Perfect Little Pet – KHJ
P: Hongjoong x afab gender neutral reader | G: smut, oneshot | Inc: cruella!au, cruella!hongjoong, assistant!reader, 'Captain', 'pet', Felix mention, journalist!Wooyoung, Yunho mention, Wooyoung/Yunho mention, set in the UK, Trafalgar Square, flaring tempers i.e. Hongjoong's, fashion studio, cruella movie-esque fashion show, Hongjoong occasionally abusing his power, wet dreams, fwb ending, a lot of British references and general mannerisms, two smut scenes | Wc: 5.9k
W: d/s tones, 'Captain' used during sex, bent over the desk, dom!Joong, sub!reader, overstim, begging, wet dreams, blowjob, cumshot on face, backshot during sex, one/two uses of the word slut, 'pet' used during sex (please let me know if I've forgotten anything, I'm writing this post up at 1 am)| R: 18+ mdni
Summary: Captain. Anyone who’s anyone knows who that is; none other but the rising name in fashion and making a name for himself for his eye-catching and punk-inspired shows. And right there in the back, is obedient little y/n, the childhood friend. The assistant to the Captain and one of the few to know Hongjoong for who he is behind the scenes, uptight and frantic and so achingly desperate to be perfect. Good thing they’re the Captain’s perfect little pet.
Min's notes: We're starting the year off strong! And you may have figured it out already, but @hee0soo, I'm your secret santa! I had so so so much fun writing this, you have no idea. When I tell you I was giggling like an idiot when you answered my question in the server, it was perfect. I hope you like reading this! And this happens to be my longest fic <33 also, 'on the dole' = on benefits hehe
There’s graphite on his hands, smudged all over the sketchbook, and Hongjoong takes another look at the plain mannequin standing by its lonesome in his office. Something’s missing, he knows it. Is it the hem? The length of the sleeves? Whatever it is, Hongjoong can’t bloody tell and it’s driving him up the wall. The designer groans, dissatisfied with own progress and discards the sketchbook on his desk. He gets up with just as much frustration, boots stomping across the floor in the direction of the balcony. His production facility looms below him, hard at work.
Almost taunting him.
“Just one more…” he mutters, taking a reluctant step back into his seat, “one more of the bloody things and I’ll be ready for runway…” Sure, it is self-imposed encouragement, but it is encouragement. Hongjoong isn’t a beggar. He’ll take what he can get. And take, of course. Until his pencil simply drags along the paper with no real goal and he snaps the dastardly thing between his sleek fingers, throwing its remains against the closest wall. It clatters to the floor just as the frustrated designer storms towards the door to his office, opening it and unleashing a powerful tension upon the production floor.
“Bring y/n up here!”
Y/n shivers from where they stand, helping move a box of supplies into the stock room. No matter how long they’ve stood by Hongjoong’s side, there is nothing that will help them get used to the sound of him barking out a command like that. A frustrated Hongjoong is a live wire – temperamental, snappy, and not someone to be approached without caution. They freeze with the box for just a moment before it’s taken out of their hands by one of the new starters.
“Captain sounds pretty miffed,” they say, pulling on the sleeve of their hoodie, “go on, I’ve got this!”
“If you’re sure…”
“Course I am luv, go on already~” And y/n is all but gently shoved out of the stock room, left to face their employer. And childhood friend.
All eyes are on y/n as they walk through the building towards those ever-familiar stairs, trying to ignore the weight of everyone’s gaze. It’s just Hongjoong, our Joongie, there’s nothing to be anxious over, their mind repeats, heels clicking along the wooden panelling amongst the unusual human silence. Seconds go by excruciatingly slowly, and finally, y/n stands in front of Hongjoong’s office. One steadying breath, and then another.
The door opens before they have a chance to knock, Hongjoong all but yanking his assistant inside and locking the door behind them both. There’s an impatient energy in the room, furthered even more by the fact y/n watches their friend pull them along to the mannequin and frantically go about putting his prized mannequin back by the window where it overlooks the production floor.
“Lean against the wall for me, will ya?” Hongjoong asks, reaching for his sketchbook once again, certain he’s found a muse in y/n. They have this gait around them that would work just so well with his new line, it would be criminal if he doesn’t capture it on paper at least once. Well, perhaps a few times, because the creativity comes back with a vengeance. His pencil glides along the cartridge paper with ease, framing y/’s silhouette perfectly and a grin erupts on his face.
Finally. Finally, he can make a start on creating the showstopper piece.
Time is but an illusion as Hongjoong works on his piece, occasionally looking up to really solidify the vision he’s got in mind. Y/n’s holding themselves just the way he needs them to, providing just the right amount of feedback and silence he needs, and Hongjoong might as well be inside a creative paradise of his own making. He’s found the right formula. He’s found his new muse, perfectly shaped in the image of y/n, his little assistant. The outfit seems to come together all on its own as he draws, each stroke of the pencil working in tandem with each other to create a look he knows will absolutely shock the viewing public in Trafalgar Square.
It’s around an hour later when the design is finally complete, Hongjoong’s mind at ease as he does one last look over everything. He’s done it. The look is perfect. There is just one thing…
He’s rather hungry now.
