soo-hyuki

[soo-hyuki]

Pasta à la Cliff

cliff booth x curvy!reader

genre: fluff + angst

summary: after a horrid day at work, you are engulfed in a sea of insecurites and start a new diet. but fret not: cliff knows exactly what you need - a heart to heart and his infamous pasta à la cliff.

warnings: language, body dismorphia/body image issues, insecurities, toxic hollywood beauty standards, mentions of eating disorders and diet pills, mean girls & idiot producers, horny flirting, and of course sweet sweet fluff

words: 2.95k

a/n: i kinda escalated on this. planned on making this just a short, sweet exchange with cliff, but dived into some dark feelings for a second. (writing these aweful things about reader was painful but i felt it reflected insecurities honestly. if you feel uncomfortable with ANY of the topics mentions above, please do NOT read. anyways: thanks for reading. hope you enjoy and remember: you are beautiful JUST the way you are, dear angel reader ♡

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Today was just one of those days.

Nothing felt right. Nothing fit right. Nothing looked right. You hated feeling this way but you couldn’t help it. You lived in LA for god’s sake, land of anorexic models and plastic surgery.

It didn’t help that you worked in the movie industry. Working in Hollywood seems like a dream come true at first but after some time it can really take a toll on you if you’re not careful. Everyday you are surrounded by the prettiest of girls and the most handsomest of guys. Not comparing yourself to others at some point was impossible.

You see and hear things in that environment. Things that shatter your naive reality quickly. The newest diet trends, how an actress didn’t fit into her old costume anymore and some retching in the bathroom here and there. Girls were actively trying to tear other girls down. Or worse: hiding their insults as backhanded compliments or “tough love”. All to feel better about themselves. And then there were always producers and executives who felt entitled to making disgusting comments on women in their field and hell, women in general. Those mysogynistic bastards with their bald heads and beer bellies judging women on their looks...the irony.

Most days you didn’t let it bother you. But today was different.

Angrily you sqeezed a lemon with your bare hands, imagining it was her neck. You didn’t care if any pips fell into the cup as well. A drop of the sour juice flew directly into your eye. Shit. It hurt like hell. You quickly wiped it away with a damp cloth. Could this day get any worse?

You remember the devilish looks on their faces, their mocking laughter. And you felt sick to your stomach.

Some coworkers from your newest project decided to humiliate you today. It started out with passing comments on your body, which you ignored like a pro. This wasn't your first rodeo after all. They must have noticed how it seemingly didn’t affect you and turned it up a noch by touching you without permission. Like your body was an object. To do with as they pleased. Touching your breasts, slapping your ass, grabbing your love handles, poking your stomach, -

The screaming noise of the kettle pulled you out of your head, back into reality. Absentmindedly, you slowly poured the boiling water into the lemon juice filled cup. Enjoying the sensation of the citrusy steam on your face. Calming you down for a second.

As if their harrassing touches were not bad enough, the leader of this mean girl clique continued to abuse you verbally as well: “How in the world did an ugly bitch like you get a man? Don’t worry, I’lll be sure to bring some diet pills for you tomorrow, Miss Piggy.”

And that’s how you ended up making yourself some hot lemon water. It was the newest diet tip in the industry at the moment: 1 meal a day and hot lemon water for the rest of it. The sour taste was supposed to distract from cravings and boost your metabolism. Who knows if it really worked. But you were feeling desperate, your self esteem at an all time low. You would try everything and anything to change the way you looked and felt and drinking sour tea sounded better than starving or pushing fingers down your throat.

Oh, how you wish, you could have slapped a good comeback line into her face. Even now, a good comeback escaped you. Well, a real slap in her face would have been satisfying as well. You smile inwardly at the thought. But the smile quickly disappears as her words echoed in your head again.

“Miss Piggy”

That bitch. It made you so angry and frustrated. But partly because you knew she was right.

Compared to them you looked huge and deformed. Feeling like a whale in a fish tank.

