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hannie-dul-set · 2 months ago

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fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this.

the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is.

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader. GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.” WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn. WORD COUNT. 9k.

NOTE. my goal for this fic is to make as many male characters either detestable or unesttling, and make you like them against your will. in other words, meet mark and doyoung HAHAHAHAH. this is mostly still exposition!!! establishing facts and relationships and dynamics and whatnot. more jaemin next chapter. too much jaemin, even. anyway, enjoy! CHAPTER TWO.

IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR OFF DAY TODAY. You’re on sick leave— that is, sick and tired of drafting legal papers, meeting clients, reading piles and piles of documents every single damn week, so you decided to use your once-a-month get out of jail free card to stay in bed playing Stardew Valley. It’s pre-planned. You’ve already faked sneezes and coughing fits at the office yesterday. You’ve already called your Division Chief this morning. Kim Doyoung can’t do shit when you’re allegedly bedridden and downtrodden with a fever. He can eat his own ass and suck it.

“You have a new case,” he informs you over the phone. “It’s from Nalkkeutta.”

Or so you thought.

“Hah,” a weak wheeze squirms out of your throat. “Sure. Okay. Got it.”

Motherfucking son of a bitch. Those two lines spring you out of bed immediately as though your bones have just been tased. God dammit. You’ve just managed to snag Sebastian into wedlock. How dare he throw another job at you right now? How dare he ruin your sweet, sweet honeymoon with the emotionally constipated 2D man of your dreams?

Still. It doesn’t matter if you just got married or have a collapsing lung right now. You haul your ass, get dressed, get out, and get into your car to drive to your district’s police station in a hissy fit, as per your boss, Kim Doyoung’s, instructions. This damned firm is working you like a dog, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. And neither can Kim Doyoung.

“Yes, sir, I’m on my way. Are the files ready? Can you send them to me?”

This case came from Nalkkeutta. NCT. Nal. Day. Kkeut. End. Ta. To burn. The day ends in flames. It’s a name that haunts the streets of Yeongdeungpo. It’s a name that’s synonymous with loan sharking, weapons dealing, and coughing up protection fees unless you want to get your shit rocked on an unfortunate walk home— under the guise of an honest to goodness security company to service your protective needs.

In the early 90’s, the government had a massive crackdown on gang activity and organized crime, subsequently snuffing out any emerging organized crime presence by officially criminalizing the mere act of joining a gang under the Revised Penal Code. But Nalkkeutta is relatively new. That scorching sunset symbol suddenly emerged in the district one day, around eight to nine years ago, and it’s marred the district of Yeongdeungpo with burn marks ever since.

And your life. You haven’t been lucky enough to be spared from that damned gang’s mess. In fact, you’re currently entangled with one of their messes right now.

The glass doors of the Yeongdeungpo Police Station shut behind you. You’re smacked hard in the face far too artificial lighting and sickly white walls and the words Patriotism, Justice, Honor mocking you in embossed silver. You grimace, cross your arms, divert your eyes with an impatient tap of the foot— and your arrival doesn’t exactly come unrecognized by the front desk and the others scattered around the lobby. One officer takes immediate initiative upon seeing your familiar sour expression, rustling out of a conversation to attend to you.

“Hey, attorney. How may we help you?”

You eye the man. You’ve come to know him by name— Jung Jaehyun— even without needing to take a peek at his uniform’s name tag. You spare him and yourself the small talk and jump straight to business. “I’m here to see my client,” you inform, followed by under-the-breath swears as you fumble through your phone for the e-file Doyoung had just sent because Nalkkeutt had the gall to demand you to run and fetch the bone they left behind here without even giving you the chance to look at it. Seriously. If they want you to do a good job, they should be more punctual than this. “His name is—”

Huh. You read the top line of the document. A lump forms in your throat. You read it again. Once more. And the letters neither shift nor fold, confirming with absolute certainty that you read the name of your client correctly.

It’s a name you haven’t heard of in a while. It’s name that stalked the corridors of the place you’d bid good riddance to eight years ago with a spit on the concrete ground.

“Na Jaemin.” There’s a bitter taste on your tongue when you pronounce his name— like your very digestive system can’t stomach it, rejects it, and wants to vomit it right back out. “His name is Na Jaemin.”

A nod from Jung Jaehyun. He turns his heels and leads you further into the station.

Empty footsteps echo against the slowly dimming hall leading to the private visiting rooms. The silence pricks at your memories— an uncomfortable sound you’ve grown accustomed to in the two years you’ve spent at Ganghak High School. It’s been eight damn years since you’ve graduated, yet one mention of a name reels you back into the past with a vividness that’s still as clear as the present.

In your memories, Na Jaemin was the guy who carried with him a pungent air of animosity and violence in his wake. On paper, he is your client, a member of the power-drunk gang that you’re tied by the noose with, and someone you have to defend. At present, he is sits right before you— tight-browed, tight-lipped underneath the singular light bulb hovering above the center of the table, looking as though he’s one clock tick away from flipping the table over (the only thing maintaining a safe distance between the both of you), and leaving on his own accord.

Your eyes meet. Your head snaps down to avoid his gaze.

“Good day, Na Jaemin-ssi,” you manage to choke out. “I will be your lawyer for the case against Yoon Naksung and company.”

You’re not sure how you feel when there isn’t even a click of recognition on his part when you introduce yourself and mention your name. You realize that what you’re feeling is a mixture of fear, relief, and absolute revulsion when he responds with, “So, when the fuck am I getting out?”

There’s a ring in your ears.

It’s the sound of your heart trying to escape from your chest.

You inhale sharply. Fuck. You’re not sure if you have the willpower to push through this, and you can’t even ease your nerves or melt your frozen bloodstream with a sigh because he’s staring right at you— impatient, as though he’s counting down the seconds in his head after a one-sided declaration that you have a limited time to willingly answer before he forces it out of you by the throat.

That fucking looking in his eyes. That damned stare that instinctively triggers you to look down, look away, look anywhere else but directly at him. It’s a habit that everyone in Ganghak used to have. It’s a habit that’s still deeply instilled in your psyche, in your muscles, in your instincts to the point that despite being the person in authority at the moment, you have your head down, throat dry, and doing your damn best to read his case file despite the letters looking all wobbly from your anxiety.

Disturbing the peace. Three counts of physical injury. Less serious. Thank fuck. That makes things a little bit more hopeful, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from hell. Hell is sitting right in front of you, handcuffed because the cops have deemed his very existence a threat to public order and safety. You muster up a bit more confidence knowing he can’t reach over the table to sock you in the face.

“You’re an alleged offender, Na Jaemin-ssi. You’d have to be detained until the trial.”

Na Jaemin sneers, a kick against the table leg with a grunt. “Fucking useless,” he spits. His chair is tipped back, head turned away. You firmly press your lips together. You wish he’d just completely tip over and crash his skull and die.

For someone currently detained for a possible criminal offense, Na Jaemin sure seems very much unbothered yet annoyed at the same time. He sits relaxed on the foldable chair, shoulders slumped as if he owns the place, and he stifles out a lazy yawn— drawing attention to his busted lips and handful of scratches littered all over his cheekbone, temple, and forehead— a stark contrast to the vibrant purple splotch painting over his right jaw. You make a mental note to schedule a physical examination on his ass to record his injuries.

“But…I can make sure you don’t get arrested” You proceed with caution. His evident annoyance is flecked with momentary interest. You suck in a deep breath. “Were there any other people involved besides you and the three witnesses? Was anyone else there?”

You’re not sure what you were expecting as a response. Whatever it’d be, you just hope you get some useful information. Any sort of information. However, it seems like you just asked the wrong question.

“The fuck? Hell, if I know.”

All that interest is eradicated by a sharp glare. Na Jaemin lets out a huff and a sneer. You’re stressed. You’re beyond stressed. This is impossible. Of all people, why did it have to be him? Back then, you’d always had a feeling that he was part of something sketchy, whether it be some ragtag juvenile group or whatever the fuck. You didn’t care enough to find out. But, christ jesus, he just had to be in fucking Nalkkeut.

That sun tattoo sprawled on the back of his impatient hand— the gang’s symbol, sun rays etched into the bumps of his veins and calloused skin— tap, tap, tapping on the table with the clunk of his handcuffs tells you that he isn’t just some disposable grunt either. The urgency in Kim Doyoung’s tone when he called earlier confirms that dreadful conjecture as well. He’s up there. Way up there, and you have no choice but to fight back the urge to swallow your own tongue.

“I—I understand. That’s fine. Then…can I ask what events led to the incident?” you tentatively try to prod, taking a peek at his expression to see if you’re greenlit to ask this. His face brightens up. One corner of his mouth twitches upward, revealing a sliver of teeth. You flinch. He looks deranged.

“That bucket wearing dumbass looked me in the eye,” he starts, smiling. “So I punched him right in the socket. Then his friends decided that they wanted a beating too.”

Na Jaemin is leaning back on the flimsy plastic chair as if he’s reminiscing a happy memory. Jesus christ. He’s always been like this, but it never fails to scare you shitless. You’ve always wondered why he was so insane, but the fact that he currently is and has been in Nalkeutta explains a lot of the things you’ve seen in high school. No high schooler had any business pulling up the gate with a BMW, nor was it reasonable for anyone at your age at the time to afford at least five Cartier watches considering the neighborhood you were in. Yet Na Jaemin and his lackey’s always showed up in the days that he thought was convenient in some sort of Chanel tracksuit and dozens of gold and silver accessories.

You were lucky enough to have never gotten punched in the nose with the absurd amount of rings on his fingers— a taste which he seems to carry until today, you notice while keeping your eyes down and trained on the table. They aren’t allowed to keep any personal belongings in the holding cells, jewelry included, fucking obviously. How this guy managed to keep his is beyond your imagination.

“So, it wasn’t one-sided,” you try to confirm, try to get a good enough testimony to help his and your sorry ass in court. “Can you testify their participation during the trial?”

Wrong move. Very wrong move.

You jump in your seat when he suddenly lurches forward, chained palms slamming against the rocky table with a loud thump and a clink. “Hey, Little Miss Attorney. Listen very carefully,” he rasps. He’s leaned in closer now, making it a hundred times more difficult to keep your head down and not look him in the eye. “I beat all three of them half to death, and that’s all that matters. This question and answer bullshit is pissing me off. Are we done here? Can you fucking leave now?”

You’re scared shitless. You really are. It’s two years worth of trauma suddenly jumping you from behind a wall and throttling the air out of your lungs— of course you’re fucking terrified, and Na Jaemin can smell it like the rabid dog he is.

The problem is, he isn’t the worst of your fears. This mutt is leashed to an owner that would have your head as a dinner treat if you don’t manage to get him out of this stupid cage. So you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Damned to hell if you do, damned to an even deeper hell if you don’t.

“Na Jaemin-ssi,” you start. Your jaw is tight. It takes everything in your power to force it open and speak. “I need you to cooperate with me so I can get you out of here. Help me help you, alright?”

You’ve really been trying your best to phrase your sentences in a way that doesn’t sound demanding, that you’re leaving it hp to him because you know this bastard doesn’t like being told what to do. But your careful attempts don’t matter against a volatile son of a bitch. “Why’d you even need my help? Ain’t that shit your job?“ he barbs, a slight scoff hanging off at the end. “Seems like Mark hired a useless fucking lawyer.”

Twice. He just called you useless twice. The sheer level of offense you feel momentarily overpowers your nerves— a biting tick near the side of your temple, and you dig your fingers into the clothed skin of your thigh.

The Mark he’s referencing did not hire you because you’re useless. In fact, that guy regularly asks for you specifically whenever his gang is caught in any civil or criminal trouble because you’re the only damned attorney willing to get her hands dirty to find an out— and competent enough to pull it off in exchange for an extra zero on your commission.