“Right,” he starts, setting his sketchbook down, “that’s us done here y/n, thanks again pet~”
“O-oh, it’s no prob—”
“But do get us a spot of lunch, would you? I’ve been dying to try out that new brunch café. I want either a chicken alfredo or a chicken Caesar salad, understood?” He tosses y/n his wallet as they begin to leave, turning on his heel and collapsing into his office chair with a yawn.
“Your regular coffee too, Captain?” Y/n asks. Oh, what a darling they are.
“You know me too well~ of course I want my coffee. I want them both here by the half hour.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Checking the time as they leave the café, y/n breathes a sigh of relief: they’ve got at least another fifteen minutes to make it back to the factory if they can get to Hongjoong’s favourite coffee spot before the lunchtime rush, otherwise they’ll be late. So, they make a break for it, taking extra care to leave their Captain’s lunch flat in their bag lest they have alfredo decorate the inside of the gifted Nevada Leather Weekender slung over their shoulder. The coffee spot itself is only a few metres away, less than a few minutes to run, but every second counts in the world of the Captain.
Lady Fate is on their side it seems, because there absolutely no sign of a queue, or even the beginnings of one, when y/n makes it to the coffee shop. Aurora, a quaint little place y/n remembers Hongjoong spending almost every free minute in before they watched their friend shoot to success, when they were still just two friends with a dream. Their running slows to a brisk walk as they enter, greeting the barista with a smile and getting a card ready as soon as they confirm they’re after the usual iced latte with two extra shots of espresso and a shot of vanilla. Once payment goes through and the coffee is in their hands, y/n is out of there in a heartbeat, eager to make it back in time.
“Look at you~ exactly two minutes early,” Hongjoong muses as he sees y/n walk into his office. He pockets his stopwatch, hangs his custom-made coat on the coatrack and takes his coffee. “If there’s anyone I trust to make coffee the way I like it, it’s that pretty one with the deep voice. Face of an angel, but, God, that voice?”
Oh. His lunch is on the desk, but y/n is still here.
Strange.
“Well, are you waiting for me to say something? Run along now, pet, go… oh, I don’t know, busy yourself until I need you.” He chuckles, shooing them away and waving with his fingers once y/n is finally out of the door and Hongjoong can eat his lunch in private, just the way he likes.
Y/n’s bag slides down their arm and onto the floor of their studio flat as they step inside, well-earned exhaustion lacing their bones and pulling a yawn out of their mouth as they fall onto their sofa. They’re used to running all over London for Hongjoong, sure – hell, their daily step count always passes ten thousand – but it’s the weeks leading up to one of his planned fashion event-hijackings that y/n truly feels the burn. Where they truly feel pushed to their tether.
But it’s always worth it in the end, they remind themselves in between making themselves a cup of tea, watching the kettle boil. Together, they will achieve worldwide success, their brand – Silver Light – will be in every boutique and everyone will know who the Captain is. Y/n spoons a teaspoon of sugar into the mug, pops in the teabag and pours the boiling water and milk, huffing at the connection their mind puts together.
They’re the teaspoon of sugar. Not the main event, no, but an addition to make things sweeter. To make Hongjoong’s plans sweeter.
“New sources and evidence have since come to light regarding the hijacking of Oxford Circus last week. The impromptu fashion show was caused by the organisation called Silver Light, headed by someone calling themselves the ‘Captain’, who witnesses say was armed with a cane, yet no one has been harmed. Following an insider comment…”
The rest of the news story plays on tv, y/n’s interest piqued when they recognise the journalist behind it all. One of Hongjoong’s newer friends, a trusted insider working for the BBC that y/n’s met a good few times. They grab their phone from its charger, unplugging it and dialling the number they’re looking for. It’s a few seconds before they hear the call pick up on the other end of the line.
“Can it be~?” Wooyoung’s voice sings through the phone, “the Captain’s assistant is calling little ol’ me~?”
“Good evening to you too, Wooyoung.” Y/n laughs, ever fond of the charming journalist. “I’m watching your news report tonight, my… you know just how to create the right kind of excitement. A master with words, one would say. Just how do you it~?”
“Y/n, darling,” y/n can almost see the playful rolling of the journalist’s eyes, “you’re flattering me, you know? But flattery gets you everywhere with me, so thank you ever so much.”
The conversation goes on for another half hour, y/n giving Wooyoung all the subtle information he needs to create the next buzz around Silver Light’s next big show. There needs to be a sizable crowd for Trafalgar next week, and Wooyoung is just the right person to weave his words and create that buzz y/n knows Hongjoong is looking for. All manner of press and paparazzi should be there; Silver Light needs to be on the front cover of every broadsheet and tabloid in England.
And when they switch to video call so Wooyoung can jot everything down, y/n chooses to ignore the knowing glance sent their way. They’ve had this conversation before, plenty of times even – concern that all of y/n’s efforts aren’t their own will, that Hongjoong’s somehow forcing them to be his assistant. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
They make themselves another cup of tea, and sigh when Wooyoung still refuses to back down.
“Woo, I know that look,” they sigh, already knowing what comes next. The concern, the lecturing. The you’re being his servant, y/n, you deserve more than that. “This isn’t something Hongjoong is making me do, I really do want Silver Light to succeed. This is my dream too, even if it doesn't look like I want it as much as he does, or it looks like he’s forcing me.”
