#I swear I didn’t do this just to promote

[simpforboys]

Surprise! (3)

Drew Starkey x fem!singer!reader

Summary: reader and Drew celebrate the release of the ‘Perfume’ music video!

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), praise, swearing, male masturbation, dirty talk, missionary position, sex on couch, daddy kink, protective piv sex, boob worship (?), drinking wine, fangirling

Part one, part two, part four

taglist is full :(

Two weeks had went by.

Two long, busy weeks of you not hearing much from Drew, other than the promotions and photo stills you would send him.

It was finally the release day, and within 18 hours, the video had already reached 200 million views.

You were currently sitting on your light grey couch, flicking through Netflix movies when your phone buzzed with a notification.

Drew Starkey: Hey, congrats on the success of the video. I’m still very honored you wanted me to he apart of it. You still down to celebrate?

Oh.

In all honesty you were expecting Drew to stop talking to you after the shoot.

But within those two weeks, you were both extremely busy, so reaching out was hard.

That didn’t mean you two didn’t text at all, it was just two or three messages a day.

Drew was notorious for being a bad texter, not to mention how filled up his schedule was.

So you never took it to heart. Or, at least tried.

But seeing the notification that he actually still wanted to hang out, wanted to celebrate with you…

Your User: hi, thank you so much! i’m still so happy and grateful you said yes <33

Your User: and yes i’m still down to celebrate!! when are you free?

Maybe the double texting was too much, but you were already a glass of wine in, and texting your celebrity crush.

To your surprise, he replied pretty quickly.

Drew Starkey: I’m actually free rn surprisingly, are you?

Oh.

You were in fact free, but ready was the better question.

No, you were not ready to see Drew fucking Starkey, especially looking like how you were currently dressed.

Only wearing sweatpants, a shirt that is three sizes too big, fuzzy socks, and no bra was not exactly presentable to meet the love of your life.

Your User: yes, but i look absolutely horrible rn

Again, another quick response.

Drew Starkey: I doubt that. Can I come see you?

You typed out a message.

Your User: CNEOSHWOSHEODNEOWHSOWBSIFBEOSBAJDBDKDHOSBSKSBDJSHS😜✊👍😜🤭🔥🫶😩

That was what you really wanted to reply with, but instead went for something more nonchalant.

Your User: yeah, you want my address?

It was never good to share your address to anyone online, especially after only meeting in person twice.

But it was Drew Starkey. You would send anything to that man, no questions asked.

Drew Starkey: Yes please

You had spent the last 30 minutes frantically cleaning your apartment. Not that it was a complete mess, but you did want it to be cleaner than what it was.

A soft knock on your door was heard, heart pounding in your chest, hands shaking with nervousness.

Peeking through the peephole, seeing his familiar face was enough to make you almost back out.

Why did you have to be so fucking nervous? He was just a man.

Your fingers unlocked the door, opening it gently.

“Hey, Y/n.” Drew smiled warmly at you, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Hi… come on in.” You grinned back, trying to hide the feeling in your chest.

Drew’s long legs guide him inside the apartment and he takes a second to look around.

It was cozy, and definitely you.

“I got these f’you.” He hums, holding out the flowers.

“Oh, these are my favorite flowers, Drew… you didn’t have to do that.” You awed, taking the bouquet as he practically handed it to you.

He knew they were your favorite flowers. He might have looked up y/n l/n’s favorite flower onto Google. Not that he would ever admit that, though.

“Really? Damn, lucky pick, I guess.” He chuckled, scratching the side of his neck a little sheepishly.

Putting the flowers in a vase, you realized that he was wearing sweats and a hoodie. It was 10:23pm on a Friday, and clearly you two were appreciating a night off.

It made you feel better about your outfit.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink? I have white or red wine, beer, vodka, soda, water…” You trailed off your options.

“What’re you drinking?” He hummed.

You nodded over to the coffee table, an open bottle of wine with a half filled glass on it.

“Wine.”

“I’ll just have some of that, then.” Drew murmurs.

You grabbed another wine glass and walked over to the couch, hearing his feet behind you.

Sitting down on the couch, you got all comfortable underneath the blanket again, then reached over to pour him a glass of wine.

“Cheers, to the success of ‘Perfume’, and to you.” Drew says softly, holding his glass out for you to clink.

Feeling your face grow a bit warm, you tapped your glass with his.

“Cheers to you being amazing.” You took a sip of the wine, your eyes locked onto his blue ones.

“You have a nice apartment, by the way. Forgot to say that.” He hums.

“Thank you, I wanted to make it as cozy as possible for those rare times I am at home.” You explain.

"Yeah, I get that. Life nowadays is just so hectic." He agrees, blue eyes trailing over your face, as if committing each feature to memory.

"Well, yeah. You're all big and famous now," you tease.

He chuckles sheepishly, his large hand running along the back of his head.

"You have any big plans coming up?" He asked you.

"Yeah, actually. I'm supposed to be preforming at the iHeartRadio Jingle Ball festival in a week," you nod.

"Really? Damn. That beats me, then." He joked.

"What do you have coming up?" You questioned.

"Variety is going to have Harris Dickinson and I do that Actors on Actors interview thing."

"Yeah? That sounds fun," you hummed.

The two of you spent an hour and a half talking about life, success, and just got to know each other.

You both finished the bottle of wine and were now onto your second bottle, the two of you tipsy as you giggled on the couch.

Your body felt warm and you weren't completely sure if it was from the alcohol or the fact that a beautiful man was sitting a foot away from you on your own couch.

Drew felt the same, and one specific joke you made had him laughing a little too hard. His eyes creased in the corner as he smiled, those pretty dimples on display.

But when his large hand went to rest on your knee, the wine in your system completely fought off your anxiety, making you more relaxed.

You found yourself leaning into his touch, your hand resting atop of his.

"Your laugh is so cute, Drew," you murmured.

"Yeah? You're cute," he responded.

You bit your lip, eyes locked onto his. "Is that the alcohol talking or you?"

He grinned, shaking his head.

"That's me talking."

Oh.

"You're sweet..." you trailed off, trying to ignore how butterflies filled your belly.

He just hummed, a comfortable, tension-filled silence falling between you two.

"So, you really had a crush on me for four years?" He teased, squeezing your knee a little.

"Oh, god. We're back at this now, huh?" You grumbled in embarrassment, although there was no real malice behind your tone.

He smirked, licking his lips. "We never left it."

"I certainly did."

"Yeah? You don't have a crush on me anymore?" He murmured, the playful tone in his voice making your stomach turn more.

"I didn't say that...." you trailed off, picking at the extra skin near your nails.

His eyes trail over your form again, taking in every inch of you he can see that's not hidden by the blanket on your lap.

"Hm? Sorry, I didn't hear you."

You rolled your eyes, face hot. "I'm sure you didn't."

He laughed, scooting a little closer to you so your legs were touching.

"'m just fucking with you," he said softly.

"I know..." you glanced over at him, eyes instinctively falling down to his pretty lips.

It had been too long since you felt them on you.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the boost of confidence Drew had gotten, but he slowly leaned in, his free hand going to run his index finger and thumb on your chin.

"Is this okay?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah... yes..." you breathed out shakily, heart racing.

He hummed, gently connecting your lips to his own.

Feeling that familiar, addictive spark when his skin touched yours. You immediately kissed back, your left hand going to cup his jaw.

Kissing. You were kissing Drew fucking Starkey. And it wasn't for work, wasn't for cameras. He kissed you first.

Within moments, he was laying you back on the light grey couch, the fluffy blanket being left abandoned on the floor.

His tongue was in your mouth, sculpted body hovering over yours. Your thighs were spread for him to nestle in between, left hand still cupping his strong jaw, right hand in that soft brown hair.

On instinct you pulled a little on the strands, making him grunt into your mouth. He disconnected your lips, trailing sloppy, needy kisses down your jaw and neck.

Chests pressed together, it was as if you two couldn't get any closer.

"Mhmm... Drew..." you whimpered softly when he nipped at the skin of your pulse point.

"Yeah? That feel nice, sweet girl?" He murmured, voice muffled from his attention on your neck.

You nodded, legs squeezing him in between your body.

"Can I take your shirt off, baby?" He asked, not wanting to do anything you weren't desiring.

"Please.." you breathed out, heart racing, stomach flipping.

His large hand slipped the oversized fabric off and over your head, a small whine leaving him when he saw your pretty tits.

"Fuck, Y/n... you been hiding these from me?" He mumbled teasingly, continuing his line of kisses and nibbles down your collarbone, in between the valley of your breasts.

"All you needed to do was ask," you panted. Your back instinctively arched up, your chest needing some attention from his warm mouth.

He groaned at your answer, moving slightly down your body until he was eye level with your hard nipples. He swirled his tongue around the bud, blue eyes locked on your face when he sucked your nipple into his mouth.

Your body jolted a little, making him hold your side with his left hand, his right hand massaging the other stiffened bud.

He switched sides after a few moments, relishing in the sounds of your pretty moans and pants.

But something else was throbbing and aching, desperately needing his attention.

"Drew," you whined.

"Hmm?" He hummed, still worshipping your boobs.

"Need you."

"Yeah?" He cooed, reluctantly disconnecting his mouth from your right nipple as he continued to kiss down your stomach.

You nod, breathing short and needy. He got to the waistband of your sweatpants, looking back up at you.

"You can take those off too." You gave permission, already knowing what the man was going to ask.

He wasted no time in slipping the fabric down your legs, readjusting so his face was in between your spread thighs.

"Look how you ruined these panties, pretty girl... you're so needy f'me, huh?" He murmured softly.

All you could do was whine when he pressed a tender kiss to your clothed clit, the fabric absolutely soaked. It had been way too long since you'd had sex.

His large hand slid the fabric down your thighs, leaving you completely bare for him.

"So beautiful, baby. So beautiful..." he muttered, talking more to himself than you.

Your legs twitched when he flicked his tongue against your clit, hands digging in his hair.

"Drew--"

"I know, baby. Let daddy eat this pretty pussy, yeah? Just sit back and relax."

A needy whimper left your mouth, but you didn't respond. Not that you could, as he licked a stripe from your pulsating hole to the top of your clit.

He hoisted your thighs over his broad shoulders, moaning a little at your taste. His movements became more eager, beginning to lap at your cunt like a starved man.

Right hand in his hair, left hand gripping the couch. Your eyes rolled back, hips bucking up towards his face.

He made a grunt directly into your clit, another jolt of pleasure going into your body.

"Daddy... fuck..."

His piercing blue eyes were feeding off of your facial expressions, his cock throbbing in his own sweats.

He slipped two fingers into your cunt, focusing his mouth on your clit. His left hand slid down his own pants, beginning to palm his cock through his boxers.

"Yeah? Is daddy making you feel good, sweet girl?" He coos, whining a little as his own hips buck on the couch, desperate for more friction.

His noise and hips bucking made your cunt clench around his fingers, as if trying to pull him in deeper.

The knot in your stomach was already forming, almost embarrassing how quickly he turned you into a mess.

Legs trembling over his shoulders, hips rocking against his face and chin. You couldn't even announce you were coming, mind fuzzy from the pleasure.

He hummed when he noticed you releasing, continuing to lap up all your juices as he came in his pants.

When your body calmed down, he pulled away from your pussy and kneeled in between your legs.

He peeled his own hoodie off, revealing that perfect, toned body of his again. Your eyes drank in the sight, licking your lips.

“You’re so hot, Drew…” you murmured.

His ears were ringing, need coursing through his veins as he slipped off his sweats and boxers.

You had to physically hold back a gasp when you saw his cock for the first time.

People had always written it differently in all those guilty pleasure Rafe Cameron fanfics you would read when you couldn’t sleep.

But seeing it in person was just a whole new experience.

It was long and thick, which was to be expected. The man radiated big dick energy.

Pretty mushroom tip that was still leaking, his pubic hair slightly fuzzy as if he hadn’t shaved it in a week.

“Holy shit…”

“Mhm? Better than you imagined?” He asked teasingly, a smirk on his face as he grabbed a condom from his wallet.

You couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes, a small snicker leaving you.

He rolled the condom onto his shaft, moving to hover over you again.

“Are you sure you want this, Y/n?” He asked softly, eyes gazing intently into yours.

“Yes… please fuck me, daddy.”

He let out a small groan, nestling himself in between your thighs. He used a long, strong arm to grab a couch pillow and tuck it under your hips.

You watched as he teasingly slid his head up and down your slit, tapping it against your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Don’t tease me, please,” you beg.

Your pretty begging weakened his resolve as he slowly slid into you.

Whimpers and noises of pleasure left the both of you at the feeling, a course of energy being shared within your two bodies.

He kept pushing until he was all the way inside, giving you a moment to adjust as he captured your lips in his.

Your hands roamed over his biceps and back, loving the way the muscles flex against your palms. His skin was burning, adding to the electric feel.

When he felt you stop tensing around him, he began to slowly pull back, before pushing in, creating a delicious rhythm.

“Fuck… you feel so fuckin’ good, baby.” He moaned.

Your legs tightened around his hips, a noise leaving you as he rubbed right against that spongy spot.

“So deep, Drew… can feel you so deep,” you whined in between breaths.

“Yeah? You take this dick so good, pretty girl.”

His movements were getting a little rougher with every minute passing, both of you needing this.

Your crush on him for four years, the sexual tension you shared in the music video, the chemistry when you first met him on The Tonight Show.

It was all so surreal and felt like you were living straight out of a fanfic or dream.

His head dropped down to your chest, clearly having a thing for your hardened nipples as he nibbled gently.

Maybe one day Drew would fuck you without the condom and be able to feel your warm, velvety walls squeezing him without the protection.

He could dream.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You swore, the pillow under your hips allowing for his tip to kiss your cervix with every thrust.

“Mhm, yeah. Good girl.” He praised breathlessly, feeling a little lightheaded from everything.

The couch creaked a little beneath you two, your nails digging into his back.

He was already close, eyes fluttered shut as he lifted his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

His calloused thumb went to rub your clit, making your legs twitch around his sculpted hips.

Your cunt squeezed around his cock, your belly on fire with your building orgasm.

“You gonna cum f’me, sweet girl?” He choked out, hips snapping against yours.

“Y-yes!” You squeak, mind hazy, body trembling.

“Yeah… that’s it… let me feel you…”

His breathy words, deep penetration, and touch on your clit sent you over the edge again.

You moaned loudly, clinging onto his body as he talked you through your orgasm.

He was also talking himself through it, feeling his cock twitch as he spilled his seed into the condom.

His body was still against yours, both of you catching your breaths from the intensity.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead again, his chest rising and falling.

“You okay?” He asked you softly.

“Mhm… ‘m good…”

You kissed his lips again, more gently this time. His nose brushed against yours when he pulled away, lips connecting to your cheek.

He reluctantly slid out of you, kneeling between your legs again as his blue eyes gazed down at your cunt.

“Did you bring any more condoms?” You ask after a few moments.

He looks at your face, then reaches over to grab his wallet. He pulls out two more condom wrappers.

You grinned, licking your lips.

“So are we going two more rounds or what?”

tags!!

@slut4you @sweetlike-sugarplum @snowtargaryen @fastlovela @christinechickiee @ahgrace6 @evermorx89 @loren8818181 @eddiemuns0nl0ver @sophiesmovingcastle5 @chimchimjiminie16 @amel1ee @reader1402 @tqd4455 @rxeae @caraxes-syrax @shrimpybbq @drewstarkeysbabe @rafeswhoooreee @meropeeonmee @rafeluvrr @marvelahsobx @raeven-marie43 @fallout-girl219 @brendazzlingg @10ava01 @secretsideofbree @drewstarrrkey @p0gue420 @gibson-g1rl @kiiyomei @spiderstyles04 @sexualparkour @vinaluvsu @domainexpandme @mariadu2 @toterry @taliawz @always-reading @angvl3tears @iloveoldermenn @aesthetic-lyss @lover-girl-estxx @cadhlabear @kaiparkerwifes @herbookgarden @luvleyshif4 @caraxes-syrax @mymultiveres @reader1402 @dinnodallas @darkreymbow @vinaluvsu @sarahskywalker-amidala @christinechickiee @hoelesslyt @tincanhat @scenesofobx @james-bucky-barnackle @angvl3tears @belledawnidk @millietozier @vrsluts @chimmysoftpaws @brathwaite444 @urmanicpixieangelgirl

[5sospenguinqueen]

Am I The Problem? | Franco Colapinto x Williams! Reader

Summary: After finding out you were going to be teammates, you and Franco have very different reactions. Franco is prepared to worship the track you race on whilst you do everything to ignore him. Until it becomes impossible to

Warnings: angst, swearing, the loss of a family member, a suggestive comment

Requested: Yes by anon (full request)

F1 Masterlist

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williamsracing just posted

liked by jensonbutton, jackdoohan and others

francolapinto dream reality

18,200 comments

williamsracing welcome to the team. we’re so excited to have you become part of the williams family 

user1 so they’re replacing logan, an f2 driver promoted to f1 too soon, with an f2 driver promoted to f1 too soon?

officialmpmotorsport we’re very proud of what you’ve achieved this season, and good luck in f1

user2 this doesn’t feel fair. he’s getting a seat (amazing) but will be paired with a driver who doesn’t want him there

dennis_hauger 👏🏻👏🏻

user3 has anyone checked on yn? she was always so happy to be racing alongside her childhood friend, and now they don’t even get to finish the season together

yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others 

yn_ln i knew i was going to have to say goodbye at some point but i never expected it to be so soon. i couldn't have asked for a better teammate but at least you’ll always be my friend. i’ll miss you so much, lo lo, but i will be there supporting you wherever you go next 

23,096 comments

logansargeant 🤍

→ user4 signs of life! 

→ user5 the fact that she is the only person he has responded to

user6 even when she’s devasted, she stays respectful. literally the perfect role model for girls in karting

user7 chat, do we think yn will stay with williams next year?

→ user8 i don’t think she even wants to stay with williams for the rest of the season

→ user9 she looks so miserable any time she’s with them/james vowels

user10 poor franco. she didn’t even congratulate him on any of the posts

→ user11 because she doesn’t have to

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yn_ln posted a new story

logansargeant replied wow so i really am easy to replace → yn_ln lo, no…  → logansargeant how many more times are you going to fall for that? → yn_ln dickhead  → logansargeant the internet was right. you are the personification of satan → yn_ln 🖕🏻🖕🏻

oscarpiastri replied haha the heart eyes are winning you over → yn_ln you can’t say anything, lando lover → oscarpiastri 🙄

user12 replied girl, did you cover up James’ face? 😂

francolapinto replied is that me?? 

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Thumb scrolling down your feed, you couldn't stop the wounded look twisting your face. Numerous tweets glanced back at you, informing you that your teammate’s fans had a very low opinion of you. Was it really a shock that you wouldn’t like journalists hounding your teammate? Had you truly been that mean to him that signs of basic human decency came as a surprise?

The door to your driver’s room was cracked open slightly, allowing you to catch a glimpse of the disconsolate body that shuffled past. A cap covered his usual mop of curls and his head hung low. All he wanted was to hide away in his driver’s room. Away from the hustle and bustle of the garage. All alone. 

“Franco.”

A soft voice broke him from his sorrow. He’d never heard it say his name before, and he’d certainly never heard that gentle tone directed at him. His head snapped up in disbelief. Spinning around, he moved too fast and stumbled slightly. A pink flush decorated his cheeks, realising he’d just embarrassed himself in front of the woman finally talking to him. Your head poked out of the gap between your door and the wall. Almost hesitant to bridge the space between the two of you. You weren’t even fully aware of when you had moved, or decided to talk to him. But here you were, staring at his brown eyes, widened with scepticism.

Committing to your actions, you pushed yourself into the hallway. Unused to such close proximity to you, Franco took two shaky steps back. He could almost feel the wall behind him. 

“I heard about your grandfather. I just wanted to offer my condolences.” Your teeth pulled at your bottom lip. “The media were out of line this morning.” 

“Oh, thank you.” 

Uncomfortable silence stretched between the pair of you. A need to fill it swelled within you.

“Nobody would blame you if you needed the day off. It’s not like we’re going to win any points in the Sprint.”

“I bet you’d like that. A race without me,” his tone was sharp, edged with grief. 

It was a stark contrast to the light, playful timbre you’d become accustomed to hearing around the garage. Hurt briefly flickered across your face, causing him to almost regret his words. But he’d had enough. 

He was tired. He was hurt, and he was not in the mood to be treated like he wasn’t there. Every day he hoped that you would finally speak to him. That you would smile at him, or share the glowing personality you had around the rest of the Grid. When he was still in F2, he’d been lucky enough to spend a day or two with you, and you’d been so warm and inviting. But, the person he was introduced to when he replaced Logan Sargeant hadn’t shown any sign of the person from before. 

“Wait, what? No. Franco, I just… Look, I found out from Twitter and-”

“It’s not like you give me the chance to tell you things in person.” 

Rubbing your hand over your face, you pondered whether you were doing more damage than good. All you wanted was to make amends, and not treat him like shit on a shitty day. Realising you couldn't make things worse, you decided to own up to your less-than-stellar behaviour. 

“Franco, I just wanted to say… I don’t really know what to say. Other than that, I am so incredibly sorry for the way that I’ve acted these past couple of weeks. Believe me, I’m not proud of my actions, and it’s been made very clear to me that I could be ruining your dream.” 

Your feet very subtly shifted closer to him, and his body was acutely aware of the smaller window of space between the two of you. The hairs on the back of his neck raised when the scent of your perfume invaded his nose. He loved that smell. 

“I’ve been so terrible to you. The internet knows that I’ve been terrible to you. And what makes it all that much worse, is that it doesn’t really have anything to do with you.”

Franco watched you inhale deeply before barrelling forward with your heartfelt apology. Your nose had pinkened from the exertion of your speech. Franco decided it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. 

“The truth is, I was angry. I was angry at the team, and the management, and the way they treated Logan was horrendous. But I didn’t realise that I was then doing the same thing to you, and I’m really sorry. I’m aware that none of this justifies my behaviour or makes it right but I just need you to know how much I regret what I’ve done. You’re so talented, Franco. If you had joined the team at any other time, I would’ve been flattered that you were so excited to be my teammate. I still am and-”

“Querida, breathe.” Franco’s lips curled in the corner. A small smile but the first time he had done so since yesterday. “I get it. You’re sorry. You were still mean though.” 

Your heart fluttered at the affectionate term he’d used. After years of working with Spanish drivers, you’d picked up a few words here and there. Unfortunately, his following words ruined any hope you’d felt. 

Scuffing your shoe against the floor, you avoided looking at him. “I know. I know. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

Franco reached out, taking your hand into his. His palm was warm and heated against your cold, almost clammy one. He was endeared by how nervous you seemed to be. At his touch, your head finally lifted to look at him. You were taken aback when your eyes met his, realising he was already staring at you. 

“You could always give me your seat.” He let out a booming laugh at the look of shock on your face. 

“Oh, I get it, you’re winding me up.” You pushed him away from you but your combined hands just ended up pulling you into him.” 

“I wasn’t lying in those interviews. You really are one of my idols. It’s going to take a bit more than a tantrum for me to be mad at you. However, if you really feel you need to make it up to me, I’m not going to object.” 

A body turned the corner, causing you to leap away from the Argentinian. His eyes twinkled as he did his best to keep his face neutral. You scrambled to compose yourself when John, your physiotherapist, glanced between the two of you. He raised his brows before walking past you and into your driver’s room. 

“You have 30 seconds, Yn, to finish your conversation and get your ass in here.” He closed the door behind him, allowing you some privacy. 

Franco turned to walk away, knowing you liked to run on a tight schedule, and not wanting to infringe on that when you seemed to be making a shaky form of peace.

“Dinner!” You blurted out, voice bouncing off the white plastic walls. 

Staring at his muscular back, you watched his shoulders shake with silent laughter before he turned back to look at you. 

“What about it?” 

“Do you eat it?” How were you making this worse!?

“Yes, every day.” 

He wasn’t making this easy on you. 

“Maybe, if you’re not busy this evening, I could buy you dinner when we get out of here.”

“It would have to be early. I don’t know if you know this but I have a very busy day tomorrow.”

“I think I prefer not talking to you.” 

“I’d love to have dinner with you, Cariño,” Franco smiled, “so long as you don’t spend the entire meal sullenly glaring at me. It seems to be a habit with you.”

An irritated shout of your name sounded from inside your room, reminding you that you were well past your allotted thirty seconds. 

Not wanting Franco to have the last word, you looked at Franco before you entered your room. “I’m not sorry that I snuck an LS2 cap into your pile of hats to sign.”

His face turns from pure adoration to unadulterated offence. “That was you?!” 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by jv.f1, lewishamilton and others 

its_yn my boy 💕

23,431 comments 

williamsracing took team bonding to a new level

→ francolapinto i aim to please 

user13 i knew that episode of team torque was carrying a different kind of tension

→ user14 no because he was so giggly and she was giving him full on banter 

→ user15 let’s not ignore how she kept blushing when she caught him looking at her

user16 she fell victim to the heart eyes

→ yn_ln how could i not? have you seen how intense they are? 

user17 oh no because now how do we tell who the biggest simp is 

francolapinto my lips are still waiting for that kiss

→ yn_ln come here then

→ francolapinto 🏃🏽🏃🏽💋

→ user18 oh no. now we have to deal with this instead 

logansargeant excuse me but where is his shirt in that last picture 

→ oscarpiastri completely scandalous behaviour. reported 

→ yn_ln piss off the pair of you 

→ logansargeant @/oscarpiastri pay up. she did my thing first 

→ oscarpiastri technically she did my thing first 

→ francolapinto she did both in the same day 

→ yn_ln franco!

