#steering wheel trim

[mrs-trophy-wife]

[dewwinchester]

stitches | d.w.

synopsis: dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

requested by: @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy

pairing: pre-series!dean winchester x reader

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: fluff, some angst, john winchester, blood, wounds/injury, stitching up wounds, typical spn series warnings. no use of y/n, no pronouns used!

a/n: if john winchester has no haters, i'm dead <33 also, it's currently 12am, so if the editing is a little wonky, pls forgive me

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as you navigated through the torrential downpour hammering down around you and your car. The rain was relentless, blinding you as it pounded against the windshield. The smell of wet asphalt filled your car as the tires slipped on the rain-soaked road. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears – a mixture of adrenaline from trying to avoid a horrific car wreck and anxiety from the message still illuminating your car in a dim light.

I need your help.

It wasn’t a message you were expecting. Normally, in your line of work, pleas for help came in the form of a frantic phone call or a scream in the dark. They never came in the form of a random text message.

And they never came from Dean Winchester.

You were having a relatively normal night, working a case and staking out a couple of vamps, when your phone buzzed with several messages from Dean. First, he asked if you were busy. Then, he asked if you were nearby. Moments later, he sent you an address to a motel. Then, came the message that caused you to leave the stakeout completely and go frantically speeding down the road.

Your tires screeched as you rounded a corner. The neon light of the motel soon appeared ahead, its reflection dancing across the many puddles on the asphalt. You pulled into the first parking spot you saw and stepped out of your car. The rain immediately soaked you to the bone, wetting your hair and your clothes, sending a chill through you, but you couldn't find yourself caring as your eyes scanned for Dean's room number.

The motel was rather seedy-looking – more so than normal. The wooden palings were splitting, and the paint was chipping off the trimmings and walls. There wasn't any other car in sight. You wondered just how bad things were if Dean had found himself in a place like this.

Once you found his room, you practically ran over to the door and threw it open, not bothering to knock. Your eyes immediately landed on Dean, who sat on the edge of one of the beds, his back to you. A wave of relief washed over you – he was alive – but the sight of his tense shoulders and the untouched beer bottle in his hand kept your anxiety simmering.

You closed the door behind you and took off your saturated jacket, leaving it next to Dean's leather one.

"Hey," you said with a sigh, "You okay?"

Dean responded with a curt nod but said nothing more. You stepped closer to him and placed your hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, and you felt a pang in your chest. When you finally got close enough, you quickly scanned his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and his normally sharp gaze was clouded with exhaustion. HIs hair was wet and spiky, and his lip trembled from the cold.

Your eyes continued to trail down to his side, where his shirt clung to his skin, dark and wet with blood. Three jagged and deep gashes spread across Dean's side. His shirt was torn.

Your eyes widened as panic once again surged through you. You frantically looked around for anything you could use to stop the bleeding. You grabbed the first towel you could get your hands on and pressed it to his side, grimacing when Dean winced in pain.

"Jesus, Dean. What the hell happened?"

"Werewolf," he gritted out.

"I think you're gonna need stitches."

There was no first aid kit in sight, so your mind began running through alternatives. You could go to the front desk and ask if there were any supplies, but asking for anything more than a simple band-aid would cause suspicion, and the last thing you needed was someone knocking on the door asking too many questions.

You could use dental floss. You had known plenty of hunters that used it in the past and not had a problem, but you weren't sure there were any needles…

"There's a sewing kit in the bathroom."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You read my mind."

“One of my many talents.” 

----

Needle, thread, dental floss, tissues, water. You looked over the supplies in front of you, mind racing at a million miles an hour. Despite being a hunter yourself, you weren’t exactly a natural when it came to stitching wounds and performing first aid. In fact, the sight of too much blood caused your head to throb and your legs to go numb.

Dean had already taken off his shirt, leaving you to see the full extent of his injuries. The gashes started at the top of his ribs and curled around to his left shoulder blade. Blood continued to trail down his back, causing your mouth to go dry. Pins and needles tingled your toes, and the room began to spin…

You shook off your thoughts and shifted your weight between your two feet, hoping to get some blood flow back there. You put your thoughts and discomfort behind you and prepared to begin. 

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” you said, trying to control the shake in your voice. 

“Not my first time,” he replied. 

You grabbed the needle and thread, and – with shaky hands – tried your best to thread the cotton through the eye. You sat behind him, deciding to start around his shoulder. With a damp cloth, you tried your best to clean around the area, whispering apologies whenever Dean flinched. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly, using your gentlest touch to guide the needle through. 

“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “werewolf.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” you trailed off. “Where’s your dad?” 

Dean clenched his jaw, and you immediately knew you had touched on a rough subject. Throughout the time that you had known Dean, you had learnt his relationship with his father was far from healthy. John Winchester was not your favourite person in the world. In fact, you and Dean had gotten into plenty of arguments about him in the past. 

“He’s not here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, continuing your stitching. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Do we have to do this–?”

“--Yes.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. The anger and tension radiating off him was palpable, his shoulders were tense and his breathing was heavy. You finished stitching the first gash, and tied the thread off with a neat little knot. Instead of immediately moving on to the next one, you moved around and knelt in front of Dean so you were eye level. You placed a hand on his right knee and traced gentle circles into his skin with your thumb. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a look that was simultaneously stern and empathetic.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

“We’d been stakin’ out the thing for weeks,” Dean began. “We finally pinpointed it to this boathouse. Dad was sure that it was in there, so he sent me in first to sweep the area.”

“And…?”

“Turns out it was a lot smarter than we thought,” Dean said, a dejected smile on his lips. “It was waitin’ there for us. Dad knew, but I didn’t.” 

“Then why did he send you in there?”

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. But the thing had me on the ground before I even realized what was goin’ on. Put it’s claws in me and ran.”

You shuddered. 

“Dad didn’t stay,” Dean continued. “The second he realised it jumped ship, he went too. Left me with my phone and wallet… I walked here.” 

“What?” 

If Dean’s anger was palpable, you were damn-near irate. You pressed your lips together, trying to control yourself from spewing all sorts of profanities. If you had it your way, you would have marched your way up to John Winchester and given him what for. You would have knocked his lights out if Dean had let you. 

You stood and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes.

"He – you? God!"

"Alright hot-head, calm down."

"No, I will not calm down!" You spun on your heel, turning to face him again. "Your own father left you for dead!"

"He's done worse."

You laughed bitterly. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Alright," Dean sighed, raising a hand to stop your tirade. "I'm okay! I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah, you're the pinnacle of okay."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping."

You shook your head. Angry tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them fall.

"I just wish you would understand that you deserve better," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You could leave his ass behind any time you like -"

"Oh yeah? And then what?"

You paused, and looked down to your feet. 

"You could come with me?" 

For half a second, Dean smiled. “You and I would kill each other in half an hour.” 

He was right – but you’d never let him admit it. 

“Why’d you text me then?” You asked. “If we’re just gonna kill one another–”

Dean shot you a pointed look. 

“– I’m serious.” You said. 

Dean stood up with a groan and walked over to you. You stood with your arms crossed, a slight frown creasing your brow. Nothing could be heard but the rain that battered against the windows and the thundering of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Dean tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, “You’re the first one I thought of… The only one I wanted here.” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you shook your head fondly. “You’re fantastic at changing the subject.” 

Dean winked, but his smooth-talking was soon replaced by a painful scowl. 

“Let’s finish this up later, shall we? I’d rather not bleed to death.” 

You helped Dean back to the bed and prepared to finish stitching him up. You knew this was far from over – with Dean, it never was – but for now, you would focus on the rain that pattered against the roof and the relief that Dean was with you, safe. 

[ceilidho]

prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

-

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.  

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision. 

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask. 

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work. 

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes. 

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days. 

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate. 

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window. 

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak. 

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change. 

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side. 

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye. 

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt. 

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply. 

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up. 

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist. 

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it. 

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger. 

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath. 

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing. 

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way. 

You, however, press yourself back into him. 

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust. 

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do. 

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound. 

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. 

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up. 

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears. 

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment. 

“No—no one else—” 

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.” 

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. 

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus. 

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist. 

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—” 

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone. 

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

[ribbonprincess]

🍯࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

note: road head (don't do that folks!) reader and Rafe refers to him as daddy,rafe is a head pusher.

You and Rafe are driving back home after a long afternoon of golfing,more like him as you were just admiring your boyfriend from the golf cart and sometimes giving him his club. He looked so hot with his white shirt and the few drops of sweat that you would occasionally see roll down the side of his face. So you do the only thing that seems right in your mind.

"Jesus,stop that- I'm driving,you're gonna make us crash!" Rafe's pushing your hand away from his crotch,making you whine as you put it back "please..wanna make you feel good rayray,I'll be quick! You just need to focus on the road,I'll be quick!"

Your boyfriend seems hesitant,looking at you before looking back at the road "okay...yeah,fine. Always need something in your mouth hm? Even while I'm driving." You're quick to undo his pants and pull the zipper down,pulling his dick out of his boxer and smiling widely before bending down to kitten lick at his tip. "thank you!" you mumble with your mouth full of him.

Rafe's eyes are stuck on the road as he tries to keep the steering wheel straight "jeez,what even got into you" one of his hands move to sit on top of your head,sighing shakily. "you just look so hot today,daddy- needed to have you." He nods to himself,pushing you down on his length "there you go...good girl" a small smirk creeps up on his face once he steals a quick glance down. Your eyes are glazed over,tears treating to spill over and ruin your mascara and he can see himself bulging into your cheek as you continue to work on him.

One of your hands cup his balls,massaging them softly making the man above you release a low growl "fuck, you're gonna get yourself in trouble princess. Behave" he says before pushing you completely down,your nose touching the small patch of nearly trimmed blonde hair "hm! Can't breathe rafey!" you whine immediately,coming back up for a quick breath.

"Hey,where are you going? back to work sweetie,cmon I'm close" you have no time to complain as he pushes you on him again,thrusting you into your mouth as best of his abilities "yeah...that's what I mean,nice and warm for me. Always taking me so well baby" your mascara Is now completely smudged all over your cheeks and under eye,making your lashes stick together uncomfortably. "help daddy out a bit baby" Rafe reminds you.

You're clenching your thighs together,moaning at the small friction you get "needy girl,sucking daddy's dick makes you horny?" he chuckles before giving you another small push "c'mon,I'll make you feel good later. Need you to focus on me"

Breathing through your nose you focus back on your work,pressing your tongue against one prominent vein that runs on the side of his dick before sucking on his tip,making him groan out loud. "fuck,yeah...'m so close sweetheart,so close" you look up at him,squeezing at his base with one hand while the other resume the work on his balls. Rafe grunts one more time before he's filling your mouth with sweet and sticky cum,making you close your eyes to enjoy the moment before pulling off him and smiling. "god...are you happy now?can't believe you just did that" He mumbles,tucking himself back in his pants with a low hiss from oversensitivity "yeah!I am,thank you rayray!" pressing your lips to his cheek you leave a sticky stain behind before settling into your seat like nothing ever happened "jeez,'m dating a freak."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 25

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You shiver in the front of the military grade truck. The back shifts as the soldier moves around in the cargo bed. You watched him lift his dusty motorcycle before he pointed you up to front. The heat is blasting but it’s not enough to cut through the frigid chill. 

You glance at the crooked cabin. You’re both happy and scared to leave this place. You examine the lumpy ground, wondering which rises and falls are traps, trying to pinpoint where you got yourself snared. 

The driver’s door swings open and jostles the whole truck. The soldier heaves himself into the seat and snaps the door shut. You turn your head straight as you feel him watching you. He frowns and twists the dial for the heat. It’s strange how he never seems to feel the cold. Then again, he isn’t the same as you. 

He grips the large wheel and steps on the gas. There’s no pretense in your flight. You wonder why though. Is it because of what he did there? Of that iron smell that won’t quite leave the floorboards? Or maybe it’s the constant cold and whistling winds? Do those things even affect him? 

He peels a hand away and gestures, a placid wave as if to calm you. You stare at him. He grabs the wheel again and his eyes stay on the road. He huffs. 

“I’ll try not to be afraid,” you say. 

He nods. That’s good enough. He doesn’t look concerned. He’s always rigid and alert but if he’s not geared up for a fight, then you won’t expect one. 

You cross your arms and try to relax. The seat is stiff and smells dingy. The motor is loud and the axle rattly. He steers with ease, with determination. Wherever you’re going, he won’t stop until you get there. 

The sky’s hue rolls from gray to slate to near pitch black. He drives on. He hands you a packet of trail mix and you nibble on it. Your eyes begin to droop and you yawn, fighting to stay awake. You flinch as he reaches to pet your head. 

He caresses behind your ear then flutters over your cheek. He’s giving you permission to sleep. You should at least cry. You close your eyes and lean against the quaking truck. You sink into a shallow trance, your racing mind stymied by your exhausted body. 

You feel the light change beyond your eyelids. You only lift them as the grayness turns almost white. You sit up as the engine continues its thunderous growls. You sit up and rub your cheeks. 

You look ahead at the large cedars dusted in frost. The truck chugs up the steady winding incline of the hills. The soldier’s gaze is set. He will not stop until you arrive. You sense that you’re close to wherever he means to be. 

He curves around a final deep swerve in the road and through the trees, you spot a peaked roof. He slows as he approaches the facade. It’s entirely unlike the place you just left. The ground is smooth and undisturbed, a layer of snow carpeting cut by the treads of the tires as they crunch through. 

The wooden exterior is trimmed in white as the flakes continue to swirl down. The rich brown planks frame large windows that let in the winter haze. You stare in disbelief. It looks... normal. More than that, it is luxurious. 

You draw around the back of the house, down a crooked side path, and he steers behind a cluster of trees. The shifter cranks as the truck jerks to a stop. The soldier kills the motor and rips the keys from the ignition. 

He gets out first. You wait for him before you dare. He helps you down in the clunky boots he offered. They’re much too big but you expect it’s not unintentional. Your injured leg requires a bit of extra space. As you step off the metal ledge and into the snow, he tuts. 

Before you can stop him, he has you in your arms. The boots hang precariously from your ankles. He carries you toward the back of the house. The back deck is littered in more snow. The house is dark within but not ominous like the backwoods hideaway of before. 

He stops to unlock the door. Another keypad. You can tell it’s newly installed. You have no doubt he is well prepared. He did not choose this place by chance. 

He carries you inside, stopping to kick his boots on the mat. You crane to see through the nearest archway that peeks into a large kitchen. No corrosion, no dust, no dingy stains. He presses on and only stops to set you on a cushy sectional cast in shadows. 