“Y/n…”
“Have a little faith in me, hm?” They bargain. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“If you say so—” Wooyoung’s gaze snaps to something above the camera, “oh, Yunho’s home, he brought food! See you soon y/n~”
“See you soon, say hi to Yunho for me.”
The call ends, and y/n is left with their thoughts, a hot cup of tea, and a muted news channel playing on their tv. Rather than let themselves succumb to the impeding thoughts on the horizon, y/n sips on their tea, unmutes their tv and scrolls through BBC iPlayer until they find the most recent unwatched episode of MasterChef and hits play. The thought manages to persist, though.
Are they just Hongjoong’s errand runner? A simple cog in the machine that Hongjoong pays just that bit more attention to than the others?
Hongjoong’s footsteps echo along the floor as he walks through the production floor, inspecting every station as he passes them by. The Trafalgar show is but days away and he cannot afford a single error whatsoever. He’s counting on this one to be a success; Wooyoung’s articles have created the right kind of stir he needs, y/n’s been busting their ass helping him with the finer details, the last thing Hongjoong needs is his plan falling apart.
So why the fuck can he see someone stitching a button incorrectly?
“You!” He barks, storming over to the unsuspecting employee, fury lining his brows. It stuns the rest of the room into silence, terror in their eyes as they watch. “Are you trying to ruin this week’s show?! Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”
They shiver, the poor thing, watching as Hongjoong furiously inspects the garment for any more errors. It’s a simple mistake really, a small oversight but they know better. Everyone at Silver Light knows better:
Captain doesn’t give second chances.
But then Hongjoong smiles. Not a genuine one by any means, no, but something that’s a little too sweet.
“What’s your name, darling?”
“M-my name is Felix, Captain—” whatever Felix tries to say is cut off by a heart-attack inducing bang, Hongjoong’s cane slamming down on their workstation in the blink of an eye. The shock sends Felix tumbling, and they prick their thumb on a fashion pin, droplets of blood staining the floor where they stand.
“Oh, just get out!”
“Captain, wait! P-please!”
“You’re fired, get out!”
A pin-drop silence echoes through the building, Hongjoong’s frustration palpable to everyone watching. The workstation is unmanned now, no one remaining to take the task, yet the buttons still need to be taken out and resewn on. Properly, this time. Exhaling, Hongjoong slips his cap off in favour of brushing his hand through his hair, the black and white split-dye messing up and framing his face.
What he needs right now, is y/n to make his problem go away. To be his reliable ally and fix the problem in his way.
He pats his coat down, looking for his phone and almost wants to cry out in relief when he finds the infernal device in his back pocket. A deep breath slips past his lips, and he calls y/n.
And like the angel they are, y/n picks up.
“…Joong?” They rasp out, clearly still tired. “It’s my day off, is everything alright over there?”
No, everything is not alright, Hongjoong wants to rant, the stress itching away at under his skin.
“I really, really wish it was, pet. How fast can you get here?” He asks, praying that the rustling he hears from the other end is y/n changing into their usual work outfit.
“Y/n? Pet?”
“Still here!” They call out, and Hongjoong has half the mind to kiss them when they arrive. “Just checked the traffic, I can make it in twenty?”
“Make it fifteen and I’ll get you that pretty gem of a car you’ve had your eye on.” Hongjoong offers, huffing out a laugh when y/n readily agrees, and the line goes dead seconds later. They’re on their way to Silver Light, and all his problems will be solved. For whom else can Kim Hongjoong rely on other than his y/n?
The clock ticks by agonisingly slowly, teasing Captain with every second that y/n is still on their way. Sure, he can fix this specific coat that Felix so wonderfully fucked up, but there’s a whole line of these that need to be done, and the designer is only human. He can’t do this alone. But he can relax because as soon as Captain resigns himself to hand-stitching every coat, y/n comes in through the door, hurrying over to the workstation and shoo-ing Captain away.
“And you fired him?! Over a button?!” Y/n asks, completely baffled as they listen to Hongjoong rant while they’re stitching the buttons properly. “You really have lost your marbles, Kim Hongjoong.”
“But you still came to my aid! Y/n, you know I couldn’t do all of this without you~” They deadpan, scoffing with smile they can’t control when Hongjoong latches himself onto their back in gratitude. “You’ll be able to handle doing the rest of the coat buttons, right?
Y/n rolls their eyes. They can handle it.
“Bring Felix back, and I’ll stay until the end of the day,” they bargain.
“Deal!”
Y/n doesn’t regret offering to help Hongjoong, really, they don’t, but they have a day off in the middle of the week for a reason. Exhaustion nips away them as they finish the last of the coat buttons, hanging the last one on the rack and patting the sleep out of their face as best they can. Felix is back inside, replacing y/n at his workstation with a meek smile and y/n doesn’t know whether to be happy the young man is back or give the split-dyed designer running the entire outfit a piece of their mind—
And Hongjoong’s calling them into his office.
There’s a corkboard standing when they enter, Hongjoong pinning post-its with various last-minute details. It’s chaotic — more so than usual. Y/n takes a few steps towards the board, reading Hongjoong’s ideas and avoiding the eccentric designer running circles around them.
