#stop expecting the drivers to choose sides when they know NOTHING

[tuxedomax]

people saying the drivers should speak out against sexual harassment when no one knows (including other teams and their team principals) the whole story or what actually happened is absolutely the most wild take i've seen on this site so far

[she-walks-on-starlight]

You Ruined Me (Do it Again)

a/n: the smut has arrived! Enjoy ;) - ✨

Warnings: smoking, possessive!sevika, SMUT: slight public sex, choking kink, biting, fingering, oral sex, strap-on sucking, strap-on referred to as cock, strap riding, spit kink, praise kink, light muscle kink, ab riding, sexually explicit teasing.

Summary: Your first night out in a while after leaving your cheating ex does not end how you expected it to...but then what did you expect, going to her club?

Word Count: 2.2k

18+ | MEN AND MINORS DNI | 18+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

The journey to Sevika’s place was a short one, but she didn’t waste a single second. The taxi driver mercifully kept his eyes on the road despite the filthy display occurring in his backseat. No doubt Sevika’s reputation preceded her, and he wanted to keep his teeth.

It was like no time had passed. You were melting in Sevika’s hands, her lips on your neck as she marked you again and again. Her hand was now shamelessly in your panties, her fingers toying with your slick folds and her thumb rubbing gentle circles over your clit which was burning with pleasure. Sevika knew what she was doing, applying just enough pressure to make you feel good but not enough to make you come. She had a lot of plans for you, and coming early was not gonna ruin them.

“Your pussy’s so wet for me, princess…”

You gasped as she pressed harder on your clit. “I…I missed you, Sev…”

You’re interrupted by the taxi stopping at Sevika’s apartment. You hurriedly tumble out as Sevika pays him and tips him generously. You shriek and giggle as she picks you up like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the door, and letting you in. She doesn’t let you down, choosing instead to grip your thighs, lifting your dress higher and grinding into your pussy with her own. Your eyes roll back at the contact.

Sevika laughs huskily. “God, look how wet you are, princess…”

You blush, hiding your face in her neck and kissing her there. “It’s your fault.”

Sevika grinds into you again. “Damn right, princess.”

She carried you to the bedroom, throwing you roughly on the bed, dragging you to the edge. She eyes your body ravenously and you know exactly what’s running through her head.

“Wait, Sev, this dress was ex-”

You speak too little too late, as she tears the dress at the side, ripping it off you and leaving you in your black, lacy underwear. You huff petulantly at her but Sevika only grins in response, pleased to be able to see you.

“I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”

You’re about to retort when she starts to kiss you again, overloading your senses as her body hovers above yours. Her hand drifts to your cunt and starts to stroke your clit again, while her mouth wanders elsewhere. She’s all tongue and teeth, she’s been starved of you for too long. She tastes you reverently, her tongue tracing your hardened, perky nipples, her teeth biting into them gently at first before she abandons her restraint and bites harder. She repeats the process, lower and lower, until your body is littered with red and purple marks, reminders of where she’s been, where she intends to visit again. She breathes in when she reaches your pussy, you’ve always been intoxicating to her. She parts your folds, and licks one firm stripe from your entrance to your slit. Your moan is nothing short of greedy, trying to urge your cunt closer to her face, desperate for her tongue.

“Sev…please…I need you.”

She flicks her tongue against your clit, teasing you until your whimpering and begging has reached a crescendo. She grips your thighs, keeping them wide and you know you’re in for the fuck of your life. She is aggressive and forceful, her tongue roughly pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves again and again with no reprieve, occasionally lowering herself to probe at your entrance and fill it with her tongue, tasting the nectar building there.

You were a mess, falling apart under her. Nothing else existed, just you and Sevika and the feeling reckless pleasure rushing through you. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer, after all the teasing in the car you could feel your release rising in your lower belly.

“Sev…I’m gonna come…please let me…”

Her response was more rewarding than you could have ever hoped. She increased her speed, and the pressure. You screamed, threading your fingers into her hair and bucking into her mouth as you came. She lapped up every single drop, she wouldn’t waste anything you gave her ever again. Crawling on top of you, she kissed you fiercely and you responded with equal vigour, tasting your salty sweetness in her mouth.

Her eyes darkened as you took one of her hands, relishing in the sturdy weight of it in your palm, and placed it against your throat, making sure to swallow hard so she could feel it. A low growl rumbled through her whole body, adding to the throb of your aching cunt.

“You’re playing with fire, princess.”

You placed your hand on top of hers, encouraging her fingers to squeeze. “So, burn me with it already.”

That was all the encouragement she needed. In one swift moment, her hand clamped tightly around your throat, while two thick fingers pushed into your folds, curling immediately to draw out a load moan from you. Still reeling from your last orgasm, and the powerful feeling of relinquishing control to Sevika by allowing her to choke you, it wasn’t long until you were chasing your second high, your eyes rolling back while she relentlessly thrust her fingers into you, kissing and biting every inch of skin she could reach.

“Fuck, y/n, you feel so fucking good around my fingers…”

You moan loudly, you know she wants to hear you. “You always stretch me out so good, Sev…”

“I’m gonna make you cum til you see stars, princess. Just you wait.”

She made good on her promise, your second orgasm ripping through you like a freight train leaving you a twitching mess on the bed. Sevika gently withdrew her fingers, and you automatically knew what to do. Opening your mouth, Sevika watched, enraptured, as you sucked your juices off her fingers.

“God, I fucking love watching you do that, princess.”

She lets you come down from your high, your chest heaving as you try to breathe normally again, feeling thoroughly fucked out. She relieves herself of her clothes, and you take the moment to admire her. She flexes her muscles, knowing you’re watching. You see her fiddling with something in her boxers, and your cunt starts to throb in anticipation.

“Is that what I think it is, Sev?”

She looks at you, eyes glinting mischievously. “That depends. You want it, princess?”

You say nothing, you just stand on albeit wobbly legs before kneeling down, and stick out your tongue, waiting obediently.

Sevika grips your jaw. “Fuck, look at you, princess. Let me help you get lubed up, angel.”

She spits in your mouth, which you eagerly swallow, opening your mouth and widening your doe eyes to beg for another. Sevika growls, her own cunt now throbbing as she spits down your throat and you thank her.

She released the strap-on she’d been packing, adjusting it so the base rubs against her swollen clit. The strap is thick, a deep purple colour. You recognised it well; you bought it for her birthday one year. The harness was a comfortable boxer-style so it didn’t cut into her muscled thighs, and it meant she could pack whenever she felt like it without being too obvious. The worn leather armchair in Sevika’s room creaked in complaint as she dropped into it unceremoniously, straightening her cock and beckoning you forward. You crawled towards her, parting her knees so you could neatly slot yourself between them before licking a long stripe from the base of the cock to the tip.

You were a well-trained girl, this was easy. This wasn’t your first rodeo, and you knew exactly what Sevika would want. Taking the entire shaft into your throat, you made sure to noisily gag around it even though you weren’t really choking.

Sevika was utterly entranced by you. “Yeah, that’s it, princess. Take that cock down your throat like a good girl.”

You complied, taking it all the way to the base, nudging your nose against Sevika’s mound. Your motions pushed the base against her clit, and her large hand taking a fistful of your hair just spurred you on. You started to suck, eagerly, your head bobbing up and down, taking as much as you could each time you descended. Sevika’s moans and grunts filled the small room, music to your ears.

“Fuck me, princess, you’re gonna make me come just doing that.”

You removed your mouth from her cock with a satisfying pop! and smirked at her, standing up and arching your body, her eyes watching your every move.

“Can’t have that, can we?”

Growling, Sevika surged forward, her muscled arms trapping you and dragging you onto her lap. You angled your hips forward, avoid the strap and grinding your cunt on her abs instead. Trailing your tongue up her neck, you groaned in pleasure as the muscle flexed under your touch. You removed yourself from her neck and focused on rolling your hips. Her abs were as glorious as ever, toned to perfection and hard as rock. Like her neck, they tensed as you pressed yourself into them, teasingly at first. Then unyielding hands were pushing down on your hips, and there was no escape. Moans and whispers left your lips with abandon as Sevika’s well defined abs tickled your clit deliciously, bringing you to the brink.

Sevika grunted out a laugh. “God, you have such a muscle kink, y/n.”

You laughed with her breathily. “Can you blame me…look at you…”

You felt the tip of the strap near your entrance, Sevika’s eyes heavy with lust but always asking, always considerate. You gripped the strap underneath you and angled it towards your leaking cunt, ravenous for Sevika’s cock to fill you. As you start to swallow the strap, your pussy hungrily drawing it in, you feel Sevika’s arms wrapping around you, bringing you closer for a heated kiss.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll be gentle…”

You dig your nails into her shoulders, raking them over her back, invoking a shudder and a carnal groan from Sevika. You sunk down more, taking her cock until she was hilted inside you.

Your voice, cracking from your screams of bliss, comes out in a whisper as you start to ride her. “Don’t you dare.”

It’s been so long since Sevika’s been inside you, but your pussy takes her cock like it’s what you were born for. You speed up your pace, riding Sevika roughly as she grips the arms of the chair, a determined look creeping onto her face. Your own face flushes with delight, you know what’s coming. In a swift motion, she’s reversed your positions, now you’re in the chair, your knees pushed back as she starts to pound roughly into your cunt.

She hasn’t lost her skills, the way she fucks you open, pushing your knees open so she can go deeper with each thrust. She wasn’t wrong, you’re certain you’re seeing stars each time the strap pushes into and kisses your cervix. Her face is filled with concentration, trickles of sweat rolling from her hairline down her face, down her neck. You’ve seen a more beautiful sight, and you urge her to fuck you harder, faster.

“Oh, fuck…keep going Sev…fuck me into this chair!”

“You always take my cock so good, princess…your pretty little pussy swallows it all…might have to get a bigger one for you next time…”

You know Sevika’s close herself, her iron clutch on your hips is bordering on painful and her bucking thrusts are becoming wilder, more frantic. You’re loving every second of it.

“C’mere Sev, kiss me…bite me…”

Sevika leans down, attacking you with a bruising animalistic kiss that has you both gasping for air. As you recover, she nips your bottom lip hard, drawing blood. Her eyes widen for a moment, until you lick the blood away and moan loudly in her ear.

“Fuck, princess, that was so hot…”

You’re so close now, heat roiling in your belly and your cunt clenching tightly around Sevika’s cock. She’s nearly there too, her breaths ragged and her legs beginning to shudder. You drag your nails down her back, scratching deep and hard. She has one hand at your throat, angling your face away and exposing your neck. The other hand is pressing into your clit, rubbing in frenzied motions, sending your orgasm hurtling to the edge. All it takes is for her to bite in your neck with brutal force, and you’re squirting all over her cock, your pussy giving her everything it can. The sight of you creaming all over her strap sends Sevika over the edge, roaring and thrusting into you one final time as she comes, soaking her boxers, her grip on you unwavering as her orgasm courses through her. Seconds pass, minutes too as the two of you breathe through your highs, still connected and holding onto each other like lifelines.

You whine when Sevika pulls out of you, your cum still dripping down your thighs. You feel fucked dumb, barely registering Sevika leaving to use the bathroom and returning with a warm, damp washcloth. She’s gentle, cleaning you up and dressing you in a pair of her boxers and an old shirt that smells like her woody cologne and cigarettes. She guides you into a comfortable position in the bed, climbing in herself and wrapping herself around you. She’s only wearing a clean pair of boxers, heat pleasantly radiating from her arms and chest and seeping into your skin. She kisses you softly in the space behind your earlobe and your eyes flutter closed.

The last things you hear before being lulled into sleep is Sevika murmuring into your ear. “I love you, my sweet princess. I never stopped, and I never will. You’re mine, and I promise I’m yours.”

Taglist:

@ion-news

[bananasomg]

Hi! Lestappen and #7 for the ficlet thingy you reblogged if you feel so inclined :)

hii!! tysm for sending me an ask for this fun ficlet post!! 🫶🏼

i love writing short scenes that pack a punch, and for all of these, i'm going with whatever initial spark comes to mind based on prompt and pairing. (:

THAT SAID—

#7. Lestappen: things you said while we were driving is below the cut. it's angsty and emotional and i hope you like it. ❤️

things you said while we were driving

Charles mutes the radio before tipping the seaside valet, Max’s mother and sister waving from the promenade as they pull away. He gives them a tight-lipped smile, not the crinkly-dimpled one Max is used to. 

He fucking hates it. The biting indifference.

Max watches Charles' grip tighten on the wheel, knuckles pale as he steers his Ferrari onto the street. The noon sun tangles in his hair, making it look even lighter from the passenger seat.

There’s a tremble in Charles’ arms that can’t be mistaken for track reverb. He’s not decked in red, helmet on, fighting understeer. He's wearing Max's favorite sweater and his signature baggy jeans. His rings glint in the light and he smells like bergamot, not sweat and just hours ago Max had kissed him over the console.

Now it’s quiet, and Charles can’t even look at him. A far cry from earlier when balmy air rushed through the cabin and the speakers came alive—Charles, body dancing to the beat, his giggly breath mixing with a guitar solo. Warmth that settled between their intertwined fingers. 

“Max, I—” Charles starts and stops abruptly. The vowels sound all wrong, a new air of finality that rings alarm bells in his head.

“Wait, please—” Max tries. He reaches for Charles’ thigh, an anchor to tell him that this tension isn’t immutable, but Charles blocks him by downshifting into second gear. Max can’t help the empty rattle in his lungs. 

Sorry I didn’t tell them I was scared Sorry I didn’t correct them I wasn’t ready I know we talked about it but when the time came I felt like I was going to die Sorry but I love you I love you I love you I love you.

Max begs his thoughts to break the silence, but his tongue won’t budge, lips refusing to form the shapes he needs to reassure Charles that he’s still in this. Still who he wants. Still the person he would choose day in and day out, no matter the consequences. No matter who knows.

Charles takes a deep breath. “No more. I can’t keep doing this.”

Max’s chest shudders, heart processing the words before his mind can catch up. His hand slips from Charles, fingers dangling in the cupholder. The rubber is still wet from the iced coffee Max had bought him for the drive this morning.

“This?” he asks, voice cracking. 

Max watches Charles’ throat bob, the downturned corners of his mouth, but he keeps his eyes on the road, hands at ten and two, face blank. He looks older. Tired. Like he isn’t sure if this is right anymore, and there’s a certain sinking pit in Max’s stomach that feels an awful lot like an ending. 

“Pretending like we’re nothing more than friends.” Charles sighs, bites his bottom lip. “It’s worse than not having you.”

Max barely notices the sound torn from his throat, but Charles must because his shoulder stiffen, and his breath falters. He blows hot air through his teeth, snapping his head to look out the driver’s side window, eyes peeled on the boring Monaco harbor they’ve passed many times over. He can’t bring himself to look at Max, as if what he is about to say will hurt him more. As if after this, they won’t be able to salvage it. 

“It feels like you’re ashamed to be with me.”

“I am not ashamed.” 

“Then why am I still your racing mate?”

“You’re not—” 

“But I am, Max!” 

Charles slams his palm on the wheel, and Max gasps at the sudden movement, the sharp anger in his jaw. He remains still for another minute before finally turning to face him. Max expects to see fury burning in his gaze, but what he sees is even worse— visceral anguish that cools into hard indifference. There’s no softness in his expression, no room for forgiveness.  

“We celebrated six months last week, and you still couldn’t tell them the truth.” 

“I will! I’ll call them right now.” Max grasps for anything to turn the tide. 

The way Charles scoffs, throws his head back like he just said the most unbelievable thing, slashes at his core. It hurts more than a physical blow. At least he knows how to recover from that. 

“No need. There’s nothing to tell them.” 

Charles slows to a crawl in front of Max’s flat. His eyes don’t linger on his mouth or scan the alley for a place to park. He shoots him the same media smile he gave his family—no sign of the tender moments or intimate touches they’ve exchanged. 

“See you on track, Max,” Charles says. 

It’s so final, his goodbye deliberate, leaving no room for contest. 