Meaning, this bastard is at your mercy. And he has the audacity to piss you the fuck off.

“Strike a nerve?”

Apparently, you failed to hide the scowl polluting your expression. When you sneak a glance at Na Jaemin, he appears to be amused at his successful non-attempt to get under your skin, a lazy, lopsided grin on his face.

You get it together. Mark Lee, that fucking bastard. It had been fine for the past few months when all you’ve had to mediate were petty settlements and bails and lesser criminal offenses, but you’ve never had to deal with one of his executives directly before— who just so happened to be your high school bully, at that. You close your eyes shut, press your lips together, and release a deep breath from out of your nose as you stand up.

“I’ll handle it. There’s nothing for you to worry about, but I will need to arrange a meeting with you again before the trial.”

Na Jaemin simply shrugs and waives you off. Your tight lips force themselves into a smile as you nod and stomp your way out.

Fucking bastard, fucking piece of shit, fucking, god damn it—

You leave the station with a jumbled up head and with all your five senses screaming themselves into oblivion. Shit. Fuck. What the fuck. Had Kim Doyoing emailed you the file a lot earlier, you wouldn’t have gone here and welcomed yourself directly into hell. You could try to settle with the victims, but in case they won’t agree to a compromise, you’d have to pull a defense out of your ass considering that your client is the most uncooperative asshole you’ve ever been cursed to deal with.

It doesn’t help that spending two years in high school with Na Jaemin is reopening pages and pages of trauma that you thought you’d successfully managed to file away— stored in a safety vault in a little corner of your head that need not be reopened. But just meeting him— talking to him directly when you’ve never even dared to before— brought a rusty crowbar to that vault, mercilessly ripping it apart.

Having cancelled your off day, the car ride to your office building is spent thinking about how to scrape up a case to defend the bastard you thought you’d finally been freed from eight years ago. The bastard who’d made the last two years of high school a literal level hell of dread and desperation.

Even for Nalkkeutta, this has got to be the worst kind of torture anyone could ask for.

*‎

The next morning, Nalkkeutta’s boss is gracious enough to answer your request for a meeting.

Mark Lee shows up to the conference room of JSS’s Criminal Division, accompanied by a polite knock on the already open door, a humming smile, and a Kim Doyoung— who you very clearly don’t remember inviting to this meeting. Mark enters the room with a good morning. You nod and your eyes skip over him, flitting over to meet your boss’s gaze by the door instead. “You must be very busy, sir. What are you doing here?”

The wrinkle that forms between Doyoung’s eyebrows signifies that he very much understood your polite version of a fuck off. “I just wanted to escort our client,” he replies, adjusting his glasses.

You smile at him. “The escorting usually ends when the client has arrived at their destination.”

Doyoung’s jaw stiffens. Mark seems to be sufficiently entertained by the exchange, attention hopping back and forth between you and your boss. The latter surrenders and ends the episode with a sigh and a nod, completely glossing over you to speak to Mark instead. “Mr. Lee, please let me know if you need anything.”

You hear Mark respond in a pleasant tone, “Don’t worry, I know I’m in good hands,” but you don’t look at him yet. You force the gravity of your gaze onto Doyoung— an unwavering smile that creeps him out just enough to finally give up and leave the room, shutting the door behind him with a click, and finally allowing you to relax your shoulders and sink into the glossy, wooden table.

“Ugh.”

Stuck-up prick. The bane of your fucking existence, had it not been for the reappearance of Na Jaemin, the other capricious asshole in your life. Your head cocks up, hearing the scratching noise of a chair being pulled out. Mark sits right in front of you, maintaining a smile. “Bad morning?” And you finally speak your first words to him, in the form of a raging rant about his hot mess of an executive.

“Hey, be honest, do you want me fired? Do you want me to make my first ever loss? Your employee, Na Jaemin, told me he got into this mess because Yoon Naksung and his friends were looking at him for too long. Does that make sense to you? Is that how a sane man operates? How the hell am I supposed to defend that in court? How the hell am I supposed to defend his ass when he gives me fucking nothing to work with, and all while having the balls to call me useless?”

You’re out of breath by the end of it. Whew. That felt so freaking good.

“Sorry.” You eject yourself out of your tantrum upon hearing Mark’s not-so-apologetic apology. You leer at him from across the table, watching the stillness of his apparent pleasant expression. “Jaemin can be kind of rude sometimes.”

This guy is Nalkkeutta’s boss, you remind yourself. He’s the source of your fattened up bank account and worsened sense of justice and morality for the past five months—

“Rude is an understatement. He’s a fucking piece of shit.”

—and he’s also somewhat your friend.

“I’ve never seen you this angry.” Mark laughs, relaxing into his seat. “Was he that bad?”

Nalkeutta and JSS Law firm’s partnership has existed prior to your employment here. However, you’ve know Nalkkeutta’s boss even before you’ve entered law school, much less started working here. Kim Doyoung doesn’t know this, obviously. Their background check on you did not go as far as finding out your regular patrons throughout the four years you spent working at a run-down cafe-bar downtown throughout the entirety of your undergrad.

The cafe’s name was The Hangman. Pirate-themed, which was used as a frequent justification by your boss to never fix the broken chair legs, unkempt storage boxes, and occasional leaky ceilings. They add to the aesthetic, he says.

Anyhow, it was then that you first met Mark Lee, around three weeks into your first shift. He’d usually come in at around 10 p.m., order an old fashioned at the counter, flash you a pretty and boyish smile, then quietly read on the same spot until one in the morning before thanking you and leaving. Each time, you clock the hardbound cover titles. The Laws of Human Nature. Man’s Search for Meaning. Leviathan. Confessions of an Economic Hit Man.

Frankly, the crap he regularly reads worked better to make him look more daunting than his overall appearance. Mark Lee wore the visage of a cute, college literature major— covered in knit beanies and warm cardigans and all— but carried books and ordered drinks that made him seem like he was fifty-seven years old. The only time you found an opening was the time he finally brought a long something other than self-help or pretentious nonfiction. Kafka on the Shore. “I didn’t peg you as a Murakami guy.”

Mark Lee was taken aback when you first talked to him. He asked what made you say that.

You referenced the previous books he’d been carrying along. He blinked, laughed, then said that he actually preferred reading fiction. He’d only been reading all that obnoxious bullshit (your words) because he was fascinated with the mental gymnastics (his words) some people were capable of, and he was just compelled to read more. You’re still not sure how much of that defense was true, but that doesn’t really matter because your conversations gradually strayed away from books to your daily life instead— your classes and readings and the annoying customers you’d regularly had to deal with at work. It’s mostly you doing the talking, and it’s mostly because you otherwise had no one else to talk to to kill time during your night shifts at The Hangman.

“Was he that bad?” you parrot, sarcastically. “He said that you did a shit job picking a lawyer. You tell me, Mark Lee. Do you think your executive is a stellar guy?”

Mark only laughs. You grunt and slump in your seat, arms crossed as you observe Mark’s expression from across the table. It seems like he doesn’t mind you talking shit about his people this much. His lips are pressed in a perpetual, easygoing smile as he eyes the set of folders and documents on your side. You bite the inside of your cheek. From his appearance alone, you wouldn’t have guessed him to be the head of the most notorious gang in the underbelly of Yeongdeungpo. In fact, you would never have guessed it if you didn’t take an extra shift one day at The Hangman.

You ended up staying later than your usual 2 a.m. to cover for a co-worker. It was a weekend, so you didn’t mind much. Mark Lee hadn’t shown up that night. That is until you saw him come in at the store thirty minutes after two— deviating from his usual routine in more ways than one when he didn’t stop to order a drink, when he was with someone else who you were frankly too intimidated to look at for too long. When he went in and up the staircase at the back of the bar that was otherwise off limits because it led to your boss’s office in the upper area— and none of your supervisors came to stop him nor even attempt to look at him when he came back out with his big, scary companion walking three steps behind him while carrying a large and heavy looking black bag.

This happened a few more times. And Mark Lee would always smile at you when he’d pass by the bar counter. That’s when you knew something was up. But you knew better than to dig your nose into that kind of business.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the ability to see the future back then.

You look at the guy sitting in front of you right now. Mark Lee’s eyes flit up from your documents to look at you again, hands clasped together and resting gingerly on the conference table. “I’d sincerely like to apologize on his behalf,” he starts. You feel a thump in your chest. “But I hope his uncooperativeness isn’t making it impossible for you to win the case, attorney.”

Yup. That was a threat. Get my errand dog out of jail— even if he bites you in the process, is what he’s trying to say. Mark Lee may have been your bar regular and friend at some point, but right now he is your client— the most important client your firm has ever had the pleasure of receiving. He is not your friend right now. He is your high school bully’s boss. He is the head of the biggest organized crime group in the district. And your law firm is just one of the many cogs running his criminal machinery. One slip up, and he could just wrench you out without a second thought.

“Of course it’s not impossible. What do you think of me?”

You slide the first file you have down the table. Even if Na Jaemin is fucking useless, you’re not letting him ruin your flawless performance record. You’re not letting him give Mark Lee a reason to throw you away.

“What’s this?”

“The witness list. Yoon Naksung, Hong Hyunjae, and Ma Gildong,” you start. “Your dog fucked them up really badly. I already met their lawyer. He was being dodgy about it, but I doubt they’d let him off with a simple settlement.”

A glint flickers in Mark Lee’s eyes are your introduction.

“I already have another meeting scheduled with him this week. I’d like to talk to the three victims personally, but you know I’m not allowed to do that.”

He hums, glossing over your file before setting it back down on the table, fingers pressed firmly on the page as he looks up with a pleasant smile. “When should I take care of them?”

A shiver crawls down your spine. “I’ll let you know depending on how the second meeting goes,” you answer. “Even if the three of them testify, there won’t be enough evidence to prove his guilt beyond reasonable doubt based on what the prosecution has so far. I don’t know why the fuck their counsel is even bothering with this. Na Jaemin would effectively be acquitted from his criminal charges.”

Your client appears to be satisfied, but you’re not done yet.

“However, that won’t absolve him from civil liability.”

No way in hell.

“Yoon Naksung’s party can still sue for damages. And they have enough evidence to guarantee a win. Na Jaemin would be fined at most, and I’m sure it’d be very easy for you to cough up a couple thousand for him. But that’s still a loss for me. And I can’t have that stain on my record.”

Your brows wrinkle. You release a breath.

“Talk to Yoon Naksung. Or Hong Hyunjae. or Ma Gildong, or whatever. It doesn’t matter. It might be hard to get through Yoon since he’s the one fighting the most for this, but the other two would be pretty easy. I hear Ma Gildong’s business isn’t in good shape lately. The address is on the file.” You rise up, leaning forward to reach an arm over. You drop an index finger on the exact spot on the document you were referencing, landing a firm thump on the table. “If the court hears that all of them were all equally beating the shit out of each other in a drunken episode, not remembering who started what, instead of it being a one-sided beating from your exec just because they looked at him wrong—”

Your eyes flit up. You meet Mark’s gaze— unblinking and dilated. You clear your throat and look away.

“Then—then, their case won’t be merited. The court would dismiss it in pari delicto.”

Mark Lee seems pretty fucking happy to hear that. He’s all smiles and applause and it stresses you the fuck out. “I knew I could count on you, attorney.”

You sigh, slumping back down in your seat. “I already have Na Jaemin’s medical report. If you could get at least two of the witnesses to cooperate, that would be great.” Mark responds with a nod and a hum. You sigh again. “We have so many competent lawyers here. Why do you keep specifically asking for me? Next time, go ask Doyoung, or something. I’m tired.” You’d give up this illegal but lucrative money machine just to see Kim Doyoung experience the life-or-death stress you’ve been experiencing these past five months. You really would.

