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onlymingyus · 11 months ago

Text

Like We Just Met

pairing; yoon jeonghan x jeon wonwoo x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; friends to lovers, reunited friends, mild dom!jeonghan, mild mlm, flashbacks to high school, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, temperature play, wonwoo is able to lift the reader, pet names/nicknames, cameos from other members -- as always if i have left anything out and its glaring let me know.

w/c; 9.8k

a/n; thank you to @onlyseokmins for proofreading for me!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

The lobby of the Eleva was impressive and caused you to take a deep breath. You had been inside nice hotels before but none of them seemed up to par now as you looked up at the ornate ceiling.

You had moved to the city a few years ago after getting a job as an intern for Artistaire and just a few months ago you had been moved into the position of editor. You were on a fast track to becoming assistant editor-in-chief if you did well with what you had been tasked with starting today.

You could hear your boss’ voice in your head as your heels clicked over the marble, making your way towards the receptionist's desk. The conversation was so fresh in your mind that your fingers were trembling around the leather strap of your bag, held tightly against your shoulder.

“It’s the most important article of the year for Artistaire. I’m trusting you to meet with both of them and find out everything about them. I want every detail. Don’t stick to the script, Y/N.”

The article was for Artistaire’s most influential of the year. It was not only a great honor to be picked and interviewed for the article but also to be the interviewer. It could make or break someone’s career.

Your biggest problem was that you were given very little detail about the men you were interviewing. It could be anyone. The entire point of the interview was to go in blind with no preconceived notions about who you were going to meet. You weren’t supposed to do any research and to get everything in the article from the interview so that it reads “raw and fresh” for the audience.

“Get the dirty truth for me. I want to know everything, from what they eat in a day to who they are fucking.” René had smiled at you when you let out a breath at her crude wording before she added. “I know how much you like the corner office with the view, darling.”

“Do it for the corner office with the view." You mutter to yourself as you step up to the desk and give a bright smile to the pretty receptionist, who looked a bit bored with you before you even spoke. “Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, from Artistaire.”

Pursing her lips, the woman sighs, glancing at the screen in front of her, before her lips turn into a slight smirk and she meets your eyes, reaching for something out of your view.

“Take the elevator to the 100th floor. You’ll need this, and from there you’ll be escorted to the penthouse, Miss Y/L/N. Enjoy your Eleva experience.”

Furrowing your brows at her wording, you take the black card from her fingers, glancing over the gold engraved lettering before glancing towards where she had directed you to go. Whispering a soft thank you, you turn towards the elevator, feeling the knot in your stomach only getting tighter. Who the fuck were you interviewing?

Stepping into the elevator, you glance around the mirrored walls before looking at the buttons that run from B1 to 100. You knew Eleva was a tall building but the idea of being in the penthouse on the 100th floor was one that you had never thought you’d get to experience. You couldn’t help but bite at your lip to suppress a smile, wondering what the view of the city would look like from that high as you tapped the card against the reader and pressed 100, listening to a soft chime as the doors shut.

As the elevator rises and the minutes pass, you lean towards the mirrored door in front of you to check your appearance. You had tried to look good, especially not knowing who it could be that you were interviewing. The only thing that you knew was that it was two influential men. That was a broad term with an even broader range of candidates.

Politicians, actors, affluent businessmen, influencers, authors... You had spent hours trying to go over names but the list was so long with people that you felt that their actions and accomplishments could merit the interview.

Hearing one last soft chime, you take a single step back from the elevator door and let out a breath to calm your nerves as the elevator comes to a stop on the 100th floor. With the doors opening, you meet the brown eyes of a handsome man who smiles at you, giving you a quick once over.

“Welcome to Eleva, Miss..."

He didn’t know your name. Furrowing your brows, you step forward and clear your throat as you offer the man your hand, letting him take it gently into his.

“Y/L/N.”

Your voice is meeker than you intended, but it was a bit daunting to see the long hallway with a single ornate door that seemed to loom in the distance. Was this the man who you were interviewing?

“Miss Y/L/N. I apologize; when Artistaire set this up, they didn’t give many details. It seems like that’s part of the interview process. I’m Hansol, the personal assistant of Mr. Yo–”

The name was hanging on the tip of Hansol’s lips when he smiled and tilted his head, thinking better of it.

“Supposed to be a surprise, isn’t it?”

He was charming but obviously not who you were interviewing. You smile at Hansol taking back your hand as he walks beside you towards the penthouse door.

“Yes, it’s a silly premise, honestly but it’s supposed to provide a “real” interview experience. The idea that my editor came up with was that this creates tension that the reader can feel through words.”

Hansol smiles, glancing over at you once again and giving you a quick appraising look before reaching for the door in front of him with a sigh.

“Seems like it works out. The articles are always interesting. May I take your keycard?”

You look confused for a split second until you remember the black and gold card in your fingers and lift it, handing it over to the man in front of you. With another grin, Hansol taps the card against a reader on the door and pushes it open for you, letting you go inside first.

“Mr. Y–” Laughing and once again catching himself, Hansol lifts his free hand to rub at the back of his neck before correcting his words. “My employer and the other gentleman you will be interviewing are right this way. Follow me, Miss Y/L/N. Also, if you need anything during your visit with us at Eleva, just ask for me personally, alright?”

Offering him a nod, you follow, lowering your eyes to your bag, ready to take out your things as you enter a large living area and your breath is taken away by not only the aesthetic of the place but also the floor and the ceiling windows, offering you the view you had imagined in the elevator.

“It’s stunning, right?”

A familiar voice causes your brows to furrow even as you take a step towards the windows. Why did that man sound so familiar?

Jeonghan tilts his head, looking at you from behind as you look out the window at the view. He could tell you were gorgeous even from where he was standing but he hadn’t seen your face just yet. You seemed to have been startled by his voice; that hadn’t been his intention but he did have that effect on people occasionally.

“My apologies; I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Yoon Jeon—”

“Jeonghan?”

Turning towards him, your eyes widening, you stare at him as if you had just seen a ghost. Swallowing hard, Hansol takes a step back towards Jeonghan, pursing his lips before offering him the penthouse key.

“If you need me, sir – “

“Then I’ll call you. You can go, Hansol.”

A smile pulls at Jeonghan’s lips as he steps towards you, putting the keycard into his suit jacket pocket. Dark eyes move over your face and body before the man you have known for years is within arms reach and he laughs in disbelief.

“No way…Kitten?”

Your eyes were searching Jeonghan so closely to make sure he was real that you hadn’t realized that another man had moved into the room. Hearing the nickname that you had once been called in high school by your two best friends, you glance to your right, only to take a step back in shock to see Wonwoo smiling at you.

“I– no one has called me that in a long time.”

Grinning, Jeonghan reaches out to take your hand, as you seem to almost stumble in surprise at seeing ghosts from your past. He wasn’t worried about the glass behind you breaking but he was concerned about you getting hurt from falling down, as unstable as you seemed on your feet.

“Well, no one but us called you that anyway.

It had been around a decade since you had seen either of your friends in person after the three of you had made promises to stay in touch. Graduation had come and gone and the promise became harder and harder to keep as each of you went in different directions.

You knew they were successful. Jeonghan’s family had always been successful so it was a clear path for him into business. Wonwoo, you had seen him as the face of many brands and the star of many dramas and movies. Meanwhile, your road to success had taken a bit longer and you were still climbing. Now your climb was looking like a shear cliff face as you looked at the two men in front of you with expectant looks in their eyes.

“Holy shit, you look great, Kitten.”

Wonwoo’s voice was quiet but warm, just as you remembered it. He had always been a comfort in your life when you were younger and you had found yourself cheering him on with each award he had received over his years of blooming into a renowned actor.

“Wonwoo… thanks.”

Jeonghan squeezes your fingers with a light chuckle slipping from his lips as you start to come back down to earth. It was like you were waking up from a dream and he could see the realization starting to register in your eyes. Your fingers pull back from his as you clear your throat, your eyes dropping to the floor with a quick shake of your head. You were trying to put on a confident facade.

“I, this is a surprise. Clearly, as the interview states, none of us knew who would be interviewed. So this would be a biased article.”

You were so fucked. In so many ways, you were so fucked. Your fast track to the corner office with the view was going into the lap of Karina and you could see her too pretty smile now. You could picture her crossing her legs and flirting with Jeonghan and Wonwoo the entire interview; it was making your stomach turn, but you couldn’t do this now.

“What do you mean? Are you refusing to do the interview?”

Lifting your gaze to meet Jeonghan’s eyes, you press your lips together, shifting in place as you try to figure out how best to phrase what you need to say.

"I'm not refusing; I just don’t think it’s how the interview is supposed to go. The entire point is to be unbiased and raw. I’m supposed to ask you questions as if I’ve just met you, but clearly."

Smirking, Wonwoo shakes his head, moving closer to you. There was so much about you that hadn’t changed. He had beat himself up for years for losing contact with you and Jeonghan but luck changed a few years ago when he stayed at one of Jeonghan’s hotels and now here you are standing in front of him. You were always talking in circles and you needed someone to sit you down and get you to stop spinning your wheels.

“It kinda is like we just met, well again... High school was a long time ago, Y/N.”

– 10 years ago –

Jeonghan grins at you as he leans against his locker, watching as you struggle to get your textbook back in its proper place. He knew he could help you but it was cute to listen to your tiny whines. You were nervous about exams and about university acceptance letters, while he was doing his best not to let it show that he was nervous about other things.

“Why do they make them so small?”

“So that teachers can write tardy notes, Kitten.”

Wonwoo smirks as he steps in behind you to take your book, lifting the organizer with ease to slip the book under as you glance over your shoulder at him. Things had changed between you and your best friends over the last year of high school but none of you were ready to talk about it.

Each of the boys had started wanting to spend more time with you. They had started standing closer to you, touching you more, and there was always something left unsaid.

“Thanks, Woo… Jeonghan was just watching me struggle. At least I can count on one of you.”

Laughing, Jeonghan reaches over to pinch your cheek, causing you to pout your lips and pull back from his touch and teasing.

“Well, you show your claws when you get whiny, Kitten. It’s cute…”

Your cheeks burning, you glance up towards the bell as it rings and becomes your saving grace. Both of the boys watch as you clear your throat, brushing your hands over the front of your outfit, before you look up at them with a nod.

“Anyway… I will not be tardy. See you after school.”

Watching you walk quickly away, Wonwoo leans against your locker, giving a glance towards Jeonghan, who lets out a breath as his eyes move over your frame. They were thinking the same things, but maybe it was just teenage hormones getting to them. But maybe it was something more.

– Present –

Letting out a breath, you step away from Jeonghan as he speaks, only for Wonwoo to move in and take your arm, leading you towards the sofa. The feeling of being back in high school, either of the men on either side of you, made it feel like the air was water.

“Jeonghan’s right. Why are you so worried about it anyway? It’ll be a great article. I’ve read your stuff. You’re a great writer, your editor has nothing to worry about. I know I’m not worried.”

Shrugging as a way to agree with Wonwoo, Jeonghan sits down on the other side of you, crossing his leg over his knee, his arm draped over the back of the sofa behind you.

“You can ask me anything. I’ll answer if I don’t think I’ve ever lied to you, Kitten.” When you and Wonwoo look at him Jeonghan grins and tilts his head, adding, “I’ve skimmed around the truth.”

Shaking your head, you look down at your bag, now resting on your lap. Maybe they were right. Maybe you could still do this; maybe this was a good thing. It could give you an edge. When you nod, your brows furrowing, Jeonghan grins at Wonwoo, lifting his brows.

“Yeah? Not so freaked out by us anymore? Still pretty much the same people you went to school with.”

That made you laugh, both men watching as you cleared your throat to cover it, leaning down to put your bag on the floor, taking out an iPad to take notes on before crossing your legs. Wonwoo can’t help but watch how the fabric of your skirt stretches around your thighs as Jeonghan sucks at his teeth, letting his eyes run along the buttons of your blouse before you look up to meet his eyes.

“You aren’t the same. Isn’t that what we just said? Not in high school anymore. You are... what do you do, Jeonghan?”

You had known Jeonghan was a chaebol but that was such an umbrella term in the business world. He could own a multitude of things and hold many titles. His lips pull up into a smile as his eyes follow your hand, pulling the pen from its holder so you can start taking down your notes.

“My father put me in charge of all the hotels and resorts.”

Writing his name, you start to write what he was telling you when the scale of what he had just said hits you. A soft chuckle to your right brings you back to reality as you shake your head and continue where you left off, muttering under your breath.

“All hotels and the resorts..."

Swallowing hard, you glance at Jeonghan to find his eyes haven't moved from you at all. It was as if he were trying to stare a hole through you or, worse, undress you with his eyes. Quickly looking away, you continue your train of thought into a question.

“In all countries?”

“All hotels and resorts are mine. We own 15 in the United States alone. I plan to open five in Europe over the next three years. There’s a scoop for you, Kitten. Make sure you jot it down.”

Your hand was shaking, and you could see the nerves in your handwriting as you tried to take your notes. It isn't until Jeonghan leans in a bit closer to you to look at what you are writing that you press your lips together and pause.

“Just…Y/N, I think would be better.”

Pursing his lips, Jeonghan meets your eyes once again before giving you a playful smile and leaning back, lifting his hand from his thigh as if he were submitting.

“Whatever you want, Y/N. Kitten is just a hard habit to break.”

