#me five minutes later: i don't remember

[wcbweblog]

thinking 'bout them again <3

[isilienelenihin]

I forgot to hit "confirm" when I made my grocery pickup order and now it's not going to be ready for another 4 hours and y'all know I am FIGHTING the urge to just scroll through Tumblr for that whole time because picking up groceries was item #3 on my list of things to do for the day and skipping items is ILLEGAL.

[sleepyangelkami]

more vi plss!! (and reader is a pillow princess)

SAY IT .vi

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 1.5K

VI (ARCANE) X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - vi calls you exactly what you are, a pillow princess and in efforts to prove her wrong, you only end up proving her right. but that's fine, because that was all she wanted.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!vi, sub!reader, pillow princess!reader, fingering (r.receiving), praise kink, dumbification, dirty talk, alternate universe, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

it started off as a joke.

a simple joke that left your girlfriends lips. you'd been laying on your stomach across the sitting room sofa, words mindlessly falling from both your lips as you flipped through a magazine. she sat man-spreading across the arm chair, controller in hand. you always said she loved her video games more than you, but she'd always deny.

then you heard it, the joke spewing from her lips with a smirk on her face. "yeah, okay, pillow princess."

instantly, your head snapped up from your magazine. your glittery pen that you'd been circling clothing with dropped from your pretty fingers. "i'm not a pillow princess."

vi seemed to sense your distress. she set the controller down as the game conveniently ended. "well, i'm not saying there's anything wrong with it." she leaned back against the armchair, resting her hands behind her head. "i love that you're a pillow princess, believe me."

you wouldn't believe how many times she'd gotten off just by thinking about it. you were so good for her, so responsive. she hardly had to touch you and you were falling apart. sure, she loved watching your head between her thighs as you whimpered into her but there was nothing more she loved than watching you, hearing you. all of it.

you seemed butt hurt by the joke.

but vi swiftly changed the conversation, noticing the furrow of your brow.

vi knew how sensitive you were, how easily you took everything to heart and she didn't want you over thinking this. and her tactics proved right, by five minutes later you were showing her a pretty top you'd spotted on the coloured pages.

you didn't think much of it at first. in fact, for the next while, you didn't think of it at all.

perhaps you had too much in your head to contain so much information, you told vi that was why you talked so much.

it wasn't until vi had you pinned down against the bed, making out with you, that the moment popped into your head again.

you almost shut it out on accident, then it clicked. vi was kissing you deeply, her hands dragged at your hips, pulling and kneading the skin while you passed heavy breaths through your lips, kissing her back just as hard.

and suddenly, you had this urge to prove her wrong.

vi felt you shift, letting you take the lead.

she felt you turn you both over, you landed in her lap and suddenly, she was the one against the bed. her brows shifted in amusement. "what's this, baby?"

you shifted your hair to one side of your head so it didn't get in the way, you weren't really used to things like this. "jus' trying to prove something." you mumbled before reaching down and kissing her lips.

don't get me wrong, vi loved the feeling of you kissing her, whatever way you sat, laid or stood, on top or not. but she couldn't seem to shake the amusement as your mouth left hers, leaving a trail of kisses against her neck. "this have something to do with that joke i made before?"

your lips stopped momentarily at her neck, eyes gazing up. "'m not a pillow princess."

vi didn't understand why you were so adamant about it.

there was no shame in it. on the contrary, she adored it.

"yeah?" her brow cocked and she was looking at you this way that had you nodding, suddenly unable to speak. "y'sure, sweetheart? cause if i remember correctly..." suddenly, you were being flipped over again, beneath her all over again. "you quite like sitting there all pretty 'n taking it."

you could feel her hands trail down past your waist, kneading your thighs in her hands. "v-vi, 'm trying to―" you were cut off by the breath being caught in your throat.

vi's hand had trailed up your skirt, her fingers dancing over your panties. "you're trying to what, sweet girl?" you felt her fingers rub against your clothed clit. "c'mon, use your words f'me."

"vi!" you whined, feeling her fingers against you. she wasn't being fair, you were supposed to take charge but how could you think about anything when she was touching you like that?

a soft laugh left the girls lips as she pushed your panties aside, fingers gentle against your swollen bud. "love it when you whine like that."

you could only look up at her with your tinted hot cheeks.

she began to press gentle kisses against the nape of your neck, fingers trailing down to your hole, she rounded her fingers against you, collecting the trail of your slick across her digits. she made a fake gasp noise. "'n look how wet you are already." she couldn't help but smirk. "good girl."

two single words that set you off every time.

a gasp left your lips as she slipped her two fingers inside you at once. you suddenly moaned with pleasure.

vi was like a drug. every time she touched you, you found yourself addicted, begging and chasing for her to praise you. you'd do anything to please her but luckily for you, that meant just sitting there and taking it. you truly did wish you could be less 'responsive' but vi wouldn't take it any other way. her favourite thing to do was turn you dumb with her mere fingers, maybe even her strap.

your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, feeling her fingers pound against your sopping cunt. "please, vi." you moaned out. "please don't stop."

"yeah? wanna be my good girl again, huh?" nudging your face with her nose, littering kisses on your cheek.

you could only whimper out with a nod. vi had this way of making you feel like you were high on magic. you couldn't help but want her in every way.

"then say it, angel." fingers pumping in and out, embarrassing squelching sounds bounced off each wall of the bedroom. "say you're my pillow princess."

she was met with a mere whine of dissatisfaction from you.

she feigned sympathy with a coo. "awh, i know, baby. my poor girl, jus' so mean, aren't I?" but the girl didn't care much for your whining and whimpering, she'd get you to say it before you came. "but you gotta say it, yeah? don't want me to stop do you?"

you pursed your lips closed. "mm-mm. please don't stop." you practically panted out, you could almost feel frustration build in your water line. "nnghh― please, vi!"

"four words." is all she whispered back, her palm grazed against your clit every time her fingers pounded into your entrance. "know you can say it, pretty girl. jus' need me to make you all dumb, don't you, baby?"

a whimper of her name was the only thing that left your lips, eyes screwing shut.

"close, sweetheart? 's now or never, baby. say it or i'll stop."

the feeling was knotting in your stomach, ready to unravel. you didn't want to but you knew better than to cum without following orders.

so you forced the damned sentence to pass your lips. "'m your pillow princess."

and a coo only fell from the magenta haired girl. "awh, know you are, sweet girl. see? my good girl always listens, doesn't she? huh?" vi tended to ask you questions while knuckles deep in your pussy, she knew you couldn't utter a single word. "you jus' need me to make your poor pussy feel all good, don't you?"

a breathless, "uh-huh." was her answer. "'m close!"

"yeah? gonna be good f'me 'n say please?" of course, vi had to make you beg for it.

"please!" you practically squeaked out as your back arched against the bed.

a chuckle left her lips. "you can do better than that."

and you really, definitely could. but vi had made you all dumb, exactly her plan. "please let me cum, vi. please, need it so bad. please." you repeated the word please in little whispers, unable to hold back the knot in your stomach.

"you're such a good girl, 'course you can cum, baby." she felt your spongy walls suddenly tighten around her fingers. "that's it, sweetheart, cum all over vi's fingers, 's a good girl."

vi pumped her fingers in and out of you, letting you ride out your high like she always did until you were squirming away from her.

she leaned against the bed with a self-loving smirk on her face, hardly glancing your way. you laid next to her, chest falling and rising as you panted out breaths. a beat of silence passed until you spoke up. "vi?" turning your head to her.

"yes, my pillow princess?" she teased.

instantly, a frown fell on your face as you crossed your arms over your chest. she wasn't being fair. "i was gonna say something, now i'm not speaking to you."

"oh, come on." she lifted your face by her thumb to make you look at her again. "no pouting or else i'll have to shut you up all over again."

an idea suddenly fell flat on your head.

your pout deepened.

vi only climbed over you with the smuggest of smirks on her face. "you dirty little slut."

main masterlist/vi's masterlist

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[wethotcrazy]

CAN'T CONTROL IT

pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 739

just something a little short and sweet for franco colapinto. also i think the can't control their mouth and can't control their face would suit him well?! idk bro

The F1 social media team had a new favorite hobby: catching YN's reactions to everything Franco Colapinto did.

It started during pre-season testing in Bahrain. Franco, fresh in his Williams racing suit, had spun on his installation lap – a rookie mistake that had the paddock chuckling. The TV director, whether by instinct or divine intervention, cut immediately to YN in the Alpine garage.

Her expression was poetry in motion: eyes rolling skyward, lips pressed together to suppress a smile, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I can't believe this" and "that's my idiot" in one fluid movement.

The clip went viral within hours.

"Have you seen this?" Franco bounded into the Alpine hospitality area, phone already extended. "'Every Time YN Dies Inside Watching Franco Colapinto: Testing Edition' – they even put sad violin music over your faces!"

YN didn't need to look. She'd already seen the compilation – a masterfully edited collection of her various reactions to Franco's testing adventures. Her personal favorite was the slow-motion zoom on her face when he'd described his first F1 car as "spicy."

"I'm starting to think you do these things on purpose," she muttered, but her treacherous face was already softening at his enthusiasm.

"Maybe I just like seeing your reactions," he winked, dropping into the seat beside her. "Remember in F3 when you said your face wasn't that expressive?"

"Remember in F2 when you said you'd learned to think before speaking?"

His laugh echoed through the hospitality area. "Some things never change, no?"

The Australian GP brought new material for the ever-growing collection of "YN Can't Control Her Face" content. As Alpine's reserve driver, she was in the garage when Franco scored his first F1 points – a remarkable P8 in a chaotic race.

His radio message was pure, unfiltered Franco: "P8! P8! YN, are you watching? Better than that time in F2 when you said I'd never score points because I was too busy talking!"

The cameras found her instantly: pride blooming across her features before she could school them into professional neutrality.

"Every time they show your face, the comments explode," Esteban teased later. "I think you've got more screen time than some of the actual drivers."

YN groaned. "Don't remind me. Someone made a TikTok trend out of my different 'Franco Reactions.'"

"At least you're not 'Can't Control His Mouth' Colapinto," Pierre chimed in. "Did you hear him in the press pen? He spent five minutes explaining how you once bet him he couldn't qualify top 10 without talking on team radio."

"Did he mention he lost that bet?"

"No, but your face when they asked you about it said everything."

Monaco was where things reached new heights. Franco, running in P6 during practice, had been providing commentary that somehow always circled back to YN:

"YN's watching, no? Tell her this is how you take the hairpin properly—" Franco spoke through team radio confidently before scraping through the hairpin.  "Ah. Maybe not like that."

The camera cuts to YN's perfect face-palm, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I knew it" and "why am I even surprised" in one swift motion.