“Because you’re good,” he responds lightly— genuinely. A little too genuine for your liking. Mark shoots you a smile as he tucks his abandoned seat back under the conference table. Uh oh. Here he goes again. “How about officially joining Nalkkeutta as the head of our legal department?”

“Hah,” you snort. “My hands may have gotten dirty, but I can still wash them, Mark Lee.” The look on his face tells you that he isn’t taking you seriously. You leer your eyes. You’re serious. You don’t intend on being Nalkkeut’s clean-up dog forever. Five months ago, you just happened to have shit luck with the desperation to match. Both bad luck and desperation are bound to run out at some point. You just hope they manage to burn out before this guy could burn you alive. “I’ll get back to you once I’ve met with their lawyer again. For the meantime, just keep an eye on the witnesses. Let me know if you find anything of importance.”

His eyes linger on you for a while, still smiling. You know where his head is at. Your grimace— even harder when he asks again to confirm, “So, is that a no?”

“Hell no.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “Worth a shot.” At this point, he’s already halfway out of the conference. “See you again, attorney,” he bids farewell

“God, please, no,” you respond with a grunt. He laughs. The door clicks shut. You groan and become one with the almond table.

How many times has he tried to recruit you already? You’ve lost count. You’re already being regularly run through the wringer at JSS, how much more under Nalkkeut? Jesus, you don’t even want to entertain the thought. So, you busy your head with your current main stressor: the Na Jaemin case. You force your face off the table with a grunt and pull out your ipad to double check the trial schedule. Two weeks from now. Thursday. Fuck all. How did you end up here?

In retrospect, maybe it was actually all your fault. Three months ago— two months into working at JSS Law Firm— you decided that you were sick and tired of being trapped in Kim Doyoung’s legal counsel team as an associate, without being granted any personal recognition or accolades. You wanted to prove your worth. You wanted to get your credit. This time, you’re going to get your first fucking big girl case. Even if it meant discourteously bulldozing into Kim Doyoung’s office like a chihuahua looking for a fight.

Which you did, only to be shell-shocked and surprised to see the face of your old bar counter friend— who might also be a gang leader— in the middle of a very…confidential conversation with your supervisor.

“Attorney, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Too late. You’ve already overheard their conversation. They were discussing a case much like your current one— one of Mark Lee’s executives got caught in the middle of an illegal firearms deal, and Doyoung was having trouble looking for a lawyer stupid enough to take the case.

He shooed you out, but you stayed. You simply had no choice. You had to bite the bullet. This was a spring-loaded opportunity, and you didn’t intend on feeling from it.

“I’ll do it. I can handle it.”

You did get your big girl case, alright. You won. But you also had to book a full body spa session after your first time shaking hands with a criminal— just to feel somewhat cleaner. Obviously, you’ve become a lot more jaded now. Your boss has decided to dump all of Nalkkeuta’s major cases onto your desk since then, and Mark Lee has been trying to poach you ever since.

JSS. Jinsilseong. Integrity. What a load of bullshit. Where’s the integrity in working as criminal clean up dogs? There’s neither integrity nor justice here. Yet you’re able to afford a decent apartment because of that tarnished integrity. Dirty money. You make yourself sick, but drive home and back to work again for the next few days with the car that money bought you, because there’s no way in hell integrity can give you a comfortable life.

*‎

“How’s your Nalkkeuta case going?”

Kim Jungwoo comes over to greet you at the division breakroom while you’re in the middle of making yourself a cup of instant coffee after three fucking hours of being hunched over your cubicle the whole day. You jolt upon hearing his voice, flitting your head over to the direction of his voice, and you’re greeted by a face that clearly has gotten his eight hours in.

Unlike you. Jungwoo and you joined the firm at about the same time, yet somehow you look as though you’ve been trapped here for a good ten decades. He bats his eyes at you with a pretty boy smile while waiting for your response. You grunt.

“Dreadful. Horrible. Do you want to take it from me and liberate me from this misery?”

The laugh he gives you in response probably means a no. You click your tongue, grunting as you set aside to give him space on the counter. “Is it that bad?” he asks, rustling through the cabinets for a coffee stick somewhere. Kim Doyoung should restock and feed his poor laborers better.

“Yoon’s party won’t settle. They’re dead set on pursuing a cIass action.” Jungwoo manages to fish one stick out. “Not to mention my own fucking client refused my visit. I miss the days where all I had to do was summarize court transcripts and deliver correspondences for Doyoung. You never really know what you’re missing until you lose it.”

That was a lie, but you’re miserable. You were able to meet all three of the witnesses last week, in the presence of their lawyer, obviously and unfortunately. Yoon Naksung seems to be their leader, because the moment you uttered the words ‘settlement’ and ‘compromise,’ he nearly jumped off his seat to full-on throttle you. You’d ask why the hell he’s so hostile, but you read their written testimony on the day of the incident. He recounted all the heinous crap Na Jaemin spewed out while he beat the shit out of them. Things you’d rather not repeat out loud. The other two witnesses didn’t seem as passionate as Naksung, like they just wanted it to be over with and forget how much Na Jaemin humiliated their asses by wiping their faces on the ground and proceeding to call them a bunch of bitch babies.

Anyhow, you have your last attempt of negotiation this afternoon with their lawyer. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter at this point. You just want to let the court know that you’ve done your due diligence of attempting to reach an amicable settlement. You’ve got other cards up your sleeve— you’ve always had.

Which is why Kim Doyoung doesn’t buy your whining and complaining when overhears it in the breakroom.

“Get a grip.”

You flinch. Doyoung makes an appearance by shoveling in between you and Jungwoo to the coffee storage. You two step aside. He releases a silent swear upon realizing there’s no more instant coffee left. So, he decides to release his pissy attitude onto the innocent cupboard door by slamming it shut with a loud bam!

You and Jungwoo look at each other. Bad executive meeting. Very bad, you two mentally agree, sharing a look and a nod. JSS has been dealing with negative press lately. Director must have dumped the burden of fixing it onto him. Poor guy. He deserves it.

Doyoung manages to compose himself in a matter of seconds. He inhales, chest rising, then adjusts his crooked glasses with a huff from lips, finishing it up by giving you a lowered stare. “I’m not really worried about your performance,” he carefully pronounces. “Nalkkeut always asks for you for a reason. Mark Lee gets along well with you, too. So, quit being dramatic.”

He gets along with you because you both like Haruki Murakami, never dug your nose into his business, and always cleaned up his messes. You doubt you’d get the same grace if you fucked this one up, especially considering it concerns one of his executives. Sure, you’ve managed to weasel your way out of your previous cases without much trouble besides your inherent workload. The problem this time is your client.

Ugh. Na Jaemin. That bastard. How dare he decline your visitation request when his freedom is on the line here? You need to brief him for the trial, make sure he doesn’t do anything fucking stupid that would jeopardize your case and fuck not only himself, but you over as well. His freedom isn’t the only thing on the line. Your record is. Your freaking license is. As much as you really don’t want to see his face again, you have to. And the only comfort you can find at the prospect of meeting him again is the very clear evidence that he does not remember you— whereas your bones are already shaking at the mere thought of having to face him again.

It sucks. This sucks. But even if it does, you force yourself out of the office later in the afternoon to meet the witnesses’ lawyer at a cafe downtown.

His name is Jung Sungchan from the District Prosecutor’s Office. He’s baby-faced. He still has the light in his eyes. You’ve never even heard of him before this case. Meaning, he’s far too irrelevant to have the gall to strut into the cafe, say his piece, then leave without even buying a freaking coffee.

“See you in court, attorney.”

Of course this meeting ends the same way as your other meetings have had: no settlement, no compromise, no nothing. You release a scoff once he sees himself out with a cocky ass grin and a pep in his step. Hah. Fucker thinks he’s winning. This bitch is a toddler in the field compared to you. You’re gonna show him just how ruthless the law could be in the hands of someone that could bend it. He has no idea what’s coming for him.

You pull out your phone. You text Mark a go signal. [Give me an update tonight]. You stare at your string of texts you’d just sent, squint, contemplate for a second, then bring up your phone to your face. [Also, please send a message to your locked up exec that I really have to meet him soon. Tell him to stop rejecting my visitation requests. Please. For the love of god]. You hit send again. You exhale. That does it. You fix up your things and prepare to start leaving.

While you make your way to the cafe’s exit, you unfortunately overhear a conversation. Not that you’d even tried to overhear. There are two girls sitting next to the counter— one with straight black hair and blunt bangs, the other one with a very bad bleach job— and they’re both just talking really, really loudly.

“That’s what you get for fucking my man, you tramp,” sneers the fake blonde.

“I’m telling you, I really didn’t know he was taken!” straight hair screeches back.

Oh, fuck. You didn’t want to hear this drama. You try your best to maneuver past them quickly, quietly, but you end up hearing more information as you walk by. “I already broke it off and apologized! Please just take down the post already—”

“There’s no way you didn’t know, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking your disgusting texts down. All your friends and family deserve to know how much of a dirty, manipulative skank you are. So that they’d know to keep their boyfriends away from you!”

“Look, I’d get down on my knees to apologize, but you posted not only my private texts, but my fucking nudes were in them, you bitch! I’m not fucking proud of hooking up with a man I didn’t know was taken, but you’re going too far! I—I could sue you for this!”

“Hah! As if! If anyone, I’m the victim in this situation! Not you! You’re the affair partner who seduced my man!”

Goddammit. You jerk back after a sudden stop six feet away from the exit. You shit your eyes, mutter a silent breath as you continue to listen to the high-strung argument behind you. Normally, you’re not one to butt into these things. It’s none of your business, and quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck. But maybe it’s because you’ve yet again been subject to do something that desecrates the very principles of your occupation— the very notions of what is just and lawful and good— that you find yourself spinning your heels and stomping back into the opposite direction before you could even reconsider.

“Excuse me. I apologize for interrupting without consent, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

You just want to balance out the scales of your negative karma— even by just a little bit. You’re doing this for no one’s good but your own. The two girls snap their heads at you, one visibly more annoyed than the other. You gloss over it.

“The right to privacy of communication is heavily protected by our laws and Constitution,” you begin. Blondie furrows her brows at you, a loading symbol practically spinning above her head. Straight hair looks at you, confused. You keep a straight face, digging into your bag. “Prying into the privacy of another’s conversation is a civil offense and a cause of action for damages. That’s one thing. Posting someone else’s sensitive and explicit conversations is another story.”

You pull out a card. “Who the hell are you? Why the hell are you butting in?” she snaps, the sound of her chair scratching the ground as she stands up in a huff to level you. You set your business card down onto the table, the words ATTORNEY AT LAW, all caps, facing right side up.

Blondie’s eyes look down. Her face pales. Then she looks up to meet yours. You almost snort.

“It is a criminal offense punishable by three to seven years imprisonment, or a fine not exceeding twelve million won. Or both.” You could very well be jumping the wrong ship here, but you got a fair sense that Blunt Bangs was telling the truth from how desperate she looks, and that Fake Blonde is simply high on a vengeful power trip over the wrong person. “And, considering the fact that you publicized it online through a post, if I heard correctly, it would also be considered a cybercrime. Meaning, you could be charged for both.”

You didn’t think she could get any paler. You’re proven wrong.

“Wow. That’s an impressive feat considering you had no idea you were committing those crimes. Amazing.”

It doesn’t take much longer for her to sputter out something incoherent and stomp out in a panicked frenzy while mashing something onto her phone, most likely trying to delete the post. Sometimes witnessing firsthand the dredges of humanity gives you a little bit of comfort that you’re not the shittiest person in the world. You release a breath, readying yourself to leave once more, only to be stopped by a quiet excuse me from the same table.