It’s one thing Max has always admired about him—when he puts his mind to something, he makes it happen, never backing down or swaying from his decision. But Max never planned for Charles to push him into the opponent’s court. To leave his body, weak and aching at the severance.

Max wishes he was driving. He’d yank the car into reverse, speed back to the restaurant and do it all over. This time he’d say, You remember Charles, of course. He’s my boyfriend. But it doesn’t work like that. 

He stands on the sidewalk, empty and bleeding, his only company the bitter realization that every chance to prove his love has slipped through his fingertips, leaving him with nothing but a hollow void. Max wants to call for him, beg him to come back, but he knows he can’t win a battle he’s already lost. Instead, he turns and walks inside as Charles drives away.

[bhujerban]

Open Seat, Open Road (intro)

AN: Long time no see, friends 💕 I haven't written anything in a hot minute, so I wanted to do something fun to get back into it. My partner and I have been taking a ton of road trips lately, and so I was inspired to write a little Choose-Your-Own-Adventure road trip adventure! There isn't a choice in this introduction, but we'll get there in the next update.

“The annual budget was leaked before they could do damage control,” Zelda announces as she strides into the garage. “I thought maybe one of his cabinet members had been having an affair or something.”

“That’s why they booked you a first-class ticket back to Castletown?” Link’s voice is slightly muffled as he slides out from under his car.

“Yep,” Zelda tosses him the morning newspaper, ignoring his soft exhale as it hits him. “Urgent, apparently, because they booked my return early tomorrow morning.”

Link scans the newspaper. “Front page news.”

Zelda tugs a hair tie off her wrist with more force than strictly necessary. “I don’t know why I expected anything different. This is just my father’s standard operating procedure.”

Link doesn’t respond, but his eyes flit up from the newspaper to meet hers.

“I expect that he’ll send me to a children’s hospital or maybe a food bank,” she continues bitterly. “The place will be full up with photographers, of course, and I won’t be allowed to actually lift a finger to help with anything.” She pulls her hair back, but hisses as the hair tie snaps under the forceful stretch. She tosses the broken hair tie to the side. “But given the backlash, I think they’re setting up a scandalous date for me as we speak.”

Link’s fingers tighten nearly imperceptibly on the newspaper as he stands up from the creeper.

Zelda manages to use another hair tie to put her hair up and lays down on the creeper. As she slides beneath the car, she asks, “What’s wrong with it now?”

“Nothing, I think.” She hears his footsteps move away and then back. “I was just checking on the skid plate. I thought I heard a sound the other day when I was driving along the Dragon’s Exile trail.”

Zelda fishes her small flashlight from her pocket and looks. “You’re fine.” She tugs at the zip-tie she’d used to reattach the skid plate after the screws were lost. “I secured it myself.”

Link is squatting near the back of the car when she slides back out. He gives her a small, crooked smile. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, Zel.”

She can’t help but return the smile, but her response is laced with frustration. “You’d be the only one that doesn’t.”

He pulls her up from the creeper and wheels it back to its spot under his work bench. “It doesn’t really seem fair to you…this whole thing.”

“It is what it is. It’s just Governor Rhoam’s way: province and politics over people.”

“Even his daughter?” Link asks with a raised brow.

“Especially his daughter.”

Zelda watches quietly as Link moves around the car. There’s a cargo box already attached to the roof rack and he is tossing things into the trunk carelessly: his sleeping pad, his sleeping bag, the nice tent she gifted him for his birthday last year.

“When do you leave again?” she asks.

“Tomorrow morning. I’m trying to get out at first light so that I can get to the Palu trading post by noon. I want to spend the afternoon hiking around the Seven Heroines.”

Zelda has to swallow the tide of jealousy that rises within her. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Link hesitates, glancing at her briefly. “It’ll be good.”

She stares at the collection of park stickers adorning the car’s window. “Sometimes I wish…”

He stops his movements to wait for her to finish her thought.

Zelda shakes her head and pulls her hair tie off. Her hair streams down her neck and shoulders like a golden river. “Nevermind. I just wish things could be different. I wish I could go on a road trip too.”

“You could join me,” Link says lightly. “The passenger’s seat is open and an extra driver makes the trip easier.”

“Sure,” she agrees sarcastically. “I’ll just bail on the flight tomorrow.”

But as she watches him gather the rest of his supplies, her thoughts begin to whirl. She couldn't just bail on the flight...right?

She couldn't just not show up at the airport tomorrow right?

Well, it wasn't as if there was going to be someone waiting for her at the airport. She'd be expected to get herself home and await further instructions.

So...

Why couldn’t she go on this road trip?

Why did she have to rush back to Castletown at her father’s beck and call? Why was it her responsibility to divert attention from her father’s political blunders? She always had to be Governor Rhoam’s golden daughter, getting in and out of trouble.

She leans heavily against one of the garage work benches. Hadn’t she held up her end of the bargain? It is supposed to be a moment of celebration for her. The first year of her MBA at Gerudo Town University had been a roaring success. Her coursework and network had flourished; just as she had promised her father it would.

She didn’t even get to study engineering as she’d wanted—the MBA was already a compromise!

Link was right, it isn’t fair that she has to rush back to Castletown to take the heat off the bungled budget. She wasn’t even a politician! She’d never wanted to be a politician! Yet she’s the one that has to go out there for some photo-ops and be seen with the latest hot and scandalous celebrity. She’s the one that has to deal with the whispers about her man-eating ways and her fake charity. And why? Because someone from her father’s inner circle messed up?

No!

Zelda jumps to her feet. “Link!”

He pokes his head out from behind the car. “What?” Then he does a double take at the fire in her expression. “...What?” he repeats warily.

“I’m going to do it.”

“You’re going to do what?”

“I’m going to bail on the flight tomorrow.” She tightens her hands into fists. “I’m going to come on this road trip.”

Link stares at her. “Won’t you get in trouble with your dad?”

Zelda meets his eyes with resolution. “Definitely, but I…don’t think I care anymore.”

Understanding dawns across Link’s face. He nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes.

He leaves the garage for a moment and returns with another sleeping pad and sleeping bag. “I haven’t booked any hotels for the trip,” he warns her. “My plan was to camp as much as possible.”

“Of course!” A laugh bubbles out of her—it’s equal parts excitement and anxiety. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

Link’s responding grin warms her like the Gerudo sun. “You’d better go home and pack then,” he says. “We’re leaving at dawn.”

Zelda nearly vaults out of Link’s garage and hurries home. She flutters around her apartment, shoving clothing into her duffel bag haphazardly: her sun protection shirts, hiking pants, comfortable clothes for driving, shirts, sandals, sneakers, shorts, and one nice dress, just in case. She doesn’t stop moving, just in case she loses her nerve.

But that night, as she is washing up, she eyes her bag. Is she really going to do this? Father is going to be furious. She is and has been independent from him for years, but the idea of so overtly going against her father’s wishes is…daunting, now that she has had a moment to think.

Zelda looks at herself in the mirror. Her green eyes are still sparkling with excitement, despite her apprehensions. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and there’s a joy in her expression that she hardly recognizes. But her gaze settles on her long, blonde hair. It has become a signature look, of sorts, for her.

The golden, beautiful daughter of Governor Rhoam.

The moniker was assigned to her by the media and she is often identified by her hair. She had been proud of it—her mother was famous for her long gold strands–and spent considerable time and effort into the maintenance. But right now it feels heavy on her shoulders, chains that seem to shackle her to her family’s reputation.

She ponders this for a moment.

From the corner of her eye, Zelda spots the scissors she uses to trim her bangs. She seizes them impulsively.

She isn’t certain that people would recognize her. But her father is a an important figure in Hylian politics and, as a result, she's been in and out of the media spotlight. Even as a minor celebrity, her image is known to the public.

So it might be safer if she…

Snip…Snip…Snip…

She begins cutting her hair in a frenzy. By the time she actively remembers to draw breath, it’s done.

Zelda glances back into the mirror and the girl staring back at her is the same, but different. Her waist-length hair now hits just at her nape. The ends are choppy and uneven, a little wild. But somehow it works.

She looks down at the floor littered with her hair. It feels like a weight has been lifted.

She smiles at her reflection. Ready for a road trip.

[bloodlaceandwires]

you should know when you’re being aggressed against.

in theory, at least.

in practice, aggression is rarely violent.

in practice, aggression comes in the form of saccharine sweet pleasantries, condescending and yet somehow not intended that way.

it comes in the form of smiles and chatter to your face, and murmurs behind your back.

it comes in the form of a number that changes the dynamic every time a professional sees it.

it comes in the form of switching drivers and switching languages and switching hairstyles and switching clothes until you don’t remember who you are anymore.

in practice, you’re expected to change so often that it starts to feel natural.

aggressors don’t have the energy to gaslight you anymore. they don’t need to. it’s easier to force you to gaslight yourself, no external forces required. you question

- whether you’re experiencing anything out of the ordinary

- whether this seeping despair is how everyone feels

- whether the nausea is normal

- whether two, three, four, six sets of side effects could be acceptable

- whether you’re just lacking in something crucial

- whether your years of training could ever surpass theirs

you take the rock on which you base your beliefs and soften it into sand, your uncertainties negating your own strength until you’re on all fours again, trying to piece together what that belief system was.

you can feel them smiling as you ask yourself what that barely-visible word is.

80%, 75%, 50%, 30%, 20%, 0%, does it matter?

your statistics matter not in this world, child. they can choose to ignore them. they have their own set.

4 years, 8 years, 12 years, it doesn’t matter — it feels like nothing to 23 years. it feels like nothing to 44 years.

but it’s supposed to. the titles and the names and the accolades and the paper on the wall all tell you it is.

so isn’t it?

the aggressors feel uncomfortable when you assert your knowledge.

the aggressors feel uncomfortable when you question their superiority.

the aggressors feel uncomfortable when you call them the aggressors.

discomfort has never stopped you. you have not the luxury of stopping at mere discomfort.

[khianat]

random mini drabble for @rainyearning ; nine asking his dad for dating advice

Painted nails tapped against the visitor ID dangling around his neck, body resting forward against the backrest of the chair. The man in his late 40s made no sound other than fixing his glasses here and then as he scribbled notes about the two-hundred-year-old hair clips placed on the table in front, secured in cushions. A heavy sigh escaped the lips of the fox who pushed himself back, managing not to fall off. The noise was loud enough to cause a rare chuckle from his dad, a man known to be very knowledgeable in historical items of the late Joseon dynasty, but who did not show his emotions often, not even with his son.

"Hyeonwoo, when did you ever listen to my advice? I did not expect your request to be sincere." The shapeshifter puffed his cheeks, knowing he often came just to vent. Nine always talked about his thoughts and feelings, unlike his father, which is why he felt he could tell him almost everything. He loved his parent but his dad was a man who believed Nine should figure it out on his own, no matter what that was. The man finally closed the box and turned to his only child, giving the current new hair color a small glance. Despite their opposite wardrobes, they shared the ability to ignore statements about how they looked and acted nothing alike, which never affected their bond. There were times whne it was hard and Nine yearned to speak to somebody of how he felt like as a shapeshifter but he got used to it.

"I remember the mothers in your primary school always said their biggest nightmare was their high schoolers coming home, announcing they were parents out of reckless passion with a fellow student. I never worried about you being like that, but I didn’t expect you to fall for an adorable, sweet vampire princess born to very evil royal parents." His father enjoyed teasing, making Nine frown.

"Dad, aren't you supposed to say something smart or helpful? Don't scold me."

The man laughed and stood up, walking to his work desk. "I'm not scolding you, just amused. After all your talk about embracing yourself and being free, you pick someone who doesn’t seem to share that setup. But it makes sense, like when you were twelve and beat up that kid for mocking the girl you played video games with the short haircut after she accidentally cut it off."

Nine rolled his eyes. "That's different! You make it sound like that's why I want him. Elian is strong, he doesn't need me to like, save him because I have the urge to show him what it can be like to live." The prince was constantly on his mind, it was not just his human longing but also a strange instinct that decided, this is the one, I want him. He got excited and jumpy whenever it was time to meet up. "I can't stop thinking about him! I sketch him, buy pink stuff, even got myself pink hair ribbons and clips I’m too embarrassed to wear because I think he likes that side of me."

His father, still smiling, pushed his glasses up. "Hyeonwoo, I'm confident this young vampire likes you for more than just being a charming driver. It’s risky for him too, visiting you if he’s important."

It was one of those moments where the urge to shift and request ear rubs was quite intense, just to gain some comfort, but his father was always distant to his fox side, even tho he accepted it and nobody ever did that for him. Not unless he was bold and got closer to some kids who weren't as awkward as adults who thought of a fox as disgusting, especially since he wasn't one of those cute species from TikTok.

"I guess, that is what humans call meeting that one who is more than a crush and keeps haunting you and makes you look at things differently. True Love. I guess, it is time to admit you come after me, after all. We both seem to choose the one thing very opposite to us with … a particular level of risk." His father seemed a little more distant now, likely thinking back about the woman who dropped her offspring off on his doorstep.

"That sounds so serious..." Nine mumbled. Love was a big word, but the thought of Elian texting to meet later excited him. "So, I could bring him over... he can’t have dinner, but you know?" Nine was thankful, he did not ask his father to be just that very often, usually comfortable with their more relaxed relationship, but in that moment, he needed it.

"Sounds like a reason to open that ancient bottle of whiskey you got me," the man chuckled, indicating his support. He returned to his work, his way of saying he'd support his son, even if it meant confronting the vampire nobility of the city.

Maybe the men of the Park family were a bit insane in the name of love.

Nine shook his head, muttering as he left the museum: "Ew, no, name of love, it’s not the 80s." He texted Elian to meet him later.

[scudevils]

Girl— I NEED bratty reader who is really chatty and dom!max fucking her face and like “putting your big mouth to use”

THIS IS FILTHY but like hhjwbrbbebbrjr

play with fire — MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: smut, swearing, dom!max, bratty reader, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), rough sex, slight reader x charles, google translated dutch

synopsis: another win, another club, and max is tired of your relentless teasing [3.5k]

a/n: when i tell you i dropped everything and RAN to write this i mean it and i hope it lives up to your expectations!! i’m still pretty new to rough smut so its kinda still a bit soft in some places 🫠. also with the ending, a part 2 may happen 🤭

a/n (2): coming back to this fic i realised i forgot to mention that this is simply fanfic, as in it is not real, please do not base your sexual relationships on anything i write especially when it is rougher like in this fic.

You didn't even have to look to know his eyes were on you, burning the image of you dancing into his memory.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, goosebumps forming on your skin underneath the short dress you wore, intentionally choosing the shortest dress you'd packed for the weekend, and his favourite one you owned.

His eyes never left the way your dress hugged your curves in all the right places, riding above your mid thigh, a low cut neck just to tempt him further. Admiring how even in the dark lit club the colour complimented your tan thanks to the Bahrain sun.

Just behind you he also never took his eyes of the taller driver, edging closer to you every other second until his back was just a hair away from yours. Max was content enough in his relationship that he didn't seen Charles as a threat, he had trust enough in you to know nothing would ever happen, it was Charles he didn't trust.

The clock had just struck 2am, drunk groups leaving for the journey back to their hotel, quickly replaced by another, less drunk but still not sober group. Max liked to think he was a patient man when it came to you, he knew you liked to tease him, especially on a night like this where he wasn't giving you as much attention as you wanted, and that's exactly what you were doing.

He saw how you moved your body closer to the Monegasques body, his hands itching to grab at your hips. The thin fabric on your thighs drifted higher the more you danced, and it took everything in Max's power to not pull you away from him, to teach you a lesson in front of everyone in the club.

The dutchman excused himself from the people he was forcing himself to talk to, a tight lipped smile a nod of his head and he was already making his way over to you.

Your body instinctively leant into the familiar hold on your hips, the hand on the small of your back, being pulled flush against his chest. "Having fun?" His accent almost seemed thicker, whether it was the annoyance lacing it or the alcohol in his system you didn't care.

"Mhm, Charles is a great dancer." Turning to face him, a smile on your face as you feigned looking for the Monegasque, ultimately giving up when he was dancing with another girl.

