#this is all the way back from october i need to just let it go and post it lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgreys · 2 days

Text

a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze.

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #tw dv #tw domestic violence #tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction

426 notes · View notes

booskwan · 23 days

Text

dOra maar 200207

#this is rough.... had to gif the youtube file #this is all the way back from october i need to just let it go and post it lmao #lyonet #kflops #nugudomedit #nuguidols #nuguboys #yoojung #lee yoojung #lee taeyeob #taeyeob #yoojung gifs #onlyoneof #onlyoneof gifs #ooo #ooo gifs #*gifs #*ooo #*yoojung

70 notes · View notes

cerberin · 8 months

Text

i fought too hard and too long for him

#idk how but i ended up reading a long message i sent to him explaining my pain from the things he had done #reading it back i don’t know what i saw in him #he repeatedly hurt me #over and over #and then got mad when i behaved hurt #that convo was in october #same time he flirted with a waitress on holiday #i remember being so excited to talk to him on my way home #just to hear that he let some random hug him #when he’s rarely hug me #or at least rarely want to #now im here 4am lying awake thinking about him #all i want to do now i block him #even after we broke up he still managed to hurt me multiple times #what have i been holding on to #he made me feel so happy and so alive and at peace with life #but he doesn’t want that or me anymore #i need to let it all go and move ob #i feel ready to now at least #i don’t want someone so emotionally avoidant #no amount of love can make him open to it #i’m tired of it #i’m so exhausted loving someone who can’t be honest with themselves about how they feel #i would’ve tried forever too #i just wanted him to feel loved because he seemed so traumatised #it’s not my fault he didn’t want it #he knows i tried so hard #he didn’t want to #he doesn’t want anything in his life to change and he doesn’t want to change either #p

1 note · View note

jamminvroomvroom · 6 months

Text

everything.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more

hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!

songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst

6.4k words

“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.

your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.

“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.

you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.

friends. that’s what you were.

you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.

his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.

you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.

eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.

and just like that, a connection was born.

you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.

and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.

“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.

lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.

“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.

friends.

that’s what you were.

you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.

on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.

he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.

the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.

you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.

“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.

you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.

“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.

you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.

“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.

“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”

“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.

the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.

a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.

you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.

“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.

“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.

“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.

you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.

you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.

“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.

you coughed awkwardly.

“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“i am now, could fall asleep here.”

“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.

“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.

“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.

“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.

“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.

“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.

“then stay.”

you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.

what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.

“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.

“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.

“you’ve never…”

“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”

“like what?”

“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.

“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.

you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.

“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”

you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.

“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.

he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.

“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”

“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?

“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”

“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.

“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.

you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.

“you needed me.”

“exactly. i needed you. you.”

he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.

“lando-“

“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“

“lando!”

“what?”

“kiss me.”

and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.

you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.

he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.

you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.

he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.

“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.

“no.”

“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.

“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.

“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.

“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.

“says who?”

“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”

“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”

“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.

“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”

“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”

“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”

“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”

“i want you, lando.”

and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.

“please. yes.” you said shakily.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.

his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.

“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.

“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.

lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.

“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.

his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.

everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.

“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.

one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.

when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.

“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.

you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.

“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.

you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.

you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.

“are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“yes.”

the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.

“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.

“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”

“we gotta go easy.”

“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.

“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.

lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.

“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”

you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.

“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.

lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.

“can you look at me?”

your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.

“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.

“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”

he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.

“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.

his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.

“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.

“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.

you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.

“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.

“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”

baby.

you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.

“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.

“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.

“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.

lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.

“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”

you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.

“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.

“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.

your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.

the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.

you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.

you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.

the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.

your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.

see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.

the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.

you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.

“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.

“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”

“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.

“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.

“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.

you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.

you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.

“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.

your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.

eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.

lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.

“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?

eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.

he was looking for you.

lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.

the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.

“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.

nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.

“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.

tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.

then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.

hehe the end

taglist

had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph @wilmasvensson @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @mattxxamryli @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3

6K notes · View notes

bayjaruchel · 6 months

Text

Underneath The Strobe Light

－－－

Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023

－－－

You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.

You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.

He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.

You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.

However— needing and wanting are two very different things.

And you want. So, so much.

Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.

You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.

World News Now?

Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.

Yeah, no.

You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.

It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.

Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.

It couldn't be anyone else.

About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.

The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.

"Hey," you offer.

"Hi," he obliges.

You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"

It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.

"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."

"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."

"And yet … "

"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

You don't want to let the silence set in.

"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."

"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."

"Asshole."

"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"

His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."

"Oh, really?"

Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."

"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."

He's almost cheeky when he speaks.

"It's life-changing."

You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."

Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"

"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"

"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."

You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.

After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.

"It's getting really late."

You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna head home?"

Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—

—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.

"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"

"It's not."

He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.

"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."

"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.

"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."

You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:

"Why don't you stay?"

Your own breath stutters in your chest.

"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.

"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."

His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"

"Why are you here, anyway?"

The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"

"It's not!" You exclaim.

Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.

"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"

You stop yourself.

"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.

Might as well, huh?

"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.

There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.

Then:

He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.

"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.

Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.

"Yeah?" You dare to ask.

Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.

"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.

You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.

You reach out.

He lets you lace your fingers through his.

Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.

You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.

"... Can I?"

His reply is almost instantaneous.

"Please."

You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.

He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!

His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.

You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.

However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.

It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.

He moans.

You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.

"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"

"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."

You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.

So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.

Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.

You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.

"Should I—"

"Yeah—"

With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.

All you want to do is keep going.

You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"

"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"

"Yes —"

"You want me to take 'em off?"

Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.

He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.

"Go on," you encourage.

He helps you move so he has easier access, and—

His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.

"Look what you did to me," you murmur.

He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.

Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—

Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.

"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"

"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.

"Mike —"

He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.

"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"

"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"

"Oh —"

The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.

Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—

Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.

Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.

You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—

"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.

"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.

"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.

You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.

When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.

"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."

You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—

"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.

True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.

He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "

"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."

Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.

He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.

Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.

"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."

"Yeah, okay."

When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.

The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.

"For what?"

"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."

The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.

"You're welcome."

He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

3K notes · View notes

neopuppy · 6 months

Text

SOS (M)

pairing. alpha Jeno x female omega reader x alpha Jaemin

genre. haunted escape house AU👻, non traditional ABO, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to(or bang my older brothers friends), pw-minimal-p, M/F

warnings. profanity, y/n is Mark’s younger sister, pollen induced heat/rut, smut warnings under cut

wc. 10,000+

a/n. I am drunkhazed, no need to message to tell me that I stole my own fic.

smut warnings. f*ck or die, threesome, double penetration(vaginal/backdoor), slick, knotting, loads of cum, overstimulation, unprotected rough sex. mostly pure filth.

———————————————

I mіght burn with the flame evеn if it hurts me

I јust endleѕslу over and оvеr again go towаrds you

”Don’t think this rain is going to let up anytime soon.” Your brother calls out to you upon entering the house, followed by the sound of shaking his umbrella dry. “Hopefully it will be over by the weekend so we can still have the party.”

He smiles worriedly, reaching for your shoulder. “You had to be born during hurricane season.”

Not only during a time of temperamental unpredictable weather, but also during the spookiest time of the year. It was Hallow’s Eve when your mother pushed you out, still half-dressed up in a witch costume as she screamed, kicking the air and practically ripped apart the collar of your father’s cheaply made Spirit Halloween vampire costume; rueing the day she ever let him impregnate her, again.

“Should we plan for something else?” Mark scrolls through his phone, sitting down with a furrow between his eyebrows. “Horror nights? Might be sold out by now. Maybe a haunted hayride? We did that a few years ago though, was kind of boring huh...” he hums, snapping his fingers. “Maybe I can beg Jisung to sneak us into that new paranormal escape room. Tickets have been sold out since they opened but I’m sure if I pull some favors he’d be willing to help me out.”

“Is it really scary?”

“Shouldn’t be too bad pup.” Your brother grins, reaching to pet the back of your head. “Besides, I’ll invite the guys. You won’t have anything to be scared of with us around to protect you from all the spooky things that go bump in the night.”

Right. The guys.

The guys being your brother's best friends, the same ones that still treat you like some immature clueless puppy. It’s nice for the most part, the way they all coddle you and insist you stay their baby forever.

It’d be nicer if they didn’t feel the need to make it clear so often just what a baby you are. Acting like you are not only a year apart in age.

“What were you going to dress up as this year anyway?” Mark continues, texting his group-chat about the possible change of plans due to the erratic weather.

“Doesn’t matter I guess, my package still hasn’t made it. Might have to recycle an old costume.” You sigh, bummed that the brewing hurricane hasn’t only ruined your party but also your valid excuse to dress like a slut without a reprimanding lecture from your older brother.

“You should definitely bust out Gollum again.” He laughs, nudging your arm. “My precious.”

“Mark, I was a kid! Let it go!”

“What, a kid?! That was just last year!” He clutches at his chest offended. “That was our best costume! Do you know how hard we worked on those hobbit feet?!”

“You guys looked like idiots.”

“We did not!” He splutters, tugging on your hair. “Take that back! People still talk about how great me and Jaemin acted out Sam and Frodo’s friendship monologue.”

“Can’t believe he agreed to being the fat hobbit.”

“Can’t believe you agreed to being Gollum.” Mark laughs, adding a wink. “Well, I guess I can. That crush you had on Jaeminie back then was unbearable.”

“Shut up!!!!” You shout, nearly tackling your brother from the couch. “I did not have a crush on him!”

“Oh really? Because I believe your diary entry from October 3rd would disagree!” He runs behind the couch dodging your advances, raising his voice in pitch.

‘Jaemin presented as an Alpha today! I always knew he’d be an Alpha! Goddess he’s so handsome! I can’t handle the thought of him getting any bigger and stinking up the house with his pheromones whenever he’s over. What am I going to do, I can barely hide how much I like him already!?!?’

“Shut up!!!” You scream, lunging over the back of the couch to choke your brother out. “Shut up shut up shut up!!”

“You’ll never catch me!” Mark laughs maniacally, charging for the staircase to run and hide in his bedroom.

“You’re dead when I do!”

———————————————

“What the fuck is this?!” Your brother fumes at the bottom of the stairs, head shaking in disapproval as you flounce down toward him.

“What?”

“This costume!” He motions angrily. “What the hell is that!”

“Jennifer Check!” You say dumbfounded, rolling your eyes. “Like, duh! One of my favorite movies, you know! My costume made it on time!”

The front door pushes open right as you spin to show off the purple and yellow cheer costume, mini-skirt twirling around your hips showing off a pair of snug fit panties adorned with the words ‘I KILL BOYS’ across the backside.

“Woah.” Jeno stutters, falling against Jaemin’s side where they both stand, mouth agape and wide-eyed in disbelief.

“The fuck are you pervs looking at!” Mark smacks the two of them across their chests, grabbing one of his jackets from the coat hanger nearby to throw at you. “Go change! You can’t wear that!”

“What?! Don’t be a jerk!” You snap back, throwing the jacket at his face. “It’s my Birthday!”

Jaemin steps forward to grab Mark’s arm and tug him back. “Come on dude, it’s just a costume. Besides, it’s cute..”

“You would say that.” Mark mumbles, shoving his friend off. “When you’re freezing your ass off out there, don’t come running to me for my hoodie.” Your brother grunts again, headed to the kitchen with Haechan and Jaemin in tow.

“You can always borrow my hoodie.” Jeno grins, approaching you with open arms. “Happy Birthday, or well, early Birthday.”

“Thanks Jeno.. Mark can be a real dick sometimes..” you mumble, squeezing around the Alphas waist to tighten the embrace.

“I think he’s just doing his duty of fulfilling your protective older brother role.” Jeno’s palms smooth down your back, cupping your waist. “For what it’s worth, I love the costume.” Taking a step back he gives you a once over, slowly nodding. “Jennifer’s Body, great movie. Not quite a final girl though, but..”

“I thought about that, but since none of my friends want to battle this hurricane and it’s turned into an all boys party again,” you turn around, flipping the back of your skirt up. “I’d say my chances of surviving are pretty high.”

Jeno licks his lips, biting back the urge to smile. “You got me there.” Reaching for the chain on your neck he draws out the crystal Evenstar pendant hidden between your chest. “You’ll spare me, right?”

The Alpha strokes over the design, smiling as he remembers your last Birthday when you cried about dressing up as Gollum. “You should have done Arwen this year.”

“Without Aragorn?”

Jeno’s gaze drifts back to yours, setting the pendant in place to sit on your chest nicely. “Well..”

“Alright, let's start heading out before this rain picks up.” Mark interrupts, barging back out with a backpack full of snacks for the drive. “Jisung texted, they just let in the last group of the night to enter the escape house, by the time we get there it should be ready to go for us.”

Jeno clears his throat, patting away the sweat collecting on his palms. “Yeah, sounds good, let's grab our umbrellas from Haechan’s car just in case.”

“Passenger seat for the Birthday girl!” You squeal, waving at your brother's friends. “The three little pigs in the backseat!”

“Heyyy!” Haechan snickers, swatting the air behind you as you run past.

———————————————

“Stay close to me pup.” Mark pulls on your elbow, shooting a glare over his shoulder at his friends.

“You know escape rooms work better if we all separate and try to find the clues on our own.” Haechan laughs, shaking his head and throwing a thumb in Mark’s direction. ‘This guy.’ He mouths.

“Isn’t rule number 1 to not separate?”

“This isn’t a horror film Jeno, it’s a game.”

“What do you think Saw was?!” Jeno’s arms flail, bumping into Jaemin’s side. “I wanna play a game?!”

“Haechan’s right.” You sigh, tugging yourself free from your brother's grip. “The timers started already, we need to work faster.”

Mark frowns, pulling off his jacket to throw over your shoulders. “You look cold.”

“Oh my God, what happened to not sharing your jacket with me huh! You’re so annoying! It’s Halloween!” You screech, shoving it back at his chest.

Haechan snorts, patting his friend on the back. “You know, we’ve seen her in less than that.”

“I’ll fucking kill you dude.” He growls, lunging at his friend's neck. “Don’t talk about my sister like that!”

Jeno and Jaemin let them grapple, watching with half-amused half-annoyed expressions as their friends fall to the floor tackling each other.

“You guys think this is a hint?” You nod to a pile of photos, all containing different guests that have passed through the rooms caught off guard with mouths wide open screaming. “They haven’t taken our picture yet, maybe it happens in this room.”

“We have 7 minutes left.” Jaemin moves next to you, snapping his fingers to a camera tripod set up in a corner. “Maybe we are the ones who have to take the picture.”

Jeno opts to continue searching for clues, moving down onto his knees to get a look under a couch against one of the walls. “The riddle said something about letting your worst fear consume you.” He crouches lower, coughing at the dust that lifts as he reaches and pats around coming up empty.

“I hate clowns.” Jaemin mumbles, working on figuring out how to set up the old camera.

“Clowns?” You snort, anxiously moving closer to the taller, pretending to care about the camera. “Didn’t think you’d have a fear of clowns of all things..”

“Why not?” Jaemin smiles, avoiding your gaze as he continues to tinker and focus on an area to point the lense toward.

“I don’t know.. clowns aren’t scary..”

Jeno pats off his legs, neither of them wearing much of a costume besides masks they’d pocketed once entering the escape house, claiming it was too hard to see anything. “Remember that movie Cujo? Shit had me terrified to go near a dog for years when I was a kid.”

“Dogs?!” Both you and Jaemin respond abruptly, falling into laughter together. The tension evades your limbs as you lean onto his side and wrap around his arm.

“You can’t be serious!” You say, wiping at the moisture pricking the outside corners of your eyes. “Geeze, clowns and dogs.. here I thought Alphas were supposed to be tough and fearless.”

Jaemin scoffs, flexing the bicep wrapped in your hold. “Hey! A lot of people are scared of clowns!”

“Can’t lie, I’m feeling pretty tough right now, my biggest fear is probably like a demon entity that’s decided it wants my soul specifically.”

Jeno’s mouth opens, shutting and closing again before speaking. “That’s uhm, dark?”

“Understandable.” Jaemin shrugs. “Why don’t the two of you go pose like a demon just appeared out of thin air to suck the soul out of you like some Dementor.”

Jeno moves to stand next to you, pointing past where Jaemin stands behind the camera. “Over there!”

The other Alpha runs into the shot just in time for the flash to go off and capture the three of your fright filled surprised expressions, ejecting the photo onto the floor beginning to develop.

“Guys, the door!” Jeno says loud enough to grab Mark and Haechan’s attention on the other side of the room. The two glancing over confused from the puzzle they’ve been working on for the last few minutes. “It’s opening!”

He rushes forward, motioning for the rest of you to follow after, an impending beep beep beep emitting past the speakers above as you make way into the next room.

“Guys, hurry up!”

“We’re coming! We’re coming!” Haechan shouts, stumbling to stand and grab Mark’s shoulder to pry him up.

“Shit,” Mark misses a step, tumbling back to his knees. “Ah, fuck!”

“Dude!” Haechan shrieks, turning back to watch the door begin to slide shut with three sets of eyes peering back at him full of worry.

“Hurry up!” Jaemin screams, rushing to push against the thick metal sliding down.

“Jaemin!” Jeno draws the younger Alpha back to his chest, using his weight to pull him away from the slam of the door locking into place.

The slam of the door sounds final, more ominous as darkness pours over the room before the slam of bodies bang into the opposite side; power buzzing off with the clink of a lock setting into place.

“Guys?!?” Spinning around you begin to panic, unable to find either of your friends without the help of light.

“What’s happening?!” You fret, slapping the door that's shut behind you. “Mark?!?”

“I’m here!” He calls back, throwing his side against the other side. “Fuck!”

“Was everything supposed to shut down like that?” Jeno asks, patting around the room for a switch.

“Fuck, wish I had my phone.” Jaemin follows his lead, gingerly tapping along the shelves set up against one of the walls and cursing about the ‘no phones allowed’ rule. “Wait, I think I found a flashlight.”

A click illuminates the room, shining around displaying nothing much abnormal. A few chairs, cushions, and boxes stacked together in one corner. The shelf holding a variety of items from DVDs to books to sculptures.

“Is it me or is it kind of..” Jeno tugs on the collar of his shirt, gaze skirting around quickly in search of a vent. “Humid in here? I feel sticky already.”

Jaemin nods, shining the light on the boxes. “Yeah, it’s stuffy in here.. uh..”

Mark continues slamming into the door, calling out for help. A worried murmur following from Haechan. “Did the power seriously just cut out? Like, this isn’t part of the game dude??”

“Hey, Jeno… come here..”

Jeno’s eyebrows perk up, walking over to where Jaemin stands searching through slew of boxes. “What is i— what the fuck..”

“Wh-what room is this?” Jaemin stutters, peering over his shoulder where you still try to pull the door open. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

Jeno swallows, head throbbing hard enough to make his eyes squint shut, blinking away beads of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead. “I don’t feel..”

Jaemin dry swallows, shutting the lid to open up another box. This one at least offers more, a box full of masks, unlabeled pills, cloths and fresh water bottles. “You think this is safe to drink?”

“Mark, I can’t anymore.” You sound breathless behind them, palms slapping down weakly one last time before sinking to your knees before the door. “I feel hot.”

Jeno’s instinct shouts at him to help you, waving off Jaemin to squat down by your side and place a palm across your forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up.”

He cleans the back of his hand off on his pants, grimacing at how soaked his forearm looks, shirt clinging to his chest. “Maybe it’s me actually.”

Jaemin pants, shaking his shirt away from his chest the more it begins to cling to his skin. “The hurricane must have killed the power, I don’t think the air is working.”

The three of you fall silent, quietly listening to the barely there soft blow of air coming from somewhere. Shining the flashlight up to the vent, Jaemin squints, blinking away the sweat clumping his eyelashes together. “It’s not coming from there..”

Jeno shares a look with him, setting a finger on his lips to keep their voices down as he crawls around the room to find the source. Approaching the shelf, he pulls away a pile of books, coughing and falling back as a waft of strong dust flies at his face. “Jeno!” Jaemin runs over, coughing and waving away the air to help his friend. “What the fuck is that?!”

“It’s—“ you sit up on your knees, head heavy, dropping you to hold yourself on all fours.

“It’s pollen!” Jeno shouts, eyes wide and crazed, turning to bury his face in Jaemin’s chest to keep down a growl. “We have to get out of here!”

Jaemin panics, grabbing onto his friend tighter to pull them both away from the now fully uncovered hole pumping out endless waves of dizzying scent, circling them both and instantly weakening his will to move. “I-I can’t.”

Jeno bites down, face drenched in sweat, gathering at his chin in large droplets. “We have to get away from her!”

Jaemin can hardly hear his friends' screams over the overwhelming sound of his racing heart, each breath deeper than the last. Each inhale more crucial to his system, pumping toxic oxygen through his veins and overtaking his mind.

“We’re getting help pup!” Mark calls out again, sounding more pathetic than usual. “I’m going to get you out of there okay?! I promise!”

“Mark..” you cry, falling flat on your side out of breath. Pupils fully blown out covered in gold as heat engulfs your every sense, soaked right through your Halloween costume. “I feel..”

The smell of arousal hits the two Alphas next, punching them across the face both hard enough to snap their necks, awakening feral need to impale an Omega on their cocks.

“The box.” Jaemin gasps, covering his face with one hand and letting the flashlight in his hold fall, rolling around shining light around the room. “The chains.”

Jeno follows after him in a rush, pulling his sweat soaked shirt up to cover his nose and mouth. It’s useless, the pollen already integrated with their biology, shaking its way through their limbs and bones.

“We ne-need to..” Jaemin struggles, teeth chattering as he reaches for the box he shut just minutes ago, pulling it down with the tips of his fingers. The loud clatter of chains, ropes, sex toys and boxes of condoms spills across the floor, now making complete sense. “Jeno, tie me up. I… you have to tie me up.”

Jeno shakily reaches for one of the ropes, dropping it with an anguished moan at the first throb passing between his thighs. The pollen fully absorbed into his lungs from meeting it face on, he falls face first with a loud thud, chest beating wildly. “Jaemin, t-tie me.. me first— I—can’t.”

“Jisung’s here!” Mark calls, knocking the door happily.

Haechan runs back into the other room with their friend, both out of breath from racing their way back through the dark, using the employee route on the way back.

“What the fuck is this Ji?!?” Mark’s enraged tone is hard to miss even between walls, followed by a mumble of panic and worry.

“The power died, news is saying it could be hours..”

“So what?!? There has to be a way to open this door!” Mark shouts back, face full of heat and anger.

Jisung’s mouth falls, reaching to scratch his neck nervously. “I can’t go in that room.”

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t!”

“It’s the..” Jisung swallows, pulling out a map to hand to Mark.

“Sex pollen?!” His eyes widen, nearly popping out of their sockets before turning back to kick at the door. “If either of you assholes fucks my sister, I’ll kill you!!!”

Your brother's threat has Jaemin working faster to tie a knot around his friend's wrists, completely avoiding your existence by the room entrance despite the thick taste of slick filling his mouth. “Come on Jeno, we have to work together.” He says frantically, licking away the bats of sweat trickling from his upper lip.

“Alpha..”

The air stiffens, hard enough to shatter like glass if either of them were to take another breath. The two freeze in place, trembling with their hands gripped around each other deadly tight as the most beautiful helpless moan dances through their ears.

“Alpha, I need you.”

Jeno manages to somehow get Jaemin’s arms chained together behind his back, struggling as he fumbles with a pair of handcuffs to attach on the other and keep them locked together- at least for as long as their bodies will allow.

“Jeno..”

Your voice licks at his ear, back going stiff as his lips twitch and he nearly breaks down into tears. Every demand to control himself grows more distant, fading away past the chants to fuck, claim, breed and mate.

“Jeno!” Jaemin’s raspy shout cuts through him like a blade, falling forward in a daze as his canines burn as if the pollen has seeped into his brain and began to flow with the blood rushing through each of his rapidly pulsating veins. “Don’t! You can’t!”

“Alpha, please.”

The call beckons him to lift his head, lips coated in a thick layer of spit pouring freely the more he falls victim to the crushing need to give in to his primal desires.

“Alpha.” The land of your palms against his chest has him lurching up straight, neck going ramrod with wide-eyes at the realization of your lack of distance, having crawled your way closer to capture him. The loosely tied rope hanging off his wrists uselessly, easy to free himself from. “Need you, it hurts—it hurts Alpha.”

Jeno struggles to swallow, the lining of his throat blanketed with a molasses thick layer of saliva, making it harder to breath and forcing him to wheeze as he meets your blown-out gaze. “C-can’t, we can’t.”

“Jeno! Listen to me!” Jaemin shouts, mostly barricaded away by the fog thats begun to stuff the olders ears. “You have to resist! It’s the pollen, she doesn’t know what she’s asking for!!”

“Alpha..” your voice breaks past the piles of cotton stuffing his ears, managing to squeeze your way past his lack of sense as Jaemin fails to.

Jeno wants to tell you to stop, he wants to push you away as gently as he can, wants to control himself, but as you make the next move forward and settle onto his lap, he can’t find himself anymore; he’s gone. Lost in the delirious magic of your high potent arousal.

“Jeno!” Jaemin audibly struggles behind the two of you, neck twisting to watch you push down onto Jeno’s lap and circle his shoulders, the Alphas neck limp as he leans forward, forehead crashing against yours. “Jeno! Think clearly! Try to think!”

Jaemin cries between his screams, fumbling around with the chains and handcuffs the older had managed to lock shut just a minute ago, his chest aches; screaming with something akin to jealousy that he wishes to ignore and shove aside. He should’ve contained the other Alpha first.. Jeno got hit with the pollen hardest..

“What was I thinking..” he sighs, forcing his eyes shut to look away from the first roll of your hips landing down against his friends. Jaemin bites back a growl, head dizzy the more he tries to work through the jumble of thoughts racing past him.

Mark will kill you.

Fuck his sister.

Fuck her now before Jaemin can claim your Omega.

Jeno can’t tell anything apart in the room anymore, the only clear vision in front of him is you. If not for the incessant need to feel every inch of your flesh he’d move slower, he’d move faster if not from his own exhaustion and resistance still struggling to bring him back.

“Jeno..”

“Omega.”

“Yes.” You gasp out, clawing at his chest for some type of contact. Everything burns, from the blood pumping through your veins to the heat raging through your nerves; screaming through your bones to have your Alpha, to consume every bit of him.

“Want me to fuck you?” Jeno hisses, head spinning as your scent invades his nostrils and takes over any minor hint of sense he possibly had left.

“Jeno, no!” Jaemin fights to unlatch himself, the flesh lining his wrists cut through with each pull and cry he lets out the more he fails to get free. “Don’t!”

The Alphas cock thrums, aching up his chest with a pained howl swarming his mind. The pollen awakening his feral instincts, shouting at him in anger to not let another Alpha have you before he can.

“Is that what you want?” Jeno clutches onto your hips, rutting you down against the stiff lump protruding from his crotch, panting along your lips that part open the faster he works you down.

“Inside,” you breathily gasp, flushed by the heavy want and need to press flesh to flesh. “W-wanna feel you inside.”

“Ah, fuck.” Jeno rocks your hips down urgently, ass lifting up to push harder against the seat of your underwear. Wound up too tight to stop himself, he manages to maneuver you onto your back with quick speed, still humping erratically between your thighs for some type of friction. “Fuck, I can’t.”

The Alpha jerks once, twice, neck strained back in arch leaving the veins lined up his neck on full display for your Omega to salivate over, canines aching to dig in and mark him up. With tight lips he grunts, circling down against the now wet fabric of his boxers, soiling through his jeans as release spurts out and makes a mess between his cock and underwear.

“Alpha?”

Jaemin scoffs loudly, chains rattling with another curse as he shouts to be let free. “You can’t even get your pants off before cumming!”

Jeno grimaces, ducking down to kiss your chin apologetically. “Alpha please, need your cock, need it inside.”

God, your begging can make his head explode, crumbling as he litters searing pecks down your throat and licks over the pendant splayed on your chest. “Wanna be inside you.” He pants heavily, gliding beneath the cheerleader top keeping your breasts hidden, scooting the material just high enough to expose the hardened tips of your nipples for his thumbs to flick and press down on.

“Alpha!” Screeching and arching you, you writhe under his hold, lengthy palms swipe up your sides, cupping your chest to bounce up as he bites down a moan and grinds harder against the soaked material of your panties.

“Unchain me!” Jaemin’s shouts grow lost the more the thick scent of your sweet slick wraps around Jeno, opting to replace a hand on your breasts with his mouth in favor of finally reaching down to unbutton and tug himself free.

The Alphas lips encase your nipple, tongue lapping roughly as if he expects something to trickle out. Already envisioning the sweet nectar of your lactating breasts after he fills you with enough seed to ensure you carry his pups. Without a clear mind to process a thought beyond fucking and breeding, Jeno tugs at his wet cock, shoving your panties to the side with the same cum covered hand before slapping the thick length against your already swollen slit.

“Please please please!”

Jeno growls, gliding the girthy meat between your blood filled cunt, the arousal hot enough to scorch around him, making his chest flutter with fear and hunger. “It’s all for you.” Hauling one of your thighs up, he leans in to lick across your upper lip, puffing wheezed breaths as the tip of his cock prods at your entrance.

“Alpha, Alpha!” The pathetic cries you let out as he works into your tight heat has his eyes rolling back, cock throbbing enough to feel each tremor pass through his limbs.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Jeno groans, eyes clenched shut when he hits obstruction and the weight of his heavy balls slaps against your ass. “Oh fuckkk.”

“Alpha,” you sigh dreamily, mouth hung open covered in drool. “Feel s-so good, feel so big.”

Jeno’s forehead presses to yours, sweat slipping your skin together and pushing his nose to dig against yours. “It’s you, so fucking tight.” He emphasizes with a pointed thrust, inching out to the tip only to feed his cock back inside much faster and pick up the pace until your hole finally gives around him and he can fuck into you with a renewed ease. “That’s it, relax for me baby, you like that? Like how my cocks pounding into you so fucking good.”

“Jeno,” you gasp, lower back arching up with each expert thrusts. The Alpha more experienced than you, evident by the way he takes control and fucks you harder without having to beg for more. “Love it—love your c-cock.”

Jeno fucks into you even harder at that, dripping with sweat as your bodies run together chasing the highest high, mind numb with nothing but the desire to feel his cum shoot out deep inside of you. “Louder.” He smacks your thigh, the clap thunderous throughout the room, forcing Jaemin to twist up from the floor in seek of his own pleasure.

“Asshole.” He cries, tears streaming down his cheeks as he breaks and watches the two of you lost in the animalistic desire that has you fucking like two feral blood thirsty wolves in heat. It’s enough behind his wet vision to tune the other Alpha out and focus on the euphoric pleasure that's taken over your usually innocent angelic face.

“Love your cock!” You whine, face wrenched up as you turn away and your head bounces back from the overwhelming sensations racing through you. “Love it so—so much.”

“Fuck yeah.” Jeno groans, beginning to lose rhythm as his hips stutter and he pulls out completely one more time, quickly punching back through your tight heat in one go just to feel you clamp down around his cock to a suffocating point. The Alphas everywhere, arms encasing your head as he leans in and licks down your cheek to capture your lips, balls tightening up letting him know he’s close. So close to filling your womb with cum, fucking faster and faster even as you pulse around his length and jostle under his punishing thrusts. Pussy milking his cock dry as you hit climax and grip around him mercilessly.

The kiss grows sloppy, weight dropping down as he sucks your bottom lip in and circles his cock deep inside until the last white string shoots out. “You okay?”

Jeno pants loudly, clothes heavy on his back now drenched by sweat. He waits for you to nod before pulling out with a hiss to fall by your side and allow his eyes to fall shut for just a minute, a minute to catch his breath. A minute too long as you already find yourself crawling to Jaemin, ripping at the cheerleader top halfway up your torso.

The Alphas gaze lifts to yours excitedly, licking his lips as he shakes his head awake after seeing white as he fucked up into the air and came inside of his pants. “Alpha.” You say in the most seductive tone he’s ever heard, better than music to his ears in this hedonistic state.

“Pup, help me.” Jaemin sounds shattered, voice raspy as if sandpaper scrubbed his vocal chords. “My hands.”

The scent of his release punches into you, scrabbling up his thighs to remove his pants from hiding him away. “Alpha, need more, need you.”

“Please puppy,” he grits, thighs trembling under your eager hands, hips twitching up. “Please get my hands!”

The tormented whine he lets out steals your focus long enough to show concern, nodding as you scoot in closer and reach around to his back in search of the chains latched together.

“Need to t-touch you.” He whines pitifully, helping you by shaking his forearms weakly with each unravel of the chain. “Need to—“

Jaemin lets out the loudest blood curdling howl, finally able to roll his wrists around, he pounces up to settle on his knees, hoisting you by the waist to be manhandled onto all fours. “Just like that.” His large palm closes around the back of your neck, pinching the skin taut until you mule and whimper, arching back showing off the obscene mess you’ve made.

Jaemin snarls at the sight of another Alphas cum smeared all over your underwear, quickly digging his sharp nails into the material to tear them off, the seams ripping apart nastily loud, pulsing terror through your nerves. “Let him fuck you before me?” He growls, leaning over your back and landing a strike to your ass.

“You’ll let anyone fuck you? Slutty Omega, any cock would satisfy you.”

“N-no Alpha,” you squirm, buttcheek stinging for less than a minute before another whip-like slap lands. “Ahh!”

“Don’t lie to me, Omega.” The Alpha grunts, sparing your ass from another hit to work his pants down and flip your skirt up, sad excuse of underwear(that you paid extra for) left shredded into pieces nearby. “No fucking point, I’ll fuck you the way you deserve.”

Jaemin wraps around his length, swiping through the wetness covering your inner thighs as he works up to your slit and pushes between your swollen soft folds. “Fuck you like I found you out in the wild, pussy leaking everywhere begging to be claimed.”

“Yesyesyes! Alpha, take me!”

“So fucking wet.” Jaemin rasps, wrapping your hair around his fist to pull your neck up and attach his lips to your jugular, softly teething at the vein pumping fiercely against his tongue. “Don’t move, or I’ll really make it hurt.” He says between kisses, licking at the sweat dangling from your jawline.

The Alpha shoves up, keeping the hold on your hair tight as his arm extends to push your chest to the ground, hips ramming against your supple ass. “Present.”

A gurgled sound of agreement leads your hips to push open, ass lifted high as you spread apart, placing your soaked cunt perfectly under the dim streaks of light coming from the scattered flashlights. “Good girl, keep it exactly like that for me.”

Jaemin slaps his length between your thighs a few times, biting down to keep his moans at bay. “Omega with the prettiest pussy, how’d I get so lucky?” He mumbles, head spinning this close to your sugary sweet scent.

“Ah, p-please—ahhh!” Without wasting another second he slams in, finding lack of resistance thanks to the amount of slick spilling out of you, and maybe because someone else was too greedy before he had the chance.

“That’s it, take all of it.” Jaemin says, lapping at the saliva slipping from his plump lips and grabbing a firm hold on your hip with one hand while keeping your head twisted painfully. He begins to pound fervently; turning just in time to catch Jeno’s eyes fluttering open, irises blown out red full of hunger. “This is what you needed, Omega? Feel that pussy nice and stretched around my cock? Tell me.”

“Y-yes!” You sound near death as you shout, fucked into like nothing but a cocksleeve to fuck for his own gain. Jaemin growls, tugging your hair to turn your gaze to Jeno’s.

“Say it.”

“N-needed,” you wail, cock sliding in and out of you easily, copious amounts of slick rammed out with each pump of his length pushing in deep. The wetness claps through the room, drenched thighs shaking form the force of the Alphas weight slamming down. “C-cock, needed!”

“Say you needed my cock.” Jaemin says in a lowered strict tone, scooping around your waist to pull you back onto his cock even faster.

“Yours!” You shriek, the Alpha squatted over your back with his feet flat to the floor to gain power. Jeno’s lip curls, pushing up to sit and throw off his sweat soaked shirt. “Yours Alpha! Ahh fuck!”

He sighs, cock aching already from listening to your pretty sounds, even if he’s not the one receiving them.

“Pussy so fucking good.” Jaemin grins at the other Alpha, drawing his cock out inch by inch to admire the thick gloss of slick stained up to his abdomen. “How am I supposed to stop fucking you now?”

Jeno rolls his eyes, moving closer to slap Jaemin’s hand away from your hair. “Sweet little puppy, you’ll do anything for some dick.”

He snickers a bit, forcing a soft smile when you blink up clearly lost to the feeling of being stuffed full again and again. “You close baby?”

“Pussy’s gripped around me so tight,” Jaemin adds, fucking at a punishing fast and strong pace.

“Y-yes,” you slur, finding comfort in Jeno’s palm gliding over your cheek. “Wa—wanna cum!”

“You cum when I tell you to cum.” Jaemin says despite your consistent whines, slamming down hard enough to have you slip on your knees, pushed belly flat to the floor to be used as nothing more than a fucktoy.

“Alpha! No, please!” You kick, screaming through grinding teeth. Jeno glares at the younger, snaking his free hand under your hips to find your clit and pinch the bud between two fingers.

“Shh shhh, it’s okay puppy.” He says sweetly, watching your eyes roll back leaving nothing but whites behind. “Don’t listen to him, cum for me.”

Jaemin’s hips barrel down even faster, enraged that the other Alpha has the audacity to touch you. “If you cum, I’ll punish you worse than this.” He says in a deep low registered growl, colliding down against your ass hard enough to bloom bruises tomorrow.

“It’s okay baby, cum for me.” Jeno repeats, thumbing away the tears tracking freely down your cheeks, dick throbbing the more his hand gets drenched with slick.

“Alpha—I—I,” your eyes roll up, empty of thought as gold coats across any color, fiery and wide, lips parted in a silent scream. Jaemin curses behind you, struggling for a moment to push through the ruthless clench of your heat, he fucks through your orgasm even with slick shooting out around his length making it harder to fuck you fiercely.