You look down. You’re met by the way too happy smile of Blunt Bangs. She looks cheerful. Oh, god. You’re not used to this kind of positivity. You feel a shudder down your spine and force down a lump in your throat.

“Hi,” she starts. “Thanks for helping me. Jeez. What a psycho.”

The girl asks if she can buy you a drink as a thank you. You have not known kindness ever since you started working at JSS, and, by proxy, Nalkkeutta, so you were possessed with the inclination to say yes even though you’ve just had an americano with three shots. You settle with a warm jasmine tea to spare your stomach lining. The girl introduces herself as Natty, and starts giving you an unsolicited rundown of how Fake Blonde just suddenly started sending her swears and death threats the other day alongside the revelation that she was apparently her fling’s girlfriend.

She came here all the way from Mapo just to apologize again and beg her to take down the post. And then you witnessed how that went down. “I really had no idea,” she huffs in complaint for the nth time. You take a sip from your half-empty cup, glancing at the time. It’s 4 p.m. Sweet. Doyoung still thinks you’re having the meeting right now. One more hour before you have to clock out. You decide to pay a bit more attention to Natty as a thank you for allowing you to slack off on the job. “Oh, by the way. Can I ask something?”

You set down the cup on the saucer. “Sure.”

“Did you maybe go to Ganghak High School? Around eight to nine years ago?”

And then you nearly choke on your own fucking spit. What the hell? You stare at her, wide-eyed in both surprise and innate fear. “Why...why do you ask?” Natty takes that a yes and immediately lets out a squeal, followed by the squeal of your name, followed by a very slow process of recollection on your part of a girl with similar blunt bangs in your repressed high school memories— then it clicks.

“I recognized your name on your business card, but wasn’t sure if you were the same person! Whoa! You’re a lawyer now! That’s amazing!”

Blunt bangs. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. Pretty smile. You remember being classmates with a girl with that same description. You think they both have the same name. You don’t get the chance to second guess yourself because she starts talking about more people you vaguely remember in Ganghak— the class president who’s apparently on his third try at taking the Civil Service Exam, that one couple who apparently recently got married just two months ago in Jeju, that one kid who had once gotten his head dunked into the trash can on the first day of senior year because he came in without knowing the rules of the school.

He didn’t know who ran it. You did. Natty did. And that confirms the fact that you two had indeed been in the same hell once.

“Hey, do you have any idea what happened to Na Jaemin? I haven’t heard a single thing about him since we graduated and I moved towns.”

You look at her, a stiff smile on your face. She was your classmate. She was his classmate. If she can remember all those other people and what their roles were back in Ganghak, she’d very clearly remember yours as well. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard about him either.”

Natty gets the realization and immediately flinches out an apology. “O—oh, haha. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”

“No, it’s alright,” you hum, smile softening. “I haven’t heard of him, either.”

Christ. This man really haunts you everywhere you go. Natty is great at conversation, and manages to smooth over that one bump as quickly as she can and proceeds to ask about any new hot places at Yeongdeungpo, ask about your job, you asking about what she’s up to in turn under it hits five in the afternoon and you have to return to the firm to clock out.

The both of you exchange numbers. You look at Natty’s saved contact on your phone with conflicted feelings.

Now that you’ve managed to slot the memories into place, you do in fact remember her. She was your classmate throughout the two short years you spent at Ganghak. On your first day, she was the first person who’d come up to talk to you— the only time she’d ever talked to you and vice versa. It took nine years for the both of you to have a conversation again. And there’s really only one person to blame.

*‎

(“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—!”

It’s Monday. You race down the now emptied hallways, eyes quickly scanning each door label that you zoom past in the off chance that you got carried away running and missed your room. To think this is how your year starts. You were looking forward to using the opportunity before homeroom to introduce yourself and make some new friends, but no— you just had to doze off because you spent the entire yesterday unpacking.

It’s a new neighborhood, new school. You’ve heard that most of Ganghak High School’s students came from Ganghak Middle, meaning almost everyone already knows each other here. They’ve already formed their respective cliques and cohorts and groups. You’re currently an outsider, and you need to put in the effort to change that. You need to make a good impression to get some god damned friends and not spend the rest of your two years here as a loner.

Which is why you feel a splashing wave of relief drenching your bones the moment you make it to your assigned class for the rest of the year— slamming a palm against the door, just in time for the bell to ring.

“Whoo! Safe!”

At least fifteen sets of eyes immediately zero in on you. You stand there by the door. You smile and nod.

“Hi, good morning.”

No one responds. They all look at you— some stares lingering longer than the others— but they all eventually divert their eyes before five seconds, releasing what you could only assume were sighs of relief, and then proceed to drown the classroom in a silence that’s so, so unnatural for a large group of fifteen to sixteen year olds.

That should have been your first sign that this school was far from normal.

What a great start, you mentally huff, scanning the classroom the seat you’ll be stuck with for the next two years, and you eventually clock a pair of empty desks in the middle of the back row. You walk over to the available seat, waiting to see if anyone calls out saying it’s theirs, and after a few moments of no objections, you sit yourself down on the wooden chair.

The moment you hook your bag on the left side of your new desk, you swore that the heavy silence pervading the classroom just got heavier.

You look up. You see someone from the center row, peeking over her shoulder at who you assume is you with a somewhat nervous jitter— as if she’s having an argument with herself in her own head and for some reason, you’re involved. That should’ve been your second sign, but despite your confusion and frustration, you sit still. You sit still until one side eventually wins the girl’s mental argument and she rises up from her seat, tentatively stalks up to you as the class’s eyes follow her short walk with anticipation, including yours.

“Hi, uhm,” she practically squeaks out, hesitant, eyes quickly flickering over to the classroom door before looking back at you. She inhales and smiles. Her bangs are covering her eyebrows. “I’m Natty.”

You greet back and introduce yourself. This is a really fucking weird first interaction, but you take what you can get. “Hi.”

The expectation would be that she’d ask you if you’re new here, if you’re a transferee, if you’d like to join her and her friends for lunch, but no.

Natty completely diverts your expectations by saying, point blank, “This may sound weird, but…you should maybe pick another seat.”

You blink. What the hell? “Why?”

The answer comes in the form of the sound of the classroom door violently swinging open, followed by a series of hushed exclamations, and Natty’s suddenly paled face snapping away from you within the same moment, scampering to return back to her seat at the center, without even giving you the grace of a response.

You didn’t think the room could get any quieter, but it does, even with the sound of graveled footsteps marching their way over to you— the only thing you can see of the late student’s arrival because for some damn reason, everyone has their head down, and you felt compelled to follow and shut up and catch up to your confused and bated breaths as you listen to the chair next to you screech against the tiled floor, and feel the presence of someone plop themselves down with a rattle and grunt, and at that moment, you feel like you were given the subconscious permission to look up again.

So, you do.

And when you do, you immediately lock eyes with Natty. Sorry, she mouths with a hand up her cheek, then just as quickly turns back to the front, leaving you to think— what the hell just happened?

Hesitantly, you crane your head to the right, sneaking a glance at the person who just yanked the atmosphere down into hell with just his arrival, the person who you’d be stuck with for the rest of the year by virtue of your seating arrangement.

Much to your surprise, you’re not met by a face. You’re met with someone hunched over, a mop of messy hair with his face buried into crossed arms over the desk with an aura that immediately repels you from prodding even an inch closer. You nudge your seat away to the left, making sure not to cross the invisible mark marked by the gap between your two desks. The only sign of life you glean is the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders— invisible to anyone but you solely because of proximity— which leads you to the conclusion that he’s sleeping.

Sleeping. Something tells you that it’s better that he stays this way. That something is the sigh of relief from the person sitting right in front of you as your homeroom teacher finally walks in.

At this point, you still haven’t seen your seatmate’s face. The only time you know of his name is during attendance, when your teacher calls out a hesitant, “Na— Na Jaemin…?” after double-taking at her class list, answered by nothing but a heavy silence despite having all seats in the classroom filled. She quickly nods in acknowledgement and moves forward after that. Just who the hell is sitting right next to you?)

*‎

Beyond your control, memories from that time of your life continuously flash behind your eyes as you drive back to the firm. A buzz from your phone momentarily interrupts you. It’s from Mark Lee.

[Thanks, attorney. We’ll take care of Ma Gildong first tonight. You can see Jaemin on Monday, next week 🧑‍🎓].

Na Jaemin on a Monday. You grimace. What a load of crappy poetic irony. You reply with a thanks and a middle finger. Mark Lee beeps back with a bright grin in emoji form.

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline). © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

#na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #jaemin x you #na jaemin x you #na jaemin fanfic #jaemin fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #na jaemin smut #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut

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whizzing-fizzbee · 3 months ago

Note

Ok so shy reader and confident Sebastian, touching MC in class under the table , standing behind her and pushing/grinding on her, whispering in her ear, all in public- and reader getting fed up and pulling him into like a bathroom or a closet and absolutely RAILING him and he’s super surprised bc usually he’s the dom one but this time he ends up being the whiney mess who finishes several times before MC even does, and goes back to class shaking.

-3way anon

Oh hello, my fave 3way anon ❤️ Hope this is what you had in mind.

Unraveled

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit / MDNI (smut, language); all characters 18+ Words: ~3,200 Tags: second person POV, reader insert, no y/n, smut, teasing, dom Seb turned into sub Seb, semi-public sex

Summary: You're typically the quiet, reserved type. You find public displays of affection unbecoming, though your boyfriend, Sebastian Sallow, can't help himself. So when he spends a morning teasing you until you're wound so tight you can't see straight, you show him how it feels to unravel. In other words: You and Sebastian get filthy in the Hogwarts Hieroglyphic Hall.

Read below the cut.

By your seventh year at Hogwarts, you knew Sebastian Sallow like the back of your hand.

You knew what made him tick. You knew what kept him up at night. You knew he couldn’t sleep with less than two blankets. You knew how many pumpkin pasties he could eat before he began to whine that his stomach hurt.

Sebastian Sallow no longer surprised you. You’d seen him at his best, worst and all stages between. That’s why you certainly weren’t surprised when his attention turned to you during the middle of History of Magic class one day. You could always tell when he was bored. He’d subconsciously roll his wand back and forth across the desktop, his lips forming a slight pout as he willed the time to pass. Once he got bored of that, his gaze shifted to you.

You quirked an eyebrow at him and he smirked as he casually stretched his legs out, extending them beneath the desktop while his hand grazed the side of your thigh. You pretended not to notice.

After nearly a year of calling Sebastian Sallow your boyfriend, you’d mastered the art of nonchalance. Because as much as you loved and adored him, you liked to challenge him.

Sebastian was far more extroverted and outspoken than you. He never shied away from much of anything, whether it be a friendly duel or asserting himself as your proud boyfriend. But you carried yourself with quiet confidence, choosing to let your history as the hero of Hogwarts speak for you. The two of you were the spitting image of opposites attract.

So when Sebastian smirked at you, his knee shifting closer to yours beneath the desk, you rolled your eyes. Lazy sunlight streamed through the windows, casting emphasis on the speckles of dust that hovered throughout the classroom. Their quiet presence contrasted the roar inside your head.

While you appeared just as calm, just as serene as that floating dust, a war was raging inside of you. It threatened to pry you apart until you were a desperate, dissolute mess of untamed desire.

It was all Sebastian’s fault. He’d spent the entire morning riling you up. It was his own sick little serving of revenge after you’d denied his advances to study with Natsai Onai the previous night. You insisted you’d make it up to Sebastian, but he was far too cheeky to let you remain unscathed.

