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seventeenreasonswhy · 4 months ago

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Same Team! A YJH Office Romance Pt. 10

18+ / NSFW!!!! MDNI!!!!!

Idol!Jeonghan x ProductionStaff!Reader

You’re serious about your job, but not as serious as Yoon Jeonghan is about flirting.

~6.7k words

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Content: slooowwwwww burn, fluff! but with tension!, cute flirting!, will-they-won’t-they vibes!, did I mention tension!?, some alcohol consumption, appearances by all of the members, reader is shy and gets flustered easily!, jeonghan is jeonghan-ing!

Chapter Content: smut (NSFW c/w below the cut!), kissing, making out, some unwanted advances by an NPC on Y/N!, hannie gets a little jealous

My Masterlist

NSFW Chapter Content: dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (please practice safe sex!), Jeonghan has a corruption kink and a ‘sir’ kink!, scolding/light degradation, edging/orgasm denial, some manhandling w/o establishing ground rules (please communicate before you do any kind of roughhousing in the bedroom ok? these two just happen to like the same thing!), nicknames: sir (for JH), ‘little whore’ (just once for Y/N).

Author’s Note: We’ve reached the final chapter!! I decided to end this series with Y/N and JH’s first time having sex together because I wasn’t rly sure how to end it without literally writing an entire series of novels lol (not that I WOULD’NT!). Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reblogged/liked this series!! It’s my first fanfic series for Seventeen and I had so much fun! I’m working on a school life AU fic featuring Wonwoo and a dystopian AU featuring DK next!! 😊

Taglist: @yeoberryx @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @Illucere @lukeys-giggle

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You had never been to Paris, but it fit how you’d pictured it almost exactly. The filigreed architecture, the wide, cobble-stoned streets, the elegant storefronts along the Champs Elysée... you were drinking it all in on the car ride to the hotel.

You had your own hotel room, which was more than you had expected. The designer brands had sprung for an entire floor, accommodating single rooms for each member and their staff—an upside of having so many brand ambassadors in one group.

You didn’t exactly have time to settle in, however. Your next event was taking place in the afternoon the following day and you and the other staff still needed to coordinate with each venue’s security on exactly when the members would arrive at their respective events. For you, this meant another car ride to YSL’s offices, where you and other staff would discuss details and procure badges for the runway show and afterparty the next day.

You dropped your bag down on the hotel bed, barely absorbing the luxurious room before you heard a knock at the door.

It was Yoon Jeonghan.

“Nuna,” he said as he waltzed right past you and into your hotel room. You instinctively looked out into the hallway, eyes wide, making Jeonghan laugh as he took off his shoes and sprawled out onto the bed, making himself at home.

“It’s more suspicious when you do that, you know,” he said, and you immediately shut the door and quietly—but urgently—told him to keep his voice down.

“What are you doing here?” you basically whispered, getting closer to where he was lying on the bed.

“You don’t want me to be in here?” The look he gave you was somewhere between a smirk and a pout, but the glint in his eyes made you pretty certain why he was here.

“Jeonghan-shi,” you said politely but firmly.

“Oh, professional mode,” he said—in English, too, just so it was crystal clear that he was making fun of you. You just fixed him with a glare, which unfortunately only made his grin wider.

“I have to go to the YSL office with the other staff soon, so I don’t have time to entertain you right now.”

“That’s okay, I’ll just watch you get ready.” The look on his face seemed to challenge you to kick him out as he laid back on the bed, fully spectating now.

“Okay, fine,” you said, deciding to call his bluff and quickly unzipping your bag, taking out your makeup and other supplies to freshen up a bit before you had to leave. Does he actually just want to be in here with me? You wondered, finding the idea hard to believe. Jeonghan could be doing a million things right now—it wasn’t often that he got to relax away from the commotion of the other members and their constant schedules. You knew he had tonight off, and that he could at least get dinner with Joshua or Mingyu... but he was in here, in your room, instead—watching you carefully as you sat at the sleek, modern-style vanity table in the corner of the room combing out your airplane hair with your fingers.

“Nuna, you didn’t bring a hairbrush?” he asked, sounding almost like a little kid.

“No, I forgot it,” you said, slightly embarrassed at even this extremely minor error. You’d moved on to gently patting your face with oil blotting paper as you saw Jeonghan walking out of the room.

“You can use mine; I’ll be right back.” It was a pretty innocuous thing, just lending you his hairbrush... But something about the way he’d said it... so casually, the way that a boyfriend would talk to you, made your heart leap a little bit.

Sure enough he returned with a hairbrush, but rather than handing it to you, he came up behind where you were seated in front of the small mirror and started gently brushing out your hair for you, making you tense up at first, but gradually relaxing under his touch.

Wow, you thought, unsure of the last time someone had brushed your hair for you... You honestly couldn’t even remember if your mom brushed your hair as a child. This feels nice.

You closed your eyes before even realizing it, the sensation of Jeonghan softly brushing out your hair was so relaxing. Jeonghan glanced at your face in the reflection of the vanity mirror, his heart squeezing inexplicably at your clearly exhausted expression. After a minute, he stopped brushing, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of your head.

Your eyes flung open at the feeling of his sweet kiss, and you whirled around awkwardly, eliciting a laugh from him.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” he teased in a low voice, “but you looked like all you want to do is sleep just now.”

The thought of staying here, ordering room service, and having Jeonghan’s fingers gently run through your hair, lulling you to sleep... to be honest, nothing sounded more appealing. But you couldn’t abandon your responsibilities, no matter how tempting it was.

By some stroke of genius (or insanity) your hand reached up to Jeonghan’s face, cupping the side of his cheek before gently running over your thumb over the cute mole under his eye. You were struck by how good his skin looked, even right after a long flight. It was so soft... He smiled at the touch, nuzzling into your hand slightly before you stood up and whispered to him.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t go,” he answered in a low voice immediately, shooting some kind of electric charge right through your body. He’d told you not to go on the plane, too.

I don’t want to go.

You were both standing close together now, his eyes trailing down your face, then down your neck, all the way down your body it seemed. You wanted so badly to pull him into an eager, hungry kiss, but you felt that if you started you wouldn’t be able to stop...

But a rap at your door cut the tension immediately, making the pit of your stomach drop.

“Y/N-shi,” it was the sound of Jeonghan’s manager’s voice. “Are you ready? We’re going to head downstairs.”

“I’ll be right down, thank you!” you said quickly.

You bolted to your bag, pulling out a blazer to throw over your t-shirt and jeans from the flight.

“You’re so jumpy,” Jeonghan pouted, having been on the verge of kissing you—actually, more like devouring you. The truth was you were driving him insane. That worried but determined look in your eye, the gentle waves in your hair after he’d brushed it—you looked like a princess. Something powerful inside him wanted to...

Wanted to what exactly? This feeling he had looking at you—bleary-eyed from the plane, but somehow still gorgeous—it wasn’t violent... but it was intense.

Like he wanted to... corrupt you.

He realized he’d never felt this kind of urge before. But he wanted to see your pretty, innocent face blush dark red while he did filthy things to you. Things that you may have even done before... he couldn’t say because he didn’t know that much about your past experiences in the bedroom, really, and honestly he didn’t care. Your whole aura exuded innocence to him, and he knew it might be wrong but truthfully... it drove him up the wall.

You didn’t really pick up on this, though, now having been thrown back into reality—where your professional responsibilities laid in wait for you. You quickly rummaged through your things in your carry-on, desperate to find where your folder of schedules and contracts was buried.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” Jeonghan said, unable to ignore your frantic rush out the door and trying to bring you back to him with his soothing voice. You were so affected by your work. You cared a lot. It was plain to see how big your heart was.

Jeonghan knew he was being selfish. He knew that you were making the choice to go out the door right now, and that your job came first... but he’d been finding it more and more difficult to resist getting close to you, teasing you, touching you...

“Will I see you later?” You turned to Jeonghan before leaving, trying to ignore his blatantly hungry stare.

“Mmhm,” he hummed sweetly right away, his eyes almost boring through you. His gaze was so intent, so tempting that all you could do was immediately slam the door behind you, practically running to the lobby.

***

The meeting with YSL was briefer than you thought it would be. It turns out, their team really just wanted to get drinks. They asked you and the other staff to go out with them, and you could hardly refuse.

“We can discuss business over some wine, yes?” The tall gentleman in the impeccably-cut suit said to you—he was apparently a production director who worked with a lot of brands during Fashion Week. You didn’t like the way he had guided you by the small of your back into the dimly lit bar, but you brushed it off as him just being friendly.

You were honestly too exhausted for drinks and wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, your chest still fluttering after the way Jeonghan had looked at you before you’d left.

“Where did you learn French?” the tall man asked you. You were now seated around a low table on red, velvety booths at the back of the chic bar. “It sounds like you’ve been speaking for a long time.” You were flattered that he was complimenting you—sincerely, too, by actually speaking to you in French instead of English. A seal of approval, you had learned.

“Oh, I kind of learn languages as a hobby,” you said.

“Y/N-shi is our language ace,” one of your coworkers said.

“That’s a good asset to have, indeed,” the man said, “I’ve never met someone who does something so laborious for fun.” He was kind of sprawled out on the bench, right next to you. He had his arm draped casually along the back of the seat behind you, which wouldn’t have bothered you if he hadn’t also been looking at you up and down... This guy felt sleazy. And you were pretty sure that he was trying to neg you with that ‘laborious’ comment.

“Yeah, I’m very into boring activities,” you said sarcastically in French, and then repeated it to your coworker in Korean, who mercifully laughed, hopefully picking up that you wanted her to stick around in the conversation so you wouldn’t be cornered by this guy.

“You don’t seem to have time to get bored with how hard you work,” the guy said, “Live a little.” He was changing his strategy. He had turned fully toward you now, the first two buttons of his shirt coming undone under his blazer. His cologne smelled overwhelming. You didn’t like the grin he flashed you with the words ‘live a little.’ His whole aura made your stomach turn. Your mind flashed to the smell of Jeonghan’s perfume. Much more subtle and beautiful...

“That’s true,” you said stiffly, before deciding that you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m so sorry, but I am actually starting to get a headache—” you tried to politely extract yourself from the conversation, standing up as you made your excuse, but the man suddenly grabbed hold of your wrist.

“Oh, don’t go just yet,” he said, obviously trying to keep his tone lighthearted, “the night is young!”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, adamant about keeping things professional, although now you’d put it together that this whole meeting was probably an excuse to go out and hit on the women in your team all along, “It’s been a long day, I’m going to go back to the hotel.” Your tone was firm enough to leave no room for interpretation, but you turned to your other colleague, indicating with your eyes that you needed help getting this guy off of you. Thankfully, she picked up on it.

“Yes, Y/N-shi,” she said quickly in her broken but polite French, “I saw you didn’t sleep much on the plane—go get some rest!” You couldn’t have been more grateful that she said that. The guy’s grip loosened on you, and you took the opportunity to quickly leave—not even looking behind you or saying goodbye to the others.

It’s not like similar things had never happened before. Working in this industry, especially on the production side of things, you met all kinds of sleazy guys like that. You were just glad that he hadn’t been drunk enough to make a scene.

But still, you felt agitated now.

Who does he think he is grabbing a total stranger like that, angry, indignant feelings swirled through you in the cab back to the hotel, and we’re supposed to work together this week...

Your mood hung heavy over you as you finally returned, opening the door of your hotel room with a click, relieved to at least be back in your own space.

But the space wasn’t entirely your own, it seemed. You entered to find Jeonghan, dozing off on your bed.

He looked just as angelic as he had sleeping on the plane. You quietly took off your shoes and shrugged off your blazer. Normally, you’d be panicked about him still being in here... in your bed, no less. For a split second you considered calling the front desk to send you a roll-away bed. That’s something hotels do, right? But even your inner rule-follower seemed to scoff at how absurd the idea was. Who am I kidding? Honestly, you were too tired to even fight with yourself. Of course you were going to crawl right into bed next to Yoon Jeonghan. Of course you had imagined moments like this for months—though, not exactly under these circumstances.

You quietly got your things from your bag, changing and getting ready for bed as silently as possible in the bathroom.

But Jeonghan’s eyes had fluttered open when you returned.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice coming out so sweet and sleepy it made your heart ache a bit.

“Ah, did I wake you up?” you asked softly.

“No, no,” he said in a quick and reassuring voice. You liked how he did that when it was clear someone was worried. You could clearly see he didn’t want the people around him to overthink things and get stressed out, so he was always quick to reassure them. Including you.

“Come here,” he said, motioning for you to lay in his arms. Your heart pounded, more self-conscious now that he was awake. But you crawled into bed next to him, despite feeling like you might turn to dust right then and there.

“How was your meeting?” he asked softly as you nestled into his chest, his arms wrapping around you sweetly, one hand smoothing down your hair... You could almost cry it felt so sweet and nurturing when he did that.

“Oh, it was—” you weren’t sure what to say. It wasn’t really a meeting, more like an odd excuse to go out and hit on the female staff...

But Jeonghan picked up on a shift in your tone right away.

“Did something happen?” He asked, gently brushing your hair away from your face, tucking it sweetly behind your ear. He was so close to you. This was the closest you had been since he’d come to your apartment that night. You didn’t want to talk about some sleazy guy on the production staff, you just wanted to fall asleep in Jeonghan’s arms, his hand petting you sweetly until you both drifted off... But Jeonghan’s curiosity was piqued even more by your pause.

“It’s nothing,” you sighed, “Just some French asshole.” Jeonghan’s hand stopped mid-brush along your hair.

“Who? What asshole?” his voice was still low and quiet, but he propped himself up a bit on his elbow to look directly at you.

“This guy who works on these runway shows,” you said, “He was just... he didn’t seem to be very professional.”

“What does that mean?”

Whoa, he’s worried, you realized.

“It’s nothing, Jeonghan,” you said, taking Jeonghan’s face between your hands, suddenly feeling anxious at his reaction, “they took us out to drinks, which I think was the point of the meeting all along, and he was just clearly only interested in flirting with the women there.”

“With the women there, or with you?”

“...What’s wrong?” It was strange for you to see Jeonghan react this way. You hadn’t seen him this amped up before, though he was still speaking at a low volume. You didn’t expect it—he always seemed so unflappable. He seemed to snap out of it at your question, though, quickly turning away from you. You could tell that he was embarrassed.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he said after a moment, his immaturity dawning on him, making him feel ashamed that he had reacted so hastily. The thought of other men hitting on someone he was seeing usually didn’t bother him... But the thought of someone else putting you in a position like that made him kind of furious. He faced you again, his stomach sinking at the look on your face—desperate and exhausted.

“Sorry,” he repeated, his tone calmer and sweeter, apologetically brushing your cheek, “I just don’t like that some idiot was making you uncomfortable.”