Max didn't looked impressed by your answer, hands  with fidgeting with the looser material of the dress, wanting to feel you as close to him as possible. "Heard he's a great kisser too," You laid small, barely there, kisses across his skin, stopping just underneath his earlobe before you spoke again. "Think i should go see if that's true?"

You went to move, to go over the very man you talking about before you were pulled back into Max’s arm, this time feeling more compelled to stay "We're going home."

A small laugh escaped your mouth as his words, this was your favourite side of Max, when his patience was worn thin, seconds away from snapping, in those moments he looked at you like he never does any other time. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, craning his head down towards you. "And if i want to stay? Then what."

"You won't," His voice dropped an octave, the drunken slur he had to it driving you crazy. "Unless you want me to take you into that bathroom and leave you till you're practically begging me to make you cum." Max punctuated his words with a tender kiss to your temple, almost mockingly with the drastic contrast to what he said.

You pouted teasingly, running your finger along the underside of his jaw. "You'll do that anyway, need more convincing." Max watched as you went back to leaving kisses across his exposed skin, marks forming in your wake.

The grip on your waist tightened, smirking against his body when you felt his hand just underneath your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him, seeing the lust filled irritation in his eyes. "We're going home." He punctuated each word, and even on one of your most defiant days you weren't going to argue with him when he had that tone.

You couldn't even remember how you'd gotten home, wether Max had drove or whether you'd gotten a taxi, only feeling the pressure of his body on yours pushed up against the hotel wall.

Your hand slipped from around his neck, inching down the front of his body, across his abdomen, down to just over his jeans. Teasing over where the bulge was straining against the fabric, a smirk on your face when you heard his breath getting stuck in his throat. "Thought you weren't gonna fuck me anymore?"

You brought back up the conversation from earlier on that evening, both of you just getting ready to leave for the race when you got the idea. The shower was on, bathroom filled with steam when you joined him underneath the hot water, not long before you were on your knees for him, and when you felt him edging closer you left him there.

Before he left for the track he'd threatened you with that, telling you he'd never fuck you again.

"Got quite an attitude today don't you, Schatje?" He commented, hand around your throat squeezing as he left a hickey at the base of your neck. "It was cute at first but not you're being a brat." You let out an exaggerated whimper at his words, rolling your eyes when you caught him looking at you. "Tell me, do you want me to fuck you? Or can you do it all on your own."

At your lack of answer, his fingers forced your face to look at him, seeing his flushed cheeks and puffy lips, a look in his eyes that reignited the fire in your belly. You shook your head, hearing a tut from Max at your reply. "If you don't want me to fuck you then what do you want?"

You paused for a moment, thinking over how he'd react at the answer you were about to give. "Wanna know how Charles would fuck me," His hand tightened around your throat, irritation that was in his eyes now a full blown anger, feeling the pads of his fingers digging into your skin. "Do you think it would be slow? Or would be fuck me fast how i like it?"

"I think you need a reminder of who come home to every night." You couldn't even deny how desperate you were when he talked like that, how demanding he was, the way he had complete control over your body, he was insatiable, like a drug.

Max muttered under his breath, pulling your dress up around your waist, ignoring the sound of the seams splitting from his harsh movement, and you whined at the rush of cold air hitting your unclothed cunt.

"No panties?" He looked down at you, locking eyes as you shook your head, still defiant to give into him. "Didn't realise i was dating such a slut, letting everyone see you like this."

"Should've paid more attention to me." You huffed out, feeling unappreciated by your dutch boyfriend and he hummed at your words, the crack in his tough exterior being the way he held your hand towards the bed, the warmth although slowly replaced when he laid you down against the soft mattress.

His lips met yours as he ran his hands down your body, pressing against your clit with his thumb before pushing a finger inside you, capturing your moan in his mouth. "You want more attention?" He questioned against your lips, nodding furiously as he slipped another finger in you.

Max didn't even wait for you to answer him properly not stopping his movements, instead picking up as he relentlessly brought you closer and closer to the edge before slowing down enough to leave you just nearly there, just as you'd done earlier. Your back was arched off of the bad, chest pressed against his, biting down on your bottom lip to hide your desperate moans.

"You wanna cum, liefje?" You nodded your head repeatedly against his body, ready to do anything he asked of you for any sort of release. The addition of his thumb against your clit had you whining loudly, your body already tired and slumping against his. "Too bad."

His words were only turning you on more, the dark undertone in his voice leaving your imagination to run wild on how'd he'd make you suffer through the night. "Open your eyes." You did as he said, the eye contact instant as his eyes bore into yours.

"Max, please." You were half pleading with him to stop the teasing, the give in, whilst the other half wanted him to, you wanted him to teach you a lesson. He gave you a faux look of sympathy, and just when you felt you were about to tip over the edge he stopped all movement.

"You didn't really think you were gonna get off that easy did you?" His fingers being pushed between your lips prevented you from answering, not that you had the dignity left to argue. "You've been all talk tonight," Shying away from looking at him, he let out a short laugh. "Finally gonna put that mouth to good use now, aren't you?"

You shook your head, straightening your back as you sat up to look at the Dutchman defiantly, crossing your arms, in return he cocked his head to the side. Max sighed, already tired of the act you were putting on, the bratty attitude you were having, and you writhed in his arms when he brought you onto his lap, inches away from his face.

"All you had to do was listen, and you can't even do that." His calm voice was what worried you the most, and you got your answer of what he was about to do when he'd bent you over his still clothed thigh, but not before pulling the creased dress over your head, leaving you bare.

"I can-"

"Don't argue with me, schatje." Feeling even more vulnerable than before, being completely naked in front of Max was nothing new but it was when he was still fully clothed. He ran his hand over your bare ass, giving you the chance to back down and when you didn't he brought his hand down against the tender skin, a moan falling from your lips as he did.

and again, and again.

"You can stop this, y/n, although i don't know if you want to." Whining at his words, Max slapped his hand against you again, soothing down the burning red skin before going again. "Tell me, are you gonna behave?"

His hand ran across the reddened skin, ready to land another slap when you nodded your head, just barely catching his eye. "Words." Was all he said, waiting patiently for you to admit defeat.

"I'll behave Max, please." He wiped a fallen tear from your cheek, smudging your mascara in the process, hands around your waist when he pulled you up to meet his face.

He pushed a fallen strand of hair behind you ear, an action that matched the soft tone of his voice, but only for a split second. "Good, now get on your knees."

Your hands drifted towards his waistband, removing his jeans as quickly as you could dragging them down to his muscular thighs, his cock inches away, straining against his tight calvins.

Painfully slow you pulled them down, his hard cock slapping against his lower stomach, your eyes flickering up to see Max's already on yours, watching your every move, his tip coated completely in pre cum. No matter how many times you'd seen him like this, and how many more times you're sure you'll see it, every time felt like first.

Max had propped himself up on his forearms to be able to look at you. Teasingly, you placed a singular kiss to the tip, testing the waters to see how lenient he'd be with you, watching as he twitched and smugly smiling up at Max, his eyes closes im anticipation. From the tip to the base you continued a line of kisses, wanting every part of him to be appreciated, just like you always did. When you reached the tip again, you licked away the salty pre cum that coated your lips, hearing him groan.

"Don't tease me, thought you were trying to be good?" His voice rang in your ears, gathering enough spit in your hand, moving your hand up and down the length of his cock, making sure to reach every part of it. "Behave." You smirked at his warning, still choosing to ignore him when you peppered more kisses across his thighs and tip again.

The veins in his arms rippled as he held himself up, only a little while longer and he would be collapsing against the bed.

Max's hips bucked up into your hand, needing more than what you were giving him. He was desperate to be able to feel your lips around his cock, watching as it disappeared down your throat then reappeared seconds later. The way your mascara is half way down your face afterwards driving him inside. Your lips ghosted over his tip once again, your hot breath fanning against. "Open your mouth."

If there was one thing you loved more than Max, it was getting him to that demanding stage, where his need to feel you took over. The unconventional power trip it gave you to have him as putty in your hands and be able to take away what he was feeling instantly, it made you feel in control and you revelled in that. "Fucking open your mouth."

Instead of giving him what he wanted you continued to kiss up and down his length. Changing your path over to the thick thighs of his you loved so much, leaving hickey's as a reminder onto them both. Max's hips bucked up again, desperation in his eyes as he looked down at you. "Y/n-"

His breath had caught in his throat when you pushed his cock down as far as it could go, the tip hitting against the back had you gagging. He let out a groan as you bobbed your head up and down, grabbing your hair and making a makeshift ponytail out of it to guide you.

Your nails dug into his thigh as he continued to push himself deeper down your throat, groaning when you gagged around him, the vibrations sending him into a frenzy. "Fuck, this is all your mouths good for, you hear me?" Max's head rolled back in pleasure, his exposed neck taunting you to leave more marks.

Max's face contorted into different variations of pleasure when you looked up at him through your eyelashes. Finally he looked back down at you to find you already looking at him, moaning as you kept eye contact. The heavy hand on your head forced his cock down your throat again, hollowing out your cheeks to allow him down further.

You were enjoying this too much for Max's liking, pulling you off him to readjust by the end of the bed, your knees of the ground when he forcedd himself down your throat.

The new angle had you nearly choking on him, gagging around cock and be pushed himself deeper down your throat, tears spilling from your eyes which only spurred him on more. "Just like that, don't stop."

The blackening from your mascara dripping down your face as you continued, meeting the intense thrusts of his hips, whining when you felt it get too much. "Don't you dare whine, liefje." When you felt Max's thighs start to twitch and tense you knew he was close. "Fuck don't stop." He was practically pleading with you and you had no plan to until he was cumming down your throat.

Which would come as soon as you thought, within seconds his breath caught in his throat, the pressure of him grip on your hair lessen, thrusts becoming more erratic and Max didn't move from your mouth until every last bit of his release was down your throat. Without hesitation , you swallowed, the saltiness you were already used to leaving an after-taste.

You whined as he brought you back to your feet, pressing your lips together in an almost bruising kiss. Just as before you wanted to push your luck, running your hands along his now shirtless abdomen, seeing how he tensed under your touch, but still he wasn't going to give into you.

"Does my baby want to come? Is she done being a brat?" Nodding against his body, Max was quick in wrapping your legs around his hips, feeling him hardening underneath you, rolling your hips against his before he stopped you.

"You have no control right now, understand?” His head dipped to your neck, going over his past mark and adding more as he did so. Max's mouth moved against yours, his hands roaming your body, squeezing your thighs when he reached them and pushing them wider. 

Max captured your moan as he pushed inside of you, being too caught up in the way his lips felt against your skin to realise he'd lifted your hips to meet him. "You feel so good, always do." He whispered the words against your ear, kissing behind your earlobe, the words of praise proving rare for the night.

A multitude of swear words and his name fell from your mouth, his unrelenting pace already bringing you closer and closer to your impending high. Your already sensitive cunt contracting around Max, a groan being pulled from him as you were chasing your first orgasm.

Your thighs tightened around his waist, his fingers now circling your clit being what drove you over the edge. Biting down on his shoulder, sure to leave a mark, his name falling from your mouth in a moan, nails digging into the skin of his back.

Max never gave you any time to recover, keeping his hands on your hips as he rolled them against his own. His thrusts were just as fast and deep as before, maybe even more so. "Max-" You croaked out his name, an attempt to get at least an ounce of pity from him, something that never came. "I can't, it's too much."

Max's fingers fell underneath your jaw, forcing you into looking him. His pupils were dilated as he looked down at you, swollen lips and red cheeks accompanied. "You can take it, i know you can." You wanted to argue, tell him you needed a break but he hit just that right spot inside of you there was no place for an argument. "Prove to me you're still my good girl.”

You were already overstimulated, the pleasure becoming too much to handle as your second high hit. Tears fell from your eyes from the overwhelming sensation, stinging the already wet patches on your cheeks. When he slowed down you expected him to stop, give you a couple minutes to recover. Max, however, wiped the fallen tears before continuing just as fast as he had before.

"One more, schatje, just one more." He kissed your temple in the first proper display of affection he had shown you that night.

From the way he was twitching inside of you, you could feel just how close he was to his own release. His thrusts became sloppier and less consistent as his groans grew louder. It was now his turn to his his face in your neck, moaning against your skin as he felt you clench around him.

Your body was ready to collapse from exhaustion, arms moving from around his neck to support your body on the counter. Within a couple seconds you felt him release inside of you, a groan to follow it and spurring on your own orgasm.

Max was the first to move, sliding himself out of you, making you wince at the loss of contact. You could already feel him cum leaking out of you, despite how deep he was in you. "You look so pretty like this, filled with my cum."

His back fell onto the mattress beside you, arms open for you to crawl into, and you happily accepted. "Bet Charles couldn't get you to cum like that." Max teased you, nipping at the skin between your neck and shoulder.

"I like seeing you jealous." You laughed as he tried defending himself, claiming he wasn't jealous, that Charles had nothing to do with it, and you nodded your head, still not believing him when your hands found the short strands of his hair, then he said something you wouldn't in a million years had expected to come out of his mouth.

"Invite him to join next time then, see if i'm jealous."

[meep923]

༻Your Appearance Messed Me Up(yuyeon)༺

Chapter 8/25 + bonus chapter

Yuqi's POV

"Calm down, please. What is it that you want to talk to me about?" Minnie asked.

"Anywhere private. Not here." I replied. She shrugged and led me to her car and opened her car door for me. I sat down on the seat and buried my face in my hands. She closed the door and went to open the other door for her to sit down at the driver's side. She started the car and drove out of the parking lot. 

"Go on. It's private here. I have no recording devices in this car." She said.

"You know your idea of me going into X Company?" She hummed, signifying that she did. "I got in. And I found out that they are actually a mafia company." I continued.

"What?!" She slammed the brakes, causing a lot of honking from the cars behind. She quickly drove the car to side of the road. I looked up. "Yes. I did that. Anyways. They have a hidden category for people to choose once they apply for the position of music producer. I joined but someone else did too. She was not supposed to. Her normal, safe life just got messed up. Her name's Soyeon and she knew nothing about the things that may happen in there. I don't know what to do. She had to kill a person to even survive today. I know by her stance and her reaction she has never done things of that sort before." I leaned back on the car seat.

"Sounds like you have grown attached to her." Minnie smirked.

"I'm being serious here."

"Okay. Sorry. One question. How do you know that she has done none of these things before?"

"Promise... No, swear not to tell anyone."

"Okay... I swear not to tell anyone."

"I'm a member of the Chinese mafia. My dad's the boss, he made me join when I was 18. He was all I had, my mother died, I really wanted him to be happy. But now, I really have no idea if he's really my dad. My life is so fucking messed up. In the past week, I've found out that my dad may be some random stranger, my entire last 5 years might've been fake. Then when I want to deal with this conspiracy that we, as in me and 2 close friends, this girl, Soyeon, she got involved in this shit." 

"Woah... That's a lot. So, you are going into X Company as a spy mostly to find out about that conspiracy? And the fact that you are helping me is just as a gesture to show that you want to be good?"

"Yes. But also, a way to get a chance to escape from my past. I feel like with all things that I've done, I really want to stop this. I want to stop being part of this mafia. I want to bring it down. I want to be a normal person. Fall in love, get married, go to a normal place for work, and stuff like that."

"I think I can understand. I ran away from my family when I was 18. I didn't want to be that perfect child they wanted me to be. I was born into a rich Thai family. I was given so many expectations that I don't know how did I meet when I was younger. I left and cut ties with them. I came to Korea and went to police school after getting my citizenship. I became a detective and here I am. And if I'm not wrong, my dad is also the boss of the Thai branch of the entire mafia network that spreads all over the world. I'm going against everything I've believed as a child when I went to police school but here I am, a detective that's earned her honors and is in charge of investigating in an anti-mafia project." She smiled bitterly.

"So, friends?" I tilted my head and looked at her. Minnie tilted her head to look at me, she smiled, "Friends."

Minnie drove me back home. I walked into my apartment and saw Shuhua dressing herself up. "Hey! There you are. Soojin invited us over to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" I asked.

