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love-bitesx · 11 months

Note

I loveeeedd the last story Tysm ❤️❤️❤️ Keep up the amazing work 🌈

I have another request

Hobie x fem spider reader

Reader has a weird stalker ex-bf, and the reader tries to keep it a secret from Hobie but he finds out and deals with the ex.

: ̗̀➛ STALKER. hobie brown x fem!reader

any criminal minds fans out there … i hope u see the parallels of my baby spencer also i'm so sorry, i didn't see until after i wrote this entire thing that you said 'fem spider reader' so it's a fem normal reader, so sorry! i hope it's still okay, tho!! thank u sm for ur support angel !! summary: hobie & y/n have been doing long distance for months, but she never told him exactly why. words: 2.8k (the words just kept coming, sorry its so long lmao) warnings: fem!reader, pronouns not really used but "my girl", "lady", etc. are, read at your own risk! weird stalker bf, creepy fella, hobie n y/n are long distance, very very soft hobie

“when can i call you next, darlin’?” hobie’s voice was laced with longing, bass distorted by static at the other end of the phone.

“if you’re quick, we can call tomorrow after 5,” you smiled, and if you were in an 80’s romcom, you’d be twisting the phone cord between your fingers.

“5pm it is, don’t be late,” you can hear his smirk, and a bolt of guilt strikes your chest.

“look, i need to ask something, and i think i already know the answer,” hobie speaks, and you bite your lip in anticipation, “the band and i are playing at a new venue tomorrow, it’s the biggest we’ve played, we’re all dead excited, and…”

a sigh.

“well, it won’t feel the same without you there, pretty.”

if the first bolt wasn’t enough, then the second one lived up to it, striking you into the dead center of your heart. it had been well over 6 months since you met hobie. well, “met”. you’d accidentally called the wrong number one day, meaning to contact a friend of a friend, but typing the last number wrong. picking up at the other end was a deep, almost mesmerising voice, telling you; “no bother, darlin’. it happens, just make sure not to lose this number, wanna hear more from ya.”

“hobie, you know i can’t,” your voice is brimming with remorse and you look to the ground.

“i know, shit with your parents, i get it," he tried hard to hide the disappointment, but his heart twanged with neglect and it creeped through into his words.

parents. strict, all-demanding 'parents'. that's what you told hobie when you first started dating, that the reason you aren't able to see him was because your mother was overbearing and extremely protective – it was a lie. a lie that was eating you up from the inside out. the truth was slightly more grim, however.

years ago, you got involved with a guy at work. a couple brief conversations turned into dates, and dates turned into anniversaries, anniversaries turned into toxic, violent arguments and after a long time of dating, you broke up with him. to say he took it badly, was a criminal understatement. threatening phone calls, showing up at your work, sending you gifts and menacing letters – his signature move was scaring off, and even once harming, any man or potential love interest that you interacted with. it was exhausting, and terrifying.

and hobie was different. he was sweet and kind, but rough around the edges, and his voice dripped in passion no matter the topic of conversation. his promises were never empty, and most importantly – he loved you. and you loved him. the last thing you wanted, was your ex to pop up and scare him off, so you kept it from him. limiting your relationship to phone calls at arranged times incase your ex was keeping tabs.

“i’m sorry, hobie,” is all you could muster, not even scratching the tip of the catastrophic iceberg that wedged the back of your throat.

“it’s okay, darlin’, don’t worry that pretty little head over it,” and just like every phone call, you melted into his words, “i love you, yeah? i’ll call you tomorrow at 5.”

“i’ll be waiting,” you smiled, cheeks flushed at his gentle affirmations, “i love you.”

with a ruckus of movement, and what sounded like a kiss, the call ended, and you stared at the screen silently for a moment. not much longer could you avoid it, and the malten bubble of dread spilled into your gut.

sending him a quick text:

‘good luck tomorrow, handsome. what’s the venue called again? you’ll do amazing x’

you turned off your phone, discarding it on the bed as you climbed into the hole of guilt you’d dug yourself.

“oi, you ready, blud?” hobie’s band mate yelled above the bustle and cheers from the crowd before them. large, bejewelled hands poised onto his guitar strings, he smirked.

“always.”

with a nod to the roadie, the lights went up, illuminating the stage and instruments, hobie's glowing with a harsh red tint. immediately, his sepia eyes digested the crowd. seeing the flushed, excitable faces staring back at him sent a shot of confidence to his bones, and they moved, strumming the guitar with such vigor that the stage floor shook beneath his feet. cheers erupted, and yet felt oddly empty. it was missing something, and he knew what it was immediately.

he'd truly give his all to have you there, front stage in his eyeline, screaming his songs like gospel. not that he'd ever seen you properly, only seeing teasing selfies you'd sent him over the months you'd been together. he didn't care, inherently, he'd fallen head over heels for your personality; a pretty face was only just a bonus.

however, he did yearn for your touch. to feel his hands in your hair, to kiss your cheek, your nose, your neck. he longed to have you with him, even just doing stupid little tasks, having you by his side through the domestic side of life.

his gall spurred him on, his passion surging through his fingertips, spilling out into the sound waves. the audience were lapping it up, screams and chants only barely audible under the booming power of their set. song, after song, after song his talented blood seeped out onto the strings, and his feet were almost numb from the vibration of the bass.

the final song arrived, and his chest was burning, vision blurry, heart pounding against his chest – and he loved it. it was their biggest crowd, their most excitable achievement so far, and his blood pumped with adrenaline as he finished off the set, falling to his knees as he strum his guitar with one final chord. lights falling, his chest was heaving and his eyes scanned the audience one final time – you weren’t there. he had to accept that.

“that was fuckin’ sick, blud!” his bassist yelled as they exited the stage, palm slapping hobie’s shoulder blade and elicited a wide, ecstatic grin.

“you smashed it, mate,” hobie shouted back over the booming stereo that took their place.

“nah, man, you stole the show,” his bassist shook his head, patting him again in appreciation, “good that your lady’s here to see it, too, she must be proud.”

“i wish, mate,” he sighed.

“did you not see her?” his ears perked up, and at his confused expression, his bandmate continued, “over at the back, by the bar, i didn’t know what she looked like, but she was asking after you. ‘er story adds up.”

"shit," he mutters, feet solid on the ground. his heart pounds, skeptical of your presence, but chest bursting with hope that it just might be you, "look, bro, i need to–"

"go! go, man, go see her," his bandmate pushes him in the direction of the bar, and he almost stumbles over his own feet to push the stage door open, met with the chaos of the crowded bar.

dark eyes scanning the aimless faces, he searched for anyone who could look like you; his stature brought him above everyone else, only by a little, but gave him an advantage to seek you out.

"sorry, i need to get past," he repeated, over and over to unassuming bodies, setting through the chaos to find his peace. pushing out at the back, a wave of light met him, shining through empty pint glasses and illuminating the bar.

there you were.

standing quietly, head nodding along to the blasting instrumentals, drink in hand; you were heart-stopping. and he was pretty sure his did. even if he’d never seen you face-to-face, he’d memorised the soft plump of your lips, alluring light in your eyes, even the way your hair fell against your skin from the photos he'd seen. there was no doubt it was you, and my god, you were beautiful. he couldn’t even stop his legs if he tried, as they carried him over to you.

"y/n?" his voice barely travelled through the sound waves, but it hit your ear like a familiar embrace.

turning to him, eyes wide and bright in the twinkling of the bar lights. you drunk him in, warm eyes swallowing every part of him. you'd seen pictures, again, but it could never compare to him. dark brown skin, soft to its complexion, hugged his bones in every perfect way; folding at the creases of his handsome face. he was tall, very tall, and the detail of the curves and indents of his muscles, altered by the shadows of the dim bar light, made your head fuzzy. god, he was beautiful – nothing that a digital screen could ever portray with justice.

"hobie," your voice was crisper than he was used to, and he would bottle it if he could, "hey, handsome, you got a–"

"come 'ere," he interrupted, essentially scooping you into his tense embrace, melting into your scent, the feel of you in his arms. his heart was pounding against his chest. you wrapped yourself around him, running your hands along his leather jacket, ghosting the skin below it.

"you interrupted my introduction," you pouted against his shoulder, "had a whole little joke planned and everything, you know."

"go on, hit me, love," he pulled back a tiny bit, his arms still glued around your waist, looking down through his lashes. you faltered under his intense gaze, giddy smile bursting onto your face and you buried your head in his chest.

"nuh uh, not anymore," you shook your head against him, "you ruined it."

his hand came up to touch your face whilst you spoke, following the edge of your hairline and tucking your hair around your shoulder. he was in awe, having you here, having you with him. tightening his embrace, he didn't want to let you go – ever.

"mhmm," his voice vibrated his chest, and you pulled away, "i'm sure it was hilarious, love."

"it really was," you chuckled, giddy in his presence.

the air grew thicker, your laughter dying out and left with just his strong gaze, his dark brown eyes following yours. you could barely comprehend him being here, in front of you, around you, and he was so much more than you had imagined. feeling his calloused hand caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch, inviting him into your world. cupping your face, hobie bought himself to you, leaning down until his pierced lips were ghosting your own. months he'd dreamed of this, imagined how it would feel to kiss his girl, to taste your lips and feel your love. he could feel your breath, and you were about to give in, until you pulled away.

"wait, i–" you swallowed thickly, pulling your touch from him.

"what's up, darlin'?" his eyes scanned your face for any sign of reason, "did i do somethin'?"

"no! no, you," you sighed, "you're perfect, it's not you."

he'd be lying through his teeth if he denied the pit of anxiety building deep in his stomach, bubbling up his throat.

"what is it?"

"i–" you stuttered again, and fought to get your words out of your brain and into the thick air of the bar, "i haven't been telling you the truth."

silence. just for a second. hobie's brain working over time.

"look, if you've got another fella, or somethin', just get it over with–"

"no! no, hobie, i'm yours, i promise," your words settled him for a second.

"my parents don't care about us, they aren't strict, in fact, they were happy when i told them about you," you begun, opening the dam.

"they know about me?" his voice was smaller than you were used to, and if your brain had a spare synapse to process it, you'd probably have melted.

"yes, and i'm sorry i haven't told you," you avoided his eyes, "it's my ex."

"oh, fuckin' 'ell," he sighed, dropping his arms to his side, and he's about to speak, until you interrupt.

"we broke up years ago, but he's never left me alone," you ring your wrists with your hands nervously, and hobie notices – you looked terrified, "i've tried everything; i've tried the police, i've moved countless times, i've changed jobs, made new friends, met new people – he won't leave me be."

tears welled up now, and his heart reached for you, but his arms stayed stuck by his side.

"every guy that i meet, he's, i don't know, calling them telling them i'm someone i'm not, or following them home and slashing tires, or roughing them up outside pubs," paranoia enveloped you, and your eyes darting around the crowd, "i was so scared, because you're the best i've ever had, and probably will ever have, and i don't want him to scare you off."

"y/n–"

"and i understand if this has done exactly what i'm scared of, because i get that keeping it from you was awful, but i was only trying to protect you and–"

his lips cut you off, warm against your own, capturing your words and pushing them back down your throat. hands on your cheeks, body flush against your own, you melted into him completely. it felt like heaven, like months of tension and longing unravelling like ribbon into the wind. it was safe, gentle, like a promise – a promise that it didn't scare him, and that he was yours.

"is he here?" his voice was low, lips hovering yours.

"i-i don't know," you were flustered, your brain trying to make sense of it all, but his hand on the small of your back stopped any cognitive thoughts, "i haven't seen him."

watching him, hobie's dark eyes floated around the crowd, before falling back onto you. smirk on his lips, he placed a quick peck onto your cheek.

"hmm, i hope he enjoyed the show," he chuckled lowly, and you couldn't help but mimic it, relief flooding off your shoulders, "how about we go somewhere a bit safer?"

"like where?" you questioned, intrigued by the coaxing tone of his voice.

"well, i only live around the corner," he shrugged, before offering his hand. blushing, you slipped your hand into his, the soft skin of his fingers pulling you towards him, until he threw his arm around your shoulder.

"nothing could scare me off, you know," he whispered, placing a kiss to your hair, "i'm 'ard as nails."

"oh yeah?" you giggled.