“Shit.” Jeno salivates, licking at his lips repeatedly as his hand draws free from under your collapsed weight and takes in the arousal that slid down his forearm.

Jaemin’s movements turn erratic, slapping sweaty palms down on your upper back for leverage to keep going even as his release approaches; lost in the depths of his own nonsensical pleasure. “O-oh shit!”

The Alpha stutters, letting out a high-pitched sound similar to a wounded puppy, hips hitting with finality as he finally lets go and shoots drop after drop of cum deep inside of you.

Breathing becomes harder with Jaemin’s chest landing against yours, slapped over and over again by the older Alpha to move. “Get off of her.”

“Ah, fuck you.” He mumbles, biting down on his lip as he slips out, half-hard cock landing against his pelvis softly twitching. “Damn.” His head reels for a minute, calmed momentarily. Coherent thoughts pass by, blinking slowly at the ceiling as he takes in deep inhales of pollen filled air and quickly succumbs to the desperation, the need to be inside of you again.

“Jeno,” you whimper, reeling from being fucked back to back.

“More?” He asks, taken aback but also not surprised, his own arousal spiking up at mere glimpse of you.

Nodding, you turn lazily, cupping to cover your mound to hide. “H-hurts..”

“That’s fine.” Jaemin speaks up, moving next to his friend with a grin as he kneads your ass, lifting your buttcheek to get a good look at your hole. He bends forward, swiping two fingers between your pert mounds, circling over the rim. “Jeno got to fuck your first..”

He says, peering over his shoulder at the Alpha with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll make it feel good, puppy. Real good.”

Shivers run up your spine, Jaemin pushing his way closer to hold your ass apart with his lips pursed together, dropping a wad of spit just to watch it dribble down your rim. “Want it?” He asks, digits digging into the meaty flesh of your bottom.

“Alpha..” your hole pulses, winking enticingly, answering for you as he surges in and runs his tongue across the wrinkled entrance.

“No time for all this,” he says between huffed breaths, setting a searing kiss on your rim. “Sorry angel, promise it’ll get better.”

Confusion draws your eyebrows together, manhandled up for your back to lay against the Alphas chest, pushing between your thighs from behind he rubs between to gather up the wads of slick continuously pouring out, cock dripping with the thick cream. “Ready?”

“Unghh..” lifelessly, you shake your head, unsure what he’s even asking. Jeno moves in to take a hold of your waist.

“Slow, give her time to adjust..” he says in a low warning, already imagining the younger to brutally fuck into you as he already did. “Don’t hurt her.”

Jaemin mumbles a curse, stroking the slick up and down his size and smearing the rest over your rim. “She can take it, she’s a good Omega.” He whispers, gaze directed to your lower halves with focus on the tip of his cock nudging at your rim. “Isn’t that right angel?”

Heavy breath fans Jeno’s lips, watching your eyes widen at the first inch pushing past your viscously tight rim. “Shh shh, it’s okay.”

Cupping your chin, he kisses lightly across your upper lip, stealing the pained moans passing through with a firmer press. Jaemin groans gravelly behind you, holding your ass spread apart to ensure the best view of his cock stretching your hole open.

“Fuck, that’s too good..” he whines, teeth grinding together the more his cock disappears. “What a good slut, hmm? Taking Alphas cock anywhere.”

Jeno can’t help but rut against your hip, growing more hazy with the vibrations of your cries tracing past his tongue. “Can I fuck you too?” He asks desperately, nose rubbing against yours sweetly. “Please?”

A light nod gives him enough answer, thanking you with a firm kiss and tongue massaging around yours. “The best Omega for us.”

Jaemin grunts to agree, pushing in balls deep with a shout, neck stiff and rippling. The tight clamp of your ass has his thighs shaking, heavy hands smoothing around your hips to press down on your lower stomach. “Fuck, this is crazy.” He says with a meticulous roll of his hips, ass bouncing against him. “..Won’t last long inside this pretty tight hole puppy.”

Jeno’s fingers pass between your thighs, teasing past your folds to rub circles at your sore stretched entrance. “This okay?”

“Fuck man, hurry the hell up before my dick falls off.” Jaemin growls, biting at your shoulder to stave off the the urge to completely pull out and fuck back into you raw, throw you back onto your knees like a good little breeding bitch.

“Alpha, p-please, put it in—“ you drawl, vaginal opening spasming around the tips of Jeno’s fingers. Kissing at the backs of his teeth, he nods fast, gripping his length to push between your fleshy velvety folds.

“More, more!” You whine, slapping and clawing at his chest. Jeno hisses, guttural and deep, grabbing your flailing arms and clutching your wrists together, shoving them to your chest with one hand to keep you held in place.

“More? Wanna become our pretty little slut? Fucked by two Alphas at the same time?” He asks softly, the words sounding sweeter than they should from his pretty pout.

“Yes yes yes! Jeno, Alpha! Please please,” you gasps, head rolling back, neck dropped against Jaemin’s shoulder. “Wan-wanna be filled so bad, so fucking bad.”

“So God damn pathetic,” Jaemin whimpers, licking the light teeth marks left behind on your shoulder.

Jeno thinks he might pass out if he doesn’t get his dick inside of you in an instant, steadying himself with the hold on your wrists, he strokes at his shaft one more time to spread the slick; slowly pushing the tip in past your opening as he leans in and huffs over your lips. “How bad do you need it?”

“Please!”

Jaemin screams a slew of curses, gripping hard around your waist and slamming you down to fully take Jeno’s length. Choking on your breath, you stiffen up, legs falling apart only held up by the Alphas keeping you full with their thick cocks.

Jeno’s lips twitch, face dropping to catch his breath as he notices a bulge jutting out under your navel, experimentally swirling his hips forward to see the skin protrude from his cockhead pushed that deep inside of you. “Fuck! Oh fuck.”

He gasps, short of breath admiring the skin stretch out, his cock overbearingly hot with Jaemin’s filling you up from the other side. The skin separating their lengths thin enough to feel the younger Alphas girth rest against the underside of his, throbbing together deep inside of you. “That has to hurt baby.”

“That’s it.” Jaemin encourages, struggling to speak with wads of saliva wrapped around his tongue. “You’re doing so well.”

“F-fuck—me.” You beg, eyes clenched shut tightly, growing delirious with need to feel the Alphas move in and out of you.

“Feel stuffed full, huh?” Jaemin grits, punctuating the question with a harsh thrust.

“So—so good!” You sob, reeling as Jeno follows and removes his length leaving only the bulbous tip of his cock inside before pummeling back in, fucking with full force. Pulling out only to bury back into the hilt again and again, pussy skin grasping around his cock better than anything he’s ever felt before.

Jaemin gets lost in the feeling of your taut pulsating ass swallowing his cock, head spinning with each honey-dripping moan you let out by his ear. “Ah—God, your ass is too fucking good.”

The Alphas begin to work their hips faster, simultaneously thrusting in and out, cocks moving in unison unbeknownst to each other. The rhythm they build up feels punishing, pushing you into a state of ecstasy; gasping out short little breaths as your lungs close in.

Jeno reaches down to rub at your clit with his thumb, swollen nub beyond sensitivity, stealing a fast orgasm out of you. It hits harder than any so far, blacking out as your breath is punched out of you. Thighs quivering and cramping as a stream of clear slick rushes free from your convulsing cunt, arching out high enough to land on Jeno’s abdomen and trickle down.

“Oh—shit—ah,” he shouts, cock stilling as Jaemin lets out an ear-shattering growl and his solid biceps squeeze around your waist, lifting you up and down to thrust in and out of your asshole at a relentless pace.

With your pussy continuing to pulse, Jeno buries his cock back in. Biting down on his lip as you keep squirting around his length.

“Alphas—s’too much, ahh! C-can’t!” You whimper, helplessly trying to free your wrists from Jeno’s strong grip.

“You can take it.” Jaemin says with demand, moving in and out with measured strokes, the tip of his cock leaking maddeningly.

“And you will.” Jeno finishes saying for him, firm hold continuing to restrain your wrists as his free hand circles your throat.

Jaemin blinks back tears, half-upset that he can feel his climax approaching. Snapping quick jabs of his length as he chases after the peak of pleasure, he bites down on your shoulder roughly, nipping the skin hard enough to hurt. “G-gonna cum—“

He grunts out, thrusts becoming more harsh and erratic forcing Jeno to halt his movements, allowing you to be fucked down by the harsh thrusts Jaemin pounds into you with.

“P-please Alpha—wan-want it!”

Jaemin yells, pumping his hips up sloppily a few more times, cock pulsing with hot spurts filling your ass. Quietly moaning with his head dropped, not even able to hold himself up anymore.

Jeno gently pushes his shoulders back, scooping you by the waist with one arm, cock slipping out as he shifts away to reposition you.

“Just a little more for me?” He can’t guarantee he’s not lying, under the heavy spell of sex pollen coursing through his veins. Turning you on your back, he adjusts between your thighs to seeth his cock fully back inside, savoring the heat blanketed around him yet again. “How—how are you still so so tight.”

The Alpha would guess you’re a virgin if he didn’t remember last summer when he found you in a jacuzzi alone with some guy nowhere near your league, bikini bottoms floating away with guilt stained across your face.

“Should’ve been me,” he murmurs, quick to capture your lips and thrust fast, but short, cock mostly inside. Too addicted to the feeling of your walls sucking around him.

“K-knot me, please, please please, Alpha please.” Your lips tremble as you plead, making it impossible for him to refuse. Not that he would, reaching between your bodies to rub figure eight’s around your swollen clit, he groans, fucking faster on the brink of orgasm.

“Can you take it?” He asks, only to see you nod maniacally, biting down on the backs of his teeth with a wrinkled skewed forehead the more he exerts himself to pinch your clit in succession with his rapid jerky thrusts. “Take all of it for me pup, it’s all for you.”

Coming to an abrupt stop he twitches harshly, cock beating against your insides with the first shot of cum bursting free, painting a mess of white inside with the tip of his cock pressed up to your cervix. “Ahhh!—“ Jeno’s lips curl in, struggling to breathe properly as the base of his cock swells painfully and he has to push in deeper, push in the feel as much of your hot tight cunt kissing at his knot.

“Ugh!” Slick streams out, splashing against the enlarged base of his length keeping all of his cum trapped inside. The possibilities of being full of pup spiraling through the both of you, pushing another shot of pleasure out of your tired body.

“Fuck.” He sighs, wet hand moving to hold the back of your neck and take in your fucked out face, take in your wide dreamy gaze. Envisioning how perfect a future between the two of you could be.

Even if this whole thing was some freak accident, his Alphas never felt this elated, full of life and love. “Mate.” He says with a grind, knot pushing against your sore tender entrance, having tears sting behind your eyes.

“I’ll take care of you.” He whispers, kissing down from your cheekbone to your chin, gently sucking at your jawline before he makes way to your neck. “And you’ll belong to me, only me.”

Possessiveness burns through his heart, beating faster as he takes in your scent gland and pulls at the thin chain around your neck too roughly, snapping the metal for his nose to graze freely. His teeth itch with need, licking at his canines the more they throb up to his gums and his wolf howls to bite.

Do it.

Bite her.

Our Omega.

“Alpha..” you say weakly, eyes drifting shut from the exhaustion of heat and the overbearing scent of Alpha seeping from your pores.

“Omega.” He hums, licking up the column of your throat only to lick back down again, willing himself to not bury his teeth in. “My perfect Omega.”

Even half-passed out, your body responds, heat sucking around his length earning a deep rumble from his chest, he hisses, grazing higher for his teeth to scratch closer to your nape.

“Please..”

Jeno thinks his minds playing tricks on him, head full of clouds as he bites down just hard enough to leave a mark and not break the skin completely. It seems to be enough, for now, to satiate both of your wolves. The tension leaves his spine as he relaxes against you, nose firmly tucked against your scent gland.

“I’d give you the world if you asked.” He mumbles, eyes drifting shut for no more than a few minutes as his knot finally goes down enough to at least shift onto his side.

Jaemin grumbles, slowly coming back to, no doubt wanting to fuck again. “Move.” He says from behind Jeno, sitting up only to come to a halt as the door slams up streaking light from the other room over your figures.

“Get off of her!” Mark shouts, spit flying from his mouth as he grabs Jeno’s shoulders and rips the larger Alpha away with strength that can only be fueled by rage.

Protective instinct takes over, throwing his jacket down before anyone can get a look at you. “Haechan, give me your hoodie!”

Haechan rushes to unzip himself and quickly hand over the baggy hood, your brother fast to wrap you up safely before lifting your exhausted body and shooting a glare at his friends. “I’ll deal with you two later.”

———————————————

After a long talk involving a ton of yelling and crying, Mark finally decided to let it go; having to accept that maybe you aren’t a baby anymore.

“You’re still my baby sister though and you always will be.” He grumbles, tugging you close to his chest with an arm around your neck.

“Always.”

“And..” he sighs, releasing you to give you a stern look. “I don’t think I can handle you dating one of my friends quite yet.”

“Markkk!” You whine, smacking his arm. “I already told you!”

“Yeah yeah, I know, it’s not like that.” He says sarcastically, throwing up quotations. “But it’s going to be weird now regardless, I mean..”

“You think so?”

“I don’t think any normal person can go through what the three of you went through and..”

“Well they’re coming over in a bit to help set up the new console system so.. I guess we’ll find out.”

Mark sighs, running a hand through his hair repeatedly. “If they make you feel uncomfortable—“

“They won’t.” You cut him off, smacking his shoulder. “Don’t forget they’re still your best friends who have done nothing other than respected me and done their best to take care of me too.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He grumbles. “But if either of them do anything to step out of line!”

“Yes yes, you’ll—“ you deepen your tone, glaring at him venomously. “KICK THEIR ASS!”

“Pft.”

Three knocks rattle against the front door before you and your brother can get into a back and forth mockery of each other, shoving him aside as you yell out that you got it. “Go away!” You add quickly, shooing him to exit the living room area.

“Whatever.” Mark murmurs, flipping you off on his way out.

Taking a deep breath you open the door to greet Jaemin and Jeno, both standing side by side nervously, scratching their necks and shifting from foot to foot. “Hey!”

“H-hey..” Jeno speaks up first, clearing his throat and nodding at you as he steps in.

“Mark’s in the kitchen, I think.” You say, motioning to the 6-pack of Diet Coke tucked under his arm.

“Oh, yeah..” Jeno shifts back on his heels nervously, eyeing Jaemin who makes no effort to move. “I’ll go put this in the fridge real quick.”

His gaze passes between the two of your wearily, wishing that Jaemin had been the one carrying the drinks now. “Be right back.” He says, skillfully darting his eyes to the younger's face in silent warning before you notice.

“Hey pup, come here,” Jaemin draws you back from following after the other Alpha, pointed teeth on display with a large smile. “You feeling okay today? After everything..”

“I’m fine Jaem.” You force a smile, straightening up at the trickle of sweat rolling down your back the more you fail to create space between your bodies.

“You don’t seem fine.” He steps closer, reaching to push loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry if—“

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, if anything you guys saved me.. pollen, it’s—“

“You saved us too.” Jaemin corrects, adding a small smile. “Not really the circumstance I ever imagined we’d do something like that, but, I wanted to let you know..”

Taking a step back he sighs, scratching down the center of his throat nervously. “I really—“

“Hey, Jaem, can I get a minute?” Jeno returns, jogging over seemingly short of breath as he pats the younger Alphas arm and nods toward the hallway. “Could you go help Mark start to unbox everything? We’ll be there in a bit, I just need to talk to her in private first.”

“Uhm..“ Jaemin’s eyes go wide, lips tightened into a thin line nearly disappearing as he silently fumes and wills the urge to shout away. “I was about to—“

“Great, thanks.” Jeno nods, smiling and striking down heavy pats on his shoulders before proceeding to direct him out of the room. “We’ll be in soon.”

Jaemin sports a hard smile, teeth gritted together as he waves and nods. “Sure.”

Jeno’s palms clasps together, motioning for the two of you to sit once alone. “I really wanted to apologize.”

“Jeno, it’s fine, seriously.” You start, waving off cooly. “Like I was telling Jaemin, everything that happened was out of our control, you know?”

“Not about that.” Jeno reaches into his pocket, drawing free a thin squared box draped with black velvet. “Everything that happened feels like such a blur..”

Leaning in closer he clicks the box open, a beaming crystal Evenstar pendant identical to the one missing from your neck shines, the Alphas fingers lifting the silver chain attached to show you. “I broke your necklace..”

“You did?!” Letting out a surprised gasp you reach to grab the chain from him, only for the Alpha to move away and shake his head.

“Let me.” Jeno shifts to sit behind you, gathering your hair to one side to expose your neck, breath caught upon seeing the light marks his teeth left behind. “I really am sorry about that.”

“The necklace? It’s okay, I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose.”

Jeno hums, pulling the chain around to lock in at your nape. “Yeah..” the tips of his fingers trace over the bite marks, sighing before placing a gentle kiss. “You’ll let me make it up to you, right?”

Twisting around to get a proper look at the Alpha, your eyebrows lift confused, tilting your head to take in the hint of distress pulling his lips into a pout. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel bad about what happened in that room.” He says, gaze lowered. “Like we took advantage of you or—“

“You didn’t.” Boldly, you cup his cheeks to keep his eyes on yours, giving him a gentle smile. “It’s weird but even after that I feel nervous around you.”

“I do too.” Jeno sighs, relaxed under the warmth of your palms pressed to his cheeks. “It’s because I like you.” He blinks rapidly, swallowing as he forces his gaze to return to yours. “I like you in a way that would probably get Mark’s ass locked up for attempted murder.” He laughs to lighten his mood, sensing a bubble of worry beginning to erupt in his gut.

“Really?”

Jaemin clears his throat, entering back through the hallway that Jeno had banished him to exit from earlier. “You two done yet? Mark’s getting tired of waiting and we already opened everything up.”

Hands fall away from Jeno’s face abruptly, shooting up to stand upon spotting the other Alpha. “Oh yeah! Sorry sorry.”

The older grumbles, getting up to stay by your side and glare at his friend pointedly. “You could have started without us.”

Racing ahead, you miss the whispers passing between them, more paranoid that your brother could be suspicious of how long you’ve been alone with one of his friends.

“You really have a death wish huh?” Jaemin snickers, bumping into the older Alphas shoulder as he leans in to whisper. “Or maybe you really wanna see Mark behind bars for that attempted murder.”

The two continue to appraise each other throughout the day, mindful of every move the other makes before Mark warns them when you head to the bathroom to ‘Knock it off before I rip one of your stupid Alpha heads off and punt you into the afterlife.’

“Don’t think I’m just going to allow either of you to fuck my sister now because of this.” He says quietly before you come back in and sit down besides Jaemin, toying with your new pendant.

Jeno smiles, admiring how much you seem to enjoy the new necklace. “Oh, I thought you lost this.”

“Jeno bought me a new one.” You mumble, quickly throwing the Alpha a smile.

Jaemin reaches to hold the pendant, frowning as he steals a glance at Jeno. “Or, maybe you’re more bold than I assumed. A real rule breaker, willing to spend a lot to win..”

“What?” You ask, half paying attention out of fear of your brother’s wrath if he catches you staring at either of his friends too long.

Jeno smirks at the younger Alpha, leaning back against the couch with a cocked eyebrow. “Are you? ‘Cause if you’re not.. you better run..”

Jaemin glowers back at him, whispering quietly. “One way to find out.”

#jeno smut #jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #lee jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct fanfiction #nct dream fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #neopuppy fics

2K notes · View notes

hairmetal666 · 1 year

Text

By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.

She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.

"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.

"Steve Harrington."

"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"

"Oh, er--just me, actually."

Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"

Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."

So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.

Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.

"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"

Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"

Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Little bit," Steve smiles.

"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."

"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.

After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.

---

Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.

He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"You alright, man?" Steve asks.

Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."

His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."

He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"

He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.

"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.

Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.

---

It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.

He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.

Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.

He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.

Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.

"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.

"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.

"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."

Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.

He is so weird.

---

In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.

Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.

Flirting with her is easy.

He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.

It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"

Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.

It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.

"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.

He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.

Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.

---

They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.

They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.

Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.

Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.

A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.

Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.

Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.

He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.

He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.

---

When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Have you seen my notebook?"

"What?" Steve's heart drops.

"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"

"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.

"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.

Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.

"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.

They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.

"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.

Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."

"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.

The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.

Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.

"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.

"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #ficlet #oneshot #college au #best friends to lovers #fluff #eddie has a terrible crush #steve is oblivious #platonic stobin #a little angst #misunderstanding #they're all besties #eddie writes songs about steve #secret crush #and they were roommates

5K notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer Park Steve AU part 6

part 1 | part 5

October

It's Wednesday night, which means dinner at the Hendersons. Steve finally decided to show his face — and no, not because Dustin's doorstep song and dance had any effect on him; it was partly because he was sick of hearing muted metal music from across the street and mostly because he hadn't left the trailer in three days and he was starting to feel and smell like shit.

So, anyway. Dinner. Ma Henderson's pulled out all the stops: prepped a homemade lasagna, stocked the fridge with full-sugar sodas and bought the good brand of key lime pie; invited the Sinclair and Wheeler kids to make a little party of it. (Nancy was 'unfortunately too busy to attend,' thank fucking god.)

But then Ma got stuck late at work, so now it's all hands on deck. Mike and Erica are setting the table — Steve can hear Mike bitching at her because she told him the knives go the other way, dumbass; Lucas is at the fridge filling cups with ice and Pepsi and muttering to himself about how much better Coke is; Steve's got an eye on the oven, waiting for the cheese on the lasagna to bubble up juuust right; and Dustin is using "prepping the salad" as an excuse to corner Steve and annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

“What do you mean it’s hard?” Dustin whines, dropping a handful of shredded carrots into the wooden bowl. “Just talk to him!”

Steve takes a deep breath. Mourns, briefly, for the night he could have had; the girls he could be doing hand stuff with in the back of the Beemer instead of putting up with this kid's shit. “I don’t wanna Just Talk to Him." He bends to peek through the oven door. "And, also: get off my ass about it, alright? I came to dinner, I'm heating up the lasagna. I'm, like, participating or whatever. What more do you want?”

“For you to talk to Eddie! Obviously!" Dustin's tossing the greens so aggressively that it kinda feels like he wishes he was pummeling Steve instead, and when he throws his hands up, little flecks of iceberg lettuce go raining to the floor.

Steve eyes the leafy green confetti. "You're cleaning that up."

"Come on, dude," Dustin begs. "It's been two weeks! What's the point of having friends who are next door neighbors if they refuse to get along?”

Behind them, Lucas supplies in a weirdly strangled tone: “This really doesn’t seem like the way to get him to talk to Eddie."

Thank you. Steve couldn't agree more. He turns to tell him as much and realizes the reason Lucas' voice sounded like that is because he's trying to make one trip to the dining room at any fucking cost. He's got an armful of drinking glasses and three cans of Pepsi tucked under his chin, and he's about to fumble the whole wobbly stack.

"Jesus Christ, man, cut that out!" Steve swoops in to grab the cans before they can join the lettuce shower Dustin just made. He doesn't care how much he loves Claudia, he will leave without helping if they splatter soda all over this floor. Mews the Second can lick it clean for all he cares, he's so for real. "Two at a time," he says sternly, taking the extra cups from Lucas’ hold and handing him back a reasonable amoint. He sends Lucas out of the room with a knee to the ass.

"Hey!" Lucas pouts.

"Hey yourself," he grins.

Lucas sticks out his tongue like a child (because he is one, Steve reminds himself), and when he shoulders the swinging door to the dining room he almost brains his little sister, who makes a graceful side-step and comes strutting through undeterred.

"Are you two nerds done playing good cop, annoying cop with Steve?"

"Ah-!" Dustin gawps. "I better not be the annoying cop!"

"Uh, yeah. Obviously, you are." She props a fist on her hip, a little tyrant in the making, and Steve’s ribs go tender with a fond, vaguely proud ache. He really loves her so much. "Now scram. I need to borrow Steve."

On second thought.

Surely at some point these kids, like, owe him money or some shit for the amount of weary sighs they've caused him to let out. Like, financial compensation for the years taken off his life? Something?

"Yes, Erica?" he asks, nostrils flared; eyes closed.

"You should talk to Eddie."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." Steve looks up to the ceiling, pleading for anyone to grant him strength, then he turns to pull the lasagna out of the oven and watches the bubbles sizzle and pop in the hot cheese until he no longer feels like blowing up at a little girl. "Okay. Okay. And I should listen to you because…?"

Screw financial compensation.

He deserves a presidential medal for how calm he's keeping his tone.

Erica's glaring fiercely at him when he glances her way, and why is every kid he knows such a brave, confrontational little shit? "Because," she explains, "He's being mean to my brother."

Oh, fuck no. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice dropping to an urgent hiss as he feels his hackles raise. Like hell is he letting some Billy 2.0 hang around his kids. "Is he, like- Is he saying shit about you guys?"

She spares him from trying to find a tactful way to ask what he's really asking. "No," she says shortly. "But he is being a bastard about him joining the basketball team—"

"Language—" Oh, what's the point.

"—and those two nerds out there? Are obsessed with him. Especially Mike. Like, ob-sessed.” She writes the letters out in the air in front of her to really drive home the point. “Mike likes whatever Eddie likes, so you need to convince Eddie to like Lucas before Lucas loses his friends over this stupid 'jocks versus freaks' crap." She lowers her voice and jabs the skywriting finger into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "And if you tell Lucas I said any of this? It is on. sight, Steve. I will crush you."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, we good?"

"Uh huh," Steve stammers. "Y-yep. Understood."

Wow. So dignified, Steve. Really loved how you let a ten year old intimidate you. He's saved from any further bullying by the sound of keys jangling in the lock.

"Dusty!" Claudia calls out through the door, "Dustybunny, can you come help? My hands are full!"

In the dining room Steve hears Dustin groan while Mike and Lucas start immediately tearing into him for the name, mocking 'Dustybunny; oh, Dustybun!' in stupid sing-song tones.

"So I'm just gonna..." Steve says awkwardly, inching toward the door. "Go get that."

"Mhmm." Erica gives him an unimpressed look. "You do that."

—

"Oh, Steve, sweetie, thank you!" Claudia says when he opens the door, cheerful and sweet as always. He goes to take her bags from her, but she drops them all at her feet and steps forward to give him a hug, a firm and tender thing that makes an annoying lump form in his throat.

"How are you?" she asks, stepping back to look at him; eyes raking over his face, hands on his cheeks. Really looks. She frowns at whatever she sees. "How's your mom?"

"Can you please just talk to me?" Steve begs, shivering in the hallway because they haven't budgeted for turning on the heat just yet. Wasn't supposed to get this cold for another pay cycle. He tugs the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. His limbs feel stiff and tense, a budding anxiety like there’s a bomb in the base of his spine.

"Steven, darling, not now," his mother sighs as she sinks demurely onto the couch. "Then when!" he explodes. He doesn't want to yell at her, but, "Seriously, when? When are we going to say anything to each other that actually fucking matters, mom? I feel like I barely even know you anymore!"

"Yes, and I feel a migraine coming on; are you quite finished?"

"….She's fine," Steve answers.

Could be true, for all he knows.

The wrinkles between Claudia's brows deepen, like she wants to press the subject but decides to hold her tongue. "That's good to hear," she settles on after a moment, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek before stepping away with a subtle look that’s not mad, just disappointed.

Steve kind of wants to cry.

"Mom! Food!" Dustin hollers from the other room.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I swear I try to teach him manners."

"Well, good luck with that," she grins, the shadow of tension between them dissipating. Her mood is good like that. Resilient. Strong. Immune to outside force.

Steve’s moods, on the other hand, are more like those stainless steel fridges that promise to remain spotless but then end up covered in grubby handprints. (Exhibit A: he’s doing it right now.)

Thankfully Claudia’s got enough sunshine in her for the both of them. “Come on,” she says, extending a hand and wiggling her fingers for him to grab hold. “Let's eat."

—

part 7

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #erica sinclair #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler

1K notes · View notes

tenelkadjowrites · 7 months

Text

Video Girl - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

📼 Summary: On the cusp of 1998, your quiet life working at a department store is upended when an attractive new coworker named Seonghwa awakens your desire for sexual exploration.

📼 Word count: 22k

📼 Genre and warnings: smut one shot. coworkers to lovers. fem pronouns for reader. use of a camera during sex. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie.

📼 fic playlist here.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

Monday, October 6th, 1997

“What happened to the stack of CDs I put right there?”

“Right where?”

“Right there,” You gesture to the empty space that once housed a cluster of CDs that needed to be put on the shelf.

Your coworker, San, pops his head up from where he had been busy sorting through one of the boxes of new inventory. His brows furrow while staring at the spot as if he could magically make the CDs appear.

“What was it?”

“The new Janet Jackson album.”

“The new…oh shit, wait, I might’ve knocked it into this other box,” He ducks back down out of your view and you hear him wildly rummaging around.

With a sigh, you slump against the shelf and stare out at the store which closed half an hour ago. Now, you’re stuck restocking new releases in the CD and VHS section for another hour before your shift ends. At least there are no customers, you think gratefully.

“What’s it called?” San asks, still trying to find what he accidentally misplaced.

“The Velvet Rope, I think,” You reply, wishing your feet didn’t hurt so much.

The stack of CDs really isn’t that important but you just needed an excuse to take a break. It’s been a long day, working a double to cover for someone else, and you were sick of being here about three hours ago. The vest you have to wear while clocked in has long been discarded, tossed onto the counter as soon as the last customer finally got the hell out.

“Wait, I found it,” San says with the same enthusiasm of someone completing a lifelong goal. He circles around the aisle, holding the pile of CDs, “Where should I put them?”

“I’m just stacking them next to Mariah Carey,” You reply while taking them out of his hands and turning back to the shelf, “I don’t care.”

“Fine by me.”

You’ve worked with San for two years now and know him as well as one can know another coworker. He rarely missed a shift, probably because he enjoyed flirting with the women who wandered into the electronics section too much. There were two things San liked to do outside of work: work out and go clubbing with his best friend, Wooyoung. He was good looking to the point that even the ugly work mandated vest couldn’t take away from his jawline sculpted out of marble.

“Thanks for helping me out,” San says.

“It’s cool, dude. I really did not feel like working in my department tonight.”

“You’re sick of organizing all the tube tops? Don’t see any of them you want for yourself?” He jokes, knowing how bored you are of working in the women’s clothing department.

You make a face. “Ugh, as if.”

San leans against the shelf, crossing his arms. “Did you hear about the new guy they hired for the men’s department?”

“No,” You reply, uninterested.

“I heard he’s good looking,” A thought strikes him and in an alarmed tone, he goes, “You don’t think he’s better looking than me, do you?”

You shove the last CD onto the shelf although it teeters close to the edge. You stare at it, willing that it doesn’t fall and when the case stays in place, you finally turn your attention to San. “Why, worried you’re going to no longer be the Resident Hottie?”

“Pfft, no. But…you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

You lean down and pick up one of the boxes of CDs, balancing it on your knee until you get a better hold on it. “Why are you buggin about a new hire?”

“I’m not buggin about him,” San protests quickly.

“Yes, you totally are. I’m sure he’s nothing special. Don’t worry about it,” You turn away from San, getting ready to head down another aisle to finish putting the CDs away, “I can’t even remember the last time we hired someone who impacted me outside of asking and then promptly forgetting their name.”

San looks mollified, taking comfort in the fact that everyone knows he is the hottest guy working in the store. You plop the box down, sorting through it to see what to put away first.

The routine is comforting in that sort of mind numbing manner, the same pace of your life unchanging with no disruptions on the horizon. Tomorrow, you’d wake up and be here again to sort out ugly women’s clothing and clean up the fitting rooms after old ladies leave piles everywhere.

That’s how it always goes, how it will continue to go.

Tuesday, October 7th, 1997

“I don’t want this one,” A customer declares, thrusting a crushed velvet mini dress into your arms, “Or this.” A denim dress is tossed as the customer saunters off back into the aisles of clothing racks.

You stand there, momentarily bunching the fabric in your hands with irritation before collecting your features into a pleasant expression. You go back to organizing the clothing from the fitting room racks to put them away. There are two hours left in your shift and your feet hurt yet again.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,” A voice cuts cleanly through the music being piped into the building. It is deep, almost melodious and you look over your shoulder curiously, expecting to see a lost looking man trying to find something to buy for his wife or girlfriend.

There is, in fact, a lost looking man standing there but his blue vest indicates he’s a coworker. The slightly confused expression combined with the outfit leads you to believe this is the man San had been talking about the other night.

“I just started working here yesterday and the person who was supposed to be training me called out so I’m running the men’s department alone. I just had some questions and was hoping you could help me.”

The man is tall and slender with black hair carefully combed. The ugly blue vest does nothing to take away from his uniquely pretty face – beautiful brown eyes with a strong nose, perfectly straight white teeth and full lips. In his hands is a small collection of clothing, long fingers splayed out across to stop it from tumbling onto the floor. His shoes look brand new, the shine making it obvious. A belt loops around his small waist, wearing simple dress slacks.

You’re so used to going through the motions at work, typically zoned out that only something absolutely wild could shatter you from that usual feeling. Seeing someone so pretty against the backdrop of the woman’s department brings you up short.

“Uhhhh,” You go before managing to collect yourself swiftly, replying, “Yeah, I can help you,” Your eyes fall onto his nametag, and you tentatively say his name aloud for the first time, “Seonghwa.”

He smiles, a sort of strange smile in which he looks vastly uncomfortable, saying your own name after reading it from your tag. You trail after him, cutting through the organized racks of the women’s department into the general shitshow of the men’s.

For some reason, it was impossible to keep a full team in the men’s section. They always quit or just stopped showing up. Over the two years you worked here, you normally didn’t speak to anyone in the men’s department too much since they never seemed to last long. That meant the department always looked like a group of wild school children tore through it regularly and today is no exception.

Seonghwa takes you to a large box dumped unceremoniously onto the counter near the men’s fitting rooms. “I was told to process these returns but I don’t…actually know how to do that,” He admits bashfully.

“Oh, it’s not difficult. I can show you.”

He looks relieved, thanking you. As you begin to show Seonghwa the process, you sneak a glance at his face out of the corner of your eye. His eyelashes are long, his lips prettily plump and his skin seemingly perfect. What planet did this dude come from? You wonder, unsure how someone like him stumbled into working at a store like this.

“You know how to fold the clothes the right way?” You ask at one point.

“Yeah, I’ve worked retail before in my last town.”

“Oh, you moved here?”

Seonghwa looks up as you hand him a particularly ugly dress shirt made from a shiny fabric. In the horrendous fluorescent lights which make almost everyone look garish, he seems to be immune.

“Yeah, just a couple weeks ago. Not far away, just a few towns over.” He quickly changes the subject off himself, “Have you worked here long?”

“Around two years.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s retail,” You reply dryly, “I think it is the same everywhere.”

The corners of his lips turn up for a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Seonghwa turns his attention back to the pile of clothes, folding them swiftly. You watch the way his long fingers smooth out the fabric before expertly folding it. Every movement of his seems to be precise and completely under control, a far cry from yourself.

“Are you settling in okay then?” You ask, trying to wiggle more information out of this professional handsome guy who for some reason is working at this shitty store instead of modeling overseas somewhere.

He carefully folds another shirt while replying, “Yeah, I’m doing alright. Have you always lived here?” Another deflection. It’s growing obvious Seonghwa doesn’t want to talk about himself.

“Yeah, I have. It’s really nothing special though. Pretty generic place.” You study his face while asking the next question, “Why did you pick here?”

Without missing a beat, he goes, “It was convenient. What do you like the most about living here?”

You find his answer curious but decide asking Seonghwa questions is pointless because he only swiftly tries to put the conversation back on you.

Stumped by his question, mostly because nothing really comes to mind, you finally settle on, “The weather is alright.”

He tilts his face in your direction at your answer, one eyebrow slightly raised. “That’s it?”

You shrug, “Yeah, I guess.”

His gaze is heavy on you, a beat too long before turning his attention back to folding the clothes. You swallow hard, wondering why you feel so unnerved. As beautiful as Seonghwa is, he has the sort of intense presence that knocks you a little off balance, almost as if he can see some part of yourself that most people cannot.

“Alright, finished.” His voice brings you back to the moment as he picks up the clothing, “Do I just put them back now?”

“Yup, that’s it. Do you want me to help you?”

“No, I got it. I should start learning where everything goes,” He turns to go and then stops, looking over his shoulder, “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no biggie. You can pop over again if you have any other questions.”

He smiles again, exposing the most perfect teeth you’ve ever seen. “Alright, thanks. Talk to you later.”

You give him a small wave, turning around to head back to your section, wondering why you feel so thrown off balance over someone you’ve known for ten minutes.

“So, how is he?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” San says, leaning closer to you, “The new guy.”

You’re in the break room, poking at the unappealing lunch you brought. The break room is covered in tacky motivational posters, a bulletin board filled with random flyers about things like worker safety, requesting time off and a garage sale ad. A small TV in the corner shows the local news. The image, as usual, is extra grainy due to the bad signal off the cheap antenna. There is no break from the harsh fluorescents even in this room.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” He presses.

You relent and reply with a casual, “Yeah, I saw him.”

“And? What’s he like? Is he hotter than me?”

Another noncommittal shrug. “He’s…different. He’s friendly, don’t get me wrong, but he seems distant. I guess he moved here from a town nearby. That’s all I know about him.” San is staring at you with a serious expression on his face. You shift uncomfortably in the hard chair, finally glaring at him. “What?”

He points at you sternly. “You do think he’s fine.”

“What?” You bluster. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

San gestures wildly. “It’s written all over your face! We talk about every new hire in detail and now suddenly, you give me a couple of sentences. What spell did he cast on you?”

“No spell,” You say crossly, irritated at somehow being too obvious when believing you played it cool, “You’re caring too much about my opinion.”

He slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms, pouting. With a sigh, you push your meal away and turn to face him.

“Come on, dude. You’re giving a new hire way too much power. Everyone knows you’re all that and a bag of chips. You think the confused old ladies who still don’t understand what a cordless phone is are not gonna be charmed by you? That they’re suddenly going to head to the men’s department instead?”