It started at breakfast that morning. Sebastian slid onto the bench next to you at the Slytherin table, his hand resting gently atop your knee. You didn’t notice as you tucked into your porridge – not until Sebastian’s hand snaked its way toward the top of your thigh. His thumb traced loose, lazy circles while he chatted with your housemates as if nothing was happening beneath their breakfast. He yapped about the past weekend’s quidditch scores while your fellow seventh-years were none the wiser to the way his fingers were forming unseen patterns across your thighs. They inched inward and inward until Sebastian could undoubtedly feel the heat radiating from your core.

“Pardon me, love,” he said as he reached across you for a pastry from the bread basket. As he did so, he leaned in close enough to graze the side of your neck with his warm breath. He flashed you an innocent smile. You averted your eyes in hopes you appeared unbothered.

But Sebastian was unrelenting, even in Herbology class. While Professor Garlick discussed the uses of puffapods, Sebastian stood far too close for your comfort. He shifted until he was practically sharing your repotting station, his fingers drumming quietly across the weathered wood tabletop. He hovered behind you, his eyes quietly scanning you with a silent craving while his breath tickled the nape of your neck. Your nipples hardened and your posture became painfully straight.

When it came time to replant your puffapod, his hand found the small of your back as he brushed past you, his hips grinding against your ass as he prattled on about needing a new trowel.

You pretended that your stupid puffapod was the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen.

Then came your study break in the library. You were diligently leafing through your Potions notes to ensure you were prepared for your next brew. Poppy Sweeting sat across from you while Sebastian lounged in the seat beside you, sucking on a sugar quill. He’d lost focus a good half-hour ago, his eyes now clinging to you as you read. Per usual, you pretended not to notice.

But Sebastian shifted to lean forward in his seat, his long legs bent at the knees as he extended his half-eaten sugar quill toward you.

“Want a taste?” he murmured innocently, though his eyes were anything but. You blinked at him with a deadpan stare. He smirked. “C’mon,” he continued, holding the sugar quill near your lips. “The sugar rush will give you some energy to focus.”

You rolled your eyes but obliged, parting your lips to allow Sebastian to stick the sugar quill in your mouth. You savored the saccharine taste while Sebastian’s eyes locked on yours. He held your gaze as he slowly glided the melting sugar quill from your tongue.

“How does it taste?” he asked innocently.

“Like it’ll rot my teeth.”

Sebastian breathed a short, silly laugh and leaned in closer until his lips were a mere inch from your ear for only you to hear.

“I can think of something worth sucking on that won’t rot your teeth,” he murmured quietly. The skin on your forearms prickled with goosebumps. He popped the quill back into his own mouth, his eyes still sparkling with sportiveness. “If you ask me, you look more alert already.”

You glared daggers at him and returned to your notes. Nevermind the fact you ended up scribbling the same line four times in a row before you even noticed.

History of Magic class was the final straw. Sebastian had been intentionally edging you all morning with culpable calculation. You knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. And while you were fighting like hell to appear unbothered, you were actually on the verge of unraveling.

As Sebastian’s hand inched its way to the apex of your thighs, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The heat between your thighs became a scalding ache that screamed for relief. His fingertips dragged discreet lines over the fabric of your skirt while you tried to swallow the whimper ascending in your throat. It threatened to expose your indecencies if you didn’t get out of that stifling classroom soon.

Your eyes shifted sideways until they caught Sebastian’s gaze. He offered you a smirk, to which you narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips. You stared hard into his pupils, praying he got the message.

Eyes now forward, you waited for Professor Binns to turn his back at the blackboard. When he did, his voice still droning on about Lachlan the Lanky, you rose quietly to your feet. Sebastian frowned as you slunk casually toward the back door of the classroom and silently slipped out.

You took a right and waited. About thirty seconds later, Sebastian emerged.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. You didn’t reply, but merely made another right, leading him through at the empty corridor until you were in the Hieroglyphic Hall outside Professor Binns’ office. A left past the sphinx statue and you finally came to a stop behind a column outside one of those Depulso puzzle rooms you’d discovered at random your fifth year.

“What are you do-” Sebastian repeated before you cut him off with a kiss. You threw yourself at him, crashing him backward against the column as he grabbed at your waist to steady you both.

You leaned, pressed fully against him with your hands splayed across his chest as you continued your assault on his lips. Finally, when you had to part for air, Sebastian gaped at you in awe.

“What’s gotten into you?” he teased. You glared at him.

“You know exactly what’s gotten into me,” you huffed. “You’ve been trying to provoke me all day.”

“Darling, whatever do you mean?” he asked cheekily. You fisted his tie in one hand and pulled. He snapped forward at the waist, his eyes widening at your aggression as he bent toward you.

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” you hissed. You released his tie with a light shove and turned your attention to his belt buckle.

“Wh- what are you doing?” Sebastian stammered. “We can’t do this here!”

“Why not?” you retorted. “Binns is in class. No one else ever comes through this corridor. You’ve spent the entire day teasing me. Now you get what you wanted and suddenly it’s too much for you?”

Sebastian was a lot of things – an arrogant tease, a conniving pest and of course, a cheeky bastard – but he certainly was not one to shy away from a challenge. So instead of showing any more apprehension, he flashed his signature smirk and pulled you into a kiss.

As your tongue clashed with his, your hands fidgeted with his belt until you were shoving every piece of clothing in your way to the floor.

“Easy now,” Sebastian laughed at your haste. You sneered at him in annoyance as you unbuttoned your own blouse. Sweat was already causing it to stick to your skin, so you shed it to the floor, your bra following close behind, leaving you bare above the waist.

You were a caged tigress starved for sustenance. Sebastian had dangled himself as prey in front of you and you were merely staking your claim.

His erection bobbed in your hand and you grasped at it like it was a final lifeline for your salvation. Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath at your rough touch, but you ignored it. You pumped your hand, your curled palm dragging over his shaft, once, twice, again and again until Sebastian tilted his head backward against the column. You stared at his expression as his eyes fell shut and his chest puffed and caved with labored breaths.

You dropped to your knees and guided him into your mouth. His eyes shot open in surprise and you smirked upward at him, your eyes shining as your lips tightened around his cock.

“Merlin,” Sebastian muttered. His hands tangled in your hair as you worked, your hollowed cheeks pulled taut around his shaft. When his tip hit the back of your throat, you held it there, gurgling around him as he moaned.

You loved it when he moaned. It was the telltale sign you had him wrapped around your finger, even if you were presently the one wrapped around him.

Your head tilted backward, sending Sebastian’s cock popping from your mouth until you attacked it again, this time with your tongue. You flattened it against the bottom of his shaft and dragged it slowly toward the tip where you traced circles. The sounds of sucking echoed around you, wet and crude.

Meanwhile, your own wetness pooled between your legs. It was a culmination of a day’s worth of arousal that Sebastian started over breakfast. You reached beneath the hem of your skirt, your fingers edging into your panties as you hummed in relief at your own touch. The vibration from your lips made Sebastian’s breath hitch.

You dipped two fingers inside yourself, outraged by how wet you’d allowed yourself to become. It was unfair of Sebastian to do such a thing to you without any relief.

Your panties snapped back into place when you removed your hand, using it to stroke Sebastian’s cock with your arousal. He hissed at the slick sensation until you replaced your hand with your mouth again. Your hands pressed into the backs of Sebastian's thighs as you sucked harder, your jaw aching as your head bobbed back and forth.

“Ease up,” Sebastian panted, one hand tugging gently at your hair. You ignored him again, hastening your mouth’s movements until you could hear Sebastian swear above you. You engulfed him with your throat until you could feel him fidgeting, his hands tightening in your hair as he started to unravel.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whimpered. You wanted to time this right. And just as you felt him begin to twitch, you released him from your mouth. You pumped a hand around his wet shaft and he grunted, his release showering over your breasts. When it was over, Sebastian slumped against the column.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, his eyes slowly cracking open to gaze at you in disbelief. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Nothing,” you answered simply as you rose to your feet. “We’ll call it even once you make it up to me.”

Sebastian didn’t understand. He was clearly under the impression your impish acts were done for the day. So when you stepped backward several paces until you were leaning with your back against a column opposite of him, he blinked in confusion.

You closed your eyes and slowly dragged a hand from your neck over your chest, where Sebastian’s release was still dribbling over your breasts. Your hand snaked downward over your stomach until it disappeared beneath the hiked up hem of your skirt.

You let out a low moan as your hand made its way back to your soaked entrance. You dragged two fingers over your clit before you paused to slide your panties off. They fell to the floor, exposing just how wet you were.

Sebastian swallowed – not that you paid him any attention. Your fingers sank inside yourself as you bucked your hips forward, pushing the plush front wall of your cunt into your fingertips. You did this repeatedly until the sight of you fucking your own fingers made Sebastian’s cock stir again.

“Want me to take care of you?” he asked huskily. You nodded silently, your eyes still squeezed shut as your fingers continued their work.

Sebastian moved toward you, his hands bunching your skirt higher around your waist so that he could see beneath it. He nudged your hand away and replaced it with his own, his fingers dragging over your drenched folds. He groaned as you coated his hand.

You spun to face the column, no words needed to indicate your intentions. You propped yourself against it with your hands, your legs parted slightly as you bent at the waist. Sebastian dragged the tip of his hard cock against your entrance and you moaned through your impatience until you felt him gliding against your walls.

“My god,” he breathed as he was fully sheathed. “I’ve never felt you so wet.” Though you weren’t facing him, you could feel him smirking behind you. “Guess I should rile you up more often.”

“Shut up,” you ordered, forcing your hips backward for emphasis. Sebastian obeyed, choosing to press an affectionate kiss to the back of your shoulder until he was rocking against you.

Hours’ worth of tension pleaded for release. You clenched your walls tight around his cock, the ache already threatening to erupt in erratic waves as he drove into you. The faster he slammed against you, the louder your moans chorused.

“Harder.” It wasn’t a plea, but a command. Sebastian, aroused by your abnormal dominance, eagerly obliged. But it still wasn’t enough for you and soon, you were rocking your hips backward with such force, Sebastian’s grip on your hips began to slacken.

He was grunting through gritted teeth at your force, but you paid no mind as you clung to the column for dear life. Perhaps it was selfish, but so was Sebastian’s decision to tantalize you all day. The sound of slapping flesh filled the corridor until Sebastian’s panting became broken gasps.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m going to-”

He let out a choked moan, his hips pinning you forward against the stone until he spilled into you. He slumped against you, spent of all energy as he caught his breath. Your thighs were wet and your legs ached from supporting your sinful act for so long, but you still hadn’t had your fill.

Your cunt quivered for more. More friction, more pressure, more Sebastian. Assuming you still had another twenty minutes until class let out, you decided you might as well make the most of the time.

Sebastian reached down to gather his trousers when you knocked him backward. He grunted as he toppled against the wall, his legs giving out as he fell to the floor. He blinked up at you with puppy dog eyes, stunned by your behavior.

“Wh- what-” he started, but you lunged yourself on top of him, straddling his lap before he could question you.

You kissed him hard, desperate to keep him excited. You grinded your drenched folds against his lap, moaning at the return of his flesh against yours. You needed that pressure inside your walls again.

“Your fingers,” you panted. “Use your fingers.”

“But… you… how are you still-”

“Just do it.”

If he hadn’t been so transfixed by your demanding demeanor, your face flushed and eyes dark with insatiable desire above him, he may have considered putting up more of a fight. Instead, he indulged you and slid a finger inside of you. By now, you were so sensitive, you gasped at the intrusion.

“More,” you breathed. Sebastian added a second finger and you began rocking yourself around them. Your hips bucked in desperation, your softest spot dragging against his fingertips until you were moaning in his ear.

Soon, you could feel Sebastian’s hardening cock pressing against your thigh. You took it in your hand and stroked until he was fully erect again. You beamed at him in excitement.