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requests open. they may just take a while

coming soon; max taste part 3 and toto thirst

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[jyoongim]

Hear me out. I can't be the only one that wants to fuck Al's demon form. Like not just the black eyed tentacle gig, I'm talking full form like the size and all 😭 I can take it I swear, Al (narrator: she could not)

Title: A Reminder To All…

Themes: its giving monster fuc but like oof, demon!form Alastor, tentacles, established relationship, rough sex, growling, blood, possessive behavior, antlers, animalistic behaviors.

It was a rather quiet afternoon at the Hazbin Hotel.

You were up in the radio tower straightening a few things while Alastor was out doing gods know what 

You decided that since you had cleaned up most of the place that you would take a stroll through town as some down time.

You hummed a tune as you passed many sinners out and about. Your stroll led pass the digital shop. You slowed as you noticed a crowd gathered outside a Voxtech store.

There were multiple tvs playing things in the windows and what caught your attention was the deals they had going on.

You bit your lip. Oh it couldnt hurt to window shop right?

You entered and was immediately overwhelmed by all the fancy tech.

why did hell need modern tech you had no idea.

A shiny pink camera caught your attention.

And it was cheap.

You did need a new camera. It would help with advertisement and to show the progress of the hotel you thought as you happily paid for it and went about your way.

what you didn’t know was that Vox had been tracking you the moment you left the hotel.

that camera of yours was now his gateway into seeing what Alastor was up to.

Once back at the hotel you pulled out your shiny new purchase.

you turned it on and walked around filming a bit.

You checking the footage to check out the quality when you heard a record scratch

”what is that my dear?” 

You jumped at the sound of Alastor’s voice and spun around holding the camera

His eyes narrowed on it and quirked his brow at you, airing for an explanation.

”Well Al I-I just thought that the hotel could use a camera to help with promoting. We can record our progress. Now you don’t have to do all the work.” You said with a nervous smile, hoping he wouldn’t toss it.

He walked closer to you, mainly keeping his eyes on the tech.

”and where did you get such a frivolous thing?” 

you gulped “At the v-voxtech store”

His ever-present smile tightened before he shrugged “fine if you think it’ll help”

you breathed a sigh of relief and happily went about your way testing it out.

Unaware of the growing shadows emitting from him.

after spending a few hours getting the hang of your new device, you decided to call it a night and put your camera on your nightstand as you got ready for bed.

You shivered slightly under your cover, grumbling you furrowed further to seek some warmth.

why the hell was it so cold?

you shifted again in bed to feel a heavy weight on top of you.

your eyes flew open and you were met with a very frightening sight.

Alastor.

In his demon form.

Your breath got caught in your throat “A-Al?”

He tilted his head, smile wide and sharp “Sleeping well my dear?” His voice was staticky and distorted.

you were so confused.

you hardly EVER saw Alastor upset, especially to the point were he was in his demon form.

“Why is that in your room dear?” He hissed out, jutting his chin to your camera.

You tilted your head confused at his question.

he was angry about a damn camera?

A clawed hand was at your throat.

”I allow many things dear, but this unattractive piece of scrap in your room? That is where I draw the line”

You let out a squeak as your clothes suddenly disappeared and covers ripped away.

”A-Al?!”

Your hands were quickly restrained by his shadows and your legs were spreaded to welcome him closer.

when the hell did he undress?

You felt the faint ghost touch of a tentacle slide against your cunt, teasing your clit. You let out a soft moan.

”Already soaking dearest?” He hummed amused.

You felt the weight of his dick slap against your cunt.

your eyes widened he wasn’t going to…

”Alastor w-wait! I c-can’t!”

A long tongue sweated the side of your face

”But you will darling” and with that he slammed into you.

Your body seized at the sudden intrusion. You let out a cry that was silenced by a tentacle wrapping around your mouth.

Alastor rutted into you, growling and snarling.

Your eyes faintly drifted to the camera by your bed.

A blinking red dot turned on and off.

Alastor gave you a rather harsh thrust.

”eyes on me dear”

you whined loudly, trying to shift your body to accommodate to his harsh thrusting. Your eyes drifted to the top of his head.

Antlers.

you felt your fingers itch with the need to find purchase on them.

you gave a tug at the shadows and huffed, making little grabbing motions hoping he would get the hint.

he granted you grace and your hands immediately flew to his antlers.

He let outa low growl and sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

With his dick hitting that delious spot inside you, you could feel him bottoming out.

You were flipped onto your stomach, facing the camera.

the shadow around your mouth disappeared and a claw hand found your tongue.

”put on a show Mon cher” You felt him flush against you.

Moans and whines filled the room as he  pounded your cunt.

A high pitch whine left your throat as you felt your cunt clench around him.

you were gonna cum soon.

”A-Al-la-stor Ah!” Your eyes crossed as your body tensed and twitched from your orgasm. He let out a deep growl and quickened his pace.

Did he get bigger?

you were suddenly face to face with him.

Your noses brushing against each other as he sought after his own release.

Your arms wrapped around his elongated neck and a hand found one of his ears.

you tugged.

Static ran through your body as he slapped his lips on yours and slammed his hips into you, purring as he filled you with his cum.

you whimpered as your legs were finally released and dropped.

Alastor was breathing heavy as he reached over to the camera

”hope you enjoyed the show old pal” he laughed before destroying the camera.

you were drifting to sleep as you watched him transform back to normal.

”sleep well my dear” was the last thing you heard as he tucked you into his side, humming a soft tune with a wide smile.

He gave a reminder.

Dont fuck with the Radio Demon.

[darlingletters]

gorgeous girl ln4

lando norris x fem!reader ( fc: sabrina carpenter )

in which y/n y/l/n breaks up with her cheating boyfriend and fans are rooting for her and lando norris to get together.

warning: swearing, fluff, the timelines of song releases and races are not in order, cheating with multiple people, breakups, relationships, some spelling errors or grammatical errors. lemme know if there’s anything I missed xx

an: I’ve never done a face claim but I wanted to try and see how it works out. I might not do one again but I am not sure yet. ALSO I am very unsure about the name of this cause I feel like it sounds cringe, so I might end up changing it.

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, y/nfan14 and 334,567,13 others

yourusername over it 🎀 album coming soon loves <3

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user gorgg

user ALBUM PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

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landonorris beautiful as always

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user please date lando

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user I’ve been listening to espresso and please please please on repeat

yourusername liked this comment

⤷ user SAME

user I LOVE YOU

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music.f1gossip

liked by y/nbiggestfan, espressolover and 55,622 others

music.f1gossip are lando norris and y/n y/l/n dating?

it’s known that y/l/n’s recent breakup was one that didn’t end happily because of her ex boyfriend’s infidelity. y/l/n made a story a few weeks after the breakup stating “he had three different side pieces during the whole relationship” which left fans absolutely shocked.

her ex has been getting a lot of hate from y/l/n’s fanbase to a point where he blocked his comments. he has been flaunting around his new girlfriend since the breakup all while texting y/l/n to take him back which we saw because y/l/n posted their messages on her story as seen above.

however, her next story was one with lando norris which was captioned “my saviour fr” which many speculated it was a mention to norris supporting y/l/n during the breakup and defending her from hate comments that she received. she then made a story showing she was at the miami grand prix.

norris and y/l/n have been best friends for quite a while now and many always thought that they’d end up together, however, neither of them have announced anything about their relationship.

in recent times, norris has been so called ‘flirting’ with y/l/n in her instagram comments which has left both their fans going crazy.

now, do you guys think y/l/n and norris are dating? or they just good friends?

let me know in the comments xx

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user that change up is scary

user damn

user lando’s better anyway

user 💀 I love you right after he called her a bitch is crazyyy

⤷ user frrr like what is this guy on?

user THATS ONLY FOR LANDO

⤷ user HE CALLS HER GORGEOUS GIRL

⤷ user they’re so datinggg

user I love themmm

⤷ user SAMEEE

user SAVIOUR!!! it’s actually so cute how he defends her all then time and even promotes her music

⤷ user THEY’RE cuteeee

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainzz55 and 456,822,821 others

yourusername P1 BABY!!! I am so proud of you lan more then you will ever know. congratulations love, you truly deserve this 🤍

tagged landonorris

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landonorris thank you gorgeous, couldn’t have done it without your support ❤️

⤷ yourusername ❤️❤️

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carlossainz55 you never did this when I had my first win 😔

⤷ yourusername I AM SORRY

landonorris you look so gooddd

⤷ yourusername I am not in the photos

⤷ landonorris yeah but you’re in front of me

⤷ user OMD

user the way he’s shamelessly flirting now, he ain’t even try and hide it.

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“LAN! YOU CAN’T BE SAYING THAT!” she tells him sternly, looking up at him.

he had a boyish grin on his face as he looked at her, “what? can’t tell people that my girl- oh sorry best friend looks good right now?”

“you just exposed our relationship. we agreed to wait three months before saying something.” she spoke softly, standing up as she placed her phone down on the coach.

“I can’t wait that long. I want everyone to know that after eight years you are finally my girlfriend.” he says with a smile as he shrugs his shoulders.

“you’re an idiot.” she replied as she tried to hold a serious face which soon fell into a blushing smile the more she looked at him.

“yeah but i’m your idiot.” he says smugly as he pulls her onto his lap to straddle him.

she places her arms around his neck and rests her forehead against his as she strokes the back of his head whilst he keeps his hands on her hips, using his thumb to lightly stroke her hip.

they stay in silence for a few more moments, letting themselves enjoy a rare peaceful moment before she breaks the silence, “I am really proud of you lan, you really deserved that win today.” she says softly, looking into his eyes.

“thank you baby.” he smiles.

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landonorris

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 453,722,763 others

landonorris P1!! got a win and a girl (ive been her’s for two months now. be jealous)

tagged yourusername

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user BEEN HER’S!!!

yourusername really?

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⤷ user I’ve been with her though girl meets world. don’t try me norizz.

yourusername liked this comment

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[theetherealbloom]

The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.  

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.  

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.  

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.  

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.  

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”  

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”  

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.  

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”  

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”  

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”  

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”  

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”  

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.  

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”  

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.  

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.  

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.  

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.  

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.  

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.  

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.  

The reply came faster than you expected.  

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning. 

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.  

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.  

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.  

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.  

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.  

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.  

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.  

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.  

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.  

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON  

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.  

He missed you.  

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.  

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.  

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.  

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.  

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.  

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.  

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.  

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.  

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”  

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.  

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.  

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.  

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.  

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING 

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.  

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.  

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”  

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”  

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”  

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.  

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.  

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”  

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”  

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”  

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”  

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”  

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”  

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.  

AFTER THE PREMIERE  

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.  

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.  

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”  

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.  

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”  

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”  

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”  

“What?”  

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”  

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”  

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”  

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”  

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”  

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.  

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.  

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”  

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”  

AT THE AIRPORT  

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.  

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.  

The response was almost immediate:  

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.  

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.  

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.  

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING  

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.  

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.  

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.  

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.  

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”  

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.  

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.  

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.  

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”  

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.  

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”  

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.  

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.  

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”  

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.  

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”  

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.  

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.  

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.  

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”  

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”  

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.  

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”  

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”  

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”  

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

women in male fields

fratboy!jaehyun x reader

summary: you’re fully aware you’re dating a reformed fuckboy/fratiest fratboy to exist but that doesn’t mean he can get away with acting like a douche without a taste of his own medicine… OR the 3 times sweetheart finds herself acting like a fuckboy and the 1 time Jaehyun calls her out

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol, Americanized college described (l'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart, sweet girl) in order to avoid using y/n, Imk if I missed anything!

a/n: there was something completely magical in my Chili’s triple dipper because I sat down and pounded this out for 4 hours with minimal breaks! I’d had this idea for a while but figured I’d get it out before everyone forgot about the #womeninmalefields TikTok trend. Feedback is appreciated!

Timeline-wise let’s say this is about 4-6 months into Jae and Sweetheart being a couple

This story is a part of my fratboy!Jaehyun universe!

dividers from cafekitsune

You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Jung Jaehyun, one of the most fratboy fratboys to ever exist. You had been around for the parties, for the handful of nights where he overdid it and got sick, countless nights of standing by to watch him play beer pong, no dates on Sunday evenings because of frat meetings, and a couple philanthropic events. You were used to a lot of it by now. 

But your boyfriend had adapted himself so well to this role that you honestly kind of hated some of his behaviors. He had changed some habits, of course. He was no longer the fuckboy fratboy that slept around, no, he was committed to you and you alone. He made some effort into being romantic which took some work since his idea of romance was sending you a daily Snapchat for your streak with a red heart. Gross. Now, he got you flowers occasionally and your favorite snacks. His room used to be an absolute pigsty and now he at the very least he shoved his mess under the bed so you didn’t see.

Then there were some habits that didn’t change and you were tired of them. Beyond tired of them. You were tired of him passively listening, barely paying attention to you, being kind of an asshole, and just being a gross guy. So you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he could do all these things and you could still like him, why wouldn't he still like you?

It had started when you texted Jaehyun on a Thursday afternoon and he didn’t respond until Saturday afternoon. It had been nothing urgent, but you were still annoyed. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. In fact, it was a horrible habit of his. He started a conversation or read a text you sent and just never responded. You knew now, based on experience and the other guys telling you, that Jaehyun sucked at texting. He would still post on Instagram or Snapchat, posting various athletes like they were his friends and promoting frat activities like normal. It was almost like he forgot that the primary function of a phone was to communicate. Good thing he was pretty!

It didn’t make it any less annoying that your boyfriend didn't care to change this habit for you though, so when he finally texted you back, you decided to give him the same treatment. Saturday came to an end and you didn’t text back. Sunday was the same and so was Monday. He texted you countless times, so many questions, random updates on his day, and asking you if you were ok or if he should send help to your dorm. So when you knocked on the door Tuesday afternoon scrolling on your phone when Jaehyun opened the door. It was pretty safe to say he was pretty confused.

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer any of my texts,” Jaehyun asked while he led the two of you upstairs.

You hummed noncommittally, your eyes not leaving the screen of your phone, “oh yeah, my phone broke. My bad.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue, ready to tell you that he had seen you posting on your stories, your phone didn’t look new, and he had heard you on FaceTime with Haechan just yesterday. That you were literally scrolling through Instagram when he opened the door, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled you into his arms, and pulled up the most recent episode of one of your shows. 

He couldn’t really complain if you were here with him now, right? You were in his bed, in his arms, laying on his chest. Everything was fine. A few days of no contact was normal and you both had a good enough relationship where it shouldn’t bother him, right? But it did…

The next time Jaehyun pissed you off was just a week later. He had proven to be a little extra clingy after his punishment of silence and that was good enough for you. It had been enough to hold you off with some of his, less than perfect behavior, until the next time he messed up. Sure, enough it was just 7 days later when he acted stupid again. And it was time for him to learn again. Sometimes he just had to learn to not do something by doing it and learning the consequences. Like a child… or a pet.

Jaehyun had had a stressful week. You knew that, he had told you about it the last time you saw him just yesterday, so you did feel kinda bad for deciding to pull this out of your sleeve now. How was he going to learn if you never tried to fix it though?

Jaehyun was pacing around his room, running a hand down his face and staring at the email that basically told him nothing from their partner sorority. He was social chair, so he was in charge of planning mixers. That’s exactly what he was trying to do! But the Kappa social chair was either knowingly being a pain in the ass or just naturally was a pain in the ass. How was it useful for Jaehyun to know when a handful of sisters all had an astronomy class?! Why did that matter when he was asking her to choose from a handful of dates he’d already chosen?!

Not only was this sorority social chair being annoying, Taeyong had been on his ass to plan some kind of sponsored philanthropic event, but everyone Nu Chi had worked with previously was being so difficult! No one was returning a single one of his emails, he spent his afternoons on hold or making calls, and just getting in contact with new companies and vendors just took so much effort. He currently had one sponsor, which was fine, whatever. But nothing Nu Chi Theta did while Jaehyun was social chair was ever just fine. Fine was acceptable for Alpha Sig’s but not for Nu Chi’s. He would need at least two more sponsors to reach the level of finery he was used to working with.

So that’s what Jaehyun was texting you about, his fingers tapping across the small screen of his phone while he put all his ranting and raving into words and sent off the text with a sigh of relief. You would talk him down, get him through his stress, and give him some advice for his problems. Then he’d feel like a new man, ready to tackle his problems with a clear head just like you always did for him. Just the thought of your advice had him smiling down at his phone while he added ‘sorry, about that. had to vent. how was your day sweets?’ and sent it your way.

On your end, you read through the long text ready to reply and give him some advice and offer your own help, but then you remembered… You remembered how just a few days ago you were venting to him about a small argument you and Ari, your roommate, had gotten into, and he showed no signs of actually listening. You went to him for a reason! He had at least 10 roommates, he never had complaints about any of them, so it wasn’t like you were talking just to talk! You wanted your boyfriend to give you some advice like you always gave him, but all you got was a “damn... Wanna order me some wings?” You had to physically keep jaw from dropping. God, he could be such a fucking guy sometimes! It was like talking to a fucking wall! Albeit a very good looking, handsome wall, but a wall nonetheless.

It was time for him to get yet another taste of his own medicine. Instead of taking the time to offer your advice or offer your help, you smirked, staring at your screen as you typed out, ‘that sucks’. Next text, ‘My day was chill, kinda hungry … send me door dash?’

On his end, Jaehyun stared at the screen with blatant confusion, watching as the minutes ticked by while he waited for some long paragraph with solutions and encouragement to be sent his way. After five minutes nothing came. The same after 10. No change after 20 and then he sets his phone aside feeling grumpy and pissy. Why wasn’t his girlfriend helping him? Did you even read his message?

And he couldn’t exactly call you out on it because it wasn’t an issue between the both of you. They were problems he had before you guys were together sure, but he liked having you to lean on now. He sighed tiredly, resting his chin atop his folded arms with a pout while staring at his dark screen and willing you to text him back again so all his issues would be just one step closer to being fixed.

His heart skipped a beat when the screen lit up and he saw the familiar combination of emojis used for your contact. He reached for his phone eagerly, feeling his heart soar at the anticipated text where you would help him solve his issues. But his face fell into a frown and he groaned out loudly at the words on his screen: ‘is my food on its way yet?’

The last reciprocation of his fuckboy energy was probably the worst. You honestly don’t know how you let Jaehyun get away with it practically unscathed, but karma was coming around now and she wasn’t merciful. It was your pièce de résistance, the cherry on top of your fuckboy sundae, your magnum opus, your masterpiece. 

To give Jaehyun some credit, it had been a while since he had dated a woman for a long period of time, or really, dated any woman at all. Maybe he had forgotten some very basic decorum and manners as far as ways to act and things to say or not say. Just yesterday you had been complaining about your professor being very vague in the instructions for your assignment, and even more vague when you emailed him to ask for clarity. “Like the instructions make it sound so simple, but it can’t be that simple if this project accounts for 30% of our grade! Like hello, is it hard to reply to an email with words that actually fucking mean something?” You groaned, running your fingers through your hair while you texted your project group chat what your professor had replied.

Jaehyun chuckled, running a calming hand down your back, focusing his relaxing touch on your lower back as his fingers kneaded at your muscles, “chill out sweetheart, I think you’re making this a bigger deal than it actually is.”

You sent him an unamused look from the corner of your eye, “chill out? Jae, I just said this project accounts for a third of my grade. I can’t be chill about this.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, “are you… you know?”

Your fingers froze over your keyboard, waiting for his next words, giving him a chance to backtrack. He stayed silent and waited patiently. You exhaled, speaking in a voice that was all too eerily calm, “Am I what, Jaehyun?”

“Are you on your period? You just seem extra worked up about something kind of pointless.” He replied casually, his fingers continuing to work at your lower back. The exact area you had once confessed hurt you so bad you could barely stand in the first couple days of your period. This- somewhat thoughtful- little shit!

You smacked his hands away while you closed your laptop and gathered your things in a hurry, mumbling, “you’re such an asshole sometimes.”

Jaehyun stared at you in shock, an asshole? He was being an asshole for caring about his girlfriend’s well-being? “Sweetheart, it’s just that you seem to be making a bigger deal out of this than it actually is,” he tried to explain.

You held a hand up, silencing him, ”every time you open your mouth, you dig yourself into a deeper hole. No, I’m not on my period. Yes, it is a big deal and yes, I’m actually leaving. Good night and goodbye.”

This very conversation had been playing on repeat in your mind while Jaehyun vented to you about Johnny being up his ass about new recruits being low as he paced around his room. “I mean, it shouldn’t be solely on my shoulders if recruits are low. There are plenty of brothers who don’t have as many responsibilities as I do. Like, I barely figured out the whole sponsored mess with Taeyong and now Johnny decided to stick his foot up my ass too. Can I get a fucking break or something?!” He ranted passionately.

You stared at him blankly from your seated position on his bed, forcing your smirk to stay hidden. “Is it… you know?” You began to ask.

“Is it stressful? Hell yeah it is, I mean shouldn't we have any and all brothers taking turns trying to recruit. I mean that’s why I take my time to throw mixers, parties, and sponsored events that kick ass so that people want to join,” Jaehyun replied with a tired sigh.

“No,” you laughed softly, “is it like your time of the month? You seem to be making a big deal out of nothing?”

When Jaehyun turned to you with his eyes wide in astonishment, he expected to see you laughing it off playfully. He expected for you to confess that you were just kidding and kiss him sweetly. But you cocked your head to the side and raised a brow as if to ask, ‘what’s the problem?’

After that, Jaehyun was quick to rise to his feet, pinning you with a heated stare. “What the hell has been up with you? You've been acting… grimy for like the last month.”

You laughed in astonishment, “I’ve been acting grimy? Huh, then imagine how I feel on a regular basis!”

“You?! Sweets, you’ve been acting like a douche! Like when you didn’t respond to me for days even though you were posting like normal and you lied about your phone being broken! Like, hello! You were on Instagram right in front of my face with the same crack on your screen since I’ve known you!”

You raised a brow, holding back an amused smirk, “that’s all? I don’t reply for a couple days and now I’m a douche? Babe, you’re being like really emotional right now, calm down.”

“And that too!” Jaehyun exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “why are you asking me if it’s my time of the month when I’m talking about something that’s bothering me? I want you to support me. You did the same thing when I texted you looking for advice when I was handling the whole mixers and sponsors thing.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “well, I don’t know what you want me to say right now.”

Jaehyun raised his brows and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what the hell he was hearing. Was he in some kind of alternate universe? Had aliens come down and planted worms in your brain? What happened to his sweet girlfriend?! “Well, an apology would be really nice,” he replies while cocking his head at you.

“And have you ever apologized to me for any of that same behavior?” You ask in a calm voice.

“Wha- me apologize?! This isn’t about me! It’s about you!”

“Oh, so it’s only a problem when I act like this and not you? Got it.”

“When?! When have I acted like you?” Jaehyun asks in exasperation, eyes wide with shocked confusion.

“Hmmm. Let me think!” You exclaim before dramatically placing the tip of your finger on your chin, “just like everyday we’ve been together, you dummy!”

“Give me examples. I can’t believe this.”

“Alright, how about how I’ve had to train you like some kind of pet to learn some very basic texting etiquette? I let you get away with being a shitty texter for months and the one time I do it, you go crazy. I got used to not getting a response from you after days on end and I act like you did one time and you almost call campus security to my dorm to see if I’m alive,” you state, counting out a single finger. 

With the next finger, “I come to you for advice regarding my single roommate considering you have like a hundred of them, and what do you do? You say, damn, buy me wings? Who the fuck does that?! So it didn’t feel very good when I did it to you, huh? Did you like looking for advice only to be hit with some bullshit response and then asked for food? Which I never got by the way!”

Third finger, “And just now. Oh no, did you not like being told your issue meant nothing? Awww, mmmm, are you sad?” You pull your face into a very sarcastic sad face, “now imagine how I feel when you asked me if I was on my fucking period?! Like, have you never been around someone with a vagina? Even Mark and Haechan who barely pull know better than to ask some shit like that! And these are just three of your douchebag behaviors! Shall I continue, Mr. so called I’m-perfect-and-can-never-make-mistakes-because-that-would-be-impossible!”

Jaehyun stood speechless. Was he really that bad? Well, clearly he was. He had to admit he didn’t think he was this bad. He had been really good about adapting to his new role as a boyfriend and thought everything else that came his way was just going to be easy to handle. Apparently, he hadn’t handled it all the right way.

“I didn’t realize I was this bad, I’m sorry. Wow,” Jaehyun sighed, sitting on the bed with his folded over his mouth, “sweetheart, I’m really sorry.”

