this way for me, you know?”

[inkskinned]

you keep having dreams about the holidays. in this last one, everyone is happy again, and it is a good day for a moment, the way that sometimes peace could settle in restless clumps over everyone's head. your father is downstairs, everyone else is picking a movie to watch. your cat is still alive and in your mother's lap. you aren't afraid to go into the kitchen to eat, the guilt isn't there yet, and everything is free. your dog is lying down with your siblings, tongue lolling out his mouth. everything feels warm and silly.

you see your hand in the kitchen and you see the light of the fridge click on and some part of you says go back into the living room, you're missing the good part. this is how you spent most of your childhood: when you weren't in the room, it was alright. being in the room was the problem. you spent so much being present wishing someone would notice if you left. you love these people. there is something fundamentally wrong with your head. you stand in the kitchen and feel that rabid heart of yours; the one that tries to make you leave any situation, even when you're wanted.

you don't have this anymore. the mashed potatoes you pull out of tupperware containers spell out big letters on the counter. when you wake up, this isn't the life you have anymore.

sometimes that's an amazing thing - you are so glad you're out of this fucking house. when the peace breaks here, it shatters into months-long screaming. these gulfs and valleys are illusions. you're holding your breath even in the memory, waiting for the wrong thing to happen, the thing that splinters the family.

but sometimes... it would be nice to have this version of the house back. the fire is roaring. someone is laughing so hard it sounds like they're crying, wheezing through the story they're telling, michael buble is singing. in a few hours it will be time for pie, but in the meantime you're going to watch some fast and the furious something. you're all going to talk over most of it, quip lines at each other like it's mystery science theatre. you're all just about to start a board game or maybe a family art project. you're just about to hang up garlands.

someone asked you recently - what if you wake up and it's november of 2013. there are a lot of things that you would be horrified by. the things you'd have to relive, the bitter slow pain of recovery. and fuck, you'd still have to escape him, and the parts of this house that are ugly. to deliver yourself, mangled, into the long road you take in therapy. fuck that entirely.

but you'd also have this moment back, standing half in the kitchen and half in the living room, talk-shouting at your siblings, wiggling and dancing, throwing karate chops at each other and splitting the last crescent roll and gleefully telling college stories your mother really doesn't want to know. the house like this is warm, held in this space before-things. in this world it will be a few years before your family is splintered. these days you have to get in a car to travel to each visit, looping each person together in a little embroidery constellation. here it is loud. it will be a few years before the holidays are quiet, reserved, a little distant.

in the dream, you waver, your hand outstretched. for the love of god, go back the room. go back in and tell them you love them, tell them what this means to you. for the love of god, go now!

you're gonna wake up soon.

[skzstannie]

"They found her"

SKZ -> ot8 x 9th member fem! reader

This is a part 2 to this fic, but it can be read as a stand alone as there's not much reference to the original fic.

genre: hurt/comfort, angst wc: ~3,800 words cw: kidnapping, guns and gunshot wounds, hospitals, some brief cursing

Summary: Since the incident, the guys have been extremely over protective of you. You heed their warnings, but still go out unaccompanied by security on your vacation, only to have to pay the price for your poor decisions.

A/N: Hiiii, ik I've disappeared off the face of the Earth again, but I've brought gifts back with me this time. This one's a bit heavier, but it's the long awaited part 2 to "Did you know?", so I hope you guys enjoy. I hit 500 followers since the last time I posted, so this is kind of a celebratory post as well. Thanks guys!

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

The time has come around again when JYP has given you and your members some well-earned personal vacation, and you've chosen to spend that time back at home with your family and friends.

Upon hearing about your vacation, your childhood friends started blowing up your phone, asking about when you'll be in and if you wanted to hangout. Of course, you've missed them just as much and gave them all the details of you're arrival.

The day of said plans has finally arrived, and you couldn't be more excited. You and three of your closest friends have decided to go to this cute breakfast cafe for brunch, run by all your favorite stores for some shopping, and then round your evening out with some bar hopping.

"You have got to see this!" Ha-Yoon, a friend you've known since grade school, explodes from beside you in the passenger seat, fanning herself. "Look at how hot this guy is? Think he'll give me his number if I DM him?"

"Are you being for real?" Dae cringes from the backseat, leaning forward to get a closer look at your friend's new internet crush. "He's kinda ugly."

This elicits a bickering match for the remainder of the drive, with you and your remaining friend, Soon-Bok, rolling your eyes at their silly banter.

You decided that you'd pick them all up from their homes, figuring that you'd get to spend some more time with them that way. You didn't really think about the fact that perhaps more time was synonymous with too much time. Just because you hadn't seen your friends in months, doesn't mean that they didn't see each other literally every single day.

With a clear of your throat, they stop insulting each other's fantasy love interests, both squealing when they realize you've pulled into the parking lot for the cafe.

The four of you get out of the car, you pulling your keys out of your purse to lock the doors. While walking towards the doors of the cafe, you're hit with a strange feeling- like someone's watching you.

Immediately, you whip your head around in search of anyone getting a little too nosey, but you come up with nothing. You keep your guard up though, knowing you can never be too sure.

Since the stage incident a few months back, you've been feeling a little paranoid. Understandably so, especially since the mean and threatening comments never subsided. It's gotten to the point where the staff have begun to send out a few extra security guards each time you leave the JYP building. In fact, JYP gave you all this nice little vacation in hopes it'd help some of the comments die down. To your dismay, they have not.

The guys have been incredibly protective since then, and you're actually grateful for it for once. Their constant questions about your whereabouts and wanting to tag along with you everywhere you go used to annoy you, but you'd never think to complain about it now.

Just this morning, having told them about your exciting plans for the day, they sent a barrage of texts telling you to be careful. Chan practically demanded you take a security guard with you, but for the sake of your friends' comfortability, you declined. Was it stupid? Possibly, but you're only wish for this vacation is to make things seem normal again. Having constant security around is not normal.

You placated Chan by telling him that your family knows of the places you'll be, and your family and the rest of your members all have your location at all times. He was reluctant, almost threatening to fly himself to your home just to go out on your little excursion with you, but he eventually gave way, not without first lecturing you about how important your safety is- like you didn't already know that.

~ ~ ~

"And then he pushed him down the stairs! How crazy!" Dae finishes, your eyes widening at how her story ended. She had just finished telling you all about how her boyfriend got into this big fight with a guy at the bar the other day. Apparently, the random man thought it acceptable to lay his hands on Dae, and her boyfriend did not appreciate that.

"Your boyfriend is so hot," Ha-Yoon comments, her eyes looking dreamily off into the distance.

"Excuse me?" Dae questions, raising a brow at Ha-Yoon's confession.

"I mean-"

"Ok!" you interrupt, pushing your chair back from the table you've all been sat at. The brunch was nice, catching up with your friends was much needed and the food was warm and comforting, but enough is enough, and your friends are starting to get a bit squeamish. "I need to use the restroom quickly, then we can head to the mall? Does that sound ok?"

There's a chorus of yesses, and they shoo you off into the restroom, picking up their phones to distract themselves until you get back.

You make your way to the back of the cafe, noticing how the bathrooms are secluded down a small hallway in the corner of the restaurant. Your eyes glance out the emergency exit door, and you tilt your head in confusion upon seeing a large white van sat outside it. It is not parked in a parking spot; it's just parked directly outside the door.

You quickly do your business, not wanting to keep your friends waiting for too long, and head back out to the front of the cafe. Stepping outside the restroom, a hand is immediately thrown over your mouth, a piece of foul smelling cloth pressed up against your nose. You try to scream, but this only causes you to inhale more of the chemical.

You fight, attempting to throw an elbow behind you to dislodge yourself from the person's vice like grip, but this only leads to your elbow being grabbed at a painful angle. You whimper slightly as the person pries your elbow behind you, and it almost feels as if your arm could snap if you were to move another inch. You become lightheaded, and it's hard to keep your eyes open and your mind alert. Unable to fight any longer, you give in and slump down into the arms which hold you captive.

~ ~ ~

"She's been gone awhile, I'm gonna go-" Soon-Bok is cut off by an alarm inside the cafe going off. All the customers heads perk up at the noise, their attention drifting to the employees.

The waitresses look to one another in confusion before one makes their way over to where you went for the restroom a few minutes before. The cafe is silent as the waitress disappears, looking for where the alarm would be coming from.

It's silent for another minute, before there's an audible gasp. She comes back with your purse in one hand and your cracked phone in the other.

Your three friends quickly get up from their seats, rushing over to the waitress. "Where'd you find this?" Dae asks, her eyes tearing up.

"Just outside the bathroom. I was just able to catch a glimpse of a van speeding off. Do you think someone was taken?" she asks, her eyes widening at the thought.

"I think- I think our friend was kidnapped," Ya-Hoon whispers.

~ ~ ~

"This is why I said she needed a security guard with her! This would have never happened!" Chan snaps at their management in anger, rising up from his seat in the meeting room.

Upon hearing about your kidnapping, the rest of your members were immediately brought back to the JYP building. They were all livid.

"Chan, I understand you're upset, but there's really nothing we can do now but wait-"

"Wait for what? Huh? Wait for her to just magically appear here?" Minho cuts off the head of security, his face red with anger.

"Of course the police are on the case and doing everything they can to find her. As for the eight of you, you are not to leave this building until we get all of this under control. Do you hear me? We do not need more than one missing member." JYP is stern as he speaks, leaving no room for discussion. "This meeting is dismissed. We will update you all if we hear anything."

With that, everyone else clears out of the room, leaving your eight members.

"This is awful," Felix says, his head hanging in his hands.

"No shit, Felix, why not state more of the obvious," Jisung narrows his eyes at Felix.

"We can't turn on each other," Changbin butts in, deterring them from getting into it any further. "We have to stick together and just wait this out. She's strong; she'll be ok."

"But what if she's not," Hyunjin speaks up for the first time since they got back. He's been huddled up against Jeongin since they got there, his head hung low. It's obvious he's been crying with the way his cheeks are stained with tears, his eyes red from how often he's rubbed them.

"We can't think like that," Chan says, moving over to Hyunjin. He lays a comforting arm around his shoulders, and Hyunjin immediately moves to the comfort of the leader, turning his head to hide it in Chan's chest. "They saw the van leave, it couldn't have been too long before the police were there. They'll find her, and then she'll be right back here with us."

"To never be let out of our sights again," Seungmin grumbles from the couch, wearing a similar expression to that of Felix's.

"Correct," Minho agrees, leaning back in his chair.

~ ~ ~

"Seungmin, you have to sleep. Staying up for 72 hours straight is not going to make her come back any faster," Chan lays his hand on the back of the boy's neck, slightly rocking him side to side.

"Maybe not, but I'll be the first to know when they find her," he counters, his bloodhsot eyes meeting Chan's. "You're one to talk; you haven't slept either."

Chan just sighs in response, plopping down on the couch next to him. It's quiet between the two of them, but neither are complaining about it. The peace is nice after what they've been through the past few days.

"Hyunjin hasn't stopped crying. Jeongin and Felix have had to take turns laying with him," Seungmin breaks the quiet, his soft voice travelling throughout the practice room. "Han hasn't eaten since we found out."

"I know, I've been trying to get everyone up and moving, but no one's interested."

"Chan, we're not expecting you to be the hero. We know you're in pain, too, and it's ok to act like it," it takes Chan a minute to process what Seungmin had said, but as his brain takes time, he realizes that it's been so long since he's cried, so long since he's truly let his emotions out.

With another moment passing, Chan's breath quickens and tears spring into his eyes. Without another thought, he turns his head into Seungmin's shoulder and cries. He cries for you, and how scared you must be right now, and he cries for the rest of his members, knowing how bad this is hurting them. He cries because he can't take away their pain or yours, not this time.

~ ~ ~

"Wake up." You feel a cold splash of water hit your face, and you're abruptly brought to consciousness. Your eyes open quickly in response to the cold, but you squint once you're hit with the blinding light coming from the ceiling light above you.

You try to talk, to say anything, but you quickly become aware of the duct tape placed snuggly over your mouth.

You gain some more proprioception, feeling the tightness of the rope around your wrists and how your ankles are tied to the legs of the chair you're currently sat on.

"Hey!" Your attention is brought to the large man standing in front of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of the gun in his hand. "Eyes here. And quit squirming so much!"

You freeze at that, stilling your movements. "Now listen here," you hear another guy say from across the room. You are just noticing him for the first time, and you realize that this guy in front of you must be the brawn of the operation. "We need some money. A lot of money. So, if you want to make it out of here alive, you need to call your family and have them bring us 350 million won. No less. Think you can handle that princess?"

Tears well in your eyes at the mention of death. You can't die like this, at the hands of these awful people. But you also know you don't want to get your family involved. So, deciding this is your best bet, you sit stoically. You look straight ahead, your focus unwavering.

"The silent treatment, huh?" You can see out of your periphery the man at the desk across the room stand from his chair. He makes his way towards you, but you pay him no mind, keeping your blank stare on the wall in front of you.

"If the threat's not enough to get you to talk, maybe this will be." He's quick to take the gun from the other man's hand, and before you can even flinch he's pointed it at your lower leg and let off a shot.

You choke on your own spit when the pain registers. You close your eyes and strain your body not to react, but there's only so much you can do. The tears you were successfully keeping at bay before now slide freely down your cheeks. Your hands are in tight fists behind your back, and you feel you may pass out from the white-hot pain radiating from your calf.

Your consciousness teeters, and all words being spoken by the men sound gibberish in your state. Just as you feel you may fall completely unconscious, you're startled by a loud bang from behind you. Your eyes lazily drift to the men, and you see their gazes widen before they quickly raise their hands in surrender. You make eye contact with the one that shot you, and that's the last thing you see before your eyes shut, your body and mind going completely numb.

~ ~ ~

The practice room door is flung open, bringing Chan out of his sleepy state. "What the hell? Be a little quieter would you," he mumbles, rolling his eyes at Jisung who stands in the doorway. For the first time since the news, Chan is attempting to get some sleep. It wasn't exactly on his own accord, though. After the constant hounding from the rest of the members, and even a threat from Felix that he'd sneak melatonin into his water, he decided it would probably be best for him to try and get some shut eye; he'll be of no use to anyone if he's delirious with sleep.

"They found her."

At this, all of Chan's previous drowsiness vanishes. He sits up from the couch faster than he ever has before, his joints cracking with such a sudden movement. "What?" he asks for clarification, fearing it might be too good to be true.

"They've found her. She's on the way to the hospital right now," Jisung's contagious smile makes more sense now, Chan wearing a similar expression.

"Where are the rest of the boys?" Chan stands from the couch in a rush, quickly slipping his shoes on.

"They're in the meeting room. They just bought our flight there, we're leaving now."

~ ~ ~

"Thank you," you tell the nurse, taking the small cup of water from her hands. It's been a few hours since you woke up from your unconscious state. Upon arriving at the hospital, they immediately took you into surgery to remove the bullet from your leg. Thankfully, it missed all the important stuff, leaving your bones completely in tact. You're left with some muscle damage, but the doctor assured you with some physical therapy you'd be back to normal again.

You're now laying in bed recovering. The wound has been stapled and is wrapped tightly. You have your leg resting on a couple pillows, hopefully to help prevent the swelling. Beside you on the couch is your family, having come in immediately upon hearing the news. Some silly K-Drama is playing on the T.V, but it's enough to keep your mind occupied for now, so you're thankful for it.

Nobody confirmed it for you, but you were sure your members were well on their way. Your family told you that you had been kidnapped for a few days. You told them you only remember being awake for a few minutes, but apparently they kept knocking you out again and again.

After talking with the police, you find that they were using you for ransom, and they kept knocking you out because they didn't have everything squared away yet; whatever that means, you're not quite sure.

As if on cue, the door to your room swings open, revealing Chan and Minho. They're out of breath and sweaty, looking as if they had just run a marathon.

You're given no time for formal greetings as they both launch themselves at you, throwing their arms haphazardly around you until you feel like you're squished beneath them. Your mom makes a protesting sound, but you wave her off with a gesture of your hand. They missed you, and you missed them. They weren't hurting you or anyone else by hugging you.

"You're never leaving our sights again," Chan says, his cheek pressed against the top of your head.

"Never ever," Minho agrees, his torso laid lightly across your lap.

"I'm okay-" you start, only to be cut off by an angry looking Chan. His face pops into view at your words, eyebrows furrowed.

"You are indeed not okay! You were kidnapped, unconscious for hours on end, and then shot! How are you possibly trying to convince us that you're ok?" Minho stands up at his outburst, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm alive, and that's okay enough for me."

With your response bludgeoned into their minds, they both collapse on top of you in another hug.

You bask in their warmth a bit longer, only being interrupted with the door creaking open. Felix and Hyunjin stand there, teary and red-eyed.

"Your time's up," Hyunjin sniffles, moving out of the way of the door so the two can exit.

"We'll be back," Chan leans down to kiss your forehead while Minho grabs your hand, giving it an assuring squeeze.

They leave, and Felix and Hyunjin scurry in after them. They crowd around your bedframe, hesitant to even lay a hand on you.