When he pulled his fingers from you, you sank downward, wriggling your hips until his cock filled your cunt completely. His hands gripped your waist and you lifted yourself upward, slamming down with impatience as you chased your release.

“Not so rough,” Sebastian whined with a clenched jaw. On any other day, you would have taken pity on him and obliged. Not today; not after what he’d done to you all morning.

“Just hold still,” you ordered. Your hands rested on top of his shoulders as you continued to bounce yourself up and down, your walls stretching around his cock. When his tip met the deepest part of your core, you whined in elation, certain you were about to earn your prize.

“I’m- I can’t-” Sebastian sniveled. His face was scrunched in sheer exhaustion. You rocked harder, your sensitive spot slamming greedily around his cock until you were on the cusp of your climax.

“F-fuck,” you breathed as the spasms started. You tipped your head backward and unleashed a wild cry as your walls rippled around Sebastian, whose fingers pressed into the skin of your hips with bruising force. You stopped your frenetic motions to sit in his lap, the final lingering flutters of your orgasm causing you to flood around him.

Sebastian was too sluggish to vocalize his own ending. He slumped over, his forehead against your shoulder as he emptied inside of you for the final time.

Finally, you were satisfied, though your head felt heavy and your frame may as well have disintegrated from your body. Meanwhile, Sebastian looked absolutely and utterly spent. His hair was a messy mop, sticking upward in all directions while sweat trickled from his forehead. His eyes were barely open as he fought to catch his breath.

When you finally crawled off of him to collect your clothes, Sebastian peered up at you in quiet befuddlement. You chose to act none the wiser.

You smiled at him as you finished buttoning your shirt, smoothing your skirt with a hand to ensure you appeared perfectly composed per usual.

“Ready to return to class?” you chirped innocently. Sebastian blinked at you in disbelief.

“You’re just going to act like none of that happened?” he asked.

“Like what happened?”

When the two of you returned to class and slipped discreetly into your seats, you smirked quietly to yourself as the other students began to whisper about Sebastian’s shaky, disheveled appearance.

#mdni #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #whizzing fizzbee fanfic #whizzing fizzbee requests

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its-avalon-08 · 2 months ago

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would you consider writing a Raikkonen or Vettel reader x grid, where she’s a lawyer w the same fierceness as her brother, and the drivers get into media trouble and she goes all harvey specter on the problem and leaves the drivers speechless/ scared/ impressed/ proud etc. thank you for considering this love your work!!!

objection bitch

✦ pairing - f1 grid x female!lawyer!vettel!reader

✦ genre - all fluff

The FIA had crossed the line. Again. In a shock to nobody.

A new rule had come into place penalizing drivers for swearing in post-race interviews and the race. Ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. The grid was in an uproar, but no one had the power to do anything about it. No one except Y/N Vettel.

If there was one person who could go toe-to-toe with the FIA and emerge victorious, it was her. A formidable lawyer, sharp as a blade, and just as relentless as her brother, Sebastian Vettel, in a fight. The drivers had learned long ago not to underestimate her. But this? This was war.

And Y/N was ready as ever.

“What are they gonna do? Fine us for every ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’ we let slip?” Lando scoffed, shaking his head as he, Charles, and Max sat in a conference room waiting for Y/N.

“They already have,” Carlos muttered, tossing a paper on the table. This was unacceptable. How were the drivers not allowed to CURSE? Were they toddlers?!

Y/N entered the room with a folder in hand, slamming it down with a force that made George sit up straighter. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” she began, voice crisp. “This rule is unconstitutional, violates multiple freedom of expression precedents, and is fundamentally stupid.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Hamilton said with an approving nod.

Y/N continued, eyes glinting. “The FIA is overstepping. Swearing is not slander, it is not defamatory, and it is not harming anyone except for some pearl-clutching bureaucrats who think drivers should be robots. I am filing a formal challenge.”

“A lawsuit?” Charles asked, eyebrows raised.

“A lawsuit,” Y/N confirmed, leaning forward. “We will argue that this rule is vague, arbitrary, and restricts free speech. We’ll also highlight that no other sport enforces such nonsense. If footballers can scream expletives mid-match and not get fined, why should you?”

Daniel Ricciardo grinned. “You are actually my hero.”

Max, arms crossed, smirked. “This is going to be fun.”

It was finally courtroom day.

The FIA’s lawyers sat across from Y/N, already shifting uncomfortably in their seats. She was poised, calm, and radiating pure authority. Dressed in an all black ensemble she looked like she ate losers for breakfast.

The lead FIA attorney cleared his throat. “Ms. Vettel, the FIA merely wishes to maintain a professional environment in post-race interviews for viewers.”

Y/N tilted her head, her smile sharp. “Define ‘professional,’ then. Because as far as I know, passion is part of the sport. Swearing out of frustration, joy, or sheer adrenaline doesn’t harm anyone. If anything, it makes drivers more relatable. Unless, of course, the FIA prefers that they all sound like pre-programmed AI.”

Murmurs from the audience. The drivers, seated together in the back, exchanged smirks.

“Furthermore,” Y/N continued, “this rule is selectively enforced. Are you prepared to produce data showing that every instance of swearing has caused a dip in viewership or complaints? Or will I have to subpoena past race interviews to prove bias?” (guys im sorry I googled most used lawyer terms so idk if its correct or not)

The FIA’s lawyers hesitated.

Y/N leaned in. “Let’s talk precedents. In 2019, the Court of Arbitration for Sport ruled that sports organizations cannot impose arbitrary speech restrictions unless they are justified by legitimate concerns. Tell me, gentlemen, what legitimate concern does the FIA have?”

The lead attorney fumbled with his papers.

Y/N smirked. “Nothing? Thought so.”

She turned to the judge. “We are requesting an injunction on this rule, as it is vague, inconsistently enforced, and lacks merit. We also seek damages for the fines already imposed.”

The judge glanced at the FIA’s team. “Do you have a counterargument?”

Silence.

Carlos leaned over to Charles. “She’s terrifying.”

“I know,” Charles whispered. “It’s bloody amazing.”

The ruling came swiftly. The swearing fines were scrapped.

The drivers were ecstatic. In celebration, Daniel made it his mission to curse as colorfully as possible in his next interview, just because he could.

Y/N received a round of applause when she walked back into the paddock that weekend. Max, standing off to the side, simply smiled. “Proud of you, schat.”

She nudged him playfully. “You should be. I’m basically the FIA’s worst nightmare now.”

Max grinned. “Oh, you definitely are.”

And she loved it.

Later that night, the drivers sat around in the paddock lounge, laughing as Lando held up his phone, Sebastian's name glowing on the screen.

“Do it, do it!” Charles urged, barely holding back his grin.

Lando hit the call button and put it on speaker. The dial tone rang before Sebastian picked up. “Lando?”

“Seb!” Lando beamed. “Mate, your sister is an absolute legend.”

Sebastian chuckled. “I assume she won?”

“Won? She obliterated them,” Daniel chimed in. “I’ve never seen FIA lawyers look like they wanted to evaporate before today.”

“She literally made them speechless,” George added. “It was… kind of scary.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically. “And to think, I used to help her with her homework.”

“You should be honored, mate,” Max teased. “Your sister might be more feared in F1 than you were.”

Sebastian groaned, but they could hear the pride in his voice. “Don’t tell her that, or she’ll never let me live it down.”

Lando grinned. “Too late.”

#formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #y/n #ava speaks #red bull racing #lando norris #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #requests #max verstappen imagines #george russel imagine #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fic #f1 grid imagine #f1 grid 2024 #f1 fandom

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abbygracerecs · 26 days ago

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Sebastian Stan and Co Fic Recommendations

❤️‍🔥 - Smut

🤰 - Pregnancy/Parenthood

⚠️ - Potential Trigger

♾ - Neurodivergent!reader

❤️ - Soulmate AU

Mob!Seb Alphabet - @sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Ardor - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

The C Train - @peterparkerneverland

Bucky Barnes

The Unseen - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

A Sweeter Place - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Yes Daddy - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Too young to love you - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Cuffing Season - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Middle of the Night - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Heartless - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Scary? My god, you're divine - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Left gasping for air - @bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Fuck me like you hate me - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Dreamland - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Mr. Brightside - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Happy Accident - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

His Omega - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Backseat of his car - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Brother's best friend - @kinanabinks ❤️‍🔥

Into you - kinanabinks ❤️‍🔥

Waiting on fate - kinanabinks ❤️‍🔥

Not for me - kinanabinks

Beefy Bucky - @buckyalpine ❤️‍🔥

Yours to claim - buckyalpine ❤️‍🔥

One Night - buckyalpine

Ink on his heart - @bitsandbobsandstuff

I'm not ready - bitsandbobsandstuff

The (not naked) pin-up calendar - bitsandbobsandstuff

Doctor Daddy - @mypoisonedvine ❤️‍🔥

Dishonorable Discharge - mypoisonedvine ❤️‍🔥⚠️

My Heart, My Angel - @paintedface

Ex’s and Oh’s - paintedface

Intertwined - paintedface

Hello gorgeous - @fatecantstopme ❤️‍🔥

Unrequited love? - fatecantstopme ❤️‍🔥

Accidental Pictures - @alisonsfics ❤️‍🔥

Fake girlfriend - alisonsfics

Do you want me? - @metalbuckaroo ❤️‍🔥

Long awaited - metalbuckaroo ❤️‍🔥

The divorce - @becca-e-barnes ❤️‍🔥

Playdate - becca-e-barnes

Toxic & jealous - @sweetsweetnuit ❤️‍🔥

On his knees - sweetsweetnuit ❤️‍🔥

Purgatory - @wkemeup

The Safest Place In New York - wkemeup

Operation Mistletoe - wkemeup

The third wheel - @writing-for-marvel

Liability - writing-for-marvel

A Solid Foundation - writing-for-marvel

Everyone's Watching Him - writing-for-marvel

A true hero - @onceuponastory

Part of a family - onceuponastory 🤰

Finders Keepers - @sacredsorceress

Cake - sacredsorceress

Three’s a Crowd - sacredsorceress

Who’s She? - sacredsorceress

The Long Run - sacredsorceress

Interference - @navybrat817

What Goes Around - navybrat817

Meet The Parents - navybrat817

Soulmate Quiz - @ofstarsandvibranium ❤️

Best Friend's Brother - ofstarsandvibranium

I'm Not Playing - ofstarsandvibranium

How Do I Do This? - ofstarsandvibranium

You Belong With Me - ofstarsandvibranium

I Got A Question To Ask - ofstarsandvibranium 🤰

It's A Set Up - ofstarsandvibranium 🤰

Block Party Barbeque - ofstarsandvibranium 🤰

#fic rec #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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formulakracing · 1 year ago

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

hello everyone! •ᴗ•

below is my masterlist related to all things f1! as i continue to write, i will continue to add to the list.

the list will be divided by team, then separated individually by driver. any content that is mature will have a moon symbol that looks like this ☾ next to it.

happy reading! <3

✧˖ max verstappen¹˖✧

"keep 'em comin" -> best friend!reader x max

nothing else matters -> female!reader x max

"my hero" -> social worker!reader x max

"you taste sweeter" -> social worker!reader x max

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・・。. ゜❃

✧˖ daniel ricciardo³˖✧

just how things come together, they fall apart -> fem!driver!reader x danny

night changes -> wife!reader x danny

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・・。. ゜❃

✧˖ sebastian vettel⁵˖✧

"you belong here" -> gf reader! x aston martin!seb

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・・。. ゜❃

✧˖ kimi räikkönen⁷˖✧

"well that's too bad" -> dcc!reader x kimi

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・・。. ゜❃

✧˖ sergio "checo" pérez¹¹˖✧

cat & mouse -> fem!driver reader x checo ☾

seeking comfort -> reader x checo

release -> female!reader x checo

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・・。. ゜❃

✧˖ fernando alonso¹⁴˖✧

celebratory drinks -> reporter!reader x aston martin!nando

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・・。. ゜❃

✧˖ lewis hamilton⁴⁴˖✧

too fast -> assistant!reader x lewis

celebrity -> gf!reader x lewis

✧˖ oscar piastri⁸¹˖✧

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・・。. ゜❃

✧˖ toto wolff ˖✧

alkaline -> fem!driver reader x toto ☾

i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii. | xiii. | xiv. | xv. | xvi. | xvii. | xviii. | xix. | xx.

fanboy behavior

lover girl -> smau

a day in the life -> smau

the little moments -> smau

"the best weekend of my life" -> smau

golden girl & her star boys -> gg x the grid

the (not so subtle) art of a crush

setting it straight

"my favorite driver!"