The resulting clip went viral on Tiktok and became F1's most-watched social media post of the weekend.

"You know what I think?" Franco asked one evening, as they shared takeaway in the quiet of the paddock after everyone else had left. The cameras were finally off, but YN's face was as expressive as ever in the dim light.

"That's a dangerous start to any conversation with you."

He grinned, nudging her shoulder. "I think you like that I can't control my mouth."

"And what makes you say that?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral.

"Because every time I talk about you, you make this face – like you're trying not to smile but can't help it. It's my favorite one."

"I do not have a special face for when you talk about me."

"Si, you do! You're making it right now!"

She threw a napkin at him, but her smile – soft and genuine and completely uncontrolled – gave her away.

The next day, during the drivers' briefing, Alex caught Franco staring at YN with an expression that mirrored all of hers – soft and fond and entirely unguarded.

The photo went viral with the caption: "Looks like neither of them can control anything anymore 💕"

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee. 

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile. 

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise. 

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss. 

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh. 

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved. 

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again. 

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.” 

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.” 

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that. 

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly. 

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong. 

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants. 

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face. 

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly. 

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in. 

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—” 

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true. 

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his. 

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay. 

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss. 

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room. 

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?” 

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head. 

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down. 

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile. 

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues. 

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass. 

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.  

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala. 

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell. 

He’s unfairly handsome. 

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze. 

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him. 

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters. 

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say. 

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says. 

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached. 

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.    

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway. 

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok. 

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them. 

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point. 

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison. 

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind. 

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds. 

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around. 

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father. 

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk. 

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out. 

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says. 

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly. 

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day. 

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day. 

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks. 

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so. 

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you. 

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily. 

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised. 

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs. 

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?” 

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in. 

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed. 

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first. 

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected. 

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make. 

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed. 

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings. 

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done. 

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough. 

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough. 

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon. 

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day. 

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting. 

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t. 

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting. 

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you. 

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs. 

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same. 

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge. 

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files. 

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents. 

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that. 

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door. 

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger. 

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes. 

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.” 

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours. 

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything. 

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you? 

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation. 

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do. 

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty. 

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more. 

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you. 

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?” 

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies. 

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle. 

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites. 

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment. 

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs. 

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction. 

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing. 

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it. 

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career. 

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm. 

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this. 

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder. 

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today. 

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision. 

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you. 

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly. 

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede. 

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply. 

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know?  But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs. 

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks. 

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans. 

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans. 

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says. 

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now. 

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

Series Masterlist

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Kidnapped III

Fridolina Rolfö x Baby!Reader

Summary: Your first steps

Your first steps come like most of your firsts do.

In Frido's home in Barcelona.

She'd (yet again) managed to convince your parents that it was okay to leave you in her care while they went out exploring the city for a spot to have dinner during date night.

"Alright, you," Frido says in mock seriousness, standing you up against her sofa," Let's get you walking."

You've been crawling for a little while now - also something that first happened at your big sister's house - but you've also been learning how to pull yourself up.

"Just a few little steps," Frido continues as she backs away to the wall opposite you," Come on, älskling. Come on."

You look at her blankly for a moment, stable with your hands on the soft fabric of the sofa.

Frido wiggles her outstretched fingers at you. "Come on, älskling. Just a little? I'm not very far."

"Bah!" You babble, a little finger pointed her way before you amuse yourself with picking at the threads of the blanket thrown haphazardly on the sofa.

Frido rolls her eyes. "Yes, yes, bah! But don't you want to walk to me? Look! I've got Teddy!"

She wiggles your Teddy rattle at you and you perk up at the sound of the noise.

"That's it! Come to Teddy!"

You reach out for him though, still rooted to the spot and Frido sighs.

"How did you get your Cub to walk?" She asks five minutes later, grossly impatient enough to call Mapi for advice.

"Er...She just kind of did it? She was chasing Bagheera."

"Well that's unhelpful!"

"Maybe get her a cat?"

"I don't have time to get her to bond with a cat enough for her to chase it."

"Maybe," Frido hears Ingrid yell from wherever she is in her and Mapi's apartment," If you stopped picking her up all the time she'd actually start walking! You spoil her!"

"It's not spoiling if it makes her happy!"

Frido ends the call, looking over at where you've somehow pulled yourself up onto the sofa and is now fiddling with the remote.

"You can't walk but you know how to climb?" Frido bemoans," This is so unfair."

She flops onto the seat next to you, pulling you into her lap. "You're going to walk before you go home," She says," You're not leaving otherwise."

You giggle, kicking your feet happily as Frido gently tickles the sole of your socked feet.

"And once you've started walking, we can work on those football skills."

You grunt a little bit, batting Frido's hands away when you spot your Teddy rattle on the floor.

She lowers you to the ground when you keep pushing her.

"Yeah, yeah," She laughs," Teddy's more important. I get it. Go and army crawl over there to him."

You grunt at Frido again and, like you're just trying to spite her, you put one foot in front of the other and kind of wobbly shuffle over to Teddy, shaking him so he rattles about.

"Te-Te!" You giggle excitedly, shaking him a bit more aggressively and looking at Frido as if you're presenting him to her.

"That's right. That's Teddy!" Frido laughs," And you're walking! Look at you!"

By the time your parents return home, Frido's got a little goal set up in the hall and you sitting in front of a ball.

"No, älskling!" She groans, lifting you up onto your feet again," You kick it. Remember?

You screech at her, sitting back down again and grabbing the ball with your hands.

"No," Frido says," With your feet. Like I do."

"Frido, what are you doing?" Your Papa asks, brow raised as you start gnawing on the little ball.

"She started walking!" Frido replies quickly," I reckon we can train her up now, maybe get her in a few five-a-sides and-"

"I don't think they do five-a-sides for babies."

"Later then," She says dismissively," I'll get her on the pitch at some point. Once she, you know, learns to kick and not-"

You toddle on very shaky legs to the little goal Frido set up and throw your ball into it.

Mama picks you up, throwing you up and down happily. "Goal!" She cheers," I think we've got a little handball star in the making!"

"No," Frido insists," She'll play football. Won't you, älskling? Another football player in the family?"

"Bah!" You grunt, wild little limbs hitting Frido straight in the nose as she recoils.

"I think y/n's made her choice," Papa laughs, clapping Frido on the back.

"No!" Frido says with a laugh," I refuse to accept it! That girl will be out on a football pitch before you know it!"

In the end, all of your handball medals hang up next to Frido's football ones in your parent's house.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ BEGINNER'S LUCK ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: you beat him at his own game on livestream, and it's your first time playing

contents: fem!reader. gojo gets slandered by everyone </3 but he slanders toji. again. vague descriptions of what game you guys are playing, imagine whichever game u want.

author's note: thinkin' about making streamer!gojo a series, stay tuned ...

"so you're gonna want to click that when someone attacks you," satoru informs you, hand on your shoulder. his chin rests on the top of your head as he watches you learn the in's and out's of some game he's well-known for streaming. "no, not that one, silly. the other one."

you groan and make a face at the screen in exasperation. "why do all the buttons look the same?" you grumble, drumming your fingers on the table next to his luminescent keyboard. "you better go easy on me when we go live."

satoru laughs and kisses the top of your head before strolling over to his own plush seat next to you. "don't worry, sweetheart. i will, i promise."

a couple minutes later, satoru starts chatting with his thousands of viewers as you puzzle over how to join his co-op lobby. 

toji-fushiguro: is your gf gonna join? ;)

you hear satoru scoff and see him lean closer to the monitor, squinting at the message that mentions you. "i remember you," satoru huffs, white hair falling into his eyes. "you better stop bringing her up or i'll block you, fishface."

a small laugh bubbles out of your lips as satoru continues addressing the flood of comments asking about you. in his last stream, he had mentioned thinking about teaching you to play the game he got famous for, and his viewers reacted more than enthusiastically. "wow, you guys really want to see me win against my own girlfriend?" satoru tsks, wagging his finger at the screen. "nah, i promised i'd go easy on her. i like her more than you faceless strangers on the internet. i'm looking at you, toji."

"satoru?" you whisper, scrunching up your nose when he immediately turns to you, all thoughts of publicly humiliating toji set aside. "how do i... join a co-op session?"

your boyfriend grins and leans over, clicking a couple buttons in too fast of a sequence for you to follow, and soon enough, your avatar stands next to satoru's. "there!"

"thanks," you huff, watching him slide back into his chair and banter with a couple more comments. and moments later, the game starts. satoru starts out with a play-by-play of his actions, making it really easy for you to piece together the strategy and techniques of the game. to your surprise, you don't die that easily — in fact, you eliminate five other players before retreating to the top of a tree to hide.

a couple kills later, you and satoru are some of the last people on the map. satoru makes quick work of the leftovers before stretching his arms and grinning smugly. "looks like i trained you well, darling," he calls, briefly turning to you and blowing a kiss. "now, where are you? come out and let me catch you, baby."

you hum in response, not bothering to come down from your tree. thankfully, the leaves are thick enough to obscure your avatar from satoru's view, and he walks right past you without even bothering to check. you grin and lean in closer to the computer, aiming at his blissfully unaware avatar and—

"what the fuck?" satoru yelps when his avatar crumbles to the ground. a message noting his death appears on his screen, and he turns to you immediately, betrayal evident on his shocked expression. "you shot me in the back!" he whines, getting up and looking at your screen in disbelief. "how could you?!"

you stick your tongue out at him smugly. "i win!" you cheer, and satoru splutters in disbelief, stumbling over his words as he watches you reap the rewards of your win. "i can't believe you lost to a beginner," you muse, rubbing in your victory. "maybe i should take over your stream," you continue, fluttering your eyelashes at satoru as he gapes at your screen.

"it's only 'cause i went easy on you!" satoru huffs, walking back to his chair and requesting a rematch. "this time, i won't be so nice."

the next game, satoru doesn't say anything, ocean-blue eyes focused on his own screen. from the stream opened in the corner of your monitor, you see his comments blow up.

suguru-geto: wow you're really off your game today

inumaki: he just sucks wdym

toji-fushiguro: deserved 💯

you think about hiding in a tree again, but decide against it. satoru would probably expect you to repeat that strategy, and for all you know, he might have an item that could help him sneak up on you. so you run off to an area that's relatively flat and keep an eye out for other users. you eliminate two before you catch a glimpse of satoru in a tree, but just a second later, he vanishes. 

from the corner of your eye, you see satoru mouth "got you" to his screen, and just in time, you dodge an attack you wouldn't have seen otherwise. somehow, your finger slips, and you shoot without aim. and somehow, your aim was on-point — satoru's avatar falls to its knees once more, and satoru groans in defeat.