Both watch as you flex your fingers and go back to your task, writing a few more notes before looking up to Wonwoo, who is turned more to the side to face you, his legs crossed towards you. He was breath taking, they both were but after years of seeing him on a big screen or a billboard, it was startling to see him so close once again.

“Have a question for me?”

Wonwoo watches you nod, your eyes dropping back to your tablet, before you take a breath and are finally able to remember how to speak.

“Your last movie, First Snow, was a hit.” Watching Wonwoo smile, you can’t help but do the same. You knew he had been nominated for several awards and was likely being cast from the hit. “You seemed to have great onscreen chemistry with your co-star…anything blossoming from that?”

You watch as the man in front of you laughs and shifts on the sofa to brush his hand over his mouth. With a quick shake of his head, Wonwoo’s eyes lift back to meet yours, making you feel shy once again.

“She’s sweet, incredibly so, but no. I do hope I get to work with her in the future but as for my personal life... Things haven’t changed much from when you knew me before.”

That you very much doubted, your brows furrowing as you scoff, jotting down a few more words on the iPad on your lap.

– 11 years ago –

“Just ask her.”

Wonwoo shook his head as he watched you smile at the tall boy with perfect teeth. He might be friends with Mingyu but that didn’t make him want to punch him any less as he and Jeonghan watched him flirt with you and worse, you flirted back.

“She doesn’t know how you feel and that you want her to go with you to the dance if you don’t ask her.”

Groaning, Wonwoo looked at Jeonghan, who had his arms crossed and his tongue pressed into his cheek after saying his own peace when he really had nothing he could say.

“So does that mean you are going to do the same?”

Shooting a look at his friend, Jeonghan rolls his eyes and turns away from the scene in front of him as Mingyu dares to let his fingers brush over yours. He wanted to do more than punch the boy. He wanted to pay him to move to a different school at this point.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one pining like a love sick puppy.”

“Says the dude who just looked like he was going to go in swinging just now.”

Sighing, Jeonghan turns towards his locker, using his fist to open it rather than a normal civil way, before shrugging.

“Whatever. She can do what she wants and so can you. One more year of this hell hole and I’m out of here and on to bigger fish.”

You look up at the sound of Jeonghan’s fist hitting his locker, along with Mingyu's hand dropping from yours, when you mutter your best friend’s name. Everyone knew you were pretty much off limits but every once in a while someone got gutsy and tried. Mingyu had been feeling confident but he hadn’t realized how close Jeonghan and Wonwoo had been.

“I–shit. Can we talk about the dance later, Y/N?”

Watching you frown, barely nodding, Mingyu sighed, knowing his chances were slim to none now as you walked towards the two men who took up most of your time.

“Jeonghan, what the hell are you doing? Did you hurt your hand?”

Your voice pulls Wonwoo and Jeonghan from their conversation and back to reality, where you were standing right in front of them. Starting to speak, Jeonghan tries to come up with an excuse when you grab his hand, bringing it close to you to look over his knuckles to inspect the damage.

Wonwoo just stays quiet for a moment, watching how gentle you are, blowing softly on the rough skin before placing a kiss over his knuckles and lifting your head with furrowed brows. You looked confused. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t like you knew how Jeonghan felt or how Wonwoo felt.

“I’m okay, Kitten. I just couldn’t get the door open, so I got mad.”

Glancing at Wonwoo, you wait for him to tell you the truth but he just sighs and nods along with what Jeonghan says, though you can tell Jeonghan is telling you a half truth. He was good at those and Wonwoo was good at following the leader.

Reaching over to the locker, you pull up on the latch and watch it swing open easily, much to Jeonghan’s dismay. With a sigh, the boy pushes it back closed before leaning his shoulder against it, looking over yours towards Mingyu, who was pouting and watching you while talking to another tall boy named Seokmin.

“Minkyu is waiting for you.”

Sighing, you glance over your shoulder towards him, offering the handsome boy a smile and getting one in return before you cause his to fall instantly when you turn away.

“Mingyu, Jeonghan… but you know that. Why are you so mean to him? He’s nice. He likes you. Wants to be as cool as you.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan lets out a scoff before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you towards the doors that would lead towards your next class but not his. Wonwoo just shakes his head, following in tow, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“He wishes.”

– Present –

“He’s not lying. I’ve probably dated more than him.”

Lifting your head back towards Jeonghan, you feel your stomach tighten at his words. You shouldn’t care if either of them were dating. You were doing your job. This was something that your readers cared about. They didn’t really care about what their jobs were or what they entailed; they wanted to know who they were sleeping with.

“Oh? Currently? On your way to finding Mrs. Yoon?”

Jeonghan’s lips turn up in a smirk before a full grin spreads across his face. He can’t help but see the look on your face when you ask the question. Did you really want an answer to that question?

“No, not even close. Hasn’t been a steady girl in my life since you, Kit–mm, sorry, Y/N.”

Swallowing hard, you push your tongue against your cheek and hum as if that is a normal answer to your question. You write down part of it but omit anything about yourself, which causes Wonwoo to chuckle as he runs his fingers along the back of the sofa.

“Giving the readers hope?”

Jeonghan leans forward at Wonwoo’s comment to read what you have written down. You scoff at his smirk, pulling the tablet back from them both, feeling even more like you were back in high school with them both.

“I–sort of. It’s my job. I’m supposed to give them a raw interview with two fascinating people. I’m supposed to show them the most intimate parts of those people and if there are facts like that, omitting parts that they don’t need to know could be misunderstood –"

You suck in your breath when you feel Jeonghan’s fingers up your arm towards your shoulder as he shakes his head. A soft sigh falls from his lips as he meets your eyes and you try to finish your thought only to lose it midsentence.

“I get it; I do. Your readers are horny. They look at successful people and dream about what it would be like to fuck them. But no matter what you omit, there is still the elephant in the room.”

There was no elephant in the room. The room was clear of any elephants. Shaking your head, you try to ignore his fingers as Jeonghan walks them along your shoulder blade.

“They do like that sort of thing. It sells magazines. So I will omit it. I mean, looking at this objectively, you are both ideal. Incredibly attractive, wealthy, and single.”

Grinning at your reaction and your attempt to ignore him, Jeonghan glances over to Wonwoo, who had been watching you both like a hawk. It was getting interesting.

“That’s kind of you to say, Kitten.”

Blowing out a breath, you shift from Jeonghan’s wandering fingers to shoot a look at Wonwoo when he calls you the nickname. Now they were both teasing you. You were struggling to keep this professional and they knew it. This wasn’t some game like they thought it was. This was your job on the line.

“Not my name, Wonwoo.”

“Is to me, but my apologies, Y/N. Keep going with your questions. What’s next on your list?”

Focus. The word is repeating in your head like a prayer. You look back down at your iPad and lick your lips as you listen to Jeonghan laugh softly next to you. God, he was the same and yet worse in many ways. He was still unbearably confident and cocky but now he was a grown man.

Lifting his hand to rest his thumb against his teeth, Wonwoo watches your eyes narrow at Jeonghan’s reaction. He could tell you were getting annoyed. This was better than high school because he wasn’t that kid who lacked confidence.

"It's... tell me about an important event in your life that led you to where you are today.”

Jeonghan’s brows furrow as Wonwoo tilts his head toward the question. That was a loaded topic. Pursing his lips, you watch as Wonwoo reaches up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose before he meets your eyes once more.

“Do you remember when you pushed me to try out for that play senior year?”

Your smile causes Wonwoo to mirror you. Of course you remembered it. Wonwoo had been showing interest in acting and it might have been a high school play but he had been too nervous to try it out at first. You could remember going over lines with him for hours before the audition, before you and Jeonghan sat in the auditorium in awe as he took the stage and looked like he had been born to act.

“Really? That’s what led you to this? Playing Tony in West Side Story?”

Still smiling, Wonwoo nods, leaning to rest his head on his palm as his elbow pushes into the back cushion of the sofa. He remembered looking down at you from the stage opening night and finding confidence when his voice wavered. You were more important to him than you would ever know.

“Yeah… Trust me, I don’t put it on my resume.”

A short chuckle from Jeonghan draws your eyes back over to him as he leans his head back, remembering the play and how much you had wanted Wonwoo to do it. You had been good at pushing them to be great; now he was wishing they had done the same for you.

“I can’t imagine why, Wonwoo. Couldn’t be because I still have a shitty copy of you butchering Something’s Coming from opening night.”

Reaching behind you, Wonwoo smacks his best friend, causing the other man to laugh and for you to lean forward, a laugh of your own, slipping from your lips. You could feel your heart tightening in your chest. You had missed Jeonghan and Wonwoo more than you could even admit to yourself.

“You said you deleted it.”

"Yeah, well, I lied. It makes great blackmail for when we are old and decrepit.”

Sitting back up when the men have gone back to their "corners", you just shake your head, putting your pen back on your tablet, and trying to word Wonwoo’s answer in the best way you could without inserting yourself into it.

“What about you, Jeonghan? What led you here?”

Sighing, Jeonghan rolls his eyes—not at you but more at the answer he came up with—before pouting his lips a bit and looking up at the tall celiing.

“I mean, the obvious answer is my father. My family led me here directly but honestly,"

You watch Jeonghan’s face soften, your eyes moving over his sharp jaw as you chew on your lips, until he looks back at you and scoffs again but this time it’s like he has made a discovery.

“You.”

Looking behind you at Wonwoo, you give him a confused look before he shrugs and gestures back at you, sending you back towards Jeonghan, who just smiles fondly.

“I’m serious. Graduation day.”

– 10 years ago –

You watch as Jeonghan flicks the tassel on his graduate cap from one side to the other as he leans back in his chair. Most of the other students had left with their families apart from you, Wonwoo, and Jeonghan. Wonwoo had promised his mom to come home soon but after she saw the look on Jeonghan’s face, she told him to take his time.

“I’m sure there was a reason he wasn’t here, Hannie…”

Rarely did you call Jeonghan anything other than his full name but today called for all the best tactics. Today should be one of the best days of your lives and your best friend was sad. He had been so proud of the honor sash around his shoulders and the speech he was giving but the moment he stepped out on the stage and started to speak, he noticed the space reserved for his father was noticeably empty.

“Sure, Kitten. You don’t have to try so hard to make it better. You didn’t do it.”

He was right. It hadn’t been your fault but there was something you could do to make him smile. Leaning towards Jeonghan, catch his eye before you press a soft kiss to his cheek and hold on to his arm. As much as he denied it, you knew how much he loved skinship when it came from you or Wonwoo.

A sigh falls from Jeonghan’s lips but his lips do pull up at the sides and Wonwoo’s do the same, knowing you were succeeding in what you were trying to do. He hated to see his best friend like this. It wasn’t fair. Jeonghan had worked his ass off to be the perfect son and he deserved so much better today.

“Stop slobbering on me.”

You just laugh, pressing more kisses on his warm cheek. Jeonghan groans, grabbing your arm and turning his head away from you, only for you to turn it back a bit too far, letting your lips catch his briefly. Clearing your throat, you stop instantly and drop your hands, feeling heat rising in your neck and cheeks as you look away.

"Sorry, uh, but no, anyway... We should go get dinner before we all go home. We are fucking graduates. Full ass adults who will be going to university soon.”

Wonwoo just stares at Jeonghan as he sits in shock from feeling your lips on his, even as you try to make everyone forget it had happened. Reaching up to touch his lips, Jeonghan watches you do a cute little dance in your chair before shaking his head and furrowing his brows.

“I gotta get home, Kitten. I’m sure my dad is at home. I need to tell him to shove something up his ass. You know, like his legacy.”

Calming down from your accidental kiss, you shake your head and reach for Jeonghan’s arm as he tries to stand up to leave. You knew he would regret his decisions later. Wonwoo follows your lead, shaking his head and coaxing Jeonghan back into the chair, muttering for the other to calm down.

“I know you are upset, Jeonghan. You have every right to be, but... listen to me, okay? Seriously, look at me.”

You wait until Jeonghan sighs, rolling his eyes to look at you, his face softening as he does, knowing he can’t stay annoyed as he looks at your pretty face.

“If you really don’t want to work for your dad and do the business stuff, then don’t but it’s all you’ve ever talked about. So don’t throw it away because of his selfishness. Use this to fuel yourself to work harder and get what you want. Be the Yoon Jeonghan I know.

– Present –

“I ran off spite for a few years but eventually I got my own space and now I am doing shit on my own. He gave me my own slice, like you said he would. I worked harder every day remembering what you said.”

Jeonghan smiles while watching your lips form into a bit of a pout. He could tell you were remembering the conversation and graduation. He remembered it just as fondly, maybe for other reasons but he also remembered dinner afterwards with you and Wonwoo. He remembered sneaking off with drinks and the promises that all three had failed to keep.

"Anyway, that and a kiss led me here.”

Writing down Jeonghan’s answer, you stop midsentence to scoff and glance up at him, letting out a breath, only to scoff a second time in disbelief. He surely wasn’t talking about the accidental kiss on graduation day.

“Not a real kiss.”

Biting his lip, Jeonghan tilts his head and narrows his eyes as Wonwoo laughs and puts his hands up when you shoot him another look.

“I’m just… listen, Y/N… The kiss was just that—a kiss. And an 18 year old Jeonghan... He talked about it for a while. Trust me.”