"She didn't say." Shuhua shrugged her shoulders. I put down my bag and we went to apartment opposite us and knocked on the door. Soyeon opened the door and welcomed us in.

"Soojin's in the kitchen. She's cooking." Soyeon said. Before she finished, Shuhua was already running to Soojin. Soojin walked out the kitchen with her hands laden with plates. She carefully placed the plates on the table. "Damn, that looks delicious." I muttered, looking at the food. We sat down at the table and Soojin opened a can of beer. "Congratulations to Soyeon for getting her dream job." We all opened a can and toasted to her.

"Another thing. Me and Soojin are officially dating." Shuhua said and kissed her girlfriend on her lips. I see Soyeon slightly cringing at the affectionate display of feelings. "Congrats." I lifted my can at the both of them. Shuhua smiled slightly. 

"So, Soojin, Shuhua and Yuqi." Soyeon started, "I want to be a part of whatever ya'll were discussing a week ago. I'm in the 'hidden category', so, yeah." She said. I felt the temperature of the room drop below freezing point. "You what?" Soojin looked at her incredulously. Her tone was icy and she turned her gaze at me.

In a flash, she was on her feet and staring at me. "It's all your fault." She growled and put her hand on my neck, strangling me. She slammed me against the wall. "Why. Why did she join the hidden category?" She was practically in flames from the anger that was boiling inside of her. "She joined before me or Shuhua could stop her. It was too late. She saw me raise my hand and she followed suit." I choked out.

Soojin let hold of her grip on my neck and I gasped for air. I rubbed my neck, she probably left marks there with that grip of hers. "I shouldn't have let you gone to X Company at all. Now you are also involved in this shit." She mumbled furious.

"Maybe I can just quit." Soyeon peeped.

"NO!" Soojin and I shouted at the same time. "You will die. Like at quitters do." Soojin said darkly. "That's an understatement, you will get killed." I said, equally darkly. Soyeon realised the seriousness of the situation and kept quiet. "Why did you do that?" Soojin asked Soyeon quietly.

"She was joining the hidden category and I'm afraid she might get hurt, like she did the last time. So my impulse took over and I joined too." Soyeon muttered. For some reason, my heart starting beating a little faster. I dismissed the feeling quickly.

"Last time?" Soojin looked at me quizzically. 

"The time you shot me." I replied.

"What happened? You didn't say when we were planning."

"I didn't want her dragged in. After you shot me, I ran away. I saw the convenience store and ran in. I knew it from going earlier that day. I ran in and hid behind the counter. I had no idea that there was still anyone there. She crept up to me after 5 minutes, I think. She took some stuff from the shelves and helped me get the bullet out. You should be proud that it was quite deep and I'm still hurting a little now." I explained quickly.

"You did what?" Soojin looked at Soyeon who smiled sheepishly. The rest of the time was spent filling Soojin and Shuhua in with what happened after we chose the secret category. It took a long time, since Soojin was really protective of Soyeon as a friend. They grew up together. And Soyeon was her only friend that she really trusted with the most of her life. Soojin really couldn't think of anything bad happening to her.

At the end of the dinner, Soojin walked me and Shuhua out of the apartment. She kissed Shuhua goodbye, then she dragged me to the side. "You better take care of Soyeon." She whispered in my ears bitterly.

[keulixeutin]

A Soft October Night

a/n: i have a thing for citrus scents—and an inability to describe perfumes and colognes—so leave me alone asidlfhad.  i felt sad and wanted to write something sad, but i hate writing sad things bc i’m delicate and sensitive, so this is as close as i’ll get.  this was supposed to be like 1k.  and then???? idk. also, this is noted as a drabble but it's the length of a dang fic lmaoo but the vibe is drabble, u feel??? anyways, i hope u enjoy!!!!!

summary: after receiving a heartbreaking rejection, you find comfort in the arms of someone you least expect.  bakugou x fem!reader (if you squint). one-sided shindou x reader, or more like nakagame x shindou x reader.

cw: she/her pronouns, fem!reader. swearing, angst, heartbreak, hurt and comfort, reader feeling super insecure, shindou kind of leading reader on (implications), alcohol, drunk reader, bakugou being comfort, some fluff and cuteness at the end.

word count: 4,696.

You stared at the side of Yo’s chiseled face as he pulled out his phone and responded to a text message.  You knew better than to look; you knew you’d simply be twisting the knife in your side, confirming what you already knew.  Your eyes flickered down to the smiling face of a cutely sweet blond: Nakagame Tatami.  It was embarrassing and humiliating to call her your rival in love, but there wasn’t any other way to say it.

And, actually, it wasn’t much of a rivalry.  She was in the lead, if she hadn’t already won.  The evidence was right in front of you—there you were, drunk and upset, and Yo was still messaging her.

When the two of you got to his car, he pocketed his phone and opened the driver’s door.  You opened the passenger side—but then you stopped, heart throbbing like it was being squeezed in someone’s apathetic hand.

“Yo,” you began, “do you like me?”

He looked to you, brows furrowing.  “Babe, you know the answer to that,” he said, and the pet-name that once had you shuddering in elation now had you trembling in grief.

“Yo—”

“Of course I like you.”

It wasn’t an answer though.  You knew him well enough to know that what he said wasn’t what he meant; what he said wasn’t a real answer to your question.  He was only trying to placate you for another day, say what you wanted to hear to keep you quiet for another week, say anything to avoid admitting a decision that he had already made.

“I’m really tired,” you said suddenly.

“I know, babe,” he said.  “Get in the car, and I’ll drive you home.”  

“I’m exhausted, Yo,” you continued.  “Fucking exhausted.”

He didn’t say anything, realizing then that you weren’t referencing your physical fatigue.  You held tightly onto the passenger door, grinding your teeth to keep the tears from falling, to keep from screaming.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered.  “If you like me, then you’re mine; and if you’re mine, then you’re mine.”

“…Let’s talk about this later.”  His voice had softened, but it was because he could see the breaking on your face, and not because he wanted the talk to be later so that he could be sweet.

He wasn’t sweet to you.  He’d never be, not in the way you wanted, not in the way you asked.

You pressed your hand over your eyes, as if you could force the tears back.

“It’s okay if it’s fucking Nakagame,” you said, your voice cracking.  “But if it is, then you need to leave me alone.”

He hesitated.  “It’s not like that.  I’m not saying that it’s Tatami—”

“Then who is it?” you asked, hearing the high and hissing desperation in your voice.  It had been months like this, long weeks of secret laughter and tender touches and quiet kisses in the corners—and yet there was nothing to show for it in the light of the day.  Everything that had happened under the cover of darkness stayed there, and you were always left waking with questions and confusions.

“It’s—it’s not anyone,” he said.  “I care about you—I care about the both of you.  Why is that a crime?  You’re both important to me.  I can’t choose because you matter to me in—in different ways.”

That was enough for the dam to break.  You leaned your forehead against your forearm, still gripping the door for support as you tried to swallow the gasping sobs breaking through. 

You both mattered to him in different ways.  Of course, you thought.  It was always like this with every person you had ever loved.

“Why can’t you say that it’s me?” you asked.  “That you pick me?”

“[Name]—”

“Is that so bad?”  You let out a pained and incredulous laugh.  “Is it so hard to say, ‘It’s you, and it’s only you?'”

He stepped around the car to you.  When you felt his hand touch your arm, you jerked away, face stained with heartbreak and tears.

“You’re drunk,” he said gently.  “Let me get you home and we can talk about this tomorrow.  How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like bullshit,” you spat.  “Sounds like another way for you to avoid the hard conversation.  Sounds like another way for you to keep me on the side and Nakagame in your bed.”

Hurt flashed across his face, and it only made you angrier.  How could it be that he felt hurt?  How was that fair that his feelings got to be hurt when he was the one stringing you along?  How was it that he could look so goddamn handsome with pain coloring his brows while you, the actual victim, had ugly snot and tears and smeared eyeliner and frizzy hair?

“Babe, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“I hear what you’re saying,” you interrupted bitterly, “loud and clear, Yo.  It’s not me—and that’s fucking fine—but this—whatever this is—this is not fucking fine.”

“[Name], wait—”

Yo tried to grab your arm, but you quickly side-stepped him, storming back toward the bar.  The car doors closed behind you; then, after a brief moment’s hesitation, you heard him quickly follow after you.  Picking up your speed, you entered through the back door and shuffled through the crowd on unsteady feet, rubbing at your face to try to wipe away any evidence that this had hurt. You paused, quickly looking around, trying to recall where the bathroom was; you figured you could hide in the women’s bathroom before leaving, or maybe even climb through the window and call for an Uber.

Abruptly, someone grabbed onto your wrist.

“Hey, what the hell?” It was a familiar, gruff voice. 

You turned, meeting bright red eyes: Bakugou. 

He took in your blotchy face and disheveled hair, concerned etched into his normal scowl.

“You alright there, doc?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you said tightly, trying to pull your wrist out of his hold, but he held on, frowning.  “Just need to get to the bathroom.”

You thought you heard Yo calling for your name above the buzz of the music and the crowd, but you weren’t sure if it was simply part of your imagination.  You couldn’t lie; you had a moment of weakness where you hoped he would catch up to you, grab you by the waist, and then profess his love and apologize for his stupidity, but even in your drunken and despondent state, you knew how ridiculous that dream was.  Him calling you hadn’t been in your head, though, as Bakugou had heard him as well; the both of you turned to look back in the same direction.

“I can’t talk to him right now,” you said, and he finally let go of your hand.

“Hold on,” Bakugou said.  “Come here—that dumbass would be stubborn enough to follow you even into the women’s bathroom.”

He walked you backwards to the bar a few feet from you, shoving others aside to make space for the two of you.  Bakugou blocked you in against the countertop and his chest; one hand gripped the counter, covering you from sight with his arm and shoulder, and the free hand looped loosely around your waist.  He tilted his head down toward your ear.  The position was intimate; to anyone looking, they’d see a man murmuring sweetly into someone’s ear.  The stance perfectly obstructed views; he hid you from wandering gazes with his large back as he pressed you into his hard chest, into his earth and citrus cologne.

You didn’t know if Yo passed by.  You were enveloped by Bakugou’s scent and warmth, and as he pulled you in closer, or as you leaned in further, you suddenly released the heartbreak that you had been trying to wipe from your face, a weight you had been trying to hold onto until you reached the safety of the bathroom stalls.  In Bakugou’s arms—in his surprisingly warm and tender embrace, in his arms that encircled you like you were the softest and most delicate thing he ever had to hold—you cried.  Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest, unable to help yourself.

You thought he’d tense, thought he’d push you away in sneering disgust.  It wasn’t as if you had a particularly volatile relationship with him, but he wasn’t known to be the most compassionate person.  But, defying your expectations, Bakugou pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you fully.  He pressed his cheek against the top of your head—and you felt him sway slowly.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured against your hair, and for some reason, that made you cry harder.

You felt so pathetic, crying over someone you knew would never pick you, crying over something that had happened to you over and over again already.

You must’ve been so pathetic that Bakugou—the explosive, hot-headed, roughest-around-the-edges Bakugou Katsuki—was trying to comfort you.  You had asked—begged—pleaded—Yo to give you a little bit of anything, shamefully crying for scraps for so long, and here was Bakugou, giving you what he could, turning down his fire, his heat, to give you a little bit of warmth that wouldn’t burn.

How was this fair?

“You’re fine,” Bakugou whispered.  “You’re okay.”

You gripped his shirt, not caring that you were potentially ruining it with the tight clamping of your nails and your tears seeping through the fabric.

“Fuck that guy,” he muttered.  “I never fuckin’ liked him or his fuckin’ ugly face anyways.”

The sudden shift made you laugh, hiccuping against the cries fighting for dominance in your throat.  It didn’t provide any lasting relief, though, but you were grateful even for the second of reprieve.

Once you got a handle on your breath, you pulled back, saying, “Thanks—for hiding me.”  You didn’t want to stand here and keep crying in Bakugou’s chest; you were drunk, but you were aware enough to know you’d regret it embarrassingly in the morning.  “I’m, um, gonna sneak out before he comes back around.”

—But he didn’t respond like you had expected.

“I’ll walk you out,” he offered.  He smoothed out your hair, detangling some strands, a gesture that was tenderhearted, something you never would’ve thought to attach to the hero voted most likely to attack journalists and paparazzi.

“I’ll be fine.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Shut up and walk.”

With a huff, you looked over his arms and shoulders.  When you didn’t see Yo, Bakugou released you from his hold and followed you as you pushed through club crowd, heading for the entrance.  When you finally made it out onto the street, you took in a deep but shaky breath of the cool night air.

Just another night, you thought.  Just another second place trophy to add to the shelf.

Nothing new, you told yourself.  Nothing new.

Bakugou gently touched your hand, getting your attention.  When you looked at him, he jerked a thumb toward the parking lot.

“Over here,” he said.

It took a while to piece it together, due to the fog of alcohol and heartache, but when you realized what he was offering, you shook your head.  “Seriously,” you said, “you’ve done enough.  You don’t need to drive me home; I’ll just call a taxi or Uber or something…”

“Why the hell would you spend money when I’m telling you I’ve got a fuckin’ car?”

“Because I want to wallow alone.”

He stopped, staring at you.  “Do you?” he asked.

It seemed like, if you said yes, he’d leave you alone; it seemed like he was giving you an option to be honest and he’d respect your answer—but, truthfully, you didn’t know yourself.  This was the only way you knew how to deal with your feelings toward Yo.  This was the only way you had ever dealt with feelings such as this, alone in the dark.  You didn’t know if you wanted company.  You didn’t know if it would make it better or easier, or if you’d just feel stupid and humiliated in the presence of others.

“Doc?” he asked.  It wasn’t a creative nickname.  He—and many others—called you doc because you had a PhD in bio-engineering with quirk applications—but there was something sincere about the way he said it, something softer and more intimate than Yo’s frequent usage of babe.

You shrugged, feeling your eyes sting with unshed tears again.  You didn’t know you had so much in you to give, so much to lose, so much already lost.

“Come on,” he said.  

Bakugou didn’t grab onto you, letting you decide, but you ultimately followed him as he wove through parked cars.  He led you to the other side of the lot where the metal barrier stopped cars from driving off the hill and down into traffic.  Past it was a expansive and beautiful view of the sea, sparkling underneath a bright crescent moon.

He motioned for you to go to toward the back of his car; he helped you up to sit on the trunk.  Then, he reached into the back passenger’s seat for an unopened water bottle.

“Drink,” he said, putting it into your hands.  “You hungry?”

You shrugged again.

“Stay here,” he ordered, and you irrationally found it so goddamn hilarious that he thought there was somewhere you could go.

While he was gone, you stared at the passing cars below and the soft shimmering of the ocean.  From so high up, you could see the stars reflected back in some of the calmer waters before gentle waves rippled the view.  You drank from the bottle slowly, sniffling and wiping your nose with the back of your hand every few minutes as you mentally tortured yourself with every little bit of Yo that had made you fall in love—his stupidly soft smile in the glow of the morning light, his bark of laughter whenever you unwittingly bumped your shoulder into corners, his nimble fingers braiding your hair as you were bent over costume and gear schematics in the early dawn, him having just finished his patrol and you still having yet gone to sleep.

You wondered if he did the same with Nakagame on the days he didn’t visit you.

—No, you knew he did.

He probably did more.

In the morning light, he probably kissed her.  If she bumped into walls, he probably checked for any injuries.  After late night patrols, he probably pulled her into the bed, skin-to-skin underneath the sheets because that was the best way to sleep.

You gripped the water bottle tightly.

Bakugou came back then; he had a plate of chicken karaage and two beers.  He handed you the warm plate and drink before hopping onto the back of his car, settling down right beside you.  His body emitted heat constantly.  You wondered if that was how he was or if it had to do with his quirk; maybe a mixture of both.  It was welcoming in the cool night.

“Doesn’t this defeat the purpose of my water?” you asked, replacing the water bottle with the beer when he popped it open for you.

“Who fuckin’ eats chicken karaage without beer?” Bakugou snorted.