"why are you good at this?" satoru grumbles, jumping off his seat and strolling over to wear you sit with a cocky smile on your lips. he all but abandons his stream as he walks over and pokes you childishly. satoru watches you eliminate the last two users, and he scoffs at the emblem of victory that lights up your screen. he kisses you begrudgingly and mutters something about losing a bet, to which you kiss his nose affectionately.

"but really," satoru whines, plopping back down in his chair and swiveling it to face you. "how are you so good?! and shut up suguru," he snipes, leering at the chat. "i'm doing fine, she's just insane! and you too, inumaki. there's a reason all your fans are regulars on my stream! because you suck!" at that, you snicker, spinning around in your own chair and half-watching the chat blow up with more of his viewers' thoughts. 

inumaki: SHUT UP U JUST LOST TO A FIRST TIMER

megumi-fushiguro: real 

"oh, shut it, other-fushiguro," satoru scoffs, narrowing his eyes at the chatbox. "at least my hair doesn't look like how little kids draw grass."

you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the laugh threatening to slip out, but when satoru turns and pouts at you, you can't help it. he's so petty and stubborn, but his eyes soften when he sees how big your smile is. and, not to your surprise, he matches your grin with one of his own. satoru draws a heart in the air with both his index fingers and scrunches up his nose at you, and your heart melts.

"you're so stupid," you mumble, watching him kick his feet like an antsy five year-old. satoru opens his arms in response, and no more than two seconds pass before you're nestled in his lap. he's wearing a light blue hoodie and white sweats, and nothing could make you more comfortable than that in the world. you turn your head and make eye contact with satoru's camera, and smile at the flood of comments on how cute you two look together.

yuuji-itadori: awww its kinda cute

suguru-geto: sooo down bad tbh

toji-fushiguro: you gotta be f*cking kidding me

satoru kisses the side of your face while glaring at the screen, and eventually he presses his lips to your ear and whispers, "wanna end the stream? there's too many people watching and i wanna keep you all to myself."

"hehe, let's do it!"

[moonstruckme]

May I pleaseeee request poly!marauders x reader (gn or fem, up to you) where r and siri come home at like, 4 am from a rave (or clubing), and they are in makeup and have glitter all over them, and their exhausted and only slightly tipsy (from alchohol or drugs, up to whatever you think would be more fun to write) so they try to get cleaned up without waking up james or remus but ultimately fail?

I totally understand if you don't wanna write it 🫶

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: mention of alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

When Remus wakes, he doesn’t at first know why. James is asleep next to him, snuffling softly, his cheek smushed into the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Remus’ fingers are woven loosely in the curls by his forehead. 

Then there’s a muffled thump from down the hall, followed by some hushed cursing, and he remembers. 

“They definitely moved the couch closer to the door to fuck with us.” Then, a moment later: “I am being quiet. Doll, you’re projecting.” 

Get a drop of alcohol in Sirius, and he becomes the worst whisperer in the world. 

Remus can hear your attempts at shushing your boyfriend as he slips out of bed. James is dead to the world, but he stretches out an arm as Remus’ fingers unwind from his hair as though feeling for where he’s gone. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, Remus is gladder than ever that he and James had begged off this particular excursion. It’s past five in the morning. 

He goes toward the light they left on for you by the door, but you and Sirius have already migrated to the kitchen. Remus props himself up on the doorframe, wrapping his arms around his middle, and allows himself to just watch the two of you for a minute. 

“Water first,” you’re saying, voice hushed far more effectively than Sirius’. You grab two glasses with extreme care from the cabinet, setting them down slowly so as not to make any noise. 

“I think this makeup is going to be crusted onto me forever,” Sirius whines. “I’ll never be able to get it all off.” 

“I don’t know if I have the energy to try,” you admit. 

You do both have an awful lot of glitter on you. What was intentional and precise when you left that evening has now traveled down onto your cheeks, leaving you lustrous and disheveled-looking. When Sirius closes his eyes, tipping his head back as he leans against the countertop, the black makeup around his eyes makes them look like glittering chasms. Remus notes that your shoulder shimmers with a similar color, like he’d laid his head on it at some point in the night. 

You pass Sirius a glass and hoist yourself up onto the counter, the both of you falling quiet while you drink your water. You sigh at the end of it. 

Sirius hums in response, a tired sort of smile lifting his lips. He leans his head against the side of your arm and lets his eyes fall closed again. 

“Did you have fun?” he asks, softer now than he has been since you came inside. 

“Mhm.” You set your empty glass down, using that hand to comb strands of hair away from Sirius’ face. 

Remus' heart nearly turns to mush as he watches the two of you, each clearly exhausted and yet still trying to take care of the other. You, you’ve always been open with your tenderness, but Sirius has taken years to get to where he is now. It still surprises Remus sometimes to see it, his boyfriend’s caring out from under the shroud of insouciance and joking. 

“I have an idea,” you say. Your tone is warm and lulling, not unlike your boyfriend’s. “We could take the spicy crisps into the living room, and lay on the couch to eat them.” 

Eyes still closed, Sirius smiles. “What about bed?”

“Rem won’t let us eat them in the bed.” 

Remus suppresses a chuckle. 

“I know, sweetness. I thought you were tired.” 

You sigh, long and heavy. “I am. I think I’m so tired I almost don’t care if I go to sleep. I might die if I don’t have a spicy crisp, though.” 

Sirius seems to be contemplating this when James comes up behind Remus. His hair is askew and glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, and he has the glazed-over look of someone who themselves is not quite sure if they’re awake or dreaming. 

“How wasted are they?” he asks, voice weighted with drowsiness. 

“Not very, I don't think,” Remus murmurs. 

That’s when Sirius notices them. He picks his head up, nudging your knee with his elbow so you look over. 

“Oh.” You shrink a bit, expression pinching. “Sorry.” 

You so thoroughly look it that Remus can’t even feign upset at having been woken up. “Come to bed,” he says fondly. 

Neither of you move but Sirius opens his arms, beseeching Remus to come to him instead. Remus, too tired to pretend at being any less in love than he is, goes. 

“I thought you’d be in earlier,” he says into Sirius’ hair. It smells like sweat and a little bit like smoke. 

“The cabs were busier than we expected,” Sirius replies, voice even sleepier now that his face is in Remus’ neck. “We walked a while and then caught a bus once they started running.” 

Remus makes a disgruntled sound, but it’s James who says, “You should’ve called.” His voice sounds muffled, and Remus looks over to find it’s buried in your chest. You’re smiling faintly with your face turned down into his curly mop, your hands on the back of his head and his holding your thighs. “We would’ve come and got you.” 

“I wanted to,” Sirius defends himself, removing his face from Remus’ neck to cut you a teasing look. “She wouldn’t let me.” 

James lifts his head to look up at you. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you say, voice soft as though still trying to accommodate the sleep he really should be getting. “You both have work in the morning.” 

James groans at the reminder, hiding his face in your chest again. Remus sets a hand on top of his head, scratching James' scalp consolingly. 

“You should always call,” he tells you, just for the record. But really he’s in no mood to argue. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, slipping off the counter. 

James wraps his arms around your shoulders, forcing the both of you to walk with small, plodding footsteps, and Sirius also refuses to be out of Remus’ hold, clinging to his arm as you all start down the hallway. The bed is no sooner in sight that you let out a low whine. 

Sirius echoes it when you say, “We still have to take off our makeup.”

“What if,” James suggests, “you sleep now, and when Remus and I get up in an hour we can take it off for you while you stay in bed?” 

James hardly has time to let you go before Sirius is hanging off him, almost teary with gratitude. “God, I love you. That’s the best idea I ever heard.” 

[lucidfairies]

you-know-who [a.a]

pairing: dad's business partner abby anderson x f!reader

summary: abby has been your dad's loyal business partner for quite some time, and she's totally off limits, but that doesn't stop her from appearing in your wet dreams every night. tonight they just happened to come true.

warnings: mdni 18+, dom!abby, sub!reader, virgin!reader, experienced!abby, fingering [r] face riding [r], strap usage [r], strap referred to as cock, pet names, praise, bondage, age gap, slight overstim, breeding kink brrrr

word count: 3.7k

Your dad is good at a lot of things. He's good at business, making deals, and negotiating. But being a dad? Not so much. Sure, you got to go to banquets and beautiful galas, but it wasn't worth the expense of no father figure. The worst part of it all is when he pretends to be present but, in reality, knows nothing about you.

Your best friend, Dina, sat on the end of the bed while you rummaged through your wardrobe, trying to find something nice to wear. "It's just dinner." She said lazily, not looking up from her phone. "Why don't you wear that blue dress with the slit? You look really good in that one." You groaned, turning to face her.

"I wore that one last time, remember? I can't wear it twice in a row. Plus, this is a really big brand deal for my dad. I need to look my absolute best." You continued to contemplate dresses until you finally decided on one. It was black, with a square neckline that always made your cleavage look phenomenal. It hardly came to the middle of your thigh, but sitting at a dinner table, you were sure no one would notice.

"Is you-know-who gonna be there?" Dina asked, setting her phone down as she was suddenly intrigued. She smirked as your face reddened a little.

"Yes, she's going to be there. Gotta look my best. Tonight could be the night." I winked at her.

One good thing about having a dad who's a multi-million dollar CEO is that he tends to have the finest employees of all time working for him - especially Abigail Anderson. You and Dina have a running joke that sometimes you and Abby will hook up because she always eyes you the same way you do her.

Tonight definitely wasn't going to be the night for a multitude of reasons. First, she's 33, and you're 21, which basically throws you out of the competition. Second, your dad was going to be home tonight, which meant you were home tonight. Dina promised that she could cover for you, but you've never taken her up on that opportunity. And last but certainly not least, if your father found out you slept around with his right-hand woman, you would probably be disowned, and she would probably get beheaded.

You held your head high, though, as you began to do your makeup and curl your hair. Once you finished, you slipped the dress over your head and zipped it up with assistance from Dina. "You know, if you throw on and dress and do your makeup, you could come with me. My dad probably wouldn't notice."

"Nah, I'll leave you and your soon to be wife alone for the night. Have fun, baby girl." She kissed your cheek and started collecting her things. You walked her down to the front door, bid her a good bye, then shut the door.

Mere minutes later, a black car pulled up outside the door, and you knew that meant it was time to go. You grabbed a black handbag and heels, then rushed out the door.

When you arrived, you took note of the fact that all of your dad's colleagues' cars were parked together, and there was Abby's black Porsche, looking sleek as ever. You grinned, then remembered where you were and dropped your face back into a neutral position.