"mhmm."

clothed eyes glued to the suspicious figure, hobie stood on a rooftop, footsteps silent as he follows the man below. tailing him through the cobbled back lanes of london, hobie's back tingled with apprehension – he'd been following him for at least a mile, waiting for a perfect opportunity.

and he'd finally found it.

pausing his heavy stroll, the man dug into his pockets and pulled out a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes, fumbling further for a lighter. a small orange glow lit up the air around him as he puffed away, smoke fluttering to meet hobie's nose.

silently, hobie swung to a platform below, pulling his guitar tighter against his back and dropped to the hard ground. the sound of his leather boots colliding with the cobble made the man turn in his direction, eyes wide at the sight.

"spiderman?" the man breathed between puffs, voice hoarse, "can i help you?"

"you know what, i think you can," hobie strutted, hands stuffed into his leather jacket, lanky stance towering him, "are you y/n's ex fella?"

"who's asking?" he questioned stupidly, and hobie let out a laugh.

"bruv, who's– are you stupid or somethin'?" hobie punched him lightly in the shoulder, "do you not see the whole get up?"

"the fuck have you got to do with y/n?" he spat, defensive stance taking over his body.

"none of your business," hobie knew that would sting, "but you're gonna leave her alone, fella."

"you don't know what you're talking about."

"i'm not askin', mate," hobie stepped closer, "and i'm not givin' you a choice."

before he could even utter a response, hobie had swung his spike-studded arm in his direction, knuckles colliding against the pathetic man's jaw, knocking him to the ground below.

"tha's my girl you're messin' with now."

#hobie brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk #spider punk x you #spider punk x reader #spider punk #hobie #hobie my beloved #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #across the spiderverse #hobie x you #across the spider verse spoilers

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onetoomanyfandomfixations · 28 days

Text

Hazbin Hotel Characters React to You Asking for a Hug (PART 2)

Buckle in bitches, its time for some COMFORT

Lucifer

Guys he’s SO nervous

“Oh really? You, uh, you want a hug from me? Are you sure?”

Nervous laughter 100

Takes a hot minute for him to adjust, but DOES give good hugs

WING HUGS. Y’ALL KNOW HOW I GET ABOUT WING HUGS.

Y’all gotta remember he’s a dad

So good, firm dad hug

His hands are clammy af, but don’t mention that pls

Gives you the opportunity to talk out whatever’s going through your head

Actually has really insightful advice

Like his daughter, honestly so honoured you chose to come to him

Lute

“Must I?”

Begrudging as FUCK

But she’ll do it

If she has to

Stiff, awkward hugs that last for 5 seconds tops

No wing hugs :(

“Human souls are weird”

Tries to teach you how to fight so you can use sparring as a “normal” coping mechanism

Adam

As much as I hate him, would give BANGIN hugs

“Fuck, you wan’ a hug? Fuck yeah bitch, get over here!”

Super enthusiastic about it????

Like, gives you shit, but its still one of the tightest and most excited hugs you’ve ever received

Very very warm

You will probably overheat if you stay there too long

WING HUGS!!!!!!!

Will be extra touchy with you from here on out

Arm around the shoulder, etc

Carmilla

Is she mom, or mommy? Jury’s still out on that one.

Will never ever refuse you if you need a hug

Will, however, try to pull you aside and make it a private moment

Not a big fan on PDA, but your wellbeing takes priority

Makes you rest your head against her chest, no matter how tall you are

If you tell her what’s going on, will fix it

You don’t even need to ask.

She’s gonna check up on you after at LEAST twice

Rosie

Is she mom or mommy part 2: electric boogaloo

Drops EVERYTHING

Ushers you into a sunroom and brews you a pot of tea to share

And grabs snacks, of course

Definitely forgets if cannibalism makes you queasy

Holds you hand from across the table and encourages you to talk it out with her

A lil bit pushy about it, but its from a place of love

But if you need it, will definitely hug you

Another one with bone shattering hugs

Her hands are cold af tho, so beware

Vox

Tbh doesn’t hear you the first time, he’s super focused on whatever else he’s doing

Once he hears you/it registers to him, he’s pretty confused

“Why do you need a hug?”

Only hugs you if y’all are really close

Generally not a touchy person

He won’t stop whatever he’s doing though

Most likely will just sit you in his lap, so he can cuddle And work

Multitasking, bitch

Don’t do it while he’s actively broadcasting though

Super against PDA (bc he’s embarrassed) and will probably snap at you if you break this boundary

Velvette

“Wot. Why?”

Also confused

Like Vox, usually to busy to properly hug you

But will let you stick around and lay all over her while she works

Anyone who questions it dies Very quickly, and Very grotesquely

Very protective

“Babes, do I need to hurt someone? Coz you Know I’ll do it”

Probs takes selfies of you hanging off of her bc she thinks its cute

Will dress you up to try and make you feel better

Valentino

Seek psychological help 💕

I know he’s got a sexy voice, but you know I’m right

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solitude4chiron · 10 months

Text

Hobie Headcannons cs some of y’all be treating this man like he’s some white goth nga that’s never had black experiences 😭😭 these are js off the top of my head so don’t tweak out… JUH VIBE

He’s most likely Jamaican/British or African/British because he’s from the UK

He has had multiple people try to force him into playing basketball at least once because he’s 6’5

“Man, so you telling me you ain’t never tried going D1?”

“Never even played.”

“NIGGA WHAT?”

Has gotten his hand popped multiple times from touching his hair while getting it done

“How many do you have left?”

“Boy move that damn hand.”

Gives horrible advice then says “but I don’t kno, thats just me”

“She cheated on me bru. Like cheated. Called me ON FACETIME while they was hunchin.”

“Me personally I would find the guy and start a gas leak in their house while his family is sleeping. But ion kno, that’s just me tho.”

Played soccer as a kid with a makeshift paper soccer ball

Was one of those kids who were forced to finish their plate before leaving the dinner table so he would sit at the table till the next day playing with his food

Illegally listens to and downloads most of the music he likes

“Wanna do a Spotify blend?”

“Y’all use that shi?”

“who df are you bro…”

Will side eye you till you burst out laughing if you both see something crazy in public

Sung chi-chi man religiously as a child before he knew what the song meant (iykyk)

Takes pictures of white people with braids or locs

Hobie: Attachment: 1

disgusting creatures…

Hangs trash bags on his doorknobs around the house

Had entire debates as a child with older people at the cookout on why he should be able to eat ribs instead of hotdogs

“These steaks for the adults, go grab a lil hotdog and a juice.”

“But why? Can’t we both eat and enjoy the same things without you having to dehumanize me and view me only as a child without preferences for food?”

“Boy go get that fuckin hotdog and caprisun get out my face.”

Had his hairline pushed back astronomically far when he was little (Nigerian boy canon event)

On the other hand he probably never had his hair cut as a kid and started free-forming when he was young (I’m conflicted between both)

Constantly had a smart mouth as a kid (he still does), like CONSTANTLY. Once he got his lips snatched and balled into a fist

Would steal, get caught and say is “it cause I’m black?”

“Yo, were you stealing back there?”

“Why bruv? Cause I’m black?”

“Nevermind.”

Touches hot ass food with his bare hands. Like he will flip pancakes with his hands.

Can literally sleep anywhere.. like anywhere. People in his band have pictures of him hunched over on sinks, sleeping on bathroom floors, in bathtubs with the curtains wrapped around him, on the bus. Anywhere you can think of.

He doesn’t spend much money on birthday gifts or gifts in general. He likes to make things by hand even if he has to spend a few weeks

After his shows he loves to meet people in the crowd, even if they freak out. He isn’t really for the idolizing so he doesn’t know how to express his emotions too much on that.

“OH MY GOD HOBIE!?!”

“i aint think i was that special but thanks luv”

• His jacket makes HELLA noise and he doesn’t realize it. Just like if he had beads in his hair.

“imma get bro good this time..”

“Hobie don’t even try to scare me, i hear that big ass jacket thumpin down the hallway.”

• The first time he kissed a girl with lip piercings like his, they got caught on each other. They sat there for almost half and hour trying to untangle each other without hurting each other.

• He’s definitely been called a few different celebrities before, none really looked like him.

“Are you playboi carti?!”

“Bruv.”

over.

“Your that rockstar dude lancey right?”

“bru…”

and over.

“you Opium?”

“I’m starting to feel this is lowkey sterotypical…”

and over again.

• When he’s in the pit at concerts he looks out for the younger people towards the front to make sure they don’t get thrashed around too hard.

“you good young’n?”

“I CANT FEEL MY FACE”

“that’s cool too”

• He only really steals from big corporations, not small family owned places. Just out of respect. Even when they say he can take things for free he still pays, maybe a few dollars over budget.

• He loves collecting trinkets and little things he finds on the streets or backstage. He has multiple spoons, buttons and scrap fabrics laying around

• When he first learned about capitalism he realized it everywhere, like EVERYWHERE. That boy was pissed.

• He loves girls who can beat him tf up, like whoop his ass. Or girls who will cuss him tf out. Sometimes you both will be arguing and he’ll just sit back and let you go off on him.

anyways yawl that’s it lmk if I should drop some more this was fun asl to make 😛

#hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie my beloved #hobie headcanons #headcanon #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk #spiderman atsv #hobart brown #hobie brown x reader

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marlenesluv · 7 months

Note

omg hi babe loved the oscar smut! i was wondering if u could do a smutty smau about him. like everyone thinks his relationship is so wholesome and sweet (like shes the picture perfect housewife pretty much), but then their sex tape gets leaked and its NASTY and like some photos get leaked and her ass is all bruised

Leaked. (OP)

hi!! thank you so much! and omg fuck, i love this?! i read this and had to start writing immediately.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

fc: no fc! j pinterest pics

warnings: i would say 18+, lots of sexual language, cussing, some suggestive photos

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts ^

liked by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 338,105 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/n.user: my sweet sweet boy and mimosas🧡

view comments…

oscarpiastri: i love you, my sweet sweet girl

↳ y/n.user: hmph🥹🥹

f1wags: the way she posts him >

user4: they literally have the most wholesome relationship on the grid

danielricciardo: i would actually like photo credits for the first photo😁🙋‍♂️

↳ y/n.user: i’m not adding that to the caption, but if ppl read your comment, they’ll know!!

↳ danielricciardo: oh😃

piastri.fp: y/n is so good for oscar. he’s so gentle with her, like wtf, don’t make me feel lonelier

user9: guys wake up, our fav wag j posted

f1editpage: this is why my page is full of y/n and oscar edits, they are too cute

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twitter:

F1 Updates and News @f1newsupdate • 3hr

Breaking F1 Oscar Piastri and girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N’s sex tape is leaked!! It has spread wide and far over twitter and porn sites already….

The couple has yet to post anything on the matter. But explicit photos have also been released. Fans aren’t sure what to make of this. No one expected Y/N, the innocent and sweet girlfriend, to be in this situation.

↳ Papaya Boys @papayaboys111 • 3hr

“explicit photos” mhmm. literally photos of her bruised ass 😭

↳ Monaco Bby @monacomylove • 3hr

no cuz the tape was hot, and anyone that disagrees is a liar. the way he kept slapping her ass and then throwing his head back when she gave him head? i’m deceased

↳ F1 Fanpage @formula1fp • 2hr

i agree, i mean, they filmed it and put sm effort, i have to watch!

↳ Y/N’s Fanpage @fpy/n • 2hr

when oscar ate her out and shook his head? when she grabbed his hair and pulled?? when he said “go on, baby. you’re such a good girl for me, arent you?”🫠🫠🫠🫠

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liked by: y/n.user, danielricciardo, and 401,239 others

tagged: y/n.user

oscarpiastri: whatever. at least we’re hot. you’re welcome

view comments…

user3: BRO SAID “you’re welcome”….. and yk what? THANK YOUUUUU

y/n.user: we did look so good

↳ oscarpiastri: we always do

f1wags: jaws = dropped (slay tho)

carlossainz55: i’m not even sure if i want to know

↳ maxverstappen1: seriously? you don’t know?

↳ carlossainz55: what happened??