"Hey," you whisper, reaching over to grab both of their hands, "I'm okay."

Hyunjin breaks down in sobs, and it only takes Felix a minute before he's right there with him. You let go of their hands and open your arms to welcome them in for a hug. Both of them hesitate again, but eventually bend down to give you the gentlest hug you've ever received.

"Does it hurt?" Felix mumbles, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders.

"They've got me on some serious meds, so no. It probably will when I come off of them, though. I haven't tried to walk-"

"And you wont either. Not for a long while," your mom cuts in from the couch.

"Thanks for your input, Mom."

"No problem," her gaze shifts to the boys, "She's been moody since she came out of surgery. They say it's because of the meds." They both let out a huffy laugh at that, and while you're absolutely dying to argue, you're just thankful to see Hyunjin and Felix smile.

There's another knock at the door, and all your heads snap to Changbin and Jisung. "Our turn," Jisung says, gesturing for Felix and Hyunjin to get out.

"We'll see you soon," Felix says before making his way to the door.

"Love you," Hyunjin says, hugging you for a second longer.

"Love you, too," you tell him, and you watch as he gets up and walks toward the door.

Once they're gone, Jisung and Changbin come into the room.

"Chan is never letting you out of his sight again; you know that, right?" Changbin asks, pulling up a chair beside you.

"Uh, not just Chan, all of us," Jisung argues. "You know how when girls go out they all have to, like, go to the bathroom together? That's about to be us bestie."

"Um, ew," you grimace just thinking about all your privacy being stripped from you.

"We'll wait outside, of course," Changbin says, trying to make you feel better.

"Oh, how thoughtful," you sass back, giving them a sarcastic smile.

"But for real though, are you ok?" The atmosphere turns serious at Jisung's inquisition. "We were all worried sick about you."

"I guess I could be better, but I'm gonna be just fine. Doc said some physical therapy and I'll be good as new."

"Did you know they didn't even realize you were an idol at first?" Changbin says, piquing your interest. "They said they thought they just picked up some random person at the cafe. Apparently that's why they kept you knocked out for so long; it made things more complicated."

"I did not know that, actually. The police only gave me a quick run down, said they'd be back later for some more questioning and to give us some more information."

Another knock is heard at the door, and you look to see Seungmin and I.N standing there, the last of your boys. "Our turn now, move along," Seungmin says, tapping his foot impatiently.

"That's our cue, we'll see you later." They both lean down to give you a kiss on the cheek before walking out of the room.

Seungmin and I.N come in, seeming even more urgent than Chan and Minho did earlier.

They both come crashing down on top of you, all concern for the wires attached to you out the window.

Wanting to tease them, you say, "What if I was, like, seriously hurt? And now you two just came running in here like a pack of wild animals?"

"Give me a break, everybody said you were fine and that you were accepting hugs," Seungmin throws back, giving you a firm poke in the side.

You bark out a laugh at that, a smile gracing your features. "They also said that you hadn't smiled yet. So there," Seungmin nuzzles his head back into your shoulder, and you feel him breath a sigh against your neck.

"We missed you," I.N says from the other side where he's latched onto your arm.

"I missed you guys more."

"Not possible, I'd never seen any of the guys so worked up before. Chan didn't sleep the whole time you were gone, and as soon as we convinced him to, they found you," Seungmin says.

"Well, I'm here now," you comfort them, rubbing a hand on each of their backs.

"And we're never letting you go again."

~ ~ ~

Part 1

[kopilot-pop]

[New Jeans x Oldest Member! Reader] - #3

-imagine.

Summary: Silly little fics of you and the gorls. You’re basically the tired father figure in their lives.

Warning(s): Cursing, car accident?, bribing a worker?,!crack humor, Hanni has a stalker, you get violent, etc.

A/N: This is like really unserious lmao. I wrote it really lighthearted. Also, this was written over the course of the whole Ador vs Hybe situation. So please understand I’m slowly becoming more unhinged as the story goes.

———————————————————————

#1

You’re strong. I mean physically strong. All of New Jeans, hell, ADOR knows that.

Oh where’s Y/n unnie?; She’s out for a jog.

Unnie is your hand okay?; Yeah, I just had a sparring match today.

That’s just a part of your life.

Fans adore this about you, the girls adore this about you, and today, you’ve come to appreciate this fact too.

Especially when a stalker decided to show his face again at the airport.

It’s been about 2 months since you’ve last seen the man. He went viral on the news (by news I mean Dispatch) for being Hanni’s stalker.

The last time you met him - oh, it was ugly.

He snuck into a performance venue disguised as a staff member. You were the one that caught him lurking near the MC waiting room.

‘Hanni’s supposed to be in there.’

Five. seconds.

That’s all it took for Hanni’s scream to pierce your ear.

The stalker barged into the room, grabbed the girl, and attempted to drag her towards the exit.

You don’t remember much after that scene.

Actually you might remember punching his face something and throwing something him across the wall, but that doesn’t really matter does it?

It mattered alot to Dispatch, who got a hold of the security footage, and decided to share it for the world to see.

The whole situation cause alot of debates of “Oh he’s a stalker. He deserved it. Good job Y/n!” versus “Wow, you didn’t have to get that violent Y/n.”, and in the end, the company decided to put you on a short hiatus and a long scolding from the producer.

Currently, you guys are standing across a crosswalk in front of the airport. The six of you are scheduled to perform in Paris in a few days and decided to get there early to settle in. You all planned a short vacation before having a whole week of dancing after dancing.

So imagine your surprise to see the dirty little freak right between the paparazzis - with a broken camera, might I add - staring at your group.

After acknowledging his presence, you quickly turned to Hanni - hoping that she didn’t notice him yet.

Unfortunately, you were too late.

Hanni’s body was slightly shaking and you could see the fear in her eyes as she stares directly towards the area where the stalker is.

Instinctively, you rushed to her side, and held her waist with your arm.

“I’m not letting him get to you, bub.”

“I.. oh you saw him too?”

“Mm-hm, and I’ll sucker-punch him if he tries to touch you again, alright?”

Hanni giggles, “Nooo, I don’t want you to be stuck in our dorms again!”

“I think it’ll be worth it if I get to break his nose this time, no?”

Minji - overhearing your conversation - butts in.

“Please don’t break anybody’s nose today unnie.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Minji gives you a skeptical look and you give her an innocent smile.

When the crosswalk light turns green, the whole group starts to walk through the group of people, as security tries to make enough room for you guys to pass.

The six of you were just about to manage through the gates when Hanni’s pained scream cuts through the air. You snap your head towards your right to see the same stalker gripping a fist-full of her hair.

And in just a millisecond, a loud crack replaces the girl’s scream.

The paparazzis’ cameras went wild with flashes - all trying to capture how you grabbed the man by his collar and slammed your fist right into his nose. Your pupils were blown wide, piercing right through the stalker writhing on the floor.

“Y/N!!”

Minji was the only one quick enough to snap out of her shock and grab onto you before you could attempt to break anymore of his bones..

Yeah, guess you’re not making it to Paris.

———————————————————————

#2

“UNNIE!! Look at this!!”

Danielle happily skips over to the rack filled to the brim with different bunny plushies. You, her and Haerin all decided to go to a state fair that was happening only an hour away from the hotel.

Technically, you were dragged here by the two of them, but that doesn’t matter.

You watched as the girls looked through the pile of plushies while sipping in your smoothie.

‘Is this what parenthood feels like..’

When the two of them finally chose a bunny they liked, they simultaneously looked over to you… expectingly..

“What. Wait. I already bought us food?”

They nod.

“And hats, I bought us three hats.”

They nod, again.

They’re now directly under your nose, giving you those big puppy eyes. Sweat drips down your back, and it’s definitely not because of the Texas heat.

With a exasperated sigh, you reach into your back pocket and take out your card.

“Excuse me, how much for two of those plushies?”

“Oh, so sorry, but those aren’t for sale. You have to win 50 tickets to win two of them!”

The worker gives you a smile and continues helping out a family near the shooting range. When you turn around, Danielle has a clear pout on her face.

“Aww.. I thought I could buy them..”

“Not you, I could buy them.”

“Potato po-tah-to.”

For a moment you think of the choices you have. It’s either waste cash on a rigged shooting range, give up on the plushes, and.. oh.

“Can the two of you get wait in line for the bucket of cookies over there? Here-”

You hand over a 20$ bill. Danielle squeals happily and Haerin finally has a tiny smile on her face. The older girl grabs her hand and runs towards the stand.

As soon as they turn their backs on you, you slither over to the worker again.

“I need the plushies.”

“Wha- oh it’s you again. Look man, we have a policy that we can’t sell the prizes for c-cash.. wha..what is that..”

You quickly tuck a 100 dollar bill into his front pocket and give him an innocent smile.

“Dude, this isn’t a drug deal, I- ugh, fine, I’ll grab you the fucking plushies”

“Thank you :D”

You carry the two bunny plushies in your arms and a giant teddy bear the man gave you in return for a signature to give to his sister.

You awkwardly walk towards your groupmates while balancing the giant furball on your back.

“Y/n unnie!!! Oh my god! What is that?!”

Danielle looks clearly surprised, but you can tell she’s having a hard time containing her smile. Haerin’s trying her best to help you with the teddy bear.

“I.. uh…-holyshitthisisheavy- I hit the jack pot! Yeah, jackpot….”

You give them a toothy grin, not noticing the group of people taking photos of the three of you, and definitely not realizing the absolute fever Twitter is having over the pictures.

———————————————————————

#3

“I’m telling you guys, nothing’s gonna happen-”

A loud scream cuts off Minji as a ghost jumps out from the wardrobe.

Hanni and Danielle screams louder than the ghost, and runs into your arms in fear. You turn around to see Minji in the same situation as you - just with Hyein.

“Nevermind…” Minji rolls her eyes as the actor scurries off to a different room.

But her nonchalant behavior doesn’t last long when something under the bed grabs her ankle. She screams and - quite literally - jumps into your arms.

“WHY DID YOU CHOOSE A HAUNTED HOUSE FOR YOUR BUCKET LIST.”

The moment you let down a wide-eyed Minji, Hanni grabs your collar and shakes you; Pretty sure she’s trying to get revenge, but having absolutely no impact.

“Ack- I thought it would be fun..”

“FUN?! YOU THINK GHOSTS AND DEAD PEOPLE ARE FUN???!!!”

While Hanni growls at you with tears in her eyes, Haerin bravely opens the next door, only to be met with a doll dropped right in front of her face.

The shock causes her to let out a scream-

‘My ears are ringing.’

which you never expected from her - and run towards you to use your body as a shield.

“ALRIGHT, you guys stand behind me, and I’ll open all the doors, okay? That way I’m the one being threatened by the next ghoul or whatever…”

The girls nod their heads in unison. Hanni finally lets go of your collar to grip onto your left arm.

You cautiously kick open several doors, trying to find the exit, and on the third try you finally find another long corridor with a glowing exit sign at the end. The 6 of you slowly walk towards it but freezes when the buzzing sound of a chainsaw starting echoes from behind.

You’re the only one brave enough to turn around and see the clown standing in the middle of the room you guys just left.

“Okay, don’t panic but there’s a clown-”

The girls scream in unison as they sprint towards the exit like their life depends on it. You follow suit, and use your body to bust down the last door.

The whole group falls toward the ground together, and the younger girls naturally grab onto you, tightly closing their eyes in fear.

“Um… Congrats…?”

When you see the employee standing behind the counter, you sigh in relief that the haunted house is over.

“Guys, we escaped the house.”

They finally detach from you to take a look around their surroundings.

“Oh! Well that was nothing.” Hanni scoffs confidently, causing everyone around her to let out a deep sigh.

———————————————————————

#4

“We got into a car accident.”

“WHAT?!”

You jump up from the bed - almost dropping your phone - and check the contact name again.

“Yeah, I think Haerin unnie has a concussion.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.”

You quickly put the phone on speaker and fumble around to find your jacket.

“Yeah.. so since Haerin unnie got her license we decided to take your car out for a drive..”

“Wait, wait- MY CAR?!”

“Yeah, you said we can take it out whenever we want? Anyways, we decided to go to the beach… but the road was really messy, I think my phone is glitched, unnie.”

“HUH?!”

“We kinda went down this hill… blah blah blah… we hit a telephone poll- blah blah….”

“Oh my god.”

You rush out the door to the location Hyein has told you. When you arrive, you spot the girls and your BMW M3 that you recently acquired after begging your uncle for 3 months to sell it to you.

With a quick glance you can tell that - thankfully - the car is only a little scratched up, so you immediately turn your attention to the girl curled up in the driver’s seat.

Haerin’s head is against the handle with both of her arms covering her face. Her knuckles are almost white.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

The only response you receive is a tiny groan from the younger girl.

“Hyein said you might have a concussion? Can you look at me sweetheart?”

“She’s been like this the whole time.” Hyein chimes in.

“The car can be fixed, it’s fine, just a scratch. But it’s more important to me if you’re fine, bub.”

With that a few seconds of silence passes and you finally get a tiny ‘I’m okay’ from Haerin.

“Alright then, let’s move you to the backseat so I can drive us to the hospital, okay? Hyein, get in the passenger seat.”

“Hell yeah! Shotgun!!”

You carry Haerin to the backseat, but as you try to get her seatbelt on, you finally notice the frown on her face.

“Haerin, I’m not disappointed you guys took my car out. I told you guys you’re free to do that. However, I am upset that you guys weren’t careful and got hurt. Okay? We can talk about that after we check if the two of you are fine.”

“What- me too?”

“YES, YOU TOO. YOU WERE ALSO IN THE CAR!”

Hyein pouts at your disbelief. You sigh and give Haerin a peck on her forehead, and hurry to your seat to get to the hospital.

“Put your seatbelt on bub, I’m speeding to the ER.”

“W-wait, you just told us to be caref-AHHH!!”

———————————————————————

A/N: This was fun to write lol.

[daisiescomelate]

Checkout line

Prompt: Sukuna is too proud to ask for cuddles so you pretty much have to guess what he's pouting about when he does. But this time if he wants cuddles, he will have to explicitly ask for them.

Content: Sukuna/Reader, silly, jealous sukuna, toji cameo, unwelcomed flirting, cursing.

div. k1ssyoursister - masterlist

It always starts with Sukuna sitting a little bit closer than usual and being especially quiet.

It is the most subtle of changes, that’s why you miss it most of the time.

You sat on the sofa on your phone and Sukuna –who is normally a big fan of his personal space and is always keeping himself busy with something– sat on the other end of the couch and stared at the wall without saying anything.

When proximity was not enough to call your attention, he sighed loudly, spreading his legs on the cushions and his arms over the back of the couch. He throws his head back and looks at the ceiling, waiting for you to ask him what's wrong.

'Nothing' he would answer, and look away from you; so you would ignore it and keep doing your thing.

When being dramatic didn't work he would throw side glances your way, and you had to be very dense to miss them because he was in no way subtle about it. He would bounce his leg up and down, crack his neck and knuckles or even click his tongue. Anything but calling your name and telling you what he wanted.

Normally that would let you know he wanted something, but sometimes you had your mind on something else and you let it be.

If that didn't do the trick either you would be facing a problem, because Sukuna's next tactic to gain attention was starting a fight.

It was cute, needy Sukuna throwing a tantrum. You never knew why he refused to ask for a hug or to lay his head on your lap directly, but Sukuna's pouty lips had their charm. And today you felt like playing him around for a bit.

“The brat told me the cashier from the grocery store flirted with you again”, he suddenly spoke.

There it was.

He had the tendency to start fights when he wanted something from you because you had the habit of offering pets and kisses in exchange for forgiveness, or to help him calm down when he was particularly cranky.

It was true.

That morning Yuuji and you went to the store together to restock on food and snacks.

Sukuna had been up late trying to fix a plumbing issue in the bathroom so you didn't want to bother him so early in the morning, but postponing the task for later also felt like an inconvenience.

You called the youngest of the Itadori for some company and he turned up to be planning on running his errants as well. To celebrate such coincidence, you both agreed on going to a coffee shop together to have breakfast after going to the store while the grumpy ghoul slept.

So you picked Yuuji up and drived with him to the market, and you both got there early enough to avoid any of the exhausting waiting lines.

But after you finish gathering all the items on your list, because you were chatting with Yuuji the whole time, you didn't realize you both had queued behind a lady over that man's station.

The first time you crossed paths with this cashier a few weeks ago, his eyes had pissed you off a little bit, even when his words might have sounded sweet to anyone else. You thought a sterned look would be enough to shut him up for good, but apparently it wasn't because he had tried again that very morning.

It was infuriating.

You raged about the guy and his condescendent smile the whole way to the car. Yuuji had also wanted to go back and complain to someone about the man because he had also perceived his nasty attitude. You wished you could, but at the time you decided against it –for Yuuji's sake.

Yuuji was a ray of sunshine, always kind and smiling. But he was still an Itadori. His personality could be deceiving for what laid under the surface, he was just as predisposed to get into fights as his brother. Ugly fights.

You would get the guy next time. You couldn't afford getting Yuuji into trouble because of that asshole.