That confession from Wonwoo made you look back at Jeonghan, who was narrowing his eyes at his best friend, only to soften them when they met yours. Lifting his hands, Jeonghan sighs once, trying to speak, before sighing again and laughing.

“I did talk about it for a bit. I mean, clearly, I remember it well. I mean, come on, Kitten, you had to know how we felt about you.”

Shaking your head, you sit up straighter on the sofa, looking from Jeonghan to Wonwoo for clarification as if a bomb had just gone off in the room. You knew how you felt about them and that they had teased you about it but never in a million years had you thought they had felt anything for you.

“No, no, no, I didn’t. What? What do you mean by how you felt about me? “We?” Clarify, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan laughs when you use his full name and your thoughts start to spin in circles. The interview is the last thing on your mind now. Taking a breath, he reaches forward, taking your iPad from your hands and leaning to put it on the coffee table so he can have your full attention. But that only causes you to flex your fingers and then play with the end of your skirt out of nerves as you wait.

“We went to the same school for four years, Y/N. We saw you every single day and from day one, we latched on to you. At first, it was just because you were this cute frisky girl with a sassy mouth that could keep up but then it was more about the fact that you were ours.” Glancing down at your fingers as you tug at the end of your skirt, Jeonghan reaches to wrap his fingers around your wrist to make you stop as he speaks. “Did you really not see it? How we’d chase off anyone else or get pissed off if you’d give any of them a chance?”

Wonwoo shifts beside you, his breath closer than you had remembered it being when you feel it almost against your ear as his deeper voice chimes in to add to Jeonghan’s point.

“The stupidest thing we did was not keep our promises to keep in touch during university. Letting life get in the way... You feel him smile into his words with how close his lips are to your ear. “But I guess life has a way of correcting mistakes.”

You glance over your shoulder, brows furrowed, ready to ask him what he means when you find Wonwoo as close as you had pictured. If you hadn’t stopped yourself, you would have found yourself in a similar situation that you had on graduation day a decade earlier, as you stopped your lips just in time, taking a breath before they could brush over Wonwoo’s.

“I don’t know. This isn't—I could lose my job.”

It’s Jeonghan’s hand that slides over your thigh, gripping it just hard enough to make you want to spread them, which causes you to lose your resolve and causes a breathy, soft moan to slip from between your lips and into the air. Wonwoo smiles just a few centimeters from your lips as he shakes his head and furrows his brows.

“Fuck the job, fuck the interview. If you want it that bad, you can ask the questions afterwards. If you lose the job, they didn’t deserve you, and we will take care of you or get you whatever job you want, Kitten.”

He wanted you to say yes or take that final step. Wonwoo wasn’t going to do it but he was giving you all the right answers. Whining, you try to quickly weigh the pros and cons, a lifetime of regrets washing over you before they fade away when you close your eyes and press your lips against Wonwoo’s with purpose.

Jeonghan furrows his brows and bites his bottom lip hard. He wasn’t upset that it was Wonwoo you had kissed first this time. It didn’t matter to him; all that mattered was that it was happening. All that mattered was that you were here and back in their lives by some random chance and he wasn’t letting you go again.

Pressing his fingers into your soft skin, Jeonghan groans softly against your hair as your tongue glides along Wonwoo’s and you finally let him coax your legs apart. He could feel the warmth of your pussy under your skirt and he was dying to get his hands on you, even if it was just for a moment.

"Baby, you are so fucking pretty. You always have been but now, God, you're stunning. Never letting you out of my sight again, you understand?”

Reaching up to turn your head from Wonwoo, Jeonghan listens to your whimpers and soft complaints but he wants your answer. When you meet his eyes, Jeonghan runs his thumb along your bottom lip and smiles at your reaction—the way your mouth parts and your eyes flutter closed for a moment only to open and meet his once again.

“I said, do you understand?”

One hand on your chin, the other caresses your thigh up to your panties, where Jeonghan’s fingers tease you, causing your body to jerk with each pass of his fingers. Wonwoo smiles while watching you with Jeonghan, not phased by the other man pulling you away from him. Instead, he turns his attention to your neck as he works a few of the buttons on your blouse open before sliding his hand into your shirt over the top of your bra to squeeze your breast, making you arch against his chest.

“Answer Jeonghan, Kitten.”

They expected you to answer a question and think clearly when you were not only living out your teenage wet dreams but also the fantasies of every female that knew either of their names? Pressing your lips together, you furrow your brows and nod, regaining your resolve, before letting out a breath along with your words.

“I understand.”

Jeonghan grins, leaning forward to press his lips to yours, finally claiming his prize while also rewarding you for your answer. The kiss is gentle, yet you can feel the desire behind it as his teeth catch your bottom lip, nipping at it before he pulls back with a soft groan.

“Good, girl. Wonwoo, I want her up where I can see her.”

You weren’t sure what Jeonghan had meant but apparently Wonwoo did, as you found yourself on your feet before your legs were around the man’s waist so he could carry you where he wanted you. Smirking against your lips, Wonwoo glances behind you, following Jeonghan to the kitchen, stopping to sit you on the counter, where he stays situated between your thighs.

Hands slide over your thighs, and fingers bunch up your skirt, urging you to lift your hips so the material can be pushed to your waist, granting you a peck on the lips from Wonwoo. You watch as the man groans, glancing down between your legs, his left hand gripping your thigh as his right thumb traces the growing wet spot on the center of your panties.

“So wet already. Did you ever think about doing this? You can tell me, Kitten. I won’t tell anyone else.”

The teasing tone in his deep voice makes your breath quicken as Wonwoo steps back and you watch him pull his dress shirt from his pants. His slender fingers move over the buttons with quick precision so he can pull them from his body and toss them to the floor, leaving him shirtless in front of you.

“I–”

The words get caught in your throat as you stare at Wonwoo, your eyes moving over his toned abdomen and chest. You had seen him shirtless in school and then in ads and movies but you had never imagined you would see him like this.

“Words, baby, use them.”

Jeonghan smirks, running his fingers over your hair as he stands beside you, watching you panic over Wonwoo. He was still fully dressed, though one glance at his dress pants told you he was just as aroused as you and Wonwoo.

“I did, many times, but I always felt bad.”

You hear Jeonghan coo, then feel his lips press against your jaw as you lean your head to the side, watching Wonwoo lean over to kiss your thighs. His fingers scratch along your thighs up to your hips before they finally press under the elastic of your pants and start to shimmy them down your legs to your feet.

“You didn’t have to feel bad. I was doing the same thing and I know Wonwoo was too. We will just make up for lost time, right?”

Jeonghan whispers the last of his words against your ear and you can only moan out a yes to not only the feeling of his hot breath against the shell of your ear, but also Wonwoo’s tongue running along your slit in one fluid motion.

Leaning your head back, you gasp out Wonwoo’s name, reaching your hand down to thread your fingers through his wavy hair as Jeonghan smirks against your ear at your reaction. Glancing between your legs to watch, he furrows his brows, feeling his cock throb in his pants, not only to the visual of Wonwoo eating you out but also to the sounds coming out of your mouth and the wet sound of Wonwoo’s mouth on your pussy.

“Fuck… He’s right; you are wet. Can I feel too?”

Slipping his fingers between your folds and Wonwoo’s mouth, Jeonghan is surprised that your thighs jerk to his touch. That wasn't your reaction to Wonwoo. Lifting his head, Wonwoo holds your legs and takes a breath as Jeonghan’s fingers circle your clit, only for you to moan and slide your hips back from his touch shyly.

“Your fingers are so cold."

Jeonghan smiles, tilting his head and pulling his fingers back to rub them together, feeling your slick between them. He knew his hands were cold but he hadn’t expected you to have such a reaction to them. Glancing down at Wonwoo, Jeonghan just winks, turning from you both towards the cabinet to take down a glass and moving to the fridge to get ice and water as Wonwoo’s lips press to your thighs, making you split your attention between the two.

“What are you doing, Jeonghan?”

“Having fun, Kitten. What are you doing?”

Your eyes follow Jeonghan as he sits the glass down beside you before dipping two of his fingers into the ice water. His eyes meet yours as a darker smirk takes over his pretty lips and you whine, feeling Wonwoo’s mouth back on your pussy, his fingers digging into your hips and pulling you back towards his tongue.

“I–shit. What if I can’t handle it?”

Jeonghan bites at his lip, the smile ever present, as he finally takes his fingers from the cold water.

“Just tell me and I’ll move them, but I’ll make it worth it. I promise… Wonwoo, lean back.”

Hearing his name, Wonwoo groans a bit frustrated, already feeling drunk off your pussy. He wanted to make you cum on his tongue and with how you had started to moan, he felt like you were getting close. Still, he wasn’t going to argue with Jeonghan so he licks his lips and leans back a few inches to watch Jeonghan touch his ice cold fingers to your clit and your reaction as you try to close your thighs around his head and the fingers.

“Oh my god!”

The cold sends a shock through your body that you weren’t fully expecting and when Jeonghan traps your clit between two fingers, squeezing it ever so slightly, you feel like the counter is going to break under your fingers.

“Jeon—Jeonghan!”

As quickly as you say his name, Jeonghan moves his fingers and uses his free hand to push Wonwoo’s head back to your waiting pussy. You feel hot breath and a warm tongue running over your now chilled folds. Smiling against your skin at the feeling, Wonwoo can’t help the excitement he feels at working together with Jeonghan. He enjoys making you feel good, especially as you grind against his mouth.

“See? You liked it, didn’t you?”

All you can do is nod as you feel your orgasm on the precipice. Jeonghan watches your face and listens to your breath starting to hitch when he tugs at Wonwoo’s hair, pulling him back, and listens to your curses as your orgasm is pulled from you.

Ice cold fingers slide between your folds and towards your dripping entrance, where Jeonghan works two into you, curling them upwards. Quickly, you forget how upset you are at him as you see stars and your nails dig into his forearm, cum seeping around his fingers as your orgasm takes control of your senses.

Wonwoo just watches, entranced by what is happening as your thighs start to shake and Jeonghan’s fingers thrust into you. He watches as you roll your hips towards the man’s palm and Jeonghan groans your name like a soft, sweet prayer.

“Here… I know you want it.”

Nodding, Wonwoo leans forward, licking the cum from Jeonghan’s fingers before grabbing your hips again and running his tongue along your folds, cleaning you of every last trace of your cum. Your mind spins with what you have just experienced and watched as you find yourself leaning back on the counter, your chest rising and falling quickly.

It is Jeonghan who pulls Wonwoo from between your thighs as you whimper from overstimulation, tears running from the corners of your eyes. It isn’t even that he’s concerned that you aren’t enjoying it; it is more that he doesn’t want his friend to miss the image.

Wonwoo just groans, running his palm over his wet mouth and chin before leaning down over you and the counter to capture your lips. His thumb is running along your temple to push away the tears as he mutters against your lips about never leaving you and never losing you again.

“Mm, see, he shares the sentiment, Kitten. We have to get you to bed or I’m gonna fuck you on the counter.”

You weren’t against it but it seemed both of the men were. You quickly found yourself moving through rooms and on a large bed, then stripped of your clothing. Jeonghan was the one between your thighs now; his clothes were also discarded with yours somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom. He let his eyes move over your body in wonder as his hands followed the same path as if he were trying to imprint it on his brain.

“So perfect… and ours?”

In truth, your relationship status hadn’t been discussed before any of this started and also Jeonghan hadn’t cared. Now, with you lying on his bed, looking like every dream he had ever had of you, as Wonwoo slid in beside you to press his lips to the top of your breasts, he was starting to wonder if you really would be there at the end of the day.

“Yours.”

A single word left Jeonghan breathless. He hadn’t seen any rings on any important fingers but he hadn’t been in your life in a long time. He didn’t know what your life was without him but now, as far as he was concerned, there wouldn’t be a time without you.

"Fuck, I need you. Can I?”

You lift your hips as Jeonghan’s hands slide along your inner thighs and along your legs to your hips. You knew what he was asking and there was nothing you wanted more. Nodding, you whine into a moan as Wonwoo sucks at your skin, your fingers once again threading into his hair and tugging at his scalp.

Lining himself up with you, Jeonghan shakes his head, realizing what was really happening and how lucky he was as he slowly pushes his tip in. With his eyes on your face, Jeonghan watches your lips fall open at the stretch, his fingers digging into your skin as he angles his hips, feeling your soft, warm walls enclose around his cock.

“Feel good, Kitten?”

Wonwoo smiles against your skin as he speaks between kisses, working them up your breasts towards your neck. Wonwoo nods along with you, feeling Jeonghan’s hips meet yours as he bottoms out. The stretch is delicious and your brain is a mixture of spinning and empty. While your brain wants to freak out over what's happening, the only thing you can do is just feel and enjoy the drag of Jeonghan’s cock as he starts to thrust into you at an even pace.

His head falling forward as he pulls your hips up more, bracing your weight with his hands, Jeonghan quickens his pace, feeling your pussy throbbing around his length. You already felt better than he had ever imagined and he had dreamed about it many times before. He had tried to substitute the dream girl in his head before and none of them were living up to this now. There was only you and he could already feel himself tightening up from his stomach to his thighs.

“God, baby… cum on my cock. Give me that. At least once.”

Jeonghan had said you were theirs but just in case this was a one time thing, he needed to feel you cum around him at least once in his life. Sliding his right hand between your legs, he uses his thumb to massage your clit in tight circles while watching you throw your head back and your fingers scratch at the bedding. Jeonghan just groans your name as he feels your walls tighten around him and then the warm, slick feeling of your cum makes each of his thrusts all that more delicious.