“Why the last-second rush around?” They ask, still obediently helping Hongjoong sort out his mismatch of written thoughts. “I thought we figured all the details? You’re going to smash the event, Joong, I know what you’re capable of.”
“Awe, thanks y/n~” Hongjoong pats their shoulder. “Your unwavering faith in me is awe inspiring~”
“Oh, shut up,” y/n laughs, then yawns. Bloody hell, they’re tired. “I know I said I was going to stay for the rest of the day, but I’m asleep on my feet here... I can come in tomorrow?” It’s a risky bargain trying to convince Hongjoong like this, but it’s worth a try.
“Y/n, pet... You’re just fine, just sit in here for a bit,” and there goes their chance at rest as Hongjoong admonishes them. “And I need that brilliant mind of yours for later; can’t have you sitting at home, now can we~?”
No, no he can’t apparently. So, y/n stays, because of course they do.
But now it’s a day before the big hijack, at the god-awful time of one in the morning and Hongjoong is still deliberating over what to wear for the event, lovingly dubbed Project Trafalgar by his darling y/n. Y/n, who answered his messages only half an hour before and watches Hongjoong run around from their spot on his bed, legs crossed and looking oh so cute.
So easily corruptible. But he stores that thought away.
Hongjoong holds up one of his favourite blazers for y/n, a navy cropped piece he’s admittedly worn far too many times. It’s supposed to go with the rest of his outfit that’s already spent a good few hours working on, one that’s going to blow people’s minds away when he reveals himself once Project Trafalgar finishes successfully. Y/n tilts their head, examining the clothing and giving a sleepy thumbs up, nodding their head as they approve of his choices.
“You know~” Hongjoong sings as he goes to hang the blazer up in preparation for tomorrow. “Sometimes I think you’re the true genius behind our success, you always know just how to make everything look absolutely perfect.”
Y/n laughs, and Hongjoong wants to hear more of it.
“Is that Kim Hongjoong appreciating me I hear?” They tease, and Hongjoong gets to hear more of that endearing laugh when he mock-glares in their direction. “I’m just taking the mick, relax. I appreciate what you said, this is important to me. Silver Light and yourself.”
“You’re important me to me too, pet.” And it’s true.
His outfit hung up and decided, Hongjoong finally starts to feel the pull of exhaustion himself. Y/n really wasn’t lying when they said the designer was going to crash from his adrenaline high. He stretches, lithe and cat-like, and disappears into his ensuite to change into something a bit more… suitable for sleeping after an all-nighter putting together his outfit. His cleanser and other nighttime hygiene products are on the shelf above the sink, and Hongjoong figures that he might as well get started removing the stress of the day from his face.
“Y/n, darling,” he starts, “do you think that—”
Hongjoong stops talking when he gets no answering noise in return, and he pokes his head out of his bathroom. Y/n is asleep. He chuckles; of course, y/n is asleep because unlike himself, y/n actually has a normal sleep schedule.
So, he forgoes the question was going to ask them in favour of heading to his bed, lifting’s y/n’s head and resting it on his lap after he sits down. Their hair is soft, he finds, loosely getting his fingers tangled as he finds a strange comfort in the moment he's found himself in. The silence doesn’t help either; letting Hongjoong’s mind spill out words of gratitude he knows his pride would never let him say. It’s better that way, anyway.
But Captain isn’t entirely devoid of basic human empathy.
“Get some rest, pet,” he mutters, “you earned it, my busy little assistant.”
Hongjoong shivers, his head thrown back on the sofa of his flat as he watches y/n through near-shut eyes. They’ve got the head of his cock in their mouth, swirling their tongue around the tip and good lord does Hongjoong want to just buck his hips into y/n’s warm, pretty mouth and—
Not yet. Not if he wants to stretch this out and enjoy it just that little bit longer.
But apparently, he isn’t the only impatient one in the room because y/n wastes no time in getting more of his length inside their mouth, hand wrapping around the remainder. Cold hands and a warm mouth are a killer combination, and Hongjoong shivers with a groan, bucking his hips forward and enjoying the sound of y/n’s muffled surprise.
“Don’t you start acting like that, pet,” he says, reaching down to grab their hair. He gives a few testing thrusts and fuck does he want more. “You’re just as eager as I am, you and I both bloody well know that.”
A rhythm develops, one that has sinful noises bouncing around Hongjoong’s flat and a coil of heat building in his abdomen, his orgasm drawing closer by the minute. Y/n’s moans send vibrations up his cock, and it’s really not all that fair. Not when he’s trying so hard not to just shoot his load down y/n’s pretty throat.
But fuck if y/n isn’t trying to suck his soul out, their criminally talented tongue making his cock twitch. Higher and higher his voice climbs, until his hips are twitching, breaking his rhythm and Hongjoong wraps his legs around y/n’s back, gently forcing them to look him in the eye.
“Where do you want it, pet?” He’s met with y/n’s questioning blink before they tap their face and their chest. “Fucking tease, want me to paint you in my cum? That right, baby?”
They nod, pulling themselves of Hongjoong and yanking off their top in record time. His cock is in their mouth again, twitching as the coil builds and builds, until Hongjoong pulls out, pulling y/n’s face back and coming with a shout of their name.