But that was another way Jaehyun had adapted. He didn’t start arguments while being hard headed, he listened when the issue was serious, he accepted wrong doing, and made changes. 

You crawled across his bed, sitting beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been petty. I should have told you these things bothered me in the moment instead of using them against you… but it was kinda fun.”

Jaehyun rested his head atop yours and chuckled softly, “I think I’m really glad you’re not one of the frat guys because we’d always have girls in here yelling about you gaslighting them. How did you handle me doing this for so long?”

“It helps that you listen when it matters. You’re sweet, you can be romantic, you care about me, you make an effort for me, I can tell you’re trying to be better for me even if it doesn’t all come easily for me,” you explain in a calm voice, “and you’re hot as hell, the abs don’t stop, and you keep that body nice and tight for mama, don't you baby boy?”

Your cackle rings out across his room while he jumps away from you with flushed cheeks. “Don’t… don’t talk like that. It’s totally freaking me out!”

“Come on, babe,” you tease while deepening your voice playfully, “bring me that ass.” 

You manage to grab him while he tries, and fails, to jump away. You playfully knead his (lack of) ass while grinning up at him. You pucker your lips, to which Jaehyun playfully rolls his eyes before kissing you sweetly. “I’m so glad you’re a girl because you would be an absolute terror as a guy,” he states while shaking his head and cupping your cheeks.

“I think I should rush, baby,” you respond playfully, “you could be my big, dude! Come on, bro!”

“Enough of this!” Jaehyun jokingly hisses, “I want my sweet girl back.”

“Fine,” you drawl out with pout, “let this be your lesson though, Jae. When you go low, I can go lower. And I will go lower.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned. I’ll be better at texting, I’ll be an active listener, I’ll give you advice when you need it, and I’ll never ask you if you’re on your period again,” Jaehyun nods.

“See, you’re such a great learner. Let’s go get you a treat, baby,” you smile sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking his hand and leading him down the stairs toward the kitchen.

“I don’t know how I feel about you talking to me like I’m a dog…”

You smile at him, “you like it.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, “do I?”

You hum, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer, “yup, you have a praise kink.”

Well, if you say so…

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Top of the Class (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Agatha finally lets you sit in on one of her classes.

Words: 7.1k

Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, power imbalance, age gap (all 18+), praise kink, possessiveness, swearing, jealousy, mentions of cock warming, mentions of orgasm denial, mentions of overstimulation, mentions of spanking, edging, fingering (R receiving), choking, strap-on (R receiving), blowjob (R giving), degradation, hair pulling, begging, marking

Agatha’s hand was resting on the top of your head, nails scraping over your scalp as she petted you. Your back was pressed against the sofa, leaning against her leg, cheek resting on her thigh. You’d given up on the book in your lap, eyes closed, luxuriating in the feeling of her. You hummed, shuffling closer.

“Are you falling asleep, pet?”

Her voice was a soft hum, almost amused. You mumbled something, curling one arm around her calf, pressing more insistently against her. Her fingers gave one sharp tug on your hair, pain blooming over your scalp.

“Hey,” you protested.

But it wasn’t enough for you to draw away. Nothing could convince you to stop touching her when she was allowing it. Her warmth was seeping into your body. She wound a strand of your hair around her finger, tugging on it again, this time gentler.

“Are you going to sleep if I leave you here during my class?” she asked.

You buried your face against the muscle of her thigh, refusing to answer. She was not one to promote wasted time. Not unless it was to do something she wanted. Like laze around in bed all day, nothing but caresses and kisses and shared laughter.

“I can’t have you wasting the entire afternoon,” she warned.

“You’re the one who kept me up all night,” you grumbled.

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time,” she said.

Of course you hadn’t. She’d had your arms tied above your head as she’d kept you on the brink long enough to drive you crazy. You were hardly going to tell her to stop when she was making you feel so good.

“C’mon, just one short nap,” you wheedled, “you won’t even be here to see.”

“Exactly. Don’t you think you should try and get as much work done when I’m not here to…” Her fingers tugged on your hair until you looked up at her, “play with you?”

“How am I meant to when I’m so tired?” you asked.

“If you want to spend the night in your dorm room, be my guest,” she said.

“No,” you said, so fast there was no way to play it off as anything but desperate.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” she asked, “since I clearly can’t trust you on your own.”

“You can trust me. I’m a good girl,” you whined.

“I know you try to be,” she said, fingertips brushing over the apple of your cheeks, “you try so hard. But sometimes you can’t help yourself.”

You whimpered, pressing closer. She lent forward until her breath ghosted over your skin. Her hair, usually wild and free, was pinned up and you could see the long column of her neck. It called to you, begging for your lips to attach to it, your tongue to taste her skin.

“Up here, pet,” she said.

Her finger tilted your chin up until your eyes met hers. The way she was looking at you had your stomach clenching, butterflies springing to life, fire sparking in your veins. It was full of such heat, scorching you, turning your head fuzzy.

“I’m not sure you’ll do as you’re told if left to your own devices,” she said.

“What do you suggest?” you asked, letting yourself gaze at her with undisguised desire.

“I think you’d better join me in class today,” she said.

“I should what?”

You eyes blinked up at her, stomach swooping. You’d never been given the opportunity to watch her teach. When taking one of her classes had felt like a pipe dream, you’d imagined the legend of a woman at a lectern. Now, knowing her, you knew it would ruin you to watch her.

“You need my watchful gaze on you, pet,” she said, “you might even learn something.”

“I promise you I won’t,” you said.

She chuckled, husky, from deep in her chest, making you tremble at her feet. Her knuckles brushed over your cheekbone surprisingly soft.

“And why’s that, pet?” she asked.

“Because all I’ll be able to think about is your mouth, and your fingers, and what you do to me,” you replied.

“And what do I do to you?” she asked.

“Ruin me.”

She seemed pleased with your breathless response, grinning down at you like you were her good little pet, like she was going to swallow you whole, like all your dreams were going to come true. You glowed for her, so pleased, shuffling closer. Maybe you weren’t going to be able to nap, but she was offering you the chance to show her how well you followed orders. You could be so good for her.

An hour later, you were following her across the campus, towards the small lecture theatre that attempted to contain her genius. The usual circle of space was given to the two of you, leaving you in your own bubble with her. It was how you preferred it, not letting the rest of the world in when you were with her. She was the world to you.

Inside the lecture theatre, a group of students sat scattered over the chairs. You watched, a rippling effect of straightening spines, eyes alighting on Agatha. Your Agatha. Of course she got such a response from her students. She was formidable.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd, watching the way they watched her. A few glances passed over your, a mixture of confusion and jealousy. Clearly your reputation had seeped into their collective consciousness, your special place in the ecosystem of Professor Harkness’s teaching career. Too many of them were watching her with an undisguised look of wanting. You recognised it, the same expression on your face when you saw her. The same expression she seemed to find amusing on your features.

“Go take a seat,” she murmured in your ear, her hand on the small of your back nudging you towards the stairs.

You nodded, mute, her breath on your skin raising goosebumps. Even in front of an audience, you couldn’t stop your reaction to her. She was something otherworldly, magical in how she made you feel. Like a magnet, you felt yourself drawn towards her no matter the distance.

You sunk into a chair at the back of the hall, where you could watch her and not be watched by any of her students. You wanted to gaze at her, drink in this moment, watch her in her element. You knew it would wreck you but you craved it, your destruction at her hand. Her eyes alighted on you, a fleeting glance, but you saw it from the tilt of her lips. She knew what she was about to do to you.

With your chin resting in your hand, you could gaze down at her. She waited another few minutes, the air turning electric with anticipation. She fiddled with the laptop, a powerpoint showing behind her. It was familiar, the picture one you’d poured over with her before, heads bent together over a book, close enough that whispers were all you needed. Her shoulder had been pressed against yours, long fingers tracing over the plate, spinning a story for you. When your gaze had inevitably crawled up her arm to her face, she’d already been looking back, blue eyes molten, taking in every single one of your micro expressions. She hadn’t let you kiss her until she was finished telling you the story, but you’d ached to since the first word fell from her lips.

The door crashed open, starting you. A windswept boy hurried in, calling out an apology to Agatha. Her lip curled and those blue eyes flashed dangerously. You watched each sure step as she sauntered over to him. Your stomach clenched and you thought you knew what was coming.

“What time do you call this?” she asked, voice quiet but ringing in the students’ silence. All eyes were watching.

“Sorry Professor Harkness,” the boy said, one hand pushing through his hair, ruffling it in what he must have thought was an attractive way, “traffic was crazy.”

“What did I tell you at the start of the semester?” she asked, head cocking to the side.

You could see him searching for the answer, the slump of his shoulders when he came up empty.

“I told you,” she said, bending down, both hands on the arms of the chair, pinning him under her gaze, “don’t bother showing up if you’re not serious about this class.”

“I am serious. I’m so serious. It was just-” he said.

“Traffic. So you said,” she said straightening up.

You watched him let out a relieved breath, relaxing back into the seat. Agatha turned on her heels and you held your breath.

“Get out,” she said.

The boy stiffened.

“But I am serious,” he argued, “you know I’m serious about this class. I need this to graduate.”

“You should have thought about that before you were late,” she said, not even looking at him to add insult to injury, “everyone was informed that I don’t accept late arrivals. Either show up early or not at all.”

He stood, face going a splotchy red.

“Bitch,” he spat.

She was slow to turn and you could tell from the set of her lips that she was angry. Hidden, secret, not obvious unless you’d spent a lot of time with her, you weren’t sure any of the students realised. The boy certainly didn’t. He had no idea how deep in shit he was.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that if you’re hoping to hurt my feelings,” she replied.

“It’s one minute. What’s it matter?” he demanded.

“The second you start allowing standards slip is the second you give up. I have no interest in teaching burn outs. Get out of my class,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment before he snatched up his bag. His stomping footsteps echoed as he left again, under the watchful gaze of the rest of the students. The door was loud as it slammed shut behind him.

Your thighs clenched together under your tiny table, breathless, mouth dry, heart thundering. Blue eyes found you and the warmth in your cheeks was for no one but her.

“Does anyone else have something they wish to add before I begin class?” she asked, voice carrying through the room.

Quiet negatives came from every corner of the room. You couldn’t look away as a smile spread over her face.

“Good,” she said, “then let me tell you a story.”

You settled back in your seat, the familiar story washing over you. You didn’t need to concentrate, knowing the story, having heard it in her husky voice, late at night, whispered into your skin over and over again, teasing you until you answered her questions correctly while her fingers drew you taut. The same story that played along with the picture of witches dancing in the moonlight hand in hand with demons.

No, you paid attention to her body, rather than her words. The way her hands moved through the air, illustrating something only she could see. Her voice rose and fell, lingering on certain words, her tongue caressing each syllable. She strode up and down, turning dramatically, weaving together a performance that had you throbbing with need.

You melted in your seat, watching her, lips parted, wondering if you could convince her to take you on her desk when you returned to her office. You were being so good. She had to reward you. She had to.

She paused, eyes dragging up to you. You watched as her tongue dragged along her lower lip, her pause deafening. Your own teeth sunk into your lower lip, imagining your own tongue following the same path. Her head titled. And then she was off again, continuing her lecture.

You inhaled sharply, looking away for a moment. You could pick out the students that were hanging on her every word, those that lent forward in their chairs, wanting to be closer to the sparkling woman. She might have had a reputation around campus, but those who managed to stick it out clearly found her as intriguing as you did.

You hated the thought of them thinking about her the way you did. Fantasising. Imagining. Working hard to please her the same way you did in the hopes they would be singled out. That she would look at them as if they were special. As if they would be the one to break through the hard exterior.

You were the only one who got to see beyond the performance to the woman underneath. And you were certainly the only one that got to benefit from those long fingers and flashing eyes and cruel smirk. No one else was hers.

No one else had a claim over her. Just you. Only you. Always you.

Your eyes slipped back to her, finding her leaning towards another one of her students. They were gazing up at her, dazzled, and your jaw clenched. But then her head tipped up and she caught your eye and you knew she was doing it on purpose. She wanted you watching. She wanted you paying attention. She wanted you jealous.

So you sat back in your chair, fingers combing through your hair, playing with the ends. The soft flannel of your shirt fell down towards your elbows, her perfume a permanent scent embedded in the material. She’d never asked for it back after you’d stolen it, the purple material a comfort when she wasn’t around.

You tipped your chin down, watching her intently. Her lips pulled up into a half smirk, leaning away from the student. She turned away from you, hands resting in her pockets, continuing on with the story. Letting your eyes sweep over her body, all you wanted to do was slip between her legs, taste her skin, hear her moan. You loved the noises she made when you were knuckles deep inside her.

The next time those eyes found you, you slipped your fingertip into your mouth, cheeks hollowing, maintaining eye contact with her. There was no stutter, no break in her words, no stumble, but you saw the way her fingers clenched.

If she was playing with you, you’d play right back.

You rested your fingers around your own throat, waiting for her to look back. You tipped your head back, lips parting, hooded eyes daring her to do something. Her shoulders tightened and her words came out a touch sharper than you were sure she’d intended them to be.

Then she gifted a smile to one of the girls in the front row. Not her usual smile. The one that she usually bestowed on you when you were particularly brilliant. You didn’t like the way your heart thudded. It reminded you that she would always hold so much power over you. With a single word she could break you.

Although, you might be able to break her too, if you ever lost your mind and wanted to hurt her.

When her gaze sought you out again, you knew you were looking at her like you wanted her to throw you down on the floor and have her way with you in front of all of her students. That you were imagining the pleasure she could give you. That you were thinking of the ways she could make you scream.

Her own eyes darkened, tongue wetting her lips again. Your lips parted on a soft sigh, fingertips trailing over your own skin in a mirror of the path hers had taken over your body that morning. You traced her name into your skin, slow enough for her to realise what you were doing. The expression on her face was nothing but raw need.

You thought you’d won the game she’d started. Your checkmate move, the one that always had her melting. Making it clear you were hers and hers alone, and that you were proud of the fact. That you luxuriated it. That you loved being claimed by her.

You spent the rest of the class watching her, gazing with what you were sure was a lovesick look, tracing her name over and over again into your skin as you considered all the ways you wanted to show her your appreciation for letting you join her class. And hopefully earn you another invitation.

You were beginning to grow drunk on her, addicted to her, salivating over her as she strode around the room, hands waving, fingers curling in a move you found very familiar. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, holding in the moan that wanted to be heard.

She wrapped up the lecture, those eyes finding you again, lips curling up when she saw the state you were in. You shifted in your seat, squirming when her expression darkened. Lingering, you stayed in your seat as the students filtered out, a few staying behind to ask questions. She waved them away, her gaze caught on you.

You lent back, watching her approach from under hooded eyes. Hands in her pockets, she exuded powered, the kind that was heady and addictive and delicious. She walked through the row in front of you, leaning over the chair to draw closer to you.

“Did you learn something, pet?” she asked.

“Uh huh.” You nodded, leaning towards her.

“And what did you learn?” she asked.

“That I’m going to have to keep you chained up in your house,” you said, “you’re entirely too sexy when you teach and I’m not the only one who notices.”

“What on earth could you mean?” she asked, widening her eyes, affecting innocence.

“I think you know the exact effect you have on them,” you said, leaning in until you were only a hair’s breadth from her.

“What effect do I have on you?” she asked.

“How about you come here and find out,” you suggested.

Her hand grasped your chin, nails digging into your cheeks. Your mouth fell open, a soundless beg for her to come closer. When her eyes dipped down to your lips, you strained against her hold to get closer.

“You think you’re in control here? You think your little display will get you what you want? You think you have any say in how I teach my students?” Her lips brushed against yours, featherlight and ghost-like, “you have sorely miscalculated, pet.”

The flash of heat that went through you was embarrassing. You shouldn’t be so ready for her with so little work on her part. Leaning into her touch, you whimpered, just loud enough for her to hear you.

“You spent the entire class testing my patience,” she growled.

“I was being good for you,” you said.

“You were being a dirty whore. A spectacle. If anyone had seen you they would have known what a desperate little slut you are. Is that what you want? Do you want all my students to know how needy you are for my cock?” Her fingernails only dug in harder.

“Want them to know I’m the only one you touch,” you whimpered.

Her smirk wasn’t kind, full of malice while you could only beg for her.

“You’ve been nothing but a distraction, pet. You were meant to be good for me while I taught but you’re nothing but a naughty pet that needs to be punished.” The way her voice lowered into something husky, a rasp of a voice, had your thighs clenching again, “come on.”

She stood, releasing your face and you felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach. You hurried after her, rushing down the steps until her arm caught you around the waist, dragging you closer. Her kiss was searing, far too short by half, and you whimpered when she drew away.

Following her back across campus, you didn’t even notice the way people jumped out of her way. What you did notice was a few of the students still milling about, their eyes finding Agatha without pause, turning to her like she was the sun. Your stomach churned again.

You were the only one to lay claim over her. She was yours, not theirs, no matter what they seemed to want. She’d made it clear you were hers in every sense of the word.

Her hand curled around your wrist as she entered the history building, tight enough for you to feel secure with her. You liked when it became hard to know where you ended and she began. Having her wrapped so tightly around you was one of those things you loved but never told her. She’d tell you to stop being so sentimental.

Pushing her door open, she flung you inside, slamming the door behind her. Ignoring your pleading eyes, she took a seat behind her desk. Her legs spread wide, chin resting in her hand, watching you as you stood there, waiting for some kind of instructions. You felt breathless under that gaze, wanting to climb into her lap, to ride her thigh, to do anything you were allowed to ease the need that had been coursing through your veins since she’d begun her lecture.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over your body, “even under careful watch you just can’t help yourself.”

“You’re just too-“

“Oh no,” she interrupted, “you’re not blaming your behaviour on me.”

Her fingers began to tap on the arm of her chair, considering you with an intensity that made you tremble.

“Were you hoping to make a fool of me in front of my students? You thought you had that power over me? That your childish antics would get a response from me?” she asked, displeasure colouring her words.

“You did react,” you said, knowing it was the wrong thing to say.

Her fingers gently tugged at the buttons of her shirt, opening it, exposing inch after inch of skin. Your mouth grew dry, eyes trained on it. There was no chance this was going the way you wanted and yet you couldn’t see the downside as you watched her.

Lace peeked out, inviting you in, tempting you to fall to your knees in front of her. She paused, dragging one finger up her chest, neck arching back before dropping down to look at you again.

“Come here, pet,” she commanded.

You did, unable to stop yourself even if you’d wanted to. Slipping between her and the desk, you reached a hand out to her, wanting to feel her beneath your touch. She slapped your hand away.

“Good girls get to touch,” she said, “and I see no good girls here.”

Quicker than you could catch, she had stood, hand on your body turning you, pressing your hips into the edge of her desk. You gasped. Her breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, hands pinning yours to the surface of the desk.

“Bad girls get punished,” she whispered.

Her tongue ran up the length of your neck. You shivered, hips pressing back into her, feeling the bulge in her trousers, the thick length you knew was hidden in there. After all, you’d seen her put it on that morning. She shoved you forward again, the edge painful as it dug in. You whined but she did nothing, keeping you pinned against her desk, unable to touch, to taste, to sink into her.

“How shall I punish you?” she hummed, lips brushing the vulnerable skin of your neck.

“Agatha,” you whined.

“I could refuse to give in to you, not touch you for a good long while, not let you cum until I feel you’ve learnt your lesson,” she said, still whisper soft

“Please,” you whimpered.

“I could have you warm my cock until the end of the day, and for every single time you distract me as I try to get my work done, I get to think of new punishments for you,” she suggested.

“Please,” you tried again.

“Or maybe I should have you cum over and over again until you can’t take it any more. Give you everything you want since you’re so needy,” she whispered, “and then when you think you can’t take any more, I just keep going since you wanted it so badly. You’ll take as much as I say you will and you’ll thank me for it. Every. Single. Orgasm.”

You were breathless, caught against her desk, pinned without the chance to move. Her lips kept ghosting over your skin, breath brushing until you shivered. Her teeth tugged on your earlobe, and the warmth was spreading, throbbing between your legs until you weren’t sure you could stay upright if she wasn’t keeping you there.

“I could spank you. Your skin would look so pretty with my handprints all over it,” she mused.

“I need you,” you whined.

“Unfortunately, pet, this isn’t about what you need, or what you want, or how good you think you are. This is about me teaching you a lesson,” she said, “I am your professor, after all.”

The shot of pleasure that went through you at the reminder, that you were one of her students, that this was wrong and most would frown upon it. They just didn’t understand. No one could understand the connection you had with your Agatha.

“How about we start with this and see what happens?”

She grasped both of your hands in one of hers, the other slipping past the waistband of your jeans. She chuckled, low in her throat when she felt how wet you were. You let out a shaky breath both unsure what she wanted from you, but wanting to give it to her.

Her finger was slow as it circled over your clit. Your breath was loud to your own ears. Soft lips attached themselves to your skin, sucking at your pulse point, tongue pressing down to feel your blood thrum. Her hips ground against your ass, pushing you more firmly against her fingers.

“Did you enjoy your little display in class?” she asked, whispered into your skin, “did you enjoy trying to take control?”

You couldn’t move as her fingers were slow on your bundle of nerves. You made a small noise, a whimper or a moan or something that was pathetic with need. Her teeth nipped at your skin, not gentle but not as harsh as she’d been with you before. It was like butterflies exploding in your stomach all over again.

“Such a display for me,” she murmured, “I think you’d like my fingers to make a pretty necklace for you.”

“Yes,” you hissed.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you touched yourself. My name was a nice touch, pet. Because you are mine. My little pet to play with.”

You whimpered at her words.

“Do you like that? You like being mine? Mine to do with as I please?” Her lips brushed over her skin, “do you like being owned by me, pet?”

“Uh huh,” was all you managed to say as her fingers continued to play with your clit.

“You know what I enjoy most about owning you?” she asked, voice a soft murmur.

You let out a desperate noise in answer. You felt her smile against your skin.

“I have complete control over you,” she said.

Her fingers were rough, nothing but harsh strokes, drawing you closer to the precipice. You were trying to rock against them, to chase your high like the needy thing you knew you were. You were panting, pinned to the desk, not even feeling the pain of it anymore, so focused on the way she was making you feel.

Her fingers stilled. Your pained cry only seemed to amuse her, the chuckle a vibration through her chest.

“Agatha,” you pleaded.

“Complete.” Her thumb stroked over your clit again, “control.”

She held you there, fingers still resting against you, but not giving you the friction you needed. She ignored you, every noise you made, every wiggle of your hips, every pleading gasp of her name. It was torture, having her there and not being given what you wanted.

“I do own you, don’t I, kitten?” she asked, voice low, a note of something new in her voice.

“Yes,” you gasped, “I’m yours.”

She groaned, face buried in your neck. The way she kissed your skin, nipping, sucking, tongue tasting however much she could reach was surprisingly desperate. Even pinned to the desk, hands held in one strong grip, only able to sigh her name, you felt the way she pressed closer to you.

Her fingers sunk into you, so easily, your wetness making it so simple. You threw your head back, her name sweet honey on your tongue as she forced you back to the edge. So close, you could taste it. Fingers curling within you, stroking you, turning your head hazy. There was nothing you could do but clench your fingers and let her do as she wanted with your body.

You trembled, legs shaking, your moans so loud in the quiet office. You felt it in your lower stomach, the melting of fire through your veins, the beginning of muscles fluttering. Her hand stilled, slipping out of you.

“No,” you groaned.

“This is a punishment, pet,” she reminded you.

Her hand slipped out of your trousers, hand curling around your throat. Your slickness smeared over your skin and you couldn’t even care. You could happily become whatever mess she wanted you to be if she would only touch you again.

With her hold on you, she managed to get you to turn your head. Her lips descended on yours, soft despite the tight grip she had on you. When her tongue slipped between your lips, tasting you until you were melting, whimpering, pressing closer. She chuckled, teeth sinking into your lower lip, pulling on it. You were nothing but your base desires, needing her closer, needing her in every way. She possessed you in every single way it was possible to own another person.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” she mumbled against your lips.

“Yes,” you sighed.

“I’m not sure you have,” she said, drawing back.

“Agatha,” you whined.

“I do so love the way you say my name,” she said, eyes sweeping over you.

The fingers around your throat tightened. The noise you made was so pathetic, the auditory embodiment of need. Her eyes hard darkened, smouldering, molten as she looked at you.

“Do you want my cock, kitten?” she asked.

“Yes please,” you whimpered.

“So polite.” She let your hands go and gently stroked your hair, “keep your hands on the table and I might just let you have it.”

With one hand around your throat, the other dove back into your underwear, stroking through your dripping folds. Thumb grinding against your clit, the way you whined only seemed to drive her on. She was grinding against your ass and you were desperate for her. Your nails dug into the wood of the desk, doing everything in your power to keep them there as she did everything in her power to drive you mad with nothing but her fingers.

You were so sensitive under her touch, each stroke sending shockwaves through you. You trembled, every nerve ending on fire. Her hand only tightened around your throat until your airways cut off. Your fingers clenched, hips trying to rock against her, tears pricking at your eyes. You wanted her so much. You could taste your orgasm, could practically see it. It was right there, right within reaching distance. One more second and it would break over you.