"you better"

headlock -> g.g. + g.r.

i. |

"girls like u" -> female driver!reader x toto x max verstappen

i. | ii. | iii.

"just one dance" -> horner's daughter!reader x toto

night swim -> nanny!reader x toto ☾

el tango de roxanne -> figure skater!reader x toto

"tending to my love" -> gf!reader x toto

america's princess -> popstar!reader x toto

time off -> reader x sick!toto

sunbathing -> female!reader x dbf!toto ☾

jealousy, jealousy -> female!reader x dbf!toto

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・・。. ゜❃

the grid

words of endearment

#f1 #formula one fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 masterlist #formula one masterlist #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #toto wolff #sergio perez #pierre gasly #max verstappen #carlos sainz #charles leclerc

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0bticeo · 1 month ago

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You wanted a make-up Fic title and "Finders Keepers" popped up in my head somehow👀

you're mark grayson's childhood friend and neighbour, and have been in love with him for a while. have been there ever since his fifth birthday where you first met him by accidentally kicking a ball in his birthday cake. (a whole mess. you didn't mean to kick it that hard.)

you get along great. william looks at the both of you and sighs, wondering why you share the same exact brain cell and why it's solely focused on seance dog and superheroes. nolan and debbie may or may not have asked mark to keep his bedroom door open when you were hanging out after you both turned fifteen.

you wish their worry was justified. mark doesn't even look at you that way. and as time passes, as his attention focuses on amber, then on eve, you come to the heartbreaking realisation that he never will. he's invincible. she's atom eve. you're nothing special. just his childhood friend, to whom he talks less and less because of "hero stuff".

when you see reports of multiple invincibles burning earth's great metropolises to the ground, you're not particularly phased. just a regular old thursday, knowing that mar- invincible & atom eve will save the day while you're busy trying not to die, half buried under rubble they don't even see, because casualties and property damage was never their forte.

you're going to die without having ever given anybody a chance because you're too hung up over markus fucking sebastian grayson to try, and the thought sickens you. you slam your fist on the ground in rage and watch as the precarious concrete structure above creaks and topples down towards you.

mark’s face greets you.

his mask is black and yellow and his smile is all kinds of wrong, and you don’t need to see behind his goggles to know there's a sheer look of glee in his eyes.

“well, well. look who we have here.”

when your mark comes to you at last, ready to save you, all clenched fists and righteous fury, his variant holds you firmly against him, one strong arm wrapped around your waist, fingers digging in your throat.

“let her go.”

“finders keepers.” he hums, inhaling the scent of you. “shame you didn’t bother bagging her sooner.”

there’s something like horrified realisation marring the features of your world’s mark. you’re not fighting. you’re leaning against his variant’s chest, soaking up his warmth, almost relishing in the low rumble he lets out as he laughs.

you wonder if he’ll weep.

taking requests! send me a title and i'll write a lil drabble!

#this is lowkey a drabble #thank you for popping in my askbox hehe it's always a pleasure to see you on my dash ^^#mark grayson #invincible #obticeo writes #mark grayson x reader #invincible variants x reader #sinister mark x reader #mark grayson x y/n #mark grayson x you #invincible x y/n #invincible x you #sinister mark x you #sinister mark x y/n

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soleminisanction · 11 months ago

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I think my least favorite internet criticism of Meghan Fitzmartin is the idea that she "just wanted to push her ship," meaning Tim/Bernard. Because honestly? I think that's straight-up bullshit.

Having read the Urban Legends stories, the Pride Special reprint, Tim Drake: Robin and Young Justice Dark Crisis, plus what interviews and social media she's been doing as these comics came out, there is zero evidence to me to back that statement up. If that were true, the Urban Legends stories probably would've been more about bringing Bernard back and re-establishing him as a character. Y'know, building up their relationship.

But it wasn't about their relationship. It was about Tim and his feelings, his internal conflict, what he needed. That's what Fitzmartin even said in the interviews after, that she, "felt like this was something Tim needed." And that's true going into TD:R too -- yeah, Bernard is there and their relationship is a prominent subplot, but he gets about as much page time as Darcy and Detective Williams, and the focus is always on Tim's ongoing story and his developing relationships with all the people around him.

That's why I like that they went with Bernard as his "closet key." Not because I'm super devoted to the pairing or anything -- I truly could take or leave the arrangement -- but because they're tolerably cute together and, more importantly, dating a civilian supporting character comes with far less baggage than establishing a relationship with a fellow hero. By their very nature, superhero stories are more heavily weighted towards the hero characters than their civilian support, that's just a fact, and, with rare exception, civilian love interests tend to act more as sounding boards to develop and reflect the leads. Making Tim's first boyfriend an old civilian friend means the story could be about Tim's personal character growth, internal conflict, and explorations of his sexuality.

I genuinely think that's the only reason Fitzmartin went with Bernard. She only had around 30 pages to tell that Urban Legends story (and I guarantee you, she was assigned that page count before writing), so bringing back a previous civilian friend meant she didn't have to try to establish a whole new relationship on top of introducing a villain faction and telling a superhero-based investigation story. And for whatever reason, Bernard was the most popular of Tim's civilian buddies to rare-pair him with before this all happened. (Just check AO3: Prior to the release of the Urban Legends stories, Tim/Bernard had ~42 fics, Sebastian Ives got 4, and Danny Temple had 1.)

When Meghan Fitzmartin says that she went back, read Tim's old stories, and felt he needed to come out of the closet, I believe her. And I'm happy she felt that way and was allowed to act on those feelings because it's something I felt too, reading those stories. Those feelings that had nothing to do with "ships" or even with characters like Kon or Dick and everything to do with Tim and who he is as a person.

To sweep all that away as "she just wants to push her preferred ship" just feels so... dismissive and rude.

#dc comics #tim drake #bernard dowd #meghan fitzmartin #tim drake robin #tim/bernard #meta #that page limit ftr is also probably why the tim/steph breakup happened off panel #there's only so much space and it wasn't important to see it just that it happened #95 percent of the time if someone says 'this creator is pushing their ship' I assume they're wrong #because they almost always are

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pretzel-box · 8 months ago

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OMG THE LITTLE DRABBLE YOU WRITE FOR SEBASTIAN WHERE READER ACCIDENTALLY GAVE HIM A LOVE NOTE INSTEAD OF THE FILES HE WANTED WAS SO GOOD!! can you please try to recreate it as a fanfic ? Love your writing btw :3 (also can it please be fem!reader?)

Tags: Established Relationship [Marriage], Fluff, Comfort, Motivational Notes

Words: 1k

Sebastian spends most of his precious time reading files, listening to annoying human visitors and scavenging. The last name was something he enjoyed since it was so simple and relaxing.

On this particular scavenging run, things were different. He hadn’t come across anything remarkable for a while, letting him feel a wave of frustration run over him, but then, tucked away in an old storage room, he found a file cabinet half-buried under debris. It was unlocked, and inside were files, all marked as unimportant or abandoned.

He hesitated for a second, figuring it was nothing more than outdated reports or useless data. But something compelled him to grab a few of the folders and stash them in his pack. Who knows? Maybe he could find some clues about the facility’s history, or something he could use against Urbanshade.

After the long trek back to his shop, Sebastian settled in, tossing his gear aside and grabbing a drink before collapsing at his cluttered desk. He didn’t bother with the files at first, instead leaning back, glancing at the framed photo on his desk.

It was of you, standing by his side, beaming that radiant smile of yours. He traced a finger gently over the frame with a small, rare smile tugging at his lips. The two of you had been through hell together, but despite everything, here you were—still by his side, still the one constant in his life.

Sighing, he leaned forward, flipping open the first folder from the stack he’d brought back. But instead of the usual boring documents he expected, he found something else—a small, folded note.

"Seb, I know you're probably frustrated right now, but I just want you to know how much I love you. You’re stronger than you think, and you’ll get through whatever this is. Remember that, okay?"

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard. He stared at the note for a moment, his fingers brushing over the paper as a warmth spread through his chest. He recognized the handwriting instantly—it was yours. But what was it doing here?

He reached for the next file, flipping it open with more curiosity this time. Inside, he found another note:

"When you feel like the world is crashing down on you, remember that you’re the one who holds us together. You’ve always been my hero, and you always will be."

A chuckle escaped his lips as he read the words, shaking his head in disbelief. What were these doing here? He sifted through more of the files, each one containing more of the same—small, handwritten notes from you, each one filled with love, encouragement, and sweet little reminders of how much you believed in him.

"I know you’re tired, but don’t forget to take care of yourself. Drink some water, take a break. I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready to come home."

“You mean everything to me, Sebastian. Don’t ever forget that. Even on the days you feel lost, I’m right here beside you."

His heart swelled with every note he found, the exhaustion from the day’s work slowly melting away. He could practically hear your voice in his head, soft and comforting, as if you were sitting right next to him.

He laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Of course you’d do something like this. You always knew how to surprise him, even in the smallest ways. He could imagine you sneaking these notes into various places around the Blacksite, knowing full well that one day he’d find them. You were always thinking ahead, always finding ways to make him smile, even when he didn’t think he had the energy for it.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little less burdened.

Grinning, he stood up and moved to the back of his shop, grabbing two mugs and setting them on some boxes that served as tables. He heard the soft patter of your feet as you came down the ladder that led to the small loft in his shop where you usually rested, and soon enough, there you were, walking into the room, rubbing your eyes from a nap you’d taken.

“Hey,” you said, smiling as you stretched your arms over your head, an action that he always loved to see you did it. “What’s with the grin?”

Sebastian just shook his head, watching you with a fondness he rarely showed anyone else. “I found your little scavenger hunt,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You blinked, confused for a moment before realization dawned on your face. “Oh, you found them?” you asked, a playful glint in your eye. “Took you long enough.”

He walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You know,” he said softly, his voice full of affection, “you’re a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. His body was cold as always, making you feel cooled down but his actions had a comforting warmth to it as if a weighted blanket was laid upon you. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I really do.”

The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world feeling a little less heavy in that moment. Eventually, you pulled away, glancing over at the files scattered on the table.

“So,” you teased, “how many did you find?”

“Enough to remind me I married a complete sap,” he replied with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, leaning up to kiss him, your lips meeting him and you could feel him lean closer. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you from brooding all the time.”

Sebastian chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “Guess I’m stuck with you then, huh?”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re stuck with me.”

And for once, Sebastian didn’t mind being stuck at all.

#sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure #pressure x reader

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lara-kaminari · 3 months ago

Text

𝑺𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒓 - 𝑶𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔 𝑮𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕 × 𝑭!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

warnings: smut, big dick!ominis, size kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk (a lot).

w/c: 2.5K

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! I'm practicing a different way of doing smut and trying that whole dirty talk thing, this shit is hard. Believe me, I don't understand what I write because in my language it sounds different and there are things that.... Well... This really was an experience.

No one would ever guess that a fun adventure could end in a nightmare.