His footsteps stalk away and a light flicks on above. The iron chandelier with its crisscross arms is set with small round bulbs that give a soft glow to the space. You peer around in awe and confusion. How did he find this place? 

He paces the edge of the room, as if inspecting. He goes the large fire place and opens a hidden panel in the white brick. He tweaks the controls and flames pop to life. You gasp. He shuts the cover and turns to you. He stares expectantly. 

You sit forward, “it’s nice.” 

His expression eases and he nods. His fingers unfurl and he takes another glance around. His steps turn listless. 

“The stuff... it needs to come in?” 

He holds up his hand and stops you. He wags his finger. You recline and give a shrug, “alright, I’ll stay.” 

He drops his hand then marches out. You peek after him then make a face. This is... odd. You can’t complain about the upgrade but it’s still very unnerving. How long will this last? How long until the next place? 

The back door opens and closes, several times between the clomping of his thick soles. He continues in and out until finally he twists the latch back audibly. You want to get up and see what he’s doing in the kitchen and between the shuffling and shifting. You’re a bit too tired for that and the prospect of standing makes your leg pulse. 

When he appears again, he traces a mop along the edge of the rug, then returns with a broom to dust off the carpet. His boots are gone. He’s settling in. 

When he finishes cleaning the mess he trailed in, he comes to take off your boots too. He carries them away then scoops you up altogether. You squeal as the sudden rise brings you out of your stupour. 

“Captain?” You eke out. He falters and look at you. His eyes skim away thoughtfully and he shakes his head. “Sorry.” 

He exhales and carries you out of the room. His cheek twitches as he thinks. You didn’t mean to upset him. You don’t know what else to call him. He takes you upstairs, pausing so you can flip on another light, then strides confidently to a doorway. Another switch flicked up. 

He angles you through the door and presents the ivory and teal tile. The large basin tub stands centerpiece to the space and a wall of mirrors reflect it. It’s a lifestyle magazine worthy room. He sets you gently onto the clamshell lid of the toilet. He steps back and points to the tub. 

“Oh, uh, yes, I do feel a bit grimy.” 

He crosses the room and taps the fluffy cotton towel on the bar. Then the gestures to the bath shelf with all the bottles and jars. You can’t help but brace for the boot to drop on your head. 

You get up gingerly and limp over to him. He shies away as you do. You reach for his jacket and he shakes his head, catching your hands. He clings to them for just a moment before he guides them to your dress. 

“Alone?” You ask. 

He nods. 

“Okay,” you slip free of his touch. You back away and turn to peer into the tub. You sway as the porcelain calls to you. A nice, clean bath. “Um,” you spin to face him as he heads for the door, “wait.” 

He stops in the frame and stiffly turns back. Your heart races as you search for the courage to ask. You remember the stories, the legends of what he once was. Maybe he’s still there. 

“Can I call you Steve?” 

He flinches as if you slapped him. You suck in air and cover your mouth. Oh no, you’ve gone too far. You stare at each other as he trembles slightly. He tilts his head as his hands fidget on his belt. 

He slowly raises his hand and taps his ear. You shake you’re head, confused. You lower your arms. “I’m sorry--” 

He stomps and tugs his lobe before gesture a beak with his hand. His eyes blaze at you. You twine your fingers through each other. “Steve.” 

His brows rise and he takes half a step before stopping himself. He nods. Pauses. Nods again. Then he just goes. He leaves you alone with the echo of his name. 

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Citroën GSA Break Cottage, 1983. A special edition of the GSA estate that utilised the alloy wheels and some trim items from the GSA Pallas saloon. Like all LHD GSA models it featured a dashboard with auxiliary controls on pods that could be reached by fingers without moving hands from the steering wheel. The speedometer was on a rotating drum. It was powered by a 1,299cc air-cooled flat-4 engine

[xxblairexxss]

Breaking news

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x girlfriend!reader

Your Instagram story caused a commotion amongst the fans

ynusername has added to their story

ynusername has added to their story

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You had connected the call to your car so you could talk to him while driving home because you didn’t know if you could see the hair saloon again without crying even more. You put on the signal before turning the steering wheel as you sobbed, your boyfriend’s question left hanging in the air.

“Are you okay? Where are you? Do you want me to pick you up?”

“N– no, I’m already on my way back.” You sobbed again.

“Want me to stay on the phone with you?”

���Yes– yes, please. I can’t stop crying!” You wailed and looked at the rear view mirror before switching lane.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I don’t know what happened but as long as you are already on your way back, it’ll be fine.”

Soon as you took off your sneakers, Charles opened the door and pulled you into a hug. You were no longer crying because you had accepted your fate at this point.

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

Breaking the hug, you took a step back, your bottom lips jutting out.

“What? Baby, talk to me. What happened?”

You twirled and cried out. “They cut my hair too short! How can you not see it!”

Charles’s breathe was stuck in his throat. He had been walking back and forth, waiting for you to come back home wondering if the worst thing happened. This, wasn’t in any of those thoughts he had in mind.

“You were crying because they cut your hair too short?” His voice trailed off as he stared at you in disbelief.

“I have never had my hair this short before!”

“You were crying because of this?”

You glowered at his question and paced to the room, leaving him alone while he was still in incredulity. He didn’t even realise there was any changes to your hair because as soon as he saw you, his eyes went to scan on your body for any injuries or maybe some bruises. It never occurred to him it would be something lighter than the all the scenarios he had in his head.

“Baby? You wanna talk about it?” Charles walked in and grinned, trying to act as if he couldn’t see the glare from you.

“I asked them to trim it shorter but not this short, just slightly around my chest but they just cut it right away and I was too scared to say anything.”

“You still look beautiful though.” He could still see the little dots of tears hanging on your lashes as he stared at you in admiration.

“Liar! You are only saying that to make me feel better.”

“I swear! You look beautiful. Trust me.” He tilted your face to look at him and smiled as he studied your face. “See? You’ll always be beautiful, baby. Even if one day you decide to be bald, I’m still gonna find you beautiful.”

“I hate you.”

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 225,637 others

ynusername how it started vs how it ended

charles_leclerc Still the prettiest girl ever ❤️

username1 new hairrr?!?!

username2 girl we need story time

username3 you should have seen twitter and gossip pages. they went WILD 😂😂

username4 i don’t get it?? someone explain

username5 ppls thought something happened to the couple but they seem to be doing fine 🥰

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 378,845 others

ynusername Smiling through the pain :)

charles_leclerc The most beautiful girl 😍

username1 GIRL YOU SLAY THE HAIRSTYLE

username2 drop dead gorgeous

francisca.cgomes literally suits you so much 🫶🏻🩷

username3 what do you mean. you look STUNNINGGG 😍😍

charles_leclerc

Liked by ynusername, pierregasly and 1,507,6739 others

charles_leclerc prettiest in long and short hair. any hairstyle, basically 🩷

ynusername i love youuuu! 🥹 Thank you for taking me out on a dinner date to make me feel better ❤️🥹

username1 FAV COUPLE IS STILL GOING STRONG

username2 i thought they broke up 😭😭😭

username3 tell y/n to never do that again

username4 i’m not gonna believe in love anymore if they ever broke up 💔

username5 oh to have my bf take me out on a date after i cut my hair too short 😔

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! 😭 Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[pastryfication]

american summer | logan sargeant

pairing: logan sargeant x european!reader note: inspired by all the pictures of logan being all american in st. tropez

somewhat an reverse version of this

the moment you step off the plane, the humid florida air wraps around you like a warm blanket, thick with the scent of saltwater and sunscreen. it’s your first time in the u.s., and everything feels both familiar and entirely foreign at once. logan is at your side, his excitement contagious as he rests his hand comfortably on the small of your back, steering you towards the baggage claim.

“welcome to america!” he grins, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. you can’t help but smile back, even as the loud voices and fast-paced energy of the airport overwhelm you a bit.

"yeah, thank you," you reply, trying to take it all in. it’s just an airport, but it feels so different. maybe it’s the accents, or the way everyone seems to be in such a hurry, yet they somehow appear relaxed, like they’re used to the chaos.

as you leave the airport, logan points out the massive suvs and trucks in the parking lot. “see those? classic american cars. none of your tiny european things here.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “they’re so big! do you need a ladder to get into one?”

he chuckles, squeezing your hand. “you get used to it. and you’ll get used to a lot of things over the summer. like this.” he stops by a sleek black pickup, and before you know it, he’s lifting you into the passenger seat as if you weigh nothing. you let out a surprised laugh, feeling a little silly for not being able to climb up on your own, but logan’s grin tells you he finds it endearing.

the drive to his family’s house is an experience in itself. you watch as the scenery whizzes by, the highways lined with palm trees and billboards advertising everything from fast food to theme parks. everything seems bigger, louder, more colorful than back home.

“you’re going to love it here,” logan says as he drives, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching over to rest on your knee. “florida’s got everything—beaches, sunshine, and my mom’s cooking.”

you smile at his enthusiasm, trying to imagine what the next few weeks will be like. the thought of meeting his family makes you a little nervous, but logan’s confidence and good mood is contagious.

when you arrive at his parents' home, a sprawling house with a neatly trimmed lawn and an american flag flapping in the breeze, you can’t help but feel a bit of culture shock. the flag is everywhere—on bumper stickers, hanging from porches, even on clothing. it’s something you’ve seen in movies, but seeing it in person, so prominently displayed, is a different experience.

logan notices your wide-eyed look and laughs softly. “americans love their flags. you’ll see them all over. i can give you a history lesson if you want.”

you roll your eyes playfully. “i think i’ll manage without the lecture, thanks.”

his family welcomes you with open arms, his mom pulling you into a tight hug, his dad giving you a firm handshake. they’re warm and friendly, their accents thick and twangy, and you find yourself trying to decipher their quick speech as they talk about the plans they have for your visit.

the next few days are a whirlwind of new experiences. logan takes you out on his family’s yacht, a sleek vessel adorned with—you guessed it—another american flag. as the boat cuts through the sparkling blue water, you can’t help but feel a bit out of place, unsure of the boating terms and etiquette. but logan is patient, guiding you through the basics with that easy smile of his.

“see, that’s the bow, and that’s the stern,” he explains, pointing to the front and back of the boat. “and don’t worry, you’ll be a pro by the end of the summer.”

you nod, trying to absorb it all, but it’s hard to focus when logan’s standing there in his swim trunks, his hair tousled by the wind, looking every bit like a scene out of a movie. he catches you staring and smirks. “what’s that look for?”

“just . . . appreciating the view,” you tease, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

he laughs, pulling you into his arms. “you’re adorable, you know that?”

“yeah, yeah.” you smile to yourself as you snuggle yourself into his bare chest.

his arms stays around your bikini clad figure, the skin to skin contact raising your spirits as high as his friends’. they’re all in a good mood, tipsy on rosé, throwing out slangs and phrases that leaves you looking at logan quizzically.

he laughs at your expression, leaning down to give you a sweet kiss and you think to yourself, this whole american summer thing might not be so bad.

[rosylix143]

video games | l. felix

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

genre: angst (with comfort lol), fluff, suggestive

synopsis: it’s been so long since you’ve seen your darling boyfriend, but he’s got his priorities somewhere else.

cw: MNDI, established relationship, felix is kinda a dick here (it's okay tho i love him :3), feelings of insecurity, tiny bit of dry humping (let me know if i’m missing any)

wc: 3741

———————————・❥・———————————

Today was an exciting day for you. After long weeks of not seeing your boyfriend, you finally got to have a day with him. He had been on tour with his group for months, and you were counting the days until you finally see him again. You were standing before a long mirror, admiring your outfit for the day: blue vintage low-rise flares, a simple maroon top with spaghetti straps and lace trimming, and your favorite pair of platforms. You even grabbed one of your boyfriend’s hoodies because A) it brought the whole outfit together, with its navy blue color and hints of red, B) it was incredibly comfortable, and C) it’s your boyfriend’s hoodie.

After styling your hair, applying some light pink lipgloss and a decent amount of mascara and eyeliner, you grabbed your large sleepover bag, and walked to your car. During the whole car ride, you couldn’t stop bouncing your leg rapidly. Your heart rate was increasing by the minute, and it was hard keeping your hands stable on the steering wheel. You feared that you would jump up and down like a maniac and pounce on your boyfriend the moment he opened up the door.

The only songs you had playing in the car were the new songs Stray Kids released in the past month, and your heart skipped a beat or two every time your boyfriend’s lines came up. Once you finally reached his place, you parked your car—next to the silver blue car that was on the driveway—grabbed your sleepover bag, and walked up to the door.

It was taking everything in you to not let your body explode on the spot and keep the restlessness on the low. You were standing before the front door, and you rang the doorbell. You held your breath as you saw a blurred figure behind the frosted glass. The door opened, and to your surprise, Kim Seungmin was standing before you. You thought he wouldn’t be at the house as promised.

“Y/N?” Seungmin asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I am here to see Felix,” you said, “Is he here?”

“Oh yeah, he’s here. Just go to his room.”

Seungmin moved aside, letting you into the house. You nodded and thanked him before going upstairs and walking to your boyfriend’s bedroom. The door to his room was closed, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to see your man. You knocked on the bedroom door.

“Felix? Honey, it’s me,” you said.

There was no response. You pouted a little, but you decided to knock again. No response. Confused, you leaned your head against the door to hear if Felix was actually in there, and to your surprise, all you could hear were the sounds of lasers shooting and aggressive keyboard smashing. Your stomach churned a little, but you told yourself to not jump to any conclusions yet. You went ahead and opened up the door, and there he was. Your boyfriend, Lee Felix. His back was facing you, and he was seated in his plush gamer chair, staring at a screen while he was playing another level of League of Legends. His eyes were completely locked on the screen, his blue max headphones were on, and he was indeed aggressively pressing his fingers on the keys of his rainbow keyboard.

You sighed and placed your sleepover bag on the ground, right up against the front of his bed. You then sneakily approached him until you were right behind his gaming chair. You knew that you shouldn’t ever do this, but you had no choice. Besides, maybe it would be a pleasant surprise for him to see your face. Your hands reached for the sides of his headphones, pulling them off his ears. Felix jolted and turned his head to see you, completely surprised by your presence.

“What the hell?!” he asked, completely annoyed, “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You were taken aback by his response. Your eyes widened and all the previous excitement from your body vanished. What am I doing here? Honey, it’s obvious….

Your stomach churned more, and your heart gained 100 pounds. You bent forward a little to meet him at eye level.

“Hey, Felix…” you started, “Ready to go out?”

“Well, obviously not! You just ruined my chance at winning the game! And now I have to restart the whole level! Perfect, just perfect!!”

