𓂃 𓈒𓏸 ೃ 𝓲. ʬʬ miss , you. baby ✿𓈒ॱ⬭ᩙ
→﹐ 🪞 ﹒ ( 𝓼ynopsis ) ﹒ your awkward attempts at making conversation with the hot, older, sexy video store owner near your campus land you a one way ticket to a relationship with one van palmer. ⤵︎
and now you get to daydream about her until she comes to pick you up from class. question. will the two of you make it home before you jump her bones? read to find out.
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Beads of sweat formed at the top of your forehead while you tapped your pen against the wooden desk of the auditorium. The sun burned hot outside, making the room a strange mix of moist and the kind of warm-dry that made you wanna bang your head against the wall. You glanced at your phone again— 5PM. Still an hour of class left. But how could you focus on fucking psychology and the stupid Oedipus complex when you knew that in less than an hour you’d be seeing your girlfriend.
Your relationship with Van was still relatively new. You managed to strike up conversation with her after renting the same copy of “But I’m a Cheerleader” over and over again. Were there other ways to get her attention? Probably. But she was yours now and that’s what mattered.
You let your mind wander for the rest of the class— you stopped listening twenty minutes ago anyway. Wander to how her skin feels on yours, the first time she kissed you outside your local gay bar. How she, despite your various protests, always managed to pay the tab when the two of you went out for drinks— going as far as bribing the waiter.
You missed her, you wondered what she was doing right now. Had she left the shop yet to come pick you up? Or, was she using those same fingers of hers you loved so much to organise the various VHS tapes she owned.
The sun burned hot on your skin while you waited for Van’s Jeep to pull up to the side of the building. You glanced sideways and saw one of the girls in your class side eyeing you— but it wasn’t just any girl, it wasn’t just any ordinary classmate taking Psych I, it was the same insufferable blonde that always went to Van’s video store to make eyes at her. It made you sick.
A loud honk snaps you out of your tamper tantrum and you’re met with a Jeep Grand Wagoneer right in front of you, with one smiley redhead inside. Your eyes meet the blonde girls’ ones before you open the door and— without so much as a hello— place a hard kiss on Van’s mouth before shutting the door behind you. A deep, hot pit of jealousy and something akin to pride settling deep inside your gut.
Van chuckled at the unexpectancy of the kiss— but she didn’t pull you away, didn’t even say anything before she started driving away. She only spoke once you were settled on the passenger's seat. Eyes trained on the road ahead.
“So, wanna tell me what that was about?” She teased, a shy smile making its way onto her pale lips.
“What was what?” You ask innocently, you realise that you’ve been caught, embarrassingly so. But you weren’t about to let her win this so damn easily. You still had your pride and some of your dignity.
“The whole kissin’ me like that thing? Hey I’m not complainin’ just curious is all” Van offers. Waving a white flag in all directions, a peace offering, for those with eyes to see.
You bite your lower lip and ponder telling her the truth, telling her that you were jealous— probably irrationally so. But you didn’t want her to be mad at you. Didn’t want her to think you were some possessive freak. But, you also knew a relationship couldn’t be built on lies. So, against your better judgement, you told her about the blonde girl on the steps of your college, the same one that was on Van’s shop the other day, making eyes at her.
Van looked at you for two solid seconds before bursting out laughing, her head hit the head rest behind her while her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, you could tell she was trying her damned hardest to calm down and not crash the car.
But you weren’t laughing, you didn’t think it was funny and she stopped laughing once she realised you were serious about this— or, well, tried to, at least. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it’s not funny. It’s not! Ok, it is… a little bit. I mean— I couldn’t even tell you what her name is and here you are imagining epic Oscar winning romances.” She lets out another dry chuckle. Like it had been stuck in her throat “I’m sorry, I really am.” Van confessed between broken fits of laughter.
“You’re always all smiley at her!” You protest further, losing your credibility in the process.
“Baby, I’m ‘smiley’ as you put it with everyone, that's how business works can’t be all stone faced at the counter otherwise folks won’t come in. Doesn’t mean I’m interested in… whoever that was…”
You don’t respond. And sulk further down the leather seat.