And then you thought of Cliff. Your biyfriend was so hot. SO. Hot. You don’t any clue yourself how you got a man like that. How could he want to be with someone like you? Just as the thought entered your mind, you decided to push it away. Positive reframing of bad thoughts was supposed to help, right? You read it in some self help book lying around a waiting room somewhere.

Cliff loves you. You know he does. He tells you that all the time.

But a small voice inside your head was screaming at you, telling you to stop being so fucking naive. To hide from him and leave before he realizes what an ugly monster you are.

Just as your anxiety started to spiral, you heard rustling keys unlock the door of the trailer. Still standing in the small kitchen corner, your body turns around, your back facing the door. You didn’t want him to see you. To look at your hideousness. Wishing to be invisible.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You hear keys being thrown onto the table and his boots clanking on the trailer floor.

“Hey.”

You don’t turn around. Concentrating on the warmth of the beverage in your hands in order to distract yourself from crying.

“Where is my hello kiss?”

Okay. You can do this. Confidence.

You take a deep breath and walk over to the handsome man, your eyes fixed on the floor until you stand right in front of him. Your gate has noticably less pep than usual, so unlike your cheerful self. Cliff looked at you questionably, a brow raised.

You give him a very quick kiss to the cheek, rushed and impersonal, before walking back into the kitchen area. Cliff was left more confused than before.

“Okay, spit it out. What did I do wrong this time?” He said as he sighed deeply, his full focus on you.

You didn't reply. You couldn't. No words were coming out of your mouth as if you had lost your voice.

“Did I forget to take out the trash again?”

You shake your head. Body turned away from him, staring into your lemon tea.

“Did you want me to pick up something from the store?”, he inquires scratching his head.

Your head shakes no again.

Damn, what the fuck could it be. You are so sleeping on the couch today, dude, Cliff thought to himself.

Finally he says: “Look. If this is about Rick's birthday party. I told you, I didn't know he would hire those strippers -”

“No. It's not��You didn't do anything wrong.” You’re perfect, you think to yourself.

Finally words managed to free themselves from your mouth. But now, you wished you had stayed mute because they were filled with sadness as you couldn't hold your tears anymore.

Cliff is taken aback slightly. His body language softens and he turns you around gently so that he can look into your eyes.

“Hey…hey, what's the matter, sweetheart?”

He holds your face in his big rough hands now, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead.

That sweet display of affection only makes it worse and you cry even harder.

Before you can make sense of the whole situation you are in a tight embrace. In his arms you can let go completely. All pent-up emotions crashing upon you. Everything those girls said and did to you.

Cliff lets you cry. Holding you tightly, thumbs drawing calming shapes onto your back. His sturdy frame eventually stabilizes you and pulls you out of the emotional storm.

“You okay, honey?” he asks with concern in his voice.

“Yeah. Thanks. I just…I had a really bad day.” You say chuckling a little. Your old self reappearing slowly.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Cliff has a firm grip on your shoulders now, trying to make direct eye contact as if to catch any kind of facial expression that could alert him.

“No, I'm good. Really. Work was just…work and I needed a good cry, I guess.”

You try to play it down. As if you hadn't hust had a full-on breakdown. You can tell that Cliff isn't buying it but he doesn't want to push you. Scared you will break down again.

“I know what will cheer you up.”

Your eyes look at him expectantly, your sniffling nose is slightly red. You looked adorable, Cliff thought to himself.

He rumbles through the kitchen to grab a pot. After finding one he triumphantly smiles and says:

“Pasta à la Cliff.”

Your pupils dialate and panic sets in.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Was that nonchalant enough? You hope he let’s the topic go. Explaining it to him sounded like a nightmare come true.

“Why? It's your favourite.”

He halts his movements and studies your face.

“I’m not hungry. That’s all”, you say, taking a sip of your tea.

Okay. Cliff is on high alert now. This does not sound like you at all.