So you moved on with your day. Yuuji and you eventually forgot all about it after some cake and tea at the cafe, reason why the whole deal didn't come to mind when you finally came back home to a Sukuna that had just rolled out of bed on sweatpants and without a shirt on, and whose hair spiked in every direction. It was a sight that often made you forget about things.

But now that uncomfortable situation could be of use to you.

“Oh... Was that what it was?” You said non chantlant without lifting your eyes from your phone.

Sukuna scolded you with his expression, crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Was it the same dude as last time?”

“Yeah… I think it was. The big guy with the black hair and the scar on his lip.” You saw him clench his jaw on the corner of your eyes. He sat up straight, fully turning at you with the whole intention of seeming offended.

“And what did you do about it?”, he asked with a stern voice.

You guessed deep down, it was annoying for him to hear about another guy flirting with his partner, but if that really were a problem for him he would be less sulky and more –like you said before– picking up the car and going to find the guy for a quick talk.

Right now Sukuna was probably half putting up an act, half wary about your odd reaction to him being defensive about something. Normally when he used that tone with you, you would match it, annoyed at him for talking to you as if accusing you of something.

You kept to your roll, not letting him stir you.

Calm and collected.

“There was not much to do about it. He just gave me a compliment, I said ‘thank you’ and paid for my groceries.”

In truth you told him to go to hell.

Maybe you should ask Sukuna to have a quick talk with the guy.

“Is that all? ‘Just a compliment’? Did you even mention that you had a boyfriend?”

Oh, the guy sure knew that. After all, the first time he hit on you Sukuna was right beside you and he was very vocal about what he thought he should do with his compliments.

“He didn’t ask.”

“He didn’t—?!”, he inhaled sharply. His next line was delivered between greeted teeth, “Don’t you remember how much you complained about him flirting with you even after you told him that we were there together, two weeks ago?”

“Yes, I remember. But if you think about it he wasn’t doing anything wrong.” Bullshit. You paused hiding a smirk, feeling his burning gaze of disbelief from the side. “Also, he’s very good looking. I was kind of flattered.” Yeah, right.

At your comment, Sukuna stood out from the couch as if his pants were on fire. “’Good looking’”, he repeated fuming, “’flattered’”.

“Yes,” you added for some flavor, “you don’t compliment me like you used to. It was nice to hear it.”

“THAT I DON’T—” Sukuna repeated as a broken record, incredulous.

Sukuna wasn't the type to give compliments with words. Yes, he said them because he knew you liked them, but when he actually saw something he liked about you he was more... physical about it. Pulling you close, kissing and staring in a way that made your skin tingle and your blood go hot. Sometimes he made you feel as if he could actually take a bite out of you, he would.

Sukuna walked the few steps that separated the two of you in a blink. You dropped your phone so you could see him in the eyes. One of his eyebrows twitched out of pure anger. Soon he was bending over you on the couch, both his hands pressing over the cushions next to each of your shoulders, cornering you.

“You’re needy for more of my attention, is that what you’re saying?”

You bit your lip to keep a smile from slipping out of you. You could never get enough of Sukuna's attention, that's for sure. You reinforce your serious expression. “I kind of do, yes.”

His nostrils flattered open as he snorted at your complaint.

“C’mon, Suku”, you chimed, seeing your scheme work. “Don’t be angry. I know you don’t do it on purpose.” You flashed an angelic smile at him, “No hard feelings, really. Why don’t you lay on the sofa so I can give you pets?”

“I don’t want your pets”, he bit off.

Ding, ding, ding!

We have a winner!

“You are right,” he said while still looking enraged, “I neglected you, let’s fix that right now.”

Yes! Let's fix that– wait.

It took you a second to understand what he meant but it was long enough for you to not be able to react in time to avoid the way he locked his hands on your hips.

“Suku, wait.” You tried to stop him but your protest fell on deaf ears as he used all his strength to pick you up from the couch. “Suku! You're gonna drop me, hold on.”

Sukuna lifted you up without showing much effort, in a way that left you no other choice but to wrap your legs around his waist for balance. He adjusted your weight so he could hold you properly.

“Don’t get all cranky now, I’m trying to mend my mistake.” You held on to him as best as you could, pirsing the back of his neck with your nails, while he walked with you on his arms towards the other side of the room. "Poor you, needing strangers to compliment you because your boyfriend wouldn't do his job right."

“Suku, it was a joke!”

“Joke or not, it’s true that I haven’t taught you some manners in a while.” He said and he kicked the bedroom door open.

You let out a high pitched cry, and like that, both of you disappear into your bedroom.

A/N: imagine sukuna as a ravish dog you can unleash to go after men that annoy you on the streets.

[lisired]

whisper

pairing: actor/dad’s best friend!doyoung x actress!reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf!doyoung, cheating, secret love affair, age gap (21+), minor impact play, loads of praise with a hint of degradation, protected and unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap ur willy), oral (f receiving), fingering, non-idol actor!au, yet another special appearance by mark lee, taeyong is mcs dad im sorry.

summary: When you were nineteen, you could only dream of meeting Kim Doyoung in his sheets. Behind his back you watched all the movies he starred in, wanting nothing more than to be the one he touched whenever a sex scene came on. So when the opportunity surfaced four years later after you’re casted together in the same movie, you didn’t hesitate to snag it - even if it meant hiding from his wife, your father, and the public. And even if feelings developed.

word count: 8.9k

a/n: 2/4 of the Temptation series. Feedback is appreciated!

Doyoung was doing what people called, “living the dream.”

More like he did an excellent job at convincing people he was. There was something humorous to you about the article concerning the allegedly perfect life of your co-star. It summed his life up as, “happily married with a child, thriving with a successful career in the entertainment industry, and age having yet to catch up to him.”

You supposed what they said wasn’t entirely false. Thirty-six years into his life, Doyoung was still fairly young. He had a beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter, and loved his job with a passion, but beneath all of that beauty was the ugly he had carefully tucked out of the public’s prying eyes. His marriage was more loveless and affair-filled than the show he put on gave away.

And you were a culprit.

The story was a long one. For you, it started when you were nineteen. That year was a grand one for Doyoung as he was getting booked left to right and it begun his legacy as “the actor with the steamy sex scenes.” You watched every single movie. Scene after scene, you wondered how he made something so hot look so realistic, and imagined being the one under him.

Little did you know, your dreams would come true four years later. When you were asked roughly two years ago to star alongside Kim Doyoung in an upcoming romantic drama by the name of Whisper, you couldn’t deny the opportunity. A part of you feared what your father would think of the role, considering Doyoung was a good friend of his, but you were relieved when he wasn’t bothered. He called it “the beauty of acting.”

It was too bad that everything you felt for Doyoung was unable to be faked. You were far beyond attracted to him, on a level that the public nor your father, should’ve, would’ve, and could’ve ever known.

A knock jerked you from your thoughts. Your father stood by the door, peering in as he announced, “Hey, love. Doyoung’s here.”

Fighting your smile was too hard. Now that you were going to star in a movie together you and Doyoung met up often these days, even though you no longer were in the stage of what he dubbed perfecting your chemistry (but all that ever meant was sneaking away into his sheets.)

It stung to wonder if he slept with all his co-stars. No wonder their sex scenes looked so natural, the emotion had to be raw.

Shoving the thought into the back of your head, you rose from your bed and replied, “Alright. I’ll be back tonight, love you.”

“Love you too, dear. Have fun!”

Doyoung was standing outside the front door when you arrived there. He smiled gently, outstretching his hand kindly and waiting for you to slip your fingers between his, which you did promptly. “Missed me?”

Oh, did you. With the movie being a priority for you both, there was never a large gap in between times that you saw one another, but your new-found attachment to Doyoung made every second seem to drag on. You woke up every morning and couldn’t wait to see him.

You groaned, “You have no idea.”

Doyoung chuckled. He opened the car door for you and once you were seated, leaned into your ear and whispered, “Why don’t you show me how much when we get home?”

There was no confusion on how he managed to persuade you into his sheets. On-screen and off-screen Doyoung was relentlessly sexy, and his voice alone sent shivers down your spine. You loved when he whispered dirty things in your ear like that. It was gentle yet hot, and made your whole body tense with desire.

“Y-yeah,” you murmured in your best attempt at feigning unaffectedness. Actor to actress however, Doyoung could see right through you. He knew you wanted him and it amused him how poor of a job you did at hiding it. 

On the way to his house, you tried to think of anything but the surge of arousal between your thighs. What you were meant to be doing was crafting impeccable chemistry. Doyoung was an actor known for his undeniable chemistry with his costars and the raunchy sex scenes that came from them, and you being his best friend’s daughter made you no exception to his streak.

You were to play the role of a mistress of an heir who had his life painted perfectly and was adored by his country. In reality, his marriage was complicated and brittle and he turned to a mistress to relieve himself of the things he couldn’t seek in his wife. It was almost amusing to you that the drama seemed to hit the nail on the head when it came to describing what your relationship had become. You’d be damned if anyone said the acting was anything less than extraordinary - all of the emotion was real.

The car ride came to an abrupt end with your thoughts. Doyoung helped you out of the vehicle and barely let you breathe when you both stepped inside his house. He was pressing you back against the door in a matter of seconds, lips targeting your neck as his fingers worked hungrily to undress you.

“Fuck,” you moaned softly. He was making you impatient. “How much time do we have?”

“The whole day if we wanted. Maya took Daphne to see her grandmother this weekend, and they’ll be gone until Monday morning.”

That sounded like heaven. With the feeling of Doyoung’s body on yours, you were relieved to know that you could savor it longer, without having to race to pleasure. You two had also been working actively on the movie a lot harder than it seemed right now, and these little sexcapades were like much-needed breaks.

As if he could read your mind, Doyoung teased as he slid your shirt down your shoulders, “Bet you like the thought of fucking me all day, huh? You want me all to yourself?”

“Doyoung,” you whimpered.

“Shh, don’t worry, baby,” he crooned, sweeping you into his arms and making a move towards the bedroom, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

It was almost telepathic. There was a mutual understanding between you both that went beyond sex, and that was how you landed yourself in this predicament in the first place; you understood his needs, he understood yours.

“I missed you, too,” Doyoung announced quietly as he pushed your panties to the side, helping himself to your pussy. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

You replied in the midst of a moan, “Thinking about me?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed and leaned closer to your ear, “A lot. Thinking about you under me. On me. Thinking about how needy you are and get from the smallest things. Thinking about how cute you sound when I touch you and how shy you get when I tell you what I wanna do to you.”

His honesty would be the death of you. Doyoung was open yet tender in the way that he expressed things, completely unafraid of intimacy and letting you know that he wanted you. He never let you forget that he adored every aspect of your body, showering you in kisses and more often than not, praises in the form of whispers.

You were weak, and it didn’t help that at the same time he was telling you things that made your heart race, his fingers were also pacing in and out of you. He was no longer a want - you needed him inside of you, now.

“Fuck me already,” you cried, your patience dissipating rapidly.

Disapproving of your attitude, Doyoung delivered a smack to your thigh that made you cry out once more. “Where’s your manners?”

You had forgotten them - and anything that wasn’t the growing ache between your thighs, for that matter. It was safe to say that your eagerness had taken over you, although you knew Doyoung would give you everything you wanted as long as you behaved. He was always gentle unless you gave him a reason to be the opposite, and that was on rare occasions. But once he decided to show you no mercy, you were doomed. And you didn’t even want to think about not cumming.

“Doyoung, please fuck me,” you corrected yourself, adding for good measure, “I need you. So bad, it hurts.”

He hummed, satisfied. “Well we can’t have that, can we?”

Doyoung withdrew his fingers and whirled you around, hushing you with a kiss before you could whimper any complaint. All you could focus on was the taste of his tongue in your mouth, grounding yourself with his shoulders as the gesture had caught you off-guard. Meanwhile he was tugging your panties off, with help from you as you lifted your legs.

He cupped your pussy again and you moaned into his mouth before he parted and asked, “You want me?”

“Yes,” you replied a little too fast. “Please.”

“Then show me.”

It was obvious what he meant by showing him. He wanted you to ride him, and you weren’t one to argue. You’d take Doyoung in any position he was willing to try. You just needed him in you.

Doyoung was never too bent on specific positions, either. He was always the one in control, but he was firm enough in himself that he didn’t need to be on top to show power. Even if it was your body making the movements, it was him telling you what to do. Most of the time you had no problem bending to his will.

Right now was one of those times. You yanked down his boxers, discarding them onto the ground with your own underwear in a hurry and didn’t hesitate to reach out for his hard-on. With you already straddling him, you took the base of his dick in your palm, placing on him the condom he passed you then slid onto him.

The two of you moaned in perfect sync once you sank down on him. You could come up with several perks of fucking Doyoung, but one of your favorites was that no matter how much he liked to whisper, he was a vocal moaner by nature. Doyoung was a master at silencing himself whenever he deemed it necessary, however you loved when he refused to restrain himself and even more that he was unashamed; he loved expression through sex and pleasure.

He sounded like an angel, too. It felt like traveling through a portal to heaven whenever Doyoung moaned your name.

Doyoung asked once you had adjusted, “How you feeling, baby?”

“Good,” you sighed out in bliss. He was so deep inside you that you could barely breathe. “And full.”

“Of course. You take it like no one before you, baby girl,” he praised, and all the while you felt like the room was spinning.

Doyoung was indirectly stating that you were a better fuck than his wife. You didn’t like to think about Doyoung fucking other people when it wasn’t movies, but there was a reason that he was balls deep inside you right now instead of her. Everything that she could do, he realized, you could do better. Much, much better.

Deflecting the attention, you asked, “How do you feel?”

“I’m good too, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” Doyoung growled with zero hesitation. He was so fucking hot. You saw him barely fighting the utmost smug grin when you clenched around him.

He was better than anyone else before him too, in every fashion. No one had ever made your skin swelter the way Doyoung had. He said a word or made a bare touch and it was as though your whole body was consumed by flames. Somehow he made every moment feel as blissful as the first time, and every touch grazed upon your flesh by his fingertips lingered on you for days. Memories of what you’d done always replayed in your mind until you could have another taste.

Doyoung couldn’t be paid to keep his hands off of you. He steered you with a single hand clutching your waist and the other played to its content on your chest, bearing in mind that you always loved when he touched you there. Your body was a diamond to him - beautiful and precious, and he never got bored of you. Doyoung had seen you bare and naked an ungodly amount of times before, but each time he fell endlessly in love with it over and over again. He was utterly sure that he could never get bored of fucking you, and the feeling that accompanied it.

He pressed kisses to your neck, murmuring in between, “You ride me so good, baby.”

You were certain that you could explode. Doyoung had too much power over the entirety of your body. He made your pussy throb but your heart hammer, and sometimes he made you so nervous you wanted to cower. But there was nowhere - nothing to hide. You were both naked and exposed, skin to skin, uncovering your deepest emotions with the sex.

There was nowhere to run and you didn’t want to be anywhere if it wasn’t beside him.

The rest of the day dragged on like that - you and Doyoung fucking each other’s brains out, taking turns with different positions. You’d fuck, take a break to do something productive, then ultimately wind up having sex again. There was no self control when it came to either of you, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves. 

And frankly, you didn't want to.

As an actress, maybe facades should have been second nature to you. You were the daughter of a director and sucked into the industry due to nepotism - it should have been practically flowing in your bloodstream. But you underestimated just how hard pretending you weren’t hooking up with one of your dad’s friends was.

Especially his best friend.

The reason your dad trusted Doyoung so much was because they were close, having known one another since before you were even a thought meandering in your parents’ mind. Your dad mentored Doyoung since he was nine years old until he didn’t need it anymore. That also meant he was around you often - around your entire family. Including your dad. Ignoring the rhythm of your heartbeat when he was around you and the uneasy tension between you became easier with time, but subduing the feeling completely was impossible. Much less possible when he found ways to tease you in secret.

You were at a party at your dad’s house and Doyoung had been unabashedly eye-fucking you all evening long. That alone made it obvious what he wanted, but it was all in the way he touched you too. Locking arms with you and grazing his hands against you seductivelyf when no one else was looking. It was risky, but you had to admit, it made it a little fun.

By the time the party was over though, you were sure all that lust had dulled into fatigue. Doyoung looked worn-out and gone as he rested on the couch, the last of your guests and unable to drive home because of how much liquor he’d consumed. That was what you overheard him telling your dad, at least. He insisted on getting an Uber, but your dad told him to take the guest room and some Aspirin in the morning.

Doyoung pulled your dad in for a brief hug. “Thanks, Taeyong. See you in the morning.”

“Of course,” Taeyong replied. “And go easier on the alcohol next time. You know you can’t handle too much.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Doyoung teased.

With a laugh, your dad patted him on the back and wished him goodnight, then went to join your mother in bed. You peered from around the corner, suspicion bottling up in your chest. It was possible that he was, but you didn’t want to be faced with the disappointment of it being true.

Arms folded across your chest, you asked, “You really drunk, babe?”

For a split second, Doyoung had looked surprised to hear you accusing him of feigning his intoxication. Then it wore off, and he chuckled. He looked around the hallway, and once he confirmed that you both were alone, admitted, “You caught me.”