Felix turned away from you and was getting ready to restart the game. Your mind was racing, mostly with confusion, but you also didn’t like the aggressive sarcasm in his tone. We agreed for today, didn't we?

“But, Pumpkin…you said that we could have our date for today…” you started. You moved to lean back up against his computer desk to at least make some kind of eye contact with him.

“Yeah, well we can just reschedule that.”

Your eyes widened at the suggestion, nearly speechless.

“Reschedule? Felix, we’ve been planning this….and I said that I wouldn’t be free all of next week because of work—”

“Can you just go, Y/N, I don’t have time,” Felix brushed off with annoyance on his tongue, putting his headphones back on.

Another punch to the gut. How could he forget that today was your special day together? After planning this supposedly perfect day with him? Your eyes were starting to well up, and your stomach was swirling. Heat rose under your skin, making you feel dizzy. You quickly snatched Felix’s headphones out of his hands.

“No, Felix! It’s been so long since we last saw each other,” you started, “And you’re just going to take this one day we had and waste it on some video game—”

“You don’t get just how long I’ve been trying to upgrade my rank, Y/N!!” Felix rubbed his head in frustration. “God, you’re so clingy. Fine, if you want my attention so bad, just wait downstairs and let me finish this.”

Silence fell between the two of you, but it was heavy like that sledgehammer of a word. The only thing you could hear was your heart cracking like glass. Felix would never, in a million years, physically hurt you, but his words hit harder than a harsh backhand to the face. He’s never even said such things to you before. Even on days when he was upset, he was careful with his words and tone around you. Especially since he knew you were soft hearted, and you have been nothing but good to him. Clingy? He thinks I’m clingy?

Your heart ached, hoping that this was some bad dream. Your mind was already flooding with flashbacks from the last heartbreak you had. He grabbed his headphones from your hands and put them back on before continuing to play his game. Your hands were beginning to tremble a little. Tears were welling up in your eyes, and you felt like you were going to choke. Your shoulders slumped in defeat, and you solemnly walked out of his bedroom.

“Okay…Go play your video game.”

Your voice cracked, and the weight on your heart got heavier and heavier. You started to cry, quickly grabbing your sleepover bag, and rushed downstairs. Seungmin was in the kitchen grabbing snacks for himself, and worry came across his face once he saw you crying and walking to the front door.

“Y/N?” Seungmin quickly walked up to you, and you stopped immediately to face him. His hand was on the border of the door, leaning in on his side. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

“Nothing…” you lied, sniffing your nose like crazy and your breath hitching. “I’m going home…”

“Did Felix say something to you? I’ll talk to him if you want.”

“No, no, no, please, Minnie. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just leave you guys alone, okay?” You gently pushed Seungmin away, walked out the door, entered your car, and drove away, rivers of mascara streaming down your reddened cheeks.

Seungmin frowned a little as he watched you leave through the window. He quickly turned around and walked upstairs and stepped into Felix’s room. Felix was still seated in his chair, almost done with his game. Determination was only in his eyes, his fingers were aggressively tapping and smashing against the keys of his keyboard, and it was a miracle that his computer mouse wasn’t already crushed. Felix was breaking a sweat from all the stress built up from finishing the level, and Seungmin only sighed. He knew better than to just interrupt Felix when he’s so deep into a game. However, he wanted to confront his roommate just for making you cry. Thankfully, Felix finished the level, exhaling a breath of relief. He took off his headphones and leaned back, messing with his smooth black hair.

“Okay, Y/N…I’m done with my game—”

Felix turned around, and he was faced with Seungmin crossing his arms. Felix’s eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Seungmin? What is it?” Felix asked, “Can you tell Y/N that she can come back upstairs.”

“She left, Felix,” Seungmin said.

“What?” Felix’s eyes widened, and he stood up from his chair. “What do you mean she left? I simply told her to wait downstairs.��

“She left the dorm. Crying.”

“Crying?” Felix was about to ask why, but he remembered just how awful he was being to you. His stomach ached with guilt, and his heart broke as he remembered the look on your face before you left his room. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!! I have to apologize to her, Seungmin!!”

“She said she was going home.”

Upon hearing that, Felix quickly grabbed his jacket. He hastily walked out of his room, and he quickly went downstairs to grab his keys from the little hook on the wall next to the front door.

“You’re going to see her?” Seungmin asked, following Felix.

“I fucked up, so I need to fix it,” Felix admitted, while putting on his jacket. He turned to his friend, who just stood there with his arms casually crossed. Felix’s mind was suddenly flooded with doubtful thoughts, making him feel slightly light headed and nauseous. “God, Seungmin, what if she doesn’t accept my apology? What if she breaks up with me?”

“I don’t think she’s going to break up with you,” Seungmin sighed, “But yes, it was a dick move of you to make her cry like that. So just apologize to her, and hopefully she accepts it.”

“Hopefully. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“That’s alright. Just take care.”

“You too.”

Felix waved goodbye to Seungmin, and walked to his silver blue car. He quickly sat in the driver’s seat, buckled his belt, started the engine, reversed out of the driveway, and immediately made the journey to your house. He was being careful to not speed on the road, but his heart was pounding with urgency and with the worry that if he didn’t even make it to your house within the next five seconds, it would be over for the both of you.

x•x•x•x

You were on the couch, laying in a fetal position, covered in a blanket. Your pillow was soaked and stained, pieces of white tissue paper were scattered all over the coffee table and the floor, and you were hugging your Bbokari plushie tight. Your eyes were red-rimmed with smeared eyeliner, your nose was stuffed, your hair that was perfectly styled for the day became all frizzy and messed up, and your head was aching with the most painful migraine. You looked like a total wreck, but your mind was even messier.

Felix’s angry words replayed in your head over and over again. “God, you’re so clingy. Fine, if you want my attention so bad, just wait downstairs and let me finish this.”

Is that what he really thinks of me? I’m clingy? He thinks I’m clingy?

Your soft heart pounded and hurt so much as if it was pierced with glass. Your breathing kept going back and forth with it being slow and being rapid with each new flood of tears that wanted to come out. You knew that you were the type to love too hard. You couldn’t help it. When you love someone, you always end up falling so deeply into it that it catches others off guard. Your two ex-boyfriends couldn’t stand it, but Felix was the one who always loved that about you. You were so endearing to him, and he loved the days where you would cuddle with him, bake with him, give him gifts, and support him and his dreams, either from the GA crowds or behind your phone screen. You even played video games with him at times, and those nights were always fun, silly, and sometimes steamy.

He loved you just as much as you loved him, so why would he just dismiss this special day like it was nothing? Why did he call you clingy? Was just one day really too much to ask for? Does he not like me anymore? Did he find someone else while touring? He got sick of me…why does this happen to me every time? Am I just too much? Am I just bound to drive people away with my love? Is this some curse of mine? Why can’t I stop being clingy?

Your doorbell rang suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you jolted up on the couch, with your blanket still wrapped around you. Your vision was blurry, but your eyes were focused on the door ahead of you. You wiped the tears off your eyes and walked closer to the door, immediately recognizing the silhouette behind the frosted glass. Your heart pounded, and you weakly and hesitantly opened the door. And there he was, Lee Felix Yongbok, standing before you with a face pleading guilty.

“Felix?”

“Honey, I am so sorry!” he rushed into the door and pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you. You hesitantly held onto him and more tears began to pour out. “I didn’t mean to say those things to you. I was being a cunt.”

“What—”

He let go of you for a moment and his hands landed on the sides of your face, his eyes tearing up at the sight of how heartbroken you looked, with your messy hair and makeup.

“Oh what have I done…” he choked back a cry, and held you close once more. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, Felix,” you said with your throat dry from all the crying. “You’re right. I am very clingy…”

“No, no, no, no. You are not clingy at all, Hon. This was supposed to be our day together, and I’ve ruined it by being an idiot. I should’ve remembered that you were coming over and stopped being a League addict for one day. What I said was completely out of line, and I didn’t mean any of it. I was just angry at my game, and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have. I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay? Tell me whatever it is that you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

He gently wiped your tears with his thumbs, and your heart pounded. You wrapped your hands around his wrists gently.

“You mean it?” you asked.

“Yes, Baby, of course,” Felix whispered, his voice trembling a little. “I love you so dearly. Sometimes, I feel that you’re too good for me with how sweet you are.”

He rested his forehead against yours, and heat rushed up to your cheeks, making your skin glow pink.

“You’re sweet too, Hon…” you said.

“Not as sweet as you,” Felix pulled back a little and shook his head, “I know everyone calls me an angel and everything, but between the two of us….you’re the angel here. Anyways, let me make it up to you please. I’ll even promise no more video games for the time we have left until I leave for tour again. Deal?”

Your eyes widened at his proposal. He really was desperate to make it up to you, even willing to give up one of his favorite pastimes ever in the world. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“Felix, I’m not a monster,” you said, “I’m not going to ban video games from you. I’m always okay with playing some with you.”

“Are you sure?” Felix asked, “It’s okay to be honest with me. I really don’t want to neglect you like that again.”

“Yes, Pumpkin. I’m sure.”

“Okay, then maybe no video games unless I invite my amazing girlfriend over to play some. How about that?”

You giggled a bit and nodded at the new proposal he made.

“Deal,” you said, feeling some of the weight off your shoulders and heart disappear.

“Perfect,” Felix nodded, relieved that you agreed. “Anything else you want me to do, Baby? And I mean anything.”

“Well….a kiss from my man would be nice.”

Felix’s cheeks reddened a little, making the cute freckles on his face pop out more. He leaned in closer, your noses nearly touching.

“Only one kiss?” he asked, his voice a little lower—low enough to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter. “That’s all you need, Sweetheart?”

You nodded, and Felix smiled softly. He closed his eyes, and so did you, as he leaned in for a warm kiss. After what’s been so long without seeing him, your body felt like it was going to explode. It was like drinking water after days and days of drought. You immediately pulled him in close and kissed him back, but it was more passionate and more needy. You both took a moment to breathe, and Felix smirked while you were a blushing mess.

“I thought you only needed one kiss?” he teased, lifting your chin up slightly. “You want more, my angel?”

His deep voice combined with the sensual gaze in his eyes sent shivers down your spine. You swallowed a little and only let out a shaky “Yes please…”

Felix chuckled and kissed you again, but this time it was firm and more heated. He wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you close to his body—chest to chest—as he kissed you more and more. You whined against his lips, and you pulled him by the shirt and walked backward into your home. Felix quickly closed the door behind him, and you both landed on the black couch, his body hovering over yours.

You both broke the kiss once more, heat radiating off your skins, and you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Felix caressed your cheek tenderly and scanned your body, already mesmerized by the way your chest rose and fell. Maybe it was the intimate lighting of the room that made you look extra sexy. He also realized just how cute your outfit was and how well it hugged your curves. Not to mention, the navy blue hoodie you “borrowed” from him the last time you were together. The hoodie was already zipped open, and it looked so big on you, making you look a little smaller than you actually are. If he could, Felix would put you in his pocket forever. He gently tugged on one of the drawstrings on the hoodie and smirked at you.

“You’re wearing my hoodie.”

“It’s too comfy to give back,” you explained.

“Keep it,” Felix whispered, leaning into the crook of your neck to plant a kiss there. “It looks cuter on you than me anyway.”

You blushed and let out a heavy breath at the kiss, and you arched your back slightly. Felix smirked and grabbed your hips as his lips traveled down from your neck to your collarbone to the mounds of your breasts. You shivered more, your skin scorching with need. You tightly grabbed onto Felix’s shirt, like it’s the only thing to ground you.

“You’re so soft, Baby,” he groaned before leaving another kiss on your skin. “My soft angel baby…”

Another breath was sucked out of you the more he kissed your skin. One of his hands wandered up under your shirt, and the other reached down and grabbed your ass, pulling your hips right up against his. You gasped and whined and wrapped your legs around him.

“Felix!!” you whined, as he started to slowly roll his hips right up against you. Heat began to rush and pool down your body, and you let out a little hiss feeling his hardness through his pants, the faster he rolled his hips. Your breathing became unsteady, and your body was overwhelmed with need. “Oh God…”

“Mmm?” he hummed, slowing down his movements. “You uncomfortable, Honey?”

“No…it’s just…” you panted a little. You blushed even more at the sight of him right above you, his dark curtain bangs dangling from his head, looking so silky and smooth. His eyes were heavily focused on you, and his Adam’s apple was bobbing a little. “Maybe let’s take this to my room?”

Felix smirked and chuckled a little, loving just how you asked him so sweetly. He nodded and immediately picked you up, carrying you bridal style. He took notice of the Bbokari plushie that was on your couch, its eyes on the two of you. Felix’s heart warmed up at the sight of the plushie, imagining you holding it tight, cuddling it, in your bed—especially on the days when he’s not able to see you.

“You didn’t see anything,” Felix said to the plushie.

You were confused for a moment at who he was talking to, but you looked at the plushie on the couch, quickly connecting the dots. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bbokie’s traumatized now,” you chuckled.

“Well, let’s not traumatize him further,” Felix said before kissing your forehead and carrying you to your room. “Alright, Honey, I got you.”

You held onto Felix tight as he carried you with so much confidence and so much gentleness. The door to your bedroom was already open, so it wasn’t that hard for him to walk in the room. Your heart pounded with anticipation, your body ready for him to pour all of his love, passion, and desire into you. The moment he laid you down in your soft pink bed and went in for another deep kiss, you knew that it was going to be a very long and very unforgettable night.

———————————・❥・———————————

a/n: i really liked writing this one lol. comment down what you thought :)) feel free to reblog if you liked it.

masterlist | taglist

[badomensbaby]

playing games. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: it's so fun to tease luke, to rile him up and get him right where you want him. but actions come with consequences.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. teasing, dirty talk, safe sane and consensual, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), shower sex, established relationship, light daddy kink.

words: 3,831

a/n: to the anon that requested this, i hope this is satisfactory. i literally could not stop thinking about it all of last night and today. so. here it is.

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Copyright © 2024 badomensbaby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane.”

The first words Luke has spoken to you in the last twenty minutes, since the two of you bid your friends goodbye at the restaurant. They’re spoken so low and strained that it warms your chest, heart fluttering when you hear your boyfriend’s uneven breaths echo the vehicle. 

Only minutes away from home, you know the moment you’re both out of the car and heading inside he’ll be all over you. He hasn’t stopped staring at you all night, in particular the black dress that clings to your frame like second skin. Exposing just enough of your chest that someone tall, like him, has a rather perfect view. But his favorite, as you know, is the slit up your left thigh in the velvet fabric. 