“They tip me, you know,” San says defensively, “That’s why it’s important to me. They give me a couple of bucks when I finish explaining what a portable CD player is compared to their 8 track.”

You skirt around the fact it is against company police to take cash tips from customers, opting to continue reassuring him instead. “Don’t give someone else so much power. I mean, look at the size of your arms. No one in the store can compare with that.”

“That’s true,” He says begrudgingly, “Fine. And I’ll give the new guy a shot only cuz you think he’s fly.”

“I don’t – will you stop –” You sputter.

San stands up, snatching his work vest off the table and slipping it back on. “Alright, I’m going. Talk to you later.”

You say bye, now alone in the break room. Normally, you relish the quiet moments here without a coworker talking your ear off. But you’re longing for a pointless discussion, some sort of distraction from the fact that you’ve spent ten minutes around Seonghwa and are seemingly attracted to him.

You’ve fallen into such a routine between work, occasionally going out on the weekends, and watching TV that suddenly finding someone hot is like an electric bolt to your chest. Things have been quiet for so long, in both your mind and life, that the last thing you want to deal with is forming an attraction to a coworker.

Luckily, Seonghwa seems intent to keep mostly to himself. The emotional distance should help, you think, should make it easier not to get swept up in some guy.

Wednesday, October 8th, 1997

Once it hits 4pm, all you care about is punching out and getting home. You’re so wrapped up in this that when you turn around to dart out of the back room, you collide immediately into Seonghwa.

It’s like striking a wall. Even though he’s slender, his body is firm, resulting in you ungracefully flailing for a moment. His hands go to your upper arms to steady you, allowing yourself to recover from toppling back against the wall.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You’re embarrassed by being so spaced out.

Seonghwa, who you have successfully avoided all day, doesn’t seem to be impacted by the collision. He’s still in his work vest but today he’s wearing a long sleeve black shirt. His hands rest on your upper arms and your eyes drop to his fingers, taking note of how they look against the fabric of your clothing.

He clears his throat gently, a mild noise of embarrassment, before dropping his hands back to his sides. “No, I should have let you know I was behind you. My shift is done too so I was just punching out.”

You shuffle to the side, letting Seonghwa finish up. Your heart is beating quickly in that annoying way you’ve been trying to avoid since your last relationship. You should just say goodbye now and head out. But your feet refuse to obey and you find yourself lingering to walk out with Seonghwa.

After shaking out of his work vest and tossing it unceremoniously into his locker, he leans against it, watching as you fumble with your own lock.

“How was your day?”

“Uh, it was alright. What about you? You settling in okay with everything?” You successfully open your locker, shoving your own work vest in there and grabbing your bag.

Turning to meet Seonghwa’s gaze, your eyes unintentionally flick down to his torso. His long sleeve shirt fits him a little too well, is a little too snug, and you’re now acutely aware of his small waist on top of the fact he’s definitely in shape.

“Yeah, it’s going well. A bit disorganized but it’s fine.”

The two of you are leaving the backroom together, cutting through the electronics section. San is milling around in front of a display of Tamagotchis which is already half empty. He glances up and notices you, waving.

“Hey,” He goes, “Oh, you’re the new guy, right?”

You’re secretly hoping San doesn’t embarrass you. Even though you denied thinking Seonghwa is attractive yesterday, you know that San doesn’t believe you for a second.

Seonghwa introduces himself and then glances at the display. “These things go fast, don’t they?”

“Tell me about it. I end up having to restock the display every shift,” San replies disgruntled, “I don’t get it. An electronic pet?”

“I had a Tamagotchi,” Seonghwa muses, “It kept beeping while I was sleeping so I shoved it in a drawer and forgot about it.”

“What happened to it?” San asks.

“It died,” He replies seriously, “I felt pretty guilty.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” San says just as grimly.

You glance between the two men and their bonding moment over a dead Tamagotchi before clasping your hands together. “Okay, well, this has been truly touching but I don’t wanna miss my bus. See you tomorrow, San.”

As you turn to leave, you hear Seonghwa mumble a quick goodbye before catching up with you. “You take the bus to work?”

“Yeah, no car.”

“I can drop you off at your place if you’d like.”

You glance at him in surprise. “You don’t even know if I’m completely out of your way or not. We could live on opposite sides of one another. On top of that, how familiar are you with the town? You got a map in your car or something to help you get home afterwards?”

Seonghwa looks perplexed. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

The doors glide open as you step out into the late afternoon air. The temperature has dropped since this morning, a chilly bite that cuts through your t-shirt. Seonghwa had the right idea with the long sleeve, you think. Feeling flustered by his invitation to drive you home, you stop walking and turn to face him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to come across so harsh. I just wouldn’t want you going out of your way on my account.”

“I get that,” He replies, a wind kicking up and blowing some of his hair into his eyes which he impatiently brushes back, “But I really don’t mind. I need to learn where everything is anyway.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you fight the urge just to agree. Logically, you should just take the bus home. If you’re trying to steadfastly ignore the fact that Seonghwa is attractive then obviously being in his car will not help things. But on the other hand, being alone with him also sounds too good.

�� “Alright, fine. But if you get lost, I warned you.”

He smiles and you can feel it in your chest. Following him to his car, which looks as though it has seen better days, you get into the passenger seat and toss your bag on the floor, looking around. A pair of small dice swing off the rearview mirror, the only decoration in the car. There is nothing else to learn about Seonghwa in here – the car is neat, clean and smells nice.

He stretches out his long legs in his seat, starting the car. You are trying very hard not to stare at him, not notice how smooth his skin is nor how his muscles pull against his long sleeve shirt.

You open your mouth to tell him your address when suddenly Wannabe by the Spice Girls begins to blare out of his car speakers. Startled into silence, you can only watch as Seonghwa looks mortified, quickly slamming his hand down onto the eject button which spits the CD out of the player in his car dashboard.

He grabs the CD swiftly while going, “Uh, I didn’t know – I forgot – ‘’

“Seonghwa, it’s fine,” You reassure him, “It would be stranger at this point if you didn’t own that CD.”

He turns his body to grab something off the back seat, plopping the CD holder into his lap. Quickly, he opens it, flips to a random page with a spot available and hastily shoves the disc inside before closing the big binder of albums. Seonghwa seems to collect himself after a second or two, returning the binder to the backseat and quietly clearing his throat while turning on the radio. Sunday Morning by No Doubt quietly fills the car.

“Alright,” He says, neatly skirting around the Spice Girls incident, his hands wrapping around the steering wheel, “Help me get to your place.”

You give him a couple of directions and soon enough Seonghwa is on a main road. You make a mental note to eventually Map Quest some stuff for him later so he can learn the town layout faster.

Wanting to fill the silence before your brain gets swept up in the mental image of sitting in his lap, you go, “Are you excited for Halloween? Hopefully we don’t get stuck working late.”

“Do you usually do something for Halloween?”

Of course he deflects immediately. You should have known better than to ask Seonghwa a question about himself. “Sometimes. Last year I went to a party but it was a total buzzkill. I don’t know what I’m doing this year.”

“Do you like horror movies?”

“They’re okay. Do you?”

“Yeah, I like them.” Wow, finally an answer out of him! Progress.

“Oh, wait, turn right at this light,” You say as Seonghwa shifts into the other lane.

At the red light, he looks out the side window and says, “So far, this is near my own place. Maybe we don’t live too far away from each other.”

“Maybe.” Did you dare ask another question? “Do you live alone?”

Seonghwa hesitates for a moment and then replies, “Yeah, I do. What about you?”

You spare an extra second to study his face. Every interaction with Seonghwa, while friendly enough, gives you the feeling that he is constantly holding back in some respect. Aspects of himself are carefully hidden, making you wonder what he is like behind the perfectly pleasant façade he shows at work.

“Yeah. Do you like living alone?”

“It’s a little different than what I am used to,” Seonghwa says carefully, glancing at you for a moment.

You point to a road ahead. “You can turn down here.” After he does so, you ask, “What are you used to?”

Seonghwa’s hands tighten around the wheel. You get the sense he is struggling to answer, torn between talking about himself and staying private.

“Listen, Seonghwa,” You begin, “I get the sense you really don’t like talking about yourself. That’s fine. I don’t want to come off all ‘hey, tell me your life story’ and shit. I know we just met.”

There is another red light and the car stops. Seonghwa tilts his face to look at you. You’re struck again by how handsome you find him and how his intense gaze startles you into silence.

“It has nothing to do with you. I don’t mean to seem so closed off.” He turns his attention back to the road, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before saying, “I moved here because my girlfriend and I broke up recently. I’m not used to living alone because I lived with her.”

“Oh,” You mumble as the light turns green, feeling awkward, “I didn’t mean to – I mean…”

“It’s okay,” He reassures you, his attention back on the road, “I’m a private person but I don’t want to come off rude.”

Quietly, you point out the next turn. It doesn’t take long to stop at the small apartment complex you’ve lived in the past year. Grabbing your bag, anxious to get out of the car after fumbling straight into making Seonghwa feel as if he needed to explain himself, you stop just in time to remember he might not know how to get to his own place.

“I can figure it out,” He claims while you rummage in your bag for a stray sheet of paper and pen.

“No, no, you were nice enough to drop me off. What’s your address?” After he says it, you scribble down rough directions that he can follow and thrust the paper in his direction. “Here, this should help.”

When he takes the paper from you, his fingers brush against yours. Your breath catches at the small touch.

“Listen, I meant what I said,” Seonghwa says, “You don’t need to feel bad.”

“Yeah but I didn’t want you to talk about anything negative like a breakup. That is way uncool of me. It isn’t any of my business why you moved here or who you live with.”

“True but I also don’t wanna come off like a jerk.”

“You weren’t, I just…” You’re struggling to find a safe sentence to land on. How did you not say that you wanted to learn more about him because you were immediately attracted and therefore curious? “Wanted to be friendly. Since we work together.”

“We’re chilling, don’t worry about it. Let me walk you to your door, at least.”

“You don’t need to do that,” You protest even though your heart skips a beat.

“I don’t mind.”

You know that you’re probably supposed to refuse again until Seonghwa relents and even though you still have anxiety from the misstep of having him open up about his past, your desire to be around him for longer wins out. You nod in acceptance, getting out of the car and rubbing your arms in the cold air, reminding yourself to bring a hoodie tomorrow.

Seonghwa circles around the car, waiting for you to shuffle over. The apartment complex isn’t anything special, just two floors and a run down looking pool in the middle that is currently closed for fall and winter. You lead him up to the second floor, stopping in front of your apartment. Seonghwa is peering over the railing to look at the pool. Some of his black hair falls in front of his eyes. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his pants to keep them warm. Your eyes drop to his slender waist and you swallow hard. Everything about this man seems to have been specially created to drive you up the wall.

“You ever use the pool?”

“Not really. Why, do you like swimming?”

“I do. My apartment complex doesn’t have a pool though.”

Without thinking, you offer, “Well, when the pool reopens, you can come here.”

He looks over at you, something flickering across his eyes quickly. Straightening up, he nods, giving you a small smile. “Alright, that sounds sweet.”

Shifting the weight of your bag onto your other shoulder, you go, “Well…thanks again for the ride. Try not to get lost on the way home. Do you work tomorrow?”

“I do.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Seonghwa lingers for a moment. Once again, you get the feeling he is restraining from doing or saying something that might expose too much of himself. It is a curious thing, you think, especially given that you just assumed the whole ex-girlfriend thing is why he was being so reserved. Maybe that’s just him as a person though. Just really private and constantly filtering his behavior through a thousand nets.

“Alright, talk to you later.”

“See you later, alligator,” You reply and immediately chastised yourself for ending on such a corny line.

Seonghwa turns around, walking back towards the staircase. You trace the curve of his shoulders underneath his shirt, getting a brief mental image of your hands flat against the top of them while you’re under his body. Shaking your head to fend off the fantasy, you turn away.

He’s probably incredibly boring in bed. He’s an attractive guy but he’s so mild mannered and pleasant in an easily digestible way. Why get distracted into some annoying crush when the end result won’t be worth it?

Thursday, October 9th, 1997

“Wassup?” San plops down in the chair next to yours while gesturing at the TV. “You watch this?”

Once again, it is mid-afternoon in the break room. You’re eating lunch, staring at the grainy image on the TV that is showing a Buffy the Vampire Slayer ad for the new episode on Monday night.

“No, do you?”

“Nah but Yeosang records it every week to watch.”

Yeosang is San’s roommate. That information doesn’t really surprise you seeing as he also watches The X-Files religiously.

“Well, I bet he will enjoy this episode,” You squint, looking at the ad closer, “About a gigantic reptile thing in a frat house.”

It is at that moment that Seonghwa steps into the break room. He is wearing a short sleeve black shirt today along with the ugly blue vest and a pair of black jeans. San waves when he enters.

“Hey, dude. Are you on break?”

“Yeah, I am.”

San kicks out the chair on the other side of you, motioning to it. “Wanna chill with us?” When Seonghwa isn’t looking, he winks at you. You fight the urge to punch his shoulder.

Seonghwa nods, stopping to get something out of the fridge before settling in next to you. He catches your eye and gives you a small smile. Your cheeks feel warm so you turn your attention back to your sandwich but you can still feel his gaze.

“Damn, I wanna see this,” San interrupts whatever the hell was passing in between Seonghwa and yourself.

“I think the title is kinda goofy though,” Seonghwa remarks.

“You don’t like I Know What You Did Last Summer? I think it sounds a little mysterious. You know, it’s by the same writer as Scream,” San nudges you, “What do you think?”

“I think I haven’t seen Scream so that sentence means nothing to me.”

“Whoa, what, you haven’t seen Scream?” Seonghwa’s attention is back on you, “The sequel comes out soon. You should watch it. It’s really good.”

Slightly desperate for something new to discuss with Seonghwa that didn’t involve asking questions leading to awkward moments, you leap at this opportunity. “Alright. I guess I can see if Blockbuster has it.”

San scoffs. “Are you serious? I’ve been asking you to watch Scream for months – ow!” He winces as your foot collides with his shin under the table.

Seonghwa frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” San wheezes, “I always forget about the metal bar under the table. Just whacked my leg against it.”

“He’s fine,” You say quickly, shooting daggers at him.

Seonghwa tilts his body in your direction and goes, “I own Scream. I can bring the VHS tape tomorrow if you’re also working.”

“I don’t have a day off until Sunday so I’ll be here. But are you sure? I don’t want you to lend me anything…”

“Yeah, it’s okay. Don’t go to Blockbuster. I always do and then forget and end up owing them an annoying amount of late fees.”

San has quickly forgotten the shin kicking incident and nods in agreement. “He’s right. Avoid it if you can.”

“I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“Okay, well, thanks.”

“Hey, when you’re done watching it, can I borrow it? Yeosang still hasn’t seen it either,” San goes, “He’s so bad at watching movies.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” Seonghwa replies, “I’m still unpacking but I know where it is.”

“Great, thanks dude,” San exclaims before turning his attention back to the TV.

San says something else but you don’t really hear him because Seonghwa is still looking at you. Even though Seonghwa is friendly yet distant, your body seems to react to him in a way that takes you by surprise every time you’re close. It’s the warmth of his body so near combined with his toned arms and perfect skin. The effect is slightly dizzying. Toss in the fact you haven’t had a crush on someone since your last relationship ended three years ago, you are struggling between thinking his personality doesn’t match up with yours and wanting to throw yourself at him. The entire thing is confusing.

Seonghwa’s lips are slightly parted as if he was going to say more but falls silent while staring at you. There is something brewing in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before. It’s intense and your stomach swoops as if leaping off a cliff. His hand presses down hard against his knee to steady himself. He suddenly looks away towards the window, cutting the moment short.

You’re breathless, wondering what the hell that had been about. The way Seonghwa looked at you mingling with the feeling that he was reigning himself in, closing something off – you don’t know what to make of it. Could it be he also is attracted to you and is trying to hide it? In all your interactions with him, he’s been kind and considerate but nothing indicated he saw you in a physical way.

You force yourself into focusing on whatever San is saying, trying to push all the swirling emotions out of your mind.

Friday, October 10th, 1997

You sigh, plopping down on your bed, stretching out. Work today was a chore but Seonghwa had given you his copy of Scream. With San bothering you to watch it quickly so he could let Yeosang borrow it, you figured you’d just watch it tonight before going to sleep.

Leaning over the side of your bed, you rummage through your bag until your fingers feel the edge of the VHS tape. Pulling it out, you gaze at the cover for a few seconds, lost in thought. You’re thinking about how Seonghwa looked today right before his shift ended. You were on your break and he was at the lockers, tugging a hoodie over his head. His white shirt lifted up so slightly that if you hadn’t been already staring at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the quick glimpse of a few inches of hard abdomen. That was enough to send your body into overdrive, something you still hadn’t calmed down from when he came over to hand you the Scream VHS.

“Thanks,” You mumbled quickly, hoping that he didn’t have the ability to read your mind.

“Not a problem. You can just give it to San as soon as you’re done with it. I’m not in any hurry to get it back.”

He gave you that same easy going smile, the type of smile that made you wonder what he would be like if his kind demeanor cracked and he had you pushed against a wall with his lips against your neck.

“Right, yeah, cool.” You said in what you hoped was a casual tone.

When he turned around to leave, your eyes lingered on his waist before turning your attention back to your food, the VHS tape in your lap like a heavy weight.

Dragging yourself back to the present moment, you pull the tape out of the sleeve, finding it a bit curious there isn’t a sticker with the movie name on it. You wiggle to the edge of your bed, shoving the tape into the player. There are a few seconds of VHS tracking and then the picture pops into view.

You’re staring at a palm tree against a blue sky, slightly out of focus. The tape goes grainy for a moment and then the camera swoops downward. Someone’s face comes into view, filling up the lens before their hand pushes the camera away while they are laughing.

Uh, okay, this is not what I thought the movie was gonna look like, you think while squinting at the TV.

“Can you get the camera out of my face?” comes a familiar voice.

“Stop, you love when the camera is on,” A woman replies coyly.

The shot snaps into focus then, showing Seonghwa against a wall. He is wearing a sleeveless white and blue striped shirt, his black hair ruffling in the wind. The sight of him is like a punch to your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. His smile is bright, completely different from the ones you’ve seen at work. It is unguarded. Even his posture is relaxed with none of the slightly stiff professional nature he has at work.

Entranced, you can only stare as the scene continues. Seonghwa runs his long fingers through his hair, his smile turning into a grin.

“So do you,” He counters.

You can hear the sound of ocean waves just off screen. He turns his face to the side, the camera lingering on this for a moment before it lowers for a second, showing a wooden pathway. It cuts suddenly, immediately shifting into another scene.

Seonghwa is standing on the beach now, slipping his shirt off and tossing it onto the blanket that is on the sand. You didn’t think it was possible to see him look so comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t seem to be shy at all, staring at the camera with a challenging look on his face. On top of that, the sight of Seonghwa shirtless is bowling you over. He is toned, tanned and has muscles you want to press your hands against.

“What?” He goes.

“Nothing,” The woman says, “I can’t film you getting into the water?”

“You’re just filming me undressing.”

“Well, it’s not the first time, is it?”

He rolls his eyes but there is a good natured expression on his face. He shoves his thumbs into his swim trunks, tugging them down half an inch before exploding into laughter and turning around, jogging towards the water.

Another cut. New scene. This has to be him and his ex. I need to turn this off. It’s obviously not meant for me.

Seonghwa is sitting at a table in a diner, looking over a menu. He raises his eyes, making eye contact with the camera then he laughs again. He looks relaxed, his smile bright and posture resting comfortably against the booth.

“You look wicked good tonight,” The woman remarks and Seonghwa playfully shakes the menu in her direction.

“Good thing you’re getting it on camera, right?”

“Exactly.” She zooms in a little more. “Do you want to tell the imaginary audience what we’ll be filming later?”

“Oh, well, I think the imaginary audience knows by now what we like to film,” He says with a mock seriousness that makes your heart constrict. “Isn’t that right?”

The woman giggles and the scene cuts suddenly. This time the camera is in a bedroom with the lens focusing on Seonghwa once again. He is shirtless, close to the camera.

“You gonna keep it on while I fuck you?” He says in a low voice.

The woman doesn’t reply, just giggles.

Seonghwa’s eyes drop for a moment before locking back onto the camera. You’ve never seen such an expression on his face – a combination of lust and reveling in the fact the entire thing is being filmed. It is as if the exterior you’ve seen on him since he began to work at the store is all bullshit, a lie in which he hides behind, and you’re seeing him for real now through the lens.

“Maybe I’ll film you when my cock is down your throat,” He continues, “You want that?”

The woman titters again before going, “Yeah, I want that.”

Seonghwa grins, moving back a little so that his entire body is in view. The low light makes it difficult to fully make him out but you can see the curve of his shoulders, the stiffness against the fabric of his boxers, and the way he motions for her to come closer.

“Then give me the camera and get on your knees,” He says sternly while lowering one hand towards his boxers, starting to pull them down –

The sight of Seonghwa about to expose himself finally snaps you out of your shock. Quickly, you lean over and smash the eject button on the tape, yanking it out of the machine and dropping it to the floor as if it is going to burn you.

You stare at it, breathless, your mind spinning. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where that tape was going to lead. After all, people still talked about the tape of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee; it had been covered in media for months and was still often a topic of conversation.

You are aware Seonghwa just moved and the tape must be misplaced. Do you tell him? Do you just pretend you watched Scream and not mention it? But San wanted to borrow the copy as well. Obviously, he couldn’t get his hands on it. You could lie and say the tape didn’t play. But the excuse wouldn’t work because Seonghwa would try it on his own player and realize what was really on it. You could pretend you lost the tape and destroy it. But that also didn’t seem right. It wasn’t your tape, after all, and eventually Seonghwa could put the pieces together and believe you kept the tape to watch or worse. It felt as if the only choice would be to come clean to Seonghwa and let him know he accidentally gave you the wrong tape.

On the other side of things, you couldn’t believe how different Seonghwa was on camera. There was such a relaxed, casual demeanor to him. He seemed more at ease in front of the lens than in reality. For the first time since meeting him, it felt that you truly saw him. The quiet confidence, no hint of shyness in the way he spoke or removed his clothes. On top of that, his body was absolutely banging in a way that made your thighs clench and hands bunch up in your blanket.

Then give me the camera and get on your knees.

You think about that moment in the break room when Seonghwa’s eyes were heavy on yours and his hand gripped his knee. The little bit of his true personality coming through before being shoved back down, perhaps? Just an hour ago, you thought everything about Seonghwa had been figured out. Not anymore.

Your mind flashes back to his smile and the expression on his face while the camera filmed. Unguarded. Exposed. Hiding behind nothing and leaving everything, including sex, on a VHS tape.

What would such a thing be like? A small voice in your head wonders.

Saturday, October 11th, 1997

“Hey, good morning.”

You jump out of your skin, slamming your locker door shut and turning to see Seonghwa standing there.

“Hi, Seonghwa! How’s it hanging?!” You exclaim loudly with such false cheer that you inwardly wince.

Seonghwa outwardly winces. “You’re at an excitement level I can’t quite reach given we are at work.”

Then give me the camera and get on your knees.

You make a garbled noise in response, eyes darting all over the place. You can’t stare at Seonghwa’s face because then you think of his unguarded smile. You can’t stare at his chest because then the mental image of his abs pops into view. You can’t even look at his small waist, something that had been giving you great pleasure to sneak glances at during the week, because you’re picturing the way he was tugging down his boxers.

“Are you…uh…feeling alright?”

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” You say quickly, “Tired.”

His eyes move to your locker and he gestures to it. “Oh, did you watch Scream?”

Your head turns sharply. The VHS tape is poking out of the top of your bag. You stammer out a collection of gibberish, stalling for time. You didn’t want to have this conversation right now; you had been picturing it after work, maybe in his car or something. Not in the break room before it hits ten in the morning.

Seonghwa looks perplexed once again. You don’t blame him.

Finally, you settle on, “I would really like to discuss the tape with you.”

His features brighten. “Yeah, sure.”

“After work?”

Confusion once again but he slowly replies, “Alright.”

You scurry past him, shouting your goodbye while exiting the room and hurrying to the women’s department. Seonghwa’s smile from the tape is still blazing across your brain in vivid colour and no matter how much you try not to think about it, you can still see the lascivious look in his eyes as he began to remove his boxers.

You’ll tell him after work, you think desperately, even though it will be mortifying and he most likely will never speak to you again.

As long as you get through this shift without losing your cool, everything should be fine. Just don’t think about him on the tape. Don’t think about him having sex and recording it. Don’t think about how relaxed he looked. Don’t think about how sexy his body looked.

Should be simple.

You manage to avoid Seonghwa the entire day, including an awkward moment where you wedged yourself into a clothing rack as he walked by. You were worried about blurting out what was on the tape in the middle of his work shift or even worse – admitting that you were curious about how he filmed himself doing such things and how it felt to let go with a camera on. In quiet moments when a customer wasn’t bothering you, your mind travels back to him like an overplayed record.

You have a difficult time wrapping your head around the Seonghwa on the tape and the Seonghwa in reality. Always polite, yet distant, always kind but professional, in the few days you’ve known him, you’ve bounced between wanting him physically and believing his personality would keep a deeper connection from potentially forming.

But on the tape, you viewed Seonghwa as to how he truly is. There is no façade when the camera is on him. You see him unfiltered. The hint of mischief in his smile, that sense of freedom when he was jogging towards the waves, his quiet confidence when he was talking dirty – why were such things hidden in his day to day life?

By the time the end of your shift comes, you are anxious to get the tape and tell Seonghwa you need to talk. Since you were finishing shifts at the same time, you figured you’d wait for him in the break room. It is a little past seven by the time you enter. The break room has a couple of employees milling around but not San, who snuck out an hour earlier in order to hit up the club with Wooyoung.

Standing in front of your locker, you reach for the lock but as your fingers graze the cold metal, you realize with a jolt it is unlocked. With a small sigh, you realize San must have opened it earlier. You had a bottle of ibuprofen in your locker that he would use occasionally and eventually gave him your locker combination so he would stop bothering you.

But as you reach for your bag, your eyes narrow. Heart thudding, you rummage around in it with growing panic. The VHS tape isn’t in the bag. The tape isn’t in the bag.

“What the fuck?” You hiss in between your teeth, your heart plummeting.

You are about to upend the bag onto the floor when Seonghwa’s voice cuts through. “Hey, finishing up too?”

Surprised, you jump, flattening your back against the locker, clutching the bag against your chest. “Seonghwa! Hey! Hi!”

“Lots of enthusiasm for work today,” He notes, removing his work vest. His slender fingers twist the dial on his locker. You stare at them, momentarily transfixed. He glances at you. “What?”

“Nothing. No, that’s a lie. Seonghwa, I seem to have misplaced the tape.”

“Oh, Scream? Nah, San came to me earlier and said he noticed it was in your locker. I told him you watched it and he grabbed it before he left to give to his roommate. He said he was cutting out early to head to the club or something. Yeosang…that’s his roommate, right? San mentioned that Yeosang was gonna watch it with him and everyone else later tonight.”

Every word out of his mouth, every word tumbling out of his beautifully plush lips, makes you want to sink into the planet’s core. The panic that had been wiggling in your brain while looking for the tape is now washing over your body like a cold wave.

You picture Yeosang, whom you have only met briefly before, hitting play on the video. A room filled with his friends plus San and Wooyoung. The video starting, them seeing Seonghwa. How long would they let the tape run? Probably to where you ejected it. Enough for them to know what is on that tape, enough for them to know what Seonghwa does for fun.

You drop your bag to the floor in shock, reaching out for Seonghwa. Your hand grips the front of his sweater. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Seonghwa,” You say in a choked voice.

He looks a bit flustered, eyes darting over your shoulder to see if anyone else is seeing this. “H-hey, I…” He swallows hard. “I…”

“Seonghwa, that movie isn’t on the tape.”

His nerves, possibly because he thought you were literally throwing yourself at him during work, are now washed away in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Scream is not on that tape. It’s…something else,” You steel yourself, plunging forward, “It’s a home video. Of you and your ex.”

The colour immediately drains from Seonghwa’s face. Your grip loosens on his shirt, watching as he goes through a myriad of facial expressions before settling on something that looks blandly neutral. You’re amazed at how quickly he collects himself.

“I didn’t watch it,” You say hurriedly, talking a mile a minute, “Well, I watched like 3 or 4 minutes but then it was starting to get a little….anyway, I shut it off then. I was going to tell you. I brought it back today so I could tell you after work. I just didn’t think San was going…okay, it’s fine. It’s fine. We’ll page him. He’ll know to call here, right? I’ll just page him.”

Seonghwa takes a slow deep breath. You can’t tell if he wants to scream, cry, or punch something. His calm demeanor does nothing to relax your own nerves. You don’t know what he is thinking. You go back to digging through your bag, pulling out the tiny phone number and address book you keep in there. Quickly, you head to the break room phone, yanking it off the receiver while flipping through the book to find San’s beeper number. You page him, hurriedly inputting the phone number of the store before hanging up.

“Okay, we’ll just wait here for a few minutes. He’ll call back.”

You aren’t sure if Seonghwa heard you. Looking over your shoulder, you see him standing in the same exact spot, his back to you.

“Uh…Seonghwa?” You say tentatively. “Are you freaking out?”

He turns around then, his features still amazingly collected in an extremely calm appearance. “Do you know where San lives?”

“Where he lives? Yeah, I do. Oh, you want to go there?” You glance at the clock. “Yeah, I mean, it might be too early for him to be at the club. But shouldn’t we wait in case he calls?”

“No,” He says curtly, “You’ll come with me and show me where his place is.”

“Oh – oh, okay. Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

You can hardly keep up with Seonghwa’s long strides, scampering behind him as you exit the store and into the chilly weather. Tightening the hoodie you’ve managed to shove yourself into while following him, you get in his car silently. Even though Seonghwa is amazingly calm, you can tell he is on edge. The veneer he portrays to the world is on thin ice and you can almost feel the roiling tension under his skin. He starts the car and the radio plays softly.

Pulling out of the parking spot, Seonghwa gets to the exit and grunts, “Tell me how to get to his place.”

“Okay,” You say, adding on, “You’ll take a left at the light,” You hesitate before going, “Seonghwa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.’’

His hands tighten on the wheel, the only indication of his stress. “It isn’t your fault. I should have checked the tape before I gave it to you. Due to my move and breakup, things are all over the place. I don’t even know how it ended up in the Scream case.”

“Even so, I should have turned it off immediately. I just…” What do you even say? I was entranced by how different you were on camera. I’m deeply attracted to you and I want to get to know the version of you that was on the tape. I’m curious about what you do for fun. Maybe a little too intrigued for my own good.

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa interrupts you swiftly, “I really don’t want to discuss the tape while this is on.” He gestures to the radio which is currently playing Supermodel (You Better Work). “Just a little too ridiculous for me right now.”

You fall silent, the words tumbling around in your chest. “A right up here,” You mumble after a couple of minutes.

You know it is a morally grey area to keep thinking about Seonghwa in the bedroom, talking openly about getting his dick sucked and filming it. You know it’s wrong to wonder what the rest of the tape looked like. Your curiosity feels like a mark against your moral code.

Fifteen minutes later, you have pulled up to the apartment complex that San resides in. Getting out of the car, you study the building, trying to remember what number his apartment is.

“The door,” Seonghwa points, “You don’t happen to have a key to get into the foyer, do you?”

“No. I guess we can buzz and see if anyone answers. But I…I can’t remember his apartment number.”

He looks at you swiftly. “Please try to remember.” You can tell it is taking him great effort to keep his voice even and not start shaking you.

But you’ve only been here a couple of times so nothing appears in your head. Seonghwa takes off towards the door, giving you no choice but to follow. He stands in front of the door, looking around to see the chances of someone coming by so he could slink in after them.

“You remember it yet?”

“No, sorry.”

He turns to the set of apartment numbers written out across the buzzers and randomly hits one. No answer. He presses another one.

“Is this your plan?” You ask.

“Yes,” He replies calmly.

“What are you going to do if someone answers?”

“Lie.”

You aren’t sure what to say. This is yet another new side of Seonghwa, one driven by the desperation of someone seeing the tape and finding out what he’s really like.

On the fourth buzz, someone gruffly goes, “Who is it?” The speaker crackles.

“Hi, I live a few places down from you and forgot my key,” Seonghwa says smoothly, “I’m so sorry to bother you. I just wanted to get buzzed in real quick.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The door clicks open and the speaker goes silent.

Seonghwa grabs the door handle, shooting you a look as he holds it open. You slip past him into the entrance of the building. Once you stand in the foyer, staring at the row of small mailboxes, the apartment number bounces back into your brain.

“It’s #1117!” You declare, happy at your brain’s ability to recall such a fact.

“Great, let’s go,” Seonghwa says while walking towards the elevator, pressing the button.

The foyer is silent as the two of you wait for the elevator to come down. You bounce on the balls of your feet a little, your nerves getting the best of you. You’re worried about Seonghwa, you’re worried about someone seeing that tape and his secret getting out and you’re still dealing with the fact your mind won’t drop mental images that it shouldn’t be thinking about.

In the elevator, Seonghwa exhales slowly. It is the only sign of tension brewing in him. You marvel at how calm and collected he is. If you were in this situation, there would be no chance of being in control. You’re barely in control of your emotions now, dealing with something that technically would have no impact on your life.

The doors glide open and Seonghwa marches down the quiet hallway. His steps are muffled against the carpet, coming to a stop in front of San and Yeosang’s apartment. He rings the doorbell but there is no reply. He tries again. Nothing.

“Maybe they really have gone to the club already,” You suggest.

In response, Seonghwa bangs his fist against the door before resting his hand against the wood, closing his eyes. You can feel the energy crackling off him, just like that moment in the break room the other day - that same sensation of him wrangling himself under control, shoving his real self into a small box and tying it up with a bow.

“Do you know what club they go to?”

“Yeah. It’s nearby.”

“Let’s go.” He turns around to return to the elevator.

“Wait,” You hurry after Seonghwa, “We’re just going to go to the club and what?”

“Ask where the tape is. If it’s in the apartment, I’m going to ask for San to get it for me. If he still has it on him, I’ll just ask for it back.”

“How are you going to explain why you need it so badly without…you know.”

The elevator arrives and he steps inside. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when we get there.”

You stand next to him, feeling the warmth off his body. He’s wearing a form fitting white sweater today due to the temperature and you cannot help but notice how it lays across his chest. His black jeans are also snug against his slender waist. It is difficult to look at him and not picture the images of him on the beach and in the bedroom. Cheeks getting warm, you stare steadfastly ahead at the elevator doors, which finally open to release you from the ever growing tension.

Back outside, Seonghwa is hurriedly walking back to the car. The sun has fully dipped below the horizon now, the last strands of dying daylight long gone. You cross your arms, the cold seeping into the fabric of your hoodie.

“Seonghwa,” You say tentatively as he reaches the car, “Do you wanna talk about it now? Since Rupaul isn’t playing, I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

“I don’t want to make things awkward between us.”

His hand, hovering over the handle of the car door, drops back to his side. His eyes are on you, focused in a way they haven’t been since the news of the tape landing in San’s hands were uttered to him. You suddenly feel exposed.

Seonghwa crosses the small gap in a couple of seconds, looking at you intensely. “What do you want to talk about exactly? You want to discuss something, surely, and I don’t think that it is about your apology.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You mumble quickly, balking at the way his eyes tear through your defenses.

“You want to know more about the tape? You want to know what I do in my spare time?”

“N-no!” You lie, “No, I just didn’t want this to mess up anything between us.”

Seonghwa shakes his head, pulling away from you and exhaling slowly before he loses his cool. “There isn’t time to sit and chat about everything. Can you please just get in the car and tell me where this club San goes to is?”

You nod silently and Seonghwa turns around, getting into the car. Rooted to the spot for a moment, your heart thrumming in your chest, you try to ignore that little voice in your head – a voice entirely new, one that you don’t know what to do with.

What if you stopped getting yourself back in control, Seonghwa? What would that look like? I want to see what it looks like. I want to see what the real you is and I want to keep pressing against that exterior until it cracks.

You’ve never dealt with such a desire before. It is as if a giant dog is tugging you along on a leash and you can’t pull it back. You can dig your heels against the pavement, yank on the leash and beg for the dog to stop but it doesn’t work. The little voice in your head, the centre of your curiosity about Seonghwa mixed with your attraction to him, is a dangerous thing.

Perhaps it isn’t just Seonghwa who is always struggling to remain cool, calm and collected in every situation. Maybe you’re not so different from him.

Twenty minutes later, Seonghwa is parking at the club San frequents. The place is crowded with a line snaking around the outside of the building. Seonghwa stares at the line quietly after turning off the car. You know what he is thinking – time is important and he isn’t going to waste it waiting in a long line with the risk of the bouncer saying no. His fingers are curled lightly around the steering wheel, his brows furrowed together in concentration.

“What’s the plan? You gonna gank someone’s VIP pass?” You joke lightly.

He shifts, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and opening it. His fingers glide across the bills inside as he counts them quickly before looking in your direction. “How much cash do you have on you?”

“What?”

“I’ll pay you back,” Seonghwa says impatiently, “We’re just going to bribe the bouncer and skip the line.”

“Is – is that allowed?”

“No.”

“Oh. Uhm,” You fish your wallet out of your bag. “I have a hundred bucks.”

“Great, and I have two hundred,” He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers at you.

“Wait, we’re going to give the bouncer three hundred dollars?” You ask incredulously.

“No, we’re going to start with a hundred and go from there,” Seonghwa explains, “They might be content with that. Your money is last resort.” When you hesitate, he sighs. “I told you, I’m good for it. I’ll pay you back immediately. I’ll pay you back tonight. As soon as I get the tape. Don’t start wiggin out on me now.”

“I am not wiggin out,” You say defensively, “I just have never bribed someone before.”