“Fuck, darling...that was—"
Y/n’s startled awake when Hongjoong shoots up out of bed, watching through tired eyes as the frazzled man looks around the bedroom. They do the same, deciding under the cloud of sleep to not question how and why they ended up in the same bed, but whatever time it is, is no humane time to be awake. So, y/n pads around for their phone, checks the time, and groans.
It’s three in the morning.
“Joong...everything okay?” They ask, shrugging the cover over their face, eager to return to sleep.
“Hm? Oh— yes, yes... everything’s fine, just have Trafalgar on my mind.” Of course, he does. They roll their eyes, an affectionate chuckle and reach over to yank him back down, filing away the sound of Hongjoong’s squeak in the depths of their mind.
“Go back to sleep, love…it’s too early for you to fret.” Y/n says, the comfort of their words wrapped in the inviting warmth of sleep. They fall back asleep just as well, quickly enough that they miss the tint on Hongjoong’s face and his mumbled agreement.
There is all but one precious hour until Project Trafalgar is underway, and Captain has been fidgeting with his hands for the last half of it. He goes through every step of the process once, twice and he’s about to go through it a third time when Captain feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s y/n, and he takes a few deep breaths as per their instructions as his mind hits the breaks on his fretting.
“Captain, you’re doing it again.” They admonish. He blinks; he’s doing what? “Bloody hell, you’re the greatest fashion visionary in British history, this will go perfectly. Ok?”
“Ok.” Captain nods, maintaining eye contact. Reliable little y/n, always by his side. He keeps up with the eye contact, looking into the eyes watching him with so much confidence and unbridled trust that he can feel the confidence resurface under his own skin.
And then y/n leans forward to peck his lips, and his heart does a thing.
“Go on, show them all who Silver Light’s captain is.” Y/n chuckles.
“Are you saying they forgot, pet?” Hongjoong counters, the need to fret over last minute details gone entirely. “Tonight, will be unforgettable, I can promise you that much pet. Make sure you’re watching, hm?”
And watch, y/n does, as they stay hidden away from the obvious police presence Silver Light seems to attract and watch as Captain’s show begins. The music is loud, attention-grabbing and y/n feels excitement light up every nerve in their body. Months. Months and months of sweat, blood and tears has gone into every moment, and they watch the models come into view, each wearing an individual piece from Captain’s new line. It’s gorgeous. Utterly stunning, and y/n can’t help but snap a few pictures and record a quick video.
They’re going to need material to send to Wooyoung, after all.
The next half of the models make their appearance, and y/n very much joins the crowd’s cheering, clapping as each piece is given its moment and basking in the theatrics of it all. Everything sings with Hongjoong’s personal touch. It’s dramatic and elegant and everything that y/n knows to be the essence of Hongjoong’s taste and the Silver Light brand. The crowds are loud, and y/n uses the opportunity to slip away unnoticed from the police and the general public, back into the safehouse Silver Light had so kindly borrowed for tonight’s event. Sure, they’re going to miss when Hongjoong reveals himself and scatters leaflets inviting everyone to purchase an item from his collection, but they’ve seen that all before.
And then they fall asleep on the closest sofa.
Hongjoong bounces in with excitement as he pushes the door of the safehouse wide open, the leftover adrenaline coursing through his veins. He laughs, victorious and gleeful before yanking a now wide-awake y/n.
“Someone looks happy~” they comment, and Hongjoong stops outside his makeshift office, letting his adrenaline take the lead and planting a kiss on their lips.
“Oh, y/n,” he exclaims, pushing open the door and pulling y/n inside. “You have no idea! My darling pet, I~ will be making good on that promise I made.”
And almost immediately he has y/n pressed against the wall as he captures their lips in a kiss, eager and finally getting to act on that bundle of unspoken desire in his chest. A hand is cupping their cheek, tilting y/n’s head as Hongjoong’s tongue pushes past their bottom lip, demanding entry in the only way he can. He explores the warmth he had dreamt about, a chuckle sounding in his throat as y/n’s mouths feels just as good as he had imagined.
“Perfect…” he whispers, a trail of saliva connecting their mouths as he pulls away. “my perfect, perfect y/n…”
Hongjoong gasps in pleasant surprise when y/n makes the move to attack his neck, kissing and sucking on his skin with vigour. He relents, exposing his neck for his darling y/n and busies himself with the task of removing their clothes. By simply ripping them clean off, enjoying the surprised whimper that vibrates against his neck. He pulls them back just that little bit, running his gaze across their exposed body and—
Oh, how pretty his y/n is.
The hairs on the back of y/n’s neck stand up under Hongjoong’s eyes as heavy breaths leave their lips. This is happening now, and they want it, no matter what tonight will do to their friendship with the man in front of them. Whatever lingering hesitations they’ve ever had go out the window, and y/n wastes no time themselves in removing Hongjoong’s clothes, just that bit gentler about it than him.
“Pretty little pet,” they shiver as Hongjoong whispers in their ear. “Want to be good for me, don’t you?”
And they do. They really, really do.