“Where is my girlfriend and what the fuck did you do to her?”, he asks jokingly, trying to conceal his worry under a blanket of humour.

“I’m fine, babe. Just trying something new”, you reply, lifting your cup as if to toast to him.

What the fuck? Now he had proof that the woman in fromt of him was not his girlfriend. Saying no to his infamous pasta and drinking lemon tea?

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. A look on his face that screamed: “I will wait all day until you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. He was not letting this go and you knew it. There was no escaping this situation and you didn't want to be a pussy.

“Okay, look. I’m trying a new diet, so I have to skip dinner. And I would really appreciate it if you respected my decision.”

There. You said it. The cat was out of the bag and you were ready to drop the conversation. Forever.

Cliff’s eyes were still fixated on you, a different emotion hiding behind his expression you couldn’t place. You wish you could read his mind because this silence was making you even more nervous than the exchange before.

Finally, Cliff openend his mouth and said: “I respect you.” Then he turned around, lit a cigarette and continued to pour some water into the pot.

That’s it? That’s all he had to say? You scoffed internally, a bit of anger rising up your throat. A part of you wished he had protested and told you: "No, you don’t need to diet. I love you no matter what you look like."

So you continued: “All the girls at work talk about it. Apparently I will drop 5 pounds a week. I’ve been meaning to lose about 20, so this would be perfect. And I think it might really boost my career.”

Now he scoffed. You looked at him, a glint of fear in your eyes in expectancy of his reaction.

“Are you crazy? Every pound on you is exactly where it should be.”

You gulp, shocked at the words that left his mouth.

“And boost your career, my ass. Tell them to go suck on a cock”, he said before taking a drag of his cigarette.

He was right. You were convinced they wouldn’t be satisfied until each and every women was a size 0 with the perfect face and even then they would find something to take apart: Her legs are too skinny, her armpits are too dark or god forbid - the worst of them all - she has cellulite.

He exhales the smoke in a deep breath and continues with a severity you hardly see in him: “Look, I want to respect your decision. But I want you to know that I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. Every curve, every dimple, every pore. It’s perfect. You are perfect. And it breaks my heart that you can’t see that.”

Touched by his honest reaction, you want to return the honesty: “Cliff, I…I don’t know. I just feel so insecure sometimes.” You’re cheeks were red with embarrassment at this point.

That statement earned a hearty laugh from the man in front of you.

“Sweetheart, you think I don’t feel insecure sometimes?”

What? Cliff, the greek god amongst stuntmen…felt insecure?

“You do?” you ask hesitantly, your voice filled by disbelief.

“Fuck yeah. All the time. You think I don’t have insecurities? I am a middle-aged stuntman, who is only one project away from being a has-been. I see new guys come into work every day. Stronger, fitter, more eager, younger joints, better looking.”

You chuckle and say: “No guy is better looking than you.”

“That, sweetheart, might be true.” He winks at you, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The action fills you with a tingling sensation in your stomach.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I feel like that sometimes”, Cliff adds with a slightly more serious tone in his voice again.

You were so engrossed in the conversation, you hadn’t noticed Cliff put any pasta into the pot until he poored the boiling water away. The freshly cooked smell of wheat filled your nose, bringing back happy memories of dinner dates in Cliff’s trailer.

“Cliff, I had no idea.” You were at a loss for words, your brain in full overload as you try to process this new information.

“Red or green?” he asks, the topic of your diet officially off the table.

“Red”, you say, your mind in completely different places and he quickly grabs the secret sauce - or Cliff-sauce as he called it - and pours it over the pasta. He takes some already grated cheese and sprinkles it over the pile of noodles.

“Dinner is served, my lady.”

You give him a small smile before both of you head to the black couch, a plate in each of your hands. A fork already in his mouth, Cliff tugs at his jeans before plopping down like a cowboy. Once he has settled he locks his eyes on you, waiting to see your reaction to the food he cooked.