↳ charles_leclerc: their sex tape got leaked

↳ carlossainz55: oh no! i am so sorry guys 😟

↳ landonorris: i don’t even think they care

↳ oscarpiastri: we don’t

y/nfp: y/n moaning is forever engraved in my brain now

↳ f1edits: oscar biting and licking her tits in engraved in my mind😵‍💫

↳ mclarenfans: how about when he said “come on, doll. you can take it, hm? my good girl.” 🫨

user7: you guys are really owning this, huh? as you should, it was hot and will be in history textbooks

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liked by: oscarpiastri, pierregasly, and 397,134 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/n.user: i guess we pulled a kim k👄

view comments…

user3: LMAO THE CAPTION IS ICONIC

oscarpiastri: come to bed so i can fuck you🤪

↳ y/n.user: 🏃‍♀️

↳ landonorris: have you two NO shame???

↳ oscarpiastri: not really

↳ danielricciardo: what do they even have to loose? their tape is already leaked, everyone knows

f1edits3: shameless, as you should be, that tape was hottttt

y/nfanpage8: everyone is talking about the tape, but not mentioning that it was literally 2 hours long

↳ papayaedits2: how is home girl even sitting? her ass was bruised as ffuuucccck

user2: these pics are slaying

oscarfans11: our girl isn’t as innocent as we thought, but i’m so here for it

francisca.cgomes: okayyyy, go off babe

↳ y/n.user: kikaaaaa

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liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 404,239 others

oscarpiastri: i’ll always kneel for my queen

view comments…

y/n.user: 👸

*liked by creator*

f1wagpage: SHE IS A QUEEN

user3: kneeling js like he did when he took her thing off in the tape🤭

↳ formula1page: with his teeth🫠

maxverstappen1: you’re so whipped, mate. also, answer my callls??

↳ y/n.user: he can’t, he busy on his knees

↳ maxverstappen1: oh my god🤦‍♂️ i didn’t need to know that

mclarenposts81: i’m deceased, their tape being leaked is the best thing ever cuz now we have unhinged y/n and oscar

lilymhe: literal “it” couple

↳ alex_albon: and we aren’t?

↳ lilymhe: erm, we are the best, but they are the “it” couple

↳ alex_albon: oh

↳ lilymhe: no alex, it’s not a bad thing. i love youuu

↳ alex_albon: okay, i love you too

_______________________________________________

snippet from interview with y/n y/l/n, talking about her leaked tape:

interviewer: “so, y/n, how did you and oscar react when you found out your tape had been leaked?”

y/n: “at first, we were a bit shocked and scared, wondering how mclaren and f1 as a whole would react. but after we realized that they didn’t care, since it was out of our hands, we embraced it” *laughs*

interviewer: “i see” *laughs* “were you afraid of friend and family seeing it?”

y/n: “oh, of course! but we both messaged our parents and told them so they wouldn’t stumble across it and not know what it was.”

interviewer: “and how about now? you and oscar seem fairly content with the tape being leaked.”

y/n: “well, of course it sucks, but oscar and i are hot, and we love each other. we’re secure in our relationship and our bodies, so we mind, of course, but we will continue to make light of it and joke around.”

interviewer: “i see. well, thank you for taking time to speak with me, y/n! enjoy the race, and i wish oscar luck.”

y/n: “of course! and thank you! have an amazing day.” *smiles and stands up and walks toward oscar and lando*

_______________________________________________

liked by: oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, and 387,031 others

y/n.user: back to our innocent posts (for now)

view comments…

user6: not sure if that’s what we wanted, but we love content no matter what. you guys are the cutest

oscarpiastri: my pretty girl ❤️

↳ y/n.user: my pretty boy ❤️

↳ oscarpiastri: oh yeah, i’m gonna need you to say that more

f1updates: you guys are too damn hot, wtf

y/n.fp: oh, we’re back to innocent oscar and y/n

danielricciardo: once again, photo credits for the first one

↳ y/n.user: what is up with you and these photo credits??

↳ danielricciardo: they are good photos and people need to know that i’m the one that took them

user9: i js wanna hear oscar beg to cum in her again

↳ user5: i just rewatch LOL. its like my cocomelon

georgerussell63: oh finally, i can go on instagram again

↳ y/n.user: you’re so dramatic

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri smut #f1 smau #18+

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nxrrislando · 1 month

Text

SNOW ANGEL ೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 c.leclerc

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 — ᝰ.ᐟ SMAU

PLOT ━━･❪ When he embarrasses himself in front of a ski instructor and even after laughing in his face, he still takes a liking to her: only to discover she’s the cousin of another driver ❫

WARNINGS ━━･❪ everything written is fake and for the purpose of entertainment, mature language, not proofread ❫

key info - anything with ‘ ❀ ’ means speech is in french as it makes more sense for two people who both speak french to communicate in their native language rather than in the second language of english, however I speak no french and would be unable to translate mass amounts of text, will be translating smaller parts tho with an app so translations may be wrong!!

my fics

( INSTAGRAM POST — JANUARY, 2024 )

yourusername

uploaded a post — 4h ago

liked by yourbestfriend, pierregasly and 234 others

yourusername noël à la maison, retour au travail🤍

view all 61 comments

francisca.cgomes the prettiest instructor 🫶🏻

yourusername love you kika, visit soon xx

username I wish this was my life bro

username did you have a good Christmas break?

yourusername I did thank you, hope you did too pretty💞

username idk who you are, why you accepted my follow request, why you’re followed by an f1 driver and his girlfriend BUT im glad you did your feed is unreal

( IMESSAGE — JANUARY, 2024 )

pierre🫡

1 new notification — 16s ago

❀

( TWITTER — JANUARY, 2024 )

astonsainz

published a tweet — 2h ago

( INSTAGRAM STORY — JANUARY, 2024 )

yourusername

posted on their story — 1h ago

viewed by pierregasly, and 379 others replies to your story

yourbestfriend hmm?

| yourusername laisse-moi tranquille

username laughing in that poor persons face is cruel yn.

| yourusername I laugh at everyone falling over can’t help it it’s funny

❀

pierregasly pretty sure it was Charles

| yourusername who?

| pierregasly charles leclerc. F1 driver, you know the sport your cousin takes part in…the guy I said was skiing? | yourusername you never told me which driver and now you just put his first name am I supposed to be psychic

| pierregasly anyway he texted me a little ago saying he just experienced something embarrassing, I’m assuming it was this

| yourusername well if he was surrounded by several people who looked panicked when he fell then probably

| pierregasly yeah it was him I just described what you put on your story to him and he asked if i was stalking him

| yourusername whoops tell him I’m sorry was just a funny situation😭

| pierregasly tell him yourself i gave him your number

| yourusername wtf pierre you can’t just give random people my number

| pierregasly he’s not random he’s my friend and coworker

| yourusername and now he’s requested me on instagram, why’d you give him that as well

| pierregasly I didn’t give him your Instagram, that’s all him stalking my followers to find you

| yourusername oh?

charlesleclerc is now following you !

( IMESSAGE — JANUARY, 2024 )

unknown

1 new notification — 9m ago

❀

( INSTAGRAM STORY — JANUARY, 2024 )

charlesleclerc

posted on their story — 3h ago

viewed by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 1, 348,991 others replies to your story

username oh to ski into the sunrise with charles leclerc

username where’s the rest of your team?

pierregasly Tu t'amuses avec ma cousine ?

| charlesleclerc tu n'as rien vu

yourusername J'ai passé un très bon moment | charlesleclerc demain à la même heure ?

yourusername

posted on their instagram — 2h ago

viewed by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes and 299 others replies to your story

francisca.cgomes pierre just said and I quote “what have I done?” I think you guys are cute personally

| yourusername he’s such an idiot it’s his fault anyway, thanks… but I don’t think we’ll get far cause he’s an f1 driver and I work 7 days a week at a ski resort till mid spring, we don’t have a lot of time together after this

| francisca.cgomes i think you’ll cross paths again before you know it, especially if you come to some races with me

| yourusername maybe idk

( INSTAGRAM POST — FEBUARY, 2024 )

charlesleclerc

uploaded a post — 4h ago

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,421,216 others

charlesleclerc will miss falling and the laughter that follows🗻

view all 3,677 comments

username the last photo? the caption? someone’s in loveeeee

username don’t say that he’s only in love with me username @ username confidence gave you delusions huh

username whos the girl?

username asking the real questions here

username my man is so pretty

username pre season training turned into spending time with this girl really?

username hes a grown man, he can do both not that it’s our business

pierregasly 🤔

charlesleclerc 😊 username pierre you know something tell us username who is she what’s going on

( IMESSAGE — JANUARY, 2024 )

charles

0 new notifications — 0s ago

❀

( INSTAGRAM STORY — MAY, 2024 )

yourusername

posted on their story — 23h ago

viewed by charlesleclerc, francisca.cgomes and 307 others replies to your story

❀

charlesleclerc I’ll be there to pick you up when you land, it’ll be really nice to see you not just over a phone screen

| yourusername awww that’s so sweet I told you you didn’t have to tho you’ve got a busy weekend coming up with your home Grand Prix I just want to be here to support you that’s all

| charlesleclerc I didn’t have to, I wanted to yn

| yourusername thank you charlie🤍

username oh to be able to afford wifi on the plane (I have like 50p to my name)😞

❀

yourbestfriend if you don’t come back to France as his girlfriend me and him are going to be having words

| yourusername woah ok slow down, we don’t even know if we could make it work for the past 3 months we’ve just been talking over facetime and that’s been harder with our schedules than I thought it would be

| yourbestfriend girl anyone with eyes can see you’re obsessed with each other, you two would do everything to make it work based off that alone, don’t let it hold you back

yourusername

posted on their story — 7h ago

viewed by yourbestfriend, francisca.cgomes and 314 others replies to your story

username um hello?? are you watching pierre race??

username are you dating Charles leclerc? I know we haven’t spoken in a while but the internet is going ballistic over a girl in his garage that looks suspiciously like you, just confused thought you’d be in Pierre’s garage if I’m honest

❀

yourbestfriend uh social media is going crazy people are discovering your Pierre’s cousin and believe you’re dating charles

| yourusername i can tell my follow requests are going insane, I knew it would come eventually especially since I’m his girlfriend

| yourbestfriend WHAT?! GIRLFRIEND when did that happen

| yourusername he took me one a date last night and asked me🫣

yourusername

posted on their story — 2h ago

viewed by yourbestfriend, francisca.cgomes and 366 others replies to your story

pierregasly you are welcome, if he breaks your heart I break him

| yourusername please you could never you’re too much of a softy

| pierregasly watch me. he tries anything and I swerve him off the track

| yourusername he’s reading over my shoulder and staring blankly at your threats

username um who is this??

username we all know it’s Charles a series of photos were leaked like two hours ago of you to holding hands, him kissing your forehead etc.

( INSTAGRAM POST — JUNE, 2024 )

charlesleclerc

uploaded a post — 3h ago

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 1,887,911 others

charlesleclerc mon ange de neige

view all 6,788 comments

username there’s no snow?

username lol that was my thought but apparently they met because she laughed at him when he fell when skiing and the he discovered she was Pierre’s cousin who worked as a ski instructor, the nickname is probably related to that

yourusername mon amour🌸

liked by author !

username accept my follow request please username you’re so pretty wtf

pierregasly Vous me rendez malade tous les deux

yourusername shush charlesleclerc 😘

username CALLED IT WHEN HE POSTED HER SKIING WITH HIM

username down bad

username after like a month if soft launching he’s only gone and done it🙏🏽

username the way he’s obsessed with her, it’s so cute

@edwardslvrr🫶🏽

#f1 fanfic #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader

723 notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 11 months

Text

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her.

Murder and sex ensue!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Graphic depictions of violence; Murder; Blood; Gore; Threat of SA; Impotence; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Loss of virginity; Virginity kink; Breeding kink; Spit kink; Rough sex; Pussy slapping; Dark!Joel; Mean!Joel (also kinda crazy and pathetic); Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Discussions of suicidal ideations; Unreliable narrators; Alcoholism; Consensual non consent kind of (But not previously discussed - they're both into it tho); Use of misogynistic language; Grief

A/N: Hi :) Another one just bc I have no self control.

Parts of the narrative read a little disjointed and/or confusing. This is intentional. I was kind of trying something weird out here, I guess.

Word Count: 9.7K

Read on AO3

The first time Joel sees you, it’s a Thursday. His least hated day of the week, but not his favorite, for he doesn’t really have any favorite things anymore. Your eyes’d stunned him at that first look. They sparkled as if dusted with frost – speared him with an intensity that burned.