Somewhere in between heated touches and the new hickeys being made on their skin, y/n watches as Hongjoong sinks to his knees, grabbing the inside of their thighs and getting dangerously close to their cunt. He’s taking his time, kissing just close enough to their folds, making y/n twitch in anticipation, but it’s not enough. They want more. Y/n needs more. So, they buck their hips, chasing the feeling but whimper the moment Hongjoong pulls himself away and holds them still.
“You said you’d be good for me, pet, didn’t you?” They nod.
“Then beg. Beg for me to get my mouth on that gorgeous little cunt like the good little slut we both know you are for me.”
So, y/n begs. Pleads with Hongjoong to shove his face in between their legs and eat them out until their knees buckle, for him to push his lithe fingers inside and wring cries out of their mouth. For Hongjoong to fuck them.
Satisfied, Hongjoong digs his fingers into y/n’s thighs as he pulls their legs apart, tutting as his favourite little pet tries closing their legs, suddenly shy. What, did they think he was joking?
“Still or I leave you like this, understand?”
“Yes, yes Captain…” And Hongjoong likes that.
“You keep calling me that, pet.” He says, and wastes no time in pulling himself closer, licking a fat stripe along y/n’s folds. They’re wet, and Hongjoong goes to town, indulging himself and sucking on the sensitive flesh until his nose is buried in y/n’s cunt, drinking up the sounds of his pet’s gasps and whines, his title a song on their lips. He keeps going, bringing his fingers to y/n’s untouched clit, rubbing against the bud in achingly slow circles.
He spends minutes like this, slipping two of his fingers inside y/n’s sopping cunt and sparing little mercy as he coaxes them closer and closer to orgasm. Hongjoong’s cock is stiff in his dress pants, straining against the fabric and the taste on y/n on his tongue is going to make him fucking come if he isn’t careful. He peers up from where he’s kneeling between their legs, hooded eyes making contact with the desperation looking back at him.
“Hong— Captain! Please!” Y/n cries when Hongjoong slips a third finger inside them, hands scrambling for purchase against the wall of the office. They’re close, so achingly close and fucking dammit they need to come so badly. But Hongjoong doesn’t relent, raising a brow and watching them writhe where they stand.
“Please, what, pet?” He taunts. “Use your words like the good pet you are.”
“I— I want to come! Please, Captain, I’m so— fuck, fuck— so close, I need—” Whatever words they want to say are stolen out of their throat, replaced instead by an overwhelming pleasure that has them squeezing their eyes shut, at the mercy of Hongjoong’s will. It’s unrelenting, and soon enough their orgasm is crashing through them, shooting stars through their vision all the while Hongjoong makes them ride it out on his fingers, the man getting off his knees and pulling them into a heated kiss. They can taste themselves on his lips, and it only spurs on another wave of desire.
They’re bent over the desk when the last of the first aftershocks leave their systems, head held back by neck as Hongjoong whispers dirty promises and slides his cock into their inviting – and only a little sensitive – cunt. A second goes by, the designer allowing y/n to only just get used to it before he starts thrusting, a leisurely quick pace.
“All this time, darling,” Hongjoong groans from above them,” all this time I could have had this perfect body of yours bent over my desk. Made for me, you were, absolutely made for me.”
And fuck, aren’t they just?
Hongjoong can’t hold back anymore, and he presses his chest against y/n’s back, pounding away into their tight hole and groping their chest in his hands, nipples caught in between thumb and index finger. Y/n’s cries are only motivation, and in the few seconds it takes for him to figure out the best angle, Hongjoong decides he’s allowed to chase his own high, giving into the devil on his shoulder and biting on the soft flesh of y/n shoulder.
“It’s so much, oh god—”
“Fuck- just a little longer pet, c’mon,” he rasps, his own orgasm well within reach. “Where do you want it, hm? You can answer that much, can’t you?”
“Yes, yes, fuck— on my back, I want it on my back!” And what else is Hongjoong to do, but oblige? He fucks them into them with the slightest hint of abandon, holding y/n impossibly closer and the orgasm builds, and builds, until he’s pulling out and coming onto their back with a drawn-out moan, his hips stuttering as the waves of pleasure begin to die down.
Exhaustion makes its way into the room, but it’s welcome this time, as Hongjoong very graciously helps y/n rest on the sofa he’d luckily had moved inside the office. There’s some wipes and a towel, and he makes quick work of cleaning the both of them up, ruffling up y/n’s hair when they watch him, almost surprised.
“And what’s that look for?” He huffs, tossing the used wipes away and patting them both dry. “I’m not that bad.”
Y/n simply laughs and shakes their head. They’re rather cute sometimes.
“Just,” they gesture to the office and between the two of them, “all of this; the event, the sex, the… us, I guess? I’m going to be sore tomorrow but fuck, that was amazing.”
Hongjoong nods along as he heads over to his desk and pulls out two water bottles, handing one to y/n as he sits down beside them, the pair donning robes. Nothing but the finest cotton, of course. There’s a silence that overcomes the rooms, and Hongjoong welcomes it – y/n too, sinking into the plush cushions and eying the evidence of sex in the room.
And then Hongjoong breaks the three minutes of silence, because his mind suddenly craves an answer.
“Y/n, pet… do you think this will change anything?”
“Between us, you mean?” He nods.