“Dig in.” And you do. It tastes heavenly. It’s not a michelin star meal but Cliff made it, so it tastes like home. However you still eat more hesitantly than usual and Cliff notices.

“What? You don’t like your pasta à la Cliff?”

Your fork prods the sea of noodles. If your mom was here, she would have scolded you for playing with your food.

“No, they taste great.” You weren't lying. They really do. But you can’t help feeling a little weird about eating after a day like today.

“Then why the long face?”, he asks.

Without wasting a single second you burst out the thought that has been weighing on you ever since that “Miss Piggy” comment by that bitch: “Cliff, do you think I’m attractive?”.

“Do I think you are attractive? Sweetheart, you are the hottest woman in LA. Your curves will drive a man crazy. Don’t you see those guys staring at your ass when you walk past? Makes my want to knock their teeth out but fuck, I can’t blame them. Your body brings shame to anyone else claiming to be a woman. ”

Feeling flustered, your cheeks have been tinted by a natural rouge now. The tears from the conversation before have already dried but still, fighting the voices in your head, you open your mouth again: “But I don’t look like these models or -”

“That’s it. We’re going out tonight.”

He puts his plate down and stands up. You are in such a state of shock you have trouble finding any words.

“W-what?”

“You heard me”, he says as he readjusts his belt which had moved from the seated position.

“But I’m not dressed, I’m just in my comfy clothes.” You tug on your pyjama pants as if to demonstrate that you were in no state to go outside right now.

“Then get dressed.” Okay. There was definitely no room for argument.

The look of shock hasn’t left your face. You sit frozen on the leather couch.

Cliff’s voice pulls you out of your trance: “Hey, look at me. You’re my girl. And I want the whole world to know.”

By now, he was kneeling in front of you, his handsome face was right before your eyes. His facial expression was filled with tenderness and love. You swore, you fell in love with him all over again. And his words resonated within you: You were his girl and he was your man. And nothing else mattered right now.

Fuck it, you think to yourself. Let’s go and dance the night away.

Excitedly, you fall forward, hugging his strong upper body tightly, and soon both of your lips are locked into a passionate kiss. Pulling away, you bite your lip, feeling like your heart was jumping out of your chest.

“There she is.”

You chuckle in response, arching your back a little as you laugh.

Cliff speaks up again, this time in a low voice, nearly whispering: “Go. Get your pretty ass dressed and let’s get out of here.”

Giving him an innocent kiss, you make your way across the trailer to find an outfit. Cliff’s eyes never leaving your ass. He really was a lucky guy, he thought to himself.

Rummaging through your clothing, you can’t help but hum your little happy song and imagine what tonight would be like. Going to the theatre, dancing until sunrise or maybe some cocktails with funny names? Honestly, you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that it was you and Cliff. And that made everything else unimportant.

[soo-hyuki]

California Heat

cliff booth x reader

genre: smut

summary: stuck in traffic in the blazing heat of california. with cliff next to you, cooling down seems near impossible. but you get an idea on how to pass the time and finally - give into the heat.

warnings: nsfw, language, pet names, implied age gap, body worship, finger sucking, oral (male receiving), swallowing

words: 1484

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Cliff liked listening to the radio whenever he was driving, mostly music but he would occasionally switch to the news channel. It was the hottest day of the year according to the newscaster. You weren’t surprised. Sitting in your tube top and denim shorts, your skin glistened in the sun. A mix of cocoa butter and sweat.

You tried to follow the newscaster's voice but he was talking so quickly and you were quite distracted. Could anyone blame you? Cliff was looking ravishing. Maybe it was the result of heat radiating through the metal of the cadillac but damn, you felt hot. Even though the windows were rolled down and fresh air streamed inside, it could not be described as anything other than scorching.

You could see a faint layer of sweat on his skin as well. He was wearing his infamous yellow hawaiian shirt, his chest exposed just enough to make your mouth water but not enough to be considered indecent in public. A drop of sweat had collected at his brow, threatening to roll off his temple, slowly, teasingly.