But no… that was a lie, and Joel is trying not to be such a liar anymore. He does have one favorite thing now. This middle-of-nowhere diner, this place where’d he’d found you.

The first time he’d actually talked to you, you’d interrupted his own stubborn, sour silence with a silence of your own. Different, agonizing, compared to your usual persistent fishing for his attention.

“What’re you doin’ out here in this wasteland, sweetheart?” Because you look sweet as that cherry pie you’re always trying to push on him.

“Been here my whole life.” It’s verging on evening, the sky gone to melancholy, and there’s a young girl with dark hair weeping on the shoulder of an older woman in the booth over. He wants to snap at her, demand to know what the fuck she could possibly have to cry over? He’s sure she mustn’t have a dead daughter like him, and so there really seems to be no reason for tears.

“No plans to leave?”

You shake your head, hum a little, set the coffee pot down on the edge of the table to pop a hip out and think on your answer. “Guess you could say I’m a little bit weak or scared, don’t know.”

“Doubt that,” a surprised laugh forced out of him. Entirely improbable, he knows this just by looking at you. “You’ve got eyes that seem as if they’ve never held fear within them in your entire life.” And he makes you laugh at that, head thrown back, throat rippling. The sound like the tolling of the bell indicating the start of the rest of his life.

When you’re done gifting him your laughter, you ask, “What about you? Why are you here?”

“My daughter died.” Plain.

Your eyes seem to shutter or flicker, something like a chimera about them, “When?”

“Two years ago.” He watches the crying girl and the old woman get up to go. And then the two of you are alone. You move to sit in the booth across from him. He’d been coming in here to see you for more than half that time since, and now, the first time the two of you are having an actual conversation, and this is what he’s decided to open with. But really, it’s the only story he has to tell anymore. He watches you watch him for a long moment, as though you’re searching for something within him, or mulling over what it is you want to say to him, the shift of your jaw from side to side as you chew on your words. He feels easily frightened now – fragile – and yet vibrantly malignant, at the same time. A juxtaposition on two opposite ends of the spectrum of good and not so good, or perhaps, verging on very, terribly bad, in the grocery store line of human morality. Two Joel’s at the start and end of the queue who could not seem to come to terms with one another. Enemies – they were enemies of each other. A Joel who’d once had a daughter, and a Joel who now did not. A Joel who’d pulled a trigger at his own temple, and one who’d never even considered such a thing. He draws his finger along the line of scar tissue at his temple.

For a long time he’d wanted to tear a hole in his world and escape, but he was no master of inventiveness. On the contrary, he found his attempt rather miserly – had short changed himself at the last moment and flinched. But perhaps, it had been for this reason �� for you, to find you. He wishes he could peer inside your mind, crack open your skull and read everything you’re hiding away from him inside there. A violent thought, but you make him feel slightly violent, or – no, that’s not it – for Joel is already a violent man. It’s more that you pull a specific hue of violence out of him, incite it, like he needs to move, to howl, to claw at something, at you, scream and scream and scream to keep your undivided attention on him forever.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say finally, voice quiet. “How old was she?”

His loss. That was a funny way of putting it. It had never felt like a loss. The word was too small. Four letters was not enough to describe what it really was. There was no word for what it felt like. An emaciation of his very self until he simply ceased to exist. Something that had sucked his soul, his heart, his brain out of his body, but they didnt feel lost. They felt destroyed, decimated, or like they had never existed. Sometimes the feeling left him confused, disoriented – this strange purgatory he’d been relegated to, it was like it had never happened in his mind sometimes, or like it had happened to a different man. Like that life with that beautiful little girl with the green eyes who’d had a father who loved her, who’d then died, had happened to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Joel. Like a war that had raged and raged for centuries, and now nothing was left in its wake. Only that terribly fraught reminder of a violence too grotesque for a human mind to conceive.

How could he miss something, wish for something so, so, so fucking desperately he’d peel his very skin from his body himself to get it back, but also feel like it didn’t belong to him anymore? Like it had never happened to him, like he remembered it out of his own body? A dream that belonged to someone else, and Joel’d only been told of it second hand. His mind was fractured now, he knew this. He wasn't right – broken or glued together the wrong way. His bones didn’t fit in his joints the way they were supposed to anymore. He was all wrong and ugly and fucked.

“She was twelve.”

“My whole family’s dead,” you say it almost casually, with a half shrug of your shoulders. “Is that why you started driving? To get away?”

He’s been a long haul truck driver for going on two years now. Started just after Sarah – needed to get away, to get lost. He didn’t enjoy it – he does not enjoy it. Not because the work is bad or boring or what have you, but because he doesn’t enjoy anything anymore. But it’s productive and pays well and… well, he does appreciate the solitude. There is that, at least. He’d been on the route from New Mexico to Washington for several months now, and it was fine. Occasionally, he’d head up to the Dakotas – not so fine, longer, harder trek, but he managed it. He preferred this one, preferred the darkness of the north west corner of the country. He never went further south than New Mexico, though. Absolutely never into Texas. He’d never go back there again.

“Sure… to get away.” He couldn’t be there anymore afterwards, had nothing left. “My neighbor, Anna, she’s got a teenager, Ellie. Sweet kid. Weird kid,” he laughs fondly, remembering the two of them. “The kid was friends with my daughter, Sarah. And after everything– well, after everything, Anna made sure they both stuck around. Didn’t let me shut myself away the way I wanted to,” ill-shaven recluse, confused, fractured, “They’re good people. You’d like them, I think. They’re… they’re my friends.” They were another reason he kept doing the driving, he liked to send money back to Anna and Ellie. He knew they didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but he had to. He needed to feel like he was still taking care of someone, contributing to someone’s well being. It was just part of who he was.

“I’m sure I would.”

He watches your silent enrapture as you listen to him tell you of his pseudo life. After a while he’d realized that was all he’d started doing, making his way back to you, to this diner where you work. A sad place for ugly men to stop in on a pause from their interminable journeys and lay eyes on an angel. He hadn’t even really realized that’s what he was purposely doing or that it’d become a pattern. He just needed something to see at the end of the tunnel, a light to look towards when he was lost in the darkness. That’s what you are, a single flickering light in the abyss of darkness he exists in now.

You’re small – tiny compared to Joel’s own hulking size. He thinks he could break you, easily, if he isn’t careful, if he so felt like it. And you were – you are so fucking pretty. He thinks of you so often. Almost as often as he thinks of his dead daughter which might seem wrong or strange, but it’s really nothing more than the two opposite ends of a spectrum of perfect beauty that he’s known within his lifetime that now he cannot reach either end of. Sarah – dead, forever out of reach. And you. Too perfect for consideration, too beautiful and good for these monstrous hands of his. The thing he’s become in his grief is not worthy of a gorgeous creature like you. His existence post Sarah’s death had become some sort of apocalyptic dysphoria where the only monster here was Joel. But he does like to watch, and he does like to think of you. To come to your diner and sit and watch you serve coffee to your customers – the scum that muddles through here isn’t worthy of laying eyes on you – men like him. Sometimes, when he sits here silently, pretending to ignore you and not be entirely beguiled by you, he feels as if he has a purpose again, like the money for Anna and Ellie, getting to inconspicuously watch over you, make sure no one gives you a hard time gives him purpose. And when he goes, even though he never really wants to, he takes you with him in his mind through the long stretches of his hauls. When there are nothing but ghosts to keep him company. When thoughts of Sarah and that dead life become too overwhelming, he calls you to mind, plans his routes to make his way back to you.

You’re also fucking persistent – not giving him the chance to wallow away in his silence and brooding. He was rude at first, gruff and unresponsive and wouldn’t ever acknowledge your queries of, How’s it going today, and, Oh, back again I see. Sometimes he wanted to snap and just spit the truth at you, ‘course, I’m fuckin’ back, I’m here to see you, I’m obsessed with you. And rounds and rounds of, Can I get you another cup of coffee? The same as usual? You’d memorized his order. Pestered and pestered and pestered for his name until he’d finally ceded it to you, and, How ‘bout some cherry pie this time? After a while you’d gotten sick of his recalcitrant bullshit and just dropped off the piece of pie, slipping it onto the edge of the table and sliding away without a word or a half look back at him. He’d eaten the whole damn thing, savored it, and caught your sassy, little smirk after he’d finished. He’d wanted to bend you over the counter and spank your ass until you cried after that. He bets you’d taste as sweet as that pie, that if he slapped your cunt enough times he could get it red as a cherry. He bets you’d like that – that you’d like it a little rough, a little dirty, a little mean. You might look like an angel, but Joel’s seen the way you look at him, the way you follow him with your eyes, leaning against the counter, chin cupped in your small palm watching him eat his eggs and drink his coffee.

You want him.

But Joel is frightened – frightened and cowardly and not right, and as much as you look like an angel, he also worries you might have the ability to entice him into very, very bad things – to provoke him into depravity, even. There is a part of him, large or small given the day and the mood and the weather that he walks in here on, that has the rotten half of his mind whispering at the not-so-rotten half that he wants to defile and debase you, and that he’s pretty sure you’d like it if he did. He wants to fuck you full of his come and then watch it leak out of your used, gaping hole. Then he wants to lick you clean, kiss it all better so that he can do it all over again.

The first few times he’d stopped at your diner, he’d pretended he hadn’t even noticed you, would lie to himself in his mind and tell himself that he had no interest in a little thing like you. He had no interest in women, in making connections, in having conversations. Occasionally… well– no, not occasionally. Twice, it had happened twice now, when the urge had struck, the itch had become too persistent, and his hand not enough, he’d gotten a hooker. The first time he’d shut down completely, lost his hard on and not been able to finish. The second time… he’d finished. He might’ve even made the woman come, he hadn’t bothered to ask, but he thought he might have. Then he’d gone back to his truck and cried great heaving sobs. Like he’d said… not right, he wasn’t right anymore. Couldn’t even fuck a whore without blubbering like a baby. He’d wondered if perhaps his grief had made him impotent. That’d be funny. That type of funny thing that is also a humiliation… you know the sort?

But after a while, the lie had become too much of a farce, even for his own mind. He knew, from that first moment he’d walked in, and you’d spun around, a bright smile and chirpy, little voice telling him to sit anywhere you’d like, be right with you, mister, that he’d taken notice. More than notice. He’d put you in his pocket that day and had carried you with him in some way since. Like a stone chosen off the beach, washed up by the tide and deposited in the sand just for him to come across, or maybe like a fucking infection, like the plague, for he did not want this. He did not want to think of you. He did not want to think of anyone or anything. He wanted to be alone and without anything or anyone for the rest of his life. If he did not have anyone, if he remained alone, then he could never again experience that loss which was not truly a loss, but something much worse and devastating, and even, perhaps, a little hilarious, in that way that a hilarious thing can also sometimes be humiliating and shameful… there it is. A loss that is not a loss for it is a thing so devastating it becomes something else entirely. A humiliation to one’s very existence, a decimation, emaciation, all the things, all the things, and nothing at the same time.

His mind was wont to ramblings, on occasion now. Perhaps, incoherence, was the better word. Anxiety, as well, panic, tears. Couldn’t even fuck a hooker without weeping, howling, a few sobs.

He had wandered so far, and sometimes he thought, I want to go home, but of course, that home no longer existed. It had been put in the ground two years ago and lost forever. The dissatisfaction of constant ennui. He could, perhaps, return to the geographical place, but nothing familiar would remain. He couldn’t live with the memory, he couldn’t live away from it. It was like it had simply ceased to exist that day that she’d died, and every moment since that moment was just a series of moments filled with a yearning for some place that no longer existed. He didn’t think he’d ever again feel at home anywhere.

And yet…

He turns back to look at you.

“How did they die? Your family.”

“Home invasion – murdered. He never found me, hid in the boiler closet.”

“Little rabbit.”

“Hmm,” a huff of a laugh, “Maybe. Someone once said I was lucky. Pretty fucked up, no?”

“Do you feel lucky?”

“Never. Angry – that I’d been left behind.”

“Yeah…”

“Alone.”

“Are you alone?”