Your pulse raced. You had to admit... he seemed to feel bad about it, but it felt kind of nice to see him get protective like that...

“Let’s forget about him,” you said softly. It was like the words fell straight onto Jeonghan’s heart, making it flip over. He gazed at you; his eyes unable to hide how badly he wanted you. He pulled you closer, embracing you under the covers now. The tightening grip of his arms around your waist filling you with butterflies. It felt good to be held by him. You nuzzled your face deeper into his chest, making him want to squeeze you even closer, you were being so cute.

You felt Jeonghan’s hand take a gentle hold of your head, tilting it up toward him, and before you could think, he was kissing you. His lips felt so soft... but the way he was sweetly teasing your lips made some deep urge within you come to life.

You leaned into his kiss, pressing into him with a little more eagerness. He noticed, taking the cue to deepen the kiss, gripping your head in both of his hands now as you two laid there, making out in the hotel bed.

It wasn’t long until you were whimpering quietly against his lips. He traced your bottom lip with his tongue before pulling away slightly... Hovering over you now, your eyes meeting to exchange a brief, craving look before he smoothly hooked his thumb into your mouth, forcing it open, and dove in again, kissing you much more aggressively.

Jeonghan’s tongue invaded your mouth and you couldn’t help moaning sweetly into him, the vibration making his body heat up even more. You looked so beautiful and desperate... He wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes off and fuck you right away—make you pant, beg, scream... But he knew it would be better to take his time.

Not that you couldn’t tell how hungry he was for you—the pleading feeling of his tongue, the way his hands were starting to roam over you. It occurred to you that Jeonghan had wanted to do this with you for a long time.

As he kissed you, your mind began to melt—falling further and further into the realm of total surrender.

Jeonghan could feel your body relaxing beneath him. Not to mention the way you were openly and greedily responding to his kisses.

She likes this.

You felt his fingertips slip underneath your pajama top; his hand cool against your skin as it slid up your bare stomach. You wrapped your arms around his neck, not discouraging him. His other hand was still holding your face firmly beneath his as he continued to feverishly make out with you. You could hear the soft, lapping noises of your kissing echoing through the room...

Suddenly you let out a yelp—louder than you’d intended—when you felt his hand ghost over your breast, his thumb brushing lightly against your already-pert nipple through the fabric of your cute, lacey bralette.

You felt Jeonghan smile against your lips, satisfied at your reaction.

“Mm, Y/N-ah you’re going to get us in trouble if you’re that loud,” he murmured in your ear, teasing you before trailing more kisses down your neck—making you gasp softly at the feeling of his silky, wet lips; reflexively gripping his shoulders.

He was making his way down your body, and you knew that if he went any further you might not be able to handle it... but with all of the pleasure coursing through you, gathering in the pit of your stomach, making your legs start to squirm... you didn’t want him to stop.

Jeonghan nipped at your collarbone, making you draw your breath in sharply before he continued to kiss you over your top—the space between your breasts, your abdomen, just below your belly button... You could feel your breathing getting more ragged the lower his face got.

His lips arrived at the space between the waistband of your pajama shorts and the raised hem of your top—his hand was still up your shirt, holding onto the sensitive spot along the bottom hem of your bra on one side. He looked up at you. His expression made it feel like he was challenging you, but you knew he was waiting for permission to go further. You had no idea what kind of face you were making... you felt like you could scream, your body felt so overwhelmed already.

In an attempt to control your volume, you bit into your own hand before glancing down at Jeonghan with your best “please continue” look.

He honestly didn’t care what kind of look you gave him; all he knew was the way you were desperately biting your own hand was hot enough for him to throw caution to the wind and discard your top for you. He pulled it over your arms and flung it aside in one fluid motion before returning to the space between your belly button and the waist of your shorts... kissing the sensitive spot sweetly while hooking his fingers underneath the band and pulling your shorts down to reveal your absolutely soaked underwear.

“Ah, who knew Y/N-ah was such a dirty girl,” he pretending to chide you in a low, commanding tone. Your stomach lurched at his words as your legs instinctively tried to snap together, your hand flying down from your mouth to try to cover yourself from his up-close view. But Jeonghan caught you by the wrist, forcing your hand to the side and holding it in place against the bed. He was surprisingly strong, and the decisive way he averted your attempt to cover yourself... did something to you.

You wouldn’t say that you were the kinkiest person out there... not by a long shot. But you couldn’t pretend you didn’t like being dominated a little. Especially by Yoon Jeonghan.

“No hiding,” Jeonghan’s command sent an electric shot right through you with his direct gaze and scolding tone.

“Yes, sir,” you said before thinking. There was a pause as you realized what you’d just called him, your hand writhing under Jeonghan’s grip in a futile attempt to cover your face out of embarrassment. Since when did you call people ‘sir!?’ Had you ever said that to someone!? Your eyes were wide and your face hot with disbelief, completely mortified.

You peeked down at Jeonghan, worried that he’d be weirded out by you calling him that out of nowhere, but he didn’t look weirded out at all...

If anything, he looked feral.

“Good girl,” he hummed, his smirk making it apparent just how turned on he was. It wasn’t just that you had called him ‘sir,’ but your cute, flustered reaction made him want to push your buttons even further. He kept his gaze directed at you as he placed his head between your legs again, watching as you averted your eyes—too overwhelmed to watch as he kissed the sweet wet spot that had formed on your underwear. So fucking cute, he couldn’t help thinking, enjoying this rare opportunity to see you so helpless. His lips started teasing you, planting wet kisses against your folds, with only the drenched fabric of your underwear standing between your bare cunt and his mouth. The embarrassment of him being so up close made your whole body flare up. Your legs were trembling with anticipation as you felt Jeonghan’s mouth moving before sucking lightly on your clit—making you moan, your back arching from the effort of trying not to be too loud or squirm too much.

Jeonghan was grinning against your underwear now. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. She can’t stand it. Your squirming, whimpering voice was too sexy. He wished he could watch you all hot and bothered like this forever, edging you until you cried.

He finally let go of your wrist, sitting back on his heels and making sultry eye contact with you before removing your underwear.

“Ah, I knew it,” he said softly, “nuna’s pussy is perfect.”

You couldn’t help turning your face to the side. You were so wound up that you didn’t know how to even react, like your mind wasn’t even aware of what your body was doing.

You felt Jeonghan shift his position slightly, threading his arms beneath your knees now so that your thighs were resting on his shoulders and he could grip your waist with his hands. Your face snapped toward him, something like fear rushing through you at the realization that he could see all of you up close now. He noticed the look of panic in your eyes and kissed the inside of your thigh sweetly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a velvety, whispered tone. He bent his head down and kissed the space just above your clit softly.

You threw your head back, biting your lip to contain the filthy sounds that were threatening to burst out of you as he began to lick and kiss your folds. His earlier kisses were delicious, but his mouth working delicately at your soaking wet cunt felt unreal.

“Mmm,” he moaned into you, the vibration stimulating you so harshly and suddenly that your hand flew down to his hair, taking the soft strands into your grip before you could even control yourself. But this only made him go harder at devouring you... He held you down by the hips, your legs shaking with ecstasy.

“Ah, Jeonghan-ah...” you moaned his name, making him murmur in satisfaction against your pussy, loving the sensation of you tugging his hair as his tongue dove in and out of you. He moved his head slightly, taking your clit between his lips and sucking on you. This threw you into a full-bodied convulsion. He wished you could just scream out the way you clearly wanted to...

“Ah, I’m gonna come—” you breathed, certain that if he continued to fuck you with his tongue like this, you would surely get his face covered in your juices. The thought of it made you desperate to get him off of you and eager for him to keep going at the same time.

“Mmm, I can feel you tighten around my tongue when I put it in,” he mused against you, making you laugh nervously, caught off guard by such a specific and perverted comment. He took the opportunity to eat you even more vigorously, his tongue lapping up your juices as your clit twitched out of control...

You were about to succumb to a powerful orgasm, when suddenly the sensation of Jeonghan’s tongue disappeared.

You jerked your head up in confusion, only to see that Jeonghan was now standing at the end of the bed, giving you an incredulous look as he started casually removing his shirt.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, feigning innocence, “I thought you knew that if you want to come, you have to ask nicely.”

Your breathing was heavy, making your chest rise and fall dramatically as you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smirked, his lips and chin still glistening with your arousal. His taunting look turned you on way more than you wanted to admit. You gulped in air, trying to catch your breath. Jeonghan was down to just his underwear now, and you could see the burgeoning outline of his cock pressing against the black fabric of his briefs.

Alright, if you want to play that game...

You sat up, softening your face but still holding Jeonghan’s cruel gaze. You made your way to all fours on the bed before him and looked up, attempting your best coquettish face.

“Please, sir,” you said in a poutier tone than you normally used, batting your eyelashes and everything. “Please let me come.”

Jeonghan’s face almost cracked into a full-blown smile, making you feel smug for calling his bluff. Honestly, he didn’t think he could stand it either if that’s how you were going to be. The erotically pure sound of your voice, the angle of your sweet eyes gazing up at him, your begging tone... He didn’t think he could get any harder looking at you but somehow you’d provoked him even more.

He took your jaw roughly in his hand, jerking your face up further to meet his wolfish gaze.

“Better,” he said, “but not quite nice enough.” He enjoyed the flash of panic in your eyes almost as much as the glare that followed. Letting go of his grip on your face, he bent down to unhook your bra. His face was closer to yours now, and you could tell that he was reaching his limit, too.

“Sir, could I please make you feel good then?” you asked, your voice soft and syrupy sweet.

Jesus, Jeonghan thought, chuckling now at how outrageously turned on and amused he was by you toying with him like this.

He removed your bra, exposing your cute boobs. You sat up, suddenly nervous again and attempting to cover yourself from being totally naked in front of Jeonghan like this. Your abdomen was aching with want, your pussy still dripping from him going down on you... But his voice brought right back to the task at hand.

“What did I say about hiding?” he snapped at you, and you hurriedly lowered yourself back down to all fours, giving him an exaggerated, apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, “please, let me make you feel good.”

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?” he asked, his tone mocking.

“Could I suck your cock?” you quirked your head cutely to the side, puffing out your lower lip and hoping that this would be enough to please him.

“What do you say?” he asked, but he was grinning—already palming his hard length, clearly enjoying this...

“Pretty please?” you smiled sweetly, and Jeonghan almost groaned he was so overwhelmed with how sexy and cute you were being. How could he have known that you would turn into this perfect, provocative sex kitten for him? How did he get so lucky?

“Good girl,” he said and he let his stiff length spring from his briefs as they fell to the floor. You couldn’t help letting a small gasp escape your lips. You should have expected his cock to be just as pretty as the rest of him, but this man had the most beautiful dick you’d ever seen. You looked up at him again, smiling gently, before taking his tip into your mouth, teasing his slit a little with your tongue. Jeonghan let his head fall back, the feeling of your mouth on him making him groan in pleasure.

You gradually worked his cock further and further into your mouth, swirling your tongue in slow, sensuous circles around his girth before getting into a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length. He looked down at you, gritting his teeth from the stimulation you were giving him. You were talented at this. You probably wouldn’t say so, but Jeonghan could tell; your obliviousness to how sexy you were just making him desire you more.

He took a fistful of your hair in his grip, gently helping to push his cock into your throat. You made a slight gagging noise, but didn’t show any sign of stopping—instead grabbing onto his thighs to support yourself as you picked up the pace.

Jeonghan was moaning, but conscious of not getting too loud. He sounds so good, you thought as you sucked your cheeks in, maximizing the pressure on his cock. You held onto him tightly, sure from his grip on you that he was getting close to coming.

But before you could finish him off, he pulled you away from his dick by your hair, your mouth releasing from him with a pop as his grip forced your face roughly upward to look straight into his ravenous eyes.

“You little whore.” His voice might have been low and seductive, but there was a bemused smirk on his face as he called you the degrading nickname. You couldn’t help smiling a little, too, feeling cocky at him lashing out like that—clearly you’d almost made him come before he wanted to.

But you couldn’t say he looked mad. He was grinning softly, still holding you roughly by your hair as both of you panted, challenging each other with the respective gleams in your eyes, held upright only by the tension of the other’s grip.

After a moment of catching your breath, Jeonghan closed the gap between you with another deep, gluttonous kiss. His arms wrapped around you and you felt his hard cock—wet now with his precum and your spit—press into your lower abdomen from his standing position as you held onto him, still on your knees atop the bedspread.

Jeonghan guided you backward onto the bed with his body, crawling on top of you as he pushed his tongue further into your mouth. You could faintly taste your own come still left on his lips. He raised your arms above your head, holding you down by your wrists and making you squirm beneath him. He left hungry, heavy kisses along your jaw, your neck, moving down to your chest... You mewled with pleasure at the feeling of his tongue capturing one of your nipples, lathing over the hard bud and making you jolt.

“Y/N-ah’s nipples are so cute,” he said, suddenly shifting back to his regular speaking tone, making you laugh at his random sweet commentary. But you weren’t distracted for long before he was sucking on your other nipple, still pinning you down by the wrists to ensure you wouldn’t to put a stop to his teasing.

“Ah, Jeonghan...” you panted his name, and he turned to look at you again. He was so beautiful. You couldn’t believe that this beautiful man was ravishing you like this...

“Nuna, I can’t be patient anymore,” he said in your ear, and you felt his hard length slide against you... You simply answered his implied question by reaching your neck forward to kiss him again, softly this time.

“Please let me come this time, sir,” you whispered, smiling at him. Jeonghan returned your sly smile, adjusting his body ever so slightly before effortlessly gliding his hard cock into you.

You let out a high-pitched sigh at the luxurious stretch his cock gave you, his thick length seeming to barely fit between your walls. It had been a while since you’d done this, really—you were just thankful that he’d gotten you so wet already. It didn’t hurt at all, but you felt a delicious tension at the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix.

“Ah, fuck, Y/N,” he breathed in your ear, his hands pressing down firmly on your wrists as his head dropped to your shoulder. You were so tight; he was sure if he moved at all he’d come right away—and he didn’t want to do that just yet. It wasn’t nearly enough time inside of you. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t masturbated a few times while imagining this exact moment, but of course the real thing was beyond compare...

You started to lose it, the way that Jeonghan wasn’t moving—just kissing you languidly, letting go of your wrists in favor of holding you by the waist.

“Jeonghan—” you whimpered his name, unable to even form a full sentence you wanted him to start fucking you so badly. Jeonghan glanced down at you, giving you one more kiss before he started to thrust his hips into you.

His cock slid in and out of you so easily, the delicious rhythm of stretching you and then releasing the tension and then stretching you again making you moan, and even you weren’t sure if you could keep the volume down.