You were a bit shocked to know that he was sober, but not that he’d feign inebriety - that didn’t surprise you. If Doyoung was set on having something he’d stop at almost nothing to get what he wanted. He did a damn good job at fooling everyone, too. You were under the impression that he was drunk and only confronted him for your own sake.

“Of course,” you murmured, then pressed, “May I ask your motive?” you had already known, but for some reason you wanted to lay down some cards to see what move he’d make.

Doyoung saw right through you, however. He always did. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t play dumb with me, baby. You know exactly what my motive is.”

And like always, that had you ready to drop your panties in a heartbeat.

“Meet me in the guest room in 30,” he commanded, then turned away in the direction of said room.

No more than thirty minutes later, you were in bed with him. This time he was the one hovering above you, and it made you feel as though you were being preyed on - a billion times more susceptible to anything that he desired to do to your body and you loved it. Doyoung was in full reign. He always had been, but something different sparked whenever he was constantly making the moves for you.

“Want it?” Doyoung asked in between short-lived kisses, ones that never felt like enough no matter how many he pressed to your skin because he was adamant on not applying enough pressure to result in marking you. Lord knew it was all he ever wanted, but it was too risky. Not only would your family grow curious, public speculation would grow about a possible love affair.

You breathed out, “Need it.”

Doyoung chuckled, yet every sign of amusement faded the very moment he prodded the head of his dick inside you. There was nothing but sheer pleasure swarming his face like gloomy storm clouds. Reminding himself that you weren’t necessarily alone, he bit his lip to suppress the sounds he was ever so tempted to make.

You, on the other hand, subconsciously leaned towards the careless side. This wasn’t your first rodeo, but the problem was that the experience never dulled the more you had sex; it did the opposite. Each time was better than the last and you struggled to hide how much Doyoung aroused you. Every single touch, thrust, and whisper had you falling apart at the seams. You simply couldn’t resist emitting even the quietest of moans and although Doyoung loved hearing you moan for him, he needed you to keep your voice to a minimum.

“Shh,” Doyoung whispered, cupping his palm over your mouth as he looked you dead in the eye. “Don’t want your daddy to know that I’m fucking you limp, do you?”

You shook your head in vehement denial. Although the walls were thick and the guest bedroom and your parents bedroom were on entirely different wings, Doyoung still didn’t want to get too comfortable unless the house was completely vacanted. You didn’t blame him. It was much better to be safe than sorry.

“Then stop being a brat and shut your mouth before I have to do it for you.”

That tempted you to fuck around and find out what that entailed, but you wouldn’t take the risk here. Instead you bit down on your lip and squeezed your eyes shut whenever he made a sharp thrust.

Other noises that were beyond your individual control made it all too obvious that you were having sex. The slight creak of the bed and the slapping noise of your skin joining together whenever Doyoung thrusted his hips into yours. All it would take was someone wandering a little too close in proximity to the bedroom to tell what was going on, but as forementioned, your parents were on the opposite wing. That made it easier to focus on Doyoung. The way his mouth fell agape in silent moans or his teeth dug into his bottom lip to conceal his pleasure. The way his grip on your waist tightened whenever you clenched around him. Whatever it was he did, you were completely entranced by his reactions.

Doyoung only mirrored your awe as he watched the way your cunt swallowed him greedily. He could see the print of his bulge flat against your stomach and it sent him into overdrive. If anything, he only began pounding you harder in spite of the noise, leaving you to grip the sheets for dear life and let your eyes roll back.

“Always so tight for me,” Doyoung growled. “Don’t I fuck you enough?”

You whimpered in response as quietly as you could, “I need more.”

“My greedy little slut,” he sighed out in bliss, hips seemingly rocking into you deeper as he fulfilled your wish. Something about him claiming you as his possession was exhilarating to you. You were his greedy little slut. “Gonna fuck you all night long, baby.”

God, you knew he could. It wouldn’t be the first time Doyoung fucked you right into the mattress round after round, until you physically and mentally tapped out - and it damn sure wouldn’t be the last.

Having sex with Doyoung was everything nineteen-year-old you dreamed it would be, and then some. The movies had nothing on the real experience. They were graphic and arousing, but having Doyoung hold and touch you already made you feel as if your head was in the clouds. He made you feel wanted with his kisses and praises directed to you specifically, and the sexual tension between you was practically as good as the sex itself. Every moment with him was intimate and there was nothing better than being able to say that you had the Kim Doyoung in your sheets.

Then there also wasn’t some big explanation. Doyoung simply fucked you good and gave you sex on the ceiling. He knew your body inside out and was your greatest vice. It was natural that you were inclined to come back to someone who fucked you better than anyone else.

Doyoung’s pace began to quicken yet his thrusts became shallower, and by then - after the multiple occasions that you’d spent fucking and sucking the life out of one another - you knew well enough that it was a signal he was close. To say nothing of the moans you could tell he was struggling to contain. You weren’t any better yourself, feeling the knot inside you tightening. Both your bodies were aching for a release. 

“Cum for me,” Doyoung exhaled, the drive of his hips fiercer than ever. He was breathless, yet still relentlessly digging you deeper into the mattress without an ounce of mercy.

If nobody heard the two of you going at it all night long, you were sure that there’d be suspicions now that you were going to be walking with a limp.

You cried when you came, “Doyoung!” Your hands scrambled for something to anchor yourself on, anything, the grip of your finger’s moving to claw at his shoulders. Doyoung grimaced and fought a grunt, but it was no secret to you that he was a sucker for a little pain.

Doyoung’s body reacted to yours, releasing into the condom with profanities, followed by the gentle grunt of your name the moment he felt the tightening grip of your walls. You loved when he did that. There was something about Doyoung moaning your name that made you want to finish him all over again, in spite of your sensitivity fresh after orgasming in his hold. If it were possible, you would loop the sound in your brain.

His hips didn’t stop rocking into you even after either of you came, savoring his high until it faded into the post-euphoria of his orgasm. He tossed out the condom, making a mental note to dispose of it properly before he fell asleep, then climbed back in bed with you. “You did well,” he whispered once he joined your side again, embracing you and kissing your skin.

You smiled. “Tired?”

“Honestly? It’s been a long night. I needed this, baby.”

You figured as much. He was fucking you like he worked a nine to five and had a week-load worth of stress to unleash in your pussy. That either meant he was exhausted beyond belief and wanted to sleep, or that there was plenty more where that came from.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking?”

Your ears practically perked up. Doyoung’s thoughts were either interesting or dirty - or a deadly combination of both. “What’s on your mind?”

“I wanna cum in you so damn bad.”

You had a feeling that tonight was a “there’s more where that came from” kind of night.

Doyoung finishing inside you was something that both of you fantasized about from time to time, maybe a little more often. There were risks, however you did your best to stay safe - Doyoung got tested immediately after he found out his wife was cheating on him, and you were on birth control. You didn’t know when the last time him and his wife had sex was, but you doubted it was any time after he started fucking you. The condoms were a force of habit.

“You’re clean, right?”

Doyoung nodded in an instant.

“Then, why don’t you?”

“Oh, baby,” he growled. “Trust me, I would right now if this was my house.”

You almost moaned when he did that. You were turned on all over again, but it wasn’t like you had reached the point of being turned off in the first place. Things worked like that with Doyoung.

“Condom, no condom, I don’t care. Just fuck me,” you whined, desperate to feel him between your walls all over again.

Doyoung wore a smug grin, climbing back onto you without having to be told twice. “Told you, I’m gonna fuck you all night long.”

And he did.

Misconceptions were popular amongst the lives of famous people, and Kim Doyoung was no exception. The public saw only what he was willing to expose - showing off his family and thanking the world for his endless amount of awards. No one would have guessed that a man who seemed to have such a picture-perfect lifestyle would ever be having an affair.

You and Doyoung were a long story. It started after Doyoung realized his wife was cheating on him with a D-list celebrity. By then they already had been arguing here and there, most of it being her fault. He told you that the only reason they hadn’t gone their own separate ways was for the sake of their child.

And then you came along. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Doyoung had always been aware of your attraction towards him. He found it cute but never thought too much of it until you were both casted together in Whisper, and having to work with you on such a sensual movie made tension between you light up in sparks. It wasn’t long before he confronted you, and even less before you got a taste of what people raved about endlessly in articles and on social media. You weren’t the only girl wondering what sex with Doyoung was like, but you were one of the few who would ever actually get to know the experience.

And goddamn, was it a heavenly one.

It really made you think. You’d have to be an absolute idiot to cheat on the fucking Kim Doyoung.

Tonight was the long-awaited movie premiere. Years of filming Whisper made you feel somewhat emotional, maybe because you could relate to your character all too well. The movie was so suspiciously accurate that you caught yourself reflecting and comparing the circumstances. It was a hell of a coincidence, but you knew that there was nothing more to it with the affair occuring only sometime after you’d been casted.

“You look breathtaking in this dress,” Doyoung told you after the red carpet photographs.

“Don’t flatter me,” you murmured, pretending that there weren’t butterflies swarming in your stomach. Your attraction to Doyoung may have grown beyond physical; a little more limitless than you’d like to admit. But that was a story for another day and another time.

Then, he leaned in and whispered, “You gonna let me take it off you tonight?”

You were glad that there was no more press around since you were on the way to the theater. Otherwise people might have caught onto what was a sensual moment for you. You tried your best to feign unbotheredness, but Doyoung left you hot and bothered and you couldn’t hide it.

Your mouth felt dry. “Y-yeah.”

Doyoung was amused. You were easily shy sometimes, yet also no questions asked to his wants. It was always fun seeing the effect he had on you and messing around on purpose just to get a kick out of it.

“I’ll send you a location. Have Mark take you there.”

Mark was your personal Uber - and the only person who knew what was happening between you and Doyoung. Thanks to Doyoung wanting to have car sex one time a year ago and not checking if you were alone, you winded up having to explain your situation to Mark, but he was shockingly understanding. There was no fear or doubt with him and it was a relief.

Doyoung walked off moments later, planting the seed that was growing in your brain. Seeing him dressed up only watered it, you thought he looked just as breathtaking as you were to him. Now you were thinking about getting naked and screwing Doyoung at some random location, and you had no idea how you were going to get through the movie premiere.

The next few hours were probably the longest of your life. They were exciting however, with all the positive reactions and feedback on the movie from your peers. There was dinner and socializing and while you were enjoying yourself tremendously and extremely proud of how the movie turned out, you needed Doyoung on such a greater level that nothing could satiate.

When it was finally time to leave, you hopped in the car and told Mark the location Doyoung had texted you via iMessage. Other than someone who simply worked for you, you also thought of Mark as a good friend. He was closer to your age than he was Doyoung’s, and was always fun to talk to.

“You and Doyoung going at it tonight, huh?”

You laughed. “When don’t we?”

Mark shrugged. It was a good question that he didn’t know the answer to, but he knew that it was none of his business. Unfortunately however, he sucked at minding his own.

“I, have a question…,” he started, sounding hesitant as ever, which only made you curious.

Curiously, you urged him. “Go on.”

“You and Doyoung,” he continued, still reluctant, as if he was taste testing his words before he said them. “Don’t shoot me, but is it just sex? Or have you guys caught feelings?”

Naturally, you opened your mouth to respond, but quickly closed it when you realized that you didn’t have an answer. The simple answer was on the tip of your tongue - Yes. But your relationship with Doyoung was so much more complicated than that, and you hated to think about how he felt towards you. You had been trying to accept that you weren’t supposed to be anything but a pretty plaything for him to run to whenever he was fed up with his wife and needed some relief. Gradually, you were becoming okay with that.

Yet another part of you was hungry for more. That was always how you were. Whenever you got what you wanted, it still wasn’t enough. You were too greedy and insatiable, and desired all the things that were bad for you.

Mark added when he caught onto your silence, “Forget it if I’m being invasive. I just saw you smiling out the window and all bubbly when I mentioned him and I got curious.”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, although you felt like melting into the leather seat. One way or another, you guessed that you’d have to confront your emotions eventually. “To be honest… I think I do like him. And it’s sick because I don’t want to, I shouldn’t want to, I shouldn’t want him. But here we are, and I don’t think he feels the same.”

“I think he does.”

That made you snort. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m deadass,” Mark said without a trace of a smile on his face as you watched him through the rear view mirror. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to fuck me? Yeah.”

“Like he wants you,” Mark corrected. “Like you hung up each fuckin’ star in the sky by hand. I can tell you guys don’t just want to fuck each other. You seem to enjoy each other’s company and with all the times I’ve had to witness you two sucking each other’s tongues in the back of this car I’d be damned if there wasn’t something there.”

You sat there in silent shock. When you thought about it, maybe Mark was correct. You fell in love with how gently and lovingly Doyoung treated you even outside of sex, but you never got your hopes up. Maybe it was just him having the decency to treat you well. Maybe it was the bare minimum that you were swooning over.

But Doyoung went above and beyond when it came to you. He cooked for you whenever you stayed over and held you longer than he needed to. He took you places and bought you things you wanted yet never needed. He seemed to always put you first and was honestly the most selfless person that you knew. That was what you loved about him. He always went the extra mile.

Damn it. You really did want Doyoung.

Mark pulled into the driveway some moments later, and you were surprised to see that your destination wasn’t too far from the venue. It was a nice house with a gate that you told him the code to, and you wondered who’s name it was in and why you hadn’t gone here sooner.

“I’m sorry about what you see,” you responded, a little too late, but Mark didn’t seem to mind. It was understood that you needed a moment to reflect.

Mark shrugged without a care in the world. He smiled and said, “It’s alright as long as I get to see you happy. Now go get him.”

You smiled back. Mark’s words always felt like a pat on the back.

When you rang the doorbell, Doyoung opened the door for you, offering you no time before he swooped you inside and pinned you against the door. You squealed, cut off by his lips latching onto your mouth as he kissed you breathless. You were getting deja vu, recalling the last time that this had happened.

“I have a feeling you missed me,” you said once he pulled you away and let you breathe.

Doyoung pecked your lips, smiling softly against them. “Always.”

Your heart fluttered at the feeling. After your talk with Mark you were now hyper aware of all the little things about Doyoung that you loved, and his cute smile was one of them.

In your attempt to distract yourself from your heartbeat you asked, “Where are we?”

“One of my brother’s houses. He’s not here frequently, said I could use it for the night.”

Even as a wealthy celebrity who thrived off of nepotism, you never understood the rich’s obsession with buying house after house just to hardly live in them. But in this moment you were grateful because it meant that you and Doyoung were all alone, and you could be as loud as and do whatever your hearts desired.

“Oh, I see,” you purred, threading your fingers through his hair. “You must want me screaming my lungs off tonight.”

Doyoung nodded his head. “And that’s not all. I went and got tested again. I haven’t slept with her in a while, or anyone else for that matter, but I just felt like it. It came back negative. I’m clean.”

There were a billion thoughts racing in your mind, and then some. You were throbbing at the idea of Doyoung fucking you raw alone, but to have the opportunity being presented to you was something entirely different. You wanted it. Bad.

“Fuck, you really wanna do this?”

“I really wanna fuck you,” Doyoung said. Then something in him seemed to falter. “Actually no. I don’t just wanna fuck you. I wanna make love to you. I don’t care if it sounds corny, you’re my everything, baby, and I wanna show you that I mean it.”

It took a moment for what he was implying to sink in, but when it did, you were ready. “Show me, then,” you stared him dead in the eye. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can, babe,” Doyoung growled, then crashed his lips back against yours. In the same timeframe you were undressing one another as he aided you to a room, unraveling in the midst of heated fervor.

Your dress landed in a heap on the floor, soon followed by your underwear until you were both stripped bare. You felt exposed, but in an exhilarating way. It meant he was free to do whatever he wished to your body.

Doyoung pinned you to the comforter then went for your skin like he always did, as though showering your body in warm kisses was a natural instinct. Something still felt different. He kissed you slower, gradually making progress down from your collarbone to your thighs. Taking his time to peck your weakest spots. He was showing your body - showing you love.

“Fuck, I wanna mark you so bad,” he said randomly, taking you by surprise. Doyoung had never intentionally marked you, the two of you fearing being suspected, or even caught. “We should get away. Go out of town for a while so that I can mark you, until they clear up.”

You giggled and threaded your fingers through his hair. “Now how would we do that in the middle of promotions - press appearances and interviews?”

Doyoung sighed. “Let me dream.”

That made you giggle again, and Doyoung smiled to himself at the sound. He loved everything about you and tonight, he was determined to show you exactly how much.

“Mark me where no one can see, but you. My body’s for your eyes only,” you told him. Your relationship was committed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had slept with another person and the very moment you started sleeping with him, you had no reason to want to be with anyone else.

“If I start now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” Doyoung warned.

You shrugged. “Then don’t.”

Tonight seemed to be full of reckless decision-making, and you were tempting him to make another one. It would possibly be the least rash of all the others to come, so when you decided that you didn’t care, he concluded that he didn’t either.