As you walked toward their private room, you spotted your father and approached him. "Hey sweetheart," you hugged awkwardly, "grab a seat. We're waiting on five more people." You smiled and nodded, entering the room and analyzing it. There was Abby, with a glorious open seat next to her. You claimed it, placing your handbag on the floor and your napkin in your lap.

Abby looked at you briefly, smirking when you met her eye. She knew she looked hot. You knew it, too. She made a basic white button-down, and gray slacks look so good. You could hardly imagine what she'd look like naked. All that muscle, the veins that popped from her arm. She was a walking wet dream if you'd ever seen one.

"You look good tonight," she whispered, and even over the commotion of the table, you could hear her. "Maybe even better than last time."

"Likewise, Ms. Anderson." You complimented, using the sluttiest voice you could muster. Her cheeks got red and she turned away, jumping into a conversation with the table of people. Your eyes jumped from her sharp jaw to her full lips, thinking about how good she would look between your legs.

This happens every time.

But tonight – tonight was different. Tonight, you decided that you were going to do something about it. I mean, the worst she could do is turn you down, right? You stood, brushing your hand against her thigh as you excused yourself to the bathroom. Once there, you fixed your makeup and pulled your dress down and little at the top, just to make your tits look better.

You left the bathroom, putting a hand on her shoulder as you stepped into and took your seat. "Ms. Anderson," you asked, getting her attention. She immediately looked over to you, eyes dropping to the top of your dress before quickly snapping back up. "Could you pass the water?"

"Yes ma'am," her voice was low and her eyes were dark. She grabbed the pitcher and refilled your glass for you, smiling as she placed it on the table.

Your dad asked you a question about something, but all you could think about was Abby's hand, which was now curiously dragging along your thigh. Your breath hitched, but you played it off with a cough and continued talking.

Suddenly her large, warm hand was under your dress, tracing circles on the inside of your thigh. Your conversation with you dad had come to an end at this point, thank God, because you were seconds away whining and begging her to continue.

Once she was sure that your pussy was aching, she pulled her hand away and cut into her food, taking a bite. Your head was a little dizzy, and you tried to comprehend if that actually happened or not. You needed some way of making this go further. If you went to the bathroom again it would look suspicious, but it seemed like the best plan right now.

"You're going to follow me." You said to her, standing up and walking out of the room. You went into the single bathroom, waiting patiently. Two minutes passed and you got slightly irritated, considering going back. But the door opened, and there was Abby's brooding figure.

"What are you doing, y/n?" She asked, leaning against the bathroom wall. "'Cause it seems a lot like you're trying to get my attention." Your mind was blank. Why did you think this was a good idea? "Do you want my attention, sweetheart?" Abby took a step forward, causing your ass to press gently against the bathroom sink.

"Yes, Ms. Anderson." You ran a hand down her chest and abs, feeling them contrast under your hand. "I want you." You pulled her further into you by her waist, so that her thigh was slotted between your legs.

"Here's what we're gonna do, sugar," she dipped her head so that her hot breath hit your neck, "You're gonna come to my house after dinner in this dress," she kissed your neck lightly, "and I'm gonna fuck you until you know no name but mine." You practically whimpered under her touch. "Yes?"

"Yes." Abby backed up, fixed her shirt, then left the bathroom. You followed minutes later, taking your seat next to her.

The dinner droned on and on, to the point that you wanted to just get up and walk out with Abby on your hip. But you didn't. You suffered through having to listen to brand deals while also thinking about the ache between your legs and everything she's going to do to you.

You wanted her to tie you to her headboard and fuck you with her strap until you came three times, maybe spank you. You wanted her to do bad things to you ‐ but the worst part was that you hadn't actually done anything before.

Finally, finally, your dad closed the deal and the dinner began to come to an end. You shot up, grabbed your bag and rushed to your father. "I'm sleeping at Dina's tonight," you told him. He kissed your head and whisked you away, too high on the feeling of making a new deal that he didn't have time to pay attention to you. "Take me to Abby Anderson's house." You told the driver, who nodded and pulled out of the lot.

You got there before her, awkwardly, and stood outside. She arrived 5 minutes after you, striding toward you with an absolute purpose. "Someone's eager." She said, smirking. She let you in and you sat your bag down, then kicked off your heels. You were so much shorter than her without your heels, and it was oddly hot. "Can I get you anything?" She knew you wanted to fuck, and you weren't having it.

You grabbed her and kissed her roughly, groaning when she grabbed your waist and pinned you to the counter. Her warm tongue breached your lips and massaged yours, with nothing sweet about it. She grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the island. "I'm so much older than you baby," She mumbled into your neck. "We probably shouldn't do this."

"It turns me on, Ms. Anderson." You moaned as her teeth came into contact with your favorite spot on your neck. You ground your hips into the air, looking for anything with friction.

"Oh, you want me so bad, princess." She mocked, cupping your cunt. You cried out, grinding into her palm. "Have you ever been with a woman?" She asked, grabbing your hips to grind them against her palm.

"N-no one," you whimpered, "I've never been with anyone." You expected her to remove her hand and tell you to leave, that she wouldn't do it, but she didn't. She swiftly lifted you off the island and placed you on the floor.

"I'm gonna ruin you, baby. Now follow me." You took her hand as she led you up the steps and down the hall to her bedroom, where she locked the door. "Take your dress off and lay down." You did as she said, but she disappeared into a room off of her bedroom. You heard the water running while you laid down, and she came back out moments later.

Her hands were washed and she had a strap in one of them that she sat down on the nightstand. She shed her shoes and buttoned down, tossing them in a pile with your dress, then climbed over you. She pushed your knees up around her hips and began kissing your neck lightly. "How many times do you wanna come tonight, honey?"

"Um.." you were practically braindead by that question. "One?" That's all you needed. Not like you had ever done this before. She groaned softly.

"How's three?" You gasped, rolling your hips into hers. "Three’s good then, sugar?" You nodded quickly, running your hands down her torso. She reached behind you and unclasped your bra, pulling it off and tossing it somewhere. You whined as the cold air of her room hit your nipples. Everything suddenly became very real, and it finally clicked that you were laying half naked in your dad's partner's bed while she kneaded your tits and took them in her mouth.

"Oh Abby," you moaned as she bit gently on your nipple. Your head fell back, and you grabbed at her hair to keep her going.

Abby almost came in her boxers after hearing you moan her name. She had wanted this since the day she met you, but never made a move. Her cunt was throbbing, and she was just about ready to hump her bed like she was some kind of high schooler giving head for the first time.

Abby ran her thumb down your pussy over your underwear, moaning at the way you squirmed under her. She ran her finger over your heat again, flicking your clit gently this time.

There was slick surely running down your thighs, but you couldn't focus on that. The thought of making a mess in Abby's bed sounded amazing to you, though.

She kept going with that motion, stopping if you squirmed too much. "Abby.. fuck, I-I need it, please." You begged as she circled your clit rather roughly.

"Need what, princess?" You wanted to pretend like you were sick of the teasing, but you weren't. You liked how desperate she was making you, you wanted to beg for her to touch you. You wanted her to praise you for everything that you did right.

"Need you," you groaned.

"Atta girl," she kissed your thigh as she started dragging your underwear off. "You're doing so well, baby." Her eyes went wide as she realized actually how wet you were, basking in the idea that it was all for her.

Abby started sucking a hickey into your thigh as you whined under her, grabbing at her braid. "Abby," you pulled her up. "Take out your braid." She did as told, pulling the ponytail out and putting it around your wrist. She looked impossibly better with her blonde hair down.

After many more moments of teasing, she finally licked a strip up your cunt, making you throw your head back and groan. She sucked and flicked your clit, finding a perfect rhythm that you loved. It didn't take long for your stomach to tighten, but when she slowly pushed her middle finger into you, you knew you were gone.

She pumped it lightly, making sure you could take it, before adding her ring finger. She curled them, hitting something that was too much, but felt so good at the same time. "T-too much, Abby," I moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to squirm away from her fingers. She didn't stop, though, with every pump of her fingers she hit that spot, making your head spin. "Abs, ah, I'm gonna- fuck,"

"That's it, baby. Cum on my fingers." Your back arched off the bed, and your vision went white as you did as told, coming on her fingers. It felt like hours of her coaxing you through it, but in reality it had only been a couple seconds. "You did so well, princess."

You were sure you looked blatantly unattractive, covered in sweat with your hair all messed up, but Abby was looking at you like you were the only woman in the world. Like she wanted to fuck the everlasting shit out of you.

Abby, on the other hand, looked phenomenal. You wanted to take a picture of her right now and keep it forever. Make it your wallpaper, print it, fuck yourself to it. Her hair was frizzy from you yanking on it, her eyes were dark. But probably the hottest thing was the spit that was covering her chin, and it was obviously from you, which made everything so much better.

She wiped her face on the back of her hand, then laid next to you. "I want you to ride my face, pretty girl." You sat up on your knees, looking at her with wide eyes.

"But.." you wanted to, you truly did. But you knew nothing about how to do it. "What if I suffocate you?" She shrugged.

"Worth it." She sat up, tugging you forward by your hips until you were sitting in her lap. "It's easy. You won't even have to do anything but sit. I'll do the rest." She smirked as you pushed up, moving towards her face until your cunt was right over her mouth. You were suddenly conscious of everything, wondering if she would be weirded out with anything you had going on, even though she already ate you out once.

She grabbed your hips and pulled you down, making you squeak a little. You could've sworn the world stopped when she started moving her tongue. The angle was better than when you were laying down, and you could watch her. You reached down and grabbed her hair, forcing her head up. You were moaning louder than you had ever, head back with your eyes squeezed shut.

Abby was sure she was going to pass out. Not from lack of air, but from the fact that she had an absolutely gorgeous girl on her face, whining her name and begging for her to continue everything she was doing.

Abby moved one of her hands from your hip to her belt, unclipping it single handedly, and unzipping her pants. She was going to wait, rub one off after you had already left, but she couldn't anymore. She teased herself briefly before slipping two of her fingers between her folds, bucking up into her hand.

She was moaning into your pussy, using one of her hands to rub your clit. You wished she could talk because you loved her praise, but if this is what you got in return for not talking, you were fine with it.

"I'm gonna cum, baby," you ground your hips into her face as your stomach came undone and you came for the second time. You were so exhausted, so ready to curl up in her arms and go to sleep, but at the same time, you wanted to keep going, wanted to see what she'd do to you.

She tapped your thigh a few times and you wobbled up, falling into the bed next to her. "I'm tired," You tell her, fingers tracing circles on her chest. "But I want you to tie me up." You looked up at her, putting on an innocent expression, even though your thoughts were absolutely not innocent.