Your fingers toy with the lace trim, humming in hopes you’re maintaining a sense of obliviousness, while your dress hikes further up your thigh, exposing mouth-watering skin you know Luke just can’t resist. 

He shifts in his seat, likely trying to relieve pressure, dick strained against the seam of his dress slacks. He’s never subtle about how hard he gets for you, or how quickly, but the less he speaks, the angrier he becomes. His silence is like a time bomb, and likely you won’t make it to the foyer before he’s buried inside of you. 

But that isn’t what you’re aiming for. Not tonight. No, you want to draw it out. Your lips lift into a light smile, remembering when Luke had dropped his fork beneath the table and found your thighs splayed open, white lace doing almost nothing to conceal you. His nails scratched along the inside of your thigh, desperate, but ultimately restrained himself in favor of not looking like a sex-crazed idiot in front of your friends. 

You want more of that. Being just out of Luke’s reach. Taunting him, speaking with sways of your hips and telling him just wait with your eyes. You want him to fiend for it, beg and beg while he’s right there on the edge so close to taking what he wants until you give him permission. The sex is always better when he’s desperate. 

“I haven’t done anything.” You hum quietly, keeping your eyes trained out of the window as Luke makes a right turn into your neighborhood. It’s late, nearly eleven-thirty, which only makes your plan all the more enjoyable. 

Luke scoffs. His knuckles remain white, clasped so tightly around the steering wheel that it makes your stomach pool with warmth. It’s thrilling to see him fighting it off, resisting the urge to fuck you in the car before you even make it inside. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.”

You let his words settle between you. Instead of a verbal response, you force out a yawn, followed by a sigh that sounds too whiny and moan-like. Luke shifts in his seat once again, before pulling into the driveway. 

You’ve never seen him shift the vehicle into park so quickly, or remove the keys from the ignition. You maintain the sense of aloofness, slowly sliding out of the car and trekking towards the front door, Luke hot on your heels as you punch in the code for the electronic door lock. 

Luke kicks his shoes off behind you, as your heels clack on the wooden floors. Phase one, light teasing in the car, complete. Now for phase two. You begin yawning once more, reaching to remove your earrings as you head towards the stairs to your bedroom. You hear Luke intake a sharp breath before ultimately following. 

“Y/N,” He says around a harsh swallow, standing in the doorway of your room. You remove your jewelry, placing each necklace and ring in its rightful place on the vanity, briefly glancing at your boyfriend through the mirror. 

He’s flushed, sober with a soft pink that blooms down his chest, shirt splayed open and desperation tight in his shoulders. He’s trying so hard, you can tell, the way his jaw locks and hands ball into fists at his sides. Luke’s playing nice, for now, but you decide phase two must continue. 

“M’tired, Lu,” You say, but the tone of your voice isn’t convincing and he knows you’re bluffing. You turn to him, batting your dark, inky lashes, head tilted. “I just need a shower and some rest. Tonight was a lot.”

“You’ve been a tease all night,” He says, baby blues practically swallowed whole by his pupils. You can’t deny how exciting it is to see him like this, how poorly you know you’ll be walking tomorrow. It’s just too easy to rile him up, twist the little knob in his back and set him off like a toy. “And now you’re just—“

“I’m just what?” You press, a challenging brow raised. “What’s got you so riled up, Lu?”

“You—“ He narrows his eyes, though he doesn’t hide the way they snake down the length of your body. The curve of your breasts, the width of your hips, like a man starved of your touch his entire life. “I see right through you, you know.”

You tut softly. “What ever do you mean?” You taunt in a soft voice, plush lips pouted, reverting your eyes from Luke’s reflection. “Would you mind unzipping my dress, baby?”

A low groan rumbles up his throat. “Of course,” He says, crossing the room in long strides before he’s grasping the zipper, breath warm against the back of your neck with every inch it’s undone. Goosebumps prickle the exposed skin, and Luke’s hand rests at the base of your spine. You can tell he’s fighting it, you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s practically drooling. “You’re really going to shower?” There’s a tilt of disbelief in his voice. 

“Mhm,” You hum, turning gently, careful to avoid stepping on Luke’s sock-covered feet with your heels. Want flashes across his face, fingers obviously dying to brush the straps from your shoulders, to expose you, consume every dip and curve of you. “You’ll be a good boy and wait, won’t you?”

Luke’s eyes briefly flutter closed. He’s almost there. You have him right in the palm of your hand, shaking him and rattling him and he’s so close to going off. To taking you the way you want him to. Time for phase three. 

“Good,” Despite not agreeing with your prior statement, you pat Luke’s chest softly, his eyes dark when they blink open. You muster up your sweetest smile, stepping around him, heels clicking tauntingly on the wooden floors as you sway towards the en-suite bathroom. “You know..” You trail off when you cross the threshold, flicking on the lights and turning on the shower.

Luke hasn’t moved. He can barely see you from where he’s still standing, painfully hard and holding on to your every word. “What?” He asks in a rasp.

“It’s such a shame,” You approach the threshold once again. “I really thought you liked this dress.”

“I do,” Luke answers quickly. “Of course I fucking do, Y/N.”

“Then why am I the one taking it off?” You tilt your head, finding yourself wanting to smile at the visible confusion on Luke’s face before running the tips of your fingers across your shoulders, the straps falling, top half of the dress pooling at your waist. Breasts bare. You swear Luke stops breathing. 

Why stop now? You figure it’s best to keep going, push him until he breaks. Hooking your thumbs through the material, you slide the velvet fabric down until it meets the floor. Carefully, you step out of it, curling the toe of your heel beneath it. In an instant, you kick the dress, watching as it flies and falls into a lump by Luke’s feet. 

Luke throws his head back, Adam’s apple visibly strained in his throat as he attempts to swallow. “You fucking tease.” He reiterates, something akin to a growl escaping through his clenched teeth. 

“Can’t let the water run cold,” You say, head tilted, before turning back into the bathroom. 

Luke’s hands are on you in an instant.

Heavy, warm hands clasping your hips, halting you and drawing your nearly bare body until your back is flush with his clothed chest. “You fucking minx,” He utters into the skin of your shoulder, breathy and warm. “It’s all games to you, isn’t it? Getting me all out of sorts for a bit of fun.”

You reach behind you, hand finding the curls nestled at the nape of Luke’s neck, holding them tightly between your fingers. “Of course it is, baby,” You tell him. “I like you like this. You always fuck me just like I need.”

“Oh, is that so?” Luke presses a soft kiss to the juncture of your neck. You lax against him, feeling his arousal press into your backside. “I love when you act like you’re in charge.”

“Well if you’d get a move on maybe I wouldn’t have to.” 

Luke’s fingernails dig into your skin, eliciting a soft hiss from you. “You know what I want, Y/N?” He asks. “I want to see my cock down your throat. Been thinkin’ about you on your knees in those pretty heels all night, baby.”

Your breath falters, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Luke’s teeth graze and threaten to sink into your shoulder, but you feel him push you away. “Think you can do that, pretty girl?”

You nod, not trusting your words. Luke guides you, between slow blinks and arousal stirring in your stomach, until his hand is in your hair and forcing your body down until your knees hit the floor. In nothing but a pair of lace underwear and a pair of slim, black heels, you peer up at him. 

“C’mon, baby, can’t let the water run cold,” He echoes your earlier words, a slick, teasing smirk pulling at his lips. He uses his hold in your hair to bring your face closer to his slacks, cock oh so strained against the seam. Lips parted, you mouth along his clothed length happily. Tongue and all. “Fuck, you’re gonna be messy tonight, huh?”

Knowing how he’ll praise you, you fumble with Luke’s belt and fly, wasting no time pulling his slacks to the middle of his thighs. His cock springs free, hard and tip flushed red, precome dribbling down the head. You adore Luke’s cock, it’s so pretty, fitting for a man like him. 

A low hiss leaves Luke’s mouth when you get a hand on him, guiding his slick tip past your lips and closing your mouth around him. Warm and velvety, just what he needs. He’s heavy and salty on your tongue. “We’re not playing games here, baby,” He says. “Let me tell you how this is going down before you get too dumb to listen.”

You moan around him. 

Luke’s hips jerk. “Fuck,” He moans softly. “Gonna fuck your mouth, yeah? Gonna let me use you for a bit, baby. Get my cock all wet for you,” He pants softly as you slowly take him deeper. “Then, m’gonna fuck your sweet pussy until you’re sobbing. Begging me for more. That sound okay to you, baby?”

You glance up at him, sucking harshly, tongue running up the thick vein on the underside of his cock. “Good girl,” Luke hums. “Hands off.”

You let go of the base, but settle your palms on the tops of Luke’s thighs. 

“I said hands off,” He tugs at your hair. It doesn’t faze you, not really, but tears threaten the corners of your eyes. “Don’t be a fucking brat, Y/N.”

You want it rough, though. Instead, you dig your fingernails into his skin, further proving the fact that you like this. Love it, really. 

Luke thrusts his hips forward, tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat, spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth. “Oh, I see,” He tuts. “You’re still playing games.”

He’s relentless then, fucking your spit-slicked mouth, your nose brushing his lower stomach with every move of his hips. You’re utterly powerless, kneeling on the bathroom floor while he takes what he deserves from you. Wetness pools between your thighs, no doubt soaking the already damp fabric of your lace underwear. 

He releases you suddenly, brain fuzzy and scalp sore, stepping away from you and stripping his slacks down his legs. “Get up,” Luke instructs, unbuttoning the dark shirt stretched across his shoulders. “Take those stupid fucking panties off. Heels too.”

When you don’t move, Luke grabs you beneath the arms and hauls you to your feet. You fight the urge to smile. “Why are you still trying to play, Y/N? You like when I’m angry, huh? Is that it?”

Jesus, you’re soaked. It’s pathetic, the way your thighs feel sticky and warm. 

“Fine. We’ll play your way.” 

The flimsy lace is torn, then, by Luke’s quick hands. He notices how damp the fabric is, how sweet you smell, now that you’re fully exposed. “Fuck.” 

“Get in the shower.”

“My heels—“

“Fucking keep them on. M’not waiting another second, need my cock in you yesterday,” Luke says through clenched teeth, all but pushing you towards the steam-filled glass shower. You’re careful to step inside, heels on the thinner side, but Luke, despite his lustful fury, remains aware. “C’mere.” 

Luke guides your back to the tiled wall, warm from the water that fills the small cubicle, hand nestled beneath your thigh as his other hand reaches for your heat. Smooth and slick and warm, arousal practically drenching his fingers instantly. “My perfect girl,” He says in a breath. “My own little whore, huh?”

“Luke.” You rasp, feeling a finger slide effortlessly inside of you. You clench tightly, neck craned and hips arching towards him. Luke slides in a second. Curling and crooking so perfectly. 

“That’s it, good girl,” Luke dips to mouth at your jaw, fingers working wonders inside of you. Messy, open-mouthed kisses to your skin, thumb finding your clit with ease and tracing taunting circles there. “M’fucking dying for it, baby. Wanna be inside you so bad.”

“Please,” You moan softly. “Please, so close-“ 

You feel it, Luke’s thumb speeding up, fingers pumping into you, a slick sound nearly missable with the shower blasting against Luke’s back. Your stomach tightens, toes tingle. You’re nearly there. Just a bit more pressure and— 

Luke comes to a complete halt. 

“You think I’d let you cum? Really?” A dark, low chuckle echoes the cubicle. 

Your heart’s racing, skipping as Luke retracts his fingers and lifts his head, pushing the digits past his lips and curling his tongue around them. Savoring the taste of you. “Fuck, wish you weren’t being such a fucking brat. Would’ve laid you out on the bed, buried my face in that sweet cunt and ate you out until I couldn’t breathe.”

“Fuck me,” You plea. “Need your cock. Please, Luke.”

Luke arches a brow. “Oh, now you want to play good girl, huh?” His hold tightens on your thigh. Likely painting soft bruises with his fingertips you’ll find tomorrow and trace fondly. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you. I’ll fucking destroy you, angel. But if you even try to cum, you get nothing. Understood?”

You nod, a light sob stuck in your throat. You’re pulsing, soaked and dumb and warm all over — every inch of your body begging for Luke. “I said; Understood?” 

“Yes— yes.” 

Luke secures his hand beneath your thigh, lifting the other so that your legs wrap around his waist. You don’t think about your wet high heels, how your feet are going to be sore, or your torn underwear. All you can focus on is the head of Luke’s cock pressing against you before slowly, slowly burying himself inside fully. 

“Oh my god,” You moan in relief. He fills you so well, stretches you so perfectly. Your hands grab at his shoulders, grounding yourself, and once Luke is buried to the hilt, his fingers thread through your hair. Arching your neck, claiming your lips and swallowing your soft moans as his hips rock tauntingly. 

You don’t mean to, but your heels dig slightly into the small of Luke’s back. He hisses against your mouth, kissing you harder, tongue pushing between your lips as his hips withdraw only to rut back against you full-force. 

Luke pulls away from the bruising kiss. “This is what you wanted, huh?” He asks, fucking his hips up at an honestly astonishing pace. It’s perfect, so so fucking perfect that your brain has been reduced to absolute mush. “All that talk just to end up braindead for a bit of cock, huh? You’re so easy for it, Y/N.”

Your nails dig into his skin. Pussy clenching around him, stuttering his hips as he refrains from letting go, fucking you with every amount of energy he can muster. One of your legs slip from his waist, making you positively cry out from the new angle. Luke doesn’t stop. 

If anything, he fucks you harder. Using his hold on your hair to pull you down onto his cock, grip on your hip to push you up. Using you like a rag doll to get himself off. Your whines and pleas bounce off of the glass doors, a symphony in Luke’s ears. 

You feel it again. The warmth. The twisting, fire igniting in your stomach. You’re absolutely drenching his cock with every pulse, every throb of your pussy wrapped so perfectly around him. Like a glove. Luke releases your hair in favor of grabbing hold of your throat, fingers just barely squeezing the sides. 

“I know you’re fighting it,” He says, breath fanning across your jaw. “You wanna cum all over my cock, don’t you baby? God, I’d love it. Feeling your sweet cunt tighten around me, milking me,” You almost don’t register his words, fighting so so damn hard to keep yourself from finishing. 

Luke’s a man of his word. If you cum, he’ll stop. And you’ll be forced to sit on the tiled floor and watch him get off alone. He won’t reward you by cumming on your chest or in your mouth, you won’t be that lucky. You can’t let that happen. 

“Don’t be a bad girl, baby. Hold off for me. Let me cum inside and I’ll take good care of you, yeah?” He squeezes the sides of your throat three times. I. Love. You. A crack in his dominant demeanor, letting you know you’re okay, he’s got you. “That’s it, relax for me, angel. M’so close.”