“Technically, I’m bribing. You’re merely watching.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, an awkward silence settles across the car. Seonghwa neatly averts his gaze, pretending to be fascinated with the money in his wallet. You swallow hard, unable to stop yourself from thinking about the tape.

You thrust the money at him which he takes with a mumbled thanks before getting out of the car. You look down at your hoodie and work pants, unable to recall if this place has a dress code or not. Probably, given the long line. You sigh, opening the car door and trailing after Seonghwa.

He stops at one point, looking over his shoulder at you. “Are you comfortable pretending we’re on a date?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to bribe the bouncer under the guise that I’m trying to impress you. Can I put my arm around you when we get up there? I won’t do anything else.”

“How do you come up with this shit?” You say without thinking, “The entire night, you just seamlessly come up with these ideas and lies and stories.” Every interaction we’ve had before tonight has been pleasant and normal to the point where I thought you were attractive but a little boring, is what you don’t add on to the sentence, and now I’m seeing all sorts of sides to you I never thought lurked inside.

Seonghwa ignores the question, instead asking one of his own. “Are you comfortable with me putting my arm around your waist?”

“Yeah, fine,” You mumble although the idea of him touching your body is making your skin warm.

“Alright. Try not to look so nervous.”

Seonghwa walks towards the club with a confidence you cannot hope to possibly mimic. Gone is the easy going attitude he carries at work. Instead, he acts as though he owns the place and is merely popping by to give it a look. His arm circles around your waist as the bouncer comes into view. You can hear people complaining about him cutting the line but Seonghwa doesn’t pay them any attention.

His arm around your waist is distracting in an agonizing way. Every nerve in your body has awakened to him and the desire is dizzying. As you approach the bouncer, Seonghwa nods his head in the man’s direction, extending his hand outward and slipping the hundred dollars in his palm.

“How’s it hangin?” Seonghwa asks casually, pulling you closer against him.

The bouncer glances quickly down at the money and replies evenly, “Could be better.”

Another hundred dollars is given and the bouncer pretends to study his clipboard and nods, moving to the side. “You’re on the list. Have a good night.”

Seonghwa nods, guiding you past him and into the club. On the way in, he brings his lips close to your ear and murmurs, “See? Didn’t even need your cash.”

You’re feeling slightly in awe of the Seonghwa on display tonight – gone is the fake work personality, just someone tackling the situation at hand in whatever way would work best even if it included lying. His arm is still around your waist, his body angled at a slight slant as he leads you through the crowd of people and onto the main dance floor.

The music is loud, cramming your skull immediately as a crush of people squeeze against Seonghwa and yourself. The flickering lights dance over Seonghwa’s hair as his grip tightens on your waist so the two of you don’t get separated. He pulls you along until he finds an alcove, releasing his hold and facing you.

“Do you know where they’d be?” He shouts.

“The dance floor! San always talks about dancing a lot when he’s here!” You yell back.

Seonghwa scowls. “I fucking hate clubs!”

Your hand reaches for his, pulling him out of the alcove and towards the main dance floor while This Is Your Night blasts so loudly that you can feel it vibrate along your bones. Wiggling through the vast swarm of people, you successfully make your way to the main dance floor. It is impossible to find San in the crush of people. Seonghwa tugs on your hand, getting your attention while pointing to a large staircase leading to the second floor.

You nod and he takes the lead, quickly lost in a sea of gauzy club clothes in colours that could cause someone’s retinas to bleed, seeing more cleavage and mini dresses than you thought possible in one space. Your hoodie and work pants and lack of high heels have you receiving a few confused glances as Seonghwa works his way through the crowd.

Of course, you also notice that Seonghwa is attracting a lot of attention in his own way. No one seems to care that his outfit isn’t club attire in the same way they cared about yours. While making your way up the stairs, you can hear giggles follow as people check Seonghwa out. This sparks an intense irritation in your chest for reasons you can’t fully explain.

Standing on one of the stairs, you gaze out across the dance floor, squinting to try to spot San or Wooyoung. Someone bangs into your side, cursing at you standing there. Seonghwa turns around sharply, glowering at the woman with such an intensity that she scampers up the rest of the stairs, wobbling on her strappy sandals with huge heels. His hand is on your lower back protectively.

“We are standing right on the stairs,” You shout at him.

“I don’t care,” He says crossly, “They can move around us. The staircase is huge.”

Seonghwa’s gaze is steady on yours and for a few seconds, time seems to stretch out. The music becomes background noise, his hand against your back, his body facing yours. He has one strand of hair that has come out of place, betraying his inner turmoil that he has been attempting to hide all night.

You bring your hand upwards, pushing his hair back into place before you can stop yourself. He reaches for you, fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. Your breath catches, thrown off by his touch and the intensity of his stare. For a brief second, you think it is finally going to happen – the fissures that have formed in Seonghwa’s carefully constructed polite personality are going to shatter –

But then, over his shoulder, you spot San weaving his way away from the bar, holding two drinks over his head, heading towards a small table where Wooyoung is.

“I found them!” You exclaim and the moment passes as Seonghwa looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he spots San.

He swiftly turns around to head back down the stairs, holding onto your hand again. His impatience is exposed through the way he practically shoves his way through the crowd. The time the grumbles are not of admiration but of annoyance. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to care.

San’s eyes widen when he spots you and one eyebrow raises at the sight of Seonghwa holding your hand. Suddenly embarrassed, you pull your hand away from him although Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice. He’s on a mission and only one thing is on his mind.

The print on San’s shirt defies logic and reasoning, distantly reminding you of a Taco Bell you stepped into a few weeks ago. Paired with even more colourful pants, you are unsure how it took this long to spot him in the crowd.

“What are you two doing here?” San exclaims loudly.

Without preamble, Seonghwa goes, “I need the Scream tape back.”

“You came all this way for that?” He asks confused.

Wooyoung slides out of the small booth he was occupying, plucking the drink out of San’s hand. Tonight, he’s wearing a nylon dark pink button up with three of the buttons undone, exposing his tanned chest. His pants are so tight that you aren’t sure how he even got into them.

Wooyoung waves at you and goes, “Who is your friend?”

“New coworker,” San exclaims over the music before turning his attention back to Seonghwa. “I don’t have it. I gave it to Yeosang when I got home and he took it with him when he left.”

Seonghwa’s hands flex at his sides, a motion only you notice. “Where is he?”

“I think he’s out with Mingi and Jongho tonight. They were gonna watch the movie at Mingi’s place. We were going to meet them there later.”

“Where is he now?” Seonghwa grinds out between clenched teeth.

San is picking up on the tension, glancing at you but your expression gives nothing away. “Is everything alright? Why do you need the tape back so badly?”

“I’ll explain later. I just need it back tonight,” Seonghwa replies.

Wooyoung, who has been silent this entire conversation, his eyes bouncing between the two men, throws his arm around San’s shoulders while pointing at Seonghwa, still holding his drink. “Who is this guy? I like him. He gets right to the point. He’s very money, you know what I mean?”

You interrupt quickly. “It’s to do with me, San. Please don’t ask any questions.”

It’s a lie, of course, but you know San will respect your request. You can feel Seonghwa’s eyes flick to you for a second.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I don’t mean to be pushy. Yeosang is at the minigolf course. The one with the big wizard in the middle, you know it?”

“I do, yeah. Thanks for the help.”

“It’s all good,” San replies.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hang?” Wooyoung asks Seonghwa, “We’re just getting started here.”

“I appreciate the offer but we gotta bounce. Nice meeting you.” Seonghwa is already turning away, eyes darting towards the exit.

You give the two men a small wave and then it is back to being smushed in the crowd, wiggling through the writhing bodies as the music pulsates around you. You’re walking behind Seonghwa, his hand searching for yours so the two of you don’t get separated. Your fingers curl around his and you find yourself studying the curve of his neck, the way his shoulders look in his sweater. From this angle, you can just make out the muscles underneath the tight fabric.

Seonghwa glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re alright. You can’t read his gaze; something shifts behind it, ever changing and unfolding. In that moment, it feels as if you’ve known him forever, in a thousand different locations across a thousand different universes.

Back into the night air, Seonghwa turns to face you. “Do you know what minigolf course San was talking about?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Great, come on.” He takes off across the parking lot towards the car. His back is illuminated by the neon from the sign of the club, dousing him in a bright blue that his hair soaks up.

You follow, catching up with him as Seonghwa asks, “What are you gonna tell San when he asks why you needed the tape?”

“I don’t know. I just said that because I knew he would drop it.”

“Well, you bought us time,” He remarks, opening the door to the car, “Tell me how to get to the minigolf course.”

Back in the passenger seat, you can still feel the tension rolling off Seonghwa. Unable to help yourself, you try to reassure him. “We’ll find Yeosang there. I’m sure he will have the tape on him. It’s nearby too.”

Seonghwa brushes off your words. “Just tell me how to get there.”

It takes fifteen minutes to get to the minigolf course. A large garish wizard hat juts out of the centre of the course, covered in purple lights to make it glow. There is an assortment of other tacky objects sticking upwards – palm trees, a poorly made replica of the leaning tower of Pisa, a UFO that used to rotate five years ago but has since broken down and not been repaired.

Seonghwa gazes at the sight through the windshield, clearly assessing the situation before getting out of the car. You take off after him, fighting the urge to grab his hand. It made sense in the club, not here.

As you approach the entrance, the sound of top 40 radio plays loudly over speakers. Seonghwa bypasses the ticket booth completely, instead opting to head directly onto the course. But a bored looking employee glances up from the magazine he’s reading and gets to his feet quickly.

“Whoa, hey there, homeslice. I need to see the ticket.” He extends his hand out to Seonghwa.

“I’m not playing,” He says quickly, “I just am getting something from a friend.”

“Sure, I can just let anyone pass by without a ticket,” The man rolls his eyes, “No ticket, no entrance.”

“It’ll take less than five minutes,” Seonghwa protests, the agitation at being so close and so far starting to get to him.

You hover by his side and quietly go, “Seonghwa, let’s just go buy a ticket.”

“I don’t want to buy a ticket. The ticket is for playing minigolf and I’m not playing,” He grinds out, staring at the attendant, “So, just let me in.”

The attendant, who is stuck wearing an ugly polyester blue button up, looks positively thrilled at finally having something interesting happening. “No can do, dude,” He says gleefully.

You grab Seonghwa’s upper arm, briefly distracted by the firm muscles underneath, before carting him away from the entrance. While gesturing to the ticket booth, you go, “Let’s just buy a ticket. Do you really wanna throw down with the guy working the minigolf course? We won’t get to Yeosang that way.”

“I don’t care,” He says stubbornly, “He’s being an asshole.”

Your irritation gets the best of you. “If you could wrangle your repressed anger under control for two seconds –”

“My what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Seonghwa. The entire night, you’ve been furious at me and just won’t say it. So, you just shove everything down and ignore it and pretend you’re so calm and collected but you’re not –”

Seonghwa takes a step towards you. His demeanor is icy cold now. “Not everything is about you,” He replies in a tone that could frost over a window, “As much as you want it to be.”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell does that mean?”

“If I’ve been repressing anger all night, you’ve been holding back too. The multiple attempts to steer the conversation back to how sorry you are, how you found the tape, how little you watched of it.” Another step closer, close enough to touch now. “Why don’t you stop bullshitting and just admit you wanna ask me questions about the tape and what I do in my spare time?”

You hadn’t thought it was that obvious. Seonghwa striking the centre of your heart with his accusation makes your breath catch. You can’t bring yourself to reply.

“The tape not only has me on it but also my ex. It violates her privacy for anyone else to see it, not just mine. That’s the most important thing going on right now, not you having some sort of sexual awakening at seeing a few minutes of it.”

You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, knowing Seonghwa is correct but also feeling exposed at the same time. He stalks off past you, going towards the ticket booth. The employee at the entrance is gawking at the two of you although he didn’t hear anything said.

“You and your boyfriend are pretty intense,” He says over the din of top forty music.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You mumble, looking over your shoulder at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa is smiling casually at the person working the ticket booth. All earlier signs of irritation are wiped clean from his beautiful face. He is chatting as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Was I really that obvious? Or is he just that good at reading people? You are embarrassed but manage to make your facial expression look as placid as possible when Seonghwa returns to you.

“Ready?” He asks as if the two of you hadn’t just been at each other’s throats a couple of minutes ago.

After you nod, Seonghwa thrusts the tickets at the attendant who takes them in an over the top gesture and tacks on, “Have a good night!”

Entering the minigolf course, you stop to grab one of the little putters. Seonghwa notices and drawls, “Really?”

You hand it off to him. “Yes, really. You wanna blend in or look like the weird guy stalking across a golf course?”

He takes it, holding it daintily with his long fingers while studying it. “You were right. About the ticket. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

You’re holding your own putter now, staring at him. “I know. I wouldn’t think clearly in your situation either.”

Seonghwa looks at you for a long moment. You get the sense he wants to say more but he gives a small shake of his head, turning his attention back to the course. “Come on. We’ll just start at the first hole and wander around until you spot them.”

The next ten minutes are spent navigating the busy course which includes a moment where Seonghwa ducks to avoid a little kid swinging the putter and another where you almost lose your footing and awkwardly trip off a tiny fake bridge. There are a few questioning glances shot in your direction as the two of you bypass playing completely while you try to spot Yeosang.

Finally, near the gigantic wizard hat, you spot him along with who you assume is Mingi and Jongho. Yeosang, in baggy jeans and an oversized green hoodie, looks to be talking very animatedly with a tall man who is wildly gesturing. The other man is watching them with an amused expression on his face as if it is a very funny TV show.

“There they are.” You nudge Seonghwa to get his attention. “Are you doing the talking or am I?”

“You start and I’ll follow. Yeosang is familiar with you and doesn’t know me.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

You cut across a particularly ugly ice cream cone that is the centre of hole number ten and call out Yeosang’s name. He looks up in surprise but waves when he sees you.

“Wassup? Didn’t know you like minigolfing,” He says as you and Seonghwa stop in front of the group. “Mingi and I were just having a disagreement about how many hits he took to get the ball in the hole.”

The tall man, who is dressed entirely in acid wash denim, protests. “It was four strokes. You’re saying five and that’s not true.”

The other guy, who must be Jongho, goes, “Can we please move on? I want to get an Icee.”

“In this temperature?” Mingi asks, momentarily distracted.

Jongho tugs on his long sleeve, wearing a plaid dress shirt with all the buttons undone, a black t-shirt underneath, topped off with a simple pair of jeans. “It isn’t that cold in this.”

Seonghwa, who is already radiating an intense energy that will be overflowing at any second, swiftly interrupts, “Sorry, but I was talking to San and he said you had the Scream tape?”

Yeosang nods. “Yeah, it’s in my bag. Oh! You must be the coworker he is borrowing it from?”

“That’s right. I just need to see it for a second please.”

“Sure,” He turns around, scooping his bag off the ground which it had been unceremoniously dumped on and pulls out the tape, handing it to Seonghwa. “There you go.”

“Thanks so much,” Seonghwa replies calmly.

He immediately pries his fingers into the slots and begins to unspool the tape, wildly tugging it out onto the ground. Everyone, including yourself, falls silent, watching as Seonghwa then drops the plastic shell onto the ground and begins to take the putter to it. His hair falls out of place as he beats the shit out of the VHS tape with the putter, the shell cracking from the sheer force at which he strikes it.

“This dude is wacked,” Mingi mumbles.

“I heard Scream was a good movie,” Jongho says, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Guess we won’t find out now,” Yeosang replies dryly, “I suppose we’re watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 tonight.”

Seonghwa exhales, his cheeks puffing out while doing so, tossing the putter to the ground while scooping up the remains of the VHS tape. He runs his fingers through his hair although it doesn’t fix it.

“Thanks guys. Have a good night.” Seonghwa says as if he just didn’t go postal in the middle of the minigolf course.

He glances at you before taking off back the way he came. You give an apologetic look at Yeosang, unsure what to say and settling on nothing. Following Seonghwa, who is still holding onto what little of the tape remained, with the cheery pop music playing over the sound of laughter and people talking, you aren’t sure if speaking right now would help him. Does he need comfort? Is he relieved? He showed no hesitation in destroying the tape immediately. Had that been his plan the entire night?

Luckily for the attendant working the entrance, the exit loops around the other side of the course, taking you both into the parking lot before Seonghwa can start bickering with him again. He drops the pieces of the plastic casing into the nearest trash can although he is still holding the film, wrapping it carefully around his slender fingers.

“Seonghwa,” You say tentatively and he stops, looking over at you.

In the lights of the parking lot, Seonghwa is a slim figure with his black hair glowing. His breathing is slightly uneven, his features not nearly as collected as they’ve been all night. There is something raw wiggling underneath the surface of his composure, something you desperately want to touch.

“I’ll take you back to your place now,” He says roughly, “Come on.”

You don’t know what to reply with so you merely nod. A few minutes later, the car is pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. You quietly tell Seonghwa how to get to your apartment from here. The tape is in his lap, the film nestled like a snake in between his thighs. You wonder what he will do with it. Set it on fire, maybe. He seems intent on destroying it completely. You understand why but still feel a pain of regret in your chest. There would be no viewing the rest of the tape now.

You suddenly feel very tired. Between work and the entire events of the sex tape, you’re ready to crawl in bed and sleep in tomorrow. You lean back in the seat, staring idly out the window. The radio is playing music quietly and Seonghwa doesn’t say a word. You still get the sense he is wrangling himself in. Does he do that all the time? Why bother? Why shield yourself from people to the extent he does? You see his smile from the tape in your mind once again. To your surprise, you feel a spark of jealousy buried in your chest. His ex got to see the real Seonghwa while you’ve been seeing his façade. You want to know him like that. You want to touch him like that.

The silent admission to yourself is unsettling. It’s been ages since you’ve wanted someone. Your attraction to Seonghwa earlier this week seems easier to digest when you thought your personalities wouldn’t be compatible. But his words outside the minigolf course were correct – those few minutes of him on your TV screen are making something deep inside you stir.

The streetlights swim lazily across Seonghwa as he drives silently. They blend in with his white sweater before appearing on his tanned skin, small pools of light that travel over his body before eventually being lost behind the car.

When he parks at your apartment complex, he goes, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

This time, you don’t refuse. Back into the cold air, you stop at the outskirts of the pool near the staircase to the second floor.

“Seonghwa,” You say again, your hand resting against the cold metal of the banister, “Now that you got the tape, and everything is sorted out, I really –”

“Don’t,” He says swiftly, “You’re going to apologize again. It isn’t your fault. I already told you that.”

“I know what you said,” You are two steps up on the staircase, looking slightly down at Seonghwa, whose hand is inches from yours on the banister, “But outside of the golf course…”

“Was I too harsh?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re pretending all the time,” You say after a beat of silence, “When I met you earlier this week, you were pleasant enough. But it’s obvious that isn’t what you’re really like. Just the few minutes of the tape showed that to me. And I’ve caught it once or twice before, at work, when you are obviously shoving your real self back down. Throughout tonight, I’ve seen glimpses of who you actually are – the quick lying, the flashes of irritation, your nerves at someone seeing the tape…I just don’t understand why you hide it everywhere but on a VHS tape.”

There. You said what you’ve been thinking the whole night. Seonghwa’s face doesn’t change the entire time you speak. But you aren’t fooled by it anymore.

Seonghwa places his feet on the first step of the staircase. He’s extremely close to you now; his body’s warmth seeps into your skin. You fight the urge to place your hands against his chest to pull on his sweater so that he will kiss you.

You aren’t sure what his reply was going to be but you aren’t prepared for the way his voice drops to almost a murmur. “You’re really intrigued about the tape, aren’t you? I wonder what makes you so curious. It is the idea of letting the camera see all of you for who you truly are? Is it just the idea of fucking and recording it that you find so compelling? Maybe both.”

You’ve gone still, frozen in surprise at the words leaving his mouth. He leans forward, his lips so close to your ear that your heart skips a beat. “Do you regret turning the tape off when you did? Your conscience prevailed; you did the morally right thing in a few minutes. Others would have watched the entire thing. But some part of you wishes it kept it running so you could watch me fuck my ex, listen to what we talked about. You know, I was so focused on getting rid of the tape, I don’t even know what one this one contains. We filmed so many,” He lingers on the last word as your brain fills up with mental images of tape after tape of Seonghwa, “What happened in the first few minutes of the tape?”

Shakily, you manage to whisper, “You were on a beach. And then in a diner. Finally, a hotel room.”

You don’t see Seonghwa smile but you can feel it, like an arrow in the dark, so fast that the sensation is gone in a second. “The vacation tape,” He pauses and continues, “I prefer being on film. Being seen. I feel comfortable and at ease. The camera misses nothing. The lens cuts through everything. All the noise and the bullshit. It isn’t about watching it back later. It isn’t about sharing it. I fill a tape, shove it in the collection. Destroy them when the relationship ends. Rinse and repeat. It’s about capturing that one moment and putting it on film. Everything when the camera isn’t on feels like bullshit. I feel like bullshit.”

“Why?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Dunno. Just always have. I only exist when the camera is on. Otherwise, I can’t be myself. Been that way forever. I’ll ask you again – did you regret turning the tape off?”

It doesn’t even enter your mind to lie. “Yes.”

“You wanted to watch me fuck my ex? Or did you want to be on that tape with me?”

Your body is growing hot all over. You wish Seonghwa would touch you. His hand is so close to yours that you would settle for him just to brush his fingers against your skin.

“Yes,” You whisper so quietly that if he weren’t so close to you, it would have been impossible to hear. You aren’t even sure what question you’re answering. Maybe it is both.

But Seonghwa pulls away abruptly then. With his warmth gone, it feels like a hole has opened in your chest. He runs his fingers through his hair but you take note of the slightly uneven way he is breathing. You want to grab him, see him for who he really is with no pretenses, have the camera lens on his body while he –

“I need to get home. I won’t be able to relax until I finish destroying the film,” His eyes trail along your body quickly and it feels deeply personal to have Seonghwa look at you in such a manner, “Goodnight.”

You don’t want him to go. You want him to follow you to your apartment and fuck you silly. But he turns around and in a couple of seconds, he has rounded the corner, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your desires and the briefest glimmer of the man Seonghwa truly is.

Monday, October 13th, 1997

“You gonna explain why Seonghwa opened up a can of whoop-ass on a VHS tape in the middle of a minigolf course on Saturday night or am I not privy to that information?”

You stifle a groan, unable to duck and dodge San any longer. You had yesterday off, which didn’t end up being as fun as it sounded, due to the fact all you did was lay in bed running the events of Saturday night over and over in your head.

And you still hadn’t come up with any sort of realistic story to tell San about the tape especially since Seonghwa had opted to destroy it with a minigolf putter.

“It’s complicated,” You finally settle on.

San’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Complicated? Should I be concerned about your little work crush? Could he be a little…unwell?”

“He’s not unwell,” You say defensively, “It’s just complicated. Can you just drop it, please? It was his tape, after all.”

“Just makes no sense. You said the situation had to do with you. But why did Seonghwa go postal on the tape like that?”

You’re starting to get a headache. You’ve had way too much coffee before coming into work and your nerves are frazzled between the idea of seeing Seonghwa and how much time you’ve spent analyzing his words to you Saturday night before he left. Yes you told him on the staircase, yes you wanted to watch the entire tape, yes you wanted to see him have sex with his ex and yes, you wanted to be on film with him. A jarring admission, one that you’re still grappling with.

“San, my break ended a few minutes ago. Just please, for the sake of our friendship, I’m asking you to drop the entire thing.”

He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Fine. Consider it dropped. However, it is not forgotten.”

“I’ll take it, thanks,” You reply, heading quickly to the exit. “Listen, I’ll help you with inventory sometime this week, okay?”

“You’re just sucking up to me.”

“Yes, but you hate inventory,” You fire back over your shoulder.

“I do so I’ll accept it!” He calls after you.

Back in the store, you meander your way towards to the women’s clothing department. Part of you is desperate to run into Seonghwa while the other part is dreading it. What do you even say to him? Just a simple hello? How can you look him in the face knowing his entire personality is carefully curated bullshit to hide who he really is? How can you talk to him after what he said to you last night? How can you hold a conversation when you are so desperate to have him?

You end up avoiding the shortcut through the men’s clothing section. Even so, your eyes carefully scan the area for any sight of him among the racks of ugly dresses and t-shirts. Once you’re safely in the dressing rooms, reorganizing and cleaning out the mess people leave behind, you relax slightly.

You wanted to watch me fuck my ex? Or did you want to be on that tape with me?

Seonghwa’s words bang around in your brain no matter how much you try to push them away. Even as you go through the motions of work, your mind lingers on how warm his body was so close to yours on the stairs, the low timber of his voice in your ear, and how he saw through you and all your pretenses.

In fact, you’re so swept up in work and your thoughts, that you don’t realize Seonghwa is in the dressing room area until he says your name. Flinching in surprise, you look over your shoulder.

�� He stands there in his blue work vest, his arms so full of clothes that it looks like they could spill onto the floor at any second. Seonghwa’s face is beautifully impassive. You get the sense he has also been avoiding you.

“Wanted to drop off all the women’s clothes that ended up in the men’s dressing rooms before my shift ends,” He explains in a clipped tone.

“Right. Thanks.” You move closer, trying to take the clothes from him.

But there is simply too much and a good portion falls onto the floor. Your hands brush against his in the mess of fabric, sending your heart racing so quickly that it almost makes your chest hurt. Seonghwa is staring at you through his long lashes although his eyes dart away when yours meet his.

You manage to wrangle a good chunk of the clothes away, tossing it onto the small table at the end of the hallway that you use to organize them. “You can just dump the rest here.”

Seonghwa does so and then an awkward silence settles across the empty dressing rooms. The store closes in ten minutes. You didn’t think you’d be seeing Seonghwa at all today. We filmed so many he had whispered, teasing you with the mental images of whatever lurked on those tapes.

“Do you want any help?” He offers.

“I got it, thanks,” You say quickly, knowing the longer he stands next to you, the higher chance there is at the conversation going sideways.

His fingers are touching one of the t-shirts, his expression unfocused. “I wanted to apologize.”

You hesitate and then go, “For what?”

“I was pretty…intense Saturday night. I also talked to you out of line at the end there,” He swallows, staring at the pile of clothes as if they were a fascinating creature, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

You feel stuck. It would be simpler to accept the apology and put the entire thing in the past. But a much larger part of you has shifted since discovering what Seonghwa is really like, brought to life by his words and the images on the tape, growing louder every passing moment. It is difficult to ignore these new feelings inside your chest.

“It’s all good. It was a stressful situation. I think it would make anyone start trippin although San is asking questions and I have nothing to tell him. It is a little harder to come up with a story when you…beat the shit out of the tape in front of everyone.”

“Yeah,” He looks at you sheepishly. “I lost my cool for a sec.”

“Cracked your pleasant exterior there,” You joke quietly.

His lips twist up into a smile for a brief second. You’re feeling hot all over, knowing it would be far easier just to let the conversation stop here. Easier to return to the way things were before the tape. Let Seonghwa be a work crush and nothing else.

“But, uhm,” You pick up a shirt, carefully folding it so that you don’t have to look at him, “I didn’t mind how you talked to me. At the end of the night.”

Seonghwa’s breathing changes slightly, something you wouldn’t have noticed a few days ago. But it is as if viewing the tape, learning about who he is and spending Saturday night with him has synced you up to Seonghwa in a new way.

“Is that right?” He finally replies, his voice even and without emotion.

“Yeah, I’ve been…thinking about what you said,” Your voice trembles slightly, betraying your nerves.

Seonghwa moves ever so slightly closer to you. Relief swoops through your body at his close proximity. “What about it?” He murmurs.

You take in a small breath and go, “I was thinking about asking you to come over. Tomorrow night.”

He hesitates for a small second. “To your place?”

“Yeah. I mean. If you’d want.” You are a mixture of anxiety and desire.

But you push through it to look at Seonghwa’s face. You recognize the expression this time – he is teying to maintain his calm exterior, aware that he is at work and in a public setting.

“Should I bring anything?” He asks in a forced nonchalant voice.

Your grip tightens on the shirt. After spending all day trying to dodge Seonghwa, you can’t believe how you’re cracking after a couple of minutes around him. But perhaps avoiding him was your own way of denying what you wanted.

“Maybe your camera,” You say with forced casualness.

But the words seem to crack Seonghwa. He moves closer to you, just as close as the time on the staircase. In a strangled voice, he goes, “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

Surprised, you exclaim, “What? No, not at all.”

His hand reaches out for you but then thinks better of it. Falling back to his side, he flexes his fingers. His voice drops to a whisper. “I work a closing tomorrow but I’ll come over afterwards.”

You’re done work at five tomorrow which gives you plenty of time to get ready for…whatever you’re getting into. Seonghwa’s gaze is heavy, his energy buzzing. You want to push him, crack him open fully so that you can experience what he is like without any barriers…and maybe you want the same thing for yourself too. You want to know what it would be like being stripped away of all things you carefully hide behind without even realizing it. You just didn’t know that such a thing was so desired until you saw Seonghwa on that tape.

You nod, wanting to say more but nerves getting the best of you. He pulls away, trying to control his breathing. There is a slight flush of colour creeping up his neck. You get a vivid mental image of being on top of him, your hands against his chest, taking him fully inside you –

Quickly, you look away, afraid your thoughts might be all over your face. Seonghwa wishes you a goodnight, leaving the dressing rooms quickly before the energy crackles and explodes, spilling out into work.

He works so hard to keep everything separate, after all.

Tuesday, October 14th, 1997

You’re looking out the window of the living room, staring at the unremarkable view. The neon of the Taco Bell sign washes over the street, bathing the cars in the bright colour for a second or two as they drive by. You can just make out the interior, a swirl of pink, blue and purple, like a little lighthouse in the night.

You don’t think you’ve never felt so nervous staring at Taco Bell before.

It’s past ten which means Seonghwa will be here in about twenty minutes. Having invited him on a whim, driven by a combination of lust and curiosity, you’re now dealing with the reality of what you suggested. In asking him to bring his camera, you’ve basically admitted to him and yourself that you want to see what filming together would be like. And while you’re aware that you can change your mind and tell him to forget it once he arrives, the truth of the matter is that you don’t want to do such a thing.

Your attraction to Seonghwa has only been heightened since seeing the tape, and your own sexual exploration seemed to be spilling out of you with a mighty need. As nervous as you feel, you also have no interest in denying it any longer.

You aren’t sure how long you stare out the window, spacing out, but a soft knock at the door startles your thoughts away. Exhaling slowly, you cross the small living room, opening the front door to see Seonghwa standing there.

He’s wearing a very colourful button up tucked into a pair of blue jeans. A bag is slung over his shoulder and his hair is a little messy from the chilly wind. Your heart skips a beat violently at the sight of him.

“Hey. Oh, uh, come in,” You say awkwardly, moving to the side as Seonghwa walks past, “How was work?”

“Fine, the usual. You know how it is. I like your place.”

You blink. “Really? I don’t think it’s anything exciting.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Well, I didn’t say it was exciting. I just like how comfortable it looks.”

“Thanks. How are you doing with unpacking your own place?”

Seonghwa places the bag on the coffee table while replying, “Besides the mishap with the tape, it has been uneventful.”

He speaks of the tape so candidly now although given the circumstances, why wouldn’t he?

“Did you and your ex live together long?” It no longer felt awkward to mention his last relationship – so much is different now with Seonghwa.

“We did although that seemed to be our undoing. Only lasted a few months after we moved in together,” He replies while turning to face you. “For the sake of honesty, I haven’t been with anyone else since my relationship ended. Does that bother you?”

“No because I haven’t either. I find those things…distracting. I just was focusing on work and other things in my life.”

“Am I a distraction?”

“What?”

He repeats himself.

Your cheeks grow warm. “I mean – technically, yes.”

Seonghwa is fighting off a smile. You can tell by the way he tilts his face away from your direction to look at your TV.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You offer.

“Just some water is fine, thanks.”

“Alright. Uh, please sit down. Don’t feel like you need to stand there.”

You scamper out of the living room, wishing your nerves would settle. Now that he is here, you feel scattered. Your attraction to him has grown tenfold in the last few days and you can’t remember the last time you’ve wanted someone this much.

Returning with a couple of glasses of water, you sit down next to Seonghwa on the couch. Desperate to fill the silence, you turn on the TV, immediately blasted with a Surge ad.

“Listen,” Seonghwa says after a few minutes, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I don’t want you to think I went into anything with expectations.”

Hurriedly, you reply, “I know that.”

“I understand you’re curious because the concept is new to you. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to be into it.”

You turn to face him, your fingers wrapped around your glass of water. Seonghwa tilts his head in your direction.

“I am curious,” You say quickly, “And I don’t really understand why. I’ve never thought about something like that until I saw those few minutes of the tape. And I…” You swallow, feeling shy. “Well, I only think about it with you. I was attracted to you right away but…you seemed so…nice. As if there wasn’t a lot going on underneath the surface. So, I assumed the attraction would never deepen. But after I saw the tape…I felt like I saw you.”

“And?” He prompts.

“And I was intrigued. At you. At the idea of filming stuff like that. The idea of a camera around, catching all these private moments. I started realizing how much you pull yourself under control, how you’re wearing a mask all the time.”

“Everyone wears a mask in public. Most people just don’t realize it.”

“You think I’m realizing it now then?”

“Maybe. I don’t want to speak over your feelings or pretend I know what you’re thinking of. But yes, you’re right about me. I struggle with being vulnerable, being myself. I always switch into this false personality. I don’t even mean to do it.”

“But you don’t do it while recording.”

“That’s right. Something about seeing that little red light on switches it off.”

“And what about…” Your shyness deepens.

“Filming myself having sex?” After you nod, Seonghwa goes, “It just turns me on. Makes sex better. Makes me more relaxed. In that moment of filming, I feel free. Capturing those moments of pleasure…it feels crucial to my enjoyment.”

“Has everyone you’ve been dating into it too?”

“After I realized how much I like it, yeah. When the relationship ends, I destroy all the tapes. Just out of respect. Recording it isn’t really about watching it back anyway. It’s just about that moment of filming the intimacy of it.”

You fall silent, battling more questions and your ever growing desire for Seonghwa. He turns his attention back to the TV, although you get the feeling he really isn’t engrossed in the episode of NYPD Blue playing. Your eyes land on the large bag he brought.

Could you record yourself sleeping with Seonghwa? Knowing that moment would be captured on a tape with him? It’s all you have been thinking about since discovering Seonghwa’s secret. But now that you can make it a reality, your nerves are still battling for dominance.

“Could I see it?” You ask suddenly, “The camera, I mean.”

“Sure,” He replies, leaning forward and pulling the bag towards him.

Unzipping the bag, he pulls out a large and chunky camcorder, resting it in his lap. He runs his fingers along the side where the spot for the tape opens while saying, “I was reading that they’re making these new cameras that are apparently a lot smaller and would be digital, if you could imagine such a thing. Would make filming a lot easier than this heavy thing.”

“So you don’t…hold it during…”

He laughs. “No. I just plop it down on a table or something during sex. But if the digital cameras end up truly becoming a thing, I suppose I could hold it during sex. Or you could,” He immediately realizes what he casually said and looks embarrassed. “Not that I meant – I don’t mean to assume that we would sleep together. Or you would be comfortable filming anything.”

You reach for the camera, grabbing it out of his lap and into your own, studying it. It isn’t as though it’s your first time holding such a thing but it has been a while. “How do you start recording?”

“You insert the tape and then press this button,” He leans closer, showing you where it is located.

You study his face, eyes lingering on his lips. “Where’s the tape?”

Seonghwa meets your gaze for a beat before moving away to retrieve it from the bag. He presses a button, the side popping out so he can insert the VHS tape. Snapping it shut, he says, “Then you can hit record. Each tape can roughly film for two hours.”

You hesitate for a moment before reaching for the camera. Your fingers touch his, an electric vibration that sparks along your skin. You can hear Seonghwa’s breath catch slightly but he relinquishes the camera. You look into the camera’s viewfinder while popping the cover off the lens.

You know what you want – Seonghwa and the exploration the recording will bring. Even though it is something you’ve never thought of until that moment you saw Seonghwa on your TV, with his beautiful smile, toned chest and low voice talking dirty, it seems to have awakened something deep inside you. Something that won’t rest, won’t stop, until you explore your desires.

You press down on the record button, making sure Seonghwa is in frame. You know he can see the red light, aware that you’re recording.

“Tell me about the first time you filmed yourself having sex,” You ask bluntly.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow although the chuckle he emits makes it clear he isn’t offended. “You interviewing me now?”

“A little.”

“It actually wasn’t my idea, if you can believe it. My girlfriend at the time brought it up to me one night after she noticed how much I liked recording home movies.”

“Did she notice how comfortable you seemed on camera?”

“Yeah, she did. It felt like a natural progression to me like oh, why hadn’t I thought of it? I was always trying to get in front of the camera ever since I can remember. But she was the first one to suggest taking it that far.”

“Were you nervous?”

“No.” Seonghwa looks relaxed now. The tension you hadn’t even realized he carried has now softened, his shoulders are lowered while he leans against the couch, still facing you. His hair grazes against his cheek from the angle. You catch yourself admiring his face, the slope of his nose, how his fingers rest in his lap. “No, I felt comfortable right away. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ever think about filming yourself having sex before?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Not until my tape.”

“That’s right.”

“You like filming me?” He asks and after you nod, he goes, “This time, you don’t have to shut it off before it gets to the good part.”

“A little cocky now, don’t you think?”

He gives a casual shrug. This is the Seonghwa you saw on the TV – relaxed, confident, letting each emotion come easily without judgement. This is the Seonghwa you’ve wanted.

You lean back against the couch, the camera still recording in your lap while motioning to the front of the TV. “Why don’t you show me how comfortable you are in front of the camera?” You can hardly believe the words after you say them. I guess it isn’t just Seonghwa who shows new sides of himself to the camera.

But Seonghwa only grins at your request, getting up and standing in front of the TV. He pulls the colourful shirt from the confines of his jeans, his fingers swiftly undoing the buttons to expose a thin white tank top underneath. Your heart rate is already accelerating at the sight of the fabric resting against his taunt stomach.