Jeonghan watched your beautiful face twist into an expression he’d never seen from you—completely ecstatic. He loved that you smiled while he was inside you, feeling your whole body respond to his made him feel in danger of losing control.

He picked up the pace, holding you in place with one hand on your waist and the other hooked underneath your knee, pulling it up higher to get an even deeper angle into you. You felt his cock hit your most sensitive spot repeatedly, covering your mouth again to keep yourself from screaming in pleasure.

“Uh-uh,” Jeonghan quickly pulled your hand away from your mouth, “you don’t get to cover your mouth, Y/N.” You pressed your lips firmly together, practically biting your tongue now. Jeonghan had sat up on his knees, holding you by the hips as he slammed his cock into you repeatedly, his pace getting brutal now.

“Jeonghan!” you couldn’t help letting out a yelp of his name as your orgasm finally hit you in full force, making your legs tremble against Jeonghan, your arousal dripping down his cock—still beating into you steadily. Your face was flushed and there were tiny tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, which was all Jeonghan needed to be sent over the edge, as well. He felt the coil inside him snap and quickly removed himself from you, coming instead all over your bare stomach and tits.

You felt the hot sensation of his come on you, both of you breathing heavily... You looked up at him to see him already looking at you, panting, completely fucked out. He drew his breath in sharply, and you both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

You covered your face in embarrassment, suddenly internalizing what just happened, your exhaustion mixed with the joy of having finally done it with Jeonghan making you delirious.

“Stay there, nuna,” Jeonghan said sweetly before scampering off to the bathroom, returning with a towel and carefully cleaning you up. He was back to making cute and silly noises as he touched you, any trace of the man who just fucked you had gone now, replaced with your usual adorable Jeonghan. He finished cleaning you and himself up, and jumped right into bed, curling up next to you like a baby.

You couldn’t stop giggling; you were so excited and nervous—you were sure that at least someone on this floor heard the two of you... these old fashioned hotels didn’t exactly have sound-proof walls. But even you were fine with leaving that to be tomorrow’s problem.

Jeonghan watched you, overjoyed that you seemed so giddy.

“Ah, nuna’s smile is the best,” he said, nuzzling your nose with his.

“Hannie’s smile is the best,” you said, melting his heart with the nickname.

Jeonghan’s arms wrapped around you and you cuddled your face into his silky hair, unable to stop smiling even after you drifted off to sleep.

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house-of-lovin · 2 years ago

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legally binded - 7

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 7: The Afterparty

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: so... lovely weather we're having. 🙂

Word Count: 4k+

“Where’s Y/N?” Enrique asked as the door of the van shuts closed, for a moment, the incessant sounds of camera shutters and the crowd shouting her name become muffled.

And in that same moment, Jenna feels like she can finally breathe properly through her own lungs.

“Upstairs,” Jenna mumbled, leaning her expertly pinned hair against the headrest, and closing her eyes.

“I take it things didn’t go well?” He fiddled with his cap, frowning as he watched the young actress’ exhausted features.

Jenna hummed in confirmation but said nothing else, looking out the tinted window as the van started driving slowly.

Staring up at the hotel, she scanned the various, nearly identical windows for your hotel room. Jenna didn’t even know if your room was facing this direction but she looked anyway, a wishful part of herself hoped to catch a glance of you.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay. You two will be okay.”

Jenna snorted, shooting her stylist an incredulous look. “I thought you were mad at her?”

“I’m mad at her for being stupid and for hurting you… even if she is a cutie.” He rolled his eyes, getting comfortable in his seat.

The actress laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that, you know she has a massive ego.”

Enrique joined in on the laughter before his tone dropped, “You know Sarah and Liv are going to find out that the two of you didn't go to the same party…”

Right now, Jenna could care less about whatever kind of consequence she may get. The embers from her argument with you are still burning bright.

“That’s an issue for later.”

***

Jenna tried to make the best of a bad situation.

She really did.

Even though this wasn’t how she expected to spend the rest of her night — she somehow found a way to let loose. Maybe after she found a few familiar faces that pulled her in to dance, tipped back a few drinks and sang along as Janelle Monae performed for her after-party.

But even still, under the guise of alcohol and a good time. There was an unpleasant churn in her stomach whenever she allowed her mind to drift off to you.

“I’m gonna go to the washroom!” Jenna yelled through the music. Enrique nodded, continuing to cheer Janelle Monae on stage.

Laughing, she walked away while shaking her head; amused at her friend. Glad that he’s having a good time. One of them deserves to be having fun, at least.

As Jenna pushed through the heavy-panelled door of the powder room, she sat on the couch and placed her purse down. Grateful to be stretching her aching legs.

She takes a second to breathe and in that moment, allowed herself to think about you; wondering which party you went to and who you were surrounded by.

And for a split second, that unpleasant churn in her stomach reemerged as her mind drifted to all the worst possible outcomes of what you could be doing tonight.

Are you safe?

Is someone looking out for you?

Jenna’s decided not to ask Link about you this time, deciding that you two do, in fact, need space for the time being.

She knows she should apologize for the way she acted all day, even all week. Jenna knows she was just projecting her unresolved feelings about you from Coachella and instead of just telling you that she’s been worried and just wants you to talk to her, to let her in.

She decided to be petty and give into the heat of the moment, instead..

Jenna hopes the two of you can talk about it later tonight. But then she remembers the fact that you’re probably drinking, partying and doing god knows what else so that conversation and apology would probably have to wait until you’ve sobered up.

Standing, Jenna's decided she's had enough of wallowing in her own misery and walked over to the sink to wash her hands.

“Oh, hi!” A sweet-sounding higher pitched voice greeted her from behind after the sound of a door opening and heels clinking.

Immediately, she linked gazes with a certain Hailee Steinfeld through the mirror.

Jenna tried hard to school the surprise on her face.

“Hello…” Jenna smiled politely and glanced away, continuing to wash her hands.

“I’m Hailee…” The other woman greeted, sliding into the sink beside her, a pearly white smile on her full-pink lips.

“I’m Jenna, I would shake your hand but…” She gestured down to the running sink.

Hailee shook her head and laughed. “It’s okay, I’m glad to finally meet you! Can I just say how gorgeous you look! I thought your carpet look was amazing but this — you look stunning!”

“Oh! Uh— Thanks?” This time her surprise is hard to subdue. Feeling flushed under the weight of the other woman’s compliments.

She's never been great at accepting them.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed,” Hailee smiled sheepishly. Her thick brows furrowing in her own embarrassment.

The heat begins to crawl up her neck. “It’s okay! I— I appreciate it. You look gorgeous as well.”

Taking the time to scan her, the younger actress has to crane her neck up to see Hailee’s face — it’s no wonder you ended up dating her. The woman is gorgeous.

She tries to stave the green-eyed monster clawing at her chest at the thought of you two together because the woman standing across from her has been surprisingly pleasant.

“Please!” Hailee waves off, smiling softly, turning to wash her own hands.

Jenna allows the silence to take over the room, unsure of what to say next. After washing her hands, she turned off the sink and walked over to grab paper towels.

Hailee cuts in before she can think about it too hard.

“Hey,” The singer called out as Jenna was about to pick up her purse, “thank you... for looking out for her.”

“What?” Jenna turned, raising her brows in question.

Hailee sighed, leaning against the counter to face Jenna.

“I know Y/N’s not the… easiest. She tends to push people away. I think it’s just the way she’s always been. I’m not really sure. With the whole Vegas situation and these rumours going around about a possible arrest — which, you know, is bullshit, Y/N doesn’t do drugs — her first instinct would’ve been to run and push people away. But you’re still here… so something tells me you’re special.”

Jenna feels her heart drop at the other woman’s words.

“Y/N can be reckless and cold at times, but I think it’s just an act," She continued; smile contorting sadly, “so she doesn’t actually have to open up to people… I’ve—uh, tried, so I kinda know.”

Jenna was stunned, unsure of what to say to that. Hailee made it sound like you were the one that got away or something. She also caught the openness that accompanied her tone, like the other woman had accepted the circumstances of the situation.

Like she just... let it be.

There wasn’t a lot of things Jenna was certain about but she knew she didn't want to feel that way about you, to just accept your coldness and inability to let people in.

“Anyways, she said you’ve kept her standing on her feet these last few months.” Hailee smiled softly, sincerity burning bright in her eyes. “So thank you, 'cause she deserves someone patient like you.”

“Thank you…” Jenna finally managed to say despite the barbed wire feeling around her throat.

You really said that? Did you mean it?

If you did then she feels terrible.

“No, thank you, I was scared Link and Y/N were gonna grow old and still be living together. They’re weirdly co-dependent.” Hailee jokes, breaking the heaviness in the room.

Jenna couldn’t help the snort that leaves her mouth.

And just like that, it felt like two friends enjoying an inside joke.

Jenna's laughter trails off before it turns to a heavy sigh as she grabs her purse. “So I should probably apologize to her, huh?”

The corner of Hailee's mouth tugs a small smug smile. “Depends on what she did… maybe let her sweat it out for a bit more then apologize.”

Jenna chuckled before nodding. “Noted… thank you, Hailee.”

Hailee nods, smiling softly as Jenna turned to walk out of the bathroom.

A surprisingly pleasant feeling appeared in her chest the farther she walked away.

She felt a bit lighter after that conversation, which is a shock considering she just talked to your ex-girlfriend. For a moment, Jenna felt guilty for her earlier reservations about the other woman. Not wanting to admit that she had let her jealousy cloud her judgment of character.

Hailee had nothing but great things to say about her — and you for that matter. A testament to how, despite your hot and cold demeanour, there’s someone worth knowing underneath.

Ugh. She hated it when she was wrong.

But there was also that nagging echo in her head that had to admit that she was glad she was wrong about you.

I’m sorry for what I said. Can I come see you? Are you still at the other after-party?

Swallowing her pride, she hit send then walked back to the party to find Enrique, hoping she can distract herself as she waits for your reply.

20 minutes go by without a response and Jenna doesn’t know if she should start feeling annoyed or worried; the line between the two is thinning by the second, she concluded. She decided she leaned more on the latter and stepped away from the party once again. Roaming the halls before stepping out onto a secluded balcony; grateful for the warm night in the early May month.

Pulling out her phone from her clutch, she called Link immediately, knowing that if anyone knew your whereabouts it’d be him.

“Hello?” Link answered breathlessly and in the background, the actress can hear sounds of traffic and people talking over one another.

“Link? Can you hear me?” Jenna spoke into the lonely night air.

“Yeah— yeah, sorry.” It sounded like Link walked away from the noise because when he spoke again, it sounded much clearer. But she immediately noted the urgency in his voice. “Hey.”

“Hey, I texted Y/N 20 minutes ago but she didn’t respond, is everything okay?” Jenna got to the point, chewing her lip.

“Shit—“ Link cursed. “Uh, about that.”

“Link, what does that mean?” Jenna felt every muscle in her body tense at his words, like before a big drop on a rollercoaster.

“We can’t find her.” Link confessed.

Jenna’s stomach dropped. Yeah, except that rollercoaster has just derailed.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“We lost her. She said she was going to the bathroom but she never came back.” He recounted nervously.

“What—“ Jenna was dumbfounded, mind on overdrive as a sudden wave of coldness washed over her body as she processes what she’s just been told.

You're missing.

No one knows where you are.

“Are you looking for her now?” Jenna manages to ask, gripping the balcony railing for support. She thinks she feels a little light-headed but she pushes that thought away because you are more important, right now.

“Yes, of course. We checked everywhere. But uh—it’s been almost two hours since anyone’s seen her…” Link hesitated before confessing.

The last thing they need is for Jenna to start freaking out too.

Jenna’s stomach dropped again. This time she feels like she’s been launched off the rollercoaster entirely and is free-falling mid-air.

“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay. She does this, it’s kinda her thing. We’ll find her soon. Don’t worry.” Link reassured after Jenna doesn’t respond.

“When was the last time that she did this, Link?” Jenna asked shakily.

A beat passed before the man answered. “Vegas…”

“Shit…” They said in unison.

“What—what do we do?” Jenna asked.

“Just keep texting and calling her. I’m out looking for her right now, I have her entire security team with me.” He reassured her once again but she can still hear the trepidation in his tone.

“Okay…” Jenna trails off, not really sure if she’s actually listening at this point.

“Jenna— we’ll find her, don’t worry.” Link said with certainty but it didn’t ease the anxiety in her chest.

“I know…” Jenna mumbled, grasping her phone with a mighty grip and forced herself to take a calming breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll start calling her. Maybe I should go back to her room, in case she comes back?”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, keep me updated Jen.”

“I will.”

The line goes dead as Link hangs up.

“Shit.” Even with Jenna’s trembling fingers, she contacted your number with haste.

But the call never even rang.

***

It’s past 2 AM and no one has still heard from you.

She had left you a total of 26 missed calls and almost 50 text messages. That’s not even counting the ones she’s sent you through Enrique’s phone.

At this point, Jenna was ready to go to the police but Link advised her that they wouldn’t be able to do anything because it hasn’t been 24 hours yet. Your closest confidant also warned her of adding fuel to the fire with the press if headlines that you're missing are released.

The actress feels an excruciatingly sharp pain forming in between her brows; the early stages of a migraine, the longer she paced around your room.

“Where is she, Link?” She chewed on the bottom lip, anxiously. “What if something bad happened? She doesn’t have security with her...”

“Her whole team has been driving around the city looking for her but we already checked the other after-parties and she wasn’t there. I hate to say it, Jenna, but if Y/N doesn’t want to be found, you won’t.” Link sat down on the couch in the living room.

The wrinkled exhaustion and worry were clear as day on his face. Jenna sighed, sitting down beside him. “I know you tried your best. Thank you for looking…”

“Yeah… of course. How are you though?” He turned, scanning her equally exhausted features.

“I feel terrible if I had just tabled it like she said–”

“Hey–” Link cuts in, shaking his head. “Don’t. Y/N’s gonna do whatever she wants, you can’t put this one on you.”

Jenna nods unconvincingly, slumping against her seat. “What about you? How are you?”

He stared off, deep in thought. “She’s like my sister, you know. We didn’t have it easy growing up. I know she’s— stand-offish and hard to get along with at times…”

Jenna turned to face him at his sudden confession, deciding to stay silent.

“You can’t even imagine how many times I’ve tried to quit being her assistant.” Link chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. “But I could never really do it. ‘Cause even though she has these massive walls around herself and that annoying-ass nonchalant attitude. I know sometimes this job is a lot… even for her.”

Jenna huffed, slouching back into the soft couch, trying to be understanding. “I know… trust me I know the job, we all do–”

Link shakes his head. “You don’t. Not her story at least…”

Snapping her head to the side, she watches the assistant’s side profile, noting the deep wrinkle on his forehead. “What does that mean?”