Her hand pulled free again and the tear fell. She kissed it away from your cheek, tongue catching it. Releasing your throat, her body disappeared from behind you. You shivered in the chill, the frustration nothing but a familiar friend when it came to her. Her chair creaked.

“Turn around, pet,” she commanded.

You did, finding her leaning back in her chair, thighs spread, purple strap bobbing in the air. You swallowed, eyes trained on it.

“On your knees, pet.”

You fell immediately, the sharp pain not even registering. Crawling forward, you looked up at her, waiting for more orders. Her hands gently ran through your hair, blue eyes dazzling as she held your gaze.

“Go on,” she said, “suck my cock like the dirty whore I know you are.”

Your tongue ran up the length of it before you sucked the tip into your mouth. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, but you knew how to follow instructions, and if you were good enough you’d be rewarded. Her fingers were tangled in your hair, guiding you further down.

You did your best to relax your throat, taking her as deeply as you could. Her hips pushed up, lips quirking up as you gagged around her cock. Slowly pulling up again, you suckled on the tip before sliding down again. Her fingers tightened in your hair, the sharp pull making you moan around the silicone.

“Look at you. So good as sucking cock,” she murmured, voice husky, “you belong on your knees, pet.”

Her praise had you pressing your thighs together again.

“So pretty and all mine,” she sighed.

You redoubled your efforts, wanting more of her praise. You wanted to be her good girl. You wanted her to know you would do anything for you. You wanted to give her everything she deserved.

“Could spend all day like this with you. I’ve imagining it, you know. Sitting at this desk, you under there on your knees, your mouth put to work. Just imagine, sitting here, your mouth on me, as I’m doing office hours with my students. What do you think they’d do if they knew? If they could see you being so good for me? If they knew your rightful place was on your knees for me?” Her fingers sharply pulled on your hair, “but then I don’t want to share this sight with anyone.”

You groaned around her cock. Something in her softened.

“No, this sight is all for me,” she said, and you whimpered at the reverence in her voice.

Your hands grasped her bare thighs, head bobbing, guided by her hands in your hair. The way she praised you was so delicious, emptying your head of anything but her. There was only this, and the way you felt on fire with her. The ache of your knees was so distant, focused as you were on her.

“Such a pretty pet,” she murmured, “c’mere.”

Her hands in your hair pulled you off her with an indecent noise. Climbing to your feet, you looked down at her, wanting to touch and to taste and to melt into her. Her hands were steady as they unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down over your hips. You kicked them off. Her fingers ran along the waistband of your panties, your muscles jumping under her touch.

“I was going to keep you wanting as punishment,” she mused, “but you’ve been so good and I just can’t resist you.”

She lent forward, lips pressing to your lower stomach. Looking up your body, her eyes sparkled.

“You’re irresistible to me, kitten,” she whispered into your skin.

Her fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear, dragging them slowly down your legs. You gasped when her tongue dove between your folds, tasting you, her soft hum going through you like electricity.

“You’re dripping for me,” she said.

Her tongue brushed over your clit, hips jumping towards her. She hummed again, a soft suckle against your bundle of nerves. Your hands landed on her shoulders, gripping tightly to keep your knees from collapsing beneath you.

“Please,” you begged, “Agatha.”

“Come here, pet.”

She positioned you on top of her, knees either side of her lap. When you sunk down onto her cock, you let out a low noise, relieved. Her hands grasped your hips tightly, keeping you there, holding you still. You tried to squirm, pushing your face into the crook of her neck, hiding your embarrassment from her.

“No, no, no, pet. I’m going to watch you unravel,” she said, lips brushing against your temple.

You stayed hidden, hips shifting, until she pinned you down. Held there, full up with her cock, you were a live wire, desperate and needy and losing your mind.

“If you want me to fuck you, you know what you have to do,” Agatha murmured, grip on you tightening.

Your shame wasn’t comparable to your need. You emerged from your hiding place, looking down at her, cheeks heating from the expression of raw desire on her face.

“That’s my good pet,” she said.

Her hands guided you up, just an inch, before pulling you down again. It wasn’t enough, but you couldn’t do anything but clutch at her shoulders. She was in complete control, you were nothing but hers to do with as she pleased. She watched you with greedy eyes, drinking in everything.

Your hips rocked against her, taking her strap as deep as it would go. You clenched around it, not able to help yourself. She’d brought you towards the edge too many times. All you could think about was giving in and doing anything you could to get your orgasm.

Bouncing on her cock, your fingers dug into her shoulder. The way she looked at you was pure liquid heat, eyes blown wide as you kept saying her name over and over again. Your head tipped back, exposing your throat to her. Her lips attached, as you knew they would, painting such pretty bruises on your skin.

Her fingers found your clit again, stroking you as you rode her as hard as she’d let you. You were a gasping mess atop her, chasing your orgasm with wild abandon. She wasn’t soft with you, taking everything she wanted, all you were willing to give, rough and demanding. She growled into your skin, teeth sinking in, fingers pressing bruises into your flesh. You were a wild animal, crying her name, clawing at her, wound so tight.

With one stroke, she broke the tension.

Your orgasm crashed into you. Your muscles stiffened, her name a strangled noise, holding on. Her fingers kept stroking you, drawing it out, making it last as long as she could as you milked her cock for all it was worth. The aftershocks kept you twitching as you fell forward, her arms catching you, gasping out your thanks to her.

She kissed your forehead, hair sticking to sweat coated skin. You pushed closer, wanting to feel her heart beat in time with yours. Her hands were running over your skin, along the line of your spine under your shirt, lips brushing over every inch of you she could reach.

You reached for her face, blindly pulling her into a kiss, soft and sated and relaxed. The way she kissed you back was nothing short of a claiming, kissing you deeper and deeper. With her still buried in you, all you could do was mewl, fingers pushing past the pins in her hair, clutching at her.

“Did you enjoy yourself, kitten?” she asked when she drew away.

“Yes,” you breathed, a whisper in the air shared between the two of you, faces still so close together.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are when you’re cumming on my cock?” she murmured, “how did I get so lucky to capture you?”

It was the most sentimental thing she’d ever said to you. You felt yourself melting. Your lips brushed hers, so gentle it made your heart ache.

“I should come to your classes more often,” you said.

Her chuckle sent your heart racing again.

“Clearly you haven’t learnt your lesson,” she said, “I knew I shouldn’t have indulged you.”

“Why did you?” you asked, nuzzling closer.

Her hands were still caressing your skin and you felt her breath ghost over your temple. Her kiss was soft, nose brushing over your skin, tongue darting out to taste you for a just a moment.

“Because I can’t say no to you, kitten. Not really,” she murmured and you wondered if you were actually meant to hear it.

She let you stay curled around her for longer than you’d expected, on her lap, arms curled around your body. Your eyelids fluttered shut. Every time she moved you felt her strap shift within you. The way the heat of pleasure settled under your skin was pleasant, not desperate yet, but comforting and soft and warm. Familiar. You felt safe and cared for, right there in her lap and in her arms.

“You should probably get dressed,” she said after some time had passed.

“Don’t wanna,” you replied, lips brushing her throat from your spot against her body.

“I’m all for you staying right here but I didn’t lock the door and if someone comes in they might have questions,” she said, “questions I’m happy to answer about bad girls needing discipline but you might not want everyone to know you can’t follow simple orders.”

“I can follow orders,” you protested.

“Then get dressed, pet” she said.

You whimpered when she slipped out of you, feeling empty without her cock inside you. She lent forward, snatching up your underwear before you could. She shoved them in the pocket of her trousers as she tugged them back into place, looking for all the world like she hadn’t just been inside you.

You dragged your jeans up your legs. She carefully buttoned them up for you, fingers brushing your skin. The look in her eye when she looked up at you was so full of something it took your breath away. You wished you could name it but all you knew was it made you feel like you’d been dunked in oil and set alight. It only got stronger as you buttoned up her shirt, hiding the lace from view again. Your fingers lingered in the dip between her her collarbones, such a vulnerable spot, so soft under your fingertips.

“Go on, pet. I know you have work to be getting on with,” she said, gently pushing your hand away.

“But I’m so tired,” you whined.

“Don’t be a brat,” she scolded but there was a twinkle in her eye, “I’m not sure you could handle any more punishment today.”

You held out just long enough to let her know you were thinking about it. You dropped onto the sofa, doing exactly what she’d told you. More work. Always more work on your thesis.

But you couldn’t wait for the next time she brought you to class with her.

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Vil Schoenheit

Cliché: The Airport (Dark Mirror?) Confession

Others: Leona ; Azul ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

Vil had told you last week about his upcoming movie shoot in another country. He’d casually mentioned he'd be gone for a little while, which you’d taken in stride. After all, he was a famous actor—it wasn't like he was leaving forever. At least, that’s what you thought. But Rook had other ideas.

“Oh, mon ami,” Rook sighed dramatically the day before Vil’s departure, “how brave you are. Truly a testament to love, to be able to bear such a tragic farewell without shedding a single tear! Many would crumble under the thought of not seeing their beloved for years.”

You blinked, pausing mid-bite of your sandwich. “Years?”

Rook nodded, his eyes misting over, clearly lost in some inner poetic monologue. “Oui, it may well be years before we see Roi du Poison’s radiant visage again. Some might say he is embarking on an odyssey, one that will only return him to our shores once he’s ascended to an even greater pinnacle of fame.”

“Y-Years?” you echoed, a pit forming in your stomach.

“Bien sûr!” Rook leaned in, whispering with all the seriousness of a tragic romance novel. “In showbiz, a project could take ages—rewrites, reshoots, promotional tours... Why, he may even settle abroad to cultivate his craft.”

You dropped your sandwich, horror dawning as the words hit you with full force. Your mind went into overdrive. Vil... leaving? Maybe forever? You pictured months, even years of unanswered texts, long-distance video calls, and eventually, just fading away from each other’s lives.

You couldn’t take it! And if he was leaving, you had to make it clear that he’d be leaving someone who would do anything for him.

Which was why, mere minutes before Vil was set to leave, you were charging across campus, heart pounding and absolutely zero plan in mind.

He was standing in front of the Mirror of Darkness, his poise immaculate as always. His entourage surrounded him, but you were zeroed in on only one thing: making sure he knew you would sacrifice anything to keep him.

He was taking a few moments to pose with his usual elegance, utterly unaware that you were barreling toward him with all the grace of a charging rhinoceros.

“Vil!” you yelled, gaining speed as you neared him. He turned, brows raised just slightly before you flung yourself into his arms, nearly sending him toppling over.

“Please,” you blurted, “don’t go!”

Vil’s face softened, and he looked about to speak, but you were already mid-rant, words tumbling out in a fevered rush.

“Vil, I swear, I’ll change my entire skincare routine if you want! Every day, double cleanse, essence, eye cream—I’ll use every serum, sheet mask, and exfoliant you recommend.” You grabbed his hands, clutching them tightly. “And if it’s my diet, I’ll cut out carbs or sugar or whatever you want! I’ll even drink green juice, Vil!”

His eyes widened in something like amusement, but you didn’t give him a chance to interject.

“Please, just don’t leave forever. I don’t care how famous you get or how much international recognition comes your way, or how you’ll become the new face of high fashion—I’ll do anything. I love you, Vil. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Just. Stay."

Vil blinked, clearly stunned, but before you could spiral into another tirade, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, breathtaking kiss. It was enough to shut you up instantly, and when he finally pulled back, he looked at you with an exasperated but deeply affectionate smile.

“Darling,” he said, brushing a hand down your cheek with a chuckle, “I’m really only leaving for two weeks.”

“Oh.” You stared up at him, cheeks flushing red as his words sank in.

“Two weeks,” he repeated, laughing softly, and his face lit up in a way you’d never seen before—completely unguarded, genuinely amused, and utterly, hopelessly in love.

Your flustered mumbling was drowned out by his gentle laughter. “So… all that talk about green juice and sheet masks…” His chuckle turned into a full laugh, rich and uninhibited, echoing through the hall as a dozen phones captured the moment.

He gave you a lingering kiss, entirely unconcerned with the crowd, before pressing his forehead to yours. “You really thought I’d leave you forever?” he whispered, a teasing sparkle in his eye. “Oh, my sweet, melodramatic potato.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, hiding your face in his shoulder as your embarrassment finally caught up to you.

By the time he returned two weeks later, it was all anyone on campus could talk about. The candid video of him gazing at you, laugh lines softened, love written all over his face—it had gone viral. Even Vil was taken by surprise at how the internet had swooned over the whole scene, declaring you both the new “It Couple” of NRC.

And if Vil noticed the way his likes had outpaced Neige’s on Magicam, well, he wasn’t above a little bragging.

He’d make a show of it too, asking Mira each morning, “Who’s the most popular couple on Magicam?” And every time, he would grin, smugly satisfied with the answer.

And if anyone dared ask him how he got so much traction on his account lately, he’d just smile, gaze in your direction, and shrug with feigned innocence.

Masterlist

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 H.S.K.T huh yunjin x reader

🥣⊹ ❝have you seen a woman like this before? I got what you need❞ - lee hi

↳ warnings idol!au, katseye!yn, swearing, fluff, cuteness I promise no angst

yunjin would never admit to being a playgirl or bad at relationships, but anyone who’s been involved with her would likely tell a different story.

she just couldn’t bring herself to commit to anyone. being an idol meant constantly being on the move, and she never felt the need to be tied down. with that mindset, she’d definitely broken a few hearts along the way, earning herself a bit of a reputation.

and she never really cared about the reputation, why should she? at least people knew what they were getting into. so what if she’d broken a few hearts? that wasn’t her problem. it’s not like she was looking to commit to anyone anyway.

boy, did those words bite her in the ass.

when yunjin first laid her eyes on yn it was through her introduction for the dream academy, she was pretty, like idol pretty, yunjin knew right away that fans would be drawn to her and vote for her without a doubt.

and seeing yn in person? don’t even get her started. yunjin was mesmerized. she vividly remembers stumbling over her words every time their eyes met while giving the girls advice, earning confused looks from her members.

hybe idols weren’t allowed to vote for contestants, but that didn’t stop yunjin from secretly voting for yn in every mission.

she was drawn to yn, so drawn that she completely lost it when she found out yn had secretly swapped numbers with sakura to get advice from someone who’d been in the industry for years.

“give me her number,” yunjin demanded, glaring at the older member, who looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“no.”

“why?” yunjin whined, throwing herself face first into a pillow.

“because I know you,” sakura said firmly. “and I’m not letting you mess with this innocent girl.”

“wha—wha—” yunjin sputtered, lifting her head in protest.

“I said no,” sakura repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.

yunjin needed another way to get in contact with yn. she spent weeks trying to figure it out, but every option seemed like a dead end. the contestants had their dms turned off on instagram, so that was out of the question.

but then the day finally came yn’s name was announced. the smile that spread across yunjin’s face in that moment was impossible to miss.

the plan was simple and smooth. she’d slide into yn’s dms, shower her with compliments, casually suggest that yoonchae and eunchae should exchange numbers and be friends, butter her up a little, and boom, yn would be on a plane to korea to visit her.

let’s just say it did not go as smoothly as she hoped.

she was hit with this.

sakura told me not answer you.

charming but now that I’m under hybe I’ve heard about you jennifer…

I’ll give you yoonchae’s number for eunchae tho 🫶

yunjin couldn’t believe it, her playgirl reputation was finally catching up to her, just as she was starting to see where something could actually go with someone.

nah.

she refuses to let this get in the way of her getting that girl.

she just needed another plan.

“unnie you sound crazy.” eunchae said watching yunjin pace in front of her.

“I sound crazy, genius,” yunjin shot back. “so here’s the plan you’re going to find out from yoonchae when they start doing promotions in korea, and you’re also going to slip in some nice things about me. can you do that?”

“uh…”

“if yoonchae approves of me, that’ll help. but I’m worried about sophia—she’s the one I need to win over. I’ll text her, make myself seem perfect... they all seem kinda protective of her, don’t they? I just need an in. I’m charming, I can easily win her over. and then there’s sakura unnie—she’s getting in the way,” yunjin rambled, already plotting her next move.

yunjin was determined to make her move. when katseye finally arrived in korea for their promotional activities, she wasted no time.

every day, she tried something new whether it was a flirty comment, a lingering touch, or a perfectly timed compliment but each time, someone would interrupt, and it always seemed like the universe was conspiring against her.

it started the very first day, in the hallway of the music show venue. yunjin was walking towards the stage when she spotted yn in the distance, standing by the snack table, talking to megan and manon. she couldn’t resist. she approached with a confident stride, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"hey yn," yunjin said smoothly, leaning in just a little too close, "you’ve been looking even more pretty since you got here."

yn raised an eyebrow but didn't seem fazed. "oh? is that so?"

before yunjin could reply, she heard a voice from behind her. "yunjin, stop bothering her," sakura called out from the other side of the hallway, arms crossed, her usual stern expression on her face. "can’t you see she’s busy?"

yunjin shot a frustrated look at sakura, who was already guiding yn back towards the group, while manon and megan followed, yunjin sighed and glanced at the floor, cursing under her breath.

later that night, after a long day of rehearsals, the two groups went out to eat at a popular bbq spot.

yunjin made sure to sit as close to yn as possible, her hand casually brushing against hers when she reached for the sauce. she smiled at yn, her usual flirtatious charm back in full force.

"you know, it’s funny," yunjin began, her voice low as she leaned in just a bit. "I’ve been thinking about you a lot. it's like you’ve got some sort of pull on me."

yn turned to her, playing with her chopsticks, a teasing grin creeping across her face. "oh really? and what kind of pull is that?"

just as yunjin was about to answer, a loud voice interrupted them. "yunjin, you’re blocking the sauce," kazuha said, not looking up from her plate, though she clearly noticed the interaction.

yunjin let out a long sigh, slumping in her seat. "seriously? can’t you guys let me have a moment?"

yn chuckled, clearly amused by yunjin’s frustration. "I’ve been complaining about you interrupting me all day but seems like you’re the one being interrupted."

"yeah, no kidding," yunjin muttered, but she didn’t give up. every glance she sent yn’s way was full of intent.

a couple of days later, they all went out to a late night cafe after finishing their schedule.

the atmosphere was more relaxed, all the girls scattered in little groups and yunjin took the opportunity to close in once again. she spotted yn sitting with manon and sophia laughing at something, and made her way over.

"sophia, you mind if I steal yn for a minute?" yunjin asked, flashing a bright smile at the girl, who seemed a little too amused by the situation.

"sure," sophia said, almost too casually getting up from her seat, she gave yn a knowing look before waving her off. "but remember, she’s not just anyone." manon added in a teasing voice, following behind sofia.

yunjin’s grin only widened as she slid into the seat beside yn. "I don’t need to be told twice," she said, her tone playful.

"wow, you’re persistent," yn teased, nudging yunjin lightly with her elbow.

"that’s because I know how to handle challenges," yunjin replied with a smirk. "and you are quite the challenge."

just as the conversation was taking a more flirty turn, eunchae wandered over, almost dragging yoonchae behind her. "isn’t it late?" eunchae asked, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. "yunjin unnie, we have practice early tomorrow."

yunjin rolled her eyes but stood up, a playful grin on her face. "I guess this isn’t meant to be."

yn watched her with amusement in her eyes. "maybe you’ll get your moment eventually," she teased, though her tone was softer, almost encouraging.

days passed, and yunjin’s frustration grew. she kept trying to get yn alone, but every time, something or someone would pop up. and then, just a couple of days before katseye was scheduled to return to la, it happened.

yunjin found herself alone with yn, just the two of them walking down the hallway, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

"yn," yunjin said, her voice suddenly serious. "I know my reputation isn’t the best. I’ve got this whole image.. but I want you to know... I want you. and I want this. I know it’s a mess, but I can’t stop thinking about you. since I first saw you on that introduction screen, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind."

yn paused, her smile faltering for just a moment. she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms “you’ve got quite the reputation yunjin, I’m kind of scared.”

yunjin’s heart raced. "I’m not playing games, yn. I’m serious. just... let me show you. let me prove it."

yn bit her lip, her eyes searching yunjin’s face for sincerity. after a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice playful but knowing. "alright, one chance, yunjin. but that’s all you get."

“one chance is all I need.” yunjin said a sly smile making its way to her face.

"just know, you're gonna be the one telling everyone about us," yn replied, her tone teasing. "no one actually thought i'd give in, it’s just been all fun and games for them.”

the smile on yunjin's face faltered, her confidence momentarily slipping. "what?"

yn's grin widened as she took a step back, glancing over her shoulder. "have fun telling sakura," she sang, her voice light with amusement.

and with that, yn turned and walked ahead, leaving yunjin standing in the hallway.

“shit.”

[k1mbe3rly]

Could you do something with sub namgyu maybe? Like he gets forced into submission

yess🥵🥵 LMFAOO sorry i was crashing out for hours but im back in mind 🙄 out of sight out of mind 😈

Desperate

warnings: smut, sub!namgyu x fem!dom reader, begging, slight leg humping (out of squid games)

Nam-gyu just came home from his job as a club promoter, he sighed as he looked over seeing you on the couch on your phone, he’s guessing you also just came home from work which you did, despising your wrinkled white button up t shirt untucked from your knee above skirt

He went up from behind the couch and looking over your shoulder, “Hey i’m home” he said whispering in your ear, you weren’t really in the mood since you had a bad day at work so you kinda brushed him off and just nodded, he looked over at you in confusion

He hummed as he moved your hair the other side of your side and nuzzled his face in your neck inhaling your scent, he smirked softly as he begin kissing your neck, “Can you stop? i’m not really in the mood..” you said as you sighed, “Than i’ll turn your frown..upside down” he said chuckling at his own joke and kept kissing your neck slightly sucking on it

“I’m serious Nam-gyu.. not today okay? maybe tomorrow” you said trying to move away but he placed his hands on your shoulder, “Come on..it’ll be fun. I promise baby” he said licking your neck a bit, you groaned and shoved his face away as he whined out and went around the couch and sitting next to you, “What? what’s wrong huh? your usually so needy” he said looking at you, you crossed your arms and looked at him

“Okay well not today, i had a bad day at work.” you said lazily. He hummed a simple understanding, “I can.. change that” he said quietly a bit, you raised your eyebrow and smirked softly “and how are you gonna do that huh?” you said sitting up a bit, “Let me do my job, you’ll be satisfied..” he said slowly getting on his knees infront of you.

He slowly opened your legs and traveled his hands to the edge of your skirt, you quickly gripped on his wrist with a serious expression, “You really don’t know when to stop huh. i told you i wasn’t in the mood didn’t i?” you said still gripping his wrist, he winced slightly “Baby- chill! i’m sorry.” he said scrunching his eyebrows a bit, “Show me your sorry.” you said releasing his wrist as he got up, he smirked a bit

He unbuckled his pants getting rid of his belt and unbuttoning his pants, before pulling them down he grabbed both your legs spreading them and again putting his hands in your skirt, you quickly stopped him again “No. your not gonna fuck me, find another way.. or beg for it.” you said closing your legs, he looked at you with a confused face “Seriously? but that’s not even my place!” he said, “excuse me? either that or you get nothing” you said back, he scoffed “I’m not begging! you know how.. dumb I’ll look!?” he said, “fine by me, i’m not the one trying to have sex” you said shrugging and going back to your phone. He sighed and sat down.

It didn’t take long for him to give in or whatever, so that’s how he ended up on the floor, whining for you, and humping your leg without any pants on, he moved his hips against your leg, his clothed cock rubbing against you. “Please..? i’m sorry okay? can i please just fuck you?” he said still keeping his movements against you, you faked a yawned “boring..babe i don’t know..im getting kinda sleepy..” you said, he whined out again a almost cry and choked out whine “Baby please! i need you! please!! i’ll do all the work i swear! i just need to be inside you!” he said clinging on to your leg, he quickly moved off your leg, picking up one leg and kissing down to your heels.

He slowly took off your heel, kissing your foot a bit (bare with me 😢🙏), and he kissed back up, he went your other leg doing the exact same and placing your heels somewhere else, he than looked up at you “Please? its the most you can do..” he said, “The most i can do?” you questioned. “not like that! baby please! please im begging like you said!” he said whining, “fine..you can only eat me out, than i’ll see how i feel after.” you said ruffling his hair that became a bit messy, he quickly lifted your skirt high enough and slid your panties off

he smiled up at you “Thank you..” he whispered as he spread your legs and quickly put his head between giving your clit a kiss, and slowly sucked on it, you let out a moan as he kept sucking on your clit, he said licked on it, be moved his tongue around and inside, you moaned out shutting your eyes putting your legs on his shoulders, he held onto your thighs as he continued eating you out, you kept moaning and gasping as your hands went to his hair, gripping and tugging on his hair, he let out a low growl and kept e shoving his tongue and managed suck a bit on your clit, he than rubbed your clit with his thumb, soft slurping sounds and moans filled the room as you finally cummed inside his mouth as he swallowed, he cleaned your cunt with his tongue and finally backed up gasping. “Holy fuck baby.. you taste so good” he said looking up and wiping his mouth a bit, you were a bit dumb founded.