“Is this what you wanted?” He teases and your thighs clench at the fact you’re hearing that tone of voice being used on you now.

“Don’t be coy.”

Another grin. Yes, Seonghwa is correct – that little red light on from the camera changes him entirely. He shrugs out of the shirt, exposing his shoulders before it falls to the floor. Wearing just the tank top now, he hooks his thumbs into the front of his jeans, staring at you with an expression that looks almost devious.

“What?” You say defensively.

His grin widens. “Nothing. You’re just obvious.”

“What does that mean?”

“Come here and I’ll show you.”

You stand up, holding the heavy camera while ambling towards him. He reaches for the camera, taking it out of your hands and placing it on the top of the TV stand, giving the lens a view of your faces down to just under your shoulders.

After he finishes positioning the camera, Seonghwa turns his attention back to you. He is as close to your body as he was the other night on the stairs. Your breathing is uneven, aware of the camera on you, aware of everything you’ve been secretly thinking about is going to come to fruition.

“See?” He murmurs.

“What?”

Seonghwa smirks while running one finger down along your arm and your body shivers in response. “That. How much you want me.”

“Well, some of us aren’t experts at hiding ourselves all the time,” You counter.

His lips hover just above yours, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. Your body is screaming for Seonghwa, your brain buzzing with need, lips parted in anticipation.

There is no witty retort from him. Instead, Seonghwa kisses you. Softly at first, enough to shake the centre of you. His lips against yours makes you feel slightly delirious as if not realizing you were dying of thirst. The camera’s gaze remains steady on both of you while the kiss continues. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth so tenderly that your hands hold onto the band of his jeans to steady yourself.

Your whimper is muffled against the kiss, face warm, body responsive to this man you’ve only known for a week – and only truly known for a few days. Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair as yours circle around his small waist, pressing him against your body. He is stiff in his jeans but still his hands travel downward until they rest on your ass, squeezing it. The kiss continues, growing deeper, hungrier, breaking briefly so you can pull off his tank top.

You are pressing your hands against his hard stomach, running up along his chest until curling them around his shoulders, breathless at the sight of him. His skin is warm, inviting, and the sight of him in just his jeans is incredibly sexy.

Seonghwa brings his face to your neck, kissing along there while his grip on your ass tightens. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. The barriers of your clothing are becoming an annoyance now. You want more of him, you want all of him.

When you open your eyes, they land on the camera. A silent observer, missing nothing, no judgement to be found.

“Seonghwa,” You whisper and he stops, pulling away just enough to look at you. His eyes are hazy with lust, lips parted prettily. “Come with me to my room,” You pause for a second before adding, “And bring the camera.”

In your room, the camera is once again propped onto the top of the TV which gives it the perfect angle of the bed. When originally purchasing the second TV at a yard sale, a friend had questioned needing another one. Now, you’re grateful for it – where else would the camera filming the two of you go?

You are still fully dressed, something Seonghwa looks to rectify from the way he gently nudges you into view of the camera while he stands behind you.

His hands are on your waist, skittering upwards until your shirt is pulled off, tossed onto the nearby dresser. In just your bra and sweatpants now, acutely aware of the camera, your breathing grows uneven. Seonghwa’s hands continue to travel, now onto your bra, squeezing your breasts together. He is kissing along your neck once again, his lips a soft whisper along your skin.

He tugs down on the bra, exposing your tits not only to his hands but to the camera as well. The entire thing feels more intimate than any other sexual encounter you’ve had before; the camera adds to the feeling as strange as it sounds in your head.

Seonghwa’s hands are warm. He cups your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples. You’re soaking wet, overwhelmed by the desire you’re experiencing for him. He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, pinching them a little, allowing the camera to take in the sight of him groping you like this.

You tilt your face in his direction and his lips find yours once again. You like how Seonghwa tastes in your mouth – it is familiar, almost as if you’ve kissed him before, kissed him a thousand times. When he pulls away, the look in his eyes is heavy, laced with lust and stripped away from any pretenses he usually carried so close to him.

You brush his hands away from your body, instead grabbing him by the waist band of his jeans, moving him closer to the camera on the top of the TV. Unbuttoning his jeans, you rub him through the denim, taking note of the way his breathing catches.

You lean towards the camera, moving it to the shelf underneath the TV, giving the lens a perfect view of you on your knees in front of Seonghwa. You look up at him, unzipping his pants and pulling them down until his boxers are exposed.

The camera can’t catch his facial expression but you can see it – the way he looks at you with his plump lips slightly parted, his eyes dancing across your hands down to your breasts. It isn’t just giving yourself over to him, it’s giving yourself over to the camera too.

Your hands rub against the bulge in his boxers, feeling the warmth through the fabric. Your hands dip into the band of his boxers, pulling it down until his cock springs free. Gently wrapping your hand around him, you bring your tongue across the head, sweeping across it once, twice, three times. Seonghwa exhales slowly while you begin to pump his cock, looking up at him. The camera’s gaze is steady on the two of you, the moment you take his length into your mouth captured on film.

Your tongue presses against the tip of his cock for a few seconds before taking more of him, filling your mouth with his length. Your other hand goes to his balls, fondling them while your tongue presses along the underside of his shaft.

Spurned on by the soft noises of pleasure that escape Seonghwa, you begin to bob on his cock. Sometimes, he pops out of your mouth, the tip of him a sticky sweet mess of your salvia and his precum. It glistens in the low lights before you take him once again, as much as you can. You enjoy the way he fills your mouth, stretches out your lips with his thickness.

Seonghwa’s eyes close, his head rolling back as a guttural groan topples from in between his pink lips before he curses sharply and pulls away. His cock slides out, precum smearing against your cheek.

With a small shake of his head, he goes, “I don’t wanna finish. I want to feel you wrapped around me.”

Seonghwa helps you up, scooping the camera off the shelf and back onto the top of the TV. This time he puts more care into the angle, asking you to sit on the bed while he looks through the viewfinder until he looks pleased with it.

“Look at you, big shot director,” You tease at one point.

He raises his eye from the viewfinder. “Hey, it’s your debut,” Seonghwa says gravely but the twinkle in his eyes makes it evident he’s joking. “Lay sideways on the bed for me, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” You are still poking at him.

When he seems satisfied, Seonghwa circles back to the bed. He crawls up along your body, stopping to remove your sweatpants and underwear. You’re completely naked with him on camera now while his lips travel across your stomach, stopping at your breasts. His tongue flicks over your nipples and he gently bites down on one, tugging on it with his teeth just to hear you gasp.

Seonghwa is skin to skin with you, not an inch in between your bodies as he finally kisses your lips. Your legs curl around his waist urgently, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth until he groans in response.

It is simple to enter your pussy, having been wet for Seonghwa since he stepped foot inside your apartment. His length fills you swiftly until his hips touches yours. The next kiss is messy, a mixture of muffled moans and whimpers as Seonghwa goes still, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being filled with his cock.

His hands snake up along your arms, gently pinning your hands above your head, just at the edge of the mattress. Almost lazily, Seonghwa rocks his hips. The motion is small, just enough to send shocks of warmth and pleasure through your body. You groan out his name in a plea for him to move faster but he doesn’t obey.

“Sorry, my boo, but I’ve been thinking about this all week and I want to take my time,” Seonghwa declares, your hands entwined together, “I saw the way you looked at me when we first met, saw the disinterest flicker across your face when I drove you home the first time.” He moves his hips, pulling almost completely out of your hole. “And I went home that night and thought about inviting you over, teasing your body until you crumbled and begged for me.” He thrusts now, all the way back inside, until your hips meet once more and you gasp, your fingers curling around his for something to hold onto.

You can recall the memory, the way you mused that Seonghwa was too pleasant, too kind in that sort of neutral, placid way that meant even though he was beautiful, he faded to the background of your memory. But there is your side of things too…

“Your veneer isn’t perfect,” You counter with a small gasp when he rocks his hips again, “Maybe to others but not to me.”

“Is that right?” He growls.

Breathlessly, you explain, “I got the feeling multiple times you were holding back, hiding parts of yourself. You were so restrained all the time.” You remember the moment in the breakroom where he flattened his hand against his knee, wrangling himself under control. “But sometimes, I would see pieces. It made me want to crack those parts open, see you.”

Seonghwa is moving your legs now, sliding his arms under them so that they fold closer to your chest. He is still as near to you as he can get physically. But the angle change is intense and you grab the edge of the bed, gasping as he begins to pump his cock deeper into your cunt.

“And now?” He prompts but you can’t focus on the conversation anymore, not when his cock feels this good and he’s finally fucking you at a pace that only heightens the desire and pleasure. After your garbled moan, Seonghwa goes, “I’ll take that as your answer.”

Your eyes flutter open, the red light from the camera like a spotlight. This moment - captured either forever or until Seonghwa and you were to break apart. Tiny parts of yourself, combined with Seonghwa, in this intimate moment for the camera lens.

Your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around Seonghwa’s cock as your orgasm approaches. He keeps up the steady pace, the bed shaking with every thrust, your legs bouncing with each jerk of his hips. Your knuckles are white from clutching the edge of the bed, your bedsheets tangled around your fingers as Seonghwa pistons his cock into your wet cunt.

And then your orgasm begins, Seonghwa’s name a shattered piece of glass on the tip of your tongue as your hips meet his. The pleasure blots out everything; it is so exquisite that you lose yourself entirely to him.

Seonghwa pulls out, allowing you to stretch out your legs. “I want to fuck you from behind,” He says, his hands on your thighs, “Will you let me?”

You know that means facing the camera, allowing it to capture every expression on your face. You nod and Seonghwa helps you get into position on all fours, your ass in the air and hands pressed against the bed. He runs his hands over your ass before tugging you down a little, towards his cock.

“Seonghwa,” You say, looking over your shoulder at him. His hair is messy, his breathing rough, but all his protections over his personality are gone. He looks sexy, inviting, warm, all yours. “I want you to finish in me.”

He stops for a moment, glancing up at you before nodding. You turn back to the camera while he enters you once again. You gasp loudly – he feels much different from this angle and your eyes almost roll back into your head from how amazing it is. Seonghwa doesn’t stop this time. He immediately begins to pump and you curse roughly as his hips smack against yours.

One hand reaches for your hair, pulling it on it in a sharp tug, keeping your head up so that the camera captures your ever changing facial expressions. You like that it’s being filmed, both you and Seonghwa’s faces being recorded as you chase the pleasure your bodies can give.

He grunts out your name as he fucks you, releasing his hold on your hair so that he can grip your waist. Your hands shake and you finally relent, lowering your front half onto the bed. This allows him to fuck your cunt even deeper. You’re cursing loudly, begging him to keep going because you’re going to cum again. He doesn’t stop and you’re sure that the camera is going to show a thin layer of sweat across his forehead from how quickly Seonghwa’s hips snap into yours, his balls smacking against your ass, your wet pussy taking him easily.

Your hands grip the bed sheets, face down in the bed now, trying to muffle how much noise you’re making because of the neighbors. Seonghwa is grunting, panting, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as his cock pounds into your sopping wet hole.

Your orgasm starts suddenly, without any warning, and your back arches. You bring your ass backwards, trying to meet his erratic thrusts. At the same time, Seonghwa groans out your name and it sounds like gravel against the bottom of a shoe. He begins to spill inside of your cunt. Together, you both cum, in full view of the camera. His warmth overflows and when he pulls out, you can feel him dripping out of your cunt.

Legs like jelly, you fall against the bed, completely exhausted. But Seonghwa slides off, reaching for the camera and bringing it onto the bed. He plops it briefly onto the sheets while his hands go to your hips, rolling you onto your back.

“What?” You mumble, slightly dazed.

“I want to see your cunt filled with my load,” He explains, bringing the camera close, peering through the viewfinder.

His other hand gently spreads your lips apart, showing his cum leaking out from in between your folds. It’s lurid, completely pornographic, and you find it thrilling.

“You’re a perv,” You tease him.

His finger dips into your cunt, scooping up some of his cum. His hand trails up along your body, along with the camera lens, and when his finger is against your lips, you open, sucking his cum clean off.

“And what are you then?” He says.

“Your new girlfriend,” You reply boldly.

Seonghwa pulls away from the viewfinder, his eyes meeting yours. In the now quiet room, the only noise is of his soft breathing mingling with yours. The past is wiped clean, replaced with the new tape, the collision of two people caught on camera, entwining together both physically and mentally.

“That sounds perfect to me,” is what he finally says and you can read in between the lines – you aren’t just privy to Seonghwa’s true self through a camera lens anymore. You get access to him all the time.

You smile up at him, fucked out completely and never been more content.

Seonghwa returns the look, his finger hovering over the button to stop recording.

“What do you want to do now?” He asks.

You think for a moment before going, “We should –”

And his finger presses the button, ending the tape.

the end.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #seonghwa fics #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #kpop fic #video girl #100 notes #500 notes #1000 notes

1K notes · View notes

mermaidgirl30 · 4 months

Text

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller✨

✨Masterlist✨

dbf! Joel x fem! reader

A/N: Hey, guys! Super excited to kick off my first dbf! Joel series. It was originally going to be a one shot, but after some thought I wanted to write more. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Always like to hear your thoughts ☺️ Joel is a menace in this one! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

- Summary: After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long?

- Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

- Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

- Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

Part 1: Blurring the Lines

Part 2: Secret Glances and Wandering Hands

Part 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred

Part 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts

Part 5: Let Me Take You There (Coming Soon!)

*Hot Tubs and Calloused Fingers* (Coming Soon!)

Part 6

Part 7

Recommended songs for series “Scary Love” and “Daddy Issues” and “A Little Death” by The Neighbourhood

Part 1 Word Count: 13.6k

The warm August air blows your long hair gently as you sit outside Moonlight Bar, letting the Austin city lights shine in the distance. The lighting is low as the dark blue luminescence of the bar surrounds the alcohol on the back shelf and various plants hang above the edges of the bar. The Goo Goo Dolls play softly across the outside speakers as people mingle together at various white wooden tables strewn across the manicured green lawn. It’s a busy night, one of the more popular bars in the area.

You’re sitting with William. One of the boys that’s in one of your law classes at the University of Texas. He wouldn’t leave you alone at school, so you figured you’d appease him and let him take you out on a date.

He isn’t bad looking. He has shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He’s built like a body builder and has a jawline so sharp that it could cut someone. He’s nice and all, but he won’t stop talking about fucking football. You hate football, but you just smile and nod along to what he says. Occasionally rolling your eyes when he isn’t looking at you.

“Did you see the quarterback get slammed at the game last Saturday? Tim took him out hard! I thought he’d never get up!” he says starstruck as he shows you a picture from the game on his phone, slamming back another drink of vodka as he lowers it to the table.

“I already told you I didn’t watch the game,” you say, trying not to sound obnoxious.

“Oh, right. Well, you missed out. It was awesome!” he shouts as the group of people next to you look at William. You internally groan at the embarrassment that’s caked on your face. You need to get up for a few minutes. You’re bored and want to cut the talk on sports.

“I’ll be right back,” you utter as you get up from the barstool.

“Where are you going?” he asks with a hurt expression on his face.

“To the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes, chill,” you say as you put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly and walk away. You roll your eyes at the action and start walking towards the back where the bathrooms are.

William really is a nice guy, he just isn’t the guy for you. You don’t have that much in common, and he’s way too into football. Granted, he did play as an undergrad, but you don’t really care. You want to talk about subjects other than sports, like maybe something you care about. He never makes an effort to ask you about yourself though. He just wants to talk about sports and his gym routine.

What a bore.

He’s a few years older than you. He’s twenty-eight, and you’re twenty-five. Soon to be twenty-six in a couple of months. You always had a thing for older guys. But lately you had your eyes set on someone else. Someone off limits to you which made you want him even more. But it would never happen. You needed to quit telling yourself it would. He’s too old for you, in his mid forties. Which only makes you that much more curious.

You aren’t watching where you’re going as you round the corner of a small crowd and run straight into someone who feels like a thick brick wall.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and…” You stop mid sentence as you see just who stands in front of you.

Joel Miller. Your dad’s hot best friend, the older man you can’t get out of your head.

“S’alright, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” he says as he laughs, his smile making his honey brown eyes crinkle up at the corners, making you swoon and melt under his gaze.

God, he’s pretty.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with surprise in your voice.

“Havin’ a drink? It’s the weekend. Gotta relax somehow,” he says with another small smile as his Texas accent comes out thick and low. That melodic southern accent that could put you at ease on any given day.

“Oh, right.” You move a lock of hair behind your ear nervously and you swear he watches you a little too closely as his eyes trail to your neck, keeping his gaze there a little too long.

“You come with anyone tonight?” he asks as he looks around the crowded bar, bringing his focus back to you.

“Yeah. Came with a date tonight. Someone from one of my classes,” you say carefully.

His bottom lip twinges and his jaw clenches just enough for you to notice. His bicep flexes around his forest green plaid shirt as it’s rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider all the way down his lower arms as they end in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight of him, of how seriously hot he is.

Was he jealous of William? Surely not…right?

“You be careful tonight. Don’t let him do anything you don’t want to,” he warns with a deep gruff in his voice, staring at you with serious, dark eyes.

“He’s not going to do anything. He’s nice. He’s-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. “Doesn’t matter if he’s nice. He’s a guy. He can change up on you like that.” He snaps his fingers, looking at you intently. “Jus’ be careful, okay?”

Why was he being like this? Protective. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to keep an eye on you. You had it under control.

“I’ll be careful, but you really don’t have to tell me that. You sound just like my dad,” you say as you roll your eyes, annoyed.

“I ain’t your dad, sweetheart. Jus’ tryin’ to look after ya is all. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

Oh.

“Right. Okay…” you say quietly.

Joel skates his eyes down your body as he takes in the tight black tank top as your cleavage spills out a little too much, going over your short, light blue jean shorts as they barely graze your tan thighs, dragging his eyes down your long legs and ending at your clean, white Converse shoes as he slowly looks back up into your eyes.

You suddenly feel self conscious, like you need to cover up a little more. Not like he hasn’t seen you in short shorts and a tank top before. Hell, he saw you in a slinky bikini last summer at a pool party and the man couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

You wouldn’t lie though, you love when he notices you. When he flicks his eyes over you and lingers just a little too long, making you burn with heat from his intense stare. He’s the one you have wet dreams about, the older man you can’t quite shake from your fantasies. But he’s off limits. Because he’s your father’s best friend. And he would never dare touch his best friend’s daughter…right?

“Well, I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep ya from your date. I’ll be around here if ya need me. Just shoot me a text.”

You nod in reply and make your way over to the bathroom, turning to watch Joel disappear into the crowd somewhere. A sea of green getting lost in the abyss. You sigh and walk into the bathroom, trying to get a hold of yourself.

You had met Joel when you were just eighteen years old. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and your dad made quick friends with him. Pretty soon they were best friends. He was always coming to the house to hang out with your dad, always coming to pool parties or cookouts. He even taught you how to play guitar when you asked. And he was a good teacher, the way his hands slid across yours. Those rough, calloused fingers. You’d do anything to be able to feel those again on your skin.

You wondered how they’d feel on your thighs or even someplace else. Someplace sensitive…

You finish up in the bathroom and make your way back to William. Back to where you belong tonight. You need to stop thinking about Joel. He wasn't the one that was taking you out and never would be. Even if that’s something you want, so badly.

“Oh, you’re back. You missed this great conversation me and this guy had about Jake’s pass last week with the football. It was killer!” he shouts as you settle back into your barstool and get situated.

You roll your eyes and give him a polite smile. You’re so over the football talk. Couldn’t he give it a rest? You take a large drink from your red bull vodka and place it back on the bar top as you chase it down, letting it leave a slight burn in your throat.

When you look back up and turn your head slightly to the left, you almost fall off the barstool as you see Joel sitting across the bar, just on the opposite side. He’s drinking what looks to be a cold glass of whiskey on the rocks as the amber color swirls in the cup.

He takes another sip as he keeps his eyes fixed on you intently, letting his eyes roam up and down your body as a faint snarl edges the side of his mouth as he looks over at William.

Holy shit. He is jealous. You can see it in those dark brown eyes as they slightly narrow at the loud mouthed man that sits next to you as he rambles on about football.

He swirls the short straw around his drink as he eyes you again, this time his gaze relaxing into warmth as a gentle smile plays on his lips. You blush at the brooding man and bite your lip as you look down, unable to keep your focus on the intense dark eyes that are staring at you.

What’s his deal? He never dared tried to flirt with you before. Not like this. At least not around your dad. You always felt that invisible line get drawn at times though. Like last summer when you were in a tight, short dress, about to go out with some friends for the night. You felt his eyes burn through you as he stared at your thighs as he glazed over your toned, tanned body. You could feel it in the room how thick the tension was. But he didn’t dare cross that line. Not while he was in the presence of your father.

Joel’s a good guy. He’d never do anything to disrespect or hurt you. He’s kind and caring, always willing to help you out when you need it. Like with your projects or guitar. Or that time when he picked you up when your car got stuck in the snow and drove you all the way back home in the middle of an ice storm.

He’s special. One of a kind. You just don’t understand why he’s still single when he’s drop dead gorgeous. And his curls.

God, his curls. The way his thick, tousled hair curls at the edges as grey streaks line his dark hair. And his beard. That thick, scruffy salt and pepper beard that you want to graze your fingers across in a flirtatious manner. Thinking of how good his lips might feel on yours. How soft and velvety they must be…

You snap out of it as William tries talking to you again. You avert your eyes from Joel and put your attention on the guy that sits next to you.

“Did you finish the paper yet from Mr. Lawrence’s class yet?” he asks as he takes a sip of his vodka drink.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been done for a few days now. Wanted to knock it out before more work got piled on,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Cool. I still got a ways to go. But anyways, you wanna go to the football game next weekend? Our team’s playing here. Thought you’d want to maybe go with me?” he asks with raised eyebrows and green eyes that search yours, hoping for a yes to come from your lips.

That was a hard pass. “Sorry, I already have plans that day,” you lie, trying to sound apologetic to soothe his hopefulness.

“That’s fine. There will be other games.”

You roll your eyes as you internally groan. You’re bored and you don’t want to be sitting here with him anymore. You need someone that isn’t boring. Someone that’s older, much older. Someone with pretty brown eyes and thick arms covered in plaid…

You look up from your long, thick lashes and meet Joel’s stare again as it sears through your skull. His gaze is so intense that it stirs something low in your stomach that feels a lot like heat.

This was bad. Really bad.

You squeeze your legs shut and put out the growing fire, dropping your gaze again so you won’t be tempted to be pulled back into the flames.

William puts a hand on your thigh and leans into you as you catch a whiff of his strong vodka drink on his breath. Joel looks like he could break the glass right under his fingertips the way he’s holding the cup.

Oh, he’s mad. But why? It’s not like he was supposed to take you out. He’s your fucking father’s best friend for God’s sake. You need to get out of the sick delusion that Joel actually likes you more than his best friend’s daughter. He’s only trying to be nice, protective. He’s only looking out for you because that’s what he should be doing, for your dad.

But then why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to eat you alive and wants to snap the neck of your god awful date.

“You okay if I do this?” William asks as he rakes his teeth over your neck roughly. Nothing is sexy about it. It hurts and his teeth are sharp, and his breath smells horrible. He puts his hand back on your thigh and squeezes as his nails dig into your skin in an extremely uncomfortable way. You wince at his actions.

“William, no. We’re in public. I don’t think-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Joel’s on him in a second, pulling him away from your body as he yanks him out of his seat. Your breath catches at the way Joel is seething and breathing hard as he glares at William with daggers in his dark eyes.

“Don’t think she wants ya doin’ that,” he snarls as venom shoots from his tongue.

“Who the fuck are you to touch me and pull me from my woman?” he yells at Joel as his nostrils flare and his green eyes turn to tiny slits.

“She ain’t your woman,” Joel scoffs, clearly annoyed at the younger, less mature male.

“Oh, and who are you? You her keeper or something?” he asks angrily.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replies, his voice clipped.

Your eyes widen at the statement. Was he marking his territory? He had to be. Or maybe he was just being protective, helping out his best friend to keep his daughter safe. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it did. You can’t tell one way or the other. Your mind’s a blur.

William rolls his eyes and looks over at you. “You want to get out of here? Come on, I’ll-”

You stop him before he can finish that sentence. “No.”

He goes livid as his green eyes turn to murky swamp water. “No? Are you fucking serious?” he asks with shocked words.

“The lady said no,” Joel states firmly as he steps in front of you, blocking William’s view.

“Baby, come on. Let’s go,” William demands, holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m not yours…” you reply quietly.

“Fine! You can walk home then, bitch,” he says with clenched teeth and a hard line across his forehead.

“Watch how you fuckin’ talk to her,” Joel growls as he pushes William up against the bar table, making the rest of his vodka spill as it lands in a heap on the floor along with the mixed in broken glass.

“You really want to go there? Because I’ll tear you apart,” William yells.

“Go on then. Try.” Joel bares his teeth and flexes his hand into a tight fist.

You can’t let them fight. You won’t let Joel get hurt, even if he can take on William. What would your dad say?

You quickly intercept and step in between them. You put your hands on Joel’s broad chest and try to push him back. “Joel, stop. He’s not worth it.”

Joel clenches his jaw and stares hard at William, about to put a fist in his face. You put your hand over his tight fist and beg him to stop. “Please.”

Joel’s fist relaxes as he looks down at you, his brown eyes softening just the slightest as he focuses on you. Butterflies were swimming through your stomach at the heat that was between the two of you. You had never been this close to Joel. You were only inches from his mouth, so close that you could reach out and brush your lips over his. So very close…

William rips you away from your thoughts as you hear him grab his keys and turn sharply your way. “Have it your way. Enjoy the old man’s company. I’m out of here.” He storms away from the bar in a hurry, leaving you and Joel alone. Together.

You suddenly realize you’re still leaning against his chest, your hand still planted firmly on his. You drop your hand and back away from his space as you rake a hand through your soft curls.

“Thanks for that. You didn’t have to,” you say nervously, your voice cracking at the thank you.

“Save it, darlin’. I could already tell you weren’t havin’ a good time, and then he put his hands all over you. Greedy bastard.” He bares his teeth as he clenches his jaw.

Greedy bastard? Well, goddamn. He does like you. He had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you like this. Right?

“Oh uhh, yeah…” You don’t really know what to say to that. And the way he’s flaring his nostrils is making you have heart palpitations. He had never looked that mad before. At least not over you.

“You want a drink? It’s on me,” he says as he tilts his head toward the bar.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying not to act like you’re flipping circles inside.

“C’mon then.” He walks you to the bar and pulls out a barstool for you as you sit down. He takes a seat next to you, gently brushing his thigh against yours as he gets into place. You can’t help but gasp a little at the touch. It feels electric.

The young, red head bartender comes over and asks for your drink orders. “Hi, guys. What’ll it be tonight?”

Joel looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, looking you over slowly as if he’s trying to figure it out. It makes chills run down your spine. “Let me guess. Malibu sunset?”

He never gets it wrong. He knows your drink of choice like the back of his own hand. It was that slight attention he always gave you that did it for you. He was always listening, always so attentive when you spoke. He knew you so well it was almost scary. No other man had paid that much attention to you, nonetheless listened to you ramble about your likes and dislikes. But Joel always did.

“You remembered?” you ask with a faint smile.

“‘Course, darlin’. How could I forget?”

You slightly blush and place your arms on the bar top as you lean on it, trying to calm yourself down. He orders his usual whiskey on the rocks, his drink of choice. A scent that you can sometimes smell on his breath when he’s sitting close to you like now. Something you want to taste on his tongue. But that’s only a daydream. That would never happen. Right?

“So, how’s school going this semester?” he asks as he turns towards you, placing one of his arms on the bar top as his plaid shirt squeezes around his flexed bicep, making you uncomfortably hot just looking at his massive arms.

“It’s going well. I mean, it’s hard. Really hard, but I’m managing. I can’t tell you how many papers I’ve had to write already, but I seem to be doing something right because I have straight A’s,” you beam.

“Straight A’s huh? You always were a sharp thing.” He’s looking at you with those deep honey eyes, gently smiling as he admires you. A sight that makes you weak at the knees as you stare at his perfect dimples.

And those eyes. God, those pretty brown eyes. You want to drown in them. Let them grab hold of you as they drag you deeper and deeper until you suffocate under the weight of them.

“Actually, I’m at the top of my class,” you brag, nonchalantly.

Joel lets out a low whistle as he leans back in awe, giving you a once over. “‘Course you are, darlin’. Such a smart girl…” he whispers low and deep, making you bite your lower lip slowly.

There it was. That tension in the air. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the room. That deep smolder that puts dangerous daydreams in your mind. Hot, sticky daydreams…

The bartender breaks the tension as he sets the drinks down in front of you and walks back off without so much as a “let me know if you need anything else” line. He just walks away and helps some loud couple on the other side of the bar.

You swirl the straw around your yellow, pineapple drink and take a sip, letting the tropical taste run down your throat. It’s sweet and delicious, just how you like it.

Joel picks up his whiskey glass and takes a generous gulp. You watch as the rim of the glass kisses his lips, how he takes his tongue and runs it over the bottom of his lips, how he holds the glass tightly as the amber liquid clinks against the ice. You never wanted to be a glass as bad as you did now.

You bite your lip slowly as he puts the glass down and wipes his bottom lip with his thumb as he slowly grazes it over his lip. It’s slow, seductive, the hottest thing you had ever seen. You want to know just how soft those lips are, how good he tastes, how his calloused fingers would feel on your skin…

You shake your head and free the dirty thoughts from your mind. He’s your father’s best friend! This couldn’t happen. Ever. But fuck did you want it to. You never wanted anything as bad as this in your whole entire life. He was just so…perfect.

Last summer when your family had a party at the lake house, your friends all whispered how hot Joel was in his tight grey t-shirt and swim trunks. They’d say how built he was, how he must be great in bed, and they had called him the hottest dilf they’d ever seen. Of course they were right, but you were jealous of them. Because you wanted to be the only one that had eyes for him. You wanted him. Period. Even if he was strictly off limits.

He sits the glass down on the smooth bar top and turns back around, putting his full attention on you. “You uhhh, been seein’ anyone besides that handsy asshole lately?” he asks with darker eyes, a hint of anger on the tip of his tongue as his eyebrows furrow together.

There it was. That jealousy swirling off his tongue. Or overprotectiveness. Or possibly both. You couldn’t tell which it was.

“No, not really. Haven’t been dating much lately,” you say quietly.

“How come?” He’s curious. His eyebrows raise and he focuses intently on you, leaning in just a tad bit closer so he can hear you over the noisy crowd.

“Guess I just haven’t been interested in anyone,” you shrug, blowing it off like it isn’t a big deal, but apparently it is to him.

“Oh, but I’m sure guys are always askin’ ya out. A pretty thing like you, surely. Bet all their eyes are on ya.”

A pretty thing like you? The man just called you pretty. You swear you see stars in your eyes. The room feels dizzy as you take another drink, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“I mean, not really,” you shake your head disagreeing.

“I don’t really believe that, you’re gorgeous. They’re missin’ out on a great girl. Just give it time. You’ll find someone worth your while.” He takes another sip of whiskey and looks at you from the corner of his eye, keeping those brown eyes only on you.

A great girl? Gorgeous?! You can’t help but feel a little disappointed when he says that you’ll find someone worth your while. You don’t want to find just someone, you want him and only him. That’s what you really want. But you need to stop mixing reality with fantasy. Joel would never let that happen. He wouldn’t disrespect your father like that or would he? You hoped he would.

“Have you finished my guitar yet?” you ask all of a sudden excited to see it. Joel was customizing your acoustic guitar and carving sunflowers into the wood. You’d asked him if he could do it because his woodwork was exceptional and you only wanted your guitar in the best hands. He said yes automatically, giving it no thought.

“I am. Just want to polish it up and then she’s all yours,” he says proudly, his smile crinkling up the edges of his mouth, exposing his adorable dimples that you love.

“Can I come see it?” you ask, almost begging with your eyes.

“Tonight?” he asks, hesitating just a bit with his voice.

“I mean, unless you have other plans,” you say, shrugging your shoulders slightly. He looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes, and you notice his hand on his thigh slowly flex like he’s in deep thought.

Why was he hesitating? He had never hesitated around you before. But also, you’d never really been alone with him before. He’d occasionally picked you up a couple times or you’d be alone with him in the room for a few minutes at your house while your dad was grabbing something, but not in his house. Not alone, just the two of you.

He finally speaks as he runs a hand through his tousled curls, watching as they fall back into place perfectly. “No, don’t have any other plans. So, yeah. You’re welcome to come see it. I’ll have you try it out, see how you like it.”

“Maybe you can give me another lesson? It’s been awhile. You’re a great guitar teacher, best I ever had,” you smile at him, just on the edge of being flirtatious and drawing that thin line that you were about to cross.

“That so, darlin’?” he smirks, giving you butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your fruity drink.

“Well, glad to hear it. And we’ll see,” he says in a low voice.

He finishes up his whiskey and waits patiently for you to finish off your drink. As soon as you’re done, he pays for the drinks as the bartender takes up the tab.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks as he stands up, pulling out his barstool.

“More than ready,” you respond as you get up and pull your denim shorts down. Joel’s eyes wander down to your tan thighs, and you swear you see that smoldering stare burning in his eyes return as he takes in the sight of your long legs. His gaze stays a few seconds too long as he quickly looks back up into your eyes, trying to play it off as he runs a hand through his thick curls slowly.

A low heat starts in your core, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the tension that was there. You’re already wet from seeing how your long legs affected him.

Fuck. You wanted him. Bad.

“Alright, c’mon then. Truck’s this way.” He leads you out of the busy bar as you wind your way through the crowd of people. He puts his hand on the small of your back, and you almost jolt at the action. He’d never done that before. But it feels…good. And you want his hand to continue to stay there, burning all the way down to your skin.

When you get out to the white Chevy, he unlocks the doors and then you climb into the front passenger seat. It’s nice and clean in here and smells like him. That woodsy pine smell that you love just lingering in the air. It makes you a little dizzy.

After he buckles his seatbelt, he puts the key in the ignition and then the truck rumbles lightly, the engine roaring to life. Ghost plays softly on the radio as the volume is turned low. You played Joel one of their songs a while ago and then he got hooked on them. You had to applaud yourself for getting him into your taste of music. Maybe one of these days he’d take you to their concert.

“I see you’re still listening to Ghost?” you ask with raised brows as you look over at him, laughing. He’s holding the steering wheel tight as he drives down the busy city streets, paying close attention to where he’s going.

“‘Course. Can’t believe you got me into them,” he says as he shakes his head, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you can’t deny they’re good. I mean, come on. Tobias is a musical genius,” you go on, getting lost in the song that’s playing on the speakers.

“No, you’re right. He’s good. Wouldn’t mind seein’ them if they ever decided to come to Austin,” he replies as he turns a corner, rotating the steering wheel sharp as his large hands grip around the leather. You watch the way his knuckles grasp the steering wheel strongly, wishing you could feel those hands on your body instead.

“Would you take me?” you ask quietly, blurring the lines of a boundary you shouldn’t cross.

His jaw slightly flexes as he flicks his eyes over to you. “If you’d wanna go, I’d take ya.” He looks back at the road before you respond.

“Really?” you ask shocked, not expecting that answer.

“Mhm. Might be fun,” he hums.

You sit back in your seat and smile out your passenger side window triumphantly as you watch the glow of the evening city lights pass by in a blur. This was nice. Having a little alone time with Joel. You didn’t think it’d go anywhere, but you were still glad you were here. With him.

Ghost’s song “Spillways” comes on next, and your eyes go wide as you jolt forward, reaching for the volume so you can turn it up. “I love this song!” you say excitedly.

You guess Joel had the same idea because he ends up reaching for the volume too. Your hand connects with his as he brushes against the top of yours. You gasp at the contact of his rough hand and quickly pull it away.

When Joel drops his hand, it connects with a plastic water bottle in the cup holder and sends it over the edge, tumbling down your way. He quickly reaches out to catch it, but he misses as it goes spiraling to the floorboard. Instead, his hand lands right on top of your thigh as his calloused fingers connect with your smooth skin.

Your eyes go wide as you hold in a breath. His hand feels so good. Both rough and soft at the same time, somehow the two intermingling with each other. His fingers gently curl against the edge of your thigh, lingering there a few seconds too long until he quickly grabs his hand away, bringing it back to the steering wheel hurriedly like his hand is on fire.

“Shit. Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to, well. Put my hand on ya,” he says hurriedly, apologizing in a quick breath.

“It’s okay…” you say slowly, still catching your breath from what just happened.

He lets out a drawn sigh as he takes his right hand and runs it through his tousled curls, looking like he’s in pain or fighting off something deep in his mind. He slowly brings his hand back down and barely grazes the steering wheel. He slowly flexes and extends his hand, the same hand he touched you with. It’s like he just pulled his hand from boiling water, like your thigh ignited something in him. Something hot and tempting…

He brings his hand up and rakes it through his scruff, his eyes in deep thought as his eyebrows furrow together. That touch to your thigh definitely affected him. You can clearly see that. You want to test the waters and bring his hand back down to your burning thigh. Let him trail his fingers up and down your inner thigh as they tease you, as they send slick down your center…

He sighs again before speaking. “Maybe I should just take ya home,” he says undecidedly, his voice right on the edge of shakiness.

Back home? Without going to his house first? No, no, you wouldn’t let that happen. This was your chance. Your one chance to test just where this would go. And you would not go back home without at least trying your luck.

“No,” you say a little too loud, a little too demanding.

“No?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question at the harsh words that came out of your mouth.

“I mean…I just really want to see my guitar. Please?” you beg with a pleading voice, batting your eyelashes with the most innocent expression you can muster up.

Joel does a double take at you with his hand over his mouth, deciding if he should take you home or not, and then he nods in agreement. “Alright, alright. You can come see it,” he sighs.

Yes! You were screaming in silent victory at the win. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand. You just had to play it cool and not get pushy. If he wanted to make a move, then he’d be the one to do it. You wouldn’t push him. The next steps were all on him.