Doyoung’s lips always felt good on your skin, but having him suck and bite on you was incomparable. You felt like a teenager in love for the very first time, infatuated with this newfound feeling and dreading the end. Your breath was hitching as his mouth blemished your stomach, an array of marks forming delicately. Heat suffocated your body as the room seemed to only grow hotter, and you wondered if it was all in your mind or if he felt it too.

You were practically covered head to toe in red blotches when he was finished with you. For a while Doyoung watched your chest rise and fall rapidly with a proud glint in his eye, evidently pleased with his hard work. And nothing felt better than having traces of him all over your body. It felt scandalous, but you liked it.

He rose up to lean in your ear and ask, “I’m gonna eat you out now. Is that okay with you, baby?”

You nodded without wasting a moment of time. It was more than okay if you were being honest, you were needy for him and whatever bit of him you could get.

Doyoung was straight to the action when he positioned himself between your thighs, and the contrast from his previous slow-paced actions gave you whiplash. Your mouth parted open in a moan and you fixed your hands back on his black locks, observing on your back how his tongue moved relentlessly against you.

It was dangerous that he knew your body’s ins and outs. Doyoung had a superpower where he could see right through you. He knew what made you tick. He knew exactly where to touch you and where you were most sensitive. He knew the difference between what felt just good and what left your skin scorching with desire. You suspected that there was a blueprint to your body engraved behind his eyelids. Then again, after two years of this routine - sneaking away to screw one another until your bodies ached and maybe sometimes a little longer - it made sense that he had learned how your body worked.

And god, Doyoung loved how it responded to his touches. Your body always trembled a little, your thighs wavering as you struggled to handle the pleasure. Your breath got shallow and he was a sucker for the little exhales you emit whenever he did as little as touch you. You always reached out for something to clutch with all your might to help support yourself. You were tight as a bitch and there was never a dull moment being inside you. His mouth was watering at the mere thought of going bareback.

You cried as you felt close, “Doyoung, baby, fuck.”

“Let go,” he cooed, then his lips were back on your cunt.

There was no need for you to be told twice. Your grip on his hair tightened as you orgasmed, uncontrollably bucking up and grinding your hips into his mouth. A shriek came from your mouth as you finished, but Doyoung didn’t look like he was done with you just yet.

“One more time,” Doyoung said. He didn’t look willing to be deterred, already set on his mission before the words left his mouth. Still, he added tauntingly, “Unless, you can’t handle it.”

You fired immediately, “N-no, I can take it.”

Your squirming body and fucked out face betrayed your words, as well as the tremble in your voice, but Doyoung grinned condescendingly at how eager you still were to take everything that he was giving you.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Then his mouth was set back on your cunt.

Although the first one worked like a charm, Doyoung had a new tactic this round - fingering you. His ring and middle fingers prodded you, toying with your clit until he was satisfied with your whimpers and stuck them in. All at once his mouth was sucking on you, his nose nudging your clit and it had you soaring through cloud nine. There was something about the way Doyoung made you feel that was incomparable to any other emotion ever evoked within you.

You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, so every move Doyoung made had you at least twice as blissed out. You couldn’t help but emit a cry of his name at even the slightest of contact, quickly becoming overwhelmed by pleasure. To make matters worse (better), Doyoung was like a storm and refused to let up. There was no other option than for you to take everything he was offering to the best of your ability, to prove that you could handle him just as much as you claimed. You weren’t one to tap out too easily.

The pressure was too much. Quicker than before, you were yet again close to imploding. His quite literally handy work was enough to shove you over the edge, and you barely had the chance to warn him before you were thrown over it.

“I’m…” was all you could say before you were screaming, body convulsing as your orgasm fell upon you once more. It was the second time tonight, but deep inside you knew that it was still far from the last.

Doyoung finally showed you mercy and pulled away this time around, lips all wet by the time that he was finished. There was nothing that you could say that would convey how you felt. You could only lie there in silence with your chest heaving at rapid speed as you tried to endure your daze.

“Think you can still handle it?” He asked with a smile.

You were offended that he doubted you. “Try me.”

He didn’t wait around. Doyoung was lining himself up at your slit in mere seconds and the feeling of his tip brushing against it was making you drastically impatient. Moments like this made days without fucking him feel like weeks.

Finally he pushed into you, at a pace so slow it was almost agonizing. Doyoung leant his head back with a moan at that very moment, adjusting to the feeling of your bare walls. You felt tighter, wetter and warmer, and he already felt as if he could bust. Especially when you instantly clenched upon his entrance. One round definitely wasn’t going to be enough.

“S-shit,” you moaned, a clear waver in your voice. There was nothing else that you needed to say - your body definitely gave away how pleased you were to feel him. Your head lolled back against the pillow and you sighed in satisfaction.

As his hips rocked back and forth, the thoughts inside Doyoung’s brains only developed more and more, all of them centered around you. For one, he thought that there wasn’t a single word that could describe how beautiful you looked underneath him. Moonlight snook past the curtains and glimmered on your exposed skin, highlighting your breast and face. The fucked out expression you wore on your face only expanded his urge to keep you up all night, rocking into you slowly and steadily to savor the moment. The marks he left on you also bathed in the moonlight. That was all it took for Doyoung to lose his mind.

Second of all, Doyoung couldn’t fathom why he waited so long to fuck you raw. Sex with you would always be amazing regardless of what either of you chose to do, but he knew it’d be a lie to say that he didn’t prefer it this way. From the looks of it, you felt the exact same.

Doyoung swooped you into a sudden kiss, effectively cutting off your moans. You instead whimpered into his mouth with pleasant surprise, kissing him back with the same passion. When he was satisfied he pulled back and murmured, “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

His praise was your poison. You were addicted to him, intoxicated by him, and even if it was wrong you wouldn’t have it any other way. All your worries vanished when you had Doyoung by your side. When he touched you, you couldn’t even think of anyone - or anything - else besides him. You were all about him, and there wasn’t a single other person that could make you feel the way that he did. There wasn’t anyone who could please or satisfy you just like Doyoung.

You liked that Doyoung didn’t throw words around either. When he called you beautiful, he showed you that he meant it. His fingers and lips scattered around your body, hands grabbing your breast as his mouth sucked more marks into any available space. He meant it when he said that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. To him, there was no such thing as enough.

That’s when you realized you and Doyoung may have mirrored one another. Too much greed in your hearts to ever be satiated, and perhaps that’s why you were a perfect match. You could attempt to drain one another completely, milk each other dry, and still never exhaust.

“You’re mine,” Doyoung whispered between pecks. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You stammered, “I’m yours.”

Doyoung moved his hand to your clit, fingers rubbing to their content. “Again.”

“I’m… I’m yours! I’m all yours, Doyoung,” you cried. You had meant it. Your body longed for him. After two entire years of this, you felt like your body belonged to him.

Satisfied, Doyoung kept up his actions. You were clueless as to how loud either of you were being in that moment. The bed creaked some and there was a loud smack whenever his hips slammed into yours, but you were only focused on Doyoung. Beads of sweat collected on his skin yet there wasn’t a hint of exhaustion on his face; only pleasure. His bare, sweaty chest glistened in the moonlight, and you desperately wanted to mark him back. Just like he’d done you.

It was too bad that he had someone to come back to. He may not have had sex with his wife, but there were other instances where she was bound to see his body and it was too risky. The only reason either of you cared was not because he was afraid of her finding out that he was cheating back, but because there was a chance that she’d put the pieces together. All it took was a name and you would be in hot water.

That thought made something in you sullen, and you had to dispose of the feeling quickly.

“You’re mine, too,” you said. “Right?”

Doyoung reached for your hand and slipped his fingers between yours. “I’m all yours, I promise. You’re my one and only.”

That was enough to placate you. Doyoung belonged to you and you belonged to him, you didn’t care what the documents said. He was all yours.

Now you were approaching your climax, and by the death grip Doyoung was currently holding on your hips you could tell that you weren’t alone. His moans were getting louder and it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to bust.

“Breed me, Doyoung, please,” you begged. You had reached a point of desperacy, rolling your hips into his to match his thrusts as you chased your orgasm. “Breed me, breed me, breed me.”

“Fuck,” Doyoung groaned. You were driving him crazy. It meant everything to know that you wanted this just as badly as he did. “I’m gonna give it all to you, babe.”

Your vision clouded with nothing but white when you reached your climax, squeezing Doyoung’s hand for leverage. As your limbs shook, your mouth gaped in moans but your cunt tightened around Doyoung. That was the last straw for him, the last push he needed. His moans resounded throughout the room as his warm cum coated your walls, filling you to your brim. He came a lot, but you weren’t complaining. The feeling of his seed inside you was ever so quickly becoming one of your favorites.

When he pulled out, Doyoung proudly watched how his cum trickled from you. He wanted to do it over and over again. The clock on the nightstand read two A.M., and that’s when he knew that this night was going to last until the morning.

“Wanted this ever since I first saw you with Daphne. You’re so good with her,” Doyoung said, and you vaguely recalled the time he was talking about. He was trying to keep her entertained and you happened to be fairly good with children. “Knew I had to put a baby in you. I’m gonna breed you for real one day. I promise.”

“Doyoung,” you whined.

He didn’t stop. “You want that, yeah? You want me to fuck you full of my cum?”

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

He grinned. There was no plan of stopping.

By the time Doyoung did finally stop, it was early in the morning and the sun was beginning to peak from the horizon. You giggled when he finally tapped out and fell beside you, and grabbed his face to kiss him on his lips.

Doyoung smiled. “I love you.”

You froze for a moment. “You mean that?”

“From the bottom of my heart,” he said, then added, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure shit out. All that matters is I got you and you got me, and I won’t let anything come between us.”

It felt like there was a wait lifted from your shoulders. You weren’t free to love him whenever or wherever, but you were free to love him however much you wanted. That made it feel okay.

You pecked his lips again. “I love you, too. I’ll wait for us.”

Doyoung held you in his arms. He could only say that you were like a daydream to him, everything he could have ever wanted wrapped into one. There wasn’t one damn thing about you that he didn’t adore. You made his heart sing and dance, and he hoped his body said everything that words could not. There was no way he could explain what he felt about you.

You and Doyoung’s love was straight out of a movie. And this was only the beginning to your chase for a happily ever after.

[viennakarma]

What would I do (without you)

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: When Fernando is in a very ugly crash, your anxiety gets the best of you, luckily, he’s there to comfort you.

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: female!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, anxiety, Fernando’s crash in Australia (2016), happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: This is a little treat inspired by the unfortunate crash Fernando went through in Australia, 2016. I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes. Comments and feedback are appreciated xx

The day was perfect, sunny, warm and you had been accompanying Fernando the whole day, and he wanted you close to him at all times possible, unless he had a meeting or press.

You sat on an armchair, watching as Fernando dressed in his racing gear. You unabashedly watched as he undressed from his shorts and team shirt into his undershirt and overalls.

“You’re staring,” he pointed, not looking at you as he adjusted his clothes.

“What? Can’t a girl stare at her man?” You joked, smirking.

“She can, not when I shouldn’t get distracted by a pretty girl.”

Before the race started, you hugged Fernando, pecked his lips quickly and wished him good luck.

You watched the race from the garage, through the screen, headphones firmly around your head. He had a good start, and was climbing from midfield up.

He was going to turn 2 when you saw that his right front tire touched the left back tire of another car, which looked like a brief touch, but due to the speed, his car immediately broke, and Fernando lost control of the car.

Heart on your stomach, you gasped as the car kept going ahead at high speed, scraping the wall with such force, then as soon as it hit the gravel, the car was lifted off the floor, immediately overturning mid air. The car twisted a couple of times in the air, raising dust and debris, until it stopped upside down against the barrier. The car, or what was left of it, was destroyed in a pile of rubble.

You felt like you were going to puke. Everyone in the garage watched in horror one of the ugliest crashes they had ever seen in their lives. The silence felt like hours, but they were barely a few seconds.

He lost control of the car, he couldn’t even brake to ease the impact, the pain took over your chest like fire spreading quickly and deadly. Your knees were shaky as you watched the screen, and heard the silence stretching in the garage.

“Fernando, are you ok?” The engineer asked via radio.

Everyone waited a couple of seconds, and you felt like you were going to pass out when the silence stretched, everyone waiting for a response.

“Yes,” he sounded winded, voice a little shaky. You breathed again, panting as if you were gasping for air after staying a bit too long underwater.

“The marshals are coming to get you, stay put.” The engineer told him.

Your eyes stayed on the screen, and then you could see him climbing out from the rubble, standing up slowly and limping away from the car. Then he stopped, both hands on his knees, looking like he was having trouble breathing.

“Is he hurt?” You asked, your voice loud but shaky.

“No, it seems like he’s just a little dizzy and breathless from the impact,” someone answered.

You pressed a hand against your chest, trying to ease the pulsating pain you felt. Panting, you closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, only to open them to see Fernando being helped by the marshals, talking to the other driver who he had crashed with.

Eventually, he came back to the garage, finding you and his team. You waited while everyone greeted him, with worried hugs and pats on the shoulder. You waited until he came to you, with that silly smile. He pulled you into his arms and he hugged you, holding you for a couple of seconds. You ran your fingers through his hair, inhaling him in, even if he smelled of cologne and sweat.

Your chest gave in, and he was in your arms, and you didn’t want to let go. Because he was there, in one piece, unharmed. Your Fernando was ok, and you told yourself you had not lost him.

“You’re here, you’re here” was all you could mutter into his shoulder, over and over, confused and trembling.

“I’m here, corazón. I’m right here,” he said back, softly.

Someone called him for his post race duties, and you didn’t want to let go, it took your whole strength to unlatch your arms from around his shoulders. You shuddered as he took a step back.

Everything was a haze after that, Fernando going to the med center to check if he had any injuries, then a brief media walk. Your mind was running a thousand miles per minute, thinking about the crash, about how it could’ve gone so, so wrong.

You sat in his driver’s room, out of it, thinking about all the what ifs, all the possibilities. You could’ve lost him in a couple of seconds, you could’ve been going to the hospital right now, or worse, you could be calling his parents with the worst news ever.

You’re agitated for the next couple of hours. You tried to eat something, but after two bites you felt like you’re going to throw up, so you gave up.

“Corazón? Corazón!” You heard his voice, quickly taking you away from your anxious thoughts.

Fernando looked like he had showered and changed, you stood up, numbly taking your bag and following him. During the ride back to the hotel, you stayed silent, watching the view from the window, holding his hand on your lap, firmly.

He soon noticed how you were too quiet, silent. Your bubbly personality hadn’t shown up since before the race. He knew you must’ve been scared to death, even himself had been.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you said as soon as you got inside the hotel room. Fernando was going to say something but you just turned around and went inside the bathroom.

Under the shower, you closed your eyes, trying to delete the images of the crash from your mind, trying to stop this anxiety bubbling in your mind and heart. Fear slowly gripping your every muscle, and every thought.

Turning the shower, you got out, barely taking time to dry, just dressing in a robe and going outside, water dripping down your legs and dampening the floor.

Fernando, who had just asked for room service, was waiting for you to come out of the shower so he could really check on you. He didn’t have to wait as you came out of the bathroom, still wet, disheveled and terribly pale.

You jumped into his arms and he stumbled backwards until you two sat on the sofa, you on top of him.

“Talk to me, cariño,” he asked, “are you ok?”

As soon as he said the words, you started to sob, crying out loud, shaking and holding him tightly. Your face against his chest inhaling his scent, nuzzling your face into his beard.

“You’re here, Nando,” you puffed, nervously.

“I’m here, my love. I’m right here.”

“I thought- I was going to lose you today,” you managed to get out, between sobs. He ran his hand over your back, hugging harder, kissing the top of your head. “I was so, so scared!”

“It’s ok, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” he comforted you.

You kept crying for a few minutes, and Fernando just held you close, running his hands over your body, pulling you impossibly closer, kissing your face. Until you calmed down, and your sobs turned into sniffles. You were still sitting on his lap but you pushed away to look at his face. You held his face with both hands, running your thumbs over his cheekbones, then his eyebrows, then his lips. You observed his face with such worry, such devotion that he was overcome with love for you.

“I’m sorry I’m being so selfish, oh god- you- you were in the crash, inside the car- I’m sorry, you must’ve been so scared! This- this wasn’t about me!” You said, suddenly embarrassed for being so scared.

“Hey, it’s ok, corazón. I understand you were scared. I was too.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, amor,” you whispered, kissing him softly.

“No, don’t apologize,” he whispered, holding your face as if you were a delicate thing. At that moment, you were fragile and worried sick because of him, “you know why I left the car so quick? Because I thought of you and my mom watching the race, I thought about how worried you two would be, so I came out because I wanted to show you that I was fine.”

You hugged him some more, finally managing to calm your heart down, as you settled your face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. When the food arrived, you ate quietly, still keeping a hand on him, feeling his body all the time.

When you were getting ready for bed, after blow drying your hair and dressing in pajamas, you reached in your bag for something. Fernando sat on the bed, staring at you. Holding the thing behind your back, you went back to him, standing between his legs.

“I need to tell you something, Nando.”

“¿Estás bien?” He asked, worried.