“mm-…” you mumbled out, not long after you were riding him on the couch, your hands on his shoulders moaning as nam-gyu moaned, honestly first time hearing him moan was magical, so adorable and it turned you on even more, he gripped on your hips letting out choked gasps and moans, “a-agh~ fuckk baby..s-so tight!!” he moaned out, you moaned out as you begin bouncing on him your tits bouncing inside your button up shirt, he slowly traveled his hands to the buttons and begin unbuttoning them and pulled down your bra and gripped on your tits, he kept moaning out and leaned in whining and moaning into your neck, “Mm! m’gonna cum baby! can i? can i cum inside you baby please!” he panted out as he played with your tits a bit, i felt his cock twitch inside me “Yea- fuck~ cum with me baby! cum inside me” you said as you bounced a tad bit faster, “augh~!! mm- m’cummingggfhh~!” he basically yelled out as he cummed inside you and quickly after you did as well, you slowed down panting as his cum and yours mixed together.

after you both calmed down you slowly lifted your self and went to the side panting as juices and cum leaked out a bit..”are you okay..?” he said to you as you nodded, yall eventually cleaned up and cuddled to sleep.

[emocheol]

first kiss with seventeen

seungcheol

gets all nervous

has been planning this for weeks

wants it to be so good so bad that he ends up colliding his forehead with yours when he’s going in

gets all red from embarrassment and makes you swear to never tell anyone about it (so of course you tell everyone)

“please tell me that wasn’t the worst first kiss you’ve had”

“well if that’s what you want to hear…”

jeonghan

makes you make the first move

can tell that you’ve been wanting to kiss him since you’re always looking at his lips, just wants to make you work for it

will spend the entire day teasing you by getting close and then pulling away

you have to grab his face and hold him there to finally kiss him

he won’t ever let you live down the fact that technically you made the first move

“you’re obsessed with me, huh?”

“you’ve been teasing me all day!”

“doesn’t change the fact”

joshua

extremely confident

just makes out with you when he feels the timing is right

can’t get enough and will not stop kissing you

becomes a norm in your relationship for him to kiss you every second he gets

“why are you always kissing me?”

“why? can’t i show my partner how much i love them?”

jun

shy shy shy

makes a whole romantic date and at the end he asks if it’s okay to kiss you

is soooo nervous that you’re going to say no, but of course you say yes

swears that fireworks explode when your lips touch

he is so whipped for you

“i think im in love with you”

“what was that?”

“uhhh i think we need more glue!”

soonyoung

gives it no thought

just spontaneously kisses you when he gets extra happy one day

“babe! look our song is number 1!” and presses a bunch of kisses on your lips

all he remembers is how nice it feels to kiss you

continues to kiss you whenever he feels like it and loves it twice as much whenever you initiate it

“soonyoung! you just kissed me!”

“yeah! did you not like it? :(”

“no it’s okay, do it again”

wonwoo

quite simple about it

will pucker his lips at you and wait for you to kiss him

won’t get embarrassed over it either

he’s in love with you! he’s not scared to show his affection

“wonwoo what are you doing?”

“waiting for you to kiss me, angel”

jihoon

heat of the moment kiss

everything feels so right

feels like he’d be doing you a disservice if he didn’t kiss you

is the most gentle man on the planet and holds your face in his hands

will let you take control of the kiss, just this one time

you’ll be grinning like an idiot

“what was that for?”

“just felt right”

minghao

encourages you to kiss him first

you just got promoted at your job and you’re over the moon about it, so you’re celebrating with minghao

“you can kiss me if you want” he’ll say as if it’s the most casual sentence ever

you get all shy and press a sweet kiss to his lips

he’ll take the lead

“don’t be shy, sweetheart”

“you’re just too handsome :(”

mingyu

he’ll be sick and sulking because he wants to go on your planned date but he can’t get out of bed

profusely apologizes but you won’t accept them because it’s not his fault!

when he won’t stop rambling you’ll lean down and kiss him to shut up him

when you pull away he has a dopey smile on his face

“do that again!”

“i can’t risk getting sick…”

“i’ll nurse you back to health”

pulls you down to him, and pecks your lips a bunch of times

seokmin

#1 gentleman

wine and dine

“i totally understand if you’re not ready but, can i kiss you?” SWOON

makes you feel like the most special person on the planet

will still ask you if he can kiss you multiple times after that

“can i kiss you?”

“seokmin we’ve been together for a year”

“doesn’t hurt to ask!”

seungkwan

smooth so so smooth

you’ll be playing a game and the prize is the winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want

seungkwan wins (of course)

pretends to think about what he wants even though he knows

“kiss me”

“what?!”

“i won so i want you to kiss me”

cue you being a blushing mess and giving seungkwan a light kiss

vernon

gets home from work one day and kisses you when he walks through the door

you’re shocked and he’s acting like it’s an every day occurrence

doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it

(he’s secretly been wanting to kiss you for weeks)

“what was that for?”

“just missed you, baby”

this becomes a regular occurrence when he gets home from work now

chan

nervous as hell

wants to be smooth and he is!

until he’s not

accidentally bites your tongue (a/n: i have had a man bite my tongue before and it hurt for a week)

profusely apologies but he’s such a cutie, how can you be mad?

“i’m so sorry, do you want me to get ice?”

“no, chan, just kiss me again”

does it right this time

[callmeagardengnome]

❤︎ office affairs ❤︎ | SONG MINGI

pairings ࿔ mingi x fem! reader

genre ࿔ office au, non-idol au, romance, SLOWW BURNNN

synopsis ࿔ working for a job promotion is the smart thing to do, but working to make song mingi fall in love with you is way more fun.

w.c ࿔ 8.1k

c.w ࿔ suggestive but no smut, mingi likes thighs woops, mutual pining (?) reader watches anime, reader also wears pencil skirts a lot of the time, this is an IT company, light swearing, alcohol, kiss scene

author’s note: this took way too long to finish but im glad its done! also rmbr to like and repost!

not proofread!

other fics

the moment your eyes found song mingi, you knew that he was the one.

okay, ‘the one’ might be extreme, but he definitely caught your attention on your first day.

you applied to ‘ATECH’ after graduating from college, hoping to land a job in one of the top IT companies in the city. you’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time learning how to code and develop software, so imagine the joy you felt when the job offer finally appeared in your inbox.

“over there are the bathrooms,” your boss, hongjoong, said as he pointed to a set of doors at the end of the room. “and this is where you’ll be working,” he patted the desk.

“thank you,” you smiled, letting out a quiet groan as you set down the heavy box in your arms.

you looked around. the office was pretty normal, each section had desks right next to each other with the company-issued computer sitting on each one.

you turned back to your desk, your eyes landing on who your deskmate would be - and you swear that your breath was taken away within a second.

he was the definition of your type: neat, built, handsome.

not to mention the way his glasses sat on his face or the button-up shirt he wore that had his sleeves rolled up slightly, exposing his defined forearms. he looked good. impossibly good.

“mingi will be showing you the ropes of the company,” hongjoong began, giving mingi a sharp glare when he was about to protest. “don’t hesitate to ask him for help.”

you nodded. “got it,” you replied, settling into the swivel chair at your desk.

as hongjoong walked away, you heard mingi mumbling something under his breath, but it was too soft for you to catch. he quickly returned back to his work, typing on his keyboard at speeds you didn’t know were possible.

“hey,“ you spoke up, sitting up straighter. “i was wondering if you could help me with-“

“-ask him,” mingi muttered, barely looking away from his computer screen as he pointed lazily to a guy at the next table.

you blinked. “but hongjoong told me to ask you?”

mingi sighed, finally stopping his typing to face you. “i don’t know why he did that. i’m not anyone special, i’ve just been working here for a while.”

mingi then pushed himself back slightly so that you could see who he was pointing to. “wooyoung’s the manager, you should be asking him on how things work.”

“oh.. okay,” you replied slowly. “mingi-“

“-mr song,” he corrected, cutting your sentence short again.

you raised an eyebrow, looking down at the polished nameplate on his desk that read out, ‘SONG MINGI’.

“right.. mr song,” you nodded slowly. “i guess i’ll just do that.”

you ignored the weird exchange and began to unpack your things. after sorting out everything, you decided to find this ‘wooyoung’ guy mingi was talking about earlier - it was actually easier than you thought since he was talking pretty loudly with the person next to him.

you took a deep breath as you walked over to his section, feeling your palms sweat as you wiped them on your pencil skirt. “hey uh..” you trailed off as wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“you’re the new hire?” wooyoung blurted out in surprise as he looked you up and down.

he then blinked and shook his head. “wait shit- that sounded bad.”

wooyoung turned his chair around to face you, waving his hands defensively. “sorry, we don’t normally get girls here- you know, it’s IT. not that it’s never happened but they’re usually.. a lot older.”

“cool..” you chuckled awkwardly, offering a polite smile as you were unsure of how to respond. “well, mr song said that i should ask you for help.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened even more than before. “mr song?” he said a little too loudly, making a few people glance in your direction - though wooyoung didn’t seem care. “did hongjoong tell you to call him that?”

you shook your head. “no? he corrected me when i called him by his name.”

“oh…

my…

god.”

wooyoung busted out laughing. “i’ve never heard anyone call him mr song- even jongho doesn’t! and he just started working here last month!”

“wait really? then why-?”

“-it’s definitely a kink thing,” wooyoung muttered to the guy next to him, who you now noticed was watching the whole interaction.

“what was that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nothing, nothing,” wooyoung waved it off, still chuckling. “anyway, this is yeosang. if you ever need anything just come to either of us. we’ll help you out.”

yeosang nodded politely, giving you a small smile. “nice to meet you. welcome to the company.”

“thanks..” you responded, bowing slightly. “nice to meet you too.”

soon enough, you found yourself sitting between them - with wooyoung desperately trying to teach you the company software (though he was messing up terribly) while yeosang corrected him at every step, trying to fix his mistakes. the two eventually got into a mini argument as you sat there awkwardly, watching two grown men argue on whether to press the ‘s’ or ‘z’ key.

you eventually spaced out, looking around the office. your eyes landed on song mingi once more, watching how focused he was on whatever he was doing.

the more you looked at him, the more boxes he ticked in your books. but this rigid character of his was going to be an issue if you wanted anything to happen. you cracked your fingers, and only one thing was on your mind as you turned away from mingi.

you were going to break through that ‘serious’ personality of his.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

you’ve learnt two things about mingi during your first month of working at ATECH.

number one: he seemed pretty reserved - at least, when you’re around.

it was a little odd. whenever you were nearby, mingi was quiet, silent even. but the moment you were out of sight or busy, laughter would erupt from his table.

you had a pretty important deadline coming up and you needed to work on it with your full attention. you put on your bluetooth headphones and got straight to work. the music did help you focus, but unfortunately, your headphones died with a loud beep.

annoyed, you took them off, moving to grab a wire to charge them when suddenly - you heard something. talking. coming from none other than your deskmate, mingi.

“no- you don’t understand, the fight scenes are incredible!” mingi exclaimed, almost jumping off of his chair. “the animation alone is on another level.”

“overrated,” jongho countered, smirking as he leaned back. “mingi, i don’t know why you keep recommending anime to me. i only watched one episode because you forced me to.”

mingi rolled his eyes. “you don’t get it- episode four is gonna change your life.”

it took everything in you to not laugh out loud. you’ve never seen mingi so passionate about something - and it was about anime of all things.

not that there was anything wrong with it - hell, you watched it. it’s just that seeing mingi so invested and defensive was.. kind of cute. maybe you should give the show a go.

but in the middle of mingi’s rambling, jongho yawned and suddenly glanced in your direction, giving you a friendly wave as his grin widened. “hey ‘___’.”

mingi froze mid-sentence, his hands moving to his keyboard almost instantly, the rant coming to an awkward halt. he quickly straightened his back and cleared his throat, acting as if nothing had happened.

jongho raised an eyebrow, clearly holding in a laugh. “you done with that deadline?” he asked.

you blinked. “uh- yeah almost,” you replied with a nervous chuckle.

you turned back to your work quickly, trying to refocus on your attention to your work but it was pretty difficult to ignore the scene playing out beside you.

from the corner of your eye, you could see jongho trying, and failing, to hold in his laughter, his shoulder shaking as he repeatedly hit mingi who was frantically typing on his keyboard like he was trying to forget what happened.

jongho wiped the imaginary tears from his face. “i’ve never seen you like this before.”

number two: he was definitely single.

thanks to your friendship with wooyoung and yeosang, you were spending almost all of your breaks together - which meant that you were always finding out new things about the office.

as the three of you settled down in a nearby food court, wooyoung started yet another rant about the office, but the topic eventually shifted to your coworkers and somehow mingi.

“he’s probably never felt the touch of a woman,” wooyoung snorted, leaning back into the chair.

yeosang immediately smacked wooyoung on the arm. “don’t say that, he’s our friend..”

“..but yeah, that’s probably true,” yeosang shrugged, slurping the noodles in his bowl.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “you guys make it sound like he’s so strange.”

“he is. he’s so weird around you,” wooyoung said, waving his fry around. “i swear- it’s like he’s never met a girl that can code or something.”

you sighed, stirring your iced coffee. “maybe he’s shy.”

“shy?!” the both of them exclaimed in unison, their wide eyes blinking at you.

“he is not shy,” wooyoung emphasised, to which yeosang nodded violently to his statement.

wooyoung took a sip of his soda before clearing his throat. “you should’ve seen him before you got here. he’d laugh at every dumbass joke we made. and now? he’s basically a robot.”

yeosang made a sound of agreement, wiping his mouth before adding, “i mean- he’s probably not used to women being in the office.”

“yeah, especially if they're young and actually, you know-” wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows at you, earning another smack from yeosang.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up.”

wooyoung shrugged with a grin, taking a bite out of his fry. “i’m just saying it how it is.”

you chugged your iced coffee. “is there anyway i can- i don’t know, get to know him better?” you asked as you looked at your coworkers. “how do i make him…”

you trailed off, resisting the urge to ask ‘how do i make him like me’, knowing that wooyoung would probably make fun of you.

you sighed, settling for a, “how do i make him not a dickhead?”

“i mean…” wooyoung bit his cheek, quickly glancing at yeosang before turning back to you. “you could try making out-?”

“wooyoung!” yeosang exclaimed. “we need to give her actual advice. she’s gonna be working here for a while.”

“fine, fine,” wooyoung rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you. “honestly? you want to get closer to him?”

you nodded, maybe a little too eagerly, making wooyoung smirk as he continued, “just talk about anime. trust me, once he gets started, he won’t shut up.”

you and yeosang chuckled. “noted,” you smiled.

“i’m being serious,” wooyoung leaned in even closer, his eyes bigger than before. “i would love to see the look on his face when he finds out that girls who code and watch anime exist.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

even though the whole office knew how awkward you and mingi were around each other, it wasn’t enough to stop hongjoong from pairing you two up for whatever work he had.

the two of you were tasked with test-running the company’s latest software before it was handed off to the client. you spent the next hour sifting through its features and finally, you found a bug.

“mr song,” you called, barely looking away from your screen. “can you come here? i found something weird.”

mingi rolled his chair over to your desk, glancing at the screen as you hovered your mouse over a link.

“so when i click here,” you explained. “it brings me to an error page. i tried all the reboot methods and it still won’t work.”

mingi leaned in a little closer to see the issue. “okay, that might be because-“ he began, but suddenly started to trail off.

you raised an eyebrow, noticing how he wasn’t really looking at the screen anymore. you followed his eyes and realised that his gaze had dropped, landing on your legs.

more specifically, on the way your pencil skirt had ridden up a little when you crossed your legs.

you swear that you could see the faintest hint of a blush dusting his cheeks as he stared - and it took a moment for him to catch himself.

“you good?” you tilted your head.

his head snapped back up, eyes wide as he cleared his throat. “shit- sorry,” he stammered, sitting up straighter in his chair as he quickly focused on the screen. “i was just.. thinking.”

you nodded, biting back a smile. “right.. thinking hard about that error, huh?”

“y-yeah,” he stuttered, his words rushed now. “it’s probably an issue with the script- i’ll need to check this out with yunho.”

“sure, you do that,” you replied with a grin, watching as he walked away hurriedly, running his fingers through his hair.

but of course this wouldn’t be the last time you caught mingi like that.

during meetings when the two of you were forced to sit next to one another, you began to notice the way his eyes would drop down whenever you crossed your legs.

or sometimes, you would adjust your skirt and you would feel his attention drifting towards you, only for him to blink repeatedly and turn back to the discussion. it wasn’t obvious, but it happened often enough for you to catch on.

you didn’t want to be delusional. what were the chances that the hot guy in your office you liked was actually interested in you?

you decided to wait for the perfect opportunity to test the theory - and fortunately for you, you didn’t have to wait long.

you were both working late and mingi sat at his desk next to you, trying to explain his thoughts on the layout of the software.

mid-conversation, you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms behind your head with a soft groan. but while doing so, your pencil skirt rode up - a lot.

you pretended like nothing happened as you absentmindedly nodded to whatever he was saying. you could see mingi’s eyes shift downward, his sentence cutting short.

“what were you saying?” you asked, stretching a little more as if the movement was completely natural. you watched as mingi blink back to reality, processing what you said. “you were telling me about the layout.”

mingi cleared his throat, his eyes darting up to your face, then back to his screen when he realised he trailed off once again. “uh- yeah, the layout. it’s good.. it’s just that um- we need to fix the code if we want it to be usable.”

you could see his leg bouncing under the table as he turned back to his computer, his typing slowing down.

“are you okay, mr song?” you asked innocently, drawing out his name just a bit, watching his reaction worsen - his blush deepening and his hands coming to a stop, hovering above his keyboard.

“i’mfine,” mingi said quickly, pushing his glasses back up. he started to type on his keyboard once more, completely avoiding eye contact with you.

you smiled to yourself, giving him a hum of acknowledgment as you turned back to your screen.

so he likes thighs, huh?

oh this is getting fun.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

mingi might actually be going insane.

he never realised how bad he was at talking to women - at least, not until you joined the company.

working at ATECH for six years taught him to keep his distance with new hires. watching friends come and go because of the draining job made it seem pointless to make friends with people who might disappear at any moment.

you were no exception. to mingi, you were just another person behind a computer. so even though you were seated right next to him, he barely made an attempt to acknowledge you. what was the point when you’d probably be gone soon? at least, that’s what he told himself.

mingi didn’t want to get attached.

he had to draw the line somewhere. he’d already betrayed his own words of ‘not getting close to anyone new’ with jongho, who only joined a few months ago yet managed to find himself a soft spot in mingi’s heart.

that was already enough for mingi to double down on his ‘professional’ act to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

when you started, he would give dry answers to whatever questions you had, hoping that you would keep your distance from him. but for some reason, the more he avoided you, the more he found himself paying attention to you.

not to mention how you were insanely gorgeous - which messed with him. a lot.

when you first joined, mingi was confused of why you picked IT to be your job of choice instead of modeling, acting or anything of that sort. but he quickly understood why you entered the industry when he saw the way you coded. it was way beyond any expectations he had.

so not only were you impossibly beautiful, you knew how to code well.

whenever you had to work together or you had a question to ask him, mingi would catch himself straightening his back, doing anything to hide his image of being the nerdy, anime obsessed guy in the office.

mingi knew it was ridiculous. he barely knew you and yet he felt this insane urge to impress you. he didn’t even know why he told you to call him ‘mr song’.

he had never done that before. it just slipped out, like he was trying to seem professional. though, it just made things more awkward.

but the worst part of it all would be those pencil skirts you always wore to work.

you seemed to have a wide range of them, he noticed. some days they would be neutral colours, some days they would be bright and patterned.

he never thought that something as simple as a pencil skirt could derail him of all the thoughts and human decency in his mind. yet there he was, looking at the way your things pressed against each other as you shifted in your chair or how the fabric lifted up ever so slightly-

-god, he felt like a pervert.

he didn’t know exactly when he started to pay attention to your attire or how your skirt hugged you in a way that left him stunned. was it when you had to work together on that one test-run? or during all those boring meetings the company had?

well, not that it mattered. all mingi knew was that he wanted- no, needed to stop being distracted by you.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

“shit, i’m late for work,” you muttered through your teeth as you turned off your alarm. you quickly put on your clothes, grabbing your bag as you slammed the door open and headed out the house.

you unfortunately reached the office half an hour late. you were nearly out of breath as you rushed to your desk. as you slid into your seat, you noticed mingi’s gaze on you, looking.. relieved?

you logged in, pretending not to notice his eyes on you. you began to get started on your work, hoping to make up for lost time.

but just as you began to focus, wooyoung strolled over to you, leaning against your desk with a smirk.

“you’re late,” wooyoung tilted his head.

you looked at him with a deadpanned expression. “you’ve been late three times this week.”

wooyoung grinned, grabbing a random chair nearby and plopped himself between you and mingi. he began to talk about some ‘crazy’ thing he was going to do on the weekend, acting as a podcast as you coded.

just then, wooyoung’s attention shifted to your phone, which suddenly lit up with a notification, revealing your lock screen - a character from the anime that mingi had been talking about.

“wait..” wooyoung leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “is that anime?”

you glanced down at your phone, nodding. “yeah, i’m kind of hooked right now.”

wooyoung raised an eyebrow, turning to mingi then back at you. “don’t tell me he converted you into one of his anime minions..” he pointed to your deskmate.

mingi sputtered, completely thrown off by the conversation that he was suddenly involved in. “what? no, i didn’t- she just-“ he stumbled over his words, his face heating up.

you smacked wooyoung’s arm. “i did hear him talk about the show, but i got into anime itself on my own.”

jongho, who happened to pass by your desks as you said that, stopped. “you guys are talking about anime?” jongho looked at mingi with a wide grin on his face. “didn’t know anime recs were the new pick-up lines these days.”

wooyoung smirked as he leaned closer to mingi. “so she’s a weeb and can code. mr song, does that do anything for you?” he teased.

mingi’s face was now a shade of bright red and he kept his eyes locked onto the computer screen, avoiding any eye contact. “i didn’t even say anything to her about it..” he mumbled.

after wooyoung and jongho continued to tease him, they eventually walked away to do their own work. you glanced over at mingi, tilting your head when you realised that he had already been looking at you.

he turned away quickly, clearly flustered as he muttered, “don’t.. don’t listen to them.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

“have you done the surveys hongjoong sent in the group chat?” you spoke up, your voice echoing in the quiet office.

mingi blinked. the two of you had to work overtime again to complete a piece of software that a client wanted. he didn’t even realise how late it was until he looked at the time.

“he sent surveys?” mingi asked, raising an eyebrow.

you nodded, holding out your phone to him. “its all about ‘staff satisfaction’ and other bullshit like that. he’s forcing everyone to get it done quick so you should get started.” you turned back to your computer, putting your phone on the desk.

mingi watched as you returned back to work, but there was one thing that he couldn’t get his eyes off of - your lock screen.

he couldn’t stop thinking about how you were paying attention to that conversation. he had to admit that the fact that you actually took his recommendation did make his heart flutter slightly.

mingi’s fingers rested on the keyboard. ‘don’t say anything,’ he told himself. but then again… you liked anime?

his mouth moved before he could even think. “did you finish episode four yet?”

you looked at him, not knowing what he was referring to until you saw that he was staring at your phone screen. “mhm, i actually finished episode six yesterday. i can’t stop watching it.”

“wait, six?” he turned his chair to face you completely. “so you saw the fight scene right? and that whole backstory part?”

you nodded excitedly, matching his enthusiasm. “yes! and the twist with that guy’s brother? insane,” you replied.

“right? i told jongho it was genius,” mingi continued, words spilling out of him way faster that he could control them. “and there’s this one part- wait i can’t spoil it.. uh, but just know that it’s a whole new level.”

only now and then mingi realised how ‘out of character’ he got with you, especially when he saw the way you were watching him. your eyes sparkling with interest as you leaned in, actually listening to whatever he was saying.

and for a second, he couldn’t look away.

his heart stuttered and suddenly, he was back in his own head. what was he doing? he forced himself to turn back to his computer, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“well- uh.. anyway. we should probably get back to work..” he said, leaving you confused of what made him stop.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

“alright, i think that’s everything,” hongjoong said, shutting his laptop. “you guys can head home.”

the sudden meeting your boss called dragged on a lot longer than anyone thought. so the moment it ended, everyone around you got up immediately, hurriedly packing their things.

suddenly, hongjoong realised something. “oh, i need someone to print out these reports by tomorrow morning.”

you barely had time to react before his eyes landed on you, then mingi who was almost out of the door.

“mingi, you’re familiar with the printer setup right?” hongjoong asked with a smirk. he then turned to you. “this is a good chance to teach our new hire how we handle our documents.”

both you and mingi let out identical, disappointed sighs - your frustrations perfectly in sync.

everyone, including you, knew that the printing room was a nightmare - old, dusty, falling apart and tucked away in a corner of the office building that was farthest away from the entrance.

“of course,” mingi muttered, his voice flat. “the printing room.”

hongjoong gave a shrug. “it’s not that bad,” he said, obviously lying.

you swore quietly but gave a polite nod to your boss. “got it. anything else?”