The two of you clinked the glass bottles and took a swig, picking at the food in your lap.  You turned to stare at the shifting ocean under the silver light.

“Shouldn’t you go back in with your friends?” you asked suddenly, masochistically trying to push him away so you could be miserable alone.

“They’re fine,” he answered.  “Eijirou’s been slowly sobering up ever since Dunce Face started hitting on the dancers.”

You cracked a wry grin.  “The dancers that are dating the bouncers?”

“The dancers dating the fucking bouncers.”  

He took another swig of his drink.  You followed suit.  It was quiet.  You thought it would stay like that, just an hour of complete silence while you wallowed and moped; it’d probably be easier for the number two explosive hero.  He wasn’t one for small talk, much less sentimental ones—but he continued to surprise you, and you found yourself secretly grateful.

“…You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

You glanced at him, sniffling without meaning to.  “I’m surprised you wanna hear about it.”

“I don’t,” he retorted.  “But—feels like something you might like.  Or need.  Or whatever.”  Under the dim light of the night, the harsh lines on his face made from his training, his anger, his life, seemed to soften.  

“That’s sweet,” you remarked.  “I think.  Well, it is sweet for you, I guess.”

He didn’t respond, letting the silence fill until you felt ready to say something.

You didn’t think you were.  You didn’t think you’d ever be.  Even with your past blunders in love, you never truly felt comfortable enough to talk about them with anyone, not even your closest friends.  You never felt okay enough.  It was difficult to move on when you were consistently trapped in these situations.  Everyone who had wrapped their arms around you under the cover of night disappeared as soon as the sun kissed your eyelids.  Even worse, they disappeared and fell into someone else’s arms.

“There’s nothing to say,” you finally said, voice low as though you were afraid that, any louder, and you’d burst into tears.  “I stupidly…waited around, and—and he didn’t pick me.”  You scratched at your cheek, attempting nonchalance in your tone and movement, even though you were staring pointedly at your heels to keep the stinging in your eyes from morphing into anything else.  “To be fair,” you continued, “he didn’t pick either of us—me or Nakagame.  Turtle Neck, if you remember.  But, anyways, I know what that means.”

“What does it mean?”

“That I am, once again, not good enough to be chosen.”  You smiled bitterly.  “Always the bridesmaid and never the bride, is what they say.”  You tried to laugh, but it came out hollow.

You could feel him staring at you, the heat of his gaze warming the side of your face.

“I know you’re not interested in a pity-party,” you said, “but I just need it for the night and then it’ll be over.  Back to being the doc tomorrow.”

“You—”

“Is it okay that I’m sitting on your car?”

He was taken aback by the abrupt shift in conversation, blinking and frowning in confusion.  “What?”

“I lathered a shit ton of glitter lotion on myself before I left,” you explained.

Bakugou looked down to your legs, glistening under the moonlight, an entire galaxy dotting every part of your legs.  You lifted your thigh and saw the sparkly smear on his car.  

“What the fuck.”

“Sorry,” you said.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” he grumbled.  “I’ll take it into the carwash tomorrow.”

“I’ll pay,” you offered.

“I said it’s fuckin’ fine, Jesus.”

“Why are you being so nice?” you asked suddenly.

He glowered at you, looking annoyed by the question.  “Why kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“The asshole kind,” you deadpanned.

“Well, I’m not that kind,” he muttered.

You peered at his expression, seeing something on his face that you hadn’t ever seen before, something sentimental, or soft, or delicate.  “What kind are you then?” you prodded.

He sipped his beer, glancing at you.  “The kind that gets fuckin’ annoyed,” he replied, “but not the kind that would fuckin’ leave you while you’re crying.”  He was glaring at you from the corner of his eyes, but he looked sincere, and if Bakugou had shown you anything from his shouting and his scowling, it was that he was earnest in his worst—and best—of moods.

“Oh.”  You didn’t have anything else to say, looking down at your hands.  You picked another piece of chicken, a small and crispy one, and popped it into your mouth, chewing absentmindedly.  It was more for the alcohol than hunger.

You suppose there was a lot you didn’t know—about the people around you.  About anything.  You hadn’t been sure that Yo would've picked you over Tatami, but you hadn’t been sure that he wouldn’t have, either.  You had been sure that you could wait, could hold off long enough until he found his way back to you, but you were wrong.  And you hadn’t expected Bakugou to be the one to swoop in and help you, but he had—he did—he was.

You wondered what else you would get wrong tonight, or for the rest of your life, and you thought this feeling should perhaps leave you hopeful and excited, but, instead, your chest felt empty and aching.

You looked from the fried chicken in your lap to Bakugou leaning forward, resting his elbows onto his knees, to the gentle ripples of the ocean water, the reflective night sky unexpectedly cut by a pod of jumping dolphins.  The chilly night was backdropped by the music blaring from the clubs all around and the stars all above, and there were goddamn dolphins playing in the gleaming waters—it was so romantic, so dreamy, so perfect, the entire fucking thing.  You couldn’t do anything but curl into yourself and cry, thinking, stupidly, that you wanted Yo to be here beside you, sharing this meal and this beer and this soft October night.

The chicken fell out of your lap, and you had just enough sense to tighten your hold on the bottle, or maybe you just wanted something to hold onto.

You felt a hand on your back, rubbing lightly.

“…Do you want a hug?” Bakugou asked, his voice low and gruff and the sweetest thing you had heard all night.

“Yes,” you whispered.  “Yes, please.”

He gently pried the bottle from your hand and placed it aside, and then he opened his arms to you.  You climbed into his lap, burying your face into his neck as you sobbed, seeking a warmth that you weren’t going to get from anyone else.

You cried about Yo.  You cried about the mean things you had thought about Nakagame in moments of cruel jealousy.  You cried about all the boys that had picked smiles more beloved than yours.

Just once, you’d like to hear it.

Just once, you’d like to be someone’s first choice.

Just once, you’d like someone to touch your face, and cup your cheeks, and sigh against your mouth—it’s you—it’s you—it’s always been you—it’ll only ever be you.

And as if he could hear it in your cries, Bakugou murmured kindly into your hair.  “One day.  It’ll be you one day.”

You didn’t quite believe it.  Logically, you knew you couldn’t say it was impossible, but it was the same way you approached ghosts or miracles—they were there, but they weren’t.  You couldn’t say never, but you couldn’t say for certain either, and wasn’t that answer enough?  That you couldn’t confidently say yes?  That you couldn’t look at something and say it was a miracle, but it was so easy to say it only a trick of the light?

You cried harder, tightening your hold around him.  In response, Bakugou held onto you all the tighter, unaffected by your dress riding up or your legs straddling him or the glitter that was surely getting smeared onto his black pants.  He held you as fiercely as you wanted, loosening his hold when you loosened yours, contracting when you did.

After a while, you lost the energy to cry.  There was nothing left to give or heave.  The next breath you took, though shaky and unstable, didn’t devolve into bawling, and then, soon, with more exhales that didn’t trigger tears, you began to slowly calm.  Eventually, it was just your occasional sniffle and the heavy beating of Bakugou’s heart.  You felt him untangle your hair, shifting you closer on his lap. 

“I’d pick you,” he said softly.

“Not Uraraka?  Utsushimi?”  It was supposed to be a dry joke, but your cracking voice and your sniffling made it sound pessimistic and sad, like you believed that, in the grand scheme of things, you’d always be in someone’s shadow.

“Nah.  You.”

There was a finality there that soothed you.  A brusqueness that refused questioning. It was nice. Reassuring.

You closed your eyes, breathed in his scent—sweet and citrusy in the heated dark.  As your body relaxed, Bakugou tightened his hold on you.

Tired by the night’s events, you fell asleep for a moment.  You jerked awake when you felt drool pooling at the edge of your lips.  You didn’t know how long you had fallen asleep; it didn’t feel long, but you couldn’t be sure.  Bakugou was laying against the back window of his car with you still in his arms, his hand slowly running up and down your back in soft strokes as he stared at the stars with half-lidded eyes.

You sat up, disentangling yourself from his hold.  “Sorry,” you said, wiping your mouth.  “I—I think I drooled on you.”  With the alcohol fading and the cries subsiding, you immediately felt an embarrassment creep into your chest.

“It’s fine.”  He had one careful hand on your hip to keep you steady as he lifted himself up with his other hand.  “You ready to go?”

“Bakugou—really, I—I’ll just Uber…”

“Shut up,” he grunted.  He helped you down and then gathered the trash to dump into a nearby trashcan.  Before you could open the door, he opened the passenger side for you.  “Get in, crybaby,” he said, gruff voice ending in a lilting tease.

“Too soon, asshole,” you grumbled.  You looked up at him and rubbed at your runny nose with the back of your hand.  His shirt had some wet spots on it, but he looked impeccable; you, on the other hand, must've looked like an absolutely disgusting mess.  

“I feel really gross,” you said, attempting to laugh as though that would ease the embarrassment.

You expected him to agree, but he only looked down at you.  His left brow was raised, trying for something hard and stony, but there was half a smile curling at the corner of his lips.  Emboldened, you sent a hesitant smile his way—and then you caught sight of a familiar dark head of hair across the parking lot.

Yo stood at the club entrance, staring at you and Bakugou.

Bakugou, seeing you avert your eyes to somewhere behind him, turned around and saw Yo as well.  He looked back to you. 

There was a silent question in the air—would you go to Yo?  Would you go back?  You had told him that what he was doing wasn’t fair—but what if he changed his mind?  What if he finally picked you?  What if—

You looked from dark brown eyes to bright vermillion ones.

Then, wiping at your sniffling nose, you sat inside the car, and Bakugou, after checking that both your legs were in, closed the passenger door.  He ignored Yo as he walked around the car and got into the driver’s side, something you thought was wildly mature.

“Text me your address,” Bakugou said as he closed the door.

“What’s your number?” you asked.

“You never saved it?” he asked, nose flaring.  “I fuckin’ texted you last week about my gear.”

“You rarely hire my company to adjust your tech,” you said, scrolling through your messages until you found the unknown number with the choppy messages lacking any type of normal human etiquette.

“What does that fuckin’ matter?” he muttered.  “Fuckin’ save it this time.  And hand sanitizer’s in the compartment; don’t think I didn’t fucking notice you wiping at your snot the entire night.”

“Shut up,” you muttered.

As mature as he had seemed earlier with not yelling at Yo, you should’ve known that it wouldn’t have lasted for long. Bakugou couldn’t help but give in to his hotheaded instinct, to his mean streak. As he pulled out of his spot, he pressed his middle finger against the window at Yo’s furious face. The car sped off with you clutching your side in the passenger seat, laughing and gasping for air bittersweetly, wrapped still in his citrus scent and tenderhearted whispers.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

under the stars together (part one)

hey. this is the longest thing I've ever written. if you want to just jump to the smut it's pretty self-contained so feel free to just read those chapters.

part one/ part two/ part three/ part four/ part five/ part six/ part seven/ part eight/ part nine/ part ten(smut)/ part eleven& epilogue.(smut)

werewolf!OC x Fem!Reader

warnings: Daddy issues AND Mommy issues, mentions of illness and surgery, acts of violence, mentions of blood & gore, smut, werewolf smut,

word count: 1,300 (for this chapter, 20k~ when all is said and done)

summary: the sun is hot on your face as you ride into the unknown. home is to your back and you don't know what the future holds. Just how you like it. You've run here all on your own, and there's nothing tying you down, It would be so easy to pick up and start running again. It's freeing, It's terrifying. You could run, but you're choosing to stay.

You were 30 miles away from home when you stopped and pulled to the side of the road. "stopped" was a light way of putting it, you had almost fishtailed off the road and barely got control of yourself again before deciding to pull over.  You cursed under your breath looking around at your surroundings. The rain had overtaken the road, there was a good inch of water over the pavement and the dirt shoulders were nothing but mud. Your motorcycle couldn’t make it in this. You took a steadying breath and took off your helmet turning your face up to the clouds, letting the onslaught of rain wash away the sweat from your brow. The rain was all wrong here, warm and heavy, not at all like the summer rain you were accustomed to. You couldn’t even tell if the wetness on the back of your neck was rain, sweat, or just the humid air pressing in on all sides.

You were in the middle of nowhere stuck on the shoulder of a two-lane highway. You thought bitterly of the way your father had laughed when you told him you were leaving, maybe he had been right, that you weren’t grown up enough to make it here on your own. Or maybe he just checked the forecast, you snapped at yourself. 

“Come on, you’re a big girl, what do we do now?” you said aloud to yourself. 

You leaned against your bike and considered your options. you could keep driving, either to your mother’s house or back 20 miles to the last town you’d passed through. You took another look at the road and quickly ruled that out, you’d hydroplane and crash long before you got to either place. You could call your mother, who was expecting you and would happily get in her car and come to your rescue, no matter how exhausted she was. You didn’t like that option either, it would mean abandoning my bike here on the road until the storm died and worse, relying on your mom. 

You thought of the last time you saw her. Her skin and eyes had turned yellow, she was thinner than I’d ever seen her, except for her stomach which bulged with her sickness. No, you couldn’t ask her to help, even if she would love to. 

You could wait, but who knew how long this storm would leave you stranded? you didn’t need the rain to stop, just die down you reasoned. 

There was a flash of light, you almost thought it was lightning but it didn’t fade. Headlights, you realized as your next option pulled closer. 

“--Hell of a night to be caught outdoors haven’t seen a storm like this one in years no ma’am haven’t seen a storm like this since, gosh musta been back nineteen years-” The driver babbled on. He had introduced himself as Sam Tucker, and he’d been nothing but kind, even going as far as to let you load your bike into the bed of his pickup. His voice had a thick southern twang that you had to fight to keep from imitating. You crossed your arms and held yourself close and nodded along to his rambling about the rain.

This truck really wasn’t so different from your father's, old but sturdy, the kind that had one long bench making up the seats and the gear next to the wheel instead of in a center console. The cracked leather felt familiar under your fingers, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke reminded you of home. 

Your parents had gotten divorced before you were even born your mom getting pregnant was a big part of that divorce. your dad never wanted kids, but your mom wouldn’t get rid of you, so they separated, and in a cruel twist of fate, the courts decided that your mother was unfit to raise a child and dear old dad got saddled with you. 

He told you that story every time we took a road trip to see her. At first, it almost sounded like he was joking like he didn’t know he wanted a child until he had one forced upon him, now of course you were older and knew better. you tried not to think about your father or the dull weeks you spent with your mom during winter vacation as a child. 

 Now that you were somewhere dry you were starting to feel the wet sink into your bones, you shivered and Sam noticed. 

“Shoot I’m sorry Ma’am you must be half-frozen here-” He turned the truck’s heater on full blast. 

“Thank you kindly, Sir,” you said as politely as you could muster and gave him a weak smile before folding back in on yourself. You had never been called Ma’am before, you were only twenty. Sam seemed nice enough but he still scared you a little bit, the way all older men tended to scare you. You pressed your ankle to the inside of your boot, feeling the hunting knife safely lodged against my leg. you felt better knowing that you could protect yourself if things took a turn. 

Your father’s voice echoed in your head, Don’t like going into town without a knife. You couldn’t help but glower at my feet. You hated being like him, even in small ways, like carrying a knife. 

“Where are you headed to Miss?” Sam asked, pulling you from your thoughts, you hesitated for a moment before answering,

“Ultimately I’m trying to hit Sunfield, but honestly sir just drop me off at the nearest town and I’ll be fine,” you told him. He grinned at me

“Well, I’ll be! I’m headed to Sunfield myself, won’t be any trouble at all. Say, Sunfield ain't a big place what’s bringing you here?” he asked with enthusiasm you wished you could match. 

“My ma- my mother, Is sick,” you had to fight from adopting his southern accent now.

“Oh,” he said and the silence hung between us for a long time. You slicked your wet hair back and absently whipped your hands on your jeans before realizing your clothes were also wet and it did nothing to absorb the moister. 

“What did you say your name was again Ma’am?” he asked turning away from the road for a split second to face you. He must have been trying to place your face, not an easy task in the dark. 

You repeated your name deftly.