“Well, you’re treating me the same way you normally do, I don’t exactly want to date you…seems pretty same-y to me.” Y/n reasons, but then they pause. “Though, the sex continuing would be a pretty nice bonus~”
Hongjoong laughs, “so our little relationship is on the dole then, is it?”
“Oh shut up, you.”
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Lukola snippet from my imagination. One cold night, Nicola and Luke are rehearsing their most intimate Season 3 scenes in his trailer when they get a little carried away...
(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')
2nd November 2022 – Salisbury (UK)
Nicola stepped out of the make-up trailer and onto the sludge that had once been a green, well-kept field. Several days of non-stop rain had not been kind to the grounds of Wilton House and wellies had become essential wear for the cast and crew. It was a bitterly cold night with a bright moon hanging overhead. Nicola pulled the big brown fleece she was wearing more tightly around herself and made her way determinedly towards his trailer.
She was equal parts exhausted and frantic. It was a strange way to feel. It had been a very long day of filming so she should want to do nothing more than go to bed but her mind would not let her rest.
After all, she had spent several hours on set with Claudia, filming some very emotional scenes that occurred between their characters. Several takes had been needed because of lighting problems and because Claudia was struggling with a chesty cough. They had finished their night seated in front of their respective vanity mirrors as the make-up team helped them scrub off the layers of foundation and lipstick, and they had talked about how desperate they were for the warmth of their beds. Nicola had not entirely lied; she was eager to be warm. Yet, sleep was the last thing on her mind.
In less than two days, she and Luke would be filming the most exposing and intimate of all their romantic scenes together. For several weeks, they had been meeting discreetly in their trailers to rehearse kissing, touching and even tentatively exploring the idea of seeing each other naked. This had been done without the knowledge or involvement of anyone else even though Lizzy had made it clear to them that the production team would not support the rehearsal of intimate scenes without a coordinator. Regardless, Nicola had felt that their extra rehearsals were giving her confidence but as the big day approached, she had been losing sleep. It did not help that since Ezra had arrived less than a week ago, she and Luke had had no time together to privately rehearse. It also really did not help that she had not seen any part of Luke under his clothes until just a few days ago. The sight of his tight abdominal muscles, the way his jeans hung just low enough for the revealing V-shape of his obliques to be visible – she shook her head as if to try and shake the image from her mind.
How am I going to have that body on top of me and act? She thought. It was not just his body. It was the fact that she already found his personality attractive – so to find him physically appealing as well would be torturous. She reasoned that exposure would help. She was just overwhelmed at seeing him in such great shape for the first time but repeatedly seeing him would surely dull the effect.
So, she had been grateful for the exchange of texts that had happened between her and Luke as she was having her hair and make-up undone for the day.
Luke N: Plans for tonight?
Nicola C: Staring at my ceiling for four hours before my alarm goes off. You?
Luke N: Wow, same.
Nicola C: Rehearsal would probably be a good idea.
Luke N: Definitely. When do you finish?
Nicola C: Being de-Peneloped in make-up right now. Can be with you in 10?
Nicola stared at her phone. She had sent him that message over half an hour ago and there had not been a response. She tapped out a message as she approached his trailer door.
Nicola C: You better not have fallen asleep.
“BOO!”
She was so engrossed in her phone that when the noise came, she squealed and jumped several inches off the ground. Her phone slipped from her hand and into the mud.
Luke was stood behind her in a black button-down t-shirt, carrying a small Styrofoam takeaway box and laughing.
“Jaysus fucking Christ!” Nicola snapped, and immediately bent down to rescue her phone.
“Oh shit, is that your phone?” The smile disappeared from his face. “Is it OK?”
Nicola peeled the phone off the ground using only the tips of her fingers. It was completely covered.
“Why would you do that?” She glared at him. The intensity of her own anger took her aback. Perhaps it was the very long day of filming or maybe it was the heightened adrenaline she had been experiencing since Ezra had arrived – either way, she was not able to do what a well-rested, clear-minded Nicola would do: laugh.
“It looks alright.” Luke spoke softly and carefully, recognising that a line may have been crossed on his part. “See, the screen’s still lighting up and there’s no cracks…”
Nicola narrowed her eyes at him. Before she was able to fully form a thought, she found herself thrusting forward, grabbing him by the arm and then smearing the gloopy mess that covered her phone across the cotton fabric of his top. He let out a shocked yelp and jumped back, pulling his arm away from her but it was too late, the front of his shirt was completely covered.
This time, Nicola laughed. He looked down at his clothes in disbelief and then at her.
“Happy now?” He sighed.
“No.” She replied, holding her phone up. “My phone is still disgusting. You’ll have to do the recording tonight.”
It was true, her phone did not look any cleaner, instead it looked like the mud had just been more evenly spread across the phone’s surface.
“Peace offering?” Luke gestured to the box in his hands. “I got us some chips.”
“You remembered the vinegar?”
“I would throw myself down in the mud right now if I hadn’t.” He attested, leading the way up his trailer steps and inside.
Nicola stepped inside and was hit with the blast of warm air from the space heater that stood by the paisley patterned sofa. Opposite this was a small kitchenette area with a sink and work surface where Luke placed the box of chips.