“nope, just the reports. shouldn’t take too long,” hongjoong replied as he grabbed his things, heading to the door. “thanks guys!”

with a collective sigh, you took your notepad and followed mingi - who was already sluggishly moving his feet to the printing room.

he pushed the door open, the musty smell of old paper and ink greeting the both of you instantly. “why hasn’t anyone fixed this place yet?” he asked, mostly to himself as he used his hand to cover his nose.

you stepped inside, wrinkling your nose. “because no one comes here unless they need to?”

“right,” mingi muttered. he flipped the light switch, the fluorescent bulbs taking a moment to stop flickering.

the room was cramped and small. dust floated lazily in the air and the ancient printer hummed ominously at the end of the room.

“let’s get this over with,” you said, putting your stuff on an unstable metal shelf.

mingi took out his phone, looking for the files that hongjoong sent him. he glanced at the printer, then at you as he sighed. “i can load the paper. you can.. figure out how to make the rest work.”

“gee thanks,” you said sarcastically as you rolled up your sleeves.

mingi eventually taught you how to use the printer, which took a lot more steps than its modern-day versions. the sounds of each page churning out filled the silence in the small room.

when it was done, you reached for the stack of printed sheets as mingi went straight for the door.

but just then, there was a metallic clatter. you turn around to see the doorknob lying and rolling on the ground.

“you’re kidding me,” mingi muttered. he crouched down to pick it up, but the doorknob was useless. the door was jammed shut. completely.

the room was barely big enough to fit the both of you and now you were stuck here? it couldn’t get worse than this, could it?

mingi sent a text to yunho to come to the printing room to let the both of you out. even though he already heading home, he told you both to be patient while he made his way back.

soon enough, the both of you settled on the floor to wait. mingi sat with his knees close to his chest. when you sat across from him, your knee bumped against his, making him freeze slightly.

you crossed your legs, adjusting your skirt as you do, but you catch mingi glancing before quickly looking away, pink dusting his cheeks.

he cleared his throat, reaching for a nearby clipboard on the shelf and offering it to you. “uh, you can use this if you uh- if you need to cover up or anything..”

you raised an eyebrow, a smile forming on your face. “thank you,” you said, accepting it.

the room falls silent once more and the buzzing of the lights above began to become louder.

mingi shifted a little, clearly hyper-aware of how close you were. you could hear his breathing getting faster, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

after a while, he fumbled with his phone, typing another message to yunho. you watched as his fingers tapped quickly on the screen, slipping a couple of times.

you bit the inside of your cheek. “do i make you uncomfortable?” you asked once he slid his phone into his pocket.

mingi’s head snapped up at your question, his eyes widening as they met yours. “what?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

you leaned back against the wall. “do i make you uncomfortable?” you repeated.

“nono, of course not,” he said hurriedly, his eyes locked on the printer.

“are you sure?” you raised an eyebrow.

“i-“ mingi rubbed the back of his neck. he shifted in his spot once more, though his knee bumped into yours again - making him jump slightly. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“come on,” you grinned. “you barely talk to me unless you have to, and when you do, you can’t even look at me- like right now!” you giggled as you watched his eyes dart around the room.

you fiddled with the printed papers. “i’ve seen how you act around your friends. you’re fun, you’re loud. so why are you so quiet now?”

mingi opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. his hands fidgeted with his shoelaces, his jaw tightening. finally, he let out a soft sigh and glanced at you - for just a second.

“i don’t know,” he admitted.

“you don’t know?”

“i mean-“ mingi stuttered, his eyes on the door. his lips were pressed into a thin line and his shoulders slumped. “i guess- i just don’t know how to act around you…?” he said, already regretting his words.

mingi wiped the sweat off of his forehead, adding onto what he said. “you’re just different from the people i’m used to.”

you nodded, giving him a smirk. “ohh, it’s because i’m a girl right?”

“nonono it’s just-“ he said quickly, his ears turning red. “you’re uh..” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. “you’re uh- focused? yeah.. and you’re good at what you do. that’s all..”

you let out a soft laugh, making him look at you nervously. “is this your way of saying you respect me or something?”

his cheeks flushed. “you can say that..”

“hmm.. okay okay,” you hummed, trying to suppress a grin. “so if that’s all..”

you leaned in closer, “..you wouldn’t mind if we went out for lunch together right?”

mingi blinked. “like with wooyoung and yeosang?”

you shook your head, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “just us two.”

“well..” mingi looked at the ground, trying to find the words in his brain. “aren’t most places far away?”

“there’s a manga cafe nearby. it’s pretty cute and has a decent menu.”

his eyes widened at your suggestion. “a manga cafe..?” he repeated.

you shrugged. “i thought you’d like it.”

“i do,” mingi muttered, clearly unsure of how to respond. “you don’t think it’s weird? not a lot of people like manga.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “i don’t find it weird.. do you not want to go?”

mingi immediately straightened his back, his blush deepening as he stumbled over his words. “what? no- i do-“

you laughed, cutting him off. “relax.. we’re friends right?”

you could see a smile forming on his face as he nodded. “yeah.. we’re friends.”

suddenly, you heard a chuckle from the other side of the door as it creaked open. yunho stood there with a grin, leaning against the doorframe.

“sorry it took me a while,” he said, giving mingi a knowing look. “getting cozy?”

mingi’s flustered expression turned into a glare as he stood up, brushing the dust off of his pants. “just let us out.”

yunho moved aside, watching as his friend walked hurriedly towards his desk. “hope you two had fun,” he winked.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

you leaned back into your chair, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “you know, i just finished the season this morning.”

mingi’s head shot up, his eyes wide with excitement. “really?” he asked, mid-chug of his drink.

“yeah, i was up all night watching it. i even got a little emotional at the end,” you replied with a nod, causing mingi to flash you a grin - one that you’ve never seen before.

the cafe around you had walls lined with manga shelves. the faint music of anime soundtracks playing in the background. the decor was adorable and you had to resist the urge to take a photo of every corner of the cafe.

the two of you continued talking and for once, it didn’t feel awkward. mingi seemed more relaxed, even joking around with you at times - but of course, he still had a habit of looking away whenever you made eye contact with him.

as the clock ticked closer to the end of your break, you stood up and pointed to the manga shelves. “i think i’m gonna grab something before we head back,” you said, wandering over, mingi soon following behind you.

“i don’t know what to pick,” you admitted, tracing your fingers along the spines of the books. “you got any ideas?”

his face lit up as he reached for a manga volume. “this one is really good. the world-building and plot is great. and the characters? the way they develop over time is just-”

mingi went into a passionate ramble, flipping through the pages as he spoke. you leaned against the shelf, listening to him as you bit back a smile.

suddenly, he stopped, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “sorry, i got carried away.”

you shook your head. “no you didn’t. i’ll take it,” you said, taking the book from his hands.

mingi blinked, stunned. “really?”

“yeah,” you replied with a grin. “you obviously like it, so it must be good.”

he stood there, a little speechless as you walked towards the register.

as you passed the manga to the cashier and reached for your wallet, mingi suddenly pointed to a random corner of the cafe. “woah what’s over there?”

you turned your head, confused. “what are you-”

before you could finish, you heard the tap of a card on the card-reader. turning back, you saw mingi sliding his card back into his pocket, acting like nothing happened.

you stared at him in disbelief. “..did you just pay for that?”

“would you be angry if i did..?” he said slowly, taking the bag where your manga was from the cashier.

you sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “no, but i can pay for my own things.”

mingi grinned. “maybe next time.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

it had been about two months since you and mingi started to eat lunch together. at least once a week, the two of you would grab a meal and talk about work or a new anime that either you or mingi were hyper-fixated on.

to be completely honest, mingi was pleasantly surprised at how your conversations evolved. what used to be a little awkward and dry now felt natural and easy.

mingi cracked his fingers. his screen had been glaring at him all morning, the same error popping up no matter how many times he rewrote the code. he leaned back into his chair, rubbing his temples in frustration.

“hey,” your voice pulled his attention away from the screen. “what do you want for lunch today?”

mingi blinked. “shit- i’m sorry,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i can’t go today. too much work to do.”

you didn’t seem bothered by his response. instead, you tilted your head. “okay, then what are you craving?”

“uh... something light, i guess?” he replied hesitantly, unsure of why you were asking.

you just nodded, grabbing your phone and standing up. “be right back,” you said, leaving before he could question you further.

when you returned about 20 minutes later, mingi stared at you in disbelief. you set down a steaming cup of noodles, his favourite chips and a coffee.

“w-wait,” he stammered, immediately reaching for his wallet. “how much was it? let me-”

“-it’s fine,” you interrupted, brushing his offer off. “just eat before it gets cold,” you slid back into your seat.

mingi stared at the meal infront of him, his heart racing in a way that he couldn’t explain. it wasn’t just the food (though that definitely played a part), but it was the fact that you knew and remembered his favourites. you even went out of your way to do this without making it a big deal.

‘that’s just what friends do,’ he convinced himself as he took a bite out of his food. but when he glanced over to you, the butterflies in his stomach told him something that he wasn’t ready to admit.

not yet, anyway.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

you were busy testing out a software when jongho appeared, dragging a chair behind him. he sat it in your section, right between you and mingi.

“guess what,” jongho began as he faced mingi. “i finally got that place i was looking at.”

mingi turned away from his monitor, eyebrows raising slightly. “oh? that’s cool. congrats man.”

“thanks. i’m thinking of having a little housewarming thing this weekend,” jonogho continued. “nothing big, don’t worry.”

mingi nodded, leaning back into his chair. “sounds good. let me know what time.”

it wasn’t until then when mingi noticed that you were listening in into their conversation, your fingers paused over your keyboard. his eyes darted to yours for a moment before he spoke. “do you want to come?”

you blinked, your eyes shifting to jongho. “i mean.. do you want me there?”

jongho shrugged. “yeah, you’re cool. bring wooyoung and yeosang too.”

mingi didn’t say anything, but the way jongho gave him a knowing look didn’t escape your notice. you bit back a grin, nodding slowly. “alright, i’ll be there.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

“damn you look good,” wooyoung said, looking you up and down.

you raised an eyebrow. “what are you talking about? i’ve worn this outfit to work before.”

“yeah but the work air does you dirty,” he said, earning him a smack from yeosang.

“focus,” yeosang said, pointing to jongho’s door. “who’s knocking?”

“not me,” wooyoung shook his head quickly. “i already carried the chips here. i’ve done my part.”

you scoffed. “you brought two bags and i’m pretty sure you ate one of them.”

“they’re big bags, okay?” wooyoung defended.

yeosang sighed. “fine, i’ll-“

before he could knock, a deep sigh was heard on the other side of the door. the three of you exchanged a look with each other before the door swung open.

wooyoung and yeosang, who were leaning against the doorframe, stumbled forward and landed infront of jongho’s feet.

jongho stepped back, opening the door wider. “welcome.”

you blinked, giving him a smile. “hey, jongho.” carefully, you tiptoed over the two fallen bodies on the ground as you entered the apartment.

the apartment had a warm and cozy feel. there was a decent amount of fake plants and the furniture looked new but comfortable. the dining table was lined with snacks and the kitchen counter was filled with a surprising amount of alcohol.

you walked over to yunho and mingi who were already standing around the kitchen. you waved to yunho before turning to mingi and giving him a quick hug.

mingi froze for a bit, though he quickly recovered, his response stiff. “uh- hey.”

jongho clapped his hands to gather everyone’s attention. “alright, don’t get too comfortable. let me show you around.”

he led the group on a small tour around his apartment, showing off his bedroom, bathroom, living room and office space - he even had a guest bedroom.

after the tour, you found yourself back in the living room, chatting with yunho and mingi.

“so how’s the project going?” yunho asked, taking a sip from his drink.

“not bad,” you replied. “it’s a lot of coding but i’m enjoying it for the most part.”

mingi nodded. “yeah, and you’re good at it,” he muttered quietly, mostly to himself.

you glanced at him, giving him a smile. “thanks.”

the tips of his ears turned pink and he quickly turned to yunho, who was trying to hide a smile behind his glass.

after a while, you wandered over to the snack table where yeosang and wooyoung were hanging out.

“chips are food,” wooyoung said angrily.

yeosang sighed, turning to you. “this is his third bowl.”

“it’s a party,” wooyoung shrugged. “i’m living my best life.”

before anyone could say anything, jongho’s voice was heard from across the room. “wooyoung!”

wooyoung froze, a chip halfway to his mouth. “what?” he shouted back.

jongho stood by the door, his arms crossed. “tell me why there’s a group of at least 15 people outside my house saying that there’s a party here?”

wooyoung chuckled nervously, clearing his throat. “um.. about that..”

jongho’s eyes narrowed. “don’t tell me you-“

the doorbell rang and before you knew it, a large group of people poured in, loud music taking over the entire space.

wooyoung scratched the back of his neck. “i may have uh- spread the word a little.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

the house grew loud, music bouncing off of the walls as laughter filled every corner. you squeezed through the crowd, heading over to the kitchen for another glass of soju. but when you reached, your eyes landed on mingi who was downing many shots of alcohol.

“heyheyhey, stop,” you said, stepping forward and gently taking the glass from his hand.

mingi blinked at you, confused, his cheeks pink. you looked at him with concern. “what’s going on? why are you drinking so much?”

he mumbled something incoherent, rubbing his forehead. without hesitation, you hooked your arm around his and tugged him toward the hallway. “you’re sitting this one out,” you said firmly, guiding him into the guest bedroom which thankfully, was unoccupied.

closing the door behind you, you made him sit on the edge of the bed. mingi groaned and slumped down, half of his body dangling off the bed while his upper body rested against mattress.

you sat on the bed next to him. “are you okay? what’s wrong?” you asked softly, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“...i don’t like people,” he mumbled, his face half-buried in the sheets.

a small smile tugged at your lips. “it’s okay. i get it.”

“i like you, though,” his said, his voice muffled but clear enough to make your eyes widen in shock.

“wait, what?” you blurted out, staring at him disbelief.

mingi got up abruptly, sitting on the bed properly like nothing happened. “why did wooyoung bring so many people? this isn’t a party party,” he said.

“i.. i don’t know,” you stammered. “can we go back to what you said before-”

“i didn’t finish the code i was supposed to give hongjoong,” he interrupted, looking at you with glassy eyes. “am i getting fired?”

you shook your head. “no, he gave you until next month to complete it. can we-”

“-i haven’t eaten pasta in so long,” his voice cracked, on the verge of tears.

“i’ll get you pasta tomorrow,” you said quickly, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

mingi’s face lit up. “really?”

“yes,” you nodded.

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, the muffled noise of the party bleeding through the walls. soon enough, you finally spoke up. “hey.”

mingi turned to you, his eyes a little clearer now.

“when you said you liked me,” you began cautiously. “what did you mean?”

“that i like you,” mingi said plainly like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“well, yes, but,” you cleared your throat. “as a friend or-”

“i like your eyes,” he cut in, his gaze locked onto yours. “and your nose.”

you blinked, stunned.

“your lips are pretty,” he added as he leaned in slightly. “and so are your outfits.”

“i-”

“i like your voice,” he continued. “and the cafes you bring me to.”

your heart raced as you stared at him. “...is this the alcohol talking?” you asked weakly.

mingi tilted his head, reaching up to touch his mouth like he was checking for something. “i’m pretty sure i’m the one talking,” he said, completely serious.

a wide smile broke across your face. “you’re cute.”

“me?” he looked behind him, seeing if there was someone else in the room.

“yes, you,” you laughed softly.

mingi’s face flushed a deeper red - whether it was from the alcohol or your words, you weren’t sure.

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you once more and you could tell that mingi was beginning to sober up. he shifted slightly, his movements becoming nervous.

“i’m sorry,” he began, but you quickly cut him off.

“don’t apologise,” you said.

“but i made you uncomfortable- oh my god i made you uncomfo-”

“i like you,” you said, pulling him out of his spiral.

mingi froze, his eyes wide. “are you serious?”

you nodded.

“b-but you’re so..” he trailed off, his eyes searching yours. “..pretty.”

“thank you,” you said, your heart fluttering. “though i think you’re really downplaying yourself.”

“why would you like someone like me?” mingi asked, his voice a whisper.

you shrugged. “for all the same reasons you like me.”

“because i watch anime?” he asked, confused.

“that’s a bonus,” you grinned.

the next thing you knew, your hands brushed against his, lingering for a moment as his eyes shifted to your lips. it was such a simple action and yet it sent your heart in circles. slowly, he leaned in closer, his warm breath against your skin.

“are you really okay with this?” he asked, worried that you were playing a prank on him.

you looked into his eyes, your voice soft. “i’ve been waiting for this.”

then mingi’s lips were on yours.

it was soft at first. but the second your hand found his jaw, tilting his head slightly - something in him changed. his hand was on your thigh, his fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt like he needed to hold on or risk floating away.

your hand moved to his chest and you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm. mingi’s other hand found your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

“mr song,” you mumbled against his mouth, the name drawing a low groan from him.

“god- you’re so perfect,” he muttered, the grip on your thigh tightening, his thumb tracing the seam of your skirt, sending shivers up your spine.

you lost track of how long you stayed like that. the music from outside faded into the background and the room slowly disappeared from your mind.

and then the door slammed open.

you and mingi jumped apart, faces flushed and breaths uneven. just then, wooyoung stumbled in, his arm draped lazily around a girl.

“oh my god,” wooyoung’s eyes widened, darting between the two of you with unhinged glee. without waiting a second, he whipped out his phone and snapped a picture before slamming the door shut - his loud voice echoing the hall. “i knew it! i knew it! i knew it!”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands as you got up. “this bastard-”

“-hey,” mingi caught your wrist, his fingers gentle but firm as he tugged you back toward him. his face was still flushed and his lips were slightly swollen, but his voice was soft. “don’t focus on him. focus on me.”

your heart skipped multiple beats. you nodded, letting him guide you back into his arms.

this time, the kiss was much slower - no rushing, no interruptions, just the two of you. his hand returned to your thighs, this time squeezing it lightly, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips.

when you broke apart, his eyes studied your face, his thumb gently tracing your lips. you brushed away the stray hairs that stuck to his forehead, adjusting his glasses which were lopsided.

“was i good?” mingi asked nervously.

“of course,” you giggled, your cheeks warm. “way more than good.”

he let out a sigh of relief. “i’m glad..” he said softly. your words made him smile, the stress in his shoulders easing.

“if wooyoung posts that picture..” mingi said, leaving a trail of kisses on your jaw. “..i’m deleting his league account.”

any and all feedback appreciated <3 remember to like and repost!

[eloves-writes]

feeling’s mutual

[max verstappen x reader]

desc: max overhears his teammate having some alone time in her driver’s room, and can’t help himself knocking on to see what she’s doing

warnings: swearing, masturbation (f+m), mutual masturbation, implied age gap, dom!max

a/n: this came to me like a prophetic vision. just kidding, except not really bc i wrote this so fast. it’s like 2am and i need to sleep, but i hope you enjoy, requests open as always (!!), comments and reblogs are so so loved and appreciated (just like you!). mwah mwah mwah ily

this work contains mature themes, minors do not interact

——————————————————

the first practice session had been rough; you were new to redbull after getting promoted from f2 mid-season, and you weren’t quite getting used to the car as quick as you’d hoped. pair that with some subpar upgrades and you’d been left in the middle of the time sheet, whilst your teammate had topped the board like always. to make matters worse, your boyfriend, a fellow f2 driver, had dumped you when you moved up and the sexual frustration was started to grate on you too.

luckily, you’d managed to weasel your way out of media commitments and strategy meetings between the two practice sessions and had some time to kill two birds with one stone and attempt to release some tension with your trusty vibrator. it came in a carry case that made it look completely unsuspicious in your handbag, and after a quick check outside your driver’s room to make sure nobody was lingering, you took it out and began to undress from the waist down.

for some reason, the image of your teammate came to mind as you turned the toy to its lowest setting and placed it against you. the way his hand would linger on your waist when he spoke to you, the feeling of him pressed up against your back as he tried to move past you in a crowded garage, your tits on his chest through the fabric of your suits on the rare occasion he hugged you. even his voice, that dutch accent, and the anger in it when he came back to the redbull suite after a bad session.

quickly, waves of pleasure were sent through your body and you turned up the vibrator to the next intensity. god, he could be so insufferable sometimes. complaining about podiums because he didn’t win, moaning about every interview he had to give as if he wasn’t the reigning world champion. and he was older than you, not by too much, but enough that the thought of him fucking you made you wet with a sort of dirty lust you didn’t feel with men your own age. as you started to really feel good, you let out a small, breathy whimper that wouldn’t have been heard by anybody, except that max himself was in his own driver’s room beside yours listening closely, practically with his ear against the wall.

he’d heard a quiet, mechanical whirring as he scrolled through his phone, and thought nothing of it- a common sound to hear at an f1 track. it wasn’t until he really listened, and noticed an accompaniment of heavy female breathing that he realised the direction the sound was coming from; your room. his younger, beautiful teammate who he could never touch, but could perversely rake his eyes over whenever you wore something tight, short, or low cut. admittedly, he felt like a bit of a creep thinking of you in such a way whilst you were doing nothing at all sexual, but this was different. he could listen. and it wasn’t his fault, really, that he could hear you. and it really wasn’t his fault that he could hear you moan his name, and that his legs seemed to be taking him out of his door and towards yours.

you didn’t mean to say it out loud, it had just slipped out, but the sound of it painfully turned you on so you tried it again and found yourself coming closer to the release you’d been craving so badly. you whispered it again, ready to bring yourself over the edge, before being so rudely interrupted by a knock on your door.

“shit,” you whispered, fumbling to turn the vibrator off and find some pants. you’d left some sweatpants on the floor and quickly pulled them up, hopping over to your door. you opened it to be met with the face of the man you’d been fantasising about. your cheeks involuntarily blushed a crimson, ferrari red.

“max!” you started, trying to act normal. how the fuck did you speak to him again? “what’s up?”

that definitely wasn’t it. max smirked, raising an eyebrow to look beyond you and to the sofa you’d been laying on moments before. “just checking you’re ok,” he spoke slowly.

“yeah?” you replied as fast as you could. “why wouldn’t i be ok?”

he chuckled softly. “i … heard something. thin walls.”

your face dropped again. you scrambled for something to say, an explanation, but max beat you to it.

“can i come in?”

you nodded slowly, letting him into your room and closing the door behind him. you felt sheepish, stupid for not keeping yourself quiet. you couldn’t look him in the eye, despite where your mind had been wandering previously.

“did you finish?” he asks, not struggling at all to make eye contact like you were.

you didn’t know what you expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. you stayed silent, trying and failing again to think of a response.

“i asked, y/n,” he repeated himself, “did you finish?”

his expression was not one that you’d seen on him before, and you found yourself shaking your head. “no.”

he took a seat in the chair opposite the sofa. “go on then,” he dared. you looked at him like he’d just asked you to rear end him on the track on sunday. “show me what you were doing. i want to watch.”

stunned into silence once again, your hands operated separately from your brain and pushed your sweatpants to the floor. you lay back down on the sofa, taking up the same position as earlier, and picked up your vibrator that you’d promptly shoved behind a cushion when he’d knocked. he didn’t look away once, his eyes darting from your face to your wet cunt between your open legs. you placed the toy against you once again and switched it back on. it felt so much more intense now, both from how close you’d been before and from max watching you. he didn’t say anything as you started to rhythmically move your hips in response to the vibrations, but slid a hand into his pants to stroke himself in time with your movements.

the orgasm came back to you quickly, and as you moved faster so did max’s hand on his cock.

“say my name, schat, like you did before.”

your eyes flickered over to him before you obliged without the confidence you’d said it with when you were alone.

“no, no. look at me,” he demanded. just the sight of him stroking himself, watching you get yourself off, made you moan his name again, properly.

“good girl, that’s better.”

that earned another moan from you, making you cum and release onto the sofa with a whine of pleasure. max finished himself almost instantly, spilling into his own hand. you passed him a tissue, but he shook his head.

“for your …” you said, confused.

he offered his palm out to you, covered in his release. “clean it up, schat.”

if he wanted to play it that way, you could play too. you held the bottom of his hand, and sat your still wet and naked cunt over his thigh before fixing your eyes on his and licking his cum from his hand.

“that’s cute,” he said sarcastically. “now there’s a wet spot on my jeans, looks like i’ve pissed myself.”

you shrugged your shoulders innocently and hopped off him, pulling your sweatpants on again.

he stood up and stepped towards you, towering over you. he tilted your face up to his, and leaned in. “we’ll see who’s laughing when i make you sit there again tonight. i’m not done with you yet.”

[leossmoonn]

call out my name | mike schmidt

summary - mike gets jealous after seeing you so friendly with a co-worker

includes / warnings - reader is fem. takes place after he worked at freddy’s. unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, fingering.

————

18+ under the cut

mike’s about to shit his heart out as he looks in the window of the car dealership, seeing you and your co-worker standing at the reception desk. his blood starts boil as your co-worker makes you laugh. his hand keeps brushing against yours as he shows you whatever interesting video is on his phone. mike swears your co-worker steps closer to you so now your shoulders are touching. you don’t seem to notice, though.

mike runs a hand through his hair and makes sure the collar of his shirt is tucked. he opens the door, the bell making you raise your head. a bright smile encompasses your face and you stand up straighter, smoothing out any wrinkles in your shirt.