“Hell, you’re Nicole’s girl?” he asked a little disbelievingly. 

“That’s me,” you admitted. you should have known, Sunfield was a small town of course he would have known your mother just by last name. 

“Shoot, I knew she had a girl about your age but, don’t take this the wrong way but, you don’t look like your mother,” he laughed. you had gotten that a lot. 

“I take after my dad,” you said bluntly. 

“Shame, she used to be such a happy woman, even if she doesn’t drink anymore she’d still come down to the bar every Friday and have a good laugh with everyone. Now she's just too tired to come out,” his voice had grown softer, you had to strain to hear him over the pounding of the rain. 

“You’re here to help?” he asked when you didn’t answer. You had to bite your tongue to keep from snapping at him. Sam had been kind to pick you up, he was your mom’s friend you should be nice. You didn’t want to talk about her.

“Help, and give her half of my liver,” you said bitterly. Sam let out one short laugh. 

“Your mother is lucky to have you, I don’t think my boy would do the same for me,” he said. Then smiled and pointed to the sign welcoming us to Sunfield. For the first time since you were twelve, you were home.

[veinsandknuckles]

You’ll just have to learn the hard way, pt 6

Brad Bakshi/cis f!Reader part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 (explicit) PG From a distance, Brad seems like a perfectly nice (and distractingly handsome) man. When you start working at Mythic Quest, he catches you looking on your very first day and happily lets you misunderstand him; by the time you realise what he’s really like, you find yourself already entangled.“Friends” to enemies-with-benefits, conflicted feelings, hate fucking with a slow build and all that good stuff.

----------------- You’d expected Brad to let you stew for a while after that encounter. In fact you’d almost hoped he would because you needed the time to recover. No matter how closely you watched yourself or tried to distract yourself with more important things, you couldn’t stop the memory of how his touch had felt, how that deceptively soft voice of his had sounded in your ear as he toyed with you...

But the very next day, he sauntered over to your work station and stood watching you until you stopped what you were doing.

“Can I help you?” Forcing yourself to sound calm and unconcerned took every ounce of strength you had.

“How would you like to have dinner with me this Friday? I have reservations at Le Foie Heureux.”

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but this definitely wasn’t it. As the heat rose up your neck, you turned to check if anyone was listening in. No one was. It sounded as if he was suggesting a date, and that made you instantly suspicious.

“During work hours?”

His eyes narrowed. “No, that’s called lunch.” There was absolutely nothing in his look or voice to indicate he gave a single shit what your answer would be, and nothing whatsoever to betray his motive.

“What’s this about, Brad?”

“Wow,” he snorted. “Was it really that long since someone asked you out?”

God, the look on his face. He actually seemed to believe you’d jump at the chance to be subjected to his insults and condescending looks for an entire evening. “Am I getting paid to be there?”

“Are you a call girl?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting at this desk.” One job was bad enough.

“Then I don’t see why I should pay you.”

You gave him a look and let your silence speak for itself.

“Alright, suit yourself,” he relented. “Let’s go old school and call it ‘working overtime’.”

“Fine.” You were starting to sweat. You thought you’d called his bluff, but he seemed determined. What was the catch? “You have my number.”

“But if I am gonna be paying for the pleasure of your company, I think it’s only fair if I make some demands of my own.”

“I didn’t m-“

“Wear something cute. Not slutty, but... you know.” He waggled his hand. “Not not slutty. And play nice, you wouldn’t wanna make a scene in a place like that”

You clenched your fists, just to maintain your volume control. “How about I just don’t show up?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

What did that mean? “And are you planning to play nice?”

Brad grinned. “Oh, you know me. I’m always nice.”

------

There was only one way to find out what the hell Brad was planning and so, after reminding yourself you could storm out any time you wanted, once Friday evening rolled around you got a little dressed up (flattering, but erring on the conservative side - there was no reason to give Brad everything he wanted), did some soul searching in the mirror and climbed into the ride he’d ordered for you with only some mild trepidation. Typical of him not to bother collecting you himself...

It was a cold evening and the clouds looked heavy. Perhaps it would snow tonight.

The car came to a halt outside the restaurant. It had already looked intimidatingly fancy when you’d googled the place, but seeing it in person you were even more sure you’d stick out like a sore thumb.

Why would a miser like Brad choose a place like this? He’d probably end the evening by pretending he’d misplaced his wallet.

You thanked the driver and texted Brad you’d arrived. You wouldn’t put it past him to stand you up, just to make you look like an idiot, but when you walked towards the doors with all the confidence you could muster, there he was, waving the staff away and ushering you in himself.  Of course Brad looked right in his element.

“I was starting to think you’d stay home and sulk, just to teach me a lesson.” He looked you up and down. “Yeah, that’ll do.”

“Oh, just shut up.”

“That’s the first thing you’re gonna say to me? You promised to behave.”

“I promised no such thing.”

“Whatever. Are you coming?” He offered his arm; you eyed it with suspicion and opted to walk by his side at a very safe distance. “We’re right over here.”

You followed his gesture and saw, a few tables down, the only remaining empty seats in that half of the restaurant. Two free seats, at one table, but on the other side of the table sat two men you’d never met before in your life. They were talking amicably with each other and gesturing so broadly one would think they owned the place. To remove all doubt, there was Brad’s suit jacket, slung across the back of one of the empty chairs.

“What the hell?!” you hissed and grabbed his arm, digging your fingernails in through his shirt.

Brad didn’t seem to feel it. “Oh, didn’t I mention? I’m trying to grease up these two idiots and I figured, you know. Something pretty to look at never hurts.”

“Oh, I will kill you.”

“That could be fun. Can we just have dinner first, though? I’m trying to work my magic here.”

You’d both slowed to a halt, but that couldn’t last. The servers were trying to move around the two of you and you were right out in the open. Even in this rich, warm, golden mood lighting, it was just a matter of time before at least one of Brad’s intended marks spotted you.

“Am I supposed to know who these people are?”

“The guy in the grey suit is Gabriel Fairisles, the little guy is Fred Lawson.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything!”

“If you can’t be bothered to familiarise yourself with the most important names in your business, that’s hardly my fault.” Before you could reply or even begin to make a decision, Brad waved and caught their attention.

Storming out was still an option. But by your own suggestion, you were on the clock and when you’d pictured yourself walking out on him, Brad had been the one left looking foolish.

The man in grey - Gabriel? - stood up, arms spread out in welcome, adding another witness to the list should you choose to turn tail and run. It seemed that the only way out was through.

[maizumis]

Bestie😩✌️can you do a part 2 of where their child gets a Valentine but with Osamu, Yaku, Suna, Shirabu and u can choose the other one I don't mind😙tyty and take ur time🤠✌️

— HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN THEIR DAUGHTER RECIEVES A VALENTINE LETTER PT.2

ft. timeskip! osamu miya, yaku morisuke, suna rintaro, shirabu kenjiro, iwaizumi hajime

note: female reader❗plsss ofc I can bestie! shirabu was a challenge, yaku too 😭😭 I hope you like it!

part 1

•OSAMU was at the kitchen of Onigiri Miya when the door flew open and saw you and his lovely daughter in your arms "look a ma pretty girl! ya wanna have lunch here today bubbles?" the kid got quickly out of your arms to go hug her fathers leg "yeah daddy! wan’ sum yum’ ‘nigiri!" the smile on his face was full of love, he still can't believe what did he good to deserve the both of you "uh! daddy ya won't believe what happened to me today!" knowing what was going to happen, your hand went to your mouth to muffle your giggles "a boy, a pretty boy actually! gave me a letter and now he is my boyfriend!" the tall man stopped what he was doing, his attention fully in his daughter "no" the child confused "no?" "yeah, no boyfriend's for ya— actually we can go to another kinder right? new friends and stuff" as funny as the moment was, you needed to interrupt " ‘samu she's a child" his face dead serious, while chopping some vegetables "and a don't care— there's no way ma child gets a boyfriend, maybe when she's thirty"

•YAKU went to pick up his little girl after one week apart, he promised her over FaceTime that the exact moment he was back in Japan he would be with her "Sunshine! papa is here, I missed you so much!" he told her while bending over and opening his arms to receive her with a bug hug "papa! I missed you so much! I'm so happy to see you" picking her up with one arm while the other one was behind her neck to press her closer to his chest "me too darling, me too". little girl in his arms suddenly pops her head out of his chest ready to tell him what happened last week "papa! I got a valentine letter and a boyfriend when you were out!" he stops his way to the car, standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a fake smile and wide eyes "ahaha— very funny! you really got some jokes in there darling, so smart" she started signaling 'no' with her head "I'm not joking! look thru my bag and you gonna find the letter dad" he was spiraling to the car so he could see the damn letter, after his daughter was secured in the backseat and he was in the drivers seat, he in fact saw the little letter full of hearts and glitter "yeah— umh— no, we are gonna talk about this at home"

•SUNA had his daughter sitter on his lap, he was looking thru some sports clothes on his laptop while kids cartoon where on the TV "daddy?" "yeah?" "can I tell you something?" he raised a brow, eyes looking at her with a suspect expression "whatever you want, princess" she didn't say nothing, just got up from her seat went to the room and came with something behind her tiny hands "okay daddy, close your eyes" she carefully placed the letter on his hands "open them!" rintaro was so proud thinking his daughter made him a little draw of her perfect and loving family until he saw the initial of his daughter and other one with a plus between then, and a big read heart down it "what's this?" "is my promise letter! my husband made it for me and now we are married!" what are people teaching their kids this days? his girl was just his, a little more at least "nope, tell the boy the only man in your life is me" "but daddy! do you know how difficult a divorce could be?" he smirked before picking up her again and placing butterflies kisses all over her cheeks, little and high giggles all over the living room "I don't care angel, you're mine, only mine"

•SHIRABU was on his home-office when the little girl came running towards him with open arms "daddy! daddy! I missed you" he smiled a little before pulling back the chair so he could pick her up "I missed you too, darling. how was your day?" he finished the sentence with a peck on her forehead " ‘t was good, I got a valentine letter!" she got what? "I'm sorry darling I didn't quite hear you, what did you say?" the little girl sighed, knowing full well her dad listened to her the first time "I said, that I got a valentine letter and now I got a boyfriend" a boyfriend too? he didn't even date in highschool, he met you in college "did you know that Daddy doesn't let you have boyfriends? boys are smelly, I learned that in school" his child always, always, believed what he said, so she would dare to doubt his words "smelly!? I'm gonna break up with him tomorrow, after all I have you dad" his hands went to his girl hair, softly patting it before bringing her head to his chest "you're right darling, you have me"

•IWAIZUMI opened the door to find his precious girl sitting on the floor, drawing something in the coffee table while watching some tv, he carefully went behind her so he could have her a surprise hug "aaah! guess who got home!" he told there while tickling the sides of her body, little girl screaming his lungs out "dad! you scared me" he stopped, picking her up so he could give her a kiss "I'm expecting my welcome home kiss, missy—" his eyes caught the little drawing in the table looking at the barely well writing of 'i love you' "oooh angel, were you making me a letter?" she gaves him a confused look "nuh-uh daddy, that's for my boyfriend, he gave me one today so I want to give him too" he let her standing in the coffee table, looking amused by what she just said "and who gave you permission to have a boyfriend?" "do I need permission to have one?" hajime scoffed, of course, she actually needs permission to talk to a boy in fact, he is not gonna let anyone hurt his precious girl "yes and in fact, I'm gonna keep this draw for myself, I'm the only man in your life, the uncles too" now he had a single daughter and a beautiful draw, that wasn't meant for him, hanging in the fridge door

[whatisgodtoanonbeliever]

Ep 9 thots straight from the word document I made at work to organize them

1. Good afternoon, a daily reminder to not just KIDNAP RANDOM CHILDREN

2. Okay so her little pause when she saw Jun Ho – awkwardness after the feelings discussion?

3. THE EYELASH SCENE IS SO EARLY JESUS WE GOING FULL JEALOUS THIS EP I KNOW IT

4. Nothing like choosing violence in court when you’re the defendant

5. Okay I’ll be honest, the stubbornness of this man is annoying me right now, just while in court, work with Woo Young Woo for a bit then deal with the rest later

6. Every dinner scene in that restaurant just kills me; I love them all your honor

7. Jun Ho is immediately over hearing about this man, and at this point in the trial so am I

8. I just love how Woo Young Woo is so ready to put advice into actions. That being said, I too would be a little concerned about the violence of the chair pull out

9. Please tell me he didn’t drug the bus driver

10. Okay but carrying all those backpacks is impressive as someone who is very “I can totally make this in one trip”

11. Okay time to gag Mr. Defendant I would be SCREAMING if I was his lawyer

12. Nothing like the classic “let me do this or so help me” competition for who walks closest to the road

13. And rip Jun Ho he has no clue why this is all happening all of a sudden

14. I understand that there is a very different culture to children being out on their own in Korea (compared to my rural Midwest upbringing), but a loose child buying themselves food at a restaurant after dark stresses me out

15. I did not expect an exposure of some of the side effects on children due to how academies are run and the surrounding achievement at any cost culture, but I’m here for it

16. WOO YOUNG WOO’S FACE DURING THE SLOW-MO CHOI SU YEON WALK

17. Ah the classic “it’s for their future” what good does it do if their present is unbearable

18. If I wasn’t at work rn I would get a screenshot of that shot of Woo Young Woo through the orca’s bent fin, what a cool shot

19. Jung Myeong Seok I could kiss you (this is both in reference to right after the courtroom and in general)

20. Cry about it or leave Kwon Min Woo

21. “So the price of playing as much as I want, is a prison sentence.” All right, I’m giving him points here because that’s a valid concern of how the children will actually perceive this whole course of events

22. “we can use the bus to take the kids to court” is fine in context, but hilarious without

23. Bro Jun Ho is so stressed with all this, thank god he brought it up

24. NO WAY SHE HAULED ASS AFTER EXPLAINING WHY SHE WAS BEING NICE

25. Look, the defendant is right and quite frankly I like his ideology, but damn was hijacking a bus full of children a shit way to go about practicing it

26. Kwon Min Woo, please don’t IMMEDIATELY STEAL HIS FOOD

27. BABY HER SHOCK WHEN HE OFFICIALLY CONFESSED

28. STOP CUTTING AWAY WITH SCENES LIKE THAT I DON’T CARE ABOUT HER MOTHER I’LL BE HONEST. THAT CONFESSION WAS UNCALLED FOR

29. Fucking paparazzi dammit

30. Preview: we really getting into the thick of it now my dudes

[skiyoosmi]

post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021. reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

[es-kay-zee]

Backseat | Lee Know x Reader

genre: absolutely filthy smut

warnings: brat tamer! idol, sub! reader, afab reader, masturbation, choking, hair pulling, marking, handcuffs, pet names, degradation, praise (brief), humiliation, swearing, overstimulation, impact play, oral sex, interfemoral sex, fingering, use of the colour system. this is written under the assumption that all kinky acts performed have been discussed many times prior. consent is important and limits should always be discussed with any partner

requested: nope, this came from my own perverted mind

word count: 5.1k

taglist: @bxngchxn @jisungsplatforms​ @etherealeeknow​ 

a/n: welp, i definitely went overboard on this. count this as my apology for the angst lately. this is absolutely disgusting filth and i hope you enjoy :) this also isn’t proofread (i say like i’ve proofread anything i’ve written) so if you see any mistakes feel free to let me know and i’ll fix it :) also i was kidding when i said i'd finish this at 5am but it's literally 5.03am so that's a bit funny lol

 ____________________

To say you were annoyed with Minho would be only somewhat accurate. Frustrated was probably a better word. He’d been teasing you the entire time you were both out for dinner with your parents, spending a large portion of the time with his hand resting on your inner thigh. His touch had you on edge all night, especially when his fingers would occasionally migrate upwards, slowly stroking at your clothed sex.

He always seemed to do it while you were talking, catching you off guard each and every time. More than once your voice was cut off with a quiet whine and you had to come up with some excuse to your parents. You’re not sure how much they actually believed your measly excuses, but they didn’t question you further, probably not wanting to know what their child was actually up to.