You tried to look out the opened window, to take in the view, concentrate on anything else but Cliff’s hands pulled you back into heat like a vortex. He was driving with one hand on the wheel, his other arm propped on the window sill. His veins popped out deliciously. Just like they do when he fingers you into oblivion. You just wanted to lick up and down his arms and -

“You good, sweetheart?” Shit. Cliff had noticed your staring and uneasy energy, his lips curled up into a slight smirk. “I’m fine, just…a little hot.” You shuffled restlessly in your seat, eventually sticking your arm outside the window in the hopes of catching a cooling breeze.

He chuckled, knowing exactly what type of heat you were experiencing. It wasn’t the first time you had spaced out looking at him while he was driving. Usually that meant you would jump at him the moment you both arrived home and closed the door to his trailer. But this time something felt…different. More desparate.

“How long until we arrive home?” you ask, clenching your thighs together, secretly hoping he notices. “About 20 minutes. If we’re lucky. The way this line moves we might be stuck for a while.” He replies while looking at the long line of cars in front of you. You pause internally and contemplate on what to do. You need him. So bad. Right. Now. What if-

Your breath hitches and you turn your body towards him, staring at him seductively. His head turns to you, displaying a raised brow. The drop of sweat has now finally started its descent down his handsome face. His expression is a mix of confusion and daring you to go on.

“You want me to suck your cock?”

Silence. For a short moment you regret asking but the thought quickly fades as he chuckles, turning his head away from you. Was he blushing? He turned towards you again, this time studying your face. After breathing in and out deeply, he says:

”Knock yourself out, sweetheart.”

Grinning from ear to ear he shifts his hips forward, making himself more comfortable for the upcoming event. You smile and bite your lip enticingly. Your gaze shifts from his beautiful eyes down to his chest. Your hand slowly makes its way underneath his hawaiian shirt, across his pecs, playing a little with his silver blond hair.

His ribcage moves up and down slighlty more intensely than usual. Satisfied your fingers head down his biceps. Ellbow. Forearm. Eventually reaching the steady hand he has on the wheel. He loosens his grip slightly upon your touch and you gently tug on his fingers. He gets the hint and replaces his steering arm with the other, letting you take his hand. You lead it to your mouth slowly but surely.

You take his index finger in your mouth, keeping eye contact with the rugged man sitting next to you. He can’t help but smile at you, excitement for whats to come coursing through his veins.

The air is thick. Humid. Tension high. By now you are sucking on two fingers like an ice lollipop. Holding onto his muscular forearm, you feel every callous in your mouth. A sign of Cliff’s dedication to his craft. Stunt work requires blood sweat and tears, a real commitment physically and mentally. The thought stirs something deep inside you and you decide to spend some extra love on each callous with your tounge.

Cliff keeps his eyes on the road, looking as cool as ever, as your tounge licks down the protruding veins on his forearm.

“I know you think I’m smoking hot, but you said you wanted to suck my dick, not my fingers.”

Your lips part from his skin and you let out a mischievous smile. Your panty is completely soaked already from all the work you have been doing on his muscular upper body.

“Patience. I am just getting started” you said, biting your lip while caressing his thighs. Both your hands move over his jeans, deliberately avoiding the area he wanted touched the most. His already hard thighs were even more tense than usual.

“Sweetheart, I'm too old to get teased like that.” He bucks his hips upwards exhaling slowly, a bit of impatience escaping his chill facade. You try to hide a succesful smile and move your hands towards his belt. One trained motion and the buckle was open.

It was hard to say who was more excited: you or him.

His cock springs free once you pull it out of his boxers. Veiny, girthy, perfect. A little drop of white had already collected at his reddened tip from the teasingly long wait.

Keeping your eyes locked onto his, you dive down and with one lick of your tongue the white drop disappears in your mounth. You can hear the squeaking sound of leather as Cliff tightens his grip on the wheel.