The decorated Hogwarts hero always stood up to danger. Years had passed since her student days and her bravery was still as strong as when she survived a dragon attack. After such terrible experiences, should infiltrating an illegal network of dark wizards have been a problem? Of course not, which is why she took the job.

However, nothing went according to plan.

That's okay. All is not lost. She may be alone now, half-naked, tied up in a basement with other women waiting to be sold to the highest bidder, but it's only a matter of time until she comes up with a good plan. If it weren't for the drugs in her food she would have caused a tremendous explosion by now.

Maybe someone from the Ministry knows about the sale and they will come to her rescue. Yes, that would be logical. Just the right person in the crowd and it's all over. Even if no one shows up she'll be able to snap his neck when he gets distracted; yes, she'll get the attention of the man in that hideous see-through nightgown they've put on her and put her hands around his neck until he stops breathing.

—You're next.

One of the dark wizards pulls her by the arm and she restrains the urge to bite him.

They take her to some kind of small stage, there is a strong light hitting her face and making it difficult to see beyond her feet. The man continues to hold her arm and she has to turn her face away so that the light stops burning her retinas.

They call her name, set a base price and the auction begins.

No one has that much money, but there are many striving to raise the price. It's hard to see who's talking or where the exit is. The best thing to do would be to wait for some poor sucker to buy it and then get rid of him. Or maybe no one will come up with suitable numbers and return it to the basement.

A male voice offers a number so loud that the room falls silent. And just like that, she is sold.

Who bought her? That's a good question. As she is dragged into a room in solitary for her to meet her buyer she schemes out a possible answer. That voice in the crowd sounded familiar. Too familiar. The low, serious, almost cold tone reminded her of….

But it couldn't be.

Ominis Gaunt is just an old memory from school. Were they close? Yes, briefly in fifth grade. Then Sebastian came along and… The rest is history. Ominis was always staunch in his beliefs and ideals, no one could change that. She couldn't. However, what if he was her savior? Only a good person like Ominis Gaunt could rescue her.

It comes as a pleasant surprise that he's the one who walks through the door.

—So it's true. —He said. —This is where you've ended up… Not quite worthy of your glory.

—Ominis…I knew I recognized your voice, I didn't think the Ministry would send you to rescue me; how long have you been working with them? Are you an auror?

—Work with the Ministry? They work for me.

—I don't understand.

But maybe she did understand a little. She hadn't seen Ominis since school ended. She'd heard stories about him taking over some family business, but nothing too explicit. However, seeing him there, seeing him in his dark splendor was a different matter.

For he did, indeed, look different. Taller, more serious, though with that hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. He was well dressed and his clothes looked expensive. Something in his figure screamed that he did not mean well.

—What are you doing here, Ominis?

—I'm shopping, and I seem to have acquired an interesting toy.

—I don't-…

—I've bought you, now you belong to me.

—What now? Will you hurt me?

—Maybe, I could hurt you. I could hurt you very much, but I won't. I can't, you're my new little doll and I would never hurt you. —As Ominis spoke, he placed his hands on her waist. She closed her eyes. His chest bumped against hers. —Although I would hurt people for you… And I would have to punish you if you made things difficult.

She had nowhere to go. Ominis began to kiss the curve where her neck and shoulder met.

—I know you'll be good; after all, you're such a good little angel that you'd never do anything to be punished, would you? —Ominis began to nibble gently at her neck, ignoring the way she tried to push him away. —Because I'd have to be too hard on you and I know you don't want that.

No. He was insane, there had to be another way out.

—Ominis, just… Just let me go now and… And we can… We can forget this, no need for us to-…..

Ominis pushes her against the nearby wall and she screams, she doesn't know if from shock or from the blow. Her attention is snatched away by the sensation of two cold hands squeezing her tits above her nightgown.

—You have a very nice pair of tits, big and soft. —He said, as if there was no problem with her actions or words.

He circled her nipple with a fingertip before stroking and pinching it lightly. She squealed. Ominis took one of the nipples into his mouth. He licked it once before closing his lips to suck. She squirmed against the wall at the invasive sensations. He nibbled and caressed her breast to give the other some attention as well.

—Now I want you to listen to me. —hissed Ominis. His voice was stern, like a priest before a sinner. —My comfort is the only thing that matters; I own you, I possess you… Repeat it.

His hand slowly moves down to the mound of her new toy. She doesn't react fast enough to push him away. Ominis is touching her. He is touching her between her legs.

—Your comfort is the only thing that matters. You… You own me. —She repeated.

His finger had begun to move back and forth like the pendulum of a clock, the tip barely grazing her slit.

—Very good, and what else?

Every caress against her outer lips was a well-founded provocation. It was different for him since touch was his most reliable avenue of perception. Ominis wanted to feel everything and play with it.

The velvety soft finger pressed lightly, breaking her folds and still swinging like a pendulum, only now the tip of his finger pressed against her clitoris with each pass, giving her a jolt of lightning each time he did it.

—You own me.

—Excellent, that's just what I want to hear.

Her mouth opened and her head jerked back as a finger pressed, plunging into her hot folds completely, coating herself with the wetness she found there. Within seconds another joined in, invading her property, she moaned and Ominis' laughter in response was so dark it nearly brought her to orgasm.

—Do you think I never wanted to fuck this pussy? You were always so close and so far away, strutting around with total confidence; for years I wanted to show you where your true place is: kneeling at my feet. —His fingers had curled, trapping her clit between his knuckles, stimulating her hidden sides as they moved back and forth, pulling back her hood and making her see stars. —Oh but it would be a shame to do it this way, don't you think? Wouldn't it be sweeter if you asked me? Tell me you want this, tell me and I'll give it to you.

She was in no condition to answer. Her hips moved on their own following the movement of his fingers. Her legs spread a little wider, perhaps there would be more dignity in simply remaining silent and waiting for him to take what he wanted from her.

That last prospect was less embarrassing. Her current situation was terrible: She felt her clitoris flushing red hot and only Ominis' hands could soothe her.

—You'll have to talk sooner or later, my dear; what does this needy little pussy want from me?

Ominis was brusque and overbearing, perhaps more of a beast than a man. Who could blame her for giving in?

—Please. —she moaned, all too aware of the way he rubbed her clit from above, from the sides, anywhere just where she needed it.

The outline of his cock stood out in relief against his sleek tailored pants, a fat, full cock desperate to get out. She wanted to be filled by his cock, for him to stretch her beyond her limits and fuck her in just the way his words threatened.

—Please, make me cum. —She begged. The pressure of his fingers had settled into a merely provocative rhythm cupping her entire mound in his palm and she gasped as the fingers inside her curled.

—Is that what you need?

Merlin, she was going to cum soon enough at this rate, having an orgasm under these circumstances from being unable to control herself. Who knows what Ominis would do next now that she has fallen into his trap. All she knows is that he really likes her little screams and whimpers.

—That's it; I'll take over this pretty pussy anytime you want me to, sweetheart. Whenever you want to be licked I'll spread your legs to eat you out until you cum. Every time you want me to fill you with my cock I'll be here to fuck you so good you won't be able to remember your own name. —Ominis gasped, increasing the intensity of her fingers. —I'm going to spoil this pussy any way you want, all you have to do is let yourself go.

She wasn't sure what was making her come: the way he was rubbing her or the things he was saying. He penetrated her with a solid, firm flick of his wrist, stroking her inner walls and never letting up on his pressure on her clitoris, and she stirred as if she were in heat.

When she clenched around him, her thighs quivering and her eyes moist, he let out a low murmur of approval, continuing his motion until her contractions slowed. She watched him through narrowed eyes withdraw his hand and suck his fingers clean, as calm and serene as ever.

—Ominis…

There was no going back. She wanted more.

—Is this what you want? —The bulge in Ominis' pants was prominent, she felt her hands tingling with the need to see its weight and thickness.

—Yes. —She whispered, her mouth was dry.

—Yes what? Be clearer.

—Yes, this is what I want, I want your cock. —Her eyes closed momentarily out of inadequate modesty. She was gnawed by the desire to get down on her knees and take it right then and there.

—My cock? Is that what you want? Would you enjoy eating my cock?

She swallowed hard and her legs spread a little wider, searching in vain for a friction that wasn't there. Pleasure wasn't even beginning to categorize how the idea of touching him, stroking him and bringing him to orgasm felt.

—Use your words. —He wasn't playing, the note of danger in his voice was the reminder.

—Yes…

—Yes what? Do you need me to teach you how to speak properly?

He's a bastard.

She looked up and a moment of bravery came over her.

—Yes… I'd really enjoy stroking your cock. I'd love to stroke your cock.

—Tell me more.

He made no move to stop her as she reached out to stroke him over his clothes and her hands helped unbuckle his belt.

—I'd like to milk you dry.

—Lean on your hands and knees on the bed, you have earned a reward.

This couldn't be real, being on her hands and knees on the bed, facing the wall. Ominis' hand came up to meet her center, rubbing wide circles against her lips, finding her soaking wet.

—Perfect, you're perfect.

She cried out as the first licks of his tongue sent shivers down her spine. His tongue was hot and long, long like a snake, thrusting and fucking her from behind, a delicious sensation that could not be imitated by other men. When he licked her clit, her mind went black.

—I want you to cum on my tongue. —Ominis ordered her. —That's the way it's going to be from now on, understand? You're always going to cum first and it's going to be against my mouth.

She moaned as he sucked on her clit, vibrations from her orgasm caused her legs to tremble, shaking her thighs until she spasmed. She cum against his tongue in a wave of convulsions, almost sobbing as his roughness moved to her opening, pushing inside and drinking her nectar. He continued to lick her as the throbbing inside her subsided.

When he finally let her go, she considered that it might not be worth returning to her regular life. Never had her pussy been eaten so pleasurably, never had she been touched like this before. Reaching orgasm from oral sex had long ago been ruled out, but it happened. And maybe, once he'd prepared her and stretched her; once he'd taken his cock completely, she'd never be able to run away from him.

—Please. —she moaned. —Please, please, please… I need your cock so badly.

Her plea broke into a choked cry as the thick head of his cock pressed against her entrance, moving agonizingly slow. She fought against the burning, his fat cock stretching her harder than she had ever been stretched, pressing firmly against her.

—Oh- Ominis… It won't go in, it's too much… Too big….

Little pushes, just enough movement to make her dig her nails into the mattress and stand with her mouth open.

—You're taking it so well, your pussy squeezes me so tight I can only move forward.

—Please, Ominis, I….

—I love to hear you beg, but you don't need to beg for my cock: it's already yours. I'm going to take care of fucking your pussy every day.

—Yes, give it to me. —She gasped, losing herself completely as he began to pump. Slow and deep, deeper than she'd ever been fucked. —Thank you, thank you, this is what I want… Merlin, I love your cock.

The slow penetration wouldn't stop, how much more was left to take, a few more inches? She couldn't take it, she feared if she looked down she would see a bulge protruding from her lower belly. She was full, so full, and shuddered as Ominis finally bottomed out.

As his heavy balls began to slam into her, she came undone.

—I want to feel you cum around my cock. —Ominis said. —I want you to squeeze me until your pussy has the permanent shape of me, because it's the only cock that will make you scream like this.

Ominis' onslaught began to take on a sense of urgency as she babbled like a fool as his cock kissed the most sensitive spots inside her.

—Come inside me. —She sobbed. The dragging of the head of his penis against her G-spot was making her stomach contract. —Please, please, please empty those big balls inside me, I want you to give me every last drop.

As Ominis fingers began stroking circles around her clit, she cummed. Tears ran down her cheeks at how good it was. Thick white spurts enter her abused pussy, filling her completely, some seeping past her clogged hole.

That escape plan can wait.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis x reader

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