A moment later, you feel your ass lowered back to the bed and Jeonghan pulls from you before his warm cum paints your thighs. The sound of his soft grunts and groans dances off the walls like music as your eyes move over his body to his hand. You watch as his fists over his cock hard and fast for a moment longer before he lets out a long, soft breath. Smiling, Jeonghan feels your leg running along the side of his when he opens his eyes to find you and Wonwoo looking at him.

“I made a mess. I can start the shower…”

You can only laugh as Jeonghan rolls from the bed, leaving you in Wonwoo’s arms, his lips gently pressing to the side of your neck. Wonwoo’s brows furrow and a groan slips from between his lips as your fingers wrap around his heavy cock, lazily stroking him as the sounds of water drift in from the attached bathroom.

“I’m too wound up, Y/N… I won’t last long. Shit…”

Pressing your thumb against his slit, you take your hand away, leaving Wonwoo breathless as you sit up and take his hand, pulling him from the bed. A look of confusion in the man’s eyes, along with a slight pout on his lips from seemingly being denied, is replaced by a smile when you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you as Jeonghan lifts a brow to the scene in front of him.

With your hand back around Wonwoo’s shaft, you feel him gasp into your mouth as you pull away from him once again and smile at Jeonghan as he opens the shower door for you, letting you and Wonwoo in first before following.

“You are being mean to Wonwoo, Kitten... after he cleaned you up so nicely with his mouth?”

“I’ll make it better, promise.”

Jeonghan starts to speak but is rendered speechless when you move to your knees in the shower in front of Wonwoo, who silently curses, lifting his hand to run it through his hair. With the water running along his back, Wonwoo leans his head back into the stream of water with a long, deep groan when you wrap your lips around his head and take him into your warm mouth.

He had wanted to fuck you but this would work too. Unlike Jeonghan, he was almost certain this wasn’t a one time thing. He was going to make sure of it, especially now as your pretty hand stroked his cock under your mouth as you moaned around him. He had told you he was wound up and he hadn’t been lying.

“Shit… shit! Too good… babe. Gonna cum. Slow down.”

You had no intention of slowing down. You wanted Wonwoo to cum. Just as much as he wanted to taste you, you wanted to taste him. So when he told you to slow down, instead you moved your hand and took him as deep in your mouth as you could, letting his tip nearly graze your throat. The action pushes Wonwoo over the edge, his hands gripping for whatever is closest, one being your hair and the other being Jeonghan’s arm, as he cums hard into your mouth.

Closing your eyes, you moan around Wonwoo as you pull back to just his tip, letting the last of his cum drip into your mouth before you sit back on your feet and swallow most of it, just a bit seeping from the corner of your lips. Jeonghan stares at Wonwoo for a moment longer before looking down at you and groaning, feeling blood start to work its way back to his cock when he seems cum dripping down to your chin.

Tugging his hand free from Wonwoo’s grasp, Jeonghan takes a deep breath, reaching down to swipe his thumb over your chin, collecting the cum, before pushing it back into your mouth and letting you suck it clean. Willing himself to not get hard becomes even harder as he curses under his breath and smiles at you in disbelief. You were even more perfect than he had dreamed.

“Both of us made a mess of you, Kitten. Only fair we clean you up, huh?”

Your cheeks warm as you come down from the high of everything that had happened. You look at both of the men as Wonwoo helps you back to your feet. His hand runs over your back, spreading body wash, as Jeonghan does the same to your front, paying extra attention to your thighs where his cum still lingered.

“This is crazy…”

Jeonghan’s brow shoots up at your soft words like a puppy hearing a new word. You were starting to panic. The shock was setting in. Shaking his head, the man steps closer, running his hands over your arms before leaning in to gently press a kiss on your lips.

“It’s not. It makes sense. We’ve always made sense. We were just too young and dumb to realize this. We just had to meet again in a different life to see it.”

Pouting on Jeonghan’s lips, you feel Wonwoo’s body close to yours; neither man is willing to let you run away from them, knowing you too well despite all the years of separation. You wanted to believe this could work. You wanted it to work. Sighing, you lean your head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder, letting Jeonghan look at you with a soft smile on his lips as you speak.

“I’m so getting fired.”

Laughing at your words, Jeonghan shrugs, running his hands along your wet arms as Wonwoo smiles, leaning to kiss your cheek and hugging you tighter to him. Lifting his hand, Jeonghan pinches your cheek like he had so many times in high school to tease you, feeling your warm cheek under his touch.

“I might be biased but I think we are worth it.”

#jeonghan smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #jeonghan x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #jeonghan x wonwoo

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aclmartsjaipur · 5 months ago

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trueebeauty · 7 months ago

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hello dear! can I request a fluff scenario with Lookism men (with Gun, Goo, Sam, Jake + whatever characters you like), when you prank him by pointing at your man's lap and ask if that seat was taken 😊 tyty!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes ; I had so much fun writing this one, I hope you enjoy it!!

GUN PARK

— It's a quiet evening, the kind of evening that Gun usually spends buried in work. His office is dimly lit as Gun sits there, his figure hunched over documents, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You pause at the doorway, watching him. To the world, he's a monster, a threat. But to you, he's just Gun, the man who softens only for you.

"Gun," you call softly, stepping into the room.

He looks up, the sharpness in his eyes immediately dulling. It's a transformation only you witness - the feared Gun becoming just a man, tired and in need of a break. "What is it?" His voice, usually a weapon, is gentle now.

You saunter towards his desk, a playful sway in your hips. Gun's eyes track your movement, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

You stop right in front of him, pointing at his lap with a mischievous grin. "Excuse me, sir, but is this seat taken?"

Gun blinks once, twice. You've caught him off-guard, a feat very few can claim. Then, a sound rumbles from his chest - a chuckle, low and rich.

It's not his usual cold laughter that sends chills down spines. This is warm, amused, meant only for you.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he says, but there's no threat in his voice. Instead, there's a fondness that makes your heart skip.

Gun pushes back from his desk, his expensive leather chair rolling smoothly. It's an invitation, one that speaks louder than words from a man who prefers action.

You don't hesitate. In a moment, you're settled on his lap, your legs dangling off one side of the chair.

His arms come around you, not with his usual strength, but with a gentle possessiveness. You're encased in a cage of muscle and warmth, more comforting than confining. Here, in Gun's embrace, you're the safest person in Seoul.

"Better than any chair," you quip, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He smells of expensive cologne and something uniquely him, a scent that spells home for you.

"Brat," Gun murmurs. The word is gruff, but you hear the smile in it. You glance up to see it - a rare, genuine smile softening his sharp features.

It's a sight reserved only for you, more precious than any treasure he owns.

Gun's hand comes up, calloused fingers tracing your cheek with a tenderness that belies their strength. These hands have brought empires to their knees, yet they touch you like you're made of glass.

"You should rest," you whisper, reaching up to smooth the furrow between his brows. "The world won't fall apart if you take a break."

He hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. But he makes no move to return to his work.

Instead, he pulls you closer, his chin resting atop your head. You feel the tension leaving his body, the rigidness melting away.

You smile, knowing you've won a victory sweeter than anything. You've stolen Gun's seat, yes - but more importantly, you've stolen a moment of his time, a piece of his heart.

With you, he's not a king or a ghost or a nightmare. He's just Gun, a man holding his world in his arms.

GOO KIM

— It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind Goo loves best. No jobs, no fights, just pure relaxation. You've just returned from a grocery run, bags dangling from your arms. The apartment you share with Goo is quiet, except for the faint rustle of pages.

You nudge the door open with your hip. "Goo! A little help here?"

He's sprawled on your plush couch, one leg dangling off the edge, the other propped on the armrest. His wild hair is messier than usual, and he's got a manga held above his face.

At your call, he flips a page, a smirk playing on his lips. "Busy," he drawls, not even glancing your way.

You huff, but there's no real annoyance. This is classic Goo - mercurial, a little shit, but undeniably yours.

You set the bags down and take a moment to admire him. Even in repose, there's a coiled energy about him, like a cat pretending to nap but ready to pounce at any moment.

A mischievous idea strikes. You saunter over, putting a little extra sway in your hips. Goo's eyes flick to you over the top of his manga, a spark of interest breaking through his facade of indifference.

You stop right by the couch, pointed chin, playful eyes. "Baby," you say, your voice a blend of innocence and cheek. "Is this seat occupied?"

Goo blinks, momentarily caught off guard. Then, a slow grin spreads across his face, the kind that usually precedes chaos.

But this chaos is all for you. "Oh?" he drawls, tossing the manga aside carelessly. "Getting bold, are we?"

You shrug, the picture of innocence. "Just looking for a comfy spot."

Goo laughs, a sound that's half amusement, half challenge. He pats his lap, a clear invitation. "Well, don't let me stop you, darling."

You don't hesitate. In a moment, you're plopped onto his lap, legs stretched out along the couch. Goo grunts at the sudden weight, but his arms are already around you, one hand splayed on your back, the other dangerously close to your ticklish spots.

"Comfy?" he asks, but there's a glint in his eye that spells trouble.

"Very," you start to say, but the word morphs into a squeal as Goo's fingers dance along your sides. "Goo!"

"That's what you get for being cheeky," he teases, but he's grinning ear to ear, a sight that transforms his whole face. Gone is the cold, calculating fighter. In his place is your Goo, all playful energy and unrestrained joy.

You squirm in his grasp, laughter bubbling out of you. It's a game now, one you both love. His tickles are merciless, but you manage to retaliate, finding that one spot behind his ear that always makes him twitch.

"Yah!" he yelps, more surprised than displeased. His grip on you tightens, not to hurt but to pull you against him.

The tickle war morphs into a tight embrace, your giggles fading into contented sighs.

Goo's chin rests atop your head, his breaths ruffling your hair. "You're lucky I like you," he murmurs, but there's no bite to it. If anything, he sounds almost awed, as if he can't quite believe you're here, that you chose him.

"More than you like manga?" you tease, glancing at the discarded book.

He snorts. "Don't push it." But his hand comes up to stroke your hair, gentle in a way few would believe the infamous Goo could be capable of. "But yeah, maybe a bit more."

You hum happily, nuzzling into his chest. Under your ear, his heart beats steady and strong, and in the arms of one of Seoul's most feared men, you feel nothing but safe.

The groceries lay forgotten by the door. The manga stays on the floor. The world outside, with all its violence and schemes, seems distant.

Right now, it's just you and Goo, tangled together on the couch, his unpredictable energy gentled by your presence.

As you start to doze off, lulled by Goo's warmth and the faint scent of his shampoo (the one you bought him, because "if you're gonna fight, at least smell nice"), you feel him press a kiss to your forehead. It's feather-light, almost hesitant, as if he's still learning how to be soft.

But that's okay. You've got all the time in the world to teach him, one lazy Sunday at a time. After all, you've already claimed the best seat in the house - right here, in Goo's lap, in Goo's heart.

SAMUEL SEO

— It's a hot summer day in Seoul. The air is thick with humidity, making even the short walk to the gym feel like trudging through the desert.

But Samuel Seo doesn't do half-measures, not in fights and certainly not in training. So, here he is, wrapping up an intense workout while others have long since retreated to air-conditioned cafes.

You push open the gym door, a blast of sweat-tinged air hitting you. The place is nearly empty, save for a few diehards and, of course, Samuel.

He's at the bench press, muscles straining, a look of fierce concentration on his face. You pause, taking a moment to admire the way his black tank clings to his skin, how his veins stand out with each rep.

He finishes his set and sits up, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. That's when he spots you. "Oi," he calls out, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Come to see a real workout?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that spreads across your face. This is Samuel's way of saying he's glad to see you. "Real workouts involve water breaks, Sammy," you retort, holding up the bottle and towel you brought.

He grunts, but there's a flicker of appreciation in his eyes as he meets you halfway. "Thanks," he mumbles, downing half the bottle in one go.

Water trickles down his chin, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. You resist the urge to chase it with your lips.

Instead, you hold out the towel. "Here. You look like you took a swim in your clothes."

Samuel snorts but takes it, roughly toweling his hair. "It's called dedication. Not that you'd know, with your yoga and pilates crap."

"It's called flexibility," you counter with a wink. "Very useful in certain situations."

A faint blush creeps up his neck, visible even through his workout flush. He clears his throat, adorably flustered. "Yeah, well... whatever."

You grin, loving how this tough-as-nails fighter turns into a stammering mess with just a bit of flirting. But you're not done teasing him yet. As he starts to move back towards the weights, you clear your throat.

"Hey, Sammy?" you call, your tone playful. He turns, one eyebrow raised in question. You gesture towards his lap with an impish smile. "Is anyone sitting here?"

Samuel blinks, his blush deepening. "You're such a—" he starts, but you don't let him finish. In a moment, you've perched yourself on his knees, legs dangling on either side of the bench.

"Language, Samuel," you tease, poking his chest. "This is a public space, anyone can hear you."

He grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "impossible shit," but his hands find your waist, steadying you. "You do realize I'm sweaty and gross, right?" he mutters, but he's not pushing you away. If anything, he's pulled you a bit closer.

"Mmm, eau de hard work," you joke, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. "My favorite."