The next minute is pure agony. It’s harder than you thought, when one simple brush of Luke’s stomach could barely reach your clit and have your stomach fluttering. A simple blow of breath could send you falling to your knees right now, nevermind the quick, deep thrusts of Luke’s hips chasing his orgasm. “Fuck, baby. God, feel so good on my cock. Doin’ so good. Gonna fill that pretty pussy.”

“Daddy.”

You don’t know why you say it. It comes out broken and pathetic and rasped, desperate as you claw at Luke’s shoulders while he buries himself fully, breaths broken alongside moans and chest heaving as he releases inside of you. 

Luke’s hand slowly lets go of your neck, trailing down between the valley of your breasts, over your stomach and ghosting his fingertips over your clit. “Don’t move,” He says between puffs of air. He reaches behind, unhooking the smaller showerhead and your eyes widen. Oh fuck. 

Eyes dark, chest flushed and cock still hard and buried fully inside, Luke fumbles with the controls of the showerhead until the water comes out in one heavy, single stream. “Gonna sit and warm daddy’s cock, yeah? While I make you feel good?”

“Jesus, fuck,” You shiver as Luke runs the pulsing stream along your thigh, teasing, and a long, drawn out whimper escapes you when he aims it towards your clit. “Fucking— Luke!”

“Oh come on, baby, you can say it,” Luke’s voice trembles slightly, likely some of the pulsing water affecting him too. Your thighs tremble, heel digging against Luke’s back as your hips arch off of the tiled wall. “Tell daddy how good it feels, baby. You’re fucking shaking. Fuck, you feel good.”

“So— fuck— so fucking good, daddy,” You hum brokenly. The combination of Luke’s cock buried sweetly inside you, cunt full of your boyfriend’s release, and the absurd pressure of the water is enough to tilt you over the edge with a full body shiver. Goosebumps and whines and teeth biting so harshly into your lower lip you taste blood. “Fuck.”

“That’s it,” Luke soothes, watching as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. You look utterly beautiful, chest covered in a thin sheen of sweat, skin flushed. “Such a good girl. Fucking hell.”

The force of your orgasm floods Luke’s cock, cum leaking down your thighs. Luke’s hips stutter, like he’s restraining himself. He pulls away the showerhead, letting it clatter to the floor before caging you in, one arm on the wall above your head, the other attached to your left breast. 

“You’re beautiful,” He says, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Your cunt is fucking throbbing for me, angel.”

“Luke,” You whine, pathetically. Overstimulated, oversensitive. “Please.”

“Please what, baby? Want me to clean you up, huh?” He asks. “Bet you taste so sweet, full of my cum.”

Luke doesn’t give you the time to answer, instead pulling himself out of you, your legs quivering but he slides down to his knees and braces his forearm against your stomach. Your hands fly to his curls, a lifeline at this point, as Luke hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and doesn’t waste a second licking a stripe across your heat

Full, slick and warm, both of your releases coating the insides of your thighs. Luke dives in like he hasn’t a second to lose, nose brushing against your clit, eyes fluttering closed as he laps every last remnant of your time spent together. You tremble beneath his touch. 

When Luke reels back, staring up at you with hooded eyes, the love swarming in your chest is absolute insanity. The things you would do for this man. He’s utterly perfect. 

And you may not walk tomorrow. 

Carefully, Luke returns to his full height, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You alright, angel?”

“Mhm,” You hum, cheeks pink and chest rising and falling quickly. “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” He says, reaching to shut off the water. The constant rivulets dwindle to mere trickles in an instant. “I’m not done with you.”

“What?” You breathe out.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, only fair I get to do the same,” Luke grins crookedly, soft lips slick and bruised. “I wanna get you in front of that mirror in our room. Want you to watch when I fill that pretty cunt up again.”

Scratch that. 

You absolutely will not be walking tomorrow. 

[rangerbarbz]

Serving Up Romance pt. 2

Author’s Note: Alright, y’all were eating up the first part of this. (THANK YOU SO MUCH BTW) I am so grateful for all the kind words you’ve given me about my writing. It truly makes me so happy and I enjoy writing for y’all thoroughly. I hope you enjoy this second part! 

You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was time for your date with Stan, and you were more than just a little nervous. It had been so long since you had been on a date, you weren’t even sure if you knew what to do on one. Do you hold his hand? Do you kiss him? Things were different when you were at the diner. That was your safe space, and you felt more confident there. Now, it was just going to be you and him alone in a car. At night. Watching a movie. Oh, God. 

You sighed and straightened out the fabric of your second-hand dress, removing any wrinkles that were there before. “I hope he likes it,” you mumbled, running your hands through your hair. This was the first time he was going to see you out of your uniform. You sat on the edge of your bed to slip on the sandals you had dug out of your closet. He was going to be here soon. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. You sprung up from the bed to put on some perfume. “I’m coming!” you called out, dousing yourself in a vanilla scent you couldn’t remember the name of. You set the perfume bottle down on your nightstand and ran to the door. 

“You got this,” you whispered to yourself, turning the door knob to reveal your date standing on your welcome mat. He was facing the road but turned around when the door opened. He was wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans, and scuffed up leather boots. His mullet was nicely styled, and he had trimmed his stubble. He flashed you a toothy smile. 

“Wow, you look foxy!” Stan complimented you, raking his eyes over you. You grinned and gave him a twirl to show off how flowy your skirt was. “Oh, I got you these by the way.” He held out a red, heart-shaped box to you. “I heard that girls like chocolates, so I wanted to surprise you with some.”

You giggled. “This girl definitely does,” you said, placing the box on the armchair of your couch. “Thank you so much.” You tilted your head at him, feeling your smile wouldn’t leave your face the entire evening. “You look so handsome, Stan Pines.” You hooked your arm around his. “I’m one lucky gal.” 

Stan laughed and you noticed a blush forming on his cheeks. “Ah, well, shucks. Thanks, toots.” He looked over at you. “But I think I’m the lucky one here. You ready to go?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

On the car ride to the drive-in theater, Stan told you about a visitor that he described as a “total nutcase.” You always enjoyed hearing him tell stories because he told every story in a way that made you feel like you were seeing the events play out right in front of your eyes. He was captivating; it was no wonder he was such a successful showman. You were so engrossed in his retelling that you didn’t notice how his arm was behind the headrest of your seat. It was such a small romantic gesture, but it made butterflies grow in your stomach all the same

You finally arrived at the entrance of the drive-in movie theater; Stan rolled down his window to pay the man at the ticket booth. “Alright, sir, park wherever you like, and turn your radio to channel 95.1. Enjoy the movie!” 

“Thanks,” Stan replied before driving into the lot. He leaned against his steering wheel, searching for a parking spot. “Damn, there’s a lot more people here than I expected.” He looked over at you with a frown. “I’m sorry, doll. I think we’ll just have to park the Diablo here. I can’t get around anyone. Is this okay?” He was hoping he hadn’t ruined the date. 

You gave him a reassuring smile. “This is okay. I promise.”

He nodded. “Alright, so that joker said 95.1.” He began fiddling with the knob of his radio to switch stations. “Bingo,” he said after he finally got it tuned correctly. “Now, this is a horror movie, so if you need to, ya know, jump into my arms if it gets too scary, I’ll be ready to catch ya.” 

You burst out laughing. “Same goes to you, Pines. I know how skittish you can be.”

Stan scoffed in response. “Please, I’m the least skittish person on the planet.” 

“THE FRIGHTENING OF OAK AVENUE WILL BEGIN NOW,” the radio blared. Stan jumped out of his skin, letting the expletives fly.

You smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, that doesn’t count,” he grumbled.

“That’s okay,” you scooted closer to him. “It doesn’t bother me that you’re such a scaredy cat.” Stan shook his head and wrapped his arm over your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. Oh my goodness. His arm is around you, and he smells really good. Try not to let him see how excited you are.

“Okay, that’s enough sass-mouthing, miss,” he joked. “The movie’s starting.” You giggled as your attention was brought to the screen. To be honest, you could give two shits about this movie. You couldn’t stop thinking about how comforting it was to have his arm around you. 

You didn’t know how far you were into the movie when you saw Stan out of the corner of your eye gazing at you instead of the film. You turned your head towards him, and his eyes quickly reverted back to the screen. You felt your face get warm as you continued watching the movie, but you had failed to suppress a small chuckle. 

“What?” Stan asked gruffly. 

“Nothing,” you replied coyly, leaning your head against his chest. You heard his breath hitch in his throat. “You just make me feel pretty.”

You couldn’t see his face which Stan was grateful for because he was looking like a deer in headlights. You could feel how fast his heart was beating. “You are pretty,” he responded, voice barely above a whisper. “Told ya that the first day I met you. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

You straightened up so you could face him when you said this. “Stan, I…I have seen a lot of people walk through those diner doors.” Your nerves were starting to get the best of you. “But I have never had anyone come into that restaurant that made me feel the way you do.” You looked down and began to run your fingertips over the hem of your dress. “I just want to know if you feel the same.” 

“I-I do, Y/N,” Stan replied, stopping your hand from fidgeting by lacing his fingers through yours. “Felt that since the beginning.” He sighed. “Y/N, I know I’m not the type of guy you bring home to your parents, but… If you give me the chance, I know I can be a man you’re proud to be with.” You felt like you were about to cry.

“Oh, Stan.” You cup his face in your hands. His sad, brown eyes gazed into yours; he leaned into your touch as you caressed his cheek. “If you’ll have me, I’ll scream from the top of city hall that I’m dating Stan Pines.” 

He gave you a lopsided smile before kissing the palm of your hand; his hand was gently holding your wrist. Is this real? His face was inching towards yours. “I’m holding you to that.” His hands were now cradling your jaw, bringing your lips to his. They were soft and sure against yours; your eyelids fluttered shut as you accepted his embrace. You placed your hands on his chest and snaked them around his neck, his dark hair falling onto your fingers. His lips were gone too soon as he interrupted the kiss to look at you. His eyes darted over your face, making sure you were still here and okay. It seemed like everything he touched lately disappeared before his eyes. 

He began to shake his head in disbelief. “God, you’re gorgeous.” His lips then crashed back into yours, drinking you in. He loved the way your mouth felt. He then moaned so quietly that you barely heard it yourself, but you did. You smiled against him, fingers tugging at his hair; you licked his bottom lip wanting to taste him on your tongue. His lips then parted letting you explore further. 

Stan whined at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his. His hands moving to the back of your neck and the small of your back to get you as close to him as possible. When you broke free of the kiss, his lips began to travel down your jawline and your neck. He was insatiable; he needed to discover every part of you with his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you breathed when he got to your collarbone. “Don’t stop.” His strong hand grasped at your waist; he now knew you were just as affected by this as he was. He started to suck a bruise into the dip at the crook of your neck. You cried out, desperately grabbing at his shoulder blades. 

When Stan was satisfied with the mark he left, he gave it a soft kiss. His eyes met yours once again. His lips were slightly swollen and shiny from the lip gloss you had applied earlier today. His cheeks were flushed from the intensity of the passionate moment you had shared. He then smiled and leaned in to speak against your lips. “So, what do you think about ditching this movie and heading back to your place?” 

You closed the almost non-existent gap by biting his bottom lip and dragging it through your teeth. Stan let out a sinful groan at the contact before you let him go. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

PART 3 DROPPING SOON  

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1956 Cadillac Series 62 Convertible

Black Exterior New Black and White Leather Interior New Black Canvas Convertible Top New Black Carpets Upholstery work completed April 2019 365 CI OHV V8 w/ 4 Speed Hydra-Matic Transmission Equipped with Eldorado Trim Factory Gold Grille Power Windows Power Steering Power Brakes Power Top White Soft Boot Cover Detailed Undercarriage New Stainless Steel Exhaust New Shocks New Fuel Lines Freshly Rebuilt Carb New Gas Tank Fresh Brake Service with new wheel cylinders New Chrome Wire Wheels and Coker Radial White Wall Tires in style of original bias plys GM Heritage Factory Build Sheet verifying original Black car with Gold Grille option

[bellswlw]

modern!ellie williams headcanons

i’ve literally been SITTING on these since april so… i might make a pt 2 who knows but i need to get something out. also cw for fem presenting reader, kindaaaa smut mentions but no full scenes. i think that’s all enjoy<33

ellie definitely talks in her sleep. most of the time is basically incoherent slurring, but sometimes if you get lucky enough to wake up to it, you can hear her having full blown conversations, hand gestures and all. “here. take it, here.” she says, her voice coated thickly with a rasp and her hand held out in front of her. she’s pretending to hold something in her hand, shaking it when whoever doesn’t take what she’s offering. you clasp a hand over your mouth to stop the laugher from bubbling over. but she catches you then, her hand immediately forming into a straight point and saying, “don’t laugh.” and your eyes widen in shock only for ellie to slouch against the mattress with a small huff. she’s fallen asleep again.

i like to imagine ellie cutting off her skinny jeans into shorts in the summer. like taking her knife and just fucking cutting them clean off while she’s still wearing them. and after she’s done she finally looks up at you asking, “they even?” and you have to laugh because… no. her right pant leg was significantly shorter than the left, resulting in her having to slowly, bit by bit trim off more fabric until she had accidentally went from wearing shorts that fell below her knee to ones that rode up the middle of her thigh. she scoffed, trying to tug at the phantom fabric “shit, they’re too short,” and she adjusted them on her, trying to get comfortable in her new clothes and waiting for a response. she looks up at you, and you can’t even draw your eyes away from her thighs. you’d never ever seen ellie i’m something like this, so it was a treat for you. eventually you speak, “i like ’em” and ellie smirks at you before taking a step closer, whispering under her breath, “course you do.”

ellie would do anything for you. including, going with you to your nail appointments and getting her nails done to match yours. although, she kept hers short, with a clear base and small black flames curling under the top coat. she sits patient and quietly for you to be done, watching you scrunch your nose at her and saying “can you itch, please?” and you’d tip your head toward her before a gentle finger swiped away the small tingle. driving home after lunch, she would grip the steering wheel lightly, her fingers still slightly spread apart not being used to the feeling of polish. “you sure it’s dry? it feels heavy.” and she looks over at you before you ask for her hand to check. “ellie, it’s been two hours. i think you’re good.” and you ran the pad of your finger over each finger, she was set. (let’s also not forget how her cheeks flush as she slips her thumb into your mouth and seeing the design disappear and send a flood of wetness straight through her when you release it with a moan)

ellie kissing your thighs before going down on you. that’s it. it’s canon i know it.