You turn back to him. Inspect him. He watches the slant of your eyes take in his hair, his face, wrinkled, haggard, his chest, his arms – he feels a flush flare beneath his ribs, then back up to his eyes. He wonders if you’ve ever been fucked before. You’re young – but he can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have been. He thinks he’d do anything in this moment to get between your thighs, but also, he hopes you haven’t, hopes you could be all his, only his, his his. Mine.

He hopes he won’t cry if he gets the chance.

“Entirely,” you say finally.

“I had– have– ” shakes his head, “I have, I guess, a brother. Tommy. But the last time I saw him… I was horrible.” They seldom saw each other now – lie – they never saw each other now. Truth, Joel. We’re telling the truth now.

You laugh lightly, shrug, “Happens.”

“Sure…”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Ah, just couldn’t get a handle on myself after everything. Things got bad enough eventually, and we fought… a lot. Violently. I was violent. One morning I got out of hand, terrible – one of my biggest regrets. We hurt each other with our words and our fists, and in that way only two people who know each other too well can. He cracked my ribs, gave me half his orange in the evening, afterwards – said our apologies. He was gone the next day. Haven’t heard from him since. I just got to be too much for him,” he says again, needs to reiterate it, make sure you understand that he is too much and too dark, too unmanageable – ugly. That you should not be sat here with him. That he has a violence within him, and that you should probably run as fast and as far as you can, but that he cannot promise he will not follow. “I had…” he is ashamed of this part, surprising for he sometimes wonders if he still possesses the heart to feel shame, “I had a problem with drink for a while – not anymore, though,” he says quickly. “I promise, not anymore.” He should not be promising you anything. “I got control of it – knew it was making it all worse rather than better. Felt like I was trapped underwater with my damn ghosts – that … What's that thing called when – when sick people get like – like trapped inside themselves or somethin’? You ever heard’a that?”

“Locked-in syndrome.”

“Yeah– yeah. I read about that once or heard it somewhere – that’s what it felt like when I was drinkin’ – fuckin’ terrible. Let it go after a while… but by that time… Tommy was gone, done with me. I was – dunno… like some sort of demon or somethin’ – somethin’ bad.” He huffs a small, derisive laugh, looks at you with that ridiculously charming, crooked half smile.

That laugh sparks a kindling of anger inside of you for him. This is a broken, angry, creature of a man, you think. Something fractured – not whole, and he must be handled with care and gentleness. “How could he just leave you?

“Didn't give him a choice. Sometimes people deserve to be left.”

“I wouldn’t have.” That sobers him, wipes the smile right off his handsome face. You think of the invisible giants hurting this man in some unimaginable fashion; of the endless tenderness coiled up inside of him and how the crushing of that tenderness – the death of it – has given way to what may be considered madness. Because after all these months of watching him, of him watching you, you can see it, recognize that tenderness for what it is, but also the madness, for it is impossible to ignore if you’re really looking. Soft marrow at the center of a hard man.

“I did other things… worse things.”

“Try me.”

“I tried to kill myself.”

You whistle, long and low. You actually had not been expecting that one, at least, not the admittance of it, “You’re just full of truths,” for looking at him – the sort of man he’s built as, the thought that he could be felled by anything, even his own hand, is a little hard to believe.

“Feels like a sort of confessional in this–”

“Shithole–”

“Diner–”

Your voices overlap. You both laugh. You think you quite like the sound of your voices intermingling one on top of the other.

“What happened?”

“Flinched–”

“I flinch all the time.”

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

You hum, tilt your head side to side on your neck as if you’re letting the thought slide from ear to ear within your skull. “Perhaps only the peripheral idea of it, but never with much imagination or dedication. I don’t think I have that much to kill myself over, you know?”

“Your family?”

“Not really – it’s sort of become just this… this thing that happened once. I don’t feel much ownership over it anymore. Don’t know why, exactly.”

“Sure, that’s how I feel about it sometimes too. That belongs to a different man now – like– like some actor or a facsimile, and I just look in on it as if from a distance. Enjoy the sight of someone else's suffering…” He shakes his head, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, no, I understand. Something to do in the way that a tragedy can be compelling to watch. You can let go, let go of your awareness of yourself and experience it in a way you’d never do so in the present moment.”

“A dissociation.”

“Yes. Why would you want to go and relive the basest parts of yourself all alone, over and over again? Not likely.”

“But it was me.”

“A dissociation,” you repeat, smile.

“Yeah,” he pauses, turns the coffee cup round and round with the slow spin of his wrist as if to dissolve the remains of the grounds you know the shitty machine has left deposited at the bottom. There is a small dusting of golden brown hair covering his wrist and disappearing up his forearm beneath his flannel. You want to taste it, follow the trail to places unknown. “Not so well adjusted, us two,” And he laughs then. A real laugh. He lets you have a real laugh of his, and it is powerful – special.

“Well… no.” Of course not. “I don’t think either of us could ever claim that.”

“Bet you’ve never been bad a single day in your life, have you?”

You cock your head, let your eyes slide from him to peer out the dark window. His lonely semi is parked under the single flare of light out there. The evening has sunk into a deep blue, the hue of mourning, of melancholy, and the pavement is wet with evening rainfall.

You'd heard that some trucks had spaces behind the seats where truckers could put a bed, have a place to rest. You wonder if he’ll take you back there and fuck you in his little bunk. And honesty is a fickle thing when discussing a topic like this, isn't it? There’s a depravity about him, and you can’t tell if the truth or the lie would placate him – incite him – more. To be similar in such a way as that which he’s imagining. A little bit of both, then. After all, intent holds weight – imagination, desire, it has a mass to it that can, if enough pressure is exerted upon it, be transformed into something else.

“Not yet,” you tell him, sliding your gaze back to meet his, “Haven’t had a chance – but there’s still time.”

“What would you like to do?” He wants to take a bite out of that soft flesh you’re encased in, draw blood.

“Something depraved?” You’re taunting him – trying to provoke. It makes him slightly angry, but also hard. You should know what it is you’re toying with here.

He frowns at you, at the lilting song of your words trying to beguile him into doing whatever it is you think you want him to do to you. “What is it that you think you want here? You don’t know what I was, how I lived. Shouldn’t be sat here with me, little girl,” he scoffs. “I was– was not– I don’t fucking know, not a man. I’m not, I’m not. Not a person anymore, just this thing that continues to exist. I should not have been expected to survive. This should mean something to you too. You also have no one. You’re alone too. You’re alone in the world. You know what it feels like to only live in the winter.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, and then you say: “I think I’ve come to quite like the winter.” And at that he knows he’s taking you for himself, whether you agree in the end or not. You’re going to be his.

But he knows he must also let this roiling anger, this depraved hunger settle before he lays hands on you. Like this, in this state, he’d be too rough, break you, nothing compunctious about him or his jaggedness. He excuses himself for a smoke, your only response simply more of that inciting silence – more thoughts of cracked skulls and a cherry red cunt and tears after failed trysts with someone who doesn’t even know his name. He’s fucking embarrassing. What would Tommy say if he knew Joel couldn’t even get it up for a paid fuck anymore? He’d laugh in his face, never let him live it down. He misses his brother very much. He misses lots of things.

He’s sucking on his Red under the awning of the diner’s entrance, imagining what it’ll be like to suck on your little clit, when he hears them.

“She’s usually out about midnight. We’ll snag her then.” Grating, guttural voice.

“But I get to fuck ‘er first. This was my idea so I go first.”

“Yeah, whatever. S’only happenin’ ‘cause of me. Too fuckin’ stupid to see the plan through after all these months of watchin’ ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Silence, and then almost with giddy elation: “We gonna kill her too?” Something cold and terrifying settles within Joel.

A beat, “Should we?”

“Dunno, man. Might be fun, huh? Never done it before.”

“She’s fuckin’ pretty,” the voice draws the vowel out in a high pitched, sacharine whine. “Got the face of an angel.” Joel’s angel, his, his, only his.

He’s got his Bowie in a sheath on the back of his belt. Perhaps, this would be a useful exercise in release. After he’s dispelled his excess energy he can come back and touch you, take you.

“Can’t wait to taste that cunt.” His cunt.

“Seen her tits, man? Fucking round and bouncy. Wanna make ‘em bleed.” And there’s only one avenue of consequence after that. After all, this is not the first time Joel’s done this.

His most well kept secret.

Sometimes, when the itch cannot be eased, abated, by his hand or a fuck or a drink or any of the other readily available vices, he turns to this. Only when the straits were dire. Only when he saw no other recourse. Only after his daughter was dead and in the ground and his brother gone away from him

But sometimes… sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s useful for a man to do that thing that he really feels he wants to do, if only to enjoy himself, if only to let go of some of that suffocating tension. If only to keep vermin like this away from an angel like you.

“We’ll chill in the woods for a while, wait the little thing out, yeah?” Joel edges his way towards the edge of the building closer to them, peeks a lone eye around the corner. Two men, middle aged. Not a problem. Not for a man like him.

He waits for them to make their way to the edge of the tree-line, watches them disappear into the gloom. He looks back into the diner through the murky windows. The warm glow of the overhead lamps washing you in a hue of golden light that brings out all the warm goodness in you he’ll take for himself once he’s snuffed out this issue.

No one’s going to touch you but him. No one’s going to hurt you but him.

As he rounds the corner of the diner there’s a piece of metal pipe propped up against the building by the dumpsters. Very nice.

He goes after them.

At the edge of the tree-line, under a swaying, low hanging branch, there is a tiny unfledged bird, helplessly twitching its way towards death in a puddle. He pauses to watch its struggle, gathers his skin about him, tightens his seams – prepares to gorge. He watches the inch by inch pilgrimage towards its last breath, then stillness. He feels so much older than his years, like he’s lived a thousand terrible years, watched a thousand terrible deaths. But there is a buoyancy about him, as well. Filled with a saccharine sweet fizz of sticky anticipation. He’s going to taste your cunt after this is done.

He moves into the gloom. He’s going to kill them for you, and his cock is hard at the thought.

Stepping beneath the canopy of the trees, into that cold, damp darkness, he sees the absolute truth of the world. On the heels of two men who’d do you harm, he knows that he’d failed to save someone he cared about once, he’d not be bested by failure a second time. Darkness implacable, the crushing black vacuum of their overheard words buzzing in his head like flies, of the harm they’d do you. Two hunted animals moving away from a creature much darker than they could even imagine, scurrying on borrowed time. What most moves him is that the things they’d do to you are not so dissimilar to the things he plans to do to you, as well. The only difference being that after he’s done defiling you, he’ll keep you for himself, with all the care and gentleness a little thing like you so deserves.

You press your ear to the cracked open door leading to the back of the building. It’s not the first time those two’ve talked their filth regarding you. The murdering is new, though. You’d not thought they were smart or inventive enough to come up with an actual kill plot. Rape enough of a hardball for minds as shallow and small as those two’ve got.

You’d never really considered them much of a threat. Or maybe you’d just never really cared enough to pay them much attention. But as you watch the broad, rippling expanse of Joel’s muscled back stalk after them, his pause at the tree-line to look down at something on the ground, you think he must be more in the vein of taking a stupid man’s shit talk to heart than you’ve ever been.

He has a thick, forearms-length of steel pipe gripped in his huge fist, and there’s a wicked looking knife strapped to his belt on the back of his hip.

Interesting.

You look back at the empty diner, the lonely parking lot beyond the glass of the windows, only Joel’s semi still taking up residence on the wet pavement. You turn back to follow after the three men.

One you want, two you’re interested to see what fate awaits them.

For some reason, when you step outside, you’re expecting there to be snow on the ground, but there is none.

You move across the pavement towards the forest-line, and the pilgrimage towards the verdant darkness feels very much like your one-way ticket out of this forlornness you’ve been trapped in your whole life. You’ve been stuck in this small town for so long, for too long. One man had already tried to forcibly evict you, had taken your entire family with him, maybe this one, maybe Joel, would do so in a way you’d more likely enjoy.

There’s been a steady, faint drizzle all day long, and the puddles of rain look like holes in the dark pavement, apertures into some other realm that glide past underground. You wonder if you stepped through if you’d disappear below into some other place. You wonder if he’d be able to find you even in that unknown other.

You cross the line into darkness.

The familiar terror of silence – you don’t seem to find it here. There is only the sound of your rushing blood, the cadence of his voice rumbling through your psyche, firing your neurons up into a frenzy. There is a twisting heat low in your pelvis, dampness between your thighs. What’s he going to do? Why’s he going to do it?Is it for me? Is it for me? It’s for you.