He was driving with one hand now as he leaned on the driver’s side window with his elbow, his hand gently resting under his jaw. He seemed to be lost in thought about something, his eyes pierced with attention on the road. And then it was silent except for the faint hum of the stereo. An uncomfortable silence you’d rather not sit in, so you decide to start up a conversation.

“So, how’s work going?” you ask, hoping it’ll break him of whatever intense trance he’s under.

“Busy, like usual. Got a few clients in this week, so my employees have been busy with those new projects. Have to say that I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately. Been workin’ late a lot. I feel bad cause a lot of the time I come home, Sarah’s already asleep. So I’ve been missin’ time with her. But I just hired a few more employees, so I’m hopin’ I’ll finally work some normal hours and not a ton of overtime like I have been.” He huffs out in annoyance, his forehead creasing into wrinkles as he rakes a hand over his mouth.

Poor Joel. He looks so frustrated, tired even. You slowly reach a hand out and sit it on his shoulder to show your understanding. “Hey, I’m sure Sarah understands. And I’m sorry you’ve been overworked. Hopefully things lighten up and you can get more time at home. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Especially with taking on side projects with my guitar. If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have asked you,” you say in an apologetic voice, slowly bringing your hand back down to rest in your lap.

“No, it’s okay. I wanted to do that for ya. It’s no problem. I enjoyed working on it. And thank you, for the kind words. You always know just what to say to calm me down.” He looks over at you and gives you a small smile, nodding his head in a thank you.

“Oh, okay. And I try,” you say as you swallow.

You watch him turn on Waterlake Drive as he pulls into your neighborhood. Except you aren’t going home. Not yet anyways. You’re going to his house.

You pass your street and drive four blocks down as you turn on the dimly lit road. Houses aren’t right next to each other as each house has a big yard and their own privacy. Joel turns into his wide driveway and stops the truck, putting it into park.

Joel’s house is a big two story house that has a wraparound porch on the outside with blue shutters on the arched windows. There are two wooden rocking chairs that sit on the porch, and the yard is covered in towering oak trees. It’s a really pretty house, one that’s too big for only two people, but he fills up the space with all his projects that are lying around just waiting for him to finish.

You get out of the truck and slam the white door shut as you hear the beeping noise of Joel locking the truck. He takes out his keys and places the golden house key in the lock as he turns and opens the door.

“C’mon in,” he says as he opens the door for you, waiting for you to pass through.

You step through and make your way down the polished dark, wooden floors. Pictures of Joel and Sarah hang all along the staircase as you pass right by, heading for the living room.

The living room’s done up in tall white walls with pictures of Lake Texoma and wildlife sprawled across the side walls. A huge 70-inch flat screen sits mounted on the middle of the wall and a big cream colored couch sits in the middle of the room with a couple of leather recliners sitting a few feet apart from each other. A small, wooden side table with a luminous lamp sits next to the couch as it shines light throughout the room. And a tall, glass cabinet sits in the corner of the room that’s full of old Rock and Roll albums that both Joel and Sarah collect. It’s really homey, peaceful. You liked coming over here, even though you have only been a couple of times.

“Where’s Sarah at?” you ask, looking around the quiet house.

“She ain’t here. She’s at a friend’s for the weekend,” he responds as he walks back in from the open kitchen.

Oh. So you were all alone with him. In his house.

Fuck.

“Well, have a seat and I’ll go grab your guitar,” Joel says as he exits the room.

You take a seat in the middle of the couch and try to relax, but you’re still flustered from Joel putting his hand on your thigh. It was probably just an accident. You were probably just blowing it all out of proportion, so you needed to calm the hell down. But you’re all alone with him, and that makes heat build in the pit of your stomach.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Joel comes back into the room with your guitar in his hands. He has it flipped to where you can’t see the front of it, keeping it a surprise for you.

“Alright, here it is. Why don’t you take a look.” He flips it around to where you can see it, and you gasp at how stunning it is.

The solid, light spruce guitar looks as if it’s shining. The strings are completely redone, and the narrow neck and body look like they have been resanded to perfection. But what catches your eye the most is the gorgeous, carved etchings in the acoustic guitar that makes patterns of sunflowers all over the bottom half of the guitar. Gold, pink, and orange fill in the flowers and a single hand painted purple butterfly sits at the top, along with a few sparkly swirls around the edges that are all sorts of bright colors.

You walk over to him and place your hand on the guitar, gently running your hand over the smooth etchings of the designs he had made for you.

Holy shit. It was incredible, the most beautiful guitar you had ever seen in your entire life.

Your mouth is agape and your eyes are wide as you take in the beauty that sits in his hands, just waiting for you to play. “Joel…I don’t even know what to say. It’s beautiful. How did you…” You’re completely speechless. You don’t know what to say.

“You like it?” he asks with a hopeful smile, his brown eyes trained on you.

“Like it? I love it!” you shout in glee.

“Good, that’s good. Glad ya do.” He says as he runs a hand through his tousled curls as one stray curl falls over his face.

God, what you would give to run your hands through those smooth curls. You could get lost in them for hours.

“Here, why don’t ya try it out?” he asks as he hands the guitar to you. You gently take the smooth guitar in your hands and walk over to the couch as you sit in the middle, right on the edge. You strum the cords as it’s perfectly tuned. Joel must’ve tuned it for you. That man was so thoughtful, you just couldn’t get enough of him.

“You remember that song I taught you?” he asks as he comes around the couch and stands a few feet away, looking at you as if he’s waiting on something.

“You mean that Nirvana song?” you ask, not exactly recalling the entire song.

“Yeah. Something In the Way. You remember it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Umm, I think so. It’s been awhile since I played,” you reply honestly.

“Well, go on and try it. I can help ya if you get lost.”

“Right. Okay. Let me see if I remember,” you say as your voice trails off. You get your hands in position and take a deep breath as you line your fingers up just right. You start the song off slow, trying to recall all the notes to play.

You start off strong as you remember the beginning. Joel’s nodding his head in the corner as he watches you, keeping an eye on your fingers as you play. The more he watches you, the more you get nervous. You start to fumble your fingers and mess up the cords as the wrong tune comes out. You’re getting frustrated with yourself that you’re letting your dad’s best friend get you this flustered. It wasn’t fair. What was wrong with you?

“Shit,” you say with a frustrated sigh as you mess up the cords again. You scrunch your brows together and curse under your breath.

“Hey, it’s okay. You just messed up the bridge of the song. Let me show you.” He comes to sit on the couch beside you, so close that his thigh connects with yours as his muscles hug his jeans to him.

He places his left hand on yours as he positions your fingers exactly where they need to be. You bite your lip as his calloused fingers connect with yours, his thick fingers gently guiding you through the bridge. You can’t focus with him this close. He smells like whiskey and pines, a woodsy scent that’s clinging itself to you, making you dizzy from the smell.

You mess up again as you lose focus, only thinking of how good he smells and how delicious he’d taste. You’re starving for him. A hungry lioness that wants to devour her prey. And that prey is Joel.

Your right hand forgets to strum, and you mess up the entire song.

Christ. Get a hold of yourself!

“Sorry, I haven’t practiced in a few weeks. I thought I’d at least remember the entire song. It wasn’t that long ago that I was playing it,” you sigh disheartened.

“You’re doin’ fine, sweetheart. You want me to refresh ya on the song?” he says with deep brown eyes staring you down in question.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you reply with a more upbeat tone.

“C’mere then.” He scoots his body to the back of the couch and spreads his legs as he grabs your waist and pulls you to him, sitting you down right in between his legs, right against his broad chest. His arms circle you as his hands come down on top of yours, covering them with his calloused fingers burning into yours as he positions them on the strings.

You gasp at the position you’re in. Joel had never taught you like this. Being this close, practically in his lap.

Fuck.

“You wanna go over to C and play these cords together.” He takes your fingers and strums them along the neck of the guitar, guiding your right hand to play some different notes. He takes you through the entire song slowly as he guides your fingers through every note.

“Alright, that’s good. There ya go. A little slower, right there. Good,” he murmurs as his deep breath rumbles from his chest, sending vibrations through your back.

His instructions were always so clear, so crisp as he languidly guides you with his rough hands. He was an excellent teacher, the best you’d ever had. Always so careful, so pristine, so diligent, so attentive…

His hot breath is blowing down your neck as he leans over your shoulder, his lips so painstakingly close to your skin that he could lean over and drag his lips over your neck. He scoots his hips up as he comes closer to you, so close that your back is crushed against his broad chest and his biceps are caging you in as you hold the guitar. His thighs are right up against yours as they gently squeeze your legs, making your breathing pick up at how close he is now.

He’s practically suffocating you with his tight abs and woodsy scent, letting the whiskey get you drunk from his breath breathing down your neck. It’s almost insufferable at how worked up you’re getting over him. You’re agitated, sexually frustrated at how fucking much you want to jump in his lap and pull his lips down to yours. Let him get you drunk off his whiskey taste as his tongue explores your mouth thoroughly.

He dismantles his hands from yours and coaxes you to keep going with a gentle, steady voice. “Now, you try by yourself. See if you can play it back to me.” He lets his hands fall to the sides of the couch as he stays in place, your body tucked into his tightly.

“You want me to play it myself?” you ask with hesitation in your voice.

“Mhm. Go on now. Play it for me,” he repeats.

You take a deep breath and get your hands in place, focusing on the cords. You slowly start playing the Nirvana song as the guitar strums to life. You’re getting the hang of it, finally remembering the right cords to play.

As you get further in the song, Joel sits up straighter and leans forward, his hands moving to his jeans and his lips almost brushing your neck. You keep playing, trying not to get distracted by the handsome man that sits behind you.

You’re closing in on the end of the song, just about a minute more left and then Joel interrupts your concentration. “That’s really good, darlin’. Nice and steady. You’re a fast learner. Think I could teach ya harder, more complicated songs in no time,” he replies with a low voice, making you break your train of focus.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask quietly as you continue strumming along lightly, barely picking at the cords.

“Metallica, Bullet for My Valentine, Ghost, all those bands you like,” he lulls as he presses further into you, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You can feel his breath hit your collarbone. That hot, sweltering breath that you want to bask in, burn in.

“I’d like that,” you purr.

“Yeah?” he asks, digging one of his hands into the material of his jeans like he was trying to control himself.

“Yeah,” you reply, still faintly playing the guitar.

Without warning, he lifts his left hand and moves your long, beachy curls out of the way, sweeping them over your left shoulder so he has access to your neck.

He gently slides his nose up the right side of your neck, stopping right before he gets to your earlobe as he breathes in deep. “You smell like citrus and vanilla,” he groans in a deep voice as he moves his right hand to your thigh, resting it gently on the top of it.

Your eyes go wide as his fingers trail up your leg, slowly inching their way to your inner thigh as his fingers flex, running his nails up and down in steady strides, his hand ending just at the cutoff of the denim material, so close that he could lift the edges and dive his hand into darker, wetter regions.

His calloused fingers slowly flex and extend as he gently runs his fingers over your skin, making you want to come absolutely undone right there on the couch. His lips graze your skin as they trail down your neck, barely skimming the surface as you feel just how soft his lips really are. They feel magnetic as he teases you with his lips, not yet fully giving in.

You’re still playing the song, just a few seconds left before it’s over. “Doin’ so good, darlin’. Such a good little guitar player,” he purrs as his lips make contact with your skin, his mouth gently brushing up the side of your neck as you feel him sink down into you, hitting that sensitive spot that drives you crazy.

Fuck.

A wave of slick pools at your center as you squeeze your legs together, a breathless moan getting stuck in your throat. You stop playing, not able to concentrate any longer. Not when his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are pressed against your inner thigh.

“Joel,” you press, your voice coming out as clipped and desperate.

His fingers trail up to the waistband of your jean shorts as he dances his fingers up and down the denim, teasing you like he knows what he’s doing because he does know. He knows damn well what it’s doing to you. He’s working you up nice and slow. Starting that low burn in your stomach as it spreads to your center, down your thighs.

“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he says in a deep, husky voice as he kisss your neck again, his fingers slowly unbuttoning the top button on your jean shorts.

Suddenly the room is too hot, the tension too thick in the air. Your breath is coming in and out like you’re about to hyperventilate and your skin is scorching at his touch. You feel your spine tingling as he grazes his lips against your jawline, his fingers slowly unzipping your shorts, getting ready to take them off.

“Don’t stop, please,” you beg as you move your hips up, slowly setting the guitar to the side as you put your hands on his knees, holding on for dear life.

“Don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep goin’? Want me to show you how else I can use my fingers?” he asks seductively, his voice low as you listen to that melodic tone.

“Yes, please. Show me,” you plead as you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Alright, I’ll show ya. Just ‘cause you asked nicely,” he says as he unzips the zipper all the way and pushes the shorts down your legs, letting them drop to the floor as he trails his fingers up and down your inner thighs, letting you squirm against him as you can’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. How long I’ve had my eyes on you, you pretty thing,” he groans as he ghosts his hand over your center, lightly tugging at your waistband as he slowly lifts the pink lace up, sticking his thumb inside as it trails across the top, not quite yet to your dripping center where you need him the most.

“And those legs. God, those long, tan legs. So soft, so perfect,” he purrs as he trails his left hand up your thigh, letting his finger gently slide down your clothed center as it causes a hiss to come from your mouth.

“You want this?” he asks as he sinks his right hand lower, finding your slick folds as he barely puts pressure on them.

“Oh, fuck. Yes,” you groan out as you try to spread your legs further apart, your center desperate for some relief.

“Mmmm, thought so,” he murmurs, a thick, heavy breath coming from his throat.

He puts more pressure on your center and spreads your folds as he circles you slowly. You can hear the sloshing and sticky noises from your wetness and it’s making you so much more turned on, making you feral for his touch.

“Goddamn, you’re wet, darlin’. All this for me?” he asks with a smirk as he uses his other hand to slowly slide your ruined underwear to the floor, leaving you completely bare on the bottom.

He takes a good look at you as he spreads your legs over his thighs and opens you wider, exposing your dripping cunt that’s at complete mercy to Joel’s hands.

“Fuck, you’re pretty, baby,” he growls as he runs his hands up further and catches your clit as he puts more pressure into it. Circling nice and slow, building up that arousal and heat that threatens to make you come undone in just a matter of time.

“Oh, God,” you moan as you grip his thighs and dig your fingers into his jeans as you lean your back into him, his lips skimming down your jaw as he works at your clit meticulously. Feeding your arousal that’s pooling all around you as another wave of slick washes down your thighs.

“That’s it, darlin’. Gonna show ya exactly how a man should get a woman off. Want you to scream my name by the time I have you comin’. Gonna show you just how good your daddy’s best friend can finger fuck you,” he growls, a low guttural sound coming from deep in his throat. It’s primal and territorial. He’s claiming what’s his. And it’s you. And it’s hot as hell.

You let out a breathy moan as he plunges two fingers into your dripping cunt as he works hard and fast at sliding his fingers in and out of you. Up and down, back and forth as the sounds of slick and wet fingers connect, causing you to buck up your hips at the building sensation. You’re already so close and you can’t take much more. It’s too much. He’s too much.

He presss a hand down on your hips and clicks his tongue, locking you in with his grip so you’re unable to move. “You stay in place, sweetheart. I’m not lettin’ you get away just yet. You’re so close, I can feel it. The way you’re arching your back and tightening your pretty cunt around my fingers. You’re almost there, and I’m gonna make you come hard, understand?” he asks in a low, raspy voice as you feel his bulging erection growing in his jeans as you push back against it.

“Yes. Please, Joel,” you beg as you lay your head against his shoulder, looking up at the now blown out black pits of his eyes as he stares down at you with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Please what?” he smiles down, his smirk playing across the side of his mouth, making him look handsome as hell.

“Make me come,” you whisper out of breath.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.”

He takes his thumb and presses down on the most sensitive spot of your clit as his index and middle fingers work at your insides, pumping in and out as the wet, sloshing noises get louder.

Your legs start to shake as he circles and circles your clit, rubbing faster and harder as your breathing picks up and a hot, burning sensation is right at the edge of spilling over. The room gets heavier and thicker as the gasping moans and heat intertwine together, making a muggy room of desire and seduction.

Your legs are shaking so much that Joel has to hook your right leg under his as his left hand holds your other one down. He’s going to make you ride out this orgasm whether you can handle it or not. The sensation is overbearing as you feel your walls start to spasm as they squeeze around his thick fingers that pump in and out of you.

“Joel, I can’t…I’m so…I’m almost…” you moan in quick, shaky breaths. Barely able to hang on any longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let go. That’s it. Want you to be a good girl and come on my fingers. Come on, almost there,” he coaxes as he speeds up his fingers and plunges deep into the spongy spot of your walls, pressing firmly on your clit in just the right spot.

You feel your insides clench up one more time around his fingers as white, hot heat fills your entire body and then your walls go slack as you feel yourself release hot liquid all over his fingers. You let your eyes roll back as you moan his name loud as the liquid continues to drip down your center and covers the inside of your thighs.

“There ya go. Such a good girl,” he purrs, his eyes bleeding into yours as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

It’s like you’re hypnotized, in a daze the way your body feels like it’s floating as Joel works you through your intense orgasm, his fingers slowly fucking up inside you as he makes sure he gets every drop of slick inside you that he can.

He takes his other arm and gently runs it up and down your thigh, easing you from your orgasm as you slowly come back to earth. He gently uncurls his fingers from inside you and brings them up to his mouth, lapping up the slick on his fingers as your eyes go wide at the provocative action. He gently runs his other hand down your arm in a comforting way and then slowly unlatches your legs from his grip.

“That was incredible…” you express with blown out pupils, your heart racing a thousand miles per hour as you sink all your weight into his chest.

Joel laughs as he pulls you into his lap and caresses your cheek, slowly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear in an affectionate way. He was being so careful with you, so gentle. You felt so safe and secure in his strong arms. It was nothing like you’d felt before with a man. Joel was one of a kind.

“Glad I could make ya feel good,” he laughs as a gentle smile curls up at his lips, his dark eyes hovering over you as his lips are just inches from yours. You want to taste them, see how good they feel on yours.

“I didn’t think…I didn’t know you were into me,” you answer quietly as you stare up at him, waiting for a reply.

He furrows his eyebrows and flexes his jaw before he speaks. “Sweetheart, I’ve liked you for quite some time now. Just didn’t know how to go about it with your dad being my best friend and all.” He sighs and lets his head drop back against the couch as he takes you with him. He rakes a hand through his messy curls and looks back up at you with another sigh. “Your father would kill me if he knew I just finger fucked his daughter.”

“He doesn’t have to know. It’s our own little secret,” you snicker as you lean your head on his chest. “Joel, I’ve liked you a long time. A very long time. I just thought you were off limits.” You shrug as you relax back into him as his arms pull you in and keep you warm.

“I mean technically I should be off limits, but…” He trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence as his eyes are in a far away place.

“But what?” You shake him out of his trance as he comes back down to reality.

“But…I can’t leave you alone now. Not after this,” he gestures to the mess on the couch that you made. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine now. And I don’t intend on sharing,” he growls as his dark eyes penetrate your gaze, sinking deep into you, awakening something that had been dormant till you met him.

Mine? Oh. You liked the sound of that. A lot. And it was possessive, dominant, making you hungry for more of him, needing more of him.

“Then don’t,” you breathe out in a quiet voice, your eyes intently locked on his.

He looks into your eyes with those desperate, needy honey eyes of his and then looks down at your lips, repeating the sequence a couple more times before he cups your chin and brings you in close. He presses his lips to yours as his large hands cup your face. It’s slow, romantic, everything you hoped it would be.

The kiss deepens as you part your lips and invite him in. He slides his tongue in your mouth and collides into yours as he slowly swirls and massages your tongue with his. His lips are so soft and large, feeling like they’re made just for you. And his taste.

God, he tastes so good. You can taste the hint of hazelnut coffee, a drop of whiskey, and maybe a taste of honey as his tongue invades your mouth in all the right places.

You moan into his mouth as he kisses you deeper, faster, more desperate as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls at just the right pressure. It feels good. Like he’s being dominant with you but also soft, the perfect combination.

You push your body up as you straddle his lap, feeling that tight bulge in his pants as you start to unbuckle his leather belt, desperate to get your hands on him. He puts a strong hand around your wrist and stops you before you can go any further.

“And what do ya think you’re doin’?” he asks as he lifts an eyebrow, a small smile hiding behind his serious gaze.

“I just wanted to make you feel good too,” you confess, giving him the best smirk you can muster up.

“Is that so?” he asks with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum, using your free hand to push his broad chest back into the soft couch.

“Hmmm. Alright then, darlin’. Show me.” He lets go of your wrist and lets you pull the belt loose from his dark jeans. You slowly unzip the zipper but before you can pull down his pants, he stops you again as he cups your chin and lifts your head to look into his eyes.

“On your knees,” he growls dominantly as his eyes turn from soft brown to dark black pits as his pupils expand.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply automatically without thinking as you drop to the soft rug, getting on your knees as you place your hands on his muscular thighs.

“Just Joel, darlin’,” he reminds you. “Now, be a good girl and show me how good you can suck this cock.”

He stares down at you with seductive eyes and a large smirk painted across his face. He looks so goddamn pretty. And the way his plaid sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that cover his arms is making you even more turned on.

You waste no time and pull down his jeans and then his black briefs, freeing his erection from the combines of his pants. It plants firmly against his stomach, and you gasp at just how large he is.

Holy shit. He’s massive.

You gulp and scoot up to the edge of the couch as you bring your hand around his thick width. You start sliding your hand up and down his large length, watching as the veins in his cock wrap around him, feeling the coarse, wiry hair that blankets around the base of him, transfixed on just how big he is.

You bring your head down and slowly lick the tip as you let your tongue swirl around all his sensitive spots, still using your hand to slide up and down him as precum bubbles over the edge. You savour the taste of him as you let the salty flavor run down your throat all hot and sticky like. You lick the tip again, this time looking at him seductively under your long eyelashes as you let your hand work up and down his largeness.

“Fuck,” he moans under his breath as you stare up at him, his black pupils blown out as he watches you devour him inch by inch.

You test your limits and take him further into your mouth, going down as far as you can until you gag on him, slowly coming back up for air before you go back down again.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty sucking my cock, darlin’,” he groans as a grabs the back of your hair as you go down on him again, this time taking him deeper, going past your limits. You choke on him as you feel your throat constrict around his length, feeling just how thick he is as the salty taste runs down your throat like warm cider.

He fists your hair and works you up and down him as you gag and choke on his delicious cock. Your eyes water as you feel saliva pool in your mouth and run down your chin as he takes you as far as you can go, speeding up his actions as he fucks your mouth over and over again. Up and down, deeper and deeper. Driving you fucking crazy.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls, sending a wave of slick between your legs as you continue deep throating him.

He loves every second of it, and you love it just as much as he does. You love feeling his cock slide in and out of your mouth, love tasting him, love the way his eyebrows furrow together and the deep, breathless moans he makes from his throat as you make him come to life. And you love how possessive he gets with it. It’s so fucking hot. You revel in making him yours, making him want you, making him feel like he’s the most special man in the world, because he is. He’s so special, and now he’s yours. All yours.

He deep throats you one more time as he hits the back of your throat, making you audibly gag around him as your throat closes up around him, squeezing him as your saliva encases his thick cock.

“Goddamn!” he moans loudly as he pulls out of your throat as the saliva sticks to the end of his hard cock, running a trail of glistening saliva from his tip to your chin as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You miss one as it runs down your face.

Joel leans forward and catches it, wiping it away with his thumb as he cleans the saliva from your chin, making sure you don’t have a spot left on your face.

“You didn’t come,” you say quietly, unsure of why he stopped you.

He bites his bottom lip before answering you back. “I know, darlin’. That’s ’cause I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes turn into deep black pits again as he yanks you up from the floor and straddles you across his lap, the tip of his cock just inches from your weeping entrance as you’re soaked with arousal.

“Want you to ride me, sweetheart. Now get on top of me,” he instructs. He lifts your hips as he moves the tip of his cock to your drenched entrance, just barely slipping in, waiting for you to go down.

“Lower for me,” he demands, his voice raspy and deep. You slowly lower yourself down on him as he presses up deeper into you, expanding your walls right to the point of pain. You wince but keep your face controlled as you start to ride him nice and slow, feeling just how thick he is as you squeeze him, starting to move faster as you go up and down, up and down. Feeling every single flutter that your walls make as his large length caves inside you.

You groan and press your forehead against his as you straddle and ride him, digging your thighs into his sides as he grabs the back of your ass and squeezes, sending slick running down your center. The room starts to grow too hot, the stickiness and humidity mixing in with your fully aroused state. You can feel your hair stick to your face as the sweat shimmers across your forehead. You speed up the intensity, feeling every single detail of his cock as he rams up inside you time and time again. Making you nearly drown in your own slick.

“Fuck,” you groan as you continue riding him, building up that sweet orgasm that’s about to be set free. The sticky, slick noise from him sliding in and out of you is too much. He’s too much, too sexy, too fucking good for you. You need a release, you need to come. This was too much. “Joellllll,” you moan as you draw out the last syllable of his name, begging for him to make you come.

“That’s it, darlin’. Taking me so fucking good like the good girl you are. You’re almost there. I can feel it,” he says seductively, making you bite your lip at how sexy his bedroom voice is. It’s low, deep, provocative. A noise that could make you come just at the sound of. He’s electric.

“Want some assistance, darlin’?” he asks with low, drawn out words. Setting your insides on fire.

“Mhmm,” you hum out, trying your best to keep yourself in one piece.

He grabs the back of your hair and pulls you to his mouth as he devours you, biting your lower lip and shoving his tongue inside your mouth as he twirls around yours, setting your taste buds on fire. Drowning in his coffee and whiskey taste, wanting to drink him down until you can’t taste anything except him. Only him.

He takes control and places his hands on your hips as he bucks up inside you, thrusting deeper and deeper until he’s bottoming out, hitting you so deep that you swear you start seeing stars.

You place your hands around his neck and hold tight, your fingers wrapping around the curls that reach the back of his head as you claw at him, running your nails through his scalp. He moans at the sensation and continues plunging into you with his massiveness taking over you entirely, feeling every vibration through your body as you’re on cloud nine. You’re almost there, almost…

“You on birth control?” he asks with gritted teeth, a low growl leaving his throat as he thrusts inside you, sinking his nails into your sides.

“Mhm,” you choke out a moan, barely able to answer.

“Mmmm that’s good. Real good. Gonna spill all inside ya then. Is that what you want, darlin’? Want my cum inside that pretty pussy?” he asks with a gritted, clipped tone that’s full of arousal.

“Yes, please. Fuck,” you moan as he places his thumb on the throbbing bud of your clit, pressing just enough to pull that building orgasm out of you as you clench around his thick cock and feel white, hot heat slide over you.

You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling yourself unclench from him as you spill all down his long length. You feel your fingertips go tingly, the sensation making its way all the way down to your toes as they curl, feeling your heart speed up as the palpitations set in. It’s the most intense orgasm you ever had in your entire life, and you know then that you will never be able to get Joel out of your head. You’re hooked like a shot of espresso. Needing to consume it every day to be able to function properly. He’s like a drug. Nightshade. Deadly but intoxicating, a taste you can’t resist. A taste you crave, want, desire.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Your face is so fucking pretty when you cum, when you’re saying my name,” he growls as he emphasizes the my. Making it sound like you belonged to him now. And fuck you want that more than anything.

He thrusts inside you faster, harder as he knits his eyebrows together, getting caught in deep concentration as his breaths become ragged, unhinged. “You’re so tight, feels so good inside ya. You’re squeezing me so hard. Goddamn, you pretty thing,” he groans as he digs his fingers into your hips, pounding once, twice, three more times before he holds you down on his thighs and rolls his eyes up to look into yours with those black pits staring up at you hungrily.

He opens his mouth and moans as he spills his cum inside you. You feel the sticky, hot mess coat your walls as he thrusts once more, getting his fill of you entirely. Your breathing is rough and winded as you chase down your high from the intense fucking.

He keeps you there, staying inside you for just a few minutes as you both collect your breath and just stare at each other, taking in each other’s ecstasy and heat as the tension doesn’t disperse from the room. It stays like a hot, summer day with the humidity intensifying. It’s like you’re in the middle of a rainforest. It’s so hot, so suffocating, so muggy. And you can see that you’re caught in the middle of a hard spot. Alone with the stalking panther that wants to eat you alive. And that panther is Joel. He catches you, and now you’re all his for the taking. A complete menace at best.

He finally slides out of you as you feel his seed start to drip from you as it drops against his thighs, mixing in with the sweat and lust from each other. He falls to his back on the couch and brings you with him as he pulls you into his arms and brings your legs over his as he gently drags his fingers up and down them, soothing you from the hot cardio you had just taken part in.

“Fuck,” he says in a deep voice as he kisses the top of your head and brings his hand under your chin, lifting it so he can look into your eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby. And your eyes. They’re so beautiful, they’re practically sparkling for me right now, just like diamonds.” Your breath catches as he gazes over you, admiring your beauty and charm as he caresses your cheek affectionately.

Oh, God. You’re in trouble. You’re falling hard and fast for your dad’s best friend. What a mess.

“Joel,” you say with admiration as you rake your fingers through his salt and pepper scruff, acquiring a slight groan from deep in his throat from the light touch. “I like you. A lot,” you breathe as you hold back tears from streaming over. You don’t want this to be over. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it be.

“Oh, darlin’. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you, to hold you, to feel just how soft your skin really was. Been holdin’ back a long time. But something snapped in me tonight. When I saw you with that guy. I wanted to wring his fucking neck,” he spits as his eyes go cold. You gasp at the intensity of him. Of his words. He really does like you. This is real, it’s all real. And you just can’t believe it.

You run your hand down his broad chest as he pulls you closer, and you lean into him as your head rests on his chest, feeling every ragged breath go in and out as his chest rises and falls in waves.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you alone now, darlin’. Not after this,” he says, holding you tight as he strokes your cheek, pulling back another strand of hair behind your ear softly.

“Then don’t,” you breathe, hope filling your gut as you cling to his bulky, tight arms.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he plays with your soft curls, running his hand through your hair gently as it sends a wave of warmth and serotonin over you, completely calming you of any anxiety. “I don’t intend to, darlin’. You’re all mine,” he coos.

Mine. There it was again. You were his and it felt so right.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums as the vibrations in his chest reverberate around you like a thunderstorm but calming you entirely.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you ask in a quiet, meek voice.

“‘Course, sweetheart. I wasn’t planning on takin’ ya home. Not after this. You’re stayin’ with me.” He cups your chin and slowly brings his lips down on yours as you drink him in nice and slow, fully embracing the taste of him that was now a part of you.

When you finally break apart, you look up at him with a worried look on your face, your anxiety returning in full force like a galloping horse about to collide with another.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows and soft brown eyes that are searching your face, trying to find what was wrong.

“My dad….what if he somehow finds out that we…what if…”

He puts his thumb on your lips and hushes you, a gentle soothing sound coming from his mouth. “We can worry about that another day. He ain’t gonna find out,” he reassures you.

The unsettled feeling dwells in the pit of your stomach, and the worried expression doesn’t leave your face as you continue looking at him. A tear threatening to pool at the corner of your eye, but you hold it in. Not wanting to worry Joel with your anxious thoughts.

“Hey, you trust me?” he asks as he looks deep in your eyes, his brown eyes honing in like a hawk.

“Yes, of course,” you nod.

He takes your hand in his as he clasps his thick fingers around yours. “Then believe me when I say this will work out. I’m not lettin’ ya go, darlin’. I’m gonna make sure your daddy doesn’t find out. He ain’t gonna suspect a thing.”

You nod up at him, slowly pulling yourself back together. “Okay,” you agree.

“Alright. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower and get ya to bed. You must be exhausted,” he says as he pulls you up from the couch, picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs to his bathroom.

After the warm shower, you get right in his bed with him. Wrapped up in his strong arms with one of his large plaid shirts hugging your body as you breathe in his pine and woodsy scent, enveloping yourself entirely in him as you memorize exactly what he smells like. Wanting to remember this moment as the best night of your life.

You fall asleep shortly as you listen to the faint sound of his breathing as you lay against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. And that night you only dream of brown eyes, broad arms, thick fingers, and wet, sticky sensations. But one thing still clings to the back of your mind as you dream of Joel. Just one thing that you can’t quite shake as it interrupts your sweet, wet dreams of Joel. And that one thing is your dad.

Fuck. You just had mind blowing sex with your daddy’s best friend.

Tags: @janaispunk @studioghibelli @cinnamongorll @callmecath1 @joelalorian @dugiioh @ladamari68 @amyispxnk @pedrostories @tuquoquebrute

Part 2

808 notes · View notes

pickingupmymercedes · 2 months

Text

Ways to say "I love you" - Lewis Hamilton

I'm back with more Lew ❤️

warnings: mostly fluff, bit of angsty

wordcount: +3k

important: each drabble was writen as a snippet into different moments with Lewis. There's 10 more of those, but this was getting huge, so this is part 1.

With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

Life had been hectic, as it tended to be around the weeks before the final couple of races. You and Lewis had been on the road since mid October, not really going back to Europe since the US GP in Texas. The week off between São Paulo and Las Vegas the perfect opportunity to take a few days off in California with his friends. It was tiring, but you’d never complain of having a full passport as a down feature for your job.

The week of the Las Vegas GP was packed of events and promo for everyone, and to top it off a quick impromptu meeting with the board in the media day of the GP turned into a 5 hours long debate, that went well into the night.

You got back to your suite almost at midnight in serious need of a shower and some sleep. What you didn’t predict was Lewis already tucked into the bed, sound asleep.

You tiptoed around the room to try and find your things, not being lucky in the slightest you settled for a shirt Lewis had used in the road trip from LA to Vegas. The quick shower, only meant to decompress, had you engulfed in Lewis’ perfume, from both his shower products and shirt.

Lewis soft breathing guided you to the bed in the darkness of the room and when you got under the soft covers a pair of arms guided you to his chest, the one place sure to get you blacked out in minutes.

“They're in serious trouble for keeping you for so long” his horse voice an indication he had been in deep sleep already

“Sorry, took longer than we expected”

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself. Gonna have to lock you up at home during winter”

“No need, I’ll always find my way to you”. You mumbled into his neck, already nestling closer to him, ready to drift off.

A scream

“I love you” You screamed when you realized you’d never catch him, mid airport track, hoping the wind would somehow carry your words. His head turned abruptly, his face had confusion written all over his features, he was stuck in place, too stunned to comprehend the sudden confession you were hollering to the world but couldn’t say aloud to him just hours ago. You ran to him, security, people and restrictions be damned, that was your one chance.

“I love you, Lewis. I have loved you for longer than I care to admit, I have not stopped loving you even when I said I didn’t, even when hating you was all I wanted.” within arm’s reach you admitted breathlessly, doe eyes looking at you with such intensity you were sure he could see into your soul. His hands cautiously outstretching towards yours, waiting for you to take it, waiting for your mind to catch up to the feelings you had just admitted, waiting to see if you’d finally let your heart take over.

You didn’t take his hand though, going instead for the back of his neck, caressing the soft skin at the base of his hairline with your fingers, his overwhelming gaze waiting for your next move, for you to fully give in, looking from his eyes to his mouth until his scent and his touch were all that you felt. His hold on the lower of your back, the brush of his eyelashes on your cheeks and his taste on your lips were all you could ever want. The decision of a lifetime, one that after that day you would make every day, over and over.

On a random Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair

The thing with Lewis was he was too much of an Capricorn for his own good, the earth in him urged for stability and trust, and in the familiarity and serenity of home he urged for security, not that he wanted a predictable life, but he wished that no matter what, he had someone he could fall back on.

“Move in with me” He blurred out of nowhere causing you to lightly laugh at him, scotching closer to his chest as if there was any space left between you, both laying comfortably tangled in each other in his house in London. Pillows and blankets around you on the floor, the late afternoon sunlight hitting the glass on the dining table and reflecting up at the ceiling, a movie on the tv neither were paying attention to.

“I mean it. I don’t see myself without you, I don’t want to anyway.” he almost whispered in your ears, the low volume to his voice amplifying the seriousness in his proposal. Turning your head to look at him you held your gaze into his for minutes, almost daring him to call off the offer, but he never did. His warm smile spreading onto his features when you crocked your head and smirked, specks of the late sunlight glowing where they hit your hair.

“I’d love to” you murmured, straddling him and pushing his chest so he’d lay back down on the blankets, hovering your face over his, leaving ghostly soft kisses on his lips, coming back up to look him in the eye, time and time again. Convincing yourself that it was okay to finally let your walls down for good.

“I love you; you know?!” a statement so surely presented to your, so pure. He didn’t wait to hear it back before pulling your to his chest and his lips, he didn’t have to.

When baking chocolate chip cookies

“We’re baking chocolate chip cookies!” You exclaimed as you entered his home gym in London mid-winter break, supplies in hand already anticipating half of the ingredients wouldn’t exist in his fridge.

“Excuse me?” He questioned as he set the weights down and reached for the towel to get the sweat dry from his forehead

“C’mom, vegan chocolate chip cookies” you rushedly told him already half way back inside, leaving a confused Lewis searching for any meaning to what had just happened.

As he approached his kitchen, he could hear the soft music playing in the speakers in the background while you danced around arranging the things you’d need.

“Care to explain, love?” He leaned at the stool just under the glistening spotlight and the couple of trays spread at the kitchen island.

“Your niece and nephew are coming over tomorrow” She retorted, almost a duh expression on her features as she chopped the vegan chocolate bar.

“Y/n, they know I’m preparing for the season” He lovingly replied, getting closer to you.

“Oh, they’re not exactly for you, Lew. I mean, they’re still vegan if you want to try them.” You turned into his embrace, leaving a kiss to the corner of his lips before wiggling back to where the many food items were.

“You show up at my house midafternoon, fully stacked, to bake vegan cookies for kids that aren’t coming until tomorrow and don’t really expect to eat anything but fruits ?!” He crocked his head, smirk fully on display as his eyes gleamed.