she also definitelyyy would have absolutely no self control seeing how good your ass looks in your best jeans, watching as you’re doing something super domestic like loading the dishwasher or switching the laundry… or even simply bending over to grab something you dropped before she slides a finger under the thin strap of your thong and snaps it against your skin. you’d straighten up immediately, letting a gasp fill your lungs before your mouth falls in a hard line. and of course she’d look away, pretending she didn’t do anything with a smirk glued to her face.

i totally headcanon ellie having a red iphone. and she definitely doesn't have a case on it but yet still gets upset every time she drops it and a new crack chips away at her screen somehow dodging her camera

oh and she is a fucking nerd when it comes to comic-con, like in the best way possible. you tag along with her as she walks from booth to booth, nearly dragging you behind her with a single hand. like she wears a lanyard (not around her neck, but strung through one of her jean loops beside her karabiner with her car keys) and everything, collecting new pins with nearly every stop. you stand silent beside her as she talks to someone on the other side of the booth, seeing her grinning from ear to ear when she finds out that one of her favorite characters has an entire spin off series. she turns to look at you for a moment like she couldn’t believe it, and you smile at her before she scrambles to look up the series title on her phone. and as much as it might not be your thing, you just cant deny you don’t get some enjoyment out of it when you see how happy she is when the two of you are finally back in the car. “that, was fucking awesome.” and she sighs in her seat before asking you what you want to eat.

if she’s sitting next to you and not really paying that much attention, your hand will squeeze lovingly on her thigh and it makes her jolt a little, her eyes finding yours to see your smirking at the sudden twitch of her leg. “jeez, be gentle yeah?” and then she’s focusing her attention back to what was before, trying not to think about how later on she’d be wanting to feel the back of yours against hers when she’s drilling her strap into you ass up.

she’s always going “oh yeah?” or “that so, huh?” always egging you on, trying to find your eyes when you look away and feel the heat flood your skin. such a casual dominance about it. wanting to challenge her and be put back in your place with a simple question… one you can’t even answer without lying.

ellie loves tv girl and deftones like… don’t tell me she doesn’t bc your a liar and a fraud— give me money. she loves them. end of story.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Church Crush. // Fetus!Alex Turner X Reader. (SMUT)

prompt: Psalm 119:131: I open my mouth and pant, longing for your commands. / Where you notice how he looks at you and behaves in your presence, during church sessions and you decide to bring his dreams to life (in the church parking lot too). He's a sub! Here.

words: 3,7K

session/setting: I'm following a prompt based on parts of the Bible (blasphemy), and I'm using this post: link, if you're interested you can choose one and suggest an idea! (Maybe we have about him as a priest)

Your eyes landed on his figure, sitting a few chairs behind you. His hair fell softly over his forehead, and if you weren’t so observant, you might not have noticed the heart-shaped outline of his hairline. But you had, thanks to all those classes together. He was illuminated by the light from the main room, his eyes a lazy, lovely caramel. So solemn, and you liked to imagine that sometimes they were watching you too. You fiddled with your cuticles impatiently, noting his nails, perfectly trimmed down to the quick, as he rubbed his well-shaped, sculpted nose, picking at his slightly flushed skin. You couldn’t help but picture them in other scenarios; adding meaning to such generous fingers. Without realizing it, he was mesmerized by the slight smirk on your face, only to quickly turn away to avoid the intensity of your gaze. That feeling was new. He couldn’t tell if you liked how his body reacted to you or if it made you uncomfortable, exchanging glances like that in such a place. After all, shouldn’t he be paying attention to the church’s service?

“We’re done for today, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice of the finely dressed man filled the room, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t heard a word he’d said since you arrived, you were busy. And thanks to Turner, every one of your Sundays had become like this—a vain attempt to surrender your body and soul to something that was supposed to be sacred. Still, there was a purifying aura about the way Turner’s curious gaze rested on you. Not that you thought he saw you as someone pristine, but because, clearly, he saw you. He saw you as someone worthy of that affection. Turner had become the reason you kept coming back. You counted the days for moments like this. The distinctive, colorful marble of that sanctuary wouldn’t be the same without him. You wouldn’t even think of returning otherwise.

He tried to ignore you, avoiding glances or any chance of crossing paths. He gathered up his backpack, frantically organizing himself to leave as quickly as possible. Yes, he was awkward—in a genuine, innocent way. Maybe he was still new to this, inexperienced, and clearly flustered. But based on how he acted in class, those assumptions seemed accurate. He briefly adjusted his hair, clearly uncomfortable in his too-small blue polo shirt that clung to his sweet fragile frame. His eyes were on you, even though his body language denied it. You smiled at him, boldly, leaving him even more flushed and disoriented.

When he opened his car door, he threw himself onto the seat, letting the backpack strap catch awkwardly, making him look like a ‘ninja turtle’ as his body contorted. He sat down; he was a mess. He reopened the door, discreetly, making sure he looked ridiculous in your eyes. Given the circumstances, he wondered if he should think of you as someone he'd marry someday, but that wouldn’t be fair to himself, not with how he idealized you every single time he saw or thought of you. His mind was far from pure, though he wished you well and admired your independence. However, his ideals about you weren’t exactly built on divine foundations.

Trying to recompose himself, he grabbed the steering wheel, resting his forehead against it. His breath caught in his lungs, knowing just how wrong he was for feeling this way and that he would be punished for it. Still, he pressed his thighs together, body and soul present, though not for any greater good—except, perhaps, for the thought that you might be his ‘greater good’ if you wanted to be. He was getting tight in his pants, just from seeing you. His throat burned from the effort of trying to forget it all—forget his obsession with you, even though he made it all too easy to dwell on it.

Yet, he couldn’t let go. His mind was stubborn. He wanted to see you, to feel your eyes on him, to hear what your voice sounded like, no matter how wrong it felt. It was inevitable that he would spend all week waiting for Sunday, just so he could see you again—admiring the way you dismissed people who criticized your looks or how relaxed you seemed, unconcerned with the judgment of others. And, of course, how you smiled at him after catching him looking at you.

Alex did his best to avoid you in the halls during the week. You still had the same confident essence and leather jacket, but he didn’t want to disrupt your popularity or how adored you were with his primitive presence. It was such a small town.

“Hey, youuu!” A deep, feminine voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Startled, he first thought the sound had come from outside, but when the door slammed and his eyes confirmed a familiar figure inside, right next to him, his entire body froze.

“You can’t be ‘ere,” he stammered in a pathetic whisper, earning a mischievous smile from your lips. His accent was stronger than ever, hurting his throat. It felt wrong, yet like a dream.

Up close, you wore a crucifix around your neck, dangling like a hypnotic watch, and your hair cascaded perfectly over your shoulders. Your eyes gleamed and stayed locked on him, leaving him unsure of where to look. You were invading his space. His hands, damp with sweat, shot down to his jeans in a nervous attempt to seem more composed in your eyes.

As usual, you seemed indifferent to the situation, as if this was entirely normal and you’d known each other for years. Your long fingers smoothed his dark hair behind his ear, drifting down to adjust his collar so his collarbones could be more pronounced, more visible to your praises. Your eye makeup was strikingly out of place for the setting—perhaps that was one of the small details that had captivated him since the moment he first saw you. The sharp, dark line framing your perfectly defined gaze made you all the more mesmerizing. A few droplets of sweat from the heat of the day clung to your cheekbones, and he silently cursed himself for wanting to lick them away; being responsible for keeping you clean. In a way, he wanted to let a single tear escape in front of you, not knowing whether that was a good or bad thing.

“Are you listenin' to me, Bambi eyes?” Your hand now rested on your thigh, your skirt clinging tighter and riding up slightly as you leaned forward in front of him. The crucifix floating, as well as your collarbone and breast in the tank top beneath the leather. He was dreaming—his mind had been in this exact place before.

“Alex,” he managed to say, he couldn't tell if his heart was beating. A small, plausible chance to let you know his name. He couldn't miss that.

You laughed, an amused, sweet sound that felt like a spell cast over him. “I know you, Bambi,” your hand slid up towards his leg, climbing up his thigh as your smile widened at how excited he was so early, pausing over the stiffness of his belt. He thought you were cute, he was getting so sure of that. His cheeks were flushed, his stomach restless above your touch, he was a good boy; definitely not as pure as the seconds passed with you.

“You do?” His voice came out choked, the words stuck as he tried to catch his breath. You were inside his head, crushing him into pieces, and he was utterly lost in you.

You nodded, reaching up and squeezing a part of his lower belly that had never been touched by anyone else before. He was warm and silently prayed that you would have him. On a choked sigh, in an involuntary act, he spread his legs as you got your fingertips over the prominent part of his jeans, making you play gladly with the buckle of his belt. “I do, or do you think I don’t see you looking at me? Giving me those poor Bambi eyes as you study me from top to bottom, rubbing your soft legs together in an attempt to clear your impure thoughts.” Your gentle touch reached his skin, soft and reassuring. You unbuckled the belt with a satisfying click, slowly sliding it around his waist, each breath he exhaled filled with relief as you granted him the sense of freedom. “I know everything about you, Turner” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’ve done my research.”

“Did you look me up?” he asked softly, even though he knew it wouldn’t be difficult to learn anything about him, given that the town was as small as a speck. His mouth went dry, feeling your nails grazing the damp fabric clinging to the swollen skin on his white underpants.

He knew he was blushing, embarrassed by it (by himself), but you were happy, your lip between your teeth with an inviting look, revealing him hard and accumulated at the tip. You clicked your tongue, looking into his dark eyes, and already knowing the answer, you didn't hesitate to run your hand over his length, feeling him generously as his head went back in a sigh.

The doors were open, he could leave, the most exciting thing about it was that he didn't care about being corrupted by your actions.

As a quiet hum was being taken from him, you pressed your fingers harder into the spot. “So do you like my touch, Turner?” You ran your fingertips gently, running them through all his hardness, so tenderly. “Your so wet, babe. Did you get like this when you were in there thinkin’ ‘bout me while failing to pay attention on the world ‘round you?” Your hands cupped his flesh, making him dodge while closing his eyes. “When should you be listening to the Lord's words? Huh?”

Even if it was slow, even if you lingered, Alex didn’t mind. He wanted it to last as long as possible, as long as you were there with him.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, not knowing where to put his hands or how to act in front of you. He hated the fact that he was so quiet, making you think he wasn't enjoying it; even though his body wasn't capable of lying. “I just — I just don’t know what to do,”

“I know you don’t, babe. I know you don’t. Never ever been touched for someone else, right? Sounds like a good boy for me, a fuckin’ perfect boy for you parents, a english class winner, a saint in the eyes of the neighborhood, and a devotee of our little sanctuary. What’d they say if they saw you now? About to get lost in whimpers for me in a church parking lot, huh? Bein’ mine instead,” your sinful words brought shivers down his spine. And as he could imagine, you had done your homework. You had already noticed him beyond the church. Your compliment with words, taking away all his speech, made him open his eyes briefly, sulking his hips in your hand. You did that for him, and without knowing how to explain it, Alex found you angelic; a pure angel in disguise. “Tell me, Turner?” You kept moving, not increasing the pace, assigning to the ache between his legs (in your cares); yet firm enough as he needed. “How can you be good? Fantasizin’ ‘bout me like that? Or when you walk past me bumping into my shoulders on purpose so I can notice you devouring me with your eyes when I come close to you every Sunday, babe? You’re not a good boy at all, see? You only came ‘ere for me.” You had an indescribable effect on Alex. You were right, he had never felt this way with anyone before, you were the first and for him you would be the only one to take him out of that bubble of chastity.

How could it be fair that you talked to him like that? How was it possible that his conscience understood that as wrong but still his body was begging to be taken by you?

He thrust his hip pathetically into your palm, “I need more,” he said in a whimpering mess, just like you described. “Please, I’ll be good, just tell me what to do,” He rested his palm on your wrist, not disturbing your work, just rubbing loving circles in longing.

“I don’t want you to do a thing, pumpkin,” For never having done it that way, it was clear how sensitive he was. Your hand ached, but you continued, intoxicated by the pained expression on his face as you were guided by every sound and drop sliding down his forehead. He was beautiful. His mouth fell open in a silent sob, making his attempt to speak your name come out in clipped syllables. You were being good for him, he wanted to learn how to do the same for you.

As he had never been to that place, he was surprised to feel no pain but pleading relief enveloping his body as your fingers slithered easily into his excessive juices. His stomach was feeling funny. But he was ethereal, he felt like he was in a good place, or getting there as he had heard the well-dressed man say minutes ago. “I just wanna make you feel good, hear your beautiful sinful sounds just for me.”

As he dipped his head on the seat, you bit on your lips, hard enough to feel the metallic taste mix with your saliva. You were the reason for his erotic dreams since he had first seen you, so that was such a daydream for him as well as for you. Your hands, controlled, came out of his swollen length to the tip, and then closed around him tightly, giving you the advantage of seeing his face twitch with pleasure knowing that only you had provided this to him. Keeping the same pace–so he could spend more time in supplication, giving you a privileged view that you would save in your brain to watch every night before bed–you began to massage his angry and read tip with your thumb, feeling his body heating up as his hip go to meet with your fist, fucking himself into you.

He had realized that he was hasty alone, and that it was difficult to hold himself back with you. He would wet the fabric of his underwear more easily, which gave your delicate hand better performance. He wouldn't know how to use your dexterity, he would need you to keep from getting hurt.

“Please,” you breathed.

“Please what, Turner?”

"I need it, I need you, I need to be good for you, just want to—" He was cut off as you pulled away from him, sitting up. With tense fingers, sore from burning holes in the seat, he tried to hold back, not wanting to sound too loud.

“You’re being good to me babe. You were fuckin’ my hand so well, fuckin’ dripping on me, I’m just gonna need to hear you, pumpkin. C’mon, don’t hold back, we‘re far from everyone you can show me how naughty you are, right? Be loud for me,” you said, your raspy voice made him dizzy as you took off his shirt in a quick, clumsy act. He didn't even try to process the lack, he was completely intoxicated by you.

You lost control of your words, your fingers tracing along his waist as you placed them on his chest. He smiled softly, his lips moist and curved to the side, as usual. You liked his body, smooth and delicately sculpted; you enjoyed how wrong it felt yet couldn’t help but be guided by it. You caressed his collarbone, memorizing every groove along the way. Leaning closer to his seat, feeling his eyes on you, you kissed him. It was subtle, in contrast to everything that had come before, warm yet tender. He tasted the metallic taste, needing more. He took a moment to respond, but as he became more aware, he yielded and entwined his tongue with yours. Sweet and messy, just as you had expected, you laughed, making him blush even more.