You take him into your mouth, bobbing up and down, taking him deeper inch by inch. With every bob you can feel his body relax and melt into the seat of the car. If he didn't have to keep his eyes on the road he would have closed them to revel in the sensation.

Spit drips down his shaft, making wet sounds with the guiding motions of your hands. The sounds were competing with the newscaster on the radio.

One hand still on the wheel, Cliff's other hand reaches down to support your head. He looks down endearingly at you. A look you don't see, too busy sucking his cock like it was your last day on earth.

You change your rhythm now and then, alternating between slow and fast. Sucking, licking, kissing. Using your lips to their fullest capabilities.

Honestly, you have no idea how long you've been down there, neither does Cliff. All you can think about is making him feel good and enjoying every bit of the process.

You have to moan when you take him as deep as you possibly can. The vibrations making your eyes turn to the back of your head.

“Shit.” Cliff says.

“I won't last much longer, sweetheart”.

You just hum in response, his shaft never leaving your mouth. You start twisting your hands, rotating them into opposite directions.

Cliff grunts, his body tensing up. His hips thrust upwards, making you moan in return. You continue your rhythm despite his slowly collapsing facade. He starts pushing your head down, firmly but not forcefully. And you anticipate what is coming next.

With an strained grunt and a tight grip on your hair, he spills into your mouth. You still your movements, looking at his face, with his mouth slightly open.

Once his raggard breathing has calmed down and you swallowed all of him, you find your lips locked onto his. Who initiated the kiss is hard to determine.

His tounge makes a distinct swipe in your mouth, with the mission to taste himself and make sure that everything has been swallowed.

Parting your lips, you lean back and pull your knees to your chest. A triumphant smile on your face.

“And? You cooled down a little?” Cliff asks visibly more relaxed than before. His hair slightly tousled. You loved this. The effect you have on him.

You shake your head. “Not even a little bit.”

He has to laugh at that and switches the radio to another channel. Music fills the car and you look out the window, daydreaming about the things he will do to cool you down once you arrive home.

A/N: This was my first ever fic and I am a little nervous putting it out there, so please be kind :) Thanks for reading. I hope you have a lovely day, angels ♡

[soo-hyuki]

[soo-hyuki]

today I present to you a man who has always been serving and STILL SERVES TO THIS DAY.

JENSEN FINE ASS MF ACKLES.

[soo-hyuki]

Soldier Boy seems like the man that as soon as he sees his partner with a drill in hand and pieces of furniture in the ground he'll intervene.

"Ah ah ah," He shouts like, catching a dog chewing something.

He will put his hands on their hips and pull them away like they're a naughty child and takes the drill from their hands.

"I'll do it!" And starts working on assembling the furniture. All the while mumbling under his breath that he's the man of the house and he's the one who should be doing this.

Not knowing that they're looking at him with triumph smirk. Everything went according to plan!

[soo-hyuki]

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy in The Boys S3E6

[soo-hyuki]

why does staying up late doing nothing feel like the equivalent of having control over my life

[soo-hyuki]

[soo-hyuki]

[soo-hyuki]

[soo-hyuki]

Lyra, my beloved cat of 13 years, passed away this year on Father's Day. She's been by my side through very difficult times and was my little rock of steady and unrelenting love. I struggled a lot drawing this, and struggled a lot posting it, but I know I would've wanted to read a comic like this that validated my grief for her when I lost her.

Wherever you are, Lyra my little summer star, I love you always! Thank you for being the best thing in my life.

[soo-hyuki]

A lot of the girls on here really need a huge, huge comforting hug from a man with big arms & it's evident more and more each day

[soo-hyuki]

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 204/327 (part 2)

2.15 Tall Tales Written by John Shiban Directed by Bradford May Original Air Date: February 15, 2007

[soo-hyuki]

OMG OMG OMG

dilf yunho on holiday with his pretty wife 🤭