You let out a low whistle between your teeth and move beyond the trees. There is a giddiness about the darkness of the wood – the motley of shadows, the aroma of mushroom rot.

The familiar terror of silence. Perhaps, that is what they are experiencing now. The great horror of being set upon by a beast more terrifying than anything they could have ever conjured up on their own.

That infinite tenderness from before, that acute madness – it coalesces in the gap in the trees as you come upon the three men.

Joel has already started on the first. He murders almost tenderly. With great care, but infused with an aroma of agitated frenzy that seems flavored in the same notes of erotic buzzing that hums beneath your own skin. There is blood and viscera splattered on his face and clothes, in his hair. That great hunting knife embedded in the throat of the first man. The body lays facing you now, eyes open, shocked at his own death. Funny. Perhaps, that’s how they would have liked you to have ended up once they were through with you.

Oh, how the tune changes when the monster is on your side.

What are you? Be a creature. Be a creature. Be a creature!

You take Joel in. Thick, massive frame. You love his hair, it was one of the first things you’d noticed, thick dark curls streaked with the silver veins of his age and experience. Something that promised of care and knowledge and patience. His patchy beard with the heart shaped gap in it, you’re going to write your name into that space. His powerful arms, muscles coiled tight, his shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he brings the steel pipe up above his head, pauses to look down at his next victim.

“We won’t bother her anymore, never again – p– please, please, I swear,” the man on the ground begs and cries. There are tears and snot bubbling down his ruddy, pocketed face.

Joel is silent and terrifying and glorious above him, and then a small nod: “That’s alright… I believe you.” The metal comes down in a whistling arc, makes contact.

Flesh and blood splatter, the sound of it is pulpy and wet and vindicating. He starts with the man’s knees, then his head, caved in like the shell of an egg, the yolk spilling out like vermilion drool.

He heaves silently above the man that would have done you harm. Makes the threat go away.

You step forward, cunt pulsing and wet and eager for him. When he’s gotten his fill of bludgeoning he turns slowly back towards you, as if he’d known the entire time that you’d been stood there watching.

And the look on his face, it makes something electrifying and sticky buzz up your spine and ooze down your veins. You shift back on your heels

He shakes his head, his eyes are huge, pupils blown wide. “Don’t run,” he says slowly. If you hadn’t just watched him murder two men in cold blood – no, in your defense, he saved you, he protected you, fizzy heart full of satisfaction – you’d say he almost looks a little doe eyed.

A hollow pounding begins in his heart, as if it had remained silent for the past two years and was only now taking notice of its own silence. His cock, hard enough to burst, angry and throbbing beneath the confines of his blood soaked jeans. Fuck this scum laying on the ground beside him, look at what he has infront of him. Nothing else matters but you. A goddamned angel. Damned for he’s found you now and nothing good can come of this. He takes a step towards you, and you match him with one backwards, away from him, his blood starts to howl in his veins. Different to the humming frenzy that had filled him as he did his murdering. This is hot and viscous and ravenous, and he knows he’ll get to keep his catch once he’s gorged himself on it. He knows he’ll get to keep you once he’s caught you.

You take two more nervous little, quick steps away from him. Your eyes are slightly manic, face flushed, frame jittery, excited. A rabbit that knows it’s about to be caught. He watches the pause of your limbs as they fill with coiled energy, getting ready to make the bound and leap towards escape. He lunges, goes in for the kill, teeth bared, talons brandished.

Faster than you can even comprehend, he lunges, takes you to the ground with one massive, powerful shoulder to the vulnerable, soft of your belly, one huge paw cradled at the back of your skull to protect you from the hard ground. Your spine hits the cold, wet earth, the breath knocked out of you. You think you let out an animal noise, high pitched and supplicant. A thing that knows it’s been caught and is soon to be devoured. Your limbs scramble against the dirt, heels digging into the ground for purchase, you feel the loss of one of your shoes, as you try to get away or to crawl closer, who can be sure. A spider caught in the web or a larger, hungrier arachnid. He sets the huge heaviness of his muscular weight over your much smaller frame, one strong hand caged around the column of your throat, the other pushing your chest into the earth as he shoves his hips into the cradle of your own, forcing your thighs apart and your skirt to pool at your waist. You feel the stretch of the center plaque of your tights as his wide breadth settles between your legs, making room to take you for himself. You bring your own hands up to the wrist holding your throat and dig your nails into the skin there. You can feel the light smattering of hair covering his forearm beneath your soft palms, the cold, wet dirt beneath you, the searing stretch of the inner muscles of your thighs spread wide for him, the damp of the air surrounding the two of you. He leans forwards, pressing you down into the ground, and you have the fleeting thought that you want to transfuse yourself into the earth, into him.

He pauses then to look down at you, appreciating the gloriousness of his catch. “Caught ya.” And he’s filled with an exuberance, a sort of victory. Look at what he’s snared – all for himself.

You try and struggle again, if only to see the flare of annoyance in his eyes. It makes your cunt tight and achy. Even more than it already is. There’s a part of you that thinks you want him slightly angry – rough or mean. That you might like it even more if it hurts. Be kind enough to be cruel about it, you want to beg him. He leans forward to press his nose to your cheek, drags the cold vermillioned flush of it along your jaw, down the line of your throat, bites harsh and painful at your collarbone then over the peak of your breast.

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. It sounds very much like a threat.

“Yes.”

“Saved this cunt all for me.” And it is not a question. Yes, you moan anyways. Let him know. Let him know that this defiling is a gift you’re granting him. He sits up on his haunches between your thighs, his hands sliding down to press on your lower belly and digs his fingers into the center of your tights and pulls, ripping a hold in them for his pillaging. You try and press your knees shut at the feel of the frigid air on your sensitive inner thighs, dig your nails into the ground above your head to try and drag yourself away from him.

He digs his own fingers harshly into your flesh, his nails biting painfully into the soft skin of your thighs and ass and brings you back towards him. There’ll be streaks of pain left in his wake after this. Bad little rabbit. He smacks the inside of your thigh, watches the smooth flesh ripple for him. You let out a warbled, angry screech, little nails still trying to claw yourself away from him. He laughs then, a little mean, condescending. “Fight harder, little baby. This is pretty pathetic.” He rips your thighs apart, keep your fuckin’ legs open for me, his hands slick with the blood of his victims slide up the back of your thighs, anchoring his palms beneath the damp creases of your knees to press you open and wide for him, slaps your cunt, hard, over the soaking gusset of your panties.

“Who the fuck’re you wearin’ this tiny little thong for?” he growls. It’s white lace, with a sweet, little pink bow adorning the front. “Me? Wrapped yourself up all nice and pretty for me?” Your little foot sneaks up under his armpit and tries to push with, what he’s sure is all your valiant might, at his chest, trying to unseat him from his conquering position above you, but he takes your ankle in a vice like grip, bites harshly into the meat of your calf so that an animal squeal of pain is clawed out of your throat at the same time that he slots his fingers under the damp center of your panties. “Sing as loud as you want, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hear you out here.” He can feel the soaking wet seam of your cunt against the backs of his knuckles, and he rips them clean off you. The sound of the last remaining barrier of protection of your cunt against his ravaging being decimated has you going shock still – prey that knows it’s caught and has decided to give up. Good, this is how he wants you. Your big, wet eyes look up at him as he flings the lace towards the still steaming dead bodies. That’s all they’ll get of you. The rest is only his. Mine, mine, fucking mine.

You let your arms go limp above your head, soft and pliant and ready for ravaging, melting into the earth.

He presses your knees back and up, letting the red blossom of your wet cunt bloom for him. It’s slick and swollen, and he knows when he shoves his cock inside it’ll be burning hot. “Look at this gorgeous virgin pussy, baby. All for me. Only for me…” he murmurs, hypnotized, mesmerized. He drags the back of his knuckles over your slit, uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, admires the swollen nub of your clit. You’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. Messy, eager little whore. He moves to undo his belt and free his aching length. Huge and brutish, thick veins pulsing just beneath the thin skin. He’s going to split you in half, break you, mold you in his image.

He spits right onto your soaked folds, watches the thick glob of saliva slide down to mingle with your own leaking slick. He’s not even going to make you come first. Little virgin cunt and he’s not going to even bother getting you ready – just gonna shove the whole, unforgiving length of himself inside of you. Force you to take it. He fists his thick fist around himself, jacks his cock once, twice, squeezing at the bulbous head so that a trickle of precum seeps out of the slit. He presses his head to your clit, slides down to give you a small threat of pressure at your opening. When he looks back up at your face your eyes flutter shut, a look of pure contented submission washing over the gorgeous planes of you.

“Not gonna be gentle, baby. Don’t got it in me.” He notches the fat head at the slick mouth of your entrance and crams his cock inside of you in one go, meets that thin barrier that says you still belong to yourself and rips through it. Mine now. No reprieve, no respite. And God, the feel of it, cleaved in half, scorching hot, filled to the brim and never deep enough. He is a rabid, snarling beast of a man as he hits the very end of you, grinds his cockhead at the mouth of your womb. You let out a warbled, pained moan, little fingers coming up to claw at his throat and chest with kitten-strength, down to dig into his thick thighs as he pins you down, and you tilt your hips to let him in deeper or escape him, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. He pulls his hips back and forces himself back in, too thick cock wedged into the too tight space. “Christ, goddamn tight fuckin’ pussy – made for me,” he grits through bared teeth.

He fucks you raw and cruel, and he needs you to just lay limp and still and take it.

And you do. And he does not cry this time.

He sets a brutal pace, throbs deep in your belly at every pause as he grinds at your cervix. It must be painful for you, perhaps, but the flush in your cheeks, the fever in your eyes, the ripple of your cunt around his driving length tells him you also like it. “What a good girl, taking my big cock,” he coos. You preen, tilt your hips this time in supplication he’s sure, hitch your feet higher along his sides. There are tears running back down your temples and into your hairline. His cock makes you cry. If he could, he’d split your throat and drink, he would. But he cannot, so he’ll split your cunt instead. He thrusts into the hilt, complete negligence for care, for gentleness lost in the dark wood, for the desperate necessity of feeling your virgins blood coating his cock. Your protestations lost to the louder song for more, for harder, for deeper

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He’s going to listen to you sing his name for the rest of his life.

He feels unhinged, a thread picked at too many times, spun loose, unraveled and frayed. That edge that separates good and evil – his bloody fingers clamp down hard on the edge of your jaw, forces you to open for him, and he spits into your mouth – direct, dirty … warm. “Lemme see…” he rumbles, and you stick your tongue out for his inspection. Once he nods, pleased and smug and conquering, you close and rub the slick of his saliva onto the roof of your mouth with your tongue, savor the taste of him. This was the taste that you’d longed for… that which teaches you what that professed edge really is. Is he good, is he evil – he’d just killed two men, you’d watched him, cunt wet at the sight of it. Albeit to protect you… sure – but does it even matter? You swallow his spit down. Probably not.

He is huge and life altering inside of you. Your virginity scoured away on his invading length.

He leans forward, hand clamped around your jaw to pierce you with his manic gaze, like his cock pierces your cunt. He smells like the forest and sweat and power. “Little fuckin’ tease,” he grits, “Bringing me cherry pie like that all the time – fuckin’ provoking me. You just wanted me to pop your cherry for you. Didn’t you, little girl?” All you can do is nod dumbly and take what he gives you. He hooks one of your knees over his elbow, the other propped over his shoulder, foot bobbing limply at each slam of his hips. He has you bent entirely in half, cunt splayed wide open for him to fuck down into the deep, devastating end of you. Your vision goes blurry, black stars streaking across the back of your eyelids. All you see is him. Perhaps he’s all that exists now. Maybe you’re just as dead as the two bodies laying beside the two of you. You wonder peripherally what the sight of the four of you must look like. Joel’s hulking form fucking you like an animal into the dirt. You open your eyes to look up at him, there’s blood splatter across his face, in his hair. His skin is burning hot against yours. You think that perhaps you’ll have scorch marks in the shape of his fingers in your skin after he’s done with you. Two dead, brutalized bodies cooling beside the place where the two of you are fucking.

“Can feel ya tightening up, baby. Gonna come all over my cock.”