Once dinner is over, and you’ve said goodbye to your parents, you and Minho head towards his car. You don’t speak to him the entire way, frustrated with him for having the audacity to tease you in front of your family. You weren’t truly upset with him, and he was aware of this. You were just embarrassed.

Finally reaching the car, Minho unlocks it and opens the passengers-side door, holding it open for you. But you weren’t about to ignore his earlier actions, wanting to play on your annoyance for one end goal in mind; being pounded into the mattress when you get home. And so, choosing your first act of defiance, you step past Minho and get into the backseat, slamming the car door behind you.

Minho huffs, rolling his eyes at your childish move. He closes the passenger door, walking around the car and climbing into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbles to life and Minho pulls out of the car park, beginning the 30 minute drive to your shared home.

You sit in silence, ignoring the glances from Minho in the rear-view mirror. It’s obvious that your act of climbing into the backseat has irked him, but you want to continue winding him up further. A devilish idea pops into your mind; the perfect way to tease him in return. You finally look forwards, making eye contact with Minho’s reflection. You smirk at him, and his eyebrows knit together in confusion, wondering what you’re planning to do.

You don’t leave him wondering for too long, propping one of your legs up on the car seat next to you, dress rising and putting your underwear clad pussy on display for Minho to see. You watch as his eyes flick downwards, quickly looking back up as he realises what you’re about to do.

“Don’t you dare. You know the rules,” he warns, his voice dark and threatening.

All his words achieve is making you needier. You say nothing, just continuing to stare at Minho in the mirror, as you bring one of your hands down, using your middle finger to rub circles against your clit. The small touch has you whining, the combination of Minho’s earlier teasing and the tense atmosphere in the car mixing to make you extra sensitive.

Your breathing slowly begins to pick up as your arousal grows, beginning to soak through the flimsy fabric of your lacy underwear. Your other hand comes up to your breast, groping yourself over your dress. Minho watches your brazen display, making sure to keep a watch on the road in front of him as well. You partly expect him to speed up, rushing to get you home and teach you a lesson, but he doesn’t. He stays steadily at the speed limit, not even once going over. He wants to drag this out. He wants to see just how far you’ll go with your little act.

And you’re more than willing to show him.

You slide your underwear to the side, quickly sliding one of your digits into your slick walls. Minho adjusts his rear-view mirror, positioning it to where he has a good view of your lower half. He watches the way you pump your fingers in and out of your pussy, curling the digits against your sweet spot. You exaggerate your moans, knowing how much Minho loves to hear you. And all you want is to get him as worked up as he made you.

The hand working on your breast slides down the front of your dress, and you pinch one of your buds, tugging gently before pulling your hand away and sliding it down to your clit. You press the pad of your middle finger against the nub, rubbing against it just as you were before while your other handworks your core. The combined simulation has you nearing your peak, your body beginning to tingle in just the way that it does when you’re close.

Minho swallows, trying to supress his groans at your actions. Your moans rise in pitch, turning into desperate whines as you try to push yourself over that edge and into bliss. You rub faster against your clit, but what is the true catalyst for your release, is the moment you make eye contact with Minho again. His eyes are dark, darker than you’ve ever seen before. And they hold a conflicting look, simultaneously begging to see you cum on your own fingers and warning you to stop breaking the rules.

The moment your eyes meet his in that mirror, you cum, body shaking as you continue fingering yourself through your orgasm, riding out your own high. You only pull your fingers from your fluttering walls once you’ve stopped trembling with pleasure, your body falling slump against the seat. Your heavy pants are the only sound in the car as you recover from your orgasm.

Another thought pops into your head. You’ve already come this far, what’s one more daring act? You bring your slick coated fingers to your lips, staring down Minho as you suck on them. Your tongue dances around your digits as you clean them of all of your juices. Only once your fingers are clean, do you pull them from your lips with a dull pop.

You pull your attention away from Minho, instead facing the window. Your breath hitches as you realise you’re only a few streets away from your shared home. The knowledge that punishment for your daring actions is only minutes away fills you with an excited fear, your pussy already trying clench around nothing.

Minho remains silent, no longer looking in your direction at all as he rounds the final corner before pulling into the driveway. He turns the car off, still not saying anything as he climbs out of the vehicle. He opens your door for you. Part of you want to remain defiant and exit via the other rear door, but you know better. You’ve pushed things far enough. You climb out the door that he’s holding open, swallowing dryly when he closes it gently. His actions are calm, too calm, and your mind whirls with the possibilities of what he has in store for you.

He locks the car and you both walk towards the house. You’re expecting him to do something as soon as the front door closes behind you both, but he doesn’t. He’s still too calm. He hangs the keys up on the key hook and takes his shoes off. You take yours off as well, watching him the entire time for any hint of what’s to come. You get nothing.

He starts to make his way upstairs towards your shared bedroom, and you know to follow him without him even saying or signalling for you to. The walk to the bedroom feels as if it drags on for hours, your heart drumming loudly in your ears, the sound of Minho’s footsteps seemingly echoing off the walls around you. Your hands grow clammy as the nerves truly set in, but more than nervous, you feel excited. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted the rush that being a brat provides, pushing all the right buttons to get exactly what you want from Minho. It’s been too long since you’ve been absolutely used, and you’re more than ready for the fun that’s about to ensue.

Minho walks into the bedroom, you trailing closely behind. He stops at the door and you step past him. He closes the door, something he doesn’t normally do, and you know you’re in for the time of your life.

“Strip.”

The sound of his voice startles you, the nerves having you on edge. You stare at Minho for a moment, eyes wide while your brain process what he said.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Authoritative. That’s the best word to describe the tone of his voice. Strong, commanding, it leaves no room for arguing, and you find yourself doing exactly as told. Even as your dress hits the floor, lacy lingerie joining it, Minho still doesn’t look at you. Instead, he’s busy rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up. His movements are languid, lazy, he’s taking his sweet time getting to you.

You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed with a huff, impatience getting the better of you. Even the view of Minho’s exposed forearms isn’t enough to keep complacent for a moment longer, and the sound of your huff is what finally makes him look at you for the first time since you orgasmed in the car.

His eyes are dark again, and it’s as if they bore into your very soul. He takes a step towards your sitting figure, unbuttoning one of his top buttons. If you were to ask him why he undid the button, he’d say it was to allow himself some more breathing room. But you both knew that the real answer is that it’s for show.

He stands directly in front of you and reaches one hand towards you. You flinch back slightly, not knowing what to expect after earlier events. He pauses, waiting for you to move back forwards, and it’s only when you do that he continues moving. He places his hand on the top of your head, gently stroking your hair.

The tug is unexpected. He waits just long enough for you let your guard down before he grabs a fist full of your hair and pulls. Hard. Your scalp stings, but you love it. The yank draws a whimper from your lips, and Minho smirks almost evilly at the sound. He holds you by your hair, head tilted backwards as he stares you in the eye.

“I wonder what I’m going to do with a whore like you,” he says, voiced laced with something akin to feigned sympathy. Pretending to be sorry for you over the punishment that’s instore for you.

“No, you don’t,” you reply, both of you knowing full well that he’s not wondering at all. He has plans for what to do with you, he’d had almost the entire car ride to plan.

“You’re right,” he admits. A small chuckle leaves his pretty lips as he still stares down at you. “Now get up.”

He releases your hair, and you slowly stand up. He switches places with you, sitting himself where you previously were while you stand before him. He taps his thigh with his index finger, and you know what he’s telling you to do. You straddle the toned muscle, lowering your hips until your pussy is resting against the fabric of his pants.

Your hands rest upon Minho’s shoulders while he leans backwards, his arms propping his body upright. You stay still, waiting for his go-ahead before you start grinding against his thigh. He doesn’t give it. Instead, he attaches his lips to the column of your throat, sucking harshly. He drags his teeth against your skin, making you shiver at the sensation. Only when the entire expanse of your throat and chest is covered in marks does he give you the nod to start riding his thigh.

The first drag of your hips has your body shuddering, the pressure against your clit delicious. None of the following grinds feels as good as the initial one, they feel great but it’s just not quite as electrifying. Minho leans forward, bringing one of his hands up to your face. He prods at your lips, prompting you to part them. He slides his index and middle fingers into your mouth, reaching as far back as he can and pressing down on your tongue, aggravating your gag reflex.

You choke on his fingers and all he does is chuckle, sliding his fingers out of your mouth. He moves his hand down, wrapping it around your throat and squeezing. The restriction to your airflow is euphoric, it drives you closer to your release. You adjust your leg, and your knee lightly grazes Minho’s bulge.

Your eyes widen slightly, it hadn’t considered just how hard your actions would make him. He hisses quietly at the accidental contact and you smirk. You know you shouldn’t do it, but what can you say? It’s too much fun being a brat. One of your hand moves south, cupping Minho’s constricted cock. He snaps. His other hand comes up and all you can register is the sting of your cheek seconds after his palm strikes against it. You’re still in slight shock when his grip on your throat tightens and he pushes your body away, forcing you off of him, only releasing your throat once you’ve slipped out of reach.

“Now you’ve broken the number 1 and number 2 rule.” The look in his eyes is lethal, you’ve broken the two most important rules all in one night. That’s a first. Usually, you could eventually persuade Minho to give in to what you want despite being a brat, but you had a chilling feeling that you wouldn’t get your way this time. “Kneel.”

Not wanting to make things worse for yourself, you drop to your knees. You feel small, Minho leaning over you making you feel like his prey. And you absolutely loved it. He grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb, tilting your face up towards him as he leans in close to your face.

“I’m gonna make you wish you were never a brat.”

The words seep into your core, his voice laced with a sweet poison and you know; you have to be good from here on out. It’s not often that just a sentence alone can stop your bratty behaviour for the night, but the way he says the words is nothing short of a warning that you’re not going to get what you want.

“But first, you made a mess on my pants,” he lets go of your chin, allowing you to look down and see the wet patch that your slick left behind on the fabric. “And you’re gonna clean it up.”

Your eyes shoot back upwards to look Minho in the face, unsure of exactly what he means. And he chuckles sinisterly at your confusion, absolutely loving that you don’t know what’s coming.

“Lick it clean.”

Your face immediately begins to burn as the realisation of what he said sets in. He wants you to lick your juices from his pants. You both know that your slick has soaked into the fabric and that you licking it will only cause a bigger mess, but that’s not what this is about. Minho wants to humiliate you. He wants you to be ashamed, for your face to burn in embarrassment as you do something so dirty as licking the mess you created from his pants.

And it’s working.

You’re slow to move closer to him, balancing yourself on your knees with one hand on his clean thigh and the other on the bed next to his other leg. You look Minho in the eye, silently begging him to not make you do something so humiliating, all he does in response is place a hand on the back of your head and roughly push your face closer to the mess. He doesn’t let go until your tongue is pressing flat against his pants, licking a stipe up the pre-existing wet patch. It’s faint, the taste of yourself, but the filthiness of the act has you moaning. You try to keep quiet, not wanting the further embarrassment, but Minho already heard you.

“Pathetic,” he spits out, and you moan again at the degradation.

You continue licking at his pants, and it’s not long before all you can taste is the fabric itself. Minho doesn’t care, however, as he doesn’t signal for you to stop. He’s thriving off of this, you can tell from the twitch of his bulge that he’s loving the sight in front of him. He lets you continue for a few more moments, before pulling your face away by your hair.

“Get on the bed,” he orders, and you do just that, scrambling to your feet and climbing on the bed.

You lie in the middle, your head resting against the pillows as you watch Minho stand up. He crawls up the bed until he’s hovering over you, and you feel so small under him. You’re caged between his arms but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You don’t think, just wanting to get this show on the road. You reach up, grasping one of his shirt’s buttons in your fingers. Minho is quick to react, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“You don’t fucking learn, do you?” He holds your wrists together with one hand, his grip none too gentle, as he glares down at you. You can’t help but cower under his glare, making you feel even smaller.

Without letting go, he leans over to his bedside table, opening the draw and reaching into it. You’re too busy staring at his face to register what he’s retrieving, but when you feel the cold metal and hear the steady clicking sounds of the cuffs closing around your wrists, your attention snaps above your head. He cuffs one wrist, sliding the connecting chain around the metal bar at the head of the bed before cuffing your other wrist.

You tug against the restraint, testing the limits of your reach. The way the metal digs into your skin makes you whimper, but you love it. Minho slowly runs his hands down your sides, groping at your thighs. His fingertips leave goosebumps in their wake, making you shiver in anticipation. He slowly moves his body down your own, until his face is right in front of your dripping core.

He places sloppy kisses to the insides of your thighs, occasionally sucking harshly on the skin before continuing kissing. You moan at the feeling, wanting to tangle your fingers in his hair and bring his lips to your clit. But you can’t. You’re subjected to Minho’s unwavering patience as you’re squirming under him. A harsh smack to the flesh of your inner thigh has you stilling, the small burn of the contact causing you to clench around nothing.

“Stop moving.” He goes back to his teasing touches, and you struggle to remain still. The tension in your lower half building to an almost unmanageable extreme.

“P-please.” The beg leaves your lips before you can stop yourself, and you can feel Minho’s smirk against your skin.

“Please what? What do you want me to do?”

“Please make me c-cum,” you whisper, completely embarrassed to be begging for anything from Minho. You expect him to laugh at you, to tell you that you’re not going to be cumming at all tonight as your punishment for acting up. But he doesn’t. He says something worse.

“Don’t worry, kitten. You’ll get to cum soon enough.”

It’s the way he says it and you finally know what he has planned. Overstimulation. Overstimulation isn’t one of your favourite things. You didn’t particularly love it, nor did you hate it. You and Minho had had the conversation a few times about what sort of punishments are allowed. Overstimulation had come up a couple times as something that you don’t love but can tolerate enough to allow as a punishment. He’d asked you a few times if you were sure, wanting confirmation that you weren’t going to allow something that you didn’t want. You’d assured him, saying that you liked it enough that you’ll let him do it on occasion.

That’s probably why he chose this particular punishment. You’ve been a major brat and while it’s got to be something you at least enjoy; it’s still meant to be a punishment.  

There’s no warning before his lips attach to your clit, immediately sucking harshly against the nub. Your hands immediately try to grip his hair, but they can’t. You whine, trying desperately not to buck your hips up further into Minho’s face as he licks and sucks at your folds.

    The metal digs further into your skin, uncomfortable, barely bordering on painful, but still entirely tolerable. It doesn’t take long. In fact, it’s embarrassing just how quickly he brings you to the brink of pleasure, dangling over the precipice’s edge, ready to tumble over into your second orgasm of the day. Minho keeps you there, dangling off that ledge just because he can. It’s one of his favourite things to do, to make that knot in your stomach tighten impossibly tight but not give you enough to let it unravel.

He’d done this to you so many times, he’s almost perfected his technique. Applying pressure that’s a fraction too soft in a spot that’s a fraction off from exactly where you need it. He loves toying with you, seeing just how far he can push you before letting you cum.

The bedroom is noisy, filled with the clank of the handcuffs’ chain against the metal bedframe, your desperate moans and Minho’s tongue lapping at your dripping folds. All the combined sounds mix together to create a filthy concoction that truly adds to the vibe of the night’s events. It’s arousing. But the only sound you can focus on is your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as Minho finally pushes you over the edge, allowing you to cum. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your body convulses with the pleasure, your orgasm more intense than any you could provide yourself.

Minho’s mouth doesn’t let up, not even after you’ve finally come back down from your high. The tingles of pain brought about by the overstimulation are almost overwhelming, but you don’t want to stop. You’re enjoying this more than you thought you would. But there’s no way you’ll tell Minho that; he’d never wipe the smirk off his face if you did.

He keeps going, adding his fingers to work your walls alongside his mouth. Your back arches, your body non-stop shaking, and by your fourth orgasm, there’s nothing you can do to stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. Minho looks up at your face, noting the fucked out expression and tear stains, and pauses.

“Colour?” he asks, voice soft and gentle for the first time since dinner.

Your brain is foggy, clouded over as you try to think, contemplating what to respond.