She couldn’t help but ask.

He sighed, “It’s not my place to say but Y/N's been through some stuff. Stuff that you wouldn't wish on anyone.”

“What?”

He sighed again, debating if he should open the can of worms. “At the time, I was living with my grandmother. She’s the only family I have left, it’s probably why I can’t let go of Y/N too. The money I make from working with her, I send to take care of my nan… But even with all that, Y/N was dealing with her mom.”

“She told me she was controlling or something — wanted more money?” Jenna scrunched her nose in disgust at how someone can treat their own flesh and blood like that.

“She wasn’t just controlling, Jenna… she tried to sue Y/N over it. She tried to take away her right to make decisions over her own career and when that didn’t work she tried to get her to quit the industry."

Jenna’s stomach dropped. “What?”

Linked nodded, watching Jenna’s stunned reaction. “Yeah… Jake and Liv fought against it. It never turned into a legal case, thank god. The judge dismissed her claims but it really fucked with her head you know. That her own mother could do that to her."

Jenna stared off into nothing as she processed his words.

No wonder you’re so closed off and scared to let people in. She felt sick to her stomach thinking about what you’ve gone through and how, even despite all of that, you still managed to stay standing on your own two feet and carry on as if nothing happened.

She wonders how long it’s been since you’ve really let anyone in.

“I knew she’d been dealing with things… these last few months. She had a packed year last year and her schedule was only getting busier. She never outwardly said it was becoming too much but I could see it. It started small; missing texts, calls, alarms… then she wouldn’t come home cause she was partying all night… it got too much. I think that singer and his friends were taking advantage of her fame but she always brushed me off whenever I said something. We even got into a big fight before Vegas so I stayed with a friend for a couple of days to cool off.”

“Link…” Jenna trailed off, she heard the guilty tone accompanied by his words. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No… I know. Y/N’s going to do what she wants, I’ve learned to accept it. It still doesn’t make me feel any better that she’s in this situation and that I could’ve done something to prevent it.”

Link cleared his throat, sitting up a bit. “Just saying… from Y/N’s person to the other – I get what you’re feeling. She’s definitely not the easiest but I don’t know… when she shows she cares, you know she means it.”

“You think I’m Y/N’s person?” Jenna asked shocked. “We barely know each other.”

Link rolled his eyes, sending her a flat look. “Yeah ‘cause you two communicate through silent looks and then don’t talk about your feelings. If you guys fix your shit then maybe you can be her person too.”

Jenna opened her mouth for a rebuttal but the sound of something smacking against the wall interrupted her.

Immediately, the assistant and actress spring up, walking spritely to the foyer. When they round the corner, Jenna is torn between feeling relieved or furious.

They spot you, slumped against the wall nearly slipping on your own two feet, piss-fucking-drunk as you dropped the keycard to the floor.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Link scoffed but briskly walked over to help you up, throwing your arm over his shoulder. "What the hell happened to you?"

“Sorry for being a disappointment, Dad.” You mumbled as Link dragged you down the hallway. Eyes barely opened and even then, Jenna can see the alcohol-muddled haze through your slow blinks.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Jenna echoed as she watched how you had to be carried, too drunk to do it yourself.

It scared her, this was not a version of you that she liked.

She doesn’t want to listen to that small voice in her head again, the one that’s saying you’re bad news. You’re a party animal, this is what you do. You’re reckless. But the other part of her wants to give you a chance to explain yourself, especially after what Link just told her – it’s hard to keep that sentiment when you act like this though.

“Oh hey, Jenna.” You waved as if nothing is wrong, toothy smile on your lips. “I tried looking for you at the party… then I realized we fought and that’s why you weren’t with me. Are you still mad at me?”

Jenna didn’t know what to say so she kept quiet and followed Link as he lead you to the bedroom, nearly throwing you onto the mattress.

“Fuck, Y/N. You can’t keep doing this.” Link sighed out, taking a few steps back from the bed to scan you.

“Who’s gonna stop me?” You snorted, sitting up to tug your shoes off, chucking them without care.

“Dude, for real? We spent nearly four hours looking for your ass. Do you realize what kind of trouble you could’ve gotten into if–”

“–yeah, yeah,” You wave off and Jenna can see Link’s eye twitching and jaw clenching in anger. He knew better than to fight with a drunk person. Especially if that person is you.

He lets out a deep breath, then turned to younger actress, “I can’t be around her right now. I’m sorry.”

Then he walked away, slamming the door loudly behind him making Jenna flinch. A few seconds of silence pass without a single movement.

“What are you still doing here?” You asked in a snipped tone, breaking the quietude. Jenna doesn’t know if she should feel offended.

Crossing her arms, she scans your dishevelled attire. Your tie is loose, buttons are undone, and dress shirt is half-tucked – in short, you looked like a hot mess. “I’ve been calling you all night, where have you been?”

“Phone died.” You yanked your blazer off, throwing it on the floor, “and out… drinking.”

“With who? By yourself or with someone?” Jenna asked, walking closer, and helping you take off your tie.

“Doesn’t matter..” You grumbled as she helped you, looking at a spot on the wall and Jenna clenched her jaw cause you were closing up again.

“Well, it matters to me,” She yanked the tie off your neck.

“Why?” You looked up at her.

“What?”

“Why do you care so much? I thought this was all just for the press?” You pushed off the bed, wobbling on your feet. Jenna took a few steps back but kept close, in case you needed help but you shrugged her attempts away.

She tried not to take it personally.

Jenna called after you but you ignored her and just stumbled to the bathroom. She trails behind, still keeping a close eye.

“No, seriously. You kiss me and let me stay with your family and then you shut me down? What kind of fucked up shit is that?” You spoke up, venom laced in your words.

Jenna knows it’s the alcohol talking. But drunk words, sober thoughts?

“Well guess what? Fuck that. I may be closed off but at least I don’t lead people on.” You seethe, stopping in your tracks to spin around and face her.

The anger in your eyes is not an emotion she had seen before. This was different than your other petty disputes and arguments. You meant it.

Jenna blinked, shaking her head furiously, “What? No! That’s not what I’m doing.”

“I don’t care! I’m over it. If you wanna believe the press over me like everyone else, go ahead. I’m fucking used to it.” You grumbled, turning away to keep walking but this time Jenna grabbed your elbow, stopping you.

“Can you just stop for a second and let me explain!” But you yanked back like you’ve been burned and Jenna thinks she can physically feel her heart splitting down the middle.

“No, fuck that!” You yelled before taking a deep breath, using Jenna's stunned silence as a chance to keep talking. You looked deeply into her eyes and said the next words with pure conviction. ”I’m sick of trusting people and letting them in just to be fucking burned over and over again — After the Met Gala, I’ll go to Jake and Liv and tell them this is over. Next week, it’ll be three months anyway. Then, we’ll never have to see each other again.”

There was no slurring in your voice or wobble in your stance as you said those words.

Jenna blinked back the tears forming in her eyes, clenching her jaw. Not recognizing this version of you standing across from her.

This isn’t the same person that treated her family kindly and won over their hearts.

This isn’t the same person that won over her heart.

So, she listened.

“Okay….” Jenna nodded weakly, then turned walking out of your room not being able to look into your eyes.

She missed the instant regret in them as you tracked her disappearing figure.

***

i told y’all this slow burn would be slowwwww.

***

taglist is closed

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***

#legally binded #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix

1K notes · View notes

bachissidehoe · 11 months ago

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it goes around again - nagi s.

chapter 6 of 7 in the blue lock band series. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 4. chapter 5. chapter 7.

synopsis: nagi seishiro, the fan favorite of the band, doesn't seem to put in any effort at all. especially when it comes to showing up on time for an early morning photoshoot. but when y/n goes to track him down, he has other things in mind besides getting out of bed.

warnings: smut; multiple orgasms; riding; half asleep; semi-coercion; clit stimulation; fem!reader; submissive!reader; minors DNI.

disclaimer: all songs referenced are credited to THE DEEP END

w.c 2.3k

Leading up to the last few shows of the tour, manager Mikage Reo booked plenty of interviews and photoshoots for the up and coming band. The growth they’ve experienced since bringing y/n onto the official team has been substantial, suddenly reaching wider audiences and being featured on multiple news and radio stations, and offered performance showcases on talk shows. As Reo put it, it’s important that they end the tour with the world wanting more of what Blue Lock has to offer, which will put them in a great position to announce a new tour for next year that will reach even more of an audience.

That means that unfortunately, the band is exhausted. They’ll play a show, be expected to attend an afterparty, and then wake up early for an interview before another show. Today is no different, though it is their last long day before the end of the tour. Reo has planned an early promotional photoshoot for them, which means being prepared for transportation hours before the actual appointment.

“Where the hell is Nagi?” Reo barks, trying to make some final checks before the band members’ hair and makeup appointments.

“I haven’t seen him all morning.” Y/n looks around, following Reo with her clipboard.

“I haven’t heard from him since last night.” Isagi chimes in.

“Same.”

“Yeah, me neither.” The other band members agree. After last night’s afterparty, everyone returned to their rooms and fell asleep, including y/n, who can’t even remember if she saw the band’s backup guitarist at the party at all.

“He’s probably still asleep.” Bachira looks over y/n’s shoulder at her pre-shoot checklist.

“You’re probably right.” Reo sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose as if to relieve a headache. Nagi Seishiro can be a handful, sometimes he acts like a little kid with how often his manager has to take care of him. “I’ll have to go fi-”

“Don’t worry Reo, I’ll find him.” Y/n volunteers, figuring Reo could use some extra help in a moment like this. He’s always the one who picks up the pieces of the white-haired boy’s laziness, it’s only fair y/n offers to take some of that off his plate. He seems stressed enough anyway.

“You don’t mind?” He asks.

“Nope, not at all.”

“Everything y/n has left here I should be able to take care of in time.” Bachira offers, taking y/n’s clipboard from her.

“Sounds good y/n. Thanks.” Reo smiles, handing her Nagi’s room key. Even in the most stressful moments he maintains his sweet smiles and kindness. He could convince anyone to like him.

“No problem.” She says, hurrying out of the room and whipping out her phone to check on the hotel room Nagi’s staying in. She’s positive he’s only sleeping, all she has to do is wake him up and force him downstairs.

She knocks on his hotel room door, leaning her ear against the door.

Nothing.

She knocks again- but still nothing.

She sighs, unlocking his door herself and letting herself in.

“Nagi?” She calls for him.

His room is still dark, only a small streak of sunlight peeking in from the gap in the curtains.

“Nagi Seishiro?” She calls again, peeking her head around the corner to see him sleeping soundly under some crumpled covers. He doesn’t seem interested in changing that either.

“Hmmm.” She sighs, walking up to the edge of his bed. “Hey.” She taps him on his blanket-covered shoulder.

“Mmm~” He groans, barely responsive to her attempts to wake him.

“Sei.” She uses his nickname, trying to stress the importance of her arrival in his hotel room.

“Reoooo~” He whines, mistaking y/n for his manager. “C’mere.” He groggily reaches toward her, lazily grabbing her shoulders and pulling her forward.

Surprised, she loses her footing, falling forward into the bed, unable to use her arms to block her fall in time.

“Ugh- Nagi-” She groans. “What’s-”

He wraps his arms completely around her waist, holding her close as he rolls around with her trapped against his chest. Suddenly, y/n finds herself as Nagi Seishiro’s little spoon, with his chin resting on her head and his eyes still closed.

“Nagi?” She questions, trying to wriggle out of his tight grip. “It’s not Reo- it’s y/n-” She says, wondering why he’d be trying to spoon Reo in the first place. He must be having a dream or something.

“Seishiro! You gotta get up!” She says again, louder this time. He has a tight grip, that’s for sure. His muscles tense around her, it’s so clear how toned his body is even just from feeling his chest against her back. At the same time, the way he cuddles her is so soft and sweet, despite her being completely unable to escape.

“Mmmm~ no.” He replies in a tired, raspy voice. Y/n feels her cheeks heat up, but she can’t tell if it’s from frustration or arousal from how pretty his sleepy voice sounds. “Missed you last night, wanna have you now.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/n huffs, blowing a loose strand of hair away from her face. She can’t exactly use her hands to move it herself.

“You can take me now right? Just real quick.” The sleepy guitarist rasps.

“No- what? Nagi? It’s y/n. What do you mean?”

“Hm?” He finally flutters open his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Oh, hi y/n. You’re not Reo huh.”

“Uh, no.” She answers. “Now come on, we gotta go.” She pushes on him again.

“Mmm, can’t right now.” He pulls her tightly against his chest, pressing his crotch into her ass, his morning wood so prominent that she can’t help but feel the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Why not?” She finds herself squeezing her thighs even tighter together, the idea of being this close to Nagi’s hard cock making her start to feel the intensity of the situation. After her situation with Rin, y/n had decided to stop getting in everyone’s pants and focus on her job, so it’s been a good couple months for her. Even though it’s ultimately been better for her focus, she can’t help but find herself easily aroused in a situation like this.

“Didn’t get to fuck Reo last night, so m’horny.” He says casually, too casually.

Y/n can’t even begin to unpack that statement, and she doubts Nagi would be able to explain it to her.

“Look you can fuck Reo later if you want, we got to go.” She says, her voice shaky.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, sleepily rolling over her. He hovers over her, his half lidded eyes shining in the small bit of light that peeks into the room.

His proposition is so normal, as if he just goes around asking anyone to fuck him like it’s the most casual question in the world. But y/n wonders, as she looks into his eyes, her heart completely stopping under his soft yet intense gaze, if that is how Nagi gets so many girls into his bed, and apparently Reo. She doesn’t know if, in her current state, in his current state, it’s even possible to say no to him.

She nods, unable to force her eyes off of his pretty face. He’s known as the fan favorite of the band- he never says too much but the world goes crazy when he does. Any time Nagi has a solo, the crowd is so hype that Isagi wrote a new song, It Goes Around Again, specifically to show off Nagi’s vocal range. In fact, that’s the song they’re supposed to be doing a photoshoot for today, to promo the song and select one to be the cover for the single when it’s officially released. Therefore, it’s absolutely crucial that Nagi’s there.

But in y/n’s horny haze, she can’t be bothered to care anymore. She’s desperate, she needs something, it’s been too long. She can’t believe that out of all the band members, it’s Nagi she hasn’t gotten to. He’s so damn pretty, such a gorgeous boy.

“Nice.” He answers, dipping his head to meet her awaiting lips. His kiss is so soft and sweet, yet desperately dominant at the same time. He slips his tongue between her lips, holding his body over hers as he explores her mouth.