Abby's eyes widened. She hasn't tied someone up since she was like 20, but she was trying to take into account that you were young and still trying to figure out what you were into. And, I mean, tying you up definitely wasn't the worst thing someone could ask for.

So she did. With rope. You loved the way it felt around your wrists, loved the way you were bound to her headboard.

Abby slid her pants off, leaving her boxers and sports bra, which both fit her phenomenally. Your stomach flipped as she grabbed the strap from her nightstand and slipped it up to her hips. She came back over you, sitting up on her knees briefly while she pushed one of your legs up so that it was pressed against your chest.

She looked up at you and you gave her a nod. She gently ran the tip of the strap across your clit and down your folds, making you shiver. “Hurry up, Abs.” You groaned, pushing your hips into the air, trying to take her.

“Patience, darling.” She pushed the tip of her strap into your cunt, and the intrusion burned a little. It was as if your body wanted to push it out and keep it in at the same time. Once you could handle that, she pushed another inch in, waiting for your okay. She went inch by inch until her cock was bottomed out, all of it stretching you open and making you feel amazing.

Abby groaned, head lolling back as the strap pressed perfectly onto her clit. She pushed your other leg up to your chest, holding it softly as she started moving, pulling out just a little before thrusting back in. She wanted to go slow for you, gentle, but she could barely stop herself from fucking into you as hard and fast as she could.

The more comfortable you got, the less easy it was to contain herself. She moved faster, watching your eyes squeeze shut as you moaned. You liked her being rough, you loved how her cock rubbed against your little bundle of nerves every time she fucked into you, everything about it.

"Gonna put a baby in you, sugar," she groaned into your neck as her head fell. "What would your daddy think of that, hm?" Your moans filled the room and the headboard slamming against the wall filled the thick air of the room.

She pushed your legs apart, pressing herself farther onto you as she started sucking hickeys into your neck. She knew she was close, but she wanted to finish with you, so she held it back for as long as she could. That didn’t work very well - she came moments later, moaning into your neck as her thrusts got sloppy. You hardly noticed, too caught up with your own satisfaction.

She kept going, every roll of her hips bring both you and herself closer to your peaks. Again. Your stomach tightened and you threw your head back, screaming her name as you came around her cock. She practically collapsed on top of you as her orgasm hit her hard and fast.

She laid on you for a second before pulling out and rolling off, taking the strap off and tossing it off the bed. “Was that everything you wanted it to be, pretty girl?” She asked, still panting as she wiped a thin layer of sweat off of her forehead.

“Even better.” You said, throwing your arm over your arms. “What do we do now?” You asked lazily, praying to god that she wouldn’t kick you out. That would be extremely embarrassing.

“All you have to do is lay there and look pretty, hun.” She purred. She could make you wet again just from her words, even though you had absolutely nothing left in you. The bed shifted as she got up, walking into the bathroom. The water ran and you sat up, watching as she came back with a cloth hand towel.

Wordlessly, she grabbed your legs and spread them, wiping you off everywhere. You hummed as the warm water washed everything off of you, relaxing into her touch. She massaged your legs and even went as far as giving you a pair of boxers and a t-shirt so that you could sleep over. “Do you do this for all the girls you have over?” You asked. Your back was pressed to her front, her arm thrown over your waist.

“Nah,” she kissed your neck. “Only you, baby. Only you.”

a/n: thanks for reading <333 requests are open

[archangeldyke-all]

I miss CEO Sevika :(

What about Reader and Sevika going to...idk a dinner party/charity event with multiple companies in attendance. Sevika is one of the speakers for the night and while she's nervous, she knocks it out of the park. Meanwhile Reader is like "wow my wife is such a fucking boss and so hot for doing that on stage, I can't NOT suck her off and get fucked in a random, out of the way bathroom right afterwards."

i was thinking about this ask the entire time she was up there by vander's statue giving her speech. my sweet baby.

men and minors dni

sometimes, you forget just how important sevika's work is. most days you're stuck in your office together, making phone calls and signing documents.

but it's nights like this, when sevika's company has its annual ball, that you're hit with how much sevika does for the community.

the company built on the idea of giving low income communities low interest loans to build businesses and homes. there're several neighborhoods and families that you know personally that have had their lives transformed by sevika's work. but it's not just that.

it's parks built on the company's dime, community centers and pools and basketball courts sponsored by sevika herself. it's the team of social workers and accountants sevika's carefully hired over the years, who make sure that your clients are trained in financial literacy so they don't fall through the cracks. it's underfunded public schools-- the schools you went to as a kid-- being sent busload after busload of books and computers and supplies from your wife. it's medical bills being paid off by a mysterious, 'anonymous' source--the chickenscratch on the checks all matching your wife's.

and nights like this, with each lead team member of all the departments giving presentations of the differences they've made in the community this year, where it really hits you how incredible your wife is.

your poor wife. sevika's currently on the brink of passing out from her nerves, a glass of whiskey shakily clutched in her palms as she waits behind the stage. "baby." you coo, reaching up to cup her face.

sevika winces and pouts in your hold. "i hate public speaking." she whines. you chuckle.

"i know, love." you sigh. you'd give this speech for her if you could-- but it's kinda a requirement that the ceo speak at these big events. "it's just five minutes, talk about the good you've done this year, get some claps, get some laughs, then we can bail." you promise her.

sevika pouts even more, slouching down against you. "you remember the first time we put one of these shitshows on?" she asks.

you giggle and nod.

your second year working for sevika, a few months into dating, and the company had the first of it's now notorious annual balls. of course, back then it wasn't quite as sophisticated as today's is, but it was pretty memorable. after her speech (which she nailed, because despite how much she hates it sevika is good at talking) sevika ran off the stage, high on the applause she'd received, and practically leapt into your arms where you stood backstage. "fuck i can't believe i did that." she whispered against your scalp. "and they liked it!" she laughs.

you giggled and kissed her cheek. "course they liked it, you're very easy to like."

and then sevika said the words you'd been dying to hear her say, the words you were trying desprately to keep inside your throat until she was ready. "i couldn't've done it without you, y'know." she whispered. your smile got softer, and sevika leaned impossibly closer to you. "you kinda scare the shit outta me and... i think i'm in love with you."

you had just grinned and kissed her, mumbling a teasing "you think or you know?" against her lips.

and here you are, nearly ten years later, on the same little patch of floor backstage of your favorite venue, smiling up at your wife.

"course i remember, baby. one of the best moments in my life. right up there with meeting you 'n marrying you. think it'll be in the little montage that flashes before my eyes once i die." you say, giggling.

sevika smiles sweetly and kisses you. "yeah, me too." she whispers.

you hold her for a moment, hoping the touch will help her relax a bit, both of you swaying gently in your dark little corner as you wait for seamus to finish his speech and introduce sevika. "you're gonna do amazing, y'know. you do every year."

"ugh. i know." sevika huffs against you. you giggle.

"so then why are you so worried?" you ask. sevika shrugs against you.

"just. 's a lotta people. and i like when you baby me." she says.

you burst into laughter just as the audience on the other side of the stage bursts into applause. sevika groans, and you give her one last good squeeze and a smooch to her cheek before pushing her toward the stage. "go ahead baby. you got this." you encourage her. sevika smiles shyly at you, and you curse. "shit, sev, wait! i left a kiss mark on your cheek!" you squeak, scrambling to grab her wrist and wipe off the lipstick that must've transferred from her lips to your own, then onto her cheek.

sevika ducks out of her hold, though, her smile only growing. "good. let 'em see it." she says, winking at you before ducking under a curtain and out onto the stage.

the crowd bursts into applause at her appearance, and your heart melts as her words sink in.

she's such a fucking sap. you love her so much you think you might explode.

she nails it, because of course she does. by the time she walks back off stage, there are literally people chanting her name, like she's a rockstar or something.

you intend to tease her about it, but then you see her and her sweet shy smile, your very obvious kiss mark on her cheek, and her hands nervously clutching her note cards, and something ravenous courses through your bloodstream.

you nearly tackle her to the floor as you launch forward to kiss her. sevika gasps, and her notecards go flying as her hands reach up to hold you tight. fuck you love her. she's the most incredible woman you've ever met.

"sev." you whisper between kisses you can't stop pressing to her skin. "sevika."

"y-yeah?" she asks, her voice squeaky and excited.

"can i blow you in the bathroom, please?" you ask. "want you so fuckin' bad."

sevika shivers full bodied and lets out a shudder before she grabs your wrist and starts sprinting toward the bathroom. you cackle the entire way.

your favorite thing about this venue is that they have plenty of single stall bathrooms. you and sevika have used this feature to your convenience many times over the years.

sevika's already rock hard in her trousers by the time you lock the door and pin her to the wall. she's clawing at you, whimpering as she tries to catch your lips in a kiss. you giggle, cupping her jaw and kissing her soundly, shoving your tongue in her mouth to calm her down a bit.

sevika sighs heavily, and you pull away, gasping a breath before dropping to your knees.

"fuck. i'm not gonna last, baby, fuck." sevika whines as you paw at her pants. you giggle.

"you better. want you to cum inside my cunt, love." you say.

sevika makes a pained noise, and her dick jumps in her boxers. you laugh. "you better touch yourself while you're suckin' me then." she says. "want you to cum with me."

it's your turn to shiver. you claw at her boxers, a little growl escaping you when her cock's finally revealed to you. "fuck." you grunt, before leaning forward and just pressing your face against her cock.

sevika sighs dreamily, reaching down to cup your face as you nuzzle her dick. "so pretty on your knees." she whispers. you smile up at her. "lemme see you touch yourself." sevika requests. you shove a hand down your waistband, rubbing your wet clit with your fingers as you rub your face against her length. "that's it, baby. fuck. now put your mouth on me, love."

you're needy for her, so needy that you take a little too much of her at once, gagging loudly on her cock.

sevika moans at the feeling then laughs at the embarrassment on your face when you pull back and catch your breath before trying again.

"don' laugh at me." you pout, spitting on her dick and jerking her while you blink back your tears.

"'s just cute baby. so fuckin' needy for me you choke yourself on it." she sighs.

you shiver a little. you can't really deny that. "you did amazing, by the way." you whisper. "you always do."

sevika's shoulders scrunch up to her ears, and her eyes dart away from yours. you giggle. "shush. you aren't supposed to be talking right now."

you laugh and kiss her wrist, then try again, taking her back in your mouth and slowly working down her cock.

sevika melts against the wall behind her, and her eyes fly back to yours. you hum around her and she groans. "shit, i'm not gonna last, baby, fuck." sevika whines as she starts thrusting into her mouth.

drool is trailing down your chin and into a puddle on the floor, and when sevika's thigh starts shaking you sink two fingers into your cunt, getting ready to take her.