"Ridiculous," Samuel breathes, but there's a tremor in his voice, a softness that belies his gruff tone. "You're going to get all sweaty too."

"Then we'll match," you say simply, pulling back to look at him.

His face is a study in contrasts - sharp angles and soft eyes, a scowl fighting a smile. It's a face you've come to adore, every scar and frown line a part of the man you love.

Samuel looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, with a gentleness that would shock his enemies, he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're impossible," he murmurs, but it sounds more like a declaration than a complaint.

You lean into his touch, your heart swelling. "You love it," you whisper, and before he can deny it, you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He lets out a shaky breath, his facade crumbling. In this quiet corner of the gym, with the faint hum of a lone fan and the distant clang of weights, Samuel allows himself a moment of vulnerability.

He rests his forehead against yours, his hands sliding from your waist to wrap around you in a full embrace.

"Yeah," he admits, so quietly you almost miss it. "Yeah, I do."

JAKE KIM

— It's a typical Wednesday at the Big Deal hangout and Jake Kim sits at the center of it all, face full of determination. He's hunched over blueprints spread across a makeshift table, Jerry and a few other trusted members surrounding him.

You slip in quietly, a tray balanced in your hands. The aroma of fresh food and drinks cuts through the usual scents of sweat and tears.

A few of the guys nod at you, respect and a hint of fondness in their eyes. You're not just their boss's partner; you're the one who brings warmth to this rough-edged place.

Jake doesn't look up as you approach. His brow is furrowed, eyes intense as he traces a route on the map.

It's a look you know well - the weight of responsibility, the constant battle to keep his people safe. You set the tray down gently, the clink of plates, bowls, and cups finally drawing his attention.

"Thanks," he mumbles, distracted. One hand reaches out, finding a cup by memory alone. He takes a sip, and you see a fraction of tension leave his shoulders. It's small, but it's enough to make your heart swell. Even in the midst of planning, he acknowledges your care.

The others grab their cups too, while some run to the food first, murmurs of thanks rippling through the group. You smile, pleased, but your eyes are on Jake.

He's back to the blueprints, the brief moment of respite already fading. You know he'll push himself too hard; he always does.

A mischievous idea forms. It's risky, maybe a bit too playful for the serious mood, but you can't help it. Jake needs a break, even if he won't admit it. So, you clear your throat softly.

"Um, excuse me," you say, your voice a blend of shyness and cheek. Jake looks up, a question in his tired eyes. You gesture to his lap, fighting back a grin. "Is this seat available?"

The warehouse goes quiet. Jerry's eyebrows shoot up. Someone in the back chokes on their drink.

But you only have eyes for Jake, watching as surprise melts into understanding, and then - oh, there it is - a warm, genuine smile that transforms his entire face.

"For you?" he says, his voice soft but carrying in the stillness. "Always."

Without hesitation, you settle onto his lap. Jake's arm comes around you automatically, a gesture so natural it's like breathing. You fit against him perfectly, your back to his chest, his chin finding its place on your shoulder.

Around you, the Big Deal members exchange glances. Some smirk, others politely avert their eyes. But there's no judgment, no scorn.

They've seen how you soothe their leader's burdens, how you bring light to his darkest days. If anyone's earned the right to this intimacy, it's you.

"Comfy?" Jake murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. There's a hint of playfulness in his voice, a side of him his enemies never see.

"Mmm," you hum contentedly, snuggling closer. "The best seat in the house."

Jake chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and into your back. His free hand finds yours, calloused fingers intertwining with yours atop the blueprints.

"Boss," Jason speaks up, his usually stoic face softened by a faint smile. "Maybe we could take a break? Looks like you've got your hands full."

There's a round of chuckles, more felt than heard. Jake looks around at his crew, sees the fatigue hidden beneath their tough exteriors.

Then he looks down at you, nestled in his arms like you belong there. Which, he thinks, you absolutely do.

"Yeah," he agrees, surprising everyone. Jake Kim doesn't take breaks; he powers through. But today, with you in his lap and his crew looking at him with loyalty mixed with concern, he allows himself this weakness. "Let's call it for now. Good work, everyone."

The warehouse comes alive with movement. Guys stretch, joke, make plans for dinner. But no one comments on how you stay right where you are, or how Jake's arms tighten around you.

"You planned this, didn't you?" he murmurs once the others have drifted away. There's no accusation in his voice, only a fond exasperation.

You turn in his lap to face him, one hand coming up to trace the sharp line of his jaw. "You needed a break," you say simply. "And I needed a seat."

Jake laughs, a real laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes. It's a rare, precious sound. "I'm starting to think you like me more for my lap than my charming personality," he teases.

"Mm, it's a tough call," you play along, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "The lap is very comfy. But the man it's attached to? He's pretty great too."

Jake's eyes soften, the hard edges of the gang leader melting away. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours. In the quiet of the now-empty warehouse, he allows himself to be vulnerable.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispers. It's an admission he'd never make in front of his crew, a crack in the armor he wears for their sake.

You cup his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "You're you," you say firmly. "That's more than enough."

He kisses you then, slow and deep, pouring into it all the words he can't say. When you part, his eyes are bright, not with the sharpness of the intensity but with something softer, something that belongs only to you.

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x male reader #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #gun park x reader #gun park #goo kim x reader #jake kim #jake kim x reader #samuel seo #samuel seo x reader

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zepskies · 3 months ago

Text

Lost on You - Part 8

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Here we go. Diving into Nicaragua, and beyond…

Song Inspo: “Who’s Crying Now” by Journey

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Violence, implied torture, heavy angst (and a twist ending).

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Part 8: For Whom the Bell Tolls

March 1984

When you got into Payback, you didn’t sign up to be part of a war. You knew you weren’t a soldier, and frankly, the rest of you had no business being here either. This was a CIA base, being run by a no-nonsense officer, Grace Mallory. You had no intention of getting in her way.

Nicaragua was hot and surrounded by jungle, not exactly conducive to a leather suit. You kept to the shade by yourself and watched Swatto, Ben, and Gunpowder makes fools of themselves after Grace tore them a new one. You respected anyone who could go toe-to-toe with Ben without even flinching, especially as a non-supe.

Then again, he had poured on his usual “charm.”

“You know, with a figure like yours, you are wasted down here,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. Grace didn't even give him the time of day. Stan chimed in, presumably to explain Vought’s apparent “partnership” with the U.S. military for this mission. Ben walked away from her, barely glancing in your direction along the way.

That suited you just fine. Things had been frosty between you two for the past month, but as long as you stayed out of his way, he didn’t butt into yours.

Days later, you wanted nothing more than to go home. Sleeping in a tent was not your bag, and especially not using the restroom outdoors. Would it be considered desertion if you booked a flight home right now?

You escaped your tent with a huff, swatting mosquitos as you went. You’d tried to take an afternoon nap, but who could sleep in this heat?

“Not exactly a luxury suite, is it?” Black Noir said. You jolted, realizing he was standing just a few feet away without his mask on. It was refreshing to see his face, but you were still a bit sour toward him.

“Oh, you’re talking to me now?” you said dryly. You began walking toward the mess tent. Noir joined you.

“Well, it looks like you’re done playing your little game,” he said, raising his brows meaningfully at Soldier Boy. He seemed to be trying to chat up Mallory again.

Good fucking luck there, you thought. She already looked bored.

You turned to Noir with a flat look.

“We’re all playing a game, Irving. Just at different levels,” you said. “For example, what were you talking to Stan about?”

You’d seen them a couple of hours ago, hidden behind a fortified stone wall. Noir stopped walking. You were curious enough to follow suit.

“Something that could change everything for all of us,” he said. “You included.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’re you—”

Shots rang out in the clearing. Noir covered you when a grenade blasted the ground just a few feet away from you.

"You okay?" he asked in concern. You nodded shakily. He steadied you with a reassuring hold on your arms.

“Come on!” he said.

“What’s happening?” you exclaimed over the noise. You were terrified, and you definitely weren’t trained for this.

You let Noir lead you through the camp. When men in faded green uniforms came at you with guns, he took most of them out. You managed to duck under a man’s gun and touch his face, compelling him to sleep.

“There you are!” said Countess. She had the TNT Twins and Mindstorm in tow. For once, you were relieved to see them.

Finally you made it into a clearing where Ben was fighting with his shield at the ready. He punched out another enemy soldier who fell to the ground. He turned to see you, and then the others in your team beginning to surround him. You frowned in confusion and looked at Noir.

“What’re you doing?” you asked in worry. He glanced at you, but didn’t answer.

“What the fuck is this?!” Ben said angrily.

“Something we should’ve done a long time ago, you piece of shit,” Noir said, his tone icy and determined.

The TNT Twins attacked first. It managed to knock Ben to the ground. You were frozen in shock when Countess and Mindstorm joined in, along with Noir.

“Stop!” you said, but no one heard you. What the fuck is happening?!

They had Ben going for a minute, as their triple teaming managed to keep him on the ground…just not for long. With a grunt, he shoved them all away with a show of strength.

“Sirena!” Noir finally called to you, his gaze imploring you to help them.

“No, stop!” you shouted back. You couldn’t watch this fight happen again. Because this time, Ben would kill him. He’d kill all of them.

You headed for Ben and Noir, but a gloved hand stopped you. It grabbed your wrist and turned you around, right into Countess’s waiting fist. You cried out and stumbled, but you found purchase on one of the stone walls. Before you could recover, she grabbed your shoulders and kneed you hard in the stomach.

Shit… You tasted blood when you went down, heaving for breath. She packed one hell of a punch in those little gloved fists.

“Been waiting for this, bitch,” she hissed from above you.

The second she got close enough, you grabbed her by her long hair and punched her as hard as you could in that fake-ass nose. Then you kicked out with both feet into her stomach. She doubled over and fell back on her ass.

You managed to roll and stumble onto your feet. You glanced over quick and saw that Ben was beating Noir within an inch of his life.

“Ben!” you shouted, wanting to stop him, but that was when Mindstorm stepped in front of you. His eyes met yours, and it became a battle of wills as he tried to shove you deep into the darkness of your inner world.

You could play mind games too though. You fought his hold, with every scrap of your consciousness, and you even managed to take a few steps forward. If you touched him, it would be over. As a man, he wouldn’t be able to withstand your own powers.

And your plan might’ve worked, if Countess hadn’t walloped you hard from behind.

When you woke, the bare room was bright with florescent lighting and cold beyond belief. You shuddered. You were no longer wearing your supe suit. Instead, you’d been dressed in some kind of gray hospital gown and a pair of woolly socks, stripped of even your boots. At least you still had underwear.

You uncurled yourself from the thin cot you were laying on. The room held little more than a prison cot, a toilet, and a sink. You let out a shaky breath.

Where the hell…

You got up slowly, mindful of your aches and pains throughout your body. The back of your head was throbbing too, courtesy of Countess, you slowly remembered.

That fucking bitch.

There was a door with a small glass windowpane. You tried to twist the handle, but of course it wouldn’t budge. You peered out of the window and saw a long hallway. There was a door just like yours on the opposite side with a small window.

“H-Hey!” you shouted. “Is anyone there? Hello?!”

A moment later, you heard Ben say your name, calling out to you. He sounded angry, but you were close enough to sense his relief at hearing your voice. You were relieved to hear him too, at least.

“Ben!” you said, as tears sparked in your eyes. “Where the hell are we?”

“The Russians got us,” he said, though it was heavily muffled through his door and yours.

Oh shit…

“After those cocksuckers fucking betrayed me!” he shouted. You heard a banging sound, like his fist meeting the wall.

“Did you know?” he asked in anger.

“What?” you said incredulously.

“Did you fucking know what they were planning?”

You were shocked, both at his audacity, and at the way he really thought you could do that to him. To anyone.

“How can you ask me that,” you said tremulously, “when I’m the only one who tried to fucking help you?”

It finally hit you then, where you were and why this was happening. You laughed without humor, wiping manic tears from your cheeks in vain.

“Well, look where that got me,” you said. You shook your head. “God, I wish I’d never met you.”

You almost wished you could see his face. He would probably try to be stoic, but even through the walls, you sensed the discordant impact of your words. It affected him, more than he’d probably ever show.

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said sharply.

“Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat.

That fell heavily between you. You didn’t regret it. It was high time this man knew the truth, about everything.

No more games.

“Oh, really. You included, huh?” Ben said. “I didn’t do shit to you.”

You gaped. “You shoved me to ground! I had bruises for days. Or did you conveniently forget that part?”

“You got in the fucking way!” he retorted. But then, he simmered down slightly. “Besides, you know you weren’t the one I was aiming for.”

And that just reminded you of Black Noir, with no small measure of guilt, and just how badly Ben had beaten him before you two were captured. You didn’t doubt that Ben had killed him.

“But you still did it, and you couldn’t even look me in the eye and apologize, like a man,” you said. “Instead, you fucked a pack of whores.”

You shook your head and tried to calm your breathing. You wiped under your eyes.

“But I guess I did bring it on myself. I knew what you were the second I met you,” you said coldly. “In fact, the only thing I really wanted from you was what you could do for my career.”

That blow landed as well. You felt his shock, deep inside.

“Is that so?” he said, less angry then. More resigned. “It was all an act, huh?”

New tears burned in your eyes. They slid down your cheeks, one by one.

“Yeah, it was,” you said. “I fucking hope I never have to see your face again.”