A thin line of saliva formed as you pulled away, and he wondered if it made you wet, since he felt painfully stiff with everything you did. All he could do was stare, as if you were going to run away and be nothing more than a dream.

Without another word, you made yourself comfortable in the seat. He could see your thighs better. He took a deep sigh, letting a groan escape as your breath grew heavy with your warmth lingering on him. As soon as you moved your hair away from your face, Alex understood and held it back to give you better access and provide himself with a clearer view.

Your pink painted lips wrapped around his swollen head, sucking just a little until you lifted your head to the tip only to fail to take him completely all at once. You laughed, excited by that, and sighed with a drool running down the edges of your lips, "You're such a good size." And you could gaze at his red skin.

Understandable, yet painfully throbbing, he ran his fingers over your ear, examining the metallic earrings and caressing your velvety cheek. You were beautiful. Alex loved watching you pay attention in class, but he never thought he would be able to witness this. Your swollen lips were connected to him, your wet tongue making him squirm, and you were skilled at it. Your hand was firm at the base of him, where you couldn't reach without having your eyes water and your throat hurt, even though you let yourself do it on purpose, to please him and feel a little pain for being so unruly. But mostly, you focused on sucking him in comfort, closing your eyes, loving the taste and texture, until you could move your face up until you no longer had him in your mouth just so you could do it all over again.

He stroked your hair so gently, you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. "You're so beautiful." He whispered between full-bodied moans. It was deafening, it made you give even more of yourself to have his taste in your mouth. And little by little, his legs began to tremble and his hands pulled your locks hard enough to have them loose between his fingers, but it felt so good. He groaned your name, as if in a will, relieving himself in your throat with more whimpers. It was so adorable. He was weak, such a mess.

His sweet caramel eyes watched you tiredly as you swallowed the hot liquid. It dripped down your chin a little and his stomach had stained with it too, but you didn't hesitate to wipe it away with your tongue and sweet kisses. His breathing was weak, he didn't know what to say, but thank goodness he could look at you. You gave more wet kisses to his sensitive skin, ignoring his fingers trying to push you away. And from the view Alex had through the blurry windows, he could still see some people leaving the church; you had certainly been there too long. You sucked on his spot again, licking where a bit more juice was coming out and he could see your angelic gaze at him, as if you transferred all your sins to him and he was no longer pure. He wiped the tears from your face, knowing he had them too, and drove your head up, feeling too sensitive to take it anymore.

His muscles were relaxed, though tension started to build in his head. He fumbled with his own belt and the shirt bunched up around his waist, awkwardly trying to hide his softened body. You laughed, and he understood that it wasn’t because of his clumsiness, but because you simply enjoyed seeing him like that—flushed, unsure of his next move. "Thank you," he said. Your eyebrows raised. This time, you both laughed together. You stripped him of all his social skills.

Your fingers whitened as they gripped the hem of your skirt, your eyes never leaving him, yet they roamed across his entire frame. Alex felt guilty, embarrassed. "Did that make you wet?" The question sounded like real doubt amid his weak intonation.

"Don’t you think you’re good, Al?" You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into the seat as you leaned toward him, your lips brushing his cheek. Hearing you call him that made him wonder if you’d speak to him like this when you saw him in class or around his friends. He wanted you to. As usual, he couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he simply waited for your commands and approval.

Your forehead rested against his, your attention solely on him, your breaths mingling in quiet comfort. He signed the notice, captivated by your delicate fingers brushing against the skin of his arm, taking his hands in your and guiding them beneath your skirt. His calloused tips touched the thin fabric of your panties, surprised, heart racing at how damp you were. You pulled the elastic away, lightly touching your spot as you contemplated the act. Alex had never heard anything so beautiful. Looking for more of the sound, he repeated what he saw, your head falling back onto the seat, looking at him pleadingly and tiredly, and he imagined that you had been like that since the beginning too (even though it could be a lie and he just wanted to feed his own ego). He pressed harder, not sure how to continue, and proposed to kneel in front of you, no matter how drastic that might be. He needed all of it, every drop. But your warm voice interrupted him before, "Turner, you need to park somewhere else, I don't want to be interrupted.” You had certainly been there for a long time, no one but you needed to know how you were poisoning each other in such a place.

...

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[thespnreferencedesk]

A Fic Writer's Guide to the 1967 Impala

Part 1 | Part 2: Interior

Click for the full-size, annotated versions of images! Unlabeled screenshots here; full user manual available here

Due to the number of different Impalas used for the show, Baby will have some minor differences between appearances. This guide points out a few of them. Luckily, these differences are minor and will likely never come up in any written works but fan-artists should still keep an eye out.

Now, buckle up. There's a lot to cover.

Baby’s interior color is SEM Color Coat #15093 “Lt Buckskin.” In real life, this color was not an option on the 1967 Impala and was achieved by spraying the existing interior vinyl with vinyl dye. However, 5.22 shows that this is the Impala’s original interior in the show’s universe, so Dean would have only had to use the vinyl dye to touch up during one of his rebuilds. In addition to the buckskin vinyl, Baby also has black bench seats, tan carpeting, chrome trim, and black accents on the wheel and dash.

Baby doesn’t have grab handles or a center dome light, though it does have two rectangular cabin lights over the backseat windows, each next to a hook. Whether or not these interior lights work depends in the episode. The headliner has horizontal stitching that breaks it up into six panels. Sam and Dean rarely use the sun visors, but we do see in 11.04 that they are mirrorless and can swivel up and down and pivot to shade the side windows.

Both the front and back seats are black vinyl (not leather) bench seats with no center consoles. The front bench is manually adjustable via a lever on the driver's side. The seat can slide forward and backward (seen in 10.12) and recline (seen in 1.01). Adjusting the front seat moves the entire bench, including the passenger.

Fun fact: One of the options available for the 1967 Impala was power operated front seats, something I didn't even have on my '07 Hyundai. Power windows were also available, but Baby has neither of these features.

Both the front and back benches are wide if not a bit short length-wise (note that Dean’s hips are basically the same width as the seat). A child could easily lay down completely, a small adult like Claire or Charlie would be a bit curled up, and Sam and Dean can lay out with their knees bent. It is also possible to crawl over the front seat into the backseat or pull someone from the front into the back as we see in 10.04. That said, the cabin roof is not very high (just barely clearing Sam’s head) so expect to hit your head on the roof while in someone’s lap or flailing around in a fight.

Despite seating up to six, there appear to only be four total seat belts. The Impala has adjustable lap belts in the front and back seat rather than modern three-point seatbelts, but Sam and Dean don’t wear them.

The lap belts consist of two parts, a belt with a buckle that sits in the middle of the front seat and a belt with an “eye” piece that retracts into a retractor on the side of the front seat bench. To fasten the seat belts, pull the eye belt all the way out of the retractor before clicking it into the buckle. Adjust the belt by pulling on the excess strap to tighten it, and lift on the buckle then pull the other section of the strap to loosen it. Unfasten the seat belt by pressing the button on top of the buckle.

Up front, Baby has a steering wheel, a black instrument cluster, chrome ignition and other switches, an ashtray, chrome mirror, aftermarket tape deck, Four Seasons factory air conditioner, glove box, adjustable air vents, and padded dashboard (to smack your head on since there are no airbags).

Two different types of door lock buttons are used in the cars on the show. The first are shaped like golf tees while the second are straight anti-theft locks. The anti-theft locks don't have a cap that allows the door to be unlocked with a coat hanger or something similar. Push down on the button to lock the doors and pull up to unlock.

All four doors have a vinyl armrest with a chrome door lever, but the front seat rests do not have ashtrays. There are two different window cranks. The smaller one on top controls the small triangular front window that swivels side to side while the larger one on bottom rolls the main window up and down. Clockwise is up, counter-clockwise is down. Sometimes the knobs on the cranks are buckskin and sometimes they are black which would have been the original color.

In the driver's footwell is a long rectangular gas pedal, short rectangular brake pedal, square parking brake pedal, and labeled parking release lever. The switch for the high beams is on the floor near the driver's right foot and is controlled by tapping. There are also tan rubber floor mats that vary in style but appear in 11.04 as two individual mats with diagonal grooves.

The glove box comes with a lock, and the key for this is separate from the key that opens the door and starts the ignition. When not locked, the glove box can be opened by pressing the button built into the lock cylinder.

Baby's steering wheel is stock with an aftermarket vinyl wrap cover. The correct center horn button for the Impala has a chrome outer ring, gold center ring, and silver inner circle with the Impala logo. Sometimes, such as in 11.04, it’s shown with a Caprice horn.

While the '67 Impala was available as a manual, Baby is an automatic (so no "shifting gears"). Its gear shift/PRNDL is mounted onto the right side of the steering column rather than in the center of the footwell. The indicator (reading "Park RNDL") is mounted at the base of the steering column, below the instrument cluster. To shift from Park to Drive, push down on the brakes then pull the shift lever towards you and pull it down three notches. Press down on the brakes then pull towards you and push up to go from Drive to Neutral (one notch), Reverse (two notches), and back to Park (three notches). To shift from Drive to Low, pull the lever towards you again and pull it down one notch.

For anyone who has not driven a car with a shift lever like this, I can only describe it as feeling alarmingly similar to an old-school lawn mower. Whenever Dean is made to drive another car, he might instinctively reach behind the wheel for the gearshift and find it's not there. Someone used to cars with a center console gear shift might do the same while driving Baby, just reaching for the space below the radio instead.

Also on the steering column are a hazard lights button below the gearshift and a turning signal lever on the left. To turn on the flashing hazard lights, push in the button and pull it back out to turn them off. Lift the turn signal lever to signal right and lower it for the left. Using light pressure causes the blinker to turn off and return to neutral when you release it. Pushing the lever all the way into one position or the other leaves the turn signal on until you turn the wheel back to neutral or manually move the lever.

On either side of the steering column, below the instrument cluster, are four knobs. From left to right, these are for the lights, wipers and washer fluid, the ignition, and a cigarette lighter.

All of the lights on the Impala are controlled by a single light switch knob (below, left). This knob has three different positions: pushed in, pulled out to the first click, and pulled all the way out to the third click. When the knob is pushed in, all lights in the car are off. Pulling the knob out to the first click turns on the parking lights. Pulling all the way out to the second click turns on the low beam (your "normal" brightness). While the knob is pulled out to either the first or second click, turn the knob to adjust the instrument and tail lights for driving in the dark.

The windshield wipers knob is to the right of the light switch. To turn on the wipers, twist the knob clockwise. The first notch is "low" and all the way to the right is "high." Press the knob once to dispense a measured amount of washer fluid or hold it down to keep dispensing until you let go. Pressing the washer button simultaneously turns the knob, so you'll need to turn the wipers back off after.

The ignition key switch is just to the right of the steering column. Once it's inserted, turn the key to the left while pushing in to turn on just the accessories like lights and the radio. To start the car, push down the brake pedal and turn it all the way to the right. As soon as the engine starts up, let go of the key. You don't need to have your foot on the brakes to start the engine. Once it's running, you can press the gas pedal to help prime the carburetor with an additional shot of fuel. Don't pump the gas pedal or you risk flooding the engine.

People born after 2000 might be unfamiliar with how to use a car's lighter. The knob is part of a removable piece, about two inches long. First, push the button in and hold it to heat it. After a few seconds, pull the whole piece out. Yes, it can easily get lost. Touch whatever you wish to burn to the glowing orange heating element inside the cylinder. The removable piece is what gets hot, not the plug. This is also where you plug in things like car chargers or Sam's iPod jack.

A recessed instrument cluster sits behind the wheel. The panel consists of three main displays with the left and right sides each having two smaller displays. From left to right, the three main displays are the fuel gauge, the speedometer, and an analog clock.

The fuel gauge does not default back to "E" when the engine is off and instead may land randomly somewhere on the dial. The speedometer has a listed top speed of 120 and also features the high beam indicator light as well as the mileage. The analog clock is set by pulling out the knob at the bottom of the clock, turning to set the correct time, and pushing the knob back in.

Of the smaller displays, the upper two are the left and right turn signal lights. The bottom left are the brake system warning light and the engine temperature light. The brake warning light lights up red when the parking brake is applied or while the brake pedal is pressed if there is low brake pressure. The engine temperature light comes on if the engine overheats. On the bottom right are the oil pressure light and the generator indicator light. The oil light comes on if the oil pressure is low, and the generator light comes on if there is an issue with the generating system. All four of these lights come on when starting the car, but should quickly go back out.

The air conditioning and vents are where a few more discrepancies between screen-used cars show up. The 1967 Impala came with several different heat and air options: nothing, a heater only, an optional AC unit mounted under the dash, a Four Seasons air conditioning system, or a fancy climate-controlled option.

Baby has the Four Seasons system, but many of the cars used for filming were not. Only the Impalas with the Four Seasons or the climate control came with the center dashboard vent and the circular air vents near the doors. For visual continuity on the show, production added fake vents to non-AC cars. What gives these cars away as being non-AC cars, however, is that these cars have kick panel air vents and two mounted silver knobs that control them. As a Four Seasons car, Baby should not have these vents or knobs but ultimately does on occasion.

The center dash vent is able to be adjusted up and down by the ridged wheels on the sides. The spherical vents are a ball style and can be turned to position them or spun like a globe to change the style of the vent opening (see below). Two leg vents are hidden underneath the dash and can be opened or closed by turning the outlet like a dial. So if Dean wanted cold air blown on his legs but not on his face while Sam wanted cold air on his legs but not his face, both brothers could open or close their own vents.

The vertical switch on the left of the AC control panel controls the fan. Up is low, the middle is medium, and down is high. There is no way to turn it off unless the entire system is off. To turn the entire system off, push the topmost horizontal lever all the way to the left. Turning this lever to "Vent" blows outside air without changing the temperature. Moving to "Cold" blows cold recirculated air, moving further right blows cooled outside air, warmer outside air, and then full heat.

The outlets lever controls airflow to the vents mentioned previously. Moving the lever to "Upper" sends air through the dash vents only, moving to "Lower" sends air to the hidden leg vents only, and setting it in between sends air through both.

To use the defrost to clear up foggy windows, make sure the outlets lever is set to "Lower" or somewhere in the middle then move the bottommost lever towards "De-Ice" until it's blowing as hard as you want. To really crank the defrost or for ice, set the outlets to "Lower" only then blast the fan and push the temperature all the way to "Hot."