"fuck, i love you." sevika whines. "i love you so much, baby, love your fuckin' mouth, love fuckin' your mouth--" she cuts herself off with a little giggle, and then she groans. "off-- off-- pull off baby, i'm gonnahh!" sevika shudders as you pull away right before her orgasm. she glares down at you, and you giggle, kissing her clothed thigh. "get up here." she growls, tugging you to your feet and roughly shoving you back against the sink.

you grin, shimmying out of your pants with sevika's help, kissing her anywhere you can reach as she hauls you up.

"you ready for me?" she asks, rubbing her cock against your soaked folds. you whine and nod.

"been ready for you since you put that suit on." you tease.

sevika just chuckles and pushes in, both of you groaning at the feeling.

"oh fuck, please tell me you're close." sevika whines, ducking down to bite at your neck as she starts hammering into you.

your hand flies to your clit, rubbing quick little circles against it in time with her thrusts. "s-so close." you whimper.

sevika shivers at your answer, then lifts up to kiss you on the lips. "i love you so much." she whispers.

"p-please cum inside me, sev, wanna make you feel good."

"y-you always do baby, fuck!" she shouts as she fills you up, cumming and shivering against you.

you grin, satisfaction and pleasure filling you equally until you're falling apart around her, laughing and moaning as you pull sevika to your chest.

"you really did do amazing, you know." you sigh after you catch your breath.

sevika smiles against you. "i know. practiced really hard last night, my wife finds it sexy when i give speeches."

"your wife finds it sexy when you do anything, love." you correct her. she grins.

"can we go home now?" she asks.

you giggle and nod. "kinda have to babe. my shirts covered in drool, and i'm sure we got cum somewhere on your pants or something." you say.

sevika cackles.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone

[rosieposey-torturedpoet]

As someone who has had an 104 (40 for my celsuis folks) fever: I just thought it would be fun to document some things I experienced but never see in fever prompts (also this is all personal experience so I assume it's 'medically accurate' because it literally happened to me but idk do what you want)

-My energy levels were like being on a roller coaster; I would be half dead for an hour or two, laying under layers of blankets and would then have five minutes of energy pumping through my veins. I stayed home from school that day and I remember feeling awful in the morning, I took a nap, and then was up and normal for a few hours. I showered, I worked on school, I scrolled on here, I listened to music. And then it plummeted real fast: I remember trying to focus on an assignment and then getting a massive headache and feeling light-headed so I laid down and covered myself in blankets and I was half-dead for basically the rest of the day

And I think that should be used more often in whump. Imagine Caretaker checking in on Whumpee: who was dead asleep, cold yet sweating, and melting into the bed; only to see them up and about 30 minutes later getting food or a glass of water like they didn't just look like a person on their death bed: then Caretaker's like 'dude what the, get back to bed you idiot, you're sick' and Whumpees just like '???? I feel fine?' and then 30 minutes later Whumpee is back where they started, stuck in a vicious cycle

-I know we've all seen the 'such high fever that they're deliriously emotional' but sweetheart I don't even think I was that delirious and that was probably one of my most emotional days of my life; I would get mad, then angry, then I would want to cry, and then I would just go back to neutral: I think I remember being on the verge of tears because of my covers not cooperating

-I WAS SO COLD. I WAS FREEZING MY BUTT OFF. I always see fevers that make Whumpee feel hot but that was NOT me, I remember literally shivering even though I had MULTIPLE layers on and I low-key don't know why because I also assumed that it would feel hot while being on the verge of being baked alive in your own body but that's just me

And that's all pookies

(If anyone is a medical professional or smth and has the science behind any of my symptoms, please reblog/comment/message me privately about it because I am genuinely curious)

[ddejavvu]

Doctor's Note - Sodapop Curtis x Reader

summary: you stand soda up, accidentally

contents/warnings: soda is somewhere around 18-19, mentions of his failed relationship w sandy, distrust/miscommunication, angst -> fluff. based on my very painful experience this morning with crippling back pain

send me requests for the outsiders!

Selfishly, sometimes you wonder what it would have been like to date Sodapop before he'd met Sandy. When he was more carefree, when he wasn't glancing at any man you talked to just a second too long. He's not possessive- and even if he is, he doesn't enforce it. But you know he's wary, and you know it's her fault.

Darrel had warned Soda to stay away from girls for a while, to give himself a break. And he had. Two long years later his hiatus was broken when you'd come into the DX fiending for a coke, and when you'd asked, 'Do you know where I could find a soda 'round here?' his eyes had glimmered with opportunity, and he'd pointed proudly to his nametag.

"Right here, ma'am. No caffeine in me but I could keep 'ya up all night if you want me to."

It had been so wildly crass, so insanely audacious that you'd burst out laughing, both from the absurdity of his name and the brashness of his comment. He'd apologized for it, too, twenty minutes into your conversation that lasted an hour.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier. I mean- I don't usually come on strong like that. Couldn't stop myself- prolly got it from my friend Two-Bit, he's always crackin' jokes like that. Hope you didn't think it was greasy."

"I think it was very greasy," You'd laughed, tilting your chin towards the tin of hair grease abandoned at the other end of the counter, "I thought that was the whole point."

"That's my buddy Steve's", Soda had told you, light dancing in his eyes as he readjusted his elbows on the counter to lean further towards you, "He does these real fancy swirls in his hair, and I've been able to do 'em a few times, but mainly I just slick mine back, and half the time I don't even grease it anyways because I'm just bummin' round the house so there's no need. My other friend-"

He was a natural-born talker, and you'd been just as caught up with talking yourself as you were with listening to him. It had taken the reappearance of his aforementioned coworker, Steve, for you to glance at the clock, and realize that you were 40 minutes past the time you should have been back at work from your lunch break.

You're surprised you hadn't scared Sodapop off with your swearing alone, but you'd managed to scribble your number onto his hand before you'd left. You hadn't even remembered to buy a drink, but he'd brought you one when he showed up for your first date.

Now, three weeks later, you're getting ready to show up to his house. This is a big thing: you're meeting his brothers. He's told you so much about them you feel like you know them, and he's also given you your fair share of warnings, too. Darry's too stern sometimes, and it might take a while for him to warm up to you. Ponyboy's an awkward teen, and on top of it, he'd trusted Sandy- they all had. You know you've gotta prove yourself better than her, and you're starting with some sweet perfume and a bundle of flowers for their dining table.

--

"Get your bum ass off the couch and vacuum," Soda's hands shove roughly at Ponyboy's thighs, "She's gonna be here in thirty minutes!"

"Jeez, Soda, she's not my girlfriend," Ponyboy grumbles, but he stands and heads for the closet where the vacuum lies all the same, "Don't understand why I have to be the one cleanin'."

"'Cause Darry's the one cookin'." Soda glares at him, "And I'm cleaning too. I've been cleaning for days."

"Bathroom looks good, little man." Darry voices his approval from the kitchen, "Thought I was gonna die of shock when I realized you'd scrubbed down the toilet."

Not much conversation is heard over Ponyboy's aggressive vacuuming, but Soda calls the cleaning at five minutes to your arrival time.

"Okay. Rules again?" He looks expectantly at his brothers, and Darry looks irritated that he's being grilled this time.

"No judging." Ponyboy grumbles, but he doesn't think it's fair, because Sandy had seemed so nice and sweet, and she'd run right out on Sodapop. So he feels like he has to judge, because maybe Soda's gonna get hurt again. He doesn't want that.

"No grilling." Darry continues, equally put-out by Soda's request. He wants what's best for his brother. Sodapop's two-year long relationship drought was refreshing, and he's seen the boy blossom into a wonderful man. Still, he can't help feeling some lingering resentment towards Sandy, and he knows it's not fair to attach it to you, but he doesn't know what else to do with it.

"And no arguing at the table." He glances between Darry and Pony both warily, "I mean it, this isn't the night to discuss grades or curfew or chores. Just- be nice to her. Treat her like a real guest."

"Alright, little buddy." Darry secedes, squeezing Soda's flannel-clad shoulder slightly, "Now, you gonna go wait by the door for her?"

"No! I'm not that desperate." Soda scoffs, but Darry notices the way he flops down into his eldest brother's armchair, the only seat in the house with a view of the front walkway. Ponyboy settles himself awkwardly on the couch, watching cartoons even though there's an anxious tension in his skinny shoulders.

You're set to arrive in two minutes, and Soda's practically vibrating out of his seat. There's no sign of the cute little sundress you said you'd wear today, but that's okay, because he thinks it's so considerate of you to show up punctually versus early. if you'd come fifteen minutes earlier you would have seen him near-tears over the spot of chocolate that wouldn't rub out of the wall behind the television. Ponyboy had pointed out that there's no way you would have seen it unless you'd been wedged between their tv and the wall, but Soda was not going to invite you into a messy home.

One minute goes by, and Soda's cuticles hurt from where his nails tear at them. He tries to stop himself- after all, you wouldn't want to hold his hand if his was bleeding. But his next nervous habit becomes fiddling with the hem of his shirt, which isn't nearly as satisfying for his fingers.

He waits for what he's sure is more than a minute, which means you're due to flounce up the stairs in seconds. But he doesn't see you, and he knows Pony's watching him crane his neck every three seconds to look for you. So he tones it down- after all, he's got a 10-minute grace period at the DX for his shifts. If he can clock in at 8:10 and still be 'on time', you can show up a few minutes late.

"Any sign of her?" Darry pokes his head out of the kitchen, seeing the front door still shut. Soda shakes his head- then he catches a glimpse of your hair color outside the window. Upon further inspection, it's a stray cat. Ponyboy snorts at him, and Soda sinks back into the recliner.

Okay, so you've used up your grace period. But Soda gets it- you probably sang one too many love songs about him in the shower, and now you're tripping over your own feet trying to run to his house. Or the bus was late, or you missed it entirely, and you'll show up before the food goes cold.

Fifteen minutes go by, and Darry hovers over the finished meal, wondering whether he should plate it or not.

Twenty minutes go by, and Darry considers removing one plate from the table.

Thirty minutes go by, and Darry turns off the stove.

An hour goes by, and Pony retreats to his room for some homework time. Darry's meticulously cleaning the kitchen, but Sodapop thinks it's more because he doesn't know what to say than because he thinks you'll judge them for a grease stain on the wall.

When Darry's scrubbed the kitchen raw nearly an hour later, he pads softly over to Soda where he still rests in his armchair.

"Soda, I- listen, I don't think she's comin' tonight."

"I told her today." Soda's got his fingernail pinched between his teeth, his leg having long-since stopped its nervous bouncing, "I- I know I told her tonight, and she said she'd be here, but I-"

Darry's hand squeezes his shoulder again, this time tighter, and something awfully familiar resurges in Soda's chest where it's laid dormant for two years.