Smiling, you took his hand with yours, and placed it on your belly, holding it there. You raised the other hand, showing him the positive pregnancy test.

“No,” he shook his head in disbelief.

“Yes,” you nodded, smiling.

“¿En serio?” he asked again, just to make sure. But his eyes were shining in barely contained happiness. You held his face, pecking his lips for a second.

“For real, amor. We’re having a baby!” You told him, and he hugged your middle, putting his head under your shirt to lay his cheek against your belly. You could hear him muttering spanish against your skin, 

After quite the scare, you knew you had to forget about a pretty and cute way to tell him, and just show him why you felt so worried, so scared because it wouldn’t be just you losing him, but your baby too.

As you laid in bed, cuddling with Fernando’s face against your chest and his hand holding over your stomach, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I know it’s part of racing and accidents happen sometimes, but,” you whispered, trying to sound understanding, “could you be a tiny bit more careful? For us?”

“Yes, corazón, I will.”

[dvchvnde]

excerpt; best friend's dad | John Price x Reader infidelity. age gap.

He breaks your heart in Greece. Cuts a jagged line down your middle. Spills your wet, sticky blood over the Naxian marble outside of the Temple of Apollo with just a handful of words.

(fitting, you find: you've always considered your aimless pursuit to his heart some bastardised delusion akin to Icarus chasing the immovable sun—)

And you suppose it's kind. Or as gentle as a man like him could ever let himself be. Still gruff, surly. But you've always loved the sound of his voice, haven't you? That sarky growl reminding you of classic muscle cars, American-made; the low, gritty purr of an old Mustang. Enough to make you shiver, even as he's shaping it around these awful, cutting words. It makes you heart flutter, enraptured as he speaks like he's ripping a bandaid off.

Except that now that wound is being filled with salt. Acid. Cauterising itself from the friction burn when the gauze is wrenched off your skin. A permanent scar right in your sternum. A gaping hole spilling all the ugliness out. You wonder if he cares that it's being slashed across his shoes—no sandals, he griped when you teased him in the airport; I hate the feelin' of sand between my toes—that this madness inside of you is finding a home on the hot pavement, rotting under the summer's sun.

"m'thinkin' about marryin' her."

The her in question is ten years older than him. Pettily, you wonder if this is to compensate for the fact that he's nearly two decades older than you. An obscene age gap, you know. But—

It's Price.

Your best friend's dad. The man you've been in love with since you were sixteen. Falling all over yourself after a dumb boy broke your heart, and he offered to drive you home, silent the whole way there before he stopped, a block away from your house, and told you that boys weren't worth your time. Boys. Boys—

Not men.

Foolishly, you let yourself hope. Let yourself become the very thing they talk about in TikTok videos lambasting age gaps and silly little girls who let older men run them into the ground. Why would a man his age have any reason to be interested in a girl yours? Sickening. Disgusting. You're being lead stray, groomed. But you clung to it still, even as you thumbed through the comments on those videos and found pieces of yourself lying among the rubble.

You've always known what they say about girls like that. And you were just delusional enough to believe that you were different somehow.

And now—

"Gettin' older," he grouses out, and you wonder if she finds the ornery lilt to his cadence as comforting as you do. Or if it rubs her all the wrong ways. "Might be time to settle down."

Shamefully, you wish he'd say, but maybe you can convince me otherwise, climb into my lap, and eat this decision from between my teeth until all I see when I open my eyes is you.

But that's not the John Price you know. Mr Price. Single dad. Widower. Untouchable.

Mr Price who sees you for what you are—smarter than them, he'd said when you broke down in his Bronco after a softball game where everyone, your best friend included, went to an afterparty that no one invited you to.

Quiet, thoughtful, even when you spent the evening afterwards (the fight hashed out between your best friend and you; i'm so sorry and me too) thumbing through old vinyl records he kept in his basement, listening to the classics that kids your age just didn't understand, so why the fuck do you?

Weekends spent bonding over golden cinema (movies just ain't what they used to be; there's no romance anymore, it's all so—vapid; you don't talk like a kid; i've never considered myself one, do you? he didn't answer. you didn't expect him to). Listening to music older than your dad. Niche jokes and texts that read like I saw this and thought of you.

Your fault, of course, for thinking you could trick him into loving you if you played your feelings through Johnny Cash, Vashti Bunyan, Fleetwood Mac, and Smokey Robinson. An impossibility you know now.

Mr Price who knows you. Who sees through the thin skin you wear and into the heart, the core of you. Who must have known since you called him in the pouring rain to pick you up when you got too drunk to drive home. A house party in the suburbs. Waterlogged flats he told you to toss.

Said nothing at all when you apologised with your head pressed against the foggy glass. You never told him that your sorry, Mr Price was for kissing a boy and wishing it was him.

But he must have known.

open book. pages spilling out. silly little girl with your heart cupped in your palm—

So he knows. Has known. Hindsight says this is him letting you down gently before you get any ideas about forever with your diploma tucked into your chest like a shield. A trip to Greece with your best friend and her dad to celebrate the rest of your life looming over you like a thundercloud. Your eye slanting sideways, glancing yearningly back at him.

sorry, but no. look the other way—

And you think fine, fine, whatever, so long as this doesn't hurt anymore—but what comes out is, "oh."

What follows is this:

He says he's thinking about marrying her with his hands tucked tight under his arms. He tells you he wants to settle down with his chin tucked against his chest, four lines rucked across the pinch of his brow. An emphasis, perhaps, on just how serious he is.

You taste salt in your throat. Sand between your toes. The sun blisters against the thin straps of this pretty blue dress that match the melting sapphire of his burning gaze. It's heatsickness, maybe. Or just all the years of want building and building, festering and growing, until it can't climb any higher—forever reaching for god that won't spare you a glance—and—

falling down around you. wings of beeswax and bird feathers.

Solemn, he says, "it's what I should do."

(i saw this and thought of you—)

Your fingers knot into the soft cotton of his dress shirt, pulling the fabric taut between your knuckles until it peels back from the seams, curling between buttons.

You've had too much to drink. Whiskey sour. Scotch neat. Somewhere along the walk to the temple, you snatched a puff of his cigar, the nicotine blooming between your teeth. Head full of cotton too thick for you to think. To retreat.

In the morning, when he refuses to look at you, you'll blame it on the drinks. On the sun. On being young and dumb and untouchable under the Greecian sky.

Daddy issues, you can shrug. You have the diagnoses from every single TikTok psychologist embedded between your teeth. See, mine never loved me and now I'm taking it out on you—

But right now, you kiss him.

Or maybe—

Maybe he kisses you.

It's a mess in your head. Everything turned upside down, all askew because when your lips touch his, he shudders. His chest rumbles under your fingers, expanding with the sudden inhale as he breathes you in. Deep. Takes you into his lungs—all salt-slick, and sunburnt—and groans low in his throat, all want. All heat.

He should push you away. He's your best friend's father. Two decades older than you. Dating another woman who's so far removed from the person you are that she might as well be a different species. Mature. Stoic. Poised. Graceful.

The perfect antithesis to you.

Everything about this must be ringing shrill in his ears: abort, abort, do not engage. He should push you off.

And he does.

After a moment of your greedy, unpractised kisses pepper along the bristles hanging low over his lips, he makes another sound. Angry. Whitehot. His hands slip free from the damp prison of his armpits and latch tight onto you. Thick, hirsute fingers curling over your upper arms, and pushing, shoving—

Your back hits the marble pillar. The air in your lungs punched out.

But when you try to siphon more balmy air into them again, you find an obstacle in your way.

His mouth.

Searing, blistering. Slanting hungrily across yours, devouring. Intense, dizzying. Your head cracks against the wall when he shoves his thigh between the silken softness of your inner thighs, blanketed by the dress that made him swallow when he first saw you in it, eyes darkening like a storm.

(bit short, ain't it? he'd groused, and your friend slipped her hand into yours with a huff. stop being such a dad, dad—)

It slots there now like it's owed the right. Thick thigh spreading yours apart on a gasp, a groan. Corded muscle pressed taut to the seam of you that burns hot. Melted wax. Dripping against his leg. He must feel the way he liquifies you, turns you into putty. It drags a sound his chest. The misfire of an engine.

"Fuck," he breathes, all teeth. Salt. He should be saying, no, stop. go back to your hotel room, and we'll pretend this never happened, silly girl. But he pulls you closer instead, his hand looping around to cradle the back of your tender head in the cup of his palm. A small comfort as he delves his tongue between your teeth. "Makin' me lose my goddamn mind—"

The words are growled against your mouth. You taste the tobacco-smoked fury between his teeth when they sink into your lower lip. Angry, maybe, that you're making him do this. That you had to be who you are, and despite that, he kisses you like you're not.

"Price," you whine, arching into his chest when he pulls at your bottom lip still caught between his teeth. Skin tender, bruised. He ruts into you at the sound, nearly purring. You feel it then. The hard press of his thickening cock against you. Mindlessly gyrating against your hip. The turgid length proof of his desire. His want for you. All you. "Please—"

He folds himself over you. Tucks you into the bracket of his chest, his arms. His fingers are iron bars on your skin, holding you tight to him. Unwilling to let go. His hand on your crown; his fingers gripping your thigh, hiking it up his waist. It's good. Better than all of your meagre fantasies combined. You've wanted this since you knew what want was. When he wandered into the kitchen the morning after a sleepover with a towel slung loose around his hips, his hand scrubbing the damness from the wet tangle of his hair, spilling them down his neck where they disappeared into the thick bed of hair on his chest, his belly.

He paused in the doorway when he saw you sitting at the island, eyes wide and drilling holes into his chest.

"Shit," he'd cussed, gruff and mean with sleep. "Didn't think—"

But you did. Over and over again. With your face pressed against your pillow, fingers shoved into the sticky wetness leaking out of your cunt. Thinking of him. Wrong. Wrong. Terrible—

Dad bod, your friend said with a cluck of her tongue that afternoon. And you feel it under your fists as he heaves. As he eats you alive, whole. Because kissing John Price, Mr Price, is a whirlwind. A maelstrom.

He devours. He conquers. He owns.

He licks into your mouth, petting over your tongue, your teeth, until you can't remember anything else except the tobacco and whiskey tang of him. Heady. An elixir you want to sip from for the rest of your life. Damn him—

He tells you he's thinking about marrying someone else. Then whispers, ash-soft, against your chin that he can't get enough of you.

Grunts, "you need to go," as he sinks his teeth down, hard, into the throbbing skin of your pulse. Laying claim as he slowly comes to.

The coarse hair of his beard rubs your flesh raw when he buries his face into your neck. You can feel the thunder of his heart against the knob of your wrist. The heat of his skin burning through you.

"Fuck," he rumbles again, and you know this time it's for good. Ironclad. But the remorse is paperthin. "Shouldn't have done that, should have—"

"I want you," you whisper through bruised, kiss-bitten lips. "I want you so bad. I loved you since I was—"

"Don't."

The sweat beading along his hairline smears across the naked arch of your shoulder and neck when he moves; a shallow shake of his head. Muted and small. Heavy with reluctance.

The man who meets you when he pulls back is frowning with wet, red-stained lips. His eyes are hardened sapphire reinforced with unbreakable obsidian. There's no inch to move. No cracks to squeeze through.

"This—" he swallows. You hope he tastes you still. Whiskey sour. Scotch neat. The drag of his cigar, the one he coached you through, scoffing when you choked, when you cough. You hope he runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes nothing but you. "This shouldn't have happened."

You don't say anything. Can't. The words are staining his lips.

You nod, slow. Cautious. He tells you he's marrying someone else. Thinking about it. Says this shouldn't have happened—

But he holds you like he can't bring himself to let go. Fingers clutching, clenching tight around you. Possessive. Greedy, even he as he slowly unspools from around you. As he pulls away, scouring his hand down his face with a deep, ragged inhale. Rough, worn fingers digging into his jaw until the knuckles under a dense cropping of umber hair turn white, nails pinking under the strain.

"This isn't—"

You nod again. Soft and slow, but you let your tongue flicker out, chasing the smoke drying on your swollen lips. It stings. The burn makes you think of him. Of his hot, heavy hands on your skin.

His eyes drop down to follow the slip of red that teases out between your teeth, blackening as they trace the new wetness left behind. You can feel him twitch against your thigh.

Your name is a broken snarl trapped in the thick of his throat. You've never heard it like that. Never. It does something. Lights you up from the inside out. Supernova in his arms. Icarus burning, crashing down to earth—

Catch me, Apollo—

He pulls away instead. Detaches from you with a heavy groan, as if the distance that now sits between you hurts him just as much.

The silence is broken by the sound of the crowd just beyond the pillar. You can see the moment it settles over him in the flattening of his eyes, the erasure of all affection that bloomed bright in blue. The terse set to his shoulders. The distance, the space, that grows and grows and grows—

He clears his throat. Mr Price once more. Untouchable. Off-limits.

"You should go," he says, and there's not an ounce of give in the rough flatline of his voice. Fixed. Firm. "You should go back to your hotel room. Come on. I'll call you a taxi."

"And you?"

He sucks in a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. "Don't worry about me. Just—go back to the hotel room. We can—we'll talk in the morning."

"Where'd you?" She asks when you crawl into bed, the starchy sheets rubbing against your sunbitten skin.

There is a deluge of things you want to say. Things like—

I'm sorry. I love him. I—

can't let go.

"I think I just got my heart broken," you say instead, and wonder when the tears are supposed to come. At the wedding, maybe. But right now, you just feel numb. Empty.

The bed creaks when she rolls over, facing you in the dark. "Really? Didn't know you were, you know, foolin' around with anyone."

"I wasn't. It's—" your dad. But you can't say that, can you?

There's something painfully nostalgic about loving a man you're not supposed to want. A man who cannot, should not, want you back. An unrequited love in a foreign land. Unconsummated in the summer's heart. Sticky, bittersweet heartbreak.

Or, that's what it's supposed to be.

They are not John Price, though. Your best friend's dad. And they didn't kiss you back—

But he did.

And you think it's the worst thing he could have ever done.

[verysium]

ACT 1, SCENE 4: blue lock headcanons

shidou would view traditionally ugly creatures as strangely cute. it's not a disgusting cockroach, it's a silly little bug with eyelashes as long as his. no, he's not going to let go of that scraggly one-eyed cat that likely has rabies. it looks too sweet to be abandoned on the streets. his dream childhood pet was definitely a piranha.

aiku wears band t-shirts without knowing the actual music group. no, he does not listen to sex and the pistols, he just thought the design looked very cool. would also wear lana del rey merchandise just to impress the ladies. the only song he realistically knows is west coast, and even then he's only heard it at a random sushi restaurant.

reo would have stereotypical rich people problems. he can't decide if he should bring his chauffeur and valet or actually drive the car himself for your upcoming date. also spends at least one hour seriously pondering over which gucci silk pattern tie looks better on him. trick question, they're both the exact same shade.

shidou steals your covergirl perfect point eyeliner because he thinks it looks way better on him. also a big fan of body glitter and super vulgar eyeshadow palette names. his favorite hue so far is that one hot pink fuchsia that literally burns your eyes with its brightness. nothing is too neon with this man.

ness is the epitome of the sunshine-turned-unhinged-maniacal-killer trope. he would be the bestest boy, but if someone even lays a single hand on you, he’s already plotting their murder. eerily good at hiding bodies but would never divulge his secrets in fear of scaring you off.

shidou would walk unashamedly to the women’s clothing section of the general department store. would never be embarrassed by the bra sizes. you have a double D? he’s already trying three of the cup sizes on just to see if he can get you a comfortable one. if you’re part of the itty bitty titty committee, he wouldn’t judge either. this man loves femininity in all its full glory.

aryu exclusively uses dior beauty. he would rather die than use a generic drugstore makeup brand. sometimes you wonder if he's secretly a dermatologist because this man knows the exact shade, tint, and quality of product for every possible skin tone and type. also very passionate about the controversies behind animal testing and parabens. would be exceedingly picky when it comes to anything he smears on his face (think jeffree star but without the problematic issues.)

sae has his phone screen set to default wallpaper. he only has the translator app downloaded, and that's about it. his personal trainer takes care of all the rest of his stats. after he started dating you though, he kept pictures of you in his private photo albums.

noa cannot tell a white lie to save his life. if he doesn't know something, he will not know something. he doesn't see the point in hiding that. sometimes has trouble reading the room, so you need to remind him that brutal honesty and pure rationality aren't always the way to go. he does become more conscientious after that.

bachira used to draw crayon portraits of all the imaginary monsters he saw at night. scared the shit out of his parents because they thought he was hallucinating (he actually was.) nowadays, he's a lot tamer because you force him to take his meds.

isagi is, in fact, the number one mind reader and manipulator throughout the entire series. this man is clairvoyant, psychic, and telepathic all packaged into one. sometimes his right ear twitches, and he just knows someone is talking about him behind his back. unfortunately, all of this occurs in his head, so no one on the outside world actually knows about his sixth sense.

rin was absolutely bombarded with valentine's chocolates last year, but when he sorted through the entire pile and realized you hadn't given him one, he returned them all to their respective senders. will refuse any form of sweets unless it came directly from you. you need to be there physically to hand him the box.