With a shaky breath, you turned your back to the door and leaned against it. You ignored the painful lance in your heart that threatened to overtake you, along with your panic.

For a while, there was silence. It gave you a reprieve, but it also forced you to be alone with the tumultuous thoughts circling in your head.

Suddenly, the door opened. You backed up all the way to the far wall. In stepped a man in a gray lab coat, as well as two armed guards. One of them was holding a straitjacket.

“Good morning,” said the lab coat. His English was heavily accented. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Who are you?” You tried to sound firm and unshaken, but there was no mistaking your fear as your eyes darted from man to man.

“Eisenstein Sergei. I am a geneticist, by trade,” he said. He gestured at you with a smile that made your skin crawl. “You, beautiful one. You will be part of evolution.”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” you said, even as your voice trembled.

Eisenstein gestured at the guards, who drew near you. The second you opened your mouth to sing, to scramble their minds, one of them produced an extendable stick with an electric prod on the end. He tased you until you passed out onto the floor.

As you soon discovered, Dr. Sergei Eisenstein was fascinated by supes. He wanted to figure out how they ticked, on a molecular level. So he and his team had made a deal with Vought to acquire Soldier Boy for experimentation. You were an added bonus.

For months, the doctor and his team poked and prodded, cut and burned you, testing the limitations of your advanced healing and pushing your body often far beyond its capabilities.

But they were careful. The straitjacket ensured you couldn’t easily compel any man who drew near to work on you. They all wore gloves, so they didn’t touch your skin. In some ways, their wariness was to your benefit. You were always gagged when they worked on you though, so you couldn’t sing. Eisenstein also once threatened to paralyze your vocal cords if you tried. You were too afraid to tempt him.

As rough as you had it, you were sure it was only scratching the surface of what they did to Ben.

The man was stronger, more durable. The doctor had more leeway to play with him, knowing his toy wouldn’t break.

They now kept him on the other end of the compound, since he’d broken through his first containment unit. They had gassed him with something that made him drop like a stone, putting him to sleep. You weren’t sure what was powerful enough to do it, but you didn’t want to find out.

The first time you heard him screaming, it brought tears stinging in your eyes. Your lips had trembled, and you’d rocked yourself in your cot. You couldn’t help him, let alone yourself. You were surprised to realize that you wanted to help him, even after everything he did to you—after everything you’d seen him do.

It slowly made you realize the truth in your own heart; things you hadn’t wanted to take out and examine, like muddy glass after a storm. Now, with the debris washed away, you could see what you had become, and what all your work, your scraping, your lies and manipulations had gotten you.

Nothing.

It also made you realize that you weren’t as good of a liar as you thought you were. At least, not to yourself. Not when you remembered the quiet moments between you and Ben; the times you wordlessly craved each other’s company, and you laid tucked against his side on the couch with a book while he watched a football game. Or late at night, the times when you gave into sharing a bed with him, and he stared up at the ceiling with a blunt in hand, the two of you lying naked and talking about everything and nothing until you feel asleep.

Yes, you remembered blood and violence, callousness and cruelty toward Noir and the rest of the team. You knew that was who Soldier Boy was. That was Ben.

It was just hard to reconcile that monster with the man you’d come to know. The man who actually tried to comfort you, even though you hadn’t wanted to be comforted after that accident with a Crimson Countess fan. The man who saved you after you were beaten by a thug, and nearly worse. The man who could be funny, and charming, with hints of gentleness and affection in between.

You supposed you would never know what part of him was real.

But most of all, you remembered the things you’d said to him. You surprised yourself by feeling pinprick needles of guilt up and down your spine.

“I hope I never have to see your face again.”

You had a feeling that you’d get your wish.

It was six months in before Eisenstein experimented with the first serum. You vomited blood.

It took his team three more years to revise.

You started to hear voices in your head, snippets of thought instead of just sensing energies. You lied to the scientists, keeping the knowledge to yourself. They had no way to know, so why give them more ammunition against you?

The thoughts you heard were always male, whoever was in close proximity. Your powers seemed to translate them into English, but you almost preferred it to be gibberish. Mostly the thoughts were bland, disgusting, or cold and frightening in their scientific detachment, and even their entertainment…mostly when they worked on Ben.

It made you sick. You wished you could reach out to him, if just for someone familiar to talk to. You hadn’t learned how to do that just yet. You didn’t even know if you could. You were still figuring out how to just tune it all out when you were sick of the chatter.

Regardless, they kept him too far away, so you rarely heard his thoughts. When you did, they were mostly angry and murderous. You couldn’t blame him.

Sometimes, just being able to feel his presence, hearing the scraps of his thoughts was enough.

You were left entirely alone with your own.

April 3, 1994

You read the date on the magazine they’d brought for you with bland porridge for breakfast. The publication was in Russian, but you’d begun to pick up on certain words they said, and on the structure of numbers you saw them scribble in their notes.

Ten years. You really couldn’t fathom it. It didn’t feel real…

Well, actually, it did today. You were almost done with the porridge when the doctor and three guards came in, one with your usual straitjacket.

“Finished then?” Eisenstein asked, nodding at your near empty bowl. “Good. Get her up.”

The command was in Russian, but by now you understood it. You still struggled. You always did. It was no use though. Soon they had you fitted in the jacket and a gag tight around your mouth, with just a couple of cattle prod stings to your side.

They dragged you down the hall farther than usual. You were confused when they passed the usual lab they so often took you to. Instead, Eisenstein opened a metal door.

Inside the room was Ben, strapped to a metal slab against the wall. He was bound in every way, and fully naked. He also had a long, unkempt beard, but you’d recognize that face even in your sleep. Your eyes widened when you met his, your breath caught in your throat. His face slackened in surprise as well.

You hadn’t seen him since before the beginning of the nightmare.

He’d barely aged at all.

The spell of it broke when you were slammed down onto a cold, shiny table. It felt hard as titanium, and you cried out at the impact.

You managed to raise your head. “Ben!”

It was muffled through the gag, but you knew he understood you. His brows furrowed. He looked up at Eisenstein in a glare.

“What the fuck is this?”

The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

“You have impenetrable skin, yes? Hard, like a diamond,” he said to Ben. “Even inside your holes, it is…perhaps more sensitive, but still strong enough to stop further experimentation.”

Ben’s lip curled with a sneer.

“But there must be a way to get inside you,” Eisenstein said. He grabbed the back of your neck tightly, making you whimper. He held up the syringe. “Tell me now, or I will give her the serum we had prepared for you. There is good chance it may…let’s say, liquify her insides, but we will have to see. Won’t we?”

He gestured at one of the guards, who tore open the back of your gray gown to expose your back and shoulders. You screamed around the gag and struggled, even with the men holding you down. You fought Eisenstein’s grip to look up at Ben. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard and angry.

You had tears in your eyes; they already began to slip down your cheeks. You implored him wordlessly. Ben stared back at you through furrowed brows.

Getting nothing but silence, Eisenstein sighed through his nose, and he turned to you with the syringe.

“Hold her steady.”

You struggled and thrashed in vain.

“Wait!” Ben said, through clenched teeth.

Everyone in the room paused.

Ben lifted his gaze from you and directed it at the doctor.

“My eye,” he said lowly. “Inject it in the corner of my eye.”

Eisenstein’s weathered face broke into a smile. “Ah, clever. Thank you, Soldier Boy.”

Then he pressed the needle into your shoulder, emptying its contents into your bloodstream. You uttered a pained sound at the needle going in. Again, you looked up at Ben in panic.

He tensed in an incredulous anger. “What—”

“Do not worry. It’s just a sedative,” Eisenstein shrugged.

Within seconds, you breathed out a whimper as your eyes closed on you. You went limp. The guards peeled you off the table and dragged you out of the room. It left the doctor with his favorite patient.

Ben wanted to rip the man’s arm from his socket and beat him to death with it. And that was just the latest fantasy on how he’d take the good doctor apart.

“What’ve you been doing to her?” Ben asked, in a tone that demanded. It was the first time he had spoken of you, the first time he had the courage to ask the question that so often plagued his mind.

Eisenstein sighed. “She is not as strong or durable as you, but! She has been able to withstand a good many experiments that have borne fruit.”

Ben’s glare darkened. “You’re a sick fucking bastard.”

“I am a visionary,” the doctor countered. “Can you imagine what your mutations could unlock for science? In biomedicine? Her healing abilities, though limited, could provide the cure to any number of diseases and ailments. Your longevity of life could do the same… Or if not, you will make for Russia’s greatest weapon.”

He stepped back and ushered in his assistants. One of them came with the true serum. Its contents had a light red hue. It looked like poison. Ben struggled in his constraints, grunting and resisting the hand that reached for his face.

“If you do not stay still, we will go to her next,” Eisenstein warned.

Ben panted through his nose. His hardened gaze flicked between the doctor, and the needle coming for his eye.

You heard Ben screaming before you could even open your eyes. You felt it in your chest. In your spirit.

He saved me, you realized, as tears once again stung behind your eyelids.

You also tasted cotton in your mouth. You realized it was because they had thrown you face-first onto your cot. You managed to turn your head so you at least could breathe, but you couldn’t move any of your limbs. Your enhanced healing was the only reason why you were even awake.

Ben…

He broke free.

The pain was too much. Adrenaline was surging through him, and he was able to grab one of the assistants and crush his throat. His furious gaze was set on Eisenstein next, but the fucker ducked out of the room quick.

Ben padded forward on slightly unsteady feet, ripping away the rest of his restraints from the cold metal. He stalked toward the door. Before he could reach it, a hissing plume of Novichok gas flooded the entire cell.

His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell to the ground. All the while, the serum was working inside him, bubbling and brewing red hot in his chest.

You were lying unmoving in your cot when Eisenstein came in to check on you.

“How is the little bird, doing?” he asked in his native tongue.

He ventured over to you carefully. In one of his hands was a cattle prod, just in case.

“They were careless,” he remarked. He set down the cattle prod to grasp your shoulders, and he rearranged you until you were lying on your back. You were still unresponsive, when the doctor knew for a fact that you should be awake by now. He had your reaction times to certain chemicals perfected to the minute.

He frowned and reached out to hold a gloved finger to your neck, measuring your pulse.

That was when you opened your eyes.

You raised up and headbutted him as hard as you could. Eisenstein cried out and fell to the ground. You followed him there and straddled him. Your hands were still bound by the straitjacket, so you had no choice.

You bent down and distracted him with a disdainful kiss to his lips.

When you next open your eyes, they were glowing violet.

You took control of his mind.

AN: 😬😬😬

Also, get ready for a whopper of a chapter in Part 9. (My favorite one of the series!)

Next Time:

Free me, you compelled Eisenstein’s mind.

He obeyed you with a vacant look in his eyes. He unhooked your straitjacket and opened the door. After you grabbed up his cattle prod, you still didn’t release your psychic hold. You ordered him forward, and for the first time you walked freely out of your cell without restraint.

Take me to Soldier Boy.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 9

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lxvsiick · 3 months ago

Text

ONE DAY WITH HER | PARK JONGSEONG

PAIRING: rich boy! park jongseong x rich girl! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Y/n thought she had everything, a happy family, money, fame. But after what had happened with between her parents, she didn't know if she could trust a men anymore -- Jay plans to change that though.

GENRE: fwb! Implied, best friends, imagine

WARNINGS: Mentions of drinking, smoking, physical attack, a little suggestive-ish

WORDCOUNT: 2.8k

A/N: Inspired by HER by CHASE ATLANTIC ,, i 🫶🏼 chase atlantic

✨⋆｡°✩

The soft chime of the Chanel store door welcomed them in as Y/n immediately took the lead, her eyes lighting up at the rows of designer clothes and luxury handbags. She grabbed Jay's hand, pulling him along with her as she darted from one display to the next.

“Look at this one!” she exclaimed, holding up a sleek leather handbag. Without a second thought, she passed it to Jay, who caught it effortlessly, adding it to the growing pile of items already in his hands.

He followed her in silence, amusement flickering in his eyes as he watched her flit around like a kid in a candy store. “You’re seriously buying another bag?” he teased. “Didn’t you just get two last week?”

Y/n waved him off with a grin, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and trying them on in front of the mirror. “Last week’s are old news. Plus, these are limited edition,” she said, inspecting the frames before turning back to him with a playful look. “And what else am I supposed to do? Not shop?”

Jay shook his head, smiling as he held up a pastel pink blazer she had eyed earlier. “This one suits you. Matches your over-the-top shopping habits.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking as she looked at it. “Okay, you might be onto something,” she agreed, taking the blazer and tossing it onto his growing pile of designer goods. As they moved through the store, the two exchanged playful banter, making light of their opulent lifestyle.

“So, remember the first time we met?” Y/n asked suddenly, running her fingers along a row of silky dresses.

Jay glanced at her, pretending to think hard. “At my dad’s company? Yeah, you were like, what, six?”

“Six and already better dressed than you,” she quipped, shooting him a teasing grin.

“I was a kid!” he protested, laughing. “But I distinctly remember you eyeing my shoes and asking me if I actually knew what designer they were.”

“I was right to question you! Those were last season’s,” she joked, her eyes twinkling as she picked up a sleek black dress and held it up to her body. “What do you think? Too much?”

Jay gave her a once-over, raising his eyebrows approvingly. “Too much? Please, nothing’s ever ‘too much’ for you.”