She completely lets him take the lead, still surprised by his advances at all. Her tongue collides against his, creating a layer of glistening wetness on both of their lips, their saliva mixing against their tongues. He pulls her tongue further into his mouth, clasping his lips around the wet muscle.

She can’t help but moan out as he sucks on her tongue, his teeth grazing her taste buds. He moves to her lips again, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth to suck on that next. It’s messy and wet, his saliva coating her lips and chin as he makes his mark on her.

“Wearing a lil skirt. Cute.” He says, reaching one hand under her skirt to locate her panties.

She finds her breath catching in the back of her throat, lifting her hips to let him slide her soaked panties down her legs. He’s not one to engage in much foreplay, not when he’s selfishly concerned with getting himself off since he so sadly missed out on it last night. And right now, y/n doesn’t care at all about how she’s treated. He could fuck her and refuse to get her off for all she cares, something about Nagi Seishiro makes her want to thank him for even considering her worthy of his cock.

He slides his shorts down too, freeing his bothered cock and gripping it in his hand. He doesn’t even give y/n time to look down and see it before he’s forcing it inside her, shoving his thick shaft between her tight wet lips before her body can process the feeling.

“Wow~” He praises. “So wet. Feels nice.” He grunts, warming his cock inside her pretty pussy. He lets it rest in there, feeling her tighten and pulse around him as he bottoms out completely.

He ruts against her, his body falling on top of hers as he lazily stimulates the base of his cock with her hole.

In almost no time, she feels him filling her, surprising her with a thick load buried into her walls.

“Fuck~” He gasps, quickly pulling his cum-soaked cock out of her filled pussy.

Y/n looks at him, confused. It’s not that it’s bad that he came fast or anything, she just didn’t get to prepare for it to be over.

Lucky for her, he’s far from finished with her perfect little hole. He holds his body upward, gripping his soaked cock and pumping it, riding out his high with the overstimulation of his hand.

“Ah, there we go.” He breathes, his cock hardening once again as he immediately stuffs it back into her.

“Nagi- hmhhh-” She groans, feeling full again as his dick becomes fully erect inside her.

“Don’t worry, will put the next load in that pretty mouth.” He breathes, burying his face into her neck, his hot breaths tickling her sensitive skin.

In a swift motion, y/n suddenly finds herself flipped upright, with Nagi flat on his back below her.

“You can ride, yeah?” He asks selfishly, his lazy, sleepy body too tired to continue his light ruts into her.

“Mhm.” She answers, leaning forward as she desperately grinds her clit onto his fully exposed body.

“Let me- you ride.” He demands, reaching to circle two fingers around her clit so she can focus on slamming her hips onto him.

Her legs burn as she rides him, picking her entire body up just to force it back down on his thick shaft over and over, the room filled with her heavy breathing and moans. Nagi expertly swipes his fingers on her clit, letting her grind on them as he brings her closer to her edge.

“Need it- please Sei-” She begs, slowing down her movements so Nagi can focus on getting her off.

“So selfish~” He chuckles, his fingers moving faster on her clit as she begins to tighten around him, the knot in her stomach threatening to burst.

“Mm~ fuck- I- cumming~” Her orgasm finally overwhelms her, her body shaking as she releases over his already cum-soaked cock.

“Pretty.” Nagi hums, holding her hips as he thrusts upward into her tired body, eager to finish himself off as well. “Getting close.”

Y/n can only whine and moan, letting him pound into her repeatedly as he twitches inside her. “Off now.” He instructs, pulling her nearly limp body off his cock.

She allows her head to fall on top of him, just in time for his second thick load of the morning to shoot down her throat. She ensures she swallows it all, not letting a single drop escape.

With a breathless sigh, Nagi pats her lightly on the head. “Thanks for that.” He says casually, as if she did some sort of simple favor for him.

“Um, yeah.” She wipes her mouth, still blushing. “I understand why you get bitches.” She jokes.

“I understand why you’ve been through the entire band.” He fires back, though he doesn’t even mean it as an insult or a snarky comment. He’s so hard to figure out, that Nagi Seishiro.

She can’t help but laugh. “We really have to get to this photoshoot.”

“Sure, but you’ll come back to fuck me again tonight, yeah?” He asks.

She blushes. “Yeah.” She says, looking at the floor.

“You know I can’t sleep when you’re calling my name.” He hums, quoting the song y/n’s been desperately trying to get him to a photoshoot for.

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sbdskate · 11 months ago

Text

Laws Of Attraction (Part 9) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings : fluff and cheese, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3,866

A/N: One day I may be one of those writers who is well organized and has a preplanned schedule for posting, but unfortunately (and as my first fic), today is not that day. Thank you for your patience during this writing drought. Another chapter will be on the way after this, hopefully in a couple of weeks after another round of edits. Shout out to @cutelittlefakejourneys for your help. As always, thank you for reading and don't be a ghost reader!

Daniel Ricciardo had been in your room last night. After a long race day filled with anxiety, media, McLaren, and subsequently relief and pride, he had stolen a bottle of champagne from McLaren’s afterparty, and your heart. He had hesitantly conditioned the gift on being consumed after the signing and delicately suggested you share the bottle, evidently afraid he would tear the fragile string that connected the two of you since the beginning. But you didn’t want to wait, so you had invited him in.

“So that’s how you open a bottle without spilling half of it?”

“What can I say, I’m a woman of many talents. Would you feel more comfortable if I gave you one of my heels to drink out of?” He laughed.

“Nah, not dirty or sweaty enough.”

He looked around to see what you had made of your private space. In contrast to the crisp outward appearance you presented as you strutted through the paddock in your tailored suits, your hotel room was a mess. Laptop open, papers spread out over every surface. Your petite figure was dwarfed by the oversized, plush hotel robe. Behind closed doors he realized you were quite ordinary. Not that you were unremarkable, but in the sense that you were perfectly imperfect.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To finish lines.”

You started out at least trying to be prim and proper, using the hotel’s water glasses as vessels. But at a certain point decorum went out the window and you simply passed the bottle between you sitting cross legged on the floor. Even though it was late, the hours passed like sand through an hourglass.

“Biggest celebrity crush growing up?”

“Leonardo DiCaprio. Easy. Man has been attractive literally at all stages of my life, from the time I was six watching ‘Growing Pains’ to now. Dude aged like fine wine. Unfortunately though I’ve aged out of his dating pool.”

He observed your lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle, how small your hand looked holding it, and his imagination ventured to unclean places.

“You?”

“Josh Allen,” he said without skipping a beat.

“You were five when Josh Allen was born. I know he’s your boyfriend but that doesn’t count.”

“Fine, fine, fine. I might have had a poster of Kylie Minogue in my bedroom when I was like, twelve.”

The two of you sat side by side at the foot of the bed, your hands inched closer towards one another as the night dwelled on.

“If you could do anything in the world, if money didn’t matter, what would you do?”

“Eh. I think I’d still be a lawyer.” He snorted.

“That’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever heard.”

“What? Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Come on. Do you actually love this? You’ve been away from your life in the States for months. And for what?”

“Well, I got to travel the world, meet cool celebrities… I got to know you. That must count for something, right?”

You tried to deliver the earnest statement as casually as possible, hoping he wouldn’t read too much into it. But the heft of your words hung in the air and blended with the little popped champagne bubbles that had evaporated. After months of Daniel tormenting you with flirty comments, it was his turn to try to ignore your flattery.

“Really. Money’s no object. Any job in the world. Go.”

“Ok ok fine. I suppose - Oh I don’t know… Maybe I’d be a food critic. I love to eat, I like to complain, and I like writing, so I feel like that’s the perfect marriage of all those things. Or… maybe I’d just drop off the grid completely. I’ve always dreamed about running off to the rolling hills of Italy and living off the land, maybe I’d open a flower shop or something. Really just live out my Under the Tuscan Sun fantasy. But it’s silly. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, I could never imagine throwing it all away.”

“It’s not silly.”

Your sideways glance met his deep pools of dark ember, filled with sincerity. You took a swig of champagne and passed the bottle back to him, wishing to wash away the palpable chemistry that swirled around you.

“What about you?”

“I guess I’d still be doing this.” You frowned, sensing his timidness.

“That’s not fair, you made me pick something.”

“Come on, it’s not like I have any transferable skills. I don’t know what else I could do.”

“You literally have two side hustles already. Wine maker and fashion mogul don’t do it for you?”

You thought you could crack a smile out of him, but instead the corners of his mouth downturned slightly.

“It’s not the same. We already decided the second time we met I could never have a desk job. I’m an adrenaline junkie, I’ve always needed to be in a car. Plus my parents worked hard to get me here, to get those opportunities for me, and seeing them happy makes me happy. I don’t know what else there is.”

“Your mother has a small heart attack every time you race.” You tried to placate his uncertainty, but the light conversation had turned heavy and there was no undoing it.

“Oh, that’s neither here nor there,” he brushed off.

“What about all the cameras constantly in your face? Don’t you miss being anonymous?”

This seemed to make him pause.

“I do… but at the same time, part of the fun was getting to make a name for myself. I’m not sure I fully knew what I was getting myself into, but I knew that fame came with the territory if I was actually good at what I was doing. Do I miss being able to walk down the street or go to a restaurant without being bombarded? Yeah for sure. But even when I had that, I don’t think I enjoyed it because I was always trying to get to the next step.” He paused, the furrow in his brow coming undone. “Do I love it right now in this very moment? No. I need a fucking break. I think you corporate people call it ‘burnout’ or whatever. But I’ve loved it up until now, and I know I’ll love it again eventually. I really can’t imagine doing anything else.”

The space between your fingers had vanished. As though your extremities had a mind of their own, you both looked down to study how they folded over one another. There was no recoiling. Your hand, that apparently had its own free will, sent signals to you to look up again. It was ironic that you had partially declined his invitation to the McLaren afterparty because you were afraid of winding up in a situation that vaguely resembled something exactly like this. Tomorrow was so close yet so far, and your wherewithal to resist the magnetic pull between the two of you was at an all time low. Over the last week leading up to the final race, flashbacks of the kiss in Brazil replayed on a loop in your mind. If you blinked you would’ve missed it when it had happened in real time. But the memory teased you and champagne was buzzing through your veins, clouding your judgment. You wanted to explore. Like a moth to a flame, you began leaning in, your eyes fluttering as his lips went in and out of focus.

Instead of being met with Daniel’s embrace, you toppled over as he got to his feet.

“Champagne’s gone, guess that’s my cue for bed.”

You propped yourself on your elbow as you looked up at him incredulously. How much champagne had you had, that you had so badly misread the situation? You averted your gaze in embarrassment.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

His extended hand came into view. You slowly looked up again, his warm and inviting eyes conveying more than words ever could. You cautiously accepted his help as he got you to your feet, his strong hold steadying you.

“Do you need any help in the morning?” Yeah, just avoid Daniel until it’s over so you don’t lose your job. That would probably be a good start.

“No, I’m good, thanks though. Do you need any help?”He laughed, mostly out of astonishment that you could possibly ask such a question when you had already done so, so much.

“Yeah, if you could just sign for me too that would be great.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm. “Get some rest, yeah?”

And then he was gone. But how could you possibly just get some rest? You tossed and turned, never quite falling into a deep slumber. The scene of two friends on the floor sharing champagne and secrets played over and over. Friends? Colleagues? Business partners? Something else?

It festered as you got ready, before even the sun was up. The tried and true pink suit felt like it might burst at the seams, unable to contain the palpitations in your chest - a concoction of anticipation, nerves, anxiety, and excitement.

It was strange, having such a momentous deal take place outside the confines of a grandiose conference room with a dramatic, long, mahogany table overlooking some city skyline and perhaps a beautiful, shiny body of water. It was a status symbol of Big Law, the firm’s ability to peacock to clients how successful they were. The bigger the room and better the view, the more deserving they were of that outrageously high retainer fee they charged.

Instead, you walked into what was left of Red Bull hospitality after the big, final race weekend. Of course it was sleek and modern in its own right, but it gave an air of approachability that was lacking at the firm’s office. Nonetheless, you tried to import formality back into the space. You had printed and made matching binders of copies of the agreement for everyone present, appropriately tabbed and color coordinated. You brought blue, black, and red pens, highlighters, sharpened No. 2 pencils, and legal pads with the firm’s name emboldened at the top. You had gotten to Red Bull early to set up the space yourself, so that all materials were spaced out accordingly for each chair at the table. You took a step back to admire your handy work. Yes, this would do just fine.

Your phone went off.

DR: Where are you? We’re going to be late.

Y/N: I’m already here.

DR: 🙁

DR: You didn’t wait for me?

DR: It’s going to be weird walking there without you.

Y/N: I figured you wouldn’t want to be over an hour early and you could use the extra sleep. I’m sure you’ll manage.

It was weird for Daniel walking to the paddock without you. The whole morning had been weird. It had been too quiet. There was no offkey musical number through his bathroom wall. He missed the sprightly knock at his door that came about ten minutes too early. He missed guessing which of your faces he’d get when you realized he wasn’t ready. He was amazed at how quickly he had gotten used to you. Had they really only been at this hotel for four days? Five?

His memory taunted him as he walked to Red Bull. He recalled himself holding his breath in anticipation as you closed in on him last night. He felt his heartbeat all the way up to his throat, his pulse points throbbed. It was an out of body experience, watching in slow motion as he pulled himself away from you. He finally learned it was for the best, even though the dejected look on your face pained him.

When he got there, he was disappointed to discover he was the last to arrive, wishing he had more moments alone with you. Christian, Joe, and in-house Red Bull lawyer bros sat around you, centering you as a vibrant glow in a sea of dull blues and grays. He was relieved to discover that you had reserved the seat next to you. He felt his face involuntarily break into grin as he noticed you notice him come into frame.

Christian, who was sitting across from you with his back to the door, saw the slightest twitch of your facial muscles. He whipped around, before a smile was fully formed, knowing exactly what it meant.

“The man of the hour! So nice of you to finally join us.” Everyone stood up for another round of hand shakes and self-congratulatory pats on the back. He could hardly maintain eye contact, his gaze constantly darting back to you. You rose to your feet, but remained in place, patiently waiting your turn for him.

He finally stood in front of his reserved chair, directly facing you. He wasn’t sure what to do – he knew you so well, a handshake hardly seemed appropriate. But you were in front of professionals so a hug wouldn’t do. He knew what he wanted to do, and that certainly wasn’t an option. Fortunately you made the decision for him, instinctively sticking your hand out. He would’ve been a little sad about it, but for the knowing twinkle in your eye. Your palms firmly met, and he appreciated how soft and delicate yours were. It was like you were holding hands.

“Eh-hem.”

You cleared your throat, eyes suddenly piercing. It wasn’t until he felt you try to pry your hand away that he realized he had been shaking it about six seconds too long. He finally relinquished his grip and you both sat down.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he whispered to you. You only gave him a twitch of a smile and a curt nod in return before swiveling your chair to face the other side of the table.