kaiser writes, thinks, and speaks entirely in german even if no one else can understand him. he secretly can speak english but chooses not to because he absolutely hates anglicization. refuses to compromise his own language and culture just to fit in with the rest of the world. it's degrading. if he had it his way, german would be the new lingua franca. definitely thinks translation is for dummies. what do you mean you're not already bilingual? you better run, not walk, to that little green owl app. does use his foreign accent to make you feel flustered though. has a voice kink but in a non-traditional sort of way. you have to be the one turned on by his voice. only then will he start feeling it.

yukimiya loves it when you lose your shit. one time a jerk cut you off in traffic, and you started aggressively cursing. he fell in love with you right there on the spot. it was something about the fire in your eyes and the way you refused to take any attitude from the other party. that self-assertiveness you exhibit is so empowering.

aiku takes you out to karaoke bars just to hear you sing. you look so pretty under the purple disco lights, belting your little heart out to the rock lyrics. sometimes he has to take a minute to just appreciate how lucky he is to have you.

nagi didn't know that you have to actively check and update your email inbox. he had no clue school even started until one day the principal called his parents over his thirteen student absences. he thinks it's a headache to even get out of bed and put his fingers on his laptop keyboard. since when was the distance between his arrow cursor and the search bar that wide? it looks too long for him to reach. maybe he should just do this tomorrow.

reo does not know what saving money is. the first time you asked him for a promo code, he looked at you as if you had just spouted a strange language. when you showed him your little wallet full of cut-out coupons, he literally had to hold them up to the light and closely inspect them. it was definitely a moment of enlightenment.

sae likes anklets, especially the super thin gold chain ones. something about the way it brushes against his bare leg when you sleep beside him drives him out of his mind. he's also a sucker for subtle jewelry as evidenced by his necklace and wrist bands.

otoya practically lives for instant gratification. he would be guilty of love bombing. loses interest quickly, but sometimes wishes he could actually commit for once. football is important to him because it is one of the only activities he has consistently practiced for over a decade.

karasu is down bad for anyone who can actually outsmart him. you got a higher mark than him on the recent exam? damn, his heart just beat a little faster. spaces out in a love-filled haze whenever you ramble on about your nerdy little subject interests. he is a sapiophile through and through. intelligence just does it for him.

loki is the type of person who absolutely demolishes your self-esteem, and yet you still cannot bring yourself to hate him. when people say god has his favorites, they mean this man right here. he would be an innately talented genius while simultaneously being the most humble human being in existence. at this point, it's not his problem. it's a you problem. try harder next time.

chris is very similar to a neurosurgery resident. he has the largest self-entitled ego in existence. not a single day goes by when he doesn't remind you that he is, in fact, one of the highest ranking football players in the world. you can't say anything about it though because he has rightfully earned his arrogance. i mean, what are you going to use against him? his grueling hours of blood, sweat, and tears? this man works harder than the devil himself. in fact, he is the devil.

rin is the type to get emotionally attached to the most ordinary objects ever. he collects batteries and keeps a separate drawer as a graveyard for them once they die. the triple A ones get a special funeral since they're so hard to find. he just can't bring himself to let go of objects that no longer serve a purpose (just like his relationship with sae, sorry not sorry.)

hiori cannot go to bed unless it is absolutely dark. the curtains have to be closed. the door has to be locked. everything has to be drowned in pitch black. the reason he does this is because he still has flashbacks from that tiny strip of light underneath his bedroom door. his parents would argue all night when they thought he had gone to sleep. it still haunts him to this very day.

nagi wishes he could be a cat. sleeping all day and sunbathing on the rooftop seem like great ways to spend his life. unfortunately for him, he is not a cat. when he dies though, he wants to be reincarnated as one. either that, or a rock.

rin snores like a whole power drill at night. sae secretly hates his brother for that but can’t bring himself to wake him. whenever the itoshi family goes on vacation, ear plugs are not an option but a necessity.

chigiri knows ventriloquism. he used to play with his sister's dolls and make up character voices for each of them. definitely uses it as a party trick or as a way to make you laugh when you've had a bad day.

sae always keeps his feelings to himself. sometimes he finds it easier to rant to you than others, but then he almost always ends up retracting back into himself after realizing just how much he's revealed. he hates being emotionally slutty.

ness is the big scary dog in his relationship with kaiser, not the other way around. everyone thinks kaiser is the intimidating one, but ness wears a leash for a reason. one of them is the chihuahua, and the other one is a rottweiler. you can already guess who is who.

reo was having a mental breakdown in his limousine one time, but he ran out of his usual luxury aloe vera lotion tissues. instead of buying more, he took out his cheque-book and ripped out the pages to dry his tears. money is just paper to him. it can be recycled (no, it can't.)

loki is the type to show you a sweet and heartwarming smile before pulling out the most atrocious uno card combination in existence. i'm talking reverse, wild card, skip, draw 2. you sat there for twenty-five minutes trying desperately to draw a green. by the time you were done, he only had one card left. (screw you, loki.)

niko draws his own manga whenever he doesn't like how the official plot ends. if the canon ever diverges from the way he imagined it in his own head, he will draft his own fan fiction instead. one time, he rewrote an entire shonen jump series just to bring his favorite character back to life (*cough cough* said character wears a blindfold.)

karasu is definitely the "um, actually..." type of student. he will always have a rebuttal on hand. the truth is never black-and-white with this man, and he will argue both sides if it furthers his own agenda. he reads the encyclopedia front and back every night just so he can pull out a random arbitrary fact to win an argument some time in the near future.

shidou had a bad habit of chewing pens as a child until one day it finally exploded in his mouth. from then on, he vowed only to chew glittery gel pens. that way when it exploded in his mouth, his tongue would be stained a bright, shimmery purple. if you ever got him a scented gel pen pack, his life would finally be complete.

rin cannot differentiate between colors. if you asked him to find the difference between bubblegum pink and cotton candy pink, he would not know. to him, seven colors is already a lot to memorize. when he was a child, he only drew pictures with a single color because it was less of a hassle that way.

otoya used to think lime green was the most aesthetically pleasing color in existence. almost considered dying his hair that shade until karasu told him that girls don't actually like guys who look like neon highlighters. still wishes he did it though. he wants to glow in the dark.

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

[almostheav4n]

Tomorrow Never Came: Chapter 1

masterlist | ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ warnings: unspecified age gap, hints at past SA, no break-out, no y/n, no reader description, discussion of past trauma, reader develops a reliance on him, hints at a ddlg relationship in terms of a caregiver x little relationship (reader is of legal age), joel is a vietnam war vet with a very tough exterior so it takes a bit to get it moving but it does by chapter 2! <3 word count: 5,495 summary: set in Texas in the 1980s, Joel picks you up on the side of the road when headed west, you embark upon a journey of self-discovery with the help of a seasoned man

“Do you wanna see the west with me? Cause loves out there & I can’t leave it be.”

The cold beer bottle contrasts your harsh, warm, two-handed grip on it as your feet sway from the bar stool sat at. Your cross-country adventure had landed you here, in west Texas, penniless & destitute, nothing but the jacket on your shoulders and the pistol in your pocket. 

You had traveled from west to east in an attempt to meet your father who you later found out wanted nothing to do with you. Having had saved up for years to make the trip, not accounting for how expensive shit was, landed you in the middle of nowhere Texas, trying to make your way back to your home in California. Truth be told, you set your hopes high that maybe your father had just desired to leave your mom and not you but you learned very quickly that wasn’t the case. 

Now you sit, in a dusty dive bar, men circling like vultures as you try hard to ignore their glances and as one next to you, leans into mumble something you can’t make out. Instead you focus on the sounds if Bob Dylans ‘knockin on heaven door’ that plays loudly from the busted jukebox. 

“Wanna dance?” You slur a bit, not necessarily because of the alcohol, but maybe an attempt to match the demeanor of the man next to you, who bought you the beer. He isn’t ugly, he isn’t pretty. He is drunk though, maybe drunk enough that you can slip some bills from his wallet. 

He’s eager you realize as his hand lands on the small of your back, tripping a bit over his feet to make his way to the dusty center, the wood creaking beneath your feet as you place your hands to his chest, slightly propping him up, the bourbon on his breath quite rich. 

Your eyes scan the room to find men and women watching, finding it a bit silly. Being from California, quite used to others dancing like no ones watching. Finding that in Texas, people are always watchers rather than dancers. 

A watcher catches your eyes, his grayish-green eyes narrowed towards you as he brings a glass to his lips, his face mostly shadowed by a brown cowboy hat as he leans against a pillar. 

You can’t help but be a little taken aback, his aura fogging up the space around him like a puff of smoke, as he tilts his head down, focusing on the drink in his hand, scuffing up his boot on the ground before turning his attention back to you. Swiping his tongue against his bottom lip as he adjusts himself, thumbing his belt loop. 

It fills your belly, the admiration, bubbling up into your throat as you smile, a little quirk of the lips as you stare at him, stupidly and obviously. 

He returns the stare. Not smiling back, but the stern gaze worn on his brows replaced by a softer one, more relaxed. 

You're pulled back into reality as the man’s hand slips below your back onto your behind as you sway to the music, causing you to break apart. Whispering nonsense into his ear comprising of ‘if he wants to get out of here’, knowing he’s drunk enough and will most likely barely make it to his car. 

You’re correct as he piles into his truck and falls asleep halfway out of the lot, allowing you to maneuver the vehicle to the side, eventually slipping into his pockets to pull out his wallet and the forty-three dollars.

Ditching him there, you head for a motel and pay them the $30 fee for one night, giving you enough time to bathe and wash your clothes in the bathtub before eating half of a candy bar and heading to bed. 

The nearest grocery store is a bit of a long haul as you walk a few miles until you head into the small mart. Its the size of a shoe box with people littered up and down the aisles as you make your way to the hygiene aisle, slipping a packaged bar of soap into your deep pockets along with tampons. Wandering onto other aisles, sifting through the snacks before landing on a few breakfast bars, deciding to slide one up your sleeve. Your eyes peeking to the side to find that you’re being watched by a familiar set of eyes. 

You slip up the bar into your sleeve before turning to the man you had seen yesterday, his brow raised curiously, having seen your little trick. 

He strikes you once again in a different light… his worn jeans, scuffed boots, his flanneled shirt, the sleeves rolled up exposing his tanned arms, thick veins roped within them leading to his hands, the one specifically carrying a cart with his own personal items. His dark beard ruffles as he bites on his inner cheek, studying you it seems, his eyes roaming around the aisle and then back to you. The same hat worn yesterday, sturdy on his head. 

You hum a bit, leaning back on your heels, not sure whether he means to turn you in or something else. You simply bring your finger to your lips to create a ‘shush’ sound in hopes he will keep your secret before heading for the exit, stopping to pick up a coke, tossing a quarter to the cashier, and promptly exiting. 

Finding a nearby patch of grass, you pass your time by watching the cars and drinking your Coke until it’s empty. You figure now might be the time to make your way from Texas, heading for the busiest road and sticking your thumb out as you follow along the white line on a dirt path. 

Five cars pass before a blue Ford pickup truck pulls up, the gleaming shine causing you to cover your eyes as they adjust, hearing the driver's door open & close. 

You instinctively take a step back, watching a familiar hat make its way from around the truck as you can’t help but break out into a smile. 

“Third times the charm huh?” You laugh a bit watching him remove a hat, letting it fall to the side in his hand as he runs his other hand through his hair. 

“Uh-huh,” He grunts, leaning against the side of the truck, observing you just as he did in the store and in the bar.

“You a cop?” You question, brows scrunching up to match his hardened gaze. The question makes him laugh, a short release of breath before composing himself. 

“Ain’t a cop darlin’…” He mutters, eyes going to your tattered shoes, biting on the inside of his cheek once more, followed by a clicking sound of the mouth.

“Who are ya then?” you place your hands on your hips, attempting to assert any dominance you have, feeling picked apart by his gaze. 

“Didn’t your mama tell you not to talk to strangers?” He inches closer, calculated, stopping far enough from you to bring you ease, his noticeable large size gaining your attention. 

“Tell me your name and you won’t be a stranger… this being our third meeting I find myself quite familiar with you…” You don’t know why your voice catches in your throat as you speak, but you clear it quickly.  

Maybe because he was unlike the men you came across during your journey. Quite honestly, the men you came across reminded you of the boys in high school. Unsure, dull, weak. A boy in the shell of a “man”. 

He wasn’t a boy in the body of a man, just a full man, through & through. 

“Joel.” He offers, his head pointed towards the ground, focused on a trail of ants, then back to you. It’s difficult to hold his gaze without blushing. “Where ya headed?”

“West… California.” You admit, watching as he nods, eyes searching the sky now, observing as he always seems to do. 

“What’s there for you in California?” He questions, eyes coming back to you as you feel your words stuck in your throat, his stare enough to cause your knees to buckle and weaken. It’s a hard gaze, one you hadn’t noticed as clearly beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat.  

“My mama…” you mutter, words coming out hushed, embarrassed, deciding to focus your own attention on the ants, you stupidly feel naked when he looks at you just bare and open.  

You don’t hear him head for the door, only hear the door opening, your eyes shooting up to Joel as he looks at you, bewildered as if you should know what to do, patiently waiting as your eyes swipe back from him to the truck and back to him. 

“Whatre you waitin on? Get in.” He speaks lowly as you attempt not to feel stupid, the blood rushing to your cheeks with a quickness as you bite your lip back.

“Not gonna kill me right?” You ask, stuffing your hands in your pockets watching as he lets out his same light laugh, just a puff of air. 

“I ain’t planning on it, sweetheart.” He bites on his bottom lip, the thick hair on his beard twitching as he waits. 

You hesitantly approach the vehicle, calculated steps leading you around where he stands by the door, sliding into the truck, the leather seating new indicating a certain amount of wealth that puzzles you. 

To be honest, the men who usually attempted to pick you up were composed of overly excited older men with fast food wrappers & cigarette buds piled up in the passenger's seat and the smell of beer wafting from the vehicle. 

It was rare you ever accepted rides from men, usually finding a chick who could take you a few hours down before dropping you off. 

His truck however seemed almost brand new, and clean, even the trash within it, was still kept nicer than most people who offered you a ride. 

The door shuts beside you with a click as he soon piles in, turning the ignition with ease and one hand steering the vehicle back onto the road with one smooth motion. 

It’s a routine, you think as you watch his legs spread apart along the seat, his free hand fumbling with the volume of the radio as he finds a station playing old country which seems to satisfy him as he relaxes into a manspreaded position. 

The motor and the hum of the songs is all you hear about an hour in as you realize he’s quite quiet. Which is rare. 

He hadn’t pestered you about your past, stared longingly at your exposed legs in the summer heat, or even tried to touch you. 

The few times you had gotten rides for men when you were younger and rather dumb, they had talked your ear off about something irrelevant, asked too many questions, or taken the first opportunity to lean over and try to fuck you right in the seat. 

He is quiet. Joel's quiet… hard set gaze focused on the road, the only constant motion being the rise and fall of his chest & occasional repositioning of the wheel.  

He pays you no mind. You would like to assume he’s gay but you don’t think so 100%

“You pick up strays often?” You break the silence, used to being the quiet one. 

He doesn’t answer immediately, only readjusts himself in the seat. You wonder if he is maybe a serial killer. 

The dirt under your fingernails seems interesting all of a sudden as you focus your attention on cleaning them, the awkward energy looming within the truck, 

“Strays…” He responds, finally, rubbing his hand over his beard before scratching at it with a deep sigh. 

“Don’t usually pick up hitch-hikers if’s what you’re askin’” He grumbles lowly, his Texan accent deep and thick. 

You think for a beat, wondering if his natural nature is stoicism and a cold front or if he’s already annoyed by his pestering passenger. 

“Why’d you pick me up then?” You question turning your head towards him, attempting to read him more. 

God, it takes him forever to respond. You aren’t sure if he’s thinking about the question or just in no hurry whatsoever, but it fills you with anxiety and anticipation. 

“Well…  when you stole from Earl, he sorta went around lookin' for you… Then when I saw you stealin' from that shop, I assumed it’d be best to get you to where you need’ta go so trouble doesn’t find you no more.” He admits shooting you a quick look, a quick raise of the brow in a disciplinary way, he means to scold you, you think.  

“Earl?”

“That man you went home with from that bar…”

“Oh… ha! earl,” you snort a bit remembering him. When you stole, you made sure to never stick around for that reason exactly. 

“Well, my thoughts on the matter are men take advantage of drunk women every day, I’m just leveling the playing field.” You respond in a sassy manner, crossing your ankles to sit up straighter, asserting yourself.  

“I ain’t judgin, I just didn’t want to see him comin’ down to find you.. he’s a drunk & a mean one,” He mentions cracking the window, the summer breeze picking up the strands of his dark brown hair & some gray.  

“You know a lot about this, ‘Earl’ ?” You roll down your window then, the wind blowing over your face a familiar and refreshing feeling, picking up your own hair as it tossles over your face. 

“Knew Earl all my life, worked for me…” He grunts, clearing his throat. 