“Oh my God, I feel like I’m melting.” Nicola sat down, pulling the fleece off herself to reveal a black vest underneath.
“That heater only has two settings – on or off.” Luke apologized. “It’s better on then off right now.”
She watched him as he pulled out his phone from his trouser pocket and started to stage it on the work surface before him. He propped it up against a cup so that it was stood upright with the camera lens facing her on the sofa.
They had taken to filming their rehearsals so that they could watch them back together to see how their performance looked.
He started to unbutton his shirt, trying to avoid touching the dirt where possible.
Nicola watched him, hawk-eyed, as he pulled the shirt off his shoulders to reveal the very sight that she had not been able to get out of her mind.
How did he still look that ripped at the end of a day?
“I’m sending you the dry-cleaning bill.” He joked, balling the shirt up and pushing it into a laundary bag. He grabbed at a white t-shirt that was hanging off a hook behind him.
“No. Keep it off.” She noticed herself gulp as she said the words. He froze and looked at her.
“I mean… for the scene.” She continued.
“Right.” He let his arm drop away from the hook and he moved towards her.
Why was her heart racing so fast?
Jesus, he was beautiful.
He has a girlfriend. You have almost got a boyfriend. A very hot boyfriend. A boyfriend with abs. She repeated in her mind, trying to remind both her mind and body of the facts.
He sat inches from her and a mischievous smile spread across his lips. “If I remember right, we’re both topless in at least one of the scenes.”
Nicola laughed; she knew he was joking but she could not resist commenting: “These are coming out once and once only. When I’m being paid a crap-ton of money for it.”
“Should I be charging for this?” Luke looked down at himself.
“I think you should be paying me for this.” She quipped and placed a hand on his chest. She felt him shiver a little at the coldness of her touch, which amused her. They both stayed in that position for a moment, sat on the sofa, leaning towards each other, her hand on his heart. He felt warm and his heart was racing. She looked at him in surprise.
“Nervous?” She found herself asking.
“With you?” He half-smiled. “Always.”
She was not sure how to take his words. She was sure a look of confusion was spreading across her face. His heart seemed to thud even faster under her hand.
I make him nervous? She thought.
What happened next felt natural.
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against hers, one of his hands was on the back of her head, holding her face against his. It was the epitome of a closed mouth acting kiss.
They had gone through these very movements so many times, it would have been odd for it not to feel natural. Yes, this was what regular rehearsal and being in your comfort zone with your costar felt like, she was sure of it.
She was not sure how other than the fact that every part of her mouth longed for it to happen but suddenly, her tongue was in his mouth. Tentatively at first. He did not pull back. In fact, his tongue seemed to greet hers with glee. His hand gripped the back of her head even tighter, and he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her so close to himself that the hand she had placed on his chest was now squeezed between their two bodies.
Wait - what scene was this even? The question swirled very faintly in some corner of her mind that was easy to ignore.
All she cared about was how ferociously hungry he seemed to be for her. He held her so tightly it was almost as if he was afraid to loosen his grip for fear that she might slip away. His lips left hers so rarely that taking in oxygen was not the easiest thing. She didn’t care. Oxygen no longer mattered. Barely being able to breathe felt too good.
She could hear his breathless panting as he pulled the strap of her vest down and she felt the warm air of the room against her naked breast. It was the wake-up call she needed to come back into her own body.
What are we doing?
You should not be enjoying this.
The voice in her head was louder now.
What scene is this even?!
She found herself prying her lips away from his, her hand still on his chest, his heart still beating furiously.
He pulled back, breathless and looked at her.
“I-um, I…” She was at a loss for words. She knew what she wanted to say but she did not know how to say it. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking. She wanted to know what he was feeling. She wanted to ask him if he felt as crazy as she did right now? She did not say any of this.
Instead, she took a breath and pulled her vest back over her breast.
“Boobies out, time to stop.” She gave a chuckle that came off nervous when she had wanted it to come across nonchalant.
“Sorry. I, uh, I got caught up in it…” He trailed off.
The energy between them was weird. She knew it and she knew he knew it too. They had never discussed a line that could not be crossed in rehearsal. They had only agreed to try to be comfortable with each other and to try to portray the intimacy of their characters with authenticity. That was the problem though. This felt too authentic for her.
He has a girlfriend.
He has a girlfriend.
“I actually – you know, the night is just hitting me.” She sounded like a bumbling fool, but it was the best she could do in that moment. “I think I should just go to bed.”
She saw a mixture of emotions cross his face; upset, surprise, concern.
“OK.” He had settled on agreeing with her, although she could sense he had wanted to protest. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just – exhausted.” She reassured him. “Are you?”
“I could keep rehearsing but… I didn’t have a ten-hour shoot day.” He gave her a smile. “I’ll walk you to yours.”
“It’s fine, Luke.” She was already on her feet with her fleece wrapped around her. She stuck her mud-encrusted phone into her pocket.
As she headed to the door, she suddenly remembered his phone. She turned and looked over at the work surface where it stood.
“Luke – I would delete this one.” She iterated to him. He nodded.
Moments later, she was back out into the night. She was still exhausted. And her mind was still racing. In fact, it was worse now.
I really fucking like him.
And that was a problem.
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