Dean's tape deck is an Audiovox Rampage AV 2000 from the 1990s. The '67 Impala came standard with either an AM or AM/FM transistor radio. The AM had a rear adjustable antenna, but the fixed AM/FM antenna was on the front. Looking at Baby, we can gather that it originally had the AM/FM radio. To switch between AM and FM, you would slide the switch at the top of the radio. The push buttons could be used to set favorite stations. Note that Dean's tape deck does not have this feature, so he would have to memorize his favorite stations in certain regions or just search until he finds something.

The original radio was switched out at some point for the Audiovox, either by John or Dean. The knob on the left turns it on and controls the volume, and the knob on the left is tuning. The button on the top left switches between AM/FM, the button on the top right lets you switch between local and longer-distance stations, and the bottom button is both the eject and fast-forward Press in part-way to fast forward and all the way to eject. There is no rewind button. To rewind, flip the tape over, fast forward, then flip it back around.

Fun fact: The shot in 11.04 of Dean putting in the tape is re-used from 5.22, so both “Night Moves” and “Rock of Ages” are on Dean’s Kick It In The Ass mixtape.

Two aftermarket Hertz speakers are mounted in the rear package tray (though a different speaker can be seen in 4.06). Underneath the tray’s black carpet is where Sam and Dean carved their initials as children. The rear footwell is nearly flush with the rear bench, meaning there is no “underneath the backseat”. There is room, however, underneath the front bench for things to get lost. The rear footwell also has a tan rubber floor mat, and the one seen in 11.04 is one single piece rather than two.

Unlike the ones in the front seat, the rear door armrests each have a lidded ashtray. The rear doors each have a door lock button and a main window crank like the front seat doors. There are no air vents in the backseat, so the AC would need to be cranked to reach anyone back there, potentially freezing anyone up front in the process.

Some of the most important things inside of the Impala are the little personal touches it's accumulated over the years. There's the tape deck, of course, but also the initials carved into the package tray, the Lego bricks in the air vent, and Sam's plastic rifleman wedged in the ashtray. These elements are first seen in 5.22 where Chuck mentions that Dean puts them back every time he's had to rebuild the Impala. Seeing the army man through the window in 5.22 is also what allows Sam to take control of his body back from Lucifer, so both brothers are well aware that Baby's supposed "defects" actually make her even better.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All Ye Faithful

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, lactation, PPD mentions, cheating, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You are on the hunt for the perfect present but the price is steeper than you expect.

Character: Loki

Day Twenty-Six of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - there's only one of these left and i need it more than you.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Is he okay?” You ask as your fingers squeeze around the grooves of the steering wheel. 

“He’s fine,” Ellie almost laughs over the babbling, “aren’t you, Lil Griffy?” 

She cooes as your heart patters wildly. You’re stress level is at your ears. Your head almost hurts from the tension wound through you; or maybe it’s that you keep squinting to see the road beneath the cones cast by the street lights.  

You hate waiting until the last minute, but despite your best effort, it’s come down to the wire. This is your last chance to make Christmas perfect. 

The morning was a whirlwind. Your son, Griffin, shrieking as you tried to feed him breakfast, the email buried beneath all the dozens of Black Friday and holiday promotions. The order you placed over a month ago was canceled the week after. You don’t know how you missed it but you did. Now you have to figure this out. 

“I won’t be long. If he starts freaking out, you can give him some baby advil for his teeth. He’s been cutting some--” 

“Hey, I got it, mama,” your sister insists. “Enjoy the time to yourself. Please. I'm sure tomorrow is going to be a lot.” 

“Right,” you agree dully. “I’ll call you when I'm on the way back.” 

You hang up with the flick of your thumb, the button depressing beneath and the music coming back to life from the stereo. Something about the beat addles you further.

This isn’t how you imagined your baby’s first Christmas. While you also envisioned a little extra help from your fiance, you didn’t intend to be driving around to meet strangers to purchase gifts like some underworld arms’ deal. 

Ellie recommended the marketplace app. She got a bunch of stuff for her wedding there and she even bartered some designer pieces along the way. She’s always been better at everything. It’s probably why your son wasn’t freaking out for the first time in days. 

Your GPS tells you to turn left and concludes the trip, noting that your destination is on your right. The storefront glows but the ‘Open’ sign is out. Much like the rest of the shops in the area. If you had any other choice, you would take it over this hand-off. 

You pull into the lot and put your car in park. You scoop your phone out of the cup holder and open up the app. You send a message to the seller that you’ve arrived. You restlessly jiggle your foot over the pedal and stare at the snow-laden curbs and salt-streaked brick. 

You flutter your fingers over the wheel and your chest furls into a cluster of nerves. What if it’s a scam? What if they don’t show up? Typical that the one big gift you had your heart set on is the one thing you can’t get a hold of. 

A car pulls up next to yours and your phone buzzes. That must be them. You glance over at the dark silhouette behind the tinted window. Your family-friendly car is not cheap by any means but the luxury vehicle suggests an income you can only aspire to. 

You get out and shove your hand into your pocket, checking for the envelope of cash. You hesitate as you once more glance over at the other car. It’s too expensive to be a criminal, right? Or maybe you just walked straight into a mugging. 

Their door opens as you hover behind your trunk, uncertain of how far to go. A sleek, dark-haired man steps out. He’s tall and his black locks are tidy and combed back behind his nape. He wears a well-cut suit beneath a fur-trimmed collar. You didn’t bother to change out of your flour-dusted hoodie and jeans. 

You bite your lower lip and swallow your fear. 

“Uh, hi, you’re uh...” you blink and try to remember his name. He says your first. 

“I’ve got the toy,” he declares plainly. 

“Oh, great, er... can I see it?” You ask. Essie says always see it first before you hand over the payment. She even gave you a tip to barter down by offering a pick-up. It seemed safer than giving a stranger your address anyhow. 

“If you insist,” he strides forward, his posture straight, somewhat condescending just in the slant of his chin. You back up as he passes and circles around to open his trunk. You inch towards him and peek inside. “For your inspection.” 

He waves his hand indifferently and you examine the packaging for the sensory set. You’ve been watching videos and reading all these Montessori articles about it. You just want the best for Griffon. 

You nod and face him. He slides his phone from his pocket and clucks. You take out the brown bank envelope. “I have the money. Thanks for meeting me--” 

“Hm, I’ve got an offer for two hundred more,” he turns his screen to you. “And they can meet me here as well.” 

“What?” You gasp. “But I'm here.” You wag the envelope at him. “I need this. Please.” 

“Very well you might but--” 

“I can get two hundred more,” you beg, heart rending at yet another expense. “There’s an ATM close by. I’ll go take it out.” 

“I suppose, if you are quicker than the other buyer,” he drones. 

You frown. He doesn’t care. This is all just extortion to him. He doesn’t look like the type to need a baby toy. Essie did say there are a lot of resellers on the app. Wow, that’s just despicable. Still, you came all this way, you’re not willing to just give up. 

“Or...” he interrupts your inner turmoil. You flinch and look at him as his eyes flick up and down. “If you are especially desperate, I might accept a different currency.” 

You arch your brows, “uh, yeah, I got cashapp or venmo--” 

“I’m not referring to money,” he intones. 

The cold air turns bitter with silence. You stand staring at him, confused, as he watches you in turn; unflinching. The dimple in his cheek confirms your suspicions. He can’t mean that. No, not that. Look at you, you’re an underslept, overworked mother in a nursing bra and stained jeans. 

“Excuse me?” You utter. 

“It seems a bargain we might both benefit from. For my trouble, I could use something more than numbers in my account, and you, an obviously neglected housewife, might pretend it is that tending you so desire.” 

“Huh? That’s-- that’s... gross,” you wilt. 

“And yet you’ve not slapped me or walked away, so I dare say you are considering it,” he smirks. “And certainly, you are here to ensure you precious child has their perfect holiday. I would surmise it is their first--” 

“Please, don’t-- don’t talk about my son,” you plead and clutch the envelope, looking down at your shaking hands. 

“I’d rather not. Bit of a mood killer, honestly,” he snickers. “So?” 

You chew your lip, letting it flick out from under your teeth. Your eyes well and burn. You can’t believe you’re even thinking about it. You just want that one day. You just want one victory after messing up every other thing. 

You nod and lift your chin, only halfway as you can barely look at that man; a stranger. You hold out the envelope. He takes it, his fingers brushing yours, and he tucks it into his pocket. 

“You may wait for me,” he gestures to his car, “I’ll let the other seller know the item is no longer available.” 

His glee is clear in his tone. You’re sick to your stomach. You drag your feet away from him and go around the other side of the car. 

“In the back, darling, it’ll be easier.” 

You stop and face the car. Does he want... everything? Or just a hand... or... 

You open the door and sit on the edge of the seat. As you shut the door, you lean on it and hang your head. You’re more than terrified of what you’ve just agreed to. You’re terrified of yourself.

Are you so low as to go through with this? What if Brodie finds out? It’s cheating, technically. No, in all ways. 

The other door opens and lets in a wintry gale that adds to the iciness in your veins. Your throat tightens around a wave of nausea. The man sighs as he closes the door and settles in with a wiggle of his shoulders. He might be awful but you’re worse for going along with it. For what? A toy. 

No, this is for Christmas. It’s for your son. You just want him to be happy. You don’t need your husband telling you how you fucked up another thing. 

“Take the sweater off. Whatever that is... it’s not very intriguing,” he points to the stain on your hoodie. It could be chocolate from baking or something inedible. 

You wince and clasp the fabric in your fists. Slowly you strip away the hoodie. You have only your nursing bra beneath; grey and plain, the thin fabric wet as you leak through. You shudder and hunch your shoulders. Your swollen tits bulge over the flimsy cups as you try to hide the stretch marks on your stomach with you bundled hoodies. 

“Mm, yes, delightful,” he purrs and surprises you as his fingers reach to the strap of your bra. 

You squeak as he easily tugs free the cup and peels it away, exposing your raw nipple. You don’t have time to react as he leans in and bows to take the pert bud between his lips. You cry out in shock as he suckles and you watch his dark head helplessly. 

His hand comes up to grope the other side of your chest. You moan in response to the heaviness in his grasp. You’re sickened as he is entirely unbothered at the trickle of milk that rolls from the corner of his mouth, yet a twinge deep down scalds you with shame. Your own fiance won’t touch you because of the way you leak; or maybe it’s rest of your; the loose skin and the stretch marks... 

He groans as he rolls your nipple between his teeth and you cry out at the tenderness. He continues to fondle you as his saliva mingles with your milk. You are repulsed but cozened by his diligence. 

Your eyes wander around the luxurious interior of the car, a wall of tears blurring your reality, before you find your way back to him. He doesn’t seem the type. Too wealthy and refined, yet here he is feeling you up in the back of his car. You repress another heave of disgust. 

“Supple,” he pulls back and opens the other side of your bra, your tits hanging free. “Yes, yes, I know,” he continues the one-sided conversation as you sit mute and dump, tingling from his touch, “we both have places to be.” 

He sits back and pushes open his jacket. He shrugs free of the wool and lets the coat open across the seat behind him. He swiftly unbuckles his belt and opens his fly. You watch without reaction. Your body won’t respond to your horror. 

“Come,” he reaches into his briefs as he lifts himself slightly off the seat, pushing both pants and undergarments down as he pulls his dick free. He strokes himself as he reclines again. “You’ve had a child, you should know how these things work.” 

You exhale shakily. You reach for him as he continues to pump himself and he swats you away meanly. 

“I’ve not the time for all that, get in my lap.” 

His blunt demand puts you further off-balance. You move without thinking. This needs to be over. You have a son to get home to. 

And a fiance. 

You turn and stand up, bent over in the tight space, and push down your jeans to your ankles. He might see your unshaven legs or the rest of you and change his mind still. You’d almost rather that humiliation than the guilt of what you’ve resigned yourself to. 

He doesn’t stop you. He only hums as you move awkwardly to kneel on the seat and lift your knee over him to straddle his lap. You grasp his shoulder first then recoil as if burnt. You brace the seat instead as you set your legs, your ankles kept awkwardly together by the tangle of denim. 

He frames your hips with his large hand and you wince again. It’s so strange to be touched in that way. Not to be tugged and teethed at, or have someone screaming or crying in your ear at the same time. 

He pushes you down as he guides his tip along your lips. You quiver at the reminder of what you haven’t felt in so long. At those needs you pushed so far down you convinced yourself they just weren’t there anymore. 

He eases into you as you let your hips drop. You gasp at the sensation. It’s snug and warm and... he said you were ruined. That one-time you tried and Brodie stopped you. Never mind, he said. And you saw the reddit post he left open the next day; ‘my wife ruined by childbirth. What can I do?’ 

Ugh, don’t think about that. 

Another moan rolls from your throat as you hang your head back. You sink down onto the stranger’s lap and he fills you up easily. You claw the seats as his other hand squeezes your chest again. He pulls you closer as he guides your hips in a slow motion. 

The crawl of his own low, sultry voice singes away all your doubts and damnation. You lose yourself in the carnal melding of your bodies. You are not a mother or a fiancee or anything but needy. Your grip slips from the leather and onto his shoulders. 

He bends to once more nip and suck at your chest. He keeps you moving as he rocks from below. He doesn’t let up as he buries his face in your cleavage. His large hand splays across your back and he squeezes your hip tighter and tighter. 

The fire roars inside of you, trapping you both as you chase that final spark. You buck against him desperately and his nose brushes up to your collar bone. He bites into your shoulder and drones as he hooks his hand down around your ass. 

You quake in a noiseless orgasm, choked of your voice as your muscles contract in ecstasy and relief. You only realise then how much you needed this. How much you longed for that release. How long you just wanted to be needed for more than a feeding or rocking or changing. 

He bursts inside of you in a warm deluge. You gasp as sense slaps you across the face. What are you doing? He’s not protected. You aren’t either. Why didn’t you even think of that?

He curls his arms around you and presses his hand against your shoulder as he ruts up into you until the last drop. You push on his arms but he doesn’t relent. Not until he’s weak and trembling. 

He lets you go, arms falling slack to his sides, and he sighs. He snickers as his lips curl and you sit back to look him in the face. His green eyes sparkle in triumph. 

“What did you do?” You drag yourself off of him and angle awkwardly as you cover your cunt with your hand. 

He tuts, “don’t make a mess.” 

“Me--” You retort. “I...” You lean your knees on the seat as you try to scrap his cum off of you, wiping it on your hoodie. “You--” 

“And it isn’t what I’ve done, you should worry for, darling,” he taunts. “Ask yourself that very question.” 

You look at him and hiss. You don’t have any defense. Because he’s right. Because you did this. For a goddamn toy.  

His eyes drift down to your chest and he winks. “They payment was adequate. You make have your prize.”