“That’s like half the reason I came. Apples and bananas are fine, but they are kids.” You shrugged as that was the most obvious thing.

“We’re really baking cookies then, I guess?!” He reached to you and grabbed the flour off of your hand, pouring it into a bowl.

“Chocolate chip cookies” You corrected him, laughing as he stole a few of the chopped chocolates still sitting on the chopping board

Not said to me

You jolted up from your sleep when you heard a loud cry, frantically looking around the room you remembered you weren’t home when your eyes found the luggage in the corner, yours and Lewis’s belongings neatly tucked in the adjoining closet, a stark contrast to the baby clothes and toys scattered around the floor and armchairs. Slowly coming to your senses, you realized the crying was in your dreams when you heard a happy babble, followed by your husband’s low voice coming from the balcony of the hotel room.

“Sshh love, we don’t want to wake mamma up now do we? She’s taking a nap so we can go for a walk down the beach later.” The little girl instantly responding with a babble at the word she knew all too well.

Getting up you didn’t have the heart to interrupt the scene that played out when you peaked from the opened French doors of the room, deciding to quietly watch from the threshold as he kept blowing raspberries onto your daughter’s tummy, the chunky toddler in nothing but her diapers, in the hot afternoon summer breeze of Italy in July, excitedly clapping her hands for her dad while sitting on his legs.

“Oh, I miss her too baby, even when she’s just in the other room… I’ll tell you a secret though, even if momma tells the world we’re twins, every time I see your eyes, I see hers, the same one I’ve been in love with for a long time. Everyone says you are my hard carbon copy, but I love that I get to look into a piece of your mommy whenever I look at you".

When we lay together by the sun

The sun in your skin felt divine, a stark contrast to the wintery end of year you’d been having back in Europe, the heat and humidity in the air bringing to your senses the familiarity of northeast Brazilian weather in the hottest months of the year. His touch on your shoulder blades providing even more warmth, big hands massaging your whole back with sunscreen.

“By all means I’m the biggest fan of your back massages, but I put on sunscreen just a couple of hours ago” you giggled looking at him over your shoulders, sunglasses on the tip of your nose.

“Just making sure you’re protected, will you do mine?” He asked after tying the strings on the upper part of your bikini and giving your bum a checky light smack.

“Yeah… come here you Briton” grabbing him by the arms you sat up on the lounger and guided him to sit in between in your legs, his back already hot from the sun exposure.

“Thank you for coming here with me, I know we made it a 4 times header not going home to rest for a bit after Mexico.” You told him while spreading the white content of the Brazilian sunscreen you’d bought, throwing away the british one, not properly suited to sun in the tropics from your past experiences.

“Any time, love.” turning to face you he pulled you by the waist, his signature smirk and relaxed eyes scanning yours. “Especially when it includes this little paradise.”

“Have I told you I love you yet?” You questioned, the toothy grin he loved so much splattered on your face, his strong arms around you, the sounds of crashing waves in the background, white sand in your toes and his skin smelling just like your favorite childhood memories did.

“Not today, I don’t think so. Eu te amo” a questioning look as he tested his Portuguese around you, crushing his lips in yours while you giggled, raising you up to his body so he could hold you in his lap, his touch also how home felt to you.

Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble

He felt the first little droplets of rain hit his skin as soon as she screamed “run”, laughing while holding her oversized hat to her head. He sprinted towards her, grabbing her waist, effortlessly stopping them both and turning her body to him, her eyes holding the warmth that lately he could only find there, his face adorned with adoration, her dimples fully showing as her lips plastered the sweetest of grins.

“I love you” He couldn’t help himself, those 3 little words coming out as easily as breath, the thought of how hard it’d been to get them out in the first place long forgotten. She held his gaze as if trying to eternalize those memories, the afternoon summer rain falling hard around them whilst rays of sunlight hit the concrete, their clothes drenched, drops of water running down their tangled bodies.

“I love you; I love you; I love you” senseless babbles that professed his utmost emotion, holding her up to him and kissing in the pouring rain like they were teenagers in a cheesy movie.

A whisper in the ear

Being back to Europe always took you some time to get acclimated, and it didn’t help that that particular winter had been the coldest in years, so much colder than what your body was used to, so you wrapped yourself up in blankets waiting for your boyfriend to get out of the shower and join you in bed, hopefully helping you to warm up.

His parents, siblings, niece and nephew were gathered for an impromptu 5 days getaway in the mountains, in the middle of wintery January, snow everywhere and days filled with winter sports, fireplaces and laughter from the people that had welcomed you as family.

“Hey gorgeous, I thought you’d still be down there” he smirked his way to the open luggage on the little sofa by the bed, towel low on his hips and another in his hand for his face.

“Everyone went to bed, something about getting some sleep to beat you on the slopes tomorrow” You giggled the last part, knowing how competitive they could get. He chuckled and made his way towards you, getting under the blankets and bringing you over to his side, just his presence enough to soothe away the tight muscles from the cold.

“How come you’re always running so cold?” he whispered in your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist and hips and bringing you to his chest. His skin radiating warmth and the smell of your body wash, since he’d forgotten to pack his. Fingers absentmindedly tracing random patterns on your thighs, your eyes lazily trying to focus on the news on the tv but failing miserably, the world could wait until the next morning.

“I love you” was the last thing you heard he whisper, his hoarse voice heavy with sleep, his arms scooching your body closer to his while making sure the blankets covered you both before he let his own sleep take over.

As we huddle together, the storm raging outside

Sundays after races would always be busy for the both of you. The rain was falling hard as you entered the small RV as quietly as you could, founding Lewis ingulfed in his own thoughts and feelings when you finally cleared through your duties, way past the time you wish had.

Taking in how his arms and back looked tense while he rested his head on both his hands sitting in the small sofa, you brought yourself to stand right in front of him, softly running your finger on his neck until he looked up offering a sad side smile and tugged you to his lap. You hadn’t spoken to each other since before he got in his car, well over 4 hours prior, but you didn’t have to.

He needed time to process what happened, he always did. Lewis could always come to interviews looking like he had it all together, always with the right words, but you knew, from the crease in his forehead and the way his shoulders dropped whenever he breathed a little deeper, that his calculating-looking actions and words were just knee-jerk reactions.

“I love you” you said into his neck, a consolation of sorts, huddling together, sitting on his lap with his head resting on your chest and his arms holding your waist tightly. At least in that small room, neither of you had to think about the storm brewing outside, not yet anyway.

Over the shoulder

The championship had, yet again, came down to the last race and the doom could be felt even from outsiders. The last time it happened Lewis wasn’t even a Ferrari driver, but everyone remembered.

You had tried to block the subject from your conversations with him, warned everyone he had enough of the comparisons, made sure he had all the space to breath, concentrate and shield all the noise from the outside. Yet, in the apparent serenity of the hotel bedroom, the quietness would scream back at him.

“What if it’s not meant to be?” He snapped you out of your thoughts as you finished some reports on your computer. His eyes a mix of something you couldn’t quite pint point, his walls up even for you.

“Then you’re still a 7 times world champion, a driver who’s won for McLaren, Mercedes and Ferrari, a trailblazer in the sport, entrepreneur over a variety of assets, founder of Mission 44, British knight, Brazilian honorary citizen, Anthony and Carmen’s son, Nicolas’ brother, my mom’s favorite son-in-law… oh and Roscoe’s dad, of course.” He smiled as you got to his family, scootching over to be by your side on the balcony sofa and laying his head on your lap.

“I would hate to be an almost champion… twice”

“Yeah, we would all hate that too. And it’s okay to feel all kinds of way about possible results, but we’re not gonna known until we know, right?!” You felt him humm in response, your fingertips going through his braids, trying to sooth the tensions away from him.

It wasn’t until the soft humming of a phone in the bedroom that you realized you had fallen asleep in the balcony, his body moving almost automatically to get him up while his features revealed how he too had dozed off.

“Will you still love an almost champion?” He prompted suddenly, almost like he had just remembered he had to know, eyes twinkling under the lights.

“Babe, I stayed even in the timbs phase, didn’t I?” You smirked back earning a full soundless chuckle, those that had him reach for his diaphragm and shake his head left to right.

“You’re lucky I love you; you really are.” You heard as he looked over his shoulders just as he got back inside.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1

507 notes · View notes

moonhoures · 7 months

Text

Relax

🕷️ kinktober — day 3: bath sex 🕸️

pairing: yeosang (ateez) + reader (g/n)

genre: non-idol!au, fluff, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, established relationship, yeosang has a fractured ankle, reader gives yeosang a handjob in the bath, mentions of a blowjob but no actual blowjob (sorry 😣)

word count: ~2.6k

synopsis: after yeosang gets injured, you have no problem helping him in any way he needs ;)

a/n: i’m such a sucker for fics where one partner is injured and the other takes care of them ;-; so i had fun writing this ^_^

posted: october 3, 2023

kinktober masterlist

“Augh!”

Your boyfriend yelped out in pain, getting your attention all the way from the kitchen where you were loading the dishwasher. You quickly shut the dishwasher door and bolted to the living room to check on him. You huffed in disappointment, getting a sheepish look from your boyfriend in return.

“You’re not supposed to stand up without me to help you,” you chided him, gesturing for him to sit back down on the couch, “What were you trying to do anyways?”

He frowned, plopping back down onto the couch and wincing from the discomfort he felt in his ankle, “I was trying to get the TV remote.”

“You should’ve called me, Yeo, I’m literally in the next room,” you spoke to him with a softer tone now, grabbing the remote from the table on the opposite end of the room to hand it to him. You got a good look at him, noticing the bags under his eyes and the flushed tone in his cheeks. He was so tired and in so much pain. The medicine the doctor had given him for his fractured ankle could only help so much, but Yeosang had been taking it like a champ for the most part. He was just having trouble adjusting to the ‘relying on people’ part of his injury.

“How are you feeling?” you asked him when he didn’t reply to your first comment.

He sighed, slumping further into the cushions, “Just like every other day. Terrible.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you couldn’t recount how many times you had asked him that question this past week, but Yeosang was growing irritated from hearing it. He appreciated your help, he did, but he couldn’t help but feel so pitiful and useless in this condition. Not being able to move on his own without risking even further injury. He hated relying on you to do his daily tasks.

“No, I don’t want to bother you anymore than I already am,” he admitted, looking past you at the TV.

Now you were the one frowning, taking the empty spot beside him, “You’re not bothering me. I’m happy to help you with whatever you need. If there’s anything I can do to make you feel a little better, then I want to do it.”

He glanced at you with a hint of a smile on his lips, “You’re too nice.”

“I was thinking helpful would be a better word,” you joked, making him chuckle softly. Just then an idea popped into mind, “What about a bath? I could use the new bubble bath I got, and the salts you like.”

Yeosang was usually a shower kind of guy, but being that he wasn’t able to stand for long with his ankle and there was no room for him to sit in the shower, he had been enjoying the tub more. Some nights you let him use the lavender-scented salts you bought, and he seemed to relax more with those. When you would go in to help him out of the tub, he would comment how much nicer your stuff smells than the ‘manly’ stuff he used.

“And if you want a spa experience, I can pull up some jazz music and hot towels.”

Yeosang laughed at that, nodding, “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

You hopped up off the couch, glee apparent on your face as you did so, “Perfect. You stay right there while I go run the water. Don’t move a muscle!”

Yeosang watched with amusement as you ran off to the bedroom, and shortly after he could hear the faint sound of the bath water running. He didn’t realize, but he was grinning. He was wondering how he got so lucky to have someone in his life that cared about him the way you did. He thought he must’ve been a really great person in his past life, very charitable. He thought you must be his good karma returning to him.

“Okay,” you emerged from the bedroom several minutes later, “It’s ready for you.”

Your boyfriend waited until you got closer before he started to get up. You supported him with one arm, letting him rest some of his weight on you to keep it off of his left leg. He hissed as he took a step and felt the nerves firing in his ankle, making the limb below his calf ache.

“You okay?”

Yeosang nodded, and you helped him take the first step, then the next. A couple minutes later, he let out a sigh of relief as you both finally made it to the bathroom. You fixed him up sitting on the edge of the tub. He took a deep breath, a smile on his face as he took in the sweet smell of lavender and something else. That’s when he noticed the two eucalyptus candles that were lit on the counter across the room.

“Candles? Really?”

“I told you I was giving you the full spa experience,” you spoke nonchalantly, “Let’s get these off of you.”

He let you tug his shirt off of him, ruffling his hair up in the process. He pulled his shorts and boxers down to his knees, and you took them from there, cautious of his ankle while removing them. Then you stood by, body tense while you let him settle in the tub by himself, ready at any moment to help if he needed you. But luckily he didn’t need any help. He hummed in satisfaction, sinking further into the water, rippling the bubbles away from him.

“Is the temp okay?”

He merely nodded and hummed, looking as cozy as a baby in a snug blanket. You broke out into a smile, walking away to get a towel for him.

“Call me if you need anything,” you told him, leaving the towel off to the side where he could reach. His eyes widened, and he sat up a little.

“Wait- I want you to stay here with me.”

“For what?”

“I just- I don’t want to be by myself. Can you just stay here and talk to me?”

How could you say no?

“Of course I can.”

You sat down beside the bathtub, letting your left arm rest along the edge. You rested your chin on your arm, then tilted your head so your cheek was pressed against your skin.

“Have you talked to the guys recently?” you asked him, trying to find a conversation to start.

“Yunho texted me this morning,” he replied, “Said it doesn’t feel the same getting breakfast without me.”

Small, soft smiles widened on both your cheeks and his at the wholesomeness. You knew Yeosang’s injury was hard for him, but it was also hard on you and his friends. Not having the usual, happy Yeosang around was weird, but at least you lived with him. You could still hang out with him, and you slept in the same bed as him at night. His friends didn’t have the same fortune, and these days they were so busy they barely had time to visit him. At this point they were just counting down the days until he was clear to roam around on his own so they could resume as normal. The eight amigos.

“They all miss you, I’m sure,” you said. You let the fingers on your right arm dip into the water. Your fingertips grazed over the surface, twirling the suds, making them dance. You entertained yourself with them as Yeosang talked about taking things for granted before. How he wished he could do his day-to-day stuff like normal again.

“Like what?” you questioned him, “You can do all the same stuff, you just need help to do it. And like I said, that’s what I’m here for.”

“But-“ your boyfriend paused, then decided against what he was going to say. But now you were intrigued.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, ears turning pink. It seemed like he was a little ashamed or embarrassed of what he was thinking.

“No, tell me. What? Is my help not good enough?” you teased, “Because there’s no way you can say that after I did all this for you.” You gestured to the rest of the room.

He shook his head again, “No, you’ve been a big help. And I’m really thankful. It’s just- I need help with something that doesn’t have to do with my injury.”

The look he gave you was pointed, and at first you didn’t understand what he was implying. But it dawned on you after a moment. Of course, he was a human with needs and desires, and a body. Your eyes glanced down at the bubbles that were starting to dwindle down into suds, leaving empty patches of water on the surface. One patch just so happened to expose his half-erect penis in his lap.

When he first came home from the doctor’s, you were very strict about him taking it easy. You wanted him to recover as soon as possible. Sex was the last thing on your mind, and had been since. Your sole focus was taking care of him and making sure his needs were met, just not in that way. You weren’t even acknowledging your own needs in the process.

“Oh.”

“But it’s okay. I- I’ve been taking care of them, uh, when I get the chance,” his ears were red now, out of pure bashfulness. You found it cute. When he got like this, you loved teasing him, making him even more flustered.

“I’m sorry, my love. You should’ve told me,” you cooed, fingertips gliding across the water until they met his biceps. You grazed them, emerging from the water onto his wet skin. You felt him tense a bit under your touch, and it made your lips twitch.

“I was going to, but I felt bad. You’ve been helping me with so much. I don’t want to ask you for anything else,” he confessed.

“You’re not a burden, Yeo,” you assured him, making eye contact with him as your fingers came to rest on his shoulder. You drew lazy circles over his skin, making goosebumps appear on it, “I want to help you. With whatever you need.”

His eyes were hazy now, as if he was entranced by you. And honestly, he was. He had been thinking about fucking you for weeks now, but was unable to initiate anything in his state because he was nervous about furthering his injury in some way. And you weren’t initiating, so he resorted to suffering in silence. Eventually he got to the point that he couldn’t take it anymore, and he ended up fisting his cock furiously in the bathroom. But all he wanted was you.

He gulped when your hand moved to his chest, smoothing it over his pecs. Your fingertips pausing to squeeze his nipple lightly. He twitched, making you giggle. He was so sensitive. You loved it.

You trailed even further, breaking the water’s surface again to slip over his abs. The subtle terrain of muscles under skin that displayed how diligently he had worked out—well, up until he had fractured his ankle.

Then, you felt it. The sparse hair that grew along his V-line. The feeling of it had you drawing your lip between your teeth, because you knew what would soon follow.

The stretch of skin that led to what you really wanted. The base of his cock, now growing by the second. It was starting to throb in anticipation, turning red along the shaft. The thin veins were standing out. You wanted him in your mouth so bad, but you would have to make-do with your position right now.

You took him in your grasp, giving him the lightest squeeze, and yet he still let out a whimper. It was soft, so soft you almost missed it.

“How’s that, baby?”

“Good,” he squeaked out, “K-keep going. Please.”

The suds were almost non-existent by now, so you could see clearly everything you were doing below the water. You were both enjoying the show, eyes glued between his legs. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in pant-like bursts as you started to slowly drag your hand up and down his length. The friction was a little difficult to work through, but you were determined to make it work. You paused at the end of his dick, swiping your thumb over the slit. Precum floated through the water in little ribbons then disappeared. You couldn’t wait to have his cum do the same, and neither could he.

“Please,” he whined again, eyes closing for a moment. His hands were balling into fists at his side.

“Just relax, my love.”

He nodded, letting the back of his head rest against the edge of the tub. His eyes screwed shut even more as you continued to stroke him, a little faster this time. You saw his legs shift, moving the water in the tub. His body was preparing an orgasm all because of you. His chest moved up and down, and you could see his abs tensing. His fingernails were biting into his palms.

“________, it feels so good,” he whispered, “So much better than my hand.”

You bit back a smile, “I know, baby. Are you close? Can you cum for me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded eagerly, and as if on cue, his thighs tensed up.

You quickened your pace some more, an ache growing in your forearm, but you ignored it.

“What did you think about when you jerked off, Yeo? Me?”

“Yes,” he admitted it without hesitation.

“What about me?”

“Everything. Being inside you. In your mouth.”

“My mouth? You want to fuck my mouth, baby?”

“Yeah,” he moaned, eyes opening to look at you. You looked back at him with eyes full of allure, full of all the things he wanted and more. It drove him crazy, “Fuck, yes.”

“As soon as we get out of this bathroom, my mouth is all yours,” you said, watching his face twist into sexual agony. If it wasn’t for his godforsaken ankle, he would’ve had you bent over the bathroom counter already.

“Please,” he was desperate this time, and his body was getting closer to climaxing. He whined and his thighs thrashed, pushing the now-lukewarm water up along the tub’s edges.

Some of the water had managed to escape and roll down the outside of the bath, dripping down and falling to the floor. But you didn’t care, you ardently pumped his cock, choking up just below his tip. He loved when you did that, and it brought him even closer, until finally your name came out of his mouth in a whine.

His toes curled, and every part of his body clenched as rope upon rope of cum shot out of him and carried on the water over his lap. His cock twitched in your grip as your strokes slowed. Then you removed your hand from him completely, letting him recuperate. He melted into the water, sinking his shoulders below the surface. He sighed after a while of regaining his composure, but the tips of his ears remained a bright pink color.

“Best spa ever,” he breathed out, causing you both to laugh.

“I think if this was a real spa, I would be losing my job,” you joked, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

He turned his head to you, capturing your lips with his and deepening the kiss. He kissed you like he was hungry for you, teeth nipping at the skin of your lips. Your cheek was surprised to feel cool water when his hand reached up to hold it. The same, wet hand slid down from your face to your neck, fingertips digging into your skin the smallest amount. You groaned against his lips before he pulled away.

“Did you mean it? As soon as we leave the bathroom?” he asked, and you didn’t even have to think about it. You knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Yes, I meant it.”

“Then please help me get out of this tub.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @mrsdacherry @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite

#ateez #ateez smut #yeosang smut #kang yeosang smut #ateez fanfic #ateez hard hours #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #yeosang fanfic #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #[🕷️] kinktober 23

1K notes · View notes

babydollmarauders · 1 year

Text

CLUMSY — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: quinn and luke realize how clumsy y/n is after noticing how often jack unconsciously keeps her from harm

notes: y/n is written sensitive and clumsy! also, i wrote this on saturday to have something to post this week while i’m unable to write <3

i’ve met my boyfriends family on numerous occasions since we started dating in october. mostly through quick trips such as Quinn coming into town for a game against the Devils and whatnot, but this is my first time spending an elongated amount of time with them and i have this irrational fear that they’ll dislike me.

Jack has assured me multiple times since we’ve arrived at the lake house for the summer that i have no reason to worry, but it’s been four days and i still feel like they’re forming their opinions on me. so, i’ve taken it upon myself to do whatever i can in order to get them to like me; including my current task of baking cookies.

“you know they already love you, right?” Jack asks, standing at the counter beside me, observing as i mix the dry ingredients into a bowl. “you don’t need to bake them cookies.”

“are you saying you don’t want my sea salt chocolate chip cookies?” i keep focused on the task at hand, my sight never leaving the measuring cup as i scoop the flour into the bowl.

“now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” a hearty chuckle escapes his lips as he maneuvers himself behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist as he clings himself to me, his cheek resting pressed against my shoulder blade. “i definitely want your cookies. i’m just saying that my brothers don’t need them.”

i giggle as his fingers tickle at the bits of my sides where my shirt has risen, arching my back to try and escape his hands. Jack groans as i break free from his grip, but i assume it’s mostly due to his brothers entering the kitchen.

“ooh, what are you making?” Luke wonders, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the counter.

“cookies!” i grin, finally looking up as i finish the dry ingredients.

“yum.” Quinn chimes in, sidling into the spot beside Luke. he peers into the bowl and his brows furrow slightly. “y/n, that’s just powder?”

i bark out a laugh at the clueless boy.

“Quinny, you have to mix the dry ingredients first. then the wet ingredients such as eggs, butter and vanilla. and then you mix them both together to form the dough.” i explain. i scan the countertop, making sure i have each item needed for the next step. “i need another bowl.”

i bend down, opening the lower cupboard and reaching for the metal mixing bowl inside.

“Trevor texted me this morning.” i hear Jack inform the boys.

“yeah? when’s he coming up?” Quinn asks.

“in two weeks. but Alex is getting here tomorrow.” Jack says. i shut the cupboard door, stretching my legs to rise back up from my position. my head bumps Jack’s hand, wrapped around the lip of the counter above where i was bent.

my left hand rubs the top of the back of my head super quick as i set the mixing bowl on the counter. i glance back up as Luke and Quinn share an amused look and my face scrunches in confusion.

what did i miss?

Jack’s left arm rests on my shoulders, my face half buried into his chest as he scrolls on his phone. Quinn and Luke sit in armchairs on opposite sides of the couch as Alex sits on the opposite side of Jack. a movie plays on the tv, but i’m momentarily distracted by Ellen walking past the back of the couch, calling out a goodnight.

“goodnight El!” i call back as she makes her way to the stairs, the boys all muttering their own goodnight’s.

“brunch tomorrow, while the boys golf?” she asks, confirming our plans. i nod and she grins, blowing a kiss towards the group of us as she finally walks up the stairs.

“you guys are going to brunch tomorrow? without us?!” Luke asks, his hand coming up to his chest in mock offense.

“you guys are going golfing tomorrow, without us! it’s only fair.” i laugh and Alex chuckles.

“y/n/n, you don’t even like golf. you said it’s boring and called it ‘watered down hockey’.” Alex points out as i burrow back into Jack’s side.

“shh, i’m watching the movie.” i shush him, making the boys laugh. Jack turns back to his phone and i watch through one peeked open eye as he double taps on his teammate’s most recent instagram post before typing out some nonsense comment that i’ll never understand.

pulling back, i lock my eyes on the remote on the coffee table. sliding forward some, i lean, stretching my fingertips out to try and grab it. finally getting ahold of it, i go to lean back, wobbling forward and accepting my fate. i brace myself to fall before feeling a hand grab onto the back of my shirt. yanking me back, Jack pulls me back into his side, his eyes still glued to his phone. i heave out a small relieved sigh as i press a kiss to his chest before turning the volume up on the tv.

i glance around the living room to the other boys, gauging how interested they are in the movie, but Luke and Quinn are exchanging a look. Luke biting back a smile as Quinn smirks.

what did i miss this time?

with the boys friends all finally arriving, the lake house has become much too crowded to hang out inside. so instead we’re all outside, gathered around a fire that was once blazing but now dwindling. my boyfriend jokes around with Cole and Trevor, Luke speaking with his University of Michigan teammates, Ethan and Dylan, and lastly Quinn sits sipping a beer as he chats with Alex and the Tkachuk’s.

making myself scarce in order to not cling to my boyfriends side as he tries to enjoy himself, i text with my own friends from back in New Jersey as i balance on the edge of the brick fire pit, circling it as i type.

“be careful, babe.” Jack warns me, and i grin and throw him a thumbs up. he barely gives me a second glance before Trevor takes up his attention, reciting a story of something that happened to he and his friend Jamie back in California.

i continue pacing around on the elevated bricks, typing a long winded message to Leah, explaining why she shouldn’t call her ex. as i pass by my boyfriend once more, i’m not paying as close attention as i probably should be, my foot getting a little too close to the inner edge as i start to slip.

a hand grips my elbow, pulling me back to a standing position before i can fall into the fire and i look over to see Jack, his attention still on Trevor and his hand wrapped around my arm as he nods his head at his friend while he continues ranting. i give a light pat to Jack’s shoulder to let him know i’m fine and he releases his grip.

slipping my phone into my pocket, i continue my journey around the fire pit again, this time with more of my focus going into keeping upright. passing Luke, i see him looking away from his friends, and i follow his line of sight to his brother, Quinn looking right back at him. both wear an entertained appearance and i look around to see if i can find what they’re smiling about but come up empty-handed.

why do i keep missing these things?

with today being one of the hottest days of the summer, we’re all crowded on the boat. most of the group lounges around conversing with one another, Luke currently taking his turn wakesurfing as music blares from Quinn’s bluetooth speaker.

i’m sat in Jack’s lap, rubbing my third layer of sunscreen on my legs and the tops of my feet.

“babe, i think you’ve got enough.” Jack laughs, his hands grip my waist to keep me from falling as i’m leaned forward.

“i just wanna make sure. the UV index is super high today and you know how easily i burn.” i tell him, sitting back upright as i flip the cap of the sunscreen closed once more.

“i know, sugar. but we’ve only been out here for two hours and that’s your third time applying it. i think you’re okay for a while.” he takes the lotion from my hands, handing the bottle over to Cole. “put that in the bag next to you, eh?”

Cole nods, placing the sunscreen into the waterproof zip up bag i brought on the boat.

“y/n/n! c’mere!” Luke shouts, making me untangle myself from Jack. i rise to my feet, shuffling over to the back of the boat and leaning over to get closer in order to hear him better.

“you gonna let her get that close to the edge, Rowdy?” Quinn questions, making the boys laugh.

“what?” Jack asks. “what do you mean?”

“she’s a bit clumsy, is she not? we’ve noticed you all summer, keeping her from hurting herself.” Quinn replies through chuckles. even Alex, who drives the boat barks out a laugh.

“wait, when did i do that?” Jack wonders.

“all the time! you weren’t even paying attention when you did it!” Luke shouts and i stick my tongue out at him before turning to observe the boys.

“there was the first time Luke and i noticed it, when you wrapped your hand over the counter to make sure she didn’t hit her head. and you were right to do so because she bumped it right on your hand.” Quinn explains.

“or when she was reaching off the couch to grab the remote and you caught her by her shirt to keep her from falling. and you didn’t even look up from your phone as you did it!” Luke says as he climbs back on the boat.

“or how about when she was balancing on the fire pit and you caught her by the arm to keep her from falling straight into the fire. while you kept all your attention on Trevor. didn’t even look, you just reached a hand out and grabbed her.” Quinn provides another example. “i can go on.”

“i didn’t even realize i was doing all that.” Jack shrugs, glancing towards me. “i guess it’s just unconscious reaction. i’ve gotten used to it by now.”

“i’m not clumsy.” i pout, crossing my arms over my chest.

“it’s okay, it’s not necessarily a bad thing!” Trevor attempts to comfort me. i give him a side-eye, making my way over to Jack. but before i can sit in his lap, i slip. Jack’s arms wrap around my waist to keep me from dropping to the floor, pulling me down onto his thighs instead.

“you are pretty clumsy, babe.” one of Jack’s arms stays planted across my waist, holding me to him as his index finger pushes my chin up so i’m looking up at him. “but, it’s adorable.”

i bury my face in his chest out of embarrassment. i didn’t think i was clumsy. i mean, i know i’ve always been a bit accident prone; broken glasses, falling a bit more than my friends. but i didn’t think i was clumsy.

“it’s nothing to be ashamed of, y/n.” Quinn tells me. Jack’s hand trails up and down my back as he whispers reassurances in my ear.

“yeah, we didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything.” Luke pipes up once more, his voice seeping with regret.

“that’s why you kept looking at each other all the time.” my words are muffled by Jack’s chest, but by the way that Jack coos as he places a kiss on the top of my head, i know they heard them. “you were laughing at me.”

“we weren’t. i swear we weren’t.” Quinn’s voice is closer now, and i feel another hand touch my back. “we were laughing with you. we just thought it was funny that Jack didn’t even notice when he was doing it.”

“honest?” i question.

“honest. i promise.” my head rises at Luke’s voice, closer now as well. his hand comes up to rest on my knee and i look over to see him squatted down beside Jack and i, Quinn sitting next to us.

“i didn’t realize i was clumsy.” i confess. “i just thought it was normal.”

“i gotta say, you’re definitely the first girlfriend i’ve ever had to pull away from falling into an actual fire.” Jack chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “but i wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“really?”

“really. i love you. clumsiness and all.” he tells me. his grip gets tighter around me and i crane my neck to crash my lips into his.

“ugh, gross!” Trevor exclaims. Jack pulls back, leaning his forehead against mine.

“shut up, Z.” he grins, pulling me into one more kiss. “now, you ready to learn how to wakesurf?”

“yeah, no. even before i knew i was considered clumsy, i knew i wasn’t going out there. i’ll fall straight on my face, Jacky. i mean seriously, i’m a clutz!”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #faithlynn’s writings <3

3K notes · View notes

cartierre · 9 months

Text

SINCE WAY BACK | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!black!producer!reader (fc: alexis carrington)

side note: drake is aged up in this because i want y/n to be born around 2000/2001 but that would mean drake was 14/15 when he became a dad... so he's just a few years older here to make it more believable okay? great. side note pt2: there are so many long twitter threads used to explain the whole backstory. like, really really long. i didn't know how else to explain everything, i'm sorry.

♡ liked by champagnepapi, mclaren, octobersveryown and 829,938 others

tagged: mclaren, octobersveryown

f1 BREAKING: October's Very Own (OVO) joins the McLaren team as their new primary sponsor for the 2023 season.

#F1 #Formula1 #McLaren

view all 5,328 comments

user1 what the fuck is drake doing here

user2 i'm actually so gagged like what is happening why is drake invested in f1 all of a sudden

user3 this is such an odd pairing? drake and zak brown together feels like a fever dream

user4 drake joining f1 as a sponsor was definitely not on my 2023 bingo card

user5 caitlyn jenner buying a whole w series team is less surprising than whatever this is

♡ liked by yourusername, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 187,385 others

lando.jpg adonis is teaching me how to play basketball because otherwise he "cannot accept me" i've been humbled by a 5 year old

view all 483 comments

user6 is that the girl he might or might not be dating ⤷ user7 i need to know otherwise i might die (i won't but the suspense is killing me)

user8 WHO IS THAT GIRL LANDO

user9 is this you trying to soft launch or is she just a platonic friend?

user10 "fans" going insane because they can't handle the thought of lando having female friends as well

user11 he's not even tagging anyone omg now i have to scroll through all the people he follows. lando is not making my job easy

(private account)

♡ liked by centralcee, jorjasmith_, landonorris and 637 others

y/n_graham why am i trending on twitter and why is everyone uncovering my childhood

view all 45 comments

landonorris i think this is my fault ⤷ y/n_graham you and your jpg ⤷ landonorris my camera lense is just so mesmerised by your beauty ⤷ y/n_graham your compliments won't get you out of trouble

centralcee i'm literally getting dms asking about you ⤷ y/n_graham i woke up to 15,000 people trying to follow me

jorjasmith_ lando's fans are literally fbi agents ⤷ y/n_graham i'm making so many backup files of my music projects because i'm scared someone will hack into my laptop now

♡ liked by 238,273 others

f1wags Y/N Graham, daughter of Canadian rapper Drake, was photographed by a fan outside the venue in Greece where Lando Norris, her rumoured boyfriend, was playing this weekend. None of the two have confirmed nor deniend the relationship allegations that have been going around for a few months now. An inside source, which attended the party, revealed how the two behaved very intimate with each other.

view all 5,394 comments

user12 girl it's been nearly four months since the rumours started... can one of them just please either confirm or deny them?

user13 at this point i'm just over the whole drama. let them have their privacy i guess

user14 this drama is juicier than when the whole oscar-alpine-mclaren fiasco happened

user15 i'm this close to ripping my hair out why is this rumour been going on for AGES i just want a simple statement already

♡ liked by y/n_graham, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 374,947 others

tagged: y/n_graham, champagnepapi

lando.jpg bonding family time, got to support the father in law ;)

view all 9,294 comments

user16 EXCUSE ME WDYM FATHER IN LAW? is this a joke or real ⤷ y/n_graham we're not married, don't worry ⤷ user17 OMG Y/N MADE HER ACCOUNT PUBLIC JUST NOW

champagnepapi i like the sound of "father in law" ⤷ lando.jpeg i know you would ⤷ y/n_graham no no no

user18 okay from what i've gathered drake and lando are on good terms ⤷ user19 bet that's why drake sponsored mclaren lmao ⤷ y/n_graham no but deadass

user20 y/n fighting for her life in the comments lmaoooo ⤷ y/n_graham in the trenches

2K notes · View notes

promptfairy · 2 months

Text

❥ 𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒 [ 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 ] .

designed for ships, but can be used for a variety of relationship types. change gendered language/add context to your needs. happy roleplaying !! ♡

❛ it feels so good to be bad. ❜ ❛ it really makes me wonder if i ever gave a fuck about you. ❜ ❛ give me something to believe in. ❜ ❛ i don’t believe in you anymore. ❜ ❛ i wonder if it even makes a difference to try. ❜ ❛ so, this is goodbye. ❜ ❛ one day i’ll wake up & it won’t hurt anymore. ❜ ❛ it’s like i can’t even feel after the way you touched me. ❜ ❛ you’re everything that i want, but you don’t want me. ❜ ❛ am i a regret, yet? ❜ ❛ was it worth what it costed? ❜ ❛ you make me nauseous. ❜ ❛ you’re overrated. ❜ ❛ when i think of you, i just want to throw up. ❜ ❛ all my friends say that you’re toxic. ❜ ❛ why does love suck? ❜ ❛ love hurts whether it’s right or wrong. ❜ ❛ i can’t stop, i’m having too much fun. ❜ ❛ you can’t save me, baby. ❜ ❛ you never call or listen to me anyway. ❜ ❛ where were you tuesday, october tenth? ❜ ❛ how is your jacket covered in blood? ❜ ❛ how was the party? did you have fun? ❜ ❛ i fell in love with the warning signs. ❜ ❛ the only time i feel alive is when i’m touching the warning signs. ❜ ❛ if you tell me to stay away, i’m gonna dive in again. ❜ ❛ my favorite color is red like the flags you fly overhead. ❜ ❛ well, i should have known. ❜ ❛ didn’t you see it coming? didn’t you see the signs? ❜ ❛ i’ll break your pretty face. ❜ ❛ bite your tongue & choke yourself to sleep. ❜ ❛ you can hold my hand if no one’s home. ❜ ❛ do you like it when i’m away? ❜ ❛ you’re a pond & i’m an ocean. ❜ ❛ all my emotions feel like explosions when you are around. ❜ ❛ i am a wreck when i’m without you. ❜ ❛ was it something i said to make you feel like you’re a burden? ❜ ❛ tell me, is it worth it? ❜ ❛ she’s a lady & i am just a line without a hook. ❜ ❛ do what you want as long as you stay here. ❜ ❛ you’ll change your name or change your mind & leave this fucked up place behind, but i’ll know. ❜ ❛ if you ever try to leave me, i’ll find you, [name]. ❜ ❛ i’ll be the bad guy, now. ❜ ❛ i couldn’t be there, even when i tried. ❜ ❛ seasons changed & our love went cold. ❜ ❛ i knew that this was doomed from the get-go. ❜ ❛ you thought that it was special, but it was just the sex, though. ❜ ❛ it’s only me; what have you got to lose? ❜ ❛ you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk & made fun of the way you talk. ❜ ❛ you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. ❜ ❛ you’re so cool, it makes me hate you so much. ❜ ❛ you’ve ruined my life by not being mine. ❜ ❛ you’re so gorgeous, i can’t say anything to your face. ’cause look at your face. ❜ ❛ i’m so furious at you for making me feel this way. ❜ ❛ if you’ve got a girlfriend, i’m jealous of her. but if you’re single, that’s honestly worse. ❜ ❛ you’re so gorgeous, it actually hurts. ❜ ❛ you make me so happy, it turns back to sad. ❜ ❛ there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have. ❜ ❛ guess i’ll just stumble on home to my cats. alone … unless you wanna come along? ❜ ❛ you look so happy when i’m not with you. ❜ ❛ i don’t know why i run away. ❜ ❛ take me back, ’cause i wanna stay. ❜ ❛ i kept my distance ’cause i know that you don’t like when i’m with somebody else. ❜ ❛ i couldn’t help it; i put you through hell. ❜ ❛ i realize that it’s much too late, & you deserve someone better. ❜ ❛ i’m not the best at breaking up. ❜ ❛ i like my alone time, but i want somebody to hold. ❜ ❛ i get what i want. i keep it for a minute. then i let it go. ❜ ❛ i hate it when you’re there for me, but i like it when you hit the spot. ❜ ❛ i don’t do fake love, but i’ll take some from you tonight. ❜ ❛ i don’t expect you to understand. ❜ ❛ i’m ready to die holding your hand. ❜ ❛ i can’t hide how i feel about you inside. ❜ ❛ i’d give everything up tonight, if i could just have you be mine. ❜ ❛ i’d give up everything for you. ❜

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp starters #rp meme #rp prompts #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay prompts #small text is no longer a thing on this blog bc tumblr makes it impossible to format long lists like this with the stupid #character limit rule so enjoy this normal sized text <3

439 notes · View notes

tsimvkas · 11 days

Text

come back home — mason mount

A/N: really sad to hear about the new injury so maybe this can distract u guys a bit. im ngl, this one is pretty personal to me so please take care of it. tbh this is a special fic for mi amore elisa, and i hope it matches her expectations. this story wouldn’t exist without you bestie 🫶🏻

word count: 8.5k | masterlist

content: reader has mommy issues, dad!mason, angsty and fluffy end

When your mum called, you didn’t think twice.