“Now then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Daniel almost felt silly for pushing this whole ordeal back an extra day. Almost. He could imagine you marching out of there muttering this could have been an email under your breath. The contract was, for all intents and purposes, finished and truly just needed to be signed. It only took twenty minutes to do a walk through of the terms, which of course no one objected to after the countless back-and-forth’s of redlines, late night phone calls, and negotiations. And then, with a swift flick of his wrist, it was set in stone.

He stared at the wet blue ink on the page. He didn’t realize he was smiling until his cheeks started to hurt.

“I guess we’re engaged now. This feels familiar.” When he finally looked up Christian was beaming back at him like a proud dad.

“Welcome back, Daniel. Welcome home.”

“You do realize that could’ve been an email?” He laughed as he waited behind for you to pack up your stuff. Joe in typical fashion had exchanged quick pleasantries after the signing and was gone in a flash, off to the next client. The other Red Bull representatives followed suit not long after.

“It could’ve, but where’s the fun in that?” He watched as you stuffed the last binder into your bag, fighting with the zipper. When you finished you looked up to find him staring intently at you, causing you to nearly drop your bag.

“Can I help you?”

He leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. You stared at his tan forearms, noticing his veins bulge.

“That depends… do you like surprises?” You did your best to hide a gulp, your throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating what you thought…

But if he was, two could play at that game.

“Depends on the surprise,” you purred, leaning forward ever so slightly to show off the v of your necklace that led a trail to your hidden cleavage.

He leaned forward to meet you part way, not breaking eye contact.

“I think you’ll like this one,” he whispered. You felt goosebumps raise on your skin, giddy in suspense. Your heart was about to burst through your chest. Was he really about to take you right here in this office?

Without warning he pushed himself from the table and walked quickly towards the door, leaving you bewildered in the middle of the room. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at you innocently.

“What are you waiting for? Follow me!”

He proceeded to skip down the hallway, forcing you to jog to try to keep up with him.

“Daniel! Wait up! What the hell?”

He led you to the exit of Red Bull hospitality before he finally stopped.

“I may or may not have called in a favor.”

“Daniel, this isn’t funny. What –“

You stopped in your tracks as the doors opened. With your jaw on the floor, you let out a silent scream as Geraldine Estelle Halliwell Horner, aka Geri, aka Ginger Spice, aka one-fifth of the iconic girl group The Spice Girls, stood in front of you in the flesh. As a child of the 90’s, this moment felt biblical.

Apparently Christian was also there. “Oh Darling, I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

You were already barely functioning when she turned away from her husband and made direct eye contact with you. Then, as though it were a conversation about the weather, she very casually said “Oh hello. You must be y/n, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your hand gripped over your chest. Eyes wide, you looked to Daniel to confirm she was not a hologram, but he only gave you a wide grin, then back to Geri who was waiting patiently for you to act like a human which was unfortunately too big of an ask.

“I-you’re-ohmygodIcan’tbelievethisishappening-I-hi-I mean…. You know my name.” You dissolved into fits of nervous giggles. Daniel stood there very pleased with himself. He was a little insulted you weren’t this starstruck when you met him, but it was overshadowed by the immense satisfaction he felt that he initiated something that made you so happy.

Geri gave a sympathetic smile. Clearly this was not the first time a fan lost their shit at her mere presence. “I do. I hear you’ve been very busy the last few weeks.”

“What? Oh, right. Yeah I’ve spent a lot of time with Daniel and your husband.” you blabbed, quickly changing the topic. “Do you and the girls still hang out regularly? Spice World was my favorite movie growing up, and-and-and I memorized all of the choreography to Stop and Spice Up Your Life.” You continued talking a million miles a minute.

“Well that’s good to know in case we ever need a fill-in,” she joked trying to put you at ease. Your demeanor quickly sobered and you put a hand over your heart.

“Oh, Miss Halliwell. I could never replace Victoria on your next reunion tour, but if you absolutely insist I would be honored to step in to ensure the show goes on,” you swore in earnest. Geri slowly nodded, locking eyes with Daniel behind you doing her best to telecommunicate with him. What the fuck. He only shrugged as he continued beaming.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said slowly and politely. Daniel finally interjected.

“Y/n, you have to pack and I’m sure Geri and Christian have their own flights to catch…”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,” you said, Daniel’s voice beginning to bring you back down to earth. You rummaged through your bag, before proudly presenting your hand to her. “Here’s my card in case you or any of the girls need any type of legal assistance, happy to go over any contracts for you or whatever else you may need.” Geri’s forced smile relaxed, appreciating your hustle and intellect.

“This is great, thank you. Girl power, right?” And just like that you were back on Saturn. You proudly held up a peace sign as though you were giving an oath.

“Girl Power. Forever,” you swore. Daniel gently put his hand on your lower back to try and herd you along, but you turned to look back as you walked. “And now that you have my number, let me know if you ever want to get your nails done together or get coffee or even a yoga class!” you called after her. Geri chuckled and waved.

“It was nice meeting you too,” she shouted back.

“Good seeing you too y/n – what am I, chopped liver?” You kept walking and waved him off.

“Oh right, sorry. Yeah yeah, nice seeing you too Christian. Pleasure doing business.”

You proceeded to gush about the encounter the entire way back to the hotel. Your hands flailed in the air as you excitedly repeated every little detail, even though Daniel had also been there to witness the whole thing. Your eyes were bright and wide, still processing the adrenaline.

“So did I do alright then?” he asked cheekily as you approached your rooms.

“Did you do alright?! That was one of the best moments of my life, I could kiss you!”

The words slipped out before you had a chance to think, stopping both of you in your tracks. They hung heavy in the air, waiting for an answer. But for the tension that had dragged on, and built, and compounded on itself for months, the statement would never be interpreted as anything other than an innocent, facetious comment for dramatic effect. But Daniel looked at you intently hoping you meant it. He turned his body to align with yours as you remained frozen, and cautiously stepped forward to remove the space between you. Your mouth parted slightly, trying to find words to explain yourself but drew a blank. He leaned in ever so slightly, his hot breath beating on the side of your face and tickling your ear.

“So do it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear him. You dared to lock eyes with him, searching for an answer. His hand finally did what it had wished to do for so long, gently pushing hair out of your face and finding a home at the nape of your neck. He left it there, but he didn’t have to use any force to bring you together as your heads naturally tilted and pulled inwards like magnets. It was dizzying having his face so close to yours, feeling his breath tickle your nose and your cheeks, stoking the flush that had your face burning.

It was only when your lips were so close that you inhaled each other’s oxygen that you suddenly remembered you were in a very public hallway. You were still in your suit, that felt like it was about suffocate you. To his disappointment, and yours, you fell into old patterns. You pried yourself out of his orbit, stumbling backwards.

“Would you look at the time? I, um, need to go pack. Long flight tomorrow,” you stammered, as you continued backwards towards your room.

“y/n…”

“Congratulations again, I’m super happy for you.”

“Can we at least talk about this?” You fumbled with your keys pretending not to hear him, your focus on the floor.

“It was great working with you. You have a bright future back at Red Bull, I’m sure everything will work out. Have a safe trip back to Perth.”

And with that final, clinical, arms-length message, you left him in the hallway.

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kkanabel · 4 months ago

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caffeine addiction - chapter 7 Bakugou Katsuki x Reader / Coffee Shop! AU

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~2.3k

The photo you took with Bakugou was admired, to say the least.

After going home from the show and taking a long bath to wash the day off, you noticed that your aunt invited you to a group chat containing the two of you and the Bakugou family.

You were in your bedroom, sitting in a fetal position on your bed with your hair wet. You were in your twelve-year-old t-shirt that was four sizes too big for you. It had so many holes in it that if you wore it outside, people would believe you were a rat that was scurrying about on the streets. But you loved it. And you were damn adamant about never getting rid of it.

Taking a piece of your hair, you brought it to your nose and breathed in the scent of your shampoo and conditioner before sighing in delight. This was the best part about washing your hair. Even though you may look like some version of a wet mop, you smelled so good. This is great. You loved the time after a show. Your entire body would be tired and aching afterward (especially your feet after wearing heels), but the afterglow of going to one was always the best.

The slight soreness was somewhat satisfying, and you’d be able to go back through your photos and relive the entire show again through your photos as you listened to the barely-there noises of cars driving past your window and the occasional hoot of an owl.

The group chat was then flooded with the photos of you two. There was a particular photo they focused most on, though– the one with Bakugou glancing down at your lips as you beamed up at him. You couldn’t lie. It was a beautiful photo. The outfits you two wore were well-coordinated, but it was overshadowed by the sheer chemistry emanating from the two of you.

Your hands were placed delicately on his chest whilst his hands rested on your lower back and underneath your chin, angling your face up to his. There was a ghost of a smile left on Bakugou’s face while he was glancing at your smile.

You let out an audible “woah” and left a heart message next to that particular photo. You were proud! It truly looked like the two of you were a couple, and the clothes were definitely a highlight of the photo altogether. The photographer did a great job! You didn’t know how the photographer/editor was able to make it look so much like Katsuki was going to kiss you, but you weren’t complaining! It looked great!

The actual moment you were taking that photo didn’t feel anything like what the mood from the photo emanates. That amazed you. The photographer was truly talented.

And then the bribery started.

Before the afterparty ended, Mistuki and Masaru were holding a conversation with you and your aunt about the clothing. You mentioned how you really wanted some of the pieces from the runway, and you were probably going to desperately search the web for anything similar.

Usually, pieces straight from the runway aren’t the same ones sold at stores. When looking at luxury brands’ stores, they normally have a refined version of the things they sell at stores. The point of fashion shows are to market the brand and to make a statement (whether it be about society, politics, or whatever else). Of course, it depends on the brand, but Masaki is a brand that uses its fashion shows as more of an art exhibition than anything. You, however, have a tendency to actually want the pieces directly from the runway.

After you wore them for the photos, you just wanted them more. So, this was a way for you to ask the original designers if you could purchase their pieces in a… sly way.

You didn’t expect it, but Masaru offered to give an outfit to you for free. You were especially surprised since you were willing to pay thousands for it! They said it was a gift for their old friend’s niece. You were ecstatic!

Mitsuki, however, being the opportunist she is, decided that they’d give an outfit to you for a favor or two. And you, being the clothing addict, agreed to “anything!”

This is how she was able to coax you into getting your permission for posting this photo to their official Instagram.

It’s unknown how she was able to convince her son for his permission, but it was likely something ten times more sneaky. To you, it was a small price to pay for these clothes you likely would have sold a kidney for. After all, it was Masaki! Straight from the runway! Masaru even personally tailored it to exactly your size! This was a chance that only a couple people in the world could receive. You were fine with it.

In fact, you were glad that you had to just show your face to a small fraction of the public. It’s fine! It’s a great deal, in fact! What you didn’t expect was for this photo to turn the viewing for a small fraction of the public into one of a big fraction.

Either way, this didn’t become an issue until a bit later.

Bakugou Katsuki was back to his daily routine. His attention was a little more split, however. The joint group chat between the owners of Masaki and Kindeki was blowing up at almost all times of the day. The designers of the brands had jumped straight into drafting up ideas as soon as possible, and it was headache-inducing.

Bakugou was tired of his phone stuttering out notifications as if it were a bumbling high schooler trying to do a presentation. Thus, during his time at the café, his eyebrows were constantly furrowed into an expression of sheer irritation as he felt his phone vibrate against him in his pocket every couple of seconds. “Why can’t those damn geezers just talk about this in real life!?” he thought, opening his phone for the nth time to check up on what they’d been talking about.

His mom and your aunt were talking about the Ham and Swiss Croissants from Starbucks. This was the last straw. He turned off the notifications for the group chat altogether, finally getting a break from the incessant vibrating of his phone. From across the counter, Ashido looked at him with concern.

“Hey, you good? You’ve been staring at your phone all day like you did in high school whenever Midoriya got a better grade than you on a test.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth and bared them at the girl for her remark, but answered nonetheless. “My mom and her friend from college keep bitching about croissants in a group chat we’re using to discuss details for a brand collaboration.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of it. He was going crazy. Why couldn’t they just use their own chat? Why the hell are they talking about croissants!?

He was leaning his hands against the back counter that held his expensive espresso machine. His “baby”, as his employees would call it. He leaned a little too far back and burned the back of his arm on one of the metal attachments to the machine which was still dripping with boiled water. As he hissed from the pain, he started whispering a scary amount of curses under his breath.

Then, the door rang.

Instead of you coming back into the café, this one little dipshit is starting to come in instead. Some people were moving into the empty space next door to his café. They were setting up a boutique or some stupid shit, and this guy was one of their people. He kept ordering the same shit you’d always order. A peach lemonade and some version of an extremely caffeinated drink, and some other shit. This time, the guy came in with a Starbucks bag with something in there that smelled suspiciously like those stupid fucking croissant sandwiches.

Bakugou forced a smile on his face as he was handing the man his order. He could feel his face twitching with poorly concealed anger, so it just made the man squeak and rush out of the place as soon as he could. Ashido chuckled at him from the cashier, watching as Bakugou quickly reverted his face back into one with a deep grimace. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be working as the cashier at all today. He’d scare them all off, and he’s already intimidating enough as he is.

As of this point, Ashido was getting concerned. She could see a vein popping up on his neck from clenching his teeth and fist so hard. He looked a little constipated, to be honest, but she kept these words to herself for fear that she may end up causing that vein on his neck to pop in sheer rage.

She genuinely hadn’t seen him this angry in years, and she was wondering how high his blood pressure must have been. After knowing him for so many years, she was sure that the croissant conversation wasn’t the only thing that was getting on his nerves so much. It couldn’t have been. Normally, when the part-time workers at his café would start having personal conversations in the employee group chat, he’d just calmly ask them to bring the conversation to another place.

That was a similar scenario to what he described. Two people he knew quite well using a professional group chat for personal discussions– it was basically the same situation.

There had to be a certain trigger that was making him more irritated than usual. She saw how Bakugou reacted to the man that just left the café, and she couldn’t help but think that he was connected to all of this. Hmm, he was carrying a Starbucks bag, though. Maybe that’s why he was angry? Because he brought a bag with the logo of a massive coffee corporation into his café? But no, the man was clearly buying the drinks from his café, which basically cemented the fact that his drinks were better. Bakugou would normally be proud of that.

Ashido kept thinking to deduce the reason behind his actions. Playing detective for the source of Bakugou’s emotions is one of her favorite hobbies. Especially when the café isn’t busy.

Maybe it’s because the bag smelled a little bit like croissant sandwiches? There has to be another reason other than the croissants. There’s no way he’d get that angry just because of a reminder of some pastries.