She flashed him a bright smile before heading toward the register with the dress and her other selections. As the cashier began scanning the items, Y/n reached into her designer handbag and pulled out her sleek cardholder.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jay said, sliding his black card across the counter before she could react.

She stared at him, blinking in surprise. “Excuse me? I was going to pay.”

“And I just did,” he replied smoothly, slipping his hands into his pockets, watching as the cashier processed the payment.

Her eyes narrowed, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You can’t always pay for me, you know.”

“Oh, but I can. And I will,” he said with a smug smile, picking up the glossy shopping bags once they were handed over.

Y/n crossed her arms, playfully pouting. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I try,” he replied with a wink, handing her the bags as they left the store. “Besides, you still owe me for making me carry all of this.”

She rolled her eyes, though her smile never faded. “Fine, you win. But next time, it’s on me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jay said, draping his arm over her shoulders as they strolled down the luxurious shopping avenue, the weight of their high-society lives feeling surprisingly light in each other’s company.

��⋆｡°✩

At six years old, Y/n was already used to big offices, tall buildings, and the quiet murmur of business meetings. She tagged along with her parents to Jay's father’s company, her tiny hand wrapped in the gloved one of her family’s butler as they roamed the spacious halls. Her parents were tucked away in a long meeting with executives, leaving her with free reign to explore.

As they passed by a polished glass door, Y/n paused, her sharp eyes catching sight of another kid—someone her own age, which was rare in these stuffy places. The boy was sitting in the lounge, playing with building blocks while a maid patiently handed him pieces. His messy dark hair fell over his eyes, and he wore a pair of shoes that caught her attention—shoes she recognized immediately.

She let go of her butler’s hand, curiosity sparking, and marched straight into the lounge, her tiny shoes clicking on the marble floor. The boy looked up from his blocks, blinking at her in surprise as she stood in front of him, hands on her hips.

“What’s wrong with your outfit?” Y/n asked bluntly, her eyes narrowing as she scanned his little suit. Her gaze stopped at his shoes, and she tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Do you even know what designer those shoes are?”

Jay, caught off guard by the sudden question, looked down at his shoes—simple black loafers. “Uh… shoes?” he answered, completely clueless.

The maid tried to stifle a giggle, but Y/n didn’t seem amused. She let out a tiny sigh, shaking her head as if disappointed.

“Those are from last season,” she declared, pointing at his shoes with all the authority of a six-year-old who took her fashion cues from her stylish mother. “You can’t wear last season’s shoes! And that tie doesn’t even match,” she added, tugging at the crooked blue tie that clashed with his checkered shirt.

Jay blinked at her, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. “What’s wrong with my tie?”

“Everything,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s okay, though. I’ll help you. I promise,” she added, holding out her pinky finger in the most serious pinky promise of her short life. “I’ll make sure you don’t dress like this when we grow up.”

He stared at her outstretched finger for a moment, then, with a small grin, hooked his pinky around hers. “Okay, deal.”

They stood there, pinky fingers linked, until she pulled back with a satisfied smile. “I’m Y/n,” she said proudly, as though she were royalty.

“I’m Jay,” he replied, still looking a bit dazed by the whirlwind that had just entered his quiet playtime.

From that day on, their lives were bound together by that simple promise—one born from a mismatched outfit and an instant connection. That day, in the gleaming office lounge, they didn’t just become friends. They became best friends.

✨⋆｡°✩

The house was eerily quiet when Y/n and her mother walked through the front door that night, returning from what was supposed to be a routine evening out. But something was wrong. There were signs—her father’s jacket was tossed over the couch, the faint sound of voices coming from upstairs. Her mother’s face tightened in suspicion, her eyes narrowing.

Without a word, her mother headed toward the master bedroom, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. Y/n followed closely, a pit forming in her stomach.

As they reached the bedroom, her mother pushed open the door, revealing a sight that made Y/n’s heart drop. Her father, tangled in the sheets with her mother’s secretary.

Her mother’s gasp echoed through the room. "You bastard," she whispered, voice trembling with fury. Without hesitation, she turned to the secretary. "You're fired. Pack your things and get out."

The secretary scrambled out of bed, her face pale, grabbing her clothes in a rush. But Y/n’s father didn’t move. Instead, he stood, unapologetic and defiant, pulling on his shirt with an air of arrogance.

“I want a divorce,” her mother declared, voice cold and steely. “And I’ll make sure you don’t get a single penny.”

¡! TRIGGER WARNING ¡!

That’s when everything erupted. A furious argument broke out, voices rising in the air like thunder. Her father stepped closer, shouting insults, blaming her mother for everything. The room was filled with anger, accusations, and heartbreak.

And then, it got worse.

Her father lunged, hands raised, his rage spilling over. Before Y/n could fully process it, he hit her mother—hard. The sound of the slap reverberated in the air, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

Without thinking, Y/n jumped between them. “Stop it!” she screamed, her body trembling with fear and adrenaline.

But her father, blind with rage, shoved her aside. Her mother staggered backward, hitting her head against the corner of a dresser, collapsing to the floor. Y/n felt the sting of a hit across her face as she tried to shield her mother, and in the chaos, her father made a run for it, bolting out of the house.

Her hands were shaking as she dialed for help, her mind racing. “Please, come quickly,” she cried into the phone. “My mom—she’s hurt. Please hurry.”

The next few hours were a blur. Paramedics came, and her mother was rushed to the hospital. Y/n sat in the cold waiting room, the sterile smell of the hospital making her feel nauseous. Her grandparents arrived shortly after, their faces etched with worry. Her mother was in surgery, and the minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity.

Then, Jay arrived, with his parents not far behind. As soon as Y/n saw him, her resolve broke. She had been holding herself together, trying to be strong for her mother, but the moment he walked toward her, all the emotions she had been bottling up came crashing down.

Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as her body shook with silent sobs. His warmth, his familiar presence, was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“I can’t be here,” she whispered into his chest, her voice thick with emotion. “Take me away, please.”

He nodded, understanding without needing further explanation. Taking her hand, he led her outside to his car. They drove in silence, the city lights blurring as they headed toward their spot—the cliff overlooking the city, where they’d always go to escape the world.

They parked, the cool night air sweeping through the open windows. Jay climbed onto the hood of the car, patting the spot next to him. She joined him, her body still tense from the events of the night.

Reaching into his pocket, Jay pulled out a blunt and lit it, taking a long drag before offering it to her. She took it, inhaling deeply, feeling the smoke fill her lungs and numb the edges of her pain.

“I don’t want to feel anything right now,” she murmured, staring out at the city lights twinkling below them. Her voice was hollow, distant.

He didn’t say anything, just sat beside her, a silent support. The high from the weed began to settle over her like a blanket, dulling the sharpness of her emotions. But it didn’t take away the weight in her chest.

After a while, she turned to look at him. His face was close, his eyes reflecting the same pain, the same helplessness she felt. She leaned in slightly, her breath hitching as the space between them seemed to shrink. Their foreheads touched, and her pulse quickened as their lips hovered, inches apart.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with tension.

She hesitated for only a second before giving him a small, almost imperceptible nod. That was all the confirmation he needed.

He closed the gap between them, his lips meeting hers in a gentle, slow kiss. The kiss deepened, driven by the swirling emotions of the night—grief, anger, frustration, and a desperate need for comfort. It wasn’t just about physical closeness; it was about escaping everything, even if just for a moment.

The world faded around them, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other.

✨⋆｡°✩

The soft glow of the city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows as Y/n descended the spiral staircase of her giant penthouse. The cool, sleek marble beneath her feet contrasted with the warmth of the dimmed lights and the subtle scent of her mother’s favorite tea.

Her mother, seated elegantly on the plush couch in the living room, sipped from a porcelain cup while reading a novel. As Y/n passed her, heading for the door, her mother glanced up, sharp eyes following her daughter's every move.

“Tell Jay I said hello,” her mother called out casually, not lifting her gaze from the book again.

Without slowing her stride, Y/n tossed a quick "Okay, Mom" over her shoulder and continued out the door. She didn’t need to explain where she was going. They both knew.

The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped into the glossy lobby, offering a polite smile to the receptionist. “Good evening,” she greeted softly, moving toward the entrance where the doorman tipped his hat to her as she passed.

Stepping outside, the cool night air kissed her skin as she spotted Jay, waiting for her by his motorcycle, his usual laid-back grin already in place. His six friends lounged nearby, leaning on their motorcycles or expensive sports cars, the engines occasionally rumbling in the quiet night.

He handed her a helmet without a word, and she took it with a smirk, securing it over her head. “By the way,” she said as she mounted the bike behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, “my mom says hi.”

Jay let out a low chuckle. “She’s always been a fan,” he teased, glancing back at her before starting the bike. With a roar, the engine came to life, and soon they were speeding down the streets, his friends following closely behind, the city lights blurring into streaks around them.

They arrived at the party deep in the woods, the pounding bass of the music echoing through the trees. People were already scattered around—dancing, drinking, laughing as the night stretched on. The bonfire flickered, casting golden shadows across the crowd, and the air smelled of smoke and freedom.

Jay parked his motorcycle near the fire, and they both leaned against it, drinks in hand, watching their friends let loose under the night sky. The cool bottle felt good against her fingers, the steady thump of the music a constant rhythm in the background.

He wrapped a casual arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer, and she leaned into him without thinking. It was natural, the way they fit together like this, in moments like these where the line between friendship and something more blurred. But tonight, there was a different energy in the air.

“You ever think about us?” he asked, his voice quiet but clear over the music.

Y/n blinked, turning her head to look up at him. His face was serious now, the playful smirk from earlier gone. “About what?” she asked, even though she knew exactly what he meant.

“You know,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly against her waist. “What we are...and if we could be more.”

Her heart tightened in her chest, a flood of emotions swirling. They’d been in this friends-with-benefits arrangement for a while now, and she liked it—no, loved it. But there was a part of her that was scared. Scared of what could happen if they crossed that line. She had seen firsthand what love could do. She had seen how her parents' relationship had shattered, leaving nothing but bitterness and hurt behind.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked away, her gaze settling on the fire in the distance. “After everything that happened with my parents...I don’t want to end up like them.”

His grip on her waist tightened slightly, a sign of his frustration, but also his understanding. “I’m not your dad,” he said firmly, leaning closer to make sure she understood. “I would never be like him.”

She swallowed hard, her emotions in a tangle. She loved him—at least, she thought she did. More than just a best friend, and maybe more than just this casual thing they had. But the fear of losing him completely if it all went wrong held her back.

Seeing her hesitation, Jay offered a small smile, his usual confidence tinged with softness. “Give me one day,” he said, his tone light but serious. “One day to show you I’m different. That we could be different.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, the tension between them dissipating as he grinned at her response. “One day,” she agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

He finished his drink and stood, offering his hand to her. “Now, let’s dance.”

Rolling her eyes, she took his hand, letting him pull her into the crowd. The beat of the music thudded beneath their feet, and for now, just for tonight, she let herself forget the fear. Let herself be with him, in this moment, without worrying about tomorrow.

They danced together under the moonlight, their bodies moving in sync, the weight of unspoken feelings lingering in the air between them.

✨⋆｡°✩

MASTERLIST

#lxvsiick </3 #kpop #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay imagines #park jongseong #park jeongseong imagines #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha park jay #enhypen jay

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wraithlafitte · 11 months ago

Text

you're no femme fatale

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: use of y/n, dubcon (mission sequence), soft dom!reader, guided masturbation, light degradation (m!receiving), stripping, begging, scratching, hair pulling, handjob, exhibitionism if you squint

word count: 3.3k

a/n: anon request here! enjoy 🖤 honestly felt like i was scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep this interesting LOL hope it's what you wanted

"No. No way in hell I'm doing that," you said, throwing up your hands and backing away from the table, littered with piles of Sam's research.

"Aw, come on, Y/N," Sam protested. "You're the only one of us that could do it."

"I am not entertaining some dirty old man for this," you snapped, snatching up a museum scan of the artifact you were supposed to steal. "We'll find another way."

"If there was another way, I'd be asking you to do that," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "This is the path of least resistance. You get in his office, slip it into your dress while he's not looking, and we'll come get you after ten minutes. That's it."

You huffed a sigh and crossed your arms.

Just then, Dean returned from his fast food run, greasy paper bags in hand. "Hey, nerds," he greeted impishly. "Grub's on."

You rolled your eyes as he plopped the bags right in the middle of Sam's papers.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dean asked, settling himself into a chair and unwrapping a double cheeseburger.

"You would know if you had stayed to help make it," you replied annoyedly.

Dean flicked his eyebrows. "No need to get testy."

Sam sighed, deciding to intervene before things got ugly. You and Dean weren't exactly known for getting along, tolerating each other just enough to get jobs done when you had to. This was mostly due to the fact that you thought Dean was a douchebag, and he just dished back whatever you threw at him.

"The best plan we've got so far is that Y/N seduces the guy," Sam explained.

Dean snorted, almost spitting out his too-large bite of burger. "I'm sorry what?"

"I figure we'll never be able to get in there during the event, since it'll be so locked down," Sam continued. "Our best bet is getting him to let one of us in."

"Have you seen her?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a once-over. "Not exactly the seducing type."

You looked down at your current outfit. Cargo pants and a mens t-shirt topped with a utility vest and a leather bomber jacket. He had a point, although not for the reasons he thought. You could dress up, you just chose to dress practically. More pockets for knives. No, you just weren't sure you'd be able to convince the man you wanted him. Seventy-something sleazebags weren't exactly high on your to-fuck list.