“you here to buy a car?” you tease your boyfriend. “i wish,” mike chuckles softly. his smile immediately drops when your co-worker speaks up.

“hey, mike.” the way he says mike’s name makes his stomach churn. “what’s up, drew?” mike’s smile is polite and tight as he glances at him.

“nothing much. is work slow for you, too?” drew asks. “no, i’m on my lunch break,” mike says. he fights the urge to roll his eyes. drew knows why he comes here.

“must keep you on a long leash with you coming all the way here,” drew says. “what do you do for work again? oh, yeah, mall security?”

mike’s hands ball into fists and he clenches his jaw. he tries to keep his reactions minimal, knowing drew wants to get a reaction out of him.

“actually,” you interject, “mike got a job waiting tables and he just got promoted to manager a week ago.”

“wow,” drew gasps. “how exciting. you must be so proud of yourself.”

mike glares at drew, trying to breathe slowly as to calm himself. you shuffle away from drew, not catching the small disappointment in his eyes.

“let’s go to the break room, yeah?” you ask. mike nods and follows you, part of him relaxing as your hand grabs his tricep. he sits down and waits for you to grab your lunch from the fridge.

“how come you didn’t bring anything?” you frown. “not that hungry,” he shrugs. truthfully, he can’t work up an appetite on the days he knows drew works with you. he‘s tried to eat in the past, knowing how you worry about him taking care of himself. but if he tries to eat, the food would end up wasted, and he can’t afford that.

“do you want half of my sandwhich?” you ask. “no, i’m okay,” he shakes his head.

“what about some pieces of fruit?” you press. “you go ahead and eat all your food,” mike chuckles. you hum in dissatisfaction. you russle through your lunch box, finding a week-old granola bar. “here,” you hand it to him. mike’s about to deny you again, but the desperation in your eyes makes him fold. he takes it and thanks you, taking small bites and chewing slowly.

mike’s worries dissipate the more time he spends with you. his dread is replaced with joy as you laugh at his weak jokes. warmth encapsulates his heart as you scoot your chair closer to him so your knees are touching. the kiss you press on his cheek makes him grin from ear-to-ear.

he saddens when he realizes he has to go back to work. you walk him out to his car, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

“i’ll talk to drew about his rudeness,” you mention. mike’s ears perk up in surprise. “oh…you don’t have. i don’t think he was being rude. he’s just —”

“mike,” you raise your brows. he sighs, “thank you.” you smile and nod, “of course. drive safe to work. i’ll see you tonight.”

he nods and kisses you again, having to peel himself away from you to leave.

a few days later, mike has to drop you off at work.

“can i use the bathroom real quick?” mike asks as you start to get out of the car. “of course,” you answer.

you two walk in together and you go to the break room to put all your things away. mike goes and finds you to say goodbye after he uses the restroom. he finds you in the break room with no one other than drew. you’re leaning against the counter, waiting for your coffee to brew. drew is close to you again — too close. his hand is on the counter right by your waist. he’s looking down at you, eyes flickering from your hips to your breasts and neck.

mike clears his throat and both of you turn to him. you walk over, giving him a long and warm hug.

“thank you for taking me to work,” you say. “no problem. do you need me to pick up you?” he asks.

“no, rachel can take me,” you say. “you just worry about picking abby up from school.”

his lips upturn and he nods. you press a kiss to his cheekbone and he begins to leave, but drew stops him.

“hey, mike. sorry about what i said the other day,” drew apologizes, but he doesn’t look sorry. mike nods at him, smiling awkwardly. “it’s fine. thanks.”

mike awaits your arrival at his home, making dinner for the two of my you. abby wanted to hang out at a friends house, so he dropped her off there, leaving the house empty for the two of you for a while.

he perks up as he hears your voice from outside. his heart races in excitement and he goes to the front door to greet you, but his feet stay glued to the floor as he sees drew, not rachel, get out of the car. he’s handing your purse and lunchbox, which mike knows you’re perfectly capable of retrieving yourself. you smile at drew and mike knows enough about you to know it’s a polite smile. it’s when you and drew hug that mike starts to feel nauseous. you stand a little far away from drew for it to be a normal hug, but drew pulls your closer and you don’t pull away. mike watches as drew’s hand slides down your back, just above your ass. mike’s hand that’s on the doorknob turns white. you pull away after a few seconds too long and drew moves to say something in your ear that makes you giggle. mike’s about to go out there and punch drew in the face, but you’re already making your way to the house.

mike scurries away from the door and back to the kitchen. he keeps stirring the pot of pasta, keeping his head down as you unlock the door and enter.

“hey, babe,” you greet him with a smile. you hang your coat on the rack besides the door, placing your purse and keys on the coffee table. you kick off your shoes and place them by mike’s.

“how was your day?” you ask as you walk over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

“fine,” mike answers through gritted teeth. “you okay?” your brows furrow in worry. you place a hand between is shoulder blades, which he shrugs off. “yeah. just tired,” he mumbles.

“okay,” you say unconvinced. you don’t push. mike’s a grown man and you’ve been together long enough for him to know that if he has a problem, he needs to speak up and ask for help. “where’s abby?” you ask.

“at a friend’s.”

“looks like we get the house to ourselves.”

your tone is teasing and when he looks at you, you have a mysterious glimmer in your eyes. he can’t muster up an ounce of care. he just hums in response.

“i’m going to go change into pjs,” you say, your warm lips settling on his skin. he just nods and you walk away, mind racing with what he could be so upset about.

dinner is worse. you two don’t talk at all. all your attempts fail. even when one of you are tired, you both make an effort.

“thank you for making dinner. i’m sorry i’m not that hungry,” you say.

“it’s fine,” he says, holding his head down and staring into his plate of alfredo.

“drew shared his chick-fil-a with me, so i guess i’m still full from that.”

something inside mike snaps. he drops his silverware with a clang, roughly getting out of his chair. it scrapes against the hardwood and he grabs his plate, shoving all the food down the trashcan and practically throwing the plate into the sink. he stomps away, going into his room. your stunned at his behavior, slowly getting up and walking over to his room.

“what the hell was that?” you ask. “nothing,” he grumbles. he’s taking off his sweatshirt, feeling too warm from becoming worked up.

“mike, talk to me. you’ve been acting weird ever since i got home. is something wrong? did abby get in trouble at school or say something?” you ask.

“i thought rachel was going to take you home.” his eyes stare daggers into yours. your throat dries and your heart starts to race. you don’t know why you suddenly feel so nervous. you weren’t hiding anything, but mike’s expression made it seem like you had just committed a crime.

“i… yeah. she was,” you say, your voice sounding softer with each word. “then why did drew take you home?” mike asks.

“rachel had to pick up her son from school. he got sick.”

“oh, how convenient.”

you now shoot him a glare. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“stop acting so innocent! we both know he’s in love with you.”

“that’s ridiculous, mike.”

“oh, is it? because from the moment you started working there, he’s been glued to your side. i mean, the first time i met him, he was pressed up against you!”

“he was just showing me how the system worked!”

“i’m sure that’s all he was doing,” mike says with a sour smile. “the other day, he was acting like an asshole.”

“i told him to apologize to you and he did, didn’t he?”

“yeah, because he wants to be on your good side.”

“mike, c’mon,” you try to settle the argument. you take a step towards him but he furthers the distance between you two.

“and today? buying you food and driving you home,” mike recants. “he’s a nice guy, mike. he’s bought food for the whole team before!” you exclaim, feeling exasperated.

“yeah, i bet he hugs everybody like how he hugged you, too. pressed all up against you with hand practically on your ass. and then he whispers something in your ear that makes you laugh so loud. he must be a real comedian since you’re always giggling when you’re with him.”

your frustration turns to worry as mike begins to talk more to himself than you. you have to admit, you’ve always known of drew’s crush on you. but he had never made a real move on you or made you uncomfortable. there was no reason to report him or confront him about it, especially since he knows you’re with mike. you always try to make your boundaries clear with everyone, but perhaps you missed a few of the signs with drew.

“tell me, what did he say to you?” mike asks, looking into your eyes.

“i-i don’t remember,” you admit honestly.

“i bet he was saying something about me, right? maybe he was telling you to go back to his place instead. i wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to say yes.”

you’re taken aback by his assumptions of you. “is that what you really think of me, mike? you think i would leave you for some guy i’ve known for a couple months? for a guy who is only a co-worker to me?”

“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “you seem pretty smitten with him. he probably thinks you want to fuck him.”

you grit your teeth, feeling your heart sink as you finally hear what mike seems to think of you. “you’re an idiot, mike.” you walk out of his room, going to grab your purse and keys. he’s quick to follow you.

“you’re leaving now?” he scoffs. “i bet i can guess who you’re going to call to pick up you.”

“get over yourself, mike!” you yell. you head towards the door but he grabs your wrist, whipping you around to face him. you’re so close, you almost collide with his chest. his chest heaves up and down, his face flushed. “i think you should get over yourself,” he seethes. “you can’t seem to tell me that you don’t love him.”

“i don’t love him. i love you!” you shout, watching his face soften as your words register. “i didn’t want to tell you like this, but… i think you need to hear it.” your voice is quiet, almost a whisper now.

he doesn’t say anything. you can’t read his expression. you know mike likes to pull away from people. you know he’s afraid of losing everyone he loves. you know it’s hard for him to be open with you and this blow up tonight is a testament to that. you just hope he doesn’t try to push you away even more.

“mike? say something, please. if you don’t love me either then just say that, but it’s important you know that i do love —”

he smashes his lips against yours. your body melts against his out of instinct. you drop your purse and keys, wrapping your arms around his neck and weaving your fingers through his hair. his kisses are bruising, like he wants you to feel it tomorrow. his hands grasp at your sides, pulling you in closer, needing to feel every inch of you.

he begins to walk backwards to the couch, one of his hands leaving your body to feel out the couch. he sits down, grabbing the small of your back and yanking you onto his lap. your lips part for a small gasp of air and he slips his tongue in. your teeth clash as your tongue does a tango with his. your hands cup the back of his neck where his spine begins, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck.

he moans into your mouth, the sound vibrating inside you. his hands untucking your shirt and snaking up your back. he unclasps your bra and he wastes no time with getting his hands on your tits. even with your bra still hanging off your arms, his hand slithers under the wire.

you can feel his hard on under you. you can’t help but grind, your clit catching onto your underwear. your head drops and you moan into his ear, making him shudder underneath you. your hands move down to his t-shirt, dragging it up his body. he has to pause from massaging your breasts, but takes the opportunity to take your shirt and bra off.

his lips attach to your nipple, his tongue swirling and teeth oh-so-gently nibbling. your hands run down his chest, the soft hairs of his chest tickling your fingertips. your fingers stop at his belt and the ache between your thighs grows. you whine in need, starting to unbuckle his pants. once you do so, you quickly stand up and strip, swinging your leg back over mike’s waist once he takes his pants off.

you kiss him once more, sucking on his lip in between breaths. one of his hands settle on the junction between your hip and thigh, the other finding your cunt. you moan into his mouth as two fingers slip inside of you. he curves his fingers inside of you, brushing up against that sweet spot. your pussy gushes around his fingers with each movement and he can feel your juices slide down his hand at this angle. his thumb reaches up and circles over your throbbing clit. you can’t help but fall into him, his chin meeting your shoulder.

“mike,” you whimper. “feels good, huh?” he breathes out, his chest heaving up and down.

“mmhm,” you nod, screwing your eyes shut and biting your lip.

“he can’t make you this wet, can he?” mike whispers into your ear. he begins to kiss below your ear, sucking harshly. your stomach flips at his words and you shake your head, the only things coming out of your mouth are moans and whimpers.

“use your words, baby.” his voice is low and deep. his mouth is pressing searing hot kissing on your skin, sending a thrill up your spine.

“nu-uh,” is all you manage to say. his fingers pump faster, applying just the right pressure to get you off.

“shit, mike,” you gasp, your orgasm bubbling up in your lower stomach. you start to ride his fingers, gathering more friction around your clit. your fingertips dig into the flesh of his bicep as you come.

“mike,” you slur as he doesn’t stop rubbing your clit. “too much, too much!” you exclaim in a moan. mike slows his thumb’s movements, peering up at your face. your eyes are half-lidded and your lip is swollen from biting it so hard.

he gives you a few moments before taking you by the hips and flipping you over. his cock throbs at the sight of your legs spread for him. he knows how wet you were on his fingers. he can’t wait a second longer.

you grab onto his shoulders as he pushes into you. you both groan at the initial feeling. he fits you just like a glove. your pussy envelopes in warm and wetness, making it easy for him to just slide in.

he doesn’t waste any time with fucking you. he’s balls deep inside of you, marveling in the way your pussy hugs him. your walls clench around him with each thrust, the sounds of your juices gushing around his cock making you both lightheaded.

“you like being fucked like this, hm?” mike pants. “yes,” you breathe out. you’re starting to hyperventilate as his thrust become faster. his hips snap with yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin filling the room.

“tell me, can he fuck you like this?” he asks, his nose pressed against your cheek.

“no, mike. never.”

one of his hands grip the couch arm, about ready to pull out the stuffing. his other hand is digging into your side, surely to cause some bruising in the next few hours. your hands hook under his arms and you pull him closer to you as you’re about to come.

“fuck, baby,” he groans. “i-i love you, too. i think i’m gonna come, fuck.”

you can’t tell who’s breathing is who’s or who says what curse words, but you can feel him unload inside of you. warmth fills your insides as the knot in your tummy unravels. you buck your hips up to his in one last attempt to feel any sort of friction and then your body collapses on the couch, feeling weak and numb.

mike pulls out of you slowly, a string of his semen connecting from your pussy to his tip. he gets up and pulls on his boxers, walking to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth. you pull yourself up against the pillows, resting one leg off of the couch. mike sits between your legs, wiping up his oozing cream. he leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. he kisses a trail all the way up to your lips.

he kisses you sweetly this time around. his hands cup your face, cradling you close you him. he pulls away, sitting back with a smile as he looks at your neck.

“you’re gonna have to cover that up,” he says. you touch your skin, feeling how raw it is. you shrug and get up, putting your underwear back on. “i don’t think i will.”

mike raises his brows. “what if your co-workers see? what if drew comments on it?”

you give mike a coy smile. “i’ll tell him who gave it to me, then.”

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR ─── jonathan crane ✧♤

ೃ⁀➷ “Finally, a sin worth hurting for, a fervor, a sweet--you are mine.” — ‘Postcolonial Love Poem’, Natalie Diaz.

pairing. yandere!jonathan crane x reader

summary. a few months ago, you found out about your close friend’s… habit, of “cleaning up” creeps who hung around you. you use this to your advantage, but can you deal with the repercussions when your words backfire?

warnings. swearing, stalking, jonathan being creepy & delusional, manipulative but naive reader, mention of murder, p in v, creampie, breeding kink/forced breeding/babytrapping, unprotected sex, mild somno, oral sex (f), panty kink, forced cockwarming, drugging, heavy dubcon/noncon, SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 6.1k

a/n. this is definitely the darkest thing ive ever written. pls read w caution everyone!!! this is also inspired by these headcanons by @babybluebex and this alphabet by @scorpiussage !!

i.

You covered your face with your palms, sniffling. “Maybe I’m just being overdramatic. I was always too nice to him, y’know? Maybe I did lead him on.”

Jonathan’s head snapped to you, swiftly stepping toward the couch and kneeling down in front of you. “No, no, that’s what he wants you to think. You did nothing wrong,” he assured, pulling your hands away from your face and wiping a sneaky, non-existent tear from the corner of your eye. 

You pouted at Jonathan, big doe eyes glistening with grief. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow… and everyday after that,” you lamented, “because it’ll be so - upsetting, seeing him.”

Jonathan’s large hands clasped around your own, delicate and warm. “Does it scare you? Him being there?” he murmured softly, peering deeply into you with an indecipherable look.

You nodded pitifully, looking down at his hands wrapped in yours so your hair would fall in front of your face, hopefully shielding the glee sparkling in your eyes. Thank god Jonathan had taken the bait -- it was only a matter of time before your dear, obsessive friend would get rid of your competitor for you. 

It was late evening, and you’d called Jonathan, pretending to rant about a coworker who confessed and got slightly violent at the fact you did not reciprocate his feelings. In truth, none of that had happened at all— said coworker was vying for the same promotion opportunity as you were, and it was just your luck that a few months ago you discovered your sweet friend from college had made it a habit to “clean up” any creeps and freaks hanging around you. 

What kind of ambitious career-woman would you be if you didn’t take advantage of that, huh? So there you were, crying on the phone so devastatingly that Jonathan would have no choice but to come over, comfort you, and later, be your knight in shining armor and kill, kidnap or maim your coworker. 

You didn’t think it immoral to do so, y’know, even though it clearly was. To you, it was just… indulging his little hero-fantasy, while also making your life just that much easier. It made you happy, and it made Jonathan happy. 

It was all harmless (to you, anyway), because you knew how reserved Jonathan was… how logical he was. You were positive he’d never cross that line, go too far; stray out of the shadows with that possibility of losing you still hanging over him like a cloud. 

You wrapped your arms around Jonathan’s thin neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for coming tonight,” you murmured, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear. He shuddered under your touch, and you knew you had him whipped; probably already so deep within a plan to kill your coworker nothing could stop him.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, pulling away and letting his hand come up to the hand-print sized bruises on your shoulder. “I can’t believe that - that monster hurt you.” Jonathan shook his head aghast, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes moved from your bruised shoulder to the strap of your lacy bra, trailing down your breasts before snapping back up to your face.

Your coworker hadn’t actually hurt you, obviously, but you had asked him to knead out a knot in your shoulder at lunch, and made him pinch harder ‘till you knew it would bruise. You’d known him for a couple of years now, coming from the same training batch, and had been involved in plenty of tit-for-tat exchanges, “scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” type of deals. 

So you were close enough to be comfortable massaging the other-- but you’d be fucking damned if he got the promotion and you didn’t. 

“It’s not that bad,” you murmured, ducking your head like you were ashamed. 

“You don’t need to downplay it -- least of all to me,” Jonathan tutted softly, two fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze again. 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, brows knitting. “I know, I’m sorry, I just…” you blinked rapidly, as if you were trying to do away with on-coming tears, “I thought you wouldn’t believe me. He said… he said that nobody would believe me.”

And just like that, it was like a shadow had passed over him. Jonathan’s expression contorted almost frighteningly quickly, and gone were the delicate, comforting sweetness of his sharp features; thus came the darkened eyes, clenched jaw, frown digging into his cheeks. 

“…He said that?” Jonathan whispered, voice low, barely containing the rage seeping into his words.

“He said that - he could do… do whatever he wanted to me, and I’d never convince a soul.” You confided, letting your face get weepy, tear tracks running along the curve of your cheeks. 

At that, you suddenly pulled Jonathan close to you, pressing your face to his chest and making anguished cries leave your throat. His hands shakily came up to pet your hair, and you could hear his heartbeat; skipping beats and growing faster the longer you clutched onto him. 

“I believe you,” Jonathan insisted, and went from petting you to holding you so tight you could barely breathe, “I believe you.”

ii.

You never saw your coworker again. He’d sent in a notice of “vacation” that nobody could really object to… considering he also informed your boss he’d already gone, and was sending said notice from his hotel.

Sure, that was incredibly suspicious anywhere else, but that’s the thing— you weren’t “anywhere else”, you were in Gotham. If your coworker had actually gone on a split-second vacation, nobody would blame him; everyone you knew who lived in Gotham had snapped, at least once, and had to get away. Most temporarily, some permanently -- in which, chalking his fate up to Jonathan, your coworker was definitely the latter. 

Honestly, you weren’t very surprised when you found out Jonathan was, for lack of better word, murdering people. Specifically, people he deemed a “threat” to you. 

Jonathan had always been… a touch too overprotective. Territorial, even. It was far subtler in college, but you supposed that was because you’d seen him everyday; with both of you trekking through your hellish career aspirations, you couldn’t see each other as often as you had back in school. It was like that saying-- absence makes the heart grow fonder. 

You’d first met Jonathan in GSU’s large community library, after you dropped a book on his head. You were on one side of the bookshelf, he on the other, and you were trying to grab a book on a too-tall ledge. Instead of getting your measly grip on it, it went backwards and smacked Jonathan right in the rimless frames. It was a meet-cute, sort of, with you apologizing profusely, him brushing your worries off with that irritatingly charming smile of his, and then helping you with any books you needed (a clear advantage of his height) for the rest of the day. 

From there you became close friends. He always knew the right things to say, had various fascinating interests (half of them coinciding with your own), and was always, without fail nor doubt, an absolute darling. He never poked or prodded into information you didn’t want to tell him (at least not yet), constantly staying polite, respectful, eloquent, and patient. 

You knew now why and how your relationship had escalated like so: you suspected he’d been one of those “creeps” hanging around you, long before the library incident in your early college days. You first began adoring him for the most part because it felt like he understood you perfectly, unknowingly adhering to all your creature habits, liking all your hobbies, and knowing every word that could make you let your guard down like you’d been friends for years. It all made sense now-- he’d collected said information just from watching you for so long. 

Thus the “meet cute, sort of”; Jonathan had probably been planning the moment for months. Polite, respectful, eloquent, patient. 

Why you? Well, you didn’t know either. Getting psychological about this, you probably reminded him of a relative he adored - some Freudian aspect coming into play, y’know? But it all boiled down to one constant fact: he was obsessed with you. 

It should’ve scared you, and it probably would’ve, back in college, but it didn’t now. His type was a dime a dozen, incredibly hard to come by; the kind of guy who you know you can trust, rely on, know without a doubt he will never leave. 

Even if you and Jonathan were just friends, you suspected in his sweet, beautiful, sick and twisted mind he’d long since considered you his — and, similarly, since finding out his secret, you began thinking of him as yours. Perhaps not yours romantically, but more like you owned him. He was the ever-present lucky charm in your pocket, the one who reminded you that you’d been loved before so you’ll be loved again, your constant support. 

“How’re you feeling?” Jonathan’s worried voice crackled out of your beat-up phone, startling you back to reality. You were hiding in your car while on break, not keen on talking to any of your coworkers or bosses in the cafeteria, when you’d gotten a call from him. 

“A lot better, actually.” You said, taking a bite of your lunch and trying to sound relieved rather than giddy. “…He went on vacation.”

Jonathan hummed on the other end of the line. You could hear the grin in his tone, but he quickly coughed, smoothing out the cheerful jitters in his voice.  “Really? That’s rather… well-timed.”

You shrugged, as if Jonathan could see you, “Whether it’s about me, or not, I’m just… glad I don’t have to see him.”

“Know that I agree wholeheartedly– the thought of him being near you made my stomach turn.” He let out a sigh, like his nerves were finally relaxing, “How about you come over tonight? I can make us a nice dinner, you can stay over if you want-- I regret leaving you alone last night… you were terrified.”

You bit your lip. When it came to Jonathan actually getting, well, romantic, you hesitated. Did he really want you, or was it his obsession kicking in? You knew he loved who he thought you were: a frail girl he needed to protect, not knowing you’d been using him to your heart's content since you found out his dirty little secret.

You were running out of fingers on your hands to count how many people you’d directed him to… clean up. First it was little targets, like the barista at your usual coffee place who’d flirt and always take too long making your drink, causing several lates at work. More recently it was the landlord of your apartment, who’d raised the rent three times in one month; after she died, the ownership went to her absent-minded son who reset the prices to the original, more-than-comfortable regular rate. 

But… you supposed you could humor him. A reward of some sorts; an unknowing treat to your obedient, sweetheart guard dog. “I’ll stop by, then,” you responded delicately. “I… didn't want you to leave either, Jon,” you murmured, before quickly hanging up. 

Later, after work, you’re driving to Jonathan’s with a bottle of white wine. You did these kinds of things for eachother -- little gifts, you mean -- often. Yesterday, he visited your flat with pastries from a bakery you liked all the way down in Old Gotham. 

“Chardonnay,” Jonathan commented when you arrived, ushering you through the front door with a squeeze to the thigh and gently inspecting the bottle. “You know me so well.” 

“Dare I say the best,” you grinned, pressing a friendly peck to his cheek and handing him your evening coat before traversing into his house’s large kitchen, swiping a finger-dip into the various dishes he had laid out in the middle of cooking.

“At least don’t touch dessert,” he pouted, quickly hanging your coat in his entry closet and trailing behind you. But his expression still cracked into a loving smile when he saw you sneak your pinkie-finger into a chocolate custard. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll be patient,” you backed off with a cheeky smile, arms up in the air and opting to hoist yourself on an empty counter and watch him resume cooking. 

“How thoughtful of you,” he responded sarcastically.

It didn’t take him long at all to finish up, and your eyes were trained on his sinewy figure the whole way through; the careful way he cooked, the absolute attention to every detail. 

Sure, you could say that was because Jonathan was a detail-oriented person (because he was), but you also knew it was because he was nervous, fumbling to impress you-- you noticed these kinds of things a whole lot more after finding out. Like how he gave you his coat when you went out together late at night and it was cold, how he often kept you close with a hand to the small of your back, how intently he listened to your every word, like it was the last thing he’d ever hear. 