Ashido was hyper aware of his actions during her exchange with the customer, however. Partially because she was worried and mostly because she was curious.

Before Bakugou could even take a glance at the bag in his hands, she noticed him clench up when he asked for “an americano and a peach lemonade– both large.” She could have sworn that Bakugou also let in a sharp breath when the customer said that.

What’s wrong with buying an americano and a peach lemonade? Tons of people ordered those. Maybe it’s the combination of the two? She thought. “But (Y/N)-san orders these and he’s never angry at-” her jaw dropped and she immediately clasped a hand over her mouth.

She had reached an epiphany. "It’s definitely because she hasn’t been visiting the café as often!"

Is that why he was so pissy?

Was it because he wanted to see you?

Ashido told Bakugou he should go on a break so that she could process this information while he went to calm down. She’ll tease him about it after his blood pressure goes down. He’s also been clenching his teeth so hard that his teeth will start falling out if he doesn't cool off somehow.

As she washed her hands (because she touched her mouth earlier), she had a terrifying cheshire cat smile on her expression. From afar, a customer saw her and squeaked a little.

It was his break, but he couldn’t fucking relax. Maybe he should just leave the café to Ashido for the rest of the day to cool off at the gym. But no, he couldn’t. He had to finish the day, or else it would damage his gold, coffee mug-shaped pride.

He has to, even if he’s starting to sweat from how much sheer anger he feels. His head and jaw ache from being clenched for so long, and he thinks his palms might bleed if he digs his fingernails into them any longer. He desperately needed this break.

He was very a little irked at the fact that he hadn’t seen you stop by his café ever since the show. You were a regular at his café, so why hadn’t he seen you since?

Was it because he scared you off because of the way he looked at you in the photo?

It sent his mind spiraling. "Of course she wouldn’t show up again. It’d be fucking awkward. She probably thinks you’re a disgusting pervert because of the way you looked at her. Fuck, you barely know her. She definitely thinks you’re disgusting because of that.”

As of this point, he was standing in the employee bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror again. He looked at the wall desperately, wanting to punch it with all his might. But if he did that, he’d probably break his wrist again. Not a good idea to punch a concrete wall like that one time. “Calm down,”he thought, using breathing techniques that his old therapist taught him.

He hasn’t felt this angry in years– ever since Midoriya got a higher grade than him on that government test in his senior year of high school.

So, he went back to the counter of his café, making himself one of those hot chocolates that you helped him develop a little while back.

Before he got back to work, he went to the back and did some push-ups in the pantry while thinking of you. He’s going insane. Again.

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #reader insert #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #coffee shop au #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #fluff

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skyeslittlecorner · 11 months ago

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WHB Masterlist

Minors DNI. There may be fics or theories with graphic descriptions of violence, suggestions of death, self-harm and other drastic topics. After all, WHB is a game for adults, and I have no intention of trying to sugarcoat it.

For those who doesn't like character x character, please block this tag: whb!cxc

Updated: 17.03.2024

Gehenna

Duty of a right hand man | Sitri

Orphan from Hades, outcast from Gehenna | Sitri, analysis

Taste of your own medicine | Satan

Tails for All! - Gehenna edition | All

Burnt hair | Satan x Sitri

Everyone did. | Satan (?) and Solomon, analysis

💖 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Tartaros

Tails for All! - Tartaros edition | All

💛 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2

Hades

The young noble | Foras, analysis

Afterparty | Foras, request

Hate to love you | Leviathan, request

Kidnapped to sleep | Leviathan, request

Ball at Hades | All, request

Chains of love | All

Tails for All! - Hades edition | All

💜 Headcanons & requests: 1

Avisos

Duty of a right hand man | Bael

Eyes on me | Bael

Avisos Royal Couple | Bael x Beel

New family member | All

Tails for All! - Avisos edition | All

💚 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2

Paradise Lost

Piercing | Morax, request

Tails for All! - Paradise Lost edition | All

Abaddon

Tails for All! - Abaddon edition | All

Asmodeus brainrot | Asmodeus, analysis

Niflheim

On the other side | Andrealphus

Promised Land | Andrealphus

Point to point | Andrealphus

Love is blind | Andrealphus

Horns Cleaning Manual | Andrealphus

Blade for you, needle for me | All

Belphegor brainrot | Belphegor, analysis

Tails for All! - Nilfheim edition | All

💙 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Other/mixed

The height of WHB demons | Analysis

Time difference between Hell and Earth | Analysis

Summary of chapter 5 | Analysis

Tails for All! - Kings edition | Kings + Lucifer

Reminiscent of old times | Young Kings, Gusion

Caressing | Bael, Sitri, Foras (and others)

WHB Most Babygirl Pools | Andrealphus, Eligos, Leviathan, Paimon

🧡 Kids propaganda! | Mini series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

🧡 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

🧡 My MC

WHB MC Shuffle

🧡 Rules

🧡 Draw list

🧡Fics - coming soon!

#whb #what in hell is bad #masterlist #skye's little talk

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ktwritesstuff · 2 years ago

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The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 2

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~3,500 Summary: Outbreak day and adventures in babysitting. Lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut

Content Notes & Warnings: Man, oh, man, the Last of Us girlies are thirsty! This part follows the game/show fairly closely so there shouldn't be too many surprises. Just to forewarn you, this chapter includes a teenager fantasizing about a grown ass man (explicit, but short,) canon violence, & character death.

Austin 2003

You usually didn’t get into the school spirit, especially when it came to football. You played in the marching band at halftime, but weren’t usually invited to the afterparties. It was your senior year and the Bulldogs were headed to the playoffs for the first time in over a decade. So when your best friend invited you to a celebratory bonfire after the game, you figured it was probably the last chance you had to make fond memories of the place.

You drank a few beers while Cheryl and her boyfriend made out on the blanket next to you and listened to Mike Zurowski try to give an inspiring speech about how they would dominate the state championship. But after the first string running back took off his pants and streaked across the highway you decided you’d better leave before someone called the cops. You were just heading out when your phone rang. It was Joel Miller. You felt butterflies in your chest, wondering why he would call you so late.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sweetpea, It’s Joel. I didn’t wake you, did I?” he sounded tired.

“No,” you said. “We were out celebrating the big game. I was just heading home. What’s up?”

“Listen, I’m sorry to call so late,” he explained. “I’ve got to go see Tommy–is there any chance you could come keep an eye on Sarah? She’s already in bed, I just don’t want her waking up in an empty house.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. Of course it was for Sarah, it was the only thing that made any sense.

“Give me about 10 minutes. I’ll have Andy and Cheryl to drop me off.”

“You’re an angel,” Joel sighed.

“I’ll see you soon.”

The short drive was surprisingly harrowing; you nearly got pancaked by a fleet of firetrucks and emergency vehicles. You guessed some folks had partied a little too hard.

Joel already had his keys in hand as Andy dropped you at the curb. Thankfully, he seemed to be in too much of a hurry to notice you still reeked of Lone Star beer, despite the mints Andy kept stashed in his glove compartment.

“Thanks again,” Joel said, meeting you at the door. “Be sure to lock up behind me. Make yourself at home; help yourself to anything in the fridge. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Joel,” you said. “Drive safe; I think the drunks are out.”

You went to the kitchen and checked the fridge. You contemplated helping yourself to another beer, but decided against it. The Millers didn’t drink soda, but they always kept a few cans of Diet Coke on hand for you. You took a seat on the couch and turned on the television.

About half an hour into reruns of Dawson’s Creek, a car alarm started going off. You ignored it at first, but it just kept going. Finally you switched off the television and turned to peer through the blinds onto the street.

“What the hell is going on out there?” You murmured to yourself; finally the alarm went silent.

You climbed the stairs in the darkened house to check on Sarah, cracking her door open just enough to find her sleeping soundly in the bed. You closed the door softly. Your gaze drifted down the hall, lingering on the door to Joel’s room. A little voice in the back of your mind told you to turn around and go back downstairs, but he had told you to make yourself at home.

You tiptoed down the hall and put your hand on the knob, turning it slowly. The door creaked on its hinges as you pushed it open. You froze, listening intently, but all you could hear was a neighbor’s dog barking in the distance. Your heart was pounding as you stepped into the room.

There was an exercise bike in the corner, a full laundry basket with used towels and worn clothes spilling on the floor. You had never been in a man’s room before. Even at home, your mother devoted considerable effort to cleaning up after your father and brother. You noticed a framed picture of Sarah on the cluttered dresser along with an oscillating fan and radio. The bed was unmade, a striped quilt and dark sheets looking comfortably rumpled and inviting. You took a seat on the bed, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. Against your better judgment, you laid down.

The bed smelled faintly of sweat and old spice. You closed your eyes and rolled over, pressing your face into one of the pillows. You liked the idea of sharing Joel’s bed. Not now, but in a few years. You’d be 22 when Sarah graduated from high school, Joel would still be in his early 40s. That wasn’t so unthinkable, was it?

A weight settled onto the bed beside you, warm and firm. A soft whisper of a moan by your ear. Your right hand followed the path of his as it snaked over your waist and between your legs. You reached behind you with your left, fingers twisting in thick curls. His breath was warm and his beard tickled the delicate skin of your neck as he kissed you. You felt safe. You felt peaceful. You felt loved.

You leaned into him as his mouth traveled across your shoulder and down to the top of your breast. You opened your legs so he could slip inside you, fingers stroking through your hot folds up and down and up and down as hips rocked into you. You felt a knot tightening in your belly. You wanted to feel him there. You pressed back into him. Your toes curled. You were so close; you were already so full of him, but you needed more. Just a little more.

You jolted out of sleep at the sound of the front door opening. Your face felt hot and flushed with sleep with one hand stuffed down the front of your jeans–how embarrassing. You pushed yourself up and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was after 2 in the morning. You had no idea what had kept Joel out so late, but you did not want him catching you in his bed with your hand down your pants. You jumped up, re-ruffling the sheets as quickly and quietly as you could before slipping out of the bedroom.

In the hall, Sarah’s bedroom door was open and her bed was empty. From the top of the stairs you could see the front door had been left hanging open as well.

“Shit,” you gasped, pounding down the stairs. “Fuck! Shit. Sarah! Sarah!”

You spotted her in the neighbor’s yard, dragging their dog toward the house by the collar. It was fighting her hard, like it didn’t want to go.

“Sarah!” you screamed. Your heart pounded as you ran to her. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The dog finally managed to slip its collar and took off down the street.

“Mercy!” Sarah yelled, lunging after the dog. “Mercy got out.”

You grabbed Sarah by the arm, harder than you intended. As you stood there on the dark street, there was a deafening roar. You looked up to see a plane flying low, too low. A wave of icy dread washed over you.

“Leave it! Get back in the house!” you yelled, pushing her in front of you as you rushed back to the house. “Now!”

Once you were inside and had locked the door, you took a breath. Sarah rubbed her arm with a frown. You felt terrible, realizing you had really scared her.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to yell. I just got scared.”

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked. “Where’s my dad?”

“He had to see your Uncle Tommy,” you explained. “He didn’t tell me why, but he asked me to come keep an eye on you.”

Sarah went to the living room and grabbed the remote from the coffee table to flip on the television. The station that had been playing reruns earlier was now nothing but static. She began to scroll through the channels, still nothing.

You screamed at the sound of a key scraping in the lock and threw your arms around Sarah. The front door swung open, Joel and Tommy were on the other side.

“Jesus, you girls alright?” Joel asked.

“We’re fine,” Sarah sighed in relief. “You just startled us.”

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“There’s been an accident,” Joel said, breathlessly, pushing Sarah up the stairs. “Tommy’s going to take you home. Sarah, go get your backpack, come on.”

You remembered the morning of September 11th–sitting in the auditorium as the kids with parents at Camp Mambry got called out of the room–all the teachers would say was there had been an accident, a plane crash.

You watched with increasing anxiety as Joel disappeared up the stairs with Sarah. No more discussion.

“Come on,” Tommy said, ushering you out of the house. “We gotta go.”

You had met Tommy only a few times, but you knew him by reputation. He had served in the Gulf War and spent over a year in Afghanistan before an honorable discharge. Given that he was such a hothead, you sometimes wondered about the honorable part.

“What’s really going on?” you asked, as he climbed into the cab of the truck beside you.

“I don’t know,” he said, starting the engine and peeling out of the driveway fast enough that you grabbed on to what your mother referred to as the ‘Oh, Shit’ handle above the door. Somehow that answer managed to scare you even more.

“Are we going to be okay?” you asked.

“You just get inside and lock your doors,” he instructed.

You thought you heard a scream and turned to look out the rear windshield, straining your eyes in the darkness, but there was nothing.

“You got a basement?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah.” You met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Get in it,” he instructed. “You grab whatever food and water you’ve got. Take your family down there and seal up the windows and doors, you hear me?”

You nodded. You were shaking. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you wiped them away with the cuffs of your sleeves. You felt like you were going to be sick. Tommy’s driving didn’t help; he took the turn down your street hard enough to slam your body into the passenger side door.

“If they don’t listen to you, you make them listen,” Tommy warned. “Or leave them.”

You nodded. Tommy pulled into your driveway, slamming on the breaks just shy of running into the back of Paul’s Jeep.

“Get your keys out now,” Tommy instructed, he flipped on the overhead light as you fumbled through your purse with shaking hands. “Get inside, quick.”

You sprinted up the stone path and steps to the door. The porch light was off and you scrambled to get the key in the lock. After a few seconds the door finally swung open and you glanced over your shoulder to see that Tommy was still parked in the drive.

As you turned back, you realized Paul was standing in the hallway, but he didn’t look right–his head cocked to one side as he watched you. There was something in his mouth. He was covered in blood. It coated his arms and dripped from his chin, staining the white and gold of his football jersey.

You screamed. Paul ran at you, slamming into you like a freight train. You threw your arms in front of your face as he snapped at you like an animal, grabbing for your throat. You screamed again, trying to fight him off–he grabbed your breasts with both hands, like he wanted to tear them from your body. You knew you were going to die; you kept fighting anyway.

There was a deafening bang…

The next thing you were aware of, you were in the bed of Tommy’s truck. It was dark except for the headlight beams stretching out across a deserted cotton field.

“She ain’t family. Doesn’t mean she’s sick; I’m just saying we don’t know.”

You blinked, willing your eyes to focus. Tommy and Joel were standing at the tailgate speaking in hushed tones. Tommy had his rifle in his hands, not aiming it, but still too close for comfort.

“I know,” Joel said. “But she goes to school with Sarah–been with her all night. If she’s sick…”

“Sarah,” you started to panic, trying to push yourself up. Everything hurt; your arms felt like jello. “Where’s Sarah?”