He does something to change the angle, and it fucking hurts. “Too much,” you beg, try to push him back weakly, but your cunt pulls sharp and tight, and then your muscles are rippling around him, womb contracting painfully as your orgasms blinds you with its sudden intensity.

“Don’t care,” he growls back. “Do not fucking push me away.” No, he must not care. Prey doesn’t decide how it’s felled, after all.

He pulls out and back then, suddenly, slaps your cunt harshly, once, twice. You mewl, high and shocked, writhing around in the dirt. He grabs you by the hips and flips you so fast you’re left disoriented, pulling your ass up, up, up.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he croons, bends to bite down on the meat of your asscheek, and then notches back at your gaping, fluttering hole, orgasm still running through you, and pushes back in. You’re soaking wet, slick and fucked open by him and the taking is much easier this time. You feel his thumb press down on your asshole, “Gonna take this too. Gonna have every part of you, every piece. Gonna swallow you whole.” All you do is arch your back further, cheek smushed into the dirt, fingers digging into the cool earth for purchase, for salvation.

The sight of you stretched around his thick base, so slick he feels you dripping down his balls and further below, into the bloody earth. There’s a red tinge of your own blood coating his skin, and he’s going to come. He’s going to fill you up with his spend and fuck it deep into you until it takes. Until no matter how far you want to run, he’ll be with you, always. He lets his head fall back on his neck and stares up at the dark canopy of the trees, groans low and deep.“You’re gonna be my little hole now,” he promises, presses one large palm into the small of your back to deepen the angle and fuck down into you. “Gonna take you with me and fill you up whenever I feel like it. My gorgeous little cumslut.” The ramming of his hips starts to grow sloppy and stuttered, close to the edge now. Victory is so, so near.

You start to claw at the dirt and wiggle again. Little knees chafed raw and scrambling against the hard ground trying to get away. He slaps your ass hard, hopes there’ll be the print of his hand to appreciate later.

“Not inside, not inside – not – no birth control,” you stutter, beg.

“I’m not fuckin’ pulling out.” He twists a cruel and unyielding hand into the back of your hair and presses your face harshly into the ground. Your eyes pinch and tears seep and mingle into the blood and dirt beneath you. “Gonna pump you raw and full. You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ anymore, baby. Gonna take care of you,” he grits and you press yourself harder back into him. There is an existential seesaw inside of you – a volleying of your wants – you want him to hurt you, to force you, to take care of you and keep you, all at the same time.

“Promise – promise me you won’t leave me,” you cry and beg because really, that’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted. For someone to stay, for someone to never leave, no matter what.

“I promise – fuckin’ swear.” And you go loose and passive again at that – his to do with as he will. Nothing else really matters after all that.

He senses the change. The loosening of your muscles into capitulation. He stops his thrusting and grinds, strums at your clit. “Oh fuck, you want me to fill you up? And what happens if I do? What happens if it takes? Want me to get you fuckin’ pregnant?” Starts to fuck into you again, “I think you do.”

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care.

“You’re mine. Fucking mine.” He says it again and again and again, yes, yes, yes, lets himself fall forward, anchored above you with one strong arm as he presses as deep as he can physically go and starts to fill your pulsing cunt with his come, the heat of his spend inciting you to roll into one more throbbing orgasm. He brings his face down close to yours, open your eyes, little thing, lemme see you. The fluttering of your lashes, sweaty, dirt-streaked face, and you are seraphic, the wet crimson heat of your blood pounding beneath the delicate membrane of your skin. Gorgeous, perfect, conquered and his.

“Fucked full’a me now,” he whispers, presses a soft kiss to the tender skin of your eyelid. You nuzzle into him, and then look up at him with the warmest, most vibrant gaze he’s ever seen. Fucking pleased and sated.

“They wanted me, but only you get to have me now,” you whisper. “How does that make you feel?” Provoking, provoking again.

“Like I fucking own you.” He grinds his still spitting cock further, feels the pull of your muscles milk him deeper.

He lets his weight fall partially over you, too heavy for the full mass of himself. You are, after all, a delicate thing, and he must remember to handle you with care, occasionally. He feels the pulsing and quivering of your cunt around his softening cock, and the two of you settle to lay there in the dirt, bodies still dead, virginity scoured and stolen, and stare at each other.

“Have you ever been in love?” you whisper, dragging the tip of one little finger, whisper soft, over the arch of his brow, the slope of his nose.

“I feel a little in love with ya right now,” he confesses, and you press that finger against the seam of his mouth, begging for entrance, and then inside, against the flat of his tongue to inspect the wet gleam of it. It’ll be inside of you soon enough, you should take a look at that which you’ll be writhing against in due time.

“Good. That was my plan all along.” Smug, conniving little creature.

Once it’s full dark, he packs you into his truck, buckles your seatbelt for you, tucks a blanket around your dirty knees and drives off as if he hadn’t just murdered two men and taken your virginity with their blood still hot on his skin. He goes for miles and miles, eventually finds a dark, secluded spot to park the truck for the night. He takes you into the back bunk and fucks you like you’d wanted him to, on your side, one leg slung over his shoulder, hand gripping the lush of your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock, watches your ass bounce against his thrusts. A demanded play with it, lemme see ya push it back in, as he watches himself drip out of your messy hole. Eats your cunt until you cry. Afterwards, the two of you lay, naked and damp, facing each other, tracing the lines of one another in the quiet dark.

Sometimes he’s worried he’s blood hungry – or pain hungry. Starving for something he doesn’t have a name for. But he thinks that, perhaps, he can use your name to fill in the blank space now. He’d always felt as if his devotion was a punishment to the receiver. After all, everyone Joel has ever loved has left him. But as he looks at you, there’s something in your eyes that tells him that perhaps, you’ll remain. Perhaps, he can compel you to, force you to. Perhaps, he can anchor you to himself, and in turn, give you everything.

“Are you a ghost?” he asks.

“No. Are you?”

“Sometimes I think I am.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re like a fuckin’ angel or somethin’. What were you doin’ out here in this wasteland?” He asks you again.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” This answer he likes.

He’s quiet for a long time after that – taking you in, cataloging you, memorizing you. His fingers ghosting over your face, your hair, strumming the fan of your lashes. Later he asks: How do you remember the memory of someone else? How do you keep them when they’ve gone somewhere entirely unreachable?

“Because you love them,” you tell him.

“That’s enough?”

“Of course. Will you ever forget that you loved her?”

“Never.”

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#my writing #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine

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jade-jini · 2 months

Text

“My Ex’s Best Friend”

Kim Chaewon x Reader

Prompt: Your best friend NingNing is excited to introduce you to her new girlfriend (who turns out to be someone from your past) and to her best friend (who you expect to see more often in your future).

Genre: smut. Fluff. A little angst maybe?

TW: Public sex. Some dirty talking why not. Idk what else to put her I’m bad at this.

Also this has kinda a continuation (plot twist tho), go read it if you want I mean 👀👉🏼👈🏼.

You haven’t seen NingNing this excited about a girl in such a long time. It was such a change. A cute one, you thought. From not giving a fvck who she took to her bed to calling this mysterious girl “my girl” whenever she talked about her to you.

She explained to you how they met at the company she was currently training at, they became close in there but sadly the girl moved to another company. However, they kept in contact and eventually ended up becoming something more serious. She didn’t mention her before because she wanted to make sure it was actually serious before introducing her to somebody as important as you. When she said this you couldn’t help but to hit her shoulder ‘cause this girl was really turning her into a softie apparently. You were genuinely excited to meet this Yunjin girl already. The name bringing you some bittersweet memories of your own, but regardless of this, you were still so happy for your best friend.

At least until you actually met the girl. Wtf.

“Yunjin, this is Y/n, my best friend. Y/n, this is Yunjin. The girl I’ve been telling you about.” Your best friend said with an excited smile while holding your ex closer to her. Both you and the tall girl tried your best to hide the shock in your faces when you looked at each other for the first time in such a long time.

Yunjin and you have known each other for a looong time. After spending years as an exchange student in Korea, you traveled to New York during a summer. You wanted to simply relax. To let go, to not think too much about anything. It was your summer to be free. Of work. Of school. Of everything. That’s how you met Yunjin, a local girl who was born her own free spirit, and for whom you instantly fell. “New York days” you called it when you talked about it with NingNing. The thing is, you never really gave too much details about it to your friend. You played it as if it was just some adventures you’d have with some girl, nothing too important. In reality tho, it was, in the words of your heart, the best relationship you’ve ever had. A relationship that officially lasted just a summer, but the best experience both of you ever had. From random late night dates, going to the convenience store to buy snacks and eat it together in your back seat, looking at the stars and talking about everything. Going to the beach early in the morning, enjoying the cold water and the warmth of each other’s bodies. Sneaking in her room to give her the best sex she could get, and also the best cuddles. Dates to vintage music stores, listening to her sharing her dream of being a musician, and even listening to her songs as she played the guitar.

You didn’t know why you never really told NingNing the truth. Maybe you just didn’t wanna look too emotional when you first mentioned the girl. You and NingNing weren’t that close back then. And eventually, you just didn’t think it would make any difference since you weren’t expecting to see Yunjin ever again. But Yeah. She was important. And more than just some “girl you hooked up with from time to time in your summer in New York”. She was the first girl who made you cry when you had to of course breakup and say your goodbyes ‘cause you had to go back to Korea. ‘Cause you never thought there was a chance she’d be here too.

And she was also your best friend’s new girlfriend. Fuck.

But c’mon! You were over her! You’ve been over her for a long time already. God it was shocking to see her with NingNing, but nonetheless she was your friend’s happiness now. What could you do? Ning was happy, so you were happy. And they look nice together! You felt incredibly awkward as the third wheel, and even a little jealous. Not in a weird way tho, you just wished you too could have a pretty girl next to you at the moment, somebody who could distract your mind and heart from whatever that was starting to form in there, somebody who-

“Oh! Chaewonie is here!” Yunjin said after checking her phone, interrupting your train of thought as she opened the door and let in some girl who-

Oh.

Some girl.

Nah that wasn’t just some girl. That was THE girl. That was a beautiful and so Fuckin hot girl and - who was this girl?!!!

“Ok guys, let me introduce you. Unnie this is Yi Zhuo, my girlfriend. And y/n, she is... she’s her best friend..” the tall girl said and thankfully the awkwardness was overshadowed by your best friend excitedly saying hi while hugging the short- haired girl, who mirrored the excitement. They seemed really happy to meet such an important person in Yunjin’s life. But again, who was this girl? And how could you get her number in your phone right now?! “guys, this is chaewon. My bestest best friend”.

“Nice to meet you, y/n” the girl said as she gave you a sweet smile.

Best friend? Uh oh.

I mean c’mon. Was it really that bad? Yunjin moved on. And with your own best friend! Was it that bad that you were looking at her best friend and the only thing you could think about was how perfect her clothes would look on your bedroom floor…

Ok calm down, y/n. You almost sound desperate you thought. Weren’t you tho

You all were currently hanging out at night around the city, enjoying the privacy 2:00 am gives. You guys were driving around chatting, sharing drinks (you Ofc, as the designated driver, were doing your best not to drink too much) and enjoying the music. NingNing Ofc wanted to sit with her girl so Chaewon ended up being your passenger. After driving around for a little bit you guys decided to stop at an empty little playground. If anybody saw the view there they’d either laugh at 4 clearly drunk dumbasses playing like kids, or they’d call the cops. NingNing and Yunjin couldn’t be more closer and playful with each other. Playing tag you’re it and holding each other while laughing. The view was so confusing for you.

You knew you were happy that your best friend found somebody who makes her feel like this. But it was.. uneasy to see it being with your ex, with the only person that made you feel special and understood once. What were you exactly sad about? You didn’t miss Yunjin, right?

Right?

You shook your head as you sat down on a bench. Sighing, you looked at the beautiful sky, getting lost counting stars.

“Hi there.” You heard a voice you were still not used to. “What you doing?” Chaewon asked while hitting your thigh in a friendly matter and sitting next to you, imitating how you looked so focused on the sky.

“I got tired, I’m just waiting for those two little toddlers to get tired too i guess” you joked, making her laugh. The cute sound of it made you look at her, already getting your heartbeat a little accelerated.