“Like what you see?” Jonathan joked when he was done, urging you to sit down across from him and handing you the chardonnay poured in one of his wine glasses. 

“M’just admiring your cooking skills,” you explained sweetly, taking the glass and sipping it mildly. 

Jonathan’s eyes crinkled, lips curling into a sheepish smile. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to: he radiated delight. You swore you could see pink dusting his high cheekbones, a feverish blush burning from his ears to his pale neck. 

From there, dinner went on with some friendly chatter, his skillful dishes, and several more glasses of chardonnay. Nothing ever got old with Jonathan-- he listened well and he spoke gently and he revered your every word; you felt important just by being near him, he was so devoted. 

By the end of the night, however, you were feeling rather light-headed- veering on the edge of unconsciousness: “I think I’ll - take you up on that offer, Jon…” you murmured, trailing off and getting up from your seat. It was odd, surely, how quickly a mere white wine had gotten you drunk, but then again you’d been housing a nearly-full glass every few minutes. You lost your drink count ages ago. 

Jonathan, ever the gentleman, stopped tidying up immediately. “Good judgment,” he nodded agreeably, coming to your aid and picking you up bridal style. Your head swam at the sudden movement, his feet swiftly heading down the hallway, but his gentle voice quickly aided the dizziness: “Don’t force yourself and don’t worry, just sleep…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered, holding him tightly by the lapel, more words on the tip of your tongue, but he just shushed you, “didn’t help.”

“That’s quite alright, my love,” he replied lowly, entering his bedroom. He pressed an uncharacteristic kiss to your forehead and let you down onto his cushy mattress, watching how quickly your eyes dropped. You were certainly feeling the effects of the glass he laced now-- and then you were out. 

Jonathan needed to have you now, under his protection, and he’d achieve that through any means necessary, be it liquid melatonin or anything else…

“You’ll have plenty of time to help later. You’re home now.”

iii.

“Sorry about… last night,” you said the next morning when you got up, rubbing your eyes sleepily and padding into Jonathan’s kitchen. 

You found him leaning against his marble countertops, gently sipping down a mug of black coffee within his calloused grip, and he raised a brow amusedly. “You said the same thing in your sleep.”

Your gaze darted away from his own at the sudden embarrasssment. “Nonetheless… thanks, Jon. I’ll be out of your hair immediately-- I’m actually rather late for work. I kept a dress here last time, right?”

He set down his mug with a dull clink, and in your rambling, he’d made his way right in front of you. “No need,” he murmured, to which you tilted your head in confusion. 

“I already called in for you. You’re not going to work today.” He explained, a thin smile coming up to his face, eyes gleaming.

You laughed awkwardly, suddenly feeling trapped at the way he took slow steps forward, making you backtrack into the wall. “What are -- Jonathan, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you leave.” Jonathan insisted with a nod, expression knitted in a way you knew he thought he was doing the right thing. 

‘“Let me’ leave? Is- is this a joke? Because it’s… it’s not a funny one,” you stuttered, heart beginning to hammer in your chest at the way he looked down at you. It was like he was watching a wounded animal-- in a way, you felt like it… and Jonathan was clearly your predator. 

“It’s not a joke, dear. Gotham’s gotten too dangerous for you,” he informed you softly, hands coming up to hold your face lovingly. His steps stopped, and you felt it: he’d finally pinned you against the wall, and there was no escape. “That coworker of yours was the last straw. My heart aches at the thought of what he could’ve done to you.”

“I - that wasn’t…” You trailed off, cringing at the way he leaned in further, his hot breath fanning on your cheeks -- how helpless you were against his advances. 

You knew something was going to happen when Jonathan couldn’t just stay on the sidelines anymore, but you didn’t think it’d happen like this. You thought it might end with him professing his love to you, pleading and begging you to indulge him fully. That he’d fume and sob at rejection… that he’d let you go. 

But Jonathan was like a ticking time bomb: with every victim you gave him, moments were ticked off his clock. It seemed that your coworker was the last second… and that he’d had enough of his frail darling being surrounded left and right by threats to take care of. He knew it’d all be so much easier if he could keep you safe in one spot, a place only he could enter.

“That wasn’t what? My god, I knew I couldn’t leave you all alone like that anymore… you’re too sweet, too innocent to know what’s gone too far,” he shook his head pityingly, unaware how hypocritical his words were. 

“Jonathan,” you looked up at him, breath catching at the way his fingers dug into your neck, “what are -- what are you going to do to me?”

He let out a sharp laugh, “Do to you? Oh… no, my love, I won’t be doing anything to you… no, I’ll be keeping you safe.”

“Safe?” you repeated incredulously, “but what about - my life? My friends? My family? My job?”

He shushed you, not unlike he had done just the other night, or the night before that, “You don’t need to worry about any of those trivial things anymore. You have me. I’ll give you anything -- no, everything you want.”

Your lips parted and closed, unable to come up with a response that may cause him to realize the sheer insanity of what he was saying. He’d gone too far… had slipped too deep into the infatuation while you weren’t looking.

Then, Jonathan wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and immediately invading your nostrils with the scent of his cologne. It had been nice, once, but now it sickened you: how quickly that scent made your head swirl and your stomach clench… how quickly Jonathan had went from a darling pet of yours to a terror of unimaginable size. 

Fuck, you thought, fuck, you’d been playing with fire this whole time-- you had been playing with fire while being naive and underestimating and wholly stupid. 

You’d completely underestimated the depth of his commitment; how Jonathan was the kind of man who loved one and only one, and that there was no letting go with him. That once he had his claws in your skin, there was nothing that could stop him. 

But then, you remembered your thoughts from just two days prior-- you had him whipped. It was like a lightbulb went off; you knew you could use that, use his mindless, adoring obsession to you…

“Jonathan,” you murmured under your breath, too quiet for him to hear as he hummed lovingly above you. “Jonathan,” you repeated, louder this time, pushing him away and startling him.

He blinked rapidly, fixing his glasses that had gone askew in your sudden movement. “What is it, my love?”

“You -- you love me, do you not?” you asked, swallowing the cowardly dryness in your throat.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, inching closer, desperate to have you in his arms again. “Nothing in the world could compete with my love for you. Nothing.”

You exhaled shakily, putting your hands out in a poor way of creating more distance between you two. “I - I love you, too. I love you.”

You saw Jonathan’s face light up at your sudden confession, saw how his demeanor changed from hesitant to beaming. “You love me?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” you insisted, panting as beads of sweat rolled down your back, “and I’m telling you… I won’t anymore, not if you keep me here. If you truly love me, you won’t trap me here.”

“It’s because I love you that I plan to keep you here,” he frowned, before grabbing you by the extended wrist, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you in a deathgrip. 

“But you love me,” he repeated in amazement, pressing rough kisses along the side of your neck that had you whimpering, “so you’ll understand. God, how I’ve longed to hear those words leave your mouth.”

Jonathan had gotten tunnel vision at this point, barely registering your pleas, and when he began pawing at your clothes, apparently in some kind of delusion that your “confession” was a lustful one… you jumped ship. 

He thought your confession meant he had permission to have a taste of you, and while it made your knees buckle and your throat burn, if it meant he might finally fucking listen, let you convince him to let you leave… so fucking be it. 

The two of you then stumbled back down his hallway to the bedroom, tugging at each other’s garments while pressing hungry kisses on one another. You played along dutifully, trailing your hands along his back while tugging off his jacket, and other articles of clothing. 

Entering the bedroom at last, Jonathan gently pushed you down onto the springy bed, having long since undone you-- you were left in your lacy underwear from the night before: black bra, black stockings, lacy thong hidden beneath it. 

You wore thongs because they didn’t leave any panty lines under your thin pencil skirts, but you were quickly regretting the choice when Jonathan crawled onto the bed and roughly tugged down your stockings, surely leaving holes and runs in them, and let out a lecherous groan at the sight. 

“God, I love your body,” he purred, hands hungrily groping your thighs and throwing your ruined stockings off to the side. “Can’t believe how long I waited for this.”

You closed your legs on instinct shyly, but he just as quickly pried your legs apart, leaning in and pressing sweet kisses along the soft flesh. “Jonathan…” you whimpered, trying to act needy, like you wanted him so bad-- in reality, you wanted to get this over with. 

You reckoned if you let him fuck you, get him pussywhipped, you could promise you’d adore him wholeheartedly if he just fucking let you leave his house. You couldn’t deny how his ministrations made you feel, though; his plush lips brushing along your clothed cunt made tingles run up your spine, made your heart beat in a way that was anticipatory rather than terrified. 

“Let me take care of you,” he promised, slipping off your panties and leaving your lips bare. You would’ve hissed at the cold, but the noise died in your throat as you saw Jonathan ball up the lace and press it to his face, inhaling deeply. 

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Jonathan groaned, and you almost gagged. “Wonder how good you’ll taste…” With that, he pressed his face between your legs and began lapping up your wetness, and you felt a gleeful smile tug at his face. 

You gasped at the sudden action, bucking up into him on instinct. Your cheeks burned with shame, but you still choked on an unwarranted mewl when Jonathan’s tongue slipped inside your sticky hole and felt along your velvet walls. 

He couldn’t exactly speak, with his mouth trained artfully on your cunt, but he let out an unintelligible noise of approval. All of this made you nauseous, your insides twisting in disgust, but your body reacted the opposite, pussy pulsing and clenching around him. 

It was just -- fucking criminal how skillful he was with that long tongue of his, licking long stripes up and down, suckling on your clit, searching for the spongy spot in your cunt that he knew he couldn’t find without his cock, but wanted to make you squirm anyway. 

You felt that familiar pressure building within you, his tongue going down on you faster, making shameful squelching noises echo around the room. He was hitting every pressure point, something you hadn’t felt in… well, honestly, you weren’t sure you’d been eaten out like this ever… 

The thought you were enjoying this, that he might actually make you come made you queasy, and your hands tangled through his locks, pulling him away. “Want - want your… your cock,” you panted, shaking your head when he tried to bury himself in your sex again. 

Jonathan frowned, going from all fours to sitting on the backs of his heels. “Baby…” he said, hesitant. You knew he wanted to take his time, worship you, treat you lovingly, but you were getting confused… losing yourself to the pleasure, forgetting you were doing this to stop him from holding you captive, not because you actually wanted it. 

You pouted, and, to prove your point further, you pressed one of your feet onto his extremely noticeable bulge, fondling it softly. He nearly doubled over at the much needed friction to his neglected cock, and then Jonathan finally let go of all his inhibitions, giving into his primal needs. 

He quickly undid his belt buckle and fly, slipping out of his suit trousers. Your heart sank at the reveal of his size; the imprint of his cock looked extremely intimidating, and that was beneath his boxer shorts. 

It seemed your thoughts showed on your face, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, leaving an embarrassing amount of your wetness on the skin. “It’s okay, my love,” he reassured, “your pretty pussy can take me.”

You nodded hesitantly, your teeth capturing your bottom lip and nipping at it nervously as you watched him completely undress… his cock wasn’t very thick, but boy, was it long, coloured a delicate pink hue that was pretty and aching, but you knew he wouldn’t be using it delicately at all. 

The way he looked at you, almost feral, eyes dragging over every curve and practically melting at how your hole gaped for him had you wanting to cover up, run away-- but you held still and forced yourself to brave through it. 

You only need to do this once, you repeat mentally, only once, and you can convince him to let you go. 

Jonathan didn’t waste any time touching himself or anything like that, he merely crawled atop of you and slotted himself between your shuddering lips. “So wet,” he grunted, slowly pushing his cockhead in. 

Despite his words, and the terrifyingly glaring feeling of your wetness, you still winced at the stretch; your back arched at the intrusion, your arms wrapping around his neck and digging your fingernails into his back just from the pain of his tip at your entrance. 

He slid the rest of the way in jiltedly, and you let out a pained gasp, then a helpless whimper, and finally, his name, your voice weak and raspy as he laid his weight on your torso, panting at how you soaked him. His unruly length was going deeper than you thought possible, and your mind went fuzzy with fear at how it’d feel when he actually started thrusting in and out. You could only pray he didn’t break you. 

“You did it, dear,” Jonathan announced proudly, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You shuddered at the intimate gesture, but he didn’t seem to notice, and slowly pulled out, before slamming back in. 

You swore you saw stars, tears welling in your eyes at the rough action, and Jonathan placed his hands on your hips to soothe you by rubbing circles into the skin. “Full,” you choked out simply. 

Apparently, he thought that was praise, and he repeated the action, falling into a steady rhythm of slow but brutal thrusts. It had you gasping for air each time, the sting in your lower-half almost unbearable, but you suddenly felt yourself falling into a morally muddled, puzzling state of mind: he was practically torturing you with his length, but he was also whispering sweet nothings in your ear, gently massaging your rear. 

“You’re so -- fuck, thats a tight pussy -- beautiful,” he’d murmur, hanging his head low into the dip of your collarbone, “so beautiful.”

But, as you had to keep reminding yourself, you didn’t want this-- this was just the only way you’d escape. You didn’t want to be fucked by him, and most of all, you didn’t want him.

That train of thought was thrown out the window, however, when Jonathan’s hands suddenly hooked under your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. You were pulled further beneath him, and his cock went even deeper, punching up against the spongy spot in your pussy. 

You moaned; feverish, loud, wanton, and Jonathan drank it in fiendishly. From there, he knew where to thrust, pounding in and out of your cunt and hitting that spot everytime. The pain fell away into a sickly pleasure, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at how deliciously he was fucking you. 

“Jonathan!” You mewled, digging your heels into the small of his back. He was relentless, ruthlessly rutting his hips into yours and gripping your thighs so tight there’d be hand-shape sized bruises littering your body later. 

“You like that, darling?” he groaned proudly, pushing your hips further down his cock. “God, you love it, don’t you? I can feel you squeezing me…”

Your fucked out mind couldn’t discern between your lustful thoughts and your logical ones; you couldn’t help how you nodded, how you pleaded for more, despite the terror swimming in your gut -- despite how the sober part of yourself weeped. 

Then, it was like a tight rubber band around your stomach snapped; the pleasure that had been building in your gut burst, sending electric shocks of ecstasy running through your entire body. You saw white for a moment, your toes curling along his back as your thighs shook, your moan coming out terribly loud and sounding every bit his name. You didn’t mean to, of course, not again, but your mind filled in the gaps: Jonathan was fucking you, so Jonathan deserved the praise.

“Fuck!” Jonathan growled, “You came so hard… all because of this cock, all because of me.” Then, he began slamming his cock into your quivering hole quicker, desperately chasing his orgasm. 

It was only then in your foggy, post-high mind did you realize he’d never used a condom… you weren’t on anything, you hadn’t been for years, and the way Jonathan was fucking into you gave no indication he was stopping. The thought of him coming inside made your blood run cold; there’d be no escape, you’d be fucking finished— 

“Jon-- Jon, pull out,” you instructed weakly, trying to push him off you and watching how his focussed face tensed and tightened with the oncoming orgasm. 

“Sweetheart,” he panted with a frown, “what’re you talking about?”

“Please,” you whimpered helplessly, “just - just please pull out… don’t come inside, please!”

“I’m afraid not, my love,” He grunted, baring his teeth and hammering into you faster, “m’gonna paint your walls white… get you nice and pregnant, fuck, no-one’ll have to question who you belong to…”

“Don’t, no, no -- Jon, please,” you begged, struggling to get away from his assault on your cunt as he pressed his weight further onto you, pinning you down against the bed. 

But Jonathan wasn’t listening to you, not anymore. “Gon’ come, fuck, gon’ come,” he repeated, his thrusts stuttering, and you could only let out a grievous cry when you felt his cock twitch, hot spend spilling deep within you. 

Jonathan laid on top of you for a moment, pressing his forehead against your sweaty chest, before leaning back and pulling out of you. The painful stretch was reawakened, and your tears really came this time, large sobs exiting your mouth as you crumpled into a ball on the mattress. 

“Oh, my love,” he called your pet name with a furrowed brow, crawling closer to you, “what’s wrong? Was it too much? I know how delicate you can be…”

God, you could’ve screamed. He was still treating you like his little lamb… but you were beginning to feel that way, too; feeling like someone helpless he needed to protect. With the way you bunched up devastatedly beside him, it felt like Jonathan had fucking broken you, and then put you back together again with that doll image in mind. Not all the pieces fit the way he wanted them to, but Jonathan had time and brute force to fix all that…

“You -- you… I’m ruined,” you weeped, unable to explain properly with how terrified you felt, bringing your hands up to your face to shield yourself from him. 

Your plan had no future of fruition, not anymore… you’d fucked him so you could convince him you were trustful enough to leave and still be his, but you’d fallen into his trap; fucking him was the way he attached a ball and chain to your ankle.

His hand curled around your wrist roughly, pinning it to the bed and letting his other brush a tear from your eye.  “No, no, you’ll be the most gorgeous mother I know… your tits and your stomach all swollen like that? I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Jonathan said that like you wanted him to be all over you, and it only made your cries wrack through your body harder. He then pulled you close to him, pressing your tear-stained face to his chest, letting you sob into him like he brought any comfort at all. 

You suddenly felt him press up to your entrance and your tears stopped momentarily, a fearful whine exiting your mouth instead. 

At your noise, he pet you gently, reassuringly, “Don’t worry… I’m just keeping us warm… keeping my come inside, my love.” With that, Jonathan slowly slid his length past your aching lips, until he was seated so deep within you his cockhead brushed up against your cervix.

His cream squelched within you and coated himself, feeling terribly slick and sticky between your thighs; you wanted to throw up there was such a large amount of it marking you from the inside.

“God, how d’you already feel brand new… need to do this more often….” he grunted the praise, and you felt shame colour you entirely.

But despite that shame and the terror swelling in your chest, the fact him within you was a surefire way none of his seed went anywhere but inside, his cock resting there did feel nice, like his rough fuck molded your pussy to fit him perfectly.

It was confusing… all of it very mind-boggling; how his actions petrified you while still making you feel nice and appreciated and loved… how his obsession was possessive and toxic but all at once delicate and thoughtful… how you felt yourself cry because he’d come inside you but was slowly succumbing to a sweet and comfortable sleep within his wiry arms. 

There was much time to make sense of your amalgamated terror and love later, however. Nine-months long, to be exact: you later woke up to Jomathan pummeling his leaking, hard cock back into you. All you did was whimper, keep limp as he used you-- there was no choice fighting back, not anymore; not since he’d fully marked you… impregnated you… made it so there was no way you were ever leaving him. 

[hannie-dul-set]

WHAT’S WRONG WITH CEO PARK?

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — ceo! sunghoon and secretary! reader, humor, romance. w — swearing, sunghoon being a weirdo, a misplaced marriage proposal. 1.3k words.

requested by — anon: menace to everyone but you x the opposite of that.

note — i hate the cold angsty male ceo trope. so instead i turned ceo hoon into a weirdo that's a little bit too in love and doesn’t understand the concept of workplace boundaries which stresses you the fuck out!!

when you got promoted from being assistant secretary thanks to your ceo’s former secretary resigning, your co-workers did not throw you a celebration.

“you called for me, mr. park?”

instead, they threw you an advanced farewell party. it was nice working with you, said the cake dusted with stray confetti on the day of your promotion. they’re celebrating your inevitable resignation. they’re sure you’re going to follow suit after you predecessor within three months max because according to them—

“yes.”

your boss, park sunghoon, is the nastiest fucker in the planet.

“take a seat.”

you gulp, making cautious steps into your ceo’s office. he’s signing a stack of documents while you take your sweet time delaying having to sit in front of his paper-stacked desk, setting them aside the moment you sit down, sharp eyes immediately zeroing into your soul, and you start sweating.

there’s a bet on the line on when you’d eventually quit. today marks your fourth month here, and you’re pretty sure heeseung is going to win because you are in fact this close to sliding your pre-written resignation letter over his desk, adding onto his pile.

not because he’s terrible, like they all say. not because he’s temperamental.

“sunoo told me you were sick,” sunghoon starts. “why did you come to work today?”

but because you fear your boss might be a little bit in love with you.

“is...is that the only reason you asked for me?” you hesitantly say, picking on your cuticles and trying to avoid eye contact because the concern drowning your boss’s expression is just enough to drown you as well.

“you don’t look well,” he avoids your question. of course you don’t look well. you’re very, very uncomfortable right now and the main cause of that discomfort is him. “you should go home. i’ll tell jay to drive you.”

you’re pretty sure jay isn’t going to be happy with that. 

“mr. park—”

“i thought i asked you to call me sunghoon.”

your mouth is left hanging open. you’re flabbergasted. you take a second to recollect your thoughts. “...mr. park. sir,” you emphasize. you should at least be the one reminding him of your hierarchical roles at the moment. sunghoon looks upset that you’re not abiding by his request, but says nothing in protest so you continue. “i ran out of sick leaves. and there’s still so much work to do, i can’t just go home.”

“you ran out? well i’ll just give you more.” sir, that’s not how it works. “and jungwon can take care of your work. you should go home and rest.”

jungwon wouldn’t be too happy with that either. you feel your stress levels rising, headache incoming, because he’s just not listening to you. this crazy bastard, you think to yourself.

but maybe you were thinking a little too loudly.

“can you say that again?”

you slap a hand over your mouth with a gasp.

“say it again.”

you’re fucked. you just called your boss a bastard right to his face. “i’m—i’m so sorry, mr. park, i didn’t mean to—” but maybe that’s a good thing because that means you wouldn’t need to debate about resigning if he’s gonna fire you. “i apologize. i’ll accept any punishment you’ll give me.”

“no, say it again,” he hums, sounding a little too happy after being called crazy and a bastard, and you get a bad feeling. a really bad feeling. “i felt like we just got closer because of that. swear at me again.”

there’s a smile playing on your boss’s face. 

“i— i don’t think that’s appropriate, sir.”

jesus christ, he’s a bit more in love with you than you thought.

“why not?” when sunghoon gets up from behind his seat, circling out from behind his desk to lean back against it right in front of you instead, you start fearing for your life. he looks at you, arms crossed in disappointment, and he looks a little too good with rolled up sleeves and slim-fit slacks. 

crap, were you just checking out your boss?

his crazy is rubbing off on you.

“you have no trouble with swearing at and laughing around with the others,” he says. “why can’t you do the same with me?”

he is not normal, you think. thankfully not out loud this time. “sir, you’re my boss. i’m just your secretary. there’s a big gap there. i can’t just treat you the same way as i do with my co-workers.”

your boss takes in your words. he remains quiet with a stoic face for a few moments, and with each passing second of silence, you feel half a year of your life being shaved off. “ah,” he finally makes a sound after a good minute and a half. “should i give you a promotion, then?”

oh my fucking god, he’s nuts.

“boss, there’s an urgent thing you need to—”

“did i permit you to enter my office?”

your eyes widen, slapped in the face by a whiplash when your fellow secretary jake suddenly pops into the office, only to be cut off by the sharp glare and icy tone of your boss. jake’s hand doesn’t leave the doorknob when he nearly stumbles in shock with a stack of papers pressed to his chest. you see the look on his face. it’s the face of someone who’s about to get royally fucked over.

“n—no, sir. but these documents are—”

“then why are you in my office?” holy shit. so this is what they meant when they said ceo park is a bitchy demon from hell. jake looks like he’s about to piss himself. you’ve never been on the brunt of his temper— likely because he’s biased and has feelings for you, which has always felt burdensome. but now you’re a little thankful because you’d probably cry if he snapped at you like that.

“i’m sorry, i’ll leave now. i apologize.”

with that, jake makes his hasty retreat, and you’re once more left alone with your crazy boss. 

“where were we?” he says. “oh, right. your promotion.”

you’re starting to feel dizzy. 

“i’ve never liked how seojoo handled things. you can take his spot as the sales department head.” you have to stop him. you have to stop him before he actually fires a competent employee and gives you their spot as a courtship gift. “wait. i think you’d prefer working in HR actually. it’s a shame ms. kim is going to lose her position, but i can just—”

“mr. park—”

“sunghoon,” he cuts you off. “call me sunghoon.”

you look at him, exasperated. “sir,” you say. “i don’t think this is right.”

sunghoon raises a brow. “you don’t like HR? which department would you prefer then?”

you can’t. you can’t do this anymore. you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander out of stress, because they inadvertently land on the shiny gold glint of his nameplate, which is a terribly bad move following after his question because sunghoon notices, and sunghoon gets the very, very wrong idea.

oh, no. oh, no no no no no—

“i see.”

he doesn’t! he doesn’t see! you aren’t coveting his seat! you just want to go back to work and stop dealing with your insane and far too in love with you boss!

“i’m afraid i can’t give away my position as ceo,” he tells you. you swallow, shutting your eyes because you don’t want to acknowledge the mess you’ve just accidentally made, but your lack of vision definitely doesn’t interfere with your sense of hearing.

what you hear next sounds clearer than you’d like it to be.

“how about the position of being the ceo’s fiancé instead?”

that’s it.

“i will be getting back to work now, mr. park.”

there is something very wrong with your boss. it’s not in your job description to fix him.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH CEO PARK? © hannie-dul-set, 2023.