"For once, I agree with Dean." You tossed the photo back onto the table. "Can we think of something else, please?"

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to see her try and pretty up to get in some old dude's pants, there's gotta be a more surefire way," Dean said with his mouth full. "Cuz you're no femme fatale," he added pointedly.

You were getting a little annoyed at his jabs. "You don't think I can do it?" you asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"Sister, I don't think you could seduce a virgin," Dean scoffed.

You turned to Sam, bristling. "That's it then. I'll do it."

"What?" Dean said loudly through his half-chewed bite.

Sam looked at you with concern. "Are you sure? Just because Dean-"

"I'm sure." You set your jaw confidently. "Let's go to the charity event."

"We're heading out to the car," Sam called through the bathroom door, where you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup.

"Be right there," you called back, surveying yourself in the mirror. Not bad, you thought, considering the last time you put on this much makeup was prom night. You had tried to go for something an old man would like: a classic red lip and smoky eye that paired pretty well with the vintage-looking slinky black satin dress you'd found at the thrift store around the corner. It went down to your ankles, showing off your heels, and had a long slit that made its way up your leg to your hip.

You threw your coat on and hurried out the door, hopping into the backseat of the Impala. Sam glanced at you in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows appreciatively, but Dean didn't spare you a second glance. You were annoyed, since half the reason you were doing this was to prove him wrong, but there would be plenty of time to show off later.

As the Impala peeled out of the hotel parking lot, you took a deep swig from the flask you kept in your coat pocket. This better work.

Neither of the boys helped you out of the car when you arrived.

"Chivalry is dead," you announced after almost stumbling onto your face getting out. You tossed your coat back into the backseat, revealing your outfit to the two hunters.

Suddenly Sam was all-too-eager to offer you his arm, and the two of you headed inside, Dean close behind. You hadn't missed the way his eyes widened when you dropped your coat, so you swung your hips a little as you walked. That'll show him.

The plan worked better than you could have hoped. The sleazy old something-inaire led you to his office, hand wrapped around your waist as you clung to his arm, pretending to laugh at his stupid sexist old man jokes.

As he clicked the heavy oak door shut, you quickly scanned the room, trying to find the artifact you came for. There. On his desk. All you had to do was grab it, and-

The old man grabbed you by the hips, pulling you flush against his body. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Insides roiling with disgust, you turned around and placed your hands on his chest, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. "Right here," you said cattily, batting your eyelashes as you grabbed him by the lapels and led him backwards to the desk.

Here goes nothing, you thought, and pulled the old guy in for a kiss. Trying to ignore the way his tongue dug into your mouth, you felt around behind you for the artifact.

Got it. You quickly palmed the object and broke the kiss, looking up at the old man through your lashes. Now Sam or Dean was gonna bust down the door, claiming you as his missing drunk sister.

Aaaaany minute now.

The old man smiled wolfishly and you felt his hands creeping lower, lower, until he grabbed your ass firmly, jerking you closer to him and capturing your lips again.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was not going how it was supposed to. You tried to wiggle away, but the guy was surprisingly strong for his age.

"Where you going, baby?" he asked, eyes glinting.

"I think I- I have to go," you said, aware that you were sounding a little panicked.

"You wanted this," he reminded you, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He swung you around and pushed you into the leather couch across from the desk. You tried to scramble up, but it was hard with your tight dress and the artifact still clutched in your hand, desperately being concealed, so the old man grabbed you easily by the hair, forcing you to stay down.

"Now why don't we put those pretty lips to use?"

The door swung open with a bang. The old man looked up, startled, releasing his death grip on your hair.

"There you are," came the fake-laughing voice of Dean.

"Who are you?" demanded the old man. "Get out of here!"

"Sorry man, this is my sister," Dean said, raising his hands apologetically. "She gets really hammered, acts like a slut. Gotta get her home." He helped you up, and you smiled and giggled, putting on the drunk-girl act.

Dean helped you hurry out of the room, the old man looking disappointed and angry at being cockblocked.

"Thanks," you whispered once you were down the hall and out of earshot. "What a creep."

"Please tell me you got it," Dean said darkly, weaving you through the crowd. You slipped the artifact into his suit pocket, giving it a pat for good measure.

"Didn't do that for nothing." You winked at him and pushed him away to walk the rest of the way to the car on your own two feet.

Dean stared after you, dumbfounded. He tried not to fixate on the way your hips swayed in that dress as you walked away proudly. God, that dress! It hugged your body perfectly, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing you all night. His cock was semi-hard in his dress pants, an annoying reminder of just how much you'd proved him wrong.

"Come on, dickhead," you yelled out the back window of the Impala. Dean realized starkly that he had stopped in place thinking about your tits.

"Dammit," he muttered, hurrying around to the driver's seat.

The three of you piled into your hotel room to debrief from the mission. You assured the boys that you were alright from your creepy encounter with the old guy, and that stealing the artifact was worth it. The way Dean watched you raptly as you began to disrobe was not lost on you.

"I've dealt with worse in my time," you reminded them, shaking out your hair. "I'm a solo female hunter. Sleazy men hit on me literally wherever I go." You plopped down on the bed and pulled your stockings off one by one.

"As long as you're sure," Sam said, stretching and yawning. "I'm gonna head back over to our room to get some sleep. You coming, Dean?"

Dean snapped out of his fantasy. "Uh, no. I'll be there in a little bit. Gotta talk to her about something."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Just don't bite each other's head off." And with that, he was gone.

You watched Dean from the shadows of the half-lit room. When he made no move to say anything, you did. "What do you need to talk about?" you asked, knowing full well. "Gonna say sorry cuz of how wrong you were?"

Dean flicked his eyes up to yours. Where had he been looking before?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. You did good."

You stood and sauntered over to where he sat in a straight-backed chair by the dresser. "But that's not all, is it?" You smirked at him and looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his crotch, where a tent had begun to form.

Dean covered his bulge with his hand and pressed down, growling. "You were a little too good."

"So, what? You stayed because you want me to help with that?" you teased, coming closer.

"Yeah," Dean said roughly, standing quickly.

"No," you said bluntly, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him back into the chair.

Dean grimaced. "Why? Please," he begged, face twisted in arousal.

You giggled. "Wow."

"What?" Dean snapped, eyes cracking open.

"Nothing," you said, smirking. "You could beg a little more, might help." You felt your own arousal start to pool in your panties.

"Please, Y/N." Dean looked up at you with wild eyes, squeezing his cock through his pants.

"Please what?" You cocked your head.

"Please... make me cum," he said finally, eyes dropping to your midriff, unwilling to hold your gaze.

You tilted his chin up so he would look at you again, feeling a certain sense of satisfaction that you had somehow reduced him to this begging, horny mess in the chair before you.

"All you had to do was ask," you said softly. You backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean started to get up and follow you.

"No," you said, holding up a red-manicured finger. "Sit back down." You pointed.

Dean frowned but did as he was told. You smiled, delighted.

"You're having way too much fun with this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry what was that?" you asked with a stern expression. "Do you want to cum or not?"

Dean's dick twitched in his pants. The way you bossed him around was really turning him on. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." You twirled your hair thoughtfully. Dean whined impatiently.

"Tsk, tsk." You crossed your legs at an angle where he could almost see through the slit into your crotch. "Take your cock out."

Dean was all too happy to oblige, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants faster than you could say desperate, hiking up his dress shirt in the process.

"Wait," you interrupted before he could go any further. "Why don't you unbutton your shirt, too. Wouldn't want to make a mess." You smirked.

"Okay," Dean agreed breathily, practically tearing the two sides of the shirt from each other, exposing his muscular torso. You had seen him shirtless before, but there was something about the way he was breathing, stomach rising and falling quickly as he panted, that turned you on when it wouldn't normally.

"Now you can take your dick out," you said. You held your breath a little as his cock came into view. He was fully hard now, and dripping. He squeezed the base, moaning.

"Now what?" he asked, eyes shut as he lightly stroked his cock with his fingertips.

"You need me to tell you how to jack off?" you asked meanly. To your surprise, Dean moaned loudly at that.

He began stroking his cock, slowly at first, building up speed as he could no longer contain himself. A near-constant string of quiet whimpers and moans fell from his lips. You took note of the way he swiped his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading it around to aid his fingers.

"Look at me," you instructed. You wanted to see that wild look in his eyes again, and were instantly rewarded as his eyes flew open to meet yours. His mouth fell open as he gasped when he saw you.

"Forget I was here?" you teased. Dean gulped and shook his head vehemently. His hand slowed, and he started tugging himself less frantically, holding eye contact with you intensely.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "You're so hot, wanna see you."

You smirked. "Only because you admitted it." You hiked up your skirt, spreading the slit open so he could see your black lace panties.

Dean devoured your skin with his eyes, rubbing the head of his cock in circles with his thumb.

You dropped the straps of your dress so that they hung loosely around your shoulders and ran your long nails across your collarbones, petting your shoulders. Then you took hold of the neckline and pulled it down, freeing your tits from the dress.

"Better than I imagined, baby," Dean groaned at the sight, as his hips bucked into his hand.

You took one of your breasts in your hand, squeezing it towards your chest. "You imagined?" you lilted, smiling.

"Been thinkin' about you all night," he admitted shamelessly. "How good your tits looked in that dress. How good- ngh- you looked walkin' away from me."

Your other hand started creeping into your skirt. "Thought I couldn't even seduce a virgin. What does that make you?"

Dean growled, jerking his cock faster. "I don't- fuck-"

"Maybe you're just a manwhore," you purred, hopping off the bed to approach him.

"Please," Dean gasped, tossing his head back. "I need you."

You scoffed. "I'm not that lacking in self-respect." You lightly scratched your fingernails down the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, groaning, hand stilling.

You leaned in to murmur in his ear. "No, you're gonna take care of this all... by... yourself." You laced your fingers into his short hair, scratching his scalp, and pulled his head back. He relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling.

"So take care of it," you remind him harshly, giving his hair a hard tug before letting go. Dean raised his head hazily and began to stroke his dick again, gasping. It was angry red, practically begging for release, but Dean seemed determined to tease himself until he couldn't take it anymore, which you suspected would be soon.

You turned your back to him and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a silken puddle. You heard Dean moan softly, sound of skin rubbing skin growing faster. You smiled to yourself as an idea occurred to you.

Against a backdrop of street lamplight coming through the window and lewd noises coming from Dean, you padded barefoot wearing only your underwear to the other side of the bed, where your pajamas lay folded neatly on the nightstand. You unfolded them and spread them out on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked hoarsely. "Don't- please stay- I need to see you," he whimpered finally.

You ignored him, as you had been planning to do, and put your pajamas on dramatically slowly to the soundtrack of Dean begging you to stop, stay naked, help him.

You turned back to him when you were finished and a rush of arousal hit you at the sight: Dean, cock in hand, sitting exactly where you had left him, sweaty and gasping and looking at you with a wild, desperate expression. You moaned softly in spite of yourself.

"Poor baby," you pout, rounding the bed to sit next to him again. "Haven't you come yet?"

Dean's hand was working overtime, forearm muscles flexing and rippling beneath his skin where his sleeve was rolled up.

"Can't," he breathed.

"You can't come?" You feigned surprise, even though you had known for several minutes that he was probably going to wait for your permission.

"Need you," Dean panted. "Can't do it- mm- without you."

"Sure you can," you said, running your nails down his chest. He shivered intensely.

Dean whimpered, face contorting in frustration. "I can't."

"What, I got you so turned on you can't even jack off without me?" you tease, fingertips stopping right above his happy trail.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you," you reply smoothly, digging your fingers into his stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes, although you weren't sure if it was sass or pleasure. "Please," he insisted, whining.

"Useless." You replaced his hand with yours, gripping his cock tightly as you stroked it for him. "Can't even make yourself come without my help."

Dean went slack-jawed, head falling back once more. "Uh-huh," he moaned breathily. He ground his hips upwards, trying to find more pressure or friction or something but getting nothing but what you gave him.

"You're a useless whore, right?" you taunted. He would tell you if you went too far, right?

"Yes," Dean groaned loudly. You almost clapped your hand over his mouth, certain that Sam could hear through the walls.

"Shhh, be quiet baby," you said instead. You swiped your thumb over the head of his dick and he hissed, biting his lip. Your other hand went down to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze.

Suddenly Dean's whole body tensed and his eyes flew open. "Shit- I'm so close, please," he panted. His abs flexed, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You increased the pressure on both hands slightly. "Go on then."

Dean let out a sound somewhere between a strangled gasp and a groan as he came, spurting over his stomach and your hands. You kept pumping, using his cum to aid your efforts, until he was begging you to stop between gasping breaths. Only then did you let go of him, admiring your handiwork.

One Dean Winchester (formerly unbelieving of your sexual prowess), spread over a chair, covered in cum, sweaty and panting and utterly fucked out.

"Thank you," he whispered weakly after a moment.

"Will you ever doubt me again?" you asked, smirking.

He rolled his head to the side to look at you. "No. Fuck, that was hot." Dean grinned. "Actually, I changed my mind. Maybe I should doubt you more often."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, Winchester. Clean up and go to bed."

Dean got out of the chair stiffly, winked at you, and went to do as he was told.

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn smut #spn fanfiction #userwraith

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