“Right? The adoption center didn’t tell me they were gonna be so hyped” she joked along making you laugh as well. You saw her shivered a bit. “Are you cold?” You asked her, already removing your jacket.

“Ah! You don’t have to..” she said softly, but you insisted, already placing them over her shoulders and she smiled at you “thank you”. (What you didn’t know is that was her plan actually).

You always had a thing for people using your clothes. You didn’t know if it was a possessive side of you or what, but it always had an effect on you if you were attracted to that person. For some reason your clothes always looked better. Chaewon probably noticed your eyes on her, ‘cause she was smiling at her mischievously.

“I’m sorry I-“ you started but she just laughed.

“It’s ok, you’re cute” she interrupted you, now with a little more flirtatious tone. You gulped, her eyes for some reason getting a shy side of you. She seemed to enjoy the effect she had on you. Licking her lips, she sat closer to you, her eyes hypnotizing you.

Chaewon and you talked for a bit about how long you’ve known your best friends. You learned her and Yunjin were training to debut together in a new group, but they had met before at a survival show, so they go a long way back. They only got close after starting training together at their new company. Yunjin clearly never mentioned you before, and you didn’t know exactly how to feel about it. For one side, it was sad that she never mentioned you to such important people in her life, but on the other side, the less people who knew about you guys, the best, you guess.

“How long do you think it’ll take until one of them throws up?” Chaewon said, getting you out of your head.

“If they do, I ain’t cleaning shit.” You said with a worried expression and a raise eyebrow. Your face making her laugh, once again the sound of it just giving you a warm feeling in your chest.

Surprisingly sooner than you’d think tho, the couple ran out of energy, and sat next to you two as they tried to catch their breath.

You went back to NingNing’s house ‘cause the two other best friends were gonna get their bags. The plan was to do that, get them home, and then come back to spend the rest of the night at NingNing’s. But of course, her gf had something else in mind.

“Hmmm I wanna stay with you babe~” she’d say to Ning, hiding her face against her neck. She was clearly drunk, and so was your friend, who looked at you with an apologetic smile. You simply rolled your eyes and shook your head, knowing what it meant.

“Let’s go, Chaewon. I’ll take you home. I think our best friends want the night alone.” You said while opening the front door. The short-haired girl said her goodbyes to her best friend and yours and got in the car with giggles after probably teasing Yunjin about whatever was gonna happen once the couple were alone. Great.

“Here, put your address please.” You asked her and she did, although a little hesitant at first. As you started driving, she was resting her head against the seat while looking through the window quietly. You assumed the alcohol was already making her sleepy, but it was more than that. Wonie didn’t want the night to end. Not yet. She didn’t feel like going home. She didn’t feel like ending the night away from you.

“You know “ she started, catching your attention after a few seconds of comfortable silence “Sometimes I wish I could find something like that. Like what they have. Doesn’t have to be a relationship ‘cause I don’t think I want that at the moment but, I guess it would be nice to have I don’t know, a person. You know what I mean?” Chaewon explained to you, who were listening mindfully to her words. Taking advantage of a red light, you looked at her, and she was already looking at you. “I don’t really wanna go home tonight, y/n. do you?”

You gulped, and simply shook your head. She signaled with her head the empty parking lot of the park you were at earlier that night with your friends and without having to think about it twice you parked there. You looked at Chaewon again, and she was carefully analyzing your reaction to her next words, feeling brave but mostly impossibly dragged to you.

“Then what should we do now?” she whispered, her face getting closer to yours until you could almost taste her mint breath mixed with whatever sweet drink she had. Fuck. It. (As in, the expression, not her face- anywayyyy).

Chaewon in one quick movement was already straddling you, making your heart beat so fast. You felt like a teenager sneaking out. You were having a little rush of adrenaline again after so long. And you liked it. I mean, who wouldn’t die to have such a pretty girl on your lap like that. Seeing your expression, Chaewon couldn’t help but giggle a bit before taking your lips in a deep kiss. Both of you moaned on each other’s mouths, the taste of your tongue on hers driving her insane already, making her so sensitive that every subtle move you did under her was making a sweet noise escape from her lips. You grabbed her waist, keeping her as close as possible.

Once you separated a bit to catch your breath, you looked into her eyes and could see the reflection of your lust in them.

“I swear your lips were made to kiss mine” she said in between a little giggle, leaving more kisses on your lips. You smiled at her, wondering how could someone be so cute in this situation, and making the mistake of remembering there was a person who once made you wonder the same thing.

You shook your head a little bit in order to get that thought out of your head, and went back to focusing on the girl in your arms at the moment. As Chaewon starting eagerly kissing your neck while undoing your shirt, your hands went under her skirt to her ass, grabbing it and leaving some spanks from time to time, making the girl whimper against your skin.

“Harder, please…” she begged, and that turned you on so much that you couldn’t help but to make her get on all fours. The sudden change of position and how easy it was for you to handle her like that made her squeal in excitement, knowing she was gonna have a lot of fun with you. Your hand once again impacted against the pale skin, harder than before this time. Chaewon cried, but you saw her pushing her ass closer to you, in a way of asking for more you assumed.

“You like it rough, princess?” You asked teasingly, your hips against her ass as your hands felt it and went up and down her back. She didn’t answer, instead just left out a little whimper as you saw her head softly nod. You just clicked your tongue at that “Use your words, I don’t read minds” you told her, your tone still the same. She whimpered again before murmuring something “what was that?”

“I said yes.. i like it rough, ma’am.”

“That’s a good girl.” You said as you pulled her hair to make her look at you and steal another deep kiss from her. Your hands traveled to her panties, removing them quickly and throwing them somewhere in your car. Fixing her position, putting her ass up a bit, you saw her glistening pussy and you could feel your mouth drool. Suddenly you felt like you haven’t had a single drop of water in your whole life. Not losing any time, you started eating her out, moaning at the perfect taste the girl had. “God that’s such a good pussy” you groaned while spanking her once again. “Come here, open your mouth.” You told her, pulling her hair to get her up, and making her suck on two of your fingers. Chaewon made sure to give a show for you, sucking and licking on them like she was giving you a blowjob. So sensual as she looked into your eyes with a look that was begging for something, and both of you knew you’d give her that and more.

You were biting your lip as you looked at her, the feeling of her tongue around your fingers was turning you on so much that you almost couldn’t wait to feel it on the rest of your body. “That’s.. that’s good, turn around for me” you asked her, and you saw her smile mischievously as she obeyed, returning to her previous position. You sighed at the view of her bare ass up like that for you. Slowly putting your fingers inside and hearing her long soft cry, you decided to tease her other hole with your other hand, slightly brushing with your thumb to see if she was ok with it.

Chaewon was a little surprised at the feeling but didn’t reject it as she pushed closer to your hands, enjoying the stimulations. Therefore, you decided to add your mouth to the game, teasing her asshole with the tip of your tongue.

“A-Ahh, y/n…” you heard her moan. You looked up, to make sure she was ok “more, please…”

Oh. Oh.

“Whatever you say, princess” you answered with a soft giggle before going back to your job. Your fingers moved at a decent pace, following your tongue as you ate the girl out. The sweet sounds coming out of her, slowly become more desperate, multiple “more”, “faster, please” only motivated you to keep going until your roughness had her grabbing the seat hard to steady herself.

“Fuck, y/n, so good, please…” she said in between loud whimpers. “Close..” you heard her say.

“Close? You wanna cum already, pretty girl?” You asked her, looking at her as she looked back, and receiving eager nods and soft pleads while she pouted “Aww you’re so cute, how to say no to you?” You cooed, her pretty eyes melting your heart. Picking up your pace, you fingered her fast and deep, your other hand now back to spanking her ass to then softly caress the zone, and your mouth now attached to her clit for more stimulation.

It didn’t take long for Chaewon to finish hard with a long loud moan, leaving her breathless. The sensation of her pussy tightening around your fingers and the taste of her orgasm leaving you addicted. After cleaning her up with your mouth (more for you than for her), you cleaned your own fingers. As the girl lied there for a bit, you were ready to just take care of her and take her home so she could rest if that’s what she needed.

But surprisingly, Chaewon had other plans.

“You’re so fucking good, you know?” She cutely giggled while slowly going back to your lap, hugging you by your shoulders. You smiled at her, your eyes almost looking like little crescents. “Ready to go home?” You asked her while passing your hands across her back. The girl looked confused “home? But, we’re not done yet though, are we?” She said while kissing your neck, her hands going to your zipper.

“I-I mean, I thought maybe you were tired already and just wanted me to take you home you know” you tried talking, but the way she moved on top of you and the little bites she was leaving on your skin were taking your breath away.

“What, you think I’m just a pillow princess?” She whispered in your ear, making you gulped. “Lay down for me baby, let me make you feel good too.” She said and didn’t have to repeat herself.

“Yes ma’am” you told her as you rested on the seat, your arms under your head. Chaewon quickly removed your pants and underwear, and put your shirt up so she could play with your chest.

“Hmm this is bothering me.” She said while taking your bra off without taking your shirt off too, just ‘cause she thought the view of you with your shirt up was hot. You were impressed at how fast she did that, but couldn’t process anything as her mouth went directly to play with your nipple.

“Holy fuck..” you sighed while receiving stimulation in such a sensitive zone for you. Chaewon switched from one nipple to the other, taking her sweet taking enjoying the feeling and taste of your tits in her mouth and hands. “They’re so fucking pretty” she whispered against your skin, leaving a soft bite in one of them that made you jump. Chaewon giggled at your reaction, and brought a finger to your mouth so you could do what she did earlier and make it wet. Her mouth continued her job while she looked up at you. After you made sure to lick it nice and wet, her hand traveled down your body, playing with your clit.

Soft groans and moans escaped your mouth as you fought to keep your eyes open, the sensation being too good, but so was the view of her sucking on your tits. You stroked her hair softly while she was there, but felt her go down your body too, leaving a trail of kisses everywhere. The anticipation turning you on more and more (if that was even possible).

Once the girl was between your legs, she left a slowly and long lick all over your pussy. “Fuuuck… Wonie..” you moaned at the contact. She did this a few more times, each time loving the reaction you had. “Please stop playing with me, please” you begged her and her smirk made you scared for a moment, thinking that maybe she was into torturing you like this.

“Aww but you have such cute reactions, baby” she cooed, and you decided you could play the same game as her. If she wanted cute.

“Please Wonie, please…” you asked her with the cutest pout you could do, almost looking like you were gonna cry. You saw her as she whispered a little “fuck..” and rolled her eyes, giving up.

“Fine, fine! Such an impatient one, aren’t we” she teased before finally giving you what you wanted, messily eating your pussy out. You squealed, while grabbing her hair to make sure she stayed right there. The way she looked up to you, pure lust in her eyes, was just extra stimulation for you. The feeling of her lips and tongue traveling all over your pussy, and the vibrations that her moans caused, they were building up your orgasm rather quick. You didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol you had earlier (even though you barely had any) or just how amazing chaewon was with her tongue, not slowing down even for a second to let you catch your breath.

“Your pussy tastes so good, y/n” she said while replacing her mouth with her finger on your clit for just a second.

“Oh my god, Wonie…” you moaned loudly.

“Mhm that’s it, keep saying my name baby” the girl said and you obeyed.

Her mouth attached to your cunt, reaching every sensitive spot making it hard to stay still. Your hands kept moving, from her hair, to your nails on her back, to even scratching your own chest because of how insanely good she was making you feel. The view she was getting only pushing her to eat you out more eagerly, moaning against your pussy and that just made everything feel even better if that was possible.

Coming in her mouth and she took it all so well her eyes were rolling ‘cause god didn’t you taste amazing. Seeing you lying down on that backseat, trying to catch your breath just made her want you more and more. She needed to have you all night and that was her plan.

“Hey, should we maybe you know, take this to my place?” She asked, looking at you with those sparkling eyes and how could you say no to chaewon? When you wanted her just as much?

Such a cold night in Seoul, but neither of you felt anything else than the warmth of each other’s bodies as you learn every centimeter of that beautiful girl. And the fact that your ex and your best friend were probably in the same situation? Didn’t cross your mind once.

#Kim Chaewon #chaewon x reader #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon smut #chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #le sserafim x y/n #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim scenarios #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #kpop imagines #kpop gg #kpop scenarios

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