She asked you to spend a week with her, and you accepted straight away, incapable of believing that your brother left her alone without warning you.

To be fair, you know you’re not on speaking terms with him, but it's your mother. How could he let her alone?

When you told Mason, you could see the insecurity on his face. Since you gave birth to your baby boy, you had never ever left the house without him, and leaving Manchester to go back to your mum’s in London was a big thing, but eventually he sighed and nodded.

“Just make sure you call me everyday” he kissed your forehead before kissing Leo. Just a week, you told him. In a week you would be back to your husband.

You met Mason at the Champions League final im the 20/21 season, and you like to say it was love at first sigh, the way your relationship instantly clicked is still surprising. You dated for a year before he asked you to be his wife, and you thinks you would’ve said yes another million times.

You’ve been together through the good enough season of 21/22, and all the shit of 22/23. You got pregnant in the middle of his last season for Chelsea, and Luke was born already in Manchester, in October.

Since Mason’s injury in November he’s been able to participate more, spending lots of time with his son as he doesn’t need to go to away games, and you know that this week away will make both of them sad.

You tried to tell yourself that since Mason is back at the regular training and ready to be back on the pitch, they would spend less time together anyway. It didn’t make the decision any easier.

When you packed for a week and got into the car, your husband helped to put Luke in the baby seat before kissing you lovely.

“Call me every night. Don’t let her be alone with Luke, please? And come back soon” he whispered against your lips, stroking your chin. “I love you”

“I love you” you kissed him, before reluctantly driving away from your husband.

Sundays are usually already sad and gray, but Mason is sure his just hit another level of depression.

—

It was already night when you got to your mum’s house, not talking much to her before settling on Matt’s old room and texting Mason.

You instantly found out that it would be a difficult week: it was the first time you were away from Mason since you gave birth, and the first time Luke had to sleep away from daddy.

The thing is that he couldn’t. You couldn’t put your baby to sleep, not even if your life depended on it. Luke kept loudly crying, tossing and squirming in your arms.

You tried your best to calm him, thinking it could have something bothering him like his current clothes or the weather difference, but not even breastfeeding calmed him down.

Mason tried to help you every time he FaceTimed you, and it was when Luke seemed to feel better but never lasted long.

You were feeling exhausted the whole week, but that didn’t stop your mother from asking you everything she could, like you were still fifteen years old with the responsibility of helping her to clean a house isn’t yours anymore.

Plus, she seemed incredibly bothered about Luke and the fact he wasn’t feeling well, dropping comments about him. You tried your best to ignore, because you know your mother isn’t the easiest person to live with, and since you were leaving soon you didn’t want to fight.

Wednesday night you were missing Mason like crazy, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped with him under the covers, and your heart twisted when his face showed up on your screen.

“Hi baby” Mason murmured, already tucked in bed and making your heart ache with the need of being there and snuggling with him.

“Hi Mase. How are you?”

“Training was fine, and I’m getting closer to come back” he smiled, and you instantly matched his expression.

“I can’t wait to watch you again, love”

You think that is adorable how Mason’s cheeks still got red when you show him affection.

“And how’s your week going?”

“It could’ve been better if I was with you. I miss you” you sighed. “But the week is almost over and I’ll be home soon”

“Good” he yawned, getting more comfortable. . “Show me my little man”

Luke was still wide awake and paying attention to what you were saying, and you showed Mason to him.

“Hi buddy, you’re being a good boy, yeah? Be good to mumma, please. I miss you”

When Luke babbled to him, Mason giggled before wishing you a good night and telling you he loved you.

—

When Saturday came your mother talked to you, saying Matt had some problem and he wouldn’t be back for another week, begging you to stay a little while. The hardest part was telling Mason about it.

“She needs me to stay for one more week, Masey” you murmured, feeling guilty. When Mason didn’t answer you tried again. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be home next Sunday”

“It’s okay. I was just hoping you’d be here for Liverpool’s game tomorrow, I think I’ll be subbed on. But it’s okay, you can travel to Brentford's game with Luke” he assured you. “I wish I could go see you during the international break, but they want me to stay in rehab”

“I’m really sorry baby, I tried to contact my brother but he’s being petty” you sighed.

“I understand, princess. I just miss you” he told you gently. “How’s my buddy going?”

“He’s good, he’s just so irritated lately, I think it’s his tooth” you sighed again, feeling tired. “He misses you”

“Poor bubba” Mason pouted, making you smile. “Give him a kiss yeah?”

“Sure” you smiled. “We’ll be back at the end of the week. I love you”

When the week unfolded, you weren’t sure about your decision anymore.

You choose to stay with your mother for one more week over living your husband’s comeback, and in gratitude she spent this time talking bad things about you.

It started with innocent comments. How she would never buy the clothes you were wearing. How you were raising a clingy kid by never letting him sleep alone. How you should breastfeed him less or your boobs would get flaccid.

You tried to shrug it off, like you did when you were younger. You used to believe that your mother was always right and that she was always the mature one, but you’re not so sure anymore.

During the second week you kept calling Mason every night, sharing about your day and showing him to Luke, who would try to grab the phone and put dads on his month. When, without a question if you could or wanted, the second week turned into a third, you could feel Mason losing his patience.

“It’s okay, you can still go to Brentford’s game this Saturday” he repeated, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead. “You can bring Luke, Brentford is friendly. How is he doing?”

“He had a fever but he’s fine now” you showed Luke sleeping next to you, his face a little red.

“Let me know if something changes” Mason asked you, and his concerned look just proved you chose the right dad for your son.

You nodded to his image on the small screen, his adorable face almost hidden by the sheets, the bed looking incredibly big.

“Can we sleep on call?” you asked, missing him so much it was physically hurting you. Mason’s face softened and he nodded.

Some people might think that you could just go back home. If you really miss him you would do it, right?

But you know Mason understands your relationship with your mother, how you feel you owe her everything. She raised you, gave you everything you needed.

She was rough sometimes, yes. And there were days you didn’t feel loved at all, but she was still your mum, even when she couldn’t tell you she was proud, even when she couldn’t hug you during storms.

Even when she couldn’t believe you would be someone successful one day.

So you kept there, living your days boringly, washing the dishes and the clothes, playing with Luke, cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner. For her, so she would be happy and proud.

And you were losing your mind.

—

When Brentford's game came, you weren’t able to go. You apologised to him the day before, spending hours on the phone, and even though you could see the sad look in his eyes Mason was still comprehensive.

“She needs me to accompany her to the exam” you told him, and Mason himself could see you weren’t funny about your current situation; you just weren’t brave enough to hurt your mother the way she hurts you and leave.

You were able to watch the game when you came back from your mother’s exam and it wasn’t a surprise to you when Mason changed the whole game by being subbed on.

Luke was already sleeping, so you tried your best not to scream when your husband scored, tearing up to see he dedicated the goal to you by pointing to his ring finger.

You were able to talk with him only for a few minutes before he desperately needed to sleep, whispering that you was proud of him and the way his voice cracked when he told you he loved you made your heart hurt.

Following the week, you weren’t able to talk much with him. Only quick calls at night before he dozed off still holding his phone, feeling much more tired now that he’s back at attending games even though he doesn’t play the full match.

Your Wednesday started with Luke’s little sobs waking you up, and you were sure he wasn’t feeling well again. After breastfeeding and showering with him, you managed to get you both changed and ready to start the day.

When you got downstairs your mother was already in the kitchen, and you could hear her complaining that you were late.

“For what?” you surprised her, and despite being early in the morning she seemed grumpy already.

“For breakfast, what more could it be? I had to cook it myself” she snorted, and you took a deep breath before

“If you’re capable of it, I don’t see what’s wrong” you shrugged.

The truth is that you’re starting to wonder what he hell you’re doing there and why Matt hasn’t come back. What should be a week turned into a month and you was living her life instead of yours.

When you sat at the table for breakfast, after managing to cook your own meal with Luke in one of your arms, you had to take a deep breath as soon as she started to talk.

You’ve heard in silence when she talked about you and Luke, but never makes you more furious like when your mother decides to talk about Mason.

“He could spend more time in the gym” she told you, suddenly. “Your husband”

You were only capable of frowning at her, not understanding why she would brought this out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?”

“He could train more. Maybe some more muscles would make him prettier and better at football” she shrugged, making you laugh in disbelief.

“He’s already pretty and good at football”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I feel like he’s not the right man to you, and I want the best to my little girl”

Mason is the most caring and gentle man you’ve ever known, and you knew you couldn’t sit there and hear her talking shit about him day after day.

“Mum, you can’t be serious. He’s my husband. Not only this, but he’s Luke’s father. Don’t talk about him like that”

“Are you sure he doesn’t cheat on you?” she innocently asked, making you choke on your coffee.

“Mum!” you gasped, not believing what she was saying.

Luke’s eyes widened and you tried to recompose yourself so he wouldn’t cry out of fear

“I mean, he could have anyone… everyone. A skinny and tanned woman, with pretty features…”

There it was. The reason why you grew up so insecure, something that would annoy lots of men — but not Mason. Not your boy, who would reassure you every time and make you really believe that you’re pretty and loved.

Her words still stung though, but you shrugged them off.

“Mason loves me” was everything you told her before leaving the table with Luke.

You went out for a walk with your baby, trying to make the day pass faster and see if he’d feel better after some fresh air. When it started to get dark, you came back home and gave Luke a shower, laying in bed with him.

Later that night Mason called you like he always does, and you were happy to see his name shining on your screen.

“Hi baby” you whispered, but to your surprise he didn’t greet you back.

“How’s Luke?” Mason murmured, and you could sense the tiredness and loneliness in his voice. “Don’t you think you should bring him back home so we can get him to our doctor?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to do. But I can’t leave my mum alone and Matt won’t answer the phone-”

But Mason had enough, and suddenly he lost his patience.

“And why, exactly, can’t you leave her alone, Y/N? Enlighten me, please. From what I can remember, she can do everything perfectly. She’s not sick, she’s not weak. She’s just using you”

Mason never liked your mother, much due to how she treats you, and you understand. It just hurts that you have so many good things to talk about his mother whilst yours is always giving him reasons to hate her.

“Mason… she’s my mother. Can we not talk about her like that?” you murmured, but you know he’s right.

On the other side, Mason did his best to not scream at you, something he swore he would never, even if it’s out of frustration.

“She’s your mother, yeah. And I’m your fucking husband. I know you never chose to have a narcissist as your mother, but you chose to marry me and I thought I would have an important spot in your life. I know family comes first but I thought that someday you’d start to prioritize the family you made”

You could feel how tired he was. How he needed you to understand his point.

“I’m trying, Mase” was the only thing you were capable of whispering.

“You say you are but you keep choosing her. You keep going when she calls even though you know she’s only going to hurt you. You keep choosing your mother over your husband and I don’t know if I can do this anymore”

“Mason…” your heart dropped. “Don’t say that”

“Do you have any idea of how much I miss my son? How much I’ve been missing my wife? It’s been a month, Y/N. And I feel like you’re not thinking about my feelings, at all”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, it was supposed to be just a week” you tried to defend yourself. “I don’t know what’s going on or why Matt isn’t back yet. It has been hard for me too, yeah? I miss you so much and I’m sorry”

“Well I think you should set your priorities” he murmured before turning the call off on your face.

You instantly felt the tears forming. He hasn’t said it was over, but it was obviously a warning that it wasn’t over just yet.

With a sick Luke in one of your arms, you started to clean the room you had been staying in. Cleaning always helps you, and you let your cry reach out to you during the process, feeling overwhelmed and tired.

You wanted your home and your husband, but as a daughter you feel like you need to take care of your mother. Like you’re supposed to give her everything she’s been giving you your whole life.

After tidying the room you went downstairs to prepare the dinner, and whilst you mixed the sauce something snapped. What were you doing there?

You should be cooking for Mason, so he would have a proper meal after his nap. Luke should be sitting in his baby chair whilst you were humming happy songs. Not there, where your mother can cook her own dinner and clean her own house.

It wasn’t your fault that she couldn’t understand that you have your own family now.

When you set the table for dinner your mother wasn't home yet, and you ate with Luke’s little screams, trying to smile at him. She finally arrived an hour later, and whilst she entered the house you decided that you had enough.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning” you told her whilst she closed the door. “Mason will face Chelsea and I need to be there. And Luke is sick, so I’m heading back home after the game to take him to his doctor in Manchester”

“What are you talking about? He looks fine”

“I’m his mother. I know when he’s not doing well” you snapped at her. “And don’t come to me saying you don’t wanna be alone. You’re not alone, are you? Because I spent the day here to be with you whilst you’re walking around the city or going to your friend’s house” you tried not to snap. “And getting drunk every Saturday even tho I tell you how much I hate it. We’re leaving tomorrow, whether you like it or not”

Not leaving her time to answer, you went upstairs to sleep a bit. When Luke finally slept you debated whether or not you should send a message to Mason letting him know you would go back home after the game.

Deciding not to disturb him any more and imagining that he was still upset with you, you laid with your son and tried to sleep, but the shooting thoughts wouldn’t let you.

What if Mason had enough? What if he doesn’t want you anymore, what if you are too late?

—

When you woke up, you took Luke in your arms and started to pack. Since you were supposed to stay only for a week you didn’t have much to organise, and soon you were ready to go.

Your plans were to drive to Stamford Bridge and see Mason after the game before heading to Manchester whilst he came back home with the team.

But as soon as you checked beneath the pillow and under the bed, you realised your phone wasn’t anywhere.

Taking Luke downstairs and looking everywhere you could, you tried to ask your mother.

“Have you seen my phone? It’s not where it should be”

“You should take care of your stuff, Y/N. I thought I taught you that your things are your responsibility” she told you with a flat look and you stared at her for a few seconds, in disbelief.

After hours of searching for it, you gave up. There was only an hour left before the game and since you only started to drive recently the idea of driving around without following the GPS terrified you, so you had to make a choice.

Plus, you were tired from searching for it and all you wanted was to eat something and watch the game with Luke.

Deciding to bath with your baby and cook dinner, you sat on the couch to see the game, your stomach churning with the need to be there.

A few minutes into the first half, your mother looked at you from up the stairs.

“I thought you were going back home today?” she teased you, making you frown.

You chose not to answer, paying attention to the game instead. When Mason was finally subbed on you pointed at him, bouncing Luke in your thigh.

“Look at dada, Luke. We’ll see dada soon”

“Dada” he babbled, making you gasp.

“Yeah, dada. It’s your dada” you poked his waist, the teas already forming. Luke couldn’t stop calling for dada once he said it for the first time, and he kept repeating it until the game was over.

You were incredibly sad by the result, knowing you should be at home when Mason gets there so you could hold him and scratch his scalp after his warm bath.

Deciding to sleep early, you waited for your mother to go to her bedroom and carefully brought your bags downstairs before laying with Luke and forcing yourself to sleep, determined to leave the next morning — even if you had to drive like the old ones, asking for instructions and following the signs.

On the other hand, Mason was desperate. He knew from the moment he turned the call off that he needed to apologise for how he talked to you.

But he was angry, stressed and frustrated. He wanted you there, supporting him. Cuddling him after his tiring games, listening to him when he needs to. He wants you there talking about your day, warming the bed, bringing Luke to him after a shower so you can change into your pyjamas.

He wants his family and he can’t cope with the fact they’re not with him.

Mason can’t believe you and Luke weren’t there watching his first goal, and scoring felt bittersweet. He wanted nothing more than to share this moment with you.

Since he met you, Mason knows how hard your mother is. Narcissist, dramatic, always trying to make you feel sorry for hurting her — when you were only setting boundaries.

And he also knows how hard had been for you, not finding the courage to break the circle and move on from her. But in all this time he never had to deal with this, you and his son so far away from him because of a woman who doesn’t even respect her own children.

When he went to bed a few hours after the call, Mason started to worry and he knows you were mad when you didn’t text him before bed, but at the same time he wanted to apologise for the way he talked he still meant everything he said, so he took a deep breath and choose to wait until the next day so he could talk to you properly.

His heart hurt knowing he was going to bed without telling you he loves you, something none of you ever did, but Mason was sure you’d figure it out after the game since you promised you would go, so he did his best to sleep and rest.

—

He looked everywhere. He asked everyone.

You just weren’t there.

When the game ended, Mason just wanted to bring you and his son and tell you he needed you home when he got there. He needed someone he could cry to, someone he could tell how overwhelming being back felt.

All he wanted was to survive the bus drive with all his teammates feeling sorry — for the loss and for him. And then lay in your arms so you could reassure him he’s doing well and that he makes you proud, whilst Luke’s little fingers tried to make him bald.

But they told him you weren’t in the United box and soon he found out you never entered the stadium Mason’s heart twisted.

First he felt a shameful feeling of anger. Why the fuck couldn’t you do this little thing for him? Relationships are supposed to be about making sacrifices and he watched you put yourself first for an entire month, always being understanding. The only thing he expected in return was for you to be there.

And you couldn’t? You say love him so much, but still couldn’t be there?

Then, when he finally showered and changed into some trainers before heading to the bus, Mason was able to check his phone just to see you hadn’t answered his pre-game messages, and quickly his anger turned into worry.

He called you five times, but every call went to voicemail. Mason pondered if you were ignoring him — or if something bad had happened.

Knowing you for four years, he doesn’t think you would give up on your relationship like that. But the way he hung up on you the night before, and how he accused you of not caring about him… he just can’t help but overthink.

With his heart pounding, Mason opened his Instagram app and searched for the only person who could help him, whilst he was forced to come back to Manchester when all he wanted to do was come to you.

—

The sound of the doorbell ringing woke you up, and you checked the hours just to see it was just past 2am. Luke instantly started to cry, and you took him in your arms before rushing downstairs and opening the door to the person you never thought you would see there.

“What are you doing here?” you frowned to your brother.

“Mason called me. Where’s that freak you call your mother?” he said harshly. “Why don’t you answer your phone? Your husband is losing his mind. He thinks something bad happened”

“I’ve been looking for my phone since yesterday morning, I don’t know, it’s vanished” you explained, following him. “Matt! What’s happening?”

“She’s been lying to you, Y/N. She’s probably hiding your phone right now. These are yours?” he pointed to the things you’ve packed, and you nodded. “I was never meant to come back. I told her I was leaving, cause I was tired of the manipulation. I was tired of her telling me my girlfriend doesn’t deserve me or telling me I owe everything I am to her. I owe her nothing”

You could feel the lump already forming in your throat, and you wanted nothing more than to call Mason. Matt silently put your bags in the front door, and soon his girlfriend got out of the car to take them.

“I realised something was wrong” you told him. “And Luke has been feeling sick so I packed, but then the morning I told her I’d go to the game and then head back home I couldn’t find my phone anymore. What Mason told you?”

“Not gonna lie to you, he’s feeling awful. I think he’s been crying, too. He told me you were supposed to go to the game tonight?” he asked, and you nodded, your heart dropping. “He said he tried to call you before and when you ignored him he thought you were still angry, but now that you didn’t show up at Stamford he thinks you either were kidnapped or decided to leave him. There’s only these bags?”

“Yeah” you quickly nodded. “She asked me to spend just a week”

“Compulsive liar” Matt snorted. “Let’s go, get in the car. I’ll take you to my home and we can go to yours in the morning”

You nodded again, but before you could obey him you mother showed up in the stairs.

“What’s going on here?” your mother’s voice made you jump as you were still two kids doing something she wouldn’t approve of.

“Please, don’t. Just go back to your room, I’m taking Y/N’s home”

“You can’t do that!” she raised her voice, trying to show a mother authority she doesn’t have over him anymore.

“What do you mean I can’t do that, you psycho? Leave us alone. You used me for years, I’m not letting you do the same with her”

“Don’t be stupid, Matthew. All I ever asked you was for you to take care of me like I took care of you your whole life. All I ever expected was you both to love me like I loved my childs” she gestured, and you could feel your heart hurting. She’s your mother and you should be so tough with her…

“Why can’t you understand that we have our own family now?” Matt snorted, his big body trying to hide you from your hysterical mother. “Y/N is a mother. She has a child to take care of, she can’t look after you when you’re capable of looking after yourself”

When you realised Luke was about to cry from all the noise, you started to rock him back and forth, trying to protect his ears.

“I am your family. All those years I left my life in standby to raise you. I gave you two food, a home, a warm bed to sleep” your mother shouted, gesturing.

“And as a mother this was exactly what the world expected from you. You did nothing but your obligations. No one asked you to be a mother, so you can’t point your fingers and act like we should be grateful for the simple things you gave us. The minimal” Matt kept his tone low. “But you lacked the essential. The respect for your kids. The love, acceptance. You only love yourself. Now you say we’re not returning everything you did for us but guess what: this is what you did for us. You reap what you sow. You can not raise a child thinking about what they can bring you in the future”

“Everything I’ve done, everything I say is because I care! But go on, make me the villain, take her thy stupid footballer” she turned to face you. “Go back to him and raise this stupid child. Just don’t come back running to mummy when he changes you for a prettier and hotter girl, leaving you with only his clone to remind you of what you’ve lost!”

It was unconscious, the way you left the safe space Matt had created for you and advanced in her direction. You never believed you were capable until it was done, the echo of your hand meeting her cheek spreading in the silent room.

“Talk about me as much as you want. But do never, ever again talk about my husband or my son. Is not our fucking fault dad couldn’t handle your behaviour anymore, and is not our fucking fault he left you for a prettier and hotter woman” you pointed a finger to her face. “I’m done with you. I’m done with you forever, and if cutting you from my life is what I need to do so I won’t be the wife and mother you were, then I’m doing it right now”

“C’mon, Y/N” Matt put a hand on your shoulder, slowly bringing you closer to him. “Let’s go home”

You checked Luke on your arms afraid your impulsive action had hurt him, whilst Matt took you outside.

“She still has my phone-” you realised before you could enter your car.

“Leave it behind, yeah? Mason can buy you a new one. Look at it as a new beginning” he squeezed your shoulders, and it felt like having a brother again.

In that moment you understood that this was what had happened to him, too. That this was the reason he never replied to you anymore.

When Matt left his mother’s house in an attempt to be free, he had to leave everything behind, including you.

You think you won’t ever really understand what it cost him to come back there, but he did it.

He could never leave his little sister behind.

—

You took Luke out from the baby seat before following Alice inside. She came back driving Matt’s car whilst he drove yours, so you hadn’t had the chance to talk to her.

Once inside, Matt put you in the biggest guest room of his house, trying his best to make you comfortable. You used the sheets and the pillows to make a fort around Luke, and went downstairs to talk to your brother after so long.

After making you all tea, Alice sat besides him and you genuinely smiled seeing how they clearly completed each other.

You started by explaining to them what she told you in the first place, and how she was trying to keep you there for more and more days every time another week ended. When you told about your fight with Mason, Matt was quick to reassure you that he knows Mase will understand you, but you were still feeling reckless and seeing your husband was the only thing you wanted.

“I tried to contact you” Matt told you shyly. “It’s been months since I left her house, maybe six?”

“Around Luke’s birth” you whispered.

“But I left my phone too. It was a choice I had to make. Since you don’t have an Instagram, I tried Mason’s but-”

“He’s too famous to see your message” you giggled.

“I think he unfollowed me when he thought we weren’t on speaking terms- when you thought we weren’t. He’s a good one, you know?”

“He is” you smiled, thinking about your boy.

“I’ll get the car ready for the trip” he murmured, suddenly looking awkward.

As soon as he left, Alice saw you were still processing your feelings and came to sit near you. After a few seconds in silence, she started to talk.

“You don’t have to love her just because she’s your mother” she told you, holding your hand. “Mothers aren’t saints, Y/N. It’s okay to dislike our mothers when they act bad, when they hurt you. It’s okay to even hate a mother that does no good to her kids”

“But she’s my blood” you told her the same you’ve always told your brother, but as a woman your age Alice understands your feelings and is delicate to answer you.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Do you see Debbie? Matt told me about her, and how much she cares about you. She’s your blood? No. But she’s been treating you better than your blood has” she ran hiii her fingers through your hair. “I know it’s hard to make this decision, but a mother that hurts and lies, a mother that tries to get in the middle of your marriage isn’t a good mother. Just think if you’d ever do to Luke any of the stuff she did to you”

When you looked up your brother was by the door, and you know he’s the only one who actually shares this controversial feeling with you.

“I wanna go home” you sniffed. “To Mason”

“We’ll take you there” Matt assured you, stretching his arms out to you. “But give me a hug first”

“I’m so sorry she got between us” you murmured after hugging him, resting your face on his shoulder.

“Me too. But see? We’re free now, princess. Your big brother is here”

—

When he opened the door for you early in the morning, Mason’s heart dropped. With Matt and his girlfriend waiting in the car, he was sure you were there to pick your stuff and leave.

“Mase?” you called him nervously, since he wouldn’t move or make any indication of hugging you.

“Are you leaving? I- I didn’t mean it you know, I didn’t mean to be rude with you I was just so tired and angry and I came home after training and you weren’t here and I got so pissed off” his voice was shaky and he didn’t stop talking to breath. “And then I thought we could solve things after the game but you weren’t at the game and I tried to call you so many times and I swear I wanted to go there and talk to you but the gaffer told me I was supposed to come back with the team”

You quickly entered the house so your brother wouldn’t be worried. The last thing you needed was him and Alice wanting to stay — you needed to talk with Mason alone, your family needed this time together.

You circled his waist with one arm, the other holding Luke between you two, and waited for him to hug your shoulders. When Mason calmed down you pulled away just so you could look at him.

“What’s going on?” you asked him, a hand going straight to his cheek. “Are you having panic attacks again?”

Mason shook his head, calmer now that you were inside the house and Matt’s car was gone. Luke stretched out his tiny arms to Mason and you instantly passed him to your husband.

“I thought- I saw Matt’s car parked and I thought you were here to take your stuff” he shyly admitted, his cheeks blushing.

“Oh baby, I would never leave you” you ran your fingers through his hair and your heart tightened when he hugged Luke like his life depended on this.

A lonely tear went down his cheek and you brushed it.

“We’re not going anywhere big boy, you can relax. I think you’re close to suffocating him” you giggled, your heart hurting at how tight he was holding Luke.

“Am I?” Mason’s eyes widened as he pulled his son away, to be sure he wasn’t hurting him.

“Sorry, I was just kidding” you laid your head on your husband’s shoulder. “We missed you so much. I’m so sorry, Mase”

When Luke laid his head on daddy’s other shoulder, your eyes watered.

Since you gave him birth, since he grew inside you even, you could never understand how someone could hurt their own child. You would die and kill for him, and you know Mason feels the same way.

Being a mother like yours turned out to be your biggest fear since you saw the first positive test. Now, each day he grows more you’re sure you could never.

You could never treat him like his opinions and wishes aren’t valid. You could never tell him he can’t simply answer you his point of view no matter what, even when you’re wrong. You could never put yourself first when your son depends on you.

“Believe me, I missed you more. The bed was always cold, every night, and the house is so quiet without Luke, the food doesn’t taste the same, there’s not a single drawing in the bathroom wall and everything looks so lifeless” his voice cracked, and you looked at him to see uncountable tears spilling down his face. “Ever again. You’re not leaving my side ever again”

You nodded, trying to reassure him and ease the panic you could see in his eyes. Hugging his waist, you peppered kisses to his jaw, feeling the salty water on your lips.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby. I swear”

Mason’s sobs caught Luke’s attention, and he looked at his dad with the prettiest face you’ve ever seen, full of confusion.

Your words weren’t enough to stop Mason’s breakdown once he was feeling safe to show you how much the last month affected him and his body started to shake, so you guided him to the couch and sat with your back against the arm so he could lay between your legs.

With Luke sitting on one of your legs and Mason’s head resting on the other, you let your husband cry.

“It’s ok, Mase” you scratched his scalp, trying to soothe him. Your heart physically hurt when he clinged to you, hugging your waist tighter. “I’m here now”

“Sorry” he whispered when you started to brush his tears.

“Don’t feel sorry for being hurt, Masey. You can cry to me whenever you need to, I’m here to protect you too”

“You, protecting me?” he giggled, and you smiled at the sound of it. He got up from your lap and gave you a shy smile, stretching his hands out for Luke who immediately tried to go to him.

“Yeah, it’s your turn to be taken care of” you shrugged, giving your baby boy to him.

“Oh so you’ll take care of me?” Mason gave you a smirk and you rolled your eyes playfully before remembering what you wanted to show him the most.

“Daddy is being a naughty boy, Luke. Tell him to be better, uh? Tell dad to behave”

“Da” Luke babbled, and Mason pinched his chubby cheeks.

“One month alone with mum and you already forgot that I’m your partner in crime?”

“Da-dada” he kept going, and you wish you could get Mason’s reaction tattooed, the way he confused eyes looked at you.

“What the fu-“

“Don’t curse” you giggled, covering his mouth, but Mason could hear the sad tone on your voice. “He said if for the first time last night, we were watching the game and I told him we would see dada soon. He can’t stop anymore I guess”

Mason kissed Luke’s cheek, laughing between sobs when he squirmed, giving little screams.

“You have training today?” you whispered, afraid of ruining the moment but Mason shook his head.

“I’ll call the gaffer to explain” he brushed his fingers through Luke’s face.

“I’ll run his bath then” you told your husband before kissing his head and quickly going upstairs, trying to give them some time alone.

In reality, you feel so bad for separating father and son for an entire month. Seeing Mason’s cry made it hit you how bad your actions hurt him, even intentionally.

Imagining how you would feel if it was the opposite, your heart physically hurt with guilt, how hard this month apart was for Mason and you could feel a few hot tears spilling down your face. Now, you can only hope he won’t hold any grudge against you, despite what you did.

Less than ten minutes later, Mason was entering your shared room and walking straight to the en-suite so he could find you.

“Babe? You can’t leave your boys alone, we don’t know how to take care of ourse- ei, what’s wrong?” he cupped your cheek, and just the warmth of his hand was enough to make you feel better.

“Nothing” you shook your head, drying your face with the back of your hand. “Can you take off his clothes?”

“We’ll talk about it once he’s sleeping” Mason kissed your forehead, squeezing your waist. You nodded, letting him go and undress Luke whilst you chose some toys for your son.

You put the toys in the bath, checking again to be sure the water wasn’t too hot and turning around to Mason.

“Can you bathe him?” you asked him and he instantly nodded, holding your waist before you could leave.

“Go bath in the guest bathroom if you need some time alone, yeah?” he caressed your chin, and your heart pounded even more with how gentle he could be with you even though you hurt him.

Since he seems to know you more than you know yourself, you obeyed. Taking what you’d need, you headed to the guest bathroom and took a warm shower.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to let it all go when Mason and Luke weren't around, but you couldn’t. There was just a whole in your chest, but no tears.

After washing your hair in an attempt to feel freshened and lightened, you wrapped yourself in your robe and came back to your room. Mason wasn’t there, so you imagine he was at Luke’s room putting him to sleep, and not wanting to get in the middle of their father and son time you changed in your pyjamas and tucked in bed.

Half an hour ater you still weren’t able to close your eyes, staring the wall. You’ve heard when your husband entered the room and changed from his trainers, wanting to lay down with you.

“You can go to training if you’re not too late, Mase” you told him softly, not wanting him to get in trouble.

“No way” was his only groaned response, and you sighed when Mason cuddled you seconds later, his arm circling your waist.

Your eyes instantly teared up.

“Go on” Mason kissed your shoulder. “You don’t need to hold it, it’s just us”

“I can’t believe she did this” you tried to tell him without crying, but with every little kiss on your shoulder you could feel the breakdown coming. “Lying would’ve been bad enough but hiding my phone? Not caring that Luke was feeling sick- oh we need to take him to Dr. Linn”

“I’ll take care of it. Keep going” he encouraged you, and you couldn’t understand how he was the one left behind for a month but still so worried about you.

“I don’t know why she wanted me there. The entire month, every day she had something bad to say about me or you, or even Luke. Always leaving to see her friends or get drunk, so in the end I was alone most of the time. She hates me and my family, but she still wanted to keep me around for some reason” your eyes were burning at this point, and Mason’s soft skin against yours made you feel safe enough to finally let the tears spill. “I’m so sorry you had to live an entire month without him”

His hug tightened a bit when you sobbed.

“It’s not your fault. And I lived an entire month without you too, you know? You were missed just as badly”

“It is my fault, Mason. You said it yourself, I chose her over my family and I’m really sorry about it. I want you to spend more time with him, make up for lost time”

Mason pulled away just enough so he could helo turn your body to face his, his hand going straight to cup your chin.

“Y/N, what’s that? I don’t wanna spend hours alone with Luke, even though I love him more than anything. I wanna make up for lost time with my family, not only with half of it. I was angry that night, yeah? I was tired and missing you and I was so pissed you weren’t here when I got back home, I just snapped”

“You had every right to” you murmured, his thumbs never stopping with caressing your face.

“And then the next morning you weren’t answering my calls and when the time came you weren’t at the game like you said you would and I was so scared you had given up on us. So during the night I couldn’t sleep and I realised… I know you, I know you wouldn’t deprive me of my son even though you didn’t want to talk to me yourself, so I panicked. I’m sorry I called Matt, he was my only option”

“Matt and I were good” you smiled at him, and the way his eyebrows raised made you giggle. “I could never give up on us, silly. You’re my everything. Not going to bed with you every night, not making your breakfast every morning… it was the worst month of my life”

“That’s why I gotta give you my attention too, babe. You’re my girl, and Luke knows how to share, you know? He’s not selfish”

“Well, I don’t think I deserve your attention. Look what you had to go through for an entire month” you groaned, but Mason just sighed before placing his forehead against yours.

“You were manipulated, by someone you love a lot. You were worried and wanted nothing more than to help her, and I understand that staying away from me was a consequence of what you needed to do in your head, even tho in reality you didn’t have to do anything. I don’t really like your mum but I love mine, and I know the feeling of being able to do anything for her” he held you tighter. “You don’t need to feel guilty about it”

“Mason, you can’t pretend it’s alright. I lost the most important game of the season. I lost your fucking goal. I should’ve been there to support you and then I should’ve been here to comfort you” you chocked, the guilty feeling eating you alive.

“Babe-”

“It’s not ok! And I’d feel better if you just admit it, let me apologise and forgive me” you tried to breath and calm down. “You lost the first time he called for you and it’s my fault”

“We’ll, I’m listening now. And he can’t stop, isn't it adorable? The tiny human we made. With so much love” he kissed your forehead. “I missed you so much I think I feel like making another one any time”

“Mason!” you gasped, feeling your cheeks getting warm.

“What? The day we made Luke was so hot. A mess, but incredibly hot” he closed his eyes, licking his lips and you had to look away with flaming cheeks. You know exactly the day you got pregnant since it happened in a month you and Mason only got to sleep together once. Mason laid on his back and helped you lay half of your body on top of his. “Fine, baby. Let me hear your apologies”

“I’m really sorry for missing your first goal. You have no idea how awful I feel, because I should be there to celebrate it with you, to scream loud with the fans, to show how proud I was. And I’m sorry I lost the most important game for you. I hope you know I would never do that on purpose, and we wanted to be there for you. But I watched on TV and I’m so proud of you. You did so well with the time you had, and I’m sorry about the general result. You were so pretty though”

“Was I?”

“I’m starting to understand the hair now” you giggled. “It filled my tummy with butterflies”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna make another baby? Because you’re sounding like you do” he teased. “You’re forgiven, princess. And I don’t wanna you beating yourself about it, yeah? I already told you, I understand what happened and how stuck you were. It’s your family, after all”

“No” you shook your head, clinging even more against him. “You are my family. You and Luke”

“And the babygirl we’re gonna make soon?”

“Stop” you groaned, burying your face in his bare chest. “I want another one too”

“Really?” he pouted, and you could never say no to him.

“We could try your girl or start the Mason Mount FC” you hummed, content when he kissed you.

“Perfect” he murmured, lips brushing yours softly. You stared into his eyes, smiling when he raised his eyebrows. “Wanna start trying now? Cause I honestly missed you so much-”

“Shut up” you giggled, relaxing in his embrace. Brushing your nose against his neck, you inhaled the after shave smell and focused on how soft his neck is.

After a few minutes appreciating his warmth, you allowed yourself to sleep deeply, finally in your home. Where you are loved for who you are, not for what you can offer. Where you are wanted and your presence is valid. Where you feel safe.

Not your perfect three store white house, no. Your home. Mason Mount.

#✧･ﾟ: *✧ tsimvkas — works #mason mount x you #mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #mason mount x reader #mason mount fics

396 notes · View notes