“You hire drunks?” You giggle, feeling like you caught him, disappointed he doesn’t return the laugh as he only shrugs. 

“Like I said… I don’t judge, ‘f the work is done, it's done.” He switches his blinker on before pulling into a lot filled with shops, your eyebrows scrunching as you eye him. Bathroom break maybe. 

“Bout time to eat and get you some new shoes…” He gestures down to your feet as he parks, slightly far from other cars, maneuvering into the spot with ease as the truck comes to a jolt. 

You giggle dumbfoundedly, tickled by the thought that he thinks you walk around in tattered shoes because you choose to. “Joel… I don't have any money.” 

The sound of his door closing acts as a response as it barely grants you a moment to think until your side door is pulled open. “I am well aware of that, cmon now.” 

He’s confusing, his coldness, and lack of conversation, followed by an offering to purchase new shoes. You feel the need to make it clear to him you aren’t a prostitute. 

“I’m not a hooker,” Your nose naturally scrunches in confusion, ready to bolt if he accuses you of wasting his time or something worse. 

He laughs, a true laugh, his shoulders rising and falling as he tips his head down in a chuckle, the top of his cowboy hat revealed to you. 

“I know darling, now don’t rush on my account,” he teases, still propped up against the door, waiting for you, patiently. 

You bite your lip back to distract from your red cheeks. He’s quick to reach his hand out to help you down from the truck as you take it, calloused and warm. 

You don’t desire to let go, trying to remember the feel as he breaks away once you find your footing. 

His long strides are difficult to keep up with you find, his head moving from left to right then left again, surveying the lot for oncoming traffic or anything else that might come at you sideways in a lot, always on alert it seems as he leads you towards a store reading ‘PAYLESS’. 

The door opens with a jingle as he holds it open for you before leading you down the multiple aisles, past the men's section into the womens. 

You collide with his muscled back as he stops abruptly, your eyes narrowing as you back up slightly. 

It takes a few seconds to realize he is waiting for you. Looking down at you, your eyes connecting up to him as blood familiarly rushes into your cheeks, standing closer to him than you ever have been honestly, allowing you to smell his cedarwood aftershave, makes you wanna purr. 

“Well, you have to go select the shoes now don’t you?” He chuckles as he always does, fast and dry but warm as you look down the aisles, scrunching up your nose in confusion. 

“Where you will be?” It’s stupid to already feel a sort of attachment to him, curious about his well-being more for the safety of your own. 

“I’ll be parked right here,” He gestures to a nearby bench seated across a young child screaming and crying as a mother forces on their shoes. 

You only nod back, not trusting your mouth to form appropriate words as he gives you a nice playful push with his elbow passing behind you, gesturing for you to go on. 

He does just what he said he would and you find yourself slivering between row after row of shoes, eventually finding a nice comfortable shoe that doesn’t cost too much, moving to show Joel before being gobsmacked by a pair of leather western boots. 

You decide to pick both, coming to the conclusion that Joel can decide as you walk towards him with one shoe on each foot.

“Okay, okay, ya gotta choose alright?” You position yourself in front of him, finally getting the chance to be above him, feeling a sort of strength and confidence because of it.

His head rises from where it was slouched on his chest, his hat covering most of it until he takes it off with a puzzled look on his face, probably having just napped you think. 

“I gotta choose huh?” He questions slowly in a drawl, snorting a bit as he rubs his nose. 

“Mhm!” You nod turning to the back of the aisle before walking down the carpet as if it’s a catwalk, giving him a little twirl at the end watching as his brows raise in curiosity. 

He responds with a slow clap as you curtsey to finish it off, eyebrows high as they screw together. 

“Well, aren’t you just the bee's knees…” He smirks a bit turning his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek in long thought as you rock back and forth on your feet in the silence.

“I say get 'em’ both.” He shrugs. 

“Joel…” you pout placing your hands on your hips, “You’re supposed to choose the best one.”

“Go’n and get both, s’ my choice, like you said… toss that pair on your feet and wear one out of the store. Those shoes have seen better days…” He gestures to worn ones nearby with his foot before sucking his bottom lip in, biting down as you scrunch up your face once again, confused by his generosity. 

You open your mouth to speak until you hear his name called, a gentleman his age heading over with a big smile on his face as Joel gets up to greet him shocked it seems by seeing the man. Before he dives into conversation about some time in Arkansas they shared. 

He seems to forget your presence until he fishes in his pocket before turning to you. 

“Check out baby, I’ll be there soon,” He mumbles, handing you his wallet before turning back to converse with the man about god knows what. 

Baby… 

It sits on your tongue as you repeat the word… baby. 

Once you pack up the western boots & toss your ratty pair, curiosity gets the best of you look through his wallet to find a hefty amount of cash along with a few cards, his ID reading ‘JOEL MILLER’. 

You ponder why he trusted you with it, you could bolt, to be quite honest, live off for months with the amount of cash stored. 

You don’t, finding zero need to. 

Eventually, you realize it could be because he trusts you since he’s the furthest from careless. 

It’s a funny feeling, trust, as you make your way to the checkout stand. A boy maybe a bit older than you reading a magazine as you have to muster up a ‘hello’ to gain his attention. 

“Fuh- Sorry, shi-, I mean, sorry I ain’t see you or nothin’” he nervously rambles taking the boxes, one empty but still necessary to scan.  

“Wasn’t ignorin’ you…” He adds as you smile a bit, attempting to ease his nerves. 

You are reminded of how you are able to make boys nervous, having been able to do so since grade school, and not necessarily because you were some Hollywood star, you simply carried yourself with a certain amount of confidence that had boys sputtering and timid. 

It’s refreshing you find after figuring you don't seem to do that to Joel. 

He is never nervous around you, quite the opposite as you feel as if butterflies are swimming in your belly every time he looks at you.  

The boy with a nametag reading, Ted, begins to bag as you slide the total amount on the counter from Joel’s wallet, your pinky hitting a jar of candy on the counter. 

“These free?” You question eyeing a red lollipop. 

“No, um, you can have it, it’s 25 cents, goes to helping out a kid in need,” He fumbles giving you your change as his sweaty hand releases it into yours. 

You return a quarter and fish out your lollipop, discarding the wrapper into your pocket before plucking it into your mouth. 

It isn’t difficult to notice the boys attention on your mouth as your lips wrap around the sucker as you turn your head a bit, sorta wishing it was this easy with Joel. It makes you smile a bit, the idea of getting this reaction from him but the boy thinks it's for him as he smiles back. 

You make sure to wear a look of disgust to dissuade him from thinking it’s for him, lost in your own fantasies as you stick the lollipop far into your cheek. 

“You uh- need help carrying this back, maybe I can help you carry this back to your car?” He offers a little breathless as you pop the sucker from your mouth. 

“Maybe, uh I don’t know where-” You start

“Sorry bout that darlin’,” the gruff voice behind you is followed by the warmth of a hand on your hip as he picks up the bag with the boxes, ignoring the cashier's hand on it. 

“We all square?” He questions looking down at you in a familiar stern manner, maybe questioning the fact that you didn’t steal this time.

“Uh huh,” you nod, “Bought candy too…”

“Oh yeah I can see that-”

You press the lollipop to his lips cutting him off suddenly, expecting to gain some sort of reaction from him finally, but he only opens his mouth to take it in before stuffing it in his cheek, “Delicious… let’s get a move on.” 

A giggle expels from your mouth as you find yourself bewildered as he leads you out of the store before handing the sucker back to you in which you take it swiftly, before waving goodbye to the clerk who wears the strangest expression of confusion, making you laugh even more. 

You expect to head to the truck, and instead follow him towards a sandwich shop as he holds the door open for an elderly woman before letting you pass in. 

“You know what you want? They got hot & cold sandwiches it seems…” He mutters moving up in the line as there’s a good amount of people in front of you. 

“Umm, just a coke…” you hum happily looking at the glass bottled drink behind the counters before hearing Joel sigh out gruffly. 

“Look at me.” He’s stern when he speaks yet soft as he turns towards you, curling over as he closes the space between your bodies. You attempt to make eye contact with his grayish-green eyes, before looking down at your feet, your stomach turning in on itself. 

It isn’t until his fingers move along your jaw to your chin, tugging it up so you can look at him right there, your face resting in the cup of his hand, his hats shadow covering the both of you, making it feel as if you are the only people in the room as a slow gulp glides down your throat, his eyes searching yours as you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“I need you to get real food, you’re gonna get a sandwich. You understand me?” You open your mouth slightly to breathe in his words, stuck in a trance that has you resting your hands on his forearms for balance. 

You wish to speak, to object but only nod as he seems satisfied before breaking away to move up in line with only two people now ahead of you. 

It feels as if your heart is beating through your throat as you expected him to kiss you then, wanted him to. Yearned for it, lips left unsatisfied as you take them between your teeth to gnaw at them. 

He doesn’t even seem bothered in the slightest as he continues to read the menu, distracted as you size him up. 

His tanned arms roped with veins leading down to his hands, his jeans bolted together with a belt as the jeans hang over his boots, the thick beard that holds specks of gray that creep down his throat. His face littered with scars, the most prominent on his nose… he’s truly one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever come across. 

Why didn’t he kiss you… 

Your thoughts are interrupted as the person making the sandwiches asks what you want. You list off an assortment of turkey and cheese and other veggies before turning to Joel, somewhat seeking his approval as he gives you a little nod. 

You slip his wallet into his jeans before heading to find a table in the back, immediately getting side-tracked by a little kiddie ride shaped as a horse, seen through the glass window of the building, fishing into your own pockets to pull out a little ten-cent coin before exiting through the back door. 

It isn’t hard to settle onto it, clearly made for those younger but something fun to do while you wait as it begins to rock you back n forth, popping your forgotten sucker back into your mouth as you move your hips with the ride, it brings you back to a certain comfort forgotten in your childhood as you close your eyes, listening to the carnival music that exudes from the speaker box next to it.  

“What… are you doing?” You're interrupted by a familiar voice as you turn your head to Joel as he stands by the door, propped up, arms folded across his chest in a questioning way, not judging but curious. 

“Ridin’ a pony…” You hum biting into your lollipop, turning back your attention to the machine as it ceases. 

“Seems like you’re done ridin’ a pony, come on in so we can eat.” He huffs out, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, the summer sun shining down as you remove yourself before heading inside, sliding into a seat across for him, unwrapping your sandwich to find he’s already dug into his own, pastrami it seems. 

Your eyes narrow behind him as you find a group of teen boys, three, eyeing you. 

One spreading his legs open as another makes a gesture to sit on his lap, realizing they had seen you from the glass on the ride, a queasy feeling filling your stomach as you remove your hands from the wrapper placing them in your lap.

It doesn’t take Joel long to notice, his brow raising, chewing on the last bites in his mouth before leaning back in his seat, expecting some sort of reason as to why you haven’t touched your food. 

“Theyre just… starin…” You whisper, hushed, scared to provoke them, avoiding their gaze, and chuckles from behind him. You’re older than them, you know it, but there's more of them, and with men, when there's a will there's a way. 

He’s quick to set his food down, not missing a beat as his head swivels over his shoulder before back to you. 

It’s hard to hide your sickening expression, regretting your choice to reconnect with your inner child, “Can we maybe leave?” 

The stupid tears prick at your eyes as you once more feel dwindled to a piece of meat for the wolves to pick at. 

You don’t expect the reaction, you don’t expect Joel to get up with a loud screech of the chair against the tile that has patrons of the shop turning to see the commotion. His reserved, quiet, & sturdy demeanor, now replaced with a brash, harsh, mighty one as he approaches the table. 

“There a fucking problem?” 

He doesn’t yell… you think it’s scarier that way? His anger low and simmering yet already intimidating, you hope you never see his anger come to a rolling boil. 

The men, younger, stupider, shake their heads, one of them speaking up, “N- no just having fun, just fun…” You don’t hear Joel’s response but watch as the boys scurry out eventually, allowing Joel to return to the table after apologizing to a nearby couple for his language. 

He sits back down, not waiting to take a bite into his sandwich before gesturing to yours as you obey, unwrapping it and digging in to eat in comfortable silence, a strong wave of protection washing over you. An unfamiliar one, one never expressed to you before, it isn’t necessarily the possessive protection from toxic boys in the past, it’s healthy and feels good? 

You don’t notice he’s finished, lost in your own thoughts until you hear his mouth ‘tick’ and then feel his thumb swipe at the corner of your mouth getting at a bit of mustard there before pressing it to his mouth, sucking it off with a quick motion that leaves you biting into your sandwich to subdue the need to press your lips to his, squeezing your thighs together. 

It’s nice just sitting in silence with him, as he sips his beer, and you drink your coke, finishing eventually, keeping the bottle cap.

Eventually, you head back to the truck. 

Truth be told you hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks, making it hard to stay awake for the drive, eventually resting your head on the window as you think of telling Joel just that, maybe to show your gratitude. 

Instead, you drift off deciding whether to or not to. 

You don’t notice you’re awake until you collide with a plush mattress, groaning into the comforter as you come to realize you’re in a bed. 

You spring awake, forgetting the day, forgetting where you are, only knowing you are now in a strange bed placed there by a person…

“Easy…” A familiar voice sounds out as you scramble to get up, a warm hand pressing to your chest to ease you back down as you remember, it’s Joel, you’re safe. 

He pulls back the covers as you slip in, expecting to hear him follow in soon, expecting to feel his body heat warm the cold bed.  

Instead, you watch as his figure strides to the door, confusion setting in. 

“Joel… where are you going?” It comes out in a hush, feeling too vulnerable for your own skin, the exterior of hyper-independence you've worn since grade school replaced by an anxious curiosity.  

“Got a room right next door, just holler f’ya need anythin…” He moves to open the door, a gust of warm wind entering as you realize it’s night, a nearby clock reading 8:32 p.m.

You don’t know why you’re frustrated, it’s stupid. Your hands balling up the sheets as you clench onto them, attempting to figure out what it would to get him to stay. 

He’s being respectful you think, but it makes a certain loneliness you are familiar with, creep its way up your spine. You don’t have the guts to ask him to stay. 

“Okay… if some serial killer comes to get me in the middle of the night it's your fault,” is all you can get out, attempting to soothe your own anxiety with jokes. 

You can see him slightly as he exits the door, the soft moonlight reflected upon him in a way that makes your heart flutter, “Not on my watch baby, get some sleep.” 

The door shuts with a hard thud and soon you get up to lock it behind him leaving you wishing he shared the bed with you. 

You drift off that night imagining what it would look like if he did.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Heyy could i have a Rocky and Mordecai (separately) with an insecure fem!reader? Maybe they find her crying one day bcs of that and they just comfort her?

Thx

A/n: I am very sorry this took me forever

•Rocky Rickaby•

It was your muffled sobbs that caught his attention, Rocky never liked it when you cried because that meant someone hurt you. Tilting his head to the side, he spotted you with your arms wrapped around your knees.

"Whatcha-"

"Am...am I ugly Rocky?"

Kneeling down beside you, the tom nearly cracked his head under the table where you were hiding yourself. "What a silly thing to say! You're the prettiest gal in the city! Hell I reckon you're the prettiest gal in whole Universe."

Sniffling, you let out a small laugh as you quickly brushed away your tears. It was hard to return a smile when his was so infectious. "That's such a silly thing to say Rocky...you don't know every woman."

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiled at you as his ears twitched. "I don't need to! Not when I already know what perfection looks like."

Letting out a few more sniffles, you gave him one last smile as you slipped out from the table. "Wanna grab something to eat?"

"Ha! I'm never one to turn down food, especially when it comes from you." Rocky gave you a wink grasping your hand as he tugged you towards the entrance. He never asked who upset you, he did not have to.

He would always make you feel better again, now he just hopes that the bastard that upsets you likes to walk. Cars are so easily damaged.

•Mordecai Heller•

"Poor thing is upset about something...won't tell me who though...you better make this right Heller. Hate to see someone as cute as her upset." Serafine waved him off as she walked away.

Rolling his neck, Mordecai bit back an annoyed grunt as he made his way towards you. You weren't looking at anything in particular but he could see your makeup had run down your face. Fixing his tie, he quickly made his way towards you. While he may bot admit it, Mordecai hated seeing you get upset. He always felt like he couldn't do anything.

"Why are you upset?"

Adverting your gaze, you sniffled as you wrapped your arms around yourself. "I..."

Swallowing you adverted your gaze shaking your head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Was it him again?" Mordecai didn't have to hear you mutter out yes, he already knew the answer to it. This bastard has been harassing you for a while. "Thought so."

Standing up, Mordecai slipped out his handkerchief as he started to clean off your face. "You shouldn't listen to what that buffoon say's he does not know what he was talking about....he never does."

Leaning into his palm, you gave him a weak smile as you stood up. "Really?"

It was the faintest of smiles, one that he would ever deny but he could not lie to you. "Really, now how about we head out for a walk. I find fresh air really helps clear my mind."

Nodding your head, you slipped out of the chair. You two walking out of the little hut. Keeping his gaze ahead of him, Mordecai knew what he had to do. This was the last time that bastard hurt you.