“Daddy,” a soft voice called from inside the cab of the truck.

“You stay in the truck, baby,” Joel yelled. “Don’t come out here.”

You smelled metallic, copper penny. You were covered in blood. Whose was it? Your momma’s? Daddy’s? Paul? Your chest hurt from where he had grabbed you. He was so strong. How had you gotten away? Your eyes drifted back to Tommy’s gun.

“Do it,” you said.

Joel and Tommy both froze, realizing for the first time that you had been listening. That you understood they were debating what to do with you. Paul had tried to kill you; Tommy had killed Paul. Your parents, you realized, were almost certainly dead. And whatever happened to them, that was making people go crazy and hurt one another, would happen to you, too.

“Do it,” you repeated. You didn’t want to die, but if you were going to hurt someone, maybe even Sarah.

“Please. I’d do it myself, but I’m scared.”

“Shit,” Joel sighed, lowering the tailgate of the truck. “C’mere, Sweetpea. Come here, let me take a look at you. You’re gonna be alright.”

You inched forward on hands and knees. Joel ran his hands over your arms, your face, your neck, you weren’t sure what he was looking for. He took an extra moment, adjusting the collar of your shirt to examine the bruises blooming across your chest, probing them with his fingertips. You realized it was the first time he had touched you, not rough, but insistent, hurried.

“Open your mouth,” Tommy instructed, shining a flashlight into your face, still holding his rifle in the other hand.

You blinked against the bright light, opening your mouth.

“If she’s got it,” Tommy concluded. “She doesn’t look like the others.”

“You stay down and hang on,” Joel instructed, slamming the tailgate closed; he and Tommy got back in the truck. “We’ll head north and cut across toward Barton Creek.”

The road back into town was rough, but once you were back on the main drag things got a lot worse. Most folks were running and screaming–others had gone violent, feral, grabbing on to whoever they could reach and tearing them apart.

You were terrified that one of them might jump into the bed of the truck. You grabbed onto the handle of the big toolbox and hunkered down as best you could, squeezing your eyes closed while Tommy struggled to navigate through the chaos.

By some stroke of luck, you were thrown clear of the wreckage when the truck turned over. You must have had a concussion–you lost consciousness for a moment–your head was screaming but you were alive and as Tommy hauled you up by the collar of your shirt, you were able to get your feet under you and stand.

“Come on, girl,” he said with surprising tenderness. “You got this.”

Your vision cleared; Joel was digging Sarah out of the wreckage of the truck. Her ankle had been pinned, probably broken, and wouldn’t bear weight. You stumbled toward them and ducked under Sarah’s arm to help support her as Tommy went around to the other side of the truck to retrieve his rifle.

“Look out!” you screamed, watching helplessly. Tommy dove out of the way as a police cruiser slammed into the overturned truck. The officer inside slumped over the steering wheel, unmoving.

“Don’t look, baby,” you reached to cover Sarah’s eyes. “Don’t look.” You had read how seeing human remains could really mess a person up. You didn’t have time to wonder how what you had seen tonight would affect you.

“You go!” Tommy called from the other side of the wreckage. “I’ll find another way through.”

You and Joel started down the sidestreet supporting Sarah’s weight between you. You turned down the adjoining alley, trying to get away from the crowds and the chaos, and nearly ran straight into more carnage. Joel froze in place; there on the other side of the alley one of those things–you wondered when they stopped being human–was, well, you could only think to describe it as feeding. Like a vampire. You had never really cared for Tom Cruise. But its victim was still alive. He saw you, reached out for help with a low moan.

“Here,” you whispered, lifting Sarah’s weight into Joel’s arms, slowly, carefully. “Here.”

“Don’t,” Joel hissed back, holding Sarah in his arms like a new bride.

“Go,” you said, taking another step into the alley.

You didn’t know what you were going to do, but you had to do something. If sharing air and close contact with these things is what made you sick, then you were already dead. But Joel and Sarah still had a chance.

Then the thing sat up. You met its eyes and it met yours and you knew whatever it was, it wanted you. You had fucked up.

“Go!” you called, sprinting back through the alley after Joel and Sarah. You were just a few feet behind them with the thing closing in fast.

You did have one advantage that perhaps even Joel or Tommy did not. Like every girl you knew, you had devoted a considerable amount of your brain power every day to planning what you would do if there were a predator after you.

You followed Joel through the back door of an abandoned bar, pushing tables and tearing down stools into the path behind you as you went. The thing stumbled and clawed its way through–one leg jutting out at a sickening angle, but it still kept coming impossibly fast and unfeeling.

As you followed Joel’s path through the kitchen you used the extra seconds you had bought to push the standing cooler in front of the swinging door. It took all of your might–adrenaline flooding your body. But as you raced from the kitchen, you could hear the thing forcing its way through your blockade.

You heard a shot, staring down the road at a humvee and a soldier, but even with the thing chasing you clearly dead, he didn’t lower his gun.

“Take her,” Joel said, handing Sarah off to you. “Stay behind me.”

You lifted Sarah, she was too big to be carried like a child, but you cradled her with her legs looped around your waist, covering her head with one hand.

“What about Uncle Tommy,” Sarah said.

“He’ll be fine,” you said. “We’ll go back for him.”

The soldier was talking on his radio, you strained to listen, but your hearing hadn’t recovered from all the gunfire. Then the soldier was lifting his gun.

“Run!” Joel shouted. “Run!”

He was turning toward you and you turned to run, but then you heard the shots. Joel slammed into your back. You tried to hold on to Sarah, but you fell–all the wind knocked out of you–rolling down the hillside.

You pushed yourself up from where you had landed on your belly. You saw Sarah on the ground a few feet away, a dark stain spreading across the front of her shirt.

“No,” you chanted, scrambling toward her on hands and knees. “No, Sarah.”

Sarah moaned as you drew her head into your lap and pressed your hands into her belly.

“I have to,” you cried, pressing down hard. “I’m sorry. I have to.”

You didn’t even notice the soldier had followed you to finish the job until you heard the second shot and saw Tommy standing beside Joel with the rifle, the dead man at his feet.

Then they saw you, struggling to keep Sarah’s blood inside her. Joel lunged at you, pushing you off her. Sarah cried in pain as he tried to lift her. You watched as life drained out of her and she went limp in his arms. You felt cold. You felt sick. You felt numb.

“You’re hit,” Tommy said, kneeling down beside you. You didn’t know what he meant until he pressed his hand into your shoulder and searing pain ripped through your body.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo

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kipunat · 4 months ago

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Tommy wakes up to screams.

On day 7 we get chapter 7 and an afterparty (a very liberal interpretation of the word, shh)! 💚🖤

This week was so much fun. Let's do it again sometime, please!! Thank you @hotcat37 for hosting!!

#fic: mine #käshweek24 #käärijä #tommy cash #käsh

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tortoisebore · 2 years ago

Note

Ok but did Sirius get the D? I need to know for imaginative purposes… and if yes, in which position?

Anywayyy, good job ;)

of COURSE he did 👹 (the rest is nsfw-ish & below the cut to be safe)

after they both stopped freaking out enough to actually get to the logistics of having sex they probably ended up starting out in missionary bc they’re sappy as fuck & wanted to kiss. but that position doesn’t rly do much for sirius as far as angles go so eventually he’s flipping over, but then he’s too far away & remus pulls him up so they’re back-to-chest.

and it’s all over in less than three minutes bc 1. remus won’t stop whispering all these stream-of-consciousness batshit insane things in sirius’ ear and 2. sirius’ throat was in full touching and biting distance of remus’ mouth & he got tunnel vision & forgot he was supposed to be trying to make it last

they’re such losers they definitely got a little weepy at some point during it & absolutely went for round 2 in the shower like an hour later bc they’re insatiable rabid monsters

#good for sirius #u ask tortoise answers #anon #hey sharpshooter rambles #chapter 7 afterparty #dw they’re gonna fuck again before the fic is done #multiple times even

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fountainpenguin · 1 year ago

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Cover image for a super self-indulgent Double Life songfic of mine... The final chapter went up this morning, so here's its Tumblr post!

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"Here's to the Health of Married Men"

... and their lovers! (x)

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Complete! - 7/7 chapters - 42k words

💚 More Pixels Imperfect 'fics

Inspired by the song "The Duel" from the musical Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

Ballroom fluff, introspection, and angst <3

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Synopsis: Scar guides us through an end-of-series party held in the server hub, where everyone's a little tipsy. While the desert duo may not always get along, they do their utmost to enjoy themselves...

... until Ren challenges Grian to a duel over his secret soulmate affair with BigB. Scar watches from the sidelines... and lets it all play out.

Check it out! (First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Here’s to the Health of Married Men

“… and their lovers~”

- “The Duel” - Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

💙 🧡 💚

Ren and BigB arrive at the ballroom in colors that complement, but don't quite match. Maybe that should've been the first clue that trouble still lurked in paradise, tucked underneath the visible lingers in their touch… BigB's hand less steady where it lies pressed against Ren's chest than Ren's firm arm behind his lower back.

(It's not a real ballroom. More of a convention center? Two floors: one of them full of dancing party guests and the mezzanine balcony a floor above. It's shady in here and lit with several dozen tiny lanterns strung on leads. Honestly, Scar isn't sure. It's a Jimmy event, or at least a Jimmy invitation. No one pulls the strings and gets a party or game night together quite like Jimmy; don't worry about it.)

Eyes turn to track the Box Boys as they make their way up the curled stairs together. BigB's vest is dark purple and accented in faint silver leaf patterns with a bow at his neck to match - rip him open like a present; expose bare stomach and rip that open too - and his wild curls are actually tamed back today. He trimmed his beard. Fancy-schmancy moth hybrid of a man. Not hard to tell what Grian sees in him. Scar leans his arm a little farther over the balcony. One of Ren's ears twitches in his direction, as do both BigB's fluffy antennae… though Scar's pretty sure he didn't make a noise. At least, no noise louder than the sweep of feet and skirts down below.

Aw, Ren's all sunshine and phoenix fire. He's dressed just as nice. Look at him, so snug and comfy in that outfit! The pale yellow vest hits like buttercream and cake frosting. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He matches the light walls, though his dark brown hair sets him apart like a statue full of shadowed creases. Took his shades off and everything, but replaced them with neat spectacles.

Scar half-turns, addressing everyone either standing or sitting around the tables behind him. "Hey! Our guests of honor have arrived. Let's make them feel welcome, shall we?"

No one's really listening. Maybe a couple of his friends, who nod absently or turn to catch sight of the stragglers in question. The conversations carry anyway. Their volume doesn't falter. Neither does the music, but that's only fair. The piano's downstairs. And a trumpet? There might be a trumpet; he isn't sure. So Scar doesn't grab his cane or push away from the banister. This position gives him a nice angle to oversee the room anyway.

I'd like to see Grian make a move on his 'secret soulmate' tonight of all nights…

Scar almost dressed in yellow too. For a while, he toyed with the idea of a light shade to match his zookeeper shirt… but this is a Double Life afterparty. Tonight, he and Grian are freshly on their red lives (after a doozy of a session with back to back deaths). While Jimmy had confessed he suspected at least one person to get knocked out of the series today, he probably hadn't anticipated four perma-deaths and the last greens of the server getting knocked down to red.

So in the sparse moments between logging out and arriving here, he switched to wearing black. It's thumb- thneed- thematically appropriate! The shirt cuts a V straight down his chest, exposing at least a little of his pecs. It's actually lacy, showing a lot more of his torso and his arms beneath his sleeves than anything most of his friends are wearing. And he didn't skimp on the fake silver gemstones either. Blue and purple flowers coat one side of his hair, mostly attached with barrettes.

Is this the right fit for a ballroom party? Probably not. But it's accented with black and white, like his on-server red life skin, and that's good enough for him. Scar lifts the wooden cup in his hand to his lips again. Raw binary code prickles on his tongue. He went half and half on this fill, working his way out of 0s and up to 1s. Some of his friends are drinking their 1s straight already. No surprise. They've been here 40 minutes, chatting and laughing even without BigB and Ren around. Maybe the Box Boys feared they'd be overshadowed by Jimmy and Tango. Those two have certainly stolen the evening tonight. But then, Jimmy deserves to. Out of everyone here tonight, he does.

BigB and Ren aren't even halfway up the staircase yet. They take every step together, moving in their ghostly whispered way. Ren keeps a light grip on BigB's wrist. BigB's antennae roll inward. They glint silver in the lantern light. Scar watches his eyes slip sideways. How strange to see him with his chocolate-brown eyes here in the Between dimension, no longer under the influence of a life either yellow or red. It's been a while.

Maybe tonight, he and I can finally talk face to face… without him trying to kill me.

Scar takes another sip of binary, this time more slowly. The 1s prickle and pop against his lips. Why not? BigB's out of the game now. No further need to dance around it, delaying his own gratification with pretty lies of I'll catch him next time; I'll do it on-camera; I want Grian to be around for this.

… He'd maybe like Grian to be around. Just, y'know… if it comes up. Grian's two tables away, one leg stretched out pretty far. His twin's with him… They've been talking for ten minutes by now. Scar can't help but wonder if it's all a front to prevent anyone else starting a conversation.

Or at least one person from starting a conversation.

You know… He and Grian never really did sort out the whole red life thing. If, like, he's mad.

BigB's fingers close around the collar of Ren's vest. He pulls him down, speaking words Scar can't make out from here. They look as though they're spoken through gritted teeth. Ren listens, pointed ears twitching, and finally rasps his tongue up BigB's cheek. BigB sighs, but doesn't say anything else. He leans that cheek on Ren's shoulder. Ren pats his arm, leading him up the stairs again with all the grace of a king.

I wonder if he's told BigB anything about his status as a king back on Hermitcraft. BigB's into history or something, right? Maybe he'd find that neat.

Scar isn't the only one watching the Box Boys from the balcony. As Scar tilts his wooden cup back and forth, debating whether it'd be a bad idea to get another refill, a finger reaches out to tap his shoulder. Oh? Scar turns his head. He's greeted by a face similar to his own, smiling grimly… Similar buff body, well taken care of, though this man's dressed in silver instead of red. He's partly translucent, flickering when you look at him head-on… but then, he sort of always is.

"What?"

BadTimeWithScar tips his head towards one shoulder. He lifts his wrist, indicating his communicator. Scar's eyes fall to his own.

"Oh. Sorry, hang on…"

He presses a couple buttons, pulling open the messages on his comm. The swelling music's incredibly loud right now. But there's a note from BadTime waiting for him, plain and simple. Scar studies it for several seconds, rearranging the blurry letters in his mind.

BadTimeWithScar: tag team the grians? BadTimeWithScar: i mean if youre not going to make a move for us… BadTimeWithScar: I will ;)

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