"C'mon, little buddy." Darry urges him up out of the chair, "Let's turn in early tonight."

--

Soda's not doing his best work despite having gotten eleven hours of sleep the night prior. He's sluggish and mopey, and Steve sticks him on the register so that no one risks a foolish mistake to their car. Soda stares at a knot in the wood grain, chewing on the inside of his cheek, and doesn't look up even when the entrance bell dings.

"Soda-" He hears a voice, one that he'd been waiting since last evening to hear, one that exacerbates that sickly feeling in his chest. He hasn't been able to shake it, and your face had blended with Sandy's in his nightmares last night.

"Soda, I'm- I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't you show?" He barely has the courage to look up at you, but he does, because last time he'd groveled. He'd begged, pleaded, bargained with her to stay with him, and he wasn't going to do that this time. He was going to be the man Darry wanted him to be.

"I'm sorry." You repeat, clutching a paper in your hands, brows permanently furrowed, "It was an emergency. I was getting ready, and- and all of a sudden my back started hurtin'. Real bad, Soda, I- I had to lie down on the ground."

Soda watches, interest piqued, as you stagger towards the counter, clearly limping. Sickness is replaced with worry in his chest, and he watches as you brace yourself against the register.

"My folks didn't get home for hours. I was just laying there, I- I couldn't reach the phone, I couldn't move my legs, I was just stranded there." Your voice thickens at the memory, and you sniffle absentmindedly, "Soda, I would have called you, I just- I couldn't move. I swear. I tried, Soda, I swear I tried to get to the phone, but it was so painful. And then when my parents got home they had to carry me to the car 'n all, and the emergency room took forever, and- and we didn't get home until three in the morning, and I knew you'd be sleepin' so I didn't call, and I felt so bad because I knew you'd be waiting on me, and- and I'm so sorry, Sodapop."

All at once yours and Sandy's faces come undone in his mind, and hers is cast aside as he studies yours. There's tears, big shiny ones lining your eyes, and your chin trembles slightly. You're still clutching the paper, and when you realize he's glancing at it, you gasp.

"Oh! I- um, I got you a doctor's note. I didn't want you to think I was lyin'."

You push the page towards him on the counter, and he takes it with trembling hands.

'Patient Y/N Y/L/N admitted to emergency services at 8:49 PM Wednesday, 30th July. Diagnosed with severe lumbar muscle strain. This patient is placed off of work from 7/30/1968 through 8/05/1968.

Patient would like to add that she did not intend to stand up her date with one Sodapop Patrick Curtis on Wednesday, 30th July. Patient would like to reschedule for another night. Doctor prescribes a calm, laid-back dinner date until patient recovers.'

"Had one hell of a time trying to get him to put that in there." Your sheepish voice pipes up from where Soda's reading the last words on the page, "But I told him you were a nice boy and he said there's not many of those around here. I'm sorry, again. I'm so sorry."

Lumbar muscle strain rings a bell in Soda's head. It's something Darry's definitely mentioned before, the few times they've bullied him into seeking medical attention for all of his blue collar aches and pains. He's sure if you're hurting the way Darry does sometimes, that you weren't lying about not being able to move.

You're staring at him like you're worried he'll send you away, and the piece of paper in his hands is the only thing stopping him from doing just that. But he glances down at it again, and takes a deep breath.

"It's okay. I believe you. My brother Darry, he- he pulls muscles sometimes. Don't usually see him cry, but I do when that happens. Are you okay?'

You visibly relax at his words, but something in your back must have protested the movement, because your face pinches up again.

"Um- yeah. Mostly. It hurts when I move too much." You admit, "But I had to make it down here to see you. I'm so sorry. Were you- were you angry at me?"

He doesn't think so- he was offended, he was disappointed, but most of all, he's pretty sure he was beating up on himself more than he was beating up on you. It felt like it did the first time, and he was the common denominator in both.

"No." He answers honestly, "But- uh, I think Darry probably is."

You wince, and he doesn't blame you. But he holds the note a little tighter, "But I'll tell him what happened. Like I said, he knows what that feels like. Don't worry about it, honey. You- uh, did you want to still meet them?"

"Of course! Of course," You nod eagerly, bracing your weight against the counter, "Do you still... want me to meet them?"

"Of course." He echoes, finally breaking his stoicism with a grin, a shy one as he reaches for your hand over the counter, still clutching the note in his other hand, "Can't argue with the doctor's orders."

[menagerofmischief]

I rarely indulge in these kinds of things but I love your diner and I have to place my own order!!

Served by Lando Norris

Starter - artichoke dip (thinking Fewtrell reader cause Lando had been WANTING reader)

cold appetizer

Main dish:

Sausage rolls

Sushi

Ceasar Salad

Veggie Burger

Drinks:

Fanta

Apple cider

Vodka soda

Dessert - yes

Fav GP is Singapore or Vegas was fun last year! (Im a whore for a good night race)

Dia's Diner Menu

artichoke dip brother's friend cold appetizer rough sex sausage rolls "I'll make it fit" veggie burger "Feel how hard you make me" sushi "Better quiet down you don't want them to hear us" ceaser salad "Lie to me again and you're not gonna like what happens next" fanta size kink apple cider spitting vodka redbull squirting dessert aftercare + moussaka "You look your best covered in my cum"

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!reader

TW: unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, spitting in mouth

WC: 2.3k

A/N: I kid you not, I screamed when I got this request. I was so happy to write something for you, hope you enjoy it!

❀

“You’re like a fucking dog, Norris!” I say, bringing my hands up to shield by face as Lando shakes his head, droplets of water from his wet hair spraying onto me.

Lando has been best friends with my brother, Max, for practically as long as I can remember. He was always there and he was everywhere. From family dinner to family vacations, you name it, he’s attended it with my brother.

He’s been around for every awkward phase of my life and every especially embarrassing moment. I wasn’t blind, I’ve always thought he was attractive and it would be a lie to say I’ve never had feelings for him. 

But I never dared to say anything. He was Max’s best friend which meant he was off limits or my brother would throw a hissy fit. And I’m sure he had received a speech about how I was off limits from my brother as well.

Not that it ever stopped him from letting his gaze wander over my body, studying every curve and looking way longer than he should have. Or giving me one of his infamous smirks whenever I caught him doing it.

We were currently on a summer vacation with Max and his girlfriend Pietra. It was summer break for Formula 1, so Max insisted on taking a trip with Lando and dragging me along. Summer trips meant warm places with beaches and beaches with Lando meant getting sprayed with water while I was laying on the sunbeds.

Lando laughed, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Should I bark then as well?” He asked, his lips stretching into a smirk. 

“You try that and I’ll call animal control to pick you up.” I said, rolling my eyes at him. I moved my eyes back to the book I had laying open in my lap, trying my best to focus on the words on the page instead of him.

He was still wet from the water and I couldn’t decide which part of him I wanted to look at more. His chest, with drops of water sliding down and catching along his happy trail. Or his thighs, the way his wet swim trunks hugged his muscular thighs, making them look extra delicious.

Not only that but the outline of his dick was very clear and practically begging me to look at it.

“You like what you see?” Lando asked, the tone of his voice teasing. Slowly I dragged my gaze back up to meet his, feeling my cheeks heat up a little from the embarrassment.

“The only thing bigger than your ego is the iceberg that sank the Titanic.” I told him, quickly returning my attention back to my book. Lando only laughed in response.

✿ ✿ ✿

Later that night, back in the hotel, I was laying in my bed bored out of my mind. I scrolled Instagram enough for a warning to pop up that I spent too much time on the app and then scrolled TikTok until the videos became repetitive.

At first I thought I’d go to Max’s room and annoy him but then decided against it in favor of giving him and his girlfriend some alone time. After another five minutes of fatal boredom I dragged myself out of the bed and set my way towards Lando’s room.

The door swung open after only one knock, leaving my hand still in the air as I faced Lando. He was shirtless, with a pair of shorts low enough on his waist to show just a hint of the waistband of his boxers. His hair was damp and his room just a bit steamed up - he must have showered recently.

“Expecting someone?” I asked, giving him a smirk.

“Yes,” he said, a smile stretching over his lips. “I was expecting you.”

He moved to the side to let me get into his room and closed the door behind me. I hummed, “I’m sure you were.”

“I was actually,” he said, throwing himself onto his bed. He put his hands behind his head, stretching himself and the muscles in his arms flexed.

Lando may not be the tallest guy, but he was taller than me, that’s for sure. And his build, along with all the muscles that his extensive training had formed on his body made him look even more deliciously bigger.

I was staring, my gaze fixated on his movements. This time I didn’t even have the courtesy to look ashamed of doing it.

Lando moved so quickly I barely saw it coming. One of his hands grabbed mine and pulled me onto the bed, making me land right on top of him. I gasped, bracing my hands against the mattress and looking at him with wide eyes.

In this position he was so close, closer than he’s ever been. I stared at him, my mouth slightly open as I breathed, my breath mingling with his. “Lando,” I whispered, not daring to speak at full volume, afraid the moment was just going to disappear.

His gaze went down, his eyes fixated on my lips. I didn’t allow myself any time to overthink, knowing I would end up chickening out - so I leaned down and tentatively brushed my lips against his.

Lando groaned at the contact, his hand grabbing the back on my neck and forcing me towards him even more, crashing my lips against his in a bruising kiss. His tongue stroked mine and I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, unaware of the fact that I was grinding against him.

We finally broke apart, both of us gasping for air. My cheeks felt like they were burning and there was a hint of redness on Lando’s as well.

“Fuck,” I whispered, the curse rolling off my tongue. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong -”

Lando cut me off by thrusting his hips upwards, his bulge rubbing against my clothed core. “Feel that?” Lando asked, his breath hot against my face. “Feel how hard you make me? Feel how good it is to have me rubbing against you?” I nodded breathlessly, unable to form words. “Something that feels this right, definitely can’t be wrong.”

And he’s right. It feels good, it feels right. I like him and for once I stop thinking about what everyone else wants and what they’ll think and focus on myself.

I find myself nodding along, leaning down to kiss him again. It’s desperate, passionate, full with need and longing that it seems both of us have been trying to suppress. 

“Let me take this off, yeah?” Lando asks, pulling away and reaching for the hem of my top. Wordlessly I lift my hands up, making it easier for him to slide it over my head.

I���m not wearing a bra, so the second my top is off my tits are bare for him to see. My nipples harden and I hiss when Lando palms my breasts and teasingly runs his thumb over my nipple before pinching it.

“Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles, not wasting a second longer before he’s diving down, his lips wrapping around my nipple and rolling the bug with his tongue. A moan slips past my lips and I wrap my fingers around his locks, keeping his head in place.

“Lando, please,” I whine, my voice breathy and desperate. “Want you to fuck me.”

He doesn’ need to hear more than that, suddenly he’s flipping us over, towering over me. He presses a quick kiss to my lips before going down and taking my shorts and panties off with one go.

He blows air on my pussy, making me whine and playfully slap his arm. “Stop teasing, it’s mean.”

He chuckles, his fingers slipping through my arousal and circling my entrance. “Tell me baby,” he whispers against my skin, his lips pressed to my collarbones. “How many times did you touch yourself just like this, imagining it was me instead.”

I shake my head, not wanting to admit the truth. “Didn’t,” I manage to murmur out.

He huffs, and then his fingers pinch my clit, making me buck my hips and moan at the mix of pain and pleasure. “Lie to me again, and you’re not gonna like what happens next.” His voice leaves no room for argument and I know he really means it. “Now, I think I asked you a question.”

“Too many!” I admit, a moan slipping out when his fingers begin to rub my clit in fast, harsh circles. “I don’t know! Don’t keep track of how much I do it.”

“There we go,” Lando hums, the expression on his face looking satisfied. “See how good you can behave.”

He slips two fingers in me, sliding right in with no resistance, thanks to how wet I am. Through the whole process he keeps rubbing my clit, and suddenly the pleasure doubles when he starts to thrust his fingers into me, grazing my G-spot every time.

“Lando, so good,” I moan out. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth I wish I didn’t say them because the pleasure that was building up is instantly gone as Lando pulls his fingers out and away from my clit. I’m left gasping, looking at him with a glare.

“Fuck sweetheart don’t look at me like that,” he says, his voice is hoarse. “I’ve thought about this so many times. The first time I make you cum I want it to be around my cock.”

He lifts his hand, his fingers covered in my arousal, and pops them into his mouth, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste. “Taste so good, sweetheart, come on open up.”

Instinctively I open my mouth, thinking he’s going to push his fingers into my mouth for me to taste myself. Instead he leans over me and spits into my mouth, and though barely, I can taste myself.

I moan when it hits my tongue, and lock my eyes with his before swallowing. He groans, his fingers grabbing my chin, “God, you’re such a good girl. Perfect little slut - and just for me.”

“Just for you,” I repeat, nodding my head. “Now please fuck me, Lando, it’s too much!”

Lando takes off his shorts and boxers, leaving himself bare in front of me. My eyes are instantly drawn to his cock, standing proud, the tip leaking pre-cum. My eyes widen at the size of it, he’s bigger than anyone I’ve been with before.

He must see it on my face because he cups my cheek with one hand while nestling himself between my thighs. “Don’t worry, sweet girl, I’ll make it fit.”

He pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size, pushing inch after inch inside of me until his hips are flush against mine. He looks at me for confirmation and I give him a nod to go ahead.

While he was really sweet by starting gentle and going slow until I was ready - now that he’s fucking me, he’s anything but. Lando’s thrusts are rough, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back, deep inside, his hips hitting mine over and over again.

“Lando, so good, fuck!” I moan out. My voice is high pitches and my moans are becoming louder as I am unable to control them, or think anything much in general.

Lando’s hand presses down against my mouth, instantly muffling the sound of my moans. “Better quiet down,” he growls into my ear. “Max and Pietra are in the room next door. You don’t want them to hear us do you?”

I shake my head no and Lando removes his hand. Without his hand covering my mouth it’s much harder to keep the moans and whines coming out of my lips down. 

“Lan, I’m gonna cum, please!” I plead, feeling the pleasure build up, unlike anything I’ve experienced before.

“Go on,” Lando says with a groan and I feel him twitch inside of me. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my dick.”

His words topple me over the edge and I come harder than I’ve ever cum before. It’s not until I look down and see Lando’s abdomen and half of the bed wet that I realize I squirted. Lando groans, his fingers rubbing through my fold for a moment before he brings them up to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“That was so hot baby,” he says. He thrusts into me a few more times and then pulls out, cumming all over my stomach and tits.

He looks down at me, trying to catch his breath and his eyes sparkle with a hint of something. “You always look so damn gorgeous,” he says, his fingers rubbing gentle comforting circles into my hip. “But you look your best covered in my cum.”

I stared at the ceiling, still a bit out of breath. “That was the best orgasm of my life,” I said, with a laugh.

“Guess I’ll have to give you many more then,” Lando said.

“I don’t how you’ll survive,” I teased.

“I’ll make do,” Lando replied, leaning down to kiss me sweetly. He reached for his suitcase that was next to the bed and got a what I assumed was a dirty shirt and used it to wipe his cum off my body.

After that he got another T-Shirt, this time a clean one and helped me put it on. He put his underwear back on and then crawled into the bed, next to me. He wrapped one of his arms around my stomach and placed lazy kisses on my cheek and neck.

“Want to watch a movie and order room service?” He asked, rubbing his nose against my neck.

“God, you’re perfect.”

“Thanks, I know!”

“Just play the damn movie, Lando.”

[cjlouwho]

Trust

Yesterday, you guys voted on this poll and decided that Buck and Tommy should have an argument over trust. Here is that argument:

“You don't trust me.”

“Evan, I-”

“I can't believe it,” he huffed, shaking his head. “After all this time y- you don't trust me.”

“I never said that, Evan. You're not listening to me.”

“I told you it was a mistake. Told you he misheard me and once I pushed him away he was embarrassed and very apologetic about it.”

“I still shouldn't have heard it from him!” Tommy exclaimed, his tone causing Buck to step back in surprise. In their three years together he'd only heard Tommy raise his voice one other time, and that was when he was kicking his own dad out of their home.

“I told you, Tommy, I didn't see a real reason to tell you. Vinny's new to your station, he came to the bar late, and he didn't know we were together. We were talking about dung beetles and then he asked if he could kiss me. I said 'I've got a boyfriend' but he thought I said-”

“'If you'll be my boyfriend', I know the story, Evan. I heard it from Vinny while we were in the sky! Nearly crashed the damn bird!” Tommy ran a hand over his face. “You really didn't think, for a second, that maybe you should have told me about this?”

“N- Not really. It didn't mean anything. I want- wanted to protect you.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed bitterly. “Protect me? Why do I need protection, Evan? I'm not a delicate flower. If you would have told me, I wouldn't have been caught off guard and then grounded for the rest of my shift. I could have talked to Vinny about it right as work started so he didn't go five hours thinking I was playing a psychological game with him!”

“I don't really know what you want from me, Tommy! I told you I was trying to do the right thing. I didn't cheat on you, it was a misunderstanding. You're blowing everything out of proportion and making i- it seem like I just hide stuff from you.”

“Can you blame me?!” Tommy asked. “You literally just said you wanted to protect me! So yeah, I do wonder what else you've hidden from me while using protection as an excuse.”

“There's nothing!” Buck yelled, tossing his hands up in the air. “God, this is going nowhere!”

“You're right about that.” Tommy walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up his keys.

“W- Wait, where are you-”

“I'm just going to the garage, Evan. I need a minute to think.”

“We made a promise to never walk away from an argument, Tommy!”

“You broke that promise the night we made it!” Tommy reminded him, walking down the hall and slamming the garage door shut behind him.

*****

When Tommy walked back into the house he was overwhelmed by the scent of sweetness coming from the kitchen. He entered the room slowly.

“You're baking,” he said, his voice calm and measured.

Buck shrugged. Didn't even bother to look up from the measuring cup he was filling with flour. “Force of habit.”

“I didn't leave, Evan,” Tommy said, upset to know just how nervous Buck had to be to resort to baking. Even all these years later, baking was reserved for when he felt like his world was falling apart. “I just needed a minute.”

“Two hours,” Buck corrected. “You were out there for two hours. I heard your truck start and I didn't...” His voice trailed off as he set the nearly empty container of flour on the counter.

“I was working on my engine,” Tommy explained. “Truck's been s-”

“Slow to start this week,” Buck finished with a nod. “I remember.”

Tommy walked around the counter to get closer to Buck. He placed a gentle finger under his chin and guided Buck to look up at him. “It was never about me not trusting you, Evan,” he explained. “I know you didn't want him to kiss you; he told me that. I just wish I would've heard it from you. I was caught off guard. You're my partner. I should have heard it from you.”

Buck's eyes glistened as he stared at Tommy. Tommy could see he'd been crying. It broke his heart. “I know,” he conceded. “I should have told you. I just- I didn't want work to be awkward.”

“Oh, it's definitely awkward,” Tommy replied, which got a brief smile out of Buck. It felt like a victory.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Buck said. His voice was quiet, still a bit unsure. “And I'm not hiding things from you.”

“I know,” Tommy assured him with a nod. “I know. I overreacted. I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too.”

They leaned in for a kiss at the same time, Buck closing his eyes and breathing a sigh of relief.

When Tommy pulled away, he kept Buck close, wrapping his arms around his waist. “It's a shame you can never be around anyone at the 217 ever again though,” he informed Buck playfully.

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, there was Lucy, me, and then Vinny. It's like you're a drug to that station. Everyone wants a bite of Evan.”

“Hate to break it to them,” Buck replied, his arms draping over Tommy's shoulders, “but you're the only one who gets a bite of Evan.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Not even Franks?”

“Isn't he the oldest firefighter in the LAFD?”

“Hes is,” Tommy confirmed. He pressed a chaste kiss to Buck's lips. “I know you like them older.”

“Hm,” Buck hummed, pretending to think it over. “No, sorry. You're stuck with me.”

Tommy smiled. “Good. I love you, Evan.”

“I love you too.”

After one more kiss, they let each other go. “So, the baking can be done now?” Tommy asked.

“Baking can be done. I was gonna make those caramel crunch cookies you love so much though.”

Tommy perked up at that. “Should we fight about something else so you'll still make them?”

Buck snorted out a laugh. “Get a new container of sugar from the pantry,” he ordered. “You can help.”

[problemnyatic]

Hey, do me a favor?

For Five minutes, just, let yourself off the hook. You can get back on the hook after, you don't have to forsake everything, just. Take a slow, deep breath, hold it for two whole seconds, and let it out even slower. As you exhale, put down the sky, and just, rest.

No duties, no obligations, even emotional, even social. No scrolling, no need to be your best. Just you, and five minutes where your problems are somewhere else.

You can pick up the sky in a bit. You work hard every day just to live through all that stress; just because it's normal to you doesn't mean it's not heavy.

Thank you. I love you, I really do. You can do this again later, too, if you need, or for longer. Just remember to put the sky down every once in a while, alright? It'll stay there.

Take care, I love you