Van sighs, loudly. One of her hands leaves the soft material of the steering wheel and finds its place in the middle of your thigh. “C’mon baby will you lighten up?” Van begged, a hint of exasperation coating her otherwise melodic voice.
Your eyes find hers and your lips curl into a shy smile. You feel a wave of heat coating your face— having a delayed reaction to your own stupidity. Van would never do that. She couldn’t. She’s too soft. Too trusting. Too loving. Like a golden retriever— almost.
You interlock your fingers with hers and rest your hand there, in the middle of your own leg. One. Two. Three seconds before you start guiding her hand over the expanse of your jean covered thigh, until her fingers are grazing the zipper of your trousers.
Van’s eyes leave the road for a second too long in order to look over the expanse of your body. Her face went from concentration to hot, all consuming lust. “You’re gonna make me stop the car aren’t you?” She asks, more to herself than to you.
You don’t respond. And she doesn’t speak further before parking the jeep by the side of the road. Van unlocks your seatbelt in a fast, trained, fluid motion before your legs are placed on each side of her open legs.
The head rest makes a thump noise when your lips collide with hers, a kiss so fervent it could match the millions you’ve seen on screen with her sitting beside you on the couch. Your tongue finds her bottom lip, running over it and poking at her mouth for entrance. Once given, your tongues interlock in a familiar dance of heat, the same dance you’ve been at for months, the one you’d gladly be in for the rest of your life.
“See.” Van starts, her nose running over the skin of your neck, like a sharpie drawing over a rough piece of paper. “Nothing to be jealous of, gorgeous.” She finishes, her lips closing over your pulse point.
You feel your eyes close while she works her magic on your neck. Your hips press further into hers, drawing out whatever friction you can get from the rough material of your trousers hitting your center when the angle is just right.
Van chuckles at your struggle, darkly. More sardonic than usual. “Let me help you out sweetheart.” She whispers close to your ear, before removing both your jeans and your panties in one swift motion.
Your underwear ends up tangled in your trousers somewhere in the back seat while you’re left half straddling Van wearing nothing but your bra and a white tank top. Van hums, a mix of certainty and delight before she palms your sides and makes you sit in one of her thighs and… Wait. When did her jeans come off?
Your wet cunt makes contact with the taught skin of her pale thigh before you’re moving up and down the smooth expand of her skin. Your pussy grows wetter by the minute while your juices spread over her skin. Marking her. Making her yours for all to see— or at least the cars that are on that same road.
“Still jealous, gorgeous?” Van asks, more mocking than pure unbridled curiosity.
You don’t respond, you can’t, too focused on grinding up and down her leg. The sensation is good. Really good and some sick possessive part of you likes marking her with your slick. But it’s not enough and you’re growing frustrated— stuck in a weird place where the stimulation you’re receiving is simply not enough.
Van notices this, she always notices everything. Perfect, attentive, lovable idiot she truly is. Her hands go from your ass to the middle of your waist holding you up so her hand could slip inside you. You go slack on the spot, the tension on your shoulders dissipate while your head tilts back and your lips part in an “O” shape.
Van pumps her fingers inside you, all practiced strokes and smooth movements while she explores your insides with such tender care that it would bring the you from a couple months ago to tears.
Her palm finds your clit, applying pressure to the little bundle of nerves while her middle and index finger pump inside your body.
The dual stimulation makes your orgasm over her fingers in record time, covering another part of her body with your juices. Leaving them sticky and iridescent to the sun that pokes from the glass windows of her car. She removes her fingers from inside of you carefully, before presenting them to you. Waiting for you to clean up your mess.
Your lips find her digits almost immediately. Wrapping around her fingers and sucking off your own arousal like you were born and raised to do it. You swipe your tongue over each crevice of her fingers, not leaving one drop behind. The erotic scene makes your hips start up their grinding motion against her thigh again. Moving on their own accord on top of Van’s naked skin while cars passed by the two of you.
Van looked down at the spot where your cunt met her bare skin, her lips curled into a half smile. “Never satisfied are you?” She asked, with no malice in her voice.
“Shut up.”
Was all you said before resuming your movements atop Van’s naked thigh.
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