“Y-yellow,” you say, deciding it’s better to give yourself a moment for your brain to clear.

Minho pulls his fingers from your core in response, placing sweet kisses along your thighs, his hands rubbing your sides soothingly while he waits for your go-ahead to continue. It’s a couple minutes before you give him the nod. He asks you once, twice, if you’re sure. The last thing he would ever want is to do something when you’re not ready or don’t want to.

“I’m sure,” you say, smiling at him softly.

“Okay, just one more, kitten. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Any words you were going to say are immediately replaced with another moan as his lips reattach to your clit, his fingers delving deep into your walls once again. You’re sensitive. Far more sensitive than you’ve ever been before. And the fact that it only takes a minute for you to reach your release again just adds to all the humiliation you’ve experienced in the course of a single evening.

Just as he said he would, Minho pulls away once you’ve recovered from your orgasm, sliding up your body and connecting his lips with yours. His swipes his tongue across your bottom lip before delving into your mouth. You can taste yourself on him and you love it. You moan softly into the kiss, but it doesn’t last nearly as long as you would’ve liked before Minho is pulling away and climbing off the bed. You whine at the loss, but quickly shut up as you watch him finally undress. He undoes his buttons slowly, your eyes following his every move with such desperate desire. He tosses his shirt to the side, quickly ridding himself of his pants and underwear as well. He hisses as the cold air hits his throbbing cock, leaking a small amount of precum. Mentally, he had all the patience in the world to drag this out. But physically he was aching for a release. He climbs back onto the bed, quickly manhandling you so that you’re flipped over, arms crossed at the wrist, further restricting the amount of movement you have. He runs his hands over your ass cheeks, delivering a few well placed smacks to each before gripping your hips tightly. He lifts them up so that you’re laying there with your ass in the air and your face pressing into the pillows.

He reaches a hand down between your legs, gathering some of your wetness on his fingers. He wraps his slick covered hand around his cock, pumping himself slowly, coating his length in a mixture of your wetness and his precum.

“You know, if you’d been good, you’d actually be getting fucked tonight,” Minho says, feigning sympathy.

Your head snaps to face him as much as your position allows you to, your eyes wide as you realise what he’s just said. He chuckles almost sadistically at the look of confusion on your face.

“B-but-”

“No buts, kitten. You know that your actions have consequences.”

You whine at that, but you know better than to argue with him. You know that if you try to talk him into fucking you, then he’ll just make sure you don’t get a dicking down for a whole month. And that would be a nightmare.

He slowly drapes himself over you, holding himself up with one arm while he places his cock between your thighs, resting against your pussy. He uses his legs to push yours together, effectively sandwiching his cock at a pressure he desires. You whine again, your throbbing cunt aching for him to be inside, but you know you’re not going to get it.

Minho slowly begins to thrust, and the drag of his cock against your slit feels better that you expected it to. It feels good, nowhere near as good as if he were actually inside you, but still good nonetheless. He slowly starts to speed up, chasing his high that he’s been putting off all night. The soft grunts that leave his lips are music to your ears. You moan, as much as you love having Minho pounding into you, having him to this is still so much fun.

He continues to thrust, and you can tell he’s already getting close. All the build up to this moment had him painfully hard so it’s no surprise that he’s already near his end. What is surprising, however, is that you’re near your finish as well. You never would have expected his actions to feel this good and it has the knot in your stomach tightening. And Minho can tell from the pitch of your moans.

He adjusts his hips so that he’s rubbing against your slit harder, the head of his cock applying just enough pressure to your clit every time he thrusts forwards. The extra sensation is what does it for you, causing you to cum one final time with a particularly loud moan.

“You’re such a slut, cumming just from this,” he says breathlessly. He’s not far behind you, the feeling of your shaking thighs enough to push him over the edge. He thrusts once, twice more before cumming with a loud groan, burying his face into the back of your shoulder.

He takes a moment to recover before pulling away, slowly standing up and setting about cleaning you up. Your body feels heavy as he moves around you, and you barely notice him carefully unlocking the handcuffs and placing your arms on the bed. Hardly registering him moving you under the covers. He grabs a tissue, quickly wiping his cum from the top of the covers before ultimately deciding to just put it in the washing machine in the morning. He looks at you, smiling at your tired form. As much as he loves having kinky fun with you, he loves this more; being able to see you all sleepy and soft. It’s adorable.

He walks to his set of draws, quietly pulling out a pair of underwear and pulling them on. He turns back to you just as you lazily open your eyes. He heads back over to you, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Cuddles?” you ask quietly, looking at him hopefully.

“Of course, my love. I’ll just grab you a glass of water for the morning and then I’ll be right back, okay?”

You nod and he stands, quickly heading out to the kitchen and rushing back, glass of water in hand. Even though he’s gone for barely longer than a minute, you’re almost asleep when he returns. He places the glass on your bedside table before quickly climbing into the bed next to you. He pulls you into his chest, slowly running his fingers through your hair soothingly.

It’s nice, how peaceful the moment is, and it has you falling asleep in mere seconds. Minho smiles when he hears your quiet snores. He reaches over to grab his phone, being careful not to jostle you too much and he sets himself an alarm for a reasonable time in the morning while still making sure it’ll go off before you get up. He wants to make sure he gets up first so that he can make you breakfast for when you awaken. Only when he sets the alarm and puts his phone back down does he finally allow himself to close his eyes and fall into a peaceful sleep, holding you in his arms.

[misslavenderlady]

The Boys Who Wouldn't Grow Up - Chapter 3

Summary: Being the good brother that he is, Marko helps David get out and have some fun in Santa Carla. David is expecting good music, but little does he know there's a special someone he'll experience too~

I'm afraid my story doesn't have the iconic Sax Man™, but it does have the musical genius of Hall & Oates! For those of you who need a refresher, Maria is the employee at Max's video store that Marko, Dwayne, and Paul flirt with (in a deleted scene she trains Lucy in her new job)!

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A few days had gone by and barely a word had been traded between Max and David. Their conversation after their first dinner home had definitely soured things between the two, and while Max was struggling to figure out the best way to talk to his son, David was purposely avoiding his father at all costs. Marko was visibly uncomfortable with this, choosing to just spend time with either his grandmother or the dog to avoid asking about what happened.

Despite the efforts to maintain a sense of peace, Marko was starting to feel the itch of cabin fever from being cooped up in the house for so long. He hadn’t gotten any real chances to explore Santa Carla properly, and he thought it was stupid not seeing the place he was going to be for the rest of the summer. He didn’t have a driver’s license and David wasn’t willing to either give a ride or lend his bike so his only option was a 15-minute walk to the nearest section of the beach. 

Luckily, that path had gotten him far enough to find a bulletin board on the street across from the sandy terrain. It was littered with newspaper clippings, sketchy job postings, and an alarming amount of missing person’s posters. Hopefully, they were just for runaways and nothing serious.

After scanning all the papers, Marko finally found something that would help with the boredom. A concert was playing tomorrow night, and it was just the kind of band that both he and David liked. Snatching up one of the copies pinned behind the main page, Marko jogged home, excited to get himself and his brother out of the house for a night on the town. Surely this would put David in a better mood!

“No.” was all David said when Marko had shoved the flier in his face. So much for a better mood.

David was lounging on the couch in the living room with a journal in his lap and the history channel on a low volume for background. It was one of the few moments of peace he had in more space in the house. His father was busy on the phone with his work colleagues back in their hometown and wouldn’t disturb his solitude for a couple of hours. Of course, that didn’t stop Marko from bugging him.

“C’mon, David! Staying in here all day sucks! Some of us DON’T want to be hermits all summer!”

“Fuck no,” David emphasized, not wanting to be bothered any longer.

Marko let out an exasperated sigh, frustrated but not ready to give up. It would be better to try going with the emotional side of his brother.

“Look, man, I’m worried about you. Even though you’re a pain, I don’t like seeing you unhappy” Marko said. He reached out to push David’s journal downward, forcing the older brother to actually look at him when he was talking. 

“If you stay here you’re just gonna keep wallowing in misery, and I know that’ll make you feel worse. Let’s go and have fun, and forget all the other garbage going on”. Even if this was for Marko’s sake of getting out of the house more, there was some genuine care behind it. Despite their brotherly quarrels, he did worry about David and his well-being a lot.

David knew there was some sincerity behind Marko’s words, and it put a pang of guilt in his heart. Just because he was angry at his dad didn’t mean his little brother deserved that kind of treatment too. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

“Fine. But I’m driving us. You’re not touching my bike after the last time I let you give it a try” David said. He remembered how long it took to buff out the scratches after Marko didn’t put the kickstand down properly. Luckily, that didn’t seem to be a problem because he was so happy with the answer that a big, dopey smile spread across his face.

“Hell yeah! I’m gonna wear that jacket we got on our last vacation! I’m gonna look so damn cool!” Marko exclaimed, running off to prepare his outfit for the next night. David couldn’t help but smirk a little as he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the journal in his hands. Even if the concert didn’t make him feel better, at least it would put his little brother in a good mood. That definitely counted for something.

One of the things David and Marko had in common besides their taste in music was their taste in fashion. After David had drastically transformed his style and filled his wardrobe with leather jackets, dark shirts, and spiked jewelry, Marko followed suit.

He was pretty tame most of the time, but on special occasions, he loved breaking out the collection of elaborate jackets and fingerless gloves he had started collecting. He even learned some basics in sewing so he could add new accessories and patches to the denim jackets he had. Max didn’t understand their look, but it at least made the two happy to be creative.

Tonight was the perfect night to dress their best and have some fun. After putting together their outfits and accessories, the two went out to the concert on David’s bike.

Max had watched them pull out of the driveway from the kitchen window. As nice as it was seeing his boys out and somewhat joyful, it was hard not to worry about them being out by themselves. He sometimes saw them as small children, needing their hands held as they all crossed the street. Santa Carla could be quite crazy at night, and the last thing he wanted was his boys to get involved with local gangs or get mugged in an alley.

He wouldn’t admit it, but one of the reasons why he wanted them to be more mature was because he didn’t want them to be vulnerable and unwise to the dangers of the world. The better prepared they were, the more likely they were to follow the right path in life. It was difficult to find the right words to express that sometimes.

His mother must have been able to figure out why he looked so worried because she stepped up to Max’s side and put her arm around his shoulder. She smiled at her son and gave him a gentle pat.

“They’re not the only ones who deserve a little fun out,” she said. “Why don’t you go out for some fresh air, dear? It’ll help you clear your head”

Suddenly, a walk on the boardwalk sounded less scary and a bit more inviting. Perhaps Max had been spending too much time alone with his thoughts. A little exercise and a new environment would be for the best right now. Smiling at his mom, Max gave a nod and left the room to put on some sneakers before heading out.

The music at the concert was pumping with energy and power as it played over the massive crowd of teens and 20-somethings. Girls were hoisted onto the strong shoulders of the guys in the crowd to enjoy a better view. The light of several glow sticks and flames from lighters illuminated the darkness. The air was heating up fast because of the summer air and the people crowded together. All of the area was bursting with life, and everyone was feeling the rush.

Almost everyone.

The band onstage had been playing hit after hit for a good hour now, and while David had been liking the music, he was feeling his internal battery slowly drain. He had hoped to genuinely enjoy things and match the energy his brother had kept up, but he was still struggling. He wondered if other kids like him dealt with this. Genuinely wanting to try to have a good time, but their brains just not letting them. He remembered talking about it with the school counselor, but there hadn’t been enough time to go into detail about it.

Instead of jumping to the beat of the song with Marko, David had started smoking a cigarette, trying to relax a bit more. He knew it was a bad habit, but he tried to limit himself to just one stick a day. A little hit to make it through tough moments. 

Marko whooped and hollered with joy as the band started playing a cover of one of his favorite Hall & Oates songs. The keyboard was boosting his already high energy and he found himself swaying along. 

David gave him a small smile and nod, encouraging his brother to have fun while he enjoyed his smoke. 

“Aren’t you a little young for those?” a voice asked to David’s left. Surprised, he snapped his head in the direction it came from, coming face to face with a girl. Not just a girl though. A breathtakingly beautiful girl. 

She was shorter in height than David and looked at him with a gleam in her dark, brown eyes. Her hair had shiny curls that fell to her shoulders. Her almond-toned skin was practically glowing under the moonlight and she was dressed in a red-toned, strapless, bohemian dress. This girl was absolutely flawless from head to toe, and she had picked David of all people to talk to.

“Funny, that’s what the dealer who sold me them said” he joked, taking another drag, but being courteous enough to blow it away from her direction. Better try not to be as big an asshole as usual in front of the lady.

“You know, you have a really nice complexion, honey. Smoking will just take it away~”

The mystery girl reached out and brushed her fingers over David’s cheekbone, gentle with her long, painted nails. He could feel his heartbeat speeding rapidly, definitely not used to getting such intimate attention. The perfume on her wrist smelled of lilac, and it was already making him feel lightheaded in the best way possible.

He didn’t think twice before flicking the smoke to the ground and crushing it under his boot. Addiction be damned if it meant getting more attention from her. 

“You wanna dance with me a bit~?” the mystery girl asked. Funny enough, she seemed to be whispering, but he could hear her clearly over the volume of the band. David’s tongue couldn’t form the right words, so he instead wordlessly nodded and took her hand in his. The smile she gave him when he accepted was enough to stop his heart. 

Manic moves and drowsy dreams

Or living in the middle between the two extremes

Smoking guns hot to the touch

Would cool down if we didn't use them so much

The song was a perfect guide for the moves David and the mystery girl did together. Without even thinking, the hand that didn’t hold hers was wrapped around her slim waist. As he moved side to side with her, he felt his brain clouding, not thinking as it should, but just getting lost in the moment. When was the last time he felt this blissful?

We're soul alone

And soul really matters to me

Too much

As the two swayed to the beat together, she giggled, clearly enjoying the moves he was making up as he went. Her smile was the brightest he had ever seen, and he would have told her so if he wasn’t feeling so tongue-tied. It was so rewarding to let go and have fun. David truly felt like his best self right now. 

Just a boy with a girl without a care in the world as they danced. It was odd feeling himself smile so much as it had been so long since he had a reason to do so. 

You're out of touch

I'm out of time

But I'm out of my head when you're not around

He spun the girl around, feeling giddy from the laughter that escaped her. Their moves were growing bolder and the energy he had been lacking before was now free-flowing. She swayed so gracefully, almost as if she was floating on air instead of the ground. It was impossible not to be enchanted by her every move. 

She stopped suddenly, holding her gaze with David. The way she looked at him made his body go still, almost as if he was paralyzed. He had just met this girl and yet she had complete control over him. She seemed to be studying him as if she was taking in every piece of information about him without saying a single word. 

His heart was racing more than ever as the mystery girl leaned in and whispered close to his ear. The lilac scent was even stronger now. Without his own control, David shut his eyes and listened closely.

“Goodnight. I’m sorry…” 

Whatever spell David had been under was broken and he could move again. His eyes shot open, and the girl he had enjoyed the dance with was gone. He moved his head around in every direction, desperately looking for her. There were plenty of people in this crowd, but none of them were her. How the hell did she get out of sight so fast? He had opened his eyes as soon as she spoke, so there was no possible way for her to get far. 

Why did she leave? Why did she say she was sorry?

More confused and concerned than ever, David realized he hadn’t given her his name or even asked for hers. How could he be so stupid?! He wanted to end their moment on a better note, and if he was going to do that, he needed to find her quickly. 

He rushed over back to Marko, who hadn’t seen what happened but was instead still lost in the music. David clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. Marko’s smile fell when he saw how overwhelmed his brother looked. He knew he had gotten tense as the night went on, but now he looked a lot worse.

“What’s wrong?” Marko asked, stopping his dance to focus on his brother.

“Follow me. I need to find someone,” he simply said, taking Marko’s hand and leading him to the wooden staircase at the back of the venue. He figured since it was the closest exit, she might have headed to the boardwalk. It was still impossible how fast she had left, but he would do his best to find her. 

You're out of touch

I'm out of time

But I'm out of my head when you're not around

credit for the pics goes to quotev.com and mycast.io